Sermon for All-Hallows 2015

Preached at St. John's Lutheran Church, New Freedom on October 25, 2015
Scripture Texts: Ezekiel 37:1-14

The ancients said of this day that the barrier between this world and the next grew thin and allowed the dead to walk among us. Traditions grew up around that myth and folklore, traditions that the Church later adopted when it made these days the celebration of All-Saints and All-Hallows. We don these costumes as mockery of those ghosts and spirits. What have we to fear of them? The lot of us are a lot scarier than they are. Or so we’d like to think.

But let’s be honest. Death is scary. It’s one thing we all face in life that there is no overcoming on our own. We can dodge it, avoid it for a time, but eventually it comes for all of us. What is it? What is it like to die? What’s on the other side, if anything? None of us really knows. Those are questions we don’t have answers to and they are questions we won’t have answers to until that moment it comes for us. Death is the true unknown and the truly unknowable.

But there is one thing we do know about it. We know that it hurts. Not necessarily for us when we experience it ourselves, but it hurts for those who are left behind. Those who grieve. Those who mourn. Many of us have had to say good-bye already to beloved grandparents or friends or someone else who mattered to us and if we haven’t yet, we will. The questions about what happens to us echo in our curiosity about their fate. What becomes of those who matter most to us when they die? Will we see them again? Will we be reunited? Again, those are questions to which we have no solid answers.

What we have instead is faith. Faith in a God who tells us time and again that death is his problem to solve and that he will take care of it. Faith in a God who says that we will be with him in eternity. Faith in a God who has sent his son into our world to live, to die on a cross, and to rise again on the third day. Faith in a God who has claimed each of us as his own through our baptism.

Just a few minutes ago, we heard the song Tourniquet by Evanescence. It’s a song that asks many questions, many of these same questions that we’ve heard in this sermon. Will God be there for us? Or is death really the end? Amy Lee’s lyrics sound like a fanciful paraphrase of Ezekiel. “Our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost; we are cut off completely.”

God’s answer to that is to bring bone together with bone and to breathe life where there is death. “Thus says the Lord God: I am going to open your graves, and bring you up from your graves, O my people...I will put my spirit within you, and you shall live.” That is his promise to us. That is what Jesus was about. That’s why he came. It’s why he died. And it’s why he rose again.

That’s what tonight is about. The light still shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it.

At its core, that is what Halloween is about. This day is a remembrance of the dead, a remembrance that death is real. Much like Ash Wednesday, we are reminded that we are dust and to dust we shall return. And yet, we also remember in the midst of that reality that Christ has conquered death through his own death and resurrection. That life is stronger than death and life is what we are promised in the end. Eternal life. Life with God.

That is our faith. That is what we believe. It is why we are here on this night and every time we gather in worship. We gather to remember the promises, to celebrate what God has done for our sake. To remember that there will come a time when he will bring us home to be with him forever. Amen.

Sermon for Reformation Day 2015

Preached at Canadochly Lutheran Church on October 25, 2015
Scripture texts: None

Image from Wikipedia

Who am I? You would dare question! We are Leo, the tenth of that name. The Vicar of Christ, the Pope of Holy Mother Church. We came to sit the throne of St. Peter in the year of our Lord 1513. Before that, we were Giovanni de Medici, scion of the powerful and wealthy Medici family of Florence.

Who am I indeed! What a foolish question. I received my cardinal’s hat when I merely a boy of 14, studying for the priesthood. I ran with the likes of Cesare Borgia and Alessandro Farnese, the royal sons of Rome in those years. Hellions all, we tore up and down every tavern and brothel in the city.

Of course, those wild years were cut short when Savonarola arose in Florence. That iconoclastic monster! Drove my family from power. Burned priceless books and paintings in his “bonfire of the vanities.” Claimed God was going to bring down his judgment on his wayward Church. The fool! He dared to stand up to the Vicar of Christ. Dared to challenge the Pope! He burned for his folly.

But childhood came to an end. My brothers and I had to pick up the pieces of our beloved city after Savonarola’s barbarism. By the time I was elected to the papacy, I was well-prepared to sit the throne of St. Peter. After all those hard years, I was determined to enjoy it.

And then...then came Luther. That wild boar of Germany. Another fool in the mold of Savonarola and clearly one who had not learned the lesson of that episode. That heretic, that drunken little German monk who had audacity to defy me!

It began with St. Peter’s, the grand basilica of Rome. Like my predecessors before me, we sought to rebuild the grand cathedral of Holy Mother Church, to make of it a temple to rival Solomon’s in its glory. But to do that, we needed money. My predecessors lived in difficult times. Wars consumed the Papal treasury as my fellow Pontiffs supported France against Spain, England against France, Italy against itself, and all of them against the Muslim Turks marching across old Byzantium to threaten all of Europe. Only the Germans seemed to stay out of much of the fray. They were a fruit ripe for the plucking.

Into the German provinces I sent Johann Tetzel with a simple message. Give your moneys to the Church and God will forgive you your sins. Give generously and more sins will be forgiven. Purgatory can be avoided. Your relatives, beloved of your family, can escape hell’s damnation. All it takes is a little coin.

Luther objected to our little scheme. He said the Holy Scriptures tell of grace, that salvation is won through Christ alone.

Who is he to interpret the Holy Scriptures? Am I not the Vicar of Christ? Have I not inherited the throne of St. Peter? The audacity of this man to think he alone is intelligent enough to divine God’s will from the Bible. That’s my job! My task! I tell everyone what the Scriptures mean. Not him.

