All Saints Sunday Sermon "On the Blessing and Woes of Jesus and the Kingdoms of Daniel"

           On my right, I see folk my mom met in Kenya who are building their small, living room sized house,

brick by brick,

section by section,

for years on end, decades on end,

finally completing their house around the same time as they retire, because only the rich and well connected can receive building loans in that country.

Blessed are you.

            On my right, I see the 10 year old look-out-kid back in North West Baltimore, who risked police arrest and gang violence,

because that corner’s drug dealers gave him a chicken-box a day to take home for dinner, so that he wouldn’t go hungry that night.

Blessed are you.

            On my right, I see the 40 plus names of all those people connected to St. Stephen who died since last All Saint’s Sunday, and I see all those who mourn so profoundly.

Blessed are you.

            On my right, I see kidnapped Bishops in Syria, Burnt Churches and Christians in Pakistan and Nigeria.

Blessed are you.

            On my left, I see well off folk, with easy access to liquidity and an ability to use their wealth to create more wealth.

Woe to you.

            On my left, I see a people well fed, healthy, unworried about where their next meal will come from.

Woe to you.

            On my left, I see those entertained, enjoying being included, valued, and loved.

Woe to you.

            On my left, I see super-star preachers, mega-church attendees, successful religious entrepreneurs and the kind of people invited to pray at prayer breakfasts.

Woe to you.

            And, I wonder,

What is in the space in between these two?

What makes hated Martyrs and mourning widows blessed?

What makes healthy, happy, well fed folk the target of woes?

         In the deep place between those two sides of things—the twin hills of woe and blessing, is a kingdom in that valley.

The Kingdom of God.

The Kingdom of God.

Prayer

         In today’s reading from the book of Daniel, we read of Daniel’s disturbing dream—of beasts and beastly kingdoms, and of one like a human being and a holy, humane, kingdom.

         And the thrust of this dream is that God’s kingdom transcends these other kingdoms,

these beastly kingdoms.

         It transcends them both morally and existentially—

the Kingdom of God is Humane, while the Beastly Kingdoms are monstrous.

The Kingdom of God is eternal, while the Beastly Kingdoms won’t last always.

         This reality of the Kingdom of God, its moral and existential superiority over and against any and all kingdoms of this world, shapes Jesus’ blessings and woes.

         Jesus says woe

 to the rich, filled, laughing, and respected

because they are doing well in a system that is not the Kingdom of God… if you do well in a monstrous system you yourself become monstrous… you yourself have been morally compromised somehow—

we all have.

         We have in a million different ways, become adjusted to injustices

small and large.

We don’t notice the little ones our culture is built off of,

the variety of vulnerable people sacrificed in every social structure.

         Yes, woe to we who have been co-opted by our respective cultures and become unconscious of the ways we fall short of the Kingdom of God.

         And for that matter, woe to us, for the fall will be great.

         The more we trust in those things which make us rich, filled, joyful, and respected, the worse it will be when those limited thing fall away.

         Think quite simply of the events of a year ago—when Hurricane Sandy stuck us and hobbled us.

         We rely so heavily on systems of transportation and electricity, that when it was pulled out from under us, we fell quickly—

relying on gas in our tanks, heat and light in our homes

failed us.

         But imagine how unchanged everything was for those in our society without homes, or cars, or electricity. Their fall was small. The fall of those who rely on these things, was great.

        

         Now, please understand I’m not condemning all structures equally or suggesting we need to opt out of society—

In fact there are few greater dangers than people of good will turning their back on the world in which they live.

         No, I’m simply saying it’s worth reflecting on how our ways of life miss the mark of the Kingdom of God.

         Similarly to his woes, Jesus’ blessings find their foundation in his proclamation of the Kingdom of God.

         This reflection on—

this compare-and-contracts with—

the Kingdom of God and the Kingdoms of this World.

Faithful reflections on the morality of the societies we live in—

these blessings and woes, cause us to ask the question:

“What kind of Kingdom begins with the blessing of those who are vulnerable?”

         Let me repeat that, “What kind of Kingdom begins with the blessing of those who are vulnerable?”

         This question opens up a window from which we can glimpse the Kingdom of God.

         It points us to a foundation of the Faithful Rule of The Righteous One.

