Reformation Day 2024

         Welcome to Reformation Day, Trinity.  In the Lutheran tradition, we celebrate the day that Martin Luther posted the 95 theses on the Wittenberg Church door, challenging the use of indulgences, the big fundraiser of the Roman Catholic Church to build incredible cathedrals at a great cost to ordinary people.  The deal was to pay for an indulgence, and a person could eventually spring their loved one from purgatory into heaven.  People went hungry in their anxiety for their loved ones, giving all their money to the church instead of paying for basics like food and clothes.  Martin Luther was appalled because if people had to pay to get into heaven, what did Jesus die for?

Luther wanted to start a rational conversation, but was excommunicated from the church and found himself with a warrant for his arrest, with a penalty of being burning at the stake.  His challenge disrupted the absolute trust that people were supposed to have in the priests, cardinals, and pope running the church and disrupted the flow of money.  He challenged their power and how they were using it, because he saw and named it was hurting people.  He spoke out against an injustice.

Luther brought reforms to the church.  Clergy could eventually marry, but he didn't want to make it about that.  He translated the Bible into the common language of the people, so they could read for themselves the word of God instead of only being told what the priests wanted them to hear.  People began to worship in their own language.  Luther distinguished his movement from the Roman Catholic church by advocating wearing black academic robes instead of monks or priests robes of brown or white.  Some Lutherans who love the liturgy are surprised to hear that he refused to advocate a particular order of worship because he felt there were infinite ways that people could approach God and express their praise and repentance.

A little over 500 years ago the Reformation of the church began.  Some people might be tempted to think we are done reforming, that we got it right and the closer we adhere to what Martin Luther was doing at that time, the better.  Some of us long for the times when church was central.  Church was what you did on Sundays, no sports, no shopping, no temptations or distractions.  Some of us long for a past golden age when faith was central, however, we are not Lutheran because we got it right, but because we are always reforming.  We always have improvements to make, injustices to speak out against, and a hurting world to respond to.

Even if we could return to that time, we would still see injustices that went unaddressed, like racism and misogyny.  This is the day that the Lord has made, and so we ask what does it mean today that Jesus has come to set us free.  What does that look like?

Jesus has come to set the church free, to reform the church today.  We might say, like those in the Gospel today, "We are Lutherans and we have never been slaves to anyone.  What do you mean when you say, 'You will be set free?'"  When we are only celebrating, remembering the glory days, we might forget that we have wounds, places where we are hurting, ways we are not free.  People hurt each other in faith communities.  We are not free from sin.  People with power silence those who have different opinions, and clergy, pastors and priests are the biggest offenders.  For those of you hurt by the church of any variety and giving it another chance, I honor your courage.  I admire your faith not to let your past experience stop you from expressing your thanks and praise to God.  I apologize to any of you I might have hurt along the way. 

The church must be always reforming, evaluating, reflecting, where are we doing Jesus' mission and where have we not.  We come to God for healing, for being set free, for receiving new life. 

We're not Lutheran because we got it right.  It doesn't make us Lutheran that we sit in rows and children are quiet and we have good order and are presided over by white Jesus at Gethsemane--I have seen that same picture in at least 5 different church, by the way, once in stained glass.  We're not Lutheran because of our order of worship or because we like to eat together. 

We're Lutheran because we are always reforming in order to more closely follow Jesus.  Which means self-examination, evaluation about how we are living out the mission of Jesus, admitting where we miss the mark and correcting course, learning, changing, adapting, confessing.  It means admitting where we are enslaved, where we are hurting, where we are causing hurt.  It means admitting our failures, where we miss the mark, where we tread on those most vulnerable.  It means continuing to reform.  The reformation is ongoing.  

We are always reforming.  We are working to live out our Trinity Land Acknowledgement Statement.  We have been enslaved to our broken relationship to the land and to Indigenous peoples, to using our power to dominate others, to capitalism and the idea of ownership.  Ignoring the land has wounded it and us, lead to extreme heat events that have cost the lives of our neighbors.  We have begun to notice the land and to heal it.  There is much more healing to be done to free us from the slavery of our ideas about dominating God's Creation and put us back into right relationship with the land.

We have been stuck in our relationship to the people who have gone before us in stewarding this land.  The land where this church was built was stolen from someone who loved it and had a responsibility for it.  The tribes that lived here still consider themselves responsible for caring for it since they have a sacred connection.  We benefit from the oppression that happened long ago because we are recipients of stolen land.  So we reform--we evaluate, we learn and read, we invite speakers who challenge us to next steps.  We have found so far, compassion and invitation from Indigenous leaders.  Prairie Rose Seminole invited us to ask why the ELCA disbanded efforts of predecessor church bodies to be in conversation with Native Peoples and support the work with grants and by showing up.  Did we think we had reformed enough?  Did we think the work was done?  What has taken the place of the National Indian Lutheran Board?

We are not Lutheran because we got it right.  We’re Lutheran because we are always reforming.  When you see an injustice in the church or in the world, let’s investigate it, and learn what part we play in it.  Let’s learn to speak up together.  This is what it means to be free.  Let us join with other people doing the work of speaking up and acting up, so that our neighbors might also be free. 

Jesus gave his life because he acted against injustice.  He set us free from guilt and sin.  Since he made such a sacrifice for us, we might as well live as those who have been set free and let him work through us to Reform our neighborhoods and the whole world.