For his defiance of the Church’s teachings, I called him to task. I had brought before the Inquisitors, but clever demon that he is, Luther secured from the Emperor a promise of safe conduct. He came unmolested, defended his writings. “Here I stand, I can do no other.” He made no effort to recant. No effort to apologize for his affront to our person and our title. But we could not touch him. He had Emperor’s protection, at least for a time.

But then he disappeared. Vanished into thin air. Squirreled away by his many supporters among the rabble of Germany. “German money for a German church.” they would bellow, denying what should rightly belong to me.

This poison continues to spread throughout the Church. I’ve have tried to silence this man. He is anathema, excommunicated, yet he still speaks. He is under threat of death and yet he still speaks. His writings are more popular than ever. He writes in that vulgar tongue German and has even dared to translate the Scriptures into it.

What an abomination. Now anyone can read God’s Holy Word for himself. They can decide what they wish it to mean without the guidance and instruction of the Holy See. They can discover God’s will...without me.

I have armies. I have hundreds of scholars, all willing to see things my way. I have wealth beyond the dreams of avarice. I am the Pope. But against Luther, against his preaching, against his honesty and sincerity, against his defiance, I am nothing.

“You will know the truth and the truth will set you free.” Our blessed Savior once taught that to his disciples. Against the truth my armies are powerless. Against the truth, my scholars are meaningless. Against the truth of God’s Holy Word, I can do nothing.

How dare he do that to me!

Funeral Sermon for Susan Mathias

Preached at Canadochly Lutheran Church on Saturday, October 24, 2015
Scripture texts: Job 19:23-27, Isaiah 40:28-31, John 11:25-26, 32-44

Well, here we are again.

I can imagine what you’re thinking, because it’s probably the same as what I’m thinking. This isn’t right. This can’t be happening. It was just 5 months ago that we were all gathered here to say good-bye to Millie, Suzy’s mother, who also died of cancer. Cancer that came on so sudden and so quickly. We’re all taught as children that life isn’t fair, but why does it have to hurt so much?

Suzy was one of the first people to invite me into her home to visit after I was called as the pastor here three years ago. At that time, it was Jim, her husband, who was on borrowed time from cancer. (This story is becoming nauseatingly familiar.) But as I got to know Suzy, I came to realize what a gem she really was.

Sometimes, it is very easy to become cynical as a pastor. We preach and preach and we wonder if ever make a difference, if anyone is ever listening to us up here. Suzy was one of those who proved that, yeah, people do. She got it. All of it. The Gospel, the call to love one another, to live life caring for others. That’s who she was. That’s what she did. I couldn’t go three sentences into a conversation with her before she was wondering how I was doing and what she could pray for in my life. She was an amazing human being, one of the kindest, most compassionate, most generous people I’ve ever met. She was among the best of us.

There is a scene in the sixth chapter of Revelation where the souls of the suffering cry out to God, “How long, O Lord?” In many ways, that’s my prayer today. “How long, O Lord, must we sit by and watch as the best of us are taken from us? How long must we put up with losing the ones we love? How long?” It’s a prayer of anger and frustration, because that’s how I feel right now. And I know I’m not alone.

Suzy’s death has stirred all sorts of emotions in all of us. We’re shocked, stunned, angry, hurt, confused, and just about everything else. Our feelings are raw and real right now. None of this is right and we don’t quite know how to feel or how to respond. We’re flailing about in the dark in many ways. Lost in our grief.

So what are we to do now?

Suzy herself may give us the answer. As a tireless proclaimer of the Gospel, both in word and deed, the Scriptures that she loved give us guidance in this time. The words of Job “I know that my Redeemer lives.” Suzy never questioned that. She never doubted it. In my conversations with her in these last weeks, she expressed time and again that no matter what happened, she was safe in God’s hands. As are we.

The words of the prophet Isaiah, from that beloved chapter 40 which we will soon be quoting frequently as we enter into the time of Advent before Christmas. “Comfort, O comfort, my people” because “those who wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength. They shall mount up with wings like eagles.” A passage that was the origin of a hymn beloved of one who was very influential in Suzy’s life, her mother. But those words call to us today, counseling patience in the midst of our sorrow and confusion. God is at work even now, even in this moment of tragedy.

And what is that work? The Gospel of John speaks to that in a powerful way. Jesus’ friend Lazarus has died. He comes to his grave, surrounded by the heartbroken members of Lazarus’ family and he is heartbroken himself. He weeps. He is moved in spirit. He is hurting. He is hurting because one that he loves has died. But he is not just a mere mortal; he is the Son of God. And with a mighty word he commands Lazarus to come forth from his grave.

John calls Jesus’ miracles “signs” in Gospel telling because they point to greater realities and truths. The raising of Lazarus is the most powerful of those signs because this is what Jesus came to do. He came to conquer death and to bring life to his people. Though his life, death, and resurrection, that is what he did. That was his answer to what we see before us today.

Suzy believed that with ever fiber of her being. She trusted those promises that God gave to her in her baptism. And if she was here now and if she could speak to us from other side of the veil, I have no doubt that these are the tales she would tell. She would call us all to remember what Christ has done, not only for her but for all of us.

I said a few moments ago that I’m angry about this. I’m angry because it’s not fair that Suzy was taken from us. I know some of you feel the same. But we’re not alone in that. God’s angry too. When we say this isn’t right, God agrees with us. That’s why Jesus came. That’s what the whole story of God’s plan for the world is about; putting this right. It’s why the promise was given to Abraham. It’s why Jesus came. It’s why he died on the cross. It’s why he rose again on the third day. The covenants, both old and new, were God’s answer to what we see before us.

