Palm Sunday Year C Luke 19:28-40

Palm Sunday Yr C Luke 19:28-40

I have chosen to say a few words at this spot today because it makes more sense to me to talk about Jesus' grand entry into Jerusalem, and then to receive the story of Jesus' passion in silence. Liturgically, we do something very odd here. We begin our worship together with waving palms, with the parade, and with Jesus' entry into Jerusalem, and we end our worship in quiet, as we prepare for the unfolding of this passionate story through out the week. Please know that it takes all week to hear this story, to participate in this story, to be able to approach Easter and resurrection. This week carve out time to participate, you all have full lives, but this week, of all the weeks of our lives, is the week to be here.

In this culture of go, go, go, the only time we ever seem to slow down, or even stop, is when a loved one dies. So many of you have been there. We gather, we tell stories, about who they are, about the last time we were together, about the last things they were doing. We grieve and are sad, we cry, we wait, we celebrate their life, we eat, and we do all these things together. This is that week, this death is that death, and we need do it together.  

But for this moment, I need to reflect on the Palm of Palm Sunday. Jesus and the disciples and thousands of other pilgrims have made their way to Jerusalem for the Passover. Jesus hailed as a king. Not Caesar, not the appointed Roman governor. But a new king –  one for the poor, for those without voices, for those left behind. Jesus is hailed as King, riding on a colt. The disciples welcome him into their city, Jerusalem, and shout "blessed is the one who comes in the name of The Lord – the king of Israel" for now. They lay down their cloaks, holey as they are. And for the time being, we are all willing to follow. But are we also willing to follow into trouble, controversy, trial and death?

When we look closely we see the people gathered for this parade, this march, this entrance into Jerusalem. They are not the important and powerful, but the poor and marginalized, maybe even the young, many of them Jesus' disciples. This very important but very brief story shows us that Love does not win by the world's standards. Jesus comes as the fulfillment of the nation's hopes, answering our longings for a king who would bring peace to earth from heaven itself. Jesus brings the peace that surpasses understanding, and much of what is about to unfold in the next few days will be the price he pays to bring it. Jesus’ disciples, of course, have seen things that have changed their lives forever and have raised their hopes. Indeed, our lives our changed.

This is not about the powerful Pharisees, grumbling about what will happen if the authorities in Jerusalem think that there's a messianic demonstration going on. From now on we see them no more. It is about Mary, who sang at the beginning of this story, “He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts, he has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly, he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty” and cries at the foot of the cross in just a short time. It is not about the powerful or wealthy people of the day, it is about the Kingdom of God in which the last will be first and the first will be last. It is about the woman who anoints Jesus with a very costly ointment of nard. It is about Judas, one of the twelve, one of Jesus’ friends, who makes a choice of power and greed over love. It is about bread and blessing, it is about prayer and emptying, it is about betrayal and it is about love.

Love wins by God's defeat of evil, and our participation in the new life made possible by the work of Jesus. God gives up Godself for us, those God loves, thus empowering and emboldening us to do the same. 

This is the holiest of weeks. We have prepared ourselves throughout Lent for this journey with Jesus. We come to this Passover festival with Jesus' disciples, we come lean and fit, free of all the stuff that has held us hostage, as that is what our Lenten discipline has done for us. We have carried our own cross with us, by the cross traced on our foreheads, we have remembered who and whose we are. We have left behind that which keeps us prisoner to the world's wants and wills, we have disassembled brick by brick the walls that we had build to shield us from God's love, we have learned about forgiveness, we have been forgiven. We make this journey with Jesus, and revel in the pre-Passover party. 

Rejoice in this moment. This moment of welcome, when the shouts of "Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!” is heard throughout the cosmos. This moment is fleeting. It turns quickly to the terrifying shouts of the crowd, "crucify him." 

After the story this morning, we will sit in the silence for a time. As we leave this space today, we enter into a Holy Week. Please don't wait to come back until Easter, come back to walk these steps to the cross with Jesus, and your Easter joy may be complete. Amen.

Luke 15:1-7, Second Week DMin

In the very short story that we have before us today we participate in a celebration, a banquet, that is so much greater and grander than any celebration we can put on ourselves. There are so many people invited, so many people come. How do we get there? How do we get from a lost sheep to a grand, joyful, party?

The sheep is lost. It has wandered off, ninety-nine sheep left behind, and the shepherd goes out to find that one darned sheep. The shepherd looks and looks and finally there it is. The shepherd wraps this sheep in his arms, cradles it across his shoulders, tucked around his neck, where the shepherd can feel it’s heartbeat, slowing with every step, calming with every assurance, you’ll be ok, I’ve got you now.

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

Food, fun, frivolity. Celebrations just are not celebrations without gathering together around food, and the people who matter to us. The last thing I did before I came to spend these three weeks with you was our parish picnic. You know those picnic potlucks, overflowing with food enough for hundreds. We had to pull out more tables for all the food. We celebrate around food. Come we say, come and help us celebrate our graduations, our births, our comings and our goings. Come, and help us celebrate life, and death. Come, and help us celebrate our joys and sorrows. Come and let’s celebrate our turning and returning. Come to this table, you are expected, you are welcome. I think God’s celebrating at that one found sheep.

Don’t you hate that feeling of loosing someone in a crowd? The initial panic of  “Where’d he go?” followed immediately by “Oh my God he’s lost!” Even when it’s just for a minute. We were at the Minnesota State Fair, many of you know what those crowds are like. Up near machinery hill, playing on the Rainbow Playsets, and all of a sudden our son is gone. We panic, and look desperately for him, convinced someone has snatched him and run off with him. And the god-awful longest minute later, there he is, running toward us, as panicked as we are, and we snatch him up and hold him tight never to let go again. There is never even a question of leaving the ninety-nine behind, of course I search for the one who is lost.