All Saints Day 2024

 Between seminary and my first call to serve a congregation, I was chaplain in the hospital for a

year. I got a lot of experience visiting patients and being part of the care team, caring for the

whole person. Since then, I have always felt very comfortable visiting at the hospital. I hope

you will let me know if you are hospitalized. It is an important part of my ministry to visit people

in the hospital and offer spiritual support.

People always told me that no matter how comfortable you are in the hospital, it will be very

different when you are there with your own family members. I found that to be true when my grandma went in for surgery at OHSU for her liver. Some of her ducts had come loose—I’m bringing my profound medical knowledge here. She had diagrams from the doctor showing what the problem was and what could be done, which she mailed to me with notes and circles to help me understand. It was a real blessing that her surgery was here in Portland, because I could go visit her. I think she was in the hospital 5 days or so. I went up to see her like I have with hundreds of patients over the years, but it was different because of the love we shared. We talked 45 minutes or so. Grandma and I could talk all day. There was always more to talk about. But I could see she was tired. So I told her she didn’t have to entertain me, that she could go ahead and rest. I read my book and sat quietly by her bed. And I’m so glad we had that time. I draw a lot of strength from having just sat there by her side.

When I visited her at her home, there were always a million distractions, yard work to be done,

pickles to can and her great grandkids to chase after. I don’t even think anyone from the medical team came in at the hospital. It was just quiet. It made me wonder the times when grandma sat quietly by my bed or crib and told me to get my rest. How many grandchildren did she watch their breathing change as they relaxed into sleep?

My grandma had about 11 more months. She went home and she continued her level of activity

for the most part. Steve Hiscoe wrote me a note a few months back. It says, Aimee=whirlwind.

If you think I am a whirlwind, you should have seen my grandma. I could never keep up.

It is different to sit vigil by someone with so many shared memories and experiences.  We all hold these kinds of memories of someone we loved who we sat with or regrets we didn’t get to be there. So many feelings come up in our grief. We feel sad. We feel regret at the “what ifs.” We feel mad, maybe at ourselves or someone else that didn’t show up or what might have been and isn’t. We feel relief. We may someday come to acceptance.

The people in today’s Gospel are no different. I’m sure that Jesus looked back on his previous visit with Mary and Martha and Lazarus, where Mary sat at his feet as a disciple and Martha grumped that her sister wasn’t helping. Certainly Jesus wanted to be there when his friend Lazarus was dying, but he couldn’t go. The timing wasn’t right for God’s glory to be revealed. So he waited, wanting to be there to comfort these three that were like family to him, but prevented from it. When he got there, he was met by Martha’s grief and anger. Why didn’t he come? Why didn’t he prevent this suffering for her and her brother?

The Judeans are also angry that Jesus is late. That he is too late to be of any help. They are doing what we all do when someone we love has died. They are going over it and over it to figure out what they could have done differently. What would have helped this situation? And they know the answer.  It is Jesus who could have made a difference. They are right about that. But Jesus didn’t come to prevent death and suffering. He came to go through death and suffering with us and to bring us to eternal, abundant life, to bring resurrection to our places of death and pain.

Jesus brings all his emotions, too. He weeps. And he is greatly disturbed in Spirit--he is hopping mad. We may be uncomfortable with Jesus being hopping mad, but he is and in one other place in the Gospel, when he clears the Temple of the money changers, which is one of his first acts in the Gospel of John. He gets baptized, gets temped, calls his disciples, turns water into wine, and is hopping mad clearing the money changers from the temple. For the other Gospels, Jesus clears the money changers out at the end of the Gospel, right before Jesus’ arrest. For John, it is the raising of Lazarus that is the last straw, that leads to Jesus’ arrest. For all the Gospel writers, Jesus is hopping mad as he nears Jerusalem.

What is he angry about? He is angry that people are hurting, that they are suffering. He is angry

that Lazarus has suffered and died, at the forces of death that hurt people, that his friends are hurting. We downplay our anger, sometimes. We don’t think it is Christian to be angry, but it is. Anger can be an amazing motivator to bring about change. Jesus was headed to the cross and I would guess his anger at the way this world hurts people helped him focus on the sacrifice he was to make, motivated him to keep his composure before Pilate, to hold strong when he could have taken himself down from the cross. He was motivated by anger, by compassion, to follow through with what needed to be done, to feel the full suffering of the people, and to give his life that we might all rise to new life.

                Jesus asks the crowd to roll the stone away, but Mary names the decay that surely has already happened.  This stinks.  It stinks on every level—that her brother suffered, that Jesus was delayed, that everyone is hurting.  We too are invited to name what stinks.  This election stinks.  The way people treat each other stinks.  The war in Gaza stinks.  That people are hungry and sleeping on the pavement outside stinks.  We are allowed to name it and feel the anger that will motivate us to be agents of change, to let Jesus work through us to make a difference.

It is not too late. We think that Jesus has dawdled, that he wasn’t here, but he has been here all along. He makes possible what we can barely hope to dream, what seems impossible—There will be no weeping or pain or sorrow or grief. Heaven and earth will be united. The nations will be healed and at peace. We are invited to be part of the miracle, the wiping of the tears and calling out of injustice, the tending of the wounded and sitting vigil with those who have no one, the unity of the table where all are fed. Jesus calls us from our grief and anger, joy and acceptance, from the tomb where we felt all was rotting away, to dream, to dance, to hope, to vote, to change, to act, to come forth.

