A Dead God Does No Good

Were Crucifixion the means of Atonement,

there would be no need for Resurrection.

A Dead God does no good.

A metaphor used to explain Jesus

to cultures and peoples accustomed to temple sacrifice

keeps getting twisted into the idea

that if we just kill the right people,

justice will be served

and society will be healed.

There is no Redemption in violence.

We Are Both Growing And Dying

You have heard it said,

'If you are not growing,

you're dying.'

But,

Life teaches us that we

are both growing AND dying.

From the day we are born,
we are on a journey
of both growth and death.

To live
is to be constantly changing
in ways we may notice
or not notice much at all
on our way to dying

And nothing living lasts forever.
Perhaps it is our own ego, our vanity
that makes us wish to build empires
when humble abodes will do

After all,
Empires require armies
to uphold their power
and Institutions end up
only serving themselves
and will harm anyone
who threatens their status quo.

There's no escaping death,
so let's make the most of life,
and enjoy each other's company
as best we can along the way.

To Grow is to Die, and To Die is to Grow

 You have heard it said,

'If you are not growing, you're dying.'

But,

Life teaches us that we are both growing AND dying.

From the day we are born,

we are on a journey

of both growth and death.

To live

is to be constantly changing

in ways we may notice

or not notice much at all

on our way to dying

And nothing living lasts forever.

Perhaps it is our own ego, our vanity

that makes us wish to build empires

when humble abodes will do

After all,

Empires require armies

to uphold their power

and Institutions end up

only serving themselves

and will harm anyone

who threatens their status quo.

There's no escaping death,

so let's make the most of life,

and enjoy each other's company

as best we can along the way.

For All The Saints (Even The Rascally Ones)...

Luke 19:1-10
look this up on bible.oremus.org or biblegateway.com

On the occasion of All Saints’ Sunday, and the dedication of our new hymnals

In between our All Saint’s day liturgy and dedicating our new hymnals and celebrating communion and everything else we do this day, lies the Gospel story of a man named Zaccheus.

Now, Zaccheus is described as a tax collector--and in those days one might just as well have added, a corrupt tax collector.  It was understood that they all were.  In fact the Gospel says he was the chief tax collector, and he was rich, which meant that he was really corrupt--because they didn’t pay tax collectors all that great; they earned their money by extorting extra off the peasants of the land.

Zaccheus was hardly righteous, a most unlikely saint.

And yet somehow he is a beloved little villain in the Bible--maybe because he was so short, or maybe because he was up in that tree, or perhaps because of that famous children’s song.  Sing with me if you know it:

Zaccheus was a wee little man, and a wee little man was he.

He climbed up in a sycamore tree for the Lord he wanted to see.

And as the Savior passed that way He looked up in the tree, and said:

Zaccheus, come down, for I’m going to your house today.

I’m going to your house today.

(That’s probably the second song I learned in Sunday School when I was about three years old, right after ‘Jesus Loves Me.’)

So you might even say he’s the character not that you love to hate, but that you almost hate to love.

Ah, but there’s the problem.  The crowd gathered there knows all about Zaccheus, and they don’t love him.  He’s done them wrong.  They’ve got his number, and he’s making Jesus look either naive or incredulous, hanging out with him.  Maybe they’re even trying to warn him: Look out Jesus, you’re about to get scammed here.  He’s no good.

Then, in front of the crowd, Zaccheus says he’ll give half his possessions to the poor and pay back four times as much of whatever he’s defrauded anyone.  This means Zaccheus in on the hook for a lot of dough, and he’s about to become a very poor man.

And that is perhaps a better definition of the saints, those all-too-human and fallible, maybe even rascally, folks we know and love.  People that aren’t perfect, but have known love and shown love.  People who have not matched every footstep as Jesus’ disciple, but who still try to follow as best they can, knowing that it is not their perfection that is counted, but God’s grace.

On this All Saints’ Day, we remember those whom we have loved who have died and gone to their heavenly home before us.  Sometimes we might wonder, particularly if our loved one had his or her troubles, will we see them in heaven?  Yet I believe God’s grace is sufficient, and finds even the most rascally ones to transform.  By that day, we will all see with new eyes, and all that blurs our vision now will fall away, and all we will see is love for one another.  That task has been completed, because we are reconciled to God in the resurrection.  And knowing God’s grace for us, grace while we were still sinners and hadn’t done one thing to deserve it, can transform our lives right now, causing us to do the most generous and amazing things for others, even if nobody else thinks we ever would.

