Sunday, March 24, 2024

Palm Sunday

Mark 11:1-11

Whenever we have a familiar story from the Bible, it’s a challenge to hear it anew. Today is one of those times; we hear some version of this story every year on Palm Sunday. Earlier we participated in what’s known as the triumphal entry into Jerusalem, where people laid down their leafy branches ahead of Jesus’ arrival, and we think we know what’s coming next. But often, as with the Christmas story, we often conflate or combine elements of the different stories into one.

In Matthew and Luke’s gospel, the entry is even more grand and when Jesus goes to the temple, he immediately he confronts the moneychangers and drives them out. But that isn’t what happens in Mark’s gospel, and that difference makes me curious.

In his gospel, Mark says, “Then [Jesus] entered Jerusalem and went into the temple; and when he had looked around at everything, as it was already late, he went out to Bethany with the twelve.” (Mark 11:11)

According to Mark, he does return to the temple the next day, but right now, in this moment, Jesus stops and looks around at everything.

Often, I think we hear “Temple” and think “church”, and we imagine Jesus entering a darkened, peaceful sanctuary, but the Temple grounds were massive, covering acres of land. The Temple was divided into courts, and there were guards. Even if the people who were there to sell animals for sacrifice and change money were gone because of the late hour, there would have been litter or debris from the crowds who had been there earlier in the day and the lingering smell of throngs of people, burnt offerings and animal dung.

It was not a quiet, meditative place.

But Jesus had been there before, as it was Jewish custom to travel to Jerusalem for the Passover. Surely, he would have known what to expect. And yet, this time was different.

And, he stopped and looked around at everything.

Maybe, he was reflecting on the Passover visit to the Temple when he was a boy, when his parents found him, “sitting among the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions.” (Luke 2:46) Maybe, like any of us who have gone back to a place we knew in childhood, he wondered at how different it was from his memories.

Maybe, he was reflecting on his years of ministry in Galilee, teaching and healing and upending people’s expectations of what, or who, a Messiah is. Jesus must have known that this time, his arrival in the city would provoke its leaders and that as he continued to invite people to be transformed, he would make a lot of people angry.

As one preacher said, Jesus wasn’t crucified because he told people to love one other.

He embodied the unbounded love of God and welcomed all, but he didn’t stop there. He challenged their understanding of authority and salvation, wrenching it from the hands of the emperor and returning it to its rightful place with God. He challenged their institutions and norms, where they found their security and control, and pointed them away from manmade things to God.

Today, as we enter Holy Week, we accompany Jesus first in his triumphal entry into Jerusalem and now to the temple. When we stop and look around at everything, what do we see?

Surely, we see that our congregations look different from the past. While some of that is sentimental longing, some of it is concrete and measurable. Decades ago, in many communities, certainly here in the South, the church was at the center of life, and traditions and friendships and activities were all built around it. There are a lot of reasons that’s no longer true and many are positive, despite the changes they’ve brought, but it is different now.

Surely, we see the divisiveness that seems to run like an electric current through conversations locally, nationally and in the world. Divisions have always been there, but they feel more intractable, and the chasms seem wider, especially in a year with a presidential election, and especially in times when there is war in Ukraine and the Holy Land.

 I hope that when we stop and look around at everything,

we do not cling to what was, or despair at the challenges that are part of our lives,

but we see each other as God’s beloved;

we see the strengths of this community of Jesus-followers; and,

we see the hope that the Gospel brings,

to anyone who has been pushed aside or been afraid,

to anyone who has been spinning because of the pace of change around them, or

to anyone who has felt the weight of the world on their shoulders and thought they would falter.

I hope when we stop and look around at everything, we can take a deep breath, breathing in God’s peace and the assurance of God’s presence in all that is to come. I wonder if that is what Jesus did, too.

Throughout this week, we will walk beside Jesus, as the crowds grow smaller and smaller, and the rest of his disciples choose whether to stay or to leave.

This week, and always,

I pray that we will not balk

at the invitation to be transformed by God’s love,

even when it means challenging our expectations,

or changing our understanding of what it means to be faithful.

I pray we will keep our eyes on God, and not the world, and follow.

Amen.

Sunday, March 17, 2024

Fifth Sunday in Lent

 John12:20-33

Throughout Lent, we have been listening to God to learn how we might practice forgiveness with all our heart, soul, and mind. Forgiveness is rooted in relationship: recognizing that God’s abundant forgiveness is ours because of the relationship we have with God because we are God’s children; and being empowered through God’s grace for us, to forgive ourselves and others with whom we are in relationship.

Practicing forgiveness also helps us remember that faith is never an individual or solo endeavor. It is inherently communal, and while it is personal, it is not private. We are in relationship with God, with each other and with our neighbors beyond our doors. And the fullness of our faith is diminished when our relationships are broken.

But, forgiveness is not a new idea.

 The prophet Jeremiah reminds us that God formed covenants - or relationships - with our ancestors in faith. There was the covenant with Noah, and then with Abram, and then with Moses and the whole people of Israel. But when the Law was given in stone, the tablets were later broken, and when forgiveness was given, it was later rejected.

But Jeremiah says this time will be different.

This time there will be a new covenant.

