And Yet: Ash Wednesday

 2 Corinthians 5:20b-6:10                                                                        February 18, 2026 

            The challenge in preaching Ash Wednesday is the same challenge that clergy face on Christmas.  It’s the same readings year after year.  This year I thought I had a great new take on Joel and then realized that was exactly what I preached last year. In previous years, I have preached about why we put ashes on our head even though the Gospel reading tells us not to disfigure our faces.  My theory is that it’s actually an admission of our own hypocrisy, which is a good and heathy thing to admit.  We are all hypocrites about something in our lives.  I have preached that amazing line from Joel, “rend your hearts and not your clothing.”  What I have never preached on is 2^nd Corinthians, partly because it doesn’t seem to really belong in Ash Wednesday…at least not as clearly as the others.

            Yet I found myself coming back to the last two verses of this text from 2^nd Corinthians over and over.  “We are treated as impostors, and yet are true; as unknown, and yet are well known; as dying, and see-- we are alive; as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, and yet possessing everything.”  One of the things that I love about Paul (who is the individual who wrote 2^nd Corinthians and much of the New Testament) is his humanity.  We see his insecurities and his defensiveness close up.  If the Bible was written today, this would have been so highly edited and polished, we would not hear any of the phrases that make the great heroes of the Bible accessible and relatable. While the Bible has been translated thousands of times, the word still retains the truth of the people who wrote it.

            Paul was clearly getting some push back from the people of Corinth. His mission was to spread the Gospel far and wide, so he moved from place to place, never staying terribly long.  He was in Corinth a little longer than he was in other places, about a year and half, but in the grand scheme of things, that’s not a very long time. After he left, other religious leaders stepped in and seemed to have contradicted Paul’s message, probably offering another path, an easier path.  Since Paul didn’t know Jesus personally, people used his lack of first hand knowledge to undermine his message. 

Thus we see him defending himself quite a bit in his letters.  Here he provides us a list of the hardships he has endured as well as his virtues.  It was a common rhetorical technique at the time---listing hardships and virtues. This list almost seems to be doing what the Gospel tells us not to do—practicing one’s piety before others.  Then again, maybe he didn’t have a choice.  For people to believe the message he was sharing, they had to believe the messenger.  Still I find it fascinating that this man who accomplished so much was just a little insecure.

            Let me return to those lines that first got my attention. I get excited when I see the phrase “and yet” in the Bible.  It usually speaks to a tension…often between what we are experiencing now and what will we experience in God’s kingdom.  It speaks to that primal hope---even though things are rough now, it’s going to get better.  In this reading, it speaks to another tension of how others perceive us (or how we think they perceive us) as compared to the way that God perceives us.

            “We are treated as impostors, and yet are true; as unknown, and yet are well known;” I have known a fair amount of people with imposter syndrome.  I assume some degree of it is normal.  Yet it concerns me when I see it in Christians—people of faith fearful of calling themselves a Christian.  It’s sometimes because they don’t believe everything, or because they have a past they are not proud of, or maybe a present they aren’t proud of. 

People have told me, “if you really knew me, you wouldn’t think I belong here.” I always tell them, I don’t need to know all of you to know that you belong here. Because God knows all of you. Church isn’t a finishing school for Christians who are 90% there and just trying to get to 100%.  It’s for anyone who is ready to admit that they have fallen short and they want to be better. It is for anyone who wants to deepen or explore their faith. It’s for people who want to know Jesus. Paul knew what it was to be treated as an imposter.  Jewish people thought he had failed as a rabbi. Many Christians knew he had persecuted Christians and were still not convinced he was a real Christian.  But he knew that in God’s eyes he was true.  It didn’t matter that no one knew him entirely because God knew all of him and still loved him.   

We are “dying, and see-- we are alive”   This is the line that belongs on Ash Wednesday. In just a few minutes, I will put ashes on your forehead and remind you of your mortality…that you are dust and to just you will return.  Yet while we are all dying (at different rates), we are still very much alive, no matter if you are 25 of 85.  You are still alive. That is a precious thing.  It also comes with a certain responsibility. What will you do with this beautiful life you have been given?  How can you serve God and God’s people?

We are “sorrowful, yet always rejoicing.”  Life is really hard and often depressing.  If you are aware of the things going on around you, it would be impossible not be a little sad. We could go around bemoaning the state of the world 100% of the time, or we could find times and ways to rejoice—not because we are ignoring the suffering, but because we still have a loving God and there is always some place where we can find joy. Even on Ash Wednesday, we rejoice because we have a God who loves us unconditionally.

We are “poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, and yet possessing everything.”  We have all seen the people who have everything they need and more, but are still desperate to acquire more stuff. They are never content with what they have. We see it in our culture way too much.  We have also seen people who have just what they need and somehow seem to have more than enough to give. Their life is one of abundance. God looks at us and see us as more than enough. You are more than enough.

Ash Wednesday is the beginning of Lent.  You could look at Lent and see the penitence and the focus on sin and say, “Oh God, not again. There is too much suffering, I don’t need any more. I don’t need more reasons to feel bad about myself.”  And yet….we could look at this as an opportunity to see the person that God sees…to chip away at the residue that has hardened around your heart and see yourself as a beloved child of God who has these 40 days to draw closer to God, to create a clean heart and be the person who God has created you to be. That is what Lent offers each one of us, a new beginning.

