Tag Archives: suffering

Preaching, Sermons

Easter Mystery: Where’s the BODY?!! – Luke 24:1-12

**sermon art: Women at the Tomb by Graham Braddock

Pastor Caitlin Trussell with Augustana Lutheran Church (Denver) on April 20, 2025

[sermon begins after the Bible reading]

Luke 24:1-12  On the first day of the week, at early dawn, [the women] came to the tomb, taking the spices that they had prepared. 2 They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, 3 but when they went in, they did not find the body. 4 While they were perplexed about this, suddenly two men in dazzling clothes stood beside them. 5 The women were terrified and bowed their faces to the ground, but the men said to them, “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen. 6 Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, 7 that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day rise again.” 8 Then they remembered his words, 9 and returning from the tomb, they told all this to the eleven and to all the rest. 10 Now it was Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women with them who told this to the apostles. 11 But these words seemed to them an idle tale, and they did not believe them. 12 But Peter got up and ran to the tomb; stooping and looking in, he saw the linen cloths by themselves; then he went home, amazed at what had happened.

[sermon begins]

Where’s the BODY?! Jesus’ BODY? Did someone take Jesus? Where did they put him?  Is any BODY there?! The perplexed women—Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary mother of James and the others—saw so much as part of Jesus’ ministry, especially in those last few days. They watched Jesus be put to death on a cross by politically and religiously powerful people. They watched Joseph of Arimathea take Jesus off the cross and put him in the tomb. They packed spices and ointments with which they’d return after resting on the Sabbath “according to the commandment.”[1]

The women were faithful, courageous, and diligent through the previous days of tragedy, confusion, and grief. When so many disciples fled, or otherwise fell apart, these women stayed and saw it all. But the BODY is gone! There was no BODY to see. No BODY to tend. They had seen Jesus’ body laid in the tomb, so they were ready to anoint his body with oil and spices, to say thank you for his life, and to say a loving goodbye after his death. Instead, they encounter a couple of razzle dazzle dudes of the divine kind. The women react to their dazzling divinity by bowing their faces to the ground.

Although, what the two dazzling men do next is fairly ordinary. They remind the women what Jesus taught them when he was alive. And what he taught them fits with what they saw him go through on the cross. The women saw ungodly violence and sifted their experiences through what Jesus said before he died, and through what the two dazzling dudes in the tomb are saying now. Their reminder makes sense of things. That’s way this works. We hear something that gives our experience a new or different meaning—not explaining the grief away or making heinous suffering magically better—but gleaning from suffering and grief in a way that feels like a gift.

This gift of gleaning is no small thing. The Dalai Lama of Tibetan Buddhism and Desmond Tutu of Anglican Christianity reflected together on joy and suffering from their respective traditions.[2] These two wizened elders talked about living in deep joy even though we experience suffering. Neither they, nor any of us here, must go very far personally or culturally to find tragedy, confusion, and grief. From personal illness to the death of a loved one, to international genocide, to innocent immigrants deported to horrific prisons, to queer youth vilified or worse, to whatever you’d like to add to the list, we totally get tragedy and grief. We get it deep in our gut, in our heartache, in our BODY.

Our bodies just aren’t designed to hold it all. Our bodies are designed to hold a village-worth of news, not a world’s worth of news. It’s tempting to numb our suffering in the sizzle-and-fizzle dopamine cycle of food, alcohol, or doom-scrolling as we try to make our bodies feel better. The problem with the sizzle-and-fizzle strategy is that we humans tend to put those behaviors on repeat. We entomb ourselves in the things that bring temporary relief. Tombs of our own making that wound our bodies, isolate us from each other, and steal our joy.

Living in deep joy while we experience suffering SOUNDS nice. Actually, a little better than nice. And lots better than how we often handle suffering. Take Jesus’ apostles who weren’t at the tomb with the women. They were hiding out. Not unusual in dark times to lay low and go silent. They too had been through terror and grief in the last three days. From their vantage point, of course Jesus’ BODY was still in the tomb. They knew he’d died. They’re terrified that they’re next in line for the death penalty. When Mary Magdalene, Joanna, and the others shared what they had heard at the tomb, the apostles called it an “idle tale”—which is a G-rated translation of that Greek word, by the way. BODIES don’t just disappear, and they certainly don’t just rise. Except…there’s the apostle Peter.

The very same Peter who denied that he knew Jesus three times during Jesus’ crucifixion trial. Peter ran to the tomb despite the women’s “idle tale.” Perhaps he was more concerned that the women were telling the truth, worrying what his friend Jesus would say about Peter’s denials during the trial. It could be hope or fear or both that sent Peter running to the tomb to see if any BODY is there.

Regardless, Peter’s dash to the tomb depended on the women’s story. That can be a frustrating thing about resurrection faith. We have no access to it outside of the witness of other people, the witness of the wider church that is also called the BODY of Christ.[3]  Like Peter, we’re dependent on each other for resurrection faith. Like Peter looking into the tomb himself, ultimately the witness of the church is not enough, and people need their own encounters with Jesus and the empty tomb.

Where our individual experiences connect with the resurrection faith of the church is part of what the empty tomb is about. Like Mary Magdalene, Joanna, and Peter, we do not solve the mystery, we enter the mystery of resurrection faith – God bringing us through cross and tomb into new life because we are God’s children, broken and beloved, resurrected into the BODY of Christ through Jesus’ death and resurrection. Resurrection faith trusts that there is enough for every BODY—enough resources, enough love, enough life—as we extend Christ’s arms of love and grace, so that Jesus’ joyous welcome through us nourishes the world into community.

New life literally abounds as Easter and Spring happen simultaneously this year. The new snow soaks into tree roots. Perennials pop up green and budding while birds fly back to our latitude for nesting and nectar. Perhaps your suffering, confusion, and grief make it difficult to see life at all, to feel any joy. Life doesn’t conveniently align with the season of the earth or the season of the church. One gift of the BODY of Christ is that the prayers, practices, and people of the church’s resurrection faith cocoon us while we grieve or heal, holding space for joy until we can feel it once more. When we’re too broken to pray, our church community prays for us as the risen BODY of Christ for each other and for the world. Our BODIES are not designed to hold it all, BUT the BODY of Christ, the church, is designed to hold it together.

On a wider scale, being the church, the BODY of Christ, calls us to be the love that we receive however imperfectly we reveal that love. We donate land for affordable homes just down the hill. We welcome the stranger with our refugee support teams. We pray for our enemies while holding them accountable for the dignity of each child of God. And we love our neighbors as ourselves by accompanying them in advocacy and amplifying their voices with our own.

The good news of Easter reminds us that God loves the world and does not leave us alone – the dazzling men in the tomb reminded the women that Jesus had already told them this good news; the apostles heard the good news of the resurrection from Mary Magdalene, Joanna, and the others; and today, Easter Sunday, and for the next 50 days of the Easter season, we remind each other that there is good news of defiant joy and hope in the face of suffering.

Our suffering is joined by the risen Christ who knows suffering personally, who rolls open the tombs we make for ourselves, and draws us into new life, into the BODY of Christ. Where’s the BODY? Is any BODY there?! Yes. Right here. We are the BODY made new yet again today in community from the newest visitors to the longest time members. God brings us through cross and tomb into the joy of new life solely because we are beloved children of God. Each one of us, EVERY BODY, is unconditionally beloved. By that very love, you are welcome here. The church gets to be the love we receive for the sake of the world and remind everyone that they are loved, too.  This means that there is nothing you can do or not do to make God love you anymore or any less. That’s the way unconditional love works. Happy Easter!

_________________________________________________________

[1] Luke 23:50-56

[2] Dalai Lama, Desmond Tutu, and Douglas Abrams. The Book of Joy: Lasting Happiness in a Changing World. (New York: Avery, 2016).

[3] Matthew Skinner, Professor of New Testament, Luther Seminary. Podcast on Bible readings for Easter Sunday, April 21, 2019. https://www.workingpreacher.org/brainwave.aspx?podcast_id=1129

Good News, Preaching, Sermons

What’s Ash Got to Do with It?! [OR Is Any Body There? Yes!]

photo credit: thetablet.org/filipinos-can-get-ashes-on-foreheads-for-first-time-in-two-years/

Caitlin Trussell with Augustana Lutheran Church on March 5, 2025

[sermon begins right away – the Bible readings are at the end of the sermon]

Two years ago, I first felt the lump in my abdomen that began a six-month journey through chemo to complete remission – a complete remission that persists today. Those days two years ago included an Ash Wednesday appointment between the noon and 7 p.m. worship services at which my nurse practitioner confirmed that there was a lump in my abdomen and that it needed further investigation by CT scan. Days when the word lymphoma and its widespread presence in my body became known. Days before we knew that the biopsy identified the lymphoma as low grade and considered treatable with a good probability of full remission. During those days that had more questions than answers, there were other things that became crystal clear. While I wanted very much to live and share life with my family, friends, and congregation, I was not afraid to die. The dying part stinks but I figure God’s got whatever comes next well in hand. Loving life and not being afraid to die filled the days of not knowing how long I had to live with a deep wonder of life’s precious mystery. How is it that we exist at all?!! How on God’s green earth is even breath possible in a universe in which we still haven’t found anything remotely like the diversity of creatures and ecosystems we are part of here?!!

We learn a lot about life when we face death. We often learn a lot about a thing by what we think of as its opposite. Paul’s second letter to the Corinthians hones in on opposites in the verses we heard today – imposters yet true, unknown yet well known, dying yet alive, sorrowful yet always rejoicing, having nothing yet possessing everything…[1] Paul gives us opposites and offers us an example of what living looks like through the lens of the gospel. It’s as if he’s laying down a bit of challenge to people who think they have this Christian living thing down but are doing a poor job of it.  His alternative is a set of opposites that leaves us scratching our heads but smacks of honest truth.  A perfect message for us as we begin Lent.  Because Lent never moves us to easy answers. Lent deepens us into reflection.  Reflection about ourselves with relentless honesty that reveals the motivations and actions of our daily living.[2]

It’s these very motivations and actions that are called into question by the Gospel of Matthew reading. If we think Jesus’ challenge to keep piety secret validates our natural tendency to be quiet Christians then we may be missing something. Jesus warned his disciples about pious prancing emptied of all concern for the neighbor. His teaching is part of the Sermon on the Mount that pushes his listeners out of their comfort zones and into the work of Christian love for neighbor.[3] Jesus often singled out the publicly righteous. The publicly righteous used their piety to judge everyone else’s worthiness. In light of Jesus’ challenge, how are we to understand the cross of ash marked on our foreheads? It’s a valid question. It can help to answer it by working backwards from the cross of Good Friday echoing through the cross of ash.

