A few months ago, I joined our local Rotary chapter as their Spiritual Representative. Rotary is a 100 year old organization helping professional and business leaders serve their wider community. It’s a worldwide organization I knew of (and even received a college scholarship from) but one that was a bit of a mystery to me. Prior to my joining, I couldn’t tell you what Rotary did or why they existed. I didn’t know their history or who was attracted to the organization. I knew they existed because their meeting times were posted on signs marking the boundaries of towns. I knew they had a physical presence but I was unaware of what went on in their meeting spaces. It wasn’t until I was invited to participate in the group that I saw their commitment to service and the different projects they support. I’m still learning more about the organization, but I’m looking forward to bringing my Lutheran Christian perspective into a group looking for new ways to nurture our wider community.
At one of their recent meetings, one of the main topics was how to grow the Rotary group. They’re looking to increase membership, and I was surprised with how similar that conversation was to every conversation about membership held in a faith community. People shared their own experiences of the group and how it changed their lives. People also were hopeful the group would grow larger because they wanted others to have the same experiences as them. They also were honest that, a few decades ago, the group was larger, younger and full of a different kind of vitality. But they were also honest that the group wasn’t always welcoming to others. And folks lamented how hard it is for people to commit to things in our modern context.
Many times when conversations like this are held, a lot of energy is spent on wish-casting. We wish things were different, but we’re not sure how to make it so. We feel as if we don’t have the tools, insights or even the permission to make this wish come true. We hope other people with more suitable gifts can do what is needed to make our wish a reality. Our wish is a good wish because we want others to have the same experiences we had. If we felt loved, valued and included, we want others to have the same experience. It isn’t wrong to make wishes, yet we often don’t realize that we already have the gifts needed to invite others into the place that has given us so much grace. What we need is help seeing how that grace has manifested in our lives and how we can, just as we are, invite others to see that same grace also.
That’s one of the reasons why our ongoing sermon-series on cultivating our creative spirit will continue in July. Unlike other organizations, we want to invite others into a deeper relationship with the God who created them, lived and died for them, and will sustain them through all the joys and struggles of life. We can do that by nurturing our ability to see Jesus at work in our lives. Instead of inviting people into church, we can invite them to know Jesus who loves them right now. After we practice seeing Jesus all around us, we’ll move into a short series on joy and happiness (and how they’re not the same thing). My hope is once we near the start of our programming year we’ll move into a series on vocations: what they are, how many we have and how faith is meant for our everyday life. We can, together, learn to see Jesus a little more clearly and in our own particular ways invite others to see Jesus too.
I will seeya in the many different ways we are the church! Pastor Marc
[Jesus said:] “And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life. For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.
Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him. Those who believe in him are not condemned; but those who do not believe are condemned already, because they have not believed in the name of the only Son of God. And this is the judgment, that the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil. For all who do evil hate the light and do not come to the light, so that their deeds may not be exposed. But those who do what is true come to the light, so that it may be clearly seen that their deeds have been done in God.”
John 3:14-21
My sermon from the Fourth Sunday in Lent (March 14, 2021) on John 3:14-21.
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So for today’s sermon, I want to begin with a question that I’ve been sitting with for awhile: how do we hold the fullness of the past while still living into the future?
You might know that I didn’t grow up in Northern New Jersey. And if I wanted to visit my childhood home, I’d need to drive about 1,792 miles west. My hometown of Littleton, Colorado, was once the southern boundary of the Denver Metropolitan area. But over time, suburban sprawl pushed the boundary outwards. And new cities with hundreds of thousands of people now exist in places where I once watched antelope graze. Now, my high school was Arapahoe High School and it was larger than Pascack Valley and Pascack Hills combined. The school was known for its academics and it has a pretty good soccer team. It probably wouldn’t surprise you to know that I was one of the more nerdy kids while there. And while high school was definitely not perfect, they at least didn’t want our 4 years there to be the peak of our lives. A few years before I attended Arapahoe, there was a bit of a controversy. For decades, their mascot was the Warrior – which could have been very generic. But since the high school was named after one of the Native American tribes that once called the area home, the decision was made to make the mascot a caricature of what white Americans imagined indian warriors to be. The mascot was typically depicted as a face turned to its side. He had piercing anger filled eyes, a high forehead, strong nose, and a mohawk on top. He also wore feathers and other accessories that were actually part of Eastern Native American cultures rather than anything out West. No effort was made to have the mascot fit the Arapaho nation. And for decades, that mascot told a story that remembered why it was called Arapahoe but one that wasn’t interested in looking past its founding. And that’s because the Arapaho nation had been forcibly removed from the area in the late 1870s after the United States broke treaty after treaty it signed with the tribe. Some of its members were eventually moved 500 miles north, to the Wind River Reservation in Wyoming. But sometime in the late 1980s, members of the student body, some alumni, and administrators decided to dig deeper into its story. They dug deeper into a vision of history bigger than just the students who ever called Arapahoe High School home. That journey eventually led to the Northern Arapaho Tribe and Arapahoe High School forming a relationship. The relationship included a kind of truth telling, where the school reflected on how the mascot wasn’t telling the full story of its past. It had appropriated a version of an identity while ignoring everything that made that identity what it was. The Tribe told the school they could continue using the Warrior as its mascot but the tribe would teach them what a warrior was all about. A new logo was designed by a member of the tribe, Wilbur Antelope, and was a portrait of their tribal elder, Anthony Sitting Eagle. The two communities promised to visit each other every-other-year, sharing their stories, traditional dances, celebrating accomplishments, and mourning together when crisis struck. Each year, the tribe provided a scholarship for the valedictorian of the high school even though Arapahoe High School is in a very affluent area and the Northern Arapaho Tribe suffers with generational poverty. In the words of Lone Bear, “To [the Northern Arapaho Tribe], being a warrior means going to battle for what’s right, taking care of your family, and passing on knowledge.” And what’s passed on is a full story that does not sugar coat, romanticize, or ignore how the past forms our present and our future. Rather, it faces who we are so that we can become something more.
Today’s reading from John is part of a conversation Jesus had with a man named Nicodemus. The conversation took place at night and I like to imagine it beginning with Jesus sitting alone in a room. The glow from a small oil lamp illuminated his face and he was trying to wind down after a busy day of preaching and teaching. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door and instead of blowing out the lamp and pretending he wasn’t there, Jesus opened the door and Nicodemus walked in. The conversation began with Nicodemus making one of those statements that was really a bit of a question. He said he recognized Jesus’ connection to God because “no one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God.” Now that affirmed a little of Jesus’ own identity but it might also have been an attempt by Nicodemus to get Jesus to do what we all love to do: and that’s talk about ourselves. By affirming his connection to God, Nicodemus might have wanted some more backstory of how that was possible. Jesus could have then shared his story like we share ours: making himself look a little more faithful; a little smarter; and definitely a lot cooler than he actually was. But he could probably have done something we can’t do: step outside the bounds of history and see how different actions by different people over different time periods formed the complex reality we’re just trying to live in. We’re not always good at holding together the parts of our story we are active participants in and the other bits we are given: like our culture, our background, our opportunities, and those things we assume are just how things are. Nicodemus might have expected Jesus to do the same – to tell a cherry picked version of what it means to be the Son of God. But if Jesus had done that, he wouldn’t have been able to tell his full story – one that was going to include the Cross. So instead of talking about himself, Jesus instead turned the conversation around. He poke and prodded at Nicodemus until Nicodemus suddenly found himself in a fuller version of God’s story; one that wasn’t over quite yet. Because Jesus’ ministry wasn’t only centered on where he was from but, rather, on where he was going. What mastered wasn’t that Jesus was part of the Trinity or that he was there when creation came into being. What made Jesus’ story Jesus’ story was that God entered our lives and our world because God’s love couldn’t do anything less. God wouldn’t let the partial stories of our past, our present, and what we imagine our future to be – to limit what God knows we can be. The story of God’s love can hold the truths of our past and the reality of our present while propelling us into a future that is full of hope.
