Through the Door Into Something New

Text: John 1:29-42

The season of Epiphany, which we are in right now, can get a little lost in the church year. Coming between Christmas and Lent, it is a curious, transition space with John the Baptizer, the call of the disciples, and early teaching and miracles. In this season, we are asked to look at the same world we’ve always known and see something entirely different.

That need for epiphany- a new way of seeing happens for the people in today’s gospel. John, son of Zechariah, is standing by the Jordan, at the edge of the wilderness. He’s doing his thing: wearing odd clothes, eating strange food, preaching repentance, dunking people in the muddy water, challenging the status quo. People are coming to see him because he is interesting, but they know what to expect as they come. One day, John looks up and sees Jesus walking toward him.

John doesn’t just say, "Hey, there’s my cousin." He says something that would have greatly surprised his listeners: "Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world."

To understand why this was such a shock, and why it signaled a massive "something new" was happening, we must look backward. When John calls Jesus the "Lamb," he is invoking one of the deepest, oldest memories of the Jewish people: the Passover.

Recall the shape of the Exodus story. The Israelites were enslaved in Egypt. They were stuck in a cycle of generational trauma, forced labor, and hopelessness. Through Moses, God promised freedom. Freedom, liberation, a new beginning requires a marking—a boundary between the old life of slavery and the new life of the wilderness.

In that first Passover, the role of the lamb was specific and visceral:

Each family took a lamb, "without blemish." It was an asset, a sign of their livelihood. After killing the lamb, they were told to take the blood of that lamb and smear it on the doorposts of their homes. That blood was a sign. It identified who belonged to the God of life, to the covenant of life. When the plague of death passed over Egypt, those marked by the lamb were spared.

 

The lamb was the bridge. It was the price of the exit ramp from Egypt. Without the lamb, there was no exodus. Without the lamb, they remained slaves.

So, when John points at Jesus and says, "There is the Lamb," he is telling the crowd: The exit ramp is here. The time of enslavement to your old ways, your old habits, and your old systems is over. God is once again trying to lead you into freedom, into a new way of being, into a bondage of mercy and justice.

The hardest part of faith—and frankly, the hardest part of being human—is recognizing when one way has served its purpose and is no longer doing what it was meant to do.  In that time, we often cast about and resist change, even when we know in our heart that it is time to be open to something different and, even, new. 

The Baptizer is the ultimate model for this. John had a successful ministry! He had disciples. People were coming to him, and he was pointing them to a new way of living in and for God.  But the moment he sees Jesus, he points away from himself. He realizes his role was to prepare, not to possess.

How do we know when it’s time to do something new? How do we recognize our own "Lamb of God" moments?

In the text, two of John’s disciples hear him speak and they immediately start following Jesus. They don’t wait for a three-year strategic plan. They feel a tug. Usually, when God is calling us to something new, there is a holy restlessness. The old "Egypt", the old addiction, the old habit, the old way of relating to friends, family, or neighbors, starts to feel cramped. The space becomes tight because your capacity is bigger.

When Jesus realizes he’s being followed, he turns around and asks a question to anyone who would follow him: "What are you looking for?" 

He doesn’t ask, "What do you want to do?" or "Where do you want to be in five years?” He asks about the hunger of their hearts. To do something new, you have to be honest about what you are actually seeking. Are you seeking comfort? Or do you want to be in the company of the "Lamb" who changes everything?

The disciples answer with a question: "Where are you staying?" And Jesus gives them the only answer that matters: "Come and see." Newness rarely comes with a map. It comes with an invitation to walk. You don't get the clarity beforeyou start moving; you get the clarity while you are in motion. The disciples stayed with him that day. They sat in his space. They listened to his breath. They didn’t learn everything in the first day, but they gained enough wisdom and clarity to stay for a second day and so on. Learning the shape of something new takes time and trust.  

There is a beautiful, quiet detail at the end of this passage. Andrew, one of those two disciples, goes and finds his brother, Simon Peter. He tells him, "We have found the Messiah."

Think about the courage that took. Andrew had to leave John —his teacher, his mentor, his "safe" religious home—to follow a carpenter from Nazareth. Andrew had to trust that this Lamb was indeed a doorpost to pass through for life, for freedom, for God’s future of hope for the world.