First, the cross means that God is not in the sin accounting business. The cross reveals the inevitable conclusion of our own attempts to be like God, to create God in our image. Jesus lived his life constantly expanding the circle that people use to limit who’s in and who’s out. He ate meals with unlovable people, he had public conversations with women no one spoke to, he had secret conversations with religious leaders who opposed him by day, the list of his ever-expanding circle of grace is endless. Finally, when the threat of his grace, the threat about who is included in the love of God, became too great, he was killed for it. Grace and unconditional love were just too threatening. Grace and unconditional love are just that powerful. Even when one of Jesus’ friends tried to fight off the guards arresting him, Jesus told him to put the sword away. Jesus raised his hand in healing at the time of his arrest, not violence, and opened his arms on the cross to all people.

The cross of ashes on our foreheads are placed with the words, “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” The truth of these words in the shape of an ash cross means that the love of Jesus for us transcends even the worst of our human failings. God’s suffering makes love possible through difficult times and in the midst of suffering. Please hear that God does not inflict our suffering, but God’s love can still be revealed through it. God’s promises may be revealed when we suffer but so is our call as conduits of blessing when we encounter suffering around us.[4] Ash Wednesday answers the question, “Is any BODY there?” with a resounding, “Yes!” We are not alone. God is with us AND connects us with each other. We’ll be reflecting on that theme—Is any Body there? Yes!—over the next five Sundays in Lent. A needed reminder in the digital AI age that we are not alone and that our bodies are important.[5]

I swear there are times I can hear the grit of ash when it’s drawn on skin one way and then the other, priming us to begin at our end, priming us to live fully knowing that it is God who promises to hold us through death. So the ash we end up wearing on our foreheads is pure promise.

It’s a promise of grace because we are just not that powerful. I did everything I could to survive the lymphoma AND the chemo that gave me life even as it made me hairless, tired, and immunosuppressed. Even as I wept and melted down and got back up again to do more until the next meltdown. As a nurse who infused chemo into children over many years, it was suddenly my turn as the effects got up close and personal. Nothing is guaranteed through a diagnosis and treatment but I knew I wanted to try. And I knew that Love was with me whether I tried or not and whether I lived or died.

Acknowledging the Love also acknowledges that our piety will never fully reflect our mixed motivations and inconsistent actions. We can’t love our neighbor or ourselves enough under our own steam. God’s love working in us and through us makes loving our neighbors and ourselves possible because it’s God who loved us first. The movement of love is from God to us. That’s what we wear on our foreheads in the form of ash.

Ultimately, Ash Wednesday isn’t about our efforts or repentance. It’s about God’s love for us despite our fragility and flaws that make God feel so far away. It’s about God who comes to us. Entering our humanity. Embodied in Jesus. God’s love is first and foremost about loving us no matter who we are or what we do. The good news is that there is nothing we can do or not do to make God love us any more or any less. Christians call such an unconditional love, grace. Ash Wednesday invites us into the wonder of life by being honest about our death—someday we will die but on all the other days we will not. As we live, the 40 days of Lent invite us to reflect and pray about the life we lead today.

For now, today, we begin at the end with the cross on our foreheads reminding us that we are fragile creatures who experience the freedom of living through the reality of our last day. Because, in the end, we are reminded once more that our purpose in Jesus is first to be loved by the God who is, who was, and who is to come. Loved unconditionally. Loved so much that we are free to wonder about our motivations and our actions without worrying about the love freely given to us. Loved so much that hearts are transformed by the grace of unconditional love. Loved so much that the eternal God loves us through death for God’s forever. Reminded that we are loved and to love. When someone asks you what’s ash got to do with it, tell them that essential thing that means everything – that it reminds you first you are loved by God and that this promise includes everyone. All bodies. No exceptions. This is good news indeed. Amen.

______________________________________________________________

[1] 2 Corinthians 6:9-10

[2] Frank L. Crouch, Dean and Vice President, Moravian Theological Seminary. Commentary on 2 Corinthians 5:20b-6:10 for Ash Wednesday on March 6, 2019.  Working Preacher, Luther Seminary. https://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=3983

[3] Matthew 5, 6, 7 [full chapters]

[4] Matt Skinner, Professor of New Testament, Luther Seminary, St. Paul, MN. Discussion on Sermon Brainwave podcast for November 5, 2023.

[5] Criag Mueller. Any Body There?: Worship and Being Human in a Digital Age (Wipf & Stock Publishers, 2017).

_______________________________________________________________

Ash Wednesday readings:

Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21, 2 [Jesus said to the disciples:] 1 “Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them; for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven.
2 “So whenever you give alms, do not sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, so that they may be praised by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. 3 But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, 4 so that your alms may be done in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.
5 “And whenever you pray, do not be like the hypocrites; for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, so that they may be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. 6 But whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.
16 “And whenever you fast, do not look dismal, like the hypocrites, for they disfigure their faces so as to show others that they are fasting. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. 17 But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, 18 so that your fasting may be seen not by others but by your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.
19 “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal; 20 but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. 21 For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

Corinthians 5:20b-6:10 We entreat you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God. 21 For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.
6:1 As we work together with him, we urge you also not to accept the grace of God in vain. 2 For he says,
“At an acceptable time I have listened to you,
and on a day of salvation I have helped you.”
See, now is the acceptable time; see, now is the day of salvation! 3 We are putting no obstacle in anyone’s way, so that no fault may be found with our ministry, 4 but as servants of God we have commended ourselves in every way: through great endurance, in afflictions, hardships, calamities, 5 beatings, imprisonments, riots, labors, sleepless nights, hunger; 6 by purity, knowledge, patience, kindness, holiness of spirit, genuine love, 7 truthful speech, and the power of God; with the weapons of righteousness for the right hand and for the left; 8 in honor and dishonor, in ill repute and good repute. We are treated as impostors, and yet are true; 9 as unknown, and yet are well known; as dying, and see—we are alive; as punished, and yet not killed; 10 as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, and yet possessing everything.

Preaching, Sermons

Jesus is at the Party [OR Joy and Suffering Coexist in Fires, Ceasefires & MLK Day] John 2:1-11

Caitlin Trussell with Augustana Lutheran Church on January 19, 2025

[sermon begins after the Bible story]

John 2:1-11 On the third day there was a wedding in Cana of Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there. 2 Jesus and his disciples had also been invited to the wedding. 3 When the wine gave out, the mother of Jesus said to him, “They have no wine.” 4 And Jesus said to her, “Woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come.” 5 His mother said to the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.” 6 Now standing there were six stone water jars for the Jewish rites of purification, each holding twenty or thirty gallons. 7 Jesus said to them, “Fill the jars with water.” And they filled them up to the brim. 8 He said to them, “Now draw some out, and take it to the chief steward.” So they took it. 9 When the steward tasted the water that had become wine, and did not know where it came from (though the servants who had drawn the water knew), the steward called the bridegroom 10 and said to him, “Everyone serves the good wine first, and then the inferior wine after the guests have become drunk. But you have kept the good wine until now.” 11 Jesus did this, the first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee, and revealed his glory; and his disciples believed in him.

[sermon begins]

The Wedding at Cana is one of my favorite Bible stories that also happens to be in my favorite book in the Bible – the gospel according to John. Most people, even if they’re not Christians, have a vague sense that water was turned into wine. They might even know that Jesus miraculously turned that water into wine. It’s less likely that people know that water was turned to wine at a wedding party full of drunk guests. That doesn’t sound like the Bible as people imagine it to be. But it does sound like the Bible because here it is, right here. Jesus was at a wedding with his mom and his friends. Wedding parties that ran out of wine were shameful. When the wine ran out, Jesus’ mother pulled the mom card. She didn’t take no for an answer and Jesus made the best wine ever.

Jesus’ obedience to his mother may be more difficult to believe than the supernatural sign. Or his obedience more confusing than the connection between the Hebrew scripture and God’s covenant with God’s people that’s compared to marriage vows. Or his obedience more unbelievable than a wine steward running out of bad wine to serve drunk wedding guests. (Do those drunk people really need more wine?) Or maybe even harder to believe than Jesus’ obedience is that he was at a party where joy, laughter, and hope were in abundance along with the fine wine he produced. That certainly wasn’t the Jesus of the Christian church in which I was raised and taught.

The church building that I grew up in burned down last week in the Eaton fire in Altadena, California. Up until a week and a half ago, I told people that I grew up in Pasadena because no one knew where Altadena was. Now Altadena has the headline. Not because it was a uniquely diverse place to grow up and not because of its historic architecture. But because a lot of it sits in ashes after the Eaton fire. My brother evacuated from the Palisades fire. My stepsiblings were evacuated from Altadena. Their homes still stand while neighbors next door on the same street lost theirs. Messages, photos, and news videos are still exchanged and forwarded to each other. One of the pictures is the burned-out hull of that church, cinderblock walls standing guard around the spaces where I learned to sing hymns acapella, where the older women of the congregation would reach out and hug me as I walked by, and where I taught Bible lessons on felt boards to the littlest children. It was also where only men were allowed to preach, baptize, and preside at communion, where dancing and alcohol were prohibited, and where God’s judgment was bigger than God’s grace. When I left home, I decided that Jesus was no fun at a party, so I didn’t take him with me. No way.

But then we come to find out, yes way! Jesus was at a wedding where joy and celebration abound. His mother and friends were there, too. It’s an epic party where the wine is flowing until it runs out. The celebration seems fitting.  Jesus’ ministry is revealed by the events at this wedding. During a party like this one, I can imagine someone saying, “I feel like I shouldn’t be having fun when there is so much suffering in the world.” I can imagine it because people say it to me fairly regularly at parties, no less. It’s harder to allow joy when pain and grief assail us as faraway fires or military bombs decimate bodies and entire neighborhoods of friends, family, and strangers alike. Even as the ceasefire begins today in Gaza between Israel and Hamas, the relief does not erase the trauma of bombs, death, and grief for Palestinians and Jews. Joy somehow feels wrong, like a betrayal of our own or other people’s pain.