         The Kingdom of God, this trans-historical kingdom—

this kingdom within time, but also beyond time—

continually breaks in, in every age—

within every kingdom that claims to be totalizing,

claims to be the complete package,

claims confidence and control,

claims our trust and reliance.

         It breaks in and reminds us that the King of the Kingdom of God is

One like a human being—

One like the Son of Man.

         One who proclaims good news to the poor,

fills the hungry with good things,

wipes away every tear,

and rewards the faithful with the faithfulness of the Ancient One.

         It is such good news to the poor, hungry, weeping, persecuted.

         The times when the Kingdom of God comes clearly near, are such a blessing to the vulnerable.

         On my left I hear woes.

         Woes which point to our moral compromises and insist that we become freshly aware of, and maladjusted to, the injustices around us.

         Woes warning of the inevitable fall that happens when we hitch our wagon to a horse heading off a high hill.

         On my right, I hear blessings.

         Blessings that point to another kingdom—one that doesn’t begin by sacrificing the vulnerable, but instead begins by blessing them.

         Blessings that erupt from time to time, blessings from the King of Kings and Lord of Lords, Jesus Christ.

         Between these blessings and woes, we find the Kingdom of God.

Amen and Alleluia.

Reformation Sunday

Reformation Sunday

         The Lutheran Reformation—the story of a man convinced and convinced by the Word of God.

Luther standing up against the powerful Holy Roman Emperor and the god-like Pope, and holding his own, and holding onto his faith.

Luther’s brave-trickery, sneaking his wife out of a nunnery in a barrel of fish oil and Luther dressing as a knight in order to thwart an attempted kidnapping.

         If you let it, Reformation Sunday can become more about the man than his message.

         So today, I want to tell you about the central messages of the Lutheran Reformation:

Grace and Faith,

The Word of God,

& The Mysterious Cross of Christ.

Let us Pray

         As we read in Romans today, We are justified by God’s Grace—his gift through the redemption found in Jesus Christ, effective through Faith.

         Grace and Faith, two enormous touchstones of the Reformation.

         Grace is Central—we, though bound to sin and unable to free ourselves, are freed by God.

God is always the one who saves us.

Nothing we do can bring about God’s saving act.

         Even as we rattle around in our chains we insist “we have never been slaves to anyone,”

and so it is God alone who comes to us and snaps Sin’s hold upon us and insists we are free.

        

         It’s October, which means it’s election season, and we get those pamphlets and letters from everyone trying to get us to vote for them.

You know the one’s I’m talking about, those post cards with one side all cheery and pretty and bright, with a color glossy photo of Candidate X on it. Then on the back is a black and white photo of a tired haggard opponent surrounded by words like “Dangerous, Wrong, and Scary.”

         Well, the crazy thing about Grace

 and how we relate to it,

is that we spend so much time sending pamphlets like that to God,

but the wild truth of it is,

God voted in a special election a while back and there is nothing we can do to change God’s costly vote for us

through the life, death, and resurrection of His Son.

        

         All we can do is trust that this is true.

Trust that God is for us.

Have faith in Jesus’ actions.

         To be confident that while “the soul is full of sin, death, and condemnation,” “Christ is full of grace, life, and salvation.”

Have faith in that Great Exchange!

 Where Christ takes sin, death, and hell

and in return grace, life, and salvation is given to you!

         And maybe you’ve heard that all before, but consider the alternative.

         Luther was faced with abuses in which forgiveness was sold and faced with various schemes that could be summed up as “Jesus Plus.”

Jesus plus Good Works,

Jesus plus authority,

Jesus plus plunder.

         But what then?

What of Good Works?

Why do good if we don’t have to strong-arm God into loving you?

         Good Works become responses to this exchange between us and Christ.

Responses to God’s grace.

Responses to God’s unfailing love for us.

         When we are shocked by God’s gracious actions for us, we cannot help but look around us and see our neighbor in need.

         When we ask ourselves “What do we do, when we have nothing we have to do?”

We respond, “I am slave to none, yet servant to all.”

         When we stop trying to storm heaven we see our sisters and brothers beside us now.

        

         This doctrine of Grace & Faith Alone, came from Luther’s close reading of the Apostle Paul, and so you could say it came from the second message of the Reformation, which is that:

“The Word of God is Central to Faith.”

         Scripture is the norm of our faith and life as Christians.

