Easter Sunday

Luke 24:1-12

We are here to celebrate Easter, the story of resurrection.  We’re expecting a story of victory: life over death. But at its heart, this is first a story of grief.  Before we can understand the message of life, we have to first understand death.  This may be a good year to begin with death, because many of us are grieving.  We’ve lost friends and family members.  We’ve lost the story about how life is supposed to unfold.  We’re afraid for what our future might hold.  We can touch the loss of death with more authenticity than we sometimes do in our busy and distracted lives.

Over the centuries the church has described Jesus’ death as God’s plan for salvation.  Because the world is broken and sinful, someone has to pay for what is wrong.  God sends Jesus to pay the price, fight the devil, overcome death, set us all free.  The death is a plan for good and God has everything under control.  There are some good messages in that explanation, but it’ s not the way the first Easter went down.  The only folks in control at that moment were the soldiers and the rulers appointed by Empire.  There was nothing good about them being in charge.

Jesus dies by crucifixion because Rome saw him as an insurrectionist.  We believe his “kingdom” was not of this world and wasn’t a military challenge to Rome.  But anyone talking about living under God and not Ceasar was a threat to Empire.  Anyone empowering the rabble to live with dignity was a threat.  Anyone feeding the hungry so they weren’t dependent on Roman charity was a threat.  Anyone drawing crowds and giving people hope was a threat.  Peasants who threatened Rome’s power in any way were crucified.  They were hung from crosses in public places so that everyone could see what happens to people who dare do anything but submit to Roman power.  Their deaths were common, they were excruciatingly long and painful, and they were meant to intimidate.

So what do we know about the women who went to find Jesus’ body early in the morning after the sabbath and the men who stayed behin?.  We know they were grieving.  They had witnessed the horrible death of a person who had transformed their lives.  We know they were intimidated.  They had no guarantees that they wouldn’t be next.  Often whole movements of people were crucified together, just to make a point.  We know they would have been remembering scenes from Jesus’ life and their lives with him.  We do that.  We remember and tell the stories.  It’s unusual that they were going to a grave, because most crucified bodies were dumped in large piles for the dogs and vultures to finish destroying them.  When they don’t find a body, it would have been natural for them to assume the gift of a tomb had been rescinded and Jesus’ body had been returned to the pile of those crucified with him.  That makes their loss even greater.  They have lost the ability to say goodbye with spices and ointments and tears. 

What they weren’t ready for was angels telling them the body had been resuscitated.  That Jesus was alive. That story only adds to their confusion.  They run to tell the men what they’ve seen, and even when the men come to see for themselves, they don’t understand.  They go home to mull it over and try to make sense of it.  We all know that fresh grief is not the best time to make sense of anything.

It’s a temptation for us to hear the Easter story and think, “Hooray!  God made everything better!”  Three days pass and everything is alright again, only in a new and unheard-of way.  Does that match with your experience of death and grief?  I’m thinking turning resurrection into a divine magical finale does a great disservice to the profound pain of the moment and the incredible hope it eventually becomes.  God didn’t just kiss Jesus’ wounded body and make it all better.  What God did was much more.  God entered into the pain of the disciples and the pain of the world and showed them how to walk into new life.  But making life new takes time and effort and all of us participate in the process.  Resurrection is a process, and it may have started on Easter, but we’re still in the thick of it today.

Resurrection begins with stories.  The disciples remembered the stories of Jesus – how he accepted the outcasts, healed those rejected by everyone, fed those hungry for bread, fed those hungry for hope.  They remembered how he taught them that the true power of God was love and the power of community was loving one another. They remembered how he was fearless and steadfast and believed so strongly in the possibility of life that he faced even death.  This week someone told me she didn’t believe in heaven, but she believed her husband who died years ago was still with her because she could feel him and hear him every day.  I believe that’s what the disciples came to know about Jesus; he was with them.  Someone I read this week says that’s a poor excuse for a resurrection.  I beg to differ.  I say it makes resurrection possible for everyone who’s ever lived and been loved by family and friends. 

The power of resurrection is what rose slowly among the disciples until they believed that Jesus wasn’t gone and the movement wasn’t over.  They remembered how he taught them to live and care for one another and they worked out together how to put it into practice.  They welcomed strangers into their homes.  They ate together and invited even the ones who didn’t have food to bring to the potluck.  They learned how to love each other, even when they disagreed or got on each other’s nerves. They stayed under the Roman radar and they created a kingdom of God among them that infected the whole world with love.

This kind of resurrection takes a lifetime or a couple of thousand years.  I want you to have a clear picture of how it grows from the heart out and is fed by the connections we find in community.  I hope you can see that we’re still living this resurrection into reality today.  That’s why we tell the stories of Jesus when we gather.  It’s why we tell the stories of heroes across the ages and those who live today.  We tell the stories of where we’ve been light in the world every week because it reminds us that there IS light in the world and we make it visible. 

Jesus’ disciples lived in a world in which there was no reason to hope and they found reasons to keep hope alive.  They lived in a world in which people were devalued and discounted and crucified and they learned to love each other and taught those around them to see the world through the eyes of love.  They lived in a world of abusive power and discovered a deep connection to an even greater power they called God which filled the universe and made new life possible.

We live in a world that’s much less certain than it was just a bit ago.  This world is asking us to devalue people who differ from us, to fear abusive power, to give up hope. Some folks want us to believe that it doesn’t matter if people are fed and illness healed, if children are embraced and those who struggle are lifted up.  There is reason to be intimidated.  But we don’t stand in this world alone.  We are a community built on the foundation of the faith of generations.  We are the next page in a long story that refuses to give up hope and insists on the power of love.  We are joined in creating new life by the power of God’s love which fills the universe and fills our hearts and will never leave us.  We know resurrection because we are living resurrection together.

Palm Sunday

Luke 19:28-40

We celebrate Palm Sunday every year as though it were Jesus’ coronation.  All our lives we have called Jesus “King” or “Lord” so we hear this story through that lens.  Palm Sunday is the day the crowds in Jerusalem crowned Jesus as king, choosing him over Rome to rule them.  Of course that’s not what happened.  It’s very likely the crowds welcomed Jesus to Jerusalem because they had heard about the miracles of healing he performed and the teaching that drew crowds.  But it’s not a coronation.  At the same moment the Roman legions would have been arriving on the other side of the city to keep order during the Passover festival.  They came with war horses and marching, heavily armed soldiers.  Jesus on his donkey with a few peasants armed with tree branches were not taking Rome’s power. 

The Pharisees knew this was true.  They tried to silence the crowd, knowing that their joy only endangered Jesus.  Rome wasn’t going to tolerate even the semblance of this upstart pretending to have power.  It was inevitable that he would soon die.  He may have bravely claimed that “even the stones” would acknowledge him, but Jesus was not about to overthrow Rome.

It's hard for us to hear this story through first century eyes.  We are used to people having choices about who is in charge of their world.  If Jesus represents a better way of living for the people, then we think it’s natural that they would rally for him and choose his leadership.  But first-century people had no power to make that choice.  Jesus’ teaching and his miracles could change the way they saw life, but none of them could change the Empire.

Centuries later Christianity named Jesus Lord and celebrated Christ the King Sunday, but only after the Empire endorsed this religion.  Jesus became King when the Empire merged itself with what they claimed was Jesus’ kingdom, not before.  Palm Sunday isn’t about Jesus winning or the Kingdom of God becoming the way the world works – at least not in any obvious ways.  The people who welcomed Jesus had no illusions that their world was going to change that day.  Except perhaps that it was never going to be the same

This year I’m inclined to think that Palm Sunday is about hope.  Often we think of hope as the belief that the world is going to change for the better.  We hope someone is going to get well.  We hope Congress will wake up.  We hope wars will end.  We tie that hope to real possibilities that these things will happen.  There will be the right medicine, the right speech delivered, the right negotiations.  We tie our hope to the real possibility of change happening.

The first century has something to teach us about hope.  They had no hope of the Empire changing.  Jesus had no hope of being in charge.  He had no hope of living through the next few days after what happened that day.  The realities were harsh and unrelenting.  But there was something about Jesus that still inspired hope.

He spoke of loving neighbors in a way that made folks believe they could do that.

He spoke of God’s love in a way that convinced people love was real.

He held a vision of the way the world could be that was so strong people could believe it.  Maybe they couldn’t change the world, but they could change the way they lived in the world.  That vision didn’t depend on probability.  Even if Jesus didn’t stand a chance, he still inspired them to see life in a new way, to treat each other in a new way. 

The kind of hope people found in the Jesus movement was the kind of hope that would let them believe that even someone who died might rise from the dead.  Even Rome’s crushing power couldn’t keep their spirits from rising up and their community from finding life in the midst of death.

This is a Palm Sunday gift to us.  Centuries ago people who lived under occupation and violence believed it matter how they treated one another.  People who lived under corrupt leaders believed they could be good and kind.  People who saw no way forward still formed communities that cared for each other and gathered in joy day by day. 

Their hope was in a vision Jesus called the reign of God, and it didn’t depend on the possibility of it coming true.  Instead, it was a way of life people could live in spite of what was happening around them.  In spite of horrors and struggle.  The Empire could control food and work and who lived and who died, but it couldn’t control how they loved one another, how they cared for each other, how they saw a bigger reality beyond the soldiers in their streets and the crosses on their hillsides. 

Palm Sunday crowds surely knew Jesus would die.  But hope told them he also would live.  A God-sized vision of goodness can’t be crucified. 

People who believe in the power of love can’t be crushed.
Hope rises again. 
And a world that can’t be changed, changes. 

Fifth Sunday in Lent

John 12:1-8

As John tells this story, Jesus has traveled almost to Jerusalem.  He’s staying in Bethany with some of his closest friends and supporters – Lazarus, Mary and Martha.  The disciples who accompanied him had gathered in this home.  It would have been crowded because homes were small and the group travelling with Jesus at that point was relatively large.  They were all tired from long hours interacting with crowds and long days journeying across the countryside.  They were stressed because Jesus was headed toward Jerusalem, the seat of power and the garrisons of Roman soldiers.  Jesus had attracted the attention of both the Roman and religious leaders and none of them liked him.  They thought he was a troublemaker.  In those days in Jerusalem trouble makers were crucified.

That evening they had dinner together, like they often had.  It must have been a weighty occasion.  Like the last time you visit a dear relative who is terminally ill.  The last time you gather before the oldest child moves across country.  We can remember similar occasions in our lives and get a sense of how they felt.  Glad to be together and worried about tomorrow.  On edge.  Exhausted.

To mark that occasion Mary, one of the hosts of this party, not only washes the feet of Jesus, the guest.  She covers them with costly, sweet-smelling ointment and wipes them wither hair.  There’s no way to see that act but as an incredibly intimate, personal moment.  It was Mary showing Jesus how much he mattered to her; how he had changed her life.  It could have been any one of them expressing their love, but it was Mary.  Judas objected.  It was an extravagant excess in a time when so many were near starvation.  John explains it as a foreshadowing of Jesus’ death and of Judas’ betrayal.  But I think it’s okay for us not to explain it at all.  It was one friend showing another how much she cared.  Jesus was willing to take it at that, and to be grateful.

This is the one message I want you to hear in this story:  we all deserve care.  We all deserve people in our lives who tell us how much we matter to them and who do extravagantly kind things for us just because.  I want us to take a minute to remember what that feels like.  To remember a time someone gave you the gift of comfort and connection because you matter. … Moments like that are a gift, and we all need them to carry us through the pivot points of our lives.

Many of us are feeling like we’re living in a moment that demands that we do something to fix things.  We need to fix our country.  We need to fix the world.  We need to fix poverty and illness and division and you name it.  It can be a heavy burden.  We can be exhausted and discouraged.  When live seems bigger than you can manage, remember even Jesus let Mary rub his feet just for a little while.  Jesus and his friends stopped to have a dinner party just before his last big moment of ministry.  You can’t work all the time.

It's common these days to analyze almost everything, so we talk about how we give and receive love.  Gary Chapman wrote The Five Love Languages to help people communicate what makes them feel loved and to consider how they say, “I love you.”  That’s a worthwhile endeavor.  What makes you feel loved and cherished?  Quality time?  Acts of service?  A gold watch?

It's also good for us to think about how we most like to show love.  I want to cook dinner or sew a quilt.  What do you want to do for people?

In a time when there’s lots of talk about what’s broken, it’s good for all of us to think about how we give and receive love.  Jesus and his friends shared dinner and a pound of nard.  What are we doing to care for each other in these days?

Please hear clearly:
                  You deserve love and compassion and comfort.
                  You can give love and compassion and comfort.

