What's in a Name

The bible text that goes with this sermon is available at: https://bible.oremus.org/?ql=500357887

“YHWH" by Scott Erickson

What’s in a name? It’s the question Shakespeare’s Juliet poses from her balcony as the young Romeo persistently reaches for some kind of handle on their budding relationship. It’s the scene in so many romance stories from Cinderella to Zombieland, where learning the name of a would-be lover feels like its own kind of quest. It’s the “hey, what’s YOUR name?” from a stranger at the bar. Or maybe nowadays, it’s “hey, what’s your Instagram?” 

It’s also a dad at the morning school drop-off noticing a small child standing still on his own and looking lost in the schoolyard, bending down to look him in the eyes and say, “hey, your name is Johnathon, right? And you’re in Ms.C’s class with Dylan, right? Do you need some help getting to kindergarten? Ok, let’s go together.”

Often there’s this prolonged drama that resists giving up this information that feels like it gives away just a bit more than that. There’s this space that lingers between being known and unknown. Or perhaps, between being known in a particular kind of way to being known in a new way.

Names matter. It’s why the call to “say their names”, to remember and speak the names of those violently taken, is subversively powerful. It’s a simple and revolutionary act to refuse to be forgotten and silent.

Last week we talked a bit about how Jacob’s name, meaning someone who strives at the heel, is both a name that says something about who he’s been and who is becoming. When he wrestles with divine shadows his name is changed to Israel, meaning someone who strives with God - a name that is in some ways new, but also a continuation, or a revelation, of what has always been true of him throughout. Several generations have passed since the life of Israel, and his thirteen children including Joseph who survived cruelty to rise to power in Egypt. Several more have come and gone since the people of God had trust and influence in the places of power and in fact, have now become oppressed and enslaved out of fear for how such a numerous and connected people threaten systems of institutional control and exploitation. The book of Exodus, a name which means “the way out”, begins by saying that a new Pharaoh arose who did not know Joseph. And so we come to a time, when names of meaning seem to have been lost to time and place, or perhaps separated from their story and their lives.

So what IS in a name? Why does it matter? Because obviously it matters to Moses who keeps pressing toward God to know….who are you, like really? What kind of God shows up like this and says these things? And if this is gonna involve me taking risks, I want to know a bit more about who is going to be beside me for what may come, I want to know if this person is trustworthy.

Names hold the power of specificity rather than something generic. It’s what allows us to call out to a friend by name through a crowd so we can be together. “Hey Julie, we’re over here” has a stronger pull and greater dignity than “hey lady, lady, we need more chips at our table.” Name has the ability to move people in different ways.

Sometimes that power of name is mingled with an understanding of authority. Having the name of someone or something provides some measure of control or access not only to them, but the access or status they hold. It’s why people name-drop - so that you know that they know someone important and somehow that also makes them important. How people use that name can be a powerful tool for change and justice, it’s what Moses is banking on when addressing the people and the Pharaoh. But it can also have abusive “I know the manager here” vibes. I’m sure you’ve experienced someone using God’s name in this vain way. Sometimes it seems like those who are most eager to use God’s name are the least connected to what it means. So before you put God’s name in your mouth, make sure it’s also in your heart. 

Maybe that authoritative use of name is part of what Moses has in mind, but something else is at the heart of what God is trying to say. All of those other understandings and uses of name only have power...because they ride on the implication of relationship. From the beginning, as God invites humanity to share in the naming of creation, name is established as a gift that comes from shared connection. 

During their meeting on the mountaintop, before and through the sharing of the divine name, God is reinforcing the nature of their relationship and reveals that relationship is who God is. It’s how God is known, called, and experienced. God wants us to know that who She is, is connective, woven in and through the world throughout time and place and people.

God says to Moses in Hebrew, “ehyeh asher ehyeh” 

It means “I AM WHO I AM,” but also “I am who I will be, who I am becoming and who I have always been.” 

God says further, “Thus you shall say to the Israelites, ‘I AM has sent me to you.’” God says to Moses, “Thus you shall say to the Israelites, ‘The Lord, the God of your ancestors, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, has sent me to you’:This is my name for ever,and this my title for all generations.” (Exodus 3:14–15 NRSV)

In order to not only say but show who God is, God says, “I am the God who has walked alongside you and your people from the beginning, time and time again, who is still with you now, whose divine self is unfolding before your eyes, who goes with you into this uncertain future, and who will be here long after.” God chooses to be identified in and through relationship that extends before, beside, and beyond. Our God is a connective God. 

And it’s a good thing too, because often the promises and presence of God can feel disorienting to say the least. This call to be a part of liberation always means that you are leaving something else and it is often a lonely and isolating endeavor. Against all the powers that go against these holy promises, the powers that oppress and harm and cause us to despair, it often feels as though we are standing completely alone...and honestly, sometimes we are.  I can sympathize with a Moses who says,‘O my Lord, please send someone else.’

Perhaps this is why God gives us a divine name as close as our very breath. At the heart of this back and forth, God says to Moses, ‘Thus you shall say to the Israelites, “The LORD, the God of your ancestors, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, has sent me to you.” (3:15) Anytime you see The LORD in all capital letters in the Old testament, it signifies the use of the intimate name of God, which is to be treated with such reverence that it isn’t even translated so as not to be misused. Some Jewish teachers do, however, invite us to notice that the letters that make up this name, the name of God, YHVH, seems to be the sound of our own breathing. Out and in. Yod Hey; Vav Hey.

Perhaps God’s name and God’s very self is known in the quick shallow breaths that emerge even from silent weeping, in rasping heaving chests that yearn for air, in the deep sighs that catch us as we seek to reset ourselves. Perhaps God’s name and God’s very self is known in the swell of deep belly laughs bursting with the full force of the divine from our gut, in the air that rushes through our throats to sing even before a note is heard, in the resonant chambers of our mouths as they amplify shouts of justice. God sees and hears our suffering and our joy, even when it lacks the shape or words and exists only in our breath, because that’s where God is dwelling too. 

It’s so like God to put something so holy within something so common, to marry the extraordinary to the ordinary. To take a scraggly wild shrub and dry desert floor and call it holy ground. To speak to and through someone like Moses, who only barely survived infancy because his mother and midwives and sister and royal adoptive mother defied others in authority to preserve him from a genocidal death. Moses, who is unpolished, ineloquent, and unsure. Moses, who is morally messy in his murder of cruel slavemasters. Moses, who is only here on this mountain now because he has run away from it all. 

It is so like God to hold together these disparate and sometimes mundane moments of his life in such a way that transforms them into someone who has just the right experience and relationships to be a means of holy liberation for himself and for a whole people. To catch our attention through the earthy crackle of fire so that we might notice the reflection of flame in ourselves.To be who God has always been, and is now, and will continue to be beyond our imaginations.

I wonder what God is calling you to recognize as holy. 

I wonder what cries of suffering you are particularly attuned to notice.

I wonder what God has surrounded you with for this moment.

A Blessing for The Removal of Masks

The bible text for this sermon is available at https://bible.oremus.org/?ql=499757827

“Jacob’s Dream” by Marc Chagall

The boy who followed his aging father Abraham into the wilderness has grown to become old man himself, slowing down to savor his favorite foods as the days of his life grow shorter, and looking toward what comes next .  The promise that God made to Abraham and Sarah, that their descendants would fill and bless the earth, has continued through Isaac and his wife Rebekah, and now looks for a new way forward as the story continues beyond them. And so we come to Jacob and Esau, grandsons God’s promise, twins who have wrestled fiercely against each other since their mother’s womb. The struggle within Rebekah was so great that she cried out to the Lord, who told her:

“two nations are in your womb,

And two peoples born of you shall be divided;

The one shall be stronger than the other,

The elder shall serve the younger.” (Gen 25:22-23)

From the moment the children are born, their relationship is filled with conflict, manipulation, and bitterness. Apparently dysfunctional families can be included in God’s story too. Jacob, is the younger twin who came out holding onto his brother’s heel, from the beginning… grabbing onto his brother’s proverbial coat tails.

His name, Jacob, means “one who takes by the heel” or “one who strives, supplants, replaces, unseats.” I wonder…is he aptly named on account of his actions, or does the name he is assigned begin to take on a life of its own, leading him into a particular identity and way of being. Like labeling someone as hero or criminal - does it give meaning to who they already are, or does it resign them to be who others have said that they are.

We, the reader, may see Jacob as manipulator or as one who is manipulated or both. It seems Jacob wrestles with who he is too. It seems Jacob isn’t sure who he is or who he wants to be, so right now he’s trying to be Esau.

He literally wrestles with his brother at birth; he will figuratively wrestles with his father-in-law while on the run; and when he returns toward reconciliation, he again physically wrestles with an unknown shadow of a person all through the veil of night until he presses once more to be blessed. This mysterious divine shadow will ask him, “what is your name?” He responds, “I am Jacob.” But what he implies, is that I am what my name has said I am.”  I’m the one who strives, who toils against, the underdog, the hustler.

Perhaps Jacob, through his experiences, has come to believe that this is how things are and must be – that one must snatch blessing from the world, to wrestle it to the ground and pin it down, to put on a mask of what we think is needed in order to achieve approval, safety, prosperity, or goodness. Even now, we snatch, maneuver, wrestle and strain. We see and sometimes are those who get ahead by unearned advantage.  We get caught up in putting on a show with hashtag #blessed, trying to convince ourselves as much as anyone else that if we manifest it, it will come - a sort of spiritual “fake it ‘til we make it.”

I’m not saying I’m entirely against hustle…that is, using all of what you’ve got, to live into the fullness of who you know yourself to be…but that’s very different, it’s an entirely different mindset than thinking you HAVE to hustle to be worth anything, to have any chance at goodness. It’s quite different from making your way by undercutting and harming others in order to get there, or by losing yourself in the process.

Ultimately none of those things are what earn blessing. In fact, the beauty of blessing is that it can’t be earned, only given. And to Jacob it emerges here….in the wilderness, on the run, even to the scoundrels and those who think themselves to be. All this wrestling changes Jacob and so does the blessing that emerges amidst the wrestling. It causes him to see things in new ways, to notice things he didn’t see before, to recognize what was already there.

As he rests from his running and wrestling, in the thin space of dreams, Jacob recognizes that even here, even now…he is surrounded by God’s angels and by God’s very self. It seems this blessing is a kind of opening our eyes anew – to recognize the divine in our midst, to see ourselves, just as we are, as part of God’s story and God’s promises, and to have our gaze turned from focusing only on ourselves in order to see others as a part of this holy blessing too. This blessing isn’t exclusively for Jacob’s benefit as God voices that “all the families of the earth shall be blessed in you and your offspring.”

To me, this sounds a lot like the blessing of baptism. It’s not that the elements of water and the words of promise impart something magical or entirely new. Rather, it’s a recognition of blessing that is already present and true. In baptism, we give voice to the divine promise, “you, by name, are a child of God.” It isn’t earned or deserved or achieved, it is just who you have always been and were created to be…emerging to the surface and being recognized in community. The recognition still matters, and it shapes us in important ways, but it’s not the hinge on which the blessing rests.

And then we light a candle for the baptized and commend them by saying, “let your light shine before others so that they might recognize and respond to the goodness of God around THEM.” The blessing of God is, at its core, always an expansive blessing that turns us toward one another for the good of one another. It is a blessing that blooms as it is shared. It echoes from the beginning when God blesses us to be fruitful and grow in such a way that supports others to grow. It carves a way from the waters of creation through our own deep wells of being to recognize the ripples of blessing that we are a part of.

No matter what hot mess got us to this place…whether our own mess, messes we inherited, or messes that just are…may we, if even only in the space of deep knowing that resides in our dreams, recognize that we are surrounded and immersed in God’s presence and promise of blessing for the blessing of the whole world. May we awake to the truth that God is in this place in ways we did not know before.

Abraham & Isaac

This week’s bible text that goes with this sermon can be viewed at https://bible.oremus.org/?ql=499148797

"Abraham and Isaac," John August Swanson. Image © by John August Swanson. Artwork held in the Luther Seminary Fine Arts Collection, St. Paul, Minn.

I wonder how this sacred story makes you feel. I wonder what it stirs up in you.This is the kind of story that can’t help but illicit strong gut reactions and I want to start by taking time to notice what’s going on with us when we hear it. Cuz honestly nothing I’m going to say externally is going to trump what’s happening internally with you. So I invite you to just take a moment to breathe and notice what your body and soul are up to right now. Just one more note before we take a second to do this. As you take stock of yourself, I invite you to withhold any judgement you may be tempted to place on your reaction.  At least for this moment, let go of what you think you should or shouldn’t be thinking or feeling, the idea that a particular reaction is bad or unfaithful...just practice noticing without assigning value.

…..

I wonder if your muscles instinctively tighten under your skin, perhaps in defence, perhaps in anger, perhaps a bit of both.  I wonder if your senses and your brain seem to have suddenly shut down so that you’re not thinking or feeling anything. I wonder if you feel a tinge of jealousy toward Abraham who, however misguided, seems to have an intense intimacy and an ability to trust God in ways that feel impossible for you. I wonder if you are repulsed by the mention of faith anywhere near a story like this.

Oh I definitely have thoughts and feelings about it. Part of the reason I feel the way I do isn’t just an innate sense of ethics, but because I’ve borne witness to far too many stories where violence and cruelty are justified by a sense of divine mandate and even blessing. It gets to me because it opens up the can of worms of other sacred stories where God seems to ordain destruction. This story feels deeply troubling, especially when laid onto a local backdrop where children are being put at risk for severe illness and death with a “faith over fear” justification. And then I start to feel annoyed that God has called me to work where I’m expected to answer for or explain such problematic situations. Plenty of folks want pastors to spin gold from this straw, but in my experience rose-colored theology doesn’t hold up.

What is God up to here? What kind of person is Abraham? Or Sarah, Issac’s mother? Why is this happening? Is there something we’re missing? What is being lifted up in this story? How can a God, who is Love, be involved here? And who would want to follow such a God? Make it make sense.

As I study this text and seek to understand, and read the wisdom of scholars before me...there are perhaps as many different understandings and explanations as there are stars in the sky. Seemingly inexhaustible amounts of ink have been spilled trying to navigate the complexities before us and their possible significance . Generation upon generation upon generation has wondered at this particular chapter of God’s story. I’m still not sure if I’m comforted or disturbed by the fact that we are not the first ones to wrestle with this story’s meaning, to ask questions of it.  But perhaps the questions….may be part of the point.

Abraham has certainly asked questions of God before, even argued with God’s commands. When God promises Abram and Sarai endless descendants, they ask how can this be since they are old and still childless? They even laugh at the ridiculousness of God’s word. When God announces the downfall of the exploitative and unjust cities of Sodom and Gomorrah, Abraham argues with God to be who God has promised and been shown to be...merciful and redemptive. One interpreter suggests a sort of Jewish lens of reading scripture in which we examine the space between the lines of Genesis 22.It may be that the narrator intends that the reader, having learned from Abraham in Genesis 18 how to question God, is now the one to ask the questions on this occasion.

In response to question of “who would want to join a faith that seems so callous?”, Old Testament scholar, Ellen F. Davis poses this possibility:

“The point of this story is not to make people want to believe in Abraham’s God, who is of course also Jesus’ God and Father. Rather, this harrowing story exists to help people who already believe make sense of their most difficult experience, when God seems to take back everything they have ever received at God’s hand. In other words, the Holy Spirit and the heavenly Council would tell me the point is not to draw people in but rather to help people who are already in stay in -- stay in relationship with the one true God, even when their world turns upside down.

This story appears front and center in Genesis, where no reader of the Bible can miss it, because the hard truth is that the world turns upside down for the faithful more often than we like to admit.”

She continues:

“I remember the words of my young friend, a devout Roman Catholic, just a few hours after his first child had died in birth, strangled by her umbilical cord: “I could say, ‘Why me?’ But why not me? I knew this happens to people, and it never made me doubt God before. So why should I doubt God now? But still, I do not understand.”

The 22nd chapter of Genesis is the place you go when you do not understand at all what God allows us to suffer and, it seems, asks us to bear -- and the last thing you want is a reasonable explanation, because any reasonable explanation would be a mockery of your anguish.

This story of Abraham and God and Isaac is the place you go when you are out beyond anything you thought could or would happen, beyond anything you imagined God would ever ask of you, when the most sensible thing to do might be to deny that God exists at all, or to deny that God cares at all, or to deny that God has any power at all. That would be sensible, except you can’t do it, because you are so deep into relationship with God that to deny all that would be to deny your own heart and soul and mind.

To deny God any meaningful place in your life would be to deny your own existence. And so you are stuck with your pain and your incomprehension, and the only way to move at all is to move toward God, to move more deeply into this relationship that we call faith. That is what Abraham does. Without comprehension, nearly blinded by the horror of what he was told to do, Abraham follows God’s lead, for the simple and sufficient reason that it is God who is leading. To what end, Abraham has no idea.

It is quite common for theologians to hold up Abraham as a model of unquestioning obedience to God, but I think this is misleading, and possibly even damaging to Abraham’s character. After all, obedience is a virtue only if it serves a just cause. Obedience in service of an unjust cause is servile, cowardly, even criminal. … If it is purely out of obedience that Abraham submits to God’s command, then his willingness to submit is monstrous.

But there is another option.

What if Abraham follows God’s command, not out of obedience, but out of faith -- which is to say, what if Abraham trusts God, even now, when what God asks of him seems to run counter to everything God has promised? (For the child Abraham is called to sacrifice is the child through whom God’s promise of blessing is meant to unfold.)

