A Sermon In the Midst of Tragedy and the Irony of "Joy" Sunday

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Grace, mercy, and peace to you from the Holy Trinity, Amen. 

I'm generally a pretty big fan of irony, it tends to always make me chuckle to myself.  But of course, there are moments of irony that I wish never had to exist in the first place.  Today in the cycle of Advent, the day is traditionally known as Gaudet Sunday, or Joy Sunday.  The texts reflect that joy, and the Psalm isn't a Psalm but a canticle, a song, which extols the praises of God.  

And yet, today in the church, in the nation, and in the world, these texts seem to laugh in our faces as we consider how to feel in the aftermath of the Massacre at Sandy Hook elementary school on Friday.  It seems cruel to tell people who have watched news reports about the unspeakable evil of our fellow humans that we need to praise God at all times.

I was walking out of Target Friday night with my boyfriend and we were having a conversation about everything that happened that day.  We came to some pretty basic conclusions about humanity.  1. People do crappy things.  2. People do crappy things to each other.  3. Nothing that happened Friday makes any sense.  4. Unfortunately, things like this have happened for all of history.  In those few hours after so many innocents were lost, that is all I could think about.  And so with those thoughts, I tried to read through my facebook newsfeed, which was riddled with two major camps.  Both said that this was a tragedy.  One side said this was finally the moment to talk about gun control.  The other side said we should mourn with the world instead of politicizing the issue at hand.  Both sent prayers and thoughts to the families of the victims.  

I think it's pretty easy to spend a sermon preaching about gun control, or to talk about the number of prayers that are being sent toward Connecticut to comfort the families of the victims and their friends and family, but try as I might, I just can't find any evidence in the readings this week about gun control or words of deep comfort, at least on the surface.  Instead, I'm haunted by the words of Paul in the reading from Philippians.  "Rejoice in The Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice."  And when tragedy like this happens, that is the last thing I want to do, rejoice in The Lord.  

Instead I want to put God on trial and grill him to finally get some answers about why he lets some of the safest places in our world become hunting grounds for people who need prayer just as much as the people that they wounded.  I want to ask God why we live in a culture that is addicted to violence, and addicted to watching the blood run through the streets on CNN before switching to MSNBC to see if they have any new, or different footage of the carnage that has taken place.  

And as much as I want to ask those things, I think I know the answers...

I know, deep in my heart, that God does not want us to kill each other.

God doesn't let our schools become places of terror.  God mourns when any of God's children are ripped from the fabric of life that makes up the whole body of Christ.  And we weep for the same reason.  We are all made from the same flesh, all part of the same body, and when part of the body of Christ is wounded, the whole creation groans in pain.

And when the lives that are lost are innocent children, all I can think of are words from the prophet Jeremiah: "A cry is heard in Ramah--deep anguish and bitter weeping.  Rachel weeps for her children, refusing to be comforted--for her children are gone."  Our cries for the 29 children of God in Connecticut killed on Friday, our cries for the 3 children of God in Oregon killed on Tuesday, our cries for the 11 children of God in the South side of Chicago shot last Monday, our cries join those of the Rachels of all times and places.  Our deep anguish, our weeping...is perhaps all we have to give at this moment.  

And so Paul, telling us to rejoice, in the midst of tragedy, seems out of place.  And maybe his words are out of place, but I think it's important to remember that while he was writing those words, he wasn't in some posh pastor's study with a fireplace and a laptop.  He was in prison.  And first century prisons were possibly as close to hell on earth as a person could get.  Prison is not really a place where people want to rejoice...and yet Paul is doing just that.  Maybe he was delirious...but he goes on to say...

"Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God."  So, it seems like Paul has some sort of complex that he has to be happy at all costs...even in the midst of the worst things he is experiencing.  Maybe his words of "rejoice" are because he knows that the situations he is experiencing are not Godly...they're all the result of broken humans...His prison term...our fellow children of God being slain...are never things a benevolent and gracious God would do.  But, Paul tells the church to not be anxious about anything, and to pray.  To pray without ceasing.  To pray when he and the church don't know what else to do.  For us, Paul says that when we don't know how to feel, in the midst of anxiety and terror, to pray.  

I can only imagine what that would be like.  Our world is so riddled with anxiety and fear, anxiety about going to the movies, the mall...fear about sending our babies to school.  In times like this it is easy to think only of the darkness that lurks around every corner.  It's easy to stay glued to the television, wondering what news is going to break next.  Living in a world like that, makes me pray fervently for a world without anxiety, a world without fear.  I pray that God intercedes in this broken world.  I pray that God shows us what it's like to love people we hate.  I pray that this world might experience love and not evil.  I pray that we can find refuge in God when we cannot find refuge in people.  And I pray that we don't spend all our time glued to darkness, so that it does not overtake us.  I pray that we remember all the acts of kindness that happened on Friday that went unreported.  I pray that we can thank God for all the babies born across the world, for all the selfless deeds done, and for all the true love shown throughout the world Friday.  

And I pray with Paul, that this world may know the peace of God which passes all understanding.  I beg for a taste of that.  I beg for peace in a world of unknowns.  I beg for peace in the midst of fear for our kids safety.  I beg for peace in the midst of outrage at the poor access to mental healthcare in our country.  I beg for peace in the midst of sadness at the lives that were prematurely ripped from the world.  I beg for peace in the midst of confusion about how to feel toward Adam Lanza, who took his own life after taking others.  I beg God....as only God promises to do...come and fill our hearts with your peace.   Kyrie Eleison.  

A sermon about false saviors and the election

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Grace, Mercy, and Peace to you from the Holy Trinity, Amen.

So, after a story about a widow giving all she had to the church, and a recent email from our wonderful volunteer finance director about money, you may be expecting a sermon about why it is important to give money to the church, and I’m not talking just a skimming off the top, but your whole paycheck.

