[sermon begins after two long Bible readings–hang in there, they’re worth it]

Ezekiel 37:1-13

John 11:1-45

Now a certain man was ill, Lazarus of Bethany, the village of Mary and her sister Martha. ² Mary was the one who anointed the Lord with perfume and wiped his feet with her hair; her brother Lazarus was ill. ³ So the sisters sent a message to Jesus, “Lord, he whom you love is ill.” ⁴ But when Jesus heard it, he said, “This illness does not lead to death; rather, it is for God’s glory, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it.” ⁵ Accordingly, though Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus, ⁶ after having heard that Lazarus was ill, he stayed two days longer in the place where he was.
⁷ Then after this he said to the disciples, “Let us go to Judea again.” ⁸ The disciples said to him, “Rabbi, the Jews were just now trying to stone you, and are you going there again?” ⁹ Jesus answered, “Are there not twelve hours of daylight? Those who walk during the day do not stumble because they see the light of this world. ¹⁰ But those who walk at night stumble because the light is not in them.” ¹¹ After saying this, he told them, “Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep, but I am going there to awaken him.” ¹² The disciples said to him, “Lord, if he has fallen asleep, he will be all right.” ¹³ Jesus, however, had been speaking about his death, but they thought that he was referring merely to sleep. ¹⁴ Then Jesus told them plainly, “Lazarus is dead. ¹⁵ For your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe. But let us go to him.” ¹⁶ Thomas, who was called the Twin, said to his fellow disciples, “Let us also go, that we may die with him.”

¹⁷ When Jesus arrived, he found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb four days. ¹⁸ Now Bethany was near Jerusalem, some two miles away, ¹⁹ and many of the Jews had come to Martha and Mary to console them about their brother. ²⁰ When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went and met him, while Mary stayed at home. ²¹ Martha said to Jesus, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. ²² But even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask of him.” ²³ Jesus said to her, “Your brother will rise again.” ²⁴ Martha said to him, “I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day.” ²⁵ Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, ²⁶ and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?” ²⁷ She said to him, “Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world.”

²⁸ When she had said this, she went back and called her sister Mary and told her privately, “The Teacher is here and is calling for you.” ²⁹ And when she heard it, she got up quickly and went to him. ³⁰ Now Jesus had not yet come to the village but was still at the place where Martha had met him. ³¹ The Jews who were with her in the house consoling her saw Mary get up quickly and go out. They followed her because they thought that she was going to the tomb to weep there. ³² When Mary came where Jesus was and saw him, she knelt at his feet and said to him, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” ³³ When Jesus saw her weeping and the Jews who came with her also weeping, he was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved. ³⁴ He said, “Where have you laid him?” They said to him, “Lord, come and see.” ³⁵ Jesus began to weep. ³⁶ So the Jews said, “See how he loved him!” ³⁷ But some of them said, “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?”

³⁸ Then Jesus, again greatly disturbed, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone was lying against it. ³⁹ Jesus said, “Take away the stone.” Martha, the sister of the dead man, said to him, “Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead four days.” ⁴⁰ Jesus said to her, “Did I not tell you that if you believed you would see the glory of God?” ⁴¹ So they took away the stone. And Jesus looked upward and said, “Father, I thank you for having heard me. ⁴² I knew that you always hear me, but I have said this for the sake of the crowd standing here, so that they may believe that you sent me.” ⁴³ When he had said this, he cried with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” ⁴⁴ The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, “Unbind him, and let him go.”

⁴⁵ Many of the Jews, therefore, who had come with Mary and had seen what Jesus did believed in him.

[sermon begins]

I recently rewatched the Harry Potter movies, having also read the book series a few times over the years.[1] The magical world-building seen through Harry’s eyes is a wonder to behold, including the Hogwarts school’s carriages that seemingly propel themselves without horse or engine.[2] In the fifth movie we learn that the carriages are pulled by Thestrals, a horse-like winged reptilian creature that can only be seen by someone who has seen death. If you hadn’t seen someone die, then you couldn’t see the Thestrals pulling the carriage. The carriages seem to be pulling themselves. Harry had seen his friend Cedric die at the end of the last movie so Harry could now see these creatures. Seeing his friend die opened his eyes to see something new amid his grief and anger.

Some of us here today know what it’s like to see death, to watch someone’s life leave their body. Mary and Martha certainly did. There was enough time after Lazarus became ill to send word to Jesus. There was more time after the sisters sent word and even more before Jesus finally arrived after Lazarus died. Martha was angry. Mary was miserable. Both were heartbroken and grieving. Both proclaimed their faith in their Lord—if he had been there then Lazarus would not have died. Martha’s confession of faith is one of the big three in John’s gospel along with Peter and Thomas. Martha said to Jesus, “You are the Messiah, the Son of God.” Mary’s faith acts—she kneels at Jesus’ feet and cries. Simultaneous faith and grief. Many verses in the story are given over to grief. Only a couple verses describe the raising of Lazarus.[3] Faith makes space for grief. Some of us know how long those days, hours, and minutes can be while we watch a loved one die. We know the powerlessness, anger, and broken hearts as we wait and watch and pray…as we lose, as grief enshrouds our hearts.

This Bible story about siblings and friends grieving together describes an important truth about people of faith. We make space for grief and we grieve with each other. Just ask our friends who have been through Augustana’s Grief Support Group. Faith in Jesus doesn’t take grief away. Indeed, Jesus’ is greatly disturbed and deeply moved by grief, soul wrenching grief for his friends. And grief maybe even for himself as he knows what’s coming for him and the grief that will bind his friends again when he dies on a cross. The story of Lazarus is as much about Jesus’ humanity as it is about his divinity.

The prophet Ezekiel and his people knew grief, too. 500 years before Jesus, the Babylonians took Ezekiel’s people from southern Israel into far away Babylon. The temple in Jerusalem was God’s dwelling place, but Ezekiel and his people ended up far, far away in a land where their God was not known. They lamented, “Our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost; we are cut off completely.” Ezekiel’s valley of the dry bones goes against Jewish burial custom.[4] It was a mass casualty decimation and there was no one to bury them. Another story of grief but this time it’s one of collective grief. A grief that exemplifies our own when faceless groups people are annihilated by war, bombs, and hunger inflicted by politically powerful people who feel neither the suffering of the dying nor the sting of death themselves.

For Mary, Martha, and Ezekiel, faith and grief walked together. Faith made space for their grief for their brother and their community. Faith didn’t erase grief or explain it away as just the way life works. Sometimes we’re inclined to minimize or feel shame about our own grief. It’s too big. It’s too messy. Or we think that if only we had more faith then we would feel less pain. Or if only someone else had more faith, then their grieving wouldn’t hurt our hearts. These Bible stories are an antidote to such thinking. The faithful people in these stories are the ones who are sad, angry, and ugly-crying. Even Jesus. Even Jesus! The English translation of “Jesus began to weep” doesn’t do justice to the Greek word which means soul-wrenching sobs.[5]

Minimizing grief, whether our own or someone else’s is antithetical to the crescendo of the cross and the silence of the tomb that we are edging toward as Palm Sunday and Holy Week loom on the calendar a week from today. We are treated to whispers of Holy Week in our John reading. Mary’s anointing of Jesus’ feet is remembered to us even though we don’t get to that part of the story until the beginning of the next chapter. Anointing is done for divine kings and for the dead. Jesus’ anointing conflates the two. In verse 25, using yet one more divine “I am” saying, Jesus said, “I AM the resurrection and the life.” In verses 4 and 40 Jesus talks about God’s glory in conjunction with the Son of God being glorified.  When the word “glory” is used in the Gospel of John, it is code for Jesus hanging on the cross. We tend to think all kinds of things when we hear the word “glory” but hanging on a cross is not typically one of them.

It’s common to avoid Lent and Holy Week, to go from the Transfiguration straight to Easter buffered by the mini-Easters of Sundays in Lent. Lent is quiet and grey, culminating in Holy Week that is dark and ends in a tomb. Holy Week runs smack up against our addiction to optimism, smack up against our discomfort with grief, and smack up against our desperation not to look at the ever-so-obvious tomb. But sinking into the depths of Holy Week, focusing on cross and tomb feels like freedom. It feels like freedom because it feels true. There IS pain in the world. Sometimes we cause that pain. Sometimes the pain is inflicted on us. Sometimes we watch helplessly as the pain is inflicted on other people. The relief and truth of Holy Week is enormous. Facing this truth head-on, neither looking away from grief nor blocking out God in the midst of it, reveals what God does when confronted with a tomb. Our journey into the abyss of death and grief places in stark relief an ever more vibrant Easter dawn when the trumpets declare victory over death.