We each must ask ourselves: what is my Egypt? What is the thing that is keeping you from the new place to which God is calling? Is it a grudge you’ve held for years? Is it your judgment of people whose lives do not look like yours? Is it the idea that the church or the town or the community should always be the same? Imagine what it would have meant for the enslaved Israelites to have been more afraid of the unknown than they were of Pharaoh or the horror of his rule.

John stood at the edge of the water and had the grace to say, "He must increase, but I must decrease." He recognized that the Lamb had arrived to take the sin of the world—including our corporate sin of resisting the call of the will of God.

The Lamb of the first Passover was about protection for a night in order to make the journey to freedom. The Lamb of God that John points to is about liberation for a lifetime. Jesus remains on the move, speaking to us and asking, "What are you looking for?"

If we indeed want to follow where he goes, if we indeed want to be like Jesus, then when he says, “Come and see”- like Andrew and Peter before us, we go. The blood is on the doorpost. The way is open. The new thing has already begun.

Amen

 

 

What Does Conversion Look Like?

In Damascus there was a certain disciple named Ananias. The Lord spoke to him in a vision, “Ananias!”He answered, “Yes, Lord.”The Lord instructed him, “Go to Judas’ house on Straight Street and ask for a man from Tarsus named Saul. He is praying. In a vision he has seen a man named Ananias enter and put his hands on him to restore his sight.”Ananias countered, “Lord, I have heard many reports about this man. People say he has done horrible things to your holy people in Jerusalem.  He’s here with authority from the chief priests to arrest everyone who calls on your name.”The Lord replied, “Go! This man is the agent I have chosen to carry my name before Gentiles, kings, and Israelites.  I will show him how much he must suffer for the sake of my name.”Ananias went to the house. He placed his hands on Saul and said, “Brother Saul, the Lord sent me—Jesus, who appeared to you on the way as you were coming here. He sent me so that you could see again and be filled with the Holy Spirit.” Instantly, flakes fell from Saul’s eyes and he could see again. He got up and was baptized. After eating, he regained his strength.He stayed with the disciples in Damascus for several days. - Acts 9:10-19 (Common English Bible) 

If your experience of Christianity is anything like mine, then you have likely been taught to think about Saul/Paul as the follower of Jesus with the ultimate conversion story. Even if you've been led to understand that he remained Jewish (in ethnic practices), his faith in Christ and Christ's salvific purposes gave his life a very specific direction following Saul's experience on the road to Damascus (Acts 9). 

I've always accepted this. Over the years, I've thought about this story to discuss the significance of other vocations, since Paul wasn't making his own clothes or planting and tending crops. While he matters for the spread of the gospel, the work of other believers' daily lives also made that evangelism possible. 

Lately, however, I have been rethinking that story. Is Saul's change of heart really the greatest change in Acts 9? Is the Road to Damascus experience really the conversions experience to which all new Christians (or all Christians period) are meant to aspire? 

As I look at the chapter afresh, I am struck by what is required of Ananias. He believes in Jesus, but now Jesus asks him to welcome a man into his home. This man was known to Ananais to be a threat to his family, his friends, and himself. This man has harmed or witnessed the killing of people whom Ananais knew, maybe loved. Prior to Jesus' request, at best Ananais would have crossed to the other side of the market if he saw Saul, if not actually hide away until Saul left town. 

Now, Jesus is expecting something of Ananais for Saul. Ananias does not want to do it. He would like to say no. He tries to explain to Jesus what's happening. Jesus doesn't change his tune. 

So Ananias must experience his own conversion, his own continued growth in faith, a further step in sanctification, a greater yielding to the Holy Spirit. He must prepare to welcome Saul into his home and he's going to have to tell other people that he's doing it. 

It's not like he's going to be able to keep Saul a secret. It seems likely that Ananias has some kind of household. How will they respond to his revelation: "Jesus told me we need to bring that guy we were all just panicking about into the house." 

If conversion represents a change of heart, a change of behavior, a change of attitude, an application of ethics in the midst of stress and strain, then Ananias is the conversion story we should have been paying attention to all along. 

Most Christians, especially life-long Christians, have very little to do with Saul of Tarsus, but we have a lot in common with Ananias. Instead of assuming or expecting a road to Damascus experience, we are called to be on the look out for a stranger in Damascus experience. And we are meant to be the ones to welcome that stranger for Christ's own sake. 

We are meant to open our homes to someone whose life experience is not like ours. 

We are meant to show hospitality to someone whose history is frightening to us. 

