2nd Sunday in Lent

2^nd Sunday in Lent: March 4, 2012

Mark 8:31-38

Preacher: Pr. Carrie B. Smith

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

When I was a brand-new college student at Oklahoma State University—a freshman eager to begin my studies as a piano major—I thought I knew exactly what it meant to be a musician. After all, my dad was a music professor, and my grandfather had spent his entire career as a high school band director. One whole side of my family was involved in music in one way or another, and I had always known I would be following in their footsteps. The only difference, of course, is that I would be a performer, not a teacher like my relatives. I walked into the music department that first day ready to begin my glorious career as a professional pianist.

But first, there was an assembly of all freshmen music majors. A professor stood to welcome us to the program, and then he said: “I know you all want to be musicians. But if there is anything else you can do in life—if there is anything at all that will make you happy and fulfilled outside of this profession—you should do it. The life of a musician is hard. Most of you won’t make it. You’ll need side jobs to make ends meet. Only a few of you will have a go at a career. So if you think you can be happy doing anything else—go do it.”

How’s that for a pep talk? But of course, he was right. The life of a musician is rarely one of glitz and glory. Record deals, NPR interviews and concert dates at Carnegie Hall are few and far between. The reality of life as a musician is long hours in the practice room, late night gigs at senior proms, playing in a wedding polka band to pay the bills, and working every other waking hour at Subway. It’s a hard life, and not one to be entered into lightly. You should know what you’re getting into.

When Jesus gathered his disciples together in the days just before he entered Jerusalem, he gave them a similar sort of reality check:

³¹Then he began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again. ³²He said all this quite openly.

The disciple Peter didn’t like this pep talk one bit! In fact, he had the nerve to disagree with Jesus and rebuke him in front of the others: “No way, Jesus! I refuse to believe it! It doesn’t have to be that way!” I can picture Peter as the starry-eyed freshman music major, determined that these words weren’t for him—it can’t really be the way he is describing--he would certainly be a star, no matter what the professor said.

But Jesus, turning and looking at his disciples, rebuked Peter right back and said,

“Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”

And then, gathering the whole crowd around to listen along with the disciples, Jesus continued his “come to Jesus” speech:

“If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. ³⁵For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.”

Scripture tells us that Jesus said all these things “quite openly.” The time had come to get real about what discipleship would mean after Galilee, and especially after Jerusalem and Golgotha. Following Jesus would no longer mean being a roadie, on tour to new villages to see his astonishing teaching, healing, and feeding miracles. Now, according to Jesus, if you wanted to be his disciple, you would be carrying a cross, and losing your life. Not exactly glamorous or full of glory, is it? But, it’s a hard life, and you should know what you’re getting into.

This appears to be a terrible marketing strategy. It’s hard to imagine anyone signing up for voluntary cross-carrying duty as a lifestyle. And perhaps this is why we rarely speak “quite openly” about the realities of life as a follower of Jesus Christ. Instead, we focus on the attractive qualities of the Christian life in general, and church in particular. When we do speak openly, we often present the situation like this: (Yes, these are all real phrases from Chicagoland church websites)

· “You're invited to check out our church this Sunday for creative teaching, meaningful worship, an unforgettable kids program and a church that knows how to have fun! We provide complimentary coffee.”

· Or we extend invitations like this one: “If you're looking for a church home, we'd love for you to come by and see if we're a good fit. We believe God is in a good mood, and His heart is for you.”

· We create state of the art websites that promote our “talented live band and a style consistent with today’s culture” as well as “dynamic guest speakers from around the world”. We might even include a link for purchasing “bold Christian apparel.”

· And in a last ditch effort to get people in the door, we promise that “All weekend services last for ninety minutes – you can always expect them to start and end on time.”

Now, just to be clear, I have no problem with most of these individual features of Christian worship or of our life together on Sunday mornings. In fact, complimentary coffee, good music and services that start on time are a definite draw for me! But I wonder how different it would be if we told the truth, quite openly, about what Christian discipleship is like the other days of the week.

