Family Dynamics, LSTC Preaching, November 8, 2021

My Hebrew Bible text sermon for LSTC Introduction to Preaching class, based on the text Genesis 28:10-19a, Jacob's Dream.

The sun was going down, and Jacob needed to decide – hike on for a mile or so more tonight, or take refuge here for the night, in Luz, a little less rocky place to camp. He decides to call it a day – he’s already covered nearly 50 miles, and he has a clear view of the surrounding area. And his body and feet are screaming – he’s not used to this kind of travel. Besides, it will give him some time to think.

Talk about unexpected changes in life over the past few months, Jacob thinks, as he clears a few rocks from the place where he has decided to sleep. First, his dad, Isaac, took a turn for the worse. Already blind, Isaac’s health had been declining. He should have let his brother Esau have the blessing. He already tricked him out of the birthright, the double inheritance due the oldest son. But it wasn’t fair – they were born within minutes. It had burned at Jacob his entire life. And when he saw the chance to make Esau bargain it away, for a meal, no less, he took it.

Then when Esau went out to kill some game to make his dad his favorite meal for the blessing, his mom helped him trick Isaac into thinking he was Esau and blessing him instead. Esau nearly killed him, but his parents were having none of that. Isaac decided to send him to live in Haran, to work with his Uncle Laban, find a wife, and settle down. His mother, Rebekah was upset, but had no say in the matter. Esau wasn’t speaking to him, and Isaac – he was so angry and disappointed with him. It almost was a relief to get on the road, away from eyes that no longer held any love for him.

He ate some of the bread and some of the meat Rebekah sent. Not too much – it would have to last. No telling when he would get more. Esau would have had no trouble with this trek. He probably would have relished weeks in the wild, living off the land. I probably will never see him again, Jacob thought. He laid his pack next to him, put his head on a flat rock, and tried to sleep.

Every time I read this part of Genesis, I think, what a dysfunctional family! Fighting brothers. Parents choosing favorites. A wife playing her husband. A father sending his son away. This is the family out of which the family of God will grow? And then, immediately, it makes me realize that all of us are dysfunctional people. We don’t have it all together. We have conflicts. We get into family spats. We aren’t perfect parents or kids. We are all Isaacs, Rebekahs, Esaus, and Jacobs.

We think we’re not like them. We try to put on our best masks, especially at family gatherings. But we like one parent better than another, or struggle to get along with either of them. There is history, family dynamics, and geography.

In my family, there is the computer nerd, the black sheep, the woman with all the homemaking skills and the one with none, etc. We have our parents’ golden wedding anniversary coming up, and one brother may skip the event. Certainly, two nieces won’t be there. Yes, we can totally relate to Jacob’s story.

I imagine you too can relate to Jacob’s situation. Even if you love your parents, have the most wonderful siblings in the world, or perhaps no siblings at all, you have family dynamics. You may have some history with one of your parents. You may feel pressure to live up to some unattainable ideal, or your parents have placed no expectations on you at all. Even if you’ve lost one or both parents, there are memories or guilt or anger that stems from those situations. No family is immune from the complexities of family challenges.

But returning to Jacob’s situation, it is certainly obvious that Jacob is feeling the separation from his own family. However, now out on the road, leaving this family of promise, leaving behind Isaac and Rebekah and God’s promise to them that they would be central to God’s covenant, you have to believe that Jacob must feel equally abandoned by God. How on earth could anything come of his exile to live in Haran fulfill God’s promise of bringing about a new people of God’s own, a family as numerous as the stars. He may have looked up at the sky, looked back toward Beer-Sheba, and thought, “What a mess I’ve made of God’s whole plan” as he drifted off to sleep.

And this is where Jacob starts to dream. He imagines this ladder, or perhaps a staircase, depending on your translation. Bible scholar, our own Dr. Esther Menn, talks about the Ziggurat, a mud-brick mountain, unifying heaven and earth. Jacob pictures this structure and sees angels ascending and descending it. And while Jacob doesn’t climb the ladder, depending on your translation, God is either at the top of this structure, or has descended it, to be right beside Jacob where he sleeps.

God assures Jacob that he has not abandoned him or the covenant. In fact, God is right here with Jacob, on the journey, and Jacob – schemer, usurper, deceptive one – still is very much a part of God’s plan. He will go to Haran. He will be part of that great nation. And in a piece of this passage left out of the pericope, Jacob catches hold of that hope, and vows that since God is with him, he will one day return and heal the rift between him and his family.

It’s a bit shocking, isn’t it, that God has included Jacob in this future that God has been planning? Schemes and dysfunction, deceit, and exile. There’s none of Abraham’s leaving of his homeland to follow God’s will for his future. None of Isaac’s belief in God so strong that he would consider sacrificing this promised child. No, the story of Jacob is very different than his father or grandfather’s story. No wonder that Jacob was surprised by God, and God’s continuing presence in his life and future. No wonder that Jacob was both afraid and awed by this dream. No wonder that Jacob vows to go forward with renewed energy toward an unknown future, but somehow one that God will use to bring about the great nation. No wonder Jacob can vow to return to his father’s house and restore the peace someday.

