Link to the Audio File for my sermon from Sunday, December 27th

Here's the link to the audio file for my sermon from Sunday, December 27th, 2009.  This was the Sunday after Christmas Day and we had more snow.  So we had a smaller crowd, and the preacher didn't always follow the manuscript.  If you want to see where the sermon "started," the manuscript is below, but differs from the presentation in some ways. 

Click here for the link:

http://www.box.net/shared/nimquitqct

As always, thanks for checking it out. 

Merry Christmas. 

The Text of my sermon from Sunday, December 27th, 2009

The 1st Sunday after Christmas Day; December 27, 2009
Park Avenue Presbyterian Church; Des Moines, Iowa
Texts: 1 Samuel 2: 18-20, 26
Psalm 148
Colossians 3: 12-17
Luke 2: 41-52 * 

 

“What Did Mary Treasure in her Heart?”

 
--} A lot of people believe that Luke’s story about Jesus staying behind in Jerusalem has a lot of symbolism to it.

• Jesus IN Jerusalem;
• His parents searching for him for 3 days;
• Jesus undergoing questioning and answering;

The point, perhaps, being to offer readers and hearers a prelude to Luke’s final chapters—when Jesus will sneak back to Jerusalem again; when he will undergo a different kind of questioning and answering; when the world will languish for 3 days, searching frantically in hope for what seems impossible. Luke’s preparation for the end?—even before we have a full beginning?

 

But Luke’s story is chocked full of interesting facts—not just symbolism, but real details:

• Mary and Joseph were annual pilgrims, who celebrated Passover IN JERUSALEM;
• Jesus would have grown up, going to Jerusalem for Passover, too;
• Jesus, at the age between child-hood and adult-hood, slips away from his parents and stays behind in Jerusalem at the Temple, questioning and teaching with the religious leaders and quite impressing them;
• And Mary again “treasured” all these things in her heart.

It’s an impressive list that demonstrates a number of things we might not have thought about:

• This is an incredibly “religious” family.
• Mary and Joseph were “people of means;” pilgrimages being quite expensive, and they went “annually.”
• Jesus might not be demonstrating the prowess of the “son of God” as much as he was demonstrating what it meant to live a life of faithfulness.
• AND, there’s this business of “treasuring” ALL these things, too.  

These are important details to remember. But there are some other details, too.

 

Mary presents an interesting problem. In all honesty, Mary isn’t supposed to be in the picture. Women didn’t often travel, and especially not for religious festivals. While men are required to pilgrimage to Jerusalem at least once, women are not. While men are required to keep Sabbath observances; women are not. By all rights, Mary would have “stuck out” like a sore thumb; especially in Jerusalem. At Temple, as in every Synagogue, the men worship separated from the women; and it’s an almost certainty that Mary wouldn’t have been in the Temple to “find” Jesus, but at least that Joseph would have to go in bring him out.

 

Similarly, Mary wouldn’t have ordinarily “traveled” with Joseph to Bethlehem, to be registered, either. It’s thought that because she was with child and near to delivering that she left with Joseph so that she would be “out of town,” thusly avoiding social shame. So even in Bethlehem, for the Christmas story, Mary is out of place. And one of the “connections,” is that both at the birth, and then again at the Temple, Mary is said to have “treasured” or “kept” these things in her heart.

 

“His mother treasured all these things in her heart.” “Treasure,” is a word that is related to “to guard or protect someone,” or “to preserve.” In the New Testament, the world appears in the story about putting new wine into old wineskins; the new wineskins would “preserve” the wine. In the Old Testament, the word is associated with the story of Jacob, Joseph’s Father, and Joseph’s brothers. In Genesis 37, Joseph has a dream about his own greatness, of his father and brothers bowing down to him. And the writer tells us, “So his brothers were jealous of him, but his father kept the matter in mind.”

 

At first glance, “keeping the matter in mind” sounds similar to “treasuring all these things.” Both phrases originate from the same kind of word, suggesting that it’s about “remembering” or “preserving the events” for later. But is that really what Luke would have us think Mary is up to?

 

Jacob seems to be planting a seed for later, kind of like “waiting and seeing” what will turn out. Perhaps that’s what we would believe about Mary, that she’s neatly putting away the events, “just waiting to see what would happen.” But she already knows the prophecy about Jesus; she’s heard the voice of the angel. She’s already the insider.

 

But Luke is telling us that Mary treasures ALL these things; and there’s a list. She began “pondering” when the angel Gabriel appeared to her; but she’s also been pondering the words of the shepherds; the prophesies of Simeon and Anna at the Temple, and Simeon who says, “This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed—and a sword will pierce your own soul too.”

 

One possibility is that Luke is preparing believers for the “surprise ending” in Jerusalem that is to come at the end of the gospel. But another possibility is what Mary is “treasuring” and “why?” and perhaps, what we need to be “treasuring.”

 

A couple of weeks ago, we encountered Mary responding to the angel and God’s message with, “here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” We “picked her” as a kind of “model” of responding to God’s immediacy. Many of us like that model. God calls, we respond. But surely Mary knows—at least by the time that Jesus is 12—that it’s not always so easy. We promise ourselves that “if” or “when” God calls us, we’ll respond with, “oh sure, God, I’d love to.”

 

But in today’s story, the “model” is “treasuring.” It’s paying attention to the things people say and do—and remembering. And perhaps more than a preview of what’s going to happen at the end of the story, Luke is intentional about us recording the details and “remembering them for later.” Details that might rearrange how we see and know the story—details that may seem insignificant in any given moment, but then become crucial. Details like:

• “you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David.”
• “Nothing will be impossible with God.”
• “He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty.”
• “To you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord.”
• “Simeon took him in his arms and praised God, saying, “my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel.”
• “This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed—and a sword will pierce your own soul too.”
• “After three days they found him in the temple, sitting among the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions. And all who heard him were amazed at his understanding and his answers.”

These “details” that Mary seems to “treasure” are a kind of mixed bag—good and bad. But they also carry within them the story of one who is supposed to guide our lives. Details that remind us about salvation, and the costs of working toward that salvation. Details that enlighten and lighten our hearts’ joy; and details that put the fear of struggle and difficulty upon us. Details that liberate, and details that restrain.

 

God is calling us all to a special kind of life in Jesus. No more or less for Mary than for ourselves. God is calling us to take account, to “treasure,” to put inside ourselves “special remembrances.” And I suppose not the kind of “special remembrances” that make us just feel good; but the ones that remind us who this “one” truly is. That this is God come among us; God having us live into a life of salvation.

 

It is striking to me that Mary is not just “remembering” as a parent, a mother; but as a human being—as one of us. She’s “remembering,” because “remembering” is always going to be our guide. “Remembering” not just a birth, or a death, or a resurrection—but all the things that Jesus says and does; the people he meets, the words that are said, the people he liberates, the challenges he puts before us.

 

What’s striking to me is that Luke tells us that Mary and Joseph where incredibly religious—the followed all the rituals, including annual pilgrimages to Jerusalem for Passover. Their lives already demonstrated what it meant to keep covenant with God. Jesus learns from some of the best people; and offers us a similar kind of journey if we are but willing.

 

But if we dare to “remember,” we may find ourselves called and invited into a different way of being—not just defined by what we “hope for,” but by what we’re willing to “do” to host the presence of the living God among us. The details about “who” this Jesus is; what he “says,” the things he “does,” the way he “lives” the stuff he “teaches”—that’s what we need to remember. So that we can make our lives look and be like his. Some people believe Luke may be preparing readers and hearers for the “end” of his story; but perhaps his intention is to prepare us for ours.

 

So “treasure” the details; and keep the for future reference. And reference them frequently and often. From the beginning of your spiritual journey, to the end of your life.

 

--+ AMEN.

 

Link to the Audio File for my sermon from December 24th

Here's the link to the audio file for my sermon from Christmas Eve Worship on December 24th.  We had a major winter storm winding up that evening, so we had a light crowd, and the preacher didn't have a manuscript. 

http://www.box.net/shared/eaut1t8c56

As we celebrate the nativity of Christ and the indwelling of God among us, here's a picture from "our" version of the story from a couple of weeks ago. 

As always, thanks for checking this out. 

A "sheep" getting close to baby Jesus at our annual Christmas Pageant

Merry Christmas! 

The Text of my sermon from Sunday, December 20th

The 4th Sunday of Advent; December 20, 2009
Park Avenue Presbyterian Church; Des Moines, Iowa
Texts: Micah 5: 2-5a
Luke 1: 47-55
Hebrews 10: 5-10
Luke 1: 26-45 *

“The Angel Came, Mary Went, Jesus Lives”

--} Today is the last Sunday before Christmas. For those of you waiting for Christmas—we’re almost there! Is it time to be excited yet? We’re always excited this time of year! And we should be. What’s waiting up ahead of us at the conclusion of this spiritual season is GREAT good news! It begins with promises and is initiated by the announcement that things are underway. The appearances of the Angel Gabriel tell us God is coming.

Luke’s word that a vision is being fulfilled with Zechariah and Elizabeth, and that the angel Gabriel has visited Mary—is the announcement that God’s story is being brought to fruition. We believe that God decisively entered (past tense) the world in Jesus Christ—a story that begins with Mary and her family and her family history in getting to Nazareth. And while we come to the story from our perspective of “what a beautiful thing to have happen”—the birth of a child—still, worldly realities creep upon this grand invasion for our benefit.

Though we ultimately believe Luke’s story is “all good news,” think with me for a moment about just “what” makes it good?