It is in this tension between joy and suffering that the Wedding at Cana really shines. Jesus is at a wedding celebration. He embodies grace smack in the middle of it. His presence and activity at the wedding do NOT obscure the very real problem of Roman oppression or the pain that is experienced in everyday life. In the wedding story, Jesus is an example of celebrating life in spite of Rome and in spite of day-to-day suffering. He is also more than an example.

Turning water into wine and other things happening at the Wedding at Cana points us somewhere even as it echoes back from somewhere. When I preach this story at weddings and funerals, I often use the word “echoes” to describe what’s happening between the wedding celebration and Jesus’ death on the cross. Some of the words in the wedding story echo back from the cross. The story itself begins “On the third day” which echoes Jesus’ resurrection.[1]  Jesus refers to his “hour not yet come.” In the Gospel of John, Jesus’ hour refers to the time that he will hang on a cross.[2]  Even the tasty wedding wine itself echoes back from the sour wine given to quench Jesus’ thirst on the cross.[3]  Jesus’ mother is not named in the Gospel of John.  She is called “the mother of Jesus.”  She shows up in the gospel only twice – once at the Wedding at Cana and then again at the cross.[4]  Jesus’ mother is another echo. From his first sign of turning water into wine, the cross is already in play.  Suffering is on the horizon.  And curiously, Jesus is at a party.

The Wedding at Cana is how life works. There are moments of joy and there are moments of suffering. Neither joy nor suffering are completely absent while the other is present. Both are human. Both are faithful. I want to be clear here that I’m not talking about blind optimism in the face of suffering. As if everything is fine despite all evidence to the contrary. I’m talking about faithful joy in the gift of life while being honest about the truth of suffering and working to alleviate it as Jesus calls us to do.

Jesus is at a party where the wine steward knows how things usually work in the world. After Jesus turns the water into wine, the wine steward goes to the bridegroom and says, “Everyone serves the good wine after the guests have become drunk; but you have kept the good wine until now.” I read this as the place where sin shows up in the story. “Everyone” tries to hide what they’re doing and get away with substandard wine late in their wedding celebrations. The con is the norm. But not this time. Not this wedding. Not this Jesus. This Jesus is totally worth taking to the party. Like the wine steward, we expect that people will protect their own interests at the expense of people who are unaware of the decisions made at their expense. Jesus’ turning water into wine toward the end of the wedding party reverses how things often work in the world. Jesus’ sign reverses the selfishness that we expect as normal.

Tomorrow this country celebrates Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s life and ministry.  He stands among the saints as an example of reversing accepted cultural norms of racism and poverty through a multi-faith and multi-race movement. He believed people could do better in the face of black people suffering at the hands of white people. He believed that oppression makes everyone less than human – victims and perpetrators alike. Rev. Dr. King believed this from a place of faith that is unequivocal about God loving the world which, by definition, means black people. And God’s love for black people inspired a movement of human dignity that continues through today. A multi-race, multi-faith movement that continues to reverse the cultural norms of racism and poverty. Rev. Dr. King believed and acted from a place of faith. And he lived in joy while being honest about suffering and our own hand in it. He said, “It is cheerful to God when you rejoice or laugh from the bottom of your heart.”[5] This from a man who experienced raw suffering as racist cultural norms were viciously protected. Joy would not be stolen by ignorant harm or malicious injury. Joy is celebrated as victory and as a right of the human spirit.

We sing songs and pray prayers of praise, joy, and thanksgiving in worship today as our bodies face the cross. Our worship mirrors the tension between joy and suffering at the Wedding at Cana. Our worship mirrors life. Life that Jesus gives as he shows up with us in both celebration and suffering. Jesus gives life by way of his own life. Life that showed up in the skin of a baby. Life that laughs and dances with joy at a wedding party. Life that knows suffering. Life that self-sacrifices for the sake of the world. Life that is given for you despite your own efforts to live on your own terms. That’s the promise God makes to you. Jesus is at the party. Let’s celebrate. Alleluia and amen.

__________________________________________________

[1] John 21:11-20

[2] John 16:32

[3] John 19:28-29

[4] John 19:25-27

[5] Martin Luther King Jr.  http://martinlutherkingjrquotes.org/martin-luther-king-jr-quotes-bootstraps.html

Preaching, Sermons

Dance Lessons [OR Your Faith Has Not Failed You When You Can’t Get Better] Mark 5:21-43, Psalm 30, and Lamentations 3:22-33

Sermon photo:  Bollywood Jane Ensemble in rehearsals
Photography By Matthew Cawrey

Caitlin Trussell with Augustana Lutheran Church on June 30, 2024

[sermon begins after a long-ish reading from Mark; see the Psalm and Lamentations reading at the end of the sermon]

Mark 5:21-43  When Jesus had crossed again in the boat to the other side, a great crowd gathered around him; and he was by the sea. 22 Then one of the leaders of the synagogue named Jairus came and, when he saw him, fell at his feet 23 and begged him repeatedly, “My little daughter is at the point of death. Come and lay your hands on her, so that she may be made well, and live.” 24 So he went with him.
And a large crowd followed him and pressed in on him. 25 Now there was a woman who had been suffering from hemorrhages for twelve years. 26 She had endured much under many physicians, and had spent all that she had; and she was no better, but rather grew worse. 27 She had heard about Jesus, and came up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak, 28 for she said, “If I but touch his clothes, I will be made well.” 29 Immediately her hemorrhage stopped; and she felt in her body that she was healed of her disease. 30 Immediately aware that power had gone forth from him, Jesus turned about in the crowd and said, “Who touched my clothes?” 31 And his disciples said to him, “You see the crowd pressing in on you; how can you say, ‘Who touched me?’ ” 32 He looked all around to see who had done it. 33 But the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came in fear and trembling, fell down before him, and told him the whole truth. 34 He said to her, “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.”
35 While he was still speaking, some people came from the leader’s house to say, “Your daughter is dead. Why trouble the teacher any further?” 36 But overhearing what they said, Jesus said to the leader of the synagogue, “Do not fear, only believe.” 37 He allowed no one to follow him except Peter, James, and John, the brother of James. 38 When they came to the house of the leader of the synagogue, he saw a commotion, people weeping and wailing loudly. 39 When he had entered, he said to them, “Why do you make a commotion and weep? The child is not dead but sleeping.” 40 And they laughed at him. Then he put them all outside, and took the child’s father and mother and those who were with him, and went in where the child was. 41 He took her by the hand and said to her, “Talitha cum,” which means, “Little girl, get up!” 42 And immediately the girl got up and began to walk about (she was twelve years of age). At this they were overcome with amazement. 43 He strictly ordered them that no one should know this, and told them to give her something to eat.

[sermon begins]

People say, “Laughter is the best medicine.” It’s up there, for sure. Laughing until your sides hurt and you’re out of breath is about as good as it gets. But spontaneous laughter comes out of nowhere. You can’t order it up at a drive through. It feels amazing partly because it’s so rare. Oh sure, other things might work – watching comedy, hanging out with a funny friend, flipping a laugh-a-day calendar. Laughing is a vital and strange human activity that makes us feel better in the moment and has lasting effects for the day. But is it medicine? Curative? Mmmm…that’s a stretch. So maybe not laughter, but what about faith? Is faith medicine? We’re in a church. It’s not a stretch to ask a question about faith especially when the Bible story serves it. The bleeding woman was healed by touching Jesus’ clothes. Jairus’ daughter is resurrected after he brings Jesus to her. Jesus talks about faith. Is faith a medicine? Does it heal? An even more terrifying question, is faith required for healing?

The bleeding woman and Jairus’ undead daughter could easily be used to say such things. But we know differently, don’t we. If faith in Jesus were the magic cure all, then the world would be Christian, and no one would suffer. Our faith would be enough to cure every disease and problem. We can see with our own eyes and feel with our own heartbreak that that is not how this works. That’s not how any of this works. We would never sit at someone’s deathbed and say, “Well, I guess they didn’t have enough faith.” Or say to a dear friend whose child has just died, “Shoot, if only you’d had more faith and asked Jesus for more help.”

Then what could Jesus mean when he ties together faith and suffering, or more to the point, faith and healing? In Mark’s Gospel, Jesus has already done a bunch of healing with touch and words. He cast out unclean spirits and calmed a storm on the sea. His holiness, his life-restoring power, his superpower, are on full display.[1] Jesus said to the bleeding woman, “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.”

The Greek word sozo, translated in verse 34 as “made you well,” also means to be made whole; the word “healed” in this verse is a different Greek word. One interpretation is that being made whole by Jesus’ holiness, by the love of God, is different than being cured by medicine or other modern marvel.

When I was sick last year, I made a conscious decision to receive in love everything anyone said to me intending to be encouraging and supportive. Anyone, myself included, can say anxious, awkward things when someone we care about is sick and we try to say something rather than nothing. There were only two statements that I would reframe from my own faith: Everything happens for a reason and God doesn’t give you more than you could handle. I would say, “I know that some people find that idea comforting but for me, it’s more helpful to think that every situation is a chance for God’s love to be revealed.” Because sometimes the reason people suffer is environmental or genetic or behavioral or accidental and not of God at all. And there are incredibly stressful and horrific situations that are more than anyone can handle and certainly not of God. “Everything happens for a reason” and “God doesn’t give you more than you can handle” sound like they’re from the Bible but they are a common misinterpretation.

Without being aware that we’re doing it, we also jumble Bible verses like the reading from Lamentations today with stories like the bleeding woman and the undead daughter and think that God must be responsible for whatever terrible thing is happening. Lamentations is an important book that says something historical and specific about what was happening to God’s people in a time exile.[2]

Caution and care are necessary before we blame God for utterly human or earthly events, or carelessly mark God as a perpetrator of sin and suffering. The Bible’s book of First John says that, “God is love.”[3] If God is love, then God cannot be an agent of evil.

