July 21 -- Sixth Sunday after Pentecost

Grace to you and peace…from Jesus, who is with us.  Amen.

Friends in Christ, we are distracted by many things.  Often times when this text comes up or this story is told, we are invited to think about whether we are Mary’s — sitting at the feet of Jesus, or Martha’s — worried and distracted by many things.  [It’s true, we can be both Mary and Martha at different times in our lives.]  But today, for the sake of this sermon, I’m going to just assume that we’re all Martha’s — worried and distracted by many things.  Yes, there’s a little Mary in each one of us too, but in this day-in-age, we are almost programmed to pick up and respond to distractions...  

I’d like to just take a moment and ask you to jot down about 10 things things that are distracting you right now…in this place and in your life.  

Are we relating to Martha yet?  (Distractions in the world, in your life, in the news, in the community...) And how when we’re busy/serving, it’s easy to be judgmental of those who aren’t?  “Huh, must be nice to go on vacation.”  “Huh, maybe someone ought to work a little harder.”  And then Martha pulls a classic triangulation with Jesus.  Do you know what triangulation is?  Concept introduced by Dr. Murray Bowen.  (We see this all the time in the church:  Instead of going directly to the person with whom we’ve got a problem, we go to someone else, and try to rope them into our conflict and get them on our side… For example, if I’ve got a problem with another pastor in the area, instead of talking face-to-face with my brother or sister, I go to the bishop: “Tell him to behave...but don’t tell them..”  Another example: Husband and wife:  She’s very frustrated by her husband’s work habits:  long hours, time away from the children.  But instead of talking to him, she calls her sister, and tells her, but tells her not to say anything because she doesn’t want to damage her relationship with her husband.  Is triangulation a healthy way of communicating?)

Kacy Brown of the Well Counseling Center (just one of many resources out there) suggests some ways to avoid triangulation:  1) Go directly to the person with whom you have the conflict.  2) Avoid trying to draw others in and get them on your side behind the scenes.  3) And try as much as you can to de-triangulate...stay out of triangles.  Encourage others who are venting to you to go directly to the person with whom they have the conflict.  

This little side note on triangulation may be an unintended gift of this gospel text for us today, helping us communicate better with one another and reminding us of some unhealthy pitfalls in our communication styles, to which we’re all susceptible.

So, poor Martha.  Poor you and me.  Not only is she getting nicked just for being busy, but also for being a poor communicator.  Yep.

But here’s where Jesus gives her a gift:  “Martha, Martha, stop, sit down, breathe.”  Rather than getting hooked into the triangle Martha is trying to form, Jesus offers her a path out of bitterness: to stop.  To breathe.  (Probably doesn’t help that he uses her sister as the example, but we do get an image of the human being from Mary...as opposed to the human doing.)   “Stop, sit down, breathe.”

How we too can be distracted by so many things in our lives, in our world, even as we sit here in the sanctuary on Sunday.    How we in the church can be all about church all the time, and yet never truly worship...even when we’re in worship.  

    [conversations about Martha’s bitterness: another distraction from Jesus’ point?]

How is Jesus inviting you to stop, sit down and breathe?

This, Christ says, is the “better part”.  There is so much here that relates to us today.  We are called to listen, more than talk; to watch and wait, rather than run, run, run all the time.

Walter Brueggemann, Sabbath as Resistance: "Divine rest on the seventh day of creation has made clear (a) that YHWH is not a workaholic, (b) that YHWH is not anxious about the full functioning of creation, and (c) that the well-being of creation does not depend on endless work."  

Christ invites us to rest this day.  To stop.  To center.  To listen.  And to know that God is God.  We are human beings, not human doings.  And Christ makes us that this day, Christ redeems us from our incessant doing-ness — making us fully human being.  We are made to sit at Jesus’ feet.  (pillows in the sanctuary)  In our busyness, in our fallen communication styles, in our running around we can almost loose a piece of our humanity, becoming like robots knocking tasks off our lists.  I heard a story recently about “a mother who coached, drove her kids around and volunteered for every school committee.  She was a supermom.  She loved her kids. Thing is, one of the kids [at church youth group], confided in [her pastor] that she hardly ever saw her mom. Her mom was so busy coaching, leading, volunteering ‘for her kids’, she was too busy to spend time with them.  This is a phenomenal lesson for those who are leaders in the church. We can become so obsessed with doing ‘God’s’ work, we lose track of God.” 