• Though “chosen by God,” Mary likely has to endure the social criticism of being a young, unwed mother; which may in fact, precipitate her visit to Elizabeth’s—to avoid social scrutiny or bringing shame upon her family.
• Beyond the hardship of being pointed out as someone with lesser morals, the journey to Elizabeth’s and back would have been long and difficult with its own set of dangers; and she was essentially exiled from her immediate family in favor of a distant cousin.
• Tradition holds that Mary and her family were first-century cave-dwellers—which shouldn’t have the stigma we might attach to “cave-dweller” today; they lived as the other 300-400 residents of Nazareth did, on a mountainside. Markings on rocks nearby, dated to the first century, indicated the “location” of some caves being an important site related to Mary; thus, Crusaders who found the marks were the first to build a large church in Nazareth. The picture on your bulletin cover of the “sanctuary” with the altar was believed to be Mary’s home; the other “cave” pictured was believed to have been one of Mary’s neighbors, and depicts better what the living conditions might have been.
• Certainly not people of opulent living, Mary and her family were Galileans trying to make a simple living and serve God. So that “Nazareth” makes a pretty good place for the Angel Gabriel to have appeared looking for humble servants for a specially-chosen mission. Another tradition is that Gabriel’s “appearance” to Mary took place at the well where everyone gathered water. The other pictures on the bulletin are of the famous painting of that story, with Gabriel speaking to Mary who is depicted with the child, Jesus, in her womb; and the actual “well” as it appears in the Church of St. Gabriel, today.
• So this “good thing” we believe God is doing or has done in the world is complicated by our human living. It’s not an “easy” or “simple” matter that God sends an Angel to tap Mary and ask her to bear God’s son. It doesn’t reside on how much or how little we might “believe” in these things, but rather the powerful importance of what God is doing. And not just for Mary and her life—it should also point us to our own lives and invites us to ask the question, “what is God doing in my own life?”—in the midst of MY daily realities?

We celebrate “Christmas”—the incarnation—not because Jesus is born, but because God is changing the world! Our celebration of Christmas—while while it’s related to the details of Mary’s life and God’s special role for her, and the story of Jesus being born—is ultimately the whole story about God’s ability and willingness to change the trajectory of human living. And while the season of Advent ramps up to that famous story we’ll share once again on Christmas Eve, the story about Mary and Elizabeth and the Angel is pregnant with other meanings and themes worthy of our exploration.

For my own self, I almost always hear the “Christmas stories” as being really divorced from the lives we live today. I think of them as “biblical stories” without associating them with my own personal experiences. I don’t often think of Mary as one who surely must have endured ridicule for being an unwed, pregnant, teenager—who’s father and mother may likely have wanted her out of the house to avoid their own shame. That surely, part of why Mary goes to see Elizabeth was not moral support, but to hide the fact that she was with child; and when she returns to Nazareth, Luke portrays she and Joseph leaving for Bethlehem pretty quickly. What else might we know to be true for Mary and Elizabeth because of our own experiences in the world that are similar to theirs?

I’d like to think that we’re past some of those issues in our own time; but we are not. We still presume it to be inappropriate: young, unwed, teenage mothers. In the same way we make assumptions about people who are homeless or “not-properly-documented workers” who come to our country in violation of immigration laws. Or maybe it’s how we react to same-sex marriages.

But what the “true” Christmas story invites us to consider is not just “how” a baby would be born to Mary as a “savior,” but the reality that God chooses decisively to enter our world for the purpose of changing human living for the better. That God comes to us as one inhabiting flesh and blood like ours to help us see it’s possible to live in new ways—even when we have been wrong, or especially when we have done wrong! Jesus’ whole life story represents the possibility of life out of death, and new possibilities where none are envisioned before. And it changes the whole nature of what we know about God and ourselves—beginning with visits from Gabriel and visitations among human beings.

These appearance stories announce pregnancies. In the Greek Orthodox tradition Mary is often pictured either with a child Jesus, or, Mary is presented with Jesus clearly “en-fleshed” in her womb. You can see that in the picture on the front cover where Gabriel and Mary are talking. So what if our Advent could remind us that we, too, are en-fleshed with the possibility of the living Christ? Not that we physically give birth to a savior, but that by virtue of God’s incarnation (a past-tense event), we are all “pregnant” with the reality that God is with us—a possibility that can change how we live and what we choose.

By virtue of the incarnation we celebrate, we KNOW that Christ has come among us. And that “coming among us” is meant to change us—not just give us a holiday. We are opened to the possibility of changed attitudes, changed beliefs, changed lives—because God came into the world. Mary is perhaps as innocent as we are in the sense that suddenly, one day God appears to her in the form of the Angel Gabriel—announcing new life and new possibilities. If Mary is the model, she begs the question of us: How has God “appeared in your life?”

And as Mary goes quickly to Elizabeth to share the news, perhaps to try and understand better what all this might mean, she remains the model for our own sharing. Christ’s en-fleshment requires a shared contemplation. It’s not so much a private matter between us and God, it needs to be a shared reality with the assumption that Christ is in and through all of us. Mary and Elizabeth a part of the same story, as we know as brothers and sisters of Christ, we are a part of the same story, too.

Christmas is a time, not just for celebrating the birth story of Jesus, but for us to be reminded of God’s work of changing human living. It’s a time for contemplating the times and places that God has appeared to us. It is a time to acknowledge the “pregnant possibilities” that exist in all of us, because God decided to decisively enter the world and become flesh and dwell among us. Let us contemplate those things, as we come again to celebrate and acknowledge what God did, collaborating with Mary a long time ago, and not forget what God intends to do in collaborating with us, as well.

To celebrate Christmas, is to celebrate not just a birth, but the pregnant possibilities in all of us: possibilities that our living can be changed for the better; possibilities that we can carry the Spirit of Christ to others; possibilities that we will discover new yearnings and new ways to participate with God. As we recall Mary’s story, and what we think was an emphatic: “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word;” let us ponder not just the holiday that is coming upon us, but also the power of God that works with us and among us. Let us celebrate, not just a festive remembrance of an occasion long ago, but the ability for us to say emphatically, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” And we should know that our living is not the same, because we celebrate the God who came into the world as one of us, to transform and transfigure how we live—so that we live not just for ourselves, but for others.


--+ AMEN.

Here's the link to the audio file for my sermon from December 20th

Here's the link to the audio file for my sermon from December 20th, 2009--the Fourth Sunday of Advent. 

http://www.box.net/shared/0qzd7ljxvl


I used several pictures and reflections from my recent trip to Israel. 

As always, thanks for checking this out! 

Here's the text of my sermon from Sunday, December 13th

The 3rd Sunday of Advent; December 13, 2009
Park Avenue Presbyterian Church; Des Moines, Iowa
Texts: Zephaniah 3: 14-20
Isaiah 12: 2-6
Philippians 4: 4-7
Luke 3: 7-18 *

“What then should we do? Teacher, what should we do? And what should WE do?”



--} By the third week of Advent, perhaps you’re thinking, “we’re at least half-way through!” Surely by now, it’s OK to get into the “Christmas Spirit,” isn’t it?

John the Baptizer called the anxious crowds who went into the wilderness to see and hear him, “you brood of vipers! …even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees”. And even with such harsh words, the crowds were still “filled with expectation” thronging to hear his exhortations and seeking the answer to their questions: “whether or not John might be the Messiah?” So maybe, just “MAYBE,” we’re not so bad off—feeling excited about our own encounter with the coming One.

But I’ve been puzzling over how confusing this time often is for us—Advent or Christmas; kind of like the expectant and anxious crowds who thought John the Baptist might be the promised messiah. We get excited and reverse the seasons, changing advent for Christmas, but we don’t confuse John the Baptist with Jesus, and maybe we should!

When first-century people confused Jesus with the “Messiah,” it was often about Jesus being the one who comes to lead the overthrow of the Romans; the one who would dare to claim a kingship in this world on behalf of God; the one who displaces and replaces worldly powers. But as it turns out, Jesus IS NOT “that” Messiah. And though Luke tells us that those waiting anxiously and expectantly and who heard John, got messianic visions—neither is John the Baptizer. When first-century people confused Jesus with the “Messiah,” it was often about Jesus being the one who comes to lead the overthrow of the Romans; the one who would dare to claim a kingship in this world on behalf of God; the one who displaces and replaces worldly powers. But as it turns out, Jesus IS NOT “that” Messiah. And though Luke tells us that those waiting anxiously and expectantly and who heard John, got messianic visions—neither is John the Baptizer.

John the Baptist was known as a “fiery” preacher and teacher, which at least was part of his appeal. So he’s right in his element talking about the ax at the root of the trees not bearing good fruit and being cut down and thrown into the fire; or the chaff burned with unquenchable fire; or even what seems to be the “fire of purification” as the “one after him” is said to “baptize” with the Holy Spirit and with fire. It might be a “curious” message, but hardly a “popular” one with judgment in the offing for lots of folks. But when the crowds ask, “what shall we do,” something extraordinary happens.

In the heart of John the Baptist’s instructions to the crowds we find an incredible “Jesus message” of social justice and righteousness:

“The crowds asked John, ‘What then should we do?’ and in reply he said to them, ‘Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none; and whoever has food must do likewise.’ Even tax collectors came to be baptized, and they asked him, ‘Teacher, what should we do?’ John said to them, ‘Collect no more than the amount prescribed for you.’ Soldiers also asked him, ‘And we, what should we do?’ and John said to them, “Do not extort money from anyone by threats or false accusation, and be satisfied with your wages’.”

Suddenly, John is about more than a “threat” of “fiery punishment,” but rather has a fiery spirit for justice being served—promising not detrimental consequences but a new way of life—the same kind of life Jesus will go on to embody and teach. Compare these verses with Jesus’ later ministry, and we’d find a lot of similarities for Christ-followers; but knowing that John the Baptist appears before Jesus’ ministry is established, and the comparison is backwards. Jesus appears more like John the Baptist rather than John the Baptist looks like Jesus.

So if John the Baptizer is being confused with the Messiah, it’s not that he’s being confused with Jesus; it’s his prophetic voice and fiery message that seems to match the “promised one.” John is in the wilderness, appearing as if he’s building a popular following with fiery preaching and the promises of the winnowing fork and burning chaff, speaking to what is to come. And Jesus should be proud.

