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ICCM; March 8, 2020; Pastor Rebecca Ellenson Steve and I have been taking tango lessons for two years now.  This weekend we went to a workshop with a guest instructor.  We worked on giros for over an hour on Friday.  To do this particular move one must keep the weight on the ball of the foot in order to pivot forward and then backward.  It is important to focus visually in the distance to avoid dizziness.  If you look at the floor or right in front of you, you lose your balance.  How we live our lives can be something like the whirl of a turn. As we twist and turn through our calendars, we can lose our focus by looking away from what orients our life: our faith. With the psalmist, we lift our eyes to the hills—or to the streets, churches, workplaces, malls, or smartphones—but we lose our balance and our steps fail, because the hills are not a reliable source of strength. The psalmist knows where to focus and it’s not the hills, not other people, and not even one’s self. Our help comes from the Lord. God can ground us, clear our vision, and help us move without reeling. The Lord will not let our foot be moved. The Lord will keep us; the Lord will watch over our going out and coming in. Like the psalmist, we can choose to focus on the Lord. No one wants to be dizzy or nauseous (except young children who like to spin around and around and then attempt to walk without falling). We don’t want to feel helpless, at the mercy of the whirling world around us, so we locate our focus where it belongs. We look to the Lord. We keep our gaze steady and hold our sight. God doesn’t stop the spinning, but instead offers a spot to give our turning focus. In John 3, Jesus offers Nicodemus a new spot. Nicodemus comes to Jesus in the night, awhirl with questions about the deeds of power that he and his fellow Pharisees have witnessed Jesus performing. He wonders, “How can these things be?” Jesus uses conversation to facilitate a new focal point in Nicodemus’s life. John’s Gospel features many such conversations, in which Jesus takes time to talk face to face with seekers. He is not afraid to make eye contact and to offer the nearness of the kingdom of God as a counterpoint to the demands of the world. Jesus welcomes these talks that often create genuine relationship and open up a space for conversion. Behavioral economist Jonathan Haidt writes in The Righteous Mind that one of the most potent and effective ways to enact personal change is through relationship. Transformation is made possible when affection forces us to entertain thoughts that differ from our own opinions. For most humans, the only way we change our mind about an issue or a person is to lean toward someone we love who thinks differently. In looking to them, we suspend our own opinions and see the world through their eyes. We change our focus. Nicodemus leans toward the Lord and entertains a new vision of faith. The psalmist leans toward the Lord and shifts the gaze from the hills to the creator and sustainer of life. In love, we too are invited to lean toward Christ.

It’s repeatedly surprising to me that even those of us who have spent our whole lives knowing God’s love for us still live many of our days somewhere between verse one and verse two of Psalm 121. “I lift up my eyes to the hills—from where will my help come?” “My help comes from the Lord.” Whenever we read or recited this psalm, I think there should be a big pause between those two sentences.  I lift my eyes to the hills—from where will my help come?  Pause.  Pause long enough to consider where we are looking for help, then and only them move on to My Help comes from the Lord.” The pause is important.  It’s like the word Selah that we looked at last week.  We pause to consider our own needs, our limitedness and our failings.  Then we look to God and discover the help we need.

It is so easy to get distracted by the worries and the activities of our days or by the irritations or inconveniences.  We forget our focus and we lose our balance.

The Jewish people have a practice that helps them remember who they are and to whom they belong.  They post on their doorposts a Mezuzah- it is a touchstone marked with the Hebrew letter Shin- which is the first letter of the word Shaddai— a word that means the Most High or God. Inside the Mezuzah are the words of the Shema, from Deuteronomy 6: 4-9

Hear, O Israel: The Lord is our God, the Lord alone. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might. Keep these words that I am commanding you today in your heart. Recite them to your children and talk about them when you are at home and when you are away, when you lie down and when you rise. Bind them as a sign on your hand, fix them as an emblem on your forehead, and write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates”

The idea is that whenever they enter or leave their home, they remember that God will keep them, no matter what. They touch it to remind themselves to love the Lord God with all their heart, soul and mind.  Sometimes the Mezuzah is also decorated with the words from our Psalm, The Lord will keep your going out and your coming in from this time forth and forevermore.  It’s something like wearing a cross necklace, or carrying a token in a pocket to remind oneself what is important, or making the sign of the cross over one’s self.  It’s not a good luck charm or a superstition, but a way of keeping our focus.

After that first section, the rest of Psalm 121 seems very assured, like a great hymn of trust in God. But, it can also be seen as a suspense-filled drama in which the story of God’s faithfulness is at great risk. This is a daring love song that is sung in the face of all the other choices we could make. It is not so much philosophical certitude but passionate love for God.

² My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.

³ The Lord will not let your foot be moved;   your keeper will not slumber.
⁴ Israel’s keeper will neither slumber nor sleep.
⁵ The Lord is your keeper; the Lord is your shade at your right hand.
⁶ The sun shall not strike you by day, nor the moon by night.
⁷ The Lord will keep you from all evil; The Lord will keep your life.
⁸ The Lord will keep your going out and your coming in  from this time on and for evermore.

The key word is this psalm is keep/keeper, from the Hebrew word shamar. Who is God? God is a keeper. God’s identity is to protect, shield, watch over, guard, keep. God does this like a watchman keeping guard over a city (130:8) or a bird shielding its young in the shelter of his wings (91:4). What does God promise to do? God promises to keep you. God will guard you as you go on your journey of life, and as you return home. As you go out and come in. As you face the dangers of the day and of the night.

The list of promises here is not meant to suggest that those who walk in the shelter of God will face no harm or that nothing ill will befall them. They are characteristic promises — these are the sort of things that the Lord does for those who turn to the Lord. The words of blessing and promise evoke God’s protection and our awareness of it. 

I recommend memorizing this psalm, recite it when you rise in the morning and at night before you sleep. You could even post it by your doorway to remind you where to look for help.  It can be a touchstone to ward off the doubt and disbelief that pulls us from God like an unseen magnetic force.

The psalms were the songbook for the Jewish people, let the words of this great hymn ring in your mind like the words of your favorite hymn—like Amazing Grace, or the one we’re going to sing right now.  

Let us pray.  O Lord, you are our Keeper, in the morning when we rise, at dark midnight when we cry, just about the break of day, and when we come to die, and when we want to sing.  Focus our sight on Jesus, help us keep our balance and be our help.  Amen.

Selah; 3.1.20; ICCM; Psalm 32; Pastor Rebecca Ellenson

Noel Coward, the famous playwright, once pulled an interesting prank. He sent an identical note to twenty of the most famous men in London. The anonymous note read: “Everybody has found out what you are doing. If I were you I would get out of town.” Supposedly, all twenty men actually left town.

What if you opened your mail one day and found such a note? What would race through your mind? The income you failed to report on your tax return? The time you spent on the internet watching questionable sites? The lies you told about an honest, hardworking individual?

Guilt is the dread of the past; a pain that wells up within our heart because we committed an offense or failed to do something right. It is a phantom pain. You know, like amputees experience after a limb has been removed. A part of the body that does not exist screams for attention.  The memory of some sin committed years ago can cripple the enjoyment of life, any devotional life, and relationships with others. People live in fear that someone will discover their past. They work overtime trying to prove to God they’re truly repentant. They erect barriers against the enveloping, loving grace of God.

Guilt performs an important function. It is like an electric fence that gives us a jolt when we begin to stray beyond our boundaries. It sends an alarm to wake us up that something needs our attention. Like pain, guilt tells us when something is wrong. When you feel it, you don’t just sit there, you do something about it.

The problem comes when we keep our failings secret, holding them inside.  12 Step program participants know the value of confession.  They have a saying—We’re only as sick as our secrets. The steps include making a searching and fearless moral inventory and admitting those things to the self, to another and to God. 

Lent is a time for confessing our shortcomings.  It’s a time to pause, to rest, to reflect.  Today we read about the sin of Adam and Eve in the garden and Jesus’ testing in the wilderness.  Those seem to fit the theme of Lent—but our Psalm for today is full of happy words.  Psalm 32 begins with happiness and ends with being glad, rejoicing, and shouting for Joy.  According to the psalm, it isn’t revelry and parties that brings happiness, but forgiveness. 

Happy are those whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered.  Happy are those to whom the Lord imputes no iniquity, and in whose spirit there is no deceit. While I kept silence by body wasted away through my groaning all day long. For day and night your hand was heavy upon me; my strength dried up as by the heat of summer.  We all know the truth of that.  Consider an argument with a loved one, a really sticky one, the kind that has you pursing your lips and crossing your arms in defiant self-righteousness and silence. When we hold on to the anger, rehearse our woundedness, and savor the injustice we do waste away.  The groaning drowns out all joy.  Harboring anger, hurt and sadness can take up all the space there is, drying up our strength and leaving us feeling the weight of it all like a heavy hand pressing us down.

