February 14 -- That and More (TransfigurationB)

Some of you know I was a youth director before I went to seminary.  And during my time at Holy Trinity in Thousand Oaks, CA working with the junior high kids, a pastor came to serve that church, who I greatly admired.  He was only there for a short time as an interim.  But we know how even short stays with dynamic leaders can be such a gift (I’m thinking of Pastor Elijah here).  This new pastor was so kind to the people of that congregation.  He was very intentional in all of his conversations; he was very good at connecting people with one another; he visited the sick; he met with the youth kids; and he started up a small group program while he was there.  The church grew during his short time.  I knew this man as a kind and loving pastor, truly a shepherding spirit, caring for God’s people, loving them, feeding them with Holy Communion.  He was just so nice.

But the more I listened to his sermons and read his book, I started to realize that he was something more than just a nice, loving pastor.  This man was a prophet for justice and equality for all.  When he preached, it was like the prophet Amos or Isaiah standing in front of us, crying out on behalf of God for peace in our world and for the end of all oppression.  Like Moses, “Let my people go!”  He called us out on our self-centered, white-privileged ways, that fail to extend the same love that we’ve received to the margins: to the immigrant, the stranger, the outcast and the forgotten.  He even talked about justice for the earth and all the creatures of God!  It was the first time I had ever considered that the United States may just be the new Roman Empire, and he reminded us often about Jesus‘ ministry over and against...actually under...the most powerful nation in the world.  We squirmed uncomfortably in our pews, but something cracked me open and I saw him in a new way.   

God is calling us to be more than just a nice place and nice people that gather for worship once a week, he prophesied.  God is calling us to do more than just offer some charity to the poor, offer some generous handouts, down to those who have less.  All these things are good, but God is calling us, he would preach, to be about radical, systemic change, dreaming and risking it all for the Gospel of Jesus Christ, even if it means our lives.  And then he would kindly greet us with a handshake or a hug, always a nice smile, as we came out of the church at the end of our service.   

This pastor I’m talking about is George Johnson...of blessed memory.   He was my friend, he was nice, he was a gentle pastor...but at one point I suddenly started to see him in a new way too.  He was a fiery prophet calling for justice and change, challenging us to risk our lives and be actual disciples, followers of Jesus, not just safe, comfortable believers in Jesus.

As we look at our text today, and as we’ve been looking at the Gospel of Mark in this cold season, I think it can be easy and even tempting to conclude that Jesus is a just prophet for social justice and change.  That’s because he is.  Just like Pastor George was just a kind, loving guy.

Up to this point — Chapter 9 in Mark — Jesus has turned his world on its head with his love and care for the poor and the outcast, with his casting out the demonic systems and illnesses.  Bringing women and children to the center, touching and healing the ritually unclean, the bleeding, the dead, the foreigner.  I mean, he’s advocating truly universal health, education and equality for everyone.  It’s not a detached, complicated, sanitized spirituality with Jesus in the first 9 chapters of Mark.  He’s not hovering, esoterically; he’s rooted and radical and real.  It’s ministry on the ground, and in the trenches — tangible, immediate and welcoming.  Yes?  I’m always amazed how this social justice of Jesus gets suppressed and even denied, many times by Christians themselves, only seeing him as a spiritual savior of individual souls...rather than an incarnate savior of whole communities, particularly, especially those who are oppressed or overlooked.  Mark 1-9 reeks of Jesus’ radical justice agenda.

But, just like good ol’ Pastor George was more than just a nice, sweet pastor — which he was — there was more…

Jesus is more than just a prophet for social justice and radical welcome of the stranger and the outcast — which he is and always will be.  But there’s more...  

And in our text today, a few of the disciples (and us, by the way) get cracked open, and see Jesus in an even larger way.  

This isn’t about getting someone wrong, and suddenly seeing them in a totally new and different way.  (That happens too.)

But this is about getting a person right, but suddenly seeing them in an even more expansive way.  Setting our mind not just on earthly things but even more, on divine things.  

This prophet Jesus (he was such a prophet that some were mistaking him for John the Baptist and Elijah) — this prophet for social justice and change, was even more than that, friends in Christ:

This prophet was God’s own Son.  “Listen to him, listen to his agenda.”  All this stuff he’s been doing, is more than just earthly revolutionary activist-for-change behavior, upturning traditions and challenging assumptions...

(!) This is divine presence come down to be among us...to be for us, and for everyone.  Jesus is God’s Son.  What a way to end this season after Epiphany and move into Lent — with another Epiphany, a divine revealing:  “This is my Son, the Beloved.”  And then a command: “Listen to him.”  

Transfiguration is the mountain top experience of this time of the church year, before we drop down into Lent this week.  

