Saturday, August 20

You Have Been Called By Name--21st Sunday in Ordinary Time (A)

Grace and peace to you from God our rock and redeemer. Amen.

One of my favorite novels of all time is Gilead by Marilyn Robinson. The novel is an extended letter to the very young son of the Rev. John Ames, an elderly Congregationalist minister in Gilead, Iowa. Already an older man when the book is set, the Rev. Ames fears that he might not be around when his son is growing up. The letter is his way of passing along a lifetime of advice to his son—just in case. Ames, himself, is the son and grandson of Congregationalist ministers, one of which was a strict Christian pacifist and the other of which once preached a fiery pro-Civil War sermon in clothes freshly stained with blood from the battlefield.

In the novel, the Rev. Ames recalls a scene from his childhood where several newborn kittens come across his path. Having watched his dad and granddad baptize newborns on several occasions, the young Ames feels it appropriate to baptize these kittens. He treats the kittens very tenderly, pours water on their head, and recites the Trinitarian formula that he has seen his dad and granddad do time and time after again. “You are baptized in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. You are sealed with the cross and claimed for Christ forever.” After tenderly retelling this moment in his childhood, Ames reflects on his years of parish ministry and talks about baptism and blessing. He writes,

There is a reality in blessing, which I take baptism to be, primarily. It doesn’t enhance sacredness, but it acknowledges it, and there is power in that. I have felt it pass through me, so to speak. The sensation is of really knowing a creature, I mean really feeling its mysterious life and your own mysterious life at the same time…Not that you have to be a minister to confer blessing. You are just more likely to find yourself in that position. (Robinson, 23)

Before the apostles were ever told to go out and baptize anybody, Jesus tells them that the Church is built on them. Peter, the screw up that he was, was a less-than-ideal representative for the apostles and for the Church, but that’s the role we see him play all throughout the New Testament. In telling the apostles that he was building the Church on their shoulders, Jesus aptly tells us that the Church is built on our shoulders—on the shoulders of the simple, common folks and that we don’t need to be anything special to be a part of the Church. We don’t need to be ordained and we don’t need to be educated. We don’t need to be particularly faithful and we don’t need to be righteous. We don’t have to be right all of the time—or most of the time, even. We don’t have to always make the best decisions. We don’t have to be marble saints or perfectly painted frescos.

Jesus says that the keys of the kingdom of heaven are given to the apostles and, as a result, they have the power to “bind” and to “loose.” There are some theologies that suggest that Jesus is giving the apostles the exclusive authority to forgive one another and/or to define who is and is not included in the family of God. I don’t much buy into this because it puts too much responsibility on humans. And we have quite the track record of messing things up, don’t we?

No, instead I like to think that Jesus is telling us that we have an even bigger responsibility. The Gospel tells us that we are given the power to loose and bind. Our words carry weight. We can assure one another of the grace given to them in the Christ or we can intimidate others into believing that they are still wrapped up in their sins and subject to the disfavor of God. As humans, this is the power that we have: to proclaim liberty or to proclaim condemnation, to set free or to bind. What a responsibility! Talk about joys and concerns!

Another novel that relates well to this morning’s Gospel is Presbyterian minister Frederick Buechner’s The Final Beast. This novel is also centered on a parish pastor and his congregation with very strong themes of forgiveness and redemption. There is a scene in which a parishioner begs the pastor to declare forgiveness to a woman in the parish who is deeply disturbed because of her past sins, some of which have personally influenced the congregation and the pastor. The pastor replies that the woman knows that he, the pastor, has already forgiven her. The other parishioner replies,

“But she doesn’t know God forgives her. That’s the only power you have, Pastor: to tell her that. Not just that God forgives her for her poor adultery. Tell her that God forgives her for the faces she cannot bear to look at now. Tell her that God forgives her for being lonely and bored, for not being full of joy every day in a household full of children. Tell her that her sin is forgiven whether she knows it or not, that what she wants more than anything else— what we all want—is true. Pastor, what on earth do you think you were ordained for?”

