Uncharacteristic

This is my third sermon preached for Hope Lutheran Church in Saint Paul, but because of the Covid-19 pandemic, I preached it in my bedroom via video call. 

Gospel: John 2: 13-22

Grace and Peace to you, from God our loving Creator, and from our Wandering Savior Jesus the Christ, Amen

I love Lent. I’ve probably started a few of my lenten sermons like that, but I like to just point that out, so that you know what you’re getting into. In non-pandemic times, Lent usually denotes flowing minor tones in and throughout the music and liturgy, with a sense of somber self-reflection and silence in the louder parts of your life. Sometimes people either give up or add a practice to their lives during this time. I tried to do both, give up video games and add more reading of books… but that didn’t happen for longer than a week or so. So much for good intentions. 

I love Lent, and I also love this Gospel text. Pastor Andrew graciously offered for me to preach at some point this spring, and this Sunday worked best in my schedule, so it just so happened that the text I was to preach on is one of my favorites. Why, might you ask? Because there’s something about the uncharacteristic Jesus texts that really intrigue me. I call them uncharacteristic, because Jesus tossing tables and grabbing a whip is not a story we readily think about when we think about Jesus’ ministry. Neither is the story of Jesus going to Nazareth and being almost thrown off a cliff, or the time Jesus calls a woman a dog, or curses a fig tree… These stories show a different side of Jesus other than the healing feeding and teaching Jesus we’re used to seeing. 

But maybe being uncharacteristic is the point. This version of the story, in John, is the only version where Jesus fashions a whip to drive out the animals. It’s the only time where Jesus displays physical violence to prove a point. In this version, it’s told in a way that the author tells you the end of the Jesus narrative, in the second chapter no less, just in case the audience didn’t know the end of the story. 

In a full year of uncharacteristic realities, who knew that I could and would be preaching for you without driving the four hours to do so, but sit in my bedroom at home. That we as a planet would figure out how to do the normal things we usually would do, differently. But here we are, still engaging in the life of the congregation, just… differently. 

Jesus entered the temple with the disciples at Passover, to see the moneychangers and the animals milling about, and he chases out the animals with the whip and tosses the tables of the moneychangers on the ground. The temple devoted to God, was being utilized for practices that were meant to be elsewhere, outside of a temple of worship. This story happens, narratively, after the wedding at Cana, where abundance is shared with the turning of water into wine. In a turn of events, the abundance of the Temple is squandered for the sake of the moneychangers and the people selling the animals, and Jesus moves from a person showcasing abundant Grace, to laying down the law in the smashing tables. In this literal turning of the tables, is this the same Jesus that we’re used to reading about? The same Jesus that just turned water into wine? Is your view of Jesus the same at the wedding as it is at this moment?

In a recent episode of the Disney Plus show, WandaVision, two of the characters are discussing the Ship of Theseus. The Ship of Theseus is a philosophical exercise, in which one of the characters describes the issue: “The Ship of Theseus is an artifact in a museum. Over time, its planks of wood rot and are replaced with new planks. When no original plank remains is it still the Ship of Theseus?” Is a church still the church you understand it to be, if everything about the church is removed and replaced, is it still the same church?

If you were to contain your knowledge of Jesus to the Gospel of John just before this story - Jesus is introduced as the Word, God, and Grace upon Grace. Jesus has pointed to John the Baptizer, called the disciples and turned the water into wine, all relatively the same as the traditional view of Jesus. Now expanding to the rest of the Gospels, and barring the Nativity and Passion, if your understanding of Jesus is one of a loving Savior who feeds the hungry, heals the sick and clothes the naked - does this uncharacteristic story of a violent Jesus tossing tables change your understanding of Jesus? Does it change your faith in Jesus? If you were one of the disciples that Jesus just called a few weeks prior, would it change your view of Jesus?

Back to WandaVision, the character continues, “Secondly, if those removed planks [of the ship] are restored and reassembled, free of the rot, is that the Ship of Theseus?” At Luther Seminary, there’s an old log church that sits adjacent to campus, called Old Muskego, named after the town where it was originally built. The church was disassembled and moved from rural Wisconsin to where it sits now, to be rebuilt for Luther Seminary. Is it the same church it was in rural Wisconsin? 

A year ago, we had our first case of Covid-19 in Minnesota, and things soon shut down, with the hope that if we shut everything down, we’d be better off after a few weeks. A year later, with over 6,500 Covid deaths in this state alone, with over half a million dead across the country, we’ve suffered greatly, while also learning a great deal about this virus, our country and our neighbors. We’ve had to adapt - wearing masks when we’re out, staying at least six feet away from other people, staying away from loved ones and friends for everybody’s health and safety, and learned to live with constant anxiety from this horrific virus. But with over a million Minnesotans vaccinated already, and thousands of Minnesotans being vaccinated everyday, the light at the end of the tunnel is getting closer and closer. Are we the same people that we were a year ago? Have we learned anything personally, communally, because of this pandemic? 

