Let Go My Legos!

John 3:1-17 ~

My grandson Alex loves Legos. Who doesn’t, right? Back in November or December, when my husband and I asked our son Bill what he might suggest we get for Alex for Christmas, we were told that just about anything Legos would be great, that Alex was really into them.

Now, at the time Alex was not quite 4 – his birthday is in January. And as anyone familiar with Legos knows, the really good ones, the ones that make castles and planes and pirates ships and the really cool stuff that appeals to an almost any 4-year-old child, are recommended for children within certain age ranges – for instance, from 7 to 9 years old, or 8 to 12 years old, or something like that – and for good reason. A reason frequently overlooked when purchasing the Legos for that really bright child of yours. While you are sure this child has the ability to figure out how to build a master creation with these small blocks and all the teeny tiny pieces that come with them, they are not necessarily as easy to put together as they appear.

Finally, Christmas came and the family gathered at our house. Alex was uber-excited and happy with the Legos he received. And while the rest of us were all relaxing, preparing dinner and visiting with one another, our son Bill spent the rest of the day constructing Lego sets into the exact design required to replicate the castle, or the plane or the pirate ship pictured on each box, which was what was expected by little Alex.

Of course, by the time the blocks and the rest of Alex’s Christmas booty made it home, the pieces from the various sets were hopelessly dismantled and intermingled. And Alex was incapable of building the specified designs on his own, especially from the confusion of blocks in front of him now. So, a month later when it was time for Alex’s birthday celebration, the request came down from his parents – please – no more Legos!

There is something that often happens between the development of our expectations and how reality plays out. When we approach something with preconceived ideas thoroughly cemented by ironclad ideologies, it can be hard to comprehend and face the mental complexities that result when our ideas are challenged. Alex expected to be able to make those Legos into the desired designs easily, each and every time he brought them out (and the adults around him had no more realistic expectations, apparently). The Legos could, in fact, be built into other creations. They didn’t have to become a plane, a castle, or a pirate ship. They could probably also be made into a house, a sail boat or a train. They could come together to form a church or a school or a spaceship. However, Alex couldn’t comprehend those possibilities at first, couldn’t grasp that these blocks could come together in ways that he hadn’t even imagined.

In our gospel narrative, Nicodemus comes to Jesus under cover of darkness. He is a Pharisee – a leader within the Jewish holy establishment – a man of tradition, a man faithful to Jewish law. When Nicodemus came to visit Jesus he came with some preconceived ideas. He came with a firmly cemented ideology, with particular thoughts and philosophies and convictions about how things work – about how God, in particular, works. And he begins by saying to Jesus, “we know that you are a teacher who has come from God, for no one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God.” So far, so good, right? Rapidly, however, we begin to see that the darkness that shrouds Nicodemus also keeps him from comprehending the truth of Jesus’ radical, unexpected message.

Here in John’s gospel, where “signs” are not “miracles” but are actions and events that point to the presence and activity of God, and where the gospel repeatedly points to Jesus as the way that God is in the world and acts on behalf of the world, Nicodemus acknowledges that what Jesus is doing and saying points to God. But when Jesus answers Nicodemus with words about birth and water and Spirit, Nicodemus simply cannot understand what Jesus is saying.

The radical design and reality of God’s tremendous love and liberating Spirit don’t fit on or into the box of Nicodemus’s worldview. The deep darkness of his unbelief obscures his vision of God’s mysterious and redemptive work. The Lego pieces of his deeply-held convictions don’t fit into the radically creative and restorative design of God’s redeeming love for the whole world. Jesus changes the game. God is making a new creation in this kingdom of God, and all the old ideas and previous designs of our imagining are dismantled and redesigned through the cross of Christ.

Jesus says, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above.” The Greek word ἄνωθεν (anothen) can be translated “again”, “anew”, or “from above” – and here, it seems that Nicodemus assumes the first meaning – “again” - and is confused, because how can anyone be, literally born - again?

I don’t think that we can really blame poor Nicodemus for his inability to imagine new lives and a new world transformed by God in the radical nature of Jesus Christ. And, beyond this exchange, we don’t really know what the impact of this conversation with Jesus had on him. We do see him later in the gospel, as he half-heartedly speaks on behalf of Jesus to the temple elite, and then again, when he again comes under cover of darkness, this time to aid Joseph of Arimathea in preparing Jesus’ body for entombment following his crucifixion. The fact that he seemingly stuck around and continued in some way to grow into a follower of Christ would suggest that although he may have lacked belief in Christ during this visit, some kernel of faith was planted and slowly grew. And he was changed.

The thing is, that is the way of faith. In his gospel, John never uses the word “faith” as a noun. It is not something you “get” or something that belongs to you; it isn’t something that you possess or manipulate. Rather, in John’s gospel we see faith as a verb. It is an action word. It is continuously working, continuously growing, and continuously changing everything around it. Faith comes through the Spirit, which, as Jesus points out, blows where it will. It never rests. It never sits still. It cannot be fit into a box, be built into a cookie-cutter design, or be pinned down by expectations and pre-formed convictions. Rather, through the Spirit of God, given at our baptism, faith challenges our assumptions, and opens the door to living, breathing union with God that impacts and guides our actions and our lives, forever changing them. Faith confounds us.  

But it is not always easy. We’re not talking about a magic elixir that solves all of our problems and puts an end to the current pain and suffering of the world. Living on this side of the cross as we do, we are vulnerable, we remain broken, we are mortal, imperfect creatures who all too frequently behave as Nicodemus, and demand that our blocks fit together to meet our expectations to construct that picture on the box. We are often crushed by disappointment, devastation and despair when they do not.

The reality of living in this complex world means that we stand in the shadow of the cross of Christ, where dreams are sometimes shattered and suffering not only exists but seems to thrive. Planes fall inexplicably out of the sky and vanish without a trace. Buildings that have stood strong and firm for over one hundred years disappear in a flash, taking the lives of ordinary people going about their ordinary business. Young parents learn that their small child has terminal cancer, and there is nothing they can do about it. Unexpected phone calls forever change lives. Civil wars drive millions of innocent people into exile. Addictions steal dreams and destroy families. Bodies, minds and spirits are laid waste by failing health and aging. We could go on and on listing all the kinds of losses we endure, and all of the ways that the reality of the world confounds our expectations of justice, and of life as it should be.