We really don’t think of the Hebrew scriptures as being stories of grace, do we? We see grace in the gospels, in the epistles. We see more stories of God’s anger and wrath and judgment in the Hebrew scriptures. It is no wonder that some preachers don’t preach from the Old Testament, and even make a division between the God before the incarnation and the God that Jesus wanted us to know. This is the God of grace, God of forgiveness, the God of love.

But there aren’t two Gods. God is God, yesterday and today. The God of Abraham is the God of Isaac is the God of Jacob. And the God of Jesus and the God of us. We have moments of failure and success. We have moments where God feels distant, and God feels there right beside us. We have our own moments where we totally blow it and moments where we extend grace.

In Jacob, we see all of God’s people, including us. We can give ourselves the compassion and grace that maybe we wouldn’t be inclined to give ourselves otherwise. And we can go forward into God’s promise, knowing securely that God chooses us – imperfect us – to use our gifts and share God’s message of love and grace in our own strange, unpredictable, and uniquely challenging circumstances. Amen.

Can You See the Future Church? Reformation Sunday, October 31, 2021

This was my Hebrew Bible (Old Testament) sermon for my Introduction to Preaching class at LSTC. This is the only one of the four sermons that I actually was able to preach in real life, at Emmanuel Lutheran Church, Reformation Sunday, October 31, 2021.

Grace and Peace to you from our Lord and Savior Jesus, who is our Christ. Amen.

In our Hebrew Bible scripture today, Jeremiah 31:31-34, we hear Jeremiah’s foretelling of the new covenant, a promise God gave to God’s people.

Let’s let those last two verses resound in our heads and hearts one more time:

But this is the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel after those days, says the Lord: I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts; and I will be their God, and they shall be my people. No longer shall they teach one another, or say to each other, “Know the Lord,” for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, says the Lord; for I will forgive their iniquity, and remember their sin no more.

Most Lutheran churches use these words from Jeremiah as the good news every last Sunday in October. This day. Reformation Day. The day we commemorate our identity as God’s people, not by anything we do, but because of what God does and who God is. God’s grace is wide enough, Christ’s love strong enough to reconnect us with God, messed up people we are. That’s the truth. The truth that sets us free, as we hear echoed in today’s texts from Romans and John.

That’s good news today. Today and every day. I could sit down now. But as seminary pulls me onward, and my time in this place draws shorter, I would be remiss in wasting this opportunity to fill you with encouragement and challenge as God’s people, called to share the good news.

The Church always has been in correction mode, starting with that first Pentecost 50 days past Resurrection Sunday. The Holy Spirit ignited the believers, and what had been a small handful of disciples of Jesus of Nazareth grew by thousands from all sorts of places. The Way no longer was a secret group hiding in homes around Jerusalem and Galilee, but a Spirit-led wildfire of new believers throughout the nations. Recovering from that early morning Spirit-tossing, Peter preached to those who were watching and wondering, and encouraged them to be baptized in the name of Jesus the Christ and receive the Holy Spirit.

I imagine Peter looking out over the crowd, asking his fellow disciples: “Can you see the future church?”

The Reformation was a course correction for the Church, a movement away from being pronounced in good standing with God by what we could do, to restoration with God by grace through faith. As Lutherans, we think of Martin Luther, priest and university professor, and his criticisms, his 95 Theses, as the spark for the Reformation 504 years ago today. Basically, his 95 Theses were the 1517 version of a viral Facebook post. Thanks to the recent invention of the printing press, copies of Luther’s discourse rejecting the Church’s selling forgiveness of sin and reduced time in Purgatory were circulated widely. They spurred other theologians, such as Ulrich Zwingli and John Calvin, to speak boldly their own criticisms of the Church, and provoked opposing viewpoints. Within the next few years, the seeds of disillusionment were being sown throughout Europe, birthing the Protest, or Protestant movement.

I think of Martin Luther, on October 31, 1517, holding his 95 Theses that represented his love for the Church and his misgivings for its direction, saying “Can you see the future church?”

But our always reforming Church didn’t stop there. The Spirit blew the passion for the gospel on the four winds, and the Church took root around the globe. Here in the United States, Europeans seeking religious freedom landed on these shores. While we know the Church has its share of appalling, inexcusable history – the colonization of indigenous people, infighting and schisms, intolerance for other faiths, and rejection of ever so many people God calls Beloved – it also has moments of grace. Congregations became the centers of community life, and its people asked for forgiveness for being a part of the problem, rather than caring for all those Jesus loves.

•     Moments like church leaders marching in the Civil Rights events of the 1960s.
• Moments like the first ordinations of Lutheran women pastors in 1970.
• Moments like the Church asking for peace in the Middle East and an end to the war in Vietnam.

