Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost, Yr B, Proper 16, Aug 22 2021

Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost, Yr B, Proper 16, Aug 22 2021

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

 

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

 

Do we do that too? Do we ever say, following Jesus is just too hard? Do we ever say, this teaching is difficult; this one I’ll just pretend isn’t there? I do sometimes, many do, sometimes, some, all the time. I do think this is difficult, following Jesus is hard, but we can do hard things. So today let’s take a look at what Jesus asks of us. Let’s take a look at how Jesus empowers us to be followers. Let’s take a look at how Jesus fills us with food, nourishment, life, so that we may have new life. Let’s take a look at how Jesus abides in us.

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

 

It’s important for us to remember that John’s story is told many years after Jesus lived, suffered, died, resurrected, and ascended. John finds it very hard to understand that anyone who has an encounter with the story of Jesus would not believe that Jesus is indeed God in the flesh, the incarnate one. John shows us the truth of who Jesus is by showing us the signs that Jesus did, turning water into wine, healing the woman who bled for years, healing the man who was ill for 38 years, feeding 5000 people, healing the man blind from birth, and raising Lazarus from the dead. So the disciples make the statement we are thinking in our heads. This is hard, not only to wrap our minds around, but to open our hearts, and to follow.

 

What makes it so hard? Maybe because we didn’t see it ourselves or hear it ourselves. And it is very apparent in our lives today that nothing and no one can be trusted and that facts are not really facts at all. The trouble in our world is that talk about being faithful rather than successful is all foolishness. You all know this. You all have experienced this. Talk about things not seen makes your sanity suspect. Commitment to gathering in Jesus’ name, prayer and study makes your priorities questionable in some circles. And abiding in Jesus’ real presence in bread and wine, body and blood, is foolish.

 

So many in leadership positions rely on their own perceived power and get into a heap of trouble. In all walks of life we see people who have come to believe that they are above or beyond being accountable to anyone, to their constituency, to us.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

We have lost the sense of awe. Everything is awesome, but not filled with awe. Jesus, really present in the bread and the wine, the body and the blood, fills us with fear, with awe. How can this be? This is really hard, and somewhat scary. Jesus abides in us, Jesus calls us into relationship, Jesus nourishes us. Because when we are filled with Jesus, filled with bread and wine, body and blood, we are changed, we are transformed, and we are deepened, we are made into who God means for us to be. It is this, abiding presence that empowers us to let go of and to lay down our burdens, our addictions, our worries, and being made into the new creation of God’s dream. And letting go is hard, giving up power, and the illusion of control is hard, but you can do hard things.

 

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

 

Risen lord, be know to us in the breaking of the bread. Lord Jesus, abide in us, as we love one another. Amen.

 

Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost Yr B Proper 15 Aug 15 2021

Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost Yr B Proper 15 Aug 15 2021

1 Kings 2:10-12; 3:3-14, Psalm 111, Ephesians 5:15-20, John 6:51-58

 

When my mom died, we spent some time going through her things of course, and I went through her recipe box. I looked at and read many of her recipes, some I remembered with fondness, others were forgettable. I took pictures of some, the ones in her handwriting, and places where she had taken notes about changes to the recipe. I have her pie crust recipe, with the corners and the edges of the paper all folded and ripped. It's a little like talking to her about it. Kathy, if the air is dry you need a little more flour, or for the lefse recipe, if the potatoes are a little moist, just throw in a little extra flour. A recipe is not just a recipe, it's a story, a story of how it used to be, or a story of scarcity that proves to be abundance. My mom was the queen at being able to make a pound of ground beef feed a family of ten. Isn’t that the way it usually happens, you go looking for a good recipe, and in return you get wisdom, maybe it also happens the other way around too, you share a good recipe, and you share a bit of wisdom as well. 

