Faith Makes a Difference

This Gospel story is full of surprises. Imagine – a paralyzed man on a stretcher coming down through your roof.  Even Jesus seemed surprised – and amazed. But then, Jesus surprises everyone by saying to the man: “Son, your sins are forgiven."

I’m assuming that the friends were surprised because they were hoping that Jesus would physically heal the man. As for the scribes – they were surprised – but in a negative way as they wondered: who did Jesus think he was?

But Jesus isn’t done surprising people. He demonstrates his authority to forgive sins – something that cannot be seen - by doing something that can be seen – healing the man. Jesus says to the man, “stand up, take your mat and go to your home." And the man immediately stood up, took the mat and left.”  Again, everyone was surprised and gave thanks to God. 

I like this story in the Gospel of Mark not only because of the many surprises – but also because I think that we can see ourselves in this story.  We could be one of the friends – adapting to the challenge of getting their friend in front of Jesus. Or we could be part of the crowd – amazed at the sight of the man coming through the roof and then even more amazed as he walks out healed. We could be one of the scribes – protecting the law and tradition. Or we could be the homeowner wondering: what just happened to my house?!

But today I would like you to first imagine yourself as the one who was paralyzed on the stretcher. We don’t know much him except that he was helpless.  He may have heard about Jesus and his healing power. He might have wanted to go see Jesus. But he clearly couldn’t get there on his own. He was completely dependent upon his friends to lift him, to carry him, to adapt and find a way to put him in front of Jesus  – even though it meant carrying him up to the top of the house and then digging through the roof and lowering him down to Jesus.

The way that the paralyzed man’s friends brought him to Jesus was surprising and a bit unconventional but Jesus saw it as an act of faith – it was their faith that carried him to Jesus and it was their faith that Jesus commended.   

The paralyzed man was completely dependent upon others to get him to Jesus. The way that his friends did this is really unusual - but I wonder – haven’t we all depended upon the faith of someone else?  

I’m guessing that you can think of ways in which other people have carried you when you were in need. Maybe for some of you, like for me, it was the faith of your parents and grandparents that brought you to faith and literally carried you to the font to be baptized.  For others, maybe it was a neighbor who brought you to Sunday school, or a spouse who started going to church, or someone else who introduced you to Jesus.

As Lutherans, we believe that we all receive the gift of God’s love and grace and are made children of God in baptism not by our own doing – but as the free gift of God. As Martin Luther says in the small catechism,  it is the Holy Spirit who calls, gathers and enlightens us and keeps us in the true faith. However, the Holy Spirit doesn’t work alone but engages and works through people of faith as the body of Christ to do God’s work in the world.

As people of faith, we depend upon others to encourage, sustain and help us grow in faith.  When you were young, it might have been your Sunday school teacher or a camp counselor who taught you to trust in the word of God.  Later, perhaps a Bible study group, choir or a prayer partner nurtured your faith. Or maybe other people in the congregation inspired and encouraged you either by their example or perhaps because of the way they reached out with prayer and care in ordinary ways or in a time of need.

I know that I have been the recipient of ordinary care and prayer from people of faith who, especially during this pandemic, but also throughout my life, have sent a card or spoken a word of encouragement or care. In addition, I also know that I have been dependent upon the faith of others when I was in great need and unable to help myself.

I will never forget the feeling of helplessness that I experienced after being in a car accident and not even being able to tell the nurse that I wanted a drink of water.  I was flat on my back – and also suffering from a head injury. Like the paralyzed man, I could do nothing for myself – but like his friends, my family didn’t give up. They took me out of the hospital and away from the doctors that were ready to put me in a care center and throw away the key. Instead, they brought me to another hospital and another doctor who had some other ideas. Towards the end of my month-long stay in that hospital, this doctor came into my room and asked me if I had any questions. I had tons but could only say to him, “Am I going to be ok?”  He answered, “Yes, because you have faith.” And then he left.  I held onto that prognosis and trusted in that promise. But as I look back, I realize that it is not only because I had faith but also because my family had faith and he did too. It turns out that he was a missionary doctor – and knew quite a bit not only about medicine but also about faith. Faith makes a difference.

Sometimes I have been – and you have been -- the one who, like the paralyzed man -  is in need and has been lifted and carried to Christ Jesus – sometimes literally and at other times in prayer. And sometimes the Holy Spirit calls upon me and you to do God’s work in the world around us. For example, on my block, one of my neighbors has just been diagnosed with cancer. Another neighbor immediately organized a meal-train to help care for their daily needs.

Brothers and sisters – friends in Christ –  Our faith – YOUR faith -- makes a difference not only for you – but also for your family, your friends, your neighbors and everyone else whose life you touch.  Your faith, active in your life, is the vehicle God’s YES to be proclaimed.

This has never been more evident than in this pandemic time in which so much of our ordinary life has been different.  I have noticed the many ways that you, people of Faith-Lilac Way, and friends and neighbors have responded in faith to care for others.  Some of you have been making phone calls to those who have been isolated in care centers. Others of you have sent notes. All of you have been praying. These are just a few of the ways that I know that you reach out and care for one another – and the community.

Brothers and sisters, friends in Christ, your faith makes a difference to you and to the world around you.  May you be blessed with the faith and courage to both carry others and their cares to Jesus and the grace to receive the care and kindness of others in Jesus name.  Amen.

Hope Is a Verb

In the traditional society in which the first disciples lived, it would have been extraordinary for grown men like Simon, Andrew, James, and John to desert their occupations and obligations to follow this man named Jesus. We are right to wonder what in the world would possess these fishermen to up and leave their nets and families in the lurch? May I suggest that this could only have been the work of the Holy Spirit – a burning hope in their hearts that God was up to something amazing in this man named Jesus, right then and there.

As Christians, we are a people of hope against all hope (cf., Romans 4:18). We believe in the inbreaking of God in the life, death, and resurrection of our Savior, and so we hope against all hope that God is alive and working in our world in and through Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit. We hope that the coming of God’s kingdom of mercy, compassion, and justice for all is not only possible, but that it is real, palpable, and near. Even as we look out upon a despairing world, we hope, do we not?

In the words of pastor, poet, and artist Jan Richardson, we hope nonetheless. We hope despite. We hope regardless. We hope still.[1]     

I am not going to sugarcoat it. It has been one difficult year to actively hope. And so, we pray to hold on to hope. And we pick up our Bible, and amazingly, our Psalmist today speaks directly into this very moment. He sings: God alone is my rock and my salvation. O people, trust in God at all times; pour out your heart. For God alone I wait, for my hope is from God (from Psalm 62: 5-8).    

I imagine the Pslamist’s steadfast hope to be the same hope the first disciples felt in their hearts as they leapt forward into unknown territory with Jesus to create something newk in the world. For God alone they must have been waiting. For God alone fueled their hope. For God, in that very moment, spoke directly to them through Jesus. The time was near. The time was now. Their hope was in motion.

Sometimes when we talk about hope it comes off as a comforting platitude or naive sense of optimism. This is not the hope I’m talking about. I’m talking about an active hope that believes that the kingdom of God is near and now, and looks and listens to move and turn and change with a God who breaks into the world.

Jan Richardson’s poetic voice calls it a hope that draws us past our limits; a hope that defies expectations; a hope that questions what we have known in the past; a hope that calls us into new life and blesses those to come.[2]

I call it a hope that gets up and leaves fishing nets behind and moves somewhere new. I call it a hope that says old ways of being—and old patterns of the heart—no longer suffice. As Jesus himself proclaimed, “the time is now, God is near” (Mark 1:15), it’s time to walk with me.

