The First Sunday in Lent - February 17

Our Creed:  God With Us
Deuteronomy 26:1-11

If you think about it, the Old Testament reading appointed for today may seem a bit odd for the first Sunday in Lent. It is celebratory and full of thanksgiving for the gift of the Promised Land. But it comes right after the people of Israel have spent 40 years in the wilderness. Today’s Gospel is about Jesus’ 40 days in the wilderness. That is the connection.

The reading from Deuteronomy describes a worship service that became an annual event in the lives of the early Hebrew people. The celebration of the Feast of Weeks, a summer harvest festival, filled with thanksgiving for the bounty of the Promised Land.

And Deuteronomy includes specific instructions for a creed that the people were to recite at this worship service.

A wandering Aramean was my ancestor; he went down into Egypt and lived there as an alien, few in number, and there he became a great nation, mighty and populous. When the Egyptians treated us harshly and afflicted us, by imposing hard labor on us, we cried to the Lord, the God of our ancestors; the Lord heard our voice and saw our affliction, our toil, and our oppression. The Lord brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm, with a terrifying display of power, and with signs and wonders; and he brought us into this place and gave us this land, a land flowing with milk and honey. So now I bring the first of the fruit of the ground that you, O Lord have given me.

Biblical scholars call this a creed, although it may sound different from the creeds you are used to. The things we call creeds, like the Nicene Creed, are theological statements of belief. This creed is expressed in terms of experience, of history, rather than theology. It speaks of what God does. And it describes a very specific history. Jacob is the wandering Aramean and God’s liberation of the people is the Exodus. As a creed, rather than saying, “I believe in God who brings liberation to people,” it says, “the Lord brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand.” Both of these statements speak of the same God with the same attributes, but the Deuteronomic creed describes that God in terms of actions within history. Both affirm a God who liberates people from bondage, but Deuteronomy expresses that belief, that creed in language that is concrete and personal.

How might we recite a similar creed? A creed based on historical experience rather than theological belief?

I had fun thinking about how my personal creed might go: A wandering Norwegian was my ancestor. And he left his homeland to come to South Dakota, a land definitely not flowing with milk and honey. But you, Lord, were with him and helped him persevere to build a new life in this new land. God was there in a historical event.

This is my personal story, and we are sometimes encouraged, as Christians, to write our personal spiritual autobiographies. It’s a helpful process… to look for those specific events in your individual life in which you felt God was present. Each of us has our own individual story, as unique as we are different as individuals. But the Deuteronomic creed is not an individual creed; it is a peoples’ creed.

So, if we were to write our common creed as Episcopalians, it might begin: A bawdy king was my ancestor (Henry VIII). He was faithful, but coveted power. But you, O Lord, heard the people of his realm who called out for reform and you came to them, guiding and inspiring them for the renewal of your church.

Or if we were to write our creed as Christians, as part of the great and glorious Body of Christ, how might it go? Peter was my ancestor. The faithful bumbler. Or Paul. The firebrand and converter. The disciples are our ancestors… You came to be with them, to share their lives, to share our lives. You were with us to feed us when we were hungry; you were with us to teach us and to help us when we were in doubt; you were with us to touch us when we needed healing. Those stories in Scripture are our stories, our history, of God with us.

Every Sunday we say the Nicene Creed, a theological affirmation of our belief. We also hear a historical creed like the Deuteronomic one, an affirmation of God’s presence and action in our history, in the Eucharistic prayer. It is more than a formula of consecration of bread and wine, it is a description of shared sacred history. As you hear that prayer today, think of the “us” as the people of this congregation. We are the people created by God in his image. We are the ones with whom he broke bread. We are the people saved by his death. This historical events are the events of our salvation.

And, remember, our story of God with us, God saving and healing us, does not end with the last supper. It is an ongoing story of God’s life shared with ours. Whenever two or three are gathered—every time since Jesus resurrection—God has been with us. For the early Hebrews, the primary story of history was the power of the God’s hand saving his people in the Exodus. That is our story, too, but for us as Christians, the primary story of God with us is the intimacy of Communion. God sharing our lives with us and inviting us to share God’s life with him.

But in the historic events that tell of God’s presence with us continue after the Last Supper. There are the early councils, the Reformation, the establishment of the American church, the founding of this parish. All of these are events in a history that speaks to “God with us.”

 God with us. Not somebody else. Us.

This is our story, the history of our experience of God. In the plural. This our common story. I find that powerful and reassuring… to think of this as a common history of which I am a part. It’s much bigger than me. This history is full of all those events experienced by thousands of Christians who knew that God was with them. That’s the story. That’s the creed. Which means that even on the days when your belief is in tatters, God is still with us. God is with us. That’s the story that our history tells. Even on the days when you cannot imagine God anywhere near you, we have innumerable stories from our Christian history of events when God is with us.

