"And the people of Nineveh believed God"--A Sermon for First Lutheran Church, St. Joseph, MO, Epiphany + 3, Jan. 14, 2018

Sermon for First Lutheran, St. Joseph, MO, Epiphany + 3, January 21, 2018

Jonah 3:1-5, 10

           The word of the Lord came to Jonah a second time, saying, ²“Get up, go to Nineveh, that great city, and proclaim to it the message that I tell you.” ³So Jonah set out and went to Nineveh, according to the word of the Lord. Now Nineveh was an exceedingly large city, a three days’ walk across. ⁴Jonah began to go into the city, going a day’s walk. And he cried out, “Forty days more, and Nineveh shall be overthrown!”

                ⁵And the people of Nineveh believed God; they proclaimed a fast, and everyone, great and small, put on sackcloth.

           ¹⁰When God saw what they did, how they turned from their evil ways, God turned away from the calamity that God had promised to bring upon them; and God did not do it.

Mark 1:14-20

                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.” ¹⁶As Jesus passed along the Sea of Galilee, he saw Simon and his brother Andrew casting a net into the sea—for they were fishermen. ¹⁷And Jesus said to them, “Follow me and I will make you fish for people.” ¹⁸And immediately they left their nets and followed him. ¹⁹As he went a little farther, he saw James son of Zebedee and his brother John, who were in their boat mending the nets. ²⁰Immediately he called them; and they left their father Zebedee in the boat with the hired men, and followed him.

           Nineveh…was a terrible place.  Terrible.  The people were engaged in all manner of wickedness, every sort of blasphemy against the word of God.  They were refusing to welcome the stranger in their midst, failing to offer food to those who had none, engaging in all manner of exploitative practices, and valuing money above people.

           In short, Nineveh was a real sh…immering example of What Not To Do.

           And God was this close to taking the place down. 

           But our God is a God is grace.

           Say that with me:  “Our God is a God of grace.”

           Our God is a God of second chances.

           Say that with me:  “Our God is a God of second chances.”

           God was ready to overthrow Nineveh, because their wickedness seemed to be beyond redemption, but our God is a God of grace and second chances.

           So God appointed a prophet—Jonah—and sent that prophet to Nineveh.

           Or tried to, anyway.  If you know that Jonah story, you know that his route to Nineveh was…circuitous.  It’s a real fish story.

           Because Jonah didn’t want to go to Nineveh.  He didn’t want to proclaim a word of grace to a people he considered unworthy.  Jonah ran away from the task of proclaiming God’s grace.

           But God, being a God of grace and second chances and all, was willing to let Jonah try again. 

           So Jonah finally relented, and went to Nineveh and informed the town that it would be overthrown in forty days!

           The people of Nineveh heard God’s plea in the voice of God’s prophet.  Here is their response again from our first lesson:

           ⁵And the people of Nineveh believed God; they proclaimed a fast, and everyone, great and small, put on sackcloth.

The people of Nineveh believed God.

How many people in this sanctuary believe God?

Most of you.  Good to know.

           And how many of us know what it truly looks like to believe God?

           Because if you believe God, the people around you ought to be able to see it.

           We tend to think of “belief” as a feeling.  But when God sent Jonah to Nineveh, was God asking the Ninevites to change how they felt?

           I don’t think so.  I think God was asking them to change what they were doing.  To do something different.  The fancy word for it is “repent,” which just means get off the road you’re on and try a better road.

           Fortunately for them, the Ninevites were willing to take God up on the second chance, and they showed it to God.  It’s left out of your lesson, but we’re told that the king himself put on sackcloth, and he ordered that no living thing should eat until God realized their repentance was for real and lifted the sentence upon them.

           That’s how you do it!

           When God offers you a second chance—and God always does—take it!

           When Jesus called his disciples, he was calling them to believe in him and his mission.  But the call told them not that they would be thinking differently—though surely they would.  He called them to get on a different road.

           Today you are fishing for fish.  Tomorrow you will be fishing for people.

           Tomorrow you will be a disciple of Jesus Christ.  And that means acting differently, doesn’t it? 

           Disciples of Jesus Christ welcome and celebrate the stranger, the immigrant, the refugee, in their midst.

           Disciples of Jesus Christ offer their own food to those who have none, and their own clothing to those who need it.

           Disciples of Jesus Christ value people above money.

           Believing God means living God’s commands in your body.  Speaking God’s word of justice with your mouth.  Preaching God’s word of love with your hands, and your feet.

           Believing God and being a disciple of Jesus Christ are actions.

           And re-actions.

           How many in this room are perfect at this stuff?  You always welcome the one in your midst who is strange?  You keep only what you need to feed and clothe yourself, and give the rest to those in need?  You love every person you meet, and are indifferent to money?

           Anyone?

           Discipleship is the practice of getting our actions to match the words of faith we profess.  It is a journey—a lifelong process of pausing every so often to look around and see what road we’re on?  Are we on the Jesus Road?  Or the road to Old Nineveh?

           If you’re familiar with any twelve step program, this is step four:  “Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.”