Finally, the world watches Minnesota this week, specifically the Derek Chauvin trial, to see if we have learned anything about racial justice and police reform. When the world erupted in some of the largest, most populous and most racially diverse protests in history last May, there was a collective understanding that maybe the murder of George Floyd was the catalyst that would propel us to understand our Black neighbors better. Maybe our relationship to policing would be different, maybe our commitment to racial justice would be better. Are we the same people that heard how Breonna Taylor was murdered in her home in February of last year and didn’t erupt until George Floyd was filmed for over eight minutes while he was dying? If we feel we have significantly changed in our attitudes toward racial justice and policing, is that enough? Is it enough to be changed personally, if we don’t change our ways communally? 

Jesus sees the marketplace chaos in the Temple, and erupts, kicking tables and chasing animals and dumping money everywhere. Buildings burned in Minneapolis, with communities on edge for the outcome of this trial for the potential of more burning. Was Jesus’ relationship with the Holy, the disciples, the people of the day, the same as it was before the eruption in the Temple? Is our relationship with the Holy, the people among us, God in the Flesh, different than we were a year ago? Are we the same people, in all that has happened, that we were a year ago? Is the Ship of Theseus the same vessel before and after the repairs and replacements? 

Jesus was both the Savior of healingfeedingteachingclothingserving, but also the Savior that knocked tables over and cursed trees. Jesus was the same Messiah who was born in uncharacteristic circumstances for a King, and nailed to a cross with a crown like a King. Jesus was the same kicker of tables as the griever of friends. The refugee and the hope for refugees. The wanderer and the leader. The Gospel and the Law. The Word and Son of God. The Grace and Love and Mercy of God. 

We can be the same person we were before. We are the same people we were before. But we are also forever different, forever changed, forever the original ship and the rebuilt ship. It’s the question of what we do with this knowledge that we have gained over the last year. Do we continue to spin the wheels, or do we correct the injustices that this last year has laid bare? What can we do personally, communally? In this season, my favorite season of Lent, what collective ponderings will remind us of who we are, but also who we can grow into? 

I invite you to be uncharacteristic in your life this Lent. We await and pray for justice. Together with our neighbors, we await the Passion of the coming days. 

God’s got this. 

Amen.

Stillness

This was my tenth time preaching at Faith Lutheran in Bagley, on 08/09/20, and the second time preaching during the Covid-19 pandemic. 

Gospel: Matthew 14:22-33

Grace and Peace to you, from God Our Loving Creator, and from the Calmer of Our Rough Seas, Jesus the Christ, Amen. 

Last week, I stood up here and preached about Jesus feeding the multitudes and how that was an example of Grace in Action. I realized that after I wrote and preached the sermon that I neglected to say anything about the passing of Congressman John Lewis, and how his leadership during and after the Civil Rights Movement was a perfect example of Grace in Action. Getting in “good trouble” by leading sit-ins at segregated lunch counters, leading the people across the Edmund Pettus bridge to vote in Selma, Alabama and helping to lead the March on Washington, were lessons learned from his upbringing in the Church. He represented the people of Atlanta in Congress for many years in the United States Congress, and was a tireless advocate for Black and other marginalized people until he died. Showing God’s Grace to all in his advocacy and leadership, and living out his call as a Christian to make the world a better place for all. So that all may return to calm waters and a steady boat. 

There’s something to be said about a mostly empty and unlit sanctuary. Even before most sanctuaries around the world were forced to be unlit and emptied; have you ever stood in the silence of an empty sanctuary, and just taken it in? My mother worked at a church when I grew up, and there were days and afternoons that my brothers and I were left to our own devices in the church waiting for her to finish working. First Lutheran in Morris, MN is one of those churches that has a large sanctuary built in the 1920s like an upside down boat, and a large organ in the back. It has long pews and a center aisle, and floorboards that creak when you walk on them, and acoustics that resonate with the exposed wood rafters. I would sometimes sit in the front pew, and just, absorb the stillness. 

Then when I was on my pastoral internship, I would arrive at Zion Lutheran in Amor earlier than the secretary, and begin the morning kneeling at the altar rail in the empty sanctuary, praying for my day and other pressing needs. That sanctuary was built in the outline of a grain elevator, but much newer than the sanctuary of my younger days. Why am I telling you all this? Because there’s something to be said for the view from this pulpit, in this moment. In this sanctuary, with the large stained glass windows behind me, the long empty pews and the empty center aisle, the fellowship hall waiting to be used again… 

I can see why people want to be here again. It has been too long since pews and fellowship halls were brimming with people, and at the same time, they have to stay empty. Stillness must remain.  

