Grace Upon Grace

This sermon was preached at Grace Lutheran Church (River Forest, IL) on February 8, the Fifth Sunday after Epiphany. You can watch the livestream recording and follow along in the bulletin. The image is the Church of the Beatitudes, the traditional site of the Sermon on the Mount. I took the picture on August 16, 2017.

Sisters and brothers in Christ, grace be unto you and peace in the name God the Father and our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

1. I was away last weekend at a hockey tournament with our daughter, Greta. I am always grateful for such times. It’s an incredible thing to have that one-on-one time with a child, watching them do something they love and seeing them becoming the people they are, the people God made them to be. But I was reminded of something else, too. Hockey stinks. I mean, it’s awesome and wonderful and exciting. But it stinks. Hockey gear is not pleasant to be around. Every time I returned to our hotel room, I was surprised anew by the not-so-fragrant aroma. But within minutes, I had acclimated again. You stop noticing such things after a while, only to be surprised all over again the next time you leave and return. It’s amazing what we can get used to.
2. There’s a lot in the air these days. Some things are hard to miss. Like many of you, I found myself appalled this week when the president posted blatantly racist content to social media – a video since deleted but not apologized for. Depicting Black people in this way taps into the old, old story of racism. To show people as less than human was a good way to support slavery and segregation, and it’s a good way to advance an agenda of hatred today. But it is antithetical to the way of Jesus Christ, and we speak with both condemnation and invitation. Condemnation because such messaging has no proper place in our public discourse. And invitation because the call is to more than crossing the low bar of basic civility. As people of the gospel of Jesus Christ, a gospel that shows no partiality, we invite all those in positions of power and leadership to leave racism and hatred behind forever. Just because it’s in the atmosphere doesn’t mean we should become acclimated.
3. What else have we gotten used to, in the world around us and in our own hearts? As we continue in the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus speaks to his purpose. He has come not to abolish the law and the prophets but to fulfill. Jesus today opens our doors to ourselves with a law that reveals us to be people who have fallen short. God’s law, given to us as gift, teaches us to love God and neighbor. God’s law calls us, as Isaiah tells us today, to stand against injustice and oppression, to work for those who hunger for food and for righteousness. And God’s law makes clear that we have each, in our own particular ways, failed to fully live into God’s ways. I think that sometimes we mistake the message of Jesus as a gospel of tolerance. That because God loves us, God will put up with us and our sin, and therefore anything goes. No. Jesus’ gospel is one of forgiveness. Jesus doesn’t put up with our sin. He puts it away. Takes it to the cross and leaves it in the tomb. You, friends, are sinners. And you, friends, are forgiven, gifted with the righteousness of Christ and transformed by the work of the Holy Spirit. The stench of sin and death is left behind, and a new wind is blowing.
4. So, what is God making you to be? Jesus tells us today. You are the salt of the earth. You are the light of the world. In the world of sin and suffering, injustice and oppression, you are the salt of the earth. You are the ones sent by Jesus to season and preserve with love and hope, with mercy and grace. When this world’s brokenness seems overwhelming, remember that you are salt, and that a little goes a long way. And while Jesus warns against losing your flavor, which happened to salt in his day because it would be mixed with other minerals, it’s also true that salt cannot lost its flavor. Salt remains salt, and you remain a child of God, because that’s what Jesus has made you.
5. As you are salt for the earth, working for the well-being of your neighbors, you are also light for the world. Just as salt does not exist for itself, but to make other things better, so does light not exist for itself but to make things visible. We do good work in this world not for our own glory or prestige, but to make visible the glory and goodness of God. In this world of darkness, goodness knows we need the light. Among the knickknackery and nonsense on my desk is one of my favorite photographs. I love the picture for two reasons. First, because it’s a picture of Erika, and she’s the best. And second, because I took it in the middle of night without using the camera’s flash. We were sitting on our balcony overlooking the Sognefjord in Norway. It was not long past the summer solstice and the sun never really got around to fully setting. As people of the light, the darkness cannot overwhelm us. A flicker or glimmer is enough. The sun does not fully set because the Son is forever raised. Yes, the shadows are long in this world, but you are light. And with light, like salt, a little goes along way.
6. People of God, Jesus has done all that is needful for you. You are forgiven and free. You are salt and light. We cannot fully change the world, but we also need not accept it as it is. We need not acclimate. Called by the covenant of your baptism into the world, fling wide the doors. Air it out. Christ is alive. The Spirit is working. We may have a long way to go, but a little goes a long way. Let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven. Amen.

