This sermon was originally preached on Monday, February 14, 2022, virtually, for Wartburg Theological Seminary's Chapel Service. Who says the Bible isn’t interesting? This scene we just heard is not so removed from our imaginations. Picture it, it’s Thanksgiving of 2016. You’re surrounded by family members from all political persuasions, maybe the wine has been poured, you’re holding your breathe because your uncle who doesn’t filter himself very well has had that look in his eye all day while wearing a pretty politically charged t-shirt at the dinner table. Then it happens, just one simple comment from your uncle and your cousin who’s eye has been twitching all day goes off. Your aunt tries to calm them down and they fire back with, “AND ANOTHER THING” and then go off into another diatribe. It’s not hard to imagine…at least it’s not for me. In this scenario, I’m usually the cousin.
This is not the bright and shiny and polished Jesus we are so used to. The Jesus who was teaching his disciples the Lord’s Prayer at the beginning of this chapter seems a long way away from this angry, prolific Jesus we see dining with Pharisees and Lawyers. Maybe Jesus was hangry – that awful moment when hunger turns into anger – or maybe he felt like he had to eat with these people and didn’t really want to. Maybe he knew it would be a teachable moment. I don’t know what made Jesus accept this invitation, but he did. I’m sure that the particular Pharisee that invited Jesus to dinner expected him to be a quiet, thankful, gracious guest. Boy, was he wrong. In his commentary on Luke, Justo Gonzalez says that “when the Pharisee invites [Jesus] to dine, he is unwittingly inviting [Jesus] to take over his dinner. Jesus cannot be one more name on our list of guests. When we invite him into our lives, we are inviting him to come not as a guest but as host and Lord.” Jesus is not just another guest at our table. At the Pharisees table. And I can’t help but wonder when I read these strong, sometimes harsh words of Jesus what a modern take on these ‘woes’ might be. Woe to you church leader, who worries more about the number of people in your pews and neglect those who sit in the gutters outside. Woe to you “Christian,” who would rather send a donation than participate in the necessary action a cause needs. Woe to you, who responds to the call “Black Lives Matter” with the rebuttal, “but what about…” If Jesus were at my dinner table, I think I would almost expect this type of loving chastiment. I know that there is more work to be done and that there is more I can be doing. I would expect to hear that from Jesus. Because Jesus calls us to do more. Jesus calls us to do justice, love kindness, and share the Good News of God’s unending love…Jesus calls us to action in God’s name. So often we hear about how Jesus spent time with people of all walks of life; he ate with sinners and tax collectorts and lawyers alike. And that is true. Jesus did that. But I think what often goes ignored is that Jesus didn’t miss an opportunity to speak truth to power. These woes that he rattled off to the Pharisees and lawyers were a type of lament, he saw the things that they were doing and he called them out on it. He spoke truth to those in power. Leaders have power, to use or abuse. We hear from Jesus a pretty stark reality of how power can effect people, “for you love to have the seat of honor…and be greeted with respect in the marketplace.” He also talks about how those in power easily neglect others. It seems to me that while these words are pretty blatent they are also a charge for those who are going into any type of leadership position, but especially for those entering ministry. We are leaders of this church, beloveds, we are called to lead and to lead means to be in front not only preaching with words, but preaching with our actions. We are called to speak up and speak out when those around us are hurting, when we see God’s beloved being killed in their beds or on the streets, or being rounded up at the manmade border, when we know that God’s kindom is not being realized here on earth due to the -isms that ensnare us. To tithe mint, which grows so abundantly, while withholding justice? That is easy work. That is the type of work you can do as an afterthought, or while scrolling on your phone as you sit on the couch. The work that Jesus is talking about in this reading and calling us to in our life of public ministry is not that easy. It is hard work. But it is holy work. It is the work that we are equipt for through our faith in God through Christ with the power of the Holy Spirit. Jesus may not be the best dinner guest; but he certainly wouldn’t be a boring one. With Christ as our Lord and host we know what we are called to. We know that God is with us when things get hard and the truth needs telling.
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This sermon was originally preached on Sunday, January 23, 2022 at King of Kings Lutheran Church in Fairfax, VA It was in a crowded interactive center in Houston, Texas at the 2018 National Youth Gathering, I met up with my friend from undergrad, Beka. We hadn’t seen each other in a few years but had kept up with each other on social media. I knew that Beka had been accepted to and was going to be starting seminary that fall, but I just assumed it was to become a Pastor or perhaps for some type of certificate…Honestly, I didn’t really know what she was doing.