And that historic meeting in spring 1987, when members of three American Lutheran bodies met in the Constituting Convention to reverse the torn fabric of the Body of Christ, to bring to life a new unified Lutheran church, which became the ELCA on Jan. 1, 1988.

I can see the ELCA’s first Presiding Bishop Herbert Chilstrom, elected during that meeting, looking out over the people gathered in Columbus, Ohio, declaring “Can you see the future church?”

And the Spirit continued to blow the good news of God’s love and grace across the country: across the plains, over the mountains, into the valleys. Some of that Spirit drifted westward with new settlers to a quickly growing town, Prescott Valley, in the ranching valley between the Bradshaw and Mingus ranges. The Spirit blew them together some 30 years ago, first in a funeral home, then in the elementary school gym. Finally, on March 2, 2003, the Spirit settled them into this modest space, where they could worship and be equipped to go out and keep spreading the good news.

I can imagine Kirk Anderson looking over those of you gathered that day, ready to continue the adventure, saying “Can you see the future church?”

And the story only begins there. The baptisms, the confirmations, the weddings, the new member gatherings. Our commitment to growing benevolence funding for the larger Church, and outreach to local organizations that serve the least, the last, the lost, and the little. Our first God’s Work, Our Hands events, and all the ones since. The Congregational Meeting in January 2017, when we voted to become a Reconciling in Christ congregation, welcoming everyone, especially people of every sexual orientation and gender identity. Our studies of racial justice. That weekend during the global pandemic, no less, when we moved forward to make worship accessible to anyone, everywhere, via livestream. 

So many moments of change, of reformation. Hard work. Difficult decisions. And so many moments still to come for this family of God in Christ. Paths we will take. And the paths we won’t.

I can see the president of the congregation at Emmanuel’s 50^th anniversary celebration in 2042 – you know, that’s not so far away anymore – speaking words of anticipation toward the next 50 years: “Can you see the future church?”

Reformation Sunday. A day to commemorate and remind ourselves that the Church is always changing, always adapting, leaving some things behind, and finding other ways to live out God’s love in a world that so desperately needs it. A chance to reboot and know that the Spirit is working now to help reform the Church for those future days. And Jeremiah’s words foretelling God’s covenant still are so appropriate as we live into that future. Listen to those words, brought up to date for 2021

The time is drawing near when I’ll work with believers in a whole new way. It won’t be like I did in Israel, when I led the children of Israel out of Egypt by pillars of fire and pillars of smoke, allowing them to wander in the wilderness for a long time until they were ready for the land of promise. It won’t be like the church after Pentecost, people who kept fighting about the right way to be Christ followers. And it won’t be the way of Christians of today, meeting in buildings to praise me on Sunday, then acting indifferent to Love the other six days.

This is the brand-new promise that is rising up – the truth. I did not intend to create a religion – I came to bring the truth: live peaceably, show compassion to one another, care for the earth and its living creatures. You don’t need that written on stone tablets or sacred books – it’s in your heart, your very DNA. You know love because you are loved, cradle Lutherans and people who walked in the door this week, those who can define all those big churchy words, and those who really don’t care. My grace covers you all, every beautiful and broken piece. Grab onto that truth, my kids, and hold on tight. We’re in for some wild times. Are you with me?

Or to put it another way: “Can you see the future church?”

Amen.

Freed From ... Freed For, LSTC Preaching, October 18, 2021

My epistle sermon for my LSTC Introduction to Preaching class. Based on the Transfiguration Year C epistle text, 2 Corinthians 3:12-4:2.

“Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.” The good news doesn’t get much better than this. Living in relationship with God, through Jesus, isn’t a burden or somber sentence, but a joyful process of becoming the people God created us to be.

Taken out of context, however, or without a clear sense of the responsibility that goes with that freedom, our freedom becomes a double-edged sword, hurting us and the name of the One we say we follow.

The disciple Paul, writing to the troubled church at Corinth yet again in today’s second reading, needed to provide some context for life together. Because of Jesus, Christians no longer were bound by the law, the rules that led to death, because no one could be without sin. Instead, they were set free to live in relationship with God through Christ, a new covenant, a promise that leads to life everlasting for followers of Jesus.

Like those early Christians in Corinth, we are set free to live lives that demonstrate that new relationship. We are freed from death, freed for transformation, and freed for lives that bear the fruit of our life in the family of God. Let me touch on each of these area briefly, starting with being freed from death.

“Why are so many Christians such unhappy people?” a Christian friend asked rhetorically. She had run afoul of one such Christian, a man with a perpetual scowl and gloomy disposition, forever finding fault.

We’ve all known people like him, people who have turned this new life in Christ into death once more. In many ways, we American Christians come from a long line of Death Preservers, going back to the Puritans, who came to America for religious freedom, but covered freedom in Christ with new laws and taboos. It’s almost as if these believers see freedom in Christ as a gift to hide away, not something they should open and enjoy in the here and now. “This is the way we’ve always done it” is their watch word. They suck the air out of the room wherever creative ideas and hopeful energy arise.

