On Matthew 10:40-42

It is green again.

We have journeyed through the dramatic events of Christ’s birth, ministry and passion. We have witnessed the beginning of the church on Pentecost, and then Jesus’ sending of the disciples into the world. And today we are back to the familiar and steady and green season of “Time after Pentecost”. In fact, in some ways, this Sunday welcomes us out of all the drama into the ordinary, and Jesus’ words today fit this moment very well as we are settling into ordinary time.

Jesus’ words to the disciples sound like an echo of what he had told them all along. Words of reassurance, a reminder of his and their mission in the world. Words that they need to hear because the world that they are facing is inhospitable. When reading the entire chapter 10 of Matthew’s gospel it becomes obvious that being a disciple of Jesus and his good news is not easy, but involves great risks and dangers. Just before today’s passage Jesus talks about the conflict in the world to prepare his disciples for what lies ahead of them. He compares them to sheep that are sent out into the midst of wolves, without protection, a second shirt or shoes. Jesus talks about unrest, persecution and martyrdom. He speaks of the good news breaking families and friends apart. Being a disciple of the Jesus movement doesn’t sound very enticing.

Matthew’s words are realistic in regards to the conditions that God’s good news is faced with in this world… then and now. Sure, we live in a part of the world where we no longer have to face the threat of persecution and martyrdom. Instead our resistance to the Gospel takes shape in our busy lives where there so often is no time for God. The Old Adam within us resists God’s good news of grace and forgiveness with boredom and disbelief. In our apathetic comfort we don’t need to seek out God’s help. In our desire for constant distraction and entertainment we consume whatever we can get our hands on. We want to be in control.  In fact, we like to be God in God’s place. We want to be the ultimate authority. And we want to continue on just the way we are, focusing on our own happiness and accomplishments. Our egoism, our self-centeredness is a powerful force in this world. And all this focus on ourselves makes us unwelcoming and inhospitable hosts to the Gospel.

Jesus knows about the human struggle to be a welcoming host. And today he explains once again to the disciples what it means to be his followers, to be welcoming and hospitable.

Hospitality in the ancient world was not lightly given. To welcome someone into the community was to welcome not just an individual, but to welcome the entire community that they represented. If a neighbour from another village was visiting, one welcomed that whole village. If a distant relative was passing through town, then one’s whole extended family was welcomed. And so, the disciples represent the community of Jesus’ followers, and those who welcome God’s messengers welcome God.

And Jesus reminds them what it means to be hosts and beloved guests. He himself has come into this world as a beloved guest. He has lived among the people as host. Jesus was served and a servant. Jesus was welcoming but not always welcomed. And now he prepares them. As the disciples are about to go into the world to baptize and spread the news of Jesus, they would be welcomed or not, and thereby Christ would be welcomed, or not.

By means of four different examples Jesus describes God’s understanding of welcome and hospitality.

Now, welcoming prophets, the righteous and the little ones might sound strange to us today. Yet, when we look closer at these examples it turns out that Jesus didn’t choose them randomly.  Prophets in ancient times had no status. Often they were outside of society, and their reward for proclaiming God’s good news was ridicule and anger.

The righteous in those days were the elite, the temple cast. And they were inaccessible for Jane and Joe Blow. They would never eat with common folks like the disciples, like us.

The little ones were the unwanted subordinates who just couldn’t live up to the standards and expectations of the people around them.

By identifying these vastly different groups of people Jesus encourages the disciples to welcome them all. For in God’s eyes to welcome means to receive: prophets, the righteous, and the little ones alike… they are all welcome.  And the disciples’ mission as beloved guests is to proclaim grace and offer the love of a God who has come into this world as beloved guest.

“The movie “Babette’s Feast” plays in 19th century Denmark. Two sisters live in an isolated village with their father, who is the honored pastor of a small Lutheran congregation that is almost a sect unto itself. Although the sisters each are presented with a real opportunity to leave the village, they choose to stay with their father, to serve him and their church.

After some years Babette, a French refugee, arrives at their door. She begs the sisters to take her in, and commits herself to work for them as a maid, housekeeper, and cook. One day, the sisters decide to hold a dinner to commemorate the 100th anniversary of their father’s birth. Babette who had experienced unexpected good fortune, implores the sisters to allow her to take charge of the preparation of the meal. Although they are secretly concerned about what Babette, a Catholic and a foreigner, might do, they agree to accept her meal and Babette’s offer to pay for the creation of a “real French dinner”.

She leaves the village for a few days in order to return to Paris, as she must personally arrange for supplies to be sent to Jutland. The various, never-before-seen ingredients are plentiful, sumptuous and exotic, and their arrival causes much discussion amongst the villagers. As preparations commence, the sisters begin to worry that the meal will be, at best, a great sin of sensual luxury, and at worst some form of devilry or witchcraft. In a hasty conference, the sisters and the congregatiON agree to eat the meal, but to forego any pleasure in it, and to make no mention of the food during the entire dinner.

Although the stern guests do their best to reject the earthly pleasures of the exquisite and abundant banquet, Babette’s extraordinary cooking breaks down their distrust and superstitions. Old wrongs are forgotten, ancient loves are rekindled, and reconciliation of the community settles over the table.”* In the meal shared by the broken and resistant community, the Beloved Guest restores the relationships of all present.

Like Jesus has come to the disciples as beloved guest and host.

Like Jesus comes to us…  to serve and send us to be beloved guests and hosts. Jesus comes to us as the Church, comes into our midst – no matter where we are at in life. Jesus comes to wash us clean in Baptism and proclaim God’s forgiveness. Jesus comes into our midst to bless and nourish us with his word, to feed us bread and wine, his own body and blood. Not because we have earned this in any way, but because Jesus is the beloved guest and host, giving his love and forgiveness to us freely.

Every time we gather in worship we practice the roles of beloved guest and host. Every time we gather in worship we learn what it means to be the Body of Christ in the world. And so, when the church assembles, and the body of Christ gets together in worship, we – to this day – follow God’s pattern of welcome: God gathers us, we sing, God speaks to us, we pray, God hosts a generous feast, we eat and drink. And strengthened and nourished by God’s meal and transformed by the good news of God’s exuberant love and forgiveness we go out into the world as beloved guests and hosts.

Amen.

* adapted from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Babette%27s_Feast

On Luke 24:44-53

Today we celebrate Christ’s Ascension. It’s a weird occasion. In fact we don’t talk a lot about it in church. And Luke’s is the only gospel account that mentions Jesus’ departure. Really, what kind of story is this anyway? … before Jesus is done blessing the disciples he is carried up into heaven. Doesn’t that sound more like an urban legend? One of these stories that might have some truth to it but its details have spiraled out of proportion over time.

