Through the giving & support of its members and congregations, the ELCA (Evangelical Lutheran Church in America) does great things on behalf of people in need, both here in the US & around the world. We partner with other churches and agencies in other countries to address immediate issues brought on by natural disasters, as well as working towards the eradication of poverty and the problems that come with it, so that in the long term, people will be able to stand on their own.
Because of these partnerships and relationships, the ELCA already has people on the ground in Haiti, working through the Lutheran World Federation. Haiti was already in dire need before this most recent earthquake hit Port-au-Prince, and this just exacerbates the problems.
As dire as the situation is, there are things you can do to help. First and foremost, I ask all of you to pray for the people & government of Haiti, as well as for all of those who work to assist those in need. Also, there are several seminarians there, some from my own alma mater, Trinity Lutheran Seminary - who were there for a J-term class - and others working in mission there who were from Wartburg Seminary. As far as I am aware, the Trinity students were in Jacmel (about 100 miles from Port-au-Prince). All survived and are fine. However, one of the students from Wartburg, Ben Larson, died. His wife and cousin were also in Port-au-Prince and survived the earthquake. Please hold them in prayer, along with Ben's parents and extended family as they grieve, as you do all those who lost someone and those who are still waiting for news.
Secondly, if you are able, I encourage you to consider making a donation toward the relief efforts. There are several reputable agencies out there; I suggest donating through the ELCA's Disaster Response ministry. Because they were already at work there & have staff in place, there is no start-up or overhead cost associated with this new phase of work, and they will use 100% of donations (earmarked for Haiti) to benefit the people of Haiti. 100% - it means that every penny you give will help people in need. It really can't get better than that, & is why I recommend using our own national church body's program to donate.
Below is the link to Presiding Bishop Hanson's statement detailing the ELCA's response to the situation in Haiti. It also contains a link to a page with information on how you can give, if you choose to do so. Thanks!
Messages and Statements - Evangelical Lutheran Church in America
Posted using ShareThis
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Friday, January 8, 2010
January 3, 2009 - Christmas 2
Andy & I spent most of New Year's Eve Day cleaning our house.
We were having some friends over to watch the college bowl games.
And, well, there's nothing like having company coming to get you in the cleaning spirit,
because you look with fresh eyes at all the things you just kind of put up with or overlook or plain ignore day-to-day, because you're too busy or tired or otherwise occupied to deal with them.
It struck me that it's a great metaphor for this time of year.
It's not necessarily that company is coming,
but the coming of a New Year invites us to clean house, so to speak.
The New Year seems to open our eyes.
Everyone seems to stop for a little while and take stock of their lives,
it's in the air at this time of year.
We reflect on where we are, how things are going,
how we would like them to be.
And most years, when we do this,
when we stop and look around,
we notice all of those things
that aren't quite what they are supposed to be,
the things that aren't how we want them to be.
And so we get to work, cleaning up the clutter,
sweeping out the corners,
dusting off the end tables and bookcases of our lives.
Because the New Year is coming,
like a welcome guest for many of us,
& we know the time is ripe for making resolutions.
The spirit of change is upon us,
and so we try to put into words the things we know need to change.
And those things run the gamut...
We promise ourselves
that we will eat better,
that we will exercise more,
that this year, we will lose that weight we've been carrying around.
We vow that we will get our finances under control once and for all.
We start of the year with high hopes of getting
the file cabinet, or the checkbook, or our houses organized & keeping it that way.
We declare our desire
to be a better spouse or parent or friend or sibling,
we resolve to be
more patient,
more loving,
more kind.
We make all sorts of resolutions, don't we? -
in this season of hope and promise and possibility
as we stand with one foot in the year just ending,
and one foot in the future,
glad for the chance to start over,
to try again,
reminded as we are every year,
that New Year's is the time when everybody gets a second chance.
But sooner or later,
and it doesn't take too long really,
we move past this optimistic New Year's fervor
and back into the daily grind.
And eventually,
most of us find that we have fallen off the resolution wagon.
Sometimes we succeed at making our resolutions a reality,
but as often as not,
those promises we make to ourselves get broken.
Or best laid plans fall to pieces,
that shiny new cleaned-up beginning starts to get dusty.
But before we get too far into this new year,
we hear this gospel –
this beautiful, poetic, hymnic opening to the Gospel of John
reminding us of another beginning,
“In the beginning was the Word...”
Way back when, in the very beginning,
the 1st beginning,
when God created the heavens and the earth,
God said...
God spoke the Word, and there was light.
God spoke the Word, and there was water and dry land.
God spoke the Word, and there were plants and trees
and fish and birds and every kind of creature you can imagine.
God spoke the Word, and humanity was created.
God spoke the Word, and all that is,
everything in the universe,
leapt into being.
In the beginning was the Word
and the Word was with God,
and the Word was God –
and that word was Jesus
who became flesh and lived among us.
Jesus, who came to be one of us,
to walk with us,
to laugh with us,
to cry with us.