“How long, O Lord?” Well, it’s not yet. But it will be. Suzy lived her whole life believing that, knowing that God would one day put right what is wrong in this world. She gave us an example to follow. Trusting in the word of the one who will bring life from death, just as he did for his Son. Amen.

Weekly Devotional for October 18, 2015

Scripture text: Hebrews 6:1-12 (Appointed for October 19)

One of the tricky things about reading through the assigned texts for a given week in the daily lectionary is figuring out which one I wish to write about in this space. That’s usually because the daily lectionary includes a number of rather obscure passages that are generally overlooked for a reason. They’re throw-away texts dealing with historical minutia or they’re angry prophecies about political alliances that no longer apply in our day and age or something else equally useless. Despite fundamentalist claims to the contrary, not all Scripture is of equal value. There’s a lot of chaff in the daily lectionary that you have to sift through to find the wheat.

Today, I have the opposite problem. The assigned texts for Monday, October 19, are not only highly applicable to our daily lives in 2015, but there’s more than one of them that I could choose to speak on today. The first is from 1 Samuel 8, a text I was first introduced to in seminary. It’s the warning of the prophet Samuel towards those in his day who were clamoring for a king, thinking that would make them strong against their enemies. It’s a good “be careful what you wish for” text and definitely has something to say to us during this election year. But I largely covered that topic already in a previous Devotional, so I’m not going to retread that here.

The second text is from Hebrews. The context of this passage is probably the first real theological argument that happened in the early church. Paul addresses this numerous times in his letters and here the author of Hebrews (who, despite popular tradition, is NOT Paul) takes his stab at the question. What is that question? Whether one needed to become Jewish before becoming Christian, to go through the Jewish initiation rites (including circumcision) to be a part of the church. The canon of Scripture is largely in agreement that not only were these issues contrary to the teachings of Christ, but to ask the question was, in many ways, an exercise in frivolity. Hebrews plays along with this in addressing the issue as childish.

How many of the traditions and “sacred cows” of the church today could we say that about?

I wrote last week about how often we get wrapped around the axle with things that don’t really matter, like what Christmas greeting we are to use or receive. That’s a good example. Too often the church expends all its energy over things that simply are not important. Hebrews calls us to “grow up,” to focus our energy instead on what truly matters: the teachings of Jesus Christ. Who are we and what are we to be about as Christians? The Scriptures make that plain. Love your neighbor. Forgive those who sin against you. Care for the less fortunate. Give generously to those in need. Trusting in God to take care of you so you can take care of others. Believing in His promises of eternal life through the life, death, and resurrection of Christ. Those are the things that truly matter. Not what color the carpet in the church is or whether you light the right candle or the left first.

Our identity as Christians is not to be centered on these frivolous things, but on the faith in God’s promises through Christ and how we are to live out that faith in our day to day lives. That is what really matters. That's who we are truly meant to be. Adults in the faith, not children. Mature, not frivolous and foolish.

Sermon for the 21st Sunday after Pentecost/St. Luke's Day

Preached at Canadochly Lutheran Church on October 18, 2015
Scripture text: Isaiah 53:4-12, Mark 10:35-45

Last Sunday, I talked about the rich young man and how he, like all of us, has something he just can’t give up in order to fulfill the demands of the law and earn eternal life. His wealth stood in the way, but I argued that we all have something that we will not surrender. We all have something that we will not give up.

The image that’s been stuck in my mind of this dynamic all this week is that of the conspiracy theory. Talk about people who will not surrender. Ever try to argue with an anti-vaxxer? Ever talk to a 9/11 Truther? Ever try to convince someone that our President was, in fact, born in this country when they don’t believe it? Talk about an exercise in futility.

Underlying every conspiracy theory is the idea that someone, somewhere, is in control of this crazy world. People who believe this stuff take comfort in the idea that there is a plan and that the way history is unfolding is according to a design, even if it is the design of a nefarious cabal of lizard people named Rothchilde.

Control. That’s really what we want. Our idols, whatever they might be, give us control. They give us control over our lives, our environment, other people, or all three. Or perhaps more accurately, they give us the illusion of control. Regardless, control is what matters. It’s our greatest desire and it has been since Eve first heard the serpent’s temptation. “Eat this and you will be like God.” Eat this and you will be in charge. Eat this and you can call the shots.

The church is hardly immune to this insidious desire. Every pastor (and more than a few folks in the pews) has a story about a choir director or an altar guild person or a church treasurer or someone else who decided that the congregation was their little fiefdom and they were lord of the manor. God help you if you crossed them. From pulpits in these prosperity Gospel churches, people are going to hear that if you just believe hard enough and pray hard enough, God is going to make you wealthy, popular, and successful beyond your wildest dreams. And, of course, with wealth, popularity, and success comes power. The power to control.

And then there’s James and John. “Hey, Jesus, make us to sit at your right and and your left in your kingdom.” They want the places of honor. They want the places of power. They want control in Christ’s kingdom. The other disciples are infuriated with them. Why? Because they want those spots too. They all want control.

For many, the Church is a means to an end. It is an avenue for personal aggrandizement. There are those who come to these pews expecting God to make of them a king, to give them power over themselves and others, to remake the world in their image and according to their desires. It’s been a problem in the pews of churches since day one. Behind every internet meme that says we should put prayer back in school is the desire for control. Behind all the talk of us being a “Christian nation” is the desire for control. Behind all the saber rattling towards countries whose majority religion is something other than Christianity (or our “kind” of Christianity) is the desire for control.