Well, it was like that for the disciples. Their story had been tough lately. Jesus’ fame had grown over the last few years, and had brought him a triumphant entry into Jerusalem. But after that, things had gone haywire: Jesus’ underhanded imprisonment and unfair trial… his shameful death by crucifixion at Golgatha. The disciples had a hard time getting it all together. It had been too much. Before, they had had the hope that Jesus would change their lives. However, that bubble had burst. They were puzzled about what to do. And then two of their brothers had come to them – and had told them that they had met Jesus on the way to Emmaus. Another strange story in a chain of unfortunate events. They were prepared to leave the Jesus-story behind. No longer were they sure if they wanted to be part of this Jesus movement. They didn’t know how. Events had broken into their lives and tossed them around like helpless leaves in the wind. They felt left behind. And they were scared. Being identified as Jesus’ disciples was dangerous these days.

So, when Jesus appeared to them early this morning they had taken him for a ghost at first. But then he asked for some food. Ghosts don’t eat, do they? And they shared some broiled fish. And now they are sitting around Jesus, and Jesus is talking. It’s almost as it used to be. Them and their Lord… How is that possible?

We can’t blame the disciples for their reaction. Because their doubts and fears, their feeling abandoned and being left behind after Jesus’ death, their withdrawing into themselves is not unfamiliar to us. We, too, have tried to leave some stories of our lives behind. We have tried to pack ourselves in, distance ourselves from circumstances that have become overwhelming, too much, unbearable.

Humans have countless ways of trying to escape life, and even death. When things do not go the way we expect, we are good at moving on. We might hurl ourselves into cyberspace, or hide behind work. We might numb ourselves by taking pills or drowning life in the bottle. A relationship doesn’t work out? Move on to the next. When a loved one becomes ill and dies, we push away the grief and try to pretend that everything is fine. Everything inside us tells us to avoid the pain, ignore the conflict, keep away from the shame. And so we do.

Escapism happens to individuals and entire communities alike. And the Church is not exempt from it either. We might see Church as the haven, a secure place… for life in the world is too hostile. We might use the Bible as an oracle that tells us what we want to hear. We might focus too much on a life after death and the present becomes unimportant.

Or just very recently the world community was gripped by the supposed coming of the Lord. On May 21, 2011 Judgment Day was supposed to happen. Maybe we have shrugged the frenzy off. Or maybe we couldn’t help the tiny uneasy voice nagging us in the back of our head: What if it was true? What if this group of people knew something we didn’t. After all they are Christians… The media had a field day – fuelling the hype. Bad publicity is better than none. It’s not the first time that Christians were ridiculed for their often-obscure claims. And so, some people had anticipated the day. Others were afraid. And others again made a lot of money.

It isn’t easy figuring out what to do when life breaks into our expectations, hopes and dreams… when reality catches up with us, and things don’t fit our plans and ideas and beliefs…

Really, of all people the disciples should have known better, shouldn’t they? All these years and months and days and moments around Jesus… shouldn’t they have been more prepared for what had happened, was happening, and was to come? After all they had seen, heard, tasted and eye-witnessed the new reality that Jesus had brought about.

But they are packed up. And Jesus knows that. Jesus knows about their doubts and fears and questions. And Jesus knows that the disciples need some more preparation for their future without him. Instead of leaving them high and dry, instead of just disappearing Jesus has come back. And he attends to them one last time. He interprets scripture for them one last time, beginning with their forefathers… Moses… the prophets. And he explains to them how he had been there all along. Nothing had happened accidentally, nothing was arbitrary, but everything is embedded in God’s salvation plan. God’s enterprise ‘Salvation of all Creation’ hasn’t failed but had found its completion in Jesus’ own death and resurrection.

Jesus opens their minds and eyes and ears to understand… To understand that God cares for all creation from the beginning of time and always… To understand that the Jesus-movement hadn’t been over, isn’t over, and never will be over… To understand that they are still part of a grand story, God’s story… Jesus opens the disciples up, unpacks them and declares them “witnesses of these things”. He leaves them the promise to “clothe them with power from above”.

And to underline his promise Jesus lifts up his hands and blesses the disciples. And what might seem to be almost too familiar a worship experience for us, the disciples experience Jesus’ blessing for the first time. So far, Jesus had blessed food and little children. But this time Jesus blesses them.

No wonder, that when they return to Jerusalem to wait for things to come, these men are suddenly filled with a wild and freeing joy. They can’t keep from worshiping God. Jesus’ review and prospects for them has changed them. Where they had only seen doom and gloom, grief and despair, abandonment and ridicule, they now can see God with them. Jesus has made them part of God’s new reality. Jesus has given them a story to which they are eyewitnesses. No longer are they afraid but filled with hope and joy and the understanding that they are not alone, that Jesus will stay with them.

And like he has done to the disciples Jesus prepares us, too. For us preparation means planning, organizing, packing, getting ready to go. For God preparing means to linger, to scatter everything, to unpack, to put everything out of the boxes. Like he has done to the disciples Jesus unpacks us and makes us witnesses and blesses us, too.

Being unpacked by Jesus and understanding his promise to care has consequences. We no longer need to escape. We are no longer stuck in some sort of waiting room to get into heaven. We no longer need to sit on packed up suitcases and wait for things to end. Instead Jesus is going through life with us. And life is here and now. And we can look life in the eye. When things become dicey, when life deals us unfairly, when all signs seem to point towards the end of the world, we can cling to Jesus’ ascension promise. With great joy and hope we can trust that no-one and nothing is lost. Because our reality, our life, and our death is shaped by God’s blessing.

And this is what the world needs to hear. We, like the disciples, are embedded in God’s story as witnesses. And being witnesses of and to God means witnessing to God’s accomplished, living, and still unfolding plan for this world.  Being witnesses of and to God means literally witnessing to ALL aspects of life – not the Disney version or the doom-and-gloom-approach… but life in its fullness and richness, including hurts and pain, disappointment and death. God doesn’t help us to avoid and escape death or, as a matter of fact, even life, but helps us navigate through both life AND death. Jesus shows us the difference between packing and escaping and unpacking and staying. Jesus has done and finished the unpacking, and he might be leaving but God is here. And since we are in God’s hands, since Christ is Lord of heaven earth, how can we keep from singing?

Amen.

On Matthew 28:1-10

It is over. The glorious entry of Jesus into Jerusalem, the last meal together, the praying in the garden, the arrest… it seems too long ago. All they can think of is that Jesus had died a shameful death on the cross just a couple days ago, and with his death the amazing journey, the high times of the disciples are over. The whole movement is dead – like Jesus… it is scattered, locked up, in hiding.

The women had been there, too, and watched from a distance when Jesus of Nazareth, their friend and teacher, was crucified and was buried. They had watched as a great stone was rolled to the entrance of the tomb… as it was sealed, as the Roman guards manned their post to make sure that no-one could go into the grave. Everything was secured – even death. And all that the women can see at the dawn of this early morning is the end. They are grieving. They have followed the traces of death to the grave – the sign of the seemingly victorious power of death. They want to be close to the place of their shattered hopes, their disappointed expectations, their unfulfilled dreams.

Grief is feeling the darkness, and many of us have experienced that darkness. Many of us know that overwhelming feeling of anguish – many of us have felt the agonizing pain over the death of a loved one, or the great disappointment over the betrayal of a friend, or the collapse of dreams, or rejection without a reason. We grieve together as a community, and mourn the loss of our youth to the city.