And into that reality comes Jesus, rearranging our blocks and building something new, something beyond our imagining. God enters our fragile, hurting, suffering humanity in the Word made flesh, and joins us in our suffering. God chooses not to be aloof from us, God chooses to be in the trenches with us. God accompanies us through every triumph and every challenge of life. God lifts up those who suffer. God sends loving hands and spirits to aid those who are stricken.

The cross of Christ stands as witness to these facts, offering us a place where the suffering of the whole world is connected, and embraced in God’s loving care. “For God so loved the world that God gave God’s only son…God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the whole world may be saved through him”. The cross—and all the suffering, sadness, and sorrow it bears—stands as witness to God’s presence and power and embrace…promising that even in the abrupt changes, God is present, and somehow holding it all together: connecting us with one another, embracing us fully in His arms. And into this same world, God’s Spirit continually blows freely, bringing us comfort, strengthening us in every adversity, empowering us in Jesus’ name, and sending us into places we’d never imagined, to build up blocks of resiliency and love. As the darkness gives way to Jesus’ eternally penetrating light, may God grant us new life in this endless baptism of God’s grace.

         

The Devil Made Me Do It

Genesis 2:15-17; 3:1-7 ~ Lent I, 2014

        Back a few decades ago, a black comedian by the name of Flip Wilson made popular the phrase, “The devil made me do it,” in a comedy routine of his. The phrase became a modern catch-phrase, for light-hearted denial of responsibility for any wrongdoing. Wilson performed routines in which he built a story around this phrase on his own variety show, on the Ed Sullivan show, and in several other venues. “The devil made me do it” as an iconic phrase really caught on.

        Over the past few decades, several songs have been recorded and released, given this same title, “The Devil Made Me Do It”, in every genre of music from gangsta rap to rock to country-western, addressing situations from criminal liability to substance abuse to behavioral and relational indiscretions.

In 2009 it was widely reported when a 62-year old Washington state woman who was arrested and charged for stealing $73,000 from her church treasury told the detectives who questioned her, “Satan had a big part in the theft.”

And earlier this year the Huffington Post published a tongue-in-cheek analysis in the form of a fictional dialogue between the Devil and Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia. This followed a New York magazine interview, in which Justice Scalia reportedly revealed that not only did he believe in the devil, but he thought most Americans did, too.  The Huff Post piece reflected on some of the legal decisions Scalia wrote on last year, supposedly from the viewpoint of this belief.

A cursory glance at our scriptural texts today might also lead us to believe that all temptation and misdeeds indeed come from the devil. Through the centuries this kind of belief has led to interpretations and teachings that every evil is inspired and enacted by the devil and agents of the devil, which has led in turn to some historic atrocities, like the witchcraft trials and the Spanish Inquisition.

Today we’ll consider our Genesis text in particular, in light of some misconceptions that muddy our understanding of our relationship with God, evil and sin.

Our reading this morning starts toward the end of the creation story. God has been busy, taking the chaos, that formless void, and separating out waters and creating dry land, establishing boundaries between them. Nowhere does the text say that what God created was a perfect paradise, as we often think of the Garden of Eden. But God did create and establish a vast assortment of elements, creatures and things; God made sun and moon, stars and planets, and set them all in their courses. And what God created was good, it was very good, and God was pleased by it. It was balanced. It was blessed by God. But it was still lacking something, and so finally, God created man and woman.

God set them in the garden, this wonderful, diverse and rich creation, and gave them work to do. They were to till the ground and keep it. In return God would freely provide for them out of it. God, who is full of grace and love, would fill all their needs. And at the end of chapter 2 (verse 25), just before the second part of our text picks up today, we are told, “And the man and his wife were both naked, and were not ashamed.”

If we fast forward to the verses just after our assigned reading ends, right after the couple’s eyes “were opened”, the next words we read are, “They heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden at the time of the evening breeze, and the man and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God among the trees of the garden. But the Lord God called to the man, and said to him, “Where are you?” He said, “I heard the sound of you in the garden, and I was afraid, because I was naked; and I hid myself.” (Chapter 3, vs. 8 & 9)

What in the world happened between “and they were not ashamed” and “I was afraid,…..and I hid myself”?

Enter the wily serpent. Although we often think of this snake as an evil satanic figure, the text simply refers to the figure as “serpent.” In the Ancient Near East, the serpent was seen as a symbol of wisdom, though Genesis 3: renders the serpent as “crafty”. This cunning creature brings alienation between humans, and between humans and their god by bringing on doubt, fear, and distrust. The serpent instills in the man and woman a loss of focus and identity.

In the garden, the serpent encourages them to doubt; to count on their own “wisdom” rather than on God and God’s wisdom. The scene unfolded something like this:

When Eve told the serpent how God had said they could eat from any tree but one, the serpent scoffed. “Surely you don’t believe that, do you? I mean, really! You think that if you eat that fruit you’re going to die? Come on now. You’re too smart to believe that, and speaking of smarts – if you do eat this fruit, you will gain all the knowledge needed to succeed in life. Then you’ll be rich beyond measure. Surely you are too smart to believe God meant that literally!”

How easily Satan shifts our thinking to believe that our human wisdom surpasses God’s word and promise.

Pondering the serpent’s words, the woman and man forget who they are and whose they are. I say they, because although tradition has it that Eve was convinced by the serpent and then brought temptation to Adam, this text makes it clear that the man was present all along. Eve took the fruit and ate and then offered it to her husband who also decided to eat. There is no claiming “The devil made me do it!” They each ate of their own accord.

And so, they each succumb to the serpent’s taunts. They each forget or disbelieve or distrust God’s promise that God would see to their needs. The moment that they ate of the fruit they became aware of their vulnerability – of their nakedness. They understood their profound failure to trust in God and depend on God, the only thing God ever really demanded from them. The consequences are immediate. In a moment of time they go from freedom to frailty, from confident, trusting dependence on God, to stumbling and falling into an abyss of shame and doubt and failure. The result is that they are compelled to hide from God. And we have been hiding ever since.

For, isn’t that still our story? Temptation so often comes at the point of identity, where we fail to claim our full potential as human beings and as children of God. We forget that we are God’s children, made in God’s own image, and that God desires our attention, our dependence and our full devotion. We fill our days with busyness, and fail to till the soil of God’s creation; we fail to till the soil of compassion, almsgiving, embracing at risk children, clothing the naked, feeding the hungry, embracing those who may challenge us or be different from us. Instead, we cling to sin, a powerful force that arises from God’s good creation. And we discover that knowing good from evil doesn’t mean we will always choose the good, and resist temptation to do evil.

