March 14 -- Snakes on a Pole (Lent 4B)

 

Deep into Lent are we, and it’s clear that something is coming, as we gather around the images and stories and lessons for today.  Something is being forecast with our readings for today…particularly this strange OT reading about the Israelites in the wilderness...  

There is a cross coming into view, albeit perhaps fuzzy right now:  Through our lessons, particularly our Old Testament readings these past weeks — the covenant and the rainbow of Noah, the promise to Sarah and Abraham, the 10 commandments, now we’re still in the wilderness of our Lenten journey, it might be foggy, might be rainy, but — a cross is starting to come into view.  We’re not there yet.  Today, it’s this strange, gruesome image of a serpent on a pole…

This OT lesson is worth recounting because it is a snapshot of the entire Old Testament pattern… in Bible Study: “God blesses, people mess up, God gets angry, people repent…”  See that here?  They’re in the wilderness – free at last (God blesses) but complaining and tired, they want to go back.
Moses reminds them of the food and how far God has brought them “we hate the food”, we would rather be back there! (people mess up) God gets angry, sends serpents to bite them.

The people cry out for help. Moses petitions God for the people.  God give them the snake on a pole.  And those who look to it are healed. (God blesses)

It is a curious story.  And it’s in our lectionary because of our Gospel reading.  Because Jesus in the Gospel of John makes a reference to it:  “Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Humanity be lifted up.”  Same effect:  Those who look to him are healed.

There is a cross coming into view.  

But let’s stay with the OT story in the wilderness.  Snake’s on a pole.  God getting angry.  I think this story is amazing.  It’s entertaining on one level, in its strangeness.  But I laugh at it mostly because I can totally relate to complaining in the wilderness.  “We hate the food.”  (NRSV: “We detest this miserable food.”)  They of course are referring to manna, the holiest of holy bible food...next to the body and blood of Christ, of course.

Do you ever feel like the Israelites in the wilderness, wanting to go back to the way things used to be?  Sure it wasn’t perfect back then, but at least it was better than this?


If we had a nickel — for every time we heard somebody say (or thought it ourselves): if only we could go back to the way it used to be.  In other words, “We hate the new food.  Why, when I was growing up...”

I laugh when I read this text mostly, I’m afraid, out of discomfort, because it so aptly hits the nail on the head.  “God, why did you bring us to this point?!  We hate it.”
“God why did you bring us to this point in our lives?  WE hate it.  We detest this misery.”

And then all of a sudden…SNAKES!  In a recent poll of “Things We’re Afraid Of,” 36% of Americans list snakes as #1.
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Any chance those snakes are a gift?  Like a sharp tone in your mother or father’s voice – a sharpness you never heard before, and frankly it hurts.  There’s a bite to it.  

Any chance those snakes are a gift?  When we’re longing for the past, we’re not fully in the present because of that?  But as soon as you’ve got a snake slithering toward you, man, you’re right in the moment!   Your head is pulled right out of the clouds of the past, and all your senses are in tact – adrenaline, reflexes all as sharp as your body is possibly able.  You are alive—that’s what adrenaline junkies are all about.  “Never felt more alive, man!” is what they say.

Any chance those snakes were a gift?  God snaps us out of our natural default position to complain (which we often do from the easy chair), to long for something more (especially when we’re relatively safe and wondering “well, how can we get safer”), our natural default position to get nostalgic about the past, to burrow in to what we know…

God snaps us out of that with a bite, a sting, a harsh tone.  And then with adrenaline pumping, sticking us right smack in the present moment…

…Mercy.  Grace.  Healing comes.  Salvation (salvus).

Sometimes we need that jolt to remind us that God is the one who brought us here, God is the one who has never left us.  And God is the one who will bring us to the promised land.  Sometimes we need that jolt, because we forget.  Ever seem like we say the same thing in church, week after week?  Because we forget (people mess up) that God has brought us here, that God is the one who has never left us, that God will bring us to the promised land at last.  

But there’s a cross coming into view.  For Christians, gotta go past the cross to get to the empty tomb.  

Anyone who’s gone through surgery knows that pain comes before the healing.  (By the way, the serpent on the pole, of course, is the medical symbol.)  Those who look to the serpent will be healed.  It’s not an idol.  If the people think that the snake itself (or the cross itself, for that matter) is the cause of the cure, then it becomes an idol.  But if they look to it as a reminder of the mercy and providence and presence of God, then it becomes a holy symbol.  If they look through the bronze serpent, just as we look through the cross of Christ, then it is healing.  In even and especially the most gruesome and strange symbols—a snake on a pole, a bloody cross—God’s love is poured out, and not just for us, but for all, as John 3 tells us:  “God so loved the cosmos.”    

The cross is coming into view!  It gets harder before it gets easier.  In that truth there is grace, there is relief, there is healing.  There is salvation.  

And even here in the wilderness, friends in Christ, Jesus is our rock.  AMEN.

March 7 -- Theological Spring Cleaning (Lent 3B)

Sisters and brothers, siblings and friends in Christ, God is always doing a new thing.  God is always moving us in the direction of change, evolving us toward greater faithfulness, deeper peace, fuller grace.

That’s true in this exciting story as well.  All the Gospels have a story about Jesus in the temple overturning the tables.  But interestingly, this one in the Gospel of John comes right at the beginning of his ministry.  Chapter 2!  Matthew, Mark and Luke all have Jesus driving out the money-changers not until the week before his crucifixion, at the end of his earthly ministry.  It’s part of what fuels the chief priests and scribes’ fire to have him arrested and finally crucified, remember?  But here Jesus does this at the beginning of his 3 year ministry.  What’s happening here?  Did John forget to mention him doing it again a few days before his passion, death and resurrection?  

Whatever conclusion you come to, what is going on here, it’s something different in terms of what this means.  John’s Gospel, as I think I’ve shared before is very different!  

For one thing, Jesus doesn’t show much emotion.  He doesn’t call names — he doesn’t call them “robbers”.  I don’t even think he seems all that angry, like in the other Gospels.  In John, it’s not an indictment on financial corruption, economic inequalities, social injustice.  Jesus just says, “Don’t make this a marketplace.”  In John, it’s always a deeply spiritual matter...which can arrive us at those other issues.  But what’s happening here first is a radical theological spring cleaning and replacement.
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See, the people were used to buying cattle, sheep and doves when they arrived in Jerusalem for the Passover.  That’s what you did as part of the ritual sacrifice, that’s how the people celebrated Passover.  First, they sacrificed by traveling all the way to Jerusalem every year...specifically to the temple, the only place where God was believed to dwell.  And then, when they get there, after walking all those miles, they’d buy an animal to sacrifice.  Like Professor Karoline Lewis said, “You’re not gonna schlep a sheep from Galilee.”  

So everyone was used to seeing this mall of animals, like a farmers market, in the inner walls of the temple.  

And as for the “money changers” — by the way — this very well could have been their livelihood...  I have a friend who used to act out this scene, from the perspective of the money changers:  Jesus knocking over everything: “Man. That’s my dinner tonight, man.  How am I going to feed my family this month.  Who is this guy?” I think his is an interesting commentary on this story in Matthew, Mark and Luke.  That’s a good entry point.  But here in John, Jesus is doing something radically theological (as opposed to political in the other cases).
 

