What I learned today - Preaching My Way to Faith

Sunday, May 15, 2022

Sermon - Let love be our guide (Easter 5C)

5^th Sunday After Easter – Year C May 15, 2022

John 13:31-35 & Acts 11:1-18 Panzer Liturgical Chapel

When we read the story of Peter’s dream from Acts, we see another great moment of conversion, much like Paul’s experience with Jesus on the road to Damascus. This is the very moment when the Kingdom of God was officially opened to you and me – Gentiles in every sense of the word. Peter had a radical insight that day – God’s kingdom is for all. And when we think about how long it took for Peter to finally understand what Jesus was always teaching and preaching and living, it gives us hope that God will never get tired of waiting for us to get it, too.[i]

It is good news for us that this is not just a passage about the things that happened to Peter, but insight into his journey of discipleship – Peter, the Rock, was still a work in progress… and he woke up from his dream with a new vision of what it means to be a part of the family of God… all persons are sacred, and chosen… and all who love God and the things God cares about, everyone who loves and does right by others, are accepted and affirmed by God.[ii]

We don’t usually argue about food restrictions or dietary laws. We don’t talk about circumcision, which was a major point of difference among many of the first Christians. But we are inclined to argue about other differences we see in one another and whether or not they keep us from being fully included and fully welcomed into our Christian communities. Just like the first-century Christians, we use scripture as a way to fortify our own opinions and beliefs, rather than go back to Jesus’ words at his last supper.[iii]

Having been in ministry with disciples, having shared in the Lord’s Supper and washed the disciples’ feet, Jesus begins to talk to those gathered about what it would be like when he was gone. In this beginning passage from the “Farewell Discourse” in chapter 13 through chapter 17, Jesus gives his final words of love and direction, knowing they would soon be parted by the crucifixion and death.

Jesus gave them this last great lesson because he knew that they still didn’t quite understand what his ministry had been about. He knew them well enough to know that Peter would deny him. He knew that Judas would betray him. He knew that the other disciples would stay at arm’s length through the coming hours and days, even though they did not know it yet themselves. He knew these things because he had spent lots of time with these people. He had seen them react to the good and the bad. And he loved them despite what he knew.

Jesus was the glue that held them all together. He called them from different walks of life to become itinerant preachers. For years, they followed him from place to place, being who he needed them to be. Whatever you call them – disciples – students – followers – witnesses – in all of those roles they were learning more and more about who Jesus was. But it wasn’t until after this night that they began to put the pieces together. It took the shared meal, the arrest, the execution, and finally, the resurrection to help them see the whole picture.

And throughout it all, love held them together. Love gave them the courage to follow when he called. Love gave them the vision to see a new future. Love kept them together when it seemed that things could not get any worse. And love called them from their grief to begin a new life together, becoming what we know call the church. It’s this love that guides and directs us here today, calling us to be the love of Christ in the world.

Many of us think that the call to a life of faith means we have to change the way we behave. But if we want lasting change, we have to first change the way we see and think about the world. The Christian life, a life infused with God’s love, is lived out in our relationships with others. It is defined by every moment of our being, not just when we have important decisions to make. As people of faith, the love of Christ must be woven into the fabric of our being, the foundation on which all of our choices are made.

We use the word love a lot. We use it to mean physical attraction, deep affection, common courtesy, or mutual affection. But that’s not all there is to love. And when we talk about love while our actions are unloving, it gets confusing for us and for anyone who tries to see the harmony between what we say and what we do. And the biggest problems arise when we try to live our lives believing in the power of our own gifts and talents, no longer looking for the Spirit’s presence in our lives.

At this last meal, Jesus made a promise – to the disciples and us. He promised us an Advocate – a Comforter – and to be present with us even when he was gone. And the message the Spirit speaks to us is always about how we are called to love one another. The Spirit’s conversation within us and among us feeds and nurtures us and, at some point, gives us the courage to reach out so that we can be the hands of Christ to others.

Love is many things. Yes, it is romantic and parental and friendly. But love is also found in sacrifice. Love is found in holding one another accountable. Love is about putting others’ needs above our own. Love comes in giving praise and encouragement when it is needed, but also the willingness to be grabbed up by the collar and hear, “I love you… How can we pull this all back together?”

In short, if we are willing to reduce Christ’s commandment of love to merely a reciprocal mutual admiration society, we are not doing a very good job of following Christ. Love is hard work. It takes a lifetime to do it well and with the right intentions. It takes courage to love those whom we do not like. It takes humility to grow out of our comfort zones and love others in ways we never imagined we could love. Sometimes it seems that we get nothing for it… except the satisfaction of knowing that we have done what Jesus asks of us. Sometimes we are showered with love we feel we don’t deserve. And ultimately, grounded in him, the love of Christ will always keep us connected to one another and to him.

There are many amazing stories about unending, unswerving, unbelievable love that are told every day, but some days you have to look for them. Read the newspaper, watch TV, listen to the radio, and you will get a taste of some of the horror that fills the world. Nobody has to remind us of our predicaments. But if we listen well enough, we can hear stories that amaze us. These stories remind us that given the opportunity, we can indeed follow the new commandment that Jesus gave – “love one another, just as I have loved you.”

I can think of many such stories and people. But it would be too simple to lift up the life of Mother Teresa of India, Bishop Oscar Romero of El Salvador, or Desmond Tutu of South Africa. Their experiences are so different from our own that we might put them in a class by themselves. Instead, I lift to you a woman like you or me, who went with her fiancé to the Hyatt Hotel in Boston to arrange their wedding banquet. They poured over the menus, choosing foods, china, crystal, and flowers to reflect such a joyful day. The bill totaled over $13,000. Leaving a check for half, the couple went home, anxiously awaiting the happy day.

Well, as it turns out the groom was more than a little anxious. And the day the announcements were supposed to be mailed, he called the bride-to-be to call it off. In her pain and anger, she went to the hotel to cancel the reservations. The events manager could not have been more understanding, but about the refund, she said, there was bad news. “The contract is binding - you are entitled to $1,300 back. You have two options – forfeit the rest of the down payment or go ahead with a banquet that uses the money you’ve already paid.”

