God welcomes the alien and the outcast, Ruth 1:1-22, Jan 12 2025 Meetinghouse Church

God welcomes the alien and the outsider, Ruth 1:1-22, Jan 12 2025 Meetinghouse Church

Rev. Dr. Kathy Monson Lutes

Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable to you, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer.

Sometimes, don’t you wonder, how you muster the effort to get out of bed every morning? Sometimes, the weight of the world feels so heavy. Sometimes, maybe after loss, the loss of a loved one, the loss of a friend, the loss of a job, you wonder how you might go on. Sometimes, you look around and it seems like everyone else has something you don’t. Sometimes, you wonder why even bother. 

We enter the book of Ruth through this door of loss. Naomi and her husband, and their two sons, left their home in Bethlehem and went to live in the foreign country of Moab. They left because there was nothing left in Jerusalem for them. There was a terrific famine, and they, along with everyone else, were starving. So, they went to Moab searching for food and most likely a better life. Naomi's sons married Moabite women, Ruth and Orpah. Naomi’s husband dies and in the midst of all that Ruth’s husband dies, and Orpah’s husband dies. None of these women gets much ink to name their grief. We are left to wonder what that must have been like. Naomi left husbandless in a foreign land, Ruth and Orpah left husbandless after ten years, in their prime, with no children. In Hebrew stories, a woman, like Elizabeth whom we recently visited in the nativity story, who is barren, whose “womb has closed” as they would say, is shamed. Until she is gifted with the pregnancy that brings forth John.

We witness or experience this liminality in one way or another, throughout our lives. We witness or experience this sense of loss, or change, grief, in huge ways, or in small ways. We watch while people seek a new place to plant their families because their own countries are no longer safe to live in - they come hungry and tired, not knowing the language but trying so hard to make a new life. Not unlike Ruth. We witness or experience the tragic loss of a loved one, a husband, a wife, a child, and we are left to navigate the new territory in a whole new way, bereft, trying to make sense and meaning in this new life. Not unlike Ruth. We witness or experience the pain of changing relationships, the death of a partner, a child, a friend, not unlike Ruth. And sometimes, the loss of a relationship, a friendship, a relative, not to death but to difference, it feels a lot like a death. Not unlike Ruth.  

Naomi decides to return to her people in the land of Judah, but insists that her daughters in law stay with their people in Moab and maybe find a husband. Orpah stays with her people and her gods, but Ruth makes a different choice. 

Ruth leaves the land and gods that she knows to go to a foreign place, an alien land, because - of this relationship. Going to Judah with Naomi will make Ruth an alien and an outcast. She will be a Moabite in Judah, that makes her an alien, and she is a woman with no husband, no father, no sons, no brothers - that makes her an outcast. Her mother in law as well. No husbands, no fathers, no sons - alien, outcast, and powerless. Naomi went away full and comes back empty and bitter. No power, no food, in a land alone, not knowing anyone or anything. You may have felt like you have been in that place before. I know I have.

And yet…. This is the amazing part of the beginning of this story of Ruth. In the midst of Naomi’s grief, and her own grief and loss, Ruth, who had every reason to hate this family fiercely, chose the exact opposite. Ruth preferred the warmth of devotion over the chill of alienation. Ruth sees something different - in Naomi, and says I want to follow your God. We hear these words that are so familiar to us, “where you go, I will go; where you lodge, I will lodge; your people shall be my people, and your God my God.”

Ruth shows us promise making and promise keeping - covenant, a word that is used often around here. Ruth shows us hesed, a Hebrew word that is the quality - fierce and determined love - that it takes to stay in a relationship. The foreigner, Ruth, has the fierce and determined love - after all they’ve been through - to stay with her mother in law and worship her mother in law’s God. 

So, what is this story doing in the bible, God doesn’t really show up in this story. A little sneak preview, spoiler alert, when we read ahead, it’s a short story so that’s easy to do, we will see restoration, and new hope, and new life. But we don’t see God doing anything.

But isn’t that the way we often live our ordinary mundane lives? We rarely witness God’s huge displays or mightiness or power, thank God. That’s not how this life goes. But we do witness the small things, the kindness and the gratitude. I heard a story just the other night around a table in the Hearth Room about heeding God’s whisper to call a friend, and how important that call turned out to be. 

