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.

December 24 -- Verticle Nativity (Christmas Eve 2020)

“How silently, how silently the wondrous gift is given…”

Friends, grace to you and peace this Christmas Eve,

Grace is what we need right now, isn’t it?
And Peace...not peace that the world talks about, but when Christians say “grace and peace,” that’s God stuff.  That’s God’s deep and abiding peace, that resides far beneath the surface...

Some years ago I got to go to Rome in January to study and visit Early Christian sites.  It was thanks to Dad, who’s got a good friend Jim, who’s also a pastor and a passionate scholar on the 1st Century Early Church in Rome.  Jim is always leading trips to Rome, and Dad was always inviting me to join them.  And 5 years ago, I finally did!  The trip was amazing; I’d love to go back someday, I hope you all can go there someday too…(btw, ok to mourn even at Christmas time)  

Anyway, I bring my Rome adventure up again this good evening because Rome in January is absolutely filled with nativity scenes.  

The great Francis of Assisi is credited with the Christmas nativity, assembling manger scenes — whether it’s in-home or in-church, indoor or outdoor, realistic or creative, live or little figurines — any and all...so that children, in particular, could better learn and understand the Christmas story.  

And how true it is!  It’s the classic object lesson!  I wonder how many of you might have had/have a special nativity scene that you got to arrange or watch each year grow in the weeks of Advent.  I know that was formative for me growing up, and something I always looked forward to.  I remember on Christmas Eve the tradition at home of bringing out all the baby Jesus’ that had been hidden all through Advent.  And in church, on Christmas Eve, it was a special honor to begin the service each year with a child in the congregation carrying the precious figurine of the baby Jesus up the aisle and placing it ever so reverently into the manger.  I seem to remember this clink as the porcelain Jesus touched the porcelain manger.  After 4 weeks of joyful Advent waiting, the first true bell of Christmas!  

Anyway back to my trip to Rome in 2015:  There were nativities everywhere, called “presepe”, harkening me back to my childhood joys...and also offering new insights...  

One church that was actually physically connected to the “domus” where we were staying, had this wonderful, dimly lit room off of the sanctuary, and it was just filled with nativity sets, presepi, probably 2 dozen different displays spread around the room, with some choral Christmas music playing from a small speaker.  Open to the public around the clock to enjoy—great for those of us with jet-lag.

They were all such intricate arrangements, way more characters than just the stars of the Christmas pageant!  Figurines were camped out and hidden all through these complex landscapes and creative designs, like vast model train sets:  Grottos and tunnels and tiny lights and flowing water...just tickling the imagination.  

You had to walk around each display in order to see everything.  And often, it was a bit of a challenge to find Mary, Joseph and the baby Jesus in the midst of it all.  I think that was intentional.

And some displays were multi-leveled.  

One I remember in particular, told a very clear story to me.  Three levels.  The top level had these armored Roman guards up above, on the top level, standing among white Roman columns; some Roman senator-types lounged on steps around a real fountain bubbling and trickling into a tiny opening…

Then your eye follows the trickle down to the middle level where regular folks are living, it’s a home scene, and a merchant with a cart, and a children playing in the street.  You explore the happy moments and then wonder, wait, where are they?  

The water keeps trickling down to the lowest level and finally you see a tiny baby, a humbly dressed Mary and Joseph, some young shepherds, both male and female, all huddled over the animal feed box.  You had to squint a little bit to see them because there wan’t much lighting down there.  I think had to turn on the flashlight on my phone, but there they were:  

God’s deep and abiding grace and peace, that resides far beneath the surface, levels below the power and glory of the day, even below the beauty and happiness of the neighborhood scenes.

I was so struck by this — clearly: years later...and this year 2020...I’m remembering it — I think in part, because I tend to imagine that holy night, this holy text in Luke 2 on a horizontal plain.  You know, the more characters there are, the wider the frame [nativity in the narthex that took up half the room].  But this was the opposite, it was vertical and narrow, multi-leveled.  Jesus, who the angels above sing about, is born down below:  God’s deep and abiding peace resides far beneath the levels of power and glory, even quaint happiness.  
Friends: that’s way more in line with the Gospel of Luke...the vertical nativity.

Who are the Roman soldiers pressing down on you?  Enforcing peace, more in a “shut up and take it” approach (Pax Romana) leagues away from that divine peace of God, found stories below.  What are the Roman columns in your life, in our world? — the structures that prop up and maintain the status quo, but leave so many buried...buried in debt, or sorrow, or fear?  Hidden at the bottom?  Who are the lounging senators in your life?  Comfortable and jovial, polite, eloquent and smart (in a way), but in their privileged comfort totally oblivious to what’s below, to where the water trickles?  

Jesus loves all of them too, by the way.  Maybe that’s you?  This is land of senators and soldiers, after all.  Jesus comes to be with all of them, with all of us...if we’re feeling pretty comfortable too.  But friends, in Luke’s vertical nativity story, this Jesus comes from the lowest places.  That’s where he sleeps, swaddled and silent.

And the everyday folks in the middle level?  Not rich, not poor, the neighborhoods, the children playing, the marketplace cranking on, the schools and shops and churches, the very real fears and illnesses of the middle level.  Addiction and abuse.  Adultery and anxiety.  Everywhere the water flows.  Jesus gets in there too:
Jesus sits in the homes, eats at the tables, kneels at the bedsides.  And always centers the children.  But comes from beneath.  Born below.  Sleeping on straw.

And made known first to shepherds.  The nightshift.

Friends, [silently] this is our God.  