Unfortunately, I am not here to do that today, in major part because I think that’s bad advice, and I can’t see Jesus advocating for unethical advice like “give us all your money, we don’t care if you die because of it.” I certainly would never walk up to someone struggling to feed their family and say to them that their lives would be blessed if they gave the church their last $20 instead of using it to buy some food. And I’m not interested in telling people who have enough money to support themselves to go ahead and put themselves in that position either.

And yet, that’s what happens lots of places every three years when the story of the Widow giving everything she has is read...a plea for giving.
Only...that discounts the first part of the story, about the scribes and their fancy robes and long prayers. And I have a suspicion about why preachers tend to ignore that part. It hits entirely too close to home...seeing as how we preachers tend to wear robes and say long prayers.

Jesus begins this story warning the disciples about spending all their time watching the people in power trying to find God in them. Which makes me think of the past two years, and specifically the past couple months, and especially Tuesday night. I was among the people glued to my TV and iPad watching numbers with such fervor that sometimes it felt like a drug addiction, and each time a state was called it was a fix...till the next one was called.

I got entirely wrapped up in who was going to become our next president that ultimately, I blacked out the rest of the things happening in my life and world for several hours on Tuesday night. I spent all my time focusing on the big wigs, who, while they were not wearing beautiful robes and saying long prayers, may just be our societies equivalent to the first century temple scribes. I think that is one of the biggest shames of this past election cycle, the night itself, and the aftermath. I was saddened as I watched facebook Tuesday night and even now, at the vitriol that was spewed out on both sides, including posts that claimed this election and its results were ordained by God.

We’ve tricked ourselves into thinking (whether we are aware of it or not) that whoever we elect is going to be our savior. And that our party is the one God likes the most. And fortunately for us, God is not a republican...or a democrat. And God isn’t particularly interested in us seeing those in power as God.

And so, Jesus gives us a different vision. Mark contrasts the images of the powerful people in the church and society and the systems in which they work, with a widow, the lowliest of women in the first century, who gives all she has.

I consider the widow’s position in this whole story to be one that makes me stop and reevaluate everything that tends to get spewed around in society. This woman in an act of piety, gives everything she has to a system that tended to be rather exclusive, and oppressive. The church then, much like today, was a system that let people down, that was part of the problem as much as it was part of the solution to problems, and existed as a broken institution. Yet, the church also helps people understand truth about their existence in the universe, and can be an intensely beautiful institution.

Which brings me back to last Tuesday. Perhaps our voting was a sign of the same story of the widow. Neither candidate was perfect. None of us is. But we choose to participate in a system where we believe the person we voted for was ultimately interested in the good of the people whom he was to serve. And regardless of who you voted for, I think it’s important to uphold in others that they made the choice that they felt was the most responsible to the most number of people. We know our elected officials will let us down, and we know that they will surprise us in all sorts of great ways too. Living in that tension is where the widow lived, being part of something that both helped, and harmed.

And whether we are talking about the church, or the political system we find ourselves in, or the corporate world where we try to do as much ethical work as possible within a capitalist society, we know that everything we do cannot compare to the ultimate healing which God brings to the picture.
God created a world that was whole, without scribes or widows, without republicans or democrats, without CEOs or occupiers. And God’s ultimate goal is reconciliation between groups opposed to each other and systems that simultaneously help and hurt the people involved in them. Through Christ’s teachings, we see a glimpse of this world. We see that there is nothing we can or cannot do that will separate us from Christ’s love. Giving all we have, or feeding ourselves will not separate us from the love of God. Voting for Romney or Obama or no one will not separate us from the love of God. Being gay and eating at Chic-fil-a will not separate us from God’s unconditional love.

See, it all begins with God and God’s unending and unconditional love for every single one of us gathered here today. It begins with God reconciling us to each other and to God through the death and resurrection of Christ who defeated death, defeated brokenness, and defeated the divides that we create in our lives. It is only through Christ that those divides can be healed, bringing together those who hurt us, and those who we hurt.

So even when we fall into our traps of superiority and brokenness, blaming the outcomes of a state election on God...or on the devil...we can still remember that if we are hurt by others or if we hurt others, that Christ brings us together into one community, gathered around one table, for the sake of the kingdom of God. The brokenness is ours...and wholeness is brought by living into that one table, that one community together, knowing that Christ is the head of the table...which is a party we can all get behind.

A sermon about Zombies and being unbound from death

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Grace, Mercy, and Peace to you from the Holy Trinity, Amen. 

I’ve been told recently that I’m foolish for considering the possibility of zombies.  I’m here to tell you, unequivocally, that they exist.  After all, isn’t that what John’s gospel is about today?  Jesus reanimating the dead?  A decomposing corpse creaking out of a darkened tomb surrounded by the stench of death.  

Yeah, Jesus recusitates a man, Lazarus, but we lose something if we are only focused on the physical reanimation of one man in the first century holy land.  Because it doesn’t really make a huge difference to us...that was 2 thousand years ago, and Jesus has not since raised anyone who has been dead for 4 days.  And the likelihood of more zombies running about is slim. 

And so, in lieu of reanimated corpses, we celebrate All Saints Day.  We remember those who have died and are resting in the grave waiting for that day when God raises all the living and dead into life int he kingdom of Heaven.  We remember, and we wait for the coming of Christ, to once again call people out of their tombs.  

 We all have experienced death in our own lives.  We all have loved ones we know who have died, and we all know how it feels to be bound up in our own bandages of death, beginning to rot:  Debt that consumes us, but we’re too afraid to let anyone know about it.  Addictions to substances, facebook, food, that control us and don’t let us live on our own.  Fear of people finding out that we’re not mentally healthy, yet knowing that we need to ask for help.  These are the types of things that feel like they are dead parts of ourselves that we have to drag around with us, weighing on our ability to fully experience life.  

