Sunday, September 15, 2019

Lectionary24C/ Proper 19

Luke 15:1 - 10 (11-32)

Maybe you remember: last January a three-year old boy was missing for several days in eastern North Carolina. When family members couldn’t find him, they called the police and local, state and federal law enforcement and hundreds of volunteers searched for him, aided by dogs and drones and airplanes. Even here in North Carolina, January weather isn’t hospitable and they were searching in cold temperatures, heavy rain and wind. Happily, after three days of searching, the boy was found, wet, cold and tangled up in some briars in the woods, but alive! Imagine the celebration that took place when he was found!

In today’s gospel Jesus tells three parables about being lost and being found, about searching and about celebrating.

Parables are stories that Jesus told that say something about the character of God or God’s reign or kingdom. The parables compare God and God’s kingdom to the familiar world in which those hearing him lived. So the parables use yeast and bread, widows and shepherds, merchants and rules to explain some aspect of who God is and what it looks like to live as God’s people.

Our lectionary reading only includes two of the three parables Jesus told that day, but I am including the third one because the story is incomplete without it.

Often, like he does today, he asks his audience directly, “Which of you…?” Any “safe” distance we have from his story dissolves with this opening question. He is talking to us!

In the first parable that Jesus tells here, a shepherd has one hundred sheep and one goes missing and the shepherd leaves the 99 to search for the lost one.

In the second one, a woman has ten coins and one goes missing and the woman leaves the 9 to search for the lost one.

And, in the third, a man loses one of his two sons when the young man takes his inheritance and leaves.

Often my first response to these three parables is to identify as one of the lost, and to experience deep gratitude for being found, for knowing God and returning to the Church where I found a community.

And that’s ok, as far as it goes, but as Amy-Jill Levine, Professor of New Testament and Jewish Studies at Vanderbilt writes, Jesus’ followers would have known that “parables and the tellers of parables were there to prompt them to see the world in a different way, to challenge, and at times to indict.”[i]

Taking another look at these parables, one of my questions is, “What does it mean to be lost?”

One popular interpretation is that the lost are the unrepentant sinners, people who have strayed from the Way of Jesus or even more deliberately refused to follow him.

But as the story of the three-year-old illustrates, sometimes we “become” lost. Our absence is noticed; we are missed by people who love us.

And other times, we experience being lost because we are overwhelmed by circumstances and unsure about what the next step is.

The sheep probably didn’t mean to get separated from the flock, and certainly the coin, which was inanimate, didn’t do anything to get lost. Only the son chose to go away.

And neither the sheep nor the coin repent. We can view the son’s return home as a repentant action, but it’s more likely that he returned because he was confident that his father’s love for him was greater than a desire to hold him accountable.

As I was listening again to these parables, I remembered the Genesis 18 story of Abraham bargaining with God. He stood before the Lord and argued for a city to be saved from destruction if there were fifty, forty, thirty, twenty or even just ten righteous men in it. Eventually, God promised mercy
even if there were just ten.

What we hear in these parables is that God’s mercy reaches even to the one. As a shepherd God leaves the 99, trusting them to protect and provide for each other so that the lost one can be restored to the flock.

As the woman with the missing coin, God lights a lamp, shining it into all the dark corners of the house, all “the places where demons dwell”, sweeping and searching until she finds the one that is lost.

And then in the third story, we see God pictured as a compassionate father who sees the son “while he was still far off” and runs to him to “put his arms around him and [kiss] him”. (v. 20)

With these parables, Jesus challenges us that we should be restless and unsatisfied, as long as there are lost ones.

That doesn’t just mean as long as there are open seats in the pews,
but as long as we have neighbors who are separated from the community because they have been lost in the crowd, overlooked or forgotten;
as long as we have neighbors who are isolated or alone;
as long as we have neighbors who have made mistakes or chosen poorly.

I had the opportunity this week to sit down with Pastor Michael Gullatte who is the executive director of the Cleveland County Rescue Mission and catch up on their work in our community. As most of you know, the rescue mission began with a men’s shelter in the building behind our property and when the men moved to their new building on Buffalo Street, the rescue mission opened the Heart to Heart women’s shelter in the bright yellow building next to us. During our conversation, Pastor Gullatte told me several of the men and women’s stories but one stood out:

A woman in a rehab program in Virginia was told that when the program ended, she would be turned out on the street. The facility gave her phone and internet access and she set to work finding a place where she could go next and get back on her feet. Unlike most of us, she didn’t have a safety net of family members who were waiting for her. When she tried to find a place, she was turned down more than eighty times. Her children were in Rutherfordton and on her last day in the Virginia facility, as she searched for someplace that would put her closer to them, she found Heart to Heart. She called and they said she could come there. And in the time she has been at Heart to Heart, she has accumulated sobriety and been reconciled with her children.

At the end of her long bus ride from Roanoke, she found a community that welcomes her as a beloved child of God, that celebrates her gifts and rejoices with her.

Through the parables, Jesus teaches us that, in faith, the fullness of God is in each of us, but we are not complete as long as there are lost ones.

I hold together both my gratitude for being found
and my conviction that I am God’s hands and feet, responsible for searching, looking and watching with compassion for those who are lost.

In each of these three parables, the lost do not quietly slip into the back pew during worship, or just pick up where they left off. Instead, the shepherd, the woman and the father invite everyone to rejoice with them.