Nov 10, 2024

 The debate amongst the pastors this week studying this Gospel to prepare for preaching, was whether it was a good thing that the widow gave all she had to live on or not.  Is she someone to be emulated and admired, or are we supposed to see that the systems, the governments and churches we are part of, hurt vulnerable people sometimes, or even often.

Let's look first at the Widow of Zarephath.  There is a drought in the land.   The drought is caused by the Israelite King Ahab's disobedience.  It is affecting those nearby.  His actions are having consequences for those who have no say. God's prophet is instructed to go the unbelievers, these Canaanites, who are not outside God's love and care.  He indeed finds someone there who is faithful to God, who cares about others, even though she only has a little, and who is generous in a moment when she had almost nothing.  So God points to the Woman, the widow of Zarephath as an example to all of us about how to learn from unexpected people, people who have little, people outside our faith, and to be sure to tend to their needs to decrease their suffering and the suffering of vulnerable people.  This is a woman to emulate, to share what we have, to build relationship, to have faith in difficult times.  Even more, this is a prophet to emulate, going to people who are suffering, seeing that they do have something to offer, value in their lives, and asking them to be a part of the revealing of the Kingdom of God.

So back to the Gospel, we are first warned.  Beware!  Watch out for, do not be drawn in by people in long robes who pray long prayers and like to get attention.  We are warned against leaders in government and leaders in our churches who are there to take for themselves and their friendsi--power, money, attention, to puff themselves up, give themselves security, amass power.  They devour widow's houses.  In taking for themselves, they hurt other people, they hurt vulnerable people who have no safety net.  They take from those who have already lost almost everything, believing that no one will hold them accountable or notice.

Our faith tells us to notice.  The scripture is full of reminders to look out for widows, foreigners, and all those in need.  Our faith gives us a conscience.  It reminds us that we were once foreigners, the Israelites in the Exodus moving through the desert, depending on others.  Abraham, moving in his old age from his spot to follow God's call, a foreigner through many towns and cities, depending on people's kindness.  Many of you have traveled and found a welcome, helpful people willing to give directions or share a table.  And when you have not been welcomed, it is a moment of reflection, to ask ourselves what we want to be like.  Do we want to be welcoming or not?  We have a choice to be kind and compassionate or selfish and rude.

Beware of those who like to get attention and power for themselves and take from poor people and those who are hurting.  Jesus is now seated opposite the treasury at the Temple and he notices something very few people would.  Here are these leaders, marching up and down and make a big deal about themselves, when someone small enters the scene.  It reminds of the Richard Scarry book where you would always be on the lookout, was a it a little bug hidden on each page?   Here comes this person, not calling attention to herself, the opposite of these leaders, and she has two small coins, all she had to live on, and she puts them in the treasury.

What's going on here?  First of all, she doesn't put them in or donate them or even give them.  She throws them in.  This doesn't seem like an act of generosity.  She doesn't seem happy about it or gentle, even.  It could be that this is her Temple tax, that this is how much she owes in order to have access to God through the Temple system.  She is paying into a system that is supposed to have her back.  How often are churches, houses of worship, willing to receive offerings, and then unwilling to give back, to look out for people who are hungry and suffering and losing their houses? 

We don't know what happens to this woman.  She throws in all she had to live on, into a system that may or may not have her back, may or may not be faithful to her.  Maybe she is hopeful that the religious people will be faithful and do what God commands.  Maybe she knows that is unlikely.  More than that it is a challenge to us.  In what ways does our church notice, support, and help those who are hurting, who are losing everything?  In what ways does our government notice, support, and help those who are hurting and losing everything?  In what ways do we take, take, take from those who have less to build up our own power and money and attention?  

There is a difference between giving to the church and giving to God.  Churches are imperfect.  Churches are institutions that don't see people and their suffering.  Churches are working to keep themselves afloat and increase their power and money.  But churches can be full of people who care, and people who are paying attention to who is in need.  People can give themselves away, make sacrifices for the sake of people like this widow.  Churches are institutions that may sometimes help and sometimes harm, run by people, who are invited through the scriptures to be like Jesus.  

We are first invited to notice like Jesus.  That's the major good news in this Gospel.  Jesus notices this woman and the tiny contribution she makes.  He notices her suffering, her defiance, perhaps, in throwing in the coins.  And Jesus knows where her story goes from here, the stories of all the people who fell through the cracks, and the stories of all who were received into community and cared for.  Jesus notices.  Jesus sees.  And Jesus sees and holds accountable all who ignore the poor, oppress the foreigner, and refuse those who are hungry and in need.  Jesus even works through us, to point out and hold accountable our institutions, whether they are doing harm or helping those most in need.

And we are invited to give like Jesus.  We are invited, as churches, as the body of Christ, to give all we have to live on, to give it away, to bring new life, to die to sin and selfishness, and to rise to new, abundant life.  This widow today is a Christ figure, giving all she had and holding nothing back, but she shouldn't be asked to make that sacrifice since Jesus gave his life to redeem us and show us a better way.  We are invited to die to sin and rise to new life, a new way of sharing life so that we don't cause hurting people more suffering.

The Psalm says it best. Put not your trust in rulers.  They are temporary.  Put your trust in God.  When you read the Hebrew Scriptures, 1 Kings and 2 Kings, it can be really surprising how few good Kings there were.  The people asked for a King and God told them it was a bad idea.  They insisted.  God knew people are flawed and that power corrupts.  God tried to give them a good king by choosing David, the youngest of all, a shepherd.  David's job as a shepherd was to notice--to look out for the little ones, to protect and guard them.  These are good skills for kings.  David was a good King because he was humble--he could see when he made mistakes, took responsibility for them and worked to do better.  He was a good King because he was generous, looking out for people on the margins and making sure people were cared for and had their basic needs met.  He was a good King because he noticed the little ones, like any shepherd is trained to do.  He was a good King because he kept relationship with God, taking instruction, pouring out his heart, listening, and following the way of the shepherd.

