18th Sunday after Pentecost/Lectionary 25B
September 22, 2024
Good Shepherd Lutheran Church, Monroe, CT

³⁰[Jesus and the disciples went on] and passed through Galilee. He did not want anyone to know it; ³¹for he was teaching his disciples, saying to them, “The Son-of-Man is to be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him, and three days after being killed, he will rise again.” ³²But they did not understand what he was saying and were afraid to ask him.
 ³³Then they came to Capernaum; and when Jesus was in the house he asked them, “What were you arguing about on the way?” ³⁴But they were silent, for on the way they had argued with one another who was the greatest. ³⁵He sat down, called the twelve, and said to them, “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.” ³⁶Then he took a little child and put it among them; and taking it in his arms, he said to them, ³⁷“Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.” – Mark 9:30-37

            Everywhere I go – every congregation – at least one person in the course of my work with them and usually many people ask, “how do we get more children to our church?” I could give some best practices around developmentally appropriate faith formation, hospitality for young people in worship, the importance of prioritizing inter-generational relationships – all of which is great, but not likely in and of themselves to bring hordes of young people to your doors. 

            I could describe the changing age demographics of our country, the challenges that families with young children face today that drain time, money, and energy, and the ways in which the communities many of our churches sit in have priced out many young families. – All of which might be true but ultimately unhelpful. 

            Instead, I ask why? Usually the answer is about the adults’ anxiety. They want the church to continue, to pass on their legacy of faith to a new generation in order for their way of life to be preserved for the future. There is a remembering of a time when things seemed easier for many of our predominantly white and middle class Lutheran churches and that time was also marked by large Sunday schools. We think we will save the church if we figure out the kid problem. I don’t mean to suggest that there isn’t a deep concern for the value of faith and the desire to share that with everyone including young people. But, ultimately, none of those are reasons that resonate with young people themselves or with most of their parents. 

            So when Jesus brings a little child into the center of his conversation with the disciples as kind of an object lesson, I wonder if all of those things rattle around in the background of our minds. Just what does Jesus mean by this. Just how are we supposed to welcome such children and in doing so welcome Christ himself? 

            He does this in the midst of some pretty heavy adult-level stuff. The prediction of betrayal, suffering, and death. It’s stuff the disciples themselves clearly can’t handle. Mark tells us: “They did not understand what he was saying and were afraid to ask him.” In lieu of asking questions, exploring this rich and powerful message that ultimately will live at the core of their and our lives of faith, they do what people do when they are trying to ignore the proverbial element in the room – they argue about who is the greatest. 

            Kids and adults alike can relate to that – who is the most powerful, the smartest, the richest, the most athletic. Which kid gets to be line leader today? Who gets to be prom king and queen? Which country has the biggest military? Which politician has the most power? Which company has the best bottom line? Which church has the most attendance? 

            That’s familiar to us. And in times of anxiety, it gets worse. When, like the disciples, we hear or experience something that threatens us and our way of life, we are likely to try to avoid it and live out that anxiety in other ways. Instead of diving into the hard stuff, we turn to what we know, trying to define ourselves as part of the grand order of things, trying to determine whether we are in fact more powerful than someone else. 

            I think that’s where we find ourselves as a country these days. We’ve been through a lot of rapid changes. The economy is up, down, and sideways with more rapid than ever cycles of boom and bust. We came through a global pandemic, which I am convinced we haven’t fully unpacked emotionally. And we are in a time when institutions we have relied on, like the church but not only the church, are transforming into something very different. Too often, I don’t understand. And I’m too afraid to ask. 

            And here we are, as we avoid the deep questions and the deep anxiety, in a world fighting about greatness. Fighting with bullets and missiles, fighting with angry words and lies meant to harm, fighting with neighbors and co workers and fellow church members and family members and strangers online. We fight it out in this national election we are experiencing right now. 

            Into the midst of this argument, Jesus welcomes the child and invites us to do the same. Now I’m a parent. I’m not Pollyanna about kids – I love kids – my own and kids at large, but like adults they are complex, they have their own feelings, their own will, their own faults. Jesus doesn’t bring the child into their midst to cancel out the hard stuff and make everything sunshine and rainbows. I think he does it for a least one of a few possible reasons. 

            One is that children have an incredible capacity for imagination. At least at younger ages they float easily between reality and fantasy with no worry about the boundary between them. They are open to imagining delightful, strange, and sometimes rather clever ideas that adults too easily dismiss based on so-called reason. Perhaps Jesus is telling the disciples, telling us, that it’s time to see beyond the realities we think are set. They are reactive because they do not want Jesus to suffer and die. They know suffering and they know death. It is awful. And final. Jesus isn’t Pollyanna about any of that, but he does have a bigger vision. He is inviting them to imagine something that in their adult brains makes no sense and cannot be. Imagine resurrection. 

            Two is that children are often not afraid to ask hard questions. They do not accept that things just are – they want to know why?! And how?! They dive in and explore without the need to write up findings or come to a firm conclusion. And while sometimes those questions are about interesting little corners of the world, sometimes they are also about profound realities of life and death. Perhaps Jesus is inviting the disciples to stop squashing their questions and dive into possibilities. Admit what they don’t know and ask for guidance and help. Ponder mystery rather than easy answers. Wonder why we argue about position and who is first vs. last. 

