Sermon for Third Sunday in Lent, "Voices: Woman at the Well"

Sermon 3/27/11

John 4:5-42

Voices: Woman at the Well

            To be known is to be loved and to be loved is to be known.

Today we encounter this fascinating story from the gospel of John, the only gospel where we find this passage, the woman at the well. As I was reading over this passage I began to suspect and had to check up this, and found I was right: This passage gives us the longest recorded conversation between Jesus and another person. That should peak our interest - something important happens here.

Jesus is travelling from place to place and his destination causes him to travel through a Samaritan city. The Jews and the Samaritans didn’t get along. They had common religious ancestry, but over the centuries they had divided and come to have different religious beliefs, and their differences caused prejudices on both sides, conflicts. Samaritans believed that only the Pentateuch was scripture – only the first five books of our Bible – the law of Moses. They didn’t hold the prophets and other writings as scripture. And they believed that Mount Sinai, not Jerusalem, was the holy place of worship. But Jews and Samaritans didn’t just have different views on religious beliefs. Relations between the two groups were tense and unfriendly, with Jews typically viewing Samaritans as lower and unclean. Maybe those differences in belief don’t’ seem very significant enough – not enough to cause so much hostility – but goodness knows we fight with each other over less significant divides.

But, still, Jesus travels through this Samaritan town, and stops at a well, tired from his journey. A Samaritan woman, unnamed like so many women in the Bible, comes to the well, and Jesus asks her to draw him some water to drink. The passage mentions the time of the day that she comes to the well – noon. Since most passages don’t give us a time, we can guess again that it is significant. Noon would have been the hottest hour – not usually the hour to come to the well. So this unnamed woman, coming to the well at noon – it suggests she’s an outcast, or wants to void the eyes of others. She’s surprised that Jesus even speaks to her. As a rabbi, a teacher, a man, Jesus wouldn’t have initiated conversation with a woman in a public place. And as a Jew, Jesus wouldn’t have initiated conversation with a Samaritan, as she notes. But Jesus tells her, “if you knew the gift of God, and who it is [that is talking to you], you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water.” The woman is naturally confused by Jesus’ strange talk. How can he get water without a bucket, she wonders? Jacob, their revered forefather got water from a well with the help of God. Can this man Jesus do that? Jesus answers, “Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty. The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.” The woman responds, even if not understanding fully, “Sir, give me this water, so that I may never be thirsty or have to keep coming here to draw water.” Jesus goes on to tell the woman all about herself, her history. The woman asks if Jesus is a prophet – an interesting question from a Samaritan, since they don’t hold the writings of prophets as scripture. They debate a bit, about their different religious views. But Jesus tells her, “the hour is coming, and is now here, when the truth worshipers will worship God in spirit and truth, for God seeks such as these to worship. God is spirit, and those who worship God must worship in spirit and truth.” The woman says she knows that the Messiah is coming. Jesus says he is the Messiah.

The passage goes on. The disciples show up, surprised at Jesus’ conversation partner, but wise enough apparently after long enough with Jesus to keep their thoughts to themselves. Jesus says something to them about food to eat, and they, like the woman, are confused by his talk. But Jesus says, “My food is to do the will of him who sent me and to proclaim his work.” He talks about the Samaritans being ready for the harvest, ready to receive the good news. Indeed, the passage closes with the woman bringing others to meet Jesus, this man who knew all about her, and they believe that he is the savior because of her witness.

            To be known is to be loved and to be loved is to be known.

            I am struck by the fact that the woman does not bristle when Jesus calls her out for her five husbands. She doesn’t deny it or justify it or get upset. Perhaps she doesn’t react badly because Jesus doesn’t say it with judgment – he just states it as fact about her. But indeed, the woman takes Jesus’ words to her and uses them as a reason to compel others to come to meet Jesus: “This man told me everything I have ever done.” Now of course, unless we’re missing a big chunk of conversation, Jesus didn’t exactly tell her about her life from birth to present – but for the woman, Jesus captured the facts that have defined her life so far.

            To be known is to be loved and to be loved is to be known.

            Do we have to change in order to be loved? If someone really knew us, would we still be lovable? Or are we only lovable in so far as we can meet certain expectations? Do we have to keep people at arm’s length from really knowing us in order to be loved? I think these are maybe the voices this woman was used to hearing. And they’re certainly voices we are used to hearing, aren’t they?

            You only need to spend about five minutes watching commercials, or drive down the highway and look at the billboards, or check out the advertisements in magazines and online, or basically just exist in this world to be bombarded with messages that all say one basic thing: You are not good enough how you are to be of value, worthy of love. But if you buy this, if you change yourself, if you put on the right mask – then, then, you might be loveable. But as you are – you’re too thin, too tall, too fat, too short, too poor, bad skin, bad hair, not dressed in the right style, in the right brands, not shopping at the right stores, not driving the right car, not living in a nice enough home, a clean enough home, not a good enough parent – and you won’t really be lovable – desirable, admirable, interesting – worth someone’s time, attention, care, or love, until you can make some changes in yourself.

            To be known is to be loved and to be loved is to be known.

            Do we have to change in order to be loved? What if we don’t? What if we are totally lovable, totally valuable, totally of sacred worth already, just because we are, just because we have already been created in God’s image, just because we exist? I think, at the well, for the first time this woman hears another voice, offering another truth than the one she has been told, has been living for so long. She’s known. And she is loved. Loved and known. Jesus knows everything about her, and he still spends time with her. Knows everything about her, and still offers her living water. Knows everything about her, and yet makes no demands of her. Jesus doesn’t say that living water is hers after she makes amends for her sins or changes something about herself. He just offers, and it is hers for the taking. He knows her. He loves her. What if we are already lovable?

