January 31, 2016

Gospel: Luke 4:21-30 

1^st Reading: Jeremiah 1:4-10

2^nd Reading: 1 Corinthians 13:1-13

King's Cupboard Food Pantry is a well-stocked, organized place for our neighbors in need to get food. There are plenty of desserts and meats, a good selection of produce and canned goods and other items. There is always plenty of food. At the dessert table, some big fancy desserts are even held in the kitchen until later in the afternoon, so that there is an even distribution through the day of different kinds of desserts. And that is why it is so hard for me to understand why people come and line up for the pantry. These days, the line might start at 11 or 12, with the pantry open at 3. On nicer summer days, the line might start at 9:30 or 10, with little or no benefit to coming early and waiting. But the clients who come, have very strong feelings about it. They invest their time in waiting, so woe to the one who tries to cut in line.

Some try to cut, with a language barrier making it difficult to explain the rules. Some children cut with the excuse that they innocent and don't know any better. Others cut and laugh it off, as if it doesn't matter. There have been times that we've thought it might come to a fist-fight and many times we've discussed strategies such as having a lottery system in which clients pick a random number that places them in that position in the line, so they wouldn't necessarily go first if they arrived first, so they have no incentive to come so early. So far we have dismissed that plan, afraid of the chaos and mutiny it might cause.

All of this is leading to Jesus' reading of the Bible in the synagogue in his hometown of Nazareth. People are feeling generally good about this. “All spoke well of him and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his mouth.” They like Jesus. They like what he has to say. But for Jesus, he seems to hear or see something there that we may have missed. Maybe it was a look they gave him, or maybe it was their tone of voice. When they say, “Isn't this Joseph's son?” what does Jesus hear? Does he hear, “Isn't this Joseph's son, who does he think he is?” Maybe he hears, “Isn't this Joseph's son who owes us something because we are close to him and related to him?” 

Jesus seems to hear that they want something from him. “Doubtless you will quote me this parable 'Doctor, cure yourself.'” I'm not exactly sure what this means, but it does remind me of the comments when Jesus was on the cross, “If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself.” Now that Jesus has this power—the power to heal, to feed, to share words that inspire—people are asking who is this power for? When he was in the wilderness, he was tempted to use it for his own gain, to get God's attention, to acquire land and kingdoms, to feed himself. This is like a continuation of the temptations. Now that you have these powers, doctor, use them to cure yourself, first. Make your life easy. Make yourself great. And while you're at it, throw some of that our direction.

Jesus' friends and family and next door neighbors want to be first in line. They think they are entitled to be first in line, because they know him or are related to him. They think Jesus owes them or that they own him, that he is theirs to heal them and feed them and do their bidding.

Sometimes we feel entitled to Jesus and try to keep him for ourselves, too. Sometimes we think we've been waiting in line the longest, attended church so faithfully, fed the poor and volunteered so well, he should be ours, do things the way we want him to, cater to us. I remember one time my grandma talking about a young man who had died in a car accident. She said, “And he was such a fine Christian boy!” We all bit our tongues to try to be polite, but we knew that being Christian doesn't mean your life is any easier, or that your life means more than someone else's, or that you have any special protection. Being Christian doesn't put us at the front of the line. It doesn't mean we own Jesus or that he owes us healing or anything else. He isn't our tool to use for those we find deserving.

The widows in Israel at the time of the famine, might be assumed to be at the front of the line. They were God's chosen people, blessed and faithful. But there is no story of Elijah going to them. Jesus points out that Elijah went, instead, to a foreigner, a Gentile. It was she who prepared her last bit of flour for him and because of her generosity, her flour jar did not give out until after the famine was over. 

The lepers in Israel would probably think they would be first in line for God to heal them, because of their special relationship with God. Instead, God sent Elisha to someone who wasn't even in line at all, a Syrian named Naaman, another Gentile.

Jesus is saying to all those who think they are first in line, that they are entitled to a special life, to have a monopoly on healing and the power and blessing of God, that God has other plans in mind. Maybe it is that the ones we least expect it will be more receptive to God's blessing, or that there are people in more need than these people from Nazareth, or that there will be no special treatment, they will all be given a random number in line, but I don't think it is just random. Again and again, God chooses the ones at the back of the line, the one who didn't even know there was a line. There is Abraham from long ago, who is childless and old, who God promises will be the father of many nations. There is Mary chosen to bear God's son, a young woman, poor and humble. There is the Centurion, a Gentile, whose daughter Jesus brings back to life. There is the donkey Jesus rides upon on palm Sunday, not much of a noble steed. There is the criminal crucified next to Jesus who hears the words, “Today, you will be with me in paradise.” 

I went to a lunch put on by Lutheran Community Services about how our congregations can help settle Syrian refugees. One pastor shared this story from when his church helped out a refugee family last year. One of the members of his congregation had shared with a friend what the congregation was doing. The friend said, “That is so nice of you to help settle a Christian from the Middle East. Have they joined your church, yet?” The church member said, “Oh, no. This is a Muslim family. We have helped them connect with the local mosque so they can worship God with their community.” The friend said, “Why would your church help them if they aren't Christian?” The church member simply said, “Because they are in need.” Jesus came to help the ones in need. We are here to help those in need, not to make sure we and those who are most like us get first in line.

For some, who see themselves as being first in line, this can cause some anger, like it did Jesus' family and friend in Nazareth. “Why have I been wasting my time in this line? I have been waiting so long! I deserve more! Why don't we do things the way I like them to be done in this church—I give more money, I volunteer more! I've been part of this church longer.” 

Maybe we see ourselves as being in a line, some being closer or further away in relationship to God. But I think God sees us more as a family, a group of people all related to one another, all bearing the light of Christ to one another. That's where the reading from 1 Corinthians comes in. It is all about love. God is love. We are here to love one another. Like the song says, “They'll know we are Christians by our love.”