It is trust, not obedience, that binds Abraham to God.”

The context of trust, of that kind of relationship formed over time, after all God and Abraham have walked through together, casts a different light on the idea of this episode as a “test.”

We read in verse 1, “After these things God tested Abraham.” Neither God nor Abraham say that this episode is a test, only the narrator. But “test”…. Is an interesting word.  One I hear often in time of unknowable challenge, that “God is testing you.” A test conjures up images of grade school in which you can either pass or fail. It can evoke the feeling of being tricked – where your innate responses and assumption are used against you in pursuit of a nearly impossible solution. But “to test” can also mean to probe, to delve deeply into discovery, to know, to uncover truth.

When you test a ship’s seaworthiness the goal is not to sink the ship, or even cause it undue distress, but to know its boundaries, and capabilities, to identify small leaks, areas that might be tweaked before going farther into the ocean. To know a thing is to build trust in it, to strengthen the relationship between two things. Perhaps this is an experience that serves to strengthen Abraham’s trust in God’s promises, even amidst all that seems to run counter to those promises.

Abraham knows God to be life-giver, as one who provides possibilities out of impossibility, as one who doesn’t not abandon or overlook. In the cross of Christ, God becomes the One and only beloved to carry the wood for the fire, the weight of suffering, but also the lamb of impossible possibilities.

When we are in a spot that doesn’t make any sense, when the world’s cruelty and heartache seem to ask more of us than we want to be a part of….what we thought we knew may be shaken, tested, even ultimately unraveled.  And yet what emerges from the brambles...draws on what was already deeply true while also creating a new saving ways of being in the world and with the divine. I wonder when we approach the crucibles of our own lives….what emerges as a core knowing we can lean on?

Creation Myth Busters

This week’s bible text that goes with this sermon can be viewed at https://bible.oremus.org/?ql=498546547

"The Creation of God" by Harmonia Rosales

On my birthday every summer, after we’ve had a good meal, and as the queso and strawberry pie has us feeling content and full… the celebration usually settles into family and friends lingering over stories and laughter.  You know…that space where the party is kinda over, but those closest to you aren’t really in a hurry to leave and you just get to lounge without any pretention and just BE together.  It’s usually in that space that my parents inevitably get to talking about the story of my birth. Does anyone else family do this? But the story never really starts AT the moment I’m born, most of it is about what came before.  I was my mother’s first pregnancy and by the time July in Houston came around, she was ready for me to be outta there. One time she thought she was going into labor, so they hustled to the hospital only to be sent home to wait a bit longer. To try and encourage labor, but also get out of the summer heat, she’d walk laps around Northwest Mall.  When she again felt as though the time had come, dad drove the car to the hospital and playfully says that the city’s potholes offered a few more encouraging bounces. And this time, they left the hospital with little 8 lbs, 6 oz. me.

 Mine is not a particularly incredible birth story, but we still tell it year after year. The telling is almost a ritual of sorts. We’ve become parents who do the same thing with our child, telling Marley Rose the story of how we got the news she would be arriving a bit early, a bit small.  

The doctor was ready to induce that afternoon, but we asked to have one more day…so we could make one last Target run for teeny tiny diapers. We tell her how the name of our delivery nurse – Karley Rose – seemed like a divine sign that settled our back and forth about the choice of middle name. We tell her that she was born an hour before game 5 of the first world series in Texas, when we were hoping the Rangers would clench it but it was not to be. We tell her about all the people that came to see her and hold her in those first hours.

Why do we tell these stories? Sure, I’m fairly sentimental and it’s a day I enjoy remembering, but I wonder….why do we tell it the way we do, choosing the highlights that we do? What purpose does telling this story serve? What would I hope my child gets out of this story? Perhaps I hope she sees the humanity of her parents who were nervous. I hope she notices that the people who help you, like nurses, matter and a worthy of notice and gratitude. I hope she hears the satisfying crack of a homerun baseball and it makes her heart leap like ours do. I hope she can feel the embrace of the wide community, blood family and chosen family, beloved cousins and honorary aunts that have cared for her since the beginning and supports her still.

It’s actually not a bad approach for reading the bible either. When we hold this library of stories, millennia old, that have passed through so many voices and hands, gone through a plethora of translations…this imperfect yet holy manuscript that has somehow made it through time and place…

As we approach any part of this sacred story we can ask, why is this here? Of all the things to include, why this? And why has it lasted generation after generation? What purpose does it serve? What does it tell us about who and how and why God is?

Family systems therapy knows that the stories told about our beginnings continue to shape us, consciously or unconsciously.  They affect how we see ourselves and the world.  Whether our family origin stories are positive or negative, it sticks with us. It’s important work to know what they are and how it impacts us because we’re likely retelling that story to ourselves in some way or bound to repeat the elements of that story for better or worse if we’re not reflecting on it.

Superheroes and villains always have origin stories that don’t just explain HOW they came to be, but also WHY they are the way they are.  It’s not always a birth story, but some threshold moment of beginning that also reveals aspects of their values and motivations and functioning.

Genesis is the origin story of creation, including humanity, but also the origin of God’s role and identity among these things. We aren’t going to have time to get into ALL the things this story may point to, but there are a couple core things I want us to explore.

The first, is that to better understand any story we have to know what KIND of story it is. We don’t read a news article the same way we read a romance novel and we don’t read poetry the same as a history textbook. The bible is a library or various books and authors, and has just as many sections and literary tools. What we heard today in Genesis 1 follows the pattern of poetic lore. It’s written in the style of epic myth. The rhythm and imagery and language and scale…it’s not the kind of thing that makes up historical record. It’s not trying to be a scientific explanation for the cosmos and so isn’t actually at odds with what science has and is discovering about our universe.

 But these elements and even some key similarities existed within other creation myths from the time and place that Genesis comes from.  The Mesopotamian creation myth called the Enuma Elish also tells of giving order to chaos, separating earth and sky and waters, where the very body of the Goddess Tiamat is divided to form the fertile landscape of creation. However, in the Babylonian tale, the story of creation is tied up in a story of the pantheon of gods conniving against and harming each other, where creation is born out of cosmic animosity and humanity’s purpose is pretty bleak. 

The way that these stories are both similar and distinct is part of the story Genesis tells.  What’s different about the way THIS creation is formed and relates to God as opposed to other stories that make claims about who we are, how we are related to the earth, its inhabitants, and to the divine? Not only back then but also now?

We know that it’s not the one and only ultimate story of beginning even within Christian tradition because immediately in Genesis 2, we get another telling of creation that has a significantly different perspective. I put this out here first because for some folks these differences are grounds to discredit every other word that comes after.  The modern worldview has convinced us that the only thing that ultimately matters is empirical data, but I think in our bones we know that theirs is also substantial meaning in things beyond what can be contained by facts and figures.

Just because it is understood as a myth doesn’t make it untrue or untrustworthy. In fact, insisting that it function as something it’s not…as historical document, does more to discredit the story than most anything else. Embracing this word for what it is can actually enrich our faith, not because we put our trust in something that doesn’t make logical sense to explain unexplainable things, but because it allows us to navigate something deeply true.

The poet, pastor, and theologian Frederick Buechner wrote that:

“the raw material of myth, like the raw material of a dream, may be something that actually happened once. But myths, like dreams, do not tell us much about that kind of actuality. The creation of Adam and Eve, the Tower of Babel, Oediupus – they do not tell us primarily about events.  The tell us about ourselves.  In popular usage, a myth has come to mean a story that is not true.  Historically speaking, that may well be so.  Humanly speaking, a myth is a story that is always true.”

One purpose of this mythical style of writing is to point toward something, some truth, even more expansive that what words can hold. Again, this text is so rich that there are a great many things to reflect on in this way. But there’s one that that gets repeated over and over in this story, so it must be particularly important. The refrain at the end of each stanza, the mantra that establishes the rhythm of creation is this: God speaks into being, God looks at the fullness before her, and God knows “it is good.” It is good. It is good. It is good. It is good. It is good. It is very good.

God enters as a wind hovering over the waters. The feminine Hebrew word ruach which can mean wind or spirit or breath, the kind of deep breath that comes from the gut which is necessary to even say this creative word.  God is enveloped in with even more feminine imagery as She hovers which is also translated as broods like a mother, nesting over waters at the birth of the world . It begins with an expression of the feminine within the divine and it is good. God creates and looks at distinct parts of the whole and says that difference does not inherently destroy, it too is good. God creates both never-ending sky and the intimate swirls of human skin and says it is good. God creates shoreline and twilight, spaces of existence between and beyond one distinct category and says it is good. The act of rest is set as a holy one. It isn’t a sign of failure, but an essential part of this narrative of goodness. It is good. It is good. It is good. It is good. It is good. It is very good. Not perfect, but good. God’s primary and persistent way of speaking about creation, about us, from the beginning….is one of blessing.

There is another mythology of creation which is in contrast to this. One that says our brokenness is more prevalent than our blessing. That our starting place is depravity. That we, as humans, are fundamentally at odds with goodness. THIS story, called Original Sin, does not show up in Genesis, but in the 4th century from a man named St. Augustine, who was faithful and good and gave significant wisdom to the early church, but also struggled with his own seemingly insurmountable temptation. That story can sometimes feel like truth when we get stuck by what we fear are the worst parts of ourselves. It’s what the disease of depression and addiction and shame try to scream over the voice of the One who first and foremost and forever declares us good.

Which is perhaps an even more compelling reason, alongside therapy and care and appropriate medication, for us to tell this story of Original Blessing, this story of Genesis again and again and again, and to wonder at our place within it. This is a story of the holy which extends throughout an expansive creation.  It is a story of goodness that grounds all things. It is a story that lives in us, as close as our very breath – a ripple of the first holy breath, still creating.

God blessed them, and God said to them, “Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it; and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the air and over every living thing that moves upon the earth.”

God said, “See, I have given you every plant yielding seed that is upon the face of all the earth, and every tree with seed in its fruit; you shall have them for food. 

Fruit and seed and well-being. God created a world in which, inside every living thing is the potential for further creation and care. This isn’t just about the procreation of babies, and cycles of agriculture. That seems too narrow for a God who has already shown an expansive way of being. Perhaps it points to holy creation that isn’t only something that happened once upon a time, but is still unfolding and invites US to be a part of this nourishing work. God speaks and in so doing, creates new possibilities.  What then, do our words create? How do the stories we tell ourselves and others, the language we use, and the landscape they set…. shape a world in line with this ancient truth of expansive, enduring, and intimate goodness and blessing?

God's Chosen Family of Care

Mark 3:20-35

20and the crowd came together again, so that they could not even eat. 21When his family heard it, they went out to restrain him, for people were saying, “He has gone out of his mind.” 22And the scribes who came down from Jerusalem said, “He has Beelzebul, and by the ruler of the demons he casts out demons.” 23And he called them to him, and spoke to them in parables, “How can Satan cast out Satan? 24If a kingdom is divided against itself, that kingdom cannot stand. 25And if a house is divided against itself, that house will not be able to stand. 26And if Satan has risen up against himself and is divided, he cannot stand, but his end has come. 27But no one can enter a strong man’s house and plunder his property without first tying up the strong man; then indeed the house can be plundered.

28“Truly I tell you, people will be forgiven for their sins and whatever blasphemies they utter; 29but whoever blasphemes against the Holy Spirit can never have forgiveness, but is guilty of an eternal sin”— 30for they had said, “He has an unclean spirit.”

31Then his mother and his brothers came; and standing outside, they sent to him and called him. 32A crowd was sitting around him; and they said to him, “Your mother and your brothers and sisters are outside, asking for you.” 33And he replied, “Who are my mother and my brothers?” 34And looking at those who sat around him, he said, “Here are my mother and my brothers! 35Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.”

Have you ever watched someone you care about get into something new, some new interest or hobby or fandom or relationship and what seems like all of a sudden they just go really hard and it takes over their entire lives and it’s the only thing they ever want to talk about anymore? And you’re not quite sure whether to be happy for them or concerned, especially if it’s some super-exciting thing that you’ve enever even heard of before or seems kinda...fantastical and extreme? And so you, from your point of view, are just kinda keeping an eye on things to figure out where this passion an unhealthy obsession or maybe it’s them finally connecting with the things that make them light up in life. 

It’s a tough line to dance sometimes. And it’s difficult...perhaps even unatural...to see and hear something wildly different from what we’ve known, and not have serious questions and concerns.

Something’s up with Jesus. Even his family, those who are supposed to be nearest and dearest, are worried that something’s wrong with him, that he has become lost from himself, that he has lost control of himself and needs to be restrained for his own good. The powerful religious authorities, the scribes, see this and identify the problem within him as Beezelbub - the name they’ve given to an outsider God  - Ba’al Zelbub - which translates to Lord of the flies, a divine authority that brings and follows death and decay.

So they are saying that the king of kings is actually the demon of demons.  In the baptismal liturgy of the Lutheran church, we ask the baptized to renounce Satan, all the forces that defy God, the powers of the world that rebel against God, and the ways of sin that draw you from God. So what they’re essentially saying that what Jesus is up to, and why it’s so dangerous and needs to be stopped, is in defiance of God and so, actually in service to evil. They’re worried someone is going to get hurt and that what he’s doing will only bring about death and destruction.

Jesus IS breaking things down...but it’s not life and goodness and community, only the half-life we’ve been convinced is safest and best.

So this got me wondering...What did Jesus do to raise this concern?  What could he possibly have gotten into within just 3 chapters of Gospel text to cause such powerful rejection?  I flipped through the previous pages of my bible to see that Jesus in these earliest days of his minitsry, he has been busy healing the sick, casting OUT demons, and restoring people to themselves and to their communities. 

Who can do these impossible things? Who can actually make an impact over the evils that have plagued humanity for eons? Who can and would disrupt the fabric of the world? More often than not, in our experiences of empire...it’s always a bigger badder superpower that doesn’t ultimately liberate but just trades one evil for another, even if it looks shiny at first. Not much has changed since the garden, we still worry about how to tell the difference between good and evil so we can be safe.

I can sympathize...when healing and wholeness seems so impossible, when we hurt so badly and have worked so hard to adapt ourselves for survival that returning to health now seems suspicious. When we’ve become so used to the way things are, that even life-giving alternatives seem dangerous, immoral, and even demonic.

But Jesus unravels this. His argument is essentially reflected in a sermon from Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King , Jr. where he famously said, “hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that.” Jesus HAS come to dislodge and dismantle other systems of power - ones that isolate and abandon, demean and exploit. But Jesus does so in order to usher in something new, something that actually bears life upon life.

What Jesus calls enduring sin, that which draws us away from God and the reality of God’s ways...is that which can only see such life as dangerous or as death. That which can not recognize God’s goodness, even when it is standing before them, and actively defies or works against it. It is not only to miss the work of the Holy Spirit but to undermine that work. It is that which resists and rejects restoration and calls it evil. Jesus cautions with the same words of the Spirit we hear in Acts: do not call anything impure that God has made clean.” God has made these things clean, so don’t call them “unholy.”

Instead, be called family - a family that isn’t only defined by biological relationship but being a part of this kind of holy life in community. Jesus says, “Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.” And so, perhaps God’s family looks more like a chosen family of misfits, bound together by holy love more than anything else. Perhaps God’s family looks like you. As we look at Jesus to understand what IS the will of God we are called to do and be...we see the will of God as healing and care and liberation in community, and it comes into being by everyone who comes to be a part of it.

You, as God’s family to me, as God’s +KINDRED, have given me this coming season of sabbatical for my healing and care and restoration. Even as I will be absent from you in body, withdrawn from my role as Pastor among you, I know we are both held in this Spirit of care for one another. I am not worried about how you will be a part of the will of God while I am away.  I worry about Kinnon chopping off a finger in the food truck, but I do not worry about who and how you will be, because I know that you are well-practiced in caring for each other and in quickly inviting anyone you encounter to become a part of that care. I am reminded by Christ’s promises that the source of this care isn’t a Pastor or any other set role, but a shared way of being anchored in God.

YOU are to be sources of healing and restoration for each other. Check in with each other, text each other with good news, ask each other for help when you need it, share information about that workshop or rally that sounds interesting or important and gather together to grow, invite each other to a day at the beach or a walk in the park, go with each other to  brunch or a show, be on the look out for who is getting left out or trampled on and place yourself beside them.

This summer I pray and I know that with God’s grace....that you will hold each other, tell the beloved truth about each other, and remind people about the truth of God’s love for them and in them. Amen. 

What am I looking at?

John 3:1-17

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

“Holy Trinity” by Mishou Sanchez

Between the pandemic and these particularly rainy days, our family has had a lot of time to sit indoors and create. Even with all the chaos, our lives have also been fairly packed with structure of all the things that still somehow need to get done - the cats fed, the forms filled out, the dinner decisions made, the reminders to text that person to ask about that thing. We find ourselves longing for some space where things are a little more free-flowing and open-ended, where life feels less prescribed and we can hold ourselves a little lighter, a little more loosely. For me, that space is in cultivating my garden. For my kiddo, it’s Legos and Minecraft. 

She sits on the couch, laying brick after brick, rows and layers of color and shape. She builds entire worlds that are connected to each other. These things she creates are more than lifeless backdrops, they are elements of a story that she’s telling, that’s unfolding as it’s built. It’s a story she’s bursting to share as she calls out, “mommy, come look.”  

