Author: Rebecca

Stripped-Down Easter; 2021; Pastor Rebecca Ellenson;

The women who brought their spices to the tomb at daybreak were the same women who stayed at the cross until the very end. We can imagine their grief and exhaustion. They were preoccupied with a very practical matter, would roll away the big heavy stone for them.  They went to anoint the body.  It was a practice done, actually, to aid in the decay process. The spices were to help with the smell, but also to accelerate the decomposition. Bodies would lie in the tomb for a year and then the family would go and collect the bones and put them in a box, called an ossuary, that would be stored in a different section of the tomb. So, when Joseph of Arimathea loaned his family’s tomb to the family of Jesus, it was only supposed to be temporary. But little did he know how temporary it would be.

The women encountered a situation beyond anything they could have expected. The stone wasn’t their problem.  Jesus, who had been crucified, was risen and was not there.  They fled, in terror, and amazement. 

It is strangely fitting that we have this stripped-down Easter gospel in this stripped-down year.  Mark didn’t add any extras to his account like Matthew, Luke or John did.  No, there are no post-resurrection appearances of Jesus in this ending of the gospel. The silence of the women reverberates like an unresolved chord, jangling like an unanswered question? 

The opening of Mark’s gospel is likewise stripped-down. There is no a birth narrative or even a genealogy. Instead, Mark immediately plunges midstream into Jesus’ life with his baptism by John.  Throughout his bare 16 chapters, Mark presents disciples who blunder along, continually misunderstanding Jesus.  Mark’s sentences are short and tight. It is a no-frills masterpiece of writing.  The whole of the gospel can be seen as a sort of parable that asks an open-ended question:  will we flee in terror and amazement too?  Will we fail to grasp the mystery of Jesus like the women and the disciples did? 

This whole year has been stripped-down.  We have lived with the limits of the pandemic and Easter is no exception.  This service, like so much this year, is limited.  There is no resounding response of “He is risen Indeed!” in this sanctuary today to my “Christ is Risen!”  You can’t smell the strong scent of Easter lilies over the internet. There will be no large family gathering around feast-laden tables today.  There have been no easter egg hunts, no festival Easter brunch.  We have not been able to stand, jam-packed into the sanctuary, to raise the rafters with the strains of “Jesus Christ is Risen Today!” 

This strange year is giving us an opportunity —to focus our attention not on all the extras since they’re not available to us this year anyway, but to focus on the main subject, the concise gospel that Jesus is risen and goes ahead of us.  All the extras are just the background, not the essentials, after all.  Easter isn’t about eggs, or peeps or tulips, or lilies, or music or even ham dinners with family.  The focal point is Jesus, risen and leading us forward, transformed.

I’m a novice painter.  When we spend our winters in Mexico, I take weekly oil painting lessons. This year I’ve been learning to paint with watercolor by taking online courses and reading books on my own.  Last week I read a book about color theory and the big impact a background can make for the subject of a painting. The color of the background actually changes the way we see the main subject. The greater the contrast the more the main subject or focal point of a composition will show up. 

The mystery and power of the resurrection stands in stark contrast this year, against a background of 2.7 million people lost to covid worldwide.  Our central focus today on the empty tomb shows up with a different tone when placed against a backdrop of two more mass shootings, chaos at the Border, unemployment and food insecurity.  We turn our attention to the resurrection today and our view is changed by the context of pandemic-induced loneliness, anxiety and depression.  The bright light of Easter stands out against the dim and uncertain character of these times. 

The women came to the tomb at the crack of dawn after the resurrection had happened—in the dark of night, in secret, unseen.  They didn’t actually see him rise, they saw the empty tomb.  All the accounts of the resurrection agree that the most important event in history happened in total darkness.  Before the sun rose on that Sunday morning two thousand years ago, a great mystery took place in secret.  No sunlight illuminated the event.  No human being witnessed it.   And ever since, even now, no human narrative can contain it.  We can’t define it any more than the women could. It is a mystery known only to God.  The resurrection claims us and compels us even as it rests in holy darkness, shielded from our eyes. God was able to bring life out of death.  Out of the dark night, from the heart of loss and misery, God brought salvation.

It was incomprehensible to them.  Of course it was!  They needed the reassurance they got:  Do not be alarmed.  They came to prepare a body for decomposition, but there was no body. They were given a new task- to go and tell.  Yes, they fled in fear, but obviously they got over that and they did tell the others-or we wouldn’t know about it.  The mystery of resurrection had to soak in and resonate with them, as it does with us too.

Yes, we miss the traditions of Easter this year, the extras. But maybe it can be even easier to focus on the key point without the clutter of peeps and easter bonnets and baskets. When it’s all stripped down, we are left with trusting the story itself to do its work.

Resurrection doesn’t need lilies and rousing choruses of Alleluia sung by the faithful.  Easter doesn’t depend on the religious performance or the spiritual stamina of flailing human beings.  It doesn’t really matter if the women were frightened and silent at first.  The tomb is empty.  Death can not hold him, or us.  Jesus lives.  Period.  We are not in charge of Easter; God is.

We know from history that the fear those three women felt subsided, the found their nerve, and the went and told the others.  Together, following the risen Christ they chose hope. As they made the story their own it spread and grew.  Joy came.  Faith came.  Peace came.  Love came.  The glorious truth of a conquered grave and a risen Messiah made its way from their emboldened lips to every corner of the world.  The story didn’t depend on them.  But it changed them, and as they changed, the world around them changed, too.