That one horrible minute of being lost, it’s not about anyone being at fault, it is about the love and compassion in the finding, and in the returning to the arms that enfold, and encourage, and celebrate our return.

That Minnesota State Fair feels like the biggest party on earth. It seems like everyone in the entire state of Minnesota is there, all of humanity is there, all at the same time I am. And the food…the corn on the cob, and the Sweet Martha’s Cookies, and everything imaginable on a stick.

But the party held at the return of the one who was lost, is even bigger and better than the State Fair. Because, like the State Fair, no one is left out, every darn person is invited. You see, there are people at the State Fair I would never have invited to my party, there are people there I would never have eaten a corn dog next to in any other place or at any other time.

Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to Jesus. And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, “This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.

When we hear these words, we recall the grumbling and whining of the Israelites wandering in the wilderness. Why did we leave Egypt, at least there we knew what misery to expect. In this wilderness we are hungry, and we don’t like the food God gives us, we’d really like something else. But Luke shows us that Jesus is trying to get the whole family together at the long ago foretold Abrahamic table, and the invitation is so broad, and wide, and deep, there is no building that can hold the party.

The story of the lost coin, and the story of the lost son, that follow this story of the lost sheep, help us to see how deeply Luke believes that this great feast, this great banquet, this amazing meal, is the portrait of the kingdom of God. In those stories, what was lost is found, what was dead is alive, and the celebration begins. In the third story, the lost son, we never find out if the older son, the one who was loyal and never got himself lost, ever joined in the celebration. He may very well have missed out because he was so angry at his father for welcoming back his brother. Each story shows us an increasing measure of loss and pain. But the measure of that loss and pain is nothing compared to the immensity of the joy of the one who welcomes the lost ones back.

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

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

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

15 Sunday after Pentecost Yr C, Proper 17, Sept 1 2013

What to preach about today? Do I give you all a travelogue? As I was wondering aloud about this sermon, someone suggested I give you a top ten of everything we did and saw. We'll have many opportunities to talk about what we did and where we've been. You'll even probably get tired of me talking about it pretty darn quick. But the gospel pulls at me, and I can't just ignore it. And, as some of you know, Luke is my favorite gospel. So today, you get the gospel. 

Luke, the gospel writer of hospitality, tells us a story about Jesus who is going to the house of a leader of the Pharisees, who we affectionally consider the keepers of the Law, to eat, on the Sabbath, a day that is held in high esteem according to the Law, a day set apart from all other days. In the story that Luke is telling us, Jesus observes how the guests take their places, and in response, Jesus tells a story about an invitation to a very special meal, a wedding banquet. We have before us, a story within a story. 

So first of all, I want you to imagine yourself as one of the invited guests. What does that mean for you? Where do you sit? With whom do you sit? Is there ever a time you may think to yourself, surely not saying anything out loud, that person should not be here, that person is not distinguished enough, that person is not good enough, that person is not like me, that person should not be at this table. Jesus says, "give this person your place." Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it. 

Now, I want you to imagine yourself as the one who does the inviting. When you give a luncheon or a dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbors, in case they may invite you in return, and you would be repaid. But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame and the blind. And you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you, for you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous. Remember, this parable is told in the context of a meal at the house of a leader of the Pharisees. You gotta believe the leader of the Pharisees have an agenda in inviting Jesus over, usually, they want to test him, they want to see what he's made of, they want to find out if he is righteous before the law. And so far, Jesus has failed miserably. He heals on the Sabbath, he eats with sinners and outcasts, and now, he's telling everyone in hearing distance not to invite the important people over for a meal, but invite those who cannot return the invitation. Who do we invite to come eat with us here at St. Andrew's? And when we invite them, do we actually encourage them to have something to eat, at this table and at the table in the parish hall. Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it.

And lastly, I want you to imagine the invitation itself. This is an invitation that we cannot pay back. Jesus invites each and every one of us to the table, and somehow, we are transformed in the eating. Somehow, we cannot leave the table without being changed. But it is not our own doing, it is indeed the love that wins, the love that blesses, that changes us. Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it.

You see, this story within a story from the gospel writer Luke, who is all about hospitality, gives us a picture of God's kingdom. What does the kingdom look like in this story? 

We need to back up for a moment, and remember something about 1st century mediterranean context. The greatest good was ones honor. Of course you sat at the head of the table, of course you expected those less than you to sit at the lowest place. Of course you invited the important people, the people who could do something for you, the people who had something you need. You would not have considered any other way. That's the way the world worked. It's really not so much different today. Jesus came into that context as Jesus comes into our context and says there is a new way, a way of God's kingdom. And in that kingdom, everyone has honor, everyone has status, and that is based on God's love, that is based on being created in God's image. It is not about who you are, it is not based on how much you have, it is not based on anything you can do. In God's kingdom, we are all related, and what we do matters. In God's kingdom it is love that wins and love that blesses.

We are called to the same sort of hospitality, we are called to make the same sort of invitation, we are called to build this kingdom, where no one is an outcast, where all of us sinners are welcome. We are called to the table to feed and be fed. As we feed and are fed, we are sent into the world to be the heralds of this kingdom. We are sent into our work, and our school, we are sent into our communities, bearing this new reality. We are sent into the world to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing so we entertain angels. By doing so we are the agents of God's kingdom. By doing so we bring God's healing and reconciliation to all who are broken, which is each and every one of us. 

We are followers of Christ. We are invited to the table where there is no preference of place. We are invited to be builders of the kingdom. We are charged to engage every person with mercy and compassion, for by doing so, we entertain angels. 