The other day she showed me this incredible colorful pyramid she made.  It looked like something blooming on the edge of an island filled with lush trees.  It was beautiful...but I wasn’t quite sure what it was. In my mind, it could be a cool giant tent, a temple of some kind, or maybe . But none of those were actually what she intended it to be. I want to see it as she sees it.  I want to understand what she means to show me. So whenever she shows me something wonderful that she’s made, and I’m not quite sure how to interpret it, I say… “tell me about what I’m looking at.” I’m often surprised by what I was missing. Even if I got the main idea, there’s always more to it than I had perceived. 

Nicodemus comes to Jesus by night trying to make sense of what he has seen. The gospel writer uses the setting as part of the story, with the shadows of evening reflecting the shadows that keep us from seeing clearly or understanding fully. Nicodemus has seen Jesus do incredible signs and wonders that he knows are only possible with and through God. But he’s not sure what to do with that. He comes to Jesus, curious and perhaps a bit cautious, and it feels a lot like a moment of, “What am I looking at?” Nicodemus has perceived something...something powerful...something holy... and is trying to understand it. 

Because there’s a difference between knowing something, even seeing something, and understanding it. Even more so when that understanding would open us up to the infinite, to heavenly things. This section of the Gospel of John has sometimes been used to make being born again and “whosoever believes in Jesus” about “getting in” rather than getting out of the ways that keep us stuck, shrouded, and cut off. IF you check these boxes, THEN you get God’s goodness. It can become just one more way that we prescribe faith and reduce it to what we already can wrap our minds around rather than let it invite us into altogether new ways of living now and forever.

But how can we possibly enter into a holy mystery that is bigger than anything we can comprehend?

I think Jesus is trying to show how God meets us in that mystery by entering into the world in ways we CAN comprehend, at least in part. 

All of us learn and grow in different ways and surely our Creator knows this about us. Some of us learn best by seeing, some by the words of others, some by touching and experiencing, some by moving and doing, some by the silence and stillness left between these things. I’ve found that this can even change and shift through our different stages of life or in different circumstances.Just as we come to understand in different ways, we also experience God differently through different things. Jesus speaks as Christ the redeemer and points to the Creator who gives life with water and flesh, and the Spirit which animates and leaves room for the unknown. These things, intertwined, enmeshed, integrated, not one over the other, are God’s being. Jesus is God. The Creator is God. The Spirit is God. They are all the same God.Whenever we speak of Jesus, we also speak of the Creator.  Whenever we speak of the Spirit, we also speak of Jesus. They are One fully and completely, and yet are like a prism which refracts light differently at different angles. And yet even that image can not contain the fullness of who and how God is. 

There will always be a limit even to what we can truly understand.  There’s only so much of an infinite God that you can fit into finite story and experience, even when Jesus Godself is trying to explain it.  And all that to say, I think you can give yourself a break if you don’t “get it” or you don’t know quite what to make of what you see and hear, or if you’re not quite sure what to do with God for a time. You are in good and holy and beloved company. Holy mystery is both frustrating and liberating. There will always be holy things beyond what we can hold, but we also aren’t expected to master them in order to be given God’s saving love.

The only reason I even bother to delve into such mysterious waters and probably commit heresy along the way, is because I deeply long to understand and even embrace what I perceive about God too. A three-in-one, trinitarian God whose very nature is community, is relationship, diversity, and movement...gives us space, creates an opening for us to be more fully who we are with our uniqueness, complexity, and mystery. They draw us close to God’s goodness in this swirl of being. Christ, Spirit, Creator...opens the way for both knowing and unknowing and holding these multiple things together...loosely enough so that they can move and grow and dance together.

Jesus, Creator, Spirit points to God’s kingdom as one that opens up the way to a new kind of life, everlasting life, enduring plentiful life, or what one of my professors translated as “life of the age.” Not only for individuals one by one, but for the whole world. 

I wonder what “life of the age” would look like for you? 

Jesus speaks of a life where flesh and Spirit dance together, where we are born of both water AND spirit. He’s not speaking only of the ritual of baptism, but the waters of the womb. This is a life where our bodies and our souls are made whole together. Being born is an expansive act. Life of the age unfolds when we no longer try to cut our being into pieces and compartmentalize self and communities, but leave room for our grand wholeness to to be revealed, even if it’s messy or unclear. 

What I think Jesus is trying to say, or what Mothering God is stirring up in my heart, or perhaps what the Spirit seems to be whispering in my ear is that...one can not embrace the fullness of God’s being without fully embracing themselves.  I just had this conversation on Thursday on the porch. I asked her permission to share about our meeting. I sat out here at my little table on a sunny day with our flags blowing in the breeze, with my little rainbow signs that says, “The Pastor is in” when someone walked up to say they had noticed these curious things. “What am I looking at?” she says. We began to talk about who we understand ourselves to be and how we understand God to be present with us. She shared that before she transitioned as a transgender woman, she would have described herself as agnostic - God was out there, but they may or may not have had much to do with her. After transitioning, she found that once she began to live into the fullness of who she is, she began to experience a closeness with God in ways she hadn’t before. 

We know God and God’s goodness more fully, by becoming more fully ourselves, who God created us to be...not only individually but in community….with all our complexities and mystery, and our bodies and our soul. This is a good time to reflect on who we really are and how we are and how we long to be, what is important for us to hold on to, what is ready to be let go, to get back in tune with who God has created us to be. For God in this way loves you, loves Y’ALL, loves the whole wide world...that God has entered fully into the world in every way, beyond what we can fathom, and through that grace we can live beyond the stuck places and into a kind of life that fills us up and lasts. Amen. 

Grace for the Scorched

 Acts 2:1-21

When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place. 2And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. 3Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. 4All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability.

5Now there were devout Jews from every nation under heaven living in Jerusalem. 6And at this sound the crowd gathered and was bewildered, because each one heard them speaking in the native language of each. 7Amazed and astonished, they asked, “Are not all these who are speaking Galileans? 8And how is it that we hear, each of us, in our own native language? 9Parthians, Medes, Elamites, and residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, 10Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya belonging to Cyrene, and visitors from Rome, both Jews and proselytes, 11Cretans and Arabs—in our own languages we hear them speaking about God’s deeds of power.” 12All were amazed and perplexed, saying to one another, “What does this mean?” 13But others sneered and said, “They are filled with new wine.”

14But Peter, standing with the eleven, raised his voice and addressed them, “Men of Judea and all who live in Jerusalem, let this be known to you, and listen to what I say. 15Indeed, these are not drunk, as you suppose, for it is only nine o’clock in the morning. 16No, this is what was spoken through the prophet Joel: 17‘In the last days it will be, God declares, that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams. 18Even upon my slaves, both men and women, in those days I will pour out my Spirit; and they shall prophesy. 19And I will show portents in the heaven above and signs on the earth below, blood, and fire, and smoky mist. 20The sun shall be turned to darkness and the moon to blood, before the coming of the Lord’s great and glorious day. 21Then everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved.’

 When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place. I really miss that. I can’t decide if it’s better or worse these days when we can begin to gather again, but it’s always tempered with contingencies and still incomplete. When even our being together reminds and reflects the ways things have been torn apart. When we hold joy and each other at an arm’s length because we’ve learned how fragile and fraught those connections can be. When even inspiring experiences are tinged with lingering heartache. It’s rough, even when I try to convince myself otherwise.

I try to bolster myself by remembering that those who received the Spirit that day in Jerusalem, were also probably reeling with a mix of grief and hopefulness after the resurrected Christ had gone and the way they related to God and each other would never be the same, while at the same time they sat there waiting to know the mysterious Spirit that Jesus promised would be there. I can only imagine living in that space between, but I feel like now I can relate in ways I didn’t before. Looking to the horizon, wondering….Where do we go from here? What are we even supposed to be looking for? How will we know She is here? 

Some days I feel confident in my anticipation and knowing, other days I feel like I have no freaking clue. 

I wanted to offer you insightful wisdom today. I had this lovely thesis written about how the Spirit connects, and inspires, and moves...and I DO believe that to be true, but my heart just isn’t up to saying those things today when I’m feeling disconnected, stale, and stagnant. I wanted to explain the beauty of this wild and free Spirit of God that draws together visions and dreams, young and old, past and present, and lay out the many ways we can understand Her life-giving presence and power, to delve into Her awesome mystery, but….it feels hollow on my tongue tonight. Some days the Spirit seems clear and palpable…like a loud, rushing wind, and others...like a still steamy silent swamp.  

Honestly, today, I don’t know where the Spirit comes from, not really, or where She goes or how She moves...but sometimes I can tell that She has been by here, perhaps like the wind which I can not see or hold, but know by the rustling of tree leaves, and even the scattered branches left on the ground. All I know is that in my experience, when I’m at the end of myself, that’s often where the Spirit becomes most evident, filling in the gaps that I don’t know what to do with, lending Her wholeness to things that are still fractured. Certainly I also feel the power of the Holy Spirit abiding in me in times when I feel most fully myself, and deeply connected to others, and fired up for the world, but perhaps, for today...being able to speak of the place where unknowing, grief, and holiness meet, and not rushing to tie up the loose ends blowing in the air is evidence of Her work in me, because it is beyond what I would do on my own.

I wonder what She is saying or moving in you if we created space to listen and feel?

After all, the miracle of Pentecost is not only that people spoke, but also that people heard.

I want to invite you to take a moment to be still, breathe deep, and release yourself into the deep well of your being and just notice what you notice there. 

Breathe in deeply this wind that hovered over the waters of creation. Let loose the constricted and conflicted knots from your belly.  Notice how it feels through your nostrils...is the air warm? Cool? Does it carry the scent of fresh rain? Notice how it feels passing across your tongue as you breathe out. Notice how this divine breath fills and expands in your body and then returns to the world, spreading out from your mouth. Continue to breathe and wonder and be. We’ll spend a couple minutes here and the sound of the chime will call us back together. You don’t need to strain for some miraculous meaning, simply attend and let yourself be aware of God as Spirit with you as you are.

……..

……..

……..

This Past weekend, we gathered online for Synod Assembly to tend to our shared work of church and one of the speakers, Peggy Hahn said,  “one way I know it’s the Holy Spirit is when I tell others what I’m hearing, they hear it too.” What did you notice? What did you hear? Feel? Who is someone you can share that with?
When the day of Pentecost had come, SOMETHING joined them in that messy space, something holy and whole and alive. Together, through the ancient words of prophets, through diverse community, and in the depths of their own hearts...they begin to recognize this as the presence and work of the Holy Spirit. 

The Spirit arrives on the wind which can rush and swirl, yet it is the same gentle wind that draws close to our own lungs and into our molecules.  She is as intimate as our own breath even as She spreads out to fill the whole space and lingers like static in the air so thick with energy it seems to spark a fire whose flames lick at the core of their being and settles there. She moves like fire which can roar and consume, but also simmers even among faint embers. 

I don’t know what that is like for you or what it will birth, but I know that SOMETHING holy is stirring within you and beyond you, and in the spaces between.

As you go from here, I offer this blessing from the word of Jan Richardson, “The Grace that Scorches Us”

Here’s one thing
you must understand
about this blessing:
it is not
for you alone.

It is stubborn
about this.
Do not even try
to lay hold of it
if you are by yourself,
thinking you can carry it
on your own.

To bear this blessing,
you must first take yourself
to a place where everyone
does not look like you
or think like you,
a place where they do not
believe precisely as you believe,
where their thoughts
and ideas and gestures
are not exact echoes
of your own.

Bring your sorrow.
Bring your grief.
Bring your fear.
Bring your weariness,
your pain,
your disgust at how broken
the world is,
how fractured,
how fragmented
by its fighting,
its wars,
its hungers,
its penchant for power,
its ceaseless repetition
of the history it refuses
to rise above.

I will not tell you
this blessing will fix all that.

But in the place
where you have gathered,
wait.
Watch.
Listen.
Lay aside your inability
to be surprised,
your resistance to what you
do not understand.

See then whether this blessing
turns to flame on your tongue,
sets you to speaking
what you cannot fathom

or opens your ear
to a language
beyond your imagining
that comes as a knowing
in your bones,
a clarity
in your heart
that tells you

this is the reason
we were made:
for this ache
that finally opens us,

for this struggle,
this grace
that scorches us
toward one another
and into
the blazing day.

—Jan Richardson
from “Circle of Grace: A Book of Blessings for the Seasons”

What Grounds and Guides Us Now?

Galatians 3:1-9, 23-29

1 You foolish Galatians! Who has bewitched you? It was before your eyes that Jesus Christ was publicly exhibited as crucified! 2 The only thing I want to learn from you is this: Did you receive the Spirit by doing the works of the law or by believing what you heard? 3 Are you so foolish? Having started with the Spirit, are you now ending with the flesh? 4 Did you experience so much for nothing?—if it really was for nothing. 5 Well then, does God supply you with the Spirit and work miracles among you by your doing the works of the law, or by your believing what you heard? 6 Just as Abraham "believed God, and it was reckoned to him as righteousness," 7 so, you see, those who believe are the descendants of Abraham. 8 And the scripture, foreseeing that God would justify the Gentiles by faith, declared the gospel beforehand to Abraham, saying, "All the Gentiles shall be blessed in you." 9 For this reason, those who believe are blessed with Abraham who believed.

23 Now before faith came, we were imprisoned and guarded under the law until faith would be revealed. 24 Therefore the law was our disciplinarian until Christ came, so that we might be justified by faith. 25 But now that faith has come, we are no longer subject to a disciplinarian, 26 for in Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith. 27 As many of you as were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. 28 There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus. 29 And if you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham's offspring, heirs according to the promise.

I wonder what comes to mind for you when you hear the word disciplinarian? What do you picture? I wonder how you feel about hearing a people being called foolish? 

Perhaps having these words so close together takes your heart and mind back to schoolyard days or another time when maybe some harsh voice made you feel fearful or small. 

These cruel experiences we may have in our history are not what Paul claims God to be, not now nor in the past. But there are plenty Christians who DO see and speak of God as a kind of shaming taskmaster, and if we don’t reckon with or at least acknowledge our own stuff that inevitably comes up when we read a letter like this in Galatians, we are likely to get stuck in a similar understanding, to be bewitched by a spiritual culture that happily preys on our insecurities.

“Foolish” likely carries a weight of judgement in our ears, but the original word means something more like “misunderstanding.” In the same way that Jesus often spoke to the disciples, “do you still not understand?” Misunderstanding is simply part of human nature. I misunderstand all the time.  I had a meeting this past week where I totally misunderstood some of the expectations. I’m not dumb, we just didn’t line up in our thinking. 

Similarly, for this ancient context in which Paul is speaking, the word for disciplinarian probably means something different than what our modern minds picture.  Here it describes a household servant who walks children back and forth to school. Synonyms include “guide” and “custodian.” The word describes a very specific job of care that one’s charges outgrow. Until Christ came, and “before faith came”, the law served a custodial purpose. This law, these 10 commandments and the 613 total laws of the Torah...shaped the lives of Jews like Paul for generations. Paul describes a limited use for the law and then announces that its usefulness is past. The law functioned as someone who would accompany the vulnerable and protect them from harm...for a time. 

Like a parent who sets boundaries for their kids. Like a teacher, who establishes the rules of the classroom to create a shared culture of respect, one that would nurture life-giving values. These healthy structures exist to ground and guide us until the time comes when we grow or circumstances change that changes our relationship with those practices.

The pandemic has brought us to a similar wrestling with caring and careful practices, communal well-being, as the shifts of what is prescribed have unfolded and changed over time. “Don’t wear masks because medical staff need them.” “Ok, now you should wear masks, any mask, because it reduces the risk of spread to others.” “Actually, some styles and fabrics don’t work as well, it needs to meet this list  of things to truly be safe.” “don’t travel or go out anywhere.” “Stay 6 feet part.” “but maybe now kids don’t need to stay so far apart at school” And now we’re being told that once vaccinated, some of the rules we’ve pain-stakingly followed as a matter of life and death for the past 14 months can just….stop? 

Likely, we have some reckoning to do with this shift too. Each guidance was the best we could do for a time, to keep ourselves and others safe, to keep us one the right path as a people. It has required heartbreaking sacrifice and discipline, even deep tension in relationship, but it’s been the good and right thing to do. Even as CDC recommendations change yet again, there is still cause for caution. But... there is a time coming when the things we’ve relied on in this way will no longer serve the same purpose. If we don’t reckon with the fear and hurt we have picked up and may still carry from this past year or so, we will struggle to let go of these things as the way to be ultimately safe and enact a love for others.  We don’t have to do it immediately or overnight, it will likely take time and gentleness with ourselves, but it will be worth our while.

These practices have been one expression of underlying care, but we are ultimately grounded by the care and not the practice. And sometimes it takes divine grace to remember that.

The law once nurtured belief, but it was never the ultimate source of belief. This faith which reckons and redeems emanates only from God and extends to cover all time and all people.  We can look all the way back to Abraham and Sarah who were grafted into the tree of God's family through belief, not the law, and they were reckoned as righteous before their Creator. In the cross and the resurrection, God declares that not only will nothing stand between us and the love of God, but we are indeed intimately a part of God’s goodness, joined with God through deep familial relationship, named as God’s own children. Christ’s love is revealed to be so expansive as to cover and clothe us so that we are given Christ's own righteousness, God's own goodness. 

Christ's own faith and belief becomes fully and completely ours. So then even our faith is Christ's accomplishment and not our own. And by the same token, there is absolutely nothing we can do to mess it up. Ultimately it is this identity in Christ that endures beyond all others. 