The covenant is still grounded in forgiveness but, this time, the prophet declares, it will be written on our hearts.

By grace, God writes over whatever pain or wounds we have suffered (even the ones that are self-inflicted), cleanses our sin-scarred hearts, and makes us new and whole.

For us as Christians, we see this new covenant manifest in the person of Jesus Christ. It is in Jesus that we see God make people whole, restore their relationships and return them to their families and communities. It is in Jesus that we see justice – the addressing of wrong actions – enacted, and we see man-made or contrived boundaries, barriers and categories broken down.

And that is why, as we approach Palm Sunday and Holy Week, the religious authorities were plotting to kill Jesus.

But in the gospel text, it is also why Greeks were coming to the disciples, and saying, “We wish to see Jesus.”

It’s most likely that these Greeks were Gentiles, outsiders to the old covenant, and yet, here they were coming to see the Messiah, the Son of God who had come into the world.

Once upon a time, the words “We wish to see Jesus” were carved into pulpits, that we preachers would remember our task. But I think I’d like to see those words carved into the lintel and doorposts at the entrance to every sanctuary, so that all of us, as we leave after worship, might remember that, for some, we are the only Jesus a person may meet.

The Evangelist tells us that Philip went to Andrew and then, together, they went to tell Jesus about the Greeks who had come, but after that, the gospel account takes a turn, and we never even learn whether they got to see Jesus.

Maybe they only got to meet the disciples and see Jesus by hearing their stories of why they followed Jesus and watching what their journey looked like.

A few years ago, at a gathering of chaplains at Hood Seminary, I listened as the brigadier general who was, at that time, leading the Army and Air National Guard Chaplain Corps spoke.

Chaplain Chisolm told his story of growing up in Mississippi in a town where his daddy was the school superintendent, and, as he told his story, he told us about the man he called Brother Wallace, who lived next door to the church where he grew up, which was just across the street from his own house.

 

That meant Brother Wallace was a witness to all the mischief he and his brothers and sisters got into, but Chaplain Chisolm said that, even in those years when as a teenager he didn’t think much about God or faith, Brother Wallace remained a constant presence in his life. Not cajoling or coercing or chastising him but just staying connected and interested.

 

At 18 Chisolm enlisted in the Air National Guard and, a few weeks after he graduated from high school, he moved farther away from home, and from his parents, than he had ever gone before - to Texas for basic training. The chaplain told the story of how there, in the old World War 2 barracks at Lackland Air Force Base, he heard God speak to him and as he wrestled with what that meant, he wrote a letter to Brother Wallace. He didn’t know what to do next, but he knew Brother Wallace was someone he could trust with his questions, and who could help him see God more clearly.

 

More than thirty years later, when Chisolm returned home for his father’s funeral, he was speaking again with Brother Wallace, and the older gentleman reached into his coat pocket and pulled out that letter written by the young recruit in a complex time of uncertainty.

“We wish to see Jesus. 

It is a plea that each one of us has probably made in our lifetimes, and that our neighbors, young and old, may only have answered in our openness to accompany them and listen to their stories;

in our “healing actions or attitudes that [affirm] that all people are created in the image of a loving God and, therefore, need and merit, respect and dignity;”[i] 

or in our willingness to show up and be “a visible sign of the Holy” in a volatile and unpredictable world. [ii]

As we near the end of this Lenten season, I wonder how we can help the people around us see Jesus reflected in our words and actions.

Let us pray.

Covenant God,

You see us for what we are, but in mercy You do not cast us aside. In your steadfast love you forgive us our sin.

May we bear your love and mercy into a hurting world in such a way that they will see You in our words and actions.

We pray in the name of Your Son Jesus,

Amen.



[i] Dr. Vergel Lattimore, Hood Theological Seminary, Salisbury, NC. 2018.

[ii] Chaplain Brig. Gen. J. Steven Chisolm speaking at Hood Theological Seminary, Salisbury, NC. 2018.  


Sunday, March 10, 2024

Fourth Sunday in Lent (El cuarto domingo de Cuaresma)

Efesios 2:1-10

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

Oremos…

Que las palabras de mi boca y las meditaciones de nuestros corazones sean aceptables a tu vista, oh Señor nuestra fuerza y nuestro redentor. Amén.

Una de mis frases favoritas en las Escrituras aparece en la Epístola, o Carta de hoy a la Iglesia en Éfeso. La frase en inglés es “But God”. En español, la frase cambia, pero el significado es la mismo. "pero Dios".

¿Recuerdas cuando Jose confronta a sus hermanos cuando la hambruna golpea a Israel y vienen a Egipto en busca de ayuda? Él les dice, 8 pues, no me enviaron ustedes acá , sino Dios, que me ha puesto por padre de Faraón, y por señor de toda su casa y gobernador en toda la tierra de Egipto. (Gen. 45: 8 RVR1960) y, más tarde les dice,

20 Vosotros pensasteis mal contra mí, mas Dios lo encaminó a bien, para hacer lo que vemos hoy, para mantener en vida a a mucho pueblo. (Génesis 50:20 RVR1960)

Cuando el escritor de los Hechos habla a los israelitas sobre Jesús, recordándoles que lo habían matado, dice,

24 al cual Dios levantó, sueltos los dolores de la muerte, por cuanto era imposible que fuese retenido por ella. (Hechos 2:24 RVR1960)

Y en la carta de Pablo a los romanos, escribe,

7 ... Ciertamente, apenas morirá alguno por un justo... 8 Mas Dios muestra su amor para con nosotros, en que, siendo aún pecadores, Cristo murió por nosotros. (Rom. 5: 7-8 RVR1960)

Una y otra vez, estamos viendo cómo se desarrolla la historia y creemos que sabemos lo que sucederá después, "pero Dios" actúa y la historia cambia.