And nothing could be more antithetical to who are we are meant to be as Christians.

It’s not about control. It’s about service. It’s not about us. It’s about them. It’s not about self-aggrandizement or get-rich-quick or atta-boys. It’s about sacrifice. It’s not about winning. It’s about surrendering.

If we look to Jesus, this could not be more clear. “The Son of Man came not to be served but to serve and to give his life a ransom for many.” He declares boldly to the quarreling disciples. Here is the Son of God, the one perfectly obedient to the Father. Here’s the one who believes more than enough, who prays hard enough, the one to whom the whole world could rightly be handed to him on a silver platter and what does he do? He shakes his head no.

It’s not about control. It’s about service and sacrifice. “Let us sit at your right hand and your left.” Jesus responds to their request with a question of his own. “Do you even know what you are asking?” They don’t, because who is it that sits in those places when the moment of glory comes? It’s the two thieves, dying on the crosses next to him. Dying alongside the Son of Man as he gives his life a ransom for all.

This is what it means to be Christian. Not the strutting arrogance of what we see so often in the media, of self-appointed Christian kings who see the faith as a means to power and control. Perhaps no better counterexample is what we are going to do today. Today is our Healing Service in honor of the Feast of St. Luke. Today we come forward not in ego and arrogance, but in humility. Asking Christ’s grace and aid against those things we cannot control. Calling for healing and restoration, not power.

And what happens here we are to take forth into the world around us. Our calling as Christians is to help heal the world, to follow in the footsteps of Jesus; to do, insofar as we are able, as he did. We are here to change lives, not beat them into submission. We are here to preserve life, not dominate it. We are here to give and give and give, so that others may have enough.

We are to be that because that is who Christ is. That’s what he does. He surrenders his power and control to be the sacrifice we could never be. He gives up everything to die on a cross, to take on our iniquities and our failures. He lets go of the control that rightly could be his for your sake and mine, so that we may have the life we could never earn. All that he does, he does for you and for me and for the world around us. His whole life is service. His whole life is sacrifice. His whole life is surrender.

And that is how we win. Amen.

Weekly Devotional for October 11

Pastor’s Note: I seem to have goofed up. Last week, I wrote a devotional on Revelation, claiming that the text was appointed for October 5. It turns out, I got my weeks mixed up and the Revelation text was appointed for this week, not last. So, this week’s devotional will use texts appointed for the week of Oct 4 to make up for my error.
Scripture text: Amos 3:13-4:5, Matthew 15:1-9 (Appointed for October 10)

As my Facebook wall is eager to remind me, Christmas is just a mere ten or so week away. I’m not keen to get those reminders. It may something blasphemous to admit as a pastor of the Church, but I’m not overly fond of the Christmas holiday. I’ve got a lot of reasons for this, some personal, some theological, others sociological. It’s the latter that I wish to talk about today.

So what do I mean by “sociological?” Well, in recent years, the Christmas holiday, a time of the year that we claim to dedicate to “good will” and “peace” among humankind, has become another battleground in the ongoing culture wars. We are told by pundits that there is a “war” on Christmas. People have become openly hostile to being greeted in stores to anything other than “Merry Christmas.” People grow upset at the absence of nativity scenes on public properties.

I get why people regard these things as important. But they remind me of the long-standing “traditions” of individual congregations. The carpet is red because “it’s always been that way.” Pastor does X, Y, and Z in his duties because that’s how Pastor So-and-so of Blessed Memory did it. We have communion once a month whether we need it or not. As silly as it often seems, congregations have self-destructed over the failure of members or clergy to respect these traditions. As a friend of mine recently observed, “I thought my Army unit was the most destructive force on Earth, but I’ve come to find out nothing compares to a group of angry old church ladies.”

But, in the end, we have to ask ourselves: “Is this really something God cares about?” All too often we mistake our human traditions for holy writ and our sentimentality for divine sanction. Consider our Scripture lessons today. Here are two examples of we humans failing to recognize what truly matters to God and what does not.

Amos, like many of his Old Testament peers, has the thankless job of constantly calling the people of God back to Him. The irony of these passages is that the people are often rather fastidious about their religious observance. They worship in the temple. They keep their fasts. They make their sacrifices. They uphold the Torah. They do all that is required by the book, but their hearts and minds are focused elsewhere. They keep the letter of the law, but not the spirit. They do it all by rote, but lack passion and sincerity. In the meantime, they find plenty of loopholes to abuse and ignore those in need, mistaking human traditions and observances for God’s will. And God will have none of it.

The dynamic is similar in Matthew. Over the course of its evolution, the Jewish religion had adopted numerous rites and rituals that were not proscribed in the Scriptures. For instance, one could dedicate a portion of their possessions for use by the synagogue or temple and those resources would then become off-limits for any other usage. When the Pharisees call Jesus and his disciples out for their failure to observe proper hand washing (another human-born tradition), he reminds them that they use that tradition of dedication to abandon their elders in their time of need. Once again, human tradition has not only trumped God’s Word, it is causing harm to others. And God again will have none of it.

When it comes to our human traditions, whether they’re connected to the Christmas holiday or to the life of the church, we do have to ask ourselves what is truly important. Is slavish loyalty to this thing or that truly serving God and neighbor or is it getting in the way? An important question for us as we dive once more into the holiday insanity. As Christians, our loyalty is to Christ first and foremost. We must be cautious that our traditions do not detract from that and become idols that we worship instead.