And it’s easy to fall into the trap of thinking that if we just get one part of our life figured out and fixed...that one dead part...that then we’ll finally be able to be fully alive. 

It’s funny, though, how this form of  death works, it’s not like physical death that just happens once  At least for me, it seems like once I have that dead part brought back to life, something else has died.  When I spend time working on making my spiritual life alive, I neglect to make time for my personal life, so I begin to fix that.  When I begin to fix my personal life, I’ve not left room for my mental health. It’s like this cycle that just sort of consumes me, and holds me bound to dead parts of myself. 

 And that is why I need Jesus.   I need Jesus to, like Lazarus, call me out of the tomb I make for myself.  I need Jesus to raise those dead parts of me because I just can’t do it myself.  Jesus calls us to come out of our own tombs of self righteousness, our tombs of feeling like failures, our tombs of isolation.  Jesus calls us out, saying “hey, don’t try to make yourself alive apart from me, you are not me.”  And because we are not Jesus, we cannot ever truly raise those dead places in our lives, or our dead loved ones.  Only Jesus can do that.  Daily, Jesus calls out those dead parts of us, and at the end, Jesus will call out all those resting in the grave.  

Jesus is not afraid of us, living and dead, who “stinketh”, as the King James Version puts it.  Jesus is not afraid to come into the places of stench and decay in our lives.  Jesus comes into that, and brings us out alive, away from the deadly things we carry with us, unburdening us from the death we experience, just like Jesus brought out Lazarus. 

And that is good news to all of us, dead and alive.  Jesus barges into our stink and brings us out alive to live in newness of life and the hope of life eternal.  Which sounds pleasant, but what does that mean for us, and what did it mean for Lazarus?

the story of Lazarus doesn’t end with divine CPR, and it begs the question about what the importance of new life is, other than a prolonging of our mortality without our consent.  John tells us that after Lazarus stumbles out of the tomb, Jesus tells those gathered around him to unbind him.  

 And if we are thinking about how we are like Lazarus, dead and stinky, but living a new life thanks to Christ, wouldn’t we too want to be unbound?  Just like Lazarus cannot make himself alive again, he cannot unbind himself from the cloths he has been bound with. He is alive but still is bound up by the wrappings and trappings of death. Being alive again is nice for Lazarus, and for us, but unless the gauze that keeps our dead parts wrapped to us are removed, we can’t truly be free from death’s grasp It’s up to the community to take those off of him so he can truly live a freed life, not a life captive to the death that used to ensnare him.  

 We don’t know if the community did what Jesus told them to do, to unbind him.  Which I think is an indredible shame.  I want them to take the wrappings off of Lazarus so he can wander around as a man completely freed from the death he experienced.  I just hope they did.

God created us to be free, and wants us to be free, not to be bound by death. When we are ensnared by death, Gods desire for us is to be unbound by those who surround us.  And I think that All Saints Day is a great time to remember that.  We are surrounded by saints, living and dead, who are here to unbind us from our places of death so that we can unbind others.  

 We are called to have our shackles of death cut off and to cut off the shackles of others through the waters of baptism.  In those waters, the Holy Spirit reveals to us that we are made new and given life through Christ’s death and resurrection.  We proclaim at the beginning of the baptism that God, who is rich in mercy and love, gives us a new birth into a living hope through the sacrament of baptism.  Through water and Word God delivers us from sin and death and raises us to new life in Jesus Christ.  We are united with all the baptized in the one body of Christ, anointed with the gifts of the Holy Spirit, and joined in God’s mission for the life of the world.  

God’s mission for the life of the world that we are joined to is freeing people from the things that bind them to death.  It is welcoming those who are outcast.  It is walking with those who are too poor or too rich to see anything but themselves.  It is speaking truth to power and advocating for the powerless.  These things all help unbind others to live with us in the free kingdom of God.  AND YET, we cannot do these things for others, we cannot unwrap people from the daily deaths they experience, we cannot strip away the parts of others that hold them to the grave without first experiencing being unwrapped ourselves.  

We are part of a communion of saints.  And before we can go around unbinding other saints, we need to be released from our own shrouds of death.  In baptism, Christ makes us alive with him.  And a community surrounds us, promising to do the same thing we do to others.  This community promises to support and pray for us in our new life in Christ.  They proclaim to us and to one another that they will cut off our wrappings of death so we can live with them in the body of Christ.  

God’s desire for us is to be freed from death.  God raises us to new life, and the community of saints that surrounds us, those living and those dead, those we know, and those we don’t, all unbind us from the things that keep us tied to that death.  

We then become part of the saints, the group of unbinders who are bound to Christ’s death and resurrection, and one another.  We are called to be the unbinders of isolation and lonliness on Thanksgiving with Operation Turkey Sandwich, we the unbinders of the Gospel, living out what it means to give water to the thirsty, feed the hungry, shelter the homeless, advocate for the oppressed. We unbind ourselves from idolizing a building and look for ways to bring church to people where they are. We are bound to the call of Christ to unbind each other and we are freed from death because we have been unbound.  

 This is the power of being baptized into the community of Christ.  Through Christ raising those dead parts of us, and having our graveclothes removed by others, we can freely live into our baptismal vocation as children of God.  For me, being a child of God means I no longer have to worry about carrying around the dead or ugly parts of myself that I’m ashamed of because Christ raises those things into a new creation.  For me, being a child of God means being surrounded by a community of people who daily unwrap the bandages of insecurity and instead lift me up and support me.  For me, being unwrapped gives me the joy of helping others shed the things that keep them tied to the coffin so that we can all live together, no longer captive to death.  Christ brings us to new life, and together we unbind each other and all the world to live freely with all the saints, living and dead, forever. 

A Sermon About The American Dream And Being Loved By God

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Grace, Mercy, and Peace to you from the Holy Trinity. Amen.

