Sermons

Genesis 18:20-32  Psalm 138  Colossians 2:6-15, (16-19)  Luke 11:1-13

Prayer is surrounding us from every side this morning.  It is prayer that is bold; it is prayer that is persistent; it is prayer that draws us closer to God.

We have just read of Jesus’ words of instruction on how we are to pray.  The prayer we know as the Lord’s Prayer is from the very lips of Jesus himself.  This, in itself, is a testimony to the power of the Christian message – the very words from our Savior’s lips passed down through two millenniums from Aramaic into the impeccable Greek in which Luke wrote his account of the Gospel, to be translated into the Latin of the early Church, then, at great risk to the reformist translator, into the vernacular languages of Germans and Englishmen of the 16^th century, and then, with the passing centuries into every language of worshiping Christians all over the world.

We are to pray boldly:  “Give us this day our daily bread.”  “Forgive us our trespasses.”  “Lead us not into temptation.”  We are not even instructed to say “Please.”

Think of the boldness of Abraham whom the Lord chose to be our first patriarch – the model of righteousness.  In our lesson from Genesis, Abraham stands before the Lord and speaks what we might consider the first prayer recorded in the Bible.  Boldly, yet respectfully, Abraham questions the Lord’s planned destruction of Sodom as judgment for the wickedness of the city,

“Will you indeed sweep away the righteous with the wicked?  Far be it from you to do such a thing, to slay the righteous with the wicked, so that the righteous fare as the wicked!  Far be that from you!  Shall not the Judge of all the earth do what is just?”

The Lord’s response to Abraham is a reflection of the Lord’s own sense of respect for the covenant they share. “If I find at Sodom fifty righteous in the city, I will forgive the whole place for their sake.”  Abraham counters the Lord’s offer, meekly imploring the Lord not to become angry at his pleadings; he gains the Lord’s agreement not to destroy the city if 45 are found to be righteous.  Suppose 40 are righteous?  How about 30?  Even 20?  And finally, 10?  Yes, if Abraham can find ten righteous people in Sodom, the Lord agrees to forgive the entire city for the sake of these ten righteous people.   Abraham’s prayer to the Lord is meek, acknowledging his condition of dust and ashes, but bravely bold nonetheless as Abraham seems, step by timid step, to draw closer and closer to the Lord.

We draw closer, step-by-step, to the Lord as we follow Jesus’ instruction to ask, seek, and knock so that the door will be opened.  These are not three separate actions – asking, seeking, knocking, but a process of drawing closer and closer.  God doesn’t change; it is we who are changed by prayer.  God is always near to us; it is through persistence in prayer that we draw ourselves closer to God.  Dietrich Bonhoeffer said, “When people pray, they have ceased to know themselves, and know only God whom they call upon.”[1]  Our desires are reshaped into God’s desires as we delight in his will and walk in his ways.

Without prayer, we are much like a boat being tossed about at sea without any sense of direction.  Recognizing the need to ask for direction, we begin to pray persistently; we begin to seek direction.   Through persistence in prayer, we are guided to a secure spot where we can toss our anchor and begin to pull ourselves closer and closer to the safety of the shore.  Persistently, we draw ourselves closer to the shoreline until we arrive at the door.  We knock, the door opens, and we find ourselves in oneness with God.

We ask; and we continue to pray with persistence and our asking becomes seeking a clearer understanding of our relationship with our neighbor and with God – God, our creator and sustainer who wants only what is best for us.  Seeking further, we knock; the door opens so that we cease to know ourselves separate from God.  There is no “other,” we are united in relationship with God.

The great 20^th century preacher George Buttrick sets up three scenarios concerning prayer:  First, if God does not exist, and our lives are solitary and uncivilized and short, then prayer is a dead-ending exercise of self-deceit.  Secondly, If God exists as some sort of clouded yet all-controlling force in our lives, then prayer would be a foolish empty expenditure of our energy.  But, in the words of the Rev. Buttrick, “if God is in some deep and eternal sense like Jesus, friendship with Him is our first concern, worthiest art, best resource, and sublimest joy.”[2]

A stolen quote penned in my prayer book that I keep at my bedside reads: “Prayer is an encounter with our dearest love, a longing for intimacy rather than a listing of wants and needs.”  There is an image planted in my mind of sitting face to face with Jesus, eye to eye.  Close your eyes for a moment and imagine that…  You are sitting face to face with Jesus.  Sit there in the silence and feel the warmth of his presence, note the compassion in his facial expression, see your own image reflected in his eyes.  Do you see your pain there?  He knows your pain.  Do you see there the reflection of your joys?  He knows your joys as well.  He is your dearest love.  He knows you; he knows your needs before you even know how to express them or ask his guidance in finding satisfaction for them….  Now, what will you say to him?  What will he say to you?

Ask, seek, knock.  The Lord honored his promise to Abraham.  Jesus, in his instruction to his disciples, uses the analogy of a parent and child.  None of us would give our own child a scorpion if he or she had asked for an egg.  Wouldn’t, then, our all-knowing gracious and loving heavenly Father give to us according to our needs – in accordance with his promise to us?  God wants only what is best for us.  He came to us in the human nature of Jesus Christ to affirm his covenant with us.

Persistent prayer is not repetitive asking; it is a process of moving from asking, to seeking, to knocking at the door that is opened to us.  Persistent prayer in not simply a listing of our wants, but a drawing closer into the fullness of God’s reign – the opening up of the Kingdom and our presence there beyond the opened door.

Be bold, be persistent to the point of recognizing your oneness with God, and don’t ever let anyone convince you that your particular prayer ritual is wrong.  My Aunt Lorraine, God rest her soul, always reminded us that she prayed for each one of us every night.  Some “wise theologians” would say that that is a useless “laundry list” of prayers.  I strongly disagree.  Aunt Lorraine could name all of her nieces and nephews, their spouses, and all our children.  I loved knowing that she lifted my name to God every night by her bedside.  There is a distinct warmth and closeness with those who pray for us and those for whom we pray.  We draw closer to one another in this way, and drawing closer to one another is drawing closer to God.

Prayer, like faith, doesn’t have a right or wrong way, it is not quality or quantity.  Just keep being faithful, and just keep praying.  And, if or when praying is difficult, we are blessed with our Book of Common Prayer, which we like to say prays for us when we cannot pray for ourselves.