It is the true standard by which teaching and doctrine is to be judged.

         When we have questions about meaning, when we have why questions,

we turn to the Word.

         And in Luther’s day the Word was much neglected.

There were tales of Priests with books of sermons, but no bibles.

Theologians using ancient books of Aristotelian Zoology to understand the mind of God.

Luther reports of Pastors who didn’t know the Lord’s Prayer or the 10 Commandments, let alone were able to read the Gospels in the original Greek or even in a Latin translation.

And so Luther did the long hard work of translating scripture into his native tongue, so that it might be turned to again as a central part of the faith.

        

         And the Centrality of Scripture—Word Alone—could easily start to sound like a slippery slope toward Fundamentalism. 

But as Lutherans we focus on how we experience scripture—

How we experience it as a two edged sword.

         Scripture is Central, in so far as it comes to us as Law and Gospel.

         As Law, Scripture is a Window and a Mirror.

         It is a Window for us to look out of, to judge if our society is acting justly—it is a good place to find some basic rules of life.

         We experience it as a Mirror when it reminds us that we are sinners,

it convicts us and catches us as we are.

When it, like a sheepdog of the soul, chases us sinners to the foot of the cross and into the arms of a loving God—then Scripture is acting as Law.

        

         As Gospel, Scripture reminds us of God’s grace and strengthens our faith.

         It points to Faith and Grace.

         It points to Christ’s embracing arms from the cross.

         Yes, the Cross, the final Central message of the Lutheran Reformation.

The Cross, that strange and scandalous symbol.

         Lutherans are forever astounded by Christ on the Cross.

         Think of it. The Son of God executed by religious people and the political powers that be.

         Jesus born in lowly a manger, not a castle,

riding on a donkey, not a warhorse.

         Finding God in these places calls us to look for God in the last place we’d expect.

         Finding God there radically re-orients us-sinners away from where we expect to find wisdom and goodness and God.

         It reminds us that if God is found amongst the suffering and death of the cross, then perhaps the world is not as we thought.

         It also makes us constantly aware that our “religiosity” can be dangerous and seeking power can crucify Christ.

         It calls us to a humble faith in a humble savior.

         Not in the pomp of Rome, or the seats of secular power,

Not prosperity, or wisdom

But in the catechesis of a child,

a family at prayer,

the consolation and joy of Christian community,

the washing baptismal waters,

the simple trustworthy words “given and shed for you.”

         So today, yes we celebrate Martin Luther tacking 95 theses to a church door, but we also celebrate the larger shape of our faith.

We celebrate with humility that God is with us where we least expect.

We celebrate the Word of God that both cleaves our sinful soul and points us to our Savior.

We celebrate that we can trust God’s love for us through Christ Jesus and share it with our neighbor in many ways. A+A

Recording Sermons

So, a while back a few members, some homebound, asked me to preach to video so they could go online and hear God's word for the last week.
Well, after much fiddling with iMovie, my camera and a tripod, I've managed to capture these three sermons, not exactly high quality, but I'm trying:

Jacob is Jibekking at the Jabbok

Jacob is Jibekking at the Jabbok

          Today, we are confronted with a man named Jacob. We find Jacob at the Jabbok. And there, at the Jabbok river, Jacob Jibeks… That is, in the Hebrew, wrestles. Jacob wrestles.

          And I think it is no coincidence that this name, this place, and this action are all tightly linked in this story, Jacob Jibekking at the Jabbok.

No, this is no coincidence. This alliteration is illustrating a point. This jumble of Js, B’s and K’s are holding up this whole story.

          And so, I want to tell you all a little something about Jacob Jibekking at the Jabbok.

Jacob Jibekking at the Jabbok.

Prayer

          Oh Jacob. Your name linked to a constant struggle.

          Grasping your brother’s heel within the womb. Grappling your brother’s birthright from him in a moment of hunger—selling him out for some stew. Grabbing his blessing from him by tricking your blind father Isaac. Wrestling wives, riches, and more from your father-in-law.

          And here in the night, at the Jabbok River it all catches up to you—all that struggle. As you rush away from your father-in-law, you rush back, toward your brother, your brother who you double crossed.

          Yes, you are wrestling with what this name has done to you and what you’ve done with this name.

          Yes, there at the Jabbok River you are confronted with the depths of your life.