In our psalm there’s a mysterious little word, Selah, whose meaning has been debated for centuries. Most scholars think that it means stop, dwell, think, or consider. This Hebrew word occurs 71 times in 39 of the Psalms and three times in Habakkuk. Most of the psalms that include the word selah are titled, “to the choirmaster.” The prophetic book of Habakkuk, like the Psalms, is a book of poetry. In the third chapter is a prayer in the form of a song where we find the word selah. It is probably something like a stage direction in a play that was known and understood by musicians and even those who were just singing along. 

We have Bibles written in English because the overwhelming majority of the original Hebrew and Greek words can be translated into English. However, there are a handful of words in the Bible that are not, or cannot, be translated. When this happens, what we read is not a translation, but a transliteration.

A translation is when a Hebrew word is translated into an English word that means the same thing. For example, the Hebrew word erets is translated to earth, because they have the same meaning, so we English speakers just read ‘earth’. 

A transliteration is when a Hebrew word is simply sounded out to English so we can read and pronounce it. An example is Hallelujah. Hallelujah is a transliteration of a Hebrew word that literally means, Praise God (Hallel=praise, Jah =God). Instead of being translated as “Praise God,” this word has been left for us to sound out as it would be in the original Hebrew and continues to be a powerful expression of praise.

Like hallelujah, the fact that selah is transliterated and not translated signifies that when we read selah, we are pronouncing the word generally the same way it would have been pronounced thousands of years ago by those who originally wrote and read it. This little word invites us to pause and consider what God may be saying even when we don’t fully understand. It gives us an opportunity to take a moment away from this crazy, busy, life we all tend to live and consider the immense mysteries and wonders of God. It’s a good reminder of what Lent is supposed to be all about.

It’s after a pause, a reflection on our sin, that we can move to the next stage—Then I acknowledge my sin and did not hide my iniquity.  I said, I will confess my transgressions to the Lord and you forgave the guilt of my sin.  Selah. And the pause is offered again, moving the psalmist and the reader to reflect on how all can pray to God in distress. In that turning to God the floods will not overwhelm.  God will be a hiding place, preserving us and surrounding us with glad shouts of deliverance.  Selah.  Then the psalm continues by telling us not to be like a mule in need of bridling. Be open to instruction and counsel. Be glad in God and rejoice, shout for joy. 

What is it that makes us Happy? How can Lent be a time for rejoicing?  Well, this Psalm about confession and the little word Selah give us a clue.  We acknowledge our sin, confess, and we are forgiven.  We pause, we rest, we trust in God.  We take time to breathe into the grace of God that surrounds, preserves and hides us. 

The late Dr. F.E. Marsh was preaching about the importance of confession of sin and, wherever possible, restitution for wrong done to others. After the service a young man, came up to him with a troubled look on his face. “Pastor,” he explained, “you have put me in a sad fix. I have wronged another and I am ashamed to confess it or to try to put it right. You see, I am a boat builder and the man I work for is an unbeliever. I have talked to him often about Christ and urged him to come and hear you preach, but he scoffs and ridicules it all. Now, I have been guilty of something that, if I should acknowledge it to him, will ruin my testimony forever.”

He explained that he was building a boat for himself in his own yard. In this work expensive copper nails are used because they do not rust. The young man had been pocketing the nails  to use on his own boat. He knew it was stealing, but he tried to ease his conscience be telling himself that the master had so many he would never miss them and besides he was not being paid all that he thought he deserved. But this sermon had brought him to face the fact that he was just a common thief, for whose dishonest actions there was no excuse.

“But,” said he, “I cannot go to my boss and tell him what I have done or offer to pay for those I have used and return the rest. If I do, he will think I am just a hypocrite. And yet those copper mails are digging into my conscience and I know I shall never have peace until I put this matter right.”

For weeks the struggle went on. Then one night he came to Dr. Marsh and said, “I’ve settled for the copper nails and my conscience is clear at last.”

“What happened?” asked the pastor.

“Oh,” he answered, “My boss looked at me a bit odd, then said, ‘George, I always did think you were just a hypocrite, but now I begin to feel there’s something in this Christianity after all. Any religion that would make a dishonest workman come back and confess that he had been stealing copper nails and offer to settle for them, must be worth having.’”

Dr. Marsh asked if he might use the story and was granted permission. Sometime afterwards, he told it in another city. The next day a lady came up and said, “Doctor, I have had ‘copper nails’ on my conscience too.” “Surely, you are not a boat builder!” “No, but I am a book-lover and I have stolen a number of books from a friend of mine who gets far more that I could ever afford. I decided last night I must get rid of the ‘copper nails,’ so I took them all back to her today and confessed my sin. I can’t tell you how relieved I am. She forgave me, and God has forgiven me. I am so thankful the ‘copper mails’ are not digging into my conscience anymore.”

Happy are those whose transgressions are forgiven, whose sin is covered.  Amen.

Strict Discipline; 2.16.20; ICCM; Pastor Rebecca Ellenson

Once a long time ago, there was a devout man who thought he wanted to be a monk.  He asked to be accepted as a postulant in a Cistercian Order known for their severe asceticism. He followed the pattern of monastic life, including the manual labor, the seven hours of daily prayer, and even the discipline of strict silence.  After the first year he was invited to meet with the Abbot who reviewed his progress and asked him if he wanted to speak the two words he was allowed to say each year.  The man said, “Food Bad”.  With that the monk shuffled down the unheated stone hallways. The next year, when the Abbot asked him for his two-word comment the would-be monk said with a scowl, “Bed Hard!” The Abbot sent him back to his duties.  When the Abbot summoned him after another year and asked for his two words, he responded, “I Quit.”  “You might as well,” the Abbot replied, “Since you got here, all you’ve done is complain.” 

Christian monasticism originated in the third and fourth centuries, when a group of Christians now known as the desert fathers withdrew from the cities of the Roman Empire to the deserts of Syria and Egypt. They renounced their possessions, their social status, the prospect of marriage and family. They believed that money and their comfortable houses and their lives of general ease were interfering with their friendship with God. So they renounced all those things and went to the desert to fast and live quietly.

When they got there, they were distressed to find that although they had left all those things back in the city, they were now afflicted by thoughts about them–thoughts about loneliness, thoughts about love, thoughts about safety. They were haunted by memories of the fine meals and beautiful homes they had left in Alexandria and plagued by thoughts about how their fellow monk in the hut down the road had a better view and a more comfortable mat. The desert monks had escaped the things themselves, but they had not escaped their own imaginations. And so, they began to retrain their thoughts.

The pattern these desert monks developed for that retraining boils down to three steps – notice, quarantine, and replace. That is: before you can stop thinking a thought, first you must notice it. You must notice that you are indeed stuck in thoughts of anger or lust or envy or gloom. Then, the next step is to intentionally set the thought aside.

Let us say hypothetically that you are totally occupied by thinking about an adult child back home, or a grandchild who’s gone off the rails. It keeps you up at night, your stomach is churning, you roll the thoughts around in your head like marbles, “if only she would listen to me, what he needs to do is…, how can I get in touch with her?”

In this example – you might notice that you are imagining the worst case scenario, then having noticed, you might set the thought aside, maybe just for 10 minutes; you might say–“I’m just not going to think that thought right now, I can come back to it in a half hour if I want to, but for right now, I’m walking away from it.” Notice. Quarantine. And then – step 3 – replace the thought with a prayer. Disciplining of our imaginations is not undertaken simply for the sake of discipline. It is for the sake of truer self-knowledge, and of living more in reality instead of living in distraction, and all of that is in turn for the sake of creating space to attend to God

(This account of desert practice draws on, inter alia, Mary Margaret Funk, Thoughts Matter: The Practice of the Spiritual Life (Continuum, 1988), especially chapter one.)

“You have heard it said, ‘You shall not murder’…But I say to you that if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgment.” “You have heard it said, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’ But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lust has already committed adultery … in his heart”

Jesus sounds somewhat extreme here. What might it mean to take seriously the idea that your thoughts and emotions matter? What if your thoughts and emotions can themselves be sin?

Historical precedent suggests that when you take that notion seriously, you get ridiculed. It was 1976 when then-candidate Jimmy Carter agreed to an ill-fated interview with Playboy magazine.  After the umpteenth question about whether his firmly held Baptist religious convictions would unduly influence his policy decisions in the White House, Carter began opining about grace, and about sin, and he quoted this morning’s Gospel reading:

I try not to commit a deliberate sin. I recognize that I’m going to do it anyhow, because I’m human and I’m tempted. And Christ set some almost impossible standards for us. Christ said, ‘I tell you that anyone who looks on a woman with lust has in his heart already committed adultery.’ I’ve looked on a lot of women with lust. I’ve committed adultery in my heart many times. This is something that God recognizes I will do–and I have done it–and God forgives me for it.