We were chatting, browsing the items at the Old Lutheran pop-up store, and I asked about seminary. “Yeah, I’m going to become a Deacon!” Beka told me excitedly. As a born and raised Lutheran, I had never heard of Deacons within our denomination. “Beka, Lutheran’s don’t have Deacons!” I answered, rather ignorantly. “Um…yes they do.” That was all it took, Beka planted a seed. For the rest of the week, I couldn’t get this idea out of my mind, and that’s usually a sign for me that I need to do more research. So I did, we got home from Houston and I began researching. I found that within the ELCA, Deacons are Ministers of Word and Service, rather than Word and Sacrament. Service…At that point, I had already been looking into switching careers. I had been looking at Social Work, Non-profits, counseling…things that were service related. And all of a sudden everything clicked for me. This love of God and call to service I had, had a place…had a name…and here I am, 3 and a half years later with one semester to go until I graduate with a Masters in Diaconal Ministry from Wartburg Theological Seminary. I am well on my way to becoming an ordained Deacon in the Lutheran Church. But what does that mean and what does that have to do with today’s Gospel reading? We are continuing to work our way through this season of Epiphany; we have heard about Jesus’ baptism by John the Baptist and his first miracle, turning water into wine. We now find ourselves back in the Gospel of Luke, where Jesus had just been in the wilderness for forty days facing various temptations. Today’s reading tells us that Jesus is back in Galilee, and more specifically in Nazareth, his hometown. He was filled with the power of the Holy Spirit and his ministry had well and true started. It is a bit unclear if the synagogue Jesus enters is the one he grew up in, but we do know that even if this physical place isn’t familiar to Jesus, the people are. He is surrounded by the ones who knew him growing up and he is there to teach and lead them. The words that Jesus reads from Isaiah feel like a call to Diaconal Ministry. But what is Diaconal Ministry if not to use the words of Jesus to help others? Deacons are called to speak God’s word to the world and in doing do so also speak the needs of the world to the church. Let me repeat that: Deacons are called to speak God’s word to the world and in doing do so also speak the needs of the world to the church. “God has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. God has sent me to proclaim release of the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” There are ELCA Deacons working just down the road at the Lamb Center; Deacons Deb and Dave work every day to bring the good news to those in our community experiencing homelessness. They help those who are oppressed by systems that render them unable to find housing by nourishing them mind, body, and spirit, while also working to find job and housing placements. Another Deacon in our area, Deacon Kenny, works with youth at Lord of Life where his focus on faith formation is based in mission; he is bringing the realities of the world to his students one service trip at a time. It is the work of Deacons to give leadership to the church’s mission in the world because we are all called to share in Christ’s ministry and mission of love and service in the world. But I don’t want this work or this call to feel unobtainable, I don’t want you to walk away from worship thinking that I am asking you to go to seminary. If you want to – let’s chat, but that is not where I’m going with this. Over and over again, throughout both testaments we hear what is required of us as followers of Christ. Bring the good news to the poor, work towards release of the captives and oppressed, love one another as Christ has loved us. We are all God’s beloved, working towards bringing the Kin-dom of God to the here and now. Thy kin-dom come, they will be done - on earth as it is in heaven. This is not always easy work, friends; the world is broken and we are living through a lot of unprecedented times. We are still in the midst of a global pandemic that rips the feeling of control out of our hands on a near daily basis. It is not easy work, but it is holy work. We are called to speak truth to power; to help those in need; to help others find their voices. It is not easy work, but it is holy work. We are called to holy work in the name of Christ. I find this selection from the lectionary to be interesting; we don’t see the people’s reaction. We don’t know how those who listened to Jesus took his words. I won’t spoil it or take anything away from Pastor Lynn’s sermon next week as we’ll delve into “part two” of this reading. Honestly, maybe for today that’s what’s best. Just as Jesus wasn’t worried about how others received him; we don’t have to worry ourselves with how others will receive these acts of radical love and liberation. We don’t have to worry ourselves about whether or not society will deem this work right and true; because y’all it is not about what society thinks. The teachings of Jesus are clear: bring good news, help others, love and serve God. I have a professor who started one of his lectures by saying “Jesus was a Deacon.” It may feel like a bit of shock and awe, especially for my colleagues who are called to the Ministry of Word and Sacrament. The call to diaconal ministry is rooted in Jesus’ ministry, as is all of our calls as God’s beloved. Jesus was a Deacon; he planted the seed in all of us. By his leadership and the power of the Holy Spirit we are called and sent as Christians in this world to do as Jesus did: Feed the hungry, clothe the naked, speak God’s truth to power. This is indeed hard and holy work. Amen. This sermon was originally preached on Sunday, August 29 at King of Kings Lutheran Church in Fairfax, VA. This week we are continuing our study of how scripture invites us to embrace God’s wide welcome, because we know that God loves diversity and community. We’ve heard stories about Rahab who lived on the margins and yet is remembered for her faith and bravery; we’ve heard about Ruth, a foreigner in a strange land, who’s loyalty and kindness was celebrated. This week we’ll be reflecting on the story of the Ethiopian Eunuch and how God’s love is inclusive of all.
