Tag Archives: God

Preaching, Sermons

Cousins in the Faith: Jews and Christians [OR Be Salty & Shiny (Not That Kind of Salty[1])] Isaiah 58:1-9a, 1 Corinthians 2:1-12, and Matthew 5:13-20

**Photo: Cantor Zachary Kutner, January 27, 2023. See this photo and more in the Facebook post here: Holocaust Remembrance Day, Kavod Senior Life.

Caitlin Trussell with Augustana Lutheran Church, Denver, February 5, 2023

[sermon begins after two Bible readings; the 1 Corinthians reading may be found at the end of the sermon]

Isaiah 58:1-9a  Shout out, do not hold back!
Lift up your voice like a trumpet!
Announce to my people their rebellion,
to the house of Jacob their sins.
2Yet day after day they seek me
and delight to know my ways,
as if they were a nation that practiced righteousness
and did not forsake the ordinance of their God;
they ask of me righteous judgments,
they delight to draw near to God.
3“Why do we fast, but you do not see?
Why humble ourselves, but you do not notice?”
Look, you serve your own interest on your fast day,
and oppress all your workers.
4Look, you fast only to quarrel and to fight
and to strike with a wicked fist.
Such fasting as you do today
will not make your voice heard on high.
5Is such the fast that I choose,
a day to humble oneself?
Is it to bow down the head like a bulrush,
and to lie in sackcloth and ashes?
Will you call this a fast,
a day acceptable to the Lord?

6Is not this the fast that I choose:
to loose the bonds of injustice,
to undo the thongs of the yoke,
to let the oppressed go free,
and to break every yoke?
7Is it not to share your bread with the hungry,
and bring the homeless poor into your house;
when you see the naked, to cover them,
and not to hide yourself from your own kin?
8Then your light shall break forth like the dawn,
and your healing shall spring up quickly;
your vindicator shall go before you,
the glory of the Lord shall be your rear guard.
9aThen you shall call, and the Lord will answer;
you shall cry for help, and he will say, Here I am.

Matthew 5:13-20   [Jesus said:] 13“You are the salt of the earth; but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything, but is thrown out and trampled under foot.
14“You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hid. 15No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. 16In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.
17“Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfill. 18For truly I tell you, until heaven and earth pass away, not one letter, not one stroke of a letter, will pass from the law until all is accomplished. 19Therefore, whoever breaks one of the least of these commandments, and teaches others to do the same, will be called least in the kingdom of heaven; but whoever does them and teaches them will be called great in the kingdom of heaven. 20For I tell you, unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”

[sermon begins]

 

Salt makes the world a better place. Those of us who have ever been put on a salt restriction know that salt becomes obvious when it’s missing. I was talking with an Augustana friend recently who relocated to a Senior Living near her son. When I asked how the food was, she said it was okay but that in meeting the various residents’ health needs there was a lack of salt and seasoning in the food. Saltshakers are not on the table and so she brings her own salt shaker to the meal. (I have filed this smart tip away for use at a later date.) Salt is one of those things for which a little goes a long way. I’ve ruined a perfectly good egg salad sandwich or two being heavy handed with the shaker. Salt, though, when applied properly, works with food to make it better.[2] Light is similar. Light brightens what already exists to help us perceive the world around us.[3]

When Jesus calls his followers “salt” and “light,” he is calling them “salt” and “light” as a group. We’ve talked before about how our Southern friends do better translating the plural “you,” as in “y’all,” or “all y’all” for emphasis. Here’s a quick example. Continuous with the Bible reading from last Sunday on the Beatitudes to today’s reading, we hear Jesus say to his disciples:

All y’all are the salt of the earth…all y’all are the light of the world…let all y’all’s light so shine before others that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven.” [Matthew 5:13-14, 16]

When we sing, “This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine,” we don’t ordinarily sing it by ourselves. Does anyone do that? I can think of one person who probably does. Most of us have maybe hummed it a time or two in our heads as it echoes there after worship. Feel free to let me know if I got this one wrong. I have to admit that I don’t sing it by myself. I sing it in children’s time in worship or with Augustana’s Early Learning Center kids during their chapel time. Every so often we’ll sing it after the sermon as a Hymn of the Day in response to the sermon.[4] Mostly we sing it together. “This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine.” I like that it’s a together thing because it gets at what Jesus announces to his disciples.

Notice that Jesus isn’t telling them what to do. He’s describing something, not prescribing it.[5] Jesus is telling them what they already are – salt and light. Be salty (a note to the gamers among us, not the kind of salty that means bitter). Don’t hide your light. Let your light shine and, in doing so, the good works that come from the light will point to God. It’s a subtle point but it’s an important one. We talk a lot in Lutheran Christian circles about God’s movement to us. God showing up in Jesus. We don’t build a ladder to God. God brings God’s self to us.  When we hear this, more than a few of us might be thinking, “Ruh roh, I don’t think I’m salt and light, God must have missed me with the saltshaker because I can be a real jerk.” This may be your good news day because of course we can be jerks. But God calls us back by our baptisms, over and over again, to remind us that we are salt and light and that we are free to be salt and light. We, the church, all y’all, are salt and light together. Being salt and light is a group experience that leads to group projects. The church word for group project is ministry.

That’s why Jesus’ speech about the law and commandments follow the salt and light comments. Not as a way to lord righteousness over our neighbors or as a performance to get their attention. [6] Rather, commandments are given to us as a way to live well with our neighbors, to be who God says we are in relationship with our neighbors. The Gospel of Matthew can be tricky because it appears that there was stress within the 1st century Matthean community between Jews and Jewish Christians. Some readings like ours today are an example of that 1st century stress and can be misconstrued to be anti-Jew or anti-law, as if somehow Jesus found the Jewish tradition obsolete and in need of an overhaul.[7] The verses about following the law connect Jesus’ teaching with Moses – not as a split, as an extension of the covenant.[8] Our reading from the book of Isaiah says that feeding the hungry, covering the naked, and loosening the bonds of injustice by freeing the oppressed shall break forth your light like the dawn.

In the last few weeks, one of my Rabbi friends and I were in a conversation about a public comment that I had made about Christians and Jews being “cousins in the faith.” It’s something I’ve said before in different places, but I suddenly questioned my thinking out loud and added that I’d need to double check that statement. In our follow-up conversation, Rabbi Brian aligned with the expression, “cousins in the faith” because it acknowledges that both Christianity and Rabbinic Judaism grew like branches from the trunk of the Hebrew Bible that Christians call the Old Testament. Rabbinic Judaism grew like one branch while Christianity grew like another branch at about the same time during the 1st century.[9]

A few weeks after this conversation with Rabbi Brian, I brought your congregational greetings from Augustana to the residents of Kavod Senior Life, a Jewish hosted residence for older adults just a few blocks west from our building. It was Holocaust Remembrance Day, commemorating the liberation of Auschwitz, a concentration camp during World War II, and honoring the lives of over 6 million Jews who were murdered along with millions of non-Jews – Poles, Russians, Roma, disabled people, political opponents, and LGBTQ folks – and the many who survived to live and remember, including honoring a few survivors who were there that day. The event at Kavod was reverent and hopeful. Rabbi Steve, Kavod’s chaplain, organized the event and invited me as both a Christian pastor of a neighboring congregation and as a resource for their Christian residents.[10] One of the leaders during the event was Cantor Zachary Kutner, a 97-year-old holocaust survivor who sang the signature prayer of remembrance (El Malei Rachamim). His voice was as boldly life-filled as it was mind-blowing, chanting from quiet meditation to loud exuberance and back again. As we continue this year’s journey through the Gospel of Matthew, it matters how we talk and think about our Jewish cousins in the faith. Let’s keep talking and thinking.

“All ya’ll are salt and light,” Jesus said. Together as the church, we dip back into this baptismal promise on a daily, sometimes minute-to-minute, basis – resting not on human wisdom but on the power of God made vulnerable in Christ Jesus and him crucified.[11] The light of Christ shining through the cross is not permission to do whatever the heck we want when we want to. Christ’s light gives us freedom to experience the transforming power of faith through our congregation, through all y’all.

Freedom that free us to admit when we’ve been jerks.

Freedom to experience forgiveness and try again to love God, love neighbor, and love ourselves.[12]

Freedom to be salt and light for the sake of this world God so loves.

Thanks be to God and amen.

________________________________________________________________

[1] “Salty” is a word used as urban slang to mean bitter or upset. https://knowyourmeme.com/memes/salty#:~:text=According%20to%20the%20Online%20Etymology%20Dictionary%2C%20the%20U.S.,as%20%22looking%20stupid%E2%80%A6%20because%20of%20something%20you%20did%22.

[2] Melanie A. Howard, Associate Professor and Program Director of Biblical and Theological Studies, Fresno Pacific University, CA. Commentary on Matthew 5:13-20 for Workingpreacher.org. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fifth-sunday-after-epiphany/commentary-on-matthew-513-20-5

[3] Ibid.

[4] Hymn of the Day is the song sung after the sermon, usually connected to one of the Bible readings or the preacher’s sermon.

[5] Howard, Ibid.

[6] Ibid.

[7] Ibid.

[8] Ibid.

[9] Rabbi Brian Field, Denver, CO. Founding and Former Rabbi of Judaism Your Way.

[10] Rabbi Steve Booth-Nadav, Chaplain, Kavod Senior Life, and Director of Multifaith Leadership Forum in Denver.

[11] 1 Corinthians 2:1-2

[12] Leviticus 19:18 and Luke 10:27 – Once again Jesus teaches within the Jewish tradition, “love your neighbor as yourself.

___________________________________________________

1 Corinthians 2:1-12  When I came to you, brothers and sisters, I did not come proclaiming the mystery of God to you in lofty words or wisdom. 2For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ, and him crucified. 3And I came to you in weakness and in fear and in much trembling. 4My speech and my proclamation were not with plausible words of wisdom, but with a demonstration of the Spirit and of power, 5so that your faith might rest not on human wisdom but on the power of God.
6Yet among the mature we do speak wisdom, though it is not a wisdom of this age or of the rulers of this age, who are doomed to perish. 7But we speak God’s wisdom, secret and hidden, which God decreed before the ages for our glory. 8None of the rulers of this age understood this; for if they had, they would not have crucified the Lord of glory. 9But, as it is written,
“What no eye has seen, nor ear heard,
nor the human heart conceived,
what God has prepared for those who love him”—
10these things God has revealed to us through the Spirit; for the Spirit searches everything, even the depths of God. 11For what human being knows what is truly human except the human spirit that is within? So also no one comprehends what is truly God’s except the Spirit of God. 12Now we have received not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit that is from God, so that we may understand the gifts bestowed on us by God.

