Easter Sunday

Luke 24:1-12

“Jesus Is Risen!”

That is the Easter message we hear spoken in the empty tomb when the women arrive there with their burial spices.

When they find the tomb open and empty, the confusion and doubt they had carried with them through the sabbath only deepened. After all they had seen Jesus die and, after the crucifixion, they had followed Joseph and watched when he opened the tomb and set Jesus’ body in it. Their teacher and Lord was dead but they knew what was expected when death came. They understood the ritual, the steps to follow and the tasks to complete to honor the dead.

But now two men are standing beside them and asking them,

Why are you looking for the Living One in a cemetery? He is not here, but raised up. Remember [what] he told you when you were still back in Galilee…?[i]

Luke says the women remembered and returned to tell the other disciples what they had seen and heard, but the others dismissed their report as nonsense, an “idle tale,” or delirious babbling.

We share their disbelief, don’t we? After all, that isn’t how death works in our experience. A person dies, their body is buried and the grave is sealed. The end. Anything else is a storyline out of “The Walking Dead” or a zombie apocalypse.

But resurrection is not a miracle to be proven with historical evidence or scientific proof. It is our reminder that God’s ways are not our ways.

Whenever we hear about the suffering that is happening in our world and hear news of fresh terror and violence it is difficult for us to believe the promise of the Resurrection, that evil does not win and death is not the end.

So, on Easter morning, we gather to hear the story again and remember that the Easter message is not nonsense or an idle tale. Like the women at the empty tomb, we remember the Word that God has spoken to us:

the Living One is not found among the dead, the relics and detritus of the past, the ashes and rubble of our lives or in the depths of our despair.

Jesus is risen and leads us out of those places.

With the Easter proclamation that “Jesus is Risen” we are invited into new life with the One who is our Living Savior, our Redeemer and Hope and we are offered a new beginning.[ii]

We are invited into the resurrection life, finding our way through the world’s “No’s” to God’s “Yes” [iii] where we experience healing, forgiveness, wholeness and restoration:[iv]

• Healing is found in accepting the gracious service of those around us and being comforted that we are not alone in our suffering;
• Forgiveness is found in the reconciliation of broken relationships that dispels hate and ends the divisions that separate us;
• Wholeness is found in the recognition that God sees every one of us as we are — nothing is hidden — and calls us beloved children, even in our disbelief and doubt;
• And restoration is found in knowing that our sin, known and unknown, is forgiven and nothing separates us from the love of God.

Practicing resurrection means recognizing the places in our lives where we need to experience a new beginning and where we are empowered to offer new beginnings to those around us.

Practicing resurrection means opening our eyes to see, our ears to listen and our hearts to love.

Practicing resurrection frees us to participate in the new beginning God is creating and witness to the world the Truth that, indeed, “Jesus is Risen! Alleluia! Alleluia!”

Thanks be to God!

[i] Luke 24:5-6, The Message
[ii] The Rev. Michael Marsh. “Resurrection, The First Day Stories of our Life – An Easter Sermon on Luke 24:1-12. Interruptingthesilence.com, accessed 4/19/2019.
[iii] Sundays and Seasons Day Resources.
[iv] “Luke”, Enter the Bible. Luther Seminary. http://www.enterthebible.org/newtestament.aspx?rid=4, accessed 4/20/2019.

Maundy Thursday

Exodus 12:1-14

Throughout Holy Week our worship is a retelling of the events of the last week before Jesus was crucified. Luke tells us that after teaching each day in the Temple, at night Jesus went and slept on the Mount of Olives. (Luke 21:37) On Palm Sunday, we heard how he entered Jerusalem from there, and tonight is Maundy Thursday, named for the mandatum, or command, that Jesus gives his disciples in John’s Gospel “to love one another as I have loved you.”

But, unlike John’s gospel, none of the synoptic gospels — Matthew, Mark and Luke —have Jesus speak that command or wash the feet of his disciples. Instead, the focus in these gospels is the Passover meal that is shared between them.

The modern Passover meal or seder is not the same meal that Jesus ate with the disciples; many of the foods that are eaten and the traditions that shape that ritual today developed after the destruction of the Temple, more than forty years after Jesus’ crucifixion. Even so, understanding the Jewish Passover helps us understand the words that Jesus speaks at the Table in tonight’s gospel.

