Sermon for Christ the King

Preached at Canadochly and Grace on November 25, 2018
Preaching text: John 18:33-37

Why was Jesus crucified? That’s one of those questions we don’t ask in the church; again, because we think we know the answer. Theologically, we do know the answer. It’s because of us and our sin. But even there, there is some disagreement on precisely how so. What is known as “substitutionary atonement” in scholarly circles is still quite popular; Jesus takes our sin upon himself and dies in our place, taking on the punishment we’ve earned instead of us. I’m fond of what I call “demonstrative atonement,” which is a term I’ve invented myself although there may be a more appropriate scholarly name that I don’t know. The idea is the cross is a demonstration of just how far Christ, and therefore God, is willing to go for the sake of the human race; even to the cross and its horrific death will he go to show how much he loves us.

Demonstrative atonement in a nutshell

I'm on a bit of a tangent here. These don’t really answer the question I’m asking; I'm not asking for the theological reason Jesus died. I'm asking for the legalistic reason he died. What was his crime? Again, the easy answer is “there wasn’t one.” Jesus was killed just because; he was innocent. True, but even tyrannies will create the pretense of some lawbreaking to justify their cruelty. What then was the pretense? One could say “blasphemy,” the charge the religious leaders level against him. But a Roman court would not care about the nuances of Jewish religious law, and it was a Roman court that condemned him.

No, to the Romans, Jesus was a threat because he claimed to be a king. And that would be treason.

The Gospel stories tend to show Pilate as rather blase towards the threat Jesus poses. That’s either because Pilate did not take Jesus seriously or because the Gospels were written in a futile attempt to paint the Romans in a good light by making Pilate sympathetic. But make no mistake. Jesus was seen as a threat by the powers that be. His talk of a Kingdom of God was not going to go by unanswered.

And that shouldn’t be any surprise to us. What is the kingdom of God? It’s nearly impossible to answer that question in its entirety but we do have pieces of that puzzle. It’s a place where the hungry are fed, the sick are healed, the lost are found, the outcast is welcomed, and death is no more. It’s a kingdom of life for all people.

Now compare that to the kingdoms, the nations of this world. Each ruled by a person or persons who derive their position via power. And what power is that? It’s the power of death. It’s the power that says to the hungry, I’ll feed you if you obey me. It says to the sick, I’ll heal you if you obey me. It says to the lost and the outcast, stay that way and serve as an example of what happens to those who defy me. Death is the tool of rulership. Fall in line or die.

Every nation in this world, throughout history and today, operates from that mindset to some degree. Even our own. If you are hungry or sick, yes there are services available, but one must fulfill criteria to receive them; they must obey the rules or be denied what they need. And there are lost and outcast in our midst. Immigrants, people of color, LGBT, Muslims, Jews, and countless others are seen with great suspicion by the majority. We may not kill them (well, not all of them), but they often do live as second class in our midst. Death or the threat thereof still serves to keep people in line.

The kingdom of God turns all of that on its head and it proves a threat to even the most enlightened or civilized societies. If Jesus is king, then Caesar is not. If Jesus is king, then Trump or Obama or Bush or Clinton is not.

For many of its centuries, the Church has tried to have it both ways. The flag and the cross together, perhaps with hopes the cross will sanctify the flag and the nation is represents. The truth is, throughout history and perhaps even now, what happens instead is the flag replaces the cross and the Church plays along with the mainstream of society, becoming the most fanatical defender of the status quo. We justify the power structure. We use Scripture to deny food to the hungry or health to the sick. We use Scripture to create the outcast. And Caesar nods with approval.

But there are those who remember what the kingdom of God is about. Names across history: Thomas Becket, Martin Luther, Joan of Arc, Thomas Cranmer, Jan Hus, Oscar Romero, Martin Luther King, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, and hundreds of others. They remembered what the Church is for. They remembered truly who is on the throne: Jesus Christ. They share something else in common. They were all killed by the powers-that-be or very nearly so. They threatened the kingdoms of the world with the kingdom of God and they suffered and/or died just as Jesus did.

Every generation of Christian faces this question. We live in a terrible world, led by unjust people and/or unjust systems. The kingdom we hear of in worship spaces like this is 180 degree opposite of the world outside. Who bears our true allegiance? Do we play along with the world? It’s the safe way, and the way the institutional church has often gone. Or do we defy the ways of the world and seek to bring some small portion of the kingdom of God here and now into this world and in doing so give the world a taste of what is to come?

