Sarcastic Savior: a sermon on playing God’s game.

Then Jesus said to the disciples, “There was a rich man who had a manager, and charges were brought to him that this man was squandering his property. So he summoned him and said to him, ‘What is this that I hear about you? Give me an accounting of your management, because you cannot be my manager any longer.’ Then the manager said to himself, ‘What will I do, now that my master is taking the position away from me? I am not strong enough to dig, and I am ashamed to beg. I have decided what to do so that, when I am dismissed as manager, people may welcome me into their homes.’ So, summoning his master’s debtors one by one, he asked the first, ‘How much do you owe my master?’ He answered, ‘A hundred jugs of olive oil.’ He said to him, ‘Take your bill, sit down quickly, and make it fifty.’ Then he asked another, ‘And how much do you owe?’ He replied, ‘A hundred containers of wheat.’ He said to him, ‘Take your bill and make it eighty.’ And his master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly; for the children of this age are more shrewd in dealing with their own generation than are the children of light. And I tell you, make friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth so that when it is gone, they may welcome you into the eternal homes. “Whoever is faithful in a very little is faithful also in much; and whoever is dishonest in a very little is dishonest also in much. If then you have not been faithful with the dishonest wealth, who will entrust to you the true riches? And if you have not been faithful with what belongs to another, who will give you what is your own? No slave can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth.”

Luke 16:1-13

My sermon from the 18th Sunday After Pentecost (September 18, 2016) on Luke 16:1-13.

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A reflection on Ezekiel: God the Shepherd

The First Reading is Ezekiel 34:11-16..

Today’s first reading comes after the prophet Ezekiel condemns the false shepherds (i.e. leaders) of Judah. God’s word labels the kings and queens of Jerusalem as false because they do not do what a shepherd does. A shepherd takes care of the sheep but Ezekiel’s contemporaries do not. The leaders take for themselves, giving their sheep nothing. They feed themselves but not those who need it. They do not strengthen the weak, take care of the injured, heal the sick, or bring back those who have strayed. Instead, with force and fear, they rule over others. The sheep (i.e. the people) become “food for all the wild animals.” The people are scattered and alone. No one sees them, except for God.

God promises the people around Ezekiel that God is their shepherd. God will do what the leaders did not do. God will heal the sick, feed everyone, seek out those far away, and bring everyone home. God will reconcile God’s people to God’s promises. God invites the people to experience a promise others will make but only God can fulfill it.

But If we remember where Ezekiel is when this word from God comes to him, we see God making an extraordinary claim. Ezekiel is in Babylon, preaching and teaching among the exiles. Everyone is far from home. God’s House, and their city are gone, are gone. In a culture where wars were more than just nation against nation but gods vs gods, the destruction of Jerusalem appears to show God being defeated. Babylon’s gods won so how can God claim to be Israel’s shepherd?

This question is at the heart of the experience of the Exiles. They expected a certain amount of material success since they were God’s people. But with Jerusalem destroyed, that expectation is gone. Faith, without material support (i.e. wealth, prestige, fame, etc) can feel like we’re doing faith wrong.

But it’s telling that God, in this passage, doesn’t promise wealth. God doesn’t say that God’s people will end up as rock stars or high priced CEO’s. God promises relationship. Faith isn’t about things; faith is about being connected to the source of everything. God makes a promise to people feeling isolated and alone that God sees them, loves them, and will not give up on them. God’s people have God’s presence and no one, not even the gods and military might of Babylon, can take that away from them.

Each week, I write a reflection on one of our scripture readings for the week. This is from Christ Lutheran Church’s Worship Bulletin for 9/11/2016.

& Found: a sermon on being lost and living found.

Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to him. And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, “This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.” So he told them this parable: “Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until he finds it? When he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders and rejoices. And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and neighbors, saying to them, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.’ Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance. “Or what woman having ten silver coins, if she loses one of them, does not light a lamp, sweep the house, and search carefully until she finds it? When she has found it, she calls together her friends and neighbors, saying, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found the coin that I had lost.’ Just so, I tell you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents.”

Luke 15:1-10

My sermon from the 17th Sunday After Pentecost (September 11, 2016) on Luke 15:1-10.

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A sermon in memory of Linda

When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain; and after he sat down, his disciples came to him. Then he began to speak, and taught them, saying:

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
“Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.
“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.
“Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.
“Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.
“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.
“Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
“Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.

Matthew 5:1-12

My sermon in memory of Linda (September 10, 2016) on Matthew 5:1-12.

