speaking of being born again-- Lent 2A

    The Rake this month has an article about the Barna study in which self-professed "born again Christians" were found to have worldviews that  many of their fellow evangelicals deem insufficiently "biblical." So now James Dobson and friends are on a new campaign to bring these folks up to speed on what it really means to believe in Jesus.
    Isn't it ironic that Jesus' conversation with Nicodemus, which seems to be all about double meanings and highly metaphorical language for the mystery of God's love, is the origin of this litmus-test phrase for being a "real" Christian? Nicodemus doesn't get it with Jesus there in the room with him. Are we really surprised to find that contemporary Christians have vastly different takes on what the faith is all about?
    Maybe it's a cop out to avoid longer conversations, but when strangers ask me if I'm born again, I just say yes. My baptism is valid, thank you very much.

Lent 2A -- what is a gift anyway?

A couple weeks ago we heard David Rhoads of the Lutheran Seminary in Chicago "perform” the book of Galatians. It was enlivening to hear that familiar book with new ears, all at once, but what grabbed me most were his concluding remarks, in which he spoke about the power of the Gospel to free us. So often in the church we have defined the “problem” as guilt, a category that made sense, perhaps, to first-century Jews and our immigrant forebears. But increasingly our culture has lost a sense of guilt -- or pathologized it where it exists. Shame, on the other hand, is alive and well for people across the cultural and religious spectrum. And the Gospel, Paul makes clear, frees us from shame as well.

This came to mind reading the second lesson from Romans for this Sunday, where Paul in his later letter details how Abraham was reckoned as “righteous” through faith. This is a dense enough passage as it is – a daunting one to preach, especially since one has to exegete Genesis at the same time. But I'm considering it. In our Lutheran framework, the focus on being “righteous through faith” has so often turned faith into just another – if more vaguely defined – work. It wasn’t Abraham’s circumcision that saved him, the argument goes. It was that he believed God. For a modern person struggling with faith defined as believing the Creed, that’s not good news. It only leaves us feeling unable to spiritually measure up, not good enough – in other words, ashamed.

But what if this righteousness that God gives truly is something given? What if, as Paul writes, God “justifies the ungodly”? Not the believing, repentant ungodly, just the plain old, mixed-up, not even sure I want to believe ungodly?

If that is so, then we, like Abraham are living into a whole new reality, one that doesn’t fully exist yet, like the child and country still longed for. And living into that reality, created by God and held in God’s hands, is all the righteousness we need.

Transfiguration

Under_the_bridge I'm actually taking this Transfiguration Sunday off, in order to participate in the City of Lakes Loppet on Sunday. For me it's an annual glimpse of the kingdom, being able to SKI from the suburbs into Uptown! This year we might have a kid skiing with us instead of being hauled behind us. . .another milestone.

Those of you looking for a preaching image or two, I'll refer you back to my essay from last year  at Journey with Jesus. Matthew's account is a little different, yes, but the larger image of the lights going on still holds true.

At ECLC, we're going to have a surprise transfiguration of a different kind. You'll just have to show up to see what it is.

Epiphany 3A

The makers of the lectionary must have chuckled to themselves, knowing that their choices for this Sunday would usually fall around the time of many congregational annual meetings.

Here's Isaiah promising that the people who have walked in darkness have seen a great light (just in case we've forgotten all those warm feelings we had back at Christmas time).

Here's Paul, writing with astonishment, "What's this that I hear? Divisions among you!!"

And Matthew's gospel, reminding us again that the disciples didn't get a job description or an estimate of volunteer hours or even, apparently, a lot of "time to pray about it," when they were called to follow. We'd like to fill in the gaps of the story with some very modern tale of existential angst and dissatisfaction with fishing, but Matthew doesn't care about that at all.

Maybe the question we should ask ourselves at annual meetings is, "What do we have to leave behind in order to follow?"

Second Sunday after Epiphany - lectionary 2

“It is too light a thing that you should be my servant to raise up the tribes of Jacob and to restore the survivors of Israel; I will give you as a light to the nations, that my salvation may reach to the end of the earth.” Isaiah 49:6

China There’s a nice moment in Rob Gifford’s China Road where he recounts a moment “in the first flush of youth and the first flush of faith” when he read the biography of James Hudson Taylor, one of the first western missionaries in China to promote respect for the indigenous culture. Taylor encouraged his associates to adopt Chinese dress and elements of Chinese lifestyle as they preached the Gospel, started schools and hospitals. Gifford, inspired by Taylor’s faith as well as his progressive views, considered entering mission work himself, but his priest in his home church in England advised him, “that sort of canvas might prove a little small for you.”  Gifford’s journalism, in its compassion, insight and accessibility, is evidence, I think, that his priest was right.

How often do we church professionals paint our own work as the true “big canvas” of the Gospel, while dismissing the large ways the laity in their own vocations spread God’s light? How often do we work within our own “tribe” as if that is all there is to God’s work, while in fact our members are being lights to the nations; perhaps they are not preaching from their cubicles, but they are feeding the hungry, educating the young, healing the sick, cleaning the environment, defending the weak. OK, maybe they are also using precious creativity and resources to name a new low-fat snack or advertise the latest techno-gizmo. . .but even in the midst of that they are talking to people with whom most clergy can never dream of having a candid conversation.

God’s healing, God’s salvation, is promised to reach the ends of the earth. Maybe we who work within the tribe have the lightest of all loads; we just give the rest of God’s servants some really great colors to paint on that big canvas of God’s creation.