As I thought about the celebrations we have today when we might call friends and neighbors to rejoice with us, I thought first of retirements and graduations, and then weddings or the birth or adoption of a child. All of these are times when we are on the cusp of something new and not yet known. There is anticipation and some uncertainty but there is hope.

When the lost are restored to their places alongside us, in our lives and at our table, we are complete and whole again, and we celebrate even as we look ahead to what is yet unfolding.

Let us pray…
Loving God,
Through Your Son Jesus Christ you give us your kingdom and count as Your children.
Thank you for your abundant love and mercy that searches and finds every last one of us.
Encourage us by Your Holy Spirit and send us out with compassion for the lost – the outcast, the lonely and the grieving;
Bring us to the day that we too can rejoice together at the wholeness of the family of God.
We pray in the name of Jesus, our Lord and Savior.
Amen.

[i] Levine, Amy-Jill. Short Stories by Jesus (p. 4). HarperOne. Kindle Edition.

Sunday, September 8, 2019

Lectionary 23C/ Proper 18

Luke 14:25-33

In this morning’s gospel, Jesus continues to speak hard words as he and the disciples travel toward Jerusalem. But the words he speaks aren’t just to the twelve; it’s not like we’re eavesdropping on an intimate conversation in the upper room. Luke reports that Jesus is speaking to large crowds who have been following him, when he turns and says,

“Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.” (Luke 14:27)

The scene reminds me of a story my mom tells from her first days in college when a speaker told the assembly of freshmen, “Look to your right and your left, only one of you will graduate.”

Whatever the crowd was feeling, if they hoped to hear encouragement or affirmation, they instead were stung by words of admonition and caution.

It’s important to say out loud that, too often, “carrying your cross” has been taken to mean that one must endure unjust suffering or abuse. Or it has been turned into the lie that says, “God won’t give you more than you can handle.”

Following Jesus never gives anyone permission to abuse us spiritually, emotionally or physically. But faithful discipleship does not put us in a protective bubble where nothing bad can happen. It doesn’t mean that we won’t be overwhelmed by grief or trauma, or suffer depression or anxiety. What it means is that God is present with us, weeps when we weep, and comforts us when we are hurting.

We must learn to hear Jesus’ words differently.

The call to carry the cross is a call to follow Jesus to Calvary or Golgotha, to accept death as the only way to resurrection, to submit to dying with Christ, that we might find life.
It demands that we let go of everything else because if our hands and hearts and minds are full of the stuff of the world, we are not free to carry the cross. In verse 33 Jesus tells the crowds, “none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions.” (Luke 14:33) Eugene Peterson puts it this way in his paraphrase called The Message:

Simply put, if you’re not willing to take what is dearest to you, whether plans or people, and kiss it good-bye, you can’t be my disciple.

In the book Screwtape Letters CS Lewis introduces us to a highly placed assistant to Satan whose name is “Screwtape”. The book is written as a compilation of letters between Screwtape and his nephew “Wormwood”, an inexperienced demon who is working particularly hard to corrupt one young man. In one of his letters, Screwtape writes:
Talk to him about ‘moderation in all things’. If you can get him to the point of thinking that ‘religion is all very well up to a point’, you can feel quite happy about his soul. A moderated religion is as good for us as no religion at all – and more amusing. (46)
There is no moderation in Jesus’ words.

The call to discipleship is to choose the life of faith even when it requires sacrifice.
In Deuteronomy as Moses addressed the Israelites before they crossed the Jordan, he told them, “Choose life so that you and your descendants may live, loving the LORD your God, obeying him, and holding fast to him…” (Deuteronomy 30:19-20)

Moses reminded them what their own stories were, including the bondage they had experienced in Egypt, and cautioned them not to succumb to fear as they looked ahead to the Promised Land, but to choose life.

To carry the cross is to choose life.
Throughout the gospels, Jesus gives us examples of people who choose “good things” over following Jesus. They choose to honor their parents or provide for their family; they choose to care responsibly for animals and land; or they choose to finish their work. Clinging to what is good and responsible, they miss out on life with Jesus.

As Christians, to choose life demands that we go beyond simply being good and responsible and commit ourselves to serving God, holding fast to the Way of Jesus, in all that we say and do.

We regularly make commitments to employers, to our families, to groups where we volunteer or whose activities we enjoy. Daily, weekly and monthly, our calendars are filled with our commitments. As Jesus describes, we look at each one and weigh the cost – the time, the money, other opportunities – and we decide which ones are worth it.

So why are we so reluctant to make this commitment – to follow Jesus and let go of everything and everyone that would distract us from serving God?

The challenge to carry our cross and let go of everything else is frightening. And despite our faith,
and the promises we have from God,
and the evidence we have of God’s faithfulness to generations before us, we are afraid. We don’t remember the assurance Jesus gave us in Luke 12 when he said, “Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom.” (v.32)

We only trust Jesus up to a point. It’s easy to trust him on Sunday morning, but then we set apart the other parts of our lives as if they have nothing to do with the Gospel or Jesus. We want God to stay out of how we vote, how we spend the money we’ve earned and how we see other people in the world.

But God wants more than an hour on Sunday mornings and God speaks to every part of who we are, not just the “church-y” or religious parts.

Time and again, we choose the comfort of what is known and familiar, even when it is bondage to sin, which is death,
because it is separation from God.

