Sermon for December 15, Third Sunday of Advent

Sermon for December 15, 2024 Third Sunday of Advent

Luke 3:7-18 You Brood of Vipers

Y’know, I’ve been preaching for over 25 years now and one of the things I pride myself in is a good hook, y’know, a good intro. A personal story or who doesn’t love a good movie reference, right? But try as I might, this week I just couldn’t outdo John in today’s sermon, I mean John’s sermon-intro really takes the cake, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee the wrath to come!” I mean, I might’ve gone with some witty story or an example from a Disney movie, but you have to admit, this is an attention-grabber. Happy Advent, you brood of vipers!

This is rightly offensive to anybody, really, but for a people like the Israelites who claimed Abraham as their father, to call them all sons of snakes, might be the most offensive thing John could say. Are any of you into genealogy? I haven’t done that much work on my family history, and yet I know that my grandfather was the Reverend Peter Mohr serving Lutheran parishes in Alberta, Canada, and what more, that my family celebrates their ancestry back to the famed Joseph Mohr who wrote the Christmas carol “Silent Night.” Do you have any cool genealogy stories??? And so to know your important stories and how they shape you and then call you all a brood of vipers, sired by a bunch of snakes, you get how offensive this would have been, right? And so the Jews in the crowd as John is preaching on the banks of the Jordan River, they’re right to protest, “But we have Abraham as our ancestor! We’re the chosen people!” To which John replies, “God is able from these very stones to raise up children of Abraham. You ought bear fruits worthy of repentance otherwise the axe is already at the root of the tree.” Who doesn’t love a good wrath and judgment sermon? And then my favorite part at the end of the reading where Luke records, “With many other exhortations John proclaimed the good news to the people.” 

As a general rule, people don’t like having their sins pointed out to them. I know in me it triggers defensiveness and I’m likely to fight back, and maybe not very fairly. And yet, what is amazing about this text, is the people knew exactly what to expect from John’s sermons out in the wilderness…and they went anyway. John was preaching the wrath of God, really nailing them with their sins and… they flocked to him. Why? Just because I don’t like you pointing out my sins doesn’t mean you’re wrong. And in these days of alternative facts, perhaps we could all use a little more truth-telling. The people clamor to John, even tax-collectors and soldiers for crying-out-loud, “Tell us, what must we do?!” And so you see how even good preaching, truth-telling about sin and the wrath of God, is itself liberating and what we call good news. Take, for example, the confession and forgiveness we do at the beginning of each service. As you confess your sins, do you do so reluctantly? Are you afraid of God? Do you try and hide anything from Him? Or, is there a sense of refreshment as you lay it all bare before God hearing the best news you could ever hear, “For the sake of His Son, Jesus Christ, God forgives you all of your sins. Amen.”

This is why this third Sunday of Advent is almost ironically called “Gaudete” or Joy Sunday (the Latin for joy). The word joy and rejoice is all over our other readings, but the Gospel reading itself at first blush feels the farthest thing from joy. You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee the wrath to come! The axe is already at the root! These aren’t texts that we generally associate with joy! And yet, in the forgiveness of Christ, in the truth-telling of our confession, God’s axe is at our root, this refiner’s fire burns away all impurities and chaff and leaves us only holy and righteous and forgiven before the throne of God. Tell me, is that good news or bad news? It’s both, really, isn’t it? Bad news for the old sinner, the selfish, greedy little whore in each of us, bad news for him as he is only good for chaff for the everlasting fire. But that is good news for you and me. Good news that the old sinner has no place in the Kingdom, that God will one day burn him out of us like a refiner’s fire once for all declaring us righteous and pure. Might that even be cause for joy? I like to think so. I like to think Paul set Philippians 4:4 to music, “Rejoice in the Lord always, again I say rejoice.”

John the Baptist thoroughly understands that there is only one way to deal with the old sinner, you have to preach him to death. You don’t reason with him, cajole him, train him or expect better of him. The nature of sin is that it always chooses self. Apart from the power of the Holy Spirit you will never and can never choose God. And so while we might expect John to offer grandiose plans to the people who come asking, his call to death is just as basic as it sounds today. “What must we do?” the people ask. “Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none,” John answers. “Whoever has food must do likewise.” John doesn’t give the old sinner elaborate remodeling projects to work on, but calls us all to a simple death, “Put aside your greed and selfish ways and take care of your neighbor.” Death and resurrection. Same with the tax-collectors and soldiers who come to John, “Do not steal or extort money from people.” After John’s bombastic sermon-intro, we might expect more explosive ideas, but John’s prescription to the people is pretty much basic caring and sharing. Put that old greedy self to death and help your neighbor. What is a damning indictment is that John’s prescription still sounds revolutionary today. We are living in an age of unparalleled greed. Did you know that the three richest Americans: Bezos, Musk and Larry Ellison of Oracle, have more money than the bottom 50% of Americans? Three people! Have more wealth than 170 million! Don’t you find that to be the most grossly immoral thing you’ve ever heard? And the richest 1% have more wealth than the bottom 90%! Our politicians are all bought and paid for. Corporate profits are soaring while homelessness climbed 12% last year. What do you think John the Baptist would have to say if he could preach today? The call to repent is a call to put the old greedy self in each of us to death and to help our neighbor, especially those most vulnerable and weak.

With that being said, I could make a laundry list of my own sins, let alone the 60 or 70 of us here today. But I want to end the sermon looking at ways this congregation is already following John’s instructions. Ways that we are already caught up in God’s revolutionary act of sharing our coat or sharing our food. Have you ever been here on Thanksgiving Day or Christmas Day when we are serving Holiday meals? Literally sharing our food and our space and our time to feed those who are needy or lonely. What are other ways this congregation is caught up in God’s revolutionary act? (Kid’s Kloset, Apartment Team, RIC/Social Justice, Quilters, 10% tithe, etc.)

I wanted to end this sermon on that positive note. Sure, we need to let John the Baptist go off like a grenade and have the “brood of vipers” cut us down and throw us in the refiner’s fire. But the church wouldn’t be the church if we were not joyfully living out this revolutionary act of God, sharing what we have, refusing greed, putting to death selfishness, being caught up in all this good trouble that God’s Kingdom is working in the world. Amen.

Sermon for December 8, Second Sunday of Advent

Sermon for December 8, 2024 Second Sunday of Advent

Luke 3:1-6 John the Baptist

Last weekend my family went to see the new Gladiator 2 movie. We went as a family because 24 years ago we went and saw the original Gladiator in the theater as a family. Only 24 years ago “as-a-family” meant Odette was still in-utero. Sarah was 9 months pregnant, immense and sitting in the front row of the theater with all the intense gladiator fight scenes. Well, guess what happens to all that adrenaline? The mother shares all that adrenaline with the baby. And so Odette started pushing and shoving all through the movie. Sarah was yelping in pain as you could feel the kicking and elbowing through Sarah’s stomach as our own little gladiator was stabbing under Sarah’s ribcage. We joked as we watched the new movie last weekend that Odette should periodically jab Sarah in the ribs just to, y’know, recreate this special family memory. 

I share this story because this is exactly how John the Baptist is introduced to us in the New Testament. John is also in-utero, his mother Elizabeth is 6 months along in her pregnancy when Mary comes visiting. Mary has just received the news from the angel Gabriel that she too was pregnant with one to be called the Son of God. And as Mary entered the house in the hill country where Elizabeth and Zechariah lived, just as Mary greeted Elizabeth, what happened? Little baby John leapt in the womb. Something about being in the presence of this one who is the promised Messiah, this spark of energy, this transfer of pure joy, and the baby leapt in Elizabeth’s womb. Mothers, you can feel it, can’t you? If the baby decides to kick or in this case, jump for joy, you would feel it wouldn’t you? And so Elizabeth cries out, maybe even in a little pain with a foot jammed into her ribs, “Blessed are you among women and blessed is the fruit of your womb…that the mother of my Lord comes to me!”

All this week I’ve been pondering John the Baptist. I’ve been asking the most basic of questions, “Why?” Why John the Baptist? I mean, couldn’t have Jesus just appeared and started doing ministry? Why is the figure of John the Baptist even necessary at all? All the conventional answers came to me right away, “Well, he was there to prepare the way,” or, “He is the bridge between the age of the prophets and the age of the Messiah.” All those are fine and good, but one of my pastor friends wondered with me, “What if John’s singular purpose was to leap for joy at the presence of the savior?” That is, what if John’s introductory act, that leap for joy, is the lens through we make sense of John’s ministry? And that got me thinking, what if our role, our purpose as Christians, as believers in this one as the Son of God, is likewise simply that, to leap for joy in the presence of the one through whom we have our salvation?