            To be known is to be loved and to be loved is to be known.

            The woman at the well – she does change. She hears Jesus’ voice, she wants the living water, and what’s more, she’s compelled to share it. “Come and see” she says to those in town – perhaps the very ones who have made her feel like an outsider. “Come and see” – see the one who knows me. We don’t have to change to be loved. But love changes us – being loved changes us, being known changes us. Not into some picture-perfect Christian – but love can changes us, move us to be fully ourselves, fully disciples, fully God’s.

            God knows you. Knows your heart. Knows your nature. Knows your soul. Knows you and loves you. Does that love change you? I hope so. Real love always changes us. But God’s love is there already to ground you, to guide you, to quench your thirsting soul. Come and see. Amen. 

Sermon for Second Sunday in Lent, Year A, "Voices: Nicodemus"

Sermon 3/20/11

John 3:1-17

Voices: Nicodemus

            When I was little, the small country church I went to in Westernville had a big emphasis in Sunday School on memorizing Bible verses. Every week we’d spend some time going over verses, and in the older classes, we’d actually get 5 cents for every verse we could memorize. I was certainly inspired by promise of such riches, and could memorize quite a lot of verses! Today we don’t focus so much on memorizing verses, which has some pros and cons – a single verse taken out of context doesn’t always do you much good, and in fact, can lead you to wrong conclusions when you don’t know the rest of what’s happened in a passage! So we tend today to focus more on teaching whole stories, rather than memorizing single verses. Nonetheless, you probably still know this verse by heart, in the King James Version even – John 3:16. “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” Yet, even though we know that verse so well, here’s a perfect example of what I was talking about – do you know the context? How does Jesus come to say these words? As we continue our Lenten journey, and listen in on the voices pulling at our gospel characters, today we meet up with a man named Nicodemus.

Nicodemus is a Pharisee, a leader among the Pharisees. The Pharisees were the scholars and interpreters of the law with whom Jesus was most often in conflict, because the Pharisees, Jesus argued, tried to put too many rules and regulations on the people for being “good Jews,” while managing to miss the heart and soul of it – that is, relationship with God. Nicodemus is sort of stepping out of the pack by coming to see Jesus – he’s taking a risk because he has some questions that he really wants Jesus to answer. But also note that he’s protecting himself and his position too – he comes to see Jesus at night, when he can meet with Jesus without drawing attention to himself.

            Nicodemus acknowledges Jesus’ legitimacy – “no one can do these signs apart from the presence of God,” he says. But Jesus pushes him: “Truly I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above.” Remember, the kingdom of God being here and now – that’s the core of Jesus’ message. Jesus turns the focus away from himself and his power, and to Nicodemus – and whether or not Nicodemus wants to be part of the kingdom of God. Jesus is always an outside-the-box thinker, but Nicodemus can’t understand what Jesus is getting at – “How can anyone be born after having grown old?” he wonders. Can you enter the womb again and be born? But Jesus explains that he means that we have to be Spirit-born as well as born in flesh, and wonders how one who is a teacher of Israel can’t get it.

            Then Jesus says, “and just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.” This is a strange verse if you don’t know the context. Jesus is talking about something we can find in the book of Numbers, chapter 21, this story of the bronze serpent. The Israelites, still wandering in the desert, were complaining to God and Moses about food and water, when poisonous snakes were sent among the people. The snakes would bite the people, and the people would die. The people understood these snakes to be a punishment on them from God. So they came to Moses and confessed their sinfulness, and asked Moses for help. Moses prayed for the people, and heard God’s voice, telling him to create a serpent out of bronze that would be fixed to a pole. The passage concludes, “whenever a serpent bit someone, that person would look at the serpent of bronze and live.”

            Jesus says “and just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.” The serpent, raised up for the Israelites, gave them earthly life. Jesus, raised up – and the word here for raised up is actually the same as “crucified” – Jesus, raised up, gives life too – real life, eternal life. Then, finally the verse that we know so well, and its match –  “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.” Jesus is the life-giver – that is his purpose – to give life, not to condemn and judge, but to save, and make whole, to help people see, be part of the kingdom of God.

            What we don’t know is how Nicodemus responds, at least immediately, to what he hears from Jesus. Clearly Jesus’ words have overwhelmed him. It is a lot to take in. And the scriptures record no response. What we do see in the gospels in Nicodemus appearing later – first when the Pharisees are urging action against Jesus, and Nicodemus reminds them that the law doesn’t condemn people without giving them a trial first. And then, after Jesus’ crucifixion, Nicodemus assists Joseph of Arimathea with Jesus’ burial. So we know that Nicodemus doesn’t immediately drop his nets, so to speak, to follow Jesus. But it seems like something might be sinking in by degrees – willing to raise his voice amongst his peers on Jesus’ behalf, and then, at the end, participating in honoring Jesus for his burial.

            In some ways I related to Nicodemus more than others who encounter Jesus in the gospels. When Jesus calls Simon Peter, for example, Peter just drops his nets and follows. I find it hard to imagine that kind of complete, life-changing response, so immediate and total. No time to think or plan or process. It is so hard to imagine being like that, when it seems a struggle to make just the simplest of lasting changes in my life. But Nicodemus – a skeptic maybe, confused, believing and not yet acting on what he’s beginning to believe, what he knows to be true somewhere buried inside – I find I can relate to Nicodemus. The people who already have nothing, like fishermen and tax collectors, prostitutes and poor folk, who already have been told they count for nothing – embracing Jesus makes sense. But for those who have something to lose, some power to give up, some control to hand over to God in order to enter this kingdom as peers, co-workers with the “least of these” – well, the choice is a challenge, the conflicting voices – called to the status quo or called to God and new life that requires being born, spiritually, all over again.