We are meant to welcome the one who differs from us greatly and yet whom Christ loves and for whom Christ died. 

I am not saying that we are meant to knowingly endanger ourselves or our families, but we are meant to take some risks for the sake of the gospel. We are meant to be open to people are different. We are meant to have conversion experiences in our life, again and again. These experiences are the ones in which Jesus speaks to us, moves us, compels us to do the thing that surprises us and yet is absolutely necessary for the sake of the world. 

It's what Ananias did. It's his conversion story from which we are meant to learn how to be followers of the Way of Christ. 

To adapt the verse of There is a Balm in Gilead, "If you cannot preach like Peter, if you cannot pray like Paul... Like Ananias, you can show grace to all." 

Noah and Developing Faith

This is the first in a six-part sermon series in the stages of faith. The stages of faith have a

couple components. James W. Fowler mostly famously wrote about stages of faith, but others have contributed to the body of knowledge. They came about as a result of psychologists and sociologists, with theologians, coming to understand that our faith does not remain the same through our entire life. In the past 150 years, we have come to understand, scientifically and otherwise, that the way children and adults grow and change has an impact on how they think, on their emotions, and how they react to the world. Everyone understands that they currently are not the way they were when they were four.

However, for a long time, faith was treated kind of like the multiplication tables- separate and apart from any kind of higher math. Simply memorize a basic set of facts and one knows all that is needed to be faithful. Faith or spiritual development, though, is just like our physical, emotional, psychological, or physiological development. It continues to grow and to be affected by the things that happen to us and happen around us.

     It is important to realize that we cannot separate faith and life without denying one or the other. If we say that what happens in our life has no impact on our faith, we are saying one of the two is not as important as the other. When you have a belief in something beyond yourself- for most of us here, that’s God, revealed through Jesus- that belief affects every aspect of your life. It could be through the effort to keep them from interacting or through the reality of how you see them interacting.

     When an adult becomes angry or frustrated, we are able to recognize if they are acting like a young child. We recognize that it is a problem if they continue in that behavior, but we are also sympathetic to moments of behavior reversion. What becomes problematic, with regard to the stages of faith, is that we have so individualized faith and the experience of faithful living. As a society, we have set up ways of being faithful such that where you are different from me in faith practice and experience, you must be wrong.

     Regrettably, faith leaders, including myself, speak about God, about Jesus, about the written Word so definitively, that if one doesn’t see eye to eye with the presenter or has a different perspective- the one who is in disagreement with the leader is treated as incorrect and sometimes pushed out of the community. The reality of stages of faith, just like other stages of development, means that we can be at different stages at different times. Someone who is our age peer may be in a different stage than we are.

     Part of advancing and maturing in faith is coming to understand how one’s own faith is the product of a wide variety of experiences and learning and the work of God. That same work of God, however, is happening in other people who have very different experience and different exposure to information. What I want us to consider is that Lent [the liturgical season] is six weeks. It is not a journey; it’s a trip with a set purpose. We start at Transfiguration and we end at the resurrection. That is the trip of Lent. The life of faith, however, is a journey. We may make the trip of Lent many times in the journey. Like a movement is only part of a symphony, Lent is a section of the music of the whole life of faith.

    Let’s move into Stage One faith. James Fowler suggested that there is a Stage Zero, which is birth to age 2. What happens to a child in Stage Zero can have an effect on how that child later thinks about God. Those thoughts can be rooted in how good, bad, or indifferent the care is that one receives in this stage. One’s experience of love and those who are caregiving as warm, nurturing, accessible, forgiving, and apologizing for mistakes or withdrawn, withholding, and frustrated or neglectful… these make a foundation for how someone comes to think of God. Stage Zero also builds the foundation for the experiences of Stage One.

     The Intuitive-Projective stage is from ages 3-7. People in ages 3-7 draw conclusions based on information at hand and then apply those conclusions to themselves using their imagination. So they look around, they consider what they hear about good and evil, what they see, how others talk, and then they apply that information to themselves. This is a very self-focused stage and very literally-minded.

     For example, consider a crown. A crown is a recognizable symbol of power. The people who wear a crown get impressive titles and are able to control what other people do. If I am five years old and I have a crown, I am a princess (or a queen). I am a princess because I have a crown. As a five-year-old, I understand what a crown is symbolically and I am applying its symbolism to myself literally.

