Author: Rebecca

What Goes around Comes Around; February 24, 2019; Pastor Rebecca Ellenson; ICCM

There’s a scientific law called Newton’s third law of motion.  It goes: “For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction”?  Or maybe you’ve heard another version of that idea—What goes around comes around. 

It’s true in science and it’s also true when it comes to human relationships, isn’t it?  Our choices have consequences, and sometimes those consequences outlive us.   We see that in the lives of the families written about in Genesis.  Today’s reading comes at the end of a four generation saga. We often focus on just an isolated story from Genesis.  If you haven’t ever read through the whole epic journey of Abraham’s family I encourage you to do so.  There is a lesson about God’s grace and the option of forgiveness that runs through chapters 12-50 of Genesis like a red thread through the fabric of this great book. The characters are true to life—not like superheroes of faith, but men and women riddled with self-doubt, trickery and scheming. The repercussions of their bad choices ripple out, again and again, over generations and finally it is grace and mercy that carries the day.

For those of us who think our families are dysfunctional, well, these families make yours and mine look rather normal, if not downright boring.   Just think about the wild ride they’ve all been on:

• Abram claimed that his wife Sarah was his sister because he could tell the king of Egypt was interested in her, and Abraham was scared he’d be killed.  Nice. 
• Sarah convinced Abraham to have a child with her slave, Hagar, then tried to kill both Hagar and the child when she got jealous. 
• Abraham almost sacrificed his son Isaac on an altar. 
• Isaac and his wife Rebekah raised two sons Esau and Jacob, each the favorite of one of their parents.  Their sibling rivalry was extreme, a matter of life and death.  After tricking his brother Esau out of his inheritance Jacob ran away to his Uncle Laban.
• Laban lied to him and tricked him out of marrying his true love, Rachel—on his wedding day, no less.  Jacob wound up with two wives and two concubines, 12 sons and a daughter.  He destroys his relationship with his uncle Laban and after a 20-year estrangement from his birth family, Jacob fled once again, this time back to his homeland, hoping his brother Esau wouldn’t kill them all.
• Esau, remarkably forgave his long lost brother’s deception and betrayal and Jacob was able to return home and raise his big family there. 
• Rachel, Jacob’s favorite, died while giving birth to Benjamin, leaving Jacob grieving and clinging to her memory through the favoritism to the two boys she bore.

As I said, what goes around comes around.  It’s a fascinating saga—of betrayal and deception and ultimately of forgiveness and the power of grace to transform and restore.

• Joseph, one of Rachel’s boys, the second to the youngest of the 12 sons of Jacob, had been assigned a sort of supervisory position in the family business, at the tender age of 17.  He was responsible for reporting back on the activities of his brothers—who were busy managing Jacob’s herds and flocks. 
• To make matters worse, Jacob had given Joseph a beautiful coat that reminded anyone who saw it, which son had the favor of their father . . . and which ones didn’t.  Day after day, Joseph would come down to the fields and strut up and down, his beautiful coat swinging easily around his ankles, his brothers work clothes drab in comparison.  Then he would hurry back to his father Jacob and report any indiscretions he observed, any questionable behavior he saw in his brothers. Joseph’s behavior, totally encouraged by his father Jacob, was bound to have a ripple effect.
• And, it did.  Boy, did it ever.  The straw that broke the camel’s back happened one day when Joseph traveled to where his brothers were working and proceeded to tell them about some dreams he had had, dreams about all the brothers out in the fields, binding sheaves of wheat, when suddenly all the brothers’ sheaves bowed down to Joseph’s.  And another dream, about the sun, the moon and 11 stars, all bowing down to Joseph. 

Joseph interpreted those dreams to mean that he was to be in charge.  The meaning of the dreams was obvious to Joseph’s brothers, too, and they were sick of it . . . sick of Jacob’s favoritism, sick of feeling second best, sick of Joseph’s arrogance . . . just sick of the whole situation.

And so the narrative ball keeps rolling; you know what happened.  The brothers plotted to kill Joseph out there in the field one day and throw his body into a pit.  But somebody’s conscience was pricked—Reuben and Judah convinced their brothers to sell Joseph to a passing caravan, to get him far, far away and out of their hair forever.

They staged the whole thing, killed an animal and smeared that beautiful coat with blood. Then they took it back to their father who assumed Joseph was dead.  Jacob’s grief nearly crippled him, he was so devastated by the loss.  Then, life continued, as it always does even in the face of tragedy and violence and pain. The brothers probably felt avenged for a lifetime of favoritism.  But every action has an equal and opposite reaction, and you’d better believe the brothers’ behavior had consequences.

This saga continues with Joseph’s adventures as a slave, then advisor to Pharoah, culminating finally in Joseph’s forgiveness.  God appears in all manner of ways in the stories of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, but here in the Joseph sa story, God is not mentioned.  All we have are the actions and reactions of human beings, trying desperately to live in community, in family, with each other, and not doing too well at all. 

It was unjust and unfair, no matter how you look at it. No one deserved the treatment they got, not Joseph’s brothers, not Joseph, not Jacob.  But, they made choices to address what they experienced as injustice with other acts of injustice or violence. Except for Esau who broke the cycle with his forgiveness, and finally Joseph does the same at the very end of the story.  Newton’s third law of motion operates throughout, as we know by now it always does.  When faced with injustice we have a choice about how to respond.  And remember, every action has an equal and opposite reaction.

 Simon Wiesenthal was a Jew who lived during World War II in an area of Europe that was conquered by Germany. During the war he was forced to live in a ghetto and then sent to a work camp where he faced the possibility of death every day. One day in the work camp, Wiesenthal was summoned by a nurse to hear the dying confessions of an SS Nazi soldier. The soldier asked for forgiveness for the things he had done to the Jewish people; he wanted forgiveness as he was dying because he was afraid that his soul would not be able to rest in eternity unless he was forgiven.

In his book The Sunflower Wiesenthal tells about trying over and over to leave the room because he was so afraid and because he hated Nazis. But he stayed and listened to the dying man out of pity and also because the soldier begged him not to leave. Wiesenthal recognized that the Nazi soldier was showing true repentance but he also knew that the soldier was ignorant, selfish, and a member of the group that had taken away the lives of his friends and family.

Overwhelmed with the heaviness of the decision, Wiesenthal eventually just left the room.  The next day he found out that the soldier had died and left all his things to Wiesenthal; Wiesenthal spent the rest of his life asking the question: “What would you have done?”

The book’s newest edition includes the contributions of many noted Jewish and Christian thinkers who comment on the dilemma Wiesenthal faced.  Most agree that Wiesenthal could not have forgiven that solider on behalf of an entire race of people, but many also note: there’s something powerful in stopping violence and hatred with forgiveness and love. 

Desmond Tutu, who presided over the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in South Africa after Apartheid writes of Wiesenthal’s dilemma: “It’s clear that if we look only toward a retributive justice, we might as well close up shop.  Forgiveness is not some nebulous thing.  It is practical politics.  Without forgiveness, there is no future.”

Often, things happen to us that we can’t control, the same things that happened then: infertility, political oppression, famine.  Or it may be that we set out, like Jacob, expecting to marry Rachel and end up married to Leah, or we are betrayed by our brothers.  But even when these things happen, we always—always—have a choice about how we will respond to the situations in which we find ourselves.

We can respond to the injustice we face with anger, hatred and violence.  Maybe some would say a response like that is even justified.  But remember: every action has an equal and opposite reaction, and violence and pain and injustice always . . . always . . . breed more violence and pain and injustice. 

What pain could have been avoided if Joseph’s brothers were able to face the unjust situation in which they found themselves and respond, not with violence, but with forgiveness? What if someone had said “I’m sorry?” “Forgive me.”

What pain could we avoid if we train our hearts with the discipline of answering injustice with forgiveness and love? Today – each day – we make choices, like Jacob and Joseph, that impact our lives and the lives of others. What choices will you make? Will you invite God into the process? Choose wisely, dear friends, choose wisely.

Let us pray:  O Gracious One, help us to do to others as we would have them do to us, to love our enemies, do good to those who hate us, bless those who curse us, pray for those who abuse us.  Help us to be merciful, as you are.  You tell us not to judge, lest we be judged, to forgive and we will be forgiven, to give and it will be given to us, a good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, for the measure we give will be the measure we get back.  Amen.

Blessed; ICCM 2.17.19;  Psalm 1; Pastor Rebecca Ellenson

I think that I shall never see, A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest, Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day, And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in Summer wear, A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain; Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me, But only God can make a tree.

My Grandma Rustad taught me that poem when I was a little girl.  It leads my thoughts right into Psalm 1.  Grandma gave me my love of poetry and compelled me to memorize scriptures.  My sister Betsy and I spent a part of a week with her and my Grandpa many summers.  Each evening after supper we would go for a walk around the little town of Nevis, MN.  Grandma would point out the wildflowers and the birds, naming each one.  For her, Joyce Kilmar’s poem led right into Psalm 1.  We learned them both as we walked together.