 

We have the same pairing in our readings today, wisdom and good food; maybe there is not one without the other. Wisdom in scripture is not just about being wise, as opposed to being foolish; God has built wisdom into the fabric of the cosmos. And we learn from wisdom that there are certain ways of living in which people thrive, and other ways of living which lead people to death. Ordering your life to wisdom is what we read about in these scripture passages today. We've been reading through the story of David, from shepherd to king, from young boy to powerful and maybe foolish man. The story is continued today in Kings. King David’s son Solomon is now on the throne, at the ripe old age of 12. You and I know that Solomon is famous for being wise, and it is already evidenced at this young age in his prayer to God, give your servant an understanding mind to govern your people, able to discern between good and evil. In Ephesians we hear about wisdom as right living, be careful then how you live, not as unwise people but as wise. Do not be foolish, but understand what the will, which also may be translated desire, understand what the desire of the Lord is. Sing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs among yourselves, giving thanks to God the father at all times and for everything in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ. 

 

One of the marks of following Jesus is intentionality and spiritual practice. A mistake is made when people, Christians and others, think morality is the marker. It is not. I believe that intentionality, spiritual practice and our prayer together, or common prayer, forms us into the people who God desires us to be, who God dreams we can be. Not a perfect people, but a wise people, a people who can love one another. Paul’s words for the Ephesians are about wisdom as right living, and that God’s desire for us, God’s people, is to live wisely.

 

In John’s gospel, the wisdom tradition is applied to Jesus; Jesus now is the embodiment of wisdom. We continue to hear about the living bread, the bread that is Jesus. John is making a claim about the radical presence of God in Jesus, essentially John is saying that in Jesus, God provides everything; God’s abundance is made real in Jesus. We are invited to be present in God’s bounty. We are invited to feast on wisdom; we are invited to eternal life, all contained in this loaf of bread. 

 

God has built wisdom into the fabric of the cosmos. Ordering our lives to wisdom brings abundant and bountiful life. Jesus is the embodiment of wisdom, and therefore not only do we feast on wisdom we feast on Jesus. Ordinary bread and our ordinary lives are made extraordinary by God’s abundant love.

 

I am reminded of the movie Chocolat. The story is about a young mother who with her young daughter blow into a rural French village on the first Sunday of Lent. She opens a chocolate shop and prepares amazing confections that seem to transform those who eat them. She has opposition however by those in the town who live by a certain set of rules, a morality, that doesn’t allow for the ordinary pleasure of chocolate, most especially during Lent. 

 

Our main character in the movie dispenses wisdom along with chocolate and other confections. Entering her chocolate shop through the ordinary front door results in extraordinary nourishment. And yet, there remain those who will not cross the threshold for fear of what may happen and how they may be changed. 

 

We are changed by the ordinary bread, into an extraordinary community. We are changed by the wisdom feast into the body of Christ teeming with extraordinary life. We are changed as we abide in the flesh and blood of Jesus. This is as clear as Jesus can possibly get, whoever eats me will live. Wise or foolish, that is the reality. And that reality is scary to some, some will not cross the threshold into love because it changes them. 

 

The call to follow Jesus is a call to a foolish life of love. To follow Jesus is to believe that ordinary bread is made extraordinary, that it can fill you up and heal your heart. To follow Jesus is to practice the intentionality of love, even when you don't feel like it. To follow Jesus is to buck the conventional wisdom that the first will be first and the last will be last, it is to be fools for Christ and witness that the first will be last, and the last will be first. To follow Jesus is to let the truth that loves wins, take hold of your heart and your mind.

 

Following Jesus takes practice, it takes foolishness and wisdom, it takes brokenness and healing, it takes listening to our mistakes, like King David had to listen to Nathan, and it takes forgiveness. Following Jesus is hard in this world where money and power seem to matter more than wisdom and love. Following Jesus means walking the road together, and sharing some bread along the way, oh, and some chocolate too. 

 

Following Jesus is to take into ourselves the very foolishness of flesh and blood, following Jesus is to practice loving our neighbor with intentionality and wisdom, following Jesus means that we will be changed. Following Jesus means receiving grace upon grace.

Thanks be to God!

Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost Yr B Proper 14 Aug 8 2021

Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost Yr B Proper 14 Aug 8 2021

2 Samuel 18:5-9, 15, 31-33, Psalm 130, Ephesians 4:25-5:2, John 6:35, 41-51

 

This portion of the Bread of Life discourse reminds me of some of the rhetoric that is carried on in some circles today. Who do we listen to? The experts, or sketchy shared stories on Facebook? That rhetoric has diminished some experts that we really need to listen to. I’m not saying we always defer to experts, that would disempower those of us who write, or sing, or dance just for fun. But in many things, it is important to listen to the experts. 