Now here is the part about love. It seemed crazy, but the more the jilted bride considered it, the better she liked the idea of having the party anyway. And in her disappointment, she decided to treat the people of Boston to a night they would never forget. And so, on a Saturday night in June, there was a party. The hostess changed only one thing – the main course was now boneless chicken – “in honor of the groom,” and she sent invitations to homeless shelters and rescue missions all over town. And that night people who were used to something very different dined in style. Waiters in tuxedos served senior citizens propped up on crutches and aluminum walkers. And bag ladies, vagrants, and addicts took one night away from life on the streets to sip champagne, eat wedding cake, and dance to big-band tunes late into the night.

Among Jesus’ last words was the instruction to love one another… that’s how people will know that we are his disciples. But Peter’s dream cracks that commandment wide open. Because we are not just called to love our family and friends, but to love everyone. Before, law and custom kept a tight fence around what it meant to be a member of God’s elect. But Peter heard a new message, which he shared with the other Christian leaders of his day, and which comes directly to us. And when we are deciding who and how to love, let us remember God’s message to Peter and Peter’s message to the church… Who are we to declare that others are outside of God’s love when God claims them for himself?

This is a hard lesson to learn and incorporate into our daily lives. The call to love others will often take us down roads we did not expect or even want to go. You know how it is – we map out a particular future for ourselves and are mad, sad, frustrated, afraid, angry, or infinite combinations of these distressful feelings and more when it doesn’t turn out the way we expected. But when we remember the infinite and encompassing nature of God’s love for us, and we settle ourselves into that anchor point, the new future unfolds in ways we never imagined.

I think we might all know the camp song “We are one in the spirit”

We are one in the Spirit, we are one in the Lord

And we pray that our unity may one day be restored.

And they’ll know we are Christians by our love, by our love

They’ll know we are Christians by our love.

But knowing the other 3 verses makes the song a roadmap for living a full, loving Christian life… walking, working, and praising God together.

We will walk with each other We will walk hand in hand (2)

And together we'll spread the news that God is in our land

We will work with each other we will work side by side (2)

And we'll guard each man's dignity and save each man's pride

All praise to the father from whom all things come

And all praise to Christ Jesus his only son

And all praise to the spirit Who makes all things one.[iv]

God’s dreams are so much bigger than ours – and if we are all brave enough, together we will change the world for everyone. Jesus said, “I give you a new commandment: love one another…and if you do this, people will know that you belong to me.” And so, we go on… wanting and needing to know and love the world as well as God knows and loves us. Walking, working, praising - knowing, living, loving, that’s what it’s all about. Amen.

Peace, Deb

[i] Brian Peterson, Preach This Week, “Commentary on Acts 11:1-18, May 19, 2019, http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=4061

[ii] Chuck F Queen, Pastor at Immanuel Baptist Church, posted on FB in Progressive Methodists

[iii] Reverend Sue, What God has made is clean, Companions on the Way, May 11, 2022, www.companionsontheway.com

Monday, May 2, 2022

Sermon - Be Brave (Easter 3C)

3rd Sunday after Easter – Year C May 1, 2022

Acts 9:1-20, John 21:1-14 Panzer Liturgical Service, Stuttgart

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference. [i]

This is one of my favorite poems and I have often seen my faith journey reflected in its verses. It’s the epitome of the statement, “I came to a crossroad and had to make a choice…”

We do those things Robert Frost talks about. We measure the pros and cons of taking each road, whether it’s what we’re going to do on our next vacation, what we’re going to have for dinner, or where we will next be going to church. Does it have a good youth program or sing the kind of music I like? Do I like the minister, or can I at least stand to hear him or her preach every week? Sometimes our choices are not about theology or denomination. Sometimes they are just about looking down the road and thinking it might be better than where we have been.

But what if our faith journeys are not always about carefully measured choices? Paul’s conversion story gives us a different model of faith. How would we respond if we were knocked on our behinds and blinded for three days? What if that was the way we encountered the risen Lord, not necessarily for the first time, but at any point in our lives?

Would we trust the voice who spoke to us? Would we be freaked out that He knows our worst secrets, but still calls us by name? Would we follow a complete stranger who is called to wait with us in this time of discovery? Would we abandon our old lives and identities and take on a new way of life?

Reading through the book of Acts tells a remarkable story. Until this week, we have followed the disciples of Jesus as they begin the process of birthing the Christian church. Enter Saul… defender of the Jewish faith and persecutor of Christians. Can you imagine the potential for disbelief that must have surrounded these events? This Jesus, who spoke to him in this striking moment, was the very one whom Saul sought to discredit, and his followers to destroy. And yet Saul did not turn away from the crisis that led him to Christ. He committed totally to the new life that Jesus called him to. He changed his name and turned 180 degrees in the way he was living his life and in his life’s mission. And with Paul’s leadership, the church didn’t just grow, it flourished and spread much farther than the original disciples could ever have imagined.

The way that Luke tells the story, we are reminded that God often, and maybe even mostly, chooses to work in unusual and surprising ways. Don’t just think about the courage that it took for Paul to turn his life around… think also about the bravery of Ananias, who took Paul in and helped him begin this new life to which he had been called.

Paul is called out of his determination to wipe out the Christian community into the role of its most prolific spokesperson and missionary. He is called to give this good news to everyone, kings and Gentile alike. As we continue in the story of Acts, we see Paul’s ministry take shape. Paul gives up his place of power and enters into a nomadic life, often suffering for his unwillingness to press ahead for Jesus.

Eric Berrato writes:

[In Acts,] Luke also reveals what is central to the gospel. The good news is expansive and broad. It reaches to the widest edges of the world seeking the lost, but God also turns to the powerful of the world and demands justice, grace, and peace. Yet this good news comes with a price, a price we must wonder if we are willing to embrace as Jesus’ disciples.[ii]

I think this story is important as a part of the Eastertide narrative because it reminds us that the story of salvation doesn’t end with the resurrection of Jesus, but because it is the beginning of our stories. Looking back, I can see the times when Jesus knocked me off my metaphorical horse and made unimportant to me the plans that I envisioned for myself, setting me on a new path. And let me tell you, there were a lot of tears, a lot of blindness of not knowing what was going to happen next. And I’m sure you’re all tired of me saying this – but while this was not the life I ever imagined, it was definitely the one I needed.