Jesus is throwing out ritual sacrifice.  He is throwing out the idea that you have to buy something to earn God’s favor.  I’d even say, as a Lutheran, he’s throwing out the idea that you have to do something to earn God’s good graces.  Radical theological replacement, you see.  Theological spring cleaning.  Out with old — that is, the old idea that God only lives in the high temple, in the holiest of holies, there in Jerusalem.  Out with the old — that is, the old idea that you have to buy a sheep or a goat or an ox and sacrifice it  in order to get this inaccessible God to notice and bless you (like so many other religions, btw)...  

What’s happening here, already in chapter 2, is that we’re getting to see that God is breaking out, God — i.e. Christ himself — is breaking beyond the walls and the rules of the temple and the tradition.  In fact, Christ himself is the temple now!  There is no one place to go where you can visit God.  God is out there on the road. 

We see again that in John as Jesus just. keeps. moving!  Holiness is everywhere now, not just in temples (or churches).

And because it’s everywhere we’re no longer chained to a checklist of sacrifices and journeys we have to make.  Jesus becomes the temple.  And this temple, that is his body, is nothin’ but love.  Nothing but abundant life and peace and forgiveness and grace!
            Overflowing, all-encompassing holiness.

That’s what we’re offered now.  Here.  Friends in Christ.

When holiness shows up everywhere, when we’re covered by Christ, then we do start to act differently, we do start to see differently, we do start to use our money differently, vote differently, speak differently, serve differently.  We don’t change our ways because there’s some kind of reward at the end!  That’s the old ritual sacrifice transaction:  I’ll give you this, God...so that will will give me that.  

We don’t barter with God!  We already have this reward!

We only respond to God...who through Christ, always acts first in LOVE and generosity.  God always makes the first move, all we can do is respond (great statement of faith!).  Danker: “Jesus did the work, we just get to do church.”

When people are doing cruel things, or when members of the family are clearly burdened — church people, or people that say they’re Christians — it always makes me sad because it’s like they’re reading the Bible but not understanding it.  They’re reading something, and at the same time not seeing/getting/receiving that this God is pouring out love and forgiveness FIRST.  Not after we make some kind of sacrifice or do some kind of ritual or good work to earn this.  
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Dearly departed (regardless of political party) Rep. John Lewis of Georgia:  John Lewis was a Freedom Rider, marched with Dr. King and participated in those famous sit-ins in the Deep South, where he and other African Americans would walk into a diner and just sit quietly, waiting patiently to be served. People would spit on them because they were black, they’d pour hot coffee and syrup on them, call them all kinds of horrible names…

And as John Lewis talked about this and other forms of non-violent resistance he said at the heart of it all was love.  “You have to love your enemies and those who persecute you.”  (I wonder if he was reading Howard Thurman and the Gospel of John too.)

And then he told this story from just a couple years ago, when a former KKK member requested an audience with Lewis because he wanted to apologize.  And with tears in his eyes this now-very-old white man says to the late great John Lewis, “I’m sorry for what I did to you, those many years ago.  My heart was filled with hate.  Not anymore.  Will you accept my apology?”  And John Lewis said, “I accept your apology,” and then reflects calmly in this interview, “See, that’s the power of radical love, the love of Jesus.  It’s the most powerful force in the world, and it has the power to overturn the tables.”
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Friends in Christ, Jesus in the temple, this “cleansing” is breaking us out of old, oppressive, tit-for-tat ways and systems.  And inviting us again — “come and see” — that’s how it begins!  The Holy Spirit is inviting us again down the road of discipleship, down the path of Jesus.  This is a radical theological replacement!  Love not law.  No more burdens or chains.  Freedom is walking the way of compassion and forgiveness.  New life.

This love, grace, mercy and cleansing healing is for you.  It’s right here and now.  Take a deep, Johanine breath today, in this Hallelujah Anyhow Lent: soak it up.  Chew it down, drink it in.  Taste and see that God is great.  Feast on this abundance that Christ offers freely to you today.  The old has been replaced with AGAPE — unconditional love — and so we. have. been. made. new.  Greater faithfulness, deeper peace, fuller grace.  Thanks be to God.  Hallelujah.  AMEN.

February 28 -- Makes & Never Breaks (Lent 2B)

Grace to you and peace from God who makes and never breaks the covenant with us.  AMEN.

I’m looking this morning at our first lesson from Genesis.

Abraham and Sarah are given new names in the covenant that God makes and never breaks with them.

And we too are given new names in the covenant that God makes with us in holy baptism.  Share with the person in the room with you, or if you’re joining with us, share those special names we were given, no titles, no last names – just our naked and blessed first and middle original names.  For many of us that was the name spoken when we were baptized.

God makes a covenant with us.  And there are always two sides to a covenant.  

What is God’s side of the covenant?

God’s side of the covenant: to do the impossible –
giving Abraham and Sarah a child.  (Can you believe it?)
making this insignificant Iraqi couple the mother and father of today’s 3 major world religions.  Muslims, Christians and Jews all share the same ancestors: Abraham and Sarah! (Can you believe it?)
God’s side of the covenant: to do the impossible –
to forgive you all your sins and grant you newness of life.  
At the beginning of our worship every Sunday: we confess and receive this forgiveness of sins.
    (Can you believe it?)
 

Beloved, God’s word never fails.
The promise rests on grace:
by the saving love of Jesus Christ,
the wisdom and power of God,
your sins are forgiven and God remembers them no more.  Journey in the way of Jesus.  Amen.

Siblings in Christ, God always makes the first move.  Yesterday in confirmation: diagramming sentences...

But what about our side of the covenant?  Wrote a song about it..
“take up our cross and follow Jesus.”
-live among God’s faithful people
-hear the Word, celebrate the Meal
-proclaim the good news of God in Christ through word and deed
-serve all people following Jesus’ example
-strive for Justice and peace in all the earth.
“take up our cross and follow Jesus.”

The cross we bear is the one that was streaked across our foreheads in our baptisms, on Ash Wednesday, whenever we touch water...

The key to both sides of the covenant: faith and trust.
God’s faithfulness.  And our trusting in God’s goodness.

With Luther, and for us as Lutherans, faith is a gift…so the key is really accepting faith/trust in God, which God gives us in baptism.

I can’t think of a better image of trusting in God than the image of offering our money…back to God.  Please, please don’t hear this as a fundraising drive.  I could care less about money-raising right now.  This is a deeply spiritual practice to take our income and lift a percentage of it up to God.  The offering was the original point of worship for the ancient Hebrews.  Abraham will learn this as the story in Genesis continues.  Worship is taking the best of what you have, what God has given you, and offering it up.  In his day, it was his best sheep.  In our day, it’s our money.  The offering is a symbol of trust, at the heart of our worship service, right in the middle, between the Word and the Meal.  Because our money is so important to us.  