Good News, Preaching, Sermons

Auld Lang Syne and A Breath of Fresh Air – Matthew 2:13-23 [OR Echoes the Sound of Silent Night: Herod, Holy Innocents, and the Holy Family]

 

**sermon art:  “The Flight Into Egypt” by Carl Dixon (b. 1960), mixed media on sculpted wood panel.  African-American wood-carving rooted in traditional West African folk art. http://sacredartpilgrim.com/collection/view/50

Caitlin Trussell with Augustana Lutheran Church on January 1, 2023

[sermon begins after Bible reading – check this one out, it’s infrequently read in the church calendar and has an alternate set of readings for the day so it’s not often heard]

Matthew 2:13-23 Now after [the wise men] had left, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, “Get up, take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there until I tell you; for Herod is about to search for the child, to destroy him.” 14Then Joseph got up, took the child and his mother by night, and went to Egypt, 15and remained there until the death of Herod. This was to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet, “Out of Egypt I have called my son.”
16When Herod saw that he had been tricked by the wise men, he was infuriated, and he sent and killed all the children in and around Bethlehem who were two years old or under, according to the time that he had learned from the wise men. 17Then was fulfilled what had been spoken through the prophet Jeremiah:
18“A voice was heard in Ramah,
wailing and loud lamentation,
Rachel weeping for her children;
she refused to be consoled, because they are no more.”
19When Herod died, an angel of the Lord suddenly appeared in a dream to Joseph in Egypt and said, 20“Get up, take the child and his mother, and go to the land of Israel, for those who were seeking the child’s life are dead.” 21Then Joseph got up, took the child and his mother, and went to the land of Israel. 22But when he heard that Archelaus was ruling over Judea in place of his father Herod, he was afraid to go there. And after being warned in a dream, he went away to the district of Galilee. 23There he made his home in a town called Nazareth, so that what had been spoken through the prophets might be fulfilled, “He will be called a Nazorean.”

[sermon begins]

Happy New Year, friends. Today is quite a mash up. Like Christmas Day last week, New Year’s Day falls on a Sunday AND takes in annual place within the 12 Days of Christmas. I’ve been looking forward to today. The Bible readings give us a chance to tease apart the freshly minted 2023 and the urge for a fresh start in the echoes of Auld Lang Syne.[1] Auld Lang Syne means “the good old days,”[2] filtering the past through rose-colored light, softening hard edges with hazy nostalgia. Out of that haze comes the instinct to dust off the past and polish ourselves into new-and-improved versions of self with new year resolutions. The power of this instinct to re-make, re-do, and re-new, makes the good news of the manger that much more needed – the good news that God slips on skin in solidarity with our fragile humanity and reminds us that there is nothing we can do or not do to make God love us any more or any less. God’s love is the good news that unfilters the past and frees us to untangle the good, the bad, and the ugly and to tell the truth about it. Good news that rejects shame and inspires curiosity as a breath of fresh air in a fresh calendar year.

I find myself doing a lot of breathing these days. So much so that “breathe” is the word that I chose in Advent to guide my prayer during the church year. Still recovering from shoulder capsule surgery last fall, my stretching exercises include repetitions of each stretch, twice through the series. I breathe in, stretch, hold that stretch while slowly breathing out, counting 1…2…3…4…5 – 2…2…3…4…5 – 3…2…3…4…5…and so on. That’s A LOT of breathing. My shoulder reminds me that last year’s reality isn’t automatically re-booted by the new calendar. Maybe you have a reminder of your own – a reminder of body, mind, or spirit – that last year isn’t magically re-booted too.

Today’s Bible readings are also a reminder that as much as the world changed with the birth of Jesus, his birth didn’t re-boot the world. There was still the abuse of power by leaders who would have their own way regardless of the human cost. King Herod’s fragile ego and furious response to the wise men’s diversion was beyond the pale. The wise men didn’t let Herod know that they’d found the child Jesus in Bethlehem. After depositing their gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh with the Holy Family, they’d been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, so the wise men returned home on a different road.[3] Learning of their deception, Herod lashed out and “he sent and killed all the children in and around Bethlehem who were two years old or under, according to the time he had learned from the wise men.[4] The Holy Family’s escape to Egypt didn’t erase the fear and pain of the families trapped in Bethlehem – their agony and grief echoed in past generations by Rachel’s weeping for the slaughter of other innocents centuries before. Their grief echoes between the sound of silent night and an old rugged cross – God suffering with them in pain and despair.

Herod’s anger is easy to distance ourselves from. His power is incomprehensible as is his slaughter of the innocents, the babies of Bethlehem. But this Bible reading opens a path to examine our own anger, and the regret of actions taken in anger, that invites curiosity, confession, and making amends however inadequate those amends may be in the face of individual and collective grief. I read recently that anger is really just grief with some energy behind it. I suppose we could say that Herod was grieved by a threat to his power. Grief goes hand-in-hand with loss. Losses pile up in situations beyond our control.

Loss comes with changes of all kinds. Herod reacted in anger when his power was threatened by Jesus’ birth. His power was further threatened when the wise men ignored his command and went home by a different road. His anger led to violence. Our anger can lead to violence too. Even our anger with ourselves can lead to violence against ourselves in the form of shame, self-harm, addiction, and more. Most of us can’t imagine Herod’s power. But we can see how anger spirals out of control in our own lives, hurting partners, children, or co-workers with words and actions borne out of anger. We can get curious and ask for help with our anger, figuring out how to move from breathing and counting to quiet anger, into healing from what lies beneath the anger. It’s hard to see through the haze of Auld Lang Syne. It’s even harder to confess that the good old days weren’t that good. But one promise of the Christ-child in a manger is that our personal Herodian holier-than-thou violence is not our whole story because God loves us just that much.

The Bible story also invites our thinking about the Holy Family on the run to Egypt, the Holy Innocents who didn’t survive Herod’s death sentence, and how we work with people fleeing the violence of conflict, persecution, poverty, and climate crises[5] – including how we hold ourselves accountable as the church, and our local and national governments accountable, for impacting and solving these humanitarian crises. Both the Old and New Testaments of the Bible preach about caring for the stranger and neighbor.[6] Part of caring for strangers is acting in hope and faith whether or not we agree about the causes of mass migration and even if the outcome is unknown.

Last year, and not for the first time in Augustana’s history, our congregation formed a team of people to work with refugees connected with Lutheran Family Services. We have two teams of people led by Amy, Gerd, and Josie, who went through the training and a few folks are waiting on their background checks. One of our Refugee Support Teams just welcomed a Kurdish Syrian family to Denver and is working with them on getting settled. Ways to help this family, and also ways to help the South American migrants who arrived recently in Denver, are in the weekly Epistle emails and your worship announcement bulletin. The scale of human need can be overwhelming. As with all of our work with our neighbors, all of us can’t do everything but some of us can do one thing. The hope of the manger is partly revealed in the action of the church, the risen body of Christ whose humble beginnings in a manger echo through us all.

I recently spoke with someone who feels fortunate to have had a long life with her faith at the center of it. As we were talking about her last days and weeks, she told me that she had an experience years ago in which her anger just disappeared. She ordinarily would have been angry but she wasn’t. The absence of anger in that situation allowed her to tend to herself and other people in the situation differently than she ordinarily would have. While the story was riveting, what caught my attention most was the very last part when she said, “And you know pastor, it was fun!” Apparently, it’s fun not to get angry and see what happens. I wouldn’t know. For me, it goes back to breathing while anger wanes – breathe in, hold breath, slowly breathing out, hold, 1…2…3…4…5 – 2…2…3…4…5 – 3…2…3…4…5… Breathing through anger is a different set of stretching exercises. Getting it down to the point of fun? Now that would be a game changer, maybe even a world changer.

As we live and breathe, 2023 is upon us. It feels hard to believe. What I do believe is that by the power of God’s Spirit, each new day that we’re alive is an opportunity to cling to God’s promises of faith, hope, and love with our very fragile bodies, and is a fresh chance to shower the people around us with faith, hope, and love. While the promise of the manger, of Emmanuel – God with us, does not remove anger and the abuse of power from our world, its light gives us hope.

Hope that our own anger and frustration won’t perpetuate violent words and deeds against ourselves, family, neighbors, and strangers.

Hope that empowers us into action with our neighbors who may also be strangers.

Hope that shifts us from anger into the fun of peace. And ultimately the hope that God meets us where we are, as we are, and calls us beloved.

Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and amen.

______________________________________________________

[1] Literal translation from the Scottish “auld lang syne” is “times long ago” which in common usage means “good old times.” https://www.merriam webster.com/dictionary/auld%20lang%20syne

[2] Give a listen to this beautiful take on the old song by Ryan Ahlwardt: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bxQTxn-R1gY

[3] Matthew 2:1-12

[4] Mathew 2:16

[5] This is a good article that includes Biblical references about the Judeo-Christian perspectives of “aliens” and “strangers.” Yonathan Moya. January 21, 2020. www.borderperspective.org/blog/what-does-the-bible-say-about-welcoming-immigrants

[6] Leviticus 19:34, Deuteronomy 26:1-11, Matthew 25:35, Luke 10:27, Romans 12:13, Ephesians 2:19. Also, Biblical characters who were migrant refugees: Abraham & Sarah, Hagar, David, Jesus, Aquila and Pricilla.

Good News, Preaching, Sermons

A Christmas Kiss [OR Baby or Bearded, Jesus is a Face of God’s Love] Luke 2:1-20 and Isaiah 9:2-7

 

Caitlin Trussell with Augustana Lutheran Church on December 24, 2022 – Christmas Eve

[sermon begins after two long-ish Bible readings]

Luke 2:1-20 In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. 2This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. 3All went to their own towns to be registered. 4Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David. 5He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. 6While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. 7And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.
8In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. 9Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. 10But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: 11to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. 12This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” 13And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying,
14“Glory to God in the highest heaven,
and on earth peace among those whom he favors!”
[
15When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.” 16So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger. 17When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child; 18and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them. 19But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart. 20The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them.]

Isaiah 9:2-7

2The people who walked in darkness
have seen a great light;
those who lived in a land of deep darkness—
on them light has shined.
3You have multiplied the nation,
you have increased its joy;
they rejoice before you
as with joy at the harvest,
as people exult when dividing plunder.
4For the yoke of their burden,
and the bar across their shoulders,
the rod of their oppressor,
you have broken as on the day of Midian.
5For all the boots of the tramping warriors
and all the garments rolled in blood
shall be burned as fuel for the fire.
6For a child has been born for us,
a son given to us;
authority rests upon his shoulders;
and he is named
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
7His authority shall grow continually,
and there shall be endless peace
for the throne of David and his kingdom.
He will establish and uphold it
with justice and with righteousness
from this time onward and forevermore.
The zeal of the Lord of hosts will do this.