No matter how confusing or frustrating or even dangerous our times, acts of love and compassion and comfort matter. They are, I believe, holy moments. We are intended to share them because they will sustain us all.

Fourth Sunday in lent

Luke15:1-3, 11b-32

This story tells us everything we need to know about how the world works when we live by God’s vision.  Everyone welcome all the time.  The people who heard Jesus tell this story would have been horrified at the younger son’s behavior.  They may well have known someone who acted that way, but they still would have been horrified.  The son dishonored the father by asking for his inheritance and by squandering it on wine, women and song.  He clearly showed his family that he had no love for them.  He only wanted the money and high times and in a far off place.  How heart-broken the father must have been, first that money mattered more than family, and then that he had no word about his son’s well-being for probably years. 

 How does he react?  He gives the son what he asks for and then he waits for him to come home.  We know he waits because he was watching for the son, seeing him while he’s still far down the road.  He had to be watching to see him so soon.  Every day for years, watching and hoping the son would be back.

The son is well-rehearsed, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and you…” but he doesn’t get to give the speech he’d been repeating mile by mile.  He’s bathed and given new clothing and honored with a ring and a feast.  Everyone celebrates.  What do we learn from that?  People matter.  For the father, the son mattered more than the insult he’d given.  He never mentions the pain of their parting.  The son matters more than logical consequences.  He doesn’t say, “You can come back as a hired hand.  Move to the barn.”  The son matters more than the rules.  He doesn’t say, “Have you learned your lesson?    You can work but there’s no more inheritance for you.  I’ll draw up the contracts.”  The father simply says, “Let’s have a party and celebrate.”

This parable is called the prodigal son, after the son who blew his inheritance.  It’s also sometimes called the forgiving father, because forgiveness is at the heart of the story.  Forgiveness puts the relationship between father and son first – before consequences, before payback.  There is no retribution here.  People matter.  Relationships matter.  Did they have a lot to talk over and work through the next day?  Probably.  But that’s not where the father started.  He began with “Welcome home!”

These days we hear a lot about how the world should work, and much of it feels a little off to me.  I’m not sure how to explain how God wants people to be valued and how I want people to connect with each other.  This story is a gift in that regard.  Here it is clearly laid out for us:  Welcome! 

                  You didn’t come from here?  Welcome!
                  You didn’t finish school?  Welcome!
                  You’ve made some bad choices and struggle with addiction?  Welcome!
                  You can’t afford health care?  Welcome!
                  You’re behind in your rent?  Welcome!
                  You’ve been in jail? Welcome!
                  You worship on Friday?  Welcome!
                  You joined the young Republicans?  Welcome!
                  You don’t fit the President’s abbreviated genders? Welcome!
                  You can’t tell a joke or carry a tune?  Welcome!

Come right on in.  You matter to us.  We’ll figure out the hard stuff later.

The older brother isn’t having any of this, you’ll note.  He’s been keeping track.  With his brother gone he did twice the work.  He’s been reliable and responsible.  The father OWES him.  Where’s his party?  He’s not having any of this forgiveness stuff.  He’s pouting on the porch.  What he really wants is retribution.  Give the guy what he deserves…nothing!  Make him pay.  Make him earn his way back into the family.  Make him grovel.

Much of the time the world is on the older brother’s side.  But it doesn't have to be.  This isn’t a long history of how a family heals after trauma.  It’s not a record of therapy which helps them learn to trust each other again.  It’s not the whole story of how they rebuild relationships.  It’s a starting point.  What we need more than anything is better starting points.  We need to say to each other, “You matter.”  Then we can put things together so they work.

When we give funds through the community fund, we don’t say to people, “Live any way you want, we’ll pay for it.”  We expect them to have a case worker and a plan for becoming independent, working, paying their way.  But first we say, “You matter.  We’ll give you a better starting place.”

We have a broken immigration system in this country.  There’s not much energy for saying, “Everyone can be here, no matter what.”  But it is possible to say, “You matter.  You’ve been my neighbor.  Let’s figure out how we move forward.”

The news is full of folks wanting to divide us.  Some countries are free-loaders.  Some people are lazy.  Let’s throw them all out and keep what’s ours.  If they hurt me, they have to pay!  Here’s the story that shows us another way.  First we connect.  Then we work things out.  Most of all we say to strangers, to those who are different, to you and to me:  Welcome home!

Third Sunday in Lent

Luke 13:1-9 

Today’s scripture reminds me that every sermon should come with a disclaimer:  I don’t know what this means.  It’s good to remind ourselves that Jesus lived 2000 years ago in a very different time and place from ours.  The stories about his life were written down decades after they happened by people who weren’t eyewitnesses and who also lived in a very different time and place from ours.  When we come to think about these stories, we aren’t asking so much, “What did Jesus mean?” as we’re asking, “What meaning can this hold for us?”  So that’s my disclaimer.  I’ll take a stab at this one and you decide if any of it hold meaning for you. 

This scripture refers to a news story of the day:  Pilate had ordered the murder of some Galileans, presumably while they were making sacrifices in the Temple, or perhaps during sacrifices in a Roman temple.  It’s a gruesome story.  People are asking why the victims deserved such treatment?  What had they done wrong to be punished by God in this way?  Remember the people with the question were first-century people.  This was a time before significant scientific discovery and people of all religions believed there were gods in charge of all aspects of life who micromanaged events according to some godly principle or perhaps some godly whim.  The question is why would the Galileans’ God, who was also Jesus’ God, let this happen?   

Jesus is clear that he sees the story behind this story differently.  He’s not interested in why these folks deserved such horrible treatment, but he is interested in everyone, including those who came with the question, living in a different way.  Repent means to turn around and live differently.  Unless you repent, you will die like they did.  Unless your change, the world won’t change. 

We sometimes hear this same question when disasters come in our time.  We could name a lot of disasters:  the destruction of 9/11, numerous wars, catastrophic storms, plane crashes.  Why does God let these things happen?  Do you remember after Hurricane Katrina when some preachers declared God was punishing the riotous lifestyle of New Orleans by storm?  They thought they were quoting Jesus, but here Jesus is clearly saying, “Don’t worry about what they did wrong; look at yourselves and how you’re living.”  Disaster is perhaps a reminder that life is fragile, and we choose every day to value living.  Or not. 

Jesus doesn’t seem to me to be interested in placing blame or explaining God’s control of the world.  I’m tempted to say God didn’t appear to be in control of the world in the first century, or for that matter the twenty-first century.  There were and are daily disasters.  If God would fix them, why aren’t they fixed?  Is God allowing disaster as punishment?  Many of the victims seem innocent of crime and undeserving of capital punishment by violence.  Or perhaps we can say right out loud that God is not micromanaging Life.  That what happens to us for good or ill is not the direct cause of God choosing our life story for us.  The events of our lives are not the will or the whim of God.  

Then what good is God?  I’m convinced that God permeates every part of the fabric of Life.  But what benefit do we get from that if God isn’t intervening on our behalf and we’re still subject to illness and tragedy?  If God isn’t bringing us good, what good is God? Here are three gifts of God which matter to me in the face of the horrors of life on earth:  vision, grief, and inspiration. 

Let’s start with vision.  Jesus was convinced that God has a vision for what life can be that’s quite different from the way humans have chosen to live it throughout history.  The prophet Micah spoke that vision aloud and Jesus knew his words well:  Do justice, love kindness, walk humbly with God.  Follow that vision and the world is a better place.  It’s a good summary of Jesus’ own teaching, inviting people to repent or turn around in their behavior and live in just and caring communities.  There are millions of people who have claimed to live by Jesus’ teaching across the centuries, and a few of them actually practiced his vision.  Just because it isn’t widely implemented doesn’t mean it can’t give us hope.  I choose to believe that justice, kindness and humble community are still possible, and we’d all do better if we lived by those principles. 

Second, I believe God gives us the gift of God’s own grief at the traumas and tragedies of life.  If God holds a vision for goodness, then surely God grieves as much as we do when people hurt, life is ended, and the earth and communities are torn.  Sometimes when the unspeakable happens we just need someone to agree that the only response is grief.  We need someone to share our sadness and to join in our tears.  We need a companion to walk with us when our world falls apart and to give us time and space for healing.  God does that. 

Third, we need inspiration and encouragement to change the way the world works so that everyone benefits.  There will always be risk in living, and many authors have reminded us that without risk, life would be lifeless, boring, maybe even meaningless.  What’s the fun of succeeding beyond our wildest dreams if there’s no risk of failure?  In the 2000 years since Jesus, God has inspired people to make significant improvements in reducing the risks of life.  The people surrounding Jesus that day couldn’t imagine vaccines which eliminate deadly diseases, or modern agriculture that can feed billions.  Since that time life has been enriched by art and architecture and music.  Science explains many things and questions many more.  They were injured by falling towers and we are protected by building codes and stronger materials.  They were at the mercy of weather and we have complex warning systems.    I’m pretty discouraged these days by what’s broken in our world, and it’s good to remember what isn’t broken. We are the beneficiaries of so much good.  Human ingenuity is pretty amazing, and I believe God plays a part in that. 

Luke pairs this story with the story of the fig tree.  Its owner is angry that it’s not bearing fruit and is ready to get rid of it, but the worker holds out hope.  A little cultivation, some well-placed manure – maybe it will do better.  Maybe the most important gift of God is hope.  There’s a lot of repentance needed from a lot of folks, but there’s still hope.  At the same time disaster threatens, there are people who believe in justice, who practice kindness, and who are working every day to create a better world and a more humble community.  God is in the heart of that, joining us in the effort.   If you want a better world, do justice, love kindness, walk humbly because God walks with us. 

Second Sunday in Lent

Luke 13:31-35

Early in the first century Jesus began his ministry by talking with people about God and healing those who were ill or disabled.  Over time people began to pay attention.  They would gather when he came to their village or even travel into the countryside to see what he would do and hear what he had to say.  He was popular because he could heal diseases, straighten crooked feet, cast out demons (which meant calm mental illness) and do some showing things.  People who had a physical problem wanted to be made well.  Those who didn’t, wanted to see the show.  Jesus wanted to help people, so he welcomed the crowds.

We often think of the Pharisees as his enemies, but some men who belonged to that group of religious leaders had sympathy for what he was doing and some surely agreed with how he thought about God.  The Pharisees were the reformers of their day, the ones pushing for religious change, and some of them liked what they heard when Jesus talked.  So, wanting to be helpful, some come to him and encourage him to be more careful.  Herod the local ruler has taken notice, and in an Empire, notice is not a good thing.  It’s better to keep your head down, talk in smaller groups, and not draw attention.  This is particularly true because Jesus is challenging the status quo.  He’s challenging the way those who are rich are exploiting the masses, demanding high taxes and heavy workloads.  He’s challenging the way religious leaders are gaining power by enabling Empire’s violence, encouraging people to go along with harsh rules to keep relative peace. Jesus is telling people that God is love and those who truly follow God watch out for each other, feed the hungry, level economic opportunity.  It’s a disruptive message.  I’m sure Jesus wasn’t surprised to hear the Pharisees’ words of caution.  He has to have known he was causing trouble.

It's interesting that Jesus refuses to be silenced.  His reply:  I have work to do and I’m going to keep on doing it.  Jesus claims the role of prophet – speaking God’s truth to a moment in history which isn’t going God’s way.  He’s taking on the authorities and daring them to arrest or kill him.  We know how that ends.  In essence, Jesus is refusing to be afraid of what might happen because what IS happening in his ministry is too important to give up.  He has a clear mandate to speak about God’s way of living, and he keeps at it.

Last week we talked about Jesus in the desert, preparing for this ministry.  I’m sure he asked himself, “If I do this, what will happen to me?  If I speak out, will I be the next one arrested and crucified?”  Knowing what we know about his time, the answer must have been “Yes.”  When we hear Jesus’ message, we can be certain that he saw it as so important it was worth dying for.

It's interesting to think about Jesus’ fearless response in this particular moment in time.  Every day I talk to people who are afraid.  Some are afraid of losing their jobs or of having their jobs become harder as government workforce shrinks.  Some are afraid that important research they are doing or service they are giving will simply end.  We don’t know what happens next.  Will our friends be deported?  Will children lose their teachers?  Will cancer research not find the next cure?  Will the next pandemic not be addressed?  Will protest be silenced?  Things that seemed impossible to imagine not long ago suddenly seem quite possible and dangerous.  What do we do?

Jesus answered the danger by doing what mattered most to him:  he healed people, he accepted people, he talked about God’s love.  We can follow that example.  Yes, the world is a bit upside down, but we can keep teaching, keep befriending, keep driving carpools.  Every week we help the people in front of us in ways that we can.  The need may grow in the months ahead, but we can keep doing the part that comes to us, doing what we can. 