            And children are mostly pretty good at trying new things. It doesn’t mean they always dive right in. Maybe it’s that they have to. Learning to walk, learning to talk, learning to share, learning to ride a bike, learning to care for others, learning, learning, learning – all the time something new is coming at them. Have you ever watched a child learn to walk? They have no fear or shame around falling down, not getting it right. They simply try again, try something different, see what happens next. The disciples, like many of us adults, are sometimes so stuck in our patterns, so used to the ways of the world, that we begin to fear change, fear new things, fear what sounds like it could be bad. No one wants to hear Jesus talk about the cross, but it’s also the only way we get to resurrection. 

            There are a lot more lessons we can learn from kids. I actually think we would all benefit from having more kids in our congregations – not because we have something we need to teach them or pass on to them or because we want them to be the future for us, but because they have something to teach us about who God is. That’s what Jesus means when he says that whoever welcomes one of the children welcomes him, welcomes God. Not perfection, not nice easy answers, but teachers about the way of God. People who help lead us to the cross and ultimately to resurrection. 

            As this congregation looks to the future, you have some important decisions to make. You have ministry to do. And there are a lot of ways to do that ministry. As you do that important work ahead, may you welcome the child-like spirit of curiosity, imagination, and willingness to try something new without worrying about failure. Because God is here in our midst. But God’s call may not always be what we think it is at first, and often isn’t exactly the call we want. But it is a call to accompany the God of life through every challenge ahead in order to discover new life more abundant than we can imagine. 

-Pastor Steven Wilco

17th Sunday after Pentecost (Lectionary 24B)
September 15, 2024
Shepherd of the Hills, Montpelier, VT

²⁷Jesus went on with his disciples to the villages of Caesarea Philippi; and on the way he asked his disciples, “Who do people say that I am?” ²⁸And they answered him, “John the Baptist; and others, Elijah; and still others, one of the prophets.” ²⁹Jesus asked them, “But who do you say that I am?” Peter answered him, “You are the Messiah.” ³⁰And he sternly ordered them not to tell anyone about him.
 ³¹Then he began to teach them that the Son-of-Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again. ³²He said all this quite openly. And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. ³³But turning and looking at his disciples, Jesus rebuked Peter and said, “Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”
 ³⁴Jesus called the crowd with his disciples, and said to them, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. ³⁵For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. ³⁶For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life? ³⁷Indeed, what can they give in return for their life? ³⁸Those who are ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of them the Son-of-Man will also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels.” – Mark 8:27-38

           I don’t know about you, but I have found much of the last several years particularly ungrounding. All of us had lives upended by a global pandemic. We are in the midst of a contentious political season in which much, as always, is at stake, but polarization gets worse instead of better. We are seeing more frequent devastating storms, which have affected you all here in Vermont more than most. I know it is just over a year since this building where we are worshipping today was partly inaccessible due to catastrophic flooding. And, we are in a time in which we are experiencing a radical shift in what it means to be church together – I think a shift which is certainly not all bad, but is definitely ungrounding for those of us who have loved the church into its present day form. It is a difficult time to stay grounded in the world. 

            So it is tempting to look for solid places to grab onto, to cement ourselves to, to stand firm on. We look, then, sometimes, to passages like today’s gospel reading to be those solid rocks on which to place ourselves. It is not in Mark’s gospel account, but rather Matthew’s re-telling of this same scene in which Jesus says you are Peter, the rock, and on this rock I build my church. Solid ground in the midst of big questions about life and identity and purpose. 

            That is, after all, what they are trying to answer. Who is this Jesus? Who is the one standing in their midst? Who is the one that feeds them at the table of life? Who is the one who calls them? Who is the one who heals, and guides, and loves? Is this, in fact, truly the one we can once and for all trust without fail in the midst of a world full of questions, doubts, fears, changes, and uncertainties? 

            And for centuries, many iterations of the church have taken this as the final word, the unchanging end-all-be-all of Christian faith. In a theological sense, yes. The confession of Jesus as God-made-flesh to be our savior is absolutely true. But I fear we Christians have too often treated it as the end goal, the last stop on a weary journey through the world to arrive finally at this solid place. We often long for church and faith to be the thing that at last we can fling ourselves onto and forget the worries that have plagued us. 

            Instead, I think, it is the beginning. The confession “you are the Messiah” is one that launches us into a whole new way of being in the world. Instead of a landing point it is a jumping off point. It’s one of the reasons I love the Lutheran practice of baptizing infants as well as those who come to the waters at older ages. But with infants we have no idea what lies ahead. We have no idea what gifts they will bring to the world, what challenges they will face, what mistakes they will make, or how the world will change around them. But we gather as a community and confess our faith and from there send the child forward to meet what is ahead, rooted and grounded in the promises God makes in those waters. 

            This confession is at the center for us. The center of life and faith. In fact, it falls right at the center of Mark’s gospel narrative, dividing in many ways what is before and what is after. But let me tell you the thing that makes Mark my favorite of the gospels (I know, we’re not supposed to have favorites, but most pastors have one.) In Mark when the results of this confession reach their inevitable conclusion on the cross. When Jesus has been buried and then the women discover not the risen Christ but only the empty tomb. The angel who greets them sends them back to Galilee to find him. Which is exactly where the story starts – not with the birth in Bethlehem as we get in Luke or Matthew, but in the middle of things up in Galilee. It’s as if the resurrection sends us back into the world to do it all over again. Every time we experience death, we are greeted with a message of hope to seek God anew in the midst of the living. The ending is the beginning. And in the center Christ, the Messiah. 