I went to college in Hickory, North Carolina, during my first semester I started attending a campus ministry program. This was pretty typical for students going to school in the Bible Belt, it gave us a sense of belonging, and everyone was really nice – sometimes to a fault. By the end of my first year, they were asking me to be on the leadership team and I happily accepted. However, when handed a multi-page covenant I had to sign I began to have my doubts. Being the ever-diligent person that I am, I took the document back to my dorm and went through it line-by-line. In this document there were some typical parts to it – promises of furthering my relationship with Jesus, abstaining from alcohol and drug use, and then it hit me. I had to sign my name to a document stating that a marriage was meant to be between a man and a woman. After a long conversation with the president of the organization on campus it was clear we were not going to be in agreement – or rather I was not going to change his mind on the matter, and I wasn’t going to sign my name to that document. I no longer felt welcome within that group. I never went back to another meeting. And that loss of community stung, and I felt betrayed by the ones who once claimed they loved me because I was not used to faithful communities being exclusive. Church is a beautiful thing, and people gathering for worship together can be deeply meaningful, but they can also be hurtful. There are still people who are turned away at the doors of churches for being different, whether they think differently, look differently, behave differently, love differently…There are still people who are constantly being hurt because instead of finding a place that allows them to worship God freely, they are told there is no place for them. Maybe not in explicit words, but by actions…by comments…by stares…there is still so much work to do in expanding God’s kin-dom,[1] my friends. No, I didn’t forget a letter in the Kingdom, but rather Kin-dom. A term that theologian Ada Maria Isasi-Diaz is credited for; describing it in one of her books as “the community of faith as the family of God, where we are all kin, part of God’s “kin-dom.””[2] We see a glimpse of what this kin-dom can look like in today’s reading from Acts. At first glance this is a weird story, and maybe even at second glance, too, but when we begin to dig into the intricacies, we see a story of an inclusive Triune God. Philip had been sent by God to this wilderness road, I imagine when he got there and looked around he was thinking, “What am I doing here, God?” Something entitled the ‘wilderness road’ does not conjure images of busy travelers to me, and time and time again in the Bible we hear that the wilderness is a place where people feel alone, separated from God. However, on this road, we find that there was an Ethiopian court official of the Candace, Queen of the Ethiopians, and he happened to be a eunuch. He was castrated, his genitals had been cut off. This human being doesn’t even get a name, but we know that he was coming from Jerusalem and was on his way home. We don’t know what exactly he was doing in Jerusalem, but it’s fair to make the inference that he was trying to worship in the temple there; this eunuch was Jewish in faith, but not accepted as a full convert during this time because Jewish law excluded eunuchs.[3] Imagine what it must have felt like for this person to make this long journey to the temple, only to be turned away. Not because of anything that he did, but because of who he was. Perhaps he had gotten as close to the inner temple as was allowed, trying desperately to hear what was happening, or maybe he watched those going in and out of the temple, trying to catch glimpses while imagining what it would be like to worship with others. Maybe just by being close to the temple he felt like he was part of their worship. Back on the wilderness road, Philip hears that this man is reading from Isaiah and all of a sudden, the Holy Spirit moves, telling Philip to go and join the eunuch’s chariot – he goes without hesitation. The eunuch welcomes Philip into his chariot, and they begin a conversation over scripture. Philip begins to proclaim the Good News of Jesus Christ, a person who was recklessly hospitable, as Shannon Kearns of Queer Theology puts it.[4] The temple may have kept this eunuch at arm’s length but certainly Jesus would not have; he would have gathered him close, shared a meal, and a blessing, and counted him as God’s beloved. In the excitement of the moment, they come up to some water and the eunuch asks to be baptized. He wants to be included in this radical, all-consuming faith in Christ that Philip had just gotten done telling him about. So, Philip baptizes him with water in the name of Father, Son and Holy Spirit. In this baptism, God pulls the eunuch in close just as God pulls all of us in. Our God is one of inclusion, Christ opens his arms to all, and the Spirit moves within us and the world to break the chains that hold us back. Time and time again we will find ourselves being nudged by God to the places that call us to accept others; we are guided by the Spirit in having those radically hospitable conversations; and we know Christ to be the example of love, the example to pull others in close and to let them know that they are welcome and they are beloved. This text might be a weird one, but I think we are all a little weird. This worldwide church of ours is filled with misfits and with people who are broken and beautiful and so different, and we have this shared life in Christ. Whether it is a campus ministry or a congregation, there must be a sense of this radical welcome to all God’s beloved, no signing on the dotted line denying other’s humanity. Because we know that humankind was made in God’s image[5] and if that is indeed right and true, then no human being can be turned away, but rather every human being must be embraced. Everyone we know is walking – or has walked – their own wilderness road. These roads look different for everyone, and I suspect for you, as it has been for me, a kind face offering radical inclusion would be a welcome sign of God’s love. I don’t need to tell you what your wilderness road looks like, but I do need you to know that in this community you are welcome just as you are. In the name of our Triune God, you are welcomed with the scars you bear, you are welcome for who you are explicitly, and you are welcome no matter what. Because God is one of inclusion. Amen. [1] Term attributed to theological Ada Maria Isasi-Diaz; the family God makes. https://sojo.net/articles/kin-dom-christ [2] https://anabaptistworld.org/the-kin-dom-of-mi-abuelita/ [3] IVP Bible Background Commentary: New Testament, Acts, pg. 344. [4] https://www.queertheology.com/baptism/ [5] Genesis 1:26 This sermon was originally preached on Sunday, July 11, 2021 at King of Kings Lutheran Church in Fairfax, Virginia. Today’s Gospel reading is…quite a doozy, isn’t it? An incestuous relationship, bitter resentment, a birthday party, lusting over a step daughter, an oath, a beheading, that head on a platter, and then a burial. No, we’re not talking about something from Game of Thrones, though the similarities are there; this is Mark’s account of how John the Baptist is murdered…or, actually, martyred. It cannot be denied that John was killed because he was speaking out on his principles. “Hey Herod, it’s not lawful for you to have your brother’s wife.” It’s probably not the most flashy of the ten commandments that one can stand up for but stand up for it he did.