Mourning has many faces: The young might believe that, when they fail to succeed, they are no longer acceptable in their own eyes and in the eyes of those around them. The older among us might feel disadvantaged and dream of the long gone golden days of their lives and can’t accept the present. These are the traces of death… the graves, the rubble, the ruins that grief and hurts and resignation leave behind.

While the disciples are hiding out of fear to be killed like some criminals… like Jesus, all that Mary and Mary Magdalene can see on this early morning is the devastating loss. They need to be close to the source of their grief.

When suddenly into this state of standstill, into this leaden weight of darkness and grief breaks the messenger of God like a flash. Light illumines this darkest of nights, shines into the deadly nothingness of life, into the hopeless despair. Night turns into dawn. All creation participates in this turn: even the earth quakes when the stone is rolled away from the grave.

And the guards drop to the ground and faint for they are afraid when the angel lands right in front of their eyes, whereas the two women are consumed by grief and sadness that is much more powerful than fear. And they are the ones who get to hear the unbelievable news that the angel brings to them: “Do not be afraid; I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is not here; for he has been raised, as he said. Come, see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples, ‘He has been raised from the dead, and indeed he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him.’ This is my message for you.”

Christ is risen!

The message brings the women back to life. They leave the angel with fear and great joy. They can’t contain themselves, they have to pass on the good news: Jesus is raised from the dead. Jesus is alive – a message that has been passed on for centuries when the Church celebrates the Easter event.

Then Jesus appears to the women. “Don’t be afraid!” And it is now that Mary and Mary Magdalene fall to the ground – not because they are afraid but to worship Jesus, to worship their risen Lord.

The women’s encounter with the risen Christ is the source and the reason for the existence of the Church, the reason for the God-people movement in all the world, for today’s story does not have an end. In fact, none of the stories of Jesus’ resurrection in the four gospels in the Bible ends, for there is no end. Not even an explanation of how this all happened.

The account of the women with the risen Christ doesn’t get us any closer to the facts.

For that is not the point. The point is that this story continues – unlike any of our stories. Every story we have, young or old, ends. Every story of our lives has ends, death, and grief. But this Jesus-story does not end. Jesus’ blasting of the bonds of sin and death, the story of his resurrection continues. It is to be continued in you and me and in every life that has been touched by the power of the good news that Christ is risen. The first time this announcement was made on Easter morning by the messenger of God who fell out of the sky and told the good news to Mary and Mary Magdalene about 2,000 years ago. And yet the words continues to spread through the centuries, and even now.

Christ is risen!

These words have power. This story makes people want to tell it over again. The women run off to tell the other disciples the Good News. Jesus has risen from the dead. Three simple words have changed their entire world. All those other details, about betrayals, trials, crucifixions and burials, they don’t matter anymore. The woman have heard and seen the story of the resurrection. They have fallen down at the feet of Jesus and the story has been etched on their very beings forever. It is a story given, so that it can be told over and over again.

Because of that story we are here together, not because of an empty tomb, as spectacular as that might be, but we are here together because the story of the risen Christ has kept going, is full of power to this day and beyond. We are here together because the story has shaped us into links, the links in the chain of the continued proclamation that Christ is alive. Any message that doesn’t have the power to proclaim Christ’s life, death, and resurrection dies eventually, and won’t be passed on. But this story lives on. It has not ended. We don’t need to be the first ones at that first tomb, because the message that has been passed on to us through time has the power to bring us to the empty tomb.

Christ is risen!

Jesus, the Word, the Word made flesh, the story of Christ is Risen is still turning death into new life: everywhere where there is death, there God is also. Death is not the end of our stories but in Christ they continue on.

God places us into new life, but it won’t look like angels falling from heaven. And it isn’t the drama that we might expect to unfold. But the life God brings appears in something simple: Don’t be afraid, go and tell it to the world; wherever the story is told there they will see me.” Jesus doesn’t come back to start his ministry again. He is not preaching any longer, or teaching. He does not perform miracles, or picks fights with the Pharisees. But Jesus has come back and says to us: I am alive. Keep the story going. Today isn’t the end. Where there is death God makes alive.

The three simple words ‘Christ is risen’ can’t be contained. These three simple words break into our lives over and over again – here and today and tomorrow…

Christ is risen!
He is risen indeed.

On Matthew 4:1-11

Just last Sunday we witnessed a mountaintop experience where Jesus changed in front of the disciples’ eyes into a dazzling white figure. It was awesome, and they wanted to stay. But they had to come down. Together with Jesus they walked back into the valley of daily life. The valley of Lent. On top of this sobering experience we were confronted last Wednesday with our mortality in rather blunt words: “remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”

That is depressing. Yet we haven’t seen the end of it. Today, we hear two stories of evil. Pictures of an ugly, smelly creature come to mind, a terrifying, sinister creature with a long tail, hoofs, and horns. In many churches in Europe one can see Satan’s carved or painted horrifying visage lurking in dark corners or peeking around a pillar… vividly reminding the faithful of Satan’s terrorizing power. Or the Disney version of evil portrays the devil as a cute little red cartoon character on someone’s shoulder that whispers nonsense into the person’s ear.

In the readings today, evil appears as a crafty snake that confuses Adam and Eve and lulls them in to believe that they can become like God. Matthew, on the other hand, doesn’t give us any physical description and just speaks of evil as the diabolo… the Confuser. In the Bible we don’t hear of the devil as a hoofed being. Nor do we smell the sulfurous stench of hell. The devil doesn’t have a name or a specific look. Instead in the Bible evil is described as what he does.

And what the confuser does in Matthew’s story is trying once again to show his own power to manipulate, his cleverness, and smugness, and he suggests that he has the power to be like God. He has tempted the Old Adam. Let’s see if it works with the New Adam, as well.

Again, his attempts to entice are skillfully presented, reasonable. First he tries to prey on Jesus’ hunger, maybe Jesus will turn stones into bread. After all, “Jesus was famished” it says. However, no success for the diabolo. He gives it another try by testing Jesus’ sense of security. Maybe he will jump off the temple and get carried away by Angels. The devil even quotes Scriptures to make the temptation more enticing. Again to no avail. Finally, in a last desperate attempt the diabolo lays it all out and offers power in order to be worshiped in return. But Jesus does not even flinch.

The mirror story of temptation that we heard in Genesis seemed to have worked so well. All it took for Eve was one question for her to succumb to temptation. And don’t forget that Adam followed along with no questions being asked at all.

So, what went wrong here? The diabolo has tried to exert power and control, to manipulate and contort, to show that he is like God. But actually it isn’t Jesus who wants to be like God… It is the Confuser. Yet, what he shows is the opposite. He struggles to know who he is or where he belongs.

We know what these struggles are like, these struggles to know who we are and where we belong, and the power they have. And in our searching for identity we look to be more than we are. The temptation of the Garden of Eden was to be like God. In our version of being like God, we try to be powerful, controlling gods who can keep everything around us in check and under wraps. We try to become masters of our work, our homes, our communities, our religion. We try to enforce the rules, we try to shape the world around us according to our vision. It is often not God’s will be done but ours.