I wonder what it would be like for us to say, quite openly, something like this:

· If you want to follow Jesus, you’ll have to leave your own priorities and values at the door.

· If you want to follow Jesus, you’ll spend less time in the church and more time on the streets.

· If you want to follow Jesus, keep in mind that the church won’t always conform to your needs, but Christ always transforms you for his needs.

· If you want to follow Jesus, you should know that suffering goes beyond sitting through a bad sermon or eight verses of a hymn. As a disciple, you will carry the sufferings of others in your heart and on your back.

Perhaps this also is a crummy marketing campaign. On the other hand, being a Christian isn’t easy, and you should know what you’re getting into.

The time has come to tell the truth about Christian discipleship. Why? Because Jesus was quite open about the necessity of picking up your cross to follow him. But we confuse the message:

1. We either bypass the cross altogether and promise people they will find a life of perfect joy and no pain if they become a Christian; or:

2. We confuse our own personal life struggles with Jesus’ invitation to discipleship.

The first problem—leading others to believe that being a Christian is all sunshine and rainbows—results in new disciples who feel side-swiped and lied to when the struggles of life don’t disappear upon joining the church.

But the second problem—confusing our own sufferings with Jesus’ invitation to discipleship—is also a lie. We get a cancer diagnosis, or we have a problem teenager, or we lose our job, and we find ourselves saying: “Ah yes, this is the cross I must bear.”

And indeed: Cancer sucks. Unemployment is heart-breaking and home-ruining. Burying a loved one is unimaginably hard. It takes a mountain of faith and strong shoulders to bear such crosses. But these sufferings are not the cross of discipleship! Suffering and grief are the result of a broken and sinful world, which the cross of Jesus Christ has redeemed.

When Jesus says “Take up your cross and follow me”, he’s not speaking to the cancer patient—he’s speaking to the one standing by the bed of the cancer patient. He’s speaking to the neighbor of the jobless father. He’s speaking to the friends of the struggling or grieving parent. And he says: “You there—yes, you!—pick up that cross and follow me.”

If you want to be a disciple, take up the sufferings of your neighbor. Lighten their load. Walk next to them. Go where they are going, even if (and especially if) it leads to suffering and death.

If you want to be a disciple, stand with the Kearns family as they grieve the loss of Jennifer, age 19—not only for many hours at the visitation, but in the months and years to come.

If you want to be a disciple, be there for the Vito family, helping Kelly with the burden of raising a family without Frank.

If you want to be a disciple, stand with the illegal, homeless, unpopular, mentally ill, foreclosed upon, imprisoned, heretical, or just plain unpleasant people in your midst, even if it means you, too, are reviled and ridiculed and gossiped about.

If you want to be a disciple, speak out—quite openly—when the speech, actions, and laws of others cause your neighbor to suffer.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a Lutheran pastor who was hanged for attempting to assassinate Adolf Hitler, once wrote: “How is a disciple to know which is his or her cross? We receive it upon entering the discipleship of the suffering Lord, and come to recognize it in the community of Jesus.”

It is by living in community—worshipping, praying, laughing, crying, and breaking bread together, that we learn the cross we are to bear. We will know it when we see the suffering of our neighbor. We will know it when the love of God in Christ Jesus compels us to reach out and pick it up. And with the help of Christ, our Savior—and in his footsteps—we carry our neighbor’s cross, for the sake of the Gospel.

Jesus said: “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. ³⁵For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.” It’s a strange marketing strategy. It’s an unpopular church growth model! But faith tells us this: The way of the cross is also the way of life, and hope, and resurrection. This is the Gospel of Jesus Christ! This is God’s Good News, which is poured out on us and which we receive, quite openly, in the Word, in the waters of baptism, in bread and wine, and through the cross-bearing love of our Christian brothers and sisters. Amen.

February 19, 2012: Transfiguration of Jesus

February 19, 2012

The Transfiguration of Jesus

Mark 9:2-9

Preacher: Pastor Carrie B. Smith

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

Humorist and author David Sedaris is one of my favorite road trip companions. I own several audio books of his essays, read aloud by him, but my all-time favorite is a story called: “Sometimes things happen, and I don’t know what to do with my face.”