When Israel was living in slavery in Egypt under the rule of the Pharaoh, Moses and his brother Aaron went to the ruler and tried to negotiate freedom, and Pharaoh refused. Nine plagues struck the Egyptians but Pharaoh’s heart remained hardened. Then, on the night before a tenth plague struck, the Israelites were instructed to smear blood on their doorposts and lintel, and they were promised that the Lord would pass over them as he struck down the Egyptians.

The next day, Israel was delivered from slavery and, in the millennia since, the Jewish people have commemorated the exodus in the Passover meal that is described in our reading tonight. In this meal that is shared with friends and family, they retell the story of God’s deliverance, eating foods that symbolize different events in the biblical narrative, celebrating the day as a festival to the Lord and remembering the events throughout generations.

Tonight’s reading from Exodus Chapter 12 details how to prepare the Passover meal, and in the Hebrew, in verse 6, the writer’s words are, “It will be for you.” These are the same words we hear Jesus say when he tells the disciples his body is given, and the new covenant in his blood is poured out, for you. (Luke 22:19-20) God provides the gift of salvation — protection from death —for each one of us.

The liturgy of the Passover makes worshipers participants in God’s saving activity. Our liturgy of Holy Communion also renews our participation in God’s saving activity. In Holy Communion, we celebrate God’s Word, or promise of forgiveness of sin, joined with the earthly elements of wine and bread and the command to “do this for the remembrance of me.”

But the task of remembering is not passive.

Returning to the Exodus text, did you hear how Israel was instructed to eat their meal? (verse 11) The Lord said,

11 This is how you shall eat it: your loins girded, your sandals on your feet, and your staff in your hand; and you shall eat it hurriedly. It is the passover of the LORD.

As scholar Christopher Hays writes, “[God’s people] are commanded to be ready, at any moment, to move with God.”[i]

This meal isn’t a prolonged wedding feast with liters of wine, and it isn’t merely comfort food shared in thanksgiving. In this meal, we are both protected from death, which is separation from God, and we are given food for the baptismal journey which we are living.

This meal prepares us to give ourselves to the world.

As joyful as coming to this Table is, participating in this meal means taking a risk.[ii] Just as God delivered Israel, God delivers us and God expects us to be on the move and ready to follow Jesus when we’ve been fed.

We are invited to the meal but not just the meal; we are invited to life together. At the table we are bound to our brothers and sisters, and our welfare — our whole lives —are connected to one another. In his essay “Freedom of a Christian”, Luther wrote, “A man does not live for himself alone, …but lives also for every man on earth.”[iii]

There isn’t any expectation that we will follow Jesus perfectly. Judas, who betrays him, is at this table, and later on this same night, the disciples who shared bread and wine with Jesus flee when he is arrested. But God invites us anyway.

Tonight, as you come to be fed, know that Jesus “eagerly desires” to share in this holy meal with you. Hear the invitation not just to come and eat; but, quoting Luther again, to “give [yourself] as a Christ to [your] neighbor, just as Christ offered himself to you.”[iv]

Let us pray…
Holy God,
We remember Your mighty acts throughout history;
with thanksgiving we remember that by Your saving grace through Your Son Jesus You move us from sin to reconciliation, giving us the gift of salvation and new life,
that we would live, not for ourselves, but for the world.
Nourish us tonight at this Table and send us out guided by Your Holy Spirit to take risks for the sake of the world.
Amen.

[i] Bartlett, David L.. Feasting on the Word: Year C, Volume 2: Lent through Eastertide . Presbyterian Publishing Corporation. Kindle Edition.
[ii] Amy-Jill Levine. Entering the Passion of Jesus.
[iii] Martin Luther. “Freedom of a Christian.” Three Treatises. 301.
[iv] Luther. 304.

Sunday of the Passion

Luke 22:14-23:56

In 2001, a man named Charlie Todd launched a comedy collective “Improv Everywhere” in Manhattan, arranging “scenes of chaos and joy” that erupt all across the city. In one of their projects an enthusiastic woman in a marching band uniform solicited passersby to lead a parade, and while some declined, those who took the baton were then joined by a contingent of marching band musicians, playing instruments and following them wherever they were led. The spectacle of the crowd was jubilant.

When I hear the story of Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem, even in today’s Lukan account that skips the palms and hosannas, what I hear first is joyful exuberance, the kind of high emotion that makes your face hurt from smiling so widely. The crowd was roiling with the anticipation of seeing the man whom they’ve heard stories about, the hope of seeing him “perform” miracles, and the energy gained from simply being in a crowd.

