Lent 5A

John 11:1-45

Hearing the gospel this time, what caught me was how Martha and then Mary say the exact same thing to Jesus. Whether it was tinged with grief or laced with accusation, they say,

“Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

Our Psalm for today also gives voice to the despair we feel in times of loss. “Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord; O Lord, hear my voice!”

I expect most of us have at some point in our lives said,

“God , if you had been here, this horrible, very bad thing wouldn’t have happened.”

or

“God, where are you? Because if you were here this horrible, very bad thing wouldn’t be happening.” To me, to us, to the person or people I love.

It’s a natural human response. The question of why bad things happen is a common one, and I don’t pretend I can answer it. We could have a theological discussion about humanity’s free will or about God’s permissive will or we could talk about the science of how weather and disease wreak havoc in our lives. But I doubt we’d get to a satisfactory answer.

But faith isn’t about having all the answers. Faith is believing God’s Word and trusting in the promises given to us by God.

In John’s Gospel, especially, believing means being in relationship, or knowing, God. Jesus isn’t transactional. Jesus is relational.

When Nicodemus came to see Jesus at night, and the Samaritan woman met him at the well, and the man who was born blind was healed, Jesus took time to talk with them, to answer their questions and to invite them into a deeper relationship.

In today’s gospel, we see Jesus motivated by relationship. Lazarus and his sisters Mary and Martha were Jesus’ friends. John bears witness to their friendship when he writes that the sisters sent a message to Jesus about Lazarus calling him “the one that you love” and when Jesus speaks to the disciples about returning to Judea and calls Lazarus a friend.

And, just as we want to go and be with the people we love when they are hurting, Jesus goes to Judea because his friend Lazarus has died.

But when Jesus arrives, the sisters are angry with him and that’s when they make their accusation, or perhaps their lament. But even in their despair, Martha makes the confession that Jesus is the Messiah, and Mary kneels at his feet. They do not grieve without hope, because Jesus is the source of their hope.

And, when Jesus speaks to the sisters, he doesn’t hide his own sorrow at seeing their suffering. Seeing the pain caused by the death of his friend, John tells us that Jesus “was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved.” (11:33) And when he sees where Lazarus was buried, he weeps.

I’m sure that Jesus wept because his friends were suffering.

But what else is he weeping for?

Is he weeping because while Lazarus will be resuscitated this time, Jesus knows that he cannot take death away permanently? [i] He cannot stop the suffering and the emptiness that comes with grief.

Is he weeping because he knows what is ahead? While he dismissed the other disciples’ concerns when they returned to Judea, Jesus must have known that the people who tried to stone him (John 10:31) were still there in Jerusalem and that he is also on his way to his own death. Next Sunday we will celebrate Palm Sunday and his triumphant entry in Jerusalem, before we enter into Holy Week and see him arrested and crucified.

Watching Jesus weep, I wonder what we weep for, and for what do we grieve today? 

I wrote these words yesterday. We had already had one death in our congregation this week and now we've had another. 

Certainly, we weep when a loved one dies. We weep because our lives are emptier because they are absent. And we lament the loss of what won’t be. Of the celebrations and milestones that are lost.

We weep when a beloved is hurting, and we cannot fix it. We weep because of our helplessness.

We weep when we receive bad news or experience pain.

We weep at the terror of war and the destruction of floods and the horrible ways we inflict pain on one another.

Our tears, like the ones Jesus shed, are testament to the love we have for one another.

And like Mary and Martha, our grief is not without hope because the source of our hope is Jesus.

Today’s Gospel assures us that we worship a God who is fully God and fully incarnate, fully divine and fully human, who weeps and comes alongside us when we are hurting.

Today, during Holy Communion we have prayer ministers present to pray with you and I invite you to bring your grief to them. Follow the witness we have from the psalmist and in Jesus, Martha and Mary, and cry out to God, not as one without hope, but as one whose hope is in Jesus.