Apparently, Sedaris likes to ask unexpected questions of people who come to his book signings. I suppose it could get tedious asking things like “Where are you from?” or “What’s your name?”all day long, so he comes up with unusual, somewhat random things to ask. One time, near the end of a long day of signing books, a woman finally makes it to the front of the line. Sedaris is really stretching to come up with an interesting question at this point in the day. So he blurts out: “When is the last time you…touched a monkey?”

To which the woman sighs and answers, “Oh dear…can you smell it on me?”

“Sometimes things happen, and I don’t know what to do with my face!” writes David. And truly, how does one respond to an exchange like that? With a smile? A reassuring, “Oh no, not at all!”

“Sometimes things happen, and I don’t know what to do with my face.” I couldn’t get this phrase out of my head this week as I studied the story of the Transfiguration of Jesus. Here are Peter, James and John being led up the mountain by Jesus. Maybe he told them this was part of the mission, or maybe he told them it was just a nice afternoon hike. But whatever the reason for the journey up the mountain, when they got to the top, suddenly Jesus was transfigured before them. He was changed from the inside out, right before their eyes! His hiking clothes and sandals were gone, and instead he was outfitted in dazzling white clothes, whiter than any human could make them. And on top of that, out of nowhere, Elijah and Moses, long dead, showed up and started chatting with Jesus!

Now Peter, James, and John were there on the mountain, watching all of this and trying to make sense of it all, when Peter, bless his heart, blurts out: “Lord! THIS. IS. AWESOME. I will…build three houses! One for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah!”

And at this point the Gospel writer feels compelled to comment: “Peter didn’t know what to say, because they were scared to death.” I can almost hear David Sedaris telling this story, and identifying with poor Peter. Indeed, sometimes things happen and we just don’t know what to do with our faces, or what to say! Sometimes, God amazes us, and like Peter, we just don’t know how to respond.

Perhaps this morning, as you listen to the story of the Transfiguration (and maybe even as you listen to this sermon!) you’re also thinking, “Yeah, sometimes, stuff happens in the Bible and I don’t know how to respond!” The story of the Transfiguration seems especially other-worldly and even outlandish to our modern minds. It stretches us, hearing a story like this and trying to make sense of it. But then, maybe making sense of it isn’t the point! Maybe the Transfiguration of Jesus is about mystery, and how we respond to it. Perhaps this is a moment to consider the many ways God surprises and amazes us, leaving us speechless

You’ve come forward to receive communion every Sunday for years, but then there’s one time when no one has to tell you that Jesus is present in the bread and wine, because you just know.

You’ve seen and held many babies in your life, but then one day, you hold your new grandchild. And suddenly the miracle of God’s creation hits you full force, and the words of Psalm 139 come alive: “For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb.”

And of course you’ve read “The Beatitudes” umpteen times since your Sunday school years, but one day you stop to actually talk to the homeless woman on the corner by Starbucks. And suddenly, “Blessed are the poor” jumps off the page and into real life! Just then, the words of Jesus are transfigured into the person standing before you.

Sometimes, Jesus is transfigured, transformed, and changed before our very eyes—and we don’t know what to do. It happened to me, on the day that Jesus became black.

You see, I always knew Jesus was Swedish. After all, my Grandma Goldie was Swedish, and she seemed to be well-acquainted with him! She also had a painting of Jesus in her living room which removed all doubt. In this picture, Jesus had high cheekbones and a Nordic nose and blue eyes. He looked like most of my relatives. So I knew that even if he was born in Palestine, he must have at least been Swedish-Palestinian.

