Christ calls you to the table

Vicar Brett Wilson - 14th Sunday after Pentecost – 8/29/10 – Luke 14:1, 7-14 (Preached at Emmanuel Lutheran)

Every Thursday night at Christ Lutheran a group serves the community meal. When I came downstairs this past Thursday for the meal, the group from Redeemer Lutheran, who was serving, had already opened the doors, about 15 minutes early. The dining room was almost full, and people were flooding in the door. Before I knew it, there was not a seat to be had. Gradually over the last month the numbers coming to the community meal have been growing. This is both a blessing that it can be a help to so many people, but it is also a concerning sign of the times. This past Thursday we had a record number for the meal. About 210 people came for dinner, for dinner in our hall which holds about 120.
Before long, I was talking to people as they waited in line for a seat at the table. I know you all here at Emmanuel take a turn serving the Monday meal, and maybe you can picture this. There was such a crowd, over and above our packed dining room, that the line wrapped outside and around the building. In line waiting for a seat were families, kids, young men and women, and older folks too. I was talking to these two men who were waiting in line, and one said to me, “I know why everyone's here, it's the end of the month. I know I don't get paid for two more weeks and I just don't have anything left. These meals really help me out.” The man standing next to him said, “yeah, the meals help me out – I'm not getting paid either.” The first man responded, “If it wasn't for this meal – (he shook his head) – I don't have anything in my fridge except mayonnaise and water.” The man standing next to him seemed startled and a little humbled by this and responded, “well, I've got stuff in my fridge, I could go eat that, these meals just really help. Sorry, man.”
We never do know where we sit in relation to each other, do we? I know we look at each other and make certain assumptions, but you can never really judge where you sit in relation to someone else. Today's gospel reading challenges our idea of choosing where we sit at the ranked table. This may not seem like a very deep issue to us, but in the ancient world, this was a very deeply inscribed social practice, and everyone knew the hierarchy of table seating at a dinner or a wedding feast, where this parable is set. When we sit down to dinner with friends we may not rank ourselves in this proscribed way, but we do rank ourselves and each other in so many other ways. And also, it often does matter where we sit, and it starts as young as the elementary school lunchrooms and carries into every other part of life. Competition, and the practice of measuring ourselves against others is just a part of who we are as humans. As competitive creatures we can relate to rating ourselves at the wedding banquet in the story, taking a chair at the table based on where we think we sit in relation to the other guests.
Where do I sit, after all? Where do you feel that you sit? Here in America, we sit pretty high up at the table. America is 6% of the world's population, and we consume 40% of the world's resources. Only 8% of the people in the world drive cars. A billion people in the world live on less than 1$ per day. When I consider this scale, I realize that I don't take the lowest seat at the table, really ever. Left to our own, even in trying to be humble, pride can win out and we place ourselves higher on the table status, only to fall when we are confronted with reality.
God confronts us with this reality in this parable. I can never properly evaluate where I sit. When God shows me where I truly do sit at the table, I am humbled. God does the humbling, and that's ok – I know I need it sometimes. I realize how blessed I am, but also how far I fall short from sharing my blessings. I also realize that I am just a guest at this dinner party, and I am not in charge.
Reading this lesson we must remember that it is a parable, and that God is the host of this banquet. God shows you to your place at the table. Whereas we may see this as a matter of status, that is our concern and not God's. “We as humans are naturally insecure. We deal with that insecurity illegitimately and illogically by comparing ourselves to others.”
God doesn't let it rest with us assigning some false rank to ourselves and others. God is active and present in this equation. Even while we are constantly comparing and ranking ourselves, God tears this down and breaks through to you by conveying your worth and dignity as a gift. God is the host at this wedding feast, this celebration here today and every day.
God is the host of the banquet, and that means that God invites you. It's not our hands that pick the guest list or make the table assignments – God is in charge here as host. If God is the host, who does he invite who cannot repay him? Me. You. The ones who could never repay God for what God has done. God who came down in Christ, the one most exalted who humbled himself all the way to death, does so that we, the ones who are lowest, who could never repay, may be exalted. It is out of God's sheer grace that we are invited, as we could never repay God for this.
God invites you to the banquet. For the gospel of Luke the banquet is often a symbol of the kingdom of God. God invites you to the kingdom, just as God invites you to this communion table. At this table where God gives of God's very self, showing a glimpse of the kingdom where there is not rank but God just gives. Everyone receives the same bread and wine, God's very self. God levels the playing field, by reversing the roles of the exalted and humble, because it doesn't matter, what is in your fridge or how much you have in the bank. God calls us each the same and gives of himself, of his son. God gives us our worth, calls us to our seat just as a parent calls their children to dinner. This is what is meant in “this is the feast of victory of our God.” God calls us to the table, invites all, throws off our system of rank and gives each child the same. From this table, from this glimpse of the kingdom we are changed. As God's forgiven people we can learn how to forgive others, see that they're just the same as us, and offer them a place at God's table.
The Holy Spirit moves among us shows us that where people are fed, where people are welcomed with no strings attached, there is a glimpse of the kingdom. At the community meals, in the work of this church and the people of Lancaster, there is God working. When you invite someone to this table, there is God's grace. When you show hospitality to strangers, remember those in prison, pray for the hungry, give thanks for what you have, realize where you sit, there Christ is with you. When you do things not to be repaid or get something in return, then you are Christ to others, and you share Christ and open up to the Holy Spirit.
Like a proud parent, God calls you to the table, invites all the children, and gives you and each one a seat and an equal portion. Like a proud son or daughter, you and I go from this table and because of the Holy Spirit, like a child bursting with pride, cannot help but tell others about what a good meal we had here, cannot help but to share what we have, and cannot help but invite others home for dinner. Amen.

