I've had a hard time writing my sermon for this Sunday because my brain has stuck on this wonderful image relating to Faith, Hope, and the Unseen, but it doesn't fit with the actual message I'm preaching.
So I'm going to share it here.
The Obama Administration recently let it be known that 70% of the oil in the gulf has disappeared.
Wonderful! We can't see it, so it must not matter!
Truth be told it has been dispersed or is lurking deeper in the water. It is still there, it still matters, it is just unseen.
Hebrews describes faith as "the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen."
So, I simply want to say faith is like 70% of the oil in the gulf--you can't see it, but it matters.
Saturday, August 07, 2010
Sunday, August 01, 2010
In the end, things end
In the end, things end
After service last Sunday I drove out to Mar-Lu-Ridge a Lutheran camp near Fredrick Maryland.
For five days 8 adults and 27 youth focused on the story of Passover through skits, songs, and activities, included making bricks without straw and throwing Pastor Matt—then dressed as Pharaoh—into the swimming pool in order to simulate crossing the red sea.
Beside the faith building aspect of this time together, there was also fellow-ship time. Shy campers, slowly but surely, came out of their shells and made new friends. Other campers connected with old ones who they hadn’t seen since camp last year. At least one camp romance blossomed.
And then. Then Confirmation Camp was done. After five intense days—living, learning, and laughing together—confirmation camp was done.
Facebook information was shared, emails exchanged, tears shed, man-hugs traded
But camp was done—we would return to our respective churches and cities, the friendships of the moment would be seen in light of distance and time.
But, in the end, camp ended.
If the author of Ecclesiastes was writing home from camp he would probably say, “there is a time for camp, and a time for not being in camp.” Because, in the end, things end.
And, on this, my last official Sunday at St. John’s, I cannot help but think of my time here.
Of my rough start punctuated with a mugging and a shooting.
Of slowly but surely coming out of my shell.
Of our special Wednesday services during Advent and Lent.
Of the connections I have made with all of you.
Of hospital and home visits and Tuesday Bible Study.
How I have been growing into God’s calling upon my life—the calling of ministry.
How I have been learning at the feet of Pastor Gregg and growing through my successes and through my failures as a Vicar this year.
And yet, I can not help but be aware that all of this is coming to an end. I will, of course, keep St. John’s, and all my Baltimore people, in my prayers and updated about my life. I will hopefully make it to the instillation of Bishop Wolfgang and perhaps see some people there—but my time here—like Justin, Rene, and Calvin’s time at camp—has passed. Because, in the end, things end.
In the end, things end.
Let us pray:
Lord God, may my words and their meaning be meaningful and true. May they reflect faithfully your faithfulness to us. In Jesus name. Amen.
While trying to preach from this weeks readings has been challenging, I am glad that one of my favorite books of the Bible, Ecclesiastes, is here for me to preach from.
This book, is the ruminations and reflections of a man who has grown tired of wisdom literature, tired of common-sense, and at times cliché, explanations of the way the world works.
At the heart of Wisdom Literature is the assumption that there are two types of people in this world—the Wise and the Foolish.
Wisdom Literature also maintains that , it is better to be wise than foolish. The world works better for you if you are wise.
Good things happen to wise people, bad things happen to foolish people.
So, our goal in life, according to Wisdom Literature, is to act wisely… to act in ways that ebb and flow with the way the world works.
For example, it is written in the book of Proverbs—a prime example of Wisdom Literature, “consider the ant you sluggard, watch its ways and be wise.”
But, much like my children’s sermon today, the author of Ecclesiastes writes in big letters, “hold on a minute!”
He looks at the world around him and notices that both the industrious ant and the lazy grasshopper die. He notes, as does the Psalmist today, that those who are wise, those who are foolish, and those who are dolts, all die together. He notes that, in the end, things end.
He takes this deep and wide realization, that in the end, things end, and puts a name to it.
He packs all the power of this insight into one word, a word that he coins.
A word that happens to be one of my favorite words in the Hebrew language, “Havel.”
Traditionally this word—Havel—is translated “vanity” as in the majestic words of the King James Bible, “Vanity of Vanities, saith the Preacher, vanity of vanities, all is vanity.”
Or translated more literally “a puff of smoke,” says the Preacher, “a puff of smoke, everything is a puff of smoke.” or perhaps “vapor vaporizing,” says the preacher, “all is… vapor vaporizing.”
Or, translated more freely, “Everything is just a tumbleweed blowing by.”
Or, perhaps I can overstep the bounds of good taste for a moment, “everything is a soaked hair weave smashed in a gutter on a rainy Saturday morning.”
In the end, things end.
And one of the hardest things about endings is that we have little control over what comes next, we don’t know what comes next.
The author of Ecclesiastes recognizes that all he has done will soon be out of his control—his life’s works will be picked up by someone else. Perhaps it will be bettered, perhaps it will be broken—he does not know.
So he writes, “One who has toiled with wisdom and knowledge and skill must leave all to be enjoyed by another who did not toil for it.”
There is one other fact about the author of the book of Ecclesiastes I forgot to mention… Its actually kind of important.
Tradition claims that the author was none other than king Solomon—the second king of Israel. Solomon, the son of King David. Solomon the king revered for his wisdom.
If this is indeed the case, there was a very particular historical reason for him to cry Havel—to cry “In the end things end.”
For, you see, Solomon had a son—Rehoboam. Rehoboam was neither wise or knowledgeable, or skillful. He barely sat down upon the throne of Israel before things fell to pieces. Under his reign a great civil war was unleashed. Under his reign Solomon’s kingdom was split asunder never to be rejoined into one nation.
Think of it. Think of the tension in Solomon’s hands as he wrote, “One who has toiled with wisdom and knowledge and skill must leave all to be enjoyed by another who did not toil for it.”
Rehoboam’s grandfather David and father Solomon spent their lives building up Israel. Rehoboam acted foolishly and in such a way that all they had worked for was brought to nothing. The Junior king of Israel destroyed all that the Senior king of Israel had toiled to create.
To bring this up to modern times I would say it was a tragedy like that of the first and the second President George Bush. The first—Bush Senior—spent much of his presidency affirming international laws and “a new world order” whereas his son—Bush Junior—disregarded and dismissed and dismantled as meaningless many of these same international laws and institutions.
In the end, things end.
Yet, it was not as if Solomon pulled himself up by his own bootstraps. Solomon did not earn his kingdom on his own and then have it thrown away by his son. He inherited his kingdom from his father David.
But, it is said David received his kingdom because he was the anointed of God.
In a sense David inherited his kingdom from God.
And I think to myself, “What would Solomon’s words sound like on the lips of the one who truly gave him the kingdom. What would his words sound like on the lips of God?” “For that matter what would it sound like upon the lips of Solomon’s great-great-great-great grandson Jesus?”
“One who has toiled with wisdom and knowledge and skill must leave all to be enjoyed by another who did not toil for it.”
Upon the lips of God these words become Grace.
Upon the lips of God our lack of wisdom, knowledge, and skill, are replaced with enjoyment.
Upon the lips of God we reap what God has planted, we benefit from the toil of God.
Upon the lips of God Havel and our endings are undergirded with sustenance, mercy, and resurrection.
Upon the lips of God the end is also the beginning.
As I reflect upon my year here I recognize that I have reaped mightily from the planting of past Vicars and of course Pastor Gregg and the entire congregation.
I have benefited from the toil of Betty, Leila, and Krista. Their endings have been gracious beginnings for me. And I hope Meheret benefits from my own meager toil and planting.
Because the end is also the beginning.
But more than that I recognize that any good I have done this year, anything wise, knowledgeable, or skillful that has come out of me has not come from me, but instead came about by the grace of God.
And I know that God will continue to be gracious to St. John’s. I know that all of St. John’s will be God’s blessing for Meheret and all future Vicars.
Because in the end, things end, but the end is also a beginning.
A+A
After service last Sunday I drove out to Mar-Lu-Ridge a Lutheran camp near Fredrick Maryland.
For five days 8 adults and 27 youth focused on the story of Passover through skits, songs, and activities, included making bricks without straw and throwing Pastor Matt—then dressed as Pharaoh—into the swimming pool in order to simulate crossing the red sea.
Beside the faith building aspect of this time together, there was also fellow-ship time. Shy campers, slowly but surely, came out of their shells and made new friends. Other campers connected with old ones who they hadn’t seen since camp last year. At least one camp romance blossomed.
And then. Then Confirmation Camp was done. After five intense days—living, learning, and laughing together—confirmation camp was done.
Facebook information was shared, emails exchanged, tears shed, man-hugs traded
But camp was done—we would return to our respective churches and cities, the friendships of the moment would be seen in light of distance and time.
But, in the end, camp ended.
If the author of Ecclesiastes was writing home from camp he would probably say, “there is a time for camp, and a time for not being in camp.” Because, in the end, things end.
And, on this, my last official Sunday at St. John’s, I cannot help but think of my time here.
Of my rough start punctuated with a mugging and a shooting.
Of slowly but surely coming out of my shell.
Of our special Wednesday services during Advent and Lent.
Of the connections I have made with all of you.
Of hospital and home visits and Tuesday Bible Study.
How I have been growing into God’s calling upon my life—the calling of ministry.
How I have been learning at the feet of Pastor Gregg and growing through my successes and through my failures as a Vicar this year.
And yet, I can not help but be aware that all of this is coming to an end. I will, of course, keep St. John’s, and all my Baltimore people, in my prayers and updated about my life. I will hopefully make it to the instillation of Bishop Wolfgang and perhaps see some people there—but my time here—like Justin, Rene, and Calvin’s time at camp—has passed. Because, in the end, things end.
In the end, things end.
Let us pray:
Lord God, may my words and their meaning be meaningful and true. May they reflect faithfully your faithfulness to us. In Jesus name. Amen.
While trying to preach from this weeks readings has been challenging, I am glad that one of my favorite books of the Bible, Ecclesiastes, is here for me to preach from.
This book, is the ruminations and reflections of a man who has grown tired of wisdom literature, tired of common-sense, and at times cliché, explanations of the way the world works.
At the heart of Wisdom Literature is the assumption that there are two types of people in this world—the Wise and the Foolish.
Wisdom Literature also maintains that , it is better to be wise than foolish. The world works better for you if you are wise.
Good things happen to wise people, bad things happen to foolish people.
So, our goal in life, according to Wisdom Literature, is to act wisely… to act in ways that ebb and flow with the way the world works.
For example, it is written in the book of Proverbs—a prime example of Wisdom Literature, “consider the ant you sluggard, watch its ways and be wise.”
But, much like my children’s sermon today, the author of Ecclesiastes writes in big letters, “hold on a minute!”
He looks at the world around him and notices that both the industrious ant and the lazy grasshopper die. He notes, as does the Psalmist today, that those who are wise, those who are foolish, and those who are dolts, all die together. He notes that, in the end, things end.
He takes this deep and wide realization, that in the end, things end, and puts a name to it.
He packs all the power of this insight into one word, a word that he coins.
A word that happens to be one of my favorite words in the Hebrew language, “Havel.”
Traditionally this word—Havel—is translated “vanity” as in the majestic words of the King James Bible, “Vanity of Vanities, saith the Preacher, vanity of vanities, all is vanity.”
Or translated more literally “a puff of smoke,” says the Preacher, “a puff of smoke, everything is a puff of smoke.” or perhaps “vapor vaporizing,” says the preacher, “all is… vapor vaporizing.”
Or, translated more freely, “Everything is just a tumbleweed blowing by.”
Or, perhaps I can overstep the bounds of good taste for a moment, “everything is a soaked hair weave smashed in a gutter on a rainy Saturday morning.”
In the end, things end.
And one of the hardest things about endings is that we have little control over what comes next, we don’t know what comes next.
The author of Ecclesiastes recognizes that all he has done will soon be out of his control—his life’s works will be picked up by someone else. Perhaps it will be bettered, perhaps it will be broken—he does not know.
So he writes, “One who has toiled with wisdom and knowledge and skill must leave all to be enjoyed by another who did not toil for it.”
There is one other fact about the author of the book of Ecclesiastes I forgot to mention… Its actually kind of important.
Tradition claims that the author was none other than king Solomon—the second king of Israel. Solomon, the son of King David. Solomon the king revered for his wisdom.
If this is indeed the case, there was a very particular historical reason for him to cry Havel—to cry “In the end things end.”
For, you see, Solomon had a son—Rehoboam. Rehoboam was neither wise or knowledgeable, or skillful. He barely sat down upon the throne of Israel before things fell to pieces. Under his reign a great civil war was unleashed. Under his reign Solomon’s kingdom was split asunder never to be rejoined into one nation.
Think of it. Think of the tension in Solomon’s hands as he wrote, “One who has toiled with wisdom and knowledge and skill must leave all to be enjoyed by another who did not toil for it.”
Rehoboam’s grandfather David and father Solomon spent their lives building up Israel. Rehoboam acted foolishly and in such a way that all they had worked for was brought to nothing. The Junior king of Israel destroyed all that the Senior king of Israel had toiled to create.
To bring this up to modern times I would say it was a tragedy like that of the first and the second President George Bush. The first—Bush Senior—spent much of his presidency affirming international laws and “a new world order” whereas his son—Bush Junior—disregarded and dismissed and dismantled as meaningless many of these same international laws and institutions.
In the end, things end.
Yet, it was not as if Solomon pulled himself up by his own bootstraps. Solomon did not earn his kingdom on his own and then have it thrown away by his son. He inherited his kingdom from his father David.
But, it is said David received his kingdom because he was the anointed of God.
In a sense David inherited his kingdom from God.
And I think to myself, “What would Solomon’s words sound like on the lips of the one who truly gave him the kingdom. What would his words sound like on the lips of God?” “For that matter what would it sound like upon the lips of Solomon’s great-great-great-great grandson Jesus?”
“One who has toiled with wisdom and knowledge and skill must leave all to be enjoyed by another who did not toil for it.”
Upon the lips of God these words become Grace.
Upon the lips of God our lack of wisdom, knowledge, and skill, are replaced with enjoyment.
Upon the lips of God we reap what God has planted, we benefit from the toil of God.
Upon the lips of God Havel and our endings are undergirded with sustenance, mercy, and resurrection.
Upon the lips of God the end is also the beginning.
As I reflect upon my year here I recognize that I have reaped mightily from the planting of past Vicars and of course Pastor Gregg and the entire congregation.
I have benefited from the toil of Betty, Leila, and Krista. Their endings have been gracious beginnings for me. And I hope Meheret benefits from my own meager toil and planting.
Because the end is also the beginning.
But more than that I recognize that any good I have done this year, anything wise, knowledgeable, or skillful that has come out of me has not come from me, but instead came about by the grace of God.
And I know that God will continue to be gracious to St. John’s. I know that all of St. John’s will be God’s blessing for Meheret and all future Vicars.
Because in the end, things end, but the end is also a beginning.
A+A
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Friday, July 16, 2010
Lutheran version of sermon: “A Unitarian and a Lutheran Walk into a Bar”
So, tomorrow I am going to be preaching a shortened version of this sermon along with my friend Christina Leone at UUCA
What follows is the version we preached at St. John's about a month ago.
“A Unitarian and a Lutheran Walk into a Bar”
St. John’s (Chris’s Intro)- Greetings brothers and sisters.
It is my pleasure to introduce Christina Leone, the intern minister of the Unitarian Universalist Church of Annapolis. During my time here at St. John’s Christina has been a sounding board about being a religious leader, a peer in ministry, and a friend. Despite our theological differences we have found commonalities as well. This sermon is the result of this ongoing conversation.
Today I will be representing Martin Luther, whose name our tradition still carries. Martin was a Roman Catholic monk in the 16th century who faced controversial practices within his faith, such as the selling of indulgences, which we demonstrated in the Youth Sermon, as well as teachings that obscured God’s grace. As he learned Greek and Hebrew, the original languages of the Bible, he became convinced that the word of God must be translated into a language people understood. Eventually he was declared a heretic and started a reform movement that focused on the Bible, allowed ministers to marry, and worked to eliminate corruption in the church.