I’m sure it’s no surprise for anyone who’s heard me preach this long to know that I’ve chosen the latter, whatever it may bring. I remember what God has said to me in his Scriptures. Where I am, you shall be also. Let the world rage. Let it kill me if it must. I am baptized in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit and Caesar cannot take that from me. Nor can all the powers of this world. If any of you choose likewise, you can live secure in that truth as well.

But even if you don’t, there is another truth. Caesar’s world will pass away. Christ will come and inaugurate the kingdom in its fullness one day. And the nations will fall. They will be no more and the kingdom where the sick are healed, the poor are fed, the outcast welcomed, and dead live again will come. It will be here and Caesar, or whatever form he might take now, cannot stop it. Bide your time if you feel you must and know that this present darkness will indeed give way to Christ’s unstoppable light. That is our hope. That is our promise. Amen.

Sermon for the 26th Sunday after Pentecost

Preached at Grace and Canadochly on November 18, 2018
Preaching text: Mark 13:1-8

There is a joke I like to tell about my experiences going to visit Manhattan. You can always tell those who are tourists in NYC, because they're always the ones doing this. (Look up.) I'll confess I'm one of them. Now I've been to NYC dozens of times. I've visited other big cities numerous times as well, yet I am always ALWAYS awestruck by the immense size of the Manhattan skyline. All those skyscrapers, all over the place. Among my myriad interests, I love interesting architecture and Manhattan has that in spades. I get a crick in my neck just taking it all in. As do many many others.

It's easy therefore for me to imagine the disciples in Jesus' day having the same reaction in Jerusalem. While the buildings of that time would not compare to today's architectural wonders, they would be some of the largest and most impressive structures of their time. Antonia fortress, Herod's palace, the Temple, all among some of the largest buildings in the world at that time and would have awestruck anyone who was used to the simple one-story structures of your typical Palestinian village. No wonder they respond to them the way they do in our Gospel lesson today.

Jesus however pours cold water on their mood. "All this that you see will soon no longer exist." He wasn't wrong either. Some 40 years later, the Romans would march into Jerusalem to quell the rebellion there and sack the city, destroying everything: the temple, the palaces, even their own fortress. All would become ruin.

Nothing lasts forever.

Which is a lesson none of us humans are terribly keen on hearing. We hunger for a sort of physical immortality. Even when we're aware of our own death whenever it comes, we hope for something of our life to linger after us, something we created: a story, a work of art, an institution we were a part of, a family, anything that might carry forward a part of us into an infinite future. The greater or more impressive that thing is, the more we reason it will last forever. But they never do.

How many stories were written in the Middle Ages by people not named Chaucer? Do you even remember who he is and his most famous work? How many symphonies were composed by people not named Beethoven or Mozart or Brahms? Will any of them still be remembered in a generation or two? How many buildings built by the great architects of the 18th century still stand? Can you name any of their builders? No, time erodes all. I'm reminded of a line in one of my favorite films, Excalibur, where the wizard Merlin chastises King Arthur and his knights: "For it is the doom of men that they forget."

Indeed we do. Nothing lasts forever.

Jesus reminds us of this and then launches into another warning. Be not so easily impressed by those who come into the world making wild claims. Those who would claim the mantle of Messiah and savior, who say they will build that which will last forever. Many of them will even claim to speak for Christ himself.

We've already seen some of these sorts over the past several centuries. The corrupt popes of the Middle Ages and the Renaissance claimed to speak for Christ, and in Jesus' name, they launched Crusades, Inquisitions, genocides, and witch burnings. Blood upon blood, all in the name of the one who said to love our enemies and to forgive those who persecute and abuse us. Hitler promised a 1000 year Reich and said he would restore Germany to its true Christian origins and yet he washed Europe in the blood of millions before he was stopped. Even today, there are those who claim to follow Christ and yet call upon those who will listen to them to hate those who are different, to destroy the gay or the black or the Latino, who will demand we enslave anew women as was done in past generations, and say this is all God's will. Putin in Russia remains popular despite his brutality precisely because these are his claims and now there are far too many here in American who admire him as well and for those same reasons.

"Deus vult!" God wills it! The call of the Crusaders from a thousand years ago still echoes today and, as it did then, leads only to evil. And that's precisely what happens when we forget who Jesus really is.