[sermon begins]

“They look like themselves,” Mom said, when I asked her who a newly born cousin looked like. She would say, every time, that they looked like themselves. When my own kids were born, I asked Mom who she thought they looked like – Rob or me or both – and she said that they looked like themselves. I don’t know where she came up with this phrase, but I like to think it’s because my siblings and I are a mix of biological and adopted children. Rather than complicate the question with a complicated answer, she found a simple way to answer it and moved on. I was recently telling a friend about my mom’s way of describing babies and she had a story of her own. When her first baby was born, she said to the nurse, “He doesn’t look like anyone I’ve ever seen before.”[1] The nurse replied, “Because you haven’t.” What my mother and my friend were both saying is that each baby is their own story waiting to happen as part of the larger story of their family.

Jesus’ family extended beyond biology, as my family does with adoption, and perhaps your family does too in different ways.[2] Joseph, the adoptive father, ultimately welcomes the sweet baby Jesus as his own (keeping us guessing for a tense moment), after Mary consented to God’s wild plan. The new parents kissed the face of Jesus, kissing the face of God, looking like no one they’d ever seen before, looking like himself – beyond biology yet oh-so-human. A Christmas kiss for the ages, no mistletoe in sight.

In the meantime, the angel sent the shepherds to look for the sign of God’s promise. “This will be a sign for you,” the angel said, “you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” A sign unto himself.[3] That’s Jesus for you – looking like himself. The shepherds, frozen by fear in front of the angel, quickly launched into action as their fear thawed. Who knows what they were expecting during their hasty run from the field to the manger side. I picture them turning up at the manger sweaty and out of breath. Words tumbling out as they talk over each other to tell the story about the angel in the field, and Mary and Joseph looking at the shepherds, the baby, and each other with wide amazed eyes, wondering what in heaven’s name is going on. I wonder what the shepherds were expecting after their foot race. They could have looked at the baby Jesus and thought, “Huh, just a baby, if you’ve seen one, you’ve seen ‘em all.”[4] Whatever they thought they saw, they returned to the fields around Bethlehem, praising God for the good news that they had seen and heard.

Our world focuses on bad news much of the time. Bad news makes money for the bad news sellers while making everyone else afraid. The Christmas story hints at bad news with the registration ordered by Caesar Augustus. The census registration was the reason that Mary and Joseph went to Bethlehem. In the first century, censuses were taken for money reasons – so that the people could be taxed, and for military reasons – so that people could be conscripted into the Roman armies. The census was serious business taken seriously by Rome. The presence of Roman soldiers would not have been a surprise. The census was NOT a party. The census was the power and strength of Caesar casting a wide net. But the census is a placeholder in the story, almost as if it was the least interesting part.

We’re reminded that the real action happened outside the seat of power. The good news was announced in a field under angel-light, to shepherds focused on sheep birthing their lambs, the power of nature mid-wifed through their hands. The shepherds ran from the birthing fields to see a newborn in a manger who would one day be called THE Good Shepherd. The baby Jesus wrapped in bands of cloth when he was born echoing the crucified Jesus wrapped in linen cloth when he died. The bands of cloth around the baby tease our memory with the rest of the story yet to come, the story of Jesus who risked everything to expand the circle of God’s love around even the most unlovable people in the eyes of the world. Christmas is just that risky and counter cultural.

The angel says, “Do not be afraid, for see, I bring you good news of great joy for all people.” From baby to bearded Jesus, the mystery of the good news unfolded through his adulthood right on through the next 2,022 years. The good news is that Jesus is born of God and of Mary. He is a shepherd leader who looks like himself. Looking like himself is good news for us who show up looking like ourselves, with our own reasons for being here, with our own stories to tell including the burdens camouflaged by Christmas cheer.

For you…

Maybe Jesus looks like the Good Shepherd who redirects your path.

Or maybe Jesus looks like the Wonderful Counselor who calms your troubled mind.

Or maybe Jesus looks like the Prince of Peace who calms a troubled world.

Maybe Jesus looks like a prophet who challenges power and the status quo, liberates the oppressed and fills the hungry with good things.[5]

For you:

Maybe Jesus looks like the One suffering on a cross, reassuring you that God suffers with you in pain and despair.

Or maybe Jesus looks like the Savior who promises that you are never the worst thing you have done and calls you beloved.

Maybe Jesus looks like the Easter Jesus, shining and shimmering with life eternal, sharing your moment of joy as you shout “Hallelujah.”

Or perhaps he’s that other Easter Jesus who holds your fragile moment of faith and doubt, reassuring you that there is nothing you can do or not do to make God love you any more or any less.

With that long Christmas list, it’s a good thing that Jesus looks like himself, arriving in God’s time as the face of God’s love. The good news is that regardless of what you see in Jesus’ face, the fullness of Jesus is present with you because of God’s love for the world and, by extension, God’s love for you. Merry Christmas and amen.

_________________________________________________-

[1] Pastor Barbara Berry Bailey, St. Paul Lutheran Church, Denver. Discussion about Luke 2:1-20 at Metro East Preacher’s Text Study on December 21, 2022.

[2] I love the way Dr. Amanda Brobst-Renaud makes this point in her commentary on Luke 2:1-20 for WorkingPreacher.org https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/christmas-eve-nativity-of-our-lord/commentary-on-luke-21-14-15-20-16

[3] Stephen Hultgren, Lecturer of New Testament and Director of ALITE, Australian Lutheran College, North Adelaide, Australia. Commentary on Luke 2:1-20 for WorkingPreacher.org https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/christmas-eve-nativity-of-our-lord/commentary-on-luke-21-14-15-20-13

[4] Berry Bailey, ibid.

[5] Luke 1:46b-55 – Mary’s Magnificat Song when she found out she was pregnant with Jesus.

Preaching, Sermons

Impatient Patience? Yup, It’s a Thing [Matthew 11:2-11, Luke 1:46b-55, James 5:7-10]

Caitlin Trussell with Augustana Lutheran Church on December 11, 2022

[sermon begins after the Matthew Bible reading. The Luke and James readings are at the end of the sermon]

Matthew 11:2-11 When John heard in prison what the Messiah was doing, he sent word by his disciples 3and said to him, “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?” 4Jesus answered them, “Go and tell John what you hear and see: 5the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. 6And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me.”
7As they went away, Jesus began to speak to the crowds about John: “What did you go out into the wilderness to look at? A reed shaken by the wind? 8What then did you go out to see? Someone dressed in soft robes? Look, those who wear soft robes are in royal palaces. 9What then did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet. 10This is the one about whom it is written,
‘See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you,
who will prepare your way before you.’
11Truly I tell you, among those born of women no one has arisen greater than John the Baptist; yet the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.”

[sermon begins]

My friend Beth and I have talked on the phone a lot lately. She’s one of the first friends that I made when I moved to Denver in my early 20s. Our conversations move quickly between silly, serious, sacred, and back again. What a gift. Beth’s mom, Maureen O’Brien Courville, had a few rough years health-wise but her sudden and recent death was unexpected.[1] The doctor told Maureen the news that she was in her last few days of life and within minutes she started telling her kids what she wanted done with her ashes, and the service and music, and then she said, “I am gonna die sober.” She smiled and said with pride, “I don’t care, let them know I am an alcoholic.” Maureen died the next day. Her daughter-in-law texted her words to the other kids so that everyone would remember exactly what Maureen said. Beth read me the text over the phone. I said, “Oh Beth, your mother died healed.” And then she cried while I cried with her.

John the Baptist was on a timeline like Maureen although his story was slightly different. He was in prison and soon to be executed. Regardless, his message was time sensitive in his last days too and not an epitaph but a question. It’s fascinating that he asked Jesus, “Are you the one who is to come or are we to wait for another?” John had no time for patience. He was out of time. He wanted definitive answers to his questions. It’s odd that he would have them. Questions, that is. Last Sunday, we heard John’s speech earlier in the Gospel of Matthew about the powerful One who was to come after him.[2] Just after that reading, John baptized Jesus in the Jordan River after almost refusing to do because of who he thought Jesus was.[3] But in prison, John had questions. “Are you the one who is to come or are we to wait for another?” Jesus’ reply to John’s questions is awesome. Of course, it’s not “Well, yes, wait no more, I’m the one who is to come!” That would be too easy. Instead Jesus points to others who embody the answer to John’s questions – those who now see, hear, and walk; and those who are cleansed, raised, and receive good news.[4] We could summarize these folks into the ones whose lives are transformed, the ones who are healed.

I gotta tell you that that answer makes me impatient even as the James’ reading calls us to patience. In this life, in these fragile bodies, the now and not yet of God’s kingdom promise is only partially revealed. Or as the Apostle Paul says about life on earth elsewhere in the Bible, “For now we see through a glass dimly, but then we will see face to face; Now I know only in part; then I will be fully known…And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love.”[5] Paul’s words are pretty and they’re meaningful. But in the face of our human frailty, James’ call to patience is a challenge when there are folks who want to see, hear, and walk now, and when there are people who are poor who need good news now. I hear James’ call to patience which makes me hear Jesus’ response to John the Baptist as patience training.

Jesus gave clues about what God’s kingdom looks like. It looks like seeing, hearing, and walking. It looks like being raised and also like poor folks being brought good news. Not in the sweet by and by but in the sacred now. Jesus then praises John as a prophet but more than a prophet, a messenger of Jesus, a preparer of the way, greater than anyone else born. Jesus was ready to share.

I like to think of him as sharing power with John. John was a leader in his own right. He preached in the wilderness about the kingdom of heaven come near. People flocked to see him, listen to him, and be baptized by him. John the Baptist had disciples of his own as our reading today describes them in verse two. Jesus shared power with John as he praised him. How is the question about Jesus answered? Jesus shares his power. Jesus shared himself with his own disciples, with the people around him, with John, and with John’s disciples.

My friend Beth’s mother Maureen shared her power too. The day before she died, she wanted people to know her truth. First that she was sober and then that she was an alcoholic. “I am gonna die sober” she said, “I don’t care, let them know I’m an alcoholic.” She wanted it known that her body held an incredible challenge and a profound hope – both at the same time – so that her truth could serve others who may be actively struggling with their sobriety and shame, so that her truth could offer a taste of something different, a taste of hope in her rejoicing.