A little while back I met with a group of pastors and we sat around and simply shared our own giving stories.  Basically, how do we practice offering our money.  

Where did we get our ideas about that.  
And I was inspired and a little shocked, to be honest –

…shocked because the stories I heard about faithful giving did not come off as pious or pompous they came off as inspiring – our bishop talks about how she kept tithing during a season of her life that was the most difficult, financially.  And she can move us to tears as she reflects on how...it was all about trust in God.  

 You too are examples of a people who have accepted the gift of faith, Bethlehem friends!  God gives us faith in our baptism.  It’s not something we have to earn or grow or manage.  It’s just offered freely to us.  And we turn and offer back to God, in so many ways.   

Lent is a time to reflect again on our tithes and offerings.  It’s one of the pillars of Lent: giving praying fasting.

You are examples of a people who have accepted the gift of faith!  Every time you open your hands and receive the bread and wine, you are opening yourselves to God’s guidance in your lives.  And that is inspiring and shocking too.  It is a symbol of that covenant made new in Christ Jesus who promises us forgiveness and ever-presence.

And here’s the thing:  God never breaks that covenant.  We might fall short, but God never breaks the covenant.  We might change, but God never breaks the covenant.  God always keeps God’s promises.  

God always keeps God’s promises.  And here’s the promise God makes to us on our Lenten journeys:  “I will be with you.  As you seek ways to live more faithfully, I will be with you.  As you continue to struggle to be honest about some wrong directions and decisions you’ve made in your life, I will be with you.  As you struggle to offer back to me,” God says, “what I have first given you, I will be with you.  As you struggle to receive this gift of faith, as you struggle to trust, I will be with you.  As you live out, struggle to live out, the covenant I made with you in your baptism, I will be with you.”  

These Lenten days can be very difficult, if we take them seriously, if we take up our crosses and follow.  To the rest of the world these days are just more busy days, routine days, nothing-special days in our lives (oblivious to the fact that all of this is a gift from God — all of this:  the paint on the wall, the raindrop from heaven, the air in my lungs — is a gift from God).  To the rest of the world these days are just more busy days, shaped by the news headlines and the retail sales.  But to us who struggle to follow Christ, to us who gather to be together and recognize that everything is a gift of God, to us who have opened our hands and received the gift of faith, we have a promise.  “Never will I leave you.  Never will that change.” Jesus assures, “Come, pick up your cross, lose your life today…and find it in me forever.”  AMEN.

February 21 -- Hallelujah Anyhow (Lent 1B)

Friends in Christ,

Welcome to an Hallelujah Anyhow Lent!  

“No matter what comes my way, I’ll lift my voice and say, Hallelujah Anyhow!”

Now, I wonder how many of you are loving this Gospel music style?  And how many of you are not...especially during Lent!

I’ve known we were going to do this ever since our worship planning meeting in January.  As we talked about  all the hardships of this year, this pandemic season, this divided nation, this troubled heart…and decided together, let’s sing Hallelujah anyway this time around.  Yeah there’s meaning in refraining from the A-word (or H-word, depneding on how you spell it), but not this time.  We can still mark Lent.

And believe me, my little liturgical heart has been pitter-pattering ever since!  Singing Hallelujah during Lent...much less singing it joyfully and upbeat? We always, bury/fast from the Alleluias during Lent.  
But this year’s different...in so many ways, and we’ve gotta sing out, “My God has never failed me yet so I’m gonna stand my ground…”  

Look at this Gospel text for today:  We jump back to Chapter 1 again, and it starts with the heavens ripping open, the dove descending, Jesus gettin’ baptized, and the original voice (same one we heard last week on the mountain of Transfiguration) — that original voice saying “You are my son, the beloved, with you I am well pleased.”

And then immediately—right after that—no baptismal reception, no cake in the Jordan River narthex, no handshakes and hugs—no, immediately the Spirit drives Jesus out into the wilderness...TO BE TEMPTED BY SATAN!  FOR 40 DAYS!      

Welcome to Lent, right?  We’re now into day 5 of our 2021 40-day Lenten journey.  I don’t know about you, I’d rather ease into Lent.  You giving anything up for Lent?  Taking anything on?  I’d rather kind of try it.  Grace, you know? But look at Jesus: ALL in!  Tempted, wilds, 40 days, no games.  Satan.

Friends in Christ, we’ve got a lot to contend with too.  Our baptismal liturgy isn’t messing around:  

“Do you renounce the devil and all the forces that defy God?  Do you renounce the powers of this world that rebel against God?  Do you renounce the ways of sin that draw you from God?”  

These are the questions at the baptismal font.

We’ve got a lot to contend with, and Mark’s Gospel style is honest about that.  So is our atypical Lenten Gospel Acclamation!   “Through every test and trial, I’ve got the victory.  The enemy has tried his best to make me turn ’round, bring me down…”
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Our Lent this year begins also with the story of Noah and the flood!  Maybe you haven’t thought about it since Sunday school?  It’s a troubling story as an adult: God wanted a re-do on creation.  Everything had gone awry, and so God flooded the planet, save for a very few, but God also said never again would that happen.  God was heartbroken that it did, and God put a rainbow in the sky — a reminder of peace and beauty instead of violence at the last.  

We live on this side of the flood, the rainbow side!  Whenever we talk about Noah and the flood during Lent, you have to think: baptism.  The waters that destroy are also the waters that save!  

Jump back to Mark and Jesus getting baptized, there’s that dove again!  The sky ripping open, but instead of a deluge of destruction, God keeps the covenant, God cares about what happens down here, and on this side of the flood, on the rainbow side, it’s the dove of peace that descends among us.

But that doesn’t make the struggle go away.  In fact, the struggle just begins.  Mark keeps it real!  Jesus is driven immediately into the wilds to be tempted, right away.  And then we hear about John’s arrest on top of that!  And that’s right about the time — right at the moment of temptation and testing, trials and tribunals, right at the moment of arrests and riots, racism and injustice, right at the moment of horror and disease, and despair, right at the moment of bloodshed and even death — that’s right when Jesus shows up among the people and starts proclaiming and preaching the good news — that God has come near.  That’s a soft translation.  The Greek actually says God IS here, now.  Change your ways.   

Temptation and turmoil are still coming our way on this side of flood.   But God is with us anyhow.  Hallelujah?  Through it all, “through every test and trial, [you’ve] got the victory.”  

This is Lent is Markan:  Being baptized, blessed, beloved — we don’t then escape the challenges, the struggles, the pains of this life: no, we’re driven right into them...immediately.  And still we’re gonna sing, “Hallelujah anyhow.”  God’s never failed us yet, so we’re gonna stand our ground.  

Lent this year starts with a making a stand.  Making our stand in the cold waters, as we remember the covenant God made with Noah after the flood, and the covenant that God made with us after the baptismal waters “splish, splash,” crashed down on you and me!  It all starts there, and then immediately the troubles come our way.  OK.

Don’t be surprised.  Don’t be discouraged.  Don’t be afraid.  These things are bound to happen.  