So, if there were a bunch of people just waiting around so “see” Jesus…? If there were a bunch of people just waiting around, hoping to “walk in Jesus’ ways”…? If there were a bunch of people, thinking that Jesus and his ministry might be “interesting,” at least…? …John the Baptist surely must be a surprise—not because of his fiery reputation, but because of his social-justice viewpoints. If there were a bunch of people just sitting around and “waiting” for Jesus, perhaps a better opportunity is provided by actually listening to John’s perspective.

• Whoever has two coats must share one (even in this cold weather!);
• Whoever has food must do likewise (even if you don’t have a double-supply);
• Take in no more than your share, or what you’re actually due, or have earned—really;
• And be satisfied with your wages, never resorting to false means to obtain more.

Surely, John the Baptist already has in mind what Jesus will eventually proclaim: “In everything do to others as you would have them do to you; for this is the law and the prophets.”

Luke clearly sees John the Baptist as Isaiah’s “voice” crying out in the wilderness, “prepare the way of the Lord.” But John the Baptist isn’t simply an “announcer” that “Jesus is coming.” Instead, he too is a “proclaimer,” one who claims the present time and the present kingdom to be Christ’s own—but not by virtue of Jesus’ coming, all by itself. Instead, John proclaims a whole new way of being, a whole new ethic for those who would be looking for Jesus. John the Baptist issues any would-be believers the challenge of not just waiting for Jesus to “come,” but to get to work living the Kingdom’s values. Because living the kingdom’s values sets the stage; and when the stage is set, Jesus comes—not in fiery judgment, but final salvation. If you want to celebrate Jesus, then demonstrate the ways of the kingdom where Jesus resides; so that he may come and be at home with us.

At the beginning of this so-called “holiday season,” when “Thanksgiving” often marks the acceptable beginning of the rush toward Christmas celebrating—with shopping and parties and programs all coming earlier and earlier as if December 25th comes with the plague—we used to believe that we were getting ready to celebrate the birth of Jesus. But by this third week of Advent, we grow weary of the waiting. Maybe we still are trying to celebrate Jesus’ birth as we try to remind ourselves frequently and often that “Jesus is the reason for this season;” but John the Baptist opens the door to a whole different kind of “preparation” doesn’t he? Saying to the “brood of vipers” who seemingly wanted to escape the realities of their own day—“who warned you to flee from the wrath to come?” We too, can be so busy with our Christmas rush and our Christmas fuss that we can’t see anymore those who have no coats or less food; those who are taken advantage of; those threatened with violence. And our focus on our holiday celebrations—while filling us with cheer—is precisely the kind of escapism John the Baptist accuses the “brood of vipers” of.

The good news of this season is not just to be found in the Christmas birth story—but the new world God is bringing into being in Jesus. John the Baptist sets the tone, points anyone who would seek to follow Jesus toward the pathway of Jesus’ ministry—selfless giving, and caring for others as much as or even above ourselves. And while we’ll all do a lot this season to think of others, and we’ll add in a little extra for various organizations and “good causes,” we’ll still be way over-focused on things that aren’t “the reason for this season.” Listen to the prophet when the others ask, “what then shall we do?” And be a prophet, a “preparer” for Jesus’ way—by taking up the mantle:

• Whoever has two coats must share one (even in this cold weather!);
• Whoever has food must do likewise (even if you don’t have a double-supply);
• Take in no more than your share, or what you’re actually due, or have earned—really;
• And be satisfied with your wages, never resorting to false means to obtain more.

And you will be blessed by God, and be a blessing to others.

--+ AMEN.

Here's the link to the audio file for my sermon from December 13th

Here's the link to the audio file for my sermon from Sunday, December 13th, 2009.  This was the 3rd Sunday in Advent. 


http://www.box.net/shared/2slr83h4na


As always, thanks for checking it out! 

Here's the text of my sermon from Sunday, December 6th

The 2nd Sunday of Advent; December 06, 2009
Park Avenue Presbyterian Church; Des Moines, Iowa
Texts: Malachi 3: 1-4 *
Luke 1: 68-79 *
Philippians 1: 3-11
Luke 3: 1-6 *

“A Prophetic Proclamation”


--} The problem with “Advent” is that it was never intended to be an extended celebration of Christmas. Yet for most of us, the so-called “Christmas Season” is the month-long holiday stretch from Thanksgiving to Christmas—oddly enough, the same time the church traditionally celebrates “Advent.” “Advent” is not Christmas. And part of our problem is the reality that the Church asks us to celebrate “Advent,” while the world is inviting us to celebrate “Christmas.” Too often, we either find ourselves struggling with the dissonance between the two “celebrations,” or defending our Christmas frivolity from those liturgical types who seem to want to take Christmas away from us. Perhaps, there is a better way.

Advent doesn’t have to mean the assassination of Santa Claus!

For “Christmas” the so-called “reason for the season” is the birth of Jesus Christ. But for “Advent,” the “reason for the season” is not just “Jesus’ birth”—and I know that sounds strange. “Advent” is a season of watching and anticipating God’s promised coming; it’s an invitation for us to begin thinking about what it means for Jesus to have come into the world, but also, to be identifying the ways that Jesus is already here. It’s a pointing toward God’s penultimate event in Christ that begins with the incarnation; but it’s also an identification with the ways we see and know God being present. Like “Lent,” Advent can be a time of admission that the world isn’t right and that God in Jesus Christ is doing something about it.

So if we turn our attention a little bit toward this season in the midst of our holiday rush—what should Advent mean for us as Christ-followers? Today’s scripture readings send us in the direction of a backward glance—turning us away from Jesus for a moment and pointing us to God’s ongoing work. The prophet Malachi speaks of a promised “prepar-er;” and Luke begins his gospel—not with Jesus, but—with the story of John the Baptist. And we’re looking not just at the characters or the promises, but the proclamation they offer for the world—proclamation that matters because it invites us to consider the contrasts we see with the world around us.

John the Baptist is a good place to start, announcing himself as Isaiah’s “voice of one crying in the wilderness—prepare the way of the Lord.” Because sometimes in this season we get caught up in the fact that there is one “miracle birth” and it belongs to Jesus. But we think that, only because we haven’t read the Bible very carefully. Luke begins the story of Jesus by telling us about the birth of John the Baptist. In Chapter 1 Luke tells us the story of Zechariah and Elizabeth, about their heritage in the House of Aaron, and about how Elizabeth was barren. Zechariah, who was serving in the temple, is visited by an Angel who tells him:

“Do not be afraid, Zechariah, for your prayer has been heard. Your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you will name him John. You will have joy and gladness, and many will rejoice at his birth, for he will be great in the sight of the Lord. Even before his birth he will be filled with the Holy Spirit. He will turn many of the people of Israel to the Lord their God. With the spirit and power of Elijah he will go before him, to turn the hearts of parents to their children, and the disobedient to the wisdom of the righteous, to make ready a people prepared for the Lord.”

And then Zechariah is struck “mute” because he doubted the angel’s words—believing that he and Elizabeth were too old to bear children. Clearly another story about “life” out of “death” besides “Jesus”—birth out of barrenness—John’s story leads to OUR story, because people are wondering what will become of John because clearly the Lord’s hand was upon him.

This season is not just about anticipating the birth of Jesus, but of anticipating the fulfillment of God’s promises. And it isn’t just a backward look to the story from long ago, but an invitation to consider our own stories. Because the Bible teaches us that BEFORE Jesus comes, there is a time of preparation; before the SAVIOR can be received, the promises must be received. And that’s why BEFORE we unwrap the SAVIOR in our Christmas pageants, we ought to be unwrapping the promises of God for us in the here and now.

The “Christmas Season” wants to teach us that it’s all about Jesus’ birth—God’s gifts, our gifts, God’s love, our love. Christmas, in the familiar forms we often celebrate it in, can often clash with what we really do believe about God and about Jesus. Listen to one of my seminary classmates reflecting in his blog this past week:

“I have no desire to "Bah, humbug" our culture's celebration of Christmas. I love trees, presents, Santa, and the whole bit. But we in the Church should surely realize that good cheer, nostalgia, and a brief upswing in charity won't begin to deal with the brokenness of our world. Only God can do that. At Christmas, we celebrate the fact that in Christ, God has acted. And we draw comfort and hope from the promise that God will bring peace on earth in God's time. But for now, let us spend some of Advent contemplating the ways that we are a part of a broken world that needs saving.”

Notice the difference?

Christmas is the celebration that God has entered the world in Christ Jesus—in his birth. But God’s entering the world, isn’t about a birth-story—as wonderful as the one we tell always is. God’s entering the world is about peace and hope; about God’s promises of fixing the brokenness and saving the lost being made true—not just for a season, but forever. And the “beginning” of the Jesus story comes in the voice of the prophets who “prepare the way of the Lord.”

I believe that if we have a faithful ministry on Jesus’ behalf, we must become “prepar-ers” like John and Malachi represent. That WE must become people who work to prepare the world for the “something new and different” that Jesus and his life represent. And it’s hard, because it calls us to proclaim a different kind of message for the world. Not one of traditional “Christmas cheer,” but one that finds the realities of God in Christ.

Because the story of Jesus begins in the story of the prepar-ers. Those who are willing to go out on a limb and proclaim something different. And only when all is prepared—the paths straight, the valleys filled, the mountains made low, the crooked straight, the rough places smooth—shall everyone see the salvation of God. So while we celebrate Christ being “born,” the church proclaims a message beyond that one, too. We’re not just remembering a birth a long time ago in Bethlehem but that God entered the world purposefully—to save it. To save us from the brokenness of violence, hunger, homelessness, prejudice, sin—just to name a few. But we have to have courage enough to take up that mantle. We have to be willing to WORK toward that promised coming by straightening, filling, and smoothing. We don’t just have to take the world as it comes; we have the joy of proclaiming the realities of the kingdom of God that draw us beyond the difficulties we wrestle with.

In this season’s celebrations, it’s probably really easy to loose sight of the fact that:

• Our government just announced a huge increase in troops being sent to Afghanistan; they’re going “to make peace,” but we know they’ll have to use violence as a means to “make that peace.” In this season when the message is “peace,” how do we boldly offer Christ’s different way?