The journey of Lent all the way to Golgotha on Good Friday is a journey that reminds us of all the ways in which we are trying to be God. For example, when we hear the story of Jesus’ temptation, we usually try to make it into a model or formula for our own action. We are lured into the illusion that if we can just be like Jesus, we too can avoid the temptations and pit falls of life. And we are so focused on seeing what this story means for us and how we can get something out of it, that we fail to notice that there are only two people in it, and neither of them is us.

The attempter’s efforts to tempt Jesus, thoroughly backfire. Simply because God cannot be tempted… Jesus cannot be tempted because Jesus is God… Just before today’s incident where Jesus is led by the Spirit into the wilderness he has been baptized. At his baptism God has claimed Jesus as his Son. God has named Jesus his beloved. Then last week, when we stood on the mountain with Peter and James and John, God once more declared: ‘This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!’

But the diabolo has a hard time listening to God. Jesus’ responses to each temptation don’t seem to make sense. To whom is Jesus talking when he answers? Is he giving himself the pep talk?

NO!

This is no self-talk or some feeble attempt to fend off the confuser’s temptations. Instead Jesus proclaims who he is. Jesus declares to the diabolo that he is God and says to the tempter: “You do not live by bread alone but by every word that comes from my mouth.” And then “Do not put me to the test.” And then “Worship me, the Lord your God. Don’t serve yourself and your own interests but serve only God.”

God has the ultimate power. And that is something that the confuser doesn’t get.

And we don’t get it either.

We want to be like God; we, too, want power. But when the illusion of control and power to be like God comes crushing down… when we inevitably and miserably fail to be God in God’s place… when being in control is no longer up to us… when we encounter our limitedness, our creatureliness, our humanness then our burden is lifted. Because God takes care of the details.

Today’s story is not about Jesus who is nice enough to set a good example for us. But through Jesus God reveals himself to us as a God who allows and faces the confusion and chaos of this world to come close, and who remains faithful to us nevertheless.

Our God is not a god who has to show his super-powers and muscles, or who needs our adoration and our obedience. But God’s greatness is his powerless love and steadfast faithfulness that he offers to us despite our shortcomings and sinfulness.

We will keep facing trials and temptations. After all, we are human. And a life with God is not always easy. But the trials and temptations shall not discourage us. For God’s call leads us into and through and out of the wilderness to life.

God tells us who we are. In Baptism God drowns us and breathes new life into us. In Baptism God names and claims us, and we are marked with the cross of Christ forever. And being a disciple is to be changed by God. Being an ambassador for Christ in the world is to be identified and chosen by God and living out the Good News. And above all, in Baptism God declares “I am God and you are my Beloved”.

Amen.

On Psalm 119:1-8
Matthew 5:21-37

Just two weeks ago, we heard that the downtrodden, the persecuted, the depressed are blessed. Then, last week we were told that we are the salt and the light of the world.

And today, we hear Jesus continuing his sermon on the mount. Again, his words sound condemning and harsh and impossible. And the reading of the OT text and the psalm are not more comforting or reassuring either: According to Deuteronomy we are to choose between “life and prosperity, and death and adversity”. The psalmist also makes clear that those are blessed whose way is blameless. Those who walk in the law of the Lord and keep God’s decrees… those who do no wrong and follow God’s commandments diligently as he has required… those are happy… those are content.

Are they? Is there anybody on this earth who follows God’s statutes and laws and rules and commandments to the letter? As the psalmist says, when only we try hard enough, and focus on following God’s ordinances we will not be put to shame. God will look with favor upon us.

We all know what it is like to want to do what is right. We all know what it is like to have good intentions. One starts on a diet. For too long food has been a comforter, growing a shield against the hurts and injuries to the soul. Yet, as the doctor keeps saying, it has become dangerous to live on like this. And this time one is confident that it’ll work. But soon, when it shows that it is not that easy, doubts creep in.

Or one decides to cut back on drinking. It was fun at first. Also, the liquor was numbing the inner pain of living, of the nagging feeling of being a failure, lonely, inadequate. And then it became too much and one is ready to quit – only to discover that it doesn’t necessarily work.

Or one intends to become more loving and understanding when the children come home. There is this pattern that as soon as they walk through the door the mood changes, and it is not for long and the fighting starts. For too long disappointments and misunderstandings have mounted, and now each sits on their side of a wall that grows higher and higher. This has to stop because it is depressing and destructive. But then, these patterns are sooo easy to fall back into.

Like us, the psalmist today has best intentions to be good and to do good in the eyes of God. But after the initial declaration of what he plans to do, he seems to develop second thoughts. And soon enough his motive for his zeal to be law-abiding becomes clear: he wants to observe God’s statutes, in the hopes that God would not to utterly forsake him.

How often have we done that? How often have we bargained with God? “If I go to church every Sunday, if I volunteer my time in the congregation and the community, if I pray every day, if I generously put into the offering plate then you can’t drop me.” Just like the psalmist declares “If I follow all your commandments you can’t forsake me.”

There is not much confidence left when it comes to our relationship to God. We are wondering where we stand at best of times. And on days like today, when the Bible passages point out so harshly our shortcomings and inadequacies, it can make us insecure and fearful. What if God really is that legalistic? What if God really judges us the way we deserve it?

And we come to the point that we have to admit, that we can’t live up to God’s expectations. We are never good enough, loving enough, pious enough. Laws, commandments, rules or statutes… we can’t measure up. And the laws, commandments, rules or statues can’t make us righteous before God either – no matter how hard we try!

The psalmist is pleading with God – a God who is listening to these pleas. These words are not just spoken somewhere, thousands of years ago. But, together with the multitude of God’s people and the psalmist, we utter these words of insecurity and fear to a God who graciously hears and listens. For the God of Israel is a Living God – living amongst his people and in earshot. And Israel’s God is our God. This God of all is merciful. This God of all owns and embraces our fears and feelings of inadequacies and struggles by speaking these words with us.

In fact, Jesus in today’s gospel reading is pointing out that measuring up to God is not the point. God’s laws and rules are about how to live with our neighbor… how to reconcile with our neighbor without fear of failure. Instead of cutting relationships when things become rocky Jesus encourages us to make peace with one another. Instead of relying on the legal system of the time Jesus asks us to work out issues with our neighbor directly. Jesus doesn’t speak against us not fulfilling the law meticulously but against an unmerciful system. God does not condemn and abandon us because of our imperfections.

Jesus speaks God’s mercy and compassion to us, the same mercy and compassion that compels God to speak with the psalmist and his people. And just last week Jesus told us that he has come to fulfill the law. Jesus has come to fulfill the law for all people.

It was the Law that nailed Christ to the cross to die. And Jesus overcame the punishment of the law once and for all. Jesus is raised from the dead and turns the punishment into mercy. God hears, remembers, and takes seriously our fear of abandonment.

God’s commandments and statues, God’s laws and ordinances are not about pleasing God, as the psalmist and we often, too, understand it. And God does not forsake or condemn us for being imperfect. But God gave us rules to know how to live with one another. And Christ died to show us that these commandments don’t save us, but God’s relationship with us and God’s commitment to us does… A relationship and commitment that does not rely upon our trustworthiness and faithfulness but on God’s alone.