 

Jesus is the expert here, and Jesus says, I am the bread of life that came down from heaven. Jesus then says, do not complain among yourselves, the father draws you through love, and I will raise that person up on the last day. The people in this story want to diminish Jesus, “isn’t he just Joseph’s and Mary’s son? We know them, they live here in the neighborhood, Jesus can’t be who he claims to be.” But over and over Jesus continues to point them to the truth. “I am the living bread that came down from heaven.” Jesus reminds them of the manna their forebears ate in the wilderness, Jesus reminds them that that nourishment came from God. And Jesus shows them that now, Jesus is making a direct connection between himself and God. 

 

Let’s take a look. Listen again to verse 35, where we begin today and where we ended last week. Jesus said to them, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.” As you hear this what you might be reminded of is Jesus and the woman at the well. In that story Jesus says, “those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty. The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.” Jesus is building, bread crumb by bread crumb, the truth that he is this living water, this bread of life. Jesus is the source of this abundance. Jesus is I AM, God in our midst. No one has ever seen God, except for the Son. Jesus is saying “in me you see God.” What John the gospel writer does is to heap grace upon grace as the disciples and us are led to the place where deep in our hearts and souls we take Jesus in.

 

But the disciples see but do not trust. They are not unlike those Facebook posters who ignore the science in favor of what the guy down the street or Aunt Harriet has to say. And the people begin to complain, just like the wilderness wanderers complained that they were hungry, and the food God gave them wasn’t good enough. Jesus is trying to move the disciples, and the onlookers, and you and me deeper into the reality that is abundantly offered, because in this relationship with Jesus there is eternal life, salvation, belief, love, grace. 

 

We often define “eternal life” as our future resurrected life in heaven with God but in John, Jesus is clear that eternal life is abundant life with him here and now. Eternal life is not a postponed existence after we die but meant to be experienced in the present. Because eternal life is a relationship with Jesus now, salvation is also a present reality. Salvation, or “being saved”, simply means an intimate relationship with God and Jesus. Eternal life = salvation = belief. And when Jesus says I am the “bread from heaven,” heaven is then given to us. For Jesus in John, heaven is not a place, but a person. 

 

So you see, this is all about how we live our lives today in response to this amazing gift of love, this grace upon grace, this abundance. And what does that look like? 

 

It looks like love. Because love is not something that we feel all mushy about, love is who God is and what God does. It is for love that God, who creates all that is seen and unseen, God who creates the cosmos, comes into our world, to walk this path with us, to show us the way, to carry us when we cannot walk it our selves.

 

 

And how does God carry us? In love, through you. You are God’s hands and feet, you are God’s love in this world. You and you and you, all of us, this community of faith that comes together to pray, to eat bread and drink wine, to share meals, and tears, heartache and joy, and who is sent out into the world to do what we are called to do.

 

In Paul’s letter to the Ephesians we hear that call as clearly as we’ve ever heard it. Put away from you all bitterness and wrath and anger and wrangling and slander, together with all malice, and be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ has forgiven you. Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children, and live in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.

 

This bread of life is Jesus’ body and feeds us. This bread of life is Jesus’ body that is broken for us, so that the bits and pieces of our brokenness may be put back together. Believe it, Jesus says. Live it, Jesus says. And Love. For Love is the recognition of the truth that we are neighbors. The Love we show is the recognition of the truth that as bad as we think we can get, God’s grace upon grace can embrace us anyway.

 

God’s promise of forgiveness and acceptance, of wholeness and of life, is given to each of us in a form we not only can hear, but also see, taste, touch, and feel. And so the bread and the wine, the body and the blood, bid us to raise our eyes from the confusion and ambiguity of life for a moment, so that we may receive God’s grace upon grace, God’s abundance, and return to our lives in this confusing world with courage and hope.

 

But don’t wait, don’t wait until the time is right, or until you have more or know more, eternal life is now. Don’t wait, until tomorrow or the next day, loving your neighbor is now. Don’t wait, until the world is a better place, make it so today.

 

This is the bread of life, broken for you. Thanks be to God.