But Christ redeems us today.  Our humanity is restored, and we are offered a place and a time to center, and breathe and refocus.  Prayer, listening, centering — it’s precisely when we say we don’t have time for these things, that we know we need them.  It’s not that we shouldn’t serve, of course.  It’s that centering and listening, sitting at the feet of Jesus like 

Mary, must come before the serving so that we don’t loose sight of the vision.  (scrubbing the deck of the ship, but not at the wheel, so the ship crashes)

Jesus speaks gently to you this day.  Calls you by name.  Invites you to slow down for a change.  “There is need of only one thing,” Christ instructs us.  God is love.  In Christ, is our hope.  We are gathered this day back to the center, the ultimate concern.  And here at the center, we are forgiven and we are fed.  The time will come to go and serve.  But not before sitting at Christ’s feet, receiving God’s gifts at the table, the manger, which are poured out for you in abundance.  

God’s forgiveness washes over you in this time.  God’s peace shines upon you.  God’s presence fills every fiber of your being.   And in a moment God’s very body, the bread of life, will fill your body, Christ’s own blood, will co-mingle with yours.  Stop, listen, watch, breath.  Christ’s own gifts are being poured out for you and for many.  There is peace and grace to go around, that never runs dry.  Come and rest, here at the wellspring of hope.  Here at the center.   Here at the feet of Jesus.  AMEN.    

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Hymn of the Day is “Will you let me be your servant” #659 which might seem counter intuitive to this Gospel text today. But I chose it because of the second half of the first and last verses: “Pray that I may have the grace to let you be my servant too.”  ...which may be our greatest challenge: to sit and receive and breathe.

July 14 -- Fifth Sunday after Pentecost

Grace and peace from Jesus the Christ, who loves us and calls us to love our neighbors. Amen.

I want to start with the idea of the Parable of the Good Muslim.  I’ve imagined this before in sermons on this very familiar text, where I invited folks to compare the Samaritan for the people listening to Jesus to a Muslim for us listening to this parable today.  The Parable of the Good Muslim.

I don’t think that’s fair or honest now.  Maybe for some of us, Islam does not make our blood boil.  Muslims certainly get a bad rep in the larger culture still, but maybe you don’t actually hate Muslims.  I don’t.  Maybe you, have friends or family members or co-workers who are Muslims.  The individual Muslims I’ve known have been awesome — funny, faithful, friendly, forgiving.  That’s not the attitude to have when listening to Jesus’ story.  “Hey, the Samaritans I’ve known have been great.”  No one in Jesus‘ audience would have said that.

So the way to really get at the story fairly and honestly today, the way to put yourself into Jesus‘ audience today, one commentator has suggested, is to ask the question, “What person would you rather die in the ditch than be rescued by?”

Jesus was trying to elicit groans from his hearers.  Maybe the Muslim example does work for you, but if you remember, Jesus and his disciples have just been rejected themselves by Samaritans.  (I haven’t ever received personally an unwelcome, rejecting word or gesture from a Muslim I’ve known.)  Jesus and his disciples had just been rejected…by Samaritans.  It was chapter 9: “They did not receive Jesus because he had his face set for Jerusalem.” And it angered his disciples James and John so much that they wanted to punish those Samaritans with a violent revenge.  But Jesus rebuked his disciples and just kept moving on peacefully.

So — that is to say — Jesus is not just picking some person out there that some people despise, but others are actually friends with so can’t relate.  Jesus is using a personal — and in his case a collective — example that is going to elicit audible groans.   

(He was also, btw, doing a twist on a punchline:  See, the trio is supposed to be a priest, a Levi, and a scribe.  [Probably a scribe listening.]  So everyone’s expecting the scribe to be the one to stop — almost an “I know, I know a priest doesn’t, a Levi doesn’t, but the scribe does.”  He’s the example and that’s how we should be.  But Jesus twists the punchline.)  

Jesus is really catching the people off guard and scandalizing them with an offensive example at the same time.  There would have been audible gasps in that crowd.  What’s so bad about Samaritans?  (GS law, lunch group) But Samaritans were the Jews in the Northern Kingdom who were not taken into Babylonian captivity, who didn’t experience the exile, who didn’t know what real suffering means, and what it means to remain a faithful Jew all those years.  The Judean Jews thought the Samaritan Jews were polluted by the other cultures that had come into the territory while they were gone in captivity.  

In other words, we’re talking about family that’s deeply estranged here.  They’re all descendants of Abraham and Sarah, but are now seeing themselves as arch-enemy siblings.  