Jesus knew there was danger ahead, but he focused on the moment.  He taught the people who came that day.  He healed the ones in front of him.  He connected with his friends and welcomed newcomers and ate supper at the end of the day.  He prayed and rested.  Then he did it again.  It’s very easy right now for us to borrow trouble thinking about “what if….?”  Jesus tells us not to worry about tomorrow; focus on today.  Do what we can today.  That’s something we can do. 

And I love the image at the end of today’s story, Jesus thinking about going to Jerusalem, to the seat of power, and gathering the people into his arms.  Gathering folks into safety like a mother hen.  There’s a time to confront abusive power – to look it square in the face and call it out.  This is such a time.  But at the same time, we can trust that God is gathering us together and holding us close.  God is wrapping strong arms around us, hiding us under protective wings.  Some didn’t allow Jesus to gather them, but those who did received comfort and care.  Jesus faced death because he wanted us to know that we were loved.  God loves us.  The world can be scary, but God is with us.  There’s hard work to be done.  There are brave words that need speaking.  God is with us in the work and the word.  We are not alone.  We are God’s people. We are in this together and God is leading the way.

Here's a verse of a song that has been important to me for 50 years –

                  Be not afraid. I go before you always.
                  Come, follow me, and I will give you rest.

First Sunday in Lent

Luke 4:1-13

I want to start today on Ash Wednesday.  Marking Ash Wednesday with ashes and a reminder of our mortality isn’t deeply ingrained in our practice, nor is the idea of “giving something up” for Lent.  I’m not fond of the idea of spending a season focused on guilt and inadequacy, which I know is an exaggeration of the theme but also present in many observations.  But this Ash Wednesday in my annual crabbiness I read a bit by Diana Butler Bass that seemed more hopeful than usual, and I want to share it with you.  Part of it follows:

“On this Ash Wednesday, my heart is broken and every shred of hope I once had is gone.

I’m not well. My soul is sick. I see nothing but greed, destruction, lying, inhumanity, and evil all around.  If anyone tells me that I came from ash and will return to it, I may well laugh in their face. Or cry and never stop. I just hope I don’t hit the priest. Because — read the room, people — we’re standing in ash up to our knees.  This is a brutal Ash Wednesday.

There. I said it.

“I’ve prayed so much in recent months that I can’t tell you how much I’ve prayed. Literally face on the ground sobbing prayer. I’ve taken cues from Anne Lamott’s famous dictum that there are three kinds of prayer — help, thanks, and wow — by occasionally yelling (I’m not kidding) “Help, help, help!” in a loud voice when we sit down for dinner…

In short, the last thing I want or need right now is Lent. I’m nearly Lent-ed out already. I’ve been Lenting for months.  Honestly, I’ve got questions for God. Like: Why? Why is this happening? Why don’t you stop this? What kind of God would allow these amoral, corrupt men to purposefully hurt and destroy the good work, dignity, and lives of so many truly decent people?  I’m making a lot of noise down here praying and fasting and you, God, don’t seem to be doing your part.”

Butler Bass goes on to describe that day’s scripture from Isaiah in which the people of Israel said essentially the same thing:  God, we’re in a shit show down here and you don’t seem to be fixing it.  She suggests that the prophet’s reply turned the focus on the people, asking what they were doing to help others rather than just fasting and calling out to God.

 “Historian Amy Oden describes it thus, ‘The fasting acceptable to God is a daily fast from domination, blaming others, evil speech, self-satisfaction, entitlement and blindness to one’s privilege. The fast that God seeks calls for vigilance for justice and generosity day in and day out.’”

If you remove the yoke from among you,
the pointing of the finger, the speaking of evil,
if you offer your food to the hungry
and satisfy the needs of the afflicted,
then your light shall rise in the darkness
and your gloom be like the noonday.  (Isaiah)

If you want the kind of world that matches the goodness of God, become the kind of world that matches the goodness of God.

 I wanted to start with Butler Bass because I think the questions she’s asking and the questions the ancient people of Israel were asking, are the same questions Jesus is confronting in the story of his temptation.  After he is baptized, Jesus goes on retreat for 40 days (which is the biblical way of saying “a long time”).  He goes to the desert.  That’s partly because he lived in a land surrounded by desert.  Because the desert is always there nearby, it carries significance.  The desert is a place of desolation and dryness, representing the dryness of despair and wandering.  It’s a place of solitude, where you can focus without distraction.  The desert is a place where you go to get ready for important things – like conquering the promised land under Joshua or beginning a world-changing ministry.  Over the centuries the people were used to hearing the voice of God when they were in the desert.

Jesus had important questions he was wrestling with.  His world was a mess.  Rome was enforcing power through violence.  Most people were hungry while a few grew richer every day.  Religious leaders claimed the blessing of God while ignoring God’s justice and advancing their own interests.  Things were broken and he wanted to fix them.  Sound familiar?  But how does a peasant from a village make a difference in the world?  He needed clarity.

 The devil in this story represents some of the options he had to consider.  Jesus believed God wanted him to do something, but what was the ethical and effective way to do it?  He had some power and influence already from his teaching and from knowing how to heal.  Should he use it to influence the masses?  After fasting, he was hungry and wanted bread.  The people were hungry.  He could organize a feeding mission.  Most of those close to starvation were given grain for bread by Rome.  He could provide bread, challenge Rome and get the people’s attention.  They would love him for it.  But his vision was about more than bread or popularity.

Should he challenge the power of Empire more directly?  There were plenty of insurrectionists ready to form an army.  Over the years there had been brief times when revolution had worked.  Maybe it could work again.  If he were Emperor, or even governor of Judea, he could make important changes to help everyone.  But his vision was about more than military power.

Should he wrap himself in the cloak of religion to gain some protection?  He had impressed some of the religious scholars in the temple.  Maybe he should just preach and quote the prophets, changing some minds and giving people some comfort, but not rock the boat too much.  It would be a slow process, but relatively safe and the people might feel better.  But his vision was about more than soothing people with pious words and promises.

In the end Jesus becomes the teacher who brings hope to the peasants by sharing God’s vision for the world – justice for everyone, mercy for everyone, food and shelter for everyone, healing for everyone, peace for everyone.  How does it happen?  Love your neighbor.  Love your enemy.  Share your bread and your coat.  Forgive.  After considering all the ways he could become the leader of a new movement to reform the world, Jesus chose to put that movement in the hands of the people.  If you want the world to be just and merciful, be just and merciful.  If you want people to be fed, feed them.  If you want people to be well, heal them.  If you want the reign of God to come among you, live like it’s already here. He was reminding them of what the prophets had said for generations.  Then he showed them how to do it, and two thousand years later, we’re still following his example.

I’ve been trying to figure out what Lent is about this year for months and I’m not much closer than when I started, so we’re going to have to figure it out together. 

One part of it is about dryness and despair.  We live in hard times and it’s therapeutic to say that out loud. This lent we’ll take some time to name what’s broken, what frightens us, to name those people who are being hurt by power right now.  We’ll do that during our prayer time and we’ll light the prayer candles in the little bit of the desert Victoria has brought to us on our altar.

Another part of Lent is asking important questions.  Jesus did that.  When you’re not sure what to do next, it’s helpful to do nothing for a bit and focus on what matters.  Each week I’ll give you a question you can think about if you choose.  Or you can substitute a question that matters more to you.  This is a good time for clarifying what we care about and what we can and can’t do.  I’ll print the question in the bulletin, send them in the weekly email, and put them in the description of the livestream.  Use them if they are helpful to you.

Finally, Lent is about resting in the presence of God.  We’re pretty good at looking for the light of God around us.  Let’s keep it up.  Let’s celebrate the goodness we see in each other and in each day.  Let’s watch for God sending us opportunities to do our part for a better world.  Let’s listen for God’s words of encouragement in music and art and friends.  When you have a suggestion for something else that would be helpful, let’s do that too.  We’re making this up as we go.  I think that’s what Jesus did as well.  Start here, see what happens, trust God for the rest. 

Last Sunday after Epiphany

Luke 6:43-49

Today we’ve come to the end of this year’s season of Epiphany.  This is the last time we’ll light the lanterns on our altar which have guided us since Advent, helping us find our way in the world.  Epiphany is the season of seeing clearly, of recognizing what matters and naming it out loud.  In this season Christians say to the world, “In the teachings of Jesus we find light for everyone.”  Many of us were taught that Jesus is the only way to truth and goodness, and many of us have learned enough about the many religions of the world to know that’s not true.  There were a whole lot of Christians last month testifying to the ND legislature that it was unwise to name Jesus King of the state.  We have much more respect for freedom of religion than that.  (And besides, we’re pretty sure that “King of the State” isn’t really a thing.)

We can be in favor of freedom of religion and at the same time say out loud that Jesus’ teachings are one good way for people to live.  The values we find in Jesus’ stories are true values for all of life.  There is light in them, whether or not we claim that as the only light.  There is truth in the ways that Jesus encourages us to live with one another and relate to our communities, our government and the world. 

Today’s teaching has Jesus explaining to us that the values we put at the heart of our living matter.  A good tree bears good fruit and a bad tree bears bad fruit.  What’s inside a person comes out for better or for worse.  Most of us have days when our good side shows up and at least moments when the bad side wakes up.  When we’re tired or hungry or disappointed or hurt, every one of us has the potential for saying mean things, thinking mean thoughts, lashing out in ways we regret.  That very human reality isn’t what Jesus means when he talks about bad fruit.  You can have a bad day and not be a bad person.  Part of becoming an adult is learning how to go back and ask for forgiveness, make amends, learn from mistakes, do better the next time. 

There’s a difference between having a bad moment that contradicts our usual values and adopting the kind of priorities that cause lasting harm in the world.  Jesus talks about the difference in values and beliefs with his parable of the houses.  When you build a house, you want to do the work to build on solid ground – deep footings, strong foundations, built to endure.  It’s easier to just level off the sand and slap up the walls.

But that kind of structure isn’t going to withstand a flood or a hurricane or an earthquake?  If you want something that lasts, you have to build it well.

 We’re living in a moment in time when we’re confronted every day with choices about what our values will be.  What world view will we adopt that describes how we see other people and how we build community?  What will we teach our children and grandchildren?  How will we do business?  What rules will we live by?  It’s pretty easy to spend lots of energy describing what’s broken.  We can point fingers and say, “not that or that.”  The most egregious “not that’s” are playing over and over on TV right now, so we can’t possibly forget.  I don’t know about you, but I don’t need another list of what’s broken right now.  So let’s build a stronger list of what’s good and true.  I’ll start, and you can help me finish…

TRUTH – If we’re going to build a strong foundation of character, truth is a good beginning.  We revere George Washington who is rumored to have said at an early age, “I cannot tell a lie.”  We can commit to finding facts and sticking with them.  Are there shades of opinion in complicated situations?  Of course!  That’s why conversation is important, so we can discover what is most true and explore nuance.  It’s tricky to fact-check ourselves before we pass information along, but we can do it.  When we commit to truth, we have a foundation for trust among us.

RESPECT – Strong communities grow when we respect each other.  When I think of the biblical stories of Jesus interacting with others, respect is always present.  He respected people others overlooked, like the beggar beside the road or the woman from another country.  He respected religious leaders, even when he disagreed with them or challenged them to change their minds about something.  He respected the potential in everyone he met, believing that they had value and something to contribute to the whole.  Respect connects us with other people.  It asks us to stop a minute before we make snap judgments and invite a stranger to share their story.  It reminds us that every person has expertise about something, everyone has overcome one hardship or another, everyone has gifts to share.  We can treat people with respect, and we can insist that so long as we’re present, others will do the same.

LOVE – In every situation one question serves as a guideline for decision making:  What would love do?  Of course there many circumstances to consider:  finances, time, preferences.  But there’s only one bottom line…What would love do?  We will often encounter people making decisions for other reasons, but we’re not other people.  We can choose love.

Now it’s your turn.  What other bedrock values guide your living?  What matters most to you?

When we are firm in our intention to live by our values, we bear good fruit.  Strong values make for strong community. It makes a difference in our own lives and in the world around us.  First we decide for ourselves, and we help each other stick to that decision when the going gets hard.  We’re in this together.

Because we are living in this moment in time in this place, we have the ability to influence others.  Some of us are calling or writing legislators.  Some are meeting in solidarity with friends who commit to justice.  Some are just a quiet presence about town.  I have one friend who’s an expert at gently saying to someone, “Help me understand why you think that way?”  Sometimes that kind of conversation begins to change a mind.