Blessed is the one who walks not in the counsel of the wicked,
nor stands in the way of sinners, nor sits in the seat of scoffers;
but whose delight is in the law of the Lord, and on the law meditates day and night.
like a tree planted by streams of water, that yields its fruit in its season, whose leaf does not wither.

Like all good poetry, we are left with an image to hold onto here—to be blessed is to be like a fruitful tree, planted by the water, with shiny healthy leaves. 

At the end of worship today I will once again invite you to receive the benediction.  I will raise my hands like this, and I will use scriptural words to pronounce God’s blessing on this congregation.  Today those words will come from two of our appointed texts, Jeremiah 17: 8 and Psalm 1: 1 and 6

May you be like trees planted by water who yield your fruit in its season, watched over and protected by God. 

I have lived nearly all my life in Minnesota—our trees are oaks, maples, elms, birches, tamaracks, white pines.  Right now, the landscape there is monochromatic—whites and greys, hints of blue.  The trees stand bare against the vast grey skyline, waiting for spring.  Even the trees planted by the streams are just stark reminders of the light and warmth that will return. 

The trees here are certainly different, probably more like the trees the psalmist referred to.  The evergreens of this climate are the palms and cacti.  I noticed the other day a Guanacaste tree’s new season’s leaves emerging and the elephant ear shaped pods growing shiny and strong on the huge arching branches.  Soon the Jacaranda trees will reach over the buildings with their glorious purple flowers. 

Trees are indicators of life. Their seasonal changes mimic our own patterns. They lift their leafy up; they send roots down deep into the soil. They are both grounded and growing, stationary and on the move. They stretch, they reach, they seek what gives them life—water, soil, and sun.

Nature teaches us. It is the first expression of God, remember—let there be light and life, and fruit bearing trees.  All of creation is connected in the Creator in ways we’re still learning about.  Scientists recently discovered how trees are connected to each other and can communicate and transmit chemicals between them through the web of fungal connections called mycelium. Wow!

The love of God is revealed in all that God has infused with life. So, it should not surprise us that images of trees, shrubs, water, and earth appear throughout our scriptures. These images are of God and of God’s blessed relationship with us. 

In our Gospel, Jesus preaches the Beatitudes in his Sermon on the Plain. For each present reality—poverty, hunger, weeping, hatred—Jesus offers a promise that is to come. The poor will reap the kingdom, the hungry will be filled, the ones who weep will laugh, and the ones who are excluded will leap for joy. There is promise of immediate change, though.  Even those who are right there in Jesus’ presence and hear his words the moment he speaks them are promised gifts of life and joy to come, but not that very day.

Jeremiah 17 and Psalm 1 paint a similar picture. The green, fruit-bearing tree shall be our hope and future. That tree shall not fear when heat comes, and its leaves shall stay green. Even in darkness and drought, the tree shall grow. Even when everything around it tries to take away its life, be that desert heat or bitter cold, the tree shall not die. In the Lord’s care, the tree will live.

It is not the future we trust in though; it is God. We don’t trust in ourselves. We trust in the God who blesses us through our troubled present and leads us to the other side—to a future of hope. When we despair, we hope in God who holds the past, present, and the future—God who knows the poor, the hungry, the weeping, the hated, the excluded, the defamed. God who keeps promises.

But that’s not the end of the passage is it?  At the end of the Sermon on the Plain, Jesus continues to speak of a future—but this time, a future of woe for those who are rich, who are full, who are laughing now. Their promised future shall be filled with sorrow and emptiness. It’s an uncomfortable, even scathing promise. In Jeremiah, those whose hearts turn away from the Lord “shall be like a shrub in the desert,” parched and alone in the wilderness. The other side of the blessing is woe. The other side of promised hope is the reality of lived suffering and despair.

We inevitably live in both conditions—trusting in God or trusting in ourselves. Hungry and full, weeping and laughing, hated and loved. Jesus reminds us that when we are full, we can be sure that we will one day be empty again, and that the only true fullness that endures is from God. When we are weeping, we can be sure that we will one day laugh and rejoice, and that our joy is from God. For every part of life, there is another time that God holds before us, ensuring that we do not forget God’s presence and power infused in everything we do and through everything we live.

As the changing seasons remind us, God’s promise is that there is always another experience and always a reason to hope. It is winter, even here, and spring will come.  I close with one of my favorite scriptures, this time from the Living Bible translation. 

Ephesians 3:17-19 

¹⁷ And I pray that Christ will be more and more at home in your hearts, living within you as you trust in him. May your roots go down deep into the soil of God’s marvelous love; ^18-19 and may you be able to feel and understand, as all God’s children should, how long, how wide, how deep, and how high God’s love really is; and to experience this love for yourselves, though it is so great that you will never see the end of it or fully know or understand it. And so at last you will be filled up with God’s own self.

Luke 5: 1-11, Isaiah 6: 1-13 Extraordinary Power; Pastor Rebecca Ellenson

Miraculous events and visions raise many questions.  The Old Testament lesson and the gospel for today are no exception to that.  We ask what these extraordinary events have to do with our ordinary, everyday lives.  Our immediate response is usually skepticism, much like the mother who asked her son what he learned in Sunday School that day.

“We heard all about a man named Moses.  He went behind the lines and rescued the Israelites.  Then he came to the Red Sea and called in his engineers to build a pontoon bridge.  After the Israelites got across, he saw the Egyptian tanks coming, so he got on his radio and called in the Air Force who sent in dive-bombers to blow up the bridge with all the Egyptians still on it!”

“Now, son,”  said the mother, “is that really what your teacher told you?”

“Well, not exactly, but if I told you what she told us, you’d never believe it in a thousand years!”

Sometimes we respond in a similar way when we hear of miraculous happenings.  Perhaps because our lives are pretty ordinary.  We have a pattern of life.  We have routines and rhythms that give our lives order.  Right now, it may be the Gordon Campbell series, or golf, or bridge games.  It may be volunteering as a tourist guide at an orphanage, or as an English teacher.  We live with ordinary joys and common struggles that give our lives meaning.  So, when, from our everyday routines we come across stories like those in our lessons today, it’s hard to know just how to respond. 

The Old Testament lesson is the call of the prophet Isaiah and his glorious vision of God’s holiness, from which we draw our response to the words of institution in our communion liturgy each week.

Visions, even in the Old Testament, are rare.  Many people live their whole lives without even a glimpse of the mystical aspects of life.  Others experience transportive visions or theophanies.  Our season of Epiphany is full of biblical stories about amazing events and the season invites us to open ourselves to the holy in life and through prayer and spiritual growth. 

Like the little boy who retold the life of Moses in believable terms, we can be tempted to pass off such experience or adjust them to make them more believable.  Whatever happened to Isaiah, it lies beyond the realm of everyday common experiences.  It was extra-ordinary and provocative, and it brought a response of faith in the prophet.  Throughout this event God was shown to be active and present in the life of a believer in a powerful way.

Today’s gospel lesson presents us with another outstanding story. The marvelous catch of fish and the subsequent call of the disciples is another, extra-ordinary, provocative account.  We come to these texts with our 21^st century mindsets asking modern questions, overlooking the messages conveyed in the stories– that Jesus brings God’s power into all of life. 

When our lives seem routine, or even dull, we can imagine how excited we would be about God if we saw a miraculous event or had an awesome vision.  It’s easy to imagine that if only we had been there to see amazing things we could believe as the original onlookers did. 

But, if seeing is believing, then the people who actually saw the miraculous catch of fish would have been so overwhelmed they would have stopped everything to worship, praise and follow Jesus.  All of Palestine would have known Jesus as Lord.  The word would have quickly spread to the whole world.  His ministry would have been fulfilled then and there. 

That didn’t happen though.  Some people, in Jesus day, as much as today, quickly forgot the good and astounding things that happened to them.  Maybe some of the people who saw Jesus’ miracles explained them away as we often attempt to do.  Seeing is not necessarily believing, because seeing is subject to interpretation.  People often look only at those things that prove what they already believe.  So, they see nothing new or different that might challenge them to change.

What do we see when we look around?  Has God stopped raising people from the dead?  Has God stopped healing people, calling people, restoring the broken to creative lives, or inspiring people beyond their self-accepted limits? 

I see these things all around me.  A woman I know had crippling arthritis which is now gone.  She was not cured by medicine but by prayer.  Another woman I knew lived for 30 years in a nursing home, crippled by arthritis.  She was not physically healed like the other woman, yet her positive attitude and her faith spread love throughout that home.  Those who came to visit her left with a blessing.

I know many recovering alcoholics whose once broken lives have been restored to productivity and joy through their trust and dependence on God.  In my years in ministry I’ve seen people once devastated by loss and anger and bitterness who have been transformed emotionally, spiritually, and relationally.  God is working miracles every day, sometimes in extraordinary ways, sometimes in very ordinary ways. 

There are countless people who live lives of quiet heroism.  They may seem so ordinary that we look right past them.  Single parents care for children while maintaining a home and earning a living.  Many people have pushed through the despair at the end of a marriage either through divorce or death, overcoming obstacles and carrying on with courage. 