• Our government is supposedly “working” on “fixing” the brokenness that is “health-care in America”—so that more people can have basic medical care; but while the debate drags on, how many people will continue suffering because they don’t currently have proper medical care? How do we boldly offer God’s promises for a world where the measure of “care” is how well we tend to “the least of these?”

• And our city leaders are once again facing the challenges of meeting the needs of the homeless in our community; winter “camps” are visible again along the river. (Not only is it winter, when the trees leaves don’t hide this reality quite as well, but more and more people are joining in to help build shelters that some claim might be “unsafe.” But come on—how much more “unsafe” is a structure that might burn, versus the freezing cold that claims lives, too!) In this season of Christ’s birth, when we recognize more prominently that “foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the son of man has nowhere to lay his head;” how do we dream of different human possibilities and proclaim God’s promises of safe-keeping for all?

In the midst of this season, the promises of God say something to us as Christ-Followers do they not, about who we are and whose we are—because of Jesus—and the kinds of things we ought to stand for or even “say” out loud. And like shouting “Advent” every time we hear “Christmas carols” this time of year, we’re invited to go against the grain—if for no other reason we believe that God has decisively entered the world in Jesus Christ to say something different to us about our way of life.

We believe in Jesus Christ. We believe that Jesus has come into the world—to save it. We believe that the kingdom ways of God are different from the ways of the world. And as a the people of God, where is our gumption to prophetically proclaim this different voice. One that not only celebrates Christ’s birth, but attempts to “prepare the way;” not just for the Christmas story as a familiar “theme,” but to prepare our hearts, our homes, and announce for others around us, God’s better way.


--+ AMEN.

Link to the Audio File for my sermon from December 6th

Here's the link to the audio file for my sermon from Sunday, December 06th, 2009. 


http://www.box.net/shared/38bxq3i73p


This was the second Sunday in Advent. 

Thanks for checking it out. 

The text of my Sermon from Sunday, November 29th

The 1st Sunday of Advent; November 29, 2009
Park Avenue Presbyterian Church; Des Moines, Iowa
Texts: Jeremiah 33: 14-16 *
Psalm 25: 1-10
1 Thessalonians 3: 9-13
Luke 21: 25-36 *


“An ‘offshoot’… and getting to Nazareth”


--} Most of us by this time of year begin to believe “our story” begins somewhere around Bethlehem—and sometime in the days before Jesus is born. It does not. The part of the “Christmas Story” that we often miss entirely is the fact that Mary and Joseph are both from Nazareth—and few bother to ask, “how’d they get there?” “Why Nazareth of all places? Nazareth is no “nifty” place. John’s gospel reminds us of the early first-century view in the voice of one of the eventual disciples, “did anything good ever come out of Nazareth?”

But Nazareth is where the Gospel of Luke tells us that Mary and Joseph were living—before Joseph is called away to Bethlehem for the registration. It’s also according to Luke that Nazareth becomes the place where the Angel Gabriel appears to Mary. And if ever you get to Nazareth, you’ll discover it’s known for “two possibilities.” One part of the tradition holds that Gabriel appeared to Mary at the well in Nazareth—the place everyone would have gone to gather water. The other part of the tradition holds that Gabriel appeared to Mary at her house, a cave on what would have been the outskirts of town. Presumably, there is but one correct story and one location where the angel would have appeared; but short of some kind of angelic evidence, the possibility of two places lingers on; and both places have a church and faithful followers who believe that was the spot.

In truth, OUR story begins LONG before Luke’s.

As we are normally busy with our Christmas-time preparations, Advent is not often a time that we remember our Old Testament history. Few of us keep in focus the great kingdom and lineage of the Hebrew Bible’s greatest King—David, and his successor—Solomon. This is not the time that we recall that the greatness of the united kingdom of David and Solomon that they not only united and then expanded; it is not the time that we remember that their kingdom and their reign lasts only a few years. The unified and expanded kingdoms of David and Solomon do not have long lives among their successors; and eventually the united kingdom runs a shambles. And while there’s a long list of “Kings” for the Northern kingdom of Israel and the Southern Kingdom of Judah, tragedy eventually befalls both.

Of the original 12 Israelite tribes, 10 of them comprised the “Northern Kingdom,” while the remaining 2 comprised the Southern Kingdom of Judah. And six whole centuries—600 years BEFORE JESUS, the Assyrian Empire rolls into the northern kingdom of Israel and the 10 tribes of Israel are wrecked. Simply put, Israel is “cut off.” But this is why that history is important to OUR story.

Nazareth is a word that describes an “offshoot;” a description of what happens when a plant has been “cut off.” A good example is an olive tree—indigenous in Galilee. Olive trees are well known for their long lives; they live for hundreds, if not thousands of years. And while the tree will grow and grow until the trunk outgrows itself and has to be “cut off,” the roots continue to grow, and “offshoots” of the roots form new trunks and the tree lives on. The word, “Nazareth” implies this kind of phenomena—where what is “cut off” can have new or renewed life.

And so the tradition goes that when the 10 tribes of the Northern Kingdom of Israel are “cut off,” people in the Southern Kingdom wait until it might be safe, again, and send folks to what becomes known as “Nazareth” to re-establish a kind of faithful “offshoot”—so that the blessing of God’s people and the way of God’s life can be “re-established” in that place. So that Nazareth’s history in part, is a reminder about some of the less than glorious past history of God’s people; but it’s also about the bright possibilities of the future. And in light of OUR story, what a powerful story for us to remember!

The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will fulfill the promise I made to the house of Israel and the house of Judah. In those days I will cause a righteous Branch to spring up for David; and he shall execute justice and righteousness in the land. In those days Judah will be saved and Jerusalem will live in safety. And this is the name by which it will be called: “The Lord is our righteousness.”

The story of Nazareth is one of faithfulness; a reminder that God is never “cut off” from God’s people. Even in an unknown place, a nearly forgotten corner, the light of the promise of God’s prosperity still shines.

What IF—OUR Advent celebration had the character of “Nazareth”—a reminder about some of our less-glorious past, but with the bright possibilities of a new future? What IF we could be more intentional about “re-establishing” the practices that are faithful to God’s way of life that leads to God’s blessing for ourselves and those around us? What IF—we saw not just in a Christmas story with a familiar plot and well-known characters, but we believed in a God who promises new or renewed life prevails even when there has been all but death?

Luke’s Jesus offers us another possibility with the parable of the fig tree:

“Look at the fig tree and all the trees; as soon as they sprout leaves you can see for yourselves and know that summer is already near. So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that the kingdom of God is near."

Jesus is reminding us that with the signs and promises of the seasons, that we are not left to wait and “guess” about what things are occurring or that will be, but that we are given the present hope for what is being made real for us. Like the trees that sprout leaves in time for summer, we know the promises of God’s kingdom being among us: a righteous branch—where the Spirit of the Lord is upon him, because God has anointed him [and us] to bring good news to the poor, 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. And Jesus, who tells John’s disciples when they ask if Jesus is the one or if they are to wait for another,

“Go and tell John what you have seen and heard: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, the poor have good news brought to them.”

So OURS is not just the story of Christ being born on earth among us, but the story of the reminder of God’s signs and God’s presence with us; the promise that God is here with us, now, even as we believe God is coming again.

So here are some of the Advent questions I’m asking: Have we noticed the signs of God’s promised future? Have you seen the things taking place that indicate the Kingdom of God is near? What if Advent is our opportunity to “re-establish” the ways of living that indicate God’s promised reign among us? And if Advent weren’t just about the “signs” that we’re used to—like Christmas decorations, or the familiar run-up to the holiday; what would the other signs be?

What “IF” we weren’t just looking for a Christ-child, but for all the signs of God’s promised kingdom? What if we were looking and listening for God’s presence among us, always seeking to bring life out of death? What if we were watching and waiting, not just for one special birth, or the news of that birth, but for the in-breaking of God’s long-held intentions—the good news that Jesus comes to proclaim: that God is love and that we belong to God, always and forever.

Now that, would be some kind of Advent, wouldn’t it?

So where are the moments that we might re-establish God’s reign among us? Where are the places where we hear God speaking to us? Where are the opportunities where we pause to wait and hope for the Word of the Lord? Not just in the familiar rituals, but in the promise of each and every day—a true preparation for the time when Christ is alive and well among us; and an opportunity to share that news, not only with us, but with others. That would be a worthy Advent, wouldn’t it?


--+ AMEN.

Link to the audio file for my sermon from November 29th

Here's the link to the audio file for my sermon from Sunday, November 29th, 2009--the First Sunday of Advent. We had our "hanging of the greens" as the first part of our service today.


http://www.box.net/shared/7bzj7qgupb


As always, thanks for checking it out.

Happy Advent!

Christ the King Sunday; November 22, 2009
Park Avenue Presbyterian Church; Des Moines, Iowa
Texts: 2 Samuel 23: 1-7
Psalm 132: 1-12 (13-18)
Revelation 1: 4b-8
John 18: 33-37 *


“ The Art of ‘We Belong to God’ ”


--} Today is Christ the King Sunday—a liturgical observance that many people today know very little about. Unlike many of our religious traditions and celebrations, Christ the King Sunday isn’t an observance that goes way back—in fact, it’s not even 100 years old. A 20th Century creation, Christ the King Sunday has its roots in the papal encyclical of Pope Pius the 11th, who wrote that Jesus’ Kingship is not obtained by violence: “Christ,” he says, “has dominion over all creatures, a dominion not seized by violence nor usurped, but his by essence and by nature.” Instituted in 1925, the feast of Christ the King was intended to remind Christians that our allegiance is to our spiritual ruler in heaven as opposed to earthly supremacy, which at the time was being claimed by Benito Mussolini. Perhaps also wondering about the expanse of Christ’s dominion—like Pilate—Pope Pius thought it worthy to remind Christians that there is clearly a “Christ-way” and a “worldly-way” in living our lives.

