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RECENT
SERMONS
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Sermons may be printed using the Adobe Acrobat version of the sermon. Click on the "printable format" link. If you do not have Acrobat Reader installed on your computer, click on the icon above and follow the simple directions to download it free from the Adobe web site. The Holy Innocents,
Martyrs Click here for printable .PDF format Jeremiah 31:15–17 Ephesians 6: 10-12 Grace, Mercy and Peace belong to you……………………. The title of today's sermon is THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK. You may recall the original Star Wars Trilogy where the first installment ends with Luke Skywalker, Hans Solo, Chewybacca , R2D2, and CP-3-0 receiving awards from Princess Leia. The good guys had won. But the Second Episode reveals that darkness had not yet begun to fight and so the Empire Struck Back. The struggle continued. Victory was pronounced in Iraq a half a year ago and the death count continues. Solders still appear at the front doors of homes with their grim announcement……even at Christmas.
AIDS kills several thousand children a day in Africa and leaves many thousands more as orphans.
One of the biggest industries in the country is the building of prisons and filling them to over crowding…….mostly due to drugs and alcohol. America is third in the world in capitol punishment behind China and Iraq.
Last Sunday your
pastor had to announce with a very heavy heart the deaths of Carol Hacker
and Jim Rapp. Fellow soldiers are not here anymore. In the first part of The Lord of the Rings Trilogy Gandolf, the good Wizard, is helping Frodo and Sam to return the ring and while on the noble journey he is attacked by a horrible dragon and seemingly thrown into a fiery hell. Does not life seem that way sometimes? We are on noble journeys and dragons come after us.
Several years ago a nice young couple in Littleton were blessed with a beautiful daughter by the name of Emily. And then along came Baby David. Almost from the beginning there seemed to be trouble. From what seemed like a joyous occasion things quickly moved into chaos. Into the Pediatric Intensive Care unit they went. At first days, then weeks and then months. The mother was never not near David's side except to shower and get some sleep. Father worked his job and did his time alongside as well. Grand parents on both sides, friends, relatives all pulled together. Prayers went up, masses were said. A heart was needed.
A transplant might save his life. Another child died someplace else.
A heart became available. A surgery team was put together. The doctor
slept alongside the crib. My wife and I went
to Children's Hospital late at night. We walked into a waiting room
and Kelly, the mother, cried out, "My baby is dead." What
can you do? Nothing to say.
It is not good to be Lutheran. It is not good to have a Theology of the Cross where we have to call and say things as they are. And….as a general theme life after Christmas is not all that sweet. Following the birth there is anger and murder, weeping and wailing, moving and resettling. After our Christmas carols, the opening of cards from old friends, the food, the drinks, the gift sharing we are confronted that the kingdom has not fully arrived. The "peace on earth" sung by the angels in the gospel of Luke is followed by death and destruction, suffering and evil. Egypt instead of becoming the symbol for slavery, becomes the place of refuge…..flight by night…….refugees on the run. Egypt served such a place for many persons in the Old Testament. Sometimes we need a place of refuge. Sometimes we need a place to go when our hearts will not stop wailing….when we can't seem to find consolation. I had a great Christmas. And, I believe, so did my family. It wasn't the script that I would have written, but then when we are not in control we are more open to surprises. Love happens when power and control take a holiday. But I have known Christmases when I have been on the road, seeking shelter. And so have you. And so this is the part of the sermon you get to write. What is the emptiness that can never be filled? The stories I am hearing in jail come one step short of making the Holocaust seem like a day at the beach. But everything is relative. You have your story of grief, betrayal, love that has fallen apart. Fill in the pictures, connect the dots. dredge that pain, free fall in that emptiness that won't go away, that tooth ache of the soul. Some of you are
elderly and know what it is like to be forced to move away. I think we are members and friends of St. Paul because we can come here and acknowledge that the barn or the cave smelled, swaddling clothes were like burial cloths, and the truth and struggle of your life can be shared and told. Not only do babies die but the child within is at risk of being crushed. Remember this is your story now. This is your sermon. I am just shot gunning to wake it up. The Empire has often struck back. And like they use to say, "Death is easy, comedy is hard." "We struggle not against enemies of flesh and blood ( In other words, death of body is easy), but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers of this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in heavenly places. A voice cries in the Ramah of our hearts and it won't be comforted. Anyone who has struggled with addition or wrestled with grief knows this. What are we to do? In what direction lies Egypt? The direction of Egypt lies wherever we can hear the word of God and receive the Sacraments…not as theological abstraction, but as flesh and blood shared on a pilgrims' journey. The Hymn of the
day is not a traditional Christmas hymn. It is a hymn of warfare.