As followers of Jesus, we sometimes struggle with the fullness of our story. When we examine bits and pieces of our history – the parts that are personal and the parts that include the people who came before us – we’re not always ready to celebrate its true beauty or admit how harsh it actually was. We tend to add a buffer to the story so that we can be isolated ourselves from history. Yet we seem to know how interconnected our stories actually are because we take personally any judgment leveled against the past. It’s okay to be proud or sad or indifferent or excited about the story of who we are and the story we tell about ourselves. But that story of our past was never meant to justify the future God already has in mind for us. Because when you were baptized and graced with faith in God – you were given a promise that your yesterday and your today will not be the limit of your tomorrow. Rather, the love of God would be gifted to you and the Son of God – Jesus Christ himself – would be a companion with you through whatever life brings your way. No longer are you limited to the story you tell about yourself. You are wrapped up in the story of God who sent Jesus not to condemn the world but to save it. And that future doesn’t begin tomorrow – it begins today. We get to tell a fuller story of who we are; where we’ve come from; and how we inherited things beyond our control. Yet we don’t need to be limited by what the past says we can be; instead, we can embrace the future as God declares it will be. And that future is full of love; full of welcome; full of inclusion; full of new life; and full of people just like you – those who have sometimes made bad choices; sometimes denied the dignity of others; sometimes failed to see the image of God in their neighbor; and – at our best – have loved complete strangers just like Jesus loves us. We get to be oriented towards God’s future rather than by our limited view of our past. And we get to live that way right now – because your eternal life has already started.
Then [Jesus] began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again. He said all this quite openly. And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. But turning and looking at his disciples, he rebuked Peter and said, “Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.” He called the crowd with his disciples, and said to them, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life? Indeed, what can they give in return for their life? Those who are ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of them the Son of Man will also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels.”
Mark 8:31-38
My sermon from First Sunday in Lent (February 28, 2021) on Mark 8:31-38.
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One of the easiest ways to cause a problem in your relationship is to speak up in a very public setting. For example, let’s say you’re out with friends and everyone was having fun. One of your friends made a light hearted comment and then you, without thinking, turned that comment into a joke at their expense. Or maybe your coworker was telling a story but left out something that’s a little embarrassing. That little detail had no bearing on the outcome of the story but you couldn’t help to speak up and reveal what they didn’t want you to share. Or maybe you and your loved one were having an argument. It was simmering for a while and it wasn’t resolved. You were starting to feel a little bit resentful and while staying up way too late scrolling through social media, you made a post, turning your private conflict into one that’s now very public. Not everything in our relationships is designed for public consumption. And I know, personally, how easy it is to create drama by inadvertently crossing that line. We don’t always mean to call attention to our friends in a way that makes them defensive. But it’s sometimes easier doing that than telling them, “we need to talk.” What we need to do is own up to the truth that these kinds of one-on-one conversations are really hard. They aren’t always easy but they can be the one thing we’re supposed to do. So I wonder if Peter, in our reading today from the gospel according to Mark, was trying to do a hard thing. I know he usually gets a bad wrap when we read this passage because it takes a certain amount of gumption to messiah-splain to the Son of God. Yet if Peter really wanted to call out Jesus in an unintentional or difficult way, I imagine he would have done so in front of all the disciples. Instead Peter waited for an opportunity to pull Jesus aside and say, “hey, we need to talk.” Peter did the hard thing – and Jesus responded by doing everything you’re not supposed to do when tending to a relationship.
Now before we go too deep into Jesus’ actions, it’s important to set the stage of what’s happening in our reading. Jesus and his followers were approaching the city of Caesarea Philippi. Caesarea was founded by Herod the Great’s son – Herod Philip – and his kingdom included parts of Galilee, Syria, and Jordan. Caesarea Philippi became the administrative center of his little empire which is why he named it after himself. But Herod Philip also decided to use the name of the city to flatter the person who gave him his power. Caesarea was named after Caesar – aka the Roman Emperor. Herod Philip ruled the area because the Roman Empire, which controlled the region, let him rule. Without their authority and power, Herod was nothing. So he filled the city with Roman imagery, Roman statues, and they even built a temple honoring the Roman Emperors outside the city. As Jesus and his disciples neared this very Roman looking city, Peter confessed that Jesus was the Messiah. Peter’s confession was more than just a theological or spiritual statement. It was also a political one – because if Jesus is Lord – that means the Emperor – and those who supported him – were not. By saying Jesus was the Messiah, Peter was proclaiming that the structure of power in our world was about to change. Jesus’ ministry wasn’t only only about taking care of people’s souls; he was also going to take care of their bodies, their ideologies, and the ways they live with one another. Jesus’ good news for the poor was literally that – good news for the marginalized; the pushed aside; and those without power. But any good news for them was also anything but for those who enjoyed power in the here and now. Peter couldn’t wait to see God’s compassion for the marginalized realized in his lifetime. But when Jesus started talking about suffering, pain, and this…thing used by the Roman Empire to maintain their power and control – Peter felt compelled to say to Jesus: “hey, we need to talk.” Peter wasn’t being malicious but he couldn’t imagine God’s love bringing about a kind of conflict where the Empire, rather than Jesus, would win.
Now, I don’t know what Peter expected when he pulled Jesus aside – but he probably didn’t plan for his private conversation to become very public. Not only did Jesus bring their conversation back to the disciples – he then included the entire crowd. In fact, we’re still reading about Jesus calling Peter “Satan” 2000 years later – which is usually not really a great way to keep a relationship with each other. Peter, after witnessing Jesus’ fame grow and after experiencing Jesus’ power, assumed Jesus would install himself into a position of authority that held power over others. Jesus would become a kind of benevolent emperor – a kinder version of the type of ruler they had all grown up with. But Jesus, as the Son of God, didn’t need to be installed in to power. He already had it. The difference, however, was that he wasn’t interested in what we imagine power to be all about. What he wanted – what he practiced – and what he taught – was a power with others and one that would heal the world. It’s why he ate meals with sinners and hung out with the poor rather than the rich. It’s why he healed people on the sabbath – not letting people suffer even one day more. And it’s why he wouldn’t allow the maintaining of the status quo interfere with the giving – and sharing – of life. In the words of Ira Digger, “Mark is saying that the Son of God will not dial down his ministry to spare his own life, or even to ease his suffering. His commitment to the healing of humanity literally knows no limits.” The power Jesus lived out was a power meant to help others – regardless of their social status, their identities, their genders, their ages, or their wealth – to thrive. His mission in the world was, by default, going to disrupt the world. And so that’s why the world’s response to that kind of disruption – is always the Cross.