Our creaturely vulnerability and brokenness have distorted God’s generosity and beneficence. “The devil made me do it” may be our cry, but the reality is that it is truly through our willful rejection of dependence on God, that we have repeatedly created corrupt and inadequate systems of power and dominance.

We have forever transformed the creation and garden of God’s delight into a broken and struggling planet, where earth, sea and skies suffer from the abuses we have heaped on them. Even the church is not immune from seeking power over sacred relationship with the divine. Our human vulnerability leads us to live in fear of failure, of intimacy, of relinquishing perceived power, of offering one another forgiveness.  

And yet, even after the fall, in the creation story we see glimpses of God’s grace enfolding God’s creation. God continues to create “good” – not perfect, but life-sustaining good. In verse 21 of Genesis 3 we are told that “… the Lord God made garments of skins for the man and for his wife, and clothed them.” Seeing their vulnerability and their shame, God’s grace is made evident in God’s continuing acts of creativity and renewal.

Since the time of creation and the fall, God has continued to pursue the hearts of God’s people. God has sent prophets and judges, has continued to provide for God’s people, even giving manna in the desert, water from a rock, and finally, the messiah, born of a human mother in a human birth, who lived and died so that the powers of evil and death would be forever vanquished. May it be so.

In Jesus, God has the last word. In the cross of Christ, God destroys death forever. There is no greater power. Our fear, our identity crises, our vulnerability, our failures, and our struggle with dependence all cause us to experience pain, disappointment and despair in life, but ultimately leads us back to Jesus, through whom God grants us new life and frees us to begin anew.

Let us pray. Lord Jesus, who saves us from our fear and failure, be with us this Lent as we explore more deeply your incomparable love that is poured out on the cross for us. Embrace us as we struggle with sin and guilt, and lead us to a broader understanding of your continuing creative and saving work. Grant that we may know and do your will despite the distractions and temptations in the world, and bring us at last to the peace and light.

Amen.

       

The Heart Condition

Ash Wednesday, March 5, 2014

Readings: Joel 2:1-2,12-17; 2 Corinthians 5:20b-6:10; Matthew 6:1-6,16-21 

You may not be able to tell this by looking at me, but the truth of the matter is, I have a heart condition. It’s a serious condition, though there is not cardiologist in the world who can do a whit about it. There is no surgeon who has the skill to open up my heart and fix what is broken.

The fact of the matter is, I’ve never even seen a doctor about my heart condition. I know that there is nothing that any one of them can do despite all the medical knowledge amassed over the centuries; there is no research that has come up with a cure, nor could there ever be; and the development of ever-more delicate and intricate procedures, medications and treatments to correct the imperfections of our bodies fail to produce an answer to what ails me.

In a sense, my condition is hereditary and here’s the clincher – I’m afraid that I share this condition with all of you. We’ve all inherited the same heart condition, along with our DNA and all that goes into making us who we are. It is congenital; we were each born with it. As members of a fallen race, there is nothing that our mothers could have done to have prevented it. Here we are, each one of us suffering from the same condition, each with our own set of symptoms and maladies that go along with it. And as I’m sure you’ve surmised by now, this condition is closely related to, in fact is caused by that thing that is undeniably a part of who we are - sin.

Here at the beginning of this season of Lent, it occurs to me that much of the work of Lent is truly about the heart. Our lessons today would certainly lead us to believe that this is true. In them we read words like, “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me,” and, “Yet even now, says the LORD, return to me with all your heart,” and, “rend your hearts not your clothing,” then finally, in the gospel text from Matthew, we are left with these final words, “For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

So if Lent is a lot about heart, what do we do about this heart condition of ours?

We often talk about Lent being a journey; after all, we are describing something that isn’t over in a flash but takes more than forty long days to unfold. Yet for most of us, it’s not really our journey, but Christ’s journey that we are after. After all it is Jesus who is on his way to Jerusalem. It is Jesus who is literally and figuratively following a road that will lead him to his passion and his death. We are less travelers along this journey with Jesus than we are spectators, bystanders lined up along the roadside, observing the events taking place and marking the signposts along the way.

Those signposts include the gospel images of Jesus’ temptation in the desert, and his encounter with Nicodemus and later, with the Samaritan woman at the well. During Lent we hear from our gospel texts about the man who was born blind and was healed by Christ, and about Lazarus being raised from the dead. Then, finally we arrive at the gates of Jerusalem where Jesus is met by a jubilant crowd bearing royal banners in his honor and waving palm branches in exultation, followed in short order by Jesus’ last supper with his disciples, his being handed over to the authorities under whose watch he will suffer his passion and death.

So, with all of this happening to Jesus, how do we enter this Lenten journey? And why would we even want to? What might we hope to take away from this holy season? How does Jesus’ journey become our journey?

I think the answers to all of these questions lead us back to our heart condition and to these impossibly broken hearts and the sin that we cling to. I think we come looking for a cure. We look for the reassurance that our heart condition will not be fatal. We seek ways to closer union with God, so that our hearts might be created anew and strengthened. My friends, we come to this journey because we desperately need our hearts to be healed and we know deep down inside that our only hope for these diseased, corrupted, and faulty hearts of ours is to be found through Jesus, most powerfully at the foot of his cross.

In Paul’s letter to the church at Corinth, a church in conflict with itself, suffering divisions and distractions to the mission of the church, with many of the members at odds with each other and many under the influence of false apostles, Paul talks about the reconciliation of relationships.  Paul makes it clear that it is through the cross, that God’s reconciling sacrifice and God’s love bring a cross-shaped reality to the disciples of Christ. It is God’s healing work on the cross that makes it possible for us to be reconciled and healed in two directions – healed in relationship with God, and healed in relationship with one another. It is through this reconciliation with God that God is able to take our hearts that have been torn apart by sin and brokenness, and create them anew…making possible reconciliation with others and restoring the relationships that reflect the love of God and the mercy and grace of Jesus Christ.

Disciples of Christ, living out the reality of the cross in daily life and ministry, live with a new reality – that God’s reconciling, loving embrace of us, with all of our raw edges and imperfections, with these heart conditions that rule our lives and our interactions, is not only able to change us but save us and bring us to new life. And God uses the cross to do it. Christ invites us into ministry and life shaped by that very same cross.

Our Lenten journey, not surprisingly is also shaped by the cross of Christ, not only on Good Friday but every day; … it’s why the ashes we mark today are in the sign of a cross. While Paul describes reconciliation that is cruciform – it will include the work of opening our hearts to and for God, and opening our lives and hearts to and for one another. It is only through Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection that this kind of reconciliation and new life is possible. 

