Not the Rapture

I’m a big fan of First Thessalonians. Most scholars see this letter as the first piece of Christian writing that we have. Written around 50 CE, the letter tells us that Paul founded a community of believers in the capital of the Roman province ofMacedonia, Thessalonike. Paul was there only maybe a few month but he gathered together a group of Gentile (non-Jewish) believers in Jesus. When he left, probably heading to Corinth, the small community was flourishing and faithful. While in Corinth, a member of the community at Thessalonike named Timothy visited Paul, telling him all about what was happening back home. Timothy brought Paul words of thankfulness and love but the community had a problem. They were looking for an answer to a big question. Members of their community had died and the Thessalonians didn’t know how to handle it. They were concerned that their dead brothers and sisters had somehow missed out on salvation because they died before Jesus had come back. Was heaven and God’s love no longer available to them now that they were dead? Would Jesus pass them over or not see them when he returns? The community in Thessalonike not only were mourning for the loss of their friends, they were also fearful of their friends’ future.

Paul hears what Timothy says and writes a letter in response. His words are gentle, kind, loving, and, above all, are encouraging. Paul tells the Thessalonians that those who have died are not lost. They have not missed out on the promise of Jesus. They have not, somehow, lost access to God. No, the ones who have died are fully caught up in Jesus’ loving arms and Jesus is not letting go.

This text from First Thessalonians (1 Thessalonians 4:13-18) has been used to justify the “rapture,” a vision of the end of the world where “good Christians” somehow escape the world before Jesus returns. But Paul isn’t talking about escape in his letter. Escaping never enters his mind. Instead, Paul is talking about living (and dying) in the world right now. He’s telling his beloved community that grieving is okay, that the darkness that can come from sudden losses is part of our life, but that we are, first and foremost, a community rooted in a hope and love that even death cannot break. What matters in this text is not our being “caught up in the clouds” but, rather, that Jesus “will descend from heaven,” into our lives, worship, and communion, in a million different ways. Not even death can keep us away from God’s love. Jesus is running into the world and not away from it – and that truly is good news!

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 2nd Sunday After Pentecost, 11/09/2014.

From Pastor Marc – My Message for the Messenger, November 2014 Edition

Generous Thankfulness

As a new face here at Christ, every day is a day full of discovery. In each conversation I learn more about the people that make Christ Lutheran Church the warm and inviting place that it is. I hear stories how personal invitations from family and friends grew our community. Baptisms, marriages, Sunday School, Confirmations and funerals have been avenues of love to those who didn’t have a community to call their own. I hear in Christ Lutheran’s story a story of invitation, hospitality and welcome that does the very rare thing of inviting new people to help us change to more fully live as the body of Christ in the world. There is a generosity here at Christ Lutheran that is boundless, reflecting the boundless grace that God gives us every day.

November is a time when the leaves finish falling from the trees, giant piles of turkey, stuffing and cranberry sauce from a can are shared, the days are cooler, and when we start to notice the days getting way too short. But as the darkness grows we’re invited to reflect on what God goes. We are a people who proclaim every Sunday that darkness does not win. The light will return. God’s generosity to us is bounded not by our wants but by God’s love which covers us every day. In thankfulness, November is a time to take risks with our own generosity. I invite you to help the Care committee provide food so everyone can share in the Thanksgiving dinner they deserve. I invite you to make a financial pledge to Christ Lutheran, helping us expand our generosity to children, youth, adults, elders and our neighbors whom we haven’t met yet. I invite you to help clean up after our Advent dinner, invite a friend to our movie showcase on November 11, read your bible and take a few minutes out of each day to pray. Even if the only time you have is waiting at a traffic light, I invite you to take a moment and say “Hi” to God. You might just discover how God is inviting you to live generously today.

Pastor Marc

The After Party

Then Jesus said to the Jews who had believed in him, “If you continue in my word, you are truly my disciples; and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free.” They answered him, “We are descendants of Abraham and have never been slaves to anyone. What do you mean by saying, ‘You will be made free’?” Jesus answered them, “Very truly, I tell you, everyone who commits sin is a slave to sin. The slave does not have a permanent place in the household; the son has a place there forever. So if the Son makes you free, you will be free indeed.

John 8:31-36/blockquote>

My sermon from Reformation Sunday. (October 26, 2014) on John 8:31-36.

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BAPTIZE ALL THE BABIES

Today I presided over my first baptism as a pastor. There are pictures to prove it.

For future reference, I need to practice pouring water while using a seashell. Poor kid ended up with water in his eyes.

Pastor Marc presiding

Pastor Marc, Baptism

Why Reformation Sunday?

Why Reformation Sunday?