(Speaking of liking or disliking this Gospel musical style Gospel Acclamation — I saw Bono of the band U2 give a great interview, where he talked about Gospel music — “everything is up” vs. the Blues — honest.  Maybe listen to Blues music this Lent too.  Honest.)  

The cross is honest.  Our central symbol, even here at Bethlehem, the place of the manger, the cross comes first.  It’s stark.  Troubles are bound to come our way.  And yet, in the shadow of the cross, we sing together.

Friends in Christ, peace be with you on this side of the flood, the rainbow side.  Peace be with the stands that you make this season.  As you stand for justice, as you stand for those who are hungry and homeless and cold this week through Hypothermia Shelter — so much struggle and pain for so many — peace be with you as you stand your holy ground in the waters of baptism, in the Gospel of God.  The peace that Jesus gives us isn’t a cheap peace, on the surface, it’s down in our bones.

Nothing can shake it.  Not temptations, not heartaches, not ship wrecks, not terror, not even death itself.  

For WE know, that God has the final say, that Christ conquers Satan, that life on this side—on the rainbow side—of the flood, is renewed:  a gift of grace, made new each day in the waters of baptism.  Splash yourself every day of Lent, and give thanks for your baptism.  

And that goodness is ours to share.  Hallelujah?  That goodness, comes from God, and will stay with us through it all.  Amen.

February 17 -- Lighten Up (Ash Wednesday)

Whenever it’s time to pack for a trip, I always pack too much.  I’ll admit it.  That might not be a problem for everyone, but I’ll admit it, I always stuff too much in there.  Rarely do I bring exactly what I need, which, truth be told, is really not much at all.  I drag around with me that extra jacket, an extra pair of pants, or a whole other set of shoes.  And that’s just clothes, I’ll throw in a few extra packs of shampoo or soap.  And when I get home after the trip and unpack, there are things in there I never even touched.  

I’ve dragged too much extra stuff all over Europe and Central America; and I can overburden our family when we’ve traveled in our little Toyota across the country.  I have yet to perfect the art of packing only what I need for the journey.  
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I guess I think I’m afraid I won’t be OK, if I don’t have extra. 
“What if I need it?  Just in case,” I justify.

And then you know the funny thing?  Despite all that extra packing, there’s always something that I really do need, that I don’t have.  

Friends in Christ, welcome to the season of Lent!

Lent is often envisioned as a journey, a 40-day journey, into the wilderness.  (40 days because of Jesus’ 40-day period of temptation in the wilderness—we’ll hear that this coming Sunday.  Also 40 days because of the Israelites 40 years of wandering in the desert.)  

And it all starts today, Ash Wednesday — for those who want to participate.  It’s not for everyone.  In fact, most opt out.  That’s one of the things that I love about Lent actually — as opposed to, say, Christmas, where everyone is caught up in one way or another.  Observing Lent, on the other hand, is much more under cover — especially given this Gospel from Matthew text: we don’t practice Lent out in front of people — sure we do the ashes (and lots of jokes there about how public that is), but really that’s also about our own self — it’s an outward sign of the inward work that’s before us.  As as far as the whole season of Lent goes, we do it quietly, behind closed doors and with no fanfare.  The rest of the world continues as usual, but we mark and travel a Lenten journey.

So how shall we pack, I’ve asked before?  

Lent is a time for letting go of all the extras in our life.  Traditionally Lent observers giving up things, we can fast.  Mother Teresa said, “God cannot fill what is already full.” 

And we are full, aren’t we?  Even in these lean times?  Mother Teresa was right, there’s not much room for God.  

We are “stuffed” in so many ways: Stuffed with food, stuffed with things in our closets and garages, stuffed with ego, stuffed with desires, stuffed with fear, stuffed with worry.  “What if I need it?  Just in case.  But it means so much to me.”  What might you release, what extras might you shave away so that God can fill you?

See, in all our overpacking, the one thing that we do need gets left out...or just squeezed in at the last minute.  I don’t think we leave God out...but...how we can just squeeze God in at the last minute.

The grace, the peace of Christ can just get stuffed into the outside pocket of our lives, like that last-minute pair of socks that I almost forgot.  So then grace and peace, the central gift of Jesus becomes just one more thing that I drag around — dangling, could fall out, can’t enjoy because I’ve got so much other stuff.
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Siblings in Christ, Lent is a time to empty our bags, take stock — and lighten up.  Ever travelled light?  Rick Steves is fond of saying, “No ever gets back from a trip and says, ‘You know, I wish I had carried more stuff.’”  The gift of Lent is in the lightening up, the clearing out, the cutting back, the fasting.  It’s in the giving up, in the quieting down, and the opening of our hands in prayer and our ears in attentiveness.  Theologian Paul Tillich said, “We are most powerful, not when we possess, but when we wait.”  

How will you keep Lent?  I hope you do.  

If you choose to give something up or take something on (like walking or gardening or meditating), do it because it will ultimately clear some space for God’s full grace and deep peace in your life.  If your Lenten discipline becomes just one more thing on your to-do list, then it’s already become just one more item you’re stuffing in your luggage.

Somehow Lent and its disciplines got to be burdensome…all about gloom and doom, more weight on our shoulders, when Lent is, in fact, the Old English word for “springtime”!  

Are the trees in my back yard all about gloom and doom because they have no leaves right now?  Or are they incredible because, if I look closer, I can spot the tiny brown buds on every little branch,  they’re not dead and depressing, but rather something is happening beneath the surface!  That’s Lent!    

Lent is a gift.  Packing light is a gift.  Clearing out is a gift.  It means there’s room being made for something to happen — for God’s ever-present grace and peace to move in and take over our lives in Christ Jesus.  

But first, we have to get honest.  It comes not when we’re proud and bloated and too busy to let go.  We have to be honest — that’s what the ashes are all about. 

It’s hard to be honest: “We almost have to woo humility during Lent.”  Honesty can be like a skiddish deer at the brook: you have to be patient and still before our humility tiptoes out.  The ashes are a little like bait, as they scratch across our foreheads, the humility, our honesty before God can creep into the light.  Oh yeah, I am self-centered, I am neglectful of my relationships and of care for my own body, and of care for God’s planet.  Oh yeah, I have fallen short at trusting Jesus, at letting go of my many treasures... [pause]  This is our confession.  Step one of the Lenten journey: Ash Wednesday.  Gotta remember, before we heal.  Gotta be honest.  Ash Wednesday, we get our bodies into it: kneel, feel the ashes, hear the words “remember that your are dust,”  see that cross in the mirror...and also smell the oil of healing.

       Christ abides with us into this journey.
Christ awaits our unpacking, and guides us into the springtime.  So we follow, and as we go, we go lighter.  
Amen.

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.

April 5 -- Palm Sunday

Grace to you and peace from Jesus — who enters through our gates in peace, who comes into our cities...and into our homes, who makes our living rooms and kitchens and bedrooms a sanctuary, a place of peace and holiness.  Amen.

Friends in Christ, I continue to find myself thinking and saying “now more than ever”...as these unprecedented, uncharted, unnerving days roll by, and as we prepare for the days ahead:  “Now more than ever.”