Living with Purpose: March 23

 Year C, Lent 3                                 Luke 13:1-9                                                                                                          One of my least favorite things about living near the coast of Virginia was the 3 month period when we were on alert for hurricanes.  Fortunately, in the 18 years that I lived there, we never had a devastating storm.  We had some bad ones, but none that caused severe damage or loss of life.  I was living in Norfolk, which is right next to Virginia Beach.  Virginia Beach was the home of the Christian Broadcasting Network and Regent University, both founded by Pat Robertson.  The joke was that we didn’t have to worry about hurricanes because either Pat Robertson would pray the storm away, or it just wouldn’t affect us because of the moral leadership of Pat Robertson. 

We just got a small piece of the storm.

Robertson often linked disasters to the morality of the people in the places these  disasters affected. When an earthquake killed hundreds of thousands of people in Haiti, he said it was because they made a pact with the devil. When a hurricane threatened coastal Virginia, Robertson claimed that he prayed it away and God would never want to damage his Christian campus and ministry.  Instead, the hurricane hit North and South Carolina, killing 17 people there.

            Robertson is not the only Christian leader to make these kinds of connections.  However, before his death just a few years ago, he was one of the few who had his own television network and university to amplify his views.  There is a part of many of us that connects bad things that happen to what we have or have not done. Whether we admit it or not, we often connect good things with good people and bad things with bad people.  It drives us crazy when bad things happen to really good people. How many times have you said or heard someone say, “They didn’t deserve that.”  Consider the stories of people who give credit to God when they missed their flight on a plane that crashed. The implication is that God wanted that individual to live while letting the others die.  If you look at our Gospel reading today, you will hear Jesus addressing this question of why things happen to certain people and not others.  Unfortunately, he didn’t provide a very clear answer.

            It starts off clear. The people in his midst (probably a mix of disciples and onlookers) mentioned 2 recent incidents, one which was the deaths of a group of people at the hands of Pilate.   We know of Pilate as he was involved in Jesus’ death, but he was well known as being brutal with the Jewish people, quick to subdue any potential insurrection with violence.  When the people mentioned this incident, Jesus guessed that they were bringing this up because they wanted an explanation. Perhaps it was coming from a place of fear.  Were they next? Perhaps just curiosity. Have you ever noticed when something horrible happens, we are all desperate to find an explanation, partly to prevent other bad things happening, but also because we are wondering—how can we avoid this terrible thing from happening to us?  What can we tell ourselves to make us feel better?

            Jesus answered their non-question with a question: “Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans? No, I tell you…” This answer probably made them feel a mix of relief and fear. If they thought they were more sinful then most, it was relief.  If they felt they were actually good people, they probably didn’t like this answer, because this meant they could do nothing to avoid horrible things happening to them.  So far, I like this answer by Jesus.  If I concluded that everything bad that has happened to me was connected to my sins and God’s anger about my sins—I would have a difficult time worshipping that kind of God and it would be a miserable way to live. 

Then Jesus goes on… and here is where things get murky.  “No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did.”  This is a good example of why we can’t read the Bible literally. Obviously, not everyone who refused to repent was going to be killed by Pilate.  Pilate just didn’t have that kind of time.  However, it appears that he was saying that there will be consequences when we don’t repent.  That sounds a little scary. We have to be really careful not to make this into some kind of formula. Like, if you don’t repent, bad things happen.  It’s not that simple. We have all seen people who have gotten through life without there being any obvious consequences for their bad behavior.  But just because we don’t see the consequences doesn’t mean there aren’t any.

I believe what Jesus is doing here is shifting the perspective of the crowd.  They wanted this conversation to be about the sins of other people. It’s so much easier to judge other people then look at ourselves.  I think we all know that when we sin, there are consequences, sometimes to other people, sometimes to our planet, but most often to ourselves. When Jesus says, “unless you repent” it looks like a judgment or an ultimatum.  Yet what if we perceive repentance as an opportunity for us to examine our lives and ask for forgiveness?  So many people move through life carrying guilt and shame.  This is Jesus saying, you don’t have to carry that forever. You can repent and wipe the slate clean.  It’s not easy, but you can do it, with God’s help. 

A lot of people think that if we emphasize the God of love and compassion, then we can’t possibly talk about a God who judges or holds us accountable.  If you have a child or remember being a child, you know that life without consequences doesn’t help the child.  When a parent says no to their child or reprimands them, that doesn’t mean they don’t love their child. We are God’s children and God loves us so very much, but God wants us to be better, do better.

That is what the parable at the end of our Gospel is about as well. A fig tree is planted in a garden and after the appropriate amount of time, the owner of the fig tree sees that it’s not bearing fruit and decides to cut it down.  The gardener says, let’s give it some help (manure) and some more time and then we will cut it down if it doesn’t bear fruit.  There are consequences, but there is also grace.  When we find that our sin are building up and stop us from being the people that God want us to be, we can ask God for help and God is going to give us the help and the time we need.  But that doesn’t mean that God has no expectations on us or our behavior. 

