Preached at Canadochly Lutheran Church on August 25, 2013
Scripture text: Luke 13:10-17
I was watching a re-run of
America's Got Talent earlier this week, one of those preview episodes
they put together to fill you in before they announce the latest
winners. John Wing is competing this year and he's a comedian. I saw
his act on this episode and it was really funny. He was talking about
raising your kids and how you often are forced by their
short-attention spans and limited development to only speak in three-word sentences...
Go to bed. Shut your mouth. Eat
your food. Do your homework. Don't do that. Yes we are. No, you
won't. Stop that now. (He does the bit better than I do.)
It's one of the great joys and the
great curses of being a parent is establishing the rules. What our
kids can and can't do. They need to learn these things, to keep them
safe, to teach them how to get along with other human beings, to set
them on the right path to become the adults they should be one day.
Those three-word sentences are those rules in action. Do this and
good things will happen. Don't do this so that something bad doesn't
happen.
Of course, on the flip side when
you're the kid, rules are hard. Why can't I run down the street
naked? My clothes aren't comfortable. Why can't I scream in church?
Mommy's not paying attention to me. Why can't I jump off this 100
foot cliff? It'll be fun! (At least until you hit bottom.) Kids are
driven by the whimsy of the moment and rules get in the way of that.
They get in the way for good reason, but as a kid you don't always
realize that. You don't know why the rule is there, even if mom and
dad do.
That's the nature of rules. Rules
are important. They get us ahead in life and keep us out of harm and
danger. But what muddies the waters for both parents and children and
really for all of us are those moments when doing what is right
requires us to break the rules.
Been a lot of talk in the news
lately about whistle-blowers. We've got Edward Snowden over in Russia
who's told us how extensive the NSA spy program has really been.
We've got Bradley/Chelsey Manning who just got sentenced to 35 years
for letting Wikileaks know about what was going on in Iraq behind the
scenes. You go back a generation and you've got Daniel Ellsburg and
the Pentagon Papers. You've got Woodward and Bernstein and the
Watergate scandal. All kinds of people who felt, rightly or wrongly,
that it was more important for this information to get out into the
public than it was for them to obey the “rules” and keep it
secret.
That brings us to our Gospel story
today. Now, make no mistake, the Sabbath rule was a good rule. It's
such a good rule that I really wish our society obeyed it more.
Americans work themselves to death. We neglect family, friends, our
own health for the sake of the job. And that is precisely why God
established the Sabbath law to prevent.
Back in the days of Moses, God said
to the people. “Look, I'm giving you guys a gift. One day off a
week. One day you can spend dedicated to the things that really
matter in life. Faith, family, friends. The three Fs. (We Christians
have often added a fourth: Food.) Take that day and spend it doing
what is really important. Take it. It's yours. Enjoy.”
It's a day of life. REAL life. Life
that is joy and pleasure and peace and love. It's a day of
restoration, recharge, and renewal, all so you may face the week to
come.
But it is a rule, and as so often
happens, as time went on, the rule itself became more important than
the reason behind it. The rule became more important than what really
matters.
Jesus and his disciples have come
to the synagogue this day to obey that rule. They have come to
experience the gift that is Sabbath. They are here to worship, to
learn, to recharge, to reconnect, and to be renewed by this
experience. To be made ready for what will come in the week ahead.
Along with them comes this woman who is coming to the synagogue for
the same thing. Jesus sees her and you can imagine what runs through
his mind.
“This is Sabbath. This is the day
of rest, of renewal, of peace, and joy. What better way to give this
woman those things than to set her free from her ailment!” And so
he does and he immediately draws the ire of someone who thinks the
rule is more important the what lies behind it.
It's easy for us to look at this
story and mock the foolish stubbornness and hypocrisy of this rabbi.
But if we're truly honest with ourselves, we have to face up to the
fact that there more people in the church like him than like Jesus.
Kids in church are noisy, loud, a
distraction. We won't have them. How do you suppose parents feel when
those are the rules?
There was an article on Facebook this
week about a bride on her wedding day where the pastor outright
refused to conduct the ceremony. The guests were there. The organ was
playing. But the pastor didn't like the bride's dress, so he told
them all to leave. How do you suppose those people, the bride, the
groom, their guests felt when those were the rules?
I've often told the story of my
late grandfather and the last time he was in church. It was in the
Depression and a poor family came in to worship. The preacher stopped
the service and told them to leave because they weren't dressed well
enough. How do you suppose they felt when those were the rules?
Like the rabbi, we often miss the
point. We are more concerned about our love of law than about the law of love. God wants all people of the world to come to him to receive
the peace and the joy, the love and mercy that he offers through
Christ. When the rules matter to us more than that, we become a wall
that keeps people apart from God. We shut them out.
How can we do that when we know
that Christ died on that cross for them just as much as us? Or is it
that we really wish that wasn't true, that God's grace is only for us
and not for them? I wonder sometimes.
I think Jesus wondered that too.
There's a reason when he argues back at the rabbi that he calls this
woman a “daughter of Abraham.” He's driving home the point, driving home to this rabbi that she too is beloved of God. So are
the children, the poor, the black, the white, the gay, the straight,
the Democrat, the Republican, the women, the men, and every one else
whatever shape they take or whatever shape their lives are in. Are
they rule-breakers? Probably, but so are we, sometimes not even for
the right reasons. Does God love them and want to come to him?