Sermon for the 20th Sunday after Pentecost

Preached at Canadochly Lutheran Church on October 11, 2015
Scripture text: Mark 10:17-31
Revision of Sermon first preached on 3/24/2009 in Davis, WV

In the three years I’ve served here as pastor, I think most of you have figured out my passions and my interests. The things that fire me up. The things that push my buttons. There is a certain congruence in what I do and who I am. For instance, I like stories about the conflict between good and evil, whether it’s sci-fi or fantasy or a real world setting. Similarly, I preach about what I see as evil in our world (and in ourselves) and the ways in which we Christians should stand against it.

Image thanks to RaptorKraine at DeviantArt

There is a danger in that perspective however. All too often our definitions of good and evil are highly skewed. Our own biases, perceptions, and experiences influence what we see as good and evil in the world and it can blind us to the truth. What we often mean by the words “good” and “evil” and what God means by them are often two radically different ideas.

So what is the human definition of good? What is the human definition of righteousness? We’ve each got one; in each of our minds we’ve got a definition of good. Mind you, we don’t really think about it much, but we use that definition every day, all the time. It’s really this list of characteristics. Things about a person that define them as good.

For instance, a person’s definition might look something like this: White male American. Goes to church. Doesn’t murder or steal. Doesn’t drink, smoke, swear. Gives to charity. Works hard. Votes Republican. Member of the Rotary club. Member of St. Josephs-on-the-corner church. That’s a very basic example of how we might define “good.”

Now here’s the thing. Each of us has a list like that, and each one of our lists is different. Now there might be some similarities, but no two are the same. But here’s the rub. Whatever your list is, I guarantee you that you posses the majority if not the entirety of the items on it. Your personal definition of good will ALWAYS define you as good. Our lists of “good” characteristics tell us that WE are righteous. Our lists justify us.

It’s funny just how strong that mindset really is. Now suppose there’s an item on our list that we don’t possess. Say we think giving to charity is something good, but we don’t do it or don’t do it as much as we’d like. What do we do with that item in our definition of good? Well, that’s something good, but it’s really not that important. You don’t have to do that to be good. If it doesn’t serve to justify us, we downplay it. We dismiss it as unnecessary and unimportant. We’ll excuse ourselves.

Now let’s talk about evil. For every item on our list, there is corresponding opposite. If you’re not a Christian, you’re what? Some other religion or atheist. If you’re not American, you’re what? A foreigner. If you’re not a Democrat, you’re what? A Republican. If you’re not straight, you’re what? Gay. These opposites are how each of us defines evil. We all do it and just as our list of good is different for each one of us, so too is our list of evil. There might be some similarities, but no two lists are alike.

Now what are we supposed to do with evil? What are we to do with the people who fit our definition of it? Those who are not like us? Well, for the most part, we put up with them, we ignore them, we tolerate them. But you know, with a little change in circumstance, change in laws or politics or whatever, we might get to do more. We might get the chance to get rid of them entirely. After all, isn’t that what good is supposed to do? Defeat evil. Destroy evil.

But you know something, if we are constantly labeling others as not good, as evil, are we truly obeying Christ’s commandment to love our neighbor? What would we do if a gay man walked into this sanctuary right now? What would we do if an Arab in their turban and other traditional garb were to walk in here right now? Aren’t they evil? For many people, they are. Perhaps for some of us. What would we do? Would we throw them out? After all, they’re evil. They don’t deserve to be with us good people. What would you do? What would I do?

These are challenging times for us as Christians. We are living in a time of great change and with great change comes great turmoil and anxiety. The pointing of fingers, the scapegoating of this group of people or that, the identification of “the other” as evil is becoming so commonplace as to be almost blaise. Donald Trump gets up and accuses the whole Latino people of being rapists and murderers and not only are people not offended, they nod along in agreement. We hear tale of numerous examples of overreach by government authorities, but because the majority of these incidents are against the African-American community or they are committed by people we almost universally admire as “good” (i.e. law enforcement), we shrug our shoulders in apathy.

When we so casually turn our back on others, we prove what Jesus says in today’s Gospel lesson. “Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone.” Despite our best efforts to prove to ourselves otherwise, we usually end up proving just how right he is about that.

In the Gospel lesson, Jesus challenges the man’s definition of good by revealing his idolatry of greed. “Sell all you have.” He states, knowing the outcome, knowing the man cannot and will not do it. Do not let the specifics of this tale distract you from its core lesson however. All of us have something we will not give up. For some, it is a prejudice that will not be swayed by any fact. For others, it’s a blind loyalty to some cause or ideology that will not be tempered by truth. But whatever it is, it stands as our idol and we will not give it up.

The disciples sense the whole of Jesus’ teaching. “Who then can be saved?” They get it. Our goodness is not enough. We fall short. We cling to idols of our own making. We turn our back on others. We do not live up even to our own ideals. We fail and because we fail, we will never be good enough to earn the kingdom of God.

And it is for that reason that it all depends on grace. “For mortals, it is impossible.” Jesus agrees with his disciples’ dismay. But then it’s not up to mortals. It’s up to God for whom all things are possible. God’s the one who chooses salvation. God’s the one who grants it to those he wishes. It’s his call. Not ours.

That can be a disturbing truth to many of us. It’s out of our control. We have no way to sway the outcome one way or the other. It’s all up to a divine being over which we have no power. But we don’t need that control or that power, because as the Scriptures highlight hundreds of times if not thousands, it is God’s will to save us. It is his promise to save us, in spite of all the ways we’ve let him down.