There is urgency in this text because as we all know, life is far too fragile.  It’s so easy to put our relationship with God on the back burner because there are always more pressing demands on our time and energy.  What Jesus is doing here is encouraging a faith that is action oriented, a faith that bears fruit.   The fig tree had a purpose, to grow figs. Each one of us has a purpose as well.  It’s probably not always as clear as it is with a fruit tree, but we all have a purpose, one that contributes not just to our own life, but this world that we live in.

 If you are thinking, I don’t know what my purpose is. Loving God, loving your neighbor, sharing the love of God— that is a good place to start.  Having a purpose doesn’t mean we have a life plan that is all figured out. It means that we live with intention and hope. One thing I love about our faith is that Jesus tells us no matter who we are, what we do, how far along we are in our journey of faith, we have a reason for being.  We might not know our plan, but there is a plan. The closer we are to God, the closer we are to our purpose.

Lent Will Break Your Heart: February 22, 2023

 Year A Ash Wednesday                        Joel 2:1-2, 12-17                                                                                         

            The reading from the prophet Joel begins, “Blow the trumpet in Zion; sound the alarm on my holy mountain! Let all the inhabitants of the land tremble, for the day of the Lord is coming near—a day of darkness and gloom…”  Welcome to Lent!  This is what you expect from Lent, isn’t it? Darkness, gloom, and then guilt and shame.  It’s your fault all these terrible things are happening.  If you want things to turn things around, you must repent.  That’s’ the way these readings from the prophets normally go. And if you read Joel with that expectation, that is what you will get.  However, upon closer inspection, you might see that Joel is a bit different than the other prophets.

            The first two chapters talk about the destruction of the land due to an enormous locust invasion.  A locust infestation would have destroyed their crops, which was their source of food and money.  It wasn’t just a nuisance; it was a disaster that affected every part of their lives.  What is interesting is that Joel never blames this invasion of locusts on the sins of the people, which was a fairly typical tactic at this time. 

            He painted an alarming and disturbing picture, but given the fact that this was their unavoidable reality, it seems a reasonable thing to do.  But he never blames anyone. In the midst of this disturbing picture, Joel shifts the tone and writes, “Yet even now, says the Lord, return to me with all your heart…” Typically when we see the word return in this context of Ash Wednesday, we think: repentance, confession. And Joel does suggest fasting, weeping and mourning—which we might also associate with repentance.  But consider this, their crops have been decimated.  They are already fasting out of necessity.  If they aren’t weeping and mourning, it’s only because they don’t feel comfortable doing so.  Maybe they are just holding it all together like so many of us do. In some ways, Joel is giving them permission to weep and mourn.

             Then Joel says, “rend your hearts and not your clothing.” Joes doesn’t want them to rip their clothing which is a traditional display of guilt and shame.  He doesn’t ask them to roll in the dirt.  He’s not asking them to repent of sins and he’s not accusing them of anything.  He asks them to fast, to weep, to mourn and to rend their hearts. 

`           Rend your hearts.  It literally means to tear your heart…which sounds a lot like a broken heart.  Frankly I would rather tear my clothing.  But we must remember that these people were already suffering. Their hearts were probably already broken.  Joel was asking them to break them a little more…but not so they could punish themselves.  He was asking them to rend their hearts so that they could renew their relationship with God.  “Return to the Lord, your God, for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.”

            We don’t know why the people have distanced themselves from God. Maybe it was something they did, maybe it was totally out of their control. Perhaps, they didn’t even know it was happening.  And then suddenly they realized, they no longer had a relationship with God. Maybe the stress of the famine had been too much for them. Or they lost too many people they loved. It could have been an intentional decision, but more likely, it was just a gradual distancing.  That is what it usually is. 

            Joel wasn’t telling people to repent (and just so you know, there is nothing wrong with repentance, it’s a good and important thing), but that is not what this story was about.  How do we know? Because he wasn’t telling them what to repent from.  No, his very ardent desire was for them to reconnect with God, reorient their lives in a way that God would once again be at the center. 

            Joel wasn’t spending time asking why all these horrible things are happening and why God feels so far away—as we so often see in the psalms and even our own lives.  No.  He was calling for action.  He believed that what we do as humans matter.  It affects the world and it affects our relationship with God.  In Hebrew thought, the heart isn’t the seat of the emotion as much as it’s a place of thought and reflection.  When Joel told the people to rend their hearts, he wanted them to spend time considering how they can repair their relationship with God. Don’t obsess over why it’s happening or why it isn’t fair.  None of that will help.  Instead, Joel is saying, “Ok, this is the horrible stuff we are dealing with and this is how we are going to climb out of it. 

            First we will fast. Then we will weep and mourn. Then we will spend time reconnecting with the God of grace and mercy.  Then…well Joel doesn’t actually predict what will happen after that.  He doesn’t promise that the harvest will return and all will be well again.  Joel doesn’t make any promises at all…it’s more like an appeal.  He encourages them to join together—weep together, pray together, reconnect with God and with the people of God.

            That is what we are asking during Lent as well. We haven’t had an invasion of locusts, but we’ve had about every other imaginable thing.  Maybe you feel like you are 100% committed to God right now and there is absolutely no way you can improve upon that. If so, you can stop listening.  Otherwise, it might be time to take the advice of Joel.  Fast…if not from food, from the thing that distracts you most from your relationship with God.  Weep and mourn…if not for yourself for someone else.  There is no shortage of suffering people in our world today.  Tear you heart, not with the intent to hurt, but to open it up a little more to God’s mercy and grace.  Join the community of faith, because this is hard stuff and you might need some support.  Come to our Lenten program Wednesday nights where people will be sharing parts of their faith journey.  Attend every Sunday service you can attend.  Make an appointment with Mark or me if you need to talk. Seriously, clergy live for those kinds of conversations.  Return to God with all your heart. 

