Unthinkable, But Required

I am a pastor of a small church- a church full of people whom I love and whom I greatly trust that God loves. On Sunday mornings, there may be any number of children and older people, this includes my own children and some of their best friends. 

I have spent a lot of time thinking about what I would do if someone came in and began shooting.

I've analyzed what I could throw, how quickly I could get to any part of the sanctuary, and how much time I could buy for others by engaging with a shooter- hoping that my death through that engagement would buy others time to attack unseen, hide children, or escape. 

I move my cell phone around in the sanctuary- to be within my arm's reach- so that my last act prior to engagement would be to call 911. I worry about if I don't have time to do this and I may not, but it's part of my mental plan. 

I am a gun owner. I'm an okay shot, better than okay at close range. My husband has asked me, on more than one occasion, to keep a gun with me at church. 

Where? 

In the pulpit next to the Bible? 

In my pocket?

In a shoulder holster, under my diaphanous robe? 

In my purse, carrying said purse with me everywhere like Queen Elizabeth? 

I can't bear this. I cannot bear the thought yielding to my fears. There is making a plan and then there is introducing another problem into the situation. 

My need to have this plan and think these thoughts is not because God "isn't allowed in schools" or because of the use of psychological drugs or even because we have culturally determined that child sacrifice is preferable to some restrictions on gun ownership. 

The need to have this plan is because we have chosen as a culture to make guns our idol of choice. Believing their false promises of safety and self-determination, we have put them on a pedestal and worship them at the altar of unrestricted access and personal freedom. Our call to community living as a nation, cities, and smaller groups has been sublimated to believing that we are entitled to having what we want, when we want it and to extracting revenge and never dwelling for long in feelings of discomfort or pain. 

This is the direct result of patriarchy, white supremacy, and rape culture.

Let me be VERY CLEAR that I am not saying that everyone who owns guns rapes or is a white supremacist. 

I am, however, saying that we (almost all of us) have contributed to a culture where many people, especially white, cis-gendered, heterosexual men, have been socialized to an unhealthy level of entitlement regarding other people's bodies, property, and opportunities. And, through our gun idolatry, they see a cultural worship of tools that allow them to respond with deadly force when they do not get what they have been taught and believe they "deserve". 

This is a complex issue, but it isn't actually that complicated and it's not impossible to improve. 

But we have to want to. All of us have to want to. 

And until that happens, I will be preaching with a phone nearby, thinking about how far I can throw the large rock that sits on the altar, and praying that most of the congregation will be saved, even if I am not. 

How's that for your thoughts and prayers?

Whole Lotta Shakin'

In Matthew’s Easter account opens with two women approaching the tomb and an earthquake. (The two events are only related because of Jesus, not the former causing the latter.) The women are there to witness if Jesus walks out of the tomb, but he doesn’t. The stone is moved and he is simply gone. There is an angel sitting there, matter-of-factly, to tell them that he has been raised and gone to Galilee, just like he said he would.

We do not get a reaction of the women to the earthquake or to the rolling away of the stone. Unlike in the other gospel accounts, we don’t even know why the women are going to the tomb this morning. They simply are. Of course, it is possible women were no longer able to be surprised, given the events of the past three days and the fact that Matthew inserts several earthquakes into his version of Jesus’ death and resurrection. Both seio (the Greek word for shaking and quivering) and seismos (the Greek word for earthquake or commotion) are used liberally in Matthew’s account of Jesus’ last days.

All of this quivering and quaking indicates that something deep is happening. This crucifixion, the betrayals, the death, and the attempt to prevent anything unusual from happening to the body cannot seem to occur without provoking a seismic reaction in heaven and earth. Everything is shaken and stirred.

What should we make of all this movement? Is this an attempt to give geologic proof to the story of the resurrection? It is not. Matthew wants to counteract despair*. When Matthew is writing, nearly forty years after the events of the day in question, the Temple has been destroyed by Rome. The followers of the Way of Christ are beginning to experience serious struggles. The Pax Romana, or Roman Peace, was only peaceful in that you could be left alone as long as you appeared to be cooperative in every way possible with the political leaders at all levels- keeping your head down, your taxes paid, and your mouth shut. There were wars or rumors of wars or quickly silenced insurrections with rebel factions disappearing into the deserts to try to live quiet lives of worship and devotion, which is an ironic way to rebel.