            This, beloved children of God, is what being church is all about. Not about trying to get the world to finally land here in this confession of faith. Not about trying to pull and force all of the wild and stormy world into a neat and tidy confession of faith. Not even trying, necessarily, to get more people to sit in church on Sunday morning. It’s about staying grounded in the one who is all-in-all, as we experience the cycles of death and new life, over and over again. It’s about a touch point in the center that allows us to go back out and face that world of uncertainty and questions and grief and change with the knowledge that we are not alone, but rather tethered to the one who loves us. It’s about the capacity to go forth in the messiness and be God’s hands and feet in the world. 

            Like Peter I sometimes want to call Jesus aside and explain just how hard all this is sometimes. Enough with the hard stuff, Jesus. Just save us already. Scoop us up and land us on that final solid ground where we don’t have to sort through the messy muck within us and around us. But Jesus rebukes Peter. With words that sound harsh, but I think of them as said with compassion. “I know, Peter. I get it. I love you. And this is the way, so get behind me. And follow. Because we are indeed going to go through hell. But that’s the only way to resurrection.” This is Jesus calling heaven and hell alike to get in line because this journey is going to upend the grip that suffering and pain have on the world and rip to shreds the finality of death once and for all. Hang on, it will be a wild ride, but we’re starting off from a place that won’t allow us to fail – the confession of Christ as Messiah.

            So, dear ones – what does that mean? I invite us to go from here as you do every Sunday, back into the fray – to whatever joys and challenges await you in your life this week and the weeks ahead. Into the contentious election season, into the world broken by violence and divided by barriers between groups of people, into lives marked by illness, grief, and pain. But go from this solid foundation that Christ is in it all, Christ is with you in it all. 

            And for the church – the church at large and your small and faithful congregation here in Montpelier – it means trusting the solid foundation at the center and being willing to boldly step forward from there into whatever challenges lie ahead. It means that the life of the church goes through cycles of death and resurrection, where challenges come, some ministries end and new ones begin, some ways of being church end and new ways of being church together emerge, all of it grounded because the center is sure. I don’t know what the future holds for you here. You have ministry to do. God is at work here. That is no guarantee that everything will be easy, that people will flock to Sunday morning worship, that you will have financial stability forever. It is a guarantee that God walks with you in it. 

            Remember, because of this confession at the center, death is never the last thing or the worst thing because Christ is the Messiah and resurrection is coming. Amen. 

-Pastor Steven Wilco

12th Sunday after Pentecost (Lectionary 19B)
Sunday, August 11, 2024
St. Paul Lutheran, Terryville, CT & Our Savior Lutheran, Thomaston, CT

⁴Elijah went a day’s journey into the wilderness, and came and sat down under a solitary broom tree. He asked that he might die: “It is enough; now, O Lord, take away my life, for I am no better than my ancestors.” ⁵Then he lay down under the broom tree and fell asleep. Suddenly an angel touched him and said to him, “Get up and eat.” ⁶Elijah looked, and there at his head was a cake baked on hot stones, and a jar of water. He ate and drank, and lay down again. ⁷The angel of the Lord came a second time, touched him, and said, “Get up and eat, otherwise the journey will be too much for you.” ⁸Elijah got up, and ate and drank; then he went in the strength of that food forty days and forty nights to Horeb the mount of God. – 1 Kings 19:4-8

³⁵Jesus said to them, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.”
 ⁴¹Then the Judeans began to complain about him because he said, “I am the bread that came down from heaven.” ⁴²They were saying, “Is not this Jesus, the son of Joseph, whose father and mother we know? How can he now say, ‘I have come down from heaven’?” ⁴³Jesus answered them, “Do not complain among yourselves. ⁴⁴No one can come to me unless drawn by the Father who sent me; and I will raise that person up on the last day. ⁴⁵It is written in the prophets, ‘And they shall all be taught by God.’ Everyone who has heard and learned from the Father comes to me. ⁴⁶Not that anyone has seen the Father except the one who is from God; this one has seen the Father. ⁴⁷Very truly, I tell you, whoever believes has eternal life. ⁴⁸I am the bread of life. ⁴⁹Your ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness, and they died. ⁵⁰This is the bread that comes down from heaven, so that one may eat of it and not die. ⁵¹I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.” – John 6:35, 41-51

I am so grateful for the lectionary reflections by Debie Thomas, whose commentary on these texts inspired this sermon.

            It is summer. The time of road trips. And no good road trip is complete without snacks! There’s an internet meme that I see periodically that says “It doesn’t matter how old you get, buying snacks for a road trip should look like an unsupervised 9-year-old was given $100.” 

            On family vacations growing up we did a fair amount of eating out, but we always had food in the car – bagel, ham, and cheese sandwiches for lunch. There were always grapes at least if not other fruit and vegetables. Usually Cheez-its, a personal favorite of mine to this day, and chips and cookies. My dad, who did most of the actual driving, always had a bag of Jolly Ranchers, which he would request by flavor from whomever was in the passenger seat. 

            For my job, I do a lot of driving, which I mostly love, but I don’t go anywhere first thing in the morning without a mug of coffee and a mug of tea. I carry gum in the car at all times – which keeps me from too much mindless snacking. There is usually a small stash of protein bars for when I need something more substantive. And I can tell you a good Dunkin, Starbucks, Panera, or local cafe in most parts of western New England including which have good wi-fi and quiet background noise for zoom meetings. 