It is at God’s table and among God’s people that we can let go of our fears and anxieties of not measuring up. It is in the body and blood of Christ that God frees us into a community of honest imperfection and helplessness. Here we receive courage… a courage that springs forth from God’s words of forgiveness. And it is through God’s grace and forgiveness that God gives us the confidence and boldness to reach out to those around us. And we are free to love and care for one another, however imperfectly we try.

Amen.

On Matthew 5:1-12

How is life for you these days? How are you? Are you sad? Do you feel empty? Disappointed by life? Do you feel that whatever you do it is never good enough?

Well, today you are in good company. The crowds that gathered around him and now follow him on the mountain feel similar. Imagine you are among them. People push and squeeze by to get a look at this strange rabbi, to hear his words. Jesus is the hotshot of the day. He has traveled around with his disciples and healed the sick and performed miracles. People feel drawn to him. Because there is something about him that is different. He has no expectations in them; instead he heals them. He doesn’t ask anything of them; instead he blesses them. He doesn’t dictate them rules that are impossible to follow; instead he preaches to them about a merciful God.

What does a merciful God look like? We seem to forget that so easily.

Over time and surviving life’s blows God has become distanced, the priests are God’s middle-men knowing what people need to do and to give to please God. God seems strict and demanding, there are too many rules to follow. No-one can keep up with it all. God seems insatiable. We can relate to that notion. We might not be bad people, in fact we are decent people, but we can’t seem to make it up to God. Only the strong in faith will make it in the end. If we measure up to God, God will make us prosper. And most of all: God will bless us with eternal life.

So, when we hear about this Jesus coming, we want to see that guy, too. Maybe he can tell us what to do. We, like the crowd, want to hear something that gives us hope. But then he talks about how all these people that are blessed… these people that have little in common with us. We tend to hear Jesus say that if we want to be blessed by God or if we want to avoid divine punishment we need to deliver: We need to be merciful, and meek…. Persecuted…. Pure in heart and peacemakers. And his words make us a bit uncomfortable. This is not what we want to hear. In fact, Jesus’ blessing sound rather scandalous… A scandal of blessing.

Mind you, Jesus Christ, the Son of God and second person of the Trinity, certainly has the ability and right to bless whom and what he wants. However, when Jesus preaches to us we tend to hear him say that being hungry or meek are things to aspire to. If we only can become poor in spirit, we can be blessed.

But, if we take a minute to step back and weigh Jesus’ words, we must start to wonder. We must wonder what Jesus means by blessed are the poor in spirit, those who mourn, the meek, the hungry, the merciful, the pure in heart, the peacemakers, the persecuted. We must wonder if these people truly are blessed. Ask someone who is broke and hungry or grieving or persecuted how blessed they feel and probably their answer will be “not very blessed at all”.

At the same time, if we were to go out and search for the people of the world who called themselves blessed, we would probably come up with those with wealth, those with health, those who live in safe countries, those who have job security and benefits. Blessing, for most of us, is reward and security, luxury and well-being. So, when listening to Jesus today that is what makes us uncomfortable… here is where the scandal lies: Jesus names as blessed many of the things that we would call cursed.

Most of the people hearing the sermon on the mount would not have believed that they were blessed, just like we have trouble hearing Jesus’ sermon and imagining that it is a blessing to feel empty, to mourn or to starve. In fact, Jesus’ upside down version of blessing has been so troubling for Christians that we search for it in all the wrong ways.

In the midst of suffering and grief, when we struggle for words of comfort we have heard or even said things – trying to imagine blessing when there is no blessing to be found. At the death of a child we have heard or made comments like “God needed another angel, and your child is a blessing to God now.” Or when someone is diagnosed with a terrible illness like cancer, we have heard or spoken something like “This is a blessing in disguise.” Or, when someone loses a job or ends a relationship we have heard or spoken “This is a blessing because God will teach you patience”.

So, what does Jesus mean when he talks about blessing? Who are the people he is addressing? And what do the promises mean that come with each blessing?

When Jesus addresses those who are poor in spirit he means those who are tired of life, disillusioned, hopeless, and who feel insignificant and expendable. And he says to them that God is right here with and beside us. “For theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”

When Jesus proclaims, “blessed are those who mourn, who are meek, hungry, merciful, pure in heart, and peacemakers” he means that we can’t get away from suffering, illness, and death, imperfection and insufficiencies.

We often see these circumstances as punishments. They are not. They are part of life in this world. And so are that comfort and hope that God gives to us. Here. Now. And in the future. God promises to stand by us. That is what Jesus means.

With each promise God’s eternity reaches into our frailty and finitude.  Jesus doesn’t say, “blessed are you because you look gorgeous and you are strong.” Or “Blessed are you because you are successful and smart.” Nor does he say, “Blessed are you because you are miserable, suffering under the hurts of life, and hungry. Blessed are you because you are grieving and persecuted.” Instead Jesus names our shortcomings and deficiencies. And he blesses us in the midst of our brokenness and humanness. Instead Jesus brings us the kingdom of heaven. Instead it is a promise that God is responding to our limitations and weaknesses, and that blessing is not about fixing ourselves.

We are blessed because God loves us. Not because of any achievement or any suffering. We don’t need to measure up. We don’t need to pretend to be perfect and happy and at the top at any cost. And we don’t need to suffer or hit rock bottom in order to be blessed by God. God’s blessing is not an indication of good or bad things happening to us.

The blessing is, that God is already here and now. The kingdom of heaven is here, and we are surrounded by it. And being given God’s Kingdom means that God is active and present in our world. God is consoling those who mourn, and feeding the hungry. God is bringing peace and mercy to a troubled world. God gives us the kingdom of heaven and it is changing the world around us.

Because God’s promise of blessing to us is relationship. God is intimately involved in our lives. God is not just with us in times of crisis and moments of celebration, but God is part of our daily lives. And this every-day-relationship of God with us is blessing and hope and promise.

The blessing that Jesus preaches today from the mountain-top is not about the conditions of our lives, good or bad, but about who we are. Jesus does not bless poverty or wealth. He does not bless joy or sadness. He does not bless hunger or opulence. But today Jesus blesses us. You and me. His promise is that God’s kingdom is here and now. He promises, that because God is here we are blessed.

Amen.

SUNDAY, December 12, 2010

On Matthew 11:2-11

“Are you the One? Or are we to wait for another?”

The Globe and Mail published an article on Friday with the headline: Canada Marching away from religion to secularization. The article states that 40 years ago, 1% of Canadians labeled themselves as non-religious. Today, that number is 23%. Nearly, one in four people. Even more sombre a statistic. Only 22% of young adults, aged 15-29 consider themselves religious. That means about 1 in 5 young adults. Yet strangely, 80% of Canadians believe in God. The article also points to the fact that religious literacy is decreasing. Many young Canadians simply have no idea what Christianity, faith, or God is about. Their parents stopped attending church, and therefore raised children who have no idea what church really is.

