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WORSHIP THIS SUNDAY CONTACT US |
> MARY, MOTHER OF OUR LORD SERMON
MARY, MOTHER OF OUR LORD SERMON I am so grateful to have Mary's day, August 15, falling on a Sunday this year! I'm grateful because, to my mind, we Lutherans don't spend enough time with her. I'm sure it's in response to what we take to be an OVERemphasis on Mary in the Roman Catholic Church, but there are only two Lutheran churches in the country named for the Mother of our Lord. (And one's in St. Mary's, Pennsylvania, so I'm not sure that counts!) The only time when Mary's front and center for us seems to be Christmas Eve. And there she's likely blurred in the fog of over-buying, over-eating, maybe over-drinking, with a hefty dash of nostalgia and 'White Christmas' thrown in. So, I'm grateful that here in the heat of summer and the light of day (not a poinsettia in sight!), we can look at--be devoted to--the one whom God chose out of all the world to give flesh and blood to his Son. When the angel of the Lord came to this unmarried, teen-aged peasant, presenting his astounding, world-changing news, Mary said simply, "I am a servant of the Lord. Let it be to me according to his will." As Luke tells the story, he contrasts unassuming Mary with the great priest Zechariah, who refuses to believe that his wife Elizabeth will give birth. What irony! The backwater teenager believes God, while the temple priest doubts him. So Zechariah is struck speechless by the Lord, while Mary sings a song of joy and gratitude to him. And what a song this "Magnificat" is! After an opening of praise and wonder, Mary declares what sort of things this conception means to the world. (One commentator suggests that the rest of Luke's gospel is really an unpacking of Mary's song.) Still pregnant and expectant, Mary's verbs are curiously in the past tense, as if to say that even at the start of his incarnation, God has already accomplished dazzling, world-changing things. "He has shown strength with this arm. He has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones and lifted the lowly. He has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty." She sings a revolutionary song, one that has actually been banned in some Latin American countries. It's much too threatening to the status quo, to those who are in power. The mighty are undone! The lowly are raised up! The hungry ones feast! And the rich are dismissed empty! There's a whole lot going on with this baby!! I can understand how this song would speak to ancient Palestinians, trampled by Rome, the many oppressed by the few. I can imagine the hope that Mary brought to South African blacks under decades of apartheid rule, when 80% of the population was essentially imprisoned by the white minority. "Sing it, Mary! Belt out for us that freedom song!" But I've got to admit a measure of disconnect--discomfort even--hearing these verses as one rich guy (by the world's standards), well-dressed, housed and fed, living in one of the most powerful and privileged nations on earth. What does her declaration mean to us , I wonder? As God has his way in the world, what difference does it/will it make? As we debate the status of immigrants, belly ache about taxes, flex our military muscles, consider the health needs of our nation, deal with global warming, fight over the rights of gays, see the footage of 1/5 of Pakistan under water, what does Mary's song have to say? Does she sing it to us, or for us, or perhaps against us? We might rather wish she were boxed up with the crèche set this morning, out of sight mind, and silent. Rather, Mary is nagging us with the promise of God's will over against our own, opening our reluctant eyes to see what he, not we, intends for creation. Mary's revolutionary song declares a reversal of what is: first last, and last first. It is about justice and wealth being distributed among all whom God loves. There's no way to get around it. The Song of Mary is a political one. I don't mean 'politics', as in Republican versus Democrat. But it is most certainly about the "polis", about our life in community. God's decision to become flesh and blood through Mary means that faith connects God to the world for the sake of its people. When Mary responds "yes" to God, understand that it was not merely a religious exercise, not just a Sabbath day gesture. Rather, Mary's 'yes' was the giving over of her whole life--body, mind and spirit--to God's purpose. It was letting go of what is to hold fast to what would be in him. Her 'yes' meant yielding to the promise of redemption: yielding to God as potter's hand, fuller's soap, refiner's fire. And so the Eastern Orthodox Church honors her as Theotokis , God-bearer for the world. Our gathering and its proclamation--"being church"--is not just about what happens when we die. The life and ministry of Jesus--"unpacking" his mother's song--are very much