Today’s lessons ask us important questions:

· How does this story give us a new imagination for what it means to live out our faith?
· Do we have the zeal for the gospel of love and grace, or is our zeal for something else, like having other people mirror our own beliefs?
· Is our zeal wholly committed to serving God’s people, or is it sometimes misdirected or even destructive?

Every day I watch the news and wonder if our need to defend our faith at the expense of the experience of others is really what Jesus intends for us… and yet I don’t know how to respond, probably because to speak out might cause me to be rejected. And so I encourage you to join me in asking God, “What do you expect of me?” And if he is calling us to go to unexpected places, let us go together. And if we end up taking different paths, let us support one another in prayer and in the knowledge that God calls each of us differently to use our gifts to serve both those who are our sisters and brothers in Christ and those who do not see themselves in his story yet.

Even the most liturgical among us know what it means when someone asks what it means to be saved. But I’d like for us to think about the faith in another dimension. We refer to this story from Acts as Paul’s conversion story. And I think it’s important that we remember that conversion is not just about believing in something new, but about having a change of heart and turning in a new direction.[iii]

When I became a member of the church, I took this vow: To confess Jesus Christ as Savior, put my whole trust in his grace, and promise to serve him as my Lord; with prayers, presence, gifts, service, and witness. I was 12 – what did I know? I have spent the last 50 years growing into those vows. And at various times in my life, I have seen glimpses of what that kind of life – that kind of faith – really looks like. And it’s glorious… it’s hard, but it’s glorious.

The process of conversion, of dedicating our lives to God and Christ, is ongoing and will not be completed until we are reunited with him in glory. God isn’t finished with any of us yet. God will keep working, sometimes gently calling, and other times knocking us out of our comfortable routines into something new and dangerous and life-giving. To quote writer Madeline L’Engle: "We have to be braver than we think we can be, because God is constantly calling us to be more than we are."[iv]

That’s not to say that we are called to be reckless, but if the story of Paul’s conversion and indeed his whole ministry are any kind of example, they at least call us to reconsider whether God is calling us to live out faith from our comfort zones or someplace more… somewhere bigger and scarier. Who knows when God will show up on our happy little roads where we are doing what we think is exactly right and turn our lives completely around? And when it happens, how will we respond?

In today’s gospel lesson, we hear Jesus ask Peter three times if he loves him, and each time when the answer is a “yes,” even an agonizing “yes,” Jesus instructs, “Feed my sheep.” Serving God and Jesus means serving others. It’s not just about taking care of a building or making sure an institution survives. It is all about loving and caring for those who are most in need of the goodness and the grace of God. For many, the work we do and the grace we share might be the only evidence some will ever see that God exists.

One of the biggest dangers is to be mistaken that we must be gifted to do the work God calls us to. It’s natural – we want to get it right, do a good job, and maybe receive recognition for our godly work. We often turn down an opportunity to serve because we don’t think that it is our calling. Again, the words of Madeline remind us that we must make a shift in attitude.

…Not one of us is qualified, but it seems that God continually chooses the most unqualified to do his work, to bear his glory. If we are qualified, we tend to think that we have done the job ourselves. If we are forced to accept our evident lack of qualification, then there's no danger that we will confuse God's work with our own, or God's glory with our own.[v]

German pastor Dietrich Bonhoeffer left a legacy of faith that amazes and frightens the most faithful Christian. After Hitler rose to power, Bonhoeffer left his post at Union Theological Seminary in New York and his new fiancée behind to return to Germany. There, he would speak out against the growing nationalism of the German church, finally leaving to form the Confessing Church, opening a seminary for the new denomination, and gathered those sermons and teachings into what have become some of today’s most popular Christian books, The Cost of Discipleship and Life Together.[vi]

When their ministry was outlawed by the Nazi government, he traveled in secret to dozens of German villages, teaching in what he called “A Seminary on the Run”. And despite being a pacifist earlier in his ministry, he eventually worked in concert with others who believed that Hitler and the menace he engendered could only be dealt with one way. Bonhoeffer spent two years in prison for his part in an assassination attempt on Hitler’s life. He was executed at Flossenbürg concentration camp on April 9, 1945, at the order of Hitler himself, just two weeks before the United States Army liberated the camp. When he died, he famously remarked to another prisoner, "This is the end — but for me, the beginning."[vii]

Bonhoeffer wrote some of the most important theological reflections of the 20^th century. I leave you with this quote today. And when you are inclined to take the safe road and live life the way you expected it to be, remember these words:

I'm still discovering, right up to this moment, that it is only by living completely in this world that one learns to have faith. I mean living unreservedly in life's duties, problems, successes and failures, experiences and perplexities. In so doing, we throw ourselves completely into the arms of God.[viii]

We are called to throw ourselves completely into the arms of God, knowing that no matter which road we take, God is always with us, and that makes all the difference.

Amen.

Peace, Deb

[i] “The Road Not Taken”, Robert Frost (1874–1963). Mountain Interval. 1920

[ii] Eric Barreto, Preach This Week, April 10, 2016, http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=2835

[iii] Robb McCoy and Erik Fistler, Pulpit Fiction http://www.pulpitfiction.us/show-notes/ep-10-a-moment-of-clarityor-easter-3c

[iv] Madeline L’Engle, Walking on Water: Reflections on Faith and Art”, p.58, Convergent Books

[v] Ibid, pg 55.

