We Know What Happened

Sermon preached Sunday, April 4, 2021, Resurrection of Our Lord, at St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Littlestown, PA.

A pastor I worked with in California was a professor of religion before she was ordained. In a recent conversation, she brought up a relatively obscure religious tradition: Zoroastrianism. It’s been around for thousands of years and survives into today, although there isn’t a terribly large number of adherents. Most modern-day believers in Zoroastrianism are in the Middle East or India.

You might be asking yourself, “Why is Pastor Becca talking about this random religion on Easter?” I promise, there’s a point. The thing is, Zoroastrians believe that there are two competing forces in the world: a force of life and a force of death. This duality gets expressed in other ways, too, like good versus evil or light versus dark. It’s not so different than what other religions believe and teach, but there’s one aspect of this duality that I found especially interesting.

Zoroastrians don’t claim to know what will win. In other words, the battle between life and death continues on and it’s full of suspense. This is not the action story or classic tale where the good guy always wins, the plans of the wicked are foiled and a happy ending is a given. No, for these believers the struggle is real and could go either way. Life or death could win. It’s a 50/50 bet. Every day could be lived with the anxiety of not knowing.

All too often, we live this way, like we’re not sure what will happen, like we’re not sure if life or death, good or evil will become triumphant. I fall into this trap from time to time, don’t you? We watch the news worriedly, like the death, violence, cruelty and greed reported on is all there is. We wring our hands about the state of public Christianity as if our witness isn’t most powerful when it is lived out in our everyday lives. We stress about whether or not we are good enough at our jobs, or for our family, or for God and have trouble remembering that we are already good—so much more than “good enough.” We see this battle in so many aspects of our lives: life versus death. Good versus evil. We live in anxious anticipation of what might win.

But today we hear the end of the story: God wins. Life wins.

Death tried incredibly hard. Death and the forces of sin were out in full force. God came to live among a broken humanity and we couldn’t handle how loving and full of grace and welcome this God was. Sin worked overtime in us to put this God we rejected to death…and sin thought it had won. Death thought it had won.

But we know what happened. At early dawn, a group of women came to the tomb expecting to find the body of the teacher, Lord, and friend. We know what happened: the tomb was empty and the women remembered all that Jesus had said about dying and rising again. We know what happened: Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary, the mother of James, and the other women became the first evangelists, the first ones to proclaim the good news that Jesus the Christ had risen from the dead. We know what happened: most of the disciples did not believe them, but Peter did and ran to the tomb to see it all for himself.

We know what happened: the story of Christ’s resurrection from the dead spread and the message of God’s love for all of humanity made its way to every corner of the world. We know what happened: Paul wrote to the early Christian’s in Corinth about it.

²⁰But in fact Christ has been raised from the dead, the first fruits of those who have died. ²¹For since death came through a human being, the resurrection of the dead has also come through a human being; ²²for as all die in Adam, so all will be made alive in Christ. ²³But each in his own order: Christ the first fruits, then at his coming those who belong to Christ. ²⁴Then comes the end, when he hands over the kingdom to God the Father, after he has destroyed every ruler and every authority and power. ²⁵For he must reign until he has put all his enemies under his feet. ²⁶The last enemy to be destroyed is death. (1 Corinthians 15:20-26)

This what has happened. We know the end of the story.

None of this is to say that there will never be any suffering or pain or even death. Ultimately, though, we know that these forces have been destroyed. Ultimately, we know they have been defeated.

This knowledge is best expressed through a story I heard from another pastor colleague. He was at a nursing home on Friday, leading a Good Friday service in the chapel there for its residents. Just before the service began, a woman called him over to her chair. She told him that she lived in an assisted living facility nearby, but was having some health problems that put her temporarily in the nursing home. Then she told him she was scared. “I’m scared to death,” she said, “Just scared to death.” He asked her what she was scared of and she didn’t mince words, so I’ll edit a bit for more tender ears: “This sickness. It’s a bear. It’s a freakin’ bear. But even if it gets me, God wins.” Even if it gets me…God wins. She knew the end of the story.

And even this year, when the world feels upside down and so many of the things we’ve taken for granted gone from our lives, this fact is still true.

We know the end of the story. We proclaim it here every Sunday. In thanksgiving for our baptism, we proclaim that God has provided life-giving water. The readings remind us of all the ways God has already acted in human history. In the Nicene Creed, we end by stating, “We look for the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come. In communion, we are welcomed to a table with bread and wine, the body and blood of Christ, that sustains us in this life and keeps us in God’s grace. We leave, ready to share the good news of God’s victory to all who will listen.