            You might wonder why we celebrate the baptisms of children and infants. In baptism we affirm what Jesus speaks of here – born of water and Spirit. But don’t we have to wait until we can know for ourselves, claim for ourselves that we want to be reborn? Renewed? Recreated? But what we do in baptism, when her parents and godparents and all of us take vows on Ella’s behalf – what we do is commit to helping her hear God’s voice, when we know how hard that will be sometimes in her life. And we acknowledge that even now, even already, even as she came into being, God’s voice was already calling to her, offering life. We commit to helping her claim that gift. Like Nicodemus we struggle with letting Jesus change us, even when we believe what Jesus says – and so we begin now with Ella, that she might have a whole lifetime to be a disciple.

            For God so loves Ella – for God so loves me – for God so loves you, that God gave Jesus, that you who believe in him might not perish but have eternal life. Amen.   

Sermon for First Sunday in Lent, Year A, "Voices: Tempted"

Sermon 3/13/11

Voices: Tempted

On Wednesday night this past week, at our Ash Wednesday service, I introduced our Lenten theme for this year – Voices. We talked about how many voices are clamoring for our attention in this world. Throughout the season of Lent, we’ll try to listen in on those voices, and in particular, listen for the voice of God in the midst of all the other noise. That’s really what Lent is about – that’s why Lent is a season of reflection, repentance, renewal, why people focus on sacrifice, austerity, a lifestyle that is perhaps a little less indulgent than usual. It’s a time to tune everything else out so we can tune in to God. So throughout Lent, we’ll listen in to the gospel stories where we see examples of just that – characters trying to decide which voices to listen to. We begin with one who sets the example for us – Jesus.  

In our gospel lesson, Jesus has just been baptized by John, his cousin. And he’s heard God’s voice saying, “This is my son, the beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” He’s grounded already in the truth of that voice. But Jesus has not yet taught and preached or called his disciples. It’s a retreat time, a preparation time for him. He takes this journey into the wilderness as a last time apart before a three year period of ministry that will bring him relentlessly closer to the cross, to his death. Jesus follows the Spirit of God to the wilderness, “to be tempted by the devil” we’re told. He fasts for 40 days and nights, and is weak and famished.

With Jesus in this vulnerable state, another voice calls to Jesus. We read that the tempter comes to him and says, “If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become loaves of bread.” Jesus responds with scripture: “One does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.” So the devil takes Jesus to the pinnacle of the temple, and tells him to throw himself down, quoting scriptures right back at Jesus: “if you are the Son of God, throw yourself down, for it is written, their hands will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.” Jesus responds that the scripture says we’re not to put God to the test. Finally, the devil takes Jesus to a mountain peak, and offers Jesus all the kingdoms he can see if only Jesus will worship the devil.” But Jesus sends him away, saying, “it is written, ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve only [God.]’” Finally, the devil departs, unsuccessful in his quest to lead Jesus off God’s path.

The voice of the devil tempts Jesus with power. Jesus has power, of course. But what kind of power does Jesus have, and how does Jesus use it? How does the voice of the devil want Jesus to use his power? That’s what’s at stake in this passage. I’ve always struggled with the story of Jesus’ temptation because what the devil offers Jesus doesn’t seem very tempting for Jesus. Jesus already has the power to do what the devil offers. We see Jesus multiply loaves and make water into wine. We see at the end of this passage that angels attend to him. We know that Jesus could be an earthly king if he chose – he talks about this frequently in the gospels. What’s so tempting for him in this passage, since the devil doesn’t ask Jesus to do anything that it is outside of his power to do already?

I think they are tempting to Jesus because they are easy for him, and they would directly benefit Jesus, no one else, and they wouldn’t cost Jesus in the way that the path Jesus is on will cost him. What the devil offers is what Jesus already has and already can do, but in a short-cut way that corrupts and twists. It’s the easy way, what the devil offers, and the easy way is always alluring, isn’t it? What the devil asks Jesus to do is to forget who he is, what he is called to do, whose child he is, what his purpose is. Jesus knows what he’s come for – but the devil is trying to convince him that he can get essentially the same things in a supposedly easier way. And that, I think, is the true temptation, the temptation that shows Jesus to be one of us, the temptation that Jesus withstands and calls us to withstand too.  

I think that the biggest temptations we face are not temptations that would lead us to break one of the ten commandments for instance, though of course these things can all be tough temptations. I think the biggest temptation is the temptation to forget – to forget who we are, and what “who we are” means. It is easy to listen to the voices that ell us to think more of what benefits us than what will help others. It is easier to be comfortable than to be challenged. It is easier to just glide along in life without really making an attempt to follow Jesus and live as he lived. To be “basically nice people” instead of being disciples – I think this is the biggest temptation we face. We’re tempted to forget that we’re beloved children of God, created uniquely, and created with a purpose, to love and to serve God and one another.   

In the end, what God has in store for Jesus and what the devil seems to offer to Jesus aren’t that different from one another. The devil offers Jesus power and rule of kingdoms, but this is already what Jesus has as God’s child, even if it is not in the way that the devil imagines. If both God and Satan are making the same promises to us – how can we tell whose voice is whose? Think of two stones: diamonds, and cubic zirconium. They can look pretty similar, if you’re not looking carefully enough. But one stone is highly valuable, while another is thought of as a cheap imitation. That’s what we have to do with our temptations: remember that one path is worthwhile, and the other will only offer a cheap imitation of the life that we can have with God. Telling them apart – that’s probably easier than we think, even if we don’t like the answer. I’ve generally found in my own life, that God’s voice, God’s promises, God’s path – these things usually involve doing something that I don’t want to do, don’t feel prepared to do, don’t like doing, am afraid to do, am reluctant to do, something that is harder, requires me to give, to risk, to go against the flow, to work with people I don’t like – but ultimately fills my life in a way nothing else can. Following the alternative path – the imitation path - is usually easier – requires less thought. Has more immediate rewards. Lets you shut others out. And ultimately, leaves that empty feeling in the pit of your stomach. That feeling that your life is missing something essential. That feeling that despite having money, or possessions, or security, or whatever else you bargained for – you’re still coming up short – still unsatisfied.