In my own life, I am reminded of the time when I knew it was time to move into a new vocation. I was a state budget official sitting in a tense meeting with political staff who were calling on me to help shape the dismantling a major social safety net program that served hundreds of thousands of marginalized people in the state. See, this was my job at the time: to provide objective analysis and information to support policymakers. All at once, in the middle of this awful meeting, I knew I was done with this job that frequently left me wanting to say more. I felt a hope rise within me to use my words to advocate on behalf of those on the margins. I had no idea where this hope would eventually lead me or my family, but the Spirit called. It was time to change my heart and my priorities, and yes, leave some things that had been important to me.

That’s the hard part about having an active hope in Christ: at times, you know the direction to take but seldom know exactly where you are going. Imagine Simon, Andrew, James, and John on their way to Capernaum with Jesus that day calling out to him, “Okay Jesus, we are with you, now…but where are you taking us?”

What might millions of healthcare workers in the world be saying right now? See, the Spirit called and said the time was near. They were needed. So many left concerns for their own safety, regular schedules, and even their own families behind to live in service to others. These “saints next door” – as Pope Francis has called them – have risked their lives and worked tirelessly for so many months, with no map and no end in sight, a tangible example to the rest of us of active hope in the heart of Christ.

We look for hope on the move in our churches, too. In the wake of the killing of George Floyd, the Spirit called upon congregations in Minneapolis and said the time is near. The dominion of God is upon us. Open your doors. Set up makeshift emergency centers and take care of wounded bodies. Feed the hungry and give rest to the weary. Wage peace. Remake yourself, church, in Christ’s image. 

And now, as we look upon the inauguration and the early first days of a new president and administration, we know that our country remains as bitterly divided, angry, and beset by racism as it has ever been. We cannot unsee those images of rioting and violence at the US Capitol on January 6th, and we wonder where followers of Christ are called to be right now.

Where are you in all of this, dear Congregation? Do you hope, still? Where have you ceased to hope? How can we pray for one another better, that our hope would be fed, and that we would know when it is time to move with Jesus, as individuals and as a community of faith.

Brothers and sisters in Christ, may you be blessed with hope and may we walk together with courage in the name of the One who sustains us and comes to life within us.

Amen.       

[1] An adaptation of a portion of Jan Richardson’s poem “Rough Translations”, from a collection of poems called Circle of Grace.

[2] An adaptation of another portion of Jan Richardson’s poem “Rough Translations”, from a collection of poems called Circle of Grace.

A Full House – John 1:1-18

On this, the second Sunday after Christmas Day, we are treated to another story of Christ’s birth. This birth story that begins the Gospel of John contains no references to the manger, nor shepherds, nor singing angels, nor magi searching for the baby Jesus.

Rather, this beginning is a cosmic birth story if you will. It is the story of how Christ, the Word, existed from the very beginning of time with God, partnered with God in all of creation, and came to earth, in flesh and in blood. What is more, John’s prologue tells us that you and I only know how to see God because of the birth of Christ into the world (John 1:18). This kind of Christmas story is vast, mystical, and mind-blowing, indeed.       

When I try to imagine it, I find the eagle, a symbol for the writer of the Gospel of John, so very helpful. Picture an eagle, soaring high among the heavens, looking straight at the sun, and then almost like a thunderbolt, diving down to the ground. To me, this is a worthy image of Christ too, who from the beginning and now and forever, flies in these circles of creative relationship with God and who is also God, and who makes a sudden nose dive to come to us as child, just so that we could know grace and love God all the better.

Our reading today tells us that “… the Word became flesh and lived among us…” (John 1:14, NRSV). One of my favorite translations of this verse comes from Eugene Peterson, the author of the Message Bible, when he writes “the Word became flesh and blood and moved into the neighborhood…” (John 1:14, The Message). See, our God does not separate Godself from humanity, but in Christ, takes up residence and dwells wherever we may be.

I wonder if during this time of pandemic you feel you have room for another houseguest. I don’t know about you, but my house is feeling pretty full already.

Truth be told, all of this seemingly unending family time has a way of reminding me of my first tenuous days and months of motherhood. My husband Dave and I were older parents, but that doesn’t mean we knew what we were doing. In fact, we were petrified when the doctor told us we were cleared to bring our son Jacob home from the hospital. Where is the instruction packet, we wondered?

Once home, we got to know our baby better each day: when he wanted to eat; how he struggled to latch; how bouncing him on a yoga ball was the only thing that would put him back to sleep in the middle of the night, and that one MUST NOT stop. Jacob quickly learned that he was the light of my life, but also that I cried easily when sleep-deprived (which was often).

Oh yes, there were tears, spit-up stained shirts, dirty diapers overflowing in the trash can, and days and nights that seemed to go on forever. Still, there was joy and laughter in our little family house of three like never before. It was a holy time when Jacob came into our lives. The presence of Christ within us and through us and at the center of this happy, messy, sleep-deprived home was palpable. I confess we did not make it to church much in those early weeks, but everything we did seemed sacred. And Christ was in our home.

This is the wondrous truth underlying this mystical story of the Word in the Gospel of John. For somehow, in Christ, God knits together earth, ocean, sky, and all of creation with you and me in all of our utter humanness; in our joys and our sorrows; in our shining moments and in our foibles; in our Sunday best, and in our bathrobes sipping lukewarm coffee on the couch.

Because of the grace of Christ living in and among us, your home may be a sacred temple. Your glimpse of red cardinal in the bleak midwinter may be a burning bush.[1] Your daily walk to keep your sanity may be a wilderness wandering all of your own where you encounter God in unexpected ways. Hearing the babbling of a grandchild may be the song of an angel praising God.

When we glimpse this stunning unity of all things because of Christ, everything about our world is made new. We see that everything in the cosmos, from the highest of heavens to the minutiae of yet another endless day under the same roof is held together through the fullness of Christ’s grace upon grace. In the words of Father Richard Rohr, “it’s a Christ-soaked world”, a world where our body has spirit, and spirit has body. “In this world, everything is sacred; and the word ‘real’ takes on new meaning.”[2]

God becomes ‘real’ in our world, only through this lens of Christ who walked on the earth as a mortal at a given time and place, but who walks in and among us still. As our scripture says, “No one has ever seen God. It is God the only Son, who is close to the Father’s heart, who has made him known” (John 1:18).

So this week I invite you, wherever you may be, to look for Christ taking up residence within your home and within you:

·         Perhaps…in signs of new life or new creation;

·         In how you love your life, or how you create or take care of your home;

·         In how you care for your own health, and how you care for your family or friends, neighbors;

·         In what you see when you look into the face of another, perhaps one who is different from you;

·         In the beauty and diversity of the world around us; and

·         In all the things,

·         Christ is there.

Beloved children of God, as we turn the corner on 2020 and enter this new year, we do so facing our future together. Even as we wait and pray to be able to assemble in the sanctuary for worship, to hear scripture, to be reminded of our baptism, to receive Christ in the bread and the wine, and to experience again all of these gifts from God; we are no less united than we were ten months ago when the pandemic began.   

For it is Christ who unites us. This Christ who existed from the very beginning of time; who was born and lived, flesh and blood, among us; and who lives still, binding us and all of creation together, with grace upon grace, even when we are masked and physically distanced.

