Luther's Greatest hits from his commentary on Ecclesiastes

Luther’s Greatest Hits:

“The subject or matter of this book is simply the human race, which is so foolish that it seeks and strives for many things by its efforts which it cannot attain or which, even if it does attain them, it does not enjoy but possesses to its sorrow and harm, as the fault not of the things themselves, but of its own foolish affections.”

“Incompetent legislators are a curse from God.”

“When the heart is empty of cares and yet something happens to it that is pleasant or some interesting sight comes alone, this is very delightful.”

“Humans are like a dog who attacks his reflection in a pond and in so doing drops his bone.”

“Since, we shall not take anything with us, let us share it with others.”

It is better to bear with and to endure a moderate amount of rebellion than to let the entire state perish."

The Book of Ecclesiastes in a nutshell:

I'm finishing up my Bible Study about the book of Ecclesiastes and this is my summary:

Both constructive and destructive things will happen in life.

We can’t easily tell if they relate to our moral or immoral acts.

Life is better and safer when lived wisely and in community.

Life is fragile, especially so if you are foolish or if fools are in power.

Possessions can be helpful in life, but they can also possess us.

Taking all this into consideration:

We should find equilibrium in the enjoyment of our work and our play.

Twenty Questions in Ten Weeks

I asked my parishioners to write down their theological questions and I would answer them for the 10 weeks of summer. Here are the subjects they want me to touch on: God’s Will, Worship, Angels and Demons, Calendar, Gay Marriage, Sin and Forgiveness, Messiah, Heavenly Reward and Equality, Affliction and Death, and The Law.

They want to know how to discern God’s will, without being presumptuous.

They want to know precisely what Lutheran believe about the Sacrament of Holy Communion and our use of the Cross in worship.

They want to know about Angels and the Gerasene Demoniac.

A Teenage Boy (because who else asks questions like this) from the Seventh Day Adventist Church who worship in our building on Saturday has very particular questions about our use of calendar.

With the legality of Gay Marriage, and our church being the only one in town who could perform such a thing, they want to know what our Denomination’s relationship to marriage and Gay-folk.

They have questions about degrees of sin and where the root of sin is, as well as “the office of the keys.”

They want to know about our Jewish Brother’s and Sisters and how they see Jesus (I may bring in a Rabbi to help out on this one).

Jesus has this annoying tendency of talking about Heavenly Rewards and there is language of being the greater and lesser in the Kingdom of God, which rubs against both American egalitarianism as well as some of Paul’s egalitarian language… so they want me to square that circle.

They also were curious about the Pauline language about Death Dying and about “Completing what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions.”

Finally, there was a question about how much of Moses’ Laws we Christians need to keep.

Pentecost and Confirmation

            The disciples, on Pentecost, are struck by the breath of God, 

a wind,

the Spirit.

            Upon them landed tongues of fire, and they were able to tell the plethora of peoples, from all over the place, Parthians, Medes, Elamites, etc. present at Pentecost,

tell them about what God had done through Jesus Christ.

         And to this powerful movement of God—this new thing God was doing which we celebrate today—Pentecost, some respond, “What does this mean?”

            Let us Pray

            What does this mean?

The ultimate Lutheran question… the one Luther comes back to time and time again in his Small Catechism.

            A question supposedly inspired by his son, Hans, who asked it time and time again

—Luther was the first theologian in the West for 700 years who had a kid in wedlock, and therefore was consistently in Hans’ life,

and therefore when he would try to theologize out there in the clouds

Hans would drag him down to earth by asking that simple question, “Pappa, Was Ist Das?”

What does this mean?

            What does this mean? They ask the disciples.

What does it mean that the Gospel is being proclaimed in a multitude of languages?

What is the meaning of these fisher men come Fishers of Men preaching like this.

            And Peter has an answer—he knows his bible and responds to their question by quoting the book of Joel, explaining that the great and horrible Day of the Lord,

when justice shall come and shall be meted out,

when all will be made right,

the day when salvation shall come,

is at hand.

He answers that their words in many languages is an expansion of the prophetic ministry of the days of old.

That signs like those in Egypt during the time of Moses, when God passed over his people and brought them from slavery into freedom, have fallen afresh through the life death and resurrection of Jesus the Christ.

Haley, Matthew, and Jared—in these last two years of confirmation class you’ve ran into that question “What does this mean?” a time or two.