Let us pray…[ii]

Good and gracious God,

From the beginning you wired us for friendship, community and for belonging.

When we suffer loss and grief, remind us that you share our sorrow and that we are not alone in the heaviness of it all.

Draw us to you and into community with one another that all will know the hope found in You.

We pray in Jesus’ name.

Amen.

---

[i] Karoline Lewis. “Sermon Brainwave” Luther Seminary.

[ii] Adapted from “Seeking: Can these bones live?”, Fifth Week of Lent, A Sanctified Art.

Lent 4A

Juan 9:1-41

I preached this sermon in the Spanish service; the English translation is below. 

Oremos…

Sean gratos los dichos de mi boca y las meditaciónes de nuestros corazónes delante de ti, oh Jehovah, Roca mía y Redentor mío. Amén. (Psalm 19:14 RVA)

Mi mamá me dice que cuando era niña, pintaba con los dedos con pinceles. No me gustaba ser desordenada, así que creo que nunca hice pasteles de lodo, pero ¿no es eso lo que hace Jesús en el evangelio de hoy?
 
Un poco de lodo, un poco de saliva, y pone la mezcla en los ojos de un ciego de nacimiento.
Un hombre que nunca había visto un amanecer o un atardecer, una flor florecer
o los rostros de las personas que amaba.
 
Y luego, el hombre sigue las instrucciones de Jesús: se lava y puede ver.
 
Hace un par de años, comencé a jugar con barro, aprendiendo a tirar barro a mano en una rueda de cerámica. Los alfareros dicen que el barro sabe qué forma va a tomar. Realmente no puedes
obligarlo a ser algo que no es.
 
Trabajas con él y observas cómo se transforma el barro y se revela la forma.
 
Cuando Juan nos cuenta cómo Jesús puso un poco de lodo y saliva en los ojos del hombre, escuchamos ecos de la historia de la creación donde Dios recogió la tierra y formó a la primera persona viva, Adán, y le soplo vida. (Génesis 2:7)
 
La tierra, el lodo o el barro se convierte en el medio creativo para nuestro Dios Creador y luego para nuestro Redentor Jesús.
 
Pero los vecinos del hombre, los líderes religiosos e incluso sus padres están confundidos, enojados e incluso asustados por el cambio en el hombre.
 
Tenían una forma de verlo a él y al mundo, y ahora ha habido un cambio.
 
Primero hay un grupo de personas, incluidos los discípulos de Jesús, que vieron al hombre y creyeron que su ceguera era un castigo por el pecado de alguien.
Quieren saber quién tiene la culpa, señalar con el dedo y encontrar fallas.  Y en una sociedad construida sobre el honor y la vergüenza, los regalos gratuitos de misericordia, perdón y sanación no son buenas noticias; son una tontería. (1 Corintios 1:18)
 
Otro grupo de personas solo lo conocían como un mendigo y ahora no están seguros si es la misma persona o un extraño. No entienden cómo puede ver, y no saben cómo responderle ahora. Probablemente no sabían su nombre. Tal vez lo habían visto en la calle y compartieron con él una migaja de pan o un trago de agua. Tal vez habían cruzado la calle para evitarlo. Pero como mendigo, sabían a dónde pertenecía, y no era con ellos.
 
Pero ahora, no puede ser rechazado porque es un pecador, y no puede ser ignorado porque es pobre, y la gente se enoja y hasta tiene miedo. En lugar de regocijarse de que el hombre haya sido sanado o celebrar con él,
 
Juan nos dice que insultan al hombre y lo echan fuera, descartando lo que les dice sobre quién es Jesús y lo que ha hecho.
 
Su visión del mundo ha sido interrumpida y solo quieren que las cosas vuelvan a ser como antes.
 
Afortunadamente, sus objeciones y quejas no detienen a Dios y la historia no termina ahí.
 