This reading is heard most often at weddings, but it is not about erotic love. It is about agape love. Agape is about self-sacrificing love, giving something up for someone else. It is about an active love that doesn't expect anything in return. It seeks the best for the other person. In fact, we are all called in our baptism, like the prophet Jeremiah is called in the Old Testament reading this morning. We are all named and claimed by God in our baptism, fully known and given the fullness of agape love. And we are called, not to be first in line, but to minister to all God's people, all God's creation, which is a bigger group than we ever thought. And it isn't just to love when things are easy. Paul writes this letter to the church in Corinth because they are arguing. The call to agape love extends even to our enemies, especially to those we can't get along with or understand. Maybe our first reaction to our call from God, like Jeremiah is to run the other way, to make up excuses, to downplay our gifts. But the truth is, God has continued to love us, even when we draw lines, even when we run away, even when we are combative and divisive. And it isn't by our own power that we love, God is doing it through us. It is the power of God's love that will reach our hearts and soften them until we can see the whole family of God's creation as being related to us. God will surprise us with the agape love that will pour out of us when we recognize in ourselves someone unworthy of that sacrifice that Jesus made, yet a recipient of God's grace all the same, and when we can be open to God sharing that agape love with others who are unworthy, yet also in great need.

Sterling often asks me, “Mom, why do you love me?” I think he mostly wants to hear again how much I do love him. I can't seem to give him a satisfactory answer. Sometimes I say, “Because you're my son” or “Because you're lovable.” Sometimes he asks me, “Why do you love everybody in the whole world?” That is a baffling question to me. Sometimes I say in answer to that, “Well, I try to love everybody, but I don't always succeed.” He doesn't like that answer. Sometimes I say, “I love them because they are all God's children.” Maybe he's just trying to throw a million questions at me and stump me, but he's asked this so many times, it makes me think. How can I be loving to everybody in the whole world? Can God work through me to see value in each person, to try to connect with each person, to try to be a loving shoulder to cry on or someone you can bounce ideas off of and I'll try to be honest and kind. Even if I don't succeed, it is an ideal to work toward. It is worth opening ourselves to God's love and rather than bottling it up and giving it only to those we think deserve it or who we know, but to trust that it will abide and there will be enough so that if we let it flow through us, it could mean a more loving world, and more people will know the love of God face to face.

January 24, 2016

Gospel: Luke 4:14-21 

1^st Reading: Nehemiah 8:1-3, 5-6, 8-10

2^nd Reading: 1 Corinthians 12:12-31a

Earlier this month when we had the ice storm, we lost power in our home for about 5 hours. Nick was doing some dinner preparation about 4:30 in the afternoon and suddenly the lights went out. We gathered our candles and our flashlights. We had one or two working flashlights, so I changed the batteries in the remaining two flashlights. Then Sterling and I spent about the next hour cuddled under a blanket on the couch reading by flashlight while we waited to see if the lights would come back on or not in time to finish dinner. We could see on our smartphones when the utility company thought power would be restored, but that time kept getting later and later, until we finally decided to venture out in the snow and go out to dinner.

This was fascinating to Sterling. Until then, he had taken electricity for granted. Now he wanted to know what ran on batteries and what was connected to the power grid. We tested our ceiling fan probably a dozen times so he could see that it wouldn't turn on. He went to bed that night with two lights that ran on batteries, a toy turtle he has that plays music and a flashlight. Even now that his nightlight is working, he still keeps those other two nearby, maybe as security in his mind in case the power goes out again. It was at that moment when the power went out that he started being more curious about everything and asking so many questions about how things work and why.

Probably many of us take it for granted things like electricity and power and what makes things work. And many of us who have been part of this church for a long time have our ideas of how things get done and why they are the way they are. That's why it is so nice to have new people come along now and then and ask why and how so we can evaluate whether that is the best way and how to have enough flashlights full of batteries just in case, a backup plan for when the usual patterns of power don't work or aren't serving the people they are supposed to.

In the Old Testament Reading for this morning, it would have been a new concept for words written in a book or scroll to have power, but clearly they do. They have the power to command people's attention. They have the power to move people to strong emotion. And you get the feeling that things are going to change, that people will be motivated to act because of these words. It isn't just the words, but that they come from God, who knows them completely. They hear their lives reflected in what they hear read and interpreted. They find themselves convicted by words of truth. They know things are not working well. They are ready to listen to another way. And they hear a word of love, joy, and forgiveness that helps them let go of how things have been and want to start a new way. And they hear a word of celebration and sharing.

In Paul's letter to the Corinthians this morning, there is power in diversity. It is like the different power sources in our home, the power grid and the battery powered flashlights and the candles. Together all these power sources come together to give us light. Maybe they seem redundant most of the time and maybe they clutter up the house and are inefficient, but they are important just the same and essential when the time comes that one source fails.

This is hard for humans sometimes. We look for friends who think the same way we do. We watch news that confirms our own point of view. We like the comfort of our routine. We think we like conformity. It is just easier if people fit a certain kind of mold. That's the way we run our factories, to make thousands and thousands of exactly the same item. That is efficiency. 

That is the way we like to run our ecology, too. One example I learned about this summer is about people's lawns. I know this can be a sensitive subject, but a lot of people have this view that their lawn should be uniform. It should be one kind of grass, even in color and mowed to just the right height. Well nature, AKA God, made nature love diversity. As soon as you plant that uniform lawn, nature, or God is moving in with other plants that want to live there, too. And there is good reason this happens. That is because if something happens to the uniform lawn that is systemic, not just a bug eating a blade of grass or you putting on too much fertilizer or herbicide on one little spot, the whole thing is going to fail. Having a diversity of plants in your lawn, means better survival rate. I was glad to know that my lawn is indeed considered a lawn. It has clover, it has crab grass, it has dandelions and faux dandelions that I try to remove, it has these cute little flowers that are light blue and few that are salmon colored and it has moss. When the dry summers come, the grass gets brown, but the clover looks really good. The clover doesn't grow as high as the blades of grass so it doesn't look as bad if I don't mow for a long time. And the clover supplies nutrients to the soil like nitrogen that is good for the grass and soil. It is good to have diversity, according to God who set up all of nature, even if it drives humans crazy. There is power in diversity because each has its own gifts. Even if two people have the same gift, if one fails or gets sick, another can come fill in and the body of Christ continues to work and serve. The body of Christ is powerful because of the diversity and redundancy, the fact that several people can do the same job in different ways.