Who is that for you?  Who would you rather die in a ditch than see that person coming to help you?  [pause]

Maybe, like in the story here, that’s a member of your own family.  Maybe die-rather-than-being-rescued-by-that-one is a little hyperbolic (as story tellers tend to be), but you get the idea, don’t you? 

I think it’s no coincidence that the very next story is about a family conflict.  Here it is again:  constantly in Luke’s Gospel, Jesus teaches something...and then we see it played out.  First he tells a story and then a real life example.  The very next real-life event after the famous Good Samaritan story (next week’s text), is the two sisters Mary and Martha.  [paraphrase]

Now, I can’t quite imagine that they (and particularly Martha) were so at odds with each other that they’d rather die than be rescued by the other.  But there is definitely some deep resentment on Martha’s part (at least), right?  Almost like the Judean Jew toward the Samaritan Jew resentment: “She doesn’t know what it means to work and suffer,” Martha is complaining to Jesus.

And that’s were we can really touch down into this text.  (Who are you complaining to Jesus about?)  First an extreme lesson, and then a tangible, down-in-our-guts, incarnated example.  

The whole Gospel of Luke is about Jesus ushering in a society with mercy, including and climaxing with Jesus’ work on the cross and the resurrection.  All mercy.  He’s always over and against hard heartedness, bitterness, resentment, anger, fear.  It’s one story/event after the next about Jesus ushering in mercy.  

And these two episodes today are no exception.  The Samaritan shows mercy.  (But did you notice the man, when Jesus asks, “Now which of these three was the neighbor?” couldn’t even say the word?  He couldn’t even say ‘Samaritan’.  He just said, “The one who showed mercy.”)

Anyway, the Good Samaritan is a story about mercy, and not just of the hated Samaritan’s mercy, but calling us the hearers to mercy...to giving a second look to those we deem enemies, even and especially those opponents who are closest and most visceral to us.  And just to drive it home, it’s followed by a real-life example:  A sister.  A brother.  A parent.  A child.  A former best friend.  A  next door neighbor.  A co-worker.  A church member.  We’re talking not about some big enemy “out there”, but about a family member, a real person who makes your stomach turn, who makes you tense up, or keeps you awake at night.  How about giving that one a second look.  Who do you need to give a second look to, who is that person in your life — you’ve been so backed up with anger, fear, resentment, bitterness toward?  That’s your neighbor.

That’s where our new journey begins, friends in Christ.  With a groan.  And a challenge.  And a call to honesty…and mercy.  Christ calls us always to mercy, peace and grace.  

Christ offers us that mercy, peace and grace, even if we have wronged those around us in some way — those locally and immediately, like our sisters or brothers or neighbors...and those broadly, indirectly and globally.  Even if, even though we have fallen short.  This amazing grace and mercy is for us too.

And Christ walks with us as we continue to seek new ways of extending that grace and mercy to all those we meet here and out on our roads.  Thanks be to God, that we don’t do this hard work of Christian love alone.  We do it together, and Christ is right there with in our midst.  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.

June 16 -- Holy Trinity Sunday

“Praise, my dear ones, let us disappear into praising.  Nothing belongs to us.” (R.M.Rilke) AMEN. 

When I was a boy, growing up, we used to spend some of our summer vacations visiting Grandma and Grandpa Roschke in Kansas City, Missouri.  

And one of my favorite things to do there, I remember, was to go with my brothers and my cousins, to one of the city centers (I think it was downtown)...and play in the jumping fountains.  Ever seen one of these?

We would put our swim suits and Mom would put our sunscreen on in the hot Midwest summer.  And we’d all go down to the jumping fountains, and try to catch the water,  shooting from one pod to the next.  We’d try to figure out the pattern of the jumping fountain, but we never could.  And then after an interval of sporadic jumping water, the whole fountain would just explode with a huge shower!  And then quiet again.

I just remember so much laughing and squealing with glee and holding onto each other (both in teasing and in joy)...  And I remember when you got hit with that water [gasp] how cold and shocking it was (our parents would take pictures of our faces), and at the same time how refreshing it was.  It’s hard to talk about it and not smile…

The memories of that place—from another time in my life—come flooding back this day as I think about the Holy Trinity on this Holy Trinity Sunday, first Sunday after Pentecost, the beginning of what many of our liturgical brothers and sisters call Ordinary Time, what I have called Outside Time or the Green Season.

And it all starts today, on this Father’s Day, with the celebration of the Holy Trinity!  

What can we say of God, the Holy Trinity?

