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.

Holy Week in Quarantine

Like just about everyone else, the past three weeks has been an intense time filled with learning new technology and techniques for work and new protocols for just about every other aspect of life.

The Triduum services I lead in my congregation don’t tend to change all that much from year to year: songs might be swapped out, edits to language are made, and, of course, everything is still carefully reviewed several weeks out to make sure we’re not forgetting anything. Then, on Holy Monday, I typically go to a coffee shop and plan out my sermons for the rest of the week: Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. I like to do them all at once to give them a cohesive theme and arc (and also to make sure I don’t accidentally repeat myself too much!). Tuesday and Wednesday is bulletin printing and supply checking and phone call making and ticking off all the boxes on a to-do list that somehow keeps getting things added to it.

But then, it’s time. We gather for worship on Maundy Thursday and Good Friday and the Easter Vigil and while it is mentally and physically and emotionally draining to do so many impactful services in so few days, it is amazing. In a very physical and tactile way, I am able to proclaim forgiveness and feed people with Christ and banish the night with light from a candle and hold up the life-giving cross.

This year, obviously, is totally different. We will not gather in person out of love for our neighbor.

What this has meant is that the past several weeks have been a sprint of learning new technology and trying to envision how on earth we could do these services while spread so far apart and isolated.

I think we found some solutions, (you can visit stjohnslittlestown.com/virtual-worship-resources if you want to learn more) but that doesn’t mean it hasn’t been exhausting, in a totally different way than it normally is.

Holy Week is so very different…but that’s okay.

It’s okay because God is still present, God is still with us, and Jesus is still risen.

I’ll go ahead and say it a few days early: Alleluia!