St. John’s (Christina’s Intro)- Good morning. I am Christina Leone, as Vicar Chris mentioned. I bring greetings from my church in Annapolis. In this sermon I will play the part of Francis David, the 16th century Polish reformer who spent some time as a Catholic, a Lutheran minister, a Calvinist bishop, and finally, a Unitarian minister. As a Unitarian he eventually came to serve in the court of the Transylvanian King John Sigismund during a time of religious upheaval. There were debates over what the official religion of Transylvania should be, and Francis David convinced King John, rather than declaring one official religion and persecuting those who did not follow it, to instead issue an Edict of Toleration that permitted freedom of thought and belief across the land. Unfortunately King John only lived a few more years and was succeeded by a less open-minded king who imprisoned David for his faith and his teachings. My people look to Francis David as one of the earliest teachers of our beliefs… the belief in a unified God as opposed to the Trinity, as well as the importance of freedom, reason, and tolerance.
Francis David and Martin Luther lived around the same time, though Luther was about 30 years older than David, and this sermon is the fictional account of what might have happened if they met in a bar in 1540. The majority of this sermon conversation is made up, our dream about what they might have said to each other had they been able to look past their differences, but some of the dialogue Vicar Chris and I have come up with is actually taken directly from their speeches or writings. We have tried to be faithful to their theologies and situations while also taking some liberties with what this conversation might have looked like. I invite you to imagine the time and place that David and Luther inhabited, the problems they encountered and the solutions they imagined. How might this glimpse into our religious histories inform your faith and life today?
D- Hey, aren’t you Martin Luther?
L- Why yes, I am. Why do you ask, were you one of my students?
D- Well I was… I mean, I never attended your lectures but I was a big fan… for a while. I even became a pastor of your teachings, but then I kind of came to a different conclusion…
L- How do you mean?
D- Well first I joined up with the Reformed Church.
L- Darn Calvinists!
D- Yeah, that didn’t last long. Then after doing much study of the Gospel and much prayer and reflection, I came to join with the Unitarians.
L- Uh! Unitarians?! You mean you do not believe in the Trinity of God? I know that God is three-personed, and I know that God is with us! You’re a heretic!!
D- Those are pretty strong words coming from you. Weren’t you called a heretic at the Diet of Worms?
L- Hmmm… Well there is that. I guess I was one of the originals, wasn’t I?
D- Yeah, I gotta give you credit for that.
L- But, you know, I was simply defending the faith from its corruption by the Church in Rome. I was protecting those things which have been professed from the beginning—including a Triune God.
D- Professed from the beginning? I’m not so sure about that. There has been disagreement from the beginning. And just because a group of people say its so, doesn’t mean it’s the Truth. I know that God is with us.
L- The only Truth is the word of God. Sola scriptura. The Word alone. As it says at the end of the Holy Gospel according to Matthew, “Jesus came up and spoke to them, saying, “All authority has been given to me in heaven and on earth. Go therefore and make disciples of all the earth, Baptizing them in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.”
D- hmmm… I agree. Whatever the Holy Scriptures tell us about Christ, I reverently embrace. And that’s why I’m a Unitarian. In the gospel of mark chapter 10 Jesus asks the young man, “Why do you call me Good? No one is good, except God alone.”
L- Hmmm….
D- Hmmm….
L- You really are convinced by scripture.
D- Convinced? I know that God is with us. After my tolerant King died and was replaced by one without tolerance for differing religious viewpoints, I was charged with religious innovation. I was convicted, in fact, of preaching a change we could believe in. But my opponents saw it differently, and before I was sentenced to life in prison, I told them, “No lightning, no cross, no sword of the Pope nor the face of death most visible, no power whatever, can stay the progress of Truth.”
L- Sounds familiar. I, too, am convinced. … I know that God is with us. When the Church in Rome confronted me with all my writings and asked me to throw them all to the fire, I told them, “Unless I am convinced by scripture and plain reason, not councils and popes, for they contradict one another, my conscience is captive to the word of God. I could not recant what I proclaimed, for to go against my conscience is neither right nor safe. Here I stand, I can do no other. God Help Me. Amen.”
D- Sounds like we’re going to have to agree to disagree. For it is my belief that we need not think alike to love alike.
L- When love is lost, faith and the Holy Spirit are lost as well. Christ calls us to love our neighbor and our enemies.
D- Its possible even here, between you and I that God is with us… Bartender, another round on me for my friend here. We’re just getting into the heart of things.
L- The heart of things!! The heart is the people. It is my most fervent belief that the people must have access to the word of God in their own language, so that they will not be deceived. For the people’s heart to be full, it must be filled with the Word of God, and not that which is mediated by the vile trappings and false words of foolish priests and corrupt officials.
D-Yes. Without the ability to look for themselves into the word of God people can easily be convinced of false teachings by those in power who abuse religion to maintain their own power.
L-If the people are to be liberated, they must know the word of God in their own tongue. For it is the very Word of God which kills them and makes them alive again.
D- Liberated!! Indeed, the people must be liberated from the corruption of false teachers, from being forced by others to claim a belief in something that goes against their personal conscience. In the end it doesn’t work. No one shall compel them for their souls would not be satisfied. Faith is the gift of God.
L- Faith!! Yes, the people must have faith. Without faith, people cannot recognize the grace of God. Being forced to believe something would make faith—make trust in God’s goodness—into a work—and faith is never about works! Faith is not something brought about by the emotionalism of dogs such as Tetzel, who convinced the average peasant that they must buy salvation for their loved ones. Faith is not bought with gold or silver, neither is it bought by the sweat of our brows as those who claim that works of the law are required for God to love them. No, it is by faith that we are confronted by God’s “yes” to us—God’s gracious love! For God is with us.
D-So we are in agreement. Faith cannot be forced! What kinds of laws do you mean? What laws do others believe are required?
L-All those religious works—those empty prayers—those pilgrimages to far off lands instead of turning to your neighbor right next to you. For, all the works of monks, all their—Nay—for I was a monk myself—all my prayers lobbed to the heights of heaven did not have the same power as changing a single one of my son’s diapers. Fatherhood, I found, is more holy than monkhood. Those! Those are the laws that I call empty. Laws that are performed out of a sense of obligation and not for the sake of others.
D- Holy diaper changing! Luther! The power of life lived for God and neighbor is a powerful thing. Faith in its holiest expression!
L-Holiness—holiness they yell in Rome, but holiness is found in the home, in the works of butchers and mothers and tailors.
D- Oh my!
L-For all of those are vocations—jobs that God has called us to. God calls all people to their tasks, not only pastors. It is through that calling that we as God’s people can respond.
D- Butchers and mothers and tailors, eh? I am with you there. God’s love is for all people, not just the chosen leaders in any church. It is the calling of the people to respond to God’s love faithfully, in how they live their lives. In their jobs, in their families, and in the streets! For God is with us.
L-Amen!
D- Because of my conviction, responding faithfully means to stand up and be true to my conscience and the Word of God in the face of forces that would wish to silence me… Forces like religious intolerance, powerful institutions, and those among us whose hearts have been hardened against hearing the cry of the people.
L-Yes, that is our holy calling Fransis, to stand against powers and principalities for the sake of God’s love.
D-Yes Martin! Stand firm and continue to be faithful to those whom the Reformation of God’s church has been entrusted.
L-Imagine, Francis, what the world could look like if this Reformation takes hold and continues for centuries to come! Barring the coming of Christ, of course, may He Return Swiftly, what might the world look like at the turn of the millennium if God is with us?
D- Ha! 500 more years? Look at the signs of the times! The end is near, Martin, we’ve waited 1500 years for the coming of our Lord. I’m sure He’s coming soon. But I’ll go with your pessimistic hypothetical situation for a moment. Think, if you really succeed with your Reformation, followers of your movement might have more to do with YOU than the piety of Christ, they might even call themselves LUTHERans!
L- Perish the thought. Then again… your people do no better. Your followers in 500 years might not even all be Christians!
D- Impossible! Well… even if that’s so… At least there won’t be women in the pulpit!
L- Amen! Cheers to that.
D- But even with these unforeseen changes, would our people still be faithful? Would God continue to stand on the side of all people who fight for truth, conscience, and love?
L- God willing, even then God is with us.
Christina- (Christina- So here we are, 470 years after this fictional conversation might have taken place, and indeed many things have changed. Today, I’m lucky if anyone has ever even heard of my religion. Most folks assume Unitarian Universalists are a “new age” religion. One that was “made up” about 50 years ago… But that’s not so… We have deep roots. And we honor the faith of our religious fathers.
When I think of Francis David, I see a man inspired by Martin Luther, I see a man inspired by the Word of God. I see a man convinced of the necessity of rationality, I see a man determined, in his words “to defend another person’s right to be wrong.”
I see a man whose commitment to religious freedom and tolerance ultimately got him imprisoned until death. I see a man who was deeply committed to his faith… so committed, in fact, he aligned himself with different traditions in order to find what was most authentic to his conscience.
I see the faces of my congregation in Annapolis in the legacy of Francis David.
I see Francis in the commitment to tolerance within my tradition.
I see Francis in the theist and the atheist sitting beside each other in the pews, or engaging in heartfelt discussion, agreeing to disagree.
I see Francis in the democratic process by which our faith is organized.
I see Francis in the commitment of Unitarian Universalists to speak out against injustice, to work to end racism, to fight for marriage equality, and to engage in interfaith dialogue, even though it is not the easy or popular thing to do.
I see Francis in my people, and I see Francis here, in this room, as we engage together across traditions and faiths.
Chris-
Many Lutherans, when they think of Martin Luther, think of his death mask in Germany—a capturing of the reformer’s face and hands upon his death. To some that is his legacy—a man from the past who we can, in effect, idolize.
I do not see dear Martin that way.
No. I see a man humble enough to change his mind about the most central thing in his life, his faith.
I see a man both convicted and convinced by the Word of God—a man shaken by the death and by the new life that he experienced upon recognizing that the thrust of God’s righteousness is that God’s for us, not against us. God is with us!
I see a man caught up by this gracious yes to us—a man transformed by this experience and willing to spread this good news about God’s amazing grace by all means necessary.
I see a man so in love with the Word of God that he can not help but bring it to the people—a man who translated the bible so everyone could read it—a man putting the theology that saved his soul to the music of bar tunes and other popular music of his day so that that theology would spread.
And I see that man here today! I see the faith of our spiritual Father Martin Luther here today!
When I see Uriah playing music that both sings to the soul of today and speaks a word of hope for tomorrow. I see Martin. I see the faith of our fathers. And I know God is with us!
When I see Doris, Garry, Mr. McCreedy, and the Cottrells sitting around a plastic fold-up-table opening up the word of God. I see Martin. I see the faith of our fathers. And I know God is with us!
When the entire assembly speaks St. John’s mission statement, “Spreading the Gospel, Sharing the Spirit, and Serving our Community.” I see Martin. I see the faith of our fathers. And I know God is with us!
When I see our newest members reveling in the righteousness that God has given them. I see Martin. I see the faith of our fathers. And I know God is with us!
When I see lives changed by the power of the Gospel. When I see the effects of our faith. I see Martin. I see the faith of our fathers. And I know God is with us!
On this father’s day I see the faith of our fathers. Holy faith. We will be true to thee till death. Faith of our fathers, living still. In spite of dungeon, fire and sword. O how our hearts beat high with joy—whenever we hear that glorious word!” Amen and Alleluia.
Faith of our Fathers… hymn number X in the African American Heritage Hymnal. Hymn number X, Faith of our Fathers.
What follows is the version we preached at St. John's about a month ago.
“A Unitarian and a Lutheran Walk into a Bar”
St. John’s (Chris’s Intro)- Greetings brothers and sisters.
It is my pleasure to introduce Christina Leone, the intern minister of the Unitarian Universalist Church of Annapolis. During my time here at St. John’s Christina has been a sounding board about being a religious leader, a peer in ministry, and a friend. Despite our theological differences we have found commonalities as well. This sermon is the result of this ongoing conversation.
Today I will be representing Martin Luther, whose name our tradition still carries. Martin was a Roman Catholic monk in the 16th century who faced controversial practices within his faith, such as the selling of indulgences, which we demonstrated in the Youth Sermon, as well as teachings that obscured God’s grace. As he learned Greek and Hebrew, the original languages of the Bible, he became convinced that the word of God must be translated into a language people understood. Eventually he was declared a heretic and started a reform movement that focused on the Bible, allowed ministers to marry, and worked to eliminate corruption in the church.
St. John’s (Christina’s Intro)- Good morning. I am Christina Leone, as Vicar Chris mentioned. I bring greetings from my church in Annapolis. In this sermon I will play the part of Francis David, the 16th century Polish reformer who spent some time as a Catholic, a Lutheran minister, a Calvinist bishop, and finally, a Unitarian minister. As a Unitarian he eventually came to serve in the court of the Transylvanian King John Sigismund during a time of religious upheaval. There were debates over what the official religion of Transylvania should be, and Francis David convinced King John, rather than declaring one official religion and persecuting those who did not follow it, to instead issue an Edict of Toleration that permitted freedom of thought and belief across the land. Unfortunately King John only lived a few more years and was succeeded by a less open-minded king who imprisoned David for his faith and his teachings. My people look to Francis David as one of the earliest teachers of our beliefs… the belief in a unified God as opposed to the Trinity, as well as the importance of freedom, reason, and tolerance.
Francis David and Martin Luther lived around the same time, though Luther was about 30 years older than David, and this sermon is the fictional account of what might have happened if they met in a bar in 1540. The majority of this sermon conversation is made up, our dream about what they might have said to each other had they been able to look past their differences, but some of the dialogue Vicar Chris and I have come up with is actually taken directly from their speeches or writings. We have tried to be faithful to their theologies and situations while also taking some liberties with what this conversation might have looked like. I invite you to imagine the time and place that David and Luther inhabited, the problems they encountered and the solutions they imagined. How might this glimpse into our religious histories inform your faith and life today?
D- Hey, aren’t you Martin Luther?
L- Why yes, I am. Why do you ask, were you one of my students?
D- Well I was… I mean, I never attended your lectures but I was a big fan… for a while. I even became a pastor of your teachings, but then I kind of came to a different conclusion…
L- How do you mean?
D- Well first I joined up with the Reformed Church.
L- Darn Calvinists!
D- Yeah, that didn’t last long. Then after doing much study of the Gospel and much prayer and reflection, I came to join with the Unitarians.
L- Uh! Unitarians?! You mean you do not believe in the Trinity of God? I know that God is three-personed, and I know that God is with us! You’re a heretic!!
D- Those are pretty strong words coming from you. Weren’t you called a heretic at the Diet of Worms?
L- Hmmm… Well there is that. I guess I was one of the originals, wasn’t I?
D- Yeah, I gotta give you credit for that.
L- But, you know, I was simply defending the faith from its corruption by the Church in Rome. I was protecting those things which have been professed from the beginning—including a Triune God.
D- Professed from the beginning? I’m not so sure about that. There has been disagreement from the beginning. And just because a group of people say its so, doesn’t mean it’s the Truth. I know that God is with us.
L- The only Truth is the word of God. Sola scriptura. The Word alone. As it says at the end of the Holy Gospel according to Matthew, “Jesus came up and spoke to them, saying, “All authority has been given to me in heaven and on earth. Go therefore and make disciples of all the earth, Baptizing them in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.”
D- hmmm… I agree. Whatever the Holy Scriptures tell us about Christ, I reverently embrace. And that’s why I’m a Unitarian. In the gospel of mark chapter 10 Jesus asks the young man, “Why do you call me Good? No one is good, except God alone.”
L- Hmmm….
D- Hmmm….
L- You really are convinced by scripture.
D- Convinced? I know that God is with us. After my tolerant King died and was replaced by one without tolerance for differing religious viewpoints, I was charged with religious innovation. I was convicted, in fact, of preaching a change we could believe in. But my opponents saw it differently, and before I was sentenced to life in prison, I told them, “No lightning, no cross, no sword of the Pope nor the face of death most visible, no power whatever, can stay the progress of Truth.”