I had a great aunt who live to be 95 years old.  After her retirement from public school teaching she served endless hours in community work, feeding and providing for the needy in her small hometown in a quiet and respectful manner.  Her life extended beyond its own limits in ways that revealed her faith and strength.  Each of us know people who live or lived beyond themselves because of a commitment to the example of Christ.

What do the miraculous and visionary accounts of the Bible have to do with our ordinary lives?  Everything!  We only need to open our eyes to the extraordinary to find it all around us. 

Actually witnessing a miracle or having a vision did not then and does not necessarily now convert people to a new way of seeing.  The event itself does not change lives.  Many look and do not see anything special.  What is important is the ability to see Jesus as the source of new life, to hear the call and follow.  The real miracle, in any outstanding event, is the impact of Jesus that turns lives around.

The most extraordinary event is that Jesus laid out his life to convince us, to show us the outstanding power of God in all of life.  Jesus still brings us to see him, to enter deeply into his meaning for life.

Dr. Nelson Traut was the commencement speaker at my graduation from Wartburg Seminary.  He told of his visits home to see his mother.  Each time he came in the door his mother would greet him warmly and then say, “Come and see what the Lord’s been doing.”  Then she would show him how the house had been painted, or tell him about someone who got a job, or show him how well her garden was growing.  Traut said he learned from her that it was indeed the Lord who made these things, all things, happen.

Jesus’ power of transforming lives involves making us see him in all the ordinary everyday events in our lives.  Then our lives become no longer ordinary but outstanding witnesses to the power of God.  The events may not be different but the way we see them is.  Look and see the extraordinary power and glory of God in everyday life.  Amen.

God is Love; February 3, 2019; ICCM; 1 Cor 13: 1-13; Pastor Rebecca Ellenson

Will Willimon is known as one of the best preachers of our times.  He poses a question about today’s gospel. What do you expect in a sermon? What would you most like to happen to you when you are listening to a sermon? Over the years, he’s heard these responses: I like a sermon that helps me think about a biblical passage in a new and fresh way. I think a sermon ought to point out ways that I have gone wrong and to suggest ways that I can get my life back on track. I want inspiration from a sermon, a feeling that I have been taken to a higher place or have been given a special feeling as the result of the sermon. The best sermons are those that give me something that’s easy to remember, something I can take home with me. He agrees that, while there is some truth in all of those responses, the problem is that none of them align well with this Sunday’s gospel – Jesus preaching at his hometown synagogue in Nazareth.

Our gospel picks up right where we left off last Sunday.  Jesus has read from the scroll and sits down to elaborate on the text.  Instead of reciting some memorized rabbinical teaching, he says, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”  He goes on, in his lifetime, to live out this inaugural sermon of his, bringing good news to the poor, release to the captives, recovery of sight, and announcing the Jubilee year of justice. 

The people gathered that day must have been excited.  Could it be, at long last, this long-awaited time of deliverance, foretold by the prophet Isaiah, is fulfilled?  They were having a great service, the music was the right tempo, they got to sing their favorite songs.  It was a nice day.  And then, here come the words about God’s salvation for them, oppressed, occupied Israel. At last, God is making good on God’s promises. At last, God is coming for them. Good news!

Jesus was their hometown boy. They were proud of him, feeling puffed up to claim his as one of their own. But, then he had to preach didn’t he?  He said, in effect, “Isaiah says that God is coming to deliver the faithful. I say that that day of the Lord’s advent is now.”  We can picture him pausing for effect, “Now let’s see, when was the last time that God came to us? During the time of the great prophet Elijah, there had to be many famished Jewish women when there was a great food shortage in the land. It is interesting to find that God’s prophet gave food to none of those hungry Jewish women, but only to a Gentile, pagan woman.”

This wasn’t the sermon they wanted to hear.  Scowls, crossed arms, sideways looks. And Jesus the preacher continues, “And there had to be lots of people suffering from various illnesses during the time of the prophet Elisha, but God’s prophet healed none of them. Only one, a Syrian Army officer, was healed.” When he said “Syrian Army officer” we can be certain it meant exactly the same thing then in Israel that it means today. 

And Luke tells us what happened “When they heard this, everyone in the synagogue was filled with anger. They rose up and ran him out of town. They led him to the crest of the hill on which their town had been built so that they could throw him off the cliff.” 

Well, I’ve had some negative reactions to my sermons over the years, but never has anybody in the congregation tried to murder me because of my preaching.   Sometimes in sermons you get helpful hints for better living. Sometimes you receive answers to your most pressing questions. Sometimes the sermon is well-crafted.  But the thing that really matters is that you hear not the preacher’s words, but God’s Word.  In worship we get the gift of drawing close to God who, in Jesus Christ, has chosen to love us and be close to us. Sometimes that closeness with God feels good and sometimes it doesn’t feel so good. But, our feelings are not the main point. Sometimes what we hear sounds like good news and sometimes it sounds like bad news. The main thing is we have heard God’s news.

Will Willimon says that he has a Rabbi friend who says, “Judaism is a rather simple religion that is based on two profound articles of faith. One, there is only one God. Two, you are not it.”  That might be just what the folk at Nazareth experienced in Jesus’s sermon that day.  They arrived at the synagogue with their conceptions of God firmly in place. But then the preacher, using nothing but scripture, corrected, expanded, critiqued, and enriched their idea of who God is and what God was up to. God’s projects, God’s intentions, God’s concerns are bigger than any congregation or person. I agree with Will Willimon when he says an effective sermon occurs when we are reminded that God is God and we are not.

I think that’s what happens in Paul’s message to the church in Corinth, too.  Yes, I know that it’s extremely hard to hear this love chapter without thinking it’s meant for weddings.  It conjures up memories of rented tuxedos, unity candles and nervous mothers of the bride.  But that’s the farthest thing Paul would have expected this chapter to be used for.  This chapter isn’t about Romantic Love, it’s about God’s unconditional love.  Whenever I preach on this text at a wedding I remind the couple, that no matter what their intentions are—they will at some point in their lives together each be everything this text says love is not—they will be irritable or impatient, rude or boastful, unkind or arrogant.  I remind them that by getting married in the church they are calling for the blessings of God to surround their lives and my job is to remind them that when they are envious or insisting on their own way—to remember that God’s love undergirds and supports their promises and calls them to repentance and forgiveness.

As you may know, this chapter is the culmination of Paul’s long message to the divided congregation in Corinth.  They’ve been jockeying for status among themselves, refusing to share, scorning their neighbor’s spiritual gifts, boasting in their own.  They’ve become clanging gongs.  Without love their gifts are nothing.  All their efforts and accomplishments will come to an end.  The only things that last are faith hope and love. The greatest thing, the thing that lasts is the thing we give away—love.

Paul has been building toward section for 12 chapters.  In chapter 1 he says, God is the source of your life in Christ. In chapter 3 he says, so neither the one who plants, nor the one who waters is anything, but only God who gives the growth.  In chapter 4 he asks, What do you have that you did not receive? If you received it as a gift, then why boast?  In chapter 5 he says, Your boasting is not a good thing.  Chapter 8 gives us these words: Yet for us there is One God, from whom are all things and for whom we exist, and one Lord, Jesus Christ, through whom are all things and through whom we exist.  And Anyone who claims to know something does not yet have the necessary knowledge; but anyone who loves God is known by God.  The love Paul is leading up to in our reading today is meant to be the reality of God’s presence in our lives, and among us, the very basis of who we are. 

Paul isn’t just scolding the congregation here.  He writes in the first person, using himself as an example, since he speaks in tongues, is a prophet, fathoms mysteries and knowledge, performs miracles and lives self-sacrificially.  Each example builds on the one before, if the ability to speak in tongues of mortals is amazing, how much more so the ability to talk with God in ecstatic language.  If prophecy is good how much better the ability to understand mysteries. And so on, all the way to sacrificing one’s own body like Jesus?  But they are all nothing without love. 

Personally, I feel convicted whenever I read this passage.  I know I can be irritable and impatient.  I’ve been known to insist on my own way.  Perhaps you have too.  And what happens when we admit our failings?  What happens when we are convicted and we confess, when look in the dim mirror of self-awareness and go to the one we’ve hurt.  A miracle happens when we are received in love and forgiveness.  We feel the grace flood over us and restore us, grace not based on our strength or talents, not based on our accomplishments or accumulations, but solely based on love—freely given.

There’s a story from the 4^th Century Desert Fathers, about Abbot Moses.  He was evidently a tall, muscular man with rich ebony-colored skin and warm brown eyes. He had lived a life of scandal and wrong-doing as a robber and murderer before coming to the monastery in the desert where he begged for quite a long time to be accepted as a monk. Now he had lived many years in prayer and contemplation. He knew the long road of remorse and forgiveness. So, when he was called to a council of brothers to consider the consequences of the misdoings of a young novice he refused to come. The brothers and other Elders continued to implore him to be present. On the day of the council Abbot Moses arrived carrying a basket of sand. The basket had a hole and the sand poured out of the hole creating a trail behind the holy man wherever he went. When asked about the basket and the trail of sand, Abbot Moses replied, “My sins run out behind me and I do not see them. Yet I am summoned this day to judge failings that are not mine.” Chastened by this answer from Abbot Moses, the council released the young man with loving words of encouragement for his spiritual path and prayers for his future.