Now, I typically don’t like rehashing a Gospel reading but I think this one may deserve a bit of that because there is a lot to unpack here. First and foremost, it’s important to note that this is not the same Herod from the Christmas story – this is his son; all-in-all not a very pleasant family. So Herod married his sister-in-law, Herodias, and John the Baptist had spoken out about that to Herod. Herod liked John, and we hear that he even feared him, because while Herod was politically brutal he was still a student of Rome and believed himself to be rather open-minded culturally. Herodias on the other hand, did not like John’s disapproval to her marriage to her brother-in-law and wanted him dead. The plot thickens! In the meantime, Herod is having a birthday party for all the important leaders of Galilee. At this birthday party his stepdaughter comes into the banquet hall that Herod is in and dances for him and his male guests. Herod, forgetting that if it’s not good to lust over your sister-in-law, it’s probably not great to lust over your step-daughter, is completely taken by this dancing and tells his stepdaughter that whatever it is she wants, he will make sure she gets. Going back to her mother, who was in the woman’s banquet hall, to seek advice on what it is she should ask for, without hesitation Herodias says “the head of John the baptizer.” And that is what she gets. Herod couldn’t go back on his word, as he had made this oath to his step-daughter in front of all the officers and courtiers and leaders of Galilee, so he beheads John the Baptist and puts his head on a platter. So it goes. Throughout all of these verses nothing struck me as much as the last one, “when his disciples heard about it – the beheading, - they came and took his body, and laid it in a tomb.” This seems pretty simple but during this time of Jesus and John the Baptist, if you sought a body of someone who had been executed you risked being identified with the same crime. It was risky to go and bury his body. It was risky for the women to go and seek the body of Jesus. Who’s bodies would we be brave enough to go and seek? John the Baptist was a martyr, a prophet, a faith ancestor….but would we have gone to find his decapitated body and bury it properly knowing that it could have negative ramifications on us? Who are the people in this world right now who speak prophetically, who lead us to those hard places that challenge and change us? What if they were killed for their words? Would we proclaim their goodness or would we be too worried about how that might look? Do we have to wait until the unthinkable happens to speak up and use our voices? To support these modern-day prophets among us? I get it, friends, it is hard to speak out sometimes because the perception people have of us can seem like the most important thing. I know what it feels like to be seen as the person you once were and when that conflicts with the person you now are – it can hurt, and it can be easy to shrink back. But shrinking back doesn’t give us the space we need to grow. Our faith calls us to be brave and strong and speak up for what is right and those whose voices aren’t heard. Our faith calls us to be like those disciples who went back for John’s body because he deserved a proper burial. Our faith calls us to be like John the Baptist who looked at Herod, a person in power, and said “you’re not doing the right thing.” It’s not easy and it’s not ideal but we stretch and we grow and we don’t shrink. A commentary I was listening to on these verses noted that Jesus isn’t involved in this story and that there is seemingly no justice for John the Baptist. At first glance that’s most certainly true, but I wonder if Christ and justice appear for John in the gentle hands of the disciples? The love and support of friends who risk it all to show up for you one final time. Perhaps, that’s not exactly justice but it is a showing of Christ-like love. So again, I ask you, friends, whose bodies would we be brave enough to go out and seek? Knowing that Christ seeks us out and will continue to again and again. Through our sustaining faith in Christ, with the work of the Spirit and the power of God we are called to care for others. The way the disciples cared for John. The way that the women went out to care for Jesus’ battered body. The way that we are called to care for and seek out others again and again. This sermon was originally preached on Sunday, June 20, 2021 at King of Kings Lutheran Church in Fairfax, Virginia. I really enjoy scripture that makes Jesus relatable; my seminary classmates and I will dub something as “relatable Jesus content.” And this story really showcases that for me. Within the first four verses we hear that Jesus was “leaving the crowd behind” and that he is a heavy sleeper.
As an introvert I love hearing that there were times when Jesus just needed to be by himself. He needed to leave those crowds behind and regroup; it makes me feel better knowing that I too need those moments of solitude and quiet to recharge. Relatable Jesus content! Also, as someone who deals with an anxiety disorder and some chronic health issues I need sleep. It is another way in which I am able to recharge my body. Hearing that Jesus immediately fell asleep in this boat and is apparently a pretty heavy sleeper also just really speaks to me. Some more relatable Jesus content. However, my relatabilities take a turn after that because I very quickly start to see where the disciples on the boat are coming from in the midst of this storm. Perhaps, more than relatable Jesus content I like scripture that challenges me. This is certainly the best of both world between relatable and challenging. I’m not a boat person. I think it has something to do with the fact that growing up one of the first movies I remember watching repeatedly on VHS was Titanic…something I am certain I was probably too young to be taking in at the time. I realize that safety precautions have come a long way since April 1912 but honestly, I get seasick pretty easily. Growing up in Northeastern Pennsylvania a common field trip location was New York City; one particular trip was to the Statute of Liberty and Ellis Island. I remember the weather on that overcast spring morning was not great, it was drizzling, and the Hudson was very choppy. So, while my classmates sat outside enjoying a “fun” ride to the Statute of Liberty I was sitting inside nestled between our two advisors, praying to God that I didn’t throw up on their shoes. I didn’t. All this to say, that in these verses I am much more likely to be like the disciples than I am Jesus. They were crossing the Sea of Galilee moving from a predominantly Jewish area to a predominantly Gentile area. They were literally sailing into the unknown and then BAM a storm! The boat was rocking and rolling and I’m sure someone was not as lucky as I was and probably threw up their fish dinner all the while Jesus is just snoozing in the stern – perhaps it felt as if Jesus couldn’t be bothered to wake up and see the kind of peril the disciples saw themselves in the middle of. But when he does wake up, Jesus speaks to the storm – the wind and the sea – and everything calms down. “Why are you afraid?” Jesus asks…It’s a bit Socratic, isn’t it? Jesus isn’t telling his disciples to not be afraid, but rather is asking them why they are afraid. Honestly, at this point I have my doubts that the disciples were even listening to him because can you even imagine the emotional rollercoaster of going from a stormy sea to dead calm in the matter of seconds just because the guy who falls asleep on the boat talks to the sea? Actually, I bet you do know that type of emotional rollercoaster…maybe not the exact same intricacies that happen in this story, but we’ve all had our fair share of storms to weather. Times in our lives when we feel like we are on a boat in the heart of a storm headed for absolute destruction, and I know for me in those moments it can feel like Jesus is asleep. Even though I have this gift of faith and I don’t believe that Christ ever leaves me, sometimes it can certainly feel like he’s asleep on my boat. God never promises us that there won’t be storms, that everything will be smooth sailing and we’ll lead lives free of emotional rollercoasters. But our God is the creator of the universe, Jesus speaks to the wind and sea and they obey him, and the Spirit is at work in this world and in us. We are never alone. Through these storms we face, even when it feels like we’re screaming to a sleeping Jesus, Christ is still there ready to wake up when we shout out to him, with his words of calm and his question of “why are you afraid?” I’m afraid because I’m human. Because the waves are big and I worry that they’ll overtake me. I’m afraid because even though I know God delights in me, what if God forgot about me? I’m afraid because the world is messy and I’m messy and sometimes it’s hard to imagine there’s enough love to go around. Because…because…because… “Peace! Be Still!” Christ says to the wind and the waves and to us. In Paul’s letter to the Philippians, he says that God’s peace which surpasses all understanding will guard our hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. We don’t have to pretend like we’re not afraid when our boats start rocking and our storms get bigger, and we don’t have to fully understand this peace that Christ brings us, but we do need to remember that even if Jesus is asleep in the boat – he’s still there and always will be. This sermon was originally preached, via Zoom, on Sunday, May 30 to King of Kings Dulles South Congregation I consider myself a pretty curious person and I think I have been from the beginning. Growing up as the granddaughter and daughter of teachers, I was surrounded by books and patience when I would begin to ask my incessant questions. I am sure my mom would agree with me that I was always seeking to know why or how or, probably my favorite, how come? These are things I still say on a daily basis in my quest for knowledge and understanding. How does this app work? Why are they continuing to do construction on 66? How come I still don’t really like Brussel sprouts as a 30 year old?
