December 11, 2011 - Advent 3 - Beauty from Brokenness

Beauty from Brokenness

Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11

Advent 3 – December 11, 2011

On Sunday, May 22, of this year a tornado ravaged the Missouri city of Joplin. Several people died in the destruction and its aftermath. Peace Lutheran Church was demolished – its sanctuary, offices, classrooms, and gathering place leveled. This was a congregation that had already been facing difficult times. They were between pastors, and member giving could only support a part-time pastor to begin with. The loss of their building, combined with the wreckage of so much of the town and the increasing number of deaths attributed to the disaster was devastating. It was a time of sorrow and mourning, a time to begin wondering about when and how they would rebuild and continue the ministry God had called them to. And while the people of Peace showed remarkable courage and spirit in the face of the obstacles before them, I imagine that there have been times when those obstacles seem insurmountable, when they consider the future and doubt how they will get to where they want to be and wonder if they will have what it will take to get there.

It's the same dilemma faced by the people of New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina, faced by the people of Japan after this past year's earthquakes and tsunami, faced by the people of North Dakota after spring flooding, faced by people in upstate New York and New England after Hurricane Irene turned into a tropical storm and skipped over Long Island, only to wreak serious damage further inland. How do you rebuild when everything you've ever known has been brought to rubble? Where do you even start?

These are questions the people of ancient Israel knew only too well. The prophet Isaiah speaks to and about them in our Old Testament lesson this morning – defining his mission as one anointed and sent to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners; to proclaim the year of the LORD's favor and the day of the vengeance of our God” (Is. 61:1-2) – to comfort and provide for all who mourn.

You see, this is after the time of the exile – when the ruling class and elite and wealthy had been carted off by the Babylonians as part of their divide and conquer war strategy. But now, God has sent a deliverer, Cyrus of Persia, who had defeated the Babylonians, and told the Israelites that they could go home – and not only that, but once they arrived there, they were to get to work rebuilding the city of Jerusalem and the Temple of God. But that wasn't as easy as it sounded. When they arrived home, they found the city in worse shape than they could have imagined. Rebuilding was an overwhelming prospect, complicated by the fact that they struggled to work together, to agree with one another on how to work toward their common goal. And so they languished there, hopeless, feeling helpless to change their situation, to restore and repair the ruin that surrounded them.

Even if we've never experienced that kind of literal devastation, we all know something of what it feels like to have your world turned upside down, to feel like the things you have worked so hard to build have been leveled, destroyed, laid waste – whether it was the end of your dream career, the disintegration of a marriage or close friendship, the lasting trauma of military service in a war zone, or the death of your spouse or child or parent. We've all come to those times when we feel our lives are in ruins, and we are surrounded by the wreckage of what should have been and wonder how it is that we are to begin rebuilding – how we can find the energy or stamina or strength – emotional, physical, or spiritual – to start over, when everywhere we look, there is destruction and devastation.


But it is into just such situations as this that God anoints and sends messengers to speak to God's people on God's behalf. In this part of the Bible, God sends the prophet Isaiah to bring good news, to speak words of courage and of hope, to offer comfort – to remind the people that God has come near, that God is turning things around! God is working a transformation – promising a garland instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the mantle of praise instead of faint spirits. In the face of all the trouble and challenges that are before them, God sends Isaiah to remind them that God brings light out of darkness, joy out of sorrow, hope out of discouragement, life out of death!

It's not for nothing that in Luke's gospel, in chapter 4, when Jesus is just beginning his public ministry, he stands up in the synagogue in his hometown of Nazareth and is handed the scroll. And he finds the place where it was written just these words from Isaiah: “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.” And he rolls up the scroll and hands it back to the attendant, and sits down, and with everyone looking, says to the crowd, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”
Jesus is the one that brings these words of Isaiah to fruition. God began this work with the leaders and the prophets of old, but in Jesus, it is completed. He is God's good news to a hurting world. He is the one who binds up our broken hearts. Jesus is the one who brings liberty and release from all that holds us captive. In Jesus, our mourning is traded for gladness, our dejected hearts replaced with hearts of praise. In him, we are clothed in salvation and righteousness.

But the story doesn't end with our own healing. Through Jesus, we are sent, as Isaiah was sent, to bring good news, to heal the hurting, to bring joy to the grieving. We are called to reach out to others from our own brokenness – to share the love of God that is healing us
.
Out of the devastation of Peace Lutheran Church comes this beautiful story of what happens when we do that. In the days and weeks after the tornado hit, as people from all over came to help begin the rebuilding process, a youth group from Christ and Trinity Lutheran Church came from 200 miles away in Sedalia, Missouri to help with the clean-up efforts. And while they were there, they saw pieces of broken glass where Peace had once stood. They were inspired to collect those fragments and take them back to their church, where they formed them into a huge, beautiful, illuminated cross – a gift that they delivered back to the people of Peace just two weeks ago as the season of Advent was beginning.

And that, right there, is a sign and symbol of what the gospel is – taking what is broken and shattered and destroyed and transforming it, reshaping it, rebuilding it into something new, a reminder of hope, something that gives life to those who encounter it.