So now we come to the Gospel. In the Gospel of John, Jesus' first act after calling his disciples is changing the water into wine at the wedding at Cana that we talked about last week. Each Gospel writer has their own perspective about who they think Jesus is and part of the way they reveal their perspective is in Jesus' first act in each of their Gospels. For Luke, this is Jesus' first act after being baptized and given the Holy Spirit and coming back from being tempted in the wilderness. So here he is. This isn't quite as dramatic as in the Gospel of John. Jesus goes home to Nazareth. He reads from a scroll in the synagogue, like he has probably done many times before. He is in the presence of his friends and family, the people he grew up with. He is getting some positive feedback, some interest, some good reviews—I'd call it cautiously optimistic.

So this is what Jesus chooses to read after being filled by the power of the Holy Spirit. “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor.” This is what Jesus chooses to read, his mission statement, his billboard, his bumper sticker. I hope it sounds somewhat familiar. It sounds very similar to his mother's magnificat that she sang with her cousin Elizabeth before Jesus was born. “You have cast the mighty down from their thrones and uplifted the humble of heart, you have filled the hungry with wondrous things. How you favored the weak and lowly ones.” Jesus' first song of his ministry is the song of his mother, but also his father. This is God's song that God sang through the prophets way back when. Jesus is reading from the Prophet Isaiah. He is aligning himself with a person and a story from a long time ago, but also the power of God that has always been in the world. The people in the congregation listening to Jesus would have heard this before. They knew about their history of God's Spirit leading them through the desert to freedom from slavery to the Egyptians. They had experienced God bringing them out of exile in Babylon. They may have had mixed emotions, though, when they heard this because they were currently under Roman occupation and oppression. They looked around at their situation and felt the need to again be freed.

But then Jesus said these words, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.” Jesus is reading it first person. He is claiming that he is the one the Spirit has empowered to do all these things. He's basically saying that he's the one that will cure the blind and free the captive and make all these good things happen. We'll see next week that his family and hometown buddies don't respond well to this statement. Maybe they think he's arrogant. Maybe bragging. Maybe they felt sorry for him that he was so naive as to think it would be so simple. But we know he does have the power and he does carry through both in his ministry and in his sacrifice, even if it isn't the way people expected it to happen.

So now we are the body of Christ, all of us together, and aren't we filled with the power of the Holy Spirit, too? Aren't we empowered by God? Isn't God working through us to release the captives, heal the blind, heal this earth, be united in love? Are we really moved or changed or empowered by hearing the hope and possibility in God's word, the scriptures read to us this morning? How would we do things differently if we really did let these words of God touch our hearts or if we really felt empowered and filled by the Holy Spirit? 

We often see our power as limited, likely to flicker at any time or growing dim. Sometimes we spend so much energy trying to make sure the lights stay on that we forget the share the light with others or forget that our power supply is unlimited because it is from the Holy Spirit. What might we do differently if we really lived by the Power of the Holy Spirit? How can we let the Spirit bring us joy? What would the world look like if we recognized that we run on Spirit Power? God is powerful and active and will transform our world through us and despite us, bringing release to the captives, recovery of sight to the blind, and Jubilee for all of us, ready or not.

Nick and I crawled into bed about 10 pm that night that the power went out, for warmth as much as anything. We lay there talking about our day for a moment or two. Suddenly, the lights in our room came back on again. God's power can be surprising and unexpected. Ready or not, God's light is shining for all who have experienced darkness.

January 17, 2016

Gospel: John 2:1-11 

1^st Reading: Isaiah 62:1-5 

2^nd Reading: 1 Corinthians 12:1-11

I hope no one is alarmed by this revelation: I am not a big fan of wine. So 180 gallons of it doesn't excite me as much as it might some people. Now if the story was changing water into beer, I could probably get behind that, although that is a lot of beer to drink before it goes flat. 

Christians have argued about whether one can drink alcohol and be a Christian, and I have to refer to this scripture. Jesus changed water into wine—it can't be all bad. It doesn't say here that he drank any of it, but he certainly did at the last supper. Some folks have been concerned enough to ask me whether wine or beer could be brought into the sanctuary for fundraising events, and I appreciate being asked. I have to reply that we have wine in the sanctuary every week for Holy Communion. There is a difference to me, though, between enjoying ourselves and throwing a big drunken party and there may be a time and place for each. Some have difficulty setting that line for themselves, so we offer the grape juice as well for Communion. And I suppose we might have to ask someone to leave if they got out of control for a fundraising event. But a little drinking doesn't bother me. I don't mind drinking and have been known to have a beer from time to time, although I don't tend to drink with my flock because I don't want to be impaired at work and I don't drink and drive, even one beer. I also appreciate and have great respect for those who have recognized their addiction and taken steps to avoid alcohol, knowing how it can destroy them and their relationships. I do think this Gospel story shows that God isn't made of stone or all serious, but someone who appreciates a celebration and brings people together in praise and thanksgiving and new life. 

This is Jesus' first miracle in the Gospel of John—apparently there are 7, a number meaning wholeness. It seems important that this first miracle doesn't heal anyone or feed anyone. Maybe the family is poor and that is why they ran out of wine. Certainly Jesus saves them from embarrassment by providing not just wine, but good wine. This gift of wine ensures the celebration goes on—when the wine runs out, that's when everyone goes home. Jesus makes sure that they stay and build relationships together. When people apologize for being late to church, I always say, “You made it for the most important part, Holy Communion.” They made it to God's table, and to me that is the central event of Sunday morning.

I don't think this miracle was a once and for all kind of thing—a one time event a long time ago. It is a miracle that I have seen repeated many times in my life. There is nothing wrong with water. It is refreshing. It is cleansing. It is necessary for life. It is also without taste or color. It is very basic. Many times the recipe calls for water. I hope we drink it more than we drink anything else. We'd be healthier if we did. Yet, sometimes the occasion calls for something a little more festive.

I heard a wonderful sermon many years ago at a wedding about God turning the water of our lives and relationships from the odorless, colorless, plainness of water, into something beautiful and colorful and celebratory of marriage. This couple was very sweet. The woman had come from Burundi in Africa. She had experienced horrors of war and hunger. The man had an earlier failed marriage. They were bringing the water of their lives together, filling all the stone water jars with the water to the brim and trusting that Jesus would make something of it that would be beautiful, something to celebrate and bind them closer in relationship. It isn't that this couple wouldn't have to work at their relationship and Jesus would do all the work, but that each one would contribute and trust and work together and that Jesus would change their water into wine.