For those first listeners to Jesus that day in Nazareth, for the Corinthian congregation, for the monks in the desert in the 4^th century, and for us…it’s easy to think we know the answers.

Every person in the synagogue in Nazareth that day began the day by reciting the great Jewish Shema, “Hear O Israel, the Lord your God is one.” Jesus, good Jew that he was, reminded the faithful that it’s not like the Syrians have their God, and we have our patron God who runs errands just for us. There is only one God. God is not our tamed pet. God is God. We are not.

We are always in danger of attempting to cut the great, glorious God down to our size, to substitute other gods for the true and living God. That’s when we ought to pray that we’re about to hear a sermon that again reminds us that God is bigger than our meager concepts, our vain desires, and our little projects.

Paul says Love is the more excellent way.  Jesus says the greatest commandment is to love the lord your God with all your heart soul mind and strength and your neighbor as yourself.  And he encourages us saying, as the Father’s love abides in me, so I abide in you, abide in my love.

Beloved, let us love one another, for love is of God and everyone that 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.

ICCM  1.27.19  Sweeter than Honey; 3 Epiph C; Pastor Rebecca Ellenson

Each of our texts for today point our attention to the role the Word of God plays in the lives of God people. 

The Old Testament reading from Nehemiah gives us a peek into the life of the Judeans, after their exile in Babylon. Emperor Cyrus of Persia had beaten the Babylonians and established his own, more tolerant rule.  He allowed the Jews to return to a small portion of the land that had been theirs, to resettle there and live as they wished.  The Jews had lived for two generations or so in a foreign land.  When the returned, their homes and temple and familiar places had been destroyed and taken over.  They had been exposed to new ideas and world views and struggled to rebuild and adjust. They couldn’t just pick up where their ancestors had left off. They had changed, their world had changed, their understanding was broader. They had new questions. In today’s reading they gathered to hear the word of God read and interpreted for them, and they were overcome with emotion, weeping and rejoicing both. 

Over the past seven years the world has witnessed another exile of people from the middle east.  I imagine that sometime, maybe it will take one or two generations like it did in the Old Testament times, or maybe it will take longer for some of the current refugees’ descendants to return to Syria and face the same sort of disorienting re-settlement.  Having lived their whole lives with the stories of their ancestors’ memories told and retold to them first from resettlement camps in Turkey, or Sweden, or Germany and later from established homes there or elsewhere, they might return to be overcome and overwhelmed to the point of tears at being able to worship in the old ways in the old places once again.

The epistle for today comes from Paul’s letter to the church in Corinth. He instructs them in how to handle their divisions and differences, encouraging them to recognize their interdependence as mutual giftedness. In the early church there were Jewish people, like Paul himself, who saw Jesus as the long-awaited Messiah.  They were steeped in traditional Judaism, the Hebrew Scriptures and practices but were challenged to understand them in new ways because of Jesus. 

There were also growing numbers of followers of Jesus who came from the Greco-Roman worldviews, who hadn’t been circumcised, who didn’t know the Jewish law and the prophets. That was just one of the divisions the early church struggled with. Apparently, in Corinth, there were factions developing, those who spoke in tongues and those who didn’t.  In the chapters just before our reading for today it seems there were cliques, the rich eating by themselves in their gatherings and not sharing what they had with the poor.  The Roman world was highly stratified, and those social distinctions set people apart, rich and poor, slave and free, Greek and Jew, men and women. It is a timeless problem.

Our congregation here is a bit like the one in Corinth, I think.  We come, like they did, from various parts of the world, from various backgrounds and yet we are the body of Christ, one body with many parts.  Just in the last few weeks I’ve been asked several questions that speak to our differences as a body.   

I was talking with a friend a few weeks ago about the different ways we read the Scriptures.  She shared a time early in her Christian walk when she gobbled up every opportunity to learn and to read the Word, attending study groups, reading stories to her boys before bed.  And the changes that have occurred in her understanding over the years, sometimes reading for answers and clear direction, and later growing into an approach that is ok with a recognition that we don’t know all the answers.  Through the course of our conversation I could see that even though she and I approach the Bible differently, the Word has generated deep faith in both of us.   

I grew up in the church.  I learned the song “Jesus Loves Me” as I learned to speak I think.  Jesus loves me, this I know, for the bible tells me so… We went to church most Sundays and prayed before meals and before bedtime.  My mom taught Sunday School and Vacation Bible School.  I was steeped in the Word.  I grew up in a family where I was encouraged to speak my mind, to question and explore.  For me that meant asking questions about faith too.  I participated in a 5-year-long confirmation program with weekly release time from school.  I had great pastors and teachers who welcomed my probing questions.

When I was in about 7^th grade or so I went to bible camp.  It was a powerful week for me, a turning point in beginning to make faith my own.  At camp Emmaus we learned a song based on our psalm for today. 

 “The law of the lord is perfect, reviving the soul, the testimony of the Lord is sure, making wise the simple, more to be desired are they than gold, even much fine gold, sweeter also than honey and the honeycomb.”

After camp, my friend Nancy and I started with Matthew and worked our way, 5 chapters a week, through the new testament.  The word was sweeter than honey.  We were eager to grow and learn and share.  That was the beginning really, of my hunger for the Word.  A few years later, my pastor, Dave Solberg taught me to use Centering Prayer and Lectio Divina as methods of study and devotion.  Then in High School I was invited into an intergenerational study led by a college religion professor in our town.  There I learned how to read the scriptures from an historical critical method, digging into the context of each passage, comparing one biblical text to another for clarification.  In college and Seminary I learned new skills and tools, including learning the original languages and more about the history of Christian interpretation and theology.  We examined the variations in ancient manuscripts and wrestled with how God still speaks across the ages, not only in the words of the Bible, but through the process of study and interpretation. 

Dr. Gary Chamberlain said something to us that I’ll never forget.  He said, “Don’t be afraid to rigorously examine the Scriptures.  They will stand up to any examination you can undertake.  Think of it as a compliment to the Bible to test it, question it, and dig for understanding.”  He quoted the Episcopal Book of Common Prayer which calls on God’s people to not only hear but to “read, mark, learn and inwardly digest” Holy Scripture.  He reassured us that Bible isn’t like cotton candy or Cheetos it won’t melt away.  No, God’s word has substance!  We could chew on it in all its complexity and depth.  Some of the passages are difficult to digest, sure, but we risk missing the fullness of God’s word if we just stick to the parts that are simple and easy to understand. 

I love that the Scriptures are like the ocean, we can wade in its shallows or dive deep into its inexhaustible depths.  I’ve spent my entire adult life probing and questioning, studying and reading, and each time I dig into the Word I find new understanding.  Isn’t that beautiful?  We grow in wisdom and understanding, sometimes overcome with joy or tears. 

The testimony of the lord is sure and righteous altogether, says our Psalm.  The precepts of Yahweh are true, they gladden the heart and enlighten our sight.

The gospel today relates Jesus’ first “sermon” so to speak, at his hometown. He speaks and interprets and enlightens, drawing on the ancient texts to show his mission in the world.

Luke gives us a peek into the way that Jesus was grounded in God’s Word.  Luke relates the experience of the listeners in the Synagogue on that Sabbath day in Nazareth.  They reacted strongly.  After his baptism and long wilderness fast, Jesus came home. It seems the whole town turned out to see for themselves what they have been hearing about him.  Jesus had been prepared well for life, raised as a faithful Jew.  Surely, he had been brought to the synagogue every week.  That day, he was invited to read the lesson from the prophets. There was no lectionary to consult to determine this reading; the choice was up to him. Nor was there a book to flip through. Instead, a bulky scroll was brought to him and placed upon the lectern. Jesus, searching for a familiar text, unrolled it to a place near the end of the scroll. He read aloud these words:

“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”

Finished with this brief passage, Jesus rolled up the scroll, returned it to the attendant, and took his seat. It was the custom for teachers to sit, rather than to stand. So, when Jesus sat, everyone looked at him, expecting some commentary, some explanation of this text that was well known to many of them.  There were no professional preachers then. The synagogue president could invite any appropriate person to comment on the text. Often these remarks were less than inspiring. While the people were biblically literate, commentary on scripture by such speakers was often no more than rote recitation of lessons all of them learned at an early age. Kind of like Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so. Or a recitation of a catechism text.  The congregation usually knew what would be said before it was said.  The only question was whether it would be said correctly or not.