Absolutely.
We have to remember what really
matters. Faith, family, friends, and the potential and the
opportunity to share those with others. Don't be a wall that keeps
people away from God. Be a bridge that helps them get to him. Amen.
Sunday, August 25, 2013
Sunday, August 18, 2013
Sermon for the 13th Sunday after Pentecost
Preached at Canadochly Lutheran Church on August 18, 2013
Scripture text: Luke 12:45-56
Scripture text: Luke 12:45-56
“Good will triumph in the end.” This is a given for many of us. We see it in our pop culture, read about it in stories or see it on the movie screen. It is a core component of our faith as Christians. Whatever other secrets may be hidden within the book of Revelation, one thing is clear. God wins in the end. And if God wins, then so too does good win for God is good.
The human mind however has this nasty little habit of taking a simple truth like “Good wins in the end” and then twisting it into something insidious or even monstrous. It’s amazing in some ways how quickly our thinking goes from “good wins in the end” to “good wins always.” That’s a dangerous lie, but it’s one we want to believe so badly that we almost never question it.
I have to give the world some credit here. Sad to say, but secular society seems to know this to be the lie it is. Think about it for a second. Is there ever a story that you’ve read where the hero never struggled once to overcome his enemies, where it was just one victory after another until the very end? Boring. TV, movies, books are all populated with stories of good people who have to fight tooth and nail to achieve their ends, some fiction, others based on true events of history.
Increasingly, we’re even seeing the rise of the villain story or the anti-hero story, tales of not-so-good people who still manage to triumph despite their evil. No one looks at stories like these and says, “no, that would never happen.” Walter White or Tony Soprano would never get away with any of that stuff in real life, because good always wins. Come on, we know better. Evil does triumph from time to time, but only temporarily.
Yet despite that, I can guarantee that even right now, as I speak, preachers are getting into pulpits all over this country and they’re telling the people in the pews before them that if only they believe enough and are sincere enough and if they’re good enough, then they will never have any trouble in life because good wins and God will make sure of that. And they’ll eat it up and they’ll believe it and then when something happens: an accident, a layoff, cancer, or some other painful “evil” event, they question and they wonder why on earth something so horrible would happen to someone as good as they are.
Evil sometimes wins. It’s as simple as that.
Bad things do happen. They happen in spite of the good we do. But interestingly enough, sometimes bad things happen because of the good we do.
And that brings us to Jesus. Our Gospel lesson today is a bit of a wake-up call to any of his disciples who are naive enough to presume that because they are followers of the Son of God then the whole world will be their oyster. Life will be perfect and pleasant and everybody will love them and it all be flowers and cupcakes and nothing bad will ever ever happen to them.
Jesus turns to his disciples and tells them, “Look, I’ve told you to love your enemies, to care for the downtrodden, to see people as God does, and the moment you start doing that, people are going to get angry at you. How dare you not hate the Muslims and the gays like everybody else! How dare you take care of those lazy freeloaders who don’t work! How dare you stand against us as we seek to destroy these worthless evil people! Your brother will turn against you. Your friends will become enemies. You will be divided from those you love for my sake and for the sake of the truths that I speak.”
In many ways, Jesus is telling us the mark of a righteous life is not smooth sailing in which evil never touches us. The mark of a righteous life is a constant battle against evil, one in which there will be pain, and there will be heartbreak, and there may even be death. This world of sin will not simply accept what we as Christians seek to do for it. It will resist. It will fight back, and it has numerous times in the past.
Gandhi stood up and said once that “my people need to be free and we will find our freedom not by violence or force of arms, but by resistance. We will harm no one. We will simply refuse to do what you tell us.” He was murdered for his trouble. Martin Luther King said the black man is equal to the white. People stood up with him and for daring to believe what we in this generation are increasing taken as a given, they were beaten, set upon by attack dogs, had fire hoses sprayed at them, and many of them were killed, including, of course, Dr. King himself. Susan B Anthony was jailed for daring to claim that a woman could vote. And all across history, truth-tellers and advocates and truly good people have suffered and died for the truths they espoused and for the good they sought to do.
Jesus himself even. I often find it funny how hard it is for the disciples to accept Jesus’ passion predictions. Oh, when we get to Jerusalem, I’m going to be arrested and executed. But after three days I’ll rise again. The part about that which is nigh on impossible to believe is the resurrection bit, but the disciples keep getting hung up on the whole arrest and execution part. You’d have to be blind, deaf, and wholly oblivious to reality not to see that coming. But then again, the disciples, like so many of us, believe that good always wins and that evil will never triumph ever.
If you do what your faith calls you to do...If I stand up for the people Jesus would have me stand up for, then there will be consequences. When we feed the poor, when we love the unloveable, when we welcome the outcast and the unwanted, the world will retaliate. How dare we show grace to the undeserving! They will hate us for it, because we do dare. We dare to follow God’s rules and not theirs. They may act on their hate. We may find ourselves in pain, in prison, or even in the grave for our audacity.
But what can they really do? Let them rage impotently, because while “good triumphs always” may be a delusion, “good wins in the end” is not. MLK died, as he once predicted, having never seen “the promised land.” Gandhi got only a brief glimpse of an independent India. The great saints and figures of Hebrew history that our second lesson speaks of also died before the fulfillment of their hopes. But because of them and because of the truths behind their actions, the world is changing. You can see it. Love is overcoming hate, slowly but inevitably. Peace is overcoming violence, slowly but inevitably. Justice is overcoming injustice, slowly but inevitably. The kingdom that God seeks for us is breaking through, bit by bit.