            In a less literal sense of journey we bring food to nourish people who are ill. We pack freezers with ready-made dishes for those who are grieving. We send young ones off to school with a good breakfast. We cook meals to celebrate family and holidays or to welcome friends. We often mark anniversaries and birthdays with special meals.  

            Point is, we need food to keep us going on a journey. Food that we enjoy, food that nourishes our body, even, though I wouldn’t recommend this as a general nutritional strategy, food to help us stay entertained on long, open stretches.

            Problem is, Elijah, prophet of God, fresh off a victory over hundreds of priests of the idol Baal, has forgotten to pack road trip food for his journey. And he’s gotten a little cranky. “It is enough!” he says. He is done with this journey, done with this job, done, in fact, with life itself. He has lived an exhausting calling, one with brilliant moments of glory to be sure, but one mostly made up of a lonely daily push against the tide. He just doesn’t have it in him to take another step. So he lies down to go to sleep. 

            God sends a messenger, not with a pep-talk about how great he is, not with a “look on the bright side” Pollyanna kind of speech, not with a guilt-trip about how important the ministry of God is for a broken and hurting world. Instead the messenger brings bread. And then tells him to take a nap. And brings another cake of bread. Eat, rest, repeat. You aren’t ready yet. 

            It is only after rest and nourishment that God invites him to the next bit of the journey. And this is a miracle story of sorts – the bread of God in this moment is enough for 40 days journey. But God doesn’t rush him back into the fray, doesn’t demand more productivity. God sends him to yet another encounter, this time with God’s very self, where there is a promise that he is not alone and that there is value in his work. But even that waits until after Elijah is well-fed and well-rested. 

            It is the bread of life offered to Elijah. Not bread to end all hunger, nor bread to fix all problems, nor bread to elevate him to some kind of better place. But bread of life for the journey. Bread enough for the next step. 

            Sometimes we feel like Elijah. We have not nourished ourselves in body, mind, or spirit and we are ready just to collapse. I think many of our churches feel this way today. They feel alone. They feel like they are speaking into a world which at best cares little and which at worst is openly hostile. They see emptier pews, smaller budgets, closing congregations, and they get scared. I do think exciting things are happening in churches. In your church. But perhaps they aren’t the same things we’ve always known. Maybe it’s joy in finding partners who aren’t exactly like us. Maybe it’s discovering a community need we can meet in a way we never thought of before. Maybe it’s in discovering gifts within ourselves that feed one another in ways we once delegated only to the pastors. Maybe it’s in finding the joy of just being where we are in this moment with what God has given us here. But sometimes we can’t see it. We are tired. Like Elijah we are ready to give up or at least lie down for a good long while. 

            God is here, not to fix everything, not to tell you how to do magic ministry to restore institutional religion to something it once was. God is here to give you bread for the journey. 

            I don’t know how you were feeling as you arrived here this morning. I hope that things are going well in your life. But most of us have something going on in our lives that wears us thin. Overworked, anxious for the future, dealing with health concerns, burdened by the weight of world weary with division and violence. I would like God to fix it all. 

            But instead God offers the same thing Jesus offered to the hungry crowd – a bit of bread. Not enough to transform everything. In fact, in today’s continuation of the story in John’s gospel it starts to get some people pretty upset with Jesus. It is not a magic answer. But miraculously it is just enough to keep going. Just enough to take the next step. 

            Come again today to the table. Follow the invitation of the psalmist to taste and see the goodness of God. Eat the bread of life. Know that God is here. Know that you are not alone. Be fed for the next step of the journey. 

            Then go. Go be food for a hungry world. You are not called to go from here to fix everything, do everything, be everything. You are called to go from here and be you, the person God created you to be. And to feed the little corner of the world you touch. 

            So when you face challenges this week – a difficult conversation, a troubling news story, a loss or sadness, anxiety about what is next – remember the bread this morning. Feel it within you. Know it is not the solution to everything, but it is God with you until you can meet at this table again for another morsel. It is enough, this little bit of bread, for what you need. You are enough, dear people of God, for what this world needs. That is no promise of earthly success or easy living, but a promise that God is feeding the world through you. 

I cannot answer questions about your future. Not your individual ones certainly, not even our collective questions about the future of our individual congregations. But I do know that today there is bread enough for the journey. Come and eat.            

-Pastor Steven Wilco

8th Sunday after Pentecost (Lectionary 15B)
July 14, 2024
Zion Lutheran Church, Bristol, CT