This is a picture of a stained glass window in the Durham Cathedral.

4 Epiphany Yr C Feb 3 2013

On a Saturday afternoon, when I was in elementary school, all of us would load up the yellow school buses, our mom's and maybe our dad's, all the kids, and we'd head downtown Minneapolis for the Shrine Circus. What an adventure, people squished together to get in, people squished together in their seats. The smell of cotton candy wafting through the air, hot dogs, and cracker jacks. All of those light up whirring toys tempting us, calling to us, and our mom's saying no. At least my mom saying no. But it's the trapeze that I am imagining today. The men and women climbing all the way to the top of the big top, swinging the swings back and forth, net placed under them. One person on each swing, swinging back and forth. And then the flyer, hands clasped to the swinger, swings back and forth, until it's time to let go and fly. That's it, right there, flying through the air, exhilarating and frightening all at the same time.

That's the place Jesus puts us. That's where this story puts us. It continues the story we began to hear last week, Jesus takes up the scroll in his neighborhood synagogue, the place he grew up, the place he crawled around on the floor as a kid, the place he played with his friends, the place he learned to read. His friends in the synagogue were thinking, this is Joseph's son, isn't he a nice boy. And he knows his Bible so well. And then as Jesus is reading from the prophet Isaiah, he claims that he himself is in the line of the prophets. Just like that the story takes a dramatic shift. The story had always been told about events in the future, the messiah will come, the messiah will be a political event, and all of a sudden the tense changes from Messiah's fulfillment in the future to now, this is happening now. It gets really tense. And it surely doesn't look anything like any of them had imagined.

And that's where we are, like the trapeze flyer, we have left one swing behind, and have not yet grasped the other one. We live in this place of exhilaration and fright all at one time. We live in this presence that Jesus gives us. The past has been, the future is yet, and Jesus pulls us squarely into the present, and claims that God's love and grace are available to you right here and right now.

And the reading from first Corinthians shows us what we are doing while we are flying. We are loving. And if we are not loving, we are falling.

The good news though, might actually be about the net. Now you may think the net is there to catch you when you miss the connection, and that is helpful. But I would suggest the net is there to make us bold and courageous. Without the net we tend to be timid, and you can't be timid and fly, the net helps us to love boldly and courageously. The net helps us to let go and live the life of love that Jesus invites us to live, not in the past, not in the future, but right now. Love is patient and kind, love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. Love does not rejoice in wrongdoing but in the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things, Love wins.

And the net reminds us there is a cost to flying, there is a cost to following Jesus. Because the Word of God is for all people including the poor and the oppressed. And the Word of God threatened and continues to threaten those who are in positions of authority. Jesus tells stories that show God’s grace, available to all, not to some. Like rain, God's grace falls where God wills, touching all – Gentiles as well as Jews, insiders as well as outsiders. To speak and act in God’s name sets one apart, and sets one up for ridicule, sets one up to be thrown over the cliff.

And the net also reminds us that forgiveness is about living boldly and courageously. Loving, loving as first Corinthians encourages us to love, does not mean that we get it perfect or even right. But not loving, not even trying, is to not even live at all. We may miss, but you can't miss if you don't fly, you can't miss if you don't Love. The net reminds us that when we miss, God's forgiveness and grace is there to catch us.

When they realized what he was saying, they got angry, is this not just Joseph's son? Who does he think he is? They led him to the cliff so that they could hurl him off. Now, in the movies what would be really exciting is the hero hurled off the cliff, and somehow he flies, or is rescued with a lot of special effects. And you might think that's where I'm going with the flying image, but no. Jesus doesn't get rescued in a dramatic sort of way, instead, he passes through the midst of them and goes on his way. And that too is bold and courageous.

Jesus is in our midst, Jesus is fully and completely present with us. Jesus didn't get somehow whisked off the cliff, and Jesus doesn't get whisked off the cross. That's not the way the story goes. After some pain and suffering, Jesus dies on the cross. Pain and suffering are a part of living and loving. The new life that is offered goes through the cross, not around it, and Jesus is not magically whisked off of it or out of it. Nor are we. We might fall or fail when we are living and loving boldly and courageously, and as we hit the net there's nothing that guarantees that we don't get hurt, it may even kill us. But that's not the end of the story, because you and I know that Love wins.

The claim that Jesus makes, that God's kingdom is fulfilled in the present, in our presence, is transformational. We are partners with Jesus in kingdom building, and we have our roadmap in Corinthians, "And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love." And as partners with Jesus we love boldly and courageously.

3 Epiphany Yr C Jan 27 2013

Jesus proclaims from the prophet Isaiah, "God’s Spirit is on me; he’s chosen me to preach the Message of good news to the poor, sent me to announce pardon to prisoners and recovery of sight to the blind, to set the burdened and battered free, to announce, “This is God’s year to act!” Have you ever had that experience when you say something and those with whom you are speaking look at you like you have three heads? Or they fall silent and everyone gets nervous and then someone laughs, and no one knows what to say? Happens to me all the time, and it happened to Jesus in this story. The room fell silent and I'm sure it says somewhere that they all thought he was a crazy man. Most of them grew up with Jesus, or were parents of the kids he grew up with, or they were relatives. I'm sure they were thinking to themselves, did he just say what we think he just said? Isn't he just Joseph and Mary's son? Did he really say what we think he just said?

What did Jesus just say? With his life, Jesus is saying, God is acting right here, right now. Jesus is saying God's promises are not out in the future, they are right now. Jesus is saying, God is with you in the the flesh. Jesus is saying, what is important is what we do right now. Jesus is saying, you are forgiven, you are free, you can see. Jesus is saying, love wins, this good news changes you and changes the world.