Jesus says, the Son of Man came to seek out and to save the lost.  Not the perfect, not the self-righteous, but the lost.  Zaccheus had it all, but he was so very, very, lost.  Whether we are half as lost, or even if we’re twice as lost, there is hope in this life.  In the most unlikely times and to the most unlikely people, Jesus shows up.  Jesus might even say, “I simply must stay at your home today.”  And in the hosting, we will find joy.  It may not make us rich, at least not as the world counts it, but we will find joy.  Thanks be to God!

Prayers this week:

Those struggling this week with a reduction of food stamps

For those transitioning to long-term care facilities, or to Hospice

For those providing care for a loved one with a long-term or terminal illness

Boston’s Sheep and Shepherds

Acts 9:36-43; Psalm 23; Revelation 7:9-17; John 22-30

I was really looking forward to preaching about nice, innocent, fuzzy sheep this week--sheep, who maybe aren’t the brightest animals, and maybe are kind of stinky, and shepherding is hard work--but, sheep never hurt anybody.  They just eat grass and follow shepherds.

Well, we’ll still talk about sheep, but I want to talk a little bit about the events of this past week as well. I found these Scripture passages took on a new meaning for me while I was watching the news about the Boston Marathon massacre.  Maybe if I recount them, you’ll see it with me:

An Unbearable Ordeal:

Like the passage in Revelation, that conversation between John and the elder in his dream, in the midst of this great multitude all gathered together from every nation, tribes and peoples and languages:  “Who are these, robed in white, and where have they come from?”  “These are they who have come out of the great ordeal; they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.”  We now know about people who have come through or are still coming through a great ordeal, and we have seen the pictures of their bloodied clothing--perhaps we saw more in these pictures than we’ve ever seen of the injured before in a catastrophe such as this.

Or even, “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.”  As I was looking at the aerial photos and video of the scene, those tall buildings on either side, it struck me how much it looked like a valley of the shadow of death--how utterly inescapable it seemed.

The scene also reminded me of another valley of the shadow of death, that is, Jerusalem, in the time of Jesus, as the Gospel reading tells us about today.  It was the Festival of the Dedication--swarms of people were coming into the city, and there was a big security crackdown, the people in the crowd most certainly felt the police-state presence, and not in great ways.  And then there were the people questioning Jesus about his role in the midst of all of this:  Why keep us in suspense?  Tell us plainly--but they weren’t asking because they wanted to believe; they were baiting a trap.  And yet Jesus, who was in danger of being trapped by the powers that be, responds:  My sheep hear my voice, I know them and they follow me.  I give them eternal life, and they will never perish.  No one will snatch them out of my hand.

We Can’t Live In A Bubble:

John Calvin [a founder of the Reformed tradition of Christianity] wrote of weeks that happened just like this, and about the paralysis of fear:  that really at any moment you and your family could be swept off by war or famine or weather or plagues; you could be riding your horse to market and a tree could fall on you; you could stay home, the one place where you think it’s safe in this dangerous world, and the house might burn down!  

In reality, there is no way to avoid absolutely every peril.

And just this week, we realize: you could take your family to a happy sports event and be wiped out by a bombing; you could be sitting in a nursing home and the fertilizer plant next door could wipe you out (Texas); you could stay home and be swept away in a flood (Wisconsin).  As much as I want to bubble-wrap the children when I hear the news these days--I also can’t succumb to the fear.  We must still live our lives, wisely, of course,  but living them nonetheless.

There are some other passages that really resonated with me as I studied the Scriptures this week--for example, that the people were being scattered like sheep, afraid--we saw some folks running still towards the finish because that’s what they were supposed to do, the singular goal they’d had for so many miles; others were searching desperately for their loved ones.  Others yet were injured and bewildered.  

And then, there was this passage, which gave me some comfort:  The one who is seated on the throne will shelter them.  They will hunger no more, and thirst no more.  The Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd, and he will guide them to springs of the water of life....God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.

Did you see the helpers?

Fred Rogers, who is perhaps my favorite Presbyterian pastor, had a saying which is now repeated in ubiquitous facebook postings every time we have a tragedy like this....Look for the helpers, in every tragedy you will find people trying to help --and in Boston, they were there--including the first responders, those folks dressed in yellow, running to the place of death and destruction, removing the barrier fences, and providing aid; and directing others away from the danger.  Others were picking up injured people and running away from the danger.    Yet other folks were running to donate blood to those who would need it.  They were all...shepherding.  They were themselves, good shepherds.