¹⁴ King Herod heard of [the disciples’ preaching,] for Jesus’ name had become known. Some were saying, “John the baptizer has been raised from the dead; and for this reason these powers are at work in him.” ¹⁵ But others said, “It is Elijah.” And others said, “It is a prophet, like one of the prophets of old.” ¹⁶ But when Herod heard of it, he said, “John, whom I beheaded, has been raised.”
  ¹⁷ For Herod himself had sent men who arrested John, bound him, and put him in prison on account of Herodias, his brother Philip’s wife, because Herod had married her. ¹⁸ For John had been telling Herod, “It is not lawful for you to marry your brother’s wife.” ¹⁹ And Herodias had a grudge against John, and wanted to kill him. But she could not, ²⁰ for Herod feared John, knowing that he was a righteous and holy man, and he protected him. When Herod heard John, he was greatly perplexed; and yet he liked to listen to him. ²¹ But an opportunity came when Herod on his birthday gave a banquet for his courtiers and officers and for the leaders of Galilee. ²² When his daughter Herodias came in and danced, she pleased Herod and his guests; and the king said to the girl, “Ask me for whatever you wish, and I will give it.” ²³ And he solemnly swore to her, “Whatever you ask me, I will give you, even half of my kingdom.” ²⁴ She went out and said to her mother, “What should I ask for?” The mother replied, “The head of John the baptizer.” ²⁵ Immediately she rushed back to the king and requested, “I want you to give me at once the head of John the Baptist on a platter.” ²⁶ The king was deeply grieved; yet out of regard for his oaths and for the guests, he did not want to refuse her. ²⁷ Immediately the king sent a soldier of the guard with orders to bring John’s head. The soldier went and beheaded John in the prison, ²⁸ brought his head on a platter, and gave it to the girl. Then the girl gave it to her mother. ²⁹ When John’s disciples heard about it, they came and took his body, and laid it in a tomb. -= Mark 6:14-29

           If you can get past the gruesome, gory details of the beheading of John the Baptist, imagine what it would have been like to be invited to the King’s birthday party – a magnificent event with lots of rich and powerful people. Fancy clothes, rich food, music and dancing. 

King Herod is by most measures a wild success. He grew up in a royal household. His territory is not the largest by any means, but he holds power over a significant territory in a powerful empire. He was far from the favorite son of his equally gruesome father, but he received the best education money could buy in the very power center of the Mediterranean world, the equivalent of a law degree at Harvard or an MBA at Columbia. As king, he initiated many a building project, fortifying his small corner of the Roman empire against attack. He lived in grand style, capable of throwing magnificent parties no doubt attended by the crème-de-la-crème of Judean society. He surely was busy as a leader, but he was also busy enjoying the many benefits of his position of power. 

            Whether we buy in fully or not, most of us are influenced by a society that lifts up power, wealth, influence, fortification of territory, and the opportunity to live a life of privilege. Who among us hasn’t envied a neighbor has more disposable income or what we perceive to be a better life, a better marriage, a better job, a better house, a better whatever. Or dreamed what we’d do with a mega-millions lottery win. For that matter, what church hasn’t looked around with envy at another congregation and envied their budget and attendance numbers, what seems to be from the outside a thriving church. 

            I genuinely value compassion, service, caring for others, equality and justice, the power of love and peace over the power of money and war. And… I’m human, so sometimes – too often, perhaps – I forget what I value and give in to the longing for power, wealth and success as defined by the world’s standards. I don’t envy Herod, at least not the Herod in this story, but he represents a kind of celebrity that holds a certain appeal. 

            But Jesus is not invited to Herod’s party. And he’s made it pretty clear that he wouldn’t attend even if he got an invitation served up on a silver platter. In fact, in other gospels Jesus tells a parable about an invitation to a party – when the powerful people are too busy the character in the parable throws open the door to the anyone and everyone to come to the feast. 

            While Herod is busy throwing parties and building up fortifications, Jesus is out healing – raising from the dead a little girl that society doesn’t really value that much, healing a woman who had been written off for her disease. He gets busy healing the multitudes of all manner of diseases – people whose names weren’t considered important enough to record, people whose status in society was probably very low. And immediately after this, Jesus will find himself surrounded by a crowd of hungry thousands. The disciples will turn to the obvious and remind him that they don’t have enough money to buy food for them all. But Jesus refuses to operate by the rules that govern the economy and feeds the thousands with a few loaves of bread. 

            It’s such a contrast, these two ways of living. Those who abide by the rules of power, wealth, and influence and those who abide by the rules of open generosity, deep compassion, and resurrection hope. To be clear, rarely if ever does Jesus outright condemn wealth, power, or influence – there are wealthy people who share openly, powerful people who bring themselves low to honor Jesus, and influential people who play a part in the story of salvation. But to orient one’s whole life toward it, to celebrate the things that will ultimately fail, is in the end a path of death. 

            This story is a reminder of what comes of those things we so often cling to. It’s John the Baptist’s gruesome death, yes. But ultimately we see the emptiness in the characters that surround Herod, too. They may not come to the same untimely death, but they have missed the best part of living. 

            This moment in the narrative of Jesus, this strange interlude stuck in the middle of the narrative of Jesus’ evolving ministry, strikes me as an invitation to us to consider which party we’re knocking on the door to get into. Two paths before us, two leaders we could follow, two ways of being in the world. 

As I was returning from vacation this past week I was reading the poetry of Wendell Berry and one stood out to me as a kind of commentary on this reading.¹ I won’t read you the whole poem, partly for time, partly for what I think are some parts that are difficult for processing from an oral reading. But he starts out as if with an invitation to Herod’s party: 

“Love the quick profit, the annual raise,
vacation with pay. Want more 
of everything ready-made. Be afraid 
to know your neighbors and to die.

And you will have a window in your head. 
Not even your future will be a mystery 
any more. Your mind will be punched in a card 
and shut away in a little drawer. 

When they want you to buy something 
they will call you. When they want you 
to die for profit they will let you know.

But then he turns, inviting us instead to Jesus’ kind of party: 

So, friends, every day do something 
that won’t compute. Love the Lord. 
Love the world. Work for nothing. 
Take all that you have and be poor. 
Love someone who does not deserve it.