Our Gospel text opens with this laundry list of unpronounceable names (right, Dorathea?); but notice these are all the most important and powerful men of the day: the Roman emperor Tiberius; the governor of Judea Pontius Pilate; ruler of Galilee King Herod; and of course the high priests at the Temple in Jerusalem Annas and Caiaphas. But what is the very next line? It says, “And the word of God came to…” And quite notably, the word of God did not come to any of these important and powerful men. Not the governor or the emperor, not even the most religious of men, the high priest in the Temple; the word of the Lord, rather, came to…John son of Zechariah, where? In the wilderness. You have all these important, powerful men, priests and politicians, living in palaces and at the Temple of the Lord itself, but the word of God came to none of them, rather, the Word of the Lord came to some weirdo dressed in animal skins preaching out in the wilderness. ‘The word of the Lord came to a nobody out in the middle of nowhere’ is what the text might as well be saying. Why does this matter? Because we get a glimpse of the whole kingdom of God and how it comes to us! Think about the Christmas story itself, the Christ-child not born in the palace to a rich and powerful Princess, but the Christ-child, born in a stable, laid in a manger, born to a poor blue-collar couple from Nazareth. And God could have sent the angel chorus to the Temple to make the announcement to the priests and the religious leaders, instead, they show up and serenade a group of shepherds out in the countryside of Bethlehem. Again, the word of the Lord came to a bunch of nobodies in the middle of nowhere. This is how the Word of the Lord comes! Do you see? And so what implications are there for you and me? What does it look like to be the bearers of the Word of the Lord today? Are we as the church called to consolidate political power? Create a religious test of our leaders to make sure they’ll wield power for us? To accumulate wealth and power and influence? Those are precisely the things that guarantee the Word of the Lord will pass right by us. Rather, we are called to be the nobodies sharing the word to other nobodies in the middle of nowhere. Amen?

What does it mean to be called “nobody”? I like how in our Old Testament reading the prophet Malachi begs the question, “Who can endure the day of the Lords coming? Who can stand when the Lord appears?” Well, that’s about as rhetorical as a rhetorical question can be, ‘cause the answer of course is…nobody. Who can endure the day of the Lord’s coming? Nobody. Who can stand? Nodbody. You think you can pile up all your good works and religious trophies and impress God on that day? St. Paul puts it best in Romans when he answers the question, “No one is righteous; no not one. All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.” Who can endure at the Lord’s coming? Who can stand? Answer: nobody. And that is what makes us “nobodies.” And there is only one appropriate response, therefore, to the Lord’s coming, and that is exactly what John the Baptist leads us to…repentance for the forgiveness of sins. Since nobody can stand before the Lord’s coming, then the only appropriate response is repentance. We cannot forgive ourselves, and so it all becomes about God’s mercy. Amen?

The responsive reading we did this morning was not one of the Psalms (like we normally do) but is the song of Zechariah, John the Baptist’s father, at the birth of John. There with baby John in his arms, his father describes this exact ministry of John, that he is to call the people to repentance and proclaim the forgiveness of God. Look at verse 76 as he holds high the baby John: And you, child, shall be called the prophet of the Most High, for you will go before the Lord to prepare the way, to give God’s people knowledge…of what? Knowledge of salvation. How? Salvation by…the forgiveness of their sins. How will this happen? By the tender compassion of our God. I like the translation: by the tender mercy of God. We hear in this text both the primary purpose of Christ and of John the Baptist. Jesus has come to reveal the tender-mercy of God as he forgives our sins. And John is sent to prepare the way calling the people to repentance, the only appropriate response to the Lord’s coming.

And through that lens, how can you not view every aspect of John’s ministry as his leaping for joy in the presence of Jesus our salvation? Calling the people to repentance on the banks of the Jordan River, there is John leaping for joy as the one thing he has been set aside for is about to take place. John baptizing the people and crying out as Christ enters the waters, again leaping for joy. Pointing out Christ to his own disciples, “Behold the Lamb of God, come to take away the sins of the world,” in the presence of the Savior again leaping for joy. Even as he himself is in prison awaiting his own execution, he begs the question of Jesus, “Are you the one or are we to await another?” And the answer comes, “Go tell John what you have seen and heard: that the blind see, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor receive the Good News.” The word of the Lord is coming to a bunch of nobodies John, don’t you see? And John’s final earthly act, then, was the same as his first as he leapt for joy.

And that Good News has not changed. Here we are 2000 years later, and we are still proclaiming the tender-mercy of our God. How through the death and resurrection of Christ, your sins are forgiven. Not because you’re a somebody, rich or powerful or especially religious, but because you are a nobody – you are saved by the gift of grace alone as the word of the Lord comes to you. With John, therefore, we likewise have one singular purpose, one mission, and that is in the presence of our savior to leap for joy. Amen.

Sermon for December 1, First Sunday of Advent

Sermon for December 1, 2024 First Sunday of Advent

First Sunday of Advent Luke 21 Stand up and raise your heads

Did any of you grow up in the 50s or 60s doing “duck and cover” drills in school in case of nuclear attack? They started those drills in 1952. What do you remember??? I remember doing earthquake drills in school. It was the same thing, you’d climb under your desk and hunker down. My daughter grew up doing active-shooter drills in school. I remember I was visiting the elementary school across the street in Tacoma and got stuck there for 45 minutes when they had an active shooter drill. We all had to get on the floor and they turned off the lights and locked all the doors. We seem to know instinctively that there is a right time to “duck and cover.” If we think there is danger or imminent threat, get your head down, maybe hide or take cover, turn out the lights. You know, these are normal ways, best practices, training and even our God-given instincts all telling us to duck and cover. And so it is notable, even backwards or at least counter-instinctual, when Jesus tells his disciples, amidst all the destruction and chaos, to, quote, “stand up and raise your heads,” the very opposite of duck and cover, right? He even says it twice in our text, that on that day you may “stand before the Son of Man.” When everything else in the world tells you to duck your head and take cover, Jesus tells his disciples to raise our heads; not hide in the dark, but to stand tall. And so in the face of the tumult and turmoil of this world, Jesus instructs you and I to a faith that is backwards-ly courageous, that trusts God even in the most uncertain and anxious times. Amen?

The Gospel text for this morning, the First Sunday of Advent and the new church year, actually began several weeks ago with Jesus at the Temple. Remember the story of the widow’s offering, where she drops in the two pennies? After that one of the disciples is marveling at the large stones and impressive structure of the Temple to which Jesus replies, “Truly I tell you, not one stone will lie upon another.” That gets his disciples all worked up and Jesus launches into a long sermon about what Jeremiah calls in our first reading, “The days are surely coming saith the Lord…” The end times and the great Day of the Lord. And it is full of imagery that is troubling if not terrifying: wars, earthquakes and today’s text says even the heavens shall be shaken, signs in the sun, the moon and stars, and distress as the sea and waves roar. I heard someone point out that what is being described here by Jesus is the undoing of creation, the undoing of Genesis chapter one. In Genesis God is ordering the lights in the sky, setting the sun, moon and stars; but as we sing today in our sermon hymn, in the end times the stars begin to fall. Again in Genesis God orders the waters, setting the boundaries for the seas and the waves that they may advance no further; yet here in these end times texts the sea and waves roar and foam, causing distress as they violate the boundaries established in creation and return to chaos. These texts are not what we would call Good News! Actually, they have every characteristic about them that ought to send us, with good reason, to “duck and cover.” Instead though, what are Jesus’ very next words? “When these things begin to take place…stand and raise your heads.” Don’t duck and cover, not my disciples, you are to be a sign for the world; let them see you stand high and raise your heads. Why?Why? Because, Jesus says, (and here is the Good News!), “because your redemption is drawing near.” Your redemption is drawing near.

Jesus uses popular Advent language today like “Stay alert!” “Stay awake!” “Be on guard!” language that reminds me of the night-watchman on the walls. That night-watchman’s job is to stay alert for invading armies or enemies, but here Jesus tells us we are watching not for danger but for our redemption. It is not an invading army we are watching for, but for the returning hero, for our champion. And so while the world hunkers down in fear and picks sides and arms themselves (you know gun sales have increased since the election?), what are Christians to do? What are we as disciples of Jesus Christ called to do? Stand tall and lift up our heads because this isn’t about fear, this is about faith; this is about our redemption. Martin Luther has a great way of putting it that always brings it back to the death and resurrection of Christ. In the face of the turbulence and turmoil in these texts, Luther brings us straight to the tomb of Christ and calls it the “strange and dreadful strife when life and death contended.” That those three days Christ laid in the tomb life and death themselves contended; that there is the most dreadful strife this world has ever known. The core of every human story, every struggle and every conflict, is this strife, the battle between life and death that played out in the very tomb of Christ. And not to ruin the end of the story if you haven’t read it yet, but do you know what happened? Do you know who won? Of course, Easter morning Christ emerged from the tomb victorious over death. Christ, in the midst of the greatest strife, raises his head and becomes our redeemer. So too he now calls you, in the midst of your own turmoil and fears, to raise your head for he, our redeemer, has drawn near.

These texts put a lot of things into perspective for me. Here I may fret about an election. I may be stressed about putting our house on the market or wondering where my next job might be. And to put it all into perspective Jesus talks about the very undoing of creation itself, the seas roar and stars begin to fall. Yeah, my problems aren’t that bad. Which means if I can face the end of the first creation with my head held high, I can probably go through the uncertainty of these next several months with my head raised in faith. Amen? I offer the same word to you, my very dear sisters and brothers at Immanuel as you too enter your own time of change and uncertainty. We soon come to the “farewell” part of this call and both of us enter a time of uncertainty called “transition.” I remember learning once that every emotionally charged reaction in times of uncertainty or conflict comes from fear, a fear of losing something important to us. And so pay attention to one another; listen to one another. Transition isn’t supposed to be easy; there is a reason we use the metaphor of “wilderness” when we talk about transition. There will invariably be heightened anxieties and with that often comes maybe not always our best behavior. Be kind. Be patient with one another. Listen to one another because chances are deep down we are all reacting to a deep fear of losing something valuable to us. But then let the word do its work; let the promises of Christ cut through the noise and the turmoil, “stand and raise up your heads” for Christ your redeemer is near. Even in the most uncertain and anxious times, hold fast to this faith, that in the empty tomb your redemption has come. Amen.

