Sermons – Page 18 – Pocket Sized Pastor*

Your Sound: God Speaks Even in Silence

“Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them; for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven. “So whenever you give alms, do not sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, so that they may be praised by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your alms may be done in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.

“And whenever you pray, do not be like the hypocrites; for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, so that they may be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward.But whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.

“And whenever you fast, do not look dismal, like the hypocrites, for they disfigure their faces so as to show others that they are fasting. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, so that your fasting may be seen not by others but by your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.

“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal; but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

Matthew 6:1-6,16-21

My sermon from Ash Wednesday Evening Service (February 14, 2018) on Matthew 6:1-6,16-21. Listen to the recording at the bottom of the page or read my manuscript below.

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I always expect my ash making for Ash Wednesday to be loud. But so far, the sound has always underwhelmed. You would think, with all the different tools I use to make ashes, that loud sounds would be part of the process. I need a large metal coffee can, a bunch of matches, and a deep stack of dried palm fronds. I take all of this to the barbecue pit outside the church. I have plenty of opportunities to make something loud. I could, for example, drop the metal can and listen to it clang and clang and clang as it rolled down the parking lot. And, when I finally get to the pitl, setup the coffee can, and stuff the palm fronds into it, I should hear a loud WHOOSH as I light the extremely dry, extremely brittle, and extremely fragile palm branches. And since I’m lighting this fire outside, the everyday loudness of the outside world should show up. The cars on Pascack Road usually honk. The giants trucks, as they drive by, rattle and rumble the building. And I’m always on the lookout for a low flying airplane making a dull roar as it prepares to land at Teterboro airport. I even half-expect a fire engine from the Woodcliff Lake Fire Department to stop by with its siren wailing, wondering why there’s so much smoke coming from the grounds of the church. The ash we will use tonight was made in the middle of the day, during the middle of our everyday life. And my everyday life expects some kind of loud noise. But in all the years I’ve burned palms here in Woodcliff Lake, the loud sounds I expect never come. Instead, it’s always the silence that surprises me.

I don’t know what it is about Ash Wednesday but, for me, today is a day filled with a very full silence. Even the loud sounds that I know will come, like the bellowing of the organ and the cry of a 3 year old child, seem to be less intense than normal. When I prepared the ashes for today, the clang of the metal can bouncing on the top of the metal grill didn’t disturb me like it’s suppose do. And the pops and crackling of the burning palm fronds was barely audible. I found myself over the last several days falling into an old Ash Wednesday pattern where I keep asking people to repeat themselves because, even though they’re speaking at their normal volume, the silence of this day keeps drowning them out. The sounds of everyday living – from ash making, to cars honking, to the music we sing – on Ash Wednesday, these sounds collide with a day that is already full. Because Ash Wednesday isn’t just another day on the church calendar. Ash Wednesday is an interruption of our everyday expectations.

And this interruption starts with the date itself. For one thing, Ash Wednesday takes place on Wednesday. It shows up in the middle of our week. And it’s never the same date year to year. It can show up in early-February or right next to President’s Day Weekend or skoot all the way into early March. Ash Wednesday can even show up on Valentine’s Day, which it hasn’t done since 1945 but will do again two more times before the year 2030. Ash Wednesday this year has inspired reporters, theologians, pastors, and priests to interrupt their normal routines and have a little fun. They’re busy sharing punny memes online, creating Lent-friendly heart shaped candies, and writing a bunch of articles wondering if it’s okay to eat Chocolate on this first day of Lent. Whatever our expectations for what this 2nd full week of February is supposed to bring, Ash Wednesday shows up, interfering and disrupting our normal routines. It inserts itself, almost without asking, into the busy school, work, sports, and life schedules we’ve already created. And when Ash Wednesday shows up, it does something a little odd. The day isn’t, I think, trying to give us one more thing to do. Even though we’re here at church and some of us will have ashes placed on our face, we’re not here trying to just fill up our time with our actions. Ash Wednesday isn’t a day centered on what we do. You’re here but it isn’t to do something. Rather, you’ are here to rediscover who you really are. Ash Wednesday interrupts the ways we fill up our time and our sense of self-worth by doing and doing and doing – And instead invites to remember who and what we already are. And that Ash Wednesday proclamation is declared during the silence.

There are moments in today’s service that will be silent. There will be long pauses after the readings and space between prayers. There will be times when the silence might feel awkward and you might try to fill it either out loud or with thoughts racing through you mind. But I invite you to hold off, accept that awkward feeling, and just let the silence be. Because that silence isn’t empty. It’s really full of words. And its words are centered in one sentence that begins with the word, “Remember.”

“Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return.”

Dust, on its own, cannot live or move or make much noise. There’s nothing that dust can really do. It cannot fill its time or run around doing all that it can to give it some sense of meaning. When it comes to what is eternal, when it comes to the divine, dust…can’t say much. Instead, dust can only sit in its silence – and wait for a sound that gives it meaning. Wait for a voice that says it matters. Dust needs that word that says its loved. On Ash Wednesday, the silence is a paradoxical kind of place. On one hand, we are confronted by who we are and our own mortality. And yet, in that very same moment, we are assured of the eternal promise God gives to us. Whether you chose to wear the ashen cross on your forehead today or not, all of us carry that mark of Christ. We carry this silent sign of who we are and who we belong to during every moment of our everyday live. And in those moments when we are surrounded by bellowing noise and in others moments when silence is all we have, Jesus promises that you are known and loved. Your imperfections will not cause God to abandon you. And the promise of God’s love for you doesn’t end because of what you ever you’ve gone through. t’s through our connection with Jesus Christ that we learn to stop trying to fill up our lives and we discover how Jesus fills us with His life instead. The silence of this moment, the silence of this Ash Wednesday, is how God interrupts our life right now to tell us that we are known, that we are seen, that we are cared for and that we will be, forever, loved.

Amen.

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A Noon Day Ash Wednesday Meditation

“Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them; for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven. “So whenever you give alms, do not sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, so that they may be praised by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your alms may be done in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.

“And whenever you pray, do not be like the hypocrites; for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, so that they may be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward.But whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.

“And whenever you fast, do not look dismal, like the hypocrites, for they disfigure their faces so as to show others that they are fasting. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, so that your fasting may be seen not by others but by your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.