It’s honestly a struggle to fully embrace this, to let go of the structures I rely on to feel right and good and instead to start from a place of promise that God already holds me as right and good. Often, I would rather return to the law for its clarity and for the way it allows me the illusion of control, especially when things feel out of control. The law also lets me be twistedly comforted by the idea that there will always be someone who is worse at the law than me. This is essentially what the Galatians have gotten stuck clinging too. They want to lean on the law as the ultimate marker of their identity, the preeminent way of being in relationship with God...but it inevitably leads to viewing other followers as lesser and is not the heart of who they are.

Paul insists that such division (and really hierarchy) have no place in an Easter church. It distorts the direction of righteousness as one that emanates from ourselves rather than from God. Christ has created a new way of being.

Paul essentially says, “think about it...think about when you’ve felt connected to God through the Spirit and the things that have resulted...think about when you’ve known true healing and wholeness, and power and wonder, and goodness, when you’ve seen these expand throughout the community…think about every time we’ve experienced it as the people of God through history...was it the result of our own performance or was there something beyond that?

It could only be God’s all-encompassing, all-surpassing love embodied in the resurrected Christ. This is what guards and guide us now, indeed what always has. This love is our starting place, over and above any practice. This is also who we are, children of God. And whoever you are, whatever else you may be called, this includes you!

Be rooted in this divine promise, that we are all one with God and so one with each other. One, not over and above. One, not separate but equal. One, not the same. The proclamation that there is “no longer  Jew nor Greek, male nor female” is not a declaration that we are to lose our distinctness, that we cease being different as God created us...but that our distinctions are no longer distorted in service to division. They no longer separate us or subjugate us. And so through the expansive embrace of faith through Christ, the source of our ultimate identity, we can celebrate and aim ourselves toward that which makes us a vibrant body of Christ together.

Perhaps you feel the strong tension between the world you see around you and the world envisioned in this way. Perhaps you sense the dissonance between this divine promise and what you see and experience in your own self or in news headlines. That struggle is real and I will not deny it. It can be daunting and debilitating. And yet, even in the midst of these things, we are still invited to be. To start from a place of who we are, and how much we are loved, not just what we can or can not do. We are invited to sit deeply in our identity before God, in our being, in our reckoning as righteous. 

And this, I find, strengthens us for resilience, for resistance, for daily resurrections. This Gospel breathes new life into us, ushers in the dawn of a new creation, and a new way of being. Amen.

Justified by Love

SACRED STORY – Galatians 2:11-21

11 But when Cephas came to Antioch, I opposed him to his face, because he stood self-condemned; 12for until certain people came from James, he used to eat with the Gentiles. But after they came, he drew back and kept himself separate for fear of the circumcision faction. 13And the other Jews joined him in this hypocrisy, so that even Barnabas was led astray by their hypocrisy. 14But when I saw that they were not acting consistently with the truth of the gospel, I said to Cephas before them all, ‘If you, though a Jew, live like a Gentile and not like a Jew, how can you compel the Gentiles to live like Jews?’ 15 We ourselves are Jews by birth and not Gentile sinners; 16yet we know that a person is justified not by the works of the law but through faith in Jesus Christ. And we have come to believe in Christ Jesus, so that we might be justified by faith in Christ, and not by doing the works of the law, because no one will be justified by the works of the law. 17But if, in our effort to be justified in Christ, we ourselves have been found to be 

sinners, is Christ then a servant of sin? Certainly not! 18But if I build up again the very things that I once tore down, then I demonstrate that I am a transgressor. 19For through the law I died to the law, so that I might live to God. I have been crucified with Christ; 20and it is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. 21I do not nullify the grace of God; for if justification comes through the law, then Christ died for nothing.

As a pastor, I’ve done a lot of listening and reflecting about why people do or don’t want to be a part of religion or communities of faith or God altogether. Maybe you have too. There are many different reasons, and often people have more than one that forms their understanding and practice. And there are honestly good and valid reasons why people DON’T want to be connected with Christianity or DON’T find value in the church or even see it as an actively destructive force in the world. So much harm has been done under the banner of Jesus. One of the ways that happens and so one of those reasons people want nothing to do with Jesus... is because of situations like the one in this text, where leaders of the church act in ways that are dis-aligned from the good news they preach and teach and commend to others. 

Now, I’ll be the first to say that church leaders are also human and mess up and can get it wrong. That doesn’t excuse any harm done and that alone can be enough to lead folks to walk away from all this God stuff. It’s so hurtful because our actions, especially of those who would speak publicly of God, are experienced as an extension of God's own. But what doubles down on that harm is often a lack of accountability for church leaders when those things happen, when other faithful people say nothing or try to minimize the consequences or even outright justify the harm done. 

And that’s it. That right there is the kicker - when we would rather justify ourselves than live out of our justification through Christ. That’s why Paul feels the need to confront the issue with Cephas, the Aramaic version of the Greek name Peter. 

Hypocrisy sucks, but that’s not even what makes this so dangerous. On the one hand, Peter trusts that God’s grace is sufficient, fully covering and embracing him and the Gentiles and their meals without requiring that they become something they’re not. His actions reveal this faith. On the other hand, Peter is willing to abandon that community and that Gospel in order to be seen as good and right, or even worse...as a false neutral in the eyes of other groups within the church. These actions reveal a different kind of belief - a persisting reliance on how well he can navigate or maneuver through potential conflict over and above God’s promise of wide embrace.

This back and forth isn’t the same as code-switching or adapting ourselves for the sake of safety or survival or community. Peter, the Rock of the Church, is in a position of authority. He’s not someone vulnerable in the same way as the marginalized people who shift their ways of being for the sake of ultimate goodness. AND his lack of clarity and consistency isn’t just about convenience, it serves to maintain his own power from a source of politics rather than the source of God’s goodness. AND because of his role as a leader and teacher, this thinking and practice has spread into the lives of others and corrupted their understanding of and witness to this way of Resurrection life. 

Paul’s critique isn’t even that Peter is inconsistent, but that his actions are inconsistent with the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Paul confronts Peter not to preserve Peter’s reputation or integrity, but to insist on the liberation of the Good News.

Peter’s words may proclaim that God’s love is boundless, but he is preaching with his actions that at the end of the day there’s still something else that dictates his being and the community of the faithful. The Gospel proclaims that we are no longer subject to anything but God’s love, and yet we still compromise by our actions in ways that would make us subject to systems that are not aligned to this promise. And often we do this for the sake of ease. We proclaim that we are free in Christ, but may still live as if we are subject to pressure that isn’t the Gospel. It’s the same false freedom offered by Empire - “you’re free...but not quite all the way. You will be loved and cared for...as long as you play our game our way.” Paul essentially asks the questions, “If you are still playing the game of empire, how do you expect others not to?” 

Still, I have great compassion for Peter. I can empathize with the fear that if we don’t get it right, we’ll be cast out or we’ll lose something significant. I, too, find myself functioning by the belief that if I stack the Jenga blocks just so, I will finally be secure or worthy of goodness, or at least eligible. And when you’re living like every ounce of love and acceptance must be earned...then everything becomes a hustle, a strategy, a way of living that requires segmenting and splicing your very own self rather than living as a whole holy person. This is what it looks like to be justified by the law - not that a grounded and guided way of being is bad...but constrained by a mindset that you are valued for your compliance rather than your being. It’s not what Jesus lived and died for. This isn’t what Resurrection life looks like.

I see this play out in our understandings and practices of allyship - of advocating for people and groups different than our own which face unjust exclusion. There’s one way of being an ally that focuses on learning all the right words and the “right” perspectives, and learning and valuing  vocabulary and viewpoints beyond your own is important. But sometimes there’s a part of our motivation in doing so that is fueled more by our fear of being wrong and excluded ourselves... than by love - when we want to get it right so that we’re not seen as the bad guy rather than the people we claim to care for have what they need. This would be performative allyship. But true allyship is about being present alongside and with and is set into motion by love. 

Faith should not be a life living in fear of, but with love for. This is the difference between getting it right for the benefits it offers you vs caring about others so much that you want to get it right for their sake not yours. 

Scripture reminds us that we love because God first loved us. And that’s the kind of justification that Paul is talking about here. Often in the church when people talk about being justified, they mean getting a belief or prayer or practice just right to GET in. But the resurrection reveals that God is already getting the world in line with the promise of boundless love. Justification is not about being deemed worthy, it’s about being aligned with God. 

It’s the difference between “You better get right.” vs “you have been set aright”, like a divine hand helping you back up onto your feet so that you can be a part of doing the same for others.  Starting from a place of blessed balance changes not only how but why we live and move and have our being. 

That’s how I understand being justified through faith. Paul proclaims, “we know that a person is justified not by the works of the law but through faith in Jesus Christ.”  This bible translation and many others translates these greek words as “faith IN Jesus”, but the original language more accurately translates to “faith THROUGH Jesus”, or even the “faith OF Jesus”.  I left the translation this way above so that you can see what’s most likely in your own bibles and know what’s behind those words for yourselves. We are set right with God, ourselves, one another, and the world because of JESUS’ faithfulness, not by our own, otherwise we wouldn’t need a Christ in the first place. 

Paul speaks up to remind Peter of God’s grace so that he can cut it out with all the hustling for goodness sake and start living from his already beloved standing. God’s love is the starting place, not the reward. Being justified through faith is not about getting in, but being in already. 

What would be different in your life if you let go of the ways you felt unworthy and underneath that found the firm foundation of God’s unwavering love for you? Of GOD’S faithfulness toward YOU. What would change about the ways you interact with others and creation? 

Perhaps we would notice a divine beauty in ourselves that helps us to notice the same in others. Perhaps we could hear a word of critique that calls us back to ourselves, our relationships, and God’s promises without shame, but with gratitude. Perhaps the ways we tend to act as gatekeepers of holiness would subside. Perhaps we could celebrate rather than manipulate our distinct cultures. Perhaps we would all know true rest and wholeness in our bodies and souls. Perhaps we would be truly free through God’s abundant goodness. Perhaps we would know what it is to live boundless lives of love. Let it be so.  Amen. 

Bodies, Belonging, and Growth

Acts 15:1-18

15Then certain individuals came down from Judea and were teaching the brothers, “Unless you are circumcised according to the custom of Moses, you cannot be saved.” 2And after Paul and Barnabas had no small dissension and debate with them, Paul and Barnabas and some of the others were appointed to go up to Jerusalem to discuss this question with the apostles and the elders. 3So they were sent on their way by the church, and as they passed through both Phoenicia and Samaria, they reported the conversion of the Gentiles, and brought great joy to all the believers. 4When they came to Jerusalem, they were welcomed by the church and the apostles and the elders, and they reported all that God had done with them. 5But some believers who belonged to the sect of the Pharisees stood up and said, “It is necessary for them to be circumcised and ordered to keep the law of Moses.”

6The apostles and the elders met together to consider this matter. 7After there had been much debate, Peter stood up and said to them, “My brothers, you know that in the early days God made a choice among you, that I should be the one through whom the Gentiles would hear the message of the good news and become believers. 8And God, who knows the human heart, testified to them by giving them the Holy Spirit, just as he did to us; 9and in cleansing their hearts by faith he has made no distinction between them and us. 10Now therefore why are you putting God to the test by placing on the neck of the disciples a yoke that neither our ancestors nor we have been able to bear? 11On the contrary, we believe that we will be saved through the grace of the Lord Jesus, just as they will.” 12The whole assembly kept silence, and listened to Barnabas and Paul as they told of all the signs and wonders that God had done through them among the Gentiles. 13After they finished speaking, James replied, “My brothers, listen to me. 14Simeon has related how God first looked favorably on the Gentiles, to take from among them a people for his name. 15This agrees with the words of the prophets, as it is written, 16‘After this I will return, and I will rebuild the dwelling of David, which has fallen; from its ruins I will rebuild it, and I will set it up, 17so that all other peoples may seek the Lord— even all the Gentiles over whom my name has been called. Thus says the Lord, who has been making these things 18known from long ago.’

 I want you to identify one thing near you/on you that says something important about who you are….

…….Where did that thing get its meaning or where does that significance come from?

Keep that reflection tucked to the side of your mind for now.

In my experience, church folk have a tendency to romanticize the early church and the promise of beloved community. We get real excited about the part of the book of Acts where “all of the people were of one heart” and “they held everything in common.” It is a beautiful and inspiring vision, but it’s only one part of the story.  

There is incredible blessing that unfolds from the empty tomb that births an ever-expanding community rooted in transformative love…but it also brings us to big questions and the hard work of deconstructing aspects of how we understand ourselves and our relationships, in order to live into who we are becoming in and through God in the light of Resurrection.

This community, the early followers of the Way have been blessed by the Spirit to grow and expand and now includes: people of Jewish heritage who still see themselves primarily as Jews continuing their faith in the Messiah, people who are Gentiles (not of Jewish ancestry – perhaps like many of us), Greeks and Romans who have been steeped in the religion of empire and many Gods, people from nearby and far away, people who have everything they need, and people who are just barely getting by.

The people of God, which has historically meant the Jewish people in most of scripture, have endured many attempts at annihilation, exile, and the threat of disappearing as a people through assimilation for millennia. One thing that had held them together is the ritual of circumcision as a holy mark of God’s covenant with Abraham to be with and among the people forever. It is more than a religious tradition, it is a part of their identity and a sign of their belonging to God and one another. But now, as the tent of God is shown to include people beyond that identity, people for whom this expression of faith would be a barrier….what is to become of their understanding of belonging and of being a part?

I used to be more flippant about this question. In the past I’ve pretty much blown it off as an addiction to nostalgia and rule-keeping, probably because to do so benefits me as a Gentile. Probably because as a white woman in the United States, I have not been subject to the same depth of experience in having important parts of my identity diminished or dismissed. But this question hits me differently in these days when black kids are sent home from school or chastised in professional spaces simply for wearing their natural hair, particularly in traditional ways like dreads, afros, wraps, and braids that connect them to their ancestors when those connections have already been limited. It takes on a different significance for me know as I watch the French government explicitly ban young Muslim women from wearing hijabs, a sacred reflection of their relationship with God and their identity as a people.

I realize now that the question of how the people understand and express who they are in God and in community is not as frivolous as I have often been tempted to make it. For the first time, when I read this text, I began to wonder what it means for the sacred gifts that I hold dear in my own faith tradition. If circumcision, the sacred tradition of holding God’s covenant in our bodies is not ultimately essential for all people in all places, what does this mean for our understanding of the gifts of baptism and communion – the sacraments which reflect God’s covenant to us in our bodies as Lutheran Christians?

Did your breath catch just now or do you feel a tightening in your muscles? Then perhaps we’re ready to draw close to the heart of this sacred story. Perhaps, we too, can dive into the question of what it means to be the people of God now, at the core of our being, in this time and place, among the people that God has called us to be now.

This community of the faithful doesn’t stay silo-ed as they wrestle with this question. They don’t leave one another to figure it out for themselves or just let it be a “you do you” kind of faith that avoids processing these significant questions together. Instead, they gather together and reflect on what they’ve been taught, what they practice, and what they’ve experienced. There’s still room to learn from what is has meant to be the people of God before, but they also recognize that that they, as a people, are not the same as before. To figure out and discern who God is calling them to be, they look to the witness of scripture, they look to what tradition has held, but also to what the Holy Spirit is doing currently all around them.

Sometimes in an effort to be faithful, we spend so much energy looking to who God has been for us before that we don’t spend enough time and energy looking to how God is moving among us now, or we see it as a lesser authority than what has been.

Along the way, Paul and Barnabas have been telling the stories of what the Holy Spirit has been doing recently in the lives of the people around them.  They think back and speak to the holy signs and wonders they’ve experienced among these people. Together, they point to and reflect on where they have noticed God’s presence and gifts and movement in order to understand and affirm what God is up to now. This doesn’t diminish tradition or scripture, but places all these holy gifts alongside one another in conversation.

I wonder…what have you noticed or experienced recently that felt holy and sacred?  I wonder how this may reveal what the Holy Spirit is doing among you now?

Ultimately, for those gathered in Jerusalem, it points them forward in a way that includes without imposing. The ways of being in covenant with God and one another still matter, but so does the unique identity of each person that is creating this new community, this growing family of believers. Who are they as a people, if not the things that have practiced before? What will hold them together with God and with one another going forward?

Turns out it will be the same thing that has always held them together. At the end of the day, the only thing that holds us in God, is God.  It is God’s ongoing word and work that blesses, shapes, and moves us.  We, who by this grace may call ourselves God’s people, are invited to pay attention and follow God’s leading so that all people may know their deep belonging.

Even as the church shifts and moves, it is the Holy Spirit that stays constant, pointing us to who we have truly been all along.  The book of Acts gives us a witness to an ever-changing people figuring out who they are and what resurrection life means. They are met with struggle and with all kinds of conflict, within and without. And through it all, the Holy Spirit abides among them and all they are becoming.  The Spirit continues even when the people aren’t sure what it looks like for them to continue. Steadily and surely, She shows up all around us to return us to our true selves and to one another in God. Beloved, Belonging, and Becoming. Thanks be to God.