This kind of living leads to despair- the expectation of every day being exactly the same as the day before and the complete lack of expectation that anything can or will change. Doubt is not the same as despair because doubt is logic combined with hope. Doubt looks at the facts, but believes in a larger truth. Despair believes hope is lost.

The Christians in the time of Matthew had begun to despair. Thus, his resurrection account is written to remind them that their core story is an earth-shaking, ground-splitting, stone-moving, Rome-silencing event. The resurrection truth, their source of their life in community, is one that is designed to crush despair and feed the flame of hope.

This is a resurrection account in which Jesus is not where you think he will be, does not appear first to whom you think he will appear, and does not go to the place you expect him to go. (Galilee of the Gentiles isn’t exactly the expected appearance location for a risen Messiah.) In the face of all of that, despair cannot flourish. It is shaken off its foundations. Despair needs suffering, oppression, and routine (the unholy trinity).

Which brings the story to us.  We also live in a time of some leaders who act without thinking, think without studying, and study only those who agree with their worldview. We also know a world of competing military powers and oppression of the poor and marginalized communities. We know the exhaustion of attempting to alleviate pain, which feeling frustrated in the momentum to create real change.

Nevertheless, we are the same community who needed to hear Matthew’s words. We are also people who need to remember that resurrection is a seismic event. It shakes up everything. We are embraced by a love and truth that will not let death have the final word. That reality changes everything. Resurrection is an event of forgiveness, an event of God’s on-going revelation of divine mercy, the power of the Spirit continuing to create and transform. The earth cannot keep still under the power of that kind of love. It might not be geologically correct to say that God’s response of love to human violence shakes the earth to its core, but it is theologically true.

Therefore, we do not despair. We keep the faith. It is not a faith that comes from seeing or even hearing. It is a faith that comes from God- God’s welcome, God’s inclusion, God’s hope, and God’s refusal to let the creation remain unshaken. God’s love is the same, day after day, year after year, eon after eon. That love is vast, however, that it contains truths that are beyond our comprehension- that death is not an end, that forgiveness happens, that all means all, that eternal love is exactly what it sounds like. The vastness of the Divine Self encompasses all for which we dare to hope, in the light of which- despair shrivels.

And then we crush it completely- with voices that quake with joy and trust, “He is risen. Alleluia.”

He is risen, indeed.

Amen.

*This concept of despair is something I have adapted from a definition by Pastor Rob Bell. 

Star Words and Approachability

In 2015, after several years of meaning to do this, I copied my friend Marci Glass and did Star words with the congregation I serve, Lutheran Church of Hope. Marci has written about this practice on her blog in several posts. I recommend scrolling down and reading this first posts and then you can pick and choose (or read them all). 

I used the PDF of words she had created and shared generously with other RevGalBlogPals via our (closed) Facebook page. LCOH's diligent administrative assistant and I cut out 300+ stars last year. We also made a separate set of stars for kids from the fruits of the Spirit (love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control). While I'm not saying that adults shouldn't also choose from that list, it was easier to have a more condensed and more easily interpreted set of words for our younger members. An adult can wrestle with approachability. A six-year-old, not so much. 

This year, on 1/8/17, we will choose words again. Because I don't like to feel wasteful, we are not choosing from a complete set. We are choosing from the 260+ words that are left over, which also means that there are no repeats from last year. 

You can read from my January 2017 newsletter article below on my own thoughts about my 2016 word. 

____________________________________

Last year on Epiphany, we drew out Star Words as a congregation. Reaching into a bowl of more than 300 possibilities, we pulled out words like “fun”, “encouraging”, “solemn”, “inviting”, “tactful”, and many others. Some people may not have thought about their word again since that Sunday. Others have worked it into their lives or paid attention to where it showed up. A congregation member recently encouraged people to tell the story of their word.

I got the word “approachable”. This word gave me pause in many ways. I try to be as accessible as possible, but I frequently hear that people don’t find me approachable. Strangers feel okay asking me questions or seeking my help, so then I am surprised when I find out that church people do not. One congregation member told me that I am very approachable if a person needs help, but it is harder to approach me as a person who wants to help me.

In my time in Poland, I spent 11 days looking for people who were approachable to help me with directions, transportation, and translation. Standing on a sidewalk in the middle of a place where you know no one and no one knows you can be very scary. I think about this experience a lot when I think of refugees or immigrants who may have very little knowledge of where they are or how things work. How approachable do I seem when I am out and about?