In a few moments, we will again come to the font to baptize and to welcome a new member of the Christian community. Baptism is an act of trust, a tangible sign of that promise that God gives to save us. No matter how much we fail to live up to our ideals or his, nothing can take this from us. Baptism is our gift, a sign of the impossible gift that God gives, where he chooses to save sinners like you and me in spite of our failures. That is a real definition of good. Amen.

Weekly Devotional for October 4, 2015

Scripture Reading: Revelation 7:9-17 (Appointed for Oct 5)

It’s been almost a year.

My friend Dan was one of those folks you couldn’t help but like. He was gregarious and friendly; larger than life really. As befits someone of that personality, he was a big guy; a former Marine, 250 lbs (I’m guessing) of solid muscle. Dan, like me in my 20s and early 30s, was a big fan of Japanese anime and that’s how we met. Together, we helped staff a couple of conventions in the 90s. Good guy. We weren’t the closest of friends, but I admired him. People like me, who tend to the shyer side of things, look up to folks like him. We envy their easy comfort with other people and their ability to live life as it comes.

It’s been almost a year since Dan didn’t wake up that morning. He had a massive heart attack in his sleep and died. He was just 42, my age. Far too young and utterly unexpected. All the comments one could say about such a passing apply here. I mourned his passing.

Even though it’s been a year, he’s never far from my mind. One of the wonders of this Internet age is that people are not easily forgotten. Dan’s Facebook page still gets activity; a lot of people still post to it with comments like “Wish you could have seen (this thing I did this week)” or “Wish you could have been there.” In addition to that, I stumbled onto some old photos of those anime conventions while looking through my computer. Found a few of Dan in costume. In some ways, I can’t get away. The reminders are constant. But I’m a lot like those people posting to his Facebook page. I too have a lot of things I “wish” Dan could see or be a part of. But that cannot be.

He made a cool Terry Bogard.

How many of us could tell a tale like this one? We all have those people that stick in our minds for whatever reason. People we loved and cared for who are now gone. Siblings, friends, parents, children, co-workers, and so forth who have passed on from this life to whatever awaits us beyond. People taken away from us too soon. People we miss. People we mourn still.

Life in this world is not easy. That is one of the first and hardest lessons we learn as we grow from children to adulthood. Certainly, one of the ways that difficulty manifests most potently is in the loss of people we love to death. That’s probably the hardest thing of all. Nothing lasts forever, we say. Sadder words are not spoken.

But the message of our faith contradicts this. The whole arc of God’s work in this world that we find in the Scriptures points to a God who is seeking a solution to our greatest trial; God is trying to fix death. That’s the blessing the Old Covenant alludes to. That’s the reason Jesus came. It’s the reason Jesus died and it is the reason he rose again from the grave. And that is what we believe and it is what we proclaim.

The book of Revelation is intimidating to many, filled as it is with all these weird images of monsters and cataclysms. But its ultimate message is a simple one: God’s plan succeeds. God wins. The passage we have for this week highlights this. John of Patmos sees a vision of a great multitude, those who have “gone through the great ordeal” that we call life. They have won because God has chosen for them to share in his victory over death.

This is our hope. This is what we look toward. That when our moment comes, when death comes to claim us, it will come as a welcome into this great multitude. And we will find among them those who have gone before us, waiting for us. And all that is wrong with our world will be put right. Because God put forward a plan for that very purpose. A plan that succeeded. A plan that we ultimately benefit from. Death will be no more. Crying and mourning will be no more. Victory will be ours.

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P.S. Just this morning, a few days after first posting this, I discovered a friend of mine from high school passed away from illness. Barry was one of the big reasons I became a football fan, being one of the "jocks" who didn't bully or pick on me as a kid. He was 44.

Sermon for the 19th Sunday after Pentecost

Preached at Canadochly Lutheran Church on October 4, 2015
Scripture texts: Genesis 2:18-24, Mark 10:2-16

There are times when the lectionary railroads you into preaching on one text in particular, even if you’d rather preaching but that passage of Scripture. This is clearly one of those times; One cannot have the infamous “divorce” passage from the Gospel of Mark as the Gospel lesson and not address it in some fashion. It cannot be helped, not matter what else is going on that day or what other texts coincide with hit. The moment this passage is read it becomes the only thing people are thinking about.

And that’s sad. It’s sad because this has become one of those classic texts we Christians have often used to abuse one another. Ah ha! A chance to revel in our supposed moral superiority over someone else. And yet the moment we do that, we utterly miss the real point Jesus is trying to convey here and become guilty of the very sin he condemns in these words.

How so, you might ask? Well, let’s unpack this passage somewhat. To understand it fully, one has to remember the context in which it was first spoken. This is 1st century Palestine, 2000 years and an ocean away from us. This is a society steeped in patriarchy, where women have no rights and privileges that are not granted to them by men. Women are dependent on men for their whole lives in this society. And along come these Pharisees looking for sanction for divorce, looking for permission to dissolve the one institution in society that gives women any recourse at all.

Jesus goes right to the heart of the matter. “It is because of your hardness of heart...” he says in his explanation. He could just have easily and rightly said, “It is because of your cruelty...” To abandon those who most depend on you. To turn your back on those you have pledged to take care of. To discard those who need you most. That is what you are looking for permission to do.