Sermon for August 18th 13th Sunday after Pentecost

John 6 I Am the Bread of Life

OK, ready for a little National Geographic? Trivia Question: Which carnivorous mammal has the greatest recorded bite strength? I will give you a clue, it is not the human. Humans only have 162 pounds of bite force. This animal is from sub-Saharan Africa…measured with over 1000 pounds of bite force, it is…the spotted hyena. Also known as the laughing hyena. Hyenas have enough bite force to literally crunch through bones. You wanna know what that sounds like? I’m glad you asked. ‘Cause I found this youtube video…

Why do we start the sermon today with something as gross as a hyena crunching through the bones of a carcass? It’s not my fault, it’s Jesus’! Because Jesus said that is how we meant to eat his flesh. To devour it like a hungry animal. To gnaw and crunch on his flesh like a hyena with a bone. It all started when Jesus fed the 5000 and they came to him demanding more bread; more signs. What Jesus gave them, however, was himself, “I Am the Bread of Life.” And then Jesus gave them a teaching that would still be controversial today, “And the bread I give for the life of the world is…my flesh.” We have a name for that. That is called cannibalism my dear children and is in fact frowned upon in most societies. There’s this video of a CNN reporter interviewing an actual cannibal who is wearing a necklace of human jaw bones. It gets bad when the cannibal threatens the reporter to cut off his head and eat him because he talks too much. The reporter calls over his producer and says, “I think this might have been a mistake.” Yeah, you think!? Even today cannibalism is way outside the bounds. It’s like the worst a human could be, killing and eating the flesh of another human. And so the religious leaders and even Jesus’ own disciples rightly object, “How can this man give us his flesh to eat?” And then again, “This teaching is difficult, Jesus! Who can accept it?” But Jesus doesn’t back off, or try and explain better what he meant, or somehow soften his teaching, rather he doubles down and makes the teaching even more offensive. You can’t see it in the English translation, but in verse 53 Jesus uses the verb common for eating, “Very truly I tell you unless you eat of the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood you have no life in you.” But then after their objections, he doubles down and makes the teaching more offensive, using a different verb, instead of the verb for “eat” he changes it and uses the verb for “crunch or much or gnaw” like this hyena loudly gnawing and crunching on bones. And so verse 54 reads, “Those who gnaw on my flesh and drink my blood will have eternal life and I will raise them up on the last day. Gnaw and crunch on my flesh like a wild animal and drink my blood and then you will abide in me and I in you.”

Why, Jesus? Why make it so gross? Why would Jesus double-down like that? Why make it more offensive? Why not soften it up, make this teaching more palatable for people to digest. Why not? Well, I’m convinced it is because this teaching is a matter of life and death. That is, it is about our death and resurrection. And when it comes to putting the Old Adam to death, Jesus doesn’t mess around. He doesn’t soften things up to make it more palatable. This is about creating faith and Jesus doesn’t have time to mess around. And so he says it exactly as it is: If you don’t consume and take in Christ like a starving animal, then you have no part in him. Next week we’ll hear how most of Jesus’ disciples left him over the offense of this teaching; so Jesus clearly isn’t worried about crowd size. What he’s worried about is faith. Why does a starving animal eat with such ferocity and candor? Because it’s starving! Do we pretend we come to the Table already filled? Already able to forgive our own sins, able to choose to be saved apart from the work of the Holy Spirit? Do we come to this Table full? Or do we come to this table as beggars? Truly desperate and starving. This is what is at stake. Faith itself is at stake. And this is a matter of life and death, and so Jesus doubles down and makes his teaching even more offensive.

Martin Luther wrote so many volumes and volumes of books and letters and letters of correspondence, that when he died they not only took a death mask of his face, which was fairly common of someone noteworthy, but when Martin Luther died, they took a death “mask” of his hands as well, because when he died his hands were still locked in this position, the right hand as if it were holding a quill pen writing and his left as if it were flattening the page to write. I know, I got to see these in person when they were on display at Luther Seminary. Isn’t that cool? And so when Luther died, do you know the last thing he wrote? This is such a cool story. Luther knew he was dying, laying there in his death bed surrounded by friends and witnesses. He pulls a scrap of paper out of his pocket, scrawls something with a pen on the back of it, stuffs it back in his pocket and then dies. All those around him keeping vigil were like, “What did he write? What are the last words of the great Martin Luther, who wrote volumes and volumes of words? Maybe he recanted everything at the end?” So they pull out the scrap of paper, turn it over, and there on the back Luther had written, “It is true; we are all beggars.” It is true;  we are all beggars. How do we come to the table? How do we come to the throne of grace? Do we come as those already full, with all the answers if you’ll just get out of the way and let me show just you how religious I can be? Or do we come as beggars? As starving animals, as Jesus says. This is a matter of grace. It is a matter of our salvation. We do not come already filled. But like a starving hyena, we are to come to Christ’s body, as if this is the only thing in the whole world that can fill us…because it is.

And we do well to remember that the one offering his body and blood to us isn’t just some wild-eyed prophet, or even a mighty leader or important religious figure. He is Jesus of Nazareth, the Son of God. And what more, as scripture attests, he himself is God. From the beginning, not one thing was made that was not made through him. He is the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. We are reminded of this when Jesus chooses very specific language to describe himself, “I Am the Bread of Life.” And we’ve heard that I AM before. Of course, Jesus uses it seven times in the Gospel of John: I am the good shepherd; I am the way the truth and the life; I am the resurrection and the life; I am the vine and you are the branches. But truly, that I AM claim should be even more offensive to us than Jesus inviting us to eat his flesh and drink his blood. Because the claim Jesus is making goes all the way back to Exodus, to the story of the burning bush, where God calls Moses to deliver his people out of slavery. Moses finally asks God, “But who should I tell them sent me? What name shall I tell them.” And God answers, “I AM.” It is the Hebrew name YAHWEH. I AM. Or, I AM WHO I AM. That name of God was considered so holy that if you were the reader in the synagogue on the Sabbath you had a pointing stick so you didn’t actually touch the page and then if you came upon this holy name of God, you didn’t read it out loud, you substituted it with another name of God, like Adonai. But you never said this name, I AM, out loud. It was too holy. Here, Jesus not only says the name out loud, but makes claims that the I AM is indeed him. He, Jesus of Nazareth, is the great I AM who spoke to Moses out of the burning bush? And of course this is the greatest offense of all because it would have been utter blasphemy, a mere mortal to claim he is God. And so in our Bread of Life text they even question him, “Is this not Jesus, the son of Joseph, whose father and mother we know? How can he now claim to come from heaven.” Because he is human, he must be lying, or delusional or plain crazy. But from heaven? The great I AM? Impossible. And yet through the ears of faith we hear and we believe. We believe that Jesus is the great I AM who spoke to Moses from the burning bush; we believe Jesus is the great I AM from before the beginning of all creation; we believe Jesus is the great I AM who is the Alpha and the Omega; we believe Jesus is the great I AM, the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. We believe Jesus is the great I AM who invites you to eat his flesh, to gnaw on it like you’re starving, and to drink his blood. For when you believe Jesus is the great I AM, then how can you not come to his body and come to his blood parched and starving? Where else shall you go for eternal life? Amen.

Sermon for August 11th 12th Sunday after Pentecost

John 6 and 1 Kings 19 Elijah sustained by bread/”I Am the Bread of Life”

Have you been watching the Olympics? What are your favorite events? Sarah and I were watching the women’s high-dive the other night and I didn’t recognize the flag and the three-letter country designation that one of the athletes had. So, here’s the flag. I bet some of you know it right away. And the three-letters were “PRK.” I actually guessed correctly, “People’s Republic of Korea???” But it was…North Korea, which it has been their first time competing in eight years. So this inspired me to have a little Olympics geography quiz. This nation is home to 3.2 million people and fielded 9 athletes in the summer games (Eritrea in Eastern Africa). OK, this is an island nation in the West Pacific Ocean home to only 18,000 people (Palau, and they fielded 3 athletes). One more, this is another island nation in the Caribbean (St. Lucia. They fielded only 4 athletes, but won two medals, a gold and silver. Pretty impressive!).

So, this summer we are spending time with the “I Am the Bread of Life” teachings. One of the aspects of wine and bread every Sunday, is remembering that wine and bread were consumed at every normal meal at that time. Bread and wine are not fancy foods like caviar or micro-greens, the whole point is they are common and ordinary. Bread is a staple diet. So again in the spirit of the Olympics and identifying flags, let’s play a different game. I will show you a flag and you name the staple diet. So instead of “I am the bread of life…” here, this first one is easy, “I am the… (China/rice of life).” OK, this one if fun (Ireland/I am the potato of life). I’ve been here, I did a mission trip with Habitat for Humanity (Dominican Republic) and I’ll tell you there isn’t a meal served that you don’t get…rice and beans. Jesus said I am the rice and beans of life! I don’t think you’ll get this one…the three letter Olympic designation is NGR if that helps… (Nigeria/and the staple diet? Cassava. Manioc root. Jesus said, “I am the cassava of life.”) Here in America we recognize bread as a staple diet. Something commonly served and eaten at any given meal, right? In fact, Americans eat 37 pounds of bread a year. That’s 3 pounds of bread a month. However, that is nowhere even close to the country that consumes the most bread per capita. Who is this? The 3 letter designation should give it away…TUR. Yeah, Turkey. Turkish citizens eat… 440 pounds of bread a year! That’s 37 pounds of bread every month! Talk about a staple diet. They eat bread at every meal to dip and scoop and scrape every bite. 37 pounds a month!