On January 8, we will draw new stars, new words, for 2017. Does this mean I can quit thinking about approachability? We had enough stars last year to go again from the same pile. So the words that were taken are gone. We all get a fresh start. How should we approach this exercise?

When I drew stars for people who wanted them, but were not at church, I prayed for them before reaching into the bowl. Is there a way to be open to this experience and to a year of the Spirit’s work in clear and mysterious ways? Even if you’ve long tossed out your star, think back on your word and on your year. What did you learn? What would you like to learn? How approachable are you to the Holy Spirit’s work and power?

If you are interested in a word of your own, please comment below or email me at lcohpastor@alaska.net. Next week, I will pray for people by name before I draw a word specifically for them. The words are all face down in an opaque bowl. I can't see anything about any star when I reach in and draw. 

Decolonize16: First Debrief

As soon as the #decolonizeLutheranism hashtag began to be used on Facebook and Twitter, I was in and involved. It was like jumping into a river and realizing that I could swim better than I thought I

Candle station for prayer at conference

could. The impetus behind the movement is to separate North American Lutheranism from being considered interchangeable with Mid-Western, primarily imported Scandinavian, culture and cuisine. By "decolonizing" or separating Lutheranism from that context, the people in and behind (and ahead of) the movement hope to release and refine our theological and biblical commitments toward inclusion, welcome, understanding, and embracing the height and depth and breadth of the love of God in the world.

The initial conference of this movement was on 10/23/16 at the Lutheran School of Theology in Chicago. It's a long way to for an Alaskan, but I couldn't stay away. Once some of my friends knew I was coming, they signed up too. Thus, I had reunions, reconnections, and reformation (of the current church) all in a day. What a day.

The framework of the conference was sections of the Augsburg Confession pared with seasons of the church year. We heard small sermons or sharing and then had small groups to talk about our reactions and our thoughts. I'm still thinking about so many things, but here's my first thought:

Nice is the law and honesty is the gospel. 

Lutherans have a very specific way of thinking about the words "law" and "gospel". The law is anything, anywhere in Scripture (or in the world), that reminds and makes us glaringly aware of our need for God, God's work in Christ, and the aid of the Spirit. The gospel is the glad tidings anywhere in Scripture (or in the world) of how God is already aware of our need and is ahead of us, behind us, and within us- bringing us into the reality of our salvation through grace and the on-going truth of our sanctification.

In my small group, we talked about how people we know (including ourselves) resist the hard work of combatting racism, sexism, anti-LGBTQ behavior, and cultural appropriation without appreciation.   One person in the group asked if we could figure out how to use the framework of law and gospel as part of this work. I thought of my own work around "being honest, not good". I'm not a liar, but in general- my desire to be liked, efficient, and good means that I don't always own up to my own feelings, reactions, and perceptions.

In order to decolonize Lutheranism, we must stop the idolatry of "nice" and "good". We can no longer excuse that racist jokes are "just how so-an-so talks". We can't pretend it's okay to ask a queer couple if we could just not mention their wedding in the announcement or on the church calendar like we do for other couples. We can't ignore that there are women, people of color, and LGBTQ individuals who are gifted from God, but are ignored for call and service in this church and- if they get called- are held to a much higher and more scrutinized standard of behavior.

Nice and good behavior asks for there not to be so much fuss about this. Niceness says, "It's been that way for a long time and change is hard." Good behavior accepts being a token, being diminished, being ignored as part of what it means to be a child of God in a certain context.

No.

I said, NO.

No more.

No more "nice", No more "good".

When my therapist told me that I needed to work on "being honest and not good", I looked her in the eye and said "Honesty is not one of the fruits of the Spirit."

But are we really being kind without honesty? Does true generosity exist without honesty? Can we truly love without honesty?

In order to decolonize Lutheranism, we must begin a full-throated, full-bodied, and fully embodied embrace of honesty. We have to die to nice and good and be aware of how God is resurrecting us to honesty in Christ. We have to be willing to say what is obvious, what hurts, and what needs to be done. We have to be willing to sit with the pain of complicity, the reality of what we can and can't fix, and the emptiness of the seats of those who will refuse to do this work. We have to be willing to make changes and re-think how our work as congregations looks, sounds, and feels even before we believe it "applies" to anyone already there.