In Ezekiel, God breathes into the decimation, restoring the forgotten dead into community. In John, Jesus raises Lazarus reconnecting him with his community. In the tomb of Lazarus, lays a man who’s about to walk again.  Jesus tells him to come out. Lazarus comes out. His disorientation must be staggering. Jesus looks at the people and says, “Unbind him.” These people had a role in his unbinding. Jesus gave them work to do to welcome him.[6] Among the people who unbind Lazarus are surely many who loved him or at least knew him. The moment reveals that “resurrected life needs a community.”[7]

Raising Lazarus is Jesus’ final sign before the execution plot unfolds. A sign of life that declares his divinity and incites his execution. The people are ready to crucify because they fear that the one who brings life might get noticed by the powers that be in Rome and bring death to them all. As Holy Week whispers to us from the faraway place of next week, we pause with the crowd of people who unbind Lazarus. We, like them, wonder about the power that can resurrect. The power that can draw unwanted attention. Lazarus isn’t the only one standing there dazed and disoriented.

As we the people acknowledge the mercy of God, we see the fullness of life that God pours through us as we grieve and celebrate life. We see the Christ, the Word made flesh. We see each other receiving the Spirit who breathes life into our bodies – here, now, today, with these people whom Jesus calls to help unbind us as we are called into resurrected life. Thanks be to God and amen!

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[1] Link to IMDB: Harry Potter Movies

[2] Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (2007) – IMDb

[3] Karoline Lewis, Professor of Homiletics, Luther Seminary, St. Paul, MN. Lectionary Discussion for 3/22/26. #1074: Fifth Sunday in Lent – March 22, 2026 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

[4] Cody J. Sanders, Associate Professor, Luther Seminary, St. Paul, MN. Lectionary Discussion for 3/22/26. #1074: Fifth Sunday in Lent – March 22, 2026 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

[5] Matt Skinner, Professor of New Testament, Luther Seminary, St. Paul, MN. Lectionary Discussion for 3/22/26. #1074: Fifth Sunday in Lent – March 22, 2026 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

[6] Laura Holmes, Professor of New Testament, Wesley Theological Seminary, Washington D.C. Commentary on John 11:1-45 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

[7] Ibid.

[sermon begins after two Bible readings – see the third one at the end of the sermon]

Luke 23:33-43 When they came to the place that is called The Skull, they crucified Jesus there with the criminals, one on his right and one on his left. ³⁴ [[Then Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.”]] And they cast lots to divide his clothing. ³⁵ And the people stood by watching, but the leaders scoffed at him, saying, “He saved others; let him save himself if he is the Messiah of God, his chosen one!” ³⁶ The soldiers also mocked him, coming up and offering him sour wine ³⁷ and saying, “If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself!” ³⁸ There was also an inscription over him, “This is the King of the Jews.”
³⁹ One of the criminals who were hanged there kept deriding him and saying, “Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!” ⁴⁰ But the other rebuked him, saying, “Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? ⁴¹ And we indeed have been condemned justly, for we are getting what we deserve for our deeds, but this man has done nothing wrong.” ⁴² Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come in your kingdom.” ⁴³ He replied, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.”

Jeremiah 23:1-6 Woe to the shepherds who destroy and scatter the sheep of my pasture! says the Lord. ² Therefore thus says the Lord, the God of Israel, concerning the shepherds who shepherd my people: It is you who have scattered my flock and have driven them away, and you have not attended to them. So I will attend to you for your evil doings, says the Lord. ³ Then I myself will gather the remnant of my flock out of all the lands where I have driven them, and I will bring them back to their fold, and they shall be fruitful and multiply. ⁴ I will raise up shepherds over them who will shepherd them, and they shall no longer fear or be dismayed, nor shall any be missing, says the Lord.
⁵ The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will raise up for David a righteous Branch, and he shall reign as king and deal wisely and shall execute justice and righteousness in the land. ⁶ In his days Judah will be saved, and Israel will live in safety. And this is the name by which he will be called: “The Lord is our righteousness.”

[sermon begins]

“When the sun shines, we shine together
Told you I’ll be here forever
Said I’ll always be your friend
Took an oath, I’ma stick it out to the end.
Now that it’s raining more than ever
Know that we’ll still have each other
You can stand under my umbrella.”[1]

I know some of you can keep singing that song with or without me but let’s try to focus. Terius “The-Dream” Nash, co-writer of Rihanna’s song “Umbrella” said that it “originally came to him as a metaphor for God’s unconditional protection reflected in the chorus of the song.”[2] While the song clearly morphed from those pious beginnings, it’s also possible that Terius knows the ancient Swedish proverb, “Shared joy is double joy, and shared sorrow is half sorrow.” Both “Umbrella” and the Swedish proverb shine a light on empathy. When you share my joy, it’s as if joy expands. When I feel sad and you’re with me, I may still be sad but I’m less alone which can make the sorrow less threatening.

It’s not every Sunday that you get a mash up of Rihanna and an ancient Swedish proverb, but here we are on Christ the King Sunday. Even the title of Christ the King strikes a discordant note in a Sunday worship service. We don’t do kings. Especially as Americans. A Revolutionary War was fought to separate from the tyranny of King George III. Even so, Christ the King Sunday is a relatively new holy day in the church. Almost exactly 100 years ago, there was a Catholic Pope, Pius XI, concerned about the rise of fascism in Spain, communism in Russia, antisemitism presaging nazism in Germany, and secularism in the West.[3] So seductive were these -isms, they captured the imagination of faithful Christians who decided God was on their side. Pope Pius XI spotlighted the Lordship of Jesus to refocus the faithful in 1925. Lutherans adopted the Christ the King celebration in the 1970s. That’s pretty much yesterday in the grand sweep of 2,000 years of church history.

Christ the King Sunday now ends our church year. It’s a New Year’s Eve for church types. As we wrap up this church year, the Biblical texts for Christ the King Sunday include: the prophet Jeremiah’s proclamation of the Lord’s promise to raise up a wise, just, and righteous king; the book of Colossians’ image of Jesus before all things and also in whose kingdom we are made subjects through redemption and the forgiveness of sins: and lastly the Gospel of Luke’s story of Jesus hanging on the cross under the inscription, “King of the Jews.”

I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that most of us don’t have firsthand experience living under a king’s reign. We know them in theory, in history, and in fabled story. The prophet Jeremiah knew three or four actual kings. Those kings were not taking care of the people. Jeremiah meant the kings of Judah when he wrote, “Woe to the shepherds who destroy and scatter the sheep of my pasture! says the LORD.” In the ancient near east, shepherd was a typical metaphor for king.[4] The Lord’s intention was to raise a shepherd from the line of King David, the line from which Jesus was born 600 years after Jeremiah wrote.

The line from which this long-promised shepherd is hanging from a cross. A King. On a cross. For the disciples, Jesus’ crucifixion was proof that the kingdom hadn’t come. Their guy and their side had lost.[5] Crucifixion was how Rome controlled the empire. You didn’t have to actually be a criminal. Rome criminalized a lot of people and hung them on crosses.[6] The empire secured their power through fear. Jesus’ death on the cross was a consequence for how he lived the last three years of his life and what he taught.[7] But it was also more than that. I mean, I didn’t sing Rihanna at the beginning of this sermon for nothing. As she sang about shining together before it started raining more than ever, she’s singing about the joy and pain of life. The great mystery of suffering finds one answer in the crucified king which is God’s solidarity with us in our suffering.[8] That’s the kind of king that’s interesting. A king of compassion and mercy who says things like Jesus, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”[9] A king not interested in power over all others. A king who empties himself in service to the world.

Years ago, when I was dipping my toe back into church after ten years away, one thing was essential and that was figuring out where suffering fits in this life. It sounds silly to say that out loud. Brilliant theologians and philosophers haven’t been able to answer the question of why suffering exists although Lord knows they’ve tried. As a pediatric oncology nurse, I saw suffering that should not exist. As a six-year-old child, I had a loving father who could no longer parent because of extreme mental illness. A brilliant father who became homeless because of a brain that could not work. I needed a way to understand a loving God, if my own father’s love wasn’t enough to overcome his illness. The cross is one way to experience God’s presence in the midst of suffering, not the cause of it. A way of understanding God suffering with us because God knows suffering personally in Jesus on the cross. The cross may be insufficient in the experience of suffering in real time. But real suffering can find comfort in the shadow of the cross.

The cross is part of Christ the King Sunday but it’s not the whole story. Jesus said to the criminal hanging next to him, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.” Jesus’ promise makes all the difference between the kingdoms of this world based on force or wealth and the kingdom of God based on cross and resurrection.[10] The shepherd who gives life and leads in love is the Lord we follow and confess. Whose kingship compels our hearts, minds, and lives into the reign of God on earth, over and above the pull of power in the world.[11] Not a bad idea given the timeless appeal of trading grace and love of neighbor for earthly power.

