Promises Made, Promises Broken: Fear and Idols

Before today’s reading, we have both some catching up to do from last week’s story. Plus, a little remembering.

When we left off last week, the Pharaoh had finally agreed after the tenth plague and the Hebrew Passover to let God’s people go. In the intervening chapters, we read the story of Israel’s journey to freedom. Their passage through the Red Sea and God saving them from the Egyptian army.

Israel is led by Moses into the wilderness and eventually to the foot of Mount Sinai. Mount Sinai is also known as Mount Horeb, which, coincidence or not, is where Moses was first called by God to lead Israel out of slavery. It is on Mount Sinai where God comes down to be with God’s new people, Israel.

Now before we move on, we need to remember back to Genesis and to the Garden of Eden. It was in Eden that humanity was in the presence of God -  in a close and good relationship with God. Access to God’s presence, though, was eventually lost because of the rebellion of humanity. It was then that God came to Abraham and made him a promise - that through him God would bring blessing to all of the nations. But, there was a second promise to Abraham. That through him the relationship with God would be restored along with access to God’s presence. 

Which brings us back to Sinai. God come down to the top of Mount Sinai. But God’s presence is anything but comforting. So, the people send Moses up the mountain to meet with God. 

Up until now, God hasn’t asked anything of Israel. But now, God invites them back into relationship - into covenant. And with this, God is going to ask them now to do something, giving them a whole set of laws, beginning with the ten commandments. The idea is that if Israel obeys the terms of the covenant, they will be so shaped and formed by God’s laws, teaching and justice that they will become a kingdom of priests to show all the nations what God is truly like. The people accept this invitation eagerly. 

So, Moses goes up a second time to meet God and to receive all of these laws, along with lengthy and detailed instructions on the building of a tent. It is this tent that will be the tabernacle, where access to God will be restored and Israel and God can live together in peace.

But, then, something goes seriously wrong, which is where our story today picks up.

The people saw that Moses was taking a long time to come down from the mountain. They gathered around Aaron and said to him, “Come on! Make us gods who can lead us. As for this man Moses who brought us up out of the land of Egypt, we don’t have a clue what has happened to him.”

Aaron said to them, “All right, take out the gold rings from the ears of your wives, your sons, and your daughters, and bring them to me.” So all the people took out the gold rings from their ears and brought them to Aaron. He collected them and tied them up in a cloth. Then he made a metal image of a bull calf, and the people declared, “These are your gods, Israel, who brought you up out of the land of Egypt!”

When Aaron saw this, he built an altar in front of the calf. Then Aaron announced, “Tomorrow will be a festival to the Lord!” They got up early the next day and offered up entirely burned offerings and brought well-being sacrifices. The people sat down to eat and drink and then got up to celebrate.

The Lord spoke to Moses: “Hurry up and go down! Your people, whom you brought up out of the land of Egypt, are ruining everything! They’ve already abandoned the path that I commanded. They have made a metal bull calf for themselves. They’ve bowed down to it and offered sacrifices to it and declared, ‘These are your gods, Israel, who brought you up out of the land of Egypt!’” The Lord said to Moses, “I’ve been watching these people, and I’ve seen how stubborn they are. Now leave me alone! Let my fury burn and devour them. Then I’ll make a great nation out of you.”

But Moses pleaded with the Lord his God, “Lord, why does your fury burn against your own people, whom you brought out of the land of Egypt with great power and amazing force? Why should the Egyptians say, ‘He had an evil plan to take the people out and kill them in the mountains and so wipe them off the earth’? Calm down your fierce anger. Change your mind about doing terrible things to your own people. Remember Abraham, Isaac, and Israel, your servants, whom you yourself promised, ‘I’ll make your descendants as many as the stars in the sky. And I’ve promised to give your descendants this whole land to possess for all time.’” Then the Lord changed his mind about the terrible things he said he would do to his people.  Exodus 32:1-14 (CEB)

It’s interesting, isn’t it, what happens when fear kicks in. Up to this point, Moses has for the people been the representation of God. But, as he is delayed in coming back down from the mountain, the people begin to be afraid. As they wait at the bottom of the mountain, their anxiety builds. These people who have been traumatized by lives lived under slavery, who have been liberated in an amazing, yet terrifying, way by God, begin to be afraid. Then, when Moses doesn’t return, day after day, one can only wonder what they are thinking. That this God had brought them out of slavery, that Moses has abandoned them, and that they will simply perish in the wilderness. 

So, they turn to the one remaining representative of God in their midst. Aaron. Our English translation doesn’t give it justice. In fact the language in the original Hebrew suggests that they confront Aaron angrily and demand that he do something. Israel had just agreed to the rules and they immediately mess them up. Even as Aaron tries to bring them back in, it is impossible. Because the fear has taken hold of them.