It is that curiosity that took me from saying “what is a Deacon in the Lutheran Church?” in a loud, crowded interactive center during the 2018 National Youth Gathering in Houston, to being in the middle of the process of becoming a Deacon, a Minister of Word and Service. Most days I am proudly exclaiming the words we heard in Isaiah this morning, “Here I am send me!” and some days that is immediately followed by, “are you sure, God?” Imagine my surprise when I got to seminary and learned that there are not all the answers hidden somewhere just waiting to be found. But still my curiosity continues to drive me forward, whether I’m trying to figure out how something works or what this life of faith calls me to. Sometimes curiosity can seem like unbelief, but that’s not a fair representation of this quality. Being curious about something does not mean that I inherently discredit something until I know the absolute truth. I see curiosity as something that propels us to learn more about a topic. And let’s be honest with each other, friends, our faith should spark curiosity because there are some pretty curious things within our Bible. Curiosity is a gift and it needs nurturing, what would this world look like if some of the most remarkable people you can think of weren’t curious…if Einstein just didn’t really wonder about relativity, or Madam Curie wasn’t interested in chemicals and radioactivity…what if the person who invented ice cream didn’t care about frozen dairy products! That sounds pretty bleak to me. In our Gospel reading today we hear about someone who, I think, is remarkably curious, a Pharisee named Nicodemus. The Pharisees were a social movement during that time, becoming the foundation for what we know as Rabbinic Judaism. Nicodemus was also a member of the Sanhedrin which was a type of high court consisting of elders in every city in the ancient Land of Israel. So, Nicodemus was a leader of the Jews. He was in a position to rule over other people as an authority figure, both socially and religiously. The reason I find his curiosity remarkable is that not many people who were in his place were seeking out Jesus to learn from him. Rather, they were threatened by this man who was shaking things up – going against the status quo of the time. By night, likely when no one would see him, Nicodemus comes to Jesus, and instead of pushing him away or refusing to speak with him Jesus engages in a conversation with Nicodemus. This shows us the radical hospitality of Jesus of Nazareth; instead of turning a blind eye towards this man who stood for things he didn’t, Jesus engaged him in having this conversation. Back and forth they go, and in typical Jesus fashion we hear a lot of things that stir curiosity, at least in me. Jesus tells Nicodemus about being born of water and the Spirit, reassuring this authority figure that when the Spirit moves – it moves and doesn’t leave anyone behind. Jesus’ words in this reading are inclusive of all people. And we know that it is the Spirit who gives us our most precious gift of faith in God and Jesus Christ. Our gift of faith in Christ Jesus sustains us because we believe these words he has for Nicodemus and for us, that in him, there is the promise of eternal life. It is through him and the power of the resurrection, with the work of the Holy Spirit, and the goodness of God that our faith is nurtured. We are then able to speak of what we know and testify to what we have seen, and that is the goodness of our Triune God. John 3:16 is probably the most popular Bible verse, and for good reason, it packs a punch. But it’s John 3:17, so often left off of bumper stickers or not nearly as memorized, that speaks to me and ultimately speaks to God’s character of goodness. “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.” We hear that God so loved the world, that God gave God’s only son, and then we immediately hear that Christ was not sent into this world to condemn it. It is not God’s way to condemn people but it is absolutely God’s way to work through this radical love of Christ. God knew that this world was broken and would continue to be when God entered into this world in Jesus Christ. The brokenness is not a surprise to God and somehow through grace and love there is no condemnation for that brokenness, but through grace and love there is life eternal. God knows that things are hard and have been hard and sometimes will be hard. God sees the struggles we have daily because this gift of faith does not erase our curiosities or mean that its all smooth sailing ahead. As the Gospel of John continues Nicodemus will emerge twice more, once when speaking to his Pharisee colleagues about giving Jesus a fair trial before he is judged and then to accompany Joseph of Arimathea to collect, anoint, and bury Jesus’ crucified body. Nicodemus is curious and struggles with questions of his faith, but he also grows in it. The type of growth that could easily go unnoticed or chastised. But our God of goodness and love came for everyone, not to condemn but to extend grace to, knowing that there will be days when things are easy and there will be days when things are downright awful. But we don’t go through those awful days alone. Through the power of the Spirit and Jesus’ resurrection we have this faith in God that sustains our curious hearts and leads us to goodness. And all God’s people said: Amen. This sermon was originally preached on Sunday, April 18, 2021 at King of Kings Lutheran Church. Content warning: it talks about various oppressions, including death due to police violence, and addiction. Today, I’m going to talk about scars, which can be a difficult topic for some folks... I thought about different ways to start this sermon and the many stories I have about the many scars my body carries – both visible and invisible. I would bet that almost immediately when I said scars you were already thinking about the ones that you have. The ones that you want to talk about because it’s a cool story and the ones that you are not ready to discuss because though it may be a scar it still hurts. That is OK. It is OK to admit that there is still hurt, that there may still be some “disbelieving and wondering” of how that scar came to be, just like we hear the Disciples were “disbelieving and wondering” when Jesus appeared in their midst.