L- Sounds familiar. I, too, am convinced. … I know that God is with us. When the Church in Rome confronted me with all my writings and asked me to throw them all to the fire, I told them, “Unless I am convinced by scripture and plain reason, not councils and popes, for they contradict one another, my conscience is captive to the word of God. I could not recant what I proclaimed, for to go against my conscience is neither right nor safe. Here I stand, I can do no other. God Help Me. Amen.”
D- Sounds like we’re going to have to agree to disagree. For it is my belief that we need not think alike to love alike.
L- When love is lost, faith and the Holy Spirit are lost as well. Christ calls us to love our neighbor and our enemies.
D- Its possible even here, between you and I that God is with us… Bartender, another round on me for my friend here. We’re just getting into the heart of things.
L- The heart of things!! The heart is the people. It is my most fervent belief that the people must have access to the word of God in their own language, so that they will not be deceived. For the people’s heart to be full, it must be filled with the Word of God, and not that which is mediated by the vile trappings and false words of foolish priests and corrupt officials.
D-Yes. Without the ability to look for themselves into the word of God people can easily be convinced of false teachings by those in power who abuse religion to maintain their own power.
L-If the people are to be liberated, they must know the word of God in their own tongue. For it is the very Word of God which kills them and makes them alive again.
D- Liberated!! Indeed, the people must be liberated from the corruption of false teachers, from being forced by others to claim a belief in something that goes against their personal conscience. In the end it doesn’t work. No one shall compel them for their souls would not be satisfied. Faith is the gift of God.
L- Faith!! Yes, the people must have faith. Without faith, people cannot recognize the grace of God. Being forced to believe something would make faith—make trust in God’s goodness—into a work—and faith is never about works! Faith is not something brought about by the emotionalism of dogs such as Tetzel, who convinced the average peasant that they must buy salvation for their loved ones. Faith is not bought with gold or silver, neither is it bought by the sweat of our brows as those who claim that works of the law are required for God to love them. No, it is by faith that we are confronted by God’s “yes” to us—God’s gracious love! For God is with us.
D-So we are in agreement. Faith cannot be forced! What kinds of laws do you mean? What laws do others believe are required?
L-All those religious works—those empty prayers—those pilgrimages to far off lands instead of turning to your neighbor right next to you. For, all the works of monks, all their—Nay—for I was a monk myself—all my prayers lobbed to the heights of heaven did not have the same power as changing a single one of my son’s diapers. Fatherhood, I found, is more holy than monkhood. Those! Those are the laws that I call empty. Laws that are performed out of a sense of obligation and not for the sake of others.
D- Holy diaper changing! Luther! The power of life lived for God and neighbor is a powerful thing. Faith in its holiest expression!
L-Holiness—holiness they yell in Rome, but holiness is found in the home, in the works of butchers and mothers and tailors.
D- Oh my!
L-For all of those are vocations—jobs that God has called us to. God calls all people to their tasks, not only pastors. It is through that calling that we as God’s people can respond.
D- Butchers and mothers and tailors, eh? I am with you there. God’s love is for all people, not just the chosen leaders in any church. It is the calling of the people to respond to God’s love faithfully, in how they live their lives. In their jobs, in their families, and in the streets! For God is with us.
L-Amen!
D- Because of my conviction, responding faithfully means to stand up and be true to my conscience and the Word of God in the face of forces that would wish to silence me… Forces like religious intolerance, powerful institutions, and those among us whose hearts have been hardened against hearing the cry of the people.
L-Yes, that is our holy calling Fransis, to stand against powers and principalities for the sake of God’s love.
D-Yes Martin! Stand firm and continue to be faithful to those whom the Reformation of God’s church has been entrusted.
L-Imagine, Francis, what the world could look like if this Reformation takes hold and continues for centuries to come! Barring the coming of Christ, of course, may He Return Swiftly, what might the world look like at the turn of the millennium if God is with us?
D- Ha! 500 more years? Look at the signs of the times! The end is near, Martin, we’ve waited 1500 years for the coming of our Lord. I’m sure He’s coming soon. But I’ll go with your pessimistic hypothetical situation for a moment. Think, if you really succeed with your Reformation, followers of your movement might have more to do with YOU than the piety of Christ, they might even call themselves LUTHERans!
L- Perish the thought. Then again… your people do no better. Your followers in 500 years might not even all be Christians!
D- Impossible! Well… even if that’s so… At least there won’t be women in the pulpit!
L- Amen! Cheers to that.
D- But even with these unforeseen changes, would our people still be faithful? Would God continue to stand on the side of all people who fight for truth, conscience, and love?
L- God willing, even then God is with us.
Christina- (Christina- So here we are, 470 years after this fictional conversation might have taken place, and indeed many things have changed. Today, I’m lucky if anyone has ever even heard of my religion. Most folks assume Unitarian Universalists are a “new age” religion. One that was “made up” about 50 years ago… But that’s not so… We have deep roots. And we honor the faith of our religious fathers.
When I think of Francis David, I see a man inspired by Martin Luther, I see a man inspired by the Word of God. I see a man convinced of the necessity of rationality, I see a man determined, in his words “to defend another person’s right to be wrong.”
I see a man whose commitment to religious freedom and tolerance ultimately got him imprisoned until death. I see a man who was deeply committed to his faith… so committed, in fact, he aligned himself with different traditions in order to find what was most authentic to his conscience.
I see the faces of my congregation in Annapolis in the legacy of Francis David.
I see Francis in the commitment to tolerance within my tradition.
I see Francis in the theist and the atheist sitting beside each other in the pews, or engaging in heartfelt discussion, agreeing to disagree.
I see Francis in the democratic process by which our faith is organized.
I see Francis in the commitment of Unitarian Universalists to speak out against injustice, to work to end racism, to fight for marriage equality, and to engage in interfaith dialogue, even though it is not the easy or popular thing to do.
I see Francis in my people, and I see Francis here, in this room, as we engage together across traditions and faiths.
Chris-
Many Lutherans, when they think of Martin Luther, think of his death mask in Germany—a capturing of the reformer’s face and hands upon his death. To some that is his legacy—a man from the past who we can, in effect, idolize.
I do not see dear Martin that way.
No. I see a man humble enough to change his mind about the most central thing in his life, his faith.
I see a man both convicted and convinced by the Word of God—a man shaken by the death and by the new life that he experienced upon recognizing that the thrust of God’s righteousness is that God’s for us, not against us. God is with us!
I see a man caught up by this gracious yes to us—a man transformed by this experience and willing to spread this good news about God’s amazing grace by all means necessary.
I see a man so in love with the Word of God that he can not help but bring it to the people—a man who translated the bible so everyone could read it—a man putting the theology that saved his soul to the music of bar tunes and other popular music of his day so that that theology would spread.
And I see that man here today! I see the faith of our spiritual Father Martin Luther here today!
When I see Uriah playing music that both sings to the soul of today and speaks a word of hope for tomorrow. I see Martin. I see the faith of our fathers. And I know God is with us!
When I see Doris, Garry, Mr. McCreedy, and the Cottrells sitting around a plastic fold-up-table opening up the word of God. I see Martin. I see the faith of our fathers. And I know God is with us!
When the entire assembly speaks St. John’s mission statement, “Spreading the Gospel, Sharing the Spirit, and Serving our Community.” I see Martin. I see the faith of our fathers. And I know God is with us!
When I see our newest members reveling in the righteousness that God has given them. I see Martin. I see the faith of our fathers. And I know God is with us!
When I see lives changed by the power of the Gospel. When I see the effects of our faith. I see Martin. I see the faith of our fathers. And I know God is with us!
On this father’s day I see the faith of our fathers. Holy faith. We will be true to thee till death. Faith of our fathers, living still. In spite of dungeon, fire and sword. O how our hearts beat high with joy—whenever we hear that glorious word!” Amen and Alleluia.
Faith of our Fathers… hymn number X in the African American Heritage Hymnal. Hymn number X, Faith of our Fathers.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Sermon: Loving neighbor is a how question, not a who question
Loving neighbor is a how question, not a who question
As some of you may know the final match of the World Cup will be going on this afternoon. Spain will be playing the Netherlands. And some people are very excited to know who will win. Some people are so excited in fact, that they are looking everywhere for predictions about who is going to win. In fact an Octopus in Germany has predicted that the Spanish will beat the Dutch.
In Singapore a Parakeet made different predictions. It predicted that the Dutch soccer team will beat the Spanish.
I have a slightly different prediction to make today.
I predict that this afternoon there will be a Spaniard and a Dutchman traveling by boat hoping to make it to the last match of the World Cup in South Africa. The boat will strike a rock, and slowly began to sink.
The Spaniard will say, “I’ll call the Spanish embassy, they’ll send someone to help us.”
“No,” the Dutchman will reply, “I’ll call the Dutch embassy. They’ll get someone right out here to help us.”
And so it will go, both men refusing to allow the other one to call on their country to save the boat. And it will sink. And they will die.
When the wreckage is explored it will be said, “if only they had cared less about who was going to save them and more about how they were going to be saved.”
You may remember that during Lent I preached a sermon about Jesus’ injunction, “blessed be those who suffer.” And, when discussing suffering I suggested God takes the mournful question mark behind the word how? and straightens it up and makes it into an exclamation point behind the word who!
Today, however, I would suggest, when confronted with a command to love our neighbor we must ask how questions, not who questions. When confronted with a command to love our neighbor, we must ask how questions, not who questions.
Let us pray:
Lord, please anoint the preacher’s lips, that his words might be true and well heard. Lord, please anoint the assembly, that their meditations might be faithful and their responses right.--Amen.
Today, Jesus is asked the question, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?”
Jesus, responds with his own question, “What does it say in scripture? How do you read our tradition?” He is, in a sense, asking the lawyer, “Why do you ask that question?”
The Lawyer’s response is not unusual, he thinks back to the second verse of the Jewish morning and evening prayer known as the Shema, “Here o Israel the Lord our God, the Lord, is one. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might.”
To which he adds from Leviticus, “You shall not take vengeance or bear any grudge against the sons of your own people, but you shall love your neighbor as yourself.”
And that could have ended the discussion right there. Jesus answers, “yup. So go on and love God with your whole self and love your neighbor as yourself.”
But, the Lawyer insists upon asking the who question.
“Who,” he asks, “is my neighbor?”
“Who,” he asks, “must I love as myself?”
“Who,” he asks, “must I love to gain eternal life?”
But Jesus takes this question about eternal life—this who question—and takes it out of the abstract—he solidifies, “love your neighbor as yourself,” in story.
After all, “Once upon a time,” is a more effective instructor than, “thou shalt not,” or even, “thou shalt.”
He takes this lofty concept and lowers it onto a road—the Road from Jerusalem to Jericho.
This road was infamous.
This road was known as “the bloody path” for at least 500 years by the time Jesus placed his parable there.
This road was where the last king of Judah watched his sons be slaughtered by the Babylonians before they blinded him and bore him away to Babylon.
This road, in 17 miles, goes down 3,300 feet.
This road winds and twists, gets narrow, and is an easy place from which to ambush someone.
This road, was a dangerous road and a deadly place to ponder earning eternal life.
For that matter Jesus answers the “who question” very clearly and very concretely. “Who must I love to inherit eternal life?”
Who? The bloody carcass of a man mangled on a dangerous road—he is your neighbor.
Who? A man stripped naked, so you can’t tell if he’s your kin or not—he is your neighbor.
Who? A man without any means to repay you—he is your neighbor.
Acting merciful in the midst of death and danger—that’s how Jesus answers the eternal life question and the who question. When you can’t even tell who it is you’re helping and you help them anyway—that’s when you know you’re loving your neighbor.
But he doesn’t stop there.
He then turns to those who ask the who question,
and shows how the who question leaves men stranded and dying on deadly roads.
The Priest asked the who question, “Who is that there, is he dead? Who is he? Is he Israelite? Who will ambush me if I try to help him?”
He then decides that he’ll go to the other side to be on the “safe side.”
The Levite asks the same questions—the who questions. And he too decides to go to the other side in order to be on the “safe side.”
Then—to add insult to injury—the man who helps the injured man—the man who doesn’t ask the who question—is a Samaritan!
Now, that might not strike us as odd… after all we know this story as “The Parable of the Good Samaritan.” But at that time, and at that place, there was no such thing as a good Samaritan.
I could tell you all the historical reasons for Samaritans being considered bad news to 1st century Jews—but I think the startling nature of Jesus’ story can be made in another way—by placing him into our present social and historical context—by sticking him here and now.
In Palestine Jesus’ story would be titled “The Good Israeli.”
At ground Zero, where the World Trade Center once stood, the story’s title would be “The Good Terrorist.”
Amongst Crips the story would be entitled, “The Good Blood.”
To the Cleveland Cavaliers… the story would be entitled, “LeBron James.”
The hero of Jesus’ story—the one that doesn’t ask who—is a Samaritan.
And this Samaritan asks a different question, he asks how. “How am I going to help this man?”
And his actions answer this question loudly. He becomes personally involved. He personally binds up wounds, he gives of his oil and his wine, he puts the wounded man on—as scripture emphasizes, “his own beast” and gives of his own monies.
When confronted by someone broken by the conflicts and snares of this world—by banditry and by pain—he did not ask who is that? Is that person worth helping?
No!
He asked, “How can I help him? What resources do I have, or do I know of, that can help that person!”
And once Jesus finished up his parable, he asked another question of the Lawyer. Because you see the Lawyer was busy asking who is my neighbor. So Jesus asked a different question—“Which of these three was neighborly to the man who fell among the robbers? Which one was neighborly to his neighbor?”
Sheepishly the Lawyer must admit, “the one showing mercy on him.” Jesus isn’t concerned with who the neighbor is—he’s concerned with how we treat the neighbor. He is concerned with showing mercy in the midst of death and danger!
And so, I would like to make another prediction about this afternoon.
This afternoon there will be a Spaniard and a Dutchman traveling by boat hoping to make it to the last match of the World Cup in South Africa. The boat will strike a rock, and slowly began to sink.
And they will make a call to the coast of South Africa, and the only people they can get a hold of will be a Uruguayan and a German.
And they will say, “I don’t know if you want to help us. After all our soccer teams beat your soccer teams.”
And to this the Uruguayan and the German will respond, “We don’t care who you are. All we care about is how we can save your life!”
And with that they will rush to the scene and save the day. Because when confronted with a command to love our neighbor, we must ask how questions, not who questions. A+A
As some of you may know the final match of the World Cup will be going on this afternoon. Spain will be playing the Netherlands. And some people are very excited to know who will win. Some people are so excited in fact, that they are looking everywhere for predictions about who is going to win. In fact an Octopus in Germany has predicted that the Spanish will beat the Dutch.
In Singapore a Parakeet made different predictions. It predicted that the Dutch soccer team will beat the Spanish.
I have a slightly different prediction to make today.
I predict that this afternoon there will be a Spaniard and a Dutchman traveling by boat hoping to make it to the last match of the World Cup in South Africa. The boat will strike a rock, and slowly began to sink.
The Spaniard will say, “I’ll call the Spanish embassy, they’ll send someone to help us.”
“No,” the Dutchman will reply, “I’ll call the Dutch embassy. They’ll get someone right out here to help us.”
And so it will go, both men refusing to allow the other one to call on their country to save the boat. And it will sink. And they will die.
When the wreckage is explored it will be said, “if only they had cared less about who was going to save them and more about how they were going to be saved.”
You may remember that during Lent I preached a sermon about Jesus’ injunction, “blessed be those who suffer.” And, when discussing suffering I suggested God takes the mournful question mark behind the word how? and straightens it up and makes it into an exclamation point behind the word who!
Today, however, I would suggest, when confronted with a command to love our neighbor we must ask how questions, not who questions. When confronted with a command to love our neighbor, we must ask how questions, not who questions.
