Maundy Thursday 2014

Now before the festival of the Passover, Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end. ²The devil had already put it into the heart of Judas son of Simon Iscariot to betray him. And during supper ³Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going to God, ⁴got up from the table, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. ⁵Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him. ⁶He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?” ⁷Jesus answered, “You do not know now what I am doing, but later you will understand.” ⁸Peter said to him, “You will never wash my feet.” Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you, you have no share with me.” ⁹Simon Peter said to him, “Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!” ¹⁰Jesus said to him, “One who has bathed does not need to wash, except for the feet, but is entirely clean. And you are clean, though not all of you.” ¹¹For he knew who was to betray him; for this reason he said, “Not all of you are clean.”
¹²After he had washed their feet, had put on his robe, and had returned to the table, he said to them, “Do you know what I have done to you? ¹³You call me Teacher and Lord — and you are right, for that is what I am. ¹⁴So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet.¹⁵For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you. ¹⁶Very truly, I tell you, servants are not greater than their master, nor are messengers greater than the one who sent them. ¹⁷If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them. ^31b“Now the Son of Man has been glorified, and God has been glorified in him. ³²If God has been glorified in him, God will also glorify him in himself and will glorify him at once. ³³Little children, I am with you only a little longer. You will look for me; and as I said to the Jews so now I say to you, ‘Where I am going, you cannot come.’ ³⁴I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. ³⁵By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” — John 13:1-17, 31b-15

Tonight is not about Jesus. In a week when everything is usually intensely focused on Jesus, tonight, in a way tonight is not. We’ll talk about Jesus, we’ll remember Jesus with our words and actions. But on this first night of the great Three Days of the church year, there’s a way in which tonight is about us.

Because tonight celebrates first and foremost Jesus’ instruction to the disciples and to us: “Love one another as I have loved you.” Jesus seems to know this is the end for him. At least in John’s gospel he spends a good deal of time preparing his disciples for things to be left in their hands. He turns the work of all of his ministry over to them. Jesus has been teaching, healing, forgiving, and challenging power all over Galilee and the road to Jerusalem. And tonight God turns over this crazy sight-restoring, captive-releasing, outsider-inviting, dirty-feet-washing ministry into our clumsy hands.

Let me point out that this does not seem like a smart move on God’s part. God has lots of experience dealing with God’s people, and God’s people have not been particularly faithful.

We read tonight about the people of God enslaved in Egypt. They cried out and God heard them. Moses is sent…okay, dragged along… by God to be the one to lead them into freedom. In the night before their deliverance, they are instructed to complete this mysterious action of slaughtering a lamb and smearing its blood on the door before they are finally set free. And God makes a point about Passover. God says to remember it. Remember that this is the length to which God will go to set you free. But they don’t remember. It isn’t more than a week in the wilderness and they begin to complain against God. They quickly become whiny and quarrelsome. They will try their best to take matters into their own hands instead of trusting God. And these are the people God entrusts with ministry?

But that’s been the story of God’s people from the beginning. Forgetting who God is, what God has done for us, and what we are supposed to be about as God’s people. We know ourselves. We know the ways we fall short. We know the ways we have failed to be the people God asks us to be. We know the problems that exist in our world: war, hunger, famine, inequality, violence small and large, damage to the earth itself. We know what brings us to long for the words of forgiveness and grace pronounced to us from God.

Yet God, fully acquainted with our capacities, offers forgiveness with reckless abandon and then turns this ministry over to us anyway. Jesus on this night before he is betrayed takes time to serve his friends, washing their feet. He takes time to remind them and teach them once more what their calling is really all about.

And in so doing, he turns over to them and to us two things on this night in particular that I find particularly daring on God’s part. The first is the ministry of care for one another. Into our fragile hands Jesus places the responsibility of loving and caring for our fellow fragile human beings. The very thing God has created and formed and loved to the end is what Jesus hands over to a group of people with a terrible track record, knowing full well that in doing so the need for grace, healing, and forgiveness will only increase.

And so it is that God hands over the second even more daring and even more important thing. Jesus hands his very self over to us. He gives his body over to the cross rather than go back on his promise of radical love. But Jesus hands himself over to us also in the gift of bread and wine accompanied by the promise that he is here every time. That every time the bread and wine is shared in community and the promise is spoken and remembered, Jesus is there, giving his very self over to us again.

So why does God do this? Why does God place not only the care of other human beings but even God’s very self into our fragile and clumsy hands? Why risk everything on us? The answer goes back to the statement at the core of our service tonight: “Love one another. Just as I have loved you, love one another.” Because that is who we are. We are people lovingly created for love with one another. Not sappy romantic love, but deep care, concern and service to each other.

Tonight is about what God has done for us: this crazy thing of calling each of us to the work of God in the world because we are loved first. By the grace of God we are called worthy to be swept up in the mystery of these days – washed by the waters of baptism, fed by the bread and wine, and then carried through death into new life all over again. Amen.

-Pastor Steven Wilco

 

 

 

The text of this week’s Gospel, John 9:1-41, was read throughout the sermon, rather than in one reading. It is below in italics.

As he walked along, he saw a man blind from birth. ²His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” ³Jesus answered, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him. ⁴We must work the works of him who sent me while it is day; night is coming when no one can work. ⁵As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.” ⁶When he had said this, he spat on the ground and made mud with the saliva and spread the mud on the man’s eyes, ⁷saying to him, “Go, wash in the pool of Siloam” (which means Sent). Then he went and washed and came back able to see. 

If only everything were that simple. The man was blind, but now he sees. Problem solved.

This is the Jesus we like a great deal. He swoops in and fixes the problems that we can’t handle ourselves. This part of the story fits into our worldview nicely. We may struggle with the miracle part in our world of scientific knowledge, but we generally agree with Jesus that it’s not about the sins of the man or his parents and we also generally accept that blindness needs healing. Even if the mud and saliva method is a little unorthodox, we can believe what we want about that part and go on about our lives.

We encounter all kinds of challenges in our daily lives. Certainly some people live with disabilities or challenges that are clear and diagnosed. But even without that, everyone faces what is simply a complicated world. We are challenged by demands on our time, but relationships that require difficult work. We are challenged by mysteries we cannot solve. We are challenged by world problems that weigh down our hearts.

So why can’t Jesus come and fix it? We might even be willing to make some mud with spit if it would make things any better. We might even be wiling to travel around the world to visit the Pool of Siloam if we really thought it would make our lives easier in an instant.

For this man who is transformed, it is something amazing and incredible. And we, too, want something amazing and incredible to land in front of us without our having to even go looking for it. That’s not why God came down to earth. If only it were that simple…

⁸The neighbors and those who had seen him before as a beggar began to ask, “Is this not the man who used to sit and beg?” ⁹Some were saying, “It is he.” Others were saying, “No, but it is someone like him.” He kept saying, “I am the man.” ¹⁰But they kept asking him, “Then how were your eyes opened?” ¹¹He answered, “The man called Jesus made mud, spread it on my eyes, and said to me, ‘Go to Siloam and wash.’ Then I went and washed and received my sight.” ¹²They said to him, “Where is he?” He said, “I do not know.”

         ¹³They brought to the Pharisees the man who had formerly been blind. ¹⁴Now it was a sabbath day when Jesus made the mud and opened his eyes. ¹⁵Then the Pharisees also began to ask him how he had received his sight. He said to them, “He put mud on my eyes. Then I washed, and now I see.” ¹⁶Some of the Pharisees said, “This man is not from God, for he does not observe the sabbath.” But others said, “How can a man who is a sinner perform such signs?” And they were divided. ¹⁷So they said again to the blind man, “What do you say about him? It was your eyes he opened.” He said, “He is a prophet.”