I think what’s important in this little story is that it is a glimpse of how God’s people experience God’s welcoming love through our relationships, human love, through our community of faith, in our families, in our communities, in times of grief, in times of tragedy, in times of turmoil, in times of joy and celebration. Even at times when we don’t feel worthy of God’s love. This little story shows us that God welcomes everyone, because God shows forth hesed, fierce and determined love. Love shows up here, God shows up here in the community that supports and prays for one another, especially in hard times. 

And then we can share God’s love with one another, and we are equipped to go out into the world and show those whose paths we cross what God’s fierce and determined love looks like. So, how do we live in such a way that embodies God’s welcoming love, how do we show up in our relationships with love? I’ve got a little list for you. 

First, we actually show up in our relationships. This seems rather obvious, but we have so much trouble really showing up, we are so easily distracted by our screens, by all those things we think we need to do, distracted by our expectations in relationships, distracted by what we wish for rather than what is in front of us. We actually are still in the middle of  celebrating  the season of incarnation, God with us, Emmanuel. God bursts into our lives as a baby to show us how to stoop low and be fully in the moment. There is a transformative nature in showing up when we want to retreat, of listening deeply to each other’s pain even when we fear there are no words. We can and must see each other. Life is precarious, but you are alive. So show up, body and spirit. Show up for the celebrations, and show up for the funerals. Err on the side of presence. Love each other in the hardest moments as well as the best moments. 

Second, we work at sacred connection. Don’t let go of each other! It takes courage to step toward relationships when our strongest instincts tell us to guard ourselves. Love each other, embrace each other, even on the hard days, because with God’s help, we can do hard things.

 

Third, we welcome all. There are no strangers, no aliens, every person is worthy of love and is beloved of God. Look into the eyes of the other and notice God’s beloved in those eyes, even when you struggle to see.

Fourth, we come alive. We stay awake even when the news is not good, we stay awake through the pain of life, knowing that to ignore what is real, is to not live at all.  We listen deeply to the God who welcomes us just as we are, we listen for God’s call to live fully and completely. 

Fifth, we grieve and we carry on, we go on living. The reality is that none of us get out of this life alive. Embracing this reality gives us more clarity around what matters most, when we recognise how profoundly vulnerable we are. There is always pain before there is death and resurrection. Jesus has shown us that. Use the time you have to live with both humility and urgency. Do not be afraid to live, and you will not be afraid to die. 

Sixth, we hold the healers. It's only when we’re willing to engage our whole selves, to embrace our own fears and struggles and admit that we, too, stand on unsteady ground, that we can meet another person in the heart of their pain. And when we don’t embrace our own fears and struggles, our hearts are hardened, and we become incapable of loving ourselves or welcoming others into God’s love.

Seventh, we hold space, the work is not to fix, but to love. 

Eighth, we wonder - curiosity is essential. I’m reminded of the Ted Lasso episode, I'm sure you’ve all seen it, when Ted is challenged to a game of darts by Rupert, the former owner of the football team. As Ted throws his darts on the money, and Rupert clearly is surprised by Ted’s dart throwing ability, Ted says, “you know, Rupert, guys have underestimated me my entire life. And for years, I never understood why. It used to really bother me. But then one day, I was driving my little boy to school and I saw this quote by Walt Whitman, and it was painted on the wall there. It said, "Be curious, not judgmental." I like that.” Be like Ted, be curious, wonder about God’s love for all, and don’t just judge.

Ninth, we write a new story in the hope of resurrection. You see, what is really real, is that when we put our trust in Jesus, we never hope in vain. This is hard, but we can do hard things. This is about listening deeply to one another, this is about not walking away, this is about learning something new about the people you love and care for, and the people with whom you disagree vehemently. 

Tenth, this is your work, to love like Ruth. To love with a fierce and determined love. To write a new story, a story that acknowledges pain and even death, and points toward resurrection and new life. 

Let it be so.