Carter had a big lead before this interview, but when choice quotations leaked to the press, even before the interview was published, he dropped 15 points in the polls. Evangelicals and feminists were, for different reasons, horrified that Carter had spoken to Playboy in the first place, and everyone else, especially Northerners mocked him for his piety and his lame attempt to sound like he was connecting with the common man by admitting the lust in his heart.

Political cartoonists had a field day. Instead of making him seem like an average Joe, the governor’s comments about lust and adultery actually reinforced people’s opinion that Carter was way too pious and way too priggish and took Jesus way too seriously – I mean, really, confessing that you have lustful thoughts as though it were a sin – a serious sin, on par with actually having an affair? Please.

Surely, we are not supposed to take these hyperbolic and demanding things Jesus is saying about murder and lust and false witness at face value. Surely it cannot be that thinking a mean thought about someone is the equivalent of murdering her. Surely our thoughts–the thoughts we keep to ourselves and never even speak of, much less act on—surely those thoughts are less important than our actions. And in addition to being less important than actions, surely also thoughts are less controllable than actions: I can prevent myself from sleeping with someone besides my spouse, but I can’t reasonably be held responsible for daydreaming about doing so.

Jesus, and Jimmy Carter – and I pair the two together in the least partisan way possible – Jesus and Jimmy Carter seem to suggest something different.

Underneath the specifics of murder and adultery and bearing false witness, Jesus seems to be suggesting that we are capable of disciplining our thoughts, at least as capable as we are of disciplining our bodies; and Jesus seems to be suggesting that what happens in our thoughts and imaginations matters.

Perhaps today’s Gospel passage is inviting each of us to give up a thought. Consider renouncing the anxiety about family members back home. Consider renouncing the jealous thoughts about the person with more health or wealth or whatever. Renounce those thoughts, because Jesus told us that they are the equivalent of murder and theft. Renounce them to make a different kind of space in your brain for God, for charity, for love, for whatever wonderful thing you might uncover when you set aside the anger and the anxiety and the envy.

I don’t know how this renouncing will work out for you, but I want you to try it before you toss it aside on the pile we all keep, that pile called “things Jesus says to do but we know no one possibly could.”

Our thoughts about our fears or anger are really just expressions of another underlying belief: that we are alone, that our lives are not enough, that we know best. Those thoughts – those alone thoughts, those isolate-from-my-neighbors thoughts – those thoughts are the opposite of Christianity because in the Christian faith we love one another and we have brothers and sisters and we don’t isolate ourselves. For Christians, the kind of isolation that follows from our fearful, self-pitying, self-justifying, or judgmental thinking is frankly just not allowed.

The hardest thing about Jesus’ words in today’s passage is not that they set a high standard, or that they feel moralistic. The hardest thing about these words is that they are simple – so simple as to feel threatening and strange. Jesus is simply telling us that it is not just our good deeds but even our thoughts that somehow contribute to the Kingdom of God. To think a loving thought is to bring about the Kingdom of God, and to think an angry thought is not.

This seems mysterious to me – It seems as mysterious as God sending Jesus to show us the way. It seems as mysterious as God reaching out and making a community from outsiders, as mysterious as the sending of the Spirit to teach us and lead us in holiness. It seems as mysterious as God feeding us the bread and cup, and making us his body, and giving us his peace. Amen.

Matthew 5: 13-20; “We are Salt and Light” ICCM; Pastor Rebecca Ellenson

Let us pray.  Most loving God, you show us yourself in the body—the body of Christ.  You show us yourself in Jesus, our brother, our friend, our servant, our savior.  We want to see you more clearly.  Most loving God, you show yourself to us in the body of Christ, it the flesh, in each other, and in ourselves.  You identify us as your body in the world.  We want to see ourselves more clearly, as Salt and Light.  Amen.

Who are we?  We answer that question in many ways.  When asked who I am I usually answer with my name or one of my roles. I am Rebecca, or I am a pastor, or Steve’s wife, or Cora and Kelsey and Peter’s mom. 

Today we look at one of the ways Jesus described his followers.  The bible uses a variety of images to describe us.  We are the Body of Christ. 

In today’s gospel Jesus was seated by the Sea of Galilee, teaching the crowds.  He was a body, flesh and blood, a man who knew and felt all that we are.  Jesus was certainly more than just the one who died on the cross though.  He was also the living, serving, teaching, laughing, loving, growing body—the friend of Mary and Martha, of James and John. 

And even that is not all.  He is also the risen body, the one who rose from death victorious and promises us that resurrection life too. The one who sent the Spirit to lead us into all knowledge.  When we say we are the Body of Christ we proclaim that we are connected to all of that.  We are joined to Christ in life and death and resurrection.  There is nothing that we experience that is far away from God. 

We’ve been reading from Paul’s letter to the Corinthians.  In chapter12, verses13-27 is the main place where he describes who we are using the image of Christ’s body.  It answers the question, who are we? with a collective answer.  We are part of the whole, we are part of the living changing organism that is the church.  Each part is important.  Not only are we connected to Christ, we are connected to each other and serve as little Christ’s to each other and together we, the church, serve as Christ to the world.  God is counting on us to be his body. 

Images are helpful.  They help us to understand things that mere words cannot.  In the sermon on the mount Jesus calls us the salt of the earth and the light of the world.  He says, This is what we are, not what we will be or what we are supposed to be.   It is what we are. 

Today these are common, ordinary, inexpensive items.  In Jesus’ day they were not common or ordinary or cheap. 

Salt is essential for life.  Without it our bodies stop functioning.  We are literally salt, blood and bodily fluids are salty.  So, this image tells us we are absolutely necessary.  The church is needed for the life and the health of the world, just as salt is needed for life.  Even in our modern sophisticated world, what is perhaps the most common treatment in a hospital—Intravenous saline?  

Salt was especially valuable in biblical times.  Today we buy it for a few cents, or get it for free in fast food stores.  We have so much that some of us limit our salt intake for health reasons.  But in Jesus’ day it was mined.  It was not as pure as it is today.  Salt was mined or derived from natural sources, like sea water.  Purified salt was so valuable, in fact, that it was used in many religious ceremonies.  It was used as currency.  People were often paid in salt—hence the word salary.

Last year Steve and I went to the city of Comala in the Mexican State of Colima for a few days.  There we bought sea salt, naturally harvested and prized for its excellent quality.  I thought salt was salt—I grew up on the Morton Salt, the one in the round box with the girl with an umbrella on it.  But I discovered that there’s salt, and then there’s SALT!  I gained a new appreciation for this image of who we are in Christ.

Salt is useful, as a preservative, a purifier, an antiseptic.  Jesus says we are salt, that which heals, cleanses, saves, preserves. 

Salt also, obviously, adds flavor.  If I pour salt in water, the two mingle together and the salt permeates the liquid.  Once it is added to food the food is changed and the salt cannot be removed or separated.   Salt adds flavor to the whole dish.  On the shelf in the kitchen it cannot affect a dish’s flavor.  It has to be added.  As salt, we can permeate the world and improve its character.

Light is everywhere these days.  At the flip of a switch or the striking of a match we can illumine our lives.  Not so in Jesus’ day.  Little lamps filled with costly oils gave the only produced light.  The sun and the moon and the stars were the only other source of light.  It’s hard to even imagine such a dark world.  Maybe we can experience that in some remote places, like the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness, or the far reaches of the Quetico, or in the middle of the ocean, but today we have nearly the opposite experience.  Like salt, even a tiny bit of light can completely change its environment. 

Light gives hope; everything seems scarier in the dark.  Light can expose what we fear and make it manageable.  As the church we bring the light of hope to others.  Light makes things understandable.  As the people of God our presence can do the same for another.  Light can be beautiful, it can give sparkle, even to a rock.  We can bring out the sparkle in the world, exposing for others the beauty in them and around them.  Light gives safety.  When life is dangerous the church can offer a refuge and a safe place. 

Who are we?  We are the body of Christ.  We may feel fear or loneliness or a lack of purpose.  We may not feel worthy.  But Jesus says we are the salt of the earth and the light of the world.  He does not say we can be these things or that we should be.  We are.  We are valuable, useful, essential.  We add health, flavor, hope, beauty, and safety to the world.  We do not do this all by ourselves.  We do it as the community of God.  The Body whose members are all important parts of the whole. 

Let us pray.  You have named us and claimed us as Salt and Light.  Send us out like rays of light or grains of salt to bring you into all the world.  Amen.

What Does God Want?  2.2.20; ICCM; Pastor Rebecca Ellenson

One of my favorite classes in Seminary was called Old Testament Pericopes.  A pericope is a selected passage of scripture assigned to be read on one of the Sundays of the church year. Dr. Frank Benz taught the class. We were assigned a passage of the Hebrew Scriptures to translate for each class.  Dr. Benz taught us so much more than Hebrew verb forms. He taught us how to read the texts for preaching. 