         ¹⁸The Jews did not believe that he had been blind and had received his sight until they called the parents of the man who had received his sight ¹⁹and asked them, “Is this your son, who you say was born blind? How then does he now see?” ²⁰His parents answered, “We know that this is our son, and that he was born blind; ²¹but we do not know how it is that now he sees, nor do we know who opened his eyes. Ask him; he is of age. He will speak for himself.” ²²His parents said this because they were afraid of the Jews; for the Jews had already agreed that anyone who confessed Jesus to be the Messiah would be put out of the synagogue. ²³Therefore his parents said, “He is of age; ask him.”

So here the story gets complicated. It turns out, no, it wasn’t actually as simple as a blind man suddenly being able to see. For one thing, we realize that even the problems that seem individual to us, problems that we think we face alone or that affect only us, are actually connected to the whole community of which we are a part. Surely a blessing to be so interconnected, but also a challenge. It seems as if Jesus swooping in to fix the things we identify as our own issues or even the things we are individually worried about in the community and the world may not actually fix everything.

Part of this complication of being in community is that the healing that has taken place makes this man unrecognizable. The healing is so transformative that the people no longer recognize him. He has been up to this point in his life characterized by his disability. He’s known even to us now not as the man who received his sight but the man born blind. The community has long since carved out a place for him and it is certainly not among them as a member of their community. This man is to them a non-person. He is an object of their pity and maybe, if he’s lucky, their charity. Jesus’ healing doesn’t change that.

Actually, as much as we long for healing, I think this part of the story reminds us that healing actually means transformation and transformation means change and change means loss. Certainly in Jesus’ time, regaining his sight would mean significantly more opportunities for him. But it meant losing the identity that he knew from his beginning. And the community isn’t exactly ready to embrace him for who he is.

But we know this, too, about our world. That when things change, not everyone is ready to accept it. Whether it’s the ordinary family down the street who wins the lottery and suddenly finds people can’t relate to them, or whether it’s the resistance we face from big and powerful groups and corporations to making social changes that have the potential to benefit the planet and our fellow human beings. Not everyone jumps on board so easily.

But now I think we’re getting closer to what this story is all about. It’s about the transformation of a man born blind, but it seems it’s actually about how disruptive that transformation can be. Sort of a”be careful what you pray for” kind of message. The transformation may totally turn your life upside down, and the consequences may not be exactly what you’d expect.

²⁴So for the second time they called the man who had been blind, and they said to him, “Give glory to God! We know that this man is a sinner.” ²⁵He answered, “I do not know whether he is a sinner. One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.” ²⁶They said to him, “What did he do to you? How did he open your eyes?” ²⁷He answered them, “I have told you already, and you would not listen. Why do you want to hear it again? Do you also want to become his disciples?” ²⁸Then they reviled him, saying, “You are his disciple, but we are disciples of Moses. ²⁹We know that God has spoken to Moses, but as for this man, we do not know where he comes from.” ³⁰The man answered, “Here is an astonishing thing! You do not know where he comes from, and yet he opened my eyes. ³¹We know that God does not listen to sinners, but he does listen to one who worships him and obeys his will. ³²Never since the world began has it been heard that anyone opened the eyes of a person born blind. ³³If this man were not from God, he could do nothing.” ³⁴They answered him, “You were born entirely in sins, and are you trying to teach us?” And they drove him out.

Driven out. That’s what this man gets. He has been physically transformed and now wants to rejoin his community in a new way, with his new identity, and the reaction is that he is driven out. His testimony about Jesus does not fit into their preconceived notions about what God does and does not do, how God does and does not work. The problems just seem to get worse.

But this man has been transformed in such a way that he will not concede his point: “Here is an astonishing thing!” he says to the authorities, and maybe the most powerful words any of us can use to witness to God’s work: “I do not know. One thing I know, I was blind, and now I see.” I was dead but am alive, I was lost and am found.

The kind of transformation that Jesus brings, the kind of transformation we are waiting for is not a simple fix for our problems. It’s instead something so transformative that we lose our bearings entirely. It strips away all that we know of the world. It makes us into a new person in such a way that the old is no more. The kind of transformation that Jesus enacts is what calls us to selfless acts of generosity, to radical welcome for anyone and everyone, to the proclamation of life over death.

There are many things we do not know. And we may as well admit that upfront. But we do know the power of God in our lives that draws us into this place – to this font and this table. We do know the disruption that Christ’s presence causes in us. And sometimes we even know the community’s harsh or misunderstanding response to our Christian identity. And yet here we are to proclaim to one another the power of God at work disrupting our lives.

But as wonderful as that is, is that all that Jesus offers to us?

³⁵Jesus heard that they had driven him out, and when he found him, he said, “Do you believe in the Son of Man?” ³⁶He answered, “And who is he, sir? Tell me, so that I may believe in him.” ³⁷Jesus said to him, “You have seen him, and the one speaking with you is he.” ³⁸He said, “Lord, I believe.” And he worshiped him. ³⁹Jesus said, “I came into this world for judgment so that those who do not see may see, and those who do see may become blind.” ⁴⁰Some of the Pharisees near him heard this and said to him, “Surely we are not blind, are we?” ⁴¹Jesus said to them, “If you were blind, you would not have sin. But now that you say, ‘We see,’ your sin remains.

Finally Jesus reappears in this crazy story. Jesus could have stepped in, demonstrated his power somehow in front of the very people making life difficult for this man. But that simply plays into their assumptions. To have done that would have given credence to the assumption that blind is bad and sight is good. Sick is bad and healthy is good. It would have given blessing in a sense to the power they have claimed to include or exclude from God’s community. It would have only supported their established way of relating to one another through categories.

Instead Jesus shows up where Jesus always shows up, to the side of the one who is cast out. Jesus appears again at the point in the story when it becomes clear that this man is once again marginalized. Jesus stands with him there in that place, challenging the power of the Pharisees to exclude, challenging the valued of insider/outsider language, challenging everyone’s assumptions about identity.

But the problem is that it leaves the poor Pharisees to wonder if in fact they are the ones who are blind. Through this crazy series of events, Jesus has managed to place a question in their minds. It has caused them to stop and wonder, to stop and reconsider. Suddenly they are questioning their own assumptions. Questioning not just this blind man and this unregulated healer, but also perhaps now their assumptions about what it means to be in community and what it means to be blind.

And maybe Jesus causes us to question, too, if we might also be in need of transformation. If our assumptions and categories need turning over. If our lives need a little disruption, too

And it may seem that Jesus’ response to them and to us is to abandon us in their disrupted state. But if we’ve learned anything in this story, it’s that disruption is part of God’s transformation. Disrupting individuals, disrupting social structures, disrupting death itself.

And disruption is threatening and downright terrifying, but it is part of the work of God in the world. It’s what resurrection is all about. And in the middle of it we find Jesus beside us, comforting the afflicted and afflicting the comfortable. That’s what we prayed in our psalm refrain today: “Shepherd me, O God, beyond my wants, beyond my fears, from death into life.”[1] Bring us your disruption, O God.

And God answers that prayer by lifting up the man born blind and coming alongside the same man thrown out of the temple. Cracking the shell of the Pharisees who cannot see beyond their own rules and categories. Breaking us apart and putting us back together again to be witnesses to the power and the possibility of resurrection in our world today.

So whether you are confident or confused, sighted or blind, lost or found, dead or alive, this transformation is for you. This disruption is for us all. Jesus promise of life is bursting forth for everyone.