Glory Is All Around: Feb 19, 2023

 Year A, Last Sunday of Epiphany                                       Matthew 17:1-9                                                        

         It’s the last Sunday before Lent begins, the last Sunday for us to sing as many Alleluias as possible and sing them loudly. This Sunday ends our season of Epiphany, the time we talk about light and revelation. It’s a season that we can easily overlook, like the calm before the dark storm that is Lent.  Lent isn’t really stormy.  It’s just a season that we happen to associate with suffering and darkness.  The first day of Lent is Ash Wednesday.  What do we do on Ash Wednesday? We smear ash on people’s faces and remind them that they are going to die.  It’s truly a wonder that anyone comes to that service. 

            This Gospel reading is an interesting transition from Epiphany to Lent.  It’s a story of light and revelation, but there is a certain foreboding within the story---well really on either side of the story.  Right before Jesus ascended the mountain with three of his disciples, he explained that he would have to suffer and die.  Peter argued with Jesus when he made this revelation.  Peter could not wrap his head around the idea that the messiah—the person who was supposed to save them all—would soon be killed. 

It was after this information was relayed that Jesus brought his friends to the top of the mountain.  I have often wondered about the timing.  Was Jesus hoping to provide some clarity for his disciples about the message he had just given them, or was he just trying to have some quality time with his friends who were probably reeling from this new and disturbing information?  We really don’t know. 

            We often hear people talk about mountain top experiences.  Sometimes it is literally about the experience of climbing to the top of a mountain and witnessing an extraordinary view that takes your breath away.  Sometimes people use that phrase to describe a time of transcendence—a moment where they felt closer to God, a time of faith and assurance.  We can actually use that phrase for a lot of different things.

Mount Tabor

However, Jesus’ disciples would have had some specific associations with mountain tops. The mountain was where heaven and earth met. It was a place that people encountered the divine.  Mountains are mentioned more than 500 times in the Bible, most notably in Moses’ interactions with the voice of God.  That is where Moses received the 10 Commandments. Important things happened on mountains in the Jewish faith. All of Jesus’ disciples would have known these stories well and thus known the significance of the mountain.

            Therefore, it’s not surprising that these amazing things would happen at the top of the mountain.  First Jesus was transfigured before them—meaning his face got shiny and his clothes were extra bright. Then two prophets, who were long since dead, appeared.  After that a voice from heaven spoke to the disciples…the disciples.  And here is the crazy thing, of all those miraculous events that happened on that mountaintop, it wasn’t the glowing Jesus or two dead prophets back to life, it was something as simple as a voice.  That is what really got the disciple’s attention.  It wasn’t just any voice.  It was God’s voice. And for once, God was talking directly to the disciples. 

That is what really freaked them out. They were accustomed to things happening to Jesus, and maybe even to the people around them.  They had witnessed their share of miracles. But this was different, because God was talking to them and more importantly he was telling them to do something, to listen to Jesus.  And what had Jesus just told them? He had told them that he had to suffer and die and they too would have to take up their cross if they wanted to be his followers.   It’s not the kind of thing you want to hear from a heavenly voice. It’s the kind of thing you want to tell yourself was just a big misunderstanding and of course Jesus didn’t mean that he was really going to suffer and die.

            When the three disciples heard the voice from heaven, they fell to the earth in fear.   Because the earth was what they knew.  It was firm. Maybe, just maybe if they stayed there for a while they could forget this all happened.  Then Jesus bent over and touched them and he said, “Get up and do not be afraid.”  When they looked up, they saw it was just them and Jesus, just the way it should be.  And maybe they thought this was all just a dream and they could forget it.  But no, Jesus made sure to remind them on the way down the mountain, that he would have to suffer and die. This time, no one argued with him. 

            Lent isn’t merely a time of suffering and darkness.  It’s a time when we confront certain truths, maybe truths that we don’t want to confront.  It’s a time to repent from our sins.  No one likes to talk about sin.  But repentance isn’t just a about feeling guilt and shame, it’s a reorientation. It’s an opportunity to change, for the better.  The reason we have the story of the transfiguration right before Lent is to remind us that even in the midst of suffering and repentance, there is also glory and light.  There is a God who desperately wants us to listen to him, but is also willing to get on the ground with us, put his hand on our shoulder and say, “It’s time to get up and stop living in fear.”

            On the way down Jesus told his disciples not to tell anyone about what happened until he was resurrected.  I like to think he told them this because he knew that they would need this reminder of a light that we can find even in the darkest of times.  They didn’t need to use this moment to evangelize and teach.  It was just for them, a place to return in their mind and heart when the world seemed to be ending.  When Jesus was hanging on the cross, they could close their eyes---see the light and feel his hand on their shoulder telling them not to be afraid.