Tenth Sunday after Pentecost Yr B Proper 13 August 1 2021

Tenth Sunday after Pentecost Yr B Proper 13 August 1 2021

2 Samuel 11:26-12:13a, Psalm 51:1-13, Ephesians 4:1-16, John 6:24-35

 

The fragrant smell of fresh bread is one of my fondest memories from my childhood. When I would enter my house after walking home from school, my mom would have fresh bread ready for an after-school snack. We’d smother it in butter and eat a whole loaf. My memory of that is infused with love and abundance. A mother who was home when I got home from school, fresh bread, brothers and sisters, time to play outside. It was grace upon grace, it was absolute and abundant love. There was no question about my place in my family, even with eight kids I always knew I was loved. This remains one of my most grace filled memories. Today families are made up of all shapes and sizes, with constellations of people who care for children, grammas and grampas, other family members, day cares and clubs, all with the same ability to show children they are loved abundantly.

 

Beginning last week and for the next four weeks we will be reading through the Bread of Life Discourse in John’s gospel, the entire sixth chapter. In these seventy-one verses, John’s themes of grace upon grace, and God’s abundance are mixed in and rise to offer us the fragrant gift of eternal life. 

 

In these next few weeks, I encourage you to read all of John, and most especially this sixth chapter. And, I encourage you to attend Friday morning Bible Study. We’re recording the discussion, so you can listen to it with a click from our website. 

 

But even my experience of love and grace and abundance, pales in comparison to what John is doing in the gospel and in this sixth chapter specifically. John gives us Jesus, who offers the disciples, and you and I, an invitation into a deep, deep, relationship. Jesus reveals more and more of who he is, the bread of life. 

 

Today John offers us the bread of life that fills us, and sustains us, in Jesus whose relationship with us heals us. 

 

We wander around trying to fill up on that which cannot fill us, that which cannot sustain us, that which cannot seep into the cracks of our broken hearts. We look for something that we believe will make us happy and successful. And we come here, looking for something, maybe not quite sure what it is. What we get is Jesus. Jesus is the food that fills us, Jesus is the blood that seeps into the cracks of our hearts and souls and makes us whole. Come and I will feed you. Come, and you will never be hungry or thirsty again. When you eat this bread and drink this wine, you will be healed, you are a new creation, your hunger will be satisfied. That is what the gospel writer John means when he refers to eternal life.

 

The feeding of the five thousand, last week’s reading and the beginning of this Bread of Life discourse, was a massive picnic in the wilderness. Today we hear Jesus say to those who, I am the bread of life, whoever comes to me will never be hungry and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty. Often, those who followed Jesus were confused, they misunderstood. They cannot see beyond the sign to Jesus, whom they have already received. Not only is the bread Jesus' body, but it is manna from heaven, the bread of angels. The wine is not just Jesus' blood, but the free-flowing drink at the messianic feast, the substance of joy. It will fill you up, like nothing else can.

 

A loaf of bread is as practical as it is mysterious. It will fill our hunger in so many ways. And as we partake of the bread we become the body, the body of Christ. We become a new creation, we are made whole. We become a community of faith. We are healed, we are put back together, we are re-membered.

 

As we take the bread into our bodies, and as we are healed, we are formed as followers of Jesus. We come here, finally again, and we take into our bodies the bread of life, we ingest the Word over and over again. Jesus seeps into our very being and fills the cracks and fissures. In this practice, we become the people of God, we become who God creates us to be, who God dreams we can be. Part of the mystery is that the loaf of bread teaches us who we are as well as transforms us into whom we may be. Our practice and prayer surround the loaf of bread with word and action.

 

As we take the bread into our bodies we become followers of Jesus, and as followers of Jesus we embody God's promise and reconciliation in the world. That is our mission. What does God call us to do? God calls us to embody healing and reconciliation in the world. We are a holy community, sanctified by the presence and Spirit of God, sharing the Lord's meal, and as a holy community, God works through us ordinary people, to do extraordinary things.

