September 27 -- Becoming *Teleios* (Pentecost 17A)

Grace to you and peace from God who creates us from the muddy clay of the earth (I was on the shores of the Chesapeake this week, beautiful muddy earth), from Jesus who bridges us from our primal separation from God because of sin, and from the Holy Spirit, who comforts us when we are afflicted, and who afflicts us when we are comfortable.  Amen.

At first glance this reading might lead us to the simple conclusion and popular aphorism that ACTIONS SPEAK LOUDER THAN WORDS.  There are two sons.  The father asks them both to go out into the field, one says he’ll go and doesn’t.  The other says he won’t and does.  Jesus makes a model of the latter.  

But, after praying and studying this text, I’m not sure
A-S-L-T-W, is really the lesson here.  


First of all, in my own experience and in the experience of many that I’ve listened too…words sometimes (not always) speak louder than actions.  It’s not pretty or fun to talk about, but the wounds from violent actions (physical abuse) can heal, but the wounds from violent words (emotional/spiritual abuse—insults that cut deep, threats, even just indifference to another’s presence or opinions) sometimes never heal.  So not only is “a.s.l.t.w.” an interpretation of this particular scripture text that I don’t agree with, it’s a saying that I don’t think is even completely accurate.     

So let me share with you a concept that flows through the entire Bible, certainly through the book of Matthew and therefore arches over this passage today...  

Teleios.  The Greek word is teleios.  And it means mature, or complete, or commonly translated as perfect.  Matthew 5:48 (be perfect even as God in heaven is perfect.) or Matthew 19:21 (Jesus said, "If you wish to be perfect go, sell your possessions, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.")  I think translating teleios as “perfect” gets us headed down the wrong path.  (I’m just full of opinions today, huh?)  “Mature” or “complete” is more like it.  The best way to think about this overarching theme of teleios is to think about it in terms of fruit.  A banana or a pear is teleios — not when it is completely free of blemishes, but  — when it is ready to eat.  When it is ripe.  When it has come to fruition or come full circle.  

So read these texts with that in mind.  “Come to fruition, even as your God in heaven has come to fruition.”  There’s more of a notion of process here, and that’s very important to remember.  

So returning to the two sons, with the concept of teleios—coming to fruition—in mind, let’s look at it again:

Jesus praises the brother who “says no” but “acts yes”…because he is engaged in the process of coming to fruition, he is ripening.  The other brother is not.  The other brother has chosen to reject the opportunity to go out and to work in the vineyard; he has refused the ripening process.  In other words, he has rejected the journey of transformation.

Siblings in Christ, God is calling us this day to engage or perhaps renew our engagement, and enter again into teleios, into the process of coming to fruition as a disciple, a follower of Jesus.  God is calling us into a journey of transformation.

Grace is empty, if the process of discipleship is not evident, if there is a refusal to ripen.  Bonhoeffer called that the “carcass of cheap grace”…If we’re not on the journey of transformation, engaged in the ripening, the coming to fruition, the maturity and completeness, the teleios...then you simply haven’t experienced God’s grace.  The church has failed you.  The pastor has failed you.  When God’s people are saying yes, but acting no, teleios has gone dormant.   

Our Gospel today calls us to the vineyard, to follow Jesus, not just to say that we believe in Jesus.  Our Gospel text for today is about coming full circle.  

One way to illustrate this text is by looking at worship—what we’re in the midst of right now.  Our faith, which is expressed here on Sunday morning, guides us into our week, bringing us to fruition, bringing us full circle.  Worship/Church is more than mere tradition, it’s more than just “what we do/say” on Sunday.

How many of you have ever participated in any sort of theater production?  Been to a dress rehearsal?

You see, worship is a dress rehearsal for Gospel living.  
Think about the purpose of the dress rehearsal:  It solidifies what we already know (lines), introduces something new (costumes), and prepares us for what’s ahead (opening night).  Bringing everything full circle.  

[look the sections at bulletin] Worship too, solidifies what we already know (in the gathering we are reminded and again we receive forgiveness of sins), introduces something new (as together we enter into the Word of God, and new light is shed on our understandings of the saving work of Jesus Christ), and through Bread and Wine, Body and Blood, the waters of the Baptismal font, we are prepared for what’s ahead, we are washed and nourished with heavenly water and food for the journey, the journey of discipleship—we are engaging in the journey of transformation, in teleios...even right now!  

And what follows worship?  What is that Sending all about (“go in peace, remember the poor,” we say today)?  Because we receive forgiveness of sins right at the beginning, flowing from the baptismal font, here in worship, we are able to forgive others during our week.  Coming full circle.  Because there is a proclamation from this Holy Book about God’s love and God’s hope on account of Jesus Christ, we are then enabled to speak words of love and forgiveness. Coming full circle.

Because justice is alive at God’s Holy Table, as all are welcome to the feast of Jesus’ own body, edible grace, then we are empowered to live out that same model of justice and compassion, welcoming and feeding the friend and the stranger alike. Coming full circle.  Because we are sent out with God’s blessing at the end of our worship service, we are filled with the task of sending others, empowering others, inviting others to follow Jesus, calling others back into the love of God…through both our words and our actions. Coming full circle.

We are not a “gathering of eagles around a carcass of cheap grace,” on Sunday mornings.  Worship for us is more than just a going through the motions each week.  Worship is a dress rehearsal for Gospel living, a modeling of God’s very will being done here on earth “as it is in heaven.”  

Here we are caught in the undertow of grace, here we are swept up in the process of coming full circle, in the ripening, in the coming to be the people God has molded us, breathed into us, redeemed us, and filled us anew to be!

You know, I went to some vineyards here in Northern Virginia recently...last week.  It was good to look out over the vineyards (and enjoy a nice blend of grapes), but I was thinking about how could I align even better my own words with my actions.  After all, we’re coming into the stewardship season, the season of giving back with joyful hearts, what God has first given us.  