            That’s what many of us need—a reminder to find courage when we are afraid, a reminder that we need not fear the terror of the night—that we can confront those things we would rather avoid and forget.  Lent is a time to face our fears, our failures, and our sins---but to do that with the knowledge that those failures and sins can never defeat us because we have a God who can both glorify the earth and also kneel down next to us when our face in on the ground, brush us off and tell us not to be afraid because glory (God’s glory) is all around us. 

Look at the Stars: March 17, 2019

Year C, Lent 2                                                                         

Genesis 15:1-12, 17-18                                                                     

            I started the ordination process when I was 26.  I had just finished my 3^rd year in seminary, so things were a little backwards for me.  Typically you enter the ordination process before going to seminary. Therefore, when they told me ordination was probably 2 years out (and that was only because the Bishop was supporting an expedited process), that seemed like forever.  It wasn’t-- but at age 26, it felt like forever.   People kept telling me to be patient and that, “God’s time is not your time.”  That was really annoying…because what can you possibly say to that when the vocation you are pursuing is one  that expects that not only will you trust God, but also talk to other people about the importance of trusting God?  I was told by a mentor that I needed to be careful that I never gave the impression (to anyone in authority) that I was in a hurry and certainly that I should not complain to anyone about how long it was taking. That turned out to be very good advice.      

            Thankfully God doesn’t have the same rules about complaining.  Because if God did, Abraham would never have become the father of a nation and one of the fathers of our faith. Then again, he had more to complain about than I did.  God had picked Abraham out of obscurity to be a leader.  He had promised Abraham, that if he obeyed him, he would be given land and children.   The piece about children was extra important to Abraham because by the time God called him, his wife Sarah was already considered barren, which means they were a bit on the older side.  Despite their inability to conceive, God had promised Abraham that his descendants would be as numerous as the dust of the earth. Yet by the time we get to our reading for today, decades have passed since that initial promise---Abraham had done everything that God had asked of him--- and he and his wife were still childless. 

            Thus, when God came to him and declared, “Do not be afraid…I am your shield; your reward shall be very great”---Abraham’s response was a little exasperated.  Now, obviously, I wasn’t there, but I imagine Abraham reacting a bit like this:.

         He essentially said, “You haven’t even come through on the first promise you gave me.  I want a child!” God’s response is interesting.  God didn’t say, “Look, your time isn’t the same as my time.  You need to be patient.” He said, “Look toward heaven and count the stars, if you are able to count them.  So shall your descendants be.” He didn’t defend his promise or the lack of progress on that promise.  He expanded the promise.  He said to Abraham, this is bigger than you can possibly imagine.  Forget the whole dust of the earth analogy I used before, now I want you to imagine the stars of the sky.  That is how vast your progeny will be. 

And you know what, that was all it took for Abraham.  He believed.  He still had some complaining to do---but he believed.  Minutes later when God again promised him acquisition of land, Abraham asked him to give him some proof.  It’s not that Abraham didn’t believe God’s promise. He did.  But he needed something tangible.

            That’s when things get a little weird in our reading.  God asked Abraham for some animals that could be sacrificed.  He asked Abraham to cut the animals in two and then Abraham fell asleep.  When it was night, a smoking fire pot and a flaming torch passed between the two halves of each animal.  After the smoking pot and flaming torch passed between the sacrificed animals, the Lord made his covenant with Abraham.  Really, he affirmed the covenant that he had already made.

            Let me break down the imagery of the smoking fire pot and flaming torch.  First of all the Hebrew word translated to covenant means, “to cut.” Thus, cutting the animals in half symbolized creating/cutting the covenant.  In this scene, the smoking pot and flaming torch symbolized the Lord and by passing through the cut animals, the Lord was showing Abraham that he was the one making the promise.   By passing through these dead animals, God was deepening the promise by making it about life and death.  One commentator (Rolf Jacobson) described this by giving God these words: “I pledge my very life as surety of this promise.  If I fail to keep this promise, let me be slain just as the goat, the sheep and the ram were slain.”[1]  It’s hard to get more tangible than that.

            Here’s the thing about God.  God always keeps his promises.  Sometimes it takes a little longer than we would hope.  It would be many more years before Sarah would conceive her first born.  And it would be even more years before God would make that ultimate sacrifice that he predicted that night with Abraham—sacrificing himself. 

We are in the season of Lent.  Every Sunday, Jesus comes a little closer to his death. While God did keep his promise with Abraham, God’s people did not hold up our end of the deal. We still could not commit to a relationship with God.   But God never breaks promises and God never gives up on his children.  His love is so deep and so wide, that God will do anything to redeem that love, even if it means dying on the cross.  So despite the fact that God did not break his promise, God decided that the only way we could see his love was by sacrificing himself. 

            It’s ok to complain to God.  Because if you are complaining, that means you are still talking.  If you are still talking, that means that you still have hope.  And as long you maintain that sliver of hope, God will find a way to break through and show you how deep and wide his love for you is.  When God told Abraham to look at the sky and try to count the stars, he wasn’t just reminding him of the number of ancestors he would have.  He was encouraging him to look outside of himself.  So often, we can get caught up in our own worries (or the worries of those closest to us) that we forget to open our eyes wide enough to see the evidence of God’s love that is all around us. 

