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.

 

Twenty-First Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 24 Yr B Oct 17 2021

Twenty-First Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 24 Yr B Oct 17 2021

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

 

Teacher, we have something we want you to do for us, James and John ask Jesus. Arrange it, they say, so that we will be awarded the highest places of honor in your glory - one of us at your right, the other at your left. James and John ask Jesus for something Jesus has shown no desire to give, placing some above others. Or giving some more or better attention. But James and John are not ill-informed or ignorant. They’ve witnessed Jesus’ miracles and listened to his teachings. James and John are doing what humans do best, hoping and praying that the world has not and will not change as much as it already has and as much as they know it will. But there is no return for James and John to what once was after the heavens were ripped apart. There is no going back to life before the storm. 

 

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

 

For James and John and the other disciples, and for us, there is no going back to life before the storm. But we try. And we have been trying. Hoping and praying that the last twenty months are a mere blip in our shared life. That everything will return to normal when this is all over. Even a bump along this road of declining church attendance. We are more like James and John than we care to admit. We fall back on what we know—what’s comfortable; how the world always worked. The “used to be’s”. For James and John, that meant glory as hierarchy and power as prestige. For the 21^st-century church, it’s no different, with a bushel of denial of the truth and a doubling down on a kind of privilege our culture never should have exercised in the first place.

 

But the world changed for James and John. Jesus went to the cross. The world has changed for us. What once was, is not working anymore. We know that. Deep in our hearts and souls. And we don’t know how to fix it. There is no going back to life before the storm.

 

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

 

Aren’t we a lot like James and John though? If Jesus were anything like me, and thank goodness he’s not, Jesus would say to James and John, since when did you think this was about you? Since when did you think this is about your power, your prestige, your privilege? It’s about Jesus’ love for us, and we are God’s beloveds. It’s about Jesus’ call to us to love our neighbor. Have we lost our way? We get frightened or confused about our calling as citizens of God’s kingdom, and we forget who Jesus is.

 

Jesus’ love for us, God’s beloveds, washes over all of us no matter what. The call that James and John seem to be missing is right there in front of them, and is really good news, whoever wants to be great must become a servant. In the household of God, no one can claim privilege of place; we are all adopted children by our baptism. Jesus asks James and John if they are willing to dive into the water with him. "The cup that I drink you will drink; and with the baptism with which I am baptized, you will be baptized." Jesus’ journey in the gospel of Mark began in the waters of the Jordan, in baptism, and that journey will be to the cross and resurrection. The grace in this story is that Jesus is the one who comes and shows the way of love, Jesus shows the way of vulnerability all the way to the cross. You see, speaking and acting in terms of who deserves what, who deserves health care or housing or hospitality, who deserves eternal life, who deserves to be on Jesus’ right hand, are so beside the point. The grace in this story is that Jesus, with his very life, death, and resurrection, puts himself in our place, in your place, and in my place, and says, everyone of you is worth my love.

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

 

You are God’s beloved. You are baptized into Jesus' life, suffering, death, and resurrection. Taking Jesus' cup is about diving into the waters of our own baptism, waters that bring the dead to life, waters that fill an empty soul, waters that give a heart the only thing worth living, and worth dying for. We get completely wet in these holy waters. There is grace in diving into the waters of baptism, and receiving the unconditional, undeserved, underrated love that is God’s love. When we take the cup that Jesus drinks, when we are washed with the waters of baptism, we, God’s beloveds, are called to respond to Jesus’ love, with love. We are called not to the seat of power, but to the posture of service. And our lives are made new, our lives are transformed, our lives become the wave of change. The wave of change, the wave of love, the wave of mercy, the wave of kindness. 

 

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

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

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

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

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

 

1 Lent Yr B Feb 21 2021

YouTube video

1 Lent Yr B Feb 21 2021

Genesis 9:8-17, 1 Peter 3:18-22, Mark 1:9-15, Psalm 25:1-9

 

And the walls come a tumblin down. That’s what’s happening here, God’s tumblin the walls. God’s removing any barriers between God and creation, God and humanity, God and us. This is Good News isn’t it? It also means that God is loose in our world. That may be a bit stickier. Because if God is loose in our world, it means that something is afoot, and that something may very well call us into something new, something wild, something not quite as orderly as we are used to.