Jesus, who came to show us the Father's heart –
A heart that is filled to overflowing with grace and truth
a heart that gives us grace upon grace,
a heart that gives life and light to all people.
God spoke this Word of never-ending love
at the beginning,
and speaks it still.
Inviting us here at the beginning of the year,
and every new day,
with every new breath,
to remember
that this Word is the source of all new beginnings.
This Word is the source of all second chances.
This Word is the source of all new life.
This Word became flesh and lived among us,
coming as a welcome guest,
not the kind you have to clean up for in advance,
but the kind who comes and pitches in right alongside you,
shining the light of truth in our dark corners,
and speaking grace and forgiveness and love,
empowering us
to be our true selves,
our child-of-God selves, (The Message)
the ones we were chosen and created to be
before the foundation of the world.
Thanks be to God.
Amen.
December 25, 2009 - Christmas Day
Apparently the week of Christmas found me in a musical mood...
Jesus Sings a Song of Love
John 1:1-14
Christmas Day 2009
In the beginning was the Word,
and the Word was with God,
and the Word was God.
He was in the beginning with God.
All things came into being through him,
and without him, not one thing came into being.
What has come into being in him was life,
and the life was the light of all people .(Jn. 1:1-4)
John begins his gospel with poetry,
what they think might have been an ancient song.
It calls to mind another beginning:
“In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth,
the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep,
while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters.
Then God said,
'Let there be light';
and there was light.” (Gen. 1:1-3)
In his classic series, The Chronicles of Narnia,
CS Lewis transports us into the magical, mysterious world of Narnia,
inhabited by talking animals & other mystical creatures,
and Aslan, the lion who is always good, but not quite safe.
In The Magician's Nephew, a prequel to all the other books,
Lewis tells how the world of Narnia came to be.
Digory's Uncle Andrew had created magic rings,
with the power to transport whoever was wearing them into other worlds.
And in a strange series of events, it comes to pass
that Digory & his friend Polly find themselves
with Uncle Andrew & the evil Empress Jadis,
in a strange, dark place.
Jadis calls it an empty world. A nothing world.
And so it was.
Yet as they stand around,
scared and confused & angry with each other,
wondering what to do,
suddenly they hear something
– the sound of 1 voice
And the voice begins to sing.
It is beautiful & deep & strong,
and it seems to come from everywhere
– in the air above them,
from the ground below their feet,
it surrounds them.
The Voice sings,
and suddenly many other voices join the song.
Stars shine forth by the millions,
& they are all singing with the one Voice.
The Voice is calling them into being,
singing them into existence!
And there was light.
And the Voice continues to sing,
and suddenly, the sun bursts over the horizon,
called forth by the Song
and suddenly, in that greater light,
they can see,
and what they see is a world being created.
A world filled with life & light.
They see grass rolling, spreading over the hills and the valleys.
Trees & flowers springing up from the ground,
and then the animals start to come forth!
– frogs and panthers, birds and butterflies, dogs & elephants,
every kind of creature you can imagine,
all brought forth by the power of the Song
and the Singer who sings it.
I think that if Lewis were writing the gospel of John,
he would have put it this way:
In the beginning was the Song,
and the Song was with the Singer,
and the Song was the Singer.
And yet, the gospel reminds us,
that despite its powerful beauty,
not everyone likes this Song;
not everyone will sing along.
John says,
“He was in the world,
and the world came into being through him;
yet the world did not know him.
He came to what was his own,
and his own people did not accept him.” (Jn. 1:10-11)
Because somewhere along the line,
not too long after the initial singing of the Song of life,
the world got out of sync.
It stopped listening to the Song -
it lost the melody,
it stopped singing along.
And pretty soon, the world just made up its own song instead.
You know this song.
It's the undercurrent of the news
and advertisements;
it makes its way into our sleepless nights.
It's a song of fear & anxiety,
of lust & greed & grasping for power.
It sings of how there is never enough –
not enough time, not enough money, not enough love.
It is not a beautiful song,
but somehow it's catchy.
It gets in our heads & drowns out God's song,
until we almost can't recognize it.
And so, in the fullness of time, God sent the Song.
And the Song became flesh & sang among us,
so that we might hear it with new ears
and remember this Song
the Song
that was powerful enough to create order out of chaos,
to call forth the sun and moon and stars,
to form the earth and all that lives on it;
powerful enough to sing the universe and all that is into existence.
God's Song -
about abundance, and joy, and truth,
God's Song -
about justice, and forgiveness, and mercy,
God's Song -
about peace, and wholeness, and salvation,
God's Song of never-ending Love
sung just for us,
a great, majestic symphony of life and light,
that begins and ends in the Singer of the Song
whose birth we celebrate today.
May this song dwell among us
and sing in our hearts
until we sing it as our very own.
Amen.
December 24, 2009 - Christmas Eve
“God's in his heaven, all's right with the world.”
This line from a Robert Browning poem kind of sums up the night,
as we breathe in deeply the sights and sounds
of this celebration of Christ's birth.
God's in his heaven, all's right with the world.
