Fourth Sunday after Epiphany Yr B Jan 31 2021

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Fourth Sunday after Epiphany Yr B Jan 31 2021

Deuteronomy 18:15-20, 1 Corinthians 8:1-13, Mark 1:21-28, Psalm 111

 

Mark’s gospel begins with the expectation that you already know what this story is about, so there is no preliminaries, not like in Luke, not like Matthew, and definitely not like in John. When we enter Mark’s gospel we are off and running. No time to process any of this. After Jesus’ first words in Mark’s gospel, that we heard last week, Jesus is healing and casting out unclean spirits. Even though Mark doesn’t mince words, we know what is really important. The first thing Jesus does is free this man from the hold of his unclean spirit and restore him to himself, his loved ones, and his community. The very first thing.

 

Mark doesn't mince words. We’re very comfortable with words, the other gospels are full of words. They try to explain the parables, the healings, the miracles. But not Mark. Mark shows us who Jesus is through healings, through presence, through action. In Mark, Jesus teaches by what he does.

 

We know that Mark's gospel begins with “the beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.” Mark immediately goes on to show us what this Son of God looks like. The Son of God is baptized in the Jordan, and a voice comes from heaven and says, “You are my son, the Beloved, with you I am well pleased.” The Son of God is cast out into the wilderness and battles Satan. The Son of God calls Simon and Andrew, James and John, who left everything to follow him. The Son of God was in the habit of going to the synagogue on the Sabbath. He was also in the habit of breaking many of the rules of the Sabbath. The Son of God teaches with authority, and heals with authority. According to Mark, this is what we need to know about the Son of God. 

 

Can you remember the best teachers you ever had? Everett Anderson was one of the best teachers ever. We affectionately called him Ev, probably never in his hearing. Mr. Anderson was of diminutive stature, and powerful presence. He taught, you may guess, English and American Literature. As great teachers do, he invited us into the story, he didn’t tell us what the story was about, but brought it to life in the classroom. We had Elizabethan feasts and we learned history, and story, and truth. And no matter Ev’s physical presence in the classroom, his authority was immense, not because we were frightened of him, or that he held power over us, but because he told the truth, he listened to us lowly students, and he cared. Mr. Anderson was not authoritarian, but authoritative. He exuded knowledge, and care, and compassion. 

 

In this gospel story, Jesus’ authority creates something that no one had ever experienced before Jesus. Jesus’ authority creates healing. It’s hard for us to imagine, because today I think we experience authority as power. Power to tell others what to do, what to believe. Power to buy and consume and have. The scribes, who were the educated and literate people, had never before experienced the kind of authority that is shown to us in Jesus; we only encounter this kind of authority when we encounter Jesus.

 

What does this authority look like? Authority is who Jesus is, it is not something that Jesus possesses, or something that Jesus owns, not even what Jesus says. True authority, authentic authority, is not derived from power but from trust and respect and relationship. True authority does not control, it authors. Authority comes from the same word as author. It is a word that indicates something or someone that creates, something or someone that causes an increase, something or someone that causes growth.

 

This authority is quite different from power. Power, in the Mediterranean world, as well as in our own world, is understood as a limited quantity. If one person has more power, then the other has less. In the Mediterranean world, honor was also a limited quantity. The honoring of one resulted in the shaming of another. Power and honor are linked in the Mediterranean world of Jesus’ time, and whether or not we are fully aware of it, that’s how power and honor operate in our culture as well, or at least that’s the perception.

 

What the scribes noticed immediately in this story is that Jesus speaks with an as-yet-unheard-of level of authority. Suddenly the years of compounded knowledge, confined logic and entrenched tradition offered by the scribes begins to pale in comparison to the message that Jesus brings, Love. When Jesus was around, something was created, something was increased, growth was happening, the story was being rewritten. Scribes were “because it has always been that way” theologians, that is to say the kind of theology that is built on its past and nothing new really comes about. But things were definitely not the same any more.