 

We are a witness to the world of an alternate way of living. We are followers of Jesus, we are the Jesus movement. In the world, the strongest wins, the one who has the most wins, in the Jesus movement, Love wins. In the world the powerful, the well-known, the stars, get the attention, in the Jesus movement, the first will be last, and the last will be first. Our identity as followers of Jesus is found in participating in God's life and love for the world, in creating Jesus' community wherever we find ourselves. We care for our own members, and we love our neighbors the same way God loves us in Jesus. We go into the world bearing a spirit of humility, compassion, and mercy, and we bring Jesus' healing wherever we go.

 

We also receive Jesus' healing from others, we receive Jesus' hospitality from others, and Jesus' body is completed by others, because we don't have all the answers, we don't know it all, we don't have the right way or the only way. There is so much we have yet to learn, so many ways we can be Jesus' body that we do not know yet.

 

It is I, do not be afraid. You will eat and be filled, you will eat and be healed, you will eat and be sent into the world to be Jesus' hands and feet. You don't need to be perfect because you are perfectly loved. It is this love relationship that is faith, that is belief, and that is eternal life. It is grace upon grace. Amen. 

Eighth Sunday after Pentecost Proper 11 Yr B July 18 2021

Eighth Sunday after Pentecost Proper 11 Yr B July 18 2021

2 Samuel 7:1-14a, Psalm 89:20-37, Ephesians 2:11-22, Mark 6:30-34, 53-56

 

Jesus said, “Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.” And so they went.

 

I’ve described to you before the wonderful opportunity I had a few years ago, before I came to you, for a sabbatical. I took three months away from the congregation and did some traveling. The first couple of weeks Rick and I, and Tom and Amanda, who were newly married, and Willie, who was newly graduated from college, went to Norway. We saw family, we saw spectacular fjords and mountains, and we stayed in some mighty fine places. The kids flew home, and Rick and I were in London, and then we traveled through Europe ending in Paris. We were with a group of people who turned into friends, and we saw beautiful sights, ancient ruins, and ate really well. Rick flew home from Paris, and I had a month, by myself. The first two months were highly planned, and rightly so when you want to make sure you do and see some very particular things. But I purposefully did not plan out my month by myself. I went where the Spirit led. So the deserted place for me was the Scottish Island called Iona. Iona is a thin place, it is a place where the land and the sky meet. It is a place where prayer has been placed throughout time. It is a place where sacred and secular dance. And it is a place where there are not many people, mostly sheep.

 

Have you been to a deserted place? It doesn’t have to be far away. In fact, I believe we are called to deserted places that are not far from home. Sometimes it is in the deserted place, the quiet place, where we may listen and know we are God’s beloved. This last year of our lives has been something like that, a deserted place.

 

As you well know by now, Mark doesn’t waste any time getting down to business about Jesus, the Son of God, in fact those are his very first words. Jesus is then baptized by John in the Jordan, and we hear “You are my beloved Son, I am well pleased.” And in an instant, Jesus is in the wilderness. I believe that event, and this excursion to the deserted place, are related. Between these two desert place stories, Jesus calls the disciples and sets about healing and teaching. Jesus calls out unclean spirits, Jesus heals a paralytic, a woman who was bleeding, a man with a withered hand, and a little girl. Jesus teaches about the kingdom of God. Jesus feeds five thousand with five fish and two loaves of bread, and Jesus walks on water. The disciples are in all of this with Jesus, and they need to rest.  

 

We don’t hear the feeding story, with five fish and two loaves of bread, nor do we hear the walking on water story this morning, but we know they are there. After the feeding story, Jesus goes off by himself to pray. And when evening came, Jesus saw that the disciples were in trouble on the water, and goes out to help them. The disciples thought Jesus was a ghost and they were terrified. That’s also what is left out of what we hear this morning, and we pick it up again when they all get to the other side of the lake. At this point people recognize Jesus, and want to touch Jesus, or at least the fringe of the cloak, and be healed. Remember the woman who was bleeding, she reached out her hand to touch the fringe of Jesus’ cloak and was healed.

 

This is a good news, bad news story. People were recognizing Jesus, they knew what Jesus could do, and what Jesus could do for them. The trouble it seems is that Jesus was beginning to feel closed in, torn apart, mobbed. Expectations of Jesus were rising, this man could heal, and so many needed to be healed. The disciples were beginning to feel afraid of what might happen. Just like at the very beginning, Jesus goes to a deserted place, a lonely place, but this time, Jesus invites the disciples to come.