And we don't do it so that "others" will come. We do it so that we can be a church, the church, churches who are actively teaching and learning how to live and how to die in Jesus Christ. We do it because it is, honestly, the right thing to do.

Litany for Binding

This was written for a prayer service in Anchorage, Alaska in response to a significant rise in reported homicides and other personal crimes. It has a partner in the Litany for Loosing.

Holy God of all creation, we know that violent death and mindless destruction do not come from you. With the help of the Holy Spirit, we bind and reject these things.

They have no place here.

God of love and light, revenge and aggressive retribution are not tasks you have given to us at any time. With the help of the Holy Spirit, we bind and reject these things.

They have no place here.

God of peace and hope, glorifying violence and denigrating other humans violate every commandment you have given. With the help of the Holy Spirit, we bind and reject these things.

They have no place here.

God of consolation and mercy, desecration of creation and division between people are not possible in the true way of Christ Jesus. With the help of the Holy Spirit, we bind and reject these things.

They have no place here.

God of justice and peace, lawlessness and a breakdown of communities are in direct violation of how you have taught us to live. With the help of the Holy Spirit, we bind and reject these things.

They have no place here.

God of the living Word, slurs, insults, curses, and threats sow seeds of dissension that are not in your plan for us, this city, or any part of your beloved creation. With the help of the Holy Spirit, we bind and reject these things.

They have no place here.

Holy Lord, holy and mighty is your name. All glory, praise, and honor go to you. We trust and believe that your word is true. In binding and rejecting all that is not of you, we believe with our whole hearts that we are aligning ourselves with your will for healing, unity, peace, and reconciliation in Anchorage. We ask that you would continue in your powerful work and word and that we would be privileged to alongside you here in the City of Lights. We ask you all this in Jesus’ holy name… [and God’s children said]… Amen.

He Doesn't Have to Be Jesus

"Martin Luther King Jr NYWTS 4" by New York World-Telegram and the Sun staff photographer: Albertin, Walter, photographer. - Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division. New York World-Telegram and the Sun Newspaper Photograph Collection. http://hdl.loc.gov/loc.pnp/cph.3c22985. Licensed under Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons.

I'm familiar with a certain type of conversation around Martin Luther King, Jr. 

When he's being noted or praised, one or more people in the conversation will decide to mention that MLK, Jr cheated on his wife or plagiarized parts of this thesis or committed this kind of crime or that.

Keep in mind the conversation was never about whether we should add him to the Trinity or the Pantheon or what-have-you. Yet, in the conversation, there seems to be the need to shine a spotlight on MLK, Jr.'s flaws. 

It is also characteristic of this conversation to note "If he hadn't been martyred, he wouldn't be so beloved." 

I've heard all of these comments more that once, more than twice, more times that I can count. 

The truth is, though, he was killed. Martin Luther King, Jr was shot and killed because he advocated for equality of black Americans with white Americans and because he was part of a group that was no longer prepared to see the goal of justice pushed away until a "more convenient time". 

My first-grader came home this week and asked me if I knew about "King Junior". Once I figured out who he was talking about, I asked what he'd learned. He told me that once there was a time when kids with different skin colors could go to the same school. "King Junior" helped fix that so kids [like black kid in his class] could all go to the same school. I asked if he learned what happened to Martin Luther King, Jr. He said, "They shot him." 

They shot him. 

I did explain that Martin Luther King, Jr didn't exactly work with schools all the time. That he did a lot of work so that people with different skin colors would be allowed to choose who was in charge and who makes decisions...  what we do when we vote. Some people did not want to allow people with black and brown skin to vote. 

As I drove and talked, I wondered when I should explain that it is still that way. 

And I wonder how long it will be before someone adds to the "conversation" about MLK, Jr with my son. How long will be before someone feels compelled to mention the character flaws of the man alongside his work? Will this be the same person who is silent about Tamir Rice or Freddie Gray or believes the death of Michael Brown was justified or has no concerns about Sandra Bland? 

When I read "Letter from a Birmingham Jail", it is everything to me that Romans or Galatians was and is. I expect no more perfection from the author of those epistles than I do of the later letter, itself as much an epistle. 

Martin Luther King, Jr didn't have to be Jesus to be right. He didn't do everything perfectly, but he was still right. He didn't have to be a non-sinner to still be a saint. He didn't have to be Jesus carry a message of justice to the world. He didn't have to be Jesus to see God's affection for all people. He didn't have to be Jesus to dream of a time of unity and community. 