And now may that peace that passes all understanding keep your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus, this day and forever. Amen.

This sermon was preached at Grace Lutheran Church (River Forest, IL) on January 25, the Third Sunday after Epiphany. You can watch the livestream recording and follow along in the bulletin. The image is of of the chancel at Grace as it looks without the deep-red dossal curtain that is currently out for cleaining.

Sisters and brothers in Christ, grace be unto you and peace in the name God the Father and our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

1. On Wednesday morning, our students arrived for chapel unprepared. They had not been alerted to the dramatic shift in our sanctuary’s appearance. As they noticed the absence of the deep-red dossal curtain, they began to chatter amongst themselves, wondering what this change might mean. A teacher walked past, chuckling, and said, “They seem to be struggling with change.” So, during my homily, I told them that it had been taken out for cleaning and would be back in a few weeks. But I also asked them what they thought about it. One boy raised his hand and said, “I’m glad it’s coming back! When I saw it was gone, I just wanted to cry.” Another hand shot up; the girl to whom it belonged said, “Well, you got my hopes up. I never liked it anyway.” And then another hand, and with it, a question: “Why didn’t you have it cleaned while we were on Christmas break?” Within a few moments, the temporary removal of the dossal curtain had elicited a difficulty with change, diametrically opposed opinions, and a complaint about process. I beamed with pride. We’ve made them into Lutherans!
2. Disagreement in the church is nothing new, of course. Years ago, when I was just starting out, a wise mentor said to me, “When churches run out of real things to disagree about, they’ll turn on each other about the color of the carpet.” Fortunately, I’ve never really found that to be true; or maybe I’ve just always served among people with more important things about which to disagree. Nevertheless, this is nothing new. After his buttering-up of a salutation to the Corinthians, which we heard last week, Paul begins his broadside against his readers. In a letter that will deal with sins ranging from sexual immorality to the abuse of the Lord’s Supper, he begins by disagreeing with their disagreement. How can you, he asks, you who belong to Christ, go around boasting about belonging to Cephas or Apollos or even me, Paul? Are you kidding? Are you fools? Or will you come to your senses and remember that you worship Jesus Christ who was crucified? For it is the crucified Christ alone who is the Lord of the church. And this same Christ, who converted Saul to Paul, who died and was raised for those squabblers in Corinth, who stands before the church today. It is this Jesus who calls to us.
3. Jesus calls to us in the midst of deep division, in both church and world, and it’s not about curtains or carpet. There are those in our nation who espouse Christian nationalism, who seek to use Jesus to prop up their vision of a world where might makes right. The connection is clear in a recent recruiting video in which ICE makes use of Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount – blessed are the peacemakers, it tells us, as we watch footage of glorified violence. In the broken world in which we live, some level of immigration laws are needed. But the current methods of enforcement are cruelty and violence. Yesterday, in Minnesota, Alex Pretti was killed in cold blood by ICE agents. Although the government is doubling down by telling us not to believe the evidence of our own eyes, all the video footage released so far tells a clear story: Alex Pretti was shot multiple times without good reason. Blessed are the peacemakers? The division in the broader church is not an honest difference of opinion; it is a reminder that there are contrasting visions of the gospel and that some of them are wrong. And I know nothing in scripture that tells me that the Jesus we worship is likely to be on the side of a heavily-armed paramilitary force operating against a civilian population.
4. Where do we go from here? Things are never as hopeless as they seem. Isaiah, writing in a time of violent upheaval, reminds the people of God’s decisive victory on the day of Midian. What is the day of Midian? I’m so glad you asked! During the time of the Judges, Gideon’s force faced overwhelming odds against the Midianite army. But instead of reinforcing Gideon’s army, God reduces it. Left with only 300 men, Gideon sends them against their enemy with torches, trumpets, and clay jars. With light and crashing sound, they terrify the Midianites, who turn in terror upon each other, engulfed and defeated by their own violence. As God acted in the past, Isaiah promises, so will God act in the future. But the force of 300 is reduced further. Now only One comes forth, and he brings nothing to the fight except grace and mercy, forgiveness and love, and a nonviolent willingness to lay down his life for his enemies. Jesus will go to the cross and to his death. In taking his life, the forces of sin and hate and violence and evil and death will devour themselves. Such forces cannot give life, and will always lead to their own end, whatever damage they create along the way. We worship the God of Gideon, and we do so by following the ways of Jesus. His cross may look foolish to this world’s powers, but we know it is our salvation.
5. This Jesus stands before us, fresh off his victory over Satan in the wilderness. His first word? Repent! Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near. Turn, peoples and nations, from your wanton ways and seek now the ways of peace – not a cheap peace that goes along to get along but the real peace of God in which life can flourish for all. To follow Jesus will cost us everything, as Dietrich Bonhoeffer knew well. Living under the Nazi regime, in 1937 he wrote, “When Christ calls a [person], he bids [them] come and die.” In Christ, we meet our end. But we also meet our beginning, the new life that comes only from Jesus. Where once we were entangled in the nets of sin and violence, now we are caught Up in the reign of peace and love. Caught up in peace and love – not wishy-washy emotions but powerful forces that can and will one day have the last word over sin and death.
6. What does this discipleship look like? For Andrew and Peter, James and John, it looked like dropping everything, trading one set of nets for another. For 100 or so clergy in Minnesota on Friday, it looked like putting their bodies on the line while publicly praying, being willing to be arrested as peaceful witnesses against ICE and state-sanctioned violence. What will it look like for us in these days? I don’t know that we fully know yet. I pray we will be faithful. I know Christ will be faithful to us, and to all who take up the witness of his cross. For this is the gospel: When the people sit in darkness, in the region and shadow of death, the great light of Christ will shine forth all the brighter. However long seems the night, dawn is coming. Christ who was dead is alive. Your sins are forgiven and you are alive. Live now in freedom and light. Never mind the dossal curtain; the temple curtain is torn, and nothing can stop the light shining through. Jesus is calling. Will you follow him? On my own, I’m not always so sure. But I’m not on my own, and neither are you. Together, Christ, we follow you. Amen.