Be bold – as Abraham was bold.  God can take it.  Certainly, God prefers our rants and ravings to our distant silence.

Be persistent – ask, seek, knock.

Be united as one with God.

Genesis 18:1-10a  Psalm 15   Colossians 1:15-28  Luke 10:38-42

At some time or another, at some point in our lives, a stranger has ministered to us in an unexpected way. A stranger, loving without fear has come to our aid, maybe even risked major inconvenience, or risked his or her life. Every day, strangers, prompted by their love for a fellow human being, become Good Samaritans. You may not even know the details of the parable we have just read, but you know the definition of a “Good Samaritan.”

What makes the Samaritan of our lesson unique and, thus, this parable so sensational? It is important to understand that Samaritans, during the time of Jesus, were enemy outcasts .

In the early centuries of the Divided Kingdom – Israel to the north and Judah to the south – Samaria had been the capital of Israel. Ahab, King of Israel, and Queen Jezebel had built their palace there – towers of ivory and gold-leaf ivory décor. But, King Ahab and, particularly, his foreign wife Jezebel had introduced pagan religion and idol worship.

Time passed and the people of Israel drew further and further away from God. In the 8th century BC, the Jews of Samaria were taken into exile by the Assyrians from the lands north and east of Samaria. The city was destroyed and the northern kingdom of Israel ceased to exist.

In the centuries that followed a mixture of colonists from the vast Assyrian Empire would resettle the lands that surrounded the original city, and the entire region would become known as Samaria. By the time of Jesus’ ministry, Herod the Great had rebuilt and renamed the city, and only a small number Jews of mixed descent were settled in the area. These Jewish descendants claimed to worship God, but they were considered half-caste and they were despised by the Jews of Judea to the south and Galilee to the north. Class-warfare and mutual hatred festered. Jews of Galilee and Judea and the Samaritans in between avoided one another’s territories for fear of their lives.

To prevent becoming defiled or attacked in the land of Samaria, a faithful Jew, making a pilgrimage from Galilee to Jerusalem, was forced to cross the Jordan River, travel down its eastward bank, and cross back over to its westward bank near Jerusalem, perhaps at Jericho, a safe distance from Samaria.

Jesus, however, made it a point to pass through Samaria and we could list a number of accounts of his ministry there.

So, with this background, we return to Luke’s account of the Parable of the Good Samaritan. A lawyer, one so concerned with strict adherence to the Law of God, asks the question of Jesus, “Who is my neighbor?” Jesus most often answers questions with other questions or with parables – He wants us to use our hearts and our brains to answer these questions for ourselves. And, so, this parable so loved and familiar to us serves as Jesus’ answer to the question, “Who is my neighbor?”

The scene of our parable is the road between Jerusalem and Jericho where Samaritans were undoubtedly unwelcome and great cause for suspicion. A man has been beaten and robbed and left to die in the road. For whatever their reasons or rationalizations, a priest and a man of the priestly tribe of the Levites pass by the dying man. In fact, according to Luke, they move to the other side of the road emphasizing their intention to pass him by.

Rather, it is the despised Samaritan who stops to bring aid. He not only foregoes his mission in foreign territory while recognizing the inherent danger of being there to start with, but also he binds the injured man’s wounds, brings him to a place where he can receive continued care, and provides for that care with his own finances.

Can you sense the extreme nature of the paradox here? The one most despised by God’s people becomes the one who has the clearest understanding of neighbor and love for neighbor. His understanding and willingness to honor this most basic of God’s laws surpasses the religious elite who are charged with disseminating this very law that is the basis of eternal life.

Jesus’ message is simple: Our neighbor is the one who is broken and bleeding in the ditch who needs our care. And, our neighbor is the feared despised outcast. Our neighbors are those beloved to us, those who need us and those we need. Our neighbors are those who might say they despise us and those we might say we despise. God created us to be in relationship with one another; our neighbor is everyone.

So, the message is simple but not simplistic: We are to love everyone – everyone -who is our neighbor, and we are to love without fear. We are not to be inhibited in reaching out to our neighbor by our self-righteousness or our fear of inconvenience or exploitation.

These followers of the law such as the lawyer, the priest, and the Levite in our parable felt that their position as keepers of the law held them on a higher level, above the bleeding and broken. How surprising it was for the lawyer to admit that it was indeed the Samaritan who was the most genuine keeper of the law. Do you notice that he cannot even say the word Samaritan? He responds to Jesus’ question, “The one who showed mercy.”

God’s laws are our guide for how we are to live in relationship with one another – neighbor caring for neighbor. Jesus came to show us how God’s law is our guide. Jesus came to show us that God’s law is not for our own self-serving interpretation, but to guide us in loving without fear – assisting one another in encountering Christ and receiving that assistance with the same graciousness and with sincere appreciation.

All of God’s Law is encompassed in his command “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself.” The Ten Commandments are more specific, but every guidepost leads back to loving God and loving our neighbor – loving our neighbor without fear.

Deuteronomy 30:9-14  Psalm 25:1-9  Colossians 1:1-14  Luke 10:25-37

One of my favorite courses of study as an undergraduate was human nutrition. I am fascinated with vitamins and minerals. By the time I graduated, I could name and even spell the deficiency diseases and describe the gruesome symptoms of kwashiorkor, beriberi, scurvy, and rickets.

The primary symptom of rickets is brittle bones indicating a deficiency of Vitamin D. Except, vitamin D is not actually a vitamin, because the body can synthesize vitamin D on its own as long as we are exposed to an adequate amount of direct sunlight. Or, like true vitamins, we can get vitamin D in our foods, particularly fortified milk, or from supplemental intake.

This correlation between vitamin D and sunlight was established when it was discovered that rickets is more common in higher latitudes where direct sunlight is less and less available. In fact, multiple sclerosis is more common at higher latitudes due to more vitamin D deficiency. And, even though we are at relatively low latitude here in the mid Atlantic, it is important that we make an intentional effort to absorb direct sunlight so that our bodies can manufacture the necessary amounts of vitamin D. Accomplishing this adequate absorption of vitamin D means being outside exposing a good percentage of our skin to the sun with no sunscreen – the darker your skin, the more exposure you need each day.