On this Christian New Year’s Eve, we are on the cusp of a new church year that begins next Sunday with Advent. During Advent, we await the sweet baby Jesus’ birth. A child who grew up showing us a different Way to live. A way to shine together and protect each other from the rain. Sharing joy and shouldering sorrow with each other. A way of grace, hope, and love so subversive that it threatens the powerful who would have us fear each other. Jesus the Christ was vulnerable, non-violent, self-sacrificing, and died on the cross. He was resurrected into Christ the King who shepherds us on the Way of Jesus. Happy Church New Year everyone. This is good news indeed!

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[1] Umbrella lyrics: Rihanna Umbrella (feat. JAY-Z) Lyrics – Search

[2] Nya Etienne. The Real Meaning Behind Rihanna’s Smash Hit Song Umbrella (The List: August 12, 2023). The real meaning behind Rihanna’s smash hit song Umbrella

[3] Frank C. Senn. The Not-So-Ancient Origins of Christ the King Sunday. Lutheran Forum. November 11, 2017. https://www.lutheranforum.com/blog/2017/11/11/the-not-so-ancient-origins-of-christ-the-king-sunday

[4] Rolf Jacobson, Professor of Old Testament, Lutheran Seminary, Saint Paul, MN. Podcast commentary for November 23, 2025. #1053: Christ the King – November 23, 2025 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

[4] Skinner, ibid.

[5] N.T. Wright. Surprised by Hope (New York: HarperCollins, 2008), 40

[6] Matt Skinner, Professor of New Testament, Lutheran Seminary, Saint Paul, MN. Podcast commentary for November 23, 2025. #1053: Christ the King – November 23, 2025 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

[7] Skinner, ibid.

[8] John Paul II. Crossing the Threshold of Hope. (Alfred Knopf: New York, 1994), 63.

[9] Luke 23:24

[10] N.T. Wright, ibid.

[11] Lucy Lind Hogan, Hugh Latimer Elderdice Professor of Preaching and Worship, Wesley Theological Seminary, Washington D.C.  Commentary on John 18:33-37 for November 25, 2018.   https://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=3885 AND Frank C. Senn, 2007. Lutheran Forum  The Not-So-Ancient Origins of Christ the King Sunday — Lutheran Forum

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Colossians 1:11-20  May you be made strong with all the strength that comes from his glorious power, so that you may have all endurance and patience, joyfully ¹² giving thanks to the Father, who has enabled you to share in the inheritance of the saints in the light. ¹³ He has rescued us from the power of darkness and transferred us into the kingdom of his beloved Son, ¹⁴ in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.

¹⁵ He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation, ¹⁶ for in him all things in heaven and on earth were created, things visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or powers—all things have been created through him and for him. ¹⁷ He himself is before all things, and in him all things hold together. ¹⁸ He is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, so that he might come to have first place in everything. ¹⁹ For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, ²⁰ and through him God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of his cross.

**sermon art: Unction of Christ by Maria Stankova

Pastor Kent Mueller along with Caitlin Trussell with Augustana Lutheran Church on April 6, 2025

Kent Mueller talks about his wife Elizabeth’s life and death five years ago. He asked me to preach it with him as someone who was present for both.

You may watch the sermon preached here at minute 30:27:

Sunday Service – 04/06/2025 – Augustana Lutheran Church Denver

[sermon begins after Bible reading]

John 12:1-8  Six days before the Passover Jesus came to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. ² There they gave a dinner for him. Martha served, and Lazarus was one of those at the table with him. ³ Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus’ feet, and wiped them with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume. ⁴ But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (the one who was about to betray him), said, ⁵ “Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?” ⁶ (He said this not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief; he kept the common purse and used to steal what was put into it.) ⁷ Jesus said, “Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial. ⁸ You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.”

[sermon begins]

PASTOR KENT: 

In our Church Year we have one particular day set aside for honesty about mortality. And you might be thinking: “Why Good Friday of course, when Jesus died on the cross.” No. It’s Ash Wednesday. It is the day that we speak the truth of our frailty. Our vulnerability. Our mortality.  

Ashes are what is left when the life itself is gone. And on Ash Wednesday we smear an ashen cross on our forehead, making visible the cross that was anointed with oil at baptism—when the waters of baptism wash over us and we are named as a child of God. Ash Wednesday is our ritual of honesty, symbolizing that beginning and endings, that life and death. Are entwined together. 

PASTOR CAITLIN: 

I had been in contact with an Augustana family through the years as the mother’s health issues mounted. Her heart failure was more and more serious, such that she was approved for a heart transplant. It was August 26, 2019, when they got the call late at night that the gift of a heart was now available. There is no hiding from mortality when getting such a phone call. 

The heart transplant took place the next day, and it was a resounding success, with healing and recovery on the way. They had hope again! It was a miracle brought about through astonishing medical technology… but made possible only by the death of another. There are no words for such gratitude. 

PASTOR KENT: 

Endings and beginnings. Death and Life. Together. 

But as a people, a culture, we aren’t very comfortable with mortality. You would think that we’d be better at it, as people of faith. But American culture prizes youth, and health, and productivity. And we have medicalized mortality. The point of our medical institutions is to keep someone alive. Aging and death are seen as failures rather than natural transitions, making it difficult to openly discuss or accept mortality. And then when death comes, we are unprepared, anxious, even afraid.  

Contrast this with the death of Jesus, when he was taken down from the cross by Joseph of Arimathea. And Nicodemus brought a mixture of myrrh and aloes for preparing the body. Since Jesus had died shortly before the Sabbath, they had to prepare his body hastily, and the women who followed Jesus planned to return after the Sabbath to finish anointing him properly. 

Today’s Gospel text from John, then, is a foreshadowing of Jesus’ body being prepared for burial. Mary anointing Jesus’ feet with costly perfume and wiping them with her hair is an act of devotion, a gesture of love, and—whether Mary fully understood it or not—a preparation for Jesus’ death and burial. 

PASTOR CAITLIN: 

For several months, the heart transplant recovery continued slowly and deliberately with a program of cardiac rehabilitation, designed to strengthen the heart and the body. But then, something wasn’t right. Recovery progress plateaued, followed by problems with memory and balance. Five months after the heart transplant, she was hospitalized to try and figure out what was happening.  Hope was slipping away, and the pastors and parish nurse took turns to go to the hospital, to visit, to pray.  To be an embodied presence of the prayers lifted by the Augustana community. 

PASTOR KENT: 

Beginnings and endings. Life and death. Together. 

Mary’s anointing in today’s scripture echoes an ancient, sacred practice—preparing the body for burial. In the Jewish tradition, the body was washed, perfumed, and wrapped in linen before being laid to rest.  Anointing was an act of reverence, a final blessing, a way to prepare the body for its return to the earth and its journey with God. Most other faith practices include such rituals—Islamic families wash their dead, Jewish burial societies purify, Hindus use sacred oils and water. 

These practices allow for a tangible, intimate, embodied confrontation with death, offering healing. Love.  Closure. By turning away from such rituals in our time, we have lost the profound and sacred act of caring for loved ones, and the communal embrace of shared grief—a farewell where hands and hearts meet in healing. 

PASTOR CAITLIN: 

After several weeks in the hospital, she was transported to Denver Hospice. A family member asked that I be prepared to come there after the time of death to lead prayers and a ritual of washing and anointing. I gathered together a bag of items to be ready at a moment’s notice day or night: A bowl for warm water, a few cloths and towels for ritual washing, oil for anointing, some candles. And we waited for death to come. 

PASTOR KENT: 

Endings and beginnings. Death and Life. Together. 

I asked Pastor Caitilin to tell this story, as I knew I wouldn’t be able to tell it myself. Because her story is my story. 

For five years now, I’ve wondered if there might be a time, when I could share this story, which now concludes with a Rite for Preparing the Body for Burial. I would not have known to consider this ritual, had my brother not told me about it.  He’s a pastor in Chicago, and he knew of this liturgy, which is not found within our official Lutheran worship books. (What does that say about our comfort with mortality and death?) 

I’m sharing this story today because it’s not the American way of death.  So that you might become familiar with these words and actions–– rituals––that honor the mortal body that we are in life and in death. And that proclaim that God’s love is eternal, beyond our beginning and endings, in life and in death.

PASTOR CAITLIN: 

Kent called me midafternoon on March 11, 2020. Elizabeth had died.  I was here in the office and made my way the short distance to Denver Hospice over on the Lowry campus. In Elizabeth’s room, we filled the bowl with water, opened the oil, and lit the candles. We began with a prayer of preparation… 

• We come to this moment in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. We come surrounded by the saints who have done this work before us.
• When Jesus was preparing for his own death, he knelt down and washed the feet of his disciples and then taught them to wash one another.
• And on the way to Jerusalem, Mary the sister of Martha anointed Jesus with costly perfume.
• Prepare us, cleansing spirit. 

