"Risk the Messy Path of Faith" Meetinghouse Church, May 11 2025

Matt. 9:18-26; Mark 8:34

“Risk the Messy Path of Faith” 

Let us pray,

Beloved God, creator of all that is seen and unseen, 

meet us in all our messiness, meet us in our dis-ease and our health,

help us to walk your way, help us to walk your way with one another, 

even when we are unsure of the path. 

Help us to risk doing the next right thing.

What would it be like to not be well for twelve years? Some of you have some experience with this, some of you know those who have chronic illness and have good days and bad days. Some of you are there yourselves. What would it be like to be a woman in Jesus’ time and bleed for twelve years, without relief? She’d spent any money she had on physicians, and she continued to grow worse. I imagine a body exhausted, listless, unable to really get up and do much of anything; and certainly unable to go far from home. What would that be like when you are a woman who must take care of a household, as well as caring for children and most likely for your parents. Would everyone leave you? What would they do with you?

And added to the misery of exhaustion and the inability to really do anything, she is unclean. To preserve the holiness of God’s people, Jews in Palestine avoided contact with lepers, menstruating women, corpses, and Gentiles, among others. Such contact defiled a person for a period lasting from one to seven days, until purification, ritual washing, and enduring a waiting period. So on top of her exhaustion, she was prohibited from participation in festivals, certain meals, and Temple functions.

So what was she doing there? She should not have been there. At the end of her hope, she must have sensed something about this man Jesus and decided to take the messy path of faith. A crowd of people had gathered around him. One of the leaders of the synagogue came to Jesus and asked him to come and see his daughter who had died. This leader was confident that all Jesus had to do was lay his hands on her and she would live. So Jesus went with him. This crowd followed Jesus and pressed in on him. Those kinds of crowds make me jittery. Hot sticky people, oh so very messy, craning their necks, looking for the rock star or the sports star, trying to get a glimpse of the hero. But she had nothing left to lose. All she had was a flicker, a glimmer, of hope. She was at the end of her rope, at the end of her life, at the end of his cloak. She touched it.

You know when your car battery is dead, and you jump it from another car, and it roars back into life? Or when your favorite song comes up on your playlist and you just gotta get up and dance? Or when you can’t get out of bed because you’ve got the worst sinus infection of your life, and you finally get the antibiotics you need and you feel like you can live again? She felt his power surge through her giving her new life. Jesus felt it too. It was as if they were the only two people alive in that crowd -  connected by an umbilical cord of life and power. 

Jesus moved on to the leader's house and pronounced life for the little girl, she is not dead, but sleeping. 

Jesus’ life and power is connected to us too, giving us all we need. Are we willing to risk this messy path, like the woman in our story?

Sometimes, when I am reading the newspaper, listening to the news, or talking with people, I hear hopelessness, faithlessness, despair, in our community, in our country. I hear people wondering what is next. Where or what is the next way people are disrespected, mistreated, and distrusted? What is the next means of exclusion, violence, hatred? Why are we having so much trouble making space in our communities, our lives, our country, for people who are unlike us? Why are we having so much trouble risking this messy path of following Jesus?

I think it may be because of the blood. This woman’s blood flowed out of her, through no fault of her own, making her unacceptable in the neighborhood in which she lived, and, they believed, unacceptable to God, yes, to God. These rules were to keep God’s people holy, and to keep God holy as well, maybe even to keep God from getting messy.

We continue today with boundaries and barriers that keep us apart, outward appearances that are no fault of our own, inward realities that are no fault of our own. But because some are certain there is a particular set of rules one must follow, they are unwilling to risk the uncertainty, or to risk the messy path of love.

But Jesus changed those rules. Jesus said, the commandments now are, love God, love your neighbor, no exceptions. And yet we keep doing it. We keep people away, we put distance between us, we inflict animosity, because they are not like us. It is as if we need to keep ourselves unaffected, clean even, and it is as if we need to keep God in our box of holiness, orderliness, surely not messiness.

But we needn’t worry about God; God can take care of Godself, much better than we can. God is found in all sorts of objectionable places, places where hungry people live, places where unhoused people live, places where boundaries are erected and walls are built. And yet, we see God in those places, in the faces of all of God’s beloveds. We see God in those places, in the faces of the helpers, those who go running toward trouble, those who go running toward violence and sadness. We see God in the faces of those whose color, language, and culture is unlike our own. 

In Jesus’ life, and in Jesus’ journey to the cross, and in Jesus’ love on the cross, Jesus crossed boundaries. Jesus risked the messy path. Jesus heals any who need healing, regardless of their status, regardless of who they are, regardless of who they even believe in. And on that cross, Jesus healed the one who hung next to him, who uttered the words, “remember me, when you come into your kingdom”, and who does the same for us, regardless of our status, our holiness, our orderliness.