 

How do we know God is loose in the world? Let’s take a look at what Mark has to say. When Jesus, who is God in our midst, was coming up out of the water after being baptized by John, the heavens were torn apart – that is something to pay attention to, and the Spirit descended into him, and a voice from the heavens said, “You are my son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

 

There’s a lot going on here, but in this short piece we get the point. God is on the move. Once the heavens are torn apart, you can’t undo that. God is loose. There’s another place that we hear the heavens are torn apart. Can you remember when? I’ll help you. At the crucifixion, in Mark that is chapter 15 verse 38 “and the curtain of the temple was torn in two.” This is not just dramatic staging or an opportunity for wondrous computer generated imagery. This means that God is loose. And this is a huge change for those who always understood that God was contained in the ark of the covenant and later in the holy of holies. When history gets to the story of Jesus, it had been a long, long time that anyone had heard from God.  The Jewish people believed that prophecy had ceased with the last prophets but that it would be restored at the end-times (Malachi 4:5-6). The heavens had “closed,” as it were, and there was no direct communication from God to humankind anymore. That Mark says that the heavens were torn apart is a daring affirmation. That the Spirit descended and entered into Jesus is even more so. Here we have an absolutely revolutionary claim: the God of Israel is speaking again and has chosen to do it through a humble peasant from Galilee! So God showing up changes everything. God descending into Jesus changes everything. God is on the loose. You and I may not be hearing God’s voice, but rest assured, something is afoot, God is moving about, and there is no putting God back in the box.

 

For whom is God on the move? For whom is God loosed? That question can be answered with location, location, location. This is the beginning of Mark’s gospel, John is not in the power center, in the city or even in the village, John is out in the countryside, in the wilderness, on the margins, baptizing people. And after a long time of no God sightings, God is present. This is remarkable. It is remarkable that God shows up, and that God shows up outside of the city center, outside of the seat of power. You see, the messiah for whom the Hebrew people wait was a messiah who would sit on the throne and make everything right. But that’s not the messiah this story shows us. Jesus is out in the wilderness with John. John who eats locusts and wild honey, John who is an oddly likable character. Jesus doesn’t show up to solidify power, Jesus shows up to enfranchise those who have been tossed out, to restore those, women particularly, who have been tossed to the side because they are unattached to a man, and to heal those who have been tossed out like trash. 

 

Jesus goes from being baptized in the river to being tempted in the wilderness. 

 

Why is all this curtain tearing, Spirit entering, wilderness living, so important for us? God is tearing down walls, boundaries are being breached, borders are being crossed. That is who God is. It challenges our want and desire to define God, to determine what God can and cannot do, who God can and cannot love. God is the God of outrageous, uncontainable love. 

 

But this God who bursts into our lives, this God who is on the loose, this God who breaks boundaries and borders, calls us to see the rupture and hear the voice that is in our midst, maybe even calls us to wonder about the rupture we have experienced in our own lives. And God invites us to see the world from the margins of society. God invites us to see the world through and around the barriers we have built and that must come a tumblin down. 

 

Dear friends, God is still at work, still proclaiming the good news. God is still calling us to follow Jesus. Are we willing to drop so much of what passes for normal and expected in order to follow in the way of Jesus? God sees us as God saw Jesus on his baptismal day, beloved. 

 

Lent is a season of intention. This Lenten season is not the same ol lent. This Lenten season comes to us as we continue to persevere in this time of pandemic. This Lenten season comes to us as the racial and socio-economic disparities in our country have been so clearly revealed. God sees us as worthy of God’s attention, as capable of great things, as called and equipped to be Jesus’ followers in this new and challenging year of our Lord, 2021.

 

We cannot go back, we cannot put God back in the box. We must follow Jesus to outrageous faith and possibility. We cannot put back together that which cannot be mended. We must meet Jesus on the margins, in the wilderness, and turn in a new direction, believing and trusting that, indeed, God is with us and for us. 

 

And let us be blessed by the angels, the angels that cared for Jesus in the wilderness, the angels that care for the lonely of our church and our community, the angels that tirelessly care for the sick, the angels that deliver food and water to those whose homes are torn apart in the cold, the angels that care nothing for boundaries and barriers but who carry the love that wins to the margins.

 

Amen. 

First Sunday of Epiphany Yr A Jan 12, The Baptism of Our Lord

Audio   First Sunday of Epiphany Yr A Jan 12, The Baptism of Our Lord

Isaiah 42:1-9, Acts 10:34-43, Matthew 3:13-17, Psalm 29

Listen to Matthew from Eugene Peterson’s translation in The Message. Jesus then appeared, arriving at the Jordan River from Galilee. He wanted John to baptize him. John objected, "I'm the one who needs to be baptized, not you!" But Jesus insisted. "Do it. God's work, putting things right all these centuries, is coming together right now in this baptism." So John did it. The moment Jesus came up out of the baptismal waters, the skies opened up and Jesus saw God's Spirit—it looked like a dove—descending and landing on him. And along with the Spirit, a voice: "This is my Son, chosen and marked by my love, delight of my life."

In both the passage from Isaiah and the passage from Matthew we hear God’s voice proclaiming you are my chosen, delight of my life. Today, the day that we celebrate Jesus’ baptism we hear these amazing words from God, you are chosen and marked by my love, delight of my life.