Evil may win in the short run, but God has the last word. The central story of our faith reveals that truth to us. Jesus dies a horrific death on the cross. He was put there by an abuse of justice, killed for the truths that he spoke and the good that he did. Evil seems to win in that moment, but it was only temporary. No, God had the last word then too and on that third day, as predicted, Jesus rose again.
So we may weep at the misfortune that befalls us. We may feel the anger boil within us at injustices done to us. Family may turn away from us. Friends abandon us. Our bodies may fail us. All this is part of life. We may feel that we are with Jesus on that cross, placed there for actions or beliefs that only a twisted world could see as crimes. We may feel like we’re stuck on Friday, but Sunday’s coming. God has the last word, and he has given us a promise. Where there is death, I will bring life again. That promise is our hope and our proof that good indeed will triumph in the end. Amen.
Sunday, August 11, 2013
Sermon for the Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost
Preached at Canadochly Lutheran on August 11, 2013
Scripture Texts: Genesis 15:1-6, Hebrews 11:1-16, Luke 12:32-48
We’ve all played this game at least once in our lives. “If you were stranded on a deserted island...” is how it begins. What usually follows demands that we list a small number of something we would wish to have with us. If you were...what 3 albums would you want to listen to? What five books would you want? What two people would you want stranded with you? And so forth. It’s a thought exercise, one that makes us prioritize what our favorites are or what is most important to us and why. It asks the question, if all else in life were stripped away, what would want to keep most?
In other words, what is your treasure? What matters most to you? The people who are most important...the music you love the most...the ideas (and the books that contain them) that inspire you the most. Our lives are filled with treasures, but what are the most valuable among them? That can be tricky to figure out sometimes, particularly when we realize just how rich we really are. Rich in ideas, rich in love, rich in beauty.
If you think it difficult at times for us to make these sorts of decisions, even for a hypothetical exercise like the desert island, imagine for a moment an even harder one. If God were stranded on a desert island, what of his treasures would he want most?
If the wholeness of our life experience can seem daunting, what about God’s? He has the whole universe before him. Uncounted worlds, the beauty of places human eyes will never look upon. The thoughts, ideas, feelings, and the wondrous creativity of billions of life forms on this planet alone (let alone what else might be out there amidst the stars). It’s daunting to think about.
Yet, despite all that, the answer to the question is rather easy. What matters most to God? What is his treasure? If Scripture is any guide at all, the answer is “us.” We are God’s treasure.
Our Scripture texts for today bear this out. Our Old Testament lesson on the surface doesn’t seem to be anything special. It’s pretty innocuous, or at least as innocuous as a conversation between a mortal and the Almighty can be. Abram’s all depressed, since it seems that he’s not going to have children after all. But God has already made a promise to Abram that from him and his descendants will come a blessing for the whole world. It won’t do for there to be no descendants, so God intervenes. He gives Abram a vision of that vast creation that we only see a small speck of. “Look at what I can do.” God seems to boast. “Do not fear. Your descendants will number as the stars you see before you.”
If Abram didn’t matter, God would not have bothered. If we didn’t matter, God would have had no reason to honor his promises. Who are we in the vast scheme of the universe? Nothing really, except to God. We do matter and God does bother and God does keep his promises.
Which is the very point the author of Hebrews makes. “Look,” he seems to say, “if you want to know about God’s faithfulness, look at Abraham. Thousands of years ago, he was childless. His wife barren, and yet God intervened to make sure his promise came to pass. And the evidence of that is all around us (he is writing to Hebrews after all.) As if that was not enough, there is also Christ, that blessing-that-was-promised, in whom we’ve all come to believe.”
And that brings us to Jesus. Those two other texts are good background for us, because they give us evidence that when Jesus says “do not fear” it’s more than just words. Behind them is a God who will take care of us, who has promised life to us, and who treasures us beyond price. Treasures us enough to send his son into this world to live, to die, and to rise again FOR US.
What then is there to fear? As St. Paul writes, if God is for us, who can be against us?
But Jesus isn’t finished with his instruction in our Gospel. He moves into some metaphorical language about servants being ready for the master’s return. Amidst some of their other duties, a servant is tasked with taking care of the master’s treasure. If our master is God and we are the servants, then what treasure are we meant to care for?
Alright, that was an easy one. Each other of course. We spend a lot of energy trying to figure out what Jesus means when he talks about his Second Coming, his return and how to be ready for it. But this isn’t complicated. If we of God’s creation, made in his image, are his greatest treasure, then we make ready for Christ’s return by taking care of one another.
But when we look out at the state of the world we see what a terrible job we’ve done at that. The master’s household, to use the metaphor, is real mess. People sleep on the streets, without a home or a job to give them worth. Many are ill and we give them no care. Children are hungry. Our aged struggle. And we rationalize our neglect by saying it costs too much.
It costs too much. But what is the value of a human life? God has answered that question on the cross.
That homeless vet on the street. Christ died for him. That family of four in the ghetto that can barely make ends meet. Christ died for them. The old widow who each month must decide between her medicine and her rent. Christ died for her. They are worth more to God than his very life, but we write them off and we do it out of fear.