This is where we sit . . .

When considering status and where we sit at the table in reading this week's gospel lesson, consider this video. In the humbling and challenging idea of throwing a party to invite the least in our society, who could never repay us, consider where we sit.
When we read this lesson, who do we assume that we are? Most of us would not consider ourselves as the rich hosts. But consider where you sit on a global scale. Watch this little clip from Rob Bell - and consider what it means to bless and be blessed . . .

Where do you sit?

The gospel reading for this Sunday is from Luke (have you noticed they all have been lately? That's because we're in lectionary year C). Anyway, the reading, Luke 14:1,7-14, is when Jesus seems to be giving some rules for dinner parties. Don't sit at the place of honor, but sit lower, be humble, that it's better that you humble yourself so that the host of the party can say to you, move up higher, and you'll be honored.
This is about status? Where do you feel that you sit? How does it feel where you sit at the table? Are there places in your life (at work, with your family, friends) where maybe there isn't an explicit seat at the table but there's a definite status/pecking order? How does this feel?
Jesus tells us in this passage that when we have a dinner party, not to invite our friends or others who could invite us in return. The goal is not to be repaid, but to give - Jesus tells the disciples to invite the poor, the blind, the sick, those who could never repay you, and you will be blessed in that you cannot be repaid, and "you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous."
Hmmm . . . I am really grappling with this last part. If Christ calls us to a life of giving without expect of repayment, that it's not about a "one for you, one for me" kind of math equation, then why is it that in the end Jesus dangles the carrot of our own repayment in the resurrection? This is hard for me as a Lutheran - we do not believe that our works are repaid to us in God's grace, but that God gives us grace and mercy and everything we have as pure gift, not as repayment for what we do. We can do nothing but sin without God. Anything good we can do is in Christ, and it's in response to God's grace.
Also, Jesus' words here seem very clear, very tangible, not symbolic or mysterious - so why does he call it a parable? Does that imply another layer of meaning here?

Sermon 8/22 - what ties you up, and how the sabbath unties us

Vicar Brett Wilson – Pentecost 13, Proper 16 – Luke 13:10-17 (read the scripture text first!)