Those of us who have been married a long time—yes I'm counting my 20 years—don't have stars in our eyes anymore. We are looking with eyes wide open at all these jars, either drained empty or leaking and maybe it seems impossible that Jesus would be able to do anything about it. When we know what to expect year after year, it is hard to be ready for a miracle, for anything new at all. I don't think this analogy of water into wine is only for newlyweds. There is still a chance for closeness and romance and turning toward each other again. There is still a chance to learn to trust again, to learn to love again, for the blah water to become the deep sweet red of wine. Some encounter it simply by surprise, turning toward each other during a crisis or pain. Some attend a workshop together to strengthen their marriage. Some see a counsellor. Some read a book together. One of my favorites is “The Seven Principles for Making Marriage Work.” It is a very realistic way of looking at marriage. It isn't called “The Seven Principles for Making Marriage Fun,” but it does offer some steps to turn back toward each other even after a long period of growing apart. Jesus is still turning our water into wine.

We celebrate Martin Luther King Day tomorrow. Could we consider the Civil Rights Movement as God working through Brother Martin to make wine into water? This is a whole large group of people who were told they could have water and maybe even stagnant water, but no right to live full lives, never to taste the good wine of celebration and relationship. But these activists were unwilling to accept life as second-class citizens, and their actions helped make the water of our nation more into wine, although that transformation is still occurring as we struggle as a nation about how we treat people with darker skin color.

We will be talking briefly on the 31^st at our Annual Meeting about the use of our church property. We have this land that has been like water to us. You've changed it into wine a couple of times. One was when you put in the parking lot and made it safer and easier to get in and out of and more beautiful. The other was when you sold the property down below and were able to pay off some bills. Now those streets are full of happy children and families making a life for themselves. Yet there is more we can do to make wine out of water. I explored community gardens on my sabbatical. Is there a way to grow food on this land to feed hungry people? There are so many possibilities of what we can do with this beautiful gift that God has given us.

Jesus whole ministry was one of changing water into wine. This miracle really indicates the kind of Messiah he will be. In this miracle, he took the stone vessels of purification that were used to wash people and make them holy enough to be in God's presence or to be in community. He took the ritual washing vessels and filled them with wine. It would be like filling the baptismal font with wine. Probably if that happened here we would be shocked. Some might be pretty offended. Jesus was never afraid to offend people's sense of what was religiously proper. He healed on the Sabbath. He touched lepers and sick people. He overturned the tables of the money changers. He told off men of great religious power. If there is something we are holding closer to our hearts than God, something we see as sacred, Jesus destroys it—it doesn't belong there. We don't need any holy water to be in God's presence. We can't let our human rules keep us from bringing healing and hope to people in despair. His use of the water for purification also shows us that it isn't our rituals that cleanse us, but the blood of Christ. 

Many of our human rules keep us from enjoying the wine. Some of us have strong feelings about regularly using a screen. That isn't holy. That is for those other churches. However, we had a member here for a couple of years who was deaf. A deaf person sings with their hands. But if she is holding a hymnal, she won't be able to sing. What might it have meant to her to be able to have her hands free to be able sing in sign language as she looked at the words up on the screen? How much paper could we save if we didn't have to have so many words in the bulletin and could put them up where people could see them? How would it be to look up and out while in worship instead of in and down? What is sacred is not how we've always done things, but making Jesus' love more accessible to people, bringing real benefit and life to others. Certainly there were some people offended at Jesus' actions in the Gospel. When we are offended do we wonder what is wrong with the person who offended us, or do we look within to find out what it is we hold closest to our hearts and why do we feel that way? Is there room for Jesus amongst all the clutter of our rituals and traditions?

Jesus isn't waiting to see. He's here offending us, partying down with the wedding guests and he's saying to join him in the celebration of all of life, join him in relationship with sinners of all kinds, loosen up, smile, give thanks. 

In his death on the cross, Jesus poured out his blood of salvation that we drink this morning. He didn't do that to make us miserable and always focused on his suffering. The reason I know that is that his Disciples came to him after he had been raised and they felt terrible. He said that he did what he did to give us life and the best way for us to thank him was to share that life with others no matter who is offended.

Turning water into wine isn't simply a matter of taking lemons and making lemon aid. Here in Holy Communion we take the wine, the blood of Jesus. The people of Israel didn't know a whole lot about anatomy and the science of how the body worked, but they did know that blood is life. Jesus poured himself out for us, to give us abundant life now and eternal life. Jesus' miracles are about the abundance of life, the sharing of life, the celebration of life, and so that miracle goes on and on.

January 10, 2016

Gospel: Luke 3:15-17 1^st Reading: Isaiah 43:1-7

2^nd Reading: Acts 8:14-17

His parents and grandparents were filled with expectation and his cousins were questioning in their hearts concerning Miles. His brother and sister were questioning who he would be in this new family that was forming. Would he be the peacemaker or the serious one, would he be the trouble-maker or the class clown? Would he be studious or lazy or observant? Would he be quiet or talkative? 

And his brothers and sisters in Christ were gathered round, wondering who he would be for the family of God, for the family of believers. Would he be one to run up quickly to the children's message or hang behind? Would he like to bring food for hungry neighbors or help them carry the donations to the car? Would he serve on council or visit those in nursing homes? Would he sing the hymns loudly or quietly ponder their meaning? Would he like the way things had always been done or would he suggest creative adjustments to make worship more meaningful for a new generation? Would he hear the voice of God clearly or search for the still small voice directing him in his choices?

Maybe Miles, too, in his own way wonders about us. “Who are all these people and why are they all looking at me? What is the meaning of all this singing? Why am I not running all over the place with my cousins, right now? Why do we have to be quiet? Are these people going to be helpful to me or make my life harder? What is the meaning of these banners and these carvings? What are these people going to do to me? Why do I keep hearing my name?”