I wonder how often this happens to us. How often fear takes hold of us and we allow it pull us away from God and from who God wants us to be. And if you say that this never happens to you, perhaps you are the one most living in fear.

Up on the mountain, we see a God who is angry and who wants to destroy the people. “Your people,” God says to Moses. “Your people whom you brought up out of the land of Egypt - they are ruining everything.”

God then proposes a backup plan - that God will destroy the people and make a new nation from Moses. It’s not clear whether God is completely fed up with Israel or whether this is just some kind of test for Moses. But, then, God tells Moses to leave - to give God some space so that God’s anger can burn hot.

It’s an uncomfortable image of God for us, isn’t it? It messes with our concept of a God who is tender and compassionate and reframes it to remember that there is this ferocious side to God who doesn’t abide people doing things in violation of God’s covenant. It makes us a little uncomfortable, doesn’t it? But, isn’t it true that, if we have tamed God then we, too, have begun to worship a false god like Israel? And, perhaps, need to be reminded that God is a power that is not to be trifled with?

Moses responds. His approach is interesting here - perhaps a little bit of reverse psychology. He figures out what will matter to God and then helps God remember. First, he appeals to God’s reputation. “This will look bad for you. You brought Israel out with such power. How will this look to all the nations?” Then, Moses appeals to God’s character and reminds God of God’s obligation under the covenant. “Remember the patriarchs and your promise to them? Do you want to break that promise?” 

Then, our story tells us, “the LORD changed his mind.”

This entire mountaintop scene may make us a little uneasy.  It may make us struggle between a biblical understanding and a philosophical understanding of God. Isn’t God, after all, unchangeable? Steadfast? Faithful? 

Yet, the twist to this story is that, by its end, Moses has helped God to remain unchanged - by keeping God’s covenant with Israel. By sticking with the original plan. God was about to change, but Moses has talked God into keeping God’s original promise. Unchanged. Steadfast. Faithful to God’s own promises. 

This is the God we know, the God we trust. The God described just a couple of chapters later: The Lord is merciful and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in covenant faithfulness. Forgiving sin, but not leaving the wicked unpunished. (Ex. 34:6-7)

Perhaps that’s the most important message for us in this text today. We, who are followers of Jesus, God’s Son sent to us to redeem us. To restore us back into relationship and into the presence of God. No matter how many times we mess up. No matter how often our fear drives us away to other gods. God continues to seek us out. Relentlessly. Steadfastly. With covenantal faithfulness. 

May this give us comfort in times of fear. In times of anxiety. And at every time in our lives.  Amen.

Preached October 11, 2020, online with Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY

19th Sunday after Pentecost

Readings: Exodus 32:1-14; Luke 22:33-34

Promises Made, Promises Broken: Bitter and Sweet

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Our reading continues in chapter 13.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pentecost 18

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

Promises Made, Promises Broken: Love Withheld

When we left our story last week, God had promised to Abram that he would have as many descendants as there are stars in the sky. God made good on that promise, and Abram and Sarai, who later became known as Abraham and Sarah, became the parents to Isaac. Isaac married Rebekah, and they became the parents to Jacob and Esau. After this, their story gets pretty complicated. But, the thread of the narrative we will follow is the one where Jacob, who is also known as Israel, becomes the father to twelve sons and one daughter, living in the land of Canaan. Jacob’s youngest son is Joseph. Our story begins in Genesis, chapter 37. 

Now Israel loved Joseph more than any of his other sons because he was born when Jacob was old. Jacob had made for him a long robe. When his brothers saw that their father loved him more than any of his brothers, they hated him and couldn’t even talk nicely to him.

Joseph had a dream and told it to his brothers, which made them hate him even more. He said to them, “Listen to this dream I had. When we were binding stalks of grain in the field, my stalk got up and stood upright, while your stalks gathered around it and bowed down to my stalk.”

His brothers said to him, “Will you really be our king and rule over us?” So they hated him even more because of the dreams he told them.

Joseph had several dreams like this. In fact, they were visions. These dreams did not win him any love from his brothers. Yet, Joseph remained his father’s favorite. One day, Jacob sent him - his favorite son - to go check on his other sons as they pastured the flocks. One of Joseph’s eleven brothers was Reuben. 

Joseph went after his brothers and found them in Dothan.

They saw Joseph in the distance before he got close to them, and they plotted to kill him. The brothers said to each other, “Here comes the big dreamer. Come on now, let’s kill him and throw him into one of the cisterns, and we’ll say a wild animal devoured him. Then we will see what becomes of his dreams!”

When Reuben heard what they said, he saved him from them, telling them, “Let’s not take his life.” Reuben said to them, “Don’t spill his blood! Throw him into this desert cistern, but don’t lay a hand on him.” He intended to save Joseph from them and take him back to his father.