         I hope, that these last two years have been a sort of associate’s degree in Jesus.

         I hope that you have a broad foundation in the gospel of Jesus Christ. That together we’ve deepened our commitment to Jesus’ body in the world, the Church.

         In these last two years I hope you’ve developed a sort of tool box of the Faith.

         That I’ve given you tools to engage with the questions that will come to you throughout your life.

         I hope that when someone asks you “What does this mean?”

Like Peter,

you will have a broad overview of scripture from which you can quote.

         When they ask you about Christian history,

you can take them from Paul to Augustine from Luther to Bonhoeffer.

         When they ask what this daily bread thing means,

you can expand out the meaning of that prayer to encompass friends and family, food and shoes—everything that is life giving and nourishing.

         When they engage you about the sacraments and ask, “can bread do that?”

you know to respond, “No, it’s the promise ‘given for you’ and ‘shed for you’ that bring about forgiveness.

         When someone snidely asks you if you’re part of a creedal church,

you can drill down on all three articles of the Apostle’s Creed.

         When arguments break out about where the 10 commandments should be placed in public and private places,

you will already know the commandments and their meaning whether or not they’re present with you.

         When you pray

you can draw on Francis of Assisi and Julian of Norwich with equal admiration.

         When your grandma asks about the heavy red book in the pews,

you can take her from Calendar to Communion through the Psalms and Songs all the way to the Small Catechism at the end where it asks that o’ so Lutheran question: “What Does This Mean?”

         And ultimately the answer to that question, “What does this mean?” Goes beyond confirmation. Ultimately it is about more than an Associate’s Degree in Jesus, a well-stocked toolbox, and answers to questions, no matter how deep.

Ultimately it is about Confirming your Baptism—about what Water, Word, and Spirit did to you on that day long ago.

         That the Holy Spirit called you through the Gospel, enlightens you with Her gifts, made you holy and keeps you in the true faith, just as She does the whole Church, the Body of Christ.

         Daily the Holy Spirit forgives us all our sins—both yours and mine—and will raise you up and give you eternal life.

         Today we’re confirming the Spirit’s work, confirming that you are part of that one Body—that you drink of that one Spirit.

         That you are one of those who Peter spoke of—one of those enlivened by the Spirit. You are young men who see visions, you are daughters who Prophecy.

         Today is your confirmation that you, like Peter, empowered by the Spirit, will point to what God is doing through his Son Jesus Christ.

A+A

Sermon: “Why Y’all lookin’ up?”

           I remember one of my first days at the University of Oregon. We all crowded into Mac Court, home of the Duck’s Basketball Team—but we weren’t there to play or watch basketball, we were there to hear Poet Maya Angelou speak at our Commencement Address.

            I don’t remember much of what she said, though I do remember the deep feeling that her words caused to welled up in my heart, a feeling of possibility, a feeling of fully leaving Wyoming behind and entering into a different world.

            And I remember later reading a poem of hers written to an anonymous preacher.

            And, in memory of her and as a way to think about today’s reading from the book of Acts, I would like to read that poem to you all:

Preacher, Don't Send Me



Preacher, don't send me


when I die


to some big ghetto


in the sky


where rats eat cats


of the leopard type


and Sunday brunch


is grits and tripe.


I've known those rats


I've seen them kill


and grits I've had


would make a hill,


or maybe a mountain,

so what I need


from you on Sunday


is a different creed.



Preacher, please don't


promise me


streets of gold


and milk for free.


I stopped all milk


at four years old


and once I'm dead


I won't need gold.



I'd call a place


pure paradise


where families are loyal


and strangers are nice,


where the music is jazz


and the season is fall.


Promise me that


or nothing at all.


            Such words…

she lifts up the false heavens that come so easy from the lips of preachers—of streets of gold and milk for free, images that, when overused or misused, are, to quote Johnny Cash, “so Heavenly Minded They’re No Earthly Good.”

            Such words…

She points us to the hell we sometimes find ourselves in, malnourished monotony and the grim and grimy reality of giant ghetto rats.

            Such words…

she anchors us in the heaven of small decent things—loyal family, the kindness of strangers, good music, and a favorite season.

         What I want to talk to you about briefly today is witnessing to the world—witnessing to the world.