Three simple words are all that it would take to bring this woman back from the dead. Three simple words: God forgives you. This poor woman is living in the death of her sin. Even though the pastor and the congregation have forgiven her, she still seems to think that God bears a grudge against her, probably from past experiences with insecurity, maybe coupled by a few fire-and-brimstone preachers in her past. Her offenses—adultery, amongst others likely—are serious and have made life difficult for more than one person in the parish and the broader community. The guilt of all of this weighs heavily on her shoulders. Even though the rest of the congregation and the pastor have forgiven her, she has no reason to believe that God forgives her. That’s where the pastor must step in. That’s where we, gathered here this morning, also must step in.

Now, Reverend Buechner was writing in a different time and place. Most of us in the mainline Protestant world do not believe that the authority to forgive resides solely in the hands of the ordained minister—even if the religious sense. The final phrase of that congregant’s plea, however, does still resonate with us: “…what on earth do you think you were ordained for?” Ordination, in this case, can be understood differently than Buechner might have understood it in his day.

Ordination is very much wrapped up in the first sacrament—baptism. In baptism, we die and are resurrected with Jesus. We become people of the resurrection, standing boldly and prophetically in a world surrounded by darkness. After we enter the water and come out again, the cross is drawn on our foreheads, sometimes with water and most often with oil, and we are claimed for Christ. This is the most basic sacrament—the one that we all “get”—the one we can all agree on. In fact, the fact that baptism is a sacrament and ordination is not is testament to how much more important baptism is. It’s also good proof that baptism equips us with everything we need to get by in the world. At our baptisms, we were ordained to proclaim liberty to the captives. We are all ordained to the prophetic ministry that Buechner writes about. We are baptized—we are ordained—to declare God’s forgiveness to one another—to “loose” one another and to resist the temptation to “bind,” even and especially when binding is the easiest response.

Ours is a world that lives too much in binary opposition. That binary opposition is only made worse when God is brought into the picture. It’s one thing if I don’t like a person or a group of people. It’s another thing if I say God doesn’t like that person or those people. When Jesus built the Church on our shoulders, he knew that this would be a problem for us. He knew that we would affix his name to the people we dislike. He knew that we would spiritually and physically bind the people we don’t like. He also knew that we were capable of rising above that. He knew that, with the grace of baptism and the love of our neighbor, we could get over our differences and live in communion with all of God’s children: black or white; gay or straight; liberal or conservative.

The cross drawn on our forehead in baptism, the cross that sits on the wall there, the cross that some of us wear around our necks—it is a symbol of God’s forgiveness. I don’t mean that in the sense that some Christians might. I think that there is too much emphasis put on the suffering and the crucifixion and not enough put on the life and resurrection. What I mean is that the cross—the preeminent Roman tool of death and destruction, a symbol of hatred and injustice—has been reclaimed and repurposed as a sign of forgiveness, a sign of life, a sign of love. This is what happens to us in baptism. We are repurposed to bring God’s plan of repurpose to one another—and the cycle continues, as it does with most things in life. We are forgiven and we are then sent out, claimed for Christ, to do likewise. This is the foundation upon which the Christ built his church.

Remember that you are called by name—called by Jesus the Christ, the son of the Living God, not Elijah, not John the Baptist— and given the amazing task of bringing forgiveness to one another. Amen.

Friday, August 19

I love my church.