These are truly hard numbers to take in. They are numbers that come along during an Advent season that has been a lot about waiting and wondering, about uncertainty and questions. In the first week of Advent we heard about the end of the world, or rather, we learned that we don’t know when it is coming. Tomorrow, or in a million years? Last week, John the Baptist’s preaching brought us into the dessert – restless and wondering.

And today, alongside the sobering news about religion in Canada, we hear John the Baptist again. But it isn’t a fiery sermon this time. It is a question that we don’t expect John to ask of Jesus, “Are you the one, or are we to wait for another?”

After John’s bold preaching about preparing a way in the wilderness, and making straight paths, how quickly has he begun to doubt. John, who was sent by God, and given a message to preach about the Messiah… About the Messiah who is coming with a winnowing fork to clear the threshing floor! …To sort out the good and the bad… this John, who preached to large, expectant crowds in the wilderness, is now wondering himself… Is Jesus the one?

This is a disturbing question to ask and to hear.

John’s doubt doesn’t give us much hope for our own faith. If he wasn’t sure who Jesus was, how are we supposed to know?

To hear doubts and questions in this season of waiting and anticipation plants doubt in our own hearts and minds. Most of us don’t know how electricity makes a light bulb work, but we do know that flicking the switch will turn the lights on. It is easier to have faith in the scientific world that we can turn on and off, that we can control, than to accept a God who will not be controlled. And because of God’s uncertainty, because of God’s unexpected answers to our questions, the world around us is walking away from faith. We might begin to ask ourselves if we are the last ones who don’t get it? The last ones who live in a fairy tale? And so, today, we are sitting alongside John the Baptist in our prison of expectations and certainty, asking Jesus “Are you the one? Or are we to wait for another?”

John the Baptist has high expectations for Jesus. As one sent by God, he has been given a message to proclaim. A message of certainty about the coming of Messiah. But his certainty is shaken, when instead of Herod and the Romans being overthrown, Jesus is busy doing other, unexpected, new things. And John ends up in prison for his preaching. The message he proclaimed so boldly, doesn’t seem as real anymore.

Many days, maybe even most days, maybe even every day, we face the same problem that John is facing. Our high expectation is for a God who responds to our every prayer, who acts exactly the way we expect, who saves the world in the way we want it to be saved. And our disappointment is equally as high when our expectations prove to be wrong, when our prayers are not answered to our satisfaction, or when God does not do what we want. We want to make God in our own image, so that we can be certain that God is real.

But when our certainty is challenged, we ask, “Are you the one? Or are we to wait for another”? Yet, today, Jesus asks us a question too. “What were you expecting?”

The disciples went to the wilderness hoping for a royal messenger. What they received was John the Baptist in shaggy, smelly clothes of camel’s hair and eating giant grasshoppers. We also come to the question of faith, hoping for evidence and certainty. For a God we can switch on and off, a Messiah that fits nicely into the manger of a nativity scene.

Jesus doesn’t offer us certainty. And Jesus doesn’t meet our expectations. Instead, Jesus comes into our world offering faith. The opposite of faith is not doubt. The opposite of faith is certainty. Faith cannot be controlled, it cannot be switched on and off.

So what is the answer to our question, “Are you the one, or are we to wait for another?”

Jesus does not respond with criticism or judgment. Instead, Jesus receives John’s doubt, our doubt. Instead, Jesus allows the question to be asked. Instead, Jesus responds with hope that is rooted in faith. Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me. The Messiah is coming. And his coming will not look like anything we can imagine. The Messiah will do things that no one expects.

Jesus is not the Messiah who throws the chaff into the fire, tosses out the waste and the garbage, the blind… the lame… the lepers… the deaf, and the poor.

Jesus is the Messiah who gets down into the dirt with us, who finds us in our doubts. Jesus does not come as King with a crown of Gold.  Jesus’ crown is one of thorns. Jesus’ throne is not a majestic seat. Jesus’ throne is a shameful cross. Jesus army is not for conquering. Jesus’ army is 12 bumbling ne’er do wells. Jesus’ kingdom is not about power and oppression but his reign is life and compassion and love.

This Advent, as our questions mount up, as our certainty is eroded, the promised Messiah comes again and again, with answers we do not expect. The Messiah reminds us that we are not in control, and that God’s work in the world is different than we imagine. The Messiah comes to us, with a faith that is alive, a faith that ties us together as one living body. The faith that Messiah brings does what certainty cannot. It allows the questions to be asked and the doubt to form, because neither questions nor doubt can diminish the living faith promised by the coming Messiah.

We ask “Are you the One? Or are we to wait for another?”

And Jesus answers “What did you expect? I am the Messiah — God in flesh.”

Amen.

On Luke 6:25-35

This summer a new TV show came out. It is called the Marriage Ref. And on this show a host and three guest comedians review disputes between married couples. After they deliberate they choose which side of the argument to take.

In one particular episode, a couple was arguing about their dining room table. The husband wanted to use the table any time he wanted. But his wife kept it set… for Thanksgiving… all year round.  Because she felt that this table was made only for that special day. For Thanksgiving. The thanksgiving table setting was out 365 days a year, but no one was to even go near the table for 364 of them. There were a couple of recliners in which the husband and wife could sit and marvel and reflect on the dining room table. And that was it.

Now, this is a bit eccentric. And certainly the comedians had no problems making jokes.
But can you imagine the pressure? If you can’t touch a table for 364 days a year, the one day when you can… it better be the MOST amazing… the PERFECT experience of that year. The only time that you should be able to remember an experience anything close to this should be Thanksgiving from the year before.

Okay, the point here isn’t to ruin the holiday. But maybe the point is to re-think what Thanksgiving is about.

Thanksgiving is a strange day for us. We celebrate the occasion as Canadians. As Christians we note the day, and we even appoint readings about thankfulness. But strictly speaking, Thanksgiving is not a Christian Holiday because it is not really about Jesus. Thanksgiving is more about us… it is a day to reflect on all the good things that we have been blessed with during the year, to give thanks for harvest, for family, for health… or at least that is the ideal of Thanksgiving.

Yet often Thanksgiving is not so much about gratitude as it is about the memories of orange, red and yellow leaves, fall sweaters, happy families and an extra day off. The day is less about giving thanks but getting thanks. Thanks for the most fluffy mashed potatoes, the turkey cooked to perfection, the gravy free of lumps, the perfect stuffing, sweetest yams, colour-coordinated place settings, breathtaking napkin folding, and fine china. And if it is not about to get thanks, then it is to get stuffed, to fill empty bellies and empty hearts.

And these two realities come together today: the desire to get stuffed and the desire to get thanks. And probably in the last few moments before the meal is ready, most Thanksgiving cooks experience what Jesus is talking about today.

“Very truly, I tell you, you are looking for me, not because you saw signs, but because you ate your fill of the loaves”… Translation, you don’t really see what I am doing for you, you only want the food.