The brothers threw Joseph into a pit. Then, they sat down to eat and to contemplate what to do with him next. Another of Joseph’s brothers was Judah.

Judah said to his brothers, “What do we gain if we kill our brother and hide his blood? Come on, let’s sell him to the Ishmaelites. Let’s not harm him because he’s our brother; he’s family.” His brothers agreed. When some Midianite traders passed by, they pulled Joseph up out of the cistern. They sold him to the Ishmaelites for twenty pieces of silver, and they brought Joseph to Egypt.

When Reuben returned to the cistern and found that Joseph wasn’t in it, he tore his clothes. Then he returned to his brothers and said, “The boy’s gone! And I—where can I go now?”

His brothers took Joseph’s robe, slaughtered a male goat, and dipped the robe in the blood. They took the long robe, brought it to their father, [Jacob] and said, “We found this. See if it’s your son’s robe or not.”

He recognized it and said, “It’s my son’s robe! A wild animal has devoured him. Joseph must have been torn to pieces!” Then Jacob tore his clothes, put a simple mourning cloth around his waist, and mourned for his son for many days.

Though his brothers and their father, Jacob, thought he was dead, Joseph had actually been taken to Egypt. There he was sold and kept as a slave. Yet, over time, his master saw that the Lord was with him and placed him into a position of responsibility. Joseph was very successful at all that he did. He became very powerful as an interpreter of dreams and, eventually, came to be in the service of Pharaoh, the king of Egypt. 

The dreams Joseph interpreted for Pharaoh came true. The first seven years in Egypt were plentiful and Joseph, working as Pharaoh’s assistant was able to store up grain and other produce abundantly. But, then, as Joseph had predicted, a famine came to the land. This famine, which lasted seven years, also affected Canaan. Joseph’s brothers, hearing that there was grain in Egypt, traveled there, hoping to keep their families alive. They came into Joseph’s presence, but did not recognize him in his position of power, even though Joseph recognized them. Eventually, Joseph revealed himself to his brothers. And he shared that God had sent him ahead of them to help them through this terrible famine. When Jacob heard that his beloved youngest son was alive, he packed up and brought his entire family to Egypt for the reunion of a lifetime. Jacob was able to die in peace and his remains were taken back to Canaan for burial, as he had requested. Our reading continues in Genesis, chapter 50.

When Joseph’s brothers realized that their father was now dead, they said, “What if Joseph bears a grudge against us, and wants to pay us back seriously for all of the terrible things we did to him?” 

So they approached Joseph and said, “Your father gave orders before he died, telling us, ‘This is what you should say to Joseph. “Please, forgive your brothers’ sins and misdeeds, for they did terrible things to you. Now, please forgive the sins of the servants of your father’s God.”’” Joseph wept when they spoke to him.

His brothers wept too, fell down in front of him, and said, “We’re here as your slaves.”

But Joseph said to them, “Don’t be afraid. Am I God? You planned something bad for me, but God produced something good from it, in order to save the lives of many people, just as he’s doing today. Now, don’t be afraid. I will take care of you and your children.” So he put them at ease and spoke reassuringly to them. --Genesis 37:3-8, 17b-22, 26-34; 50:15-21 (CEB)

As I’ve been reflecting on this story of Joseph and his brothers over the past week, I think we simply need to acknowledge at this point that this is a horrifying story. There is what seems to be the deepest of hatred and evil at work. It’s a story of the harm love can cause, when love is given abundantly to some and more scarcely to others. Because it seems that everything begins with the favoritism shown by Jacob to his youngest son, Joseph. This story shows the damage that can come when one is loved more than others. 

And, yet, Joseph’s brothers are not blameless. Not at all. Even jerks do not deserve to be thrown into a pit to die, much less sold into slavery. Brothers selling brother. It’s almost unimaginable, isn’t it? And, yet, we see it in families, perhaps to some degree, even in our own families - what happens when love is given unequally. And we can even look more broadly than our families. All we need do is notice what has been happening in our own city this past week. As we witness the result of a people not loved equally, not given the privileges of others, not experiencing justice in the same way as others. As those of us who are white. 

Love withheld. Or love given out in unequal measure causes harm. Results in evil. Brings death. In so many ways.

At the end of this story, after Jacob has died and his remains have been taken back to Canaan for burial and after Joseph and his brothers return to Egypt, we see how the power dynamic has shifted. No longer is Joseph at risk of being harmed by his brothers. No longer is Joseph the weaker brother. No longer is Joseph afraid of his brothers. They are afraid of him. They are afraid of what he might do. Because the evil they perpetuated has bound them all of these years, just as it had bound their father to his grief. This one evil act bound them to the guilt of what they had done and the potential fear of what might now happen to them. Joseph held their very lives in his hands.

I wonder, if we were Joseph, what our response might have been? All those years of slavery. The grief of losing his family and being torn away from his father. To strike out against them - to pay them back for their evil act - would have been justified. I wonder, if we were Joseph, what our response might have been?