Jesus again this week found refuge in getting away from the people. Jesus leaves the disciples to go up on a mountain, and the disciples get into the boat to wait for the Messiah. Jesus stays up on the mountain all night, and in the early morning, ventures out to join the disciples. Seeing a figure, and assuming a ghost, they get frightened, but Jesus tells them to “take heart” and “do not be afraid”. Peter decides to join Jesus out in the water, and begins to walk on the water with Jesus. In the three Gospels that this story happens, this is the only version that involves Peter getting out of the boat. Feeling the strong wind, he was suddenly reminded that he was miraculously walking on the water, and became scared. Remember the old cartoons, where the roadrunner was running across a cliff, and he keeps running into the air and the coyote follows him, all the way... until he looks down. Then the coyote falls, but not the roadrunner. It’s not until you realize that you should be falling, that you begin to fall. 

As soon as Peter realizes he should be “in” the water and not “on” the water, he begins to sink like the rock that he is, and reaches out for Jesus. Jesus “immediately” catches him. “Oh Ye, of little faith.” or “You of little faith”, Jesus says to Peter, and by extension, us. Jesus climbs into the boat with the disciples, and the waters calm. Stillness has returned to the world. 

The waves are rocking our world, friends. With all the euphemisms that the news have used over the last five months, this is the worst it’s been and it continues to get worse. Clearwater County seems sheltered from this storm a little bit, with coronavirus case numbers a fraction of what they are in neighboring counties. But it is still affected in so many other ways, this empty sanctuary a glaring example. When the boats of our lives are rocking, all we want is stability, a return to stillness. We do what we can to maintain the stability, so we don’t capsize. But there are moments when the waves become unbearable, when the strong wind becomes noticeable and we begin to sink. Jesus is always there to catch us when we fall. The stability of Jesus, the Good News, the Calmer of Our Rough Seas, is and will always be there to catch us. 

When I gaze out into this empty sanctuary, I miss those Sunday mornings that I was able to see you and preach and worship alongside you. Fumble through a different liturgy with you.  I'm sure Pastor Mark misses being with you as well. I'm sure every pastor misses being with their flock. But you know what else I see when I look out here? Stillness. Calm. Safety. 

"Do not be afraid", our Savior says. There will be a time when we come out of this pandemic. There will be life after Covid. What that will look like, we won't know until we get there, but it'll probably be a lot different for the people who survive infection, those who manage to not get infected, and the families of the millions of people who have and will experience loss during it. 

So for now, this empty sanctuary is a complicated space of memory and safety. Of wishful thinking and stillness. But it's also a reminder of why we're Church in the first place. Why it's a sanctuary... in the first place. This is a place, an identity for people. This is where baptisms, first communions, confirmations, weddings, celebrations and funerals happen. But they happen for the people that inhabit it. And the people are best served when we're as safe as we can be. 

This is the stillness of the boat. This empty sanctuary will carry this congregation until it's time to get out of the boat. Because there will come a day, when, like Peter, we need to get out of the boat and get to work. The work of the people. 

The work of the people that professes that Christ is our Savior from Our Rough Waters, the Savior that saves us all from ourselves through the Compassion, Grace, Love, and Mercy of God. The work of the people that puts that Grace into Action and serves neighbors alongside them for the betterment of us all. The work of the people that, in the words of the late John Lewis, gets us into "good trouble".

There will be times when we fall, and realize it's hard work and the wind is at our back… but that is when our Savior will pick us back up. John Lewis didn’t set out to do all the things he did for some sense of personal gain or glory, but for the people around him. He stood up when others couldn’t. He withstood beatings and arrests to stand up for what’s right, because the same Christ that we profess called him and every one of us to get into “good trouble” for our neighbors. 

For now, seek out the stillness whenever you can, because the waters are rough out there. While there is plenty to fear in the world, know that Jesus is beside you, always right there when we fall, telling us to not fear, but have faith and take heart that God’s got this. 

Amen

Pandemic Bread

This is my 9th sermon preached at Faith Lutheran in Bagley, and the first time I preached since Minnesota started dealing with the Covid-19 pandemic. In a mostly-empty and dark sanctuary, it was nice to be in the pulpit once again. 