My guess is that pastors everywhere are sheepishly and humbly approaching church pulpits today—or at least they should be—because whenever you talk about the Trinity, you’re always in danger of committing heresy.

This might seem silly to us now: just say what you want to say about God...it’s a free country, right?  What’s the big deal?  In recent years, I haven’t heard a whole lot of synod assemblies arguing about the nature of Christ, and God the Son’s relationship to and with God the Father.  

   

But please remember today, that the early Christians really went to the mat on this stuff.  (Human sexuality and biblical interpretation, positions on war or women’s rights — the things we fight about: nothing compared to those controversies.)  Some wanted to say that there was a pecking order to the Holy Trinity: God the Father, Jesus the Son (who was a little bit less than God the Father) and then Holy Spirit...just like this extra bird or something.

But Athanasius really put the nail in Arius’ theological coffin.  Arius was the one who wanted to say that that God the Father was greater than God the Son.  Remember the Athanasian Creed from the old green hymnal, the LBW?  We used to always say this on Holy Trinity Sunday...

We worship one God in Trinity, and the Trinity in unity, neither confusing the persons, nor dividing the divine being. For the Father is one person, the Son is another, and the Spirit is still another. But the deity of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit is one, equal in glory, coeternal in majesty. What the Father is, the Son is, and so is the Holy Spirit.

Uncreated is the Father; uncreated is the Son; uncreated is Spirit.

The Father is infinite; the Son is infinite; the Holy Spirit is infinite.

Eternal is the Father; eternal is the Son; eternal is the Spirit:

And yet there are not three eternal beings, but one who is eternal;

as there are not three uncreated and unlimited beings,

     but one who is uncreated and unlimited.

Almighty is the Father; almighty is the Son; almighty is the Spirit:

And yet there are not three almighty beings, but one who is almighty. 

Still with me?  This Trinity stuff is crazy.  But it should not just be tossed out: “Who cares?”  This is the doctrine we confess, to which we cling, which gives us hope and joy (actually) and is the basis for a rich theological tradition...to which Luther subscribed, and we many, many years later still put on this great outfit called the Trinity/our creeds.  To think that God the Spirit, is equal to God the Father, is equal to God the Son, who we name as Jesus!

Just trying to wrap our head around this, with the words of these ancient creeds, we start to enter into the mystery and the wonder of our God.  That God is not someone we can capture.  Saying these old creeds, while at first for us might seem restricting or limiting or too doctrinal — 

I’d actually encourage you to see these creeds (these fabulous outfits) rather as a threshold—or an entry way—into a wondrous relationship with God and with one another!   Put them on, and let the fun begin.

And so I began with an image of children playing in a jumping fountain — I tried to put words around and onto an experience that I really can’t put words around. [pause] But I hope you could at least catch the joy, even in my meager telling of that time in the jumping fountain…[pause]

...so it is with God:

We like children revel in the majesty of God’s splendor...even in this life, not just in the life hereafter.  Can’t accurately put words on it, exactly.  We laugh and run, we hold each other, sometimes we hurt each other, we are soaked with the waters of our baptism — and sometimes that’s shocking and freezing, but mostly it’s a joy, it is refreshing/renewing.  And we keep coming back to those waters to play, whether we’re 3 or 83... 

One of the newer hymns for Holy Trinity in our red hymnal is called “Come, Join the Dance of Trinity”.  Here is a modern hymn writer, shifting away from an explanation of the mystery of the Trinity—not in a heretical way—but rather imagining us people of God as being interwoven with God, caught up in the “dance” of the Trinity...I would say, reveling in the jumping fountain of our Triune God.  

Like that fountain in Kansas City, we can’t really figure out the pattern of God, but that doesn’t matter.  That’s not our job.  

All we can do is bask in God’s splendor and beauty.  Feel God’s love drench us and chill us, and hold onto one another.  This is life in the swirling, jumping Trinity!  We can’t ever fully put our finger on it.   And so we play and enjoy and try; we are helped today by a poem in Proverbs, a psalm, by Paul, and the Gospel of John, by our prayers and several hymn writers, through the text of our liturgy, and a sermon, and the gift of bread and wine.  

Friends, we are drawn together into the life of our unfathomable, “immortal, invisible God, only wise.” We revel in the mystery, we dance in the Trinity, we are swept up, soaked and filled with joy, as our praises today reach the rafters and our spirits soar in thanksgiving!  

To our Triune God be the glory, forever and ever!  AMEN. AMEN. AMEN.