Last February it was the first day of classes, and I, the one who my friends make fun of for how I am always a minimum of fifteen minutes early, was ready for class to start. So when the clock on the wall struck the hour and about half the class, but also the professor were absent, I started to get irritated. Five minutes go by, a few more students trickle in, and then about twelve past the hour our professor, Dr. Hoffmeyer, strolled in. He apologized briefly for being late. I wasn't mad at him, but I admit I get so tied up about things like being on time. I know it's a part of my own sinfulness and almost a compulsion. But the reason I remember this particular instance is because of what Dr. Hoffmeyer said next, which I took down in my notes because I was so struck by it. “What is time anyway? Think about it, clocks are a relatively new invention. The system of time is kind of made up and defies itself on many levels.” At this point I started to think – where is he going with this philosophical theorizing on time – where is the syllabus? But as he continued I saw the insight – He admitted to not wearing a watch himself – and said, “It might be a good spiritual discipline to set all the clocks in your house at slightly different times. He continued, “because anything you think “it has to be this way” you should try to shake free from that idolatry. If you always get the same ice cream flavor, try something different, if you always drive the same route to work, try something different. Shake yourself free from idolatry, he told us. And I think it starts by thinking of whatever systems you have created, whenever you think “it has to be this way,” whatever rules you have made for yourself and taken them as law, when you begin to worship the system you've created – it's idolatry – shake free of it.

So what is it for you – what is it that ties you in knots and has you thinking “it has to be this way?” For me, one of those things is timeliness, but overall the number of systems like this we have created, each with their own rules, is mind-boggling. We have systems for how we dress – never wear navy and black together, no white after labor day – maybe you think “it has to be this way.” We have systems for how we talk to each other, for social interaction – things that are okay or not okay to say. And from school lunchrooms to workplaces we have created systems of rules, written and unwritten, of how it “has to be.” The result is that we end up valuing the system, the rules, more than the person standing in front of us. We create these systems with mostly good intent – for the sake of good order, and even to help others – but people fall through the cracks and get hurt – because the system comes before the person.

Picture the scene from our gospel reading. It's the sabbath, it's worship time, and everyone is listening to Jesus, this rabbi from Nazareth giving a sermon. But no one recorded or even remembered the sermon because of this unusual thing that happened right in the middle of it. In the middle of his sermon, Jesus notices a woman who has not even said anything, crippled, outside the inner circle of worshipers, interrupts himself, and heals her. The rules say this is not the way “it has to be.”

Perhaps you see yourself as the crippled woman who is healed – you have seen Christ work changes in your life, God has helped you stand up straight, see things differently, just like her. Maybe you can see where Jesus himself is coming from, and you love trying his part on for size because of his exciting accusation - “You hypocrites!” We are most hesitant but most fitted for this last role – the synagogue leaders. It fits, all to well, and we know we are like them, we argue against God and for our own idolatry every time we think “it has to be this way.” I know I get stubborn and it blinds me from seeing where God is working because where God works does not stay within the lines, does not follow my rules. Pastor Wayne Shelor who was my boss when I was a camp counselor used to remind us to discard the schedule when the Holy Spirit interrupts – something hard for me to do. Sometimes I miss God's words to me because I am too busy thinking – “it has to be this way” – and it wasn't. Good order in the synagogue matters, and they are following God's law, but the leaders of the synagogue cared for the order of the system over the individual. But often the rules are broken and God breaks through anyway, and thank goodness! God interrupts our idolatry of thinking “it has to be this way” and shows us God's presence among us.

Whereas we get caught up in the system, in thinking “it has to be this way,” God does not. In this healing story Christ's action transcends the system, to care instead for the individual. God is about the particular, about the individual. Like the woman in the story, you the person matter more to God than any system or any rule.

And here today, is Sunday. The sabbath, which has its own set of behaviors and rules given by God. The sabbath is not another rule, another thing that we think – “it has to be this way” - something that ties us up. It's the opposite - The sabbath, and Jesus' action that day in the synagogue, is about freeing us, liberating us from all the systems, from all the idolatries, from all the cares that we carry through our week. The Sabbath and worshiping on this day are not meant to be another thing to add to our busy schedules, it's meant to be a break from them. Celebrating a sabbath is not meant to be another thing that we feel tied up by, that we start thinking “it has to be this way” because the sabbath isn't something we do but something that God does. God gives us the practice of sabbath as a gift, as freedom, instituted with the ten commandments, to remind all God's people and celebrate how God gives freedom, just as God had just given the Israelites freedom from slavery in Egypt.

