Jonah/Mark 1:14-18, February 9 2025

Jonah/Mark 1:14-18, February 9 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.

Sven and Ole go fishing. It’s such a great day, they rent a boat so they can fish from the middle of the lake. They row out, drop their lines, and before you know it, they're catching fish, one after another after another. They can’t believe what a great fishing spot they found. Sven says, “This is the best fishing spot in the county. It’s just too bad we didn’t bring some paint.” Ole asks, “Paint? Why should you want paint to go fishing?” “Well Ole, don’t you see, so we can paint an “X” in the bottom of the boat, so we can find this spot next time.” Ole laughs at him. “Sven, don’t be so silly! Next time, what if they give us a different boat?”

Fishin’ stories often are about the one that got away, or as Sven and Ole show us, the ones who aren’t all there. The fishin’ stories we have before us today are about the ones who do the fishin’. These are stories about how individuals and communities are transformed and changed by the God who welcomes all, the God who reaches out to even those like the Ninevites - who really have nothing to do with Yahweh, who is the God of the Hebrew people. These are also stories about saying yes to God’s welcoming call, saying yes to God’s embrace, saying yes even when that seems hard or even impossible. Jonah himself is transformed from a reluctant prophet to a messenger of God, and then a whole community that was transformed. In Mark, Simon and his brother Andrew, and James and John, heard Jesus’ call, and were transformed; they left what they were doing and followed Jesus. These stories are about change, and these stories are deeply hopeful, they are all about not being stuck in the old patterns, but about the willingness to respond to God’s call to transformation and change, personally, but more importantly, the whole community of faith. 

Jonah is a reluctant prophet. Going where God tells him to go is the last thing he wants to do. And then, when he finally gives in, he’s all hot and bothered that God saved those evil Ninevites without so much as an I’m sorry or forgive us. The story opens with Jonah fleeing to Tarshish. He hides from God on a ship, and when a mighty storm comes up the crew throws Jonah into the sea to stop it. Jonah didn’t die in the sea because the fish swallowed him. Jonah was delivered from the belly of that fish quite apart from whether Jonah deserved to be delivered. Jonah was delivered from the belly of that fish to bring God’s message of love and forgiveness to the Ninevites, apart from whether they deserved to be delivered. Jonah is the recipient of God’s grace in a way that is no different from what will be the case for Nineveh. 

I wonder what happened In the belly of that fish. I wonder if Jonah remembered who he was, I wonder if he remembered that God was God, I wonder if he remembered his relationship with God, and that’s what saved Jonah. I wonder if Jonah remembered that God’s grace was available to him whether or not he deserved it? 

Remembering who you are in the belly of a fish seems like a fishy story to me, but there is truth somewhere in that experience. 

When have you been in the belly of a fish? 

When have you had an experience that would either kill you or transform you? 

When have you struggled with a decision, struggled with discernment of what you should do? 

When have you had to surrender to guidance from outside yourself?

Have you ever felt like you don’t deserve God’s grace?

Are you there now?

So the people of Nineveh are about their evil ways. God knows that evil ways beget negative consequences. The job of a prophet, even a reluctant one, is to call the people to turn back to God, to turn away from greed, to turn away from idol worship, to repent. That is what God is Jonah to tell the Ninevites, God calls Jonah to tell the people of Nineveh to change. The consequences for the people Nineveh on the path they are on are dire. But they hear God’s call through Jonah to repent, and they believe God and change their ways. A whole city is willing to believe God and be transformed. But Jonah is a whole book about people who -  in Jonah’s judgement -  weren’t supposed to get it. The people of Nineveh - the reluctant prophet Jonah thought - were too awful, they could never change their ways . And yet they got it. The people of Nineveh believed God, and a whole community changed. I think it’s important to hear that through Jonah they believed God, they believed what God had to say through Jonah, and they believed God’s abundant love for them. The people of Nineveh felt their worth, and God’s grace. 

And Jonah is disgruntled. Jonah has so much trouble with this God who would save an entire city that in his judgement was not worthy of being saved. Jonah complains to God because of the leniency granted to those scoundrels living in Nineveh. 

I much more easily identify with Jonah, the reluctant prophet, the one who had to spend some time in the belly of a fish, the one who wasn’t too sure that those people of Nineveh deserve God’s love and attention, the one who wasn’t too sure about God’s love for himself, than I do with Simon and Andrew, and James and John, to whom Jesus said, follow me, and immediately they left their nets and their kin and followed Jesus. I wonder if fishing was really that bad, or if maybe they had heard about this Jesus, who Mark tells us in the first line of his story, is the Son of God. I wonder if they, like the people of Nineveh, believed God, and like the Ninevites, knew that they were God’s beloved. 