We find ourselves in institutions, churches and governments that devour widows' houses, amass power for themselves, hurt people, have no conscience.  But we the people are the church and we the people are the government and it is important that we stand up against injustice done by our institutions, the systems that hurt people, that we work to change them.  It is important that we notice hurting people, have compassion on them, remember that could be us and is us at times, and to take risks and make sacrifices for the vision that Jesus gives us--that all will be fed, the foreigner welcomed, the prisoner and sick will be cared for, the widows will be a valued part of community, the wolf will lie down with the lamb, the child will play over the snake's den, the trees will clap their hands, and all will be at peace.  

I have a song I learned at God's Work Our Hands week of service projects from Alys, our friend from Pilgrim Lutheran Church up the road.  It has really helped me focus this week when I have been anxious.  God has no body now on earth but yours, no hands but yours, no feet but yours.  Yours are the eyes through which he pours out compassion to the world.  Yours are the hands blessing me now.  Let's go and do God's work.  

October 22, 2024

         I have been given ultimatums too many times as pastor of a church.  People say, “Unless this thing that is bothering me changes, I’m going to leave this church.”  One time it was about where the choir warmed up.  One time it was that I was standing outside of the pulpit when I preached.  Sometimes it has been about the style of worship, too contemporary. Sometimes it’s complaints over rowdy kids or the change of a hymnal.  Over the years I take this kind of statement less personally.  I’ve seen people come and go, and know that more often than not, it is out of my hands, so I try to trust that God will grow the church that God has in mind.  I appreciate when people come and tell me that they are moving on, so I know what is going on, but I can’t help thinking of this scripture when people are treating church like they are shopping at a store and asking, “What can this thing/place/community do for me?”  Here Jesus comes into contact with just that sentiment from his disciples, “Give us what we want.”  They are looking at the cost/benefit analysis and they are trying to decide what would make all this worthwhile, this leaving everything to follow Jesus like we were talking about last week.  What am I getting out of this?

          We are part of the body of Christ, to serve and to be last of all, according to Jesus.  The cup that we drink is the one that Jesus tried to hand back to God in the garden of Gethsemane but then said, “But not my will but thine, be done.”  The place at Jesus’ right hand and left in his glory will be the thieves crucified on either side of him, not his to grant.  The Disciples aren’t ready for that, but will eventually be once they take the Gospel to the ends of the earth and pay the price by giving their lives, too.

          It doesn’t make for a very good sales pitch to ask prospective new members if they are ready to becomes servants of all and drink Jesus’ cup of suffering and death.  I’m not ready to take up my cross and be crucified with Jesus. 

          I got so used to these kind of demands, that one day when a young woman with two young children asked to join the church and I said, “Don’t you want to go to a church with more kids?”  She said to me, “We will be here when families with kids come and make them feel welcome.”  That was the beginning of a big change in my previous church.  Someone simply came not to be served, but to serve.  Five years later we were doing service projects with the kids, had a church camp-out two years in a row, with about 7-10 young families and many intergenerational events and projects. 

          The other change that happened around that same time was a new ministry that connected that church with neighbors and volunteers that gave the congregation a sense of purpose, so the ministry was less about the individual and more about the whole community.  It took the focus off whether anyone was getting what they needed and put it more on whether people were able to use their gifts to give generously of their time and money and resources.

          The question of who is a good leader is about distribution of resources.  Does the leader use their power to increase their wealth and status and comfort?  Leaders of this world often do.  Or does the leader give away power for the life of the whole community and become a servant of all, empowering ministry to happen in all kinds of ways.

          This is why I am excited to be thinking of what ministries might help Trinity and Santa Cruz give ourselves away.  This is why we have relational meetings to have conversations about what is on our hearts and minds, what is hurting, where are we motivated to make change.  We are dreaming at the moment.  We are waiting for the priest at Santa Cruz.  But God is nudging us in the meantime to give ourselves away and to follow the way of Jesus.

          Will we become a Red Cross shelter?  Will we be here serving meals and welcoming the weary?  Will we become a warming shelter, getting to know the names of our friends who walk by cold and wet every day and getting to know our neighbors who come wanting to give themselves away for the good of community?  Will we become a hub where people come to learn how to can fruits and vegetables, make soap, or bake a pie or tamales?  Will we become a community center where people come to learn Spanish and English and translate their documents?  Will we become a sanctuary church if our friends are in danger of being deported?  How will Jesus use us to move from the me to the we?  We don’t yet know.  The future is unfolding. Let’s get ready for whatever cup Jesus will hand us, because it won’t just be filled with suffering and death, but new life will spring forth, resurrection life, connected life, Kingdom life.

          We are here at consecration Sunday, asking how we can give of ourselves and follow Jesus. We’re deciding how to use our resources.  We can use it always for the building up of our own families and households.  And yet Jesus is advising us to become a servant, and to share of ourselves, what we have and who we are, for the life of the world.