All these questions and all this uncertainty could cause any of us some anxiety. Miles' parents are soothing him. They hold him close so he won't be afraid. The scriptures are soothing us, too. They tell us not to be afraid so we can calmly hear the rest of the story. But also I think all the possibilities open before us create some excitement and anticipation of all the wonderful things God could do through Miles or any of us to whom God is giving new life. 

When trying to figure out who any of us is, we can start with an origin story. We might tell the story of the day someone was born, or a story about a parent or a grandparent. These scriptures this morning go back to the very beginning. They remind us of God's faithfulness and God's role as the one who created and loves us and protects us. Such a tender lullaby of comfort and love we find in Isaiah! It is very reassuring. If we are to know who we are, it is important to know who is the one who made us and gives our lives meaning.

However, the scriptures don't stop at the beginning. They don't gloss over the fact that life will be hard. We will pass through the waters. We will encounter fire and flame. We will have troubles. But that won't be what defines us or destroys us, and we'll never be alone when we face hardships. 

Miles, too, has no promise of an easy life. He will face fire and rain. He will face heartaches and ailments. He will face disappointments. Even his community of faith will disappoint him and fail him. However, this won't be what defines Miles. He will have many joys in his life and much to celebrate. No matter what happens, he will always belong to God, having been created by God, formed by God, called by God, redeemed by God, and accompanied by God. He will never be alone, because has a loving family, he has a family of faith charged with raising him to know who God is and who he is, and because he now has the whole history of people of faith to look to for inspiration and guidance when he feels lost, real examples of people who tried and failed but who are also loved and claimed by God. 

We use water and flame at the baptismal service, elements mentioned in the scriptures today. Water sprinkled on Miles is a tangible sign of all the overwhelming waters he will face, the times he will feel he is drowning and not know what to do. But he will come through these waters like Jesus at his baptism and like Jesus at his death, when he was raised to new life. These waters will also refresh him and clean him and give life to him. He will be given a lit candle, a reminder of the fire of the Holy Spirit that descended upon the heads of the Disciples at Pentecost, but also using the words about letting his light shine. Fire has the power to destroy but also the ability to provide warmth and cook food and provide light to see.

I mention this about the community of faith letting him down, because I think that is part of what is meant by original sin. It isn't that something is wrong with this baby that he has to be cleansed, but that this world is full of problems, full of sin, and he is going to be affected by it. When we let him down, he's going to need to know where he comes from, that he was created God by a loving God. He's going to need to learn about forgiveness—forgiving himself, God's forgiveness, forgiving others. What better place than a community of faith, where we have the example of Jesus forgiving all who betrayed him and one of our main jobs is forgiveness. Some have called the church, the community of faith a “Forgiveness Laboratory.” This isn't a place we presume to be better than others. This is a place where we know and love each other enough that we can admit our mistakes and failures to each other, knowing that we can learn and grow from them and that we will be forgiven and given another chance to try again. And this is a place where we can let someone know if they have upset us or hurt us and where we can let ourselves love and trust again, we can let go and forgive and go on loving. Forgiveness is one of the most powerful tools we cultivate in our community of faith, and one of the most beautiful things we can experience in life whether we are the giver or the receiver.

We wonder at this time who Miles will be, but the truth is, he is now a child of God. God knows and loves him now. Miles doesn't have to wait to know the presence and love of God. That's part of the reason we baptize infants in our church. Miles will likely have many opportunities in his life to seek God or run from God, to accept or reject God. He is simultaneously saint and sinner like all of us. But this day is about God's direction. God is always moving in Miles' direction, always moving toward God's children. Baptism is about God moving toward us, claiming us, reminding us who we belong to, reminding us to move toward each other in love. 

Look around at one another. We might think we know each other pretty well. However, we are given new life each day through our baptism. Each day is another chance to start again. Allow yourselves to wonder who are these people and who are they becoming? Take a look at your own life. Many of us are resigned to the fact that this is who we are and who we will be. This is what our life will be like. Nothing will ever change. We have as much possibility in our lives as a little child, because of God's love. God loves us as we are now. And God wants more for us. God is excited about all the possibilities—the people we will love, the help we will give others, the forgiveness we will find, the truth we will live. Those opportunities and choices are available to us now. New life is waiting for us—the new life that comes for us when we act on our beliefs and the new life that opens up for others when God works through us to make this world more just and loving toward all God's children.

My son has just entered a very curious stage. It isn't asking “Why?” a thousand times to drive us crazy, it is a genuine curiosity about this world and the way things work. I started writing some of them down yesterday. “Will I be taller than daddy when I am big enough to drive? Will our ceiling fan run out of batteries? Was I a baby when I was 2 years old? Why do babies have to grow up? What does the cat's nose smell like?” It went on and on and I was really enjoying it. Children teach us to be curious about what has always been that way and what we take for granted. They make us think about how the world works and why. It won't be long until Miles is articulating all these kind of questions. Questions don't need to make us anxious. Hopefully they bring us closer together as we try to understand ourselves and each other and this world God created. Maybe we, too, can learn to have the curiosity of a child, open to understanding this world but also open to new ways of living that help others to thrive.

God loves us as we are now. Yet God is with us in our becoming and in the coming of the Kingdom. Water washes us and gives us another chance to start again, to choose a path that is more live-giving. And fire burns within us when we see injustice, a powerful force to move us forward until the wheat and chaff are separated, until everything inessential and distracting is dismissed and all that is good and lasting and life-giving is gathered together in God's presence.

December 24, 2015

Gospel: Luke 2:1-20 

1^st Reading: Isaiah 9:2-7

2^nd Reading: Titus 2:11-14

I didn't have much of a tradition of watching Christmas specials when I was a kid, but it was important to Nick, so now we've introduced some of these to our child. One of my favorites is “A Charlie Brown Christmas.” Apparently this show almost never made it to television. It used real children to voice the characters, something that just wasn't done. And it was too depressing! Those are two big reasons I love the show. If you haven't seen it recently, Charlie Brown just isn't in the Christmas spirit. It made it on the air because, the network paid up front for Charles Schulz to make the special, so they went ahead and aired it, even though they didn't like it. Of course, it turned out to be a huge success. It resonated with people.