Now it’s a bit strange to talk about Jesus’ ministry of healing in the midst of an ongoing pandemic. I know too many people who’ve been infected by COVID-19 in just the last few weeks. If there’s anything I want right now, it’s Jesus’ healing of the world. But I’m also mindful of how I want that healing to just be a return to how things were. We all want this disruption to end but that doesn’t mean we’re always open to the kind of disruption Jesus’ healing actually brings. We want a return to normal but Jesus was never in the business of letting things remain the same. God always comes to us in love and that’s why we try to resist it. We want Jesus to move in our world but only on our terms. We are fine with God’s love as long as we don’t have to give up our ideas of freedom, of power, of position, or our points of view. We’re okay with Jesus as long as Jesus doesn’t ask us and our communities to change too much. And we assume that good news can only be good if it caters to us. Yet God won’t let us get in the way of a love and a hope and a way of being in the world that lets God be God and lets let’s life, not the Cross, be what we share with all. There is a cost to being a disciple of Jesus – and that means we are called to give up ways we resist what God is doing in our world. We need to give up limiting who deserves love and who doesn’t; we need to give up limiting our attention to only people who are like us; we need to give up the ways our social status and power requires others to make adjustments for us; and we need to lean into relationships with all people instead of only a chosen few. We need – in a way – to be like Peter and Jesus. We need to refuse to give up on one another. Because even when Peter thought Jesus got it wrong and when Jesus called out Peter for all time – they doubled down their commitment to each other. Even when we get our relationship wrong; even when we say something we shouldn’t; and even when something private becomes way too public; we can commit ourselves to being Jesus’ good news in our world. And this is something we can do because in your baptism, in your faith, and in this very moment – Jesus has already made the promise to never give up on you.
Jesus said: “Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them; for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven. “So whenever you give alms, do not sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, so that they may be praised by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your alms may be done in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.“And whenever you pray, do not be like the hypocrites; for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, so that they may be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.“And whenever you fast, do not look dismal, like the hypocrites, for they disfigure their faces so as to show others that they are fasting. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, so that your fasting may be seen not by others but by your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal; but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”
Matthew 6:1-6,16-21
My sermon from Ash Wednesday (February 17, 2021) on Matthew 6:1-6,16-21.
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So I’d like to start tonight’s sermon with a little experiment. Take a look at everyone who surrounds you. If you’re by yourself, think about a few neighbors or family members or friends. Take a moment to really focus on everything that makes them who they are. Examine their clothes, the features of their face, the way they laugh, and the opinions they hold. Make sure your entire focus is directed at them. And then – once you feel as if you are totally absorbing who they are – make a detailed list of everyone of their sins.
Now, if your eyes just grew wide, know that mine did too. And the truth is that I don’t actually want you to make such a list – especially since I want the rest of your night with your spouse, your children, and your friends to be peaceful. But I do wonder what your reaction was to that request. Did your eyes, like mine, get big? Were you surprised to be asked to make such a list on the first day of Lent? Or did you notice that you already had such a list in mind? You might have found yourself, in a split second, feeling full of judgement. You started criticizing their choice in jeans, the ways they eat, and how you’re always the one who makes plans to connect with family and friends. Your list could have included things you’ve brought up before or maybe only things you’ve kept to yourself. And it might have been surprising to see how many minor annoyances we automatically label as sins. Not everything that bugs us is necessarily a sin but we all struggle to live as if God’s kingdom has come near. Every day, we have to do the hard work of living with the fact that not everyone in the world thinks or acts like us. But we are pretty good at identifying other people’s problems. That doesn’t mean we’re actually right in the conclusions we draw, but we’re really efficient when it comes to seeing what we imagine to be other people’s sins. I wonder if we do that because human beings can be very outward focus. Our eyes look outside of us and our ears are tuned to listen to what’s around us. Even the voice we speak sounds much different from the voice we hear in our heads. In some ways, we are designed to be outward facing at all times. And it can take work to shift our focus towards ourselves.
So what if I asked you to make a different kind of list. Instead of asking you to name the sins other people have – what would it be like to make a detailed list of your own? What would it take to name all the ways you act as if you are the center of the world and how hard it is to believe that we’re not? Our initial list might feel pretty general but I bet we could make it be as detailed as the list we made about others. This list wouldn’t be a tool we use to harm our sense of self – to enhance the lies the world – or our selves – tell us. Rather, it would simply be an attempt to list the truths we refuse to hide. And it would be a list that God already knows. A shift from looking outwards and cultivating what’s inside of us – is one of the things, I think, Jesus is getting at in our reading from the gospel according to Matthew.
Now this passage is one we read every Ash Wednesday and it comes from the middle of Jesus’ great sermon on the mount. Matthew placed that sermon at the start of Jesus’ ministry – an attempt, I think, to try and describe what fueled the inner life of Christ. For Matthew, the presence of God was fleshed out not only in the reality of Jesus but also in his preaching and teaching. He wanted to give us a sense of what fueled Jesus and helped him change the lives of so many people who were outside of him. And that interplay between who we are, whose we are, and how that impacts the world around us – was something Jesus touched on often. He knew that faith and God’s love took seriously who we really are. That includes not only what we do but also what we think, what we believe, and what we feel. He was mindful of every relationship that we have and how outward focus we can be. Yet everything we live through and everything we do is experienced, expressed, and generated by our body and our mind. When we focus on what outsides of us, that focus still comes from somewhere. And Jesus wanted us to be mindful of who we are so that we can become the people God knows we can be.
So when we listen to Jesus’ words about hypocrites, we shouldn’t just blankly dismiss the people he talked about. They – like us – were people practicing their faith. They prayed. They fasted. They made financial gifts to their faith communities and those who are in need. They took time to nurture their relationship with God – and yet Jesus was aware of how easy the life of faith can become so outwardly focused, it forgets where that focus comes from. And if the fuel for our faith relies primarily on the attention others give us, then our faith actually becomes unsustainable. Because there will be times when the attention we receive will be harmful or non-existent. And there will be moments when grief, sadness, pain, and suffering make it too hard to believe. We might even find ourselves too busy for God or having so much joy in our life that we end up acting as if we do need any more God. What sustains our faith cannot depend on what others – or ourselves – give to us. Rather, we need God and the promise that Jesus will never let us go.
So what is a practice of faith that keeps Jesus close to us and helps us hold onto the fuel for the life we actually live? Well, one answer to that question comes from the verses we didn’t hear today. In the gap between verses 6 and 16 – Matthew included this:
“Pray then in this way: Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come. Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors. And do not bring us to the time of trial, but rescue us from the evil one. For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you; but if you do not forgive others, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.”
