Cries of Hope

Sermon preached Sunday, November 29, 2020, the First Sunday of Advent, at St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Littlestown, PA.

Our readings this week open with a powerful lament:

“O that you would tear open the heavens and come down,
so that the mountains would quake at your presence—” (Isaiah 64:1)

This is not a polite request. This is not a suggestion. This is a passionate, heart-rending, desperate cry for help.

“O that you would tear open the heavens and come down!”

I can really resonate with Isaiah. I bet you can, too.

If we think of all the fears, all the disappointments, all the rancor, all the destruction, all the pain, all the grief, all the death, all the stress, all the anxiety, all the questions…if we think of everything we’ve been through in just the last nine months, I think we all might resonate with Isaiah.

“O that you would tear open the heaves and come down!”

What would you have God do? How would you like God to act? Feel free to share in the comments.

“O that you would tear open the heavens and come down!”

Come down, and rid us of this plague.

Come down, and spare us from natural disasters.

Come down, and unite your people in love.

Come down, and fix this mess we’ve made.

It’s a fitting way to begin advent, although maybe it doesn’t seem that way on the surface. Advent is a time of waiting, of longing, of anticipation—and what are we anticipating?

“O God, that you would come down.” We anticipate God’s descent into our world and into our skin. We anticipate God’s presence in our world. We anticipate Emmanuel—God-with-us.

God-with-us then and God-with-us now. Because when we look towards Christmas, when we enter this season of waiting, we don’t just do it to pretend like we don’t know Jesus was born two thousand years ago…and we don’t do it to imply that Christ’s coming among us then didn’t matter.

No, we mark these weeks leading up to the celebration of the incarnation because we know that Christ is the one who was, who is and who is to come.

And so we look at the past and see Jesus’ life and ministry and death and resurrection.

And we look at the present and see the face of Jesus in our neighbor and the ones we love and feel the presence of Jesus among us.

And—and—we look to the future when Christ will come again and make all things new.

So even when we might be sitting in this time of disappointment and grief and loss and anxiety, we still have hope.

Hope for reconciliation.

Hope for health.

Hope for wholeness.

Hope for peace.

Hope for a new day.

Hope for new life.

Because without hope, what are we waiting for? Without hope, what are we longing for?

Even Isaiah had hope.

“O that you would open the heavens and come down!”

We, with Isaiah, hope for the new future God has in store.

Amen.

God’s Holy Imperatives

Sermon preached Sunday, August 2, 2020, the Ninth Sunday after Pentecost, at St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Littlestown, PA. 

One of my favorite books is a memoir of sorts and is actually the book we’ve been set to begin in Faith Formation for a few months now, but has been delayed. It’s written by A.J. Jacobs, who takes a unique approach to writing his books. He takes on some sort of challenge for a year and writes about his experiences with it: what he learns, how it affects his relationships, weird encounters he has……

 He calls himself a “human guinea pig.” He has written about reading the Encyclopedia from A to Z and trying to become the world’s healthiest man, but the book I’m talking about is called The Year of Living Biblically: One Man’s Humble Quest to Follow the Bible as Literally as Possible.

Jacobs goes through the bible and tries to find every rule or commandment there is. There are of course the famous ones: the Ten Commandments, love your neighbor as yourself, be fruitful and multiply. But there are more unusual ones, like Ecclesiastes 9:8 (“let your garments always be white; do not let oil be lacking on your head.”)

His encounters and experiences are sometimes funny, sometimes poignant and sometimes give new life to bible verses I’ve taken for granted.

He struggles with the question of what actually constitutes a rule or command, but eventually comes up with a list of more than 700 items. Reading his book has opened up the way I read different parts of the Bible, as he highlights things I would never have taken as a “you-must-do-this” statement. There are things that might not seem like rules or orders, but that’s kind of what they are.

Take this morning’s readings for example:

Isaiah is filled with imperatives.