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A Reflection on Ezekiel meeting God

The First Reading is Ezekiel 1:1, 4-9,13-15,18-21,22,26-28. .

When you first met God, did you have a vision like Ezekiel? I’ll admit that I did not. Instead of seeing winged creatures, a giant throne, and an image of the divine full of fire, my experience of Jesus was quieter. When I reflect on my faith journey, I first noticed Jesus in the love of my extended family, through the testimony of friends and strangers, and in the beauty of art, music, and laughter. I met Jesus through the everyday occurrences of the ordinary. The prophet Ezekiel, however, has a different experience.

Ezekiel, like the book of Revelation, is a book filled with images because the prophet speaks through pictures. His prophetic activity probably started around 593 BCE (BC), prior to the fall of Jerusalem. Like Jeremiah, he talked about the coming destruction of the Temple and the Exile. Unlike Jeremiah, however, Ezekiel survives and continues to preach through the early part of the Exile. The population of Jerusalem is in Babylon yet God’s words still come to them.

Ezekiel begins with an image of God. The description of winged creatures and a chariot bring to mind the Holy of Holies, the place in the Temple where the Ark of the Covenant was kept. God is not confined to any one place but is completely other-worldly. God cannot be tamed and is, instead, “holy beyond our understanding and control” (Lutheran Study Bible, 2009). When God appears to Ezekiel, Ezekiel can only see a glimpse of God’s outline and glory. The flames, winds, and fantastic creatures are a reminder that we are not as powerful as we think we are. God can go anywhere and moves seamlessly in any direction. God isn’t trapped in a linear experience of time. God isn’t limited to human expectations or controls. Instead, Ezekiel reminds us that God is God and we are not.

Each week, I write a reflection on one of our scripture readings for the week. This is from Christ Lutheran Church’s Worship Bulletin for 9/04/2016.

From Pastor Marc – My Message for the Messenger, September 2016 Edition

As I write this, our Genesis Garden team is trying to catch a groundhog. In the garden, by the shed, is a humane trap, with apples and broccoli for bait. Each morning, the trap is checked and the food replenished. The team is committed to capturing this groundhog who dug into our garden from the other side of the building. But this groundhog is proving elusive. It must have learned something by watching the other 3 we caught this season. 

Our Genesis Garden and our volunteers do amazing work. They use the gifts we are given (our land and time) to provide fresh vegetables to the Center for Food Action in Englewood. Too many people in Northern New Jersey struggle with food insecurity so we use what we have to make a difference in the lives of people we might never meet. This is Godly work – work that even those of us without green thumbs (i.e. me) can participate in. Planting, weeding, watering, and picking; together, we can do so much to love the world. 

But sometimes our plans and expectations run into reality. We can lock up our gardens, mend our fences, build our walls tight, but a groundhog will still find a way in. It’s frustrating and disappointing to see our best intentions fall short even when we did nothing wrong. We might feel, after 3 groundhogs, to just give up. But we don’t because Christ doesn’t give up on us. 

We’re starting up a new programming year. Our choirs, Sunday School, education programs, and more are all restarting. Our lives are going to get busy with sports, schools, holidays, jobs, and family events. We’re going to run into the groundhogs of our lives or be someone’s groundhog too. But we don’t stop turning to God, listening to the Spirit, and holding close to Jesus. In Christ, groundhogs are not the final word for our lives; love is. So let’s keep loving, feeding, and caring for ourselves and the world, no matter how many groundhogs come. 

See you in church!
Pastor Marc

A Reflection on Lamentations

Our First Reading is Lamentations 1:1-5.

What does mourning sound like? That’s not an easy question to answer. Each time a person experiences loss, we respond to that loss in a unique way. Some of us shed tears while others focus on their jobs or hobbies. Some of us spend much of our days in sadness while others will be surprised when moments of sadness show up suddenly an unexpectedly. We each mourn in our own way and that’s okay. The book of Lamentations is a book of mourning centered on the fall of Jerusalem.

This book is a collection of 5 poems, each 22 lines long. The writer (traditionally identified as Jeremiah) believes that God used the Babylonians to destroy Jerusalem. The writers knows that God can work “good and bad.” But the writer is surprised at one aspect of God: God’s silence. When God’s Temple, God’s Home, was under siege, why was God silent? The writer of Lamentations cries out for the pain to stop and for their suffering to end. The poem ends without an answer on whether God will do that or not.