Take heart, and take hope, dear ones. Christ has come. Emmanuel, God with Us, is here. And in all places. And in all things. And right where you are.

[1] Inspired by lyrics from Peter Mayer’s song, “Everything is Holy Now”.

[2] From Richard Rohr’s Daily Meditation, December 28, 2020, “The Politics of Prayer.” Accessed at: https://cac.org/category/daily-meditations/.

First Sunday of Christmas

They weren’t young anymore, Simeon and Anna. Simeon was ready to die and Anna was both old and a widow. But there they were – in the temple – at the end of the birth story recorded in the Gospel of Luke. Actually, Anna and Simeon join a rather surprising group of people from the first two chapters of Luke – the first to witness the birth of Jesus. There’s silent Zechariah and barren Elizabeth, Mary and Joseph, shepherds from the fields, and now, Simeon and Anna. They are the aged, the widowed, the barren, the marginalized. It’s an inclusive bunch – in gender, social standing, and religious observance. And, most surprising of all, it’s a newborn baby who overwhelms them with joy – bringing the hope of God’s salvation. Think about those shepherds. I’d be pretty scared – following an angel’s command to go meet the “Saviour, Christ the Lord.” But, a baby – meeting a baby wouldn’t be so scary. Now, Mary and Joseph bring their newborn to the temple. No doubt, they thought the shepherds’ visit in Bethlehem was surprising. Meeting Simeon and Anna will cause even greater wonderment. For, these aged truth-tellers will boldly announce that through this child, God’s salvation is being made known to all people.

In Luke, those who receive the good news of Jesus – and those who proclaim it - are a beautifully varied bunch. And so are we. It’s hard to imagine the vast mix of people who are listening to this sermon today. We are 145 different congregations in the Minneapolis Area Synod, worshiping in 8 different languages. Though not all congregations will use this service – and I’m pretty sure that not every congregational member will tune in – our worship community will be diverse in age, class, gender, race, sexual orientation, talents, passions, faith, doubt, hope and despair. And, that is why the Christmas message is so unbelievably powerful. The gospel comes to all people; God’s salvation is for all. Most of us are worshiping today from our living rooms – watching the service on a screen. Sadly, most of us worshipped from home on Christmas Eve. No tree-lit sanctuary, no room filled to the brim with people holding candles and singing silent night. And yet, the first announcement of Jesus’ birth wasn’t made in the temple – not in a sanctuary of any kind. It was proclaimed in the fields where shepherds – likely from the bottom rung of the social ladder – were the first to hear the good news. What is more, in the words of Craig Satterlee, the shepherds were not just outsiders. He writes: Spend enough time in the field, shunned by decent and religious folk, disappointed by God, or overwhelmed by grief, and we stop caring that we are outsiders.

We give up trying to get inside religion, or even give up on God, and just get on with life. But God does not give up on us. God sends angels to people who have given up on God. 2020 may have felt like a year in the wilderness – so many unknowns, so much waiting, cut off from physical touch. Only you know how this has affected your faith. But know this, you are not alone if it has. And, more importantly, know this as well: Even if you have given up on God, God has not given up on you. The power of Christmas is the inbreaking of God’s Grace into every corner of this world. Whether we are strong or weak, recognized or forgotten, fervent in faith or spiritually starving, God brings good news to us right there where we are. But there’s more. The Christmas story is also filled with the most unlikely prophets and witnesses – called and empowered by God’s Spirit: outcast shepherds talking about all they’d heard and seen, an unmarried young woman singing a Magnificat of good news to the poor and hungry, blessing for the sorrowful and lowly. So, today, as you sit in your home, know this: God can meet you there with good news. And God can use you as a witness to God’s love. Already in the first two chapters of the gospel, Luke makes it very clear that God’s Spirit empowers witnesses from among the poor, the young, the old, the powerless.

And this will become even clearer in Luke’s second volume – the Acts of the Apostles – where the Spirit is poured out on all flesh – the young who see visions and the old who dream dreams. “If the spirit of God continues to work in every time, and if the spirit’s chosen instrument is the human body, then witnesses and prophets are among us here, right now.” (Luke Timothy Johnson) And don’t be surprised if that witness is you. Yes you, sitting on your couch in your pajamas, not quite sure if your faith is a glowing candle or a dimly burning wick. It’s the Spirit that calls and empowers. And, though the pandemic greatly limits the movement of our human bodies – “don’t go there; don’t touch that’ – we can still use our hands to write a letter to a lonely friend, use our voice to call our legislator appealing for unemployment benefits; we can use our fingers to scroll through the ELCA website and contribute to the hunger appeal, or show our beautiful faces on a congregational zoom call - for Bible study or that committee working on racial justice. God can use us – each of us – as God’s hands in the world. In addition to 2020 being the year of the pandemic, it also marked the 50th anniversary of our church’s decision to ordain of women. My first call – 38 years ago – was to Zion Lutheran in Iowa City. Back then, the Iowa Bishop gathered all the state’s female pastors together once a year for support and encouragement. The first years we all could’ve fit in a phone booth.

Though small, it was an amazing gathering– April Larson who went on to become the first female bishop; Connie Kleingartner, who became one of the first female seminary professors. I especially remember one conversation we shared during a retreat. One of the more soft-spoken women finally said, “I just look forward to the day when the church doesn’t see me as a problem. I am a gift to the church.” Those early days, we were often seen as problems – problems for bishops who couldn’t help us find calls; problems because we didn’t always fit the mold of what pastoral authority had always looked like. “I am a gift,” my colleague said. “A gift to the church.” You are a gift, dear friends in Christ. Out of love, God brings to you good news of great joy in Jesus. And, with Simeon and Anna, with shepherds and a young mother called Mary, God sends your forth in love by the power of the Holy Spirit. Oh, I wish I had a crystal ball and could tell you what the year ahead will bring; I wish I could predict when there will be vaccines for everyone; I wish I could tell you when herd immunity will make it ok for your grandkids spend the night; ok to open your restaurant or small business, ok for you gather with your high school friends at a coffee shop; ok to hug all your siblings in Christ at worship. We will continue in the wilderness of uncertainty for a while. And, you may be tempted to give up. But, God doesn’t give up on you. God is here with us – to bring good news again and again and again. And, God is here with us – anointing us with Spirit’s power that we might – again and again – share God’s love with others. Amen.

Tonight We Sing: Glory to God!

Merry Christmas!

I know for some people, Christmas doesn’t seem very “merry” this year. But even if it doesn’t feel “merry,” it’s still Christmas. Christ has come.

We heard the prophecy from Isaiah and we heard the angel proclaim to the shepherds and to us: “Do not be afraid; for see--I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord.”

This is Good News. And it was such good news that the angels in heaven could not contain themselves. Their song rang out: “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!"  

It was an ordinary night in a world that was not at peace. The territory was occupied. There were many challenges in the world.  And yet, the angels brought a message of hope, peace and joy for all people.

The angels didn’t show up at the palace. They had no sanctuary in which to sit. Instead… they came to the fields to the shepherds who were ordinary people doing low wage jobs with bad hours and low pay. It was to these simple folks -- not the first ones on anyone’s guest list-- to whom the angels sang. And after the shepherds received the news, they left their sheep behind and went to see the baby, the Christ child.. and when they left – what did they do? They glorified and praised God, lifting their voices with joyful shouts and songs.