When we realize that is what Jesus is truly condemning here, it becomes a whole lot harder to use this text to bludgeon others. Divorce in our modern context is often far more complicated than what is presented here. It happens due to abuse, abandonment, infidelity, and a whole host of other issues. And when we use a text like this to spew venom at those who have gone through that, are we not also guilty of that same cruelty as these Pharisees who seek to abandon their wives to the whims of fate? Are we not also turning our backs on those who need us most in their times of struggle?

“It is because of your hardness of heart...” Boy, if those aren’t words that condemn all of us, I don’t know what they are. Look at our society. What we’ve become over the generations. We are divorced in so many ways from one another. It’s a dog-eat-dog every-man-for-himself world that we’ve created here in our nation. So many get left behind. So many are abandoned. So many who depend on us are left to their own devices.

#BlackLivesMatter! What a nonsense statement, or at least it should be. Of course, they matter. But we’ve gotten so bad at taking care of one another that we honestly have to be reminded of such a common sense reality. And that’s just one manifestation in recent memory of how we turn our backs on one another. Too often, those of us in positions of privilege want to pretend that our cruelty isn’t real. But that becomes yet another excuse we use to continue our abandonment of others. Racism isn’t real anymore, we claim, and in the next breath we start looking for excuses as to why this person of color or that immigrant deserved the abuse or neglect they’ve received. Hardness of heart indeed!

Perhaps one of the most dramatic ways this cruelty manifests is in what happened this very week. Yet again, as we have seen far too many times before, a human being has violently taken the lives of school students in a mass shooting. “It can’t be helped. These things happen.” People say. I question that.

Is it our proliferation of guns? Other places have guns. Canada has guns. They don’t have this problem. Switzerland has guns. They don’t have this problem. Is the violence of our entertainment? Japanese media is just as violent as ours (perhaps more so). They don’t have this problem. Is it a mental health issue? There are crazy people the world over, and they don’t have this problem. What the hell is wrong with us that we do?

It because we don’t take care of one another.

We’re full of excuses. They’re criminals. They’re different. They sleep with the wrong people. They don’t deserve help. It’s too expensive. And more and more people fall through the cracks, abandoned by those who could help them if they chose. Abandoned by us, as we so often chose. Violence quickly becomes the only option available to them and every night our TV screens are filled with their stories.

“Because of our hardness of heart...” That’s really what it boils down to. We don’t care and as long as we don’t care, this is the way things will be. We laud our Christian bona fides as a nation and yet this is how we treat one another. Thousands dead each year from gun violence. Half a million people sleeping on the streets each night. One in five children go to bed hungry. Does that sound like a Christian nation to us? We should be ashamed.

This is not how it’s supposed to be.

Genesis shows us what life is meant to be like. “It is not good that the man be alone.” God says about Adam, so he seeks to find a companion for him. From that quest comes the first family and from that family comes the basis of human civilization. We are meant to live together. We are meant to build each other up. We meant to take care of one another. Because that’s what God does for us. This story highlights that. Adam can’t fix his loneliness. God intervenes. God takes care of him. God provides him with a companion, one who is suited for him.

God does this all the time. The Bible is full of stories of times when God intervenes to take care of his people. He provides spouses, children, friends, food, shelter, water, military victory, good leaders, wisdom, guidance, and ultimately his own son for our salvation. Time and again, God goes out of his way to take care of those who depend on him. To take care of us.

God does not stop even remotely to ask whether we deserve this aid or not. We don’t and he knows it. That doesn’t matter to him. He knows only that we need and what we need he provides without question or judgment. That’s grace. That’s compassion. That’s love. And we meant to pass the same on to one another.

In the Genesis story, God first provides the animals to Adam before he discovers Eve is the suitable companion for his human. Despite the fact that they are not our true “helper as our partner,” there is something they can teach us about how life is meant to be. I’ve owned a half dozen or so dogs over the course of my life. When I walk in the door each day after being away, they run to me. They could care less about what I’ve been doing, how a good a person I’ve been, whether I’ve been righteous or upright in my morality. They don’t care what color my skin is or who I sleep with. They don’t care about how much money I have or don’t have. All that matters to them is that I’m home, the one they love, and they fall all over themselves to express their excitement at that.

Like this!

They care about me. I’m the most important thing in the world to them. They would give their lives without hesitation to defend me from a threat. Imagine if we treated one another the way our pets treat us? They can teach us what life looks like when we do not have “hardness of heart.”

Like this!

That perhaps is why they are such a blessing, a reminder of what life is really supposed to be about. When we do care for one another the way God cares for us. Amen.

Weekly Devotion for September 28, 2015

Scripture texts: Numbers 11:4-6, 10-16, 24-29, Mark 9:38-50

It had been my plan to use this devotional this week to make some manner of commentary on the visit of the Bishop of Rome, Pope Francis, to the United States last week. I had expected, out of what I've come to know of this Pope, that he would articulate a vision of Christianity very much in line with the oldest traditions of our common faith; a vision of Christianity focused on love, mercy, compassion, much as Christ himself would.

Image from Usnews.com

I was not disappointed in that regard. As I've been reviewing the transcripts of his public remarks, that is precisely what I am finding: a focus on love and care for others, what one might call a truer morality than our often obsessive focus on the "proper use of one's genitals" as I often jokingly refer to it. We have let ourselves become distracted into thinking that morality is all about sex and yet the Scriptures themselves focus far more on the care of our fellow human beings: the poor, the downtrodden, the lost, and the stranger.