“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal; but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

Matthew 6:1-6,16-21

My sermon from Ash Wednesday Noon Day Worship (February 14, 2018) on Matthew 6:1-6,16-21. No audio recording. Read my manuscript below.
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David Bryne, former lead frontman of the pop band The Talking Heads, has a pretty neat theory about how music works. He thinks that the music we created, from African drum beats to Gregorian chant to Rock and Roll, was determined by the space it was performed in. So if you’re outside, far from the walls of buildings, the complex rattle and rumble of drums reverberates freely; and it grows in beauty the farther the sound travels. Much of the hymns, chants, and music we sing in church was designed for a specific kind of place. Cathedrals in Europe, with their large ceilings, needed the right kind of sound filled with long notes to fill the space but it couldn’t sound messy. Even the contemporary music we sing on Sundays at our 9 am service is designed to be played in a concert venue or a large auditorium where the stage is the most prominent feature. I haven’t spent much time with David Bryne’s theory but it feels, to use a phrase that contradicts his 1984 concert film, it feels like it actually makes sense. And I think this because I experience these same thoughts when I’m preparing to preach. The space I preach in plays a role in what I actually preach. And the space matters so much that when I began to setup this chapel for worship this morning, I realized the sermon I planned to preach wouldn’t work. This space isn’t designed to be a place where I stand up front and talk at you for 12 minutes. This is a space filled with movable furniture, bright lights, and wonderful colors. It’s an intimate environment that, I think, invites us to worship in a slightly different way. And so, I’m going to invite us to do just that. But instead of music or a loud sound to start us off, we’re going to start with silence.

If you are able, I’d like you to make sure your feet are firmly planted on the floor. Then, put your hands on your lap or on your knees in a position that is comfortable but won’t make you fall asleep. Sit up straight, if you can, and in such a way that you are noticing exactly where your body connects with the chair. And once you’re set – close your eyes. And, for a moment, we’ll sit in silence.

(A brief silence).

Now I’d like you to pay attention to your breathing. Notice the breath as it goes out and comes in. And if this silence feels a tad awkward, and random thoughts keep entering into your brain – that’s okay. Notice them. Pay attention to the fact that they are there. But don’t dwell on them. Watch the thought come in…and then out while you focus on your breath.

(A brief silence)

And now I want you to hear something honest and true – something we will share together very shortly.

Remember that you are dust –

And to dust you shall return.

(A brief silence)

And since you are dust – you are mortal – know that you were created by a God who cares that you exist, by a God who knows you, and by a God who loves you right now.

(A brief silence)

And in those moments when you feel alone, know that Jesus is there. And in the moments when you do not know where to go, know that Jesus is there. And in the moments when life is difficult, I promise that Jesus is there.

(A brief silence)

And I’d like to end with something our presiding bishop wrote for today:

“The history of salvation is one extended love story between God and God’s creation, between God and humankind, between God and God’s people. We were created in love for love. Real love. Love that is solid and deep and unflinching. Love that is true enough to be honest….

God’s work of reconciliation in Christ is God’s eyes-wide-open acknowledgement of human rebellion and sin, the undeniable fact that all is not well no matter how hard we try to fix it or deny it. The remedy was the all-in, complete love of the incarnation, crucifixion and death of Christ. Jesus meets us right in the middle of our pain – the pain we feel and the pain we cause others – and without minimizing the depth of our offense, offers forgiveness and new life…”

So on this Ash/Valentine’s Day, know that “Ash Wednesday is [your] valentine from God, one that invites us to enter deep into the mystery of true love, honest examination of our lives and the possibility of real repentance. The Ash Wednesday valentine starts us on the journey to the cross, to the passionate love of God shown in the Passion of Christ. And after the cross, the resurrection.”

(A brief silence)

You may open your eyes.

Jesus Christ is all-in with you.

Amen.

Lifted Up. Power, Expectations, and #metoo

As soon as [Jesus and the disciples] left the synagogue, they entered the house of Simon and Andrew, with James and John. Now Simon’s mother-in-law was in bed with a fever, and they told him about her at once. He came and took her by the hand and lifted her up. Then the fever left her, and she began to serve them.

That evening, at sundown, they brought to him all who were sick or possessed with demons. And the whole city was gathered around the door. And he cured many who were sick with various diseases, and cast out many demons; and he would not permit the demons to speak, because they knew him. In the morning, while it was still very dark, he got up and went out to a deserted place, and there he prayed. And Simon and his companions hunted for him. When they found him, they said to him, “Everyone is searching for you.” He answered, “Let us go on to the neighboring towns, so that I may proclaim the message there also; for that is what I came out to do.” And he went throughout Galilee, proclaiming the message in their synagogues and casting out demons.

Mark 1:29-39

My sermon from the 5th Sunday after Epiphany (February 4, 2018) on Mark 1:29-39. Listen to the recording at the bottom of the page or read my manuscript below.

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I want to ask you a question: what did you do to prepare yourself to hear scripture today? I’ll be honest and say that sometimes, when I am in the pews, I do nothing to prepare myself for any scripture readings. Some days, just being here feels like it’s all I need to do. I flip open the bulletin, look at the words, and wait for an idea or a phrase or a feeling to jump out at me. Being this kind of passive participant with the Bible is sometimes exactly what we’re supposed to do. But there are more active ways to get ourselves ready to hear God’s word. Over the years, I’ve used a few tricks that might help all of us be a little more engaged with the text. We can, for example, choose to close our bulletin and focus on hearing the words instead of reading them. We can say a quick prayer, asking God to reveal to us what God already knows we need. We can also try to close our ears, mentally blocking out the tone and inflections used by the person reading out loud so that we can have a very personal reading of the text. And if none of those options fit our worship style, we can do something else, something that I like to call the eyebrow test. The first thing we do in the eyebrow test is relax our face. We want our eyebrows and eyes to be free to react to anything that we read or hear. And then, while the text is being read, we pay attention to what our eyes and eyebrows do. If we roll our eyes, blink hard, or raise one eyebrow, that part of the text might be what the Holy Spirit wants us to focus on. So looking back at this reading from Mark, what part of this text caused your eyebrows to move?

For me, my eyebrows went up at verse 33. Jesus heals Simon’s mother-in-law and the first thing she does is serve the men around her. Now, that might not have been the part of the text that you noticed. But when I shared this text with my colleagues and friends, Simon’s mother-in-law made a lot of eyebrows move. We talked about why that was and a movement happening in our culture right now kept coming up. In this moment when #metoo is making an impact in many different areas of our society, our expectations of ourselves and others are being confronted. There was an expectation for Simon’s mother-in-law to serve and so she did. But expectations can be problematic. It was expected, that if you worked in certain corporate offices or professions or fields – you would be harassed. And it was expected that you would accept that harassment if you wanted to further your career. It was expected that your boss or supervisor would make a pass at you and, if you reported it, you would be ignored or punished or your harasser would be reassigned to a place where no one would know what they had done. Survivors of harassment and assault would be stuck, not knowing who would believe them. Women in this situations banned together, alerting each other to the people and systems who enabled this hostile behavior to continue. It was expected, and through a collective silence accepted, that those with any kind of power would, and could, harass their subordinates. Not everyone did that but too many people, too many men, took advantage of their power over others to spiritually, physically, and emotionally hurt the people around them. It was power, not lust, that gave them what they want. And since these harassers were famous, rich, creative, or successful, they got away with what they did. Their victims couldn’t walk or run away because the rest of us, for years, chose not to believe those who were victimized. We assumed that those with power over others have a right to that power and we gave them the benefit of the doubt. But that benefit is usually all they need to harm so many others.