But, Joseph doesn’t. Because he has the broader vision. Just like in our story last week in which God showed Abraham, Joseph’s grandfather, a broader vision, Joseph, the dreamer, has that vision. That he has been blessed to be a blessing. So, his response, when his brothers come to him begging for his forgiveness is to forgive. And that, my friends, is where redemption happens and the unbinding begins.  

What will it take for redemption to happen in our broken families? For the unbinding to begin in our broken city? In our broken world? 

In their public statement this week, issued after the decision in the Breonna Taylor shooting, Bishop Eaton and Bishop Gafjken said it best. “Our baptismal covenant with God calls us to better relationship with one another...We are called to be the hands and feet of Christ’s presence in the world. The covenantal relationship we have with God in Christ leads us to our neighbors in a common cause to confront the reality of systemic racism [or any other ism] in our country. We come together at the cross.” 

We come together at the cross. Because it is at the cross where we meet Jesus, the One who reconciles. It is at the cross where we meet Jesus, the One who shows us God’s vision in flesh and blood. It is at the cross where we meet Jesus, the One who unbinds us. And it is at the cross where we meet Jesus, the One who teaches us that, even in the most evil of situations, God will reckon it for good. 

Because of this One, we have peace. We have hope. We are loved. Amen.

Preached September 27, 2020 online at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Pentecost 17

Readings: Genesis 37:3-8, 17b-22, 26-34; 50:15-21; Luke 6:27-36

Promises Made, Promises Broken: Do Not Fear!

Our theme for this entire year is about how God is revealed in story. Today’s zooms in on the story from last week, moving from Adam and Eve, our distant ancestors, to today’s story, which focuses on two people with whom God forges a relationship. It’s a story that shows us that, no matter how often we break our promises to God, God continues to make and keep promises to bless and to care for God’s people. It is this theme of promises made and promises broken that we will be considering over the next several weeks. 

Today, our story is from the book of Genesis, chapter 15.

After these things the word of the LORD came to Abram in a vision, "Do not be afraid, Abram, I am your shield; your reward shall be very great." But Abram said, "O Lord GOD, what will you give me? For I continue childless, and the heir of my house is Eliezer of Damascus." And Abram said, "You have given me no offspring, and so a slave born in my house is to be my heir." But the word of the LORD came to him, "This man shall not be your heir; no one but your very own issue shall be your heir." He brought him outside and said, "Look toward heaven and count the stars, if you are able to count them." Then he said to him, "So shall your descendants be." And he believed the LORD; and the LORD reckoned it to him as righteousness. --Genesis 15:1-6 (NRSV)

If you’ve seen the news over the past 24-48 hours, then you know about the passing of Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg. Over these past few years, her popularity has soared in our country, particularly among younger women. The Notorious RBG, she became known as. Graduating first in her class at Columbia Law. And who, unable to find work as a young female lawyer, moved into education, eventually teaching law at her alma mater. But, it was her legal work on behalf of women for which she is most known, a formidable advocate for gender equality and women’s rights - losing only 1 of 5 arguments before the Supreme Court. And an advocate without whom I would most likely not be here with you today as an ordained member of the clergy.

On Friday night after I found out she had died, I went onto Twitter to see what was being said about her and about her legacy. I was particularly struck by two tweets, coming just a couple of hours apart. 

The first from a woman named Ruth Franklin, who wrote that there is a tradition in Judaism that if a person dies on Rosh Hashanah - which is the Jewish New Year and the first of the high holy days set out in Leviticus, a time of solemn reflection and repentance that concludes with Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the year...if a person dies on Rosh Hashanah, as did Justice Ginsburg, they are known as a tzaddik, a person of great righteousness. 

And then there was the second tweet. From Nina Totenburg, a reporter for public radio who has covered the courts in our country for decades. She wrote this. "There is a Jewish teaching that says that those who die just before the Jewish new year are the ones God has held back until the last moment because they were needed most & were the most righteous. And so it was that RBG died as the sun was settling last night marking the beginning of Rosh Hashanah."

So, there’s this. A tzaddik. A person of great righteousness, one of the most needed and most righteous. And, then, there’s this. From our story today: Abraham believed the LORD; and the LORD reckoned it to him as righteousness. Or, in Hebrew, tzedakah.

Do you see the connection between these two words? Tzaddik and tzedakah. One the noun. The person - the righteous person. The other the act of righteousness, of being righteous. The verb. Both related to the word, righteousness.

We often confuse this word righteousness. We have been too impacted by pietistic and moralistic movements in Christianity that connect this word righteousness with right and wrong. That to be righteous is about being a good person. Or not. 