Jesus remained Swedish until seminary, when I started working at an African-American Lutheran church. On one of my first days there, Pastor Powell showed me a painting in the back of the church—a painting of the Transfiguration, actually—in which Jesus, Peter, James and John all had brown faces. But the painting didn’t always look this way. In fact, it was a new pastor who had changed it many years ago. This pastor, who was from Ghana, took one look at this old Swedish congregation which was now becoming mostly African-American; and then he looked at the painting which featured my familiar Swedish-Palestinian Jesus; and he knew something wasn’t right. He hired an artist to come and transform Jesus, Peter, James and John into black men. The congregation was being transformed into something new, and now this painting would reflect the change.

This was a huge learning moment for me, to see Jesus looking different in a different context. But that wasn’t the day Jesus became black, because at that point I felt Jesus could be black on the South side, and Asian in Chinatown, and could still be Swedish for me and my grandma. It made sense to me that we could paint pictures of Jesus to look just like us—it made sense that Jesus could be all things to all people.

But when you think you’ve made sense of God, or if you have Jesus perfectly figured out, that’s usually a sign God’s about to do something amazing! And then it happened: Jesus really did become black. I was working on a theology paper for class, trying to write about my Christology: in plain language, who I believed Jesus to be. And then it happened: Jesus was transfigured before my very eyes. It happened at the moment when I seriously considered: If Jesus were born today, who would he be? Who would he need to be in the Chicago of today, in order to be disregarded, disrespected, manhandled, maligned and strung up for crucifixion in the same way he was in 1^st Century Palestine?

And the shocking answer was: Jesus would be a black man. And probably in prison!

Sometimes things happen, and we don’t know how to respond. When Jesus became black for me, I truly didn’t know what to do with my face—especially with my white face. It was, and is, challenging to think that Jesus wouldn’t have a big house in the suburbs and a master’s degree in divinity. It’s difficult to think that Jesus wouldn’t look like me, or like my grandma. But Jesus was transfigured, right before my eyes—and as a result he continues to transform me and my faith every day.

Scripture says that Jesus Christ is the same, yesterday, today, and forever. And yet we also know he is both human and divine, both crucified and risen! We proclaim the Good News that Jesus will be with us always, until the end of the age! He shows up again and again in bread and wine, in the waters of baptism, in the fire of the Holy Spirit, and in our neighbor. We are witnesses to the fact that Jesus is always transforming and always showing up where we least expect him. And this can be…disorienting, to say the least. Like Peter, we find our response to be: “Look here, Jesus, I’ll make you a house, so you’ll stay put! Let’s capture this moment, because right now, I know what you look like. Right now, I have a grasp on you, Jesus. If I could just put you in this little house and keep you forever…”

But it doesn’t work like that.

God is amazing! Jesus surprises us. Just when Peter, James and John were used to following him as a great teacher and rabbi, the Son of Man was transfigured and revealed to be the Son of God. Just when the disciples thought Jesus would be the new king, he told them he would soon be arrested and killed. Who could blame them for being tongue-tied? Who could blame Peter for proposing something as ridiculous as a fisherman building three houses on a mountain for Jesus and two dead guys?

But it was at that very moment—at Peter’s “I don’t know what to do with my face” moment, that a cloud overshadowed them, and a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, the beloved. Listen to him!”

And a bit later, as Peter, James and John went down the mountain with Jesus, he said to them, “Don’t tell anyone about this. Don’t talk.”

Listen. Don’t talk. In other words: Don’t just do something. Stand there!

I’ll say it again: Don’t just do something, stand there! When Jesus is transformed before your eyes; when you have a mountaintop moment; when God takes your breath and your words away; when you don’t know what to do with your face—the response God requires is not do anything, but just to stand there. You don’t need to build a house, or come up with a flowery prayer, or make promises you can’t keep. Just stand in the presence of mystery. Stand in the glory of Jesus Christ, crucified and risen, and listen for what he has to say to your life.

This week we enter the season of Lent. As much as we talk about it being an inward journey or a season of reflection and self-examination, very often Lent becomes about doing. What are you giving up? How many miles are going to run? How many days this week do you promise to read the Bible?

But today, we hear the voice from heaven saying, “This is my Son, the beloved. Listen to him!”