Now, most of us had never heard of #metoo until just a few months ago. But it’s a movement that was started over a decade ago by Tarana Burke, as a way to support women of color who experienced sexual harassment and abuse. By creating a space where a survivor could tell their story, #metoo has brought to light the kind of expectations women and some men were supposed to put up with. Even the church, through it’s #churchtoo movement, is being confronted by the stories of women and men, especially women clergy, who are regularly harassed and abused. This movement is making an impact in every part of our life where one person has power or authority over another. And it’s about time that it has. For too long, this kind of violence has been tolerated because it was expected. Too many people, through no fault of their own, have had to live through these experiences. Not every survivor will feel safe enough to share their story. But those who do, who know they will have to live with the consequences that come with sharing their stories in a world that doesn’t want to hear them, these women and some men have helped, I hope, to unravel our expectations of what power is supposed to do. And in that process, they are revealing the kind of power that Jesus exercises and shares.

Because power, as Jesus shows, always lifts the vulnerable up. Jesus, when he entered Simon’s house, is immediately told about Simon’s mother-in-law. She is ill, with a fever. And in an era without ibuprofen and Tylenol, she is, most likely, dying. Simon tells Jesus all of his mother in law’s hurts, pain, and suffering because she can’t do that herself. And that’s when Jesus goes to her. He sees her. He takes her by the hand and lifts her up before she is fully healed. Before Simon’s mother-in-law is made well, Jesus helps her up, giving her the dignity she deserves because she is made in the image of God. It’s only after her story is heard and believed, after she is given her dignity and status as a true human being, that she is made whole. Power, as Jesus shows us, doesn’t hurt the vulnerable. Those with power are called to lift others up, not because they and the vulnerable are perfect but because Jesus is.

And then, after all of that, Simon’s mother in law serves. And it’s okay to be uncomfortable with that. She still lived in a world full of expectations. But after this encounter with Jesus, she is now able to thrive. She now has new life. And giving others new life is just what Jesus does. This new life isn’t something Jesus only gave to people he encountered 2000 years ago. That new life is something Jesus has already given to each of us. Jesus made a promise to each of us in our baptism that his love isn’t defined by how others view us. And he renews this promise of new life to us every day, helping us to love others in the same way he love us. So that means we get to hear these #metoo stories and then change. We get to redo our expectations of what it means to be in relationships with people who we have power and authority over. We get to believe the women and men who are survivors, to lift them up, and then give them what they need to thrive. And we are asked look back into our own past, to admit the wrongs we did or saw or experienced, and to not let “that’s just the way it was” be our excuse. Because, in our baptism, we were shown a new way to live. And, in Jesus’ life, we were given a new image of what power in God’s world is supposed to look like. Power is suppose to serve and not make those without power serve us. But when power over others moved the world to nail Jesus to the Cross, God resurrected Jesus from the grave, because God will always has the final word. And in those moments when the behavior at work or at church or at school make our eyebrow go up or worse, Jesus calls all of us to lift the survivors of harassment and assault up, and to give them the dignity, mercy, and new life that Jesus has already given to us.

Amen.

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Change.Your.Reality

Now after John was arrested, Jesus came to Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God, and saying, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.” As Jesus passed along the Sea of Galilee, he saw Simon and his brother Andrew casting a net into the sea—for they were fishermen. And Jesus said to them, “Follow me and I will make you fish for people.” And immediately they left their nets and followed him. As he went a little farther, he saw James son of Zebedee and his brother John, who were in their boat mending the nets. Immediately he called them; and they left their father Zebedee in the boat with the hired men, and followed him.

Mark 1:14-20

My sermon from the 3rd Sunday after Epiphany (January 21, 2018) on Mark 1:14-20. Listen to the recording at the bottom of the page or read my manuscript below.

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I want to start by saying something you might not agree with – but I honestly believe that Keanu Reeves might be one of the most talented actors of the last 25 years.

Or maybe I hold Keanu in such high regards because he was the star of the first movie I saw in a theater without my parents. The movie, of course, was Bill and Ted’s Bogus Journey. Bill and Ted are two lovable, if not very smart, teenagers from Southern California who travel through time in a phone booth. Keanu played Ted and I remember being impressed by his 90s slacker style, the hair that hung down and covered half his face, and the fact that he was really good at saying the word “whoa.” The movie is very silly and includes a scene where Bill and Ted recite song lyrics from the 80s hair-metal band Poison to try and convince St. Peter to let them into heaven. It’s a ridiculous film – but it’s my kind of ridiculous. And when my brother and I first saw it, we were in a run-down theater next to the low-rent mall and were literally the only people in the theater. We were kids and we received our own private screening of one of the most ridiculous films ever made. It was awesome and that’s how I met Keanu Reeves. He showed up unexpectedly in my pop culture life, and in the process, I became a fan of his for life. Now, I haven’t seen all of his films and I don’t seek out every interview he gives. But he’s a pop culture icon in my life and I know I’m not the only one who feels this way. He’s made such connection with so many different kind of people that when a picture was posted online showing him sitting on a bench looking sad, literally everyone on the Internet created images and sent him messages trying to cheer him up. When he shows up in our lives, some of us see his work, hear his words, and our one-way connection with him just sort of happens. We become a fan. It’s hard to describe why we become fans. It seems like it’s something we just do. We becomes fans of famous people and not-famous people. We connect in this one-sided way with actors and musicians, and also with colleagues, friends, and even strangers. There are people in this world who we bond with instantly and without effort. And once that bond forms, once we are a fan of them, a part of us, a part of our reality, a part of what we think is possible – actually changes.
And that change of reality is part of what Mark is getting at today. Jesus, at the start of this gospel, keeps showing up in unexpected places. He goes to see John the Baptist and is baptized in the River Jordan. Jesus then spends 40 days in the desert, away from everyone. But once John is arrested, Jesus returns to the place he grew up in: the area around the Sea of Galilee.

Jesus is taking a stroll on the shore of the Sea of Galilee when he interrupts Andrew and Simon. Andrew and Simon are busy working, tending their nets. I imagine they expected to spend that day seeing nets full of fish rather than meeting the Savior of the world. But Jesus walked straight into their lives, spoke one sentence, and Simon and Andrew dropped everything to follow him. Jesus then walked a little farther, running into Zebedee and his two sons: James and John. James and John, like Andrew and Simon, are busy working. They’re mending their nets so they can catch the fish they need to survive. And James and John are not alone. Some workers and their father are in the boat with them. Now, scripture doesn’t give us any details about Zebedee or his relationship with his sons. We don’t know if they cared about each other or if they had any future plans for their shared lives. James and John might have been the ones Zebedee expected to inherit the family business, pass on the family name, and be Zebedee’s when he became too frail to work. And then Jesus showed up and James and John left their dad in the boat. Any expectations they had about only being fishermen is now gone. Every plan their father had made for them is suddenly undone. This family is sitting by the Sea of Galilee when they meet the Savior of the world and their reality, their expectations, and their future plans all radically change. When Jesus shows up, he expects more than just fans; he expects followers.

