Thanksgiving Eve Sermon 2013

Thanksgiving Eve Sermon 2013

John 6:25-35

PREACHER: Pastor Carrie Smith

Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

Jesus said: ““I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.”

Today, as I was kneading the dough for my Grandma Golden’s Swedish rye bread—a recipe handed down from her mother and her mother before that and only written down when I requested it—I remembered a conversation with my Great Uncle Walter Salmonson about bread. Uncle Walter (or Valter, as he said it) lived in the nursing home down the hall from my grandpa. On one visit to see them both, I asked Uncle Walter how the food was.

“I don’t like the bread,” he said. 

“Why? What’s wrong with the bread?”

“Vell, it has too much vind in it, you know.”

“Too much…vind?” I asked.

“Ja…too much vind! I like real bread!” said Uncle Walter.

I had never considered my bread to be “windy” before, but after that conversation I took special notice. And you know what? He was right! Our bread does have too much “vind” in it. The perfectly formed, pre-sliced, carefully preserved, fluffy stuff we call bread is full of air. That’s what makes it look so pretty on the shelves and in our lunch boxes! But it doesn’t look anything like the thick slices of rye or whole wheat baked by my grandmother and her mother before her. 

The bread Uncle Walter was hungry for has depth. And texture. And a crust! It makes a strong foundation for slabs of cheese, thick layers of peanut butter, or leftover Thanksgiving turkey. It does not fold nicely, or squish into little balls to flick at your siblings or feed to the ducks, and it will never last for 3 weeks in the pantry.

Uncle Walter was getting fluffy, vindy bread in the dining room, but he was hungry for something that would fill him up. He wanted real bread. 

Sisters and brothers, Thanksgiving is not a Christian holy day or even a particularly religious day at all. But, because this is a day when most of us gather around the table and spend a lot of time thinking about (and eating!) food, Thanksgiving can be a moment for Christians to contemplate what we are truly hungry for.

Like Uncle Walter, we hungry humans want real bread. We want to be filled, and to never be hungry again. But most days, we spend our time chasing after things which never will satisfy our hunger. Day after day, we go hunting for that one thing which will take away the pain, the loneliness, the grief, the fear, and the uncertainty of this world. In that pursuit, we fill our bellies with all sorts of junk food:

Work. Hobbies and distractions of every kind. Shopping and collecting. Anger. Cynicism. Devotion to a particular worldview or political stance. Even good works can become a way of filling the void! But all these things end up being just full of air, and not substantial enough to keep us satisfied even for the day.

In tonight’s Gospel text, we see that Jesus wants to turn the crowd’s appetite from the loaves that merely filled their bellies to the bread that would last for eternity. It’s important to note that this crowd searching for and following after Jesus is the very same crowd that, in the previous chapter, had feasted on the five loaves and two fish with about 5,000 of their closest friends. That meal was so good, so tasty, and so miraculous, that the crowd decided to search for the chef. But when they found Jesus, they were surprised to hear him say: “You’re just looking for me because the last time you saw me, your bellies were filled!”

I can just hear them thinking, “Well, YEAH! Wasn’t that the point? We were hungry, you fed us. It was a miracle! What’s the problem?”

The problem was Jesus wanted the crowd to understand how his teaching, his healing, and his miracles were never the end of the story. Everything Jesus did—including the feeding of the 5,000—was meant to point the people toward God the Father, the creator of all good things, the beginning and the end, the One who gave the true bread of life to the world. Jesus wasn’t seeking followers who were amazed by his miracles or were looking for signs and wonders, but rather fellow travelers who would join him in on the Way, preaching God’s Word of hope to the hungry, the poor, and the captives.

So he told the people: “Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures for eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you.”

To which the people replied: “Excellent! Where can we buy it? Is it at Wal-Mart? Does it come in bulk? We want to eat it for every meal! Give us this bread always!”

When you read the Gospels, do ever wonder why Jesus even put up with some of his disciples and followers? These guys were often nothing more than vindy bread themselves! But then, those who followed him possessed the most important thing. They, like us, were hungry: hungry for hope, hungry for grace and forgiveness, and hungry for a life with meaning. 

Sisters and brothers, as we prepare to feast on many good things—pie this evening, and more wonderful things tomorrow—we gather to rejoice that Jesus is the true bread of life. He is the bread from heaven, given as a gift to the entire world. His life and witness, his death and resurrection, are the bread that fills our empty bellies and heals our broken hearts. Especially this season, when we are fed the message that a Black Friday deal or a Cyber Monday steal can fill the emptiness, it’s good to feast again on the words of Jesus, who said, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.” Thanks be to God, for this and every good gift. Amen. 