           As Christians—people who believe God and follow Jesus—we should be taking such an inventory periodically.  Hitting the pause button on life and asking ourselves, “Am I where I want to be?  Am I where God wants me to be?  Do the people around me know that I believe God and follow Jesus based upon my actions—the things I say and the things I do?”

           Little secret:  there are some people who profess Jesus, but that profession is belied in the way they act.  There are people who profess Jesus loudly, but whose actions are more Old Nineveh than New Jerusalem.

           Being a disciple of Jesus Christ doesn’t mean being perfect.  We are just starting the year of Mark in the lectionary.  Watch the disciples as you go through this year.

           Especially in Mark’s gospel, you will see them fall short of the glory of God.  Fail to recognize who Jesus is and what his incarnation means.  Fail to follow his simple commands.  Chasing glory instead of service.

           And isn’t that good news for us?!

           The disciples—the ones who were following Jesus literally—fell short.  And now they all have the same first name:  “Saint.” 

           Why?

           Because our God is a God of grace and second chances.

           Wherever you are, whatever road you are on, our God is at the ready to forgive you and help you change paths.

           If you’re on the road to New Jerusalem, our God is at the ready to help you stay there, to walk with you in your searching and fearless moral inventory. 

           The people of Nineveh believed God.

           I know that the people of First Lutheran Church in St. Joseph, Missouri do too.  So let’s show the world.

The Power in the Water--A Sermon for Baptism of Our Lord Sunday, Jan. 14, 2017*

Two notes:

--We monkeyed with the lectionary a tiny bit, because I wanted to celebrate Epiphany on Sunday, Jan. 7, which was slated as Baptism of Our Lord Sunday.  So we were a week late on this Sunday.

--I wrote this sermon and then turned it into a sermon/devotion when we needed to cancel church.

Sermon for SMHP, Year B, Baptism of our Lord, Jan. 14, 2018

Mark I:4-11

                ⁴John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.⁵And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him, and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins.⁶Now John was clothed with camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey.⁷He proclaimed, “The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals.⁸I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.”

                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.”

           So I’ve been having an interesting relationship with water over the past few weeks.

           Water is one of those things.  On an average day, you don’t think much about it.  You shower in it.  Brush your teeth with it.  Use it to make a caffeinated beverage.

           Water is nice.

           Except when it attacks.

           It kind of attacked us this week, didn’t it?  We went to bed on Wednesday night and it was a balmy night in the fifties.  I let our dogs out at 3 am, and a gentle rain was falling.  It was about 45 degrees.

           By eight am, the temperature was at freezing, and by two hours later, it was barreling toward twenty degrees.  And freezing all of that gentle rain on cars and streets and everything else with the misfortune of being outside.

           Water’s not always so innocuous…

           For about three weeks now, I have been pretty consumed with keeping water from destroying our church.  That singular purpose involved buying new heaters and bringing heaters from our house and making sure we’ve get enough heat in every nook and cranny (and gigantic fellowship hall) to keep the pipes from freezing. 

           There’s been help, of course.  Steve and Tavis have filled and refilled the kerosene heater.  Colleen drove to the hardware store Friday night to get a new heater to replace the one in one of the bathrooms.  We’re all working together to keep those pipes from freezing.

           Which is a funny phrase, if you think about it.  It’s not frozen pipes that cause problems, is it?

           …it’s the water in the pipes.  Freezing and expanding and causing the pipes to break and crack and send water that is supposed to be gently flowing through iron and copper out into the rooms, where it causes all sorts of nefarious mischief. 

           Water is like that.  We control it…most of the time.  You turn a tap and out it comes.  Pull a lever and down and up it rushes, taking with it stuff you don’t want in your house.

           That’s all pretty modern, though, isn’t it?

           In the time of Jesus, water—getting water, keeping water where you wanted it, having enough water—these things consumed a lot of time.  Especially for women, who were generally tasked with the procurement of water, especially in towns and cities—places with wells. 

          

àHow often do you think about where you’re going to get water? 

àWhen you do think about water, what sorts of words come to mind?

           John the Baptizer was out in the wilderness, dunking people in water as a means of forgiveness and repentance.  Today we call that the “means of grace,” meaning that God’s grace is conveyed in the sacraments—baptism and communion.

           It was just water. 

           But John understood its power. 

           He also understood that there was even more power coming in the baptism Jesus would offer.

           That baptism would convey even more than forgiveness and repentance. It would convey the Holy Spirit.  A person being baptized into Jesus—the baptism of the Christian Church—would receive the Holy Spirit.

àWhat does receiving the Holy Spirit feel like?  Look like? 

àCan you tell when someone has received the Holy Spirit?

           When Jesus was baptized, the heavens (sky) opened up, and the Spirit descended.  God’s voice spoke from heaven.  It was a whole Trinitarian Rave!  The power of that water, that moment, that baptism was on full display.  Jesus is the Son. Of. God.  Halleluiah!

           I’ve been a pastor for seventeen years now.  I’ve done a few baptisms.  They’ve been nice.  I’ve baptized some of you.  I’ve baptized your children.

           And never once has the Spirit descended like a dove and a voice boomed down from the ceiling.