Let us pray:
Lord, please anoint the preacher’s lips, that his words might be true and well heard. Lord, please anoint the assembly, that their meditations might be faithful and their responses right.--Amen.
Today, Jesus is asked the question, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?”
Jesus, responds with his own question, “What does it say in scripture? How do you read our tradition?” He is, in a sense, asking the lawyer, “Why do you ask that question?”
The Lawyer’s response is not unusual, he thinks back to the second verse of the Jewish morning and evening prayer known as the Shema, “Here o Israel the Lord our God, the Lord, is one. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might.”
To which he adds from Leviticus, “You shall not take vengeance or bear any grudge against the sons of your own people, but you shall love your neighbor as yourself.”
And that could have ended the discussion right there. Jesus answers, “yup. So go on and love God with your whole self and love your neighbor as yourself.”
But, the Lawyer insists upon asking the who question.
“Who,” he asks, “is my neighbor?”
“Who,” he asks, “must I love as myself?”
“Who,” he asks, “must I love to gain eternal life?”
But Jesus takes this question about eternal life—this who question—and takes it out of the abstract—he solidifies, “love your neighbor as yourself,” in story.
After all, “Once upon a time,” is a more effective instructor than, “thou shalt not,” or even, “thou shalt.”
He takes this lofty concept and lowers it onto a road—the Road from Jerusalem to Jericho.
This road was infamous.
This road was known as “the bloody path” for at least 500 years by the time Jesus placed his parable there.
This road was where the last king of Judah watched his sons be slaughtered by the Babylonians before they blinded him and bore him away to Babylon.
This road, in 17 miles, goes down 3,300 feet.
This road winds and twists, gets narrow, and is an easy place from which to ambush someone.
This road, was a dangerous road and a deadly place to ponder earning eternal life.
For that matter Jesus answers the “who question” very clearly and very concretely. “Who must I love to inherit eternal life?”
Who? The bloody carcass of a man mangled on a dangerous road—he is your neighbor.
Who? A man stripped naked, so you can’t tell if he’s your kin or not—he is your neighbor.
Who? A man without any means to repay you—he is your neighbor.
Acting merciful in the midst of death and danger—that’s how Jesus answers the eternal life question and the who question. When you can’t even tell who it is you’re helping and you help them anyway—that’s when you know you’re loving your neighbor.
But he doesn’t stop there.
He then turns to those who ask the who question,
and shows how the who question leaves men stranded and dying on deadly roads.
The Priest asked the who question, “Who is that there, is he dead? Who is he? Is he Israelite? Who will ambush me if I try to help him?”
He then decides that he’ll go to the other side to be on the “safe side.”
The Levite asks the same questions—the who questions. And he too decides to go to the other side in order to be on the “safe side.”
Then—to add insult to injury—the man who helps the injured man—the man who doesn’t ask the who question—is a Samaritan!
Now, that might not strike us as odd… after all we know this story as “The Parable of the Good Samaritan.” But at that time, and at that place, there was no such thing as a good Samaritan.
I could tell you all the historical reasons for Samaritans being considered bad news to 1st century Jews—but I think the startling nature of Jesus’ story can be made in another way—by placing him into our present social and historical context—by sticking him here and now.
In Palestine Jesus’ story would be titled “The Good Israeli.”
At ground Zero, where the World Trade Center once stood, the story’s title would be “The Good Terrorist.”
Amongst Crips the story would be entitled, “The Good Blood.”
To the Cleveland Cavaliers… the story would be entitled, “LeBron James.”
The hero of Jesus’ story—the one that doesn’t ask who—is a Samaritan.
And this Samaritan asks a different question, he asks how. “How am I going to help this man?”
And his actions answer this question loudly. He becomes personally involved. He personally binds up wounds, he gives of his oil and his wine, he puts the wounded man on—as scripture emphasizes, “his own beast” and gives of his own monies.
When confronted by someone broken by the conflicts and snares of this world—by banditry and by pain—he did not ask who is that? Is that person worth helping?
No!
He asked, “How can I help him? What resources do I have, or do I know of, that can help that person!”
And once Jesus finished up his parable, he asked another question of the Lawyer. Because you see the Lawyer was busy asking who is my neighbor. So Jesus asked a different question—“Which of these three was neighborly to the man who fell among the robbers? Which one was neighborly to his neighbor?”
Sheepishly the Lawyer must admit, “the one showing mercy on him.” Jesus isn’t concerned with who the neighbor is—he’s concerned with how we treat the neighbor. He is concerned with showing mercy in the midst of death and danger!
And so, I would like to make another prediction about this afternoon.
This afternoon there will be a Spaniard and a Dutchman traveling by boat hoping to make it to the last match of the World Cup in South Africa. The boat will strike a rock, and slowly began to sink.
And they will make a call to the coast of South Africa, and the only people they can get a hold of will be a Uruguayan and a German.
And they will say, “I don’t know if you want to help us. After all our soccer teams beat your soccer teams.”
And to this the Uruguayan and the German will respond, “We don’t care who you are. All we care about is how we can save your life!”
And with that they will rush to the scene and save the day. Because when confronted with a command to love our neighbor, we must ask how questions, not who questions. A+A
Sunday, July 04, 2010
Sermon: Mission/Baltimore
The Baltimore Folk
Greetings in the name of Jesus.
What do you think of when you hear the word mission? When you hear of the term Evangelism?
For many these words bring up the image of Jehovah’s Witnesses knocking on doors two by two—interrupting dinner and being mildly annoying. Or young Mormon men bungling awkwardly though their first forays into the big bad world.
For others a more sinister cloud overshadows the word mission. They think of the troubling history of conversion by the sword. They think of conquistadores conquering continents in the name of Christ, but for the goal of gold.
Still others, many pastors especially, think of the words mission and evangelism as buzzwords used by church-growth gurus to make them feel insecure about the ministry they are doing. They are words that cause the number of people sitting in pews to replace relationships with the people in the pews.
And yet, despite all of this, the church is always called to mission.
Jesus, standing at the Jordon River—John the Baptist next to him, Spirit and dove diving upon him—was driven into the wilderness, but then driven to Galilee and to mission, to the proclamation of the Kingdom of God—saying that, “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captive and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”
Then Jesus calls the twelve to mission, to the proclamation of the closeness of the Kingdom of God—giving them authority over demons and disease.
Last week Jesus told his disciples of the raw uncertainty that goes with mission, about how you become like foxes without holes and birds without nests—all to proclaim the closeness of the kingdom.
And in today’s lesson the 72 are sent out in danger and hope, freely furthering peace, healing the sick, and wielding great power with a humble heart. Because then, as today, the church is always called to mission!
And today I would like to focus our imaginations upon one particular set of the 72—I would like us to consider one particular set of laborers, one particular set of lambs amongst wolves. Today, as we recognize that the church is always called to mission, I would like to consider the mission of those that Jesus has appointed to go ahead of him to the town of Baltimore.
Let us pray:
Dear Jesus, Lord of the Church, may the words that pass through my lips enlighten the hearts of the hearers, move them to mission, and proclaim your word to us this day.—Amen.
Imagine, the scene. The 12 disciples have lined us all up, two by two. Its like we’re animals headed to an Ark.
Then Jesus walks down the line of would be missionaries. He looks at the first group, and says, “Jerusalem.”
Someone in the back says, “Damn, I wanted Jerusalem.”
And he says to the next set of people, “Samaria,” and to the next, “Decapolis,” and to the one after that “Tyre.”
Then he gets to you and me, and says, “Baltimore.”
And with that there is an audible gasp.
The church is always called to mission, and our calling is to Baltimore.
Jesus calls out the remaining 31 cities and regions he is appointing people to go to. But you and I don’t really pay close attention to where everyone else is going to, because our minds are dwelling deeply on Baltimore.
We think, “My God! There is so much to be done there. The population continues to decline, but the problems continue to increase. There are fewer churches there, being forced to do more with less! There are so many people in need!”
And Jesus speaks to that, saying, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.” It is almost a blessing of scarcity. It is as if he’s saying, “Thank God that there is a lot of ministry to be done. Thank God that you’re called to mission in a place that needs it!”
“but,” we think, “Baltimore is a dangerous place. In the last 10 days police seized 76 illegal guns.
That’s more guns than there are people standing in this line two by two!
That’s more guns than missionaries!”
And Jesus acknowledges that. He says, “I am sending you out like lambs into the midst of wolves.” Mission, he states, involves physical danger—yes, but—he warns us—it involves personal danger as well.
It involves putting yourself out there. Being church—doing mission—involves other people!
It involves committing time and emotion.
It involves money and talents.
It involves giving of oneself!
It involves becoming involved!
“But,” Jesus quickly adds, in case we missed the other half—the positive side—of being lambs amongst wolves, because sometimes we Christians miss Jesus’ references to Hebrew Scripture.
“When I’m talking about wolves and lambs,” he says, “I am quoting the prophet Isaiah. When I’m talking about wolves and lambs I am quoting his description of the world re-ordered by God—the world as it should be and as it will be”
He states that, “the wolf and the lamb shall feed together, the lion shall eat straw like the ox; and the serpent—its food will be dust! There will be no hurt or destruction on my holy mountain.”
So, Jesus is not just saying “I’m sending you out into danger.
He is also saying, “I’m sending you into the dangerous world in order to be a model of the world as it should be.”
“Mission is not war-time-heroics, ‘sneaking behind enemy lines,’ but living without an enemy—pre-figuring the possibility of the gospel.
The mission Jesus calls us to be, is, to borrow an overused phrase, to “be the change we wish to see in the world.”
“And that change we wish to see is peace… you will say peace to this house.”
“But,” we say quietly to ourselves, hoping our Lord doesn’t hear, “the world that we see is violent—the United States, the country Baltimore is located in—is at war in two countries and flying armed unmanned drones above several more. Its not a peaceful place. Being here with Jesus is peaceful, but how could we share such a peace with such a war-like people? I don’t want to lose the peace of Jesus that I have by interacting with Americans.”
To this Jesus responds, “Say peace to this house. And if anyone is there who shares peace—who is a child of peace—you and they will share in peacefulness—but if they are all war-like the peace I have given to you will return to you. But if you are serious about this mission thing… and that the church is always called to mission… you have to be willing to risk your peace for the sake of sharing peace!
“And further,” he adds, “when I say peace I do not simply mean the absence of war.”
“I mean the peace of God—the wholeness, the good news and release, the freedom and the sight—that God gives to me and I in turn give to you that you might give it freely to others!”
Yet sadly, before Jesus can even end the speaking of his eloquent words you and I are already asking the same question again, “but what are the costs of this? Do Baltimoreans deserve to know the good news of the kingdom of God? For that matter what happens if they reject us? What if they don’t care for the healing and wholeness that is the mission of the church? What if they don’t care for the Kingdom of God?”
To this Jesus responds, “You still have to tell them that the Kingdom of God has come near! Sure, wipe off the soil of Baltimore—kick the concrete and asvault out of the treds in your sneakers, but still be the prophecy of Isaiah—still let them know the demands and the right rule of God! Still let them know about the Kingdom.”
And with that we went out.
We traveled to Baltimore.
We followed the church’s calling to mission.
We lived into the danger and hope of Baltimore.
We built up a center that serves 100’s of children—a peaceful place for them here in Park Heights.
We made space for those recovering from addiction to wrestle with their demons and find the wholeness that is of God.
We visited the sick,
we provided food for those that hunger, for that is the Rule of God and the Kingdom of God.
You and I, appointed by the Lord to go ahead of Him to Baltimore, have done great things.
We have embodied the gospel, as is our calling.
Wolves have been won over.
We stepped upon the backs of snakes, scorpions, and all that which would seek to harm people.
We subdued demons and throw down Satan.
But, just in case we get so wrapped up in our calling. Just in case the church weds itself to mission and falls in love with the power of throwing down the Powers of Sin, Death, and the Devil. Just in case, Jesus comes to us one last time.
He says, “Don’t rejoice at all of this. Rejoice that your name is written in heaven.” I believe words like Mission and Evangelism—as over-used and miss-used as they are—are important… I believe the Church is always called to mission,
and its an amazing mission—I believe it is a mission that can protect the vulnerable, heal the broken, and save the soul of this world, this nation, and this city
Nonetheless, in doing this mission we must not forget whose mission it is. In this calling we must not forget who has called us.
We protect because we are being protected,
we heal because we are being healed and
we save because we are being saved.
Because, “God has smiled on me, he has set me free. God has smiled on me, He’s been good to me.” (Hymn 152 in the AAHH)
Greetings in the name of Jesus.
What do you think of when you hear the word mission? When you hear of the term Evangelism?
For many these words bring up the image of Jehovah’s Witnesses knocking on doors two by two—interrupting dinner and being mildly annoying. Or young Mormon men bungling awkwardly though their first forays into the big bad world.
For others a more sinister cloud overshadows the word mission. They think of the troubling history of conversion by the sword. They think of conquistadores conquering continents in the name of Christ, but for the goal of gold.
Still others, many pastors especially, think of the words mission and evangelism as buzzwords used by church-growth gurus to make them feel insecure about the ministry they are doing. They are words that cause the number of people sitting in pews to replace relationships with the people in the pews.
And yet, despite all of this, the church is always called to mission.
Jesus, standing at the Jordon River—John the Baptist next to him, Spirit and dove diving upon him—was driven into the wilderness, but then driven to Galilee and to mission, to the proclamation of the Kingdom of God—saying that, “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captive and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”
Then Jesus calls the twelve to mission, to the proclamation of the closeness of the Kingdom of God—giving them authority over demons and disease.
Last week Jesus told his disciples of the raw uncertainty that goes with mission, about how you become like foxes without holes and birds without nests—all to proclaim the closeness of the kingdom.
And in today’s lesson the 72 are sent out in danger and hope, freely furthering peace, healing the sick, and wielding great power with a humble heart. Because then, as today, the church is always called to mission!
And today I would like to focus our imaginations upon one particular set of the 72—I would like us to consider one particular set of laborers, one particular set of lambs amongst wolves. Today, as we recognize that the church is always called to mission, I would like to consider the mission of those that Jesus has appointed to go ahead of him to the town of Baltimore.
Let us pray:
Dear Jesus, Lord of the Church, may the words that pass through my lips enlighten the hearts of the hearers, move them to mission, and proclaim your word to us this day.—Amen.
Imagine, the scene. The 12 disciples have lined us all up, two by two. Its like we’re animals headed to an Ark.
Then Jesus walks down the line of would be missionaries. He looks at the first group, and says, “Jerusalem.”
Someone in the back says, “Damn, I wanted Jerusalem.”
And he says to the next set of people, “Samaria,” and to the next, “Decapolis,” and to the one after that “Tyre.”
Then he gets to you and me, and says, “Baltimore.”
And with that there is an audible gasp.
The church is always called to mission, and our calling is to Baltimore.
Jesus calls out the remaining 31 cities and regions he is appointing people to go to. But you and I don’t really pay close attention to where everyone else is going to, because our minds are dwelling deeply on Baltimore.
We think, “My God! There is so much to be done there. The population continues to decline, but the problems continue to increase. There are fewer churches there, being forced to do more with less! There are so many people in need!”
And Jesus speaks to that, saying, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.” It is almost a blessing of scarcity. It is as if he’s saying, “Thank God that there is a lot of ministry to be done. Thank God that you’re called to mission in a place that needs it!”
“but,” we think, “Baltimore is a dangerous place. In the last 10 days police seized 76 illegal guns.
That’s more guns than there are people standing in this line two by two!
That’s more guns than missionaries!”
And Jesus acknowledges that. He says, “I am sending you out like lambs into the midst of wolves.” Mission, he states, involves physical danger—yes, but—he warns us—it involves personal danger as well.
It involves putting yourself out there. Being church—doing mission—involves other people!
It involves committing time and emotion.
It involves money and talents.
It involves giving of oneself!
It involves becoming involved!
“But,” Jesus quickly adds, in case we missed the other half—the positive side—of being lambs amongst wolves, because sometimes we Christians miss Jesus’ references to Hebrew Scripture.