There is a lot going on in today’s Gospel text, my friends. Last week we heard John’s account of how Thomas had some doubts about Jesus’ resurrection and now we are hearing that perhaps it wasn’t just Thomas as it seems that all of the Disciples were more than a little doubtful. We hear that “they were startled and terrified,” and honestly, who can blame them? They had been with Jesus in the garden when he was arrested because he fit the profile, his hands were up he was not resisting arrest and yet they beat him. Dragging him from one faulty form of a justice system to the next until they announced he was guilty. The Disciples had gone through the trauma of watching their friend and Lord be put on display, tortured, and hung on a tree. A most gruesome death at the hands of power. And yet now, here he was – flesh and blood - standing among them, continuing to spread his message of love and peace. “Peace be with you…Look at my hands and my feet…touch me and see…” says our Lord. Thanks to various illustrations of this moment in time, I have this image of Jesus – bright eyed and bushy-tailed, with only little circles on his hands, right in the center of his palms, and some on his feet, and a small little gash on his side where the spear pierced him. But I don’t think that’s an accurate depiction of our God in this moment. Because our God suffered at the hands of humanity, and I have a hard time believing that this equates to Jesus coming back bright and shiny and new. In fact, we know that Jesus did not come back bright and shiny and new. For here we are with the first Disciples, in this Eastertide, somewhere between Good Friday and Jesus’ ascension to heaven. Jesus has been resurrected from the dead and now must reintroduce himself to everyone, including his friends, and rather than chastise them or become impatient with their disbelief, Jesus, who we know is all about relationships, invites them to come-in closer, to see his scars and touch him. To feel his flesh and hear his breath. Because it is a lot harder to doubt someone when they are inviting you to come in close and see what their scars really look like. Jesus came to his friends, showing them fresh scars. Fresh, bright pink, barely starting to heal, scabbed, scars. There was probably bruising around the sites where nails were hammered into his flesh. Because even though this was three days later, rarely do scars look great after that amount of time. I say this because I am a clumsy person who often ends up with cuts, scrapes, and scars. I also imagine that Jesus in an act of love and continuation of his ministry would not want the marks that were left on his body to be glossed over. Jesus’ marks were from the state, from the Romans who thought he was the problem, who thought his radical actions of love and peace and grace needed to be stop. Jesus came back bearing the marks he received because God wanted us to know that our Christ, our God, had all the marks of humanity on him. Jesus was resurrected bearing the marks of oppression on his body. Imagine with me, the different ways in which the sin of oppression manifests today. Oppression in the form of chemical dependencies and imbalances. “Don’t worry these pain pills will help you…” Oppression in the form of that little voice that tells us we cannot do something based on perceived ability. “Sorry, there’s no wheelchair access to this building, try another one…” Oppression in the form of laws and policies which say who can do what and who cannot. “You can’t hand out water to voters.” Oppression in the form of systems that encourage us to see one another as less than made in God’s image. “But what about all lives?” These oppressions and the lies behind them make us want to hide our scars and keep people at a distance because that’s where scars only look like little dots. That’s where it’s harder to really start imagining what another person goes through. That’s where it’s easier to ignore the realities of the world we live in. Because the realities of the world we live in are hard and confusing and they don’t make sense. The reality of 13 year old Adam Toledo being shot by Chicago Police when his arms were up. The reality of Daunte Wright being pulled over for having an air freshener in his rearview mirror and never making it home. The reality that fourteen years after the Virginia Tech shooting we are becoming numb to the gun violence plaguing our country seemingly every week from schools to FedEx warehouses, churches, mosques, and street corners. My friends, it is so much easier to keep these things at a distance, to keep them far away because that just doesn’t hurt as much. But this story of Easter begs us to bring people closer. Whether it is Jesus washing his Disciples feet during his last supper, Simon of Cyrene helping a bloodied Jesus carry his cross, Mary Magdelene who is wanting to prepare Jesus’ body with oils, we see time and time again that this faith calls us to come in close and to see people rather than just their circumstances. Our Lord did not come back bright and shiny and new; he came back scarred and bruised, and still spreading his message by bringing people closer to him. “Touch me and see,” because it’s a lot harder to dismiss me when I am showing you my scars. What then does it say about us who want so desperately to cover things up, to forget, to ignore…What then do we have to learn from this Jesus of Nazareth who re-enters into society bearing his scars and showing them off by inviting people to come close to him? We learn that we are beautifully and wonderfully made, we are made in God’s image, and the scars we bare Christ also bares. We, along with the Disciples, are witnesses to the Good News of Easter. This in-between time where we are able to see Jesus’ full humanity, when he returns from the dead not bright and shiny and new but scared and bruised and desperately human while still fully divine. Jesus shows us the importance of pulling people in close and recognizing their scars. The scars of those for whom Jesus died are more than just little dots when we’re up close; the scars of addiction, the scars of illness, the scars of brutality, the scars we inflict on one another. “Look at my hands and my feet,” Jesus says, showing us that his body bares scars just like ours. But instead of covering them up or pretending that they don’t exist, Jesus gathers us in, says “touch me and see,” and celebrates our shared reality as God’s beloved. Amen. This sermon was originally preached on Easter Sunday 2021 at King of Kings Lutheran Church “But for the grace of God – I am what I am…”[1]