He continues, for several lines that I think mean, in essence, embrace patriotism as a love of your land and your fellow people but reject nationalism, the idea that one nation, one party, one way of being is always right and others wrong. He says…

Expect the end of the world. Laugh. 
Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful 
though you have considered all the facts.

He ends, and I’m skipping ahead here: Practice resurrection. 

For that’s what resurrection is, in part. Yes, the calling forth of all God’s people on the final day to live anew. But also the call to die to the way the world asks us to be and in doing so find ourselves resurrected to a new and abundant life. 

            I think that is part of what we are doing together as we form Faith Lutheran Chruch in Bristol. We’ve stopped trying to go it alone, stopped trying to make the numbers work, stopped trying to succeed by the world’s measures. And in coming together we have to let go. In fact, we have to die. Only in letting go do we find ourselves resurrected. There will be moments in this process, moments in the life of this new congregation, where we, human that we are, will turn back to what we know from the world around us – looking for financial security, large numbers of people, perhaps even notoriety and influence. But God will keep calling us back to a life of generosity that doesn’t count costs, to the sharing of resources without calculation, to the celebration of all God’s people no matter their age, race, gender, sexual identity, bank account balance, language, or ability, to the healing power of relationships with one another. There will be moments when we have to die – to ourselves, our ideas about how things should be, and, yes, all of us, too, will one day die. If we haven’t gotten it by then, Jesus will be there to meet us and walk us forward into that far more life-giving resurrection party.

            Practice resurrection, dear friends. When the world serves us gruesome violence or asks us to give ourselves over to the things we know cannot give us life in the end, practice resurrection. Follow the way of Jesus, whose party is always open to you, to everyone, and death no longer has a seat at the table. 

-Pastor Steven Wilco

“Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front,” The Peace of Wild Things by Wendell Berry, Penguin Random House, 1964, p. 54-55.

6th Sunday after Pentecost (Lectionary 13B)
June 30, 2024
Congregations of Grace, Zion, and St. Andrew, in Bristol/Plainville, CT

Recording of worship available here: https://www.youtube.com/live/uUKxQWp3j20?si=r3CoLaN4fK1KnlZV

²¹ When Jesus had crossed again in the boat to the other side, a great crowd gathered around him; and he was by the sea. ²² Then one of the leaders of the synagogue named Jairus came and, when he saw Jesus, fell at his feet ²³ and begged him repeatedly, “My little daughter is at the point of death. Come and lay your hands on her, so that she may be made well, and live.” ²⁴ So Jesus went with him.
  And a large crowd followed him and pressed in on him. ²⁵ Now there was a woman who had been suffering from hemorrhages for twelve years. ²⁶ She had endured much under many physicians, and had spent all that she had; and she was no better, but rather grew worse. ²⁷ She had heard about Jesus, and came up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak, ²⁸ for she said, “If I but touch his clothes, I will be made well.” ²⁹ Immediately her hemorrhage stopped; and she felt in her body that she was healed of her disease. ³⁰ Immediately aware that power had gone forth from him, Jesus turned about in the crowd and said, “Who touched my clothes?” ³¹ And his disciples said to him, “You see the crowd pressing in on you; how can you say, ‘Who touched me?’ ” ³² Jesus looked all around to see who had done it. ³³ But the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came in fear and trembling, fell down before him, and told him the whole truth. ³⁴ He said to her, “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.”
  ³⁵ While he was still speaking, some people came from the leader’s house to say, “Your daughter is dead. Why trouble the teacher any further?” ³⁶ But overhearing what they said, Jesus said to the leader of the synagogue, “Do not fear, only believe.” ³⁷ Jesus allowed no one to follow him except Peter, James, and John, the brother of James. ³⁸ When they came to the house of the leader of the synagogue, Jesus saw a commotion, people weeping and wailing loudly. ³⁹ When he had entered, he said to them, “Why do you make a commotion and weep? The child is not dead but sleeping.” ⁴⁰ And they laughed at him. Then he put them all outside, and took the child’s father and mother and those who were with him, and went in where the child was. ⁴¹ Jesus took her by the hand and said to her, “Talitha cum,” which means, “Little girl, get up!” ⁴² And immediately the girl got up and began to walk about (she was twelve years of age). At this they were overcome with amazement. ⁴³ Jesus strictly ordered them that no one should know this, and told them to give her something to eat. – Mark 5: 21-43

            If you know me at all, you know I like to have a plan. I like to know what will happen, what comes next, what the 1, 3, 5 10, 20-year plan is. If I could plan out every last week of my life I’d probably be happy. But we all have plans right? 

            We have plans for ourselves – maybe we have a vacation bucket list, a plan for our retirement, a hope for what our lives will be like in the future. We have plans to stay in our job and grow there or find a new job that is more fulfilling. 

            We have plans for our families – we want to see our kids, our grandkids, our nieces and nephews, the kids in our lives grow and flourish, go off and find their dreams, their passions, and above all be happy. 

            We have a plan for this new ministry that is forming. We have ideas for what we can accomplish better together. What will be possible, what will find new life with a bigger community ready to share the love of God.

            We have plans for the world – we want our country to flourish, for peace between nations, for communities that embrace all people.  

            We have beautiful, wonderful plans. 