Know that the one you follow, the one who brings children and women to the center, who heals the sick and the demon-possessed, who welcomes the outsider, even if their religion or their appearance is different...know that the one you follow, who calls and empowers the people of his time — and us — to imitate him in this radical business of  — not just donating — but moving aside and faithfully sharing.  Know that that one you follow isn’t just a human prophet for justice.  He’s even more: he’s God’s own Son.  He’s the salvation of the world.  He’s life eternal for you and for all.  He’s love everlasting.  He’s grace and peace that the world cannot give.  He’s freedom and joy.  He’s hope for the future and thanksgiving for the past.  He’s bread and wine, body and blood poured out for you and for...everyone...even the creatures.  He so loves this whole earth, that he gave his whole self away.  
Know that the one who heals the sick and raises the dead raises you too — right now! — from that which holds you down and hold you back from being the beloved child that God has created you to be.  Know that this prophet Jesus, is forgiveness of all your sins, all your self-centered behavior, all your ignorance and shame, and greed and envy.  GONE.  Jesus is God’s Son, not just a social prophet.  And you are made new today because of it!

Your slate has been wiped clean!  And you are being sent back out there, into this Lenten season, into this coming spring, renewed, hopeful, at peace, and ready to serve, pray, fast, and give (just like Jesus did).  

So let’s listen to him, siblings in Christ.  Let’s listen to him.  Let’s hold out our hands, and open our ears and our minds and our hearts, as we move off the icy and foggy mountain top, and listen.  For God’s own son has got something to say and something to give.  Thanks be to God.  AMEN.

August 2 -- Goin' Fishin' (Pentecost 9A)

Thankful and in our prayers, congregations with whom we've connected in July...

-Lutheran congregations across the Black Hills, SD

-Zion Lutheran in Oregon City, OR
-Klamath Lutheran in Klamath Falls, OR
-Shepherd of the Mountains Lutheran in Jackson, WY
-Grace Lutheran in Omaha, NE

--

Grace and peace to you this day.

3 points I’d like to make, in light of this Gospel text:

1) Disciples wanted to send the crowds away.  But Jesus held them together. 

Disciples wanted to keep it simple and neat, but how “keeping it simple and neat” can breakdown community and attempt to edge out God’s compassion. 

This is a text about God’s compassion, God’s justice…where ALL are fed.  All are clothed, all are housed, all are safe and have security.  This includes those who have to wait in the back of the line — in Jesus’ day women and children, in our day black lives, and any who are unfairly discriminated against because of their status or the color of their skin... 

I’ve been wondering this week, as Congress argues again, what God’s stimulus plan would look like... What would God’s health care coverage and education plan would look like?

If we bring something back from the text for our world today, I think we have to look at how Jesus overflows with compassion: All ate and were fed, and there were 12 baskets left over.

Furthermore on this first point: Jesus calls the disciples to that work.  Can’t help but think of John Lewis’ final words, “marching orders,” repeated throughout his funeral service this week:  keep moving.  “You give them something to eat.”  People are hungry.  People are tired.  People are discriminated against. People are hurting.  You do something about it, keep moving, Jesus says…

2) The disciples didn’t think there was enough.  But Jesus turned that which was offered into more than enough.

You know, I don’t like it when biblical scholars and preachers “explain away” or de-mystify the miracles of Jesus (Jesus walking on water/shore).  Rather than scientific analysis, I’d rather focus on what these stories teach us about Jesus and about us... 

That being said, one explanation that I’ve heard about this miracle of the loaves and fish, which I do like…is that the bit that was offered by someone for whom that was all they had —  5 loaves and 2 fish — was such an inspiration to all, that everyone began to gladly share, and suddenly blessings abound.  Loaves and fish abound, and there are even leftovers!

It’s a common phenomenon in congregations, when it comes to offering and tithing, that often it is those with less income who give a greater percentage, like the little one who offered all he had…entrusting it to God, to be blessed, broken and shared (miraculously, in abundance) with the whole.

That’s what offering is!   

Siblings in Christ — I read some years back that when a congregation calls a pastor, one of the things they’re doing is sending that person to the biblical text each week to “fish” — to fish out a word from God for the people.  “What say you, Preacher?  What can you find, a word from the Lord?  Any fish for us this week?”  Well, in my “fishing” this week, I find this text to be calling us to give and keep giving—not just the fraction that we think we can afford.  We are called us to give all we have to God’s work.   It’s all

God’s anyway, isn’t it? 

Jennifer at SVLC saying a prayer and writing the first check of the month to Synod, the church’s tithe.  Whatever we bring to Jesus, let’s take a deep breath of thanksgiving and say a prayer (like p.)...

And may the 5 loaves and 2 fish not inspire us to share our leftovers [pause].  Let’s let Christ deal with those 12 baskets of leftovers.  May God’s Word invigorate us today to bring all we have, lay it in Christ’s hands so that he may bless it, break it and share it with a hungry and hurting world.