 

This past year might have been like a deserted place for some. I heard about so much creativity, artwork, reading, and making music, the fruit of silence and reflection. And yet at the same time we worked hard at staving off some fear, some loneliness and heartache. 

 

 

But this Good News from Mark assures us that the deserted place is a place of refreshment. Jesus said, “Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.” And so they went. Jesus makes this very same invitation to us. Come away to a deserted place. And yet, the deserted places are often the places we avoid and yet know somewhere deep down they are necessary places, truthful places. They are not just “time to get away” places. They are not just “we all need a break” places. They force us to recognize what’s necessary. What’s absolutely needed. And who will truly be there when everyone else walks away. 

 

When I was away, on my own in Canterbury, Durham, Edinburgh, Iona, I listened. I found quiet places, sometimes deserted places, thin places, in the catacombs and the cathedrals, in the countryside and the seaside. And what spoke most loudly to me in the quiet, was this, “In the end only three things matter: how much you loved, how gently you lived, and how gracefully you let go of things not meant for you.”

 

And so Jesus takes the disciples to a deserted place not just for a well-deserved respite, but to teach them what was learned in the wilderness -- and what will be essential for them to remember when it comes to their role in bringing about the Kingdom of God. Deserted places change our perspective. In the quiet places we have a chance to meet Jesus again. I wonder what you have heard in the last year of quiet? In the quiet places we have a chance to hear Jesus’ claim on our lives and our hearts. We are followers of Jesus. We are invited into the quiet places with Jesus so that we may hear Jesus’ call to us. Jesus says to us, you are my beloved, you are my beloved, and together we may build this Kingdom of God. Amen. 

Seventh Sunday after Pentecost Proper 10 Yr B July 11 2021

Seventh Sunday after Pentecost Proper 10 Yr B July 11 2021

2 Samuel 6:1-5, 12b-19, Psalm 24, Ephesians 1:3-14, Mark 6:14-29

 

Once upon a time, there was a party that no one would ever forget. No sooner did glasses empty than they were filled. When the feast was finished, desserts that dazzled the eyes were set out. Every key player in the kingdom was in attendance, and the most beautiful women in the land danced to delight the king. This is our story today in Mark, but it may very well be indistinguishable from any one of a number of TV shows and movies we’ve seen recently, where this one is jealous of that one and has an affair with the other one and decides to behead the first one? None of them hold a candle to this bizarre story we read today in Mark.

 

John, being held in the king’s prison, being kept safe at the king’s command, heard the sounds of the party. John had captured the king’s curiosity and even his respect. Even though the king was often perplexed by what John had to say, he knew the man to be a man of God. So the king feared John, even though the king held him a captive.

 

But everything changed at the party. When King Herod had had too much to drink and was too excited to think clearly, all his fine promises of security to John the Baptist vanished before the movements of an exquisite belly dancer. The executioner burst into the prison cell and emerged with John’s head on a platter. Herod’s promises to John expired upon the enticements of beauty and the stupidity of drunken oaths. It’s a tale as old as time. But there continue to be Herods today, rulers that are hungry for power and will do anything to stay in power, politicians that twist and turn their words to make themselves look good.

 

Why does Mark tell this tale? Let’s look at where it is in Mark’s story. Right before it, what we read last time, is Jesus sending out the disciples two by two, along with instructions about who to stay with and how to respond if they are not welcomed into a community. These are Jesus’ instructions about the practical matters of discipleship. Jesus has given the disciples authority to heal and cast out demons. And by all accounts, the disciples are successful. 

 

After this story Jesus gathers the disciples to go off to a deserted place to pray. They had been working so hard, and in such a hurry to proclaim the kingdom, Jesus wanted to pull them away for a while. But what happened was that the crowds figured out where they were going, and they showed up on the beach, and Jesus had compassion for them and taught them many things. And then fed them with five loaves and two fish. 

 

Before and after we have these wonderful stories of discipleship, of following Jesus, and of healing and feeding happening. So why this story? I wonder if it’s Mark’s warning. Is Mark saying that following Jesus isn’t all fun and games, there is a cost to discipleship. 