Opening hearts to God comes in many different forms – Lenten practices like fasting, praying, exercising patience and compassion and generosity through almsgiving all draw us into the Lenten journey, drawing us closer to God. The reality is that although spiritual practices are needed in order for us to distance ourselves from all that distracts and divides us, it is God who makes all this possible.

Like the people in the encounters with Jesus that we will witness through the biblical texts in the coming weeks, our own encounters with Jesus will be transformative.  God’s heart-work of changing lives, forgiving sins, healing broken bodies and souls and raising the dead to new life, calls us to engage in this journey called Lent that we might experience God’s reconciling reality for all. Therefore, as we begin this season of Lent, let us rend our hearts to the great physician, engaging in those tried and true Christian practices that engage our body, mind, and spirit. And may the peace, love and reconciling grace of God be with you throughout these forty days.

Let us pray. O Lord our God, we come to you with hearts broken by sin. Have mercy on us O Lord, and through our journey with Christ this Lent bring us the healing and wholeness we so desperately need. Make our hearts clean and our spirits, focused on the cross, that our relationships with you and our neighbor might be restored for the sake of your kingdom. In Jesus’ name we pray.

Amen.

Whose Transfiguration is It, Anyway?

Matthew 17:1-9 Transfiguration Sunday

I love mountains. If I had the opportunity to build my dream home and had to choose between a site on the top of a mountain or a place at the beach, the choice would be tough. However, although I find the beauty and power displayed in the ocean to be supremely alluring, I think I would go with the top of a mountain. There is just something so beautiful, so mysterious and so awe-inspiring about mountains. Being so high up, able to look down upon a panorama of God’s beautiful creation, full of diversity and life and light is simply amazing. And so, as I read this text, my first reaction to this story is, “I want to be there. It must have been spectacular.”

Whether you are a mountain-lover like me or would in fact prefer the beach home, I wonder how the setting for this scene strikes you. I mean, wouldn’t you have just loved to have been on the mountaintop that day with Peter, James and John, as they accompanied Jesus, and then to have witnessed this wonderful event? What must it have been like for the disciples, to have this spectacular sight unfold before them on the top of that high mountain that day? To see Jesus joined by Moses and Elijah, those two cornerstones of the story of the faith of Israel and her relationship with God; then, to witness the glorious transfiguration of Jesus; to see his face, shining like the sun; to witness the brilliance of his clothes, now dazzling white.

Only, I don’t think that these three disciples would have described the scene as “spectacular.” At least, not at first, and especially not right after they heard “the voice”. The text tells us their first reaction upon hearing God’s voice was to do a simultaneous face-plant. That’s right, in this holy moment, upon this glorious mountaintop, we are told that they fell to the ground, face first. They were not just afraid, they were terrified. While that is actually not an unusual first reaction to the presence of the divine in the bible, I wonder - would we, with our 20-20 hindsight have reacted any differently?

Here at the end of the Epiphany season, on the last Sunday before Ash Wednesday each year, in order to participate in this mountaintop experience and to remind ourselves that this experience is part of our experience too. Here in the church we pull out the white paraments; we sing songs evoking the glorious transfiguration of our Lord. We share in the blessed meal of our Lord’s bidding. We might remember that it wasn’t all that long ago that we heard echoes of the same voice as it spoke the nearly the same words at the beginning of Jesus’ public ministry, because the truth is that Epiphany both begins and ends with God’s voice making Jesus known to the world.

Do you remember it? Where have we heard these words before?

As Jesus was being baptized in the River Jordan, the clouds parted and a voice declared, “This is my Son, the Beloved, in whom I am well pleased.” In today’s gospel text, we have yet another sacred scene. Once again from the cloud comes the voice. It actually interrupts Peter saying, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased;” but this time, the voice adds these words: “listen to him!”

The repetition of these words declaring the true identity of Jesus, confirm what was revealed at his baptism and has also been confessed by Peter and the disciples. Jesus is the Son of God, the Messiah. But in the verses just before these, when Jesus reveals a new word to the disciples - that their journey to Jerusalem would end in his passion, death and resurrection, they had vehemently protested. These poor disciples, who constantly swing between faith and doubt, understanding and misunderstanding, cannot grasp this truth that confuses their worldview.

The Son of God, the Messiah, is supposed to be the victorious Lord of all, who rescues God’s beloved people of Israel, who vanquishes the foe. If Jesus is truly the Messiah, how can what Jesus said be true – that he would suffer and die? I doubt that they even heard the part about his being raised from the dead. They were afraid. They were confused. So by nature, they had begun to doubt. God then adds these words to the declaration on the mountain as an exhortation that they should listen to what Jesus has to say, and obey him. God’s words affirm that what Jesus has revealed has been ordained by God. In obedience to the will of God, Jesus will go to Jerusalem, submit to suffering and die. And there, God will have the last word, from the cross. There, the love of God and Jesus Christ’s solidarity with all those who suffer will be revealed - and with this Transfiguration on the mountain, there should be no doubt of the source of this revelation.

Throughout the story of the bible, mountaintop events are transformational. They are pivotal. On the top of mountains, perspective is changed. Relationship with God is clarified and even changed.

Back a few years ago, there was a series of TV commercials for a financial holding company, EF Hutton. Do you remember them? There would be a gathering of people at a party, or a large group of people working together in an office, or perhaps a couple of people having dinner in a crowded restaurant, when one person says to another, “EF Hutton said,…..” and immediately, the scene freezes; all chatter ceases; even the music and everyday sounds in each of the settings are silenced, and suddenly everyone is focused on listening to what it is that EF Hutton has to say. The tag line then was, “When EF Hutton talks, people listen.” And not only were these people listening, they were listening with intent. They want to know what EF Hutton, the voice of authority, reveals about what they should do with their money.

I think of those scenes when I read this text, because I think that while God wants to reiterate that indeed Jesus is God’s beloved, and is supremely pleasing to God, there is something important about the additional words of God here, and they draw us into the scene as well. The tense of these words in the Greek is more like, “keep on listening to him”. These words are for Jesus’ disciples of every time and place. These are words meant to carry the disciples all the way to Jerusalem with Jesus and beyond.

Many translations render God’s command here as “listen to him” but I think that it could just as easily and perhaps even more accurately be translated as “hear him.” In fact, it could be argued that whichever way the Greek word is translated, both listening and hearing are important to the life of the disciple.