We might wish for a way to solve the world's problems, to actually turn stones into bread, to cure problems like hunger and disease. Instead, God calls us to work to feed our neighbor, clothe the naked, visit the sick: not by magic powers, but with our own two hands, our own time, our own resources. We might wish that we could control the nations of this world, so that everything could be done our way, even a good way. Instead, God call us to work for peace, to build relationships, to go through long and difficult dialogues across racial, ethnic, and global boundaries, to see our neighbors near and far. We might wish that God would give us a sign, proof of existence, proof of care for us, a map of our future blessings. Instead, God reminds us evidence of God's existence is all around us - it is our discipleship that needs to be tested more often than not!

Today, voices offer us tempting promises and a huge amount of power. Both the voice of God and the voice of evil promise to give us more than we can imagine. Both will give us and expect us to use power. Both promise us a full, abundant life. But only one deal can live up to our expectations. Only one path can satisfy the deepest longings of our heart. Which voice will you listen to? Which path will you choose?

Jesus calls us to resist the temptation to underestimate ourselves, to think that we can't make change without taking the easy path offered by the devil. The forty days of Lent we take as a journey with Jesus in the wilderness. God has blessed us so greatly that when we journey with Jesus we can do amazing things. We can change the world. We can change lives. We can bring joy. We can end pain. We can share God. We can challenge the status quo. We can tear down walls of oppression. We can change ourselves. That's a lot of ability that God has given into such faulty creatures. So much potential to do what is wrong, what is evil, what is easy, what is tempting. Yet so much potential to do what is challenging, what is difficult, what is right, what is good, what is demanded and required of us by our Creator. God is speaking. Are you listening?

Amen.

Sermon for Transfiguration Sunday, Year A, "On the Mountain"

Sermon 3/6/11

Matthew 17:1-9, Exodus 24:12-18

On the Mountain

This Sunday is the last Sunday in our series about goals for the church. On Wednesday, Lent begins with Ash Wednesday, and our focus will change for a forty day journey. But today, the goal I want us to focus on serves as sort of a transition between where we are and where we’re going. This week, we’re talking about worship. One of our goals is to have meaningful worship that is relevant and powerful for people of all generations. Of course, as human beings, we are all so unique and different, and what is meaningful to me in worship may not be meaningful to you. As a church, we incorporate worshippers from infancy to older adulthood, and that means we try to make worship meaningful for children and teens, for young adults and young parents, for baby boomers and retirees. It is a challenge to find a balance in worship – we try to balance traditional hymns with newer music. We try to use different styles of prayer, different types of liturgy. We serve communion in different styles. We try to incorporate imagery and sounds into our worship and learning. We try to make things relevant for today’s world, while making sure that we pass on a faith that has been nurtured for thousands of years. We try to keep familiar practices while introducing new ones that respond to where we are now.

As it happens, our focus on worship this Sunday falls on a special day in the liturgical year. The last Sunday before the start of Lent is Transfiguration Sunday. Transfiguration Sunday celebrates the transfiguration of Jesus. And the transfiguration itself is hard to describe, but we might understand it as Jesus’ true nature – all his divinity, his godliness – momentarily being seen while he still walked on earth with us, revealed to Peter, James, and John. For a brief moment, Jesus is transfigured, or transformed, and his holiness is unveiled in a sense, and three of his closest disciples witness it. To be honest, this probably still doesn’t sound very exciting to us, does it? Maybe just more confusing than anything. And indeed, I don’t think reading about it will ever convey to us exactly what happened on that day, or what Peter, James, and John actually saw and felt. But I think we can study this passage and get a better sense of things, and learn to relate to their experience – and I think that’s what’s key for us.

The text opens with “six days later.” Six days after what? The previous chapter tells us it is six days after Peter both answered the question “Who do you say that I am?” with “You are the Messiah” to Jesus, and was rebuked by Jesus, who said to Peter, “get behind me, Satan,” when Peter didn’t want to hear about the suffering and death Jesus would soon face. So six days after this, Jesus takes Peter, James and John up the mountain. There he is transfigured, changed in some way, face shining like the sun, and seen speaking with Moses and Elijah, who represent the law and the prophets, the pillars of Judaism. The three disciples are afraid and confused, but yet Peter still offers to build dwellings so that they can all stay there on the mountain. But God speaks from the overshadowing cloud: “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” Jesus, back to normal, and alone again with the three, tells them to get up, not to be afraid. And they return back down the mountain.

Our Exodus text has some similar themes today – we read about Moses going up the mountain where he receives the Ten Commandments and other law from God. We read, “Then Moses went up on the mountain, and the cloud covered the mountain. The glory of the Lord settled on Mount Sinai, and the cloud covered it for six days; on the seventh day he called to Moses out of the cloud. Now the appearance of the glory of the Lord was like a devouring fire on the top of the mountain in the sight of the people of Israel. Moses entered the cloud, and went up on the mountain. Moses was on the mountain for forty days and forty nights.” Again, we don’t know exactly what happens “in the cloud” – but clearly a deeply spiritual holy experience happens on the mountain.