This is what God does.

God brings beauty out of brokenness.

And then God sends us, God's beautiful, broken people, to do the same, in the name of the One who was broken for us.

Thanks be to God. Amen.


*If you are interested in seeing the cross & reading more about the youth involved in this project in Missouri, you can read an article about it here.

December 4, 2011 - Advent 2 - The Promise of the Promised One

The Promise of the Promised One

Mark 1:1-8

Advent 2 – December 4, 2011

People often ask me, since I'm not originally from around here, what I think of Long Island. Do I like it here? And in general, my answer is usually the same – “It's a good place to live. I like it here just fine – except when I wanna leave.” Because you know and I know that getting off this Island is a pain. Being on an island means that to leave it, you have to cross some body of water somewhere – and that means bridges or tunnels, which lead to toll booths and traffic. No matter how you go, unless you leave at just the right time and get very lucky, you're bound to get gummed up somewhere – and that's even without construction or accidents or repairs or who knows what else! It's not easy to leave this place. In order to do it and not lose our minds (or our tempers) we have to plan. We have to prepare.

Here we are, at the beginning of Mark's gospel – Mark, who doesn't give us any stories of Jesus' birth or family tree – but just starts in the middle of the story that is just the beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. Mark takes the camera and zooms in on a wild man, out in a wild place, John the Baptizer, who appears as the voice of one crying out in the wilderness, 'Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight,” and the crowds come a-running to see this man and to hear his voice, to embrace his call to repent and be baptized.

Now we may or may not realize the importance of where this scene takes place. When Mark tells us that John is out in the wilderness at the river Jordan, this is about more than geography. It is a harkening back to the story of Exodus, when God led the people out of slavery in Egypt under Pharaoh and into the Promised Land. But first, the Israelites wandered in the wilderness for 40 years. It was there and then that they learned what it meant to trust God, to rely on God, to depend on God – for food and for water and for guidance. It was for them, both a time of purification and of preparation – there was a reason God had them wander in the desert for 40 years, after all! But finally, when a generation had passed and the time had come, they came to the river Jordan. Just across the Jordan lay the Promised Land – but they would have to cross through the water to enter into the promises of the Promised Land, into the new life God had been leading them to all that time. The river is a dividing line between their past slavery and their future freedom.

So when John the Baptizer shows up out in the wilderness baptizing in the Jordan, it's a clear reminder of their history, of their relationship with the living God. This is a place filled with meaning to this people. It jogs their memory of who they are and where they have come from; where they have been and where they are now and how far they have fallen away. It is a splash of cold water in their face, waking them up to reality: they are living in the promised land, but they were not living into God's promises to them or living up to their promises to God. This is a covenant relationship, but they haven't lived up to their end of the agreement – to love and to trust God above all else. It's as though they have set up roadblocks in their relationship with God, detours that cause delay, potholes of pretending. It's the opposite of preparing the way of the Lord and making his paths straight! Once again, the people find themselves in the wilderness, knowing that the way into new life with God is through the waters of the Jordan.

We have a lot in common with these, our ancient ancestors in the faith. We, most of us, have crossed through another body of water – the waters of baptism – and through that gift, we have entered into God's new life. We too are people of a promise – and yet all too often, we fail to live into these promises. We forget the promises God has made to us – that we are God's beloved children, that God claims us as God's own now and forever, that we have a place in God's kingdom forever, and that we are called to be kingdom people, bringing God's reality to life in our world. We fail to live up to the promises made at our baptism, the promises we make for ourselves at confirmation or whenever we affirm our faith – promises to live out this relationship with God in the presence of God's people, promises to tell everyone what God has done, promises to serve one another, promises to work for justice and peace in our world. Just as hard as it can be to get off Long Island because of tolls and traffic and construction and accidents – that's how hard it can be for us to prepare the way of the Lord. The roadways of our lives are strewn with sin and sorrow, the wrecks of regrets and wrongs.

And so we hear, with the people of John the Baptizer's own time, John's call for us to come to the water, to seek God in the wilderness places of our lives, to trust that we will encounter there the Promised One who is more powerful that John himself. We hear his invitation to step down into the water, to pass through to the other side and re-enter God's promised land, the promise of a new life and a renewed relationship with the One who is always at work to redeem and restore and repair. The call is to prepare the way of the Lord, but the promise is that the Promised One is on the construction crew, patching up the potholes and widening the roads, clearing the debris. Despite our roadblocks and our detours, the One who is coming, the One we wait and watch for, is the one who made the map. He knows all the back roads and alternate routes. He will blaze a trail through the woods and ford the rivers if he has to. He is the One who makes a way when it seems there is no way, and nothing will stop him from coming to save us, even our selves. The promise is that he is coming whether we are ready or not, prepared for him or not – because the truth is that we'll never be 100% ready. But we return to the waters of baptism, we reclaim God's promises of forgiveness and mercy and grace, we renew our efforts to prepare our hearts and our lives, trusting in the One who is coming.

Amen.