God is with us. God is with us. That is our creed… the experience of our history. God is with us.

Ash Wednesday - February 13

You Are Not Dust

This may seem like a bit of a stretch on Ash Wednesday, but bear with me. I enjoy one of the new sets of Geiko commercials. These are the “happier than” commercials. There is a standard format. A couple of entertainers ask one another, “How happy are people who switch to Geiko?” “Happier than…”

How happy are people who save money by switching to Geiko? Happier than a body builder directing traffic. And if you remember that one, he’s a very well-sculpted body builder, doing body builder poses in the middle of the street as he directs traffic.

How happy are people who switch to Geiko? Happier than Christopher Columbus with speed boats.

Or my favorite—I think it’s the newest one. How happy are people who switch to Geiko? Happier than a slinky on an escalator.

In each of these ads, people (or a personified slinky) are placed in situations tailor made to appeal to them because of some individual skill or interest or quirk. The situation is specifically imagined to be a perfect fit, bringing happiness or fulfillment.

It was this Ash Wednesday service that got me thinking about this. Why do people come to this service, this Ash Wednesday service? People do come. My sense is people have a strong internal motivation to come to this service. It is an important service. Within the parish I’ve urged people to come. But It’s more than that. And, why? The service is a downer with its emphasis on mortality, sinfulness, human insignifance. Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return.

So if this service were a Geiko commercial, for whom would it be a perfect fit? It seems tailor made for someone with really low self-esteem. Come to church on Ash Wednesday and have your extremely poor sense of self-worth affirmed and reinforced by the church. You are dust!

How happy are people who switch to Geiko? Happier than people with low self-esteem attending church on Ash Wednesday.

I say this not out of insensitivity to people who do struggle with self image, nor just to be funny. But to emphasize that it is the perception that the point of this service is to bring us down. To bring us soberly to a place of despair and emptiness. And it works. The service works. Even on the most sanguine of Christians. Even the most normally cheerful and confident are brought to dust.

And, as someone who has preached at this service many times, I can attest that, within the context of this service, it is very easy to tap into that place within all of us, no matter what your prevailing psychological disposition may be. It's easy to tap into that place where each of us is aware of the weight and insignificance of our mortality. And for some reason there is something attractive about going to that place for all of us. I think that is what draws us to this service. It feels significant to face our insignificance. It feels spiritually noble to acknowledge our mortality.

But I think we may have it all wrong. I think Ash Wednesday is not primarily about affirming our wretchedness. I think the value and purpose of this service does not lie in bringing us to the place where we can feel our mortality. In fact today is not primarily about us at all. It’s about God.

This day is an important reminder, an in-your-face sort of day. But it is a reminder more about who God is than who we are not.

God… the God we know and worship is a God who can and does create light in the midst of total darkness. God is a God who can and does create life (life!) out of clay—or dust. And not just life. Life that is filled with meaning and beauty and wonder and courage and joy. The God whom we know and worship longs for and builds reconciliation from the broken pieces of human sin and hope from despair. God takes our mortal hearts and makes them new!

There is a General Thanksgiving prayer in the back of the Prayer Book. I refer to it fairly often; many of you know it. In one phrase of that prayer, we thank God for those disappointments and failures that lead us to acknowledge our dependence upon God alone. That’s a good prayer for Ash Wednesday. A prayer of thanksgiving that this day leads us to acknowledge our dependence upon God alone.

Yes, without God we are but dust. We do have to start there. And it’s easy for us in our daily lives to forget that piece. But the primary message of Ash Wednesday is not so much about us spiritually wallowing in the dust as it is about acknowledging the difference between dust and what we are. Only and wholly by God’s grace. We are not dust.

By God’s grace, we are not dust. That’s the thing to remember. By God’s grace alone, but by God’s grace, we are not dust.

Ash Wednesday is about gratitude. Humble, but joyous gratitude. Today, this Lent reflect upon the difference between dust and the life you’ve been given. And turn to God in humble and joyous gratitude.

Last Sunday after the Epiphany - February 10

Lent and Different Learning Styles
 Luke 9:28-36

We just heard the story of the transfiguration, Jesus’ transfiguration. This event has its own feast day on the calendar August 6, but we also always read one of the Gospel accounts of the transfiguration on this last Sunday after the Epiphany. I found myself wondering this year what this story offers to us on this particular Sunday in the calendar. Why do we hear it on this day every year?

It is, of course, an epiphany story. And along with the story of Jesus’ baptism it probably stands as the ultimate epiphany story. Stories about seeing or recognizing the glory of God in the person of Jesus. In both stories God’s voice from heaven booms out proclaiming Jesus’ as God’s own. And we always hear the story of Jesus’ baptism on the first Sunday after the Epiphany. So it makes sense to bracket Epiphany season with these two powerful Epiphany stories.