It's a sad truth when we look through history to see how many atrocities have been committed by those who claim to follow Christ and yet seem to have no remembrance of his teachings. Jesus loved his enemies, forgave even those who crucified him. He healed the sick, welcomed the stranger, made disciples of the outcast. He welcomes all who came to him: Jew, Samaritan, Greek, Roman. It didn't matter where you came from, what nation claimed your allegiance, or even what gods you worshiped. How many of the charlatans who followed after him and claimed to work in his name did likewise?

Jesus' warning is to remind us that their work will not last, no more so than the impressive buildings of Jerusalem. Their foundation is in human vice and ambition, not in God's true will. If we seek what is truly eternal, what is truly immortal, there's only one place to look: To Jesus himself and not to those who claim to be like him. All else is vanity. All else will fade away.

As we live into the times of tumult that Jesus warned us about, let's not forget Jesus. Let's not forget his teachings or his actions. He who went to the cross and the empty tomb for all of humanity, not just one part or our part. He who loved all, embraced all, forgave all. These are the marks of eternity. These are what will truly last forever. Do not forget. Amen.

Sermon for the 25th Sunday after Pentecost

Preached at Canadochly and Grace on November 11, 2018
Preaching text: 1 Kings 17:8-16, Mark 12:38-44

“For all of them have contributed out of their abundance; but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.”

So ends the famous story of the widow’s mite. We’ve heard this tale of Jesus before. He is in the temple, watching the people come in and out, donating their tithes and offerings. Many wealthy people give generously (Good for them), and then comes this widow who gives her literal last two cents into the treasury. Jesus then commends her for this act.

The thing is we never ask why he is so impressed by this woman. The reason we never ask is because we think we already know the answer, but the problem is this is one of the most misunderstood passages in all of Scripture. We think this another story of sacrifice, like Jesus and the rich young man, who is commended to “sell all that (he) has, give to the poor, and then come follow me.” But it’s not that at all.

In fact, Jesus’ instructions to that rich young man give us a clue to his mindset. “Sell all and give to those who lack.” Give to the poor. Can you think of anywhere in Scripture where Jesus said that sort of thing to someone who was already poor? I’ll make it easy on you. You won’t, because it doesn’t exist. Jesus only ever asks that sort of sacrifice of those who have, never of those who have not.

This is not a story about sacrifice. But if it’s not that, what then is it about?

We get a clue in our Old Testament lesson. The prophet Elijah is traveling abroad in the midst of a horrific famine. He comes to the territory of Sidon, following God’s instruction, to the town of Zarephath. There, he encounters a starving widow. He asks her for some food. It’s easy to imagine her giving him some side eye as she says, “The only food I have is enough for one meal for my son and I before we starve and you want some of it?” The prophet then reassures her, that despite all appearances, her food will not run and she and her son will not starve. She then goes and does as he asks.

It’s not hard to guess what this Sidonese widow is thinking. Well, it’s all over anyway. Why not? What’s the hurt when we’re just going to die anyway? I have nothing to lose, so I will trust this stranger and his wild claims.

We have a phrase for that in our language. We call that a “leap of faith.”

And her faith is rewarded. She takes a chance on God and he does not let her down. The food does not run out. She, her son, and the prophet Elijah eat for many days on barely enough to provide a single meal. A miracle, but also a lesson.

Fast forward a few hundred years and we find ourselves back at the temple with Jesus and his disciples. It is, I believe, quite likely that this widow in this place and time is trying to emulate her Sidonese forebear. I have nothing to lose. I have nothing left but these two coins. So I will take a leap of faith and trust that God will provide.

It’s not a story about sacrifice; it’s a story about faith.

Scholars have noted the irony of someone impoverished putting money into the temple treasury, because that was the money the temple officials used to HELP the poor of the community (or, at least, that was what it was supposed to do.) By giving away her pittance, this widow is screaming out to the world, “Save me, because I cannot save myself.”

And boy, are there a lot of lessons in that.

This is why Jesus commends this woman so. She has placed her entire trust in God. That is faith. That is why we’re here. We come to this church each week to pray to God, “Save me, because I cannot save myself.” And we can’t.