You are probably familiar with the concept of grounding.  It’s the feeling you get when it’s finally warm enough to stay outside a while and put your feet on the ground and your heart in nature.  It’s a solid kind of feeling that gives us hope that there’s something right in the world.  Grounding is the deep breath you take before you speak, while you’re rejecting the first three things that pop into your mind and finding a gentler response.  Grounding is finding strength to say “yes” to a hard ask because you know there will be strength to back you up; and it’s finding strength to say “no” when that’s a better answer.  Grounding comes from practicing your values over and over until they become not your second nature but your first response.  It’s good fruit.  Jesus lived a grounded life, and with his example, we can too.  Strong foundations, good fruit, joyful lives.

Seventh Sunday after Epiphany

Luke 6:27-38

When I was a little girl, I was lucky to have a family that went to church every Sunday, and lucky that the church they chose was often on the cutting edge of justice and global mission and putting the love of Jesus into practice.  I’m thinking about that church this week because of the verse at the end of our scripture.  Every Sunday when it was time for the offering, our pastor would quote this verse:  Give and it will be given to you.  A good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap, for the measure you give will be the measure you get back.  I want to report honestly that to my ten-year-old mind this verse was never proven to be true.  I dutifully put my offering envelope into the plate every Sunday – an envelope divided in half, holding a nickel on the side marked “for the church” and a nickel on the side marked “for mission.”  I knew that our congregation’s goal was to give away to the world an amount equal to what they kept for heat and lights and kid’s programs and salaries.  I knew that I was supposed to tithe because we were from a tithing family, tracing back to my grandparents, and I was smart enough to know that 2 nickels was actually 40% of my quarter allowance, which some days gave me unseemly pride. Every Sunday the envelope went into the plate, and no money ever came back. 

Now I know that what I received in return wasn’t a cash transaction, it was formation – a deep understanding of what it means to be part of God’s world that’s seeped into my bones and shapes who I have become.  I wasn’t about what I did and what I received in return, it was about who I am and who we are all meant to be.  Today’s entire scripture isn’t about what we do and what reward we receive; it’s about being, beyond words to describe, the presence of God in the world.  It’s about being love, because God IS love.

Love your enemies and do good to those who hate you; bless those who curse you; pray for those who mistreat you…If someone strikes you on the cheek, turn the other.  If someone steals your coat, give them the shirt off you back.  These are things Jesus was suggesting people do.  We could see them as a code of conduct.  Scholars tell us they may be much more. If a soldier patrolling your town abused you by slapping you, they would do so with the back of their hand.  It was a sign of derision, someone in power belittling someone with no power.  Those standing nearby might laugh.  But if that person stood up again and turned the other cheek, daring the soldier to strike again, it would require a slap with the open palm.  That’s the kind of blow exchanged by equals.  Offering that other cheek gives the peasant the same dignity as the soldier.  It’s a blow accepted by choice, which demands recognition as a fellow human.  Even inviting the blow is a victory of sorts.  In the same way soldiers could require the coat of anyone passing by and must have often enough that this story sounded familiar to those listening.  Jesus suggests that giving up not only your coat but then offering your shirt makes the giving a choice and not a requirement.  It expresses generosity in the face of derision.  And it gets the soldier in trouble for exceeding what could be asked.  It bestows dignity on the giver and takes it from the abuser.  Jesus is perhaps advocating nonviolent protest, changing the power dynamic in the village just a bit.

The Empire counted on those whose lands were occupied being afraid of what the soldiers might do.  Fear was a means of control.  But if you are determined to love rather than to be afraid, you take back your autonomy.  When Jesus says “love your enemy,” he isn’t talking about squishy emotions.  He’s not talking about welcoming abuse in any form.  Instead he’s teaching people that the essence of their being, their God-given nature, is love.  Love is who you are, and no soldier or Empire can take that away from you unless you give it up to them.  One of the greatest gifts God gives to us is the image of God within us – God who IS love.  When we choose to live from that image, to be love in the world, we are replacing the external world and all its rulers with the heart of creation, the reign of God, the world as God shows us it can be.

Right now the powers that control our world want us to be afraid.  They want us to be confused by countless illegal and immoral actions that seem to take away our agency.  The want us to worry that our identity will be stolen, our friends deported, our funding frozen, our research censored, our future changed beyond recognition.  Those things may or may not happen to us.  But we still get to choose who we are and how we will respond.  Jesus encourages us to respond with love, generosity, and mercy, because when we show those qualities we are standing up for who we are, and no one can take that away unless we let them.

Yesterday Krista Tippet quoted a story from Naomi Remen told by her Jewish grandfather.  It’s about Tikkun Olam, the privilege of being the co-creators of the world.  In the beginning, when God created all that is, God took the power of love, the power of light, and broke it into a million, million pieces.  Then God places within each person, each creature, each bit of beauty in the world, a piece of that light.  And with the light of God hidden within everything that is, God asked us to find the light.  Watch for the light in your neighbor, in your school or workplace, in your garden, in your country.  And when you see the light, call it forward so it can shine.  When you see the light and name it, you are completing the creation that God began and bringing this moment in time one bit closer to the goodness that God intends.  When you name the light, you are uncovering the presence of Love and giving it power to overcome all that hurts or destroys.

This is a holy task, gifted to each one of us and to all of us together.  Some days it’s too much to ask that we as individuals find the power to love those who are causing harm.  To love an unruly child, a difficult coworker, a bully, a person of influence who remains silent and allows hatred or intolerance a voice, a government bent on doing harm to those most vulnerable.  That’s why we stand together, so that when it’s too much for one of us, we have friends to help.  We can take turns, seeing and naming light, so that we don’t give up hope.  We believe that the light is still present and we can trust it as we trust each other.  It’s a happy accident that we have put in the heart of our worship a time to name light.  How lucky we are that we have that practice to sustain us.

I’ll admit that there are days I feel discouraged, almost defeated, certainly crabby and unloving.  Thank you for holding me up and holding me accountable in those days.  I hope I can do the same for you.  Please remember – you are the light of the world; you are the love of God made flesh in this moment in time.  Jesus has shown us how to live with hope and joy in the face of hardship.  He has shown us how to encourage each other and to believe that there is always more light, a new life, a better tomorrow.  It’s not always possible to feel kindly toward those who are causing harm, but it is possible to love them because we ARE love.  And when we allow the light of love to show through us, no matter how dim, we are creating a new world, God’s world, and we are holding the light of hope for everyone.

Religious & Science Sunday

The Clergy Letter Project is an endeavor designed to demonstrate that religion and science can be compatible and to elevate the quality of the debate of this issue. The Clergy Letter Project has released this statement explaining the importance of religion, science, truth, diversity, and inclusion in modern society.

Clergy United in Diversity: The Power and Importance of Respecting Human Dignity

Communities are stronger, and the individuals within those communities are healthier, both physically and spiritually, when people are not needlessly pitted against one another. Clergy Letter Project members represent religious leaders from many faith traditions. Although we do not always agree with each other, our traditions all adhere to the Golden Rule. We listen to each other and we treat each other with respect.

Values central to the mission of The Clergy Letter Project are respect for truth, for science, for diverse faith traditions, and for the dignity of all persons.

The thousands of religious leaders, from a broad array of religious traditions, who comprise The Clergy Letter Project urge individuals in our country, especially those who hold political power, to think carefully about how their actions may be divisive and harmful.

The Value of Human Dignity: The Clergy Letter Project has regularly spoken out forcefully, from both religious and scientific perspectives, about how all human beings are worthy of respect and fair treatment, how we are all part of one species, and how attempts to divide us are counterproductive and immoral. Respect for human dignity means that all individuals, regardless of their place of birth, their sexuality, their gender identity, their race, their class, or their ethnicity should be valued. The diversity arising from these differences enriches our communities, makes us stronger, and should be celebrated rather than denigrated.

The Value of Truth: Both religion and science recognize and promote the pursuit of truth as a foundational value for all their endeavors. While politics is often not the best place to find truth, lack of respect for truth and the constant use of deception to advance a political agenda must be recognized and rejected. While we might differ on policy, we should be able to have civil and meaningful conversations about those differences. To do so, however, we must agree that basic facts are distinct from opinions.

The Value of Science: The Clergy Letter Project recognizes that the knowledge provided by scientists has transformed society and will continue to do so if we respect the scientific process. Vaccines, for example, including those designed to combat Covid-19, have saved millions of lives and have reduced untold amounts of suffering worldwide. Attacking the scientists performing this critical work is both counterproductive and dangerous. Similarly, the scientists studying climate change and providing us with both warnings about what the future might bring and suggestions for actions to avert the worst of those possible futures, should be honored and respected rather than abused and disparaged. Scientific education should neither be censored nor replaced by or paired with religious dogma; both must retain their individual and distinct identities.

The Value of Religion: Members of The Clergy Letter Project value the individual and collective wisdom of our religious traditions. We affirm the meaning those traditions bring to the lives of so many individuals, the good they can deliver to communities, the spiritual enrichment they may yield, and the awe they inspire. Respect for different religious traditions is a core tenet of members of The Clergy Letter Project. When religious leaders are attacked, demeaned, and disrespected for promoting mercy, forgiveness, respect, and tolerance by political leaders, the damage inflicted goes well beyond what is experienced by one individual. The meaning of religion itself is belittled, and our broader social fabric is unraveled.

Members of The Clergy Letter Project urge the American people in general and our political leaders in particular to consider how any actions that censor good science, render some individuals invisible, and spread messages of hate in place of love, work to destroy our communities, harm the most vulnerable among us, forsake our most precious shared values, and force a significant portion of the population to live in fear. Members urge everyone to think carefully about their actions as well as their words, and to be guided by both civility and humility. We believe that if we were to make full use of the combined power of religion and science, we could create a fairer, greener, healthier, more humane, and more truthful world. Members believe that, as a nation, we can and should be on a better path to advance these goals. Our faiths demand that we try to move in that direction.

More information about The Clergy Letter Project, including a list of the thousands of clergy who have signed our Clergy Letters, can be found at www.theclergyletterproject.org

Fifth Sunday after Epiphany

Luke 5:17-26

In this season of Epiphany, we’re remembering that Jesus is light for the whole world.  The Gospel of Luke is helping us remember stories about Jesus that explain why those who knew him saw him as light.  Today we learn that when Jesus was teaching, people crowded in to hear him.  Yesterday at the ND Human Rights Coalition meeting we had to add tables twice to accommodate the people who wanted to be there.  When there’s good news going around, it attracts people.

Part of the reason the room was so crowded was that the religious leaders in the area had heard that Jesus was talking about God.  That was their portfolio, and they had come to see if he was getting it right.  This week one of our church members posted the long list of words people with federal research grants were no longer allowed to use in their publications. It seems the same to me – big brother checking on whether or not you are saying banned words.  Jesus knew they were there to catch him in a mistake, but he kept teaching anyway.

While Jesus was talking, some people came carrying their friend on a stretcher.  They had heard that Jesus had the power to make people well, and they wanted their friend to have a chance at that healing.  They couldn’t get in the door, which tells you something about how interested people were in what Jesus had to say.  These friends took the steps up to the roof, dismantled it a bit by setting tiles aside, and lowered their friend’s stretcher right in front of Jesus. Imagine, just for a minute, what a disruption that was.  It has to have taken a while for them to accomplish this, and people must have noticed.  Jesus didn’t say, “Stop interrupting me!”  He had compassion for the man, waited until he was in front of him, and said, “Your sins are forgiven.” 

“Your sins are forgiven” doesn’t make much sense to us, but to the crowd it made perfect sense.  There was wide-spread belief that if someone was ill, had a disability, or suffered a setback in life, it was because they or their family had done something wrong and God was punishing them.  There’s another story where Jesus is asked about someone who was blind, “Who sinned to make this person blind?”  His answer then is no one.  That’s not how it works.  But here he goes along with what everyone is thinking to give this man some relief:  Your sins are forgiven.  He’s upsetting the common assumption that God wants harm for this man and replacing it with forgiveness and mercy.

At that moment, the visiting religious leaders sprang into action:  You can’t forgive sins!  Only God can forgive, and clearly God hasn’t because this man can’t walk.  They are telling Jesus that he can’t change the status quo and tell the people about God’s love and compassion.  They want to control the people by telling them about God’s rules.  Don’t break the rules or God will get you!  Jesus isn’t having it.  Okay, if you don’t want me to tell him about forgiveness, I’ll just heal his paralysis.  “Get up and walk home,” he tells the man.  And that’s what happens.  I suspect people made way for him to walk out the door.  Maybe there was plenty of room because those who challenged Jesus were quietly slinking away.   