This Lenten season, don’t just do something: stand there. God invites you to be in the presence of mystery. May Lent be a time of listening and being, rather than saying and doing. Enter deeply into the story of his arrest and crucifixion by attending the Wednesday evening dramas. Listen to Jesus, God’s beloved Son, who transforms us daily with his grace and mercy.

February 12, 2012: 6th Sunday after Epiphany

February 12, 2012: 6^th Sunday after Epiphany

Mark 1:40-45

Preacher: Pastor Carrie Smith

“Control the Message”

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

On the surface, this morning’s Gospel lesson is a nice, feel-good, healing story. It’s the kind of story that could make the evening news—a human interest piece to counteract all the campaign reports and bickering about the economy. “Leper living on the edge of town gets healed by a stranger and is welcomed home by his family. No sign of the visitor with healing powers. More on the News at 10.”

Indeed, we need this kind of Good News today more than ever, and we give thanks that Jesus is our great healer. Jesus completely healed a man of his leprosy, and in the same way he heals us. Jesus heals our hearts, our grief, our guilt, and our relationships. He is the Balm in Gilead that heals the sin-sick soul. He is the healer of our every ill and the light of each tomorrow. He picks us up, turns us around, and puts our feet back on the ground…and I’m so glad Jesus lifted me! Amen?

But there’s something else going on here. There’s something in this particular scene from Jesus’ mission and ministry that seems…strange. The strange part is right there in verses 43-44, where Jesus, after sternly warning the healed man, sends him away saying, “See that you say nothing to anyone.”

Say nothing to anyone! Keep quiet! But wait…aren’t we to go, baptize, and share the Good News? Aren’t we called to participate in God’s mission to the whole world? What was Global Mission Sunday all about, if we’re not supposed to say anything to anyone about Jesus and his power to heal?

It’s hard to imagine Jesus telling a healed man to keep quiet. But then…maybe Jesus had his reasons.

Maybe, for example, he wanted to control the message.

We may not think of Jesus as a control freak, but these days, I often wish he would do a little more micro-managing. There are times when I wish Jesus had a better publicity team and a solid campaign strategy. He needs someone to work on his campaign playlist, for example. After all, if President Obama gets Al Green and Aretha Franklin, and Mitt Romney gets Kid Rock and Toby Keith, why can’t Jesus update his soundtrack a bit? (Some churches are working on it for him, by the way, holding communion services featuring the music of U2 called…wait for it…a “U2-charist”! And there’s even a church in California that holds a Lady Gaga mass.)

…But I digress.

Playlists and soundtracks aside, what really bugs me is how, when a cable news network wants to include the “Christian” perspective, they call on some guy with a suit and tie from Big Bob’s Better Bible Church or the All-American Anti-Outsider Heritage Society to share his thoughts. It drives me nuts to have my faith represented by people who summarize Jesus’ message in bitter sound bites and political positioning. Every time I hear a TV Christian spouting off about who Jesus hates this week, or how following Jesus can make us rich, or why Jesus, given the choice, would have certainly been an American—I just want to say “Jesus! Get a handle on your publicity! Can’t you do something about these spokespeople? Isn’t it time to hire a new campaign manager? Control the message!”

Considering how badly we’ve been known to mangle the mission and message of Jesus Christ, is it any wonder that he’d want to keep the story under wraps? After all, the stuff Jesus did was perfect fodder for gossip and misunderstanding. He didn’t just heal people—he restored relationships and changed whole communities. When Jesus healed this man’s leprosy, for example, he also re-introduced him to his whole life! As a leper, he had likely been living on the edge of town, cut off from everything he knew and loved—but now, because of Jesus, he was free to go back home, hold a job, and be a part of the community once again. This was such a dramatic life over-haul that Jesus had to have known the guy would want to share the news.

But what would he say? How would the story get re-told by his friends? Would they say Jesus was a quack doctor, selling leprosy potions just outside city limits? Would the authorities come and ask for a permit? This could slow down the mission considerably!

And so, it seems, Jesus tried to control the message, sternly warning the man: “DON’T tell anyone about this. Just go home and make an offering to the priest in your village. That’s it. And no interviews!”