November 27, 2011 - Advent 1

Watching and Waiting

Mark 13:24-37

Advent 1 – November 27, 2011

It's funny the things you remember. But every time I read this gospel passage, I remember a bookmark my Aunt Renie bought me a LONG time ago, back when I was in elementary school, I think. It was your standard bookmark, with a white background and a kind of yarn-y tassel, with a funny little cartoon figure on it. “Be alert!” it said. “The world needs all the lerts it can get.” A silly little bookmark, but it cracked me up. It still makes me smile, and I really can't help but think of that phrase when we hear Jesus say to his disciples in the middle of this passage, “Beware, keep alert!”

It's strange to start off the Advent season with a reading like this. It's the beginning of a new church year, with a different gospel as its focus, and we are all primed to hear stories leading up to the birth of Jesus. People are putting up their Christmas decorations and getting their Christmas cards ready to go, Christmas shopping (for many) has begun in earnest – and then whack! In comes this story, with Jesus as a full-grown man, nearing the end of his life, talking about “those days” when “the sun will be darkened and the moon will not give its light and the stars will be falling from heaven and the powers in the heavens will be shaken”. We hear Jesus encouraging his followers to “Beware, keep alert; for you do not know when the time will come... keep awake – for you do not know... And what I say to you, I say to all: Keep awake!” It's a bit more than we bargained for on this Sunday after Thanksgiving – so mysterious and dark and foreboding. There's such urgency in Jesus' words, an urgency that goes far beyond the Christmas countdown and making sure we are ready for the big day with presents and food and decorations and everything that has become such a part of our society's celebration of Jesus' birthday. “Wake up!” Jesus is saying. “There's more at stake here than the perfect presents and parties and pictures. Be alert!”

For early Christians, the ones who were the first to read Mark's gospel, this sense of urgency was palpable. It was a tangible part of their every day living. Jesus speaks of what sounds like the end of the world, and to them, it probably seemed like the end of the world was upon them. Rebellion against the Roman occupation was rising up, tension was in the air – and history tells us it ends with the Roman troops coming into Jerusalem, crushing the insurrection and destroying the Temple. The future was uncertain – what would happen next? Where could they turn? Mark, writing down these stories of Jesus as Christians had begun to face persecution and early eyewitnesses were beginning to die, frames this story to speak to them and their situation. And though they may seem frightening and dark to us, as with all apocalyptic writing, these words were intended to bring comfort and encouragement and hope to people in distress & living under oppression. They looked forward to Jesus' return – they hoped it would be soon.

We have a hard time hearing Mark's words that way. Sure, we've been through our fair share of struggles, and the past few years with all its economic turmoil have brought our own anxieties and uncertainty to the forefront of our minds more than we'd like, but for the most part, we live in security. We don't worry about being invaded. We kind of scoff at the idea of the end of the world &; the people who try to predict when it will happen – just this year, according to 1 group it was predicted twice: 1st in May and then in October. There were some folks who believed so strongly that Harold Camping was right that they sold all they had and went on a mission to convince others to get ready, working it out so that their last cent would be gone the day the end was to come. We can dismiss them as gullible or naive, but I kind of have to admire their conviction, their willingness to put their money where their mouth was.

But I don't really think that's what Jesus was getting at when he told his followers to keep alert and awake. It wasn't for them to go stand on street corners with “The end is near” signs hung around their neck. No, the call of Jesus, the call we hear every Advent, is to prepare, to get ready – not out of fear for the end of the world, but with joy that Christ will return. The reason we celebrate Christmas is that in Jesus, we see God coming near, God coming to be one of us. Jesus reveals the God who has already begun the hard work of redeeming God's whole creation, who is already actively working to reconcile the whole world with the divine self. We see in that baby in a manger whose birthday we are waiting for the love of a God who comes down to us, who intervenes in our messy, messed-up human history to set the world right. This God is not someone to be afraid of, and his return is not something to be worried about – it's something we should look forward to. And when we do, keeping awake becomes not so much a duty as something we can't avoid – like the little kids in that Disney commercial from I don't know how long ago, where the little boy goes into his sister's room. “Are you asleep?” he says. “No.” “What do you think it will be like?” “Mom says it will be even more magical this time...” And just then they are interrupted by their mom, who tries to shoo them off to bed, but the little boy just throws himself back on the bed, exclaiming, “We're too excited to sleep!”
“We're too excited to sleep!” - because we are longing for the day when Jesus will return, when the powers of this world – the powers of sin and death – will be destroyed once and for all, when hurts will be healed, and hope will be restored.

And so we wait, with eager longing. And while we wait, Jesus reminds us we have work to do, for, “It is like a man going on a journey, when he leaves home and puts his slaves in charge, each with his work, and commands the doorkeeper to be on the watch.” Engaged in our work in this world here and now, but always with our eyes open and our ears listening for signs of God on the move in this place, staying awake to witness the ways God is already among us, and then joining hands with the one who has called us into relationship, reaching out our other hand to a world desperate for some good news. So be alert. The world needs all the lerts it can get.

Amen.