[vi] https://www.liquisearch.com/dietrich_bonhoeffer/finkenwalde_seminary

[vii] https://sojo.net/articles/11-bonhoeffer-quotes-remember-pastor-who-resisted-evil-unto-death

[viii] https://www.goodreads.com/author/quotes/29333.Dietrich_Bonhoeffer

Sunday, April 17, 2022

Sermon - Belief, Not Understanding… Easter Sunday (C)

Easter Sunday – Year C April 17, 2022

Luke 24:1-12, 1 Corinthians 15:19-26 Panzer Liturgical Service

If you asked most people what their favorite holiday is, most would say Christmas. I’m sure everyone has a favorite childhood Christmas memory, and some as adults, too. Especially here in Germany, the Advent and Christmas seasons are as wonderful and over-the-top as you would ever want them to be, filled with beauty and joy, and celebrated with friends and family in wonderful ways.

Meteora, Greece
(c) Deb Luther Teagan

But for the Christian church, the most important holiday is Easter. We have all heard the story – Jesus was welcomed into Jerusalem as a conquering hero, only to be arrested, placed on trial, and executed within the week. For three days, his followers believed that all was lost. But then the story turned.

Luke 24:1-12 (paraphrased) As the women of his group went to the tomb to prepare his body for its final rest, they were astonished and frightened to find that his body was nowhere to be found. Instead, the stone was rolled away and the cloths in which his body had been quickly wrapped on Friday were laying in a pile. Men in dazzling attire asked the ultimate rhetorical question: “Why are you looking for the living among the dead? He is not here – because he promised that he wouldn’t be.” And when the women went to tell the disciples the news, they didn’t believe them. Instead, Peter and probably others ran back to the tomb to see for themselves the new truth… “He is not here – he is risen.”

I can’t even tell you how many people have told me that the resurrection is the hardest part of the Jesus story. Since the mid-17th century, we have become a world where seeing is believing. Today we often hear that science and religion conflict with one another. But the father of modern science, Galileo Galilei, even though he was knocked down again and again by the Church, never lost faith in God and Jesus Christ.

So if you are wondering how to reconcile your understanding of Jesus’ story with a world of scientific discovery, I ask you to consider hearing the story this way. The resurrection of Jesus is a miracle that is impossible to understand. We don’t know how it happened. But the real question is not about how, but why Jesus was raised from the dead. And to find an answer to that question, we have to look at the whole story.

The bible is filled with amazing stories – sometimes like a crazy soap opera. Even so, it’s easy to think of the bible as a rule book or etiquette guide. But it’s so much more than just that. It’s the story of God interacting with his creations for generations. And in this story, God tries everything he can think of to help us live in harmony with him and one another.

He creates this amazing garden – with everything that humanity would need to live a perfect life. But God also created us with personalities and the ability to make choices and decisions for ourselves. It was a risk, but without choice, he understood that what we have with him is not really a relationship.

And so when the first couple made bad choices, there were consequences. God was true to his word. But he also did not cut them off. He continued to be present with them, calling prophets to warn people and share the good news of who God is. But eventually, the old story played itself out. And a new story – a new prophet… a new savior – came into the picture. God turned the page and made a personal appeal to the people he created… and Jesus said, “Come and follow me.”

The world that Jesus was born into was not a model society. The Jews had been returned to the promised land from exile and slavery, but they were not in control. The Greeks and then the Romans were in charge. The Jewish leaders were given some authority to keep the religious sects in hand. We saw in the events of Holy Week that these leaders were dedicated to keeping their own status high by crushing small rebellions that popped up. Messiahs were a dime a dozen in their eyes. But Jesus was different, in more ways than one.

The resurrection, and therefore our celebration of Easter, is a pivotal moment in God’s history. Every Sunday we profess the belief that death does not have the last word over life. Two passages help us to cling to the resurrection story and believe in it even when we don’t understand it. The first has to do with faith. The writer of Hebrews 11 says, “Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen… By faith, we understand that the worlds were prepared by the word of God so that what is seen was made from things that are not visible. (v1,3)” That means that we have to be willing to know something with our hearts and faith, even if we can’t fully understand it.

In some ways, sermons on Easter are hard. They are theologically and philosophically oriented. Today’s epistle lesson is remarkably concrete. The people who followed Jesus were awed by the things he did… healing, feeding, and loving people, no matter who they were. But here Paul is telling us that Jesus wasn’t just important in the flesh… if that’s all we focus on we are missing the point. And he isn’t just important to us while we are in our flesh. Jesus’ resurrection, while unexplainable, changes everything for us. And Paul makes this point by connecting Adam and Jesus to us. He says - Just as Adam’s humanness makes us human, Jesus’ rising from the grave gives us the gift of new life, eternal life in him. And even more so, Jesus’ resurrection doesn’t just destroy the power of rulers and authorities over him but also flips on its head the concept that death will always have the last word.

At the beginning of this letter, Paul is quick to point out how hard it is to wrap our brains around this. He explains, "For the message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved, it is the power of God… For Jews demand signs and Greeks desire wisdom, but we proclaim Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles, but to those who are the called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God. For God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength.” (1 Corinthians 1:18, 22-25)

It is not just that the resurrection doesn’t make sense, but also that Jesus, who is God, would die a horrific and shameful death. In the end, faith is about believing in the wisdom of God, which might not make sense to the world, and trusting that God’s weakness is stronger than human strength.

Easter is the best reminder that death does not have the final say – and that while we don’t know what this gift of eternal life will look like, it is a promise that we can count on. When we are young Christians, we can start out thinking that Easter and resurrection are an insurance policy… protection from struggles and hardships. We worry about following the rules, but eventually, we can’t keep up. When that realization comes, we can either give up or get a new outlook on what a life of faith should look like.

It’s a good day when we realize – and internalize – the understanding that Christ did not intend for our lives to be grounded in fear. Instead, he instructs us to live as reflections of his love and grace in the world. This happens day by day, minute by minute, one act of love at a time. It means choosing Christ daily and recommitting our lives, over and over, with the knowledge he always chooses each of us.

Many of us were brought to the water and baptized before we knew who Jesus was. That was the start of our Christian lives. Many of us went through Confirmation classes and reaffirmed our baptismal vows before our family and friends. But in reality, we renew those vows a remarkable number of times in our lives. Every time we attend someone else’s baptism or confirmation, we are asked to reaffirm our vows. When we come to the Eucharist each week, we answer the call of Christ when we affirm that we love God and seek to live in peace with one another, offering a prayer of confession and absolving one another from sin. We gather at a common table where everyone is equal. And we go into the world to serve God and one another in peace.