As I was thinking about Jesus' words to sell everything, give the money to the poor, and follow him, I thought to myself "Well, it's a good thing I'm in Urban Servant Corps where a major tenant of the program is simplicity...I don't have anything I COULD sell...so Jesus obviously really likes me and I'm definitely getting into heaven. And for those people in the congregation who don't make only $75 a month like I do...well, I'll just re-iterate the words of Jesus to go, sell everything, and give the money to the poor...or the church. There we go. Sermon done.

Then, an ad campaign popped up on my newsfeed. It was a series of "First World Problems."

Problems like "When my mint gum makes my ice water taste too cold."
And I hate it when my neighbors block their WIFI
And I hate it when I tell them no pickles, and they still give me pickles.

Which are all funny, when we tweet them. But they're not quite as funny when, like in this ad campaign, they are read by Haitians. Who don't have easy access to clean water, let alone ice water. And my first thought was...well, I guess I'm not getting into heaven now, even though Urban Servant Corps means relative poverty for the year...$75 a month and $60 a month for food...I still have ice water, and an iPad, and a heated house. Things that I'm not particularly keen on giving up to follow Jesus, because I'm pretty content with my lifestyle.

Which puts me pretty much right in the same place as the rich man, who comes to Jesus seeking justification for his piety, and hoping Jesus would just ignore the financial part of his life. I, being confronted with my possessions by a youtube video, had to rethink what Jesus' words to the yuppie really meant.

A few years back, the New York Times had a series of articles they published into a book called "Class Matters." It is primarily a book about class and social difference and the gap which exists within American culture. And it's about the American Dream. A notion that is distinctly American in nature...when was the last time you heard about The Chilean Dream? I've been pretty obsessed with the concept of the American Dream since college, where I took a class that scrutinized American idealism, and looked into the gap created between the ideal of the American Dream and the reality of life in this country.

We considered that "The Pursuit of happiness" and "climbing up the ladder" and "pulling yourself up by your bootstraps and making something of yourself" all sound like really nice things to be able to achieve. And these ideas my very well be what gives people hope during economic recessions, and draws millions of immigrants to our shores, and gives small town kids big city dreams.

Only, we have come to realize that the so called American Dream, is in reality never attainable...since once a new level of financial or material security is reached, if that's even possible at all, it's time to get up to the next one. And we can end up sacrificing part of ourselves to get there...working longer hours, getting another credit card, trading in the old promises of the iPhone 4s for the new promises of the iPhone 5. We end up in a cycle of trying to "trade-up", sometimes not even knowing how or why we got there in the first place.

I get it. The new iPad calls my name, buying clothes at the Gap instead of Buffalo Exchange makes me feel good when I'm carrying that blue bag around the mall, taking out *another* student loan so I can go to Ikea and buy a new sofa...all these things are daily temptations...that just feed my vanity. Even if the American Dream isn't real, and even if we know we can't attain that sort of made-up ideal, it's nice to feel comfortable, and to want a future, and to make sure that the kids can go to college.

And then Jesus comes along talking about camels, and needles, and giving up your fields, which generally makes people who have any money or means or electricity feel uncomfortable.

And feeling uncomfortable is not particularly Good News, nor is it what I think Jesus is really getting at in this story. He starts out with a discussion of commandments, which the rich man has kept to a T. The guy is pretty proud of that, and he strokes his ego by telling Jesus what all he's done, and what he's accomplished. He's done and said everything he's supposed to do and say. This guy had fallen for the dream of something better from what he DID...the same dream we like to fall for.

It doesn't particularly matter wether what we do is materialistic, or altruistic...neither one will help us experience a future, or a present, with God.

Now, I don't want to imply that doing things is bad, or wrong...I'm all about Operation Turkey Sandwich, and giving money through offerings to the Lutheran Malaria Campaign, and giving away food from the community garden to those people who don't have access to fresh vegetables. Those are all great.

But they won't exactly earn us anything in God's economy...they won't exactly help us get the grace of God any faster than anyone else. Because God grace does not come on our schedule...or through our actions.

See, when we read the story of the rich man and the camels and needles, it's easy to skip over something small...but something that entirely changes the story, in my view. Before Jesus tells the man to do anything...before the man runs away crying because he is afraid of giving up his 401k...Before any of that, Mark tells us that Jesus loved the man.

God's love for us isn't something we get after we do the right thing. The grace of God...the mercy God has for us when we want to look into the mirrors of our lives and congratulate ourselves instead of looking past that to those around us...That is what Jesus showed the man, and what God shows us. For God, the eternal and unending gift of love for us means that we don't need to be afraid of not doing enough, or not thinking the right things, or not selling enough of our possessions. For God, loving us means that our self righteousness about our work and how we're changing the world doesn't matter. For God, the very act of loving us is more important than wether we give 20% of our salary to the poor or wether we give nothing.

Mark tells us that Jesus loved the man...before anything else. I wonder if the guy felt that. Or if he, like us, was taken aback by Jesus' command so much that he wouldn't let himself feel the unending and unfaltering love of Christ in his life. Jesus shows the man, by loving him, that God is not some angry parent who wants to take our toys away so we'll behave and be good. Instead, we see that those things we put our trust in...security, wealth, twitter can't love us like God can. God's desire for us is to be free of that stuff that we trust more than God, and to simply experience God's love.

It's easy to get so caught up in ourselves that we don't see God's love in our lives. And Jesus today reminds us that before anything else, God shows us love. God shows us love in those gathered around us in work and worship. God shows love to us through the resurrection of Christ from the dead, reminding us of the resurrection we too experience daily. God shows us love in God's very presence in the bread and wine which we eat and drink together. God's love, in every way we experience it...though people, through nature, through sacraments...surrounds us always. God's love, shown through Jesus' love to the rich man, means our vanity, our attempt to one up our neighbors, our busy-ness, doesn't matter, for nothing can compare to the love of God shown to us through Christ Jesus.