Counter to the struggle is the quiet within. We hold the candle in the darkness on Christmas Eve for several reasons.
While the Hymn of the Day acknowledges the struggle, there is a verse of another hymn that I would offer you for a personal prayer:
We know the evil one is out there and in here. We are not only Christmas people, but Easter people who know that the Empire does not have the final word. God does. AMEN Christmas Eve Click here for printable .PDF format Isaiah 9:2–7 During Advent we prepared to celebrate the birth of Christ—and now it is Christmas and in this Mass of Christ, we remember the mystery of God–with–us, the mystery of the God who came to be one of us. Advent and Christmas, however, are not only about something that happened in the past. In this season we also remember and proclaim the promise that Christ will most surely come again. I can’t help but wonder what that will be like. We can be sure, however, that Christ’s Second Coming will not look anything like the Italian renaissance nativity scene that sits below my Christmas tree at home—nor will it look like the nativity scene here in front of the altar nor like any of the living nativity scenes that are being reenacted throughout the country. Let’s go back to the story of Christ’s first advent into our world and listen for some clues of what a contemporary nativity scene might look like. We hear in Matthew and Luke that Mary is pregnant out of wedlock—something that makes her an outlaw of sorts in the eyes of the religious authorities. Next, from St. Luke we hear some bureaucratic nonsense has forced very pregnant Mary and Joseph as yet not married to her to go to Bethlehem to get a certificate of enrollment. When the two get to Bethlehem, their accent tells everyone who hears them speak that they are from Galilee—and no one in Judea is fond of Galileans— they’re foreigners as far as the Judeans are concerned. And when the inn-keepers hear they’re from Nazareth . . . well, everyone knows the saying that nothing good comes from Nazareth. So Mary and Joseph find a stable—in a territory where wood was scarce, it is almost certain that the stable was really a dark, dank, cold, smelly cave—not the rustic, albeit cozy, stable of your nativity scene. And when Mary gives birth, she wraps her son in the rags that pregnant women carried with them in case the baby died at birth—a regular occurrence in those days. And she lays him in a feed trough—likely carved out of the stone of the cave wall. After a while some shepherds wander in, telling some tale about hearing angels. But shepherds were notorious oddballs—the bottom of the barrel—crazy or crooked or most likely both so who knows what they had heard. And when they leave the stable they go ‘round and about telling everyone what they had seen and heard—but of course sensible make some sort of gesture to indicate that these smelly shepherds are a bit meshuggenah in the head. In those days a decree went out the bureaucrats that all undocumentd foreign workers must carry identification. This was in the third year of George Bush’s presidency when Bill Owens was governor of Colorado. And Maria and José drove in from the ranch in Wyoming where they had been laboring as migrant workers in order to visit their country’s Consulate and obtain their matricula consular, a somewhat suspect form of identification they would need to have should anyone demand of them their papers. While they were there, Maria’s water broke and her labor pains began. Maria and José had taken little money with them, and most of what they had brought, they had already spent for some car parts that José needed when their rusted out 1982 Chevy Impala broke down on the way to Denver. They had tried to find a cheap motel on Colfax, but were repeatedly turned away from one seedy motel after another. No one wanted to put up two migrant workers without identification, one of whom was shrieking in some foreign language and appeared to all the world to be in labor. And they were afraid to go to a hospital where they might be turned over to immigration or whatever it was called now. And so José found an alleyway just off Colfax, behind a church. And he parked their rattle–trap Chevy with its faded, pealing paint and its gas-guzzling, oil–consuming engine between two dumpsters, and there Maria gave birth to her first born son. She wrapped him in an old sleeping bag that she and José had often slept in after working twelve to fourteen long hard hours in the fields where they made their living. And Maria and José named their son Jesús and laid him in the back seat. And there were homeless people huddled farther down in the alleyway, keeping watch over their shopping carts by night. Now Maria had caused quite a ruckus while she was in labor, and after these homeless ones had passed around a bottle of MD 20/20, they decided to go see what this noise was all about. And when they came upon the old Chevy with its noxious smoke belching forth from its tailpipe, they were amazed at what they saw there—Maria and José—and the baby Jesús asleep in the back seat. And one of the street people, hearing the names of these three and being thoroughly delusional wondered aloud: Could it be? Could this be the second coming so long foretold? And she tried to sing little bits and pieces of the song she had sung