You see, we are captive to our ways of thinking, our idolatries, our fears, our expectations about the way things ought to be. The people listening to Jesus in the synagogue that day expected Jesus to be a certain way. They knew he was the teenager who had scared his mother to death when he stayed back in the temple when Mary and Joseph had taken him there for the passover. They expected him to be that child, that boy, that man who they thought they knew so well. But Jesus was acting outside of their expectations. Jesus was saying to them that God is accessible to them right here, right now, right in this community.

This new thing that happens with Jesus is God with us. Emmanuel. That is why we read this story during the season of Epiphany, the season that we rest in the part of the story about incarnation, God in the flesh. It's hard for us to imagine, because you and I are so familiar with Jesus. For the Jews before Jesus, God was always contained. God was carried from place to place in the ark of covenant, and then God was in the temple in the holy of holies. And the stories of God were fearsome.

So this message that Jesus is bearing, the message that God who is the creator of all that is seen and unseen, is here among us, and that Jesus in some way embodies God's real presence, is a world altering claim. The silence must have been deafening. So how does that make things different?

To be honest, I'm not quite sure. I too, am silenced by this amazing news that God is with us in Jesus. But I think it has something to do with how we see each other. I think it has something to do with how we treat each other. I think it has something to do with life and it's value. I think God comes to us to show us the way because we are God's beloved, and yet somehow we keep making a mess of things.

And I think that that's where the truth is, somewhere in the mess and muck of life. Because no matter how much we mess things up, God continues to love us. No matter how poor we believe we are, poor in spirit, poor in friendship, poor in how much money we have, poor in skills, the good news is that God continues to love us and count us worthy. No matter how much we continue to be captive by greed, no matter how much we continue to be captive by power, no matter how much we continue to be captive by the need to acquire, no matter how much we continue to be captive by the need to be at the center of attention, no matter how much we continue to be captive by the need to please others, God sets us free. No matter how tight we keep our eyes closed to the the needs of our neighbors, no matter how tight we keep our eyes closed to others who are different from us, no matter how tight we keep our eyes closed to those who can't afford to pay the rent, or pay for health care, no matter how tight we keep our eyes closed, we are forgiven.

So that's it really, that's all I know. God loves us, no matter what, God sets us free to love ourselves and to love others, Jesus walks with us in this life to show us how to keep loving even in the mess of our lives. We don't have to have it all together before we are worthy to be loved. And that is transformational. The reality of God's love is in the present, in our midst. It is made known to us in the breaking of bread and in the prayers. It is made known to us in the people who we gather together with each Sunday right here, and it is made know to us in the people with whom we share our meals and our homes and our communities. The reality of God's love is in the present, and it is made known to us in forgiveness, God's forgiveness of us and our forgiveness of others. The reality of God's love is in the present, and it is made known to us in the messiness of our lives. The reality is that Love wins.

Christmas 2010

In the midst of the trees and the tinsel, the shopping and the wrapping, the baking and the giving, God breaks in. A baby, born in a barn, cold and vulnerable, to parents who have no discernible home, and of questionable status, is our God. A baby, born to show us what love looks like in the midst of the brokenness of our lives. God comes crashing into our world, sometimes painfully, sometimes dangerously. And God comes quietly, as a newborn baby. Ready or not, crashing or quietly, God comes. Madeleine L’engle, in her book Bright Evening Star, describes it like this. “Was there a moment, known only to God, when all the stars held their breath, when the galaxies paused in their dance for a fraction of a second, and the Word, who had called it all into being, went with all his love into the womb of a young girl, and the universe started to breathe again, and the ancient harmonies resumed their song, and the angels clapped their hands for joy?”

Christmas comes and I am reminded of the Who’s in Whoville, from the Grinch story. No matter what the Grinch did, Christmas would come anyway. Because Christmas is not presents and trees and lights and cookies, Christmas is incarnation, and incarnation happens with or without the rest of it.

Imagine yourself living in the dark days of the oppressive rule of Rome. This census that caused Mary and Joseph and all the others to travel from Nazareth to Bethlehem was about unjust taxation by Quirinius. The gospel writer Luke knows that Jesus was born in dark times. He knows about the dark times that followed as well—the famine in Judea, the war with Rome, the destruction of the Temple, strife within synagogues, the persecution and martyrdom.

And yet, still, tonight we celebrate the Good News. This is not a celebration of sentimentality and nostalgia. It is not a celebration of the power to get, or a contest about what’s in your wallet. It’s not a celebration about who is at the head of the table, who is able to give the most, the biggest, the best, gifts.

Jesus has come among us. The Light has come into the world; darkness has not, is not, and shall not prevail. God’s glory is revealed! All we need to do is to follow the signs. And what are the signs? A child, wrapped in ordinary cloth and lying in a manger. A peasant girl, narrowly spared from being stoned to death by her village after her husband-to-be found her to be pregnant with a child that wasn’t his. An overwhelmed father, doing his best to find shelter for his family on a night when they are homeless and friendless. A gathering of shepherds, among the lowest of laborers.

You see, the signs show us that the world doesn’t have to be made perfect before it is made new. You and I do not have to be perfect before we are made new. That’s what’s so amazing about God with us. God comes to us in the midst of the chaos, in the midst of the darkness. God comes to be with us in the midst of our isolation and alienation, in the midst of the muck of the stable, and the pain of a Roman cross.

This is an extravagant love, an abundant love, poured out for each one of us as if each one of us was the only one in existence; poured out for all of us in unlimited supply. This abundant love is offered without reservation or regard for what you have and haven’t done, or how many Christmas cookies you make, or how many Christmas presents you give, or how many lights are on your house.