about the here and now, the haves and have-nots, the use of wealth and power, the practice of justice and peace. "Love came down at Christmas," writes Christina Rosetti in her lovely carol. "Love came down" indeed--to go to work, to shake things up, to bring heaven to earth--to the joy of some, sings Mary, and to the chagrin of others. The candlelight of Christmas Eve, with all the fancy decorations and elaborate music, may give the result of her decision an other-worldly character of bygone culture and customs. But that absolutely misses the point! Her 'yes' to God in Nazareth was to undo Eve's 'yes' to the serpent in Eden. Mary's obedience was to bless what had been cursed by sin...to restore the relationship between Creator and creatures, to embody a love that would never die, to give birth to the love that continues for you and me 2,000 years later. It is, in fact, a love resolute and powerful enough to make each of us a "Theotokis." Think of it: God-bearers all! In the waters of baptism we are called and blessed by God to bring to earth--to our daily lives and decisions through our time, talents and treasures--gracious evidence of God's favor. If you're thinking, "What difference can I make, really? What can this little congregation mean in the face of such overwhelming issues?" Think again, dear friends. If God could enlist a teen-aged pregnancy in an oppressed tribe of Podunk Nazareth, don't you think he might actually have something in mind for us as well?! United to the body of Christ in this holy meal, God's agenda for the world becomes the agenda for our lives. The incarnation of Jesus--the birth of God's son--means that the Lord of all creation has decided to use mere mortals to accomplish great things. Overtaken by the Holy Spirit, God provides all that we need to give life and love in his name. This 'Christmas in August' gives us the chance to sing carols, not to cool us down, but to warm us up! You and I are invited not only to sing Mary's song, but to pray it, then to live it. We are welcomed to become flesh-and-blood participants in God's redemption. With the Blessed Virgin as our mentor, may we in humility and hope respond: "I am a servant of the Lord. Let it be to me/to us according to his will." Amen. PENTECOST VII SERMON I'm sorry not to have as an attention-getting opener for the sermon as I did last week. (I heard about it all week long!) But, you gotta work with the material you're given, and this week's readings may seem ho-hum by comparison, especially the gospel parable of the "Good Samaritan", as we call it. Did I detect some eyes glazing over as I was reading it? How many times have you heard this story, I wonder? Preaching, Bible studies, Vacation Bible School, Sunday School--read it, studied it, maybe even acted it out. (As I recall, the robbers seemed to have all the fun.) We all know what the parable means, right?! I remember my Sunday School teacher Mrs. Greer asking, "Boys and girls, do you want to be like the priest?" Nooo! "Do you want to be like the Levite?" Nooo! "Do you want to be like the Samaritan?" Yes, teacher, yes we do! We've even got a "Good Samaritan" law in the state, protecting those who offer help to one in need. The "Good Sam" club is established for recreational vehicle owners. It's part of the language! But in this instance, familiarity may not be our friend. In fact, it can do a good job of fogging things up, especially if we read the story only with North American eyes. As citizens of the wealthiest, most powerful nation on earth, we come to this parable looking to accomplish something, am I right? The lawyer who asks Jesus the question sounds very American, I think: "What must I do to inherit eternal life?" He wants to go to work! (Never mind that inheritances aren't usually earned. You'd think a lawyer, of all people, would know that.) He's a smart guy, with a degree and resources and status in the community. "Tell me what to do now, Jesus, and I'll be on my way to the next job." A case could certainly be made that it's the 'can do' spirit that's made this country great: inventions --light bulb, telephone, automobile, airplane; building --railroads, hydro-electric dams, skyscrapers; transforming --farmlands, cities, suburbia; winning --the Revolution, World Wars 1 & 2. It seems that doing and accomplishing are in our DNA! To our ears, this parable is about seeing the need and accomplishing what's needed to overcome it: picking up the man, dressings his wounds, paying for his care, and promising whatever is needed in the time to come. No doubt all that is good and commendable in our day, whether it's looking for a cure, helping with disaster recovery, going on a mission trip, feeding the hungry, or assembling book bags for city kids. "Tell us what to do, Jesus, and we'll get to work!" As I said, it's undeniably good use of time, talent and resources, but it may not be the only point of this