Earlier in Mark’s story, Jesus is baptized in the Jordan. And just as Jesus was coming up out of the water, the heavens were torn apart, and the Spirit descended like a dove on him, and a voice came from heaven, You are my Son, the Beloved, with you I am well pleased. I think this is what Simon and Andrew, James and John knew was true, and because they believed God, because they knew that the truth was in incarnation, the truth was contained in the reality of God with us, God in our midst, they were willing to leave their livelihood and their kin, to follow this One.

And we remember the woman at the well, who on a hot desert day met Jesus and offered him a cup of cool water. In that encounter, in that living water, she knew him, and she was changed forever, rushing away to tell everyone who she met. 

When we meet God we are changed. When we meet God in our midst, God with us, we are no longer the same. This is what the reluctant prophet Jonah was telling the Ninevites, that God changes everything, and Jonah had to be convinced of that reality himself. This is the reality of what Simon and Peter, and James and John did. The story Mark tells is a story that illustrates how Jesus changes everything. That change is described in these stories that show us that everything is turned around, topsy-turvy, the first shall be last and the last shall be first, the social order of the day is changed. Who you are is no longer defined by your family; it is no longer defined by the privilege, or lack of privilege into which you are born. These followers of Jesus left their homes, they left their kin, they were changed in a very real way, whether in the belly of a fish, or while we are fishing. Therein lies the hope. Who we are is defined by God’s abundant love for us and God’s delight in us. Not by what our culture counts as value. You see, in God’s kingdom the meek shall inherit the earth, the last shall be first and the first shall be last, the merciful shall receive mercy, dieing comes before rising, compassion is strength - not weakness. And God welcomes all into this kingdom.

The Ninevites had to learn that, the original followers of Jesus had to learn that, we have to learn that.

Meeting God in our midst changes us in ways that call for a response. Jonah responds, Simon and Andrew, James and John respond. Follow me, Jesus says. What is your response? God is up to something in each of our lives, God is up to something in our community. Follow me, Jesus says. The call is to follow; how do you respond?

The Kingdom of God is not some far off place in a far off time, the kingdom of God is now. It is how our relationship with Jesus changes us and how we respond to that change. And that kingdom looks like radical love, loving those who don’t look like us, loving those who disagree with us. And that kingdom looks like mercy, and compassion. Your kingdom looks like crossing boundaries. And it looks like a church made up of people whose deepest desire is to serve one another, and to serve the least, the lost, and the lonely.

Let us pray,

Creator of the land and sea, snow and fire, fish and fowl;

Help us to hear your voice call us beloved, 

help us follow you into your kingdom, 

where all are loved, all are feed, all are welcome.

Amen. 

The Presentation of Our Lord, February 2 2025,

The Presentation of Our Lord, February 2 2025,
St. Martha and Mary Episcopal Church, Eagan MN
Malachi 3:1-4, Hebrews 2:14-18, Luke 2:22-40, Psalm 84

Forty days ago we celebrated the joyful feast of the birth of Jesus. Today we recall the holy day on which Jesus was presented in the temple.  And an historical note, the traditional liturgy for the day is called Candlemas, because of its ancient rite of blessing of the candles to be used in the church for the next year, a practice dating from the middle of the fifth century. Today we hear that Simeon and Anna, led by the Spirit, recognized Jesus as their Lord, and proclaimed him with joy.  

This story, the Presentation of The Lord in the Temple is similar, and yet not the same, as our baptism of today. You and I recognize Jesus in all sorts of ways as well. We recognize Jesus in baptism, in one another, and in the breaking of the bread. In this story, a Jewish family presents their son in the temple at eight days old, and the child is circumcised, and at the same time, the child is named. This child is Jesus, God in our midst. 

At our sacrament of baptism, a baby is presented, named, gotten all wet, and marked as Christ's own forever. We trust that God shows up in a particular way at baptism, but not once and for all, but to begin the journey with us. When we baptize a baby, we also trust that the community of faith, all of us, takes seriously the promises we make. One of those prayers is especially wonderful, the promise by our prayers and witness we will help this child to grow into the full stature of Christ, as well as the promises that our made on our behalf. 

In our story today we meet Simeon and Anna, very old people who are living the end of their lives at the temple. Separately they understand who this baby Jesus is. Simeon is clear that this child is the light of revelation to the Gentiles, and this child is for glory to Israel. Simeon now can die in peace, because he has seen God in his midst. Simeon blesses Mary and Joseph. Anna also recognized the child as the one everyone was looking for, for the redemption of Jerusalem. 