Jesus’ life and power is connected to us too, just like that woman who touched his fringe. We are connected to love, we are connected to healing, we are connected to dignity by that same umbilical cord of life and power. We see God in one another, in our hurts, our messiness, our vulnerability. We are connected to each other, Jesus not only reaches out to touch us, Jesus embraces us. 

We follow the one who makes people free, the one who unbinds, the one who heals. We follow Jesus who crosses boundaries, who goes to the margins, who overcomes obstacles in the service of the kingdom of God. Who comes to us in the muck and messiness of our lives. We are the followers who cross boundaries to proclaim the good news to the ends of the earth, and the mission is urgent, it feels more urgent every single moment.

The good news is right here. In the midst of that hot mess of a market square, in the midst of the hot mess of our lives, Jesus brings new life, to make people whole, to heal, to empower, through you, and me.

Just like that woman of so long ago, Jesus’ life and power is connected to us too, The good news is right here. Do you feel it? Can you feel it? “She is not dead, she is alive!” Jesus says the same thing to us. Get up, be a part of the Jesus Movement. Stand up, be counted as one who is connected to Jesus; whose blood courses through our veins, whose body is broken for us. Stand up, be counted as one who is connected to Jesus. Stand up, be counted as one who loves God, loves others, and and shows that love to the world. 

Second Sunday of Easter Yr C April 27 2025 St. Martha and Mary, Eagan

Second Sunday of Easter Yr C April 27 2025 St. Martha and Mary, Eagan

Acts 5:27-32, Revelation 1:4-8, John 20:19-31, Psalm 150

"It is one of the cosmos' most mysterious unsolved cases: dark matter. It is supposedly what holds the universe together. We can't see it, but scientists are pretty sure it's out there." I read that on the Internet, so it must be true. And I also read or heard, can't remember which, that we know about 3% of all there is to know.

We want to know so desperately, don't we? We want certainty, we want proof, we want it all. And yet, in faith as in science, the story we tell really only touches the mystery of the universe every once in a while. Our science and our faith are only as good as the questions we ask. And yet the story we tell, whether it is the story of faith, or the story of science, does a darn good job of pointing us in the right direction, describing the reality in which we live. The story of faith, and the story of science, are not mutually exclusive stories, they are stories that describe different things, and yet, they dance together.

Jesus died, didn't he? The incarnation ended on that cross, that we know. And yet Mary, who stood weeping at the tomb, returns to the disciples and says, “I have seen the Lord.” And we claim that God entered time and space and did something absolutely new, something so amazing that all we can do is sing and dance and shout alleluia! All we can do is try to describe it, try to paint pictures and make music; we can't come close to knowing it. And that amazing thing that God continues to do changes us, transforms us, like Jesus, we are made into something completely new and different.

The doors of the house where the disciples met in fear were locked, and Jesus came and stood among them. Jesus came and stood among them, but until Jesus said, Peace be with you, they did not even recognize him. Well, would you? He was dead, why on earth would Jesus be standing among them. Remember the women who came running back from the tomb? The disciples didn't believe them, they didn't believe even Jesus himself until Jesus said these familiar words, Peace be with you. Only then did the disciples realize this was Jesus in their midst. My grandson’s favorite question, at 2 ½ years old, is how. I think he has the mind of a scientist. That is the question we ask of this story before us, how could this be? 

But we don’t answer that question with science, we answer it with a story. You see, this story about Jesus appearing to the disciples after the crucifixion and resurrection, this story about Jesus coming back to appear to Thomas, who missed it the first time around, serves to try to show us what resurrection looks like. It tries to show us what this amazing thing that God does, looks like.

Imagine yourself there. You are in that room, it is hot and smelly and so close, the doors are locked, the windows are barred. You are so frightened, the same authorities who just killed Jesus are after you. You can't eat, you can't sleep, your stomach is in knots. And then, suddenly, without any warning, this man, whom you do not recognize, shows up in the room. How did that happen? There's no way he could have gotten in, you locked those doors yourself. Everyone is shaking in their sandals. And then he speaks. "Peace be with you." His hands and his feet were torn from the nails driven into them; his side was pierced. You knew it was him when he spoke again of peace, and forgiveness, when he breathed on you and you felt his spirit.

Thomas wasn't there that day, and just like you, couldn't believe it until he saw it. So a week later, when Thomas was there, Jesus showed up again. The hands, the feet, the side. You knew you had to tell this story; you knew that God had done something so amazing you just had to tell everyone.

Here you are, on this day, the Sunday after Easter, your 60th Easter, your 45th Easter, your 20th Easter, your 10th Easter. We gather here, in this place. Our doors are wide open, we hope and pray each time we gather that God will show up, that God will send us people to whom we may introduce God. The reality is that God is here, God is showing up. The question is how do we recognize God? How do we recognize Jesus in our midst? This story we hear today points us to the ways we recognize Jesus in our midst. Peace be with you. Receive the Holy Spirit, forgive the sins of any, blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe. This is the way we recognize Jesus; this is the way we serve Jesus, this is the way we follow Jesus. We listen to those around us, we listen to their stories, we listen to who they are, and when we do, Jesus shows up.