Encouragement to “lighten up” brings renewed zeal for control. They rarely leave but become the minority votes on councils and congregation meetings. They are the first ones to gleefully shout “I told you so,” when a new initiative fails. Set free? It’s hard to see the Spirit behind that frowning façade, but occasionally, a ray of light escapes when they find a ministry that matches their passion. Recognizing when it happens and building on it sets them free.

So, we are freed from death by our new life in Christ, but as part of that new life, we are freed for transformation. Paul explains to the believers at Corinth that those in Christ “are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another, for this comes from the Lord, the Spirit.”

This is particularly challenging for cradle Lutherans, the people who have known from the time they were old enough to run up for a children’s sermon, that the answer always was JESUS, and everything they might face in life is covered in a Bible story or Luther’s Small Catechism. They’ve heard it all before: “this is most certainly true.”

Sometimes, people are hungry for knowledge, eager to have their questions answered. They turn their faces to let the glory of the Lord work on them. Others see little reason for transformation, because they think they’ve seen it all, heard it all, and done it all.

I remember a couple of long-time members of my congregation, recruited as Confirmation mentors, adults paired with a young person through the two-year program. Thinking they were there to help Johnny or Suzie memorize Bible passages and the Creed, they jumped in wholeheartedly, and became the ones transformed by today’s teens and their challenging questions about how faith applies to their lives in the 21st Century. The teens gave them no passes on pat answers for why God allows tragedy or whether God has a plan for their lives. And in writing a faith story with their teen, they turned to the Lord, and found their minds opened and softened to hear the Word speak to them anew. Once we stop asking questions and growing, our faith is bound. Transformation is the key that sets God’s people free.

Paired with this transformation, our lives should shine with the glory of our changing image. All of us are moving toward that same perfect image, mirrored differently in each one of us through our own abilities and spiritual gifts. The transformation of a servant heart happens equally to the person who sings in the choir, as the person who teaches Sunday School, as the person who helps fix up the church landscaping.

The trouble starts when an overexuberant volunteer coordinator, church staff member, (or forbid it, Lord,) a PASTOR, tries too hard to force someone to run toward this changing image, when the person is only ready to gaze at the possibilities or take baby steps. The church needs to recognize those who are sitting on the back wall, as a friend of mine did when she came back to church after leaving church for two decades, and not push them back out the door. We need to let people discover their own gifts and passions in the body of Christ, and not force them to be a mouth, when they are suited to be a heart.

After several invitations, a friend of mine visited our church and became a regular. She is a former fundie, attending non-denominational and Baptist churches at various points in her life. Lutheran liturgy and rites were mysteries to her. She knew a handful of people, but had come to a couple of Bible studies, and was gently being transformed by grace, a pretty foreign construct for her. Introverted and shy, prayer and social-justice work were two of her loves. She started attending our contemporary service, as she preferred the music to the traditional hymns that spoke to my heart. Months later, she joined the church. Eager to understand Lutheran history and theology, she committed to the two-year Diakonia program. That blew me away.

However, as if sensing fresh meat, our interim pastor cornered her one day and talked her into taking over the altar guild coordinator vacancy. This is perfect, the pastor claimed, as it would allow her to meet many new members and learn why we set up things the way we did.

If ever there was a mismatch for a church role, this was it. Gentle and private, she hated calling people and talking them into scheduling their altar guild service. She had no idea about colors and seasons of the church year, but she was expected to teach others. Shy, she was supposed to recruit new members for the team. She was a heart being asked to be a mouth, and it wasn’t working. She managed for four months, then broke down. I had to talk her into resigning that role for her own peace of mind.

She originally gave them a month’s notice, but that stretched out to two, then three months, as the church did not fill the vacancy. Finally, she said “I’m done!” Her gifts for prayer and social justice are just not cultivated in my congregation. Frustrated, during the pandemic, she started viewing the local UCC’s worship, and went to talk to that pastor. It was a bittersweet parting, as I hated to see her leave, but knew she would be a better fit there. We are freed, in Christ, to be part of the body of Christ with our own special image of God, and the gifts God prepared us to use.

My friends, called as future leaders in the church, we have some powerful and weighty responsibilities in the Body of Christ. We are to build up the body, lead by word and example, preach and teach the Word of God, and discern and prepare other leaders for service in the Church.

As you move forward in MIC, internships and first calls, take with you these instructions from Paul to a first-century group of believers in Corinth, words that echo truth for the Church today. Don’t add more Law to Christ’s Church than is necessary. Stay free. The way of the Law leads to death, but we are set free by the new covenant, the new relationship with God in Christ. This IS the good news that leads to life: for ourselves, our ministries, and the whole people of God. Amen.