From texts like these we can easily see why we might talk about having mountain-top experiences. We generally use this phrase to describe a particular time when we feel close to God. I know with the conference youth I’ve worked with, they often speak of our events, our gatherings, as mountain-top experiences – these intense, spiritual times where it seems so much easier to see God, understand what God wants them to do. It’s how I used to feel spending a week at summer camp when I was little – I couldn’t wait to get there, and I couldn’t wait to go back when it was over. It seemed pretty hard to capture that mountain-top experience when in the real world. Something about being on the mountain-top helps makes God’s voice seem clear.

One of my favorite series of books is C.S. Lewis’s The Chronicles of Narnia, and one book in the series has a mountain-top scene that seems on task: in book four, The Silver Chair, a young girl named Jill finds herself on a high mountain, being given a task by Aslan, the Christ-like figure of the series. Though she likes being on the mountain, near to Aslan, she soon must travel down into the world to set about the tasks he appointed for her. As she is traveling into the world, he speaks these words to her. "I give you a warning," he says, "Here on the mountain I have spoken to you clearly: I will not often do so down in Narnia. Here on the mountain, the air is clear and your mind is clear; as you drop down into Narnia, the air will thicken. Take great care that it does not confuse your mind. And the Signs which you have learned here will not look at all as you expect them to look, when you meet them there. That is why it is so important to know them by heart and pay no attention to appearances. Remember the Signs and believe the Signs. Nothing else matters."

So what does all of this, what does the transfiguration have to do with worship? I think worship is a time when we particularly seek to draw close to God. It’s like going up on a mountain, where we hope we will find God’s voice to be a bit clearer. And hopefully, like Aslan said to Jill in The Silver Chair, we can remember the Signs when we’re not on the mountain. In other words, we take our experience of closeness to God in worship and let it permeate our whole lives.

We worship because God is God and we are not! We worship because God is love and we seek to love in response. We worship because as God chooses us, creates us, we in turn want to say that we’ve chosen God above all else. It is God who we promise to love with all our heart, mind, soul, and strength. And because of that, and to show that, we love our neighbors, our fellow human creations. We worship because God is who God is. And we worship because we want to know this God, encounter this God, hear from this God, be moved by this God. In his book chapter about passionate worship, Bishop Robert Schnase writes, “People are searching for worship that is authentic, alive, creative, and comprehensible, where they experience the life-changing presence of God in the presence of others . . . Worship [is when] we gather deliberately seeking to encounter God in Christ. We cultivate our relationship with God and with one another as the people of God. We don’t attend worship to squeeze God into our lives; we seek to meld our lives into God’s.” (Five Practices of Fruitful Congregations, 33-34, emphasis mine.) We come to the mountain to seek God’s voice. We come down from the mountain and seek to share God’s voice in the world and let it shape our lives.

            Over the last few weeks I’ve been giving you challenges – giving us challenges, concrete ways to live out our goals for ministry in the year ahead. I hope by now, you are getting familiar enough with them that you know them – hopefully you aren’t sick of them yet!  - but hopefully you are starting to remember them well! Our first goal is about being welcoming and sharing the good news. Our challenge is to invite and bring at least one person to worship with you in the year ahead and hopefully help that person become part of the life of this congregation. I hope you’ve already started thinking about who you want to invite. Our second challenge relates to our commitment to mission and our belief that we see Jesus when we truly see one another. So our challenge is to engage in or go deeper with a face-to-face mission, a mission that is relationship-centered. And last week we talked about stewardship and our relationship with God – our task, easy or hard – is to give, every time we give, with a spirit of joy and thanksgiving, so that every time we give it is a celebration of God at work in us.

The challenge that I want to give to you this week is for you to commit to, to fully engage in worship in the season of Lent.  Lent is a season that is just forty days long. Forty days. And during this season we begin with an Ash Wednesday service this week. We will have mid-week services all season where we’ll celebrate with a meal and communion and fellowship and conversation about mission. We have Holy Week services that are unique and special – from Palm/Passion Sunday, to Maundy Thursday with communion and stripping the sanctuary, to Good Friday and a tenebrae service or a time for prayer in the sanctuary, and finally, Easter Sunday. I guarantee to you that you will find Easter worship more meaningful if you have been part of the entire Lenten journey – you will appreciate the destination more if you know what it took to get there. If for some reason you can’t get here to worship during Lent, I encourage you to worship where you are, or to be intentional about your devotional life during the season of Lent.

            If you are interested in talking more about worship and styles of worship and what makes worship meaningful, I invite you to join a small group conversation on Friday, March 25^th, at 6pm. If you want to participate in worship – behind the scenes, up front, in designing worship, or leading worship, please let me or a member of the worship committee know. Worship is the work of all God’s people, and I want you to be invested in our time together with God.

            On Wednesday Lent begins, and worship is at the heart of our Lenten journey. Come, let us worship. Amen.  