But of course, that’s not what happened. The man couldn’t help himself—he did tell his friends. And then they told someone else. And those folks told their friends. The news about Jesus was like one of those YouTube videos of a cat playing with a dishcloth or a teenage boy riding a Big Wheel off his roof: it went viral! Scripture says “he went out and began to proclaim it freely, and to spread the word, so that Jesus could no longer go into a town openly, but stayed out in the country; and people came to him from every quarter.”

Jesus may have wanted to control the message, but the thing about the Good News of Jesus Christ is this: it’s good news! And news gets around. But the problem is that once the news about Jesus got around, it was harder for him to teach and preach, to heal and restore, because both the crowds and the authorities watched his every move.

A friend told me about seeing Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt in Chicago a few years ago. It seems they wanted to take their kids to the bookstore while in town. But in order to make that happen, the authorities had to close down the street. Then they closed the bookstore and did a security sweep. They then roped off the entrance with those velvety red ropes, and when the Jolie-Pitts family got out of their limousine, they were rushed into the store. All of this so their kids could have the chance to walk among stacks of books, to peruse the selection of Dr. Seuss and Harry Potter, and to experience what most of us would consider to be a normal family activity.

If life is hard for Brad and Angelina, it’s hard to imagine how bad it was for Jesus. He wasn’t just famous—he was infamous. He was infamous because the things he did challenged the status quo, flew in the face of convention, and disrupted the way things used to be. Lepers didn’t come back home, for example. And now, in spite of his attempts to control the message, the word is out—Jesus is a leper-lover.

Writer Anne Lamott wrote: “You can safely assume you've created God in your own image when it turns out that God hates all the same people you do.” And it’s true: We have an awful knack for misinterpreting and misrepresenting the Gospel of Jesus Christ. We use his mission and ministry for our own purposes, shaping his message to fit our agenda. And even when we flock to him, seeking to follow him, looking for healing, we bring our agendas with us. Like the paparazzi crowding around Brad and Angelina, hungry for photos while they are trying be good parents, we come to Jesus assuming we know his purposes.

But time and again, Jesus overwhelms us with his goodness, with his grace, and with his healing. Time and again, even when we come to him with our agendas (and maybe especially then!), Jesus heals and restores us beyond our expectations. It turns out that no matter how we spin it, Jesus’ purposes are always the same. Jesus is always about healing, cleansing, restoring, and making us whole.

The leper who begged for healing received more than he imagined when he was sent back home completely cleansed.

Jairus’ daughter, already thought to be dead, was lifted up by Jesus and sent off to have dinner.

The woman who had a bleeding disorder for twelve years was made well just by touching his coat.

Families are restored, addicts find sobriety, the dying receive peace, and long-held hurts and grudges leave us like the healed man’s leprosy.

But chiefly, we proclaim that the whole world was healed and restored beyond our imagination (and in spite of our agendas), when Jesus Christ, son of God, was sacrificed on the cross for the sake of all.

Like the leper who was cleansed and sent away by Jesus, we too have received new life in Christ. But have you told anyone about it lately? Or are you letting others control the message?

We Lutherans are typically a quiet bunch. We don’t want to seem that we’re pushing our faith on anyone. But the sad result of that silence is that people who need healing remain unwell. Those who linger on the outskirts of society or of polite company never know true welcome and restoration. Those neighbors we don’t want to offend with our “Jesus-talk” wait, just outside the door, for a word of hope or a chance at forgiveness.

What would happen if we shared openly what Jesus has done for us? What would it be like if the story of Jesus’ power to heal and restore—your story, and mine—became the primary voice and face of Christianity today? What if we became Jesus’ new campaign managers, unseating those who would distort the message?

Sisters and brothers, as we approach the season of Lent, I invite you to consider sharing your story as your Lenten discipline. Share the Good News—not so you can grow the church. Not because you love Bethany. But because you love Jesus, and because he’s made a difference in your life. Share your healing story, that others may be healed. Amen.