You know this story. It is the same story that we hear every Christmas Eve. And yet each year, we are invited to hear it anew. You, like the shepherds are invited to the manger, to see the Christ child. For Jesus Christ, the Messiah, the Lord, came not only for shepherds on the hillside of Bethlehem, but came for all people - including you and me.

The challenges of the world were not solved that night. Caesar still ruled the land. People were still hurting then and the world is still hurting now. But… on that night, Christ came into our world to save us and to redeem us. Jesus came as savior, messiah and as Emmanuel – God with us.  And God is not done. 

Despite knowing this, it is easy to get distracted by the world around us. Some years it is the Christmas glitter, parties and activities… but not this year. This year the challenges of the virus and the limitations it brings – and the division in our country -- threaten to overshadow our joy.

It turns out that there was also plenty of division and distraction at the time of Jesus’ birth. But despite all of the challenges then and now, the angels proclaim: “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!"  And who would it be that God favors? Well… since the angel proclaimed that Jesus was the savior for all people, that means that the one whom God favors would be you… and your neighbor…including the lonely, the poor, the unemployed, the migrant, the refugee, those who sleep on hillsides and those who sleep under bridges and all those who call Jesus Lord.  Christ has come for one and for all. This is good news.  

And that is why, tonight, we sing. We sing – sometimes with tears in our eyes, remembering the ones who are ill and those who have been lost to us this year and in prior years… those grandparents, mothers, fathers, cousins, sisters, brothers, and children too. We remember each one of them who have been beloved to us. Yet even when our hearts are broken, still we sing.

We sing because we have faith to believe, to carry on, to endure – and yes, even dare to dream. Just as slaves once sang Gospel songs of freedom that proclaimed a future of promise even in the midst of slavery, so we sing the story of Jesus birth, proclaiming the glory of God that has come into a world that is still hurting and in need of healing. 

We sing the angel’s song and the message of hope and joy because we know that the story is not over. God is still at work in our world.  And we, people of God, are called to proclaim in word and in song the message of God’s incredible gift – the gift of Jesus, our savior and Lord. We are called to sing hope and healing into a hurting world. We are called to sing of joy and peace to a world that lives in fear and conflict. We are called to sing and to shout and to proclaim that Jesus Christ is our savior and Lord and is Emmanuel, God with us.  The world needs to hear this message.  

In the Charlie Brown Christmas program, Charlie Brown seeks to find the meaning of Christmas. He doesn’t find it in the glittery metal Christmas trees or in trying – unsuccessfully -- to direct a Christmas play or even in decorating his little tree. If you remember the story, his Christmas tree collapses with a single bulb.  Feeling like a loser, he finally asks: Does anyone know what Christmas really means?

Linus does.   He reminds Charlie Brown – and us – that the real Christmas story is the one that we just read, the story of Jesus’ birth. And, as Charlie Brown’s friends start to help decorate his little tree – giving it a little love and support – so we too are called to help our neighbor by sharing both acts of kindness and the message of the Good News of Jesus’ birth.

Brothers and sisters, friends in Christ, tonight, this holy night of Christmas Eve, I invite you… no I challenge you…to join me in singing the angel’s song and proclaiming God’s good news of Jesus’ birth. Be safe – of course – but then…let us sing – or shout –  glory and praise to God.  Sing out loud and strong. Don’t worry about whether you sing off key. Sing with hope and with gusto.  For we were made for such a time as this. As God’s children, we are called to proclaim the Good News to people who are weary, to friends who are anxious and afraid, to those who need to hear the message that God – Emmanuel -- is with us still and will never leave us. So, sing out the Good news. For tonight… dear friends… we are celebrating Jesus’ birth. Sing it loud, sing it strong: Sing Glory to Jesus, the New born king. Amen.

We Can Do Hard Things

If I were to write a letter to God this morning, it might go something like this. Dear God, due to the pandemic, I’m pretty sure I understand the meaning of Advent this year…much better than I used to. So now that I have this waiting, watching, and wondering thing down, when can things go back to normal? Let me know as soon as possible, okay?

It would be great to know what lies on the other side of pandemic and exactly when it will end, but that is not how waiting in God’s time works, is it?

That’s why, today, when we think we cannot possibly wait any longer, we need to hear the story about how God comes to find Mary. It’s a story about how God knows Mary – through, and through and through – and chooses her to be the mother of Jesus. We are reminded that no matter who we are and where we are and yes, even in the midst of a pandemic, God comes to find you and me too – seeking us, choosing us, inviting us to say “yes” to new life.    

You see, unlike so many other important figures in the Bible, Mary is introduced in our text today with little fanfare. She has no grand lineage of ancestors to lay before us. She was simply a young girl, a teenager betrothed to a carpenter, living in a rural village called Nazareth. To the world at that time, you might say that she was ‘a nobody’…a nobody living in an unimportant place. And yet the Spirit of God, in the form of an angel, comes to find her, for God has great news. She is favored and will conceive in her womb and bear a holy child, the Son of God.  

Just imagine, for a moment, Mary’s utter surprise – a surprise that quickly turns into distress and agitation. Mary is emotional, and we can surely understand why she cries out, “How can this be?” “How can this be?” Have you ever thought you might be hearing from God, or feel nudged by the Spirit in a certain way, only to wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat saying “No, not me!” This message could not be for me! You might say, “I’m not worthy of doing this; I’m not capable of doing this; I’m too broken to do this; It’s simply not possible.”

But God knows your heart and sees things in you that the world may not see, just like God knows Mary’s heart, through and through and through. God sees Mary’s inner feminine strength, abundant faith, and the beautiful song she has on her lips about the coming of God’s kingdom. God knows that Mary can do really hard things to bear love into the world. So can you. And so can I.   

It’s funny how I see Mary with new eyes now that I am a mother. Growing up at St. Jude of the Lake Catholic Church in Mahtomedi, I always noticed the statue of Mary on the left side of our sanctuary, and she reminded me that women were important in Jesus’ life and important to God. Pictured in traditional blue and white, she looked elegant, gentle, and meek, and yet I have to admit that what I see in Mary now is her inner strength and her grit -- not a “model female” per se, but a model “disciple of Christ”.[1]

See in opening herself up for this blessing, for this love, for the coming of Christ, Mary would have to do really hard things. I’m astounded by her courage, to say “here am I, let it be with me” with no roadmap, no real answers, no detailed plans on what exactly was to come.

She would face stigma as an unwed pregnant mother, and risk losing Joseph all together. The child that she would so lovingly nurture in her womb would be despised and tortured by the world, so much so that she would have to witness her own son’s death on the cross. The prophet Simeon would warn her that as the mother of Jesus, a sword would pierce her soul. (Luke 2: 34-35). Indeed, it did. But, as Jesus himself would say about Mary, “my mother [is one] who [hears] the word of God and [does] it” (Luke 8:21).

In preparing for this sermon, I found myself thinking about what the hearing and doing of discipleship looks like, in real life. I happened upon a picture of a stained-glass window that I had taken on my trip to Israel almost two years ago, at the Church of the Annunciation. This is the church in Nazareth that, according to Catholic tradition, sits on top of the house where Mary lived and where the angel Gabriel appeared to her.

On the stained-glass window, the Angel leans towards Mary, lovingly, knowingly, with two outstretched arms. What is interesting to me is that Mary leans into the Angel too, her right hand cupped behind her ear, as if she is trying to listen closely to what the Angel is saying. But Mary’s left hand gives her emotions away. See, it is pressed down on her heart. She is overwhelmed with both the radiance of the blessing bestowed upon her and also aware that saying yes to God will come with great risk.