Sermon for Eighth Sunday after the Epiphany, Year A, "Enough for Today"

Sermon 2/27/11

Matthew 6:24-34

Enough for Today

            Like our text from a few weeks ago, about being the salt of the earth and light of the world, today’s gospel lesson comes from the Sermon on the Mount. We’ve skipped ahead a bit, but this passage, like that one, comes from a huge chunk of Jesus’ teaching; these three chapters of Matthew that contain the Sermon could alone consume our time as we interpret and are challenged to live in the way that Jesus sets out for us. This passage is probably familiar to you. It’s a passage we characterize as being about “worry,” although there’s certainly a lot packed into this text. In this chapter, Jesus has just talked about giving alms, praying, and fasting, followed up by saying that “where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” And then Jesus starts with today’s passage. Let me read it to you again from Eugene Peterson’s The Message:

24"You can't worship two gods at once. Loving one god, you'll end up hating the other. Adoration of one feeds contempt for the other. You can't worship God and Money both.
25-26"If you decide for God, living a life of God-worship, it follows that you don't fuss about what's on the table at mealtimes or whether the clothes in your closet are in fashion. There is far more to your life than the food you put in your stomach, more to your outer appearance than the clothes you hang on your body. Look at the birds, free and unfettered, not tied down to a job description, careless in the care of God. And you count far more to him than birds.
27-29"Has anyone by fussing in front of the mirror ever gotten taller by so much as an inch? All this time and money wasted on fashion—do you think it makes that much difference? Instead of looking at the fashions, walk out into the fields and look at the wildflowers. They never primp or shop, but have you ever seen color and design quite like it? The ten best-dressed men and women in the country look shabby alongside them.

30-33"If God gives such attention to the appearance of wildflowers—most of which are never even seen—don't you think he'll attend to you, take pride in you, do his best for you? What I'm trying to do here is to get you to relax, to not be so preoccupied with getting, so you can respond to God's giving. People who don't know God and the way he works fuss over these things, but you know both God and how he works. Steep your life in God-reality, God-initiative, God-provisions. Don't worry about missing out. You'll find all your everyday human concerns will be met. 34"Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now, and don't get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow. God will help you deal with whatever hard things come up when the time comes."

Every time I come back and study this passage, I first think: How can Jesus say not to worry? Not only do I find it difficult not to worry myself, but how can you tell people who are hungry – truly hungry – not to worry about what they will eat? And how can you tell people who are poor and without not to worry about clothing? Telling people who have experienced true hunger, true fear about shelter and clothing that God will take care of things when their day-to-day life says otherwise – that’s a pretty hard sell. But, but – we always have to take what Jesus says in the context he says it in to understand what he means – and I think Jesus means something different than easy platitudes. Jesus is tying his words back to his opening comments in this passage today about having more than one master. We can tell this because of how this section about not worrying starts. In our New Revised Standard Version bibles, we just get “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life.” But the original Greek is even more specific. It says, “Because of this I tell you do not worry.” So the whole section reads: “No one 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. Because of this I tell you do not worry.” So, in context, what does this passage mean for us?

            We’ve been talking about my goals for this year in ministry. One of my goals for us as a congregation this year is, as my covenant states, to “find ways to help [us] understand how stewardship relates to our relationship with God.” Our finance team has talked a lot about this, about what our hopes are for the congregation and how we can work together to educate about what stewardship is, what God calls us to do, about why and how we give and what our giving really does. One of my sincere hopes for us is that we can start talking about stewardship all year – and by this I don’t mean that I want us to feel strained all year by stress and worry about our finances. I mean quite the opposite, actually. What I mean is that I want stewardship, giving, to be such a core principle of who we are together, that we do it regularly all year, are stewards all year round. I find it distracting, in the midst of the season of Advent and Christmas at the end of the year, to be worrying deeply, to be stressed and absorbed with wondering whether or not we will be able to pay our own bills, when I would rather we be focused on, joyfully awaiting the birth of the Christ-child, and seeking out ways to offer gifts to others in need. I’m sure none of you would miss an end-of-the-year focus on paying bills. But to enable that to happen, we need a year-round deeper understanding of stewardship and giving.

            Sometimes we get ourselves all mixed up about giving, and then we’re confused by why our giving is always accompanied by stress and anxiety as a congregation. I think our text from Matthew suggests that we’re letting the wrong things drive us. For example – when we give out of worry or fear or stress – we’re probably on the wrong track. When we want to “get new members” in the congregation because we’re hoping they might contribute and help us meet the budget – well, that’s not exactly the good news that I think Jesus had in mind us sharing, the motivation which will really help us inspire other to be part of this body of Christ. When our mission and ministry has to be determined by our budget, instead of our budget being determined by where we see God calling us into mission and ministry, we’re in trouble. I know it isn’t just as easy as saying that our giving shouldn’t be laced with stress and worry. But we have to start somewhere, make a beginning. Just recently, we managed, in spite of the odds, to completely meet the budget we set out for ourselves last year. We didn’t think we could do it. But we did – and we did it with the gifts and graces that God has given to us – from our own resources, our own strength as a congregation. And we need to celebrate that. It’s hard for us to celebrate when we’re so used to being stressed and worried – I had to remind our finance team to take a moment to be proud of the hard work they’d done. But we should rejoice and give thanks for how God can work among us and with us and through us when we work together and open ourselves to God.

            I’ve been giving challenges to you, to me, each week, for our year ahead. Two weeks ago, I challenged you to invite and bring someone to worship with you in the year ahead, and to encourage that person to become involved in our congregation. Last week, I challenged us to become involved in a hands-on, face-to-face mission, or to go deeper in our efforts in a program we’re already involved in.

            This week’s challenge is harder or easier, depending on how you look at it. I thought about a lot of different challenges I could give related to stewardship. Members of my first church told me how one year, they were challenged to tithe for a month, and then, if they really found that they couldn’t or didn’t want to give that tithe, their money was refunded. A particular couple told me they tried it, and found it doable, and had been tithing ever since. That could be a challenge! But that’s not our challenge. Not now. That’s not what I think we need first. Here’s the challenge. Easy or hard. Every time you give to the church this year, or give to God through some mission or charity that serves in mission and ministry, I want you to stop and focus on giving from a place of thanksgiving and joy. Give because you give thanks to God. And give because of the joy that you get from giving. Maybe that seems like an easy challenge – it’s about a state of mind, an attitude. But, I think it’s harder, because it isn’t something you can just check off the list. You can’t just mark it as “done.” It’s ongoing – I want you to really think, every time you give, about giving from a place of thanksgiving and joy. I think, I suspect, I believe that if we truly start giving with joy in our hearts and thanksgiving on our lips, we will be on our way to transforming stewardship in this congregation.