I know that I’m supposed to be able to tell you what all this means, but you’re out of luck.  I can’t explain ho this man was able to walk away.  Maybe being relieved of the burden of past mistakes did it.  Worry and health are connected.  I’m convinced that I have shingles because I’m worried about all the people the current administration is hurting.  Maybe forgiveness set this man free to walk.  Or maybe it was a miraculous healing we no longer understand.  At any rate, it’s a good story.  Jesus takes on the religious leaders and this man gets healed in the process.

There are a lot of people wanting to tell us who God is and what God wants these days.  For instance, JD Vance has explained that God wants us to care about our family and then our neighbors and then our country and then the world.  Jesus clearly says we’re to love everyone, not in layers.  Diana Butler Bass cautions us not to listen to people who try to co-opt Jesus for current political movements, but to stick with Jesus as the Bible reveals him to us.  Clearly Jesus upset the status quo in favor of those at the margins.  He didn’t much care about preserving the status quo in favor of the wealthy.  And those in power were not pleased with his influence with the people.

Again, Diana BB tells a story of a friend who years ago was working to organize workers in central America and attending a Bible study after hours.  The passage for the night was the story of the rich young ruler who asks Jesus how to enter the kingdom of heaven.  Jesus tells him to sell everything, give the money to the poor, and follow him.  The American missionary explains to the group that this means we should value Jesus above other ideas, and he’s met with stunned silence.  Later he asks a friend what he said wrong and is told, “The group isn’t sure you can be part of this Bible study because you clearly don’t believe Jesus.

Jesus’ teachings are revolutionary.  They favor the least among us.  They challenge us to do more to help others.  When leaders tell us God wants to help the rich, they are wrong and we need to call them out.

I also am intrigued by the friends who bring the man who is paralyzed to see Jesus.  They dismantle a house to get him in front of this new teacher who can cure what’s wrong with him and give him a new life.  They go to great lengths to help a friend.  Right now we all need that kind of friend.  We need to be that kind of friend to the refugee community who are in danger.  We need to be that kind of friend to those who are losing jobs because of layoffs or impoundment.  We need to be that kind of friend to those who are facing discrimination in ways we thought had ended.

And we need people to be a friend to us.  We need friends who will stand with us as we stand up to new rules that hurt people.  We need friends who will watch the Super Bowl with us to give us a break.  Friends who will tell us a joke and remind us that there is still good in the world, even if good isn’t in charge right now.  We have made a commitment to each other to follow Jesus, to act with love, to believe in the possibility of change and the power of hope.  We can commit to lifting each other up, taking turns seeing the light in the darkness.  We are learning together who Jesus was and who he is and what it means to follow him.  Sometimes that means we can stand up and walk, even when we never believed we could.  Sometimes that means our friends help us learn to walk in new ways and walk with us.

Fourth Sunday after the Epiphany

Luke 5:1-11

Today’s scripture is a fishing story.  Some of you are fisher folk.  Sometimes you go fishing and catch your limit.  Sometimes you go and there’s nary a bite.  You enjoy the scenery, the quiet, and the break from your usual routine, but you don’t catch fish.  That’s more or less OK if fishing isn’t your business.   But for Simon and James and John and the others in this story, fishing was their business.  It’s not OK to fish all night and catch nothing.  Empty boats don’t pay the bills.

It was probably a nice distraction from their discouragement when the teacher Jesus asked to borrow a boat.  Jesus spent some time, maybe an hour? teaching the folks who had gathered to see this new fellow, following in the footsteps of John the baptizer.  He had something to say, and the fishermen listened with one ear while they cleaned their nets, removing weeds they had caught overnight.  They were not in a hurry because there weren’t any fish to take to market.  What did they hear?  Luke doesn’t say, so we fill in with teachings from other stories:

• If a soldier asks you to carry a pack a mile, go two.

• If your neighbor is hungry, give him bread.

• You matter more to God than the birds flying by or the sheep on the hillside, and they are completely cared for.  So don’t worry.

• God intends for you to be well.

• You are God’s light in this world.

It was a nice message, a hopeful message.  It didn’t pay the bills either.

When Jesus was winding down, Simon got ready to take his boat back and clean it, too.  Instead, Jesus said, “Row out to the deep and put down your nets.” They had fished all night.  The nets were newly clean and folded, and it was time to rest.  Simon had no interest in trying again that day.  He was done.  But there was the crowd, and he didn’t want to offend the new teacher, so out they went.  They threw the nets.  There were more fish than they had ever seen.  They called in the second boat of reinforcements and even that could hardly hold the catch.

The whole experience brings Simon to his knees.  “I don’t know who you are, but if you are from God, be merciful to me.”  (And if you are from some other power, please don’t hurt me!) 

 Luke uses this story to explain how Jesus called men to become his disciples, his apprentices and assistants in the movement he was launching.  “You’ll be fishing for men, next.”  Tradition explains that it’s our job to help Jesus “catch” people to be his believers.  The expectations are set high; our signup genius should overflow like their boats.  It’s true that these men who once fished, became disciples.  What’s not clear is why.  If the miracle you need is a big catch of fish and Jesus gives you that, you don’t stop fishing.  You invite him to stay with you, rather than going with him.  But Simon falling on his knees gives us a clue that what really impressed him wasn’t the fish, it was the way Jesus took his falling-apart life and filled it right up with hope.  It was the message that he’d overheard when he was half listening, that God was up to something in this ordinary life that was extraordinary.  Something worth paying attention to; something worth signing up for.

Most of the time sermons aren’t written, they’re found.  This week I found this sermon while we were bagging macaroni at the food bank.  Nell and I were putting ingredient labels on bags of macaroni, which doesn’t take much concentration, so we could talk about how things are.  She correctly noted that aside from this macaroni, life is pretty hard right now.  People we care about are afraid.  Crazy hurtful things are all over the news – and that doesn’t count two plane crashes.  I realized that the reason nothing productive has been crossed off my to-do list in two weeks is that I’m pretty much paralyzed by things going haywire and completely out of control. It gives us pause. Then for some reason I saw all those fish from the scripture, more and more of them pouring into the nets until there were more than enough for everyone.  After that amazing success, why does everyone stop fishing and go with Jesus?  I suspect their reaction wasn’t about fish.  It was about being in the presence of someone who comes along side you when life is its most discouraging and reminds you that there is so much more.

What we need more than anything right now is to get in touch with Jesus’ message that the universe in on our side and the bullies don’t have the last word.  There are still fish in the lake and there is still hope in the world.

What does that hope look like?

It looks like connection.  Remember the story.  There are the fishermen working on the shore.  There are folks who’ve come looking for the new teacher.  There’s Jesus who sits offshore in the boat and talks to people about life and finding goodness in it.  There’s Simon who shares his boat and Jesus who shares where he sees fish schooling.  None of that fixes what’s wrong with the first century, but they are all in it together.

There’s lots of talk these days about how divided we are.  How we can’t trust one another.  How this idea or that one is ending the world as we know it.  How strangers are dangerous, and family might turn you in, or your coworker might report that you said something inclusive last week.  Here’s the truth.  We are all in this together.  We are, at the very heart of our being, interconnected.  We breathe the same air.  We live one Life. Scientists tell us that the individual trees of the forest are connected underground across their root systems so that they function as one being.  No one lives alone.  We are entwined with one another. 

Jesus invited people into community and the nature of that community is abundance.  The fish filled the net.  Their joy overflowed.  When we recognize our connection to one another, we reconnect with the heart of God, who is good, who is life, who is all.  We get tired and wrung out and discouraged, but there is a deep well of love waiting to fill us up again.  Folks may try to tell us to grab onto what’s ours because someone is trying to take it away from us, but the truth is there’s more than enough.  There’s enough food, enough work, enough joy, enough love, enough hope.  When we share it, it multiplies; it never divides.  Jesus said, “Come with me,” and together they provided for each other and shared with everyone else.  Jesus is still saying, “Stick with me” and in him we find abundance.

And most of all we find love.  There are plenty of folks wanting us to believe that the world is broken.  That kindness is weakness.  That cruelty is going to have the last say.  Here’s why people followed Jesus and why they stayed with him:  love.  Here’s why even when they killed him, those who knew him best believed he was still alive and with them:  love.  There are a lot of hard things happening in our world and even harder things happening around this world, but at its core, Life remains rooted and grounded in love.  Nothing can take love away if you don’t let it.

Jesus’ followers lived in the first century trauma AND they lived immersed in God’s love. They lived in villages controlled by Rome AND they lived in communities that practiced love.  They lived in the Roman Empire AND they lived in the Kingdom of God, who is love. 

 This is the gift God is going to give us today and every day:
People to stand with us
Hope to pour over us
Strength sufficient for each moment’s need, and a bit extra to share with a friend.
Love stronger than any power to hurt or divide.

This is the season of Epiphany when we celebrate the light that Jesus brought into the world.  It’s the light that people saw in him and through him that changed the way they saw their world.  It’s the light that keeps shining  through the ups and downs of history and right into this moment.

This is what we know:  Light shines in darkness and darkness cannot overcome it.

Third Sunday after the Epiphany

Luke 4:14-21

This has been a week of speeches and announcements and decrees in our country, so when I sat down to put this sermon on paper, it struck me that Jesus’ words could be seen as an inaugural address.  He’s in his home town, with his supporters, who have come to hear their boy talk about what he’s going to do.  They are cheering him on.  They wonder what he’s going to say.

He gets to choose the scripture.  That’s a powerful privilege.  He chooses Isaiah, “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me.”  At face value, that’s a powerful claim.  God’s Spirit is with me.  I want you to remember, please, that every one of you could say the same thing.  God’s Spirit is with you, with all of us, every day.  Every morning we could and should ask ourselves, what will God do in me and through me today? 

 Here's what Jesus sees as God’s work in his life:  bring good news to the poor, proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind.  Set free the oppressed and proclaim that this is the time of God’s favor.  Notice, it’s not about him.  It’s all about how God is going to do good things for the most marginalized people through him.  I suspect that you can measure the most authentic spiritual leaders by the folks they hang out with – the marginalized.  We have many wonderful Jesus stories about how he went to these folk on the edges and brought them hope – healing, food, connection, freedom.

The people in Nazareth, we learn, weren’t all that impressed with Jesus’ mission statement.  They wanted to know what was in it for them, what miracles would he work in his home town?  Even though they lived on the margins they didn’t see a need to reach out to those even worse off than they were.  Why not do something impressive?  Bring fame and fortune?  Don’t waste this moment on those at the bottom of the barrel.

There are passages of scripture where I struggle to understand what Jesus is saying.  This isn’t one of them.  He’s crystal clear about the people who are the focus of God’s favor and about how God shows up in our world.  Notice he doesn’t say, “God has saved me so that I can bring in the golden age of prosperity for you.”  There are no billionaires behind him on the platform.  There’s no reason for anyone to be afraid of what might come next.   This is good news for everyone, beginning with those least accustomed to news being good.  Everyone is invited to come along for the ride, so long as they remember the focus:  God is lifting up the least and so lifting up us all.

This week Bishop Mariann Edgar Budde stood in the tradition of Jesus when she asked those in power to recognize the ways their actions could harm others and to have mercy on those who were vulnerable and frightened.  We aren’t surprised that her words fell on deaf ears.  Today the Catholic bishops in the United States joined her in pointing out how this week’s executive orders are harming people.  They got a similar response.  It’s important that people of faith, that’s us, keep living by Jesus’ plan and calling out those who pretend to have God on their side while harming others.  It’s a little overwhelming, with a lot to pay attention to in Washington and Bismarck and St. Paul and here at home. Jesus shows us how to do it …one person at a time.  One act of kindness at a time.  He never made phone calls to legislators, but maybe one phone call at a time.  There’s a ND bill to post the 10 commandments in every classroom so that people who might “do something wrong” will know what God is demanding of them.  Here’s what God expects of us in the words of Micah:  do justice, love kindness, walk humbly with God.  In the words of Jesus:  proclaim good news to the poor.  It’s our privilege as people of faith to keep the focus where God puts the focus – on those longing to hear the good news that God cares about them through people who care about them.

It's easy to be overwhelmed  by the fire hose of actions harming people right now.  We have to help each other remember that there is so much good also happening.  This is our Annual Meeting day, when we remember what Family of God has done in the past year and look forward to what’s to come.  That’s a story about caring for God’s children day by day.  I want us to take a few minutes to say out loud some of the things we’ve done together, and some that each one of you has done on your own, to make this community better and to share God’s love….

Jesus says to his neighbors, “Today, this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”  We are celebrating the ways God’s love has been made real, here and now, through small acts of generosity and kindness.  Well done!