This is not to downplay the need for good judgment as it relates to the dangers of over-exposure to the sun and skin cancer. But, the truth is, even fair-skinned people, particularly the elderly, are advised to have ten minutes of direct exposure to the mid-day sun. Nursing infants are most susceptible to vitamin D deficiency because we are so careful to protect them from the direct sunlight and because breast milk doesn’t contain vitamin D. The less sun exposure, the more we must seek vitamin D in our foods or vitamin supplements.

So, why is all this information so important? What good is vitamin D? Only if our bodies have adequate amounts of Vitamin D can we absorb calcium and use that calcium efficiently. Without vitamin D, even the calcium supplements we take are relatively useless – rejected by our bodies, sometimes even harmful; AND, without the calcium intake from food or supplements, our vitamin D production is without a cause. Ninety-nine percent of the body’s calcium is in our bones and teeth. Calcium allows for the good health of our muscles, nerves or hormones, and even our hearts.

Well, now, you are not here for a nutrition lecture – that’s a bonus for today from my first career. What does all this have to do with our responsibilities in the kingdom of God? This is your purpose here, to find out more about your presence and your responsibilities in the Kingdom of God. The truth is, God uses our human relationships and even our human bodies to help us understand the kingdom and our responsibility as catalysts for others in every town and place to sense the nearness of the kingdom.

Our Gospel lesson has a rather somber tone in relation to our need to avail ourselves to this urgent message that Christ has for us – the message that the Kingdom of God is near. We know that; how will others know?

It seems that we have just gotten started following Jesus as he teaches his disciples and other followers, as he heals the sick and the sinful, as he shares the parables that help us visualize the Kingdom of God. Yet, we learned from our Gospel lesson last week that, already, Jesus has set his face to go to Jerusalem. Luke tells us of only one journey to Jerusalem in Jesus’ adult life; that journey culminates at the cross.

Jesus has set his face to go to Jerusalem, to suffer and die knowingly and willingly for the purpose of overcoming death – becoming the one perfect and holy sacrifice for our salvation.

So, you begin to understand the sense of urgency in Jesus’ calling of the seventy to go before him and prepare the way. There is little time for exchanging pleasantries of conversation. There is not time for packing provisions for comfort or for gathering financial resources that will cover the cost of the needs of the seventy along the road. In this way, the seventy are totally dependent upon God’s omnipotent presence – they must trust that the crises they encounter will rest in the hands of God as they are sent out to every town and place that Jesus himself intends to go. And, their single purpose is to prepare those they meet to encounter Jesus.

When they are welcomed – when those they meet share in the peace they bring, the missioners are to accept the hospitality graciously. Being received graciously allows for the healing of the sick – the sick in body and spirit. To these who welcome them, they are to share the urgent message, “The kingdom of God has come near to you.”

On the other hand, when they are rejected, they are to leave the unwelcoming community with these words, “Even the dust of the town that clings to our feet, we wipe off in protest against you. Yet know this: the kingdom of God has come near.”

Jesus says to the seventy, “’Whoever listens to you listens to me. Whoever rejects you, rejects me, and whoever rejects me rejects the one who sent me.’”

We and those we encounter can receive this love just as we do the sunshine, and through it experience the nearness of the Kingdom of God. Or, we and they can turn away from the sunshine and suffer the gruesome and painful symptoms of spiritual deficiency.

The message is urgent: The Kingdom of God is near. As the Body of Christ – as we continue the ministry of the seventy – we are to be the Vitamin D that is the catalyst through whom the spiritually deficient hear the message of the Kingdom; we continue the missions of the seventy – preparing and making it possible for others to receive the message. Like the seventy, like the Vitamin D with the single purpose of preparing our body to utilize the calcium, our single purpose is to prepare others to encounter Jesus – to bring others into the sunshine of his love – to bring others into the experience of the nearness of the Kingdom of God.

The Kingdom of God is near. The message waits in silence unless we pick up our cross and walk along with Jesus; the message waits in silence unless we bravely carry it into world where we may or may not be received; the message waits in silence unless we accept our role as the catalyst that nurtures the message – the sunshine, the Vitamin D that makes it possible for our bodies to utilize the calcium for our health and well-being.

Are we to be the catalyst of the message of the nearness of the Kingdom; or will we languish in spiritual deficiency as others around us do the same? The message is urgent; the Kingdom of God is near.

1 Kings 19:15-16,19-21  Psalm 16  Galatians 5:1,13-25  Luke 9:51-62

I find myself being reminded frequently that there are many passages of scripture that we are not to “pick to pieces.” Our Gospel lesson is one of those. Is Jesus telling us that we are not to attend to our loved ones who are dying; we are not to take time to say our farewells to those we may never see again? I don’t think so, and most commentators agree. God created us in relationship and he expects us to serve him in and through one another.

In this case, perhaps Jesus is simply and rightfully calling our bluff on our rationalizations and procrastinations that inhibit us in answering our call to ministry. We are not to be distracted by rituals, even religious rituals, that stand in the way of true discipleship.

Definitely and more importantly, Jesus is being brutally honest about the cost of following him. Being a disciple of Christ is about miraculous healing and the salvation of sinners, but those are not window dressings; experiencing true healing and salvation in this world comes only at the cost of following Jesus to the Cross. We all have a call to ministry. God grants us the freedom to reject our call as did these Samaritans who rejected Jesus in our lesson. Jesus came to live and die as one of us; he wanted to be certain we knew that in accepting his call we accepted the true cost of discipleship.

It seems we’ve barely begun our Year C walk through Luke’s Gospel – Jesus’ birth, baptism, and ministry. In today’s lesson, Jesus is carrying out his ministry in this northern area of Galilee where he was reared as the carpenter’s son and where his ministry began. As we have read over the past number of weeks, he has restored life to marginalized Gentile non-believers; he has brought salvation to the sinful; and he has cast out the legion of demons from one so utterly possessed by them.

