4 Easter Yr B April 21 2024, Christ the King (Sturgeon Bay, WI) - Holy Nativity (Jacksonport, WI)

4 Easter Yr B April 21 2024, Christ the King (Sturgeon Bay, WI) - Holy Nativity (Jacksonport, WI)

Acts 4:5-12, 1 John 3:16-24, John 10:11-18, Psalm 23

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want. He makes me lie down in green pastures and leads me beside still waters. The words of this 23rd Psalm may be the most familiar words in the bible. The image of Jesus the Good Shepherd may be the most familiar image in the bible. It is depicted in artwork and in music and in beloved stained glass. We describe congregations as flocks, we describe pastors as shepherds. It isn't the only image of Jesus, but it may be the most comfortable. However, Jesus is also the bread, the light, a path, a gate, a vine. No matter how beloved, the Good Shepherd image is one among many that John presents to us.

Each one of the images that is presented to us about who Jesus is, the shepherd, the bread, the light, a path, a gate, a vine reveals something about the fullness and the wholeness and the extent of Jesus' invitation into the reality of the gift of God's love, the gift of God in our midst. Each of these images invites us in a different sort of way into how we might be related, how we might be in relationship, and what that trust is like and what it is about. This image we have before us today, this image of the Good Shepherd, helps us to see the fullness of God's investment in God's project of calling all people to God's self. We have in this story comfort and trust and guidance and we are called by name.

Hear the sound of your name as the one you love speaks it. Hear the sound of your name when your best friend in all the world is on the other end of the phone. Remember the sound of your name when your mom called you for dinner, or maybe used your entire name when you did something you shouldn’t have done, KATHLEEN ANN MONSON, or when she sang you to sleep at night. Even remember the sound of your name when used in anger, or in fear, KATHY, get out of the street! Or when your beloved calls out to you. When you hear your name like this, you know the one who is speaking it knows who you are. They’ve known you forever, they knew you before you were born, they’ve expected your homecoming, they named you, they love you. 

Hear the sound of your name as this one who loves you speaks it. You were called into being before you were born. Your name was spoken at your baptism. You are called to be the person you were created to be, the minister you were created to be. Kathy, follow me, you’ll be fed at green pastures and by still waters, I will guide you along right pathways, and be by your side through the valley of the shadow of death. I will feed you and fill you. You have been anointed for the work I call you to do. 

Who is this Good Shepherd that we follow? What makes the Good Shepherd good? For that we need to look at another story, the one that precedes this Good Shepherd story in John. Remember, location, location, location. It is what precedes the Good Shepherd story that tells us who this Good Shepherd is. In the story of the man born blind we have the sign that points us to the Good Shepherd. Jesus heals the man born blind. It’s an unprecedented miracle. And if that’s not enough, it is also an invitation to the possibilities of abundant life, as are all the signs in John. You have heard me speak of the themes in the gospel of John, and here is another one, grace upon grace. The granting of sight sign is grace, and what it signifies is grace upon grace. This man born blind has literally been in the dark, and now is in the light. The man born blind has moved from unbelief to belief. The blind man listens to Jesus’ voice and follows Jesus’ direction. The blind man first hears Jesus, just as Jesus’ sheep hear the shepherd’s voice.

And what happens to the man born blind once he is no longer blind? He is thrown to the curb, cast aside, marginalized, and Jesus, the Good Shepherd, calls to him, just as he calls to us, just as he calls to each and every one of God’s beloveds. That’s what makes the Good Shepherd good, no one is outside the Good Shepherd’s embrace. 

Jesus is the shepherd, calling my name, calling your name. Come, come with me, walk with me into this amazing place, run into my arms, into my embrace, this place of love, this place of life. Jesus says “I am the door, come through this door, here is a place of protection, of nurture, of sustenance, this is a place created for you.” And when our eyes are opened, when we hear and recognize the voice of the one who creates us, and comes to be with us, and loves us, we run through that door. 

And what’s more, is that Jesus does this again, and again, Jesus calls his followers by name, but not just you and me, Lazarus as well. You remember, Lazarus had been dead for four days. Jesus arrived at the tomb of his friend, and Jesus wept, and Jesus called to Lazarus, Lazarus, come out! In hearing his name, Lazarus came out, and was unbound, set free. Lazarus, the one who was dead, is now alive. 

But not even just you and me and Lazarus, Mary as well. Mary stood weeping at Jesus’ tomb. She bent over to look into the tomb and saw two angels in white, sitting where Jesus should have been. She did not know where Jesus had been taken. 

She turned around and Jesus was standing there, but she didn’t know him, she thought he was the gardener. Until he spoke to her, until he called her name, Mary! She turned and saw him, teacher! Mary went and announced to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord!” I have seen the Lord!