We might hope and pray that our experience with Jesus might look and sound like what happened to Andrew, Simon, James, and John. We might feel like we’re waiting for that moment when we meet Jesus in a very real and powerful way. We want to see Jesus face-to-face, in a completely unambiguous way, and in a moment where Jesus and life suddenly makes sense and all our doubts and questions finally cease. We’re waiting for a moment when faith will happen to us and we’ll say “woah” like Keanu and actually mean it. We expect Jesus to move us from being only a fan of his – with our doubts and concerns and moments when we don’t even know if we believe – and once we are perfectly faithful, then we can finally be the follower of Jesus we think we’re supposed to be.

And I’ll admit that I sometimes wish my faith worked like that. Because that kind of faith, that kind of spirituality, feels like it would be sort of easy. Jesus shows up, I hear one sentence, and I finally get what it means to be with Jesus. Andrew, Simon, James, and John seem to imply that following Jesus is something that happens in a moment. And we who are faithful but a bit doubtful start making assumptions about what made these four disciples change so suddenly. We assume they must have believed everything about Jesus when they first met him, we assume they knew exactly how the story would turn out. We assume that every question they had was, in that moment, instantly answered. But that kind of easy spiritual moment only happens if we end the gospel according to MarI right here. If this was the last thing we heard about Andrew, Simon, James, and John – we could say that faith is supposed to be a neat and simple and very clean. But we will see that the story doesn’t end here. And as we read the rest of Mark, these four will end up being terrible followers of Jesus. They will seek out power and misunderstand what Jesus tells them about humility, sacrifice, and love. They will try to keep the marginalized and vulnerable away from Jesus, failing to see how Jesus makes caring for the oppressed a primary focus of everything he says and does. These four will cross borders with Jesus and fail to see how Jesus wants them to expand what hospitality looks like. These four will even talk back to Jesus when he tells them about the Cross because they couldn’t imagine God making a sacrifice so that all people, regardless of nationality, gender, race, or citizenship in God’s kingdom, could actually thrive. And these four will, when Jesus is in his greatest need, deny and abandon him.

These four are not perfect followers of Jesus and Jesus didn’t wait for them to be perfect before he made them his own. Following Jesus isn’t about waiting for that perfect faith-filled moment. Following Jesus is about trusting that Jesus’ promise are true. Jesus doesn’t ask his disciples to believe everything before they follow him. He simply asks them to trust that he is with them. That kind of trust is a little spooky because it assumes we will have doubts, that we will have questions, and that we will sometimes wonder if we even are a fan of Jesus himself. That kind of trust knows we will not be perfect but it still follows Jesus anyways.

And we start building that trust by noticing where Jesus shows up. He chooses to show up in our baptism, making us his, forever. He chooses to show up in the bread and drink we are about to share. He chooses to show up in the middle of all us, right now, when we gather together in his name. And he chooses to keep showing up to us when we are outside these church walls, leading us down paths he has already trod. We are called not to be perfect but to make our way through our life by following in his footsteps. And we trust that Jesus is making us more than just his fans. He is making us, the imperfect, into his faithful followers so that we can see him, know him, and live like him, and really mean it when we see love face-to-face and say “whoa.”

Amen.

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Who Do You Listen To?

Now the boy Samuel was ministering to the Lord under Eli. The word of the Lord was rare in those days; visions were not widespread. At that time Eli, whose eyesight had begun to grow dim so that he could not see, was lying down in his room; the lamp of God had not yet gone out, and Samuel was lying down in the temple of the Lord, where the ark of God was. Then the Lord called, “Samuel! Samuel!” and he said, “Here I am!” and ran to Eli, and said, “Here I am, for you called me.” But he said, “I did not call; lie down again.” So he went and lay down. The Lord called again, “Samuel!” Samuel got up and went to Eli, and said, “Here I am, for you called me.” But he said, “I did not call, my son; lie down again.” Now Samuel did not yet know the Lord, and the word of the Lord had not yet been revealed to him. The Lord called Samuel again, a third time. And he got up and went to Eli, and said, “Here I am, for you called me.” Then Eli perceived that the Lord was calling the boy. Therefore Eli said to Samuel, “Go, lie down; and if he calls you, you shall say, ‘Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.’” So Samuel went and lay down in his place. Now the Lord came and stood there, calling as before, “Samuel! Samuel!” And Samuel said, “Speak, for your servant is listening.”

1 Samuel 3:1-10

My sermon from the 2nd Sunday after Epiphany (January 14, 2018) on 1 Samuel 3:1-10. Listen to the recording at the bottom of the page or read my manuscript below.

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When do we stop listening to new pop music?

A few years ago, a study was released asking that question. The study took several years of data from the online streaming music service called Spotify, matching the songs people listen to with their actual ages. And the authors of the study noticed that consumers of pop music follow a pattern. Pop music becomes important to us when we are teenagers. We’re developing our own cultural tastes but, since we’re young, we don’t know what our options are. We first listen to whatever is popular on the radio or the Disney channel or whatever we see on YouTube. And then, as we transition into our late teens and early twenties, we start expanding what we listen to. We discover bands and genres that are not on the radio. We affirm our own sense of independence and our own unique identity by becoming that person who tells their friends that we know what’s cool before they do. And then, in our mid 30s, our search for new music typically stops. We keep listening to the bands and albums we already love and we go back to re-discover the music that was popular when we were teenagers. While the rest of the world invents new musical styles and new sounds, we stay in the place we already are. Now, I know that this pop music generalization doesn’t work for everyone. I’m sure you have a friend who always knows what the kids are listening to these days, or you might be that kid yourself. But this pattern of what we listen to feels like it might make sense. And I’ve been thinking about this lately because something happened in our local media market that made me wonder if I’m on the other side of the pop music listening curve.