The Eucharistic Prayer during holy communion this summer says, “God of our struggles and celebrations, you have brought us this far along the way; you stayed with us in times of suffering and guided us on the path of love and light.” This prayer acknowledges God’s presence with us when we suffer. This is called the Theology of the Cross – God meets us in the darkest places and times of our lives. It’s one of many things that the cross means. The Eucharistic Prayer goes on to say that God “guided us on the path of love and light.” This part acknowledges that God’s holiness doesn’t make our lives perfect, stable or cured. God’s holiness makes our lives whole no matter what is happening in our lives. Our suffering will at times make us sad, angry, despairing, frustrated or whatever word you would give to your experiences. Faithful people are humans. We are human.

The peace offered by Jesus in our worst times can be felt deeply or not at all. It’s a peace offered by Jesus’ holiness, not our own. Wanting to live through a disease or injury, and doing everything in your power to be cured, means that we give ourselves a chance in the limited healing hands of modern medicine. Neither our determination nor our faith means we’re going to be cured. Our bodies are just too fragile. But our faith can help us to see our bodies and our diseases differently, to see God’s holiness differently.

Psalm 30 gives words to this holiness when the psalmist writes, “Weeping spends the night, but joy comes in the morning…you have turned my wailing into dancing.” The psalmist sings about pain and joy and God’s presence in the midst of it. Much like we do in worship when we sing and pray and sometimes even dance.

In worship, we learn God’s steps as we say prayers, sing hymns, and hear words in worship with language that comes directly from scripture. It’s like learning to dance.[4] When we take dance lessons, it takes a long time to make it look effortless. Not perfect. And, by the way, not actually effortless. That’s just what we get to see when a lifelong dancer dances. Living in faith and trust is like dance practice, formed week after week, day after day, by worship and scripture and Jesus’ holiness.

God is with us no matter how inelegantly we stumble through life and faith. God with us is God’s promise to us in Jesus. And we also have a good word to share with others about Jesus when our wailing and dancing move fluidly through the faith and cross of Jesus. Faith doesn’t make us superhuman. Faith helps us to acknowledge that we are oh-so-human. Not dredging up wholeness from within ourselves, but being made whole as Jesus heals our souls.

Thanks be to God and amen.

_______________________________________

[1] Matt Skinner, Professor of New Testament, Luther Seminary, St. Paul, MN. Sermon brainwave conversation about Bible readings for Sunday, June 30, 2024. Working Preacher’s Sermon Brainwave: Sermon Brainwave 971: Sixth Sunday after Pentecost (Ord. 13B) – June 30, 2024 (libsyn.com)

[2] Skinner, Ibid.

[3] 1 John 4:16a

[4] C.S. Lewis says this ever more elegantly. See his quote from “Letters to Malcolm: Chiefly on Prayer” here: A REFLECTION ABOUT WORSHIP – C.S…. – St. Aidan’s Anglican Church | Facebook

________________________________________

Psalm 30

I will exalt you, O Lord, because you have lift- | ed me up
and have not let my enemies triumph | over me.
2 O Lord my God, I cried | out to you,
and you restored | me to health.
3 You brought me up, O Lord, | from the dead;
you restored my life as I was going down | to the grave.
4 Sing praise to the Lord, | all you faithful;
give thanks in ho- | ly remembrance. R
5 God’s wrath is short; God’s favor | lasts a lifetime.
Weeping spends the night, but joy comes | in the morning.
6 While I felt se- | cure, I said,
“I shall never | be disturbed.
7 You, Lord, with your favor, made me as strong | as the mountains.”
Then you hid your face, and I was | filled with fear.
8 I cried to | you, O Lord;
I pleaded with | my Lord, saying,
9 “What profit is there in my blood, if I go down | to the pit?
Will the dust praise you or de- | clare your faithfulness?
10 Hear, O Lord, and have mer- | cy upon me;
O Lord, | be my helper.” R
11 You have turned my wailing | into dancing;
you have put off my sackcloth and clothed | me with joy.
12 Therefore my heart sings to you | without ceasing;
O Lord my God, I will give you | thanks forever. R

 

Lamentations 3:22-33

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases,
his mercies never come to an end;
23 they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
24 “The Lord is my portion,” says my soul,
“therefore I will hope in him.”

25 The Lord is good to those who wait for him,
to the soul that seeks him.
26 It is good that one should wait quietly
for the salvation of the Lord.
27 It is good for one to bear
the yoke in youth,
28 to sit alone in silence
when the Lord has imposed it,
29 to put one’s mouth to the dust
(there may yet be hope),
30 to give one’s cheek to the smiter,
and be filled with insults.

31 For the Lord will not
reject forever.
32 Although he causes grief, he will have compassion
according to the abundance of his steadfast love;
33 for he does not willingly afflict
or grieve anyone.

Preaching, Sermons

Bishop Jim Gonia’s sermon: Installation of Caitlin Trussell – John 2: 1-11

Bishop Jim Gonia preaching at my Installation to Senior Pastor on June 8, 2024

Augustana Lutheran Church, Denver CO

[sermon begins after two Bible readings; the Isaiah reading is at the end of the sermon]

1 John 4:16 God is love.

John 2:1-11 On the third day there was a wedding in Cana of Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there. 2Jesus and his disciples had also been invited to the wedding. 3When the wine gave out, the mother of Jesus said to him, “They have no wine.” 4And Jesus said to her, “Woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come.” 5His mother said to the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.” 6Now standing there were six stone water jars for the Jewish rites of purification, each holding twenty or thirty gallons. 7Jesus said to them, “Fill the jars with water.” And they filled them up to the brim. 8He said to them, “Now draw some out, and take it to the chief steward.” So they took it. 9When the steward tasted the water that had become wine, and did not know where it came from (though the servants who had drawn the water knew), the steward called the bridegroom 10and said to him, “Everyone serves the good wine first, and then the inferior wine after the guests have become drunk. But you have kept the good wine until now.” 11Jesus did this, the first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee, and revealed his glory; and his disciples believed in him.

 

[sermon begins]

Beloved in Christ: God’s grace, mercy and peace are yours this day!

Pastor Caitlin, you’ve managed to do something no one else has done, as far as I can tell. In the roughly 220 installations at which I’ve preached in my twelve years as bishop, no one else has chosen this splendid gospel reading for this moment! Which is a little surprising when you think about it. After all, here is a well-known Jesus story set in the context of a joyous celebration marking a new partnership in life. Why not this story to mark the joyous celebration of a new partnership in ministry? You spotted it right away when you said to me: Most people in the world have a vague idea that Jesus turned water into wine. It’s a good story. It’s set at a party. It’s good to celebrate the fun, joyous times. Jesus and his friends and his mother were there. It’s easy to think that the Bible is so somber, yet look!

And yet as you also note, there’s more here: Jesus’ “hour not yet come” alludes to the cross and by extension to the suffering we experience as fragile creatures – a suffering you know something about. Yet you add: The church meets people across the spectrum of experience just as Jesus did. The scripture passage does it all.

Yes, Pastor Caitlin, it does!

And yet as we’ve heard, this reading from John isn’t our only Scripture today. We have this wonderful text from Isaiah 55, which as you note, shows that the Lord is up to something good – another joyous reading in the Lord’s own voice that promises peace. We also have this powerful one line from First John that proclaims: God is love. As you noted when describing your hopes for this installation and for your ministry: My hope is that people hear that God loves all of us because God is Love. Period. And that I love Jesus and I love the church enough to spend time using my gifts and leading in this way.

Friends here at Augustana, let me just underscore what your pastor said: I love the church enough to spend time using my gifts and leading in this way – in the way of God’s Jesus-shaped love. Do not count this lightly. At a time when so much uncertainly clouds our vision – including in the life of the church –when faith communities can be as much a cause for heartache and pain as for hope and joy – when more than one pastor has decided to call it quits because it’s just not worth it anymore, to have a pastor who loves Christ’s Church enough to fully invest herself  with you – offering her unique gifts in such a time as this – that is no small thing. It is indeed a reason to celebrate and give thanks to God for this new partnership!

With that in mind, let’s celebrate this moment by highlighting some key takeaways from this Jesus story that speak to your relationship as pastor and congregation embarking on a new chapter of partnership. 

Take-away number one: everyone has a part to play in the work of Jesus.

We call this a miracle story, but it’s really about how Jesus works among us. Note that he doesn’t lift a finger here. True, he speaks a word or two, but he doesn’t actually DO anything. A lot of other people do all sorts of things, and because they do, this work, this miracle happens. The part that each person plays counts.

Consider the bride and groom and their families. Their role is to invite Jesus, his disciples and his mother to begin with. That may not seem noteworthy, but the whole story is predicated on it!

Then there’s the role that Mary herself plays by sharing the problem that has arisen with Jesus. Jesus, they’re out of wine! And when Jesus suggests that this really isn’t a good time for this sort of thing, mom, Mary is unphased and instructs the servants to do whatever Jesus asks. Her part matters.

Because the servants do exactly as Mary asks. They follow Jesus’ instructions to fill the stone jars, set aside for the rite of purification, with water. And then, they draw the water out as instructed, and take it to the chief steward. Let’s be clear: without the part the “servants” play, there is no miracle!

The chief steward then plays his part by drawing attention to what has happened, proclaiming this to be the finest wine of the whole wedding feast, oddly saved for the end instead of being used up at the beginning. With this pronouncement, the work that Jesus has made happen goes public.

Even the disciples standing on the sidelines, have a part to play in this work of Jesus. This whole episode forms their faith in a particular way, so that as they continue their journey with Jesus, they do so with new understanding about him.

So yes, while this is a story about the miracle or work of Jesus, it is a story about Jesus’ work in which everyone has a role to play, without which, this work would not happen.

Which is a really critical reminder for you in this new chapter of partnership. As pastor and congregation you are called to be about the work of Jesus, and while it is indeed God’s work that Jesus is about, not yours or mine, Jesus makes sure that this work is carried about by our hands – by our feet, our lips, our participation. Which means that everyone has a part to play, everyone serves a role in this Jesus work. 

I have seen it too often in congregations once a pastor is called – even a pastor who has already been serving but now is in a new role, I’ve seen this collective leaning back with a big sigh that says: ah, the pastor’s here. She’ll take care of everything.

No, people of Augustana, she won’t. The ministry of this community of faith – the work of Jesus among you, through you – depends on the role that each and every person plays. Jesus set this pattern up at a wedding in Cana of Galilee. He could have just gotten up himself and filled the water jars, waved his hands over them and pronounced for all to hear that he just produced a new vintage!