But that’s not what happened.  Jesus didn’t recite a rote lesson.  He claimed those ancient prophetic words as his own personal mission statement.   God’s Spirit came down on him at his baptism to empower him to do precisely this: bring good news to the poor, release to the captives, and recovery of sight to the blind; let all the oppressed go free; and announce the sweet Jubilee Year when God’s justice will reshape society.  This was not just a string of high-sounding words. Everything that followed in his life amounted to the living out of the prophecy he claimed for himself that Sabbath morning in Nazareth.

He kept doing those things every chance he got, every time he turned around, until finally it got him killed. Some people welcomed what Jesus did, but others did not because it upset their unfair advantage, questioned their complacency, and pushed them to recognize their habitual infidelity to God. They found their discomfort increasingly intolerable and expected that his execution would bring an end to the matter.

They were wrong, of course. Jesus’ death didn’t stop anything.  Through the gospel, through the church, here in Mazatlan and back in Canada or the United States, everywhere… those ancient words continue to be fulfilled.

The law of the lord is perfect.  The commandments of the Lord are clear, abiding forever.  More to be desired are they than gold, even much fine gold, sweeter also than honey and the honeycomb.  Amen.

January 20, 2019; ICCM; Pastor Rebecca Ellenson; Extravagant Grace

How priceless is your love, O God! All people can take refuge under the shadow of your wings. We feast on the abundance of your house; we them drink from the river of your delights. For with you is the well of life, and in your light we see light.

From Psalm 36:7-9

One of the things that makes living here so nice is how many opportunities there are to socialize.  This year, Mary and Trish have taken on the task of organizing fellowship activities for our congregation.  A week from tomorrow we will have the first of three potlucks, right here at church. I love potlucks, the variety, the heaping plates and hearty conversation.  One gets a sense of the divine party that never ends and a real foretaste of the feast to come.

In each of the lessons for this Sunday is an invitation to come to God’s party and bring our spiritual gifts with us. All four readings have something to bring to the table: a feast of words and images to inspire, equip, and, well, feed disciples who are hungry for a good Word to fill their bellies and carry them through the week. And, like a church potluck, there is no reason at all that folks should leave worship hungry today. In fact, there’s so much good stuff going on that we can take it right on out of the building, inviting others to God’s party and putting our gifts to good use.

In the first reading, Isaiah proclaims to Judah the wonderful words “You shall no more be termed Forsaken, and your land shall no more be termed Desolate” (vs. 4). The prophet goes on to use the joyous comparison of a wedding with how God intends to honor and rejoice over the people. God is faithful; the gatherings of God’s people are beautiful, and there is reason to rejoice.  God will not leave God’s people bereft.

The opening words we spoke today come from Psalm 36, appointed for today.  The first song we sang today is based on that text too.  We are encouraged to praise God as we walk through life in the world, keeping God at the center of everything, even as we take shelter under the protection of God’s care.

Paul’s words to the gifted but divisive congregation at Corinth are every bit as applicable to us today. The Spirit still activates gifts in each one of us, and when we all bring our gifts together God is glorified and amazing mission and ministry are possible.

When we worship it’s a celebration of God’s extravagant grace.  When we think of baptism and touch water, and when we taste the bread and cup, we are reminded that God named us and claimed us and marked us. Through ordinary water and extraordinary Word, we are being made into someone new. We have been adopted and welcomed into the family of God, and into the community of faith and we continue to live into the reality of God’s purpose for us and for our sisters and brothers as the Body of Christ. Together at God’s table, at this celebration that has no end, we bring our gifts, our hopes, our dreams.  And we bring our pain and sorrow to the feast– so that we can hear, taste, and see that God is good. We recount the great stories of the faith, and we bear witness to the fact that the winds of the Spirit still blow through our lives today. We learn to be stewards of all that God has entrusted to us. Yes, something extraordinary is happening with ordinary folks like us and wherever two or more gather in the name of Jesus. This is very good news.  We can invite people to come to the party where all are welcome and where all have gifts of worth and value to bring.

The ultimate party gift this week, however, is Jesus’ first sign at the wedding in Cana, The jars Jesus used for this sign were meant for ritual purification; they were empty but filled with clean water at Jesus’ request. From something ordinary, Jesus made something extraordinary. With something regular, Jesus did a new thing.

Today’s gospel lesson gives us a remarkable revelation about the extravagant nature of God. It’s time for us to sit up and take notice of just how blessed we are. This is a story about the awesome, unimaginable, incredible grace of God who takes on flesh and gives us a glimpse of God’s character.

Jesus is the guest at a wedding. The party has been going on for a while. The wine has been poured and the guests have been enjoying their host’s hospitality. Eventually the wine runs out. Now at most weddings, when the wine runs out or when the bar closes, it’s no big deal, the party just winds down, and people go home. But at this particular party, Jesus’ mother points out that there is no more wine, clearly expecting her son to do something about it. Jesus hesitates at first because it’s not his responsibility and the timing is all wrong. But his mother just carries on like Jesus hasn’t said a word. Mary instructs the servants to do whatever Jesus tells them to do. And so, Jesus gives in.

All that Jesus had to do to satisfy his mother and the rest of the guests was to provide a little more wine. But instead, he provides at least one-hundred and fifty gallons of wine, and not just any wine but the best of vintages!  Seriously, can you even imagine a party where the wine runs out and the host provides not just a little more but one-hundred and fifty gallons of the best wine?

Jesus shows us in a very dramatic way, what God is like. 150 gallons of the best wine for a group of people who have already been drinking is simply outrageous. But then isn’t that just like God?  How else might the gospel writer demonstrate the wonder and the generosity of the One who is the source all that is and all that ever shall be?

Just look at the fruits of the earth.  For example, the Creator did a perfectly fine job with the humble apple. It is a wonderful fruit. We can all be satisfied with an apple. But that wasn’t enough, the Creator took the idea of fruit even farther.  Consider the Kiwi, or the passion fruit, or any number of the many fruits we can buy at the market here in Mexico!  Or if you don’t think that the Creator is extravagantly generous, look at birds. Crows and sparrows are marvelous creatures. Their wings alone are amazing. But God went way beyond that. Hummingbirds, with their wings that call flap at hundreds of times a minute—need I say more? What about flowers? Daises are beautiful in and of themselves, but that wasn’t enough. Our Creator, the Source of All Being, flowered the earth with roses, orchids, bird of paradise, Jacaranda trees and hibiscus.  Have you ever seen a banana flower!?

We only need to look around us to see the extravagantly generous nature of God.

The gifts of Jesus at the wedding feast went far beyond meeting the needs of the moment for the health or safety or nourishment of Jesus’ friends. Today’s gospel shows us that the gifts of Jesus encompass the celebration of life itself. The sheer abundance of the gifts Christ brings to humankind extend beyond what any human being can ask or think or comprehend. The nature of God, revealed in Jesus the Christ, is more than enough to cause us to rejoice every day of our lives. Just as Jesus has revealed our Creator’s grace to us, Jesus calls us to celebrate and serve one another. We have been blessed with a sheer abundance of gifts. God’s generosity to us is beyond our comprehension and cannot be confined.

Some of us are still learning how to share a cup of water with our neighbors, when we could be pulling out all the stops to celebrate life. We are called to follow Christ, and that means we are called to the kind of extravagant generosity that boggles the imagination. We are called to commit outrageous acts of kindness, inspired by the inconceivable grace of our God, and drunk with the joy of life, we are invited to use Amazing Grace as our guide, in order to achieve the will of Our Creator, who takes the time to create not just apples, but passion fruit. This, dear sisters and brothers, is good news indeed.

Our God is the source of life, So, worship God by living. Our God is the source of love, So, worship God by loving, Our God is the ground of our being, So, let us worship God by having the courage to be all that we have been created to be, gifted for the common good.

Amen.

Baptism of our Lord; January 13, 2019

Pastor Rebecca Ellenson; ICCM

It was the middle of the night in Mansfield MN, in the winter of 1992 when I got a call from the hospital.  Lenore had gone into labor early. I was pregnant too and we were due about the same time. The baby was two months early and the parents wanted me to come quickly to baptize him before he was airlifted to Rochester’s neonatal unit. They had already loaded Lenore into an ambulance for transport when I got there, but Brian, the baby’s father met me and led me to the delivery room where the doctors and nurses were circled around the tiniest little boy.  His fingers were like paper matches, his head the size of a tangerine. 

As someone helped me gown and mask, I asked for water. I opened my occasional services manual and I dipped my finger in the medicine cup filled with sterile water I had been given. I looked to Brian and asked the baby’s name.  Dripping a few drops on his head I said, “Paul, I baptize you in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.”  While the medical staff inserted an umbilical cord-IV I made the sign of the cross on Paul’s tiny forehead, “Child of God, you have been sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever.”  I invited the medical staff to join with me in the Lord’s prayer beforee they whisked him off to the helicopter. 