When people tell the story about Thomas, they tend to end with the admonition to believe without seeing. Somehow, believing without seeing gets equated with certainty and faith. But I think one of the mistakes that is made in Christian talk is that belief and certainty become synonymous, they are conflated. Certainty is never a pre-requisite for belief, and certainty is not a product of belief. There is a place for all our doubt and uncertainty, all our questions. Even Thomas shows us that. Certainty actually is not really very important at all. The reality in which we live, and the place I began all of this today, is that reality in which we see and experience very little of the total that is possible in human experience. We place our faith in the story that is true, not in the certainty of being right. We place our faith in the story of life, joy, pain, suffering, death, and resurrection, and the God who walks with us in the midst of it all. The God who collects all of humanity's pain, fear, and hate, and takes it into Godself through love. That is not about certainty, but it is about love.

We practice love and God shows up. That is what this life and this faith is all about. We practice peace and Jesus shows up. That is what serving others is all about. We practice silence and the spirit shows up. That is what prayer is all about. Open the doors, let all who would enter come in. It is Love that wins. Amen.

Maundy Thursday April 17 2025, Meetinghouse, John 13

Artwork by Jon McNaughton

Maundy Thursday April 17 2025, Meetinghouse, John 13

We enter John’s gospel tonight. John points us to the intimacy of Jesus’ relationship with us, God’s beloveds, Jesus followers by using words like dwell, abide, remain. These are words that help us to not just understand this intimate relationship, but also to feel this relationship. You abide with Jesus, like a hen protecting her chicks, you abide with Jesus like the grapes on a vine, you abide with Jesus like the disciple who rests his head on Jesus shoulder during the last supper you share together. Imagine this relationship as you place yourself in the story before us.

The story we have before us on this most holy night, takes place in a gathering of Jesus followers, Jesus’ disciples, Jesus’ beloveds. They are all there. Imagine having been at this particular meal. Hordes of people are arriving in Jerusalem for the Passover festival. The actual Passover meal takes place two days hence. Our celebration this night conflates the Passover meal with this particular meal that John writes about. Indeed, it is the last supper that Jesus and his friends will have together. 

Jerusalem is crowded, and everyone is clamoring for a place to eat the meal. You, being a friend of Jesus, are in this room, with these people, reclining at this table. Bartholomew, James, Andrew, Judas, Peter, John, Mary, Thomas, the other James, Joanna, Philip, Matthew, Susanna, Thaddeus, Simon, and all the other men and women and children who were gathered that night. The meal is spread before you, the unleavened bread, the roasted lamb, and the bitter herbs. The hour has finally come, the hour that was introduced to us at the wedding at Cana. 

One of Jesus disciples—the one whom Jesus loved—was reclining next to him.  Actually, they were all reclining. Unfortunately, DaVinci’s portrayal of the Last Supper does not give us the picture of how this really looked. All who were gathered for this last meal, though they didn’t yet know it was, were reclining, on pillows and cushions. The beloved disciple was reclining next to Jesus, with his head on Jesus’ breast. 

I want you to put yourself in the place of the beloved disciple, reclining next to Jesus, maybe even laying your head on Jesus. Can you feel that love? That intimacy? In that moment everything was all right. Can you imagine yourself as that beloved disciple? You are! 

Everyone is together, sharing a meal. And in the middle of the meal, Jesus gets up, he takes off his robe and ties a towel around himself, and washes their feet, an incredibly intimate gesture that demonstrates Jesus’ ultimate love. And in this context, the foot washing comes from love, the love that Jesus has for his own. Jesus loved them to the end. This is an act of love and of compassion. 

The foot washing actually takes center stage in John’s gospel. It is Jesus’ final act before his arrest. 

And yet, included in those gathered for that meal on that night, who are gathered for the foot washing, are Judas, who will betray Jesus, and Peter, who will deny Jesus, and the rest of the disciples who after the crucifixion flee in fear. Humans, all of them. This is the truth in this story. Jesus has been with them for three years, Jesus who is incarnation, God in the flesh, God in human skin. The end of incarnation, Jesus’ death, is front and center in this act of love, this foot washing. This lavish loving on the disciples who are also fully human, fully a hot mess, fully dysfunctional, fully alive, fully flawed, fully who they are.

Who are we on this night? Are we the one who betrays Jesus, the one who walks out of the room where it happened? The one who breaks the relationship with Jesus? Are we the one who denies Jesus? Are we the one who reclines on Jesus? Where will we be at the end of this, will we stay in the relationship or not, this difficult relationship. 

The foot washing is framed by the last meal. This last meal in which Jesus gives us the words that make real Jesus’ love for us. 

Sometimes life's events feel so big, and wide, and broad, and overwhelming. The pain and the joy of life bring us soaring to the mountaintops and to the depths of despair. And much of life is lived somewhere in between, in the mundane sacramental moments of making dinner for those we love, or driving our children to dance and music class, or doing our taxes, or taking a bath, washing feet or dreaming dreams. It is in the ordinary that Jesus shows us the sacred. In the muck and mess that is washed from our feet.