With the abundance, Jesus feeds us too!  ALL ARE FED means you and me – we don’t just empty are pockets and go home hungry and bitter.  In this amazing story, messy-spirit-filled-children-screaming-old-people-dancing-everyone-singing-everyone fed-community-in-Christ is the result!  Amen?   ALL ARE FED, you and me included!

3) The disciples want to send them away, but Jesus even feeds the disciples! 

Jesus forms us all into one body, through sharing.  The disciples don’t think there’s enough, but Jesus makes sure everyone is fed, including them, including us!

Friends, we are fed this day—even if and especially when we’re tired, depressed, lost, confused, lonely, wrapped up in conflict, stressed about money, grieving our losses, losing our hope—Jesus doesn’t send us away empty... 

He sends us away fed! 

That’s what what I fished out for this day.  May God take this bit of fish, bless it, break it and share it.  For Christ is the bread of life.  TBTG.  AMEN. 

July 19 -- From Star Wars to Barn Dances (Pentecost 7A)

Will you pray with me: God of the harvest—give us your patience, give us your peace, give us your word.  Amen.

I love the Star Wars movies.  I love the special effects, the story, the humor, the characters.  I grew up watching them.  I had the action figures.  You could say I was a big fan.  And I still love Star Wars today.

But like many movies, Star Wars makes the good guys and the bad guys very easily distinguishable.  In case you’re not sure, you can tell who’s good and who’s bad by the color of their uniforms and also by what kind of music is playing when they’re on screen.  [sing the famous Darth Vader tune] It’s pretty easy.  And despite an intergalactic stage, the division between good and evil is pretty simple.  The good guys are here, the bad guys are there.  We are not they, and they are not we.  We are of God, they are of the devil.

But the world, in which we live, is not quite that clear cut, is it?  [pause] Reality is not quite as simple as the Star Wars movies.  God’s world is wonderfully messy…but that means it’s messy.

Many theologians and thinkers through the years have offered alternative, more complicated models to this simplified, Star Wars-like worldview.

Is it possible, theologians have wondered, that every person is both good and bad at the very same time?  Is it possible that good resides in the hearts of evil people.  And that evil resides in the hearts of good people?  And so good people and evil people are suddenly much more difficult to distinguish.

Martin Luther of course talked about this, when he spoke of the Christians’ “sinner-saint” status, that is, those who believe and follow Jesus are both sinners and saints.

Isn’t that confusing?  To think that we are each horribly evil, and at the very same time, very good…for indeed we are all exalted creatures of God’s good creating! (In fact, Imago Dei is the name of the Zoom series our Synod is doing right now!)

And to make it more complicated, sometimes it’s even difficult to differentiate which is the sinful part and which is the saint-ful part in our thoughts and actions.  Evil certainly has a way of disguising itself, getting between and around our good deeds, just like weeds around the wheat. I read a book a some years back called The Seven Deadly Virtues, which was all about just how sneaky evil can be.


Biblical scholars tell us that, interestingly, the kinds of weeds that grew in the wheat fields of the ancient Mediterranean require a very skilled eye to tell which is which as they grow.  So that’s what Jesus was talking about.

In this Gospel text, we are left with an elusive question:

Who is the evil one, the devil, or the children of the evil one?  Can we pin point them, the weeds?  Can we at least point to a group of people or a series of events, and say, “Now there, there is evil,” and be done with it?  Or is it more messy?

With issues as weighty as good and evil, we can find ourselves, like the disciples of old wanting simple answers, crying out, “Explain this to us Jesus, so that we can make sure to be on the good side, on your side, and join your quest to rid the world of the evil ones!”

But Christ surprises us again and again.  And in the search to figure out who the weeds and the wheat are for us today, we might just find ourselves led down new paths…

For we hear this morning that it’s not our job to uproot the weeds, it’s not even our job to help, just like it’s not the servants’ job in the parable.
“Do you want us to go and gather the weeds?” the servants ask.  “No,” says the master, “that’s my responsibility.”

It’s ultimately the job of the Great and Mighty…[wait for it] *surprise* Gardener-Farmer to do the weeding.
Christ, the Gardner-Farmer.

One might even imagine a peaceful tone in his voice as he responds to the servants’ urgency and anxiety to destroy the weeds:

“No [calmly],” the Gardener-Farmer says, “do not gather the weeds; for in gathering them you would uproot the wheat as well.  Let both of them grow together until the harvest.”  After all, this is same teacher, earlier in the Gospel of Matthew, who uttered these challenging but grace-filled words: “Judge not, lest ye be judged.”  “Blessed are the peacemakers.”  And — probably the most challenging three words in the entire Bible: “Love your enemies.”