In a time of spring, we find these events hard to fathom, and yet these verses bring us comfort.  For some, the green pastures and still waters are found in our heavenly home.  For others, they’re as immediate as outside our church windows [we have beautiful views of the fields around us in a semi-rural setting].  It’s a gift to us to have land around us where deer come to graze and ducks come to swim and owls live in the trees and sandhill cranes stop by every now and then.  It reminds us that there is more here, that our Heavenly Father has done much more, and much more good, than any evil we humans can cook up.  When humanity seems very inhumane, this little plot of land, I think, can help us remember who truly is in control.

And there is, throughout our world, a community of healers every time there is a tragedy--God calls us to respond in love and compassion--and not to be afraid; not to hide our families from a good world because of the evil that someone may perpetrate, but to prepare ourselves to respond in ways that show we know that what our God has done is greater than all of this.  No one can snatch that out of the Father’s hand.

We are not promised that there will be no evil or enemies; we are not promised that there will be no death.  We are not promised that there will be no ordeals.  However, we are promised this:  God will wipe every tear from our eyes; God has promised us eternal life; and God has also promised us here on this earth his holy presence, no matter what we may face.  Much more than we can see, goodness and mercy shall follow us all the days of our life, bringing healing, and allowing us to be a blessing to others.

Bright Sunday--Faith Rooted in Joy

Acts 9:1-20; Psalm 30; Revelation 5:11-14; John 21:1-19

Instructions folks received prior to worship:  For worship today, please take a ‘fish’ with you.  Share anything you wish that you are most grateful or joyful for in your life.  During the message, we will have the opportunity to place these into the ‘net’ at the front.  You will also have the opportunity to share your thoughts aloud during the service.

Today is Holy Humor Sunday, or Bright Sunday--a day in which we celebrate how God turned the tables on sin and death by raising Jesus from the dead.  We have hymns about joy; we have an ice cream social later, and we have the opportunity to express those things in our own life for which we are most grateful or joyful.

In Easter, above all other times, God reverses the rules of nature--namely that the dead stay dead.  In many ways, the forgiveness which Jesus preached and taught also reverses the rules of nature--even though these people who were closest to Jesus betrayed him and abandoned him at the time of his arrest and trial and death--Jesus has forgiven them!

And Jesus has a pretty good time doing it, too--and that’s what we see in this Gospel story of breakfast on the beach.  The disciples don’t know what else to do with themselves, so they go out fishing.  They’re on the boat all night, and catch nothing.  

Then Jesus shows up, and gives them a little fishing advice, and they have so many fish that they can’t haul them all in.  And Peter realizes it’s the Lord--and has to find some clothes because he’s fishing naked--(and it’s worth noting that where he’s fishing, is obviously warmer than Wisconsin)!

But that’s alright.  By the time Peter and the other disciples get back to the shore, Jesus has the fire going and is cooking them breakfast.  

Jesus has enough faith in his friends that even though they messed up, and are also crummy fishermen, he just wants to feed them.  He takes joy in doing so.  And then he's going to give them a new task-- they might even do better at it:  fishing for people.

There is also in the Gospel story this somewhat puzzling interchange with Peter--”Feed my sheep.”  Jesus has a special role for Peter, who had betrayed him.  The disciples who were instructed to fish for people, are now also asked to feed lambs--to tend the young and raise them. This requires a great deal of trust.  Yet, Jesus has restored the relationships and given them new purpose, to restore relationships between God and people, and among people themselves, wherever they may reach.  It is a task that will certainly be messy, much like fishing or feeding sheep, but one that is deeply rooted in the joy of being loved and forgiven.

Feast or famine?  [A Hands-On Activity]

This is an opportunity to write what you are most grateful or joyful for in your own life, and share it with one another.  When you are ready, you may bring your fish forward and place it in the “net,” or one of the ushers will come and collect them for you.  We see when all of them are gathered how abundant our joy is--something so important to remember in the midst of daily life when we worry about bills to pay or who’s fighting with who or any of the deeper difficulties in life as well.  Where is our joy?

If you would like to take a moment and share your word or phrase, please do so.

(Pause)

We follow the Lord, by feeding his sheep, by tending his lambs, by hauling in an incredible amount of fish--both again messy tasks, but ones that can also bring incredible joy.

Before I finish, I want to remind you not only of Peter but of our other story this morning, of Saul, a persecutor of Christians, who becomes Paul, an apostle whose prolific letters and pastoral care kept up the churches all over the Mediterranean, and still give us hope today.  God has a sense of humor in that.  --God qualifies the least likely people to do incredible things.  

God forgives us and continues to love us, and still has a place for us, no matter what we’ve done or been.  God’s faith in us is rooted in joy.  We have this reason to be joyful always!