And so it is for us when we answer a call from God. A mix of radiance, of blessing, but also uncertainty and fear.

I invite you, this last week in Advent, to make room for Mary’s story and to pause think about your own stories, those the times in your life when you have heard God calling your name and leading you to new life. How did you recognize God’s call? How difficult was it at the time to say yes? What unexpected blessings met you? What hardships did you face along the way? How did your faith help you to find the strength to do hard things?   

This week, we wait for the miracle of Christmas, and yet we know that this Christmas won’t look familiar to any of us.

So may we, ordinary people though we may be, know that we are loved by God through and through and through, and that we too have been chosen. And when the Spirit comes to find us, as she has and as she will, may we lean in and listen closely. For hear this good news: the love of Christ has come into the world, is coming into the world, and waits to be born again and again through you and me.

Being at the precipice of this kind of love made flesh is both wondrous and frightening at times. But like Mary, we can do hard things for love. For nothing will be impossible with God. (Luke 1:37)

Let it be with you and me. Amen.

[1] Theologian Beverly Roberts Gaventa discusses the difference between seeing Mary as ‘a model female’ and seeing Mary as ‘a model disciple’ in her book Mary: Glimpses of the Mother of Jesus (Fortress, 1999), pp. 49-78.

God Is Like

A Sunday school teacher once asked a little child, “What are you drawing?” The answer came quickly, “God.”

“But, the teacher said, “no one knows what God looks like.”

“Well”… replied the child, “They will when I’m done!”

What do you think that God looks like? What image or images come to mind? In these past weeks, I’ve been exploring Biblical images for God including: Christ as King and as the neighbor in need, God as a potter, and the Lord as our shepherd. But these are just a few of the images for God in the Bible.

In today’s scripture from Isaiah, God is described as one who “has clothed me with garments of salvation and arrayed me in a robe of his righteousness.”  What does a garment of salvation and a robe of righteousness look like? I don’t know. But then Isaiah describes a scene we do know and invites us to imagine God as one who clothes us with our very best, adorning us like a bride and bridegroom dressing for their wedding. Like the best man checking the tie of the groom and the bridesmaids helping the bride with her dress - God wants to make us our very best.

The clothing image continues in the New Testament. Paul declares that in baptism we have been “clothed with Christ” Galatians 3:27and Romans 13:14 In her book, Wearing God, Lauren Winner takes a closer look at what that could mean, to be clothed in Christ.  She imagines wearing God not only as a jewel or as a jacket -  something that is external or that simply accessorizes and enhances her appearance but also as long underwear hugging close against your skin.  She wonders, what does it mean to wear Christ so close that we can feel God pressing in on us?  She also reflects on what how we act, depending upon what we wear. She says, “I feel different when I am wearing different clothes. I act different. I let my Talbots suits and my vintage shirts remake me in their image. I want to let Jesus do the same.” 1

Lauren Winner’s reflections made me wonder: how do we “wear Christ” and let Jesus remake us in his image?

Sometimes being clothed with Christ - wearing Christ -- can be uncomfortable and even exhausting.  It was for a night nurse. Every night she puts on Christ when she puts on her PPE. This was the job that she had trained to do, and yet she told her pastor that her work on the covid19 floor was like ‘walking into fire every single night.’  

For example, the other night “she had a 33 year old in her care.  Suddenly he spiked a fever of 104. Alone in the room with him, she immediately began to pack him in ice to bring his fever down.  Only there was not that much ice in the room so she called out for more and while she waited, she started soaking paper towels in water and using those instead.

She shouted to him as she worked, “All you have to do is keep breathing! I’ll do the rest!”

He kept breathing – even though it hurt – and the fever came down. When she ended her shift, he had made it through the night. But she was exhausted – still. She and her colleagues had been doing this day after day, night after night. On top of the hard work, she suffered the emotional burden of feeling like the ‘only one’ present to encourage, to hold, to pray. 2

Except of course, she’s not alone. She put on Christ with her PPE – and so brought Christ – and the rest of us – as Christ’s body -- with her.  And while it’s true that the infectious nature of the coronavirus prevents us – and even more importantly the friends and family of this young man and the pastor of this nurse from being able to be physically present to get more ice or to hold his hand, it doesn’t keep out Christ.

Nor does it keep them or any of us, as Christ’s body, from praying.  Our heartfelt prayers go out not only for him and people like him – whose job is to keep breathing… but also for her and nurses and medical personnel like her who can easily get overwhelmed, exhausted and discouraged and feel as if they are walking into fire every night and that they are alone and responsible for doing “all the rest.”

In the light of this challenge, praying from a distance doesn’t always feel like enough. But, as the body of Christ, our heart-felt prayers mean and do more than we can imagine.  For as we put on Christ, and become the body of Christ, and we pray for her – and all those like her – we ask and we trust that Christ will not only be there but will also be the one that does “all the rest.”

In Jesus’ first sermon, he reads our Isaiah scripture and in addition to proclaiming Good News to the oppressed and freedom for captives, he proclaims that he came “to bind up the brokenhearted.” And he does.

This is another image of who God is – the one who binds up the broken hearted. That includes this overwhelmed nurse and the young man and his family and friends and all those whose hearts are breaking because of the challenges and the consequential limitations we face because of this virus. 

And, dear friends, it includes you and me too. When your heart is breaking, God’s word for you is to “just keep breathing and let God do the rest.”  For Christ has come to bind up the broken-hearted and to proclaim Good News to all who feel oppressed and freedom for all who feel captive. 

Christ has come as a healer binding up our wounds, as one who frees us and as one who proclaims Good News.  God comes in unexpected ways, dressing us with righteousness and who even clothes us with Christ. These are just a few of the Biblical images for God. So..  what do you think God looks like? The teacher didn’t say what the child drew. But the Bible gives us lots of images of what God is like and of what God does for us to ponder and explore. No one image can contain God. But, hopefully by expanding the Biblical images that we explore, we can not only see God in new ways but also be encouraged and encourage others that God is still at work bringing us hope and joy in new and surprising ways. Thanks be to God!

Give to God the things that are God’s.

Give to God the things that are God’s. That part of Jesus’ answer has been running through my mind this past week. So…what exactly are we to give?  In the Old Testament, the standard answer was the tithe – 10 percent. But Jesus isn’t parsing out how much of your assets to give to Caesar and how much to give to God. Instead he says, “Give to the emperor what belongs to the emperor”. And then says: “give to God what belongs to God”.

So this is what I’ve been thinking about…because, doesn’t everything belong to God?  

Some people – like St. Francis – interpreted that quite literally. When his father heard Francis was going into the ministry, he was furious and confronted him in the town square.  He thought his son owed him something. After all, hadn’t he supplied him with beautiful rich clothing and money to spend? Francis agreed. All of his clothes and money did come from his father. So…right in the middle of the town square, he took off all his clothes and gave them and all the money that he had back to his father. Then, free of possessions and obligation to his earthly father, he proclaimed, “I belong to God, my Heavenly Father.”

It was certainly a dramatic way to proclaim his allegiance to God. But you don’t have to strip naked in the town square in order to proclaim: “I belong to God.”  For Jesus has claimed you at your baptism as a child of God; you belong. As Paul writes and we proclaim, “You belong to Christ and Christ belongs to God.”  You belong to God.