parable. Jesus asks the lawyer, "What does the Torah say?" Smart guy replies correctly: "Love the Lord your God with all your heart and strength and mind; and love your neighbor as yourself." Jesus says, "That's it! Be on your way." And the lawyer shoots back, "Wait a minute, Lord. But who is my neighbor??" That exchange gets us to a whole new level of this parable, much deeper, I think. It's not a matter of doing , but loving. It's about relationship as the foundation of what we do. (In others words, we can throw a few bucks in the pot to feed the hungry. But it doesn't mean that we love them or even want to get near them.) Before the "doing" there needs to be the "being." " Who is my neighbor?" is the lawyer's attempt to limit his neighborliness...to set up boundaries beyond which 'doing' need not go, as if real love could ever be limited or restrained. Being in the Kingdom of God--'inheriting eternal life,' in the lawyer's words--is not about 'doing' at all, but about 'being'. Because Inheriting is always being on the receiving end of a gift...of grace. That gets us back to the story. So, with that thought in mind, is there someone else we might identify with in this story? Mark Allen Powell, Bible study leader at our synod assembly, wowed us with his reading of this parable. First, he mentioned our usual European/North American 'take' on it. And then he shared how most African Christians understand it. They don't identify with the lawyer, the priest, the Levite, or even the Samaritan. Rather, almost without exception, they see themselves as the man lying in the ditch alongside the road: beaten, stripped, robbed and left for dead. That should come as no surprise. Under years of colonialism, the lands were stripped away from the natives, the minerals were robbed, the people were forced into slave labor (or literally sold as slaves.) Their customs and cultures were obliterated. They were, by and large, seen as sub-human. So, if they happened to perish in the process, they were regarded as little more than the nuisance of road kill in the ditch. In preparation for our trip to Africa, I've been reading Nelson Mandela's 700-page autobiography, "The Long Road to Freedom." It is a stunning story, bearing witness to the strength, determination and faith of this one remarkable man. It was also an eerie reminder to me of what happened to the native American of this continent as the Europeans settled in. We didn't call it 'apartheid', but was just that in many ways, as our government broke over 600 treaties, took valuable land, destroyed a culture, and relegated the conquered to a trash heap of reservations, separate, isolated and exceedingly UNequal. No surprise at all that, unlike First-world readers, Christians throughout the Southern Hemisphere would identify with that fellow in the ditch. They know what it's like to be robbed, beaten, and left for dead. They understand the feeling of utter helplessness and dependency...to being brought so low that grace is the only alternative. They know what it's like to be battered, bruised and helpless, so that the grace of another is their only ticket...their only hope. I'd like to suggest that those besieged brothers and sisters may be on to something?! The kingdom of God is not about doing-- in control--but about being --in relationship with the Grace Giver. It is about being out of control, in fact, so that the gift of grace can enter our lives and take over. The former slave ship captain John Newton wrote the hymn Americans love to sing: "Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me; I once was lost, but now am found; was blind, but now I see." We sing it with gusto, but I not certain that we really get it. Honestly, how often have we felt like wretches, lost blind? We're folks so used to being on the top of the heap, the haves, the heroes, the deciders, that the thought of being needy--in the ditch--is pretty repulsive to most of us. Couple that with the fact that the Samaritans were hated half-breeds in Jesus' day, tainted Jews who married Gentiles, people who didn't even worship in Jerusalem, and this parable gets our heads spinning. "Good Samaritan" would have been an oxymoron in ancient Palestine, for us like "Good Terrorist." One writer puts it, "To enter the Kingdom one must get into the ditch and be served by one's mortal enemy." Perhaps he's right. But I think it may also mean lying in the ditch to be served by God in Christ. Perhaps this is Jesus' way of breaking down yet another boundary, becoming like a hated Samaritan to offer himself, to take the risks, to pay all that's needed for the one who is nearly dead. Grace doesn't come to those who choose it, like they select a new car or pair of shoes. Grace rather comes to those who have no choice, who cannot resist because there is simply no other alternative. When you are that near death, grace is the only way to life. Martin Luther's