Lazarus lives! 

Mary proclaims!

We hear Jesus call our name, we recognize Jesus is the door through which we too can see God’s presence with us, making us into a beloved being. Giving us sight that enables us to see Jesus in our midst, in ourselves, in one another. Giving us sight that enables us to proclaim, like Mary, I have seen the Lord!

And what’s more, what’s even more over the top, more abundant, more amazing, is that Jesus, the door into God’s embrace, God’s love, is not exclusive or judging. This not about keeping people out, this is Jesus inviting people into new life, abundant life. “I am the door” is to invite people in, to recognize God in the flesh that is Jesus’ new and abundant life. To hear the voice of the shepherd, to walk through the door that is open, is to follow Jesus into Life, abundant life. Life in the here and now and life eternal in the resurrection. Life in the here and now because Jesus lays down his life for us, and life even when Jesus leaves us. You are enough, see Jesus, recognize Jesus is God with us, walk through the door, and receive life, abundant life. 

Jesus is the gate. And every sheep, everyone, is welcome. There is no priority of worth in God’s kingdom. All of us, those who are in pain, grief; those who are just messed up; those whose lives are just fine; those who need more and those who have all they need; those who just can’t believe. You, you are welcome, Jesus is the gate, Jesus is the shepherd, Jesus is the love that wins. 

​​3 Easter Year B April 14 2024

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​​3 Easter Year B April 14 2024 St. Martha and Mary, Eagan

Acts 3:12-19, 1 John 3:1-7, Luke 24:36b-48, Psalm 4

 

Let's start with some fantasy casting today shall we? If you were choosing the lead in the next blockbuster about averting the disaster that destroys the earth, who would be the one who saves the world? The James Bond type, like Daniel Craig? The Marvel Hero type, like Captain Marvel herself, maybe Harrison Ford, he’s always good as the hero. Which one of these could play The Messiah, the one who saves the world? Who would be your Fantasy Messiah?

 

You may think I'm being silly here, and maybe I am, but the faithful people of the early 1st century  were waiting with baited breath and wild anticipation for the one, the messiah, who would rescue them out of their predicament, and at the very least, put them into power and vanquish the Romans and the Greeks and the Temple Priests.  

 

And at every turn, Jesus, the messiah they got, was nothing like the Fantasy Messiah they had dreamed about, that they had imagined. Not in life, not in death, not in resurrection. Jesus, the Messiah they got, lived a quiet, nondescript life, grew up to be a teacher, of all things, ended up on a Roman cross, reserved for criminals, and died. To the world, the whole sordid affair looked like failure.

 

And then, after death, Jesus shows up in locked rooms, and on roads to nowhere. Jesus shows up, and just as in life they didn't recognize him as the messiah, in death they don't recognize him as Jesus, the one who was God in the flesh. The one who is the incarnation. They were terrified and afraid, they thought they were seeing a ghost.

 

They just couldn't believe what they were seeing. Feed me, he says, and he shows them the holes in his flesh. Maybe what Jesus is doing here is showing incarnation again, in the flesh, even after resurrection. Maybe Jesus is showing that God continues to be engaged in mundane activities, like eating. Because the reality here, and in all these stories we hear after Jesus' death on the cross, and the empty tomb, is that hardly anyone believed it. Traditionally, Thomas has gotten the bad rap, but really, very few believe it. In the Gospel of Luke, no one believes it.

 

This is the first time we read Luke this Easter season, so let's take a quick look at it. Those who went to the tomb found the stone rolled away, and when they went in, they did not find the body. The women were terrified, they saw what they thought were two men in dazzling clothes, who helped the women remember what they had been told about what would happen. Then the women remembered Jesus' words, and returning from the tomb, they told all this to the eleven and to the rest. In Luke's telling, there were no words of "I have seen the Lord." The response to the women, in Luke's telling,in the Greek, the word that gets translated nonsense, or an idle tale, is the root of our word, delirious. So in response to the testimony of the women, the disciples say they are out of their freakin' minds.  Then, on the same day, two of them were going to Emmaus, while they were on the road, Jesus walked with them and told them stories, and they did not believe that it was Jesus until Jesus ate with them.

 

When we disbelieve, we are in good company. I have never believed that this life of being a follower of Jesus excludes disbelief. The story we live and breathe, the story of incarnation and resurrection, is inconceivable. Made more so when we try desperately to make it all make sense.

 

So what is so compelling about this story that has caused it to be authoritative and enlivening for centuries? The story is true. The story is true. It is true not because it is fact or because it is history. It is true in the way of truth that speaks into the deepest crevices of our broken hearts, it is true in the way of truth that speaks into our deepest joy, it is true in the way of truth that speaks into our deepest hungers that cannot be satisfied by only food, but by food that is shared. Truth is beyond ordinary fact, facts are important but not enough, they do not take you where you need to go.