           But don’t think for one moment that the water in the font—the water in which we baptize, the water in which we were baptized—don’t think for a moment that there isn’t profound power in that water.

           That water has invited the Holy Spirit to take up residence in the life of every person who has been washed in it.

           That water has connected you to every other believer you see in church [edit:  every person you will see in church next week and every person who has been in church with you].

           That water claimed you as part of the church, and there is no water that can wash away, or freeze away, or flood away, that claim.  You are God’s.  You are in the grip of the Holy Spirit, as vaguely creepy as that might sound.

           The water of baptism still reminds us that we are forgiven, and calls us to repentance—to turn away from that which doesn’t lead us toward love of God and each other.  That water is a means of grace that works its power in us until we are received directly into the arms of our loving God.

           The water of baptism has cleansed you and made you a new creation in Christ.  How will you harness the power of that water?

Questions for Reflection

1.  How can I remember and honor my baptism?

2.  How can I be mindful of the presence of the Holy Spirit?  How can I call upon the Spirit’s help when I am feeling weak or alone?  When I am struggling to serve others, or to care for myself?

3.  What power has the water of my baptism awakened in me?

Herod the Despicable Liar--A Sermon for Epiphany, Jan. 7, 2018

Sermon for SMHP, Worship at our house, Epiphany Sunday, Jan. 7, 2018

Matthew 2:1-12

           In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, ²asking, “Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage.” ³When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him; ⁴and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. ⁵They told him, “In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it has been written by the prophet: ⁶‘And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah; for from you shall come a ruler who is to shepherd my people Israel.’” ⁷Then Herod secretly called for the wise men and learned from them the exact time when the star had appeared. ⁸Then he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, “Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage.”

                ⁹When they had heard the king, they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was. ¹⁰When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. ¹¹On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. ¹²And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road.

           Herod…was a liar.

           It happens, sometimes, that the political leadership of a territory, a kingdom, a nation…falls into the hands of someone who is a despicable liar.

           It falls then to the people who live under the rule of that leader—the despicable liar—to decide how they shall live in the territory, kingdom, nation.

           Will they huddle together in safe spaces—catacombs, churches…social media…and denounce the leader…thereby effecting no change, but allowing themselves to bask in the glow of their own right-ness?

           Or will they find ways to subvert a system gone corrupt?  Will they practice liberation…the best resistance technique for those whose power is neither monetary nor political?

           The story before us this morning is a story of liberation.

           The nativity of Jesus Christ is a story of liberation.

           This is the story of how God liberated God’s people, not through military might, nor through a political coup—but by the brave witness of a long string of people who belong more to the margins than to the halls of power.

           Think about how this story lines up.  Remember how Luke begins his telling?

In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria.

           Men of power:  Caesar Augustus—first Roman Emperor—renamed “Augustus”—the illustrious one—by the Roman Senate.  (Sometimes the Senate goes along with a despotic ruler.)

           Publius Sulpicius Quirinius—Governor of Syria, to which Judea was added for the purpose of the census.

           Luke opens the story of the birth of Jesus with men of power.  But what happens next?  The baby is born, and laid in a manger, “because there was no place for them at the inn.”

           Jesus was born in the world of Augustus and Quirinius…in a stable.

           What’s the next line?  “In that region, there were shepherds, abiding in the fields, keeping watch over their flocks by night.”

           The Word came into the world of Augustus and Quirinius.  And the first to hear of it, and tell of it, were shepherds.

           This is a story of liberation.

           Matthew tells the story differently.  See if you hear an echo, though:  In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem.

           Herod the Great.  Jesus the baby.  Wise men from the East.

           This is a story of liberation.  It is a story that is sometimes used to separate people from one another, which makes no sense if we truly listen to the story.

           Persian astrologers—people pretty far outside mainstream Judean society—came to find Jesus.  Indeed, they saved Jesus, by taking a different road home.

           It was a subversive act:  taking a different road.  One of the tools of liberation, as the prophets and evangelists have taught them to us, is simply refusing to participate in an unjust system.  Those wise guys from the margins subverted Herod the Despicable Liar by simply refusing to participate in his plan to destroy the good which came into the world with Jesus. 

           It was good news for the whole world—Persians, and shepherds, and working class folks from Nazareth.

           Addicts and janitors and investment bankers—good news for them all!

           And allowing the good news to grow and be heard by the whole world sometimes means taking a different road.

           Taking a different road can be an act of liberation.

           We are living in a time of deep division.  A time in which faith in Jesus Christ has been twisted into a justification for drawing lines between groups of people. 

           Those wise men who saved Jesus…would fall under the current travel ban and be precluded from traveling to the US.

           The separation in our nation and beyond is palpable these days.  White supremacists are recreating the horrors of forgotten decades…and centuries, and often dragging Jesus into their rhetoric.

           From those who have little, more is being demanded.

           And the response of those who find the whole thing…despicable…is often a lot of foot-stamping that changes nothing.  I am chief among the foot-stampers, so I know of which I speak.

           So I feel fully able to say, “let’s take a different road,” since I need that word myself.

           There’s got to be a different road than tweeting and posting and grousing about all the people who look and think and act differently than we do.  Because the road we are on is taking us to Herod’s Palace of Paranoia.