Entonces, quiero que veamos lo que sucede cuando escuchamos estas palabras en efesios.

Cuando leemos las epístolas, y particularmente los efesios, es útil recordar tres cosas.

Primero, estamos escuchando la conversación de otras persona.

Estas cartas fueron enviadas a comunidades de creyentes y luego se compartieron en voz alta en una reunión. Por lo general, fueron escritas en respuesta a algo conocido por el autor, pero oculto para nosotros mientras escuchamos su conversación dos mil años después.

Y segundo, aunque los efesios es una de las letras paulinas, es lo que se llama una "carta en disputa". Es más probable que uno de los propios discípulos de Pablo que querían escribir en la misma tradición o estilo que Pablo lo haya escrito. Eso nos ayuda a comprender por qué Pablo a veces suena como un radical y otras veces un conservador y otros aún un reaccionario. i

El primer capítulo de Efesios es el saludo del autor a la comunidad en la isla griega de Éfeso.

La carta luego se acelera, y la porción que escuchamos hoy describe rápidamente a las personas como "estabais muertos en vuestros delitos y pecados, en los cuales anduvisteis " (v.1-2, RVR1960)

El escritor dice que estaban siguiendo poderes malévolos, incluidos "este mundo", “el príncipe de la potestad del aire" y  “la carne”. (v. 2-3, RVR1960) No necesitamos saber la naturaleza exacta de su pecado. Sabemos que el pecado nos separa de Dios, y sabemos que, debido a nuestra condición humana, todos pecamos diariamente y necesitamos el perdón de Dios. ii

El escritor dice: "Pero Dios" (2: 4)

Y con esas dos palabras, sabemos que no todo está perdido.

Dios interviene.

Dios actúa.

Dios salva.

Él escribe: "Pero Dios, que es rico en misericordia, por su gran amor con que nos amó ... nos dio vida juntamente con Cristo ...". (v. 4-5, RVR1960)

Estábamos muertos, pero ahora estamos vivos.

Éramos esclavos del pecado, pero ahora somos liberados en Cristo.

Éramos "hijos de la ira" (v.3, RVR1960) pero ahora somos agentes de gracia.

Espero que cada uno de ustedes sepa que las palabras de Dios son para ti. Nadie está fuera de la rica misericordia de Dios y su gran amor.

Cuando vivimos con confianza de que estamos en el abrazo de Dios, ya no nos condenamos a nosotros mismos ni a los demás, sino que buscamos cómo podemos compartir el amor de Dios con los demás. Estamos dotados de la vida en Cristo para poder compartir esa vida con los demás, con nuestra iglesia, nuestros vecinos y la comunidad.

Podemos ser Cristo para los demás a través de actos de servicio, como lo haremos el próximo mes cuando tengamos el sábado de servicio.

Pero a veces, es justo en casa donde necesitamos mostrar el mismo tipo de amor y misericordia que hemos recibido por primera vez. Está en nuestra relación con un cónyuge, un hermano, un niño o incluso un padre.

Lutero nos recuerda que "así como pecamos mucho contra Dios todos los días y, sin embargo, nos perdona a través de toda gracia, así siempre debemos perdonar a nuestro prójimo que nos hace daño, violencia e injusticia ...".iii

El perdón es un trabajo duro. Pero aferrarse al resentimiento, la ira o el dolor simplemente perpetúa el daño. A lo largo de esta temporada de Cuaresma, estamos escuchando en las Escrituras y aprendiendo cómo perdonarnos a nosotros mismos y a los demás,

y cómo liberar y dejar a un lado el peso de la falta de perdón.

Cuando llegamos a saber lo que necesitamos, podemos confiar en que Dios responderá, y no dependerá de nuestros propio trabajo o esfuerzos. Y lo mismo es cierto para esta tarea. Debemos entregar nuestra ira a Dios y confiar en Dios para que trabaje para ayudarnos a perdonar.

Oremos…

Dios bueno y amable

Gracias por tu rica misericordia y gran amor por nosotros.

Ayúdanos a poner nuestros ojos en ti y poner nuestra mente en ti,

Recordando que te pertenecemos.

Haznos agentes de gracia para

que todos sepan  de tu abundante gracia.

Oramos en el nombre de tu Hijo, nuestro Señor y Salvador, Jesucristo.

Amén.


[i] John Dominic Crossan and Marcus Borg. The First Paul: Reclaiming the Radical Visionary behind the Church’s Conservative Icon.

[ii] Martin Luther. Small Catechism. 39.

[iii] Martin Luther. Large Catechism, 453, 94.


Ephesians 2:1-10

Let us pray…         

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in your sight, O Lord our strength and our redeemer. Amen.