The Good News is that, time and again,
God forgives us, inviting us again to choose life,
to love God wholly and completely with all of our being.


When we choose life – following Jesus and loving God – we are freed from the burdens of the past and we are freed from fear.
We choose a new thing, not yet revealed, a living future where nothing will be the same.
We choose to enter into the mystery of God’s future for us, trusting in God’s promises.
We open ourselves to transformation and to metamorphosis, trusting that God is at work in us and creating new life.

Let us pray…
Life-giving God,
Thank you for your forgiveness and mercy when we turn from you out of fear or selfishness;
Thank you for the persistent call to follow your Son Jesus in every part of our lives;
By your Holy Spirit, give us courage to answer with all we are and all we have.
We pray in the name of Jesus, our Lord and Savior.
Amen.

Sunday, September 1, 2019

Lectionary 22C/ Proper 17

Luke 14:1, 7-14

Hearing this gospel text, a colleague joked that it made her grateful for place cards and I added my own gratitude for round tables!

But all joking aside, Jesus isn’t merely providing etiquette lessons or serving as an event coordinator in today’s gospel. His instructions about where one should sit when you’re invited to a feast, and who should be included when you are doing the inviting are blunt criticisms of the wisdom of the time.

In first century culture, there was a hierarchy to relationships that was not easily breached. Wealthy patrons controlled resources and meted them out to people of lower status based on personal knowledge and favoritism. Brokers, such as temple priests and city officials, mediated the relationships between patrons and those who needed the resources, and therefore had power of their own, power to determine access and to influence the patrons. And then there were the majority of the people, who were dependent upon the generosity of the patrons and the favor of the brokers. They paid for their favor with public professions of loyalty, and criticism would have been whispered or muted altogether.[i]

Also, at this time, the elite were separated physically from “the ‘am ha-’aretz”, the “people of the land” who were the laborers and tradespeople.[ii] The less influence or power you held, the farther from the city center you lived. And the cities had walls and gates that were locked at the end of the day, shutting out people who were undesirable or landless.[iii]

Likewise, table fellowship was designed to “keep out” the wrong sort of people. “Dinners were important social occasions that were used to cement social relations.”[iv] Perhaps the Pharisee invited Jesus to dinner because he believed he was his equal but it’s just as probable that the religious leader wanted to put the outsider in his debt.

Knowingly or not, when the Pharisee invited Jesus to the Sabbath meal, he set the stage for conflict. Jesus had already, on three previous occasions, been criticized for healing people on the Sabbath day, and in the verses that our reading skips, he heals a fourth man; only this time, his opponents are silent.

So now Jesus is there with the Pharisee and his other guests, and just as Jesus wasn’t content to let a hurting human being suffer one day more, he doesn’t hesitate to criticize the behavior he witnesses as they gather. He does not hold his tongue out of polite deference to his host. As Martin Luther would say, “He calls a thing what it is.”

The scene Luke describes is one of people scheming and conniving to get to the best seats at the table. As at celebrations you may have seen, the center table was the place of honor and the farther you move out from there, the less importance your seat holds. It’s human nature to want to move in toward the center and toward the position of power.

But Jesus cautions the dinner guests against that compulsion, arguing they should allow others to be seated first, and wait for the host to decide if they should be moved higher.

And he doesn’t stop there. Knowing that each has been invited, and because of their reciprocal relationships, will be expected to host in turn, he tells them whom they should include among their guests, saying,
when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind. And you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you, for you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous. (Luke 14:13-14)
It’s easy for us to dismiss the instructions Jesus gives,
believing we wouldn’t treat people as currency and relationships as bargaining chips or expect loyalty or privilege in return for our generosity.
It’s easy for us to forget how insulated our lives can become and how rarely we encounter people with different backgrounds, social or economic status.
And it’s easy to assume that everyone we know sees the world as we do (or at least they will when they come to their senses!)

But if we think Jesus isn’t talking to us, we miss out on what he is describing, which is the very reign of God:
  • The reign of God that sees a person’s worth comes not from their position, status or wealth, or someone external measure of the person, but from their beloved createdness as a child of God.
  • The reign of God that breaks down walls, crumbles barriers and erases division and replenishes love.
  • The reign of God that is expansive, welcoming and healing because all of us are impoverished when we come before God. Our brokenness may be hidden better than our neighbor’s, but it is vividly displayed to God.
Every time we gather for Holy Communion, we are God’s guests at the heavenly banquet table. God, in divine goodness, flings wide open the doors and tells us to, “Come and feast at the table!”

One of my favorite practices from the School of the Spirit that I completed last year was that as we entered the retreat house, we left our titles at the door. We came into that space just as we were, without our resumés. To willingly empty ourselves and stand apart was a counter-cultural practice in a world that defines me by what I do, what I have, or what others say about me.

We don’t come to the Table seeking honor for ourselves, but seeking mercy. We come humble, stripped of the accomplishments we have and the accolades the world awards. We come hungry for the good gifts God offers us. And we are fed and nourished, and healed, to go out into the world as witnesses to God’s boundless love and mercy.