             ‘Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? But strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Amen.  

Sermon for Seventh Sunday after the Epiphany, "Face to Face" (non-lectionary)

Sermon 2/20/11

Matthew 25:31-45

Face to Face

            We’re in a span of time right now that is the season after the Epiphany. It’s this time between Epiphany Sunday and Transfiguration Sunday and the beginning of Lent that isn’t really anything in particular, liturgically speaking. And it is a time that is shorter or longer each year, because it depends on the date of Easter, which then determines when Lent begins. So sometimes this non-season is as short as three weeks, and sometimes, it is as long as eight week before Transfiguration Sunday, like this year. Lucky for you, that gives me just enough time to spend a week on each one of my goals for the coming year for ministry in our congregation.

Last week, you remember, we talked about evangelism and being welcoming. You remember the challenge I gave you? Gave us? Our challenge in the year ahead, besides being God’s welcome wherever we are, is to invite someone, bring someone to worship with you this year and to see if you can help them become a part of this congregation.

This week, I want to talk to you about mission. That a church should be in mission seems pretty much a no-brainer. Who’s going to argue with that, right? And I’ve mentioned many times before that church studies show that churches that are outward-focused, focused on serving others, churches that continue to focus on others even when times are difficult – those churches are actually healthier and stronger than churches that turn inward in times of crisis.

We have a lot of mission happening in our church. To name a few: We collect food items for PEACE of East Syracuse and for food baskets for Thanksgiving and Christmas. We have monthly collections for things like personal items, hats and gloves, school supplies, and so on. Once a month, we make sandwiches for the Samaritan Center. We host the East Syracuse Meals on Wheels program, which not only provides meals for some of our own members, but also can count many of our members in its volunteers. We volunteers in the Mailroom at the Syracuse Rescue Mission once a month, and regularly serve meals at the soup kitchen. We have a team of people who leads a worship service at The Crossings Nursing Home once a month. We have a huge group every year that participates in the CROP Walk to stop hunger, either by walking, or being part of the organizing team, or by sponsoring walkers. We ring the bell for the Salvation Army at Christmas time. We carol to our homebound members and to an adult home here in East Syracuse. Our Sunday School students have put together boxes of toys for Operation Christmas Child, and they’ve raised funds for Heifer International to provide people with animals that help them make a living. We collected health kits and money for Haiti relief after the devastating earthquake last year. We host speakers to share with us important work that we support through our church – prison ministry, Matthew 25 Farm, here to share today, to name just a couple. And we have more ideas in store for the future. All these things I have listed are ways that we are in mission, and I know I have left things off the list, just skimmed the surface.

But, this year, I want even more. I want even more from us as a congregation, as individuals. One of my goals this year is for us to be a hands-on mission congregation. I am so proud of all the ways that we serve others. God calls us to go ever deeper in our discipleship. And so I want us to think about ways to be hands-on about our mission. All the other pieces that contribute to our total mission program are essential – we need to collect items and give money to support missions and help in behind-the-scenes ways. But I want us to particularly think about the hands-on aspect of mission. But maybe saying hands-on mission doesn’t help to get to the heart of what I’m driving it. What I want us to be about is perhaps more than hands-on – I want us to be involved in face-to-face mission.

What do we do when the demands of the gospel and the call for justice – what do we do when the needs of others are right there – when those who stand in need are right there, when it is all right there in our face? Face-to-face is what it is all about for Jesus. Think of the parable we just heard from Matthew’s gospel – the parable of the sheep and the goats. This parable is the last parable recorded in the gospel of Matthew, and it is the last thing Jesus teaches about before the passion – before the Passover, last supper, trial, and crucifixion. When the Son of Man comes, Jesus says, using a phrase to describe himself, the nations will be gathered before him, and the people will be separated like a shepherd would separate sheep and goats in a flock. The sheep, put at the Son of Man’s right hand, will hear words of blessing, and be invited into the kingdom. “For I was hungry, and you gave me food, I was thirsty and your gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.” The righteous or ‘just’ ones are confused – “Lord, when was it that we saw you,” they wonder? They don’t remember ever encountering Jesus. But Jesus says, “Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.” This scene repeats in opposites with those who are like the goats. Jesus calls them accursed, unable to enter the kingdom, because they saw Jesus in need and did not respond. Likewise, the goats ask, “Lord, when was it that we saw you . . . and did not take care of you?” Jesus responds in kind, “Truly I tell you, just as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.”

            In this passage, the crux, the key, seems to be in that everyone expects that they would have had a chance to show their good or bad behavior to Jesus directly. They don’t ever remember meeting Jesus. But you get a sense that all of them, sheep and goats alike, would have tried to do kind things for Jesus if they’d met him face to face. We mess up a lot of the time, but we could at least treat Jesus himself kindly, right? But the sheep and the goats don’t realize that they’ve been seeing Jesus all along – in the people they meet, in the people they serve, or the people they’ve looked over. That Christ is within us, lives in each person, is key for us understanding this parable. 