Because about two months ago, I was driving home after a meeting at church when I stumbled on a new radio station. And this station was doing something different. They were playing all the music that dominated the radio waves in Denver, CO in the late 80s and 90s. This new radio station is devoted to “alternative.” Do you remember alternative? It’s bands with names like Toad the Wet Sprocket, Nine Inch Nails, Radiohead, Hootie and the Blowfish, and the Crash Test Dummies. I was a bit shocked, to be honest, when I stumbled onto this station because this…this was my childhood. And I know I’m totally revealing my age here and there’s a chance you have no idea who these bands are – but I want you to imagine, for a moment at least, stumbling onto the music that you grew up with, this music that spoke to you, the music you hummed to yourself as you were trying to fall asleep every night. And if you’re young and what I’m talking about hasn’t happened to you yet, I’m hopeful that this experience of discovering your personal soundtrack will come. And then, in twenty years, you can be like me, and stumble onto the songs that matter to you while you are living in a new place and at a new point in your life. And then when that happens, will the songs you used to sing sound just like they did when you were 15? Or can we hear them in a new way?

I don’t know what music Samuel listen to when he was young. And in our first reading today, he actually is still young – probably just ten or eleven years old. When he was born, his mother entrusted him to the Temple in Jerusalem and that’s where he grew up. So it’s probably safe to say that the music of the Temple was the soundtrack to his early life. Psalms, hymns, trumpets, and various string instruments became, I think, Samuel’s songs. And as he tried to fall asleep in our first scripture reading today, I imagine that he hummed these Temple songs as he laid down after a serving God.

And then, suddenly, Samuel heard a sound he already knew but one that couldn’t really place. So Samuel did what he always did when he heard his name: he went to Eli, the spiritual and political leader of Israel. Eli lived in, and tended to, the Temple and he was Samuel’s caregiver. The words Samuel heard as he fell asleep were words he knew well. The person always singing this kind of song, always shouting his name, was Eli, so Samuel got up, ready to reply. Samuel, I think, was doing what we all do, sort of just half-listening to the words that were spoken. He heard his name and he instantly went into his own personal pattern of finding Eli and offering Eli a reply. Samuel, at this moment, struggled to understand what was happening. He didn’t pause and listen for that kind of understanding. And he probably didn’t even think he had to pause at all. The words he heard were, he assumed, from a song he already knew. But this time, the Lord was calling. And God, whose voice and breath gave Samuel, life, was speaking to Samuel in a new way. God wasn’t asking Samuel to listen like he always did. God wasn’t looking for Samuel’s usual reply. God need Samuel to pause, to listen for understanding, because God had a new word to share.

I wonder how many of us have said something, only to know by the responses that we weren’t understood. I wonder how many of us have been so focused on our reply that we didn’t understand what was actually being said. If I had a guess, I imagine that everyone in this room could share dozens of stories about the times when they weren’t listened to or when they failed to listen to others. It’s not hard to just react to what someone says. It’s not hard to be so focused on our reply that we end up being defensive, we lose our empathy, and we attack whatever the other person just said. We sometimes spend too much time trying to “win” whatever conversation we’re in, rather than actually listen and understand the words we hear. And that’s because, I think, listening for understanding is very hard. And it’s scary. And it forces us to be vulnerable. When we truly listen, we discover the ways we hurt others. We learn hear how our in-actions caused pain to those around us. When we listen to understand instead of just listening to respond, we discover how powerful our words actually are. And we are forced, in that moment, to put our own ego aside. Because when we listen, we let the other person lead and we become their servant.

And that, in essence, is part of what it means to be follow Christ. We are called to listen for understanding. And this call starts the moment God calls our name. That call is made public, for all to see, when the waters of baptism are first poured over us. This call to listen is a call meant for us and for little William Lintner in his baptism today. And even though the words of this call do not change, the meaning for us changes as we change. The words and songs that set us on fire as a teenager and helped us grow up in our 20s always stay the same; But we, the ones who are listening, change. We grow older. We gain new experiences. We run into new challenges and we find new joys. And so we’re not asked to just respond to things like we always did. We’re not here to only focus on our replies. God invites us to listen for understanding. God invites us to lose our ego and know that God’s voice and words will come to us from unexpected places and through unexpected people. And we are called to trust that the God who called Samuel is still calling us. Our God is still speaking. Our God is still singing a song just for us. And we can, right now, turn towards God and our neighbor and truly listen.

Amen.

Torn Open: Baptisms are Events

John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him, and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins. Now John was clothed with camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. He proclaimed, “The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals. I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.”

In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

Mark 1:4-11

My sermon from the Baptism of Jesus (January 7, 2018) on Mark 1:4-11. Listen to the recording at the bottom of the page or read my manuscript below.

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Did you ever wonder what it’s like to be baptized in the Jordan River?

Now, I know I’ve shared the following images and video before but on a day like today, when we celebrate the baptism of Jesus and the upcoming baptism of Shane Kurtz, I felt like I needed to share these images again. A few years ago, an old friend of mine served as an assistant for the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Jordan and the Holy Land (aka the ELCJHL). She lived in Jerusalem and spent time in the various congregations that make up the ELCJHL. One of those churches is this one (show image) – the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Bethany Beyond the Jordan. This church serves mostly as a pilgrimage site because it overlooks a spot on the Jordan River where tradition says Jesus was baptized. The Jordan River, as you can see here (show image), isn’t really much of a river at all. It’s more of a muddy stream at this point. And the track the river follows isn’t exactly the same as it was 2000 years ago. In fact, Jesus’ traditional baptism site is sometimes like this – (show image) – dry. But it occasionally fills with a little water (show image). The tent like structures in the back serve to keep visitors safe and out of the sun. The stone stairs and pillars are old, and were used by the ancient churches that once stood on this site. One thing visitors to this place like to do is to actually step into the Jordan river itself. But what would that look like? Well – it might look something like this: (show 15 second video).

Now, doesn’t that look…I dunno…warm? Last I check, it feels like it’s -5 outside here in Northern New Jersey. And I’m sort of tired of wearing multiple pairs of socks, long underwear, and winter hats while walking around my own house. I am ready to be somewhere warm. And looking at these images of Jesus’ baptism site – with its bright sun, white sand, and plants full of green leaves – I sort of want to just jump into that river – and let the sediment rich waters – full of yellows, oranges, and reds – wash over me. That water, from here at least, looks warm and inviting. But we all know that looks can be deceiving. And my friend who took that video told me that the water in the river was ice cold that day.