And then, following Jesus, we are told to extend the divine invitation, especially to those who have been excluded, dismissed or forgotten. We are reminded, as theologian John P. Burgess writes, that “Christ sits at all of our tables, calling us into fellowship with people from beyond our immediate circle.” [v]

Sending us into the world, beyond our comfort and norms, Jesus challenges us to invite others to the table, not to fill seats or make them indebted to us, but so that they would know God’s love and mercy in their lives. We have opportunities in the next few weeks for fellowship and service throughout next weekend’s “God’s Work, Our Hands” activities and in the following weekend’s congregation picnic, so I encourage you to ask,
“Who needs the comfort of knowing God sees and loves them?”
“Who could I invite to come to the table with me?”

Let us pray…
Gracious and welcoming God,
Thank you for hosting a banquet where all are invited and all are fed.
Thank you for your boundless compassion, mercy and love, shown by Your Son Jesus.
Forgive us when we turn in on ourselves and seek our own gains, disregarding the others around us.
By Your Holy Spirit, give us courage to speak up for the poor and dispossessed and to extend a divine welcome to all whom we meet.
We pray in the name of Jesus, our Lord and Savior.
Amen.

[i] Bruce Malina;Richard L. Rohrbaugh. Social Science Commentary on the Synoptic Gospels (Kindle Location 1138). Kindle Edition.
[ii] Malina and Rohrbaugh. Kindle Location 6218.
[iii] Malina and Rohrbaugh. Kindle Location 6234.
[iv] Malina and Rohrbaugh. Kindle Locations 6185-6186.
[v] Feasting on the Gospels--Luke, Volume 2: A Feasting on the Word Commentary. Westminster John Knox Press. Kindle Edition.

Sunday, August 25, 2019

Lectionary 21C/ Proper 16

Luke 13:10-17

In today’s gospel the synagogue leader insists that honoring the law of sabbath-keeping is more important than caring for a hurting person in their midst, that healing and an end to long suffering can wait one more day.

And then Jesus addresses not only the leader but the whole crowd who had been listening to his teaching, calling them all hypocrites and showing them how they routinely extend more mercy to their livestock than they are offering to the woman he has healed.


It’s the second time in recent weeks, that Jesus calls the people around him “hypocrites.” And his rebuke stings whenever I hear it.

Imagine being in the audience and feeling the heat rise on your faces as Jesus speaks and you are caught in a completely human moment of wanting to do the “right” thing, the lawful thing, the God-fearing thing, and completely missing the God-loving thing.

Now imagine being the woman at the center of the gospel story. Luke doesn’t tell us a lot about her; she’s introduced as “a woman who was bent over and was quite unable to stand up straight.” (v. 11)

Unlike some of the women who appear in his gospel, we don’t learn her name; we only hear Jesus refer to her as a daughter of Abraham.

We don’t know her age either; I think we often assume she’s an old woman because she is described as being bent over and “crippled for eighteen years” (v. 11) and we imagine someone whose spine has been curved by disease or who suffers from muscle weakness and cannot hold their head up. But it’s possible she was a young woman who suffered since childhood or even infancy.

Without any other description, we have to imagine her appearance. When you are bent over in pain or doubled over by illness, you cannot breathe deeply or stretch your cramped muscles. When you can’t stand up straight, you cannot look another person in the eye or gaze up at a bright blue sky or starry night; your view of the world is limited to what you can see from your waist or abdomen.

She appears at the synagogue when Jesus is teaching, but we don’t know if she was a regular worshiper or if her appearance is rare – maybe she only came that day because she had heard about the miracles that Jesus had done. I think we assume she wouldn’t have been at synagogue frequently because of the stigma one carried when it was believed they were afflicted by an evil spirit; the Jewish laws about ritual cleanliness likely would have forced her into isolation.

But Luke doesn’t say her appearance unsettled the people in the synagogue. Perhaps she had become such a familiar sight that she had faded into the background of the community’s life, becoming invisible to the people around her.

But Jesus, Jesus sees her, he calls her and he heals her.

As much as Jesus’ rebuke stings, I don’t think it was mean-spirited name calling and I don’t think he was wrong. Jesus was calling the people
to live into the whole fullness of their lives with God,
to be vulnerable before God and others, and
to experience God’s healing.


In modern life, hypocrites are people whose actions contradict their words, but more plainly, the Greek word means “performers” or “mask wearers”.

Jesus called the people out because they were wearing masks, pretending to understand and follow the commandments or the Torah, but forgetting his teaching that the greatest commandment is, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself.” (Luke 10:27)

Like the people in the crowd that day, many of us wear masks out in the world. We put on the mask of a faithful worshiper but struggle beyond those red doors in our daily lives. We pick and choose which scenes of our lives we will share, like actors on a set.

The woman in the gospel couldn’t hide her affliction. Stigma exists around many modern illnesses including depression, anxiety and addiction. Often discussions about money remain taboo as well and financial stress is hidden. We are quick to answer, “How are you?” with only the most cheerful highlights and hide our burdens from the people in our lives.

The Good News is that God sees us and loves us as we are, without any masks – nothing in our lives is hidden or concealed from God – and God promises healing and restoration.
So, what keeps you bent over?
What weight or burden do you carry?
Is it visible to others, or do you keep it hidden from view?

Luke tells us that Jesus heals the woman, and, “she stood up straight and began praising God.”(v. 13)

As we imagine being the woman in this story, I wonder too what her praise looked and sounded like. It wasn’t muted thanks, whispered softly. Was it shouted hallelujahs, singing or dancing?