“To us, lament often sounds like despair, the opposite of faith” (Lutheran Study Bible, 2009) but cries are not the opposite of faith. Crying out to God is a prayer. The very act itself trusts that we will be heard. And we will be heard because it is in the places where we would least expect God (in suffering, pain, catastrophe, and in the cross) where God is clearly present. “Lamentations shows us that in the most difficult of times and places, God is present and hears our desperate cries for help.”

Each week, I write a reflection on one of our scripture readings for the week. This is from Christ Lutheran Church’s Worship Bulletin for 8/28/2016.

Let’s Hear It For Love: a sermon on Jesus, love, and being vulnerable.

On one occasion when Jesus was going to the house of a leader of the Pharisees to eat a meal on the sabbath, they were watching him closely.

When he noticed how the guests chose the places of honor, he told them a parable. “When you are invited by someone to a wedding banquet, do not sit down at the place of honor, in case someone more distinguished than you has been invited by your host; and the host who invited both of you may come and say to you, ‘Give this person your place,’ and then in disgrace you would start to take the lowest place. But when you are invited, go and sit down at the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he may say to you, ‘Friend, move up higher’; then you will be honored in the presence of all who sit at the table with you. For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.” He said also to the one who had invited him, “When you give a luncheon or a dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbors, in case they may invite you in return, and you would be repaid. But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind. And you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you, for you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.”

Luke 14:1,7-14

My sermon from the 12th Sunday After Pentecost (August 28, 2016) on Luke 14:1,7-14.

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So when we’re in our cars, who picks the music that we hear? The rule, in my household, is that whoever’s driving picks the music we’re listening too. It’s a system that usually works but I’ll admit that, when I pick the music, my habits can annoy the other passengers in the car. I’m not the type of person who just hits play and let the music flow. I’m the type of person who skips around. Even when I put on my playlist labeled “all-time favorites,” I can’t just hit “play.” I have to search for the music that is speaking to me today – and that sometimes means listening to the first 3 seconds of 20 songs before I find the one I want to hear. And one song I keep wanting to hear lately is from the an older pop-punk band called the Smoking Popes. They’re from Chicago, they still tour, and they mix the power and energy of punk music with the crooning vocal style of a Tony Bennett or Frank Sinatra. And the song I keep searching for is from 1993 and is called “Let’s Hear It For Love.” That’s an uplifting title for a song. That’s that a title that seems to celebrate the bliss and passion and positive experiences love can bring. But, once the vocalist starts singing, we hear a song centered on the other side of love. It begins with the lines “Let’s hear it for heartache. Let’s hear it for pain.” And after we hear the chorus a couple of times, the main there for the entire song comes through: “Let’s hear it for letting someone totally ruin your life. Let’s hear it for love.” That’s a bit depressing. But I value this song because it points to something that is necessary for love: it points to vulnerability. It’s impossible to truly love unless we risk that this relationship might leave us with a broken heart. 

And that, I think, is at the center of Jesus’ words today. Jesus is at a dinner party. He walks through the front door and everyone, immediately looks at him. Now when I walk into a room and everyone stares at me, that makes me feel pretty uncomfortable. But not Jesus. He, instead, stares right back. He watches as people where they are going to sit. He notices that some are picking seats next to their friends so they would have some to talk too. Others don’t really care where they sit as long as they don’t sit next to that one person they can’t really stand. And some are picking, what I would call, the “cool kids” spots and others are elsewhere, sitting at the 1st century version of the kids table. The people at this dinner party might not know everyone’s name but they know where everyone is supposed to sit. It’s basically like…high school…with a social dynamic that still matters in our lives even if high school happened to us years ago. This dinner party is more than just a few friends hanging out. It’s a place where people network, where they talk, and where the cool kids know everyone will be sucking up to them for some kind of favor or influence. And those uncool kids, well, they know they’re going to be asked to do something to prove why they should be there. This party is a social engagement where everyone is trying to figure out just what they can get from each other. 

And then there’s Jesus… who doesn’t seem to follow the rules. He leans over to his friend,  to the one who invited him, and tells him a very un-high school thing to do: When hosting a dinner party, don’t just invite your friends. Don’t invite someone special. Don’t invite anyone who could ever invite you to a dinner party of their own. Instead, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind. Invite those who might never have a room to host a party in or extra food to share. Invite those who no one expects to be there – those who can never give you anything – because that’s what the kingdom of God looks like. 