We sang the song of Jesus’ mother Mary as a hymn earlier in worship. Called the Magnificat because Mary sings about her soul which magnifies the Lord, proclaiming God’s greatness. She also sings about her rejoicing spirit because she consented to God’s invitation. As Mary sings, she shares her praise for God’s mercy and strength, God who lifts the lowly, fills the hungry, and inspires the rich to leave empty handed – sharing what they have, transformed by God’s promise. Mary sings and inspires a holy imagination. An imagination that acknowledges our need for God’s mercy while we make mistakes that hurt us and our neighbors and, at the same time, an imagination fueled by same power of the Holy Spirit that birthed God’s love into the world for the sake of the world. An imagination that names the tension between God’s promise and the fulfillment of God’s promise as the kingdom come here and now.[6]

As Jesus followers, we are an Advent people. Waiting on the promise of a pregnancy, a baby, a Messiah. Waiting with patience while impatiently naming the frustrations of the human condition. Claimed by hope so then able to tell the truth of our fragility, our pain, and our suffering through the eyes of a suffering Christ. There are times of suffering when the hope feels insufficient. We struggle with why things happen the way that they do. Like John the Baptist in prison, we struggle to see Jesus as the one who is coming and we wonder if we should wait for another. Like John, we long for action and answers when we find ourselves stuck in a box asking unanswerable questions.[7]

And still, like Mary, we sing as our spirits rejoice in God’s saving grace, as we endlessly clear our Advent eyes to see signs of God’s kingdom come near. We are an Advent people, waiting with impatient patience and gathered by God’s grace to proclaim the mystery of faith, a rejoicing hope, and the depth of divine love revealed in the One who is to come. Thanks be to God. And amen.

__________________________________________

[1] Beth gave me permission to use her mother’s story and name as a tribute to her mother.

[2] Matthew 3:11

[3] Matthew 3:13-17

[4] Matthew 12:4-5

[5] 1 Corinthians 13:12-13

[6] Matthew L. Skinner, Professor of New Testament, Luther Seminary, St. Paul, MN. Advent Perception for Dear Working Preacher. https://www.workingpreacher.org/dear-working-preacher/advent-perception?utm_campaign=Working%20Preacher&utm_content=230466817&utm_medium=social&utm_source=twitter&hss_channel=tw-23086402

[7] Skinner, ibid. I love this line that Dr. Skinner uses about preachers being “under the impression they’ve signed up to be part of the action, not stuck in a box.” It’s applicable to Christians more generally as well.

___________________________________________________

James 5:7-10 Be patient, therefore, beloved, until the coming of the Lord. The farmer waits for the precious crop from the earth, being patient with it until it receives the early and the late rains. 8You also must be patient. Strengthen your hearts, for the coming of the Lord is near. 9Beloved, do not grumble against one another, so that you may not be judged. See, the Judge is standing at the doors! 10As an example of suffering and patience, beloved, take the prophets who spoke in the name of the Lord.

Luke 1:46b-55 Mary’s Magnificat

And Mary* said,
‘My soul magnifies the Lord,
47   and my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour,
48 for he has looked with favour on the lowliness of his servant.
Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed;
49 for the Mighty One has done great things for me,
and holy is his name.
50 His mercy is for those who fear him
from generation to generation.
51 He has shown strength with his arm;
he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.
52 He has brought down the powerful from their thrones,
and lifted up the lowly;
53 he has filled the hungry with good things,
and sent the rich away empty.
54 He has helped his servant Israel,
in remembrance of his mercy,
55 according to the promise he made to our ancestors,
to Abraham and to his descendants for ever.’

Preaching, Sermons

First Nations Version: An Indigenous Translation of the New Testament on All Saints Sunday [OR Sainty/Sinnery Wisdom and Understanding with a Dash of Love] Ephesians 1:11-23

Pastor Caitlin Trussell with Augustana Lutheran Church on November 6, 2022

[sermon begins after Bible reading; Find the Gospel of John reading at the end of the sermon. I don’t preach on it today but it’s a good one.]

Ephesians 1:11-23   In 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.

15I have heard of your faith in the Lord Jesus and your love toward all the saints, and for this reason 16I do not cease to give thanks for you as I remember you in my prayers. 17I pray that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give you a spirit of wisdom and revelation as you come to know him, 18so that, with the eyes of your heart enlightened, you may know what is the hope to which he has called you, what are the riches of his glorious inheritance among the saints, 19and what is the immeasurable greatness of his power for us who believe, according to the working of his great power. 20God put this power to work in Christ when he raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly places, 21far above all rule and authority and power and dominion, and above every name that is named, not only in this age but also in the age to come. 22And he has put all things under his feet and has made him the head over all things for the church, 23which is his body, the fullness of him who fills all in all.

[sermon begins]

I miss my mother-in-law this time of year.Carol died seven days after Thanksgiving in 2018.[1]  She loved autumn, decorating tables with mini pumpkins along with dried leaves and seed pods of all kinds. We spent Thanksgiving with them during most of their time in Grand Junction. After I received this call to Augustana, they started coming here for Thanksgiving Eve worship and Pie Fest, adding their cans of chili to the pile. Carol’s sparkly, cornflower blue eyes were usually full of mischief. Between her salt of the earth Iowa farm girl ways and her salty language, she couldn’t be pegged into any one category. She was saint and sinnery in her own way. Carol’s last Thanksgiving included her attempt to help Rob with the turkey as he came through the sliding glass door, almost scalding herself in the process. You can take the woman out of the Iowa farm, but you can’t take the Iowa farm out of the woman. She was ready to wrestle Rob for the turkey pan although she no longer had the strength to do so. I had the instant reaction to yell, “Carol, NO! What part of ‘don’t touch the turkey’ do you not understand!” It was one of two of my most disrespectful interactions with her. The second of which was the prior Thanksgiving in a similar turkey incident.

After dinner, when she had taken her usual position at the kitchen sink (I tried to get her to sit down for 30 years), I put my arm around her shoulders and told her that I was sorry for yelling at her. She put her head on my shoulder, and said, “Aww, hon, I don’t even remember that – I love you.” I said, “I love you, too.” Seven days later, I couldn’t have been more grateful for that exchange at the kitchen sink. I’m still grateful for it and for having her in my life. Carol was the first person to ask when Rob and I were “baptizing that baby.” We’d both been away from church awhile and it honestly wasn’t our first thought. But, oh, I’m so glad she did. Baptizing Quinn and then Taryn enfolded us in a church community that we’re forever grateful for. The gospel was preached in love there. I received it as such and here I stand preaching today. It all started with baptism.

The baptismal liturgy has pieces of the Ephesians reading. There’s a prayer after the water part when the pastor places their hands on the head of the baptized and prays:

“Sustain them with the gift of your Holy Spirit, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord, the spirit of joy in your presence, both now and forever. Amen.”

The prayer in Ephesians asks that God “give a spirit of wisdom and revelation.”[1a] The baptism liturgy helps us with that word “revelation” by using the word “understanding.” Revelation means to see something new or in a new way. Understanding is the ability to interpret that new thing. A spirit of wisdom and understanding. Biblical translation and word choices are interesting. In seminary, pastors are trained in Greek and sometimes Hebrew to understand the original biblical texts. Martin Luther was the first to translate Greek and Hebrew into the German Bible. His sense of his own sin overpowered him, making God’s grace all the sweeter for him.  Every translation makes word choices to convey meaning which is why biblical literalism is a fool’s errand. But wisdom and understanding, now those are possible by the power of the Holy Spirit.

Wisdom and understanding come from experience, teaching, learning, prayer, and more. Wisdom and understanding come from having your mind blown when you think you already have the answers, being humbled by new information that doesn’t fit into your current thinking. A recent example in my own life includes reading portions of the new First Nations Version: An Indigenous Translation of the New Testament.[2] [3] First Nations is a term that started in Canada for original inhabitants of the land interchangeably called American Indians or Native Americans. The term has been accepted and used by some people in the U.S. and all over the world. The translation council, along with other First Nation people who provided feedback, represented a variety of tribes, ages, genders, denominations, and geographic locations to reduce bias.

The First Nations Version is dedicated to healing people through the “good story,” people who have suffered at the hands of our colonizing government helped by churches and missionaries, who stole their land, language, culture, and children.[4] The beauty of this new version of the New Testament is hard to describe because the words and flow have the cadence of First Nation storytelling. It would be ridiculous for me to try as a White pastor of Scandinavian and Irish descent. But much like the original and utterly scandalous German translation was liberating to 16th century Germans, and the variety of English translations find their way into English-speaking hearts, the First Nation Version attempts to do so for First Nation peoples. This new translation is one more way that the Holy Spirit brings wisdom and understanding through the diversity of the baptized.

Wisdom and understanding come through baptism which includes the theology of saint and sinner. If you hang around Lutheran Christians long enough, you’ll inevitably hear that phrase “Saint and Sinner.” The fancy pants way to say it (or tatoo ink it) is, “Simul iustus et peccator,” or “Simultaneously justified and sinner.” This means that we are both saint and sinner at the same time because of Christ’s righteousness bestowed on us in baptism and our simultaneous capacity to sin against ourselves and our neighbors. If you read into the next verses of Ephesians, after the sainty parts in our reading today, you’ll get to the trespass and sin part. When I’m out in the community or formally welcoming folks at the beginning of a funeral, I’ll sometimes bring greetings or welcome “from the Sinner/Saints of Augustana Lutheran Church.” The phrase is just confusing enough to make it intriguing, while at the same time acknowledging who we are in the world.

On All Saints Sunday we acknowledge the saints who have died, completing their baptismal journeys and celebrating in the company of all the saints in light. This is not to say that they were perfect people doing miraculous things. Rather, it’s to say that God’s promises through their baptisms draw them ever closer to God right on through their last breath. I find myself in both grief and gratitude on All Saints Sunday. I think of the people who are named in worship and their impact on my own faith and on our congregation. I think of the people I still miss – my father, stepfather, in laws, grandparents, friends, and patients.

And I think about the sinner/saints who persevered in faithfulness as the church so that I could hear a word of grace in Jesus Christ when I most needed it. I’m here because of their word of grace and their words of wisdom and understanding. I’m in awe of the wisdom of our youngest sinner/saints who bless us with their thinking week after week on the Sanctuary steps, right through to our eldest elders who we visit in their homes. I’m bowled over by the wisdom and understanding of sinner/saints who write or podcast about their faith and experience with the God of grace. I’m transformed by sinner/saints around the world and right here at home who speak different cultural and actual languages to talk about Jesus and his self-sacrificing love of us. All of us. Every single last one of us until, at the end of our baptismal journeys, God will bring us through the death and resurrection of Jesus into the company of all the saints in light.

All the wisdom and understanding in the world is just noise if we do not have love. The Ephesians letter in our reading today thanks the church for their love and their faith before praying that they receive wisdom and understanding. This is a time in the world when we need our sinner/saints who pray for us and who teach us to pray from that love. Much like the prayers for the Ephesians taught us to pray. Much like Carol taught me the prayers that were passed down through their family to her. Not perfect. Just perfectly loved by God and imperfectly lived out God’s love. I’m grateful for them. And I’m grateful for you, dear sinner/saints, as we get to be church with and for each other in these weird times in the world.