Indeed Matthew is not portraying a teacher who commissions his students to violence and destruction, hunting down and killing weeds, Star Wars-style...or worse.  “No, you leave the weeding to me,” the Gardener-Farmer gently says.

Could it be, siblings in Christ—given our sinner-saint status—that within our very communities and within our very selves we possess the soil where both weeds and wheat might grow?

And with all our worries and fears, with all our temptations and distractions, it’s so easy to get overcome by the weeds.  It’s so easy for the wheat in our hearts, without attention, to be choked out by the weeds of sin that flourish.

The weeds of sin:  self-centeredness, arrogance, apathy, hatred, bitterness, neglect—neglect not only of our neighbors and of the earth, but neglect of our selves, our own bodies. [pause]

The truth is that we can’t do our own weeding.  We need the divine Gardener-Farmer to come and cut back the weeds that grow in our communities and in our hearts.  Good thing Jesus came along.  Good thing Jesus promises to deliver us from evil.  Good thing we continue to follow in the radiance of that promise.  For in trusting, Jesus frees us from the weeds of sin that grow in our hearts.  But that’s not the end of the story!

So often we hear that Jesus liberates us from death, sin and the evil one.  But the Good News is not just about side-stepping sin & death!...
The Good News is that because of this freedom, freedom from death and sin through Christ, we are enabled then to live.  It’s about having LIFE…and we all know that having life is far more glorious than simply not-dying.
It’s about the wheat growing, transforming, and bearing fruit.  In the same way, it’s not just about winning—beating out the bad guys—and then kicking back to gloat.  (Sometimes I think we’re drawn to the graphic imagery of the burning and gnashing of teeth, the fire, destruction, apocalyptic stuff, wipe our brows and say, “Whew, glad that’s not me”…it does sound like a good action movie…it appeals a cultural, insatiable appetite for violence and revenge...even just plain ol’ cut-throat competition: We win, you loose.)  But, no!  There’s more to the parable...

It’s about being alive in Christ!  Such gruesome pictures can distract from what comes next in the text:
*Are you ready?  It’s really exciting. [somewhat sarcastically but seriously]*  Matthew 13:30—The harvester takes the wheat into the barn.  That’s where the parable ends.

But let’s continue the story together.  Can you imagine…
[I’ve always thought that the church suffers — not because of money or not enough pastors or old buildings, but — from a crisis of imagination.]
So let’s imagine what happens next in the parable Jesus tells, let’s add a chapter to the parable (afterall, that would be very biblical):

The harvester of the wheat carries it into the barn, where it undergoes a change, a transformation…and is finally turned into bread to nourish the hungry.  Catch that? — The wheat (with the addition of the right ingredients) becomes bread—it takes on a new form, i.e. new life emerges.  The life we have in Christ, is made new, it takes on a new meaning.  We, as followers of Christ, are taken inside the barn and given special knowledge/ingredients.

There is a separation from the rest of the world, from the field, certainly from the weeds, but what is it that sets us apart, siblings in Christ?  [pause] We are given a glimpse of God’s realm, we get to see what we and the rest of the world have to look forward to!  We get a glimpse of God, a glimpse of grace, a glimpse of divine love, joy, peace.  A glimpse of hope, right smack in the midst of all the ugliness and pain of this world.

And it is in this experience that our lives are transformed.  After all, wheat — which escapes fire — will eventually die out in the field as well.  But the harvester takes the wheat into the barn, where it is transformed, given a new life, a new form, a new purpose.

But that’s not the end of the story either!

Wheat turns to bread, and look what happens when people gather at the table around to eat this new thing, this transformed wheat!  Strangers are welcomed because there’s plenty of good bread to go around, ideas are shared, care is given for those who are going through tough times.  New life emerges again this time in the form of community.   And once the people have eaten the bread, they are strengthened to get up from the table, to go out from the barn where they were sitting together, and to plunge into this messy world with new energy, new hope, planting new wheat fields, inviting more to the table to be fed.  Life, and new life, and new life…this is what “life abundant” means (to borrow from the Gospel of John).

What an powerful and empowering development:  What went into the barn as nothing more than a bundle of wheat, became the center of a party: a barn dance.  What went into the barn as just a bundle of wheat enlivened and strengthened a people for the journey of outreach and service in the world.  Sometimes we need sit together and dance and celebrate inside, right?  And then out we go.  That’s what worship is!

The task of living God’s love is a great one, seeming insurmountable and hopeless at times.  So we continue returning to the barn for sustenance, through communal Word and Sacraments.  And then we leave the barn once again.

We are caught up in a dynamic tension of excitement and patience.  This movement to and from this sacred barn becomes our new life, our new life in Christ.  Fear, hatred, lust after destroying some “enemy” has no place in this new life; the Star Wars-like worldview doesn’t work, for it is the good and gracious Gardener Farmer who does the weeding, not us.