 

One lesson the disciples simply do not want to learn is that, when they follow Jesus, the end of the road will more likely be a platter or a cross than a spotlight or a toast. There are people like Herod in this world, people like Herodias, people who are pumped up with their own importance. It is enticing to be on a first-name basis with a guy like Herod, but the results are almost always deadly. 

 

What does that mean for us? We claim to be followers of Jesus, like the disciples that first followed. But there is a cost. It may not be as horrific as losing your head, but there is a cost. Mark goes on to describe some other grizzly things, like chopping off your hand or poking out your eye. But what if this is less about dying a grizzly death, and more about living a true and authentic life? Maybe it’s a description of what happens to us when we get caught up into the kingdom of God. 

 

Remember way back to 1999 when we first watched the Matrix? Maybe the cost of following Jesus, rather than a taking away of life and limb, is more like being freed from the Matrix. Humans were unwittingly plugged into a computer organism and the characters that had been unplugged, who had been freed from the Matrix, were identifiable by a scar on the back of their necks. The back of the neck was where they had been shackled to the Matrix. And when they chose to have a real life and not be in bondage to the machine, they were unplugged from it. But it hurt to be unplugged. Maybe like having something cut off their body, it hurt to have the illusion pulled away. But in exchange they got life, real life, not an illusion, but live with real freedom and real purpose. 

 

Following Jesus is costly in ways that we can only begin to imagine. Following Jesus demands that we unplug from the Matrix, unplug from the stuff that keeps us from being free to love like Jesus loves. What are we so attached to that giving it up hurts? For some that is addiction to drugs or alcohol, for some that is food. For many these days it is screens. 

 

But I think that is what Mark is telling us. Being free to love like Jesus loves means unplugging from the machine. It is not easy, and its cost is dear. It means setting aside our pride, our grudges, our own efforts at perfection and pleasing others. It means that we forgive ourselves and our neighbors. And it most especially means that we accept and receive God’s grace, God’s word, God in the flesh. 

 

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who was known for his staunch resistance to the Nazi dictatorship, wrote the book, The Cost of Discipleship, in it he writes,

 

“Costly grace is the gospel which must be sought again and again and again, the gift which must be asked for, the door at which a person must knock. Such grace is costly because it calls us to follow, and it is grace because it calls us to follow Jesus Christ. It is costly because it costs a person their life, and it is grace because it gives a person the only true life. It is costly because it condemns sin, and grace because it justifies the sinner. Above all, it is costly because it cost God the life of his Son.”

 

Following Jesus is costly because it costs a person their life, and it is grace because it gives a person the only true life. You see, therein lies the rub. Following Jesus is about laying down that which is killing you, it’s like a part of you must die, in order for the new life, the true life, to grow. 

 

This is not the life our culture encourages. But it is the life of following Jesus. This is a life of love that demands our very best self. In a world where a very best self is about success and happiness, this love and grace calls us to work for the very best of the beloved. In a world where a very best self is about beauty and health, this love and grace calls us to be our very real self, which is beautiful. In a world where the very best self looks like a charade of bluster and lies, this love and grace calls us to live a truth of forgiveness and healing.

 

And, it is a promise. Jesus promises that when a part of ourselves dies, there will be resurrection, there will be new life, and there is always hope. Amen.

Sixth Sunday after Pentecost Proper 9 Yr B July 4 2021

Sixth Sunday after Pentecost Proper 9 Yr B July 4 2021

2 Samuel 5:1-5, 9-10, Psalm 48, 2 Corinthians 12:2-10, Mark 6:1-13

 

It seems like a rather harsh reaction. Jesus has gone home to preach, and first the people are somewhat surprised, and then they quickly turn to “who is this guy, isn’t he just Mary and Joseph’s son?” “Hasn’t he gotten a bit full of himself, too big for his britches?” Could this be a story about the hometown boy making good, and I wonder if they aren’t just a little bit jealous. And then Jesus’ friends and neighbors turn away and resist Jesus’ invitation into the grace and mercy that is offered, and Jesus just can’t believe it. 

 

But Mark’s reason for telling us this story isn’t just about that, I think it’s about something much deeper. Jesus invites those who were listening in the synagogue, and us who are hearing this 2000 years later, to partner in this ministry of love. Which means that each and every day we have before us the opportunity to be channels of grace and mercy to people and a world desperately in need of grace and mercy.