God's idea of the sabbath is not about mandatory relaxation – because the phrase itself seems like an oxymoron – mandatory relaxation doesn't seem very relaxing, does it?

The sabbath is about liberation, about freeing us. About God's action in Christ in the words of scripture, at the table, to untie us, lead us to the baptismal waters, and claim us as God's child, where nothing else matters. Our ability to delight in the Lord, to celebrate the sabbath, to have relationship with God does not depend on our own work or how well we follow rules, but on God's work. Jesus has made it possible for us to be liberated, untied – just like the woman healed in the gospel reading. Jesus fulfilled all of the “if” clauses in the Isaiah text – he removed the yoke, removed the speaking of evil, fed the hungry, and Jesus honored God's way all the way to death. There is no conditionality to it, because of what Jesus did for you and me. It's not about if you do it this way, but it's that Jesus did it this way, healing and liberating us. Liberating us so that here at Christ Lutheran we do feed the hungry in Christ's name. Here at Christ Lutheran we offer words of comfort to each other and know it's just a glimpse of God's love. Christ unties us, liberates us, and so I can say to you and you can say to each other God's promises of the sabbath with a sureness. “The LORD will guide you continually, and satisfy your needs in parched places, and make your bones strong; and you shall be like a watered garden, like a spring of water, whose waters never fail. . . You will take delight in the LORD, and God will make you ride upon the heights of the earth; God will feed you with the heritage of your ancestor Jacob, for the mouth of the LORD has spoken.” Amen.

What makes you bent out of shape?

This coming Sunday's gospel reading (Luke 13:10-17) tells of Jesus healing a woman whose body has been crippled, bent over, for 18 years. In this little healing story - there are so many neat things to chew over, so I offer you these little questions/devotional seeds. (Refer to the text at the bottom of this post)

• The woman in the text does not ASK to be healed. Just her presence moves Jesus to heal her, no questions asked.
• How often do we get so caught up in the asking of our prayer and faith life? Isn't it amazingly comforting that as in this story, we know that God knows just what we need, even if we do not ask.
  
• As simple as it is, this is a powerful reminder that our faith is not about if/then. . . (If I ask God just right, maybe then God will act). God is always acting on your behalf, breaking in, trying to heal you. It's not about the asking or having perfect prayers. God is about relationship.
• Jesus is then criticized for doing this healing on the sabbath. What does "sabbath" mean to you?
  
• Why do you think Jesus refer to the woman as a daughter of Abraham? Very rarely are women and figures like this in the gospels given names. How is this title a powerful one?
  
• Jesus describes his action of healing as setting the woman free from bondage, liberating her, untying her from her worries. What is binding you up? What makes you bent out of shape? Where do you pray that Jesus' liberating action will move?
• As so often in Luke, the response of the people is to rejoice and praise. Where is our rejoice and praise? What do you praise God for this day?
  

¹⁰Now he was teaching in one of the synagogues on the sabbath. ¹¹And just then there appeared a woman with a spirit that had crippled her for eighteen years. She was bent over and was quite unable to stand up straight. ¹²When Jesus saw her, he called her over and said, "Woman, you are set free from your ailment." ¹³When he laid his hands on her, immediately she stood up straight and began praising God. ¹⁴But the leader of the synagogue, indignant because Jesus had cured on the sabbath, kept saying to the crowd, "There are six days on which work ought to be done; come on those days and be cured, and not on the sabbath day." ¹⁵But the Lord answered him and said, "You hypocrites! Does not each of you on the sabbath untie his ox or his donkey from the manger, and lead it away to give it water? ¹⁶And ought not this woman, a daughter of Abraham whom Satan bound for eighteen long years, be set free from this bondage on the sabbath day?" ¹⁷When he said this, all his opponents were put to shame; and the entire crowd was rejoicing at all the wonderful things that he was doing.