Thanks be to God. And amen.

__________________________________________________

[1] https://www.legacy.com/us/obituaries/gjsentinel/name/carol-trussell-obituary?id=10109452

[1a] Ephesians 1:17

[2] Terry M. Wildman. First Nations Version: An Indigenous Translation of the New Testament (Downers Grove, Illinois: First Varsity Press, 2021).

[3] I’m pretty grateful for Don Troike, Augustana member and retired Biology professor, who told me about the First Nations Version and lent me his copy.

[4] Read about First Nation history of boarding schools and the ELCA’s confession and intentions here: https://religionnews.com/2022/08/11/reckoning-with-role-in-boarding-schools-elca-makes-declaration-to-indigenous-peoples/

__________________________________________________

Luke 6:20-31  Then [Jesus] looked up at his disciples and said:
“Blessed are you who are poor,
for yours is the kingdom of God.
21“Blessed are you who are hungry now,
for you will be filled.
“Blessed are you who weep now,
for you will laugh.
22“Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you on account of the Son of Man. 23Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, for surely your reward is great in heaven; for that is what their ancestors did to the prophets.
24“But woe to you who are rich,
for you have received your consolation.
25“Woe to you who are full now,
for you will be hungry.
“Woe to you who are laughing now,
for you will mourn and weep.
26“Woe to you when all speak well of you, for that is what their ancestors did to the false prophets.
27“But I say to you that listen, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, 28bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. 29If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt. 30Give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again. 31Do to others as you would have them do to you.”

Preaching, Sermons

Risking the Least Broken Choice [OR What’s Self-Interest Got to Do With It?] 

Caitlin Trussell with Augustana Lutheran Church on September 18, 2022

[sermon begins after the Bible reading]

Luke 16:1-13 Then Jesus said to the disciples, “There was a rich man who had a manager, and charges were brought to him that this man was squandering his property. 2So he summoned him and said to him, ‘What is this that I hear about you? Give me an accounting of your management, because you cannot be my manager any longer.’ 3Then the manager said to himself, ‘What will I do, now that my master is taking the position away from me? I am not strong enough to dig, and I am ashamed to beg. 4I have decided what to do so that, when I am dismissed as manager, people may welcome me into their homes.’ 5So, summoning his master’s debtors one by one, he asked the first, ‘How much do you owe my master?’ 6He answered, ‘A hundred jugs of olive oil.’ He said to him, ‘Take your bill, sit down quickly, and make it fifty.’ 7Then he asked another, ‘And how much do you owe?’ He replied, ‘A hundred containers of wheat.’ He said to him, ‘Take your bill and make it eighty.’ 8And his master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly; for the children of this age are more shrewd in dealing with their own generation than are the children of light. 9And I tell you, make friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth so that when it is gone, they may welcome you into the eternal homes.
10“Whoever is faithful in a very little is faithful also in much; and whoever is dishonest in a very little is dishonest also in much. 11If then you have not been faithful with the dishonest wealth, who will entrust to you the true riches? 12And if you have not been faithful with what belongs to another, who will give you what is your own? 13No slave can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth.”

[sermon begins]

Once a week, Pastor Ann and I get to hang out at Preacher’s Text Study with other Lutheran pastors. Mostly on Zoom, once a month in person, we talk with our colleagues about the Bible verses for the coming Sunday. We play with crazy ideas that would never preach, daring each other with the occasional, “I’ll give you a buck if you use that in a sermon.” So far, we’re all smart enough not to use those things in sermons. And sometimes we encourage each other with a solid, “That’ll preach!” Text study is a good way to avoid being a one-sermon wonder – although I’ve no doubt that you guys would totally be able to name my top favorite sermon themes. It’s also a good way to let the Holy Spirit live large, shattering assumptions and mischief-making with the texts. Last week’s text study was no exception. You can see why in the parable.

On first blush, Jesus’ parable seems to make a mockery of the life that he’s been demanding of his followers. The dishonest steward seems to end up okay, even commended by his master for acting shrewdly. Text study conversation went all over the place. Topics jumped quickly from the Mafia, staying Christian, John Wayne, Alcoholics Anonymous, righteous indignation, Puritanism, St. Francis of Assisi, and Robin Hood. One of my colleagues saved the field day with the biblical Greek meanings of “shrewd,” most often translated as “wise,” and of the word “dishonest” which is the less common translation of that word. More commonly, the Greek word for dishonest is translated “unrighteous.” Either way, we’re in a bind. Is Jesus’ telling us that it doesn’t matter how money is managed? That can’t be right. If that can’t be right, what gets us closer to Jesus’ teachings about money throughout the Gospel of Luke?

First century Galilee was occupied by Roman landlords and rulers who were loan sharks, tacking on high interest rates that could never be paid back so that they could acquire family land belonging to peasants when they couldn’t repay their loans.[1] At the time, it was common for landlords and their managers to pad the cost of things, adding 25-50% profit margins to the price.[2] Meanwhile, Jews had biblical commands about fair loans and debt forgiveness. Debt forgiveness was so much a thing for Jews that every 50 years a Jubilee year was commanded in which people were released from debt, prisoners and slaves were freed, and borrowed property was returned.[3] In this light, it’s possible that Jesus’ parable implicates the master AND the manager. We’re not told, but it’s possible that the manager was forgiving his percentage of the inflated price which maintained the master’s cut while reducing the peasants’ costs, leaving nothing for himself. This jives with verse 12, about being faithful with what belongs to another which can also be read as being faithful to what belongs to the peasants.[4] This reading of the parable lines up with Luke’s gospel in other places where Jesus’ talks about poverty and wealth but it’s unclear enough to keep us guessing.

So, we could argue that the shrewd manager was faithful with his dishonest wealth, sacrificing his own profit margins (not the landlords) so that he can be welcomed by the people he had ripped off when he loses his job. The bottom line is that the manager is commended for acting out of self-interest which also lightened the load of the peasants in debt. Everyone loves a good Robin Hood story – stealing from the rich and giving to the poor, making a bad thing good. But this doesn’t quite fit. This story has a different twist to it. The manager quite possibly didn’t rob from the rich. The manager robbed from himself for self-preservation. He said it himself in verses 3 and 4, “What will I do, now that my master is taking the position away from me? I am not strong enough to dig, and I am ashamed to beg. I have decided what to do so that, when I am dismissed as manager, people may welcome me into their homes.”

Self-interest is a powerful thing. Self-interest doesn’t pull the heartstrings like stories of self-forgetting or self-sacrificing, like saving someone from a raging river and dying in their place. But self-interest does have its place when it lines up with Jesus’ command to “love your neighbor as yourself.”[5] Let’s take the real-time example here in Denver of housing unhoused folks. There could be many reasons why housing unhoused people would be important to you:

  • You yourself are unhoused and need a place to live.
  • You don’t want to see people camping on the street because there are no accessible restrooms which causes a public health problem.
  • You have a business and want customers to have clear access to your storefront and parking.
  • You’re tired of taking phone calls at your place of work about unhoused people.
  • You feel bad for people who don’t have a place to live.
  • You don’t want to give money to unhoused people at street corners.
  • You get the idea.

Uniting the self-interests of all the people who care about this issue can transform isolated self-interest into collective will to actually solve the problem of people who need a place to live.[6]

As Lutheran Christians, we believe that we are simultaneously saint and sinner by our baptisms. Being a sinner means that we’re capable of just about anything when left to our own devices in the right set of circumstances for self-preservation. Being a saint also means that we’re capable of just about anything given the right set of circumstances and given the power of the Holy Spirit. Turns out that Christians are just as unpredictable as everyone else. Lutheran Christians long ago adopted the phrase, “Sin Boldly.” This probably doesn’t mean what it sounds like it means. Please don’t run out of here today saying that your pastor told you that you can do whatever you want. Sinning boldly means that risks can be taken. If we know that sin is part of how we move through the world, then sinning boldly means taking the least broken choice and taking risks on behalf of God and neighbor.

Jesus’ parable isn’t metaphorical. Jesus tells this parable about money because it’s about money. The manager is trying to save his own skin. His shrewd self-interest is lauded in part because he risked a win-win solution that paid off for the people who couldn’t afford it any other way. He sinned boldly! He used his own dishonestly gained wealth to find that win-win, to reduce the debt of the very peasants who he hoped would welcome him. It’s important to read this parable NOT as if all bets are off and dishonesty is rewarded. But rather, read this parable as if Jesus is saying, “Game on!” Game on faithful people.

Any economic system is susceptible to greed, extreme wealth, and the exploitation of people. We just so happen to live in a capitalist economic structure. Faithful questions about money include:

  • Who is profiting, who is massively profiting, and who is being exploited?
  • Whose debt is or isn’t forgiven? Individual debt? Business debt?
  • Whose activities are subsidized with money not their own, and whose aren’t, be they individuals or institutions?
  • Who is being worshipped? Is it God? Or is it the idol of wealth?

The clearest thing that Jesus says in today’s reading is, “You cannot serve God and wealth.” It may be said clearly but it’s understood as clear as mud.

As God’s baptized people, Jesus’ teachings about money may honestly and courageously be wrestled with like everything else in life. Whoever said that it’s not polite to talk about money or politics did us a disservice because now we’re a whole bunch of people who don’t know how to talk about money or politics. Talking about money, wealth, and poverty takes honesty and courage. Honesty about our self-interest and the courage to listen to other people’s self-interest is a good place to start. And it can even be fun once we get the hang of it. We are freed by Jesus to talk about hard things and risk sinning boldly because we are a forgiven and free people set to work in this world that God so loves which, by definition, means God loves you too.

Thanks be to God. And amen.

_______________________________________________________

[1] Barbara Rossing, Professor of New Testament, Lutheran School of Theology at Chicago, Chicago, IL. Commentary on Luke 16:1-9 for Working Preacher. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-25-3/commentary-on-luke-161-13-2

[2] Rossing, ibid.

[3] Year of Jubilee: https://www.gotquestions.org/Jubilee.html

[4] Rossing, ibid.

[5] Luke 10:25-28

[6] More on self-interest here: https://www.faithactionhawaii.org/post/25th-anniversary-reflection-self-interest-means-self-among-others

Preaching, Sermons

No Time Like the Present to Catch Up on Beauty Rest [OR God Loves People, Not Power: Check Out the Commandment to Rest] Luke 13:10-17

Caitlin Trussell with Augustana Lutheran Church on August 21, 2022

[sermon begins after the Bible reading]

Luke 13:10-17 Now [Jesus] was teaching in one of the synagogues on the sabbath. 11And just then there appeared a woman with a spirit that had crippled her for eighteen years. She was bent over and was quite unable to stand up straight. 12When Jesus saw her, he called her over and said, “Woman, you are set free from your ailment.” 13When he laid his hands on her, immediately she stood up straight and began praising God. 14But the leader of the synagogue, indignant because Jesus had cured on the sabbath, kept saying to the crowd, “There are six days on which work ought to be done; come on those days and be cured, and not on the sabbath day.” 15But the Lord answered him and said, “You hypocrites! Does not each of you on the sabbath untie his ox or his donkey from the manger, and lead it away to give it water? 16And ought not this woman, a daughter of Abraham whom Satan bound for eighteen long years, be set free from this bondage on the sabbath day?” 17When he said this, all his opponents were put to shame; and the entire crowd was rejoicing at all the wonderful things that he was doing.