Christmas Eve calls forth this feeling;
it echoes within us,
as we listen again to the old, old story.
It's the story of Mary & Joseph
& the baby Jesus,
wrapped in bands of cloth and laid in a manger.
It's the story of shepherds,
who are the 1st to hear this good news of great joy
that a savior has been born.
It's the story of good news of great joy
that comes straight from the mouth of God's own messenger;
an angel sent –
not to kings or presidents,
not to those with money or power or influence –
but to humble shepherds,
working class men, watching their sheep by night.
It's the story of a multitude of the heavenly host
who SUDDENLY burst on the scene
To sing God's praise because they can't contain themselves!
It's the story of shepherds rushing off in haste
to see for themselves this thing
that the Lord had made known to them,
and finding everything just as it had been described.
It's a powerful story that beckons us to rest & rejoice this night,
knowing that God's in his heaven, all's right with the world.
Except that just beyond these walls,
just beyond our celebration,
the real world awaits.
A world that looks oh-so-different
from our beautiful Christmas-card nativity scenes.
The real world waits for us out there,
and chances are that at least some of us brought that real world
in the door with us tonight.
And we are reminded by this real world
that although God may be in his heaven,
all is not right with our world.
This knowledge pesters our sense of peace –
It reminds us of relationships that need to be repaired,
it harps on our health,
it fusses over our finances,
it admonishes us about our addictions,
it pushes us about poverty,
it harangues us about hunger,
it worries us about war,
it stirs up our stress and sorrow
and our fears for tomorrow.
On this night, where all is supposed to be calm
and all is supposed to be bright,
the real world barges in and bothers us.
And we may want to leave behind this real world
and immerse ourselves in the beauty of Luke's story,
because there, at least, on that 1st Christmas night,
God was in his heaven, and all was right with the world.
What could be more serene?
What could offer more hope?
What could seem more right in the world?
Except even then, all was not right in the world.
Mary & Joseph may have arrived safely
after their long journey from Nazareth,
but they were sent there on orders from the emperor
who had overtaken and oppressed their land.
They may have arrived safely in Bethlehem,
but they arrive as strangers,
only to discover that there is no place for them there,
and then the labor pains come,
and they find themselves –
not in a hospital, nor in a home,
but in a cave or a barn
or the dimly-lit corner of a dirt-floored room usually reserved just for the animals.
No comfy, cozy crib,
no soft & snuggly blanket,
no booties or bonnets to keep the baby warm,
just bands of cloth and a manger for a bed.
All was not right with the shepherd's world either,
for when the angel appeared,
it was to shepherds who were living in the fields.
Living in the fields.
Homelessness and hunger,
Worry and want,
abounded even then.
God may be in his heaven,
but all is not right with the world.
All is not right with the world,
but that is no surprise to God.
We come here to celebrate and rejoice this night
because God saw that all was not right with the world,
and God was not content to leave us to our own devices;
God was not content to leave us to our own demise;
God was not content to leave us to our own destruction.
God was not content to just be “in his heaven”
and pretend that all is right with the world.
No!
God looked down from heaven,
and God saw that all was not right with the world,
and for that very reason,
God came down from heaven!
God came down from heaven,
leaving behind glory,
leaving behind power,
leaving behind praise.
God came down from heaven
to enter this broken-down, sin-filled, “not-right” world,
to enter into our dangers and our dramas,
to enter into our hurt and our humanity.
God came down from heaven
to show us how much God wants a relationship with us,
to show us how much God loves us,
to show us how committed God is to setting the world right.
God came down from heaven
so that we might know & remember
that no matter what happens in this not-right world,
we are not in it alone,
we are not abandoned,
that we will never be forsaken.
God came down from heaven
to be born as a baby,
to be one of us,
to be Emmanuel, God-with-us!
So whatever burdens you have come here bearing,
Whatever trouble haunts your heart,
Whatever is not-right with your world tonight,
know that God came down as Jesus for you!
God came down for you.
That is why we celebrate tonight
that is why we sing -
Because we know that God came down from heaven,
and because he lived and died and rose again,
one day, all will be right with the world.
Thanks be to God!
Amen.
December 20, 2009 - Advent 4 - the Worship that Wasn't
We did not actually cancel worship on the 20th of December (not the 10 AM service anyway) - but no one came due to the weather... so now, a bit delayed, is the sermon that would have been on that day - and actually was: I preached it to myself!
I've always been a fan of music
Some of my earliest memories are of singing – my mom tells me I used to sing myself to sleep when I was a baby – and listening to Sesame Street records that told a story, that invited us in – to sing along, to dance, to laugh, to imagine we were there with them, that we were a part of whatever was going on .
So it makes some sense that I would like musicals. The Sound of Music, West Side Story, Singing in the Rain – where the story is told through song & dance – telling the story in a different way – and while I know some spoken quotes from all of those shows, I can sing you whole songs from memory...
But not everyone likes musicals – they require a certain willing suspension of disbelief. I mean really, who responds to a situation by bursting out with song out of nowhere? And usually they start dancing too – these whole elaborate numbers & everyone just instinctively knows where to go & what to do & what words to sing and the harmony & counter- melodies and all that – it could never happen. People don't do that in real life.