And he didn't have to be Jesus to be killed for being a threat to the status quo. 


There are times when I haven't replied in The Conversation. When the other words start and I have indigestion, but I don't say "Stop right there." I wish I had. I hope that I will. 

In the meantime, many people have a three-day weekend. Sales, vacations, rest, family time... Somewhere in there, let us remember the man who was one of the main voices of a movement that dared to dream of something different for the world, for America, for their communities, and even for the church. 

Dr. King wrote in the aforementioned letter: 

We must come to see that, as the federal courts have consistently affirmed, it is wrong to urge an individual to cease his efforts to gain his basic constitutional rights because the quest may precipitate violence. Society must protect the robbed and punish the robber. I had also hoped that the white moderate would reject the myth concerning time in relation to the struggle for freedom. I have just received a letter from a white brother in Texas. He writes: "All Christians know that the colored people will receive equal rights eventually, but it is possible that you are in too great a religious hurry. It has taken Christianity almost two thousand years to accomplish what it has. The teachings of Christ take time to come to earth." Such an attitude stems from a tragic misconception of time, from the strangely irrational notion that there is something in the very flow of time that will inevitably cure all ills. Actually, time itself is neutral; it can be used either destructively or constructively. More and more I feel that the people of ill will have used time much more effectively than have the people of good will. We will have to repent in this generation not merely for the hateful words and actions of the bad people but for the appalling silence of the good people. Human progress never rolls in on wheels of inevitability; it comes through the tireless efforts of men willing to be co workers with God, and without this hard work, time itself becomes an ally of the forces of social stagnation. We must use time creatively, in the knowledge that the time is always ripe to do right. Now is the time to make real the promise of democracy and transform our pending national elegy into a creative psalm of brotherhood. Now is the time to lift our national policy from the quicksand of racial injustice to the solid rock of human dignity.

A three-day weekend contemplating that will not be wasted. 

Lord's Prayer (For Kids)

God, our father in heaven, Your name is special. The whole world wants your good works. Let them happen here, just like they do in heaven. Give us today exactly what we need- not too much and not too little. Forgive us where we've messed up and Help us forgive the people who've hurt us- our bodies or our feelings. Remind us that you are always with us especially when we are afraid. The entire universe, all the power, and the most glory go to you, because you are the only God. Amen

The Sun Also Rises

About a month ago I went on a silent retreat to Christ in the Wilderness in western Illinois. I had a little hermitage to myself and I spent five days walking, praying, reading, thinking, and listening. One evening I hiked up hill (both ways) to the big, free-standing porch swing on a hill. This swing faced due west.

I positioned myself in the swing to watch the blazing orange sunset over the span of corn fields and hickory trees. I heard coyotes yip and yowl. I watched flocks birds swoop and then come to rest, facing the disappearing sun like me. I saw the bats come out and dive for their food.

As everything settled into evening humming, I decided to go back toward my hermitage. I climbed out of the swing and walked the path, back around to the east side of the hill. By the time I was ready to descend the hill toward the little chapel, I was facing due east. I could no longer see the sunset because the peak of the hill was between me and the view.

My new view was the rising deep violet of the coming night. It was easy to perceive myself as walking into the night. In fact, that's what I immediately thought. I am walking into the night.

Then I had an insight. I am not only walking into the night, but I am walking toward the dawn.

Walking into the night- into a darker space where the shapes and path are not as clearly defined-  also means heading toward dawn, a new day, and a new beginning.

Sitting down in the little chair at the top of that path, I looked down the hill and watched the night rise.

How often do we as people or as a church watch the sunset over and over and over, forgetting that we are called to turn toward a resurrection sunrise? We fear the dark- forgetting that the stars and the night are as much a part of God's creativity and creation as the sun and the day.

What does this look like?

- Wringing our hands over dwindling numbers without examine why they're happening
- Expecting the same thing over and over to get the same result it did years ago
- Telling the same stories of history over and over without celebrating the successes of the present or leaning into the dreams of the future


What does walking into the dark look like?

- It looks like the widow of Zarepheth feeding Elijah with some of the last of her food.
- It looks like the widow giving two mites to a system that exploited her, but that she also perceived to allow her access to God
- It looks like a centurion saying, "I believe, Lord, forgive my unbelief."
- It looks like 2-3 women walking with heavy hearts toward a tomb that will turn out to be empty.