“…everyone who thirsts, come…

and you that have no money, come, buy, eat!…

Come, buy wine and milk…

Listen carefully to me, and eat what is good and delight yourselves…

Incline your ear and come to me; listen, so that you may live…

See, you shall call nations…”

And then even in Matthew, there are more imperatives: “…you give them something to eat” and “bring them here to me.”

God’s voice, speaking through the prophet Isaiah and Jesus, is not making idle suggestions or merely giving advice.

At first hearing, or first reading, these verses might not seem like something remarkable, but listen one more time. Listen to what is being asked.

The first few verses of the reading from Isaiah again:

“Ho, everyone who thirsts,

come to the waters;

and you that have no money,

come, buy and eat!

Come, buy wine and milk

without money and without price.”

Imagine being told that: “Go buy some groceries, but don’t worry that you don’t have any money. You don’t need it.”

It’s incongruous. Why would people with no money be told to buy food, wine and milk?

Things get a little more “huh?” when we read Matthew. The disciples come to Jesus and say that the crowds are hungry—they need to eat! From our outsider perspective, we sometimes give the disciples a hard time here. Why would they want to send these people away? Don’t they want these people to be able to listen to and learn from Jesus?

But we have the benefit of knowing what Jesus is about to do—the disciples don’t. They aren’t being mean, or selfish or even over-protective of Jesus. Instead, they are trying to do what’s best for these people: send them away so they don’t go hungry.

Jesus, I’m sure, appreciates the sentiment. He doesn’t want them to go hungry either!

Jesus’ solution is to say to the disciples, “You give them something to eat.”

That’s it. No instructions or suggestions. No directions of any kind. Jesus doesn’t tell them where to get food or how to distribute it. There is just that simple statement: “You give them something to eat.”

I imagine the disciples reaction was something along the lines of, “You want me to do what now?” or “Got any other bright ideas?” or even, “Now, why didn’t I think of that?!”

The text has the disciples saying, “We have nothing but two loaves and fish,” but I’d be willing to bet those words were accompanied by at least one raised eyebrow or skeptical glance. The disciples were human, after all!

But this skepticism doesn’t faze Jesus. He doesn’t allow it to change his plans and he isn’t upset by it. Jesus responds to them by leading the way to the solution—he tells them to bring him the food they found and has them distribute it.

The two texts, Isaiah and Matthew, highlight this point that we often don’t know what to do, or how to do it. We know that there is something that needs to be done, but we’re at a loss to address the issue.

We, of course, have a world wide pandemic that none of us have experienced before. We know, in theory, what we should do: keep in community, help people who are struggling emotionally, or medically, or financially, try and keep as many people safe and healthy as possible, keep some semblance of our “normal” routine, find ways to gather in worship.

We know that these are things we should do…but it’s really hard to figure out how to accomplish all these things and there are so many disagreements about the best way forward.

And we know that so many in our country are divided over the “hows” on so many issues: how to provide affordable housing, how to help people rise out of poverty, how to care for people who are sick, how to feed people who are hungry, how to ensure all people are treated with equity and justice.

Faced with these large, complicated situations it’s hard to see a way forward.

But God has something in mind. God has promised to care for us and God keeps promises. When I don’t know what I can possibly do, I hear God saying those simple statements again.

God says, “You that have no money, come, buy and eat.”

God says, “You give them something to eat.”

Today, God could be saying, “Work to bring about peace and justice. Heal the nations. Clothe the naked. Feed the poor.”

Simple statements—but in the face of everything I’ve mentioned, I feel the skepticism. My eyebrows raise. I maybe even question God’s sanity that we can ever find a way forward.

And then God quietly reminds me through texts like these that my doubts don’t amount to much.

If God can provide food, milk and wine to people with no money or resources, who am I to doubt what’s possible?

If God can feed 5,000 men, and however many more women and children, with five loaves and two fish, then God really can do anything.

The best news that comes out of all of this, though, is two-fold: first of all, God can do anything and will do everything for this world created in love. Every person, every creature, every land is precious in God’s sight and God is always working towards restoration and renewal.

And secondly—most importantly—we don’t need to know how God will bring about that restoration and renewal.