          We heard from our friends each week about what it means to be generous.  Alana shared her cancer story and how important it was to her to offer to God her attitude of hope and joy.  It was true that every time I called her, she was so cheerful and ready for whatever was next.  She was giving thanks to God for God’s generosity.  We heard from Stan about how his family is taking this wheat crop land that they own and putting renewable energy on it and also leaving room for the wildlife, as a thankful response to God’s generosity.  And we heard from Steve who talked about the stewardship of crawling under the church in the spider webs and insulation to make repairs, as well as giving his ten cents to the church as a little boy.  All these stories are about the bigger picture, remembering that God gave the Son for the life of the world and that Jesus held nothing back, but went to the cross to give new life to the world.

          In response to God’s generosity and love, we have the opportunity to be part of something bigger and more beautiful that building up ourselves.  Jesus is making servants of us all to build the kind of Kingdom that gives life to all.

September 15, 2024

         I am feeling the heaviness of the news of serious illnesses amongst members the past few weeks here at Trinity.  Two young men with ties to the congregation have died in the past month on top of that, so I am asking myself about what it means to let go, to die, to lose your life, and then also to take it back up again, to enter the joy of the resurrection, and to set our minds on divine things instead of earthly things.

          When I set my mind on earthly things, I feel heavy.  I feel the heaviness of illness, of pain and of suffering.  I feel the heaviness of the chore I have waiting for me at home of refinishing my kitchen cabinets, scraping layers and layers of paint to find the wood underneath. 

          Our cabinets are strong, built in 1951 of plywood.  It would be easier to pull them out and install something from Ikea or Home Depot.  But all that is chipboard covered in some vinyl.  We had chipboard vinyl cabinets at our rental in Tacoma and they warped and did not stand up well to wear and tear.  So we are removing the hardware and stripping off about 7 layers of paint, off white, yellow, green, blue, pink and some kind of barn red marbled effect.  It’s time consuming and messy and I have my respirator and goggles because there may be lead in there.

          Maybe our lives get covered in layers, like my kitchen cabinets.  We think we’re making improvements.  We cover our lives with vacations and jobs and hobbies and friends, but maybe that’s covering up something about who we are or what is at our core.

          Jesus had this pure core and people just kept pouring their expectations all over him.  Who was he, this son of Joseph from Nazareth?  Who was he, the warrior king, anointed one, Messiah, that would come and destroy their enemies?  Who was he, John the Baptist, about to be silenced or Isaiah, the prophet?  They kept trying to dress him up, to make him more presentable, But Jesus peeled away the layers and said no to each one.  What he revealed was the nature of God.  These human layers, trying to add riches, and might and weapons and a long life were not the divine things that defined him, as the Son of God.

          Peter is starting to be able to name Jesus’ identity, as Messiah, but that means different things to Peter than to Jesus.  For Peter, the Messiah adds so many layers of paint.  He has the layer of purple for a king, and red for other people’s blood he would shed, gold for the riches he would accumulate, green for the army fatigues he would wear in war. But Peter was setting his mind on human things.  One by one, Jesus peels the layers away.  No he would not be holding a sword.  Jesus’ blood would be poured out.  No he would not go to the fancy parties, he would be with the lepers and the poor and divorced people, the children, the foreigners and tax collectors.  No he would not be eating fancy food—instead he would say, “I thirst.”  Jesus would be arrested and go to trial and be tortured.  Jesus would be stripped down to the most powerless person and die on the cross, and yet there was something at his core that was so very solid, that could not be killed. 

None of that stripping away would change who Jesus was or how he saw his mission.  At his core was of God’s own nature and purpose, with grains interweaving for a different kind of strength, of community building and relationship and love and sacrifice.  And in death he was raised up on his throne, the cross, as the son of a carpenter, to bleed on a tree and to die there, to let go.  But that death did not destroy him.  It only revealed him as the good shepherd, the light of the world, the bread of life, the Son of God.  And it revealed us as his followers.

          As we take up our crosses, we too face the peeling of the layers.  Sometimes it is about other people’s expectations for us and getting to define who we are, what is at our core and whether to reveal it, who to be in relationship with, what will be the focus of our lives.  Sometimes it will be about the sacrifices we will make, what we will give up to be our true selves.  Sometimes it is about the choices we make about how to live and what to hold on to and what to let go of.

          I see this in many of you already.  Some have left places far away to come and define yourselves and your own values.  Some of you have left other religious communities that have hurt you and although it hurts to strip that away, you have found joy again.  Some of you are facing serious illnesses and you decide that illness will not define you or destroy who you are.  And all of us are always learning to let go and say goodbye. 

          From the moment our children are born we are releasing them into the world little by little.  I see this teen transition in my kid, pivoting from primarily a family focus to a focus on friends.  We will be there for him, but he is facing another direction from us.  Parents tell me that even when their kids grow up, you never stop wondering what they are doing and worrying about them. 

          All of life is saying goodbye and saying hello, stripping off the layers and finding another.  The seasons change.  Our bodies age.  We start jobs, change jobs, retire, and volunteer.  We say hello and goodbye to friends.  We strip away the layers of what is important.  I’m at the point I care a lot less what other people think of me.  I am more solid in myself and I don’t obsess as much as I used to about things I can’t change.  Life is change.

          We mark that change in remembering our baptism.  We come to the font and we remember that God washes away our sins and strips off the layers of human focus.  God sees us as we really are and offers us the solid strength of the divine point of view—there is a bigger picture, we are all siblings, love is what matters, seek forgiveness from yourself and others, we have a promise that we will all be drawn together in Christ.  Every day is a new chance to wipe away what is covering up the truth and to live the solid values of the Divine.