 

Mark continues to tell this tale of rejection. The people who are in the synagogue, Jesus’ hometown church, Jesus’ friends and neighbors, take offense and reject him. But in the quiet, the back rooms, the barns, Jesus and those who followed, continue to heal. But Jesus tells the followers, “If any place will not welcome you and they refuse to hear you, as you leave, shake off the dust that is on your feet as a testimony against them”. It makes me wonder what’s going on that makes Jesus and the disciples so unwelcome. 

 

Jesus instructs the disciples to go out into the villages and teach, taking nothing with them and accepting hospitality as it is offered, and if it is not offered, Jesus tells them to move on. But so many of their neighbors are trapped in their comparisons and complaints, they are not remotely interested in receiving Jesus’ blessing. Even Jesus cannot believe it.

 

In a world so desperate for grace and mercy, why does Mark tell this story, why will the people not accept Jesus’ offer. Why would people kick them all out?

 

What about now? Can we imagine ourselves as the ones in the pews when Jesus comes, are we the people who kick Jesus out of there? We would know Jesus, we would welcome Jesus, we would offer coffee and donuts and a bed to sleep on. And we would welcome Jesus’ disciples, wouldn’t we?

 

What’s going on here? Jesus offers grace and mercy, and that comes as a threat to the principalities and powers. Jesus’ message of love is a message that includes everyone. Jesus’ disciples are not the ones in power, Jesus’ disciples are not the well to do, Jesus’ disciples are fishermen. They stink like fish.

 

In our communities and our neighborhoods, we have a lot of trouble welcoming the ones that stink. We want them to be like us, well groomed, well fed, well moneyed. We want them to look like us and talk like us. We want to be able to know that their God is our God. And we really don’t want to be upset by any difference in belief, or culture.

 

In this world where there is so much fear, it’s really hard to offer hospitality to those who we don’t know, or those who don’t come with a good recommendation, or those who have nowhere else to go. We are the ones, you see, who close our doors to stinking fishermen.

 

The good news in this story is that Jesus invites the disciples to partner in the ministry of love. Jesus tells them to travel light and accept the hospitality that is offered. Jesus equips and commissions the disciples to carry on the ministry. They are now partners in ministry in a way they have not been up to this point in the story. And the instructions Jesus offers demonstrate the mutuality, even interdependence, of the disciples on those to and with whom they minister. They go out in pairs, because this work can’t be done alone. And they do not take their own provisions but rather depend on the hospitality of those they meet. And while some will receive them and be blessed, others will refuse their ministry and blessing.

 

And the good news in this story is that even in the face of rejection, even when the principalities and powers refuse the invitation to love, the invitation to grace and mercy that Jesus and the disciples offer, the offer continues to be made. Jesus does not recant, Jesus continues to bring love even when that love, and grace, and mercy, is rejected.

 

The good news for us is that Jesus invites us to partner in this ministry of love. Jesus invites us. And really, we are the stinky fishermen, and we are the well-groomed. We are the very imperfect humans that are created in God’s image. We are the ones who are really good at loving one another, and we are the ones who miss the mark mightily on many days. We are the ones who are broken, and we are the ones who are healed in the bread that is the body broken for us.

 

And the good news for us is that our actions matter. Not as works that earn God’s favor but as a response to God’s holy invitation. God has chosen us in Baptism, not only for salvation but also for purposeful, consequential lives here and now, and each day we have a choice between resisting God’s activity or partnering with God’s intent and action to bless and care for God’s world.

 

We are the ones who bear love, mercy, and grace into all the places we find ourselves: our homes, our work, our schools. We are the ones who break down the barriers between us and them. We are the ones who meet people in their places of brokenness or joy. We are the ones who seek out those who will listen to the words of God’s love for everyone, we are the ones who love compassionately and fail miserably in the short sightedness of our compassion.

 

Our love, mercy, and compassion matters. Even when it seems like no one listens. What we do matters. Every time you choose to love and not hate, every time you choose to cross the barriers to offer love, we come closer to the dream God dreams for us. Jesus invites us to partner in the ministry of love, and this beloved community equips us to be agents of love, of grace, and of mercy. Love does indeed, win. Amen.