But that's kinda what happens here in the gospel -
Mary's had a run-in with the angel Gabriel, who tells her she's gonna have the Son of God,
the one who will be the savior of his people.
And Mary, young, teenage, unwed Mary, says, “Okay! Sounds good to me!”
and Gabriel leaves
& off Mary,
young, teenaged, unwed mother-to-be Mary,
goes from way up north in Nazareth of Galilee,
some distance down to an unnamed town in the hill country of Judea
– quite a ways south –
and Elizabeth, her cousin,
her much older cousin who is also expecting
– feels her baby (John the Baptist, btw) leap in her womb.
Elizabeth blesses Mary, amazed at all that is going on,
and Mary,
well she does what anyone of us would do -
she starts to sing!
Luke says, “and Mary said...”
so maybe she herself did not actually start to sing,
but even so,
she comes out with this amazing poem that has since been set to music
countless numbers of times;
it's been used in evening prayer for centuries
One of the pastors at our clergy Bible study this week asked if we had it memorized
– as a Psalm to sing –
and I had to say no –
but I do know the version we use here at St. John's for Advent evening prayer
– the Holden Evening Prayer version -
and it's a beautiful song:
My soul proclaims your greatness, oh God,
and my spirit rejoices in you;
You have looked with love on your servant here & blessed me all my life through...
Beautiful.
And like much good music in my life, it has sunk down in me.
It reverberates long after I stop singing it.
It echoes.
It wells up.
It sings itself within my heart and my mind.
Like those Sesame street records of old,
like the musicals I have come to know & love,
it has taken up residence within me;
it invites me in
– to sing, to pray,
to enter into Mary's story
& hear it, to sing it as my own.
It does it the way all good music does,
without my even really noticing it.
I know the words, but I don't give them much thought.
Except once in a while,
like when they show up in the lectionary,
and I read them instead of singing along,
and I realize again that these words of Mary are not just a song of praise.
They are a song of sedition.
They words that could get a young, teenaged, unwed mother-to-be killed.
Because this is not just a song between a young woman & her God.
It is not just a song about their personal relationship.
This is not just a song that gives thanks to God for doing great things for Mary,
for looking on his lowly servant with favor & blessing her.
Mary goes on to sing this song of a God who turns the world upside-down!
God shows strength with his arm,
God scatters the proud,
God has brought down the powerful & lifted up the lowly.
God has filled the hungry, but has sent the rich away – empty.
This is not a sentimental little song you'd find printed on the inside of a Hallmark card
This is a protest song!
This is a song against the powers that be!
Sing these words in the midst of an oppressive regime,
and you're likely to find yourself accused of treason or rebellion or worse!
And read the words to this ancient Christian anthem
even in a democratic nation proud of its unalienable right to free speech,
and you might start to get a little uncomfortable.
Not because you are worried that you'll be hauled off to jail,
or accused of stirring up rebellion,
but because you start to wonder whose side God is really on,
because you get to thinking about who the proud are in this world;
who the powerful are;
who the rich are.
And it might dawn on you,
citizen of the most powerful country of the world,
resident in the richest nation on the planet,
as it stands here near the beginning of the 21st century
after the birth of this savior we have so longed for,
that the people Mary is singing about God overturning
are people like
us.
This colossal role reversal that she celebrates –
that the church has celebrated down through the centuries –
that Christians have celebrated in the millennia since Luke 1st wrote this gospel down –
This is a role reversal that will upend not just those people we choose.
It's a role reversal that will upend us too.
It'll pull the rug out from under our feet.
It'll take away our certainty about all of those things we have used
to make us feel confident,
to make us feel secure,
to make us feel safe.
This song,
springing forth from the mouth of a young, teenaged, unwed mother-to-be,
sings,
as so many of our readings have this Advent season,
of the end to life as we know it.
But it sings of a new beginning:
The beginning
Of life as God has intended it to be since the beginning of time,
Where the valleys are filled and the mountains are made low;
Where the crooked are made straight and the rough ways smooth.
A new beginning
Where the hungry are fed,
And the lowly are lifted up,
Where the imbalances and injustices of our world are made right.
And it starts here & now,
as God chooses the young, the insignificant, the vulnerable
to bear the only Son of God,
to bring forth the Savior of the world,
and she breaks forth in song!
Reminding herself, reminding us of what God has done,
and is doing,
and has promised to do,
in a world that needs to be –
Not turned upside down –
but finally,
amazingly,
turned right-side up!
Through the grace and love of God
entering the world
in lowliness,
in poverty,
but also
in great,
unending,
love.
May this be the song of our hearts.
It is calling for us to enter the story,
and make it our own.
Amen.
I've always been a fan of music
Some of my earliest memories are of singing – my mom tells me I used to sing myself to sleep when I was a baby – and listening to Sesame Street records that told a story, that invited us in – to sing along, to dance, to laugh, to imagine we were there with them, that we were a part of whatever was going on .