explanation to the Third Article of the Creed sums it up well, I think: "I believe that I cannot by my own reason or strength believe in Jesus Christ my Lord or come to him." (Think deep ditch!) "But it is the Holy Spirit who calls me through the gospel, enlightens me with his gifts, sanctifies and keeps me in the one true faith." (How dearly I love that insight!) Before we can go about loving, we need to know love. Before we can be about giving, we need to be on the receiving end. Before we go about doing anything, we must be made new--born again--brought back to life by the grace of Jesus. So, you want to do something? Act like the Good Samaritan? Care for someone in need? Praise God!! You will praise God and glorify him if your heart knows all we have and are as undeserved gift from his gracious hand. Amen. PENTECOST VI SERMON Let's see...eenie, meenie, minee, moe. Which one shall I choose? Isaiah brings us the images of 'consoling breast' and 'glorious bosom'. And Galatians is filled with talk about circumcision. I suppose I could take the easy way out and focus on the gospel, but to be honest I am really drawn to the beautiful mothering image from the prophet. That's why I brought in the art work that's on the easel. I hope you saw it. The setting for this passage comes near the end of the long book of Isaiah. You may remember from Bible study that Isaiah's really a collection of three books from three different writers. The early chapters decry the faithlessness of Judah, the southern kingdom, and warn of its destruction. The middle chapters speak to their exile in Babylon. And these final pages are written after their release from captivity and return home. For 3 generations, they longed for that return. To each new generation they told stories of the good old days: of King David and his conquests, of King Solomon and his glorious temple, of what it meant to be the holy chosen people of God. Decade after decade they reminded themselves of the privilege and responsibility of their place on earth. "Get us back, Lord, and we'll be faithful. You'll see--a 'light to the nations,' Just as you planned!" Well, they did get home. The Lord sent General Cyrus and his armies to attack Babylon, release the prisoners, and to take them home. What they found at home, of course, was war's devastation, covered by 70 years of dust. Like the remains of Sherman's "march to the sea", or Hiroshima after Enola Gay's visit, there was nothing left but pain-filled rubble. Cyrus even rebuilt the temple for them, bigger and better than Solomon's, but life was hard, excruciating, dismal. A country, a people, a spirit, a faith do not easily arise from such ashes. The reality of life was so much less than they had hoped for. In spite of the new temple, it was for many very hard to know God's presence, to see his work, or to trust in his promises. It is to that reality that these words of third Isaiah first spoke. And, after all the warrior, judgment, and conquest images of God, hear again how remarkable these are: "Rejoice with Jerusalem, and be glad for her, all you who love her; Rejoice, all you who mourn over her, that you may nurse and be satisfied from her consoling breast; that you may drink deeply with delight from her glorious bosom. For thus says the Lord: As a mother comforts her child, so I will comfort you...and it shall be known that the hand of the Lord is with his servants." It's unfortunate that some in this country are offended by what is so natural and welcome in the rest of the world: mothers nursing infants. The bonding that takes place in that sharing is second to none: nourishment and anti-bodies, protection, security. It is quite literally the embodiment of love, life-giving love as God intends it. We just celebrated Father's Day, and of course dads are good for all sorts of things, including love. But my experience has been that when the knees get scraped, or when the tummy aches, when feelings are hurt or when nightmares assault, there's nothing life Mama's hug and kiss and consolation. To be honest with you, I think that what draws me to this first reading this year is my sense of such need, personally and for us as a congregation. We have been under assault. Have you noticed? The attack of disease on our dear Dr. Wolfe has stunned us and his doctors. Several other Trinity members have been recently diagnosed with cancer and have begun treatment. Still others of our family are battling chronic pain or emotional debility. These weeks since Easter have not been kind to us and those we love. On one particularly down day, I said to counselor Ralph Reeves that I feel as if the universe is coming unglued. So, I confess my need for Mama God's loving arms. (You probably each have an cherished experience of such care. For me, it's my baba's--my grandmother's--almost breathtaking hugs.) When our world comes unglued, when medicine reveals its limitations, when our mortality and vulnerability are all too obvious, where is there to go except to that breast, those arms, that certain and welcoming love?! Have you noticed how much our weekly liturgy embodies that kind of experience? We hear from God a "welcome home" as we gather. Then, in the confession, comes an "I forgive you." We hear words of wisdom, guidance and inspiration--'good news.'