Queer, Gifted, and Black - Complex Identities and God's Embrace

Acts 8:26-39

26Then an angel of the Lord said to Philip, “Get up and go toward the south to the road that goes down from Jerusalem to Gaza.” (This is a wilderness road.) 27So he got up and went. Now there was an Ethiopian eunuch, a court official of the Candace, queen of the Ethiopians, in charge of her entire treasury. He had come to Jerusalem to worship 28and was returning home; seated in his chariot, he was reading the prophet Isaiah. 29Then the Spirit said to Philip, “Go over to this chariot and join it.” 30So Philip ran up to it and heard him reading the prophet Isaiah. He asked, “Do you understand what you are reading?” 31He replied, “How can I, unless someone guides me?” And he invited Philip to get in and sit beside him. 32Now the passage of the scripture that he was reading was this: “Like a sheep he was led to the slaughter, and like a lamb silent before its shearer, so he does not open his mouth. 33In his humiliation justice was denied him. Who can describe his generation? For his life is taken away from the earth.” 34The eunuch asked Philip, “About whom, may I ask you, does the prophet say this, about himself or about someone else?” 35Then Philip began to speak, and starting with this scripture, he proclaimed to him the good news about Jesus. 36As they were going along the road, they came to some water; and the eunuch said, “Look, here is water! What is to prevent me from being baptized?” 38He commanded the chariot to stop, and both of them, Philip and the eunuch, went down into the water, and Philip baptized him. 39When they came up out of the water, the Spirit of the Lord snatched Philip away; the eunuch saw him no more, and went on his way rejoicing.

Philip and the Ethiopian Eunuch - Herbert Boeckl

At first glance, this seems like a pretty simple evangelism story. Go, tell, baptize, disappear. Down here in the Bible belt, we have read that story before. Likely, even if we haven’t been a part of it, we’ve seen and heard it many times over – faith as just another conveyor belt of production, an easy replicable system. And yet, for many, that simplistic formulaic pattern feels like flat words on a page. There’s a longing to deeply understand the meaning that the story holds. We can read sacred text, some even have the words memorized, but that’s not the same as understanding what is held there. There is so much richness dwelling in the nooks and crannies of this sacred story. 

Starting with the identity of the people involved. We know that our own identity isn’t just one thing or easily summed up in a title or label. We, like the people in this story, are layers of being, woven together. And those details aren’t clutter to be disregarded, but an essential of our stories and of God’s story. 

Philip is one of the recently-appointed Deacons, like Stephen who we heard about last week - blessed and commissioned from the community of Greek-speaking followers of the Way. Recognized for his wisdom and faithfulness to following however the Holy Spirit moves, and entrusted with the work of caring for those who were being pushed to the margins of society and religion. He’s not a rabbi, not an apostle, not necessarily one of the central preachers of the early church, but he knows the holy stories and has experienced their life-giving transformation and significance. His work is to care for the essential, practical, and physical needs of the community. But as we noticed before, it seems that these needs are spiritual too. It naturally connects with sharing God’s stories and teaching about them, and the profound healing of body and soul that comes alongside. 

Now, at the edge of what Philip knew of the earth, God is still on the move.  The angel of the Lord says “get up and go.” Get up and go….not necessarily to any particular place, but just start moving in the general direction of where the Spirit is leading you, and keep a lookout for what the Spirit will reveal next along the way. This wilderness road from Jerusalem to Gaza isn’t one direct road, but a web of roads, full of intersections and turns.  And it is there that he encounters an Ethiopian eunuch, in a royal chariot, reading the words of the prophet Isaiah. 

All those things coming together tell us that this Ethiopian eunuch is not a straight-forward, single-layered person either.  They are politically-powerful, well-educated, black, and queer. Let’s dive in. 

In the ancient near east, ain’t just anybody riding around in a chariot. That is a particularly luxurious way to get around. As the scriptures tell us that this person is a court official of the Candace, queen of the Ethiopians, in charge of her entire treasury. So we know they hold a significant political role within the inner circle of royalty. They have access to most anything…except the place where God was understood to reside…but we’ll get to that. To further highlight how important and capable they are, the text tells us that they are reading the scroll of Isaiah. So this person is literate in a world where very few have that opportunity.  AND they have access to a personal library in a world where paper was not a mass-produced thing, so the only people who had scrolls were temples and rich folk.  This person is Ethiopian, a descriptor likely referring to the color of his skin, and possibly also to traditional items of clothing…they’re black.  

All that access and power and influence… could be a substantial threat in a royal court system, especially if that person was also male, especially if they were to be entrusted with access to powerful women.  So powerful households would employ people that they perceived to be incapable of exerting sexual power – no producing heirs to challenge the stats quo. The word “eunuch” can refer to a castrated man, but it also had a broader definition in ancient times that could include homosexual men, or intersex folk . A eunuch can be someone whose genitalia does not match the societal expectations or is altered in some way, either because they born that way or they were subjected to violence by the empire.  It can also be someone whose gender expression does not match societal expectations, what we might identity as trans, or non-binary, or queer. Biblical eunuchs can represent a number of sexual and/or gender identities that were foolishly thought to be dismissible. I say foolishly because the Bible has several stories of eunuchs who turn that assumption into opportunities for the glory of God.

I wanted to highlight this complex intersectional identity because too often we’ve been lead to believe that it doesn’t exist within the Holy Scriptures.  Too often, the sacred stories we’ve been told make it seem like one-dimensional characters are included and so we begin to believe that we, in our complexities, are not fully included.

I believe this complex identity is highlighted in scripture not because it’s something to overcome for some glory of God, but because these things signify the way the world has distanced itself from this person and underestimated their value….it even more powerfully reveals the fullness of God’s embrace. 

Deuteronomy outlines how eunuchs are excluded from the temple and thus a full life within their faith community. But then in Isaiah, the prophet proclaims that God will bless eunuchs and foreigners and even give them the house of God. Perhaps that’s why the Ethiopian eunuch is reading and re-reading the words of this prophet.  Perhaps on this journey home from Jerusalem, the home of God’s most –cherished temple and what represented God’s very presence, where they had longed to be a part of the holy rituals…they had been turned away and rejected by religious leaders who thought this was the faithful thing to do. Perhaps that’s one more reason they relate all too closely to the section highlighted here, which tells of God’s suffering servant, subjected to exclusion, humiliation, and injustice because they are not who others thought they should be. This passage from Isaiah 53 highlights the claim that Jesus’ crucifixion was an injustice, a fulfillment of this prophetic passage. Perhaps Isaiah’s description of a silenced victim whose generation was cut off reflects the eunuch’s own experience of being diminished and rejected. Perhaps they are seeking to understand the presence of God’s story within their own being.

I wonder…Whom are we reluctant to join because of their complicated story?

Where might the Spirit be sending us? 

What complicated stories do we wear on our own bodies? 

The Holy Spirit brings Phillip and the Ethiopian together and creates meaningful connection between them.

The Spirit said to Philip, "Go over to this chariot and join it." 30 So Philip ran up to it and heard him reading the prophet Isaiah. He asked, "Do you understand what you are reading?" 31 He replied, "How can I, unless someone guides me?" And he invited Philip to get in and sit beside him.

Philip comes alongside this person, enters into where they are. He doesn’t yank them out of the chariot or send them to the nearest expert, but trusts the Spirit to lead them as they reflect together. We don’t know exactly what it said between these two that prompts the action that follows, but what we do see at the beginning is an exchange that feels mutual, with each one inviting the other into deeper conversation. There’s a posture of openness. Phillip is willing to ask big questions that open up further reflection together, rather than move them through a prescribed process. The eunuch is willing to be vulnerable and honest by naming what they don’t really understand. Can you imagine what might be possible, if before asserting their certainty or their opinion, people were willing to say, “Actually, I don’t know much about that, but I’d like to.” If people were willing to ask for help in understanding?

Philip doesn’t have to be the world’s leading scholar on the prophet Isaiah to share how he reflects on scripture in light of what he DOES know and HAS experienced of God. The Rev. Dr. Wil Gafney, reflecting on what she might have said if she would have been sitting in that chariot writes that: “When I hear these texts, I hear Jesus because of my experience with Jesus.” Philip engages the holy, if imperfect, act of simply reflecting and sharing where he notices meaning and God within the story of another. It is ancient and sacred tradition of a pair of people faithfully looking toward God’s movement in the world and in their lives and giving voice to what they have noticed. Philip has noticed that the Resurrection blows all the doors off their hinges, that God should not and cannot be “restricted access only.”

“Look, here is water! What is to prevent me from being baptized?” There have been plenty other voices that could give a laundry list of reasons, but now it’s clear that none of them is truly sufficient to stop the Holy Spirit. 

With this, this powerful, smart, black, queer traveler recognizes that there are no barriers between them and God and God’s promises, no hoops to jump through in order to access God and God’s blessing.  Perhaps for the first time, they know that God’s gifts are for them as they are, and they long to have that promise poured out over them, seeping into every fiber of their being through the sacrament of baptism.

It makes me think of a story I once heard of a teacher who filled a jar with large rocks. When the last rock sat at the very top of the jar, he turned and asked those gathered…is this jar full? Yes, obviously, the people replied. Then they poured smaller pebbles into the jar and shook it around a bit so that they began to sift into the spaces between the larger rocks. “Now is the jar full?” Yes, definitely now it’s full. Then they poured sand into the jar and watched as it spread into the spaces that hadn’t even seemed like spaces before, all the way to the top. “Now is the jar full?” Yes, of course. 

And this is where that original story ends as a fable on priorities and time management, and making sure you focus on the big things in life first. But I see a fable of the complex interlocking ways we are made – all the large stones, small pebbles, and intimate sand that make up our identity, meaning, belonging, wholeness. And I think there’s still room for something more. What would happen if we added water to the jar? Can you envision it as it seeps into every corner, touching and filling up every space of our lives and our being? That’s what the water of baptism does in us as we are joined to every other place that the water has been and will be as a mark of God’s ever-flowing familial embrace. And the cool thing about water is that it’s always right here, anywhere you turn, anywhere you are, accessible to anyone - reminding and inviting us into deep, refreshing, and pervasive blessing.

I think we often get stuck or separated by the idea that there’s some trick, some stipulation to coming close to God and God’s goodness. Or we’ve been told and/or internalized that who we are is too messy, too complicated, to be fully a apart of holy life, to have it seep into every nook and cranny of our identity and being. But it’s impossible to completely contain or stop water that’s on the move, alive through God’s Spirit. Nothing can prevent God’s proclamation that you are beloved, every inch of who you are. May this pervasive love wash over your head and fill up your heart. May it pour into the parched places of your soul. May it refresh you deeply so that you find yourself rejoicing. 

Let us pray:

Fulfillment of the prophesies,
With Scripture and water you claim people as your own. Claim us with water and the word, so that we may rejoice in the life given to us through the gift of the Holy Spirit, for the sake of the one whose spirit lives in us, Jesus Christ. Amen.

The Goods News of Integration > Inclusivity, and how Shared Service creates Shared Resilience

SACRED STORY – Acts 6:1—7:2a, 44-60

6Now during those days, when the disciples were increasing in number, the Hellenists complained against the Hebrews because their widows were being neglected in the daily distribution of food. 2And the twelve called together the whole community of the disciples and said, “It is not right that we should neglect the word of God in order to wait on tables. 3Therefore, friends, select from among yourselves seven men of good standing, full of the Spirit and of wisdom, whom we may appoint to this task, 4while we, for our part, will devote ourselves to prayer and to serving the word.” 5What they said pleased the whole community, and they chose Stephen, a man full of faith and the Holy Spirit, together with Philip, Prochorus, Nicanor, Timon, Parmenas, and Nicolaus, a proselyte of Antioch. 6They had these men stand before the apostles, who prayed and laid their hands on them. 7The word of God continued to spread; the number of the disciples increased greatly in Jerusalem, and a great many of the priests became obedient to the faith. 8Stephen, full of grace and power, did great wonders and signs among the people. 9Then some of those who belonged to the synagogue of the Freedmen (as it was called), Cyrenians, Alexandrians, and others of those from Cilicia and Asia, stood up and argued with 

Stephen. 10But they could not withstand the wisdom and the Spirit with which he spoke. 11Then they secretly instigated some men to say, “We have heard him speak blasphemous words against Moses and God.” 12They stirred up the people as well as the elders and the scribes; then they suddenly confronted him, seized him, and brought him before 

the council. 13They set up false witnesses who said, “This man never stops saying things against this holy place and the law; 14for we have heard him say that this Jesus of Nazareth will destroy this place and will change the customs that Moses handed on to us.” 15And all who sat in the council looked intently at him, and they saw that his face was like the face of an angel. 

7Then the high priest asked him, “Are these things so?” 2And Stephen replied: “Brothers and fathers, listen to me. The God of glory appeared to our ancestor Abraham when he was in Mesopotamia, before he lived in Haran, 44“Our ancestors had the tent of testimony in the wilderness, as God directed when he spoke to Moses, ordering him to make it according to the pattern he had seen. 45Our ancestors in turn brought it in with Joshua when they dispossessed the nations that God drove out before our ancestors. And it was there until the time of David, 46who found favor with God and asked that he might find a dwelling place for the house of Jacob. 47But it was Solomon who built a house for him. 48Yet the Most High does not dwell in houses made with human hands; as the prophet says, 49‘Heaven is my throne, and the earth is my footstool. What kind of house will you build for me, says the Lord, or what is the place of my rest? 50Did not my hand make all these things?’ 51”You stiff-necked people, uncircumcised in heart and ears, you are forever opposing the Holy Spirit, just as your ancestors used to do. 52Which of the prophets did your ancestors not persecute? They killed those who foretold the coming of the Righteous One, and now you have become his betrayers and murderers. 53You are the ones that received the law as ordained by angels, and yet you have not kept it.” 54When they heard these things, they became enraged and ground their teeth at Stephen. 55But filled with the Holy Spirit, he gazed into heaven and saw the glory of God and Jesus standing at the right hand of God. 56“Look,” he said, “I see the heavens opened and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God!” 57But they covered their ears, and with a loud shout all rushed together against him.

58Then they dragged him out of the city and began to stone him; and the witnesses laid their coats at the feet of a young man named Saul. 59While they were stoning Stephen, he prayed, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.” 60Then he knelt down and cried out in a loud voice, “Lord, do not hold this sin against them.” When he had said this, he died.

After the resurrection, Jesus is among the people in a new way - still showing up in surprising places, still teaching, SHOWING God’s enduring love over dinner and drinks, still inviting people to follow him, but perhaps now with a more expansive understanding of what that means - the fullness of struggle and redemption and ultimate resilience that is this resurrection way of being that fills up all of creation. Jesus was always empowering the disciples to reflect God’s power in their own healing and teaching, but the shift to emphasize their place in the ongoing way of resurrection must have felt particularly urgent in this threshold moment when things are about to change again. It must have felt like Jesus had only just returned when Jesus ascends to the heavens, beyond the ways they are used to knowing him. And again, one kind of absence reveals a new kind of presence as the Holy Spirit is made known among the people. 

In this text from Acts, Jesus is no longer with the apostles in the way he used to be, but God continues to be a part of their lives and their world in transformative ways. The moment of resurrection is past, but the movement is still going, still growing. And it looks like it’s going to need more than autopilot and good vibes to stay the course. 

The Good News of the unstoppable love of God has reached beyond the same-old circles and it means God’s church can not continue its same-old habits and patterns, even if they’ve been life-giving for a time. The Gospel and the community of the faithful are expanding and becoming more diverse (or perhaps, more accurately, more integrated) and there are some growing pains along the way. The honeymoon of the resurrection is starting to wane. 

The Hellenist (Greek-speaking immigrant) followers know that they belong in every way and are deserving of the same care as the Hebrew and Aramaic-speaking folks, but the system of church is still centered and dominated by a homogeneous standard that perpetuates inequality contrary to the Gospel. Perhaps the Hellenists were often told how much they matter, and yet they weren’t given roles to be a part of the decision-making and so the decisions neglected them. Those being left out and let down by that system speak up, critique the unjust system so that it can be remedied for everyone, and by some holy miracle the situation doesn’t devolve into a defensive argument but rebounds with a resolution for the community as a whole to better align themselves with the love they preach. 

The narrow way they’ve been doing things until now has become a stumbling block to the community but also to the leaders who recognize they can’t live fully into their calls to preach and teach if they are also doing so much else. They won’t be able to live into who they are becoming if they continue to do things based on who they were. The world is changing, they’ve changed as a people, they’re growing! And that means the way they share the life and work of church will need to change and grow in response. As they grow in faith and in community, they are led to engage the expansive gifts already among them. God has already filled their community with the needed leaders and gifts, if they take the time to notice, listen, and discern.

The book of Acts, especially in these early days post-resurrection, will often remind us that this way of resurrection can not be traveled alone. This is a way of being that must be shared. The body of Christ is alive, not dead, and every part of the body is critical to that life. They must create that community together and everyone can be a part of it. 

So the people lift up seven from among them to lead and tend to the physical needs and just care of the community. Seven with Greek names, by the way, Hellenist names… directly addressing the former exclusion and repairing the rift that was hurting the community. These are not tokenized leaders, but ones carefully considered for their Spirit, wisdom, and integrity. They are publicly blessed with prayer and the laying on of hands, a ritual that reflects the sacredness of their role of service.  Tending to the practical needs, providing meals, setting out the napkins, taking out the trash…. and tending to the just care of their people is not a lesser task than those preaching or teaching. This blessing reminds us that It’s not just the eucharistic table that is sacred, but any table which gathers and nourishes us which is holy. This commissioning affirms that so much of what we do, perhaps EVERYTHING we do, is spiritual.  There is no real separation of self, absolutely nothing that we do, that isn’t tied to our whole being, including our Spirit. Justice and care is not a spiritual extracurricular, it’s an integral part of the living body of Christ. 