Those verses probably sound familiar and that’s because they’re Matthew’s version of the Lord’s Prayer. And that prayer is more than just something we recite because Jesus told us too. Rather, he knew that these words serve as a kind of corrective when we default to an outward focused identity. When we pray the Lord’s prayer – we are reminding ourselves that there is a God – and that we’re not it. We hold tight to the truth that God’s kingdom will come; that our food, clothing, shelter, and wealth are gifts; and that God is leading us even when we are too busy to notice Jesus in our life. This prayer reminds us that God’s forgiveness is what helps us forgive others. And that the gift of faith is sustained not by what we do, or what we read, or what we are taught. But that faith itself is a gift from God – and the fuel for the life we are called to live. When we tend to ourselves, we are taking care of what God uses to love the world. The Lord’s prayer is just one of the gifts God gave us to cultivate a faithful inner life. God also gave us the gift of therapy, the gift medication, and the gift that each one of us can learn to truly listen to the people around us. And that might be one way we can lean into this season of Lent. We can take these 40 days and 6 Sundays as an opportunity to tend to what fuels us. Because the list of sins – the one we make for other people and the one we make ourselves – is not the sum of what the life of faith is all about. Rather, in your baptism and in your faith – you are given the gifts of hope, peace, love, and Jesus himself – to fuel who you truly are. Jesus expects those who follow him to practice their faith – which is why he said “when” rather than “if” all over this passage. So that’s something we can do – in church, in our homes, with our families, and even on our own. We can tend to ourselves so that the true treasures of heaven can be expressed in our lives, in our loves, and in the hope God gifts to the world.
[Jesus] came to a Samaritan city called Sychar, near the plot of ground that Jacob had given to his son Joseph. Jacob’s well was there, and Jesus, tired out by his journey, was sitting by the well. It was about noon.
A Samaritan woman came to draw water, and Jesus said to her, ‘Give me a drink’. (His disciples had gone to the city to buy food.) The Samaritan woman said to him, ‘How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?’ (Jews do not share things in common with Samaritans.) Jesus answered her, ‘If you knew the gift of God, and who it is that is saying to you, “Give me a drink”, you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water.’ The woman said to him, ‘Sir, you have no bucket, and the well is deep. Where do you get that living water? Are you greater than our ancestor Jacob, who gave us the well, and with his sons and his flocks drank from it?’ Jesus said to her, ‘Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty. The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.’ The woman said to him, ‘Sir, give me this water, so that I may never be thirsty or have to keep coming here to draw water.’ Jesus said to her, ‘Go, call your husband, and come back.’ The woman answered him, ‘I have no husband.’ Jesus said to her, ‘You are right in saying, “I have no husband”; for you have had five husbands, and the one you have now is not your husband. What you have said is true!’ The woman said to him, ‘Sir, I see that you are a prophet. Our ancestors worshipped on this mountain, but you say that the place where people must worship is in Jerusalem.’ Jesus said to her, ‘Woman, believe me, the hour is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem. You worship what you do not know; we worship what we know, for salvation is from the Jews. But the hour is coming, and is now here, when the true worshippers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for the Father seeks such as these to worship him. God is spirit, and those who worship him must worship in spirit and truth.’ The woman said to him, ‘I know that Messiah is coming’ (who is called Christ). ‘When he comes, he will proclaim all things to us.’ Jesus said to her, ‘I am he, the one who is speaking to you.’ Just then his disciples came. They were astonished that he was speaking with a woman, but no one said, ‘What do you want?’ or, ‘Why are you speaking with her?’ Then the woman left her water-jar and went back to the city. She said to the people, ‘Come and see a man who told me everything I have ever done! He cannot be the Messiah, can he?’ They left the city and were on their way to him.
Meanwhile the disciples were urging him, ‘Rabbi, eat something.’ But he said to them, ‘I have food to eat that you do not know about.’ So the disciples said to one another, ‘Surely no one has brought him something to eat?’ Jesus said to them, ‘My food is to do the will of him who sent me and to complete his work. Do you not say, “Four months more, then comes the harvest”? But I tell you, look around you, and see how the fields are ripe for harvesting. The reaper is already receiving wages and is gathering fruit for eternal life, so that sower and reaper may rejoice together. For here the saying holds true, “One sows and another reaps.” I sent you to reap that for which you did not labour. Others have labored, and you have entered into their labour.’
Many Samaritans from that city believed in him because of the woman’s testimony, ‘He told me everything I have ever done.’ So when the Samaritans came to him, they asked him to stay with them; and he stayed there for two days. And many more believed because of his word. They said to the woman, ‘It is no longer because of what you said that we believe, for we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this is truly the Savior of the world.’
John 4:5-42
My sermon from the Third Sunday in Lent (March 14, 2020) on John 4:5-42
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So what struck me about this reading today – was how the Samaritan Woman and Jesus both made choices in this passage. When she came to the well, she didn’t expect to meet anyone there. But she finds Jesus – who is sitting there and, in my head, I imagine he’s basically in her way. She needs to go near him to get to that well. And so she does – and that’s when he spoke to her. His words “give me a drink” are not the earth shattering faith-based words we might Jesus to say. But they do stop her in her tracks. Because she knows that what Jesus was doing was really odd – because he shouldn’t be talking to her in the first place. She’s a woman. She’s a Samaritan. And he’s a Jewish teacher. There’s a huge gender and religious barrier between the two that should cause both of them to keep their distance. The Samaritan and the Jewish community had different thoughts about who God is and where God is to be worshipped. Those differences had separated, over the centuries, separated these two communities. Jesus, in that moment, shouldn’t be talking to her. But he did. And that left her with a choice. She should have, according to their cultural expectations, just fill her bucket and gone home. She should have walked away. Yet she didn’t. She talked back. Because, by meeting him, her everyday suddenly changed.
But this connection wasn’t the only choice these two made. We also get a fun back and forth where Jesus and the Samaritan woman take a risk to reveal a bit of their story to one another. She revealed, even though she didn’t have to, a little bit about who she was. Yet she didn’t reveal her whole story – just a bit – just enough to make you wonder why she’s revealing her marital status to a strange man she just met at a well. She, in that moment, showed who she was – a person with a story worth telling but one she would tell on her own terms. And so Jesus, in his own way, did the same. He says, in this passage, something he hadn’t said before. He said, “I am he” – the Messiah. But the words he spoke were even bigger than that. He said “I am” – words that matched the ones God used when God revealed Gods-self to Moses way back in the book of Exodus. Moses asked for God’s name and God said “I Am.” Jesus chooses to reveal his identity to someone he shouldn’t be talking to. And she, at the same time, revealed who she was too. There is, in their relationship, a mutual revealing – a mutual sharing – of who they are. And in that sharing, she was invited into a new life – a new reality – where God revealed all the different kinds of stories from all the different kinds of people who belonged to God.