-Pastor Steven Wilco

A reading from the Gospel according to John:

⁵So Jesus came to a Samaritan city called Sychar, near the plot of ground that Jacob had given to his son Joseph. ⁶Jacob’s well was there, and Jesus, tired out by his journey, was sitting by the well. It was about noon.
⁷A Samaritan woman came to draw water, and Jesus said to her, “Give me a drink.” ⁸(His disciples had gone to the city to buy food.) ⁹The Samaritan woman said to him, “How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?” (Jews do not share things in common with Samaritans.) ¹⁰Jesus answered her, “If you knew the gift of God, and who it is that is saying to you, ‘Give me a drink,’ you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water.” ¹¹The woman said to him, “Sir, you have no bucket, and the well is deep. Where do you get that living water? ¹²Are you greater than our ancestor Jacob, who gave us the well, and with his sons and his flocks drank from it?” ¹³Jesus said to her, “Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, ¹⁴but those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty. The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.” ¹⁵The woman said to him, “Sir, give me this water, so that I may never be thirsty or have to keep coming here to draw water.”
¹⁶Jesus said to her, “Go, call your husband, and come back.” ¹⁷The woman answered him, “I have no husband.” Jesus said to her, “You are right in saying, ‘I have no husband’; ¹⁸for you have had five husbands, and the one you have now is not your husband. What you have said is true!” ¹⁹The woman said to him, “Sir, I see that you are a prophet. ²⁰Our ancestors worshiped on this mountain, but you say that the place where people must worship is in Jerusalem.” ²¹Jesus said to her, “Woman, believe me, the hour is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem. ²²You worship what you do not know; we worship what we know, for salvation is from the Jews. ²³But the hour is coming, and is now here, when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for the Father seeks such as these to worship him. ²⁴God is spirit, and those who worship him must worship in spirit and truth.” ²⁵The woman said to him, “I know that Messiah is coming” (who is called Christ). “When he comes, he will proclaim all things to us.” ²⁶Jesus said to her, “I am he, the one who is speaking to you.”
²⁷Just then his disciples came. They were astonished that he was speaking with a woman, but no one said, “What do you want?” or, “Why are you speaking with her?” ²⁸Then the woman left her water jar and went back to the city. She said to the people, ²⁹Come and see a man who told me everything I have ever done! He cannot be the Messiah, can he? ³⁰They left the city and were on their way to him.
³¹Meanwhile the disciples were urging him, “Rabbi, eat something.” ³²But he said to them, “I have food to eat that you do not know about.” ³³So the disciples said to one another, “Surely no one has brought him something to eat?” ³⁴Jesus said to them, “My food is to do the will of him who sent me and to complete his work. ³⁵Do you not say, ‘Four months more, then comes the harvest’? But I tell you, look around you, and see how the fields are ripe for harvesting. ³⁶The reaper is already receiving wages and is gathering fruit for eternal life, so that sower and reaper may rejoice together. ³⁷For here the saying holds true, ‘One sows and another reaps.’ ³⁸I sent you to reap that for which you did not labor. Others have labored, and you have entered into their labor.”
³⁹Many Samaritans from that city believed in him because of the woman’s testimony, “He told me everything I have ever done.” ⁴⁰So when the Samaritans came to him, they asked him to stay with them; and he stayed there two days. ⁴¹And many more believed because of his word. ⁴²They said to the woman, “It is no longer because of what you said that we believe, for we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this is truly the Savior of the world.” – John 4:5-42

We all know thirst can be dangerous. Even most casual hikers know that if you’re going to be out for even a few hours you better bring some water with you. If you end up lost in the wilderness most people know that one of your most important needs is water. Endurance athletes, and I only know this because I read runner’s blogs and magazines occasionally, learn how much water their bodies need during long periods of exercise. When you get thirsty it’s a warning sign that your body is already below the ideal hydration level. When thirst comes you’re already starting to operate below peak mental and physical capacity. The longer it goes the worse it gets for you.

Thirst is not a good thing. And our world is thirsty. There are places experiencing now extreme drought – in the Western part of our own country, in Haiti and Pakistan, and other places around the world. There are people thirsting for other things too: people thirsting for employment, thirsting for community and an end to isolation, people thirsting for strength and courage in the face of fear.

The woman in our gospel reading today is thirsty. She comes to the well thirsty for water, of course. That is why one brings a water jug to the well. But as the story unfolds we discover that she is thirsty for something else. Maybe it’s not even something she’s been able to name for herself yet. Somehow in her life she is already lacking in something and longing for relief. It seems to me that she is thirsting to be known and loved for who she is.

There is speculation that she is isolated from her community. It does seem odd that she comes to the well in the heat of the day. The other women would have come in the morning when it was cooler and easier to carry the water. They would have gathered there to share news of the village and to talk with one another. That this woman comes at noon indicates that she is a little bit isolated from her community.

A lot of people also seem to think that this woman was longing for forgiveness.The line people focus on is when Jesus tells her he knows she’s had five husbands and a man now who is not her husband, as if this is an indication of loose morals or her inability to maintain relationships. We don’t know the circumstances of this woman’s situation, but I think it’s fair to assume that there could be all kinds of reasons for this. Perhaps this woman was abused and abandoned. Perhaps she had experienced tremendous loss in a culture in which her livelihood depended on finding someone to partner with. Whatever the reason, Jesus doesn’t offer forgiveness in this story.

Now, to be clear, if there was anything to forgive, it’s clear that Jesus offers forgiveness pretty freely. That’s an important part of what he came to proclaim. But I don’t think that’s what he does in this story.

What seems more important in this story is that the unnamed woman is bowled over not by forgiveness, but that she is overwhelmed that Jesus knows her intimately and yet still wants to engage her, still wants to offer her living water. Jesus knows the things she keeps close to her heart and wants to be in conversation with her anyway. This is about guilt vs. shame.

Guilt can drive us to important changes in our life. It can drive us to make up for things done wrong and to make different choices going forward. It at least has the potential to be transformative. But it doesn’t tend to make us thirsty.

But shame can do just that, because it is not based in an actual wrong that can be righted. It’s based in perceptions about who we are and who others are. It tends to drive us to keep things hidden rather than sharing them in the open. And it can be self-perpetuating. The thirst just gets deeper the more we go down the path of shame.

That’s what Jesus transforms in this story. He pulls who she is out into the open. He acknowledges their profound cultural differences, he names this unusual series of relationships she has, he quietly acknowledges her presence when I suspect others tended to avoid her. And she realizes it’s okay. How many of us would be okay with all of our hidden stuff being laid out in front of us? If someone we met on the street suddenly knew the things we are afraid to tell our closest friends or especially the things we are afraid to tell ourselves.

When Jesus names the truth out loud it suddenly seems to lose its power. She realizes it’s ok when the truth is on the table.

All this answers a big question for me that I’ve always had about this reading. You see. I’ve never understood why the whole village follows this woman to meet Jesus. She comes running up and tells them that some man has told her everything she ever did. So? She met a psychic. What’s the big deal?

But if the conversation goes more like this: “I know you don’t talk to me. I know we don’t even talk about not talking to me. We don’t talk about the fact that I had 5 husbands or that I don’t participate in the community activities. But I’m just met this man who knew exactly who I was and he made me realize that all this is silly. I’m done pretending that everything is ok.” And maybe suddenly they realize what they hadn’t even spoken to themselves. They realize that the truth everyone was afraid to name has been named and it’s not just okay, it’s transformed them in an instant. Now that’s reason to come running to Jesus.

And I see that happen in our congregation. In this community I seem glimpses of it. People sharing who they are and being surrounded by community. But what would it be like, sisters and brothers in Christ, if every time we walked through the door into this building we felt safe to name the parts we hide about ourselves and that this community were known for being a place where it was safe to be fully who you are in a radical way unheard of in our culture.

What if we named our thirst to one another? What if when we talked about drought in the world, we stopped pretending that we can go on using up water without concern for the wider world? What if this were a place were we talked openly about unemployment without the stigma our society attaches to it? What if this were a place we named our isolation and were surrounded by community? If this were a place we named our hopes and fears and shame and it was transformed?