As Brian and I returned to the room Lenore had been in he asked, “Is that all there is to it? Why do you do all that other stuff in church then?”  I explained that in infant baptism there are three promises—the promise of God to claim the child in Christ, the promise of the parents and sponsors to raise the child in faith, and the promise of the congregation to support the family and surround them with the resources of faith, welcoming the child as a fellow member of the body of Christ. I reassured him that when Paul was strong enough to join us in worship, we would complete the other parts.  A few months later we did just that. It was a happy day in church then, with little Paul out of danger, his big sisters standing with his parents and sponsors, the congregation breathing sighs of relief and joy after carrying the family in their prayers for months.  I often think of that baptism, the fear that first night in the hospital, the many sleepless nights for the family… the three promises of claiming love and all the ways they work.

Here in this community of faith we come from all different denominational backgrounds, traditions and locations. Most of you have primary membership in a congregation in the USA or Canada.  Some of you were baptized as infants, some as teens or adults.  There may be some of you here today who have never been baptized—if that’s the case I’d love to talk with you more privately. Our various doctrines could divide us, even as the scriptures about Baptism indicate the unifying aspect of baptism. No matter the age, the setting, or the method—the waters of baptism claim us, hold us, call us to live in God’s love, to love others with God’s love, to know that we are loved with an immeasurable grace.

Paul says in 1 Cor 12: 13 “for we were all baptized by one Spirit so as to form one body—whether Jews or Gentiles, slave or free—and we were all given the one Spirit to drink.”  We could add, whether Baptists or Lutherans, Evangelicals or Progressives… we are one body in Christ.  And in Galatians 3: 27 Paul wrote, “for all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves in Christ.” It is traditional to wear white for baptism, symbolizing the cleansing of our sins and emphasizing that we put on Christ.  In Ephesians 4: 4-6 Paul reiterates again, “There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to on  hope; one Lord, one faith, one baptism; one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all in all.” 

Baptism is God’s embrace, welcoming us into the fellowship of the church.  We are united with Christ in baptism into the life, death and resurrection of our Lord.  In the passage from the Old Testament today we can hear God’s affirming claim on our lives, “Do not fear, for I have redeemed you, I have called you by name, you are mine.  When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you.  For I am the Lord your God, the Holy One.  You are precious in my sight and honored, and I love you. …I created you for my glory!”

Six years ago, Steve and I celebrated our 10^th wedding anniversary with a trip.  We were thrilled to be able to visit Turkey, spending a day in the ancient city of Ephesus, where Paul preached to the Gentile converts. It’s a stunning archeological site from about the time of Christ with miles of marble streets and an amphitheater that could seat 15,000 people.  There are crosses carved into the doorposts juxtaposed with carvings of Roman gods and goddesses.  We stood on one spot and saw a temple to one of the Roman gods, the Basilica of St. John, and the ruins of an early Mosque. 

For me, though, the most amazing thing I saw was a baptismal font, carved in the shape of a cross and a coffin at the same time.  Each arm of the cross was a stairway, descending or ascending, 6 feet from a 6-foot long trough.  I read that in those days the candidate for baptism would descend one side and lie down into the watery tomb three times, with the priest asking before each dunking, the first time “Do you believe in God the Father,” the candidate would rise up sputtering for breath, “I Believe” the second time “Do you believe in God the Son,” and the third time “Do you believe in God the Holy Spirit.” 

After their three responses the baptized would rise and ascend the stairs on the other side, with their new Christian name, having died to sin, having been buried with Christ, rising to new life in forgiveness and promise on the other side.  When I saw that font I recalled Paul’s words from Romans chapter 6: “All of us who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death.  We were therefore buried with him through baptism into death in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life.  For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly also be united with him in a resurrection like his.” 

John the Baptist may have been one of the members of the community of the Essenes, an ascetic group of Jews from that time period who practiced a strict adherence to Jewish law. They had a special concern for purity, and a belief in the imminent coming of Messiah. John’s baptism for forgiveness and repentance may have been an adaptation of the Jewish patterns of ritual cleansing. John was doing something new that day when Jesus and the other people were baptized.

Luke tells us that the heaven was opened and God spoke directly to Jesus. It’s a moving and dramatic scene – Jesus emerging from the waters of baptism as the Spirit alights upon him. What power and symbolism there is in that scene, an Epiphany—a shining revelation of God’s presence encountering Jesus – and, through Jesus, all of us. God removes all that separates us from God and meets us where we are.

This is the mystery and the power that Baptism offers– that God comes to meet us where we are and as we are, with water and the word that we might know that we, too, are beloved children of God and that God is well pleased also with us.

This week, as you swim, or wash the dishes, or drink your first glass of water each day, or as you bathe or wash your hands, even as you gaze at the waves or the sunset over the ocean, I invite you to make the sign of the cross on your foreheads in memory of God’s claim on you. 

Pastor Adam Hamilton handed out waterproof tags for his congregants to hang in their showers with these words.  “Lord, as I enter the water to bathe, I remember my baptism. Wash me by your grace. Fill me with your Spirit. Renew my soul. I pray that I might live as your child today, and honor you in all that I do.”  Perhaps you could post a little note in your own baño with what your baptism means to you. 

On this Sunday we remember the Baptism of our Lord. And we remember our baptismal identity as part of our celebration. Today we can remember that Jesus came as one of us and in our union with him we are also caught up in the power of the creating and redeeming God.  We are clothed in Christ, we are one body in one baptism. 

ICCM; Pastor Rebecca Ellenson; January 6, 2019; Epiphany

It seems that Christmas just won’t let go this year.  The gospel for today seems to be the Christmas story all over again.  A closer look reveals that this is not the story we’re used to hearing.  We’re used to Luke’s version of the Christmas story, complete with the songs of Mary and Elizabeth, the journey to Bethlehem on a donkey, the search for a room, the stable, the shepherds, the angels.  That’s the reading assigned for Christmas each year.  Today’s version of the birth of Jesus come from Matthew’s gospel and is the assigned reading for the day of Epiphany, January 6^th, which only falls on a Sunday every 7 years or so.  That means it’s hardly ever the assigned text for preaching.

There’s very little overlapping material between these two different Christmas gospels. So, today I want to look at the differences and focus in on the diversity of witness we find even within the Bible itself.  A bit of background first…  of course, you know that we have four gospels.

Mark was the first gospel written, sometime around 60 or 65 AD.  It has a particular character to it—it’s short, direct and immediate in focus.  The stories are brief and urgent.  Mark doesn’t mention the birth or childhood of Jesus at all but starts his gospel with Jesus baptism by John.

Matthew and Luke were both written later, after 70 AD.  We know, from historical documents, that the temple in Jerusalem was destroyed in 70 AD. Since both Matthew and Luke refer to the destruction of the temple, we can date those gospels as later than Mark’s which doesn’t mention it at all.   Matthew’s and Luke’s gospels both follow the same general outline as Mark’s.  Most scholars think that they each had access to Mark’s gospel and used it as their foundation. 

Matthew was most likely written in Greek and then translated into Aramaic which tells us he was writing for a community of mainly Greek speaking Jewish Christians.   He’s interested in showing the way that God is reaching out beyond just Jews with a messiah for all the people.  He is interested in showing Jesus as both the fulfillment of Old Testament prophecies and the bringer of a whole new era too.

Luke’s gospel has a literary elegance to it.  It’s the gospel that’s most focused on the poor and on Jesus as the bringer of justice.  It was written by the same hand that wrote the Acts of the Apostles. 

John’s gospel follows a completely different outline and includes many passages that don’t occur in the other three.  John focused on the divinity of Christ and has a sort of anti-Jewish theme that indicates that it was written much later, perhaps as late as 100 AD, after the Christians as a group had time to separate a bit more from the Jews.  John’s gospel is marked by long monologues and poetic passages, many layers of meaning and rich symbolism instead of the stories, parables and sayings of the earlier writings.  John doesn’t write about Jesus birth or childhood at all.  Instead he gives us a poetic and symbolic passage about the Word becoming Flesh, the Light shining in the darkness.

There is a rich diversity of thought and even a pluralism of ideas within the Bible when we compare the various writers and the different schools of thought represented.  I find that diversity of thought stimulating—it gives us room to explore, sets the pattern for us to see that God’s revelation to us isn’t finished.  God is still speaking today. 

In Native American storytelling the speaker will sometimes begin a tale by saying, “I don’t know if this really happened, but I know it’s true.”  It’s only our modern, factual focus that gives us trouble when we compare Matthew and Luke’s Christmas gospels and see that they don’t match exactly.  When we read the scriptures, the questions we ask make a big difference.  The gospel writers weren’t intending to write a historical report.  They crafted their writings to answer the questions: What does it all mean?  What is God’s message to us?   How does God speak to us today in this text?  Those questions lead to a rich depth and a variety of understandings over the ages. So, let’s dig into Matthew’s version of the Christmas story boldly, confident that there is a message there for us today.  

It seems to be another Christmas story but without the shepherds, angels, donkey, inn or stable.  We have Jesus born in Bethlehem and the wise men coming from the east looking for the baby with their gifts.  We have King Herod with his concern and suspicion and his false words about wanting to worship the newborn king.  We have the star of David shining over Bethlehem, leading the magi to the baby and then a dream of warning to the same magi, prompting their quick retreat by another road. 