[sermon begins]

“Remember the sabbath and keep it holy.”[1] Let’s geek out on that for a minute. It’s the third commandment of the big ten. In the Bible books of Exodus and Deuteronomy, this commandment is given with extra emphasis on who gets to rest. God commands rest for all the people – free people, enslaved people, and alien residents in the land. God commands rest for animals too – ox, donkey, and all livestock. In Exodus, the command is given to honor God’s rest on the seventh day after creating creation. In Deuteronomy, the command is given because the Hebrew people were once slaves without rest in Egypt, so rest is not to be taken for granted. In both books, the sabbath command is “to the Lord your God.” Resting to the Lord. Resting in the Lord. A holy day of rest. Breathe that in for minute. Holy rest for everyone and everything. Holiness for everyone and everything.

Holy rest. Holiness. Sabbath. A thing of beauty but a different kind of beauty rest. When we put it this way, it’s easier to have compassion for the synagogue leader when Jesus heals the woman from a crippling spirit on the Sabbath. Holy rest is hard to come by. We all know it. We know it bone deep – deep in the weariness that cripples our own spirits. But unless we have a daily battle that’s physical or cultural, it’s tough to appreciate the woman’s moment in the story. And Jesus had a way of expanding commandments at inopportune times, disrupting the moment while freeing the person in pain. Perhaps we could say he blew apart holiness only to reform it into something even holier. Jesus is always one step ahead, isn’t he? At least one step ahead, disrupting what we think should be happening with what God thinks should be happening. Jesus taking action is sometimes called good news or gospel. But in Lutheran Christian land, we often talk about law and gospel because law is often on the flipside of the gospel. We’re both freed by Jesus’ actions while at the same time convicted by Jesus’ actions.

Much like the synagogue leader whose reaction to Jesus’ action was angst and indignation, our reactions to law can be similar. Sabbath rest is a great example of law and gospel. Here we are this morning, Sabbath resting to God, listening to God’s word, reassured by God’s presence and promise in our lives. That’s gospel. At the same time, there are people who can’t be here, people who can’t take a Sabbath rest because they’re working. So, is Sabbath rest optional? Is Sabbath rest just for some of us? That can’t be right. Deuteronomy includes the alien in your lands, not just people who follow God’s command. Do we assume that everyone is able to rest at other times? Have we constructed a society in which rest isn’t for everyone? Is it possible that there is no such thing as true Sabbath rest until even the most vulnerable among us may rest?

The discomfort grows as the questions smolder. Much like when Jesus asks questions in our reading and his opponents were put to shame. Shame is an unhelpful emotion. Regret is a more useful cousin of shame because we learn from regret what it is we don’t want to do again. Regret edges us towards being convicted by the law which provokes our discomfort. It helps us by shaking us free to see our neighbor’s situation differently and therefore our own situation differently. Rev. Dr. King talked about something similar when he explained changing society through nonviolent resistance. He said:

This approach doesn’t make the white man feel comfortable. I think it does the other thing. It disturbs the conscience, and it disturbs the sense of contentment that he’s had.[2]

In our Bible story this morning, Jesus healed the woman from a crippling spirit. For her, freedom from 18 years of being enslaved to that spirit freed her for a Sabbath rest like none in her recent past. There was nothing more holy than her freedom in merciful healing. As she stood straight, she was living and breathing pure gospel. For that moment in time, she embodied the good news of Jesus. But her vertical body made another body uncomfortable. Maybe it’s like Rev. Dr. King said. Jesus’ approach didn’t make the synagogue leader feel comfortable. It did the other thing. It disturbed his conscience, and it disturbed the sense of contentment that he had. I would say that it disturbed his own ideas about the holy with a greater holiness.

When Jesus healed the woman, he changed at least two people’s perspectives. The woman saw the world around her at everyone else’s eye level for a change. Her perspective literally shifted from looking at the floor to looking people in the eye. The synagogue leader saw the woman’s healing as a disruption to Sabbath holiness rather than her healing as holiness. His perspective shifted when Jesus started asking questions and realized he wasn’t right. All of this to say that I wonder how greater holiness raises questions, disturbs our conscience, and shifts our perspective. I wonder where the law convicts us, and the gospel heals us simultaneously through Jesus’ actions.

In this summer’s Eucharistic Prayer during communion, we praise God’s merciful might in taking on flesh as Jesus our healer, while we remember his cross and praise his resurrection. In our weekly communion celebration, the praise for God’s mercy links first to the cross. On the cross is where God in Jesus chooses vulnerability and refuses to raise a hand in violence against the world God loves. Jesus absorbed human violence into death, burying it in a tomb, and revealing a love so powerful that even death could not end it.

A love that now lives in us as the body of Christ, the church. Sometimes the church is called the Body of Christ because Christ’s death and resurrection promise lives in us through our baptisms which empowers us by the Holy Spirit to love God, and to love our neighbors as ourselves. But I wonder how we as the church more quickly react like the synagogue leader when our perspective of holiness is challenged rather than like the body of Christ from whom Christ’s love pours out to renew an exhausted world, deeply in need of rest and the reminder that God loves people, not power.

Jesus made himself vulnerable to power when he healed the woman in pain despite it being the Sabbath rest day. Embodying God’s love and mercy was high risk for him. God’s mercy is so radical that the world as it was, and as it is now, could not fathom a holier way. A holier way through which there is no time like the present to receive God’s love and mercy. And there’s no time like the present to give away God’s love and mercy. God’s merciful might is revealed through Jesus, our healer, who pours out his love for us here in this place of Sabbath rest, promising rest through disruption, pardon through conviction, and life through death. For this and for all that God is doing, we can say thanks be to God. And amen.

____________________________________________

[1] Deuteronomy 5:12-15 and Exodus 20:8-10 – Remember the sabbath and keep it holy…

[2] See video here: https://twitter.com/BerniceKing/status/1558245621064146944

Preaching, Sermons

Peace for Today [OR Check Out Lydia’s Bible Story – She’s Cool] John 14:23-29 and Acts 16.9-15

Caitlin Trussell with Augustana Lutheran Church on May 22, 2022

[sermon begins after two Bible readings]

John 14:23-29 Jesus answered [Judas (not Iscariot),] “Those who love me will keep my word, and my Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them. 24Whoever does not love me does not keep my words; and the word that you hear is not mine, but is from the Father who sent me.
25“I have said these things to you while I am still with you. 26But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you everything, and remind you of all that I have said to you. 27Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid. 28You heard me say to you, ‘I am going away, and I am coming to you.’ If you loved me, you would rejoice that I am going to the Father, because the Father is greater than I. 29And now I have told you this before it occurs, so that when it does occur, you may believe.”

Acts 16.9-15 During the night Paul had a vision: there stood a man of Macedonia pleading with him and saying, “Come over to Macedonia and help us.” 10When he had seen the vision, we immediately tried to cross over to Macedonia, being convinced that God had called us to proclaim the good news to them. 11We set sail from Troas and took a straight course to Samothrace, the following day to Neapolis, 12and from there to Philippi, which is a leading city of the district of Macedonia and a Roman colony. We remained in this city for some days. 13On the sabbath day we went outside the gate by the river, where we supposed there was a place of prayer; and we sat down and spoke to the women who had gathered there. 14A certain woman named Lydia, a worshiper of God, was listening to us; she was from the city of Thyatira and a dealer in purple cloth. The Lord opened her heart to listen eagerly to what was said by Paul. 15When she and her household were baptized, she urged us, saying, “If you have judged me to be faithful to the Lord, come and stay at my home.” And she prevailed upon us.

[sermon begins]

I want to follow up on something in my sermon from last Sunday when I talked about faith not protecting us from bad things happening. We can look around the room and around the world and see that that’s true. Bad stuff happens to faithful people as much as it happens to everyone else. We don’t know why. We just know it’s the way the world works. A lot of time and energy is spent on trying to answer the “why” question though. I’m more interested in the “what now” question. Maybe I gave that away when I went on to mention how faith strengthens us and gives us courage. When I read the scripture readings for this Sunday, Jesus’ words jumped out at me:

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.”  Jesus’ words have been true for me. Not in a stoic way – as if emotions don’t happen or don’t matter. Not in a disengaged way – as if I now have permission to check out of the world’s troubles. Jesus’ words are true for me in a deep-down way – where life is intensely meaningful because it’s life. The other day I had one of those moments during the lunar eclipse. We had chairs lined up in our driveway and our neighbors set up a second row behind us. Watching the earth’s shadow cast itself slowly over the moon until the moon was fully shadowed, gave the moon a 3D look with a spooky reddish-brown color. It struck me, not for the first time, how odd and beautiful our existence is, not to mention our planet and our universe which transcends into the divine.

Jesus speaks from a divine abiding place when he talks about peace. He mentions the Father who will make a home with them as well as the Advocate, the Holy Spirit that will remind and teach – a combined transcendent power that coalesces in the person of Jesus. The mystery of the universe and the mystery of Jesus are similar mysteries to me. Sure, you can explain black holes and string theory to me while I explain theology and Christian ethics to you, but at the end of the day both the Blood Moon and the fully-human-fully-divine Jesus are ineffable. Our explanations simply can’t do justice to our experience of them.

For instance, there’s a thing that happens to me when someone repeatedly comes to mind. I call it a Holy Spirit nudge because when I call and check in with that person there’s often a really good reason that the call’s timing was important. It’s never 100% reliable. (PSA: Don’t try this at home – call me if you need to talk with me.) I can’t explain the feeling but I’m familiar enough with it now that ignoring it feels uncomfortable, like I’m missing an important appointment. We could argue until kingdom come about whether that feeling is experience playing into instinct or whether it’s the Holy Spirit but my way of explaining the mystery of it is to call it the Holy Spirit.