Creator God, lover of all, grant us your wisdom and courage to love fiercely as we rise up into the new life that you promise. Amen

With thanks to Rabbi Sharon Brous, author of the amen effect, Ancient Wisdom to Mend Our Broken Hearts and World

Second Sunday of Christmas Jan 5 2024 St. Martha and Mary Eagan

James Taylor "Home by Another Way"

Second Sunday of Christmas Jan 5 2024 St. Martha and Mary Eagan

Jeremiah 31:7-14, Ephesians 1:3-6,15-19a, Matthew 2:1-12, Psalm 84

A New Year dawns, and with it hope and promise, light and love. Even in the midst of this present darkness, more light has already begun to shine, I can see it and I can feel it. And yet life continues to feel hard, sometimes even scary. The new year has not been absent of violence, we have almost begun to expect it. 

This gospel story, unique to Matthew, is a story with peculiar characters, with wisdom from outside of the mainstream, gentiles, powerful, politically savvy people. And King Herod who looms large as a despot, for whom power, instead of love, wins, and who is afraid of this baby, a threat to his empire. God’s presence in Jesus is going to upend the powers that be, and thwart Herod’s plans. And yet we are reminded of God’s activity – God’s intervention; these wise men from the east were warned in a dream to go home by another way. 

How does this story, the story of God in the flesh, the manifestation of Christ in the world, change things, change us? And how do we make Christ known in the world? You see, there is so much hope, so much promise, so much light, so much love. God bursts into our world, stoops into our lives, and continues to break into our world, and walk with us in the flesh. What does that mean?

The story we have before us today, this story of the wise ones from the east who follow the Light to the child born in a barn, helps us to see the cosmic importance of this birth. This birth happened in a particular place at a particular time in the context of a particular tribe, but the arrival of these wise ones from the east shows us that it wasn't just for a particular people at a particular time in a particular tribe. Matthew's intent in telling this story in this way with these characters is to show us that this birth changes the world, the wise ones from the east know that.

 

God does whatever it takes to reach out to and embrace all people. God announces the birth of the Messiah to shepherds through angels on Christmas, to Magi via a star on Epiphany, and to the political and religious authorities of God’s own people through visitors from the East. From a manger, where a child lies wrapped in bands of cloth, God’s reach, God’s embrace in Jesus, gets bigger and bigger and bigger. Jesus eats with outcasts and sinners. Jesus touches people who are sick and people who live with pain and suffering. Jesus even calls the dead back to life. Ultimately, Jesus draws all people to himself as he is lifted up on the cross. In Jesus, no one is beyond God’s embrace.

 

God’s radical grace is wondrously frightening. The Light that shines in the darkness, the Love that wins is wondrously frightening. That is what this story is about. God comes to us in wondrously surprising ways. Ways we do not expect. Ways which we would never choose for ourselves. We are changed, we are transformed, the world is turned, and we must go home by another way, a different way, the way of Love. 

 

Or not, the alternative, of course, is to join Herod in not seeing God’s ever-expanding embrace, or feel threatened by it, and instead giving way to just plain fear: “When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him”. Herod jealously reached out himself, far enough to violently protect his place and preserve his power.

 

But I would suggest not being like Herod, and instead of living in fear of what is next, what is new, what could happen, we live in God's embrace, we live in God's light, we live in confidence that Love wins. Instead of living in fear of what the future may bring to us, we live in God's abundant and amazing grace. Instead of holding fast to that which someday we will lose, we get on board with God's mission in the world of healing and reconciliation.

 

Taking the way of the wise ones from the east, going home by another way, going home by Jesus' way, surely provides a life of adventure, of risk, of surprise. Jesus leads us in a radical route. It takes us through green pastures, and more dangerous waters, it is a route that is filled with wolves and sheep. This is a route that calls us through transformation to wholeness; it is a route on which the adventure is not about you, but about whom we are together, the people on the adventure with us, and it is about how we are related to God. On this route home we are called to be Light bearers. We are called to be Love bearers. We are called to bring God’s Love to dark corners, to mountaintops, to raging waters.

 

We are called to bring God’s Love to a fragmented society, to a culture that is pulled apart by greed and fear. We are called to bring God’s Love to a world that seems to be moving more toward injustice than away. Remember  Bishop Curry’s book, Love is the Way, in it he writes, “Love is God's way, the moral way, but it's also the only thing that works. It's the rare moment where idealism overlaps with pragmatism. People don't think of Jesus as a strategist, but he was a leader who successfully built what was essentially a radical equal rights movement within a brutal empire.”