We come to worship in relative calm, but some people worship Jesus knowing that it is dangerous, putting their lives in jeopardy. If we think back to that first Easter morning, the women went in great fear because of all that happened the week before. But their love for Jesus was greater than their fear. And so they went.

It is always my hope that people will hear the story of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection and see a place for themselves in his story. The journey of faith starts with one step…and continues with another and another, until one day, we are living a life we never imagined. At its core, this means living a life defined by love. Perhaps Mother Theresa has said it in a way that all of us can understand: “Not all of us can do great things, but we can do all things with great love.”

Let this be the prayer of our hearts. Let this be our Easter story. Let this be our everything.

Peace, Deb

See Holly Hearon, “Commentary on 1 Corinthians 15:19-26,” April 17, 2022, Working Preacher, https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/resurrection-of-our-lord-3/commentary-on-1-corinthians-1519-26-5

Thursday, April 14, 2022

Sermon - It was more than just a meal (Maundy Thursday - C)

Sermon – Maundy Thursday (C) April 14, 2022 Panzer Liturgical Service
Exodus 12:1-4, (5-10), 11-14 • 1 Corinthians 11:23-26 • John 13:1-17, 31b-35

We call this day Maundy Thursday. It’s a unique descriptor for the Holy Thursday, taken from the Latin word mandatum, which means mandate or commandment. Paul uses this theme in tonight’s epistle reading – “Do this in the remembrance of me.” The synoptic gospels, Matthew, Mark, & Luke, give us the historical account and the rubrics for this last supper – the one we reenact each week in the Eucharist. But the gospel of John fills in all the blanks. John’s account of the evening, found in chapters 13-17, gives us a significant look at Jesus’ theology… his understanding of who he is and who we are when we follow him. Yes, Jesus at the last supper gives us a mandate, but it’s not just to share this holy meal often.

Tonight, we see Jesus once again acting against stereotypes. We talked last Sunday about how Jesus is a different kind of King. Instead of riding into Jerusalem on a powerful horse, he comes in on a humble colt or donkey, transportation for the poor. And when they arrive at the room for a simple supper, he again acted in an unexpected way.

In the normal order of things, Kings don’t wait on people. So, when Jesus takes off his outer garments and makes things ready to wash the feet of his disciples, they were shocked, so much that Peter confronts Jesus about his actions:

Peter: Lord, you’re not going to wash my feet…
Jesus: Peter, I have to wash your feet.
Peter: Well, then, wash my head and my hands also
Jesus: Just your feet, Peter… pay attention, this is not just about being clean.

It was common practice for guests to have their feet washed up entry into a person’s home. Most travelers wore sandals and the roads were dusty and dirty. Cleaning feet was a way of keeping the home clean, but also an act of hospitality for the traveler, to make their visit more comfortable. But usually, it was the servants who performed this duty, not the host himself. And so, for Jesus to put himself into that lesser role would have been an extremely dramatic and uncomfortable thing to witness. And afterward, he commanded them to continue the practice of serving one another, and not to wait on someone else to serve them.

We don’t often wash one another’s feet these days… in most mainline traditions, this Maundy Thursday service is the only time that this part of Jesus’ story is reenacted. Touching another person’s feet feels very intimate. It makes both people feel very vulnerable. And as with many of the things that Jesus asks of us, when we are open to that vulnerability, we are open to the Christian life in ways we might not have imagined before.

More than anything, Jesus’ actions tonight teach us important lessons that should inform the way we relate to other people and live out our faith every day.

1^st lesson – Hospitality is an important manifestation of our faith. Jesus not only calls us to welcome people into our lives but also to meet the needs that they have. One of the things that I love about having German friends is the way that hospitality is lived out in many routine encounters. When we get together with our German neighbors or friends from our village band, certain rituals are always followed. First, you shake hands or hug every person who enters the group. You eat whatever food or drink they offer you. And when you leave, you don’t just say goodbye to the host and guest of honor, but to everyone you have had a conversation with during this encounter. “Danke für die Einladung – thank you for the invitation” and “Bis bald! – see you soon.”

When we first encountered these rituals, it felt very personal… very intimate… and very foreign. But I learned a lot about hospitality through these encounters. And what a glad burden it is to be in relationship with other people.

2^nd lesson – This encounter teaches us that no job of service is too lowly for any of us. We applaud people like Mother Theresa who served in the worst slums of India and think of that as a special calling reserved only for those who are the holiest believers. I’m certainly no Mother Theresa because I must confess that sometimes I feel like God has called me to ministry that doesn’t take my strengths into account. There’s a lesson to be learned for just that reason.

I’m not a builder, but I spent 12 summers carting around youth and building materials to work on mission houses in rural South Carolina… that’s why I still drive a truck today. In Spokane, I volunteered at the transitional homeless shelter, a place for families to sleep safely as they worked with agencies to find permanent housing, jobs, and training. It didn’t take an MDiv to change beds, cook breakfast, play Candyland, and clean showers, but it sure did give me a better understanding of my own privilege and how much I have to share to meet the needs of others. And it reminded me that ministry isn’t just about teaching theology or biblical study. Ministry is also about meeting people’s needs so that they are ready to tackle their discipleship journeys in whatever ways they can.

3^rd lesson - By ritualizing this story and making it a focus of our worship tonight, we are living out the biblical story. This story helps us develop muscle memory. It’s how we can ride a bike or drive a stick shift, even if we haven’t done it in years. It’s how we get to the bathroom in the middle of the night without having to turn on the light. Worship often includes the kind of role-playing that helps us relate to the bible story. We celebrate the Eucharist, not just because Jesus commanded us to, but to remember that Christ is with us in the bread and wine. Here, we share a common meal where everyone sits in equal seats. Afterward. we leave the table to live and serve in the world.