"I love my church. I love being a Lutheran by birth and by conviction. I love telling people my church encourages cultivation of mind and spirit. I love explaining how we believe God’s children are always simul justus et peccator.[editorial note: Latin for "at the same time a sinner and saint.] I love dropping Luther’s thesis from The Freedom of a Christian: “A Christian is a perfectly free lord of all, subject to none. A Christian is a perfectly bound servant of all, subject to all.” I love being a spiritual descendant of Augustine, Luther, Melanchthon, Bach, Muhlenberg, Kierkegaard, Prenter, Tillich, von Rad, Bonhoeffer, Forde, Marty and many, many others. I love so many things about my church. I just wish to God I could love my church for nurturing and cherishing and intriguing and challenging and forgiving and receiving and sending our young people and the families in which they are raised. But I can’t – because we haven’t. "

That is an excerpt from "Evangelizing Ourselves" by Rev Scott A. Johnson at Nachfolge. Scott is an ELCA pastor with the Lutheran Campus Ministry at Iowa State University. Scott writes about making the denomination--our denomination--a community of faith that has some meaning for young people. Having come back to the ELCA, after romps in the evangelical, Congregationalist, and Roman Catholic worlds, I resonate very much with those reasons to be proud--and I also understand Scott's concern about the fact that the denomination has not done those things well enough. Being a non-traditional young man, I suspect that I'm more familiar with the things that Scott is proud of. Would a normal 20-year old in the pews know and be proud of these things?

For me, being Lutheran means belonging to a tradition that is never stagnant. Being a Lutheran means that I am always reforming, never blindly accepting anything, but always using my conscience and the Gospel to guide my paths.

Grace to you and peace,

+Cody

Wednesday, May 11

Yep




Be back after finals...





Sunday, May 8

Homily--8 May, 2011

A Walk to Emmaus (at least that's what's in the bulletin--"Surprise!" might have been a better title.)

Grace to you and peace from the risen Christ!

Today’s Gospel brings us a strange and often unexplored image of God. In today’s Gospel, we see that our God is a god of surprises. Just when we think we understand something, God upsets the basket and all of the cosmic fruit comes rolling down.

U When the 90-year old Sarah, wife of Abraham, thought that she was barren, God upset the fruit basket and Sarah conceived Isaac.

U When Moses marched up to Pharaoh and demanded freedom for the Hebrew people—just as God told him to do—and thought that he would get it, God upset the fruit basket and hardened Pharaoh’s heart.

U When Joshua and the Hebrew army went to fight the battle of Jericho and Joshua thought that the walls would come down with swords and arrows, God upset the fruit basket and ordered that the walls could only come down by marching and playing the trumpet.

U When Noah thought that he was going to enjoy a nice retirement with his wife, God upset the fruit basket and asked Noah to build an ark to save humanity.

U When Mary thought that she was going to have a nice teenage-engagement to a carpenter named Joseph, God upset the fruit basket and caused Mary to become pregnant without having known Joseph.

U When the Jews living under Roman oppression thought that their messiah would come in the form of a silver-tongued diplomat or an armored war lord, God upset the fruit basket and gave them a country rabbi who preached the radical and inclusive love of God to everybody whom he encountered, sometimes he even used words to do so.

U When the disciples thought that Jesus was going to cast away Mary Magdalene, a woman with a less-than-pure reputation, God upset the fruit basket and Jesus let Mary wash his feet with her hair.

U When the disciples thought that Jesus was going to stay dead and in the tomb, God upset the fruit basket and resurrected Jesus from the dead.

U When the male disciples thought that they were closer to Jesus, God upset the fruit basket and made it so that Mary Magdalene was the first to witness the resurrected Jesus.

U When Cleopas and his wife Mary were walking down the road and encountered a stranger, God upset the fruit basket and caused them to recognize Jesus the risen Christ in the breaking of the bread.

And it is this tradition of surprise that we, as Christians, find ourselves in on this third Sunday following the resurrection of Jesus.

What good is a God who is full of surprises? Why can’t God be forthright and upfront with us?