One of my favorite phrases in Scripture shows up in today’s epistle, or letter, to the church at Ephesus. The phrase is “But God”.

Do you remember when Joseph confronts his brothers when the famine strikes Israel and they come to Egypt for help? He tells them, 8 So it was not you who sent me here, but God; he has made me a father to Pharaoh, and lord of all his house and ruler over all the land of Egypt. (Gen. 45:8 NRS) And, later he tells them,

20 Even though you intended to do harm to me, God intended it for good, in order to preserve a numerous people, as he is doing today. (Gen. 50:20 NRS)

When the author of Acts speaks to the Israelites about Jesus, reminding them that they had killed him, he says,

24 But God raised him up, having freed him from death, because it was impossible for him to be held in its power. (Act 2:24 NRS)

And in Paul’s letter to the Romans, he writes,

7 …rarely will anyone die for a righteous person… 8 But God proves his love for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us. (Rom. 5:7-8 NRS)

Again and again, we are watching the story unfold and we think we know what will happen next, “but God” acts and the story changes.

So, I want us to look at what happens when we hear these words in Ephesians.

When we read the epistles, and particularly Ephesians, it’s helpful to remember three things.

First, we are eavesdropping on someone else’s conversation. These letters were sent to communities of believers and then shared aloud at a gathering. Usually, they were written in response to something known to the author but hidden from us as we listen in on their conversation two thousand years later.

And second, while Ephesians is one of the Pauline letters, it is what’s called a “disputed letter”. It was more likely written by one of Paul’s own disciples who wanted to write in the same tradition or style as Paul had written. That helps us understand why Paul sometimes sounds like a radical and other times a conservative and still others a reactionary.[i]

The first chapter of Ephesians is the author’s greeting to the community on the Greek island of Ephesus. The letter then picks up speed, and the portion we hear today swiftly describes the people as having “been dead through the trespasses and sins in which they once lived” (v.1-2)

The writer says they were following malevolent powers including “this world”, the ruler of the power of the air” and “the flesh”. (v. 2-3) We don’t need to know the exact nature of their sin. We know that sin separates us from God, and we know that because of our human condition, we all sin daily and need God’s forgiveness.[ii]

The writer then says, “But God,” (2:4)

And with those two words, we know that all is not lost.

God intervenes.

God acts.

God saves.

He writes, “But God, who is rich in mercy, out of the great love with which God loved us… made us alive together with Christ….” (v. 4-5)

We were dead but now we are alive.

We were slaves to sin but now we are freed in Christ.

We were “children of wrath” (v.3) but now we are agents of grace.

I hope each of you knows that God’s words are for you. No one is outside of God’s rich mercy and great love.

When we live with confidence that we are held in God’s embrace, we no longer condemn ourselves or others, but look for how we can share God’s love with others. We are gifted with life in Christ so that we can share that life with others, with our church, our neighbors and community.

We can be Christ to others through acts of service, like we will do next month when we have Servant Saturday.

But sometimes, it’s right at home where we need to show the same kind of love and mercy that we have first received. It is in our relationship with a spouse, a sibling, a child or even a parent.

Luther reminds us that “Just as we sin greatly against God every day and yet he forgives us through all grace, so we must always forgive our neighbor who does us harm, violence and injustice,….”[iii]

Forgiveness is hard work. But holding onto resentment, anger or pain just perpetuates the harm. Throughout this season of Lent, we are listening in Scripture and learning how to forgive ourselves and others, and how to release and let go of the weight of unforgiveness. 

When we come to an awareness of what we need, we can trust that God will respond, and not depend on our own works or efforts. And the same is true for this task. We must surrender our anger to God and trust God to work to help us forgive.

Let us pray…

Good and gracious God,

Thank you for your rich mercy and great love for us.

Help us fix our eyes on you and set our minds on you,

remembering we belong to you.

Make us agents of grace

that everyone would know your abundant grace.

We pray in the name of your Son, our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.



[i] John Dominic Crossan and Marcus Borg. The First Paul: Reclaiming the Radical Visionary behind the Church’s Conservative Icon.

[ii] Martin Luther. Small Catechism. 39.

[iii] Martin Luther. Large Catechism, 453, 94.

Sunday, February 25, 2024

Second Sunday in Lent (El segundo domingo de Cuaresma)

Marcos 8:31-38

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

Oremos…
Que las palabras de mi boca y las meditaciones de nuestros corazones sean aceptables a tu vista, oh Señor nuestra fuerza y nuestro redentor. Amén.

No es sorprendente si tienes un latigazo espiritual esta semana. Durante los últimos tres domingos, hemos subido a la cima de la montaña de Jesús y sus discípulos Pedro, Santiago y Juan para la transfiguración y luego regresamos al río Jordan para el bautismo de Jesús. Y ahora estamos al final de su ministerio en Galilea.

El hilo común a lo largo de estos eventos es la tentación primero de Pedro, y luego de Jesús, y ahora nuevamente de Pedro para buscar primero, no el reino de Dios, sino la gloria del mundo.