Then, as they played music, they ritually washed and anointed Elizabeth’s body as named in these holy blessings: 

• Over her eyes: All that Elizabeth’s eyes have seen in this life, O God, we commend to you.
• Over her ears: All that Elizabeth’s ears have heard in this life, O God, we commend to you.
• Over her mouth: All that Elizabeth’s tongue has tasted and all the words that her mouth has spoken in this life, O God, we commend to you.
• Over her hands: All the work that Elizabeth’s hands have done in this life, O God, we commend to you. 
• Over her feet: All the journeys of Elizabeth’s pilgrimage on this earth, O God, we commend to you.
• Over her forehead: This life, baptized into Christ’s death and resurrection, O God, we commend to you. You belong to Christ, in whom you have been baptized.  Amen 

Hymn during the anointing:

There Is a Longing

Hymn after the sermon:

Holy Woman, Graceful Giver ACS 1002

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Sources and resources 

• Rites for Preparing the Body for Burial by Pastor Rebekkah Lohrmann 
• https://sylviaschroeder.com/why-did-mary-anoint jesus-for-his-burial-before-he-died/ 
• h”ps://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised common-lec8onary/fifth-sunday-in-lent-3/commentary on-john-121-8-2 
• h”p://words.dancingwiththeword.com/2016/03/the annoin8ng.html 
• Any Body There? by Craig Mueller
  

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.

Caitlin Trussell with Augustana Lutheran Church on June 16, 2024

[sermon begins after two Bible readings]

Mark 4:26-34 [Jesus] said, “The kingdom of God is as if someone would scatter seed on the ground,²⁷and would sleep and rise night and day, and the seed would sprout and grow, he does not know how. ²⁸The earth produces of itself, first the stalk, then the head, then the full grain in the head. ²⁹But when the grain is ripe, at once he goes in with his sickle, because the harvest has come.”
³⁰He also said, “With what can we compare the kingdom of God, or what parable will we use for it? ³¹It is like a mustard seed, which, when sown upon the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth; ³²yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes the greatest of all shrubs, and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade.”
³³With many such parables he spoke the word to them, as they were able to hear it; ³⁴he did not speak to them except in parables, but he explained everything in private to his disciples.

2 Corinthians 5:6-10, 13-17 So we are always confident; even though we know that while we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord—⁷for we walk by faith, not by sight. ⁸Yes, we do have confidence, and we would rather be away from the body and at home with the Lord. ⁹So whether we are at home or away, we make it our aim to please him. ¹⁰For all of us must appear before the judgment seat of Christ, so that each may receive recompense for what has been done in the body, whether good or evil.
¹⁴For the love of Christ urges us on, because we are convinced that one has died for all; therefore all have died. ¹⁵And he died for all, so that those who live might live no longer for themselves, but for him who died and was raised for them.
¹⁶From now on, therefore, we regard no one from a human point of view; even though we once knew Christ from a human point of view, we know him no longer in that way. ¹⁷So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new!

[sermon begins]

I’d been joking that my Installation to Senior Pastor last week was a little like praying over a potluck after we’d started eating. After the fact, I think that was a little glib on my part. That morning, I had butterflies in my stomach. Sure, there were logistics to worry about – nothing like having my installation at the same time as the Greek Orthodox festival two doors down that would make parking a premium. (A big shout out to Jordan, Max, John, and Craig who served as parking greeters at our lots that day.) But the butterflies weren’t about logistics. They were about the new call between us as congregation and pastor. While there’s been trust between us, developed over the past 11 years, it will take time to develop trust anew. A few weeks ago, I said something similar to the staff – that they know me in my former role but we’re all getting to know each other in my new role. I’d been thoughtful since Pastor Ann’s retirement about both the authority that I had and the authority that I didn’t have during that transition. I was also clear that I was neither auditioning nor campaigning while the Call Committee and I interviewed each other behind the scenes. I was reassured by the shift that the Call Committee themselves made during those interviews about how pastor and congregation could reimagine our partnership anew. No small feat after 11 years together. The butterflies in my stomach embodied that reality.

Actual butterfly insects are a symbol of resurrection, a symbol of God doing something new when the way forward is unclear. And we ARE a resurrection people in unclear times in the wider church and in the world. How handy that the Second Corinthians reading reminds us that we walk by faith and not by sight…urged on by the love of Christ…living not for ourselves but for him who died and was raised for us. It has been said about pastors that loving God is the only way to serve the church over time because people can be hard to love. I would tweak that slightly to say about the church (not just its pastors) that loving Jesus is the only way to serve the world over time because people, all of us, can be hard to love.

In preparation for my Installation, Bishop Jim Gonia asked me to pick scripture for the service and to tell him why I picked it. As Bishop preached last weekend, he highlighted my scripture choices and remembered my words, “I love Jesus and I love the church enough to spend time using my gifts and leading in this way.” I’m repeating it in my sermon today because I want you to hear it from me. “I love Jesus and I love the church enough to spend time using my gifts and leading in this way.” Different people in the congregation have asked me over the past month why I’m doing this, why did I take this call? Embedded in their questions echoes Pastor Karen’s opening sermon line from the Mark reading last Sunday, “Are you out of your mind?!” Her preaching spotlighted our identity as the resurrected body of Christ and that we are to be of Jesus’ mind. Truly though, we can only hope that we are of Jesus’ mind as we begin this new partnership between pastor and congregation. I know that I wouldn’t be doing it otherwise.

Which brings me to the two parable stories that Jesus tells in the gospel according to Mark. Jesus tells these two stories so quickly that we almost miss them. And they are gems that shine hope throughout the whole of Mark’s gospel. At first blush, the first story is really NOT a very good story.[1] Someone plants a seed. The seed grows. No one knows how. In Mark’s gospel, no one ever knows what’s going on or what to do. The disciples bumble around. There are three endings to the gospel and an academic debate about which one is correct. (See Mark 16.) But this little parable in Mark 4 shines a light on the mystery. Oh, it’s still a mystery. But the good news is that we get to call it a mystery. The problem may be that we want an answer. But that problem is ours. It’s not the parables’ problem, not Jesus’ problem, and certainly not God’s problem. The mystery is our problem. We’re just not that powerful and all we have to do is watch a plant grow to remember that we control very little. The mystery of God’s kingdom is that it will have its way. The relief IS the mystery. God’s kingdom does not depend on our righteousness or insight.[2]

The second parable is like the first but in the greatest of all shrubs we get to sing along with the birds nesting in its shade – nesting ancient images of the tree of life within the cross itself. Perhaps we could joke about planting a new church called “Greatest of all Shrubs Lutheran Church.” The greatest of all shrubs paints a humble picture of the absurd, audacious, and awe-inspiring kingdom that adheres to God’s imagination and not our own. Who are we to question the gifts and promise of God’s imagination? Yet we do it all the time.

Here’s one example. There are those of us who celebrate our queer siblings in Christ as God’s creations in God’s own image, trusting that God knows God’s purposes even when God’s people struggle with how many ways there are to be human and different from each other. The church has damaged queer folks for centuries, at best ostracizing and at worst killing. I’m pretty sure Jesus’ teaching to love your neighbor as yourself, the second greatest commandment after loving God, the two commandments on which “hang all the Law and the Prophets,” I’m pretty sure Jesus didn’t state an exemption clause for such murderous and mal-intent against our queer neighbors.[3] Making amends includes our congregations’ invitations to various church-sponsored Pride events. I hope some of you can go. More than making amends is celebrating our queer friends, family, and church members as wonders of creation along with the rest of humankind.[4]

As we wrestle with scripture, our namesake Martin Luther laid down some guidance about the Bible, prioritizing scripture that points us to Christ. He compared scripture to the manger that holds the Christ child – a splinter here, a bent nail there, but cradles the baby Jesus perfectly. This perspective rescues the faithful from making the Bible an idol, or viewing it as a science or history textbook, or as a newspaper…you get the idea. This means that not every word in the Bible is equal to every other word. The Bible’s content is weighted in favor of Christ and him crucified which also means that Jesus teaching about the first and second greatest commandment to love God and love our neighbor as ourselves bear the weight of all the Law and the Prophets. That’s the priority for all faithful people including queer faithful people.