Now more than ever, we are sharing in a collective, communal gratitude and grief:
Gratitude for all the blessings that sometimes maybe we once took for granted.  Blessings of family and friends..  The blessings of art and music, entertainment and comedians.  The blessings of science...and technology.  The blessings of nature, and all the beauty outside...wherever we live.  Now more than ever.  The blessings of food and farmers who grow our food, and truck drivers who deliver our food, the blessings of cooks and grocery clerks.  The blessings of mail deliverers.  The blessings of teachers, who educate our children.  The blessings of health and blessings of health care professionals...the list really could go on and on.  Anyone keeping a gratitude journal during this time?  Now more than ever.

And, now more than ever we are sharing in a collective, communal grief (OK to hold gratitude and grief together, not one or the other):  for all that’s been lost:  all that’s been cancelled, all the trips and events, all the sports and theatre, graduations ceremonies and concerts and vacations and on-site learning opportunities.  Just dinners with friends and family.  This list could go on and on too.  Now more than ever.

And here we are today, at the beginning of Holy Week, the highest, most holy and theologically central days in our Christian year and faith.  And here we all are at home: I think there’s grief and gratitude there too...

I don’t think I need to spell out the sad stuff of not being together at the church building, but one of the gratitudes, is the chance to PONDER the story of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem today...and his Last Supper, his command that we love one another, his trial, torture, death, burial and finally his resurrection.  Perhaps we can ponder these...now more than ever.  Perhaps we can pray and study and think….NMTE.

I spent some time early this morning looking at arial footage on YouTube of the ancient road from Jericho to Jerusalem, which goes right through Bethphage, past the Mount of Olives, down into the Kidron Valley and then finally up into the city gates of Jerusalem.  [Posted.]  And I found myself pondering—unlike previous years, honestly—the dry, desert dangers, especially this last leg of Jesus journey from Galilee, the road from Jericho to Jerusalem.  I’ve never been there, but I felt like I went this morning...technological blessings, right?

The relief Jesus and his disciples must have felt when they got to that room in Bethphage: a cool shelter and a place to rest, after being exposed to the harsh elements all day.  Thirsty just watching.  I found myself pondering Jesus looking out over Jerusalem from the Mount of Olives, before descending into the Kidron Valley and up to the city walls, knowing what was coming for him in just a few days.

I spent some time this week, even pondering donkeys (Jesus rides in on a donkey)!  Here’s what I learned about donkeys: They’re not dumb, as they’re often described popularly.  Mules are stubborn, as the saying goes, but their stubbornness is all in an effort to protect… themselves and their families, their colts.  They’ve been used as pack animals and even for riding for the more treacherous trails, like at the Grand Canyon, because they’re trustworthy to make better decisions than even horses about keeping you and your things safe.  That’s the stubbornness!  It’s about safety…(or salvation?)  

And did you know this about donkeys?!  Once they’ve bonded to a herd of sheep or cattle or goats or even people, during they night they will bray out a warning to the herd when the donkey senses danger, and then the donkey will even chase down and trample the threat.  They are fierce!  (Shrek :)

OK,  I hope these extra colors to the story I’m offering, add a little more to your pondering this Holy Week.  

—
It’s like this unprecedented time that we’re in is a chance for each of us to climb up, into our own isolated tower.  And here, we could keep the curtains shut...or we could ponder, we could let the light stream in and gaze at the great, colorful landscape, see a far greater view than that view we normally see from down in the midst of our busy streets and stores and schools.  I’m not trying to do a silver lining thing.  It’s just a fact, we’re isolated, towered up, right now, and we’ve got an opportunity to “ponder out the window” at the diverse vista — to see, to take in all the gratitude and all the grief.  ‘Overwhelming’ is the word I keep hearing/using these days.

—
And here’s what Jesus offers this Palm Sunday, as we look out:
Presence - he comes through our gates, meets you in your moment.  Did you get that?  Jesus comes to you—not the other way around.  Jesus shows up where you are.  Christ traverses the harsh, dangerous roads to come alongside you.  Now more than ever.
Humility - he takes the form of a janitor, someone who cleans the bathroom, exposing himself to germs, and doesn’t get paid enough.  Read Philippians again.
Gentleness - in a season where many are not gentle:  words are cruel, actions are selfish.  People grabbing for themselves.  Hoarding.   Rushing to beat everyone else out and to the last ...whatever...on the shelf or on Amazon, Jesus rides into town on a donkey.  And offers gentleness.  Last year, I got a lot more into this as I contrasted Jesus and Divine Peace with Pilate and the Peace of Rome, which of course wasn’t peace at all: it was peace through force and military intimidation.  Bullying on a geo-political scale.  But Jesus offers us God’s peace, gentleness.  And rest.  Now more than ever.
And finally friends in Christ, and a the heart, Jesus offers us salvation.  The people cried out Hosanna, “Lord, save us.”  I don’t think, Hosanna has ever shouldered more meaning and timeliness, NMTE.  Jesus, save us, from the oppression and pain under which we find ourselves.  Save us from the fear and the sickness and the fatigue and the isolation.  Save us, Lord.  Come to our aid!
And, friends — I don’t offer this lightly —
Christ. Does. Save. Us.

That’s what this Holy Week journey, this journey to the cross, this pondering, is all about.  Christ does save us.  Jesus answers our ‘hosannas’.  It might not be what we expected...
...and we have an opportunity this week to ponder from the vista, to take the long overwhelming view, to see and hold it all together.  The pain and the promise.  The horror and the hope.  The loss and the life abundant that is ours, even today.
Jesus meets you now.  Christ embraces you, even when no one else can.  And saves us and this whole world, in love, in peace.  Now more than ever.   Amen.

March 29 -- Fifth Sunday in Lent

Grace to you and peace from Jesus Christ, who raises the dead. Amen.

What strikes me about this text this time around — we’ve seen this before and there’s so much here — but what strikes me now, is that Jesus says, “I am the resurrection and the life” not at the end, after Lazarus is all raised and showered and fresh and alive, but when death is stinking and things are at their worst.  

There’s a scene right at the beginning of the next chapter where Jesus is actually sitting at a banquet table with Lazarus and Mary and Martha.  Everyone’s together, food is being served, wine is being poured.  You can easily imagine the good smells and the hearty laughter at the table one chapter past this point.  But that’s not where Jesus says, “I am the resurrection and the life...everyone who lives in me will never die.”  Jesus says this, at exactly the moment when Lazarus is stone cold dead, 4-stinkin’-days-dead in the tomb, when Martha comes at him in bitterness and blame: “Lord, if you had been here my brother would not have died.”  (And of course, beneath the anger is always sadness and fear.)  

Friends in Christ, Jesus isn’t just with us in the banquet times — the parties, and the family feasts, and the full sanctuaries — Jesus is with us through it all.  Jesus doesn’t say “I am the resurrection and the life” at the sun-shiny glorious end: he says it right smack in the cloudy-cold-muddy middle.

And we’re in the middle now.  In the cloudy-cold-muddy middle.  Deep in the muddy valley.  Shadows and fears all around.  Slogging through our days.  Anxious and angry.  Sad and afraid.    