Each year we come to the tomb and like the women, we grow in understanding as we follow Christ who goes ahead of us.  This year, against the background of death, with a future that feels uncertain, we need this word of life.  The good news of Resurrection is just what we need to hear right now.  So hold on to it, let it change you.  You don’t have to be able to take in all of its goodness right away; it is trustworthy, and it will wait for you.

But when you can, as you can, hear it again: “Do not be alarmed; you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised; he is not here. Look, there is the place they laid him. But go, tell that he is going ahead of you.  You will see him, just as he told you.”

Christ is risen, the grave is empty, love is eternal, and death’s defeat is sure.  Whether or not you can bear this great truth right now isn’t the important thing.  Christ has given this truth to you.  It is yours.  He is risen, Alleluia!

We know the stories by heart and we order our patterns by the sacred calendar.  It’s Palm Sunday and we should be gathering in a sanctuary adorned with palms.  The opening hymn should be All Glory Laud and Honor, with trumpet sounding.  Those of us who normally arrive early for worship at the Blue Church would see the annual palm procession of Mexican worshippers in their parade through the streets of El Centro.  Our worship would begin with the recitation of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem on a colt and would proceed through the reading of his Passion, from trial through betrayal all the way to the cross. 

There is an element of theater to corporate worship.  Attention is paid to lighting, music, staging and the like.  The energy builds and recedes on cue and our emotions are elicited.  We channel our thoughts and feelings through the script.  The orchestration of worship is intentional, meant to reinforce beliefs and strengthen faith as well as motivate the congregation to live after the example of Christ throughout the week.  Oh, how I miss that!  We are still safe at home though, for a second Holy Week, eagerly awaiting vaccines and the herd immunity that will allow us to gather again. 

So, this year, I invite you to spend some time reading the narrative for yourself.  As you read, let the drama of Holy Week live in you.  Hosanna!

Click on the link below to read the Passion Narrative from Mark’s gospel:

https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Mark+14-15&version=NRSV

Models of God; March 7, 2021; YLLC: Pastor Rebecca Ellenson

If you close your eyes, what images come to mind when I say, “The 10 Commandments?”  If you were a pastor, like me, you might see in your mind’s eye the line of confirmands, through the years of ministry, who sat in front of you, reciting their memory work from Luther’s Small Catechism on the commandments. “What does this mean? We are to fear love and trust in God above all things.” 

Depending on your age you might see the scene from the 1956 Cecil B. De Mille production of The Ten Commandments, the one on the mountain top, Moses with his white hair and a long beard, a flowing rusty orange and black striped robe. You may see the movie set of craggy mountains with the swirling orange pillar of fire burning the words into the tablets of stone as the deep stern voice of God speaks the words of the law.

Or, if you’re like my husband, you might think instead of the scene from the 1981 movie called, The History of the World, Part 1, where Mel Brooks emerges from the crevice in the rocks, a replica of the other movie set, dressed in a copy of the robe Charlton Heston wore, juggling in his arms three apparently heavy stone tablets, saying, “Lord, I shall give these laws unto thy people.”  As he makes his way forward, he declares to the people below in a loud voice “Hear me, O hear me. All take heed. The Lord Jehovah hath given unto you these fifteen…” and he trips on the hem of his robe, dropping one of the tablets, “Oi” he mutters, looking down at the broken stone at his feet.  Shifting the remaining two more comfortably he goes on, “these Ten, Ten Commandments for all to obey.” 

One of the most basic images of God rises out of our Old Testament lesson for today.  While ideas like those in Luther’s catechism or teachings in modern theological books can influence our thinking about God, our beliefs and convictions are mostly carried in images not ideas. Oh, we may recite creeds that convey concepts about God and about doctrines. But how we see the character of God comes mostly from the images we hold in our minds and hearts. The scriptures provide us with so many images or metaphors: God is a King, a rock, a judge, a shepherd, a father, occasionally a mother, a lover, a potter, a warrior, an eagle, a mother hen just to name a few.

Sallie McFague, wrote an excellent book called, Models of God in 1987.  In that book she defined a model of God as a sort of grouping of metaphors or images, a kind of constellation of pictures that has real staying power. She identified two primary models of God that have dominated Jewish and Christian traditions through the years and showed how the various biblical images gravitate toward one model or the other.  Both models have been present throughout history and both are alive in the church today.  They are so different from one another, however, that they practically create two separate religions even as they use the same language. 

The most widely held model of God is strongly linked to our Old Testament lesson for today. Dr. McFague calls it the Monarchical Model. In this view, people see God through the lens of Mt. Sinai–God as the law-giver, the King, the Judge. In this view, God loves creation but is powerful, far-off, all booming deep voice and swirling orange pillar of fire. Many of us grew up with that model. It is probably the most common view. God sits as judge on a throne and will hold all people to account for their actions. Oh, God loves God’s people, but people aren’t very good at keeping the law, so in the Old Testament there were accommodations available. Sacrifices and offerings could be made to satisfy the law. There were cleansings and rituals and practices to maintain the relationship with God. Then, in New Testament times God sent Jesus to be the once and for all sacrifice, to forgive our sins, to stand in our place, to take the judgment for the world. 