         And to get at what I mean by witness and what I mean by world we’ll have to look at their opposites in today’s reading, a worldly kingdom and a heaven fixation.

         Or to break it down a little more by borrowing from Maya Angelou,

I want to talk to you about the glitter of heaven and power,

and how the small things that give life meaning can speak and save in this gruff world.

             Let us pray.

“Is it the time when you will restore the kingdom?”

         How often we’ve heard such words.

In the wilderness Jesus is tempted by Satan, “just bow down to me and I’ll give you all the Kingdoms of this world.”

         The crowd at one point seizes Jesus to crown him and make him king, and it is all he can do to escape from them.

         Counterwise, he rides into Jerusalem on a decidedly non-regal Donkey and when asked by Pilate if he is a king, Jesus responded mysteriously, “It is you who say I am.”

         In short, Jesus’ Kingdom is of a different type than all expect…

        

         Yet here we are, with the disciples again grasping at a political kingdom,

and not laying hold of one.

         Instead Jesus responds, “It’s not for you to know…” instead of a kingdom in this world Jesus offers them an opportunity—to witness to the ends of the earth about Jesus.

         To tell the whole world that Jesus lived, died, and rose.

         To tell them as well, of the strange enthronement, the strange kind of king, that Jesus is. He’s a king acquainted with sorrow—more than that, acquainted with our sorrow, yes, each and every one of ours.

         Witness has nothing to do with the glitter of kingship and power.

         Witness is a small thing, a weak thing, held together by no army or castle wall, instead an open hand, a simple story shared by word of mouth.         

A weak small thing, but pure paradise,

like a loyal family or jazz, or anticipating fall—dying leaves and cool air—small weak things,

yet powerful, just in a different way.

So too telling that old old story of Jesus and his love.

         And then almost immediately after Jesus tells the disciples to witness, to tell people of their experience of him—to go out to Jerusalem, and Judea, and Samaria, and to all the ends of the earth in the power of the Spirit and the strange weakness of witnessing…

         Immediately after that comes one of my all-time favorite bible verses—Acts Chapter 1 verse 11.

         These men in white, presumably the same ones we first meet at the tomb announcing Christ’s resurrection on Easter Sunday, wander up to these disciples all agape at the Ascension of Jesus, and ask, “Why y’all lookin’ up?”

         These heavenly beings find the disciples’ heavenly-minded-ness to be out of place.

         It’s like they’re following Maya Angelou’s lead, “gold and milk shimmer, but aren’t something to hold onto.”

Don’t look up, but instead look around you—look out—you’ve been empowered to preach to the ends of the earth… You have good news, look around you and see all those who need it.

         Look to the crowded ghettos of Jerusalem,

To the squalor the Hellenist Widows will wallow in.

Look the giant prison rats in Philippi and Caesarea with Paul right in their eyes,

know clearly the hunger of all those people in Asia Minor yearning for the good news you know so well,

yes go even to Rome and to the end of the earth, eyes open to the conditions and situations of the people who Jesus’ Gospel has come to free.

         Word and witness—clear eyed about the world around us, but empowered by the Spirit to act in small, sacred, and significant ways so that Christ may be known.

…         That’s pure paradise.

Amen and Alleluia.

Preaching on the Hill of Ares

          Paul stepped into a very precarious place—one filled with Idols, and idle chatter, and high minded conversation—people trying to get to the root of what it meant to be human in that particular time and that particular place.

          Ideas popped up and were consumed faster than popcorn at a B-movie, it was a low tech version of a twitter, instagram, or facebook feed.

          There, on the Areopogas—the Hill of Ares.

          The Areopogas named for the famous first trial in Greek Myth. Ares, the god of war, murdered the son of Poseidon, the god of the sea, and was put on trial and acquitted…found innocent—right there, on that mountain.

          Yes, the Hill of Ares, the Areopogas, was a place bursting with new ideas both high brow and low,

filled with idols on every corner,

and yearning to lend Paul it’s ear,

 at least for a moment.

          And so, today I would like to preach on the subject, “Preaching on the Hill of Ares.”

Preaching on the Hill of Ares.

Prayer

          Paul, being Paul, had stirred up trouble in Northern Greece, and was whisked away to Athens to lay low for a while…

          But Paul… being Paul… didn’t lay low. He saw the Idols lining the streets of Athens and started arguing with people,

not only with his fellow Jews in the local Synagogue,

but also with the Greek Philosophers of various stripes who lined the streets. And quickly enough they drug him up the Hill of Ares in order to “find out what all these words he is sewing mean.”