A sermon about cracked ribs, fainting goats, and connections

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So, we just heard Jesus talking to the Pharisees and his disciples about divorce. Or maybe marriage. And...well...it's pretty hard to preach a sermon that will speak good news to every single person here when marriage and divorce become the focus of what I say It becomes especially hard to preach when I and others in this room can't get married and so aren't legally allowed to experience what Jesus is saying. It is hard to preach when there are people who have heard this text and stayed in abusive relationships for fear of going to hell. It's hard to preach this when there are broken marriages which have, at least tangentially, affected everyone here. I don't particularly want to preach about the beauty of marriage, when people are content with being single, for fear of alienating them. And then there are people who are in happy and beautiful marriages that might just tune out since this doesn't apply to them. In fact, this story about divorce and marriage has taken on such a life of its own that we might forget what marriage really was back in Jesus' time.

First Century marriage was not about white dresses and flower girls and the love of your life and 'happily ever after'. That came to us much later, through the likes of Leave it to Beaver and the Disney corporation. Marriage in first century Palestine was pretty much just a legal contract, in which the families of the two people being married gained the most benefit. It was helpful to marry off your children to avoid enemies, and to have a bunch of people to be at your back when enemies did come knocking. And then the worst part, after the marriage, the guy owned the woman...like I own a printer.

And my printer...I love it...but if it ever stopped spewing out warm pages full of toner, I'd have to get rid of it. Marriage was that way as well, one school of rabbinic thought stated that a man could divorce his wife if she so much as burnt the toast for breakfast. Imagine the state of the world if that was the norm...I'd imagine there would be very few people still married.

After this burnt toast fiasco, the husband would simply dismiss the wife and she'd be out on the streets. Alone. With absolutely no legal protection or The Gathering Place or Dolores Project to help her find some dignity and a new life. Divorced women in the first century were sort of like first century children...they were often unwanted, and generally subjected to isolation and vulnerability because of their status.

After hundreds of years of the church telling us what relationships should and shouldn't look like, and making judgements about the state of relationships, we've begun to read Jesus' words a bit differently. We forget that Jesus is almost exclusively concerned with the wellbeing of the outcast in the gospel of Mark.

It's clear to me that this is a morality story, but not in the way we like to think about it. The morals being shown might not be about marriage...maybe they're about looking out for marginalized people...and women and children happen to be primary object lessons for the pharisees.

So, let's harken back to Genesis for just a minute. Again, this sermon has been preached to hurt people, especially those who identify as LGBTQ since 'obviously' God made Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve. It's easy to want to focus on gender...because it ignores some pretty disturbing things that might not be that easy to talk about. The most disturbing of which is that God somehow divinely rufies Adam and cracks out his rib one night. For a loving God, that's pretty violent, and I'd imagine Adam was in a lot of pain the next day, considering God had not yet created Vicoden.

And the Truth about this story is that God cares so much about us. God cares that we have connection in life. It took a lot of work on God's part to find the right connection, because Adam kept not being interested in porcupines, sea lions, or those fainting goats. But God kept trying because God knew that Adam needed a connection, a way to see and experience and love God through something else. So God finally created a creature that was part of Adam.

Adam and Eve...or whoever they really were...were connected to one another through their very being. And connected to God through each other. And it was good.

So back to Jesus. Jesus understood how important connection was. And how relationships were not only legally protective, but protected the fragile emotions that live within each of us, and that those emotions are often dependent on other people. Jesus got it when he read Genesis, people were literally made from and for each other.

We are people made for connection, for relationship with others. And Gods will for us is connection, God's will for us is relationship, be that romantic or platonic. Yet we do a pretty good job of screwing that up. We live in a culture obsessed with disposability and individualism. And we are a people who abuse ourselves and others because we try to jump out of our role as creature and into the role of creator, which doesn't work for us. You see, when we're busy disposing of relationships or running along in our own world with disregard for others, we don't recognize that we are all created by God, and that God sees us as good, and valuable, and relational.

Thinking that church should be a club instead of a place where all people are welcome and valued as part of a community. Climbing the corporate ladder to get more, to be higher, and ultimately, to reach the top of the Norman Rockwell version of the American dream without thinking of those we leave in the dust. Being self righteous as an activist while alienating others who might have different opinions about issues. These things are pretty commonplace, and pretty far from God's will for creatures that were pulled from the ribs of each other.

The hurt we cause at the expense of others, and at the expense of ourselves and our relationships puts people in the same state as first century divorced women, and outcast children...vulnerable, scared, feeling isolated. And so Jesus calls us to remember that the kingdom of God is countercultural to his society, as well as ours. Certainly the alienation people feel looks different...and the same...as when Jesus talked about broken relationships, but God's will for people has not changed. God lamented for broken relationships and children, and God laments for us when we find ourselves thrown out due to someone else's refusal to see our sameness to them as created and good....AND God laments for those people that we throw out on the curb because we think that their God given goodness is threatening ours.

Jesus word's to the Pharisees and to us point to the goodness of God, who created all things good, and has a deep commitment for the created order. Jesus' words point us to the truth that God is invested in our commitment to each other. Jesus' words point us to a new way of living, one that is deeply concerned for our neighbor and one that recognizes that we too are neighbors of someone...we too are in need of concern, and of love.

So maybe...instead of a lesson that is cut and dried about marriage, Jesus is calling us to a way of discipleship, a way of seeing the world differently, and a way of interacting with people differently. We aren't perfect. We hurt people...deeply...when we break our relationships with them. We get hurt by those same people when they fracture relationships. Walking through life is so often about avoiding the broken glass shards left by our shattered relationships with others. And Jesus is telling us that God wants more from us. God wants us to see others as humans, created from the same flesh as us, from the same bones. God wants more from us about relationships.