Sermon for November 17, 2013: 26th Sunday after Pentecost (Stewardship Sunday)

Sermon for Sunday, November 17, 2013

Luke 21:5-19

PREACHER: Pastor Carrie Smith

The first thing that should be said about today’s Gospel text is that this is a speech for insiders. These words from Jesus are literally words meant for the choir – for the believers, the community of the faithful, those who are in the pews or the choir loft every Sunday; these are words for those disciples who have been with Jesus on the journey thus far and seem likely to continue on, come what may. This speech is not, then, a great tool for evangelism. I wouldn’t advise using this bit of Scripture for your “elevator speech” about Christianity, for example! And while it might be more accurate, it’s probably not a good idea for us to put these words on the front of our church, either. There’s probably a good reason we don’t see congregations named “By Your Endurance You Will Gain Your Souls Church” or church signs declaring: “Welcome to Church! Do you see these stones? All will be thrown down!” I think it’s also safe to say that next year’s stewardship campaign will likely not be based on Luke 21:17: “Jesus said, ‘You will be hated by all because of me.’ Please give generously.”

So this is not a warm and fuzzy, feel-good, Joel Osteen-style Scripture text! But this text does tell the truth. And sometimes, the truth hurts.

In this case, one truth Jesus wants to impart is that the things we think are permanent and immovable never really are. Temples, monuments, memorials, family traditions, and even this church will one day be gone. Scripture says “The grass withers and the flower fades; the Word of God stands forever.” It doesn’t say anything about the structures we erect, even those that are meant to honor God! We, like the disciples, admire the beautiful stones, stained glass, and new technology adorning our temples, and Jesus says: “As for these things that you see, the days will come when not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down.”

On Friday, I was asked to attend the Board meeting of my alma mater, the Lutheran School of Theology at Chicago, as part of the strategic planning committee. We spent the afternoon talking about how to increase enrollment, how to market the school, and how to ensure its viability for the coming years. And, of course, we talked about the building. The Board talked about plans for replacing air conditioners, upgrading technology, and caring for aging (and often crumbling) student apartments. There was also discussion about how to get decent Wifi in a building designed like a concrete bunker which I have heard called (lovingly by students and not-so-lovingly by the neighborhood) “the Darth Vader School”.

It was all very interesting to observe, but as I listened to the careful planning for the future of these buildings that still feel like a second home for me, I couldn’t help thinking about those pesky words of Jesus: “As for these things you see, the days will come when not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down.” This was especially on my mind when the strategic planning consultant asked us to imagine, not just success, but “wild success.” What would “wild success” look like for this Lutheran seminary?

Board members mentioned enrollment increases of 2 percent per year; becoming the “go-to school” where bishops would find their favorite new pastors; having a balanced budget with a surplus; and having a building that grows with our needs. All worthy goals.

But it was just one professor in the back of the room – a professor of church history, in his last year of teaching – who raised his hand to offer: “It seems to me, dear people, that ‘wild success’ would mean students leaving this place equipped to proclaim Christ crucified and risen.”

Well, duh! This seems obvious, doesn’t it? You could hear a collective groan from the Board members, who were just trying to do their important work. And yet, this back of the room comment shone light on a problem that we all can understand: we most often judge beauty, growth, and success as being signs both of our faithfulness and of God’s presence and favor in our lives. Big enrollment equals a successful seminary. Big worship attendance equals a faithful church. Big house equals a happy family.

And if we believe that beauty, growth, and success are signs of God’s presence or blessing in our lives and on our mission, then it follows that persecution, distress, suffering or pain are signs of God’s absence or abandonment. The closing of a seminary, for example, would mean failure. A church that isn’t growing must not be faithfully following Jesus. A family that loses its house must be doing something wrong. In the worst possible example of this logic, we hear of people being told that if they have cancer, they must not have enough faith, or must not have prayed hard enough.

And yet, this is not the truth Jesus was laying out for the disciples in today’s preaching text, is it? Here we have Jesus making his own back-of-the-room comment, attempting to draw the disciples’ attention away from their beautifully adorned temple and instead preparing them for the path ahead. He said:

“Watch out for the doomsday deceivers. Many leaders are going to show up with forged identities claiming, ‘I’m the One,’ or, ‘The end is near.’ Don’t fall for any of that. When you hear of wars and uprisings, keep your head and don’t panic. (Keep Calm, and Carry On!) This is routine history and no sign of the end.” He went on, “Nation will fight nation and ruler fight ruler, over and over. Huge earthquakes will occur in various places. There will be famines. You’ll think at times that the very sky is falling.

“But before any of this happens, they’ll arrest you, hunt you down, and drag you to court and jail. It will go from bad to worse, dog-eat-dog, everyone at your throat because you carry my name. You’ll end up on the witness stand, called to testify. Make up your mind right now not to worry about it. I’ll give you the words and wisdom that will reduce all your accusers to stammers and stutters.