Now, we have no idea what season it was when Jesus went to visit John in the wilderness. We don’t know if it was spring or summer, winter or fall. Scripture doesn’t really give us many details when it comes to Jesus’ baptism. And our reading from the gospel according to Mark spends more time talking about John the Baptist than it does about Jesus’ baptism itself. This gospel doesn’t really pause and reflect on what this baptism of Jesus is all about. Details that might help explain this event are just not there. Instead, the text moves really fast. Jesus shows up and the first thing he does is go straight into the water. And as he comes out of the river, with the red, yellow, and orange waters dripping off him, Jesus sees the heavens torn open and the Holy Spirit coming down. The inherent separation of God and humanity is broken, it’s torn apart, by this Jesus who walks into the water. But the text doesn’t linger on this point. You would think that Mark might want to spend a little more time describing what the heavens being torn apart might actually look like. He could have spent at least one or two sentences explaining or making more plain what was going on here. But he doesn’t. Mark doesn’t give us any time to really linger on Jesus’ baptism. Instead, Mark wants to move on. He’s rushing us through this moment, trying to get to verse 12 and beyond. Jesus’ baptism is important – but Mark doesn’t slow down and try to explain what this event is all about. We might have questions about this moment, like why would Jesus need to be baptized? And why would Jesus, the Son of God, the one who had no sin, need a baptism for the forgiveness of sin? We might want to pause, reflect, and try to uncover and explain everything about this moment. And in some ways, we’re invited to do that because I stopped reading the story at verse 11. We assume we’re supposed to linger on this moment. But looks can be deceiving and Mark is in a rush. He doesn’t want us to explain this moment; this baptism of Jesus; he wants us to experience it and to recognize the event it actually is.

So what if we let Mark take us through Jesus’ baptism as fast he wants to? There’s no time for us to linger. There’s no time for us to wonder why Jesus was at the River Jordan once he shows up. Instead, once Jesus arrives, he’s down there in the river , submerged in the yellow, red, and orange waters that make up the Jordan. And when he stands up, we suddenly see something new. Because we are, at that moment, witnessing an appearance of God [working preacher, Karoline Lewis] that we have never seen before. Because at this moment, God is standing right there, in the water. And God is surrounded by more than just water, and sand, and lush green leaves. God is surrounded by people of all kinds and from many different places who are there, confessing their sins. All of them were yearning for God. And God unexpectedly showed up and walked into the water with them, letting everyone know that they are not going through this life alone.

Jesus’ baptism is, above all, an event. And the baptism that we practice, the baptism that we experienced, are events too. Now our baptism might not have been filled with the special effects like Jesus’ was. And the water used to cover us might not have been full of red, oranges, and yellows. But as the gospel according to Mark shows, our baptismal moment is focused on what comes next. Because God knows that there are verses to our own story that are still being written. None of us can predict exactly what our future might bring. And none of us know where life might take Shane or us next. But we do know that, in special moments that are filled with water and prayer, God makes a promise to each of us that we will never go through our life without Jesus by our side. When Jesus stood in the River Jordan, everyone saw God in a way they hadn’t seen before. And later today, when the waters of baptism are poured over Shane, we will see God doing a new thing. Jesus will become Shane’s companion, guardian, and friend forever. And as we bear witness to God doing a brand new thing for him, we are all reminded that the God who walked into the muddy waters of the Jordan is still here, walking alongside each of us and he is our companion, our guardian, and our friend – through this life and beyond.

Amen.

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Unwrapped: Christmas Being Christmas

In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. All went to their own towns to be registered. Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David. He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.

In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!” When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.” So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger. When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child; and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them. But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart. The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them.

Luke 2:1-20

My sermon from Christmas Eve (December 24, 2017) on Luke 2:1-20. Listen to the recording at the bottom of the page or read my manuscript below.

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How do you add a little Christmas peace to your everyday life?

That was the question I was pondering on Friday while sitting in the Costco parking lot, stuck behind a car that was double parked because every other parking spot was filled. Now, I know, visiting any retailer a few days before Christmas is going to be a little wacky. It’s literally an adventure that requires patience, tenacity, flexibility, and lots of prayer. And if you think about it, parking lots during the holidays are places full of faith. We’re always just praying – praying that God will gift us a precious parking spot as soon as supernaturally possible. And so, as I spent those precious moment stuck in that parking lot, I decided I needed to take a deep breath, relax, and de-stress. So I put on a little Christmas music to try and get a little peace during a very unpeaceful time.

And so, as my Christmas playlist cycled through hymns, old standards, gospel pieces, pop, and even Christmas punk, I noticed that many different kinds of artists in many different kinds of songs have one very specific trick they use to make their music sound more Christmas-y. And that’s – this *shakes jingle bells*. Jingle bells. This little jingle and jangle is used to make every song feel a tad more like Christmas. Now we know jingle bells work in a song like Jingle Bells but did you also notice these bells in Mariah Carey’s “All I want for Christmas is You.” Andy Williams, in his 1963 Christmas album, doesn’t seem to use any bells but then we get to Little Drummer Boy and the snare drum is matched with a hard and harsh jingle bell. Hanson, the 90s pop group who became famous for their song Mmmm bop, have no problem adding bells to literally every song that they do. When artists want to set a Christmas mood, these bells are used to set the tone. So I wonder, would using these bells be able to turn any moment into a Christmas one?

Like, if I had these bells on Friday while waiting for that parking spot at Costco, would my situation feel different if I just jingled these bells? And if it that worked, would these bells also help out when I had to sit down for a tough meeting with my boss, or when I’m trying to figure out my taxes, or when I have to remind my kids for the 100th time to turn out the light before they leave the house? Can these bells turn any situation into a Christmas one, bringing a little joy and, I hope, some peace?

But this kind of thinking assumes that there is only one kind of Christmas. Christmas needs to feel a certain way, have certain kinds of joy, family, and friends around to be Christmasy. Yet, not every Christmas is as peaceful as we hoped they would be. Some of us will spend tonight and tomorrow alone. Others are spending their first holiday without someone they loved. A few of us might be dreading seeing our family members and still others don’t want to see what their credit card bill will be after the presents are all unwrapped. And all of us, as this community of faith, know that there are folks nearby who lack the food, the shelter, and the access to healthcare they need to thrive. It’s easy to jingle these bells and imagine that Christmas is really centered on a feeling of happiness and comfort. But not every Christmas will fit on a Hallmark card. And there are moments when the jingle of bells doesn’t really feel appropriate. There are certain experiences, certain songs that our lives sing where the jingle jangle of bells would not cover up or erase or change what we are going through. As we live our lives and experience everything that life has to offer, the sounds of Christmas – of what we imagine and think Christmas is supposed to be – may not actually be what we need.

And yet, it’s at those moments, I think, when we need Christmas the most. But I don’t mean Christmas as merely a tone or a mood or some kind of backing soundtrack to our lives. Rather, when we are living through our non-Christmas moments, that’s when we need Christmas to be as it truly is. We need to know that God chose to come into the world at an imperfect time, when a 9 month pregnant Mary had to travel over 90 miles on a donkey because the Roman Empire was forcing them to be counted. And when Jesus came into the world, he wasn’t born in a palace or a hospital or a medical ward. He entered the world in a stable where an animal’s food dish served as his first crib. Jesus came into this world just like we do – vulnerable, weak, and helpless. Jesus, God, the creator of the universe, the one who is past-present-and-future all at once, decided to live a life where someone else had to take care of him. God came to into our world to truly be one of us – to know our pain, to feel our loneliness, to celebrate our joys, and to experience every one of our frustrations. Jesus chose to do something unbelievable. He chose to be an actual human being.