It is so integral to the way of Christ, that Stephen’s path eerily mirrors Jesus’ own. It seems there are still people and powers that would rather commit murder than support a Good News that they cannot house or contain, own or control. Stephen, full of grace and power, did great wonders and signs among the people...and something about that was too disruptive, too generous, too outside the previously-held bounds of expectation, too convicting that some began to undermine his ministry. They set up false witnesses, stirred up animosity toward him, accused him of blasphemy, and when he still won’t give up his dignity...they are enraged enough to kill him. Even when they knew it was complete BS, when they could not withstand the Spirit in him, when his face shown like an angel, when he cried out in grace and they covered their ears, they were too blinded, too taken in by the idolatry of their fear and anger and certainty of their own righteousness that they could justify the violent death of this Child of God. 

I don’t know where to start with the eerily similar patterns in this week’s news. The Texas legislature is furthering several bills that will condemn transgender people to death given the opportunity, to strip transgender children from their families because love for them is considered too offensive, too dangerous, to be tolerated. In Minneapolis and Chicago, black men, black boys are killed in the street, taken outside the system of so-called justice just to be murdered for the perceived threat of their existence, and then falsely blamed for their own deaths in the name of righteousness. 

I cannot fathom Stephen’s words of release. I cannot imagine any semblance of grace or trust in such a moment of grief. In great tragic irony, it can only be the work of the Spirit that he could proclaim such life in the face of insistent death. 

I have never really been one to find a particular connection to the martyrs of faith. Honestly, I have often dismissed them as twisted macabre celebrations of self-righteous suffering. And theirs stories can and have definitely been twisted into a justification of suffering for suffering’s sake. But I’ve also rarely had to suffer in such a profound way for who I am or who I’m called to be. The closer I’ve become to holy leaders of sacred community, who tend to the just care of others often overlooked, who dare to give of themselves and live generously into who they are created to be, knowing what it may cost them...the more I see true resurrection gospel in these testimonies. 

After Stephen is killed, it’s a turning point in the early life of this Christian community toward persecution and being scattered. But it still does not ultimately stop the Resurrection movement from marching forward. It can not. They can slander Stephen’s reputation and they can question his goodness, but they can not ultimately diminish it. They can take his safety and even his life, but they can not take that vision of heaven itself opening before him from his sight, even at the end. They cannot take the Gospel of healing and wholeness and freedom from his eyes and his heart.

They can undermine and discredit his ministry, but they cannot undo his witness. You see, the people of God have recently realized that death will not define them, that they each play a part in this living breathing body of a resurrected Christ, and that even when one is gone, we’ve already taken on a share of this divine love between us and the truth will be carried onward by another. 

May we be blessed by the hands of community to embolden us to be a part of this promise as we are called, at every table, even and especially when silence threatens. May we live in the full defiant truth of God’s enduring belovedness which has no end. Amen.

Recognizing Christ Along the Way

Luke 24:13-35

13Now on that same day two of them were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, 14and talking with each other about all these things that had happened. 15While they were talking and discussing, Jesus himself came near and went with them, 16but their eyes were kept from recognizing him. 17And he said to them, “What are you discussing with each other while you walk along?” They stood still, looking sad. 18Then one of them, whose name was Cleopas, answered him, “Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have taken place there in these days?” 19He asked them, “What things?” They replied, “The things about Jesus of Nazareth, who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people, 20and how our chief priests and leaders handed him over to be condemned to death and crucified him. 21But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel. Yes, and besides all this, it is now the third day since these things took place. 22Moreover, some women of our group astounded us. They were at the tomb early this morning, 23and when they did not find his body there, they came back and told us that they had indeed seen a vision of angels who said that he was alive. 24Some of those who were with us went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said; but they did not see him.” 

25Then he said to them, “Oh, how foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared! 26Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?” 27Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures. 28As they came near the village to which they were going, he walked ahead as if he were going on. 29But they urged him strongly, saying, “Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over.” So he went in to stay with them. 30When he was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. 31Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him; and he vanished from their sight. 32They said to each other, “Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?” 33That same hour they got up and returned to Jerusalem; and they found the eleven and their companions gathered together. 34They were saying, “The Lord has risen indeed, and he has appeared to Simon!” 35Then they told what had happened on the road, and how he had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread.

“The Road to Emmaus” by Daniel Bonnell

This past Friday I saw a friend and I asked them, “How was your Easter?” She was busy in the midst of gathering her things when she looked at me with a sudden realization “was that just this past weekend? Gosh! It already feels like so long ago.” In this text, on the afternoon of resurrection, a stranger comes along to ask what’s up.  They’ve been going over it in their heads themselves…EVERYTHING that has happened recently… and just this morning…  Gosh! Was that just a few hours ago? The news of Resurrection is still fresh on our ears but now we’re already on the move to other places. We’ve heard the astounding testimony of the women that Christ is risen. We’ve seen the angels in dazzling splendor announce the joyous news that Jesus is not among the dead, but the living. We have sung alleluia songs of loudest praise…

But there are still those who walk away from the Easter message feeling dejected and sad, carrying the heaviness of dashed hopes. Any fire in their hearts is reduced to cinders. “We had hoped…” they say. If ever a phrase could capture the heartache of our deep disappointments... “We had hoped…”

What unfulfilled deep-hearted hopes are weighing on you today? We can pretend they’re not there or they’re not heavy, but neither of those things will alleviate the weight on our chest. It’s ok to acknowledge them, even if only to yourself.  In fact, here we see a sacred of story that unfolds as faithful people give voice to what’s troubling them.

These followers of Christ walk on, continuing a seemingly ordinary rhythm of life. Even with no clear answers, they continue to talk with each other about what’s going on.

As they’re talking on this journey, some other person, some stranger shows up, essentially inviting themselves into the conversation. They begin to share the story of what they’ve experienced, what led up to these moments, and what is still unfolding. This stranger asks simple open-ended questions, listens and makes connections that may have overlooked that help make meaning of these moments. As much as they’re willing to share their own experience, they’re also open to hearing the insight of this new voice. Sometimes we need a wise trustworthy outside voice to help make sense of things. This is why a therapist or counselor can be such an important life-giving partner in life, if only in certain seasons of our journey.

This mysterious Messiah shows up for them, shows up WITH them in their dismay. Their being able to recognize Jesus or “get it” isn’t a prerequisite for God’s care and presence, nor for God’s holy joy to show up in their midst as they invite this stranger to linger and stay. Jesus isn’t just waiting at some holy destination, but is present along the way. Often the heart of Jesus’ ministry in the Gospel of Luke happens on the road, in the journeying spaces. The Book of Acts says that the first self-designation for the newly-emergent movement of Jesus-followers was not “Christians,” but followers of “the Way” (Acts 9:2; 22:4; 24:14, 22). 

Jesus is present in their midst along the way but they don’t recognize him. It seems life after death doesn’t look the same as before.  We, as a people, re-member and gather in re-newed ways, now and in light of the resurrection, and it does not look the same as before.  God will not look the same as before. We are not the same as before. The body of Christ looked one way prior to death and has changed with the resurrection.  The contrast can be so disorienting that we miss God in our midst.  Our community body of Christ will never look the same as it did before these days of so much death, but it is a risen and resurrected body all the same.

Jesus is present but not recognized…until invited, shared, and reflected. When this stranger is about to carry on down the empty  road alone at night, they invite him in so that he might be safe in their company to share in their refreshment and find rest. Just as Jesus had done the last time they’d gathered for a holy meal, the bread is blessed, broken, and shared between them.  In this intimate space of a shared table, the resurrected Christ is made known and recognized among them.  Even as he vanishes from sight, they can begin to see and know Christ’s presence as the look back and reflect on their experience. After being so close and so connected, they begin to notice the ways that this had still been true along the way. Weren’t our hearts burning within us as we walked together? When was the last time you noticed your heart burning within you?

Sometimes we don’t fully notice how God has been present and speaking to us until we take time to look back. So often and especially in times of stress, we end up just trying to live through our days, but there is resurrection all around us. When these travelers pause and reflect, paying close attention to their experiences and feelings, in their hearts, and minds, and bodies… they recognize the living God among them and begin to echo resurrection to the others.

St. Ignatius of Loyola cultivated a regular practice of noticing like this, called the Daily Examen. It’s a relatively simple routine to be engaged once or twice a day, perhaps mid-day and evening that follows this pattern:

1.       Become aware of God’s presence.

2.       Review the day with gratitude.

3.       Pay attention to your emotions.

4.       Focus on one aspect of the day and pray from it.

5.       Look toward tomorrow.

Following the witness of this resurrected and resurrecting God who comes besides us along the way, I want to invite you into this practice for a small time now. Take a few moments to sit in silence and stillness to become aware, notice, and be present…

Mysterious and Divine Presence,
Too often our hearts burn within us because our bodies know before our minds that you are here working in us and through us in this world. Open our eyes, and help us to recognize you in all places and in all people, for the sake of the one whose presence is never far, Jesus Christ. Amen.

Resurrection holds Absence, Presence, and Promise Together

Luke 24:1-12

1 But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they came to the tomb, taking the spices that they had prepared. 2 They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, 3 but when they went in, they did not find the body. 4 While they were perplexed about this, suddenly two men in dazzling clothes stood beside them. 5 The women were terrified and bowed their faces to the ground, but the men said to them, "Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen. 6 Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, 7 that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day rise again." 8 Then they remembered his words, 9 and returning from the tomb, they told all this to the eleven and to all the rest. 10 Now it was Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women with them who told this to the apostles. 11 But these words seemed to them an idle tale, and they did not believe them. 12 But Peter got up and ran to the tomb; stooping and looking in, he saw the linen cloths by themselves; then he went home, amazed at what had happened.

art by Jim LePage

I wonder if the women rose early that first day of the week, hands full of the spices that attend death, because they wanted to get the difficult task of grieving over with. I wonder if they went out so early in the day because they couldn’t really sleep anyway. I wonder if they hurried to the tomb because they longed to remember and honor Jesus, even it wasn’t the way they really wanted to. I wonder if they went there because they didn’t know what else to do, but their bodies knew the movements of mourning – the rituals that could help their hearts and spirit process this profound loss and offer meaning and connection in the midst of this suffering. I’ve heard it said for years that on Good Friday, Jesus was abandoned by every last one of his friends and followers, but that easy drama erases the women who stayed, the women who endured, and the women who would then be the first to see and hear and proclaim the Good News.

We are eager to hear the words “Christ is risen!” But it takes a bit of unraveling before the Resurrection can be recognized. First, they see the stone rolled away. As a woman, finding something (especially something whose purpose is security) different than the way it’s supposed to be… is not encouraging. My first instinct is not hopefulness. My first instinct is danger. I can’t imagine the multitude of scenarios playing out in these women’s minds when they saw this. I don’t know if it was courage, defensive caution, curiosity, or hope that drew them forward….but they went in.

They find the tomb…empty. Again, this could mean a number of things - not all of them good or holy. Christ, God with us, appears absent. What are they to make of this seeming nothingness?

 Suddenly, in their midst alongside them in their confusion were two dazzling figures.  The mix of dazzle, awe-struck fear, and reverent bowing tells us that these are ones who reflect the voice of God. They pose the preposterous question: "Why do you look for the living among the dead?” They proclaim the audacious promise: He is not here, but has risen.”

It doesn’t get much clearer than that! How often I’ve longed for a messenger of God to just show up and tell me what’s going on, but even that doesn’t seem to capture the fullness of the Resurrection. Perhaps it’s not something that can simply be told.

The Resurrection doesn’t really make sense with just one thing or in words alone, and yet it continues to unfold.

To makes sense of what’s unfolding now without getting stuck in fear and frustration, the messengers of God draw on the remembrance of what came before. “Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men, and be crucified, and on the third day rise again.” “The women remembered his words” and this memory of what Jesus said when he was present in a different way helps them make sense of this apparent absence now and prompts them to go forward to “tell all these things.”

Their proclamation that Jesus is present—he is alive on earth again—is an act of redemptive remembering, in two senses: their remembering is a recalling of Jesus’ earlier teachings, but it is also a remembering insofar as they re-member the body of Christ. They seek to draw together again a community that has been torn apart by fear, confusion, grief, and distress.

Peter and the other apostles misunderstand Jesus’ missing body, thinking it represents an absolute absence. They dismissed the Gospel when the women told it to them, as impossible. The men decided that the women couldn’t be trusted as an authority on God’s movement in the world, and in so doing would nearly miss Resurrection unfolding before them. It couldn’t be true. But something of its truth must have stirred in them anyway because it moved Peter from where he was to go and see what they had seen.

The women testify to this experience of absence actually being a revelation God’s expansive presence in new, wilder, uncontainable ways.

Perhaps you’ve noticed and wrestled with this same strange dichotomy this past year – being keenly aware of the physical absence of people you love and yet experiencing their presence in heart and soul with you.  Perhaps you have entered into the emptiness in one way or another…and suddenly found a reflection of the divine standing beside you. Perhaps you find yourself telling a sacred story of how life emerges from the places of death, even as it still doesn’t quite make sense, and yet there’s another kind of revival in the process of sharing those words.

It seems the Resurrection holds all things together – what was, what is, and what is to come, absence and presence, worry and relief, death and new life.

Luke 10:26-28 tells us that Jesus taught the two greatest commandments are to love God and love your neighbor as yourself (see also Matthew 22:38-39). The empty tomb scene presents one way to put these two commandments into action. The women’s experience, and their response to it, remind us that when we love God, neighbor, and ourselves with our words and our actions, we render Christ visible in a world where the divine all too often seems absent. We draw community together, instead of being pulled apart by fear, confusion, grief, and distress. When we do that—draw attention to a deeper reality that is often hard to remember or believe—God is still present and working in the world. Death does not, and will not, have the last word. That good news—that gospel—is what Christians proclaim when we say that Christ is risen. Christ is risen, indeed. Alleluia!

This Good Resurrection News continues to unfold in us in ways that empower us to see ourselves differently, to see the world differently, and to mobilize around that promise. 

Resurrection is revealed, remembered, and reflected beyond the call of the trumpets, the scent of the spring lilies, and a day on the calendar that demands church attendance. It is a new horizon that holds together sorrow and joy and points to new possibilities through this union that seemed an idle tale only yesterday. It opens us up to recognize all kinds of resurrection moments even within our regular rhythms. It invites and empowers us to be a part of resurrection in our words and actions.

Easter says you can put truth in a grave, but it won’t stay there. - Clarence W. Hall

The Good News of Resurrection is not only in ancient Jerusalem or a heaven hereafter, but among us…Christ is not among the dead, but the living. Christ is risen in you. What a curious, wonderful, and extravagant mystery. May today inspire you to tell a tale so wildly hopeful and liberating that you make others wonder if it could really be true. May it be so. Alleluia! Amen.

What makes for OUR peace? Not just MY peace?

Luke 19:29-44

29When he had come near Bethphage and Bethany, at the place called the Mount of Olives, he sent two of the disciples, 30saying, “Go into the village ahead of you, and as you enter it you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden. Untie it and bring it here. 31If anyone asks you, ‘Why are you untying it?’ just say this, ‘The Lord needs it.’” 32So those who were sent departed and found it as he had told them. 33As they were untying the colt, its owners asked them, “Why are you untying the colt?” 34They said, “The Lord needs it.” 35Then they brought it to Jesus; and after throwing their cloaks on the colt, they set Jesus on it. 36As he rode along, people kept spreading their cloaks on the road. 37As he was now approaching the path down from the Mount of Olives, the whole multitude of the disciples began to praise God joyfully with a loud voice for all the deeds of power that they had seen, 38saying, “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!” 39Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to him, “Teacher, order your disciples to stop.” 40He answered, “I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out.”

41As he came near and saw the city, he wept over it, 42saying, “If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace! But now they are hidden from your eyes. 43Indeed, the days will come upon you, when your enemies will set up ramparts around you and surround you, and hem you in on every side. 44They will crush you to the ground, you and your children within you, and they will not leave within you one stone upon another; because you did not recognize the time of your visitation from God.”

“Triumphal Entry” by He Qi

I wonder what it is like for you when you are expecting one thing, but it unfolds or arrives differently than what you had envisioned.

I wonder how you respond to those experiences.

I wonder how you feel in those moments.

I wonder why you tend to respond that way.

I wonder what it takes to receive and recognize something or someone that challenges not only our expectations, but our understanding of ourselves, the world, society, and even God.

Perhaps by now it seems trite or repetitive to say that with God, we should expect the unexpected. It can easily become a sort of whimsical idea that conveniently favors the same things we favor. But it is also deeply disruptive, unsettling, and even dangerous.

This story, the story of Jesus, of God with us, of this culminating Holy Week…is a story of contrasts. Kings like Herod and Emperors like Caesar are also welcomed to town on a noble steed with shouting crowds of praise and blessing and triumph, banners waving toward the sky. Even the ancient Jewish kings like Solomon were anointed by riding in on a donkey with branches and hosannas rising into the air. In an unstable world, the people long for something to celebrate.

This moment isn’t entirely new. Cries calling for and celebrating peace were a familiar refrain as the Roman Empire promised and provided “peace” too – the Pax Romana. Granted, it was a relative peace that used military brutality against any challenger in order to give security to those lucky enough or frightened enough to fall in line.  It is a peace that is fundamentally misunderstood as only quiet and calm and silence, the lack of disruption, as opposed to actual resolution in relationship.

This reality, this understanding of power, this perception of what brings joy and the ways and means of peace would be the prevailing expectation for anyone witnessing this Jesus coming into town on a donkey with a parade. Jesus comes as a king, but not the kind that people would recognize as kingly. This sacred and triumphant procession isn’t novel, but it is revolutionary. It challenges the illusory systems of power that protect the way things are and demonstrates the real capacity for what could and will be.