 

It is in this new reality that people began to see that this must be God’s work, because it is only God who can author this new story. There is only one God, one Lord, and neither you nor I are it, or anyone who has earthly power. What this passage says to us is that this new thing that Jesus does, as God in our midst, is to signal that Jesus has come to oppose all the forces that keep the children of God, and that is all of us, from the abundant life God desires for all of us. And that message matters. God wants the most for us from this life and stands in opposition to anything that robs us of the joy and community and purpose for which we were created.

 

And what is the purpose for which we are created? To love God with all our heart and mind and soul, and to love our neighbor. This is the abundant life that God promises. The release of this unclean spirit by Jesus’ authority shows us that. And as the very first thing Jesus does in Mark’s telling of this story, it shows us that God’s love for us, through Jesus’ authority, releases us , and creates in us love for neighbor, love for the unlovable, love for the least of these. 

 

This is good news indeed. God’s love releases us from all that holds us captive. What is that for you? What holds you captive? In these rocky days there’s a list of stuff that holds us captive. Fear maybe at the top of the list. Fear of being unlovable. Fear of not being enough. Or even fear that you can’t measure up to the claim that Jesus makes on us, the claim to our very hearts. Let Jesus open wide the doors of your heart and your brokenness will be made whole. And from that newness and softness of heart flows the love that creates a new reality, a reality of love and compassion, kindness, mercy, justice. 

 

And that, my friends, is when love really does win. 

2 Epiphany Yr A Jan 15 2017

2 Epiphany Yr A Jan 15 2017 Audio

Come and spend the day with me, Jesus says to Andrew and his friend. Come and see where I am staying, come and see who I am. Come and spend the day with me. Jesus is the one they were waiting for, Jesus is the one they believed the stories they told were all about. Jesus, the Lamb of God, Jesus, the Son of God, Jesus, the one to whom John points. Come and spend the day with me.

You know, the meaning of words change over time. For example, hospital was a once a place for the reception and entertainment of travelers and pilgrims, from the Latin, "hospitality." Another, if you invested in someone, you clothed them, from the Latin "to clothe." So investment once meant "putting clothes on" which were vestments. The place I am going with this is the place we seem to be today with the word "evangelism," a word Episcopalians have had a hard time with for a while now. Even hearing the word strikes fear in the heart of any native Episcopalian, and even those of us who have come later in life to the light. We think of soap box yellers, we cringe at the thought of the question, "Have you accepted Jesus Christ as your lord and savior?" We are polite people, and know that this does not make for good dinner table or cocktail party conversation. Besides, what can stop conversation faster than, "Do you know where you're going when you die?" Or the one I like the very best, "Have you found Jesus?" I am always tempted to answer with, "I didn't know he was lost!" Or, "yes, he's been behind the couch the whole time!" The point is, that the word evangelist means "bringer of good news," therefore evangelism is to "bring good news."

Come and spend the day with me and I will bring you good news. Not such a bad way to evangelize, is it? Today I would like us to take back evangelism, to not be afraid of the word or of the activity. Today I would like us to respond to Jesus' invitation to spend the day, and listen to who Jesus calls us to be, and how Jesus calls us to be evangelists, how Jesus calls us to bring good news.

Another related word that elicits fear in many Episcopalians these days is mission. Mission has been related to the violent act of colonizing a people so that those people look and act and talk like the dominant culture. Our church, and others, have been guilty of this kind of mission in our history. And yet that is not what mission is all about. Mission is about building bridges and forming relationships and partnerships that may result in mutual growth and learning and compassion and healing.

Come and spend the day with me, and I will teach you about the good news, I will teach you about forgiveness and reconciliation, and you can bring that into the world and show others how to follow me. We claim to be followers of Jesus. Our baptismal identity is grounded in that claim. We reiterated that claim when we were confirmed, and we live out that claim every time we gather together to break bread. In the story we hear today, Andrew brings the good news to his brother and his friends, and together they follow Jesus.