We talked about greed last week, but what greed really is is fear. Fear of not having enough. Yet we’ve seen God’s promises fulfilled all around us. We’ve seen the lengths he goes to care for us. We seen the treasure he’s showered upon us and yet we doubt his faithfulness. There is no need! Jesus speaks the truth, “Fear not! It is the Father’s pleasure to give us the kingdom.” Even death does not stop God, his as Easter proves or our own. If God is there for us in all things, giving life even in the midst of death, then we can be there for each other and for the whole human race.
This isn’t complicated. The master is coming home to his treasure. Can we be ready? Amen.
Scripture Texts: Genesis 15:1-6, Hebrews 11:1-16, Luke 12:32-48
We’ve all played this game at least once in our lives. “If you were stranded on a deserted island...” is how it begins. What usually follows demands that we list a small number of something we would wish to have with us. If you were...what 3 albums would you want to listen to? What five books would you want? What two people would you want stranded with you? And so forth. It’s a thought exercise, one that makes us prioritize what our favorites are or what is most important to us and why. It asks the question, if all else in life were stripped away, what would want to keep most?
In other words, what is your treasure? What matters most to you? The people who are most important...the music you love the most...the ideas (and the books that contain them) that inspire you the most. Our lives are filled with treasures, but what are the most valuable among them? That can be tricky to figure out sometimes, particularly when we realize just how rich we really are. Rich in ideas, rich in love, rich in beauty.
If you think it difficult at times for us to make these sorts of decisions, even for a hypothetical exercise like the desert island, imagine for a moment an even harder one. If God were stranded on a desert island, what of his treasures would he want most?
If the wholeness of our life experience can seem daunting, what about God’s? He has the whole universe before him. Uncounted worlds, the beauty of places human eyes will never look upon. The thoughts, ideas, feelings, and the wondrous creativity of billions of life forms on this planet alone (let alone what else might be out there amidst the stars). It’s daunting to think about.
Yet, despite all that, the answer to the question is rather easy. What matters most to God? What is his treasure? If Scripture is any guide at all, the answer is “us.” We are God’s treasure.
Our Scripture texts for today bear this out. Our Old Testament lesson on the surface doesn’t seem to be anything special. It’s pretty innocuous, or at least as innocuous as a conversation between a mortal and the Almighty can be. Abram’s all depressed, since it seems that he’s not going to have children after all. But God has already made a promise to Abram that from him and his descendants will come a blessing for the whole world. It won’t do for there to be no descendants, so God intervenes. He gives Abram a vision of that vast creation that we only see a small speck of. “Look at what I can do.” God seems to boast. “Do not fear. Your descendants will number as the stars you see before you.”
If Abram didn’t matter, God would not have bothered. If we didn’t matter, God would have had no reason to honor his promises. Who are we in the vast scheme of the universe? Nothing really, except to God. We do matter and God does bother and God does keep his promises.
Which is the very point the author of Hebrews makes. “Look,” he seems to say, “if you want to know about God’s faithfulness, look at Abraham. Thousands of years ago, he was childless. His wife barren, and yet God intervened to make sure his promise came to pass. And the evidence of that is all around us (he is writing to Hebrews after all.) As if that was not enough, there is also Christ, that blessing-that-was-promised, in whom we’ve all come to believe.”
And that brings us to Jesus. Those two other texts are good background for us, because they give us evidence that when Jesus says “do not fear” it’s more than just words. Behind them is a God who will take care of us, who has promised life to us, and who treasures us beyond price. Treasures us enough to send his son into this world to live, to die, and to rise again FOR US.
What then is there to fear? As St. Paul writes, if God is for us, who can be against us?
But Jesus isn’t finished with his instruction in our Gospel. He moves into some metaphorical language about servants being ready for the master’s return. Amidst some of their other duties, a servant is tasked with taking care of the master’s treasure. If our master is God and we are the servants, then what treasure are we meant to care for?
Alright, that was an easy one. Each other of course. We spend a lot of energy trying to figure out what Jesus means when he talks about his Second Coming, his return and how to be ready for it. But this isn’t complicated. If we of God’s creation, made in his image, are his greatest treasure, then we make ready for Christ’s return by taking care of one another.
But when we look out at the state of the world we see what a terrible job we’ve done at that. The master’s household, to use the metaphor, is real mess. People sleep on the streets, without a home or a job to give them worth. Many are ill and we give them no care. Children are hungry. Our aged struggle. And we rationalize our neglect by saying it costs too much.
It costs too much. But what is the value of a human life? God has answered that question on the cross.
That homeless vet on the street. Christ died for him. That family of four in the ghetto that can barely make ends meet. Christ died for them. The old widow who each month must decide between her medicine and her rent. Christ died for her. They are worth more to God than his very life, but we write them off and we do it out of fear.
We talked about greed last week, but what greed really is is fear. Fear of not having enough. Yet we’ve seen God’s promises fulfilled all around us. We’ve seen the lengths he goes to care for us. We seen the treasure he’s showered upon us and yet we doubt his faithfulness. There is no need! Jesus speaks the truth, “Fear not! It is the Father’s pleasure to give us the kingdom.” Even death does not stop God, his as Easter proves or our own. If God is there for us in all things, giving life even in the midst of death, then we can be there for each other and for the whole human race.