I wonder if this is a bit like what the Apostle Paul and his friends experienced when they set sail after Paul’s vision of a man in Macedonia who begged them to come and help. Paul’s vision is a heck of lot more dramatic than my nagging feeling to give someone a call. This story in the book of Acts charts quite a course – from Troas to Samothrace to Neapolis until landing in Philippi located in the northeast of what is modern day Greece. Thank God for the Sabbath which gave Paul, Silas, and Timothy a chance to catch their breath, recentering themselves in a place of prayer outside the gate by the river. The place where they met Lydia. Her story is just a few verses so it’s slightly irrational how much I love it. There are a few gems worth noting. Lydia was likely an independent businesswoman since she and her household weren’t named with a husband. Purple cloth was difficult to make, highly prized by royalty, and quite expensive. Lydia was faithful and generous – hosting her new Jesus-following friends after she and her household were baptized. Lydia’s story is one of several in the Bible that describes household baptisms which are part of how the church included infant baptism in its practice.

I wonder how Lydia would have described her experience with the new guys at the place of prayer. She may not have had the churchy words to use at first, but I wonder if she was able to find more words looking back at her time before and after her river baptism. Or if the mystery of her experience was difficult to fully explain. Whatever her explanation, Lydia and her household’s baptisms were foundational to the church in Philippi. The church to which Paul wrote his letter to the Philippians. As I was writing this sermon, I read the opening of Paul’s letter to the Philippians and found that reading it in light of Lydia’s conversion changed my hearing of it. Next Sunday’s Acts reading tells one more significant story about Paul, Silas, and Timothy’s time in Philippi before departing to Thessalonica.

Man, I love the Bible. I love that we have these early stories at first only shared verbally and then finally written down to be shared across faith communities across time. Sometimes we get lost in the nitty gritty of the accuracy of the stories or the legitimacy of the claims. For me, teasing each story apart, putting it back together, and finding gems that apply to my life is the teaching and reminding work of the Holy Spirit that Jesus talks about in our reading today. We never fully arrive to a conclusion about a Bible story. Or maybe it’s more accurate to say that a Bible story is never fully done with us. They are gifts that keep on giving across our lives. It took some courage for me to even begin my way back into the Bible as adult. I’d been out of its loop for about ten years and only very tentatively began to turn its pages. Jesus’ encouragement to have untroubled hearts, and to be fearless, are part of what has helped me enjoy the layers of meaning in any given verse or set of verses as well as the subtle perspective shifts and not so subtle disagreements between writers of the different books of the Bible.

I know that I say this in sermons with some regularity but it’s important to understand that God’s salvation in Jesus by the power of the Holy Spirit through faith is not based on our right thinking or on orthodoxy or doctrine. The words that we give our experiences by faith are important for sure. Paul and Lydia’s story is a case in point. But God’s power is greater than anything I might say or anything you might do. It’s one of the reasons I’m grateful that communion comes after the sermon. No matter what mess I may make of things from the pulpit, God gets the last word. That’s a life lesson too. No matter what mess I may make of my life, God gets the last word. Today, God’s last word comes from Jesus in a blessing of peace.

I don’t know about you, but I need Jesus’ peace this week. The divine peace that sustains existentially through the day-to-day joys, sorrows, and everything in between. Paradoxically, this is the very peace that’s needed to stay deeply engaged with the world and all its problems. As I’ve been connecting with people on a recent continuing ed trip to Montgomery (Alabama), then connecting with people in Loveland at Synod Assembly, here at church, at the gym, in my family, with my friends, I don’t think I’m the only one who needs Jesus’ peace. There’s an emotional defcon level across our culture that seems unsustainable. Those reactive emotions tend to dampen joy that’s ours because life is meaningful simply because it’s life. Today, in this very moment, and in the next month, and for life eternal, Jesus gives you peace by the power of the Holy Spirit through the mystery of an ineffable God. May God’s peace untrouble your hearts and give you strength and courage on this Sabbath day. Thanks be to God and amen.

Sermons

Good Friday is for Weary Souls [OR The Life-Giving Heart of God] John 18:1 – John 19:42 and Psalm 22

**sermon art: The Crucifixion by Laura James  https://www.laurajamesart.com/laura-james-bio/

Caitlin Trussell with Augustana Lutheran Church on April 15, 2022

[sermon begins after the Bible readings]

John 18:1 – John 19:42 excerpts

So they took Jesus; 17and carrying the cross by himself, he went out to what is called The Place of the Skull, which in Hebrew is called Golgotha. 18There they crucified him, and with him two others, one on either side, with Jesus between them. 25bMeanwhile, standing near the cross of Jesus were his mother, and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. 26When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing beside her, he said to his mother, “Woman, here is
your son.” 27Then he said to the disciple, “Here is your mother.” And from that hour the disciple took her into his own home. 28After this, when Jesus knew that all was now finished, he said (in order to fulfill the scripture), “I am thirsty.” 29A jar full of sour wine was standing there. So they put a sponge full of the wine on a branch of hyssop and held it to his mouth. 30When Jesus had received the wine, he said, “It is finished.” Then he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.

40They took the body of Jesus and wrapped it with the spices in linen cloths, according to the burial custom of the Jews. 42And so, because it was the Jewish day of Preparation, and the tomb was nearby, they laid Jesus there.

Psalm 22  may be found in full at the end of the sermon. Verse 1 is most relevant to the sermon: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

[sermon begins]

Today is a day for weary souls. Bone-tired souls who see Good Friday everywhere. We see it in the million deaths from Covid in our country and six million deaths around the world. In the murderous invasion of Ukraine by Russia. In a subway station shootout in New York. In a traffic stop turned execution in Michigan. In each overdose death that breaks a family’s heart. In our own experience of loss and grief due to illness, addiction, or accident. Oh yes, we see the suffering and we struggle to make sense of it, to connect it with our faith, to take action against it or alongside it. We see and experience the suffering and our powerlessness and lack of resolve to stop it. Today is a day for weary souls.

There’s a special effect used in movies when the fast-paced, fast-forwarded action suddenly slows into second-by-second slow-motion. We watchers have enough time to see and absorb a key part of the story. Good Friday has that quality. It’s a sacred pause that reveals the crux of the matter, the truth of life and death, the heart of the story, the heart of God. Contemplating the cross, the Christ, each other, and ourselves, God cradles our soul-fatigue in God’s heart.[1]

Today is a day to remember that we are not alone. Good Friday signifies the suffering of the world and God suffering with us, God absorbing our suffering into God’s heart. But it’s also a day that God’s shared suffering with us often feels insufficient because suffering is exhausting and isolating, and we feel alone. Jesus’ cry from the cross could be our own, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me.”[2]

Good Friday tells the truth about suffering. The level we inflict suffering on each other, and on the earth and all its creatures, knows no bounds. Most of us are capable of just about anything given the right set of circumstances. But today isn’t about shame games. Jesus took shame with him onto the cross and shame died there too. The death of shame is life giving. The death of shame clears our eyes to see ourselves and each other with compassion, as Christ sees us with compassion. There’s a sung chant for Good Friday. The cantor sings, “Behold the life-giving cross on which was hung the Savior of the whole word.” The Savior of the whole world delivers us from evil – in ourselves and other people.

Good Friday isn’t about only pointing away from ourselves at other people who cause suffering. It’s also a sacred space to wonder and confess the suffering that we cause as well. Confessions of sin extend to systems that we’re a part of – institutions, countries, governments, families, friendships, communities, etc. Systems that hold us captive to sin from which we cannot free ourselves. What does free us? The life-giving cross. Life-giving because the shame-game, the image game, the perfection game, the self-righteous game, all the games we play against each other shatter in the shadow of the cross.

Through the life-giving cross, Christ sees us with compassion. Last Sunday’s Gospel reading from Luke included Jesus’ words of compassion, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” Jesus’ words are not carte blanche for murder and mayhem. His prayer to forgive us reminds us that we often act without awareness of how our actions may hurt someone else. That’s why our worship confessions talk about things we’ve done and things we’ve failed to do. That’s why we talk about our sin. Sin gives us language for the way we hurt other people and ourselves with our actions – actions that separate from each other and God. Good Friday creates a slow-motion pause for us to experience life-giving compassion from the heart of God in the face of our sin. God’s compassion also reminds us that Jesus’ death isn’t payment to an angry God or a hungry devil. That’s just divine child abuse. Jesus is a revelation to a weary world, taking violence into himself on the cross, transforming death through self-sacrifice, and revealing the depth of divine love.

God reveals the truth of our death dealing ways while reminding us that God’s intention for humankind is good.[3] Jesus was fully human and fully divine. His life’s ministry and his death on the cross reveal our humanity and the goodness for which we were created. The life-giving cross awakens us to that goodness. Jesus’ full and fragile humanity was displayed from the cross. He sacrificed himself to the people who killed him for his radical, excessive love, rather than raise a hand in violence against the people and the world that God so loves. Jesus’ self-sacrificing goodness clears our eyes to see God’s intention for our human life together.

Our connection with each other is also a Good Friday truth for the weary soul. From the cross, Jesus redefined connection, kinship, and companionship:

“Meanwhile, standing near the cross of Jesus were his mother, and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. 26When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing beside her, he said to his mother, “Woman, here is your son.” 27Then he said to the disciple, “Here is your mother.” And from that hour the disciple took her into his own home.” [4]

Jesus connects people through suffering. This is not a reason for suffering. Simply a truth about it. When we suffer and feel most alone and weary to our souls, Jesus reaches out from his own suffering to remind us that we have each other. God’s heart revealed through the cross destroys the illusion of our aloneness and connects us to each other once more. In God we live and move and have our being through the life-giving cross. In each other, we’re given kinship and appreciation for the gift and mystery of being alive.

In the end, the cross isn’t about us at all. It’s about the self-sacrificing love of Jesus who reveals God’s ways to show us the logical end of ours – our death-dealing ways in the face of excessive grace and radical love. We simply can’t believe that God applies this grace and love to everyone. It hard enough to believe that there’s a God who loves us. It’s downright offensive that God loves our greatest enemy as much as God loves us. But that is God’s promise for our weary souls on Good Friday. There is nothing you can do or not do to make God love you any more or any less. “Behold the life-giving cross on which hung the Savior of the whole world. Come let us worship him.”[5]

______________________________________________________________

[1] @BerniceKing via Twitter, 7:38 PM – 13 Apr 22. Ms. King tweeted about “soul-fatigue” and Patrick Lyoya being shot by the police officer who pulled him over during a traffic stop. https://twitter.com/BerniceKing/status/1514417869861306374

[2] Matthew 27:46

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

[4] John 19:25b-27

[5] A sung chant for Good Friday.