I’ve always thought of myself as a courageous person. Oh sure, I’ve had foibles, fears and phobias but, when it came down to it, I thought that I was of good courage to say the hard things and to do the hard things. I was wrong. Recently I said to my family systems coach that I’m “differently courageous after cancer, chemo, and complete remission.” Like any good counselor, he asked me to say more. Oddly, I really can’t explain it all that well. I may melt down about getting things done in the time available, but the fearlessness in doing the things feels like the transforming love of God. There’s a clarity to knowing that we’re just not that powerful, that human fragility is true, that the limits of knowledge are true, and that we need each other as humankind on this small blue dot in an otherwise uninhabitable universe.

More importantly, God so loved this small blue dot that God showed up in Jesus to show us how to live and how to love. No human is above any other human in God’s love. The grace of God transforms and directs us by God’s will. Our congregation, dare we say a mere shrub branch, is a place to sing in the shade, a place where God’s creatures rest from labor and danger while we celebrate the goodness of our creator revealed in ourselves and our fellow creatures. It’s as Pauline as it gets in Second Corinthians when our human point of view is subsumed by Christ’s point of view. “For the love of Christ urges us on because we are convinced that One has died for all…And he died for all, so that those who live might no longer live for themselves but for him who died and was raised for them.”

May our courage be humbled and enlivened by the faith of Christ. Amen.

______________________________________________

[1] Matt Skinner, Professor of New Testament, Luther Seminary, St. Paul, MN. Sermon Brainwave podcast for June 16, 2024. #969: Fourth Sunday after Pentecost (Ord. 11B) – June 16, 2024 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

[2] Ibid.

[3] Matthew 22:37-40

[4] Genesis 1:26 – Then God said, “Let us make humankind in our image, according to our likeness…”

Caitlin Trussell with Augustana Lutheran Church on November 19, 2023

[sermon begins after one Bible reading – see end of sermon for the Zephaniah reading]

Matthew 25:15-30 [Jesus said to the disciples:] ¹⁴“For it is as if a man, going on a journey, summoned his slaves and entrusted his property to them; ¹⁵to one he gave five talents, to another two, to another one, to each according to his ability. Then he went away. ¹⁶The one who had received the five talents went off at once and traded with them, and made five more talents. ¹⁷In the same way, the one who had the two talents made two more talents. ¹⁸But the one who had received the one talent went off and dug a hole in the ground and hid his master’s money. ¹⁹After a long time the master of those slaves came and settled accounts with them. ²⁰Then the one who had received the five talents came forward, bringing five more talents, saying, ‘Master, you handed over to me five talents; see, I have made five more talents.’ ²¹His master said to him, ‘Well done, good and trustworthy slave; you have been trustworthy in a few things, I will put you in charge of many things; enter into the joy of your master.’ ²²And the one with the two talents also came forward, saying, ‘Master, you handed over to me two talents; see, I have made two more talents.’ ²³His master said to him, ‘Well done, good and trustworthy slave; you have been trustworthy in a few things, I will put you in charge of many things; enter into the joy of your master.’ ²⁴Then the one who had received the one talent also came forward, saying, ‘Master, I knew that you were a harsh man, reaping where you did not sow, and gathering where you did not scatter seed; ²⁵so I was afraid, and I went and hid your talent in the ground. Here you have what is yours.’ ²⁶But his master replied, ‘You wicked and lazy slave! You knew, did you, that I reap where I did not sow, and gather where I did not scatter? ²⁷Then you ought to have invested my money with the bankers, and on my return I would have received what was my own with interest. ²⁸So take the talent from him, and give it to the one with the ten talents. ²⁹For to all those who have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance; but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away. ³⁰As for this worthless slave, throw him into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.’ ”

[sermon begins]

As gospel writers go, Matthew weaves subtlety with shock value which can make it hard to see his point. Matthew begins his gospel with a mind-numbing list of names that add up to fourteen generations of Jesus’ ancestors.[1] No angels, shepherds, or manger in his story, that’s for sure. Yet, if your attention drifts away from the names even for a moment, you’d miss major plot twists, including a woman who wasn’t born Jewish and a woman who was a prostitute. Our 21^st century minds aren’t shocked but our 1^st century friends may have been. In our Matthew reading today, the opposite happened. Our ancient friends may have been lulled into complacency by the trope of a powerful person trusting their underlings as a test of character.[2] These stories were common in the first century as regular people had a chance to shine. Jesus subtly wove this well-known trope with the shock value of an enormous amount of money, a talent was 15 years of wages, and the fearful slave who buried his talent, having nothing to show the master when he came back from his journey, and was thrown into the outer darkness. The man who went on a journey was excessive in money and trust.

What is a Jesus follower to make of his last few teachings in Matthew’s gospel? Each parable tops the last. Next Sunday, they’ll crescendo in intensity. Jesus was wound up tighter than a ranting Bronco fan. Although let’s give Jesus the benefit of the doubt, shall we? These intense parables continue to escalate because time was running out. He was about to be arrested. I wonder how desperate Jesus was for his disciples to understand his urgency. Things were about to get as real as they were horrific. Still, Jesus’ teaching was first about how generous the man was, how much he wanted to share with his slaves, and how much he trusted them to carry on his work in his absence. The man’s excessive expectation inspired the first two slaves into action and froze the last one in fear. Remember the limits of parable. These parabolic stories only take us so far in teasing apart God’s action in Jesus and in the world. It’s highly likely that Jesus’ parable of the talents is meant more to inspire us than to make us afraid. Fear is not freedom and is not consistent with Jesus’ message in Matthew in which he says many times, “Do not be afraid.” Fear doesn’t get anyone anywhere especially in the kingdom of God that Jesus said is about mercy.

Two weeks ago, we heard Jesus’ teaching on the nine Beatitudes.[3] He began each Beatitude with “Blessed are…” and he shocked his listeners by listing experiences that don’t seem at all blessed and connecting them with mercy, comfort, and the kingdom of heaven. (This is another example of the subtlety and shock value of Matthew’s gospel.) Today’s parable invites action by the journeying man’s abundance not anger. In the verses after our parable today, the ones for next Sunday, Jesus doubles down on God’s mission of mercy. And God’s mercy doesn’t have time for fear. Fear gets us nowhere.

Last Thursday, I was part of a Multi Faith Leadership Forum conversation with about 20 other faith leaders. Jews, Muslims, Christians, and more, spoke carefully and honestly about our own emotions and thoughts about October 7 and the Hamas attack that victimized innocent Israeli men, women and children – mostly Jews but also people from other places – and about the Israeli military response that victimizes innocent Palestinian men, women, and children. Words are failing them. Our collective words are failing them and have been failing them. So much so that violence is increasing in our own country and in our own city against Jews, Muslims, and Arabs. While many are demonstrating and while many others are protesting, words continue to fail.

I myself love words and I struggle to find the right ones as adults and children and families continue to fall and to be afraid. I have Jewish family and friends. I have Palestinian friends and colleagues. I am no fan of the current Israeli government. I am no fan of Hamas. Sides are being taken and demanded. But still, there are Israeli and Palestinian families of the fallen who are searching for a way beyond sides. There are other Palestinian-Israeli groups looking for a way beyond sides. There are multi faith leaders who are searching for a way beyond sides. And in today’s reading, I hear Jesus tell a story, a parable, about a man whose generosity inspires some and whose trust terrifies others. One interpretation of this parable is that Jesus’ mission of mercy is meant to expand, not to be buried in the ground.

It’s in that spirit that Augustana is hosting a service for the multi faith community. As words fail, we are invited to create a sacred space with our shared humanity across religious and political differences. This service was generated by conversations with faith leaders and lay people – Jews, Muslims, and Christians – who are in pain, grieving, and unable to see a way forward from war to peace, from death to life, from despair to hope. Their feedback supported the attempt of such a service, recognizing that any effort to hold space for everyone’s grief and humanity will be insufficient for some. Invitations to this service are between faith leaders and their communities. No publicity. No livestream. Only people and presence. You’re invited. As words fail us, we’ll gather in the silence of our shared presence and in the presence of God. This building, the quiet, the music, and the candles are merely a container for the heartbroken and for the determined to hold space for our shared humanity made in the image of God.

Last Sunday, Pastor Gail mentioned compassion fatigue. Compassion fatigue is real. Our fragile bodies aren’t built to feel the feels about everything that’s happening in the world all at the same time. That’s a fast track to despair. Neither are we to be complacent in the suffering, to shrug off another human’s pain, to hide from suffering or to bury our heads in the ground as if it doesn’t exist. The reading from the prophet Zephaniah is the only reading we ever get from this prophet’s small book in the minor prophets of the Old Testament. There’s a great line about God’s frustration with God’s people in which the Prophet Zephaniah accuses the people who “rest complacently on their dregs.” Jesus’ way of mercy resists complacency and self-righteousness.