During Lent we emphasize the importance of inner reflection and examination.  That is important.  But sometimes when we are doing that internal reflection, we are just talking to ourselves instead of talking to God, or more importantly, listening to God.  God’s love is deep and wide. It lives within us and beyond us.  If for some reason, you can’t feel God within you, look outside.  Maybe, do something trite like watching the sun set over the water or gaze at the stars on a clear night or listen to a particularly powerful piece of music or maybe just take a deep breath and remember how lucky you are to be breathing when for so many, breathing is agony.  Then when you have that experience, send me an e-mail or give me a call because I need reminders of God’s majesty and love as much as each of you.  Hopefully, that is what we are for one another in the church, evidence of God’s love, a love that will never give up.

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[1] Rolf Jacobson from Working Preacher: http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=4001

Confession of a Hypocrite: Ash Wednesday

Year B, Ash Wednesday     
Matthew 6                                                                                           February 14, 2018

 

            One of the biggest criticisms of Christians is that we are hypocrites.  We say one thing and we do another.  We act one way in church and then an entirely different way when we are out of church.  We claim to love everyone, but we don’t treat everyone the same way.  These are just some of the accusations that I have heard lobbed at Christians as a whole.  I am always tempted to defend Christians or claim that we Episcopalians are different, but I know that won’t help.  That’s what hypocrites do…deny their hypocrisy.

            In the Gospel for today, Jesus tells us how not to be like the hypocrites.  There were three things that Jews were expected to do: give alms to the poor, pray, and fast.  The problem wasn’t that people were not doing those things.  They were, but some were doing them for the wrong reasons.  When they gave alms, they would make sure that everyone knew they were giving money to the poor.  Giving lots of money provided a certain status because not only did it mean that you had a lot of money to give, but that you were exceptionally good and generous.  When people prayed, they would not only do it in a public place, but they would make their prayers as long as possible, so as to appear more pious.  Finally, while the Jews only have one day (the Day of Atonement) where fasting is necessary, many of the Pharisee and scribes fasted on Mondays and Thursdays.  They flaunted their piety by parading around in public looking dismal and hungry.  Sometimes they would even whiten their face to make themselves look more pale and underfed.  They wanted everyone to know that they were the holy ones, they were the ones who were closest to God.  While these actions should have made them closer to God, they were too focused on impressing their peers.

As much as I may want to judge these Pharisees and pretend that I am not at all like them, I am not sure I can.  How many of us wait to make sure the cashier or waiter is looking before putting money in the tip jar? How many of us get annoyed when we do not get a thank you note after giving a gift or making a donation?  I am always mortified when I am in church or some assembly where they are taking an offering and I realize I have no cash to give, nor do I have a checkbook.  I am not mortified because I cannot give to the cause or the charity.  I am mortified because I am worried about what people around me will think.  Sometimes I will even be extra thorough as I search through my purse so the person next to me will understand my predicament.  I understand what it is to want people to know that you are doing good.   

Ash Wednesday is a little confusing.  We read a Gospel reading that specifically says that we should not try to look dismal like the people who disfigure their face when they are fasting. Do you know one of the ways they disfigured their face?  They put ash on their face.  After we proclaim these words of Jesus about not disfiguring our face, we put ash on everyone’s face.  While it’s not a written rule, the unspoken rule is that you leave the ash on your forehead the rest of the day. It’s quite a juxtaposition.            

Before we get too critical of the practice of putting ash on our heads, it’s important to know that there is biblical precedent.  In the Old Testament, when people were repenting before God, one way to prove their humility was to put ash on their face.  Most times this pleased God.  This was seen as an appropriate gesture.

 It also reminds us of our mortality.  After Adam and Eve disobeyed God, God told them their punishment.  He listed many things and ended with, “By the sweat of your face you shall eat bread until you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken; you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”  By putting ash on our face, we are reminded that we were created from the earth, and one day we will return to the earth.  It kind of puts things in perspective.

Yet I think there is something else going on.  It’s about more than repentance or our mortality.  It’s about being honest about who we are.   As Christians, we occasionally are hypocritical.  It’s almost impossible not to be.  We are trying to follow the teachings of Jesus, a man who was perfect.  We know we should be emulating him, but we don’t always act like Jesus.  There is a lot of time we don’t act like Jesus.  We aren’t perfect, but we still call ourselves Christian. 

One of my favorite quotes about church is that “we are not a museum for the saints, we are a hospital for sinners.”  We do not come to church because we are perfect Christians. We come to church because we know that we need help being Christian and that hearing God’s word and participating in the sacraments helps remind us of what it is to be a Christian.  We might mess up as soon as we walk out, but it’s usually unintentional.  By walking out of this church with ash on our foreheads, we are saying, “Yup, sometimes I am a hypocrite---but I am trying really hard not to be.”

The ashes that we put on our face expose the world to who we truly are.  It’s the one time when we can freely admit that we are sinners and are in need of repentance.  Everyone is covered with the same ash.  We all share the same desolation, in that we are all sinners.  If you feel like you always have to pretend that you are happier, smarter, more pious than you are…this is your day to expose the real you.  So maybe this is hypocritical. But you know what, at least we can admit that.  That is what Lent is about—a time to reflect on who we are and find ways to be closer to God.