_______________________________________________________________

Psalm 22

1My God, my God, why have you for- | saken me?
Why so far from saving me, so far from the words | of my groaning?
2My God, I cry out by day, but you | do not answer;
by night, but I | find no rest.
3Yet you are the | Holy One,
enthroned on the prais- | es of Israel.
4Our ancestors put their | trust in you,
they trusted, and you | rescued them. R
5They cried out to you and | were delivered;
they trusted in you and were not | put to shame.
6But as for me, I am a worm | and not human,
scorned by all and despised | by the people.
7All who see me laugh | me to scorn;
they curl their lips; they | shake their heads.
8“Trust in the Lord; let the | Lord deliver;
let God rescue him if God so de- | lights in him.” R
9Yet you are the one who drew me forth | from the womb,
and kept me safe on my | mother’s breast.
10I have been entrusted to you ever since | I was born;
you were my God when I was still in my | mother’s womb.
11Be not far from me, for trou- | ble is near,
and there is no | one to help.
12Many young bulls en- | circle me;
strong bulls of Ba- | shan surround me. R
13They open wide their | jaws at me,
like a slashing and | roaring lion.
14I am poured out like water; all my bones are | out of joint;
my heart within my breast is | melting wax.
15My strength is dried up like a potsherd; my tongue sticks to the roof | of my mouth;
and you have laid me in the | dust of death.
16Packs of dogs close me in, a band of evildoers | circles round me;
they pierce my hands | and my feet. R
17I can count | all my bones
while they stare at | me and gloat.
18They divide my gar- | ments among them;
for my clothing, | they cast lots.
19But you, O Lord, be not | far away;
O my help, hasten | to my aid.
20Deliver me | from the sword,
my life from the power | of the dog.
21Save me from the | lion’s mouth!
From the horns of wild bulls you have | rescued me.
22I will declare your name | to my people;
in the midst of the assembly | I will praise you. R
23You who fear the Lord, give praise! All you of Jacob’s | line, give glory.
Stand in awe of the Lord, all you off- | spring of Israel.
24For the Lord does not despise nor abhor the poor in their poverty; neither is the Lord’s face hid- | den from them;
but when they cry out, | the Lord hears them.
25From you comes my praise in the | great assembly;
I will perform my vows in the sight of those who | fear the Lord.
26The poor shall eat | and be satisfied,
Let those who seek the Lord give praise! May your hearts | live forever!
27All the ends of the earth shall remember and turn | to the Lord;
all the families of nations shall bow | before God.
28For dominion belongs | to the Lord,
who rules o- | ver the nations. R
29Indeed, all who sleep in the earth shall bow | down in worship;
all who go down to the dust, though they be dead, shall kneel be- | fore the Lord.
30Their descendants shall | serve the Lord,
whom they shall proclaim to genera- | tions to come.
31They shall proclaim God’s deliverance to a people | yet unborn,
saying to them, “The | Lord has acted!” R

Preaching, Sermons

God is Love [OR It Can’t Just Be About Love…Can It?] Luke 13:1-9 and 1 John 4:7-21

Caitlin Trussell with Augustana Lutheran Church in Denver, Third Sunday in Lent, March 20, 2022

[sermon begins after 2 Bible readings]

Luke 13:1-9   At that very time there were some present who told him about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices.2[Jesus] asked them, “Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans?3No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did. 4Or those eighteen who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them—do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others living in Jerusalem? 5No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did.”

6Then he told this parable: “A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard; and he came looking for fruit on it and found none. 7So he said to the gardener, ‘See here! For three years I have come looking for fruit on this fig tree, and still I find none. Cut it down! Why should it be wasting the soil?’ 8He replied, ‘Sir, let it alone for one more year, until I dig around it and put manure on it. 9If it bears fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down.’

 

1 John 4:8b-21  God is love. 9God’s love was revealed among us in this way: God sent his only Son into the world so that we might live through him. 10In this is love, not that we loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the atoning sacrifice for our sins. 11Beloved, since God loved us so much, we also ought to love one another. 12No one has ever seen God; if we love one another, God lives in us, and his love is perfected in us.
13By this we know that we abide in him and he in us, because he has given us of his Spirit. 14And we have seen and do testify that the Father has sent his Son as the Savior of the world. 15God abides in those who confess that Jesus is the Son of God, and they abide in God. 16So we have known and believe the love that God has for us.
God is love, and those who abide in love abide in God, and God abides in them. 17Love has been perfected among us in this: that we may have boldness on the day of judgment, because as he is, so are we in this world. 18There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear; for fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not reached perfection in love. 19We love because he first loved us. 20Those who say, “I love God,” and hate their brothers or sisters, are liars; for those who do not love a brother or sister whom they have seen, cannot love God whom they have not seen. 21The commandment we have from him is this: those who love God must love their brothers and sisters also.

[sermon begins]

♪♫ “There is a longing in our hearts, O Lord, for you to reveal yourself to us.

There is a longing in our hearts for love, we only find in you, O God.”[1] ♫♪

We are singing this song in Lent in place of the usual Kyrie, a prayer for God’s mercy. We sing and claim that God is love. We hear that ‘God is love’ in scripture like the 1 John reading today. The Psalmist’s lips praise God’s “steadfast love [as] better that life.” God is love. Do we believe it? Is God really love? We say to each other in word and deed, “It can’t just be about love.”

We doubt that God is love. We perform mental gymnastics to explain some of the more troubling parts of the Bible – contorting God’s love into strange shapes that none of us would recognize as love. It’s a little unclear as to how we benefit from these mind games. In these theologies, God gets set up as unpredictable, angry, and insecure, one who could lash out in condemnation at any moment. “You better watch out” doesn’t sound like love to me. It sounds more like Stockholm syndrome when victims develop feelings of affection and trust for their kidnapper.

In a sermon a couple of weeks ago, I said that “the death of Jesus was the logical end of human anger, not God’s.” This means that the cross holds up a mirror to the violence in us, not in God. More than one of you had questions about that, bringing up the Old Testament and wondering about God’s anger and God’s love and what you’ve been taught about it. Stories like the one in our Gospel reading from Luke today are a good way to talk it through. Jesus had been teaching the crowds and the disciples for quite some time before the question about the Galileans was raised.

 

The Galileans, whose blood was defiled by Pilate, were quite possibly known by Jesus.[2] Galilee was not a big place. His statement wasn’t an abstraction about somewhere far away. These people were his neighbors who died violently and unexpectedly. In Luke’s Gospel, Pilate comes up throughout the story of Jesus (3:1), and at the end he will mix the blood of Jesus the Galilean with the Passover sacrifices. Pilate used the power of government to inflict suffering – NOT the power of God.

According to Jesus, neither the Galileans’ executions nor the eighteen folks crushed by the Tower of Siloam were punishment for sin. Explanations for suffering are always inadequate but it’s interesting how often suffering is attributed to divine retribution, punishment for sin through catastrophe. Jesus rejects the argument that suffering and catastrophe are divine punishment for sin. Jesus said, “No.” Yet still, we find it hard to believe that God is love, finding it much easier to believe that God is anger.

Let’s put a placeholder there for just a moment and talk about people as an example. It’s often easier for us to believe that people are mad at us or that we’re in trouble – yet one more example of the continuum between adolescents and adults. We get older but don’t really change all that much. We’re quicker to assume that people are mad at us, or just don’t like us, than we are to assume that people love and accept us. Is it possible that we’re also quicker to assume God is mad at us than that God loves us, projecting our assumptions onto God? It can’t just be about love…can it?

 

Take notice when Jesus tells a parable in response to a question. Parables are never direct answers. Parables don’t offer certainty. Parables invite creativity.  In this parable about the fig tree, we can play with who might be the man with the vineyard, the gardener, the tree, the fruit, the manure, or the calendar. Okay, who wants to be the manure? (Sorry, couldn’t resist.) Playing with a parable means there can be multiple lessons in any one story. So, if God is love, where is God in the story? The gardener? The fruit? Could Jesus be the tree and Pilate be the vineyard owner? Could God be the calendar in the reference to time? I have my own thoughts about the story but it’s helpful for us to be uncomfortable before jumping to quick answers. Parables disrupt our assumptions and invite our curiosity. Could disruption and curiosity be love? It can’t just be about love…can it?

In addition to Pilate’s appearances throughout the gospel, Luke prioritizes fruit-bearing.[3] In chapter 3, John the Baptist calls everyone to bear fruits worthy of repentance (3:8). In chapter 6, Jesus preaches that good hearts produce good fruit (6:43-45). In chapter 8, he explains that honest and good hearts “bear fruit with patient endurance (8:15).”

Before telling the parable about fig trees and fruit bearing, Jesus invites his listeners to repent, in the plural. Meaning that repentance in this story is a group activity. How many of you like homework that are group projects? Me neither. Too much unpredictability when a grade is on the line. But here is Jesus, using the plural of repent and assigning a group project. Some Jesus followers took him at his word, named the group project of repentance and called it Lent. Lent can’t just be about love…can it?

 

Repentance means to change our minds, to change our thinking. Changing our thinking does not mean 100% agreement. But putting our minds together, repenting together, can lead to deep discernment of what it means that God is love and THAT repentance, discernment, and love can transform the world. It can’t just be about love…can it?

The mystery of God is voluminous, unknowable it it’s totality. Thank God that Jesus was given as the shorter, Spark Notes version of God.[4] Jesus is the summary of God’s love. The Bible stories of Jesus’ earliest followers are part of the group project. What is God’s love? Jesus. Jesus bridges the gap created by our self-preservation through hoarding prosperity, power, and protection. Self-preservation over and against our neighbors, also known as sin, is the opposite of fruit-bearing and looks nothing like love.

 

1 John reminds us that Jesus reveals God’s love so that we might live. Jesus is called the “atoning sacrifice,” but he isn’t payment to an angry God or a hungry devil. That’s just divine child abuse. It’s not love. Oh no, Jesus is not payment. Jesus is a revelation to a world, to a people, to us, that needed to be loved and shown how to love. Taking violence into himself on the cross, transforming death through self-sacrifice, and revealing the depth of divine love, Jesus shows us that God’s judgement of the living and the dead clarifies where we fall short in loving God, self, and neighbor. Judgement is neither condemnation nor punishment. Judgement is a call to love, a restoration of love – restoration not retribution.

1 John tells us that there is nothing to fear because there is no punishment – “Perfect love casts out fear.” The word “perfect” in 1 John is perhaps better translated as “complete,” as in “God’s love is made complete in us.” Whatever God’s reasons are, God, who is love, “…first loved us,” and God’s love is made complete. “In this is love, not that we loved God but that God loved us…”

We love you God. Thank you for loving us first. Amen.

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[1] Listen to “There is a Longing in our Hearts” by Anne Quigley’s here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gP9BBz6fRkk

[2] Jeremy L. Williams, Assistant Professor of New Testament, Brite Divinity School at Texas Christian University, Forth Worth, TX. Commentary on Luke 13:1-9 for https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/third-sunday-in-lent-3/commentary-on-luke-131-9-5

[3] Williams, ibid. Dr. Williams highlights these passages in Luke in his commentary.

[4] Cliff Notes and Spark Notes are similar. They’re the easy, incomplete summary of a full book or area of study.