Some of us spend much of our lives working at pleasing others, especially our parents and our spouse, people we work for, and sometimes even people we don’t even know. Rather than being who we are, we are trying to be someone else. Someone more lovable, someone smarter, someone prettier, someone more athletic. This is reinforced by so much we see and hear today. You will be worth more if you are thinner, or if you change the look of your nose, or cheeks, or lips, or other places, or if you buy a smart phone, or if you buy skinny jeans, or if you …..

Or, the other option is to spend our lives on the other end of that spectrum. We think we should get what we deserve, we are entitled to a good life, nothing should get in our way of the big beautiful house, the fancy car, the perfect children. These stories our culture tells are all about human limitations, and human values. But God is not limited by our worthiness or our worthlessness. God is pleased, before anything else happens, God is pleased, and that is not dependent on anything we do or don’t do. Remember, following this passage in Matthew’s story is Jesus’ temptation in the wilderness. God’s pleasure is not even dependent on Jesus’ performance in the wilderness, God’s pleasure just is.

We are loved abundantly and extravagantly, we are chosen and marked by God’s love, we are the delight of God’s life. We enter into that with Jesus in the incarnation, and in the death and in the resurrection. And that is what happens in baptism, because that’s what Jesus accomplishes on the cross and what God accomplishes in the resurrection. We are citizens, heirs, children of the Kingdom, and in this Kingdom we are loved, we are chosen, we are marked, we are the delight of God’s life. We don’t have to change the way we look, we don’t have to be someone we are not, we are priceless.

We are in the midst of celebrating God’s incarnation. I’ve thrown that word around quite a bit lately as if we all know exactly what it means. Incarnation is about God shining God’s clear, bright torch into the darkness of our world, our lives, our hearts, our imaginations—and the darkness not comprehending it. Incarnation is God, the God of the universe, the God who creates all things, the God who is seen and unseen, that God, taking on flesh, taking on skin, and bones, a brain, a heart. It is incarnation that gives me faith; it is resurrection that gives me hope. Jesus is what it looks like when the Word becomes flesh. Or, if you like, look at Jesus, in the flesh and learn to see the living God.

It is that incarnation, and it is death and resurrection that we enter into at Baptism. It is that incarnation, God in the flesh, the Word walking around on our dirt and in our mud, which makes faith possible. I have faith because God has faith in me; why else would God have given up all power to come into this world as a human being. My baptism, your baptism, acknowledges that reality, and baptism empowers us through the Holy Spirit, to be God’s new creation, to be the Light in the darkness, to be agents of healing and reconciliation in our fragmented and fragile world.

When we enter into this journey through the water with Jesus, we must go home by another way; we hear that from the wise people from the east. When we go home by another way, when we are baptized into the life, the death, and the resurrection of Jesus, when we embark on this path together as pilgrims on the way, our lives begin to be transformed, and there are ways that our lives show forth God’s love and Jesus’ gift. We are people who continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of bread, and in the prayers. We are people who persevere in resisting evil, and whenever we fall into sin, we repent and return to the Lord. We are people who proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ. We are people who seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbor as ourselves. We are people who strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being.

That’s a tall order for us. But it’s the road we take. We take it, because we are marked and chosen, and we are the delight of God’s life. It is our response to God’s amazing, extravagant and abundant love, it is our response to God’s pleasure, and it is our ministry.

We acknowledge Jesus’ baptism by John on this day, and it gives us cause to remember our own baptism. Each one of us has been marked as Christ’s own forever. Each of us has an indelible mark on our foreheads, the cross that was traced in oil at our baptism, the cross that is retraced in ashes each lent. The cross that is on our foreheads is much like a tattoo, it is permanent, it’s there for all time. It reminds us who we are and whose we are. It reminds us that we are loved. It reminds us that we are part of something that is wider, broader, deeper, than any one of us, can go. It reminds us that we must travel this other way, this road together.

Jesus’ baptism, our baptism’s mean something. We don’t just dunk and forget. Baptism means that we are the delight of God’s life, that we are loved abundantly and absolutely, that we are chosen and marked, that we are on this road together, and that we are citizens of the Kingdom, the Kingdom that God is creating right here, right now. We have work to do, that is our ministry. Our work is about healing and reconciliation, our work is about mercy and compassion, our work is about making God known in all the dark and dangerous parts of our lives. Our work is about meeting Jesus in each and every person we encounter, our work is about seeing the indelible mark of Christ on the forehead of each and every person we meet.

So today, as we celebrate the baptism of Jesus, we will remember and renew our own baptism.