And I am pondering what I might give up or take on during these days.  Not just discipleship disciplines in Lent: what kinds of faith actions can we put into practice now, in response to the grace that God has first given us?    Let’s make these a faith-moves together.  Let’s do teleios together — might look different for each of us.  Some might give up meat after seeing the impact that consumption has on the planet, others might write letters, others might try tithing, others might volunteer, or protest, or make phone calls to members of this congregation.  Words and actions lining up, you see, I’m pondering this myself, and even if I had something to share I’m not sure I’d want to roll it out here in a sermon in some grand exposition of my faithfulness...I’m praying on it...  

But if I am going to speak about compassion and justice, I have to ask how I might start to act more in that direction.

Pay attention this week to the nudgings of the Spirit, that’s how the Holy Spirit works…quiet ways.

Where is God whispering to you this week, how is that gracious and loving Holy Spirit is afflicting the comfortable areas of your life.  How is God inviting you to have your words and your actions come full circle?  How are you becoming teleios?   Because I have no doubt that God is working on you.
        
As that complicated Holy Spirit continues to nudge you, at the very same time, may God’s loving arms of mercy and peace wrap around you and fill you with all-goodness and grace, even today, even now, and forever more.  AMEN.

September 20 -- From Bitterness to Clean Hearts (Pentecost 16A)

 “Create in us clean hearts, O God, and renew a right spirit within us. Amen.”

Well, pick your analogous story to today’s fabulous, but potentially bitterness-inducing Gospel parable from Jesus:

Let’s say there’s a new hire at work, who comes on board right at the beginning of December.  And when the boss hands out the Christmas bonuses, she gets the same amount as everyone else.

Or...you’ve got the guy who gets a World Series ring, even with only 4 plate appearances with Nationals!  He still gets the exact same ring in October as those guys who showed up for Spring Training, and gave it all for the team day-in-and-day-out!  Happens all the time.

Children jumping contest — but everybody gets a trophy

We’ve had a tactile example this week...of the rain here in DC-Maryland-Virginia region — showering everyone/everything, regardless.   

And in this pandemic, what about all those who have got it better than you.  Who seem to be in a much better place with work, kids, school, time off...fabulous stories, but potentially bitterness inducing?

Or...you don’t need an analogous story: could easily just connect to this same story that Jesus tells today.  Every day, there are day-laborers, ready to work.  Not sure if this exists here but in San Diego, outside of any Home Depot, groups of men (mostly) are hanging out early in the morning with cups of coffee, hoping you might hire them for some yard work or project in the house...  
$20 for the day — that’s the equivalent to one denarius.  $20 — not much for a day’s wage, but it’s enough to feed a family that night at the dinner table — some rice and beans, maybe a small bucket of fried chicken.  So imagine a man doing some major landscape work instead of vineyard work, and he hires guys all through the day, and pays the ones he hires last, right around happy hour, the same wage he pays the guys he hired at 6am.

Any bitterness?  Are you above it?  Are you happy for the late hire-ons,  the shortest jumpers?

When you think of it in terms of providing dinner that night for the worker and his or her family, maybe it’s understood a bit little differently.  Seems to me that’s what the landlord in the parable was thinking.  This tells us about Jesus:

God is certainly interested in everyone having enough to feed their family around the table.  God is certainly interested in the community taking care of one another.  God is certainly compassionate and generous.  That’s what Jesus kicks off this whole story to say the realm of God is like...everyone having what they need, everyone having enough.

Do you hear this story and relate more to the land owner — what’s your first inclination, in terms of your perspective: are you too in a position to hire day laborers?  Or do you relate more to the workers?  Have you been or are you currently in a tight spot where you need to feed your family tonight or can barely eek out rent for this month?

My pastor colleague and friend Cyndi, who has always been an advocate for disability rights, and is in a wheelchair-scooter herself, shared with me that she doesn’t believe the ones who were hired last are lazy.  They just weren’t as physically attractive and able as the big strong ones who were hired first.  [pause]  “This is a disability gospel, you see!” Cyndi exclaims. The late-comers desperately wanted to feed their families too; they wanted to be hired all day too.  But someone else could jump higher, lift more, cut faster — offer more bang for your buck.  

“Are you envious because I’m generous?” the landowner asks the bitter ones.  There’s a perspective that I think we all may be able to share:

We can be envious of others’ blessings — those who seem to be doing better than me.   Family members and friends who seem to be doing better than me.  Co-workers who make more, parents who how have more, neighbors who show more...

As the temperatures drop (here in the mid-Atlantic regions), as the leaves start to change and drop, this is a season, an opportunity for growth and great soul searching.  God is working on you quietly, even with all the noise and energy even chaos all around, God is working on you, whispering:  

“Let go of your bitterness and resentment,” God’s words are deep down in our bones, “Stop worrying about what others are getting, and what you’re not getting.  Do you have enough to eat tonight?  I want everyone to have enough, you see?  And your anger and your bitterness is pulling you down, holding you back from being the fully human being I created you to be.  Let that stuff go, and share and love and enjoy...as I have shared and loved you — generously, freely, and compassionately.  That takes some work, I know,” says God, “but I created you to do this, so I know you’ve got it in you...I know you’ve got that clean heart...and I know I created a holy community for you to support you in this heart-tending work.”  

This is our time, friends in Christ — both to recognize God’s compassion and generosity, where everyone gets what they need, everyone gets enough, everyone gets to feed their families, roof over their head, the medicine they need, the education they need (I guess God gets quickly political here, if we’re paying attention, but if it’s God calling us to it, then food and clothing and health is literally theology).

Yes this is our time, friends in Christ — both to recognize and give thanks for God’s great compassion and generosity, and also this is our time to slow down and recognize God’s great compassion and generosity within ourselves...even and especially if its been buried.  Don’t dig it out — God’s compassion that’s in you — let it rest in you today, let it settle, like a seed in the soil:  God’s compassion grows in you, deep down, in and through us all, finally breaking the surface and bettering the world, offering beauty and food and companionship.  These are the ways God’s love is made known — through us!  In tangible, real ways — food and companionship...  Isn’t it amazing when a new tree you’ve planted turns from from a beautiful little sapling, to an actual source of shade, or a source of food, or a source of beauty...and maybe even into a companion or a friend?

That’s the kind of growth God’s got in store for us, friends in Christ.  