Second Sunday after the Epiphany

John 2:1-11

We’re in the season of Epiphany when we celebrate the many ways that Jesus, his teaching and his living, are light to the world.  We’ve left our Advent lanterns on the altar to remind us that the light of God shows us the way in our journey through life.  People who knew Jesus in the first century believed that God’s light was clearly visible in him, and they told stories about how and why they came to believe he was The Way – creating a new community of people who lived under God’s rule in spite of also living under Roman Empire.

Today’s story comes from the Gospel of John.  John’s gospel was the last one written of the four which are in our scriptures.  That gave him the advantage of perspective over time.  It meant that the meaning of Jesus has been considered by many different groups of his followers by the time John wrote about it.  It also removes him somewhat from the immediacy of Jesus’ life.  Our life stories improve over time, and John’s Jesus stories were refined to make his point about Jesus’ importance.  John’s gospel is organized around fewer, longer stories from Jesus’ life, each one being a “sign” that Jesus is the Messiah, the founder of God’s new reign among the people.  The story of the wedding at Cana is the first “sign.”  Its purpose is to show that Jesus was able to work miracles because he had great power given by God. 

John wants us to believe in the power of Jesus, so he shows him doing powerful things.  He turns water into wine – a skill many people have longed for over the centuries.  In many stories John shows that Jesus has authority and power over the natural world, able to heal, cast out demons and manipulate reality (water into wine) because he wants people to know that Jesus has more power and authority than the Empire.  The Empire is in charge of people’s external world, but behind the scenes, Jesus and God are really in charge. John is writing in a time before much scientific discovery when people thought most of what happened in the natural world happened at the whims of the gods.  When we hear miracle stories, we are scientifically skeptical in ways they were not.   These stories aren’t about HOW Jesus was able to do these things.  They were about his power to change life.

So we need to hear these stories mystically, not scientifically.  How can we identify with the power Jesus wields in this story?   How does “real life” Jesus give us hope as we read this particular story about his life?

This Jesus lives in relationship.  He’s gone to the multi-day wedding celebration of a friend.  He brought his friends – his new disciples – with him.  His family is there.  He gets irritated with his mother for asking him to fix the wine problem, and for assuming he’ll do it, even when he said he would not.  And then he does.  This feels like real family.  How much do we love all our relatives, and how irritating can they be at times?  Remember that John’s audience was people who followed Jesus in the first century who formed family groups.  They ate together, talked about life together, looked out for each other.  They took turns bringing the wine for dinner.  This story reminds us that there’s strength in community.  Jesus connected people and he still connects people today.  We gather because we share a commitment to his teaching and his way of living.  There’s power in the people together.

This Jesus knew how to have a good time.  He came to the party.  He made great wine to keep the party going.  This story probably isn’t about drinking gallons of wine, but it is about finding joy in being together.  It’s about celebrating milestones – weddings, births, new houses, finding lost coins and lost sons.  Jesus people in the first century lived hard lives, but that didn’t keep them from having a good time together.  Jesus is in favor of joy, wherever you can find it.  Just being together is a good place to find joy.

This Jesus worked with what he had.  There wasn’t wine, but there were six big jars standing empty.  He told the people standing around to fill them up.  That was a big job, drawing that much water from the village well.  It took time and they had to work together.  When they were done with all that work, whatever was in those jars, water or wine, would have tasted cool and cold and sweet.  A friend of mine in Seattle used to say whenever we had coffee, “Toothpicks and water is a feast among friends.”  You take what you’ve got and you enjoy it.  These days we’re inclined to think any new idea needs to become a program, find grant funding, meet goals and objectives.  I like it when Jesus’ people just do things with what they’ve got because something needs to be done.  Family of God is good at that.  It’s one of my favorite things about us.

This Jesus believed that God was at the heart of everything good that was happening.  If friends gathered for a wedding, God was with them.  If they found more wine, God helped them.  If someone needed healing or feeding or loving, God was in that healing and feeding and loving.  The people who followed Jesus also believed that God was in the thick of whatever they were able to do for one another.  That’s a good way to see the world.  Yes, there’s much that’s broken, but God is stirring the pot to bring healing through the community.  When we care for each other, God is in the caring.  When we help strangers, God is in the helping.  When we extend welcome or encouragement or compassion, God is in that.

John wants us to know that Jesus matters as much, even more, than Empire. People experienced the difference Jesus made by coming together in community and caring for each other in the way he showed them to care. It changed their lives and it changed their world. It still is. We are the Family of God and Jesus is in the heart of our life together. With him, we are bringing the love of God to heal the world.

Baptism of our Lord

Luke 3:7-17, 21-22

In every moment in time there are people who are satisfied with the way the world is working and those who aren’t.  That’s true in our time.  It was true in our parents’ and grandparents’ time.  It was true in the first century when John was preaching at the Jordan, outside of Jerusalem. Today’s Bible story is about what some people did to express their longing for a better way for the world to work.

John was a preacher.  In the day before streaming services and social media, preachers were good entertainment.  When I worked for the Presbyterians, I’d hear stories about Harvey Ambrose, their pastor in the 1920’s, who was a member of the Klan and preached controversial sermons.  Folks from all the churches in town would go to his Sunday evening services to hear what he was up to.  He was entertainment.  John also preached controversial sermons, although not in alignment with the Klan.  He was preaching in opposition to Roman occupiers and those who were getting rich from supporting the occupation.  The Empire made life difficult for the peasants who did the work that made others wealthy.  Some people wanted to stage a revolution and get rid of Rome.  John advocated a different kind of revolution – one of kindness and watching out for each other, which made life better in spite of occupation.

John stood in contrast to the religious leaders of the day, who advocated going along to get along.  He called out people who used position or power to make their own lives easier at the expense of others.  He asked people to change.  Share your extra cloak, feed those without enough food, don’t use your work to extort bribes from people who can’t afford to pay.  John was preaching about a religious movement that manifested in social behavior – taking care of one another in community and living by the values religion once stood for: compassion, honesty, peace.  He drew crowds not just because he was interesting to see and hear but because his message gave people hope that life could be better.

John used a common custom of the day as an initiation rite into his new way of living.  Baptism/washing.  The Jewish people had many religious rites which involved washing – washing hands, washing your whole body, washing to convert to Judaism.  The society also had many customs that revolved around washing – public baths, bathing together to celebrate new beginnings (a new business, a new child).  Their land was dry and dusty and people walked everywhere they went.  Hospitality involved washing guests’ feet to welcome them.  The Westar Institute scholars have suggested that John’s baptism in the Jordan River was a direct affront to the beautiful Roman baths of the cities.  In this slow, dirty river, people claimed their heritage (it was their river) and spurned what the Empire had built.  They came out from Jerusalem, a seat of power, to meet John in the countryside and sign on to his peasants’ movement, rejecting the power and violence of Empire and pledging to live in a new way that lifted up those Rome was pushing down. 

People wanted to know if John was the Messiah, the One God would send to overthrow Rome.  No, he said, that’s not me.  It will take someone greater than I am to accomplish that.  Then the story tells us that Jesus came to be baptized.  He was coming because he was drawn to John’s preaching and his emerging movement.  He shared John’s vision for a better way for people to live.  He too believed that God was doing something quite different than the empty rituals and power grabs of the religious leaders.  He’s baptized as a sign that he’s turning his life over to this new way of being.  He’s signing on to what John is doing, and not long after, John is arrested and Jesus becomes the leader of the movement.  He becomes the preacher everyone comes to see.

Our heritage is in this baptism John started in the first century and also in millions of baptisms performed by the church in two millennia since.  We come to this story in both ways.  This story falls every year on the first Sunday after Epiphany, which puts it at the beginning of a new year.  New Year’s is our time for resolutions, for evaluating what’s worked in the past and what hasn’t, and setting intentions for new directions.  It helps us resonate with the folks drawn to John because they wanted a better way to live.   We’re reminded that baptism represents a turning point, a commitment to new directions.  It focuses our attention on values we receive from God, that can be put into practice in our daily living.  With those who came to the Jordan, we commit ourselves to being the community of God’s people and living in a way that lifts up those the world pushes down.  Thinking in terms of the Epiphany theme of light, we become the light of God in the world and commit to shining that light so that those who need it most can see it.

The second strand of this story highlights God’s word to Jesus as he comes up out of the water.  He receives the Spirit of God and is told, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”  He not only accepts a new way of living from his own initiative, he’s empowered by God to live out that new life.  He gets energy and inspiration and help to put this new life into practice.  All that begins with being loved.

Over the years baptism became the sign of God’s love and the initiation into God’s community, the Church. The theology of centuries shifted it from being a commitment to live in a new way to being forgiven and accepted by God.  Sometimes that shift looks like forgiveness no matter what you do which guarantees a heavenly future.  Most of us come from traditions that baptize infants, so we have no memory of baptism and we certainly didn’t choose it as a sign of how we would live.  It’s far removed from what John and his followers were up to; and it’s not.  Here is the connection:  God says, “You are my beloved.”  Those are words not just spoken by a Hollywood voice to Jesus, but to each and everyone.  You are God’s beloved!

The Presbyterian baptismal service in its current rendition includes these words near the end:  See what love God has for us that we should be called children of God, for that is who we are!  That is the reality I want every one of you to hear and remember.  You are the beloved child of God.  God is pouring love into you and all over you and over everything you do.  The true challenge to the power of Empire is the power of love – and that love-power is God.  You are forgiven, not because you are baptized, but because you are loved.  You are connected to God, not because you get everything in life right, but because God is love.  This world can change, not because of revolution, but because at its very core it is made of love, God love. 

Love is the essence of life.  Love is who we are.  Because there are a lot of things that happen that aren’t loving, it can be hard to remember this core truth.  Anger and frustration and politics and fires and lots of distractions make it hard, but it is always possible to love.  You are able to love this world and its people because at your very core lives a God who is love.  This story, and the stories of our own baptisms, invite us to claim that reality of our being – love. 

And then it connects us in community, gives us the teachings of Jesus, which we’re going to read every week.  Gives us the love and forgiveness we extend to each other.  Gives us God-power and God-hope when it’s hard.  Each day is a new beginning in which we can commit to doing the most loving things we can.  To sharing what we can.  To standing beside each other in support of God’s values and God’s way of living.  To bringing the reign of God into reality in our moment.  You are invited to be the light and the love of God in this time and this place.  Let’s do it, let’s be it, together.

Epiphany

Matthew 2:1-12

Today we celebrate Epiphany with the beloved story of the sages who travel from the east to find a newborn king.  They are astrologers and the stars told them of the royal birth.  Of course they went to Jerusalem first because you find a king in the capital. But the folks there were unaware and didn’t welcome the news.  Herod clearly wasn’t as tuned in to the prophecy about God planning regime change as others, like Mary was in last week’s scripture.  He had to ask where this birth might have taken place.  Even as he sends the visitors on to Bethlehem, he’s plotting to eliminate his competition.

This is a great story!  We add it to the long list of great stories of the Bible with questionable historical accuracy.  But accuracy isn’t the point of this story.  It’s put into Matthew’s Gospel near the end of the first century, written to Jewish people after Jerusalem had been restored.  So the proper question about this story isn’t, “Did it really happen?” but “Why is Matthew telling us this?” Matthew is using this story to make important points about Jesus.  What are they?

The answer to that question leads us to the Epiphany themes.  These are themes of light and global significance. 

Jesus is light.  A bright star shines at his birth, big enough to be seen across the world.  We use the metaphor of light to talk about insight and truth, enlightenment and transformation.  The people who followed Jesus literally “saw the light.”  We’ve talked often about how the first century was a dark time for those who lived it.  Jesus brought light to that darkness.

The light is for the whole world.  These scholars traveled over many months to search for something special that the starts foretold.  They came to Judea, but this birth wasn’t meant for just the people of Israel.  Matthew wants us to know that Jesus impacted the whole world.  By the time he wrote his gospel, Jews were living in every corner of the Empire, some by choice and some because they had been sent into exile by violence or sold as slaves.  When he writes to the Jewish people about the birth of the Messiah, he’s writing to people who live every known place.  He’s telling them that God is doing something earth-changing in all places, not just in the homeland.  This birth is for everyone.

The new king has been born and his rule is established.  Herod tries to end this challenge by ending the child’s life, but he’s thwarted – by the scholars who don’t give him the information he wants, by Mary and Joseph who hide the child in Egypt and then in Nazareth, by people who refuse to cooperate with the schemes of the powerful.  Jesus lives! He grows up to become a great rabbi/prophet and to teach the people about God in new and amazing ways.