In the Hebrew scriptures, though, the term, righteousness, is a term of relationship and of justice. To be a righteous person is to be a person who abides by the claims that their relationship makes on them. To do all that is needed to remain in the relationship. And if one fails in this, to be restored back into relationship - because that’s what justice is about, about always being restored back into the relationship. With one another. And, particularly, with God. 

In Abram’s case, he is judged righteous in relation to his covenant with God. 

We first hear of this covenant - this promise - in Genesis 12. God calls Abram to pick up his entire family and household. To leave his homeland. And to move to a land that God had promised to Abram and his wife Sarai. It was there that God promised to bless him. To make of him a great nation. To make his name great so that he could be a blessing. This was the promise God made to Abram. And to Sarai.

But, by today’s reading in chapter 15, years have passed. Abram and Sarai have no heir. No way to become this great nation promised by God. They become discouraged. Fearful that God will not keep God’s promise. They begin to take things into their own hands, preparing to name their servant as their heir. It is here where God steps in. “Do not be afraid,” God says to Abram. “I am your shield. Your protector.”

And, then, God tells Abram to look to the skies. To count the stars, if you can. So, shall your descendants be.

 

Aren’t we just like Abram and Sarai? We, who are the heirs of that promise. Living in the time between the first and second coming of the Messiah, long promised, not only to Israel, but to us, as well. We who wait for God’s kingdom to come on earth in all its fullness. And its truth. And justice. And righteousness. It’s easy to become discouraged. Particularly, this year. When it feels as though every time we turn on the television, or open a newspaper, or check our phones, it’s just one more thing. One more devastating thing. How easy it is to lose all hope! How easy it is to sink into despair! 

“Do not fear,” God says to Abram. And to us. “Do not fear! Look to the skies. See its broad expanse. Trust that my vision is broader than the narrow horizon of your limited human eyesight. Trust in me and in my promises, even when it seems that they and you are in jeopardy. Have faith! Know that I am your shield. Your great protector. Believe that your reward will be great!"

May we, like Abram, have faith. May we trust in God’s promises despite all evidence to the contrary. And may we lean into the future - into God’s future - with hope. That we, too, may be judged righteous, faithful in our relationship with the Creator. May God grant this. Amen.  

Preached Sunday, September 20, 2020, online at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.

Pentecost 16

Readings: Genesis 15:1-6; Galatians 3:6-9; Psalm 105:1-15

Our Money Story: Restore

Our reading today is from the beginning. Genesis. And in two parts, beginning first in chapter 2.

On the day the Lord God made earth and sky— before any wild plants appeared on the earth, and before any field crops grew, because the Lord God hadn’t yet sent rain on the earth and there was still no human being to farm the fertile land, though a stream rose from the earth and watered all of the fertile land— the Lord God formed the human from the topsoil of the fertile land and blew life’s breath into his nostrils. The human came to life.

The Lord God took the human and settled him in the garden of Eden to farm it and to take care of it. The Lord God commanded the human, “Eat your fill from all of the garden’s trees; but don’t eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, because on the day you eat from it, you will die!”

There are two stories of creation at the beginning of Genesis. One in chapter 1. And a second creation story in chapter 2, which we just heard a portion of. Each of these stories is different. Each of them has a very distinct story to tell. 

In chapter 1, we have this amazing story of the beginning of the world, created out of chaos by the very breath of God. Shaped, formed and filled by God’s Word. An ordered world. Crowned at the end by God’s greatest achievement - humankind. Male and female. Made in God’s own image. Genesis 1 is this great, grand story of the creation of our big, beautiful world and all that inhabits it. 

In Genesis 2, we move from this big creation story to one of intimacy and relationship. A story of the first people. And of the beginning of their relationship with God. And it all begins in the dirt.

Did you notice that detail? The first human wasn’t made from clay - that sturdy, durable soil that can be molded and shaped and is strong. No, the first human was made from dust. Topsoil.

We miss it in English, but here in the Hebrew, there’s a pun. A play on words happening. ‘Adam in Hebrew means human. It’s not a proper name. Not a gendered name. ‘Adam represents that first human being, created by God out of dust, which in Hebrew is ‘adamah. ‘Adam. ‘Adamah. The first human is created out of fine, dry particles of earth so light and so fragile that they can easily be picked up and carried by the wind. Just like our own human existence, which is also so fragile. 

Then as the story continues, God takes the human and puts him in Eden to serve it. Not to have dominion over it, but to serve. To work for it. God tells ‘adam to eat fully from the trees in the garden. Except from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. The phrase “good and evil” in Hebrew is an idiom that simply means everything. This is not about right and wrong. This is about everything - about knowing everything. About omniscience. About being like God.

There is also, in Genesis 2, no distinction between human and animal life. Both are called living creatures in Hebrew. Living creatures who all come from the same place...the dust of the ground. 