Simeon and Anna are you and me. Simeon and Anna are the witnesses to God's grace and love in the world. Simeon and Anna are the witnesses to pain and suffering in the world. Simeon and Anna speak to the hope that rises out of suffering and adversity, the hope that breeds courage, the hope that God is fully capable of doing something new, and indeed is doing something new. Each time a baby is presented here, at this font, and at any font in any church, it is a sign of hope, it is a time to recognize Jesus in our midst and the claim Jesus makes on our hearts and souls. The claim Jesus makes on each of us as we promise to raise our children with the story of life and death and resurrection. The claim Jesus makes on each of us to make us new creations. We respond to Jesus' claim on our hearts and souls by promising to be bearers of the light and builders of the Kingdom. We promise to show the world that Love wins. 

Simeon and Anna are you and me. We, like Simeon and Anna, witness God's grace and love in the world, we witness pain and suffering in the world. And we must recognize Jesus in our midst, in our baptism of course, but also in the world. We must recognize Jesus in our midst, we must recognize Jesus in the places in our world where Jesus resides. With those on the margins who are poor, those who need food and clothes, those who are broken and in need of healing. Sometimes those people are here in our midst, and sometimes we are those people. We recognize Jesus among us.  

Jesus is presented in the temple, we present our children for baptism, trusting that God claims our hearts and souls and walks with us, showing us the way through pain and suffering, death and resurrection. We recognize Jesus in the water of baptism, water that gives life and takes life, we recognize Jesus in the light of epiphany, the light that brightens the darkness, the light that will not be put out. We recognize Jesus in the hearts and souls of one another.

And we recognize Jesus in the breaking of the bread. This breaking of bread is central to what we do each time we gather here. We pray, we sing, we confess our sins and receive forgiveness, we break bread, we give thanks and we are sent out to do the work God calls us to do. The epic story of the love that wins tells us that Jesus broke bread with his friends, and in a like fashion his body was broken for us. With our broken bread, in our broken lives, in our broken hearts, Jesus fills and floods us with the bread and wine, and puts us back together, in a way that alone we cannot. Jesus' love re-members us, and we are not just glued together, but we are enveloped in a love that will not let us go. 

It feels particularly hard to be a kingdom builder these days. The chaos of our world is tearing us down, tearing us apart. We see evidence all around us that God’s kingdom and the earthly kingdom in which we live are moving farther and farther apart. 

Jesus is presented in the temple, but doesn’t stay in the temple. Our work is to accompany Jesus into the world, being the light, and the food, of God's mission of healing and wholeness. You see, Jesus and Mary and Joseph did not stay in the safe and comforting confines in the temple. They went out to be on the journey of God's mission in their world. God's mission has always been the same, bringing each and every one of us and all of humanity into the healing love and embrace of God. God's mission is kingdom building, we pray that each time we pray the Lord’s prayer, “your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth, as in heaven.”  And in God's kingdom, all are welcome, no one is excluded. In God's kingdom our broken hearts and bodies are made whole. In God's kingdom everyone has enough to eat, everyone has a warm place to sleep. 

It takes courage to be about the work of kingdom building. Courage to step out into the work that God is already blessing. You, at your baptism, at your presentation to God, were marked as Christ's own forever, you already have all you need to be a kingdom builder, gather your courage and find the places and the spaces where you can be a kingdom builder, the courage to be a kingdom builder.

Who are you? To whom do you belong? Ruth 3:1-12, Mark 1:9-11 Jan 26 2025 Meetinghouse Churc

Who are you? To whom do you belong? Ruth 3:1-12, Mark 1:9-11 Jan 26 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.

From the time I was about 15 until about 10 years ago, as the elders of my family grew old, I attended and actually really enjoyed our Monson family reunion. We would gather at Monson Lake State Park near Sunburg Minnesota, the City Park in Glenwood Minnesota, and eventually on the farm in Murdock Minnesota. These places are all close together with the cemetery in Sunburg being the pilgrimage point. I listened to my aunties and uncles tell the story of my dad’s paternal Norwegian ancestors who came to this country after their home was destroyed in an avalanche, and my dad’s maternal Norwegian ancestors who left because the farming was so awful. I grew to know and love my identity as a descendant of Norwegian immigrants, and I’ve made the trip to both parts of Norway to see the land and the people that make up my DNA. It was an amazing experience to walk on that land and know that that was part of my identity, and I have chosen to let this family story be a part of who I am. 

In those same years, I was raised up in the church, listening to the stories of the beloved people of God, also my people. People who were created in God’s image and called very good. People who turned their backs on God, people who decided to worship the idol of power rather than the God who created them. People who were blessed by God. People who God forgives over and over again. People to whom God came in the flesh and blood of Jesus, to show the way of love, forgiveness, compassion, and mercy.  This is also my identity, one of those whom God loves, in all my messiness, brokenness, in all my belief and unbelief. 