Promises Made, Promises Kept, Ex 12 NL YR3-4, October 4, 2020

 We’ve skipped over centuries of history from last Sunday to now, from Joseph bringing his family to Egypt because of the famine, to the enslavement of the Israelite people by the Egyptians. More than 400 years has passed as the Egyptians progressively made Israel’s sons and daughters lives more miserable with brickmaking and fieldwork. Egypt’s Pharoah has tried to weaken the Israelites, ordering midwives to kill the sons of Israel’s women. Instead, the enslaved people have multiplied, causing the Pharaoh to fear the Israelites will side with one of Egypt’s enemies. The stage is set for something inconceivable to happen, for God to use this occasion to keep a promise.

Promises. Do you remember a time growing up when someone important to you made a promise and kept it? Maybe it was that day, but maybe it was a promise that took months or even years to keep. Or maybe a time when someone broke their promise. You remember those moments. People expect people to keep their promises.

I remember when Mike and I first moved to Arizona. It was 34 years ago today – I remember, as it was my 23^rd birthday. We had driven straight through from Wisconsin, through Illinois, Missouri, Kansas, Oklahoma, Texas, and finally, through New Mexico. Almost there. The sun was just coming up as we came over a rise on Interstate 40, and the horizon was FILLED with hot-air balloons. We turned on a local station to discover it was an annual event, the Albuquerque International Balloon Festival. Mike promised me that some year, we would come back and celebrate my birthday there, on the ground, surrounded with the colorful spectacle of thousands of balloons lifting off around us.

Working here in Cottonwood for the Verde Independent, my job was especially busy in the fall months, with schools and sports stories galore – we never could get away. It wasn’t until 2008 that we finally spent the weekend there, viewing the mass ascension, the balloon glows, and meeting up with a former co-worker who had moved there. Not only was it wonderful beyond our imagination, but because it didn’t happen immediately, our son was able to share it.

Promises kept are an important part of relationship building.

Imagine being an Israelite family in Egypt. As long as anyone could remember, they had been in bondage to Egypt. Despair had set in, and God’s promises to make Abraham’s children a great nation mocked them. How great was this? Their songs and stories in worship tasted bitter and empty.

But finally, God lifted up Moses to deliver them. Plague after plague, hope returned. Maybe this would be the one. Soon, Pharoah tired of the plagues. “Fine – you want to play games, I’ll keep you too busy to play games. Gather your own straw for the bricks. But keep producing the same amount.” Pharoah expected the Israelites would turn on Moses. But God was ready to keep God’s promise.

Moses gave the people God’s instructions: prepare your homes and families. Select an appropriate lamb to sacrifice, mark your doorposts, pack your things. Prepare your bread – but don’t expect to have time for yeast to rise. We need to be ready to move. It’s finally time for the Lord to deliver us.

And when the Egyptian first-borns died and the Israelite households were passed over, the Pharoah told them to go. Go! Now, before your God strikes more of us dead! Leave, now! And prepared by God’s instructions, they were ready. They were on the move before Pharoah changed his mind. Finally, God had kept God’s promise.

But were God’s people ready to live into that promise of being God’s freed people? The story of the next 40 years looked nothing like a grateful people who trusted in God’s promises to keep providing for them. Time and time again, God’s people turned away, ready to turn back to Egypt and worship idols rather than trust in God’s provision. Over and over, Moses reminded them of how God delivered them, how God provided manna and quail and water when they needed it. Every year, they took time to remember the Passover, when God passed over their homes, struck down the Egyptian’s will, and allowed them to escape bondage. When God kept a promise that they would be God’s own chosen people.

 It would be a few more generations before Joshua led them into the promised land, their own land where they could live, multiply and prosper. Even then, God’s people would fail to trust, over and over, and would fall back into bondage. It was centuries later, during a period of Roman occupation, that God again kept God’s promise … this time, the promise of a long-awaited Messiah.

On that night in the upper room, Jesus celebrated the Passover with his disciples. The Passover Seder is a time when Jewish families remember God’s great faithfulness. In the centuries old tradition, Jesus reminded them of God’s promises – promises kept, from the matzah bread, the bitter herbs, the lamb. And then after supper, Jesus changed the script. He gave his disciples his own promise. As he held up that third cup of wine, the cup of redemption, he told the disciples that  HE  was the fulfillment of that promise, the new covenant that through his life, death and resurrection, they would be God’s people forever. And again, that word. “Remember” – Do this to remember me.

Jesus already had made them promises. He told them that he was going to prepare a place. He shared that he was going to die, but on the third day, he would overcome death. And on this last night together, he made them another promise, that he was going to bridge the chasm between them and God for all time. God’s grace was enough, and God’s kingdom was theirs.

In these days of uncertainty, perhaps promises don’t ring true to you. Maybe you’ve been hurt too often by family, friends, employers, politicians -- the world in general. 2020 has been a difficult year. Our faith in promises is shaken. The pandemic numbers keep rising. Nothing we hear sounds trustworthy. Let me assure you: you’re not wrong. The world’s guarantees have never been anything but empty words, shifting sand under our feet. In this time of hopelessness, we need to grasp God’s promises tighter than ever.