God has planted us, and grows us.  See what’s also happening?  Christ is both planted and planter!  Sheep and shepherd.  God is ultimately the gracious vineyard owner here, bestowing gifts of enough on all of us, no matter what time we arrived!  

Siblings in Christ, we entrust ourselves to God, who loves us, who showers us with blessings, brings us in, calls and sends us out...with enough.  With clean hearts to share our abundance, and this good news of our generous God whose name is Love.

This is a narrow way — recognizing, taking hold, and receiving God’s abundant mercy.  And today we continue down this winding, narrow way...together, singing our praise and thanks for the broadness of God’s generosity all the while.  AMEN.

September 13 -- The Country of Forgiving-ness (Pentecost 15A)

I feel like these last weeks of lessons from Matthew have been preparing us for this bombshell today.  

Forgiveness is the ultimate question.  How are you doing with forgiveness, I’ve been asking us all.  How are you doing at forgiving others; and how are you doing at the fact that you have been forgiven by others...and by God?

And just in case we want to just check off this work like another chore on our lists, Jesus blows Peter’s mind:

Peter is looking to check a box or two or twenty.  I say he wants to “one-and-done” forgiveness.  “How many times, Lord?  What form do I fill out, where do I sign?”  But Jesus calls him (and us) to see that forgiveness is not an item on a checklist, but a country.  

Jesus tells Peter not to keep score, but to immigrate to a the land of “forgiving-ness” — that’s what the  77x means.  Seven refers to wholeness, so Seventy-seven is the “wholest wholeness,” a total state of total forgiving-ness.  A new place to live.  Build your life there, Jesus says.  

We live in a tit-for-tat land, where we check items off of lists, payback and pay-up to settle accounts.  It’s hard for us to accept undeserved kindnesses — whether that’s physical gifts or compliments or favors — if someone gives me something, I want to pay it back or pay it forward or pay it off...and not feel like I owe anything to anyone.  It’s programmed deep down there in our protestant-capitalist-dog-eat-dog-scratch-my-back-I’ll-scratch-yours-work-ethic DNA.  

So it’s really hard to hear this message today.  
It’s really hard to pack up and move.  

Or even to envision this new territory that Jesus and Paul and Joseph in the Old Testament are mapping for us today, this “Commonwealth of Forgiving-ness”!
—
The brothers in that great OT story of reconciliation are still not being honest in their making amends with their brother Joseph — they try to strategize and pull at the heartstrings of Joseph and his long-lost father’s wishes (“Let’s tell him that Dad would want this…”).  

But Joseph, who definitely wasn’t perfect either, has this moment of divine intervention.  There’s no other way to describe it, like all the cases of forgiveness.   God picks Joseph up and puts him on a raft, blows a wind, and Joseph enters into the country of forgiving-ness.  Joseph blazes the trail into this new territory, into Seventy Seven:  “Have no fear, I will provide for you and your little ones.”  
And that, by the way, made it possible for his brothers to get there too.  As they embrace.  “Do not fear, God has made this for good.”  And they weep tears of joy.

Someone’s gotta venture out there, cutting through the strangler vines and thistles of resentment and past grievances and often downright evil.  The brothers, you remember, threw Joseph into a pit, left him to die decades ago.  Joseph gets pulled out by traders passing by who carry him like a commodity to sell in Egypt.  ...Lotta time for a thick forest of anger and resentment to grow.  The weeds of disdain and revenge can take over, especially as Joseph amazingly rises to power and to a position in Egypt to exact payback on any of his past abusers.

But that’s not what happens.  Someone’s gotta blaze the trail, and Joseph was the imperfect candidate God selected.  Someone’s gotta lead the expedition into the new territory.  We can’t just keep living in these swampy forests of anger and keeping tabs and holding onto debts.  
—
You must go there too.  God is picking you up today and sending you — and me.  We should to pack it up, trust God, and head out for Seventy Seven, the Commonwealth of Forgiving-ness.  
Always from the territory of sin and brokenness into the land of healing and wholeness.  

The trail has actually been maintained, by all those imperfect saints who have gone before us...in loving their enemies, in praying for those who persecute them, and forgiving their debtors.
—
This is heaven-come-down-to-earth stuff today. Do you realize that?  “On earth as it is in heaven.”  That’s what the Commonwealth of Forgiving-ness is.   It’s a territory we can inhabit here and now.  Not 7 (like a checklist) but 77 (like a country).  

Can you see it?  Especially as we start to get specific?  

As we talk about racial justice, and environmental justice, and gender justice?  How does heaven come down to earth?  Where is the embrace and the tears of joy, and God making it for good?  As we talk about Democrats and Republicans, and Fox News and MSNBC and families around the table?  And neighbors who annoy?  And leaders who betray and friends who “assume”... Where is the divine intervention?  Where is God putting you on a raft and the Holy Spirit current is carrying you to Seventy Seven?

In the Commonwealth of Forgiving-ness, you don’t have to hang onto the words your friend (or who you thought was your friend) said about you.  In Seventy Seven you can see over those trees.  You can see her as a broken child of God, hurting and in need…

The father who is an abused abuser?  Compassion and prayer blanketing the work of healing, reconciliation and peace.  Seventy Seven is no oasis.  The labor is long and daily, but not without breaks, and not without community.

And in Seventy Seven, your mistakes are completely in God’s loving hands.  You don’t have to carry them or trip over them.  You can work without that extra burden.  The pain you’ve caused others, whether intentionally or unconsciously, is lifted from your shoulders.  

And that feels so good that you invite others to come to this new land too.  And together you build sustainable housing for everyone to move to Seventy Seven.  You bake and harvest and sew and set tables, so that everyone can live in Forgiving-ness.  
—

Paul says it like this, to a community that was struggling to immigrate to Seventy Seven: “We do not live to ourselves, and we do not die to ourselves.  If we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord.  So then, whether we live or whether we die, we belong to God.”

Here’s the thing: I’m trying to paint hopefully a picture of a Land called Forgiving-ness, and invite us all there in Christian discipleship.  But what if we can’t get there?   What if we’re stuck?  What if it seems we’ll never get there?  