Cuando sus vecinos e incluso sus padres se resisten a abrazarlo y aceptarlo, Jesús vuelve a encontrar al hombre. Cuando los demás no pueden dejar de definirlo por su pasado, Jesús lo encuentra. Jesús siempre ha visto al hombre como una persona íntegra, creada y amada por Dios. La curación del hombre es una ventaja: Jesús lo llamó "alguien a través de quien las obras de Dios podrían revelarse en él", incluso antes de que recobrara la vista. (Juan 9:3)
 
Me acuerdo de las palabras del Salmo ciento treinta y nueve (139) que dicen:
 
Porque fuiste tú quien formaste mis entrañas;
me formaste en el vientre de mi madre.
Te alabo, porque asombrosa y maravillosamente he sido hecho.
Maravillosas son tus obras; (139:13-14)
 
Jesús sabía quién era el hombre y de quién era, desde el principio.
 
Y ahora, al confesando su fe en Cristo y adorandolo, el hombre entra en una nueva relación con Cristo y encuentra su identidad y pertenencia en El.
 
No conocemos el resto de la historia. Solo podemos adivinar si los vecinos del hombre reconsideraron o llegaron a creer.
 
Pero podemos unirnos al hombre para vernos a nosotros mismos a través de los ojos de Dios. Podemos saber que cuando el mundo no muestra compasión, Dios ve nuestras necesidades y nos busca para que sepamos cuánto nos ama Dios. Y podemos contarles a otros cómo el amor de Dios nos ha cambiado.
 
Oremos…
Dios bueno y misericordioso,
Damos gracias por tu Hijo Jesús que nos busca y nos encuentra.
Que podamos vernos a nosotros mismos y a todos los que conocemos a través de tus ojos.
Ayúdanos a cuidarnos unos a otros y a celebrar la plenitud de tu amor por el mundo.
Oramos en el nombre de Jesús.
Amén.

John 9:1-41

My mom tells me that when I was a little girl, I finger painted with brushes. I didn’t like to be messy, so I don’t think I ever made mud pies, but isn’t that what Jesus does in today’s gospel?

A little mud, a little spittle, and he puts the mixture on the eyes of a man who was born blind.

A man who had never seen a sunrise or sunset, a flower blossom

or the faces of people he loved.

And then, the man follows Jesus’ instructions - he washes and he can see.

A couple of years ago, I did begin to play with clay, learning how to hand throw pottery on a wheel. Potters say that clay knows what form it’s going to take. You really can’t force it to be something that it isn’t. You work with it, and you watch as the clay is transformed, and the shape is revealed.

When John tells us how Jesus put some mud and spittle on the man’s eyes, we hear echoes of the creation story where God scooped up the dirt and formed the first living person, °¹d¹m, and breathed life into him. (Genesis 2:7 NRS)

The dirt, clay or mud becomes the creative medium for our Creator God and then for our Redeemer Jesus.

But the man’s neighbors, the religious leaders and even his parents are confused, angry and even frightened by the change in the man. They had a way of looking at him, and the world, and now there’s been a change.

First there’s a group of people, including Jesus’ disciples, who saw the man and believed that his blindness was punishment for someone’s sin. They want to know who is to blame, to point a finger and find fault. And in a society built on honor and shame, the free gifts of mercy, forgiveness and healing aren’t good news; they are foolishness. (1 Corinthians 1:18 NRS)

Another group of people only knew him as a beggar and now they aren’t sure whether he’s the same person, or a stranger. They don’t understand how he can see, and they don’t know how to respond to him now. They probably didn’t know his name. Maybe they had seen him on the street and shared a crust of bread or a drink of water with him. Maybe they had crossed the street to avoid him. But as a beggar, they knew where he belonged, and it wasn’t with them.

But now, he cannot be rejected because he is a sinner, and he cannot be ignored because he is poor, and the people get angry and even afraid. Instead of rejoicing that the man has been healed and or celebrating with him, John tells us that they revile the man and throw him out, dismissing what he tells them about who Jesus is and what he had done.