 

You see, God’s Love, God’s Power, is the most powerful integrating force in creation. God’s Love moves us from brokenness, from fragmentation, to wholeness, to healing and it is the only way.

 

How do you bring God’s Love and God’s Light into the world, how do you bring God’s wholeness into your work or your school? It is our call to bring God’s transforming love to those who have not yet seen or felt or known that love. It is our call to bear the Love that wins into the world. What glory will you manifest?

And, it is God's dream that we do this together. After all, it was three kings, not just one, who came to see Jesus. We don't go this life on our own, we journey together, we go home by another way, together.

In this season of incarnation, my favorite author, Madeleine L'Engle inspires me, I leave you today with an Epiphany poem.

It is participatory, so follow her words, 

 

Unclench your fists

Hold out you hands.

Take mine.

Let us hold each other.

Thus is God’s Glory Manifest.

 

Amen

First Sunday after Christmas Dec 29 2024 Grace Episcopal Church

First Sunday after Christmas Dec 29 2024 Grace 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. And so John, very intentionally, 
places us at the beginning, Calling to mind the first words of the first book of the Holy Scripture that John had on his heart, From Genesis, in the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth. And so John very intentionally introduces us to one of the themes that for him shapes all of faith, the light that has come into the world.
 
I know sometimes the translation in The Message seems odd, but in this case I really like it, in John 1 we hear, “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.”
 
And as we know, John’s beginning parallels the very first words of our sacred story in Genesis 1. Again, from the Message we hear “God spoke: “Light!” And light appeared. God saw that light was good and separated light from dark. God named the light Day, God named the dark Night. 
It was evening, it was morning—Day One.” 

So it isn’t just seasonal, though at this time of the year we are very conscious of the lack of light,
for John light and dark, life and death are the same thing. The light bursts into the world, God with us, it is wondrous.

I wonder how you imagine this wondrous thing that God does? Creation, incarnation, resurrection. I think many of you know that I have been a swimmer my whole life. So I imagine swimming, maybe you can too. Maybe snorkeling or even SCUBA diving in a beautiful, sun filled ocean. You dive. You dive deep. You dive to the depths of the ocean. It is cold, and dark, and beautiful. You see fish and plants you’ve never seen before, but always through the darkness of that ocean water. You see only what is in front of your face. Your breath is shallow, not deep and complete. Not only are there beautiful fish, but there are fish that look like monsters. You return to the surface. You very slowly return to the sun and warmth and light, because you must having dived so deep. At your return to the surface you see more clearly, breathe more deeply.
 
And you may see the world a little differently, in ways you may not have imagined feeling the warmth of the sunshine all over your body. I think this is what incarnation is like, this is what resurrection is like, this is what new life is like. God dives down deep into our dimly lit lives, 
Like in the depths of the ocean. And Jesus swims around us 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.
 
Incarnation and 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. For John, there is always hope 
that the smallest source of light might create the possibility of love and belief and connection.
 
And for John, darkness represents the lack of relationship and connection. God speaks the Word into this world, Jesus dives into our lives for light, for love, for relationship, for connection. 
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 pointing 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 shines in darkness, and the love that wins. Love is born into human flesh. 

I leave you with a poem today. 
Because Madeleine L’engle can always say it better than me.

God did not wait till the world was ready,
till men and nations were at peace.
God came when the Heavens were unsteady,
and prisoners cried out for release.
God did not wait for the perfect time.
God came when the need was deep and great.
Jesus dined with sinners in all their grime,
turned water into wine.
He did not wait till hearts were pure.
In joy Jesus 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.
Jesus 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,
God came with Love: Rejoice! Rejoice!

Madeleine L’Engle, First Coming, from A Cry Like a Bell

Fourth Sunday of Advent Yr C Dec 22 2024 St. Martha and Mary, Eagan

Fourth Sunday of Advent Yr C Dec 22 2024 St. Martha and Mary, Eagan

Micah 5:2-5a, Hebrews 10:5-10, Luke 1:39-45, (46-55), Canticle 15

When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the baby leapt in her womb. Imagine these two women - Elizabeth, barren and too old to conceive, Mary, unmarried and too young to have a baby - both of these women have been favored by God. Elizabeth exclaims, “This is what the lord has done for me when he looked favorably on me and took away the disgrace I have endured among my people.” Being barren in Elizabeth’s world was shameful. Shame means unworthy, and yet in this story Elizabeth is far from shamed, far from unworthy, she is favored by God. And Elizabeth recognizes Mary also as a favored one. I wondered about what that means, so I did a little digging, and learned that favor here means being seen, being regarded. 