That’s what Lent is all about. We try to make it about guilt. Because that’s easier – to name our wrongs and fix them. To stop bad habits or start good ones. And that’s all well and good. But what Lent is really about is naming our shame and laying it at the cross where it gets turned upside down. It’s about making our selves vulnerable and finding Christ holding us. It’s about the promise of Easter – new life rising up for us out of the midst of our shame transformed.

So this story does not promise that we get everything we want. Or even everything we need. The woman, after all, runs off without her water jug. But it does promise us that no matter who we are and what we think of ourselves, that Jesus knows who we are and loves us all the more.

And we are here today to proclaim that truth. And to be a reminder for one another. Because we need this place to remind each other of who God is for us in word and song and bread and wine. Here at this table you are known. Your thirst is recognized. Love is poured out. The living water is offered to you. Come. Eat, Drink, and Live.

-Pastor Steven Wilco

Thanks to Pastor Tim Brown for his commentary last week on this text for helping me pull together my thoughts for this sermon.

To support those who do not have access to clean water in our world, visit Lutheran World Relief’s Water Project: http://lwr.org/ourwork/water

Second Sunday in Lent
March 16, 2014

 Now there was a Pharisee named Nicodemus, a leader of the Jews. ²He came to Jesus by night and said to him, “Rabbi, 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.” ³Jesus answered him, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above.”⁴Nicodemus said to him, “How can anyone be born after having grown old? Can one enter a second time into the mother’s womb and be born?” ⁵Jesus answered, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit. ⁶What is born of the flesh is flesh, and what is born of the Spirit is spirit. ⁷Do not be astonished that I said to you, ‘You must be born from above.’ ⁸The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.” ⁹Nicodemus said to him, “How can these things be?” ¹⁰Jesus answered him, “Are you a teacher of Israel, and yet you do not understand these things?
¹¹Very truly, I tell you, we speak of what we know and testify to what we have seen; yet you do not receive our testimony. ¹²If I have told you about earthly things and you do not believe, how can you believe if I tell you about heavenly things? ¹³No one has ascended into heaven except the one who descended from heaven, the Son of Man. ¹⁴And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, ¹⁵that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.
¹⁶For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.
¹⁷Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him. – John 3:1-17

I met Nicodemus this week. Except this person was a woman. She came and expressed that she didn’t really understand much about the church, but she was really glad to know that it was there.  As in, she was thinking about it even when it wasn’t right in front of her how much she appreciated that it was there. She seemed nervous coming to talk to a pastor, and yet she made a beautiful and sincere gesture of support, that I very much appreciated. But then she was gone. I suspect I’ll see her again, but probably not in church on Sunday morning.

I actually met Nicodemus a second time this week, except the second time it was a young man who stopped and asked what I was working on. I happened to be doing a first read-through of the gospel text in preparation for this sermon, so I shared, in brief, the story. Like the original Nicodemus, this person was rightfully confused by the concept of being born again, and asked if it was good or bad. A good question I don’t think I ever thought to ask. Add the layers of meaning that phrase has taken on in recent decades and the confusion only grows. We had a brief but intriguing conversation.

Actually, I have these encounters with Nicodemus pretty frequently.

Why is that important? As I have these encounters week after week, I’ve noticed that Nicodemus is a pretty important follower of Jesus. Actually, I think he might be one of the best followers of Jesus.

This might come as a surprise, because he doesn’t get counted among the twelve, the magic group we tend to think of as the inside crowd. He’s not named among the important saints we remember. But actually, a lot of important followers of Jesus were not counted in the 12 – take pretty much all of the women who appear over and over again as faithful disciples and messengers in the Jesus story, most of whom aren’t even named.

But he doesn’t even really follow Jesus. Not like this drop-everything-and-wander through Galilee kind of way that we hold up as the model of discipleship. Nicodemus, having come to Jesus in the secrecy of the night gets metaphors and poetry in response to what should have been a simple question. And he goes back to his life as a member of the ruling religious authority.

But Nicodemus does not disappear from the story. He shows up at two crucial moments. Once a few chapters later when the other religious authorities have had it with Jesus and they want to take care of him once and for all, but Nicodemus steps in and asks them at least to hear the man out before they jump to conclusions. It’s not exactly the apostles’ creed, but it’s a statement of faith in its own way.

And Nicodemus shows up again almost at the end of the gospel. They have removed Jesus’ body from the cross and Nicodemus shows up to help with the burial. An act that requires tremendous courage and the utmost care. And here is this man who has only been mentioned twice in the story to that point.

So Nicodemus is not one of Jesus’ followers in the traditional sense. But actually, he gets a lot right. For one he gets that living out his faith happens “out there” in what church people tend to call the “real world.” That is, on some level he gets that not everything about living out the faith of a living God takes place at the foot of the teacher. Or to translate it to our context, not everything about Christianity happens in the church building. Actually in some respects only a small part takes place in the church building. I wonder sometimes if we get so concerned about what happens inside our doors that we forget all that God is doing outside our doors.

And Nicodemus shows up where it counts. He supports the work of Jesus in a different way than others do. He speaks in the times and places that he feels called to do so and presumably doesn’t worry so much about the times that he’s not the one called to be the voice.

But we in the church today tend to have an issue with the Nicodemuses of the world. They are very hard to nail down on parochial reports. They don’t show up on the roles of the church. They don’t wear Christian jewelry and have Christian bumper stickers. They don’t fit into our categories of what it means to be a Christian. And that’s what the institutional side of church likes.

But Jesus sets up in this conversation with Nicodemus something to blow apart our categories. In this famous verse that most people know the reference to and those of us who grew up going to Sunday School have ingrained in our memories: For God so loved the world that he gave his only son that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send the son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.

This verse and others like it blow apart our need to nail down who falls into what category. It blows apart our expectations of ourselves and of others that we do certain things and even to believe certain things. It’s telling that Jesus says to Nicodemus, one who never makes a clear statement of faith, to one who can’t get past the metaphors Jesus throws out, to one who comes secretly at night, to him – For God so loved the world that he gave his only son.

The Nicodemuses among us take incredible risks, going against a culture that can be hostile to religion, to be in conversation with the church at all. And God’s response is not to demand further risk, though plenty about discipleship involves risking things. God’s response is to take an incredible risk in return: For God so loves the world, he gave his only son…

It’s important for us in the church to grasp the limitlessness with which God engages in the world, to grasp that we are not the only ones engaged now in the work of God in the world. But also important to remember for ourselves that when we come up short against the things we cannot understand and the moments that leave us frustrated or confused, scared or angry, that it is for us, too, that God so loves the world.

So as you encounter Nicodemus in the world and as you find yourself in his shoes, may you be reminded not only here in water, word, bread, and wine, but also out there in all the places God is at work, of the profound love of Jesus Christ poured out for you and for all. Amen.

-Pastor Steven Wilco

Ash Wednesday – March 5, 2014

“Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them; for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven.
²“So whenever you give alms, do not sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, so that they may be praised by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. ³But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, ⁴so that your alms may be done in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.
⁵“And whenever you pray, do not be like the hypocrites; for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, so that they may be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. ⁶But whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you. 
¹⁶“And whenever you fast, do not look dismal, like the hypocrites, for they disfigure their faces so as to show others that they are fasting. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. ¹⁷But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, ¹⁸so that your fasting may be seen not by others but by your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you. 
¹⁹“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal; ²⁰but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. ²¹For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. – Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21

I don’t know about you, but I don’t really want to do this. I don’t really want to go there again – to the wilderness of Lent, to this ashy reminder of my own and others’ mortality, to a place that forces me to confront who I am as a messed up human being. As a human being bound for the grave.