When the crowds come to Jesus today, they come because he had fed them before. They have come for more. For hunger is part of their reality. Many literally live on a day-by-day basis. Images of children with swelled bellies come to mind. Gaunt looking people with arms and legs like sticks that can barely walk. Those who don’t get their daily share of bread become indifferent to life, apathetic and lethargic. Some become aggressive. This is a reality that is far from ours, and it makes us helpless and uncomfortable. Because we know that daily bread also has to do with dignity.

No wonder that the people want more from Jesus. Why they are pushing in on him. They are hungry. They want to be filled. And they don’t listen to Jesus very well when he tells them, “Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures for eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you. For it is on him that God the Father has set his seal.’
What is Jesus talking about? Working for God? Food that endures for eternal life? Never heard of that before… “What must we do?” “What sign will you give us so that we may see?”
They just don’t understand. They want their fill. Yet, instead of performing another miracle and feeding them another time Jesus is talking about God giving them bread that fills them forever.

What do we have in common with these hungry masses and their hunger for more? Well, even though we get our daily bread we are hungry, too. We know the nagging hunger for love and belonging. We know the thirst for appreciation and success. Sometimes this hunger is more like starving – starving for being liked for who we are, for fitting in. And while we are scrambling to fill this seemingly bottomless void within us we might discover that we all have 364-days-out-of-bound-tables in our lives that consume us. That build up high, unrealistic expectations and pressures within us… expectations and pressures of the perfect moment, the perfect life… that grow fences around us to keep others out… 364-days-out-of-bound-tables that don’t have much to do with life anymore but with lost-ness and isolation. With hunger, even starvation.

We live in a world that is slowly slipping out of our hands. And the tighter we try to hold it, the more it falls away. And all this frantic searching comes from a fear that there isn’t enough for us… even a holiday like Thanksgiving has the strange ability to reinforce the notion that we need to keep what we have, and maybe even try to get more.
And we realize that today’s passage is about us, that we are amidst the crowd, pressing in on Jesus and demanding more.

Jesus is not concerned with the scarcity of the world, Jesus doesn’t worry about there being enough. He reminds the crowd and us of the way in which God changes our world. With God, we are satisfied. The pressure to be perfect… the hunger to be full… God is what fills that void within us.

“I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.”

With simple bread and common wine, Jesus fills us to the brim. What a contrast to the meals we are going to share with friends and family at home this weekend. Here in this place is but one course… one item on the menu, one choice of beverage. And the table? The table can be found all over the world, at any time of the day, and there is always room. It is a common feast and it is each day given for us. It is not reserved for that one special day a year, but rather it makes each day special and holy.

It is this simple feast of bread and wine that God offers to us, that teaches us about the holiday we celebrate today. There are many names for this meal, Holy Communion, the Lord’s Supper, but it is the Greek name that is important today.

The Eucharist. The Thanksgiving.

And this Thanksgiving, God’s Thanksgiving is not about tables that we can’t touch 364 days a year or about the finest china, or mashed garden potatoes, about unrealistic expectations and impossible pressures. It’s not about making sure that we are getting our fair share in life.
Instead God’s Thanksgiving is about giving. It is about the words “Given for you”… The Body of Christ given for you. The Blood of Christ given for you.

We keep slipping into the idea that we won’t have enough, that we are going to run out, and that when we are empty, when there is no more for us to get or take or have, that we will die. And God’s Bread comes into our midst of wants and voids and death. God’s Bread gives life to the world. The Bread that God gives us shows us how God does what we cannot: God fills our voids within. God feeds us with food that satisfies. And God loves us enough to make us full.

Thanks be to God.

SUNDAY, September 5, 2010

On Luke 14:25-33

Dear Jesus,
well, doesn’t that just really take the cake!? What you are saying to us today is not just inhumane. It is un-Christian, too… To hate parents, spouse and children, siblings and even life… you can’t mean that. In fact, it doesn’t go well with what we usually hear or read from you. Just last week you told the parable of the great banquet, and how God generously invites everyone – even the poor, the crippled, the lame and the blind. And today you have nothing but daunting words for us. We are gathered here to hear your good news, are we not? And all you do is offend us… Do you really think that you will win people over with words like that?

In the Bible the title of today’s passage is “the cost of discipleship”. Looking at your harsh demands something like “Beware of discipleship” would be better.

At the same time, we can’t ignore or push aside what you have to say to us, Jesus, just because we find it displeasing and objectionable.

Today we hear that large crowds are following you around. They have heard a lot about you.  And what they have heard so far sounds promising. So, here they are – hoping for you to be the Messiah, Lord – the One to lead them out of their miserable existence, the daily threats to their lives, their hardships. They are following you – hoping for you to change their lives for the better. They are following you – hoping for you to offer a low-risk solution to their situation. But today the words, Jesus, these words you have for them are everything but hopeful or even doable. “Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.” These words sound impossible. And what do you mean by carrying one’s cross? That is a consequence that the people definitely don’t expect. It sounds shameful and burdensome. It sounds deadly.

The crowds probably don’t like what you have to say. And we also don’t like to be confronted like this. Not by those around us, and strictly taken, not by you either, Jesus. After all, we are here. You know, many of us like to be involved in the life of the church and the faith – admittedly on our terms and especially when we hear about all these great ideals and love because this is what we deem good and important, too. And, Lord, to be honest… we like to leave the church on Sunday morning as well-groomed, and maybe even a bit buttered up, as we came.

But you aren’t too concerned about social acceptance or approval. You never have been. You have made yourself known to us by saying and doing things that violate our thinking. You have made yourself known to us by pulling the rug of self-righteousness from underneath our feet and by confronting our illusions and deceptions of life and our values with your radical, life-giving reality. And usually you do it lovingly. But today, Jesus, today you bother our positive self-image and –perception a bit too insensitively. Your blunt words make us feel uncomfortable, maybe even annoyed.

And it is so tempting to twist and turn, to generalize and to empty, to diminish and dilute your seemingly rude words, Jesus, until they become manageable and doable, more suitable for what we want. Isn’t there a cheaper option? You know… the economy version of discipleship? For we admit that we prefer ‘discipleship lite’ – low risk, low cost…greatest result for the least amount of effort. But you won’t have any of that, Jesus, and we deceive ourselves. And that’s what you are talking about today. That’s why your words rub us the wrong way, why they sound so embarrassing and strange to us.

You, the stranger among us… you open our eyes. And your words challenge us, Jesus. They shake us up and push us out of our comfort zone and our self-righteousness. We realize that we often hope for an easy way to follow you. Like the people that followed you around we, too, want a low-cost, low-risk discipleship. And as a result of our faith we hope for a new and transformed life. And really, we don’t understand at all the consequences! We don’t want to see that low cost and low risk are not real, Lord. As safe and manageable as it seems. But actually, low cost and low risk is about us trying to be in control.

Yet instead you, Jesus, are talking about the real deal, the high cost and high risk that are involved in following you. And you clearly spell it out for us: The consequences of new life are loss, ridicule and death. We have to die in order to receive new life. We have to give up all we have. That’s a downer, Jesus! We can’t do that! Because that would mean loss of control. It would mean facing reality. And the nice picture we had of ourselves crumbles into a pathetic pile of shortcomings and limits and narrow-mindedness. We realize that we are often trying to find the way of least resistance – not just in life but also in our commitment to you, Jesus. And we often even leave you out of our faith-equation…

And it is here that you step in. No wonder, you seem stern! After all, you were born into this world because of our inability to live life to its fullest. You have come to us because of our inability to come to you. You keep coming to us and put us first because of our inability to put you before everything else in life.