We are going to celebrate Epiphany for the next 2 months, and we’ll be talking a lot about these themes.  About light and globalization.  The teachings of Jesus challenge the powerful and scatter the darkness of Empire.  They are for the world.  Many countries have Christians aligned with national parties that focus on patriotism for a single nation.  Epiphany reminds us that Jesus is for the world, crossing boundaries, reaching everyone.

I was thinking about this story this Advent when Diana Butler Bass posted a new song on her website about this story.  It expanded the way I thought about these scholars and I wanted to share it with you.  So Chris is going to sing it for us.  (For those reading this sermon, here are the words…)

Chorus:  Spirit take us home, take us home by another way,
Take us long way ‘round the tyrants and their schemes.
Give us strength to walk, show us dreams of a better day,
And we’ll pave the way with justice going home by another way.

The mountains and the hills laid low, the rough places made plain,
The tyrants thrown down from their thrones ‘til only love remains.  (Chorus)
No offerings for billionaires to make them richer still
Bring all your frankincense and myrrh that the hungry may be filled.  (Chorus)

So when the Proud Boys and the Klan ask where the Christ child lies
Just tell ‘em that you’ll let them know next time you’re passing by (Chorus)

So, when things get tough and feet are tired we’ll know it’ll be okay
‘cause we’ll pave the way with justice going home by another way.

Until I heard this song, I never thought of the sages being part of a resistance movement.  They declined to fill Herod in on the child, finding another way home.  And perhaps that saved his life, giving him a chance to grow up, giving us a chance to know about his teaching.  Theirs was a silent resistance that protected the light of the world.

We’ve learned much about the first century Jesus followers recently.  They lived under a cruel Empire with no open resistance possible.  But they formed communities that followed Jesus’ teachings about love and caring for one another.  In the face of Empire, they chose to live another way.  It was their resistance.  It became a hidden kingdom, hiding in plain sight, saying “no” to the evil of their day.  

Folks in our time are wondering about rulers and power in many countries, including ours.  We wonder what’s next for us.  There are rumors that immigrants and human rights and income equality may not be as important as we would like them to be.  We don’t know.  It strikes me that we may have opportunity to follow the lead of these scholars who simply took a different route home.  They weren’t confrontational; they just didn’t play by the rules of the powerful.  They found a different way.

This week we have been confronted as a church by some of the harsh realities of our time as we were asked to help one of “our” social workers help a young man without documentation.  She’s helping him file an asylum claim.  He can’t work legally.  He was assaulted at the mission and is afraid to stay in an open shelter.  He can’t sleep outside.  She found him a coat.  We bought him a phone so he can be in contact with helpers.  Homeless Helpers paid for a hotel room, and then we’ve paid for more nights.  The truth is, there’s no good solution.  We can’t support him for months until he can work.  If he’s deported, he’ll die.  If he doesn’t have shelter here, he’ll die.  He’s just one of many who need more help than we can give or our city can give.  So we just keep at it a day at a time.  We don’t know what resisting quietly in place means for us tomorrow.

But the resistance isn’t the whole story.  The story of Epiphany is of light.  The scholars came to see the infant Jesus.  The stars prompted them to find something new that was happening.  Like so many who met this one, their lives were changed.  They went home not just by a different route, but as new people.  When we come face-to-face with Jesus through his story and through his community, we too become new people.

Some friends of mine who live in Florida sent me a Christmas card that came this week.  They summed up what I was feeling better than I can, so I share their words with you…

This is the season we celebrate Glad Tidings as Jesus came with the good news that God loves you and there is nothing you can do about it!  Jesus had Good News that God cares about the marginalized who were oppressed by religious folks who called them unclean, for those oppressed by the landlord/serf economy, and the oppression of the imperial politics of his time.  Jesus started a good news movement for the transformation of God’s people to become the Beautiful Incarnational Community.  As we begin a new year, let us have courage to be instruments of God’s peace when violence hovers, and to show grace and love to those marginalized, excluded, and endangered.

Let us have the courage to find a different way.

First Sunday after Christmas

Luke 1:45-55

This sermon starts with bits of information, I think of them as strands that we’ll weave together before we’re done, like making macrame from individual strings. 

The first is prophecy.  Nell and Neil have been helping us remember important prophets for Israel during Advent.  Today’s scripture reminds us that Mary, mother of Jesus, knew those prophecies.  They weren’t just nice words that warmed the Christmas season for her.  They were the serious promise that although her world was broken in devastating ways, God still had plans for good for God’s people.  She knew those prophecies deep in her heart and she believed they predicted a time when God was going to remake her reality and lift up those who were struggling.  They shaped who she was and how she thought about life.

The second strand is the Virgin Birth part of the story.  That part isn’t about biology, it’s about politics.  First century folk believed in multiple gods who controlled all the aspects of daily life.  In addition to ruling earth from heaven, these gods often took human form and interacted with people.  Some of those interactions resulted in divine-human offspring, who had superpowers.  When a new Roman emperor was chosen, soon after a story would circulate about how he was the son of a human mother and a god who gave him the right to rule the empire.  The story of Jesus’ birth isn’t told in the earliest gospels.  It appears in Matthew and Luke which were written after Rome conquered Jerusalem.  At that moment there was no hope of Israel throwing off Roman rule and establishing a kingdom, but those who believed in Jesus’ way say his kingdom as a way of living in opposition to Rome from within the empire.  Their communities were resistance movements that weren’t military but were still committed to a better way of life for everyone – the fulfillment of the prophecy in a hidden kingdom Jesus ruled.  So, Jesus also has a story of virginal birth, equating him in importance and power with the emperor.  He too had a divine mandate to rule.

The third strand picks up the biology of that story.  Mary bearing God’s child is a sweet story that folks repeat especially at Christmas.  For some the biology of it is offputting.  Jesus can’t be a baby boy without an X and a Y chromosome and the only way we know to have both is physical, not spiritual.  In the first century everyone who had a virgin birth story also had a human father.  People didn’t understand the science and the stories were about importance, not about physical methodology.  For emperors, both their human and divine fathers were true.  Those who told these stories didn’t see them as contradictory and they didn’t have the either/or choice we have today – believe it or not choice.  Scholars who understand the importance of the story of Jesus being divine also help us understand the reality of Mary’s life.  She is a young girl in Nazareth, a city 4 miles from the new Roman town of Sephoris where hundreds of Roman soldiers are garrisoned on a mission to control the villages of Gallilee.  Given the status of women in that time, it’s quite possible that Mary is pregnant and unmarried because of rape, by a soldier or a villager.  What’s unusual about the story isn’t that Mary is pregnant and in danger because she’s not married.  That would have been common.  What’s unusual is that both Mary and Joseph see the hand of God bringing a positive outcome of this terrible circumstance. 

So let’s bring these three strands together…Mary, in a desperate situation yet with Joseph sticking with her rather than abandoning her to poverty and embarrassment; prophecy promising a better life for those oppressed; a common belief that God was intimately involved in the lives of all people…This amazing young woman claims that her child, conceived under difficult circumstances no matter what part of the story you choose, is going to be the fulfillment of the prophecy and bring hope to her world.  She’s quite clear that this infant will bring down the powerful and lift up those who live in poverty and despair.  She takes what is a hopeless, life-threatening situation and claims for the child a life-giving future which becomes the hope of all people.  Every mother holds wonderful dreams for an unborn child, but this story claims cosmic significance for this mother and this child.

And then here’s the best part…not that Jesus is crowned like the emperor, claiming that power his mother sees for him, but he’s born.  A baby.  Powerless.  And like all babies, miraculous.  Then he’s raised by a mother who tells him about the prophecy, who tells him that despite the danger of his conception he’s been blessed with the power of God to do great things.  I think we can’t begin to know how much her vision and her hope shaped the man he became and the work that he accomplished.  And the starting point for him was his birth, a moment he shared with his mother that changed them both.  Someone I read this Advent pointed out that birth is the way we all begin and that it’s a traumatic experience, involving a significant amount of pain and stretching and loss of control that leads to a wonderful new beginning.  When God chooses to be part of this world, God chooses birth, becoming human, entering the very beginning of life, with us from the very start. 

At Christmas we celebrate that Jesus is born, knowing that the rest of the story tells us that this birth made a big difference in the world.  We celebrate Christmas at the time of year when in our hemisphere the earth and the year are turning toward something new – the birth of whatever comes next.  I think it gives us a chance to reflect on birth in our own lives.  Birth so often comes from something hard – Mary claiming the goodness of her child in horrible circumstances, delivering him in a stable, bringing him into a world that would eventually murder him, and yet believing that his life would matter, that it would change everything.

I invite you to consider with me those moments of birth in your own lives.  Maybe physical birth, but more those moments when you encountered something difficult and stretched and made it through to life in some new way.  I remember a time after the flood of 1997 when I was pastoring a church without a building and not really a plan.  The synod decided that the best thing for me would be to learn about a new movement in the church.  That involved going to a workshop in Los Angeles, where I had never been.  They had no money to help, but they thought I should go so we found a way.  There I learned about what was then called the church transformation movement, growing church out of the people’s experience of the holy rather than the history of the institution.  I hated it.  It was a stretch toward something I couldn’t imagine, and it was life changing.  Or I remember the day they started the IV that would allow chemicals to kill my bone marrow and make space for new stem cells.  It was a point of no return, and it led to life.

What are the birth moments you mark in your life?  They might be medical -a heart attack, a stroke, cancer – disasters clearing the way for a new way of being alive.  They might be mental – depression, addiction, some dark time that brings you to light in a different way.  Birth moments can involve family – an addition or subtraction, an unexpected birth or death, a coming out that shifts the way we understand one another and calls us to stretch our love wider.  Sometimes birth involves a new job or losing a job or training for a new job.  It can involve moving across the country or around the world.  It can be learning something new that shifts our understanding of how life works and community functions.

Birth moments are hard and sometimes it takes a while for them to get to the joyful part.  The message of Christmas is that God is in the birthing of life, no matter when it happens.  Mary’s message to us is that even the most difficult circumstances are filled with the presence of God and that hope is possible.  We just hold on long enough to see what can grow from a new beginning.

So as we come to the end of 2024 and the beginning of a new year, I invite you to watch for what is being born in you, what is being born among us.  Watch for signs of God’s presence, a light in the darkness, a hope in the brokenness.  What comes next may not be easy, but we don’t do it alone.  We have each other.  We have the strong presence of God.  We have the promise that there is always light.  In whatever struggle lies before us, whatever challenges we face, there is also hope and joy.  Something new is born through us and God is bringing life through it all.

Love- The Fourth Sunday in Advent

Today is the Fourth Sunday of Advent.  The last Sunday of Advent.  Christmas is coming in just a few days.  For some people these days of Advent, days of December, days of preparation for Christmas, have gone by very fast.  For some, they may have seemed to really drag, really take a long time.  We have become a people that is very impatient.  We want things to happen quickly.  We complain if our computers or televisions take too long to come on, or change programs, or do anything.  We usually want fast foods, not slow cooked ones.  I have a sweatshirt that Nell gave me years ago that says “Instant gratification takes too long.”  We don’t want to wait.

If we are left to ourselves, we seem to try to turn God into an object, something we can deal with, something we can use to our benefit whether that thing is a feeling or an idea or an image.  Prophets scorn all that stuff.  They train us to respond to God’s presence and voice.  The prophets, in general, have a message of keeping people alive to God and alert to listing to the voice of God. 

Prophets use words to make changes in the world.  They deal with realities like love and compassion, justice and faithfulness, sin and evil, and mostly God.  All these are things that are difficult to define, other than by describing them.  Think about that.  Try to define love without giving an example or a description.  Much of the world’s action takes place within realities that we can only describe, but are unable to explain with a concrete definition.

Here we are, on December 22, the 4th Sunday of Advent, the last Sunday of Advent.  This is one of those waits where even if it seems too long, we just have to wait it out.  During this Advent Season we have had several scripture lessons that were Old Testament prophets predicting and pointing to the birth of the Messiah, the one we call Jesus.

Today we heard from the prophet Micah.  The book of Micah is relatively short.  It is just 7 chapters long.  Micah was from the south of Judah.  He wrote sometime between 750 and 686 BC.  He has a deep sensitivity to the social ills of his day.  The beginning of the book is mainly oracles of doom, and the end of the book is mainly oracles of hope.  Micah sees that the Kingdom of David may look to end, but it will reach even greater heights though the coming Messianic deliverer.

In our lesson today, Micah begins by pointing to Bethlehem Ephrathah.  We have heard of the town of Bethlehem.  Ephrathah is an older name, a former name of the town of Bethlehem.  The town is about 6 miles southeast of Jerusalem in what, at that time, was a rich agricultural area.  The name Ephrathah means “Fruitful”.  In the Old Testament this is known as a Canaanite settlement that was there before the Jews settled in the land.  It is mentioned in Genesis 35:19 as the burial site of Rachel, Jacob’s favorite wife. 