The Old Testament lessons during this Lenten season move us through several stories of God making Covenants with God’s people. God makes promises and invites a response from Noah, from Abraham, from Moses and the Israelites, and through the prophet Jeremiah promises a new covenant written not in stone but in the people’s hearts. Each of these stories follow the pattern for covenants or contracts in the ancient world. God’s part of these agreements follows the pattern for a king’s or an emperor’s part of a covenant. The people’s part of these agreement follows the pattern for a vassal or a lesser partner.  Let me explain. 

Let’s say the Pharoah in Egypt conquered a small tribe or nation.  He would make an agreement saying, I am the emperor, here’s my offer.  I will be your protector and you will offer me tribute. In these biblical covenant passages God is the king, and the people are the subjects.  God says, I will be your God, here’s what I will do for you: To Noah: I will put my bow in the sky and promise not to destroy you; or to Abraham: I will make you a great nation and give you a land and descendants; or to Moses and the Israelites in the wilderness I brought you out of bondage in Egypt, fed you and cared for you, and give you laws to guide you.  You will be my people.  Then God, the ruler, the king, the judge outlines the expectations in response. As I said, God loves God’s people, but there are expectations. 

When we are in relationship to God the lawgiver and judge what is our role?  We are the defendant, the subject. Our life is about getting it right and doing what is expected of us. That might mean holding the right belief or performing the right behavior or a mixture of both those things.  This model of God suggests that the life of faith is about measuring up, doing or believing what is expected of us, confessing and receiving forgiveness when we don’t.

This way of understanding God leads to an insider and outsider distinction. The people who ask you if you’ve accepted Jesus as your personal savior or if you’ve been saved are asking from this perspective.

This model carries the idea of punishment or reward- judgment day looms either after death or at a second coming. 

Rather than freeing us from our self-absorption to focus on loving others this model zeros in on our own salvation—on making sure we have been forgiven and done or believed or prayed the right way.

I think most of us can recognize this model of God as something we heard, seen or believed.  It’s a sort of lens through which we can see and understand the scriptures and our own lives.

But there is another model too. The other model images God’s character as the Divine Lover. This way of seeing is also deeply rooted in scripture. We find it in the prophets and in the poetry of the Bible.  The prophets often speak of God’s loving kindness, tender compassion, mercy.  Isaiah 43 for example portrays God speaking with gentle love saying, “You are precious in my eyes and honored and I love you. Do not be afraid.”  The Song of Solomon depicts God as the Lover and God’s people as the Beloved.

And we see this model in the figure of Jesus Christ.  John 3: 16 says what?  God so loved the world!  Jesus is the embodiment of divine love. 

As the Father has loved me, so I love you, love one another. 

I call you friends.

The law and the prophets are summed up in this, Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, strength and mind, and love your neighbor as yourself. 

There was a man who had two sons, that father ran with joy to welcome the prodigal home. 

Beloved, let us love one another, for love is of God and everyone who loves is born of God and knows God.  Those who love not, know not God for GOD IS LOVE.  Beloved, let us love one another! 

Roberta Bondi, a theologian at Emory University says that “God is besotted with us!”  Isn’t that marvelous?  What would it mean for you to really know that?  God is head over heels in love with you!  God yearns for you, wants to shower you with cherishing love. 

It’s quite a different model from the Monarchical view isn’t it?  God as judge, king, and law-giver puts us on guard, outlines the rewards and punishments.  God the Divine Lover isn’t the one we are obligated to, the one whose expectations we must meet with good deeds, repentance and belief.  God the lover is passionate about us, each of us, and calls us to love extravagantly after the model of Christ.

As I said, both models of God are firmly grounded in Scripture. The difference comes in the perspective we bring to the texts.  For example, we can look at the Ten Commandments from either perspective. It’s easy to see which lens Cecil B DeMille used in that classic movie that shaped so many Americans through it’s annual broadcast on TV on the Saturday before Easter. God the Law-Giver is firmly etched into our brains thanks in part to Hollywood.  But, if we turn to the pages of Scripture instead of the silver screen we can see the other model of God speaking to us. 

Which model do you suppose the psalmist had when our psalm for today, Psalm 19, was written?  The law of the Lord is perfect reviving the heart. The decrees of the Lord are sure, making wise the simple. The precepts of the Lord are right, rejoicing the heart. More to be desired are they than gold, even much fine Gold, sweeter also than honey and the honeycomb. 

We can choose to see God as the stern Father, the Disciplinarian who brings the whole nation of Israel out into the wilderness for a time out, to teach them a lesson. We can envision the wag of the divine finger and deep booming voice of disappointment and the threat of punishment.  We can believe these ten words were given because the people of God proved unworthy, fell short of the ideal of who they could be, who they were intended to be. The law of the Lord can be read as restriction. Take your medicine, you won’t like it, but it’ll be good for you in the long run.

Or is there something else going on here? What if we come from the Divine Lover model? We can see the law as more to be desired than much fine gold and sweeter than honey and the honeycomb.  The context of the giving of the law is God’s liberation of a nation of slaves, God’s deliverance and provision.  The Jewish people see the law as a gift, not as limitations but as definitions. We can looked at this moment in the history of the people of God not as punishment for less than stellar behavior, but as a gift because of a greater than imagined love.