 

Facts do not take you into the hospital room when you know that your loved one will die. Truth takes you there, the truth of love, the truth of pain, the truth of compassion, the truth that something arises out of it that only your heart knows, words can not.

 

Facts do not take you to the place where you are willing to give your heart to another. Truth takes you there, the truth that together you are so much more than you are alone, the truth that what you want is your beloved's happiness and joy.

 

If even the disciples lived in disbelief, if even the disciples believed all this talk of resurrection is freakin' inconceivable, what makes us think we are any different? It is not up to us anyway to believe and not doubt. Even theology cannot say enough about God to make you believe. It is up to us though, in the midst of darkness and pain, to say yes to love and life. It is up to us, when what looks like loss and failure to say yes to transformation and love and life.

 

Our disbelief does not stop us from following Jesus. Our disbelief does not change the truth that love wins, not power. Belief finally arises out of the reality of our lives. Faith is the acceptance of disbelief, of doubt. Faith is when we come to the place where we can embrace the truth of love, the inconceivability of incarnation, faith is when we can come to the place where we can trudge through the muck and the mess of this life, and know that in it we are not alone. Faith is when we are freed to love ourselves, we are freed to love each other. Faith is when we accept our freedom to love and serve others, and that love bears us up to do what Jesus calls us to do.

 

Faith is not in a fantasy messiah, faith is not in a superhero. Faith is in the love that goes to inconceivable heights and depths to accompany us in all that this life throws at us. And then it is in that place that we discover our own superpower, faith, and hope, and love. 

Blessing - In honor of Roger Payntor, the best preaching professor ever.

May God give you grace not to sell yourself short; 

grace to risk something big for something good; 

and grace to remember the world is now too dangerous 

for anything but truth and too small for anything but love.

And may the blessing of God,

Creator, Redeemer, Spirit 

be with you today and always,

Amen.

Fourth Sunday in Lent Yr B March 10 2024

Fourth Sunday in Lent Yr B March 10 2024 St. Martha and Mary, Egan MN Numbers 21:4-9, Ephesians 2:1-10, John 3:14-21, Psalm 107:1-3, 17-22

Location, location, location, continues to be our theme. In order to understand this passage from John that we just heard we must put it in its context, so we need to consider the story that precedes it. The story of Nicodemus. Nicodemus must have been curious about Jesus but because he is a Jewish leader, he could not be caught going to see Jesus, so he comes to Jesus by night. It’s pretty clear that Nicodemus doesn’t fully understand what is going on or who Jesus is. That is true in most of John’s gospel. Remember, Nicodemus hears Jesus speak these unfamiliar and foreign words about being born from above and wonders out loud about what that could even be about. Nicodemus is astounded and asks Jesus how these things can be. And with that question, you and I hear these very familiar words we hear today, “for God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.” And, I am not even going to talk about those most familiar words, because really, there is so much more to hear in this reading.

Firstly, God gives Godself, God comes into humanity so that humanity may live. And secondly, that this is the time for discernment because the light of the world is shining bright. This is some really exciting news. 

In John’s gospel there is much language about ascending and descending. We see and hear that theme depicted in artwork and in poetry throughout history. But what is it that John is trying so hard to get across to Nicodemus, to the disciples, to us? Incarnation, God in our midst, Jesus in flesh and blood, is all about how God stoops into our lives and our hearts to raise us up and call us into relationship. And how different this is from before Jesus, when God was literally in a box, in the ark of the covenant, God is now in flesh and blood. This is what John’s language is all about. God descends, God comes to humanity for the sake of love, to bring humanity back to Godself. God comes to humanity in flesh and blood to bring new life. This is Jesus. This is the Word; this is God’s language of love. 

But there is a price to pay even for God. All incarnation, Jesus, you and me, all flesh and blood dies. That is the story we embark upon each Holy Week. That is the scandal of incarnation. And this is what John means with eternal life. The arc of John’s story is all about incarnation and continues to resurrection and ascension. Jesus returns to God for the purpose of preparing our place with God. So, the story goes to and through the cross, but the story does not end there. The eternal life that God offers through the flesh and blood of Jesus is relationship and love. There is a place prepared for us. 

You see, God makes the first move, God reaches out to creation in love, God becomes flesh and blood so that humanity may not be alone in this human journey. God knows it’s hard enough alone, so God in flesh and blood accompanies us on this journey. But because God in Jesus is flesh and blood, Jesus dies. But we are not left alone, God moves among us, Jesus accompanies us, the Spirit envelopes us. However, John makes it clear that this is not a transactional relationship. It is an unconditional relationship. This is the part that is so hard to wrap our minds and our hearts around. This isn’t a check off the boxes kinda deal. This is an all encompassing no matter what kinda deal. 