          Every day we are born anew, saying goodbye to our old self and embracing the new life God gives us.  Sometimes that means stepping into a new day when we realize our limitations.  Is it time to move to a one-level house?  Is it time to let go of some part of myself that I thought was essential, but maybe it isn’t.  It is about dying and about rising.  It is about letting go of what was and moving forward knowing that we aren’t alone and that we are loved and that life prevails, not this temporary life, but eternal life.  We wake up and let go of a view of our own health, and embrace a new definition of health and what that means even as we are aging. There can be health and healing, even as we are letting go and losing our temporary life.

          There can be health, when people face the reality of our mortality, when we make amends, when we tell the truth, when we give something up for the greater good.  I’ve really appreciated the witness of health and healing from some people I’ve walked with as they were dying.  One is Judith, who made friends with her tumors and talked to them each day.  She eventually couldn’t do anything about them, so she saw them as part of herself that had grown and multiplied too quickly.  She checked in with them, sked them to slow down a little.  And she allowed herself to be surrounded by those she loved.  We sang with her and to her.  A few months after she died she came to me smiling in a dream.  She was sitting in the sun in a red convertible car.  I knew she was ok.  I told her daughter about my dream and it gave her a lot of comfort.  Kathleen was another who was an example to me in dying.  I saw her a few times after a surgery in which she didn’t receive the proper medication after and her lungs filled up with fluid but she survived, only she never walked again and never recovered.  She lived on another year or more.  But we had the chance to talk and I shared with her my admiration that she had adopted two children. Our whole church had walked with her through these 2 adoptions.  She’s my favorite sermon example of sacrifice and love and hope, how when she brought her daughter home, she just held her and held her until her daughter knew she was loved and belonged and this was her forever home.  I used to babysit Kathleen’s kids and I got to see what a loving home looked like that was brought together from the far corners of the world, these unlikely siblings, Kathleen and the wild women she called their family.

If you’ve never read “Being Mortal” I hope you will.  I have a copy you can borrow.  It is about considering what quality of life you want when you become terminally ill.  It is about letting go and finding healing.  It is about not being afraid to go if it is your time.  It is about stripping life down to what is most important, telling your own truth, making your own decisions.  Jesus shows us that letting go of life is not giving up.  It is not losing a battle.  It can be healing and hopeful.  It can lead to resurrection life.

And for a congregation—what does it mean to give away our life?  What does it mean to make a sacrifice for the sake of another?  What does it mean to become a seed planted for future generations?  What does it mean to die and rise again?  That’s something to ponder as we learn to deny ourselves, follow Jesus, and take up our cross.  I’d like to pour some paint over it and say it will be rosy pink, but instead let us contemplate the strength of heavenly, divine things and peel away the layers until the truth sets us free.

September 8, 2024

             Last week, Jesus rebuked the Pharisees for keeping some people away from table fellowship.  His disciples were eating without washing their hands.  Jesus said that it is what comes from within that defiles a person, not these outside rituals.  Now this woman is showing us what that means for her to be included in table fellowship.  She asks for healing for her daughter.  She asks because she knows her scriptures.  She knows that God has chosen outsiders all through the Bible to be included.  Barren women, thought to be irrelevant, bear children who change the course of history.  A younger sibling seizes the birthright.  A favorite younger son is cast into slavery only to rise to serve the Pharaoh.  Ruth, from Moab, a country hostile to Israel, has a book all to herself in the Hebrew Bible, and becomes the great-grandmother of King David.  Rahab the Canaanite, helped Joshua defeat Jericho, and the walls came a tumblin’ down.  This woman knows her stories and she has identified with these foreigners in the stories.  She knows the laws to treat foreigners as neighbors, with compassion, for the Israelites were once foreigners everywhere they went. 

Jesus has continued this inclusion—healed the Gerasene demoniac, healed a woman with a hemorrhage, raising a dead little girl, and cleansed lepers, all in the first few chapters of the book of Mark.  Since he just told the Pharisees that these outside factors don’t matter, now we get an illustration of what that looks like.  An outsider, a Syrophonecian woman, asks for assistance for her daughter—healing.  Jesus says no, as would be expected, because of cleanliness laws and the idea there isn’t enough for everyone. Whether Jesus really felt that way or was expressing the ideas of those around him or was testing us or testing the woman, it was first of all untrue about the resources, love, and compassion of God and secondly, insulting, a slur that was completely unnecessary.  Jesus tells her she’s not his priority, there is not enough for her, and calls her, her daughter, and her people dogs. 

This woman models for us what it means to stand with dignity without escalating.  She truly follows Jesus’ way of turning the other cheek, walking the extra mile.  She stood there with compassion for him, which she didn’t need to do.  She didn’t escalate, but she made Jesus realize that he crossed a line.  He bore false witness when he said that God didn’t have enough for her.  She knew from the scriptures there was enough love and healing to go around.  She knew from Jesus’ own ministry that she wasn’t outside the scope of God’s care.  And she knew that Jesus was her best last chance for healing for her daughter.  For the sake of her daughter, she took that insult, and speaks to us through time about the inclusive nature of the welcome table.  She spoke the Gospel in the face of insult, racism, persecution.  Even the dogs have a place in the Kingdom of God, in the economy of God’s grace and love and healing and nourishment.  Even a scrap of what God has to offer is good enough for me.  She knew what God was capable of and she believed and she went for it and no human insult or barrier would stand in her way.