After making ‘adam, God discovers that being alone for this creature is not good. Human beings need companionship, relationship, community. God takes ‘adam and out of the human makes a companion. Woman. A helper. Sometimes, in the Hebrew bible, God is referred to as a helper - as Israel’s helper. So, this woman is not subordinate. This is not a hierarchy. Adam needs Eve as companion, as partner, as fellow worker in the garden - in God’s Garden of Eden.

There is intimacy in this second chapter of Genesis. There is an intimate link between the Creator and the created.

But the story continues with chapter 3.

The snake was the most intelligent of all the wild animals that the Lord God had made. He said to the woman, “Did God really say that you shouldn’t eat from any tree in the garden?”

The woman said to the snake, “We may eat the fruit of the garden’s trees but not the fruit of the tree in the middle of the garden. God said, ‘Don’t eat from it, and don’t touch it, or you will die.’”

The snake said to the woman, “You won’t die! God knows that on the day you eat from it, you will see clearly and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.” The woman saw that the tree was beautiful with delicious food and that the tree would provide wisdom, so she took some of its fruit and ate it, and also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it. Then they both saw clearly and knew that they were naked. So they sewed fig leaves together and made garments for themselves.

During that day’s cool evening breeze, they heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden; and the man and his wife hid themselves from the Lord God in the middle of the garden’s trees.

Oh, that snake. That crafty snake. 

It is here in Genesis 3 where the great central act of disobedience is introduced. In choosing to disobey God’s command, the humans radically alter their understanding of themselves and of their world. Their eyes are opened. They become self-aware.  

Previously, they were living in a world that was theo-centric. Centered around God. Now, they believe they live in a world centered around themselves. Where they can assert that they themselves are the center of value. The center of decision making. The center of knowledge. 

This knowledge of all things - this desire to be like God - results in alienation from God and from the soil - ‘adamah - to which they are so deeply connected. 

This is the story we see in Genesis 3. The human story. Our story. 

It’s a story about moving from creation to distortion. The distortion of God’s desire for us and for the world. Of a broken relationship between God and humanity. Of broken relationships between neighbors. Of a broken relationship with the dust of the ground and with all living creatures. A world of scarcity and “not enough,” as we hoard God’s abundance. Where we chase the idea of self-worth by seeking more or trying to be more. And more. And more. It is a story that has moved from creation to distortion. It is our story. Our very human story. 

But this is not God’s story. Because God’s story is not about distortion. Not about alienation. But about restoration. About restoring dignity to those disenfranchised. About restoring broken relationships with neighbors. About restoring our own lives - so that we might be centered, healthy, spirit-filled beings, caring for all living creatures and all creation. It is a story about enough. About more than enough. About abundance.

In God’s story, God continuously works to move us from distortion. To restoration. From death. To life. That we might be reconciled with God, with one another, with all creation. 

As we move throughout this lectionary year, we will see over and over and over again, our God, revealed in the story. A God of promise. A God of relationship. A God of mercy. And a God of new life. A God who comes near to us in Jesus, the great restorer - the great reconciler - of the world. And a God who sends us into the world with this good news of restoration.

Why does God do this? In one word. Love. You and I, sisters and brothers, we are God’s creation with whom God desires to be in intimate relationship. You and I - we belong to God. You and I - we are created by God. You and I - we are God’s beloved. Amen.

Preached September 13, 2020, online at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.

Pentecost 15/Rally Day

Readings: Gen. 2: 4b-7, 15-17; 3:1-8; Luke 11:2-4; Psalm 8

Our Money Story: Reimagine

 Jesus told them, "When you pray, say:
‘Father, uphold the holiness of your name.
Bring in your kingdom.
Give us the bread we need for today.
Forgive us our sins,
    for we also forgive everyone who has wronged us.

And don't lead us into temptation.'"  --Luke 11:2-4 (CEB)

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

I know this may be confusing. We are in our third and final week, considering the Lord’s Prayer as it is written in the Gospel of Luke. In addition, we are in our third of four weeks focusing on the topic of our Money Story. That’s where it may get confusing. It would seem reasonable that our discussion around our money stories should conclude with our discussion around Luke’s Lord Prayer. But, have you ever experienced the end of something in your life while at the same time something else continued on? Let’s think of middle school, for example. You can finish fifth grade, but still be in middle school, right? Or think of parenting. Your child can finish college and move away, but your role as parent doesn’t end, right? It continues on.

So it is sometimes with sermons and sermon series. I hope that after next week, all of this will have made sense to you. Not to mention being a carrot for you to join us in worship next week, too!

Before we focus in on verse 4 of today’s reading, I’d like us to look back at this entire prayer in Luke in a slightly different way. We haven’t yet talked about this, but if we look closely at these three verses, we see that they are a chiasm. A chiasm is a tool in ancient literature and argument in which the elements of a passage are divided into parallel members. 

A Father, uphold the holiness of your name.