Washing feet is a tangible reminder that we, too, are called to be a different kind of people, ones who gladly receive and serve, as Christ has called us to do. This reminds me of a quote from practical theologian, Henri Nouwen: You don't think your way into a new kind of living - you live your way into a new kind of thinking.

Washing other people’s feet was the most astonishing act of service that Jesus ever did. He presided over a meal that unites us all at the same table… one bread, one body, one Lord… And in the next 24 hours, he was arrested, tried, beaten, stripped, and killed as his ultimate acts of service to all of humankind. And because we know the rest of the story, even as we approach the darkness of Good Friday or Karfreitag (Grief Friday in German), we see the resurrection on the horizon and know that Jesus’ ministry was not stopped by his death.

Some people do need to have their feet washed – the elderly, the sick, and others who cannot do this for themselves. But the real lesson here is that we should all be humble enough to do for others, serving out of love and devotion to God.

Jesu, Jesu, fill us with your love,
show us how to serve
the neighbors we have from you.

This week I read a story on Facebook – the author was unknown, but it felt like a good closing story for tonight. A young woman spent the day with her dad and one of their tasks was to package the honey he had collected from his hives that morning. When they took the lid from the 5-gallon bucket, they found 3 small bees struggling to get free, drowning in all that sticky goodness. “Can we save them?” the daughter asked. “No, I’m sure even if we tried, they would never survive,” he replied. “Well, can we at least kill them quickly so they don’t suffer?” was her answer. So they scooped them out and place them aside while they got the rest of their supplies in order.

It didn’t take long for a few bees to seek out the small yogurt lid with the three trapped bees. Within an hour or so, these three little bees were surrounded by all of their sisters and they were cleaning the honey from their nearly dead bodies. A short time later, there was only one little bee left in the container. She was still being tended to by her sisters. And when it was time for the daughter to leave, they saw that all three of the bees had been cleaned off enough to fly away and the container was empty.

Those three little bees lived because they were surrounded by family and friends who would not give up on them, family and friends who refused to let them drown in their own stickiness and resolved to help until the last little bee could be set free. And I think that’s what Jesus is modeling for us. He is washing the feet of people who don’t even know how much trouble they are in. And he is doing it knowing full well that it’s one of the last impressions he has to make.

We will not wash one another’s feet tonight, but if you like, you may wash the hand of another person as we come to share in communion tonight. There’s a bowl with some warm, soapy water, additional water for rinsing, and clean towels for each one to use. And if that feels like too much of a risk, it’s OK. Jesus understands.

While we go about the ritual of foot or handwashing, please remember that this is a symbolic act of devotion. He didn’t require anyone else to provide that service that evening… he just left them with the example and the impression to take into the future. If I have learned anything in the last two years, it’s that our service doesn’t have to be the actual washing of hands and feet. When we continue to wear masks for extra safety, wash our hands, keep up to date with our vaccines, and eliminate unnecessary risks, those are worthy acts of service in our current environment.

Jesus calls us to serve. Our life’s mission is to see that while those acts of service may change from season to season, the underlying love is always the place from which we begin. Remember, we love because God first loved us. So let us serve the world in love. Amen.

Peace, Deb

Sunday, April 10, 2022

Sermon - Who's on Trial? (Palm/Passion Sunday C)

Sunday Of The Passion: Palm Sunday, Year C April 10, 2022
Luke 23:1-49

Who’s On Trial?

The people were ready for this day. They had been waiting for him for years, reminding themselves of God's promise to restore them. The Romans were in control of their land and their lives. But God would send the one who would lead them into a new time, a new life, where they would be free from the powers of this world.

The city of Jerusalem would welcome Jesus as that person today. "Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!" was the cry as he rode a colt into the city, as the people waved palm branches alongside the road. Here was the one who would save them, who would deliver them, and they would follow him.

What was it the people saw, or better yet, wanted to see, in Jesus? What did Peter see that would make him blindly proclaim he would never depart away from Jesus? What did Judas see in Jesus that he would follow him? Who are these people that followed Jesus through the streets of Jerusalem in what was both an act of religious devotion and political proclamation? In those moments, I’m sure they believed in their loyalty. But we know it didn’t last. Within the week, they would desert him, betray him, and call for his death? Had Jesus changed that much between the time he was hailed as the messiah and the time of his arrest and trial?

It turns out a lot can happen in seven days. After his triumphant entry, Jesus may have been the one arrested and killed, but it was the people who were on trial. When he rode into Jerusalem, he was admonished by the Pharisees to silence his followers. He would not, allowing them to say their piece. When he was taunted by the guards and soldiers, he did not silence them. When he was taken to the place he would die, the crowds gathered to hurl insults his way, and when he was hung on the cross, he was mocked. He could have asked God to intervene, but he didn’t. Those final days and hours became a courtroom scene of their own, where the people were put on trial as they testified against themselves.

As hard as it is, our observances of a Holy Lent and Holy Week ask us to enter into the moment and discover ourselves on trial. When have we declared our loyalty to a person, a team, a party, and then backed off when there were questions, or there was prolonged losing, or we felt disappointed? When have we run away or kept silent as someone else was being hurt, or falsely accused, sometimes when they are not even present to defend themselves? When have we joined in at poking fun at someone different from ourselves, rather than standing apart from the laughter, or even taking on their defense?

Today we don’t just tell a story of an innocent man going to his death; through the liturgy we offer today, we re-enact the trial of all people, including ourselves. The stage is now set, let the liturgy now present the facts… How we confess with our lips but deny his rule by our lives. In the death of Jesus upon the cross, we are found guilty. No one came forward to rescue him. No one stayed when he was arrested. We could not be found. Many questions remain, and maybe we will never fully understand how we walk in their same footsteps. But the greatest proof of God’s love for Jesus and us is that Good Friday is not the end of the story.