But, already, so early in his ministry, our Gospel lesson tells us that Jesus has “set his face to go to Jerusalem.” Jesus knows that the days are drawing near when his ministry of healing the physically and spiritually sick and the calling of disciples to share that ministry will culminate in his being taken up in Jerusalem – taken up on the Cross, taken up from the grave, taken up into heaven 40 days later as he ascends to be with the Father. Already, Jesus has begun to warn his disciples of the journey to which he is called and the hardships that will beset them. From the start, Jesus wants us to know that following him means following him to Jerusalem – life lived under the shadow of the Cross. True discipleship is not cheap.

Jesus gives us the freedom to reject him or to fall in step with him on the journey to Jerusalem. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the great Lutheran theologian and martyr, tells us that the “cross is laid on every Christian;” and our first call is to “abandon the attachments of this world.”[1] Bonhoeffer offers the analogy of the small child who is sent to bed by his father. The child, in his own “wisdom,” presumes that his father sends him to bed because he is tired and the father doesn’t want him to be tired. However, the child rationalizes, he can overcome his tiredness just as well by going out to play rather than to sleep. Thus, he determines that he will go out to play and, in so doing, better fulfill his father’s desires for his wellbeing.[2] We laugh at this childish conjecture, but we too often do the similar thing in response to God’s commands for our calls to ministry and mission. So often, we second guess God; we rationalize a call that meets our own comfort level rather than Jesus’.

It is our single-minded encounter with Christ that brings about the death of these old selves that are fueled by rationalization and procrastination and attachments to this world. The Apostle Paul alludes to our old selves in speaking of our yoke of slavery to the desires of the flesh – our shallow worldly obsessions and distractions. And, our going down and our being taken up out of the waters of baptism speak of the death of our old selves. In the prayer of Thanksgiving over the Water, we thank God for the water of baptism in which “we are buried with Christ in his death. By it we share in his resurrection. Through it we are reborn by the Holy Spirit.” [BCP 306]

Regarding this cost of discipleship, Dietrich Bonhoeffer goes on to say,

Thus it begins; the cross is not the terrible end to an otherwise godfearing and happy life, but it meets us at the beginning of our communion with Christ. When Christ calls (us), he bids (us) come and die. It may be a death like that of the first disciples who had to leave home and work to follow him or it may be a death like (Martin) Luther’s, who had to leave the monastery and go out into the world. But it is the same death every time – death in Jesus Christ.[3]

Bonhoeffer is speaking of the death of our old selves, the death of our need for the shallow worldly powers and comforts that distract our single-minded focus on Christ Jesus our Lord.

United with Jesus, we set our face to go to Jerusalem. It is not an easy road; even the original disciples who shared Jesus’ physical presence did not find it easy; they stumbled and bumbled in spite of Jesus’ tireless efforts to prepare them.

United with Christ and one another, we come together in Holy Communion. So graciously, as we come to the Table, Jesus offers himself for us and to us. So graciously, as we come to the Table, he prepares us for the road to Jerusalem. So graciously, as we come to the Table, he guides our focus away from our worldly cares, toward trust in him. And, then, we pray the prayer of thanksgiving; the Rite II prayer expresses it most clearly, asking of our heavenly Father: “grant us strength and courage to love and serve you with gladness and singleness of heart.” [BCP p. 365] Gladness and singleness of heart – our face set on Jesus and the road to Jerusalem – without looking back, without succumbing to worldly distractions and rationalizations and attachments.

We read in our Old Testament lesson of Elijah casting his mantle on Elisha who will take his place among the great prophets. Later in the narrative, Elijah will be taken up into heaven in a chariot of fire. Perhaps our being taken up will not be with the earthly fanfare and whirlwind of Elijah’s horse-drawn chariot of fire, but it will be equally sensational for each of us.

Jesus will know us and we will know him, because, together we have journeyed to Jerusalem.

Isaiah 65:1-9  Psalm 22:18-27  Galatians 3:23-29  Luke 8:26-39

There is a movie entitled Luther, produced in 2003 that encompasses the reform efforts of Martin Luther in 16th century Germany. Luther became one of the most famous Protestant reformers. The truth is, as a faithful monk of the Church of Rome, Luther’s intent was to push for reform of the Church of Rome rather than separate from it, thus, beginning a new course for his faith. Once excommunicated for his “radical” interpretation of the scripture, however, the seeds of Lutheranism were planted.

So, in this 2003 movie, there is one very poignant scene in which Martin asks an elder monk who is his mentor, “Have you ever dared to think that God is not just?” Martin continues, “He has us born tainted by sin, then He’s angry with us all our lives for our faults, this righteous Judge who damns us, threatening us with the fires of hell!”

After some thought, the mentor asks, “Martin, what is it you seek?”

Martin responds, “A merciful God! A God whom I can love. A God who loves me.”

Our Gospel lesson is an account of Jesus’ encounter with a man possessed by demons – a man that was surely considered tainted by sin and separated from the love of God – separated by the demons, not one demon, but legions of demons, who had cast him into the ultimate outer darkness. We know this man we call the Gerasene demoniac was in a land foreign to him; our lesson tells us that he was from the city and that he now dwelled in a place “opposite” Galilee. We know that he represented the epitome of uncleanness; he was naked and lived among the dead. We are told that he lived in close proximity to pigs, creatures most despised by traditional Jewish culture. Thus, the Gerasene demoniac represents for us the ultimate outcast – foreign, naked, unclean, despised – and possessed by legions of demons.

Interesting, isn’t it, that the demons possessing this frightful man caused him to fall down immediately before Jesus and shout to the top of his voice, “What have you to do with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God?” The scriptures tell us of very few “healthy” individuals who fall down before Jesus and address him so boldly as the “Son of the Most High God.” Even most of those who believed Jesus to be the Lord were too fearful to display this faith so publicly.

But, the demons and evil spirits about which we read in the scriptures always recognize their greatest adversary. They are savvy to know their competition; they must be savvy if they ever expect to overcome that competition – their survival depends upon remaining in a position of most effective offense. Interesting, isn’t it, that these demons recognize Jesus’ power far better than we do? Isn’t that how they win us over and take possession of us as they did the Gerasene demoniac?

The demons that possess us, like the demons that possess the Gerasene, are relentless in their efforts to fight off the good that would send them back to the abyss. These demons are the “little voices” that speak in our heads drowning out God’s message that we are all ministers of the Gospel; they convince us we are inadequate in our efforts to be the Body of Christ – to be the Church serving in the name of Jesus Christ to all the world. The demons that possess us are in our anxiety over our finances, or our health, or our fractured relationships with others – anxiety that robs us of peaceful rest and clarity in discernment.