On most Sundays, we would remember God’s new covenant again in our Lord’s Supper. Today, instead, I invite you to meditate on all of God’s promises, promises we make in the confession, the creed, in our prayers, in our hymns. And next week, when you join together with Pastor Sharon in the feast, listen to the words and REMEMBER how you fit into God’s story – promises of God’s faithfulness, from the beginning, to now, and to the end of time. In that you CAN trust.

Amen.

Justice, NL YR3-3, Sept. 27, 2020

Grace and peace to you from our Loving Creator, and from our Savior, Jesus, who is our Christ. Amen.

As many of the itinerant preachers of the early centuries did, I bring you greetings from the places where I’ve been, so greetings both from the family of Christ at Emmanuel Lutheran in Prescott Valley, which had its first in-person worship in six months last Sunday, and from the future leaders of the church gathered virtually through the Lutheran School of Theology at Chicago, where I am a first-year full-time seminarian, at long last!

Justice is heavy on my mind this week: Justice in the grand jury outcome in the Breonna Taylor case, justice for our planet and our children’s children who will live here, and then justice in our Biblical account today: for the family of Jacob, Joseph and his brothers, and their children.

Let’s begin with Joseph’s brothers. In the preceding chapters, Joseph’s brothers come to Egypt to buy food for their family, as they are deep into a famine. They reconnect with Joseph, who was enslaved because of their actions, imprisoned, then rose to greatness in service to the Pharoah. He insists the family move to Egypt, where he can provide for them in the coming years of the continuing famine.

A grateful Jacob reconnects with his favorite son, and all seems well, until Jacob dies. Then, his brothers realize, there is no reason for Joseph to continue to treat them well. This, they assume, is where Joseph will enact justice for what they did to him decades earlier. And they know they deserve whatever he does.

•     He has the power; he could have them killed.

• He can have them thrown into prison.

• He can refuse to give them more food, and they will starve.

• Or he can order them into slavery, as he was sold into slavery as a youth.

So, terrified, they concoct a story (How’s that for going right back to creating stories to cover for their misdeeds?) They told Joseph that Jacob, on his deathbed, asked that he forgive them. Then they offer themselves as slaves – not the best outcome, but better than imprisonment, starving or dying. And they wait for whatever justice Joseph gives.

Joseph didn’t command death, slavery, starvation or even imprisonment. Joseph forgave them and wiped away a lifetime of lingering pain. Joseph had the power to choose anything as justice, and Joseph chose … LOVE.

And the tears fell. And the hugging. And probably another banquet of food. Joseph was freed from the burden of hate – he had his family for life. The brothers were finally freed from the burden of fear, that Joseph would enact revenge. That’s what forgiveness does. It frees us.

Crowds of people gathered in Louisville, Kentucky, and many other places this week, as a grand jury was set to release its indictment in the case of Breonna Taylor, the young EMT who was killed in her home by a police officer, during a no-knock warrant served at the wrong address. JUSTICE FOR BREONNA, some of the signs read. Wednesday night, after no officer was charged in her murder, and one detective was charged for wanton endangerment for firing into the neighboring apartment, crowds in Louisville and elsewhere became violent. NO JUSTICE, NO PEACE, they chanted. Two Louisville officers were shot, but are expected to survive. The shooter was apprehended.

Where’s the justice for Breonna Taylor?

Thursday, I spent three hours on Zoom, meeting with 180 other national interfaith leaders and church members who are concerned about climate change. We have a decade, give or take, before there is no turning back from the damage excess carbon emissions are wreaking on this planet.

I think about my son, Michael, who was only 7 when we left Spirit of Joy – He just turned 30. I think about the sons he’s raising now: Logan is 9 and Nathan is 7. What kind of world will we give to them?

Where is the justice for Michael, for Logan and Nathan, the justice for all the children of the world?

I wish justice for Breonna and other black lives lost came as easily as forgiveness happened with Joseph and his brothers. I wish we could say we’re sorry for the harm we’ve caused this planet and make it all better. But justice isn’t nearly that easy. Our world is broken. Our relationships with each other and this planet are broken.

Here in God’s family, we have a name for that brokenness – Sin. In some cases, sin is easily wiped away by the vastness of God’s grace.

And sometimes sin can be wiped away but repairing the damage of that brokenness takes all of the energy we can muster. We need to repent – literally turn ourselves from the actions we’ve been taking, and go in the other direction.

This week has been a kick in my stomach as I realize that I can’t ignore this and think someone else will do the work of racial and climate justice.

I am terrified to look inside myself and decide how I need to change to do my part to rid the world of systemic racism. What is it that each of us needs to hear, to learn, to turn around in order to move forward toward justice for our black and brown neighbors?