The town became known as Bethlehem, which means “House of Bread”.  Bread was one of the staple foods of the people.  Much wheat and other grains were grown to supply the flour for that bread.  A place that was fruitful and a place known as a house of bread are both referring to an abundance of the staples of life.  Eventually Bethlehem was known as the hometown of King David.  Apparently, the designation in our text of Bethlehem Ephrathah, with both the old and new names of the town, is simply to distinguish it from some other town called Bethlehem, somewhere in Israel.

We know of the town of Bethlehem as the birthplace of Jesus.  In the Christmas story we hear that Caesar Agustus decreed that a census should take place.  Simply a counting of the people so that he could collect as much tax from as many people as possible.  Joseph was from the family of David, and so was to go to Bethlehem, the city of David, to register and pay his taxes.  And Mary goes with him.  And the town and the inns are full of people, because of the census.

So, we have the hope from Micah.  “You Bethlehem Ephrathah, though you are the least significant of Judah’s forces.”  The people of Micah’s day, just like us, tend to expect important people to come from some important place, not from an insignificant area.  Here, coming from Bethlehem, which had little to nothing important happen there from the time of David’s birth in Bethlehem, until the birth of Jesus.  Not an important place, but still to be the place of the birth of the coming Messiah, one who is to be ruler of Israel.

Then Micah gives an example, one that we immediately read as pointing to Mary, “when she who is in labor gives birth.”  It is difficult to think of a baby, and especially of an infant yet to come, difficult to think of them as coming on behalf of God.  Even so, that is what Micah tells will be the case of this baby that is coming.  I have met people who firmly believe that they were called by God from birth, or even before.  Such is the case of this baby that is coming.  This is a sign of hope, and a call to get ready. 

We need to get ready.  If you know you are getting guests, you may have all sorts of things that you feel you need to do to get ready.  You may be waiting impatiently for them to show up.  We do that when we are expecting a birth.  When will it happen?  When my oldest daughter, Maren, was born, I wasn’t ready.  I had picked up a used crib to use.  The crib came to me in pieces and with no instructions on how to put it together and with me having never seen it when it was together.  Maren was born 6 weeks early.  I came home from the hospital the day she was born, took all the pieces of the crib and spread them out on the living room floor, because that was the biggest open space, and worked on it and finally  got it put together.  Then I took it to the room that was to be the nursery.  It was too wide to get through the door!  I had to take it apart to get it through the door, and then put it together again!  A hope of a birth and a call to get ready.

Micah goes on to tell us of the strength and power and majesty of this one to come.  Such strength and power and majesty that can hardly happen, unless there is help from above.  And in this case, as Micah says, it will all be in the name of God.

The power and strength of this one to come will not be like the power that we see in current political leaders, here or anywhere else in the world.  It is different because this one to come is not gaining strength and power from war and not gaining majesty and glory for themselves from that strength and power.  This one to come gains power and strength and glory because “He will become one of peace.”  That would truly change, or at least should change, our world.  He will become one of peace. 

As Advent comes to a close and Christmas draws near, let us draw our hope from this one who came in peace.  Let us use that peace to be a light to all in our world who need that light and that peace.  Amen.

Joy - The Third Sunday in Advent

Those of you who were present in worship the first Sunday of advent may be a bit nervous today. It was hope Sunday and I began with a description of life behind bars in the federal prison in Angola and it was a bit of a downer. You may fear what I may do to joy, our theme for today.

But how could I dare to mess up joy! I mean joy is the goal of Christmas lights and sleigh bells in the snow. Joy is sharing and remembering. It is warm socks by the fire and hot chocolate with candy cane sticks.

Joy is connection and renewal, forgiveness and forgetting why forgiveness is needed.

Joy is recovery, of health, body and soul.

Joy is giggles and the sticky faces of children. And God bless us everyone!

Joy is snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes.

It can start at our toes and leap to our hearts and it shouts from the rooftops. Singing Joy to the world. All the boys and girls. Joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea. Joy to you and me.

Joy is quiet and still and deep and begs only to be whispered.

Joy makes it all worthwhile.

Joy to the world, the lord has come.

Make your own list. Sing your own song.

Hear the words of Isaiah. Read.

I should tell you some about Isaiah. There are at least four different writers in the name of the prophet Isaiah and the books covers a long time in the history of the people of Israel. And at this time, when one of the lsaiahs is writing, things are looking a little rocky. The leader, King A, has to make a decision about which horse he will back, rather said, which army he will instruct his army fight with, this one or that one and frankly everyone is tired of fighting and joy can only be measured in thimbles.

Puts me in mind of where Syria might be today, with the future unknown, except no one believes all the fighting is over, for real. The joy of finding those who were held prisoners, is fast dampened by the grief of finding who is not there. Who is missing. Those who didn't make it to the end.

But this particular Isaiah, puts joy back on the table as a possibility. He says, God knows what you are going through.

God offers you comfort and joy. Water when you are thirsty.

Help.

And Isaiah says, God will save you, so you have nothing to fear. And then there are the three important words, at that time.

At that time, you will celebrate the greatness of God. So, this we understand.

At that time, when the day comes, in that day.

Pick a translation, but it all means the same: not now.

That picture of connection with God is for some time, but not now.

We are possibility people.

We live with the mess and search for evidence of God's work at hand. And we seek the joy we have been promised.

We believe the promise, but we ask for help today. And tomorrow. And in the new year.

The baby was born in a stable, died on a cross, ascended into heaven, and we pray each Sunday for the kingdom of God to come on earth, and at that time, we will shout aloud and sing for joy because of God's wonderful deeds.

Possibility people are faithful people.

We know we are not alone.

We are part of the possibility community that stretches around the globe. We don't have to make God's possibility a reality in isolation.

God is our help.

Possibility people practice faithfulness in the not yet time. We search for justice, we long for peace, we live in hope.

And we follow in the footsteps of millions of people over the centuries who have done the same.

In that day.

I don't want to mess up joy.

It is the fuel for our spirits that makes living in the not yet time liveable.

So, I invite you to make your own list of what gives you joy and find your own song and lift your own voices.

Benediction means the good word and so I give you the good word. Joy to the world. Joy to you and me. Amen.

Peace - the Second Sunday in Advent

As we continue our journey through Advent and towards Christmas, we have a scripture lesson this morning from the book of Baruch.  Most of us know very little about the book of Baruch.  I have never preached from it before.  Baruch is a short book, only 5 chapters long, in what we refer to as to Apocrypha.  The Apocrypha is a group of books that are placed between Old Testament times and New Testament times.  The Roman Catholic Church has recognized these books as scripture, and therefore they are included in some Bibles.  Protestant churches have acknowledged that these books are of historical value, and do contain valuable messages, but have not elevated them to the level of scripture.

Baruch is given credit for the authorship of the book.  He is a companion of the prophet Jeremiah, and often serves as the recorder or secretary or personal assistant to Jeremiah. The first part of the book is pretty much historical narrative of the time during which Israel was in exile in Babylon and contains a confession of sins.  The second part, which contains our text, is composed of two long poems dealing with comfort and restoration.

Picture the scene to which Baruch writes.  You have been living in Israel, a country that you view as being a chosen land given to you as a chosen people, given to you by God.  You imagine that it is implied that therefore God will protect you from whatever evil surrounds you.  You picture that there are no threats to you from the nations around you.  Why? Because God, who chose you and gave you this land, will protect you.

Then the Babylonians conquer your land and take you into exile.  Essentially you become refugees living in a foreign land; not knowing if or when you will be able to return home.  And you begin to question your faith.  How did the Babylonians conquer you? Why didn’t God protect you from the Babylonians? Does that mean that God forgot about you?  Or was there some great sin and the fall of your country, and your exile are punishments from God?  God was with you in Israel.  Is God even here in this foreign land of Babylon?

Some of your people, including you yourself, have been carried off into exile in Babylon.  That was a typical method of operation for the Babylonians.  When they conquered another country, they would take into exile the leaders, both religious and political, the wealthy, the business people, and anyone thought to have some form of power.  They would leave the country devastated by war and without any leadership.  

Yet, some of your people are still in Israel, not carried off into exile.  Some are not refugees.  But all those with wealth or power or education or authority were now in exile.  You are promised that you will be able to return.  But it is taking so long.  We hear refugee stories today of the pain of refugees being separated from part of their families for a few years.  Here the Jewish people were in exile for 70 years.  It is taking so long to be able to go back home that they wonder if it will ever happen.  Even if you are now in safety and have food and clothing and shelter, it still is so incredibly depressing that you are not home.  You are still a refugee in a strange land.

In the midst of that depression, Baruch gives a message of hope.  A lot of times when people are depressed, they look like it, dress like it, act like it.  Baruch tells the people to take off the stuff that keeps them held down in their despair. And instead, dress in the dignity of God’s glory forever.  Dressing in dignity, showing dignity, is virtually impossible when acting like one is downtrodden.  It is not always possible to lift ourselves out of oppression as Baruch puts things.  But he does give us some wonderful images.

I remember, as a small child, at my Grandma and Grandpa Justesen’s.  On a cold and snowy day, we would go out and play in the snow.  While we were out playing in the snow, Grandma would bake.  When we got too cold and/or too wet we would come into the house.  Grandma would have us sit right by the oven, which was hot from whatever cake or cookies she had made while we were outside.  She would wrap each of us up in a quilt (we each got our own quilt because she figured my sister and I would fight over the quilt if we shared the same one) and give us each a mug of steaming hot chocolate, and some of what she had just baked.  Wrapped in a quilt, the warmth felt wonderful.  It was amazing.  Baruch wants us to wrap the justice of God around us like a robe.  Imagine that.  A warmth, a comfort, a security, wrapped up in the justice of God.  Not just a justice that just touches you, but one that wraps around you and you can hold tight to yourself.

Grandma made a quilt for me when I went to college.  All the pieces were denim or corduroy or wool.  They were pieces from work shirts and pants of Grandpa’s.  The quilt weighed a ton, but sure was warm.  She embroidered my name on it, at the top, right in the middle.  It was one of a kind.  And my name was there for all to see, for all to see that it was mine.  It seems like everyone who came into our dorm room would ask about the quilt and the name embroidered on it.  And I would tell them about the special quilt, the one with my name on it.

Do you like your name?  Some people do.  Some people don’t.  Some people so dislike their name that they change it or refuse to use it.  Some people have excellent reasons not to want to use their given name, like memories that are tied to the name. Or family connections with the name, connections that may be better forgotten.

In some traditions a name is given to a person after a life-changing experience.  It may be a name given to someone at their baptism.  It may be a name given after a vision quest of a native American tradition.  It may be like a Roman Catholic tradition of giving a name to a woman when she takes vows as a nun.  Here we have Baruch telling us that God will name us with a name by which we will be called forever.   How special, how wonderful, that the creator of the universe took the time to give you, each of you, your own special name.

Baruch talks about a name that brings peace.  A name that makes you and those around you feel peaceful and comfortable.  And Baruch claims that such a peace only comes from the justice of God.  And the gathering of those followers of God, rejoicing that God has remembered them.

We can buy into that idea, a justice from God that wraps us in the peace of God.  Sounds wonderful.  Many of the things that we do as a congregation and as individuals, are done to show God’s justice and peace to those in need in our community. 

It would be nice if there were a couple magic words for us to say and that then, automatically we would see and live in that justice of God.  It would be nice to just have God wave that divine hand of God and have justice and peace fill our world, fill our land, fill our very hearts.

But, unfortunately, it never seems to work that way.  It seems that peace is something that we need to work for.  It seems that justice is something that we need to work for.  It can be hard work.

If you and I are not getting along, no matter what the cause, or no matter whose fault it is, to work for a peaceful solution and some justice and peace for each other is ideal, and difficult to achieve.  When someone angers us, it is pretty easy to first think of how to retaliate, how to get revenge.  Yet, when we react like that, we usually end up with revenge for our revenge and the cycle continues.  We see that so often in world politics and wars.  With Baruch, with Jesus, we are told and shown that the proper response to anyone, in any situation, is a response showing the love, the peace, the justice of God.

It is not always easy to do.  People have been trying and failing at that for all of history.  If we fail at it today, we just try again.  Someday it will help.  Someday, the hope and peace and justice that Baruch talks about will be ours.  Maybe only for a short time.  So, we keep trying live our lives showing that peace and justice, just maybe we will see it more and more often.  We draw hope from that justice, from that peace.  Amen.