June 9 -- Pentecost Sunday

It is so hard to do Pentecost again, isn’t it?  I mean, in our ordered, structured, controlled and many ways comfortable lives, our Confession and call to worship — more poetic, today — I think, kind of nailed it:  “So we listen, depart, and return to our ordered existence: we depart with only a little curiosity but not yielding; we return to how it was before, unconvinced but wistful, slightly praying for wind, craving newness, wishing to have it all available to us.”  (Those were the words of pastor, prophet and professor Walter Brueggemann.)

He concludes in that piece: “We pray toward the wind and wait, unconvinced but wistful.”  

With all that we have, why would we even need the Holy Spirit at Pentecost?  Right?  She just messes things up.

I mean the Acts story is kind of entertaining, we’re a little curious, but “shake us loose from lethargy, break the chains of sin asunder for earth’s healing set us free, crumble walls that still divide us, make us one in Christ our Lord” (all from verse 3 of the Hymn of the Day we’re about to sing) — that all sounds nice, but let’s calm down here, people: Pentecost is just a day for wearing red, maybe reading and singing in different languages...earth’s healing? crumbling walls? C’mon, Jesus — that’s too much, that’s too “out there”.  We’d rather remain “unconvinced but wistful.”

It’s hard to do Pentecost, isn’t it?  It’s hard to live Pentecost, and — what we in the church call — the Season after Pentecost.  Starting next week until Advent!  We’d rather just return to our ordered existence, only a little curiosity, but not yielding.

This is our dilemma:  It’s hard to yield.  It’s hard to let the Holy Spirit in, disordering, dismantling.

Couple years ago, I heard a story from a new friend about Emma.  I was at a training event in Chicago and met Jan, Emma’s pastor.  She told me about her larger-than-life little Emma, a 7-year-old member of this start-up congregation in suburban Kansas City.  

They had been gathering for only a few months, and they were just beginning another typical Sunday morning service with red hymnals like ours and synthesized organ on the electric keyboard, gathering at the font for the Invocation, the Call to Worship like we do.  Pastor Jan, offering the opening words in the Confession and Forgiveness.  And suddenly Emma says, “Stop!!”  See, they were worshiping in a storefront and one of the walls of their space was all window, and Emma was watching, and she saw that a new family had just arrived, running late with their baby in a stroller, but trying to be discreet.  Emma went running right through the gathering at the font and burst outside to throw her arms open and say, “Welcome!  We’re so happy that you’re here!  My name’s Emma!  What’s yours?”  (It happened to be a same-gendered couple.)  The congregation can watch this whole drama unfold through the glass, and within seconds, little, energetic Emma bursts back into the sanctuary, with her new friends and announces, a little winded now, “This is Anna and this is Julie, and this is baby Simon. [whew] Now we can start.”

When Pastor Jan told me this story, she ending by saying: “Best Call to Worship ever.”  

Crumbling walls, yes?  The gift of a storefront sanctuary, walls that are windows.  Or no walls at all.  I love when we worship outside in the pavilion, and what a gift it is to gather in a place where outsiders can be easily seen and welcomed in.  We have that too, in many ways, with our large narthex and multiple points of entry.  

This is doing Pentecost, and while it is hard, Christ fills us this day with courage and joy to go, and throw our arms open like Emma.  “Welcome, we’re so glad that you’re here!”

Another true story from the West Coast that happened in one of the congregations out in the desert.  Service was beginning.  It was a more traditional, established church, where people even dress up a bit for worship on Sunday (polo shirts).  And all the usual people were gathering and greeting one another, and in comes a very thin woman — we’ll call her Nora — she’s a white woman, but her tan skin is so dark and leathery that you can barely see the strange tattoos exposed by her tank-top, her hair is frizzy and tangled -- also beaten by the sun.  And her worn-out sandals are barely hanging onto her feet.  

The “greeter” — we’ll call her Joan — who is always the greeter and knows everybody who comes in by name (Joan’s even the type of person who knows personal details about just about every member), Joan sees this wild-haired, poorly dressed, age-worn woman coming in from the parking lot, and she immediately gets both nervous and suspicious.  “Hi...” she says to the visitor with a forced smile.  “Can we help you?”  

“Uh, yeah.” Nora’s starts, with a raspy voice from years of smoking, kind of peering into the past Joan toward the sanctuary, “Where are the service folders?” 

“Um,” Joan stops her.  Kind of looking over her shoulder.  In a hushed whisper, Joan offers some advice: “Maybe you’d be a little more comfortable at the church down the street.”  (Joan knows that St. James Episcopal, just walking distance, down on the corner really “specializes” in homeless ministry.)  “Maybe you’d be a little more comfortable at the church down the street.” 