So deeply imbedded in the underbelly, the gutters below.    Where there’s hardly a drop left.  See, that lower level, is  not just a romanticized Christmas poverty, beautiful in its simplicity: no, it’s dirty down there, it’s bars and brothels, it’s black lives that have endured bloody beatings and bully sticks.  It’s the edges, the places people go when they have no hope, or are where they never had a choice, born by a dumpster, in the stench of an alley, and trying to climb out.  Many of us might have to squint a bit to find this Jesus.  But follow the trickle down.

And be assured that he’s there, that he has arrived, that today is born in the city of David, the nowhere shepherd outpost of Bethlehem…
    That’s where the Shepherd of the World is born!  
The one who guides us to green pastures, and cool waters, where everyone has enough, where healing and redemption abound, where the crooked road is made accessible to all, and the sword of empire and brutality is bent into a gardening tool to plant and feed hungry people.  Where evil and death is conquered at the last, and where forgiveness of sin and new life grows like a tiny sprig from a stump.  This one from below changes everything.  

“Change shall he bring/chains shall he break...his law is love and his gospel is peace…”

This one from the scandalous under-belly spends his ministry in body on earth making level the scenes: turning the vertical into the horizontal!  Flipping the display on its head, rearranging the whole thing, molding a new landscape, where the mighty and glorious are brought down, and the downtrodden are lifted up.  (That was his mother’s song.)  And all may see it together!  (That was Isaiah’s song.)  Jesus sets the characters, even the planets in their places.  And everyone is gathered at the center, in the middle, and included — everyone fed, everyone housed, everyone clothed, and treated with dignity and inoculated with hope and new life.  Including you.

This is our God, from below, with us now.  Changing the entire scene, and offering anew that deep grace and peace...this holy night and always.

[sing] “And you, beneath life’s crushing load,
whose forms are bending low,
who toil along the climbing way
with painful steps and slow:
look now for glad and golden hours
come swiftly on the wing;
oh rest beside the weary road
and hear the angels sing.” 

Amen.

July 7 -- Fourth Sunday after Pentecost

Grace to you and peace….well maybe…  :)
Jesus sends us out like lambs out into the midst of wolves!

That’s us he’s talking about!  When it says he sends “the 70” out, scholars are pretty clear that’s referring to all humanity.  Everyone is sent!  (I haven’t preached Luke’s Gospel since Lent, but remember that Luke is very interested in the Gospel of Christ radiating out, locally then globally, from Jerusalem, Judea, Samaria...and to the ends of the earth.)

So how do you feel about that?!  Being the ones Jesus sends?

Ever wonder, like I do: What are we you doing, listening to and following after this Jesus?  I published that question in the newsletter this week, with my email asking for responses and got like 0!  :)   Uhhhh.  What are we doing following after Jesus, sends us, like lambs into the midst of wolves?

Why do you follow?  It’s good, in these hot humid days to ask what this is all about?  And to stop and take in the fact that Jesus asks us to go into some pretty terribly risky situations.  I love how he says (vs.2-3), “Go on YOUR way.”  My way?  My way is always the a easier way.  The most calculated, safest way.  The path of least resistance.  Jesus is telling us that we’ll most likely be rejected, even eaten up here!

I’m amazed Christianity is as strong as it is!  Aren’t you?  I mean, this faith stuff is not for the faint-hearted.

When tragedy strikes (my 42 year old friend from seminary’s husband died suddenly and mysteriously last week), when disease creeps in, when friends abandon/even betray you, when marriages fall apart, why do you keep following after this Jesus?
And then, at the core of this passage, like so many in the Gospel of Luke, is the call to stand up to the forces of evil in this world.  It’s not just rah, rah hang in there passage.  It’s not just about survival as lambs among wolves.  At the core of this mission Jesus gives to us (the 70) is the call to get face to face with the powers of this world and proclaiming a bold NO to the ways and means that hurt people and earth itself.

When you embrace, preach and live the peace of Christ (that we’ll share in a moment), ironically, you actually create conflict!  When the powers of this world are threatened, by a higher vision of Divine peace, the peace of Christ — where all are included, all are fed, housed, clothed, welcomed, educated — the powers start to get very disturbed, the dragons start to wake up and snarl and try to squelch the disturbance.  (Mother Theresa: feed hungry =saint; ask why there is hunger = communist)

See, everything in Luke is tying back to Jesus‘ inaugural address that we shared together back in January, where the poor have good news brought to them, the captives go free, debts are forgiven, the year of the Lord’s favor.  Luke, remember, I often like to call it: the Mercy Book.  When you start talking mercy, especially to strangers in power, like where Jesus sends us — out there! — you’ve got another thing coming.

Wait, wolves?!!!
Where is the Good News for us in that, friends?

Well, I believe it’s in the journey!  See, Jesus says it over and over, and it’s still really hard to get, but I’ll say it again (even to myself):  The kingdom of God is here!   It’s right here (at hand, upon us!  (candidacy essays: “I want to usher in the kingdom.”)
Our Creator God is already with us.  Christ is right by our side.  The Holy Spirit is moving all around in this sanctuary and in your home and your car and your office or classroom!  Out on the open road.  It’s in the journey!

Do you know the kinds of adventures you’ll have when you risk the call that Christ has for you here?  Don’t wait any longer.  Have the conversation that needs to be had.  Make the change in your life that will lead to deeper faith.  Let the investment go that’s been tying you down.  This is Christ calling us.  Sending you.  And do you know the kinds of fellow travelers you’ll meet?  The kinds of joys you’ll share, even amid the great struggles and pains?   The kingdom of God is here!  Now.  It’s all part of it.