Actually, even though I don’t think of myself as the kind of person who likes to be too showy, I’d much rather do exactly what Jesus warns against in the gospel reading – practicing my piety before others. It would be easier than coming to terms with the truth of Ash Wednesday.

I might not naturally trumpet what I give, but I confess to a sense of pride in striving to grow in giving. I don’t often stand on the street corner to pray, but I’ve certainly spoken prayers that I didn’t mean in the moment because it was expected that I pray. And fasting, well, it’s been a while since I did, and mostly I gave it up because I found it hard to make it a spiritual practice instead of a ego-centered game to see how long I could last. All that’s a whole lot easier than this kind of honest acknowledgement about our dusty nature. Jesus is asking something much more difficult: to trust in God and not in the esteem of others.

So whether I like it or not, I need this ashen reminder. I need a reminder that my needs and wants, my good deeds and bad, even my goals and dreams will not save me from myself much less save me from dying some day.

But, even though I don’t really want it, I long for it. I think we all long for honest words about who we are. We long to acknowledge that God is God and we are not. We long to acknowledge that we are not in control.

To be reminded that no Lenten practice is going to end the conflict in Ukraine, no Lenten discipline will end climate change, no Lenten practice will feed a whole world in need. No Lenten practice will make us anything more than dust.

We long to be reminded that the ashes of all that we have lost, the ashes of all we have let slip past our fingers, the ashes that represent those who are no longer with us – that those ashes are reshaped today in the form of a cross. In the form which reminds us that all is not lost. A bowl full of ashes reshaped into a cross on our foreheads. Tracing the same cross that marks our foreheads at baptism and claims us as daughters and sons forever.

It is in that cross that we see the reality of what Paul says in Corinthians: “We are treated as impostors, and yet are true; ⁹as unknown, and yet are well known; as dying, and see — we are alive; as punished, and yet not killed; ¹⁰as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, and yet possessing everything.” We might add, “as dust, yet bearing the mark of new life.” We ourselves reshaped in the form of a cross that we might remember who we are.

The whole season of Lent is about an honest acknowledgement of who and what we are as children of God. It’s about coming to terms with our limitations and God’s profound grace poured out to us. It’s about the ever-flowing, never-ceasing water of life given for us. It’s about seeing the dust of our lives reshaped into a reminder of the one who by rising from the grave has overcome our ashen bodies and redeemed us for new life. It’s about bearing the mark of God on our bodies of dust.

No, I don’t particularly want Ash Wednesday, but my whole being yearns for that reminder, for that reshaping, for that honest naming. Longing for a reminder that even the certainty our return to dust has been transformed by the cross of Christ. Amen.

-Pastor Steven Wilco

Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and his brother John and led them up a high mountain, by themselves. ²And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white. ³Suddenly there appeared to them Moses and Elijah, talking with him. ⁴Then Peter said to Jesus, “Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I will make three dwellings here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” ⁵While he was still speaking, suddenly a bright cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud a voice said, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” ⁶When the disciples heard this, they fell to the ground and were overcome by fear. ⁷But Jesus came and touched them, saying, “Get up and do not be afraid.” ⁸And when they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus himself alone.
⁹As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus ordered them, “Tell no one about the vision until after the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.” – Matthew 17:1-9

What does one do when entrusted with the glory and power of God? That’s the question at hand when we read a text like this. When we read something that is at once strange and mysterious. When we are confronted with a God we do not fully understand.

 

In this text, Jesus takes Peter, James, and John up on the mountain with him. There’s no explanation given, though it perhaps wouldn’t be that out of the ordinary. Jesus often stepped aside with a  small group to pray and recharge. And mountains in most cultures are associated with divine experiences, going back to an older understanding of the world in which God was up and earth was down, so mountaintops fell somewhere in between. It’s not clear why these three. Usually it is supposed that they were the select disciples chosen for a special experience, though a few have suggested that maybe these were the disciples who needed a little extra help – a remedial lesson in who Jesus is, having missed Jesus’ previous attempts to explain it. Whatever the reason at the top of the mountain they experience Jesus transfigured, shining bright white, visitors hundreds of years old and long since dead appear, a cloud swallows them up, the very voice of God speaks to them, “This is my son, the beloved; with him I am well pleased. Listen to him.” And then it’s over. What does it all mean? What is one expected to do when entrusted with the glory and power of God?

Several options present themselves in the reading. Each has some pros and cons.

1. Peter suggest they build tents. He proposes they all stay right there dwelling in the glory. On the good side, this option gives them time to revel in the power and glory of God. It’s a chance to dwell in an unspeakable mystery, something perhaps they would only experience this once. It’s good to take time to be with mystery – a beautiful worship service, a good conversation, a lively time of fellowship. The potential downside is the tendency to want to control this mystery. We decide that the glory of God is here and here it shall stay and it shall be no where else. If our intention in building a tent is to attempt to hold it down, manage it, contain it, we do not truly respect or understand this power and mystery. We do not understand that it cannot and will not be controlled.

2. Another option presented in the readings is to fall down in fear. They fall down specifically in response to the voice of God. This is probably the proper response when confronted with the glory and power of God. In fact, when we really come face to face with the enormity of God’s love expressed in a form we actually start to get, what else can we really do? The potential downside is if we stay on the ground as a way to pretend it isn’t really happening. If we try to stick our heads in the sand as a way to pretend that God isn’t mystery. To pretend that we have God already figured out and we will not stand to look at the glory and power being displayed that is beyond our comprehension. We stay in our usual patterns and mundane tasks as a way to ignore the power that is revealed in this event.

3. The third option is presented by Jesus himself, so it’s probably worth listening to. He tells them not to say anything about it. This is actually a fairly difficult task. Can you imagine experiencing something so incredible that you can’t process with your closest friends. You have had a transformative experience that you aren’t supposed to reveal to those who look at you and wonder what is different. On the good side it gives us some time to ponder the mystery before we try to put words to it. More time to dwell in it before we try to order it into explanations and three point plans. On the down side, if this causes us to put it away, relegate it to the irrelevant past, or pretend it didn’t really happen, we once again do a disservice to this mystery.

Peter, James and John go in and out of all of these, not just in the story but again at the resurrection and through the early years of the church. They will take time to dwell together in community as they soak up the power of Jesus revealed in rising from the grave. They will hide in fear at moments when they cannot do anything else. They will at times fall silent, even after the resurrection. In the beginning of the church they will start and falter and start again and cycle through these responses to all that God is doing in their lives. Ultimately, though, Peter’s retelling of this story in our second reading today is a reminder of the ways in which in telling the story he is able to point the one who is at the center of this mystery.

But of course this is not just a quandary for the three disciples. This is a question for us in our lives: What will WE do when entrusted with the glory and power of God? Because, sisters and brothers, we have encountered this same mystery. God does entrust us with glory and power beyond our understanding. Maybe you’ve had a mountaintop experience and maybe not. Maybe you can point to a transformative moment or not, but some way, somehow, God’s glory and power have touched your life to bring you here this morning. The same voice that spoke in the cloud also spoke at Jesus’ baptism and at yours: “You are a beloved child of God, with you I am well pleased.” And every week we face the mystery of God made flesh for us in bread and wine. We are literally handed the glory and power of God to transform us.

Sometimes our response is to make tents – to dwell in the glory – to sing our hearts out in worship or revel in the conversation around the table as we study the Bible or talk about our faith. Other times we fall in fear – when we are confronted with the reality of our lives, when life and death are made wholly real to us and all we can do is fall on God. Sometimes we take the time to ponder until we know what it is we are being called to say.

But in the end Jesus’ invitation to the disciples and to us is to go back down the mountain:

We read this text every year before we go together down the mountain into the wilderness of Lent, before we return to confront our mortal human nature in the face of this great mystery.