In the ordinary meal, our cracks are filled, our fissures healed, we are made whole. In the mundane washing, we overflow with mercy and compassion. Jesus seeps into our very being, washes us, feeds us, heals us. Jesus shows us who God is, and Jesus teaches us who we are, and then we may show that love to others.

Let me wash your feet, take this bread, and you will be healed. Jesus offers love, and forgiveness, healing and compassion. And Jesus shows us how to do what we are called to do.

On this night, the night Jesus is handed over to be tortured, betrayed by his friend, Love really does win. 

The violence perpetrated on Jesus is hard to hear, hard to watch, because you and I are implicated in it. We have not been perfect. We have judged, we have bullied, we have missed the mark. We have offered ridicule when mercy was called for. We have fallen asleep when we should have paid attention. But, we are loved perfectly. Love still wins. 

The gift we are given this night, mercy and compassion, foot washing and food, washes over us, nourishes us, puts us back together. We are re-membered. Come and receive the gift. Come, and remember who you are. Jesus, is here, in our midst, walking with us. Come, be filled with the love that gives everything and takes nothing. And you will know what love looks like. 

 

3 Lent March 23 2025 Meetinghouse, Mark 10:35-52

3 Lent March 23 2025 Meetinghouse, Mark 10:35-52

Rev. Dr. Kathy Monson Lutes

Help us lord to hear your words of mercy and healing, compassion and grace, and 

Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart

   be acceptable to you,

   O Lord, my rock and my redeemer.

Teacher, we have something we want you to do for us, James and John ask Jesus. And Jesus responds, “What is it you want me to do for you?” Arrange it, they say, so that we will be awarded the highest places of honor in your glory - one of us at your right, the other at your left. James and John ask Jesus for something Jesus has shown no desire to give, placing some above others. Or giving some more or better attention. 

James and John are not ill-informed or ignorant. They’ve witnessed Jesus’ miracles and listened to his teachings. James and John are doing what humans do so well, hoping and praying that the world has not and will not change as much as it already has and as much as they know it will. The society in which they lived was built on a structure in which those who had much got more, and those who were like fisherpeople 

scraped for whatever they could get. They really did understand the world as a limited quantity, like that pie, if you get a bigger piece, I get a much smaller piece. And James and John wondered if what Jesus was saying about how the kingdom of God worked, not a pie, but overflowing love, more than enough for all, really was true.

 

This misunderstanding follows the third time in Mark’s story that Jesus tells the disciples the Son of Man will be handed over to the chief priests and the scribes and will be condemned to death. The disciples, even though this is the third time they’ve heard Jesus say this, find this news astounding, alarming, and frightening. And equally as astounding, I think it causes James and John especially, and the others as well, to be confused about their own calling, their own part in this story, and confusion about who Jesus is. James and John seem to think this is about seating order at a party, not life in God's kingdom. They don’t seem to remember that Jesus has just taught them about laying down their life, or about what greatness looks like, or the words about being last of all and servant of all. And so Jesus has to tell them again. Jesus says, this is hard, are you willing to accept that? Are you willing to drink the cup I will drink? Are you willing to be in this all the way to the end? Are you willing to participate in this earth shaking change? Are you willing to receive my love, my gift, for your freedom? You see, Jesus’ love for us, God’s beloveds, washes over all of us no matter what.

 

For James and John and the other disciples, and for us, there is no going back to life before they met Jesus. For us, there is no going back to life before the realities of hurt and dismemberment in this church and in the world. In our civic lives, there is no going back to any good old days. 

But we try. And we have been trying. Hoping and praying that everything will just get back to normal.  We are more like James and John than we care to admit. We fall back on what we know—what’s comfortable; how the world always worked. The “used to be’s”. For James and John, that meant glory as hierarchy and power as prestige. For the 21st-century church and world, it’s no different, with a bushel of denial of the truth 

and a doubling down on a kind of privilege our culture never should have exercised in the first place.

 

But the world changed for James and John. Jesus went to the cross. The world has changed for us. What once was, is not working anymore. What is happening now, is not working either. We know that. Deep in our hearts and souls. What we do know, is that Jesus’ love for us, God’s beloveds, washes over all of us no matter what.

 

And we are a lot like James and John. I imagine Jesus saying to James and John, since when did you think this was about you? Since when did you think this is about your power, your prestige, your privilege? You see, it’s about Jesus’ love for us, and we are God’s beloveds. It’s about Jesus’ call to us to love our neighbor. Sometimes I think we have lost our way. We get frightened and confused about our calling as citizens of God’s kingdom, and we forget who Jesus is.