En la transfiguración, Pedro propuso que pudieran quedarse allí en la cima de la cima de Moisés, Elías y Jesús. Después del bautismo de Jesús, Marcos dice que en el desierto, Jesús fue tentado por Satanás. Y ahora, después de escuchar la dura verdad sobre el costo del discipulado, Pedro nuevamente sugiere una manera más cómoda, reprendiendo a Jesús por decirles que el camino de la cruz será de sufrimiento. Aunque Pedro había confesado que Jesús es el Mesías (v.29) solo unos minutos antes, él y los discípulos todavía estaban pensando en el reino y el Mesías en términos del mundo. No entendieron que Cristo el rey era un rey servidor, no imperial, con todas las trampas de los emperadores que ya conocían.

Y cuando Pedro discute con Jesús, puedes escucharlo decir "¡Jesús, di que no es así!" Pero Jesús no vacila. A su vez, reprende severamente a Pedro, diciendo "¡Ponte detrás de mí, Satanás!" (v. 33)

Cuando escuché por primera vez su reprensión, imaginé que Jesús se dirigía a Pedro como si fuera la encarnación de Satanás. A menudo no hablamos sobre la encarnación del diablo o Satanás fuera de los libros o películas, pero esa es la imagen que tenía. Otros dicen que Jesús estaba señalando la tentación que Pedro representaba: la tentación de conformarse al mundo, y "tener [su] mente en las cosas humanas" (v. 33) La reprensión de Pedro era otra versión de la tentación que Jesús había enfrentado en el desierto al comienzo del evangelio de Marcos.

Y hay un segundo significado en sus palabras. Pedro era un discípulo de Jesús. Y un discípulo es un aprendiz o estudiante de su maestro; ellos lo siguen. No deben precipitarse hacia adelante como Pedro a menudo lo hace impulsivamente en los Evangelios. Necesitan "respaldar" literalmente y físicamente al maestro. Por lo menos, esa posición exige una medida de humildad.

Lo que Jesús exige es aún más desafiante; él dice: "Si alguno quiere convertirse en mis seguidores, que se nieguen a sí mismos y tomen su cruz y síganme". (v. 34)

Aunque hay tradiciones religiosas que creen que la autonegaciono el ascetismo es una práctica espiritual necesaria de abstinencia de las cosas que traen satisfacción, no leo las palabras de Cristo de la misma manera.

Otra interpretación de negarnos a nosotros mismos sería negar nuestra propia personalidad, pero recuerdo la advertencia de Cristo en el sermón del monte donde dijo,

Nadie después de encender una lámpara la pone debajo de un cajón, sino sobre el candelero, y asi le da luz a todos en la casa. De la misma manera, deja que tu luz brille ante los demás, para que puedan ver tus buenas obras y dar gloria a tu Padre en el cielo. (Mateo 5: 15-16)

Así que tampoco creo que eso sea lo que El quiere decir al negarnos a nosotros mismos.

Hace unos años, fui parte de un grupo de personas de la iglesia en un retiro, y al lado de las etiquetas con los nombres había un letrero que decía: "Deja tus títulos en la puerta". Todos estábamos allí para aprender unos de otros y de otros mismos. No estábamos allí debido a nuestros títulos o credenciales; estábamos allí porque queríamos profundizar nuestra fe.

A menudo en nuestro mundo moderno, la primera pregunta que hacemos a un nuevo conocido es: "¿A qué te dedicas?" Sé que sería contracultural, pero creo que Jesús estaría feliz si respondiéramos: "Sigo a Jesús".

Creo que esto es lo que Cristo quiere decir cuando nos dice que nos neguemos a nosotros mismos, y que tengamos nuestras mentes en cosas divinas y no en cosas humanas. (v.34-35) Seguir a Jesús significa realinearnos con él y recalibrar nuestras formas de pensar y actuar para que Jesús nos esté guiando en todos los aspectos de nuestras vidas. Significa elegir a Jesús primero. Y es difícil.

Negarme a mí mismo significa que tengo que pensar en el bienestar de los demás, y no solo en mis deseos. Negarme a mí mismo significa que tengo que pensar en cómo hacer las cosas de manera que construyan a la comunidad, y no solo me beneficie yo. Negarme a mí mismo significa derribar las defensas que me ayudan a mantener a los demás a distancia y a invitar a otros a compartir la vida juntos

Uno de mis profesores de predicación, Karoline Lewis, escribió,

Negarse asimismo y tomar tu cruz" nos invita a lo que la cruz también puede significar, no solo la muerte y el sufrimiento, sino que Dios eligiendo las relaciones humanas. La cruz representa el compromiso de Dios con la humanidad. La cruz representa lo que hacemos cuando no estamos en relación con el otro y pensamos solo en nosotros mismos.  Porque ser nosotros mismos es estar seguro de nuestra conexión.[i]

 

Esta comprensión de tomar nuestra cruz y negarnos a nosotros mismos nos reta a recordar que no somos seres solitarios. En el bautismo, somos adoptados en la familia de Dios y nuestra identidad no es solo nuestra. "Estamos conectados con Cristo y con una comunidad de creyentes".[ii] Entonces, esta Cuaresma podemos negarnos a la noción de que no necesitamos comunidad, que no necesitamos relaciones y que no necesitamos un lugar donde pertenecemos y somos amados.