So it makes some sense that I would like musicals. The Sound of Music, West Side Story, Singing in the Rain – where the story is told through song & dance – telling the story in a different way – and while I know some spoken quotes from all of those shows, I can sing you whole songs from memory...
But not everyone likes musicals – they require a certain willing suspension of disbelief. I mean really, who responds to a situation by bursting out with song out of nowhere? And usually they start dancing too – these whole elaborate numbers & everyone just instinctively knows where to go & what to do & what words to sing and the harmony & counter- melodies and all that – it could never happen. People don't do that in real life.
But that's kinda what happens here in the gospel -
Mary's had a run-in with the angel Gabriel, who tells her she's gonna have the Son of God,
the one who will be the savior of his people.
And Mary, young, teenage, unwed Mary, says, “Okay! Sounds good to me!”
and Gabriel leaves
& off Mary,
young, teenaged, unwed mother-to-be Mary,
goes from way up north in Nazareth of Galilee,
some distance down to an unnamed town in the hill country of Judea
– quite a ways south –
and Elizabeth, her cousin,
her much older cousin who is also expecting
– feels her baby (John the Baptist, btw) leap in her womb.
Elizabeth blesses Mary, amazed at all that is going on,
and Mary,
well she does what anyone of us would do -
she starts to sing!
Luke says, “and Mary said...”
so maybe she herself did not actually start to sing,
but even so,
she comes out with this amazing poem that has since been set to music
countless numbers of times;
it's been used in evening prayer for centuries
One of the pastors at our clergy Bible study this week asked if we had it memorized
– as a Psalm to sing –
and I had to say no –
but I do know the version we use here at St. John's for Advent evening prayer
– the Holden Evening Prayer version -
and it's a beautiful song:
My soul proclaims your greatness, oh God,
and my spirit rejoices in you;
You have looked with love on your servant here & blessed me all my life through...
Beautiful.
And like much good music in my life, it has sunk down in me.
It reverberates long after I stop singing it.
It echoes.
It wells up.
It sings itself within my heart and my mind.
Like those Sesame street records of old,
like the musicals I have come to know & love,
it has taken up residence within me;
it invites me in
– to sing, to pray,
to enter into Mary's story
& hear it, to sing it as my own.
It does it the way all good music does,
without my even really noticing it.
I know the words, but I don't give them much thought.
Except once in a while,
like when they show up in the lectionary,
and I read them instead of singing along,
and I realize again that these words of Mary are not just a song of praise.
They are a song of sedition.
They words that could get a young, teenaged, unwed mother-to-be killed.
Because this is not just a song between a young woman & her God.
It is not just a song about their personal relationship.
This is not just a song that gives thanks to God for doing great things for Mary,
for looking on his lowly servant with favor & blessing her.
Mary goes on to sing this song of a God who turns the world upside-down!
God shows strength with his arm,
God scatters the proud,
God has brought down the powerful & lifted up the lowly.
God has filled the hungry, but has sent the rich away – empty.
This is not a sentimental little song you'd find printed on the inside of a Hallmark card
This is a protest song!
This is a song against the powers that be!
Sing these words in the midst of an oppressive regime,
and you're likely to find yourself accused of treason or rebellion or worse!
And read the words to this ancient Christian anthem
even in a democratic nation proud of its unalienable right to free speech,
and you might start to get a little uncomfortable.
Not because you are worried that you'll be hauled off to jail,
or accused of stirring up rebellion,
but because you start to wonder whose side God is really on,
because you get to thinking about who the proud are in this world;
who the powerful are;
who the rich are.
And it might dawn on you,
citizen of the most powerful country of the world,
resident in the richest nation on the planet,
as it stands here near the beginning of the 21st century
after the birth of this savior we have so longed for,
that the people Mary is singing about God overturning
are people like
us.
This colossal role reversal that she celebrates –
that the church has celebrated down through the centuries –
that Christians have celebrated in the millennia since Luke 1st wrote this gospel down –
This is a role reversal that will upend not just those people we choose.
It's a role reversal that will upend us too.
It'll pull the rug out from under our feet.
It'll take away our certainty about all of those things we have used
to make us feel confident,
to make us feel secure,
to make us feel safe.
This song,
springing forth from the mouth of a young, teenaged, unwed mother-to-be,
sings,
as so many of our readings have this Advent season,
of the end to life as we know it.
But it sings of a new beginning:
The beginning
Of life as God has intended it to be since the beginning of time,
Where the valleys are filled and the mountains are made low;
Where the crooked are made straight and the rough ways smooth.
A new beginning
Where the hungry are fed,
And the lowly are lifted up,
Where the imbalances and injustices of our world are made right.
And it starts here & now,
as God chooses the young, the insignificant, the vulnerable
to bear the only Son of God,
to bring forth the Savior of the world,
and she breaks forth in song!
Reminding herself, reminding us of what God has done,
and is doing,
and has promised to do,
in a world that needs to be –
Not turned upside down –
but finally,
amazingly,
turned right-side up!