We all like the story of an underdog, and that's why we like Charlie Brown. He can't do anything right. His friends are always picking on him. His dog is always outshining him. People give him rocks instead of candy to put in his Halloween bucket. His kite inevitably gets eaten by a tree. And he is often scowling or in a bad mood. Charlie Brown makes it ok to be grouchy at the holidays or any time, really. 

But Charlie Brown is also complex. He has his friends over for Thanksgiving dinner and he and Snoopy feed them popcorn and toast, the only two things they know how to cook. He gets picked to direct the Christmas play. He usually gets picked up on the shoulders of his friends and celebrated at the end of the show. He's a regular guy who has a lot of ordinary days, some bad days that he makes worse with his bad attitude, and some moments of pure joy. He is a hero that we can all relate to.

There had been a lot of hubbub the last week or so about Linus in “A Charlie Brown Christmas,” that he is inseparable from his blanket during the whole show. But when he gets to deliver his line in the Christmas play, “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 Christ the Lord,” for this line he drops his blanket. He doesn't need it anymore. Because of the good news of the Christmas angel, he is not afraid. This is truly good news that gives him confidence to deliver his line, but also to stand on his own without his security blanket for a moment. At a moment when most of us would be very afraid, during public speaking, Linus finds himself comforted by the good news of Christmas.

There are several profound moments in this special. The other, more famous one, is the choosing of the Charlie Brown Christmas tree. Charlie Brown is sent to get the Christmas tree for the Christmas play. Why they sent him, I have no idea. You'd think they'd know what to expect from him! Of course he goes and picks the most pathetic, needle dropping tree you've ever seen that bends to the ground when an ornament is placed on it. 

I love the symbolism. Charlie Brown, the underdog, chooses the underdog tree. He sees value in the unloved, the forgotten, the pathetic, and he brings it for the Christmas play, to redeem it and give it a place of importance. 

The one thing I hadn't noticed before when I watched it this year, is that Charlie Brown goes to choose a tree and they are all pink aluminum trees. That's what the Peanuts gang has sent him to get. Charlie Brown and Linus knock on the trees and they give that hollow thump with a bit of an echo, like the tin man when Dorothy thumps on his chest. Charlie Brown doesn't choose his little, pathetic tree from among many green and stately ones, he chooses the only “real” tree in the place. 

God could have chosen brighter and shinier, tidier and more grand, the more expensive and modern, and that's what everyone expected from the Messiah—that the Son of God would live in a castle and be protected and wear fine clothes and eat rich food. Instead, he was a real person, like us. Maybe that's the part of Christmas that really gets us. Jesus was found instead in a manger, a feeding trough among the animals, born in a stable. The Gospel says, “This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” Another word for sign in the Gospels is miracle. In the book of John, Chapter 20, verse 30 it says, “Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples.” He performed miracles, in other words. “This will be a miracle for you, that you will find the child lying in a manger.” It was a miracle to find a child in a manger. The shepherds would have no doubt which child it was. Children don't belong in mangers. Even more of a miracle is that the Son of God would be found in a manger. Maybe to us it sounds cute and cozy, but truly this would have been a pathetic place to try to bring a child into the world, a pathetic place to be born, but very real, and very down to earth, an indication of where Jesus would be found throughout his whole life. 

Jesus was often found where he wasn't expected to be, in the synagogue teaching at 12, at the Jordan River expecting to be baptized by John, among the lepers, among women and children, among the pathetic and small, among nobodies, among criminals, among the dead. He was seldom where he was expected to be and the same goes for this age, too. We find him in the pay it forward shops and soup kitchens. We find him wearing rags and sleeping in the elements. We hear him on the phone, he lost his job, his kid is sick, would we happen to have some extra food for his family. We think of him, far from home this holiday, suffering from grief this time of year, thrown out by his family after coming out of the closet, small and discounted, weak and tormented. But this is exactly who Jesus came to be and came to be among and within.

There was no room for him in the inn, in the fancy, warm, dry place of hubbub and privilege. So he finds the places where there is room. That is the miracle of Christmas. However busy we are, however little we have room for this pathetic, poor, bedraggled one, he is among us, a miracle right under our nose, waiting until we have room, until we are the one out in the cold or grieving, or until we realize that much of what use to fill our lives is much like those aluminum Christmas trees, fake and hollow, though glitzy. I think many of us realize it now, but we are just so afraid to let go of all that and stand vulnerable with our arms open to receive what God is offering, something real, something small, something meaningful, something living. And maybe he isn't even going to wait until we are prepared or ready, he is going to surprise us with his presence, ready or not, because we, too, are lost and hungry, feeling small and insignificant, weary of the consumerism, weary of the injustice, and maybe just looking for Jesus to surprise us and interrupt our very predictable lives with good news of great joy.

December 20, 2015

Gospel: Luke 1:39-55 

1^st Reading: Micah 5:2-5a

2^nd Reading: Hebrews 10:5-10

An unwed mother goes to wait our her pregnancy far away from wagging tongues and accusing eyes. An older woman find herself pregnant after years of infertility. A baby leaps in a womb. Two women with vastly different experiences find commonalities. Two women sing together. Two people bless each other. Two people know what it is like to be outsiders, embrace each other and support each other. A person with more experience and power defers to someone with less. These are completely ordinary occurrences. And yet we see in them hope and new life.

A family sits down to a Christmas feast. Two people who have argued talk it out like adults. Someone finds healing in Alcoholics Anonymous. Someone drives someone to a doctor appointment. Someone gives a gift to someone who might not otherwise receive a gift. Someone listens to a child. People sing together at a nursing home. New family members are welcomed. People share. These are completely ordinary occurrences and yet we can see in them hope and new life.

Each year at Advent and Christmas time, I follow a very similar routine. At some point I take down the orange of Thanksgiving and go to the basement for my three boxes of Christmas decorations. We exchange Christmas lists. I bake spritz cookies. I gather gifts and wrap them. We go get a tree or put up our artificial tree. I go to the post office to mail gifts. We open Christmas cards and get news of the year from family and friends. We listen to the same Christmas album that I have ever year since I was born. Maybe I even heard it in the womb—the Ray Coniff singers. Who knows if it is any good—it is tradition and it isn't Christmas without it. We go to grandma's for a Christmas celebration with her and all the cousins. We try to get together with Nick's side of the family and we always have to reschedule at least once due to illness. We struggle through holiday traffic. We exchange gifts. We eat food. We snuggle warm indoors. We have church. We sing “Joy to the World!” and “Silent Night.” I go home to celebrate with my family. Christmas is basically the same every year. In a way it is very ordinary.