“When I’m talking about wolves and lambs,” he says, “I am quoting the prophet Isaiah. When I’m talking about wolves and lambs I am quoting his description of the world re-ordered by God—the world as it should be and as it will be”
He states that, “the wolf and the lamb shall feed together, the lion shall eat straw like the ox; and the serpent—its food will be dust! There will be no hurt or destruction on my holy mountain.”
So, Jesus is not just saying “I’m sending you out into danger.
He is also saying, “I’m sending you into the dangerous world in order to be a model of the world as it should be.”
“Mission is not war-time-heroics, ‘sneaking behind enemy lines,’ but living without an enemy—pre-figuring the possibility of the gospel.
The mission Jesus calls us to be, is, to borrow an overused phrase, to “be the change we wish to see in the world.”
“And that change we wish to see is peace… you will say peace to this house.”
“But,” we say quietly to ourselves, hoping our Lord doesn’t hear, “the world that we see is violent—the United States, the country Baltimore is located in—is at war in two countries and flying armed unmanned drones above several more. Its not a peaceful place. Being here with Jesus is peaceful, but how could we share such a peace with such a war-like people? I don’t want to lose the peace of Jesus that I have by interacting with Americans.”
To this Jesus responds, “Say peace to this house. And if anyone is there who shares peace—who is a child of peace—you and they will share in peacefulness—but if they are all war-like the peace I have given to you will return to you. But if you are serious about this mission thing… and that the church is always called to mission… you have to be willing to risk your peace for the sake of sharing peace!
“And further,” he adds, “when I say peace I do not simply mean the absence of war.”
“I mean the peace of God—the wholeness, the good news and release, the freedom and the sight—that God gives to me and I in turn give to you that you might give it freely to others!”
Yet sadly, before Jesus can even end the speaking of his eloquent words you and I are already asking the same question again, “but what are the costs of this? Do Baltimoreans deserve to know the good news of the kingdom of God? For that matter what happens if they reject us? What if they don’t care for the healing and wholeness that is the mission of the church? What if they don’t care for the Kingdom of God?”
To this Jesus responds, “You still have to tell them that the Kingdom of God has come near! Sure, wipe off the soil of Baltimore—kick the concrete and asvault out of the treds in your sneakers, but still be the prophecy of Isaiah—still let them know the demands and the right rule of God! Still let them know about the Kingdom.”
And with that we went out.
We traveled to Baltimore.
We followed the church’s calling to mission.
We lived into the danger and hope of Baltimore.
We built up a center that serves 100’s of children—a peaceful place for them here in Park Heights.
We made space for those recovering from addiction to wrestle with their demons and find the wholeness that is of God.
We visited the sick,
we provided food for those that hunger, for that is the Rule of God and the Kingdom of God.
You and I, appointed by the Lord to go ahead of Him to Baltimore, have done great things.
We have embodied the gospel, as is our calling.
Wolves have been won over.
We stepped upon the backs of snakes, scorpions, and all that which would seek to harm people.
We subdued demons and throw down Satan.
But, just in case we get so wrapped up in our calling. Just in case the church weds itself to mission and falls in love with the power of throwing down the Powers of Sin, Death, and the Devil. Just in case, Jesus comes to us one last time.
He says, “Don’t rejoice at all of this. Rejoice that your name is written in heaven.” I believe words like Mission and Evangelism—as over-used and miss-used as they are—are important… I believe the Church is always called to mission,
and its an amazing mission—I believe it is a mission that can protect the vulnerable, heal the broken, and save the soul of this world, this nation, and this city
Nonetheless, in doing this mission we must not forget whose mission it is. In this calling we must not forget who has called us.
We protect because we are being protected,
we heal because we are being healed and
we save because we are being saved.
Because, “God has smiled on me, he has set me free. God has smiled on me, He’s been good to me.” (Hymn 152 in the AAHH)
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
An outline of my talk tonight
SCRIPTURE
“Jesus Christ is the living and abiding Word of God. By the power of the Spirit, this very Word of God, which is Jesus Christ, is read in the Scriptures,”—Principle 1 of “The Use and the Means of Grace”
“Jesus Christ is the Word of God incarnate. The proclamation of God’s message to us is both Law and Gospel. The canonical Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments are the written Word of God. Through this word in these forms, as through the sacraments, God gives faith, forgiveness of sins, and new life.”—Principle 5 of “The Use and the Means of Grace”
“Preaching is the living and contemporary voice of one who interprets in all the Scriptures the things concerning Jesus Christ.”—Application 9A of “The Use and the Means of Grace”
The Homoerotic verses:
Genesis 18:16-19:29—Sodomy
Leviticus 18:22 and 20:13—Tobah “abomination”
Romans 1:18-2:11—an orgy?
1 Corinthians 6:9-10 and 1 Timothy 1:8-11—Arsenokoitai—a word Paul coined! “those who bed men”
Jude 1:7—See Genesis 18:16-19:29
RACE
Closeted or out?—“I’m only a homosexual when I’m having sex with a man.”
The African American Community—“It's like you've let down the whole black community, black women, black history, black pride. You don't hear black people say, 'Oh yeah, he's gay, but he's still a real man, and he still takes care of all his responsibilities.' What you hear is, 'Look at that sissy faggot.' ''
The Black Church— “coming out of the closet and pressing for rights in the Black church would be, I’d say, suicidal and destructive.”—Rev. Dr. Mozella G. Mitchell
Economics--“If you don’t have a job or a steady income, the thought of coming out may seem more like masochism than liberation.”-- Keith Boykin
The Gay Community--''The choice becomes, do I want to be discriminated against at home for my sexuality, or do I want to move away and be discriminated against for my skin color?''
“Jesus Christ is the living and abiding Word of God. By the power of the Spirit, this very Word of God, which is Jesus Christ, is read in the Scriptures,”—Principle 1 of “The Use and the Means of Grace”
“Jesus Christ is the Word of God incarnate. The proclamation of God’s message to us is both Law and Gospel. The canonical Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments are the written Word of God. Through this word in these forms, as through the sacraments, God gives faith, forgiveness of sins, and new life.”—Principle 5 of “The Use and the Means of Grace”
“Preaching is the living and contemporary voice of one who interprets in all the Scriptures the things concerning Jesus Christ.”—Application 9A of “The Use and the Means of Grace”
The Homoerotic verses:
Genesis 18:16-19:29—Sodomy
Leviticus 18:22 and 20:13—Tobah “abomination”
Romans 1:18-2:11—an orgy?
1 Corinthians 6:9-10 and 1 Timothy 1:8-11—Arsenokoitai—a word Paul coined! “those who bed men”
Jude 1:7—See Genesis 18:16-19:29
RACE
Closeted or out?—“I’m only a homosexual when I’m having sex with a man.”
The African American Community—“It's like you've let down the whole black community, black women, black history, black pride. You don't hear black people say, 'Oh yeah, he's gay, but he's still a real man, and he still takes care of all his responsibilities.' What you hear is, 'Look at that sissy faggot.' ''
The Black Church— “coming out of the closet and pressing for rights in the Black church would be, I’d say, suicidal and destructive.”—Rev. Dr. Mozella G. Mitchell
Economics--“If you don’t have a job or a steady income, the thought of coming out may seem more like masochism than liberation.”-- Keith Boykin
The Gay Community--''The choice becomes, do I want to be discriminated against at home for my sexuality, or do I want to move away and be discriminated against for my skin color?''
Cover: Scripture and Race
Just a quick update. Tonight I will be doing the second half of my two part series about the spiritual implications of being on the DL. Last week we talked about the breadth of the sexuality statement and its grounding principles, especially about building and protecting trust in relationships—and how those principles were, or were not, being valued in the movie Cover, and in DL relationships. Then we talked about homosexuality, what the ELCA has to say about it and what that means for people on the DL.
Tonight we are going to look at scripture, what it is, and what it says about homoeroticism. Then we are going to talk about race, specifically about why being on the DL is mainly an African American thing.
At some point I’m going to do a full post about the whole DL thing.
Peace,
Chris
Tonight we are going to look at scripture, what it is, and what it says about homoeroticism. Then we are going to talk about race, specifically about why being on the DL is mainly an African American thing.
At some point I’m going to do a full post about the whole DL thing.
Peace,
Chris
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Sermon: Freedom is just another word for nothing left to gain.
Greetings in the name of the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia. Greetings in the name of St. John’s Pimlico. Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.
In Janis Joplin’s song, “Me and Bobby McGee,” the refrain is, “Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose.”
Today I would like to maintain two somewhat opposing statements. In so far as discipleship is concerned, “Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose.” But, in so far as salvation in concerned, “Freedom is just another word for nothing left to gain.”
When we talk about discipleship Joplin’s original verse, “Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose,” is accurate. When we talk about salvation, “Freedom is just another word for nothing left to gain.”
Let us pray:
Lord God, may the words of my mouth, and the meditations of all our hearts, be acceptable to You. Amen.
“Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose.”
I genuinely believe that the central message of today’s gospel is that part of being a disciple of Jesus—part of following Jesus—is about losing and leaving everything behind to go on the journey God has called us to. Part of freely following Jesus is having nothing left to lose.
And this isn’t a small thing! Leaving and losing everything—if it is more than words on a page or lyrics in a song—is a scary thing!
Think, for example, of some of the severe instances of losing and leaving everything in recent days.
Think of General Stanely McCrystal. He was the Commander of U.S. Forces Afghanistan, until some… less than flatter words he and his aides had made in front of a Rolling Stone reporter came to light. By this last Wednesday he was relieved of his command and forced to resign. For that matter he doesn’t even get to go back to Afghanistan to pick up his belongings!
His 34 years of service, the four stars on his shoulder—all gone. We can, in a sense, see before our eyes a man loosing everything—leaving everything behind.
As the crisis in the Gulf Coast continues, whole eco-systems—whole circles of life—as well as the livelihood of shrimpers, fishermen, and all those dependent on tourism—are being brought down because the earth is bleeding from a man-made wound. On an economic level, as well as environmental level, the gulf is losing everything—leaving everything behind.
And we can even sharpen our focus and move this message of loss a little closer to home. We can cast our eyes upon the inner-harbor here in Baltimore. We can watch as employees of the ESPN-zone arrived to work 11 days ago only to find their place of employment empty—their means of making a living was punctuated with a pink slip. They lost everything.—they are leaving everything behind.
Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose.
And in today’s readings we find people losing and leaving everything to go on the journey God has called them to. In today’s readings we find that, in order to be free to follow God’s calling, there must be nothing left to lose.
Today we find Elisha called by God to lose everything. He is tapped by Elijah to be his replacement. He is called forth from his job as a farmer to follow in the footsteps of Elijah. And, as Elijah yokes him with the mantle of prophecy, Elisha takes the yoke of his cattle, and the cattle themselves, and burns them all up. He takes all the tools of his trade, all that has provided him with an income, and I dare say all that has provided him with an identity, and puts them to the flame. He is losing and leaving everything.
Today, we find James and John, wrestle with the full implications of their calling. Today they are forced to let go of ancient stories about angry prophets of angry Gods burning unbelievers. They are instead confronted with the cost of discipleship—being a disciple of the Son of Man means wandering from village to village. It means leaving the nest for the empty skies and not even having the common comforts of a foxhole. They are losing and leaving everything.
Today, one man is advised to go against both religious conviction and familial obligation.
This is, in fact, so shocking of a command that some scholars try to blunt its force by adding a Greek word to this gospel that simply isn’t there. They want to change Jesus’ command to say, “let those who deal with dead bodies bury the dead.”
But in the end the calling of the Kingdom of God leaves bodies behind. He is losing and leaving everything.
Today, another man is told that he can’t even say good-bye. He is told that if he was to say farewell to friends and family it would be like plowing a crooked field, because you have to look ahead if you want to plow straight. He is losing and leaving everything.
Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose. The freedom to follow Jesus comes from losing and leaving everything.
There is no doubt that these people are losing and leaving everything to go on the journey God has called them to. But why? What kind of journey requires everything to go? What kind of journey requires burnt oxen, wandering, bodies unburied, and friends uninformed?
Why does following Jesus require having nothing left to lose?
Because, today! Today! Today! Jesus sets his face toward Jerusalem! Jesus sets his face toward Jerusalem.
Today the focus of his ministry shifts—his mission changes—it becomes cross-shaped.
If you could look into Jesus’ eyes today you would see the cross of Calvary! Because Jesus sets his face toward Jerusalem.
And so, when his disciples are surprised at being rejected on the journey—when people ask him if they can follow him… after they’ve done this or that of course!—he responds that they need to lose and leave everything if they are going to journey with him.
Because, when you go to Jerusalem you can’t take anything with you. When you go to Jerusalem you lose and leave everything—because anything you take with you—any pre-conceived notion you had, any hang ups, anything you were particularly attached to—will be stripped away. Because the cross transforms all of it!
And if Jesus is the Messiah. If the journey of faith this Jesus brings us on, is true is in fact God acting in the world—then all those things have to be looked at again.
It is as if the cross is a sort of microscope—or telescope—or set of night vision goggles.
Before Jerusalem—before the cross—we saw a stone rejected by a builder—now we see a capstone. Before Jerusalem—before the cross—we saw a slain lamb—now we see the Lion of the tribe of Judah. Before Jerusalem—the cross was a sign of torture and Roman power and domination—now we see it as the throne of God that casts down the tyrants and lifts up the lowly.
In short, we leave and lose everything because everything is a loss beside the cross.
Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose.
But it doesn’t stop there. It doesn’t stop with Christ crucified. The good news this day is not simply that Jerusalem changes our expectations, that Jerusalem frees us in such a way that we have nothing left to lose. The Gospel is more than discipleship, as important as discipleship is.
When it comes to salvation freedom is just another word for nothing left to gain! When it comes to salvation freedom is just another word for nothing left to gain!
At the cross everything has shifted! The journey begun today—the journey that requires leaving and loss—doesn’t end with God’s loss on the cross.
No! We killed Jesus but he came back and continues to forgive! He won’t quit us! His journey to Jerusalem and beyond is a continued yes to us!
If there is anyone here within the sound of my voice who doesn’t know, or hasn’t experience, or hasn’t heard, that yes.
If there is anyone who doesn’t want to believe that yes because they think their particular sin is deeper than the love of God.
Anyone who, in the depths of your loss, feels that there is nothing left to lose.
Anyone who has left so many times that you think God has left you.
Anyone who has been so amazed by grace that they don’t know where to go for there.
Anyone who is in need of a reason to love their neighbor.
Anyone! Everyone!
I want you to know today that God says yes to you!
God has named you and claimed you since the start of creation.
God has named you and claimed you on the cross.
God continues to name you and claim you with each God-given breath you take.
I want you to know God’s yes to us lead to our yes to others—we respond to God’s love with our love of neighbor!
For freedom is just another word for nothing left to gain, and so there is nothing we do to earn more love than has been poured out for us on the cross.
Freedom is just another word for nothing left to gain and so there is nothing we can do to earn God’s grace, because grace is God’s gift to us.
Freedom is just another word for nothing left to gain and so it is “for freedom Christ has set us free.”
Freedom is just another word for nothing left to gain and so we have been freed from the slavery of sin to become servants of all.
Freedom is just another word for nothing left to gain and so we have been given more than license, we have been given liberty.
Freedom is just another word for nothing left to gain and so Jesus Christ has set us free to follow the one law, “Love your neighbor as yourself.”
Freedom is just another word for nothing left to gain. Freedom is just another word for nothing left to gain.
A+A
In Janis Joplin’s song, “Me and Bobby McGee,” the refrain is, “Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose.”
Today I would like to maintain two somewhat opposing statements. In so far as discipleship is concerned, “Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose.” But, in so far as salvation in concerned, “Freedom is just another word for nothing left to gain.”
When we talk about discipleship Joplin’s original verse, “Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose,” is accurate. When we talk about salvation, “Freedom is just another word for nothing left to gain.”
Let us pray:
Lord God, may the words of my mouth, and the meditations of all our hearts, be acceptable to You. Amen.
“Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose.”
I genuinely believe that the central message of today’s gospel is that part of being a disciple of Jesus—part of following Jesus—is about losing and leaving everything behind to go on the journey God has called us to. Part of freely following Jesus is having nothing left to lose.
And this isn’t a small thing! Leaving and losing everything—if it is more than words on a page or lyrics in a song—is a scary thing!
Think, for example, of some of the severe instances of losing and leaving everything in recent days.
Think of General Stanely McCrystal. He was the Commander of U.S. Forces Afghanistan, until some… less than flatter words he and his aides had made in front of a Rolling Stone reporter came to light. By this last Wednesday he was relieved of his command and forced to resign. For that matter he doesn’t even get to go back to Afghanistan to pick up his belongings!
His 34 years of service, the four stars on his shoulder—all gone. We can, in a sense, see before our eyes a man loosing everything—leaving everything behind.
As the crisis in the Gulf Coast continues, whole eco-systems—whole circles of life—as well as the livelihood of shrimpers, fishermen, and all those dependent on tourism—are being brought down because the earth is bleeding from a man-made wound. On an economic level, as well as environmental level, the gulf is losing everything—leaving everything behind.
And we can even sharpen our focus and move this message of loss a little closer to home. We can cast our eyes upon the inner-harbor here in Baltimore. We can watch as employees of the ESPN-zone arrived to work 11 days ago only to find their place of employment empty—their means of making a living was punctuated with a pink slip. They lost everything.—they are leaving everything behind.
Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose.
And in today’s readings we find people losing and leaving everything to go on the journey God has called them to. In today’s readings we find that, in order to be free to follow God’s calling, there must be nothing left to lose.
Today we find Elisha called by God to lose everything. He is tapped by Elijah to be his replacement. He is called forth from his job as a farmer to follow in the footsteps of Elijah. And, as Elijah yokes him with the mantle of prophecy, Elisha takes the yoke of his cattle, and the cattle themselves, and burns them all up. He takes all the tools of his trade, all that has provided him with an income, and I dare say all that has provided him with an identity, and puts them to the flame. He is losing and leaving everything.
Today, we find James and John, wrestle with the full implications of their calling. Today they are forced to let go of ancient stories about angry prophets of angry Gods burning unbelievers. They are instead confronted with the cost of discipleship—being a disciple of the Son of Man means wandering from village to village. It means leaving the nest for the empty skies and not even having the common comforts of a foxhole. They are losing and leaving everything.
Today, one man is advised to go against both religious conviction and familial obligation.
This is, in fact, so shocking of a command that some scholars try to blunt its force by adding a Greek word to this gospel that simply isn’t there. They want to change Jesus’ command to say, “let those who deal with dead bodies bury the dead.”
But in the end the calling of the Kingdom of God leaves bodies behind. He is losing and leaving everything.
Today, another man is told that he can’t even say good-bye. He is told that if he was to say farewell to friends and family it would be like plowing a crooked field, because you have to look ahead if you want to plow straight. He is losing and leaving everything.
Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose. The freedom to follow Jesus comes from losing and leaving everything.
There is no doubt that these people are losing and leaving everything to go on the journey God has called them to. But why? What kind of journey requires everything to go? What kind of journey requires burnt oxen, wandering, bodies unburied, and friends uninformed?
Why does following Jesus require having nothing left to lose?
Because, today! Today! Today! Jesus sets his face toward Jerusalem! Jesus sets his face toward Jerusalem.
Today the focus of his ministry shifts—his mission changes—it becomes cross-shaped.
If you could look into Jesus’ eyes today you would see the cross of Calvary! Because Jesus sets his face toward Jerusalem.
And so, when his disciples are surprised at being rejected on the journey—when people ask him if they can follow him… after they’ve done this or that of course!—he responds that they need to lose and leave everything if they are going to journey with him.
Because, when you go to Jerusalem you can’t take anything with you. When you go to Jerusalem you lose and leave everything—because anything you take with you—any pre-conceived notion you had, any hang ups, anything you were particularly attached to—will be stripped away. Because the cross transforms all of it!
And if Jesus is the Messiah. If the journey of faith this Jesus brings us on, is true is in fact God acting in the world—then all those things have to be looked at again.
It is as if the cross is a sort of microscope—or telescope—or set of night vision goggles.
Before Jerusalem—before the cross—we saw a stone rejected by a builder—now we see a capstone. Before Jerusalem—before the cross—we saw a slain lamb—now we see the Lion of the tribe of Judah. Before Jerusalem—the cross was a sign of torture and Roman power and domination—now we see it as the throne of God that casts down the tyrants and lifts up the lowly.
In short, we leave and lose everything because everything is a loss beside the cross.
Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose.
But it doesn’t stop there. It doesn’t stop with Christ crucified. The good news this day is not simply that Jerusalem changes our expectations, that Jerusalem frees us in such a way that we have nothing left to lose. The Gospel is more than discipleship, as important as discipleship is.
When it comes to salvation freedom is just another word for nothing left to gain! When it comes to salvation freedom is just another word for nothing left to gain!
At the cross everything has shifted! The journey begun today—the journey that requires leaving and loss—doesn’t end with God’s loss on the cross.
No! We killed Jesus but he came back and continues to forgive! He won’t quit us! His journey to Jerusalem and beyond is a continued yes to us!
If there is anyone here within the sound of my voice who doesn’t know, or hasn’t experience, or hasn’t heard, that yes.
If there is anyone who doesn’t want to believe that yes because they think their particular sin is deeper than the love of God.
Anyone who, in the depths of your loss, feels that there is nothing left to lose.
Anyone who has left so many times that you think God has left you.
Anyone who has been so amazed by grace that they don’t know where to go for there.
Anyone who is in need of a reason to love their neighbor.
Anyone! Everyone!
I want you to know today that God says yes to you!
God has named you and claimed you since the start of creation.
God has named you and claimed you on the cross.
God continues to name you and claim you with each God-given breath you take.
I want you to know God’s yes to us lead to our yes to others—we respond to God’s love with our love of neighbor!
For freedom is just another word for nothing left to gain, and so there is nothing we do to earn more love than has been poured out for us on the cross.
Freedom is just another word for nothing left to gain and so there is nothing we can do to earn God’s grace, because grace is God’s gift to us.
Freedom is just another word for nothing left to gain and so it is “for freedom Christ has set us free.”
Freedom is just another word for nothing left to gain and so we have been freed from the slavery of sin to become servants of all.
Freedom is just another word for nothing left to gain and so we have been given more than license, we have been given liberty.
Freedom is just another word for nothing left to gain and so Jesus Christ has set us free to follow the one law, “Love your neighbor as yourself.”
Freedom is just another word for nothing left to gain. Freedom is just another word for nothing left to gain.
A+A
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Applying the Sexuality Statement in a local context
So, I am currently working on an interesting… challenge. The subject of men on the down-low has been talked about at one of my Bible Studies. So, I decided to face the issue head on. Next Tuesday night we’re doing a Bible Study/discussion using the movie Cover as a jumping off point to talk about the ethics of living a “down-low” lifestyle.
I have to admit this has been an odd topic to explore, being a straight white man and all. I’m still not sure what I will say and where our conversation will go. I do know I’ll focus on building and protecting trust as well as the church’s role in people’s “personal life.” We’ll also look at the biblical verses about homoerotic acts—since they’ve already been brought up preemptively in this group.
Right now I’m re-reading “Human Sexuality: Gift and Trust”to mine a little more insight from it for this discussion.
I’ll let everyone know how it goes next week.
Peace,
Chris
I have to admit this has been an odd topic to explore, being a straight white man and all. I’m still not sure what I will say and where our conversation will go. I do know I’ll focus on building and protecting trust as well as the church’s role in people’s “personal life.” We’ll also look at the biblical verses about homoerotic acts—since they’ve already been brought up preemptively in this group.
Right now I’m re-reading “Human Sexuality: Gift and Trust”to mine a little more insight from it for this discussion.
I’ll let everyone know how it goes next week.
Peace,
Chris
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Sermon: Did you hear about the part?
Did you hear about the party? Did you hear about the party at Simon’s house? Did you hear that Jesus showed up! Did you hear that… someone else showed up!
All the religious folk had got together at Simon’s house. We all wanted to know what kind of man this Jesus was. We all wanted to know what type of teacher he was.
Some, like the followers of John the Baptist, were wondering if he was a prophet. Others, already convinced he was a prophet, wanted to know what kind of prophet he was. In short, we wanted to know Jesus!
And there he was, he came in, and took his place at the table. Finally, we could get to know him!
But! But! But before the wood of his reclining chair could creek, there she was!
We wanted to know what kind of prophet this Jesus was, but that sinner woman got in our way.
Let us pray:
Lord God, may the words of my mouth and the meditations upon all of our hearts be acceptable in your sight. Amen
Yes! An honest to God sinner! Right there in the midst of the party—our party—our party where we planned to figure out this Jesus fellow.
I mean, there weren’t bouncers or anything, but, you would think with all us religious folk there we could have at least kept… a woman like THAT out of our party!
Because we wanted to see what kind of prophet this man Jesus was, but she got in the way! She bent down, cried, and wiped her face! Her tear stained face upon the soles of this prophet Jesus’ feet! She wiped his feet with her hair.
And. You know what? This, this prophet Jesus, kind of let out a giggle. Sort of a ---ehhchk, that tickles—a giggle snort.
And then, with the whole crowd of us waiting to know what kind of prophet this Jesus was, with the whole crowd of religious folk kind of awestruck and horrified, at… that sinner woman! Right there out in the open she… she kissed his feet and then poured anointing oil upon them.
I mean, I’ve heard of anointing someone’s head, but… who anoints someone’s feet? That’s just SUCH extravagance! Such a waste!
And we all just stood there, agape as this sinner interacted with this… prophet?
And then Simon asked the question we were all thinking, “if you’re a prophet, why don’t know that you are being TOUCHED—touched… so intimately… by a sinner! A sinner like her!”
And this so-called-prophet, Jesus, responded, “Simon, there are two debtors. One owes 52,000 dollars. The other owes 5,200 dollars. Neither can pay their bookie. If he forgives both of their debts who will feel more gratitude?”
Simon looked a little taken aback—after all a party like this isn’t Pimlico racetrack or something! Talking about bookies is a little… low class… don’t you think?
But Simon responded, “The one who owed more and was forgiven more. That’s the one who would feel more gratitude.”
“Yup,” shot back this Jesus fellow… I mean seriously, what kind of prophet talks like that?
Then, Jesus squirmed around in his chair so he was facing the woman, “Look at her!” he said, “Then look at yourselves! I came here, with everyone all expectant—yet you gave me no water or oil. You didn’t even kiss me!
She on the other hand washed me with tears and hair, she brought oil here at her own expense, and kissed not only my cheek, but my feet!”
We grumbled at that, as you might imagine.
“You say I can’t be a prophet because I don’t see what kind of woman she is!
Well, I’ve watched everyone at this party. By the way she acts the only conclusion I can come to is that she’s a forgiven woman who is just so glad about that fact!
The love she pours out was poured out as gratitude—just like the debtor who owed the bookie much.”
Then he squirmed a little more and turned back to Simon… and well… frankly towards the rest of us, and said to us all, “The one to whom little is forgiven, shows little gratitude.”
The crowd erupted, insulted by his words!
“Wait! He’s talking about us!” said one person.
“Well, if amount of sinning is required in order to express gratitude, think how much gratitude the CEO of BP will feel when he realized God forgives him!” Said another snidely.
As for me, I thought of king David. After all it is written that he was a man after God’s own heart—yet if you read in the book of Samuel you realize this man after God’s own heart was a sinner like all of us. No! A worse sinner than most of us!
He sent his messengers to capture Bathsheba,
He impregnated her,
He tried to trick Uriah into covering up his sin,
and when he failed at that he used his power and influence to kill Uriah and then marry Bathsheba!
…
Maybe that’s what the so-called-prophet Jesus meant when he said, “the one whom little is forgiven, loves little.”
But, before I could contemplate still deeper the meaning of this idea. The idea that the depths of our sin draws us deeper into the gracious love of God—the so-called-prophet and the so-called-sinner-woman continued their very public conversation.
“Your sins are forgiven,” he said.
And again, the crowd burst asunder saying, “Who but God can forgive sins? Not even a prophet would make such proclamations!”
He didn’t pay attention to us, but said to her, “Your faith has saved you. Go in peace.”
And that would not be the last time we would hear Jesus speak the words, “Your faith has saved you. Go in peace.”
To a Samaritan leper he said, “Your faith has saved you. Go in peace.”
To a woman who had been menstruating for years he said, “Your faith has saved you. Go in peace.”
To a blind man he said, “Your faith has saved you. Go in peace.”
All these people! All these vulnerable people Lepers, blind men, bleeding women, and sinner women—all these people our society conciders sinners—responded with great faith and trust that this Jesus—a so-called-prophet—was a prophet and more than a prophet.
And later I saw this Jesus. He was in the company of woman—lots of them! Women who were high up in society, and women like the woman at the party, who were afflicted by demons and sins and all kinds of malarkey.
It would seem that the kind of prophet Jesus was, was not obscured by sinners, but expressed by his interactions with sinners.
I’d thought I would get to know Jesus if there wasn’t that darn sinner getting in the way of my experience of him.
But it was that woman that showed us Jesus, because the kind of prophet Jesus was, was not obscured by sinners, but expressed by his interactions with sinners.
A+A
All the religious folk had got together at Simon’s house. We all wanted to know what kind of man this Jesus was. We all wanted to know what type of teacher he was.
Some, like the followers of John the Baptist, were wondering if he was a prophet. Others, already convinced he was a prophet, wanted to know what kind of prophet he was. In short, we wanted to know Jesus!
And there he was, he came in, and took his place at the table. Finally, we could get to know him!
But! But! But before the wood of his reclining chair could creek, there she was!
We wanted to know what kind of prophet this Jesus was, but that sinner woman got in our way.
Let us pray:
Lord God, may the words of my mouth and the meditations upon all of our hearts be acceptable in your sight. Amen
Yes! An honest to God sinner! Right there in the midst of the party—our party—our party where we planned to figure out this Jesus fellow.
I mean, there weren’t bouncers or anything, but, you would think with all us religious folk there we could have at least kept… a woman like THAT out of our party!
Because we wanted to see what kind of prophet this man Jesus was, but she got in the way! She bent down, cried, and wiped her face! Her tear stained face upon the soles of this prophet Jesus’ feet! She wiped his feet with her hair.
And. You know what? This, this prophet Jesus, kind of let out a giggle. Sort of a ---ehhchk, that tickles—a giggle snort.
And then, with the whole crowd of us waiting to know what kind of prophet this Jesus was, with the whole crowd of religious folk kind of awestruck and horrified, at… that sinner woman! Right there out in the open she… she kissed his feet and then poured anointing oil upon them.
I mean, I’ve heard of anointing someone’s head, but… who anoints someone’s feet? That’s just SUCH extravagance! Such a waste!
And we all just stood there, agape as this sinner interacted with this… prophet?
And then Simon asked the question we were all thinking, “if you’re a prophet, why don’t know that you are being TOUCHED—touched… so intimately… by a sinner! A sinner like her!”
And this so-called-prophet, Jesus, responded, “Simon, there are two debtors. One owes 52,000 dollars. The other owes 5,200 dollars. Neither can pay their bookie. If he forgives both of their debts who will feel more gratitude?”
Simon looked a little taken aback—after all a party like this isn’t Pimlico racetrack or something! Talking about bookies is a little… low class… don’t you think?
But Simon responded, “The one who owed more and was forgiven more. That’s the one who would feel more gratitude.”
“Yup,” shot back this Jesus fellow… I mean seriously, what kind of prophet talks like that?
Then, Jesus squirmed around in his chair so he was facing the woman, “Look at her!” he said, “Then look at yourselves! I came here, with everyone all expectant—yet you gave me no water or oil. You didn’t even kiss me!