The ten words are not so much commandments that we ought to follow reluctantly or else, as they are descriptions of the kind of people we can choose to be. We can define ourselves by them as Jesus did, as the people who love God and who love neighbor. One Hebrew language teacher said we should retranslate them not as “Thou shall” or “Thou shall not” but as description, “You are the people who have one God” and “You are not the people who kill and steal and bear false witness.” That is just who we are and who we are not. God doesn’t say, “Jump through these hoops and I will love you.” Instead, God says, “My love for you will shape you into these kinds of people, this kind of community.”

I choose to operate from the Divine Lover model of God, following the Christ who summed up the law this way, Love the Lord your God with all your heart soul strength and mind and your neighbor as yourself.  That frees us from fear and empowers us to live for others, to let love be our guide. As we embrace our identity as the ones God is besotted with we start to view each and every part of God’s creation as cherished.  Our call is to love this earth, to love other people, and to love God extravagantly, freely, knowing that God is love, that in loving we are born of God and know God, for God is love.  Beloved, let us love one another.  Amen.

Oh, Taste and See That the Lord is Good!

This morning we awoke to 5 inches of new fluffy snow with more falling, blanketing our world in quiet clean. The wind is calm and the temperature a comfortable 29 degrees. So, we made plans to go downhill skiing tomorrow before the predicted warm-up arrives on Tuesday.

Steve and I each started skiing at the age of 4. The first time we skied together was a delight, neither of us had to wait for the other. Both of us volunteered as instructors and we traveled to the mountains as often as we could. Not being able to ski has been one of the few downsides of spending our winters in Mazatlan. There is such beauty in fresh powdery snow. The feeling of swooshing down the slopes rivals any other experience for its freedom. Just anticipating that sensation makes me smile.  Floating in the ocean, the waves rocking and suspending my body so that I am part of the vast movement is strangely a similar feeling. There is a oneness with the world, a flow that reveals my smallness in the scope of creation. The rhythmic waves and the softer sound of the sand’s movement when my ears are underwater express both the power and the gentleness of the sea.

When I was in high school my pastor at the time introduced me to a practice of biblical reflection that involved reading a text a few times and then re-writing it for myself as a prayer. He suggested starting with the psalms. It is a practice I have used for 40 years and has helped me claim the scripture for myself. Recently I discovered a wonderful book, Psalms for Praying, by Nan C. Merrill that seems to have originated in just that practice. The book is not a translation or even a paraphrase of the psalms, but a personal and evocative reworking of them for contemplation. I share with you her version of Psalm 34: 4-8.

When I searched for Love, the Beloved answered within my heart, and all my fears flew away.

Look to the Beloved, and your emptiness will be filled, your face will radiate Love.

For when you cry, the Beloved hears and comes to you, your troubles disappear.

The Beloved sends angels to those who call on Love to awaken them from their fears.

O taste and see! The Beloved is within you! Happy are all who dwell in the Beloved’s heart.

Psalms For Praying: An Invitation to Wholeness, Nan C. Merrill. (c) 1996 by Nan C. Merrill

May you open your senses to the Creator who blesses us with such majesty and wonder. 

2.21.2021; Pastor Rebecca Ellenson; Genesis 9; Yellow Lake Lutheran Church, Danbury WI

“Never again!  I will never again use my hands to strike my child,” he declared, as he came down the stairs, after administering a spanking to his 3-year-old son.  “Never again! All I ever learned from corporal punishment was to fear my father and to do whatever I could not to get caught.  We will find another way to raise our child.  I will not be that kind of a dad.  Never again!”  It was a sort of covenant he made and kept, a promise that was unconditional.  No matter what his son would do, that father vowed to use his hands for love, to build up and to teach not to hurt or tear down. 

Whenever I read or hear the story of the end of the flood, I remember that day, now 31 years ago when my son’s father changed, when he proclaimed, “never again!”  In today’s lesson about the end of the flood we hear God’s declaration of those same words, three times.   Never again shall all flesh be cut off by the waters of a flood and never again shall there be a flood to destroy the earth.  Never again.

Even the non-religious know something about the story of the flood, the animals coming two by two, the building of the divinely commissioned ark.  The story comes from the first section of Genesis, the pre-historical part where we find the cosmic stories of creation, the garden, the tower of babel, the great flood, and the mingling with the giants in the earth.  These fantastic stories speak to the nature of reality.  Nearly every culture has them, stories of origin and identity.  Instead of being literal history, they provide archetypes; they describe a world view.

Many countries have their flood stories. For example, the Babylonian flood story that circulated in the ancient world at about the same time had many of the same elements.  But that story explained why life is filled with tragic loss and depicts gods whose actions are whimsical and capricious, whose disregard for human beings demonstrates a great expanse between gods and their creation. 

The story of the great flood may start the same, with destruction, but it ends in a completely different way.  Several of the stories in this first part of Genesis work this way.  They mimic the surrounding cultures’ patterns by using the same structures but then put a totally new twist on the portrayal of God and the purpose of life. 

In the story of Noah’s Ark, the unconditional and unending promise of God is displayed for all the world to see by the sign of the rainbow.  Even though the problem of sin survived the flood, God’s response would never again be total destruction. God’s weapon, the bow, is put aside forever.  Never again!  Instead, like a loving father, God’s response to sin will be forgiveness and restoration.