So when Jesus says, “I am the bread of life” he is saying he is the staple of life. Staple diet means every day, if not every meal, right? Staple means consumed for daily life. Like a staple diet of rice or cassava, Jesus is saying that he is what is necessary and needed in order to live. That is what I love about this Elijah story, that at this moment Elijah needed strength, that Elijah needed encouragement, God didn’t send the angelic cheerleading squad to boost his morale, God met him there in the wilderness and instead sent an angel to…cook for him. Bake a cake of bread on a rock and provide a jar of water. It is no less a miracle than the feeding of the 5000 or the manna in the wilderness. But what I love about it is how simple it is. Just a cake of bread and a bottle of water. God gives Elijah exactly what he needs to sustain him for his journey through the wilderness.

And that is the thing about staple foods, they aren’t anything fancy. When Jesus says, “I Am the bread of life,” he is claiming something common and daily. Jesus is not caviar at $1,300 a pound. Jesus is not our kobe beef or white truffles that only the rich and wealthy can afford…he is plain, ordinary bread. And this matters; Jesus meets us here in the common and ordinary. In the word and in the water and the bread and wine. People like to ask me, for example, if this is “holy” water. They’ve seen too many vampire movies and want to know if the water in the baptismal font will hurt a vampire. I tell them that it comes from the same exact pipes that fill the sinks and the toilets. It is just as plain and ordinary as toilet water. Now, what makes it “holy” is that the spirit has promised to be present every time the promise is proclaimed that here in these waters you are a beloved child of God. The water is not holy, Christ is holy Same with the bread. When, for example, Bev bakes our communion bread, does she use her “holy” oven? Does she have “holy” oven-mitts and a “holy” spatula that she uses? Holy flour? Holy yeast? You see what I mean. The whole point is this is plain, ordinary bread. It is staple food. And how powerful for Bev and anyone else who has ever prepared the communion bread to see something baked in their daily-use oven on the same old baking trays they’ve used a thousand times, suddenly becomes the host, the very body of Christ that we all partake on Sunday morning. This is the gospel. That Christ Jesus meets us here in the common and ordinary. In the staples of life. He even meets us in flesh and bone. Immanuel. God with us. And what is more ordinary than this stuff? This is the gospel because Jesus comes all the way. He doesn’t come half way and then command us to be more holy or be more religious and somehow meet him half-way in the sky, like we’re climbing some ladder to heaven. No. Jesus comes all the way. Jesus meets us here in the bread and wine. And so Jesus insists, “I Am the Bread of Life.” Jesus is the source of life.

We like to say we are a people of Word and Sacrament; what do we mean by that? It means that we give away Christ every time in common ordinary things like words and bread and wine. And really truly, how could we do any other? This coming Wednesday, August 14, is the commemoration of the Saint Day for Pastor Kaj Munk, a Danish Lutheran Pastor who was executed by the nazi gestapo in 1944. As a critic of the nazi rule, Pastor Munk was ordered to cease public gathering, that is, he could no longer lead church. You know, I don’t think it is insignificant that each of the bread stories this morning is a moment of distress or trouble. Elijah’s escape from Jezebel, in the Psalm today David’s flight from Abimelech, and of course Jesus’ confrontation with the religious authorities and even his own disciples that find his teaching too difficult. These bread stories come in some of the most difficult of times. Times of distress. Times of trouble. And so there was Pastor Kaj Munk, preaching and presiding at the table under direct orders by the nazis not to. But I ask again, if this is Christ we are giving away, then how can we do any other? And so the last thing Pastor Munk did was feed people with the bread of life through pulpit and table. He was found later executed by the gestapo. And so Wednesday is Pastor Munk’s commerative Saint day, but truly we commemorate Christ among us as the Bread of Life. We commemorate God meeting us here in the word and in the bread and wine. Christ is our staple diet. Christ is our daily bread. Christ is our food we turn to meal after meal knowing that here we will be sustained. Here God meets us in our wilderness and provides just what we need for our journey. His body broken for you. Amen.

Sermon for August 4th 11th Sunday after Pentecost

Sermon for  August 4, 2024                                                                  11th Sunday after Pentecost

John 6 and Exodus 16 The Lessons of Manna

Do you know what “shrinkflation” is? Have you ever heard of shrinkflation? It’s when companies reduce the size of the product or packaging, but maintain the same price. This is just one of the lovely ways the corporations gouge us for profit. For example, here are pictures of potato chips, chocolate bars, popular drinks and packaging.  The idea is to deliver you less and less all while charging you more and more. We are literally paying for air; which means we will never have enough. It is no wonder that our nature then is to be deeply skeptical, to assume everything is a scam. We are distrustful of any packaging. And it turns us into hoarders because we never have enough.

So when God devises a test in order to see if he can overcome our distrustful nature, what do you think he’ll find? It says so right in our Exodus reading, “I will test them, whether they will follow my instruction or not.” I will test them. And what is God’s test? Manna. The test is “manna.” There are so many lessons for us to learn from the manna; but most important is the lesson to learn to trust. After all the shrinkflation, after all the scams and the corporate profits and CEOs and their bought-and-paid-for politicians...all the ways we have been conditioned NOT to trust, can God ever teach us to truly trust again?

If manna is the test, then what lessons can we learn? What does manna teach us about human nature? And what does manna teach us about God? About human nature…what is the first thing the Israelites do in our story? They complain. The first lesson of manna is we are first and foremost deep in our nature…complainers. They complain that they’re hungry. They grumble that they’re thirsty. And I love that in their complaining they are looking for someone to blame and acutely misrepresent the situation. They blame Moses and Aaron, “Why did you lead us out into this desert to die?!” And then the misrepresentation, “At least in Egypt we had pots filled with meat. Boy, did we ever have it good in Egypt!” Really? Did they? Did they have it good in Egypt? I seem to remember just a few chapters ago it describing how awful they were treated in slavery and forced labor. So, what do we learn about human nature from this story? First, we like to complain. And in our complaining we look for someone else to blame and we tend to have selective and quite damaged memory about how things used to be.

The lessons of manna not only teach us about ourselves and our nature, but more importantly the lessons of manna teach us about God. What does manna teach us about God? First and foremost, God provides. God is our provider and God provides enough. The manna story reminds me of the feeding of the 5000 where everybody had enough. It says everybody was fed and everybody was filled. All had enough. It is such an incredible blessing to be able to say those words, “I have enough. I am satisfied.” Because we are deeply conditioned to believe we don’t have enough; that we would be truly happy if we just had a little bit more. Did you know sheep won’t lie down until they are satisfied. And so when in the 23rd psalm it says, “You lay me down in green pastures,” it is a picture of sheep completely satisfied. They have enough. We are conditioned by things like shrinkflation to believe we never have enough. Someone is always trying to scam us or steal from us. The greedy fat-cats are charging us more and more for less and less. How could we every truly trust? I tell people the only way to earn someone’s trust is to be trustworthy. So what does God do? God proves trustworthy. God provides. And God provides enough. Until each of us can say, “I am satisfied.” This is how God will create trust.

Of course one of the greatest tests of the lesson of the manna comes when God commands them to gather as much as they need for their household, but only enough for one day…today. And human nature being what it is, what do they do? They gather up and hoard as much as they can. But really, what’s the harm in that? No one’s getting hurt! The manna is just laying there on the ground! But the lesson is, “Will you trust?” Are we ever able to overcome our fearful and distrustful nature, and can we ever learn to truly trust? And so all that hoarded manna, what happens to it? It gets filled with maggots and turns rotten. Hoarding literally stinks. And this lesson is a hard one for us because we’re all really good at planning for tomorrow. Chances are every one of you has stuff in the back of your freezers that’s been there since 2003.  I remember a student asking our professor in seminary, “But if God has provided enough, then why are there hungry and poor people in the world?” And my seminary professor dropped the weight of the law on them when they answered, “Because you needed a bigger television.” We might watch shows about hoarders to feel better about ourselves, but the truth is we are all selfish and greedy and our own hoarding likewise stinks. We might pray every week for “daily bread” but we are really bad at actually trusting “daily.” But notice, God promises to send manna, and more than enough. And they are filled and satisfied. But God doesn’t say anything about tomorrow. He promises just enough for today. God is teaching them to trust in daily bread. And in fact, if you gather more than enough for today it turns to rot. Here is probably the greatest lesson of “daily” bread, as Jesus preaches elsewhere in the gospels he says, “Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today.” Learning to trust God, really truly trusting that today’s daily bread is enough, that God provides and God will provide enough again and again, these are the lessons of manna and these are the most important lessons as well when Jesus says to the crowds, “I am the true bread that comes down from heaven.”