Elizabeth’s and Mary’s stories are woven together, not only are they relatives, they are both favored by God. They are both seen by God, they are both regarded by God. Elizabeth stands up and claims God’s regard for herself, and then proclaims God’s regard for her young cousin Mary. Elizabeth knows the blessedness of Mary because she has experienced it herself. Elizabeth calls Mary “mother of my Lord.” And Elizabeth feels a leap of joy in her womb. These are indeed inconceivable conceptions. 

Being seen, being regarded by God, as both Elizabeth and Mary are, this is no small thing. One of the deepest longings of the human soul is to be seen. You see, this is what is happening in these inconceivable conceptions. God came into Elizabeth’s life when her culture judged her worthless and barren, and God lifted her up among women and she bore John, the preparer of the way. God came into Mary’s life, a young Jewish girl, and told her she would be the mother of God. And yes, Mary did know. God came low, and saw Elizabeth and Mary, regarded Elizabeth and Mary, favored Elizabeth and Mary. God comes into our midst, God comes low. God comes into the mess and the muck of our lives, our stables. God stoops, and looks into our eyes and says, you are worthy, you are favored, you are loved. 

God finds Elizabeth and Mary, in the temple and in the farmyard, around the family table, and God sees them. God sees Mary, young Mary, of no means, and God risks everything, and enters creation in the same way you and I did, as a baby. Before God fed us with bread and wine, body and blood, God was fed by a mother who was exhausted and unsure. 

Have you ever asked yourself why you are a follower of Jesus? I have, and this is why. Right here, in this story. God, the creator of all that is - seen and unseen, comes low, and in the vulnerability of a baby, says to Mary, and Elizabeth, and all the women before them and after them, I see you, you are favored. And not just the women, but men too, and all the others in between. God enters the wilderness and lifts up the lowly and scatters the proud. God sees us, God loves us, God favors us. God wants to know us. 

Even when that is so hard to believe. Remember, faith is not reasonable- because it wasn’t for reason, but for love -that Jesus came. 

It is for love that Jesus came, and maybe we can respond like Mary, like Elizabeth. Maybe we can respond with shouts of joy, with dances of gladness. This Good News changes us forever; it changes our world forever. It is as inconceivable and unreasonable that each of us is a God-bearer as it is that Mary is a Christ-bearer. It is inconceivable that God bursts into our world. And yet, all of Advent we wait in active anticipation of the moment that God bursts into our world as a baby, and that God bursts into our world to bring our history; our lives, to fulfillment. 

Mary takes her place among the messengers of God’s kingdom, from Miriam and Hannah to Isaiah and Malichi, all those who were prompted by the spirit of God to call their people to repent and rejoice. Mary’s song calls us to respond in joy and praise. The gospel of Luke is filled with people singing songs of praise. The Benedictus, known as the song of Zechariah, Luke 1:68-79, page 92, Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel. The Nunc Dimittus, the song of Simeon, Luke 2:29-32, p. 93, Lord, you now have set your servant free, the Magnificat, the song of Mary, Luke 1:46-55, p. 91, My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord. And Luke’s gospel ends in the temple with praise, after the ascension, they returned to Jerusalem with great joy; and they were continually in the temple blessing God. The response to joy is praise - and Luke gives us the words to praise. 

Mary has been seen by God. She has been raised a good Jewish girl. She knows her scripture, she knows her place. Saying yes to God puts her in a very awkward, precarious, and dangerous position, others before her have been stoned when found pregnant and unmarried. She is not perfect, but she is perfectly loved. God comes low to inhabit a most vulnerable creation, a baby, born from a woman of no account, in a most humble place, a barn. And Mary responds, my soul proclaims the goodness of the Lord. 

And she also sings about the justice God brings to God’s people with the birth of love. Mary’s song of praise is also Mary’s song of justice. God is born in a barn, to Mary, and to Joseph, who have very little, but who say yes to this love. Mary knows that this life will be filled with heartache that will give birth to God in our midst. God favors Mary, God sees Mary. Saying yes to God makes this life joyful, but not necessarily easy. 