All we know for sure about the wise men was that they came from the East, following the rising of a star and looking for a newborn King.  They went to Jerusalem–the place of local power.  King Herod took them seriously, calling them into his presence so he could learn everything they knew. After their audience with Herod the magi continued to follow the star until they were overwhelmed with joy at finding Jesus and Mary.  They gave their gifts–gold a gift for kings, frankincense an incense used by priests in Temple worship, and myrrh a healing and embalming salve.  Each of those strongly symbolic gifts that tell something about Jesus: a king sorts, a religious leader, a healer, and a man who would die. 

The wise men were not Jews.  They were from the Median tribe of ancient Persia–an area that is now part of central Iran.  They were priests of a religion that worshipped a god called Zoroaster.  The religion started in about the time period of our OT lesson for today–500 years or so before Christ. As priests, they were responsible for offering sacrifices, making prophecies, and reading the stars. They were astrologers.  There are historical records of a star from the time of Jesus’ birth that rose in the daytime with the sun.  It was called the Mesori star, which by the way, means the Birth of a Prince.  That is about all we know about the magi and their visit to Jesus.

We’re left with questions:  Why did they come?  What significance does their bowing down before Jesus have?  What does it mean that these strangers to Israel would recognize Jesus while no one else did?  Why in the world is the glory and wonder of Christmas clouded over by the presence of these astrologers, these people who deal in the occult and magic? 

And what about this business with Herod.  His words “Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage”, reek of falseness and his secret scheming to get his hands on the child.  In the very next section of Matthew’s gospel, a section often called the massacre of the holy innocents, we read that when Herod found out he had been tricked by the magi he was furious and gave orders for all the children in and around Bethlehem under the years of age of two to be killed.  Clearly, Matthew doesn’t give us the happy, glorious, wondrous Christmas gospel we are used to.

Matthew pushes us back into the real world, showing us that Jesus came not just into a peaceful stable in Bethlehem, complete with singing choirs of angels and adoring shepherds.  No, Jesus also was born into a world of manipulations and darkness, a world filled with scheming political figures and distant travelers from other faiths.  It is good news that the baby we celebrate as the Messiah cannot be imprisoned in the sheltering confines of romanticized scenes or memories.  Christmas speaks to the harsh realities of life, too. 

Today we move into the season of Epiphany.  The word Epiphany means the shining or the showing.  The season that starts today has historically been a time to focus on how God is shown to us in our world. Epiphany celebrates the identity of this baby being made clear.  The season’s symbol is the revealing light of the star, shining its light on all the dark places too. 

Matthew’s gospel reminds us that the effects of Jesus’ birth reach beyond our happy celebrations. The magi were astrologers from the East who reminded the Jews of that time period that Jesus could not be possessed by the Jews alone.  The plotting of Herod reminds us that the powers of the government cannot contain the love of God.  Herod was not able to stop the message of God’s grace from getting through. Yes, eventually Jesus was put to death.  But not even the governmental power to execute a person was enough to stop the love and power of God. 

Today’s gospel is a strong reminder to us that God’s gift of grace is to all creation, that God’s grace enters the world of shady dealing hucksters and powerful political manipulation with an even stronger power.  Today’s gospel brings Christmas out of the manger scene and into the real world where, like it or not, we live.  AMEN

Let us pray— O God, you continue to show yourself to people in every age.  As we move past the seasonal glitter, as we put away the Christmas decorations and lights for another year, teach us to look for your coming all around u.  Open each of us to your word for us today.  AMEN

Dec 29, 2018; 1 Christmas C; ICCM; Pastor Rebecca Ellenson; Growing Up;

Do you remember being twelve years old? I was in 6^th grade, I had braces and glasses and was physically quite small.  My grandmother had died the year before and I was asking all kinds of questions about faith and life, death and meaning. Twelve is an in-between time. Cognitively most 12-year-olds can do some abstract thinking and are beginning to separate from their families in terms of identity. At that age we are engaged in the important work of growing up.

When Jesus was 12, he and his parent went to Jerusalem as they did each year for the festival of the Passover. It’s strange to think about Jesus as an adolescent. Luke is the only gospel writer to give us any information about that stage of Jesus’ life.  Like pencil marks on the door frame Luke measures Jesus’ life by ritual scenes.  Earlier in this chapter Jesus was dedicated in the temple. Later he is baptized in the Jordan and then faces temptations in the wilderness.  We learn how Jesus was shaped by his parents and by the rhythms and rituals of Jewish life. It was about the time for his bar-mitzva.  The words mean the “son of the law”.  It was a coming of age rite where adults would no longer speak for him. He spoke for himself there in the temple and the others listened. 

We get a fully human portrayal of Jesus in this gospel as he grows into who he will become. I hope we can refrain from reading back into these early stories the doctrinal formulations many of us know by heart, you know, “Of one being with the Father, through whom all things were made… true God from true God…” 

Even after his baptism though, Jesus had to live into what it meant to be God’s son.  In the wilderness he was tempted with his identity.  “If you are the Son of God turn these stones into bread…” Jesus didn’t rely on some kind of super human power there in the desert.  He depended on the sustaining power and presence of God and God’s word. 

From the cross he heard those same challenges thrown at him by the crowd.  “He saved others, let him save himself is he is the Messiah.”  Nailed to the cross, we see Jesus reaching inward to the words he learned as a child, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.”  And we hear an echo of today’s text, “Do you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?” The Word of God dwelt in him richly, at every step, from the time he was 12 until the day he died. 

In our text today we see Jesus growing up, establishing his identity.  That task involves creating relationships, setting priorities, making decisions. It’s a process we all engage in.  We choose values and beliefs that structure our lives. Along the way we make mistakes, get lost, backtrack, and sometimes just need to start over. Ultimately, growing up means moving out and finding a new home. This may be a geographical move, but most certainly it involves psychological and spiritual moves.

It is no surprise that Mary would be in a panic when she discovers that Jesus is not with the group of travelers. With great anxiety she and Joseph search for him. Three days later the one who was lost has been found. Mary’s first words are, “Child, why have you treated us like this?” What I really hear is, “Where have you been young man? Your father and I did not survive angel visits, birth in a manger, and living like refugees in Egypt only to have you get lost in Jerusalem.” But Jesus isn’t the one who is lost. He knows who he is and where he belongs. Mary and Joseph are the ones who are learning the most.  This gospel may be about growing up but not just about Jesus’ growing up. It is about Mary and Joseph and you and me growing up too.

On some level Jesus is the one who pushes Mary and Joseph to grow. Children have a way of doing that to their parents. They challenge us to look at our world, our lives, and ourselves in new, different, and sometimes painful ways. That is exactly what Jesus’ question to Mary does. She had put herself and Joseph at the center of Jesus’ world. His question was about to undo that.

“Why were you searching for me?” he asks. “Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?” Jesus has put the Father at the center of his world and asks Mary and us to do the same, to move to the Father’s home.

Authentic growth almost always involves letting go and stepping forward into something new.  Carl Jung said we live our lives in too small shoes.  We resist the change required by growth. How true.  Part of Mary’s pondering in her heart must have been about letting go of her “boy Jesus” image. Jesus was born of Mary but his identity becomes so much more. He is with her but does not belong to her. She can give him love but not her thoughts or ways. He is growing into his own soul’s purpose. 

This movement of Jesus is not a rejection of his earthly parents but a re-prioritizing of relationships. It is what he would ask of Simon and Andrew, James and John. “Follow me” would be the invitation for them to leave their homes, their nets, their fathers and move to a different place, live a different life, see with different eyes. It is today what he asks of you and me.

Given the demographics of this congregation it’s safe to say on one level we’re all grown up.  But on another level, we’re never really done moving into deeper and more authentic relationships with God, our world, each other, and ourselves. We move through stages all our lives, from one pair of small shoes into the next size, from one level of awareness to the next.

Maybe you’ve heard the joke about the Rabbi, the Priest and the Lutheran Minister debating when life begins.  That’s easy says the priest, life begins at conception.  No, life begins when the baby takes it’s first breath and starts to cry says the minister.  Oh, you’ve got it wrong says the Rabbi, Life begins when the last child moves out and the cat dies.  Certainly there is some truth to that joke.  Life begins again and again offering opportunities for joy and sorrow, for growth and learning as we go along. One of the early church fathers, Irenaeus, described this truth when he said The Glory of God is a fully alive human being. 

I read a story this week about a grandmother told by her granddaughter.  At the time of her grandfather’s death, at 90 years of age, her grandparents had been married for over 60 years. Grandma felt the loss deeply and retreated from the world, entering into a deep time of mourning for nearly five years. 
 
One day the granddaughter visited, expecting to find Grandma in her usual withdrawn state. Instead, she found her sitting in her wheelchair beaming. When the granddaughter didn’t comment quickly enough about the obvious change, Grandma asked her “Don’t you want to know why I’m so happy? Aren’t you even curious?”