“You’ll even be turned in by parents, brothers, relatives, and friends. Some of you will be killed. There’s no telling who will hate you because of me. Even so, every detail of your body and soul—even the hairs of your head!—is in my care; nothing of you will be lost. Staying with it—that’s what is required. Stay with it to the end. You won’t be sorry; you’ll be saved.”

Conflict, legal problems, family strife, and death—this probably isn’t the vision of “wild success” the seminary’s strategic planning consultant had in mind! And it’s probably not on your wish list for your life, your family, or your church, either. And yet, as believers, when we encounter tragedy or persecution, we do not start shouting loud predictions of the end-times. We do not lose hope! Rather, we stand firm and endure, trusting in our Lord Jesus, who promises that by our endurance we will gain our souls.

As I said before, this is not a feel-good piece of Scripture. But it is a feeling-the-truth kind of Scripture. And the truth, while it can hurt, also sets us free.

Sisters and brothers, the truth which sets us free is this: God loves you! And bad things will happen. Bad things very well may happen because you proclaim Christ, because you speak about him and try to follow him. But even this does not indicate the end, or show in any way that God is not with you. Frederick Buechner said it this way: “Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don't be afraid. I am with you. Nothing can ever separate us.”

And this is why, as believers, we see the present time, with all its difficulty and tragedy, with economic and employment struggles, health crises, and a culture hostile to the Gospel, as being a time ripe for prayer, watchfulness, and endurance, and yes: testimony. This is the time to share our stories of struggle and of enduring faith! This is the time to come out of the closet as believers and followers of Jesus! This is the time to sing to the Lord, for he has done marvelous things! Amen!

So, for a Lutheran seminary, “wild success” might not mean a growing enrollment or faculty or building. But it certainly means growing faithful pastors equipped to boldly proclaim Christ in both good times and in bad.

For a church, “wild success” might mean packing the pews and outgrowing the building and embarking on a capital campaign. It could happen! But it also might mean banding together in the face of a crisis, or faithfully embracing and adapting to a changing culture, or giving ourselves and our resources away as food for the poor.

And I would submit that for Bethany’s 2014 stewardship campaign, “wild success” would not be merely having enough dollars to pay the salaries and cover the bills, but rather means coming together, as a community, to proclaim Christ crucified and risen through the use of our time and talents and treasures. At the end of the day—and at the end of times, when even these walls we love so dearly have come tumbling down, and when the Son of Man comes again to judge the world with righteousness—I believe “wild success” will be judged to be the extent to which we have sent people forth from this place, equipped to testify to the goodness of God, in good times, and in bad.  

So stand firm, sisters and brothers! Do not weary in doing what is right! For by your endurance you will gain your souls. Amen. 

Sermon for November 10, 2013: 25th Sunday after Pentecost

Sermon for November 10, 2013

PREACHER: Pastor Carrie Smith

Luke 20:27-38

Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

 Last week, our community gathered to celebrate All Saints Day, lighting candles in remembrance of our loved ones who have died, and rejoicing in the promise of the resurrection. Here at Bethany, this day is always a beautiful celebration: we haul out the bell choir, our best singers, special brass musicians, and our lovely liturgical dancers, all to help us give thanks to God who is the Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end; and to Jesus, the risen Lord, who promises to be with us always, even to the end of the age. It was a glorious worship service, thanks to all those who offered their artistic talents to the glory of God! 

On All Saints Sunday, the promise of the resurrection is what makes the day more than just a memorial for the dead. The promise that one day we will all be raised and reunited with our loved ones is why Christians do not mourn as those with no hope, but instead gather and celebrate as we did in spectacular fashion last week.

But let’s be honest: on All Saints Day, we don’t dwell on the specifics. The preacher doesn’t spend a lot of time talking about the nature of the resurrected life, providing proof of the bodily resurrection of the dead, or painting Thomas Kinkade-style pictures of heaven. Why? Because everyone has a different understanding of what the resurrection of the dead means or looks like. And Scripture, while it gives us hope, doesn’t give us many details to go on!

Take the text for this week, for example.

Here we encounter a fringe group, the Sadducees, publicly testing Jesus on the issue of the resurrection. First of all, we don’t know much about the Sadducees and who they were. These guys seem to be ones whose entire identity is made up of what they are against. Can you picture people like this from your own life? Folks who seem to draw energy from being negative? You might remember the Sadducees from Sunday School, where I, at least, was taught to remember that the Sadducees were against the resurrection, so they were sad, you see...

So the Sadducees had issues with the resurrection, and they especially had issues with Jesus teaching in the synagogue about the resurrection. So they concocted a scenario, a perfect storm, a trap of a riddle, meant to twist Jesus up in his argument and prove the resurrection to be impossible.

“So…there is this woman whose husband dies, leaving her childless. So she marries his brother, and he dies. She eventually marries all 7 brothers, and they all die, and she never has any children—so after she dies, whose wife will she be?”