I’m afraid I’m not making sense.
Church stories…
I have a friend who’s been the pastor of small church.  Opportunities for growth and renewal keep knocking on their door...literally but he cannot for the life of him get the congregation to trust God and open that door.  It would revitalize the whole ministry, but they are so stuck on protecting their building and their traditions.  He told me the other day, “It’s like there’s no room for God in there.  It’s like the Spirit is locked up in a cage, like a bird.”  The divine is crowded out by fear of the unknown.  And they just can’t take that step.

Meanwhile, here’s another church I knew in San Diego a few years back: They were literally dying.  Maybe that’s what it takes: my friend’s congregation wasn’t quite at that point yet.)  Anyway, Calvary Lutheran (aptly named in the moment) came together to have that really tough meeting about closing the doors.  It was a younger member of the church who stood up, faced with the realities of budget and staffing shortages, that said, “Well, if we’re going to die, let’s die serving.”  The whole congregation agreed.  This became their rally cry.  And with that they opened up a food pantry in their underserved neighborhood, where in a couple months and with some miraculous grants that came through they started feeding literally hundreds of families a week!   More than one of the more popular organizations downtown.  They just quietly kept feeding people — the whole congregation, not just a few dedicated members.  It became their whole identity.  Suddenly they weren’t worried as much about all they didn’t have.  Their whole perspective changed.  They heeded the call that Christ had for them all along.  And in that came true peace.

And it’s not romantic, it’s not like all their problems were solved and the church grew and recovered by leaps and bounds.  The renewal came in the paradigm shift, the radical re-envisioning of what it means to follow Jesus.

These are the kinds of adventures we have as we risk the call that Christ has for us.  The kingdom of God is not something far off, someday down the line — it’s right here, now (even as we’re dying)!

I love when babies scream during a baptism.  Well, I don’t love it, but I see a powerful reminder every time it happens:  this Christian life is not an easy one.  We should all shed a few tears.  It’s lambs-amid-wolves business.  And yet in this same crazy commission, Jesus talks about peace, true peace.  Finding and knowing God’s peace, right where you are.  Not moving around from place to place, always in search of a better deal, or more comfort or tastier food.  Right?  He says, “Remain in the same house, eating and drinking whatever they provide.”
So here we go.  Jesus told them to go, and so they went.  And God stays with them.  God stays with you, this day and always.  AMEN.

April 14 -- Palm Sunday

Friends in Christ, nothing says “king” like the sight of old, tattered garments laying around in the street. I’m kidding.(These were not our most valuable things strewn before Jesus — I mean would you really throw your best jackets and coats on the ground, even here?  Neither would those in power in Jesus time. These were the blankets and shawls of the poorest and the most desperate.)  Nothing says “Hosanna” like Jesus getting dusty and dirty and riding in on a baby horse.  This is the scandal of the Gospel, friends! ...only to be outdone later this week when this same God of ours is hoisted up on a cross. 

Welcome to Holy Week.  Are you sure you want to do this?  Because this road becomes a bumpy road, if you take it.  Now, many, I imagine, choose to skip over Holy Week devotions and services on Thursday and Friday, and simply meet us on Easter morning, and that’s OK — everyone is welcome.  

But for those who take this journey to the cross, the road is rocky.  But in this road is redemption, new life, forgiveness, transformation, love, hope, and most of all peace — in a violent and chaotic and backstabbing world.  Jesus on this colt trots down the road of peace, and fulfills what the angels sang about to the shepherds long ago — peace on earth, good will to all.  “Blessed is the one who comes in the name YHWH.”

This entry into Jerusalem, this parade of and for Jesus which we remember — and even enact with our own, little procession — was a very dangerous and political demonstration.  (Anyone who doesn’t think Jesus was political better take a second look at these stories!)  Jesus knew exactly what he was doing — and when it comes to political protests and demonstrations, timing is everything.  

You see, every year, a couple times a year, Pontius Pilate — the mighty Roman governor of Judea — would come up from his home in Caesarea (about 50 mi. NW), the coastal Roman capital of the area, and into the city of Jerusalem...to govern, to remind people who’s in charge here.  Jews lived in occupied territory and they hated that — as I’m sure we would too.  Just the sight of the mighty Roman procession of Pilate and his entourage up on their mighty, war horses, would make their blood boil.  It would remind them more than ever of the oppression under which they lived.  But if any of them took a chance and tried to mock them — well, try throwing something at the imperial military procession — see what happens…

And this was the week that the Jews were to be celebrating Passover, and people were coming in from all over Judea to do so.  And so just like when Capitals and the Nationals both have games in DC at the same time: extra security is shipped in, to make sure nothing gets out of hand.   This happened whenever the Jews had a big festival, but especially the festival of Passover, because here — as you know — the Passover a celebration, a remembrance of their liberation from Egypt, it was all about freedom from oppression.  So certain groups of Jews — Zealots especially — were known to incite the Jewish crowds.  It was a really tense atmosphere during Passover.  Anything could happen and the Roman powers — under the command of Pontius Pilate — were going to make sure that it didn’t — or else...there would be blood.  This was “Pax Romana” (Peace of Rome), the great decree of Caesar, live and in the flesh! 

And Pilate and his military forces always came in, we know, through a gate on the western side of Jerusalem, the royal gate, the gate that leads right to their Roman luxurious capital city on the Mediterranean coast.  Easy access.