We might not be able to see the way forward. We might not know how to do the things God is calling us to, but it doesn’t matter because God does.

There is evidence of God’s work already there, if we look for it.

When I am paralyzed by not knowing how I can make any sort of difference, I remember these things. I remember that God is already working. I remember that if we do what we are called to do—love our neighbor, welcome the stranger, feed the poor, clothe the hungry—God will use it for God’s good work.

We don’t need to know how to address the big problems, but God does.

And when we are the ones in need of help, in need of new life, God knows what to do then, too. We can hear God speaking to us as we put our skepticism aside and trust what God has in mind:

“Everyone who thirsts, come to the waters; you that have no money, come, buy and eat!”

Amen.

Power in the Word

Sermon preached Sunday, January 27, 2019, the Third Sunday after Epiphany, at St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Littlestown, PA. 

The Word of God has power. I don’t know if you experienced anything different this Sunday, attempting to really listen, instead of reading along. I think hearing the words, spoken aloud, does something. I think hearing the Word of God, not just reading it, can have a pretty remarkable effect on a person. After all, we hear over and over again stories in the Bible about the Word of God coming to a person and something major happening.

Thinking all the way back to the book of Genesis, to the creation of the cosmos: God’s wind, God’s breath, moves over the water. God’s word creates: “Let there be a vault between the waters…Let the water under the heavens be gathered into one place…Let the earth produce growing things…Let there be lights in the vault of the heavens to separate day from night…Let…Let…Let…” God’s creation is done through God’s word.

Later, God calls to Moses from a burning bush. God tells Moses he is called to lead the Israelites out of slavery into freedom. Moses objects, multiple times. He doesn’t believe he’s the right person for the job. He had been a part of Pharaoh’s family and asserted he could not speak well at all. God hears this and it changes nothing. God says to Moses, “Who is it that gives [humans] speech? …Is it not I, the Lord? Go now; I shall help you to speak and show you what to say.” God promises to provide the words of release to Moses.

And then, throughout the rest of the Hebrew Bible and through John the Baptist, God’s word comes to humanity through the mouths of the prophets. These people, charged with announcing God’s word to the people of Israel, to kings and rulers, to anyone who will hear, appear over and over again because God’s word is never done. “Thus says the Lord your God…” “…This is the word of the Lord of Hosts.” “Listen, Israel, to these words that the Lord has spoken against you.” “This word of the Lord came to me…The Lord God says…” God’s word, creating change, or repentance, or hope, or comfort. God’s word, for God’s people.

And then there is the first reading for this morning. We don’t often get to hear stories from the book of Nehemiah. This is the only time a reading from this book is assigned for a Sunday morning, so it’s probably not familiar, even if you’ve been going to church every Sunday for your whole life! The Israelites had been exiled to Babylon and Nehemiah tells part of the story of their return to Jerusalem. The city walls are rebuilt and it is a time of rejoicing because the people have been restored to the land.

This story about Ezra is beautiful to me. No one has heard the old stories and law read from their scrolls since the exile began. The people are longing to hear the words they are unable to read for themselves. They are desperate to hear what God has to say to them. It has been a generation of prophets urging them to be hopeful and steadfast, but it has been a struggle. And when Ezra reads the words, they weep. They may be overjoyed. They may feel convicted by the words of the law. The word is so important, so precious, so beloved—and so powerful.

When we add Jesus into the mix, things get even better. Jesus, after all, is called the “Word.” He is God’s will, God’s action, embodied and enfleshed in human skin.

When Jesus encounters the written word of God, like we hear in the Gospel of Luke, the connection becomes impossible to miss: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” (Luke 4:16-19) These words are fulfilled today. These words are fulfilled in the person of Jesus.

In Jesus the poor hear good news, captives are released, sight is recovered, the oppressed are freed and all receive the favor of God. And what does that look like? What does that really mean in the world around us? Of course, there are the literal meanings, but that is such a narrow understanding of what God can do.

If God is preaching good news to the poor, then God is saying that all are worthy of dignity, respect, and the basic resources needed for life. What else would be “good news” to someone who has no agency and no wealth?