“The hell I would!” says Nora, “I’m coming in.  I need to be here.”  And in she walks, finds the bulletin herself, takes a place in the one of the middle pews (nobody sits next to her), and proceeds to sing and participate enthusiastically...and off key through the service.  

The people remain nervous and suspicious, watching her out of the corner of their eye during worship. But Nora’s not going anywhere.    

[pause]

[slow] Friends, both Nora and Emma are Pentecost characters.  The Spirit bursts out to welcome the stranger and the outsider, and the Spirit sometimes is the outsider that’s “comin’ in!” “I need to be here,” Holy Spirit says, whether we’re comfortable with her or not.  

It is hard to do Pentecost, when we’re settled and comfortable, but friends in Christ, Pentecost is upon us.  We don’t get a say in it.  We have a God who blows out and blows in, with or without our permission or our parameters.  This God is with us and for us.  This God moves among us — sometimes we’re on board with her; many times, we’re ambivalent at best.  That doesn’t stop the Holy Spirit.  (In Greek and Hebrew the exact same word for spirit means wind or breath too.  Why do you think that is?)  

The Holy Spirit, she is wild: sometimes bubbly like young Emma, sometimes raspy and way off-key like old Nora.  Sometimes gathering us in, sometimes, breaking us out..of old ways and old suspicions.  This Holy Spirit is here in our midst today, and even while it is indeed hard to do Pentecost — to not just stay “wistful and unconvinced” — even while it is indeed hard to do Pentecost and this coming Season after Pentecost, the “What now? Season”...friends, the Spirit stays with us anyway.  The Holy Spirit in all her wildness rests even on our heads, burns our psyches, singes our egos, grants us visions and dreams, enables us to prophesy, that is say things that we would never imagine ourselves to be saying...and in all that, we are made free.  In other words, the Spirit moves us to yield.

She moves us to yield and sends us forth to serve in peace, for we are made free...whether we’re ready for this kind of freedom or not.  Pentecost is upon us.  Thanks be to God.  AMEN.    

June 2 -- Seventh Sunday of Easter

How’d you like Jesus’ prayer here?  I sometimes struggle John’s Gospel, because I think it’s hard to follow some of Jesus’ words… “I in them and you in me and we one and they one I in them you us we he they…”  I loose track of all those pronouns.  But here’s the bottom line of the loving prayer that Jesus prays:  that Christ is in and with us, and that we’re together.  

Isn’t that beautiful?  And it’s easy to make fun of...

It reminds me a bit of something I’ve heard from loved ones who are tough to get a gift for, “I don’t want any ‘thing’ for my birthday, I just want us to be together, I just want us all to be together.”  Heather’s said this before...and clarified, “I don’t want to be sent away from the family, to a spa for the day or a retreat alone: I just want us all to be together.”  My dad talked this way a lot also...

Of course there’s no “just” about it, like it’s something easy or flippant.  It’s a bold desire.  How hard it is for families to “be” together, even when it’s possible physically.  So much strife amid families, so much history, and pent up bad/sad memories.  So many ongoing disagreements...on philosophies of parenting, or on politics or religion, or life choices.  It’s so hard to “just” be together, in peace, isn’t it…

And yet there are those among us, in this world and in our communities, who continue to call us back together — not idly and dreamily, but boldly and lovingly, calling us back to the fold, back to the community, back to the earth, back to a healthy life and a full life and a life together.  They’re like New Testament prophets encouraging us:  Stay together sisters and brothers in Christ, live kindly and peaceably with one another.  Love one another.

This is what Jesus prays for us today...and far beyond just our immediate family to come together.  Jesus too prays (boldly not dreamily), “I want the family to be together, in peace, and I’m going to be there too.  I’m not going anywhere,” Jesus says to us.  “Don’t send me off to some spa or retreat in the clouds.  I’m staying right here with you, no matter what you have to say about.  I’ll be here in water and word, wheat and wine.  I’ll be here in the faces of both friends and strangers alike.  I’m not going anywhere,” Jesus tells us today. 

Christ. Is. Here. Today.  Loving us, friends.  Praying for us.  (Not sure we think of Jesus praying for us, but here it is, today in the Gospel of John.)  And Christ isn’t going anywhere.  Praying that we come together, cross the divides, have the tough conversations, and greet one another in peace and joy. 