And Roman theology put military power and military leaders on such a pedestal as to elevate the experience of their triumphal entry to a religious event.  When Roman military leaders and governors like Pilate would come into town, always mounted on great, white war horses, the people would spread blankets on the ground and shout “God save the Emperor” or in Hebrew “Hosanna to the Emperor”, trumpets would play, historians even tell us that they would spray expensive perfume into the streets, so that the smell of victory, power and might was literally in the air.  And woe to any who would disrupt a demonstration and a parade — a worship service — like this!

(It’d like someone disrupting the National Anthem...try it...)

At the beginning of the Passover week, Pilate and his entourage rode into town (from the west) with all this respect and awe and fanfare.  

But there was another procession coming into town that day — another leader was entering through an opposite gate — this one on the eastern side of the city.  Jesus was coming in from Bethphage, where the Mount of Olives is located, just east of the Jerusalem walls.  Jesus’ timed this just right.  He knew Pilate was coming from the west, right about the same time.  So Jesus rides in — not on a war horse — but on a colt in Luke’s gospel.  And it all came off as a mockery of Rome.  Jesus interrupted the National Anthem.  And this Palm Sunday parade that we study and reflect upon this morning, and even enact, at the beginning of Holy Week, is a political demonstration that really mocks all the trust that the Romans have in their systems of war, of peace-by-force, of their mighty horses, and legions of troops, and of Rome’s distance from the people.  They’re not in touch!

It’s not “pax” at all — that Rome offers, if it’s peace through force.  And Jesus knows exactly what he’s doing.  

And so, the text goes on to say, that the people were stirred up.  It says the whole city was in turmoil.  Some of the Pharisees, it says, wanted to calm every body down: “Teacher order your disciples to stop,” but Jesus says, “I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out.”  The very earth would scream.  There’s no going back, in other words.  There’s no keeping status quo any longer.  Something has broken out, heaven has touched earth, and that’s frightening, and that’s promising.  

Holy Week is so rich with meaning...

Our God is not a contender for Pilate and Rome and their legions.  Even though I’m setting it up (and actually this the late, great Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan’s work) like a boxing match:  [Don King] “Coming in from the west..!  East...Let’s get ready to rumble!” No, Christ’s is a road of peace and justice, particularly in Luke’s Gospel.  Remember Jesu’; inauguration speech and before that, Mary’s song that we’ve been singing all through Lent, about the poor being filled and having good news brought to them?!  Christ is our peace.

But I wonder if there’s a part of us — I know there’s a part of me — that wants to see Jesus be the great contender to the powers of this world, taking Pilate down with a divine TKO.  Why do we have this appetite for violence and revenge?  That would certainly be tapping into the spirit of the crowds of that time too.  In fact, that’s exactly what the Jews wanted Jesus to do.  “Knock him out the box, Jesus!”  

But friends in Christ, Jesus contends against something much greater than a powerful and oppressive regime.  [pause]  Jesus contends against evil and sin, against “the devil and all his empty promises”, against hatred and violence, against war and oppression, against bigotry and ignorance, against selfishness and pride.  (Jesus contends against all the challenges that were before us through Lent -- bitterness, the struggle to forgive, staying awake and alert, participating always in the care and attention to the least, the lost, and the lowly.  How’d that go for you?  

I’m guessing — by virtue of the fact that you’re a human being — that you didn’t perfect the disciplines of Lent — prayer, fasting, almsgiving — maybe you even failed pretty miserably.  Yes, Lent teaches us again and again that we stand in the need of God’s grace.)  But Jesus comes to contend against these forces.  

[slowly]  Jesus — in his humble and yet powerful ride into town, mounted on a goofy, young colt — is contending against death itself.

Nothing says Emmanuel like Christ on a goofy, young colt.  

Nothing says God-is-with-us like this spectacle from the eastern gate of the city.  For God comes quietly alongside us and offers us peace amid all the chaos and fury.

The irony here is palpable — that Christ would take on powers much greater than Pilate and the authorities — seated on a baby horse, adorned later with thorns and lashings, and on Friday hanging from a cross.  But Christ comes into Jerusalem and into our hearts precisely for that purpose — to take on death itself...for our sake...to give us peace.  AMEN.  

November 25 -- Christ the King Sunday

Grace to you and peace, from GOD who creates us from the good stuff, from Jesus who redeems us from the bad stuff, and from the Holy Spirit who accompanies us, challenging and comforting us, along the way, through all the good and the bad stuff.  AMEN.

Today on this Christ the King Sunday, we have an interesting picture: Jesus is not crowned in our readings with glory and gold—as much of our art and our music would have us believe.  Jesus is standing before Pilate, “a prisoner” in the Empire’s terms.  

Now why would we focus on this picture on such a regal Sunday, on such a celebratory day?  Jesus is about to be sentenced to death…and that’s our reading for Christ the King?  Other years, the assigned reading on Christ the King is actually the story of Jesus on the cross.  That’s a little strange, a little depressing, don’t you think...especially in this festive, holiday time?  

But sometimes we need to be confronted with the starkest of contrasts in order to hear and understand the Truth of Jesus’ way.  Sometimes we need to see him, face to face with the powers of this world.  [pause] The Roman Empire was the most powerful nation on earth, the greatest country in the world—the mightiest, most sophisticated, most majestic.  It had the most advanced and well-trained military, the best technology in its cities, an order and system of governing that was proven to be most effective, the promise of freedom and peace for all citizens of Rome.  Pax Romana, the Peace of Rome.  It’s a little scary to think about comparing the Roman Empire to the United States of America.  Often we imagine ourselves as the underdog, I mean we Americans love the underdog stories, as we should—it’s written into the fabric of our history, with our humble beginnings and all the underdogs who worked and suffered to get us where we are today.  But we mustn’t kid ourselves now, we are one of the wealthiest, most powerful nations in the world, even in these days.  I like to imagine Christ on our side, but at the beginning of this text today, Jesus is opposite us.  The USA looks a lot more like Pontius Pilate.  Jesus is standing face to face with the power of this world—military might, brute force, Pontius Pilate, governor of Judea, ambassador of ROME.  Pilate represents us.