Surely Jesus’ invitation calls each of us to some different way of living out this calling in our vocations and in our relationships.

But I think it is also calling us as a faith community back down the mountain. We are at a point in our community’s life cycle where we are again starting to vision – it’s this in-between time having seen the transfiguration we walk down the mountain imagining how we might share the gift of our encounter with the Holy One. We have the gifts of one another, experiences with God, we have shared the story, but how will we live it out now in a new time and season? It is as if our community is on the way down the mountain figuring out what life below will look like. What will we do now that we have been entrusted with the glory and power of God?

We will be asking you to take some time to ponder that in the light of the resurrection. We will ask you to jump in and try something when you feel the Spirit stirring. But perhaps most importantly this is an invitation to share your encounters with God with one another and with the world over then next months. In the light of the resurrection you are invited to gather together to share your experience of God’s mystery in your life.

It can be frightening to encounter that kind of call from God, the voice that shakes the mountain top. And it can be just as frightening to share it. But in this encounter on the mountain, Jesus responds to the fear of the disciples by reaching down to touch the disciples. And so Jesus touches us, lifts us up, and calls us forward.

As we begin to think about where our congregation is going in the coming months and years and even as you imagine where you might be called in the future, I invite you to face the fear, the confusion, the mystery and go forth to share your stories – talk to one another about your encounters with mystery and encounters with God in your life. Because the one at the center of the mystery goes down the mountain with you. This one who is transfigured and resurrected has trusted you with this glory and power and invited you down the mountain to share it with the world. Whatever awaits at the bottom of the mountain, God has already gone before us to prepare the way. Amen.

-Pastor Steven Wilco

 

 

Sixth Sunday after Epiphany
February 16, 2014

¹⁵See, I have set before you today life and prosperity, death and adversity. ¹⁶If you obey the commandments of the LORD your God that I am commanding you today, by loving the LORD your God, walking in his ways, and observing his commandments, decrees, and ordinances, then you shall live and become numerous, and the LORD your God will bless you in the land that you are entering to possess. ¹⁷But if your heart turns away and you do not hear, but are led astray to bow down to other gods and serve them, ¹⁸I declare to you today that you shall perish; you shall not live long in the land that you are crossing the Jordan to enter and possess. ¹⁹I call heaven and earth to witness against you today that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Choose life so that you and your descendants may live, ²⁰loving the LORD your God, obeying him, and holding fast to him; for that means life to you and length of days, so that you may live in the land that the LORD swore to give to your ancestors, to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob. – Deuteronomy 30:15-20

²¹“You have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, ‘You shall not murder’; and ‘whoever murders shall be liable to judgment.’ ²²But I say to you that if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgment; and if you insult a brother or sister, you will be liable to the council; and if you say, ‘You fool,’ you will be liable to the hell of fire. ²³So when you are offering your gift at the altar, if you remember that your brother or sister has something against you, ²⁴leave your gift there before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your brother or sister, and then come and offer your gift. ²⁵Come to terms quickly with your accuser while you are on the way to court with him, or your accuser may hand you over to the judge, and the judge to the guard, and you will be thrown into prison. ²⁶Truly I tell you, you will never get out until you have paid the last penny.
²⁷“You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’ ²⁸But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lust has already committed adultery with her in his heart. ²⁹If your right eye causes you to sin, tear it out and throw it away; it is better for you to lose one of your members than for your whole body to be thrown into hell. ³⁰And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away; it is better for you to lose one of your members than for your whole body to go into hell.
³¹“It was also said, ‘Whoever divorces his wife, let him give her a certificate of divorce.’ ³²But I say to you that anyone who divorces his wife, except on the ground of unchastity, causes her to commit adultery; and whoever marries a divorced woman commits adultery. 
³³“Again, you have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, ‘You shall not swear falsely, but carry out the vows you have made to the Lord.’ ³⁴But I say to you, Do not swear at all, either by heaven, for it is the throne of God, ³⁵or by the earth, for it is his footstool, or by Jerusalem, for it is the city of the great King. ³⁶And do not swear by your head, for you cannot make one hair white or black. ³⁷Let your word be ‘Yes, Yes’ or ‘No, No’; anything more than this comes from the evil one. – Matthew 5:21-37

There are people who like to talk about how great Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount is. Those people never had to proclaim these words of Jesus to a congregation of people he loves and cares about. Seriously. These are some harsh words from Jesus, so I’d like to enter carefully into conversation with them, and to enter that conversation through our first reading from Deuteronomy.

Let me set the context: the people of Israel have been wandering without a permanent home in the Sinai wilderness for 40 years. Yes, years. They are about the enter the place they will call home. Moses has traveled with these people but he will not make the final journey to the new home with them. So Moses reviews with them God’s instructions for living in community together. And the end of it all, he gives them a choice: You can choose life and prosperity and blessing or you can choose death and adversity and curses. Pretty clear choice.

But I’m not convinced that choice is always such a great thing. Now some choices are great – like mint chocolate chip ice cream or peanut butter cup ice cream. As far as I’m concerned you can’t go wrong. Some choices are challenging, but still wonderful, like, for instance, choosing a baby name. Other choices are just annoying, like when you just want a box of corn flakes and you have to sort through 100 cereal choices at the supermarket.

But some choices are those that are easy to make but hard to do. These are often the most important choices. Like choosing to eat healthy or stop a bad habit. Easy to say hard to do. That’s the kind of choice Moses is laying out for Israel. Life or death. Easy for most of us to decide that one. We can sit in church and talk about all the ways we want to choose life, but then we’ll go home and make choices that lead to death, adversity, and curses of one kind or another.

That’s where Jesus’ words come in – addressing the brokenness that is obvious in the world – the brokenness that was a part of Israel’s life despite Moses’ impassioned speech, that has been a part of all our cultures before and since. Jesus reminds us of some of those life or death choices we have to make all the time in our lives. There are four of them in this reading:

1. The first choice is what to do with our anger: Life or death. Build others up or tear them down. Mend broken relationships or let them get worse. Now Jesus himself got angry. Anger is natural. Anger is something to pay attention to. But we have a choice about how to direct our anger.

This week saw a verdict in the Michael Dunn case – a case in which actual murder resulted when he got angry over loud rap music in a gas station parking lot. And then he wasn’t convicted – a whole other reason for us to be angry.

But for all our protesting about those who are brutal bullies on the world stage or on the local playground or in gas station parking lots, we, too, let our anger get the best of us. Most of us don’t kill people; I pray most of us don’t use physical violence to solve our anger. But we still choose death over life. We find a way to hurt ourselves or our community. We know it’s wrong, we choose to do it anyway.

2. The next choice is what to do with the fact that God created us as beautiful and sexual beings. The life and death choice here is between honoring that gift or abusing it. We acknowledge that misuse is rampant. There was another report this week about professional athletes and their abuse of women. On some channels there is constant news about celebrity hookups and who’s dating whom. We know that our world is full of misuse of God’s gift of sexuality.

And yet Jesus acknowledges that for all those worse offenses out there, we are all people who misuse and abuse all of God’s gifts to us, including the use of our bodies in relationship to one another. Choosing death over life.

3. But in case you weren’t already overloaded, Jesus is not done! The next choice is, at the heart of it, about what to do with our broken relationships. Jesus moves on to divorce.

This is worth a disclaimer: This passage too long used to perpetuate abuse and unhealthy relationships. Jesus elsewhere expresses God’s longing that we have life abundant, and in a broken world sometimes the only way for that to happen is through divorce. It is painful for all but it sometimes is a necessary course of action.

But we all have brokenness. If it isn’t a marriage, it’s some other relationship or aspect of our lives. We all make choices about how to handle that. Sometimes we do better than others. The choice is whether we honor the ways in which we are called into community with each other or whether we treat our relationships lightly. Choosing life or choosing death.