Because God wants more FOR us. God's will for us is wholeness in our relationships, our friendships, our aquaintences, because we exist as children of God, all created perfect, all created good. God wants more for us so badly that God's own kid, Jesus, came to restore our relationship with God and with one another. God wants more for us, because the kingdom of God is full of beautiful, healthy, good connections, and we are the beginnings of that.

Surprise support

I was getting ice cream with a parishioner a few days back as part of my 'meet the vicar' campaign.  Typically these conversations have been much more about me getting to know the people in my community than about them getting to know me...that's partly because I find other people fascinating, and I find myself rather dull.  But regardless, we were chatting about hopes and dreams for HFASS, what the kids were up to, how vacation was, and all sorts of other things when she stopped me and asked:

what can we do to support you?

Um....what?  Support me?  Wait....

I didn't speak for a couple minutes because I was so shocked at what she offered me.  I had been spending the previous 5 weeks knowing in the back of my mind that this was a learning experience, and that I was in a classroom without walls, or an office, but yet had forgotten that.  I had forgotten that I was not a lone ranger in this ministry thing, and that people wanted to support me, and to see me succeed, and hold me when I failed.

This might not seem like the most amazing of revelations, but for me it was a great reminder that ministry is not just a one way street, with clergy doling out all the support, and not receiving any in return (except for text study groups, and other clergy, etc.).  Instead, at least on internship, there is an entire congregation of people here to support me, and foster my formation as a pastoral leader.  It was pretty incredible, and I remind myself of what my parishioner said every day, even as I try to figure out what that support can and might look like.

I'm pretty blessed to be here, and I don't want to leave in a year.

A sermon about picking up the cross and following.

Sermons are meant to be heard...listen Here!

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from the holy trinity.  Amen.  

I can't help feeling a little sorry for Peter in the gospel reading today.  He gets rebuked by Jesus, something I don't think I'd wish on anyone at all.  But I totally understand why, and that's why I feel bad.  

See, Peter had done quite a bit already for Jesus since the beginning of Mark.  He had given up his fishing business with his brother Andrew.  He had trudged dozens of miles through some pretty tough neighborhoods, zig zagging back and forth across the desert.  He probably had some major blisters, and he had dealt with crowds upon crowds who wanted to take a little bit of his Rabbi's time, or healing energy.  

Being a disciple of Jesus was not particularly the most lucrative of careers Peter could have followed, but for some reason, that perhaps he couldn't even explain, he gave up his nets and followed Jesus.  And at this point in the story, he's pretty invested, not to mention there are now big groups of people following Jesus....maybe Peter thinks he's going to become famous by association.  He has a lot at stake when he makes his pronouncement that Jesus is the Messiah.  The last several months of his life are on the line with this guy Jesus, and he finally feels like he's got enough knowledge about him to say this big confession of faith.  

Only, the thing is, Peter doesn't really quite get it.  He thinks the messiah will come and save him and all the Jews from the oppressive government.  And yet, here's Jesus talking about suffering, and death, and rising again.  None of these things is what a good messiah is supposed to do.  

And so Peter sort of regrets his decision, and decides to tell Jesus that he's wrong...that Messiahs are supposed to do something completely different.  That salvation was supposed to look like political freedom, not some sort of gruesome death...followed by a resurrection?

And on top of that, Jesus has the audacity to tell Peter and all the crowd that they must deny themselves, take up the cross, and follow him.  He goes on talking about losing your life and saving it through Christ for the sake of the Gospel.  All things that any self respecting person would probably run away at...

It is easy to run at this idea. Denying yourself doesn't sound very fulfilling.  Taking up crosses is a dirty business.  They're not really the most glamourous things in the universe,  and they're heavy.  Heavy with the weight of shame.  of sin.  of guilt.  And so taking up a cross is not something we want to run to do.  Neither is denying ourselves.  Personally, I'd rather if Jesus said something like "take a trip to LUSH and find a bath bomb to carry, and follow me."  It smells better than a cross.  And...well....they make lots of different kinds...so I could choose the one that fits my mood the best and feel fulfilled.

It's easy to run at Christ's command because it's much more comfortable to keep our minds on human things instead of divine things.  And so it becomes tempting to rebuke Jesus...and tell him that this cross carrying business is no business for me.  And, self denial might have been great 2000 years ago, but it just doesn't really fly in today's iCulture.  I'm perfectly content, thank you very much, with my own self, and I'd rather not have to deny any part of who I am.  I'd rather have all the glory, without any of the suffering.  

That's a call that is so tempting, and so prevalent in the world, you'd think that following the path of Jesus meant getting free cars at church on Easter, or promises of health if you just believed enough, or that Christ was a divine life coach, like Oprah, ready to fix every wrong at the drop of a hat.  That's what happens...when we take all the bad parts of our culture: the individualism, the need for more and better stuff, the dog-eat-dogness, and mix it with religious language, and call it God.  

It's tempting to keep going along, feeling like Peter, thinking that the Messiah will come and do everything we want him to do, all in a big blaze of glory while we keep wandering down our own self-saving paths.  

But we get a great insight that Peter doesn't get.  We live in a world after the resurrection, a world Peter couldn't fathom when he proclaimed Jesus the messiah.  And so we've heard about how different this savior is...and how he does just about the opposite of everything that's expected.

Denying ourselves, then, becomes truth in the face of self importance.  Denying ourselves means taking a look at those parts of us that we want so desperately to be the thing that keeps us on the right path.  It means recognizing that the things we do, and the things we say that make us more righteous and more pious than our neighbors aren't the thing that is going to save us.  It means that our identity as Child of God becomes way more important than the identities we give ourselves.  Our identity as child of God points to the good news and promises of Grace we receive from Christ.  It points to our redemption, and renewal from those places that have kept us labelled and broken for so long.  