           It’s a new year.  It’s Epiphany Sunday.  And we need a new road.

           I think all of those ideas fit together rather nicely.

           What if in this new year (and maybe the next couple of years as well) we commit to listening to people who have ideas different from ours.  And really listening, not that listening you do when you’re really just formulating what you’re going to say next.  What if we saw everyone else as a beloved child of God, and worked hard to reveal the love of Jesus to them?

           Which means we continue to stand up for what Jesus has revealed to us, right?  We continue to witness to the child who was revealed to the ones on the margins.  We continue to work for the liberation of those on the margins. 

           But we do that by loving the ones at the center, as we love the ones on the margins.  And everybody in between.

           Because if we can reveal Christ to Herod, we can set this whole world on a different road.

           If we can reveal Christ to those who know only Herod’s ways, the light will shine in darkness.

           And the darkness will be overcome.

Make Room--A Sermon for Christmas Eve

Sermon for SMHP, Christmas Eve 2017

Luke 2:1-14

           In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. ²This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. ³All went to their own towns to be registered. ⁴Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David. ⁵He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child.

           ⁶While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. ⁷And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.

                ⁸In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. ⁹Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified.

           ¹⁰But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: ¹¹to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. ¹²This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” ¹³And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, ¹⁴“Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace.”

           When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, ‘Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.’ ¹⁶So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger.¹⁷When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child; ¹⁸and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them. ¹⁹But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart. ²⁰The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them.

           “There was no place for them in the inn.”

           Jesus was born into a world that was full.  Full of empires.  Full of rulers for those empires and kingdoms—Augustus, Quirinius, Herod. 

           The world was so full it was necessary to count.  Count the people.  Count their money.  Take some of it.  Take some more.  Give it to the people who already had enough.

           This is the setting into which God chose to be born.  A world that, for all intents and purposes, belonged to Augustus, and Quirinius—men who had taken it, and held it, by force. 

           This is the world into which God chose to become incarnate…in the most exquisite of contrast to all of the power and extravagance of Empire.  “A child, wrapped in bands of cloth, and lying in a manger…” because “there was no place for them in the inn.”

           The inn had no place for them.  The world didn’t seem to have room for Emmanuel to be born.

           But the animals made room.  And some shepherds made haste, having heard that a thing had taken place that was for them.  For them and for all of the people left out by the empire’s lopsided allegiances.

           The shepherds made room in their busy night of shepherding to go and see the thing that had taken place…just as all of you have made space to come and see and hear about the thing—the most amazing thing that ever happened.  It has taken place for us tonight; it takes place at this time every year.  Every time we remember that God came down for us.  That a child has been born for us.

           We need to hear and to tell that story every year, but I feel as if this year it might be particularly poignant.

           Our world doesn’t seem to have much room for Jesus right now, either.

           Even the celebration of his birth doesn’t seem to have much room for him—for his messy humanity and his egalitarian values and his love for all people.

           There seems to be less room for those things these days.

           I’m afraid the image that sums up the world this Christmas for me is going to be that Mercedez commercial--you might it:  a little boy wakes up and runs to the window.  He looks out at the empty snow covered driveway and hangs his head in disappointment.  The same scene plays out when he is an older boy, and then a teenager.

           Next scene, and a little voice says, “Daddy, it’s Christmas!”  The man rolls out of bed and heads for his living room, passing a window.  He slows, stops, and goes back to the window.  Outside in the driveway is a Mercedes GLE Sport Utility Vehicle with a big silver bow on it.  He looks at it with surprise and delight as a voiceover says “Mercedes-Benz:  the best or nothing.”

           The best or nothing.  It’s not a bad sentiment, is it?

           But is the “best” way to celebrate Jesus’ birth really buying each other luxury cars?  Or feeling bad because we can’t buy luxury cars and therefore what we give is essentially “nothing,” according to the advertising executives with the Mercedes account.

           The firm that gave us “the best or nothing” as the tag line to a commercial about Christmas.

          

           They were on the right track, those executives.  “The best or nothing” is a good tag line for Christmas.  It needs a little polish, though. 

           How about this:  “Christmas:  Jesus or nothing”?

           Because I’m guessing when each of us wakes up tomorrow morning and looks out into the driveway, there’s not gonna be a Mercedes with a big silver bow.

           And we won’t miss it.

           There will be a savior.  (Not in your driveway, cuz that would be weird.) 

           There will be good news of great joy for all the people. 

          

           The best news ever.  At a time when we really need to hear it.

           So hear it, people of God:

           No matter who you are or where you’ve been, God loves you!

           No matter what’s under your tree, or not under your tree, or in your driveway, God loves you!

           God became human and was born on a night long ago in Bethlehem, to teach us how to love one another and to remind us how much God loves us.

           Our world may be struggling to make room for Jesus, but we don’t have to.  We can make a big space for him, and let him be incarnate in us, just as he was long ago in the City of David.

           Our world is full once again.  Full of empires and threats and inequity. 

           But this night our world is full of hope.  For we are full of love.