 

Idea of admitting our own hypocrisy was from a sermon by Dr. Elizabeth Huwiler given on February 9, 2005 at Lutheran  Theological Seminary Chapel.
http://www.ltsp.edu/reflections/2004-2005/050209huwiler.html

 

 

Unlimited Mulligans: March 5, 2017

Year A, Lent 1                                                                        
Genesis 2:15-17, 3:1-7                                                                       

            I was a fairly regular church attendee through my youth, college and even after.  However, for some reason, Lent always came as a surprise to me.  I would come to church one Sunday and I would think, “Why is everyone so depressed? Why is the music so sad?” Then I would look at the altar hangings and see the purple, I might notice something in the bulletin and it would click.  Or right…it’s Lent.  How long is Lent again?  Of course Lent was also identified as the time I gave up something which was never particularly fun.  I am afraid that is how many of us think of Lent…oh that again.  In some ways we treat it as this time we have to get through to get to Easter.  The readings don’t help much. They are all about sin and judgment. 

            Let’s start with the first reading, which we are told--is all about the first sin, when sin entered our world.  Here they were, Adam and Eve, sitting in paradise. They had no 9-5 job dragging them down.  The weather was probably perpetually sunny.  They got along all the time.  God was talking to them, caring for them.  They could eat the fruit from any tree….any tree but one.  So of course they had to eat from that one tree.  For millennia people have blamed this transgression on Eve and I have addressed that in other sermons. The blame doesn’t belong on Eve, at least not entirely. 

There is the serpent of course; we could put all the blame there.  He was crafty.  He took God’s words and twisted them. He appealed to human pride.  However, the blame does not rest on any one person or animal and trying to determine who is to blame is at best useless and at worst detrimental to understanding the text. It’s true.  They committed a sin.  God had given them everything and they jeopardized all of that in the hope that they could be more like God, more like the creator than the creature. 

            Thus, they were expelled from the garden, from paradise.  As a result of this expulsion, instead of being more like God, they were further from God.  They could still communicate with God, but it was harder and seemed to get even harder for every generation thereafter, at least until Jesus came.  While God punished Adam and Eve, he let them live.  They still had food.  They had shelter. They had one another and the promise of children.  While there time in paradise ended, they had a new beginning. They had an opportunity to start over.

            Today we began the service with something called an “Invitation to the Observance of a Holy Lent.” This is part of the Ash Wednesday service, but I find it appropriate for the first Sunday of Lent as well.  The last paragraph reads, “I invite you … to the observance of a holy Lent, by self-examination and repentance; by prayer, fasting, and self-denial; and by reading and meditating on God’s holy Word. And, to make a right beginning of repentance…let us now kneel before the Lord, our maker and redeemer.”  Some of those things sound ok.  Self-examination, prayer, reading the Bible…those things are fair expectations of Christians.  But repentance, fasting, self-denial…those things do not sound appealing at all.  Those are the reasons that people do not like Lent. 

            Going through Lent without the repentance, confession and self-examination is kind of like expecting to lose weight by reciting body affirmations but not exercising or eating right.  In order to really transform your body, you have to do the work.  Sometimes that work is miserable, but sometimes, it makes you feel really good.  It’s the same with confession, repentance and self-examination. It’s hard to be honest about yourself.  It is hard to do the work that will make you a better person and a better Christian. It is hard to acknowledge your sins and weaknesses and ask God and others for help.  But all those hard things allow you to become a better person.  Confessing your sins and working hard not to sin again doesn’t just make you a better person, it brings you closer to God.  Even though it seems that you are doing all this work for yourself, you are really doing it for God.   Repentance is not merely the acknowledgment and condemnation of our sins…it is a process of renewal.  It literally means to turn around and reorient ourselves. 

            We don’t know what happened to Adam and Eve after they left the garden.  While they certainly felt guilty for offending God---sinning against God, it is not clear that they repented.   We don’t get the end of the story.  It is not until Jesus comes that we get the rest of the story. In many ways that is why Jesus is often referred to as the new Adam.  He provided the opportunity for humanity to begin again.  While the first humans (Adam and Eve) rejected the limitations of their humanity by trying to be like God, Jesus purposefully took on the limitations of humanity by becoming a human.  By becoming human he not only took on the limitations, he felt the effects of our sins. He had to resist sin and temptation. 

            The story of him in the desert with Satan is dramatic and powerful.  We see Jesus standing up to Satan and refusing to prove his divinity.  However, just because he withstood this temptation in the desert does not mean that he lived a life free of temptation and trials.  Much like us, he was faced with temptation every day.  Every day, he had to do the hard work of resisting sin. While he did not sin, he still experienced the effects of the sins of others.  He went through the agony of betrayal, abandonment and even death on the cross.  Because he went through all of that, he was given an opportunity to start over. His resurrection was a new beginning.  It continues to be a new beginning for us all. 

            It would be helpful if we could find a way to think of Lent not as a dreary time full of sadness and gnashing of teeth, but a new beginning.  I am not a golfer, despite the efforts of my grandparents and father.  However, I am going to attempt a golf analogy.  A mulligan is a free shot you get after you have a really bad shot. It does not count on the scorecard.  It is not a real rule, but is often used in more relaxed settings.  But here is the thing about a mulligan.  You still have to swing again. Someone doesn’t just say, you missed that one, let’s move your ball right next to the hole.  No, you get a chance to start over.  In starting over, it is usually most helpful if you avoid doing what you did the last time.  You want the next shot to be better than the last. 