The hard part is that we live in a world in which we must run faster, work harder, make more money, be beautiful, have the most stuff in order to be valued, or loved, or feared, so that we can get the reward. That is not God’s love in Jesus, that is a lie. Eternal life is what God offers us here and now and in response we go out and love our neighbor, and our family, and those whose reality we cannot know. 

And that brings us to the second part of what John is trying to tell us here. My friends, the Light comes into the world, this is the time, there is no other. You see, the here and now of eternal life is a critical promise for us today, not just a future time or place. This is a moment of discernment. A closer translation of verse 19 rejects judgment in favor of discernment. So, it reads, “this is the time of discernment because the light of the world is shining bright; and we choose to ignore what’s being revealed.” Discernment means deep listening to God’s call to us, deep listening to what God would have us be about, deep listening to the love that sustains us. The Light of the world is shining bright, and it is time to deeply listen to what God is revealing now. The light is shining bright, this is the time of revelation. Nicodemus comes to Jesus in the dark, Judas betrays Jesus in the dark, Peter denies Jesus in the dark. The problem is that they all saw the light, but were afraid. The light comes into the world, but people continue to hide in the dark. 

Let’s bathe in the warmth and the love of the light. You see, living in the light is about telling the truth. Throughout my many years of ministry, I have taught about what I call the four marks of ministry. Showing up, listening, telling the truth, and letting go of the outcome. Do you recognize these in this passage of John? They are there, showing up is about being really present in your relationships and listening deeply to those who are present with you. 

That brings us to telling the truth, where we find ourselves today. Living in the light is about telling the truth and hearing the truth about all of our earnest goodness and all of our stupid mistakes. And telling the truth seems to be really hard these days. Telling the truth and hearing the truth in these days means that we must do some things differently. It means we must let go of our need to be right, and instead we must listen deeply to the lives of those we differ from; those who are immigrants, those whose skin color is different from our own, those whose gender and preference we just don’t get; those whose experience with sexual bias or even violence is outside of our particular box. 

Jesus calls us to listen deeply, and to love deeply. And in the beginning and the end, the alpha and omega, God’s light shines in the darkness, God’s love walks this earth, and God’s love wins. When we are low, sprawled on the floor, in the trench or the gutter, God reaches out and raises us up, Jesus walks by our side showing the way, and we carry the light and the love we have been given to all those we encounter.

First Sunday after Christmas Dec 31 2023

First Sunday after Christmas Dec 31 2023 at Sts. Luke and  John Episcopal Church

Isaiah 61:10-62:3, Galatians 3:23-25; 4:4-7, John 1:1-18, Psalm 147 or 147:13-21

John begins at the beginning; in the beginning was the Word. John, very intentionally, places us at the beginning. The first words of John’s gospel are quite similar to the first words of scripture in Genesis. These must have been words that John had on his heart, in the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth. And John very intentionally introduces us to one of the themes that for him shapes all of faith, the light that comes into the world.

John 1 from The Message reads, “The Word was first, the Word present to God, God present to the Word. The Word was God, in readiness for God from day one. Everything was created through him; nothing—not one thing!—came into being without him. What came into existence was Life, and the Life was Light to live by. The Life-Light blazed out of the darkness; the darkness couldn’t put it out.”

John’s beginning parallels Genesis 1. From the Message Genesis 1 reads, “God spoke: “Light!” And light appeared. God saw that light was good and separated light from dark. God named the light Day, and named the dark Night. It was evening, it was morning—Day One.”

How do we imagine this wondrous thing that God does? Creation, incarnation, resurrection. Sometimes it seems so huge I cannot even begin to reason it out, and yet, every year we try to reason it out by visiting again the story of the baby, born in a barn, attended by shepherds, and angels, and animals, his parents, and eventually the visitors from the East. But, as my favorite author Madeleine L’engle writes in her book, Bright Evening Star, it is not for reason that God comes into our lives, but for love. 

So, this is how I imagine it. I’m swimming, maybe snorkeling or even SCUBA diving in a beautiful, sun filled ocean. I dive. I dive deep. I dive to the depths of the ocean. It is cold, and dark, and beautiful. I see fish I’ve never seen before, and vegetation, but it is through the darkness of that ocean water. And I can see only what is in front of my face. My breath is shallow, not deep and complete. Not only are there beautiful fish, but there are fish that look like monsters. I return to the surface and the sun and warmth and light, but very slowly, because I must - having dived so deep. On my return, I see more clearly, breathe more deeply.