• He said, the first thing is always to pray for God to open the text to us, to guide our minds and to be with us as we study.
• Next, read the text, silently, then aloud, then in another translation or a bible story book.  
• Then for those of us in Seminary the next step was to make a translation of the text from the Hebrew—paying special attention to the key words, any irregularities or unusual words. 
• Context comes next—identify what time period it was written in—what was happening then, who wrote it, in what style—is it poetry, wisdom literature, prophecy, or is it a story?
• Only after that part of the study could we turn to what others wrote about the text. 
• At last we were to reflect on it, what might God have been saying to the original writer, his audience, What about other hearers of the text?  How would Jesus or Paul have understood a text by Micah from the 8^th Century BC?  What might God be saying to me now, to my congregation? 
• And finally we were to pray again—thanking God for the opportunity to learn. 

Today’s text from the prophet Micah was one of those pericopes in Dr. Benz’s class.  The Old Testament is difficult for many people to study. It can be overwhelming to bridge the cultural gap of 2800 years.  But, it’s worth the effort.  Today’s text speaks a word of blessing to the people of Micah’s time even as he recounts the many blessings of God throughout their past.  Long before the time that the prophet Micah lived, God made a covenant with the people –a sort of contract for a permanent relationship.  Simply put it went like this– I will be your God and you will be my people.  Or put another way– I am the Lord your God, you shall have no other God’s before me.  God promised to provide all they needed and more.  The role of the people was to worship God and accept God’s gifts. 

God was faithful to the covenant– God brought them out of Egypt, freed them from slavery, sent leaders and prophets, blessed them when they deserved curses, gave them safe passage through deserts and against attacking enemies.  “Remember all of that” God says through the prophet Micah, “and know the saving acts of the Lord.”  

God is NOT saying…see all I have done for you…shame on you for forgetting…boy, oh, boy, do you ever owe me now!

With God there is no tallying up.  Micah lists all the blessings granted to the people in order to show that God’s love knows no end.  God’s love will never stop.  God is saying–come back to me so I can love you some more! 

Micah’s message is written in a specific pattern.  It is a metaphor of sorts.  This passage is staged as a sort of court case between God and the people.  In this lawsuit God is the one who has been cheated on, wronged.  Yet it is God who calls the partner back, not to get a payback or to punish but to love some more.

It is hard for anyone to imagine such love.  We live under covenants of our own, even if we don’t call them covenants.  Marriage is one of the best examples.  On a wedding day promises are made to live in good relationship, to share and give and love through whatever comes.  The promises reflect the ideal arrangement.  Even in the best marriages though, the love is not perfect or pure. 

The parent/child relationship is another sort of covenant.  If we have children, we take on the responsibility of loving and caring for them.  But, no matter how good the intentions, no parent can love perfectly.  As children we are born into a relationship over which we have no control.  We can accept the love given us.  We can respond with our own love.  But no child loves perfectly either.  It is hard to imagine such unconditional love.

The imaginary defendant in today’s pericope cannot imagine the depth or length of God’s love.  Instead of hearing God’s words as an invitation back into God’s loving care, as an offer of more free gifts, the defendant expects punishment and asks what penalty will be demanded for faithlessness. 

The defendant starts modestly enough.  How about a burnt offering, a calf, perhaps.  No, it must be more?  It’s kind of like—how badly did I screw up?  Do I have to get flowers and chocolate?  How about a thousand rams, or ten thousand rivers of oil?  That would still not be enough?  What about my firstborn child? In ancient times other nations offered child sacrifices.  Is that what you require from your faithless covenant partner?  All the questions hold the message: nothing I can offer will be enough so what do you want from me? 

How easy it is to turn the marvelous grace of God into a list of dos and don’ts, the invitation to blessing into a challenge for good works. The response from the prophet, the one who brought this whole courtroom scene to order is to bang the gavel and say. “God has told you what is good, O mortal, and what God requires of you– do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with your God.  Those are three ways of saying–keep the covenant–be God’s people–trust God’s love and live in that grace.  Just open yourself to God’s love.  That’s all.  Live touched and transformed by grace day after day and let that lead you to live a life of blessing.

Today’s text is a recap of what God wants for us—It’s like one of those things we should be sure to focus on because it so beautifully summarizes the story of God and God’s people.  God reaches out, calls us by name, invites us into covenant, and then fixes our messes when we fall away, over and over again…  We don’t earn our way into God’s grace by sacrifices- we live in God’s grace by humbly aligning ourselves with justice, kindness.

Justice is one of the key words in this passage.  It is a central theme of biblical life. Justice is identified with the very nature of God.  It is a transformative virtue that restores community while balancing personal and common good.  In our Modern Western Culture we tend to think of Justice more in terms of judgements, laws, punishment for wrongdoing, or vindication for victims.  Justice in the conventional wisdom of the world is when people get what they’ve got coming to them.  Fairness.  But that’s just a tiny bit of what the Hebrew word means. 

In the Old Testament there are three basic types of justice—Commutative justice—which focuses on the relationships of people within a community.  The law wasn’t separated from the community—justice had to work for all the people.  The second kind of justice is distributive justice—which ensured the equitable distribution of resources, goods, benefits and burdens.  There is no justice without sharing—without equity, without mutual suffering and benefit.  And finally, the third understanding is what we call social justice—the work of justice that means systems of oppression need to change. 

What does the Lord require—that we do justice.  It can seem daunting—How do we know where to start?  Well, we can start by asking how Jesus did justice.  What did he say in the gospel—he announces what it is to be blessed—to live in God’s kingdom. He’s not telling people to be blessed, he’s saying they are already.  He pronounces a blessing to all the people who have come to hear him. His blessing invites them to think differently about the way the world works because of what he says.

This was a new teaching. In the ancient world, just like today, many people believed strongly in cause and effect. They believed that if they were good people who followed God’s commandments, worked hard, and tried to do their best in all circumstances, then God would reward them with good health, food to eat, stable jobs, happy families, and prosperity. Likewise, they believed that God punished the sinful with illness, poverty, imprisonment, blindness, divorce, and other personal tragedy. Many believed that God even punished entire sinful populations through war, famine, droughts, and other disasters.

If a man was sick, or mourning, or poor in spirit, or starving, or persecuted, it was his own fault for sinning. A woman who suffered did so as the consequence of her own bad behavior because suffering was understood as punishment for sin.

But Jesus flips things on their head.  It doesn’t work like that in the kingdom of God. Jesus blesses everyone who had gathered, no matter who they were and no matter what they had done. God’s blessing in Christ is not just for the righteous ones. God’s blessing is not just for certain religious groups, or certain genders, or certain sexual orientations, or certain cultural or racial groups. God’s blessing is not just for those who are pure, who go to church and give to charities and treat people with kindness. And God’s blessing is not evidenced by a big bank account or a fancy title or a luxury home.

In this new kingdom that Jesus is showing us, God blesses the saints and sinners alike. Jesus offers a blessing on the poor in wallet and the poor in spirit. He blesses the blind, the lame, the imprisoned, the outcast. He blesses the leper and the prostitute. He blesses the murderer and the thief and the adulterer. He blesses the Jews and the Gentiles.  Today who would he bless? the Muslims and the Hindus, the Buddhists and the Ba’hai, the Mexicans and the Canadians, the Syrians and the Russians, the people of Ghana and Brazil. In Christ, God’s blessing does not discriminate. God’s blessing is for all. God’s blessing is for you. God’s blessing is for me.

That’s good news, don’t you think?  It’s commutative and distributive and social justice.  It means that no matter who you are or what you have done, you are blessed and you are welcomed into God’s family, and there is nothing you can do, ever, to lose God’s love, affirmation, and blessing.

Blessed is our identity, blessed is our condition, blessed is who we are because of God’s saving love shown in Jesus Christ.  So in this first teaching for his followers, his disciples, in his first teaching for you and for me, Jesus is telling us as clearly as he can that these people—”look around you,” he says to his disciples—these people in the crowd that gathered that day near the shores of the Galilean lake—these people who drive loud razors under your window at night, these people who whose political views differ from ours, these people who are in jail for dealing drugs, these people who got pregnant out of wedlock and now want an abortion, these people who are members of a gang, these people who are members of a white supremacist group, these people who sit in judgment, these people who carry guns, these people who are crazy feminists, these people who are pro-life, these people who are pro-choice. . .well, you get the idea. Jesus his telling his disciples that ALL THESE PEOPLE are blessed.

And we who call ourselves disciples, followers of Jesus Christ, get to not just understand this, but we get to live it out by our words and our actions. What does the Lord require—to do justice, to love kindness to walk humbly with God.  We are blessed and we can be a blessing to others.

1.26.20; One in Christ; Epiphany 3A; Pastor Rebecca  Ellenson; ICCM

The story goes… A young rabbi found a serious problem in his new congregation. During the Friday service, half the congregation stood for the prayers and half remained seated, and each side shouted at the other, insisting that theirs was the true tradition. Nothing the rabbi said or did moved toward solving the impasse.