It takes courage to admit we’ve taken and taken and taken without any obvious consequences, and we’ve abused this planet to the end of its ability to sustain life. We can’t wait. We’re out of time. We have to turn around.

I will say it again. Justice for God’s family, justice for God’s creation has NO easy answers. But every one of us has a part to play in creating a more just world, and we need to get started, now.

Amen.

Cluttered Hearts, Pentecost 8C, August 4, 2019

Preached August 4, 2019 at Emmanuel Lutheran Church, Prescott Valley, AZ, the year before I entered seminary.

Grace to you and peace from God from our Father, and from our Lord and Savior Jesus, the Christ. Amen.

“Storage Wars” is the name of a show on the A&E Network. A group of second-hand shop owners go to storage-unit auctions and bid on units that people have abandoned. The bidders can only peek inside the unit. They can’t enter, move things, or open up boxes. So, buying a unit is a gamble. It could be empty boxes, or boxes of old clothing and junk, or it could be valuable equipment, antiques and collectibles that will return their investment many times over. 

Abandoned storage units. Their owners get behind on payments, leave town, or die, and the storage business sells the contents to recoup its losses. Someone’s possessions and treasures become sales inventory, or they end up in the landfill. 

Industry statistics say storage is a 38-billion-dollar-a year-business in this country. Enough rental storage space exists in the United States for every adult and child to have nearly 5 1/2 square feet!

Storage. A place for our overflow of stuff. Like when the kids move away, and you want to turn their bedrooms into your office, a guest bedroom or a crafting space, you box up their “stuff” and put it in the garage, because “Someday, they’ll want that.” You put it next to the boxes of “stuff” you brought home from your parents’ home when you moved them into assisted living, intending to sort through them. And when winter comes and you want to put the car in the garage again, you get the coats and sweaters from storage, and put away those boxes.

Organizing stuff is another big business. A few years ago, Marie Konde had a best-selling book, “The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up.” She was named one of 2015’s most influential people and has converted the art of Feng Shui and the phrase “Keep What Sparks Joy,” into four books, a branded line of organizing products, and a Netflix series.

But even Marie Konde knows that our accumulation of stuff is more than buying what we can afford, more than our desire that our families have decent clothing, toys, and educational materials. Our materialism goes far beyond our needs. 

She explains it like this, “We all have clutter in our hearts, and that’s what needs tidying.”

Cluttered hearts. That’s not a diagnosis from the cardiologist, but the condition the Healer talks about in today’s Gospel:

Jesus said to them, “Take care! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions.” In the parable today, Jesus shows us the three symptoms of a cluttered heart.

·   The First Symptom, an emphasis on Bigger, Better and More. Bigger, better and more – the rich man was going to tear down his smaller barns to build bigger ones, so he could store ALL of his grain and his goods. But have you ever noticed, for some people, ENOUGH never is? There is always something else they need: a bigger house, another vehicle, more toys. There’s a bumper sticker that was popular for a while: “He who dies with the most toys wins.” My reaction always was, “Wins What?”

·   The Second Symptom of a Cluttered Heart: Self-Centeredness. Suddenly, your sentences are dotted with “I, me and mine.”  Listen to the rich guy:

“And he thought to himself, ‘What should I do, for I have no place to store my crops?’ Then he said, ‘I will do this: I will pull down my barns and build larger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods. And I will say to my soul, Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry.’  Goodness, he even has a conversation with himself about his abundance. He is Self-Centered, Self-Absorbed, Self-Important and Self-Obsessed. 

·    And the Second Symptom is usually followed closely by the Third and most profound Symptom of a Cluttered Heart: Loneliness. When I, me and mine become one’s priority, where is the room for family, friends and God? Nowhere in the story does the man say he will celebrate his harvest with this family and ask them what he should do. Nowhere does it say the man will see if his neighbors’ harvests were equally abundant, and make sure all of them have enough. 

And especially telling is the rich man’s lack of Gratitude for his abundant harvest. Not a word of thanks for the sun and the rain, the good seed and the good earth, and the generous amount of grain that he reaped. Not an offering of first-fruits, or a donation to the local synagogue’s “grain bank.” Nope. He’s stacked up his grain and goods so he can eat, drink and be merry for years to come. 

·   As with many diseases, there may be False Positives. Some people think being educated, talented, successful and/or wealthy are additional signs of Cluttered Hearts. And sometimes they co-exist with “Bigger, Better and More.”  All of us can name famous athletes, actors, CEO’s, politicians and billionaires.  The diagnosis depends on how they use their gifts and wealth. Is it all about them, 24/7, or are they generous and giving, humbly providing for others?

Most of us have heard of American steel tycoon Andrew Carnegie. The American steel tycoon is said to have donated 90% of his wealth – about 19 billion in today’s dollars – to charitable causes. Carnegie, the author of the book, “The Gospel of Wealth” wrote, “No man can become rich without himself enriching others. The man who dies rich dies disgraced.”