I think this is what incarnation is like, this is what resurrection is like, this is what life is like. God dives down deep into our dimly lit lives, our lives as we live them in the depths of God’s ocean. And this is what Jesus does, Jesus swims around and enlightens our underwater vision so we can see and care for all of the teeming creation. And Jesus picks us up off the bottom of the ocean and carries us into that sunshine, into that new life that we inhabit. You may love completely; in ways you could never have imagined before, feeling the warmth of the sunshine all over your body. 

Incarnation, resurrection, birthed out of the waters of creation, the waters of baptism, the waters of new life. Bathed in the light that dispels the darkness. John holds on to the hope that the smallest source of light might create the possibility of belief. 

John uses this theme of light and dark to try to show us something really important. For John, darkness represents the lack of relationship. God speaks the Word into this darkness, Jesus dives into our lives for light, for love, for relationship. John calls us to turn around and face the Light, to fall on our knees and be forgiven. And today John calls us to be partners with him in showing the way to the Light.

We are yet in the season of incarnation, God in the flesh meeting us in the flesh. God came to be with us in the flesh not to relieve us of the mess and the muck of this life, but in the flesh God stands by our side, takes our hand, sometimes even carries us, and loves us. And that kind of love changes us, we can't help but be changed. God in the flesh reminds us in our flesh that we don't need to be perfect because we are perfectly loved. We don't need to consume and acquire to possess worth; we are enough just the way we are created. God in the flesh reminds us in our flesh that we don't need to gain attention to earn God's love, God has already loved us into ourselves. 

Incarnation is a mystery, and yet it is not so hard. Incarnation, God in the flesh, is about love in a very real sense, it is about God’s commitment to you and to me to walk this journey with us, and it is about our commitment to love. Christmas is not about the presents; it is about God’s presence with us, and your presence with those whose path you cross.

Incarnation is about showing up, and showing forth the light that covers all darkness, and the love that wins. 

Love is born into human flesh. We are at the beginning, and we are at the end. And here in the middle, is where love turns us around, turns our world around. Here is our commitment to love as we have been loved.

I leave you with a poem today. Because Madeleine L’engle can always say it better than me. Madeleine L’Engle, First Coming, from A Cry Like a Bell, 1987, before we became concerned with pronouns.

He did not wait till the world was ready,
till men and nations were at peace.
He came when the Heavens were unsteady,
and prisoners cried out for release.

He did not wait for the perfect time.
He came when the need was deep and great.
He dined with sinners in all their grime,
turned water into wine.

He did not wait till hearts were pure.
In joy he came to a tarnished world of sin and doubt.
To a world like ours, of anguished shame
he came, and his Light would not go out.

He came to a world which did not mesh,
to heal its tangles, shield its scorn.
In the mystery of the Word made Flesh
the Maker of the stars was born.

We cannot wait till the world is sane
to raise our songs with joyful voice,
for to share our grief, to touch our pain,
He came with Love: Rejoice! Rejoice!

Amen.

Christmas Blessing

May the joy of the angels,

the eagerness of the shepherds,

the perseverance of the wise men,

the obedience of Joseph and Mary,

and the peace of the Christ child

be yours this Christmas;

And the blessing of God,

Creator, Redeemer, Spirit 

be with you today and always,

Amen.

 

3 Advent Yr B December 17 2023

 

3 Advent Yr B December 17 2023

Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11, 1 Thessalonians 5:16-24, John 1:6-8,19-28, Canticle 15

The light shines in the darkness. The Word becomes flesh. These are all ways the gospel writer John shows us who Jesus is, and what that means to us, the followers of Jesus. The gospel writer John, through the baptizer John, points us to Jesus, the light, God in the flesh.

John, the gospel writer, points us to Jesus, the light, God in the flesh, not as a nice idea, but as the real thing. John, the gospel writer, points us to John who is not a Baptist, but a witness, who gives testimony to the coming of the Word in the world. John is not I AM, and John points us to who is I AM.

We really live in Advent time most of the time. Advent is a time in between. It is liminal. It is waiting, and preparing, and anticipating. Most of our lives are spent waiting for the next thing, waiting in excitement or waiting in dread. Our son says that’s what the military is all about, hurry up and wait. We look back at our lives sometimes with regret for mistakes made and perfection not achieved. Often we look back with joy in memories of those we have loved and who have loved us. We look forward with longing to what we wish may be. And Advent calls us to presence. Advent calls us to live in this liminal time with purpose, with intention. In this Advent time, we wait, but in our waiting we don’t do nothing. Advent is being fully present to what it is God births in us. In Advent we pay attention to the now of not knowing, instead of the nostalgia of what was, and the wish of what may be. And at the very same time, we are enveloped by the stories that have informed us our whole lives, the stories that call us to justice, mercy, and love. The stories that teach us who we are.