But this Sunday is not just about Epiphany. In the old Prayer Book, it was one of the “gesima’s.” Quinquagesima Sunday, to be precise. The gesima Sundays were sort of a pre-Lent, anticipating the Lenten journey towards Holy Week and Easter. So are we looking forward or backward today?

To help me get a sense of the significance of the transfiguration story I looked at its broader context in Luke.

The passages before today’s reading include the confession of Peter, when Peter names Jesus as God’s Messiah. Then there is a short teaching piece from Jesus where, speaking of himself, he tells how the Son of Man will be killed and then raised. Those who lose their life for my sake will save it. Follow me to the Kingdom of God where the Son of Man will come to his glory and the glory of the Father and of the holy angels.

It’s all about the Kingdom, he seems to be saying. I’m talking about the Kingdom of God!

After today’s reading, there’s a short story illustrating (again!) the disciples’ denseness and then Luke says: “When the days drew near for him to be taken up, he set his face to go to Jerusalem.”

The journey to Jerusalem and the cross is the journey to the Kingdom of God.

The Lenten journey is the journey to the Kingdom of God.

It’s all about the Kingdom of God…. Jesus coming to his glory in the Kingdom of God and the invitation to the disciples to follow him to the Kingdom. It’s all about the Kingdom.

This is the message Jesus is trying to get across in this portion of Luke. And as I read Luke, it occurred to me that Jesus gets his message across in multiple ways that will be effective for people with different learning styles.

This is definitely not my field, but as I understand one component of current educational theory is the idea that different people learn in different ways. Some people take in and absorb new information visually, others aurally, some with physical movement (kinesthetically). There are also verbal learners, logical learners, social learners and solitary learners.

In trying to convey his message about the Kingdom of God, Jesus hit at least the first three. First he told the disciples, that should have registered with aural learners. Then he walked them up the mountain. That should have connected the kinesthetic learners. Then he was transfigured. He showed them the kingdom. And if everyone didn’t get that, certainly the visual learners should have.

I’m not really suggesting that God or Jesus works within the parameters of our contemporary educational theory. God reveals God’s self throughout our world, in many ways, through many media. God’s self-revelation is everywhere, but different people are going to perceive that revelation in different ways.

In what places, or what activities are you most aware of God? What is your learning style when it comes to God’s revelation or teaching?

All of which brings be back to the Kingdom of God and Lent.

The Lenten journey that lies just ahead of us is the journey towards Jerusalem and, Jesus tells us, the Kingdom of God. Undertaking a Lenten discipline helps with that journey. If you would like help getting to the Kingdom of God, pick some Lenten discipline. (If you really don’t think you need any help, well, then, you can disregard Lent.)

But pick a Lenten discipline that works for you. It’s not about the church imposing some particular discipline. For those of us who don’t eat much meat to start with, giving up red meat on Fridays really doesn’t mean much. It’s about you looking for help that will be meaningful for you. Where do you find God?

The Lutheran preacher David Lose reminds us that most people keep their daily lives and their faith lives pretty separate. But the road to the Kingdom is in our daily lives. A Lenten discipline is a way of finding the Kingdom road in our daily lives.

Where do you find God? Do more of that. The Lutheran liturgy for Ash Wednesday instructs people during Lent to resist anything that draws you away from the love of God or neighbor. Do less of those sorts of things.

Taking on a discipline just for discipline’s sake is good, even if it is not a particularly meaningful fit for you. Any discipline that, directly or indirectly, makes you mindful of God is helpful. But Lent is an opportunity for more. Maybe you have something you “always” do for Lent. Is it working? Is it bringing you closer to the Kingdom? Maybe you’ve never done anything before. Now is the time.

Every year I publish the guide “Lent for Dummies.” Pick one up. Read it from start to finish. These are words that are helpful to me: Give up something or some practice in your life that squanders life’s goodness or wastes life’s giftedness. Give up whatever you do to “kill time.” Or, to cast that in the positive, take on whatever you do that cherishes life’s goodness, celebrates life’s giftedness. Sanctifies time… in your life.

It contains specific suggestions for different ways to pray. And various resources for reflection. Prayer and reflection are traditional Lenten practices, but they may not be the most effective for everyone. The “Join the Journey through Lent” poster is good because it has a variety of activities. It probably hits all seven learning styles each week. Lent Madness is fun for families and a great tie in to youth worship. The Cowley fathers are offering a daily video on prayer this year.

One final note: Alms-giving is one of the traditional practices of Lent. And particularly if your discipline is one that results in saving you money (and giving up Starbucks would save many of you quite a bit of money), put that money aside and give it away to the church or some other organization that does “kingdom work.”

It’s all about the Kingdom. We’ve been invited in. The Lenten road, following Jesus, is the way.