This isn’t complicated. The master is coming home to his treasure. Can we be ready? Amen.
Sunday, August 4, 2013
Sermon for the 11th Sunday after Pentecost
Preached on August 4, 2013 at Canadochly Lutheran Church
Scripture: Luke 12:13-21
It was 1990, a Saturday. I was 17 years old and a little too old to enjoy the Saturday morning cartoon fare (back when there was such a thing.) I was waiting eagerly for the music video show that would follow the cartoons. That was back when MTV still showed music videos but if you didn’t have cable (which we didn’t) you still had a few choices to catch the latest groups with their latest videos. The show began with the new song by George Michael, back when he was big. I didn’t particularly care for his music, but I watched anyway. The song that played next has haunted me for the nearly 23 years since.
The song was called Praying for Time. It was such a contrast to everything else that was going on in those times. We had won the Cold War. The Berlin Wall had come down. The Soviet Union was finished. It was a time of hope and joy and jubilation, but here was a song that was dark, despairing, full of anxiety about the state of things. It was as if Mr. Michael had realized something the rest of us had missed; that despite the historical events happening around us, what really mattered hadn’t changed. Human beings had been on a dangerous road and we still were.
His words and thoughts have proven prophetic. Let me read a few lyrics to you and ask yourself, “Were these written for America 20 years ago or today?”
Money, possessions, stuff, greed. These didn’t go away when our nation bested its political enemies. If anything, they’ve spent the past two decades festering in the soul of America, an infection that has spread far and wide. Look at the results. Take the Wal-Mart heirs for instance. These six individuals have more wealth than the bottom 200 MILLION Americans and they’re not even the richest people in the country. That’s...obscene and yet it’s applauded. It’s what many of us aspire towards. We want to be them, have what they have. After all, that’s the American dream...or so we’ve come to believe.
But maybe we see ourself as among the few who don’t care for such things. We hold onto some righteous indignation over this vast divide between the haves and have-nots. But I’d wager that we too are infected by this virus of greed and avarice and I’ll even prove it. Picture in your mind a poor person and then ask yourself...
....is this person lazy?
....is this person on drugs?
....is this person mooching on welfare?
....is this person a criminal?
If you answered yes to any of those questions, you are among the guilty. Wealth has become a mechanism to judge a person’s moral character. The rich are good, pure, honest, hard-working, virtuous. But the poor are thieves, lazy, good-for-nothing, mooching off society. This is the twisted side of our obsession with greed. We damn the have-nots for not having. We try to legislate punishment for their moral failings: abolish food stamps, require drug tests for government services, limit unemployment insurance, and a whole host of other things that have come into vogue. Let’s starve the poor into becoming rich. Yeah, that’ll work. Societies that have gone down that road in past history have frequently found themselves on the business end of riots, insurrection, and outright revolt. Ask the French...or the Russians. Didn't work out so well for them.
Greed nearly destroyed them and it could do the same to us.
We’ve been warned, if not from the words of a 20 year old song then certainly from the words of Jesus himself. “Be on guard against all kinds of greed. Life does not consist of an abundance of possessions.” How poorly we’ve listened. We keep building bigger and bigger barns. And the rich keep filling them up, while the rest of us bank that the bill of good we’ve been sold by society, that hard work and tenacity matter and will be enough to fill at least one barn. But it’s all futile. He who dies with the most toys is still dead. And what sort of damage are we doing to ourselves and to others in this mad quest?
We’ve lost sight of what has value in this world. People have value. Love has value. Compassion has value. Money does not have value, not really. It is a tool, a means to an end, not an end to itself. Money could be used so many better ways than what we use it for. We could provide food for those who hunger. We could put a roof over the heads of those who sleep on the streets. We could create jobs for those without to work. We could have all these things and so much more if we weren’t trying to hoard what we have.
“But...but...but....” I can hear the objections already. I can hear them in myself. What if I don’t have enough? What if I run out and suddenly I’m the one starving on the streets? That’s where faith comes in.
God created you, breathed life into you. He sent his Son into this world to live, die, and then rise again to grant you life eternal. Every day, he showers you with blessings and guards your life from danger. We can go forth in faith and use our resources for betterment of others freely because God will not abandon us. Remember what I said last week. There is NOTHING that we can do to make God stop loving us. And if that is true of us when we are at our worst, how then can it not be true also when we are at our best?
Greed lies to us. Tells us that if only we had more we would safe and happy. But safety and happiness only come through God and his promises. We have those promises. We do! When we start trusting in those promises and when we start living in that trust, then we will see a new world born. A world where none will lack and the lies of greed will be exposed for what they are. That’s what could be. We can pray for that world and we can create it, so long as we put our trust where it belongs: in the one that loves us so much to die on a cross for us. Money didn't do that. Wealth didn't do that. God did. Amen.
Scripture: Luke 12:13-21
It was 1990, a Saturday. I was 17 years old and a little too old to enjoy the Saturday morning cartoon fare (back when there was such a thing.) I was waiting eagerly for the music video show that would follow the cartoons. That was back when MTV still showed music videos but if you didn’t have cable (which we didn’t) you still had a few choices to catch the latest groups with their latest videos. The show began with the new song by George Michael, back when he was big. I didn’t particularly care for his music, but I watched anyway. The song that played next has haunted me for the nearly 23 years since.