            Whether a person is counted as a sheep or a goat in this passage hinges on how they treat others. That seems fairly simple. We all want to treat others kindly. But Jesus gets at something more than that. Being a sheep or goat hinges not simply on how you treat others who happen across your path, but on how important it is to you to make sure your path crosses with others who need you to treat them well! Just like we talked about with welcome last week, when we thought about how Jesus didn’t wait for people to come to him, but went to where others were, when we thought about how we can’t wait for others to show up at worship, but have to go where people are and invite them to know God, so it is in this passage, this lesson. This passage is about being intentional – Jesus seems to focus us on not just being nice or kind to those who come into our lives, but purposely coming into the lives of those who need us, the “least of these,” who Jesus calls members of his family. In other words, whether you are a sheep or a goat depends on your relationships – how you relate to others, who you relate to, why you relate to them. This parable is about relationships with those who are the least of these. 

Nothing is riskier for us than relationships. Think over all the relationships that make up your life and your world. With our friends, family, loved ones, our relationships are usually some of the most valued things in our lives. But they’re also probably the source of some of the deepest pains we’ve known in our lives. We have to make ourselves vulnerable to be in a relationship. We have to open ourselves, to share ourselves. In any relationship, between friends, spouses, siblings, parents and children – we have to know that the person can bring us great joy, and great pain. And we have to risk that it’s worth it.

But the trouble is, because relationships are so risky, while we certainly do nurture relationships with close friends, family, we often play it pretty safe. We don’t open ourselves up to too many people. And we tend to form relationships with those who are like us, share a way of life with us. We tend to limit how much we interact with people who fall outside of our close circle of friends and family – at least how much we interact in meaningful ways, ways that go beyond the surface, ways that are more than exchanges of a “How are you? Fine, thanks” conversation. If relationships are risky, we tend to be pretty careful at limiting our risk to relationships we think are really worth our time and effort. Relationships are risky. But we’re very good at limiting our risk to only those most crucial relationships.

And then, into our carefully sheltered lives, breaks the word of God, and the example of Jesus, who was all about face-to-face relationships. Throughout his ministry, one of the things Jesus was most criticized for was who he spent his time with. The Pharisees challenged Jesus over and over for sharing meals, going into homes, healing those who were unclean, who were considered unfit for society. Jesus spent time – real time – with sinners, tax collectors, prostitutes, people everyone else hated. And though Jesus certainly had those who were close to him – the twelve – he also had other disciples – at least seventy who he commissioned for ministry, plus women who he made part of his ministry, plus children that were cared for, plus the crowds that followed him everywhere. He even spent time with the very Pharisees who so criticized him. When it came to relationships, Jesus was always taking risks, always making it face-to-face, always opening himself a little bit more, always willing to make himself vulnerable.

And so naturally, Jesus seems to expect the same of us. When we turn back to this parable of sheep and goats, we find that Jesus expects us to be face-to-face with him through being face-to-face with others. He expects that when we encounter others, we’ll see his face in them, and because of that, we’ll be ready to risk – ready to open ourselves up and make relationships.

My challenge for you today is that in the coming year you and I find at least one mission to be part of where we are spending time with the people we serve. If you’re already doing this – that’s great. But you’re still not off the hook. Find more way, or a way to take your involvement to the next level. Find a way to serve that puts you face-to-face with those you are serving. Find a way that brings you into relationship as you serve. Jesus is clear in this parable. We’re blessed when we feed, and clothe, and visit, and comfort. We’re blessed when we make relationships. When we risk. When we come truly face-to-face with the least of these, our brothers and sisters in Christ. Amen. 

Relaaaxxx

I have been spending these last few days on vacation at the Proskine Cabin at Casowasco. It is gorgeous and lovely and has been really delightful. 

I've noticed, though, how bad I am at relaxing. 

Now, before I elaborate, let me say that I really dislike the habit we have, that clergy have (maybe this is a problem for everyone else too, but I'm talking particularly about my colleagues here), of trying to "out busy" each other. Busy-ness is not next to godliness, I swear. 

What I want to say, though, is that I find it very hard to relax, and that it being so hard to relax is pretty sad, a sad reflection on ministry and culture and perhaps a statement about my need to more faithfully cultivate a practice of Sabbath. 

Yesterday, I had nothing on my agenda except having lunch with friends. But all day, I couldn't escape a sense of "should be." I should be doing this, I should be doing that. Was I in town away from the cabin too long? I really should be at the cabin so I can relax. Should I check my email? I would enjoy checking email, but shouldn't I be happy to not check my email? I have a couple of emails that I want to send, but I want to go for a walk before dark, but shouldn't I really get to those emails? 

The first day I was here I found myself a bit frantically wanting to do everything I had brought with me to do to relax. I tossed some 10 lb weights and my kettlebell in with me for exercise, a vegetarian slow-cooker cookbook to look at, some library books I've had out, some movies I rented at red box, my journal, which I've neglected writing in of late. And Monday night, I was stressed out because I was try to make sure I "relaxed" with all of those things right away. Even though I had the whole week to "relax" and even though relaxing should actually involve some joy, not more stress. 

The best vacation I ever had in my life was when I went on a cruise a few years ago. It was awesome, because I was cut off from so many things - it was expensive to use the internet for more than a couple minutes at a time, if at all. I could barely tax my mind enough to read a magazine while I was laying on the deck. Playing trivia games didn't count. But I can't afford to go on a cruise every time I need to relaaaxxxx. (Alas!) 

I'm trying to take a deep breath, and ask myself this week: What do I want to do right now? What would I most enjoy during this time? What would be really satisfying? 

My favorite Bible verse has been, since high school: I have come that you might have life, and have it abundantly. (John 10:10 b) That's what Jesus came for - for us to have abundant life. I'm trying to remember that, and let it guide my life. I'm trying to let it shape even my vacation, and I suspect if I let it guide my ministry more I would find the fruit of that endeavor as well. 

And now, I'm going to go watch some cheesy movie that I've seen 100 times already. And I think I will enjoy it.