We also don’t know what she did when she left the synagogue. Was she like the Gerasene man who went about the city proclaiming what God had done for him. (Luke 8) Or the Samaritan woman at the well who told everyone that Jesus had known everything about her. (John 4)

There’s so much we don’t know about this woman and her story, but she shows us that we are invited into life with God, with each other and with the world and God is active in our lives, seeing us and all that we carry, and helping us live our lives fully. Whatever afflicts us, whatever weighs us down, we are invited to claim our freedom and release and celebrate the grace and peace that God gives us.

Let us pray.
Holy God,
We give you thanks for the presence of Your Son Jesus who sees us and knows us by name.
Relieve our burdens and take away our masks that we may live fully as Your beloved children,
transformed by your grace in our lives.
Help us see the people around us who are vulnerable and give us compassion to love them.
We pray in the name of Jesus, our Lord and Savior.
Amen.

Sunday, August 18, 2019

Lectionary 20C/ Proper 15

Luke 12:49-56

I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to hear Jesus call out, “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.” (Matt. 11:28)

But that isn’t what we hear from Jesus in today’s gospel. Far from being the Comforter offering us refuge, here Jesus announces he has come to bring fire and division. It’s not exactly the image of the reconciling God of love who we meet in other parts of the gospels.

Speaking to his disciples still, Jesus tells them, “I have a baptism with which to be baptized, and what stress I am under until it is completed!” (Luke 12:50) Like the candy bar commercial that says, “You’re not you when you’re hungry,” this Jesus doesn’t sound like the Jesus we think we know when we sing “Jesus Loves Me.” One colleague suggested she’d like to take him aside and offer him a cup of tea.

But maybe that dissonance is exactly what Jesus intends – he wants to get our attention and he wants us to understand the urgency of the gospel that calls us to “stand before God with open hearts, seeking God’s forgiveness and the courage to live a Christlike life”.[i]

Jesus’ stress is not the anxiety of everyday life, but the weight of mercy. He understands that compassion, mercy and justice shatter the status quo and that discipleship demands choosing sides. [ii]

As much as we appreciate the constant flame that represents the light of Christ in our worship or enjoy the flickering glow of a summer campfire,

when Jesus says, “I came to bring fire to the earth” (Luke 12:49a) many of us hear a threat of hellfire and damnation, retribution or destruction.

But fire is used throughout Scripture, and in fact in many world religions, as a symbol of divine presence, for both blessing and punishment.[iii]

Our Old Testament text comes from Jeremiah whose prophetic ministry began in 626 BCE and ended sometime after 586. Denouncing false prophets in an oracle of the Lord to the people of Judah, he says, “Is not my word like fire…and like a hammer that breaks a rock in pieces?” (Jeremiah 23:29) Fire destroys what is false.

Another prophet Zechariah, who was also a priest, was born in exile in Babylonia, he was among those who returned to Judah in 538 BCE.[iv] Speaking of the remnant of God’s people who would be restored to proper relationship with God, he spoke of refining fire, saying, “This third I will bring into the fire; I will refine them like silver and test them like gold.” (Zechariah 13:9)

Third Isaiah also speaks to the post-exilic people, saying, “See, I have refined you, but not like silver; I have tested you in the furnace of adversity.” (Isa 48:10)

A refiner’s fire is a very intense fire used to purify metals; after the metal is heated to a molten state, the refiner then skims off the dross that floats to the top. In another refining process, the ore is melted and then hot air is blown “over the surface of the melted metal. The lead [changes] to lead oxide which, in a powdered condition, [is] driven away by the air blast” and what remains is a silver substance.[v] Fire purifies, stripping away the gunk and garbage we accumulate.

And images of fire like these continue in the New Testament. In Luke’s gospel, when John the Baptizer announces Jesus is coming, he proclaims,

He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and with fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand, to clear his threshing floor and to gather the wheat into his granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire. (Luke 3:16-17)

Pastor and scholar Fred Craddock suggests, “The primary goal is to save the wheat, not to burn the chaff.” (Craddock, 49) And again in Acts, we have the story of Pentecost when “Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among [the apostles], and a tongue rested on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit.” (Acts 2:3-4) Fire signifies divine activity and presence.

New Testament scholar Matt Skinner writes, “The flame that Jesus wants to kindle is a fire of change, the fire of God’s active presence in the world. No wonder he is so eager to strike the match.”[vi]

Writer Annie Dillard captured the exasperation we hear from Jesus. She wrote:
On the whole, I do not find Christians, outside of the catacombs, sufficiently sensible of conditions. Does anyone have the foggiest idea what sort of power we so blithely invoke? …. It is madness to wear ladies’ straw hats and velvet hats to church; we should all be wearing crash helmets. Ushers should issue life preservers and signal flares; they should lash us to our pews. For the sleeping god may wake someday and take offense, or the waking god may draw us out to where we can never return.[vii]
Jesus wanted his disciples and all of us who follow Him to see that baptism in Christ is not fire insurance; it is a high-risk activity. In fact, it demands our death!