And now may that peace that passes all understanding keep your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus, this day and forever. Amen.

This sermon was preached at Grace Lutheran Church (River Forest, IL) on January 18, the Second Sunday after Epiphany. You can view the livestream recording and follow along in the bulletin. The image is San Juan Bautista by Francisco de Zurbarán (circa 1638-1639, public domain).

Sisters and brothers in Christ, grace be unto you and peace in the name God the Father and our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

1. Did you see that? With three kids and only two of us, Erika and I are often not in the same place, and we are often missing out on what one or another of the kids is up to. While it is not quite the same as being there, we find ourselves resorting to the next best thing, zipping photos and videos of this hockey game or that band concert to one another. Did you see that? Just yesterday, I found myself suit shopping with Anders, who is somehow almost done with middle school at Grace and is therefore in need of a new suit for eighth grade pictures and graduation. While I do trust my impeccable sartorial instincts, I nevertheless texted his mother a photo before buying. Just to make sure. Of course, there was a time before cell phones. Remember that? On McArthur St., where I grew in Appleton, WI, there were lots of kids around my age, and we were all obsessed with sports. We’d be watching this or that game in our own homes, but when something remarkable happened – Kirk Gibson’s walk-off homer, Doug Flutie’s Hail Mary, George Brett’s pine tar histrionics, some team from Chicago winning the Super Bowl – we’d run outside simultaneously, asking each other a question to which we already knew the answer: Did you see that? You bet we did. And not only did we see it, we had a deep-seated need to share the moment with one another. Seeing isn’t enough. It’s seeing and sharing that marks and makes the moment.
2. It is this sort of invitation, this epiphanic sharing, that ripples out today after Jesus leaves the waters of the Jordan and returns to dry land. First, twice, we hear the Baptist’s cry: Look, here is the Lamb of God! Then, as Andrew and another disciple leave John to follow Jesus, they discover another truth: Jesus is the Messiah, God’s Anointed, the One who will restore God’s reign in and over this world. These early professions of faith – Lamb of God, Messiah – point with incredible clarity to Jesus’ purpose and identity, evocative as they are of the history, hopes, and expectations of their people. But one wonders if John, Andrew, and those to whom they spoke, including Simon Peter, truly grasped the meaning of the words coming out of their mouths. Whatever their understanding, their confession of faith, even at this early stage, is remarkable. They are pointing away from themselves to Jesus. He alone is the Lamb of God. They are pointing away from all others who might pretend to such a position. Jesus alone is Messiah. And they are pointing away from all that would seek to hurt and harm them – from their own sin to the oppressive empire – and professing the hope that God is doing a new thing. Are you looking for hope, something that will help you finally lift your eyes up from drudgery, despair, desolation? Looking for something – someone – who will meet your gaze in return? Come and see.
3. Our eyes, however, are haunted by visions unwanted. The same technology that helps Erika and I share images of our children enables us to see anywhere in the world. And while I am by no means suggesting that we shouldn’t be watching, these images sometimes threaten to overwhelm us. From the scenes on the streets of Minneapolis to those on the streets of Tehran, we are reminded that there is so much that is so wrong in this world. Such scenes emerge for different reasons, of course, and are vastly different, but we are reminded of worldly truths. That power is rarely benevolent. That sin is rampant and life valued too little Do we dare look up? Do we dare to hope? Do we, as one of you asked this morning, even have the strength to get out of bed in the morning?