She on the other hand washed me with tears and hair, she brought oil here at her own expense, and kissed not only my cheek, but my feet!”
We grumbled at that, as you might imagine.
“You say I can’t be a prophet because I don’t see what kind of woman she is!
Well, I’ve watched everyone at this party. By the way she acts the only conclusion I can come to is that she’s a forgiven woman who is just so glad about that fact!
The love she pours out was poured out as gratitude—just like the debtor who owed the bookie much.”
Then he squirmed a little more and turned back to Simon… and well… frankly towards the rest of us, and said to us all, “The one to whom little is forgiven, shows little gratitude.”
The crowd erupted, insulted by his words!
“Wait! He’s talking about us!” said one person.
“Well, if amount of sinning is required in order to express gratitude, think how much gratitude the CEO of BP will feel when he realized God forgives him!” Said another snidely.
As for me, I thought of king David. After all it is written that he was a man after God’s own heart—yet if you read in the book of Samuel you realize this man after God’s own heart was a sinner like all of us. No! A worse sinner than most of us!
He sent his messengers to capture Bathsheba,
He impregnated her,
He tried to trick Uriah into covering up his sin,
and when he failed at that he used his power and influence to kill Uriah and then marry Bathsheba!
…
Maybe that’s what the so-called-prophet Jesus meant when he said, “the one whom little is forgiven, loves little.”
But, before I could contemplate still deeper the meaning of this idea. The idea that the depths of our sin draws us deeper into the gracious love of God—the so-called-prophet and the so-called-sinner-woman continued their very public conversation.
“Your sins are forgiven,” he said.
And again, the crowd burst asunder saying, “Who but God can forgive sins? Not even a prophet would make such proclamations!”
He didn’t pay attention to us, but said to her, “Your faith has saved you. Go in peace.”
And that would not be the last time we would hear Jesus speak the words, “Your faith has saved you. Go in peace.”
To a Samaritan leper he said, “Your faith has saved you. Go in peace.”
To a woman who had been menstruating for years he said, “Your faith has saved you. Go in peace.”
To a blind man he said, “Your faith has saved you. Go in peace.”
All these people! All these vulnerable people Lepers, blind men, bleeding women, and sinner women—all these people our society conciders sinners—responded with great faith and trust that this Jesus—a so-called-prophet—was a prophet and more than a prophet.
And later I saw this Jesus. He was in the company of woman—lots of them! Women who were high up in society, and women like the woman at the party, who were afflicted by demons and sins and all kinds of malarkey.
It would seem that the kind of prophet Jesus was, was not obscured by sinners, but expressed by his interactions with sinners.
I’d thought I would get to know Jesus if there wasn’t that darn sinner getting in the way of my experience of him.
But it was that woman that showed us Jesus, because the kind of prophet Jesus was, was not obscured by sinners, but expressed by his interactions with sinners.
A+A
Thursday, June 03, 2010
What if Luke chapter 12:13-21, the man Jesus called a fool, is about the father of the two brothers?
So, I’ve spent the day looking at the final 8 sermons I’ll be preaching… because if I’ve learned nothing else on internship it is to be intentional and to prepare things in advance.
I was reading the gospel readings for August 1st and hit upon an imaginative question: What if the man Jesus calls a fool is in fact the “father” of the two men squabbling about inheritance rights?
Let me set the scene, Jesus is chilling out telling a crowd about faithful fearlessness and a dude in the crowd switches up the conversation, asking Jesus to intervene and get his brother to split his inheritance.
Jesus responds, “that’s not on me… but be careful about this possessions thing—that’s not what life’s about. It can lead to greed… in fact, let me tell you about a man, who was very rich. He decided to build bigger warehouses because he had a LOT of stuff.
In fact he saw having all that stuff secure in an even bigger building to be a sign to his soul that he would be protected for years to come.
And then he died. He was a fool.”
So, what if the man Jesus calls a fool is, either spiritually, or even physically, the father of this man who is after his inheritance. That, to me, would add an even deeper barb to this story. The ending becomes, “he died. He was a fool. Look now, those mighty barns he built up are being torn into two by you! That foolishness is being spread even as it is being torn up! You too are a fool!”
I was reading the gospel readings for August 1st and hit upon an imaginative question: What if the man Jesus calls a fool is in fact the “father” of the two men squabbling about inheritance rights?
Let me set the scene, Jesus is chilling out telling a crowd about faithful fearlessness and a dude in the crowd switches up the conversation, asking Jesus to intervene and get his brother to split his inheritance.
Jesus responds, “that’s not on me… but be careful about this possessions thing—that’s not what life’s about. It can lead to greed… in fact, let me tell you about a man, who was very rich. He decided to build bigger warehouses because he had a LOT of stuff.
In fact he saw having all that stuff secure in an even bigger building to be a sign to his soul that he would be protected for years to come.
And then he died. He was a fool.”
So, what if the man Jesus calls a fool is, either spiritually, or even physically, the father of this man who is after his inheritance. That, to me, would add an even deeper barb to this story. The ending becomes, “he died. He was a fool. Look now, those mighty barns he built up are being torn into two by you! That foolishness is being spread even as it is being torn up! You too are a fool!”
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Sermon: An Uncomfortable bit of rope
Our lesson today begins with the words, “After these things….” And that’s an appropriate starting point—because there have been a lot of things that have led us here—to this mountain, the aged Abraham holding a cleaver glinting in the sun, about to descend into his son, his only son, the one he loves, Isaac.
A lot of things have transpired to get us here, to this last sermon in our series about, “The mixed-up, messed-up, origins of our faith.”
We have journeyed together with Abraham and his family. We have watched how God has been faithful despite the sometimes-strained strangeness of Abraham’s relationships with both family and God.
We have journeyed with Abraham and his family out of Haran only to find the patriarch pimping out his wife Sarah to Pharaoh.
Yet despite Abraham, God was faithful to His promise.
We have watched the complex and messy situation in which God’s promise of a son is threatened not only by the feuding between Hagar and Sarah, but also by Abraham’s strange mix of passivity and judgment.
Yet despite Sarah, Hagar, and Abraham, God was faithful to His promise.
We have heard Sarah laugh at God’s promise and we have heard her lie to God’s face.
Yet despite the mirth of this matriarch and her falsehood, God was faithful to His promise.
We follow Hagar and Ishmael into the desert—Ishmael is exposed—about to die, because of another familial blow-up.
Yet despite the mixed-up, messed-up origins of our faith, God was faithful to His promise.
Yet, after all these things, we find a new threat to the promise. God the Promiser tests Abraham and threatens to kill the promise! God appears to be unfaithful to His promise!
Within these 19 verses everything that comes before—every promise, every salvation of the promise, every victory snatched from defeat—is laid bare with the command to sacrifice Abraham’s son, his only son, the one he loves, Isaac.
The binding of Isaac—as this section of scripture is so often called—is an uncomfortable bit of rope.
It binds us to sacrifice.
It binds violence to faith.
It binds us to the dark side of God and forces us to untangle the question: “Who! Is! Our! God!”
Yes, the Binding of Isaac is an uncomfortable bit of rope.
Lord God, Parent, Lamb, Dove. Create for us, from the story of Abraham, Isaac, a Ram, and you, a word of God for the people of God here and now. May the Preacher’s words and heart be acceptable in your sight. Amen.
The binding of Isaac is an uncomfortable bit of rope. It binds us to sacrifice.
Listen, with me to verse three of the twenty-second chapter of Genesis. “So Abraham rose early in the morning, saddled his donkey, and took two of his young men with him, and his son Isaac; he cut the wood for the burnt offering, and set out and went to the place in the distance that God had shown him.”
In a single verse of scripture Abraham does 6 things. He rises, saddles, takes, cuts, sets out, and goes.
This same Abraham who argues with God in an attempt to save the citizens of Sodom and Gomorra, who says, “what if there are fifty righteous, what if there are 40, 30, 20, 10?” This same man who—for the sake of strangers—stands up to the Creators of all that is—almost trips over himself preparing to sacrifice his son, his only son, the one he loves, Isaac. Abraham is quick to practice human sacrifice.
And, I wish Abraham was alone in that. I really do!
But I’m reminded of Wilfred Owen’s poem “The Parable of the Old Man and the Young.” He wrote that World War One could have been averted if old men—the Abrahams of his time—would simply sacrifice their pride—not their sons. The poem ends, “but the old man would not so, but slew his son, and half the seed of Europe, one by one.”
And on the streets of Baghdad and Kabul today we again see young men—Isaacs—being sacrificed for decisions of Abrahams.
And again on the streets of Baltimore we see Isaac bound up in insane systems that lead to his being stabbed or shot, or stabbing and shooting.
We see sacrifice for Rep, sacrifice for gang affiliation, sacrifice for corners, sacrifice for drugs, and sacrifice for money.
Yes, the binding of Isaac is an uncomfortable bit of rope. It binds us to sacrifice.
But not only that! The binding of Isaac is an uncomfortable bit of rope. It binds violence to faith.
There are those who say that religion is the root of all evil.
There are those who are so horrified by what faithful people do that they would eliminate faith if they could.
And I can’t entirely disagree with them.
I think of the assault on cartoonist Lars Vilk during a lecture he was giving about freedom of speech that happened last Tuesday.
I think of the attempted car bombing in Times Square.
I think of the death threats the creators of South Park received for depicting the Prophet Muhammad.
I think of the violence done in Israel and Palestine by faithful people.
I think of the so-called Christian Militia who intended to kill cops in Michigan in order to fight the anti-Christ.
I think of the bombings of subways and trains in Europe, I think of 9-11.
I think of the attacks against churches and mosques, Muslims and Christians, committed by Buddhists in Sri Lanka and by Hindus in India.
And then I think a frightening thought! “My God! All that religious violence has happened within the last decade.”
(Long pause)
But then I think of Harriet Tubman!
I think of this faithful woman who delivered hundreds of people from the bondage of slavery.
I think of this faithful woman who risked life and limb birthing the Underground Railroad.
I think of this faithful woman who sang songs of faith to further freedom. Who sang “wade in the water” to tell people how to escape tracking-dogs and sang “let us break bread together” as a call to break free of bondage that very night.
I think of this faithful woman who is responsible for the planting of at least three churches in three different cities.
This faithful woman who on her dying bed did not ask for comfort, but instead asked, “do you know Jesus? Because I’m headed to a party!”
And confronted with these twin realities—that our faith can bring about violence and death, and that our faith can bring about freedom and life—I feel again the reality that the binding of Isaac is an uncomfortable bit of rope. I feel the rope grow tight with the overwhelming responsibility we have. Faith is like fire, it can create or destroy, cook a meal or burn down a forest.
Yes, the Binding of Isaac is an uncomfortable bit of rope. It not only binds violence to faith, but that causes us to pause and reflect.
It binds us to the dark side of God and forces us to untangle the question, “who is our God?”
And, as I look down at Abraham’s son, his only son, the one he loves, Isaac, there on the altar, I think too of the young people who will be confirmed this coming week—and I think of our youth who will be participating in Youth Involved in Worship. And I think of what kind of God we are passing on. Faith has so much power, so much potential, so much authority and sway. When we pass the torch do we pass along a light in the darkness, or the fires of holocaust?
And you know what? I’ve taught confirmation—I’ve worked on Youth Involved in Worship. If passing on faith is simply passing on a neutral tool that can be used for good and evil we’re in trouble—we as human being—we as children of Abraham—are inevitably going to sacrifice people to this powerful tool. Because we are bound to sacrifice.
But I’m here to say that faith is more than a tool. It is more than a power that can be used to free slaves or blow up buildings. Because this uncomfortable bit of rope drags us to a point at which we have to ask, “who is our God?”
Inevitably we cry out for the revelation of the personality that spawned faith.
And ultimately that God is not neutral!
When we ask, “who is our God?” The very voice of God responds by shouting through the sacrificial night saying, “Abraham! Abraham!” I am not that kind of God! “Do not lay your hand on the boy or do anything to him.”
It is not only the promise that we trust! We can also, with joy and relief, trust in the nature of the Promiser. The nature of our God. Our God is a God who “demands mercy, not sacrifice, the knowledge of God, not holocaust.”
But maybe I’m getting too abstract… I mean I have a tendency to do that.
If you come with me just a little farther I will tell you about a vision, a daydream, I once had.
As some of you know this text, genesis chapter 22, is a piece of scripture that rattles around in my soul. It is in these 19 verses that I spent a year of my life studying before going to Seminary.
You know, whenever St. John’s has a celebration involving food… in other words whenever St. John’s has a celebration… someone inevitably talks about fattening me up.
Well I can tell you why I’m so skinny! I’m so skinny because for a year of my life the only thing that touched my lips were the words of Genesis chapter 22!
One evening while studying at my desk at Tyndale House Library over in England—a copy Jewish Antiquities sitting open over there, a few translations of the book of Jubilees over here, blurry eyed from studying too long without drinking any coffee—I stopped seeing my messy desk and my books—and I sort of drifted off.
I saw Mount Moriah where Abaham took Isaac. It was a chilled morning under a grey and cloudless sky. The sun inched into view—its rays splayed out like crows feet on an elderly woman’s face.
Four figures marched up the hill, one was old, tall, and wise. Behind him three figures followed at a distance. It was Abraham leading his three children, Judaism, Christianity, and Islam.
They reached the pinnacle of the hill and hastily constructed an altar.
And when they finished that, Abraham turned to them and said, “I am to slaughter you, for it is God’s will,” and as he said this he took his knife from his belt.
“Father,” the three said in unison, “put down the knife, for we remember Isaac and we know that God does not demand blood.”
And at that moment the Angel of the LORD swept down and said, “You have passed the test, for you know Me by My nature.”
And with that Abraham wept, and put down his knife, and hugged his children tightly.
Then he looked up and saw the world we live in now, and he said, “My children. Yours is a generation unlike mine. In my day it was God alone who could knock down the tower of Babel.”
With that he picked back up his knife, “Now,” he said, “19 men armed with only these can board a plane and did similar. Now religious people are killing each other in Baghdad in order to insight uprisings. Now human consumption can cause a new flood and our bombs can being about Armageddon.”
“In my day it took scribes, clay tablets, and horses to get your voice heard… now keyboards and instant communication touches every part of the world. Now being respectful to your neighbor is a global affair.”
And with that he threw the knife on the altar. “Yours is a generation in which individuals can impact the whole world as never before. You carry a responsibility that previously was both the burden, and the pleasure, of only the elites and the statesmen of the world.”
“Don’t you all see! You’ve become god-like and never even noticed. And this violence that, somehow I passed onto you, must be extinguished.”
“So, please, bind your hearts to a new oath—to a new promise. Shake off violence you people of faith.”
And at that very moment the three siblings—Judaism, Christianity, and Islam—affirmed that oath. And they lit the altar pyre and melted the knife of Abraham.
And with that the Angel of the LORD came a second time. And he said, “Oh, sweet Abraham, you have learned much. You have freed yourself and your descendants of violence, but you still have one more lesson. Move beyond saying no to violence—for that is simply a necessity of the time—the only option to keep humanity from co-annihilation—from collective suicide. Move to affirmation—move your children to always say yes to love, mercy, and compassion. Live into the great and timeless truths of God that are at the root of all three faiths. Despite the mixed-up, messed-up, new, and complex world we live in, continue to be faithful as I am faithful to you. Bless all the nations of the earth, for that is your calling.”
A+A
A lot of things have transpired to get us here, to this last sermon in our series about, “The mixed-up, messed-up, origins of our faith.”
We have journeyed together with Abraham and his family. We have watched how God has been faithful despite the sometimes-strained strangeness of Abraham’s relationships with both family and God.
We have journeyed with Abraham and his family out of Haran only to find the patriarch pimping out his wife Sarah to Pharaoh.
Yet despite Abraham, God was faithful to His promise.
We have watched the complex and messy situation in which God’s promise of a son is threatened not only by the feuding between Hagar and Sarah, but also by Abraham’s strange mix of passivity and judgment.
Yet despite Sarah, Hagar, and Abraham, God was faithful to His promise.