This woman speaks to us through time about the welcome table, and its expansiveness.  She says to us that when someone dehumanizes us, calls us a name or a slur, tries to deny our humanity by denying us basic human rights, we can stand up and claim our humanity, our rightful place to be treated as human.  Those hurtful words are not from God, who always welcomes us to the table of plenty.

This woman speaks to us through time about seeing the value in those different from us.  We live so divided from each other.  Politicians try to convince us that people with different views are less than human, that immigrants are not human, that poor people are less than human, that children and the elderly don’t matter, that Muslims or Sihks or Hindus are not fully human.  The truth is we are all children of the Most High and there is enough room at the welcome table for everyone.  When we eat together we build relationship and we see that we have so much in common, that we need each other, that we love each other and we stop hurting each other.

In this Gospel, Jesus recognizes faith when he sees it, and he grants this woman’s prayer.  In fact, Jesus grants the prayers of the Gentiles, our prayers (because we are Gentiles) that we would taste the abundance of what God has to offer.  In this Gospel, God is hearing all the prayers and needs of God’s creation.

Then there is this Gentile who is deaf.  He has friends who act in faith, by bringing him to Jesus.  Jesus says to his ears, “Be opened.” That is Jesus’ prayers for those who try to limit table fellowship.  Isn’t that Jesus’ prayer for us, too—be opened?  What is closing us off?  What is keeping us from hearing each other?  What is keeping us from seeing each other?  What is keeping us from communicating with each other?  What is keeping us from touching each other?  What is keeping us from feeding each other, inviting each other, walking right up to each other?   Why are we closed?  We don’t have to stay that way. 

So Jesus calls us to faith, like the faith of these friends who want healing for this man or this Syrophoncian woman who wants healing for her daughter.  Jesus invites us to approach him and ask him and open ourselves to relationship.  It is in the relationship, the love that we are saved, that we find safety, that we find salve, healing, salvation.  Jesus walked right up to us.  Maybe we didn’t want him to truly see all that we’ve done or haven’t done.  Maybe we didn’t really want him to know our selfish thoughts.  But he walked up to us anyway.  He commanded us to be opened.  He commanded us to be opened to him and his love.  He commanded us to be open to each other, even when that other person doesn’t look like us, dress like us, smell like us.  And he commanded us to respond to God’s love, by taking loving actions toward those around us, meeting their needs.

As a result, we are introduced to God and those around us are introduced to God.  That’s what is says in Isaiah, “Here is your God!”  Here is your God, all who have trouble walking, seeing, talking, hearing!  “Here is your God” all you thirsty, isolated people, animals and places.  “Here is your God!” you poor, who have nowhere to lay your heads.  “Here is your God,” you rich who are quick to call your lawyers.  Here is your God, showing you what it means to love your neighbors far and near.  Here is your God, all those who think you are better than others.  Here is your God, all you who show favoritism.  Here is your God all you who give, hoping to get something in return.  Here is your God all those who wish someone else well, but refuse to share your bread.  Here is your God, you dogs, you Gentiles, you outsiders.  Here is your God all you interrupting mothers, demanding our time.  Here is your God, all you who make mistakes and create divisions.  Here is your God, you pushy friends with all the answers.  Here is your God, you children of God. God is here!  God is near!  God is faithful!  God is powerful.

God is powerful to stand against our sins, our deafness, and all that we do that divides.  God is powerful to show mercy, forgive us, and help us live in a new way.  God is powerful to save us, heal us, and lead us toward God’s vision that is coming into this world, the Kingdom of God, justice, bread, community, love.  So we end with astonishment, awe, at God’s power and God’s love.  We stand speechless before God’s mercy, generosity, and healing.

September 1, 2024

 When I was growing up, we were fortunate to live only 20 minutes away from both sets of grandparents. Four kids meant a lot of mouths to feed and gas prices were low, so almost once a week we went to one grandparents or the other for dinner. At Grandma Nana’s (named so because I couldn’t say grandma as a baby, but only nana) I remember she would call, “Go wash your hands for dinner!” That meant everyone lining up at the one bathroom in the house and washing our hands before we could find our place at the kids’ table to eat. She had a mirror there you could make faces at while you waited your turn to wash.  At Grandma V’s house, (so named because no one wanted to have to say Grandma Vorderstrasse, even though it was all our last names) the ritual was praying before our meals, “Come Lord Jesus, be our guest, and let thy gifts to us be blessed.” It sounded a little to me like, “give us more gifts,” but that was the prayer we said. At home, we didn’t do either of these two things, but we did have our own rituals such as where we sat at the table and having to take three bites and having the timer set for 5 minutes if we were not taking our bites. These rules and rituals were to help us know what to expect. They helped prepare us to eat together in community, in family, not to waste food, to get along with each other, to have good health in our bodies, and to remember our food comes from God who we remember and thank.

At our house, now, our routines are changing due to a child in our midst. We still haven’t got our family meal ritual together—we eat at different times. But we are getting the bedtime ritual down pat. It helps our son know what to expect. It helps prepare him for healthy sleep. When he sleeps, we all sleep, which is good and very good.