Through the grace and love of God
entering the world
in lowliness,
in poverty,
but also
in great,
unending,
love.
May this be the song of our hearts.
It is calling for us to enter the story,
and make it our own.
Amen.
December 13, 2009 - Advent 3
I was on vacation Sunday the 6th, so I don't have a sermon to post from that day. Here's Advent 3...
So, with many other exhortations, John the baptizer proclaimed the good news to the people...
I sometimes wonder what those "other" exhortations might have been.
Because what we hear in this gospel lesson doesn't sound like very good news to us.
We hear good news in the other 2 readings for today: the prophet Zephaniah says, "Sing aloud! Shout! Rejoice and exult with all your heart!" Why? Because, "The Lord has taken away the judgments against you... The Lord, your God is in your midst.”
Then we ha ve Paul, another early sharer of good news, and he follows right along Zephaniah's joyful path. "Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice." (& if you ever went to Christian camp, or maybe Sunday school or Vacation Bible School, & you learned that song, you're probably singing it - and now you know where it comes from!) But “Rejoice!” he says - “The Lord is near!”
The Lord is near, and so joy is bustin' out all over the place in our readings this morning. It's always that way on the 3rd Sunday of Advent – all readings point to joy, which is why it used to be known as Gaudete (gow-DAE-tae) Sunday. Gaudete is Latin for “rejoice.” It's the theme of the day - Rejoice, God is near! Rejoice - God is in your very midst! Rejoice!
If you're anything like me, then, it kinda makes you wonder how John the Baptizer managed to sneak his way into this set of readings. Sure, he's part of “the Lord is near” crowd – he points out that “one more powerful than I is coming...” – but he doesn't make it sound like much to rejoice over.
There he is, out in the wilderness, where he's been for much of his life, and now, crowds of people come out to where he is preaching, out there by the Jordan river. They come to be baptized by him. Now, if we had crowds of people coming here to be baptized all at once, we would be rejoicing, but John the baptizer? He's not exactly the one you would want to be greeting people at the front doors of the church.
“You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath that is to come?” (That's not the kind of thing they teach you to say in Evangelism 101, by the way.) “Bear fruits worthy of repentance.” - Don't just say you've changed. Show you've changed. The ax is at the root of the tree, ready to cut down every tree that does not bear good fruit. “One more powerful than I is coming,” John tells them. “I baptize you with water...” but he's coming with the Holy Spirit, with fire, with winnowing fork in hand, ready to clear the threshing floor – and the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.
I don't know how many of us would have welcomed this message from Jesus' cousin, John. We Lutherans like our preachers with a little more love & grace, and a little less fire and brimstone. Because we don't really want to be reminded that there is stuff we need to repent of, we don't want to think of the things we have done or left undone, of the ways we have not loved God with our whole hearts, have not loved our neighbors as ours elves. We are reminded of those things often enough – by the ones we have hurt, maybe just by our own guilty conscience. And we certainly don't want to be reminded that feeling guilty or sorry isn't the same as repenting. Repenting means turning around, doing an about face. It means changing our ways. I could tell you stories – and you could tell me stories – of things done that can't be undone, words that can't be taken back, regrets carried. But those regrets aren't always enough to make us change our ways, are they?
That's what makes us squirm when we hear John the baptizer preaching to us today. We know there are things we haven't changed that we should, wrongs that we have not tried to make right. We don't like being confronted so boldly with the reality of our sins & shortcomings, and we sure don't like the sound of the consequences John puts out there. This business about trees without good fruit being cut down, about the chaff being separated from the wheat and being burned in unquenchable fire can make us downright nervous. This lesson doesn't seem to give us much cause to rejoice on this Sunday of rejoicing.
But there is reason to rejoice! There is good news tucked in John the baptizer's words to his listeners this morning. Because the one who is coming is more powerful than John. The one who is coming comes with a winnowing fork in hand, ready to sort out the wheat from the chaff, preparing to gather the wheat into the granary. That's the whole point of this exercise, to gather in the wheat, to reap a harvest. The focus is on the grain, not on the chaff.
This isn't a matter of dividing up the good people from the bad people, the in-crowd from the outsiders. Every grain of wheat grows with chaff. Chaff is the dry, outer husk that surrounds the seed of life within. It's inedible, unusable, not fit for humans to eat. And before it can be used, the wheat has to be separated from the chaff. You know where I'm going with this, right? We are like that wheat, complete with chaff of our own, all those qualities and habits that aren't worth keeping, that keep us from being the fruitful harvest God longs to have.
And that's where the good news comes in. One is coming who is more powerful than we are, and he can separate the wheat from the chaff. He doesn't abandon us to our own efforts to clean up our acts and make ourselves wo rthy. He comes, and he baptizes us with the Holy Spirit, and with that purifying fire, he slowly but surely burns the chaff of our lives away. (There's a lot of it – maybe that's why John says it's an unquenchable fire, because there's a never-ending supply to work with.)