And, like these demons that possess the Gerasene, our demons know well their competition. They know how to entice us into complacency in our worship and daily prayers, to convince us to be indifferent toward the neighbor or family member who is suffering, to ensnare us into the comforts of selfish thinking. Above all, the demons are skilled in driving wedges that separate us from God, rendering us unable to believe with all our heart and mind that God wants only what is best for us. The demons that possess us seek to tear away bit by bit from that image of God about whom Martin Luther speaks – a merciful God – a God whom we can love – A God who loves each of us.

Our psalm speaks of the lion’s mouth and the horns of wild bulls. Most of us have not experienced the lion’s mouth or the horns of wild bulls in the literal sense, but at one time or another in our lives, demons have mauled us with the teeth of lions and gored us with the horns of bulls. And, we have begged liked the psalmist for the Lord’s salvation from these demons.

The Gerasene demoniac is the ultimate outcast, possessed by legions of demons. Yet, the demonic powers that possess him are no match for Jesus, the Son of the Most High God. Even the demons are well aware that they have encountered a power like no other power – a power far-surpassing their power – a power to save, a power to heal. Jesus speaks healing and salvation to this outcast in the country of the Gerasenes.

In most cases the Greek language in which the New Testament is written is more descriptive than our English language. There are words in the Greek for which we have no literal translations. For instance, the Greeks have a number of different words to describe the different aspects of love where we have only one word for love – a word that is overused and under-appreciated.

There is only one word in the Greek, however, that expresses healing and salvation. Where we have two words: “heal” and “save,” Luke uses the one word, σοζο, which expresses both at the same time. Thus, to be healed by Jesus Christ as this demoniac was healed is to be saved. Σοζο may or may not include our earthly physical healing; we are human after all. But, this healing encompasses all that is our spiritual healing – our salvation. There is only one word; the meaning is the same. Through the grace of Jesus Christ, we are healed of our demons and saved by faith. And, through the gift of this grace, we know that God is a God we can love and a God that loves us and wants only the best for us.

Martin Luther took the words of the Apostle Paul’s letter to the Galatians, which we read earlier, and marched forth into the 16th century Protestant Reformation. His message, for which he was excommunicated from the Church of Rome, is just as vital and relevant today as it was for Martin Luther in the 16th century and just as it was for the 1st century Galatians receiving Paul’s letter: Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection have inaugurated the new age in which we are justified by grace through our faith in Christ. Yes, God’s judgment is real, but we are not to think of God as a God who demands that we earn our way into heaven, an angry God who focuses on our faults and dwells on punishment. As God’s law guided the descendants of Abraham prior to the birth of Christ, faith in the risen Christ now guides our right relationship with God and our neighbor. God’s laws have not changed, but we see them more clearly as our guide rather than as a catalyst for punishment.

In our Old Testament lesson we read the words of the prophet Isaiah who speaks the voice of God as he says to us, “Here I am, here I am… I hold out my hands all day long…”

God does not separate himself from us. It is we who allow the legions of demons to implant doubts, ignite our anxieties, and construct pitfalls in our path. Our God wants only what is best for us – σοζο – healing salvation. He wants us to know that he loves us, that he is a God we can love, and that we are healed by his grace.

Fathers, today is your day. This is the day we honor you; this is the day you reflect on the blessings and enormous responsibilities of fatherhood. God the Father is your model. God’s judgment is real, as a father’s compassionate discipline is necessarily real. God the Father wants only what is best for his children; so it is with our earthly fathers. Our earthly fathers know that we must suffer the consequences of our poor judgment and that we must learn from our mistakes.

It is the responsibility of our earthly fathers to bring us into the understanding of what it is to be loved unconditionally – as we are loved unconditionally by our heavenly Father. Our Heavenly Father wants us to know that he loves us, that he is a God we can love, and that we are healed by his grace.

2 Samuel 11:26-12:10,13-15  Psalm 32  Galatians 2:15-21  Luke 7:36-8:3

The god of Simon the Pharisee is a god who cannot endure sinners. Simon’s god has been boxed into a strict earthly purity code. Simon’s god apparently approves only of those that Simon approves.

Jesus enters the house of Simon the Pharisee. The absence of welcome is quite present. Hospitality norms dictated that a visitor entering the home from the hot dusty streets would have his head anointed with oil and be offered a bowl of cool water and a towel to wash and dry his bare blistered feet. We know Jesus is travel weary; we have read of his journeys from city to city healing the sick and restoring life in our lessons from Luke’s Gospel over the past several Sundays. As Jesus enters the home of Simon, Simon offers no such comforts; and it is clear that Jesus should not expect to be received or encouraged to linger, as would others of Simon’s social and religious status.
As if the setting was not uncomfortable enough already, in ultimate outrage, Simon observes a woman of the city well known for her sinfulness as she slips into his home and stands behind Jesus, then, apparently drops to her hands and knees at Jesus’ feet – “child’s pose” in Yoga language. Overcome by humility and gratitude, the woman is weeping. She loosens her hair – a disgraceful act for a woman in the presence of strange men; and she breaks open the alabaster jar of healing ointment.

Thus, in profound contrast to Simon’s lack of the bare basics of welcome, this lowly sinful woman pours out her soul as she pours out the soothing oil on Jesus’ feet, bathing his feet with her tears, and drying them with her loosened hair – a gesture of extravagant love. It is a gift of grace, and in this moment, this desperate woman exemplifies and experiences for herself the gift of God’s extravagant love. Is it the love that brought the forgiveness or the forgiveness that brought the love?

