Set Free for Peace

Sermon for SMHP, Year B, Lent I, Feb. 18, 2018

Mark 1:9-15

                ⁹In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. ¹⁰And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him.

                ¹¹And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” ¹²And the Spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness. ¹³Jesus was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan; and he was with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on him.

                ¹⁴Now after John was arrested, Jesus came to Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God, ¹⁵and saying, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.”

           So why a season devoted to thinking about peace? 

           Well, it is part of our name.

           And it is part of our tradition…in a pretty complicated way.  As Christians we inherit a tradition of Christian peacemaking that goes back to…anyone?

           Jesus.  Jesus taught us everything we need to know about living together in peace, and as his followers, we have inherited his teaching.

           We have also inherited the Crusades.  And the doctrine of “manifest destiny” which exterminated hundreds of thousands of Native Americans in the name of an imagined call for Christians to possess this land.

           We have inherited the Holocaust, which killed six million Jews during World War II, again under the inspiration of false Christian doctrine and a selective reading of our own Martin Luther.

           We inherit that Holocaust and our own American Holocaust.  1.5 million Americans have been killed by gun violence since 1968.  Again this week, seventeen innocent lives were cut down by a troubled fellow with an AR-15 assault rifle which he purchased legally, despite having a clear history of violence and instability. 

           1.5 million people in the last fifty years.  That’s more than the number killed in every war this nation has ever fought.  As one pundit wrote, “we are at war with ourselves.”  And we are losing, friends.  It is too late to rewrite that history, so we will need to live with the shame.  Perhaps we should get the ashes back out.  And add a little sackcloth.

           Anything.  Anything to open or eyes to the destruction we have loosed on one another and our nation.

           We don’t just need a season devoted to peace.  We need a decade, a century, a millennium devoted to peace.  So peace is on our minds this Lenten season, but it will remain on our minds beyond the season.

           Still, we are taking the opportunity to delve deeply into the way of peace and the call to be peacemakers.

           We begin this week at the beginning—the holy point of embarkation for Christian faith, which is…?

           Baptism.  It all begins with baptism.  Baptism marks us for peace.  Baptism washes away the difference and discord that leads to violence and war and makes us one people.  Not by making difference disappear, but by teaching us that our differences make us beautiful.  We are all beautiful creations of a God who made us to be unique and also to be the image of our Creator.  In baptism we are joined to one another and to God, which is highlighted in the promises we make.  When a child is baptized, the parents and sponsors promise to raise the child within the community of the faithful, and to introduce the child to scripture and the teachings of the church,

so that your child may learn to trust God,

proclaim Christ through word and deed,

care for others and the world God made,

and work for justice and peace.

           We are baptized into peace.  It is a promise we make on behalf of our children, and one which should stay with us forever.  That is why the last words Jesus said to the disciples—at least according to Matthew—were “go therefore, and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you.”

           Jesus commanded the disciples to baptize the whole world in the river of peace!

           How’d that work out?

           Baptism is tricky business, isn’t it?  If it becomes forced conversion, which it did, the moment Christianity became the empire’s religious and not the people’s religion—forced conversion doesn’t make the converted a member of an egalitarian religion of peace.  It makes one a subject of paternalism.

           Baptism is tricky business, which we should know, because of how that first Christian baptism turned out.

           Each of the synoptic gospels tells the story of the baptism of Jesus—in slightly different places in the narrative, but the same.  What follows each is exactly the same, except Mark adds the word “immediately,” because Mark does that.

           ¹²And the Spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness.

           The baptismal pattern is the same throughout:  Baptism leads to the wilderness.

           When we are washed clean by God and joined into the one community of love, it doesn’t mean we are through with the devil.  In fact, if the baptism of Jesus is any indicator—and it is—baptism is the doorway to the wilderness, and we are a people called to venture into the wilderness for the sake of conversion.  Not conversion of others, but our own conversion. 

           What this world needs is some good old fashioned conversion…of the heart.  What this world needs is to look the devil in the eye and say “No, devil, I will not heed to your temptation to hate my neighbor because of the color of his skin, because she wears a burka, because ze will not conform to antiquated gender norms.”

           What we all need is to look the devil in the eye—any mirror will do—and realize that the peace into which we were baptized is in our hands.  The peace into which we were baptized depends upon each of us, upon our ability to breathe peace into a world delighted by war…to breathe love into a world delighted by hate.