Peace+
Vicar Brett

God gives us faith to proclaim

Vicar Brett Wilson – Mary, Mother of Our Lord – Luke 1:46-55 – August 15, 2010

Downstairs, in the t.v. room at my parents' house, on the back wall you will see proudly framed and carefully preserved one relic of my dad's past. It's a poster from a protest he participated in against the war in Vietnam. This sermon is not about war, but it is about protesting. Our first reading, from Isaiah, of course the psalm, and our gospel reading, Mary's Magnificat all share something in common – they're all songs. Songs.
If I had a hammer. Blowin' in the wind. We Shall Overcome. These are all protest songs. I didn't realize until I read that “This Land is Your Land” was written by Woody Guthrie as a protest song. We can probably all hum the tune – this land is your land. . . And it's not that the song isn't patriotic like we all think it is, but it is a protest song. Guthrie wrote it as a replacement for “God bless America,” which he thought was too unrealistic. But the last couple verses that are most prophetic, most protesting, are often left out. They read -
As I went walking, I saw a sign there,
And on the sign it said, “No Trespassing”
But on the other side, it didn't say nothing,
That side was made for you and me.

In the squares of the city, in the shadow of a steeple;
By the relief office, I'd seen my people.
As they stood there hungry,
I stood there asking,
Is this land made for you and me?

These more “realistic” verses of Guthrie's anthem are not too hard for us to visualize here in America today. With no trespassing signs a common sight in the city and how hotly debated the Mexico border has been lately, is there something deeper and harder about singing those words – this land is made for you and me – or do we think we should get to choose who the “you” is? East Point, Georgia, made the news this week because 30,000 people lined up in the streets to apply for a voucher to get help paying rent. This story, maybe not on such a scale, could take place here in Lancaster. And right here in Lancaster seeing 100 or more line up for the community meals couldn't we echo Guthrie's tongue in cheek last verse – As they stood there hungry – I stood there asking, Is this land made for you and me?
Mary's song is our gospel reading for today, and I think it is important that we take note that she sings. Singing takes a passion and power that changes our words, and Mary's too. But consider with me for a moment, that Mary's song here shares much with protest songs. A protest song is a song which is associated with a movement for social change. This is what Mary's song is. She is calling in social change. After all, couldn't Mary's song be the protest song of those people weighed down by their rent in Georgia and in Lancaster – couldn't she sing with them - “God has brought the powerful down from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly.” And for those who wait in line for community meals or for those people I saw when I visited India in January waiting for water trucks so they could just get their container filled, Mary sings with them “God has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty.”
We might picture Mary, at least in part, as this submissive, quiet, motherly, serene figure, and of course, always with the blue veil, imprinted in our minds by hundreds of paintings and Christmas pageants. But Mary's song, the testament of her faith inspired by the Holy Spirit and proclaiming God's action – there's nothing timid about it. And in many ways, it's a protest song. It's not about politics, but it is about justice. And yes, justice sometimes gets political. Mary's faith, which was later reflected in the person and mission of Jesus, is revolutionary. It's about social change. God is about social change.
But something sets Mary's song apart from most modern protest songs. There's a fundamental difference. It is protesting, advocating social change. But it's also something deeper. Mary sings, “48for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant. Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed; 49for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name. 50His mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation. 51He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. 52He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly;
53he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty.” These words do not just protest the way things are, they proclaim. This song proclaims first that God has acted in Mary's life individually. It proclaims how God has acted in the world for social justice, and in Greek the tense is like a snapshot, and can include the present. Mary is proclaiming God active in the present. She is not just protesting for social change, she is calling out God's past and current action to make that change real, here and now, in visible ways.
In the gospel of Luke Mary's song does not stand alone as a voice for social justice. In this gospel repeatedly Jesus talks about a radical reversal and leveling of fortunes. This change, social change beyond our imaginations, is real. And with the resurrection, this equation of justice is sealed once and for all, which the one who was high, lifted up on the cross so that in the end, you and I, just as lowly as the next one in the pew or on the street, so that you could be lifted up in the end. And in the end, this justice will be fully realized.
Protesting is a good thing, and we are called to do so, it's the first step to proclamation. Recognizing where social change needs to happen is the first step - protesting, and then calling God's action as you see it in that change is the second step. God gave Mary the faith to proclaim. As God gives you faith, given Mary as an example, you too can proclaim. Proclaiming is just calling out God's action where you see it in the world. You can proclaim God in what you see in the everyday – in your family, in the people you happen to meet in errands you run, wherever. Sometimes, we find it easier to remember our words when we sing them together, so we gather here each week to proclaim God active in our lives, in Lancaster, in the world. And sometimes we cannot find words to say but we know a song that fits just right – maybe it's a hymn that helps you get through your day. I have been taught that the hymn of the day is the congregation's opportunity to proclaim, pray, and preach back to the preacher.
So with the fifth verse of our hymn of the day, pray with me: Give us lips to sing God's glory, tongues God's mercy to proclaim, throats that shout the hope that fills us, mouths to speak God's holy name. Alleluia! Alleluia! May the light which God sends Fill our songs with Alleluias, Alleluias without end.