The prophets of the Old Testament testified to this love, in Isaiah we hear a statement of faith, trust, and gratitude for what the Lord has already done. Grounded in this certainty makes the next words of promise and future hope believable. While it appears that the powers of this world have a firm hold, God's power will have the final victory. In the midst of that which creates despair and darkness, God's light shines as that which is the fulfillment of all that we need and everything that we wish could be.

On Christmas Eve, when candles burn bright to witness to the God's light that shines in all of our darkness, we are reminded that this is not just a claim for tonight, or even because of Jesus, but points to the nature of who God is and always has been. When the candles are extinguished, the lights put away, and the decorations stored until next year, God is still God.

The love that God has for creation is beyond comprehension. That is why God came into our midst, to shed light on this love. You see, Jesus is more than a teacher who can help us understand the words in scripture. Jesus is the Word made flesh. We don’t have to figure it all out; we can experience it in relationship.

God with us, God in our midst, the light that has come into the world is the power and the hope of Christmas. And this isn’t just something that has happened, or that happens to us, we are not a passive observer. This is a relationship in which we participate. You and I are part of it; we are constituents, part of a community that is the body of Christ. The Word made flesh meets us in the Flesh. We are not acted upon by a “big guy up there.”

That’s what this is all about. God came to be with us, and God comes to be with us, and God will be with us, and therefore we are invited into a relationship with God and with one another. And we don’t have to be perfect in this relationship. In fact, it is into the midst of our brokenness that God comes.

One way we express this participation is when we gather together and the Word is present in our midst, and we are re-membered in the Body and Blood of Christ, just as we are doing right now.

Another way we participate in a relationship with God is to carry the light into the world. You see, God’s work is not contained inside a church. We participate in God’s work, and are nourished and fortified to do God’s work, but most of that work takes place out there, it takes place in your work and in your play, in your school. We are to be the light that illuminates God, we are to be the light that shines on people and shows them the way to God.

It’s a new life. It’s a new world. Right here, right now, we are invited to experience the Incarnation we celebrate in Christmas by living and loving as Christ’s body in the world. That’s the light we walk in, that shines all the more brightly in the darkness that cannot overcome it. That’s the hope that sustains us, the peace that keeps us centered amidst life’s turmoil, the joy that makes eternal and abundant life present in the here and now.

Alleluia. To us a child is born: Come let us adore him. Alleluia.

Christ the King, Yr C

Christ the King Sunday, the ultimate paradox. Christ the King, whose throne is the cross. One of the difficulties for me, and maybe for you, is this paradox. Kingship as we have learned through out history has been much more about tyranny than about justice and mercy. There are two places that I have learned most about the kingship of the cross, and both of course, are stories of metaphor. In, The Horse and His Boy, book 5 in the Narnia series, by C.S. Lewis, King Lune says to his newly found twin son Prince Cor, “For this is what it means to be a king: to be first in every desperate attack and last in every desperate retreat, and when there’s hunger in the land (as must be now and then in bad years) to wear finer clothes and laugh louder over a scantier meal than any man in your land.”

The other place is in a trilogy of stories called collectively The Song of Albion, by Stephen R Lawhead. This is a story about a young man who enters into an alternate world, a world of kings and queens, of quests and wars, an alternate world that is quite related to our own world, what happens in one affects the other. Our main character enters this alternate world through one of the thin places of Celtic mythology. Upon entering, he begins to live a new life with new hopes and dreams. Eventually it becomes clear that he is to be the king of this land. He becomes a king who understands his kingship as constituted by the people, he is only king as much as they are his people. He leads his army into the battles, he gives up his coat, his food, for those of his land that need it. Eventually he comes to the time when he must ultimately put his life down for his people, it brings him great sadness, but he does so out of mercy and compassion.

Is there a king that is recorded in the history books like these kings? As we all know, history books are about the winners, not the kings who gave their lives for their people. Those kings would be regarded as weak, noneffective, and are quickly forgotten.

Christ the King, whose throne is the cross. Jesus, the shepherd through whom we know God. Jesus is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation; for in Jesus all things in heaven and on earth were created. In Jesus all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through Jesus God was pleased to reconcile all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of the cross.

One of the criminals who was hanged there with Jesus said to him “Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!” And it is as if Jesus thought to himself, “I am King of the Jews, but I can’t save myself because I am saving you.” Here is the paradox. This is kingship as presented by God through Jesus. It runs absolutely counter to Messiah as it had been conceived in those times, Messiah as those who waited were prepared for. Messiah, the one who would come with power to put under, put down, put away, all those who already were the oppressors.

Jesus, born in a barn, proclaimed as a King, as Mary’s song proclaims, he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts, he has brought down the powerful from their thrones and lifted up the lowly, he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty. We use Kingly language, like sovereign Lord; we use Kingly images, like Christ who sits on a throne, and yet we also tell the story of the baby born in a stable, to parents who had nothing, who grew to be a man who was thrown out of the temple and whose throne is a cross.

Jesus announced the kingdom of God was drawing near. But Jesus upended and undermined the whole concept of kingship. The world’s kingdoms are about power and prestige; Jesus is about mercy and compassion. The rulers of this world may be about coercion and violence; Jesus’ life was characterized by peace and reconciliation.

I think this paradox of Jesus as King, and Jesus as the one who eats with tax collectors and women, whose closest friends were of bunch of smelly fishermen, is the most difficult image for me to reconcile. I am much more comfortable with the Jesus who wears Birkenstocks and jeans and a tee shirt, than Jesus who wears a crown and a robe. Kings spent all of their time building up riches of gold, silver, and jewels, but Jesus owned nothing at all. Kings surround themselves with servants; Jesus chose to be a servant. But, today, we are asked to hold both images in tension, Christ the kings, whose throne is a cross, and in so doing we see a fuller picture.