Lutheran scholar Steven Paulson defines baptism as “God’s attack on sin by attacking the sinner; it is death.”[viii] Paulson writes,

Sin’s power is to point the finger; death is to believe sin….But to believe sin is to call God a liar and negate Christ’s cross. Baptism is the only thing that stops the voice of sin along with its accusing finger once and for all.[ix]

In baptism Christ puts to death to the ‘old Adam’ and gives birth to a new creation, and in Christ, our lives are no longer captive to sin, death and the devil. Luther taught that, when sin or the devil tempts us, we must boast, “I am baptized!” claiming the promise of faith we receive in baptism. Paulson writes, “Faith says to sin what law cannot: “But I have died! Why are you still pestering me?”[x]

Baptism is our inauguration into a new life in Christ. We cannot keep the status quo or leave the hard work to others; Christ calls us to follow, and through God’s promised presence and activity in our lives, the Holy Spirit continues to sanctify us and urges us forward.

Let us pray…
Holy God,
We give thanks for your mercy and forgiveness.
When we fail to remember the freedom of our baptized life, startle and awaken us to Your call on our lives.
Refine us and remove the dross that tarnishes our reflection of You and our witness in the world.
By your Holy Spirit encourage us and empower us to strive for justice and peace and serve all people, following the example of Your Son.
We pray in the name of Jesus, our Lord and Savior.
Amen.

[i] Patricia Lull. Feasting on the Word. Kindle edition.
[ii] Richard Carlson. Feasting on the Word. Kindle edition.
[iii] Gail Ramshaw. “Fire”, Treasures Old and New: Images in the Lectionary. 161.
[iv] NIV, p. 1405.
[v] https://biblehub.com/topical/r/refining.htm, accessed 8/16/19
[vi] Matt Skinner. “Commentary on Luke 12:49-56”. workingpreacher.org
[vii] Annie Dillard. Teaching a Stone to Talk.
[viii] Steven D. Paulson. Lutheran Theology. 155.
[ix] Paulson, 160.
[x] Paulson, 164.

Sunday, August 11, 2019

Lectionary 19C/ Proper 14

Hebrews 11:1-3, 8-16

This week the churchwide assembly for the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA) convened in Milwaukee.

In the ELCA we celebrate being one church body organized in three expressions – the local congregation, the synod, and the churchwide organization, and the churchwide assembly (#ELCAcwa) brings those three expressions together every three years. There, voting members elected by each of the sixty-five synods, as well as our synod bishops and assistants to the bishop and the Church Council gather to listen for where God is speaking and leading; to bear witness to God’s activity in the world; and to take action that shines God’s light in the world in solidarity with the poor, and oppressed, calling for justice and proclaiming God’s love for the world.[i]

I watched worship and plenaries on the livestream from the Wisconsin Center, and while there’s much that could be said about Roberts’ Rules of Order, parliamentary procedure and hot mic moments during the assembly, what made it extraordinary was the joyful worship and preaching that proclaimed that we are saved by a God whose grace has no limits, and the actions taken that spoke to how God’s kingdom is breaking into the world even now.

And, as I listened and watched, the words of our second reading from the book of Hebrews returned to me:

1 Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen… 3 By faith we understand that the worlds were prepared by the word of God, so that what is seen was made from things that are not visible.

Like us, the audience being addressed in the book of Hebrews “were not eyewitnesses to the ministry of Jesus and [they] lived in a community that had been founded some years before.”[ii] Like those “Christians who were having trouble holding onto hope when Christ did not return immediately after his resurrection”, we, too, wait for answers from God, and in the midst of daily life we can become discouraged that evil and sin continue to exist in the world. [iii] But the Good News of Jesus Christ is that we are not alone, or abandoned to our despair or our fear.

This text tells us first that faith is “the assurance of things hoped for.”(v. 1) Furman University religion professor John C. Shelley notes, “what we hope for is intimately connected to our faith.”[iv] In the gospel, Jesus tells us “Where your treasure is, your heart will be also.” (Luke 12: 34) The places where we commit our selves – our time, talents and our money – reflect the desires of our hearts, and they reflect our faith because our lives are lived in response to the grace we have been given. The hopes we hold for ourselves, our church and the world cannot be separated from our faith.

One of the actions that the churchwide assembly took was to adopt a memorial that “encourages our synods and congregations to commemorate
the 50th anniversary of the ELCA’s ordination of women in 2020;
the occasion of the 40th anniversary of the ordination of women of color in the Lutheran tradition in the United States and
the 10th anniversary of the ELCA’s decision to remove the barriers to ordination for people in same-gendered relationships..."[v]

I am grateful the ELCA “recognizes the diversity of gifts that women’s ordination brings to this church”[vi] and to this congregation for calling me as Ascension’s first female pastor, but I lament that many congregations throughout the ELCA still refuse to recognize the calls of women in ministry, people of color and our LGBTQIA siblings in Christ. For all who have been told that they cannot serve, in our denomination or elsewhere, our churchwide affirmation of women in ministry witnesses that “the way of Jesus is the way to become who [each of us] most truly is,” as a child of God.[vii] Our action sustains hope for those who do not yet see a way forward.

The text also tells us that faith is “the conviction of things not seen.” (v. 1) As Shelley writes, “faith is not supported by the surrounding culture.”[viii] We forget sometimes how political Jesus was; he challenged the existing systems and leaders on behalf of those who were suffering or ignored and, ultimately, he was executed for it. In Luke’s gospel particularly, he speaks up for the poor, with more than 30 references to wealth, money, possessions and alms in Luke-Acts alone.

We cannot listen to Jesus’s words and think he doesn’t have something to say about how we spend, save and give.