But that’s not how Jesus does his work – then or now. Jesus works in and through us – sometimes in spite of us – but never apart from us. As a congregation in partnership with your pastor, lean deeply into this important take-away.

Take-away number two: the Jesus story of which you are a part is always bigger than what you yourself know.

When you read this story carefully you realize that no one has the whole picture of what’s going on at any given time – they only know what they’ve seen, heard or witnessed in their moment. It’s only when you bring all the perspectives together that a wider truth emerges.

Why does this matter? It’s very tempting in the life of a congregation for people to operate on the basis of what they alone know, rather than recognizing that there’s always more to the story of which they are a part. Assumptions are made, judgments are rendered based on partial perspective. Which is dangerous to the life of a community of faith, and often to its pastor. 

Regardless of what is happening in your midst, recognize that you only ever have your perspective, not the whole truth. Whenever possible, bring those different perspectives together to gain a fuller picture of what’s happening, but even then, learn to humbly recognize that there may be dimensions to what is happening in your midst that you simply don’t know and may never know. It’s OK – God’s still got this, and your part in the story still matters! 

Finally, take-away number three: recognize how – in the hands of Jesus – every obstacle becomes an opportunity, if not for a miracle, for a chance to witness God’s glory. 

I have often said, nothing is wasted in God’s ecology. God can and does use everything – be it an inconvenient situation or a challenging circumstance – be it the most daunting and painful experience – God uses all of this as raw material to bring forth something new and hopeful and life-giving – dare I say, glorious. Now to be clear, God is not the author of our pain or heartache, but God in Christ does meets us in every place we consider God-forsaken or unsolvable. And in those places, the crucified one not only carries our pain and burdens, God in Christ redeems them. God’s own cross-shaped glory is revealed.

Which means, that the obstacles or problems you will face as a congregation and pastor in this new chapter, these will never be the end of the story, but always a gateway for the work and glory of Jesus to be revealed – in ways that will usually surprise you. Kind of like water turning into wine at a wedding.

Beloved of Augustana, Pastor Caitlin: take to heart what this Jesus story offers on a day when you joyously celebrate your new partnership in ministry. There is good news here in knowing that everyone has a part to play in the work of Jesus, that you don’t need to know the whole story to be part of it. There is promise in witnessing again, how in the hands of Jesus, every obstacle becomes an opportunity for God’s glory to shine.

Thanks be to God!

AMEN

_______________________________________________________

Isaiah 55:8-12 For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
 nor are your ways my ways, says the LORD.
 9For as the heavens are higher than the earth,
 so are my ways higher than your ways
 and my thoughts than your thoughts.
 10For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven,
 and do not return there until they have watered the earth,
 making it bring forth and sprout,
 giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater,
 11so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth;
 it shall not return to me empty,
 but it shall accomplish that which I purpose,
 and succeed in the thing for which I sent it.
 12For you shall go out in joy,
 and be led back in peace;
 the mountains and the hills before you
 shall burst into song,
 and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands.

 

Preaching, Sermons

The Goodness of Good Friday – The Gospel of John, chapters 18 and 19

**sermon art: The Crucifixion with Jesus Mother and the Beloved Disciple by Laura James.

Pastor Caitlin Trussell with Augustana Lutheran Church on March 29, 2024

John 18 and 19 – read the whole thing elsewhere if you’d like – sermon begins after this brief excerpt:

John 19:17–18, 25b–27 So they took Jesus; and carrying the cross by himself, he went out to what is called The Place of the Skull, which in Hebrew is called Golgotha. There they crucified him, and with him two others, one on either side, with Jesus between them.

Meanwhile, standing near the cross of Jesus were his mother, and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing beside her, he said to his mother, “Woman, here is your son.” Then he said to the disciple, “Here is your mother.” And from that hour the disciple took her into his own home.

[sermon begins]

How are we to understand the goodness of Good Friday? A violent execution seems an odd thing to commemorate much less celebrate, especially in a time when the world is wrestling with disturbing violence and deep pain. It’s really important today to understand that it’s not the violence of the cross that is redemptive. It’s not the pain of Jesus that saves us. It’s easy to get lost in the message of the cross because the earliest Jesus followers who wrote down their experiences couldn’t quite figure it out either.

The goodness of Good Friday has to do with God. More specifically, the goodness of Good Friday has to do with who God is in Jesus. The Gospel of John argues that God is Jesus and Jesus is God. The love of God in Jesus, the audacity of grace personified in Jesus, the ultimate power of that love, so enraged his enemies and fueled the mob mentality that ultimately killed him. Jesus ate meals with unlovable people, he had public conversations with women no one spoke to, and he had secret conversations with religious leaders who opposed him by day. The list of his ever-expanding circle of grace and love is endless. Finally, when the threat of his grace, the threat about who is included in the love of God, became too great, he was killed for it. Grace and unconditional love were just too threatening. When Jesus predicted his death, it was the inevitable end that could be anticipated. Hate’s last gasp, if you will, because love is the greatest power and hate will always try to do away with it.

The goodness of Good Friday reminds us that we are not left alone in suffering. God suffers with us. God absorbs our suffering into God’s heart. Good Friday also tells the truth about suffering caused by violence. Large acts of violence are obvious. There are also the smaller acts of violence that destroy relationships and murder people’s spirits and our own spirits – lies, gossip, passive aggression, dissing someone’s body rather than debating their ideas or confronting their hurtful behavior…the list of our violent ways is as endless as we are creative in inflicting ourselves against the ones we love and the ones we hate.  The level we inflict suffering on each other, and on the earth and all its creatures, knows no bounds.

The goodness of Good Friday reminds us that the cross is the place where we struggle in the darkness and the very place where God meets us. We live in this darkness in different ways – failure, addiction, confusion, doubt – our darkest places that we don’t tell anyone about. Most of us are capable of just about anything given the right set of circumstances. The goodness of Good Friday isn’t about pointing away from ourselves at other people who cause suffering. It’s also a sacred space to wonder and confess the pain that we cause as well.

Confessions of sin extend to systems that we’re a part of – institutions, countries, governments, families, friendships, communities, etc. Systems that hold us captive to sin from which we cannot free ourselves. What does free us? Jesus on the cross. Jesus on the cross holds up a mirror in which we can see our own reflections. Reflections that reveal the sin we inflict on each other and cannot justify. Oh sure, we try riding that high horse, cloaking our sin in self-righteousness. But the cross tells us otherwise. The cross also surprises us with grace in the face of sin.

We often act without awareness of how our actions may hurt someone else. That’s why our worship confessions talk about things we’ve done and things we’ve failed to do. That’s why we talk about our sin. Sin gives us language for the way we hurt other people and ourselves with our actions – actions that separate us from each other and God. Good Friday’s goodness creates space to experience life-giving compassion from the heart of God in the face of our sin. God’s SELF-sacrifice in Jesus also reminds us that Jesus’ death isn’t payment to an angry God or a hungry devil. That’s just divine child abuse. Jesus is a revelation of the goodness of God, taking violence into himself on the cross, transforming death through SELF-sacrifice, and revealing the depth of divine love.

God reveals the truth of our death dealing ways while reminding us that God’s intention for humankind is good.[1] Jesus was fully human and fully divine. His life’s ministry and his death on the cross reveal our humanity and the goodness for which we were created. The cross awakens that goodness. Jesus’ full and fragile humanity was displayed on the cross. He sacrificed himself to the people who killed him for his radical, excessive love. He would not raise a hand in violence against the people and the world that God so loves. Jesus’ self-sacrificing goodness clears our eyes to see God’s intention for our human life together.

Our connection with each other is also revealed in the goodness of Good Friday. From the cross, Jesus redefined connection, kinship, and companionship. Hear these words again from the gospel reading:

“Meanwhile, standing near the cross of Jesus were his mother, and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. 26When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing beside her, he said to his mother, “Woman, here is your son.” 27Then he said to the disciple, “Here is your mother.” And from that hour the disciple took her into his own home.” [2]

From the cross, with some of his last breaths, Jesus did this incredible thing. It’s amazing. Jesus connects people through suffering. This is not a reason for suffering. Simply one truth about it. When we suffer and feel most alone, Jesus reaches out from his own suffering to remind us that we have each other. God’s heart revealed through the cross destroys the illusion of our aloneness and connects us to each other once more. In God we live and move and have our being through God’s goodness in Jesus on the cross. In each other, we’re given kinship and appreciation for the gift and mystery of being alive.

In the end, the cross isn’t about us at all. It’s about the self-sacrificing love of Jesus who reveals God’s ways to show us the logical end of ours – our death-dealing ways in the face of excessive grace and radical love. We struggle to believe that God applies this grace and love to everyone. It’s hard enough to believe that there’s a God who loves us. It’s downright offensive that God loves our greatest enemy as much as God loves us. But that is God’s promise in the goodness of Good Friday. There is nothing you can do or not do to make God love you any more or any less. God loves you through the cross, in the darkest places that you don’t tell anyone about. Nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus.[3] God’s arms are opened to all in the outstretched arms of Jesus on the cross, receiving us by God’s reckless grace because God is love.[4] The goodness of Good Friday is that God loves us. God loves you. Amen.

__________________________________________________

[1] Genesis 1:26-31 God creates “humankind.”

[2] John 19:25b-27

[3] Romans 8:38-39

[4] 1 John 4:7-21

Preaching, Sermons

The Wonder of It All [OR Hope Dazzles on a Mountaintop] Mark 9:2-9

**sermon art: The Transfiguration by Armando Alemdar Ara, 2004

Pastor Caitlin Trussell with Augustana Lutheran Church on February 11, 2024 – Transfiguration of our Lord

[sermon begins after the Bible reading]

Mark 9:2-9 Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and John, and led them up a high mountain apart, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, 3and his clothes became dazzling white, such as no one on earth could bleach them. 4And there appeared to them Elijah with Moses, who were talking with Jesus. 5Then Peter said to Jesus, “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” 6He did not know what to say, for they were terrified. 7Then a cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud there came a voice, “This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!” 8Suddenly when they looked around, they saw no one with them any more, but only Jesus.
9As they were coming down the mountain, he ordered them to tell no one about what they had seen, until after the Son of Man had risen from the dead.