But that’s not all that’s happening in the crowd that meets Jesus.

Marcus Borg, a theologian and scholar who wrote about the historical Jesus in a number of books including one titled The Last Week, described what was taking place that day. It was the beginning of the week of Passover, the “festival that celebrated the Jewish people’s liberation from” Pharaoh who had enslaved the people of Israel centuries earlier.

The Roman governors of the region lived nearer to the Mediterranean coast, but they regularly traveled to Jerusalem for the major Jewish festivals. Proceeding down the western Watershed Ridge, Pilate and the imperial army would have approached Jerusalem in a mighty procession with armored foot soldiers, the cavalry on horses, weapons, banners and all the sounds of a conquering army.[i]

In contrast, Jesus approached from the opposite side of Jerusalem, from the eastern Mount of Olives, riding into the city on a borrowed colt and people lining the way into Jerusalem spread their coats on the road ahead of him. These people had chosen to come and honor Jesus at his parade and reject the imperial power that sought to rule over them.

In April 2012, 40,000 people showed up in front of the courthouse in downtown Oslo, Norway to sing a children’s song. Their presence and their song were their response to a national tragedy that had happened the summer before when a man had killed 77 people.

When the accused killer made a bizarre claim during his trial that the country’s children were being brainwashed by the popular children’s song “Children of the Rainbow” two women committed to take the song back. They organized an invitation to a sing-along that went viral, and at twelve o’clock on the appointed day, the country stopped to sing. [ii]

The people who sang that day were not trying to entertain or provide a distraction; that day the crowd was rejecting the claim of the criminal who had caused so much grief, rebuking the violence they had witnessed, and confessing, “We’re all in this together.”

As the story of Jesus’ passion, his arrest and trials, and his crucifixion unfold through the events of this week, the darker and more dangerous power of crowds is revealed.

There is a thin line between intense love and hate, and the power of a crowd can shift quickly from exuberance and hope to danger and destruction, fed by our baser “instincts that favor self-preservation over the welfare of others.”[iii]

The crowds who were there when Jesus entered Jerusalem appear again when the elders and chief priests who had him arrested and taken to Pilate for trial. Trying to reason with the crowd, Pilate tries to acquit Jesus three times; he says he cannot find any basis for their accusation and then he announces he has examined him and not found him guilty, and finally, he tells them that he has no ground for the sentence of death.

But Luke’s account tells us that the crowd continued their urgent demands and “their voices prevailed.” (23:23) The crowd prevailed — not justice, not the gospel and certainly not God.

The passion narrative is an indictment against every one of us. It sometimes has been used wrongly and anti-Semitically to condemn the Jews and Israel for their rejection and execution of Jesus, but in Luke’s gospel, “Jerusalem” should be understood as “the whole world.” The responsibility extends to all humanity.

Every one of us is part of the crowd who cheers for the Messiah one day and then jeers at Jesus from the courtyard; every one of us shouts “Crown Him” one day and then hollers “Crucify Him!”

As we enter into this Holy Week we are called to ponder what it means for us to own a share of what happened to Jesus.

It does not matter that we weren’t present or even alive, when Christ was crucified. As surely as our faith stands on the shoulders of those who went before us, we are complicit. 

In our Lutheran understanding, by original sin and human frailty, we are sinners, and we contribute to the evil and violence that is perpetrated in the world even if our hands don’t get dirty. In our self-centeredness, we put our own interest over the welfare of others.

This Lenten Season we have focused on returning to God with all our heart, repenting with confession on our lips. So, let us ask ourselves: When has our love turned to hatred? When have we denied Christ to save ourselves from embarrassment or persecution? When have we ignored someone who needed our compassion to save ourselves the hassle? These are the questions we must carry with us as the shouts of Hosanna fade, the soldiers’ swords clatter on Thursday and the sun’s light fails on Friday.

Thankfully, through it all, the Good News we hear from Jesus from the cross is that just as surely as we have sinned, we are forgiven. God who loves us is merciful and pours out abundant grace upon us.