We’re right smack in the middle of it, these days.  In this unprecedented season of Lent, this quarantine, this Covid-19 nightmare.  We’ll never forget this time.  But, friends, we have a God who is here with us, in it.

—

And this God, this one Jesus Christ does several things with us, in the cloudy-cold-muddy middle: First of all, Jesus weeps.  

What is that about?!  Especially in the Gospel of John!?  

If you’ve been listening to my interpretations of John’s Gospel over the months, I continually find Jesus to be completely in control, cool and calm.  He loves everyone, but I haven’t seen him lose it before.  After all, Jesus is all divine.  There’s no question about that, according to John.  All these signs, all these miracles (last week: blind man...feeding 5000, walks on water) all these signs all point to his divinity.   

So what’s he cryin’ about!?  He has the power to raise Lazarus! 

If any of us had the power to raise the dead, if I had the power to raise the dead, I’d show up to your house after the  death of your loved one, and I’d be like, “Step aside everyone!  Check this out!”  I don’t think tears would be my issue.  If we had dead-raising powers, we might be serious and stoic, maybe for dramatic effect, but we’d know we had a miracle up our sleeve.  I’m being trite.  Here’s my point:

Jesus, on the other hand, weeps!  Ponder that this week, this long season of quarantine.  I think one could write a doctoral dissertation on this shortest verse in all of Scripture, especially because it’s John’s Gospel, where Jesus is all in control and calm.  I don’t have the answer as to what that’s all about, but I will say:  Jesus weeping points to Divinity also.  

This is not counted as one of the 7 signs, but I think it should be: What kind of a God cries?!  

Ours does.  Tears say, “I’m with you.”  Ever been with a friend when you were really hurting, who didn’t have an answer or any wise words, but just started crying with you?  I’ve never felt so heard, so understood, so accompanied, so embraced.  

Did you see these clips of Hoda on the “TODAY Show”?  Always so professional, so scripted and in control.  This week...after talking with Drew Brees how kindness is also contagious and both saying “We love you” to each other...she just lost it.

And that’s just a tiny glimpse of our God, who so deeply and completely hears, understands, accompanies and loves us.  Maybe that’s what those tears were about...

Christ is here, right smack in the middle of our pain, of our sorrow, of our fear, of our losses, of our anxieties and of our tears.  All this happens — not after the raising and unbinding — but before it, when things really, literally stink!  God is there, present, loving, weeping.  Never felt so embraced.

—

And then, the final sign — the raising of Lazarus is the final sign of the Gospel of John.  The whole second half of the book of John is the Passion narrative.  So this is it, and what a finale this is to (what’s been called) the Book of Signs, the first half of John’s Gospel!

Hearken back to the first sign, when Jesus turned the water to wine back in Chapter 2 of John:  Mary, who was there then and is here at the tomb of Lazarus as well (and will be at the cross), said back at the wedding, “Do whatever he tells you.”  Do you remember that?  She said this to the servants:  “Do whatever he tells you.”  

As Jesus’ seven signs unfold through John’s narrative, Jesus is always giving a command, telling his “sheep” to do something:

whether it’s “fill the jars with water,” or “take up your mat and walk,” or “gather whatever food is left over,” “go wash in the pool of Sent”...and today, “Lazarus, come out!...Unbind him and let him go!”  

Let’s heed Mary’s advice: “Do whatever Jesus tells you.”  Why?  Because when we do what Jesus tells us to do, good things happen…that is, God’s glory is revealed.  When we listen, when we trust, then we see and walk and eat and rise from the dead...and finally understand.

We’re all sheep of the Good Shepherd, remember?  And sometimes we go astray.  And God’s gonna love us and forgive us even when we fail miserably at listening, trusting, seeing and understanding Jesus (that’s the trust of Luke’s Gospel: God’s gonna hold us no matter what)…

But our life becomes abundant when we follow Mary’s advice, and “do whatever Christ tells us to do.”  Today:  Come out!

— 

Not only has Jesus given sight to the blind, health to the sick, food to the hungry, and brought a crazy-good party to the wedding feast in Cana...and to all our feasts and party days over the years, right?!  (In these isolating days, I hope you’re doing some good reflecting and giving thanks for all the blessings of family and community during these days when we’re cut off from that.  I’m going through a lot of pictures and videos of good times.)  Not only has Christ done all this, given us all this, he even raises the dead!

He even brings us through our valleys, through our losses, through our pain, definitely through our tears, through death itself, and gives us life, and life abundant...not just ventilator life, but family and friends and laughter and banquet tables.

This life is ours even now, even in the mud — not just at the Great Feast That is To Come — this “resurrection and life” is ours right now, right smack in the middle.  Right here in our valley of the shadow of death, the Shepherd is with us.  

Now that’s something worth celebrating!  That’s not just a silver lining:  That’s the center.  That’s the center of our gathering.  That’s the center of our faith.  That’s the center of our hope.  That’s the rock in a weary land.  That’s the cross.  

This life abundant, this abiding Jesus, this raising of the dead, this coming out, this rock in a weary land is yours today, 

and through this valley.

and always.

Thanks be to God.  Amen.

March 22 -- Fourth Sunday in Lent

So many ways to go here!  We’ve just eaten a banquet of grace-filled, Gospel words...not a Grubhub fast-food leave-it-on-your-doorstep delivery, but our Bible readings this and every Sunday are like a long dining hall table of every kind of food, and family of all generations and from all over the world gathered around, and we pray and feast).  But I’d like to focus on that pool where Jesus tells the blind man to wash: what that meant then, and how this speaks to each of us today.
—
First, Jesus puts mud in his eyes.  I know I’ve spoken before about that great toast that I grew up with: before clinking glasses,  “Here’s mud in your eye!”  That comes from this passage.  “Here’s to seeing things in a new and healthy way!” First Jesus puts mud in his eyes, and then he tells him to go wash off that mud...

This is the 6th sign of Jesus in the Gospel of John.  The 1st you  might remember (anyone know?) is the water-to-wine.  Next Jesus heals the royal official’s son, he heals the paralytic, he feeds the 5000, walks on water.  Then the blind man today.  Then Lazarus.)  All signs point to Jesus’ divinity.
7 signs all together in John.  And it’s no coincidence that there are also 7 days of creation, way back in Genesis.  Jesus is re-creating, re-newing, re-defining, re-freshing the whole creation in these 7 signs.  So, hear these stories and wonders of Jesus in a cosmic, universal context.  They’re always about/symbolizing much more than just one person being healed (or even 5000 being fed) a long time ago...

So today is the 6th sign, right here in the mud of “quarantine”, 40 days, Lent.  Jesus puts mud in the blind man’s eyes and then tells him to “Go wash in the Pool of Siloam (which means Sent).” Go wash in the Sending Waters.

So what does it mean to wash in the Pool of Sent?  In the Sending Bath?  Sounds like a baptismal font to me!  ;)
—
[page/scroll through your worship folder]
See the sections in the box G-W-M-S?
What’s the longest section?  Trick question: Sending...