     From a more theological perspective, Stage One is characterized by a

- sense of awe (wonder in learning, seeing connections, and intuiting connections)

- sense of need (awareness of wants or things necessary for well-being and that there are people who can be counted on to provide them)

- awareness of nature (Many of us may associate this with the experience of being outdoors, relaxed, and deeply aware of something beyond ourselves. This feeling goes beyond the awareness to the understanding that we neither produced the feeling nor the experience ourselves.)

- perceiving greater meaning in life (By the end of Stage One, you are aware that there are things (people, places, situations) that you are not and cannot control.)

- a sense of innocence

    

    In Stage One, a person may also have the first experience of God in one’s life- either by experiencing God or by becoming aware of a need for God.

     To make this clearer, and to actually connect it to Jesus, let’s talk about the story of Noah and the flood. How do we talk about the flood to children? (I personally have no idea why we decorate nurseries and playrooms in symbols and scenes from a divinely- caused genocide.)

     We usually start with the animals, entering the ark two by two. We don’t usually go so far as to say that God was, through Noah, saving the animals from the rain that God was sending. The two giraffes, the two elephants, the two lions, the two mice- all make a nice picture entering the ark together, the original peaceable kingdom in children’s Bibles. (We never discuss what the lions eat, how the ark smelled, the frustrations.)

    How do we talk about the rainbow to children? It’s a promise- God’s promise to not cause that kind of destruction again. Does God call it a rainbow? No, God calls it a bow. We also teach children that the people were making bad choices or at least everyone but Noah and his family. God looked around and was displeased with what had happened. God decided to start again from scratch, except for keeping Noah as his human sourdough starter. We also talk with children about the dove returning with the olive branch, which makes its own nice picture.

    Since the Noah story doesn’t appear in the Revised Common Lectionary, we don’t often discuss the story of the flood, along with its before and after scenes, as adults. Rare are the word studies, lectio divinas, and multipart Bible reflections on Noah and his saga.

Reactions from adults:

- the whole story seems like a lot of work (to build a boat, to start again from scratch, to be in the ark with the family and the animals)

- Noah lived a very long time

- God reuses the canvas- painting over it again

- The celebration afterward by Noah and the way his children reacted

     I think about God’s commitment to non-violence, or at least a specific kind of non-violence, at the end of the story. If I want to shoot a bow and arrow, as a right-handed person, I hold the curve of the bow in my left hand and draw the string back with my right. The curve of the bow is pointing away from me, aimed in the direction in which I want to shoot.

     So if the curved part of the bow points in the direction one wishes to shoot, when God hangs up the Divine bow- it is pointing away from creation. God puts the bow to rest in a peaceful position, aimed away from the world we know and what we understand God to have so loved. The bow at rest also is not in the sky as a reminder to us, but as a reminder to God. It indicates that God may once again feel that this was a bad plan, that it might be better to start over, that our human failure to uphold covenant isn’t worth the Divine energy. This story, however, tells us that God has created a non-violent image as a reminder to God’s own self, a holy Post-It note about commitment to a different way of being in relationship and upholding covenant.

    We teach this story in one way to children and that way of understanding the narrative is appealing. It is, however, generally unsatisfactory to us as adults, given our reactions to, thoughts about, and feelings toward the same story through our life experiences. For a comparison from a different field, it is a like a Twinkie compared to black forest cake. A Twinkie is satisfactory if one has a sweet tooth or if rich, dark chocolate is too much for a person's taste buds- usually the case for kids. Many, if not most, adults, however, will choose the complexity of the black forest cake over a Twinkie as a dessert. It’s not as sweet, but a little of it is more satisfying to a palate that has had more exposure to different tastes and textures.

   (Of course, there are times when we may want a Twinkie as an edible symbol of a simpler time in our life. Similarly, we may occasionally return to an earlier stage of faith exploration to find stability and hope in a difficult time.)

When we are at a stage of faith wherein we trust that

- God provided safety for animals

- God made a way out for people

- God made a covenant, with the bow as a sign, against destroying all life by flood…

we are in a place of safety and security in our faith and our relationship with God.

     Regrettably, we are not able to remain in the place of security. If we remain, faithfully, where we are as children, it affects our stewardship, our evangelism, and our other ways of being in the church and being church in the world- our ways of imitating Christ. On the one hand, our approach to anything of these things as children are sometimes more open. On the other, the world needs to be met by adults who have grown in faith, moving further along into ways of trust in God that are less rooted in certainty and more grounded in trust amid mystery.