I was baptized as a baby, my parents took seriously their promises to raise me, and my 7 siblings, as a follower of Jesus. They didn’t always know what that meant, and the path wasn’t always clear, they, and I, fell down a lot, and yet, on some level, I always have known that Jesus has claimed my life and that my identity rests in that reality. I am God’s beloved, marked and claimed as God’s own forever. God’s faithfulness engenders my following Jesus, even when I find that hard.

We listened to Jesus’ baptismal story today so that we could again hear the words, “You are my beloved, with you I am well pleased.”  Jesus hears those words as he is baptised, as he is enveloped in the water and raised out of the water to hear the voice of the spirit. We need to hear those words also, all the time, we need to know that you and I are beloved by God, that is our identity. We are beloved in all our brokenness, in all our messiness, with all of our bad decisions. We are beloved even when we want to be in control, and pretend that we are God. We are beloved even when we are addicted, vulnerable, grieving, as well as joyful. Because, we are not perfect, but God loves us perfectly. 

Ruth knows who she is, Ruth is comfortable in her own skin, comfortable in her identity.  In Ruth’s story that we read today, Boaz asks her, “who are you?” This question presents Ruth with the opportunity to name herself. And it is Ruth’s faithfulness, not her ancestry, that becomes a determining factor in the shaping of her identity. Ruth continues to be fierce and faithful, and as we will see, Ruth, who was a stranger in a strange land, becomes the great-grandmother of David. 

Who are you? Where is your identity? What are your family stories around your identity? What part of that story do you choose, what part of that do you discard? 

And what does your life say about who Jesus is? What does the life of this church say about who Jesus is? 

People who follow Jesus are people who belong to God and who belong to one another. Our identity is a beloved child of God, we are marked as Christ's own forever, we are in relationship with our creator and the rest of creation. If you find your identity as God’s beloved, what does a life as a follower of Jesus look like? Jesus answers that question with love. Love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and love your neighbor as yourself. What does this love look like? 

Today I want to remind you of your baptism, many of you were baptised as an infant or child, some of you were baptised as an adult, and I would guess, some of you have never been baptised. Our identity, as followers of Jesus, is wrapped in baptism. I am not suggesting that being baptised is the only way you can follow Jesus; I am saying that in baptism God’s grace is conferred as a lifegiving, holy spirit. And by remembering our baptism, we come close to remembering who God has created us to be, we remember our identity as God’s beloved.

One of the things we do at baptism is to name the child, or to name yourself. Just like Ruth who has the opportunity to name herself. Names are important, and are to be honored. What name were you given at baptism? My baptismal name is Kathleen. As you have grown into yourself, grown into the person God has loved into being, have you thought about changing your name, have you changed your name?

The other really important thing that we do in baptism is to get wet. Water, oil, and fire are the three holy symbols of baptism. Using theological language, we die with Christ in the waters of baptism, so that we may rise to the new life that is made real in Christ. I’ve been rereading Traveling Mercies, by Annie Lamott. Using a bit less theological language, Annie writes, “Christianity is about water: “Everyone that thirsteth, come ye to the waters.” It’s about baptism, for God’s sake. It’s about full immersion, about falling into something elemental and wet. Most of what we do in worldly life is geared toward our staying dry, looking good, not going under. But in baptism, in lakes and rain and tanks and fonts, you agree to do something that’s a little sloppy because at the same time it’s also holy, and absurd. It’s about surrender, giving in to all those things we can’t control; it's a willingness to let go of balance and decorum and get drenched.” p. 231

And isn’t that what a life in Christ is like. Isn’t that what love looks like? It’s very messy, and it looks like getting drenched. It looks like diving in, not having all the answers, just a lot of good questions. It looks like loving your neighbor, even when you’re not quite sure what their politics are, or maybe even disagreeing with their politics. It looks like loving the whiners, the bullies, and the people who think they’re better than you. It looks like sticking up for the innocent. It looks like feeding hungry people. It looks like forgiveness, even when you don’t think you should have to forgive. It looks like making room for the stranger, because we are all strangers in a strange land. Love looks like a community of faith that takes care of one another, even when that is hard. It looks like a community of faith that reaches out into the places and spaces beyond the walls to be the light that shines in the darkness. 

This is who we are, and whose we are. This is what love looks like. This is our identity, our name, God’s beloved. And from this identity, from these waters that drench us, waters that ruin our makeup and hair, waters that remind us who we are, we enter the world. We enter the world imbued with mercy, and compassion, and love. 

And remember, in the rain, turn your head to the sky and say, I am your beloved.

God,

Lover of all your creation,  

Sometimes being your beloved feels very hard. Loving ourselves and loving others feels very hard. Compassion and mercy seem elusive and remote. 

Help us to remember who we are, we are yours, and we are beloved.

Amen.

 

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