The more I sat with this text…the more the word “invite” got to me. I’m sure I’m not the only one who has invited people to events knowing, or secretly praying, that they wouldn’t come. The word ‘invite’ can, in some ways, get us off the hook because the people we ‘invite’ can always say no. But Jesus isn’t saying just invite the poor – he’s saying they’ll come. They’ll be there. And when they come, don’t expect they’ll know all the rules we know. They might not know where to sit, they might not know which fork to use, and they might talk about things they’re not supposed to. They might share stories or experiences that don’t match our own or challenge everything we believe. And if they are differently abled or injured or incapacitated in some way, they might not eat the foods we want to serve. They might not even be able to chew at all. But we promised them a dinner party – so that’s what we do. A dinner party for those who can’t give us anything is a dinner party for the vulnerable. And the only way we can throw that kind of party is if we become vulnerable too. 

God’s kingdom isn’t a kingdom centered on what we can get. It’s center on what we can give. When we sit at the table with someone who is different from us, we’re invited to have a relationship with them. We’re called to get to know them, to understand their fears, their struggles, their joys, and what makes them who they are. And that knowing only works if we take a risk and let this other person, this vulnerable person, make us vulnerable too. At this kind of table, there is nothing that we can get. There is nothing this other person can give us that will improve our social capital, our standing among our peers, or make us look good in the eyes of our friends. At this table, our expectations aren’t enough to set the rules because we’re sitting with the unexpected. For that relationship to fully matter, we have to take the risk of being vulnerable. 

And that’s God’s table. God’s table is a table of vulnerability. It’s a table where risk happens and where love…well…where love doesn’t run away from heartache. It’s a table where love doesn’t hide when it’s confronted by pain and where love doesn’t stop when someone ruins our life. Love, at God’s table, just keeps loving because that’s who God is. God is love which means God takes risks. God doesn’t run away from vulnerability. God sits, at that same table, risking pain, risking heartache, risking ruin. And we know this because when Jesus invited his friends around that one table for his last supper, he didn’t only invite the good, the solid, and the most faithful ones. He ate with the one who would betray him. He shared bread with the ones who would abandon him. And he had a drink with the ones who would doubt Mary when she told them what she saw. God’s table isn’t for the strong; it’s for the vulnerable. God’s dinner party isn’t for the perfect; it’s for all. We are not here to limit the possibilities of God’s kingdom but to see how God’s kingdom show us all of what’s possible with God. So let’s take a risk. Let’s be vulnerable. And in everything we do, everything we say, and in everything we share – let’s do that one hard thing – and that’s love. 

Amen.  

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Keep Saying: a sermon on Jesus, the Sabbath, and what matters.

Now[Jesus] was teaching in one of the synagogues on the sabbath. And just then there appeared a woman with a spirit that had crippled her for eighteen years. She was bent over and was quite unable to stand up straight. When Jesus saw her, he called her over and said, “Woman, you are set free from your ailment.” When he laid his hands on her, immediately she stood up straight and began praising God. But the leader of the synagogue, indignant because Jesus had cured on the sabbath, kept saying to the crowd, “There are six days on which work ought to be done; come on those days and be cured, and not on the sabbath day.” But the Lord answered him and said, “You hypocrites! Does not each of you on the sabbath untie his ox or his donkey from the manger, and lead it away to give it water? And ought not this woman, a daughter of Abraham whom Satan bound for eighteen long years, be set free from this bondage on the sabbath day?” When he said this, all his opponents were put to shame; and the entire crowd was rejoicing at all the wonderful things that he was doing.

Luke 13:10-17

My sermon from the 11th Sunday After Pentecost (August 21, 2016) on Luke 13:10-17.

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One of my favorite clothing trends is fun socks. It wasn’t that long ago when my sock options were limited to white athletic socks or black dress socks. It didn’t matter what kind of shoe I was wearing – my sock options were plain and boring. But that’s all changed. I’ve got argyle socks, red socks, blue socks, socks with foxes on them, chihuahuas riding surfboards, and even my Lutheran socks which have “Here I stand” written on the side. So today, in honor of Sunday, our sabbath day, I’m wearing my Sunday Socks. Sunday Socks is literally what it says on the ankle – and right below those words is an image of a tv set with the words “Football!” inside. For a fan like myself, they’re basically perfect with footballs, referees, and athletic stripes are all over them. My only critique is that, sadly, they don’t come in the orange and blue of my beloved Denver Broncos. But that’s okay because they’re still fun, they’re still cool, and they still make me smile because, along with the footballs, the tv sets, and the stripes is a simple phrase, written on the side that claims, when it comes to Sunday, “nothing else matters.” 