So what a day—what an opportunity, a moment—to celebrate a Baptism! Baptism, of course, is God’s claim upon our lives. As our Presbyterian Brief Statement of Faith begins: “In life and in death, we belong to God.” Baptism is God’s promise of “our belonging.” But all too often, we treat “baptism” as if it were God belonging to us, not our “belonging” to God’s intentions. And sometimes, we treat baptism as our “safekeeping” in God with a ticket to heaven, not as the demonstration of God’s authority over our lives.

The writer of Revelation begins with familiar language of God’s authority and kingship:

Grace to you and peace from him who is and who was and who is to come, from Jesus Christ, the faithful witness, the firstborn of the dead, and the ruler of the kings of the earth.

And for Presbyterians, the language of Jesus’ authority is also captured in the first sentences of our constitution:

“All power in heaven and earth is given to Jesus Christ by Almighty God, who raised Christ from the dead and set him above all rule and authority, all power and dominion, and every name that is named. …God has put all things under the Lordship of Jesus Christ.”

So for members of the Christian church who entrust our lives to Christ, what should his authority over us and his Kingship look like? What if Pope Pious is right, and that we often just give “lip service” to our tradition and Christ’s Kingdom and its “dominion” and “authority” over our lives?

As uncomfortable as it may seem to us, Pope Pious was suggesting that things like nationalism or national allegiances are things to guard AGAINST—for Christians, at least. And perhaps we don’t feel as much “pressured” because of our national identity, but “American culture” often pits us AGAINST the authority of God in Christ. We harbor our own “nationalistic impulses,” believing we can solve all the world’s problems if we could just get people to cooperate (that’s ‘code’ for other people to “do what we want them to”). Our nation stations troops all over the world in the name of “freedom.” And while we might even claim faith in and a personal relationship with Jesus Christ, notice how we often we can see our nationalistic pride in building our own kind of “dominion” in the name of all the things we believe are “right” and the freedoms we believe we’re entitled to—above others.

And if you think I’m “cracked,” just watch what happens as we celebrate the national holiday this week. We call it, “thanksgiving,” but how easily our “gratitude” is shafted by “gluttony”—first at the meal, but then in the great race of personal possessing and materialistic impulses on “the day after” when the Christmas SALES begin! Then—in the mad rush—quietly ask yourselves: in all of “this” that is our culture, “where is the authority of God in Jesus Christ?” And where is Christ’s Kingdom made resident in our lives? And you would think that we wouldn’t need friendly reminders. But Pope Pious, perhaps wondering about the expanse of Christ’s Kingdom, believed we might.

So, in what is quite the contrast from our worldly celebrations this week, John’s gospel offers us a decidedly different view of Christ’s Way and the Worldly Way. Notice Jesus—choosing a very different path than the one of “domination” and “violence.” Notice Jesus—choosing a very different way of being than one that puts others “at risk.” Notice Jesus—as Pope Benedict has remarked in our own century, exhibiting a “kingship” that “is not based on ‘human power’ but on loving and serving others,” even in death.

Two weeks ago, I was in Jerusalem, and one of the places we visited was the Church of St. Peter in Gallicantu on Mt. Zion. This is the site of what was believed to be Caiaphas’ headquarters where Jesus was taken after his arrest in Gethsemane, where he was held BEFORE his appearance with Pilate; where Peter denies Jesus three times. We saw the steps—dated to the time of Jesus—where the soldiers would have escorted Jesus to his meeting with Caiaphas and his cohort that night, and by which they would have taken Jesus on to Pilate the next morning. And we were taken into the basement to see the “sacred pit” where it was believed Jesus would have been “held” overnight awaiting being taken to Pilate on the other end of the city.

The “sacred pit” was a bottle-neck holding cell, where the accused would have been lowered some 50 or 60 feet down into a small cavern in solid rock—a kind of “maximum security” holding cell. Next to the “pit” was a room where a guard could observe the prisoner through a small opening in the rock; and next to the observation room was another cavern used for torturing prisoners. Hewn into the rock were hand-holds and foot-holds where prisoners could be fastened so as to be whipped and beaten, as well as small troughs where vinegar and other painful agents might be applied to open wounds.

Now the Bible doesn’t tell us that Jesus endured torture at Caiaphas’ headquarters; still, I wondered if while Jesus were being held there, others were being mistreated—within earshot of Jesus? And far more than his own suffering and death, I believe that the tortured screams of others would have wounded Jesus even more deeply.

By contrast, if you and I believed in following a “Christ-way”: the suffering we human beings inflict on one another through violence and war for personal or national gain; the suffering we human beings inflict on one another because we only care about ourselves and our national interests built on greed; the suffering we human beings inflict by hoarding and possessing, by our “might equals right” mentality—could never be a demonstration of the way of Jesus.

On Christ the King Sunday, Jesus’ suffering and death are lifted up before us—in contrast to the freedoms and celebrations we so often relish. Jesus’ way is to be lifted up for us because we are prone to handing ourselves over to our own desires, rather than the desires of God in Christ. So one of my colleagues challenged me this week to think about Dietrich Bonheoffer who believed that we are called to participate with God in the sufferings of the world. We believe, don’t we, that God participates in the world through the suffering and death of Jesus. This is not to say that we all have to suffer rather than celebrating this week. But this is to say we ought to be asking ourselves the questions: “where is the authority of God in Jesus Christ?” And where is Christ’s Kingdom being made resident in our lives? What should Christ’s authority and Kingship look like for those of us who entrust our lives to Christ?—a kingship not based on human power!

Baptism, for Christians, is to entrust our lives to God—who lifts up the way of Christ. Kingship not based on human power and violent domination, but on loving and serving others. For us to claim Christ is to claim his way of living and dying; and “belonging to God,” is more than just God’s promise of our salvation. Baptism means for us to give ourselves over to God’s authority, to live our lives in the ways Jesus lived his. So remember YOUR baptism—and it’s claim that Christ’s Kingdom is to be lived out in our way of life—above all else.


--+ AMEN.

Here's the link to the audio file for my sermon from November 22nd, 2009

Here's the link to the audio file for my sermon from Sunday, November 22nd, 2009. This Sunday was Christ the King (or the Reign of Christ Sunday) and we also celebrated the baptism of my daughter, Beulah.



http://www.box.net/shared/clu0mixk1p


This was the last Sunday in the liturgical year. Next Sunday is Advent. Do you have your "Advent Shopping" done?

As always, thanks for checking this out.

The Text of my sermon from Sunday, November 15th

The 33rd Sunday in Ordinary Time; November 15, 2009
Park Avenue Presbyterian Church; Des Moines, Iowa
Texts: 1 Samuel 1: 4-20
1 Samuel 2: 1-10
Hebrews
Mark 13: 1-8 *


“Hope that Is Seen is Not Hope”

--} Every stewardship season begins similarly; we almost always ask our members to contribute to supporting the planned budget for next year. And for a long time, our budget has always outpaced our giving. And for a long time, we’ve always managed to make up the difference. And if I asked you this morning to raise your hands if you thought we’d make the budget this year, how many of you would? Go ahead, raise your hands if you think our pledges will meet our planned expenses?

My guess is that if we told the honest truth, none of us believes we’re going to make it this year. We have too few members. We have too few members and friends financially supporting us. “It’s like getting blood from a turnip—no matter how hard you squeeze”—right?

One of the things that is unmistakable about Jerusalem is the collection of large buildings and huge stones. The walls of Jerusalem had been built and rebuilt any number of times by the first century in Jesus’ time. Huge, big building blocks make up everything—the Temple, the Roman palaces, homes, the city walls, the huge military fortifications. And when Jesus says, “not one stone will be left here one upon another,” he’s really saying something that defies our human imagination.

One of the “facts” about first-century Jerusalem is that Herod the Great—greatly—expanded the Temple plaza to accommodate more Jewish worshipers—to keep the occupied folks happy. Security for Rome demanded some accommodation, and so they managed the natives by allowing them to practice their own religion as much as possible. So Herod ordered huge paving stones to be laid in expanding the plaza around the Temple, as well as huge stones to build a palace to house the Roman authority near there. Together they were both magnificent and awesome.

And when Jesus says, “not one stone will be left here one upon another,” he’s really saying something that looks and sounds—not threatening, but—impossible. That those “stones” would somehow not be left standing, simply defies the imagination of anyone who sees them first-hand. In fact, many of those “stones” continue to stand right where they were placed! The Temple, for example, still has one wall left standing to this day!

But when Jesus wasn’t to become the heroic figure to release the occupied people of Israel from the will of their Roman oppressors, we can only imagine the hopeless feeling those people encountered. How could they believe that their “champion” could possibly make a difference if he wasn’t going to be the one to deliver them from the Roman oppressors? And because Jesus’ words are eventually interpreted as a “threat” against the Temple and against Rome that will get Jesus into legal trouble, we are often tempted to believe that Jesus’ words in today’s gospel reading suggest destruction. What a surprise that they don’t quite come to be as we imagine!

Today, our congregation lives “outside” realm of the Romans; yet, we have our own “oppressors.” And one of them, is our money. We constantly have to ride the knife-edge, hoping we’ll have enough. The economy is shaky. Costs seem to always go up—and rarely come back down; and amidst all the constant warnings on television and in the newspaper, it must always seem hopeless to us that we can’t even make our budget on a yearly basis—without help. But “hope that is seen is not hope.”

“Hope”—is not “optimism.” “Optimism” is what is gained from “seeing evidence” that things might go well. For example, we “hope” that we might “make the budget” because people might increase their giving a certain percentage. Or we “hope” if we see the pledge trending upwards. But evidence in hand that things “might be OK,” IS NOT “HOPE.” “Hope” only comes in our darkest hours of despair—and that’s a hard lesson for us to bear, especially when it comes to our money. “Hope” means learning to live “at risk.” It means “trusting God” to come through—especially when we know we can’t make it.