Their view of the world has been disrupted and they just want things to go back to the way they were.

Thankfully, their objections and complaints don’t stop God and the story doesn’t end there.

When his neighbors and even his parents are reluctant to embrace and accept him, Jesus finds the man again. When others cannot stop defining him by his past, Jesus finds him. Jesus has always seen the man as a whole person, created and loved by God. The man’s healing is a bonus – Jesus called him “one through whom God’s works might be revealed in him”, even before he gained his sight. (John 9:3)

I am reminded of the words from Psalm 139 that say,

For it was you who formed my inward parts;

you knit me together in my mother's womb.

I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.

Wonderful are your works; (139:13-14)

Jesus knew who the man was, and whose he was, from the beginning.

And now, confessing his belief in Christ and worshiping him, the man enters into a new relationship with Christ and finds his identity and belonging in Him.

We don’t know the rest of the story. We can only guess whether the man’s neighbors reconsidered or came to believe.

But we can join the man in seeing ourselves through God’s eyesWe can know that when the world fails to show compassion, God sees our needs and seeks us out so that we will know much we are loved by God. And we can tell others how God’s love has changed us.

Let us pray…

Good and gracious God, 
We give thanks for your Son Jesus who seeks us and finds us.
May we see ourselves and everyone we meet through your eyes.
Help us care for one another and celebrate the fullness of your love for the world.
We pray in Jesus’ name.
Amen.

Midweek Lent Reflection - Seeking (Week 3)

Isaiah 58:6-9

Throughout Lent we are reflecting on what it means to be God-seeking people and asking honest questions to deepen our faith and understanding. 

Sharing stories of Bible characters who have searched for God, I introduced you to Ruth and Pastor Jonathan introduced you to Esther. This week and next, we’ll share stories of our own experiences seeking God. And finally, in our last week together, we’re going to invite you to have conversation together and share your stories.

Tonight, I want us to return to one of the Scripture readings from Ash Wednesday where we began this time of searching and seeking. 

A reading from Isaiah.

⁶Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? ⁷Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them, and not to hide yourself from your own kin?

⁸Then your light shall break forth like the dawn, and your healing shall spring up quickly; your vindicator shall go before you, the glory of the Lord shall be your rear guard. ⁹Then you shall call, and the Lord will answer; you shall cry for help, and he will say, Here I am.

Word of God, Word of Life.

Thanks be to God.

As we share our stories and experiences, one question we’re asking is, “Where is God in All This?” My ministry colleagues who went to the Lutheran seminary in Columbia credit former LTSS professor the Reverend Dr. Tony Everett with that question.

When we’re reading biblical texts, it’s a question that helps us remember first, that God is always the actor

and second, that the text is revealing something about who God is.

When we apply it to our lives, I think it helps us remember that God promises to be present with us in all things and nothing separates us from God’s love.

One of the stories I tell about God showing up is when I tell the story of having cancer at 26.

It was 1996 - Jamie and I had been married 3 years, and our oldest daughter had been born the year before. I was losing weight, but everyone though I was just shedding the weight I’d gained when I was pregnant with her. When summer came and I began to get short of breath, my doctors thought I had asthma, so I started carrying a rescue inhaler.

No one expects an otherwise healthy twenty-something to have cancer.

But that October when the rescue inhaler wasn’t helping anymore, and I couldn’t catch my breath to have a conversation in Sunday school, the other women encouraged me to go to the emergency room.

Jamie kept our baby girl at home, and I went to the regional hospital where they took a chest x-ray and found out I had a softball size tumor that had collapsed one of my lungs. I had Hodgkins Lymphoma.

I was admitted and came home six days later on oxygen.

The next six months involved a lot of doctors, injections and transfusions, imaging and tests. But what stands out to me as I remember it, and what my mom remembers from that time, is how our church loved us.

We had moved just three months before, in August and joined the church down the street from the military school where Jamie was teaching and coaching football and where we lived on campus. We were new to the town, the neighborhood and the church.