As an aside, if you look closely at these verses of scripture, you find no confirmation that this woman was a prostitute. And, quite coincidentally perhaps, it is in the next chapter that Mary Magdalene is named. Very unfairly, the early Church surmised the sin and the sinner to be Mary Magdalene, the prostitute. Searching the web for a depiction of Mary of Magdala, you will find quite alluring, if not pornographic, portraits of a voluptuously exposed woman with exceedingly long and thick curly red hair.
Whether the women are the same or two different, both exemplify God’s gift of extravagant love, both humbly and gratefully and equally received God’s immeasurable gift of forgiveness for their great debt of sinfulness.
Similarly, the great King David is brought low in the presence of God as he humbly acknowledges his sinfulness in the orchestration of the death of his loyal soldier Uriah. In an incredible feat of desperation, David orchestrated this death for the purpose of covering his illicit affair with Bathsheba, named in our Old Testament lesson from 1st Samuel only as “the wife of Uriah.” The prophet Nathan shocks David back into reality with his parable; David recognizes his sin, unforgiveable in the eyes of humans, only quenched by the extravagant grace of God, God’s extravagant and freely given gift of unsurpassed love.

The child born of this affair would die; later Bathsheba would again conceive, and this child would be named Solomon; he would grow into the great King Solomon who would build The Great Temple and be remembered for his humility and wisdom. There is no evil that God does not overcome in his time on his terms with his extravagant love.

This extravagant love cannot be earned. It is clear that David did not earn God’s love through his despicable acts of adultery and murder. Like the woman weeping at the feet of Jesus, was it the love that brought the forgiveness or the forgiveness that brought the love?

God created all that is, all that has been, all that will be; God created all in love. God wants only what is best for us, not because we have earned it. God wants only what is best for us just as others who love us want only what is best for us. We don’t reinvent love each time someone comes into our lives in whom we recognize great love.
God’s extravagant love is his grace-filled gift; we but have to open our arms and hearts to that extravagant love. That love bathes us in forgiveness and challenges us to spread that love and forgiveness. God came to earth in the human person of the Son, Jesus Christ, to show us how to love. If you have loved and been loved, you know that there is no human law or human word that can legislate or initiate love or even describe love adequately. You have to feel it, and all that you feel of love comes from God. If you do not believe in God, you do not believe in love. God is love; love is God.

In his letter to the Christians in Galatia, the Apostle Paul expresses God’s grace – this indescribable immeasurable extravagant love. Paul writes, “We have come to believe in Christ Jesus, so that we might be justified by faith in Christ,” justified by faith alone, Paul would say, “and not by doing the works of the law, because no one will be justified by the works of the law.” Paul reminds the Galatians they cannot earn their way to heaven through earthly means. Salvation/justification comes by grace through our faith in Jesus Christ.

These words in Galatians were the words that sparked the Reformation, dividing Christians from the 16th century until today into a variety of faith traditions throughout the world over this question of the relationship of faith and works and our misinterpretations of works’ righteousness and God’s “law.”

The god of Simon the Pharisee is a god who cannot endure sinners who do not abide by Simon’s strict interpretation of the law – those who, for Simon, must earn God’s love. Simon’s god has been boxed into a strict earthly purity code that condemns the sinner on earthly terms and grants love and forgiveness only to those who earn it. Simon’s image of God is a god who approves only of those that Simon approves.

Our image of God creates us. Is your god a god who is limited by earthly expectations – a demanding god who cannot endure sinners? Or, is your god a god of extravagant love – God who bathes us with the healing oil of forgiveness of our sins? And, is it this extravagant love that brings about our forgiveness or is it the forgiveness that brings us to our knees in the realization of the extravagant gift of love?

1 Kings 17:17-24  Psalm 30   Galatians 1:11-24  Luke 7:11-17

In our Old Testament lesson from 1st Kings, the great prophet Elijah has been sent by God into enemy territory – the homeland of King Ahab and Queen Jezebel, who desire Elijah’s death. Prior to this portion of the lesson we read, there is drought in the land for which Elijah as a representative of God is blamed. Elijah, near death from starvation himself, seeks out the widow of Zarephath to share the tiny bit of food she has left. In faith and profound hospitality, the widow shares with the stranger Elijah and finds that her jar of meal and jug of oil are miraculously continuously refilled.

Yet, sadly, as the story plays out, the son of the widow of Zarepath dies; this son is the widow’s only hope for provision in this harsh landscape; again Elijah is blamed. But, through Elijah’s obedience to God coupled with his unquestionable trust, the life of the widow’s son is restored.

The two scenes illustrate the cooperative efforts of two unlikely companions in faith – a man of God whose life is under siege by ruthless enemies and physical scarcity; and a widow, unable to provide for herself in this ancient society, her fate held in the hands of neighbors who may or may not have the compassion to reach out to her. For Elijah, the widow is the “other,” and for the widow, Elijah is the “other.” Yet, in the acceptance of each one for the other, God makes his presence known in miraculous ways. The jar of meal and the jug of oil do not fail to provide.

Similarly, Jesus reaches out to a widow, restoring the life of her only son. As in the time of Elijah, a widow in first century Israel was among the most disadvantaged socially and economically. The death of her only son further compromised her ability to survive as a marginalized member of society.

Jesus had nothing to gain by acting on the widow’s behalf, in fact he subjected himself to the disapproval of the religious leaders who would condemn him for reaching beneath his societal status and declare him ritually unclean for coming in contact with the dead body of this young man. Jesus’ actions demonstrated a new understanding of God’s mercy – mercy that extended beyond the boundaries of the old law and societal norms – mercy based on the greater good of compassion – mercy that was intended for all – mercy intended for the “other.” Jesus died on the Cross because he took his mission to the “other”; Jesus is vindicated in the Resurrection, which is the confirmation of God’s mercy for “the other.”

And, it is a situation of complications with the “other” that has riled the Apostle Paul as illustrated in his letter addressed to the people of Galatia. The majority of Paul’s letters begin with thanksgiving and expressions of joy for the faith expressed by his previous companions on his journeys. Not so, in this letter to the Galatians; Paul is abrupt, obviously angry, even rude.

Paul journeyed through the area of Galatia on the first three of his missionary journeys. By the time of his letter, the house churches he had inspired have begun to spring up and thrive within communities of Gentile believers. Interestingly, Paul’s anger is likely directed toward the Judaizers – Paul’s fellow Jews – Jews who insisted that non-Jews first convert to the strict religious requirements of Judaism before they could be accepted among the believers and followers of Jesus Christ. Apparently, these Judaizers had traveled the areas of Galatia intervening and disrupting the spiritual health. Perhaps they were putting their own spin on the Good News brought previously to Galatia by Paul as he was guided by God through the communities of this region. We don’t doubt their faith and sincerity; perhaps they feared that Paul had set the standards too low, receiving those on the fringes, making acceptance into the Church too easy.