Rolf Jacobson, a professor at Luther Seminary, tells the story of how he started tipping more and then realized he was noticing more the people who are dependent on tips. It’s not just wait staff at restaurants. It’s service personnel who don’t have living wages, and often don’t have benefits that provide healthcare or retirement savings. Again, we hear Jesus: “Where your treasure is, your heart will be also.”

Budgets are faith statements, and at the churchwide assembly, one of the first celebrations was that “Always Being Made New: the Campaign for the ELCA” exceeded its goal, raising more than $250 million in support of new and existing ELCA ministries. Those gifts will provide needed revenue to expand ministries for supporting congregations, leaders, and the global church and addressing hunger and poverty, and we can and should celebrate the ways God will be made known.

Later in the week, the assembly adopted the three-year budget for the churchwide expression which designated 75% of expenses to support and grow vital congregations here in the U.S. and to grow the Lutheran Church around the world; provide relief and development to help end hunger domestically and globally; provide coordination and support for churchwide ministries and support and develop current and future rostered and lay leaders in the ELCA.

Clearly, we long to participate in the beautiful kingdom work that God is doing through our church.

But then, one of the last pieces of business that the assembly engaged was the discussion of a cost-saving measure taken earlier this year that changed the healthcare benefits for the employees at the churchwide organization. The assembly was asked to consider restoring those benefits and the difficult discussion highlighted the challenge of managing money, people and ministry. It also, importantly, affirmed our own social statement that acknowledges how health and health care depend not only upon personal responsibility, but also upon other people and conditions in wider society. It states, “Such interdependence is at odds with the common message of this individualistic society, but it flows from the biblical vision of wholeness.”[ix]

We cannot make decisions about our lives and the lives of those around us apart from our faith.
In the verses that follow those that I read, the writer of Hebrews shares the stories of heroes of faith including Abraham, Isaac, Jacob and reminds us that, as Shelley notes, “faith may provoke hostility and ridicule…and it also presents itself as courage.[x]

Several of the actions taken this week by the assembly required great courage. After thirty years the ELCA has even fewer people of color than our predecessor bodies of the ALC and LCA did; in fact, we are the whitest denomination in the U.S. No single action or set of actions can change that reality quickly but the assembly took three actions that begin to address our history and our future. First, the assembly apologized to the African descent community for our historical complicity in slavery and its enduring legacy of racism in the United States and globally. The second action recalled the events of June 17, 2015 when a young man, baptized and raised in an ELCA congregation in the Carolinas, murdered nine people at Mother Emanuel AME Church in Charleston; in commemoration of those nine martyrs, June 17 was designated as a day of repentance, grounded in prayer. And the third action was the adoption of an unambiguous resolution to condemn white supremacy, proclaiming that “the love of God and the justice and mercy of God are for all people, without exception.”[xi]

There is a Zulu proverb that says, “When a thorn pierces the foot, the whole body must bend over to pull it out.”[xii] We cannot follow Jesus but expect others do the hard and necessary work to address systemic racism in our nation and within the Church.

There are many more examples from churchwide assembly that connect faith and Scripture to our everyday lives and remind us that we are part of the Body of Christ in all its beauty and all its mess. I encourage you to learn more about the actions the assembly took, but also to look at your own decisions and see how your faith informs your live in the every day.

Our faith is alive – it is hope-filled; it is relational and it is public.
It is our faith in Christ whom we proclaim crucified and risen that gives us courage to confront evil and sin in the world with the confidence that God prevails. The writer of Hebrews assures us: we do not need to be discouraged and we are not without hope.

Let us pray…
Creator God,
We give you thanks for the world created by your word
and for Your Son who shows us Your Kingdom.
Forgive us when we fail to put our faith in your promises.
By your Holy Spirit, strengthen and give us courage to seek justice for all your children.
We pray in the name of Jesus, our Lord and Savior.
Amen.


[i] Constitution, Ascension Lutheran Church.
[ii] “Hebrews”. Enter the Bible. Luther Seminary.
[iii] David E. Gray. “Hebrews”, Feasting on the Word.
[iv] John C. Shelley. “Hebrews”, Feasting on the Word.
[v] Legislative Update, https://www.elca.org/cwa-2019/guidebook-web-version, accessed 8/10/19
[vi] ibid
[vii] Shelley.
[viii] ibid
[ix] https://www.elca.org/Faith/Faith-and-Society/Social-Statements/Health-Care, accessed 8/10/19
[x] ibid
[xi] Legislative Update, https://www.elca.org/cwa-2019/guidebook-web-version, accessed 8/10/19
[xii] The Right Reverend W. Darin Moore, Bishop, AME Zion Church, speaking at ELCA CWA 8/8/2019.

Sunday, August 4, 2019

Lectionary 18C/ Proper 13

Luke 12:13-21

Today’s gospel begins with a brother bringing Jesus a dispute over an inheritance. But instead of arbitrating between the man and his brother, Jesus tells one of his parables, cautioning the crowd first, “Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; for one’s life doesn’t consist in the abundance of possessions.” (v. 15)

In the Contemporary English Version or CEV translation, he says, “Owning a lot of things won’t make your life safe.”

And then, Jesus tells the story of a man who has a problem. The problem the man thinks he has is that he has stored up so much of his harvest that he needs to build bigger barns to keep all his crops and goods.