so long ago in parochial school. There was something in that old song about God looking with favor on God’s lowly servant. And something about God scattering the proud, about God bringing down the powerful and lifting up the lowly. Something about God filling the hungry with good things and sending the rich away empty. And all agreed that would be good thing. And after a bit, the homeless got their shopping carts and wheeled them out into the dawning light, and they told the story to everyone who would listen. How would that be for a living nativity? How would that sort of scene look here in front of the altar or beneath our Christmas trees? In a few minutes, we will proclaim during the Eucharistic prayer what is called the Mystery of Faith—we will say together, “Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again.” We remember in this season and whenever we celebrate the Eucharist, that even as Christ was born long ago in Bethlehem, so too, it has been promised us that Christ will come again. Hear these words from St. Mark: “But about that day or about that hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. Beware, keep alert; for you do not know when the time will come. And what I say to you I say to all: Keep awake.” Perhaps . . . some cold night, down some dark alleyway, behind a church, between two dumpsters . . . and adored by some homeless ones keeping watch over their shopping carts by night . . . The Fourth Sunday
in Advent Click here for printable .PDF format Micah 5:2–5a In the very first story of Holy Scripture, we hear how God created light, the sky, the earth, how God brought into being the seas, plants, the sun, the moon, the stars, living creatures, and finally humans. How? God spoke. With spoken words, says The Story, God brought all things into being. God spoke, and it was so. Now, hear this story: "But how can this be?" The message answered, "The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you – and that which is born to you will be holy." The one receiving the message said, "Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word." If you know The Big Story of which this Story is a part, you likely concluded that this is the story of Mary, how Mary became the Mother of Our Lord. And of course, your conclusion would be correct. But this story, like all great stories, is about something more as well. Certainly this is the story of how Mary came to bear Christ within herself. Just as all thas is, seen and unseen, came into being through the speaking, the wording forth of God, so too when a Word from God came to Mary that she would conceive and bear the Son of God, that is, says the Story, exactly what happened. Martin Luther's favorite term for Mary was theotokos, the term used by the Greek Orthodox Communion to refer to the Blesséd Virgin Mary. The word theotokos means the one who gives birth to God. God said that Mary would become pregnant with God, that she would be theotokos, the one who bears God into the world – and behold, it was so. The story of Mary, theotokos, the God bearer, is not, however, only a story about Mary. It is a story about us, a story about you. It is the story about how each one of you came to be the one who brings Christ into the world. To each of you the Word comes, in the Sacraments and in the Proclamation, that you are filled with the righteousness of Christ. In Holy Baptism the Holy Spirit came upon you, and the power of the Most High overshadowed you. Through the Word that enters your ears, Christ is conceived in you. And in Holy Communion, you do take Christ's body and blood enter in through your mouth to be a part of your own body and blood. And so in your bodies, you come to be the ones who bear Christ to the World. Each of you is, with Mary, theotokos, the one who gives birth in the world to Christ. God speaks, and it is so. This past week, twice I held in my hands, the dying hands of two who were truly theotokos. Both Carol and Jim, here, in this place, heard the liberating Word of God that proclaimed they were filled with the righteousness of Christ. Here in this place, Jim and Carol, received Christ, Word made flesh, into their bodies. Through what happened week after week, here in this place, the Holy Spirit came upon Jim and Carol, and Jim and Carol were overshadowed by the power of the Most High God. As a result of what happened, what happens, here in this place, Jim and Carol, in turn, spoke forth with their lives and said, with Mary, "Here am I, Lord, your servant; let it be with me according to your word." And so, like Mary, full of grace, Carol and Jim sang Mary's song with their very lives, "My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for God has looked with favor on me, God's lowly servant; for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is God's name. God lifts up the lowly and fills the hungry with good things." And everyone whose lives were touched by these saintly sinners, these sinning saints, knows the many ways Carol and Jim sang and danced this song with their lives, how they bore Christ to the world, the many ways in which they were like Mary, theotokos, ones who gave birth to Christ in this world. God spoke, and it was so. There is another story about Mary, theotokos. This story is from tradition, and because it was not found in Scripture, Luther