 

Jesus’ love for us, God’s beloveds, washes over all of us no matter what. The call that James and John seem to be missing is right there in front of them, and is really good news, whoever wants to be great must become a servant. In the household of God, 

no one can claim privilege of place; we are all adopted children by our baptism. Jesus asks James and John if they are willing to dive into the water with him. "The cup that I drink you will drink; and with the baptism with which I am baptized, you will be baptized." 

Jesus’ journey in the gospel of Mark began in the waters of the Jordan, in baptism, and that journey will be to the cross and resurrection. The grace in this story is that Jesus is the one who comes and shows the way of love, Jesus shows the way of vulnerability all the way to the cross. You see, speaking and acting in terms of who deserves what, who deserves health care or housing or hospitality, who deserves eternal life, who deserves to be on Jesus’ right hand, misses the point that all are worthy in God’s kingdom. The grace in this story is that Jesus, with his very life, death, and resurrection, puts himself in our place, in your place, and in my place, and says, every one of you is worth my love.

 

Jesus’ love for us, God’s beloveds, washes over all of us no matter what.

 

You are God’s beloved. You are baptized into Jesus' life, suffering, death, and resurrection. 

Taking Jesus' cup is about diving into the waters of our own baptism, waters that bring the dead to life, waters that fill an empty soul, waters that give a heart the only thing worth living, and worth dying for. We get completely wet in these holy waters. There is grace in diving into the waters of baptism, and receiving the unconditioned, undeserved, underrated love that is God’s love. When we take the cup that Jesus drinks, 

when we are washed with the waters of baptism, we, God’s beloveds, are called to respond to Jesus’ love, with love. We are called not to the seat of power, but to the posture of service. And our lives are made new, our lives are transformed, our lives become the wave of change. The wave of change, the wave of love, the wave of mercy, the wave of kindness.

 

The world has changed forever, there is no going back to life as it may have been, as it once was. But remember that when the heavens were ripped apart, the Spirit was let loose into the world, descending from firmament’s fissure and into Jesus.

 

It would be that same Spirit who would be present with Jesus in the wilderness, on the cross, and in that cold, dark, and seemingly hopeless tomb.

 

It would be that same Spirit who would stir the hearts of Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Salome to go back to that grave and look death in the eye once again.

 

And it is that same Spirit who is in and among us, with us and beside us, calling us to change our perspective, to see what can be, to trust that the kingdom of God has come near and still is.

 

It is that same Spirit who is inspiring God’s church once again to lead from and preach the gospel we know to be true: our God is here. Believe in the good news.

 

And then we continue with the gospel of Mark in the shadow of Jerusalem, on the way to the cross. We've been on this road for a while now, partners with those in the story who are also on the way. Before the followers of Jesus were called Christians, they were, as we are, people of the way. This story of the blind Bartimaeus is the last story of Jesus’ ministry before the cross, the passion, and resurrection. I think this story of Bartimaeus is in stark contrast to the story about James and John. James and John ask Jesus for power and status, Bartimaeus asks Jesus for healing. God lavishes love on them all, Jesus calls them as followers, and yet each of them must let go of something they’ve been holding on to, to live fully free, fully alive.

 

"What do you want me to do for you?" Jesus asks Bartimaeus, it’s the same question that Jesus asked James and John only a moment ago. But the gulf between the request that James and John make, and the request Bartimaeus makes is cavernous. 

James and John were somewhat confused, they ask Jesus for power, they think the kingdom is about a seating chart at a party. But Bartimaeus, Bartimaeus asks to see. 

Nothing like the power and status, the place at the table that James and John were all about.

 

Imagine Bartimaeus, sitting in the road, probably at the main gate of Jericho, day after day, all day, in the hot sun, begging. Bartimaeus knows who Jesus is, he’s listened to the talk, he calls out to Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me. Let me see.

 

One thing here that is so unlike the James and John story; the request, have mercy on me, heal me. Have mercy on me, Bartimaeus asked, mercy. You know what mercy means? A heart for other people’s troubles. Bartimaeus was asking Jesus to have a heart for his troubles. That’s all, hear me, see me, and if you’ve got it in you, heal me. 

And that’s what Jesus did, Jesus heard him, Jesus saw him, and having a heart for his trouble, Jesus healed Bartimaeus.

 

So once Bartimaeus is healed, what does he do? Bartimaeus’ profession is begging. Once he is healed, his life is changed, he can’t go on begging anymore, so he follows Jesus. Just like the others, he gets up and follows. Bartimaeus exchanges a life of begging, a life of blindness, a life of being on the margins, for this life of following Jesus. And you and I know where that’s going, straight to the cross.

No matter how much we think we have, no matter our wealth, our status, our power; or no matter what we think we don’t have, our lack of health, our lack of wealth, our lack of support, we leave it all behind when we follow Jesus, none of that matters. We get so wrapped up in our own shortcomings, or we spend so much time valuing our worth 

by what others think is important, that we forget that we are God’s beloveds, and we forget to have mercy, a heart for other people’s troubles.