It’s kind of a classic build-up we’ve got here, at first glance.  ESPN and Fox Sports have mastered the building up of classic rivals before the great match.  Virginia Tech vs. UVA.  The Red Sox vs. the Yankees, the Cowboys vs. Redskins.  Other rivalries?  Help me out… You can almost hear the music and see the helmets clashing and exploding.  “Jesus vs. Pilate!  TODAY ON FOX!  Let’s get ready to...!!”

That’s the way of this world.  Two contenders, someone’s going to win and someone’s going to loose.  And that makes sense to us, doesn’t it?  And in retrospect, every time we read the story, we’re rooting for Jesus.  We’re rooting for Jesus’ might to make everything right.   We’re rooting for our idea of power to be expressed and made known in the ONE TRUE GOD dominating and even destroying the opposition.  “Yeah, show ‘em Jesus!”  It’s so easy to want what the disciples and the Jewish people wanted—an underdog but powerful leader, eloquent and brilliant like a star quarterback to spearhead the underdogs from oppression to freedom, freedom in the world’s terms.  That would make sense!  (& be awesome, right?)

But that’s not what we get.  

First of all, what we get is someone we can’t relate to.  In the Gospel of John, Jesus is ice cool.  He is what he says he is—not of this world.  I don’t know about you but I like a Jesus who I can relate to.  I like Mark’s portrait of Jesus: a guy who gets angry and impatient at times, who gets scared at times, but still manages to overcome death and the grave.  

But not here in the Gospel of John—oh, he overcomes death and the grave alright—but totally unflinchingly.   Jesus has always been portrayed as weak, wracked with pain, humiliated during the Passion, in movies and probably in our imaginations.  Sometimes we try to recreate that on Good Friday.  But in John’s Gospel you’ll notice that he never shows fear.  He never cowers, sweats like blood, praying in the garden that he doesn’t have to go through with this.  Always remember that in John’s Gospel, Jesus is ice cool, calm, almost inhuman.  He practically climbs up onto the cross himself!  In fact what we see here is Pilate getting more and more upset at Jesus’ lack of fear in the face of all the power that ROME represents.  In those classic head-to-head battles that we can relate to so well, we know that both sides have to have a healthy dose of fear in order to take on their opponent.  But Jesus has no fear, never did.  Certainly the most courageous leaders in history tell us that they had to overcome their fear in order to succeed.  But Jesus never overcame fear because he never had it.  Jesus is all God, all divine.  It’s hard for any of us to relate to that kind of Jesus—we kind of draw a blank.  So we imagine other models.  We draw from other Gospels.  We want so badly to relate to Jesus.  We write hymns about “what a friend we have in Jesus,” and we cling to them.  We need those ideas of Jesus to which we can relate...but that’s not what we get today.  [pause]

WE GET A MONARCH, A SOVEREIGN.  You can’t be friends with a heavenly king, no earthly underdog can.  Now how is that Good News?  

[slowly] It’s good news because what we get this day—on this New Year’s Eve Day of our church year, on this day of turning a page in our congregation, on this day of looking both back on this past year and forward into the next—is the all encompassing love of God for this world.  What we get this day is not simply another clash between good guys vs. bad guys, to put it simply, but an embrace…an all encompassing embrace.  In the Gospel of John, LOVE just pours out of Jesus like an ever-flowing stream.  It’s inhuman, that is, beyond this world.  Jesus is LOVE.  There is no clash because Jesus’ reign covers the entire cosmos.  All the world.  Pilate can’t see it, his view is so narrow.  (His love covers the cosmos like light fills a room.  It’s everywhere.)  

It’s like the children’s song, “He really does have the whole world in his hands.”  No one is conquered when they are conquered with love.  That’s what we have today.  Forgiveness of sins, the promise of eternal life, freedom from fear ourselves, confidence to walk in grace led only by the voice of the one true Shepherd King who guides our feet into the way of peace, who is our only true protection.  How quickly we forget and seek other forms of comfort and protection (like Pilate, the disciples, the Jews all did), but Christ is our King—not King in the way the world understands it, but King [pause] over the way the world understands it.  [pause] Jesus’ love pours out all over us and this world today, saturating us with joy, pouring over us comfort and security, flooding us with forgiveness, drenching us with eternal salvation.  It’s overwhelming really.  There’s no contest—a classic duel between good guys and bad doesn’t even make sense.  

It’s all God, all Love, all Jesus.  That’s the cross of Christ, around which we gather here again, before a new year begins.  In this cross is healing, peace, love, life and joy.  Happy New Year.  Thanks be to God.  AMEN. 

August 26 -- Fourteenth After Pentecost

Sisters and brothers in Christ, we put on the whole armor of God in the midst of incomprehensible evil in this world.

This is a challenging text because it talks about evil—evil that is all around us, and evil that is inside us as well.  