If we watch sunsets over and over and over, without ever turning into the dawn, we should not be surprised when nothing ever changes. When we turn, when we yield to the Spirit's call, we find that we are not abandoning our history, our saints, our stories. Instead, they are also ahead of us, reminding of us of how God has provided before and the promises of provision for the future.

Turn around, step into a slightly dimmer light, and head toward the dawn- knowing God is with you every step of the way.

The Beginning of the Good News

Mark 1:1-8

           

            Where’s Mark’s joke? Or poem? Or news story? The author of this gospel doesn’t ease the reader into the text. BOOM, it starts. “The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ…” We don’t get an angel, shepherds, a dream, or even a longer description of the prophet, John the Baptizer. Instead, we are plucked right into the story.

            We know that Mark is the earliest written gospel that we have. We are talking about a story that existed in a similar written form to what we have in our hands, in our homes, in every hotel room, in our own language- a story marked just under two thousand years ago. Why doesn’t this gospel have the birth narrative or any of the larger details from Matthew or Luke? Why isn’t there a longer, more poetic entry like in John?

            Interestingly, Mark’s gospel originally ended very abruptly as well. What we consider the last chapter of the story had only 8 verses. It reads: When the sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices, so that they might go and anoint him. And very early on the first day of the week, when the sun had risen, they went to the tomb. They had been saying to one another, “Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb?” When they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had already been rolled back. As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man, dressed in a white robe, sitting on the right side; and they were alarmed. But he said to them, “Do not be alarmed; you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised; he is not here. Look, there is the place they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him, just as he told you.” So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.

            That’s a fairly abrupt conclusion to the story. Of course, something happened beyond that because the story squeaked out somehow. So imagine people noticing early Christians, early followers of the way. These would have been people dedicated to their community, perceiving some equality among different classes, castes, and races, dedicated to healing, sharing, and showing mercy. Their lives were different enough that they gained attention.

            “Why do you do this?” someone might have asked one of the disciples in the temple court. “Tell me about your group,” one woman might have urged another in the marketplace. “Speak to me about this Jesus,” one slave might have whispered to another one the way to the river.

            Most people begin a story with the most exciting part, the part that is the most incredulous. In the case of Jesus, that would be resurrection, right? After all, his teaching about righteousness and justice echoed the prophets in words that were already familiar, if not followed. His healings were miraculous, but there were other healers. Rising from the dead, people seeing angels and not dying, reports that he had appeared, in resurrected form,- this was the big news.

            So, the followers of Christ would likely share this part of the story, but you can imagine people who were skeptical, suspicious, or curious saying, “But who was he? How do you know he was different? Where did this all start?”

            So, they would go back- not to the miraculous birth story, which was a standard starting place, but to the spot where Jesus’ story diverged from the other prophets in history. From Elijah and John, from Moses and Amos, the story begins abruptly with the “beginning of the good news”- the quick entry into what makes Jesus different.

            We do not actually live in a time in which people are fundamentally different from when this gospel was written. People still think of the end of the story first- heaven, resurrection, reunion, future. Yet, the heart of the gospel, its immediacy, is not in what it can offer tomorrow or at the end of time as we know it. The good news of Jesus Christ has a beginning… it has already begun. If it has already begun, then it has a direct impact on the world today.

            The basic reality of what it means to be people of God, people who perceive the good news of Jesus Christ, is that we are carrying that message into the world. What does that mean in the plainest English possible? This a book written for people facing oppression, economic hardship, and religious division. They needed hope in the promise of God’s future actions and help in seeing the present effects of that promise.

People today need to hear, to see, to taste, to touch, to feel, to be welcomed by, to be told, to be whispered to, to read, to sing, to smell, to perceive in all kinds of ways that we who are children of God do not believe we are waiting in vain.

We may not be entirely sure what happens next. That’s okay.

We may not be fully clear on how to explain all the ins and outs of doctrines and church hierarchy. More power to us.

We definitely don’t know what God’s timeline for Christ’s return is. Can’t do anything about that.

We can, however, speak a word of truth in a time of dishonesty. We must point to God’s preference for the poor, the outcast, the rejected, the disheartened, the oppressed, and the neglected. We have to speak to the realities of injustice, racism, classism, constant warfare, and the valuing of things and power over the gifts of creation.