But their response to our need was immediate, without qualification or reservation.

For six months, someone from the church prepared a meal for us every other week on the day I took chemotherapy. And then on the Friday after chemo, when the side effects would hit hardest, one of the other mothers picked up our one-year-old daughter and cared for her while Jamie was teaching so that I could rest. Later when I had to travel an hour to the hospital where I had daily radiation treatment, volunteers drove me five days a week for a month.

God showed up in the hands and feet, kitchens and casserole dishes, of the people in that congregation and community.

A few weeks ago, when we learned Ruth’s story I encouraged us to remain open and curious to how the changes in our lives are helping us encounter God in new ways.

I have shared that I came back to the church through campus ministry as a college student. My husband Jamie had gone to an Episcopal school where he went to chapel every week, but neither of us had been raised as regular Sunday church goers. My mom hadn’t been raised going to church every Sunday either. The idea of a community beyond blood-related family who love one another and help one another wasn’t familiar.

But the witness of that congregation’s care remains vivid in our memories, even now.

We are created for relationship, and the ways that we embody God’s love by sharing our lives, our stories, our food and our presence are all ways that God’s light breaks through and shines like the dawn on the people we encounter.

Thanks be to God.

Lent 3A

The differences between last week’s gospel and today’s gospel are literally night and day.

We are in John’s gospel again but this time, Jesus is the one on the move. In Jerusalem, the Pharisee named Nicodemus had found Jesus at night to ask the questions he had.

Now Jesus has gone to Samaria, and he is at the public well in the middle of the day when he encounters a woman there, and it’s Jesus who speaks first, asking the unnamed woman to give him a drink.

As it unfolds, this story embodies the verse that ended last week’s gospel: “For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world but to save the world through him.”  (John 3:17)

Although the Evangelist said Jesus had to go there (4:4), Samaria wasn’t actually on the route from Jerusalem to Galilee, so the route wasn’t born out of geographical necessity. Jesus went to Samaria because God was up to something.

John makes sure we know how unusual this scene with Jesus and the Samaritan woman is when he writes, “Jews use nothing in common with Samaritans.” (4:9) Their animosity was grounded in six hundred years of feuding. While the Jewish people were descended from the people who had returned to Jerusalem after the exile, Samaritans were descended from the colonial powers who conquered the region and the Israelites who had stayed. This was a centuries old irreconcilable division, even more serious than which barbecue or basketball team is best.

And then there’s this woman. We don’t know her name, and while you may have heard sermons preached about her immorality, it is just as likely that she had been abandoned for being barren, or she had been widowed, or both. Importantly, as it is with so many people we meet, we don’t know the rest of her story. It is hidden from us.

Meeting Jesus for the first time, both Nicodemus and the woman realize that what Jesus isn’t speaking to them the way others do. And what he says to them doesn’t fit with the teachings and assumptions they’ve held throughout their lifetimes. It is a time of disorientation and reorientation.

And, just as Nicodemus asked Jesus, “How can these things be?” (3:9) when Jesus spoke of being born of water and the Spirit (3:5), when Jesus tells the woman about living water, she asks him, “Where do you get that living water?” (4:11)

We don’t hear more from Nicodemus until later in John’s gospel (Ch. 7 and 19) But when the woman at the well hears Jesus declare that he is the Messiah, she immediately goes and tells her neighbors, “Come and see the One who knows everything I have ever done….”

The woman’s testimony sparks my curiosity.

I wonder if she realized how deeply she longed to be known. I think of how easy it is to go through the motions of our day-to-day responsibilities without thinking too deeply about what we need. It is a mark of privilege to be sure that we don’t have to think about whether we will have food or water or a roof over our heads and shoes on our feet.