Fourth Sunday after the Epiphany - February 3

For the People of Nazareth, Too
Luke 4:21-30

The Gospel reading we heard this morning is a direct continuation of the story we heard last Sunday. Jesus has come to his hometown of Nazareth and gone to the synagogue on the Sabbath, as was his custom. He stands up to read from the Scriptures and reads these words from Isaiah:

 “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 Lords favor.”

He sits down. The eyes of all of those people in Nazareth are upon him. People he’s grown up with, neighbors, people who know his family. Then he says, “Today this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.” The Lord has anointed me.

This is where today’s reading picks up. Jesus’ reading gets a mixed response. At first people seem awed, moved perhaps by their awareness of the Spirit of the Lord within Jesus. Amazed at the possibility that this man might be the Messiah. But then some people, at least, appear skeptical. This man? Really? Jesus? The kid down the street? Think about names and faces of people you knew in childhood. Could you seriously accept the idea that somebody you grew up with could be God’s Son? I can sympathize with the skepticism of the people in Nazareth.

We cherish our connections to people who grew up to become famous… sports stars, entertainers, politicians. But this is a different world. Jesus himself suggesting that he is God’s anointed. In Mark and Matthew’s telling of this event, it is clear that Jesus could do no acts of power in Nazareth, and Matthew states that it is the peoples’ unbelief that limits Jesus’ power. Their own familiarity makes them blind to Jesus identity and shields them from his grace and power.

But there is another dynamic here as well. Before coming to Nazareth, Jesus has healed and cast out demons in Capernaum. And the people of Nazareth know of his deeds in Capernaum.

Writing about this passage, Fred Craddock (Interpretation Commentary on Luke) says: “The problem however, lies far deeper than blind familiarity. If the people of Nazareth assumed privileges for themselves, that error is joined to a more serious one: resentment that Jesus has taken God’s favor to others beyond Nazareth, especially Capernaum, said to have had a heavy non-Jewish population.”

Not only has Jesus taken God’s favor, God’s healing power, to people outside his own hometown, he has taken it to people who are not his own people. And then, to justify or explain his actions, he quotes Scripture to the people of Nazareth. He quotes to them their own Scriptures, the very familiar stories of Elijah and Elisha bringing God’s favor to non-Jews. Elijah, who helped the widow from Sidon and Elisha, who healed Naaman, the Syrian.

Craddock, again, “The war is between Judaism and its own Scriptures.” Between the Jews in Nazareth and the witness of their own tradition, their own Scriptures. Not only does Jesus not buy into their own biases against non-Jews, outsiders, he points out to them that those biases are non-Jewish, not supported by their own Scriptures.

This passage is about how viciously angry and defensive people can be when forced to look in the mirror at themselves. They try to kill Jesus rather than face the truth about themselves.

Quoting Craddock’s commentary again: “Luke’s point throughout Luke-Acts is that Israel should have understood and embraced Jesus’ message. Israel knew of God’s grace towards all peoples as early as the covenant with Abraham (Gen. 22:18; Acts 3:25). And Jonah stands forever as the dramatic embodiment of that capacity in all of us, Jew and Christian alike, to be offended by God’s grace to all those of whom we do not approve. The reason I did want to preach to Ninevites, said Jonah to God, was “I knew that thou art a gracious God and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love” (Jonah 4:3).”

Jonah, and the people of Nazareth, embody that capacity in all of us “to be offended by God’s grace to all of those of whom we do not approve.”

“The synagogue, now a mob, attempts to stone Jesus. Hurling a person against stones was as acceptable a form of stoning as was hurling the stones against the person. Yet this is far from official procedure; it is angry mob reaction. Even, so, it foreshadows not only the trial and death of Jesus but also the fate of many of his followers. If it foreshadows Israel’s rejection of Jesus and the taking of the message to Gentiles, then it is important to notice that Jesus does not go elsewhere because he is rejected, he is rejected because he goes elsewhere.”

What does all of this mean for us?

1) Those who would exclude some people from the Body of Christ, for whatever reason, should take note. Jesus did not take the Good News to the Gentiles because he was rejected by the Jews in Nazareth. God’s mission of hope and healing to those seen as “other” was not a fall-back plan, some sort of plan B. It was always God’s primary plan. Jesus went to Capernaum and the Gentiles there first. That was what offended the Jews in Nazareth. We are all challenged to beware of out own capacity to “be offended by God’s grace to al of those of whom we do not approve.”

2) The interpretation of Scripture is not easy. It contradicts itself in places. We are challenged to listen to even the parts that do not confirm our biases of who God is or what God should do. The people of Nazareth resisted that challenge. And in the midst of Scripture’s complexities and contradictions, we might do well to place particular emphasis on those passages that Jesus quotes. Passages that stress the expansiveness and inclusiveness of God’s love and power.

3) Jesus died to save the people of Nazareth, too.

Thank God Jesus died to save the people of Nazareth, too.