"Let It Be with Me"--A Sermon for Year B, Advent IV, Dec. 24, 2017

Sermon for SMHP, Year B, Advent IV, Dec. 24, 2017

Luke 1:46-55

⁴⁶And Mary said, “My soul magnifies the Lord,

⁴⁷and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, ⁴⁸who has looked with favor on the lowliness of the servant.

Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed;

⁴⁹for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is God’s name.

⁵⁰God’s mercy is for those who fear the Lord from generation to generation.

⁵¹God has shown strength with God’s arm; The Lord has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.

⁵²God has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly;

⁵³God has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty.

⁵⁴God has helped God’s servant Israel, in remembrance of God’s mercy,

⁵⁵according to the promise made to our ancestors, to Abraham and Sarah and their descendants forever.”

Luke 1:26-38

                ²⁶In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth,²⁷to a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin’s name was Mary.²⁸And he came to her and said, “Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you.”²⁹But she was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be.³⁰The angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God.³¹And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus.³²He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David.³³He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.”³⁴Mary said to the angel, “How can this be, since I am a virgin?”

                ³⁵The angel said to her, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God.³⁶And now, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son; and this is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren.³⁷For nothing will be impossible with God.”³⁸Then Mary said, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” Then the angel departed from her.

           Every Sunday in December, we have sung those words.  Words which we have sung before this December, to be certain, because that hymn, “The Canticle of the Turning” is a favorite for many here at St. Mark Hope and Peace.

           We’ve been singing that hymn, and we’ve been saying the Magnificat together, and we’ve leaned in to the promise that the world is, indeed, about to turn.  At a time when it is challenging for many of us to believe that God is going to turn the world, away from selfishness and sin and toward love and justice.

           We’re working on believing it, right?  Because believing is what we do.  And because we know that God can turn the world even when the world seems bent on its own destruction.

           We know that God broke into the world at a time when God’s people were despairing, living under oppression, economic injustice, the constant threat of war.  God broke into that world--became incarnate in that world, in order that the world might turn, back toward love of neighbor—all neighbors.  And that world received the greatest prophet, the wisest rabbi, and the kindest humanitarian it has ever known.

           All wrapped up in one person.

           God did that then.  Turned the world through one remarkable child born to two remarkable parents.

           God turned the world!

           And we know that the world will turn again.

           If we have been paying attention, we even know how.

           The world will turn when there are people willing to answer as Mary did:  “let it be with me according to your word.”

           They will be ordinary people—we know that too.  The ones whom God calls to turn the world are not usually kings, or captains of industry, or winners of awards.  God calls people like Mary—a maiden from Nazareth.  And shepherds, and other ordinary folk:  Abraham, Samuel, Esther, Martin Luther, Katie Luther, Dorothy Day.

           God calls people who have been set apart not by wealth, not by power…but by their willingness to say “Here I am” when God calls their names.

           The world will turn—our world will turn, when enough people follow Mary and the shepherds in saying “Here I am” when God calls.

           Refugees need homes and jobs?

           “Here I am.”

           Kid being bullied at school?

           “Here I am.”

           Injustice and inequality running rampant?  The voiceless need someone to speak for them? 

           “Here I am.”

           Bear the likeness of God for all the world?

           “Here. I. am.”

           And that is what do while we wait for God to turn our world.  We don’t wait passively.  Christians are called to be pacifists, not passive(ists).  We wait clothed in the words of Mary, mother of us all:  Let it be with me according to your word. 

           Because the world turns when each of us attends to the change that needs to be made in us. 

           Institutions turn when the people who make up the institution decide to live according to a word of love and justice.

           Neighborhoods turn when individual neighbors decide to work together for the good of all.

           While we wait for our world to turn from a path of destruction back toward the gospel of love and peace, we bear God’s likeness to everyone we meet.  We allow incarnation to live in us.  We provide a living witness to God’s power at work in us, at work in our world, and working slowly in the hearts of those who natter on about keeping Christ in Christmas while striking his witness from every other aspect of life.  We love them too, love them so hard they can’t help but see the power and grace that God has showered on them, that God calls us to shower on each other—including our neighbors who are brown and poor and disabled.  Especially our neighbors who are brown and poor and disabled.

           “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.”  Let that be our mantra…this Adventmas Eve and always.  And let us keep watch, dear friends…for the world is about to turn.

          

"Can I Get a Witness?"--A Sermon for Year B, Advent III, December 17, 2017

I'm going to post sermons here in 2018.  Starting now, since the church year already started.  I will try to remember to do this every week...we shall see...

Sermon for St. Mark Hope and Peace Lutheran Church, Third Sunday of Advent (Gaudete), Dec. 17, 2018

Sermon for SMHP, Year B, Advent III, Dec. 17, 2017

Luke 1:46-55

⁴⁶And Mary said, “My soul magnifies the Lord,

⁴⁷and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, ⁴⁸who has looked with favor on the lowliness of the servant.

Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed;

⁴⁹for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is God’s name.

⁵⁰God’s mercy is for those who fear the Lord from generation to generation.

⁵¹God has shown strength with God’s arm; The Lord has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.

⁵²God has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly;

⁵³God has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty.