The point of throwing this riddle at Jesus is to try and make Jesus say something, in the synagogue, that goes against the teachings of Moses. The Sadducees want to discredit him, and therefore his ideas. But Jesus comes back with an answer that stops them in their tracks: he says: “Listen, these marriage laws are about the here and now. The resurrected life is completely different! Your complicated rules will not be an issue! And furthermore, even Moses talks about the resurrection. So the most important thing to know is this: ^“Now he is God not of the dead, but of the living; for to him all of them are alive.”

God is not the God of the dead, but of the living. This may not seem like a definitive answer, but for the Sadducees, it was enough to shut them up. The very next verses, which didn’t make it into our lectionary reading for today, say this:

⁹Then some of the scribes answered, “Teacher, you have spoken well.”⁴⁰For they no longer dared to ask him another question.”

I wish I could say something so definitive about the resurrection—something that would stop doubters in their tracks. Or, even better—I wish I had the right words to clear up my own doubting and confused thoughts on this issue! But to be honest, I had preached about the resurrection at a number of funerals before I had thought too much about what I really believed about it.

And then, I had no choice but to think about it. This happened at my first call, down the road at a country parish, and I had a dear parishioner there who was sick from the very first time I met her. At first, Paula was just short of breath. She wheezed a little as she walked up and down the steps into the church. She always attended the Wednesday evening service with her husband, because for many years she had worked the night shift as a nurse and found Sunday mornings too difficult. Wednesday nights typically had about 15 people in attendance, an intimate group, so we got to know each other quickly, and the Wednesday group often prayed for Paula and her breathing issues.

In the weeks and months after I arrived, as I got to know her, Paula’s health got worse and worse. Doctors were baffled. They could find no reason for her to have difficulty breathing. It wasn’t cancer. It wasn’t asthma. It wasn’t allergies or a mold problem in her house. Finally, they diagnosed her with “idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis.” In other words, scarring of the lung tissue with no discernible cause. And no treatment.

She was 59 years old.

Unfortunately, the disease progressed rapidly, and less than a year after I met her, Paula was in the hospital unable to take any meaningful breaths. One incredibly hot August day, I stopped in to see her there after spending far too much time at the county fair (another important part of a rural pastor’s job!) I rushed in, hot and sweaty, for a quick hello, and saw that Paula was really struggling. So I sat at the edge of her bed and asked what I could do. Paula shared that she was frustrated and angry, and incredibly sad to be leaving her husband, kids, and grandchildren. She knew she was dying, and it sucked. But at that moment, in her hospital bed, she wanted to talk about the resurrection.

What was it like? Did I believe in it? How could we know it to be true? Dying was the easy part, she said. Trusting that this wasn’t really the end was the hard part. Please help, she said.

I have to say, as a brand-new pastor, I felt completely unprepared for that conversation. I knew how to write a good funeral sermon. I knew how to baptize babies and chant the liturgy and prepare children for confirmation. I knew how to attend the county fair and bless the cows and pigs and sheep my parishioners were showing. But looking a dying woman in the face and answering her questions about the resurrection seemed something best left to a pastor who knew more than I did, had seen more than I did, or understood Scripture more than I did.

But here was no one else in the room that day but me. So here’s what we did: Paula and I held hands. We decided there was so much we didn’t know (what the resurrection would look like, who would be there, what our bodies would be like, what our relationships to our loved ones will be like, for example) so instead we talked about what we did know: What God is like. How we’ve felt God’s love for us and presence with us. And, especially, where we have experienced resurrection already, in this life.

Paula talked about the joy of holding her grandchildren as babies and seeing the future in their eyes.

I talked about watching my brother journey from the depths of a powerful addiction to a new, clean life, full of promise and hope.

Paula shared about her love of angels (she had a truly massive angel figurine collection at home!) and some of the times when she felt the presence of angels (or God, or the Holy Spirit, or whatever you wanted to call it) giving her comfort and hope.

I shared about the darkness of my own grief after losing several pregnancies, and the new, resurrected life I found when I was able to share my story with others going through the same thing.

Paula talked about feeling Jesus’ presence with her at church, and while reading Scripture, and especially while singing her favorite hymns. She also gave thanks for the life-giving 40 year marriage she had enjoyed with her husband.

After a while, we were silent. There were still many questions left unanswered. The future was still unclear. But together, we had found firm ground in speaking about the God we knew intimately—the God who had been present with us at our baptisms, in our sharing of communion, in the beauty of nature, at the birth of our children, in the love of our church community, and in times of difficulty and grief. The God we both knew is the God of the living, not the dead. Our God is a God of life, life, and more life—which we saw most perfectly when Jesus was raised from the dead and walked again among the faithful. As scary as it was to be facing death, Paula came to a resting place, trusting that the God of this life she loved so much would continue to be the God of the next life; that the God she loved and served would not abandon her when she needed God most.