opined that it should not be taught as doctrine – but that in the freedom of the Gospel, neither should the traditional story be forbidden teaching. Though it is not found in Scripture, this story has precedent in the story of Elijah told in the Second book of Kings, the story of how Elijah did not die but was brought, body and soul, to be with God. This same type of story, when traditionally told of Mary, is called the Assumption and tells how Mary was "assumed," that is, brought body and soul to be with her Son. And none other than Martin Luther makes reference to this tradition in the prayer he composed for his own grave. Indeed, just as we trust in faith that Christ's resurrection and ascension are ours, so too may we trust in faith that this is Mary's story. And so too we may trust that this our story too. Both Carol and Jim held fast in faith to the story that they would be brought body and soul to be with God at the time of their deaths. Carol and Jim were good friends and they loved one another. When I told Carol that Jim was close to death, she, in absolutely typical Carol fashion, told me, in no uncertain terms, to tell Jim that she would be there waiting for him, waiting to welcome him with open arms when Jim died and went to be with God. And the look on Jim's face when I told him Carol's words was one of utmost grace, peace, and joy. And when Jim's mom told Jim on Thursday that Carol had died, Jim said that he was glad Carol's suffering was at an end – but that he was also very, very glad for himself – that Carol would be there to welcome him as he died and ascended to God. The story of Mary's Assumption became this week the shared story of Jim and Carol. So too these stories of Mary are our stories – they are the stories of each and every one of you. God has spoken, and it is so that each and every one of you, baptized in the Holy Spirit and overshadowed by the power of the Most High through the Word and Sacraments, is filled with God. God has spoken, and it is so that each of you will bear Christ to the little, the lost, the last, the least, the unloved. And to each of you is promised that with Mary, with Jim, with Carol, with the beloved dead of your lives, in the hour of your death, you too will be raised, that you too will ascend to be with God forever. God has spoken, and it will be so. And Mary said, and Carol said, and Jim said, and we say, "Here am I, Lord, your servant: let it be with me according to your word." The Third Sunday
in Advent Click here for printable .PDF Zephaniah 3:14–20 A week ago Thursday a man came to St. Paul asking for assistance. Like so many others, he came with both a need and a story to tell. Like so many others, he left us with a gift. His story was that the paperwork for his unemployment check had been lost in one of a million bureaucratic messes. His completed application, which he turned in on time, sat in some nameless pile as the caseworker told him there was nothing he could do until the following Monday. Without that money to pay his rent, he was locked out of his apartment for the weekend and needed someplace to stay. Jan asked him what he needed and he requested $30 – enough to stay in the "flop-room" of a local hotel for two nights. He said, "I know that lots of people come to St. Paul needing help." Because of this he felt that asking for enough rent money for the place he had been locked out of was too much to ask. As he talked, I remember thinking that I would have asked for more money than he did; I don't think he even asked for enough to stay in the "flop-room" through the weekend. I also remember being amazed at the man's level of contentment. His list of needs was short: Three free meals a day at the senior center, a beer in the evening to help him relax, and a place to stay where he could sleep in a cot or a bed, shower in the morning, and where he wouldn't have to interact with people abusing alcohol and other drugs. As I listened to him, I was aware that he had an incredible insight on his needs versus his wants. This insight was gift he left. I can't help but compare this man's insight to the other messages we receive during this time of year. Every time I turn on the television, open my mailbox, or flip on the radio there is an advertisement or catalogue telling me that there is something I can buy that will make me the most wonderful, beautiful, intelligent, successful and popular person in the world. Even though I have pretty good sense about how advertising works and even though I spent 2 years (not the usual 1) as a Border Servant Corps volunteer learning how to live simply, I still buy into the wanting of Christmas, hook, link and sinker. Just ask my mom how long ago I started my Christmas list and how many times its been revised since then! I know…I've been at the church services and adult forums, too – this is supposed to be a season of waiting, not one of wanting. The fact of the
matter is that this wanting is not something that just goes on in the
five weeks before Christmas. It seems worse this time of year, but the
fact is that we live in a land of wanting - in the sense that many of
us want things we don't really need as well in the sense that too many
of us want for the basic necessities of life. For those of us in the
former category, the current list of items that will make our lives