Like all artists who use bells to turn any song into a Christmas song, Jesus chose to live a human life so that he could add a little bit of himself to everything we experience. He is there when Christmas feels like Christmas and he is also there when Christmas feels so very far away. And in the moments when we feel alone, or abandoned, or when we don’t even know what we believe, we might feel Christmas is really a story for other people. But it’s not. Christmas is about Jesus coming into this world and into our lives as we already are – and not as we think we’re supposed to be. Christmas is about the creator of the universe becoming human because your life has value, your life has meaning, and you and this world are worth more than you can possibly know. Christmas is more than just the sound of jingle bells trying to turn every moment into a Hallmark one. We are, in Christ, surrounded by a love that holds us, guides us, and strengthens us, especially when we are in our greatest need. This love, this Christmas, this Jesus – will always be with us – because tonight is the night when God became human.

Amen.

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Meek and/or Mild: Mary isn’t Passive

In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth, to a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin’s name was Mary. And he came to her and said, “Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you.” But she was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be. The angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.” Mary said to the angel, “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” The angel said to her, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God. And now, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son; and this is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren. For nothing will be impossible with God.” Then Mary said, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” Then the angel departed from her.

Luke 1:26-38

My sermon from the 4th Sunday of Advent (December 24, 2017) on Luke 1:26-38. Listen to the recording at the bottom of the page or read my manuscript below.

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I think it’s fitting that on this Christmas Eve morning, this fourth Sunday of Advent, we are spending time trying to see Mary. And that word “see” is important. Today’s reading from the gospel according to Luke is known as the Annunciation: the moment when the angel Gabriel tells Mary about what God has in store for her. The passage tells us the general location where this event is taking place and who is there but that’s about it. We don’t know where in Nazareth Gabriel met Mary. And the passage doesn’t tell us any details about Gabriel and Mary themselves. We don’t know what they look like or even how old Mary was. Instead, scripture gives us an opportunity to step into this part of the story and imagine this moment for ourselves. For centuries, artists have done just that. And so, if you don’t mind doing something a little different, I’d like to showcase a few pictures of the Annunciation so that we can see how this moment in scripture has inspired artists for centuries.

Pictures in the slideshow
1200px-Fra_Filippo_Lippi – Filippo Lippi,
Annun_angelico_grt – Fra Angelico: The Annunciation
The_Annunciation_MET_DT404 – Luca Giordano
The_Annunciation_MET_DT1469 – Joos van Cleve
C – greek cathederal.com
Dante_Gabriel_Rossetti_-_Ecce_Ancilla_Domini!_-_Google_Art_Project
The Annunciation 1898 – by Henry Ossawa Tanner
Unknown Artist
Annunciation-patricia-brintle – Patricia Brintle
The Annunciation by John Collier

Now some of those images might have been familiar to you. They might resemble what we imagine this scene to be like. But other painting might have surprised you. Several of the images showed Mary reading a book. The book is usually identified as the book of Isaiah, implying that Mary was literate, educated, and that angel found her in a moment of prayer and study. Other pictures showed Mary in the dark of her bedroom or even while she was still in bed, at the moment when she was waking up. Some of the Marys had the white skin of Northern Europeans. Others were olive, brown, and black. Some artists depicted Mary as a young adult while others imagined her to be the teenager she probably was. Each one of the artist used scripture, their cultures, and their traditions to imagine what it would be like to be a teenager in Nazareth who is suddenly told that she is going to give birth to God.
Now, as Lutherans, I know we don’t usually spend a lot of time with Mary. Her appearances in scripture is limited so we don’t hear her voice very often in Sunday morning. We spend time with Mary usually only during this season – when it’s almost Christmas. We give her a voice in our Christmas pageants and in the carols we sing. We talk about her, about how she’s going to give birth in a barn, and we sort of downplay the rest of her 9 months of pregnancy. We place Mary in our nativity sets and creches, with her hands folded in prayer. But she sort of sits in the back, behind everyone else, behind even Jesus. We place her there and then just let her be. In many ways, we spend this Christmas season letting Mary be a passive participant in her own birth story.

But is she really as passive as we make her to be?

There are two other images of Mary that expand her story for me. And each one appears takes place while the baby inside Mary grows. The first one is this one, an image of Mary based on the song we just sang. She’s standing tall, her foot is crushing the serpent from the Garden of Eden, and she doesn’t look pregnant. Mary sings her song while visiting her cousin Elizabeth. Elizabeth is more than six months pregnant with her own son who will become John the Baptist. But while everyone knows Elizabeth is pregnant, Mary doesn’t yet show. I imagine that Mary, in this moment, is in her first trimester. She’s in the part of her pregnancy where miscarriages are common. Mary can be quiet at this stage but she knows what’s going on. She knows what God is doing. And she sings about who God is, who God loves, and what God’s justice is all about. The second image is one I discovered recently, first created in 2003 by a Trappistine nun in Iowa. The image shows Mary when she is very pregnant. She can’t hide what’s going on anymore. But she doesn’t need to. Instead, she’s everything who she chooses to be – and she’s in this image, consoling Eve. Her foot again is on the head of the serpent because, through her, God is moving us past our sins. Her son, this Jesus, will be the one who will take this broken world and unite it with its creator. And this Messiah, this Savior, this king of all kings, is being nourished, carried, and cared for by this young woman who is someone that the people in Nazareth could not see as ever being the mother of God. In these last two images, Mary is exactly who she’s supposed to be: she knows who she carries inside her; she knows who God is; she knows that’ll she’ll be Jesus’ mom; and she chooses to be an active participant in what God is doing in the world. She doesn’t know the details about Jesus’ story – but she does know that, through Jesus, God is blessing the world. And God wanted Mary to be a necessary part of what God is bringing about.

Many of the images of the Annunciation focus on the moment when the angel first show ups. They dwell on the angel’s arrival, Mary’s wonder and confusion, and her confession: “how can this be?” But it doesn’t take very long before Mary is saying, “Here I am; let it be.” Mary doesn’t know exactly where God will be taking her but she does know that God will be changing the world through her. And as she grows and changes, her son, this son of God, is nourished and loved and changes too. It is impossible for Mary to be passive participant in the Jesus story because Jesus is literally a part of her for 9 months. And as Jesus grows, so does she. Mary shows us that Jesus and our faith are truly gifts that we are given. But this gift doesn’t mean that we are a passive participant in our own faith story. We are, like Mary, invited to move from “how can this be?” to “Here am I, the servant of the Lord.” God has decided that it’s through people, through actual human beings, that God will honor, bless, and love the world. We are, like Mary, called to keep Jesus close. We are, like Mary, called to carry Jesus wherever we go. We are, like Mary, called to listen to the angels God puts in our path. And we are, like Mary, called to sing and work for justice in our neighborhood and in our world. We are, like Mary, called to be the ones through whom God will bless the world.