God sees you too, God loves you too. What is your Magnificat? What is your response to God’s magnificent love? I find my Magnificat contained in a Christmas Hymn,

O Holy Night!

The stars are brightly shining

It is the night of the dear Savior's birth!

Long lay the world in sin and error pining

Till he appear'd and the soul felt its worth.

A thrill of hope the weary soul rejoices

For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn!

May you say yes with Mary, may you trust that you have found favor with God and recognize yourself in the reflection of God’s love, may your soul cry out with a joyful shout that the God of your heart is great.

Amen.

Twenty-fifth Sunday after Pentecost, Yr B, Proper 27, Nov 10 2024, St. M and M, Eagan MN

Twenty-fifth Sunday after Pentecost, Yr B, Proper 27, Nov 10 2024, St. M and M, Eagan MN

1 Kings 17:8-16, Psalm 146, Hebrews 9:24-28, Mark 12:38-44

I’ll begin this morning with the great prophet, Gandalf, who says in response to Frodo’s comment, "I wish it need not have happened in my time." Gandalf says, "So do I, and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.” 

(JRR Tolkien, The Hobbit, Book 1, chapter 2)

As we sit in these chairs this morning, as we go about our business and our lives, all we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us. I acknowledge the emotions swirling about post-election. 

Grief, 

rage, 

happiness, 

satisfaction, 

smugness, 

abandonment. 

What will you do with the time you are given?

In this story from Mark, Jesus shows us what to do with the time we are given. Jesus focuses our attention, and begins with this admonition. “Beware of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes, and to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces, and to have the best seats in the synagogues and places of honor at banquets! They devour widows’ houses and for the sake of appearance say long prayers. They will receive the greater condemnation.” And then Jesus points us to the widow, he focuses all our attention on the widow. Jesus notices her, and lifts up her ordinary and humble faithfulness. Jesus calls attention to her generosity and faithfulness.

No matter what is swirling around us, Jesus calls us to generosity and faithfulness. No matter what crumbles and collapses in front of us, Jesus calls us to generosity and faithfulness. No matter who is leading, Jesus calls us to generosity and faithfulness.

Our marching orders remain the same no matter what, like the widow who shows us generosity and faithfulness, we go out into the world bearing witness to God’s love, we bear witness to generosity and faithfulness. St. Francis of Assisi has been quoted wrongly, “Preach the gospel at all times; when necessary, use words.” When actually what St. Francis really said, “It is no use walking anywhere to preach unless our walking is our preaching.” This makes so much more sense to me. Our walking is our preaching. What we say and do must be the Good News. What will you do with the time you are given? What does your walking say to those around you? How does your life embody the Gospel of love, generosity, faithfulness, inclusion, wherever you are walking?

When the earth shakes around us, what does your life say about the God who stoops and pulls you off the floor and says, I am with you? When there are wars and rumors of wars, what does your life say about the God who says you are strong and capable of doing hard things? When you are feeling alone and alien, what does your life say about the God who goes to the ends of the earth to include all creation in God’s body? When you feel like you cannot go on, what does your life say about the God who brings life out of death?

What will you do with the time you are given? 

How will you bear witness to God’s light and God’s love? 

Jesus points us to the widow, Jesus raises her up, Jesus calls attention to her poverty, and to her generosity. She begs these questions. Where will you focus your attention? With whom will you stand? And I can’t answer any of these questions for you. But I don’t need to, you need to. I believe the arc of God’s love answers these questions. Feed the hungry, clothe the naked, visit the imprisoned, love those who are alien. Be an advocate for health and healing, for justice and mercy, for honesty and truth.

None of this is easy, but God doesn’t call us to easy, God calls us to generosity and faithfulness. 

God calls us to be alert and present in the time that is given to us. And there is always something else we must remember. Jesus calls the disciples, ill-equipped as they are, a rag tag bunch of fishermen, women and men who long for something more. Women and men who are just like us, full of pride, full of anger, full of indignation, full of joy, full of ourselves. Jesus has stooped and picked us out of the bottom of the fishy boat, picked us up off the street, picked us up off the bathroom floor, picked us up out of the muck and the mess, and incorporates us into his body. We are made whole in the body of Christ, we are connected to God, to Jesus, to Spirit and to one another. We are not alone. This is our superpower. We live out this life in relationship with God, Jesus, Spirit and one another. We are not alone.