Soon, I went back to the county fair, because Paula needed her rest. She died just a few days later.

At this point in my ministry, I’m not sure I have any better answers about the resurrection. I wish I could direct you all to heaven’s website, where you could see previews of the rooms available and even check out the menu for that heavenly banquet! I wish I had the perfect snappy comeback for those who doubt, just like Jesus did with the Sadducees. But instead, in times of doubt—mine or others’—I find myself going back to that hospital room with Paula, where together we found hope in the promise of the resurrection, and where we knew the awesome presence of the living God in the sharing of our stories. 

Let us pray, sisters and brothers, with St. Augustine, who wrote:

“You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it finds its rest in you.” Amen. 

All Saints Day Sermon: November 3, 2013

All Saints Day Sermon: Nov. 3, 2013

PREACHER: Pastor Carrie Smith

Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

On Tuesday afternoon, I took a deep breath as the hearse I was riding in pulled up to Crystal Lake Memorial Park. We were arriving for the committal of Linda Heisler’s dad, Vince, after a lovely service in celebration of his life. It had already been an unusual day, being the first time I had ever presided at a funeral on my own birthday! But it got even stranger as I stepped out into the crisp fall air and my eyes fell on the grave marker just in front of me. The inscription read: “John Michaels and Carol Michaels.” The sight stopped me in my tracks. I stood there for a moment, and no kidding, my first thought was: “Wow, isn’t that funny, another couple named John and Carol Michaels! What are the odds?” And then it hit me: This was our John and our Carol. I know it seems a little silly, since I was there with Pastor Paul the day John was laid to rest next to Carol last December, but on that that October afternoon, it just didn’t seem possible to be meeting John again in this way, in this place.

It was a moment so heavy with emotion and memories that it literally took my breath away.

But then, it’s just been that kind of week. In the last eight days, I’ve celebrated my best friend’s wedding, Reformation Day, my oldest son’s Confirmation, my birthday, Vince’s funeral, Halloween, and now All Saints’ Day, topped off with the baptism of little Colton Charles Johnson (at the 10:30 am service today). What an emotional whirlwind! I suddenly want to sing something from the Lion King, something like:

It's the Circle of Life

And it moves us all

Through despair and hope

Through faith and love

Till we find our place

On the path unwinding

In the Circle…The Circle of Life!

After so many emotional conversations and memorable moments, truly experiencing the whole circle of life in just one week, I found myself many evenings just sitting quietly, unable to do anything but be still. And now, here we are, gathering as a community for All Saints’ Day, the day the church sets aside once a year just to be still and remember. On this day, we carve out space in the midst of our busy lives (and just before an even busier holiday season), to fully embrace the weight of our mortality; to remember loved ones who have gone before us; and to rejoice in the communion of saints. And we gather to sing—not from the Lion King, but from our hymnal, “For All the Saints”:

Oh, blest communion, fellowship divine,

we feebly struggle, they in glory shine;

yet all are one in thee, for all are thine. Alleluia! Alleluia! 

We often speak about that “blest communion”, the communion of all the saints, without thinking much about what it really means. We say it every week, in fact, when we confess the creed: “I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy catholic church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, and the life everlasting.” Most of the time, though, the phrase “communion of saints” remains just that: a phrase. A doctrine. Church-talk. At best, it is something we expect to experience far off in the future, when all of us will be reunited with our loved ones at the heavenly banquet that never ends.

And then…you have a week like the one I just had, in which birth, life, love and death all seem to collide in the here and now. Or we have a morning like this one, when we are surrounded by the light of our beloved saints who have died, and at the same time bring to the water one of our newest saints, Colton Charles, rejoicing as he joins us in the Body of Christ and in the mission we share. These are the days which, as Jan Richardson wrote, “remind us that in the body of Christ, death does not release us from being in community with one another.”

Death does not release us from being in community with one another! Have you ever had the experience of wanting to tell someone something important, so you pick up the phone and dial, only to be hit with the knowledge, once again, that they are gone? This is similar to what happened to me at the cemetery the other day. I was shocked to see John’s name etched in stone, because on a day to day basis, I see John’s name etched into the bricks of this place. I see John whenever Pastor Paul helps us to hang the banners on the highest hooks of the sanctuary. I see John when volunteers step up to do things here at church without being asked, or when the choir sings a particularly good number. John’s faithful witness—like the witness of Carol, Buck, Alice, Pauline, Bruce, Dorothy, and Bill—lives on, not just in these candles we’ve lit today, but in the way we live out God’s call as the Body of Christ in the world.