           My friends, we have been baptized into the love of God and the peacemaking power of Jesus Christ.  We have received that power in our bodies, which is good, because we will be spending some time in the wilderness.  The wilderness has gotten dark and thick with evil, prejudice, hatred.  But we shall make it through, because the power of baptism is the power of conversion—the power to convert closed minds and hardened hearts to the love of God.

           We are set free in baptism.  Free to love.  Free to be loved.  Free to make peace through love.  Amen

          

           

Post-"Post-racial"--Race and Reconciliation. A Lenten Devotion for the Central States Synod

Post “post-racial”:  Race and Reconciliation

           On October 3, 1971, a group of about seventy politicians and academics formed The Southern Growth Policies Board in Durham, North Carolina.  According to a New York Times article published the next day, the members of the board believed their region had “entered an era in which race relations [were] soon to be replaced as a major concern by population increase, industrial development and economic fluctuations.” Duke University President and former North Carolina governor Terry Sanford described the meeting as an opportunity to move forward as a “post-racial South.”

           From our excellent vantage point, nearly fifty years hence, it is clear that neither the South nor the rest of the United States of America is enjoying a “post-racial” existence.  Over the last year, white supremacy has been on display in our nation from Charlottesville to Kansas City to Berkeley, California—that bastion of inclusivity.  Within the boundaries of our synod in 2014, the sin of racism became a clarion call for activists from across our country, who gathered in Ferguson, MO to ask why it is that young black men are so often the target of police bullets.

           We are not “post-racial,” and neither is that a realistic goal.  The eagerness to put away our past without endeavoring change our hearts is indeed the impulse which has gained us this moment of national shame.  Perhaps “shame” seems harsh.  After all, we didn’t march on Charlottesville, right?  Indeed, those displays of utter hate and vile sloganeering seem to make it easier on the rest of us.  We could pretend that we are the ones without sin, if we are not marching with tiki torches and embarrassing ourselves on national television.

           We could do that…if we were not the inheritors of a tradition which reminds us each year that we stand in need of repentance.  We could do that if we did not know that in our hearts beats the devil’s call to see the color of another’s skin before we know the content of the other’s character.

           As this Lenten season begins, let us heed instead the call of the prophet Joel, the call to return to God, who is endlessly merciful and eternally forgiving.  Our God created human beings in God’s image.  If someday we learned to see all of our neighbors as gorgeous reflections of God’s face, we could indeed live into the dream of Dr. King, the dazzling hope of Archbishop Tutu, and the deep and abiding love of our Lord Jesus Christ.

           In this Lenten season, let the color we see be love, which adorns itself in a rainbow of hues and tints that combine to make us one body—the body of Christ.  Let us find ways to work for reconciliation between all of our neighbors, the reconciliation Dr. King dreamt his children would see.  Perhaps it can be the reconciliation which our children will see.

Ideas for further reflection:

1.  As you encounter your neighbors this Lent, try to see God’s reflection in them.  Notice how that changes your sense of who they are.

2.  Pledge to work toward racial reconciliation wherever you are.  Speak out when you hear racist language or see bias and prejudice in action.

Standing in Awe--Sermon Written for St. John, Pittsburg, KS, Transfiguration Sunday, Feb. 11, 2018

Note:  I was assigned to preach at St. John in Pittsburg on Transfiguration Sunday, but there was an ice storm south of KC that prevented the drive.  So this one never saw the light of Sunday morning.  

Sermon for Year B, Transfiguration, St. John, Pittsburg, KS, Feb. 11, 2018

Mark 9:2-9

                ²Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and John, and led them up a high mountain apart, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, ³and his clothes became dazzling white, such as no one on earth could bleach them. ⁴And there appeared to them Elijah with Moses, who were talking with Jesus. ⁵Then Peter said to Jesus, “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” ⁶He did not know what to say, for they were terrified. ⁷Then a cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud there came a voice, “This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!” ⁸Suddenly when they looked around, they saw no one with them any more, but only Jesus.

                ⁹As they were coming down the mountain, he ordered them to tell no one about what they had seen, until after the Son of Man had risen from the dead.