Jesus asks his followers to risk within and beyond the Christian freedom and abundance we’ve been given as his body in the world for the sake of the world. May God give us light to see the way, courage to take a risk, and trust in the love that transforms death into life. Thanks be to God. And amen.

_________________________________________________

[1] Matthew 1:1-15

[2] Matt Skinner, Professor of New Testament, Luther Seminary, St. Paul, MN. Commentary on the Bible readings for November 19, 2023. Sermon Brainwave Podcast. workingpreacher.org/podcasts/932-25th-sunday-after-pentecost-ord-33a-nov-19-2023

[3] Matthew 5:1-12

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Zephaniah 1:7, 12-18

⁷Be silent before the Lord God!
For the day of the Lord is at hand;
the Lord has prepared a sacrifice,
he has consecrated his guests.

¹²At that time I will search Jerusalem with lamps,
and I will punish the people
who rest complacently on their dregs,
those who say in their hearts,
“The Lord will not do good,
nor will he do harm.”
¹³Their wealth shall be plundered,
and their houses laid waste.
Though they build houses,
they shall not inhabit them;
though they plant vineyards,
they shall not drink wine from them.

¹⁴The great day of the Lord is near,
near and hastening fast;
the sound of the day of the Lord is bitter,
the warrior cries aloud there.
¹⁵That day will be a day of wrath,
a day of distress and anguish,
a day of ruin and devastation,
a day of darkness and gloom,
a day of clouds and thick darkness,
¹⁶a day of trumpet blast and battle cry
against the fortified cities
and against the lofty battlements.

¹⁷I will bring such distress upon people
that they shall walk like the blind;
because they have sinned against the Lord,
their blood shall be poured out like dust,
and their flesh like dung.
¹⁸Neither their silver nor their gold
will be able to save them
on the day of the Lord’s wrath;
in the fire of his passion
the whole earth shall be consumed;
for a full, a terrible end
he will make of all the inhabitants of the earth.

Pastor Caitlin Trussell with Augustana Lutheran church on November 5, 2023

[sermon begins after the Bible reading – the 1 John reading is at the end of the sermon]

This Bible reading is often called “The Beatitudes” for the “Blessed.” My sermon is written in beatitude form – beginning with the concerns of the world and shifting to words of comfort…

Matthew 5:1-12 When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain; and after he sat down, his disciples came to him. ²Then he began to speak, and taught them, saying:
³“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
⁴“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
⁵“Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.
⁶“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.
⁷“Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.
⁸“Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.
⁹“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.
¹⁰“Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
¹¹“Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. ¹²Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.”

[sermon begins]

What does the world want? I mean the world that doesn’t include opportunists, oppressors, and oligarchs. I mean us, people – young, old, sick, healthy; all genders, religions, and colors. Regular people all around the world. What does the world want? Well, I haven’t interviewed the world, but I read a lot, listen to people a lot, and wonder about this question A LOT. People seem to want similar things – including enough love, food, shelter, income, community, peace, and health to lead meaningful lives. These near-universal wants hit home at last week’s concert here in our sanctuary. 100 voices combined in song to sing Tuvayun, the nine verses of the Beatitudes that we heard in the Matthew reading today that begin with “Blessed.” [1]  Tuvayun is Aramaic for “blessed,” a language that Jesus spoke.

There was this moment in Tuvayun entitled “I Hope” when each member of our Chancel Choir and the Colorado Chorale spoke their own words of hope, first one at a time and then all at the same time. It was cacophony of words piled on words, hope piled on hope. Hope so full and urgent that it rang through our ears to our hearts until mine broke into sobs. (I think Rob was worried about me for a minute.) Through the tears and heart broken open, I thought that these could be the voices of just about everyone in the world, hoping upon hope that we could get our collective act together so that everyone could simply live.

Jesus sums up reality’s clash with hope in the Beatitudes. Blessed are the depressed, the grieving, the merciful, the pure heart, the peacemakers, the persecuted, and the slandered. Folks who bear the burdens of despair, grief, persecution, justice, and pure hearts know the lament that comes with their heavy load. Jesus hears their cries and sees their suffering. His list of nine beatitudes is a precious gift as people’s pain is heard and seen. Jesus doesn’t stop there. He offers a word of hope.

Hope as blessings are revealed. There isn’t a lot of agreement about what “blessed” means in the Matthew reading. Because Jesus was Jewish and likely had some rabbinic training, I hang my hat with the rabbis on this one; that a blessing is something that already exists and occasionally we get a glimpse of the blessing that already exists. The rabbinic view is in opposition to our 21^st century view that a blessing is like being tapped by a fairy wand and something good happens because of how deserving we are. The Jewish notion of “blessed” helps us see life in full, revealing not only God’s promises when we suffer but also our call as conduits of blessing when we encounter suffering around us.[2] God’s work. Our hands.

On All Saints Day, it’s important to note that the blessing is not the suffering itself. The church has done some damage over the years with this kind of thinking. Opportunists, oppressors, and oligarchs are the ones who don’t want what most of the world wants. They perpetuate injustice, suffering, and violence to disrupt and take advantage of the disruption to gain power and wealth over and against most of the people in the world. Let’s not confuse their corruption as something from God.

Let’s focus on the saints. In Lutheran Christianity, saints are regular people like you and me who are touched by the waters of baptism. We’re sainted by the power of the Holy Spirit and together we add up to the body of Christ. (Another weird bit of Christian math kind of like the Trinity.) Sometimes we do super special things and most of the time we don’t. Martin Luther called this being saint and sinner at the same time – simul iustus et peccator. I sometimes use this language when I welcome people at the beginnings of funerals or other events here. I’ll say something like, “Good morning, I’m Pastor Caitlin, and I welcome you on behalf of the sinner-saints of Augustana.” When I say this, I know that most people probably don’t know what it means but I like it because it’s true. Sinners the lot of us. And I want people to know that we know that, especially since some people have an experience of Christians as enamored with their own importance.

The other thing that’s said at funerals is a prayer of Commendation at the end of the funeral. There are different prayers of Commendation but the one that I say most goes like this…

Into your hands, O merciful Savior, we commend your servant, __________. Acknowledge, we humbly beseech you, a sheep of your own fold, a lamb of your own flock, a sinner of your own redeeming. Receive him into the arms of your mercy, into the blessed rest of everlasting peace, and into the glorious company of the saints in light. Amen.

We say this prayer as a request, asking God to receive the person who died. But it’s a request to which we’ve been given the answer in baptism. God’s answer to this request is, “Yes.” God enfolds us in the life of God here and now. And God enfolds us in the life of God when we die. We’re enfolded in the life of God and “into the glorious company of the saints in light.” Now I don’t know what that means exactly. None of us does on this side of death. But it’s that glorious company of the saints in light that captures the imagination – seeing again much grieved for loved ones and friends. I’ve said prayers of Commendation many, many times as I touch urns or caskets. It’s the line about joining the saints in light that fills my heart with hope.

Last week, I was able to join by zoom the funeral of a dear colleague and friend, Andrea Doeden. Her congregation is in Trinidad, Colorado. As I watched the communion line that lasted for three full hymns and part of a fourth, I was struck by the mundane act of communion – coming forward, hands outstretched, bread and wine offered and eaten – and the mystical union that we have with Jesus and each other when we commune. We’re connected across time with the many who have come before us who make up the glorious company of the saints in light. We’re connect across time with Jesus and the saints who will come after us. Then I watched Bishop Jim commend Andrea to “the mercy of God, our maker and redeemer.” He put his hand on her urn, her photo next to it surrounded by flowers, and he prayed the prayer. Even in my sadness, I felt it, the mystery of communion with the saints in light.

Death cannot unlove a life that is loved. In fact, nothing can unlove a life that is already loved because love is from God.[3] The full measure of God’s love is that God loves you into life and God’s loves you through your last breath. The people listed in the bulletin today, the people named because they took their last breath in the past year, the people we commune with when we take communion, God loved them into life and God loved them on the way out. As you live and breathe today, God loves you. As you live through your last breath, God loves you. You are enfolded in the life of God, created in God’s image, and beloved through God’s death in Jesus on the cross – a wounded and beautiful Savior. You are sainted by God’s activity, not your own. In the words of the First John reading:

“Beloved, we are God’s children now; what we will be has not yet been revealed. What we do know is this: when [Christ] is revealed, we will be like him.”[4]

Alleluia! And Amen!

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1 John 3:1-3 See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God; and that is what we are. The reason the world does not know us is that it did not know him. ²Beloved, we are God’s children now; what we will be has not yet been revealed. What we do know is this: when he is revealed, we will be like him, for we will see him as he is. ³And all who have this hope in him purify themselves, just as he is pure.

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[1] The form of this sermon is written like a Beatitude, like Jesus’ “Blessed are…” statements in the gospel of Matthew reading. I begin with the cares and sufferings of the world and then proceed to the word of hope.