I think one of the most important things here, as Jesus states this amazing promise, “I am the true bread from heaven,” is that Jesus doesn’t offer to give them bread (although Lord knows he certainly can! He just fed over 5000 people!), no he doesn’t promise to give them bread or point out where they can find bread, but he says to them, “I Am the Bread.” When the crowds inquire of him, “What must we do? Give us a sign!” Jesus effectively says to them, “I Am the sign! I’m it! What must you do? Trust in me, that’s what you must do!” How will God finally prove that He is trustworthy? Answer: by sending Christ to be the promise, to be the bread, to be the manna providing for our every need and filling us that we might say, “I have enough.” This is our daily bread. This is how we will finally learn to trust.  And I love this. That Jesus doesn’t point us to the Kingdom of God; but he is the Kingdom of God come among us. Jesus doesn’t show us the way to heaven; but he is the Way. He doesn’t offer us bread if we’re good or religious or holy enough; but he is the bread, the living bread from heaven. All the lessons of manna are here in Jesus our living manna: that God provides and God provides enough; abundance for today; lessons of trust. Do we still grumble and complain and blame? Are we still guilty of hoarding? Of course! But Jesus is our daily bread. Jesus is our faith. In him we finally learn to truly trust. Amen.

Sermon for July 28th 10th Sunday after Pentecost

Sermon for  July 28, 2024                                                10th Sunday after Pentecost

Mark 6 The Beheading of John the Baptist

I am going to preach a political sermon. Are you ready? (groans…) Ok, here we go, political sermon… Take care of the poor. Feed the hungry. Clothe the naked. Set the bound free. Now, I know y’all get upset when I preach a political sermon, ‘cause you tell me. So I apologize if that made you uncomfortable. But I promise, I’ll wait a long time before I tell you to feed the hungry again. J (Wait, pastor, I think that’s sarcasm.)

Whenever folks complain they thought a sermon was too “political” I try and explain the difference between partisan and political. Partisan means of a particular party, telling you which party or which candidate to support or vote for. And Lord knows there are some churches out their guilty of that. But the word political comes from the greek word polis meaning “of the people or community.” So, while politics is often confused with partisanship, politics is simply the negotiating of life together in society, like, how shall we care for the poor or the elderly or the sick or the oppressed. In that regard, the gospel of Jesus Christ makes great political demands on those who strive to live by it. So was Jesus political? Did Jesus preach political sermons? You bet he did. And what about John the Baptist? Was he political? He he. In today’s gospel text John the Baptist literally preaches a sermon against a local political leader, right? And I can hear Herod’s wife complaining, “I don’t like John’s preaching; it is too political.” And she was right! Even today political sermons aren’t very popular. And I think the proof is in the pudding that both John and Jesus will pay with their lives for preaching against those in power and protesting the status quo.

John got into some hot water when he began preaching against the marriage of King Herod. Now this isn’t the King Herod from Jesus’ birth story who killed all the boys under two in and around Bethlehem. That was his father, Herod the Great. Herod the Great had four sons, all named Herod. This Herod is Herod Antipas, the same Herod who will have Jesus before him on trial later in the passion story. Herod Antipas had a brother Herod Philip who married his niece, Herodias. Herod Antipas convinced his niece, Herodias, to leave his brother Herod Philip and marry him instead. It’s like they say, incest is a game the whole family can play. So there is John the Baptist, preaching against the sin of this ruling family and the illegality of their marriage. Now everyone knows women love to be scorned. Especially shamed in regards to their relationship choices, right? And so Herodias is holding on to this grudge, biding her time. Herod has John arrested, but he keeps John alive because he believes John is a prophet, righteous and holy, and he even likes to listen to John preach. But, when the opportunity came when Herod had his birthday party, Herodias sent her daughter out to dance for the King. Her dancing so pleased the king (her step-father/great-uncle…ewww!) Herod offered her anything she asked for. She consulted with her mother who said, “Ask for the head of John the Baptist.” And this dear, sweet girl then added her own embellishment… “on a platter.”

Now, in Herod’s defense, at least he kept his word, right?  I mean, he had to keep his honor in front of all his party guests. He’d made a promise to his step-daughter, at least he kept it. And it did say he thought John was righteous and holy and liked to hear him preach. I mean, if anything, Herod is the good guy in this story, right? And here’s the crux of the matter, here’s the point I want to make this morning. John was not killed by brigands or rogues. He was not killed by some depraved rabble. John was killed by the very best. By the Honorable King, keeping his word. Poor Herod couldn’t possibly lose face in front of his guests, even though he found John to be righteous and holy. And so John was killed in order to keep the honor of King Herod, the tetrarch of Galilee.

It is often pointed out that the death of John the Baptist foreshadows or mirrors the death of Christ. Both men are regarded as prophets, righteous and holy. Both men are arrested unfairly and both men are executed by the state even though they were innocent. We see in the story of John’s death what is to come in the passion of Christ. For this reason I share one of my favorite quotes this week, in regards to John being killed by Herod, the “honorable” king. The quote says something like that Jesus was not killed by the worst humanity had to offer, but Jesus was killed by the best of humanity. That is, Jesus was not killed by some mindless rabble or thieving ruffians, but by the careful deliberations of respected religious rulers who justified their actions by the highest standards of morality and God’s law. The Jewish Temple system was religious authority at its absolute best. And likewise Jesus was not killed by lawless scoundrels, but by the Roman jurisprudence system, with official warrants, tried and executed by the Governor himself. The point being, Jesus (and by connection this morning, John) was not killed by the worst that humanity has to offer, but humanity at its absolute best.

And this, I think, is why “political” sermons are so offensive. Not because we might disagree on a particular topic, but because the preached word of Jesus Christ still challenges the status quo especially where those in power oppress the poor and vulnerable still today. This is the Gospel! Just as John mirrored Christ’s own ministry and his death foreshadows that of Christ, so too we are ambassadors of God’s kingdom today, speaking the truth of God’s word to powers that oppress despite all consequences. That means for the church there is no left or right or political party, and it makes no difference if it is Kamala or Joe running or who we support if the power of Empire continues to bring injustice and suffering to the poor and needy. I love Bishop William Barber, former director of the Poor People’s Campaign, and an amazing preacher if you ever want to google him. He says that preachers don’t get to opt out of politics; that we can either be chaplains of the Empire, or prophets of God. But we can’t be both. We can either be chaplains of Empire, or prophets of God. Notice this same definition of “politics” as not a particular party or candidate, but having to do with how we negotiate life together in society, particularly when it comes to taking care of the poor and disadvantaged. Is the church in America an extension of Empire, protecting and guarding the status quo and those in power? Or are churches an extension of the Kingdom of God, revealed in John the Baptist and finally in Christ Jesus?

There is a warning here, obviously. I could tell you, like John, not to lose your head, but there is a cost for standing up to power. Both John and Jesus paid with their lives. Every one of Jesus’ disciples, except for John the Gospel Writer, died brutal martyr deaths. Paul beheaded. Peter crucified upside down. Stephen stoned to death. On the one hand, you should all be fleeing for the exits. But on the other hand, this is and remains true, that Jesus Christ came to enact the Kingdom of God. That in the beatitudes the Kingdom is revealed as Jesus came blessing the poor, filling those who are hungry, supporting those who are weak and giving justice to the oppressed and setting free all who are in any kind of bondage. This challenges me and exposes me because I see all the ways I benefit from the status quo. How I directly gain. Which makes me complicit. I am the one guilty of killing that trouble-maker Jesus. But on the other hand, the Gospel of Jesus Christ is not neutral, it is still active and disrupting the world and the powers-that-be today. We am disrupted. We are put to death. But we are also renewed and called into service. And the church is put on the front lines where we too have the opportunity to participate in the amazing kingdom work of blessing the poor, filling those who are hungry, supporting those who are weak, giving justice to the oppressed, and setting free all who are bound. That makes us as workers of God’s kingdom deeply political. Amen.

Sermon for July 21st 9th Sunday after Pentecost

Sermon for  July 21, 2024                                                    9th Sunday after Pentecost

Mark 6 The Healing Ministry of Christ

Do you ever get stuck watching those little tik tok videos on youtube or facebook? Ugh. I’ll get lost just scrolling and scrolling watching dumb little videos and next thing I know an hour’s blown by. But there are some that are really quite beautiful; some of my favorites are when people who are deaf get an implant and are filmed hearing for the very first time. Or men who are colorblind putting on special glasses to let them see color for the very first time. It’s really quite emotional for everyone when one of these modern-day “healings” takes place. My father is a retired ophthalmologist and he tells stories of volunteering on the mercy ships where he would go and perform eye surgeries in under-developed countries. People who had never seen in their entire lives, but with a fairly simple corrective surgery my dad was able to restore their vision. He might as well have been a miracle worker with the reactions he was getting. Can you imagine?

Our celebration of these modern day miracles today gives us a glimpse I think into the healing ministry of Christ. There is this short verse from the end of our gospel text that says, “Everyone rushed about that whole region bringing to him the sick. And wherever he went…all were healed.” This is similar to the verse we read before the service of anointing prayers, just one verse from Luke 4, “When the sun was setting, the people brought to Jesus all who had various kinds of sickness, and laying his hands on each one, he healed them.” All who were sick were brought to him, and all were healed. Last week we heard the feeding of the 5000 story. At the beginning of that story the crowds are following Jesus and his disciples out into this remote and rugged territory. It says that when Jesus saw them he was filled with compassion. Why? Because, it says, they were like sheep without a shepherd. I love this, because it gives us an insight into what Jesus sees. What is Jesus thinking? What are his attitudes? We don’t often get told Jesus’ motive. Here his motive is: compassion. He had compassion on them. Now, if I was trying to get away for some alone time and five-thousand of you followed you wouldn’t want to know my attitude! But here we see the heart of Christ – compassion. He had compassion on them because they were like sheep without a shepherd. But then he proceeds to teach them…it says, all day. I imagine more than one person came out there following Jesus expecting healing. Do you think they came for a day-long sermon? Cause that’s what they got! But then we get to the end of the chapter and there is Jesus laying hands on each and every person brought to him, no matter the illness, no matter the disease, blind, deaf, demon-possessed…Jesus healed them, each and every last one of them.