This Lent, we’re working on telling our faith story and we’re using the Pixar model of storytelling to do it. A few weeks ago, I invited you to think about a moment when Jesus was real to you. Savor that moment and then try to put that into words. First, set the stage for the story by finishing this sentence: “Once upon a time there was…” And once the story is set, spend time describing what made that day like every other day by finishing this sentence: “And every day . . .” Yet when Jesus showed up – when Jesus made himself known to you in a real, tangible, ordinary, and extraordinary kind of way – your everyday changed. Maybe not at first. Maybe not in a thunder and lightning kind of way. But your everyday changed because the promises made to you in your baptism and faith – of God’s presence, love, and hope – were no longer just words. They were made visible in your life – and revealed that those promises were already part of your story. Because once upon a time there was a Samaritan woman. And everyday she went to the well for water at noon. But one day, she revealed to someone she wasn’t supposed to a bit of her story. Your story, like the Samaritan’s woman, is worth telling. Your experience of Jesus is part of who you are. And so I invite you, in the middle of this weird time when we might struggle to feel as if Jesus is really here – lean into the promises that are already part of who you are. Then add to your Jesus story by finishing this sentence – But one day . . .
Now there was a Pharisee named Nicodemus, a leader of the Jews. 2 He came to Jesus by night and said to him, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God, for no one can do these signs that you do unless God is with that person.” 3 Jesus answered him, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above.” 4 Nicodemus said to him, “How can anyone be born after having grown old? Can one enter a second time into the mother’s womb and be born?” 5 Jesus answered, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit. 6 What is born of the flesh is flesh, and what is born of the Spirit is spirit. 7 Do not be astonished that I said to you, ‘You must be born from above.’ 8 The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.” 9 Nicodemus said to him, “How can these things be?” 10 Jesus answered him, “Are you the teacher of Israel, and yet you do not understand these things?
11 “Very truly, I tell you, we speak of what we know and testify to what we have seen, yet you do not receive our testimony. 12 If I have told you about earthly things and you do not believe, how can you believe if I tell you about heavenly things? 13 No one has ascended into heaven except the one who descended from heaven, the Son of Man. 14 And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, 15 that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.
16 “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. 17 “Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world but in order that the world might be saved through him.
John 3:1-17 (NRSVue)
My sermon from the Third Sunday in Lent (March 8, 2020) on John 3:1-17.
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One of skills I’ve never really developed is learning another language. And I consider that a problem because there are words in other languages that better describe certain experiences. For example, if you’ve ever dreamed up a comeback long after the other person has walked away and it’s no longer helpful – in German, that’s called, “Treppenwitz.” Or if you woke up this morning feeling completely unmotivated – in German, “Blaumachen.” The German language has a habit of having these kinds of great words that capture a moment in our life and I wish I could pronounce them correctly. Because there’s another German word that I first discovered two days ago that seems to fit our current moment here in Northern New Jersey as we face the reality of the coronavirus. And that “Hamsterkäufe” (Hams-ter-käu-fe).
“Hamsterkäufe” is literally a hamster with so much food in its mouth, its cheeks are bulging. But the word isn’t really about hamsters – it’s about people. It describes how, when faced with uncertainty, we try to soothe ourselves by buying more and more things. “Hamsterkäufe” is what happens when we use retail therapy to deal with the uncertainty of a pandemic. And this came to life for me two days ago when I went to Costco for my weekly shopping trip. At exactly 3 minutes after it opened, the store was in complete chaos. Gigantic lines snaked through the store, trying to buy bottles of water. And everyone grabbed anything that looked like it could be used as a disinfectant. People were buying anything they could to lower their fears – but I could tell that people didn’t really know what they should buy in the first place. We don’t really have a protocol or a default check-list of what to buy when facing an unknown virus. So instead, we default to what we do know: which is buying for a snowstorm or a hurricane. I wasn’t planning to buy any cleaning supplies on Friday but I found myself getting caught up in the moment and ended up a little “Hamsterkäufe” myself. When it comes to the coronavirus, there’s a lot we don’t know and that’s scary. It feels like we have to figure out, on the fly, how we make living through a pandemic part of our new normal.
Last week, I introduced our Lenten focus on learning how to tell your faith story. You, I truly believe, have a story worth telling but I know telling stories isn’t always easy. Over the next few weeks, we’re using Pixar’s storytelling process as a way to help tell our own story. We began last week by thinking about a moment when Jesus was real to us – and we set the stage for our story by finishing the sentence: Once upon a time there was . . . If you remember what you thought about last week, great. We’re going to build on that today. But if you need help, let’s use as an example our current coronavirus story. We should keep it personal – and so if I was sharing my story, I could begin with our worship committee working to make today’s worship safer for all of us. But I might want to start my story with what I saw at Costco. So my opening would be: Once upon a time there was. . . me – shopping on my weekly trip to Costco. That kind of start is simple, short, and introduces you to the person in the story that’s going to experience something. We might imagine that our faith story should start large and with something that seems important. But since it’s our story, it’s okay to start with the person who’s going to experience Jesus in the first place.
So now that our storytelling has started, what’s next? Well – today’s sermon title can help. We can use the phrase, “And then…” or something like “And every day…” as a way to share with others what’s our everyday reality. For example, In my coronavirus story, I could make the next part read: “And then…I tried to do my usual thing of getting whole milk out of the cooler.” There’s nothing big about that statement. But it does point to a moment in my life that looks like a thousand other moments that I’ve had. And that, I think, is the point. Because when we tell our faith story – we’re not just talking about Jesus. We’re also revealing a bit about who we are – and how Jesus, somehow, changed our everyday way of being in the world.
And we see this conversation about a new normal in our reading today from the gospel according to John. In a very Pixar kind of way, the story basically began with: “Once upon a time there was a Pharisee named Nicodemus.” Now Nicodemus was a leader in his Jewish community. He had, over the years, devoted himself to the study of the gifts of God – which includes the Torah, the law – and how that describes a way of being in the world. Nicodemus took seriously God’s call to love his neighbors and we should assume, I think, that Nicodemus kept God involved in all the parts of his story. If we were telling his story the Pixar way, we might next the part read: “And every day Nicodemus kept close to the promises of God.” And I think that’s exactly who Nicodemus was because when he heard Jesus was nearby, Nicodemus went to see him. He recognized that Jesus’ actions were signs of what life with God was all about. And those signs already matched Nicodemus’ experience of leaning into the promises of God. But when Jesus started talking about being “born from above,” Nicodemus was thrown for a loop. Nicodemus had grown old and had lived a life full of God and God’s promises. Jesus’ words were not working to replace Nicodemus’ Jewish identity. Rather, Jesus was laying out a vision of another gift from God – one rooted in the relationship Jesus was choosing to have with Nicodemus. This part of the story ends a few verses after John 3:17 and we never hear Nicodemus’ response. Instead, as Jesus’ story plays out – Nicodemus sort of fades into the background. Yet his story continues to grow – and we see him two more times in John. In chapter 7, he is with a gathering of the Jewish Sanhedrin – a leadership council – reminding others that a person must be heard before being judged. And then, near the end of the story, he pops up in the middle of chapter 19, helping Joseph of Arimathea give Jesus a proper burial. There’s actually a lot of Nicodemus’ story that we don’t know. We have no idea what his thoughts were after he heard verse 3:17 nor do we get the reason why he came back to Jesus in chapter 19. But what we do see is how the promise of God never left Nicodemus and that his connection to Jesus didn’t fade even when they were apart. Instead, it took time for Nicodemus to discover the new everyday way of being in the world Jesus already gave to him the moment they first met.