And while that's happening, that same Holy Spirit draws us ever deeper into the life of Jesus. The roots of our lives grow deep & strong, anchored in Jesus, the source of all life.
And when our lives are rooted in him, when we draw our lives from him, the fruits of repentance are bound to grow, fruits marked by generosity and fairness and justice and contentment.
There is good news in this gospel after all. So, rejoice! The Lord is near. The one who is coming is more powerful than we are, more powerful than the powers of sin & death, and he comes to save. Thanks be to God!
Amen.
So, with many other exhortations, John the baptizer proclaimed the good news to the people...
I sometimes wonder what those "other" exhortations might have been.
Because what we hear in this gospel lesson doesn't sound like very good news to us.
We hear good news in the other 2 readings for today: the prophet Zephaniah says, "Sing aloud! Shout! Rejoice and exult with all your heart!" Why? Because, "The Lord has taken away the judgments against you... The Lord, your God is in your midst.”
Then we ha ve Paul, another early sharer of good news, and he follows right along Zephaniah's joyful path. "Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice." (& if you ever went to Christian camp, or maybe Sunday school or Vacation Bible School, & you learned that song, you're probably singing it - and now you know where it comes from!) But “Rejoice!” he says - “The Lord is near!”
The Lord is near, and so joy is bustin' out all over the place in our readings this morning. It's always that way on the 3rd Sunday of Advent – all readings point to joy, which is why it used to be known as Gaudete (gow-DAE-tae) Sunday. Gaudete is Latin for “rejoice.” It's the theme of the day - Rejoice, God is near! Rejoice - God is in your very midst! Rejoice!
If you're anything like me, then, it kinda makes you wonder how John the Baptizer managed to sneak his way into this set of readings. Sure, he's part of “the Lord is near” crowd – he points out that “one more powerful than I is coming...” – but he doesn't make it sound like much to rejoice over.
There he is, out in the wilderness, where he's been for much of his life, and now, crowds of people come out to where he is preaching, out there by the Jordan river. They come to be baptized by him. Now, if we had crowds of people coming here to be baptized all at once, we would be rejoicing, but John the baptizer? He's not exactly the one you would want to be greeting people at the front doors of the church.
“You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath that is to come?” (That's not the kind of thing they teach you to say in Evangelism 101, by the way.) “Bear fruits worthy of repentance.” - Don't just say you've changed. Show you've changed. The ax is at the root of the tree, ready to cut down every tree that does not bear good fruit. “One more powerful than I is coming,” John tells them. “I baptize you with water...” but he's coming with the Holy Spirit, with fire, with winnowing fork in hand, ready to clear the threshing floor – and the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.
I don't know how many of us would have welcomed this message from Jesus' cousin, John. We Lutherans like our preachers with a little more love & grace, and a little less fire and brimstone. Because we don't really want to be reminded that there is stuff we need to repent of, we don't want to think of the things we have done or left undone, of the ways we have not loved God with our whole hearts, have not loved our neighbors as ours elves. We are reminded of those things often enough – by the ones we have hurt, maybe just by our own guilty conscience. And we certainly don't want to be reminded that feeling guilty or sorry isn't the same as repenting. Repenting means turning around, doing an about face. It means changing our ways. I could tell you stories – and you could tell me stories – of things done that can't be undone, words that can't be taken back, regrets carried. But those regrets aren't always enough to make us change our ways, are they?
That's what makes us squirm when we hear John the baptizer preaching to us today. We know there are things we haven't changed that we should, wrongs that we have not tried to make right. We don't like being confronted so boldly with the reality of our sins & shortcomings, and we sure don't like the sound of the consequences John puts out there. This business about trees without good fruit being cut down, about the chaff being separated from the wheat and being burned in unquenchable fire can make us downright nervous. This lesson doesn't seem to give us much cause to rejoice on this Sunday of rejoicing.
But there is reason to rejoice! There is good news tucked in John the baptizer's words to his listeners this morning. Because the one who is coming is more powerful than John. The one who is coming comes with a winnowing fork in hand, ready to sort out the wheat from the chaff, preparing to gather the wheat into the granary. That's the whole point of this exercise, to gather in the wheat, to reap a harvest. The focus is on the grain, not on the chaff.
This isn't a matter of dividing up the good people from the bad people, the in-crowd from the outsiders. Every grain of wheat grows with chaff. Chaff is the dry, outer husk that surrounds the seed of life within. It's inedible, unusable, not fit for humans to eat. And before it can be used, the wheat has to be separated from the chaff. You know where I'm going with this, right? We are like that wheat, complete with chaff of our own, all those qualities and habits that aren't worth keeping, that keep us from being the fruitful harvest God longs to have.
And that's where the good news comes in. One is coming who is more powerful than we are, and he can separate the wheat from the chaff. He doesn't abandon us to our own efforts to clean up our acts and make ourselves wo rthy. He comes, and he baptizes us with the Holy Spirit, and with that purifying fire, he slowly but surely burns the chaff of our lives away. (There's a lot of it – maybe that's why John says it's an unquenchable fire, because there's a never-ending supply to work with.)