One of the biggest surprises that I’ve ever received was my beloved station wagon, the sainted thing that it is. It was my sophomore year of high school and I spotted a gorgeous, white station wagon sitting in the car lot on Benson Road. I fell in love the thing and made that known to everybody and anybody who would listen. My dad and I went and test drove the car. He liked it. I liked it. I knew that we had until a set date to decide whether or not we wanted to buy the car before the salesman sold it to another potential buyer. Well, that day had come and I was a friend’s house after school when my dad picked me up. As soon as I was picked up, I asked if we had gotten the car? Slyly, my dad responded, “He already sold it.” Wounded, I wanted to get home and finish homework for school the next day. Rather than turning to go home, we turned down Benson Road and into the parking lot where my—not anybody else’s—station wagon was sitting. I was fitful and said that we were wasting time and that there was no point in looking at the blasted thing since some other schmuck had gotten it. When my dad got out of our car, walked up to the station wagon, and opened it, boy was I surprised! Like the trickster that he was and is, my dad had gotten the car and danced around telling me that we were the ones whom the salesman had sold the car to. As excited as I would have been if he had truthfully answered my question, I was even more excited—and grateful—when the surprise came around.

God surprises us to keep us on our feet, to keep us excited about life. Imagine the disciples, following Jesus’ death. Rather than having Jesus die and pop right off of the cross victoriously, God let Jesus sit in the tomb for three days. Even then, God surprises us. Nobody expected Mary Magdalene, the woman with a reputation, to be the first to witness the resurrected Christ, the apostle to the apostles.

That brings us back to Cleopas and Mary. Rather than letting them recognize Jesus on the road with them, God saved that knowledge as a surprise. When I was surprised with my station wagon, it was in the turning of the key in the door that I knew that the car was ours. With Cleopas and Mary, it was only in the breaking of the bread that Jesus was made known to them.

God didn’t stop surprising people in the days, months, and years following the resurrection. In fact, God still surprises us to this day. We’re all familiar with the UCC’s motto, “God is still speaking.” We could just as easily say, “God is still surprising.” Those of you gathered this morning who have mothered others—whether biologically, spiritually, or otherwise—will likely recognize the God of Surprises in the wonder of life. Watching a child grow, no matter when the child comes in to our lives, is full of surprises. Those of you who are married or partnered will likely agree that marriages or partnerships are filled with surprises. Just when you think you know your partner, the basket is upset and you find out something new about the person you love. Likewise with friendships and colleagues.

The surprises that come out of our various relationships—with our family members, with our church members, with our co-workers, with our neighbors, etc.—keep us excited about life. They keep us on our feet. In a world where complacency is so easy, we need to be surprised every now and again. The eastern churches have a tradition of calling down of the Holy Spirit into something when the subject is blessed. It is in these surprises that God sends God’s Holy Spirit down into our life to set us on fire to bring about God’s reign of justice and peace on the Earth.

Alleluia. Christ is risen. Amen.

(This will be preached to the United Church of Christ in Granite Falls, MN and First Congregational United Church of Christ in Montevideo, MN this week, the 3rd Sunday of Easter and the Festival of the Christian Family/Home.)

Wednesday, May 4

Ten Years of Watching, Waiting, Praying

Like many, I waited up and watched President Obama announce to the world that Osama bin Laden (OBL) was dead at the hands of the United States.

For the first time in years, I felt a small twinge of patriotism. I clearly remember September 11, 2011. I was in my first hour 5th grade reading class when the first of the Twin Towers fell to the hands of hateful and ungodly terrorism.

I think that I'll remember that announcement for my entire life. I also think that I'll remember President Obama's announcement. My Faculty Resident, a Benedictine priest and educator, and I were sitting in his living room, flipping between Fox News and CNN, waiting for President Obama's announcement.

As soon as the president stopped speaking, I was glad. I was glad that the world's most despised terrorist was dead and gone. Loud shouts and blasts came from the commons area of campus. With a group of friends, I left my dorm building and made my way out to the large crowds forming outside. I was initially kind of proud. These guys were outside singing patriotic songs, running around, and laughing--celebrating the end of an ephoch--for most of us from fifth grade to the end of the second year of undergraduate work.