Friends in Christ, the welcome is always there, it is again today: the Customs gates are always wide open and anyone is free to enter Forgiving-ness at any time.  And many, many faithful ones are going!  

But even if you stay behind, you still belong to the Lord.  You already reside in God’s embrace.  AMEN.

September 6 -- The Tough Conversations and Jesus

 

Friends in Christ, Christian reconciliation — that is honest and blanketed by prayer — is really hard work.  
        Take some time this week to ponder and pray about your own experiences with reconciliation:

...where it’s failed
...where you’ve parted ways with a sibling or a partner or a parent or a church member or a friend.  
...And where it’s been good?  Reconciliation that has finally come to fruition through time (maybe years) and prayer and tough conversations.  

These five “Matthew 18” verses are probably not what we do best…
It’s a gift to be around people who do this well.  

This poignant lesson is life-giving for us all...when it’s done faithfully.    
—
When someone sins, when someone breaks covenant, breaks relationship, breaks trust, breaks the heart, breaks the community...when there is a severing, Jesus says, go to that one in-person and speak to them privately.  What’s been your experience of that, either being the one to go or the one to be approached?

Often nowadays, we use email as an alternative.  And email communicates some different messages, right?  That the recipient is only left to guess…

Maybe it’s saying...
You’ve sinned but, I don’t have time to call you or meet with you in person.  It’s not important enough for me.  
I don’t want to talk to you in person.  I don’t care about you that much.
I don’t do well speaking face-to-face.  And I certainly don’t like it.  I can put my thoughts into writing much better.
I just want to move on.  By writing this down after a glass of wine, and blasting it off to you, then I’ve said my piece, done my part, spoken my truth, and now I’m done.  I don’t even need you to respond.

I had a friend who was a pastor and promoted a practice of email as only a tool for scheduling appointments.  [pause] He broke his own rule all the time (and I know I do too), but it was a very helpful guide:  email as a tool for scheduling the face-to-face...not the venue itself.

And trying to text our way to reconciliation is kind of a trumped up version of all this, I’m afraid.  That’s why we popularly recognize and even joke about the shame and disgust in breaking up with someone by text or email, even by phone.  We know the impact of in-person conversations, and it’s one of the great losses of this COVID time:  in-person conversations are now physically a risk.  So this Gospel lesson just got even tougher.

What does email and texting have to do with our Gospel today?  It is a very down-to-earth, everyday part of how we live out our faith, how we follow Jesus (like how we pray for our lips and our tongue, every word that comes out of our mouth, let’s pray for our fingers too — what we type, the numbers we dial, and the sit-down appointments we make.)  This is everyday, specific stuff...maybe a little too close to home?  

This is again, a wake-up call from God, the “Jesus alarm clock” is ringing again.  Seems like this idea of forgiveness/reconciliation keeps coming up for us Jesus-following people!  
The church is not just a social club where people pay dues, share common interests, and when there’s a disagreement the club either breaks up or dies…

No, the church is the body of Christ.  Different people, from different walks and perspectives, from all over the community and the globe, all come to gather around the manger, the table, the words of Jesus.  Bound together — not by their own will and likes/dislikes, but — by the Holy Spirit.  And today called again to work together, as we move back out into the world.

There’s some housekeeping we always need to do before we go back out into the world.  We need to make our metaphorical beds, wash the dishes, sweep the floors:  Go to the individual, and speak privately.  Do the interior house keeping.  

Talk to one another, when things get tough.  When feelings are hurt.  When there is severing.  [Heather with the neighbor and the truck on Monique Ct.]

I’m spending a lot of time on the first part: go to the individual person who has sinned.  Hold them accountable in Christian, neighbor-love.

As I was pondering this text this week, I had this vision of a congregation that decided to suspend all programing, except for worship, for the explicit purpose of going to one another and doing the deep housekeeping of Christian communication, reconciliation work.  Who would you need to sit down with?  Who might reach out and ask to speak with you [pause] in the church, in your family, in your workplace and your community?
 
Tell the truth, Jesus says.  If that conversation is not enough, then, Jesus says, gather together with others and, in Christian love and honesty, have a larger conversation. And if and when we hear each other, we have regained one another.  There is reconciliation—one of the most beautiful and powerful moments in the human experience.  Reconciliation (talk together again).  [Would love to hear your stories sometime of reconciliations…and I hope you can remember those times in your own lives and celebrate those (times in the church community but in your families, neighborhoods and workplaces, etc.  We could have a Reconciliation Fall Festival.]

But if, after one-on-one conversation and conversation with a larger community if necessary (I’m not talking as much about that because I want to emphasize Part 1, the one-to-one.  And Part 2 is often the jump.  “We 3 or more all think [this] about your actions” is not heard as well if it was never preceded by a one-to-one, right.  Part 2 is important also, but if it skips Part 1 (the one-to-one) it violates the spirit of Holy Community.  

But, when the steps are worked — the one-to-one yields no reconciliation, and after a few have met with the individual and still, that one “refuses to listen,” the third part of Jesus’ life-giving instruction today: when conflict doesn’t result in a reconciliation or a re-gaining, but to only greater anxiety and pain...then Jesus says this: “Let that one be to you as a tax collector or a Gentile.” 

In other words, LET IT GO.  Let that individual go, yes, and there’s a sad and painful process to releasing someone from the community.  But I want to get back to these three words.  Let it go.  Release it to Jesus.  Release the whole situation to God...

This is so important.  How are you doing with letting it go?  That’s a good question to check in with one another on...

Because in addition to so many other social and psychological side-affects of not-letting-it-go, our anger, resentment, bitterness toward a person or at a community has been shown to have physical effects on our bodies—digestive problems, back aches, head aches, sexual dysfunction, ulcers...the stress kills.

Or God forbid, our hanging-on-to-it’s, our not-letting-it-go’s mean that our children or other innocent ones get the brunt of our pent-up, toxic anger and bitterness. 

Let it go, Jesus invites us, let it go.  Not a storming out, “*beep* you, I’m outta here!”, angry “I’m done with it” response, which is more of a cultural norm.  This is a different kind of letting it go, that takes prayer and Christian community and practice, practice.  Just words today, but one exercise is [breathing (grace-peace)]. 