Amen.

Send the Rich Away – Ben Wildflower https://www.etsy.com/shop/BenWildflower
Mary Consoling Eve – A sister from Trappistine Monks in Iowa made this

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Who Are You? Shining Bright

There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light.

This is the testimony given by John when the Jews sent priests and Levites from Jerusalem to ask him, “Who are you?” He confessed and did not deny it, but confessed, “I am not the Messiah.” And they asked him, “What then? Are you Elijah?” He said, “I am not.” “Are you the prophet?” He answered, “No.” Then they said to him, “Who are you? Let us have an answer for those who sent us. What do you say about yourself?” He said, “I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness, ‘Make straight the way of the Lord,’” as the prophet Isaiah said. Now they had been sent from the Pharisees. They asked him, “Why then are you baptizing if you are neither the Messiah, nor Elijah, nor the prophet?” John answered them, “I baptize with water. Among you stands one whom you do not know, the one who is coming after me; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandal.” This took place in Bethany across the Jordan where John was baptizing.

John 1:6-8,19-28

My sermon from Third Sunday of Advent (December 17, 2017) on John 1:6-8,19-28. Listen to the recording at the bottom of the page or read my manuscript below.

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When I was younger, the long string of Christmas lights that wrapped around my Christmas tree sort of scared me. Now, don’t get me wrong – the lights were beautiful to look at. But I never really had a good relationship with the lights themselves. They were always tangled and I was the one assigned to untangle them. I would tested each string of lights and I usually ended up getting a little electric shock while trying to find that one bulb that was burnt out. And when the lights were finally wrapped around the tree, the bulbs would get so hot they would burn me when I accidentally touched them. Old fashion Christmas lights were kind of spooky to me but nowadays, LED Christmas lights are a brand new thing. They come in all sorts of colors; they are incredibly bright; and even though they still get tangled, they at least remain cool to the touch. I really like LED Christmas lights and I know I’m not alone. In fact, it seems like a lot of suburban homeowners are switching their outdoor Christmas lights to LEDs. And this is a good thing because LEDs, in theory, last a long time and use less energy. If, for example, an old fashion string of 100 mini-incandescent lights were turned on and used 12 hours a day for 45 days in a row, that would cost about $3.50 to run. But if you took that string of lights and replaced it with LEDs, the cost to use those lights drops to 41 cents. That’s 1/8th the cost for the same amount of light. We can make our outdoor Christmas lights displays more environmentally friendly and cheaper all at the same time. But some recent studies involving nighttime satellite imagery shows that the transition to outdoor LED Christmas lights is not only about having a less costly electric bill. No, people are using that cost savings to invest in more lights. Because if it costs 1/8th of what it did before to run a new string of lights, it makes sense to get 7 more strings of lights so that you can maximize the your Christmas buck. Our outdoor Christmas light displays are getting bigger and brighter. And if you were up in space and looking down on the United States, you would see the light output in the suburbs increase by 50% during the month of December. And with LEDs now becoming more prevalent, that number grows every year. These new LED lights help us to shine brighter than we ever could before. This is one of the ways, I think, we testify to a truth that we don’t always feel or see. As the nights in our part of the world grow longer and longer, we do the only thing we can do: we flip a switch and throw a little more light into whatever darkness surrounds us.

And flipping that switch – that’s a very Advent thing to do. As we hear in our reading from John today, testifying – shining – witnessing to this light – is what this season is all about. Now, this week is a little odd because we met Mark’s version of John the Baptist last week. And John’s version of the Baptist is a bit different. John’s Baptist spends a lot of time saying no. “No, I’m not Elijah. No, I’m not the prophet. No, I’m not the Messiah. No, I’m not the light.” Instead, what John’s Baptist does is testify. He shares and bares witness to the truth. Mark depicts John the Baptist as a bit of a wild man who is eating bugs out in the desert. But John’s Baptist is a guy who primarily just talks. He shares what he knows and what he has experienced. Over and over again, he breaks the silence that wants him to stay quiet. John’s Baptist keeps talking about God, pointing out to others where God is and where God is active in the world. At every possible moment, he is pointing to that light that he knows is out there. And he does this even though he knows not everyone will believe. Once john’s Baptist tells the truth, he has no control over what other people will say or do once they hear it. He doesn’t get to tell others how they should react. So John’s Baptist just keeps on talking – and he doesn’t let his fear about how other people will respond stop him from telling the truth; the truth that is Jesus – this God in the flesh.
And this kind of testifying, this kind of witnessing, is really hard. It’s hard because keeping silent is sometimes the safest thing we can do. Any time we share a truth or an experience that we’ve had, it’s easy for others to not believe us. How many times have you had your feelings brushed aside after you shared how you felt? How many times were you blamed for that thing that you experienced? Too often, we are told that our feelings or responses to our personal experiences are, somehow, wrong. We’re the ones, we’re told, who misinterpreted what happened to us. We’re the ones who are being too judgmental and our experience wasn’t really that bad and we’re being a little too sensitive. We start believing what others say, learning that we can’t trust our own experiences, and that other people are the only ones allowed to interpret our own story. We discover what it’s like to be disbelieved and, in that process, we lose the ability to tell our own story. We lose a bit of who we are because this shadow that surrounds us has more say over our lives than we do. We end up doubting the truth and we try to cover up whatever light we see.

But the truth is something that always needs to be brought out into the open. When we tell the truth; when we give witness to the light as we know it, we are, in the words of Dr. Karoline Lewis, “[insisting] that [this] light will indeed shine, [overcoming] the darkness that has hidden so much for so long.” This season, this Advent, is more than just a countdown to Christmas. Advent is an opportunity for all of us to flip a switch, to turn on every light, and give witness to the truth that we know. Every experience we’ve had is our experience and the story we tell is a story that has value. Now, I know that not every story will be told. And there are some stories that we might not be ready to share with those around us. And that’s okay. But when we hear someone else’s truth, we are called to protect their truth and believe them. We’re not here to dismiss them. We are here to listen, to learn, to comfort, and – if need be – to change. And if we can, we add a little more light to their story by telling one of our own. We show through our words and actions that they are not alone. Because, as we see in today’s reading from John, testifying to the light – sharing and giving witness to the truth is our Christian calling. It’s what Advent – this time of waiting – this time of anticipation – this time of expecting – is all about. Because Jesus invites us to remember that “our God…moves about this world feeling everything we feel.” Our God is always with us, no matter what. And because God is with us, because God decided to be born, to grow up, and have actual human experiences, our God, our Jesus, will be with you even when telling the truth ends up being the hardest thing you’ve ever done.

Amen.

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