Release to the captives and sight to the blind: could these two be connected? Release from everything that could hold someone captive: misguided judgment, grudges, guilt, shame, fear. And sight to the blind—perhaps even a lack of sight could keep someone captive, keep someone unable to see that their neighbor is connected to them or that the stranger down the street is more like them than they think.

The oppressed go free: the oppressed receive the knowledge that they are not “less than” or simply victims of “bad luck.” The oppressed receive the good news that they just as important, valuable and precious as anyone else…and any of us who find ourselves in the role of oppressor receive the good news that we don’t have to stay in that role—that we can take action to end oppression, to lift up and honor our siblings and, in the words of Isaiah, see the year of the Lord’s favor.

It could look like any of those things…and it could even look like the reading from First Corinthians. In the words of Paul, “For just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one body, so it is with Christ…we were all baptized into one body—Jews or Greeks, slaves or free…” (1 Corinthians 12:12-13) As Paul writes, we are as varied and diverse as the human body. Think about your spleen and your eye. Do they have that much in common? Do they look alike? Do they serve the same function? Would you miss one more than the other if it were to vanish one day? But in God’s eyes, each individual part is special and unique and vital to the body as a whole.

When Jesus reads from Isaiah and announces the year of the Lord’s favor, I almost hear him announcing a time when we might all actually act like we are part of the body of Christ, part of one body of Christ. If we are all part of the same body and are all seen as the precious, important individual parts we are, there should be no poor among us. There should be no captives, no blind, no oppressed. If we all already lived the way we are called to live by Paul and by Jesus…then Jesus’ sermon wouldn’t have any meaning for us still.

Because the most important part about this particular word from God, the most important part of Jesus’ proclamation in that synagogue so many centuries ago was the five-lettered opening: “Today.” “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.” Today meant then and today means now. It means that as much as we have a hoped-for future in Christ and promises of eternal life, we also have life in Christ and life together today: now, then, and every day to come. We are one body today. God brings good news to the poor today. God proclaims release to the captives, sight to the blind, and freedom to the oppressed today. Today is still the year the of Lord’s favor. This is the word of the Lord.

Amen.

What’s in a Name?

Sermon preached Sunday, January 13, 2019, Baptism of Our Lord, at St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Littlestown, PA. 

Names can have a lot of power. When we are born, names are often the first gift we are given. We have nothing in the world, no power, no wealth, no possessions, but then we are given a name—something that will belong to us for the rest of our lives. Even if we change our name, that first name will still be a part of our history.

Names are reflections of our identity, of our culture, and of our values. You share names, especially, last names, with people who come out of a similar culture. Your name might reflect a greater trend in society, when every other kid in your class had the same one. I grew up with more Katies and Ashleys than I was able to keep track of! Your name might even be one you chose as an adult, to better reflect who you understand yourself to be.

Names tell us to whom we belong. Shared family names carry weight. For those of you who have gotten married, or chosen to change your last name for your partner, I’m sure your original family name still has significance, as you celebrate traditions that came from the “Jones” side of the family or the recipe that you had every Christmas Day growing up in the “Smith” household.

Names are funny things because they both reinforce our ties and connections to others, all while keeping us independent. Our last names bind us together. Our first names assert our individuality. Names serve a lot of different purposes. Names have power.

Being called by our name is even more powerful. Sometimes it’s a silly thing: picking up our coffee at the Starbucks counter, or finally being called back to the doctor’s exam room after a long wait. There is great stock placed on being called the right name or the wrong name. Being called the right name feels good, feels right, feels validating. Being called the wrong name, however, can be frustrating, upsetting, or even feel dismissive.

What name we are called tells us who knows us well and who is a stranger. When telemarketers call and ask for “Rebecca Ajar,” I know immediately that they do not know me. And that doesn’t even scratch the surface of nicknames or pet names, the names that are only reserved for certain people. Do you have a name that only one or two other people use? It’s a special feeling, isn’t it, knowing that you have this relationship that is unique and important and valuable.