4. We do, if our gaze rests upon Jesus. Tomorrow, our nation will pause to honor the memory of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Dr. King reminds us to point away from ourselves. He was more than an activist. He was a proclaimer of the truth, a pointer toward hope, a signal showing forth the hope of this world. In a sermon more memorable than this one, “The Drum Major Instinct,” Dr King preaches: “Nineteen centuries have come and gone and today [Jesus] stands as the most influential figure that ever entered human history. All of the armies that ever marched, all the navies that ever sailed, all the parliaments that ever sat, and all the kings that ever reigned put together have not affected [life] on earth as much as that one solitary one” in whom “we can make of this old world a new world.” Dr. King reminds us, calls us, in the midst of all that would seek to beat us down or steal our hope, to look to Jesus. We look to Jesus and we see God come to earth. This God, Dr. King proclaims, “is not a weak God, He is not an incompetent God and consequently He is able to beat back gigantic mountains of opposition and to bring low prodigious hill tops of evil. The ringing cry of the Christian faith is that our God is able.”
5. How? Come and see. Jesus defeats sin and death itself by first climbing the lonely hilltop Calvary’s evil. Behold the Lamb of God! Faced with death on Moriah, God gave a ram in Isaac’s place. Heavy laden with sin, God provided a scapegoat each Day of Atonement, that the people would find another year of forgiveness. From the lamb of Nathan’s parable for David to the Servant Song’s lamb that goes silent to the slaughter, John’s profession of faith evokes a rich tapestry of images, of the many and various ways God stands in the gap for us. But none is more powerful than the communal meal eaten by a fearful people in haste on their last night in Egypt. Taking a young, unblemished lamb, the people found nourishment for their flight to freedom and hope for the future. Marked by the blood, their homes became gateways to freedom. And so, as he goes willingly to the cross, Jesus – unblemished, legs unbroken – gives his own blood and becomes the lifeblood of this world. In this feast, we are reminded once more of the lengths to which our God would go to save us. Our Good Shepherd is the Lamb of God, who lays down his life for the sheep. Come and see this Messiah who makes a way to life and freedom, who frees us to work for life for all in this world, trusting that our life in the world to come is held irrevocably in God’s hands. Our lives and been caught up in the ripples from the Jordon, baptized into his death and resurrection, into the great Passover from death to life.
6. Of course, in our reading today it’s still early in the story. Can this all be true? Has Jesus really come for this? With Andrew and the other disciple, we ask, “Where are you staying, Jesus?” It turns out, he’s staying with us. Or as he’ll say later, he abides. Jesus has come to make God’s home with us. The sin of the world is real, but it is also already defeated. Hang in there, for Christ is with you. As the psalmist sings, God will lift you up from the pit again. Keep working, for you are already forgiven and free. What might God Jesus do through you? Drawn together in Christ, come and see. Amen.

And now may that peace that passes all understanding keep your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus, this day and forever. Amen.

This sermon was preached on New Year’s Eve at Grace Lutheran Church (River Forest, IL). You can watch the livestream recording and follow along in the bulletin. The cantata, BWV 28, was wonderful. The picture of a goat is used with permission.

Sisters and brothers in Christ, grace be unto you and peace in the name God the Father and our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