The danger of wealth or strength or power or ego or any of the other idols we often bow to is that they trick us into forgetting this simple truth. “We don’t need God,” we lie to ourselves, “we have money or prestige or whatever.” That one of the key reasons Jesus asks the sacrifice of the wealthy and commends them to give away their riches. Not only will it do more work for the kingdom in supporting the poor, but it will pull those people away from its illusory safety and remind them of how much they really need God.

We all do, whether we know it or not, because we cannot save ourselves. Only Christ can. And Christ does because he loves us, giving his very life for our sake on the cross.

That may sound to us a bit like Elijah asking for a cake when we have nothing left: crazy, unrealistic, just nonsense. But we too are called as these widows were to take a leap of faith and trust in God. We are far from having nothing, but that does not mean we need God any less. Trust in him and he will save you. Amen. 

Sermon for the Funeral of Edith Smeltzer

Preached at Canadochly on November 7, 2018
Preaching text: Ephesians 6:1-9, Revelation 7:9-17

We talk about God as a mystery, that there are always things unknown about his nature. This means that as we learn more and more of this mystery, our faith, our religions evolve. New ideas are introduced. Old ones fade away.

Why do I mention this today? Because there was once a time when the worshipers of God did not believe in a life after death. They did not know this was a gift that God was eager and willing to offer, a gift he was planning to give via the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. The ancients believed instead that the best blessings God could give were a long life and many many children and grandchildren.

Well, the ancients may have been somewhat short-sighted, but they weren’t wrong. Many years of life and a prosperous and numerous family are still blessings in these days. And they were gifts granted to Edith in abundance.

That will likely always be my memory of her. I visited her at home numerous times throughout my service as her pastor, bringing conversation and communion to her after she could not come to church on her own. Which, I should add, she did well into her 90s. Anyway, I would come into her bedroom, there at the front of her house, and the whole right-side wall was covered in photographs: wedding pictures, graduation pictures, family portraits, school photos. You name it, it was up there and it all her children and their children and their children. I’d look at those photos every time I was there. We’d often talk about them, about the people in them and the things they’d accomplish in life. Edith was proud of her family.

And I also know her family was proud of her.

When Gene called me about planning this service, he selected a passage from Ephesians that highlighted the loyalty he and his family showed to Edith and the love they had for her. I saw that first hand. Edith would always talk about the fact that pretty much every day, one of her children would stop by to see her. Sometimes, that would even happen when I was there. This was a tight knit family. A family that loved one another, who cared about and for one another. And yes, that truly is a blessing.

It occured to me when I was thinking about how the ancients thought about the blessing of family, it made me realize something. There’s a fringe benefit for God when he showers that blessing on someone, because it’s an opportunity for him to show more of his love. When we look to the future of God’s family, seen by John and recorded by him in the book of Revelation, we see that great host of people of all tribes, nations, colors, and languages. I am reminded again of Edith’s wall. Perhaps not quite so diverse or expansive as John’s vision, but her wall of photos has something in common with that vision. They are both bound by love and loyalty.

I also believe that the people on that wall are among those John saw in his vision. And that is also a blessing.

That’s, of course, because of Jesus and what he did for his family. The family of humanity, of which, of course, Edith was a part. Jesus came to this world, the Son of God incarnate, to reveal to us part of that divine mystery. To show us God’s love for humanity. And he showed that by blessing children, showing hospitality to strangers, and healing the sick. Not coincidentally, all the same things that good loving mothers and grandmothers do for their family. Things that Edith did for many in this room.

Jesus went one step further though. He loved the world so much that he gave his very life for it, dying on a cross for the sake of humanity, for the sake of Edith, for the sake of all of us. And then he rose again to show us that death would have no true hold over us, that eternity awaits those that God loves.

That’s a gift that Edith now has. Another blessing upon her many years and many children.

But that’s also not a gift that she alone receives. It’s here for everyone in this room (everyone in this world technically). I did mention on Sunday that I would bring this up, but that world beyond death belongs to all of us thanks to Jesus. And there will come a day when we will step into that world, and I can pretty much guarantee when that day happens, there’s going to be a big old family reunion for the Smeltzers and Edith will be there waiting.

Until that day, we continue our journeys in this world. We will remember Edith, celebrate our memories of her and grieve her loss. And we will look to the hope of standing before God’s throne with that great mass of people John saw in his vision. Edith will be there. So will we. And nothing would make her happier. Amen.