And it is in the middle of all of this where the light burns. No matter who you are or where you stand, 

let your light shine, it joins with all the others whom God loves, and God loves all of creation, to make one incredibly bright light. Together we will shine the light of God’s love. We will show our families, friends, neighbors, and those with whom we radically disagree, what love looks like. 

May we be like this woman in our story who knew no other than generosity and faithfulness.

Make it so. Thanks be to God.

  

“Life is short, my friends,

and we do not have too much time

to gladden the hearts of others.

So be quick to love,

and make haste to be kind.

And the blessing of God Almighty,

who created you in love,

who walks with you in love,

and who will bring you home in love,

be upon you and all whom you love,

this day forth and forever more. Amen.”

Twenty-First Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 24 Yr B Oct 20 2024, Grace Mpls

Twenty-First Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 24 Yr B Oct 20 2024, Grace Mpls

Job 38:1-7, Psalm 104:1-9, 25, 37b, Hebrews 5:1-10, Mark 10:33-45

Teacher, we have something we want you to do for us, James and John ask Jesus. 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. But 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 best, 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. But there is no return for James and John to what once was, to the power structures that used to be, not after Jesus turned the tables, not after the heavens were ripped apart. There is no going back. 

This misunderstanding follows the third time in Mark’s story 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, continue to  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, and 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, “I know 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?” Because, Jesus’ love for us, God’s beloveds, washes over all of us no matter what.

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 in hierarchy and power as prestige. Sounds a little too familiar, doesn’t it?

But the world changed for James and John, and all of Jesus’ followers. Jesus goes to the cross. The world has changed for us. What once was, is not working anymore. We know that. Deep in our hearts and souls. And we’re just beginning to learn how to fix it.

We are so like James and John. If Jesus were anything like me, and thank goodness he’s not, Jesus would say 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, we are God’s beloveds. It’s about Jesus’ call to us to love our neighbor. Like James and John and the others, we get frightened or confused about our calling as citizens of God’s kingdom, and we forget who Jesus is. What we must remember is that Jesus’ love for us, God’s beloveds, washes over all of us no matter what.

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 God’s children, and we are reminded of that in 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’s gospel  began in the waters of the Jordan, in baptism, and that journey goes 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, Jesus shows the way of service,  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, are embedded in Jesus’ life of service. 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, everyone 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 unconditional, 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. 

For the early followers of Jesus, the world has changed forever, there is no going back to life before the storm. 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 the gospel, and to preach with our actions and sometimes our words,  the gospel we know to be true: our God is here. Believe in the good news. Amen. 

14 Pentecost, Yr B, Proper 16, Aug 25 2024, Grace Church, Minneapolis

14 Pentecost, Yr B, Proper 16, Aug 25 2024, Grace Church, Minneapolis

1 Kings 8:[1, 6, 10-11], 22-30, 41-43, Psalm 84, Ephesians 6:10-20, John 6:56-69

 

So we come to our last Sunday reading this sixth chapter of John. Jesus is the bread of life. Jesus is eternal life. And we hear some of Jesus’ disciples say, “This teaching is difficult; who can accept it?”

 

Are we some of those people? Do we ever say, following Jesus is just too hard? Do we ever say, this teaching is difficult; this one I’ll just pretend isn’t there? Some of it is really hard, following Jesus is hard, but we can do hard things. So today let’s take a look at what Jesus asks of us. Let’s take a look at how Jesus empowers us to be followers. And most especially, let’s take a look at how Jesus fills us with food, nourishment, and life, so that we may have new life. Let’s take a look at how Jesus abides in us.

 

And to get there, we need to remember what John asks us to recall. John assumes that we know our bible, and the story of Moses and the Hebrew people wandering in the wilderness for 40 years. They did a bit of whining while they were wandering, wouldn’t we all, and yet they were fed manna. They were sustained in the wilderness, but John is making a point that even that food was not the bread of life, the living bread. The trouble in this text is that people don’t believe Jesus is who he is. The trouble is that people don’t believe Jesus is God in the flesh.