One of the more important things I learned studying the original language of the gospels is that this word for healing can be translated as healing, wholeness or wellness, but is also the same word for salvation. That means the word for healing and the word for salvation are the same word. This is surprising because we think of healing and being saved as two very different categories, but in the Greek it is the same word. Several times in the Gospels Jesus says to someone he has healed, “Go, your faith has healed you.” Sometimes translations say, “Go, your faith has saved you.” And it is the same thing. You are healed, made well, made whole, you are saved. This is what Jesus does. This is his ministry. Healing, forgiving, setting people free…this is how he comes to save us!

A lot of the times on the ER shows on TV they will short-hand refer to people by their affliction, “We’ve got a head trauma in six…there’s a hemorrhage on nine!” When Jesus takes compassion on the crowd, he doesn’t just see whatever particular or specific malady from which they suffer, “Hmm, looks like a case of leprosy, I think I can help with this…” No he sees the whole person; they are suffering in part, and so they are in need of salvation for the whole. Jesus sees with Kingdom eyes. His work of healing, forgiving sins and raising the dead are all one and part of the whole work of his bringing the saving Kingdom of God. On earth as it is in heaven, we pray. Jesus brings and enacts the Kingdom of Heaven here on earth. And so he can heal someone who is crippled or blind and then send them on their way saying, “Your faith has saved you.” 

In this light, that healing and saving are the same work of the Kingdom, we can now ask the most important question, which is always bound to get asked, “Can Jesus heal me?” That’s fine that Jesus healed the sick and made the blind to see and all that back then in those old bible stories, but can Jesus heal me today? Does Jesus make any difference in my life? Those are ultimately the questions we are bound to ask, not just can Jesus heal, but can Jesus heal me? And we see from the context, it is the same question, that is fine that Jesus saves, but can Jesus save me? Can Jesus forgive me? Can Jesus truly love me? It is for this reason Luther was so insistent that when we serve communion the most important words are “for you.” This is the body of Christ broken for you. Not the Southern “you” of y’all, but you, sitting there right now listening to my words…you. So that we might receive reassurance that indeed, the Kingdom of God and all its promises is indeed for you.

One of my favorite healing prayers I learned over the years is praying for someone to experience “God’s healing in absence of a cure.” That is, we have in mind a particular “cure.” God is going to heal the pain in my back or cure the cancer. But in the gospels healing is never limited to a “cure,” it is the whole person, the whole body/mind/soul wellness and even what we call your salvation. The prayer for ‘healing in the absence of a cure’ reminds us that when the Kingdom comes to us we receive the gift of healing even if there is not a particular “cure.” I find that more hopeful that the many false messages about healing that all sound like, “Well, if you had more faith you would be healed.” That somehow it is your fault for not praying enough or asking the right way or for having strong enough faith…as if faith is something you are responsible for. That is all pure hog-wash and has done a lot of damage to people over the years seeking God. Limiting God’s saving work to receiving a “cure” misses God’s compassionate work of healing that happens every time we receive his promises and eat the bread and wine. We end up either blaming God or blaming ourselves. That it is God’s fault for not being powerful enough or not listening or being caring enough. Or we blame ourselves that our faith must not be strong enough. What this blame does is misses the promise of the death and resurrection of Christ which is our ultimate healing.

Sarah’s grandfather was a pastor who claimed miraculous healings and wouldn’t let you leave until you spoke in tongues. I remember him telling me how three times the doctors had left him for dead, riddled with cancer and three times God had healed him and the doctors could not explain the scans now free of cancer. Me, not knowing when to keep my mouth shut, said, “Yeah, but you’re still gonna die.” My point was he had placed so much currency in the “cure” these signs pointing to the Kingdom, when the greatest currency is the very death and resurrection of Christ. We don’t have to point to the kingdom when we have the very thing. God’s saving Kingdom is here at work among you. And the word for saving and the word for healing are the same word. When you come up for communion and receive the bread and wine, you are able to announce, “I have been healed!” And it is true!

What we know is that Jesus looks at us with compassion. Deep emotion and feeling because we are like sheep without a shepherd. We are in need of all kinds of healing, from forgiveness to anger or judgmentalism…we are deeply sick. And Jesus layed his hands on each one of them and healed them.

And so as you come forward today hear the Kingdom promises as they come to you. When you receive the bread and wine, listen for those most important words that this is “for you.” This isn’t just the Kingdom of God hanging out there somewhere for only the most intrepid to find, but this is God coming to you, this is God’s salvation for you. Receive God’s healing. And then, should you choose, you can make your way over to our prayer ministers who will lay hands upon you and literally pray for Christ’s compassion upon you. Jesus said that in him “the Kingdom of God has come near.” And I believe that is still true today. God’s promises are right here, in the bread and wine, right here in the simple words “for you,” right here in the prayers and encouragement of the faithful. The Kingdom is still at work, and all came to him, and still all were healed. Amen

Sermon for July 14, 2024 8th Sunday after Pentecost

Guest Pastor Bishop Richard Jaech

Sermon for July 7, 2024 7th Sunday after Pentecost

Mark 6 Rejection of Jesus and Disciples

I grew up in the beautiful Skagit Valley, home of the tulip fields. My mom and dad still

comment on how they’ll be driving home from Seatac after a trip, and they’ll crest the top of

the hill at Conway and the then whole valley just opens up to you; and they always say no

matter where they have travelled there is nowhere as beautiful in the whole world. To quote

Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, “There’s no place like home.” Now, while to some, returning to

your hometown can be full of beauty and nostalgia (You can even buy a cheesy placard for

your living room that says, “Home is the starting place of love, hope and dreams.”), for others,

coming home, eh, it’s a little more complicated. I remember years ago when one of the

Lutheran churches in Mt. Vernon opened up for call and my mom was like, “You could come

home and be a pastor here!” And I was like, “Uh, no. These people knew me as a stupid kid.

They remember all the dumb stuff I did. You think they’d ever accept me as their pastor?”

Thomas Wolfe famously said, “You can never go home again.” And it is true insomuch as you

change, they change, but memory is a static thing. Even Taylor Swift, as mega-popular as she

is, said, “As supportive as my hometown is (she’s from Reading, Pennsylvania), in my High

School there are people who would probably walk up to me and punch me in the face.”

So in that light, did Jesus return to his hometown of Reading, Pennsylvania, with a naïve sense

of nostalgia? Or did he know he might get punched in the face? Maybe he thought they would

celebrate him and all the wonderful deeds of power he had done, the healings and casting out

demons. Jesus had certainly given them reason to celebrate his homecoming. Quite to the

contrary, no sooner had Jesus got up and preached in his hometown church in Nazareth than

they accused him, “Who does this Northern Yankee think he is?” Right? OK, so that’s the

movie “Sweet Home Alabama.” But really, they accuse him of getting too big for his britches.

“Who do you think you are? You think you’re better than us, now that you’re all famous and a

big deal? Besides, some of us remember that little business with your mommy and how she

wasn’t married when you were conceived.” You see, it was tradition and honorable to refer to

a man in that day as ‘son of his father.’ They should have called Jesus “Son of Joseph”; so when

they refer to him as “Son of Mary” this is really a startling dishonor. They are reminding him

that no one really knows who his daddy is and he might show up here thinking he’s a big deal,

but we all know he’s nothing but a bastard. And so they take offense at him. How dare he

think he can preach down to us. Their unbelief was so acute, it says it actually limited Jesus’

power to do healings in that place. Crazy, right?

You would expect Jesus to be nothing but celebrated in his hometown, heralded as local-boy-

makes-good, maybe even throw a parade in his honor. But for that matter, everywhere Jesus

goes there should be nothing but joyful receptions and faith overflowing like some old-

fashioned tent-revival. But it was never like that. Everywhere Jesus went he faced opposition,

rejection, even to the point of his own murder. And so what did the disciples expect? Maybe

they too were naively optimistic about the reception they would get when Jesus sent them out

into ministry, but Jesus warned them that when they were rejected they were to shake the

dust from their sandals as a testimony against them. He warned his disciples in no uncertain

terms, “If they persecuted me they will persecute you,” and again, “In this world you will have

trouble,” and finally, “If the world hates you it hated me first.” Christ expressly warns his

church that the work you do in this world will not be met with flowers and parades, but with

opposition and rejection. Why? What is it about the message of Jesus Christ that is so

offensive?