Our epistle lesson comes from Paul’s letter to the Philippian church. Imagine my surprise when I discovered I’m been pronouncing the name of the place wrong for all of these years – they pronounce it with a long “E” at the end, not an “I” as it is written in English. It is the site of one of the first Christian churches in Europe, and he held a soft space for the people there in his heart. In this letter, Paul writes from prison, disappointed that he cannot go to them amid their current struggles. The second chapter is a hymn, probably adapted to a worship setting and deep in theological meaning, echoing some of the same theology as written into the Nicene Creed.

Here in Philippians 2, we hear a word about the incarnation of Jesus. Paul reminds them that Jesus did not seek escape from trouble or death, but took on his humanity fully, revealing something deeper and truer about his nature. Paul offers Jesus as an example of humility, hoping that they (and we) will follow Jesus’ example so that we can experience unity with him and one another, in our servanthood together and the sharing of common goals and beliefs.

Jesus’ trouble feels overwhelming when we hear the story from beginning to end, but his story does not end with today’s gospel reading – we know how the rest of the story goes. Jesus’ vindication came through resurrection – moving him from humility to glory. Ours comes as we receive his sacrificial gift and example so that we can be vindicated through him.[i] The story doesn’t end with death, and the cross of Jesus Christ becomes not a sentence of condemnation for those who abandoned him, but rather an instrument of forgiveness and mercy.

We start Palm Sunday with shouts of support and acclamation, but the liturgy quickly proceeds to the hard stuff, the dark underbelly of truth about those who surrounded Jesus… and the truth about us. In reality, this is a difficult day. It should be. We are asked to look in a mirror and see who we are and what we are capable of, both good and bad. We can announce our loyalty, but clearly, we can be persuaded to abandon that loyalty in short measure. We can say we are present with one another, but can also betray another for the sake of our safety and run away in times of trouble. These are not things we like to admit about ourselves. And they are certainly not the things we want to talk about with others.

Hearing the Passion story read aloud requires us to hear the whole story… not isolated verses, or bits and pieces of scripture, but the whole tragedy as it unfolds over a long and difficult night. Yet even as we see ourselves in the story we tell today through the liturgy, we are reminded that this day and this week are not about us; they are about God's love for us…a God who longs to be in relationship with us, as we are, and as he created us to be. Look at the lengths he is willing to go through to see that relationship grow and flourish. This day and this week are about a new relationship with God made possible by his love for us and all the world, and a reminder that the road to that relationship will often be more difficult than we imagine or expect.

So, enter this week in humility. Expect to see yourself in the frailty of people like Peter, Judas, the soldiers, and Pilate. Enter the week in joy, anticipating the power of God to work in and through our frailty to make us new through his mercy. Enter the week in thanks, for the hope we have depends not upon ourselves but upon a loving God who won't let us go, regardless of our sins. Amen.

In the 4^th century, a Cappadocian bishop name Gregory of Nazianzus, produced a series of writings exploring the Trinitarian nature of God in the scriptures. His summery of Paul’s letter to the Philippians gives us a down-to-earth statement of why Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection are so important to us. As you hear these words, think of Jesus’ last week, and of Paul’s hymn of exultation, which encourages us to not just take a step in Jesus’ shoes, but to become more like him.

Let us become like Christ, since Christ also became like us; let us become gods because of him, since he also because of us became human. He assumed what is worse that he might give what is better. He became poor that we through his poverty might become rich. He took the form of a slave, that we might regain freedom. He descended that we might be lifted up, he was tempted that we might be victorious, he was dishonored to glorify us, he died to save us, he ascended to draw to himself us who lay below in the Fall of sin. Let us give everything, offer everything, to the one who gave himself as a ransom and an exchange for us. But one can give nothing comparable to oneself, understanding the mystery and becoming because of him everything that he became because of us. [Gregory of Nazianzus, Festal Orations, p. 59].[ii]

In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Peace, Deb

[i] Bob Cornwall, TAKING THE ROAD OF HUMILITY - LECTIONARY READING FOR PASSION SUNDAY (PHILIPPIANS 2), April 4, 2022, https://www.bobcornwall.com/2022/04/taking-road-of-humility-lectionary.html

[ii] Ibid.

Sunday, March 27, 2022

Sermon - The God Who Welcomes Us Home (Lent 4C)

FOURTH SUNDAY OF LENT, YEAR C March 27, 2022

2 Corinthians 5:17-21; Luke 15:11-32 Panzer Liturgical Service

Today’s parable is the third in a series of stories Jesus told about being lost and being found. The parables of the lost sheep and the lost coin are straightforward, at least for most of us. Each of us has some memory of turning the house upside down to look for something of value that we have misplaced. I think that one of the benefits of being in a state of constant moving is finding things we thought were gone forever, usually in the back of a drawer or under a piece of furniture.

But if you ask someone to name a parable, this along with The Good Samaritan and The Sower is perhaps one of the best-known stories from the New Testament. People of all ages recognize it as the parable of the Prodigal Son, probably because that’s how it is labeled in most of our bibles. And because we know it so well, when we hear it, we begin to identify with at least one of the characters. One person might say, "I am the youngest child, too, so I understand how this youngest child might want to get out of the shadow of that older brother and go out on his own." Or maybe someone who was the oldest child might think, "Yea, the baby always gets the breaks. My parents were never that easy with me." Or maybe we even identify with the father and really know the joy of homecoming and what it means to have what was broken made whole again.

Reconciliation. In the Revised Common Lectionary, this passage appears with epistle and Old Testament passages that also speak of reconciliation – reconciliation between members of the family of God, and reconciliation between us and God. And the parable contains several examples which highlight those understandings.

The younger son swallows his pride and comes home, willing to accept the shame he feels he deserves for his irresponsible behavior. But instead of rejection, the son is welcomed, "with opened arms,” and we experience the father's joy and acceptance of his young son's homecoming as evidence of and a model for the kind of forgiveness that God and Christ call for us to model in our own lives. We even see the father building a bridge between the two sons, attempting to reach a level of reconciliation between them so that they might all be able to celebrate together. But this is more than a nice story about reconciliation. There is a lot more this story has to teach us.