And suddenly, it’s the powerful who are revealed to be truly fearful.

It’s not just that Jesus points to something new, it’s that people are following him, joining in the movement.  Jesus’ teaching and even their miracles would be a quaint sideshow in the circus of empire…if not for the growing community of people putting their trust and energy behind something that contrasts the current “balance.”  Jesus would be just another feel-good story to give the people just enough hope to keep them satisfied with the crumbs, if it weren’t for all the people who have gotten a taste of the feast unfolding before them.

The Gospel has something to say to all the moments where the ways things are seemingly ok-enough that we resign to call them good. Christ has something to say about all the true triumphs against giants that seem impossible. Perhaps, for a single human being, they might be impossible. But as Christ enters the heart of the city, the people are reminded that they are part of something bigger that causes even the authorities to tremble. Jesus, the Prince of Peace, ushers in a kind of peace that is wider and more enduring than the individual peace that can quickly fade.  This is a lasting and transformative peace which can only be made in community.

And yet, we still don’t understand.  We still don’t see it. There are plenty times where I do not recognize the time of my visitation from God. It’s not what I thought it’d be, so I miss it. It’s not as flashy as I want it to be, so I blow it off as unimportant. Maybe it’s centered for a time on a voice that doesn’t sound like mine – voices of color, voices of the poor that I’m not listening to, or giving enough weight to, and I stop paying attention. Maybe even when I do see it, I diminish it because making peace sounds like too much work, too disruptive, so I settle for the knock-off version.

Jesus laments. Jesus speaks of the destruction that results from our inability to see what REALLY makes for peace.  Some would say that increased guns and glam are the only measures and tools for peace. Some would say that MORE violence and MORE silence would bring peace. But that’s not the parade Jesus is leading.

And so I wonder…what makes for peace? Not just my peace, but our peace?

This week, this holy week leads us deeper into that question and how God responds to it. The new way inevitably passes us all through the ringer. The old ways will not go quietly or without danger. But even now…they are trembling and on the run, trying to hush the shouts of liberation. And even when we miss it, even when it is threatened or thwarted, the very stones cry out to proclaim the triumph of peace unfolding before us. Amen.

Show Us The Way

Luke 18:31—19:10

31Then he took the twelve aside and said to them, “See, we are going up to Jerusalem, and everything that is written about the Son of Man by the prophets will be accomplished. 32For he will be handed over to the Gentiles; and he will be mocked and insulted and spat upon. 33After they have flogged him, they will kill him, and on the third day he will rise again.” 34But they understood nothing about all these things; in fact, what he said was hidden from them, and they did not grasp what was said.

35As he approached Jericho, a blind man was sitting by the roadside begging. 36When he heard a crowd going by, he asked what was happening. 37They told him, “Jesus of Nazareth is passing by.” 38Then he shouted, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” 39Those who were in front sternly ordered him to be quiet; but he shouted even more loudly, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” 40Jesus stood still and ordered the man to be brought to him; and when he came near, he asked him, 41“What do you want me to do for you?” He said, “Lord, let me see again.” 42Jesus said to him, “Receive your sight; your faith has saved you.” 43Immediately he regained his sight and followed him, glorifying God; and all the people, when they saw it, praised God.

19He entered Jericho and was passing through it. 2A man was there named Zacchaeus; he was a chief tax collector and was rich. 3He was trying to see who Jesus was, but on account of the crowd he could not, because he was short in stature. 4So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore tree to see him, because he was going to pass that way. 5When Jesus came to the place, he looked up and said to him, “Zacchaeus, hurry and come down; for I must stay at your house today.” 6So he hurried down and was happy to welcome him. 7All who saw it began to grumble and said, “He has gone to be the guest of one who is a sinner.” 8Zacchaeus stood there and said to the Lord, “Look, half of my possessions, Lord, I will give to the poor; and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay back four times as much.” 9Then Jesus said to him, “Today salvation has come to this house, because he too is a son of Abraham. 10For the Son of Man came to seek out and to save the lost.”

We are on our way to Jerusalem. Moving ever closer but not there yet. I’ve read the book, I know how this particular story goes. I know what the way to Jerusalem means and yet, I’m still not quite sure what it really means. I know it means we’re headed for wonder, conflict, betrayal, suffering, heartbreak...but also redemption. We are going up to Jerusalem - the city where crucifixion isn’t an abstract. We are going up to Jerusalem - the place where impossible hopes come alive.

Jesus must know the limits of TELLING people things, even his closest followers. There’s just only so much you can explain, only so many ways, so many times you can repackage and reiterate an idea this big. Perhaps this is why Jesus then spends so much time SHOWING the disciples, the crowds, those at the edges, and those hovering from above...what this pain and arising looks like, providing glimpses of what it can and will be. 

It looks like….

A person who isn’t even given a name, who is made to sit on the outskirts of society, who is abandoned to poverty because of their disability, who is set up to rely on the help of others, of whom some would have said that he deserved this condition for some wrongdoing...a blind man...hears that Jesus has come near and calls out for mercy. Others nearby who are literally IN the crowd, the in-crowd if you will, find this distracting, even disruptive from the teaching and healing they thought they might hear and see and experience. They decide that this, this wayside place leading to Jerusalem, is not the time and place for such cries. They try to quiet him, to keep his noise from disrupting the holy procession. This only drives him to plead even more loudly. Jesus hears. Where the many would block the way, Jesus directs that a way be made for this one in need so that they can be truly near to one another. 

Jesus asks, “what do you want me to do for you?” What do you want God to do for you?

Sight, he says. Let me see again. Restore my body, restore me to community, restore my soul.

Immediately the blind one regained his sight and followed Jesus, glorifying God, and all the people, when they saw it, praised God.

One who sat on the margins, who would be degraded and silenced...is joined to those making their way to Jerusalem and becomes a reason to celebrate. 

It’s still an incredible wonder of kindness, justice, and liberating wholeness. It’s astounding, even if not all that surprising when you think about the character of Jesus. And I like this compassionate Christ who lifts up those society has made low. I wonder how the story of the blind man makes you feel?

Because then Jesus sees and invites the Tax Collector, Zaccheus, along the way. I grew up singing the Sunday School song about the determination of a wee little man, but the older I get the more this story makes me uncomfortable, even angry. I mean, it’s kinda offensive. Tax Collectors within the Jewish people were seen as traitors to their community.  They were a part of the people but seemingly had set themselves ABOVE and against the people by colluding with Rome, the Empire, in a way that brought suffering among them. They had seemingly chosen their own economic, political, and personal superiority at the expense of others. Many, if not most, Tax Collectors added their own little percentages to skim off the top and enrich themselves while those they charged struggled to survive. To the crowd, this role is synonymous with betrayal and exploitation.

This text doesn’t really tell us whether or not Zaccheus himself has committed the same offenses personally, or whether he is made complicit by his participation in a system that does these things. And yet he too longs to see this Jesus. Perhaps he too longs to BE SEEN by Jesus. He doesn’t call out to Jesus, but Jesus calls out to him by name. 

Jesus doesn’t embrace him because of his position of power, but essentially puts him in a position to use that power for generosity and hospitality. But it’s not a good look to the crowd and they grumble.  I’m pretty sure I would whole-heartedly be in that group. 

Both these stories show a crowd that tries to sit in judgement, whether of the poor and disabled or the exploitatively rich. Jesus is guarded as a show or limited essence to be protected and preserved rather than as a salvation to be experienced. Care is seen as disruptive rather than central. Welcome is seen as betrayal rather than reconciliation and liberation. And THIS… only echoes the misunderstanding that the disciples show. It is a fundamental misunderstanding or what God is here for. God has come for US, not just me. 

While traveling this past week, I got to read a bit more of Pastor Juanita Rasmus’ book “Learning to Be” where she writes, 

“Comparison and judgement are based on feelings of inadequacy and powerlessness.” so she asks herself “What’s going on in my heart and mind? What am I unwilling to face about myself that makes it easier for me to stand in the mob than to defend people I judge?” Than include and care for?

“Judgement has an energy that is not life-giving for anybody. When I live on judgement instead of the truth, something within me dies. Often that something is compassion for myself and ultimately compassion for others.”

Somehow, someway, even Zaccheus is changed. He turns his riches to generosity and insists on integrity, and offers reparations to any who were harmed. Jesus proclaims that he too is a child of Abraham - meaning heir to the promises of God, included in this cosmic covenant of divine care and faithfulness.  

This moment in time is an odd one. We feel the pull of joy as spring arrives and vaccinations spread. And yet we also hear of religious leaders in the Catholic Church would deny the belovedness and sacredness of the full extent of love in LGBTQ people. There is more death as self-hatred is turned onto others as racial and gendered violence. In the courts, we await justice for George Floyd and those connected to Breonna Taylor.

I wonder if perhaps it is at least in part because they could not understand their own identity as beloved child of god apart from toxic supremacy, dominance, control, and exploitation that these people could not see the harm in their actions. Perhaps this is what feeds the demon that brings harm to others.  I wonder this as a lamentation is not an apologetic nor an absolution. 

There is certainly a place for accountability. Zaccheus may be embraced by God, but must still make amends with the people. And yet at the end of the day, we see how judgement without understanding only separates and isolates, where Jesus connects. 

The text begins with a bold proclamation of direction - WE are going up to Jerusalem. The journey to the cross is not made alone. While Christ is ultimately the one who will bear it, getting there is still communal, but so is moving through it. We are only saved in as much as all people are included in that salvation. 

As we wrestle with the pull of “returning to normal” and wondering what that will be like, how we will get there without simply transposing the old normal onto new times in a way that would misunderstand the moment….Jesus show us the way. Jesus shows how everything will change, is changing.  And we will be a part of it. 

Amen.

You Will Be Found

Luke 15:1-32

15Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to him. 2And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, “This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.” 3So he told them this parable: 4“Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until he finds it? 5When he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders and rejoices. 6And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and neighbors, saying to them, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.’ 7Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance. 8“Or what woman having ten silver coins, if she loses one of them, does not light a lamp, sweep the house, and search carefully until she finds it? 9When she has found it, she calls together her friends and neighbors, saying, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found the coin that I had lost.’ 10Just so, I tell you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents.”

As we gather for worship each week, we have a ritual of saying that +KINDRED is created by everyone who comes to be a part of it, that this is a place and a time and people where we can be who we are as we are and where we look for the face of Christ in those sitting across the table. The repetition of these words and phrases, in part, begins our time together with a reminder of who we are and how we are – partly to let those who may be new to us know what we’re about, but also to remind all of us to be on the lookout for Christ in each and every face we encounter, and to find our grounding in the promise that WE are welcome and holy even in sweatpants and a mood – you know…the things we worry would actually be unwelcome.

It’s been tough for us during this pandemic because all of us haven’t been able to see ALL the faces that make up +KINDRED.  Our folks on the street and those without unlimited internet miss being together with everyone, miss the warmth and community of our shared tables and sacred conversation. Ray and Tod and Christian and Diane and Chris and Angel and all the folks who meet briefly on the front porch on Sunday nights for meals to-go pray together for their loved ones, their own joy and concerns…and for you…for the time when they will be able to welcome you all back to that holy gathering.

It is because of the love of Christ shared between us that we miss each other so much and long to be together again, reunited to one another, made whole in community. It is these holy relationships and experiences that fuel us and keep us in this practice of looking for Christ in everyone we encounter. It shapes how we engage and welcome anyone we come across, especially those readily labeled as “sinners” by those who are eager to exclude themselves from that moniker.

The neighborhood we call home as +KINDRED, the historic and vibrant Montrose streets are the dwelling place of many unpolished people that “respectable” folks would like to distance themselves from. For the last 40-50 years it has been a place known for welcoming what some would call “wayward”- the artists, the queer, the quirky, the poor - the ones who don’t simply blend into “polite society”. Much of that time, it has been a place that this same “polite society” would certainly never go.  Our building has a generous awning that seems like suitable shelter to the weary. We have running water that refreshes and a place to literally recharge. We call this place a sanctuary and even strangers are drawn to this as a place of refuge and safety. All of this together means that, yes, there are often people who bring their cardboard sleeping mats and grocery carts filled with their things, and habits of survival that may unnerve other passersby. I’ve noticed that this perception of particular danger is often aligned with the color of skin.

There is a small portion of church neighbors who have,  over the 5 years of our existence, reported +KINDRED to police higher-ups, to city council members, and to our own bishop for welcoming criminals and encouraging them with our care. There have been many meetings, and phone calls, and social media campaigns where the grumbling erupts and our character maligned, and even our very faithfulness to God called into question.

Jesus responds with far more gentleness of Spirit than I’m inclined to. In fact, it is one of the many reasons I believe in the power of the Holy Spirit at work in me when I don’t immediately lose my shit. And to be fair, I’m not a beacon of righteousness either. I can also get frustrated and bitter when things get messier than what I think they should be.

To a people who build their understanding of goodness on rules and regulations and right order and performance, an intellectual debate will only dig the hole deeper and perhaps still miss the heart of the question.  And so Jesus responds not with straightforward explanation, but with story. Jesus shares several stories, each offering a slightly different angle for not just understanding with the mind but with the heart…who God is and how God is. It points toward the way of being we are created to reflect and reveals in what way we are sought and held.

These parables in particular seem to resonate strongly with so many people so many years later. They are the inspiration of art and writing and music, perhaps by those who feel lost themselves but also, I wonder…by those and for those who have been made to feel lost, outside of the fold, meant to be unseen.

These parables are stories of those and for those whose primary identifier is seen as lost rather than loved. God offers a story of God’s own care and devotion that perhaps we often expect of ourselves as a prerequisite of divine love. In this story, there are no words of judgement or shame regarding the lost things. Sheep wander; it’s just what they do. They wander after food and refreshment, out of curiosity or in order to escape danger. And so sometimes, with or without any particular malicious or negligent action, sheep end up dangerously isolated. Coins fall behind the counter or slip between the cushions where they are then disconnected from their purpose. Sometimes it’s the result of others’ harm. Sometimes we choose a direction that leads us astray. But sometimes, it’s just an inevitable part of being in the world.

I wonder if sometimes we are eager declare others as “lost”, because it is difficult, uncomfortable, and so often avoided to acknowledge when we ourselves are lost. We fear it diminishes us in some way, reflects some failure on our part, or reflects the totality of who we are.

Being lost does not denote a lack of value but here is shown to be quite the opposite.  It is, in fact, because of our enduring value, no matter our status, that God insists on our restoration because of our belovedness. Jesus uses images that show the extent to which God is committed to this truth.

Perhaps our picture of a shepherd is a bucolic scene of someone taking a gentle stroll through lush green hills. But this story imagines a shepherd who sets out with a determination that is much more than a laissez faire attitude of “well, I sure hope I run into that sheep some,” but someone with a tenacious devotion. I picture someone like all the farmers I witnessed during the week of unprecedented freezing weather, chiseling through inches of ice several times a day to make sure their animals were cared for.

Again, we have a story of God in the feminine. I can think of nothing more determined. Here she leaves no stone unturned and no corner overlooked until the coins in her charge are recovered. In my house growing up we called my mom the “the finder of all lost things.” Whenever something would go missing, she would continue to search long after the rest of us had given up, even for things that were ours. Inevitably she could find things that eluded the rest of the family.

Neither the shepherd nor the woman welcome the lost with a scolding or a lecture on how to avoid being lost again.  There may be a time for such reflection, but in this moment there is only restoration and rejoicing. The resounding joy must be shared.  This is to be a celebration not only for the one, but for all.

When the lost is returned, one possible response is to move right into protection and preservation and back to basic survival, to keep a tight formation so that loss doesn’t happen again. But God reminds us that it’s ok and good and holy to not just settle for survival but to delight and dance and have a grand ole party. And that we need not hide this joy from others but invite them to share in it with us. The way of God is that the joy of one brings joy to all those around.  It lifts and sustains us together when joy seems beyond us. It connects us even to the angels and to God’s very self. It is an expression and a reminder and a call to our own found-ness.

I want to offer a musical meditation as we consider our found-ness. “You Will Be Found” from the musical Dear Evan Hansen is the song of a teenager navigating anxiety, loss, and identity, and it rings with echoes of God’s promise in these parables. May it be a holy word to you today.

Where did you feel lost this week? Where and when have you felt found? How will you rejoice?

Parable of the Dread Pirate Roberts

SACRED STORY – Luke 13:1-9, 31-35

13 At that very time there were some present who told him about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices. 2 He asked them, “Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans? 3 No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did. 4 Or those eighteen who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them—do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others living in Jerusalem? 5 No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did.”6 Then he told this parable: “A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard; and he came looking for fruit on it and found none. 7 So he said to the gardener, ‘See here! For three years I have come looking for fruit on this fig tree, and still I find none. Cut it down! Why should it be wasting the soil?’ 8 He replied, ‘Sir, let it alone for one more year, until I dig around it and put manure on it. 9 If it bears fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down.’”

 31 At that very hour some Pharisees came and said to him, “Get away from here, for Herod wants to kill you.” 32 He said to them, “Go and tell that fox for me,[a] ‘Listen, I am casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow, and on the third day I finish my work. 33 Yet today, tomorrow, and the next day I must be on my way, because it is impossible for a prophet to be killed outside of Jerusalem.’ 34 Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing! 35 See, your house is left to you. And I tell you, you will not see me until the time comes when[b] you say, ‘Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.’”