Today we find ourselves at this third Sunday of Advent, with John who points us to Jesus, the Light of the world, God in the flesh, continuing in our wait, our preparation, our anticipation. What is it that John who does not baptize Jesus, point us to? What does John the gospel writer want to show us?

This third week of Advent, we, like John the Baptist, are called to know who we are, we are God’s beloveds, and to witness to the light so that all may believe and like John the Baptist, to witness to this light that continues to brighten the darkness. John is not the light, but points to the light, in our society today, that is rare and refreshing. John has zero-interest in making this about himself. We are so used to this character John the Baptist, that I think we don’t feel the extent to which he puts himself aside for Jesus. John has his own posse, his own band of followers. And here comes this upstart Jesus, preaching a new way. 

John stands as a model and example of what life lived in response to God’s call looks like. And what does that look like? You are God’s beloved, you are enough, you are what God made you to be. So many could be disappointed and frustrated with John not taking power and opposing Jesus. John is very clear in himself that he is the voice in the wilderness, the one that points to Jesus, but is not the long expected Messiah. 

As we consider John as a model and example of what life lived in response to God’s call looks like, we must also consider Mary, whose Magnificat we read together. This song of Mary is the oldest Advent hymn. It is also the most passionate, the wildest, and one might almost say the most revolutionary Advent hymn that has ever been sung. This is not the gentle, tender, dreamy Mary as we often see her portrayed in paintings. The Mary who is speaking here is passionate, carried away, proud, enthusiastic. There is none of the sweet, wistful, or even playful tone of many of our Christmas carols, but instead a hard, strong, relentless hymn about the toppling of the thrones and the humiliation of the lords of this world, about the power of God and the powerlessness of humankind. This is the sound of the prophetic women of the Old Testament—Deborah, Judith, Miriam—coming to life in the mouth of Mary. Mary, who was seized by the power of the Holy Spirit, and who speaks, by the power of this same Spirit, about God’s coming into the world, about the Advent of Jesus Christ. Like John, Mary puts aside her own self interest for this glorious impossible. 

She, of course, knows better than anyone else what it means to wait for Christ’s coming. Her waiting is different from that of any other human being. She expects Jesus. As his mother, Jesus is closer to her than to anyone else. She knows the secret of his coming, she knows about the Spirit, who has a part in it, about the Almighty God, who has performed this impossibility. In her own body she is experiencing the wonderful ways of God with humankind: that God does not arrange matters to suit our opinions and views, does not follow the path that humans would like to prescribe. God’s path is free and original beyond all our ability to understand or to prove.

All we can do is trust that Mary knows. She knows that this is a glorious impossibility, and she knows that she is not equal to the task, but with God’s help, with her cousin Elizabeth’s help, with her community’s help, she can be the God-bearer. She knows that this is not reasonable, but that Jesus did not come for reason, but for love. 

So with Mary and with John, who do we point to in Advent waiting?  I hope we point to the one who is Love. The  Love that breaks in, the Love that  bursts through. The Love that shows up. We are here, we are waiting, ever patiently, ever watchfully. And love is born. The Divine Love Story begins again. God so loves the world, that God breaks into our world to be with us. Emmanuel, God with us. 

I am and we are God’s beloveds, and part of our call is to set ourselves aside and point to Jesus. Advent, and preparation for Christmas, has often been a time of stress, a time of expectation that cannot be met. But this time, we have the opportunity to name it all, and do it quite differently. Rather than hiding sadness and grief and loss from the world and from our friends, the gift is that we are all in it together. Rather than working ourselves into a frenetic ball of nerves about not getting it all done, we let go of our perceptions of control and affirm our call as god-bearers, and like Mary we receive the gift of new birth. And as those of you who have given birth know, it’s scary and joyful all at the same time. And with Mary and John at our side, we claim our voice to call out God is here.

Twenty-fifth Pentecost Yr A Proper 28 Nov 19 2023

Twenty-fifth Pentecost Yr A Proper 28 Nov 19 2023

Judges 4:1-7, Psalm 123, 1 Thessalonians 5:1-11, Matthew 25:14-30

Here we have another terribly troubling parable from Matthew. This parable is the second of three in this section of Matthew. Last week we heard the parable of the ten bridesmaids, and the last of the three is the parable of the sheep and goats. The three parables are related; they show us about living life ready and awake even in the complexity of life. 