She explained her new understanding: “Last night figured out why I’ve been left to live without my husband. Your grandfather knew that the secret of life is love, and he lived it every day. I have known about unconditional love, but I haven’t fully lived it. … All this time I thought I was being punished for something, but last night I realized that I have a chance to turn my life into love, too.”  Although age inevitably continued on its course, her life was renewed. She became a force for reconciliation and good relationships in her family. In the last days of her life, the granddaughter visited her grandma in the hospital often. As she walked toward her room one day, the nurse on duty looked into her eyes and said, “Your grandmother is a very special lady, you know…she’s a light.” Yes, love and joy lit up her life and she became a light for others until the end.

Our text from Colossians today describes the growth pattern set before us.  It involves letting go of what is safe and familiar, a necessary process if we are to grow in the love and likeness of Christ.  It means letting go of an identity that is limited to our biological family, job, community reputation, ethnic group, or political party and trusting that who we are is who we are in God. It means that we stop relating to one another by comparison, competition, and judgment and begin relating through love, self-surrender, and vulnerability. It means that we let go of fear about the future and discover that God is here in the present and that all shall be well. We stop ruminating on past guilt, regrets, and sins and accept the mercy and forgiveness of God and each other. We see our life not in opposition to others but as intimately related to and dependent upon others.

Our Colossians text puts it out there for us.  We are to put on Christ, to let the word of Christ dwell in us richly, and to live in the name of our Lord Jesus.  Amen.

12/23/18 4 Advent C, Luke 1: 39-55; ICCM; Songs of Blessing; Pastor Rebecca Ellenson

Today we heard the prophetic blessing songs of Elizabeth and Mary as they share their outrageous pregnancy experiences together.

Who would you run to if you, like Mary, had exciting, unexpected, life-altering, potentially world-changing news?  Mary ran to Elizabeth, a cousin of sorts, a mentor-like figure at least a generation older than herself. In addition to providing a refuge and a comfort to Mary, Elizabeth functioned as a prophet who proclaimed a benediction, a blessing over Mary, over her child, and over Mary’s trusting faith.  The minute Elizabeth heard Mary’s voice she sings out, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the child you will bear!  As soon as I heard the sound of your greeting the child in my womb leaped for joy.  Blessed is she who has believed that the Lord would fulfill God’s promises to her!”  Elizabeth foretells with joy that Mary will bring liberation in God’s name. 

Biblically speaking, blessing goes all the way back to the creation stories.  God created life and blessed it.  We see blessing in the stories of Abraham and Sarah with the establishment of their family in order to be a blessing to others.  Rebekah’s family blessed her as she left her homeland to marry Isaac. Jacob cheated his brother to get a blessing and later wrestled with the angel to be blessed again.  We can trace blessing throughout the scriptural stories, songs and prophecies.

There are two basic meanings of blessing in the scriptures.  Blessing can be a proclamation, a statement of goodness to or for another.  It can also be the condition that results from a right relationship with God.  God’s intention for all creation is to experience blessing:  wholeness, peace, and fulfillment. But of course, that blessed condition is broken by sin.  So, a blessing is a declaration of that inherent goodness. New life and forgiveness through Christ is the ultimate blessing.  We use the word so lightly in ordinary speech, count your blessings, we say.  But the material ease and happiness we enjoy from day to day are temporary.  Spiritual blessings available to us in Christ reach a different level. 

In Jewish households, at sundown on Friday nights, in celebration of the sabbath, parents embrace the custom of blessing their children.  There are many variations on how the blessing is made.  Often the bless-or places one or both hands on the child’s head and concludes with a blessing from scripture; “May God bless you and watch over you, may God’s face shine toward you and grant you peace.”  The parents might whisper a word of praise for something they have done or a word of encouragement or love, even a recognition of something good in their character or identity.  It is concluded with a hug or a kiss. 

When we bless someone, or are blessed by them, we honor our connection with them and with God.  We affirm God’s presence and intention for blessing among us.  The poet, Vaclav Havel, said it this way:  Speaking a word of blessing “is an orientation of the spirit, an orientation of the heart; it transcends the world that is immediately experienced and it is anchored somewhere beyond its horizons.”

Elizabeth’s announced God’s blessing for Mary, that she would live into God’s plan for her in the world.  It’s a powerful thing, to be blessed.

Who would you run to, if you, like Mary were overwhelmed by what was ahead of you?  I’ve had several older, wiser, mentor-like women in my life.  There’s Norma, and Barb, and Pam, women who have really seen me, deeply; women I trusted who knew my strengths and challenges and who encouraged and blessed me. They were each a refuge for me at a time when I needed it.

But, my big sister Betsy, has always been there for me.  She’s the one I’d run to. Betsy was here visiting two weeks ago. It was the first time in our adult lives that we’ve spent a whole week together without our parents or children there too. We walked and talked and laughed ‘til we cried and held our stomachs. It was a blessing for both of us. 

Betsy happened to be here on December 12^th, the feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe.  Having been raised Lutherans, neither of us knew much about the traditions associated with the day. Evidently on December 12^th ,1531 a poor young Indian named Juan Diego from Tepeyac, near Mexico City, experienced the presence of a woman who identified herself as the Mother of God and instructed the boy to get the bishop to build a church on the site of her appearance. She left an image of herself imprinted miraculously on his tilma, a poor-quality cactus-cloth. It is said that the tilma should have deteriorated within 20 years but shows no sign of decay after over almost 500 years.

I showed Betsy the cathedral on that day, with the hundreds of families making their procession to the booths set up around the outside of the building, small children dressed up in peasant attire for their annual holiday photos. I also showed her the backside of Icebox hill, just a few blocks from our apartment, where there is a shrine to the Virgin of Guadalupe as Mary is called in Mexico.

Even though Mary has never played a significant role in my faith development I enjoy walking past the shrine, looking at the blinking and flashing light display, the fresh flower arrangements, the many manger scenes complete with every imaginable figurine, and the recorded music that jingles into the December air, I wonder how the story from 1531 has shaped the lives and spirituality of the people of Mexico. Guadalupe is also called La Virgen Morena, the Brown Virgen and her image has been emblazoned on the banners of revolutionary groups throughout Mexico’s history. She appeared to a humble peasant boy, she looked like the indigenous people. She is experienced as a blessing for many.

For Roman Catholics, Mary functions as a go-between with sinners on earth and God in heaven. During the Middle Ages, as the church’s leadership became more and more distant from the people, Mary became important in the prayer lives of the common folk, as one who could empathize with their plight and mediate forgiveness.

In the councils of the Church through the centuries, Mary gradually gained supernatural qualities and Protestants see Roman Catholics as overemphasizing Mary’s role to the point that she is venerated almost on par with her son. We don’t have to worship Mary though to see her as a person of faith, called by God, struggling with the daily demands of her life.

Our gospel today shows us her startling role. For Luke, Mary is first a prophet. Every painting or statue or tilma I’ve ever seen of Mary shows her as quiet and passive. But Luke shows us a bold  singer of justice who has gone through all the classic steps of the call of prophets familiar in the Old Testament: God’s initial call, God’s task, prophet’s objection, God’s reassurance, prophet’s acceptance of call.

The angel called and commissioned Mary to her prophetic task in the annunciation: “Hail, favored one . . . you will conceive in your womb.” Like Isaiah and Ezekiel and Jeremiah God sent a messenger to tell her that she has been chosen. It’s not a proposal, it’s a pronouncement.  The angel doesn’t say, “Your mission, Mary, should you choose to accept it.” The angel says to her, “And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus.” Like other prophets, Mary is informed, not consulted, about what she is going to do.

The prophet always objects to the call by protesting their inadequacy or pointing to some factor that makes it impossible. Jeremiah said, “Ah, Lord God! Truly I do not know how to speak, for I am only a boy.” Moses said, “Lord, I am not a very good public speaker. Here am I, send Aaron.” So, it’s quite expected that Mary would object with the highly practical question: “How can this be, since I am a virgin?”

But, God never pays any attention to prophetic objections and says, “You’re right. There probably is someone better temperamentally suited for this and with a better resume. I’ll keep looking until I find them.”

Then comes the next step: God’s reassurance that God is committed to the prophet: God reassures the Old Testament prophets that the divine presence will abide with them in carrying out the call. The prophet’s job description is not to speak out of his (or her) own wisdom or eloquence, but to be a messenger for God, to do and speak what is commanded. In fulfilling this task, God promises to be with the prophet as deliverer. In Mary’s prophetic call, the angel Gabriel is the mouthpiece for this divine reassurance: “Nothing will be impossible with God”

Call, task, objection, reassurance, acceptance: these are the five stages of the prophet’s call. They may sound quite familiar to you from your knowledge of the Bible and its prophets. They may sound quite familiar to you from your knowledge of your own past and present struggles with God.

This Christmas season, we have much to learn from Mary and Elizabeth, the prophets.  Their individual tasks were unique to each of them but the prophetic call extends to us all. We, like them, and like all those named in the stories of our faith, are blessed, to be a blessing with the reassurance that God will carry us through.  Amen.