B Bring in your kingdom,

C Give us the bread we need for today.

B’ Forgive us our sins, for we also forgive everyone who has wronged us.

A’ And don’t lead us into temptation.

The parallelism works from the outside in. So, if you take our reading in Luke, you will see that the lines marked with an A are parallel to each other, here in white. Likewise, the B lines are also parallel to one another. In green. In the center of the chiasm is line C. This is the most important line in the chiasm. Revealing the deepest concern of the passage. A prayer for God to give us provision. What we need.

Why do we need this provision? The question may seem silly to us. Of course we need food and shelter. To live. But, perhaps this question about why we need this provision is better answered by backing up in the chiasm. From Line C to Line B. 

Now, there are different types of chiasms. In this particular one, the parallel line are intended to explain each other. So, if we look at the first B line “bring in your kingdom,” it is to be further explained by the second B line. Forgive us our sins, for we also forgive everyone who has wronged us. Our prayer for forgiveness is related to our prayer that God’s kingdom come. 

Now to our focus on verse 4.

The idea of forgiveness here is not intended to be pietistic or moralistic. Instead, about seeking forgiveness because we have failed in working for the coming of God’s kingdom. A kingdom of justice. A kingdom of equity. A kingdom of enough. For everyone. We have failed in working to bring God's kingdom on earth by holding onto our wealth and our possessions. By being unwilling to share abundantly of them, in the same way they have been abundantly shared with us. Maybe we need to be forgiven because Our Money Story has been about scarcity. About hoarding our abundance. And in so doing, by maintaining power. 

To share our possessions is not only a mandate by God by a symbol of our faith. A fruit of it.

But, perhaps we’re on the other side of this. Perhaps we are impoverished. Poor. Lacking even the basic essentials. Wronged by those with means. Perhaps we lack power, wronged by systemic structures that seem to only keep us enslaved. We, too, are called to forgiveness. To forgive those who have wronged us.

To forgive and to be forgiven frees us from all that binds us. It reconciles us with God and with one another. So that we might begin to reimagine a world where social and economic systems no longer disparage or impoverish, but provide for and benefit everyone. A world consistent with the reign of God. And a world in which the holiness of God’s name is upheld and we are not tempted to idolatry.

We’ve now been in this time of pandemic for nearly six months. A few months into it, I remember reading several articles and hearing news reports about how, even in the midst of the evil we were experiencing, it seemed as though we were learning important lessons and considering the possibility of a new way of being after all of this was over. Spending more time with family and in relationship with others. Working to simplify our lives and be less busy and less consumed with acquiring stuff. Spending more time on our spiritual lives and our relationship with God and our faith community. And wanting to create new structures in our world, structures in which the inequities that have become so apparent in these past few months might be repaired. The world was, even in this midst of pandemic, vividly reimagining what might come out of this period of bondage. 

Last week, we talked about the year of jubilee set forth in Deuteronomy. A Sabbath year, where everyone and everything was to rest. To cease work. In a way it feels as though we are in a coronavirus-induced year of jubilee. Yet, as much as we might hope that things will be different at the end of this jubilee - this Sabbath year, we are already beginning to witness this hopefulness diminish as we become more tired and disheartened. And more divided. I have no doubt that, when it does end, credit card companies will charge interest again. Libraries will impose late fees. Prisons will be full once more. Rent will be due and not forgiven. The land will be worked and overworked. Just as our worth, our value, will, once again, be measured by our productivity or lack thereof.

Yet we, you and I as the church, are called to something different. We are called to bear witness to a greater jubilee, a fuller Sabbath, a never-ending kingdom inaugurated by Jesus. To continue to reimagine our money stories and to live out our reimagined lives in ways consistent with God’s kingdom. Lives of solidarity with and compassion for the poor and the dispossessed. Lives driven, not by consumerism and consumption, but by simplicity and gratitude for the abundance God showers on us, knowing that there is more than enough. And lives in which we are released from all that keeps us in bondage so that we might remember God’s name and, as the reconciled people of God, might fully experience the love God shows us through Christ Jesus. Witnesses to this reimagined way of being.

Luke in his version of the Lord’s Prayer calls us to pray for the coming of this kingdom. To be sustained as we wait and witness to it. And, in our praying, to open ourselves up to the divine coming, where God will wrap God’s arms around us and bind up our wounds. As God will do for the world.

Amen.

Preached September 13, 2020, online at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.

Pentecost 14

Readings: Luke 11:2-4; Psalm 126

Our Money Story: Release

This has been another rough week. Something, it seems, that is to be expected in this year of years, 2020. This week we are witnessing devastation in our world due to weather events, including hurricanes and typhoons, and extreme temperatures and wildfires, here and in other parts of the world. We’ve also been witness this week to the tragedy in Wisconsin. And to the continuing pandemic that has taken over 180,000 lives in our country alone. This has been another rough week. And in the midst of it, today, we are talking about release. About letting go.