 

Jesus calls us to follow, Jesus calls us to surrender things that poison us, or things that keep us from seeing what is around us, Jesus calls us to be merciful, to have a heart for other people’s troubles. Jesus' call to us, the call to be followers, is to open ourselves up, to surrender the stuff that insulates us from our neighbors, to let Love win.

 

You see, I believe the healing in Bartimaeus’ story is not so much regaining sight, but in being restored to the community. In every one of the healing stories, that is the point. 

Jesus calls people from the margins back into the community. Bartimaeus is called, and healed, and follows Jesus. 

We are called, healed in obvious ways and not so obvious ways, and we follow Jesus. Not in a transactional sense, but in a deepening sense. The journey to the cross is as difficult as it is exhilarating; following Jesus is not for the faint of heart. But the good news is that we are all in this life together. When we are in this life together, the burden of a broken heart and a broken body becomes a bit lighter. Hope is born in and among us, Jesus is born in and among us.

 

And that is where mercy and love grow. Mercy and love and compassion grow out of the broken places. It’s like when you are hiking on the granite rocks of Lake Superior, and in the middle of all that hard rock, there is a fissure, a crack, and out of the crack there grows a tree. The good news is seeing, seeing, the grace, the joy, the wonder, in all that life throws at us. And unlike Bartimaeus and the others, we know the end of the story. We know that resurrection happens. We know that life always wins over death. We know that we are part of resurrection. 

There is hope.

How about you? Now that you have embarked on this journey with Jesus, taken up your cross, even been healed, what do you do?

Let us pray,

Beloved God,

Help us to lay down our desire 

to be at the head of the table; 

help us to invite all of God’s beloveds

to the table. 

Help us to have a heart for people’s troubles,

help us to merciful. 

Help us

reach out to your beloveds, 

those who sit with us in these pews 

and those who are not yet in these pews 

and show forth your love, and mercy, and compassion.

Oh God of grace,

we pray this in your most holy name.

Amen.

 

Last Sunday after the Epiphany Yr C March 2 2025 St. M and M

Last Sunday after the Epiphany Yr C March 2 2025 St. M and M

Exodus 34:29-35, 2 Corinthians 3:12-4:2, Luke 9:28-36, Psalm 99

When I read the story from Exodus, it’s hard to keep the image of Charlton Heston in The Ten Commandments out of my head. When I read the story from Luke of Jesus turning dazzling white with Elijah and Moses appearing at his sides speaking with him, it’s hard to keep the image from Star Wars out of my mind, when at the end Obi Wan Kenobi, the transformed Darth Vader/Anakin Skywalker, and Yoda all appear in some sort of dazzling array of wisdom. There is some dazzling display in this story we call the transfiguration, but if that’s all there is, we miss the point. There is glory indeed, but there’s a whole lot more going on as well.

The newer translation of this story in the New Revised Standard Updated Edition, replaces “they appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure”, with “they appeared in glory and were speaking about his exodus, which he was about to fulfill in Jerusalem.” This seemingly small change in word usage becomes very important as it calls to our minds Moses leading his people from the wilderness to the promised land, from wandering to freedom, from enslavement to liberation. Because that is exactly what God is doing in Jesus, and it terrifies the disciples.

What happened on this mount of transfiguration is that God shows Godself in no uncertain terms in and through Jesus. If Peter, James and John, or you or me, had any doubts about who Jesus is, doubt no longer. Not only is Jesus’ visage changed, Jesus is also clearly accompanied by Moses and Elijah, the two pre-eminent Jewish prophets. Again we are reminded of Moses coming off the mountaintop and the skin of his face shone because he had been talking with God. The story of the transfiguration intentionally calls that story to mind, to show us that Jesus is in the line of these prophets, and to tell us that this is God’s son, we are to listen.

And, this story of transfiguration is bookended by Incarnation, God taking on our skin, in the beginning of the gospel, and by the last supper, later in the gospel. These stories show us what God’s inbreaking kingdom looks like. Luke makes sure we know the glorious event of Jesus’ birth. The angels, and the shepherds announce Jesus’ arrival. The star in the sky even points the way for the wise people. Jesus, God’s son, is now present, pay attention. 

Peter, wonderful Peter, wants to make it all permanent. He wants to build a tent and keep the moment alive. But you see, if we stay in that moment, and we yearn to be there, we miss God now. God reveals Godself in this transfiguration, and Jesus finds us in the ordinary moments. The ordinary stable, the ordinary bread, the ordinary wine. Pay attention, or you’ll miss it. Expect God in the ordinary, expect Jesus in the people you meet, expect the Holy Spirit in the wind and the rain. Expect the still small voice. Each day we are transfigured. Change is a constant presence in our everyday life.

Something extraordinary is happening here, God is breaking into time, and it changes us, it transfigures and transforms us. It may even change the world. It is that extraordinary experience that we must bear witness to. There is no staying on that mountain, Peter and James and John went back down the mountain, utterly changed. We too, accompany them down the mountain, and bear witness to God’s extraordinary shining.