This man isn’t someone you’d see on “American Pickers”, who has barns filled with old treasures and junk, or a hoarder who has stacks of newspapers towering in the study and closets filled with paper towels because they were on sale. He hasn’t just let the attic overflow with boxes of stuff. His problem won’t be solved by a good spring cleaning, decluttering, or a yard sale.

As Jesus tells us the story, we see that the man’s problem isn’t what he thinks it is. His problem isn’t the abundance of crops and goods, possessions and things. Or, maybe it is, but having enough storage for his things is not the cause of the problem.

If you have watched "Seinfeld" maybe you remember a scene when Jerry, George and Kramer are in a locker room after a basketball game and they’re talking about a fourth player named Jimmy who was really on top of his game. And then Jimmy comes in the locker room and talks about himself in the third person for the whole conversation. “Jimmy played pretty good.” “Jimmy couldn’t jump at all before he got these training shoes.” “Jimmy will see you around.”

Like Jimmy, this man in this story only refers to himself; six times in fact he addresses himself and his soul, questioning how he can solve his problem and proposing a solution that would leave him with “ample goods laid up for many years.” (v 19): “What should I do?” “I have no place” “I will do this” “I will pull down” “I will store” and “I will say”.(v. 17-19)

He was a rich man, so it’s unlikely he worked his own fields, and yet, he never mentions the people who helped him prepare the land and reap the harvest; he never mentions his neighbors or community, or even family; and, of course, he never mentions God.

This kind of self-centeredness and individualism is the very turning in on oneself that is Martin Luther’s definition of sin.

And, then, there is his lack of compassion. As a rich man in Jesus’ time, in what was a subsistence economy, his neighbors would have been more concerned about “daily bread” – where their next meal was coming from – than whether they could “eat, drink and be merry” in the future.

While the story is set more than two thousand years ago, it remains relevant to us today. While many of us have refrigerators, freezers and pantry shelves filled with groceries, many of our neighbors right here in Shelby and Cleveland County experience poverty, homelessness and food insecurity every day. Even when people are employed often their earnings aren’t enough to pay for housing, food and medical expenses. And, of course, it’s not just adults. As much as kids love summer vacation, the start of school means many children and teenagers will eat free breakfasts and lunches again after a lean summer. So even in 2019, for many families, like our ancestors in faith, the concern isn’t where to store an abundance, but whether they have “daily bread”.

Going back to the parable: is it really that surprising that God calls this man a fool?

His disregard for others impoverishes him in ways he doesn’t even recognize.

Artist James B. Janknegt (jankneg), in his painting “The Rich Fool” shows “Death” – a skeleton dressed in a dark robe – and the rich man at a dining room table in a large empty house while in a more modest, neighboring house, eight people including children are gathered around a table together and there is a fenced-in yard and toys by the front door. While the rich man has his ample crops and goods, he has no one to share them with and no community where he belongs and is loved.

And that brings us back to Jesus’ initial warning:
“Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; for one’s life doesn’t consist in the abundance of possessions.”

The writer of Ecclesiastes has learned this lesson. We only have a few verses from the book’s first two chapters, but the rest of those chapters tell the story of one who went searching for meaning and found great wisdom but no satisfaction. Wartburg College religion professor Walter Bouzard notes that, the writer, who is called the “Teacher” continues searching “in pleasures of sensuality, labor and wealth” but ultimately “declares all these activities to be equally vain” or pointless.[i]

What the Teacher discovers,
and what the rich fool fails to learn,
is that the “stuff of life” is not “stuff” at all.

Life
is not found in work, wealth, pleasure or achievement.[ii]
Life is found in the relationships we build and cherish, in the communities where we live and give of ourselves, and, especially here in our context as a community of followers of Jesus, in our faith.

Today’s texts remind us that our own efforts can not deliver security, safety or salvation.

That is the rich fool’s problem. Either he fails to acknowledge that all he is and has comes from God or he is ignorant of the truth and does not see that God provides both his daily bread and his hope for the future.

The Good News is that, forgiven of our sin and reconciled to God, our security, our safety, and our salvation are in Christ Jesus. As Saint Paul wrote in his letter to the Romans, “Our old self was crucified with him so that the body of sin might be destroyed, and we might no longer be enslaved to sin….having died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with him. (Romans 6:6, 8)

Even as we rest confident in God’s reconciling and redeeming grace, as we listen to Jesus tell this cautionary tale, we are encouraged to ask ourselves how we are like the rich fool and how we are poor in the sight of God:

When has avarice, greed, or arrogance closed my eyes to the ways God has provided for me?
Who have I overlooked as I rest in the safety and security that I enjoy?
Where do I find life – with God and in community?

Today especially, with the echoes of gun violence again reverberating through our lives after shootings in El Paso, Texas and Dayton, Ohio, Jesus’ warning that “things cannot make our lives safe” brings us again to the cross – empty-handed, heavy-hearted and gut-wrenched at the death of dozens of innocents – where we meet the One in whom we find safety, security and life.

Let us pray…
Wondrous God,
We give thanks for Your Son Jesus who reconciles us to You,
even when we sin and fall short,
failing to love as we are loved.
Guard us against all kinds of greed and idolatry
and set our minds on the ways of Your Kingdom.
Lead us by Your Holy Spirit to abundant life in relationship with You and our neighbors.
We pray in the name of Jesus, our Lord and Savior.
Amen.

[i] Walter C. Bouzard. “Working Preacher Commentaries.” Workingpreacher.org, 2016.
[ii] ibid