 I admit I haven’t been keeping up with the news much lately. There’s just so much on top of so much. And so I find that my field of vision has drastically narrowed to try and cope.  I don’t want to be told about what awful things happened to those Galileans, how cruel leaders hurt people again, or how the way of empire seems to just keep on winning. I have no good answer for why the heartache continues. I know that the headlines will ask more of me than I have to give right now. My capacity to care seems to have shriveled.  And I admit it is an unearned privilege to be able to withdraw this way because my own individual livelihood or dignity is not the one on the line or being debated. And it makes me feel like a waste of soil for not being better or more fruitful.

During this season of Lent, this time of clearing away and tending to, we make a point to practice the ritual of confession and forgiveness.  And what is a confession if not simply an honest admission of the mess we find ourselves in?

Jesus invites those gathered to reflect on the state of things and their place in it. Jesus sees and responds to their attempts to make sense of the senseless. Jesus gives voice to and in so doing affirms that what they’re experience is an inequitable suffering. And so I wonder what that looks like for you right now. I wonder what news or experience weighs heavy on you tonight? Perhaps we can name together the places of suffering, inequity, injustice in our lives and our world, even if they’re not on the scale of literal life and death? Share in the chat or comments.

This week we’ve seen the dignity and belovedness of transgender people and their right to exist in public questioned and maligned. Immigrant detention centers continue to be built. In Houston and across Texas today there are still homes without running water and those who are ripping out carpet and drywall, often folks that were already behind the 8 ball. In recent months, it has become increasingly clear how women, particularly those with children, have borne the brunt of the pandemic, especially BIPOC women.  Domestic partner violence has ballooned under these circumstances we’re in. Perhaps we feel the weight of medical bills, debt, job uncertainty, job intensity, health struggles, and so many things.

To those at an arm’s length from this particular pain, Jesus essentially asks, do you think they deserved it? Do you think that their suffering is merited in some way?

Most of us would answer “no” when asked outright, we know that’s the “right” answer, but I think part of us at least subconsciously holds to the idea that WE are somehow categorically different than the unfortunate THEM. In some ways we need them to “deserve it” because if it’s the result of their actions, maybe we can protect ourselves from a similar fate.

Jesus reminds us of the truth that we all suffer under a system that causes this inequitable suffering. Jesus says, “repent or you will perish like them.” It’s not an ultimatum, it’s the stark admission that there will always be power that serves only itself and relies on harm and oppression to remain and unless we something changes to shift our path onto another way, there will continue to be inequitable suffering, which is a way of death.

Jesus tells stories precisely about another way of being – a way not of extraction and destruction, but compassion and restoration.

He told this parable: “A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard; and he came looking for fruit on it and found none. 7 So he said to the gardener, ‘See here! For three years I have come looking for fruit on this fig tree, and still I find none. Cut it down! Why should it be wasting the soil?’ 8 He replied, ‘Sir, let it alone for one more year, until I dig around it and put manure on it. 9 If it bears fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down.’”

I hear these words and think of the Dread Pirate Roberts of A Princess Bride. “good night, Wesley. Good work, sleep well.  I’ll most likely kill you in the morning. Three years he said that.” Each time death seems most practical, even just, or inevitable…The gardener creates another way.

Perhaps we, too, stand like the fig tree feeling fruitless, waiting for the ax to fall that we’ve been convinced we deserve, but it doesn’t come.  We are not cut off or cut down, but given time to continue growing. The gardener extends grace and mercy. The tree doesn’t produce but is still deserving of a place in the garden because the gardener says so.

It seems a fragile existence, like one day, one year, we will run up against the hard limit of grace or that it is too vulnerable to match the strength of empire, but Jesus shows that this way of restoration is one that won’t be stopped by the way of blood-thirsty power, nor the way of thin security that avoids and ignores the troublesome. Even when up against a fox like Herod, Jesus doubles down, not by more and more strength, but by fierce gentleness. When the fox is at the door, Jesus doesn’t describe themselves as a rampaging bear, but a mother hen.  Jesus doesn’t play by Pilate or Herod’s rules, but establishes their own. Jesus, God with us, shows the way of the defiant and divine feminine that gathers and holds and cares and nourishes. God shows holy masculinity and femininity and both at once and beyond either and it is a means of liberation for everyone. God’s image, which we as creation reflect, contains multitudes in harmony. God’s garden has room for the fruitless and wilty to rest and recover and remain. This is the way that establishes life over death.

This weekend as I continued to take a closer look at my own garden after a winter like it has never seen before, there was so much that had turned to mush or a dry and withdrawn version of its former self.  But I know that this isn’t the whole story. Long branches were lost, but this often serves to protect what is left closest to the root. One way of testing the plants to see what life remains is to gently scrape thin layer of bark away from them stem. Under the dried up exterior, look for a vein of green wick that tells you there’s still more to see. Experienced gardeners will tell you, don’t cut things down just yet…give it a bit more time and sun and care…and you may be surprised. I’ve noticed changes just in the past week. Among the barren branches, this morning I would catch a glimpse of that bright chartreuse green of new growth.  It’s a pungent burst of color against the drab palette of decay – signs and movement of life even out of loss.

I wonder where have you noticed green wick or new shoots? What small buds and bursts are brightening before you?

Holy One of subversive power and enduring possibility,
Your word defies destruction. Your word casts out demons. Your word heals impossible wounds. Your word dismantles empires. Your word creates space for what some would discard. Your being transcends all things. Your way transforms the fabric of the universe. Help us to stand in awe and wonder of what your word is capable of doing. Give us compassion to grow in your word and wisdom to nurture it, for the sake of the one whose very whisper puts blessing on our lips, Jesus Christ. Amen.

It's OK to Not be OK

Luke 9:51-62

51 When the days drew near for him to be taken up, he set his face to go to Jerusalem. 52 And he sent messengers ahead of him. On their way they entered a village of the Samaritans to make ready for him; 53 but they did not receive him, because his face was set toward Jerusalem. 54 When his disciples James and John saw it, they said, “Lord, do you want us to command fire to come down from heaven and consume them?”55 But he turned and rebuked them. 56 Then they went on to another village.

57 As they were going along the road, someone said to him, “I will follow you wherever you go.” 58 And Jesus said to him, “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” 59 To another he said, “Follow me.” But he said, “Lord, first let me go and bury my father.” 60 But Jesus[c] said to him, “Let the dead bury their own dead; but as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God.” 61 Another said, “I will follow you, Lord; but let me first say farewell to those at my home.” 62 Jesus said to him, “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.”

“Dawn of Justice” from A Sanctified Art

::Deep breath:: Some days it seems like our very breathe is the last thing we have left that hasn’t fallen to pieces. And some days, when even our own breathe turns ragged; we wonder what more can give.

Lent is often a time when we reflect on giving – what we might give up and what we can give to. Right now, there are so many needs that call us to respond and care and there has been a beautiful outpouring. But perhaps for you, this evening, the idea of giving seems also laughable and even cruel. Even if we are in a position to share, we still cycle through the feeling that too much has been taken than can be accommodated by generosity. Some things are simply gone and no amount of care will bring them back. This season is one where we have historically talked of giving up habits, forgoing indulgences, and/or adding on healthy practices. But that has taken on new meaning when you already have had to give up a warm home, clean water, and the freedom to hug and be freely with friends and loved ones, as well as any semblance of true and enduring peace of mind after being on high alert for a whole year.  Even as pieces are restored, the specter of loss gnaws at our hearts.

Perhaps this year, for Lent, we can finally give up the pretense - that it doesn’t hurt, that everything’s fine, or at least that we’ve got a handle on things. Perhaps at least for this season, we can let go of all the ways we try to cover up the gritty mess of life, or the illusion that we’ve successfully hidden it away in the spare closet. Perhaps for a time, we can have the raw and honest look at ourselves and our world that our souls are yearning for.

Jesus looks directly at what will be painful. Jesus looks toward Jerusalem, sets his face upon it, with all that it will be and does not turn away.  Jesus is bound for a place that means home, but also suffering, but also redemption and liberation. It is all intertwined together.

There are plenty of things that want to divert us from this way, truth, and life along the way – deep-seeded divisions that stir up our desire for vengeful destruction, our longing for our own comfort that ignores community, and a laundry list of “should”s that want to insist on their priority.

Along the way there are people who want to want to follow Jesus, but first…there’s just one thing they need to resolve. I feel these “but firsts” in my bones. I’ll sit down and be still but first, I just need to do that other thing. I’ll take a break right after I finish this other other thing. Just one more task and I’ll be on solid ground. It’s the same toxic lie that would make us feel bad for not being more productive during a snowpocalypse during a pandemic. I’ll start that new practice, but first I need some time to get x,y, and z together. I’ll be able to be more generous, faithful… (fill in the blank) once I…(fill in the blank).  I’ll follow you Jesus, but first, I need to get my stuff in order. These things aren’t always intentionally untrue, nor the work unimportant…but if we always allow them to dictate our lives, we will miss out when the call comes to put something new first.  During Lent, the time of “but first” is set aside so that we can re-orient ourselves with what truly needs to be first. This is a season of spiritual detox. This is a time to let our ground lie fallow, to take a break from the cycle of production and accomplishment to allow for a wider view and deeper healing that is transformed into fertile darkness.

There will always be a “but first” that would keep me from the fullness of God’s kingdom that is already germinating among the untidy, mushy, decomposing scraps. Our stuff doesn’t have to be in order to be a part of what God’s doing.

This is a time of holy enough. Enough! “Enough” because all at once, we are reminded and released of the idea that we’ll never achieve this ever-escalating peak of enough and yet we are already immersed in enough. Enough because all our hustle will not be able to bring back what is gone, and yet what we have is sufficient to bring into being something new. Enough because even our heartache, anger, and exhaustion, the things that we fear will break us, bind us up for new ways of being. Because even when we lose, we are not lost.

This morning I read a prayer by Pastor Nadia Bolz-Weber and this part spoke to my soul as I hope it blesses yours: “Dear God...help me to remember that I am not being graded.  I am being guided. Guided to see that maybe I have a greater capacity to be ok when everything is horrible than I thought I did, but that it is not limitless, and it does not need to be.” Amen.

As we set our faces toward Jerusalem, the place where we can face the heart of our hurt as well as our healing…where do you notice that experience of holy enough?

5 Years of +KINDRED

Luke 9:28-36

28 Now about eight days after these sayings Jesus[a] took with him Peter and John and James, and went up on the mountain to pray. 29 And while he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling bright. 30 Suddenly they saw two men, Moses and Elijah, talking to him. 31 They appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem. 32 Now Peter and his companions were weighed down with sleep; but since they had stayed awake,[b] they saw his glory and the two men who stood with him. 33 Just as they were leaving him, Peter said to Jesus, “Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings,[c] one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah”—not knowing what he said. 34 While he was saying this, a cloud came and overshadowed them; and they were terrified as they entered the cloud. 35 Then from the cloud came a voice that said, “This is my Son, my Chosen;[d] listen to him!” 36 When the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone. And they kept silent and in those days told no one any of the things they had seen.

Five years ago, a community of faith said a final goodbye to a church they loved and to a way they had known, to listen for what God may be saying. The people of Grace Lutheran Church left their proverbial fishing boats, to venture out into new and uncertain waters, unsure of if or how who they had been would carry on into what would be. They closed the doors of their beloved congregation when all +KINDRED was, was a name, a hopeful idea, and handful of strangers. I could wax eloquent, and often have, about the beauty of new possibilities and wide open spaces. I do believe in that and trust in God’s glorious faithfulness there, but it is also a terrifying cloud to find yourself in. I am in awe of the courage it takes to stand there anyway.

We, as +KINDRED, are born out of their legacy. From time to time we’ve been described as “the little church that could,” and that’s exactly what people said of Grace before us. Even now, as we are dispersed across the city, we stand on that sacred ground where God shows up with stunning wonder in the midst of a small, ordinary people, who don’t always know how to respond to what God is doing.

Five years ago, this community of faith gathered in a park by the bayou…with terrible parking and dim lighting, dragging down lawn chairs and a makeshift altar to speak of and embody what God can do with ashes and scraps. Since then we’ve sat down for over 300 meals together in worship and in community, discovering the face of Christ in the faces across the table. That also means we’ve washed approximately 10,000 dishes together! Faces familiar and fresh share in the work while swapping stories or telling jokes, with a few tough scrubs and even broken pieces along the way.  We’ve asked big questions of God, of ourselves, of one another, and in the world to develop a faith that goes beyond the surface.  We’ve tried new things that have exceeded our wildest dreams and others that bombed spectacularly. We’ve shown up, listened, marched, advocated, gathered, and shared so that God’s goodness may be reflected even among oft-overlooked and undervalued corners, so that even among what seems ordinary we might recognize the divine extraordinary. We’ve learned that this way of being in holy relationship isn’t necessarily easy or convenient or tidy, and has called us into the proverbial principal’s office more than once…but it is good for us to be here.

As much as this day is one to celebrate our story, and the ones that it is built upon, it is only because they sit as a part of God’s story. Like Jesus and the disciples, today we reflect on how big moments and big questions beckon us toward prayer – so that we might hear and know God’s own self amidst everything else.

All throughout this chapter of Luke, the question keeps coming up, “who is this Jesus?” In verses 7 & 8, King Herod is perplexed about it because he was sure he’d silenced the mouth of God when he executed his detractors like John the Baptist. And yet, people were still saying that this teacher and healer might be John resurrected, or another prophet, another messenger of God’s goodness and power, like Elijah, returned. In verses 18-20, Jesus asks the disciples “who so the crowds say that I am?” To many, the best explanation they can come up with for the incredible wonders they’ve seen and heard is that John the Baptist is still among them, or Elijah, or another prophet…maybe somebody like Moses? Sure, deny it all you want, but tell me….have you ever seen Jesus and the other guy in the same room?

This incredible transformative story must belong to someone or something that is a known quantifiable entity. Something that they know has worked before. What they’ve known in the past is how they understand the present and shapes what they imagine as possible. But those who have walked closest with Jesus, followed them waking and sleeping, day in and day out, across different place and among different people have begun to notice…this Jesus is something different, something altogether new.

Standing on top of a mountain next to the heroes of the faith gone by, we get a further glimpse of Jesus is and isn’t. It is made clear that even as Jesus stands alongside them, Jesus is not a reboot of what was. The Messiah isn’t about a kind of new and improved version of old ways, not a frame-for-frame formula from the past. Jesus is the one they have all pointed to and is still unfolding, what they have had glimpses of before and is revealed anew, something even bigger and better than even the greatest monuments in our minds.

This changes the way things appear. In this place and this moment, what was dusty and drab becomes dazzling. The truth of who God is shines brilliantly through. In the Gospel of Mark, the writer goes on to say that Jesus’ clothes became brighter than any launderer could possibly clean them. This splendor is then not the result of just being so incredibly squeaky clean or particularly excellent, but it is the very nature of their being which is revealed here, engulfing us. It’s glorious.

It is a glory that is not only for some hereafter, some other plane of existence, but in our midst. Leading up to this moment, Jesus has promised that “Some standing here will not taste death before they see the kingdom of God.” (v. 27) God’s goodness and glory is not reserved for “someday” but also evident here and now.  God invites us to bear witness to these thin places, where the space between the eternal and the everyday is made narrow, where the line that separates the ordinary and extraordinary becomes so small that it seems to dissolve entirely so that they dwell together there.

Still, the cynic in me wonders, what good is glory? I mean, who doesn’t love shiny things, but at the end of the day…what’s it for? If it’s just another story of self-aggrandizement that serves to make others feel small…it doesn’t really seem like news and certainly not Good News. I long to hear a way of glory that is more than puffed-up ego.  Here, at what forms a sort of middle of the Gospel of Luke, this edge of glory is shown to be a threshold for something beyond hollow grandeur that fades as soon as the moment passes. This wondrous celebration is also a turning point that holds together who we’ve been and who we are becoming.

When Jesus is finally revealed in glory, we learn that this glory is not what we think we see. It may sparkle and shine sometimes but it’s more than the old razzle dazzle routine. We overhear the conversation between the ancestors and the Christ, who in this moment of glory are speaking of Jesus departure, their exodus, their liberation…which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem.  Does this mean God’s death on the cross? Or Their resurrection from the tomb? The reader is left to wonder.  

It seems God’s true glory also looks an awful lot like glory’s opposite - messy, unpolished and uncomfortable. On the mount of the transfiguration, we catch a glimpse of the divinity of Jesus, literally shining through. But also a foretaste of what, in Christ Jesus, that divinity means and what it is for. It is for us. It is for a kind of transformation that is more than self-serving splendor but a transformation that shines onto and through the ordinary and even the profane. It does not stay safe and pristine high above everything else, but enters into and overshadows all things.

The disciples are given a charge – listen! “This my Child, my Chosen; listen to them!” The charge is not merely to hear God’s word, to acknowledge and even quote it, but then keep it at arm’s length. Hearing is just the physical process of sound entering our ear, with nothing to say of what happens to the words from there. But listening means that as the Word surrounds us, it moves us for understanding and formation. It causes us to reflect what we have heard and shapes how we move in the world.

This sacred story alongside our story in light of God’s enduring story reminds us that we don’t have to have it all figured out with exact clarity or precision or polish, but invites us to always be listening and looking for God’s promises and presence so that it would transfigure us to reflect God’s glory, even and especially among the ordinary elements of life. This is my prayer for +KINDRD, for you, that you would always be a people on the lookout for God’s showing up and listening for God’s voice so that you may be shaped formed to show Christ’s radiant love in the wholeness of your life together. Amen.