We know the end of the story. Allelluia! Christ is Risen. Amen.

God Acts

Sermon preached Saturday, April 3, 2021, Vigil of Easter, at St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Littlestown, PA.

We’ve all heard a lot today. From the Easter Proclamation that began our worship in which we cried out “This is the night!” to the Resurrection account from the Gospel of John…we’ve heard all about God’s work throughout human history.

Frankly…I don’t think I have much to add. I think the texts, largely, can speak for themselves.

There’s a recurring theme in the readings. Over and over again, we heard about the ways in which God has acted.

We began at Creation—is there a better place to start? In the midst of chaos and a formless void, God calls forth light and life. Piece by piece, our world is created: land, sea, stars, animals, humanity, vegetation. God acts and life is created.

Next, we heard of the flood, when God, after coming close to giving up on creation completely, resolved to never again abandon humanity.

Then we heard one of the touchstone moments of our faith’s history. After years of slavery and hard labor in Egypt, God decides to work through Moses to free God’s people Israel. Moses has led the Israelite people out of Egypt, but before they can be fully free from Pharaoh’s grasp, they are faced with an sea they cannot cross. The Egyptian army is advancing and death and destruction seem imminent. But we have a God who acts. And this God who acts parts the sea and the Israelite’s walk through on dry land to safety.

Our reading from Isaiah has a different feeling. It is the prophet, Isaiah, proclaiming the words of God. These words, written for Israelites in exile from the promised land, have imperatives: Come! Buy! Drink! Eat! Even in exile, even in despair, God prepares a table for all with water, milk, and wine. Even in tragedy, God is acting to sustain and fill God’s people. And those last few verses? They sum it all up:

“¹⁰For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven,

          and do not return there until they have watered the earth,

          making it bring forth and sprout,

          giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater,

  ¹¹so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth;

          it shall not return to me empty,

          but it shall accomplish that which I purpose,

          and succeed in the thing for which I sent it.” (Isaiah 55:10-11)

God’s word does not return empty—it always accomplishes. God’s promises are not in vain—God acts and things happen.

The pinnacle of these texts, of course, is the story of the empty tomb. The whole life, death, and resurrection of Christ is a sign of who powerfully God acts. God acted and came to us in human flesh. God acted and performed miracles, welcomed the outcast, fed the hungry, forgave sins, and proclaimed the expansive love of God. God acted and was crucified by a humanity that would not welcome that expansive love. And—the best part—God acted and came back. The resurrection promises us that God can and will continue to act even after it seems like death has ended it all.

One of our first theologians, Paul, knew this and in his letter to the Romans reminded everyone that God’s action didn’t stop with the resurrection with Christ. God’s action goes on!

³Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death?  ⁴Therefore we have been buried with him by baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life.

⁵For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his.  (Romans 6:3-5a)

God’s continuing action means that God continues to give us new life. We are forever joined to Christ in our baptism and there is nothing we can do about it. Our ever-loving God will never abandon us and will always be acting to bring about reconciliation in all of creation.

In the end, it goes back to the beginning. The beginning of creation, the beginning of our service. As I inscribed our new paschal candle, I said these words: “Christ, yesterday and today, the beginning and the ending. To Christ belongs all time and all the ages to Christ belongs glory and dominion now and forever.” Or, to put it another way on at this Easter Vigil, “Christ has died, Christ is Risen, Christ will come again.” Our words proclaim the power of God’s action, then and now.

Resurrection that happened then and resurrection that continues to happen over and over again. Alleluia! Christ is risen! God has acted!

Amen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Recognizing Our Role

Sermon preached Friday, April 2, 2021, Good Friday, at St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Littlestown, PA.

We’re here on a day that only happens once a year. Some of the rituals, prayers, and practices we participate in tonight are unique. Some might even seem strange…but they’re important. It can be easy, too, to get confused about what it is we’re doing here. The altar is stripped. The sanctuary is more bare than it normally is. I’m not wearing an alb or a stole. We will not be having communion. Tonight is more solemn. More somber. More serious.

It might even look like a funeral. It might look like we’re holding a funeral for Jesus two thousand years later, pretending that we don’t know Easter is around the corner. It might look like we’re playing pretend or forcing ourselves to try and “be sad enough” because, we’ll Jesus died tonight and we’re supposed to be in mourning…

That’s what it might look like—but that’s not what Good Friday is. That’s not why we are gathered here tonight.