Oremos…

Dios bueno y lleno de gracia, 
Gracias por tu amor que nos mostraste en Jesucristo. Gracias por elegirnos y liberarnos del pecado y la muerte. Fortalécenos por tu Espíritu para negarnos a nosotros mismos y seguir a Jesús, para negarnos a nosotros mismos y confiar en tu abundante amor y misericordia por nosotros. Oramos en el nombre de Jesús.
Amén.


[i] Karoline Lewis. “A Different Kind of Denial”, Dear Working Preacher. Luther Seminary. 2015.

[ii] ibid


Mark 8:31-38

It is not surprising if you have some spiritual whiplash this week. Over the past three Sundays we have climbed to the mountaintop with Jesus and his disciples Peter, James, and John for the transfiguration and then gone back to the river Jordan for Jesus’ baptism. And now we’re at the end of his ministry in Galilee.

The common thread throughout these events is the temptation first of Peter, and then of Jesus, and now again of Peter to seek first, not the kingdom of God, but the glory of the world.

At the transfiguration, Peter proposed that they could stay there on the mountaintop with Moses, Elijah and Jesus. After Jesus’ baptism, Mark says that in the wilderness, Jesus was tempted by Satan. And now, after hearing the hard truth about the cost of discipleship, Peter again suggests a more comfortable way, rebuking Jesus for telling them that the way the cross will be one of suffering. Although Peter had confessed that Jesus is the Messiah (v.29) just minutes earlier, he and the disciples were still thinking of the Kingdom and the Messiah in worldly terms. They did not understand that Christ the King was a servant-king, not an imperial one, with all the trappings of the emperors they already knew.

And when Peter argues with Jesus – you can hear him saying “Jesus , say it’s not so!” But Jesus doesn’t falter. He in turn rebukes Peter harshly, saying “Get behind me, Satan!” (v. 33)

When I first heard his rebuke, I imagined Jesus was addressing Peter as if he were the embodiment of Satan. We don’t often talk about the embodiment of the devil or Satan outside books or movies, but that’s the image I had. Others say that Jesus was calling out the temptation that Peter represented – the temptation to conform to the world, and “set [his] mind on human things” (v. 33) Peter’s rebuke was another version of the temptation Jesus had faced in the wilderness at the beginning of Mark’s gospel.

And there is a second meaning to his words. Peter was a disciple of Jesus. And a disciple is an apprentice or student of their master; they follow them. They should not charge ahead as Peter impulsively does so often in the gospels. They need to literally and physically “get behind” the master. At the very least, that position demands a measure of humility.

What Jesus demands is even more challenging; he says, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” (v. 34)

While there are religious traditions that believe that self-denial or asceticism is a necessary spiritual practice of abstinence from things that bring enjoyment, I don’t read Christ’s words in the same way.

Another understanding of denying ourselves would be to deny our very personhood, but I remember Christ’s admonition in the Sermon on the Mount where he said,

No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven. (Matt. 5:15-16)

So I don’t think that’s what he means by denying ourselves either.

A few years ago, I was part of a group of church people on a retreat, and next to the nametags was a sign that said, “Leave your titles at the door.” We were all there to learn with and from each other. We weren’t there because of our titles or credentials; we were there because we wanted to deepen our faith.

Often in our modern world, the first question we ask a new acquaintance is, “What do you do?” I know it would be counter-cultural, but I think Jesus would be pleased if we responded with, “I follow Jesus.”

I think this is what Christ means when he tells us to deny ourselves, and to set our minds on divine things and not on human things. (v.34-35) Following Jesus means realigning ourselves with Him and recalibrating our ways of thinking and acting so that Jesus is leading us in all aspects of our lives. It means choosing Jesus first. And it’s hard.

To deny myself means that I have to think of the wellbeing of others, and not only my desires. To deny myself means that I have to think about how to do things in ways that build community, and not just benefit me. To deny myself means breaking down the defenses that help me keep others at arms-length and invite others into life together.

One of my preaching professors, Karoline Lewis, wrote,

To “deny yourself and take up your cross” invites us into what the cross can also mean -- not just death and suffering, but God choosing human relationships. The cross represents God’s commitment to humanity. The cross represents what we do when we are not in relationship with the other and think only for ourselves. Because to be ourselves is to be certain of our connectedness.[i]

This understanding of taking up our cross and denying ourselves challenges us to remember that we are not solitary beings. In baptism we are adopted into God’s family and our identity is not ours alone. “We are connected to Christ and to a community of believers.”[ii] So this Lent we can deny ourselves the notion that we don’t need community, that we don’t need relationships, and that we don’t need a place where we belong and are loved.

Let us pray…

Good and gracious God, 
Thank you for your love shown us in Jesus Christ. Thank you for choosing us and freeing us from sin and death. Strengthen us by your Spirit to deny ourselves and follow Jesus, to deny ourselves and trust in Your abundant love and mercy for us. We pray in Jesus’ name.
Amen.


[i] Karoline Lewis. “A Different Kind of Denial”, Dear Working Preacher. Luther Seminary. 2015.