Sisters and brothers, in baptism we are joined with all the saints, past and present, young and old, in Crystal Lake and across the world, to become the one Body of Christ. This is what the communion of saints means to me: It means we are a community that today continues to be changed, transformed, and blessed by the witness of all the saints: the newest ones like Colton; the far away ones like the Christians my husband Robert is meeting with in South Korea; the unnoticed or forgotten ones, like the elderly, the disabled, the immigrant, or the homeless; and, yes, the saints who have gone before us. The phrase “communion of saints” is just a way to describe the awesome one-ness we have in Christ, across culture and geography, age and gender, and yes, even across that thin veil between life and death.

The joy and challenge of All Saints Day is to truly recognize and remember all the saints. Jesus’ sermon on the plain in Luke chapter 6 gives us this to consider: “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled. Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh. Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you on account of the Son of Man.” This passage asks us to stretch our idea of sainthood. It challenges us to notice that Jesus does not limit blessedness or sainthood to the very good, the very brave, or even to the ones who have already died. Jesus opens our eyes to see saints in the check-out line, in the middle school lunchroom, and in the cubicle next to ours. Jesus opens our hearts to recognize members of our community—the communion of all saints—in places we wouldn’t expect: among the hungry, the grieving, the excluded and the oppressed, who are blessed simply by virtue of being loved by him.

Once again, on this All Saints Day, Jesus introduces the kind of radical reversal of values that will be the hallmark of the kingdom of heaven—and then invites us to live as citizens of that kingdom right here, right now. He says: “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt. Give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again. Do to others as you would have them do to you.” In other words: don’t just believe in the communion of saints, BE the communion of saints. Treat everyone you meet as carrying the light of Christ—the same light which illuminates our space today in remembrance of the saints. The same light which Colton Charles Johnson will receive at his baptism today. The same light which is carried by Christians across the world. The same light, the light of Christ, which our beloved saints of old see now in its full glory, but which we see only through a glass darkly.

Let us pray:

God of the generations,

when we set our hands to labor,

thinking we work alone,

remind us that we carry

on our lips

the words of prophets,

in our veins

the blood of martyrs,

in our eyes

the mystics’ visions,

in our hands

the strength of thousands. Amen. 

(Jan Richardson)

Affirmation of Baptism Sermon

Confirmation: What Was That About?

Pr. Paul Cannon

John 15

 

Grace and Peace Bethany Lutheran!

And to all of you who are about to complete your Confirmation experience.  Congratulations!

For many of you, this has been a long and confusing two years.  Over your time, we’ve tried to teach each one of you what Lutheranism is about – what Christianity is all about.  So we’ve talked about the Apostle’s Creed.  We’ve talked about the Lord’s Prayer.  We went over the ten commandments and talked about Baptism and Communion.

And I’m sure that we veered off on quite a few tangents as well. 

In fact, some of my favorite time that I spent with all of you was when we went off on a tangent, talking about the things that you wanted to talk about in our small groups. 

I would be talking about the Lord’s prayer, when somebody like Jarrett would raise his hand and ask some great question like “Can Muslim’s go to heaven?” or Luke would raise his hand and ask how dinosaurs fit into the creation story. And then we would be off on that seemingly random topic for the rest of the class. 

It’s funny because most of the time, when you brought up these excellent questions, I would throw it back at you and say, “Well, what do you think?” I know – not very helpful.  But that question is my favorite question to ask whenever I have a group of kids like you all, because more often than not, you all give as good of an answer as I could. 

Even though you might not have known it, you were being theologians. And we have a lot of different types of theologians in the group. Robbie would raise his hand to say something and then Ethan or Morgan would raise their hands with a different perspective. 

I loved to hear the diversity of opinions you all would share. You asked really good questions – about God, and life and how everything fits together.  You became Theologians.  You talked about God and wrestled with your faith and what it means to you.

Of course, that doesn’t mean that you’re experts.  If you are like me, you take a test or you write an essay and immediately afterwards forget every that you just learned.   Can anybody tell me what the parts of the Old Testament are?  I didn’t think so!

So I’m sure that some of you are now wondering after two years, with all that learning slipping away already – you’re wondering what this whole Confirmation thing has been about.  Why did you go to classes every single Wednesday night for two years?  What were you supposed to get out of all that?

I’m going to let you in on a little secret. Confirmation is the process of making something ridiculously simple – really complex.  Because I can pretty much sum up everything that we learned into one word.  All those theological discussions,  all the tests and essays that I had you write – all the sermon notes that you took and service hours that you put in can be summed up in one little word – Love.

In fact, the student who summed it up the best in his faith statement was Caleb Smith who wrote simply “I believe that God loves everybody.” 

If that is the one thing that you get out of Confirmation – that God loves everybody – then I will be a happy pastor.  That’s why I chose our Gospel text from the book John today, because Jesus says it straight out, “This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you.” 

Love is a simple word – that is amazingly hard to do sometimes. When you see the sinner come out of somebody, and they hurt your feelings, it makes it hard to see the lovable saint.