These are not ambiguous ideas. They are not too big to grasp. Each of you, at this very moment, has a scene, a story, a news clip, a bit in your mind that you have turned over and over. A thing that you have wondered if you should do something about. Is it your place to comment? Will someone else do it, if you don’t? If you wait long enough?

The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ… It’s not an actual sentence because it has no verb, no action word. The action is in you. The telling of the story, the living out of its implication, the slowly growing faith that the life of Christ is not about tomorrow, but about today. The action, the movement, the cycle of the story- beginning and end- are in you, through the Holy Spirit. 

Frankly, it is an abrupt beginning for us all- starting when we are splashed or soaked by our baptisms and then brought into a family that is supposed to walk with us on the same path. We go out and we come in to this place. We struggle. We wrestle. We wonder. Yet, we are never let go from the task of telling the story, of living its call, of trying to shape the world according to the truth of God revealed in Jesus.

The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ happens again and again and again. As much as you hear it, you should tell it. As much as you tell it, you should live it. As much as you live it, people will be drawn to it. As people are drawn, the world shifts. This is what it means to be Advent people, to believe that the promised return has present implications. We don’t need the birth narrative. Mark didn’t.

We simply must, and we can, embrace the sudden truth of God among us- the beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ- as the start of the story that changes us and changes the world.

Through Time and Space

Earlier this week, there was a blog prompt that involved writing to someone in 1864 and trying to explain modern life to them.

I thought of that today.

I received text messages this morning from a friend on the East Coast. (cell phones, Seward's Folly Alaska!)

This friend had met up with my sister, who had baked her a pie- in an electric oven. (electricity)

The friend drove my sister to work, so the latter skipped her morning Metro ride. (cars, subways)

I drove to work and checked emails. (cars, computer, internet)

I listened in via teleconference to a meeting in Seattle. (telephones)

I chose not to fly down for a 6 hour meeting. (planes)

I received a message concerned about a person who is not known to me, but- it turns out- knows some of my friends. (Internet, Facebook)

I made connections for a support network for this person via her/my friends. (Internet, Facebook messaging, text messages, telephone, voicemails)

I talked to a friend on the East Coast. (cell phone)

I went in a grocery store and a liquor store today. (so many choices)

I flushed toilets, ran water, turned lights on and off, gave medicine to a dog, and wore clothes that I did not make myself.

I took a shower, ran the dishwasher, the washing machine, and the dryer.



Dear 1864 compatriot-

There is but one thing that has remained the same: the grace of God.

Pax vobiscum.

Amazing Disgrace

According to reports, the 2014 midterm election cycle is shaping up to be one of the most expensive campaign seasons in history.

That expense is not determined by what things cost, but by what people choose to spend. 

This article from the Huffington Post cites estimates over $3 billion spent nationally.

Three. Billion. Dollars. Plus.

I do noon duty at my son's school two days a week. On those days I'm there alongside a Russian immigrant who works the night shift in a box store in order to be home in the morning to take her daughter to school. She then sleep in her car until it's time to help at lunch and recess. She wants to volunteer for the work, but she also really need the $10/hour.

The other day she asked me if I knew of any inexpensive places to rent. Our city is notorious for a very low vacancy rate for rentals and for a very high rental cost. (The market, you know.) Her current situation use all she earns, save $300, to cover her rent.

I discussed some food options with her and told her I would keep my ear open for any less expensive rental possibilities. She doesn't want a handout, but she needs the space to be able to make different choices.

Three billion dollars. A tenth of what was spent in the Alaskan Senate race could have funded a desperately needed spread of affordable housing in Anchorage, rather than the smear campaigns and half-truths that were the fruits of those funds.

In smaller settings, I remind people that our checkbooks reveal what we value.

It's true on a societal scale as well.

Do You Want to be Made Well?

John 5:1-18

            In the Monty Python movie Life of Brian, there is a scene in which a man solicits Brian (the main character) for money. He runs alongside Brian and says, “Alms for an old ex-leper?”

            When Brian finally understands what the man is saying, he replies, “Ex-leper?” The man explains that he had made his living, with his leprosy, by begging. Then Jesus came by and healed him, “without so much as a by-your-leave.” Now the man is begging as an ex-leper and he’s mad that Jesus robbed him of his trade.

            Brian says, “There’s just no pleasing some people.” The ex-leper replies, “That’s just what Jesus said, sir.”

            This is a very funny skit in the movie and we are able to laugh at it even out of context. The hard part to admit is the ring of truth that is lies in the dialogue. Becoming well, being healed, requires change. Not everyone is ready to embrace that kind of change.