I know a thing or two about floods.  I grew up in Moorhead, MN, on the banks of the Red River.  Perhaps you know that the Red River flows north past Winnipeg where the snow melts later.  The forces of nature work against the drainage of that fertile valley.  So, every year the whole community copes with the rising waters.  My family’s home was just two blocks from the river.  I remember a wet basement in the spring. I remember getting excused from high school to help fill sandbags.  There were road and bridge closures. The damp dirty smell of melting snow and ice led to the even wetter, dirtier smell of rotten sheetrock and saturated insulation left in piles on the boulevards.  In fact, one of my first real jobs was working for the parks and recreation board, on a post-flood clean-up crew.  Yuck. 

Floods are destructive and devastating. Their filthy aftermath lasts a long time. I’ve always thought it strange that Noah’s Ark is a popular theme in Sunday School and children’s books.  It’s not a children’s story, after all.  No, the destruction of all life, except for what fit on the ark is a theme for mature audiences.  Gustave Dore captured the chilling horror of the flood in his 19^th century engravings called The Deluge or The Great Flood.  A lone rock, the tip of a high mountain is the only land that rises above the heaving waves, with frantic and fearful bodies clinging and climbing over each other to grasp a final moment of solid earth. 

I think the story is motivated not by anger but out of exasperation that “every inclination of humankind’s heart was evil, continually. The story relates the 40 days of rain, the 40 days of flooding, the 150 days of continuing flooding and then the months and months of waiting for the destruction to drain away.  After the water was gone, the debris and the stinking damp soils the whole world and God says Never Again!  I will not be that God.  I will relate to my creation with only love and restoration! 

God unconditional covenant with the whole earth is marked by the rainbow, a reminder, not just to humanity and creation, but to God’s own self—that love is the way, healing and rebuilding are the divine intention. 

The repeating pattern spirals through the scriptures, and through our lives too. 

We see it in the garden stories.  God creates a good thing, humanity messes it up, breaking the rules, lying and hiding.  Then God creates a solution and restores the relationship broken by sin.  And life goes on.  I think of it as a sort of spiral, like a slinky turned on its side.  Life is good at the top, human action starts a sinking spin.  Then at the bottom God reaches out—God hears the cries, sees the suffering and acts with gracious concern and life goes on. 

It happened with Cain and Abel, it happened in Noah’s day, it happened in Babel.  The pattern continued with Sarah and Abraham and their descendants.  Over and over again, God steps in to fix the muddle created by God’s people.  When Abraham passes Sarah off as his sister, when Hagar is cast out into the desert, when Isaac is almost slaughtered, when Jacob cheats Esau, when Laban cheats Jacob, when Joseph is sold into slavery… Each time God restores the situation. 

Right there is the gospel.  The story of the flood and God’s promise of Never Again, symbolized by the rainbow, sets the pattern.  Destruction and devastation threaten each and every generation, not just in biblical times, and not from God’s own command.  Humanity is fully capable of bringing about its own wreckage.  The good news is that God’s continuing commitment is found in those repeated words:  Never Again.  God’s perpetual gaze toward the rainbow restores our spiral of ruin, time and again.

You can see it if you look.  Consider our world at the moment.  Oh, how God’s heart must still break that the inclination of our hearts is still evil, perpetually.  Social and economic injustice and racial disparity continue.  Displaced persons and refugees are at global all-time highs. Hunger ravages the lives of over 2 million children starving from famines in 7 countries. 111 people have suffered with covid leaving 2.5 million dead.  Unchecked ecological damage is catching up to us with weather extremes.  Civil unrest and the rise of nationalism threaten our social stability.  I don’t need to go on.

The causes for divine despair continue.  Sin cannot be wished away or washed away or even drowned.  It just comes back.  Shortly after the water receded what did Noah do?  He planted a vineyard and then got wasted, passed out drunk, naked and exposed.  He wound up cursing his son Ham into slavery for leaving him uncovered.  Then that story was used to justify human slavery through the generations. 

What did God survey after the flood?  Not a newly washed world, pristine and ready for a new beginning, as anyone who has lived through a flood can attest.  No, it would have been a flood-ravaged world, with stinking piles of soggy, sodden debris and the aftermath of wreckage.  As I said, it is an adult themed story.

The good news comes in the change that happened in God’s heart, the commitment to grace and forgiveness, the promise of Never Again!  People still cheat and steal and kill and make wrong decisions and fail.  The spiral continues, and thanks be to God, the rainbow still proclaims God’s promise. 

God keeps forgiving, showing mercy, offering second chances, pointing humanity in the right direction, renewing, restoring, loving.  God’s grace made its first big debut after the flood in an unconditional covenant with all people and all creation.  That spiral of love continues through the cross to the resurrection. It is repeated in the promises of baptism where we are named for the one who keeps making all things new.

Let us pray.  Holy God of the rainbow, God of Easter morning, God of constant grace, you claim us in the waters of baptism.  May we remember with every raindrop, every flake of snow, every prism of light, every sip of water, every splash that you can transform you creation with love and forgiveness.  Open us to your truth, that only love redeems.  Amen.

1 John 4: 7-16

⁷ Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God; everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. ⁸ Whoever does not love does not know God, for God is love. ⁹ God’s love was revealed among us in this way: God sent his only Son into the world so that we might live through him. ¹⁰ In 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. ¹¹ Beloved, since God loved us so much, we also ought to love one another. ¹² No one has ever seen God; if we love one another, God lives in us, and his love is perfected in us.