The Apostle Paul helped spread the good news and teachings of Jesus Christ in the first century, after originally persecuting the early disciples of Jesus. This history of persecution is something that you will find out if you read any of his numerous letters that make up a majority of the New Testament as Paul likes to mention it…a lot... After our reading today from 1 Corinthians it is pretty clear that Paul does not mind talking about himself, even in a passage meant to be primarily about the resurrection of Jesus Christ. After some bragging, then a little bit of Jesus, and then self-deprecation Paul says these words: “But for the grace of God – I am what I am…”[2] Yet isn’t that how every type of retelling of a story goes? How many of us when telling a story leave out the details about ourselves and rely solely on what happened? I know that when I’m telling a story it is easy to drop my own thoughts, feelings, and opinions on the matter leaving little room for the importance of the actual events. To me, this seems like what Paul is doing in this passage, by devoting really only three verses about Jesus’ death and resurrection. Shouldn’t something as important as the resurrection get a little more airtime, Paul? When I first looked at the passages for Easter, I was…less than impressed with this first reading from Paul, because there is just so much of Paul in a story meant to be about the amazing thing that happened in a tomb that first Easter morning. I was preparing to talk about all the beautiful things that the gift of resurrection gives humanity, and then I was overwhelmed with Paul in all his humanity. In preparing this sermon I read a commentary that said, “Greeks didn’t mind boasting,”[3] and my immediate thought was “...clearly.” Paul was writing to the people in Corinth, a major urban center in the Mediterranean though it was a Roman colony. So, okay, Paul, you need some credibility when writing this letter, boast away. Similarly, credible witnesses were also important to ancient audiences, so by hearing about all the people Jesus appeared to - Cephas, the twelve, and then more than five hundred people, some of whom were still alive to fact check Paul - the reader of the letter could believe Paul.[4] Paul is relying on his own experiences, his status, and credible witnesses to get his point across and this is the same type of equation that works to this day. Credibility matters. Whether we are watching the news, writing a paper or a report at work, or trying to convince a friend of something – we need credibility in the information we’re bringing. If I tried to suggest that a friend of mine should watch a television show that I haven’t seen or know nothing about, they wouldn’t listen to me after they found out I didn’t know what I was talking about. So, in a world where there is so much information to sift through day and night, when there are talking heads on the television yelling over what appears to be similar situations, when all it takes is one click to publish our opinions – credibility matters. Fine, Paul, I understand where you’re coming from in building up this image of who you are, where you are getting your information from, and then who can back you up to your ancient audience. Because you were telling some really wild stories and asking people to believe you. Paul was preaching something as wild as a man being tried, tortured, and hung on a tree, only to be resurrected three days later. Just like the scriptures foretold.[5] So maybe it makes sense, that Paul was turning the cross and resurrection towards him, focusing less on Christ – because isn’t that exactly the type of thing we do? It’s easier to talk about how unworthy we are than to confront this weird and awesome hope that this life of faith calls us to? But for the Grace of God, Paul is what he is, and we, as humans, are what we are. God knows that we are selfish creatures who need a lot of evidence to believe wild things, or even non-wild things, so through the risen Christ and the power of the Spirit that is what we get. We get evidence. We get witness. But we also get something else from our Triune God: we get faith. Sustaining faith and hope and love that help us to take something like an empty tomb and know that death has lost its power over humanity. But for the Grace of God, we have this faith - this wild, ridiculous faith that proclaims that God incarnate came to this earth, to live within the human conditions while doing miraculous things, was crucified, died and was buried…and rose again on the third day, and then – spoiler alert – will ascend to heaven. Whew! But evidence, witnesses, and faith are not only the things we see in Paul’s letters or in our own lives. In the Gospel of John, we hear about Mary Magdalene and the disciples returning to the empty tomb of Jesus. Mary Magdalene was standing there weeping over the tomb of her friend, thinking that someone had taken the body away when Jesus appeared to her. When she turned, saw him, and heard him, she realized who she was speaking to and then was told to go tell the others and she did.[6] Evidence, witness, faith. Evidence, witness, and faith are the things that have kept our Christian tradition alive, and it is what we are called to. We are called to tell about the ways we see God at work in our day to day lives that help us proclaim this wild faith in our Risen Lord. Maybe I was a bit too hard on Paul, because it’s not up to him to put the resurrection of Christ as the center of this passage, because it’s already the center of everything. We celebrate this day knowing that no matter what, the tomb was and is going to be empty. Whether we are in our church pews, in our recliner at home, wearing our Easter best or pajamas – the tomb was and is empty. Death will still hurt us, but it will not end us. But for the grace of God, we are believers of this radical and all-consuming resurrection promise we find in Christ and therefore we are called to spread the good news of Easter to all we meet. But for the grace of God, in Jesus’ death and resurrection our sins are no longer remembered by God. Christ is risen – he is risen, indeed! Amen. [1] NRSV 1 Corinthians 15:10. [2] NRSV 1 Corinthians 15:10. [3] IVP Bible Background Commentary – 1 Corinthians, page 492. [4] NRSV 1 Corinthians 15:5-6 and IVP Commentary, page 492 [5] NRSV 1 Corinthians 15: 3-4 [6] NRSV John 20:1-18 (heavily paraphrased) This sermon was originally preached to my homiletics class in February 2021. It was meant to be a 3 minute sermon. “Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable to you, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer.” These are the words that are often spoken before a sermon – in fact, I just spoke them twice. But over the past week as I’ve reflected on these words from the Psalmist, I realized I need them more when I am stuck in traffic on 66 or behind someone who is just really chatty to the cashier at the grocery store. Because those are the moments when the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart are a lot less likely to be acceptable to God.