The song was called Praying for Time. It was such a contrast to everything else that was going on in those times. We had won the Cold War. The Berlin Wall had come down. The Soviet Union was finished. It was a time of hope and joy and jubilation, but here was a song that was dark, despairing, full of anxiety about the state of things. It was as if Mr. Michael had realized something the rest of us had missed; that despite the historical events happening around us, what really mattered hadn’t changed. Human beings had been on a dangerous road and we still were.
His words and thoughts have proven prophetic. Let me read a few lyrics to you and ask yourself, “Were these written for America 20 years ago or today?”
These are the days of the empty hand
Oh you hold on to what you can
And charity is a coat you wear twice a year
This is the year of the guilty man
Your television takes a stand
And you find that what was over there is over here
So you scream from behind your door
Say "what's mine is mine and not yours"
I may have too much but i'll take my chances
Because god's stopped keeping score
And you cling to the things they sold you
Did you cover your eyes when they told you
That he can't come back
Because he has no children to come back for
It's hard to love there's so much to hate
Hanging on to hope when there is no hope to speak of
And the wounded skies above say it's much too late
So maybe we should all be praying for time
Money, possessions, stuff, greed. These didn’t go away when our nation bested its political enemies. If anything, they’ve spent the past two decades festering in the soul of America, an infection that has spread far and wide. Look at the results. Take the Wal-Mart heirs for instance. These six individuals have more wealth than the bottom 200 MILLION Americans and they’re not even the richest people in the country. That’s...obscene and yet it’s applauded. It’s what many of us aspire towards. We want to be them, have what they have. After all, that’s the American dream...or so we’ve come to believe.
But maybe we see ourself as among the few who don’t care for such things. We hold onto some righteous indignation over this vast divide between the haves and have-nots. But I’d wager that we too are infected by this virus of greed and avarice and I’ll even prove it. Picture in your mind a poor person and then ask yourself...
....is this person lazy?
....is this person on drugs?
....is this person mooching on welfare?
....is this person a criminal?
If you answered yes to any of those questions, you are among the guilty. Wealth has become a mechanism to judge a person’s moral character. The rich are good, pure, honest, hard-working, virtuous. But the poor are thieves, lazy, good-for-nothing, mooching off society. This is the twisted side of our obsession with greed. We damn the have-nots for not having. We try to legislate punishment for their moral failings: abolish food stamps, require drug tests for government services, limit unemployment insurance, and a whole host of other things that have come into vogue. Let’s starve the poor into becoming rich. Yeah, that’ll work. Societies that have gone down that road in past history have frequently found themselves on the business end of riots, insurrection, and outright revolt. Ask the French...or the Russians. Didn't work out so well for them.
Greed nearly destroyed them and it could do the same to us.
We’ve been warned, if not from the words of a 20 year old song then certainly from the words of Jesus himself. “Be on guard against all kinds of greed. Life does not consist of an abundance of possessions.” How poorly we’ve listened. We keep building bigger and bigger barns. And the rich keep filling them up, while the rest of us bank that the bill of good we’ve been sold by society, that hard work and tenacity matter and will be enough to fill at least one barn. But it’s all futile. He who dies with the most toys is still dead. And what sort of damage are we doing to ourselves and to others in this mad quest?
We’ve lost sight of what has value in this world. People have value. Love has value. Compassion has value. Money does not have value, not really. It is a tool, a means to an end, not an end to itself. Money could be used so many better ways than what we use it for. We could provide food for those who hunger. We could put a roof over the heads of those who sleep on the streets. We could create jobs for those without to work. We could have all these things and so much more if we weren’t trying to hoard what we have.
“But...but...but....” I can hear the objections already. I can hear them in myself. What if I don’t have enough? What if I run out and suddenly I’m the one starving on the streets? That’s where faith comes in.
God created you, breathed life into you. He sent his Son into this world to live, die, and then rise again to grant you life eternal. Every day, he showers you with blessings and guards your life from danger. We can go forth in faith and use our resources for betterment of others freely because God will not abandon us. Remember what I said last week. There is NOTHING that we can do to make God stop loving us. And if that is true of us when we are at our worst, how then can it not be true also when we are at our best?
Greed lies to us. Tells us that if only we had more we would safe and happy. But safety and happiness only come through God and his promises. We have those promises. We do! When we start trusting in those promises and when we start living in that trust, then we will see a new world born. A world where none will lack and the lies of greed will be exposed for what they are. That’s what could be. We can pray for that world and we can create it, so long as we put our trust where it belongs: in the one that loves us so much to die on a cross for us. Money didn't do that. Wealth didn't do that. God did. Amen.
Friday, August 2, 2013
Sermon for 10th Sunday after Pentecost
Preached at Canadochly Lutheran on 7/28/13
Scripture: Genesis 18:20-33
It was quite a while ago now. A good friend of mine was in the midst of a rough patch in life. Struggling to figure out what she wanted to do with herself. Struggling with an alcoholic ex-boyfriend, borderline abusive and certainly neglectful. This after a string of bad relationships, family difficulties, and health problems.
I had invited her along to a seminary event, a time of prayer and worship that I hoped would give her a moment of peace in the turmoil of her life. Her difficulties were, of course, the heart of all our conversations that day. At one point, I asked, “Aren't you angry at God for all that's happened to you?” She said no.