. Mama says with the prayers, "So, now tell me what's troubling you." Then she offers a kiss of peace, followed by the invitation to "Come, eat and drink at my table." As we near the end of the visit, she blesses us again: "Be on your way, strengthened and renewed. Oh, and while you're out, be sure to share my love with others." Can you sense the wonder of it all? Some complain about the rote and routine of our worship. (I wonder if they'd say the same about a kiss or hug?! "Same old, same old.") And, yes, I suppose there could be something sterile about seeing all those words on the page of a bulletin. There's likely an air of formality in a building like this. True, there's not much room for spontaneity in our liturgical traditional. But I hope that none of that inhibits your experience of God's love, nurture and care when we gather. God calls us together in Christ to banish our fears, bind our wounds, strengthen body, mind and spirit, and give us hope, whatever may be going on around or within us. (Let mama kiss it and make it better!) So that even with all that destruction surrounding them, God invites her people to "rejoice with Jerusalem and be glad for her." "Rejoice and be glad!" Not because things are as you want them to be. Not because we've got all the answers or resources that we need. But rather because God is God--Mama's right there with you!--and nothing can separate us from that love!! (Not even death can separate us from it, reminds St. Paul.) There's one other important truth that comes from this passage, I think. It is the transfer of motherly image from God to Jerusalem and back again. Did you notice? First Isaiah invites them to Jerusalem's consoling bosom; then it's the Lord who offers hugs and kisses. I think it is a witness for the church as well. As "new Jerusalem", you and I are to make real God's love on earth for his people. Just as we receive, so also we give. I have seen that so powerfully in your response to the latest round of assaults: in your ardent prayer, in the cards and notes you've written, in the art work of our kids, comfy pillows, prayer shawls, visits and offers of help. So many of you have been there as 'consoling mama', as witness to our life-giving God for the sake of those who are under siege. Please don't take that role for granted, and don't underestimate the power of your presence. I know that so many of us feel helpless as we face these daunting invasions and their aftermath. Please know that whenever we offer our prayers, our hugs, our notes, our chicken soup, that God goes with them, God empowers them, God will see that they accomplish all that God purposes. That is really the marvel of the church and of discipleship throughout the ages. Jesus promises his disciples that when they are sent out, he will be with them. As Risen Lord, with the power of love beyond the grave, he is unstoppable. He engages you and me to make real his presence in the face of all that denies God's love. It has little to do with my skills or abilities, my shortcomings or insecurities. "Not me, but Christ in me," as Paul reminds us. It is in Christ that we offer it, and it is by him that our efforts will bless. I'm not sure what image of God you may have brought with you this morning. But Isaiah and I suggest that you take along this grand, maternal, voluptuous God--loving us far more than we deserve, and promising things far greater than we can imagine. Amen. PENTECOST IV SERMON I wonder how the film industry would rate today's gospel reading. We've got a frightful, demon-possessed, naked man living in a cemetery. Terror, violence, nudity--all in a day's work for Jesus. Luke tells the story so vividly! Jesus ventures into Gentile territory--across Lake Galilee--for the one and only time in the gospel. Last week, you'll remember, we had a 'woman of the city' crashing a dinner party. Today, it's a 'man of the city' raging among the tombstones. This guy must have had some reputation! Luke writes that people tried chaining him to the stones, but he was strong enough to break the chains. You can imagine that this demoniac was the butt of jokes and also the scapegoat for anything awful that took place: scary noises, missing crops or animals, nightmares...blame the crazy guy in the cemetery! That's what makes this opening scene such a surprise. Here in the Gentile land, the demons who posses him recognize Jesus, and even call him "Son of the Most High God." Jesus seems unphased by it, and simply asks the demon for his name. "We are Legion," he replies. It