The Judaizers preached the requirement of human initiation rites as prerequisite for inclusion in the Body of Christ; Paul preached salvation by grace through faith in Jesus Christ as the sole requirement for inclusion in the Body of Christ. The Judizers sought to enforce standards that separated them from the “other” – those they considered to be outsiders dependent upon them to find their way as God’s people.

Paul, on the other hand, emphasized God’s gift of salvation free to all who believe – free to all, free even to those outside the previously established earthly norms and barriers. Paul argued that he did not receive a gospel that was reconfigured to suit human earthly desires; Paul affirmed that the gospel he proclaimed was revealed to him by Jesus Christ himself.

The Apostle Paul, through his mission and ministry of Christ, reminds us that the Church is intended to be stretched to the margins. The Church is intended to be constantly going to the edges; we, the Church, are to make known the Word of Christ to those who make us uncomfortable with our selves. Here, we find our fullness in Jesus Christ.[1]

How appropriate that we are reminded of the intention that we be stretched to receive those on the edge during this seemingly endless political season. Somehow we have always been quite crafty at compartmentalizing our political activities. We can throw eggs and hurl nasty insults and verbally attack our neighbor’s character, feeling quite justified and remorseless.

Jesus’ only criticism was of those groups who felt justified in raising themselves up while seeking to exclude others from God’s gift of eternal grace. As people of God we share the common ground of Jesus Christ; this is where we begin; this is where we return; again and again, we come together to the common ground of Jesus Christ. With lowered voices and open hearts, embracing the “other,” we come to the fullness of Jesus Christ.

In the fullness of Jesus Christ, embracing the “other,” our jar of meal will not be emptied and our jug of oil will not fail until the day that the Lord reigns on the earth.

Acts 16:9-15  Psalm 67 Revelation 21:10, 22-22:5 John 5:1-9

For thirty-eight years, the unnamed “sick man” of our Gospel lesson had been seeking healing; for a “long time” he had been lying by the pool by the Sheep Gate in Jerusalem. Our lesson tells us that he was too weak to drag his frail body through the encroaching crowds. Angels would occasionally stir up the waters and just at this time it was necessary to be the first to make one’s way into the healing waters and, thus, receive the mystical healing power – impossible for one so weak with illness. This pool was a vessel of healing, but it remained inaccessible to one who could not get into the waters on his own strength, and there was no one to help.

Quite unexpectedly, the sick man heard the voice of one whose attention he had attracted. “Do you want to be made well?” What must have seemed to be a chance encounter with an amazing stranger had suddenly turned his life right side up. “Stand up,” the stranger said to the sick man, “take your mat and walk.” The man picked up his mat and walked away, healed by virtue of his faith in the words of an unknown stranger – there was no touch, no healing waters, just Jesus’ command, and the man’s faith. In what had seemed to be a chance encounter, God had been revealed in the human person of Jesus of Nazareth – the true vessel through whom God is revealed to all the world.

In our lesson from Acts, we read of what seems to be another chance encounter between the Apostle Paul and Lydia. Lydia is a follower of Christ about whom we know very little with the exception of this brief mention of this encounter with the Apostle Paul who, in a dream, had been compelled to travel to Macedonia. We hear of Lydia only in these few verses from Acts 16 and later when she again opens her home to Paul after he is released from prison, yet she is often depicted in religious paintings and stained glass. Lydia, the seller of purple, symbolizes the hospitality of the open heart of a worshiper of God, listening intently for the word.

Lydia was not the typical worshiper of God or typical citizen of first century Macedonia. From this brief description in Acts 16, we know that she was female – not a plus in this society. However, she had her own business – a rare position for a woman of this time and place. And, not only a business, but obviously, an upscale business; purple was reserved for the elite of society and particularly royalty – these members of high society would be Lydia’s customers with whom she interacted throughout the day.

Furthermore, from this small amount of information, we perceive that Lydia, at some point in her past life, had left the protection of home and family in Thyatira located in Asia Minor, and that she would have travelled quite a distance for this seemingly chance encounter with Paul in the Roman colony of Philippi in the district of Macedonia.

Our lesson tells us that the “Lord opened [Lydia’s] heart to listen eagerly to what was said by Paul” – the word of God that Paul brought to Macedonia, as he had been instructed in his vision – carrying the words and works Jesus Christ to the world – the words and works of Jesus Christ, which were and are the revelation of God to the world. Lydia listened to these words of revelation; she became perhaps the very first convert to the word of Christ in, what is today, Eastern Europe. She and her household were baptized. Lydia, seller of purple among the elite of Philippi, became the vessel for the revelation of God on this new horizon of the known world. And, she invited the bearers of the word into her home just as she had invited the Father and Son and make their home in her heart.

This “chance” encounter with the Apostle Paul was indeed no chance encounter – just as the encounter between the unknown sick man and Jesus at the pool by the Sheep Gate had been no chance encounter. Ordained by God, both lives and hearts were opened to the revelation of God through Jesus Christ.

What seems to be chance encounters are incidences of God’s miraculous hand at work in our lives and those touched by our contact. Unlike the original disciples who gave up their livelihoods and left their families, few of us are asked to do that. Even the Apostle Paul continued his tent making as he journeyed through Galatia and Philippi, and Corinth. He used his skill to provide for his needs and he used his skill as an introduction into the lives of those he encountered on his journeys. As we read in today’s lesson from Acts, Lydia didn’t give up her trade as the seller of purple. Actually, it was her trade specifically that allowed her entry into the lives of those to whom God had called her to be a vessel of the Word of Jesus Christ.

Each and every one of us is a vessel. Each one of us gathered here has a story to tell, a message to share. Few of us are asked to give up our livelihoods and leave our families behind to go into world spreading the Gospel, but every one of us is commanded to be a vessel.

Are there anxieties, resentments, fear, anger, uncertainties, or other distractions that are clogging your vessel – keeping it from flowing freely?