perfect goes something like this: a new cell phone, car, bike, wardrobe,
house, patio, hairdo, make-up product, diet, or exercise routine. Not
only that, but the president has suggested that this purchasing is a
patriotic duty, that our economy will collapse if we stop buying, buying,
buying. Maybe that part is true…I don't know that much about economics,
but I do know that after I get that new thing that is going to make
my life perfect – my life is pretty much the same. Does that happen
to you too? John tries to make it pretty simple. He says, "If you have two coats, give one of them to someone who does not have a coat and if you have more food than you need, share the extra with someone who is hungry." There's murmuring
in the crowd. Whispered conversations are taking place. "Yes,"
John says. John knows about these tax collectors. He knows that they pay a fee at the beginning of the year for the right to collect other people's money. They are not very well liked, but they do pretty well financially since they usually collect more money than they are required to. "Well," John said, "only collect the amount you are expected to collect." There is more whispering
in the crowd. This time one of the soldiers raises his hand and asks,
"What about us?" Soldiers are known for bribing and threatening
people in order to supplement their wages. The crowd comes into the desert wanting to be baptized and John tells them to "Bear fruits worthy of repentance." Repentance – we've heard that word before. In Kevin's sermon last week he described repentance as a change of mind, a re-imagining or re-thinking. However, in the mindset of John's time and culture, changing ones mind also means changing ones actions. Repentance indicates a change from within that "must be demonstrated in the totality of a corresponding life, a life of love and righteousness in accordance with the will of God." So, the crowd comes to be baptized, but what they're told is that baptism is not just an empty ritual; in being baptized, they are committing to a new way of life, a life that entails an awareness of needs versus wants and a commitment to being satisfied with what they receive. To the tax collectors John said, "collect your due – it is enough." To the soldiers he said, "You don't need bribes, you have enough." Enough is the middle line between wanting, as in desiring more than you have and wanting, as in not having enough to sustain yourself. "If you have extra food and clothing, give it to someone who needs that food or clothing. Then everyone will have enough. John knows, however, that even when we know what we are expected to do, it is impossible to do it on our own. He tells the crowd, "I baptize you with water…but one…is coming [who] will baptize you with the Holy Spirit." He explains to the crowd what bearing fruits worthy of repentance means in their day to day lives, but he indicates that repentance will only be possible through the coming of Jesus, and the gift of the Holy Spirit working within them. As Lutherans we also believe that "Baptism is the beginning of a way of life to be lived in the world. But, we cannot be changed on our own, we cannot change just because we want to or know what we are called to do. We change, we repent, we bear fruits because the Holy Spirit is acting within us. None of the commercials
or catalogues this season are going to tell you to be satisfied with
what you have. They will tell you that you will be more beautiful, popular,
successful and wonderful if you have their product. Listen to John for
a moment. He may be the only one who says it this whole season. Be satisfied
with what you receive – it is enough. The man who came for assistance
understood. Know that Jesus is coming and that it will be the Holy Spirit
working within each of us that will make it possible for us to repent,
to understand what is enough and for us to be satisfied with what we
receive. The Feast of Christ
the King Christ, the King. King of kings, and Lord of lords. And he shall reign for ever and ever. Handel’s “Hallelujah Chorus” exploding in my brain. Forever and ever, alleluia, alleluia. Music of triumph, trumpets sounding, drums crashing, massive choir singing for all it’s worth, powerful, mighty macho-music if there ever was any. The Kingdom of this world is become the kingdom of our Lord and of his Christ and he shall reign for ever and ever. Hallelujah! Dangerous, triumphalist music. And the Feast of Christ the King a dangerous triumphalist day on the church calendar. Jesus answers Pilate, “My kingdom is not of this world. If my kingdom were of this world, my followers would be fighting.” And Pilate responds, “So, you are a king.” Jesus: “You say that I am a king.” People without power and privilege ask such good questions, and so she said to me, “Why all this King stuff? Why all this ‘Lord’ language? Why Christ a male at all? It’s just more hierarchy, just more male domination. Haven’t we had enough?” Indeed. The kingdom of our Lord and of Christ has been made to be the kingdom of this world. But Jesus says, “My kingdom is not of this world.” Perhaps best to listen less to Handel, perhaps best to put away the white and gold vestments, perhaps best to listen again to the story. Jesus, conceived
out of wedlock, in a good-for-nothing backwater dump of a town, to a