The question is: how you live into this gift of belonging? Or in the words of poet Mary Oliver, “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”  

God has entrusted the whole world to us.  And there are days – such as this past week when the trees were changing and the air was “just right” and the sun shone  - that I simply want to bask in the beauty of God’s creation. I rode my bike on paths strewn with leaves of red and gold and saw eagles soar and heard birds sing and gave thanks to God. The world was beautiful. On those days – days in which I shut off all news outlets and just focus on God’s creation – I praise God for God’s wonderful gift of creation. I can echo God’s assessment of creation: it is good.

But then I come home, and read the news and it is harder for me to rejoice when I hear and read about the nastiness and outright cruelty of the way people act and speak and treat one another. It’s easy to see the beauty of creation in the trees and the wild creatures and even in the neighborhood pets. If I’m honest, it’s harder to see each person as a part of God’s good creation. But…in the story of creation, God proclaims, “Let us make human beings in our own image.”  And God did, making humans, male and female, in God’s own likeness. And again, God says, “It is good.”

Each person is made in God’s image. And, God saw all that he had made, and it was very good.Gen 1:31 So then… when you look at another person… regardless of age, or the color of their skin, their sex or gender, their bank account, or the clothes they wear, the accent of their voice, or where they were born  – every human being… was made in the image of God.

Even if it’s Caesar. Caesar – the egotistical, power-hungry emperor who had the words “Son of God” imprinted by his face on the coin shown to Jesus. Using it felt idolatrous to faithful followers. But Caesar was feared – and ruthless when disobeyed. Yet, even Caesar was made in God’s image. And so are those people who drive me crazy. Created in God’s image… every one of them.

And so are you – and the people who drive you crazy. You and I – and all human beings -- are created in God’s image. So… before you send that tweet or share that incendiary facebook post – remember whose image you reflect. Speak the truth – but do so in love.

For not only are you created in God’s image, but you are claimed by Christ, in your baptism, as a child of God. You are fed and nourished by God’s word.  You belong to God. And, so do I – and all of our creative and expressive talents and skills. Remember - everything belongs to God.

Since I know in my head that everything belongs to God why do I want to hold on so tightly to “my” money, “my” work, “my” power, “my” stuff?  Why do I – maybe you too? – want so much to be in control?

I wonder if, as Americans, we are so focused on the importance of freedom, of independence, and the myth of making our own way, that we forget, as Christians… that Jesus taught us that power is made perfect in weakness and that love conquers everything.

Friends in Christ, it’s time to surrender. Surrender? Yes… I just said, “surrender.” I know that I - maybe you too? – don’t really want to surrender anything. I grew up thinking of surrendering as a sign of weakness, failure, inadequacy. Surrender means that you lose, right? But, perhaps… surrendering is not what you think or fear.

Following Jesus’ words of wisdom, let us give to God, even surrender to God, the things that are God’s including your life, your ambitions, all the stuff you like to claim as your own – as well as  your hopes and dreams.  After all, after you have surrendered to the grace of God, the pressure is off. It’s not about you anymore. It’s about God working though you to not only bless you but also all those around you, all those you touch. It is God using the gifts that God gave you to proclaim God’s good news of love and mercy. It is God working in you to bring about the kingdom of God.   

Go ahead – pay your fair share of taxes. Jesus said, “Give to the emperor what belongs to the emperor.” But give to God all that is God’s – including your whole self and God will bless you and make you whole. Thanks be to God. Amen.

Rejoice In the Lord

I believe these last days of summer-like weather should be savored – so when I met with two women for a pastoral care meeting, we gathered outside – and one of the women brought her dog. We had a lovely conversation and the dog, a big yellow lab, sat quietly at her feet… until, without warning, a white squirrel dashed right by his nose.  That lab was chasing the squirrel up the tree in an instant – and in the process almost yanked the poor woman’s arm out of its socket. Such a little squirrel – yet he caused a big disruption.

Sometimes these days, I feel like that yellow lab – distracted by the seemingly everchanging news about the coronavirus and all of the other “bad news” that comes our way that I feel as easily distracted as the dog was by the squirrel.

On other days I resonate with a question raised by a friend of mine who ased, “Have you “hit the wall” yet?”  Quoting Aisha Ahmad, a scholar who focuses on disasters says, “that’s normal…” 1 “I always hit this wall six months into fieldwork in a disaster zone.” But she also says, “Do not despair: the six-month wall is harsh, but it is also temporary…” and there are some things that you can do to make it better.

One of the things that you can do is start a new faith practice. It could be a walk in your neighborhood – noticing all of the gifts of creation. It could be a new prayer practice. Or you could turn to Scripture – and if so, I recommend the book of Philippians. It is filled with joy! And joy is a great antidote to despair.

In today’s lesson from Philippians, Paul writes, “Rejoice in the Lord always, again, I say, Rejoice.” That’s got a happy sounding ring to it – and reminds me a bit of the Bobby McFerrin_ song, “Don’t Worry Be Happy”. It’s a happy sounding message - but Paul is not sitting on the beach writing lyrics to a pop song. Paul was sitting in prison - in chains.

Prison is a funny place to be rejoicing. But Paul is looking at the bigger picture. He is not rejoicing for his situation. He’s rejoicing – in the Lord.  And  he’s inviting people in the church of Philipi --and us to rejoice too.

Paul urges us to not only rejoice – but to “Rejoice in the Lord”– because of God’s gift of love for you. It is because of God’s gift of love that we can dare to trust in the Lord, focus on God’s never-failing presence and seek to be of the same mind as Christ.  This is Paul’s hope for the Philippians – and for us.

Rejoicing in the Lord isn’t always easy – especially in the midst of conflict. We don’t know what it was, but Paul apparently heard about a disagreement in Philippi involving two of the leaders, Euodia and Syntyche and is concerned enough to write about it – which probably means that the  disagreement was affecting the whole church.  Paul urges Eudia and Syntyche – to “be of the same mind in the Lord” and then encourages the other leaders in the community to help and support them. He calls one of the leaders, “my loyal companion” which in Greek is more literally translated as my yoke-partner.

So what is a yoke-partner? When a farmer went to plow a field, he would hook two oxen together in one double yoke. He would try to make them evenly matched in size and strength so that the one would not tire before the other but, instead, one would encourage the other. This is the relationship that Paul is hoping for Syntyche and Euodia. Euodia’s name means “the way” and so I think Paul is encouraging them – and through their example all of the Christians to become yoke-partners so that they can find “the way” IN CHRIST, together. This is what Christian community is all about – finding the way – in Christ – together.

This is more than simply asking people to put up with one another. It is about being a Christian community together. Paul urges the Philippians and us to remember their mission is to be of the same mind as Christ and then encourages them to reflect the love and joy of Christ in the way they live their daily lives.

So how can we do that in this time of the pandemic, the national reckoning on race, in a divided country? How can we do that in such a time as this? How can we hold onto joy in such a time as this?

Anthony Ray Hinton spent thirty years on death row for a crime he did not commit. When he was finally released by a unanimous Supreme Court ruling, he was asked why he didn’t seem bitter or angry. He responded, “If I’m angry and unforgiving, they will have taken the rest of my life.”  He continued, “The world didn’t give you your joy and the world can’t take it away… I refused to let anyone take my joy. … when you are blessed to see another day that should automatically give you joy. “2

Brother Steindle-Rast puts it this way, “Joy is the happiness that does not depend on what happens. It is the grateful response to the opportunity that life offers you at this moment.” 3 And this is why we can rejoice—even in such a time like this.