For a time there in my career I used to welcome everyone to church by saying, “Good

morning, sinners!” Now, for those who’ve been a part of the Lutheran church a while, they

know that saint and sinner is one of the favorite Lutheran paradoxes, so to playfully call

ourselves “sinner” is to be followed with, “Yeah, while of course I am a sinner, I’ve got good

news! Christ has called me saint. I am forgiven and a new creation.” It’s all kind of tongue-in-

cheek. It’s like calling a seven foot pro-wrestler “Tiny.” Maybe I used to be small, but look at

me now. However, the Old Adam, the Old Sinner can’t stand being reminded that, A) He is a

sinner, indeed and, B) he is daily being put to death by Christ’s word of forgiveness. The Old

Adam doesn’t want to be called ‘sinner’, he would rather play religious; and so people would

object, saying things like, “Do you really need to call us sinners every Sunday? I mean, these

are good people here,” or my favorite, “I’m just tired of coming to church and being told what

a bad person I am.” The Old Adam wants to think that he is on some great religious project

where calling one another sinner is inappropriate because I have worked really hard to be a

“good” person. It’s all tom-foolery of course. Luther in his Small Catechism says that

opposition to the gospel comes from three places: the self, the world and the devil. The self –

he means the old self, the old sinner who will always reject the gospel being done to us, that it

comes purely as a free gift from God and doesn’t require me to do anything religious first. The

world opposes the gospel because, well, the world is full of selfs! And the nature of the world

is selfish gain, complacency over injustice and suffering, and even violence to get ahead. And

finally, the devil. As if we needed any help opposing the gospel. The point being, there is very

real opposition to the gospel. And so when we ask, “Why is the message of Jesus Christ so

offensive?” Why would his hometown reject him? Why would the Pharisees and priests want

him dead? Why would the world hate him? It is because there are very real forces at work

opposing the gospel and those forces begin right here in your own selfish heart, my lovely little

sinners. 

No one likes to have their sins pointed out. Naming sins is painful. Take the prophet Ezekiel.

While the scroll that God gave to Ezekiel tasted sweet like honey in his mouth, the words

themselves were a burden to the Israelites. God warns him, “I am sending you to my people

Israel, a rebellious and sinful people, impudent and stubborn, but I am sending you to them.”

And then I love this verse, “And whether they hear or refuse to hear, that they shall know that

there has been a prophet among them.” I love it because it is kind of clarifying for me. I mean,

put quite simply: sinner’s gonna sin, devil’s gonna do what the devil does; the Old Adam is

gonna do his Old Adam stuff; and the Gospel is the Gospel. You can’t change the Gospel, it is

what it is. And you can’t change the Old Adam, he will always oppose God. So what’s your and

my job? Preach. Preach the Word. So that whether they hear the word or refuse to hear the

word, at least they might know that the promises of God were among them. Luther says that

God doesn’t sit around twiddling his thumbs while the self and the world and the devil oppose

and thwart his kingdom. Above all he sends his Word, his promises of forgiveness and eternal

life. Those promises when preached are the death of the old sinner and they are the

strengthening and encouraging of your faith. So like Ezekiel choking down that weird scroll on

our bulletin cover this morning, we have only been given one thing, and that is the word of

God. We only go out into this world that is hostile to God armed with only one thing, the

promises of Christ.

I close in that spirit with the words from our short little psalm this morning, Psalm 123,

“Though I have had my fill of contempt and my soul has had more than its fill of scorn; yet to

you, O Lord, I lift my eyes, You who are enthroned in the heavens for you have had mercy

upon us.” You have had mercy upon us. Despite the scorn and contempt, God’s mercy is

without end. This is the only word by which you are sent and it is God’s final word. Mercy

without end. Amen.

Sermon for June 30, 2024 6th Sunday after Pentecost

Mark 5 Jesus heals the woman with the bleed and Jairus’ daughter I am the youngest of five siblings. That means I was sometimes the victim of certain shenanigans. I remember one

time my older brother and his friends were grabbing the electric fence. We had two horses on the back acre and you only had to learn the lesson once not to brush up against the

electric fence. So my brother’s friend was grabbing the fence and going, “It’s not on! Look, it’s not shocking me!” I watched as he fully grabbed the fence for several seconds. “It must

not be on,” I thought. So I too reached out to test the fence by grabbing it. Unbeknownst to me, my older brother was at the switch-box watching; he had turned the power off for his

friend and now that his little brother was reaching for the fence he threw the power back on. Such is my deep mistrust of allyou older siblings out there. When the woman with the

bleed reached out and touched Jesus’ cloak I don’t think there was an electrical shock or current passing into her.Neither do I think there was a visible spark like the artwork on our

bulletin cover this morning. But there was an exchange of power! It says that the moment the womantouched Jesus’ cloak she felt in herself that she was healed. And what more it

says that Jesus likewise felt power go out from him. He stopped in the middle of this pressing crowd and asked, “Who touched me?” I love the disciples’ reaction, “The crowd is

literally pressing in on you from every side. How can you ask, ‘Who touched me?’” But Jesus is insistent; he is searching the crowd looking for who had touched him, he knew that

healing power had gone forth from him! The woman finally falls at Jesus’ feet, she is afraid and trembling, and tells him the truth of what had happened. She has had a menstrual

bleed these nlast twelve years. She had spent all her money on doctors but still the bleed only got worse. She thought to herself, “If I just touch his cloak I will be healed.” And so

she did. And did you hear Jesus’ next word? The very next word out of Jesus’ mouth is, “Daughter.” He calls the woman daughter. “Your faith has made you well, go in peace and be

healed from your disease.” I love this healing story. The faith the woman puts just in the hem of Jesus’ cloak reminds me of the mustard seed, or the mother asking for just a single

crumb from the master’s table. Just touching the hem of his cloak is enough; and she was healed. Power was exchanged as the healing power of Christ goes into this woman, making

her well. But the way Mark tells this story, it is beautifully woven and crafted as a story within a story. The healing of this woman with the twelve year bleed is right in the middle of

this healing story of Jairus’ daughter. Jairus was a leader in the local synagogue. As a religious leader, really he should have been opposed to Jesus, testing him and attempting to

discredit him like all the other religious leaders. Except Jairus had a daughter who was sick. And not just sick…at the point of death. The Greek is almost more of a gut-punch, it says

the little girl was, “holding at the end.” Holding at the end means the same thing of course as “at the point of death” but it has this sense of the end is here and she is barely holding

on by a thread as the end has come. It is a desperate time. She is only twelve years old; it is a tragic time. Out of this desperation, Jairus comes not as a religious leader, but as a

father, falling at Jesus’ feet and begging him again and again thathe might come and lay hands on her that she might be made well. It would have been a powerful scene, this

religious leader down in the dust begging at the feet of Jesus. A full testimony of the power and person of Jesus to heal and make well. It is a story within a story because we are

meant to see all the little similarities and parallels between Jairus and his daughter with the woman who came with the bleed. Both Jairus and the woman prostrate themselves at

Jesus feet. Both demonstrate this amazing faith that Jesus can heal. And of course how long had the woman had her bleed? (12 years) And how old was the little girl? (12 years) This

woman had had her bleed the entire length of time Jairus’ daughter had been alive. And my favorite, Jairus comes begging as a desperate father for his beloved daughter, and what

does Jesus call this grown woman who touched his cloak? He calls her daughter. Jesus sees this grown woman the same way Jairus begs for his own little girl. Now this all matters,

because as Jesus takes that extra time to search the crowd and ask who touched him, what happens? We find out the little girl has died. Jairus’ daughter who was “holding on at the

end” is holding on no more. She has lost her battle with whatever illness had plagued her and the news comes to Jairus there in the crowd, “Your daughter is dead. Do not trouble the

teacher any further.” We aren’t told Jairus’ reaction, but can you imagine having watched Jesus “waste” time in the crowd looking for whoever touched him. Even the whole

interaction with the woman was wasting time. She had had a bleed for twelve years; surely a few more moments would not have hurt her! Again, we see that Jesus could have used a

good triage nurse. This little girl over here is at the point of death, she has priority, heal her, then you can heal whoever you want with these chronic conditions. I don’t know about

Jairus, but I would have been furious; I mean, enraged. Overhearing what they are talking about, Jesus turns to Jairus and simply says, “Do not fear. Only believe.” The same faith

that sent Jairus to Jesus in the first place, Jesus seems to be saying, “What’s death got to do with it? You trusted me when she was hanging on at the edge of death; why do you not

trust now on the other side of that same edge?” Christians have this funny thinking that somehow death is final. Weird, right? That you have until your death bed to accept Jesus but

once you’ve died, well, there’s nothing Jesus can do, it’s too late. To which the one whom broke the seal of the tomb and shattered the bonds of death asks, “What’s death got to do

with it? Do not fear. Just believe. Am I the Lord of both life and death or not?” Do not fear; only trust. Jesus enters Jairus’ house and people are loudly weeping. They have every

reason to weep, but remember this is also a culture where people hired themselves out to be professional “wailers” because they were really good at it. Not to diminish the legitimate

grief, but there was also the belief that the louder the wailing the more honor to the deceased. Jesus asks, “What is with all this commotion? The child is not dead, only sleeping.”

Now, of course she is dead. They know she’s dead. And Jesus is no fool, he knows she’s dead. But he plays their absurdity with absurdity of his own, exposing their unfaith. They even

mock him and begin laughing at him. Point made, because if they were genuinely grieving they could not have laughed. But the mocking here reminds me of the unfaith of the

disciples earlier as they too mock Jesus, “There’s crowds all around you! How can you ask who touched me?” Unfaith is swirling around Jesus. The household, the disciples openly

mocking him. In this crowd of unfaith Jesus’ words to Jairus shine like a beacon, “Do not be afraid. Only believe.” Jesus takes only his closest disciples and the girl’s mother and

father into the dark room and approaching the sick bed takes the hand of the dead girl into his hand and says to her, “Little girl, rise up.” It is the exact same verb used later in the

New Testament to speak of the resurrection. “Rise up, little girl” is the same word as rising up with Christ. Jesus has joined this little girl to his own death and his own resurrection.