Mary, Mary

This coming Sunday happens to be August 15. August 15 happens to be the day every year when the church celebrates the festival of Mary, Mother of Our Lord. So this Sunday we will celebrate in worship this festival/feast day.

Perhaps like you, as a Lutheran I have mixed feelings/thoughts about Mary as a religious figure. My parents were both raised Roman Catholic, and that is the background of my whole extended family. Last summer I did my hospital chaplaincy internship at a very Roman Catholic Hospital, St. Mary's in Langhorne, PA. While there I went to mass at the hospital chapel every day. It was part of the experience, which I loved and learned a lot from. But often before, after, or during mass I would find my gaze drift over to my left, where a larger than life size wooden carving of Mary hung on the wall.

Mary is a complex figure. Her closeness to the divinity of Christ but also the other two parts of the trinity make her a mysterious figure. There are countless stories, traditions, and religious devotions that have developed over her since the early church. Now, people see Mary in the glass on sides of buildings, on grilled cheese, in the sun of the Mojave Desert - http://www.mt.net/~watcher/october13marymojave.html - I just saw a television documentary on this practice of devotees of the Marian movement - they take polaroid pictures directly of the sun - and claim apparitions of Mary in the rays.

I chose the image for this blog post because this stained glass image of Mary contains so many little nods and symbols and complex images - can you spot a few?

And yet, amidst the cloud of everything around her, I keep getting pulled back to what the text actually is for this Sunday - and that's what Mary says. It's her song of praise at the end of the first chapter of Luke, often called the Magnificat. This is a powerful song - what do these words say to you either within or separate from knowing Mary declares them?

⁴⁶ And Mary said,
"My soul magnifies the Lord,
⁴⁷ and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
⁴⁸ for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant.
Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed;
⁴⁹ for the Mighty One has done great things for me,
and holy is his name.
⁵⁰ His mercy is for those who fear him
from generation to generation.
⁵¹ He has shown strength with his arm;
he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.
⁵² He has brought down the powerful from their thrones,
and lifted up the lowly;
⁵³ he has filled the hungry with good things,
and sent the rich away empty.
⁵⁴ He has helped his servant Israel,
in remembrance of his mercy,
⁵⁵ according to the promise he made to our ancestors,
to Abraham and to his descendants forever."

Peace+

Vicar Brett

the mystery of grace.

"I do not at all understand the mystery of grace - only that it meets us where we are, but does not leave us where it found us."

- Anne Lamott, from Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith

This quote really struck me, and I really appreciate it reflective of part of the mystery of grace, but I would perhaps replace "it" with "God." What do you think?

This quote came yesterday from something else I subscribe to by email - the Faith and Politics Institute's Weekly Reflection. It's just a brief quote or little paragraph of reflection once a week. The FPI is an organization that seeks to serve Congress and citizens for reflections and conversation around faith and politics. Their logo, the dove with the capitol building inset, I think is an interesting mix of (quasi?) religious and distinct political imagery.

Peace+

Vicar Brett

Daily Bible Readings from the ELCA

One little devotional tool I really use and enjoy is that I am simply on the ELCA's mailing list for the daily lectionary bible reading. That way, every morning when I wake up, there it is in my inbox, reminding me of God's presence with me. I find that the lectionary reading for the day, which is standardized, so often seems to be just the verses I needed to read that day. It's pretty amazing.

To join, go to http://listserv.elca.org/cgi-bin/wa.exe?SUBED1=bible-readings&A=1 . Just type in your name and email address, and hit the "Join Bible-Readings" button at the bottom. This is a service of our churchwide offices of the ELCA, so of course you can trust that this is a secure site and they will not share your address or send you spam or absolutely anything other than the daily bible reading.