Because of Christ, we are freed from having to pick out the good weeds and the bad weeds in our hearts and in our world...

No, “we just get to do church,” as one of my great mentors Fred Danker (of blessed memory) used to say — dance in the barn, work in the field, back to the barn.
Or as Senator John Lewis (of blessed memory) would say:  We need to “get into trouble, good trouble, necessary trouble”...

We just get to live into our baptismal covenants, live among, serve all people, strive for justice and peace and worship together.   I guarantee that gets us into some “good trouble.”
And so in this vision of the barn dance, moving into and away from the barn, the realm of God is being realized “on earth as it is in heaven,” just as we had prayed for it to be…as we do each week inside the barn.  The realm of heaven is coming into view here on earth...for God’s children are shining like the sun, warming and nurturing the world—the field—with life and hope.  That’s you.

Followers of Jesus: The weeds have been removed, the vision has been offered, and those divine arms are open in  gracious invitation:  “Come,” Jesus says, “join the living.  Dance in the barn, plant in the field, shine like the sun.”  AMEN.

September 23 -- Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost

I want to ask you to do a simple exercise with me:

Clench your fists as tightly as you can.  Squeeze like your hanging on for dear life or squashing a bunch of grapes in the center.  Now hold them there until I say stop…

Now, let go.  Open you hands, relax them…    Try this all again.

— “May the words of my mouth…” — 

Which was easier?  Which do you think you could sustain longer?  Which was more grace-filled?  

Which do you think is more Christ-like?

My heart actually started pounding a little bit with the clenched fists, sweat…

Of course, it’s easier to relax and let your hands be open.

At the core of our text from James is an invitation — in the midst of all the gripping and grasping and clenching in our lives and our world — to relax, trust and hold your hands open.  This is to receive the peace of God, the gentleness of the Spirit, the welcome of the Word, the vulnerability of Christ himself.

— 

James is a “400-level” letter written for an early Christian community, a small congregation. [Explain “400”.]

Obviously conflict has been an issue in that small church.  Disputes have broken out among members of the family.  Competition, gossip, backstabbing, judgmental status seeking, high anxiety...outright hostility even...have ripped into the fabric of that early church community, and so James is addressing these directly and clearly.

And here’s what’s surprising us in Scripture today: 

(A couple weeks ago, Ephesians said that the opposite of drunkenness was singing?  That was Scripture surprising us too: not sober, stoicism, but singing...)

Today, James describes wisdom as gentleness...also not what we would think of.  I’d think of some Harvard Astrophysicist, who’s travelled the world, knows every species of plant and bird, and is now well into her 80‘s.  That’s my definition of wisdom, but James says that the one who is wise is [open hands] gentle.  Nothing to do with age, education, social standing.   The one who is wise is willing to yield, peaceable, full of mercy, no hypocrisy.  That’s where James says there’s “a harvest of righteousness.”  Not grasping and grabbing...but open and welcoming.  Isn’t that a fantastic invitation...and a surprising idea?  In the midst of communal strife in James’ congregation, comes a lesson: wisdom is gentleness.

We live in a cut-throat culture, where wisdom (which we would now call, acc. to James, earthly wisdom) is used to get ahead, even at the expense of others.  But the wisdom from above, as James teaches, the wisdom of another level, is not envious or boastful [clenched fists].  It’s gentleness [open].  

—

Friends in Christ, when you pray, how do you do it?  I mean, we’re thinking about our hands today.  Do you clench your fists, interlocking your fingers?  That’s fine if you do, but just as a spiritual exercise at least today, maybe this next month, try praying with your hands open.  See if that does anything for you.  When you pray with us here at church, or at home at the dinner table.  That might be an interesting experiment.  

Fake it, if it doesn’t feel natural at first...but try to stick with it.  I’ve actually invited people into this practice before and the results can be...like Scripture...surprising.

—

This passage talks about disputes among church people.  Can you imagine that?  ;)  Good thing that’s a thing of the past.  Poor early church.    ;) Those of you who are joining BLC today, we don’t ever have disputes here, right?  ;)

No, there is a timelessness to conflict within God’s church.  Helps us to take a breath and realize, when churches do have issues (not us of course ;), that that’s nothing new.   

And here’s what James shares with us about disputes:  They come from clenching and gripping and grasping so tightly.  James uses words like envy and coveting and “craving after”...but isn’t that just language for what you physically experienced in your body earlier?  Heart racing, sweat, a flexing that simply can’t be sustained — eventually we give up or burn out!  

When it comes to disputes in God’s church, we are called to relax our hands, open and welcome what Christ teaches and elicits from us.

—

I have a giant poster of Planet Earth in my office.  And in the bottom corner I have taped a tiny newspaper picture cut out of the SD Union Tribune.  The woman’s name is Tameka Brown, and she’s obviously standing in a courtroom, wood panels, police officer standing in the background.  I’ve always kept that tiny picture, ever since I heard the story behind it... 