¹³ By this we know that we abide in him and he in us, because he has given us of his Spirit. ¹⁴ And we have seen and do testify that the Father has sent his Son as the Savior of the world. ¹⁵ God abides in those who confess that Jesus is the Son of God, and they abide in God. ¹⁶ So 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.

Thank you, Michaela for reading today. God’s love lived in your Grandma, and her love lives in you, just as it lives in all her grandchildren.

The words you read tell us that “God is love, and those who live in love, live in God and God lives in them.” Truer words were never spoken.

Wendy loved so much. Each one of us gathered here today knew Wendy’s love. It has been heartwarming to read the outpourings of love that have been scrolling endlessly on Facebook for the last 10 days recounting memories of this classy lady. Her gentle and strong spirit reached so many people. Who knows how far and wide this service is being streamed right now? Certainly, Wendy’s love is being felt and remembered in Mazatlan right now. And we can be sure that it is God’s love and your love, and our love that filled Wendy’s life with purpose and joy.

So, we gather today to remember Wendy. Thank you, Wally, for sharing your words today. What we are doing today is an important thing. Telling stories, looking at photos, praying together- this is a holy thing we do. It will be important to keep on with this process, even if that means finding new ways to do that because of the pandemic.

On the very evening that Wendy died, I was watching a show on Netflix when one of the characters recited a poem that caught my attention. I stopped the video and replayed it several times so that I could write down the words of the poem so that I could share it with you all today. It is called ‘Tis a Fearful Thing’ and it was written about a thousand years ago by a Jewish man in Spain named Judah Halevi. He was a philosopher and a physician.

‘Tis a fearful thing
to love what death can touch.
A fearful thing
to love, to hope, to dream, to be—
to be,
And oh, to lose.
A thing for fools, this,
And a holy thing
A holy thing
to love.
For your life has lived in me,
your laugh once lifted me,
your word was gift to me.
To remember this brings painful joy.
‘Tis a human thing, love,
a holy thing, to love
what death has touched.

It is a fearful, holy, important thing we do, to remember the painful joy of loving Wendy, painful only because death has come. Obviously today is just the beginning of naming the feelings, or recounting the memories, of crying and laughing and holding each other through the process of grief. Those feelings will shift and change as time moves on. What we do today is a start.

At times like this we turn to poetry, whether through the words of scripture or the lyrics of songs. I suppose we do that because it is hard to capture, in normal language, the hopes and dreams and love that feed our lives.

Mary Oliver captured the mystery of what we’re doing now when she wrote:

To live in this world

You must be able
To do three things:
To love what is mortal;

To hold it
against your own bones knowing
Your own life depends on it;

And, when the time comes to
Let it go,

To let it go.

Oh, how true those words are! Wendy loved deeply. Anyone who ever saw Rich and Wendy together, whether that was on a dance floor, or walking on the Malecon, or even in a professionally filmed advertisement for a condo, could see the deep love they shared. Anyone who ever heard Wendy talk about her children and grandchildren knew how deeply she loved you. Even those of us who simply counted Wendy as a cherished friend felt her loving care, her welcoming hospitality, her generous spirit.

A few weeks ago, when Wendy transitioned to hospice care and Rich asked if I would officiate at her memorial service when the time came, I knew right away that my words would be focused on love.

The words from the Song of Solomon, chapter 8: verses 6-7 came to mind. I know it may be unusual to choose a passage from the love poetry of scripture for a memorial service, but in this case I think it is just perfect. As you listen to these words consider the power of the love that filled and flowed from Wendy’s life.

Set me as a seal upon your heart,
As a seal upon your arm;
For love is strong as death,
Passion fierce as the grave.
Its flashes are flashes of fire,
A raging flame.
Many waters cannot quench love,
Neither can floods drown it.
If one offered for love
All the wealth of one’s house,
It would be utterly scorned.

Those words ring with an honest truth. Today, we stand in the shadow of death. There can be no doubt that death is fierce and strong. Sorrow can threaten to quench our spirits. There have been and will be days when tears flood our hearts.

But, love is equally strong. Its flashes are of a raging flame that not even death can quench or drown. When it comes right down to it—none of us who have known real love would ever trade even all the wealth in the world for love.

A few days before Wendy died, I was able to administer Holy Communion to Rich and Wendy, via the telephone. I read to them the poetic imagery from the 21st chapter of Revelation about the place that Jesus went to prepare for her and for us.

“God will be with them; God will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning nor crying nor pain any more, for the former things have passed away.”

It’s impossible for any of us to describe the next place literally. So we turn to images and poetry to express our faith and hope. We say she’s in the arms of the angels. Or she’s somewhere over the rainbow, where troubles melt like lemon drops. We turn to the eternal truths: that in God’s eternal care there will not be the suffering that she endured here. There will not be the mourning you feel now after her death. There will not be any tears or pain or death.

It is a holy thing to love. To live in this world, we must love what is mortal, knowing our life depends on that love. And when the time comes to let go, even that is love, because we trust that love is strong as death and nothing can quench love.

St. Paul put it this way. “I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Romans 8: 38-39)

Wendy’s pain is gone, and she is now held in the love of God, who is love. And Wendy’s love will continue to abide in each of us. And that is a holy thing. Thanks be to God. Amen.

(Wendy’s obituary and the livestream broadcast of her service can be accessed by clicking the link below.)