And all of those experiences, the extraordinary and the ordinary, inspire us to respond to the needs of God’s beloved people with renewed energy, confidence, and determination. God’s glory, Jesus’ presence really begins to matter when we pay attention to the times and people where we can really make a difference. Instead of erecting tents on the mountaintop, we can carry that glory of Jesus into the neighborhood, and make a difference in ordinary lives, with ordinary things, food, water, shelter.

The glory that is shone forth in this story of transfiguration is a touchstone. We may return to it, but we can’t control it, and that can be rather disquieting, actually terrifying as reported in this story. We come to worship and sing God’s praises; we come to find stability in an unstable world. We come to hear the story of our faith that has not changed over time. And yet God’s word and our worship are not comfortable, they are not static. God’s word and our worship are growing and changing, becoming the creation that God has intended for it. 

The glory that is shone forth should cause us to be terrified, as in filled with awe - or awful - to go down the mountain and to do what Jesus calls us to do, to pay attention and do what’s right, love your neighbor. The glory that is shone forth in this story of transfiguration pushes us out into the world so that we may get going with God’s mission in this world. God’s mission is not about preserving the status quo; God’s mission is not about sitting in these chairs. God’s mission is not defending the tradition; God’s mission is not doing things the way they’ve always been done. God’s mission is not putting Moses, Elijah, and Jesus in a box or under a tent. God’s mission is of healing and reconciliation. God’s mission is about putting fractured souls back together in this broken and fragmented world. God’s mission is about loving and serving your neighbor, especially when we don’t feel like it, especially when it is uncomfortable, even when it seems impossible and down right scary.

Where are the places in your life where you must advocate for the least, and the lost, and the lowly? Where are the places in your life where you must care for your neighbor as yourself? Where are the places in your life where you must preach God’s word of equity and justice? 

Because the glory that is shone forth in this story of transfiguration promises to accompany us into our ordinary lives. We carry that glory into our work and our school and our play, it becomes the spirit that inspires and creates us, it becomes the life that gives us life. It is that which is in the eyes and souls of those whose paths we cross. It is in the respect and dignity with which we treat everyone we meet; everyone God creates. 

Let us pray, that in this bright, shining moment, we may be those who bring change into places and spaces we live. Amen 

February 23, 2025, Meetinghouse Church, God’s Amazing Grace, Jonah 3:1-10, Luke 15:11-24

February 23, 2025, Meetinghouse Church, Rev. Dr. Kathy Monson Lutes

God’s Amazing Grace, Jonah 3:1-10, Luke 15:11-24

Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart

    be acceptable to you,

    O Lord, my rock and my redeemer.

What a story Jonah tells us. A storm, a big fish, and as Christian reminded us last week, a city of truly horrible people, all in our bible, our sacred scripture. And we just heard Lisa read, God saw the Ninevites’ efforts to renounce their evil behavior. And God relented, God relented. Well, that sure made Jonah mad. It’s hardly believable, most of us are with Jonah on this one. How could God relent? They were monsters, and monsters have no place in God’s kingdom, right? 

Monsters. We have so much trouble with this. How can God relent, and not punish those who are monsters? We see it all the time in our news delivered to our inboxes. Monsters who we want to see punished for what they’ve done, those who gun down innocent people, those who kidnap and torture, those who put people who are “other” into detainment camps. These are people and regimes to be feared, and they should be punished, never to be granted compassion or mercy. Isn’t that what justice is all about? 

Or the ones who have lived a life of causing misery for others, the ones who have done unspeakable harm to others, the ones who have never said or been sorry in their entire life, they surely do not deserve forgiveness, or mercy. Or how about the one who just disagrees with us? That person who can’t see it your way? 

Again, as Christian reminded us last week, Jonah needs to be reminded who the God of Israel is. We need to be reminded who God is. God doesn’t act like an expected vengeful, punishing God. Instead, this God relents. Again and again the Old Testament witnesses to the fact that God is responsive to God’s creatures. As people change, as history develops, God is responsive to what is happening. God’s will is to save God’s people. God will always act in ways that bring God’s people back to Godself. God’s dream is to bring all creation to Godself, Ninevites, Israel, Jonah, you, me. Even when repentance doesn’t look like what we expect it to look like. This is a story about that God. This is a story about the God of love, the God of wholeness, the God who desires us to be in relationship with God, with creation, with one another. 

This is not a story about vengeance or punishment, but instead, God shows forth God’s amazing love and grace. 

And then, to make love, and mercy, and grace, even more clear, God takes on our skin, God shows up. God walks, laughs, and even dies among us. God breaks through our lives, our experience, the holy stoops into our lives and meets us in our ordinary places. Jesus takes it all to himself, binding us to God's presence in all times and all places. Jesus bears God's life into our world. 

Where does the holy meet you? Around your kitchen table, as you grab one moment for all of you to be together in the midst of your busy and distracted lives. In the hospital room at the birth of a child. Falling in love. A quiet night at home with your beloveds. In the deep grief of the death of one you love. In joy and companionship. The veil between us and the holy is lifted, God takes on our skin, and we, every one of us, monsters included, are part of God’s kindom. 