And it doesn't really end there.  It doesn't end there because that glory doesn't really get us far.  Because it's not how God operates.  As much as we might want an invincible, superhero God who protects us from our own vulnerability, we don't have one of those. 

Instead we have a God that calls us to take up our cross and follow.  We have a God that knows fully the pain and suffering of the cross.  Because God knew the pain, and suffering, and humiliation of hanging on a tree 2,000 years ago, God certainly knows that our lives are not glory filled, God certainly knows that we have our own crosses to bear.  God is one who hears the cry of the outcast, the orphans, the oppressed, the downtrodden and comes to be in their midst.  

We have a God who poured himself out on the cross to stand with us when we are hanging on our own personal crosses.  We have a God that is not too good to sit in the depths of addiction with us.  We have a God that is not too self absorbed to stand with us in the recesses of depression and self hatred.  We have a God that is able to say "I am here" in the tombs of failure and sin because God was once in a tomb. 

Deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow me is no longer a death sentence, it instead becomes a promise of life from God.  It is a promise of life because in denying ourselves, we find who we really are, Children of God.  It is a promise of life because in taking up our cross, we find God there, carrying it with us because God is in the business of carrying crosses.  It is the promise of life because following Christ means that, while carrying our cross leads to death, we have seen what happens through the power of the cross.  It is where God *always* promises to show up and lead us toward everlasting life.  

I know the call of Christ costs us something...identity...glory...power...self-actualization.  But it leads us to something even more...pure and free grace.  

Dietrich Bonhoeffer says of the cost of denying self, taking up the cross, and following Jesus: Such grace is costly because it calls us to follow, and it is grace because it calls us to follow Jesus Christ.  It is costly because it costs a man his life, and it is grace because it gives a [person] the only true life...Grace is costly because it compels a [person] to submit to the yoke of Christ and follow him; it is grace because Jesus says: "My yoke is easy and my burden is light."  

In losing ourself.  In losing our life.  In picking up the cross, and recognizing that Christ is with us there, and in following his path, we gain the grace filled life of unity with Christ and the promise of redemption.  In picking up the cross we see that thanks to God's promise of carrying our cross with us, that the burden is light.  In following the path of Christ we are able to see that it ends with the promise of everlasting life and eternal grace.   

Vocational Discernment part 344

I love my job.

I love preparing sermons.

I love drinking too much coffee.

I love talking to parishioners.

I love love love giving away free bread and wine every week.

I love praying for healing for the broken parts of people.

I love it all.

Love it.

So yeah, I think I'm supposed to be a pastor.

But not just because of that stuff...that's all external action.  There's a whole internal dynamic to this thing that also just jazzes me to no end.

Nadia and I talked about what being a pastor means...and part of it is being hyper self-aware.  I believe the illustration that was used was as follows:

Everyone has their shit, piled up around their ankles...or knees...or waist.  And the job of the pastor is to shovel up their own shit, not just move it behind them, but scoop up the pile, deal with it, and understand it.  If the pastor doesn't do that, then they run the risk of people that come to them stepping in the pastor's shit.  Or worse, digging through it themselves.

And no one wants to have to shovel a pastor's shit when they come to them.

So that has me thinking, what is the pile of shit that surrounds me?  I'm thrilled at the prospect of the difficult, but necessary work of shit shoveling.  And don't worry...I'll spray some air freshener before I start....

When life gives you limes...

Make limeade.  No really.  If you find yourself living with 9 other people and you receive 15 pounds of limes that are about to go bad, the best thing to do is juice them all and make gallons of limeade.

We get donations from a local family owned Market called Spinelli's Market, which happens to actually be a block from my church.  Once a week they give us all their produce that is on its last legs so that it doesn't just get thrown out, but has a chance to get eaten.  It's all still good, just sometimes a little shriveled...or turning brown, in the case of the limes.

So, we were stumped with these limes, cause they are a very specific fruit, with a very distinct flavor...and they all really needed to be used within a couple days before they went bad.  So we made limeade.  Then we still had 14.5 pounds of limes left.  I decided that the best use of my Saturday afternoon would be to juice all the limes into a pitcher, and then to freeze the juice.  After getting about 3/4 a gallon of lime juice, we made a LOT more limeade over the course of the next 2 days and then froze the remaining half gallon of pure juice into our ice cube trays so we could enjoy limeade all year.

That was last Thursday.

Yesterday we got 50 pounds of potatoes, among other things.  If you have great potato recipes, I'd love them.

A sermon about defilement, and what comes out of us.

Preaching is meant to be heard...listen here >>>>>


Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will
never hurt me.

I remember parroting this phrase at playground bullies
when I was in elementary school, using its magical
shield to protect me from being hurt, and thinking, as
I incanted it, that just by saying it, it would be true. In
reality, it ended up just making me feel worse...cause
magic incantations just don't work.

And yet, as I've grown older, I know this is perhaps
the worst lie we can tell our kids and ourselves. I
think of times when I've been called a faggot, or seen
someone use similarly vicious words at other people,
I think of times when I've been hurt by people close to
me because they said things that would stab me right
through the chest...sometimes not even on purpose.

And so, this story that Mark tells us makes me feel
good...you know....Jesus is yelling at the Pharisees
who are spending a lot of time and energy telling
people they are wrong and defiled because of what
they are doing. Or not doing, in this case. Jesus
comes out as sort of my personal hero in this story...he
is telling the Pharisees that their words are wrong.

What I want to do is to use this story as a proof for my
own life, that my political beliefs, my spiritual beliefs,
my moral beliefs are ALL justified by the words that
Jesus is speaking to "those dirty pharisees". After
all, I'm about as sick of the church and the world
teaching "human precepts as doctrines" as anyone
else. And I've been hurt by words people have spoken
to me. I mean, it's about time Jesus came along and
told those people who have hurt me that what came out
of their mouths defiled them, and I'm the righteous one.