    This affects our stewardship by changing our understanding of Who contains and provides all things. It alters our evangelism as our story becomes deeper and broader in our more mature contemplation of who God is and what God’s grace has done for all people and us. Our faith is made more complex and useful to God by being layered with what we have wrestled with and the blessings with which we have limped away from our dark nights of the soul.

     As we consider what it means to imitate Christ, the Holy Spirit will not let us believe that it is enough just to do what Jesus would have done. Instead, true imitation of Christ is rooted in being open to whatever God wants to do in our lives, just as Jesus was open to what the Holy Parent wished to do in his.

    Moving out of Stage One faith means moving out the stage where what I understand about God and faith is all related to me. We move from childish (different than childlike) faith to a new stage. Moving into a new stage gives a fuller understanding, not just of Divine mystery, but of the grace of God, which we have not earned and cannot do so. Instead, God pours it out freely. When we are in a world where there are school shootings, addictions, grief, theft, struggles for power that don’t actually seem rooted in positive change, it is very important to have our faith at an adult level, not to remain at a childish view of trust and faithful action.

    Such an adult view might reflect on: What does it mean to worship a God who has hung up the Divine bow? What does it meant to imitate Jesus by being open to whatever a non-violent God is going to do, direct, or demonstrate in my life and to know that holy grace will be sufficient for whichever of my needs arise in that situation? What does it mean to know that at one point the Divine frustration level was so high that it seemed preferable to start again? What does it mean that God has regrets?

     We can separate life and faith without disregarding one or the other and the Holy Spirit will not release us into that negation. This is why being in community matters. Most of us can only handle do this work, maturing in faith, a little bit at a time and in a place where we feel safe, where we know questions are acceptable, and we also know that it is okay not to have all the answers.

     We move into more mature faith as we come to trust that God is enough. Enough in our grief, enough in our frustration, enough to meet our efforts, and enough when we need to pause for a time and simply remember animals being saved, two by two.

     There is a world beyond the doors of Lutheran Church of Hope that needs people who are imitating Christ to show up. And when they show up, they must be prepared to be open to how the Spirit is going to use them, in their adult faith, to grow, to stretch, to heal, to protest, and to making clear that God’s commitment to non-violence extends beyond the story of Noah into the creation today that God so loves.

     Most of us have left Stage One faith. We can revisit it in times of need, but we don’t get to stay there. We don’t get to stay there, not because it isn’t sufficient, but because the restlessness of the world and the irresistibility of the Spirit’s call will not let us stay there. And God’s grace goes with us into the world that is watching for us to imitate Christ.

Amen.

Litany for Jeremiah 1:4-10

I was doing other writing around Jeremiah 1:4-10 today and I wrote this litany to accompany it.

I can't stop thinking about what the words are and their implications. It's actually unsettling.

Jeremiah 1:4-10

1:4 Now the word of the Lord came to me saying, 5 "Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you; I appointed you a prophet to the nations." 6 Then I said, "Ah, Lord God! Truly I do not know how to speak, for I am only a boy." 7 But the Lord said to me, "Do not say, "I am only a boy'; for you shall go to all to whom I send you, and you shall speak whatever I command you. 8 Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you to deliver you, says the Lord." 9 Then the Lord put out his hand and touched my mouth; and the Lord said to me, "Now I have put my words in your mouth. 10 See, today I appoint you over nations and over kingdoms, to pluck up and to pull down, to destroy and to overthrow, to build and to plant." 

Litany:

In God’s creation, both young and old are called to witness to truth.

God uses all people in their time.

In God’s creation, all kinds of men and women are equally valuable.

God uses all people in their time.

In God’s creation, no one is too slow or unlearned.

God uses all people in their time.

In God’s creation, no person is without skill, talent, or ideas.

God uses all people in their time.

As with Jeremiah, God rejects all objections.

God uses all people in their time.

God's Servants Are Never Retired

1 Samuel 3:1-21

            Since Samuel is a child when God calls him and his work as a prophet begins immediately, this story usually focuses on that fact alone. We use that information to underline the fact that God calls and works through all kinds of people- regardless of age, experience, or even knowledge of the Lord (see: “Samuel did not yet know the Lord”). Many of us have heard this part of the story lifted up so many times; we begin to miss the other details in the story.

            Pretend you never heard this story before. This is entirely fresh to you- as an adult. You have not been hearing about Samuel for 20, 30, 40, 70 years. Instead, you’re hearing this for the first time.