Our world is filled with words, sounds, music, conversation, myths, monologues, dialogues, instructions, announcements, and these days, weather reports – words, words, words. There are conflicting sounds, words and voices. Like the disciples of Jesus’ time, some of what we hear confuses our worldview and we struggle with doubt. While many of the everyday words and sounds of our lives go in one ear and out the other, here in this biblical text, God commands us, “listen to Jesus….hear him, and keep on hearing him.”

Yet hearing and understanding are not automatic. Listening that does not lead to action has severe consequences in the life of faith and discipleship.

On that mountaintop, Jesus encountered God and was transformed. The scene harkens back to another mountaintop scene when Moses encountered God and was likewise transformed – his face shone like the sun. While we might not physically travel to the mountaintop, while we may be afraid of heights, would rather be at the beach, prefer our feet to be planted firmly on the ground, and are filled at times with doubt or fear, God’s word comes to all who follow Jesus – to all who follow the one whom God declares is God’s Beloved, the one in whom God is well-pleased. God calls disciples to listen to – to hear and to follow in Jesus’ ways. God’s word comes to us – listen to Jesus. Keep on listening to him.

While the disciples were still lying down, on their faces, filled with fear, Jesus came to them. Jesus touched them. What tender action, filled with love. Despite the failure of the disciples to understand, even to believe, first, Jesus loved them. Then he said to them, “Be raised up, and do not be afraid.” In that moment the disciples were pulled from their fear and failure and blessed with new life and courage.

God meets us in Jesus the same way. What is it in your life that instills falling-down-on-your-face fear? Jesus’ response is, “be raised up.” What is it that keeps you from hearing God’s word and plan for you? Jesus’ answer is “I love you – be raised up.” The cross of Christ and the resurrection are the antidotes to all that stands in the way between you and discipleship.

The good news for us this day, is that God doesn’t leave us on our own to figure these things out. God doesn’t leave us on our own to believe, to act or to pray. The Spirit draws us to the written word and there we meet God. God’s grace is poured out upon us in the holy meal, where we share in the Word made flesh. There, Jesus feeds us with his own body and reminds us, “this is for you.” Jesus meets us in the wine, and reminds us once again, “this is the new covenant in my blood, shed for you.” And even if we have fallen on our faces in failure, fear or doubt in the moment we receive this precious means of grace, are fed and forgiven, we are transfigured too. Each and every time.

As we enter the season of Lent this week, my prayer for each of us, is that we might commit to listening to and hearing God’s voice; that wherever our Lenten disciplines take us, as we encounter God’s voice in the scriptures, we might witness to the transfigured Lord of all; as we contemplate God’s transformational activity in our lives, in and through the world, that we might learn to love as Christ loves.

Let us pray; Lord God, as we journey toward the cross, grant that we may learn to listen and to hear well the transforming word of grace and love and might be so inspired in our discipleship, that in the new life of Christ is evident in our engagement in the world. Grant that we might become the instruments of your mercy and grace Jesus showed us to be. And unite us in spirit and love. In the name of Jesus we pray.

Amen.

Nursing a Legacy of Love

Matthew 5:21-37 ~ February 16, 2014

We’ve all heard them. Pithy sayings and Proverbs like “Don’t let the sun go down on your anger.” Or, “Whoever is slow to anger has great understanding, but the one who has a hasty temper exalts folly.” Or my personal favorite, “It is the fool who does not control his anger.” And yet, let’s face it. We all get angry sometimes. Our spouse doesn’t listen to us, or our kids don’t obey us; our friend disappoints us, or our co-worker or boss abuses us, and we get angry. The world just doesn’t understand us, the bullies around us thrive on our suffering, injustices occur to us and around us each and every day, and we get angry. We get dangerously cut off in traffic by that so-and-so jerk in the flashy little sports car, and we start fuming. Sometimes, it seems that selfishness and lack of consideration are rampant, and there exists a deplorable lack of ethics and morality all around us. The world is going to hell in a hand-basket, and We. Get. Angry. It’s just natural, right?

Then we hear words like these spoken by Jesus and it feels like Jesus is pointing his finger right at us, saying that anger is just wrong, wrong, wrong, and since we know ourselves well enough to know that it is impossible to shut off the anger switch, we just shut down. We stop listening. Because you know what? It’s just too hard, Jesus. Sometimes, I do get angry, and I can’t help it. I cannot not be angry sometimes. I know that it is impossible for me to keep from getting angry in some situations, with some people, at certain times.

For instance, if you want to see me angry, just let me see someone disadvantage or abuse a child, the elderly or an animal, or anyone who is smaller, weaker, more vulnerable than themselves. Want to see me angry? Exhibit hatred, prejudice and racism, and claim that you are doing it in the name of Christ. If you want to see me really angry, catch me when I’m tired and overwhelmed with work and then attack someone or something I love, disparage someone I care about, or defame a cause close to my heart, spewing ignorance and calling it fact.

And yet, even though anger is often perceived as a negative emotion, and many believe that a good Christian simply doesn’t get angry or show anger, ever, we know that anger is sometimes useful and even healthy. Psychologists will tell you that while we often view anger as a “bad” emotion, it can motivate us in positive ways. For instance, it can motivate us to improve a bad situation, or address an injustice, or assert our rights and needs. Anger can sometimes help focus our attention on something that really needs to be changed. Properly channeled, anger can actually stimulate the part of our brain that leads to creativity and problem solving. Most of us may remember that Jesus sometimes displayed anger, most notably when he overturned the money-handlers tables in the temple and called them out for their un-godly behaviors.

So then, what does it mean when Jesus equates anger with murder? For that is what Jesus seems to be doing this first of what scholars call Jesus’ “six antitheses”? – these statements that begin, “You have heard it said,….” followed by a common teaching, and then the words, “But I say to you”….. followed by a new teaching or explanation. What Jesus says is, “You have heard that it was said …, ‘You shall not murder’; and whoever murders is liable to judgment.’ “But I say to you that if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgment,” and so on.

Our second year Confirmation students can tell you that the sin of killing doesn’t just refer to someone taking an ax or a gun and physically assaulting another until they are dead, rather, the commandment not to kill includes a prohibition against doing anything to ruin or damage another’s personhood, reputation, or relationship within the community. These things are not only hurtful to the person upon whom they are heaped but also destructive to the life of community.