The kingdom of God is like a man who was leaving on a journey. Upon leaving, he handed everything over to his servants according to their ability. After the man left, the servants did as they pleased with what they were given. The first two took what was given them, immediately went to work with it, and when the man returned, gave an accounting. Each of them had increased the original capital. The third man was a different sort of man. In contrast to the other two, he hid the money that had been entrusted to him. Now, this was a common way of hiding things. With no bank, no secure place to leave valuable things when going away, burying it was an accepted way to keep it secure. So the important thing for this man was that the money was safe and secure and that he could produce it when the time came. Keeping it in this way meant that there was no possibility of loss, but is also meant there was no possibility of gain.

Matthew makes a point to let us know that this master was a very rich man, and these amounts are huge, each talent may be worth about twenty years wages. And Matthew points us to a master who encourages his servants to use whatever they have been given for good, and to use it faithfully. The third servant was afraid, and did not use what he had been given for any purpose at all. The result of this fear was being consigned to the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.

So let's imagine today that in this parable the master is God who loves creation, who loves humanity. This is God in our midst, God who loves creation so very much that God is willing and wanting and yearning to be in relationship with God's people. God whose love is so deep and so wide and so broad. God who walks through this life with us, each one of us and all of us. In this kingdom God is like a man who was leaving on a trip. He handed everything over to his servants according to their ability, and then he left on his journey. It sounds to me like this is a relationship of trust and of grace. The man entrusts all he has to his servants. No instructions, no lists of what to do and what not to do, nothing. And yet this abundance doesn't belong to the servants. This abundance was not assigned to the servants based on who deserved what and how much, it was given over in trust. This abundance is not even dependent on anyone’s ability today, tomorrow, or any other day to do exactly the right thing with it.

It seems to me that the kingdom of God is this way. God leaves us with and trusts us with the entirety of creation. So much more than we can even see and experience. God entrusts us with the sea and the sky, with the animals and the vegetables. God entrusts us with all that is valuable, and God entrusts us with one another. And God lets go of the outcome, God does not control what we do with any of it. We can do what we want. That is what is at the very center of this relationship. God creates us and all of what is seen and unseen, God declares it good, and God loves us. God trusts us, what are we to do? 

This is the same God who loves us so very much and is willing to live and die as one of us to show us the very best way this life may be lived. Imagine a God who is the creator of all that is seen and unseen, and to whom each and every one of us matters. Imagine a God whose heart’s desire is to be in relationship with us. Imagine a God to whom justice matters, the kind of justice that includes everyone having enough to eat, everyone staying warm when it is cold, everyone being able to feed their families. 

We are to respond to this abundant and amazing grace with all of our heart and our soul and our strength. It's not about our trustworthiness, it's about God's trust and love and grace. It's not about our ability or inability to use the gift properly, it's about God's trust and love and grace. It's not about what we deserve or don't deserve, it's about God's trust and love and grace. It's not about our fearfulness, but it is about fearlessly being about God's business of love, and healing.

These stories about the kingdom are not about being safe and secure. This story, and the ones around it, are about being ready, awake and alive, not to be afraid.

You see, when it comes to serving Christ, when it comes to following Jesus, we can be bold and not be afraid of risks. Not so much concerned about securing our own lives but getting on with lives of self-abandon and witness, knowing that the grace of God in Jesus will more than compensate for any mistakes we may make. Instead, we behave more like the servant who hid his talent in the ground. It’s not a bad thing to do, but it isn’t living ready, awake, and alive, it is more like being afraid.

In these days it is so hard not to be afraid. These days I feel that there’s a darkness that hangs over us. A darkness that holds in its snare’s liars and bullies. A darkness made up of quips and snips. A darkness that covers rudeness. A darkness that feeds racism and misogyny. But you and I know the remedy to that. Hate and fear will not dispel the darkness, only love can do that. 

We can choose in small ways and in large ways how God's amazing gift is made available by our lives and by our love. Choose love. Choose to be a steward of all of God's gifts. Choose not only to care for creation and all you have been given but do something great with it. Don't bury it out of fear, but share it knowing that it was never yours in the first place. Choose to be a part of relationships that do what Jesus asks us to do, feed those who are hungry, love your neighbor. Share your hearts and your lives and your treasure, not because of what you will get, but because of what you have been given. Love. 