1. When I first saw which cantata would be part of our New Year’s Eve worship this evening, I thought, yeah, that’s appropriate. I though Bach, or more to the point, Pastor Neumeister, our librettist, had really tapped into my feelings about the whole thing. But that was because I was misreading it. I thought the cantata was titled, “Praise God! Now the year comes to an end,” as in, “Good riddance, thank God that’s over.” I imagined a litany of misfortune, a droning dirge to march us out of this year. A year in which so much has been fraught, so challenging, so difficult. I was a bit surprised to discover that Bach and Neumeister meant what they said: Praise God! The soprano calls us to think on how much God has done for you over the past year, to delight in how much God will do for you yet. If we, at times, have a hard time looking back and not focusing on the bad, we gather tonight to remind be reminded that our God is faithful and good; that God has not failed us yet. That while there are disasters and disappointments, God is with us even in these things.
2. This does not mean, of course, that we shouldn’t also look about with honesty about all that was not well this year. But instead of reflecting upon all ways in which other people fell short, did wrong, or generally weren’t too our liking, Jesus holds up a mirror so that we might do some self-reflecting. In his last parable, spoken days before his own death, Jesus tells of the last judgment. All people shall be separated into two groups, sheep and goats, based on how they have treated Jesus. Not Jesus as he shows up in himself, but Jesus as he is present in others. Specifically, Jesus as he appears in the hungry, the thirsty, the stranger, the naked, the sick, the imprisoned. Those who have shown love and care to these least of these shall be welcomed into the eternal Kingdom. Those who didn’t? Well, that’s what hell is for, and if you didn’t care for the least of these, you can look forward to an eternity with the devil and his angels.
3. On first glance, this seems, well, okay, for me? I mean, sometimes I feed the hungry and welcome the stranger. I’ve even visited people in prison. I mean, I probably do these things more than some of you, you old goats. Won’t I be a wooly sheep? But the hard reality of the matter sets in. However many times I have done these things pales in comparison with how many times I haven’t. And the same, dear friends, is true for you. Jesus isn’t grading on a curve. You have all sinned and fallen short of the glory of God. Full stop. Do you know how I know? Because the last time I checked, we still allow ourselves to live in a world in which there are people who are hungry and thirsty and naked and sick and in prison. We still allow this world’s least to stay least. I will make special note of the stranger Jesus mentions. Who are they? The New Testament scholar Mark Allal Powell points out that the word is xenos, meaning “foreigner” or “noncitizen.” “It is,” Powell writes, “the term that today would be used to refer to an ‘undocumented immigrant.’” Powell continues, with what I consider a fair amount of understatement, “Modern Americans may take note of this when reflecting on the circumstances of noncitizens in the United States.” Indeed. It would be foolish to imagine that Jesus has an exact immigration policy in mind. The matter is complex. But make no mistake: When Jesus speaks of those among whom he is to be found and about whom we should deeply care, Jesus includes people without documentation and status. We don’t get to not care about them. We don’t get to pretend they are worth less than us. That is the sort of thing that leads to condemnation.
4. So, goats. How are we doing? Perhaps wishing we’d skipped this service and started in on the champaign a bit earlier? Is there no good news at the end of this not-so-good year? As mentioned, Jesus will shortly be crucified. Yes, the Son of Man finds us all wanting. Goats, every last one of us. But the Son is also the Shepherd, and the Shepherd is still good. So Jesus, who actually spent his life welcoming and caring for the least of these, goes to the cross for the sake of those who have fallen short. He takes our sin with him and leaves it in the tomb. When he emerges, alive, the sin remains behind. For the sake of the Good Shepherd who is the Lamb of God, the goats become sheep. We have been baaaaaptized into Jesus’ death and resurrection, covered with the wooly righteous of Christ forever. Christ stands in our place, and we receive life, abundant and eternal.
5. It is amazing to think on how far God would go for our salvation. The Episcopal priest and chef Robert Farrar Capon writes, if this “is in one way the heaviest, more fear-inspiring parable of all, it is also the lightest, the last laugh of the mighty act of salvation.” It is, he writes, “the Three Stooges working only for laughs. God isn’t trying to hurt anyone; [God’s] not even mad at anyone. There are no lengths to which [God] won’t go to prove there are no restrictions on the joy [God] wants to share with us. If you were never afraid of Curly, Larry, and Moe, you don’t need to be afraid of the Trinity either.”
6. Of course, Jesus means what he says. If, after finding him here for you in Word and sacrament, you’re still looking for Jesus, he tells you were he’ll be. In the person and in the needs of the hungry and thirsty, the stranger and naked, the sick and imprisoned. Just because God isn’t planning on casting you into the eternal fire doesn’t mean God doesn’t want you to help people. Shall we continue in sin that grace may abound? By no means! So, get after it. The sins of this year are forgiven. You are free for the future God intends. You’re not goats anymore; you’re sheep. Act like it. And trust God to work it out. After all, as Pastor Neumeister teaches us to pray: “Give us a peaceful year / Spare us from all suffering / And nourish us gently.” There is no doubt that the coming year will have both the good and the baaaaaad, and so shall it be year after year until this old world gives way to the new heaven and the new earth. The Shepherd will be with you all the way. Praise God for the year that was. Praise God for the year that will be. Amen. Happy New Year!

And now may that peace that passes all understanding keep your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus, this day and forever. Amen.