          You are so frightened by your brother, who is coming forth to meet you with an army of 400. You expect him to be angry at you for all you’ve done against him. This furry red mountain man brother of yours, who is good with a bow, who you have defeated only with your cunning—is coming at you.

Yes, this man is bearing down on you and you hide there on the other side of the Jabbok.

          You split your herds and wealth up into two pieces and send them forward to your brother in two waves. Then you sent another wave of your wealth toward that brother you tricked. And still more, you sent your wives and children on ahead of you, to the other side of the Jabbok.

          Yes, for his wrath to get to you he’d have to go through herds and harems, and women and children, and that river—the Jabbok River.

          Yes, you feel secure there on the other side of the Jabbok…alone.

          But, rivers at night are strange places. Water crossings are, as Celtic Christianity will later call them, thin places. (EG Billy Goats Gruff, Dryads, Trolls)

Places where past and present,

 God and Humans,

things seen and things unseen,

have a way of crossing over to one another.

          And something does cross over. A man, a man whom you wrestle, you Jibek with.

          Yes, there, that night into the morning, you wrestle with … someone.

          You wrestle with your nature—being Jacob who tricks and wrestles, and always must come out on top at the expense of someone else.

You wrestle with your brother Esau, just as you did in Rebecca’s womb—

yes that night you were born and that night you Jibeked at the Jabbok

—that night you wrestled with all you’d done to your brother.

          That night, you also wrestled with God—the God who formed you in that womb, and who has followed you through all of your wrestling and trials and been with you despite your trickster nature.

          And you cling to God there—you cling to the infinite in this finite person—clinging to God in the form of a man, there by the Jabbok river.

          Yes, Jacob Jibekks at the Jabbok. Jacob clings to God in the form of a man.

He wrestles with his past,

his relationship with those he’s hurt,

his name and his very nature.

He steps through that thin place and comes out changed.

          Night turns to day.

          He receives a new name—Jacob becomes Israel. The Grasper becomes the one grasped by God.

          He is changed, made to limp, to humbly go forth always aware of God’s action that night.

          He meets his brother, and they are reconciled to one another

—embracing one another,

 becoming family again and journeying alongside one another

—no longer wrestling to see who is on top.

          Yes, Jacob stepped through a thin place and was changed, that night when Jacob Jibeked at the Jabbok.

And we too, in our Baptisms, have stepped through a thin place.

          We too, in that moment, are at a thin place—a watery crossroad of sorts.

A place we step through and are changed.

Where we are grasped by God in a loving embrace.

Where we receive a new name “Child of God.”

Where we are marked by the cross of Christ forever.

Where we can find reconciliation and family alongside us in this journey. 

Where the infinite comes to us in the finite—God in the person of the man Jesus Christ.

Behold, the water—the thin place—our Baptism.

A+A

God can’t be bribed, but can be thanked

         Did you hear that one about St. Peter standing at the pearly gates?

         Three men came by to enter into heaven.

         The first said, “Oh, you can let me right in, I’m from America and God has a special relationship with America.”

And Saint Peter let him right in.

         The second one coughed, and kept winking at St. Peter, and passed an envelope filled with 100-dollar bills to that Old Staint.

And Peter let him right in.

         And the third said, “I did all the right rituals, and I did some amazingly hard things, like climbing Mt. Everest and I also…”

Before this man could finish his sentence St. Peter waved him on through.

        

         I’m getting blank stares—you’ve never heard this one? Well, that’s because it’s not how God works.

         I want you to know this, God can not, in any way, shape, or form, be bribed, but God can be thanked.

God can’t be bribed, but God can be thanked.

Prayer

         God can’t be bribed.

         God can’t be bribed by national allegiances.

         Where you’re born, what country you are a citizen of, has no bearing on God’s love for you.

         Look at Naaman. He is the military commander of the nation of Aram, a nation at war with Israel, and yet it is said, “Because of him the LORD had given victory to Aram.”

         God’s the God of all the earth, not just Israel.

         Not only has God entered into Naaman’s actions, but as we read Naaman is healed by God.

         So too, the Samaritan—healed by Jesus along with 9 other lepers.

         In both cases, the national origin of these men do not goad God into action.

        

         And just so you know, there has been, quite often, in the history of Christianity a mistake made, that ties national identity—patriotism even—tightly to faith and even to God. Since the earliest days of Pagan Rome “Deo et Patria” “God and Country” get entangled again and again.