It’s the ultimate question again:  How’s forgiveness going (hfg)?  As we move into a new school year, hfg?  As we move toward the anniversary of 9/11, hfg?  As you think back into the past here at Bethlehem, can’t pretend that they were all perfect years, hfg?  As we chat on the phone with family members and distant friends this afternoon, hfg?

“Let that one be to you as a tax collector or a Gentile.” 

Let it go…because we know how Jesus treats the tax collector and the Gentile. 

Let it go, release it to Jesus, who forgives even and especially the tax collector and the Gentile.  Release that one, and leave them to Jesus, because Christ is at the center of our letting go...when we reach our limits, honest about our frailties.  And despite the distance between yourself and the one you must release to God, we can still love, feel compassion, pray for those who persecute us...when Christ is at the center.  This is the power of God!  Loving and letting go at the very same time…and God gives you that power today!
—
One more thought:  In truth, if we’re honest, we’re all Gentiles, and so Jesus welcoming and forgiving the Gentile becomes all the more poignant.
—
This can be perhaps the most liberating and practical message we’ll hear in a long time:  First, to do the hard work of going directly and lovingly to the person or the issue…and trying in Christian love to reconcile.  If there is reconciliation, “Praise God!”  There is nothing greater.  That’s amazing grace, in flesh and bone.  The lion lies down with the lamb.  And if not, release it, and harness the power of God to continue to love despite wrong-doing, distance, evil and deep sadness.

This is where Jesus calls us, friends: down that rocky road, carrying the cross of direct and healthy and loving communication.  Not avoiding or distancing but meeting our sibling, our parent, our co-worker, our friend, our neighbor in love and longing for reconciliation.  And blanketing the whole process, however it goes, in prayer and trust in God.

Finally, Jesus knows that we cannot ultimately go to the cross, that finally we must lay our crosses down.  “Let go of your cross,” he says to us, “I’ve got it from here.  You’ve done your best.  Let me take it now, your anger, your hurt, your resentment, your bitterness.  Let me take it now, and unbind you, from all that is holding you down.  Let me take it…”

Jesus takes it.

Friends, because of Christ, we are now free, you are now free to love and serve and live.  Now you are unbound in order to be bound.  In order to be bound to this Christian community and to this world in love!

Let us pray:  Teach us, O Lord your life-giving ways.  Help us to meet and talk, and say, and do the right thing, and keep you at the center through it all.  Help us to release what we must into your care, and thank you for taking it from there.  AMEN.

August 30 -- Come, Die With Us (Pentecost 13A)

 Last week Jesus calls Peter “the Rock”.  He lifts him up, promises him the “keys to the kingdom”, says, “upon this rock I’ll build my church.”  Jesus has Peter feeling pretty good, I imagine. This week (only 8 verses later) Jesus calls Peter “Satan.”  What happened?

Peter probably wanted to take his titles and honor and blessings from Christ and just enjoy them (just for a second...just 8 verses, Jesus?); Peter wants to  “take the money and run,” so to speak.  

But then Jesus instructs Peter — and all of us — in the ways of discipleship.  This is a calling — once we acknowledge Christ as the Messiah, once we make our bold statement of faith, like Peter, this is a call — to take up our cross, this is a call to come and die.  Peter wanted to hinder that.  He wanted to block it.  “Say it isn’t so, Lord.”

I wondered about putting “Come Die With Us” on our digital sign out front. [pause]  I wonder how fast this church would grow.  

This Gospel passage from Matthew, that is before us today, is terrible marketing.  It does not make people feel good.  It’s frightening, and confusing and, frankly, not the way most people are going to choose.  “I don’t want to come die with you, Lord.  I want to enjoy the Rock, the church.  I want to enjoy the comfort of being in your presence.  I want to enjoy knowing that my soul is safe with you.  I don’t want to suffer.”

"If any want to become my followers [though],” Jesus said, “let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake [and for the sake of the Gospel] will find it.”

Christ calls us to give ourselves away for this world. [pause]

How are you, how are we, giving ourselves away for this world?  In a world and a culture that says, “No, protect yourself and your dearest ones!  Don’t give yourself away!  That’s stupid.”   

But Christ bids we come.  We give ourselves up.  And as D. Bonhoeffer wrote, “When Christ bids we come, he bids we come and die.”

[How am I doing here, btw?  As I wrote this I found myself wanting to add lots of jokes and humor to this passage.  That’s a defense mechanism.  A little sugar coating...to take the edge off.]

How is Christ calling you to lose your life, to give yourself away for the world, to take up your cross and follow him?

It always needs to be said, when we reach this passage each year, about bearing your cross, it needs to be said that your “cross to bear” is never to be the recipient of some sort of abuse.  [pause]  I interject with that, because I’ve heard and met people who say that their pastor or priest told them that they ought to be silent and bear the physical/emotional/spiritual abuse of their spouse or parent or church because that’s simply their “cross to bear”…like “Well, we all have our crosses to bear.”  Being the recipient of abuse is never someone’s cross to bear — for that is not giving yourself away for the world for the sake of the Gospel, that is not being the truest you for the world that God created you to be, and that this world, this community, this family needs you to be.  God didn’t mold us for abuse and violence — not recipients of abuse & violence and not perpetrators of abuse & violence.  Let’s all work to stop that.

Our “cross to bear” is that cross that was traced on our foreheads in our baptisms.  It was traced with oil as a symbol of a sealant.  And it gets traced again with ashes each springtime, at the beginning of Lent.  It is the cross under which we live, and under which we die.  [Do you remember that cross?  Is it still there?  Trace it again, just to make sure you know it’s there.]  
It is that cross that says we belong to Christ — it’s a branding — Christ who we boldly confess as Messiah, along with Peter.  