If you have time, and especially if you check your email daily, give it a try! It may be a good way to bring a short daily devotion and reminder of God's presence into your life.

Paths untrodden, perils unknown - sermon 8/8/10

Below is the sermon from yesterday, Sunday, August 8. It is primarily on the Hebrews text, though it also touches on the gospel text, Luke 12:32-40.
Here's a little secret - this was the second complete sermon I wrote this week!

Vicar Brett Wilson – Pentecost 11C – Hebrews 11:1-3, 8-16 – Christ Lutheran - 8/8/10

I like to wake up early, but I find I am often a grumpy morning person. But I really enjoy that time, at the start of the day, on the threshold of everything and anything that might happen. I like the silence and I really enjoy the devotion of praying morning prayer, which is in the LBW. One of Martin Luther's prayers I pray often for morning prayer is on page 137, and it starts -

Lord, you have called your servants to ventures of which we cannot see the ending, by paths as yet untrodden, by perils unknown.

A big part of my own sinfulness, and maybe you can relate, is that I really like to know where I am going. It's not that I don't like a nice surprise now and then, but I like to be on time, I like to be in control of my path, and know what dangers lie ahead. So praying this prayer some mornings I take a begrudging sigh - “O God, you have called your servants to ventures of which we cannot see the ending, by paths as yet untrodden, perils unknown.” So reading today's text from Genesis and Hebrews, I wonder what Abraham would have thought about this prayer. He could certainly relate. Hebrews reads “Abraham obeyed when he was called to set out for a place that he was to receive as an inheritance; and he set out, not knowing where he was going.”

Like many of the characters in the gospel reading for today, Abraham (and Sarah too!) were right on the threshold of big steps that would take them down paths unknown. Perhaps in recent days you have felt like Abraham and Sarah. This doesn't mean you can relate to taking a big journey, moving hundreds of miles without a set plan or idea, though maybe you can. Maybe you feel like you're standing on the threshold in a relationship, in your career, with your health, and you can't really see what's on the path ahead. When I pray this prayer sometimes it hits me in very practical ways – that these unknown paths might be – how I am going to make it through this next week and get everything done? How am I going to pay my next bill? How I am going to care for my parents when they are sick? What classes should I take – for that matter, what am I supposed to do with my life? In some ways these are hard words to hear and pray – that God calls us on these ventures where we don't know what is coming up ahead.

Often when I am reading the bible and something doesn't make sense or I come across a confusing parable, I have learned to ask myself – well who is God in this, and who are we? As we read together two weeks ago, Abraham often refers to himself as God's servant. So God is master, and we are, like Abraham and Sarah, servants, just like in the form of this prayer. “Lord, you have called your servants.” Now there's a lot of baggage that we attach with this idea of servitude, and even more when we are honest that every time it says “servant” in the bible it actually means “slave.” But ultimately, in every way, this relationship, God as master and us as servants – no – slaves, is a blessing, and it is our word of comfort for those paths unknown. Because in this relationship, who is in charge? The master. And the master is none other than the God who created you, who as promised to Abraham, is your shield, who is the architect of a heavenly city for you. This is the same master who in Luke's parable, returns home not to scold or command the slaves but instead to surprise them, reverse the roles, and stoop to serve them, just as Christ does on the cross that we may be forgiven.

Yes, God calls you to ventures of which we cannot see the ending, but the blessing here is – God calls you. God has called you and will call you and because this is the relationship, God will be with you on every step of that path, no matter how dark and unclear the road ahead might be or how many perils unfairly litter your life.

As the prayer continues, “Give us faith to go out with good courage, not knowing where we go, but only that your hand is leading us and your love supporting us,

Faith is trust. The assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. But it also means that as we look out from where we stand, even if we cannot see what lies ahead, we know that by faith, the world is prepared, shaped, framed, by God's word. God's word, in Christ, in scriptures, in God's action in our lives every day shapes the world around us, shapes our path ahead, and how we perceive it. God gives you faith, and God gives you eyes to see little glimpses of how God's promises are surely fulfilled. In glimpses like children offering and showing their faith in prayer at a dinner table, or snack table at VBS, in the glimpse of God's kingdom of people being fed, friends forgiving each other, families coming together, even in crisis.