And don’t think for a minute that all of us aren’t living “at risk.” I think about that every time we don’t know where the money is coming from. “Hope” says we have to trust in the darkness, knowing that God is always good. “Hope” means having no other choices.

Stewardship Dedication Sunday is as good a time as any to talk about that “hope” that we have in God—hope that is not “seen.”

When I was growing up, my parents always believed that “tithing” was one of the most important things for Christ-followers. They believed then and now that a “biblical tithe” was 10%. And while for many years my weekly “offering” at church consisted of the money they left each Sunday morning on the corner of our piano to be taken and put in the offering plate, eventually it became little reminders that we needed to give 10% of what we received to God.

My parents did this, believing in part that if you give to God, God will always take care of you. It’s not an obligation; or any assurance that things will go better. Giving is simply the reminder that God provides. Hope that is “seen” is not hope.

So my practice, now engrained not by reminders but by choice and lifestyle, is to know that I give to God, FIRST. I, too, believe in a biblical tithe; and it’s the first item in my own personal budget. So I add together my housing allowance and cash salary—the amount of my monthly check that Peggy writes on behalf of the Church—take 10%, divide by twelve, and that’s my monthly giving. And because in my household we have two church families, we take that monthly amount and share it equally between our church and Desiree’s—$192, apiece.

We formulate our budget with our church commitments first, and then our expenses. And when we “run short” or wonder if we can “afford something,” it’s always after we’ve given our pledge. And so, there are things we don’t have because we can’t afford them. Cable television. More than one cell phone. A brand new cars. Season tickets to the Symphony. We make other choices, knowing that our commitment to God is first, and taken care of. And life is still good, and God has certainly blessed us—and not because of how much we give.

There have been times that we have been “tempted” to lower our pledge, because we could then afford other things. But that never seems fair. We’ve been able to keep our pledge and I am more resolved to do so. And here’s why. I don’t believe we “owe God” anything. God doesn’t need our money. In some ways, the Church doesn’t need our money. But I give to God first, because I want to participate in the hope that is God. Not because I believe whatever gift we make will come back to us and more besides, that if we “bless God” in our “giving” God will “bless us” in our income or our “things.” I believe that our commitment to God is tangible, not for the sake of God but for our own sake. We give, because we know it makes a difference, it holds us together in community, it is the work of God in this place and in places all over the world. Hope that is “seen” is not hope.

Now I know that our “hope” at Park Avenue is that we’ll have enough pledges “to make the budget.” Our “hope” maybe is that if some people give a little more, we might be able to give a little less. [That’s not really fair, is it?] We know that this year, perhaps more than in previous years, making the budget is going to be the hardest its ever been. Fewer people. Expenses are higher. We haven’t provided “increases” for our staff in at least 3 years, and in that time, some of them have taken “decreases”! Hope that is “seen” is not hope. And if you read your stewardship letter, you know that our Stewardship Team is asking for an increase in giving of 5%; and should that come to fruition, we know we still cannot meet the budget. “Hope that is seen is not hope.”

So here’s what we’re “hoping for.” Like the huge ‘stones’ that Jesus’ disciples saw neatly piled one on top of the other in the grand first-century capital that was Jerusalem, that we, too, as a congregation are built with the substantial giving that is generous and significant—like big stones, stacked one on top of the other. That we’re all considering some kind of percentage giving and challenging ourselves to consider giving more—if or when we can. We trust that together, we’re giving as much as 10% of our income, and making hard choices together. We’re believing—not that we will be rewarded by God, but that we will be blessed by God; that we will be participants with God in the world, and be witnesses to the love and justice of Jesus Christ. This is our hope in the darkness, isn’t it? Believing where we cannot see it will be possible. And choosing not to fret or complain about it, but to give what we can give and give it generously.

Jesus declares that our life together is never easy. Whether we’re looking to avoid persecutions or other forms of trouble, Jesus says, “beware.” “For they will hand you over to councils; and you will be beaten in synagogues; you will stand before governors and kings; and you will be hated by all because of my name.” Hope that is seen is not hope.

“Giving” is the same way. We “give,” not because of what we are promised if we do, but simply because we believe where we have not seen that God is good. We give in the “hope” of God’s kingdom being made alive in each of us—whether we make the budget or not.

--+ AMEN.

Link to the audio file for my sermon from November 15th

Here's the link to my sermon from Sunday, November 15th, 2009. This was Stewardship Dedication Sunday, and my first Sunday back in the pulpit following a 2-week pilgrimage to the Holy Land.



http://www.box.net/shared/9klsjc4ty2


Thanks for checking it out. It's good to be back in the saddle again.

... a word from Jerusalem

We played at Ceasarea Maritima, near the Roman aquaduct that carried water 9 miles from the foot of Mt. Carmel

We stood on top of Mt. Arbel, overlooking the Galilean cost where Jesus did most of his ministry.

We washed in the springs near Primacy of Peter, which is where first Century peoples would have stopped to refresh themselves, too.

We got our pictures taken at Mt. of Beatitudes, where Jesus expounded his famous Sermon on the Mount--except he was down near the sea.

We walked along the trail Jesus and his friends may have traveled many times.

And we came to Jerusalem, the center of the world, to pilgrimage toward God.

As we continue our journey in the Holy Land, I am continually struck by the fact that human beings often treat God as our plaything rather than taking seriously the words and promises God has gifted us with. We find it necessary to direct our prayers to God, that God might fix our problems, rather than tuning our hearts and minds toward the man from Galilee who would say to us, "blessed are the peacemakers," and "God does not kill."

The Church of the Holy Sepulcre is controlled by no less than 6 denominational groups of Christians, each vying for their own space in what might otherwise be a sacred space. It should be enough that Jews, Muslims and Christians can't get along with one another, we dont need a house divided among the Christians alone.

The wounds of this region of the world run deep, perhaps like the wounds my Jesus endured while he was here. Not that my story would become his story, but that my story should carry his in such a way that all the world can see it. It's not that I have walked where Jesus walked; it's can I walk like Jesus walked--not in terms of location, but in the orientation of my heart.

I come away from this experience renewed in my determination to try. No one is perfect but God. I don't aim to be perfect; I do aim to be faithful to the one who has sent me on his behalf.

Shalom,

David Stipp-Bethune

writing from Jerusalem

The Preacher's on Pilgrimage

The Preacher is on pilgrimage for the next two weeks. I won't be preching and there won't be updates until November 15th. I'm traveling with a group of pastors for two weeks in the Holy Land.

The Text of my sermon from Sunday, October 25th

The 30th Sunday in Ordinary Time; October 25, 2009
Park Avenue Presbyterian Church; Des Moines, Iowa
Texts: Job 42: 1-6, 10-17
Psalm
Hebrews
Mark 10: 46-52 *


“Jesus, May I”

--} I can’t come to today’s gospel reading without “seeing”—that as I am busy preparing for my pilgrimage to the Holy Land (including time to be spent in Jerusalem), that today’s lesson has Jesus smack dab in the middle of his pilgrimage to Jerusalem, too. Yet aside from this obvious entangled excitement about my own journey, I can’t help but believe that Mark is inviting his readers to each consider our own FAITH journeys in light of what happens to the blind man, Bartimaeus.

Today’s verses are the “final verses” before Jesus “pilgrimages” to Jerusalem for the last time. In a way, this is “the end” of the road—were it not for the story of his entry into Jerusalem and the long walk of suffering through the streets to Golgotha. Once again, Mark’s disciples seem to have missed Jesus’ point; we’ve previously found them squabbling over “who is the greatest,” and just now James and John have been seen arm-wrestling for the place or position of privilege in the Kingdom. But to put it in perspective, if you’re on your way to be crucified, does it really matter who’s on the right or the left?

There are three things that are remarkably notable for me about Mark’s story. The first noteworthy markings are the responses Bartimaeus makes in hearing that it was “Jesus of Nazareth” passing by, and then to Jesus “calling.” When he hears it’s Jesus, Bartimaeus begins shouting in messianic language, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” It’s not surprising that this might be what Bartimaeus believes, but that he shares it quite openly. This isn’t just “faith” language, it’s “political” language; and the Scribes and Pharisees who are out to get Jesus, would be out to get this poor fellow now, too. Perhaps, this is an unwise public gesture, since even if Jesus is the “Son of David” who can somehow overcome the charges or consequences of blasphemy, the odds are that such an admission publically gets both Jesus and Bartimaeus in hot water for it—if not killed.

But then, when Jesus calls Bartimaeus to come to him, Bartimaeus responds by “throwing off his cloak, springing up, and going straight to Jesus.” For all intents and purposes, this man’s “cloak” was his life; it would have identified him as the blind beggar on the side of the road, “in need.” It was how he would have “made a living,” hoping for alms from the passers-by on their way to celebrate Passover festivities in Jerusalem. His gesture of “throwing off his OLD life,” seems significant—as if he recognized already that he was being “called” to new living and that his old clothes were no longer going to be useable or necessary. It’s as if Jesus’ “call” offers a kind of “extreme makeover”!

The second noteworthy marking is that Bartimaeus abandons his old life, and takes up the “way” with Jesus. Having the chance to ask Jesus to “restore his sight,” Bartimaeus hears Jesus’ response: “go, your faith has made you [whole again.]” And one might imagine Bartimaeus going back home to tell his family and friends, or going to Temple to see the priests and receive the testimony that he can be restored to community. Jesus says, “go,” and Bartimaeus seemingly doesn’t—he follows. Having regained his sight, he chooses to follow Jesus on the “way.” The Greek word is oJdov"—meaning oddly enough, “a journey.” It refers more directly to a “way” as in a “highway” or a “traveled road,” or a “traveler’s way” or a “way of traveling.” And in Mark’s gospel, it’s often suggested that the “way” is the way of life Jesus teaches us in the gospel encounters with him, “the way” that is first adopted in the lifestyle of the early Church’s believers. For example, many early Christian communities were known as people of “the way”—a term that is being reclaimed in our own day and age. But I’m thinking too, that another way for understanding it isn’t the way we traditionally think of it, as in Bartimaeus following Jesus to Jerusalem “along the way” or even Bartimaeus “following Jesus” as the “way.” I’m quite certain these days that Bartimaeus’ epiphany is that Jesus is offering to him the life of the kingdom of God—“the way.” So Bartimaeus leaps up, tosses aside the cloak of his former self, and begins a new journey as part and parcel of God’s kingdom on earth.