⁵⁴God has helped God’s servant Israel, in remembrance of God’s mercy,

⁵⁵according to the promise made to our ancestors, to Abraham and Sarah and their descendants forever.”

John 1:6-8, 19-28

                ⁶There was a man sent from God, whose name was John.⁷He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him.⁸He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light.

                ¹⁹This is the testimony given by John when the Jews sent priests and Levites from Jerusalem to ask him, “Who are you?”²⁰He confessed and did not deny it, but confessed, “I am not the Messiah.”²¹And they asked him, “What then? Are you Elijah?” He said, “I am not.” “Are you the prophet?” He answered, “No.”²²Then they said to him, “Who are you? Let us have an answer for those who sent us. What do you say about yourself?”²³He said, “I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness, ‘Make straight the way of the Lord,’” as the prophet Isaiah said.²⁴Now they had been sent from the Pharisees.²⁵They asked him, “Why then are you baptizing if you are neither the Messiah, nor Elijah, nor the prophet?”²⁶John answered them, “I baptize with water. Among you stands one whom you do not know,²⁷the one who is coming after me; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandal.”²⁸This took place in Bethany across the Jordan where John was baptizing.

[Show The Silence Breakers]

           Time Magazine’s “Person of the Year” for 2017 is not a single person.  Perhaps you’ve seen this.  The “Person of the Year” is “The Silence Breakers,” representatives of the hundreds of women—and persons of all gender identities—who came forward over the past year to say “no more” to sexual abuse, assault, and harassment.

           There are these ones on the cover, including a cropped photo representing one of the thousands of people who came forward in the midst of so much fear that she couldn’t show her face.  And then there are these, again, just a fraction of the women who have ended some of the silence around sexual assault and harassment.

           About them all, Time says this:  "The people who have broken their silence on sexual assault and harassment span all races, all income classes, all occupations and virtually all corners of the globe. Their collective anger has spurred immediate and shocking results. For their influence on 2017, they are TIME’s Person of the Year.”

           “Immediate and shocking results.”  The “shocking” part is probably debatable.  I think a lot of people have been waiting for this reckoning for a long time.  There’s a good chance that half of the people in this sanctuary have been victims of some form of sexual assault or harassment. 

           We’ve been waiting for the reckoning, right?  We’ve been waiting for the world to turn…away from immunity for the powerful persons who use their money or their age or their physical strength to harm the innocent. 

           It’s been a sort of long Advent season for those who have suffered in silence, or in the loneliness of the solitary witness.  Waiting, for people to believe what you’re saying without reservation.  Waiting, for the powerful to be brought down, and the lowly lifted up.  Waiting for the healing to begin.

           And yes, it is clear that we have not yet lived into a Magnificat Time—the rich are doing just fine, thanks…but the Silence Breakers cracked open the door and let in a little light.  When we most needed it.  It was a reminder that a collective, courageous witness can, in fact, turn the world.

           To paraphrase Margaret Mead: indeed, it’s the only thing that ever has.

           During this Advent season, we’ve been listening to Mary’s testimony that God is about to turn the world—testimony found in the passage we read together—The Magnificat—and interpreted in the hymn we sang together—"The Canticle of the Turning.”

           This morning, we add to those powerful testimonies, “the testimony of John.”  John came to testify to the light, he declares, in a gospel written by a different John.  He came to testify to the light, and that was pretty much his whole job.  Testify to the light.  Point…away from himself…and toward Jesus.  As we discussed Wednesday night, that is how you will often find John in iconography:  pointing.

           [Show cover]  The Silence Breakers might well have been channeling John.  Note the similarities:

--They offer their testimony from the wilderness.  Yes, there is a wilderness in Hollywood.  And Washington, DC, and New York City, and everywhere else where the word of truth is minimized and hidden and feared.

--They are called to account for themselves.  They first have to say who they are, before anyone will listen to what they have to say.

--They are speaking a word which the world needs to hear.  Which the world is desperate to hear,

--and they are speaking it on behalf of others.  Their witness is a witness on behalf of the whole broken world.

           There is a reason that the story of Jesus Christ, as told be each of the four evangelists, begins with John the Baptist.  It’s because the story of Jesus is more than the story of Jesus.  Right?

           The good news of Jesus Christ is the story of how God is willing to turn the world, away from sin and selfishness and toward justice and love for all.

           That story doesn’t exist if there aren’t people willing to tell it, people willing to bear witness to a story which will turn the world.

           Without witness, the light of the gospel would be subsumed by the darkness of sin and evil.

           But there is a witness.  “⁶There was a man sent from God, whose name was John.⁷He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him.⁸He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light.”

           There was a man named John, and then there was a man named Peter and a man named Paul and a woman named Mary of Magdala and a young man named Timothy and a monk named Martin and a saint named Teresa.

           There have been so many witnesses, and without them, the gospel would be dead.  Without persons willing to testify to the light, the light would go out.  And the powerful would redecorate their thrones and the world would not be about to turn.

           But there are witnesses!  Amen?  Can I get a witness?

           There are witnesses!  Some of them witness from the wilderness.  They witness from the wilderness because they have been driven there by shame and brokenness.  Or they witness from the wilderness because that is where they choose to be.  Because they happen to like locusts and wild honey, thank you very much.