In this Psalm we hear about how the law of the Lord is perfect and clear, true and righteous…we also hear about all the beautiful things that happen when it is followed. Our souls are revived, our hearts rejoice, our eyes are enlightened…and even though the Psalmist doesn’t exactly tell us what the law of the Lord is, we hear that there is great reward in keeping it. However, I have to admit to you, friends, that my favorite part comes after all of this…because the writer goes on to say, in not so many words, “Um, look, I know that I’m going to mess up and if you could just forgive all those ‘hidden faults’ that would be awesome.” Hidden faults. Like being impatient in traffic or just wanting to check out at the grocery store because there’s a pandemic, your glasses are fogging up with your mask on and you have other things to do. Beloved, our faults are not hidden to God and while that can be scary to hear it’s important for us to know that despite that fact - God loves us just the way we are. God through Jesus Christ and the work of the Holy Spirit knows us and loves us – just the way we are. When God came to this world and dwelt among us as Jesus Christ the full human experience was recognized. The hidden faults, the non-hidden faults – all of it. And God did this because of the love God has for what God created – which is everything. We are in the middle of this journey through Lent and the coming Easter celebration is growing brighter on the horizon. In the following weeks we will be reminded that through Christ’s death and resurrection, with God and the power of the Holy Spirit we are given the grace we need, but don’t always deserve, to go out into this world – hidden faults and all – and be our true authentic, beloved selves, even if the words on our mouths and the meditations on our hearts need some work. This sermon was originally preached on October 11, 2020 to King of Kings Lutheran Church; it was a message for World Mental Health Day. Please know if you or someone you know is struggling with their mental health there is help! NAMI.org American Foundation for Suicide Prevention Suicide Prevention Lifeline - 1-800-273-8255 Grace to you and peace from God our Creator and Sustainer….
“Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.” I hear these words and think about myself in High School, I’m sure I had this written on a piece of paper and stuck to my wall, or maybe on a notebook, or somewhere else that it could serve as a reminder to stop worrying…and start praying more…because that’s what would help when the frantic thoughts started circulating through my brain, right? But how could I stop worrying? Don’t worry about anything? Really? Anything? Growing up I balked at, but also envied, any bible passage that spoke about not worrying because I couldn’t stop worrying about everything and when I say everything I mean…every little thing. How could I not worry? There were tests to take, applications to fill out, clubs to join, sporting events, SATs, college decisions, and on and on the list would go…But the worrying didn’t start in High School and it certainly didn’t end there either… As it turns out when I was 22, I was diagnosed with an anxiety disorder. When I told my doctor that I didn’t think I needed an “every day” medication just a “sometimes when it gets really bad and I can’t breathe or my chest hurts” medication she very gently shook her head and said “No, you don’t have to live like this,” and handed me my “every day” prescription and my panic attack prescription. The diagnosis helped me make sense of the the worrying, there was a reason behind it, a name for it and it wasn’t anything I did it. My brain chemistry makes me think about all the things that could possibly go wrong, both in my big life decisions but also in daily decisions I make. So yes, thinking about how we aren’t to worry was, and is, a bit hard for me. And I imagine it can be hard for some of you, too…we live in difficult times and there is plenty to worry about it. I come before you today as someone who suffers from generalized anxiety disorder and depression; I take medications every day not to make me “happy” but to put me on an even playing field with those of you who can naturally produce your own serotonin – which I hear is pretty awesome. I come before you today telling you all of this because for too long the church was a place that didn’t speak openly about these things, but here I am as a testament to the fact that faith and mental illnesses are not combatants with one another. Having one does not make you lack the other. Yesterday was World Mental Health Day and in the midst of 2020, I felt it was especially important to share part of my story with you here today. The past months have been hard and the importance of mental health cannot be overstated. The truth about our God can never be overstated. Friends, we are loved and cherished by a God that knows us, our hearts, and our brain chemistry. There is nothing we can do to earn God’s love because we already have it. There is nothing we can do that would ever separate us from God because through our faith in Jesus Christ and the work of the Spirit we will never, ever be separated from our Creator. God delights in you just as you are. And God’s Spirit dwells in you even on days when things feel hard, or you can’t get out of bed, or days when you don’t know how much more suffering you can possibly take…God is there with you through all of it. God is not promising us that we will never go through hard times, but what God does promise is that we do not go through hard times alone. God is with us, and God comforts us. God, through the power of the Holy Spirit, calls people to be psychologists and researchers to make medications that help people whose brain chemistry just isn’t cutting it. God restores my soul every time I talk with my therapist and every time I am able to feel myself coming out of a depressive state with the help of different coping mechanisms. God shows me that goodness and mercy follow me when my family and friends recognize my destructive behavior and reach out to help me. In our Gospel reading today I found myself identifying more with wedding guest that was thrown out of the party because they weren’t properly dressed. “Bind him hand and foot and throw him into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.” Anyone who has a mental illness can probably relate to that verse. There are days when I feel bound by my anxieties and depression. I know what the outer darkness feels like; I’ve heard the weeping and the gnashing and, beloved, I am here to tell you that Christ knows what that feels like too. Christ is with us in those dark places. So no, I likely won’t stop worrying any time soon no matter how much I pray, and that’s okay. But if given the chance to go back to high school Alyssa who was frantically trying to use the words of scripture in place of a prescription for Lexapro, I would tell her, “Do not worry that God doesn’t love you, because, nothing could be further from the truth. It’s okay to have Jesus, and a therapist, too.” Amen. |
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February 2022
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