[ii] ibid 

Sunday, February 18, 2024

First Sunday in Lent

 Mark 1:9-15

For the preacher it’s always a challenge to preach a well-known text. Because as you are hearing the text, you think you already know the story. And in a year like this one when we heard this text just six weeks ago for the Baptism of our Lord, and we’ve already explored what it means to hear God’s voice speaking, the challenge only grows. So, what is God saying to us this time?

In baptism we see how we are loved by God and by God’s grace, we are set free to live as God’s children. But it isn’t always going to be comfortable.

Often in his ministry Jesus goes off to a deserted place, and we imagine a place of quiet solitude and peace, where he soaks in prayerful silence, seeking comfort and guidance.

What happens here in Mark, after his own baptism isn’t that.

Mark tells us that the Spirit drove Jesus out into the wilderness.(1:12) It could be translated as the Spirit threw Jesus or cast him out. The Spirit’s action wasn’t a gentle, quiet leading; it was forceful and unyielding.

As I read this text, I think we are meant to remember other times when God’s followers were in the wilderness. 

Hagar wandered in the wilderness with her son Ishmael. (Genesis 21:14) Joseph’s brothers threw him into a pit in the wilderness. (Genesis 37:22) Moses was with his flock in the wilderness when he encountered God in the blazing bush (Exodus 3:1-2) The Israelites were in the wilderness after Moses brought them out of Egypt. (Exodus 13:20; Numbers 32:13) And then they were in the wilderness again during the years of exile in Babylon. (Isaiah and Jeremiah)

Throughout the history of our ancestors in faith, “wilderness” has been synonymous with times of testing, training and preparation.

I don’t subscribe to the idea that “God doesn’t give us more than we can handle” but I do believe that God is with us in all that we face. God doesn’t make it easy, or comfortable, but helps us make our way through difficulties.

When Jesus goes into the wilderness, he is separated from everything and everyone he has known, except God. It had to be disruptive and disorienting.

Mark doesn’t give us any of the details about the temptations; we have to go to Luke and Matthew to get those. (Luke 4; Matthew 4) But writing about the temptations, German theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer said, “[All of the temptations] are one temptation – to separate Jesus from the Word of God.”[i]

What futility!

Jesus cannot be separated from God’s Word. As John’s prologue tells us:

1 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2 He was in the beginning with God. 3 All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. (John 1:1-3)

So, of course, they fail. Neither the devil, nor the temptations, nor the wilderness and its wild beasts can defeat God.

In the wilderness, Jesus survived through obedience to God’s Word.  And, so do we.

In the wilderness, when life is disrupted and disorienting, and everything else is stripped away, we remember whose we are and live into our identity as God’s children.

In “Go to the Limits of your Longing” which reads as if God is speaking, the Austrian poet Rainer Marie Rilke [ry nr mr ee uh reel kuh] writes, “Don’t let yourself lose me.”[ii]

It would be easy in the wilderness to forget God’s way and look for the easy path, to look for a way out or a shortcut, well-worn by others. But, instead, we return again and again to God’s Word, which challenges and convicts.

Confronted by the Law found there, we must wrestle with our sin, our weakness and our failings. But thanks be to God, that’s not where the story ends. God never leaves us in despair. In God’s Word we experience the Good News of Jesus Christ. (Mark 1:1) and God’s love for us renews us and strengthens us for all that lies ahead. We face temptation and choose Christ anyway. We pray and we choose the way of forgiveness and mercy for ourselves and for others.

The late Catholic priest Edward Hays wrote prayers for pilgrimages and one of the wild places he wrote about is the human heart. Writing about God’s gift of pardon, he said,

I have searched for it in every pocket and hiding place;

I cannot find it, your gift of Self.

I know it is here, buried beneath my pain, somewhere in a back corner of my heart:

but for now it is lost.

 And then he continued,

Remind me ten times and more of all that you have forgiven me – without even waiting for my sorrow, the very instant that I slipped and sinned.

Remind me ten thousand times and more of your endless absolution, not even sorrow required on my part, so broad the bounty of your love.

Yes, I can—I will—forgive as you have forgiven me.[iii]

Hays reminds us that God accompanies us and reminds us of whose we are and what it looks like to embody God’s love. We come through the wilderness changed and transformed.

Oh, yes, I said it,

we come through changed.

How can we not?

When the Spirit drives us into the wilderness, it can’t be for nothing. As one preacher said, “If we wanted to go, the Spirit wouldn’t be needed!”[iv]

So, this Lent as we remember how the Spirit drove Jesus into the wilderness, I wonder where the Spirit is pushing us to go? As a congregation and individually, what are we resisting? And how will we respond?

Let us pray…[v]

Good and Gracious God,

Thank you for your Son’s obedience, even to the cross,

that we would know Your love for us all.

Help us cling to our baptisms,

where we are drowned and reborn by the water and fire of your Spirit.

Sustain us with Your Word and comfort us with Your presence.

Driven by your Spirit, make us unafraid of what lies ahead. Amen.


[i] Dietrich Bonhoeffer. Creation and Fall. 105.

[ii] https://onbeing.org/poetry/go-to-the-limits-of-your-longing

[iii] Edward Hays. “Psalm of Pardon”, Prayers for a Planetary Pilgrim. Ave Maria Press. 2008. 227.

[iv] Delmer Chilton and John Fairless, Lectionary Lab Lent Workshop.