And yet, there is something new happening, something hopeful and alive. There is something about this season that takes us back to childhood, that links us to the promises of God's presence coming among us, and that makes us look forward to a future of peace and joy so much that we want to act to make it so, so much that we do act to bring peace and joy on earth.

Maybe the most ordinary thing of all is the singing. We sang part of the Gospel this morning that Mary sang. As Pastor Hiller taught us last week in our Sunday morning Bible 101 class, often in the Bible when we see the text take the form of poetry, that's because the Bible scholars figure the speaker was singing. 

Even though singing, especially group singing, is becoming a lost art, it is so basic to who we are. Some scholars believe that before humans ever spoke, we sang, and that speaking evolved from that. Hearing my son make up new songs several times a week, makes me believe that more and more. Singing seems such a part of our nature. It can capture a depth of feeling that simply speaking cannot. It commits thoughts to memory—how often can you remember exactly what a person said, but you go home from church singing the choir anthem or a new hymn that you only just heard for the first time? 

Church is one of the few places where folks still expect to sing together. Sometimes the chanting of the communion setting in church seems so old fashioned and strange, but when we think of ages gone by when there weren't microphones to amplify the voice, singing provided a way for the sound to travel and the vowel sounds to be elongated so that words could be understood, even way in the back of the church.

This is one time of year when we still expect people to come together and sing in groups. Of course I'm talking about Christmas Caroling. It isn't a surprise to see a group singing in the mall or walking down the sidewalk. Singing together is a very ancient practice, it was one of the few types of entertainment that families had at their disposal before television was invented. 

But singing is not just ordinary or common. Singing is revolutionary. It is words that get to the heart. Singing changes us.

When the Berlin Wall came down, the report was that groups gathered there to sing. It started small, with a thousand or so in Leipzig and grew to 300,000 people gathered singing songs of justice and resistance. When the guards were asked why they didn't do something about it, why they didn't defend the wall, they said, “We had no contingency plan for song.” 

In times of American Slavery, slaves sang those songs of resistance to find hope, to build community, to remember who they were. Imagine what they thought as they sang the magnificat. God came to Mary, a person of little importance, and brought forth God's child, God's presence on earth through her. Jesus came to even everything out, to make everything right, to crush the proud and lift up the humble and downtrodden. What an incredible song of hope.

The folks in the readings for this day are in dark times. They don't have much reason to find God's presence in their midst. There is some debate about when this was written, but it was a good summary of how people felt in a number of instances when it seemed all hope was lost, when people weren't even sure if they would see the next day, let alone live secure. For Mary, she had every reason fear—fear that Joseph would release her and that she'd be shunned. For Elizabeth, she had given up a long time ago that she would ever bear a child. Earlier in the Gospel of Luke she talks about the disgrace she has endured among her people, that she was looked down upon by family and neighbors, that she and others felt her lacking as a woman that she had been unable to have a child. 

It is from this place of darkness, lack of hope, of despair and disgrace, that all these stories move toward the light and can receive the light, that they begin to expect the light, they are more prepared for the light and love and blessing of God.

Maybe we even sing our Advent hymns as an act of resistance. Some pastors, I know, feel pressured by their congregations to introduce Christmas hymns during the season of Advent. The hymns are playing all over the radio and then of course the day after Christmas they are gone. But we are waiting. We are full of expectation, we are watching, on the edge of our seat for the contractions to begin. Waiting is an art. It is something we get better at when we practice it together. We are waiting for Christmas, for the birth of Christ on Christmas Eve. And we are waiting for fullness of Christ's presence, for God's love and peace to be known by everyone, on whatever day of the year of fleeting moment or whatever that would look like. And we don't just wait by sitting in our armchair. We prepare. We take those ordinary moments and we look for the extraordinary presence of Christ in them. We take that ordinary trip to the store as an opportunity to help someone else, whether it is carrying their groceries, or grabbing extra cans of food for backpack buddies, or bringing someone along with us who can't get to the store on their own. We prepare by taking the chance to give a gift to someone who is forgotten or invite over a neighbor who might be lonely or by singing with someone in a nursing home. We are preparing for the love of Christmas to change us and thus change our world. That's when something ordinary becomes something transformative, when God is magnified and we see God's presence and love more clearly, and God magnifies those who are forgotten and despairing.

In the Gospel, Elizabeth blesses Mary. Elizabeth knows what it is like to have people talk about you behind your back and reject you. She knows a little bit of what Mary is facing. She turns her experience into blessing. She is the more powerful woman, and should expect Mary to respect her and dote on her. Instead she is honored by her cousin's visit and uses it as an opportunity to bless Mary and give her all the attention. And then she steps aside and lets Mary have the greater song. We can take a hint from Elizabeth, that when we are in the position of power, when we are the older, the more educated, the more wealthy, that is our opportunity to bless someone else, give them our attention, and let them be the one to shine. 

My prayer is that we would be expectant, that we would be on the lookout for the extraordinary in the ordinary, on the lookout for God's presence in ordinary moments. My prayer is that we would see God, not far away, but coming among us to empower us, and that our lives would be ones of blessing.

December 13, 2015

Gospel: Luke 3:7-18 

1^st Reading: Zephaniah 3:14-20

2^nd Reading: Philippians 4:4-7

“Rejoice in the Lord always, again I will say, Rejoice.” Today is the Sunday of Joy in the Advent Season. When the whole world is telling us to be afraid, we come here to rejoice. The days are getting literally darker and shorter. The waters are rising. The winds are howling. The forces of nature are telling us to be afraid in these dark days. And the darkening days are mirrored by the news. Be afraid and stay inside, don't get together with your neighbor because you might get hurt, don't help someone in need because they won't appreciate it, don't do anything but sit safely and watch this fearful news cycle and watch these commercials that cause more fear.