The third noteworthy marking is that like there’s a “calling” or “invitation” for Bartimaeus to take up a new kind of living, I believe Mark’s intention is similar for first-century believers. In the face of well-known persecution, violence against believers, and destruction, the Christian community to whom Mark is writing would surely be encouraged to be brave like Bartimaeus; to boldly “cast off” their former lives and selves in the possibility or opportunity of living God’s Kingdom life. And if there’s a calling or inviting of Bartimaeus that’s meant to be an invitation for first-century believers in a tough spot at a tough time in their lives and the life of the world… what do you suppose the chances are that we should see Bartimaeus not only as a model for those folks in the early church, but for our own selves in our own church today?

So here’s where I’ve come to believe the rubber hits the road for us. Bartimaeus KNOWS—or “SEES”—that when Jesus passes by that the “way” or the Kingdom of God has come near. Bartimaeus doesn’t spend a lot of time contemplating it; he simply RESPONDS TO IT. And it’s not just a welcoming of Jesus, or an asking of Jesus to heal him; Bartimaeus considers the messianic visit an open invitation to join the “way of God in the world,” and in throwing off his cloak we “SEE” him embracing this new journey wholeheartedly—even if it leads to Jerusalem and even if the “risk” is that those who believe and act and follow Jesus and his ministry get crucified (or worse!).

We may not live in a time where we face persecutions and imminent death because we believe in Jesus, or even because we act like Jesus. But we do recognize that Jesus doesn’t represent total popularity—loving one’s neighbor as oneself comes at a cost, for example. The invitation of Jesus to the Kingdom life, though, is to be brave in spite of those risks; to believe in spite of those who don’t; to seek to live in the way of Jesus not just for the sake of ourselves, but for the sake of so many others.

I believe Mark is inviting us to consider “the way of Jesus” as the “way of the Kingdom of God in the world;” and that like Blind Bartimaeus, we’re invited to jump up, throw off the rags of our old life, and bravely live into a new “way” of God’s being in the world. If you recall, when Mark tells us about Jesus calling the first disciples, the promise is that Jesus will make them to be “fishers.” It’s an act that redefines their living and invites them completely into a new orientation to live—even as some of them were already fishermen.

“The way” of Jesus is like a journey. We’re invited to be prepared for it when it arrives. We’re invited to “put on new clothes” in anticipation. We’re invited to be literally moved to a new way of relating to one another, our families and friends. We’re invited to know that the risks are that Jesus is “journeying” to Jerusalem to be crucified, to die and be buried, and to be RAISED to new life. There is no resurrection with out a little death. I’m wondering if Bartimaeus’ bold outburst doesn’t recognize too that he is dying to his old way of life and living into a new way of life. A resurrection that all of us can share, too—if we will only take a journey….

--+ AMEN.

Link to the audio file for my sermon from October 25th

Here's the link to the audio file for my sermon from Sunday, October 25th, 2009.

http://www.box.net/shared/lhhn0lhgzj


This is a good time to say that for the next couple of Sunday's I'm away on pilgrimage in the Holy Land. So, there will not be regular sermon updates, audio or otherwise.

As always, thanks for checking this out!

Preacher to be back... for a week

Dear Friends,

Thanks for checking in. I've been away on paternity leave the last two weeks. I'll be preaching again this Sunday--before I go on pilgrimage for two weeks following.

David Stipp-Bethune

Text of my sermon from Sunday, October 4th

The 27th Sunday in Ordinary Time; October 04, 2009
Park Avenue Presbyterian Church; Des Moines, Iowa
Texts: Job 1: 1; 2: 1-10
Psalm 26
Hebrews 1: 1-4; 2: 5-12
Mark 10: 1-16 *


“Sclero-cardia”

--} A lot of lectionary preachers woke up this week wondering how in the world it could be World Communion Sunday—one of the great pinnacles of Christian unity—and the assigned gospel lesson being Jesus’ declaration about divorce—one of the great human acknowledgements of the need for divisiveness. Most of you, I imagine, didn’t wake up this morning yearning for a sermon on divorce. And while there’s some irony in what we celebrate today compared to the assigned gospel reading, the real irony I find in the gospel story itself.

It seems ironic to me, that in answering the Pharisees, Jesus makes a claim that God’s intended “unity” should stand over and against human divisions. Yet at the same time, those who would doggedly pursue Jesus’ words—that divorce is adulterous, or wrong—would with that teaching, create lines of division among human beings, suggesting that “some are better than others.”

The good news for us today, however, is that Jesus isn’t focused so much on divorce; instead, he suggests that the plight of human beings is found in a common condition for all of them known as “Sclero-cardia”—hardness of heart. “Sclera”—as in hard, or hardening; “cardia” referring to the heart. If you’ve ever heard the medical term, “arterio-sclerosis”—that’s the hardening of the arteries. “Sclero-cardia” refers to hard-heartedness. And when the Pharisees pose their “tricky” question to “test” Jesus, he tells them—not so much to answer their question as to point out their weakness—that their problem is an old human nemesis, “Sclero-cardia”.

“Sclero-cardia” is maybe best thought of as a kind of “resistance.” A hardening or hardened “heart” can no longer function well to pump blood through the body, and as such, this is a condition that can be fatal. Some people believe that “sin” is a sign of one’s “resistance” to God’s will and God’s ways—a turning against God. Like the Pharisees, they use the law to determine who’s faithful and who isn’t. Yet such a reaction is “divisive.” It ends not in determining who has done well or not, but in people being divided, and separated—like the sheep from the goats! Believing some are better than others, the Pharisees would have Jesus believe the law is God’s vision for the world. Jesus, however, would show followers that the law—however well intended—seems to supersede God’s vision for the world where human beings ought to live far more connected, united, and remain “un-divided.” So that to my mind, “Sclero-cardia” has to do with the human condition of dividing ourselves; believing that some of us are better than others of us. It’s a way of keeping score, of trying to assure ourselves that we’re in the “right” that we’re the “deserving,” that we’re more “loved.”

So, even on World Communion Sunday, “Sclero-cardia” fences the table; keeps some people out. “Sclero-cardia” breeds division—like divorce. “Sclero-cardia” keeps us from being united to one another and united to God. The irony being that if we wish to fight “Sclero-cardia”, we have to find another way of understanding the story than what Jesus seems to say on the surface.

For each of the last three Sundays, the gospel reading from Mark has offered stories that begin with Jesus teaching, then concluding with a kind of object lesson with a child or children. As with the last two weeks, today we again see the same kind of formula at work. When the disciples obviously aren’t getting what Jesus is about, Jesus has to finally tell them more directly—correcting their misperceptions by welcoming children, by taking children in his arms and blessing them. While it makes for a nice scene, seemingly reflecting Jesus’ love of children, the true intention points at a far more difficult lesson for adults. It isn’t just that Jesus welcomes and blesses these children, it’s that he does it—intentionally—in the context of human brokenness—striving, it would seem to drive us toward unity, not division.

What we should notice is that the children are welcomed, received, and blessed by Jesus—with no questions asked or judgments rendered. This isn’t a demonstration of the child’s “faith” is it? At best, I think, it could be a demonstration of the parents’ faith; but if so, what does it mean? Would “blessing the children” mean that the children are kept safe from difficulty or sin all their days? Not likely. If anything, doesn’t Jesus’ “blessing” come not as a promise of what will happen, but as a reminder of to whom the children ultimately belong?

In that sense, Jesus’ “blessing” is like “baptism.” Baptism is not just an event with water dribbled onto a person’s head; we believe it’s the mark or “claim” of God upon that person’s life. For me it’s kind of like that “baggage tag” that you put on your luggage, so the airline knows where to send it. Baptism is the “mark” and “reminder” that “we belong to God.” And that no matter what happens in life, that always stays with us.

At one time, people equated “baptism” with the “forgiveness of sins;” so “baptism” only occurred at the “end of life” so someone could die and jump straight up to heaven—not having sinned again. But because it’s hard to tell when the “end of life” is, and because “baptism” was thought of as a ONE TIME forgiveness of sins, some people were baptized, but sinned again, rendering the baptism useless to them. Today, we understand far better. Baptism is God’s claim upon our life, a mark and reminder of whose we are—not just that we’ve had our sins forgiven.

“Sclero-cardia” is a human condition. Like original sin, it affects all of us. No one is immune; none of us are better than others. And what Jesus says to the Pharisees is that when Moses wrote the law about divorce, Moses was somehow accommodating our “human condition”—“Because of your hardness of heart,” Jesus tells them, “Moses wrote this commandment”—even though it went against God’s vision for the world described at creation when human beings were created male and female. Jesus tells the Pharisees, that the law about “divorce” WAS NOT divinely inspired; instead, it was created because the Creator loves the creature in spite of the creature’s mistakes. Jesus would remind the Pharisees, that God’s relationship with the world isn’t all about judge and arbiter and how some people break the commandments; God’s relationship with the world is a love story—where hearts are broken and mended in God’s goodness.

In Luke’s gospel, there isn’t this story where Jesus seemingly lectures to us about divorce. But Luke offers another story that I think should carry the same weight—the familiar story of the Prodigal. We all know the story about a man with two sons, and the younger asks for half of his father’s estate, and when the father grants it, he takes the money and squanders it. Then, having come to himself (and because his luggage tag reminds him about “whose” he is), the son returns home to a hero’s welcome—even before he can get out the words, “I’m sorry.” The father refuses to hear about what he did or how low he’d become, or all of his various conflicts with the law. The father refuses to call him an adulterer, a thief, a fornicator, a liar—all the things we know he was. Instead, the father treats him as a lost son who had been found! The luggage tag of grace!