[v] Adapted from Stanley Hauerwas, Prayers Plainly Spoken (Wipf & Stock, 2003), p.21.

Wednesday, February 14, 2024

Ash Wednesday

 Psalm 51

In his book Tales of the Hasidim, the late Jewish philosopher Martin Buber recalls the writings of Rabbi Simcha Bunin, a Polish Hasidic leader of the nineteenth century. Bunim wrote,

Everyone must have two pockets, with a note in each pocket, so that [you] can reach into one or the other, depending on the need. When feeling lowly and depressed, discouraged or disconsolate, one should reach into the right pocket, and there, find the words:

Bish'vili nivra ha'olam (bish-vil-lee nee-vRAH ha-oh-l’arm)

“The world was created for me” (BT Sanhedrin 37B).

 

But when feeling high and mighty one should reach into the left pocket and find the words:

V'anokhi afar v'efer” (vah-no-khee a-far a-fair)

“I am but dust and ashes”(Gen. 18:27). [i]

"Today is the day when Christians around the world dig into the left pocket to see what realizations, and shadowed blessings, may be found there."[ii]

Today is the day when we follow the prophet Joel's instruction:

Return to the Lord, your God, for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love, and relents from punishing." (2:13)

At the very least, today is a day to begin to reorient ourselves toward God and to begin to draw near to God, as we enter into Lent.

Lent is a season of self-examination and repentance, and, before we say, "We follow Jesus. For what do we need to repent?" let's dig a little deeper into that pocket and examine what we find, as we reflect on the words of Psalm 51.

Most scholars agree that the psalms were not written by David and the superscriptions - the words that tell us about the psalm’s purpose or who its author was - were added much later by editors. Those editors chose to associate particular psalms with events in David's life, and while sometimes connections between sacred texts and narratives can be vague or tenuous, Psalm 51 certainly provides the response we would hope the king would have had after Nathan confronted him about his adultery with Bathsheba and his complicity in Uriah's murder.

One of the patterns we see in the psalms is that say what we already know to be true about God, and then they tell God what’s wrong and then they ask God to respond.

Here, the psalmist begins his plea to God by acknowledging God's steadfast love and abundant mercy.

And then he confesses his sin, and importantly, he doesn't confess one particular action, but he confesses his condition of being a sinner, saying, “I was born guilty, a sinner when my mother conceived me." (51:5) That language makes us uncomfortable because it implicates even the youngest children among us. And it exposes us when we like to think we can get away with “ignoring or hiding the unpolished parts of our lives.”[iii]

But, as Lutherans we believe that we are "wholly saint and wholly sinner" at the same time, from the day we are born.

Confession was never intended to be torturous or punishing. Instead, in confession, we acknowledge our sin before the God who has known us since we were knitted together in our mothers’ wombs, (Psalms 139:13-14) because we have confidence in God's immeasurable grace and forgiveness.

The psalmist recognizes this too, addressing God and saying, "You desire truth in the inward being..." (v. 6) God doesn't want us to play games; God wants our honest reflection and repentance.

The psalm continues, asking God for God to act in accordance with who we know God to be.

Just as at the font we mark ourselves with the sign of the cross and remember that in our baptism we were adopted into the family of God, today we are marked with crosses of ash, to remember that God washes our dusty selves and sanctifies us. (51:7b)

Our plea "Create in me a clean heart, O God, and put a new and right spirit within me." (51:10) recognizes God's power in our lives to forgive us and create new life for us. Creating us anew, God uses the old stuff, and we see how what we've experienced and who we have been remain a part of who we are today, redeemed by God's love and mercy.

Redemption and reconciliation are possible only because of God’s love for us.

This Lenten season, as a congregation we are seeking to live well in Christ and to practice forgiveness with all our heart, soul, strength and mind, exploring what it means to have the steadfast assurance that God’s mercies are new every morning,(Lamentations 3:23) and that forgiveness is ours to give away.

Just as we come today to confess our sin, receive forgiveness and remember God’s grace because we love God, we want to pursue forgiveness of ourselves and others, not because we are motivated by obligation or fear, but by love.[iv]

And as we recognize the ways that Christ’s love transforms us, I wonder if we can name the old things that are being made new and see how parts of our stories find new purpose when we see them as part of our story with Christ.

Let us pray…

God of life and death, of forgiveness and blessing,
Have mercy on us, according to your steadfast love
according to your abundant mercy, blot out our transgressions.
Wash us thoroughly from our iniquity and cleanse us from our sin.
Help us return to you to repent and to release.
Crack open our tired, aching, chained up hearts to Your mystery and healing hope.
We know we are dust, and to dust we shall return,
and in the midst of all of that, we return to You.
Come, O God, make haste to save us.
Amen.[v]


[i] “Two Pockets," Book Two: The Later Masters [New York: Schocken Books, 1947], pp. 249-250).

[ii] Sundays and Seasons Resources for Ash Wednesday.

[iii] Eric Mathis. Commentary on Psalm 51:1-17. Workingpreacher.org.

[iv] “The ‘Why’ of Love and Forgiveness’, Practicing Forgiveness with All Your Heart, Soul, Strength and Mind.

[v] adapted from Psalm 51, RevGalBlogPals Wednesday praye