Worldly kingship implies power; power over others, authority over people. But Jesus did not exercise this sort of power and authority. Jesus’ power and authority are shared, not possessed. Jesus’ power is not over people, but with and through people. Kingdom is the inbreaking of a new order, an order that doesn’t just drive out the old order, but that reorders all relationships. The criminal hanging on the cross next to Jesus recognized this power and authority, the power and authority to love absolutely, the power and authority to forgive. Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.

Jesus, the one who comes to show us the way to God, Jesus, the one who is King of all creation, is at the very same time the one who lived life just like you and me, who loved his friends and family, who suffered and died, just like you and me. For what good is a God who sits back and watches, what good is a God who rules from afar, what good is a God that holds power over people. Jesus is the one who loves, the criminal who hangs next to him, the mother who cries below him, the friends who betray him.

Kingship for Jesus is giving himself totally and absolutely for the love of his people. It is this love that you and I must respond to. It is this love that is transforming love. It is this love that reconciles and redeems. It is this love that causes us to love ourselves, it is this love that causes us to love one another, it is this love that gives us hope. Jesus’ love changes us.

We are changed through the realization that each one of us is loved completely and absolutely, just like that person on the cross next to Jesus, not for what we’ve done or not done, but for who we are. What kind of change happens in us for us to declare, Jesus, remember me, when you come into your kingdom? It is the kind of change that causes each one of us to know that none of us is in this life alone, and none of us gets out of this life alive. It’s the kind of change that causes us to know that perfection is not the ticket, but love and forgiveness are. It is the kind of change that causes us to serve, like Jesus serves, the person next to us. Whether that person is next to us in our pew here in church, or that person is next to us in line at the grocery store, or that person is the one with whom you disagree most vehemently.

We are changed through the realization that when we fall short of the kind of love Jesus demonstrates for us, and we will fall short, that is part of being human, we are forgiven. Forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing. Forgiveness not just once, but time and time again. Not even just until we get it right, because it’s not about getting it right. Only trying to get it right just makes us into self-righteous snobs. It’s about responding to love in love, and when we don’t, we ask for forgiveness. It’s about responding with love to the encounters along our paths, and when we don’t, we ask for forgiveness.

We begin our Advent journey next week. We begin our preparations for the coming of Christ into our hearts, and into our lives, for all time and all places. We begin our waiting in hope at this place of the cross, and this place of paradox, at this place where kingdom comes, and where love and forgiveness prevail. We begin at the place of remembering, Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom. We begin at the place of forgiveness, today you will be with me in Paradise. We begin at the place of grace, for you are absolutely and abundantly loved.

Amen.

25 Pentecost Yr C

I think the message from Isaiah and from Luke that we hear today is so exciting. From Isaiah we hear for I am about to create new heavens and a new earth, for I am about to create Jerusalem as a joy, and its people as a delight. And in Luke we hear the promise of new life, the promise that whatever happens, whatever has happened, God is creating something new.

We must always remember that these stories are written in hindsight, the writers are looking back at events that have already happened, as is the case with all stories, true or not true. Even science fiction and fantasy, the kind of stories that I like so much, at the very least comment on events that have already happened, for the purpose of proposing what may be, especially if we don’t change our ways.

The writer of Luke is looking back at the destruction of the temple that has already happened, and seeing it through the lens of the promise of fulfillment by God through Jesus in those days and to come. The event that is being described is the destruction of the temple, the temple was the center of the community’s life. Imagine the story you would tell if this church was destroyed. You would remember where you were when you heard the news, you may remember what you were thinking, what you were doing, who you were with. The destruction of anything, especially a building that is central to your faith and your family is a watershed event. It completely redefines all that came before and all that will come after. Nothing is the same, the people are changed, the landscape is changed. This is the report of destruction in the gospel of Luke that we read this morning. The destruction that is reported is an event that was shared by all Jews. It was an event that would have led them to think the world as they knew it was ending. That event happened about 70 years after Christ, and it is being interpreted in Luke in light of the promise of new life. We make a mistake when we think that these are events that are yet to happen.

The gospel writer Luke, writing after these significant events have happened, is telling a story in which Jesus is the main character. And I think what Luke is trying to do is to reassure people of the hope Jesus brings,
he tells people not to panic, not to be afraid. He writes, “you will be hated by all because of my name. But not a hair of your head will perish.” He is saying, yes, it looks and feels like the end must be coming, but don’t panic. Don’t panic in the face of human destruction. Don’t panic about wars and rumors of wars. Don’t panic when the sky itself shows troublesome portents. Don’t panic when Jesus demands that God and our brothers and sisters in Christ take priority over our biological family.

It is tempting to panic. It is tempting to be ruled by our fears. Especially when we hear so much fear. But we are not to be ruled by fears. Jesus is still with us, giving us words to bear witness to his healing and reconciling of the world to himself. We believe that work will be consummated, and God’s will accomplished on earth as it is in heaven. Endure the troubles that will pass; hold on to Jesus’ vision for us and for the world, and we’ll hold on to our souls, our integrity and our destiny. The rulers of this world put on a convincing show of power, but we who know Jesus know what real power is and what it is doing and can accomplish among us.

It is Jesus’ power and Jesus’ power alone, in a world of darkness and violence, in a world of fear that brings light and hope. The world of injustice and hatred has ended, is ending, and will end. Jesus has seen, is seeing, and will see to that. Don’t panic, be not afraid, for the Light has come into the world, and will not be defeated by darkness.