There was a trend in some theologies during the 20th century to downplay evil.  “To say that humans are evil is just too negative,” some said in the 1920’s & 30’s.  Then comes Nazi Germany: millions of Jews were tortured and killed during WWII.  And theologians started rethinking the human potential for evil, not only because of the horrible evils inflicted by the Nazis, but also when they considered how many stood by…while the Jews were being murdered.  

And evil is real in our lives today, too.  One of my professors in seminary drove this point home for me when he said, “If you don’t believe in sin, just open your window and breathe the air.”  Air pollution is a constant reminder of our recklessness, apathy, self-centeredness, ultimately our sin.  This is not a fun text, here in Ephesians, to deal with…especially now—at the end of the summer, we’re getting geared up for the fall, new ministry is stretching its wings, revitalization all around, and here we are talking about evil.  It might be easier to discuss, if I could just point to some group of people and pin blame and sinfulness and evil on them.  Or, if I could just point to an individual engaged in some sort of sexual impropriety that would make us all gasp, that I know we would never be a part of, but Ephesians nips this one in the bud and says, “We wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against cosmic powers of this world, against spiritual forces of evil in high places.”  Evil is much greater than one person or a group of persons -- “the wiles of the devil” are much more elusive and very hard to pin down.  

How do we address world hunger, for example?

I preached a sermon once on my internship in St. Louis, and I was talking about a service trip that we took to Nicaragua, and I said something like, “poverty isn’t just an issue, it’s a face” and went on to describe sweet little Olivia who I at one point even carried on my shoulders there.  A woman came up to me afterwards and told me that she liked my sermon, but hated that I had put a sweet face on poverty.  “Poverty is not Olivia,” she said to me with tears in her eyes, “Olivia is a victim of poverty.  Poverty is a horrendous monster.”  Hunger, poverty—these are elusive, gargantuan evils, too great to pin on any face.

How do we battle—to borrow the imagery that worked well for the people of Ephesus—the cosmic forces of evil?  How do we acknowledge, confront and defend against sin?  

You ask me these questions directly, and I’m afraid I’ll tell you that I cope with these things usually by ignoring them—barricading myself from them with my own preoccupations.  I’m on the mailing lists for orgs that send out alerts, and I can’t even tell you how many of those emails I’ve deleted.  Sometimes I do pay attention to such great evils, but just to assuage my conscience I write a check or even take a trip.  I go down to Mexico to build a house.  Then I come back across the border and get back into MY life.

These elusive and tremendous evils—hunger, war, famine, poverty, environmental degradation—are not easy or fun things to talk about.  Very quickly we can talk ourselves silly and just give up.  It’s not REALISTIC to care that much.  It’s not PRACTICAL or LOGICAL.    

But then, neither is our God.

If God was realistic or practical, I’d never be standing here preaching.  Who am I to speak?  I’m too new, too young, too old, too inexperienced, too imperfect, too shy and self-conscious.  But God says, “I have chosen you Dan for special things. I need you.”  

If God was realistic or practical, we couldn’t call ourselves God’s children.  There are far too many terrible things that we have done to each other, to our neighbors, our families, our friends and even to our own bodies…way too many things to really call ourselves “little Christs.”  But God is unrealistic and says, “I have chosen you, Zoe, Tim, Jay, Barb, Marva, Adam for great things.”  I have chosen you to be my messengers.  I have chosen you to go out into the world and share the Good News of my love, offer hope…despite all the dangers, all the hopelessness, despite hunger, war, famine…not because you’re gonna fix it all (only God can do that), but because this is what God “splashes us in baptism” to do.  

Not to belabor this, but if God was realistic or practical, why would God become human?  Why would God come down to earth in the form of a peasant to take on all the sin of the world?  God became human!  That defies all logic and reason.  It is completely unrealistic!  Why would the God of the cosmos choose to do such a thing?  Christianity, by its very definition, defies all logic and reason.  God forgives us all our sin.  That’s crazy!!  God lifts the burden and frees us all!!

So here in Ephesians, we hear of what we are offered for defense amid this chaotic and evil world:  standard issue.  Freely forgiven of our sin, in the midst of the swirling powers of evil, God covers us with something completely new.  Not just armor…that’s something old.  It’s a metaphor.  The Pauline author takes imagery that was very effective for the people of that time, who were used to seeing Roman centurions, pushing everyone around, forcing them back into place if they got out of line.  But Ephesians speaks of a different kind of armor:  THE ARMOR OF GOD.  The NEW image breaks into the OLD.  I’d like to reflect on a few of these articles of God’s armor this morning:  

First, the belt…of truth.  Big word these days: truth.  Putting on God’s belt of truth, all that we say and do becomes honest, caring and sincere.  Gone are the days of double talk, trickery, gossip, deceit.  God, through this letter to the Ephesians, invites us into a new communication and lifestyle—one that is genuine and clear, speaking the truth in love.  (Bonhoeffer)

The breast plate of righteousness.  We don’t show respect for our neighbors because we have to, or because we are guilted into it, or because it’s politically correct.  We respect and even advocate for our neighbors because it’s simply the right thing to do.  Righteousness is about right living; I think the Greek word is even better translated as “justice-orientation.”  When we put on the breast-plate of righteousness, we orient our lives in a way that resembles God’s justice and love.  When we put on the breast-plate of righteousness, issues of hunger, poverty, harassment, racism, sexism, heterosexism—these become important to us because they are about God’s justice.  When people are treated unjustly or as objects, subjected to another’s abuse, we move into that fray, chest first, heart first, to care and speak as people of God, even if an end to injustice seems unrealistic.