Finally, in desperation, the young rabbi sought out the synagogue’s 99-year-old founder. He met the old rabbi in the nursing home and poured out his troubles. “So tell me,” he pleaded, “was it the tradition for the congregation to stand during the prayers?”

“No,” answered the old rabbi.

“Ah,” responded the younger man, “then it was the tradition to sit during the prayers?”

“No,” answered the old rabbi.

“Well,” the young rabbi responded, “what we have is complete chaos! Half the people stand and shout, and the other half sit and scream.”

“Ah,” said the old man, “that was the tradition.”

When two or more are gathered, factions lurk in the midst of them, as Paul discovered. One of my best friends is a professional interim ministry, specializing in resolving conflict in congregations. It isn’t my cup of tea! There are steps to follow, profiles to complete, interviews to take, goals to establish. It’s a serious business.

Jesus didn’t seem to worry about any of it. When he said, “Follow me,” he apparently wasn’t concerned that these followers might not turn out to be model disciples. Indeed, they were often dense and hard to teach, and on the rare occasions when they did understand him they would usually try to talk him out of his ideas. They squabbled about who was greatest. One of them betrayed him. And no one stuck around when the going got tough.

Jesus simply said, “Follow me,” and something in the way he said it pointed to God so clearly that two, then four, then 12 decided that whatever Jesus had to offer was worth leaving their old lives for. And as far as Jesus was concerned, their willingness to get up and follow was credentials enough. He would make his community out of this diverse, contentious dozen.

Of course, Jesus had to live with this makeshift community of disciples for only three years. And whenever they wandered off course, he was right there to set them straight. The real problems began when he was gone, and they had to make decisions for the long haul. How do we admit the gentiles? What about those who teach a different gospel? Who is really in charge? Do we have to make a break with Judaism? The apostles held meetings, drew lots and trusted in the Holy Spirit’s lead. The infant church grew.

The Acts of the Apostles tells the story of that initial stage of the church.  In the early 40’s Paul stayed with Priscilla and Aquila in Corinth, fellow handworkers. They lived in the small factory-shops alongside the other laborers. It was from that hardworking pagan community that Paul’s first converts were made.  They were tough, poor, uncouth people. 

When Paul tried to preach to the Jews in the synagogues he usually got thrown out.  But in Corinth he was somewhat successful with that crowd, at least among the God worshippers.  They were people who were not Jewish by birth but Gentiles who attached themselves by varying degrees to a synagogue. Paul converted a wealthy God-worshipper named Gaius Titius Justus, and a synagogue patron Crispus.  By the time he wrote his letters to the church in Corinth 10 years later, there was another Jewish patron, Sosthenes. 

The original poor, pagan, laborer converts were eating meals with the high-status wealthy people and their households. Ancient society was marked by great wealth disparity. The top 1.5% has over 20% of the resources, the next 10% consumed another 20%, leaving the bottom part of society living in constant hunger.

Spiritual gifts like speaking in tongues factored into the disarray too- as they were apparently praying so enthusiastically that their clothing would get disheveled and offend others’ sense of propriety.  Some were shaming their spouses publicly, others were bringing lavish meals and gorging themselves while others were left hungry.  It was a mess.

The congregation quarreled about class divisions, ethical issues and the qualifications for spiritual leadership, not to mention such daily concerns as what foods to eat. Paul struggled to get them back in agreement, offering specific advice when necessary. Most of all, though, he tried to knit them back together into a whole. They didn’t have Jesus’ physical presence with them. They themselves had to be the body of Christ now. The only way they could manage was to keep their eyes on the cross and love, love, love.

You are the people who walked in darkness and have seen a great light! You are the saved, the ransomed, baptized in the Lord Jesus! Don’t overshadow the glory of the gospel with divisions and quarrels!

“You are the light of the world,” Jesus told his followers. Unfortunately, the church doesn’t always act like the light of the world. There’s nothing quite like a church fight.  We all know of places and times where conflicts split churches. But there are also moments when the fractures heal and the light shines through, times when together we accomplish far more than we could ever have managed alone. There are times, between and within our congregations, when we are truly more than the sum of our parts. The Spirit breathes through us and warms the darkening world. The light of Christ breaks forth like the dawn. We are caught up in some power beyond our individual selves, and we become the Body we are meant to be. 

It’s only normal to label and draw boundaries.  In childhood we form our identities by doing so—these are my people, my family, my tribe, my sect, my place.  I am a Minnesotan of Norwegian descent, I am white, I am educated, I am Christian.  We learn the power of naming and then we learn its perils.  This sorting and separating is as old as humanity itself.  Look at how strongly the naming part of the story figures in Genesis 2 and 3.  It’s part of human development to name and claim our identity—the rub comes when we name one kind as blessed and elect while others become by default, pagan or savage, deluded or damned.  

One of the real beauties of this congregation is the fact that we come from all over and we are used to certain ways of doing things wherever home has been.  Here, we get to sing unfamiliar songs that are someone elses’ favorite one week and sing our own favorite songs another week.  We focus on Christ—not on our particular doctrinal backgrounds.  It’s a real treat to be here leading this very diverse congregation.

It’s quite liberating to not have a strict doctrinal standard here.  Some sophisticated believers whose approach to faith incorporates astute thinking about psychology, theology, history or philosophy have room to grow when it comes to the practices of compassion and generosity. Others who approach faith more simply and from the heart have room to grow when it comes to depth in thinking critically.  Some see faith as getting things right intellectually, others see faith as submission and surrender.  The ways we read the scriptures differ, our views on Communion or Baptism may vary slightly.  That’s ok.

Paul’s message was the same, in Ephesus, in Philippi, in Galatia and in Corinth:  we are neither Jews nor Greeks, male nor female, slaves nor free, rich nor poor.  We are all God’s children and heirs to the kingdom, sharing as we do a kinship of gifts, neither earned nor deserved, but ours all the same. No matter who we are or where we come from, no matter where we are in the journey of faith, we are all welcome.  Praise be to God.

Let us pray,  O great Love, thank you for living and loving in us and through us.  May all that we do flow from our deep connection with you and all beings.  Help us become a community that vulnerably shares each other’s burdens and the weight of glory.  Listen to our hearts’ longing for the healing of our world.  Knowing you are hearing us better than we are speaking, we offer these prayers in Jesus’ name. amen.

Called;  January 19, 2020; ICCM; Pastor Rebecca Ellenson

I never met my husband’s grandfather, John Rautio.  But I’ve heard a lot about him. He lived to be over 100. He wore a shirt and tie to the dinner table every day of his life. He was married for the second time in his 80s after his first wife died.  He traveled to Mexico in his later years. By ethnicity he was a Finn.  By vocation he was a carpenter in Ely, MN.  What he was remembered for most was his sense of humor. 

In case you don’t know, Finnish humor is a bit of an acquired taste.  Evidently, he liked to say things like, Come again when you can’t stay so long, Here’s your hat, what’s your hurry?  He was always ready to hire good helpers in his carpentry shop—especially young men with lots of experience, he would say with a wink.  His saying that’s in my mind today, though, has a certain ring of truth.  We are too soon old, and too late smart. He’s someone I would have liked to meet.  He wasn’t an important person by any of the world’s measures. But he left a legacy of a strong work ethic, a quirky sense of humor, a patient quiet presence, and a respectful demeanor.   

Gathering the wisdom we have accumulated in our lives to share with those who go on after us is one of the important tasks of the last part of life. If we can glean the smart part from the too soon old and too late smart and make sense of our experiences then we move from just smart to wise.  The life work of our last years also includes mending rifts or broken relationships. Another task is to grow closer to God, letting go of the strivings of the ego. 

Our lessons for today simply drip with the theme of God’s call and claim on life. We are meant for lives of purpose and intention.  God’s gifts are given to us for our own fulfilment yes, but also for the world’s good and for the glory of God. 

Listen again:  You are a polished arrow—you are not just a plain stick but you are made for a purpose.  You are a sharp sword—a thing of value and craftsmanship.  You are hidden away in the hand of God—to be used by God.  You are God’s servant, to give glory to God. You are a light to the nations.  You are my chosen.  You are called, sanctified saints, enriched in Christ, in speech and knowledge of every kind. You are strengthened, not lacking any spiritual gift. 

Our identity in Christ is not just hinted at or promised, it is not dependent on how much we do, on getting it right.  It’s right there—before we were born—all the way to the end.  The message is redundant, repeated over and over so we get it!  We are who we are. The trick is to live into that calling. 

Vocation is often a theme we think belongs to the young or those in mid-life.  What are we going to do with this one wild precious life?  Yet the questions of the third stage of life include those of purpose and calling too.  Those who are blessed to reach retirement and the elder part of life are also empowered. We are strengthened in Christ, we are purposeful instruments in the hand of God. 