In the Book of Joy, Arch Bishop Tutu said that one of his faith practices during the days of apartheid was to pray daily for the government officials that were maintaining the racist unfair system. He prayed not only for God to transform their hearts and the oppressive system but sincerely prayed for their families and their health and wellbeing. He said that it helped him to love them rather than to hate them – and it made it possible for him to work with them during the transition of the country into a democracy.  It helped him to hold onto joy.

We are a short time away from the 2020 election. It may take time for the results to be tabulated. In the meantime, I have heard much anxiety expressed in the media about the results and what will happen – on both sides.

So… brothers and sisters, friends in Christ, this is our time to pray. Like Arch Bishop Tutu, let us pray - not only for the candidates that you want to win this election but also for the ones that you do NOT want to win.  Pray for the people – your friends in Christ – who may be voting differently from you.  Pray too for peace – peace for the nation, peace for those who vote and think differently than you do and peace for yourself.

For the blessing in prayer – in taking all of our cares and concerns to Christ, is–as Paul writes, that “the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

We can be at peace. For we know the end of the story. As Paul says, our names are written in the book of life! How much more then, should we spend this time, and these days, cultivating a spirit of joy among us, a spirit of love for the other and praying for peace for ourselves, our neighbors and our world.

And if you still get anxious, then, hear Paul’s words to the Philippians and us: “beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.” In Jesus’ name. Amen.

1Women in International Security-Canada and author of Jihad & Co.: Black Markets & Islamist power.

2 The Book of Joy, His Holiness the Dalai Lama and Archbishop Desmond Tutu and Douglas Adams, Penguin Random House 2016 p. 245

3 The Book of Joy, p. 245

Blessing of Animals

I was participating in my first Faith-Lilac Way Council Meeting on Zoom last week, and before we got down to the business of the evening, our group dwelled for a bit in one of the Psalms. I got to read the line, “The Lord is good to all, and his compassion is over all that he has made.” (Ps 145:9) And I had this big wondering: what if everything God has made in all of creation has an element of God’s personality within it? I hadn’t really thought about it that way before, but it began to make sense to me.

We need look no further than our furry, finned, or feathered family members…that is, our pets…to be reminded of how God’s personality is alive in creation. Am I right?

About a year ago, we welcomed our puppy Hazel, a double-doodle (which is a combination of a Golden Doodle and a Labradoodle) into our family. Let me tell you, it was not a great time for such a big commitment. I had just started a demanding job at the hospital and my husband had just had foot surgery and was on crutches. I’m not sure what possessed us to do this, come to think of it. We didn’t even have time to mow our own lawn, much less get up at night with a puppy! Yet train the puppy we did…somehow. 

After COVID hit in March, and everyone was trapped at home, we looked back at our decision from a few months earlier and said…getting this puppy was one of the best things we have ever done. To me, Hazel is such a reminder of the radical welcome of God. She knows exactly when I wake up in the morning, and she is the first one to come greet me with exuberant puppy kisses and a wagging tail. Just think: every morning, I have a family member that comes up to tell me I am basically the best thing in the whole world! When my kids are sad or anxious or bored, cuddles and play time with Hazel seem to make everything in the world okay again. No matter what mischief she gets into, no matter how many little socks she swallows or how many tears she makes in the furniture, I will always know her to be a gift from God during a troubling time.

I’m sure that those of you with pets in your care and even those of you who just enjoy creatures in the wild can relate to seeing God’s very personality in animals. Indeed, God’s personality shows up in all of creation. In wind, rain and earthquake; in sunshine, rainbow, and star; in mountain top, moon, and sea floor. If we are in relationship with God, then it seems that we are also in relationship with creation.

On the occasion of the “World Day of Prayer for the Care of Creation” in September, Pope Francis wrote beautifully, and I quote:[1]

“[This] is indeed a time of grace to remember creation’s original vocation to exist and flourish as a community of love. We exist only in relationships: with God the Creator, with our brothers and sisters as members of a common family, and with all of God’s creatures within our common home. ‘Everything is related, and we human beings are united as brothers and sisters on a wonderful pilgrimage, woven together by the love God has for each of [God’s] creatures and which also unites us in fond affection with brother sun, sister moon, brother river and mother earth.” 

Today is a day to give thanks to God and bless the animals who we love and who love us so dearly, but it is also time to pause, to look with humility on our place in creation, to reimagine our deep connection to all living things, and to recommit to the stewardship of our world.

May we learn to balance our needs with the needs of all creation, and to walk in ways of life together that sustain us all.

Amen. 

[1]http://www.vatican.va/content/francesco/en/messages/pont-messages/2020/documents/papa-francesco_20200901_messaggio-giornata-cura-creato.html

In this beautiful letter

In this beautiful letter to the church he founded in Philippi, Paul calls his beloved friends into the humility of Christ by recalling one of the earliest hymns of the Christian church.

This “Christ hymn” was likely very meaningful to the Philippians; perhaps they even knew it by heart, much like we know the Lord’s Prayer or the Apostle’s Creed, or our own favorite hymn. In it, the very essence of Christ’s self-sacrificing heart is captured poetically. Paul uses the hymn to comfort the Philippians who face difficult times and to nudge them in the direction of Christ’s humility and unity as a church. Maybe during these days, we need that comfort and nudge too.    

Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, Paul writes. I don’t know about you, but most time the thought of “having the same mind that was in Jesus Christ” – seems like one tall order. How exactly am I to empty and humble myself like Christ, when Christ went so far as to lay down his life for me, for us? Where does one go for “practical advice” on this seemingly impossible ask?

When I search for contemporary examples of Christ-like humility, I immediately jump to giants of the faith like Mother Teresa. Now here was a young Catholic girl from Albania named Agnes, who, at the age of twelve, heard a strong call from God. She became a nun and lived a life of devotion and self-sacrifice, working tirelessly on behalf of the poorest of the poor in the slums of Calcutta, India. Her missionary work spread all over the world, earning her numerous awards and distinctions, including the Nobel Peace Prize in 1979. Surely, this was the kind of life Paul had in mind as he wrote to his church in Philippi.

Yet did you know that a book of Mother Teresa’a letters published after her death revealed that she, in fact, was deeply tormented about her faith throughout her life? She was deeply doubtful about God, spiritually empty more often than not. She was, indeed, deeply human.     

Still, she continued, holding the hands of lepers, and kissing the cheeks of those who were starving to death…witnessing to Christ through her hands, her smile, and her loving presence. I wonder if she was also searching for Christ in the faces of those she served.

It seems that no matter who we are in this life, to allow the mind of Christ to be shaped within is, in part to know deeply that we need one another.

As I listen to Paul’s letter to the Philippians again, I’m struck by how deeply Paul and the members of his church needed one another as they collectively persevered in the faith. Paul calls the Philippians his beloved (Phil 2:12), joyously recounting all they have meant to one another. The truth is that even as Paul’s founding words and presence led many in this early church to Christ, it is the people of the church who have sustained Paul’s broader ministry, spiritually, emotionally, and financially. Now, in prison and facing an uncertain future at the hands of the Romans, Paul reached out once more in solidarity, to help them with their internal conflicts, to rekindle their unity and shared purpose in Christ. As one commentator put it: “[Paul and the Philippians] are coparticipants in the good news about the things God has accomplished through Jesus Christ.”[1]

To co-labor with Christ is to open our hearts to both the giving and receiving of love and fellowship – to open our hearts to the reciprocity of being Christ to one another – just as was the case between Paul and the members of this early church in Philippi. 