In what ways is your vessel flowing as it should? How are you a vessel – at school, at work, in your civic activities, at the grocery store, or on the fishing pier? How are you a vessel serving Jesus Christ is the world through the Church of the Advent? We do not serve the Church – we are the Church serving the world in the name of Jesus Christ. How and where are you a vessel just as Lydia, seller of purple, was a vessel? One with Christ, how are you the vessel that God is calling you to be? Do you want to be made well?

We celebrate our oneness with Christ as we come together to the Table to share his body and blood. Here, through the work of the Holy Spirit, we become living members of the Body of Christ – vessels through whom the Word of God will be carried into the world. And, WE, the Body of Christ, loving, listening, offering hospitality, and keeping his word, go forth in His name, vessels of the peace of Christ in a broken world.

Acts 11:1-18 Psalm 148 Revelation 21:1-6 John 13:31-35

As described in John’s Gospel account of the Crucifixion, as Jesus was dying on the cross, his last words were, “It is finished.” We might interpret these words to mean, “It is over, done, ended, forecast is doom and gloom.”

When we step back, however, reading more closely Jesus’ words to his disciples in the hours before he would go to the cross, we begin to better understand, “It is finished” to mean more accurately, “It is complete; it is perfected.”

If Michelangelo stood gazing up at the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel and spoke the words, “It is finished,” his meaning would not be indicating an ending but a beginning. “It is finished.” [Though it is well-known to have been quite a miserable four-year experience for the artist] But rather, his statement would mean for us, “My work is completed, with God’s help it is perfected to the best of my ability;” generations going forward will be inspired and enlightened by this magnificent work of art.

Understanding that Jesus’ death and resurrection completed our salvation causes us to look more closely at the words we read from our Gospel lesson for this 5th Sunday of Easter. These words from our Gospel lesson are a portion of Jesus’ last discourse – a discourse that consumes four full chapters of John’s Gospel – chapters that preceded the account of the Crucifixion and Resurrection. Jesus is speaking to his followers, trying as best he can to prepare them for the horrific events that are to come, planting seeds of insight that would be nurtured and understood as the events unfold, planting seeds of insight that would guide them in the days when Jesus would no longer be physically present with them, and it would be up to these first followers to see that the seeds of the Good News would be spread throughout all the world.

Jesus spoke to his followers of the New Commandment – a new understanding of what it is to be the people of God – a new way of understanding that the Crucifixion was not an ending, but a beginning.

Certainly, Jesus’ command that we love one another is not a “new” commandment for us, for the disciples to whom Jesus is speaking, or for the audience to whom John is writing.

Our lesson in John follows the departure of Judas into the night for the purpose of betraying Jesus to the authorities who would arrest, convict, and crucify him. Just prior to Judas’ departure, in the essence of ultimate humility and servanthood, Jesus had bathed the feet of the disciples as they gathered in this upper room where they shared their last meal together.
Jesus’ time for instruction of his disciples was coming to a close; these are among his last words to his followers during the last hours of their time together. There are no parables or allegories to tease their understanding of his message. This setting creates the paradox of Jesus’ words. And, Jesus gets right to the point.

How odd that Jesus would speak of the Son of Man being glorified and God being glorified in him. This gloomy setting would seem to be the opposite of glorification. Yet, without question, Jesus is speaking of the fulfillment of God’s work through him, fulfillment that would come in the next hours and days.

God would be glorified. The horrors of the darkness of this night were just beginning. But, the evil darkness would be overcome by Jesus’ Resurrection on the third day, and the truth of Jesus Christ as the Messiah would be illumined for all the world to see and believe. God would be glorified.

Jesus exemplified humility and servanthood in the washing of his disciples’ feet – even the feet of Judas. Now, Judas had departed to commit his evil deed. Jesus knew of the physical, emotional, and spiritual torment that he was to face and, yet, he spoke of love, forgiveness, and peace as he went forth willingly to the cross.

These last hours are most sacred and intimate for Jesus and his followers. His address, “little children,” emphasizes the intimacy.

Certainly, Jesus’ command to love one another is not new, but the background and the circumstances of this intimate setting broadens and clarifies the meaning of loving one another in a way that challenges the disciples – in a way that challenges all of us – to love beyond the limits of our fears, beyond our surface understanding of love, beyond our preconceived opinions of one another.

Jesus demonstrates the servanthood of love.

In our lesson from Acts, the seeds of understanding the new commandment of love beyond fear are beginning to sprout for Peter. In this mysterious rather bazaar dream, Peter is the first perhaps to experience this new understanding. For Peter, God’s people were those of the Jewish faith, circumcised believers, children of Abraham. Anyone outside the faith was a condemned sinner, outcast, not worthy or even capable of receiving and understanding the Word of God.

This dream, about which we read in our lesson from Acts, changes that interpretation of God’s plan for all creation. Peter, prior to this time had been criticized for his violation of the strict dietary laws of his Jewish faith. In his dream, he is assured of the cleanliness of all foods, kosher or otherwise. In interpreting the dream, Peter comes to see that the message doesn’t really apply only to food for human consumption and dietary laws so strictly enforced; the message applies to people. All people – men/women; Jew/Gentile/Greek/Roman; young/old; black/brown/white; familiar/foreign – all people are to be the recipients of the spread of the seeds of the Good News. “God has given even to the Gentiles the repentance that leads to life.”

The ministry of Jesus Christ was not “ended” on the cross; it was “perfected.” Now, it would be up to his followers to carry that message of perfection to the world – to carry that new understanding of the new commandment – a clarified understanding through the mission and ministry of Christ – a new commandment of just how we are to love one another – loving beyond our fears, loving beyond our prejudices.

Love is loving others more than our earthly selves – accepting, embracing, forgiving, upholding, loving each other even when we are so hard to love. In love, the glory of God is fulfilled as our lives, our community, and our relationships are centered in Christ. In these last hours, Christ breathed peace into his disciples. The peace of his love overcame the betrayal and the denials. The peace of his love overcomes our betrayals and denials.

Listen again to the words of Jesus – words among the last that he would speak to his disciples before being condemned to death on the cross, “Little children, I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. I have loved you in order that you also love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” Thus, Jesus’ time on earth was finished, completed, perfected.

Through the servanthood of love beyond fear, in peace and forgiveness, everyone will know that we are disciples of Jesus Christ.