It was a couple years ago in San Diego.  Tameka Brown’s son was shot and killed...in yet another act of downright evil, aggression: “clenching”.  The crime was careless, racially motivated by someone who did not, as James would say, “resist the devil”.  But, Tameka’s son’s murderer was caught.  

And Ms. Brown was given a chance to testify in the courtroom, to speak about her son to the jury, the judge and this young man, all looking at her.  What would you say?  Ms. Brown had a well-prepared statement ready to go.  She was going to talk about her boy, about justice being served, and she would have most definitely put her son’s murderer behind bars.  Evidence all there.

But in the interview, Tameka Brown said that something came over her that morning:  She had literally been clenching onto her prepared statement for days.  But when she was finally called on to testify, she let her statement fall [open] to the side, she went up to the stand, [pause] and began singing “Amazing Grace” to the courtroom.  “I don’t know what came over me,” she said, “but there was no more room in my heart for hate and revenge.”  Then, in a stunning and eloquent display, she turned to the judge and looked at the young man who shot and killed her son and said, “I forgive you.  And I even love you.  Judge, I beg of you, let me take this boy home with me and take care of him.  We all know what prisons do to young men: it won’t make him any better, and it won’t make me or our neighborhoods any better.  I’ve lost my own son, but let him be like a son to me.”  The judge said in an interview, he had never seen anything like this in all his years in the judiciary system.  His eyes welled up with tears. 

Tameka Brown may be the wisest person in the world, according to James...because of her gentleness.  

Friends, Ms. Tameka Brown doesn’t just inspire, her little picture in my office serving as a reminder of mercy:  Tameka Brown gives us a glimpse of God.  

Will you pray with me:  [open hands]

“Ever-gentle God, you are wise.  Thank you for bringing us home and for caring for us.  Fill us now with your wisdom.  Release us from our gripping.  Open our hands to trust, and call us again to service, humility, and peace, in Jesus name.  AMEN.”

August 12 -- Twelfth Sunday After Pentecost

Our wedding day was a day to remember.  June 25, 2000, Thousand Oaks, California.  From start to finish it’s one of those days at the top of my list.  It was a Sunday, and our families and friends had started gathering in and around our hometown a few days before – the bachelor party was on Friday, Saturday was of course the rehearsal and the rehearsal dinner, and Sunday was the big day.  

A wise friend of ours – and I can’t even tell you which one – had suggested we stop and take moments throughout the festivities just to take it all in – really intentionally stop and look around or pause and consider all the love and joy that is present.  I had one such opportunity after the Rehearsal Dinner: the older crowd had all gone home to bed, the younger crowd was out dancing at the restaurant next door to where we had the Rehearsal Dinner, and I had decided to leave that party a little earlier to get some rest.  I had walked back to the hotel by myself and apparently that same weekend at our hotel was a big international Irish folk music convention.   In the lobby of the hotel were all these Irish folk musicians – this is a random hotel North of L.A., not the north coast of Ireland, but there they were, circled up, about 30 of them.  The lobby was filled with this beautiful music, so I sat down right in the middle of it to—as our friend said—take it all in, to consider the all the love that was present.  And it was a foretaste of the joy to come.  That was Saturday, the day before I got married.

Then on Sunday, the wedding was scheduled for the afternoon, and so I went to church with my family in the morning.  And we gathered with the faith community around the Word.  Lots of winks and hugs and “see you laters” that morning I remember.  Such a special time and a centering place for me.  I won’t go on and on with the details of the wedding and reception.  But I can tell you, that in the midst of it all there was such great joy and peace that over came us.  The ceremony was beautiful; it was at California Lutheran University’s chapel, where Heather and I had met.  Mark Knutson was our campus pastor and the pastor that married us, so our 2 pastor dads could wear tuxedos and just be dads.  The words and the toasts were all so touching (and appropriately humorous), the pictures turned out amazing, there was dancing and singing – literally: our friends got up and did a rendition of a Jimmy Buffett song in our honor.  We had negotiated to have the hotel ballroom until 1 in the morning, unlike most contracts, I understand.   And people stayed late into the night, talking, and laughing and dancing.  Heather and I stayed ‘til the very end too!  It was all our closest people at the time gathered in one place!  We couldn’t miss it.  

But you know what I didn’t mention in my recollections here?  The food!  Traditionally, isn’t this one of the greatest food days in so many of our cultures?!  I honestly don’t even remember what I ate for dinner!  I’m sure it tasted great.  And I never even had a slice of wedding cake!  I know I ate.  

But when I look back at it all, I think the real food that sustained me that whole weekend, the real food that filled me was the love and the community and the laughter and the joy that had come to surround and embrace Heather and I, as we made our sacred vows to each other...