           So we don’t know each other yet, and I don’t want to spend any sermon time giving you my bio.  I do want you to know this about me, because it relates to today’s gospel lesson:

           I am an introvert.

           Other introverts in the room?

           A lot of pastors are introverts which doesn’t make sense, since we spend a lot of time with people…and does make sense because we also spend a lot of time with books, and ideas.  And hopefully we spend a lot of time deep in prayer for our world and our community and our church.

           We spend a lot of time delving deeply into scripture so that we can notice things that might be helpful to our congregations.  Or to other congregations, if, perhaps, you are preaching at St. John Lutheran in Pittsburg, rather than St. Mark Hope and Peace Lutheran in Kansas City—which is where you will find me most Sundays.

          

           There’s a ton of stuff to notice about this morning’s gospel lesson.  I always enjoy preaching on Transfiguration Sunday, because every year, no matter who is telling the story—this year it’s Mark—no matter who it is, it’s a weird story.

           It’s a super weird story, right?  They go up the mountain and Jesus turns all glow-y and Peter wants to build booths and a voice booms out of the clouds, and this is a really weird story.

           And if you really unpack the story, parts of it will begin to make sense, but it’s actually best to let it be weird.  It’s sort of like Austin, Texas.  Have you seen the bumper stickers?  “Keep Austin weird.”  Well, I think we could make a bumper sticker about this text:  “Keep Transfiguration weird.”

           Jesus took with him Peter, and James, and John, up on a mountain, and there they had a profound experience of the holy.  Do we really want to explain it away?  Could we, if we wanted to?

           Probably not.  This is the story of the ordinary juxtaposed to the extraordinary.  In order to understand it, we have to pay attention to both parts.  It begins and ends pretty ordinary. 

           “²Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and John, and led them up a high mountain apart, by themselves.”

           Now, there’s not time in this one sermon to give you Jesus’s whole bio, but you should know this:  Jesus was an introvert.  You can argue with me on this, but I am right.

           In general, introverts like to hang out with a few close friends, rather than big crowds of people.  Jesus spent a lot of time in crowds—mostly because they hunted him down wherever he was.  But then every so often, he had to go off and recharge his batteries.  Sometimes by himself.  And sometimes with the guys—which usually means Peter, James and John.

           Just them, though.  Mark makes a point of it.  Did you notice that?  He “led them up a high mountain apart, by themselves.

           Kinda redundant for the pithiest of the gospels, isn’t it?

           They were all alone up there.

           It’s important that we understand that.

           In fact, I think that might be the point of this whole weird lesson.

           Sometimes, we need to stand, by ourselves, in awe of the Lord.

           Sometimes we need to make the space in our hectic lives to simply stand and gaze upon the majesty of Jesus.  And hear the voice of God.  Reminding us that Jesus is God’s beloved child.

           And in so doing, reminding us that we are God’s beloved children.  God sent the Son into the world in order that the world might be saved, through him.  John 3:17, which for whatever reason never gets hoisted in football stadiums.

           God sent Jesus that we might be saved, through his body and through his words.  They are good words, right?  Words of love and hope that we need to hear all the time, but especially right now. 

           Because this is a weird time.  Our nation is at odds with itself.  And increasingly with the rest of the world.  No matter what political camp you reside in, people are uneasy.  A whole bunch of them are downright angry, and more than a few are pretty hateful about anyone who doesn’t agree with them.

           This is a weird time.  A scary time.

           Fortunately, for us, in the church, it’s also a special time.  This weird old Transfiguration lesson always arrives at just the right time, this year in particular, as we stand upon the threshold of the season of Lent.  Lent is a time for us to stand transfixed before the Lord.  A time to make space in our lives to heed the words of the prophet Joel:  “return to the Lord your God, for God is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love.”

           This Lent, this year, would be a good time to remind ourselves not only that God is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love…but that we are called to be those things as well. 

           Couldn’t our world use a little grace right now?

           Couldn’t we all use a little mercy?  And don’t get me started on “slow to anger.”

           And what the world really needs now, to borrow from a great old song, is love.

           This Lent, I invite you to find your inner introvert—for some of us it is easy, for others, not so much—find your inner introvert and stand before Jesus.  Listen to the voice of God reminding us to listen to his clarion call of love.  Come to church on Ash Wednesday and as those ashes are marked upon your head, feel the cross being marked upon your heart.  A reminder that God so loved the world that God sent the only begotten Son…in order that the world might be saved through him.