This incarnation is so important Jesus can’t stop talking about it. Consider a shepherd who leaves his sheep to find the one that is lost, and when that sheep is found, he lays it over his shoulders and rejoices. Or a woman who has lost a coin, she lights a lamp, sweeps the house, and searches carefully until she finds it. And when she does, she calls together her friends and neighbors to rejoice.

Or the  man who has two sons. One of those sons demands his inheritance and runs off with it only to squander it all on debauchery and loose living. This son realizes his folly and returns home. While he is still far off, his father sees him and is filled with compassion. His father orders a party, a celebration, because the son was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found. 

Does not God rejoice with the Ninevites, does not God rejoice with you and me, we have been lost, and we are found. We have so much trouble with this grace. Whether we identify with the older or the younger son, we have trouble accepting the grace freely given. It’s the same for the Ninevites as for us. Grace is not earned, but freely given. Grace is forgiving and nourishing.

We often have trouble accepting the intimacy of love no matter what, from this God who is willing to bring those nasty Ninevites back into Godself, or to run out into the field to welcome us home. But we forget that this is a God who freely chooses us. God continually chooses God’s people even when we have apparently wandered far away.

There is nothing we can do that will keep us from God’s embrace, from God’s love, from God’s grace. And yet, we are so good at keeping our gaze away from all of that. Repent means to turn around, so maybe sin is when we turn away from God, sin is when we set our sights on that which is not God, sin is when we fool ourselves into believing that God does not care. God cares, God loves, God embraces, all we have to do is turn around and let the embrace enfold us.

Have you ever felt like that one who is lost? Have you ever wandered, wondered, if you would ever be found again, scooped up in the arms of anyone who loves you? You may know what that embrace feels like. But maybe not, maybe that return and embrace is yet to come. The one who waits, the shepherd, Jesus, anticipates your return.

The joy of the one who welcomes back the lost, and the celebration that ensues, shows us what the Kingdom of God looks like. It includes the outcasts and sinners, it includes the expanse of time and space. It includes the fellowship we have around our kitchen tables, our communion tables, and our soup kitchen tables. It includes even the one who would rather not be included.

I’m reminded of a movie I watched with my kids, over and over. Hook, with Robin Williams, the kingdom table is piled high with all the wild and wonderful things that can be imagined. And the people sitting at that table, are lost boys, battered, bruised, lost, and found.

God’s kingdom table is populated with all those who have turned from God and returned to God. God’s kingdom table is populated with all those younger children who have been reckless, and all those older children who have been loyal. God’s kingdom table is populated with all those who stand on the margins and look in, and those in the center whose gaze is nearsighted. God’s kingdom table is populated with those who wish to be first, and those who are always last. God’s kingdom table is populated with all of us who are scooped up by the joyful, compassionate one, and ride on those shoulders all the way to the celebration. 

And what’s so very difficult about it is that most of the time we are pointing in the approximate direction, not the opposite direction, but almost the direction of God. We are full of good intentions. You know what this is like, But the reality is that we are human, and we will continue to make mistakes, we will continue to suffer the consequences of our decisions to turn away from God. We will continue to miss the mark. The Good News is that in the midst of our mess, God never gives up on us, God never gives up on us, God takes us back, even when we give up on ourselves, even when we give up on each other.

God’s love is available to all, even those who don’t look like us, act like us, sing like us, pray like us. Our job as followers of Jesus is to go out and be God’s light and life in the world. Our job as followers of Jesus is to proclaim by word and example the Good News of God’s amazing and abundant love. We must carry into the world God’s love and the reality of God’s forgiveness; we must show that no one is ever outside of God’s embrace.

And, we may invite them to the party. We may invite them to this place where we gather together to celebrate God with us, where we are made into God’s body as we pray together, as we hear the word together, as we turn our sights back toward God, as we stand side by side and receive the gift of bread and wine, the gift of life, and are transformed into the people God creates us to be.

I think these stories from the bible that we hear today, and all that Jesus says and does, asks us to consider what kind of party we throw and who is really welcome at the banquet. 

And what kind of people God calls us to be. Not only are we people who are God’s beloveds, we are people who bring our tarnished, messy, forgiven selves into this place of worship.  We are called to welcome all 

Beloved God,

you love us even when we don’t deserve to be loved;

you extend your grace even when we cannot see clearly enough 

to be full of grace ourselves;

you put on our skin so that we may follow you.

Forgive us

when it seems we have done the unforgivable.

Forgive us 

when we look with disdain at those who can’t possibly be forgiven.

Help us

turn our eyes, and our hearts to you.

Help us

reach out to your beloveds, those who sit with us in these pews (seats) 

and those who are not yet in these pews (seats) 

and show forth your love, and mercy, and compassion.

Oh God of grace, 

we pray this in your most holy name.

Amen.