Here’s the parent who perhaps had taken the child to Jesus and had him blessed—which was no guarantee against sin and wrong-doing, but was a reminder about to whom the child belonged. Because the antidote for “Sclero-cardia” isn’t in identifying wrongdoing and handing down justice; the antidote for “Sclero-cardia” comes in the reminder that we belong to God—and so does everyone else.

The irony of this passage is that I believe Jesus would rather have us see that “divorce” isn’t the enemy. That God’s love for human beings supersedes divorce—and whatever else we might try and use to put in God’s way. That God has already “tagged” us with the grace of being able to return, to find God, to come to table together, and be united with God and for God—not as an antidote to future sin or only as a forgiveness for past sins, but as the promise that God’s love for us supersedes every human weaknesses.

In other words, the refrain goes something like this. Part of what it means to be a human being is that we are already infected with original sin; that we already have, “Sclero-cardia”. The good news, is that God loves us anyway. If we read between the lines just little bit:

Jesus said to them, “Because of your hardness of heart, from the beginning of creation, ‘God made them male and female.’ ‘For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.’ So they are no longer two, but one flesh. Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate.”

God has joined human beings to God’s own self in the gift of Jesus Christ. This is the gift of unity we celebrate at the table together. Bread is body; blood is cup. Taken inwardly, they become a part of us—by which ministry is passed to us as a blessing—no questions asked, no faith demanded—as if we were children in the arms of almighty God, already tagged by grace and promised that the one to whom we belong will always claim us—no matter who we are, or what we’ve done. Even, if there’s such a thing as divorce.

So come. Human beings are human beings—God loves us anyway. Let’s eat. Come to the Lord’s table. Let’s eat.



--+ AMEN.

Link to the audio file for my sermon from October 4th

There is no audio link this week. The preacher's wife is giving birth tomorrow, so I'm going to say that's the reason why the preacher must have forgotten to press "record." This stinks, because the sermon seemed to go really well, too!


This is a good place to remind you that the preacher's taking the next two weeks off as paternity leave, including Sundays. So there won't be sermon links for at least a couple of weeks.



Thanks for checking in.

The Text of my sermon from Sunday, September 27th, 2009

The 26th Sunday in Ordinary Time; September 27, 2009
Park Avenue Presbyterian Church; Des Moines, Iowa
Texts: Esther 7: 1-6, 9-10, 9:20-22
Psalm 124
James 5: 13-20
Mark 9: 38-50 *


“With a child in your arms…”


--} I’ve been thinking a lot about “the children” these past few weeks. My time of “preparation” as a father—for the third time—is coming to an end. As Desiree’ is quick to remind me, even the “un-comfortableness” of pregnancy at its worst, is better than facing some of the realities of the child being born—and the needs becoming more immediate and external that WE must take care of. Our “preparation” journey as parents, this time, ends in a week.

So last Sunday, my imagining Jesus putting a child (to my mind, even an infant) amongst the disciples, came with some very real and vivid images. Holding that child for the first time in your arms… knowing, of course, that you hold all of that child’s precious life in your hands, is an awesome human experience.

So I began this week with a question for the text of Mark’s gospel lesson. John’s exhortation that the disciples had seen someone casting out demons in Jesus’ name, and that they had tried to stop him, seemed to me as an “interruption” in the flow of Mark’s story. So often, we consider that a “new paragraph” indicates a new or different setting—that the parcels of the story don’t flow together as one whole unit. But my question was, when Jesus begins to explain in verse 42, “If any of you put a stumbling block before one of these little ones who believe in me,” is Jesus still talking about that child he took up in his arms and put among them? Is Jesus pointing to that child as our object lesson? Was Jesus still cuddling the “little one,” pronouncing, “it would be better for you if a great millstone were hung around your neck and you were thrown into the sea—for the sake of the child! This morning, I’m still not certain I know that answer. But Mark’s gospel offers me the opportunity to think about it, and here’s what I think is important for us to remember:

Today’s passage begins with what has to be a difficult admission for the disciples. Jesus is telling them that the Christ-following “club” is not exclusive. Though these where the individuals who seemed to be especially chosen for a Jesus-kind-of-life, they are clearly not the only ones who get to live it. Suddenly, even those who “do not believe IN Jesus” were able to “do” deeds of power in his name. [Shocking for believers who fancy themselves as being ‘special in the eyes of God’—“special” over and above other human beings!] Sometimes, that seems like a frightening or at least a threatening reality; so most of the time, I think John’s reaction to “stop it” seems natural to us. We think Jesus’ power ought to be reserved for those especially chosen, thus preserving the “chain of apostolic power” and insuring against abusive use, right? We don’t like the reality of Jesus giving his power away to people who won’t follow our rules; we prefer a clearer separation between believers and non-believers—as if it helps to remind us there are dire consequences. So that “believing” can indicate how we EARN our way to heaven; and people who don’t “believe” just don’t “get it” and can’t “get in.”

But it’s ironic, isn’t it, that the people who DON’T believe, are the people immediately invested with Jesus’ power; and the disciples not only can’t replicate Jesus power very consistently at this point, but also try to make sure that others can’t either. And as John speaks up for the other disciples, it’s interesting to watch as he seem to try and keep the use of Jesus’ power “limited”—acting as if he’s protecting his own turf, his own ministry, or his own self. How typical for human beings! But Jesus responds as if he had that child in his hands—firstly, declaring that the one doing the deeds of power “will not lose his reward”—someone who doesn’t even believe! And then, secondarily, Jesus would seemingly teach disciples, [pointing to the child in his arms…] “If any of you put a stumbling block before one of these little ones who believe in me, it would be better for you if a great millstone were hung around your neck and you were thrown into the sea.” Jesus has something to protect—it’s just not what we think it is.

While John clearly seems to have eyes for his own self interest, his own ministry, perhaps; Jesus has eyes for what matters most—protecting the “littlest one” among them. The contrast is staggering, isn’t it? We worry about OURSELVES, and Jesus worries about the one who is “the least of these.”

Those of us who’ve ever held a child or an infant in our arms know how unnerving it is to suddenly have “the whole person”—in our hands. The “innocent one” who knows nothing of having to protect herself, who is completely and utterly reliant on “us” to protect him and provide for her needs. For me, I “see” Jesus, infant in hand, pulling away from the disciples or pushing them back, “protecting” the one cradled in his arms, holding on to him for dear life!

And as strange as it sounds, it appears Jesus would put us on notice. Don’t bother protecting yourselves; your job is protecting “the weakest ones.” Your task is keeping save the weakest ones; and your only hope, is your ability to accommodate yourselves to sticking up for the one who can’t stick up for herself. Which is why I say that “sticking up only for ourselves” in this great health-care wrestling match is wrong. Or looking out just for our personal interests in life, causing others to suffer, is wrong. Trying to protect what we have earned, or holding on to what we believe is “ours” by right or inheritance, or keeping things always the same for our sake, demanding that what’s good enough for us is good enough for others, too—is wrong. Jesus, with a child in his arms, again offers us an object lesson, pointing to the weakest among us, and directing us to protect HER.

Just an observation: It’s hard to protect someone else’s interests when we’re busy protecting our own. If we’re enmeshed in “self-interest,” we will always fail at doing what Jesus did—no matter how noble our intentions. We will not be “Christ-followers;” we might even risk being “Christ-failures.”

I believe Jesus tells us—in order that we can fight the constant urging to look out for ourselves and what we have or may have “earned” for our enjoyment—that the pathway of suffering is safer for eternal life than the pathway of personal merit. “If your hand causes you to stumble, cut it off; it is better for you to enter life maimed than to have two hands and to go to hell; …if your foot causes you to stumble, cut it off; it is better for you to enter life lame than to have two feet and to be thrown into hell; …if your eye causes you to stumble, tear it out; it is better for you to enter the kingdom of God with one eye than to have two eyes and to be thrown into hell.”

What Jesus says to us, when we imagine that child in his arms, has to do stumbling. The Greek word is [Skandalidzo]—which sounds a lot like “scandalize,” and actually that isn’t a bad translation. We should not “scandalize” them, as if “to scandalize” has to do with causing another to sin or to “fall away from faith.” The true sense of this verb suggests that “one becomes so horrified that one simply cannot remain or go forward along the path;” it’s an act or an event that serves to divert one away from one’s faith or discipleship. So think in terms of our human greed that would teach us the life of discipleship “costs” too much and gives back too little; one “scandal” being that worldly living teaches us to pursue “comfortableness” and not “sacrifice;” or another “scandal” being our perpetual “unhappiness” when life doesn’t serve us fully in the ways we think we’d life—where we teach human gain rather than pursuing loving neighbor at our own cost.

In the mean time, Jesus tells us—ironically—that this “little one” in his arms, BELIEVES. No attachment to Jesus is necessary, no personal profession of “accepting Jesus into his or her heart;” it’s as if “ belief” or “faith” comes already installed. [What a gift for us all, by the way!] Yet Jesus would make us not only the protector of these “little ones,” but also to lead by example in “holding him or her.” The way we live our lives, in fact, has the ability to “scandalize.” And I believe most poignantly, Jesus would point to our ever-present desire to PROTECT OURSELVES and what we have, rather than our acting to PROTECT OTHERS.

To put ourselves ahead of our neighbor is to deny the second great commandment. It may be why the rich man who comes to Jesus asking about eternal life actually leaves brokenhearted—the truth may be, following the basic commands of God’s law—loving God and our neighbor as ourselves truly does run counter to our ‘instinct’ to protect ourselves and our own interests! And if that’s what we “teach by example” to our children, or to the “little ones,” it is “scandalous!”

If we teach bad examples, of course, we deserve to be cut off. If we protect only ourselves and our own selfish interests; if we “scandalously” take faith away, by living in a way that is not a following of Christ—we deserve the millstone. If we seek our own way and think not about the consequences, we become “Christ-failures.” Because whether we believe or not, we’re called to act like we have a “child” in our hands.


--+ AMEN.