And I’m proud to say that I’ve seen glimpses of the saint in each one of them as they have learned to love their neighbor and love God. Not perfectly – the way that Jesus has loved us – but in fits and starts.  In the last year I’ve spent with these students, I’ve seen glimpses of them learning to love like God loves.

That’s why we want to have all our kids go to camp.  Most of them arrive not knowing each other (let alone loving each other), but by the end of the week they are exchanging phone numbers. When we took kids to Lutherdale over the summer, it wasn’t so much about getting on the high ropes course, or doing the Bible Studies or even playing gaga ball - it was about our kids learning to love each other.

And we saw that!  Kendall, Sarah, Logan, Caleb and Tyler might not choose to use the L word – because they would call it awkward – but they were figuring out how to love each other - How to live in a community - What friendship really means.

And even more than that, these kids learned to love through serving their community and their church.  Meghan, Jarrett, Chase and William have all been spending the last few weeks as helpers for our Sunday School program as a part of their confirmation project.  And I know the teachers love having them as much as the kids love having them to look up to.

Then there is Ryan and Nathaniel who sewed together a few dozen backpacks and filled them with school supplies for kids half-way across the world.  That’s loving your neighbor without even knowing who they are!

In class, the students learn that all of us, are 100% sinners.  And yes, at times all of you have done your fair share of it.  But they also learned that through the loving act of Jesus on the cross, a gift of grace given to us through baptism, we are also 100% saints. 

It’s one of Martin Luther’s famous paradoxes.  And while it’s easy to look at any person and see the sinner, all these kids that are affirming their baptism, have been proving their sainthood through all the acts of love that they have shown.

What’s it all been about then?  All the rules you have to follow for confirmation, all the sermon notes you had to take and service hours that you have to fulfill – what’s it all been about?

Let me answer that, finally, with Jesus words as we heard in our reading today, “ I am giving you these commands,” he said, “so that you may love one another.”

That’s what it’s all about.

Thanks be to God,

Amen.

Sunday, October 20th - Genesis 32:

On Jacob, Wrestling and Marathons

Pr. Paul Cannon

October 20th, 2013 

Genesis 32 

Grace and Peace Bethany Lutheran!

The first story that we heard today was about a man named Jacob who wrestled with God and walked away with a limp and a blessing. 

After running my first ever half-marathon last weekend, I’ve learned a thing or two about blessings – and yes – a few things about limping as well.

I’ve never really considered myself to be a runner until I recently started to train for this half marathon.  In fact, I never really considered actually signing up for a race of any kind until my twin brother signed up and ran one the year before – which I took as a personal challenge. 

Of course, being a twin, we’re competitive at everything, so even walking to the mailbox together usually turns into a race … so the fact he ran one before me was humiliating.  I’m the older brother (by four minutes)!  I do everything first!  I was born first!

Thus, I convinced Kirstin to sign up for this race thinking “Eh, Neal’s done it.  It can’t be that hard.”

It was.  In fact, it might have been one of the most painful self-inflicted experiences of my life.

I started the race by making the mistake of running with my brother.  He began the race at a breakneck pace, and being the “older” brother, I had to keep up.

I was doing alright for the first 6 miles or so. But then we got to about mile 9, and then 10, and then 11, and my legs started to feel heavy, as if lead weights … that had just been pulled out of a furnace were clamped to my quads.  And in every single step, I could feel my legs burn just a little bit more as each step got progressively heavier.  And not only that, but time itself started to slow down.  Ten seconds of running might as well have been an hour.

Then came the last mile and as I approached the finish line, I kicked it into high gear – sprinting to the end – to the protest of every single muscle in my body, and finally cross the finish line.  And for those of you who are curious, I beat Neal by about 20 seconds…not that it’s important or anything.

And as I slow down, I began to realize that I was literally so tired that I wasn’t able to walk in a straight line!  I could barely stand.  I had to prop myself up against the snack table as I gulped chomped down a half a banana, washing it down with a paper cup full of Powerade. 

This is where the limping comes in. The next day, I was about as physically sore as I’ve ever been in my entire life and of course, that morning we had to load up in the car and drive the 7 hours back home to Illinois. 

Everything was in pain.  My shoulders even hurt!  I didn’t expect that!  On the drive home, everytime we stopped to get out of the car, I’m sure I looked like a wounded animal trying to escape a predator, just dragging one leg behind the other.

Here’s the funny thing though: Now, about a week later, I look back on the whole experience and all I can think is “That was awesome! Running 13 miles was so fun!”  I look back on it like a blessing because somehow, in and through it all, there was something redeeming about the struggle, and coming through the other side with a limp.

And to me, that’s the story of Jacob wrestling with God in a nutshell.

The first reading that we heard from Genesis today is a pivotal story in the Old Testament, but we need to back up a little bit to tell it properly.