Let us pray…
Merciful God,
Thank you for the passion of Your Son Jesus who emptied himself on the cross and forgiving the crowds, forgives us for our sin, known and unknown, giving us new life to live as witnesses to your abundant love and forgiveness.
Accompany us in this Holy Week as we experience the journey into Jerusalem and witness our Lord’s arrest and crucifixion, even as we look ahead to the celebration of the resurrection.
Empower us by Your Spirit to go out into the world rejoicing when there is reason to celebrate, defiant when we must stand for justice, and repentant when we fail to do so.
We pray in the name of your Son Jesus.
Amen.

[i] Marcus Borg. The Last Week. 2-3.
[ii] “Can Crowds Celebrate As A Form Of Protest?”, TED Radio Hour, NPR. https://www.npr.org/templates/transcript/transcript.php?storyId=152871050, accessed 4/13/2019
[iii] John Seabrook. “Crush Point”, The New Yorker. 1/30/11. Accessed 4/13/2019.

Fifth Wednesday in Lent

We continue reading tonight from Paul’s letter to the Philippians with Chapter 3, verses 4b through 14 and I am reading from the English Standard Version translation:

If anyone else thinks he has reason for confidence in the flesh, I have more: 5 circumcised on the eighth day, of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of Hebrews; as to the law, a Pharisee; 6 as to zeal, a persecutor of the church; as to righteousness under the law, blameless. 7 But whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ. 8 Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ 9 and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith— 10 that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, 11 that by any means possible I may attain the resurrection from the dead.

12 Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect, but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. 13 Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, 14 I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.

The Word of the Lord.
Thanks be to God.

In this portion of his letter to the church in Philippi, Paul begins by offering what is sometimes called a “humble brag.” In seven concise statements, Paul presents his credentials: he is a member of God’s covenant people; an Israelite by birth; a descendant of one of the faithful tribes; a son of Hebrew parents; a strict observer of the Law; a zealot for God; and blameless.[i]

And while his speech may sound arrogant to us, Paul is using language that his hearers would have recognized, a kind of cultural currency that would have been important to them. In the same way that I would introduce our North Carolina synod bishop by saying that he is a cradle Lutheran who grew up at St. John’s in Salisbury, graduated from Chapel Hill and most recently served at Redeemer Lutheran Church in Atlanta before his election as our bishop, Paul lists his qualifications to bear witness to the church.

But then he surprises us all because he says that even though these are the facts, they are not the things that carry value and worth for him; they are not the things in which he store his identity or his faith. Paul writes that these things are nothing more than σκύβαλα (v 3:8) or sewer trash.

Writing about this chapter of Paul’s letter in Because of This I Rejoice, Methodist pastor and author Max O. Vincent describes how years ago he took down what he called his “I Love Me” wall. That’s his name for the wall in his office where he had hung his credentials — framed diplomas and awards — so that whoever came to meet with him would be impressed.[ii] He doesn’t go so far as to call them dung, which is the meaning of the Greek word in the text, but in their place he has hung artwork from the children of his congregation and a crucifix that he says “remind him to be a human, to be a fellow pilgrim on the path of discipleship, and to look for hope in the most unlikely places.”[iii]

In Paul’s letter he invites us to step out of a threshold where the past is clearly visible and strive for what lies ahead.

In the “bracketology” that led up to the seeding for the NCAA men’s basketball tournament, even as experts described how the University of Virginia Cavaliers had won 35 of their 38 games this past season, the pall of the season-ending defeat in round 1 of the 2018 tournament overshadowed anything they had accomplished this year. After all, they had been the unexpected phenom the year before, ascending into the Top 25, winning the ACC championship and earning the overall #1 seed for the tournament before they fell in the first round to the #16 seed University of Maryland Baltimore County with a dramatic twenty-point loss. So when this year’s tournament opened and UVA faced Gardner-Webb in the first round, the Cavs were standing on a threshold between what was behind them and what was ahead.

Remembering that thresholds are both exits and entrances, Duke Divinity School professor Susan Eastman describes the threshold that Paul describes in his letter as a “cruciform” threshold, a place where we leave behind the past, forgetting whatever is there and discover “our life, our purpose, our identity” in Christ.[iv]

Often we think our identity is bound up in the past but, in Christ, we are called to slough off the past. And while stories about the transforming power of faith frequently focus on people who have hit bottom in some way, experiencing a failed relationship or business, an illness or addiction, or like the Cavs, a team that lost everything, Paul reminds us that even when we have “made it” in the world, it counts for nothing.