 

It’s important for us to remember that John’s story is told many years after Jesus lived, suffered, died, resurrected, and ascended. John finds it very hard to understand that anyone who has an encounter 

with the story of Jesus would not believe that Jesus is indeed God in the flesh, the incarnate one. John shows us the truth of who Jesus is by showing us the signs that Jesus did, turning water into wine, healing the woman who bled for years, healing the man who was ill for 38 years, feeding 5000 people, healing the man blind from birth, and raising Lazarus from the dead. So the disciples make the statement we are thinking in our heads. This is hard, not only to wrap our minds around, but to open our hearts, and to follow.

 

What makes it so hard? Maybe because we didn’t see it ourselves or hear it ourselves. The trouble in our world is that talk about being faithful rather than successful is all foolishness. You all know this. You all have experienced this. Talking about things not seen makes your sanity suspect. Commitment to gathering in Jesus’ name, prayer and study makes your priorities questionable in some circles. And abiding in Jesus’ real presence in bread and wine, body and blood, is foolish.

 

So this good news is hard because it calls us away from a narrative of rugged individualism into community and interdependence, it calls us to accountability, it calls us to lay down our own desire for power. That’s why the Jewish and Roman authorities of Jesus day tried to trip him up, why tried to snare him. Their power was being threatened. And it is not so different today.

So in this last story of John’s gospel about the bread of life, the living bread, let’s see what may be going on. Remember the word John uses for the deep relationship Jesus has with us, to abide, or dwell. John is very interested in showing Jesus’ followers that is you and me, what incarnation looks like. Incarnation, God stooping to be born in a barn, God coming into this world as one of us, God taking on flesh. Incarnation means God dwells with us, God in our midst, God in the flesh. This relationship between God in the flesh, who is Jesus, and God’s creation, you and me, is cellular, it is so deep and so broad and so wide, it is so intimate, that Jesus’ presence is nourishment, sustenance, life, it is bread for our souls.

 

John uses this verb, abide, throughout the gospel, and it means the mutual indwelling of God, Jesus, and the disciples. Jesus says, “As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love. If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in his Love.” There is a sense of divine presence and companionship, and friendship.

 

Could this also be what is so hard? And maybe even scary. That God, who is creator of all that is, seen and unseen, creator of the cosmos, sees fit to walk this journey of life with us. That Jesus is so very present with us. Really present, present when we are so broken, we have no hope that the bits and pieces could ever be made whole again. Really present, present when our joy is so intense that we feel it throughout our bodies. Really present even in our worries, and in our mistakes that deep down inside we believe cannot be forgiven. Really present when we are filled with bread that is body 

and wine that is blood. Really present, and that presence fills us with fear, fear that is awe.

 

We have lost the sense of awe. Everything is awesome, but what about awe - full? Jesus, really present in the bread and the wine, the body and the blood, fills us with fear, with awe. How can this be? This is really hard, and somewhat scary. Jesus abides in us, Jesus calls us into relationship, Jesus nourishes us. Because when we are filled with Jesus, filled with bread and wine, body and blood, we are changed, we are transformed, and we are deepened, we are made into who God means for us to be. It is this abiding presence that empowers us to let go of and to lay down our burdens, our addictions, our worries, and be made into the new creation of God’s dream. And letting go is hard, giving up power, and the illusion of control is hard, but you can do hard things.

 

God’s dream for us is to be people who love. Because, if it’s not about love, it’s not about God. We are people who follow Jesus, who each day face the realities of our lives, our joys and our sorrows, our anxieties and our loveliness. We are people who get out of bed each day to face ourselves with integrity and honesty, with the heart knowledge that Jesus abides in us. We step out into the world in love. We leave this place filled with the real presence of Jesus. We love, we follow Jesus, because God first loved us.

 

Risen lord, be known to us in the breaking of the bread. 

Lord Jesus, abide in us, as we love one another. 

Amen.

“Life is short, my friends,

and we do not have too much time

to gladden the hearts of others.

So be quick to love,

and make haste to be kind.

And the blessing of God Almighty,

who created you in love,

who walks with you in love,

and who will bring you home in love,

be upon you and all whom you love,

this day forth and forever more. Amen.”