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This is my illustration for our Gospel text today.  And my great wedding experience is only a glimpse of the way that God feeds us.  Jesus says, “I am the true bread that comes down from heaven.”  There’s lots to be said of earthly food – and I love it – but when Jesus says he is true bread, we are brought into something much greater than the short-term joy of a good meal or even a wedding feast.  When Jesus offers himself to us as the true bread of life, we are offered a place on the dance floor, a seat in the pew at church surrounded by the faithful, a front row to the swirling melodies of traditional reels and jigs, with fingers and toes tapping along to the rhythm, our bellies full of laughter, our eyes full of tears, our hearts full of joy, and our minds full of peace.  This is what God’s got in store for us.  And it’s offered to us here, in this life, even in this day, at this table!  Christ is present with us, today, offering himself here – in bread, in wine, in water, and in the community of faith and doubt. (reverencing both ways)  

Let us eat of this Bread of Life.  Because it’s so much better than just the bread of lunch or even the fancy breads of dinner.  The Bread of Life gives us the true strength and nourishment and the p-e-a-c-e of God that we need to face our difficult days.  [pause]

Now, we can actually become addicted to earthly bread: to food and other substances, to money, to stuff.  Those earthly breads do comfort us at times, they even give us great joy in the moment...or at least, they numb our pain for a second.  And they’re not all bad.  But all the earthly breads do come up short.  

The real bread, the true bread that comes down from heaven, is God’s Love.  Have you received this bread before?

This is the true bread of forgiveness.  All that you’ve done, all that you’ve failed to do.  Mercy.  ...held out to you this day.

Have you been able to accept this bread before? (dead ritual)

Friends, I want to invite you:  don’t look at the bread and wine that you will receive at this table in a few minutes with earthly lenses.  Everything else we consume, we use our earthly lenses to evaluate it, critique it, quantify it. 

Don’t taste and compare this meal to other breads and wines you’ve tasted before, don’t pay attention to the flavor, with an earthly palette.  Don’t think about digesting with an earthly stomach.  But when you come to this table, you are not receiving earthly bread!  Through faith, through the words of Christ, through this sacred community — you are receiving heavenly bread today!  So see this holy meal with the lenses of faith, taste it with the palette of trust, digest this meal in a body of hope.   

For this is the true bread of justice and compassion!  In a climate of injustice and hatred, Christ is born in quiet, holy ways, in crumbs and sips, and yet fills us to the brim with the ability to open our hearts in care for the stranger, the immigrant and the orphan, the hungry and the sick, and also those we’ve struggled to love and like! – This is the true bread of justice and compassion, and it is offered to you this day.  

This is the true bread of joy and peace.  Calming our anxieties and our cravings for more, bringing a contented smile to our faces and air to our lungs. “Ah,” take it all in, like my wedding weekend.  Joy and peace is offered to you this day, despite all the chaos, all the opposite-of-joy-and-peace swirling around our cities, our nation, our world, our our own hearts — divine joy, peace, the true bread of heaven, Christ himself is for you.

Let us take this bread together.  Let us break it and share it.  Let us eat it in community, with the whole earthly community heavy on our hearts in prayer.  For this is the true bread of heaven that raises us all up on the last day, that draws us to God and therefore to one another and the good earth.  

“Take and eat, this is the body of Christ, 

given for you and for all.”  AMEN.

August 5 -- Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost

There’s an organization that our last congregation, Shepherd of the Valley, back in San Diego supports heartily.  The nonprofit is called Third Avenue Charitable Organization — TACO.  It’s located in the heart of downtown SD, and it’s part of the ministry of First Lutheran Church there on 3^rd Ave.  I’m reminded of their story on this, our second “Bread Day” in John’s Gospel.  (Last week it was the feeding of the 5000, where we talked about abundance vs. scarcity mentality.  How’d that go?)  Today, that same crowd is tailing after Jesus, and he’s inviting them to consider what they really need, beyond just reacting to their growling tummies... 

So I want to tell you a little more about TACO in San Diego:  Perhaps there are stories like this here in the DC area, I just don’t know them yet :)  It was the 1970’s and people were moving out of downtown SD to go live in (and fill up the churches in) the suburbs.  White flight.  First Lutheran downtown was panicking:  “We’re loosing people!  We’re loosing kids!  We’re loosing income!  We’re loosing our church, the way it always was!  Death is pressing in on us!”  So — true story — a few of the members (with some gifts and passions for baking and cooking) got together and decided that they would bake bread.  “We’ll bake bread during lunchtime, during the week...and all the doctors and lawyers and CEOs who work downtown will smell our bread and come eat and join our church!”  Do you think they came running?  