Let’s remember that in this long discourse known as the Sermon on the Mount that began with the beatitudes, Jesus is addressing the disciples and those who are following him, teaching them the way of discipleship. Jesus has already told these followers that in the kingdom of heaven, where God rules, and into which all are invited, the status quo has been reversed. There is a new way of living interconnected lives as disciples in community that lives God’s justice and righteousness. In this kingdom, lives are transformed, hearts are made pure, and love is measured and treasured as never before. What you do and what you say matters not only to the individuals involved but to the community at large and by extension, to the very kingdom of heaven.

Jesus said, those who follow him and belong to God, are salt and light. We are valuable, and we add flavor and meaning to the community of the followers of the Son of Man. And here, in today’s text we get a glimpse of what God’s kingdom looks like. Previously, Jesus has said that he came not to abolish the law but to fulfill the law. And within the framework of the antitheses, Jesus is re-teaching the fundamental truths of what that means. Jesus is not giving us a new set of laws, as the gospel of Matthew points out, rather, Jesus is teaching and showing the intention of the law as God established it, especially as it pertains to living and working together. Jesus wants his followers to be people of integrity, people of honor and people of love.

The kingdom of heaven is not entered lightly. The kingdom of heaven makes its demands. The kingdom of heaven, in fact, demands radical discipleship, discipleship that shapes our behaviors, our thoughts, and our words. Belonging to this kingdom and doing this kingdom work requires that every thought and action is transformed by, guided by, and indeed is ruled by God’s reign and God’s Word.

And so, in this Sermon on the Mount, where Jesus is teaching the Jesus-followers of every time and place what it means to be a community shaped by God’s righteousness and God’s love, we receive a lesson on how we should treat one another, how we should let God’s love and God’s command to love guide our pathways. We hear illustrations by Jesus of just how important relationships and life within the community of Jesus-followers really is. At the forefront of this message is the overarching theme that being blessed in community frees us from nursing anger.

When Jesus refers to those who “are angry” he is talking about continuing, unresolved, simmering anger. He is talking about the kind of anger that occurs when grudges are held onto, hurts and disagreements are harbored, where heels are dug in and insults, gossip and name-calling damage the communal spirit. The destruction caused by this kind of rupture in relationship is so devastating, that Jesus gives an extreme example of how it should be addressed.

So here it is: Imagine that you have just traveled all the way from home to the temple at Jerusalem, a distance that takes you several days to travel, in order to make your sacrifice, a sacred obligation to God. So in our context, imagine that our temple is located in California. We each have a holy duty to take ourselves there and bring God an offering to be presented there and only there. Since suggesting you would fly from home here in Easton, Maryland to California would be anachronistic, let’s just say you’ll drive. It’s going to take you a week. But once you arrive, as you stand at the altar prepared to offer your gift, you remember a grievance between you and a sister or brother within here at Grace, back in Easton.

God considers it is so important that you heal that rift that Jesus says, leave the gift. Set it down. Do not present it as sacrifice just yet, it is not the more important thing to do at this point. Instead, go back, and reconcile that ruptured relationship. Then you may return; then and only then should you give your gift to God. To do any less than this has repercussions throughout the community. To do anything less is an assault on the community and on the kingdom of God. Close communities need to maintain social order and harmony to exist, says Barbara Lundblad. In all matters of conflict and disharmony, Jesus bids us to avoid seeking revenge, from bearing grudges, or from nursing an anger that eats away at the fabric of community and the mission God. Disharmony in the faith community makes an appalling witness to the larger society.

Jim Wallis in his book “The Call to Conversion” makes this connection: “When I was a university student, I was unsuccessfully evangelized by almost every Christian group on campus. My basic response to their preaching was, “How can I believe when I look at the way the church lives?” They answered, “Don’t look at the church—look at Jesus.”

Wallis continues, “I now believe that statement is one of the saddest in the history of the church. It puts Jesus on a pedestal apart from the people who name his name…Such thinking is a denial of what is most basic to the gospel: incarnation.”

There is no getting around it, my friends. God’s grace, bestowed on us at baptism sets us apart as Jesus followers. And that means something. The Spirit of God rests within each and every one of us, and that Spirit directs our activity through the giving of gifts, and the establishment of community, the blessing of ministry and relationship with God and with one another. Christ went to the cross for our sake, and in the crucifixion draws us all to himself in loving forgiveness of sin and restoration of the broken. As workers in the kingdom of God, sharing God’s goodness and mercy, embracing grace as a way of life, God blesses us to harbor not hate but love, not resentment but generosity, not grudges, but the life-giving love of God.

Let us pray:

O compassionate God, you have mercifully absorbed the worst of human anger and rage in the crucifixion of Jesus. Free us daily from any contempt we might harbor towards others, and help us to risk taking steps of reconciliation towards those with whom we feel at odds. For Jesus’ sake. Amen.

Salt Shakers and Burning Lamps

        I found it interesting that these images of salt and light come to us out of the gospel today. Just this week many in our region were starkly reminded of the value and necessity of both of these elements in our world.

About the time that I began seriously contemplating the words of these texts, I was also reading headlines from the newspaper like, “Salt Stores Diminished,” and “Predicted Storm May Pack a Wallop, While Salt Supplies Dwindle.” Salt, this precious commodity, has been both bane and blessing for many of us recently. It was just a little over a week ago that I think I must have washed half of the Eastern Shore’s annual supply of salt off my car. Maybe you’ve had a similar experience lately, because it seems as though we’ve been surrounded by SALT these past few weeks. Salt on the roads, salt on our cars, salt being tracked through this building and our homes, salt sprinkled on sidewalks. A nutrient I usually like to simply enjoy in my food has become a valuable source of protection against snow and ice.

And so, as evidenced by the anxiety with which these dire predictions of a looming salt shortage were made this week, and the fact that winter may not yet done with us, this image of salt struck a certain chord this week.

If you’ve been placed on a salt-free diet or had salt inadvertently left out of your recipe, then you have another reason to acknowledge that salt is something we really don’t want to be without. Salt by itself is, well, just salt. But salt added to food brings out its flavors. Salt used as a preservative keeps meat and other foods from spoiling.

Yet, this element has held a different kind of meaning and power throughout history, particularly in Jesus’ time.

Mined out of the earth, the ancient SALT industry could make empires rich, as they rationed and taxed it. Control of salt stores could determine which side was victorious in war, and, at different points in history, salt has been the currency of commerce. In Jesus’ day, (as it is still today in some parts of the world), salt was necessary for the preservation of food—having it or not made the difference between life and death. While in the recent decades our society has over-dosed on sodium and many of us are now on low-sodium diets, both then and now, SALT is an essential ingredient of life, present in every cell of our bodies, and useful in so many ways.