What might stand out to you?

-       Eli knows who is talking to Samuel.

-       Eli is punished for his sons’ misdeeds (or for ignoring them).

-       Eli’s call is undone so that Samuel can be called.

-       Samuel’s first experience as a prophet is to retire his predecessor.

How is God’s character portrayed in this story? Is this a God you want to serve? A God who calls and speaks through children, that sounds hopeful and promising. A God who withdraws favor without warning… less hopeful. If this were the first Bible story you ever heard as an adult, what would you think about God?

            It’s important to remember that 1 and 2 Samuel and 1 and 2 Kings are written down for the preservation of the life and lineage of David. Everyone else is a footnote in that story. The recorders are not interested in what happened to Samuel, Saul, Eli, or anyone else beyond their role in the story of David.            

Eli is a temple priest in the time of the Judges. The book of Judges closes with the acknowledgment that there was no king in Israel, so everyone did what was right in their own eyes. Part of this statement is technically untrue. There was always a king in Israel. Who was the king? God. With God as a king, the leaders of the people were ones who pointed to God and to God’s expectations. This would have been Eli’s call and work. At some point, he wasn’t able to do that work. He apparently fell short in training his sons correctly or in sufficiently correcting them when they “did what was right in their own eyes”.  

            This passage opens with the note that the “word of the Lord was rare in those days”. Does that mean that the Lord wasn’t speaking or that people weren’t listening? I know for a fact that I can tell my son to four or five times to put on his shoes before it finally happens. Is the word of his mother rare, unheard, or unheeded (or some combination thereof)? So Eli has given his life to the service of God. Maybe that service interfered with his ability to be a good parent. Nevertheless, Eli is released from service, which has the distinct look of falling out of favor with God.

            We’ve already discussed how God comes across in this story (uncaring, cold, capricious). Is that your experience of God? Is that the scope of God’s character as revealed elsewhere in Scripture? If you think about the Bible as a whole, how does God come across?

            Part of reading this story is pulling away from its narrow understanding of vocation. When we do that in the story, we also have to do it in our daily lives. We have a tendency to judge our own worth and the value of those around us based on the work they do for pay or on the “success” of their relationships. Paid work has more value than unpaid work. Parenthood has more value than being an uncle or an aunt. Being a widow or widower has a higher perceived rating than being divorced. The CEO has more value than the kindergarten teacher who has more value than the garbage collector.

            Our culture has a ranking system based on perceived contributions to society and status therein. We study people for how they fit into the categories we’ve been taught. Occasionally, we’re able to move things around, when a child receives a clear call from God- for example, but otherwise, we keep things the same. Furthermore, as society works to uphold that framework, God’s favor is subtly (or not) attached to the status of higher value. Surely a better position, family success, material wealth… etc. are all signs of God’s favor. And which comes first- God’s favor, then success? Or success, and then God’s favor?

            When the writers of 1 Samuel begin to write for the main purpose of recording the life of David, it seemed obvious to them that Eli had lost God’s favor. How could God call Samuel, if God doesn’t first “uncall” Eli? And once Eli is no longer the chief priest, who cares what happens to him?

            Except that his priesthood is not the only way God could use him. It may well not be the only way God did use him. Eli is still a father, perhaps still a husband, a father-in-law, maybe a grandfather, a neighbor, a Jew, a child of God. While he might no longer have paid work, he is not outside of God’s plans or God’s ability to use him.

            So we too have multiple vocations… paid worker, volunteer, spouse or partner, sibling, child, parent, friend, neighbor, citizen, library card holder, sandwich maker,… etc. The end of any one of these roles does not indicate a withdrawal of God’s favor. It does not signify the end of that relationship. It does not put you or me or Eli or anyone else beyond the ability of God to use or to bring about God’s kingdom through us.

            When Peter and Andrew stopped fishing, they started following Jesus. They became disciples. However, they were still husbands, children, friends, and Jews. They still had other defining characteristics. Each of those vocations was now shaped by following Jesus. Their other relationships changed, didn’t end, but were changed by their new understanding of what it meant to be a child of God.

            That same meaning is part of our lives. All that we do is shaped by what it means to be a child of God- as we have seen God revealed in Jesus. When we hear the Scriptures, we are called to always listen with new ears. Each of us is also a Bible interpreter- not for ourselves or to make things easier, but for the sake of the people around us and for God’s sake.