“As shoes for your feet put on whatever will make you ready to proclaim the gospel of peace.”  (combat boots) Shoes take us to new places.  This passage calls to mind another scripture passage from Luke 1: “By the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us…[and] guide our feet into the way of peace.”  To talk about peace, or to have a moment of silence to “visualize world peace,” is not enough.  In the midst of violence and apathy, God invites us and leads us into moving our feet into the way of peace, from war to dancing.

The Shield of Faith.  Faith is what we live by.  It is [get ready, definition :) ] “the ability to trust the promise”.  Thinking about faith as a shield helps us think about faith as actually protecting us, as opposed to so many other things we are tempted to use to protect us from harm.  

I’ll never forget, when I was in college, I had this position on our student congregation council called Global Peace and Justice Coordinator.  And we’d put on events that were designed to be thought provoking.  We’d bring in two people on different sides of an issue, and let them go at it.  The most intense event was when we had this guy from the National Rifle Association come and literally face off with a guy from some organization called the Coalition for Peace in the Inner City.  And they fit their stereotypes to the T.  Also present in the audience at the event was this old and pretty famous Lutheran scholar named Eric Gritsch.  The NRA guy really seemed to be dominating in the “discussion,” but I’ll never forget when Professor Gritsch entered the conversation using his faith as a counter-response to arming oneself against danger.  He was challenging the NRA representative, and he was doing while sitting cool and collected.  He eventually made the NRA guy so upset that he was literally standing over Gritsch barking all the reasons why he should carry a gun.  And Gritsch just kept saying essentially that God was his protection.  It makes me think of the shield of faith.  I can’t remember Gritsch’s eloquent words, but I certainly remember his body language.  I’ve never been more amazed with that visual image of this angry, seemingly paranoid, “protected” man standing over a calm, cool, even humorous, faithful man. Now was Gritsch being stupid or unrealistic?  I mean there are some dangerous places in this world.  Maybe he was, but maybe he was simply choosing to carry a different type of shield. 

Helmet of salvation.  Our heads sure can mess with us, can’t they?  I don’t know how, but one constant source of distress is thinking that we have to earn God’s favor.  Whether it’s by doing good things, or stating out loud our beliefs and commitments, somehow we hope that God is hearing and seeing it all and will reward us.  (Lifelong Lutherans stiill.)  But friends in Christ, OURS IS A GOD OF GRACE!!  The helmet of salvation is what covers our heads with the promise of salvation.  It protects our heads against all those other voices...  Maybe we think of the helmet of salvation as BAPTISMAL water.  It is that ever-present protection that allows us to stop trying to win-over God, for God has already won-over us!  Jesus died so that we could live, and so we LIVE in that joy.  

Joy is the final concept here, in thinking about God’s whole armor.  Joy spreads through every aspect of these articles of equipment and sinks into our flesh and bones too!  We could be terrified at what lies ahead on the journey that God has set before us.  Many soldiers are traumatized by battle, and understandably so.  But God is doing a new thing here with us, instead of marching ultimately in fear, and in aggression, and in trauma, and in joylessness --  we march, completely covered with God’s joy.  We are “marching in the light of God.”  

Evil is real.  But so is our God, who abides with us today.

And so we press on, day by day, despite the cosmic forces of evil, we continue on, marching, singing, dancing in the light of God, covered and protected with divine joy, peace, the promise of forgiveness, love, and the hope that only God can provide…this day and forever.  AMEN.             

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Blessing for the New School Year

God our creator,

you surround us with the marvels of this world

and give us the ability to explore 

the mysteries of creation.

You fill the earth with the Spirit of wisdom

and inspire us to search for the truth.

You have sent us prophets and teachers

as witnesses to your love for us.

You have come among us in Jesus Christ

to teach us your saving truth by word and example.

We pray for all who are beginning a new school year,

that both students and teachers

will be blessed in their academic endeavors and explorations.

Almighty God, you give true wisdom and knowledge.

Grant teachers the gift of joy and insight,

and students the gift of diligence and openness,

that all may grow in what is good and honest and true.

Support and cover with peace all who teach and all who learn, 
that together we may know and follow your ways; 
through Jesus Christ our Lord.  Amen.

July 15 -- Eighth Sunday after Pentecost

Sisters and brothers in Christ: grace to you and peace from God who creates us from the clay of the earth, from Jesus who redeems and showers us with mercy and love, and from the Holy Spirit who both comforts and challenges us...and always sends us outward in service to our neighbor.  AMEN.

[whining] “Ah man, we just got started.  And now this?”  Ever gotten going on a project or a job or just a new day and hit a massive speed bump, a real glitch, and stumbled and fallen?

Here we are in Mark’s gospel: Chapter 6.  Last week in the 13 verses that preceded these today, Jesus inaugurates ministry together.  Remember that?  He told the disciples as he sent them out in pairs (no one goes alone): “Take only the basics.  Count on people to welcome you and prepare to receive their hospitality and partnership.  But also, expect resistance.  Shake off the dust from your sandals if you’re not well received. And keep going.  Go!  Be my disciples for the sake of this world, heal the sick, preach the good news, comfort the despairing!” 

And then we have the is interruption, to put it mildly.  What is going on?  “Ah man, we just got started.  And now this?”  Immediately after Jesus has empowered the disciples, this horrific episode takes place in Herod’s palace.  Herod and is wife want John the Baptist dead, but Herod has this fear about John.  But once he’s sunken into a chair belly-stuffed, intoxicated (I imagine), his daughter comes in and dances, old Herod’s fears about John quickly fade into seduction and he offers her “whatever she wants”.  It’s just grimy stuff, at the top echelons of power in Jesus day.  It’s excess and gratuitous and evil. 