Sermon for All Saints Sunday

Preached at Canadochly and Grace on Nov 4, 2018
Preaching text: None

The first thing I noticed when I sat down to prepare my sermon for this week was that the assigned texts for All Saints Sunday are the same as the “recommended” texts for your typical funeral service: Isaiah 25, Revelation 21, and John 11. Make the Psalm one earlier (i.e. Psalm 23 instead of 24) and you’ve got the full set.

That got me thinking that maybe I could approach today as if it were a funeral service, a celebration of life in the midst of death. As I reviewed several of my old funeral sermons, I noticed an obvious pattern. They’re all pretty much about the same thing: a recognition of all the wondrous gifts that God gives to us, particularly in light of the presence of death.

The most obvious of those gifts is, of course, life itself. We are given how ever many years we’re given here on this Earth, our time to find a purpose and make an impact on the world and on the lives of others. Most of us really don’t realize that our life is a gift to others, that God gives us to them. The people we impact by being who we are and doing what we do are often unknown to us, mostly because we just don’t think about it. And yet, despite that, their lives would be radically different if not for us.

We talk all the time about the graces that we are given. Not so much about the grace that we are for others.

The funeral service may be the only place we do that. It’s full of language about thanking God for giving our loved ones to us, for remembering them for the impact they’ve had on us, for laughing at the good times they gave us, and so much more. It’s in that moment, when they are gone, when we realize just how much they truly mattered to us.

I wonder, as we list the names today of those who’ve gone before us, those who’ve died recently and those whose memory we still carry years later, did they know? Did they know what they meant to us? Did they know what impact they had? Did they know how much they mattered? Some certainly did. Others, sadly, no.

One of the other graces I speak of in the funeral service is, also of course, the other life that God gives us: eternal life through his son, Jesus Christ. The one who lived, died, and defeated death to bring us all into eternity with him. There is a side effect that wondrous gift in that, not only is it something we receive, but it is also given to those we love. The parting with these lost ones is to be only temporary.

Now I’ve heard critiques of that sort of preaching, that sometimes funeral sermons are more about how we’ll see Grandma in the afterlife instead of Jesus. I can understand that, but I’m not sure God minds. That is, after all, another gift, another grace. It is a feature, not a bug, as we tech nerds sometimes say. After all, God loves us and God loves our loved ones. It was a gift for us to come together the first time. It will also be a gift for us to come together again in the kingdom. If it was a wonderful gift the first time, why not give it again?

For some of us, that might be our second chance. To say what we never got to say in this life, all the things that we regretted holding back on. We may find however that it’s not necessary. With all the gifts and graces that God gives us here on Earth, it’s hard to imagine that it all stops with eternity. No, I think one of the things God gives us in the life beyond death is the chance to see what impact we’ve had on those we left behind.

Christian singer Ray Boltz had a wondrous song many years ago about what might happen when we come to eternity. The song is called “Thank You.” A man has a dream of going to heaven and meeting a series of people who were changed by the life of that man and his Christian witness. I can see God doing that, yet another gift to us: showing us how much of a difference we made in the lives of those who loved us.

Part of me looks forward to that. I know in my life now I continue to be delighted by the person my daughter Emily is growing up to be. It will be fun to watch all the generations of my family yet to be and what they accomplish on this world. Another song I love is from the classic musical Carousel, “You’ll Never Walk Alone.” None of us ever do.

The Scriptures tell us of the great cloud of witnesses who look down on us from above. How many of our loved ones are among them, keeping tabs on us, delighting in the person we are and the impact we are having. Another gift, one of so many that God gives.

And, of course, God gives us the gift of himself. Not only do generations past walk with us, but God goes with us too. From the moment of our baptism and probably before, his spirit rests upon us. No matter what we face in life, even death itself, he is always with us.

Death is a frightening thing. It is the one true unknown we all face in life. We do not know what lies beyond, if anything. We believe certainly that there is more than just this world and belief is a powerful thing. God has promised so much, more gifts than we can count. We’ve already received from him so much and there is more to come. This gives me hope. It gives me confidence. Life is more than we know and what we don’t know is not to be feared. God is with us, showering us with graces uncounted. The life of those who went before is a drop in the bucket of the love he is eager to show us. With that, what can death truly do but bring me, bring us, into the presence of that love? Reunite us with those we love and miss so terribly? Graces uncounted. Amen.