—

I want to shift over to this First Lesson that Michelle read from Acts...because there we have some pretty graphic imagery of family not coming together, of family bickering, not just that, but family hurting each other:  great story from Acts!

Paul and Silas...get annoyed...cast out “the spirit of divination”...upset the business establishment...upset the way things are done.  That’s Part 1 of this account. 

Then they get thrown in prison.  And here’s where we see glimpses of God working and bringing the most unlikely of people together:  the prisoners and the prison guards.  My friend’s dad was a prison guard, and I’ve heard and can certainly imagine that it’s rough in there.  That’s understatement, right?  And yet the other stories I’ve heard, kindnesses that take place, perhaps few and far between.  Perhaps not.  That’s the Spirit working in the unlikeliest of places.  People crossing the divides.  And that’s what happens in this reading for today.  Paul and Silas (the prisoners), befriend and even baptize the prison guard and his whole household!  

They even stay after an earthquake sets them free!

And can you see Jesus‘ prayer almost hovering over this whole scene?  Like when 2 brothers finally reconcile after years of fighting.  Like when 2 sisters finally have the tough conversation that ends in happy tears and a long embrace.  

Have you ever seen this in your own life?  It’s rare.  

And like in the text, sometimes it takes a disaster, like an earthquake, to catalyze the reconciliation, but when peace finally comes into a family’s (or a congregation’s or a community’s) dynamic, it is no small moment.  When after years of being at each others throats, calling each other names, arguing and fighting, or going long spells without ever even talking, when finally peace comes and settles into a family’s dynamic...there’s Jesus‘ prayer for unity and peace and presence, hovering over the whole scene.  It’s no small thing.  It is a gift.  Pure grace.

Friends in Christ, here in our final week of the Easter Season,  here at the beginning of summer, here at the end of one chapter and the start of another, God is here.  And God’s not going anywhere.  God through Christ prays for us today.  Prays for love, longs for us to reconcile with one another, to forgive one another, as we have been forgiven.  That’s the big Christian question, I believe:  

“HOW’S FORGIVENESS GOING FOR YOU?”

     (you forgiving others, yourself...you receiving forgiveness...)  

God is here as we struggle with that, holding us like a strong parent, calming us down.  As we struggle to shed our anger and our resentment, our bitterness and our remorse.  Christ isn’t going anywhere, off to a heavenly spa in clouds.  Christ is right here with us as we struggle.  Christ is right here with us in our pain, in our loneliness.  Christ is right here in our both in our joy and especially in our sorrow.  

This God knows pain (remember the Good Friday cross), this God comes and waits (and wades) with us through our pain.  This God holds us, and gives us hope, gives us peace...  

And we are made one; we are together...this day.

In Jesus’ name.  AMEN.

May 26 -- Sixth Sunday of Easter

Oh no!  Now Paul has had a vision!  (Remember last week when Peter had a vision—and everything changes?)  What an energetic and open group of people that must have been accompanying Paul, the way Acts 16 is narrated — “When he had seen the vision, we immediately tried to cross over to Macedonia, being convinced that God had called us to proclaim the good news to them.”

And so they set sail from Troas, to Samothrace, to Neapolis and from there to Philippi.  That’s their missionary journey.  How’s yours looking this week?  You know you’re all Christ’s missionaries, right?!

From where will you set sail this week, and where will your visions lead you this coming days, weeks, months?  How would you record your missionary journeys?  God’s calling some of us downtown, across the river or the tracks, maybe over borders, and maybe over to visit a friend’s house (or maybe someone who’s definitely not your favorite person) to offer comfort and support…

“During the night, ____ had a vision: there stood a man on the corner of Braddock and Backlick, pleading with her and saying, come over to the city and help us.  And when she had seen the vision, we immediately tried to cross over into downtown, being convinced that God had called us to proclaim the good news to the people there.  We set sail from Bethlehem’s parking lot, and took a straight course to the steps of the U.S. Senate building, which is the leading city in the district.  The following day we went to visit an aging friend who was lonely and from there we continued on…”  Something like that?  

Sound crazy, all this talk of visions?  A little irrational?  Maybe so.  One of the saints of the last congregation I served: Betty C..  Easter finest, we had brass instruments that that Sunday, and everything was intended to be glorious, to blow the roof off.  That’s when I first changed the seats to be in the round a way of surprising, shocking everyone.  It was a shock, I thought, and great symbolism in the Christian community gathering in a circle, equidistant from one another, looking at each other…

Betty, as she appeared to me after the service was unimpressed and un-phased really by any of the shock and awe of Easter fabulous-ness.  She just says to me quietly after the service, pointing over to this overgrown plot of land, “Pastor, I had a vision:  Why don’t we have a garden over there and grow food for hungry people?”