And often we don’t get it, right, Lord?

You don’t want to discourage us with your words but invite us to think twice. And for you it is not about an elitist group of perfect disciples, but your invitation is for each one of us – flaws and shortcomings and all. You call us into discipleship with a caring God who follows us when we get lost. You call us into discipleship with a passionate God who runs towards us with wide-open arms when our lives don’t turn out as we had planned.

And that’s what your parables mean that you are telling us today: God doesn’t build a tower without estimating the costs. His work with us doesn’t end up in an abandoned, half-finished construction. God doesn’t start a war under miscalculation of his resources. Instead God offers his Peace from a position of deep love and thus overcomes the brokenness of this world.

You open our eyes, Lord. And your words, as daunting and outrageous they appear to us at first turn into an invitation to full life. Following you and being part of this community here will change us forever. That’s what you mean, Jesus. Following you is to lose our family, to be ridiculed, and to lose our life. That’s what you’re talking about, Lord. That IS a high cost and a high risk you’re asking from us. But, Jesus, before we even understood you offered complete, high-cost transformation. You not only show us how God truly loved us first when you died for us and for this world on the cross. No, you also show us what true love for us is when you were raised from the dead on Easter morning. You did all this for each one of us, for the whole world! And you want us to receive your costly death and your radical new life! That’s why in Baptism you die with us, and with you, Lord Jesus, we emerge out of the life-giving waters as children of God. And then we are marked with your cross on our foreheads. And it goes with us wherever we end up in life, whatever we do – we are yours. Whether we are struggling with family, being turned this way and that way by those we love most… whether we are building a mess, an unfinished house, and an unfinished life… whether we are waging war or waging peace… your cross, Jesus, goes with us. And it is not a burden, but a sign of your life-giving presence with us, and among us in the mess.

Beware of discipleship! You certainly transform us forever, and you will definitely finish and complete the good work that you started with us and all creation. Thank you, Jesus!

Amen.

On Luke 12:32-41

We are getting into those long summer days now, where finding a nice patio to sit on, or a shady tree to sit under with a cold drink, a good book and lots of sunlight and a gentle summer breeze is about as good as life can get. We like to put life on hold in the summer as much as we can, to enjoy the warm weather. School, sports, work, hobbies, and other activities seem suspended while we do whatever summery things we can fit into life.

And when Jesus offers advice about being prepared and on guard it is hard to get into the spirit. He gives us different images: Give away your possessions. Pull up your sleeves. Attend to your house for the coming of the Son of Man. Keep watch and wait. These are not normal summer activities. They don’t quite fit our summer schedule of afternoon naps, swimming in the lake, and long evening sun-sets.

So, when Peter asks ‘Lord, are you telling this parable for us or for everyone?’ he pretty much says out loud what many of us are thinking. Like a good Canadian in summer, Peter is hoping that these commands to be diligent are not specifically for him, but more of a general warning, a take-it-or-leave-it kind of idea. And Peter makes a good point. Are these commands really for us? Is it even possible to fulfill all of these demands? Giving away all our possessions just is not realistic in today’s economy. Waiting up all night for the master to return from a wedding banquet… well, that image is actually outdated because none of us are slaves. And protecting our house from the thief is what locks, guard dogs and alarm systems are for.

Jesus throws out so many details and images in today’s passage that it is easy to get lost in them. They are overwhelming. And sorting through the meaning of each one may or may not provide answers. To figure this out we need to step back, take a deep breath and consider what the big picture is.

When it comes to faith and sorting out how all this God-stuff applies to us, we are quick to look for the tasks that we think we need to do to make God happy. What do we need to get done, get out of the way, so that we can get on with life? … so that we can get to the real business of summer. This is at the root of Peter’s and our question. If all these demands really do apply to us, what is the fastest and easiest way for us to get them accomplished? How many times do we need to come to church? How many prayers do we need to pray?  How much money should we give? What else do we need to do to make Jesus happy?

We hope that by completing the assigned tasks we will satisfy Jesus. But that isn’t really what Jesus is getting at. It is not about breaking into a wild, holy frenzy. It is not about breaking down faith into tasks and to-do-lists. The impossible demands that Jesus lists are just that: impossible. Faith is not something that can be reduced to simple instructions that we follow mindlessly. Rather faith is that relationship that finds us and grabs on to us. Faith comes as a gift from our gracious God who claims us and marks us in baptism. Who feeds and nourishes us with the gift of wine and bread. God pulls us out of the details and our need to just complete the tasks that make God happy, and God does it with the first words that Jesus speaks today.

“Do not be afraid.” Words that echo throughout the bible. Words that always come before the announcement of the good news.

“Do not be afraid.” And we are standing with Sarah and Abraham as God calls them to be the mother and father of a nation.

“Do not be afraid.” And we are standing with Daniel as God promises to be with him in a foreign land and even in the den of lions.

“Do not be afraid.” And we are standing with Mary as she is told that she is pregnant with the Messiah, and that he will be Emmanuel – God with us.

“Do not be afraid.” And we are standing with the disciples in the upper room hiding in fear, and Jesus appears among us brining peace, showing the holes in his hands and the mark in his side.

It is easy to overlook these first few words. It is easy to get stuck with the details, stuck with trying to figure out what exactly it is that Jesus is telling us to do.

“Do not be afraid.” And we are standing here, and Jesus is telling this community, that it is the Father’s pleasure to give us the Kingdom of God.

“Do not be afraid”… these words always come with God’s promise. They come to us in big moments, important moments of faith. Moments when God is going to change the world. When God turns everything we know on its head.

“Do not be afraid.” God speaks these words to us in moments that are confusing and terrifying. In moments that give hope in the darkness. In moments when all seems lost and destroyed. In moments of promise that remind us first and foremost that God is doing something amazing in our world.

“Do not be afraid.” With these words Jesus’ impossible demands to give all we have to the poor, to be on guard at all times, to always watch for the return of the master, and to be constantly alert for the unexpected coming of the Son of Man… with these words, ‘Do not be afraid’, Jesus reminds us that God is coming into our world to find us wherever we are.

And even more we hear today in this place that it is God’s good pleasure to give us the kingdom. To our little church, in this small farming community – in the backwaters of the rest of the world… God gives us the Kingdom… If we are ready or not. God gives us a treasure more valuable than any and all possessions: His grace and forgiveness… If we are diligent or not. God comes from the heavenly banquet to bless and serve us with water… with bread and wine… If we are watchful or not. As the Son of Man, God is breaking into our world, into our lives… if we are waiting or not. God pulls us out from all these impossible details. And even from our summer activities, when we are asking, if this parable is really for us, Jesus says “yes, these words are for you.”

Do not be afraid, for it is our Father’s good pleasure to give us the Kingdom.

Amen.