Jacob, if you remember, was the grandson of Abraham and the son of Isaac. Some of you might remember that Jacob was a twin (thumbs up) to his brother Esau, but maybe more importantly, he was a conniving trickster.

Earlier in Genesis, as his hungry brother Esau was returning from a long hunt in the woods Jacob first tricks him into trading him his birthright for a bowl of stew. Then the story goes, that Jacob tricked his father Isaac into giving him a blessing meant for Esau.  At this point, Isaac was old and blind, so Jacob dressed up like his brother, put camel hair on his arms, and asked Isaac for his all important, non-refundable blessing.

Esau wasn’t happy about this – in fact he wanted to kill Jacob – and he ends us chasing his brother away into exile.  Years go by, and Jacob gets married, has some kids, and then gets into trouble (again!) with the people whom he was living with. 

So he decides this time to flee back home. Back to the only place that might take him in. Back to the land of his father.  Back to face his brother Esau, who the last time we heard, wanted to kill him. 

And that’s where we pick up in our story today.  Jacob is coming home with is wives and his kids.  He’s understandably a little nervous meeting his brother –when in the middle of the night, as he’s all alone, a strange man appears and starts to wrestle with him. 

I know that spontaneous wrestling sounds strange to some of you … who have never lived with brothers before, but I assure you, it happens all the time.

Regardless, we don’t know why they start wrestling, but they do.  They wrestle all night long, until the sun is about to come up. Then this God/angel person, or whoever it is, injures Jacob’s hip socket to slow him down, but it doesn’t work! Jacob refuses to quit.

So this wrestler, who we now presume is God, says to Jacob “Let me go, the sun is about to come up.”

In typical Jacob fashion, not only does he keep wrestling – but he sees an opportunity.  And Jacob says to God “I will not let you go until you bless me.”  I will not let you go. He’s like the little kid who clings onto your leg when you’re trying to walk.  He demands that this wrestler give him a blessing or he won’t let go!

So God asks Jacob, “What is your name?” And he tells him “Jacob.”  And God does something curious. He says, “No, it’s not.  Not anymore.  From now on, your name isn’t going to be Jacob – your name is Israel – because you have struggled with God and with humans, and have overcome.”

From that point on, Jacob becomes synonymous with Israel.  From that day, Jacob takes on the identity of the entire nation that was promised to his grandfather Abraham.

This story is one of the most talked about texts in the Bible and there is a lot of things that we could say about it.   It’s vague enough to be open to a lot of different interpretations and it lends itself to becoming a metaphor for faith.  Maybe you’ve heard people use the phrase “wrestling with God” before, and now you know where it comes from.

But the most interesting thing to me about this text isn’t that Jacob wrestled with God.  I think that we all wrestle with God at some points of our lives as we all struggle to figure out what this faith thing is really about. 

Even Mother Theresea, in her personal journals, wrote about how at times God felt distant to her, even as she was doing God’s work in India, caring for the sick and impoverished in India.  – We all wrestle with God.

To me, what’s fascinating is that Jacob didn’t walk away from this encounter with God unscathed.  Jacob walked with a limp for the rest of his life.  To me, that’s the most incredible metaphor for what our lives as Christians are like.  That when we encounter the living and breathing God – we don’t walk away unscathed. 

When we truly pursue God, it affects the way we walk. It affects the way we breathe.  It affects the way we live.   Encountering God isn’t always about traveling up to the mountain top and have an ecstatic experience of love.  Encountering God can leave us deeply affected.  Maybe even disturbed. Limping.

That’s the opposite of the popular image of God that we have in today’s age and in today’s culture.  When there are preachers out there who preach a prosperity gospel – a word that says that if you pray hard enough, God will make you rich, happy and healthy.  This story about Jacob wrestling with God says a different word. Jacob comes away limping.

But he doesn’t come away empty handed.  Jacob receives a blessing from God.  He receives a new name.  God calls him Israel.  It’s a new identity for a man who has been run out of town in the last two places he’s lived.  It’s a fresh start.  It’s grace.  It’s forgiveness for Jacob’s shady past.

And through Jesus, we receive these same blessings daily. When you wrestle with the resurrected Jesus, he won’t let you leave untouched by grace. A grace that changes who you are and how you walk.  Encountering Jesus will affect the way you breathe and the way you interact with your neighbors and your friends.

The Christian story, and in particular our Lutheran understanding of Christianity, points us to a God who meets us when we’re down and out, like Jacob was, and brings us a word of grace.

It’s a word about God’s character – a God who struggles for you.  A God who died on a cross and came out on the other side resurrected as a blessing for the entire world. 

That’s where we find our blessing as Christians.  When we encounter the risen Christ in the bread, the wine and the water, we too receive those blessings given to Jacob.  We receive a new name “Child of God.” We receive a fresh start. We receive grace.  We receive forgiveness.

And we too limp away with a blessing.

Thanks be to God.

Amen.