Now, that’s a pretty bold claim for a pair of socks to make. I tend to chose my socks based on the bold statement they make about me rather than the bold statement written on them. But there’s an irony here that makes me laugh because these socks point to a question: what makes a holy day a holy day? And that question is at the center of our story about Jesus today. 

Our story starts with Jesus making a pit stop during his long journey from Galilee to Jerusalem. As he passes through many different villages and town, he gravitates towards the centers of faith at the heart of each community. So, it’s not surprising to find him in a synagogue on the sabbath. As a Jewish teacher, that’s where he should be. In my mind, I imagine this synagogue to be one giant room, filled with disciples and the locals competing for places to sit and stand so they can listen to what Jesus has to say. And it’s in the middle of this very full space, that Jesus sees her. Now, this woman is a bit of a mystery to us. We don’t know her name, why she came to see Jesus, or even where she’s from. But there’s a sense in the text that this woman was someone this community knew. She’s one of the locals. For 18 years, she’s been unable to stand straight. For 18 years, she’s been bent over. In a crowd full of people standing to see Jesus, I wonder if she could see him. But before she can ask for healing, before she can reach out to touch his robe, before she can do all the others things we hear in the other healing stories – Jesus sees her. He makes a promise. And then, after placing his hands on her, her back straightens out. This woman who couldn’t stand straight, who couldn’t see over the crowd, is now standing like she’s one of the crowd – like she really is a part of this community – a community she’s always been a part of. 

And that’s when the grumbling starts. Someone isn’t happy with what just happened. The text points to Jesus’ cure being the issue but the words that come out shifts the blame elsewhere. The leader doesn’t turn to Jesus to object to what happened but, instead, he turns to the crowd. He looks at those who might need healing and asks them to just…wait one more day. They’ve already been suffering for months or years – what could be one more day? This religious teacher has an expectation, an understanding, of what the sabbath is. This day, set apart by God, is a day for complete rest. God created the world in six days and rested on the seventh – so that’s what we’re called to do too. No food shall be cooked or fire set to warm the house on the sabbath day. The sabbath is a day of no work – and he just saw Jesus work. And since Jesus took the initiative to see this woman who needs healing, the leader tries to convince the crowd to stay away – to stay back – so Jesus won’t feel obligated to cure someone else. 

And Jesus won’t have that because the sabbath isn’t a day centered for rest. It isn’t a day defined by the absence of work. The sabbath isn’t that one day of the week when we get to not set our alarm, sleep in, and wear our pjs until noon. The sabbath is about giving life so that Monday, and Tuesday, and all the other days of the week are life giving not just for ourselves, but for the people right there, in front of us, suffering, hurting, and needing healing. The sabbath is for giving life to everyone in the community. The woman in our story didn’t become part of the community after she was healed. She had been part of the community since the day she was born. She’s a daughter of Abraham before she’s healed and she’s a daughter of Abraham after. Her identity was never limited by her ailment and her identification with the community should never have been limited either. Jesus shouldn’t have had to see her first. The community should have brought her forward, not because they wanted to change her but just because they loved her – Just because they wanted her to, in all things and through all things, have all she needs for life. 

And that’s the sabbath. Sabbath is more than just a day during our two day weekend. It’s a day originally set apart in a world where no one had rest. Farmers had to work or starve. Servants and slaves had to do whatever they were told. God didn’t just tell the rich or the middle class or the poor to have the day off – everyone, men, women, children, servants, slaves, and even the animals took that day off. People worked, voluntarily or involuntarily, because they couldn’t imagine any other way of existence. But being grounded down, week after week, month after month, year after year, isn’t living. And without a sabbath, without an interruption to our pattern of existence, we can’t do what Jesus did. We can’t stop, look into the crowd, and notice the one who isn’t being seen. We can’t ask the questions about what life should look like not just for us but for the people around us. Without a sabbath, there’s no way to take a breath and ask how we can give life to those around us. The sabbath, is a break in our pattern of living. The sabbath is God’s gift to recharge us, refocus us, refresh us so that we can face each day of the week as alive as we possibly can. And without a sabbath, we let others, even a pair of fun socks, make bold claims about what should define us and give us our meaning. To live in the sabbath is to do more than just rest. It’s an opportunity to reconnect, to reassert that we are more than just our job, more than just our abilities, more than just what our communities around us say we are. We are sons, we are daughters of a living God who wants us to have life and to give nothing less.

Amen.

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