          And there, on the Hill of Ares, he begins with a compliment, (perhaps backhanded?)“I see you are a very religious people.”

          He looks at those idols,

and the fast paced flinging around of ideas,

the people grabbing onto anything new,

and he sees it for what it is, people yearning for

and reaching for

and sometimes even finding,

the Creator of all that is, Seen and Unseen.

          He, in fact, talks to them, not with snide words, but in understanding.

He’s observed them,

those who he speaks to,

those gathered on the Hill of Ares as he preaches.

          He knows them, and knows their culture,

he speaks to them with words they understand.

          He alludes to E-pict-etus and Euripides, he quotes the stoic philosopher Aratus—he even compliments their pagan statues and altars!

          If he’d come today he might have talked about Comedian John Stewart’s interview with former Treasury Secretary Timothy Geithner, then made sure you knew he’d read the latest James Patterson book and was at a Lady Gaga concert and knew of both Michelle Bachmann and Michel Foucault (fuko).

          Then he’d go among a gaggle of soccer moms and say “I see you care deeply for you children—well you are God’s Children, and he cares about you too.”

          Or he’d burst into an office building and say, “I see you work hard, in fact you give your whole life to your work, well, let me tell you of the righteous works of God in Jesus Christ.”

          Or he’d tackle Richard Dawkins or Sam Harris or some other New Atheist, and say, “I see Religious people bother you

—well you wouldn’t believe what Religious people did when the Son of God dwelt among them,

they crucified him, but he rose again and has brought life to us all.”

         

          You see, when Paul preaches on the Hill of Ares he builds a bridge between his listener and his message, he makes sure they can cross over to hear what he’s staying.

          But not only that, he takes the idols of his age and refashions them…

          Kinda strange when you think of it, he doesn’t smash them like many would, instead he shows them for what they are—he redeems them.

He says, “This value you have, you’ve made into a God,

well it’s just part of God’s creation, and as such is good,

just not The Good, nor The Creator.”

          Think of Luther’s explanation of the 1st Commandment…

          (If I was in my St. Stephen I’d just point over there and Ask MaryLou to recite it from memory, in the German even, for us all.)

          Luther’s explanation is this, “We are to fear, love, and trust God above all things.”

          Because those things we fear, love, and trust are our gods, our idols.

          So Paul today takes those things we’ve deified, we’ve put on a throne somewhere

—he takes them and places them where they belong, as a part of creation.

          To the caffeine saturated stock jockey working 80 hours a week he says, “Hey, work is good, it feeds you and yours and orders your life,

but it’s not a god and it isn’t going to save you, don’t put your trust in it, don’t love it, don’t fear it.”

          To the widow paralyzed by her grief he says, “Hey, honoring your spouse and his memory is good,

but losing sight of your other obligations in life, is not. All your fears of loss, all your love of him, your trusting in your life as it was before he died—that has become misdirected.”

          To the man peaking out his window at neighbors of a different skin pigmentation or ethnic identity, bunkered down, loving his old neighbors who’ve left, trusting in his own kind, fearing those outside

Paul says, “Hey, you’ve made your messed up relationship toward them a god and you’re unable to follow the most basic of commandments, ‘Love God, Love your Neighbor,’”

          Yes, as Paul preaches on the Hill of Ares he changes the Idols of Athens into an affirmation that God is a whisker’s-length away, that in God and God alone “we live and move and have our being.”

         

          Yes there on the Hill of Ares he preaches…

and there, on the Hill of Ares,

          having built a bridge to the yearnings of Athens,

          having relativized the Idols,

          having pointed to the God and Parent of all of Creation,

          After all that he points back to that other god, haunting that hill…

He points to the trial of Ares, Ares was found justified in the killing of Posieden’s son, was judged innocent there.

          And so Paul preaches of another Judge, the one who was innocent and yet was killed.

          Of another judgment, found guilty and among sinners, and yet was holy and died and rose for sinners.

          The Judge who sees all our idols—the Pantheon of false gods we worship—we Athenians, and favors us anyway.

Whose Judgment acquits us of Sin and reconciles us to God and neighbor.

Jesus Christ, our Lord and our God, crucified and risen.