Good Friday is an observance of the death of Christ, yes, of course it is. But we are not pretending to crucify him again. We are not pretending like we don’t know the end of the story. Instead, we are here to witness it, to stand at the foot of the cross and worship our God who loved us to the end. And, we are here to recognize our role in the passion of Christ.

You might ask yourself, “Recognize our role? We weren’t alive two thousand years ago! We didn’t deny Christ! We didn’t ask for Barabbas! We didn’t mock Jesus on the cross! We didn’t yell ‘Crucify him!’”

Of course not. But we are humans, part of the fallen humanity that refused to accept a God who offered reconciliation instead of a sword and solidarity with the outcast instead of institutional power. We are part of the humanity who couldn’t handle a God with love so abundant and far-reaching…and so we did the only thing we could think of—we killed him. Tonight, we recognize that we are not innocent in the crucifixion of Jesus. We are complicit.

One of the ways in which we name that complicity is through this service and the Solemn Reproaches, in particular. Towards the end of the service, I will read several stanzas, written as if God were speaking to all of us. Each stanza begins, “O my people, O my church…” These words, words that are hundreds of years old, are still for our ears. In each stanza, God tells us, tells humanity, what God has done and what we have done in return. Whereas God has given us life and light and healing, we continually turn away from God and go our own way.

On Good Friday, it is easy to look at the figures in the passion narrative and feel superior. We are not like Pilate, we tell ourselves. We are not like the Romans. We are not like the crowds shouting for Barabbas. We are not like Peter denying even knowing Jesus. We are not like those people, we assert.

…but we are. And the Solemn Reproaches don’t let us forget that fact. Every stanza, after God repeats all the good that God has done, ends the same way: “…but you have prepared a cross for your savior.” That’s it. We are those people. We have prepared a cross. And tonight, we gather at the foot of it.

The “Good” of Good Friday comes here. The stanzas of the Solemn Reproaches aren’t the final word. They’re not purely condemnation. They’re not meant to just make us feel guilty or depressed or to beat ourselves up. They’re an acknowledgement, an admission of our sin—and then a plea. The refrain of the Reproaches is a plea for mercy: “Holy, holy, holy God, holy and mighty, holy and immortal, have mercy on us.” We cry out to God in praise and in supplication for forgiveness.

Good Friday is “good” because God is good. Good Friday is “good” because God forgives us and loves us, even though we are “those” people. Good Friday is “good” because God came and died for us because we are “those people.”

“Holy God, holy and mighty, holy and immortal, have mercy on us.” Amen.

A New Way

Sermon preached Thursday, April 1, 2021, Maundy Thursday, at St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Littlestown, PA.

As I was preparing my sermon for tonight, I was really struck by the Gospel story in a new way.

I don’t say that lightly. The story of the Last Supper, Jesus’ last evening with his disciples, is incredibly well known. Not only do we hear it every Holy Week on Maundy Thursday, but we hear segments of this Farewell Discourse throughout the year, and we are reminded of it each time we partake in communion.

Even still, I heard it anew, especially the ending.

Jesus says, “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. ³⁵By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

Even here, even at the end of it all, even though he’s about to be betrayed and denied and beaten and executed—he still has love on his mind.

That’s what this meal is about: love.

And this love is for everyone.

This love is for Judas, who we know is secretly plotting. He is going to tip off the chief priests and lead them to Jesus. And still, Jesus washes his feet. And still, Jesus offers him the same bread and wine.

And this love is for Peter, who we know will end up resorting to violence and denying him. Still, Jesus washes his feet. Still, Jesus offers him the same bread and wine.

And this love is for all those disciples in the upper room, the ones who will hid until Jesus appears to them and struggle to find their way forward.

Still, Jesus washes their feet. Still, Jesus offers them the same bread and wine.

And what’s more?

This love is even, miraculously, blessedly, thankfully, for us, too.

We, who will value power or money over God.

We, who will deny God when things get tough.

We, who will hide when we are afraid.

We, who will hurt our neighbor and be selfish and ignore the injustices around us.

Somehow, God’s abundant, unending love is for us—for us to receive and for us to share. To share freely—with no litmus test to judge another’s qualifications or divisions set up by our politics.

Love—God’s love—is above it all.

Jesus says, “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. ³⁵By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

Let’s be sure that’s what others see.

Amen.