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

[3] 1 John 4:7 “Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God; everyone who loves is born of God and knows God.” NRSV.  A few verses later is 1 John 4:12 which is actually my favorite verse of all time. “No one has ever see God; if we love one another, God lives in us, and [God’s] love is made complete in us.” When I couldn’t pick up a Bible after many years out of the church, this was the verse that drew me back in.

[4] 1 John 3:2

[sermon begins after two Bible readings]

Mark 6:14-29  King Herod heard of it, for Jesus’ name had become known. Some were saying, “John the baptizer has been raised from the dead; and for this reason these powers are at work in him.” ¹⁵But others said, “It is Elijah.” And others said, “It is a prophet, like one of the prophets of old.” ¹⁶But when Herod heard of it, he said, “John, whom I beheaded, has been raised.”

¹⁷For Herod himself had sent men who arrested John, bound him, and put him in prison on account of Herodias, his brother Philip’s wife, because Herod had married her. ¹⁸For John had been telling Herod, “It is not lawful for you to have your brother’s wife.” ¹⁹And Herodias had a grudge against him, and wanted to kill him. But she could not, ²⁰for Herod feared John, knowing that he was a righteous and holy man, and he protected him. When he heard him, he was greatly perplexed; and yet he liked to listen to him. ²¹But an opportunity came when Herod on his birthday gave a banquet for his courtiers and officers and for the leaders of Galilee. ²²When his daughter Herodias came in and danced, she pleased Herod and his guests; and the king said to the girl, “Ask me for whatever you wish, and I will give it.” ²³And he solemnly swore to her, “Whatever you ask me, I will give you, even half of my kingdom.” ²⁴She went out and said to her mother, “What should I ask for?” She replied, “The head of John the baptizer.” ²⁵Immediately she rushed back to the king and requested, “I want you to give me at once the head of John the Baptist on a platter.” ²⁶The king was deeply grieved; yet out of regard for his oaths and for the guests, he did not want to refuse her. ²⁷Immediately the king sent a soldier of the guard with orders to bring John’s head. He went and beheaded him in the prison, ²⁸brought his head on a platter, and gave it to the girl. Then the girl gave it to her mother. ²⁹When his disciples heard about it, they came and took his body, and laid it in a tomb.

Ephesians 1:3-14 Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places, ⁴just as he chose us in Christ before the foundation of the world to be holy and blameless before him in love. ⁵He destined us for adoption as his children through Jesus Christ, according to the good pleasure of his will, ⁶to the praise of his glorious grace that he freely bestowed on us in the Beloved. ⁷In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace ⁸that he lavished on us. With all wisdom and insight ⁹he has made known to us the mystery of his will, according to his good pleasure that he set forth in Christ, ¹⁰as a plan for the fullness of time, to gather up all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth. ¹¹In Christ we have also obtained an inheritance, having been destined according to the purpose of him who accomplishes all things according to his counsel and will, ¹²so that we, who were the first to set our hope on Christ, might live for the praise of his glory. ¹³In him you also, when you had heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and had believed in him, were marked with the seal of the promised Holy Spirit; ¹⁴this is the pledge of our inheritance toward redemption as God’s own people, to the praise of his glory.

[sermon begins]

Last Sunday, I stopped at the grocery store on my way home from church. This means that I was also still wearing my church clothes, including the collar. Choosing the zippiest checkout lane, I found myself in a line with a cashier I’d never met. She wasn’t new, by any means. She was waving at people who called out her to her, talking across lanes with other cashiers, directing the grocery bagger on how to help a customer with propane, and welcomed me to the party with a warm, “Hi honey, how are you?” As she handed me the receipt, she held onto it for a few seconds, leaned way over and quietly asked, “Are you a priest?”

“A pastor,” I replied.

“Will you pray for me?”

“Yes,” I said as I started looking for her name tag to commit it to memory.

She held up her name badge and told me her name. I repeated her name and told her again that I would pray for her. She thanked me and I went on my way. From entering her line to the prayer request couldn’t have been more than five minutes – a short, sincere, and significant scene.

Our Bible story today is a scene of a different kind. The gospel writer teased us in the first chapter with half a verse about John the Baptist’s arrest and in the third chapter with the Pharisees conspiring against Jesus with Herod’s followers, but waited until the sixth chapter to expand on the story.[1] It’s the full meal deal with John’s head served as the final course of the banquet at Herod’s party.[2] Gruesome and horrific, it’s like a scene in a movie that spotlights just how evil the evil ones can be. Herod had heard about Jesus and his apostles proclaiming repentance, casting out demons, and curing the sick among the villages. When he heard about it, Herod was haunted by the idea that John, whom he beheaded, had been raised. Initially, Herod imprisoned John to protect him from his wife Herodias’ grudge. He liked listening to John’s perplexing teachings and confined him to a handy dungeon. But Herodias won the long game and trapped Herod in his oath-keeping and in his concern for what other people thought about him. Herod was “deeply grieved,” but apparently not grieved enough to do the right thing.

Herod executed John to save face and protect his power. His evil act haunted him when he heard about the things that Jesus and his apostles were doing, once again connecting John the Baptist’s and Jesus’ ministries. At first, Herod’s deep regret stood out in this gruesome tale as something we can all relate to – even if we haven’t chopped off anyone’s head. But then, Jesus’ apostles and John’s disciples became more compelling. What were they doing around the edges of Herod’s evil acts? Mark, the gospel writer, bookends Herod’s story by first highlighting Jesus’ apostles preaching repentance, casting out demons, and curing the sick; and afterwards, recounting how “the apostles gathered around Jesus to tell him all that they had done and taught” before they got down to Feeding the Five Thousand.[3] Mark concludes John’s murder with a short note about his own disciples’ compassion and action. “When his disciples heard about it, they came and took his [beheaded] body, and laid it in a tomb.” Not only does laying John in a tomb further connect his ministry and its end to Jesus’ earthly ministry and its end, but John’s disciples and Jesus’ apostles are examples of people practicing hope in the face of institutional evil and corrupt power.

Last week, I was in a meeting in which the opening icebreaker was to share a sentence or two about where we see signs of hope in a violent world. As you might imagine, the answers were all over the board, but there was a unifying theme that could be described as the hopeful behavior that we see other people doing and that we ourselves try to do – people creating hope for themselves and others by working with other people creating hope for themselves and others. Not spinning illusory hope for someday but working towards practical hope for today. Working repentance and healing for abundant life for everyone. And this takes us to the Ephesians Bible reading.

This reading starts the first of seven weeks in Ephesians, so it’s a good time to read this very short book attributed to Paul, although more likely written by one of his students. Ephesus was located in what’s now the western coast of Turkey. The letter’s message praises God’s work in Jesus, freeing us from sin by grace through faith that creates us for good works. In these opening verses of the first chapter that were read today, we hear about the spiritual blessings in Christ. Included in the list of blessings is redemption in Christ. Redemption in Biblical times meant the equivalent of being freed from slavery.[4] Redemption from sin would mean being freed from sin. Now obviously, Jesus followers have as much problem with sin as anyone else. But redemption in Christ also gives us a faith community through our baptisms and through whom we experience the weekly and even daily call to surrender our sin at the foot of the cross and practice faith, hope, and love as adopted children of God through Jesus Christ.

It’s taken me more that my fair share of time to figure out that being adopted as a child of God through baptism has nothing to do with playing it safe. In fact, being named child of God in baptism draws us into acts of practical hope for today that often don’t align with the goals of leaders who hold institutional power. Was John the Baptist safe? No. Was Jesus safe? No. Were Jesus’ early followers safe? No. Are we safe? No, I’m afraid not. What we are is redeemed and freed by the gospel into the work of practical hope assigned by Jesus.

The cashier who asked for prayer sees Jesus people as a sign of practical hope. Each day our baptism works in us the practical hope of dying to sin and raising us to new life so that we’re less like Herod and more like Jesus. Living into a life that is ever more Christ-shaped as a Jesus follower, safety from corrupt power fades to black while acts of practical hope take center stage in public acts of the faithful. Advocacy is one way to do the work of practical hope; community organizing is another. Working through legislation and ballot initiatives that change people’s real lives now. It’s partly why Augustana has a fledgling Human Dignity Delegate ministry to address issues of human dignity in the public square. The next meeting is August 1. Let me know if you’d like more details.

In a moment we’ll sing “Listen, God is Calling.” In the language of Herod’s story, God calls us from our self-absorbed, death-dealing sin. God redeems us into freedom from those very sins and our inevitable regret for them. God’s call through the cross of Christ empowers us by the Holy Spirit into the unsafe, bold, and practical hope on behalf of the gospel for the sake of the world. It’s a good day to be reminded of this good news. Amen.