Our family knows our name, or names—the things we are called by and known as. Our friends know. Our coworkers, our acquaintances that we see occasionally as we go about our lives. All of these people know us and know our name…at least one of our names. …and so does God. God knows every name we have…and calls us by it.

“Thus says the LORD,” says the Prophet Isaiah, “Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you.” (Isaiah 43:1-2)

“I have called you by name, you are mine.” What beautiful words from the mouth of God! God, the incredible creator of the entire universe, is telling us, in no uncertain terms, that we are loved and we are God’s. We belong to God and God has given us a tangible sign of that love and belonging—God has given us baptism.

This morning we celebrate and commemorate the baptism of our Lord. Jesus, after his birth, after his presentation at the temple, after the wisemen have left, after his family fled to Egypt and returned, after growing up and becoming an adult in Nazareth, Jesus comes to the Jordan River to by baptized by John, along with everyone else waiting along the banks.

Jesus’ was baptized, and it’s like our baptism, but it is not the same. It is instead an inaugural event. It is the first baptism in a new kind of baptism. John’s baptism is for the forgiveness of sins. He proclaims that the one coming after him will baptize with the Holy Spirit and with fire. Later, Jesus tells his disciples to baptize in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

Jesus’ baptism is not to forgive his sins. It is instead a sign. As the Holy Spirit comes down from above, the voice of God is heard: “You are my son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” Jesus’ baptism tells us who Jesus is, just as our baptisms tell us who we are.

In our own baptisms, we are claimed and named by God. We are joined to Christ in the waters of baptism. We are joined to Christ, we have died to sin and been risen to new life. We have been given a new identity with our brothers and sisters in Christ. It is almost as if the sky opened again, for each one of us, and the Holy Spirit descended and the voice of God spoke again from the prophet Isaiah: “I have called you by name, you are mine.”

Do you remember the day you were baptized? Do you ever think about it? I was an infant, only about two weeks old when I was baptized. I don’t remember anything, except what I’ve seen in pictures of my Lutheran pastor Grandpa Schmitt holding me in front of a font in Hobbs, New Mexico. Is it any different for you? Were you baptized as an infant? As a teenager? As an adult? Were you baptized in a church or in the ocean like a friend of mine from high school? Was your family there and supportive or were you instead only surrounded by friends from your church community?

Truth be told, we’re not always great at remembering and recognizing our true baptismal identity in our daily life. It doesn’t really matter how the baptism happened. We believe in one baptism for the Christian church and believe, along with most other Christians, that any baptism in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, regardless of denomination is holy and true. I think, however, that we could do a better job of remembering that baptism is a life-long journey and vocation. It is not a one-time event so much as it is a starting point for our life in Christ and Christian community.

How can we live this way? Maybe starting by marking yourself with the cross when you pray or when you are feeling discouraged. Use that sign of the cross to remind yourself that you are a child of God. Martin Luther suggested that in the morning, as you wash yourself, you can splash around with the water a bit, reminding yourself of the water splashed on you in your baptism. As you encounter people with whom you disagree, as things happen that upset you or as you get frustrated or angry with people in or outside the church take a moment, stop, and think about your baptism and how they are a child of God as well. Think about how you are joined together with them in Christ and perhaps that will change the way you deal with that conflict.

Let’s take a minute and remember our baptism together. When we baptize, we make the sign of the cross on a person’s forehead. Look at the person next to you. If you’re sitting alone, you might need to shift a little bit to find a partner. Everyone have someone? Good.

Here’s what you’re going to say: [The Person’s Name], child of God, you have been sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever. I’ll repeat it: [The Person’s Name], child of God, you have been sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever. As you say it, trace a cross on the person’s forehead.

[When all have completed it:]

How do you feel? I hope you feel treasured and renewed. Baptism is incredible. It’s remarkable and life changing. It never goes away—it is a constant. We are irrevocably changed and connected to one another and to God. There is nothing we can do about it. We are named. We are claimed. We loved. We are God’s.

Amen.