God gives faith, and God gives you eyes to see that even though the path ahead cannot be mapped out with any certainty, God gives a feeling of assurance, a trust in God's presence because the promise is not that the road will be easy, as it wasn't for Abraham, but that there is no turning back. That God is not ashamed to be called your God, indeed, God has prepared a heavenly city for you. Ultimately, because there is no turning back, this is where your path leads from baptism through Christ to eternal life, and this is the sure promise, along with right now, God gives you faith to go out with good courage, like Abraham and Sarah, not knowing where you might go, but that God's hand is leading you and God's love is supporting you.

So will you pray with me. Lord, you have called your servants to ventures of which we cannot see the ending, by paths as yet untrodden, by perils unknown. Give us faith to go out with good courage, not knowing where we go, but only that your hand is leading us and your love supporting us, Through Jesus Christ, our Lord, Amen.

Peace+
Vicar Brett

on the threshold of fulfilled time

I was reading one of the commentators on this week's texts and they used this phrase that caught me - "on the threshold of fulfilled time."
All of this week's texts deal with the struggle and blessing of the concept of time. I think this is a pretty relevant theme in all of our prayer/faith lives. God's promises are sure, and we can trust them, but they're not always on our timeline.
This week's texts all have some promise from God and yet some uncertainty of timing, some sense of being right on the threshold, of awaiting that moment to come at any time:

• In Genesis (15:1-6), Abram (soon to be Abraham) is promised that his descendants are to be as numerous in the stars in the sky. But when? And now of all times - when Abram and Sarah are old and have "continued childless" - now to be on the threshold of this promise?
  
• In Hebrews (11:1-3, 8-16), we have this week the famous line "faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen." But in this passage there is also the promise that God has prepared a city for the believers, a heavenly country. This makes us think - ok - now when is that? We stand with
  
• Hthe writer and original audience of Hebrews at the threshold of the city God is preparing for us. We stand on the threshold of the things we hoped for coming true . . .
  
• In the gospel text, Luke 12:32-40, we have three separate mini-passages. The latter two are parables, both which have imagery of people literally waiting on the threshold for the master to return and of the Son of Man coming in a surprise, like a thief in the night. This is the eschatological (end-time) threshold, of the return of Christ, and maybe the most mysterious to us of God's threshold promises.
  

In all of these we are urged to be alert, ready. These are urgent, important, relevant promises of God which impact lives in real ways both in the world of the texts and in our world today. But amid all this hurrying, alertness, and strong promises, we are told not to fear.

How does it feel to stand on the threshold?
You and I stand on the threshold of God's promises daily. We are given these sure assurances, convictions, faith, but what do you see when you stand on the threshold and look ahead? Are you fearful? I know I am sometimes.
How do we live with this in the tension of the opening lines of this week's gospel: "Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom."

Peace+

Vicar Brett

What would you miss?

This past Sunday I attended my brother's wedding in Charlottesville, Virginia. I missed worshiping here at Christ Lutheran on Sunday. This even surprised me a little bit, honestly, as I have only been here just a month. I worshiped at a different congregation on Sunday, and some things in the service rubbed me the wrong way. But in any case, I just found myself missing the parts of the liturgy that were absent, and really longing for church to happen the way I wanted . . .

No church is perfect, and liturgy is what the gathered assembly does, whatever that is, it's not a set procedure or a strict list.

Visiting with some of the homebound members of CELC, I've noticed a common theme in that many of these members really miss the church services. They miss the hymns, liturgy, and even the sermons! And of course, they miss seeing their friends, the community gathered, and the space which is their church home.
But in terms of what we do in worship, what would you miss most if you were unable to worship? Are there words of the liturgy that are especially central for you? As always, feel free to comment on this post if you want! For me, some things that are really central are the confession and absolution, the hymn of praise, and the communion hymn (Lamb of God. . . )

Have a great, blessed day. Give thanks for opportunities we do have to worship, everywhere, in any way.

Peace+

Vicar Brett