Sometimes, this reciprocity hits home in a moment shared with a complete stranger.

Last year, about this time of year, I had just started working at Methodist Hospital as a chaplain. I was rushing to work one morning and everything seemed to be going wrong. I had slept through my alarm, I had no time to make coffee, the kids barely got to the bus on time…and when I finally got on the highway to work, there was a major traffic jam. And then, when I got into the parking garage at the hospital, I took a wrong turn, and ended up going in circles for a while. I was nervous to be seeing patients that day for the first time, and now I was late for work.

As I yanked my heavy bag out from the car, and rushed into the hospital, I noticed from a distance a nurse in scrubs standing outside the parking lot door, holding it wide open for me. She had warm eyes and a knowing smile, and she simply said, “I’m leaving and you are coming.”

It was a small act of kindness, really, but the moment we shared was sacred. Something inside of me really saw this nurse. I saw that she looked weary after a long night of work, her ponytail messy and her mascara smeared. And she clearly saw me, harried and anxious, and looked out for me by opening the door. We were two strangers who saw one another as beloved. One person giving what she could give, the other receiving what she needed. Christ was present, I am certain of it.

That’s the other piece about taking on the mind of Christ. It means having a capacity to really see people, for who they are, beloved children of God, and opening their doors when we can. Not just literal doors, though that is kind too. But when we act with the heart of Christ, we open metaphorical doors for others: we share our time and attention, we share our resources, and we are willing to share our own power and privilege with others who lack it. This is exactly how Christ emptied himself for us.   

To find Christ, is to need and seek out one another. To really see one another as beloved. To give graciously and receive gratefully. And to share what power and privilege we have in this life with others. Even as I write these words, they seem like such simple truths about humility. But they are profoundly counter-cultural, in Paul’s day and today, in a world that says greed and power should rule the day. In a world that says the first shall be first, and the last shall be last. In a world that says hold on to whatever you have for yourself.

Jesus came into this world to show us a different way. 

It is not an easy way. And it is not a comfortable way. And sometimes it doesn’t even seem fair. But our God gives us a precious gift, the gift of abundant faith and with it the vision to see Christ working in the world, and the strength to be Christ working in the world.    

Dear friends, may you find comfort and unity in the humble heart of Christ and in one another today.

Amen.

[1] Matthew L. Skinner, A Companion to the New Testament: Paul and the Pauline Letters (Waco, Texas: Baylor University Press, 2018) 197.

Generosity

There is a part of me that really doesn’t like this parable and another part that loves it.

First – why I really don’t like this parable.  I grew up on a small dairy farm and when it was harvest season – like now – everyone worked. So having spent some summers working all day in the heat and the sun, I can sympathize with those who worked all day - and resented getting paid the same as those who worked just an hour. They cry out, “Not fair!” and they grumble.

And I get it – it just doesn’t seem fair. I understand that grumbling – and I may have grumbled too. But that doesn’t put me in very good company.  It puts me with the workers who worked all day and grumbled; the pharisees who were constantly grumbling and with the older brother of the prodigal son – remember, he complained of his father’s generosity too. This parable teaches me that although I grew up being told to be “fair,” sometimes being fair isn’t always the best course of action. 

For example, imagine that I had a big project to do in my yard. And then suppose there were three neighborhood youth hanging out at the corner nearby. I knew them and so I called out to them, “Hey, can you come and help me? I need to get this cleared. And I’ve got doughnuts for those who help!”

 A couple of kids came over and started to help. One ignored me, busy with his phone. The two kids and I worked and worked but we were barely making a dent. Then I saw a few other kids on another corner. I made the same offer and they came to help too. This went on for the whole afternoon. At the end of the day, even the guy on his phone came to help – for about 15 minutes. But, together, we got the job done. 

So how do I give out the doughnuts? Do I parcel out the doughnuts based on the time that each one worked? Do I give 5 doughnuts to the ones who came first?  And then a couple to the ones who came after that? And then tear off a quarter of a doughnut for the one who came last? It would be fair, right?  But not the best solution. I would likely make the first two sick and shame the last one.

In Jesus’ story, the owner doesn’t seem at all concerned about being “fair” or about paying by the hour. Instead, he chooses to be generous to those who weren’t chosen first.

We don’t know the stories of the workers in the vineyard or why some of them weren’t hired at the beginning of the day. We do know that daily wage workers depended in those days and still today on working every day in order to make ends meet. But it’s possible that some were simply lazy and slept in.  But maybe one of them had to take care of his kids before he left for work. Maybe another one of them lived out of town and had to walk to the job center because he didn’t have any bus fare. Maybe some of them looked weak or old or sickly and no one wanted to hire them. We don’t know. All we know is that the vineyard owner simply chooses to give them what they need – and not what they deserve.

Jonah, in our first lesson, gets mad at God for not giving the Ninevites the treatment they deserve – which is the destruction of their city and their lives. Even God had called the Nineva a wicked city.  But instead of just crushing them, God decides to send Jonah to proclaim their destruction if they did not repent.

It’s a great story, but often we just focus on the escapades of Jonah running away from God and getting swallowed by a whale. When Jonah finally is convinced to go to Ninevah, he gives the most effective sermon ever – just one sentence warning that the people of Ninevah would be destroyed in 40 days. It worked. The king and all the people listened and repented and then… God changed God’s mind and forgave them. And Jonah got mad.

Jonah yells, “O Lord! Is not this what I said while I was still in my own country? That is why I fled; …for I knew that you are a gracious God and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love, and ready to relent from punishing.”  And then he pouts. He grumbles.

And this makes me think about those times when I have been caught grumbling when things don’t seem fair. (And I’m reminded that those who are grumbling are always the ones who are doing the opposite of God’s will and God’s way).  So, perhaps instead of asking if something is fair (or complaining when it is not) the question that I need to ask is a different one. Maybe I need to ask: what is the most gracious and generous way that I can respond? Because that’s the way God responds – and the way God wants us to respond to one another too,

For Jonah was right about who God is. God is gracious, merciful, slow to anger, loving and… ready to forgive.  That’s why God chose to give the Ninevites what they needed – a prophet -- so that they could change their ways – instead of the destruction that they deserved.

This is God’s character. God chooses to forgive the Ninevites and the rest of us sinners – all of us - who fall short of being the people that God made us to be. Instead of giving us what we deserve – God gives us something much, much better. God gives us Jesus – to be our savior who forgives us, restores us, renews us and promises to be with us always. Instead of being fair, God is generous with me – and you –and gives us far more than we can imagine.

And this is why I love this parable. It not only shows God’s grace and generosity but also encourages me – and you -- to be and act like our best selves. In the midst of the challenges of this day, it isn’t easy. But even at times like these, we can pray that the Holy Spirit gives us the grace to show generosity to one another– not only to our friends but also to those we call stranger, those you may disagree with, “those other people” or even those you don’t like… which sometimes includes ourselves.   And God, who hears all our prayers, will graciously give you – and me – the courage to show mercy, grace and love too. Thanks be to God! Amen.

Generous God, thank you for giving us mercy, love and grace instead of giving us what we deserve. Help us to show that same love and grace to others. Lord in your mercy….