Evangelism and mission are nothing more, and nothing less, than the invitation to come and spend the day with Jesus. To notice the amazing creation, to see where God is in your life, and to invite those you encounter into the Love, Freedom, and Truth that Jesus is. As with anything and everything, this takes practice. Your vestry practices evangelism, they may not know they are, but they do. Each time your vestry gathers, we begin in prayer and with stories about how we see God at work in our congregation and in our community. We call them Good News stories. God is at work, and we practice noticing that and describing that. You could practice that too. So the first part is to notice what God is up to.

The second part is to share what is important to you about your faith or your church. Why do you come here to Trinity every Sunday? Why do you seek Jesus? Is it because here you can be your broken, messy, confident, joyful, self in front of God and the rest of us? Is it because you are not perfect, but you want to find out what it is to be perfectly loved? Is it because you miss the mark, just like the rest of us, and in some way you know the freedom of forgiveness? Is it because you always have come here? Is it because you have a place here, you belong here? Is it because you help with GIFTS, or you deliver meals, or you give food and clothes to those who have none, and on some level you bring Jesus' incarnation to people who just need to eat?

The third part is the inviting, and we think the hardest part is the inviting. Like Andrew, who goes to get his brother, we too can invite those we work with, those we go to school with, those who we see in pain, to come and see. It may seem hard, but you invite people all the time, you invite them to your home, or to a movie, or to the concert, or to take a walk with you. It's no different. Come and see, what Trinity has for you. Come and see the Love that wins. Come and see how your life matters. Come and see the good news of Jesus in the word and music, in the bread and the wine, in prayer and silence, in who we are and what we do. Jesus says, come and spend the day with me. Come, and see who I am. Come and find healing, forgiveness, and love. Come.

And then go. Follow Jesus out into the world. Bring the Good News into your families and your work, bring the Good News into the marketplace and the community. Bring the Good News of God's healing love. Our voice matters. Our actions matter. We are the people who can make a difference. We are the people who know the true freedom of God's love. We are the people who know that no matter what we've done, how broken we truly are, that God loves us anyway. Preach this Good News with your life and your love. Proclaim this Good News with your heart and your soul. We are all related in God, show with your life the ways God's love in the world. Amen.

6 Easter Yr B May 10 2015

(I  chose this because I like it, it's true, and Madeleine L'engle was my inspiration for this sermon today)

Mother's day prayer

Today's gospel is a continuation of what we heard last week. This is Jesus' commandment, love each other just as you have been loved. But the part of it that has taken hold of my heart and imagination is this, "You didn't choose me, but I chose you and appointed you so that you could go and produce fruit and so that your fruit could last." You see, here is the Good News, the good news that God chose us. That God loves us. That God plans to use us to make this world God loves a better place.

This matters, I think, because if it’s finally up to us – to choose Jesus, to remain in him, to obey his commandments, to pursue happiness, or to choose joy, then we are lost. We simply don’t do it. Maybe we can’t. We can try, and there is something valiant and noble and important about trying.

Not that God’s choosing us is a panacea, as if none of the difficulties of this life matter. Rather, knowing that God has chosen us, loves us, and will use us gives us the courage to face the challenges and renews our strength to do something about them. Ultimately, we cannot fix, let alone redeem, this world. That’s why that’s God’s work. But knowing that God has promised to do so can provide us with the strength and energy to work to make the little corner of the world we live in a better place.

God chooses us. We are God's beloved. We are named and marked as Christ's own forever. God provides us with the strength and energy, all that we need, to participate with God in the work of building God's kingdom. Our work is to bear that Good News into all of the places we find ourselves. God's love that we bear into the dark and hateful places of the world is not about a way we feel. It is about what we do. 

God's love for us is not necessarily the same warm and squishy feeling we have for those we love. God's love for us, God's beloved, is love that is self giving, pouring out grace and dignity and justice. It is that sort of love that we are commanded to give to others. And that is not easy. 

It is the kind of love that identifies the similar humanity in those we are called to love, even and especially when we don't like them. It is this love that can cast out hate, it is this light that will brighten the darkness, it is this love that will change the world. This is incarnational love. This is love in the flesh. This is the love that was born into our world to show us how to live this life. This is the love that wins. 