We call this the parable of the prodigal son. But what does “prodigal” mean? Webster’s Dictionary says that it spending money or using resources freely and recklessly; wastefully extravagant. This definition encompasses all of the negative understandings we have about the younger son and his behavior. We look at the younger son and especially if we are the oldest children, it brings back many of the memories we have about our younger siblings and our perceptions about how we grew up.

But the word prodigal also means, having or giving something on a lavish scale. This definition takes away the negative feelings we have about the younger son and brings into light the amazing gift of love that the father was sharing with both sons.

Jesus tells a story of a younger son coming home to open arms, with the father throwing a celebration dinner in his honor. And as expected, the older son was incensed. Can't you just hear him grumbling, "This is not fair. Look at all the stupid things he’s done and my father just welcomes him back... with open arms and then throws a party as if none of it ever happened. Can you believe it?"

Whether we want to admit it or not, we feel some of those same things. When we see ourselves as hard workers and others as getting something for nothing, it’s hard not to get mad or hold resentment for others in our hearts and in the way we respond to them.[1]

Today, we are called to hear this parable with new ears. The younger son gave up the life he had to find his way, but through wasteful spending and living, he lost everything of value, except the hope that his father would not send him away if he came back. The older son stayed home and took care of business, the model of appropriate behavior, if not thought. He didn’t understand that while the younger brother might not have a place in the family business, he would always have a place in the father’s heart.

This is not just a story of prodigal sons who wasted family assets and threw away family relationships. This is also a story of a prodigal father, who loved extravagantly, welcoming home a lost son and encouraging a faithful son to become a united family again, no matter what happened in the past.

Philip Yancey tells a story about a young girl from Traverse City, MI. She has an ongoing battle with her parents about the clothes she wears and the company she keeps. She finally runs away makes it as far as Detroit. On her second day, she meets a man who offers her a ride, buys her lunch, and promises her a safe place to stay. He gives her some pills to make her feel better, and you can imagine the rest of the story. For a little more than a year, her life is pretty good, except for the men who visit nightly. But when she gets sick, the man she has come to depend on takes her away from her comfortable surroundings and leaves her on the street with just the clothes on her back and without a penny to her name.

As winter approaches, she finds herself sleeping on the grates outside a large department store, with one eye open to those who might want to do her harm. One morning she wakes up and realizes that at least if she went home, someone would feel obligated to help her out. So she leaves a message on her parent’s voicemail that she will be arriving on the bus that night, and if no one is there to meet her, she will just keep going to Canada.

As the bus approaches Traverse City, Cherry Capital of the World, she is afraid. And as the bus turned the corner, she is overwhelmed to see every relative she has - parents, siblings, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins, wearing goofy party hats and holding signs proclaiming, “Welcome Home” and “We’ve missed you!”

She starts to share with her dad all the things she has been thinking of on the bus, but he just wraps her up in his arms and says, “No time for that now – you don’t want to be late for your party – we can’t believe you’re finally back home.”[2]

Amy-Jill Levine, professor of New Testament and Jewish Studies at Vanderbilt University, reminds us that God always goes to meet people where they are. The Jewish listeners among Jesus’ disciples would hear this story and think of all the families in God’s story who had two sons… and how many of them had the same problems this father in Jesus’ parable had. In God’s world, older sons don’t always stay in the father’s good graces and younger sons often look like they are getting an unfair break.

And while we may think that the father is showing favoritism to the younger son, that is not the case. Not only does the father meet the younger son before he has even gotten back to the front door, but he also went out to bring the older son to the party, reminding him that he has lost nothing even as his younger brother is welcomed back as if nothing he did in the past matters. This trio of parables tell us that finding the lost, reclaiming children, and gaining a new understanding of what it means to be family is not only good news for the Jews but for everyone who hears this new, better good news about God and Jesus.[3]

The God we worship is a generous, extravagant, prodigal God… who forgives our sins, stands with us in our joy, and holds us up in our pain. But amid that generosity, comes this news… that God did not just forgive my sin, or your sin, but also the sin of those who, to us, seem unforgivable.

Our God is not an either/or God, but is a both/and God. And even beginning to understand the scope of God's love and forgiveness helps us to know God in a new and deeper way. And in the process, we learn a very important lesson — that however much we may want to, we cannot draw the lines which define how God's grace is going to operate. God will be who God will be.

Paul talks about this in his second letter to the Corinthians. In Christ, we are a new creation, and we are called to make peace with those who were previously our enemies. Love is now the pattern for our living. God doesn’t hold our sins against us, and that is how God is calling us to live toward others (and ourselves). We are ambassadors for Christ. We are called to appeal to others – to reconcile ourselves to them and bring them into the family of God.

John Newton was right. God's grace is amazing, and not only saves us from our sin but saves us from ourselves.

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me.

I once was lost, but now am found; was blind, but now I see.

Through many dangers, toils, and snares, I have already come;

‘Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far, and grace will lead me home.

Jesus didn’t give us parables to teach us how to live. He gave them to change our notions about who God is and who God loves.[4] Whomever we identify within this story, from whatever slant we read it, in its entirety, this parable tells us who we are as God’s children, and who God is as Parent of us all. This is not just a parable about reconciliation. It is also a parable about the Kingdom of God.

A man had two sons, one went away and made a lot of mistakes, and one stayed home and was faithful. And when the one who went away came home in disgrace, the father loved him and celebrated his return. And when the one who stayed home was upset, the father reminded him that his love is big enough to love both of them and that homecoming is worth all the celebration in the world.

Peace, Deb

[1] Debie Thomas, Letters to Prodigals, Journey With Jesus, 2/28/2016
http://journeywithjesus.net/essays/856-letters-to-prodigals
[2] Philip Yancey, What’s So Amazing About Grace, 1997, pp 50-51.
[3] Amy-Jill Levine, Short Stories by Jesus, Chapter 1: Lost Sheep, Lost Coin, Lost Son, 2014, pg 29.
[4] Yancey, p 53.
See also David Lose, Lent 4C – The Prodigal God, …In the Meantime (2/28/2016) http://www.davidlose.net/2016/02/lent-4-c-the-prodigal-god/
[5] https://www.christianaid.org.uk/churches/weekly-worshi