We read from the gospel of Luke, the 11th chapter. 

Jesus told them, “When you pray, say:

‘Father, uphold the holiness of your name.

Bring in your kingdom.

Give us the bread we need for today.

Forgive us our sins,

    for we also forgive everyone who has wronged us.

And don’t lead us into temptation.’” --Luke 11:2-4 (CEB)

The verse in Luke 11 that is central to our conversation this morning is verse 3. “Give us the bread we need for today.” So, how does this passage connect up with the idea of release?

The concept of release in scripture is closely connected to the Year of Jubilee, which is set forth for Israel as a command in the book of Deuteronomy.  Every seven years, all prisoners and slaves were to be released. All debts forgiven. All property returned to its original owners. Anyone bound by a labor contract was released from it. All labor was to cease for one year. So, during this Year of Jubilee, not only was the land able to rest and experience a Sabbath, but so, too, were the people. For an entire year.

Now, we might look at this and just shake our heads. How was this even possible? How could this even happen? And why was this even necessary? The idea is almost beyond our current cultural comprehension.

But, the idea of release is not all that we learn from Deuteronomy. In this fifth book of the Torah, sin is not connected with one’s own piety, about doing right and wrong. Instead, sin was an economic term. It was about how (or not) you cared for yourself and your neighbor. Because this is how you honored God. So, if you robbed someone of their wages, you sinned. If you failed to release someone from their debt, you sinned. If you made someone a slave, you sinned. If you had too much food and you didn’t give any to your hungry neighbor, you sinned. Sin was an economic term.

All of this was about leveling the playing field. Giving everyone the ability to take care of themselves and their families. And, also, ensuring that, if someone couldn’t, they would be cared for.

But, it was about something even more. It was about idolatry.

In Jesus’ day, much like our own, the underlying economic system encouraged faith and trust in the holding of possessions. Consider the man in Matthew 19. He comes to Jesus asks how he might gain eternal life. He has fulfilled all of the commandments, he tells Jesus. But, Jesus knows what is truly enslaving him. And so, Jesus tells him that, to gain eternal life, he must release all of his possessions and give them to the poor. He can’t. Because he has come to believe that it is his possessions that will save him.

Our every instinct as human beings is towards idolatry. To close in and protect ourselves and our possessions from others. I know this from my own money story.

I grew up on a ranch in the middle of nowhere. I never knew as a child that we were dirt poor. Because it always seemed as though there was enough. Enough food on our table. And enough clothing to wear. We had really no toys to speak of. Yet, there was always something for us to play with. Maybe it was an empty box that we could make a house out of. Maybe it was tall weeds that we could stomp down for a pretend village. Maybe it was simply the dirt in the grove of trees behind our house that my brother and I used to form and shape a little town for the few Matchbox cars we had. Whatever we had always seemed to be enough.

But, that changed as I became an adult and started to make money. It then became all about collecting stuff. Whatever it was. Clothing. Household stuff. Knick knacks. You name it, I probably had it. So much stuff. Stuff that I thought I needed. And along with the stuff came greed. Because I wasn’t buying stuff for anyone else. Only for myself. Until 2012 and my layoff. I learned pretty quickly how useless this stuff was. And how little I actually needed to live on. And what was really important. And what wasn’t.  

Yesterday, in our Saturday morning study, we were asked this question: What is essential in your life, and what is trivial? In other words, what can we release in our lives and what should we hold onto. I’m wondering whether this pandemic and the times in which we are living haven’t begun to reveal for us what is truly important. And what isn’t.  

Christianity has, honestly, become a twisted mess in our country. We have lost what is essential to our faith. That we simply be lovers of God and lovers of people. This is at the heart of who and what God calls us to. To release us from the things that keep us from God. To release us from the shame, the anxiety, the guilt, the greed, or anything else that keeps us from freedom and wholeness. To release us from the idea that our worth is tied to our productivity, or our activity or our business. To let go of these elements of our money story that prevent us from fully living in God’s abundance. And trusting God’s promise - that God will save us. That God will provide for our daily needs. All of this, so that we might then let go of our abundance in love, to serve our neighbor.   

It’s a stunning idea, isn’t it? A terrifying one, too! Yet maybe this is the invitation God is giving us. To simply let go and become part of the great festive banquet that God has prepared for all of God’s people. The banquet, the party, that is a sign that God is acting at last to rescue God’s people and wipe away all tears from all eyes. Or, as Tom Wright says, “Give us this day our daily bread” means simply, “Let the party continue.”

So, let go. Release yourself from whatever keeps you from trusting God's promise. Then, come! And join the party!  

Preached August 30, 2020, online at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.

Pentecost 13

Readings: Luke 11:2-4; Psalm 145:10-18