That doesn’t make any sense at all in a world where credentials remain the cultural currency in many places and the judgment of a person’s worth is still based on their title or position, degree or affiliation. But the gospel is counter-cultural and Paul instructs us to define ourselves by the grace we have received in Christ.

Luther, too, teaches in his Small Catechism that, lost and condemned, we are redeemed by Jesus and “cannot by [our] own reason or strength believe in Jesus Christ, [our] Lord.” It cannot be said more plainly: our score-keeping is garbage. This shouldn’t be news to us, but it is Good News for us!

If you didn’t follow March Madness after Chapel Hill and Duke fell, or if you don’t watch basketball, UVA managed to advance through every round of this year’s tournament. They kept focused on the prize and didn’t let the critics, on the broadcasts or in their own heads, beat them. And on Monday night, they won their first-ever NCAA Championship in overtime to take home the trophy and the title.

The upward call and prize that Paul writes about isn’t accompanied by trophies or parades.  He calls Christ-followers to strive for what is ahead, forgetting what is behind, and placing our confidence in the cross and the power of Christ’s resurrection for our identity and our purpose that we might enjoy now and always the fullness of life lived in Christ.

Let us pray…
Holy God,
We give you thanks for Your Son Jesus whose life, death and resurrection shows us the power of faith to make a way where there is no way.
By Your grace alone You redeem us and make us Your children.
Give us courage to press on, counting all as loss except what we have in faith in Christ.
Instead of keeping score, teach us to keep faith that we would be witnesses of your love and mercy in all we do and say.
We pray in the name of Your Son Jesus.
Amen.

[i] Elizabeth Shively. “Commentary on Philippians 3:4b-14.” WorkingPreacher.org. Luther Seminary.
[ii] Max O. Vincent. Because of This I Rejoice. 96.
[iii] Vincent. 97.
[iv] Susan Eastman. . “Commentary on Philippians 3:4b-14.” WorkingPreacher.org. Luther Seminary.

Fifth Sunday in Lent

Isaiah 43:16-21

At the beginning of Lent, we heard how Jesus was “led up by the Spirit into the wilderness.” (Matthew 4:1) When I think of wilderness areas, I picture towering virgin forests filled with rich flora and fauna, but, in Scripture, “wilderness” is always “an uncultivated or uninhabited place.” And because the biblical story is situated in Egypt, Israel and modern Jordan, Lebanon and Syria, a more accurate image of wilderness is the desert — arid, barren land where shade trees are scarce and where rivers are less common than wadis, ravines or channels that are dry except during the rainy season.

This is the landscape of the biblical story. Especially in the Hebrew text, in what we call the Old Testament, “wilderness” is used to describe all the desolate places that are filled with danger and where our enemies wait for us.

But the biblical story also describes wilderness as places where God shows up:

In Genesis, when Abram had a son with the slave Hagar and the boy goes and lives in the wilderness, “God is with the boy.” (Genesis 21:20)

In Exodus when Moses, Aaron and Miriam led the Israelites out of Egypt and into the wilderness, the Lord provided the people with manna, feeding them so that would not go hungry. (Exodus 16)

In Deuteronomy when Moses is addressing the Israelites before they enter Canaan, he tells them, “in the wilderness, the LORD your God carried you, just as one carries a child, all the way that you traveled until you reached this place.” (Deuteronomy 1:31)

And the prophet Nehemiah recalls the Lord’s generosity to the Israelites, saying, “your great mercies did not forsake them in the wilderness….You gave your good spirit to instruct them, and did not withhold your manna from their mouths, and gave them water for their thirst. (Nehemiah 9:19-20)

So the wilderness is both a challenging place filled with the unknown and things we may fear,
and a place where God goes before us, accompanies us and provides for us.

In our reading from Isaiah this morning, our Creator God says,

I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.

These verses are found in the fifteen chapters that are called Second Isaiah, a portion of the book which dates to 540 BCE, just at the moment the Persians overtook the Babylonians.

The historical divisions maintained by scholars identify the first thirty-nine chapters as First Isaiah and attribute that section to the prophet Isaiah who was in the Assyrian Empire in the 8th century BCE. Like the other prophets of that era, the first section is filled with warnings and judgment. The tone of the text shifts when we read Second Isiah, and then it shifts again in the last ten chapters which are called Third Isaiah and are dated to 520 BCE when Jews had returned from exile.[i]

All this to day that today’s text is addressed to Israelites whose ancestors wandered in wilderness before entering Canaan and who have now themselves been exiled in foreign territory for a generation.