           Some witness from the halls of power and the fortress tower.  That’s some difficult witness—turning over the stones which hold together institutions at cross purposes to God’s justice.  The ones who witness from those places [show cover]—and some of them are here as well—those ones are literally speaking truth directly to power.

          

           There are many places to stand and testify to the light of the gospel.  The wilderness, the campus, the boardroom.  The cover of Time magazine.

           All we need to figure out is where we will stand.  With whom will we stand.  Will we stand with the poor and marginalized?  Will we stand in the halls of power?  Will we stand with the brokenhearted who desperately need a word of hope?
          We must decide where we shall stand.  And how we shall speak a word of hope, a word of truth, to a hurting world desperate to turn.

          

            

A World Created in Balance--Sermon for Year A, Lent I, St. Mark Hope and Peace

Sermon for SMHP, Year A, Lent 1, March 5, 2017

Genesis 2:15-17, 3:1-7

                ¹⁵The Lord God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to till it and keep it. ¹⁶And the Lord God commanded the man, “You may freely eat of every tree of the garden; ¹⁷but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall die.”

           Now the serpent was more crafty than any other wild animal that the Lord God had made. He said to the woman, “Did God say, ‘You shall not eat from any tree in the garden’?” ²The woman said to the serpent, “We may eat of the fruit of the trees in the garden; ³but God said, ‘You shall not eat of the fruit of the tree that is in the middle of the garden, nor shall you touch it, or you shall die.’“ ⁴But the serpent said to the woman, “You will not die; ⁵for God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.”

                ⁶So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate; and she also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate. ⁷Then the eyes of both were opened, and they knew that they were naked; and they sewed fig leaves together and made loincloths for themselves.

           Lent is a time for renewal. So we’re starting at the beginning.  Genesis, Chapter 2.  So almost the beginning.  In fact, I think it would be helpful to go back a chapter to the very beginning.

           A reading from Genesis, the first chapter:

In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, ²the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters. ³Then God said, ‘Let there be light’; and there was light. ⁴And God saw that the light was good; and God separated the light from the darkness. ⁵God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And there was evening and there was morning, the first day.

           The story of creation is a story of balance.  A story of harmony.

           Light.  Dark.  Day.  Night.  Evening.  Morning.

           As the story goes on, each new day is filled with elements that balance one another:  sky and earth, land and water, creeping things and flying things.

           UNTIL the sixth day, when God created human beings in God’s image.  In the first account of creation—the one in Genesis One—God makes human beings and gives them dominion over the earth. 

           Now, at first, everything seemed okay.  In fact, it was going so well that on the seventh day…

           …God rested.  Which is good, because right after that, all hell broke loose.  Literally.

           There was this moment of balance.  I’m sure you’ve experienced it.  That moment when everything is in harmony.  Everything is flowin’ and groovin’. 

           And then it’s not.

           God made the humans—either all at once or the man first and then a helpmate for the man, depending on which account of creation you are reading and that’s why we are not biblical literalists because you can only be a literalist through Genesis, Chapter One, since Chapter Two offers a different account.

           And also because literalism is a terrible lens for a document of faith.

           But I digress.

           Genesis.  Chapter Two.  God made the humans and gave them the garden and responsibility and dominion over every living thing and God asked just one simple thing:  “Don’t eat that.”

           Enter the serpent.  Who is the serpent, according to tradition?

           The devil.  Which isn’t what the story says but is more or less accurate, since the devil is more of a presence than a little red cartoon man with a pitchfork.

           So the serpent came and convinced the humans to eat of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil and they did…

           …and so much for balance.  Harmony.  It all went away. 

           It went away because the real balance wasn’t between the man and the woman or between the humans and the rest of creation…

           …the real balance was between the humans and…?

           God.

           God ordered creation and created harmony among all living things.  And then God created humans, in God’s image, and God made the first covenant with the humans, in order that we would live in harmony with God.  God gave the humans everything, and in return, the humans agreed not to eat of the fruit of one tree.

           Should have been a pretty easy covenant for the humans to keep, shouldn’t it?

           You get everything.  Except this one thing.  One thing!

           And we couldn’t do it.  Couldn’t not eat the one thing. 

           That was just the beginning, wasn’t it?  Just the beginning of human beings looking at the world which God created with such love and knowing that we have the responsibility to care for that world and deciding that we want to know more than God. We want to take care of ourselves.  Make our own decisions.

           How are we doing?  How’s our balance right now as a species?  How’s our balance with all of the other species?

           Not so good.  God’s beautiful creation is taking a beating.  And we are generally looking the other way.

           The polar ice caps are melting faster than the folks who study climate change predicted.  This will surely be the warmest year on record, topping last year, which beat out the year before.

           All because we have decided that we know more than God.  And science.

           Clearly we are out of balance with creation.

           How’s our balance with one another?  Not so good, is it?

           God created this world and called it good.  Created it so that all creatures would live in harmony with one another.  Gave the humans all that we could possibly want.  Including more free will than is good for us.  And almost immediately, we exercised our free will to do the one thing God said not to do.  The fancy word for that is “concupiscence.”  The word we all know is “sin.”