           He can save this world.  He can lead us into that love and peace that truly surpass all understanding.

           This Lent, let us stand before the Lord.  Let us find space to hear his word of love.  Let us carve out the room to find the healing we need for our own lives, and then let that healing loose upon the world.

           God knows we need it.

           Jesus knows we need it.

           And I truly hope and believe that we know we need it.

Love Looks Like Service--A Sermon for St. Mark Hope and Peace--Fifth Sunday after Epiphany, Feb. 4, 2018

Mark 1:29-39

                ²⁹As soon as they left the synagogue, they entered the house of Simon and Andrew, with James and John.³⁰Now Simon’s mother-in-law was in bed with a fever, and they told him about her at once.³¹He came and took her by the hand and lifted her up. Then the fever left her, and she began to serve them.

                ³²That evening, at sundown, they brought to him all who were sick or possessed with demons.³³And the whole city was gathered around the door.³⁴And he cured many who were sick with various diseases, and cast out many demons; and he would not permit the demons to speak, because they knew him.³⁵In the morning, while it was still very dark, he got up and went out to a deserted place, and there he prayed.³⁶And Simon and his companions hunted for him.³⁷When they found him, they said to him, “Everyone is searching for you.”³⁸He answered, “Let us go on to the neighboring towns, so that I may proclaim the message there also; for that is what I came out to do.”³⁹And he went throughout Galilee, proclaiming the message in their synagogues and casting out demons.

           I’m going to ask you to do something, and I want you to pay attention to the emotions you feel about doing it.

           Turn off your phone.

           How many don’t have a phone on you?

           Think about that.  Two decades ago-which is a blip in history—two decades ago, most of you would have raised your hands.  Now most of us have a phone on us or nearby at all times.

           How many felt some anxiety about being told to turn it off?

           I mean, you aren’t going to look at it during my sermon, of course!  But you still want the option.

           About the only time I turn my phone off any more is in an airplane.

           And I wanted to ask about that because I want to talk a bit more about Mark’s gospel.  It’s related.

           How many of us struggle to keep focused?  We are working on Task A, but Task B, and Task G, and Facebook and Instagram and checking messages, and “I wonder what’s in the fridge,” and any number of distracting thoughts and ideas and stuff intrude.

           IF you have trouble focusing, Mark’s gospel can be a challenge.  We’ve been working our way through Chapter One in the first gospel, and already it is clear that we will need to hone our focusing skills.  Because this gospel has a lot to teach us about Jesus, and about the call to be his disciples.  Stuff we need to learn, and we will learn, multiple times in every single lesson we get from Mark’s gospel.

           We’re gotta focus.  And take in a lot of information. 

           This morning’s lesson, for example. 

1.  Jesus leaves the synagogue (scene of last week’s lesson) and goes to Simon Peter’s house. Cures the mother-in-law who jumps up and starts serving them—we’ll talk about this in a minute, so don’t get hung up on it now.

2.  At sundown, they bring him a bunch of people who are sick and have demons and he cures them and tells the demons not to talk to him.

3.  He tries to take a day off.  People hunt him down and won’t let him have a whole day off.

4.  He says, “Fine, let’s go and preach the message.”

5.  Verse Thirty-nine:  “And he went throughout Galilee, proclaiming the message in their synagogues and casting out demons.”

           We gotta focus, right?  But on what?  There’s so much going on there. 

           Doesn’t life feel like that these days?

           I’m gonna suggest that there is one line in this lesson should command our attention.  Jesus does a lot of stuff, but he says one thing that is clearly about mission.

           Look at verse 38.  When the disciples found Jesus, in the deserted place where he was trying to be alone, they said everyone had been looking for him.  And he responded, “Let us go on to the neighboring towns, so that I may proclaim the message there also; for that is what I came out to do.”

           In the midst of a gospel in which Jesus is a Man of Action, teaching and healing and casting out demons right and left!—in the midst of that gospel and this chapter of that gospel in which Jesus is doing so much stuff…

           …he declares that what he really came to do was proclaim the message.

           He came to proclaim the message.  Which is?

           Love one another.

           And not just as a nice warm fuzzy feeling…but, of course, as an action.