I was. It was the reason I asked the question. I was angry. This was someone I cared about a great deal (we were dating at the time), and the unfairness of her life had finally gotten to me. She was getting a bum deal in my opinion. I was angry and, in truth, despite her denials, I think she was too.
That happens more often that I think we care to admit. Life's injustices, both big and small, can get to any of us after a while. But we're afraid to be honest about the anger that we feel in those circumstances. And I'm not sure what it is that we're afraid of.
Do we fear that it will harm our faith? Oh, there's a lot of people out there like that. “I'm so angry at you, God, that I won't believe in you anymore.” Interestingly enough, many atheists don't take these people very seriously because they know the truth. They still believe; they just don't want to admit it. Like Mel Gibson's apostate preacher character in the movie Signs. “Why are doing this to us?” he snarls at God throughout the movie, each statement a prayer in disguise.
What is it we fear? Do we think God will retaliate somehow? Make things worse? I find it hard to believe God would do that. After all, this is the one who sent his son to live, die, and then rise again to save us from sin and death. He's obviously pretty committed to us. He obviously loves us. He obviously has power beyond our comprehension. I think he's big enough to handle our anger.
And that's the piece we so often miss: the freedom that grace gives us. Yeah, life sucks sometimes. Tell God about it. Let him have it with both barrels. Even argue with him if you must. He can handle it.
Our Hebrew forebears understood this far better than we do. Which is one reason why our Old Testament lesson today comes as something of a shock to us. This is an argument between God and Abraham. One of many such arguments that occur throughout the Old Testament. Moses on the mountaintop of Sinai argues with God. Jonah argues with God. Job argues with God. Half the psalms are arguments. People are ticked off about what's going on. They think God's being unfair. Most of the time, we mortals lose those arguments, but there are a few times when we win.
Can you imagine that? Having an argument with God and winning. Of the examples I just gave, Moses does just that. They're at the top of Mt Sinai. Moses has just gotten the Ten Commandments and the people of Israel are down at the foot of the mountain having a good old time with that whole Golden Calf thing. God's ticked. He tells Moses, “I've had it with these people. I'm going to destroy them all and start over.”
Moses says back to God. “No, you're not.” and then argues with him. Read about it in the 32nd chapter of Exodus sometimes. In the end, God relents. Moses wins the argument.
We can hardly imagine doing something like that, and yet there it is, in the Bible right in front of us. The truth is, we are too much the descendants of our Greek forebears than of our Hebrew ones. The Greeks with all their philosophy, most of which is a good thing, but in this case not so much.
In this case, it's the “platonic ideal” that gets in our way. And what is that? Take a chair for instance. The platonic ideal says there is such a thing as a perfect chair, ideal for all circumstances, perfect in every way, something ever chair aspires to be and falls short. When we apply this philosophical construct to God (which we do all the time without realizing it), we envision God's perfection in this ideal way. That makes God distant and unchanging, makes prayer a gesture of futility. God's made up his mind, he's not going to change it. But the Hebrews understood God as relational, like a friend or a parent or a spouse. You love them, you talk with them, and on occasion, you get mad at them. And vice versa.
Which brings us back to Abraham and his argument with God over Sodom and Gomorrah. Notice what's going here. God's angry and he has good reason to be. His angels who had gone into the cities to visit with Abraham's cousin Lot were nearly gang-raped by a howling mob. Hardly a friendly reception. But Abraham says something that gives God pause. “You're really going to destroy everybody because of the actions of a few?”And then the debate begins. How many righteous people will it take for God to spare the city? Abraham is clearly winning the argument. Every time he brings up a number, God relents. But in the end, Abraham loses, because there are still too few righteous in the cities.
This story is frustrating to me because I think Abraham gave up too early. You want to know how to win an argument with God? It's easy. You bank on his mercy. It's the lesson Jesus is trying to teach in our Gospel lesson and it's what Abraham is doing here. It's how Moses won his argument. Lord, will you not show mercy? I am completely convinced that Abraham could have talked God down even further, and that for Lot and his family alone the cities might have been spared. I believe that because how many righteous does it take to spare the whole human race? Just one: Jesus Christ.
That's who God is. That's the depth of his love and mercy for us. You can never go wrong counting on that. Life is hard. It throws stuff at us all the time. We get hit with misfortune, disease, accident, relationship difficulty, financial ruin, and a whole host of other disasters all the time. And it's okay to get mad about that and it's okay to tell God about that anger. He can handle it. He's big enough and he's forgiven you worse things. So go ahead, get angry when life turns sour. There's nothing you can do to make God stop loving you. Nothing it all.
Lord, will you not show mercy in our time of need? Of course, he will. Amen.
Scripture: Genesis 18:20-33
It was quite a while ago now. A good friend of mine was in the midst of a rough patch in life. Struggling to figure out what she wanted to do with herself. Struggling with an alcoholic ex-boyfriend, borderline abusive and certainly neglectful. This after a string of bad relationships, family difficulties, and health problems.
I had invited her along to a seminary event, a time of prayer and worship that I hoped would give her a moment of peace in the turmoil of her life. Her difficulties were, of course, the heart of all our conversations that day. At one point, I asked, “Aren't you angry at God for all that's happened to you?” She said no.