As I heard the Samaritan woman’s story again, I remembered another story of living water. This one comes from Malawi in southeastern Africa:

In the late 1990s, the people in Malawi experienced drought, their crops failed and there was famine. An earnest young teenager who could not afford his school fees spent his free time reading in the village library, looking for ways to help his family and community. The story of “the boy who harnessed the wind” tells how the young man built a windmill from scrap metal and bicycle parts to create electricity that could pump water and irrigate the land, generating living and life-giving water.

Today a woman in an African country may spend 660 hours a year collecting water and every day tens of thousands of people die from diseases caused by contaminated water. ELCA World Hunger supports water projects across the world. These projects provide clean, safe water for drinking, growing crops and sanitation. Instead of gathering water from far away or from compromised sources, women can work and earn money for their families and children can go to school and get an education and secure better opportunities for their future. As we continue our month-long appeal to raise $5,000 for ELCA World Hunger, we can know that our gifts provide living water for our neighbors around the world.

I wonder as I reflect on the stories of the woman and of that young man, “What does living water look like for you?”

Sometimes, it is the cascade of a spring rain that rinses away all the pollen and grime and makes the grass sparkle;

Other times, it is the refreshment of icy spring water in a glass;

And still other times,

it is the flowing river of grace that washes over us;

the waters of baptism poured on our heads that gives us new life;

the endless well of mercy where God meets us and knows us.

And like Nicodemus and the woman, I’d bet that sometimes we don’t even know that we need that living water - we don’t know what we don’t know – and yet, God shows up where we are with what we need, drawing us again into conversation and relationship, and into communion with God.

Let us pray…

Good and gracious God,

Thank you for showing up where we need your life-giving presence.

Thank you for sustaining us with grace and mercy, with living water that restores us to relationship with you.

Help us invite others to come and see,

to be witnesses to how you so love the world.

We pray in Jesus’ name.

Amen.

Midweek Lent Reflection - Seeking (Week 1)

Ruth 1:1-18

Throughout Lent we are reflecting on what it means to be God-seeking people and asking honest questions to deepen our faith and understanding.

As we thought about these midweek services, we decided to do two things – first, it’s always wise to return to God’s Word, so Pastor Jonathan and I are taking turns looking at God-seeking people who we meet there in Scripture. Second, we always want to remember that we are created for relationship, and one of the ways we build relationship with each other is to listen to our stories, so we are going to take turns telling our own stories of seeking God. And finally, in our last week together, we’re going to invite you to have conversation together and share your own stories of seeking God.

Tonight, we’re going to meet Ruth. And we’ll begin with a reading from the Book of Ruth:

1 In the days when the judges ruled, there was a famine in the land, and a certain man of Bethlehem in Judah went to live in the country of Moab, he and his wife and two sons. 2 The name of the man was Elimelech and the name of his wife Naomi, and the names of his two sons were Mahlon and Chilion; they were Ephrathites from Bethlehem in Judah. They went into the country of Moab and remained there. 3 But Elimelech, the husband of Naomi, died, and she was left with her two sons. 4 These took Moabite wives; the name of the one was Orpah and the name of the other Ruth. When they had lived there about ten years, 5 both Mahlon and Chilion also died, so that the woman was left without her two sons and her husband.

6 Then she started to return with her daughters-in-law from the country of Moab, for she had heard in the country of Moab that the Lord had considered his people and given them food. 7 So she set out from the place where she had been living, she and her two daughters-in-law, and they went on their way to go back to the land of Judah. 8 But Naomi said to her two daughters-in-law, “Go back each of you to your mother’s house. May the Lord deal kindly with you, as you have dealt with the dead and with me. 9 The Lord grant that you may find security, each of you in the house of your husband.” Then she kissed them, and they wept aloud. 10 They said to her, “No, we will return with you to your people.” 11 But Naomi said, “Turn back, my daughters, why will you go with me? Do I still have sons in my womb that they may become your husbands? 12 Turn back, my daughters, go your way, for I am too old to have a husband. Even if I thought there was hope for me, even if I should have a husband tonight and bear sons, 13 would you then wait until they were grown? Would you then refrain from marrying? No, my daughters, it has been far more bitter for me than for you, because the hand of the Lord has turned against me.” 14 Then they wept aloud again. Orpah kissed her mother-in-law, but Ruth clung to her.