So the Israelites, too, needed rules and rituals to help them interact together in community, to be healthy and get along and respect each other, and to know what to expect. So God gave them the commandments. And we, too, in society and in church need rules and traditions to help us on our spiritual path and to progress in our relationships. In church, we have many of these rituals. We are so attuned to say “And also with you” when the pastor says, “The Lord be with you” that we even say it when someone says, “May the force be with you.” We are ready to say the Lord’s Prayer, when the pastor says, “God remember us in your Kingdom and teach us to pray.” Or we are ready to respond, “Thanks be to God” when the reader says, “Word of God, word of life.” We are ready to hear the scriptures having sung a hymn in praise to God. We are ready to go to communion, having heard a word of hope. We are ready to go and be the good news to someone in need having gathered in community to worship God.

Our way of worshipping is helpful to us in many ways. Like dinner or bedtime rituals there is no one right way of doing it. We use words from scripture in our worship and we use a formula that makes sense to many of us. And there are other, completely legitimate and wonderful ways to worship God, different words we could use and different order to the elements of worship. And our way of Lutheran worship allows for much flexibility and openness to different options in worship. What matters most is not the words we say, but where our heart is and what our motivations are. What is behind the actions we do and the words we say. Do we worship this way to serve ourselves? Are we flexible enough to be relevant to the world we live in? Do we try to help others understand why we do what we do? Do we leave room for the Holy Spirit in, with, and under our rules and traditions so She can teach us new ways to interact with God that help us grow spiritually?

And one of the biggest questions of all is this: Do we worship the rules so that they cannot be questioned? Or are we willing to examine our traditions to make sure they are still doing what they were intended to do, which is to help us move along a spiritual path toward greater love?

Jesus cautioned us toward worshiping the rules. He said the rule and the tradition is not the thing. They are meant to point to God. He was constantly breaking rules. He picked grain and healed people on the Sabbath. He touched lepers. He talked to prostitutes. And he didn’t wash his hands before dinner, which would have been ok with grandma V., as long as he prayed, but not ok with grandma nana and not ok with the Jewish people and probably not ok with many of us here today. And of course don’t forget that God’s rules were used against him at his trial and because he didn’t deny saying he was God’s Son, he was crucified.

We all know the rules aren’t perfect. Innocent people get sent to jail. People find loopholes in the rules and exploit them, like with the Adjustable Rate Mortgages. The banks were following the rules, but that didn’t mean they were doing the right thing. We often interpret the rules in ways that benefit us. We use the rules to get more power for ourselves or our group and to take that power away from everyone else. Is anyone else as glad as I am that this election will be over soon? Is anyone else as disgusted as I am that both parties are using and misusing power so blatantly? What a waste of time!

In the midst of all this vying for power, the apostle James asks us to hold up a mirror. He asks us to reflect on ourselves and to stop and take a good long look at ourselves and the rules and traditions we use. It is a good thing to do individually. It is a good thing to do as a community.   Rather than just go through the motions of our laws and traditions, we should look at them. We should assess whether they are accomplishing the work of God. Are they spreading God’s love? Are they helping people on their spiritual journey? Do we do them just because that’s what we’re used to? Do these laws and traditions draw people together into deeper relationship with each other and with God? Do they drive a wedge between people and show who is in and who is out and become ways of excluding people who aren’t like us?

When we look in the mirror, the world tells us not to like who we see. They tell us that we need something to make us likeable-whether it is a new truck or a certain brand of paper towel or a certain food. They promote the tradition of “Buy more stuff until you feel better” because it benefits them. They sell more stuff because of our fear that we aren’t good enough without this that or the other.

God tells us that we are created good and that we are beloved. When we look in the mirror we should see a beloved child of God. We start from a place of love and hope. God also gives us an honest assessment that we are afraid, that we are self serving, that we bend the rules to benefit ourselves, that we compare ourselves to other people. God doesn’t want that for us because it isn’t good for us and it isn’t good for others. So God offers us a better way. It is a way that we can reach for but never fully attain. It is our spiritual path to do God’s word and not just pay it lip service. We all sin and fall short of the glory of God meaning that we are unable to follow God’s commandments. But that doesn’t mean we give up. We want to serve. We want to try to follow God’s rules and commandments so that we can live long in the land and so that we and others can have enough, life abundant. Widows and orphans are still relying on us to be God’s hands and feet helping them. The world is hungry for justice and compassion and hope that God brings through us living that word. God’s rules help us to act justly so that people are fed and clothed and relationships are built.

When we look in the mirror God asks us to see Jesus within us. God wants us to treat that person we see in the mirror as we would treat Jesus. God wants us to have love and compassion for ourselves. God asks us to see the holy within us. God asks us to see Jesus in the eyes of all we meet—all our brothers and sisters, too. When we see Jesus there, we don’t see a rival to compete with. We see a sibling we love and who loves us. We see someone we want to empower rather than to take advantage of. We aren’t to judge that person, but to have a relationship with them.

When we see Jesus in that mirror, we see ourselves like God sees us. We get credit for Jesus’ perfection. God sees the family resemblance. And when we see Jesus reflected back in our neighbor’s eye, in our enemy’s eye, our hearts soften in love.

Jesus takes our place in that mirror and instead of our failures that we would normally see when we look at ourselves, we see what can happen when God works through our hands and feet to help others. Instead of judgment of our shortcomings, we find forgiveness from God and from ourselves. Instead of hatred for ourselves or others, we see our divisions going away. Instead of despair at our inability to do anything about our shortcomings, we get a picture of what could be. Instead of being stuck and hopeless, we get imagination to build a more just and loving future. Instead of seeing rules and traditions to cling to, we see the life and hope the rules point to. When we look in that mirror and truly self-reflect, we find hope, not just for ourselves, but for others. When we become doers of the word, we share that hope with others.