unwed peasant. Born in a cold, dank, dark cave that doubled for a barn
– a setting that foreshadows a Friday tomb. Wrapped only in the
rags that doubled for a grave cloth in the far-too-common event that
the baby didn’t survive the birthing process. No royal courtiers
to pay homage at his birth, just some nit-wit shepherds, known for little
else than their questionable life-styles. And then he disappears from sight – no stories of royal princely exploits remembered. He reemerges thirty years later – no wife, no children, a status bound to raise more than a few eyebrows, if you know what I mean, nudge, nudge, wink, wink. Shiftless, to boot – not holding down a real job – but living off others. Traipsing about with some dirty fishermen from that sink-hole Galilee and attended by women of ill-repute, swilling wine with tax-collectors, hanging out with drunkards and gluttons. Unwilling to keep the commandments – breaking Sabbath, touching dead bodies and holding onto those whose moral degeneracy was made evident in the diseases they carried. Not only debasing himself by talking with women, but talking and acting like a woman as well. What real man, being struck on one cheek would turn the other cheek? Real men fight back. Real men know what to do to their enemies – and certainly real kings don’t go around telling their followers to love their enemies. That’s no way to run a kingdom. Just think where we would be if every king endorsed such behavior. Talk about a threat to good order. And real men know that women are good for one thing and one thing only – and sitting down and talking to them about God and other things that matter is not one of them. Real royalty, real men, know how to show women that they are property – and like property, the more, the better. Real kings would have dozens of wives and many more concubines. And then that pathetic entrance into Jerusalem. A real man, a real Lord, a real king would have entered Jerusalem on a real mount, a stallion, and would be attended by real men on real horses. Instead, he rides like some peasant woman, on a donkey for God’s sake. And with a deluded lower class mob made up of woman, children, and the diseased singing some ridiculous song. And later that week stooping down to wash the feet of other men – and even women. Utterly disgusting – the work of slaves and the lowest of women. But if he wants to be a king, we’ll let him be king. Let him stand stark naked, with a rag of purple around his shoulder. And we’ll put a crown on his head alright – a crown of rose-stems. Here push it down real tight so it won’t fall off. And sure, we’ll anoint him – with spit – spit mingled with the blood from his pretty crown. “Behold your king.” What a laugh. “Behold the man,” says Pilate. Another laugh. Behold the woman, behold the sissy. He wants a throne? We’ll give it him. Hoist him up upon the gallows. He supposedly saved others – yeah, right, he can’t even save himself. And then that dying speech – Forgive them. Forgive them for they know not what they do. Yeah, right. Like we need to be forgiven. He’s the one who needs to be forgiven for thinking he was anything other than a pathetic, weak, womanish misfit. Thank God the kingdom of this world has not become the kingdom of this footwashing, sissy peasant who wanted all of us to be like slaves and women. Just think what would happen if everybody acted like that. The music keeps going through my head. This time really dangerous music. St. Paul sings to the church, St. Paul sings to you, St. Paul sings to me. First the recitative,
And now the haunting chorus, the chorus made to haunt us:
Behold your king. Behold yourselves. 29th Sunday in Ordinary
Time (Proper 24) Click
here for printable .PDF format Isaiah 53.4–12 Well, well, well,
it seems James and want Jesus to grant them great honors. Isn’t
that special? And of course, when the rest of the disciples catch on
to what James and John are up to, the little green monster grabs them
by the heart and the ten are angry, real angry. Of course they’re
angry – what the church calls original sin is alive and
well in James, John and the other ten disciples. Original sin is not
about getting down and getting dirty, it’s not about having one’s
mind in the gutter, it’s not about what a person eats or drinks.
Original sin is all about power – it’s about human beings
lusting after power; it’s about each and every one of us
wanting to be God, wanting to be the one in control, wanting to have
honor and glory reserved for us alone – and we ain’t going
to share. And it’s about stepping on anyone who gets in the way
of our need for control, our need for dominance, our need to be number
one. And when we fail in our climb to the top, in our attempts to control,
our quest for honor and glory (as we always do fail) we find people
around us to blame, we put down people around us so that we can at least
feel superior to someone, and, when all else fails, we blame
God for not surrendering power and control to us and our schemes –
or, at the very least, scold God for not consulting us as to how the
world should be created and managed. James and John in
requesting the top places of honor are acting true to human form; so
are the ten other disciples, each of them highly offended because
each of them has been hankering after those places of highest honor.