They are being asked to imagine another way forward and God is leading the way.

Some of them would have been searching for God in their disorientation and wondering what living faithfully as God’s people meant in the place where they were now.

I imagine others were grumblers, people like those who followed Moses and fled the oppression of Pharaoh and then complained when the journey got hard. People who believed God would lead them into a new life but wanted it to happen more quickly, be less uncomfortable and more predictable.

There may have been people too who had grown accustomed to living in exile and were making the best of a bad situation, learning to live in their local communities without challenging the status quo. Perhaps they were content to leave any risk-taking to the next generation.

And still others may have been like the “nones” we have today. People whose grandparents or even parents were leaders in faith communities, but whose identity is no longer shaped by their religious affiliation or belonging.

And here, God calls all of these people together into something new, promising to make a way where there is no way and supply life-giving water in a parched place.

I wonder how the different people responded to God’s invitation and how quickly they released their hold on what they knew and opened themselves to the new thing that God was doing.

Did they rejoice? Or did they grumble some more? Or even grow angry? Did they roll their eyes or shake their heads in ridicule? Did they shrug their shoulders with indifference?

We can’t know, right? But we can hear the invitation God offers, knowing that God’s Word speaks to us in this place, and we can choose how we will respond.

The Good News from Isaiah is that even, or perhaps especially, in our congregations and faith communities, which are made up of all these same kinds of people, God will do what God does, and life will spring forth in unexpected ways. There is no place beyond God’s reach and involvement.

Inside your bulletin, each of you has a picture of the California desert. At first it may not look like it, especially if you are imagining a desert landscape as one filled with sand, cactus and Joshua trees. But this picture is from Antelope Valley Poppy Preserve, a California state park north of Los Angeles where this year, the rainfall in the desert has yielded the most glorious display of poppies in recent memory. Waves of orange blooms cover the hillsides transforming the desert wilderness that lies barren in winter. It is an image that reminds me of the promise we hear from God in today’s text. Take it with you, tape it to a mirror or your refrigerator, or someplace else where you will see it and remember:

The wilderness is both a place that is unfamiliar and a place that God shows up. And the wilderness is a place where we are invited to let God lead and show us what beautiful and surprising things God has in store for us, transforming us and giving us new life.

Thanks be to God.

[i] Walter Brueggemann. Isaiah 40 – 66. Westminster John Knox Press. 3.

Fourth Wednesday in Lent - "Joyful Hospitality"

Philippians 2:19-30

We continue reading tonight from Paul’s letter to the Philippians with Chapter 2 verses 19 to 30, and I am reading from the English Standard Version translation:

19 I hope in the Lord Jesus to send Timothy to you soon, so that I too may be cheered by news of you. 20 For I have no one like him, who will be genuinely concerned for your welfare. 21 For they all seek their own interests, not those of Jesus Christ. 22 But you know Timothy's proven worth, how as a son with a father he has served with me in the gospel. 23 I hope therefore to send him just as soon as I see how it will go with me, 24 and I trust in the Lord that shortly I myself will come also.

25 I have thought it necessary to send to you Epaphroditus my brother and fellow worker and fellow soldier, and your messenger and minister to my need, 26 for he has been longing for you all and has been distressed because you heard that he was ill. 27 Indeed he was ill, near to death. But God had mercy on him, and not only on him but on me also, lest I should have sorrow upon sorrow. 28 I am the more eager to send him, therefore, that you may rejoice at seeing him again, and that I may be less anxious. 29 So receive him in the Lord with all joy, and honor such men, 30 for he nearly died for the work of Christ, risking his life to complete what was lacking in your service to me.

The Word of the Lord.
Thanks be to God.

Reading Paul’s letters always feels like we are looking over the shoulder of someone, because the letters weren’t written specifically to us, and tonight we are hearing a part of the letter to the church in Philippi that never appears in the three-year revised common lectionary that assigns our readings in Sunday worship, so it may sound even more strange to us.

So the first thing I’d like you to do tonight is listen again to the text and ask what particular word or phrase do you hear? What sticks with you? After I read the text, gather in groups of three, from where you are sitting, and share what you heard. This time I am reading from the New Revised Standard Version translation.