And yet salt on its own is, as Cardinal Suhard once wrote, hopeless, unhandy, unmanageable, and inedible. “You can’t do anything with salt alone; in a time of famine, you cannot eat it; in a time of drought, you can’t drink it; it only would make things worse. Salt alone is no good; it makes the field unfertile, it kills life, it preserves death, it is heavy and useless. It becomes useful only when it is used as Jesus indicates in the text today, mixed up with other things, and he explains as well how we should mixed up. We are not salt, we are the salt of the earth, we should be mixed up with the reality around us.”

That other image named in our text, light, is another element whose value we can especially appreciate this week – especially when, amidst yet another winter storm and frigid temperatures over a million people throughout this region lost power. Last night over one hundred thousand of them spent their fourth night in the cold and dark last night, due to power outages from the storm. For many, no power meant no light, no heat, no plumbing. For utility crews, downed trees and wires brought urgency to the dangerous work that has kept them out working in miserable conditions for long days and nights, trying to restore electricity to customers throughout the region whose homes and lives are endangered by the loss of power and resultant lack of light.

So, while we might be focused on the issues of power and what it means to be without it, what does it mean when Jesus says, “You are the light of the world”?

In both cases in our text today, Jesus uses the plural “you” in this continuation of Jesus’ teachings from the Sermon on the Mount which we began last week. These words from the Gospel of Matthew beckon to us, they call and commission us as a community of Jesus’ disciples. The Sermon on the Mount comes from a section in Matthew’s gospel that serves as a sort of training manual for those who follow Jesus; through these words, we learn more about the ways of discipleship. And so, by use of the second person plural, Jesus is telling us that together, “Ya’ll are the salt of the earth. Ya’ll are the light of the world.” It is the value and promise of the community of disciples that is being lifted up.

These are words spoken not simply to individuals living on the fringe, but specifically addressed to a community shaped in identity and mission for the sake of Jesus Christ, through God’s gift of grace.

Last week we read the verses just before these, known as the beatitudes. You might remember that in those verses, blessings were declared upon the meek, the poor in spirit, those who mourn, and so on. By God’s blessing, saltiness and light - are already theirs by God’s grace. Despite the hostility of your world, you all are salt, you all are light.

And so I ask you, are you feeling particularly salty this morning? Is your light shining brightly? Jesus tells us, You are light, meant to shine, not to be hidden under a bushel, but meant to be seen by others.

Let us remember what salt and light meant to the people of Jesus’ time. Salt and light were both precious commodities; both sustain life, neither can be produced easily on one’s own, they are gifts of creation that require careful ingenuity to access and conserve, and they make all the difference for life.

In first century Palestine, the image of light was pregnant with meaning. Just think of how many times, especially in the past weeks, we have noted the images of light and life in our scriptures. Isaiah promised the “great light” that would shine in the darkness. And now Jesus is using these elements, salt and light – essential, life-sustaining elements, to convey something of extreme value to the people who surround him, those who are listening to his teaching.

Light in the Body of Christ is created and shared when God’s work is done and God’s love is shared. The Holy Spirit of God gives and sustains that light, by God’s grace. The light is meant to shine. It is meant to be seen through the words and deeds of Christ’s disciples, meant to be seen and witnessed in community. The words of verse 16 are spoken within the baptismal rite as one member of the community shares the light of Christ with the newest member of the Body of Christ: “Let your light so shine before others that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in Heaven.” I wonder if we shouldn’t change the way we say these words, to reflect the communal aspect of this light – it is borne I community; as children of God and members of the Body of Christ, we are never alone in shining or casting this light.

You, people of Grace Lutheran Church, are salt and light. Through the cross of Christ, you have been made valuable, you are precious, you are powerful. And, like salt and light, you exist for the good of others. Like salt and like light, you are meant to be intermixed and intermingled with the world—you weren’t created to work alone, or to exist for your own well-being. Combined with other elements, salt preserves, adds flavor, melts, cleans, stabilizes…makes a difference. Combined with other elements, light illumines what was hidden, makes visible the unseen. But here’s the thing: Jesus says, right here and right now, you are salt, and you are light. And, yes, there are of course many ways you are still becoming the salt and light Jesus desires for you to be, but there are also many ways you are already salting and lighting our world. I see you, salt and light, being what you were created to be, when you gather on Sunday morning: sharing caring conversations with one another, reaching out to those going through tough times, offering words of welcome to those who are here for the first time, sharing tithes and offerings to support the ministry God is doing in and through this congregation.

As the Body of Christ, as community working together as salt and light, I see you providing meals for the lonely, providing clothing and essentials for migrant workers, offering the use of this building for groups from the community around us who need a place to meet, contributing to the Souper Bowl of Caring, providing meals and gifts for our poorer brothers and sisters in Easton during the holidays.

But here’s the really remarkable thing about salt and light: neither are controlled very well. You start shaking that salt shaker, and the salt particles land where they will, often ending up everywhere. Road salt melts the ice then clings to your car, your shoes, the floor, anywhere you don’t want it to be. A single candle lit on a dark night can be seen 30 miles away. No, salt and light are not easily contained…but, sometimes, that can be a very good thing.

You are the salt of the earth. You are the light of the world. May it be so. Amen.

Blessed Are You

Matthew 5:1-12

I have moved around a bit in my life, and with each move, with each new situation and context, I have met new people, developed new relationships, and ultimately, formed new friendships. It’s not always an easy thing to do; for one thing, it takes time. It takes risking a certain amount of vulnerability all over again. I am an introvert, and as such, I am sometimes challenged to reach out and put myself out there, to connect in a deep and meaningful way with someone new. I wonder if it’s any different for you. Connection doesn’t happen instantaneously. You can’t force it. Friendships and relationships are organic. They grow and change and morph and as they do, there may be surprises – many of them (let’s hope most of them) delightful, along the way.

I wonder if you can think back to a time when you met someone new? How did the relationship come about? It’s likely you spent time with this person, that you listened to what they had to say, that you learned something about their story and as you did, you came to understand what was important to them, which in turn told you even more about who they were as a person. When you first met them, you probably exchanged the basic information; name, rank and serial number – or something like that, right? But as you became more familiar with one another, your understanding of the other deepened, broadened, and became more meaningful.