--

Before long, we had “set sail” from a clump of dirt and weeds, took a straight course to organizing, and in several months we had crossed over to 12 small plots where fruits and vegetables and herbs grew, 6 fruit trees, 8 families, a girl scout troupe, a preschool class, our Sunday School class, and members of our community, not even affiliated with our worship on Sunday (gasp!) all planting and growing food out in that deserted spot that Betty had re-imagined.  We set sail from a clump of dirt and weeds, and now there’s a garden, a community garden...

--

Our reading from Revelation this morning says “the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations.”  Imagine the healing of the nations, friends in Christ.  It’s gotta start with a vision, with imagination.  If you could paint or draw or write a song about or act that that out—the healing of the nations—how would you do that?  For some, maybe they see the healing of the nations—in their Holy-Spirit-inspired minds’s eye—as a community garden.  

Where will our visions from God take us?    

We set sail from here...wherever “here” is for you.  Sometimes it’s not a pretty place, and we’re game for an adventure.  Other times, it’s very comfortable and beautiful and yet God calls us out of that comfort zone (that tireless Easter image).  

And look what happens to Paul and his companions!  In this story today, they are taken in!  They are taken care of!  Despite the insane risks they take, one vision and they’re off!  But they meet this woman of considerable means named Lydia.  Who offers them safety in a strange land, hospitality and welcome.  Who knew? 

Have you met any Lydias lately?  They are angels among us.  When we risk the missionary journey — whether we’re traveling downtown to help out at a soup kitchen or across the world or across the living room—when we take the risk and make the missionary journey, sometimes we’re met by Lydias — amazing people out there, ready to welcome us in, perhaps even ready to be baptized along the waters’ edge!  [pause]

And when we risk the missionary journey, oftentimes there is trouble too — resistance, threat, loss, pain, sorrow.  

But this is always where God calls us and needs us to go.  To set sail from clumps of dirt and weeds.  

The Rev. Dr. Ben Stewart, preaching prof at LSTC reminds us that we are “earth creatures”, dry clumps of dirt and weeds, but God takes us, and sets us to sail by breathing life into us.  And off we go, into this life, filled with God’s spirit/breath/wind (all the same word in Hebrew (ruach).  And look where we go!  

Where will God’s spirit/wind/breath blow you this week?  

Maybe you’ll meet a Lydia, and maybe you won’t.  But no matter what, friends in Christ, know that you will ultimately be taken in, cared for.  For you are a child of God.

Hear Jesus‘ words again from the Gospel of John: [slow] “Do not let your hearts be troubled.  Peace I give to you.”  

We set sail, because when God gives us that holy CPR, we can’t help but live with gusto, live with spirit, live with vision, live like the new Jerusalem has dropped right on top of Fairfax, Virginia.  When God gives us CPR, when God blows into us spirit/wind/breath, we can’t help but live like the Tree of Life is growing right there in our front yards. (If you have a tree or a plant in your front yard, give thanks for it, and let it be a reminder for you of the beautiful passage from Revelation.) Right there in our own house, apartment, townhouse, trailer or cabin are images of the healing of the nations.  Your home, your dwelling place is a place of God’s healing!  That’s what God breathing life into you and me does for us, it turns everything around, it raises the dead, it hydrates the dry ground, it causes fruit to grow...for healing sake.  That’s what happens when God’s vision sets us to sail.

God, through Christ, sets you to sail this day in love and forgiveness, in peace and joy.  

So off we go!  

--

Memorial Day Sunday Prayer

We praise you, eternal God, for the devoted sacrifice of your servants who have laid down their lives that we might live. Into your holy keeping we commend them and humbly pray that we, like they, may give generously and never count the cost, asking no reward except the knowledge of your abiding love.

Almighty and everlasting God, whose providence guides your people in diligent service, bless the officers and enlisted women and men of the Army, Navy, Marines, Air Force, and Coast Guard as they perform the duties of their calling. Give them not only true love of country but also love of you and an understanding of your love for all people; so that, relying upon your guidance, they may courageously defend our nation from every foe, promote justice, honor, and unity among our people, and be a means of fostering mutual respect and understanding among all peoples of the world; through Jesus Christ, your Son and our Lord.

Amen.

(adapted from ELW Prayer Book for the Armed Services)