15 So she said, “See, your sister-in-law has gone back to her people and to her gods; return after your sister-in-law.” 16 But Ruth said,

“Do not press me to leave you
or to turn back from following you!
Where you go, I will go;
where you lodge, I will lodge;
your people shall be my people,
and your God my God.
17 Where you die, I will die—
there will I be buried.
May the Lord do thus and so to me,
and more as well,
if even death parts me from you!”

18 When Naomi saw that she was determined to go with her, she said no more to her.

Word of God, Word of Life. Thanks be to God.

So, what do you know already about Ruth? (accept answers from the congregation)

She was a woman.

She wasn’t an Israelite; she was a Moabite – from Moab, a region across the Dead Sea to the east of Bethlehem and Judah. So, she was a foreigner and even an enemy of Israel.

She didn’t worship the God of Israel. She worshiped a tribal god named Chemosh (Kamōš).

Naomi’s husband took her and their sons to Moab because there was a famine in Israel. The sons married Moabite women. One was Ruth and another was named Orpah. But after ten years the sons also died. So Ruth was a widow. And at that time, she was childless, too.

But she’s one of the five women named in the genealogy or family tree of Jesus that Matthew includes in his gospel. Ruth becomes the great-grandmother of King David.

Tonight, we heard the first part of her story.

Of the famine.

Of her becoming a widow.

And of her decision to leave her homeland, to leave her god, and to follow her Israelite mother-in-law into a strange land.

These verses also tell the story of Ruth’s confession:

Where you go, I will go;
Where you lodge, I will lodge;
your people shall be my people, and your God my God.
One of the questions we are asking this season is, “Who will you listen to?”

The Benedictine author Joan Chittister (chi·tuh·str) writing about Ruth, Orpha and Naomi describes Ruth as one who “seek[s] God beyond the boundaries of the past.”[i] She did not listen only to voices of tradition and culture, but she listened to God who is a “God of becomings” – a God of possibility.

As I reflected on Ruth’s story, I thought of another young woman from the Middle East who sought a life unbounded by the past – Malala Yusafzai (yoo·suhf·zai). Malala was born in Pakistan in the part of what would have been known as the Persian empire in the ancient world.

Malala’s father was a schoolteacher who wanted his daughter to have access to education the same as boys in their country. But when the Taliban (ta·luh·ban) took control of her town in 2008, when she was 11, they said that girls could no longer go to school.

Malala spoke out against the discrimination, and four years later, in 2012, she was shot in the head by a masked gunman who wanted to silence her. Thankfully, she survived, and Malala went on to create a nonprofit that works to gain access to education for all girls. In 2014 she was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize and in 2020 she graduated from Oxford University in England. [ii]

Both Ruth and Malala – young women of different faiths– sought lives beyond the boundaries of the past, of their cultures and what was familiar.

In her story about Ruth, Chittister writes about the difference between willed change and unwilled change, saying that “willed change is what I seek and shape” while “unwilled change is what seeks me and reshapes me”.[iii]

What do we know about change? (accept answers from the congregation)

Scary. Disruptive. Disorienting. Uncomfortable.

But change can be hopeful, too, and change opens us to new experiences and understandings and cracks us open to God in new ways.[iv]

This Lent, may we remain open and curious to how the changes in our lives are helping us encounter God in new ways, and may we center God’s voice in our lives.

[i] Joan D. Chittister, OSB. The Story of Ruth: Twelve Moments in Every Woman’s Life. 25.

[ii] “Malala’s story”. Malala Fund. https://malala.org/malalas-story?sc=footer, accessed 3/1/2023

[iii] Chittister, 18.

[iv] ibid.