We want to do something, so today we turn to John the Baptist. He's the latest new craze, someone telling the truth even if it sounds a little harsh. We want something to change. We don't want to be afraid anymore, but we're not sure where to turn. 

He takes one look at us and says, “You brood of vipers!” Oh man, he's on to us. He tells us we're part of the problem. He challenges us to see if we're going to run away at his fiery speech or if we're desperate enough that we really do want change. He tells us that it isn't going to be enough to be in team Abraham or to join team John the Baptist or to get a little water thrown around and pay lip service to making change. “Change is coming!” he tell us. Get ready for the real change, God coming with fire and breath, Spirit, love. 

We, along, with the crowd, ask him, “What should we do?”

Even, tax collectors, lawyers, and used car salesmen, pimps, and IRS workers, insurance salesmen and billionaires came to John and asked, “What should we do?”

Soldiers and FBI, traffic cops, and investigators, spies, and all in the weapons industry also asked him, “What should we do?”

We hear of ISIS and we ask, “What should we do? What can we do?”

We read about the Climate talks in France and we ask, “What should we do?”

We look at the Christmas ads and drive in frantic holiday traffic and ask, “What should we do?”

John replies, “God is coming. I'm no one compared to him. He will separate the wheat the from the chaff. He will help us to understand what is wheat, what is lasting and satisfying, what is life-giving and hopeful and essential. And he will help us to understand what is chaff, what is expendable, temporary, trash that will be blown away by the wind and the Holy Spirit.

Pastor Sara was talking this week about roasting your own coffee this week in Text Study. Coffee beans have chaff, part of the seed coat that needs to burn off or be blown off or get picked off. She roasts hers in an air popper so that most of the chaff is blown off. But then she sits and picks through all the beans for any remaining chaff, because if it gets in the coffee it will make it bitter and disgusting.

We tend to think that some of us are wheat and some are chaff and boy is it easy to pick out those chaff kind of folk that don't make the cut. John doesn't separate the people by who is good and who is bad. He doesn't say soldiers over here and merchants over here, or rich people over here and poor over here. He doesn't say team Abraham over here and everyone else get out. He didn't say Muslims over here and Christians over here. We all have chaff. We all have something that is expendable and bitter that needs to be burned off or blown away or hacked off with an axe. We have it as individuals and as a group. And we all have a kernel of wheat, something valuable and beautiful and nutritious and lasting. According to John, it is God who separates these from each other and does this work. So then we ask, “What should we do? What is our part in all this?”

He says to do something that matters, that is constructive, that is wheat-like. 

Share. We learned in Bible Study about a man born in 1380, Bernadino of Sienna. He became a Franciscan Friar and one of the most popular preachers in Italy. He said that the poor give value to the life of the rich, because they give the rich someone to share with. Without the poor, there would be no reason to have rich people around, no way rich people could say their lives were valuable or meaningful. It thought that was an interesting perspective. Sharing gives our lives value, and don't we find that anyone can share, no matter what their bank account balance. We do share money and material possessions, but we also share love, and recipes, and the work load, and our problems and advice and love and so many things that you can't put a value on. We would call those priceless. Even if you only have one more than you need, share it—food, coats, dollars, pets, blankets, socks, shoes, whatever it is! It builds relationships between people. It simplifies our life. It can strengthen another that they have what they need. What should we do? Share. 

But that's not all. What should we do? Be honest. Collect no more than than the amount prescribed for you. No matter what anyone else does, don't take more than you need. When we are honest, we build trust in our community. We are reliable and we set an example for others to follow. We are full of fear and we want our world to be different, “What should we do?” Be honest.

But that's not all. What should we do? Be thankful. When it is so tempting to complain, to focus on what we don't have, to be fearful, there is one thing we can do and that is to be thankful—start counting our blessings. When everyone else wants the new car, the latest phone, the vacation house, the perfect eyebrows, the hover board, be satisfied with the blessings and gifts that we have. We are anxious and afraid, “What should we do?” “Be thankful.”

If we don't like things the way they are, if we don't want to see so much suffering, if we don't want to argue in our families so much, if we don't want to be afraid anymore, if we want our world to change, we can't just ask others to change. We have to be willing to change. We have to let God change us. We have to be willing to change our from the chaff to the wheat. We have to let God change our habits to what is temporary to what is lasting and satisfying.

I heard a quote this week, “Feeling afraid is different from being afraid.” From time to time we will feel afraid, and for good reason. There are dangers in this world that we are trying to warn each other about, legitimate things to be concerned about that we can do something about. However, we can become afraid as a habit, as a constant state of anxiety when we hear bad news story after bad news story, when we see the red ticker going across the bottom of the screen on the news, when we get on Facebook and see downed trees and flooded homes and shootings and lit candles in remembrance and arguments about gun control or banning Muslims. It is too easy to become afraid, for that feeling to become a lasting state of mind that we are acting from and getting ulcers from. 

“What can we do?” Don't feed it. Don't pay any more attention to it. Turn to something constructive, help someone else. Don't just feel generous, be generous. Don't just feel grateful, be grateful, don't just feel honest, be honest. Be the change you want to see, not because you are going to save the world or because you feel guilty, but out of thanksgiving for all God has done, trusting that God will separate the wheat from the chaff in your own life and in the life of your community. I enjoyed reading a sermon by Pastor Nadia Boltz-Weber this week. It was for Christ the King Sunday, but she was pointing out what really lasts and matters, what is wheat, and what ends up being merely a footnote, the chaff that gets blown away. 

This is what she wrote:

“So my prayer this week when I just didn’t know what to pray was simple. I named every single thing and person that seems so powerful right now as to feel inescapable – rulers, tyrants, my own sins, societal forces etc. and I named them and then said “footnote”. Pontias Pilate – footnote, The Islamic state – footnote, My own participation in the things I say I don’t believe in – footnote, The gun lobby – footnote, Your depression – footnote, Your boss – footnote, Student Loans – footnote, Xenophobic violence – footnote
Don’t mistake me – all of these things are very real and the horrible effect they have on us and on the world is also very real. But in the big picture I defiantly believe that God can redeem it. All of it. Our God will be victorious turning swords into plough-shares and anxiety into hope. I will cling to the promise that ALL flesh shall see the salvation of God.”