The Light claims our heart and our soul and our mind. At our baptism, we were united with Christ and marked as Christ’s own forever. Every time we come to this table for nourishment we leave fortified, strengthened, we leave with renewed energy. You and I are bearers of the Light. You and I are co-conspirators in God’s plan of bringing Light into a dark world. The challenge of today’s gospel is about not giving into fear and panic, it is about being a Light bearer.

How are you a Light bearer in this world? How do you bring the good news of God in Jesus Christ into the world in which you live?

At work, and at school, in your neighborhood, and even here, your church home, are you a reconciler? Do you bring peace? Are you an advocate for those who are most vulnerable? Do you treat others with dignity and justice, and do you challenge your coworkers and your classmates to treat one another and others with dignity and justice? Are you a good steward of the abundance of God’s creation? Do you welcome the stranger? Do you by your actions point people to hope? Do you treat children as Jesus treats children?

Light bearing in a dark world is a big job, and we all share that responsibility. God’s plan of reconciliation is a big job, and we all have a part to play in it. Fear has no hold on us, for the Light has come into the world.

May we echo with the angels and archangels, Holy, holy, holy is the God who is Love, who is now, who is then, who is forever. Amen.

All Saints Yr C

The Beatitudes are very familiar to us, although, we may not be aware that there are two versions of them, this one from Luke, and the one in Matthew, they are very similar. I have trouble understanding the Beatitudes. It’s hard because the blessings don’t seem like blessings, being poor, hungry and weeping. The woes don’t seem much like woes, being rich, full and laughing. The problem is that they aren’t really clearly blessings and woes, what they are is much more about where we place our trust, in whom we place our trust and who and what we worship.

I think the Beatitudes in Luke are about what gets in the way of our trust in and worship of God. I think these Beatitudes are about idolatry, whether it’s blessing or trouble. I think the Beatitudes are about how the stuff in our lives clogs our lives and gets us stuck. When we concede to the seduction of the culture of greed, the culture of fame, the culture of consuming, we transfer our trust in God to trust in something other than God, and when we do that, we put idols before God. When we concede to the culture of self-absorption, and the culture of happiness, we put idols before God.

This is nothing new, the stories of idol worship go back as far as Genesis, when Adam and Eve transferred their trust in God to their own self-importance they were kicked out of the Garden. When the Israelites wandered in the wilderness for 40 years, they transferred their trust in God to trusting themselves and they had nothing to eat. When the Hebrew people transferred their trust in God to the empty rituals of sacrificing animals their temple was destroyed.

Let’s take a look at these blessings and troubles one by one, and see if we can identify the idols, the stuff of our lives, that get us stuck and clogged up. The language we’re hearing is from Eugene Peterson’s translation in The Message.

You’re blessed when you’ve lost it all, God’s kingdom is there for the finding. Sure doesn’t seem like a blessing. We hear stories of people losing everything, in fire or in flood. You all have stories of people you know who have lost much due to fire or flood. When people lose home and possessions in fire or flood, when they are left with nothing, it is at that very time, when there is nothing between them and God, that their relationship with God may be at it’s strongest. So often it is what we perceive as loss that brings us to our knees, it is these times when our relationship with God is most pure.

You’re blessed when you’re ravenously hungry, then you’re ready for the messianic meal. You and I rarely go hungry, and if we do it is often because of poor planning rather than any real need for food. It is hard when we are so well fed to imagine coming to this table hungry, hungry for relationship, hungry for connection to God and to others. But each time we come to this table we are satisfied. And not merely with the meal of bread and wine, but with the meal that is Jesus, the meal that satisfies all of our longings, the meal that fulfills all of our hopes.

Count yourself blessed every time someone cuts you down or throws you out. What it means is that truth is too close for comfort. When we become too smug and too sure of our rightness, we are sure to be cut down a notch. It is then that we can see the truth. It is in our humility that we can see God clearly. It is in our humility that we begin to be compassionate and know the truth of the other.

It’s trouble ahead if you’re satisfied with yourself, your self will not satisfy you for long. It’s not about you, it’s about God. You’ve got to keep the main thing, the main thing. It’s never about how great a Christian any of us is, how much we give or how much we serve. It’s not about how important you are, how big your house is, how great your grades are, how talented you are. It’s about God’s abundant love for you and for all of us together. Satisfaction comes from God.

And it’s trouble ahead if you think life’s all fun and games. There’s suffering to be met, and you’re going to meet it. There is no truer statement. The reality of our lives is suffering and pain, along with joy and celebration. You know this. Jesus didn’t live this life to take the suffering away, Jesus lived this live to accompany us in the midst of the suffering, to walk by our side, to be our guide, to suffer with us.

There’s trouble ahead when you live only for the approval of others, popularity contests are not truth contests. Your task is to be true, not popular. That’s one we can all write down and post on our mirrors, or our desks, or someplace where we see it daily. Your task is to be true, not popular. Jesus shows us and teaches us the truth, the truth of our lives. And the truth is about trusting God to be God, Emmanuel, God with us, the One who created us, and is in our midst, the one to whom we sing Holy Holy Holy and who accompanies us through our joys and sorrows, the one who loves us no matter what, especially when we are feeling like there is nothing left to be loved, the one who we call Father and promises to be connected to us, when we feel isolated from everyone around us. The One who lived, suffered and died, and rose again to new life, so that we may be made new.

The Beatitudes call us away from idolatry, they call us to examine the stuff of our lives and to get unclogged. The Beatitudes call us away from idolatry and toward servanthood. And it is the Beatitudes that we hear on this All Saints Day. But remember, your task is to be true, not popular. Your task is to be faithful, not a saint. If we get caught up in being a saint, we are a long way from being a servant.