Another example is Chuck Feeney, the co-founder of Duty-Free Shopping. He has given away $8 billion dollars to charitable causes, signing a document in 2003 to sell his assets while he is still alive. “Giving While Living,” he calls it. Feeney, who is 88, is said to have lived frugally throughout his life, currently living in a modest rented apartment in San Francisco, just $2 million of his total wealth remaining. Like Carnegie, Feeney’s wealth was not greed, but a means to make the world a better place. His heart remained uncluttered.

If Jesus was concerned enough to warn us about Cluttered Hearts, how can we avoid contracting this disease? Fortunately, the cure is a simple triple shot of Vitamin B: Basics, Building Up and Belonging.

The first shot – Basics – is realizing more is not always better. Back to Marie Konde, Simplifying is her thing. Keep what brings you joy -- donate or discard the rest. Decluttering isn’t a one-time thing. In fact, it’s a daily thing. Learning to draw boundaries, saying no to too many demands is part of avoiding a Cluttered Heart.

The second shot – Building Up – is the opposite of Self-Centeredness. Let others have the limelight, mentor, let others lead. Take pride in others’ accomplishments. I love to watch Larry Gordon work with the youth and see his humble guidance of these leaders. Not young people. Not tomorrow’s leaders. LEADERS. Our youth are bright, inventive, eager and giving. It’s great to see them take over.

And the final shot is Belonging. Remember how the story ends? After the abundant harvest, the rich man is off planning bigger barns, not knowing he would die that night. Was his legacy his work, his elaborate plans for a farming empire? Or was it a grateful and trusting faith? An unsurpassed love for his family? A generous, giving spirit for his neighbors? Let go of the work, the full schedule, the worrying about tomorrow, and be present with God, your family and your friends right now. Or as Jesus told it:

“But God said to him, ‘You fool! This very night your life is being demanded of you. And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?’ So it is with those who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich toward God.”

Cluttered Hearts? Or Rich Toward God? I pray that you are guided to live well in mind, body, soul, and especially your precious heart.

Amen.

 

Vulnerable, Maundy Thursday 2016

Originally, one of three reflections shared at a Maundy Thursday worship with footwashing, March 24, 2016, based on the text from John 13:1-11.

This foot-washing text comes around only once every three years, and as timing would have it, I’ve missed removing my footwear in the sanctuary during worship any place I’ve been. My entire life.

This is certainly a night of firsts for me. Here I am, talking with you, my bare toes well over the edge of my comfort zone.

Bare toes – a picture that reminds me of growing up. My family didn’t wear shoes in our house. As much as my mom wanted shoes to be taken up to our bedrooms, there were shoes on the porch. In the living room. In the hallway from the garage. With five boys, two girls and two parents, that’s a lot of shoes, even if it was just the pair we were wearing that day.

And you could tell how close to our family our guests were by what they did with their shoes. Close friends and family kicked off their shoes when they arrived. Guests never did. As girlfriends and boyfriends became part of the family, they, too, started taking off their shoes.

So I knew been away from home for too many years before the last trip home. I realized it on the second day. I got up, put on my clothes and shoes and had breakfast. Went outside, came back inside. Finally, my mom frowned at me:

“Gail, why don’t you take off your shoes and stay a while?” 

It was as if I was wearing a winter coat or a hat indoors. I wasn’t really home yet. I was still acting like an outsider.

And tonight, it’s the last night for Jesus with his disciples. Jesus grabbed a towel and a basin, and before the disciples sat down to eat, one by one, Jesus removed their sandals and began washing their feet. Calloused feet and dusty toes touched by the Master’s hands as he rinsed and dried them.

I can only imagine Peter at the end of that line, watching Jesus silently working. Discomfort welling up inside Peter as he watched the man he recognized as the Messiah doing this. And then Jesus knelt before him… 

“NO. You will NEVER wash my feet!” 

Ever been in Peter’s sandals? Holding back? Like me at my parents’ home – setting myself apart from my community. 

I’ve been there. Right here in this place. For the first couple of years here at Emmanuel, I resisted being part of this family. Oh, I could read the lessons every six months. Come to a few Communication Ministry meetings. I was a regular in worship. But I kept my distance and didn’t get to know anyone.

I didn’t need that. I could manage on my own – thank you very much.

Then came those moments when I couldn’t – Unbearable grief. A job transition. – And people in this community reached out to me with basins and towels. Basins of introductions and Bible study invitations, and hugs and words of encouragement wrapping me like soft towels.

I needed my feet washed. And several of you knelt down before me and gently demonstrated Christ’s love. I learned how to allow my feet to be washed, and then learned how to wash other people’s feet. 

Foot-washing. We don’t do it to re-enact a Gospel story. We do it to remind ourselves that if we hold ourselves in isolation, refusing to serve and be served, we keep ourselves from the community Jesus intended us to be. Loving each other who are in the world. Loving them to the end.