           Put your love into action.  Love one another…by serving one another.

           That is the message.  That is the most important thing a person can do with their life:  SERVE. YOUR. NEIGHBORS.

           When Jesus healed Simon Peter’s mother-in-law, he was freeing her to serve.  Because serving was the most important thing she could be doing.  It was her place in the household, and we might be a little uneasy about the power dynamics of that, but it is what it is.  The highest value in that culture, and in the world which God created for us to live in and created us to continue creating—the highest value is love proclaimed as service.

           Jesus came to proclaim that message.  That was the crux of his ministry, no pun intended.  (Think about it.)

           But don’t I always say there are two primary ministries of Jesus, and thus of his disciples?

           We are called to proclaim the word of love and…

           …to heal.

           Why is healing just as valuable as proclamation?

           Why is Jesus travelling through the Galilee healing people right and left, curing their illnesses and casting out their demons?

           Because illnesses and demons are barriers to loving and serving.

           It’s hard to focus on serving when you can’t get out of bed.  Or when some demon is talking to Jesus and you can’t get a word in.

           Peter’s mother-in-law can’t serve because she has a terrible illness which has kept her confined to her bed.

           By healing her, Jesus freed her to serve. 

           Demons get in the way of our ability to love other people, and to serve them in love.  We know that’s true, right?

           What are some demons that get in the way of loving each other?  [racism, homophobia, transphobia, classism, busy-ness]

           Those demons get in the way.  And when we cast them out, we are freed to serve.  When we quit asking whether people deserve our help, and we quit seeing them through the lens of their race or the outward and inward expression of their gender or financial well-being—when we can just look at another person and see a child of God, created in the image of God and therefore beautiful—then we are freed to serve.

           When we cast out the demon of busy-ness—all that stuff we do that gets in the way of serving our neighbors the way we do when we’re just imagining it in our heads and not trying to make it fit on the calendar…when we vanquish the demon of busy-ness, we are freed to love and serve our neighbor.

           Lent is coming.  And as I do each year, like clockwork, which it is, I will remind you a couple of weeks before Lent, which is, oh, now, that Lent is a time for reflection. And action.  Action and reflection.  One way we turn our hearts and minds to God in the season of Lent is to take up a Lenten practice.  Give up something that is getting in our way.  Take up something that will draw us closer to God and closer to the message of love and service.

           As you think about what to do this Lent to help you draw closer to God and to the gospel, perhaps you might think about what gets in the way of serving others, and cast it out.  Skip a couple of those Starbucks double mocha lattes and give the money to the ELCA hunger appeal.  Or St. James Place.  Or find some time and use it to serve people in need.

           Do something that helps you focus.

           I will engage in my annual Facebook fast as one of my Lenten practices this year.  Because I want to focus on God, and Facebook encourages me to focus elsewhere.  I haven’t decided what to take up yet this year.  Perhaps we can decide together.

           Community is great for focusing and accountability.  We have church at this time each week because it makes us accountable to each other.  We agree that together we are going to pray and learn about the gospel, and share the sacraments.  We focus on what God is saying to us and how God is calling us…

           …to serve.  There is no more important focus for a Christian life than service to the neighbor.  Let it be our focus this Lent, and every day after.

Dealing with Our Demons--A Sermon for St. Mark Hope and Peace, Fourth Sunday after Epiphany, Jan. 28, 2018

Gospel Mark 1:21-28

                ²¹They went to Capernaum; and when the sabbath came, he entered the synagogue and taught. ²²They were astounded at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes.

           ²³Just then there was in their synagogue a man with an unclean spirit, ²⁴and he cried out, “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God.” ²⁵But Jesus rebuked him, saying, “Be silent, and come out of him!” ²⁶And the unclean spirit, convulsing him and crying with a loud voice, came out of him.

           ²⁷They were all amazed, and they kept on asking one another, “What is this? A new teaching—with authority! He commands even the unclean spirits, and they obey him.”

           ²⁸At once his fame began to spread throughout the surrounding region of Galilee.

           How many know what season we are in?

           [Ordinary Time.  Epiphany.]

           How many think it’s Ordinary Time?

           How many think it’s Epiphany?

           Guess what?  You’re all right!

           The season following Epiphany, January 6, is part of Ordinary time, that lengthy part of the church year that also includes the many Sundays following Pentecost.