We are called, we are chosen, we are marked, we must bear love, and light, and wholeness, from this place into all of the places we frequent, we must be the lovers that shine so brightly so that the haters are revealed and transformed. And maybe we can't, but there is something noble in trying.

This is the love that is made real in the incarnation, and in the crucifixion. This is the love that is born into our lives, and this is the love that holds us and cradles us each time we walk with those in our lives will die. This is the love that is embodied in our own death. This is the love that is real in Jesus's body and blood, it is the love that is real in the bread and the wine eaten at this table, it is the love that is real in all of the meals around all of our tables.  

The difficulty of this love that God has for us and that we are commanded to have for one another, is that it isn't about us, it isn't about how we feel, it is about what we do, and it is about giving ourselves in love with the sure and certain reality that in doing so we are transformed, and that transformation is out of our control. 

The result though of giving ourselves in love is that we go deeper into heart of God, we go deeper into the soul of the sacred. And the result of giving ourselves in love is that we partner with God in healing and reconciliation, we partner with God in justice and mercy. And maybe we can't change the world, but there is something noble in trying, and we can change our little corner of the world, and in so doing, we are made more completely in God's image. 

You are called, you are chosen, you are marked as Christ's own forever. You probably know the likely apocryphal story of when someone asked Martin Luther what he would do if the world were going to end tomorrow. He replied that he would plant a tree today. The future is God’s, a gift given, like joy, to God’s beloved children. How do you make this world a better place?

I know how many of you, who are chosen, who are loved, who are marked as Christ's own forever, who give of yourselves and die a little to do it, make this world a better place, and in so doing, change your corner of the world. Many of you provide the meal for the cornerstone mission, many of you contribute in significant ways to feeding people, many of you provide resources for clothing children to go to school, sometimes it doesn't seem like much, but it is so much.

You see, Jesus’ story didn’t stop with the tomb. Rooted in God’s love for the world, it bears the fruit of justice, joy and reconciliation. It creates space for life where it seems that there is none, making room for other people to flourish. It nurtures friendships and fosters the ability to trust in God’s abundance, grace, provision in the face of scarcity, death. It includes the excluded, invites in the ostracized, meets the needs of the hungry, the isolated, the oppressed.

This love is not the love of warm fuzzies. Rather, it ultimately anticipates that our own bodies – individually and collectively as the church, the body of Christ – are a means by which God provides for the world if we’re open to and rest in the leading of the Spirit. 

1 Lent Yr C

A wondering Norwegian is my grandfather. I have attended Monson family reunions since I was in high school, at least that’s as far back as I remember. And as far back as that memory goes I heard the story of my family coming to this country from Norway. After a few years of hearing the story it was mine, I could tell it. In the valley where the farm was in Norway there was an awful avalanche that covered the house, Dorothy was hurt, but no one in the family was killed. Five siblings came to this country, including my great great grandfather Mons, only one stayed behind in Norway. After coming to this country, my great great grandfather settled near Benson Minnesota, and he and his wife had many children, one of which was my great grandfather Jacob. Jacob and Anna had many children, one of which was my grandfather Nelbert. Eventually, Nelbert and Inga had many children, one of which was my father, Juel. And eventually my dad who was always called Mons, and my mom Pat, had many children. When I was just out of college, I went to Norway and met relatives that live in the very valley where this avalanche was. As I stood looking out over that valley my great uncle who I was with and who I had only just met, told me the very same story and I was connected to those people of so long ago whose story is my story. I read their names on the historical marker that was erected by the road. This story has become very important to me.

These days when we gather for the Monson reunion we tell this same story, and we’ve learned more about ourselves over the years, and all of that is added to the story. As the elders of our family have died, we have been freed to talk more frankly about the reality of life on the prairies of Minnesota and North Dakota. Our story now includes the children born outside of marriage, it includes the truth about the difficult life that was lived in central Minnesota, our story reflects more accurately the joys and the sorrows of life. This is the story that nourishes us today, and gives us hope for tomorrow. We are constituted as Monson’s by this story.