With that in mind, I am sharing the transcript of the Pope's homily from Sunday, September 27. This was given at his final mass in Philadelphia before he departed for home. In his words, I think you will see that same focus I have: that we, as Christians, are to be about love of neighbor first and foremost in our lives here on Earth.

(Credit: I found this transcript via the Washington Post newspaper website.)

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Today the word of God surprises us with powerful and thought-provoking images. Images which challenge us, but also stir our enthusiasm.

In the first reading, Joshua tells Moses that two members of the people are prophesying, speaking God’s word, without a mandate. In the Gospel, John tells Jesus that the disciples had stopped someone from casting out evil spirits in the name of Jesus. Here is the surprise: Moses and Jesus both rebuke those closest to them for being so narrow! Would that all could be prophets of God’s word! Would that everyone could work miracles in the Lord’s name!

Jesus encountered hostility from people who did not accept what he said and did. For them, his openness to the honest and sincere faith of many men and women who were not part of God’s chosen people seemed intolerable. The disciples, for their part, acted in good faith. But the temptation to be scandalized by the freedom of God, who sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous alike (Mt 5:45), bypassing bureaucracy, officialdom and inner circles, threatens the authenticity of faith. Hence it must be vigorously rejected.

Once we realize this, we can understand why Jesus’ words about causing “scandal” are so harsh. For Jesus, the truly “intolerable” scandal consists in everything that breaks down and destroys our trust in the working of the Spirit!

Our Father will not be outdone in generosity and he continues to scatter seeds. He scatters the seeds of his presence in our world, for “love consists in this, not that we have loved God but that he loved us” first (1 Jn 4:10). That love gives us a profound certainty: we are sought by God; he waits for us. It is this confidence which makes disciples encourage, support and nurture the good things happening all around them. God wants all his children to take part in the feast of the Gospel. Jesus says, “Do not hold back anything that is good, instead help it to grow!” To raise doubts about the working of the Spirit, to give the impression that it cannot take place in those who are not “part of our group”, who are not “like us”, is a dangerous temptation. Not only does it block conversion to the faith; it is a perversion of faith!

Faith opens a “window” to the presence and working of the Spirit. It shows us that, like happiness, holiness is always tied to little gestures. “Whoever gives you a cup of water in my name — a small gesture — will not go unrewarded”, says Jesus (cf. Mk 9:41). These little gestures are those we learn at home, in the family; they get lost amid all the other things we do, yet they do make each day different. They are the quiet things done by mothers and grandmothers, by fathers and grandfathers, by children, by brothers. They are little signs of tenderness, affection and compassion. Like the warm supper we look forward to at night, the early lunch awaiting someone who gets up early to go to work. Homely gestures. Like a blessing before we go to bed, or a hug after we return from a hard day’s work. Love is shown by little things, by attention to small daily signs which make us feel at home. Faith grows when it is lived and shaped by love. That is why our families, our homes, are true domestic churches. They are the right place for faith to become life, and life grows in faith.

Jesus tells us not to hold back these little miracles. Instead, he wants us to encourage them, to spread them. He asks us to go through life, our everyday life, encouraging all these little signs of love as signs of his own living and active presence in our world.

So we might ask ourselves here today at the end of this festival: How are we trying to live this way in our homes, in our societies? What kind of world do we want to leave to our children (cf. Laudato Si’, 160)? We cannot answer these questions alone, by ourselves. It is the Spirit who challenges us to respond as part of the great human family. Our common house can no longer tolerate sterile divisions. The urgent challenge of protecting our home includes the effort to bring the entire human family together in the pursuit of a sustainable and integral development, for we know that things can change (cf. ibid., 13). May our children find in us models and incentives to communion! Not of divisions. May our children find in us men and women capable of joining others in bringing to full flower all the good seeds which the Father has sown!

Pointedly, yet affectionately, Jesus tells us: “If you, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!” (Lk 11:13). How much wisdom there is in these few words! It is true that, as far as goodness and purity of heart are concerned, we human beings don’t have much to show! But Jesus knows that, where children are concerned, we are capable of boundless generosity. So he reassures us: if only we have faith, the Father will give us his Spirit.

We Christians, the Lord’s disciples, ask the families of the world to help us! How many of us are here at this celebration! This is itself something prophetic, a kind of miracle in today’s world, which is tired of entering into new divisions, new breaches, our disasters. Would that we could all be prophets! Would that all of us could be open to miracles of love for the sake of their own family and of all the families of the world, and I’m talking about the miracle of love. And, in that manner they can overcome the scandal of a narrow, petty love, closed in on itself, impatient of others!

I say to you. As a question, so everyone can respond. In my house, do you shout? Or, do you speak with love and tenderness? It’s a good way of measuring our love. And how beautiful it would be if everywhere, even beyond our borders, we could appreciate and encourage this prophecy and this miracle! We renew our faith in the word of the Lord which invites faithful families to this openness. It invites all those who want to share the prophecy of the covenant of man and woman, which generates life and reveals God! Which helps us participate in the prophecy of peace. Of tenderness. Of family love. With tenderness, with patience and with love for our children and for our grandparents.

Anyone who wants to bring into this world a family which teaches children to be excited by every gesture aimed at overcoming evil – a family which shows that the Spirit is alive and at work – will encounter our gratitude and our appreciation. Whatever the family, people, religion, or region to which they belong! May God grant all of us to become prophets of the joy of the gospel, of the gospel of the family, of the family’s love. To be prophets as the Lord’s disciples, the grace to be worthy of this purity of heart which is not scandalized by the Gospel! Let it be so.