I was. It was the reason I asked the question. I was angry. This was someone I cared about a great deal (we were dating at the time), and the unfairness of her life had finally gotten to me. She was getting a bum deal in my opinion. I was angry and, in truth, despite her denials, I think she was too.
That happens more often that I think we care to admit. Life's injustices, both big and small, can get to any of us after a while. But we're afraid to be honest about the anger that we feel in those circumstances. And I'm not sure what it is that we're afraid of.
Do we fear that it will harm our faith? Oh, there's a lot of people out there like that. “I'm so angry at you, God, that I won't believe in you anymore.” Interestingly enough, many atheists don't take these people very seriously because they know the truth. They still believe; they just don't want to admit it. Like Mel Gibson's apostate preacher character in the movie Signs. “Why are doing this to us?” he snarls at God throughout the movie, each statement a prayer in disguise.
What is it we fear? Do we think God will retaliate somehow? Make things worse? I find it hard to believe God would do that. After all, this is the one who sent his son to live, die, and then rise again to save us from sin and death. He's obviously pretty committed to us. He obviously loves us. He obviously has power beyond our comprehension. I think he's big enough to handle our anger.
And that's the piece we so often miss: the freedom that grace gives us. Yeah, life sucks sometimes. Tell God about it. Let him have it with both barrels. Even argue with him if you must. He can handle it.
Our Hebrew forebears understood this far better than we do. Which is one reason why our Old Testament lesson today comes as something of a shock to us. This is an argument between God and Abraham. One of many such arguments that occur throughout the Old Testament. Moses on the mountaintop of Sinai argues with God. Jonah argues with God. Job argues with God. Half the psalms are arguments. People are ticked off about what's going on. They think God's being unfair. Most of the time, we mortals lose those arguments, but there are a few times when we win.
Can you imagine that? Having an argument with God and winning. Of the examples I just gave, Moses does just that. They're at the top of Mt Sinai. Moses has just gotten the Ten Commandments and the people of Israel are down at the foot of the mountain having a good old time with that whole Golden Calf thing. God's ticked. He tells Moses, “I've had it with these people. I'm going to destroy them all and start over.”
Moses says back to God. “No, you're not.” and then argues with him. Read about it in the 32nd chapter of Exodus sometimes. In the end, God relents. Moses wins the argument.
We can hardly imagine doing something like that, and yet there it is, in the Bible right in front of us. The truth is, we are too much the descendants of our Greek forebears than of our Hebrew ones. The Greeks with all their philosophy, most of which is a good thing, but in this case not so much.
In this case, it's the “platonic ideal” that gets in our way. And what is that? Take a chair for instance. The platonic ideal says there is such a thing as a perfect chair, ideal for all circumstances, perfect in every way, something ever chair aspires to be and falls short. When we apply this philosophical construct to God (which we do all the time without realizing it), we envision God's perfection in this ideal way. That makes God distant and unchanging, makes prayer a gesture of futility. God's made up his mind, he's not going to change it. But the Hebrews understood God as relational, like a friend or a parent or a spouse. You love them, you talk with them, and on occasion, you get mad at them. And vice versa.
Which brings us back to Abraham and his argument with God over Sodom and Gomorrah. Notice what's going here. God's angry and he has good reason to be. His angels who had gone into the cities to visit with Abraham's cousin Lot were nearly gang-raped by a howling mob. Hardly a friendly reception. But Abraham says something that gives God pause. “You're really going to destroy everybody because of the actions of a few?”And then the debate begins. How many righteous people will it take for God to spare the city? Abraham is clearly winning the argument. Every time he brings up a number, God relents. But in the end, Abraham loses, because there are still too few righteous in the cities.
This story is frustrating to me because I think Abraham gave up too early. You want to know how to win an argument with God? It's easy. You bank on his mercy. It's the lesson Jesus is trying to teach in our Gospel lesson and it's what Abraham is doing here. It's how Moses won his argument. Lord, will you not show mercy? I am completely convinced that Abraham could have talked God down even further, and that for Lot and his family alone the cities might have been spared. I believe that because how many righteous does it take to spare the whole human race? Just one: Jesus Christ.
That's who God is. That's the depth of his love and mercy for us. You can never go wrong counting on that. Life is hard. It throws stuff at us all the time. We get hit with misfortune, disease, accident, relationship difficulty, financial ruin, and a whole host of other disasters all the time. And it's okay to get mad about that and it's okay to tell God about that anger. He can handle it. He's big enough and he's forgiven you worse things. So go ahead, get angry when life turns sour. There's nothing you can do to make God stop loving you. Nothing it all.
Lord, will you not show mercy in our time of need? Of course, he will. Amen.
Welcome
Hello everyone,
In our on-going efforts to use the Internet as a means to expand our reach as a church, I've decided to create a blog onto which I can post my sermons. I'll link to this page from the Canadochly Lutheran Church Facebook page and (eventually, once it's up) from our website. I hope to post each sermon on the Sunday it is preached in church (or same day for sermons preached outside the normal worship times.)
Enjoy and God bless
Pastor Allen
In our on-going efforts to use the Internet as a means to expand our reach as a church, I've decided to create a blog onto which I can post my sermons. I'll link to this page from the Canadochly Lutheran Church Facebook page and (eventually, once it's up) from our website. I hope to post each sermon on the Sunday it is preached in church (or same day for sermons preached outside the normal worship times.)
Enjoy and God bless
Pastor Allen
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