But in steps Jesus with the great reversal, an enigmatic reply if there
ever was one, a reply warranted to leave the disciples licking their
wounds for quite some time to come. “Listen,” says Jesus,
“you are not chosen to be persons of power and might. You have
been chosen to be servants to the world – my choosing you, my blessing
upon you, is that you will be slaves to any and all who are in need
– in body, mind, or heart.” Today is a special
day in the life of this St. Paul English Evangelical Lutheran Church.
One-hundred-nineteen years ago, 18 people came together to organize
a new kind of Lutheran faith community. Typically, Lutheran congregations
of that era were organized to meet the needs of like-minded people;
Swedish immigrants organized congregations to serve the needs of other
Swedish people; so did the Danes, the Norwegians, the Germans, the Finns,
the Slovaks, and so on. Whether it was their intent or not, they all
kept outsiders out by speaking their native languages even while they
spoke English in their everyday lives and insisting that their children
do likewise. Not so with the 18 who came together to organize St. Paul
English Evangelical Lutheran Church — many, if not most of whom
were of German descent. Even though there were two Lutheran churches
in their neighborhood, both were effectively closed to non-Swedish speaking
Lutherans. The saints who organized this congregation 119 years ago
effectively reached out to a diverse community: this would not be a
German Lutheran faith community, not a Norwegian Lutheran faith community,
not a Danish Lutheran faith community – but a faith community that
would transcend the limitations of ethnic exclusivity. By being an English-speaking
congregation, the nascent St. Paul community would be opening its doors
to any who wished to come. Celebrating a congregation’s
anniversary can be dangerous in the extreme. It can become a time of
looking back and being self-congratulatory; it can be a time for imagining
that our longevity entitles us to sit at Christ’s right or left.
In looking backward, it can become a time when our history becomes a
source of pride rather than a series of lessons that teach us how to
be a servant people here, now, today, how to be slaves to those who
are in need. For instance, we can look back at this congregation’s
English language roots and doggedly refuse to acknowledge that many
around us who are in need are Spanish-speakers whose struggles to keep
themselves and their families together do not afford them the luxury
of participating in English as a Second Language instruction. Living
in the past can make us to be like James and John, seeking honor for
ourselves rather seeking how we might in this time and in this place
serve the vulnerable, the broken, the lonely, the searching, the lost.
In the spirit of
the great reversal pronounced upon us in this morning’s Gospel,
let us do some looking forward into the 120th year of this faith community’s
ministry in Denver. First, in measuring
our effectiveness, let us not ask, “How many new members has the
pastor brought in this year?” Rather let us ask, “How many
people have I invited to church so that they might hear and receive
the good news?” Second, when contemplating
some form of change, let us not say, “If this proves to be upsetting
to any of our members we won’t do it.” Let no one ask “How
will this affect me?” Rather let us all say, “If this will
help us serve someone on the outside, we will take the risk and do it.” Third, when thinking
about growth, let us not ask “How many Lutherans live within a
twenty-minute drive of this church?” Rather, let us ask, “How
many people yearning to hear a word of good news live in this neighborhood?” Fourth, when a visitor
or newcomer is in our midst, let us not silently wonder who that person
is or worry about saying the wrong thing. Instead, let us graciously
greet all whom we do not know and say, “Hi, let me introduce myself;
let me introduce you to some others here; let me introduce you to our
pastor.” Fifth, rather than
seeking to make sure everything is in order and running smoothly, rather
than conforming to the managerial technique du jour, let us cast
a vision of what a community centered in the radical good news of Christ
can be, living on the edge — and sometimes marching right off the
map in order to proclaim the Gospel to those who have been cast out
and looked down upon. Sixth, instead of
looking at our city and neighborhood and asking, “How can we get
these people to support our congregation?” let us ask “How
can St. Paul Church minister to these people?” Seventh, let us
not ask “How can we save this congregation?” Rather, let us
ask “How can we reach out and bind up the wounds of a weary, war-torn,
and waiting world?” And last, as we enter into the 120th year of this faith community’s ministry, let us hear these words of promise: "I am the Son of Humanity and I am in your midst, not to be served, but to serve you. I have come to give my life that you may be ransomed from your captivity to pride and self-interest. I have come to give my life’s blood to free you from self-service, to free you for service to the last and the least. I have come to deliver you from slavery to the idols of riches and honor, that you may become slaves to all who are in need. My blessing upon you is to equip you to be servants who bind up the broken. And I will go through the cross to bless you with this blessing. I will suffer rejection and death to bless you for this task. I will go through hell itself to bless you to be servants in my name. And I will be resurrected within you that you might be a ransom for many, a servant of all, a slave to all in need.” The Exaltation of
the Holy Cross Click here for printable .PDF format. Numbers 21.4b–9 St. Paul writes,
“But we proclaim Christ crucified, a stumbling block to the Jews
and foolishness to the Gentiles.” There is a certain
irony that in a church named after the apostle Paul, there are no crucifixes
in the worship space – that all we see are pretty, gold-colored,
empty crosses. The same irony holds true for a church that bears Martin
Luther’s name, for at the center of Martin Luther’s teaching
his theology of the cross – not the empty cross, but the cross
that forces us to behold the deed accomplished there. It is Christ and
him crucified that is at the center of the Pauline and Lutheran proclamation
of the Gospel, the Good News. When Paul says to
the Corinthians, “we proclaim Christ crucified,” he is speaking
to a world all too familiar will crucifixion – and it’s mere
mention would have caused revulsion and horror to well up in the minds
and emotions of those hearing St. Paul speaking “Christ crucified.”