            Despite how the story is recorded, God wasn’t done with Eli. Neither is God done with any of us when one chapter ends and another begins. God’s favor is not revealed through success or failure, but through grace and the ever-present promise of renewal and abundant life. That’s good news that we are to take to heart. And, more specifically, that’s the good news we are to take into the world.

Amen. 

Audio here: 

morning-8

Blessed is the One (Sermon)

Palm Sunday/ Feast Day of Oscar Romero

Luke 19:29-44

            So what does an assassinated Roman Catholic Archbishop have to do with Palm Sunday? It’s a good question. At the start of Holy Week, we are in a position for deep and serious reflection. On the one hand, we can enter this week with a misplaced sense of re-enactment- the idea that we are re-living the events of a certain week almost two thousand years ago.

            Sometimes the re-enactment is what we need. To re-imagine the sights, sounds, and smells. To place ourselves in Jerusalem and feel the strain of oppressed people. Sometimes that memory is what we need.

            However, there is another way to consider this week. It functions like a compass for our faith. The events of this week are our true North- they give us a sense of direction, a re-orientation to the landmarks of our faith. They put us on the right path.

            That is where our focus should be, even in the midst of re-imagining and re-enacting. Palms in our hands, we are poised to be re-acquainted with the direction of our faith and its purpose. The events that are coming are not meant to overwhelm us with sadness or even a sense of unworthiness. The events of this week are meant to overwhelm us with the way that light overcomes darkness, that life overcomes death, that the forces that oppose God do not win the battle or the war.

            When Oscar Romero became archbishop, he was appointed to that position, in part, because it was believed that his conservatism would keep him from siding with the poor who were rising up against the government. Both sides of this fight believed that he would not be involved. However, he watched a close friend get killed (shot) for trying to help the poor farmers and laborers, to end their oppression. Romero then realized that he could not remain silent. His understanding of Jesus meant that he had to speak out. He even worked to get his sermons on the radio for all to hear, sermons which frequently sided with the oppressed and called for the soldiers to end the killing of their brothers and sisters.

            Archbishop Romero spoke frequently that he knew he would eventually be killed, but he could not abandon the work to which God had called him, work of siding with the poor of El Salvador, work of giving voice to the voiceless. This is the work for which he was killed.

            That may not be the call for all of us, but each of do have a call- a call to carry the message of Jesus into the world And it is likely not something that makes us comfortable. It may not be as easy as we would hope. Nevertheless, our call into gospel living is clear… loving our neighbor, forgiving seventy times and then some, showing mercy to our enemies, working to end injustice against the poor and the disadvantaged, championing the cause of peace, and sharing what we have with all those around us.

            It’s tough work and it can be awkward, but that is why we are here- in Holy Week- pointed toward the events of feasting, betrayal, crucifixion, and resurrection.. We do not journey through this week to come out on the other side, relieved. We are on this trek of re-orientation so that we can be re-energized, knowing that we have been made right with God… and daring to go into the world proclaiming that death does not win.

            The call of today is not only the cry of “Hosanna”. It is also, “Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.” That one is the one who carries the God’s light into the world. On that first journey, it was a colt carried Jesus, the light of the world. The disciples were told to find the colt and to say, “The Lord has need of it.” As we look now for a way to carry light into the world, I say, “The Lord has need of you.”

            The Lord has need of you… to proclaim the significance of this week… to get ready for Easter joy… to live into a faith in resurrection… to trust in God’s presence as you live courageously into your calling. In our Wednesday night soup suppers, we have been talking about what it means to be church and what the future of this church is.

            The church is a place where we learn, together, how to live and how to die in Christ. That is the reason we exist. We learn and we live out what it means to be alive in Christ… now and forever. And this week, starting today… this week is our study week, our brush-up week, our re-focusing… because the other 51 weeks of the year are our exam.

            We are poised now, palms in hand, to revisit the journey to the cross and then to the empty tomb. We are resetting our faith compass and we are preparing for the work to which we are called. In the words of Oscar Romero, ““If we are worth anything, it is not because we have more money or more talent, or more human qualities. Insofar as we are worth anything, it is because we are grafted on to Christ's life, his cross and resurrection. That is a person's measure.”

            This is the grace we have received. And it’s not for nothing. It is so that we can carry Christ into the world. The Lord has need of you.

            Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna.

Amen.