Wendy Gregerson 02/03/2021

A few years ago I came across the writings of a Franciscan monk named Richard Rohr. I was so interested in his mystical reflections that I signed up for a regular email from the Center for Action and Contemplation. Of course, I don’t agree with everything he writes, but I often find myself fascinated with his approach to theology. You can check it out for yourself at: cac.org

Here’s what he had to say this week:

You shall not take the name of God in vain. (Exodus 20:7)

Many Christians think the second commandment is a prohibition against swearing. But I believe the real meaning of speaking the name of God “in vain” is to speak God’s name casually or trivially, with a false presumption of understanding the Mystery—as if we knew what we were talking about!

Many Jewish people concluded that the name of God should not be spoken at all. The Sacred Tetragrammaton, YHWH, was not even to be pronounced with the lips! In fact, vocalizing the four consonants does not involve closing the mouth. A rabbi taught me that God’s name was not pronounceable but only breathable: YH on the captured in-breath, and WH on the offered out-breath!

We come from a very ancient, human-based, natural, biological, universally experienced understanding of God. God’s eternal mystery cannot be captured or controlled, but only received and shared as freely as the breath itself—the thing we have done since the moment we were born and will one day cease to do in this body. God is as available and accessible as our breath itself. Jesus breathes the Spirit into us as the very air of life (see John 20:22)! Our job is simply to both receive and give this life-breath. We cannot only inhale, and we cannot only exhale. We must breathe in and out, accept and let go.

Take several minutes to pause and breathe mindfully, surrendering to the mystery of wordless air, the sustainer of life. Part your lips; relax your jaw and tongue. Hear the air flow in and out of your body:
Inhale: YH
Exhale: WH

Let your breathing in and out, for the rest of your life, be your prayer to—and from—such a living and utterly shared God. You will not need to prove it to anybody else, nor can you. Just keep breathing with full consciousness and without resistance, and you will know what you need to know.

Healing beyond Cure; Mark 1: 21-28; 1/31/2021; Pastor Rebecca Ellenson; YLLC

The whole world is concerned about health right now.  All our lives have changed.  Millions of people are grieving or coping with illness. We’re washing our hands more, we’re wearing masks and protecting our own health and the health of others by keeping our social distance. We’re looking with hope to the vaccines and treatment advances even as we are concerned about mutations in the virus.  Our prayers are for healing and protection. 

Jesus was a great healer.  The first chapters of Mark’s gospel are filled with his healings.  In today’s gospel we read about the healing of a man with an unclean spirit.  Next week we will read about the healing of Simon’s mother-in-law and many who were sick with various diseases and many who were possessed with demons.  Then we’ll hear about the cleansing of a leper and the following week Jesus heals a paralytic.  People are relieved of their physical symptoms and they are restored to a positive place in society.  One thing we learn in these stories is that Jesus is interested in more than a purely physical cure.  He also offers a healing beyond cure.  And he offers it to us too. 

Jesus treats, cures, heals them all, no matter what is wrong with them it seems.  At one point he goes out to a deserted place to pray.  When the others find him and tell him “Everyone is searching for you,” he says, “Let’s go on to other places so I may proclaim the message there too.”  He goes throughout Galilee and proclaims, and casts out demons and keeps on healing people. 

In our contemporary world we often view disease as a malfunction of the organism that can be remedied, assuming cause and cure are known, by proper biomedical treatment.  Recently there have been all sorts of adaptations to that strict biomedical view, including energy fields, dietary concerns, awareness of toxins, supplements of all kinds, essential oils, visualization, you name it.  But even in many of these approaches the focus is on restoring a sick person’s ability to function, to do.  In the ancient Mediterranean world, one’s state of being and relationships were more important than one’s ability to act or function.  The healers in that ancient world focused more on restoring a person to a valued state of being than solely on the ability to function.  Healing included social and relational aspects, not just physical well-being. 

Healing is not always one moment’s miraculous transformation.  In Scripture as in our lives, healing is more commonly a process.  Healing in the scriptures is linked to a deepening of one’s relationship with God.  What we want for ourselves and our loved ones is a quick cure.  I want medicine that will make it go away.  We have been blessed with scientists and medical care givers that often can provide that quick fix for us.  But such cures can come without inner transformation, without an awareness of God’s action, without gratitude or joy, and without a restoration to right relationships.  The healing Jesus demonstrated, comes with an opening to God, the releasing of our fears into God’s hands, the trusting of God’s love and compassion which arises in the midst of our paralyzing fears. 

Lately I’ve been thinking about my former mother-in-law, who is a breast cancer survivor.  She, like most nurses, is a very practical, no nonsense woman.  She worked as a Registered Nurse most of her adult life.  Over 40 years ago now she was diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis and was physically debilitated by it.  They lived in a small town and her rapid physical decline was noted by everyone she knew.  She had been active and able-bodied up until then.  She was working as a nurse then and had four children ranging in age from 2 to 12.  Throughout the onset of the arthritis, she was deeply involved in a home bible study group and felt surrounded by the prayers of her friends.  Although she got health advice from every direction, she wasn’t receiving any medical treatment other than pain relief.  Then something happened.  She experienced a kind of physical healing.  It wasn’t sudden.  Over the next few months the pain and swelling simply went away and has never returned.  She was able to resume her responsibilities.  It was a very transformational experience for her that strengthened her faith and her sense of connection to the Christian community she was a part of.