And having had that cross sealed on our foreheads, having made that bold confession, we now go, into the deep and pain-filled valleys of this life, into the fear, and the storms that rage all around us.  That is, back into our labor — the courtrooms, the newsrooms, the classrooms, operating rooms, the living rooms and dining rooms and bedrooms of our daily lives.  We seek out the places where there is pain, and we go there, to give ourselves away, to be agents of God’s grace.  I had a wise colleague who pointed out when we were struggling together with this text: “You know when God asks us to come and die, you can’t really die just a little bit.  When you die, you die.  It’s all or nothing.”  So when Jesus calls us to come and give our selves away, he’s asking for every part of you!  He doesn’t say, I’ll take your 1:30 minutes each week.  I’ll take whatever you have leftover in your wallet.  I’ll take—if it’s not putting you out too much—your volunteer time for my cause.  Jesus doesn’t say that!  Christ bids we give our whole selves away, that we die to the things of this world.

And maybe that means you need to rethink everything...I don’t want to shy away from that possibility.  Maybe God is calling you, or us, to rethink everything! — to re-shape our whole lives in response to Christ’s call.  That’s really frightening for those of us, who are settled, and on track.  [Dad’s experience in Norway — freedom of not having roots down, no stakes in the ground.]  Maybe God is calling you to rethink and reshape everything in your life.  Maybe it’s time for a brand NEW start, a life that is in line with God’s call to give yourself away.  Dangerous words today, on one hand.  

But I would suspect—and I know—that many of us are not thinking we’re completely off track with God’s purposes for our lives.  I would suspect that many of us have been trying to follow Christ in our daily lives...many for a long time.  

Then I would encourage you to welcome this message as a wake-up call.  Sometimes we sleep through our alarms from God.  Let this be a wake-up, “Hey, where is God calling you to give yourself away in what you do, in where you are, in who you are?”  

The church has failed somehow, I think, in talking about vocation, in talking about “having a calling” as only something pastors or professional church people get.  (Were you taught that somehow?  I hope you weren’t.)  What’s your calling/vocation?

Martin Luther said that every single person has a calling from God...from the maid scrubbing the floor, to the shoemaker.  (Those were Luther’s examples.)  God calls us all to do what we do and do it, as well as we can, for the sake of the world, to the glory of God.  [pause]  Let your dishwashing be a prayer; let your lesson-planning be a psalm; let your tile work, or your lab research or your carpentry or investment baking or your parenting or your caring for a aging parent be a hymn to God’s glory, for the sake of the world.  [pause]

Our work can be very hard — we give ourselves away in it, and today we’re given a booster shot to give ourselves away even more.  Wash dishes for someone else, give away some of your labor or your research, or your craftsmanship.  Do something creative (in the COVID world) to help care for and nurture someone else’s child or aging parent, in addition to your own.  Giving ourselves away for this world, in response to Christ giving himself away for you: this is your cross to bear.

A great task for us all, as Labor Day approaches.  God calls all of us into this holy labor.  Dangerous words today, on one hand.  But on the other hand...

Jesus promises us, that in losing our lives — in giving our lives away for the sake of the other — we actually find our selves and find our lives...

Let’s go find ourselves...for we have been found by Christ, buried with Christ.  We’ve been imbedded in God’s healing and forgiving love all along!  That cross is a tree, you see; that cross of death...is a cross of life.  Thanks be to God.  AMEN.

August 23 -- A Chip Off the Old Rock (Pentecost 12A)

At the beginning of a new school year, however new that looks this unprecedented school year, at the end of August, beginning of September...it’s time to go back to the basics.  Can’t start a new school year without going back to the basics, reviewing where you came from – your multiplication flashcards, the alphabet, the writer’s handbook, the periodic table, Gray’s Anatomy, in seminary it was the dictionary of theological terms and Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s Life Together.  

Pick your level and your discipline, but you can’t start a new year without remembering where you came from.  And this week, our lectionary texts are practically synched up with the same idea:  We can’t start anew without remembering where we came from.  It’s time to go back to the basics…back to the building rocks.  Molecules and cells.  Letters and grammar.  Numbers and formulas.  Theories and cases.

And today in church:  Who we are and whose we are.  Where we have come from…and then who is this Jesus?

Our first church lesson from Isaiah calls us, especially in times of trial, to “look to the rock from which you were hewn, the quarry from which you were dug.  Look to Abraham your father and to Sarah who bore you.”

Siblings in Christ, we are called back to the basics this late date in August: we are called to remember that we all come from the same rock.  What an image:  God shaped us and molded us from a common rock, dug us up and breathed into each of us.  We trace our ancestry of faith back to Abraham and Sarah, back to Adam and Eve, back to the very hands of God.  “Look to the rock from which you were hewn.”  The mighty fortress, who is our God.

How…we…can…forget…that we came from God.  How we can run and hide, and deny and evade.  And joke.  How our memories can be short-term, tracing our ancestry of faith back only one or two generations (back to Pennsylvania or Iowa or Sweden or Puerto Rico or Sierra Leone)…but not hundreds and thousands of generations.  

But let’s get back to the basics today: It is the Living God who chiseled away at our being, and who continues to chisel away at us, who dug us out of the dirt and gave us this holy life, this sacred earth, and who continues to dig us out of the quarry: out of our despair, our guilt, our brokenness and our sorrow.  It is the living God who refashions, remolds us, puts us back together (i.e. remembers), breathes into us new life again, and now, today, sets us free.  It is the living God who set the heavens in their places and filled the seas with creatures.  [We can start sounding like psalmists when we go back and start reflecting on the basics!]

May we be psalmists this week as we begin anew, even if you’re not getting back into the virtual classroom, like our children and teachers will be very soon, may we be like little psalmists singing God’s praises and wondrous deeds with our thoughts and actions.  We have been resuscitated by the living God, brought to life again and now again!
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And now, having been brought back, this God asks us a question.  “Who do people say that I am?” Jesus probes his followers.