Crucifixion was the cruel and unusual form of execution reserved for
rebels, insurrectionists, slaves, and other criminals who were not Roman
citizens. Crucifixion was a particularly hideous means of capital punishment.
Those who were crucified died a slow and tortured death. They would
hang by their arms often for days while the weight of their bodies would
pull down on their chests making breathing more and more difficult until
finally exhausted they could no longer catch a breath and then they
would suffocate. While hanging thus, the completely naked victims were
exposed to the elements – hot sun during the day and cold by night.
Sometimes, as in the case of Jesus of Nazareth, the criminals would
be severely beaten before being hanged from the cross – and so
blood would be mixed in with the sweat, vomit, tears, urine and feces
that would issue forth from the traumatized body. Behold the naked,
suffering, revolting, stinking Christ of God. There God rules, not condemning
us for putting him there, but proclaiming mercy and forgiveness for
us who cannot stand the idea that God would come to earth to dine with
outcasts and sinners, would come to earth to consort with riff-raff
and trash, would come to earth to love prostitutes and thieves. Among the last words
of Jesus as he suffered and died were these: “Father, forgive them.”
And there, precisely there in those words is the final and lasting testimony
of God, the new covenant – and the surprise of the resurrection
validates its truth. On the cross, in Christ Jesus, God declares to
the whole world: I would rather die than not be the God of mercy. In
Christ Jesus, God declares, I would rather suffer a hideous and shameful
death than be known as a God of vengeance. I would rather be condemned
by your narrow notions of truth and justice than be known as the god
who favors one nation over others, I would rather fear the utter darkness
of death than be bound to any of your religious, economic, juridical,
or political systems. I would rather my blood and guts run down the
wood of the cross than be known as the God who calls anyone an abomination
in my eyes. It is that death,
and that death alone that puts to death all those rational schemes,
all those projects, ideas, and ideals that are supposed to carry us
to our planned and preconceived destinations. In his own bloody, stinking
death, the Christ of God declares that none of our schemes will succeed
in deterring God’s will to be known as the one who desires that
the good things of creation be shared by all, the one who desires that
all be loved unconditionally, the one who desires that mercy and peace
be the final words of creation. We proclaim this
horrid scene of the cross to be the power of God and the wisdom of God,
that which saves the whole world from a god of wrath and exchanges the
vengeful god for the one God, the God whose love cannot be tamed by
any of our systems or schemes. Strip the roses and the gold from the
cross and behold the suffering one who absorbs all our death-dealing
devices into his own tortured body so that you may absorb into yourselves
his perfect fulfillment of the Law to love God and to love the neighbor.
Behold the bloodstained
cross from which the Christ of God declares to you that it is finished,
that everything is accomplished there for your sake. And in the surprise
of the resurrection, the Christ of the cross is vindicated – and
so there is nothing left for you to do but to live in Christ and Christ
in you. And as sign and seal of that promise, you have been marked in
baptism with an instrument of torture, the cross of Christ, and against
that sign not even the gates of hell shall prevail. That you may live
in Christ and Christ in you, receive here his true body and blood and
know that Christ did die that you may know that there is nothing, no
sentence this world can pronounce, not even the sentence of death, that
will ever separate you from the God of love. Nothing in all creation. |
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