This is the power of Christ’s healing. This is the power that went out from him into the woman with the bleed. Not an electrical switch thrown as the shock of the fence comes back

on, but the power of his resurrection. The power of healing is Jesus’ power over illness and disease. His power is the defeat of the devil and all his forces. Jesus’ power is the power

over death. And Jesus’ power today for you is the power of his resurrection. Jesus raises two daughters in our text today. It makes no difference that one is at death’s door and the

other has lived with a chronic 12-year bleed; in Jesus’ eyes they are both daughters, both are his precious daughters and he is a desperate father to see them made well. This is how

Jesus sees us. Jesus sees you as his dear, precious child. Jesus sees you in your suffering and desperately wants you to be made well. Enough to suffer upon the cross, enough to taste

death and decay of the grave. There in the darkest corners of the tomb Jesus speaks to you, “Do not be afraid. Only believe.” And here in these waters, in the waters of baptism, and

again and again in our confession we are joined to Christ’s dying and then, how much more, are we joined to Christ’s rising as Jesus takes you by the hand and speaks, “Dear child.

Arise. Rise with me. I have joined you to my own death and resurrection. You are forever mine.” Amen.

Sermon for June 23, 2024 5th Sunday after Pentecost

Mark 4:35 Jesus Stills the Storm

So tomorrow morning bright and early we begin Vacation Bible School; I’m super excited and

also kind of nervous. I saw this meme this week of before and after VBS, so true. As I

mentioned and by all the decorations you saw coming in this morning (and by the way, don’t

you love our yellow submarine!?) our theme is Under the Sea, and this morning’s Gospel story

where Jesus calms the storm is actually one of our Bible stories this week, I think Tuesday,

right? And anyone who is even remotely a fan of Disney movies knows of course where we

stole the theme from. (Stole? …borrowed.) Under the Sea is one of the most iconic songs from

Disney’s The Little Mermaid, but no, we won’t be singing that particular song this week. I don’t

want to hear from Disney’s lawyers. But the Gospel story this morning certainly conjures up

images from the very beginning of the Little Mermaid movie. Prince Eric is out exploring and

gallivanting on a ship when a sudden storm swoops in. There is commotion and panic as fierce

winds blow and waves begin to buffet the ship. Lightning strikes the mast, starts a fire and of

course Prince Eric ends up overboard, sinking into the depths where he is saved by, of

course…Jesus! No, he isn’t saved by Jesus, but I had to bring it back to the Gospel. You see the

same scene in your mind, don’t you, as it says Jesus and the disciples took their fishing boats

out on the lake when a great windstorm arose, (just like Prince Eric) and the waves were

beating at the boats so that they were in danger of being swamped. But here’s the best

part…where was Jesus? Asleep in the back of the boat. How do you even sleep through a

storm? I don’t know, but we’ll get back to that later. First, a little more about that storm.

The Sea of Galilee is in a valley surrounded by mountains, so it was not uncommon for sudden

winds to sweep down and cause storms. In fact, as recently as 1992 a particularly violent

storm on the Sea of Galilee recorded waves at heights of over 10 feet. And Jesus’ disciples

were veteran fishermen; so they’d seen their fair share of storms. But there they are, bailing

water, legitimately afraid for the lives. So this was no ordinary storm. It literally calls it “a great

storm of wind,” but I love some of the other translations: a furious squall; a fierce windstorm;

or my favorite, a violent wind. Have you ever lived in hurricane country? Or tornado country?

They say it sounds like a locomotive bearing down on you and it is one of the most terrifying

experiences, and that’s just the sound of the wind. Add to that the violence of the waves and

wind…I don’t know about you, but I find the thought of being swept into the deep and

drowning as I sank into the abyss utterly terrifying. And so did the ancient Hebrews. The sea in

the Bible is almost always a metaphor for chaos and terror. We see it right away in Genesis 1:1

where it says in the beginning the earth was a formless void and the spirit hovered over the

waters, or the spirit moved over the deep. This is the Hebrew’s answer to the ancient

Babylonian creation myth of Marduk and Tiamat. Do you know this one? The god Marduk slays

the chaos dragon Tiamat with his sword and out of the divided chaos-beast the world is born.

Notice in the Hebrew creation story God likewise divides the watery-chaos-beast, only unlike

Marduk who uses a sword, God needs only…his Word. “Let there be…” and the ancient foe of

darkness and watery chaos is divided and slain. In the ancient world the dark watery depths

are representative of threats of death and anything that stands against the power of life. For

example Scriptures like Psalm 18, “The cords of death entangled me; the torrents of

destruction overwhelmed me.” Or Psalm 29, “The Lord sits enthroned over the flood.” Or

again our Psalm for this morning, Psalm 107, “They mounted up to the heavens and went

down to the depths; in their peril their courage melted away.   They reeled and staggered like

drunkards; they were at their wits’ end.   Then they cried out to the Lord in their trouble, and he

brought them out of their distress.   He stilled the storm to a whisper; the waves of the sea were

hushed.” The storm as a symbol of all the powers standing against God, all the forces working

against God’s good order and God’s gift of life. And this was no ordinary storm, but as the

translation calls it, a furious storm or a violent wind. And remember, that the word for spirit is

also the word for breath or wind. And so when Genesis says the spirit moved over the waters,

the Spirit is God’s wind, God’s breath. It is the Spirit of life, the Spirit of creation. Whereas this

wind that threatens Jesus’ disciples is described as a “violent” wind. It is not a spirit of life, but

a spirit of violence. It stands opposed to God like a blaspheming spirit, filled with arrogance

and spite as it can only threaten with violence and cause death and destruction. But it is safe

to say this violent and blasphemous wind has met its match.

Again, where is Jesus? Asleep in the back of the boat. What do the disciples do? They rebuke

him, “Teacher, wake up! Do you not care that we are perishing?” Now, some say this is

evidence of the disciples’ faith, that they woke him up believing that he could perform a

miracle and save them. I say hogwash. Since when are the disciples ever an example of faith?

Rather, I think this is sheer panic turned to outrage as they are bailing water to save their skins

and Jesus is sleeping through it?! Shouldn’t he be helping with a bucket or something? What

good is Jesus asleep in the back of the boat? Aha, I actually think that is the most important

question we can ask: What good is a sleeping Jesus, anyways? I’ll come back to that for my

grand finale. So Jesus wakes up and what does he do? He rebukes the wind, “Silence! Be still!”

And…immediately the storm was silenced and the water became dead calm. Have you ever

woken up early in the morning when you’re camping and the lake is just glassy calm, so still it

reflects everything like a mirror. Imagine going from the storm at the beginning of The Little

Mermaid to that glassy calm. It says the disciples were terrified, and can you blame them?

They ask, and I think this is the right question, “Who is this that even the wind and waves obey

him?” Who is this, indeed? Remember when God slayed the watery chaos dragon with nothing

but his word? In John chapter one it says that Word was Christ, “In the beginning was the

word and the word was with God and the word was God…and the word became flesh and

dwelt among us.” That means that Jesus was the Word God used to divide the watery depths

in the beginning, and so really, what chance did this little storm on the Sea of Galilee stand

against this one, the Word made flesh? And so the disciples ask, “Who is this?” Who is this

indeed? This is none other than the very Word of God that called and ordered all things into

being. And so the disciples are faithless and full of fear, because who can possibly comprehend

that? And I think that is how Jesus was sleeping even as the winds blew violently and spray

from the waves stung his face; he slept because this storm was no threat to him, how could it

be? He is the Word that has existed from before all things. What did Jesus have to worry or

fear?

But that is the power of the promise for us! The watery deep is still symbolic of all things that

stand against God, all the powers of death and all the forces of terror and violence, and our

lives and our world are still profligate with those! From literal storms that are increasing in

intensity, to wars that rage in Gaza and Ukraine, to threats of violence here at home and of

course death’s knocking come to our own door – we know too well what it is to fear and lose

faith as the wind and waves batter us and the depths threaten to swallow us. Where is God

when the waves threaten us? Where is God when death comes for us? Where is God, as the

hymnist famously asks, when all the wrong seems oft so strong? Are you ready for the

answer? You’re gonna love it. Where is God? God is…asleep in the back of your boat.

Remember when I asked, what use is a sleeping Jesus? What use is a Christ who is asleep in

the back of the boat? What use is a Messiah dead and lying in a grave? What use is a dead

Messiah hanging on a cross? Answer: God, in his perfectly upside down kingdom uses that

which is useless to deliver the very best gifts of his kingdom. God uses the dead guy on the

cross to forgive the sins of the world. God uses the dead Messiah rotting in the tomb to defeat

death once and for all. And so it turns out, Jesus sleeping in the back of your boat is the most

powerful thing you can have, because that one sleeping is none other than God’s eternal

Word, there from the beginning of creation and there at the end of all things to call you into

his kingdom of new life. His word is your forgiveness. His word is your salvation. Turns out

there’s nothing else you need than Jesus sleeping in the back of your boat. Amen.