Kind of a timeless question.  People are still talking about Jesus today, saying/writing who he is, or who he is not, or at least who he was.  [Albert Schweitzer] Pick your context and your camp, and off you can go with things to say about Jesus.  I think many, many people in our post-Christendom, post-modern American culture today believe that Jesus was just a prophet, like the disciples said, just a radical activist—who was executed for advocating love of the poor and the outcast, violating Jewish laws and undermining Roman authorities.  Compelling stories, but he lived long ago, and is pretty much irrelevant today, other than being yet another inspirational role model who we could never fully imitate.  [Temple of Self Realization in Malibu]  

Others think he was just a super-nice pastor who wants to be your best friend in spirit.  Not so sure about how radical his activism was, the point of Jesus, some say, is just to have a personal relationship with you.  “I just want to be with you.”  I had some friends that used to call that “Jesus is my boyfriend” theology.  
If you can replace the word “boyfriend” for “Jesus” in your songs or your prayers, and it starts to sound like a love song, you might be in danger of “Jesus is my boyfriend” theology.  “I just want you to be with me, Jesus.  I just want you all to myself, Jesus.  Don’t leave me, Jesus.”  Where, it’s only about a personal relationship.

Meanwhile I had a professor in seminary who really disliked the song, “What a Friend We Have in Jesus” because he thought it had misled generations of Christians to shortchange the Church’s confession about who Jesus is.  (Peter didn’t confess Jesus as his friend.)  Of course Jesus is a friend, and I don’t mean to undermine or make light of that relationship.  But as disciples of the One who came to earth to take on our flesh—who ventured through the pain-filled valleys of our existence, offering both life-giving healing and life-changing challenges, who suffered death, not just for his friends but for this whole world, and then rose from the dead to have the last word over death and evil—we must stand and confess a whole lot more than “he’s just my special friend” or just an inspirational figure in history!  Amen?

Friends in Christ, we join with Peter, and confess Jesus as the Messiah, the anointed one—THE ONE, sent from God, AND YET VERY GOD, God from God, Light from Light, True God from true God (as the old Nicene Creed helps give us words for what is beyond words).  

Sisters and brothers in Christ, we join with Peter, and go back to the basics today, as we too confess Jesus, the rock of our salvation, yes friend, yes radical activist for the poor and the outcast, yes Son of the Living God, yes God in the flesh before our eyes in this Word, in this Holy Communion, in these holy waters of Baptism!  In you.  Yes Jesus lived long ago, and yes Jesus lives now.  

Our confession is great, like Peter’s.  And in making this bold confession that we do, do you know what we become?  

A chip of the old block.

A chip off the old block is what we are, people of God!  A chip off the old ROCK.  A chip off the old rock that is God.  We are a chip off of God.  Broken and shared for the sake of the world, that’s what we are: fractured and forgiven, but sent out for many.  [Imperfections on the rock you’re holding? Fractured and forgiven.]

Siblings in Christ, lest we forget who we are and from whence we come:  WE ARE THE CHURCH, THE BODY OF JESUS CHRIST, and we’re about to chip off into this world!  That’s not a bad thing!

Peter’s confession becomes our confession, and so Jesus is beyond just friendly, relevant or inspirational:  Jesus is necessary!  For without him, for us who are of his flock, his disciples, his followers, we have no life…

Without him, we have no life.  Our life is in Christ.  That’s lesson number one, back to the basics.  Except this is more than a lesson, this is a gift!  And this gift is ours for free!  Nothing you can do to earn it, or precede it, for that matter.  All we can do is accept it.  All we can do is put out our hand and receive it.  God’s grace, life in Christ, poured out for you.  Let’s start with that.
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And so now what?  God’s done the work, given the gift, now we just get to be the church.  And Paul’s letter to the Romans speaks to this and gives us further instruction:  “Present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God.  Don’t be [chiseled, molded into the ways of] this world, but [continue to be chiseled by God], be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God.”

Is it God’s will that children go hungry or get separated from loved ones...or is God chiseling away at us when we see that?  That refugees be rejected?  That species go extinct and air polluted, that communities suffer with illness and isolation, that wars drag on?  Is it God’s will that you continue to live in fear, burdened by anger, guilt, sorrow, or resentment?  Or is God chiseling away at us?  Molding us, fashioning us to be a chip of the old block that is God.

Friends in Christ, BACK TO THE BASICS: we are the church, and God is still chiseling.  Still working, still calling us, molding us, still tapping away at this world…

Sculpting a way for peace…the peace that passes all human understanding.  Praise be to Jesus, the Messiah.  AMEN.          

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Our hymn of the day is “Goodness is Stronger than Evil” — back to the basics, and yet, far from elementary, it’s the heart of our faith, and it carries us.  These words come most directly from the pen of Archbishop Desmond Tutu, who cuts through the static, and all the ugliness of apartheid and racism, and gets at the heart of the matter.  The melody comes from a Christian monastic-style community on an island in Scotland called Iona.  A composer in that basic and harsh setting—rocks, wind, sea, sky—set the Archbishop’s powerful words to music for us to sing.

August 16 -- Preaching Up Here, Living Down There (Pentecost 11A)

Especially when our kids were younger than they are now, there were some words in our house that we just didn’t say.  This is still true to some extent, but they’ve learned and understand a lot more now.   But back in the day when they were little…we taught our Micah and Katie that they are words we don’t say under our roof:  We don’t say hate.  “But Daddy other people say ‘hate’ all the time,” Micah questioned, “and my teacher said it’s not a bad word.”  That may be true, Micah, but we don’t use that word.  We don’t say ‘stupid’.  And we don’t say ‘idiot’.  We don’t say ‘shut up’.  And we don’t say ‘fat’, either.  

Somehow, Heather and I in all our parental omniscience from up here came to the conclusion that canceling these words out of our household vocabulary is good thing down there.

The problem is, when we slip.  When I’m watching a Cubs baseball game and blurt out, “Uh, I hate AJ Perzinski!”  When I’m reading the newspaper in the living room, while Katie is doing her homework in the kitchen, and suddenly I completely lose all awareness of where I am, and shout “I can’t believe it!  This guy’s an idiot; I wish he would shut up!  He so stupid, I hate him.”   OK...a bit of hyperbole there.  But you know I slipped up...

And in each of these circumstances we/I then had to engage in the tricky parental activity of explaining ourselves, probably apologizing, maybe making amends or exceptions, but always-always including an affirmation that they’re right, “You’re right, I shouldn’t have said that.”  I said we shouldn’t say those words, and here I am saying them myself...  

Great is your faithfulness to what we said, Micah.  Great is your faithfulness to what we said, Katie.  But here we are: sloshing about.  