She called me one day because she was going to lead a bible study and discussion about healing at a camp for incarcerated young women where she volunteered.  She wanted permission to tell some of my personal story and the healing that I have known in my life.  Now, I’ve never experienced anything that I would call a miraculous physical healing.  Healing when I’ve been sick has come through the normal options like medicine or surgery.  The greatest healing I’ve personally known was of an emotional and spiritual nature.  I was the victim of a violent crime over 40 years ago and for me recovery was hard won.  Physical healing is probably the first thing we think of when we read the healing stories in Mark’s gospel.  But that’s only one narrow definition of the healing Jesus makes possible.

Sometimes there can be healing, even when physical conditions worsen and when there is no cure.  I saw a billboard once that read, “Care beyond Cure.”  It was the slogan for the Red River Hospice program.  Care beyond cure.  That is the nature of hospice care, after all.  It is medical and spiritual care given to a patient whom the doctors are no longer hoping to cure.  Often it is for cancer patients, when they are no longer fighting the disease with chemotherapy or radiation.  These patients often return home, and hospice provides care in the home during the time before the disease kills the body.  Hospice programs acknowledge that there can be appropriate and important care that does not result in cure.  Even death, for those of us with resurrection faith, can deliver the ultimate healing, a release into the unlimited grace of God’s all-encompassing love.  I don’t mean to minimize the loss and grief for those left to mourn after death. It can be so harrowing.  But, I’ve also seen great healing happen around deathbeds.  Pretenses are stripped away and relationships can be healed. There can be an opening to the care of God that extends beyond death. 

I used to be a volunteer at the homeless shelter and I remember a wonderful conversation with another volunteer there about healing.  Her name was Joanne and she was trained as a public health nurse and a parish nurse.  She taught nursing in several locations and worked in Bangladesh for 5 years through the Episcopal church. At the time our conversation took place she was volunteering two days a week at the CHUM drop in center in Duluth .  One day, one of the clients came in and asked her if she was religious.  Joanne was very gentle.  She said, “I claim to be a Christian.”  “Yeah, uh, huh” the man said, “so would you wash someone’s feet?”  “Yes, I would.” she responded.  “No, I mean for real, would you like wash someone’s feet?” he persisted.  She said, “I have been a nurse for almost 50 years and over that time I have bathed bodies from head to toe, from birth to death, and even after death.  I consider it a great honor to do that.”  “Oh, ok.” he muttered and walked off.  Joanne told me that she has always considered her knowledge of the human body to be a sacred knowledge.  To know how the body works is holy and to be entrusted with the care of another is a holy thing. 

Later that afternoon when the medical students from UMD arrived for their weekly 2-hour shift they conducted a foot clinic.  They made tubs of warm water available for the people to soak their feet.  The students and Joanne were there to help them wash and dry their feet and check for sores.  There were clippers available and attention was given to problem areas.  Then the feet were rubbed with a moisturizer and the people were given fresh new socks.  Did healing happen?  I’m certain of it.  Was anyone cured?  Probably not.  Were they served, ministered to? Most definitely. 

We are all agents of healing, all of us who follow Christ.  We are all connected across the whole universe by our hope, our suffering, and our healing.  We give birth with pain followed by joy.  We die through pain followed by release.  We breathe each other’s air, drink the same molecules of water the ancients drank.  We all comfort using our arms and we weep the same streaming salty tears.  We all long to be whole, to make whole, to be embraced by others and by God. 

Let us pray.  Dear Christ, we come to you today, each of us, in need of your healing.  Be present with us, touch us, heal us, through the prayers of your people and in their touch.  Set us on a journey today that brings us closer to you, and deeper into that healing which alone means wholeness and eternal life. Amen.

Selected Verses from Psalm 62

For God alone I wait in silence; from God comes my salvation.God alone is my rock and my salvation, my stronghold so that I shall never be shaken. …For God alone I wait in silence; truly, my hope is in God.God alone is my rock and my salvation, my stronghold so that I shall never be shaken.In God is my deliverance and my honor; God is my strong rock and my refuge. …God has spoken once, twice have I heard it, that power belongs to God. …

This week I received several calls asking for prayer support. A friend’s grandchild was thrown through the windshield in a severe car accident. Hospice care supports another family as they watch and wait. A young boy struggles to cope with the death of his grandfather. A loving husband cannot visit his hospitalized wife due to pandemic restrictions. And so, after waiting alone in silence, resting in the stronghold and refuge that is God, I called the prayer chains I know of to wrap them all in the hope, deliverance, and power of God.

Find a quiet place and time today and wait in silence. Set a short timer of 3-5 minutes. Then read the words above from Psalm 62, first silently, then aloud. Read them again, first silently, then aloud. Close your eyes and breathe. Rest and listen to hear God’s word for you. God is still speaking. When we open ourselves to listen we find a stronghold so that we shall never be shaken.Don’t just read this post! Actually do this. Select a phrase from this psalm and let it be a refrain for you this week. Interrupt your days with silent waiting for God our refuge and stronghold.Blessings to you all! You are in my prayers and we are knit together in God’s power. Amen.

Open Letter to Vice President Pence, Members of Congress, and the Cabinet Calling for the Removal of President Trump from Office

If you click on the link above you will find the letter signed by the leaders of 23 separate denominations in the USA in response to the recent events in Washington DC. I offer it here for your information.