           During the season of Lent, we are invited to think about our “concupiscence”—all of the ways in which we have turned away from God’s created order and chased after our desires to the detriment of our neighbors.

           During this Lenten season, we will be focusing specifically on justice. 

           What does justice look like?  What’s the symbol of justice?

           Balance.  This Lent, I want to invite you to consider balance, in your own life and in your relationship with the world.  What’s in balance?  What needs work?

           How are we out of balance with our world?  How is our world out of balance?

           We will be exploring these themes as we talk about justice this Lent. 

           God created a beautiful world and called it good.  And it is good.  Let us also live into that goodness.

There Are No Sides in Ferguson

August 22, 2014.  The situation in Ferguson, Missouri this week is complicated.  I read that on Facebook and Twitter and was convinced, though actually going there helped a lot with perspective.  There are many competing narratives about Ferguson, and even firsthand accounts vary.  Real witness is best done up close, though.  We usually see what God is doing in our communities by venturing outside of our church walls and our comfort zones.

God is doing a lot of things in Ferguson, and so too are people.  People are doing good things, bad things, complicated things.

What we do know is this:  On August 9, 2014, Michael Brown was shot by a police officer in Ferguson, Missouri.  It appears that he was shot six times.  He joins an ever-expanding roster of unarmed young black men shot by police officers, and his death exposed a community's pain over the way it is treated by the police.  None of this is open to debate.  It's not a "side."  It is the truth.  Mike Brown was unarmed, and he is dead.  There is pain.  It is being expressed.

There was also looting.  And "rioting," which is a word employed to describe panoply of human behaviors, some of them peaceful and some more detrimental to persons and property.  The looting and "rioting," alongside details released about Brown's behavior before and during his brief time in police custody have provided a neat opportunity to describe this situation in the language of Western modernism.  There are "two sides," to wit:  the lawful side, whose primary symbol is the mostly white law enforcement community,  and the side of those who believe that injustices have been perpetrated (and continue to be perpetrated) in Ferguson.  Standing for the latter is a much more diverse community which includes Mike Brown, peaceful protestors, "rioters" and looters, national activists, and people who express their displeasure with the situation on social media and other outlets. 

People expressing an opinion about Ferguson can expect to answer to the charge that they are "taking sides."  

I was there last night, and here is what I heard:

• Every night, police have opened fire on the protesters with tear gas, rubber bullets, and possibly real bullets.
• Greater St. Mark's Missionary Baptist Church has been functioning as sanctuary space for the protesters, clergy and activists who are witnessing in Ferguson.  The handwritten sign out front says "Safe Space.  No alcohol.  No guns."  People have used the space for rest and respite, and to wash tear gas out of their eyes.  The police learned that the church had been offered as sanctuary, so they began a series of interventions which seem to be aimed at intimidating those inside.  They lined their cars right outside of the gymnasium space occupied by protesters.  They entered and confiscated items, including some Maalox which was being diluted to treat tear gas injuries.  They threatened to remove everyone from the church property.
• Police have chased protesters, hit them with batons and the butts of rifles, shouted at them, and practiced other forms of intimidation.  People who have engaged in a lot of nonviolent civil action have been shocked by the extreme behavior of the police, especially the Ferguson PD (now relieved of duty) and the St. Louis County police.

Here is what I saw:

• A community is hurting and angry.  There are still protesters walking and shouting at the police.  Their behavior may not be helpful, but their frustration should be understandable.
• At least two grass roots organizations have grown out of this continued engagement between protesters and law enforcement.  One is called Clergy United; that group is gathering clergy from the St. Louis Metro, and we were told last night that clergy from beyond the Metro are asking how they might become involved.  The other group is made up largely of young people.  They call themselves the Peacekeepers, and they are doing just that.  Both groups have their names on shirts already.  They are legit.
• Young people are raising their voices in Ferguson, in largely constructive and courageous ways.  Many were marching peacefully last night, at times chanting, "I'm young.  I'm strong.  And I'll keep marching all night long."  Their energy shows no sign of flagging.  
• Clergy are present.  I went to Ferguson with my friend and colleague Jennifer Thomas, because we were invited by the PICO National Network, a faith-based community organizing collaborative.  Both Jennifer and I are active with PICO and our local affiliate, Communities Creating Opportunity.  It was an easy decision.  We are called to stand in broken places and offer a word of grace and healing.
• People are marching because they have to.  I mean that they are compelled to do so by frustration, faith, commitment to social justice.  Also, they are required to do so by the police.  No stopping is allowed.  
• There were a lot of cops.  A lot.  They were clustered in groups of 5-20.  At least a couple dozen clusters.  There were armored vehicles.  The presentation is very combative and intimidating, which would seem to be the point.

So much remains to be done.  So many words of healing and hope are still to be uttered.  There has been precious little dialogue between law enforcement and community leaders, and the brokenness will continue until that happens in a viable and sustainable manner.  This is going to be a long process.  It will be a complicated process, and will require a lot of folks to stand down and give up some of their power in order to engage in real conversation.  There are no sides.  Just brokenness, pain, anger.  So God is there also.