A+A

outside the gate Jesus meets us

          One of the tragedies of the Lectionary, is that it breaks up the Gospel of John to the point where it becomes a puzzle of sorts,

we read a bunch of I AM statements, and statements about Jesus’ connection to we, His Church… but they are just little islands scattered throughout the church year.

          For example, today’s reading from the Gospel of John immediately follows the story of the Blind man we read at the start of Lent.

Do you remember the blind man?

The man healed by Jesus.

He had no name, only a condition.

Once healed his friends abandoned him.

He was healed on the Sabbath… but the religious leaders declared “The Sabbath was made for rest, not liberation… work must not be done… even if it is healing work!”

And his townspeople drove him out—

out of the city gate,

out alone in the wilderness…

There the Religious Leaders follow him… and mock him…

Then Jesus meets him there, and calls the Religious Leaders Blind.

There, outside the gate, Jesus meets him.

Outside the gate…

Let us Pray

          Outside the gate, they meet.

          Yet at the gate Jesus redefines what’s going on.

          He flips the boundaries of the man’s life, and turns everything inside out.

          The gate, which was to keep the blind man out

—out of participation in Sabbath Rest,

out of his family,

out of his city,

even keep him without a name—The gate has dissolved… for there is only one gate—Jesus Christ, and he has entered into the safety found there.

         

          It reminds me of a gag on the TV show Futurama, in it Bender, a robot, and Fry, a human, are rooming together… but apartments for robots are essentially closets, so Fry is squished in there with Bender, who simply turns himself off in order to sleep.

          Well, one day, after Fry is so bent and sore from sleeping in the closet with Bender, Bender says, “I need to put something in my closet,” and opens up a door to a giant apartment!

          It’s like that

—the Blind man is chased out of a gate

—out of a place of protection

—but finds himself entering into a real gate,

a life giving gate,

one that functions as it should.

          And Jesus is not a gate of exclusion, but a shelter in the time of storm and a circle of protection.

When we are driven out, Jesus shelters us in his arms,

calls us by name,

sees us,

liberates us,

and keeps us safe.

          In short, there are those things and people who would come to steal, kill, and destroy. Jesus protects us from them and fosters an abundant life.

          I think of a friend of mine, Dan. He’s working a retail job that’s killing him. It’s a relatively low skill job—he’s easily replaceable, and his bosses let him know that regularly. He sometimes goes weeks without a full day off. His colleagues don’t particularly like him. He’s constantly asked to do more and more with less and less, and because of his credit card debts he doesn’t say anything in protest.

          I imagine he feels kind of like the blind man did, without Sabbath rest, a nameless cog, perhaps he even feels like he’s assailed by thieves and bandits.

          But it’s a different story when Dan makes it to Church. He’s on his Vestry, he’s respected and enjoys his responsibility.

          He knows he’s a beloved Child of God there and the work he does with his church is meaningful.

          He has ongoing relationships there, both with his extended family and with people who are like family.

          And at our best, church can be that—the very body of Christ. We can be like the earliest church

—breaking bread together,

sharing together,

praying together,

tending the needy,

devoting ourselves to the word and even doing wonders and signs for one another…

          In other words, at our best, we are the place where people find some of that abundant life Jesus offers.

          You know, with all this talk of abundant life and death dealing powers, I’m hyper aware of the deaths of Milton, Velma, and my seminary friend Rodney.

          Rodney died of an aneurism,

completely unexpected

—he left behind a wife and two young daughters

…it felt like a thief came and took away our beloved friend. That the aneurism came to kill, steal, and destroy.

          But, then, last Monday, we all gathered together—it was like Lutheranism invaded Jamaica Queens.

And we all went into New Hope Lutheran:

The Eulogies lasted for over an hour and a half,

the Seminary’s rock band—of whom he had been the drummer—played,

and Bishop Rimbo preached,

and we all got together around a meal in the basement…

and we were all gathered there.

          Gathered within the living gate of Christ’s community—consoling one another, we entered in and we found pasture.

          We entered into New Hope Lutheran,

coming from up and down the East Coast, entering that church alone…

 but upon entering we found one another and the whole thing opened up

—Christ showed up there.

          The closet was a giant apartment,

the city gate we were driven from led into a safe field of abundant life.

There, outside the gate, Jesus meets us.

Amen.