            In today’s gospel reading, there is a man who has been ill for thirty-eight years. Given the relative life expectancy, he’s been sick for most, if not all, of his life. His parents are probably dead. His community is the other sick people around him. They wait by the pool, hoping to be the first in when the water ripples. In the man’s case, he may lack friends with the capability to get him to the pool. He may have stopped expecting to ever get there. His life has likely become begging for coins and food, receiving the prayers of well-meaning people who come to the pool, and waiting to die.

            Then Jesus comes along and asks, “Do you want to be made well?” What kind of a question is that? It’s actually an excellent question. Do you want your circumstances to change? Do you actually desire this? Are you willing to participate in a change? Are you prepared for how hard this might be?

            When people struggle with addiction, when they wrestle with illnesses that may have resulted from smoking, alcoholism, or overeating, when they experience failed relationships because of personal decisions… we have a tendency to assume that they don’t want to be well. That if they did, if they truly did, if way, way deep down, they really, really, really wanted to be well… they would do something differently. It’s not always that simple. It’s rarely that simple.

            In this story, the religious authorities see the man carrying his mat on the Sabbath. They chastise him for this. “You can’t do that on the Sabbath! It’s work!” The previously-ill man immediately passes the blame, “Hey, the guy who healed me told me to pick it up and carry it!” The authorities then go sniffing for the one who committed the more egregious Sabbath violation- a mat-carrier is a parking violation compared to the definite  8-point violation that is healing on the Sabbath!

            Why do they care so much? Aren’t they glad the man is healed? The truth is that these authorities are trying to protect their community. They are trying to preserve Jewish identity by protecting the things that make the community special and holy: circumcision, food laws, and Sabbath observance.

            The Jewish community is living under Roman rule. The Roman emperor portrays himself as a son of the gods and as a god himself. Those communities who are occupied by Rome, but desire to maintain their own identities have to cling to what makes them unique, over and against what Roman occupiers may want or expect.

            Keeping the Sabbath observance meant that Jewish people were not working, not selling to Romans or buying from them, not interacting with them and, thus, not acknowledging their power. Theorectically, then, the absence of work and the presence of worship marked the Jews as followers of the true God. Unfortunately, some of the Jewish leaders (not all leaders and NOT all Jews) became more concerned about the outward behavior than what it was supposed to represent. Rather than emphasizing the honoring God aspect, their focus because strict adherence to the rules.

            Thus, Jesus threatened their efforts to preserve the community. The change that he brought, the emphasis on belief and action in faith in God, disturbed the way that the authorities had structured the community. The change was too much. God was right in front of them… bringing in a new age of wholeness, encounter, and support for faith, but it was too much. Change is hard. Though many had prayed for the Messiah, when he wasn’t what they expected… they wanted him to go away. There’s no pleasing some people (which applies across all religions and denominations.

            Which brings us back to where we are, to our own lives, and to people we know who are struggling with all kinds of illnesses and demons. Don’t they want to be made well? Many of them do. Most of them do. More than we know. Many of us here may have similar longings in our lives. However, change is hard.

           

            Becoming well, being well, staying well… for many the change that is required is too difficult to maintain, if it can be conceived. It requires effort. An minute by minute process- not weekly, daily, or hourly- but a minute to minute awareness.

            Jesus tells the man not to sin again, so that nothing worse may happen to him. In the gospel according to John, sin is persisting in unbelief. It is not what you do necessarily, but sin is what you are unwilling to do… to trust in, to act on, to follow what God is revealing right in front of you. Jesus isn’t saying if the man messes up, God will smite him with illness. Jesus is pressing the man to move into the way of trust, into the life of believing, into the light that no darkness can overcome.

            Making that change will bring the man into a new relationship with God- a relationship that will come with wholeness, renewal, and community. Surely that’s worth it. We’d think so. We say so. Yet, in our hearts, we know when we haven’t wanted to change. We know making changes in ourselves, in our families, as a congregation, as a community is hard. Change means a shift in how we see those around us and ourselves. Change may mean altering some of our “rules” or ways of being and doing. Do we want change?

            This is the question that we live with- minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day. The question for the larger world and for the world within ourselves. God has revealed a desire for healing, relationship, hope, and forgiveness for us and for all people. So the question is: do you, do I, do we want to be made well?