19 I hope in the Lord Jesus to send Timothy to you soon, so that I may be cheered by news of you. 20 I have no one like him who will be genuinely concerned for your welfare.  21 All of them are seeking their own interests, not those of Jesus Christ. 22 But Timothy's worth you know, how like a son with a father he has served with me in the work of the gospel.  23 I hope therefore to send him as soon as I see how things go with me; 24 and I trust in the Lord that I will also come soon. 

25 Still, I think it necessary to send to you Epaphroditus -- my brother and co-worker and fellow soldier, your messenger1 and minister to my need; 26 for he has been longing for1 all of you, and has been distressed because you heard that he was ill. 27 He was indeed so ill that he nearly died. But God had mercy on him, and not only on him but on me also, so that I would not have one sorrow after another.  28 I am the more eager to send him, therefore, in order that you may rejoice at seeing him again, and that I may be less anxious. 29 Welcome him then in the Lord with all joy, and honor such people,  30 because he came close to death for the work of Christ,1 risking his life to make up for those services that you could not give me.

The Word of the Lord.
Thanks be to God.



Like writing a handwritten note instead of sending a store-bought card, Paul works at creating a personal presence in his letters. He knows the Philippians are anxious because they have heard that he is in prison. He knows they are waiting to hear the news of his trial in Rome and that they are expecting Timothy to bring them that news. But he doesn’t want them to be distracted from the main thing – which is living out their Christian life serving God.

In another letter, to the Romans, Paul describes the Christian life itself as an act of worship, urging the Church “by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship. (Romans12:1)

So, now, to help guide the Philippians in his and Timothy’s absence, he is sending another co-worker in the Gospel to be with them. Epaphroditus, who came out of the congregation there at Philippi, and after an illness is now well enough to travel to them again, is being sent home to be with them. And the conclusion of this section of the letter is Paul commending Epaphroditus to them. He wants the Philippians to recognize the gifts that he has as a messenger and minister of the gospel and to welcome him as they might welcome Christ himself.

Often when I speak about the ways we give or serve, I frame it as a response to what we have first been given:

We love because we were first loved by God.
We give because all we have is first given to us by God.

And I don’t want to discard that framework, but I think Paul adds another dimension to what it means to live out our Christian faith here.

The invitation Paul issues to the Philippians isn’t based on what they have already known or received; instead it is an invitation into something new. Yes, God loves you, and, yes, God is generous towards you, but welcome Epaphroditus because of the work God is doing in and through him. Welcome him and see a new picture of what God is doing. Encounter Christ in him.

In Lutheranism we have a church phrase that describes how we encounter God. It’s the phrase “the means of grace” and we define the means of grace as “the presence of Jesus Christ through the Power of the Spirit as a gift of the Father.”[i] And most often we talk about the means of grace in the context of Word and Sacrament, which for us is Baptism and Holy Communion.

But in Because of This I Rejoice, Methodist pastor and author Max O. Vincent writes that one of the fathers of Methodism, John Wesley, describe acts of mercy as a means of grace. Wesley taught that acts of mercy are a means of encountering Christ.[ii]

As we read Paul’s letter, leaning over the shoulder of those who came before us, I believe he challenges us to think differently about how and why we relate to others. We can welcome people into the life of our congregation with a lot of good intentions. We anticipate the rich variety of gifts that new people bring. We hope for new or deeper relationships rooted in our common bond as brothers and sisters. We are thankful for the ways we learn from each other and from our differences. We can even be eager for others to experience the love of God that we know.

But what about welcoming or serving another with the expectation that we will encounter Christ in them? Paul’s words encourage us to see the person who may not sit in a pew with us as a person who can teach us about who God is or how God loves, and evokes the words of the writer of Hebrews who writes, “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it. (Hebrews 13:2-3)

Let us pray…
Holy, loving and generous God,
We give you thanks for your Son Jesus and all of the apostles and disciples who have followed him, teaching us what it means to live a Christian life as witness to Your grace.
Open our eyes to see Christ in each person we meet and rejoice in the life we have together as brothers and sisters and as Your children, united in faith.
We pray in the name of your Son Jesus.
Amen.

[i] The Use of the Means of Grace: A Statement on the Practice of Word and Sacrament. ELCA. 1997. 6.
[ii] Max O. Vincent. Because of This I Rejoice. 75-77.