Today we baptize Isaiah, Isaac and Tiana. Today we reaffirm our own baptism promises. Isaiah, Isaac and Tiana, and all the rest of us, remember who you are this day, remember who came before you this day, and remember who comes after you, God was, is, and always will be. Every day, God is worthy to be praised.

Thanks be to God.
Amen.

23 Pentecost Yr C

Imagine, It was a day like many other days in Jericho.
Hot. The kind of hot where just standing makes you sweat.
Dry. The kind of dry where your throat feels two pieces of sandpaper.
Dusty. The kind of dusty that when the sweat drips off your brow
you get muddy rivers in the cracks of your face.

It was a day unlike many other days in Jericho. There was a murmur swelling into a roar about the prophet Jesus who was traveling through town on his way to Jerusalem. All the men were shuffling in the heat of the day into the village square, near the well, to catch a glimpse of Jesus. The women and children remained near the back of the growing crowd, and Zacchaeus tried to blend in with them.

Zacchaeus was a tax collector. Zacchaeus accepted the fact that people in his village shunned him. Zacchaeus himself thought he was doing only what his job asked of him. He called on the townspeople and collected the Roman tax, well, plus a little bit for himself and a little bit more for his employer. But Zacchaeus also gave half of all of that to the poor, and, if he did get caught cheating, he did what the Hebrew law asked of him, he paid back four times as much. In addition to his sleazy profession, he was also admittedly diminutive, short in stature as some might say. People seemed to look right through him, sometimes right over him; he often had the feeling that he was invisible.

But on this day, he decided to run ahead of the hot and sweaty crowd to the village square, and knowing that he could not see through their backs, he decided to find a better vantage point for viewing the commotion. There was a sycamore tree that gave some shade to the well, and Zacchaeus climbed into it. He made himself comfortable, and from there was able to observe the commotion quite well.

People gathered and buzzed about Jesus, the one who is coming. Zacchaeus had heard about this Jesus. They said he was a prophet, they said he was a teacher, a rabbi; they said he was a healer. He had just healed a blind man, he had healed lepers.
But they also said he was radical, that he once told a rich man that in order to follow him he would have to sell all that he owned and give his money to the poor. Imagine that, thought Zacchaeus, why would you even want to follow this guy, he surely didn’t have any power. And the story about that other tax collector, the one who asked for mercy, mercy for what? Doing his job, and making money?

Zacchaeus sat in the sycamore tree, pondering these stories that he’d been told about Jesus, when he heard someone yelling up at him. “Zacchaeus, Zacchaeus, come down here, I’m coming over to your house to eat and stay awhile.” The others were calling out to Jesus, “Jesus, Jesus, come to my house to eat, but it was Zacchaeus that Jesus was talking to. Zacchaeus felt a thrill of excitement that this man whom everyone wanted to come to their house, had just invited himself over to Zacchaeus’ house. For a moment Zacchaeus worried about what his wife was going to do when he brought Jesus home with him, but decided this was about his good luck and his wife would understand.

Besides, Zacchaeus noticed that everyone else was indignant and annoyed that Jesus was coming to his house, and Zacchaeus liked the attention he received. They all were grumbling that Jesus had no business with this crook, but Zacchaeus had for so long listened to the condemning comments that the townspeople made toward him, and had so long been treated like scum, that he was overjoyed to have this man at his house.

In the middle of that crowd of people Jesus looked right up at Zacchaeus. At that moment, Zacchaeus felt as if Jesus knew exactly who he was. Zacchaeus had spent his life hiding from people. The only way he could do his work was to keep people at a distance, to steer clear of relationships with his neighbors. If he ever developed relationships with people, there’s no way he ever would have made any money, how do you extort money from people if you actually like them, and you let them like you?

Zacchaeus had spent his life being overlooked by people too. Alienation and isolation were the result of being looked at like he was less than a man. Most folks dismissed him before ever finding out about him. Who knew that he gave so much of his wealth away? Who knew that he took only his due, that he didn’t intend to cheat, and if he did, he paid it back fourfold. Who knew that he had a wife and kids? Who knew that he had been climbing trees his whole life. Who really knew Zacchaeus? Sometimes, he thought his wife didn’t even really know him. But the minute Jesus looked into his eyes, he knew, and Zacchaeus was changed. Zacchaeus was called away from himself, when Jesus calls you can’t stay in the same place.

Zacchaeus climbed like a monkey, and he quickly alighted on the ground under the tree, so as not to give this man any time to change his mind. Together they made their way to Zacchaeus’ home, through the crowd, with everyone looking at Zacchaeus with disbelief, how could Jesus even consider going to the home with that tax collector?

Upon entering Zacchaeus’ home, Zacchaeus, being the good Jew that he was, washed Jesus’ feet, and offered him something cool to drink and good to eat. Zacchaeus and Jesus talked, just like they’d been old friends, meeting again after a long time apart, (Zacchaeus had to chuckle, since he had no old friends) but not missing a beat.

It was almost as if Jesus had looked into his soul and knew him for his entire lifetime, and for who he was. A good man, a good Jew, but a man nonetheless, whose tendency toward sin pulled him hard and away from what he knew was right.

The meal they shared together that day was a meal he would not soon forget. After Jesus left, every time Zacchaeus came back to his table to eat, he remembered Jesus sitting there. He remembered what it was like to be known by Jesus, to be completely and absolutely himself, not puffing himself up like he usually did with others to try to pretend he was taller or bigger.

Every time Zacchaeus came back to that table he remembered what it was like to no longer feel alienated and isolated. Every time Zacchaeus came back to that table he remembered what it was like to have a friend like Jesus. Every time Zacchaeus came back to the table he remembered that salvation had come to his house, because he too was a son of Abraham. No longer was he lost, no longer was he afraid, no longer was he alone.

Amen.