            So did Jairus. Jairus had a daughter. He wanted to see her grow up, see her find her way in the world, see her flourish. But she is struck with a sudden illness. She is on the brink of death. All of her plans, all of Jairus’s plans for his life and hers are at risk. There is no plan now. None of his religious training, his community connections, his wisdom or skill can plan his way out of this. There is nothing he can do except throw himself at the feet of Jesus. 

            So, too, the bleeding woman. She had plans for her own life. She had surely imagined her life differently. But she has spent 12 years experiencing a total lack of control over something in her body. Something that disrupts her plans, her life, her connections to community. She cannot fix it herself. None of the doctors she has seen have been able to help her, one wonders, even, if they might have only made it worse. There is no plan anymore, except to throw herself at the feet of Jesus. 

            And you know as well or better than I do, that our plans sometimes run up against the same kinds of uncontrollable interruptions. A loved one dies suddenly. A terrible diagnosis arises out of nowhere or an illness we cannot diagnose grinds our life to a screeching halt. A relationship fractures. We lose a job, a natural disaster damages our home, something we worked hard on falls to pieces. That doesn’t even touch the hopes we have for peace and wholeness in the world, which seem impossibly beyond our control even when we engage in all the ways we know to alleviate the suffering of others and advocate for justice. 

            We have a pretty good plan for this new ministry. One which will finally have a name today!! We have worked hard for two years to get here. There is still much work ahead. The steering committee has been slogging through some administrative preparations while also thinking and dreaming about ministry opportunities. The call committee is ready to interview pastoral candidates. You all are invited to be part of that planning. 

            But along the way we’ve already encountered some interruptions to our plans. Things that caused us to pause, rethink, replan; moments of fear frustration, and uncertainty. I have often spoken of the work of this particular process as taking one step at a time, checking in, praying, and then taking the next step. By the grace of God we keep moving forward on the path.

            And there will be more interruptions along the way. I don’t know what they will be, but I know they will come. This ministry, like those that exist now, will have hard moments, things that disrupt the best laid plans. And while I think it will be a strong and thriving ministry for some time to come, there will be times where we have no choice but to throw ourselves at the feet of Jesus and trust that God’s healing power, God’s capacity for resurrection will carry us forward.

            The thing about our plans is that they only carry us so far. Our plans have created the brokenness in our lives, our communities, and our world. Our plans, no matter how good, eventually fail one way or another. And yet we remain rather attached to them. At times, we’d rather follow our own plans even when they lead to things falling apart. 

            But that’s exactly where Jesus meets us: in the moments when our plans fall apart and we aren’t sure where to turn next. Jesus meets us on the road, listens to our cries, opens himself to sharing the divine healing power. Jesus comes to our deathbed and calls us to rise up. 

            It’s this experience that empowers us to go out and meet the world in its brokenness. Our community, our world is in desperate need. This ministry we’re a part of isn’t just a nice thing we do – it’s life and death stuff. It’s food for the hungry, solace for the grieving, hope for the hopeless, healing for the sick, and new life for those who are dying. When Jesus meets us in our disrupted, broken lives we are transformed to be conduits for God’s healing power for the sake of the world. 

            Ministry – this ministry – this will continue to be hard. There is grief ahead in these months. You will be saying goodbye to the plans you once had for your individual congregations. Saying goodbye to buildings or to a building as you’ve known it. Saying goodbye to traditions that even where they find life in the new ministry will still feel different. Saying goodbye to the particular way you have been community. Yes, there is much to celebrate, much life and healing and resurrection in the new ministry forming. But this is also a time of plans interrupted. A time of Jesus meeting us, taking time to see us. 

            There’s something that often happens with Jesus in the healing stories. He usually doesn’t just wave his hand over the crowd or send healing from afar. When Jairus comes to him he asks to visit the girl in their home. When the woman touches him, she is healed. But Jesus stops – not to chastise her but to see her, know her, offer her his attention. 

            God meets us here. Whatever burdens you bring today. Whatever needs healing. Whatever plans you have that have fallen apart. Whether in this process of coming together as a new ministry you feel you are despairing at the deathbed or witnessing the resurrection, Jesus has come to meet us here this morning. God meets us in word and song, bread and wine, in the presence of one another. And whatever our plans may be, God’s plan is always, always for new life. 

-Pastor Steven Wilco

5th Sunday in Lent
Saturday, March 16, 2024
Holy Trinity Lutheran Church, Canton, NY (part of the North Country Lutheran Parish in Saranac Lake, Canton, and Plattsburgh, NY)

²⁰Now among those who went up to worship at the festival were some Greeks. ²¹They came to Philip, who was from Bethsaida in Galilee, and said to him, “Sir, we wish to see Jesus.” ²²Philip went and told Andrew; then Andrew and Philip went and told Jesus. ²³Jesus answered them, “The hour has come for the Son-of-Man to be glorified. ²⁴Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. ²⁵Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. ²⁶Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honor.
 ²⁷Now my soul is troubled. And what should I say—;‘Father, save me from this hour’? No, it is for this reason that I have come to this hour. ²⁸Father, glorify your name.” Then a voice came from heaven, “I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again.” ²⁹The crowd standing there heard it and said that it was thunder. Others said, “An angel has spoken to him.” ³⁰Jesus answered, “This voice has come for your sake, not for mine. ³¹Now is the judgment of this world; now the ruler of this world will be driven out. ³²And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.” ³³Jesus said this to indicate the kind of death he was to die. – John 12:20-33

            It is almost officially spring. Time of year for new life, new growth, and planting of seeds. Where I live in Massachusetts the planting calendar has finally given the go ahead to start some seeds indoors. It’s a warm month so far but we can get frost into May, so it’s only the frost resistant vegetables like lettuces, chard, and kale and the seeds that take a long time to germinate before they are ready for planting like bell peppers. Some spring bulbs are sprouting, my bee balm is just beginning to send up some new growth, the pussy willow is budding. I am excited. 