6 Easter Yr C May 26 2019

Audio  6 Easter Yr C May 26 2019 Acts 16:9-15, Revelation 21:10, 22-22:5, John 5:1-9, Psalm 67

I love the long, warm days of summer. But those days are preceded by these days, we’ve just had, rainy and chilly. And yet, we're always so very thankful for the moisture, that turns the grass green and puts the trees into a flowering frenzy. All of this rain gives life to our world, but as we know, all that moisture is life-taking as well. Flooding and storms and tornados are always difficult to watch especially when we are just so thankful for the moisture. 

These rains and the water that brings forth new life, remind me of my baptism. And you have come to know me well, so making that connection should not surprise you! I am reminded that I have been joined with Jesus in the life and death of the baptismal waters. I am reminded that we are in a constant process of life, death and resurrection. I am reminded that God is never finished with me, that there is always another layer to be shed, another washing, another opportunity. There is forgiveness and healing, and that always leads to new growth and new life. And, the baby ducks are always born in flocks and travel together. 

“Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb through the middle of the street of the city. On either side of the river is the tree of life with its twelve kinds of fruit, producing its fruit of each month; and the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations.”

The book of Revelation was born out of a time when people who followed Jesus had to live under cover. Worship of the many different gods was proscribed and licensed by the Roman Empire. Following Jesus was not an official form of worship, therefore many were thrown in prison or put to death. The book of Revelation gave hope in that context, and describes the community that Jesus has set up on earth that is an alternative to empire. These were people who would gather and sing songs to God and to the lamb, to share stories and to break bread in remembrance of Jesus’ death and resurrection. They came together around a radical and transforming vision of the joyful reign of God.

In this letter from John this community heard a call to faithfulness, a call to renew their love for one another. They heard the promise that they would be victorious, provided that they resist the seductions of the empire. I reminded you last week that the signs and portents of revelation worked to wake up the people to change, to wake them up so that they could resist the seductions of the empire. 

The vision of Revelation gathers the community together beside God’s riverside, to drink of its water of life, to find shelter beside God’s majestic tree of life with its healing leaves. As you read these verses in Revelation chapters 21-22, imagine yourself walking into this city through its open gates, exploring the landscape that the angel unfolds before you. You are safe at last. You are beloved.

I began today with my story of being reminded of my baptism and being reminded of new life and resurrection because those experiences bring me to a place where I can imagine this reality that John describes for us. However, I know that the truth of our lives here and now is that the seductions are powerful. The seduction of greed, of exclusion, and of self-importance is powerful indeed. Chapter 21 in Revelation speaks specifically to the healing of all nations through the leaves of the tree of life. There is much in Revelation that some have used to dominate others and to create a culture of fear. The concept that some know as the rapture is clearly a misinterpretation of the message of Revelation. The call to transformation and to reconciliation and healing is clear in Revelation. The call to turn away from violence, to turn away from greed, to turn away from exclusion, to turn toward peace, to turn toward generosity, to turn toward inclusion is mighty powerful. God’s holy city provides enough food for all, in God’s holy city all hunger is satisfied. 

Given this interpretation of Revelation, that revelation offers hope and freedom, nourishment and sustenance in a culture of greed, violence, and narcissism, I ask you this question. How does this speak to your deepest hunger? How does this speak to the deepest hunger of our world? I think we spend our lives yearning and searching for nourishment, for something that resembles the holy city that is described in Revelation. Our search takes us by way of false nourishment. We look for satisfaction in places that can only offer us momentary delight. But when we look away from God to satisfy our hunger, we continue to go away hungry.

How can you go home, and to work and to school this week, remembering that you are swimming in the water of God’s love, that you are fed with the love that sustains you? And how can you share this amazing hope in which people of every tribe are included? I think we do that by being compassionate. With our families, with our friends, with our neighbors.

Gathered at the riverside, God’s people, you and I, have tasted life-giving water and manna from heaven. We have glimpsed God’s beloved city. Because of that, everything is different now. Everything and everyone is precious. The challenge is to live our lives according to the story of God’s beloved city, to live in terms of its blessing. We live in freedom, not enslaved by the need to please and perform, but fully and absolutely and abundantly loved by the God who created us, who came into our world to live, suffer, and die as one of us, who rose from the dead, and lives among us, and who will come again to reign here in the company of the creation. 

We live our lives connected to one another. Barbara Rossing reminds us near the end of her book, The Rapture Exposed, that Revelation’s story is about seeing the Lamb beside you in every moment of your life, in the car, at the shopping mall, at work and at school. We might call that Lamb, the Love that wins. Revelation is about looking more deeply into God’s picture and seeing how the Lamb, the Love that wins, is leading you even now into a world of joy and healing. 

And next time you are washed in the rain, next time you witness new birth, remember who you are, God's beloved, equipped and sent to love others. 

Thanks be to God. Amen, Alleluia.