Many Lutheran churches across the world are celebrating the “birth” of the Reformation. Martin Luther, a monk living in Germany and teaching at the local university, was disturbed by practices in the local church. He saw the church being a hindrance to God’s love and mercy rather than dispensing that love and mercy to those who needed it most. His experiences didn’t match fully with what he saw, what he learned, and what he taught. This struggle led him to reach out to his local university community. He wanted to talk about his experiences and thoughts with his local professors. Using the practices of his day, Luther wrote 95 statements (called theses) and posted them to the public bulletin board of his day: the front doors of his local university church. Luther was using the Facebook, Twitter, and social media tools of his day. What he expected was a few professors to respond back. What he didn’t expect was the firestorm that followed. This firestorm gave birth to the Lutheran church – an understanding of Christianity that leads to all of us gathered at Christ Lutheran Church today.

Now, 497 years later, many are wondering why we still celebrate this day. We don’t live in Germany, we aren’t monks from the 15th century, and the questions Luther faced are not necessarily the questions we face today. Luther was a person of his era, a prolific writer who wrote beautifully, faithfully, spiritually. He was a man of God. He also said many things that I wish he didn’t, including anti-Jewish tracts that we condemn fully and loudly. So how can this man who lived in a very different time help us today? How can his experience of God help our journey of faith as people with cars, smartphones, Twitter, Hondas, and reality TV?

And that question is why Reformation Day still matters. Luther’s legacy is more than just a set of unchanging thoughts about God, faith, and Jesus that we just happen to share. His true legacy rests in his willingness to continue a long tradition of engaging faith with experience, of keeping Jesus central rather than distant, and always seeing the Cross as an entrance to God rather than as an escape from God. Lutheran Christianity is a questioning Christianity. We are a people who proudly struggle with Jesus’ question to the disciple: “Who do you say that I am?” That question is our question. That question is a question we’ll always struggle with and we’ll never fully express all that our answer means. But that’s okay. We’re Lutheran Christians which means we aren’t finished yet. We are always being changed. We are always being reformed. So just how is God you, me, and all of us to be reformed?

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 10/26/2014.

Sharing Communion: My First Time

On October 5 I presided over an entire Holy Communion worship service for the first time. I spoke the words of institution during a service for the first time. I actually held the entire liturgy for a full Holy Communion service for the first time. And while I stood behind that altar, about to raise the bread and say those words, I realized something:

This is something that I never truly practiced for.

To be clear, I did take liturgy in seminary. I learned from some amazing pastors and priests the art of holding worship. I’ve watched preachers for years say these words. I’ve stood behind the altar or before it, spoken the words, did the hand motions, and acted like I was in the midst of a sacred moment. I’ve wrestled with these words, written essays on these words, and served as an assistant or participant in worship hundreds of times. But even with all of that, I don’t think I was truly prepared for that Sunday where I stood before a congregation, said the words, held the bread, and played a bit part in serving the body for the Body.

Marc A. Stutzel Presiding Marc A. Stutzel Presiding

My memory of this moment is multi-layered. I stood there, not sure what to grab or what to point to. I spent my time in seminary focusing on the common cup. The congregation I serve uses those individual communion cups. The host was a solid piece of bread rather than just a big wafer or slice of pita. The tradition of the the prayer before the words of institution isn’t done at this church.

The moment felt very fast.

The words were spoken, the elements placed on the altar, and I was breaking it up, trying to figure out how to distribute the bread and also reminding myself to not forget to commune the assistants (like I did during my call Sunday). The moment was quick – but… it was sacredly quick. I knew the words I was saying. I knew their importance. I knew the logistics to put those words into action. And there was a certain weight to the words as I said them.

But this weight wasn’t what I expected. The words did not stick nor did they just sit there with some kind of sacred inertia that made them just hang like some sacred relic to be looked at from a distance. No, when the words came out, there was a movement away from the altar and straight to the people who were about to be nourished. There was an outward movement that I felt, experienced, and was excited by. The Lutheran understanding of the Eucharist focuses on the words “for you.” I didn’t expect my experience of saying the words to embody that focus. I thought that I might experience some sacred awe. Instead, I experienced some sacred serving. I’m truly thankful for that.

So this happened: Letter of Call Edition

Letter of Call, 2014

So this has been an eventful month. On September 28, I was called as Pastor of Christ Lutheran Church in Woodcliff Lake, NJ. I started on 10/1. Above is the letter of call. One of my goals through this transition is to be more diligent when it comes to blogging.

I have yet to meet that goal. Hopefully this blog post will be a start to something grand (and a rebranding as well).

One Coin

Then the Pharisees went and plotted to entrap him in what he said. So they sent their disciples to him, along with the Herodians, saying, “Teacher, we know that you are sincere, and teach the way of God in accordance with truth, and show deference to no one; for you do not regard people with partiality. Tell us, then, what you think. Is it lawful to pay taxes to the emperor, or not?” But Jesus, aware of their malice, said, “Why are you putting me to the test, you hypocrites? Show me the coin used for the tax.” And they brought him a denarius. Then he said to them, “Whose head is this, and whose title?” They answered, “The emperor’s.” Then he said to them, “Give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s, and to God the things that are God’s.” When they heard this, they were amazed; and they left him and went away.

Matthew 22:15-22

My sermon from 19th Sunday after Pentecost (October 19, 2014) on Matthew 22:15-22.

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