[sermon begins]

After being ordained and called here 11 years ago on February 2nd, my very first sermon was on February 10th and was about Jesus’ transfiguration. I synthesized scripture from Jesus’ baptism to the transfiguration, did theological flips from the transfiguration mountaintop to the rugged cross on a hill faraway, and was generally pretty pleased with my first effort. That was before we used to process the cross at the beginning and end of worship, so after worship I was walking down the pulpit side aisle to go shake hands. Walking in front of me were two women, dear friends to each other and over the years they became dear to me. They were disappointed in my sermon. Yup. Right down to shaking their heads about it. They wanted to enjoy Jesus’ Transfiguration for itself, not for what came before and what came after. I learned a few important lessons that day. One, don’t lurk behind folks after worship unless you want to know what they really think. Two, not every sermon is for everybody. And three, maybe it’s worth it to stay in the wonder of it all when given the chance.

Wonder helps us stay in the moment. Rather than ask “why” about the past and “what now” or “what’s next” about the future, we so often leave wonder in the side aisle. Maybe you can relate. We know that the church world is rife with analyzing the past and dreaming into the future. We ask often, “what went well and what could we do better next time?” Ministry volunteers and staff just wrote 2023 annual reports that we’ll talk about in next Sunday’s Lunch & Learn (a shameless plug, in case you’re curious). Just last week we had a liturgy planning meeting that took us through Pentecost Sunday at the END OF MAY. My siblings and I are planning a trip for NEXT JANUARY 2025. You each have your own pasts and your own future plans so, just for today, for this moment, I’m going to ask that we enjoy the transfiguration and hang out with Jesus on the mountaintop and be dazzled by the wonder of it all.

But before we’re dazzled, it’s good to acknowledge that Bible stories like Jesus’ transfiguration are weird. The weirdness, the other worldliness, the mystical elements can leave us wanting to know what actually happened up on that mountain. Inquiring minds want to know. It’s just how we’re built. At my gym, we start class with warmups during which we share our name and answer a Question of the Day. Last week, the question was asked, “If you could have dinner with anyone in history, who would it be?” I answered, “My name is Caitlin and I would have dinner with Jesus, I know that’s a little cliché coming from me, but I just want to hear Jesus talk about himself, his experiences and what he thought he was doing.” As I finished my answer, one gym friend earnestly said, “That’s exactly what I was going to say, I want to know those things.” He settled on having dinner with Jesus’ mother Mary to fill in the knowledge gaps. After the workout, we chatted a bit more and I learned that my workout friend is an atheist. It was a very cool conversation and we agreed that faith and atheism are both unprovable, two sides of the same faith coin. Although here, today in church, the things we take on faith can open our eyes to the wonder of it all.

Since we have our dinner with Jesus during holy communion, we take the story of Jesus’ transfiguration on faith. Time collapsed in a dazzling light show. Even Jesus’ clothes took on heavenly shine. Moses and Elijah, long dead, talked with Jesus. That undead discussion is eerie and otherworldly. So much so that Peter spoke without knowing what to say. His terror at the vision before him was so overwhelming that he reacted with a plan for what came next rather than pause in awe of the transcendent mystery. It’s common to critique Peter – to laugh at him and say don’t be like him. But we are Peter. Our brains are busy, and we want to make sense of things, to feel bigger than the mystery or somehow in control of it. Transfiguration is a good reminder that mystery will have its way whether we’re ready for it or understand it. It’s a good reminder of the wonder of it all.

Today’s spotlight on the many volunteers who make the work of the church work, reveals an astounding mystery unto itself. People so committed to God, each other, and the world God loves, that you give an hour or two or more a week to the ministries you hold dear. Ministries of welcome and worship. Ministries of leadership and love of neighbor. Ministries that deepen faith and offer hope and healing regardless of cure. Hours upon hours of volunteering that reject a self-centered view of the world in the face of a struggling world. Unbelievable things inspiring unbelievable things. How do we even get our heads around the wonder of it all?!

Last Sunday, Pastor Gail preached that church is a ready-made house of hospitality and socialization and purpose. We could add that church worship is ready made space for transcendent mystery. Maybe not every week for everyone but there are moments when mystery has its way. For me it’s when songs soar from the choir or when we all sing together raising the roof, but it’s also that moment when the song stills into silence. That heartbeat or two before the next sounds begin, when your heart fills until tears brim onto your eyelashes. Or sometimes, the connection with Jesus and all that is holy during communion has no words to describe it. The meal where no one is asked to stay away. Everyone can eat! A meal leaving you not knowing what to say in the mystery of unconditional divine love. Or even in those moments when you drift out of a sermon, tuning out the words, only to receive an overwhelming sense of love and hope that are beyond words. Oh, the wonder of it all!

Worship is otherworldly. It isn’t logical. It’s kinda weird. Worship connects us with an ancient world and a future hope, collapsing time and connecting our stories with Jesus followers long ago and those yet to come. Sometimes hope feels fragile, clouded by our unanswerable questions and reactive plans. And sometimes hope shines like a dazzling Jesus. We pause our day-to-day lives to gather, to sing, pray, and eat together in faith and doubt, fear and hope, suffering and love, while we’re transformed by Jesus, the wonder of it all…

Good News, Preaching, Sermons

Rise and Sing Again [OR Mortality, Music, and Meaning] – Ash Wednesday Joel 2, 2 Corinthians 5, and Psalm 51

sermon art: Ken Phillips, textiles, 2020

Caitlin Trussell with Augustana Lutheran Church on Ash Wednesday – February 22, 2023, 11:00 a.m. worship

[sermon begins after two Bible readings from the books of Joel and 2 Corinthians; Psalm 51 is at the end of the sermon]

Joel 2:12-17  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, it is near—
2a day of darkness and gloom,
a day of clouds and thick darkness!
Like blackness spread upon the mountains
a great and powerful army comes;
their like has never been from of old,
nor will be again after them
in ages to come.
12Yet even now, says the Lord,
return to me with all your heart,
with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning;
13rend your hearts and not your clothing.
Return to the Lord, your God,
for he is gracious and merciful,
slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love,
and relents from punishing.
14Who knows whether he will not turn and relent,
and leave a blessing behind him,
a grain offering and a drink offering
for the Lord, your God?
15Blow the trumpet in Zion;
sanctify a fast;
call a solemn assembly;
16gather the people.
Sanctify the congregation;
assemble the aged;
gather the children,
even infants at the breast.
Let the bridegroom leave his room,
and the bride her canopy.
17Between the vestibule and the altar
let the priests, the ministers of the Lord, weep.
Let them say, “Spare your people, O Lord,
and do not make your heritage a mockery,
a byword among the nations.
Why should it be said among the peoples,
‘Where is their God?’ ”

2 Corinthians 5:20b-6:10 We entreat you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God. 21For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.
6:1As we work together with him, we urge you also not to accept the grace of God in vain. 2For he says,
“At an acceptable time I have listened to you,
and on a day of salvation I have helped you.”
See, now is the acceptable time; see, now is the day of salvation! 3We are putting no obstacle in anyone’s way, so that no fault may be found with our ministry, 4but as servants of God we have commended ourselves in every way: through great endurance, in afflictions, hardships, calamities, 5beatings, imprisonments, riots, labors, sleepless nights, hunger; 6by purity, knowledge, patience, kindness, holiness of spirit, genuine love, 7truthful speech, and the power of God; with the weapons of righteousness for the right hand and for the left; 8in honor and dishonor, in ill repute and good repute. We are treated as impostors, and yet are true; 9as unknown, and yet are well known; as dying, and see—we are alive; as punished, and yet not killed; 10as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, and yet possessing everything.

[sermon begins]

How would you describe the way a favorite old hymn catches you off guard during a worship service? Or the way a new hymn immediately feels like an old favorite? For me, it runs the range of human emotion. Sometimes singing a hymn feels like joy so strong that it moves me to dance…or at least moves me to the less conspicuous swaying option. Sometimes hymn singing feels like inspiration that strengthens my resolve to love my neighbor and work for justice and peace. And sometimes hymn singing feels like deep grief, when the words get caught in my throat and like I won’t be able to breathe if I keep on singing or, at the very least, tears will dampen the sound. I could go on and on but the bottom line is that singing in this place with you all is food for the soul whether we’re exuberantly singing together on a tried-and-true hymn or bumbling along on a new one. There are very few places in which public singing happens. Concerts have their superfans who know all the songs by heart and include the rest of us slouches who may know the words to one or two of their popular songs. Baseball games have the 7th Inning Stretch with the happy group singing of, “Take me out to the ball game!” But regular singing together happens less and less for people. Places of worship are the main places where songs are sung as a group.

In the reading from Joel, the people are assembled and gathered into a congregation – men and women, old and young, even the bride and groom. Everyone is called to return to God who is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love. Joel writes, “…rend your hearts, not your clothing…” We hear that the people assembled with hearts broken open before God. When the people gathered even in those days, there were songs to be sung. In the case of Joel’s story, the song was likely a psalm of lament and confession, a psalm that describes their open, penitent hearts and their trust in God’s grace, mercy, and steadfast love – perhaps Psalm 51, an Ash Wednesday classic. The Psalms are the Bible’s hymnal. There are songs to be found in other places in the Bible, to be sure, but the Psalms are a record of liturgical poetry accompanied by music.

The English term [psalm] title derives from the Greek psalmos, meaning “song accompanied by a stringed instrument.” In Hebrew, the book is known as Tehillim or “songs of praise.”[1]

As the people sang in Joel’s story, perhaps their throats closed as their tears fell…and as their hearts opened. Singing yet struggling in the midst of their suffering to trust that God is gracious and merciful, abounding in steadfast love. Suffering and yet still they sang.