And while that's happening, that same Holy Spirit draws us ever deeper into the life of Jesus. The roots of our lives grow deep & strong, anchored in Jesus, the source of all life.
And when our lives are rooted in him, when we draw our lives from him, the fruits of repentance are bound to grow, fruits marked by generosity and fairness and justice and contentment.
There is good news in this gospel after all. So, rejoice! The Lord is near. The one who is coming is more powerful than we are, more powerful than the powers of sin & death, and he comes to save. Thanks be to God!
Amen.
November 29, 2009 - Advent 1
Time for a sermon sing-a-long!
City sidewalks, busy sidewalks, dressed in holiday style -
in the air there's a feeling of Christmas!
Children laughing, people passing,
meeting smile after smile,
and on every street corner you'll hear...
Silver bells (silver bells), silver bells (silver bells)
It's Christmas time in the city.
Ring-a-ling (ring-a-ling!)
Hear them ring (hear them ring)
Soon it will be Christmas Day!
Soon it will be Christmas Day! And it's true, isn't it – in the air, there's a feeling of Christmas – or at least, it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas – everywhere you g o. (but wait, that's another song...) Actually, it was beginning to look like Christmas over a month ago . I went to buy a Halloween costume to wear to the church's Halloween potluck party, a full week before Halloween, mind you, and the inside of that Kmart was already dressed in holiday style – the corner that always has the seasonal stuff – well, it had Halloween things – costumes and decorations and make-up – but they were already marked down; & right there next to the spooky, scary stuff, well, they had the beginnings of Christmas up & ready to go – artificial trees, lights, ornaments, you name it. And the signs of Christmas approaching have been growing ever since – one radio station I know started playing nothing but Christmas music the day after Halloween, Lynbrook & Valley Stream have their street lights all decked out with lighted wreaths and stars. And if all that somehow escaped your attention, then this past week or two with its ads and commercials for great door-buster deals starting at all hours of the day & night after Thanksgiving certainly would have woken you up to the fact that there are only how many more shopping days until Christmas?! Signs and reminders to get ready for the big day are all around us – you can't miss 'em!
It's not quite the picture painted by the Silver Bells song. And it doesn't sit right with us, especially at this time of year, when we want to focus on goodness and light. There is enough distress and confusion, and fear and foreboding in the world the rest of the time – we don't want to be reminded of it at Christmas! We'd rather sing our Christmas carols and bake our Christmas cookies and write out our Christmas cards or letters. At this time of year, especially, we want to push away all that is not right with the world. We want to lose ourselves in the glow of twinkling lights and not have to think about the pain and anxiety and worries of this life. And yet here Jesus is, reminding us that there is trouble in the world, and trouble yet to come.
And yet, while none of these signs sound like they point to good news, Jesus says, “when all these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.” Stand up, and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near! This seems counter-intuitive, doesn't it? It's hard to follow Jesus' logic.
Because the day Jesus describes sounds pretty dark, pretty scary – it doesn't sound like redemption could be anywhere near.
But then Jesus tells this parable about a fig tree, about all trees, really. He says, you know that as soon as a tree gets its leaves on, winter's gone and summer's just around the corner. And all of these things I'm telling you about, when you see them taking place, you'll know that the kingdom of God is near, about to break loose in the world. And that doesn't make all that much sense at first either.
But this story about trees and new leaves and summer are a reminder to us that even when life seems to be gone, new life can spring forth. I was looking at that lovely mulberry tree in my backyard the other day. And right now, all of its leaves are gone. It's a bare, barren tree. It's nothing to look at, just a bunch of gray branches, & from the surface, it looks like it could be dead. And all winter, it will look that way, like something you might as well cut down, because what good does it do, other than to drop old twigs and branches in our yard when it gets too windy?
Except I know and you know that that's just a part of the story. Because sometime in the spring, all of a sudden, that tree will be bursting with new leaves and blossoms, and not too long after that, it'll be filled with those lovely purple berries that grow and ripen and drop into our yard – feeding the birds, and sprouting to new life themselves, if we'd let 'em.
And the world, our world, is much like that tree in winter. On the surface, things can look bleak. When the wind starts to blow and branches are creaking and cracking under the strain, we can wonder what new life can come forth from a world that carries so much confusion and distress and fear and foreboding. But that same God who created and cares for that tree and causes new life to grow created us and the whole world. And “the days are surely coming,” says the LORD, “when I will fulfill the promise I made... in those days and at that time, I will cause a righteous Branch to spring up for David; and he shall execute justice and righteousness in the land.” (Jer. 33:14-15)
Jesus is that righteous branch, an d God has sent him into our world, this one who we wait for in this already-but- not-yet time. God sent Jesus to be one of us, to walk with us, to live with us, to be God-with-us. In times of distress, when the worries of this life weigh our hearts down, Jesus is with us, holding our hand, sharing our suffering. And he says, stand up, raise up your head – for in those dark times, Jesus, your redemption, is near.
Thanks be to God.
Amen.
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