So again, what does it mean to be washed in the Sending Waters?  In the Pool of Sent (or Siloam)?

The once-blind man’s story gives us some ideas to instruct us for the “longest part of the worship service”:

First of all, being washed in the Sending waters means being healed!  Christ heals us too!  What are your “blind spots”?  Think about that this week.  And know that Jesus puts mud in our eyes too and sends us also past the Sent Pool and out into our lives anew, re-freshed, re-created, re-defined, re-visioning!  Our gathering, even like this, even virtually, around the scripture — ancient words and prayers of Christians who have been backed into corners before — Christ is the mud in our eyes, and then as we pass by those holy waters on the way out  (why we have the font at the back) we have been made new!  Being washed means that we are healed, sisters and brothers, friends in Christ!  We are forgiven and cleaned!

Being washed in “Sent” also means being honest.  “All I know is that once I was blind but now I see.”  Here’s what I know.  Pay attention to your experience.  I feel like 9x out of 10 when a person changes their mind about something (maybe this has happened to you?), it’s not because of a new doctrine that got rammed down their throat; it’s because of an experience:

*All I know is that once I never really cared that deeply for protecting the environment, for example, but then I spent a week in the Rockies hiking and camping…
*All I know is that I was taught that gay people were bad, but then I worked next to Larry…one of the kindest people I know.
*All I know is that I always thought Christians were judgmental and insular and even cruel, and then I came to Bethlehem…

The blind man reminds us to pay attention, and be honest about our experiences, how they affect us, and how they change us.  We could remain unchanged, even with our sight restored… [pause]  But not the blind man: “All I know is that once I was blind, but now I can see.”  For the blind man, everything changes after his sight is restored.

Being washed in the Sending waters also means facing opposition and even aggression calmly.  Did you see how he did that.  He just stuck to his truth calmly, even while the inevitable opposition came on strong.  This breaks with the way it’s “supposed to be,” you see.  The blind man stays calm —and we see — faithful.  He’s not swayed by the fire and fury, the violence of the opposition.

I think that can be so instructive for us these days amid a global pandemic.  Staying calm.  Staying faithful.  Not being swept up in the fire and fury.  Here’s what I know: God is good.  Christ showers us with grace, with new ways of looking at things, with creativity as our vision is radically adjusted, and that the Holy Spirit binds us together and sends us to be hope and joy and peace and grace for one another and for this world...even if we’re doing that from quarantine, from the complicated isolation of this unprecedented, 40-day Lent.

Finally, being washed in Sent means worshipping Jesus...even while others don’t believe or “see”.  Vs. 38:  “He said, ‘Lord, I believe.’ And he worshiped him.”

On this Fourth Sunday in Lent we too fall down and worship Jesus.  We entrust ourselves to Christ’s mud touch and care and transformative healing and restoration once again.

We give thanks for all that God has done for us — we show that thanksgiving in our tithing and our offerings, and our songs of praise.  ‘Worship’ means worthy.  What is worthy of our sacrifice?  That’s the true object of our worship.  People make sacrifices and put their trust — i.e. people worship — all kinds of things.  The blind man worships Jesus…who loves us, whether we fall down, worship and recognize him or not.
Whether we see it or not.  (Sing with children, “Jesus loves me when I’m good...Jesus loves me when I’m bad…”)

But friends, that gift of new vision is ours this day.  This pool is right over there…We are bathed in those ever-flowing waters of the “Sending”.  And in that, is the peace that passes all human understanding.

That peace is ours this day, and always, in Jesus’ name.  Amen.

March 15 -- Third Sunday in Lent (virtual church)

Thoughts before worship:

Friends in Christ, grace to you and peace.

Welcome to Bethlehem — 

like the old children’s song: 

"I am the church! You are the church! We are the church together! All who follow Jesus, all around the world!  Yes, we're the church together!

"The church is not a building; the church is not a steeple;
the church is not a resting place; the church is a people."

What a strange, eerie, surreal, anxiety-inducing season this is, that the most loving thing we could do is stay away from each other, call regular gatherings of God’s people off, and stay home.

None of us thought last Sunday was our last worship together in body for some time, but here we are, and we’re all feeling our way through this…

But we are not cancelling worship.  

Still we worship, still we gather albeit not in the way and under the circumstances we ever wanted — moment to find our bulletin, find a Bible…and a bowl of water.

Offer some reflections on our faith tradition as we begin (and as you search for the bulletin at BLCLife.org)…

Friends, God promises never to leave us — Lo, I am with you always, Jesus says. 

Rome: Early Church sneaking around giving, helping and worshiping...maybe this is the new “underground” worship? 

Early Christians believed that the world was literally going to end any minute now.  Despite that, Paul and countless others urged kindness, humility, gentleness, hard work and trust in God...all in response to God's first loving us!  When everyone else was hoarding and obsessed with defending only themselves, Christians were sneaking around sharing bread and caring for the sick. 

In Martin Luther's 16th century "Treatise on The Plague," he wrote about taking care of both our neighbors and ourselves.  He allegedly proclaimed: "Even if I knew the world would end tomorrow, I'd still plant my apple tree today."  That's a resurrection statement.  What's our "resurrection statement" even in these Lenten days? 

In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus told his disciples to be "wise as serpents" (10:16).  Read, study, pray, work and strive for wisdom.  Or in the words of the prophet Micah: "Do justice, love mercy and walk shrewdly with our God" (6:8).  Taking precaution and doing self-care is faithful too.     

Jesus also talked about caring for "the least of these" (Matthew 25:30).  Those on the margins will be affected the most.

Finally, the Bible says 67 times, "Do not be afraid."  Even amid terror and violence, even amid disease, persecution and despair.  We faithfully embrace this strong word again.

Let’s begin.  Using the same service.  But perhaps the ancient words hit us differently, given our current situation.

Prayers of Intercession, were adapted from our friends at Faith Lutheran in Arlington and from the ELCA website.

Sermon:

“Come and see the One who knows everything about me...and loves me anyway.”  

Last week, we heard from John’s Gospel of the conversation with a man under the cover of deep darkness, and of the grace that those moments can offer.  Today, we hear of a conversation with Jesus at the polar opposite time of day: at noon.  The sun is the highest and the hottest.  The light is the greatest.  

Last week, Jesus met a man at the center of power, at the center of temple life in the ancient Jewish world, a Pharisee, a man with a name: Nicodemus...and by night.  Today, Jesus meets a woman on the edge, on the fringe, a Samaritan, who doesn’t even worship at the temple in Jerusalem.  And her name is not even mentioned...and this is by day.

It’s a wonderful and very stark contrast from last week’s Gospel to this week’s.  Christ is in both places...and all places.  And always “staying” (abiding)!  

Honesty is a powerful theme in these Chapters 3 & 4 of John.  Jesus’ conversation today with the Samaritan woman draws us right into this theme and others: honesty, changing of ways, even beliefs, place of worship, letting go and moving out...