In 2 Corinthians, the apostle Paul lists the suffering that he and the other disciples had endured. It’s helpful that he begins the passage calling the readers to be reconciled to God because it could be argued that Paul reveled in his suffering just a bit much.[2] But the good part of listing his sufferings is that he’s drawing a complete picture of where God shows up in the darkest places of our humanity and how hardship can shape us for the good.[3] Not that suffering is lucky or somehow part of the bitter medicine we’re supposed to take. But because the apostle Paul might say, “It’s because of the ways that suffering conforms to the example of Christ crucified and new life coming out of that.”[4]

On Ash Wednesday, we’re acknowledging our fragility as humans, our mortality in these fragile bodies and we place our trust in God who meets us in our most fragile places – when our bodies betray us and when we betray ourselves and each other. Today is a day to be honest about the suffering we experience because it’s part of the human condition and also the suffering we inflict on ourselves and each other. Care needs to be taken that we don’t corrupt this theology into valorizing suffering and hardship. Rather, if you are going through “hardship, chronic pain, deep disappointment,” if the Beatitudes fit your story in this moment, God meets you there not because it’s a magic ticket to God but because it’s a place where God shows up.[5] God shows up and promises transformation and new life – the story of Lent through the glory of Easter.

Last Fall, I attended our Theological Conference for ministry leaders, pastors, and deacons. The topic was Trauma and Resilience. These beautiful banners in our Sanctuary today were lined up in the hotel ballroom where we met and worshipped together. The art was a visual prayer during that time as we talked about suffering and trauma and healing and research and mental health practitioners and where our faith was or wasn’t in those experiences. I wondered with someone afterwards if the artist might make them available to us during Lent.[6] From the psalmic poetry and the textile beauty, we chose our Lenten theme, “Rise and Sing Again.” It’s part of the words on the banner over by the baptismal font – a location of happy accident as the banners were laid out in the order the artist intended. The banners tell a story of feeling forsaken in suffering and rising to sing again. They start at this one by the pulpit and move backwards in order on this side of the Sanctuary and then forward on the organ side.

Rising and singing again is part of what our faith community does for each other over and over. We sing when the person next to us can’t. They sing when we can’t. We all sing when we can. Rising and singing again acknowledges this imperfect and messy world where suffering often has no explanation and is regularly the actual result of people hurting us through the sin of carelessness or maliciousness or, vice versa, us hurting other people through carelessness or maliciousness. In difficult times, people sometimes use the non-biblical, cultural expression, “Well, everything happens for a reason.” To which, in the right situations, I’ll respond, “Yes, and sometimes the reason is sin.”

Today is a day of penitence. A day to be honest about who we are as fragile, mortal creatures which includes the sin and suffering we endure and inflict on ourselves and others. A day to be honest about whether or not we’re ready to sing in the midst of it – as Paul says, “…sorrowful, yet always rejoicing.”

Today on Ash Wednesday, the ashes on our forehead remind us that mortality, suffering, and death do not have the last word. God does. And God meets our fragile, careless, and malicious humanity with grace, mercy, and steadfast love, transforming our lives with God’s promise of new life. For this and for all that God is doing, we can say thanks be to God and amen.

___________________________________________________

[1] Rabbi Or Rose. “The Book of Psalms.” https://www.myjewishlearning.com/article/the-book-of-psalms/

[2] Matt Skinner, Professor of New Testament, Luther Seminary, St. Paul, MN. Sermon Brainwave Podcast for Ash Wednesday on February 22, 2023. www.workingpreacher.org/podcasts/889-ash-wednesday-february-22-2023

[3] Ibid.

[4] Ibid.

[5] Ibid.; Also, find Jesus’ teaching on the Beatitudes in Matthew 5…blessed are the poor in spirit, the grieving, etc.

[6] Ken Phillips, local Denver textile and liturgical artist. Read more about him here: www.regis.edu/news/2022/magazine/06/ken-phillips-weaves-a-tempest-in-tapestry

__________________________________________________

Psalm 51

Have mercy on me, O God,
 according to your steadfast love;
 according to your abundant mercy
 blot out my transgressions.
 2Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity,
 and cleanse me from my sin.
 3For I know my transgressions,
 and my sin is ever before me.
 4Against you, you alone, have I sinned,
 and done what is evil in your sight,
 so that you are justified in your sentence
 and blameless when you pass judgment.
 5Indeed, I was born guilty,
 a sinner when my mother conceived me.
 6You desire truth in the inward being;
 therefore teach me wisdom in my secret heart.
 7Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean;
 wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.
 8Let me hear joy and gladness;
 let the bones that you have crushed rejoice.
 9Hide your face from my sins,
 and blot out all my iniquities.
 10Create in me a clean heart, O God,
 and put a new and right spirit within me.
 11Do not cast me away from your presence,
 and do not take your holy spirit from me.
 12Restore to me the joy of your salvation,
 and sustain in me a willing spirit.
 13Then I will teach transgressors your ways,
 and sinners will return to you.
 14Deliver me from bloodshed, O God,
 O God of my salvation,
 and my tongue will sing aloud of your deliverance.
 15O LORD, open my lips,
 and my mouth will declare your praise.
 16For you have no delight in sacrifice;
 if I were to give a burnt offering, you would not be pleased.
 17The sacrifice acceptable to God is a broken spirit;
 a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.

Sermons

Be Light Because You Are Light [OR Bridesmaids, Pandemic, and Election are NOT the End of the Story] Matthew 25:1-13

Caitlin Trussell with Augustana Lutheran Church on November 8, 2020

[sermon begins after Bible reading – hang in there, the reading will get the full treatment in the sermon]

Matthew 25:1-13  “Then the kingdom of heaven will be like this. Ten bridesmaids took their lamps and went to meet the bridegroom. 2 Five of them were foolish, and five were wise. 3 When the foolish took their lamps, they took no oil with them; 4 but the wise took flasks of oil with their lamps. 5 As the bridegroom was delayed, all of them became drowsy and slept. 6 But at midnight there was a shout, “Look! Here is the bridegroom! Come out to meet him.’ 7 Then all those bridesmaids got up and trimmed their lamps. 8 The foolish said to the wise, “Give us some of your oil, for our lamps are going out.’ 9 But the wise replied, “No! there will not be enough for you and for us; you had better go to the dealers and buy some for yourselves.’ 10 And while they went to buy it, the bridegroom came, and those who were ready went with him into the wedding banquet; and the door was shut. 11 Later the other bridesmaids came also, saying, “Lord, lord, open to us.’ 12 But he replied, “Truly I tell you, I do not know you.’ 13 Keep awake therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour.

[sermon begins]

♬You are the light of the world.

You are the light of the world.

So shine, shine, shine where you are…

You are the light of the world.♬[1]

Liturgical geeks among us may be wondering why I’m echoing the season of Epiphany, singing from Tangled Blue’s lyrics pulled from the fifth chapter of Matthew’s gospel. Well, for one thing, it’s easier to start there than in today’s reading. For another, in chapter 5, Jesus tells his disciples, “You are the light of the world.” In the verses following, he goes on to say the familiar words set in the baptism liturgy, “Let your light so shine before others, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven.” With hard parables like this one about the bridesmaids, it’s good to be reminded about the main things before diving in. And the main thing today is that God’s promises flow from God to us. We don’t earn or generate God’s promises by our behavior. If that were possible, someone would have cracked that code long ago. It’s also not only easier to start in chapter 5, it’s an important key to how we read about the bridesmaids’ lamps.[2] In Matthew chapters 5-7, Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount includes the beatitudes that we heard last week on All Saints Day. Jesus’ sermon is key to Matthew’s gospel and anchors us to his sermon to the faithful and his trial and crucifixion.[3]

Today we start Matthew’s 25th chapter for three weeks. Jesus’ challenges to the faithful are intensifying.[4] The Matthean community was experiencing conflict between insiders and outsiders, probably other Jewish groups, that called into question who had the proper authority to teach.[5] The community also likely had some internal conflict among themselves. It gives one pause to wonder about the writer’s biggest worry, the kind of pressure they were under. Curiosity about their 1st century distress lends compassion to this struggling faith community and the harsh parable in today’s reading.

A relevant side note here. Lyn Goodrum in our church office asked me recently if I’d fallen in love with Matthew’s gospel. Some of you may remember my confession last December in Advent that I’d had my own struggle with this particular book of the Bible, the Sermon on the Mount notwithstanding. I was able to tell Lyn that I’ve not fallen in love with it but that I have grown to appreciate it. In part, this happened because I have a new appreciation for the Matthean community’s experience. Reading through that lens made room for more compassion. Our current cultural moment adds to that compassion. Division isn’t fun. Division that threatens potential violence, especially isn’t fun.

I wrote this sermon before Election Day and recorded it on Wednesday for today’s worship. There’s no telling what’s happened between Tuesday and today. Impossible to predict the status of the week’s stories. The Matthean community certainly didn’t know how their story ended either. In the parable of the bridesmaids, Jesus was pushing them and reminding them about what’s important regardless. He was pushing them to encourage their readiness. He was reminding them that he’d given them what they needed to endure what was coming. He was barking at them like a coach before game time so that they’d remember that light needs tending to endure what’s ahead. Jesus’ listeners knew that lamp oil lasts longer when the wicks are trimmed.[6] Back-up oil was needed in the story because the bridegroom’s timing was unpredictable, and every bridesmaid wore out and fell asleep. Waiting for something to change can feel long. Jesus challenged his followers to hang in there and be ready. In this parable, readiness included lamps that are lit with the long game in mind. Preparing the lamp includes a supply of oil and a trimmed wick to keep it burning slow and steady. Jesus’ challenge to his listeners means something about the Christian life over the long haul. For us, as a faith community, it’s a word of life in the midst of this prolonged meantime when we might miss opportunities as we’re tempted to wish this moment away.

My Pops used to warn me against wishing my life away when I was impatient for the next, long-anticipated event. I didn’t really understand what he meant for a good many years. But I hear his voice in my head, when I find myself wishing 2020 away as if 2021 is going to magically be better, as if we could fast-forward to our worship and community life together in person. Alas, fast-forwarding is neither possible nor would it be good news to do so. I’d be wishing away the life, light, and love of today. Also, we’re the church, the light of the world, for the long haul. The Augustana community is our tiny corner of God’s whole church. As the church, we can argue from here until kingdom come about what it looks like to be ready, to keep our lamps trimmed and burning. But Jesus is pretty clear in Matthew’s gospel about what trimming the lamp for the slow and steady burn looks like. We’re given images of the slow and steady burn in the Sermon on the Mount and the crucifixion. Jesus preaches about the meek, the merciful, the pure in heart, the persecuted, and the peacemakers. At the cross, Jesus is vulnerable, non-violent, and self-sacrificing – shining light through the darkness of the darkest moment.