could simply have meant 'many', since a legion was about 6,000 soldiers. It could also have been a jab at the Romans, the enemy with all the legions. A modern equivalent might be "My name's Al Qaeda," with an appropriate chuckle from the audience. But demons were no laughing matter. Throughout the New Testament, we see them devastating lives: causing seizures and handicaps, raging wildly, involved in sorcery, violence and other anti-social behavior. Modern science might call this guy's symptoms schizophrenia, or bi-polar disorder, paranoia, or epilepsy. There are also those who grapple with the 'demons' of alcoholism, drug addiction, depression, Alzheimer's, homelessness, and more. Medicines and therapy can get a handle on some, but not all of those things. We know this: Lives are ruined by the millions, however one might label the affliction. Once they give Jesus their name, the demons realize the power he has over them, and it's then they who start trembling. "Don't send us into the abyss," they plead (whatever that means!). So, instead, Jesus sends them into a nearby herd of pigs. Given the Jewish aversion to swine, this may have seemed like joke #2. "The great legions want to become pigs. Mighty Rome: oink! oink!" And for a grand finale, Jesus sends the whole herd over the cliff and into the sea below. (We were once on a boat trip on Lake Galilee, and the guide pointed to a white-streaked cliff on the far shore, saying, "That's where the pigs took their dive." Mark Allen Powell, Bible study leader at the synod assembly, called this story the first mention of deviled ham--water-packed (!). But, the drowning pigs are not really the finale. Here's where the story really gets interesting, I think! The swineherds, deprived of their livelihood, go to town to tell what's happened. And when the people come out to see, they find the demoniac in his right mind, clothed and sitting at Jesus' feet. Jesus had power over the hordes of demons. With a word, he did in a whole Legion of them. He restored the village nutcase to health. You'd think everyone would have been thrilled. But Luke tells us that, instead, they were afraid, and that 'all the people' asked Jesus leave, for 'they were seized with great fear.' Some may have been upset by the disruption of the pork market. But, more widely, they may have been spooked by the display of such power: to heal, yes, but more, the power to change lives so radically. I wonder, how does that grab you? "Come, Lord Jesus, be our guest," we often pray at meal time. But are we really ready for what his visit can mean...unleashing the power of God in our lives and homes?! The former demoniac wanted to follow Jesus. He was obviously taken by his power and wanted to hear more of his teaching. But Jesus even turned that wish on its head as Jesus said, "Stay here instead. You can follow me by telling others about that God has done for you." And, in the final twist, Luke writes that he went throughout the city declaring what Jesus had done for him. The risen jesus has power over the demons, the beasties, the destructive and alienating forces in the world. He also has power of the elements in each of us that deny God's goodness and love. But hear the warning: Invite him into your life to take care of one things or another, and be ready for an extreme make-over! Like politics, I think that faith is also always local. Although "God so loved the world, ' that he sent Jesus to save it, he does so one person at a time: touching us with grace, forming us in community, proclaiming his life-saving message, sending us out to tell others. Encountering Jesus, "Son of the Most High God," is not like a visit to a tailor ship: take it in a little here; out a bit there. With Jesus, it's a total redo, top to bottom, inside out! With the infusion of the Holy Spirit, our demons are flushed down the drain. We are bathed clean and clothed in righteousness, carried from death to new life. Hear the words of our liturgy as if for the first time: • "By grace you are saved. Your sins are forgiven." • "This is my body, given for you; my blood, shed for you." • "Go in peace. Serve the Lord." Each time we gather here, it is to be touched by Jesus, Son of God. With a word, he makes us whole. And with the Spirit's power, he sends us out to spread the good news to others, so that they may come and experience him. Martin Luther captures it so wonderfully in the 3 rd stanza of his great 'battle hymn', "A Mighty Fortress": And though the world with devils filled should threaten to undo us, We will not fear, for God has willed his truth to triumph through us. Let this world's tyrant rage! In battle we'll engage! His might is doomed to fail; God's judgment must prevail! One little world subdues him." Those demons may well be legion. But, take heart in Christ, dear friends! Thank God!! And tell others!!! Amen. |
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