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The woman at the well has, for years, been assumed to be a prostitute or a harlot, even as we have no concrete evidence that this is the case.  Some have assumed that since she has had 5 husbands, that it must be her fault and she gets around.  But in recent years, many scholars and theologians have wondered and asserted differently.  Maybe she’s lost 5 husbands, to disease or war.  Or, in that day in age, a man could permissibly divorce and literally throw his wife out for just about any reason...often for not bearing children.  

And being cast out, especially again and again, made a woman ritually unclean to the whole community.  One scholar was even so bold as to state: “Jesus is not slut-shaming this woman, so let’s not ever understand this passage in that way again.  She doesn’t disgust us; she inspires us with her witness in bringing her whole community out to meet this Jesus.”  

...but it starts with her being an outcast.  That’s why she’s at the well by herself, at the least favorable time of day.  If we had to draw water from wells in the Middle East, we’d probably all want to go in the morning or the evening when it was cooler.  She’s been cast out of the comfortable times and circles of people.  She’s been relegated to noon-time.

And this woman was hurting.  No question.  She could have been grieving, she could have been physically battered and bruised.  And even if promiscuity or a certain sexual recklessness was part of her story — which many of us can relate to today, that is, being careless and hurtful to our own bodies and others) — even if it was that, well, she no doubt had a painful story.  And she no doubt was living afraid.

She was “at the edge”.  A nameless woman, a Samaritan, and divorced and chewed up -- the imagery of “other” couldn’t be more blunt for the first hearers of John’s Gospel.  It always helps, when we’re talking about Samaritans, to think of who your Samaritan is today...in other words who makes your blood boil -- who is it that you can’t stomach…

it’s always helpful when we talk about Samaritans to draw our own lines, honestly (and deeply personally), and remember that Jesus is always there on the other side too, on the other side of the divisions that we make among ourselves...talking with the 5x-divorced, Samaritan woman.  

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And the site of this extra-ordinary meeting is this ancient well, Jacob’s well, a place still supplying water, just as it did centuries ago for Jacob and his flocks!  Since the 4^th century this has been one of the KEY baptismal texts for Christians.  Many baptismal fonts in Europe and the Middle East, Northern Africa (and in some of our churches too) are designed to resemble a well.  There is still water coming from the well: this is the place where Jesus meets us.  There is still water coming from the well.

Jesus reaches out to this woman—and to all who are on the outside and hurting, all whose histories are messy and painful—and Christ offers healing, peace, truth and love.

“Come and see the One who knows everything about me...and loves me anyway!” she proclaims.

Just as there is grace in the darkness—as we were reminded last week—there is incredible grace and hope in bringing things to light...in bringing our stuff out into the open before Christ.  

It starts in the dark, down deep in the soil, as the Spirit nudges us and stirs us, to be honest, and what a catharsis when it comes out.  Growth happens.  A new chapter begins — letting go of the past, moving outward into God’s future.  Out of the deep, peaceful darkness (Nicodemus) certain things come to light (the woman at the well).  Ah, the Gospel of John is rich!

Every Sunday (Luther even encourages daily) we offer our confession, splashed by the well waters of eternal life, and receive God’s mercy.  It’s like “we’ve had 5 husbands.” We confess not just our sin but also our pain and sorrow: “Lord, we are grieving and hurting and scared and anxious; call us back to you.  We’ve had 5 husbands.  

Forgive us for what we’ve done wrong — for the things for which we must take responsibility.  Comfort us in our pain and sorrow and fear — in the things over which we have no control.  Draw us to you, as you point us back out (not inward) to be your people to the strange and the strangers.”

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And, I’ve just gotta point out and love the scene of Jesus talking with a person who is so vastly different.  (My Grandpa Hanske’s like this — he loves just chatting with strangers, and he’s genuinely interested.)  Jesus meets and talks in the midst of difference... consider as you’re interacting online this week.

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Finally, final movement of the story: this woman goes back to her community from whom she’s estranged, and in a twist, actually leads them out!  She goes and opens their eyes to see in a new way. 

Our call here, our vocation, is to be like this woman at the well.  We meet Jesus in worship, in this unlikely place, in this unimaginable situation, at this water well, and then we go and call others, “Come and see the One who knows everything about me...and loves me anyway!”

There is still water coming from the well.  Forgiveness, new life, hope for a broken world.  Living water gushes and cleanses us now and nourishes us for faithfulness in the days ahead.  Jesus meets us and sees us plainly again this day, all our faults and blemishes, all our pains and sorrows, clear in the light of this day...and loves us anyway.  

Now that’s worth re-posting, that’s worth sharing!  Thanks be to God.  Amen.   

Prayers of intercession:

As we gather together and separately in our homes, let us pray for the church, the earth, the world, and all in need, responding to each petition with the words “Your mercy is great.”

Gathered in the mystery of our baptism, O God, we pray 

for Christians around the globe keeping Lent 

for Christians who must stop holding on-site services, 

for all church-sponsored hospitals and clinics 

for our congregation

...

Hear us, faithful God: 

Your mercy is great

. 

Facing global climate change, we pray 

for animals and plants with threatened habitats 

for waters that are polluted 

for areas that suffer from climate-based drought

...

Hear us, creator God: 

Your mercy is great. 

Facing violence throughout the world, we pray 

for the United Nations and all efforts toward world peace 

for all who serve in their nation’s armed forces 

for the people of Venezuela, 

Syria, Afghanistan, and Yemen 

for those maimed by war and terrorism 

for displaced families and all refugees

for traumatized children

...

Hear us, sovereign God: 

Your mercy is great. 

Facing the coronavirus, we pray 

for the thousands who have contracted the virus

for those who anxiously await test results

for all who are quarantined or stranded away from home 

for those who have lost their employment 

for those who are fearful 

for children who have no school 

for health professionals

who tirelessly work to care for others

for medical researchers 

for the CDC and World Health Organization 

for adequate and wise governmental policies

...

Hear us, benevolent God: 

Your mercy is great. 

Remembering all the sick, we pray 

for all who today will die 

for those who are hospitalized 

for those who have no access to medical care 

for those whom we remember before you now: 

Hear us, compassionate God: 

Your mercy is great. 

God of living water, mend the hearts of those who grieve broken relationships, whether by conflict, abuse, divorce, or death. Draw near to all who are afraid. Assure those questioning your presence in the midst of doubt or suffering. 

Hear us, O God.

Your mercy is great.

God of living water, renew us in the promises of baptism. Join us together in worship, fellowship, and sharing your good news. Embolden us—even now—to serve others and to work for justice and peace. 

Hear us, O God.

Your mercy is great.

God of living water, we thank you for those who endured suffering and who now boast in your eternal glory.

We offer our thanks for the lives of those who have died.  As they abide in your everlasting arms, may your comfort and peace be upon all who grieve.  Pour your Holy Spirit into our hearts and give us peace as we live in the hope of our salvation. 

Hear us, O God.

Your mercy is great.

We offer the prayers of our hearts to you (and feel free to post prayer requests):

Hear us, loving God: 

Your mercy is great. 

Into your hands, God of loving might, we commend all for whom we pray, trusting in your mercy, through your Son, Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord. 

Amen