Scholars in recent years have named this episode “Herod’s Banquet of Death”.  And it’s contrasted clearly—which is all part of Mark’s narrative arc—against what is immediately after this:  In the very next verses comes, what some have called  “Jesus’ Banquet of Life”...i.e., the feeding of the 5000.  

      “Herod’s Banquet of Death” vs. “Jesus’ Banquet of Life”  

At Herod’s banquet of death, we’re not out in a deserted field, like the feeding of the 5000, we’re in a palace, a lavish banquet hall.  This is where the rich and powerful dine with the king.  A true power lunch, that’s not for the multitude, but a select few.  And there is more than enough for this few.  It’s a feast of excess — excess food, excess drink, excess entertainment, excess space, excess violence.  The select few gorge and imbibe and get entertained as the multitudes starve outside the palace gates, and in the hills and countrysides...  

At Herod’s banquet, women are made to dance and entertain the men.  Women are objects of amusement and pleasure, only to be thrown out with the trash, like greasy paper plates when the pizza party’s over.  Herod’s daughter, it says, pleased him greatly with her dancing...so much so, that in a drunken and reckless state of ecstasy and excess, Herod promises her whatever she wants.  At which point, her evil mother whispers in her ear, “The head of John the Baptist.”

And immediately John is executed and his head is brought in on a platter, like a final course, like a grand finale.  I imagine everyone cheering when the cover of the platter is lifted and John’s head is revealed for the guests to see.  Can’t you just smell the excess -- the sweat, the meat, the death?  This is empire.  

The moral compass has been completely lost to a power-drunk king, and an elite crowd cheers at this retaliatory violence and terror… meanwhile so many others are made to suffer, simply because they are overlooked or not really a concern.  The multitudes of poor and hungry are not Herod’s concern in the least.

The Rev. Dr. Barbara Lundblad asks:  “Is it possible to maintain an empire and feed people who are hungry? [pause] The leftovers of empire have almost always been destruction and death – even in the name of peace and security. There is always enough money for weapons, but never enough to feed those who are hungry. Into such a world, Jesus comes with an alternative vision.”

In the very next verse Mark tells us of Jesus’ Banquet of Life.  This happens, not in palace grandeur, but in the open air — in an open field.  Not lavish but simple.  

In Jesus’ Banquet of Life, everyone is fed; there is enough.  Everyone has enough.  (Do you? Does your neighbor have enough?  What is enough?  Is there bread we can share, like the little boy who shared his loaves and fishes?  These are questions we’re invited to pray about in these days, even and especially here at Bethlehem...where our very name means “House of Bread”.)  In Jesus Banquet of Life, everyone is treated with respect and dignity, men and women, young and old, gay and straight, black and white, immigrant and native, the list goes on...In Jesus Banquet of Life peace and forgiveness, love and justice rule the day, and there is no place for terror and violence.  In Jesus’ Banquet of Love, we trust ultimately in God, not in money or weapons or power or fame.  In Jesus’ Banquet of Love, trust in God always trumps fear.

So what’ll it be for us sisters and brothers in Christ?  Herod’s Banquet of Death or Jesus’ Banquet of Life?  That’s a very Markan question to pose.  Jesus is very clear-cut in Mark.  It’s always this way vs. that.  No fuzzy gray areas: “Well, it’s complicated.”  No!  For Jesus in Mark, it’s either good or evil.  It’s God or the devil.  It’s Jesus’ way or the empire’s way.  It’s bread or weapons.  It’s life or death.  What’ll it be for us, Bethlehem?

Here at Bethlehem, I’m afraid to say, and I’m wondering if you might agree with me: Here in my two weeks already, I’m really sensing, in some ways, death pressing in around us.  Not this extreme, Herodian, debaucherous, banquet of death, but just the attitudes and the fears and the despairs that “death” can bring. 

With all the things that are going on here lately.  With a normal amount of conflict, but conflict nonetheless, in your history here... and now another new pastor.  With steady declines in membership and youth and participation in general: there’s been some mourning over this, I’ve heard.  Others have actually left.  It’s too much for them and they’ve moved on.  

Who doesn’t long for the past if it’s a memory of a better day?  Do you ever feel, with me, like death has been pressing in on Bethlehem Lutheran in Fairfax?    

And of course the rips and tears and broken glass and scratches of hateful words.  There it certainly feels like death, like John the prophet has been taken down and Herod is winning…

--

But sisters and brothers in Christ (not in Herod), sisters and brothers in the Gospel of life (not the shadows of death), sisters and brothers of good (not evil) — God has not abandoned us!  

Death does not have the final say here or anywhere...because of Christ.  Jesus is here [table] in our pain and confusion and terror and decline.  The Holy Spirit moves in our midst and fills us with new breath, and with new bread (not the excessive meat and drink of Herod, but the the bread of life and wine of forgiveness, a feast of love and not terror).  God picks us up as we pick up the pieces, even as we may trip and fall, right out of the gate.  “Ah man, we just got started. Now this?” 

Friends, we have a God who is good, with a peace that endures, a Christ who abides, a Holy Spirit that comforts us when we’re down and challenges us when we’re complacent or paralyzed by fear.  

This is our God.  And our God will grant us, each of us, wisdom and courage for the days ahead, for the new directions we take, for the peace and forgiveness we will practice with each other, and for the love that we are called to share.  That love, peace, forgiveness, courage and wisdom is yours now, through Christ who strengthens us, today and always.  

Welcome to Jesus’ Banquet of Life!  AMEN.