           But more and more, we also consider it to be the season of Epiphanytide.  Which is too long a name for a season, but whatever.

           You can tell that we are considering this the season of Epiphany if you are paying attention to the Prayer of the Day.  Each week, those prayers have included language about Jesus being revealed, and images of light which are themes of Epiphany, right?  “Epiphany” actually comes from the Greek word epiphaneia, which means “manifestation” or “revealing.” 

           If you look at this week’s prayer, you will see both.

           And…so what?  What does it matter that Epiphany is about revealing?  Well, it matters because that gives us a lens through which to view our lessons, especially our gospel texts for each week.  During Epiphany, we want to focus in on what our lessons are revealing about Jesus Christ.

           That is especially true this week, when our lesson is part of Epiphany and also part of that exclusive club of Jesus’ First Public Actions.

           Scholars have long suggested that we pay attention to the first public thing Jesus does in a gospel, as a way of uncovering the way that particular evangelist views Jesus.  What those same scholars refer to as Christology.

           Mark’s Christolology, his understanding of who Jesus was, is revealed in all of Chapter One, in which we see Jesus engaging in multiple acts of healing and proclamation, while also being baptized and calling disciples.

           But it is worth paying particular attention this week, when Jesus engages in his first public acts.  Two of them, really.  Teaching and exorcizing a demon.

           Proclamation and healing.

           We want to pay attention to the actions themselves, and also to the reaction of the crowd, because Mark has zeroed in on a particular response which reveals something about Jesus and about his ministry.

           What word do they use, about both the teaching and the healing?

           Authority.  Jesus is a different kind of rabbi.  He commands a room.  He commands an audience.  “He commands even the unclean spirits!”

           The fact that Jesus’ first really public act is an exorcism tells us a ton about what we will learn about Jesus from Mark. 

           Mark’s Jesus is on a mission.  And that mission involves crossing boundaries and casting out demons.  There are nine exorcisms in Mark’s gospel, and even more references to demons and the power to cast out demons. 

           The way Mark reveals Jesus is timely.  Mark is writing to a people living under an oppressive Roman rule.  In 66, the Jews in both the northern and southern territories rebelled against Emperor Nero.  In 70 AD, about the time that Mark finished his writing, Roman forces under the new Emperor, Vespasian, sacked the temple—the center of Jewish life. 

           The people living in that world had some demons.  Demons that had been around for the thirty-something years since Jesus’ death and resurrection.

           What kinds of demons were plaguing the people of Jesus, and Mark?

           --Separation    --Isolation    --Racism    

           How do you suppose a people living with those demons received the word of a Messiah who could cast out those demons?

           How do you suppose life changed for that one young man in Capernaum, up on the north shore of the Galilee?  He was living possessed by something unclean.  Which meant he could not be part of his community. 

           And Jesus, who has the authority to command those unclean spirits and cast them away, restored that man.  Ended his isolation.

           The people there that day knew this was a big deal.

           The people for whom Mark was writing knew that this was a big deal.

           So here’s a question for all of us:  do we know what a big deal this is?

           Do we have any demons that we’d like Jesus to help us destroy?  Because disciples get this ability, remember. 

           What demons are plaguing us these days?

           --Include homophobia and transphobia and talk about RIC Sunday.

           Can Jesus cast out those demons?  Does he have the authority to break down the walls that separate us from one another, the walls of bigotry and shame and stolen opportunity?

           Yeah.  He does. 

           Because his authority is built of love.  His authority continues to be unleashed in our world today, because it is built into the fabric of the life we share.  A life of faith built on love for God and love for neighbor.  Those aren’t just quaint phrases.  That is the power of Jesus Christ.  The power to overcome the demons plaguing our society and the demons plaguing our lives.

           Jesus has that power.

           Jesus has that authority.

           And so do we.

           Jesus isn’t just revealed in our gospel texts for the season of Epiphany.  He is revealed in us.  He is incarnate in us, every time we reach out to a neighbor in love.  And—hear me now—every time we let another reach out to us in love.  Every time that we admit that we need the healing power of love in our lives.

           Love heals.  The gospel is good news of a power based in love which can tear down walls and heal pain and suffering.  Jesus the Christ is a light of love for a world in pain.  Let’s share him.  Let’s heal through him.