By the time that I got out to the group, a mob had formed. Pictures of Osama bin Laden were being burned in effigy. Fireworks were being set off and firecrackers were being thrown from windows. Curses were flying, condemnations were being made. I became afraid. It was mobs like this that gave way to the Ku Klux Klan--angry white men with a superiority complex--and I wanted no part in that. The mob eventually ran into the surrounding dorms to cause rucus, yelling and shouting their glee in Osama bin Laden's death. The mob was promptly stopped by the Benedictine priests and monks living on each of the floors. The mob was sent away, told that this was not a soccer game and that America had not scored the final point.

As I was walking back to my dorm, I reprimanded myself at such insensitivity and total disregard for my faith. There I was, a Christian theologian, gloating over the death of another human being. The rest of the night was spent in conversation, both in person and via Facebook.

The majority of the comments were celebratory. People were glad that Osama was dead. They were glad that American forces took him out. They were glad that September 11th victims could find some closure. A few of my friends, however, were posting things contrary the glad statuses.

One person cited a verse from Proverbs that talks about not being glad in the death of an enemy. Others were posting and reposting a quote that was falsely attributed to the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King (even though it expressed sentiments that I suspect Dr. King would have been fine saying.)

I quickly became disgusted at the sheer hatred that my friends, acquantances, and colleagues were able to show toward another human being, no matter how evil he behaved. The next day was spent in prayer, reading my Bible and continuing to engage in dialogue with folks who were still dancing on graves.

I understand the pain that Osama bin Laden caused. As a Christian, however, I have no room in my heart for celebration at death. I'm very glad that Osama bin Laden is gone. I'm very glad that he'll no longer be able to cause so much death and pain around the world. I'm very glad that September 11th victims will be able to come to some sort of closure, or at least begin to move in that direction. I'm glad that the world is, perhaps, a little bit safer. In spite of being so glad at these things, I cannot dance on the man's grave. I can't celebrate death.

Christians are called to be Easter people. Easter is about life defeating death, about love overcoming hate. As a Christian, I cannot hate another human being. I cannot celebrate death.

I won't judge and I won't hate. The world has enough judgement and hatred in the world. I can't bring myself--as easy as it might be--to judge my friends who disagree with me and find pleasure in dancing on Osama bin Laden's grave. I can certainly tell them that I disagree with them. I can continue to engage in dialogue. I can continue to pray.

And that's what I'm left doing.

Praying.

Praying for Osama bin Laden and the repose of his soul, for those men and women who put their lives into harm's way to execute an order, for peace and for justice, and for a God whose very name is love.

Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy. Lord, have mercy.

Amen.

Thursday, April 7

"You study the Scriptures diligently because you think that in them you have eternal life. These are the very Scriptures that testify about me, yet you refuse to come to me to have life."
-John 5: 39-40
These two verses are from today's lectionary texts and speak volumes to what I've bee thinking and praying about lately. There are so many people who act like they know Scripture like the back of their palms. They cite this verse and that chapter, but they don't live in the life of Christ. I always think that this is the case with those fundamentalist Christians--evangelical, Roman Catholic, or otherwise--who are so fast to throw their god against a whole variety of people.

If Jesus had heard many of today's Christians talking so negatively about their homosexual sisters and brothers, I suspect that his reprimand would be similar to what it was in today's reading. "Hey now...you cite my book, you cite my life, but you don't get the message! You don't live in love. Forget about all the hate and division and dissent and focus on me and the way that I loved everybody--gay, straight, prostitute, preacher, whatever!"

That is my prayer--that I could love everybody with half as much love as Jesus did.

Remain in God's hands,

+Cody

Tuesday, April 5

Songs of the Spirit



I want to honor the anger and frustration that was naturally present in my previous post regarding the USCCB's denunciation of Sister Elizabeth Johnson, CSJ's theology. At the same time, I am a Christian and I must believe in new life and resurrection. I must believe in the dawn that comes after the darkest point of the night.

This song brings me hope and sings to me of the dawn following the darkest hours of the night.

Peace to you all and grace,

+Cody