            And I also have been practicing the discipline of waiting. For the sake of the pollinators I didn’t clear out the brush from last fall. I let things sit. I reminded myself that the winter dormancy is necessary for the cycle of new life that is about to spring forward. It will be summer filled with life and energy and hopefully delicious vegetables for my family and flowering plants for the insects. But fall and winter will come again. Plants will wilt and brown and go dormant or die out altogether. 

            Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies it remains a single grain, but if it dies, it bears much fruit. We take this too often for granted, this miraculous and wonderful gift of seeds that break open and provide new growth and the seeds that will become next year’s abundance. 

            This is the metaphor Jesus uses today. It’s in response to a plea from some visiting Greeks: “Sir, we wish to see Jesus!” What a prayer. If I only had one prayer for the rest of my days that might be a good contender. In joy and sorrow, in challenge and opportunity, I wish to see Jesus revealed.          

            But in all honesty, I want to see Jesus revealed in the abundance of new life. I want to see Jesus revealed in beautiful gardens bursting with colorful blooms, in deep red, juicy tomatoes hanging from the plant, abundant blackberries sweet and tart ready for picking. I want to see Jesus in the exuberance and life and joy. I want to see the Jesus of Easter morning.

            But we are here, still in Lent. We sometimes see Lent as a season where we hold back, fast, pray, enact penitence, all in preparation for Easter to burst forth and be the real celebration. But this image Jesus presents in response to the plea to see him, reminds us that we are not waiting for Jesus to be in the Easter reveal. Jesus is in it all along the way. Jesus is in the death and the dormancy, in the fruit burst apart to gift seeds for next year’s new growth. 

            This is a reminder I need constantly. I often feel I need to get it all together for God, that I need to have everything in order, my brokenness repaired, my sins contained. And I think many of our churches feel that way – that we’ll have Jesus when the pews are full, when the budget is balanced, when we have a full-time pastor, when whatever program we remember being successful in the past is alive again. 

            The gift of this image of the seed dying in the earth is that when we’re looking for Jesus we don’t have to wait for the new growth. Jesus is in the dying and the rising. The death and the new life. 

            Here in the North Country, you’ve already been through a number of changes. At Holy Trinity you’ve been in different locations. Folks at Redeemer have been in the same location but have been served by a number of pastors. You all have said farewell to your most recent pastor as he retired. Ministry here is nimble, and you all have stepped up to lead as lay members, willing to dive deep into scripture, theology, mission, and more to continue proclaiming God’s love in this place. You’ve seen many cycles of growth and decline, just within your own ministry. 

            But it’s not just one big cycle like our annual seasonal changes, it’s also one thing growing as another is receding. Nothing grows all the time. There is a natural ebb and flow. As if the church is a giant field in which some plants are sprouting, some are producing fruit, some are dying back, and some ground is fallow for what comes next. 

            In this stage as a congregation, you’re exploring your mission as a newly formed parish. What can you do together that you couldn’t do alone? Call a pastor, yes. But what else? What new mission might emerge? What has lived its fruitful life and will give way to make space for something new. What will this next phase of your ministry bring? We talked about some of that in our meeting earlier today. Jesus, I trust, is in it all. 

            This is true in our communities, too, both small local community and big world community. There are challenges here that are reflected in all of our communities – poverty, racism, conflict. We live in a politically divided country and a world full of war, famine, and disease. Climate change threatens to destabilize our global ecosystem. There is much to worry over. And also the gifts of people who engage in building relationships, creating solutions, brokering peace, welcoming immigrants and refugees, and so much more. Dying and rising, death and life, and Jesus in it all.

            What is growing in you? Or dying back in you? What gifts might be dormant within you that are needed by your community? In health changes, in job changes, in relationship changes, in new opportunities and missed chances, have you prayed that you might see Jesus? Where have you felt Jesus’ presence in it? Where in your life are you still struggling to see God’s walking with you? 

            Wherever you are in your own journey today. Whether you see clearly Jesus leading you or whether your struggle to see Christ’s presence in the ups and downs of life, come today again to the table of mercy. 

            Here, as we sometimes sing in the ancient words of the early church, the grains of wheat once scattered on the hills were gathered into one to become our bread, so may all your people from all the ends of earth by gathered into one in you.

            Here we take into ourselves the fruit of that grain. Seeds that have burst forth with life, completed their cycle. And Christ’s body, crucified and risen, in with and under the grain. Together they become a seed in us. Revealing anew to us the presence of Christ dying and rising in us. The gift we receive at this table is one that renews in us the call of God and equips us to grow and bear fruit, and, yes, even equips us to die – to die to our own sin, our own control, our own insistence on how things ought to be, even ultimately gets us ready for when death itself finally comes. It renews in us God’s promise that death is not the worst thing or the last thing, but a moment in which through God new life is about to spring forth.  

Pastor Steven Wilco