Parker Palmer wrote an essay a few years ago, just before his 78^th birthday called, Withering into the Truth.  The title comes from a poem by William Butler Yeats.

Though leaves are many, the root is one;
Through all the lying days of my youth
I swayed my leaves and flowers in the sun,
Now may I wither into the truth.

He started out by saying , When friends say they don’t know what to give me for my birthday, I always respond with the same tired old joke they’ve heard from me before, which causes them to sigh, roll their eyes, and change the subject. (Here’s a perk that comes with age: repeat yourself so often that folks think you’re getting dotty, when in fact you’re fending off unwanted conversations.)

Q: What do you give a man who has everything?

A: Penicillin.

Palmer says he doesn’t need gifts of a material nature.  Instead he offers his gleanings of wisdom about living nearly 8 decades as a gift for others.  He begins,

The Yeats poem at the head of this column names something I don’t want to forget. Actively embracing aging gives me a chance to move beyond “the lying days of my youth” and “wither into the truth” — if I resist the temptation to Botox my withering.

My youthful “lies” weren’t intentional. I just didn’t know enough about myself, the world, and the relation of the two to tell the truth. So, what I said on those subjects came from my ego, a notorious liar. Coming to terms with the soul-truth of who I am — of my complex and often confusing mix of darkness and light — has required my ego to shrivel up. Nothing shrivels a person better than age: that’s what all those wrinkles are about!

Whatever truthfulness I’ve achieved on this score comes not from a spiritual practice, but from having my ego so broken down and composted by life that eventually I had to yield and say, “OK, I get it. I’m way less than perfect.” I envy folks who come to personal truth via spiritual discipline: I call them “contemplatives by intention.” Me, I’m a contemplative by catastrophe.

To find our wisdom, to age well, involves letting our ego shrivel.  Interesting.  When we talk about our calling, our gifts, our vocation—we can easily move into the territory of the ego.  I can do this! I feel called to that.  The ego is an important driver for us in our working lives—pushing us on to achieve and accomplish. 

My dad was sharing with me on the phone this last week about a group he attends each week at his church called Caring and Sharing. He commented on how accomplished most of the men in the group were in their careers, doctors, lawyers, professors, CEO’s.  He said, “They’re PIPs, Previously Important People.” His gentle laugh spoke volumes. My dad himself accomplished all kinds of things in his working life.  But his legacy is his positive attitude, his supportive and gentle manner, his tender heart full of emotion, and his simple trusting faith. What really matters in the end but loving others, growing closer to God and meeting the needs around us?

St Augustine said we were here to love God and enjoy life.  Kurt Vonnegut believed we are here to be the eyes and conscience of God.  Karl Jung, standing on the silent African veldt at dawn, watching the drifting rivers of animals moving in their timeless way, wrote that we are here to bring consciousness to brute being. 

It’s so nice to be at a place in life when we don’t have to prove anything to anyone anymore.  We are free to love, to grow close to God and to serve those around us. There are so many needs.  Holly has tickets for the Hearts of Hospice Dance on February 15^th.  The tickets support the work of Hospice Mazatlan, a group that served over 160 families last year—160 families facing the death of a loved one with social services for family members, palliative care, counseling for the bereaved and so much more. 

Last Saturday I was at the Organic market buying a pot holder from the organization called Floreser.  It is a home for teenage girls who have been victims of abuse and violence. It is the only one of its kind in Sinaloa, and one of the few in the country. Its mission is to provide the girls with a place where they feel safe and can grow with their dignity intact. In Floreser, the girls continue with their studies, receive individual therapy, and are provided with outlets allowing them to develop to their full potential while living a healthy life full of possibilities. depends upon your continued help.

The woman selling the hand sewn items told me about her new-found purpose in life.  She volunteers at the home and wakes up each day knowing that her contributions are important. She saw a need, knew she had gifts to share, and was overwhelmed with feelings of the joy of service.  It just bubbled out of her.  Not an “important” person, but a gifted one, equipped and strengthened for service.

We find our purpose by looking around us to identify the greatest needs and how they fit with our skill set and our particular God-given gifts.  Vincent Van Gogh once said Great things are done by a series of small things brought together.”  Even if you’re only here in Mazatlan for a few weeks or a month or two your input can make a difference and bring a better future for others.  It can make a difference in your own life too. 

Annie Dillard said, the way we spend our days is the way we spend our lives.  Jesus asked the disciples who came to follow him:  What are you looking for?  Come and See—he invited them.  We are invited likewise—come and see what God has planned for you.  Claim your identity as God’s chosen ones, strengthened and empowered for service, enriched in every way.  

Beloved; Matthew 3: 13-17; ICCM; Pastor Rebecca Ellenson; 1/12/20

John and Jesus were cousins.  When Mary found out she was expecting a child she went to her relative Elizabeth who was pregnant with John.  In today’s gospel those babies are all grown up.  John has been out baptizing and preaching about the coming of someone greater than he who will fulfill the expectations of the prophets. 

I wonder what family stories the two of them grew up with. Did their mothers tell their sons about the dreams foretold their birth? Did they share the songs they had sung about them?  Did Joseph tell Jesus about his dream that told him to name him Jesus because he would save the people from their sins? 

Jesus embraced his own purpose and shaped the goals of all the others around him. Joseph’s life purpose had little to do with carpentry.  It was raising the child called Emmanuel–God with us, that gave his life meaning.  It was the same for Mary, of course.  John’s purpose had to do with Jesus too. He was out there in the Jordan wilderness, dressed in camel’s hair and leather, eating honey and chapulines—locusts.  John prepared the way for his cousin, by preaching change and calling people to repentance. 

When Jesus came to John it didn’t fit with John’s own identity—You should baptize me—he protested.  All his life John had heard that Jesus would be the more important one.  But notice what Jesus did—he said No—This is how it is!  John had a vital role to play too.  Jesus needed John’s service and he validated his cousin’s life work.  Then—the heaven’s opened for Jesus and Jesus saw the Spirit descending like a dove and landing on him.  A voice proclaimed, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased!”   What an impact that must have made on Jesus!  Through the Holy Spirit he was able to see his status as God’s child, the Beloved, with whom God is pleased! 

Our identity rests in God’s relentless tenderness for us. We, too, can define ourselves radically, as those beloved by God. That is our true self. Every other identity is illusion.  It’s not just Jesus who has a life purpose, or a proclaimed identity as God’s beloved child.

In John’s gospel Jesus prepares his disciples for his leaving, the night before his death by promising that God will send the Spirit to empower them to do his work.  Jesus says, Very truly, I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and in fact, will do greater works than these! As the Father is in me so I am in you.  The Spirit of truth abides in you and will be in you! The Spirit will teach you everything.  Those are daunting worlds, until we claim them and live in them.  There is purpose in each of our lives, in each of our days. When we open ourselves to the Spirit’s presence we are led and empowered.  

Paul says in 1 Corinthians 2: 9-10, God has prepared things for those who love him that no eye has seen, no ear has heard, or that haven’t crossed the mind of any human being. God has revealed these things to us through the Spirit. The Spirit searches everything, including the depth of God. This is huge!

I believe my life purpose is about serving the poor.  I’ve only spent 17 years of my working as a pastor, so far.  I was ordained when I was 29. Then 11 years later I left parish ministry. As a newly single mother, I knew deep in my heart, that my first purpose was to be the best mother I could be to my children who needed me more than ever.  I found other work for 12 years. I went from preaching about serving the poor—to serving the poor directly. 

For over 8 of those years I led a company that helped people with mental illness, chemical dependencies, lack of education, or criminal histories find work.  It was a secular agency—but I knew the work was ministry.  Our clients needed to find their purpose; identify their gifts, talents, and passions; and they needed to believe in their own agency, their own abilities and value.  One of the biggest challenges s had to do with self-image.  Many of them had internalized the messages they had heard- “You’ll never amount to anything. Who would hire you?  Why bother even trying—you don’t even have a high school education?  You’re going to be just like your father.” So many self-fulfilling prophecies stood like brick walls in their way. 

Changing what we believe about ourselves changes what we can do. To find success our clients needed to visualize themselves having already achieved bigger dreams than they had aspired to before.  It was totally amazing to see them find hope and reach toward new dreams.

We all carry lies in our souls that can become our truth and shape our reality.  Retirement can bring its own identity challenges.  We may think we are too old, too shy, too bold, too tired. Or we may believe we are not smart enough, not secure enough, not adequate in some way.    

Listen to the prophet’s Isaiah’s words: Here is my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen , in whom my soul delights , in whom I have put my Spirit, who will bring forth justice… The prophet’s words were claimed by and for Jesus.  The spirit descended on him and he was empowered to serve, yes. But listen:

Thus says God, who created all things, who gives breathe to the people and spirit to those who walk on earth—I am the Lord, I have called you in righteousness, I have taken you by the hand and kept you. I have given YOU as a covenant to the people… to open the eyes that are blind, to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon! 