Song after the sermon:

Listen, God is Calling [Neno lake Mungu][5]

#513 Evangelical Lutheran Worship (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 2006)

Refrain

Listen, listen, God is calling through the Word inviting, offering forgiveness, comfort and joy. (repeat)

Jesus gave his mandate; share the good news that he came to save us and set us free. [Refrain]

Let none be forgotten throughout the world. In the triune name of God go and baptize. [Refrain]

Help us to be faithful, standing steadfast, walking in your precepts, led by your Word. [Refrain]

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[1] Mark 1:14 and Mark 3:6

[2] Karoline Lewis, Professor of Biblical Preaching, Luther Seminary, St. Paul, MN. Sermon Brainwave: Commentary discussion of Mark 6:14-29 for July 11, 2021. https://www.workingpreacher.org/podcasts/792-7th-sunday-after-pentecost-ord-15b-july-11-2021

[3] Mark 6:30 immediately follows the gospel reading of Mark 6:14-29

[4] Lutheran Study Bible (NRSV). Ephesians 1:7 study note. (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 2009), 1922.

[5] Austin Lovelace and Howard S. Olson (1968). Lutheran Theological College, Makumira, Tanzania, admin. Augsburg Fortress.

[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.

__________________________________________________________

[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

____________________________________________________________

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.

Caitlin Trussell with Augustana Lutheran Church, Denver

February 2, 2020 – Presentation of Our Lord and Candlemas

[sermon begins after Bible reading; it’s a meaty story – hang in there]

Luke 2:22-40 When the time came for their purification according to the law of Moses, they brought him up to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord 23 (as it is written in the law of the Lord, “Every firstborn male shall be designated as holy to the Lord”), 24 and they offered a sacrifice according to what is stated in the law of the Lord, “a pair of turtledoves or two young pigeons.” 25 Now there was a man in Jerusalem whose name was Simeon; this man was righteous and devout, looking forward to the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit rested on him. 26 It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not see death before he had seen the Lord’s Messiah. 27 Guided by the Spirit, Simeon came into the temple; and when the parents brought in the child Jesus, to do for him what was customary under the law, 28 Simeon took him in his arms and praised God, saying, 29 “Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace, according to your word; 30 for my eyes have seen your salvation, 31 which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, 32 a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel.” 33 And the child’s father and mother were amazed at what was being said about him. 34 Then Simeon blessed them and said to his mother Mary, “This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed 35 so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed—and a sword will pierce your own soul too.” 36 There was also a prophet, Anna the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was of a great age, having lived with her husband seven years after her marriage, 37 then as a widow to the age of eighty-four. She never left the temple but worshiped there with fasting and prayer night and day. 38 At that moment she came, and began to praise God and to speak about the child to all who were looking for the redemption of Jerusalem. 39 When they had finished everything required by the law of the Lord, they returned to Galilee, to their own town of Nazareth. 40 The child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom; and the favor of God was upon him.

[sermon begins]

When I was a kid, not sure quite how old, I was walking down the street with my grandmother. Time alone with Grammops feels like it was rare. She could be a little intimidating too – almost regal in her bearing. I used to joke that if you had the manners to dine with Grammops, you could easily dine with the Queen. Walking alongside Grammops, armed with the ignorance of youth, I dared to ask how old she was. She told me that it was NOT a question to be asked, her body language speaking volumes, and we just kept right on walking. Clearly her response made an impression since I remember this story. I wished she’d simply said, “Caitlin, I am of a great age” and kept right on walking. A “great age” is how our Bible story describes the prophet Anna who lived in the Temple. So, to our friends of a great age, feel free to use this one. If someone asks you what it means you can tell them to check out the Bible’s second chapter of Luke in the 36^th verse. Not only will it be Biblically accurate, you can also remain mysterious about said great age if that’s how you roll.

Anna and Simeon’s great age, in contrast with the 40-day-old baby Jesus, is part of what I love about this story. Artwork inspired by this Bible story captures the smooth newborn and the texture of age along with a radiant light. The contrast also frames a faithful perspective on peace and suffering. Simeon scoops Jesus into his arms and celebrates God’s long-awaited promise fulfilled with a song of peace. In the next breath, Simeon tells Mary that Jesus “is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the thoughts of many will be revealed – and a sword will piece her own soul too.” (Probably not what you want to hear when you’re a first-time mom showing off your new baby in the Temple.)[1]

The widow prophet Anna follows Simeon’s speech with her own praise and talks about Jesus to anyone who would listen. Contrasts are vividly shaped in a matter of moments – old and young; life and death; peace and soul-piercing pain. Two faithful people of great age in the story are an audacious portrait of peace and suffering. You don’t arrive at a great age without experiencing things that you wish you hadn’t. Perhaps Anna and Simeon’s perspective can lead us to dare similarly, to gather around the light when death is ever present in the world.[2]

The light of Christ is part of what is celebrated annually on February 2 in the festival of Presentation of Our Lord and the accompanying ritual of Candlemas, also celebrated today. Blessing candles for use this evening and year-round invokes Simeon’s words as he held Jesus and praised God for “a light of revelation to the Gentiles.” The candlelight reminds us that the light of Jesus shines in the darkness and the darkness did not, cannot, will not overcome it.[3] Anna and Simeon lead by their example of showing up in sacred space where God’s promise is more readily remembered. They would find it hard to imagine how counter-cultural it is in the 21^st century to self-identify as religious.

Religious ritual helps us to remember our center when the culture at large fails to do so. The grief for Kobe Bryant’s death is one such moment. The many layers and voices in the mix of what happened to Mr. Bryant, his daughter, and the other people in the helicopter make it difficult for us to remember that all of them are beloved children of God.  As the two women (not of a great age) in our congregation, who died recently and unexpectedly in different situations on the same day are also beloved children of God. As the people that you’ve lost to death and on your hearts and minds are also beloved children of God. And, as such, there is nothing they could do or not do to make God love them any more or any less.

Jesus’ self-sacrifice on the cross, hinted at in Simeon’s words, is God’s refusal to raise a hand in violence against the world God so loves. The empty tomb of Easter, also hinted at in Simeon’s words, is God’s promise to swallow death up into God, into holy rest with all the company of the saints in light perpetual. It’s tough to remember all those words when we need to hear them. It’s not tough to light a candle, say our loved ones’ names in prayer, and to remember God’s promise of love and light in Jesus – to comfort the afflicted with peace that passes all our understanding and to remember that we dare to gather around the light when death is ever present in our world.

Simeon’s praise and speech doesn’t end once he announces his own peace. He keeps right on going. Anna also keeps right on talking to all who will listen. Apparently, even at a great age, there’s more for them to say about Jesus. Do they keep going because there is little time to waste? Or do they keep going because their perspective gives them a vantage point that people of a lesser age can’t see? Regardless, our 21^st century world of media and nation states would be unimaginable to them. Our ability to impact our world through a representative government would shock them. But the call of Jesus to disrupt any status quo – private, political, local, global, or otherwise – that ignores the pain of our neighbor remains the same.[4]

Anna and Simeon are saints in the faith as their stories are recorded in Luke for us to learn and gain strength from. We can look to them anytime or anticipate this day annually on February 2. Their story is easy to find. Whether you’re afflicted and needing comfort or whether you’re too comfortable and need to be agitated out of that comfort for your own good or for the good of your neighbor, the day that Jesus was presented in the Temple is your day. Jesus shows up both as a promise of peace and as a sign that will be opposed; as both a consoler and an agitator. We are people of faith drawn together by the Holy Spirit, daring to gather around the light when death and suffering are ever present in our world. Jesus, our light, our life and our peace, leads us on the journey.  Amen.

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Blessing for your home candles (Adapted  by Pastor Inga Oyan Longbrake from ELW Occasional Services)

Let us pray.

We give you thanks, O God, creator of the universe, for you have enriched our lives with every good gift, and you have invited us to praise you with lives of love, justice, and joy.

Send your blessing on these candles, which we set apart today; may they be to us a sign of Christ, the Light of the world, the light no darkness can overcome.

To you, O God, be all glory and honor through your Son, Jesus Christ,in the unity of the Holy Spirit, now and forever.

Amen.

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[1] Matthew L. Skinner, Professor of New Testament, Luther Seminary. Sermon Brainwave on Luke 2:22-40. December 25, 2011. https://www.workingpreacher.org/brainwave.aspx?podcast_id=252

[2] Ibid. David Lose, Senior Pastor, Mt. Olivet Lutheran Church, Minneapolis, MN.

[3] An emphatic paraphrase of John 1:5 – “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.”

[4] Luke 10:25-37 The Parable of the Good Samaritan