The German word “Hamsterkäufe” is a good word for how we try to make peace when we’re facing uncertainty. But there’s another word – an English word – that we can turn to when we’re unsure of what comes next: and that’s loved. We are, through Jesus, loved. And the love Jesus gives is not a one-time thing. It’s a love designed to last, helping to carry us through the trials we’re going through. It’s a love that is in the background, working on you even when you don’t know it’s there. And it’s a love that will always be of your story. In the face of uncertainty, like the coronavirus, we’re not sure what our story will look like. But we do know that, through Christ, we already have God’s love as our new normal. Our call is to lean into “Hamsterkäufe” as a way to find peace. Rather, we’re invited to lean into that love that Jesus has already given us. Like Nicodemus, it might take years before we realize what this love has done for us. But when we do, we will discover how love is the sign of who God – and you – really are. So as you keep writing the faith story you’re going to share – take a moment to think about what’s next. Go ahead and finish this sentence: “And every day . . .”
Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tested by the devil. 2 He fasted forty days and forty nights, and afterward he was famished. 3 The tempter came and said to him, “If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become loaves of bread.” 4 But he answered, “It is written, ‘One does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.’ ”
5 Then the devil took him to the holy city and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple, 6 saying to him, “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down, for it is written, ‘He will command his angels concerning you,’ and ‘On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.’ ” 7 Jesus said to him, “Again it is written, ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’ ”
8 Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their glory, 9 and he said to him, “All these I will give you, if you will fall down and worship me.” 10 Then Jesus said to him, “Away with you, Satan! for it is written, ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.’ ” 11 Then the devil left him, and suddenly angels came and waited on him.
Matthew 4:1-11 (NRSVue)
My sermon from the First Sunday in Lent, (March 1, 2020) on Matthew 4:1-11.
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One of the quirks of today’s story from the gospel according to Matthew is that we never hear why the devil chose this moment to tempt Jesus. There’s no flashback scene showing us the many ways the devil and Jesus didn’t get along. And there aren’t even a few words giving us insight into the devil’s planning for this moment. All we know is that after Jesus was baptized, God’s Spirit led him into the wilderness. Now, if we were writing this story, we might want to make the characters’ motivation more explicit. We could, for example, start our version of the story before the world was even made – and include some great battle between good and evil. Jesus and the devil would, at some point, stare at each other and then fight, sharing a few one-liners that would make any Marvel Superhero Movie proud. After the initial fight, we would then see the devil always lurking in the background. But we would also try to make it clear why the devil went after Jesus as an adult instead of, say, when Jesus was 9 or 10. We would make each temptation connected to the back Jesus and the devil both shared and each one would feel more personal and deadly than the last. I’m pretty sure that if we were the ones telling this story, we would use way more words than Matthew did. Because telling stories and making them come alive for others is actually hard. Storytelling is something that we can all do but it’s a skill that takes time for us to develop. And one of the core elements in storytelling – focusing on what’s central – isn’t always an easy thing to suss out.
So that makes me wonder, what do you think is central in this temptation of Jesus story? Now, I plan to share what I think is central but before that, I want you to answer that question for yourself. If you had to make this story real for someone else – where would your focus be?
[pause]
Now, if you didn’t come up with an answer, that’s okay. Because, like I said, storytelling is hard. And there’s a lot of things in this story about Jesus that we could make the center. It would be helpful if we had a model for storytelling that we could easily use to re-tell this Jesus story. Lucky for us, we see storytelling at work everyday. And some of these storytellers, we pay lots of money to watch their movies, buy their t-shirts, and own their toys. One of those kinds of storytellers that’s popular in my house is the animation studio Pixar. Since 1995, they’ve made some of the most popular movies in the world including Cars, Finding Nemo, Toy Story, and Coco. Their use of computer animation is pretty unique and defines their signature styles. But they also have a pattern they follow when it comes to telling their stories. And this method of storytelling that is what makes their movies about what toys do when we’re not looking or what jobs the monsters in our closets have – actually work. From what I’ve been told, their format follows a basic six part outline. It begins with: “Once upon a time there was…” They then expand their initial environment by adding “And every day…” But then something happens and they move into “Until one day…” The story then cycles through its ups and downs by repeating the phrase “And because of that…” over and over again. Eventually, the story then moves towards a resolution with “Until finally…” The story ends not with “and happily ever after,” but it sets up for a sequel with: “And ever since then…” This six part outline of telling a story is something we’ll spend time doing during Lent. And since today is the First Sunday in Lent, let’s focus on that first part: “Once upon a time there was…”
Because that opening, I think, is what sets the tone for what’s central in the story. It helps reveal the characters, the setting, and gives hints at what’s possible. Today’s reading from Matthew isn’t at the start of the book but the devil, I think, knows what’s central to the entire story. And the tempter revealed why he reached out to Jesus now by repeating the same phrase at the start of the first two temptations. Although it’s possible to act as if the tempter was asking a real question when they said “if you are the Son of God,” I find the tempter’s words in that moment to be way more sarcastic. The tempter knew who Jesus was because, right before this moment, Jesus was publicly identified by God as God’s Son during baptism. That declaration wasn’t hidden and it wasn’t meant only for the crowd gathered around Jesus that day. It was a word that made Jesus the center of the world’s story – and so, in response, the forces that wanted to be at the center instead, had to respond. The temptations, I don’t think, were not the central element of this story. Rather, it was Jesus himself. The tempter wanted to challenge Jesus’ own self-understanding. By poking at his very identity, the tempter was hoping Jesus would stumble. Instead of keeping himself at the center of the story, the tempter tried to make personal desires, a sense of self-importance, and the lust of power and control, be that focus instead. The devil knew Jesus’ story would end if there was anything else that stood at its center. But Jesus, instead, refused to let anything else stand in the place where he belonged.
Yet I’m pretty sure we’re all familiar with what it’s like to live lives where isn’t always at the center. We can get so wrapped up in the busyness of our lives that we end up giving permission to something else to define the heart of who we are. This shifting away from Jesus is something we can choose to do – but this shift also happens without our being aware it has. It sort of sneaks up on us and we find ourselves living lives where self-interest, personal desires, and power over others defines the choices we make as individuals and as a community. Instead of living in love, we live in fear. Instead of taking a risk and showing mercy, we ignore those in need. Instead of staying open to the diversity within the body of Christ and in our world, we close ranks around those who already think, believe, and act like we do. We think Jesus is at the center of our story – but we end up putting our trust, focus, and identity into everything else.