         In fact, one of the most important non-biblical books ever written, St. Augustine’s City of God, was written in response to a crisis. Christianity had clung too close to the Roman Empire, and when its capital city was sacked, people genuinely wondered,

“Can Faith continue?

Has God abandoned us?

Is it Jesus’ Kingdom of God which lies in ruined rubble there in Rome?”

         For that matter, in England, where there is a State Church, there are people who have never been baptized, never set foot in a church, never even opened a Bible, but assume they are upstanding members of the Church of England, because they are English after all.

         And I would quickly add there are people here in America who make those same assumptions.

         But let it be known, God is not bribed by our allegiance to country.

        

         Neither is God bribed by our wealth.

         This is after all one of the founding assumptions of the Lutheran Reformation. In order to pay for St. Peter’s Cathedral people were commissioned to sell get out of purgatory free cards—even for sins not yet committed. And Luther saw this, and looked at his Bible and his church history, and said to this practice loudly and clearly, “No.”

         So too, if we read verses 4-6, in 2^nd Kings, we see that Naaman tried to bribe God, or at least God’s prophet, and fails. Because God is not bribed by our wealth.

         Finally, we read about what Naaman

hopes will happen to help his healing.

He expects waving of hands or some great quest or task, in order to cure him of his leprosy. Instead, he is simply told, “Wash, and be clean.”

         He hopes that some great or magical act will move God. Will make it clear that he will be healed, that God will show loving kindness to him.

         And we do the same sometimes, we look for signs, strain to grasp meaning and earn attention, yearn for easy, even magical, answers.

         But again, we find that neither good work nor ritual is an adequate or appropriate bribe for God.

         Yes, if Grace is true, if Grace abounds. If God really is for us and not against us,

then no amount of bribery, will make God for us and not against us,

No amount of bribery, will cause grace to abound

No amount of bribery, will make grace true

because it is already true, grace already abounds, God already is for us!

         Further, if a bribery scheme is needed, we know that Jesus has already bought us through his life, death, and resurrection.

         Our pittance of bribe to God or to the Devil, to father figures or to societal norms is cheap.

         But Christ’s gift to us, is both expensive—even the gift of his life—and is at the same time free—freely given.

         God cannot be bribed, but God can be thanked.

         As we read today of the Samaritan leper who returns to thank Jesus, we can notices that all 10 lepers are made clean, but only one is made well.

         Here thanksgiving is seeing what God has done… stopping, and being stunned by the magnificence of it.

         It is also speaking about the good thing God has done—letting people know how the good news of Jesus has become good news for you right now, concretely.

         Yes, thanksgiving involves seeing and speaking.

         And we humans might even be hardwired to do so.

         A study was recently conducted in which subjects were asked to reflect on, and then write about, someone they were thankful for, and why.

         Then they were connected with that person via Telephone and they read why they were thankful for that person.

         And the results were astonishing. The people who did this, the people who expressed their thankfulness, were less likely to be depressed for a whole month after. Likewise they were happier for a whopping six months after having thanked this person.

        

         But it’s not just realization and remembrance—seeing and speaking, that is thanksgiving, it is service of neighbor as well.

         In a sense, we can’t thank God for God’s goodness in any concrete way—but we can pass on those gracious gifts of God to our neighbors.

         For example, St. Stephen’s renewed interest in stocking the local food pantry in its time of need, is wonderful. It is a witness to our thankfulness—it is our recognition of where our daily bread comes from. We’re showing forth God’s grace through our gracious action.

         God can’t be bribed, but God can be thanked.

         Our nationality means nothing to God/ our recognition of His goodness does.

         Our money means nothing to God/ our telling people what God has done for us does.

         Our ritual and our struggle for His approval means nothing to God/ our service of our neighbor in need does.

         Have you heard the one about St. Peter standing at the pearly gates?

         Three men arrive at the gate. The first says “You won’t let me in, I was American.”

The second says, “You won’t let me in, I was rich.”

And the third says, “You won’t let me in, I was overly scrupulous and fixated on working my way into heaven.”

         And Jesus comes to the gate, and ushers them in, not on their merits, but because he loved them. And they rejoiced,

because God can’t be bribed, but God can be thanked. A+A