We hear in Deuteronomy this morning, “A wandering Aramean was my father, he went down to Egypt and sojourned there, he and just a handful of his brothers at first, but soon they became a great nation, mighty and many. The Egyptians abused and battered us, in a cruel and savage slavery. We cried out to God, the God-of-Our-Fathers: He listened to our voice; he saw our destitution, our trouble, our cruel plight. And God took us out of Egypt with his strong hand and long arm, terrible and great, with signs and miracle-wonders. And he brought us to this place, gave us this land flowing with milk and honey. So here I am. I've brought the first fruits of what I've grown on this ground you gave me, O God.”

This is a creation story. This is the story that tells us that we are a people who are related to the Creator God. This is the story that constitutes us.

This is the story that tells us about the pain and the suffering that our people have endured. It is the story that teaches us that together we endured the abuse and battering, the slavery. It is the story that teaches us that God listened, saw our plight, and took us out of that land and brought us to a land flowing with milk and honey. After planting and tending crops, our people gave the first fruits to God.

You and I know however that the story continues, as it continues we learn that our people turned away from God and worshiped idols, we turned away from God and believed that we could be self-sufficient, that we didn’t need God. And as the story goes, God loves God’s people even in times such as these. This is the pattern of the story, it is the story that constitutes us, and it is the story in which each of us participates. God’s covenant with God’s people is about always loving humanity, and always loving every one of us, there is no one outside of God’s love.

And then we hear this story about Jesus in the wilderness. Jesus is full of the Holy Spirit, very newly baptized, and tempted by the devil. The story may have many titles, but as I read it again I hear dueling biblical interpretation. The devil throws down a scripture text, and Jesus retorts with a quote from Deuteronomy, “It takes more than bread to really live.” The devil throws down the next text, and Jesus responds again from Deuteronomy “worship the Lord your God and only the Lord your God. Serve him with absolute singe-heartedness.” And lastly the devil takes him to Jerusalem and challenges him to throw himself off the pinnacle of the temple, and quotes to him the psalm “he has placed you in the care of angels to protect you; they will catch you; you won’t so much as stub your toe on a stone.” And Jesus answers, “don’t you tempt the Lord your God.” Nothing the devil said was a lie. The devil quotes straight from scripture, but what the devil forgets in this dueling exchange of scripture, is the relationship. The relationship between God and the people that was constituted from the beginning, the relationship that Jesus renews by being in our midst, the relationship that reminds us who we are, and whose we are.

We wander in the wilderness of our own pain and suffering, alienation and isolation. We wander in the wilderness tempted by the excesses of our culture. We wander in the wilderness tempted by a sense of power that makes us think we can fix everything, that if we just work harder and longer and better we will live forever. We wander in the wilderness, we wander in the desolate places and we forget our story, we forget who we are and whose we are. We forget that we are in the wilderness together, and that together we encounter Jesus.

This Lent, we have the opportunity to be reminded by the Good News. The Good News that Jesus the Christ, full of the Holy Spirit, came to confront the powers of sin and death, the powers that separate us from one another, the powers that try to convince us that we are not loved or lovable, everything that separates us from one another, from God, and from the joyful, peaceful, loving life for which God made us, and for which Jesus won on the cross. But, I get ahead of myself. On this first Sunday of Lent, Luke shares with us the Good News that Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, confronted the devil and won. Jesus reminds us who we are and whose we are.

Please remember that the victory Jesus won is not a victory that takes away pain and suffering. It is not an easy victory. Jesus accompanies us through the wilderness, through the pain and suffering and betrayal. We learn from our companions on the journey, if your heart is breaking, mine is breaking also, we need to walk together, and our stories and our prayers will sustain us. If you’re laughing, let’s share it, and lighten the way. Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, was led into desolation and victory, and is company for all of us on the winding path toward healing and reconciliation.

The Lord is full of compassion and mercy: Come let us adore him.