Today’s story, I think, is less about avoiding temptation and more about keeping Jesus at the center of our story. It’s the belief that the story of who we are cannot be fully told unless the Jesus who claimed us in baptism and in faith is part of the story we tell. And we need to learn – and relearn – how to tell it. Our faith story is exactly that – our own. It doesn’t have to be as big and wild as a Pixar movie to be meaningful and true. Instead, it just needs to be ours – honest, authentic, and that names the moments when Jesus felt present and when he didn’t. Our faith story, as we grow, will change and evolve. But by telling the story, we give witness to the truth that Jesus refuses to give up on us, no no matter how many other things we make central. So, this Lent, let’s learn how to re-tell your faith story. Think about your faith and that moment when Jesus became real to you. It could start with a parent, a grandparent, or yourself. It could involve a specific place, a specific time of your life, or a specific experience you had. Start thinking about who Jesus is to you – and let’s have the Pixar model of storytelling help you tell your Jesus story. And we can start by using that space in the back of the bulletin by my reflection to finish that sentence: “Once upon a time there was…”
20 So we are ambassadors for Christ, since God is making his appeal through us; we entreat you on behalf of Christ: be reconciled to God. 21 For our sake God made the one who knew no sin to be sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.
6 As we work together with him, we entreat you also not to accept the grace of God in vain. 2 For he says, “At an acceptable time I have listened to you, and on a day of salvation I have helped you.”
Look, now is the acceptable time; look, now is the day of salvation! 3 We are putting no obstacle in anyone’s way, so that no fault may be found with our ministry, 4 but as servants of God we have commended ourselves in every way: in great endurance, afflictions, hardships, calamities, 5 beatings, imprisonments, riots, labors, sleepless nights, hunger; 6 in purity, knowledge, patience, kindness, holiness of spirit, genuine love, 7 truthful speech, and the power of God; with the weapons of righteousness for the right hand and for the left; 8 in honor and dishonor, in ill repute and good repute. We are treated as impostors and yet are true, 9 as unknown and yet are well known, as dying and look—we are alive, as punished and yet not killed, 10 as sorrowful yet always rejoicing, as poor yet making many rich, as having nothing and yet possessing everything.
2 Corinthians 5:20b-6:10 (NRSVue)
My sermon from Ash Wednesday (February 26, 20202) on 2 Corinthians 5:20b-6:10.
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When I read the Bible for myself, I read it assuming it was written seriously. That doesn’t mean that there aren’t parts of the Bible that are absurd, silly, shocking, or funny. But in my head, I imagine that when the words for the Bible were first written down, the physical act of writing happened in a reverent and serious way. The original authors who recorded or wrote these words probably didn’t know they were crafting scripture that would last thousands of years but I think they must have known they were writing something holy and important. When I read the Bible, I assume the reverence I bring to the text is something the original authors experienced too.
But my assumption is just that: an assumption. And sometimes a text comes along like tonight’s reading from 2 Corinthians that needs more than just reverence. The text needs passion and energy and a little theatrics because that’s probably how Paul composed this text nearly 2000 years ago. He was caught up in a pattern of writing letters back and forth with a Christian community he founded in the Greek city of Corinth. From what we can tell, Paul had established a shop in Corinth’s marketplace as a kind of leather worker. As people came to his shop to place orders for the different things he could make, he talked to them and eventually shared who he knew Jesus to be. Through persistence, grace, and a lot of help from the Holy Spirit, a group of maybe two dozen people started gathering together for worship and prayer. Paul stayed maybe 18 months before moving on to a new city. But his relationship to the Corinthian community continued. And it wasn’t long before the community started to split into different cliques. People argued about who had the right understanding of Jesus and they started valuing people based on the amount of spiritual gifts they had. These disagreements got so intense that people stopped worshipping together and they kept only to their friends. As these splits grew, someone finally wrote to Paul asking for his thoughts. We don’t have the letters that were written to Paul but we do have Paul’s responses – and they were eventually arranged into what we know as First and Second Corinthians. These two books were his actual responses to actual people trying to figure out what it actually means to follow Jesus Christ, together. Paul didn’t think he was writing the Bible. Instead, he was addressing people who were trying to embody the grace God had already given them.
And since this grace was embodied, we should see Paul’s words in this letter as embodied too. Because he didn’t physically put these words on paper or vellum. Instead, he probably hired a scribe to write down these words as he said them. So instead of imagining Paul, a Jewish scholar sitting in a quiet room, writing a letter in the most reverent way possible; it’s better to see Paul speaking and how he became more animated as he spoke. He was, most likely, walking around the room and gesturing wildly with his hands. And when he got to the middle of verse 2, he exploded with energy because he knew what it was like to hold onto hope even in the middle of hopeless moments. We can almost hear him speaking faster and faster as he connected so many different and competing experiences with one another. His words rolled off the tongue because he was giving voice to what his life with Jesus was all about. It wasn’t a life that was easy or simple or that focused on his being comfortable. Rather, it was a life that lived into everything it was given because it trusted in a promise: a promise that our life is not evaluated only by our health, wealth, age, gender, sexuality, race, ethnicity, social class, or any of those things we use to keep our communities apart. Rather, our value is defined by God – and God loves you.
But God doesn’t only love the best version of you or the version of you that’s always reverent all the time. God loves all of you – including the parts that are over-the-top, passionate, and full of theatrics. God loves the parts of you that you do not like; the parts that don’t work like they should; and all those things that you push off to tomorrow when they really should be taken care of today. God’s love isn’t reserved for the best version of who God wants us to be. God loves you. And it’s a love that makes a difference in the world – and in you. Because for our sake, God moved into this world. And in a verse Paul might have rushed through as he geared up for the high energy of verse 2 and beyond, Paul revealed what his experience of Jesus was all about. He knew Jesus as a gift – a gift of love because God came to us. This gift wasn’t something Paul earned after he was already the faithful person God wanted him to be. Rather, Jesus came to him as love incarnate first because that’s just what Jesus does. This love isn’t meant only for our comfort or to make us feel better about ourselves. Rather, God’s love comes with an energy, passion, and theatrics of all its own. Jesus moves us into a new reality where the love we receive becomes the love we give. And this love, like Jesus’ himself, knows no bounds.
The love God gives us is a love that is always honest about who we are. It doesn’t run away from our faults, our fears, and the ways we don’t love each other like we should. It doesn’t ignore the ways we, as a community, sometimes limit who we offer love too – holding back from those who might not act, or think, or carry themselves in the ways we think they should. This love also doesn’t ignore the ways our wider community- the neighborhoods, towns, state, and nation we call home – acts as if this love from God is, someone, limited. We have no problem saying that Jesus’ love is for us but then we act as if God’s love stops there, letting us remain as we are instead of seeing how God’s love transforms us into something more.
Which is why, I think, we celebrate events like Ash Wednesday. It’s why we will use ashes in just a few minutes to remind us exactly who we are. Yet we are also different because we are marked by the sign of the cross. We do these things, as a community, so that we can help one another realize that Jesus has inserted himself into our lives, helping us be the more generous, more inclusive, more compassionate, more merciful, and more loving people God knows we can be. The love we feel and the love we give is not only for our own personal benefit but it’s also meant to be, like Jesus, a gift given for the world. There will be times when we’ll need to be reverent, serious, and all that those words means. But there are other moments when the love we give needs to be animated and full of energy. We are not the keepers of God’s love. We are the ones called to give that love away. And so tonight, as we remember the whole truth about who we are – we will also remember the new truth that God’s love says about us. And how, through Jesus, God’s love is made visible in our reverent and not-so-reverent lives.
Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and his brother John and led them up a high mountain, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly there appeared to them Moses and Elijah, talking with him. Then Peter said to Jesus, “Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I will make three dwellings here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” While he was still speaking, suddenly a bright cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud a voice said, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” When the disciples heard this, they fell to the ground and were overcome by fear. But Jesus came and touched them, saying, “Get up and do not be afraid.” And when they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus himself alone. As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus ordered them, “Tell no one about the vision until after the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.”
Matthew 17:1-9
My sermon from Transfiguration Sunday (February 23, 2020) on Matthew 17:1-9.
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It’s hard to talk about today’s story – the Transfiguration of Jesus – without including all the verses that come before it. So that’s what I’m going to try to do now; I’m going to paraphrase what happened in Matthew before Jesus, Peter, James, and John went up the mountain. And to start off, we’re about 12 chapters further into Jesus’ story than we were last week. Jesus’ ministry around the Sea of Galilee is almost over. But before he took his final steps towards the city of Jerusalem, Jesus visited the city of Caesarea Philippi. Now Caesarea Philippi was the political, religious, and economic center of the entire area and it was built at the base of a mountain covered in religious shrines and temples. For centuries, people gathered there to worship non-Jewish gods and goddesses. Yet during Jesus’ lifetime, something new showed up and there were suddenly statues honoring and celebrating the Roman Emperors. By this point, the Roman Emperors were declaring themselves to be either gods or the sons of gods. And they claimed they had a kind of divine permission to make the entire world their own. In the city of Caesarea Philippi, the streets were filled with Roman soldiers and their allies; and the marketplaces were covered in images declaring Rome’s greatness at the expense of everyone else. Caesarea Philippi was a place that tried to convince you that it was Rome that gave your life meaning and purpose. And so Jesus brought his disciples there. And while standing in the shadow of a mountain filled with statues dedicated to the Roman Emperor, Jesus asked those who followed him: “who do you say that I am?” Peter, even though he could literally see the political, economic, and religious might of the Roman Empire in front of him – quickly said: “Jesus, you’re the Messiah; you’re true center of our world.” Jesus, in response to Peter’s confession, started sharing more of his story. He told them of his decision to head to Jerusalem and how, instead of overthrowing the Roman Empire, he would be arrested and killed. This wasn’t how Peter thought the story of the Messiah should turn out – so Peter challenged Jesus’ own words. And in a sudden shift, Jesus seemed to turn on Peter. He called Peter Satan – and said he was stumbling block for Jesus’ own ministry. Jesus then turned to all his disciples, telling them that they needed to deny themselves, take up their cross, and be ready to follow him.
And that, according to Matthew, is the last sort of detail we get about what Jesus was upto until he and his friends go up a mountain. For six days, we hear nothing about the direction Jesus walked in or if he visited any other towns. We have no idea if Jesus cured anyone during this break or if took some me-time and maybe visited a spa or saw a show. For six whole days, we have nothing in the story that can distract us from the twist and turns that came right before. And instead we can imagine the disciples replaying this conversation they had with Jesus over and over again in their head. They tried to make sense of Peter’s confession, Peter as Satan, and this cross that seemed to involve them all. They had heard Jesus confirm that he was exactly who they hoped he was. And yet his words also left them confused, worried, and full of doubts.
So after six days, Jesus took Peter, John, and James up a mountain. And as they climbed, the three disciples carried all of their stuff with them. Every doubt they had about Jesus; every question about their choices in their life; and this conversation they had repeated in their minds over and over again – all of that went up that mountain with them. Jesus didn’t invite his most perfect followers to journey with him up the mountain. Rather, he took the doubters; the ones with questions; the ones who, even after following Jesus for some time, still weren’t exactly sure what their faith and this Jesus was all about. Jesus, in other words, basically invited us to go up that mountain with him. Because we, like Peter, James, and John also doubt; and worry; and sometimes wonder if this Jesus thing matters for us as much as it should. We, like them, still find ourselves living through moments where we don’t see Jesus as clearly as we should. And in periods of our life that last much longer than six days, we’re not sure exactly what we should believe. We find times in our lives where every prayer we utter, every worship service we attend, and every piece of bread or drink we share at the Lord’s table feels – a little bit too normal – and no where near divine. God, for us, starts feeling too strange or too mundane; too over-the-top and unrealistic or maybe too down-to-earth and really small. God stops feeling like God. And we find ourselves going up the mountains of our lives not really sure why we’re going up at all.
Yet it’s then, right before the disciples got to the top of the mountain, that Jesus transfigured. His face glowed brighter than the sun and his clothes turned white. Suddenly two others appeared with him and the disciples instinctively knew that Moses, the one who received the law on another mountain top, and Elijah, the great prophet, was there with them. Peter, being Peter, interrupted this scene with his words – and so God spoke. And the disciples fell to the ground, afraid. Matthew doesn’t tell us exactly what they were afraid of – but we can fill in the details ourselves. The disciples, In the words of Joseph Harvard III, “had their eyes opened, and they saw a new reality. It was revealed to them that the way of Jesus was God’s way in the world.” Yet their eyes saw more than just Jesus. They also, I think, came to realize a truth about themselves. Jesus is. They really were disciples who doubt, who wonder, who get confused, and they realized they’re the ones who do not get Jesus right. And so they fell to the ground, covering their faces and their eyes, because they saw the truth about Jesus collide with the truth they knew about themselves.
Yet before they could uncover their eyes and see Jesus looking like his own unshiny self – Jesus first came to them. He came to those who were afraid; to the ones who doubted; to those who didn’t know what to do with this Son of God. Jesus came to them first, and with a gentle touch and world, invited them to “Get up and do not be afraid.” These words were not meant to be harsh or to be a command for the disciples to not feel what they were truly feeling. Rather, it was a word of comfort that Jesus knows we are exactly who we are – right now. Jesus knows we doubt and that we’re sometimes confused. He knows we feel fear and that our fear will sometimes block us from seeing the truth that’s around us. Jesus knows we are exactly who we are – yet he also knows whose we are too. We are already in a relationship with him. And he comes to us not because we are perfect but because his love for us is. He reaches out to us – in baptism, in communion, in our gathering together for worship, and in our prayers – and he continues to remind us that nothing can separate us from God’s steadfast love. Our doubts; our fears; our confusion; and even our lack of an unwavering faith – will not stop Jesus from coming to us. Instead, his commitment to us lets us do a hard thing and that’s follow him. We get to get up, to head down the mountain into our very ordinary lives, and to trust that Jesus is with us even when we are afraid. We follow because we choose that love, not fear, will be at the center of our lives. And Jesus, in our journey on mountains and through valleys, promises he will never let us go.