An Empty Tomb (Easter 2013)

John 20:1-18; Acts 10:34-43; 1 Corinthians 15:19-26; Psalm 118

Christ has risen.  Christ has risen indeed, Alleluia!

Christ has risen.  Christ has risen indeed, Alleluia!

Christ has risen.  Christ has risen indeed, Alleluia!

The story goes, early, on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary came and saw the stone had been removed from the tomb, so she ran and told Peter and John, that they have taken the Lord and we do not know where they have laid him.

So they begin to run, and they get there, and they see what they see, yep, he’s gone, and they go home.  End of story, right?  He went somewhere, or someone took him at least; nice of them to fold the linens before going.  The end. Or so it seems to the disciples.

But Mary stays behind.  She’s weeping.  It’s not enough.  She looks inside the tomb, still weeping, and sees the angels.  And they ask her, ‘why are you weeping?’  And she says again, “they’ve taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.”  

And then suddenly, Jesus himself is standing there, and asks, “woman, why are you weeping?”  And she says, as if to a total stranger, “if you have taken him away, tell me where, and I’ll take him away.”

And Jesus looks at her and says, “Maaary!”

And the lightbulb goes on:  that’s the aha moment!

And then Jesus tells her to go.  He has a job for her to do--to tell the disciples that he is risen, and will ascend to their father and their God.

Do you know why church services are ordered the way they are?  We gather in this place, on the first day of the week, praising God, yet maybe the weight of the week before us is still bothering us. Maybe it seems that everything is still dark.  And we confess our  sins--maybe that God seems far away after everything that’s gone on, and we just don’t know how to be reunited.  And then we hear a proclamation that our sins are forgiven--and we rejoice, right?  There’s that “gloria” thing we do....But maybe we don’t get it, or don’t quite understand, or it just doesn’t seem to be enough. We still feel in the dark. So we hear the scripture lessons and the message.  We lift up our hearts with hymns and recite our creeds--even if they might feel more strange to us than familiar.  We offer our lives and our resources in hopes that they’ll do some good.  We pray, and maybe then we can hear that familiar, personal, comforting voice of God.  But even if we have that ‘AHA!’ moment--there’s a surprise.  We can’t stay here.  We have work to do.  Just when we’ve settled in, it’s time to go back out there into that world, the one that so often weighs us down, and proclaim the good news--that Christ is risen, and my God is your God, and our Father is the loving Father of those other folks as well.  

Every Sunday is a little Easter, a little Resurrection.  Good news!  Right?

It’s alright though, if we don’t get that, whether every Sunday, or any Sunday, or even on Easter Sunday.  After all--even Jesus’ closest friends and best students did not get it.

They didn’t expect the Resurrection.  If anything, they expected grave robbers or Roman soldiers to have taken the body.  

And afterwards--well, things weren’t perfect, even among the disciples; we heard right here in the story about the famous competition between Peter and John--or, as you might have heard: the guy that would become the head of the church--and the disciple whom Jesus loved.  That conflict kept on, even to their own students, who finally wrote down these gospels of Mark and John.

And then Mary, who by tradition we say washed Jesus’ feet with her tears and dried them with her hair--she doesn’t even recognize Jesus, and thinks he’s just the gardener.  And yet the one who weeps, becomes the first one to spread the proclamation of joy.

The thing is though, questions and not- understanding, doubts and skepticism, even cynicism are essential to faith; faith is not unquestioning belief.  Grant the disciples their due for being human.  After all, God became human to reach humans.

Paul writes, “If for this life only we have hoped for Christ, we are most of all to be pitied.”  Instead, Christ is raised, and not just him, but us also, that death is not the end, but eternal life.  Reunification.  A healing of wounds and grief.  

Miracles will happen, and we won’t necessarily get it.  We’ll be weeping even in the midst of joy.  We will be transformed in some ways and still entirely too human in other ways.  And God is forgiving.  After all, God knows us, and our limitations.  

So even though the disciples were not perfect, and even though we are not perfect--even if we don’t understand any of this stuff that happened that we celebrate today, or celebrate every Sunday--remember:  Jesus Christ is still risen from the dead.  Jesus Christ still calls us by name--knows us even when we don’t recognize Him, even if we mistake Jesus for a total stranger.  And Resurrection happens, even when we least expect it.  And that is reason for real joy, in spite of ourselves even, on this day, and always.

Christ is risen!  Christ is risen indeed!  Alleluia!  

Alleluia!

The peace of Christ be with you!  Amen.