Those words are given for all who walk the earth, all you breathe!

Paul says the same thing- God gives various gifts. God’s purpose is to equip God’s people for the work of serving and building up until we ALL reach the unity of faith and knowledge of God’s Son.  God’s goal is for us to become mature adults, to be fully grown, measured by the standard of the fullness of Christ! Wow!

The purpose of being a Christian is not to go to church.  I heard someone quote Joyce Myers the other day. Evidently, she says that sitting in a garage doesn’t make you a car any more than sitting in church makes you a Christian. Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’m very glad to see each and every one of you here today.  I hope you invite a friend to come with you next week. I think coming to church is important.  But God’s purpose for us is to use our various gifts to equip people, to serve and build and mature until we grow into the fullness of Christ! 

We discover our purpose and direction through a connection with the Holy Spirit.  That’s what happened in our gospel today.  There in the Jordan the heavens opened, and Jesus saw the spirit descending like a dove and alighting on him.  He was open to more than he could ask for or imagine. He was touched by God’s claim on his life, he accepted the call and continued until he finished what he was sent to do.

We see this pattern not just in Jesus’ life but in the lives of nearly all the people in the biblical story.  Jacob wrestled with God on the riverbank.  In his dream there he climbed a ladder with God at the top.  The heavens opened, so to speak, and he heard God’s claim on his life.  The voice said, Know that I am with you and will keep you wherever you go, and I will bring you back, for I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you. Jacob became Israel there.  With his new identity he pledged his life to God and through him God accomplished what was meant to be.

Moses, in his encounter with the divine before the burning bush, was called to lead a people out of slavery—of course he protested, Who am I?  What gifts do I have for such an audacious task?  But God’s claim was on him.  Moses had seen the greatest need around him, the bondage and destruction of a whole people.  And it happened, he led them to freedom.

Saul, a Jewish persecutor of the early Christians, received a calling on the road to Damascus.  The heavens opened, so to speak.  Saul became Paul the evangelist to the Gentiles.  In Galatians 1 he describes himself as an apostle who is not sent from human authority or commissioned through human agency, but sent through Jesus Christ and God the Father who raised him from the dead.”  How did he know?  He didn’t read it in the Bible or learn it in Seminary. He went to Jerusalem with Barnabas and Titus 14 years later, and because of a revelation, he found his mission.  He never met Jesus—it came through the Spirit’s working.

Steve and I had a chance to get to know Peter and Melinda Gebraad better last week over dinner one night.  They are the founders of Gems of Mazatlan, a Canadian charity that distributes tax deductible donations to 6 of the orphanages in Mazatlan, including the Salvation Army Children’s Home, whose residents sing here for us each year during Advent.  For Pete and Melinda the heavens opened, so to speak, when they met the SACH kids in 2014 and fell in love with them.  They weren’t looking for a life purpose, but they found one.  They never dreamed this would become their passion and give such meaning to life. 

Their careers allow them to work remotely and devote 6 months a year to improving the lives of children through stabilizing the facilities and systems in the various orphanages here.  They saw a need, identified how to meet the need, and used their own gifts to further the mission given to them.  Those three steps are vital to figuring out a life purpose. 

Pete works as a pyrotechnician, producing shows as big as the Olympics.  Pyrotechnics is not his mission.  But the skills and talents he used in that work, organizing, publicizing, recruiting, managing—are put to use, now, in the service of the orphans of Mazatlan.  Melinda works as an accountant—but that’s not her life mission.  She uses those skills though in the financial management of the charity they founded. 

I listed a website in the bulletin today: beyondbeaches.ca  It includes a directory of charities that are looking for volunteers.  If you’ve got time to give and the skills to fix things, or mow grass, or make sandwiches, or give rides, or hold the hand of a child who has to go the dentist for the first time—they can hook you up.  Who knows how the Spirit will work in your life.

The Spirit equips us for service and calls us to serve.  It’s through our God-given talents that we are built up into mature Christians, fully grown and measured by the standard of the fullness of Christ.  It doesn’t have to be showy or public.  There’s all kinds of quiet ministry and service going on too.

My prayer for each of you is the same as Paul’s prayer.  Now to the one who by the power at work within us, is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine, to that One—to God, be the glory in the church, now, and through all generations!

Open yourselves to the Spirit’s power. Let the heavens open and hear the words “Beloved” “Child of God” “The one with whom God is pleased.” Amen

ICCM; January 5, 2020; Pastor Rebecca Ellenson; Epiphany

I’ve been thinking about two of Mary Oliver’s poems.  The first is called The Summer Day, it’s closing lines go like this:

I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

What am I, what are you going to do with this one wild precious life?  At first it seems like a question for a young person setting out in life—choosing a career, establishing an identity, achieving goals. After all, we here have all done something with our life already.  We are a bunch of retired people living the dream.  We get to spend our winters in Mazatlan, savoring the sights and sounds of life here, the waves, the sunsets, the flowers, birds, and geckos and the colors and the music.  Most of us know how to be idle and blessed to stroll on the beach if not the fields.  But the question remains, What is it that each of us plans to do with the rest of this our one wild, precious life?

It is the first Sunday of a new year, and of a new decade. It’s a good time for a sort of assessment.  One of my extended family members just retired.  She has always been highly organized and goal oriented.  For years now she’s lived by the ideas outlined in the book Younger Next Year.  Throughout her very successful career she utilized the principles of Jim Collins’ book Good to Great, where he encourages leaders to figure out their Big Hairy Audacious Goals.  Now in retirement she’s using the Blue Zone principles to make her annual goals. 

Perhaps you’ve heard of the Blue Zones—researchers have found 5 places where people regularly live into their 100’s with good health.  The Mountainous highlands of inner Sardinia, A Greek Island that also has one of the world’s lowest rates of dementia, the Nicoya Peninsula in Costa Rica, a Seventh Day Adventist community in Loma Linda, California, and Okinawa Japan.  I’ve looked at the 9 principles the researchers discovered that are common to these varied groups. 

1.They move naturally instead of joining gyms or running races.  2. They have a life plan. They know their purpose. This alone can add 7 years to your life.  3.  They have routines that shed stress including prayer, rituals, happy hour, or napping.  4.  They stop eating when they are 80% full and eat their bigger meal mid-day or in early evening and do not eat after that.  5. Their diets are mostly plant based.  6. Those who consume alcohol do so in small amounts, drinking with friends or family and with food. 7.They belong to a faith-based community. Attending services can add 4-14 years to your life. 8. They put their families first. 9 Finally they live in social circles that support healthy behaviors. 

That sounds like a great recipe for living the dream. Participating here in this worshiping community, knowing our purpose, prayer patterns, that’s 3 out of 9 blue zone practices right off the bat. Many of us move more naturally here than we do at home too—walking instead of driving.  Many of us are involved in some kind of service—at the Salvation Army Children’s Home, at the Quilting Shop, making sandwiches for the residents of the Dump, organizing Christmas hampers, giving rides to church, caring for our friends and neighbors, giving to the work of this Blue Church.   

I took a little test online related to the Blue Zones after hearing about her annual review and planning.  According to the test, I’ve got about 35 more years of this wild precious life to fill with purpose and meaning.  Wow!  That’s a lot of time.  Many of you have less time than that. But, as long as our hearts are beating, God has a purpose for our lives.  We are not here to Live The Dream in the usual sense of that phrase.  Retirement, as seen through faith, is not just about strolling on the beach, improving our golf score, or learning to paint—those are some of my favorite things to do, by the way, I’m not suggesting we quit those things.  The answer to the question of what we’re going to do with what remains of this one wild precious life will differ for each of us. 

I recently heard the inspiring life story of a centenarian named Dr. Leila Denmark.  She was born in 1898 in Portal Georgia.  She originally trained to be a teacher and only decided to attend medical school when her fiancé was posted overseas by the US State Department and no wives were allowed to accompany their spouses to that post. She was the only woman in her medical school graduating class in 1928.  She started treating children that year, evidently inviting each next patient to the examining room by saying, “Who’s the next little angel in my waiting room?” 

Denmark devoted a substantial amount of her professional time to charity and was an active member of a Baptist church, even while working at a hospital, baby clinic and in her own private practice.  So many of her patients were dying of Whooping Cough that she conducted research in the diagnosis and treatment of the disease, eventually creating the vaccine that protects us all.  She was an author, finishing her last book in the year 2002 at the age of 103, the same year she retired, because her eyesight was getting too weak for more involved tasks, such as examining children’s throats. Dr. Leila Denmark was one of the first doctors to suggest not smoking around children, and the importance of a healthy diet.  She died in 2012 at the age of 114 and 2 months.  In think she exemplified all 9 of the Blue Zone Principles. 

Now, I’m not suggesting that we all need to be like Dr. Denmark.  The story is told of Zusha, the great Chassidic master, who lay crying on his deathbed. His students asked him, “Rebbe, why are you so sad? After all the mitzvahs and good deeds you have done, you will surely get a great reward in heaven!”