Who do you think did smell the bread and come?  The homeless and working poor of San Diego.  So the church got back together, and prayed about this:  It’s not what they were expecting/wanted (?), but they trusted God might be up to something.  It wasn’t going to yield more members or income for the church, in fact it might even cost the church more.  But they trusted that God might be up to something.  God was showing them something, a sign: hungry people on their doorstep... 

Well, that was the birth of TACO, the beginning of a weekly (and it grew to twice a week) meal event, serving 150-200 hungry people on Mondays and Fridays still to this day.   It’s an amazing organization that has grown from just the Bread Days in the 70’s to also offering medical, dental, legal services, acupuncture, and even an end-of-life hospice care program called “Simon’s Walk”!

All from thinking they wanted one thing, but Christ interrupted their plans and their wants with something else!  God needed something else, which ended up being greater than they ever imagined.

Friends, Christ is always opening our eyes to gifts, needs, possibilities greater than we can imagine.  “No one saw that coming!”  Ever felt like that?  

“But God, look!  [panicky] Look at what’s happening!  We want this for our church, for our families, for our communities.  We know what’s best.”  And Christ smiles lovingly and says, “That’s just your tummy growling...”

Have you ever gone grocery shopping when your tummy’s growling?  Do you make good decisions then?  I don’t make any good decisions when I’m hungry.  (Or in our family, we use the term hangry.)  

Those members of First Lutheran in San Diego, back in the 1970’s initially were hangry — they were panicking, desperate, not even making sense.  And that’s OK, God showed up anyway.  God loved them anyway.  God smiled and gave them a sign…and — what I love about this story — is that they paid attention to it and prayed about it together.  (What if we just got together and prayed, every time we faced some difficult things here?)  First Lutheran trusted God, even in their struggling, tummy-grumbling state.

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How is God showing up anyway for us as a congregation, as Bethlehem “House of Bread” Lutheran Church?  How is Christ messing up our initial plans?  [pause]

How about in your own life — at home and at work?  How are you personally hangry and feeling anxious, like death is pressing in?  

Or in our wider culture and world, how are we getting all desperate and panicky?  Forgetting who’s holding us?

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Friends, Christ is our bread.  And this is not exactly the bread we had in mind!  Remember the Israelites in the wilderness, with the manna comes down from heaven?  Do you know what “manna” means?  It literally means, “What is this?”

Christ is our bread, he offers himself to us freely and in abundance, and we’re like, “What is this?  This is not what I had in mind?”  (It would be fun to hear your stories of ways in your life that God has surprised you:  you had initial plans — thought you should be doing this or going there — but God got in the way, interrupted.)  

How has Christ provided for you, taken you places you never imagined, opened up new opportunities, comforted you when you thought there was no way possible?  ...

...well, one central example takes place right here every Sunday:  Friends in Christ, what we trust about this Holy Meal is that it provides everything we need.  [pause] Do you believe that’s true?

That’s an almost impossible leap of faith in our highly consumerist culture:  “What do you mean some crumbly piece of bread and a drop of wine is all I need?!  That’s crazy talk!”  And yet, this is our confession, the Bread of Life.  In this meal is Christ himself.  In this meal is the forgiveness of our sin, and new life.

It’s absolutely not to say that we don’t need our growling bellies taken care of — we do, and it’s our job to feed and take care of one another — both friends and strangers alike — with earthly bread.  But the bread of heaven: that’s what we can’t provide, that’s what we just have to trust God to provide.  And God does.

All we can do is open our hands to receive it.  Martin Luther’s legendary words, on his deathbed (anyone know?):  “In the end we are all beggars.”  Luther was not a beggar in his earthly life.  He had a great big house, crops, family, education, plenty of food (and beer), lots of friends, music, animals.  But in the end, he prophetically notes, we are all ultimately in need of God’s bread, God’s gracious abundance that comes down from heaven and embraces every single one of us — even you.

Friends, we don’t have to wait for the end of life to open our hands and receive God’s providence, God’s bread, God’s surprises.  Christ interrupts us right now!  It’s right here.  Free for us today.  (Doesn’t matter if it’s a small piece or a large, if it tastes good or tastes terrible, if it’s sour wine or sugary grape juice — it’s not about the physical nature of the bread and wine.  That’s tummy-growling theology! ;)

Friends in Christ, this day God’s bread of life fills you and revives you for serving in God’s hurting world this week.  God’s wine of forgiveness warms you and frees you—you no longer have to carry the burden of guilt and shame.  God’s meal of grace sends us outward to feed others, to house others, to love others, to welcome others...into this place, into this grace.

We are received and nurtured by Christ’s body and blood, and so we receive and nurture this world.  Not what I originally had in mind (like the story of TACO), but that’s our God for us...once again.  

Friends, when you open your hands at this Holy Table, know that you are loved and held in grace, in the name of the True Bread, in Jesus’ name.  AMEN.