In golf, you usually only get one mulligan per game.  However, in our Christian journey, we get many opportunities to start over without any penalty.  In our invitation to the observance of a Holy Lent, the last line calls us to kneel before our maker and redeemer.  Our maker and redeemer.  Lent is our opportunity to be made a new, to be redeemed by a God who loves us and cares for us.  It’s true.  We still have to do the work and that is not always fun.  But the end…the end is forgiveness, redemption and a new beginning.  That is not something that should make life dreary.  That is a cause for joy.

Failing more: Feb. 14, 2015

Year C, Lent 1              Luke 4:1-13                                                                            

           When I was in my early 20’s one of my brothers thought it would be fun to go sky diving together.   It sounded like an adventure, so I said yes.  The first time you go sky diving, you are required to go tandem.  This means there is someone on your back who has some sky diving expertise.  They can help steer you to the correct landing and also pull the cord if you forget.  I was really glad I had this person with me, because I did not have the presence of mind to pull the cord.  I am not sure I would have jumped had he not been with me.  All in all it was a good experience.  I am glad I did it, but will probably never be tempted to do it again. 

            We all know the story of Jesus’ temptation.  It is in the gospels of Matthew, Mark and Luke.  We begin every Lent with a temptation story.  Today, I am not going to talk about temptation in general, but specifically one of the tests that the devil gave to Jesus.   There were three tests. In the first, the devil asked a very hungry Jesus to change stones into bread.  Jesus quoted scripture and refused.  The second was an offer to provide Jesus ultimate power if he would only worship the devil.  Jesus refused and again provided scripture.   The third is the one I would like to focus on.  The devil asked Jesus to throw himself from the pinnacle of the temple.  This time the devil quoted scripture to support his request.   He quoted Psalm 91, which we just chanted together.  If Jesus really was the Son of God, then surely the angels would catch him.

            We all know that Jesus could have easily turned the stone into bread.  Later in his ministry he fed thousands with only five loaves of bread.  As far as the second test, he didn’t need to worship the devil to have power.  He already had the authority that the devil was offering.  He simply chose to wield it in a different way. Finally, he could have called on an army of angels to catch him, but he decided that instead he would fall as any human falls.  He would live as any human lives.  He would die as any human dies.

            What the devil was offering was a risk free life and ministry, one that would not involve potential failure….a path that would be much easier than the one that Jesus chose.  Assuming that Jesus knew he would be crucified in three years, I would imagine this would be the greatest temptation.  Who would not want a risk free life?  It reminds me of a quote that I occasionally see: “What would you attempt if you knew you could not fail?”  I find that question both inspiring and ridiculous.  It’s wonderful to consider the possibilities—of what we could do.  However if all we do is consider what could be done if success was guaranteed, then we would not learn how to fail. 

            One of my favorite poets is: Rainer Rilke. One of his poems reads:

This is what life can teach us:

to fall,
patiently to trust our heaviness.
Even a bird has to do that
before he can fly.

            That is less likely to end up on a motivational poster, but it seems more appropriate to me.  Nobody wants to fail. Nobody starts the New Year by making a resolution that they will fail more this year.  There were a lot of moments when it seemed to many that Jesus had failed.   He didn’t free the Jewish people from their Roman oppressors.  He did not endear himself to most of the religious leaders. He was betrayed, denied and deserted by the 12 people he chose to be his followers.   When he was put on trial, the people chose a common criminal (Barabbas) to free instead of him.  In the end he was killed in a humiliating way.  He was resurrected, but he didn’t do it in a very public way.  Most people didn’t even know it happened. To this day many people consider him a failure if they can even admit that he existed at all.  That isn’t a very impressive track record for someone we consider to be God in the flesh. 

            Jesus chose to live as a human.  He refused to take the easy way out; the method that the devil offered.  He did that so he could be an example for all of us mere humans.  We cannot call on angels to catch us--but we make a choice every day whether we will take the easy way or the hard way; whether we will risk our own comfort and happiness so we can be Disciples of Christ or whether we play it safe and be disciples of the path of least resistance. 

            I read that when a bird learns to fly, they sometimes fall to the ground.  Yet their mother will always be close by protecting the baby bird from predators, doing its best to keep the bird safe.  Yet the mother can’t keep the baby from falling.  It has to fall in order to fly. 

When I participated in tandem skydiving, I knew that if something really bad happened, the guy on my back would not be able to save me.  He probably wouldn’t even break the fall.  Yet I also knew that he was going to do everything in his power to keep me safe.  We were in this together.  God is like the mother bird, always watching and doing all he can to protect us.  In some ways life as a disciple of Christ is like tandem sky diving.  It is full of risk and the only way to experience life is to take those risks and be willing to fall.  However, God is with us the whole way sharing in the agony of defeat and the joy of success. 

            I challenge you this Lent to consider taking some risks and being open to failure.  Like the poet said, “Trust your own heaviness.”  If you take a leap of faith, you are going to fall at some point.  It’s inevitable.  But it’s not the end.  The heart of the Christian message is resurrection.  Even crucifixion only kept Jesus down for 3 days.   Perhaps instead of asking, “What would you attempt if you knew you could not fail?”---we would ask, “What would you attempt if you knew that failure was temporary and every failure provided a new beginning?”