It’s one thing to preach it.  It’s something much different to live it.  Good teaching can trickle down from up here.  But great faith sloshes around down there.  

Our Gospel passage today starts out with some great teaching from up here:  Jesus again is crumbling up the Pharisees’ neatly sliced world…this time with a lesson on purity.  It’s not what goes into the mouth that’s unclean.  It’s what comes out of it.  Words.

But Jesus isn’t just teaching us not to swear.
 
Let’s not get too caught up with just bad words like stupid or idiot or fat, and whole bunch of others that unfortunately we all know.  

I’ve known people who “swear like sailors” (some of them are sailors...and have hearts of gold.  [pause]  Their words might be foul but their hearts burn with purity.  Their intentions are compassionate.  Maybe you’ve known people like this too.  While others, proud of their purity and squeaky clean mouths, shoot daggers and explode gossip with their curse-less words.  Sure we should watch our language, but Jesus isn’t teaching us here not to swear.  

He’s teaching about heart surgery.  

The heart, you see, in that culture, was understood to be the source our thoughts and our decisions about how to live in the world.  Jesus is teaching us about slicing away all that harms us and our neighbors and our world.  That’s a good teaching from up there.

But it’s one thing to preach it.  It’s something much different to live it.  The story goes on, in our text today, and it says that Jesus left his pulpit.  He left that place and went away to a different region.  He left the pureness-of-heart-lecture notes on the stand, came down to another region, and this is where it gets sloppy, sloshes around:

A woman approaches, who is not from his tribe.  A strange woman, a Syro-phoenician.  Jesus grew up a neighborhood where such women were despised.

  
They were hated, stupid, idiots who needed to shut up, who were always encroaching on his people – the real chosen Jews, not these half-bred aliens.  Do you see what’s happening here?

And so, Jesus – JESUS, the prince of peace, the one who just got done preaching about purity of heart – calls her a dog:  “It’s not fair to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs.”  A dog!  Do you know how dirty dogs were then?  Not adorable, housebroken, little pooches that we bless when we do the Blessing of the Animals...dogs as glimpses of God.  No, dogs back then were mangy, flee-bitten mutts, that were as irritating as flies.  And calling a person a dog, that as offensive as a white person calling a black person a word that we won’t even print in the paper.  A dog, he calls her.  

It’s one thing to preach it.  It’s something much different to live it.  

What do we do with this text where our precious Jesus himself is falling for the same old racial slurs, the same old arrogance, the same old self-righteousness, the same old divisions, the same old hatred that has plagued generations and cultures throughout history, and still plagues us today?!  Words escalate to threats; and threats to violence; and violence to wars.  There’s nothing new there.

This is a side of Jesus, that many are tempted either to ignore, or rationalize away, or defend…as if the Savior of the world needed saving.  I can’t explain Jesus out of this offense, out of his calling this woman a dog.

But I can share with you what I see happening, ultimately:  [sloppiness, thanks be to God, even if we don’t want sloppiness—and none of us do, we want neat and tidy, clear cut, like the Pharisees, where life is a set of rules to keep and roles to fill.  But the gift is sloppiness.]  I see Jesus, fully Divine and fully human, coming down from on high…to be in the mix of it all.   Good teaching can trickle down from up there.  But great faith sloshes around down here.  It’s one thing to preach it, it’s another thing to live it.

And in this case, God surprises us again, as a Syrophoenician woman, calls Jesus out.   Watch how she responds; not by hitting back; not by going away:  “Yes Lord,” she says, “but even the dogs eat the bread from the master’s table.”  I might be a dog, but I’m still hungry.  I’m broken alright, which is why I need the bread that only you can give.  She doesn’t fight back with hateful words, and she doesn’t back away either.  

She stands up strong and demonstrates faith.  She makes a statement of faith:  Only you, Jesus, offer the bread that I need, the healing that I need, the salvation which you have prepared.

And something must have snapped in Jesus, for immediately his tone changes and then he affirms her.  (Forget the tricky explaining, like when my child catches me using a word that’s off limits—I can’t explain that.)  We’ll just have to jump to the affirmation.  “Woman, great is your faith.” In a way, I’m not sure who’s helping/forgiving/blessing who.  What is clear, is that Jesus is with her.  Not up there.  He’s in the mix, down here as sloppy as it all can.

And that’s the heart of the Gospel.

Sisters and brothers in Christ, it’s not always neat and clean unfortunately, but we have a Christ who gets close, who plunges into the mix.

We have a Christ who kneels down, who takes our hand and we take his.  We have a God who doesn’t stay up there, but who always enters into the sloshiness of life down here.  Good teaching can trickle down from up there.  But great faith sloshes around down here.  

It’s one thing to preach it.  And I pray daily that we can preach a good thing up here, up at the church.  (But we/I don’t always—sometimes the preacher’s words from up here are winded, or fake, or confusing or sometimes just wrong.)  Good teaching and preaching can trickle down from up here.  But the real action is down there, down in our living rooms and kitchens and basements, down in our offices and stores and on the roads.  Great faith is down there, sloshing around.  And man, it sloshes, it’s sloppy, and messy and soggy.   It ain’t easy— this practice of purity of heart, this discipline of choosing words of compassion not violence.  It ain’t easy staying in touch with each other, in relationship with one another and with the stranger and with the world.  It ain’t easy, remaining faithful, coming back, giving ourselves to the rhythms of the church and nudgings of the Spirit.  And as soon as I’m finished preaching up here, I’m right back down there, sloshing around…and thank God we slosh around together.

And thank God we slosh around with Jesus, who enters the sloppiness of this life and stays, maybe even more than we wanted.  Who banters back and forth with us, albeit sometimes a struggle.  Who names and commends our great faith:  “Women, great is your faith.  Men, great is your faith.  All siblings in Christ, great is your faith. Remember that I’m down here with you, and I’ll never leave.”   AMEN.
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HoD: ‘O God Why Are You Silent’ from the Lament section of our hymnal.  Woman calling Jesus out, asking for what we need.  Great is her faithfulness and ours too as we sing this with our hearts, and demand Christ’s healing in our lives and our world.  And Christ responds.