4. And as if those big considerations were not enough, today’s reading includes this bit about swearing oaths. I’ll be honest I’m not sure exactly what to do with this one. But I wonder if at the heart of is what underlies all of this: Our choice about what do with our very ability to choose. That fact that we don’t always carry out our better choices leads to a need to add extra statements to our oaths. We can choose integrity or we can try to puff up our words and our deeds with extra padding to avoid facing just who we are and owning our good choices and bad. Life or death?

After all that, anyone still think having all this choice is such a good idea?

But the question remains, what does God do with the way in which we choose death over and over again? In an age where the church is once again reclaiming a sense of God’s forgiveness and grace, I still talk to far too many people who think that God’s response is one of condemnation. That somehow God is sitting around counting our bad choices and shaking a finger and sending people off to scary places, some of which are referenced in our reading.

But if you keep reading the gospel, that is not God’s response. No, God makes a different and surprising choice. If we are going to keep choosing that which leads to death, then God chooses death with us. God says, “Fine, if you are going to choose death, then I choose death with you.” God chooses death with us, that we might have life together.

So there it is, in our anger misused, in our sexuality abused, in our communal living broken, and in our integrity falling apart, God chooses death with us. God chooses us.

Today’s harsh words remind us that we live delicately in fragile relationship with one another, that our desire to choose life does not always trump our choices moment to moment. And yet the words from Jesus’ mouth indicate to me an intimate knowledge of what it is like to be a human being. Words that understand what it is to be in human skin, words that acknowledge who we are and the choices we are capable of. Which simply makes it even more amazing to me that God chooses with us, that whatever our choices, we are accompanied always by the one who is life itself. Amen.

-Pastor Steven WIlco

 

 

 

Fifth Sunday after Epiphany – February 9, 2014

Shout out, do not hold back! Lift up your voice like a trumpet! Announce to my people their rebellion, to the house of Jacob their sins. ²Yet day after day they seek me and delight to know my ways, as if they were a nation that practiced righteousness and did not forsake the ordinance of their God; they ask of me righteous judgments, they delight to draw near to God. ³“Why do we fast, but you do not see? Why humble ourselves, but you do not notice?” Look, you serve your own interest on your fast day, and oppress all your workers. ⁴Look, you fast only to quarrel and to fight and to strike with a wicked fist. Such fasting as you do today will not make your voice heard on high. ⁵Is such the fast that I choose, a day to humble oneself? Is it to bow down the head like a bulrush, and to lie in sackcloth and ashes? Will you call this a fast, a day acceptable to the LORD? ⁶Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? ⁷Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them, and not to hide yourself from your own kin? ⁸Then your light shall break forth like the dawn, and your healing shall spring up quickly; your vindicator shall go before you,  the glory of the LORD shall be your rear guard. ⁹Then you shall call, and the LORD will answer; you shall cry for help, and he will say, Here I am. ^9b If you remove the yoke from among you, the pointing of the finger, the speaking of evil, ¹⁰if you offer your food to the hungry and satisfy the needs of the afflicted, then your light shall rise in the darkness and your gloom be like the noonday. ¹¹The LORD will guide you continually, and satisfy your needs in parched places, and make your bones strong; and you shall be like a watered garden, like a spring of water, whose waters never fail. ¹²Your ancient ruins shall be rebuilt; you shall raise up the foundations of many generations; you shall be called the repairer of the breach, the restorer of streets to live in. – Isaiah 58:1-23

¹³“You are the salt of the earth; but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything, but is thrown out and trampled under foot.
¹⁴“You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hid. ¹⁵No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. ¹⁶In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven. 
¹⁷“Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfill. ¹⁸For truly I tell you, until heaven and earth pass away, not one letter, not one stroke of a letter will pass from the law until all is accomplished. ¹⁹Therefore, whoever breaks one of the least of these commandments, and teaches others to do the same, will be called least in the kingdom of heaven; but whoever does them and teaches them will be called great in the kingdom of heaven. ²⁰For I tell you, unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. – Matthew 5:13-20

I’m going to resist the temptation to go into lots of details about salt and light, because I think they are images we are mostly familiar with. Even people who aren’t familiar with Jesus’ use of them in this text and people who don’t know the historic significance of salt as currency, preservative, and seasoning and the power of light in a world before humans had harnessed electricity, these images are fairly understandable. We say of solid, dependable people “They are the salt of the earth.” We talk in our public sphere all the time about letting our light shine. These images are about spreading out into the world to make things better, make a difference. And we know, most of us, innately, the kinds of things we can do to make the world a better place. Kindness, compassion, serving the needs of others. In fact there’s nothing uniquely Christian about that – it’s more of a human thing.

So when the people of Israel complain to Isaiah and to God about how badly things seem to be going, God’s response is something akin to a reminder that they already know what it is that they can do to improve their life in community with one another. They were busy fulfilling, their religious obligations but were missing the basics of kindness and compassion. Surface-level acts of devotion will not suffice. God says through Isaiah: “Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them, and not to hide yourself from your own kin? Then your light shall break forth like the dawn, and your healing shall spring up quickly.”

God says: you know what actions are required of you as salt and light. The problem is, like Israel, we just don’t always do them. Sometimes we get distracted by other things. Sometimes we are just frankly selfishly concerned about our own needs. Sometimes we make intentional choices out of other less than ideal motivations. We know what we are called to do but we often choose not to do it. That’s why we have to come back again and again to confess the things we have done and left undone.

Doing these salt and light kinds of things isn’t always clear though. I was reflecting on what it means to be salt and light as I attended the prayer vigil sponsored by Grace Church last week in response to the proposed Keystone XL pipeline. I was thinking about all the ways we have taken a stand as a church and as individuals to do our part to care for the earth, something I think is very much an essential part of a modern interpretation of Isaiah’s list of sharing bread with the hungry and loosing the bonds of injustice. We run mostly on solar power, we have moved to greater efficiency in other ways. We have made all that known to the community. Last Monday we stood literally to be light in the community – we had candles – as a way to show our support for the continued effort to make responsible use of the earth’s resources. And yet even that in the moment felt like not enough. It felt like standing and praying and making phone calls wasn’t enough. It felt like maybe there wasn’t enough salt and light to go around, enough to make a difference. I wonder if that really isn’t at the heart of our failure to live with kindness and compassion more of the time – we get worried or frustrated when our actions as salt and light for the world don’t seem to change anything in the larger world around us.

I wonder if we sometimes worry about that as a congregation – are we big enough to make a difference? We wonder whether we have the power to make a difference doing all these things. Collecting food, sharing generously of our financial resources, going out in our daily lives to make a difference in hundreds of ways. What can we do to make a real difference in the greater scheme of things to transform hunger, injustice, oppression, and poverty? What can any one person do or a small group of people do?

I think that’s the question that Jesus is getting at in his sermon on the mount. He’s there to remind the crowd of what they already know to be true about their need to live out God’s commandments in the world. But I’ll say again, there’s nothing that particularly requires faith to live rightly in the world. What requires faith is believing what Jesus says: “You are the salt of the earth,” “You are the light of the world.”

This is not simply a reminder to do the right thing. Jesus doesn’t say you should be the salt of the earth, or you ought to be the light of the world. Jesus doesn’t say if you could simply get your act together you would be salt and light for everyone else. He simply says to this gathered crowd, to a group of people who have probably done some great things and some not so great things, ordinary people like you and me. Jesus says: you’re it. You are called and chosen by God to be the people of God in this world. God gives you now all that you need to transform the world.