And yet, try as I might, I can't get over one huge
roadblock that stands in that way, we can't just march
on with Jesus' words as our mantra to push our own
agendas and to feel good about ourselves. I can't...we
can't...because of one major thing.

You see, It's easy to hear this story and think only
of "those people". But in reality, we are "those people"
too. We uphold our own prejudices as doctrine. And
certainly, I fall into at least one of those categories that
Jesus mentions at the end...you know, the list that tells
all the bad things that come out of a person...I've told
my fair share of lies about other people, I've laughed
at jokes meant to hurt people, I've used words to hurt

instead of heal.

And crap, here I am, being all self righteous, and Jesus
comes along and shows me the error of my ways. He
casually throws out a list of evil things that people say,
and people do. A list that was common to 1st Century
Christians, and I would say pretty common to us as
well.

...that list of things that convicts us to look at ourselves,
and see ourselves not as spiritual, and moral superiors
to the people we disagree with, but as humans with
them, sharing the same flawed human nature.

Martin Luther got this, pretty loud and clear, in his
explanation of the ten commandments. The one about
lying...and how we shouldn't do it...gets a particular
twist by Luther. Luther understood all too well the
power of words...he did get kicked out of the church for
them, after all.

Luther puts it this way: we are to fear and love God, so
that we do not tell lies about our neighbors, betray or
slander them, or destroy their reputations.

(I think we're relatively okay so far....I don't typically
destroy my neighbor's reputation)

But he goes on to say: instead we are to come to
their defense, speak well of them, and HERE’S THE
KICKER: interpret everything they do in the best
possible light.

Well, there we go. God calls us, not only to not
spew out evil about our neighbors, but calls us to go
the opposite direction and hold them up in the best
possible light. Which ultimately means that we're
probably like those Pharisees...thinking other people
are defiled, but not always realizing that we are defiled
as well.

Weekly, we come to each other and to the table with
hands that are defiled by things that come out of
our very beings. Things that may well match things
on the list Jesus says: theft, murder, slander...but
evils that weren't commonplace in Jesus' time
either...anonymous comments on blog posts that are
particularly vicious...overconsuming natural resources...
not seeing our fellow humans in the best light...anything
that comes out of us and defiles us. We come together

defiled. We come together hungry for grace, and
mercy, and forgiveness. These are things we will, I
will, always be hungry for. I will always be hungry for
grace, even when it's hard for me to be gracious. I will
always thirst for mercy, even when it's difficult to show
compassion to others. I WILL always want to eat and
drink forgiveness, even when I am not able to do the
same for my sisters and brothers. Because I...Because
WE crave things that we can only receive from the
promises of God in Jesus Christ.

We come together, hungry and thirsty for being
one body in Christ. Hungry and thirsty not just for
forgiveness for ourselves, but forgiveness for the
people we sit next to, and for the people that don't even
feel as though they have a seat.

This is a craving that can only be satisfied by Christ,
who spoke words of freedom to outcasts. Who
touched people who were at the brink of death. Who
challenged people to think differently than they were
used to. And who not only forgives our sins, but says
to us that WE have the ability to forgive, or retain, the
sins of everyone.

And that's hard. I sometimes want to be like the
Pharisees...making up rules about who is in, and who
is out. Because that's so much easier and so much
less messy than including everyone. Who's "really a
Christian" and who is following some other doctrine, but
calling it "Jesus". But because I have been forgiven
by the death and resurrection of Christ, how can I say
anything but "I love you, you are a forgiven child of
God" to my neighbor? Even when that's a hard thing to
say, I know it's the thing I can say that won't defile me,
because that's what Christ tells me. That's what Christ
tells us. We are loved, and we are forgiven children of
God.

Oh hai!

So I think it's probably about time to stop neglecting this blog, especially since I told myself that I would be updating it as both self care and a somewhat spiritual discipline duirng my internship year.  

So, I got to Denver just fine, and at this point have adjusted to the altitude enough that I don't have a headache most of the day, though biking to church from my house is about 3 miles which I think equates to about 10 miles in the Midwest.  I'll get there though, I plan on taking a few hours a week to hop on the muti-use trails here and bike 15 miles or so (no guarantees how long that will take the first few weeks).  

So HFASS is a really exciting place to be right now, and I have to admit, different than I expected.  I think one of the biggest shocks to me is one that I should have realized, and have been chided a bit about, which is totally deserved.  I will admit that I had a bit of a celebrity crush on Nadia before I got here...like....when I interviewed with her I was scared that her fame would make her judge me more harshly....

Which is absolutely not the case.  I have nothing bad to say about Nadia, but the thing I appreciate the most right now is that she's a real person, and I don't have to feel intimidated by her and her public speaking life because that is just a role she fulfills, and it does not define her life.  I like it...we can be real people together, and everyone at the church can be real...it's refreshing.  

I also have realized that my coffee consumption has gone up significantly here, and will continue to over the course of the year.  I posted on Facebook a few months ago that I did not understand the reason for "small" and "medium" when it came to coffee, and instead relied on the large as my only option.  After several cups in the morning in my house during orientation, and then going to get coffee with a parishoner where I ordered a large iced americano (which coincidentally doesn't have room for water, so it's basically an iced quad shot of espresso), I thought maybe in the afternoons I should switch to small coffees, or half caf, or maybe even tea.  In any event, my kidneys are going to be getting a workout for sure.  And I'm not mad about it, because I love coffee with every fiber of my being.  

Well, I found those last two...

In my drafts folder. Strange that I didn't post them. But they're from Jan. and Feb. of '11. So, old.

Anyway, I'm making it a commitment to write in this blog this coming year, it'll be a different venue for me to process and share my experience at House. And besides, I'm getting paid to blog for school so I'm going to take it up again. I'll officially be the one billionth person who starts a blog, stops, then starts again.

Peace