“I’m afraid!” said Zusha. “Because when I get to heaven, I know God’s not going to ask me ‘Why weren’t you more like Moses?’ or ‘Why weren’t you more like King David?’ But I’m afraid that God will ask ‘Zusha, why weren’t you more like Zusha?’ And then what will I say?!”

Living God’s dream for us means identifying our individual life’s purpose, sharing in healthy community, and service to others.  Jeremiah 29: 11 says, For surely I know the plans I have for you, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope. 

In a minute we’ll be singing the words of a 1960’s folk song based on a Christmas poem by Howard Thurman, “I am the light of the world, you people come and follow me, if you follow and love you’ll learn the mystery of what you were meant to do and be.” John 20: 21 gives us the same message in Jesus’ words—As the Father has sent me, so I send you. 

We are not meant to retire to idleness.  Psalm 71: 17-21 explains it perfectly:

God you taught me when I was a child, and I am still proclaiming your marvels.

I am old, and now my hair is gray.  O God, do not forsake me; let me live to tell the next generation about your greatness and power, about your heavenly justice, O God.  You have done great things.  Who, O God is like you?  I have felt misery and hardship, but you will give me life again.  You will pull me up again from the depths of the earth, prolong my old age, and once more comfort me. 

I grew up with excellent role models.  About 10 years ago, my mother was voted into the City of Moorhead’s Hall of Fame.  In her acceptance speech she said, “I learned that all of us want to do well, but if we do not also do good in our community or in the world, then doing well will never be enough. I’ve learned how important it is to give back, especially for those of us who have been so richly blessed.” 

I started with a part of a poem by Mary Oliver.  I want to close with another, in When Death Comes she wrote:

When it’s over, I want to say: all my life

I was a bride married to amazement.

I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it’s over, I don’t want to wonder

if I have made of my life something particular, and real.

I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened,

or full of argument.

I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.

Amen.

Dec 29, 2019; ICCM; Matthew 2: 13-25; Pastor Rebecca Ellenson

It’s only 4 days after Christmas, that silent holy night where all is calm, and all is bright, with the holy infant, tender and mild, sleeping in heavenly peace.  Already we’re listening to a tale of violence, threats and a close escape to a foreign land.  Matthew uses journeys, prophecies and dreams to move the story along.  The gospel moves quickly from the genealogy of Jesus, to a brief mention that Jesus was born and named, to the visit of the wise men, and then to the Holy Family’s flight to Egypt in order to escape a mad king’s fearful rage. 

Herod practiced Judaism even if the religious elite of the day would not have considered him a Jew. He was elected by the Roman Senate in about 36 BC.  He claimed the title King of the Jews for himself even though he was just Rome’s lapdog. To mask his powerless puppet status, he went on a building binge of tombs, temples, fortresses and palaces… all supported by outrageous taxes that ground the common people into the dust. 

When the wise men appeared looking for a child born to be “king of the Jews” Herod’s fear and deceit kicked into high gear.  Herod used the wise men as pawns in a plot to eliminate this new king.  Then when realized that the magi have double crossed him, his instinct to preserve his power at all costs accelerated even more. He knew the approximate date of the child’s birth thanks to the magi’s calculations, and so he ordered the extermination of all children born “in and around Bethlehem.”  Given the size of Bethlehem and the birth rates and so forth, scholars think that about 20 toddlers would have been killed. 

Herod’s reputation for brutality was well known.  Even before the slaughter of the innocents, his vices had the makings of a grisly A&E mini-series. He murdered his wife Marianne, her mother Alexandra, his eldest son, and two other sons. 

Matthew draws his mostly Jewish audience’s attention to the striking parallel between the execution of the Holy Innocents by Herod and the male infants killed in the first Passover at the hands of Pharaoh the night before the Exodus.  Herod is presented as a new Pharaoh. Both rulers lashed out with great malice but also in vain. Both Pharaoh and Herod brought about devastating losses of life, yet both ultimately failed to prevent the birth of a powerful leader of Israel. Both Moses and Jesus were born under the threat of death; both were protected.

Matthew firmly placed Jesus’ story as part of a continuous history of the salvation of the Jews.  An angel appeared in a second dream to Joseph telling him to flee and head into exile. This geographical detour of the holy family as refugees in Egypt is shown as a fulfillment of a prophecy originally focused on the people of Israel. Matthew’s portrays Jesus as the embodiment of the people of Israel. He is the recipient, bearer, and fulfillment of the promises made to Israel by God.

Matthew doesn’t tell us anything about Jesus’ years lived in exile in Egypt. Instead, he quickly returns Jesus to his hometown, as promised once again by scripture.  Another angel appears to Joseph in a dream, announcing the death of Herod.  The coast is clear for the family to return home to Bethlehem of Judea.  Then, yet another dream warns him that Herod’s son, Archelaus, now rules in Judea.  So, the family makes its new home in Nazareth in Galilee. For the third time, Matthew points to a prophetic promise: “He will be called a Nazarene.”

Matthew reassures the readers that everything is transpiring according to God’s plan. In this gospel God directs the holy family at every juncture. And, even more important, every move they make has scriptural significance: Bethlehem in Mic. 5:2; Egypt in Hos. 11:1; Galilee in Isa. 9:1; and Nazareth in . . . well, actually, no one’s sure just where that reference to Nazareth is found, but Matthew thinks it must be in “the prophets” somewhere.

After leading the reader to believe that Jesus would be one before whom kings of the earth would either kneel or tremble, Matthew now reveals that Jesus is to be identified with helpless, and vulnerable people of this world. In time, this will include his followers, who, like him will be pursued from town to town.

The forced travels of Jesus and his family provide a powerful symbol for all the refugees and oppressed people of the earth. A terrible reality of life is that a great many people in many parts of the world are simply at the mercy of political tyrants or unpredictable forces of nature that determine where, when, how, and whether they will live. Our Gospel lesson for today, tells us that Jesus himself was one of these dispossessed ones. 

Potential doom looms over these early chapters of Matthew. Jesus’ welcome to the world is not all choirs of angels and awestruck shepherds.  It is also fear that this child would subvert the order of the world, that a mere child would weaken the powerful.

The arbitrariness of Herod would have been entirely familiar to ancient people living under Rome’s long imperial shadow. The narrative of these threats upon Jesus’ life bristles with authenticity –for such tyranny was well known to ancient peoples. Matthew’s trust in God’s providence emerges not from a simplistic expectation but from a faith that expects God to reign in a world where the dominance of the powerful seems unchangeable. 

Let’s look at it like this…The Gospels are not only concerned with spreading the joy of Jesus Christ (which I assure you they are). They are also given to us to explain the truth.  You and I all know that the truth is not always a pretty thing. Matthew is not worried about our holiday spirit as much as he is about showing us truth.  The sad truth is that tyrannical powers threaten the poor and powerless in every generation.  Syrians, Rohingans, Latin Americans, South Sudanese, the list is endless.

The whole point of Christmas is to give hope, even to tragedies like the Holy Innocents…..I’m going to say that again…. The whole point of Christmas is to give hope even to tragedies like this. It is to say to those suffering, in pain, “fear not, for I bring you tidings of great joy – a Savior is born!” When we start thinking in these terms it makes sense that we celebrate the Feast of the Holy Innocents in the Christmas Season. For we no longer have NO hope…We have a Savior. We have Jesus Christ…We now have hope! We now have nothing to fear!

The world is a hard place…. and like Herod it will try to silence the Good News of Jesus Christ. The harshness of this world will try to distract us and make us doubt. The world will bring each of us trouble and heartache. And certainly, we witness and work against oppression and injustice.  Each one of us carry heartache….Our own burdens. Our own anguish in our hearts….But now…We can “fear not”.

Rather than letting the harshness of this world turn us away from Jesus, let us rely on Christ as the Savior through all our suffering, brokenness and heartbreak. For the promise of his birth, now fulfilled, shows God’s faithfulness in all the promises of forgiveness.

Whatever tragedy you face, whatever cause for weeping and mourning, whatever great sadness or guilt or pain you bring here today…Or, will face tomorrow – find hope in Christ. Find forgiveness and blessing. Look forward in faith and trust in a God who always keeps promises… “Fear not”.

The Holy Innocents were among the first martyrs of the Church.  There have been many more. Jesus himself suffered a horrible and cruel death, later because of a different Herod.  The harsh reality, is if we separate the Incarnation from the Crucifixion, we don’t fully get Christmas…Or, Christianity for that matter.  Christ’s resurrection from suffering and death becomes our resurrection from the cold dark grave of despair… Jesus was delivered, and so are we.

May whatever heartache you carry, give way to Christmas joy, as you find hope and comfort in the Christ who was born for you. Who rose for you…And…Who is a present for you……………Fear Not!