Twenty-forth Sunday after Pentecost Yr A Proper 27 Nov 12 2023 (Third Sunday before Advent)

Rev. Dr. Kathy Monson Lutes at Sts. Luke and James, Minneapolis MN

Twenty-forth Sunday after Pentecost Yr A Proper 27 Nov 12 2023 (Third Sunday before Advent)

Joshua 24:1-3a, 14-25, Psalm 78:1-7,1 Thessalonians 4:13-18, Matthew 25:1-13

Last Sunday, the Feast of All Saints and All Souls, we gathered in the midst of so much memory and joy, we remembered those who walked this journey before us, and we baptized those new humans who are just beginning this journey, and we recommitted ourselves to following Jesus. We are surrounded by the cloud of witnesses. The baptismal promises we make for ourselves and on behalf of those new to the journey with Jesus, call us to bear a light, into what can be a dark world, a light  that illuminates justice and mercy, respect and dignity, love for our neighbor.  And as we wonder what that looks like for each of us and for our community of faith, we are confronted by this parable in Matthew, one in a series of really hard stories contained in this gospel.

As I thought about this story, this parable, I wondered about this wedding. Weddings then were not what we think of weddings now. Today, one person asks the other to marry, an answer is given, a date set, preparations made, guests invited. There is much planning, anticipation, and expectation. At the appointed time on the appointed day, everyone shows up, the vows are made, and the party begins. Not so much at a wedding such as we have before us. A marriage was a transaction between two property holders, one property holder, the father of the woman, selling said property to the family of a man. The man and the woman, or the bridegroom and the bride, may never have even met prior to the wedding. The deal has to be struck, and the negotiations may be quick, or may be drawn out, with no way to determine the time for the wedding to take place, people came, milled about, and waited until the deed was done. So in our story today, everyone fell asleep while waiting, and as they awoke, some discovered that they had no more oil in their lamps, and went off to get more. In the meantime, the door to the wedding banquet was opened, and those who were there were let in, those who went away to gather more oil, missed out. Keep awake, they were told.

What are we to gather from this? What does it mean to keep awake? What does it mean to be ready? What does Jesus ask of us? Those are the questions I think are at the center of what we hear today. And, since I believe that it is Love at the center of the gospel,  and I don't believe Jesus ever closes a door forever and always on anyone, what can this mean? 

We all have our "bucket list." Travel, and adventure, that list of things to do and accomplish by the time you kick the bucket. Now, granted all that is a lot of fun, but even if this passage from Matthew is about being ready for the end of our lives or being ready for the end of time, I don't think checking items off our list is what Jesus asks of us, or calls us to do, to be ready. 

Getting ready is something I'm really good at. I make lists, I accomplish tasks, I think of more things to do so I make more lists. I plan ahead, my calendar for next year is already getting filled in. I do research so I know what to expect. I already have my winter emergency stuff in the car, my sleeping bag, an extra hat, extra mittens and scarves, if I get caught in a storm, I'm ready. If I were one of those bridesmaids, I'd have enough oil and then some more, just in case. I know that preparation is the key to success.

But, being ready is different than getting ready. Getting ready implies accomplishing things, being ready is much more about staying awake, paying attention, letting go of distractions. And that is what I wonder if this passage is really about. I wonder if this passage is about being fully present to each other, being fully present to creation, being fully present to wonder and surprise and love. I wonder if this passage is about not just waiting for the door to open when the party is beginning, but living completely in the fullness of our humanity, in all of its joy and all of its pain. 

I wonder if this passage may be about bringing your authentic self to Jesus? Maybe staying awake is not being perfect or full, but it is about bringing your most authentic, vulnerable, true self to the door. Jesus wants us to bring all of who we are, warts and vulnerability, hurts and joys, our perfect masks removed, our thick wall of protection torn down, the entrails of our addictions that we think fill us, laid aside. Maybe Jesus wants to open the door wide to who we really are, not who we pretend to be, and not even who we strive to be. Maybe Jesus wants to open the door wide to who we really are, not who we present for inspection. I think sometimes we spend so much time running around filling up our lamps, filling up our time, making our lists and checking them off, we completely miss the really important things of staying awake, like loving and healing; like forgiving; like being marked as Christ's own forever; like reaching out to take Jesus’ hand.

It is that primal person, that naked heart, that vulnerable and authentic self whom Jesus loves, that's who Jesus yearns to throw his arms around and welcome to the party. Your self, ready and waiting, bathed in the love of your creator, just as you are. You, no need for primping or planning, no questions of not being good enough, or not having accomplished enough, or having enough oil in your lamp. Just you, absolutely and abundantly loved. And what a party it will be. Just like at this table, room enough and food enough for everyone. Only better. 

A few of us were able to hear our Presiding Bishop, Michael Curry, over the weekend. It was the first time he was speaking after recovering from surgery this summer. He was as energetic as usual, and reminded us again, that if it isn’t about love, it isn’t about God. And our Bishop Craig Loya, encouraged us to splash in the water, just like we splashed last week in the waters of baptism, and to reach out in love to all those who need a healing, loving word. 

Be ready, love God, love yourself, love others. 

Thanks be to God.