The number of bridesmaids in Matthew’s parable implies that this wedding was a high-status affair. The bridesmaids appear to be more than just friends of the bride as they seem to serve in a necessary role.[7] We could argue that the role is not about works or faith but it’s about the life the beatitudes invites us into – a life centered on the cross that glorifies God, a life that makes it clear that God is the primary actor, the giver of life.[8] A life centered on the cross is a life that knows and endures suffering. Martin Luther names this as the Seventh Mark of the Church. “The holy, Christian Church is outwardly known by the holy possession of the Holy Cross,” he writes.[9] Luther argues that the church endures “hardship…temptation and evil (as the Lord’s Prayer says)…” and “becomes like its head, Christ.”[10]

He goes on to argue that the customs of the church are “necessary and useful…fine and proper” but they are not to be confused with the marks of the church. In this category of customs, he includes “times for preaching and prayer, and the use of church buildings, or houses, altars, pulpits, fonts, lights, candles, bells, vestments, and the like.”[11]  Our Augustana customs do not make us the church – the cross makes us the church.

Jesus’ intensity before his trial and crucifixion is understandable. His preaching in the parable of the bridesmaids is shocking and stark although his word fuels the endurance in his people who will falter, grow weak, fail in readiness, and then regroup to be the light of the world. Dear ones, as one tiny corner of God’s church catholic, we are “in holy possession of the Holy Cross.” There is much to endure in this waiting time but the bridesmaids are the not the end of the story – neither is the pandemic, nor the election.[12] As Jesus is pointed to the cross in this parable, so are we. Pointed to the cross where grace shines in light, where God brings life out of suffering and death. Where, by our baptism, we live “in the light of the cross, in mercy not judgment.”[13]

♬You are the light of the world.

You are the light of the world.

So shine, shine, shine where you are…

You are the light of the world.♬[14]

________________________________________________________

[1] Give a listen to Tangled Blue’s full song here: https://tangledblue.bandcamp.com/track/light-of-the-world (2003). Words and Music by Cathy Pino © Cathy Pino.

[2] Dirk Lange, Assistant General Secretary for Ecumenical Relations, The Lutheran World Federation, Geneva, Switzerland. Commentary on Matthew 25:1-12 for November 9, 2008 on WorkingPreacher.org. https://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=4620

[3] Ibid.

[4] If you get a chance this week, read Matthew 24 and 25. It’s a intensifying crescendo just before Jesus’ trial starts.

[5] Matthew L. Skinner, Professor of New Testament, Luther Seminary. Sermon Brainwave podcast for November 8, 2020. https://www.workingpreacher.org/brainwave.aspx?podcast_id=1309

[6] Rolf Jacobson, Professor of Old Testament, Luther Seminary, St. Paul, MN. Sermon Brainwave podcast for November 8, 2020. https://www.workingpreacher.org/brainwave.aspx?podcast_id=1309

[7] Skinner, ibid.

[8] Lange, ibid.

[9] Martin Luther, Everyone’s Luther: On the Councils and the Church (1539), 244. https://wolfmueller.co/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/Work-on-Councils_100618.pdf

[10] Ibid.

[11] Luther, 257-258.

[12] Pastor Barbara Berry Bailey, St. Paul’s Lutheran Church, Denver, CO.  Discussion on November 3, 2020, in Preacher’s Text Study of Metro East Conference, Rocky Mountain Synod, ELCA.

[13] Lange, ibid.

[14] Give a listen to Tangled Blue’s full song here: https://tangledblue.bandcamp.com/track/light-of-the-world (2003). Words and Music by Cathy Pino © Cathy Pino.

__________________________________________________________________

Sermons

Knowing Enough to Hope [OR Knowing Enough to Be Dangerous] Romans 5:1-8

Caitlin Trussell with Augustana Lutheran Church on June 14, 2020

[sermon begins after Bible reading]

Romans 5:1-8 Therefore, since we are justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, 2 through whom we have obtained access to this grace in which we stand; and we boast in our hope of sharing the glory of God. 3 And not only that, but we also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, 4 and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, 5 and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.

6 For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. 7 Indeed, rarely will anyone die for a righteous person—though perhaps for a good person someone might actually dare to die. 8 But God proves his love for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us.

[sermon begins]

“I know enough to be dangerous.” This is something people say when they don’t know much about a topic but they think that they have a gem to throw in the mix. I’m that way with art. A few trips through museums and suddenly I feel free to wax rhapsodic on Degas and da Vinci. Whatever my failings in knowledge, though, I make up for in enthusiasm. There are times when you look at a masterpiece and the effect is transcendent. For a moment your eye is captured, and your soul is filled with something “other.” Beauty has that effect. Closer to the ground, we’re cresting into late spring. Aspirations of green thumbs abound across many a beating heart while some blooms begin to fade, and heartier ones take their place.

Last week, it was the pale pink peonies that frothed in a profusion of petals. 2020 is a perfect year for them. The right amount of sun and water fell, and the hail didn’t. After my usual hemming and hawing about leaving them outside or bringing them in, I clipped a bouquet and have been enjoying them all week. I posted a picture of them on the media, attempting poetry about “air for the soul.” (Again, I know enough to be dangerous.) The thing about beauty is it reminds us that our humanity is part of something – something both essential and transcendent. For me, this is especially necessary when times are difficult, when everyone seems to know enough to be dangerous and when suffering seems inescapable.

Suffering is a universal human experience. There was plenty of it in my early kid years when my family was blown apart by mental illness and domestic violence. And more, during my years as a pediatric oncology nurse. And more, over time as a pastor. Here’s one of the things I know about suffering from all those years. Suffering cannot be compared. It’s a lot like beauty that way. What’s more beautiful – Degas’ elegant sculpture of “La Petit Danseuse” or the riotous tumble of pink peonies? It’s a ridiculous question. Suffering is similar. Being with someone who is suffering for any reason is NOT a time to get into qualifying their experience, giving a different take on it, or redirecting them to someone else’s experience of suffering. That stuff is the opposite of helpful. Being with someone who is suffering IS a time to listen and to wonder. It’s a time to share their burden by holding space for it without rushing to comfort. Sharing the burden lightens the suffering without imagining that it can be taken away.

Suffering is something the Apostle Paul seems to understand. How often do you suppose he cried out to God withOUT a pen in hand? It must have been a lot given his turn from the one giving punishment to the one on the receiving end of being beaten, stoned, and imprisoned.[1] For him to write about suffering like that, he knew it intimately, like a friend, just like he knew God. Listen again to a few of the verses from his letter to the Roman church.

“Therefore, since we are justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, 2 through whom we have obtained access to this grace in which we stand; and we boast in our hope of sharing the glory of God. 3 And not only that, but we also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, 4 and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, 5 and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.” (Romans 5:1-5)

The Apostle Paul is talking to all of us. One reason his words about suffering resonate so strongly is because he describes what he knows and what we know. And he knows way more than enough to be dangerous. He knows enough to be comforting. Comfort is no small thing. It’s not appeasement – meaning I’m not making you feel better so that I feel better. Comfort is deep knowing shared across our human experience. Most of us have experienced suffering and still we live on. Some of us not so elegantly but still we live. Paul’s account of moving from suffering to endurance to character to hope is a description not a strategy. He describes what we know by faith and experience about how suffering works. There are days in the midst of it that we wonder how it’s possible to make it through. Days in which we’re not sure who we are anymore. And then, in the body of Christ, the church, we’re reminded once again of the main things – God’s promises to us no matter what is happening.

For our congregation, one such moment was Matthias’ baptism in the last couple of weeks. Long on the worship calendar, his baptism on Pentecost couldn’t have been more perfectly timed. Masks and quiet sanctuary notwithstanding, water flowed off Matthias’ head in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. We prayed for the Spirit of wisdom, understanding, knowledge, and joy. And he was sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever. In baptism God promises to be present, to form us as disciples, to always take us back, and to be the eternal One in our lives every day. In baptism, we “have obtained access to this grace on which we stand.” We were buried with Christ in baptism so that we too might live in newness of life. Today. Right now, even in suffering, we are pulled through the cross of Christ.

The cross frames suffering in a different way. The cross promises the presence of God in suffering. We know Jesus’ body broke and died which means that God knows suffering and suffers with us. God’s alignment with our suffering promises endurance through to hope. Hope does not come at the expense of false optimism where we close our eyes and wish everything away. False optimism is knowing enough about hope to be dangerous. Rather, hope comes from being planted at the foot of the cross while awaiting new life and continuing to do the hard work of grieving and the hard work of reconciliation with each other. Simply put, the cross binds us to the hard work of love in the midst of suffering – loving God, loving ourselves, and loving our neighbor in such a time as this. By our baptism, our gracious heavenly Father frees us into hope and forms us into instruments of cross and resurrection in the name of the one who is, who was, and who is to come, Jesus Christ our Lord.[2] Amen and thanks be to God.

And now receive this blessing…

Neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers,

nor things present, nor things to come,

nor powers, nor height, nor depth,

nor anything else in all creation,

will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus.

You are held by God in the name of the Father, ☩ and the Son,

and the Holy Spirit, now and forever.

Amen.

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[1] Acts 7 (when Paul was still Saul); Acts chapters 9, 13, 14, 16, 18, 21, 22, and 23.

[2] A paraphrase of Revelation 1:8

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The Gospel Reading for worship today:

Matthew 9:35-10:8 Then Jesus went about all the cities and villages, teaching in their synagogues, and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom, and curing every disease and every sickness. 36 When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. 37 Then he said to his disciples, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; 38 therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.”

1 Then Jesus summoned his twelve disciples and gave them authority over unclean spirits, to cast them out, and to cure every disease and every sickness. 2 These are the names of the twelve apostles: first, Simon, also known as Peter, and his brother Andrew; James son of Zebedee, and his brother John; 3 Philip and Bartholomew; Thomas and Matthew the tax collector; James son of Alphaeus, and Thaddaeus; 4 Simon the Cananaean, and Judas Iscariot, the one who betrayed him.

5 These twelve Jesus sent out with the following instructions: “Go nowhere among the Gentiles, and enter no town of the Samaritans, 6 but go rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. 7 As you go, proclaim the good news, “The kingdom of heaven has come near.’ 8 Cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out demons. You received without payment; give without payment.