So it is with our relationship with God, now revealed through Jesus Christ. Led by the Spirit of God, this relationship also grows as we spend time with God, in the Word and in prayer.  We listen to what is important to God, and now, through the incarnation of God in Jesus, as we learn who and what Jesus values, we become more in touch with God’s subversive love come to fruition in the kingdom of heaven. As we come to know Jesus better, we also come to know about this kingdom of God that sets a new frame of reference for what blessedness is and what being blessed means.

We’ve been doing a lot of getting acquainted with God and God’s ways in the time since our we were introduced to Jesus at Christmas. In the past few weeks, guided by scriptures appointed for each week, we have moved from Jesus’ baptism to the early days of his ministry including the calling of Jesus’ first disciples and his early teaching, preaching and healing ministry. This movement now takes us to the Sermon on the Mount, and a picture of Jesus has begun to take shape. Like a flower that begins as a tightly closed bud and then gradually opens to reveal layers of intricately patterned blossom, we begin to see more and more clearly this Jesus of Nazareth, this God incarnate, and the new way of life he proclaims. Through Jesus’ ministry and teaching, God is revealed. In the ways this kingdom works, the way this household is run, in its values and priorities, God is made known.

In the gospel of Matthew up to this point, Jesus has been unveiling a new reality which he identifies as the “kingdom of heaven”, a kingdom of God that is packed with layers and textures that are frequently surprising, often unexpected, and destined to turn the status quo on its proverbial head.

“Kingdom of heaven” is a phrase that we will hear over and over again throughout the gospel of Matthew. Already, in the verses before these, Jesus has introduced us to it, as Jesus has called those who wish to follow him into discipleship. Discipleship is created as we come to know Jesus better through these texts, and we are introduced to a re-ordering of reality that was initiated with the inauguration of the kingdom of heaven at the coming of Christ. Discipleship is deepened as our relationship is deepened, as we come to know Jesus more fully, and introduce him to others as well.

The text from Gospel of Matthew that we read today opens a discourse by Jesus known as the Sermon on the Mount. We’ll become familiar with Jesus’ teaching through this discourse in the next couple of weeks, but for today, we are reminded of these introductory words, sometimes called the “blessed bes”, otherwise known as the beatitudes. While these beatitudes may read like a laundry list of those who are blessed, it is a scripture passage that reminds us that God’s economy is not like our economy. Being “blessed” does not depend on health, wealth, status or happiness, as we define happiness. It doesn’t depend on self-satisfaction and is not measured by levels of success or power. It is not reward for a job well done or for being correct, or for fulfilling all righteousness or duty.

Blessedness, instead, is a gift. It comes to us as grace. To the people for whom these words were originally spoken and recorded, the reign of God, preached to a largely Jewish audience of peasants who were oppressed by the Roman system of taxes and tributes and suffering under the demands of the tithes and offerings demanded by the Jerusalem temple, they are words of balm for the desperate ones who live on the edge: “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of heaven!”

Mary Hinkle Shore writes: “The word of grace is that blessings as Jesus describes them here are a surprising glimpse of the kingdom of heaven. They are a statement of a world turned upside down. They include those who mourn; those ones are comforted. They include those who hunger and thirst for righteousness; they are satisfied, not ignored, ridiculed or further burdened, where the meek inherit the earth rather than being ground into the dust.”

But, while that good balmy news may in fact be great news for some, it may be troubling news for others. As Scott Tunseth, General Editor of Fortress Press points out “Being poor of spirit may sound pitiful to those puffed up by their own knowledge. Being merciful might sound horribly weak to those bent of revenge. But for those who mourn, the promise of God’s comfort is an oasis of peace. For those who are pure of heart, God will surely be near.”

The beatitudes concern not just the way these words make us feel emotionally, though we may feel a deep emotional response inside; neither do they simply highlight personal qualities of those whom we may call “blessed”. Rather, the Beatitudes function to reveal God’s favor for certain human conditions, for particular human actions, and situations. Regardless of where we find ourselves, we are assured that God will act – in hopelessness and suffering, through pain and turmoil, and God’s reign will find ultimate satisfaction in the lifting up of every single one of the afflicted, and raising them to new heights.

Yet, I think there are two things we need to note about these beatitudes. The first is that while they apply to the “ones” who are poor in spirit, or mourn, or are in dire straights, they also call disciples of Christ into community and into action, where we are both blessing and blessed for one another. As we traverse the landscape of Matthew’s gospel this year, we will find that a prime objective of Matthew’s is to call up disciples of Christ. Discipleship for Matthew is found in community. It is the same today and these words can help us to define the community response to the kingdom of God as revealed through the life and ministry of Christ and those he initially invited to follow.

This revelation of God’s life is an invitation that calls for a response. By following Jesus into God’s abundant life, we will conform to the way this kingdom works, its values and priorities. We are born and reborn into new relationship with God, each other and creation. Jesus invites us: we respond. Always first, the invitation; always, the blessing; always, God reaching out acting first; always, God creating ways of new life, always, where and how we least expect it. Always!

Kingdom life is a responsive life, always seeking, always moving. Discipleship leads to community and the beatitudes call us to a hope filled community focused on God, blessed to seek connectedness through relationship to God and to one another, and embracing what God promises for the future.

Theologian James Bailey writes, “the cumulative effect of the beatitudes puts divine imprint on the community – how the community understands itself and views what God values and whom God honors.”

How poetic! What a beautiful way to describe the way that God is revealed here at Grace and anywhere God’s work is done. We bear the divine imprint as the body of Christ, community alive for the kingdom of heaven!

Henri Nouwen puts it another way:

“I am increasingly aware of how much we fearful, anxious, insecure human beings are in need of a blessing. Children need to be blessed by their parents and parents by their children. We all need each other’s blessings masters and disciples, rabbis and students, bishops and priests, doctors and patients.”

“I must tell you that claiming your own blessedness always leads to a deep desire to bless others. The characteristic of the blessed ones is that, wherever they go, they always speak words of blessing.”

It is a wonderful reminder on a day when we raise up God’s grace that blesses us through the radical nature of the kingdom of heaven, as we welcome into the Body of Christ our new sister through baptism, Lisa Buescher. We are reminded that God’s promise is for grace upon grace upon grace, as gift that is governed by the promise of God’s abundant life. As both blessing and blessed, may we each, as disciples of our Lord Jesus Christ, understand that all human beings are blessed by God and worthy of our love and care.

In closing I would like to remind us how Micah instructs us in bearing the divine imprint in our first scripture reading today: “He has told you, O mortal what is good; and what does the LORD require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with our God?”

Amen.