We have heard Sarah laugh at God’s promise and we have heard her lie to God’s face.
Yet despite the mirth of this matriarch and her falsehood, God was faithful to His promise.
We follow Hagar and Ishmael into the desert—Ishmael is exposed—about to die, because of another familial blow-up.
Yet despite the mixed-up, messed-up origins of our faith, God was faithful to His promise.
Yet, after all these things, we find a new threat to the promise. God the Promiser tests Abraham and threatens to kill the promise! God appears to be unfaithful to His promise!
Within these 19 verses everything that comes before—every promise, every salvation of the promise, every victory snatched from defeat—is laid bare with the command to sacrifice Abraham’s son, his only son, the one he loves, Isaac.
The binding of Isaac—as this section of scripture is so often called—is an uncomfortable bit of rope.
It binds us to sacrifice.
It binds violence to faith.
It binds us to the dark side of God and forces us to untangle the question: “Who! Is! Our! God!”
Yes, the Binding of Isaac is an uncomfortable bit of rope.
Lord God, Parent, Lamb, Dove. Create for us, from the story of Abraham, Isaac, a Ram, and you, a word of God for the people of God here and now. May the Preacher’s words and heart be acceptable in your sight. Amen.
The binding of Isaac is an uncomfortable bit of rope. It binds us to sacrifice.
Listen, with me to verse three of the twenty-second chapter of Genesis. “So Abraham rose early in the morning, saddled his donkey, and took two of his young men with him, and his son Isaac; he cut the wood for the burnt offering, and set out and went to the place in the distance that God had shown him.”
In a single verse of scripture Abraham does 6 things. He rises, saddles, takes, cuts, sets out, and goes.
This same Abraham who argues with God in an attempt to save the citizens of Sodom and Gomorra, who says, “what if there are fifty righteous, what if there are 40, 30, 20, 10?” This same man who—for the sake of strangers—stands up to the Creators of all that is—almost trips over himself preparing to sacrifice his son, his only son, the one he loves, Isaac. Abraham is quick to practice human sacrifice.
And, I wish Abraham was alone in that. I really do!
But I’m reminded of Wilfred Owen’s poem “The Parable of the Old Man and the Young.” He wrote that World War One could have been averted if old men—the Abrahams of his time—would simply sacrifice their pride—not their sons. The poem ends, “but the old man would not so, but slew his son, and half the seed of Europe, one by one.”
And on the streets of Baghdad and Kabul today we again see young men—Isaacs—being sacrificed for decisions of Abrahams.
And again on the streets of Baltimore we see Isaac bound up in insane systems that lead to his being stabbed or shot, or stabbing and shooting.
We see sacrifice for Rep, sacrifice for gang affiliation, sacrifice for corners, sacrifice for drugs, and sacrifice for money.
Yes, the binding of Isaac is an uncomfortable bit of rope. It binds us to sacrifice.
But not only that! The binding of Isaac is an uncomfortable bit of rope. It binds violence to faith.
There are those who say that religion is the root of all evil.
There are those who are so horrified by what faithful people do that they would eliminate faith if they could.
And I can’t entirely disagree with them.
I think of the assault on cartoonist Lars Vilk during a lecture he was giving about freedom of speech that happened last Tuesday.
I think of the attempted car bombing in Times Square.
I think of the death threats the creators of South Park received for depicting the Prophet Muhammad.
I think of the violence done in Israel and Palestine by faithful people.
I think of the so-called Christian Militia who intended to kill cops in Michigan in order to fight the anti-Christ.
I think of the bombings of subways and trains in Europe, I think of 9-11.
I think of the attacks against churches and mosques, Muslims and Christians, committed by Buddhists in Sri Lanka and by Hindus in India.
And then I think a frightening thought! “My God! All that religious violence has happened within the last decade.”
(Long pause)
But then I think of Harriet Tubman!
I think of this faithful woman who delivered hundreds of people from the bondage of slavery.
I think of this faithful woman who risked life and limb birthing the Underground Railroad.
I think of this faithful woman who sang songs of faith to further freedom. Who sang “wade in the water” to tell people how to escape tracking-dogs and sang “let us break bread together” as a call to break free of bondage that very night.
I think of this faithful woman who is responsible for the planting of at least three churches in three different cities.
This faithful woman who on her dying bed did not ask for comfort, but instead asked, “do you know Jesus? Because I’m headed to a party!”
And confronted with these twin realities—that our faith can bring about violence and death, and that our faith can bring about freedom and life—I feel again the reality that the binding of Isaac is an uncomfortable bit of rope. I feel the rope grow tight with the overwhelming responsibility we have. Faith is like fire, it can create or destroy, cook a meal or burn down a forest.
Yes, the Binding of Isaac is an uncomfortable bit of rope. It not only binds violence to faith, but that causes us to pause and reflect.
It binds us to the dark side of God and forces us to untangle the question, “who is our God?”
And, as I look down at Abraham’s son, his only son, the one he loves, Isaac, there on the altar, I think too of the young people who will be confirmed this coming week—and I think of our youth who will be participating in Youth Involved in Worship. And I think of what kind of God we are passing on. Faith has so much power, so much potential, so much authority and sway. When we pass the torch do we pass along a light in the darkness, or the fires of holocaust?
And you know what? I’ve taught confirmation—I’ve worked on Youth Involved in Worship. If passing on faith is simply passing on a neutral tool that can be used for good and evil we’re in trouble—we as human being—we as children of Abraham—are inevitably going to sacrifice people to this powerful tool. Because we are bound to sacrifice.
But I’m here to say that faith is more than a tool. It is more than a power that can be used to free slaves or blow up buildings. Because this uncomfortable bit of rope drags us to a point at which we have to ask, “who is our God?”
Inevitably we cry out for the revelation of the personality that spawned faith.
And ultimately that God is not neutral!
When we ask, “who is our God?” The very voice of God responds by shouting through the sacrificial night saying, “Abraham! Abraham!” I am not that kind of God! “Do not lay your hand on the boy or do anything to him.”
It is not only the promise that we trust! We can also, with joy and relief, trust in the nature of the Promiser. The nature of our God. Our God is a God who “demands mercy, not sacrifice, the knowledge of God, not holocaust.”
But maybe I’m getting too abstract… I mean I have a tendency to do that.
If you come with me just a little farther I will tell you about a vision, a daydream, I once had.
As some of you know this text, genesis chapter 22, is a piece of scripture that rattles around in my soul. It is in these 19 verses that I spent a year of my life studying before going to Seminary.
You know, whenever St. John’s has a celebration involving food… in other words whenever St. John’s has a celebration… someone inevitably talks about fattening me up.
Well I can tell you why I’m so skinny! I’m so skinny because for a year of my life the only thing that touched my lips were the words of Genesis chapter 22!
One evening while studying at my desk at Tyndale House Library over in England—a copy Jewish Antiquities sitting open over there, a few translations of the book of Jubilees over here, blurry eyed from studying too long without drinking any coffee—I stopped seeing my messy desk and my books—and I sort of drifted off.
I saw Mount Moriah where Abaham took Isaac. It was a chilled morning under a grey and cloudless sky. The sun inched into view—its rays splayed out like crows feet on an elderly woman’s face.
Four figures marched up the hill, one was old, tall, and wise. Behind him three figures followed at a distance. It was Abraham leading his three children, Judaism, Christianity, and Islam.
They reached the pinnacle of the hill and hastily constructed an altar.
And when they finished that, Abraham turned to them and said, “I am to slaughter you, for it is God’s will,” and as he said this he took his knife from his belt.
“Father,” the three said in unison, “put down the knife, for we remember Isaac and we know that God does not demand blood.”
And at that moment the Angel of the LORD swept down and said, “You have passed the test, for you know Me by My nature.”
And with that Abraham wept, and put down his knife, and hugged his children tightly.
Then he looked up and saw the world we live in now, and he said, “My children. Yours is a generation unlike mine. In my day it was God alone who could knock down the tower of Babel.”
With that he picked back up his knife, “Now,” he said, “19 men armed with only these can board a plane and did similar. Now religious people are killing each other in Baghdad in order to insight uprisings. Now human consumption can cause a new flood and our bombs can being about Armageddon.”
“In my day it took scribes, clay tablets, and horses to get your voice heard… now keyboards and instant communication touches every part of the world. Now being respectful to your neighbor is a global affair.”
And with that he threw the knife on the altar. “Yours is a generation in which individuals can impact the whole world as never before. You carry a responsibility that previously was both the burden, and the pleasure, of only the elites and the statesmen of the world.”
“Don’t you all see! You’ve become god-like and never even noticed. And this violence that, somehow I passed onto you, must be extinguished.”
“So, please, bind your hearts to a new oath—to a new promise. Shake off violence you people of faith.”
And at that very moment the three siblings—Judaism, Christianity, and Islam—affirmed that oath. And they lit the altar pyre and melted the knife of Abraham.
And with that the Angel of the LORD came a second time. And he said, “Oh, sweet Abraham, you have learned much. You have freed yourself and your descendants of violence, but you still have one more lesson. Move beyond saying no to violence—for that is simply a necessity of the time—the only option to keep humanity from co-annihilation—from collective suicide. Move to affirmation—move your children to always say yes to love, mercy, and compassion. Live into the great and timeless truths of God that are at the root of all three faiths. Despite the mixed-up, messed-up, new, and complex world we live in, continue to be faithful as I am faithful to you. Bless all the nations of the earth, for that is your calling.”
A+A
Friday, May 14, 2010
Children's sermon for this Sunday--its a concept from Kierkegaard's Fear and Trembling put into story form... get it? :)
Once upon the time, in the Kingdom of __(1)_____ there lived two squires. There names were __(2)_____ and ___(3)____. Now, in case you don’t know, squires are people who are training to become knights. To do this they learned to use swords and shields, learned how to put on armor quickly, and learned to ride horses well.
___(4)____, the Queen of __(1)_____ took a special interest in ___(2)____ and ___(3)____. In fact she so wanted them to succeed as knights that she gave them each a horse that she promised was there’s forever. Additionally she promised them that when they were ready she would make them knights.
___(2)____’s horse was ___(5)____ with ____(6)___ speckles. Her name was___(7)____. __(3)_____’s horse was ___(8)____ with a __(9)_____ __(10)_____ on the right side of his face. His name was ___(11)____.
Also knight __(12)_____, the most famous knight in the entire kingdom of ___(1)____, gave the two squires lessons on how to be a knight. They also rode their horses every day, practiced sword fighting and polished their armor.
Then one night ___(2)____ and ___(3)____ woke up to people shouting, “the stables are burning the stables are burning!”
“Oh no!” said __(2)_____.
They both rushed to the stables and found ___(7)____ and __(11)_____.
The two horses were scared and trapped—the only way to get them out was to get them to run away.
“We have to let them go,” said _(2)______.
___(3)____ replied, “I… I know…but… but…if we do that I’ll never be a knight and never see ___(11)____ again.”
“We’ll still become knights. We’ll see our horses again,” ___(2)____ replied, pushing a piece of wood away from ___(7)____. He slapped her flank hard, so that she would run away. And with that ___(7)____ was gone.
“I’ll never be a knight. I’ll never see ___(11)____ again,” ___(3)____ repeated and sent ___(11)____ off.
After the fire the two squires moped around for a few days. They frowned and thought longingly about their horses.
But after a time they began to get back to work. Knight __(12)_____ continued to teach them.
Still ____(3)___ continued to say, “we’ll never see our horses again, and we’ll never be knights.”
And just as often ___(2)____ would reply, “We’ve been promised knighthood and we’ve been promised that __(11)_____ and ___(7)____ are our horses forever.”
___(3)____ would reply, “that’s ridiculous… but I’ll still practice.”
And ____(2)___ would counter, “I will live assuming knighthood is coming and those horses are always ours.”
And so it went for years and years. They queen continued to watch the two squires from afar. And one day she said to Knight ___(12)____, “find those horses.”
And __(12)_____ traveled far and wide, from the __(13)_____ Ocean to the ___(14)____ Mountain. Finally, near the ___(15)____ cliffs Knight ___(12)____ noticed a ___(5)____... something in the distance. He climbed the cliffs and soon enough that ___(5)____ something turned into a ___(5)____ horse with ___(6)____speckles. And ____(11)___ was close by too!
Then one day ___(2)____ and ___(3)____ were called to the royal stables.
And there, amongst the horse droppings and hay, was queen ___(4)____.
She said to the two squires, “I’ve seen how you continue to train to be knights.”
And before she could finish ___(7)____ neighed from behind her, and the two squires saw Knight __(12)_____ holding the reigns of ___(11)____ and ___(7)____.
The queen continued, “You have your horses, and its time for you to become knights.”
Both squires broke into smiles and tears. ___(2)____ was confirmed in his continued hope in the promise that the queen had told him.
___(3)____, on the other hand, was at first ashamed, but then simply overcome with gratitude by the continued truthfulness of Queen ___(4)____’s promise.
___(4)____, the Queen of __(1)_____ took a special interest in ___(2)____ and ___(3)____. In fact she so wanted them to succeed as knights that she gave them each a horse that she promised was there’s forever. Additionally she promised them that when they were ready she would make them knights.
___(2)____’s horse was ___(5)____ with ____(6)___ speckles. Her name was___(7)____. __(3)_____’s horse was ___(8)____ with a __(9)_____ __(10)_____ on the right side of his face. His name was ___(11)____.
Also knight __(12)_____, the most famous knight in the entire kingdom of ___(1)____, gave the two squires lessons on how to be a knight. They also rode their horses every day, practiced sword fighting and polished their armor.
Then one night ___(2)____ and ___(3)____ woke up to people shouting, “the stables are burning the stables are burning!”
“Oh no!” said __(2)_____.
They both rushed to the stables and found ___(7)____ and __(11)_____.
The two horses were scared and trapped—the only way to get them out was to get them to run away.
“We have to let them go,” said _(2)______.
___(3)____ replied, “I… I know…but… but…if we do that I’ll never be a knight and never see ___(11)____ again.”
“We’ll still become knights. We’ll see our horses again,” ___(2)____ replied, pushing a piece of wood away from ___(7)____. He slapped her flank hard, so that she would run away. And with that ___(7)____ was gone.
“I’ll never be a knight. I’ll never see ___(11)____ again,” ___(3)____ repeated and sent ___(11)____ off.
After the fire the two squires moped around for a few days. They frowned and thought longingly about their horses.
But after a time they began to get back to work. Knight __(12)_____ continued to teach them.
Still ____(3)___ continued to say, “we’ll never see our horses again, and we’ll never be knights.”
And just as often ___(2)____ would reply, “We’ve been promised knighthood and we’ve been promised that __(11)_____ and ___(7)____ are our horses forever.”
___(3)____ would reply, “that’s ridiculous… but I’ll still practice.”
And ____(2)___ would counter, “I will live assuming knighthood is coming and those horses are always ours.”
And so it went for years and years. They queen continued to watch the two squires from afar. And one day she said to Knight ___(12)____, “find those horses.”
And __(12)_____ traveled far and wide, from the __(13)_____ Ocean to the ___(14)____ Mountain. Finally, near the ___(15)____ cliffs Knight ___(12)____ noticed a ___(5)____... something in the distance. He climbed the cliffs and soon enough that ___(5)____ something turned into a ___(5)____ horse with ___(6)____speckles. And ____(11)___ was close by too!
Then one day ___(2)____ and ___(3)____ were called to the royal stables.
And there, amongst the horse droppings and hay, was queen ___(4)____.
She said to the two squires, “I’ve seen how you continue to train to be knights.”
And before she could finish ___(7)____ neighed from behind her, and the two squires saw Knight __(12)_____ holding the reigns of ___(11)____ and ___(7)____.
The queen continued, “You have your horses, and its time for you to become knights.”
Both squires broke into smiles and tears. ___(2)____ was confirmed in his continued hope in the promise that the queen had told him.
___(3)____, on the other hand, was at first ashamed, but then simply overcome with gratitude by the continued truthfulness of Queen ___(4)____’s promise.
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