Epiphany 2A-- Matthew's take

"Let it be so now," Jesus says, "for it is fitting for us to fulfill all righteousness" (Matthew 3:15)

It comes as no surprise that Jesus in Matthew's Gospel wants to "fulfill all righteousness." Matthew, of all the gospels, is very interested in righteousness, that sense of a life fitting in with the will of God. I fear, however, that in interpreting the debate between John the Baptist and Jesus about who should be baptizing whom, we read it with the ears of American individualism. We can too easily hear it as an argument about Jesus' personal need for baptism, just as we so often assume that baptism is an individual act of repentance and commitment.

But Jesus clearly sees this as more than an individual act: "it is fitting for us to fulfill all righteousness." John's baptism of repentance is ultimately about the whole people of Israel needing a new start, a re-entry into the Jordan waters that marked the beginning of their life in the promised land. Jesus is affirming John's public ministry in this act, and so affirming that the kingdom of God is more than a dwelling somewhere deep in our individual souls. It is a new beginning for all, one in which Jesus as God-with-us stands at our side, dripping wet.

Epiphany 2A-- Baptism of our Lord

This Sunday's second lesson from Acts chapter 10 is a classic example of what drives me crazy about the lectionary. Here is a key moment from the book of Acts -- Peter's encounter with the Gentile Cornelius, and the subsequent baptism of the whole household -- and all the lectionary designates for the day is Peter's speech -- sermon really -- excerpted from the larger narrative. I can't think of any preacher's sermon that would hold up well over centuries, with only one paragraph and no context whatsoever. Peter's, I'm sorry to say, is no exception.

The rationale, I suppose, is that we get a mention of the relationship between John the Baptist's ministry and that of Jesus. But the really remarkable thing about baptism in Acts 10 comes in the narrative, in the fact that Peter, having never entered a Gentile's house before, finds himself baptizing Cornelius and all his household.

A key word for the book of Acts is several variations on the word un/hindered. Acts ends with the news that, even under house arrest, Paul is preaching the Gospel unhindered. In Acts 10, the same word appears in verse 47, but is translated withhold. "Can anyone withhold the water for baptizing these people who have received the Holy Spirit just as we have?" (10: 47) Later, when Peter has to justify his actions to elders in Jerusalem, he asks "who was I that I could hinder God?" (11:17)

Baptism, we learn in Acts, is a gift of the Holy Spirit. Our job is not to be gatekeepers, but simply to get out of the Spirit's way, and be witnesses to what God is doing.

Epiphany - The Real Gift of the Magi

After all my insistence this Advent about how little I care about the historicity of the virgin birth,  Jesus’ birthplace, and so on, it would be a little inconsistent of me to go through the usual round of debunking that goes on with the wise men: they came to a house, not a manger; there’s no evidence there were three; they were not kings but magi. Yes. So?

Who were they? The only thing that seems very clear is that Matthew wants us to know they were pagan. They were from “the East,” and most likely astrologers. Not Torah-observant, as far as anyone can tell. The Church has at least had the grace to remind us of this fact every Epiphany and point out that outsiders came to worship Jesus, to offer gifts, and in some sense, to reveal who Jesus was.

But their origin in the East has another layer of meaning that eluded me until I recently read Richard Swanson’s Provoking the Gospel of Matthew, in which he points out that visitors from the East were most likely coming from places that, for the Jews, meant empire, tyrranny, and exile. Visitors from Babylon and Assyria had been Very Bad News for Jesus’ people for many generations, and the memories evoked by Rachel’s weeping in chapter two would be memories of seeing God’s people marched off to exile in the East.

The fact that these pagans show up to worship is also a reminder that not all the exiles returned. Some faithful Jews remained in Babylon, and others no doubt slid eastward in their religious observances as well, blurring the lines between Jew and Pagan. Perhaps some of these never-returned exiles were ancestors to some of the Magi. In any case, Matthew’s readers would be reminded that God’s promises had seeped beyond the bounds of Palestine, and even beyond the bounds of official Torah observance, generations ago.

Who are the Magi coming to us today, clear that they are not one-of-us but ever so curious about Jesus, and so, so generous with their seeking and their seemingly impractical gifts? How do we receive them?

John 1

JohnAt my congregation we are wrapping up our series on the St. John's prints with, of course, John 1. I'm not the world's biggest fan of John, on the whole, but chapter one cannot be beat. The trouble is, it's very difficult to say anything ABOUT it, because talking about poetry is as hard as talking about music.

Likewise, there is much about the Incarnation that is best left to poets and musicians. As soon as we get into heavy discussions of historicity, we've lost much of the beauty of it. God's intention, as far as I'm concerned, far outweighs the mechanics of how Christ came into the world. (And while I don't want to reduce John 1 to a "point," that does seem to be one of them).

One interesting reading of John 1 (thanks, Mary Hinkle Shore) puts the phrase "he gave power to become the children of God" at the center of this chapter. God's gift, the telos of this incarnation, is to make us children of God.  It's an intriguing reading, one I want to follow for December 30, because we also have 3 baptisms in our congregation that day, and it seems to me that our theology of baptism too often suffers from the same un-poetic thinking that we apply to the Bible. Instead of hearing the grace, the gift of baptism, too often people jump to the logic of it: "But what about those who are not baptized? What about babies that die before they are?" and so on. We humans have a gift, it seems, for taking a thing of beauty and grace and wringing the life out of it.

May you receive this gift of beauty, of grace and truth, with mind and heart this Christmas. And sing like crazy. The artists got it right.

Happy Last Sunday of Advent

Happy 4th Sunday in Advent all!

In spite of my recent addiction to blogging almost daily, I expect that I will be spending the next couple days solidly in the real world.

So I take this moment now to wish you all a blessed Christmas Eve and Day (and if I don’t get to it, Boxing Day, St. John’s and Holy Innocents as well).

If you’re hankering for more, I think my Journey with Jesus essay for the first Sunday in Christmas will be posted on December 26. Be forewarned, it’s not a feel-good piece.

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