And not just that you are salt and light by virtue of God having called and claimed you through the waters of baptism, though that would be enough. But also that you are salt and light for the world. You are salt and light not just to transform yourselves into better people. You are salt and light not just so that you can build a nice church community for its own sake. No, you are salt and light to the ends of the earth. God is at work transforming you. God has made you into salt and light. It is through all of us that God is at work in the world. That gives the small things that we do and the little ways we make an impact take on a whole new meaning and a whole new power, because it is done by the power of God at work in us.

This text is a reminder to us of our duty and our joy to participate in God’s liberating and redeeming work in all the world. And it is also a statement to us of who we are in relationship to the magnificent God that we have. Not simply people with a task, but a people whose identity is transformed, a people who are caught up into that magnificent God as we go out into the world to participate in God’s work to the ends of the earth. We get to be filled with the power of the risen one as God raises us and the whole earth to new life.

-Pastor Steven Wilco

 

 

 

Presentation of Our Lord – February 2, 2014

²²When the time came for their purification according to the law of Moses, they brought him up to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord ²³(as it is written in the law of the Lord, “Every firstborn male shall be designated as holy to the Lord”), ²⁴and they offered a sacrifice according to what is stated in the law of the Lord, “a pair of turtledoves or two young pigeons.”
²⁵Now there was a man in Jerusalem whose name was Simeon; this man was righteous and devout, looking forward to the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit rested on him. ²⁶It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not see death before he had seen the Lord’s Messiah. ²⁷Guided by the Spirit, Simeon came into the temple; and when the parents brought in the child Jesus, to do for him what was customary under the law, ²⁸Simeon took him in his arms and praised God, saying,
²⁹“Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace,
according to your word;
³⁰for my eyes have seen your salvation,
³¹which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples,
³²a light for revelation to the Gentiles
and for glory to your people Israel.”
³³And the child’s father and mother were amazed at what was being said about him. ³⁴Then Simeon blessed them and said to his mother Mary, “This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed ³⁵so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed — and a sword will pierce your own soul too.”
³⁶There was also a prophet, Anna the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was of a great age, having lived with her husband seven years after her marriage, ³⁷then as a widow to the age of eighty- four. She never left the temple but worshiped there with fasting and prayer night and day. ³⁸At that moment she came, and began to praise God and to speak about the child to all who were looking for the redemption of Jerusalem.
³⁹When they had finished everything required by the law of the Lord, they returned to Galilee, to their own town of Nazareth. ⁴⁰The child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom; and the favor of God was upon him. – Luke 2:22-40

This day seems a little bit busy. Today is the Super Bowl and the other SOUPer Bowl (thanks to our youth for keeping our constant attention on the needs in our community through that ministry every year). It is also Groundhog Day, halfway between the winter solstice and the spring equinox, as we in New England reflect on how tired we are of winter whether the groundhog sees his shadow or not. We’re welcoming new members and having our annual meeting – significant occasions in the life of this community as we reflect on ministry here in Amherst and on who and what it is that we need to engage that ministry. Today is also Presentation of our Lord, an interruption to the usual cycle of readings in the Sundays after Epiphany, which takes us back to Jesus as an infant. And related to that festival we observe Candlemas – an annual day on which churches bless of candles that we will use in our worship in this coming year. There’s really more here than we can pay attention to.

And I’m not going to attempt to tie them all together, except to say this: Sundays like these are a reminder that our lives are similarly hectic. Most of us talk about how busy we are, we commiserate about the busy lives we lead and the ways in which we are overcommitted. It becomes a badge of honor to be busy. One of the many problems with that is that it’s easy for us to miss important things when we get caught up in all that is going on.

Our world is similarly busy, with economic news to follow all the time– the constant monitoring of markets and endless predictions about what they will do next. The news of violence carries on, and it hit close to home this week when the high school was alerted to a potential threat to safety. The unusual winter weather this year becomes a subtle reminder of the threats of climate change on top of other environmental concerns, like the possibility of a new oil pipeline in the west. It’s hard to hear any positive news over the din of all that.

There are two people in our biblical story today, however, who are not so busy. They are not caught up in the loud and busy lives around them. Instead they have devoted their lives to looking for Jesus. However, they are not busy searching every last corner of the known world. They aren’t going from person to person asking after him. They don’t even know his name or what he looks like. Simeon and Anna wait in quiet contemplation for the arrival of God’s promise.

Both of them seem to know it as soon as they see it. They didn’t have a clear prophecy about a child and his parents, they simply knew that God had come to them in a special way in that moment when Mary and Joseph arrived at the temple. They knew that God had come to fulfill a promise not just to them but to the world. The fact that their waiting resulted in a 40-day old infant doesn’t seem to phase them, so they sing and rejoice. And their singing and rejoicing becomes a great gift to those of us who are still caught up in the loud and busy world.

Simeon sings one of the songs that has become an integral part of the church’s worship traditions. We call it the Nunc Dimittis – the first words of the Latin text of his song – Lord, now let your servant go in peace. Your word has been fulfilled. My own eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the sight of every people. You are a light to the nations and the glory of your people Israel.

With the Song of Mary, the Song of Zechariah, and the Song of the Angels, it completes the set of 4 biblical songs we have come to know from Luke’s account of Jesus’ birth. The church for hundreds of years has sung this song in two places in its worship. The first may be less familiar to those who have not been part of a community that prays the daily offices, but Simeon’s song is sung during compline, the night prayer office before going to bed. In those communities who pray these daily offices, it is sung at the end of every single day. We did this often in seminary, though I confess to going not every night. But for those who sing it before going to bed, it becomes not so much a statement of having managed to put aside the busyness of the world enough to see the presence of God come to us, but more a statement that somehow we believe deep down that even though we probably missed it more often than not, that God had come to us that day. That God was present to us every day. A reminder that as we commend our day back to God, that we are dismissed to our rest having with Simeon beheld the presence of God.

The other place this canticle holds in the church’s worship is one with which more people may be more familiar, the post-communion song. Once we have shared bread and wine in community with one another, we sing: Now Lord, you let your servant go in peace. My eyes have seen your salvation. Like the 40-day-old infant presented before Anna and Simeon, it is not always clear yet how this bread and wine will manifest itself as God’s salvation. It is not clear how a 40-day-old infant or a crumb of bread and sip of wine will be a light to the nations and the glory of a people who hold no power amidst those other nations. But it is so, for we have seen it, held it, tasted it.

We could devote our lives to contemplation, to constant expectation, but I suspect that none of us, myself included, are able to do that, not fully. And this gospel reading doesn’t call us to that life. It simply puts before us these examples of people who saw and trusted, who were fulfilled by the holy one among them. There is much to get caught up in, much to worry about, much to do. And the holy one comes and dwells in the midst of it with us. In response to our long waiting and watching, Jesus presented to us day after day. Amen.

-Pastor Steven Wilco

¹²Now when Jesus heard that John had been arrested, he withdrew to Galilee. ¹³He left Nazareth and made his home in Capernaum by the sea, in the territory of Zebulun and Naphtali, ¹⁴so that what had been spoken through the prophet Isaiah might be fulfilled:
¹⁵“Land of Zebulun, land of Naphtali,
on the road by the sea, across the Jordan, Galilee of the Gentiles — 
¹⁶the people who sat in darkness
have seen a great light,
and for those who sat in the region and shadow of death
light has dawned.”
¹⁷From that time Jesus began to proclaim, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” 
¹⁸As he walked by the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon, who is called Peter, and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea — for they were fishermen. ¹⁹And he said to them, “Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.” ²⁰Immediately they left their nets and followed him. ²¹As he went from there, he saw two other brothers, James son of Zebedee and his brother John, in the boat with their father Zebedee, mending their nets, and he called them.²²Immediately they left the boat and their father, and followed him.
²³Jesus went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing every disease and every sickness among the people. – Matthew 4:12-23

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