Gospel: Matthew 14:13-21

Grace and Peace to you from God our Loving Provider, and the Food For All Who Are Hungry, Jesus the Christ, Amen

It's been a while, friends. And what a time it's been. Times of a horrific global pandemic, social upheaval and tremendous uncertainty about the world, we find ourselves in a familiar and life-giving Gospel text. It doesn't start out that way, however. It's probably because the scholars who developed the Revised Common Lectionary were focused on a Northern Hemisphere audience, but it’s kinda fun how some of these texts line up with summer. This text, and a few others this summer begin with a note about Jesus wanting to retreat away from the crowds. Jesus was busy and popular and people wanted to hear the Messiah speak. For good reasons, of course, but Jesus would need time away, and attempt to find rest. While seemingly never getting it for long, even when he finally goes off into a boat and a storm brews, but that’s another sermon for another day. 

This time, Jesus wants to socially distance from the people because in the passage just before this, he learned of his cousin John the Baptizer’s brutal death. He was probably exhausted from the grief and the people, and needed time away. Now and again, people need time away from the world, especially these days. Some may receive it. There are so many stories from the last few months of healthcare workers working nonstop since March, day in and day out, to combat the Covid-19 virus. They surely need rest from the unfathomable stress. We can hope that the mask wearing measures help slow the spread of this horrific disease, allowing essential workers the time and space for rest. 

So after resting for seemingly not long enough, Jesus returns to the shore where a crowd of sick and hungry people have gathered. Jesus cures their sick. That simple statement is life-giving in a time of pandemic. The disciples ask if the hungry people should leave, so they could find food on their own in the city. Jesus says that they should stay, and that they will be fed. Seeing a couple loaves of bread and some fish, the disciples weren’t sure how the crowd of over five thousand people would be fed with so little food. 

Jesus sees the sick people, and cures them. Jesus sees the hungry people, and feeds them. With very little food. Jesus sees the problem, and jumps into action. Taking what little resources they had, Jesus gave the people what they needed, and at the end, when everyone was full, they still had leftovers. 

I feel like many of us may be feeling like all we have to offer the world is a small pile of food. Maybe our work has increased so we’re at wit’s end with too much stress, or maybe just the opposite. Maybe some of us haven’t had much for work because of the pandemic, and we’re still at wit’s end trying to make ends meet. For so many Americans, rent was due this week, and with an end of the federal moratorium of evictions, I wonder how many Americans will end up on the streets? I wonder how many people in this area, this state, this country, who have lived by the skin of their teeth, and the pandemic was the straw that broke the camel’s back? How many metaphors and idioms can I use to exemplify that this Covid-19 pandemic has destroyed the lives of millions of Americans, putting so many people in the same place as the people in the Gospel: Tired, sick, and hungry, and desperate to hear a word of Good News from our Savior. 

For Black, Indigenous and People of Color, for people with disabilities, people with health problems, and people living in poverty… this pandemic has exacerbated every social and economic problem. The protests that have been happening since this spring have shown the power of protest in the pursuit of justice for George Floyd, but we still await justice for Breonna Taylor and Tony McDade and too many others like them. 

People have been left with a hunger for justice, a need for social change, and a will to enact that change. Leadership with Grace in action like Jesus shows in our Gospel lesson, is the catalyst that we need to maintain the energy of this social change. Compassion, Grace, and Mercy are so desperately needed in this world. Putting that Grace into action is desperately needed right now. 

Even when likely grieved by the death of John the Baptizer, Jesus returns from rest with a desire to help all who need it. The people are sick, and Jesus cures them. Without asking why or how or how they'll pay for it, the problem is solved. When the disciples try to solve the problem of a hungry crowd by asking if they can send the crowd away, Jesus takes what limited resources there are and feeds the people, solving the issue at hand. Jesus shows Compassion, Grace, and Mercy, when the disciples would rather the people figure it out for themselves. 

Grace in action is what was needed then, and what is needed now. Grace is the daily bread that each of us need, what each of us pray for in the Lord’s Prayer, and what the world needs to get back on track. Last year about this time, I preached a sermon about our need for daily bread, and what that daily bread looks like. Daily bread is the basic necessities that we need to survive every day, and the sources that provide them. Without our daily bread, our lives are unfulfilled, and we cannot live our lives for very long in need of our basic needs. With the current state of the world, those realities are far too common for millions of people in this country. The need for Grace in action is abundant. 

Jesus feeding the multitudes with limited resources is Grace in action. Local schools providing thousands of meals per week to families in need is Grace in action. Local organizations providing grants to businesses and families is Grace in action. When we are able to ensure our neighbors have their daily bread, that is Grace in action, and what we are all called to do. Because Jesus feeding the multitudes with limited resources exemplifies for us all what each of us is called to do - whatever we can with whatever resources we have available - love one another, and show that love by ensuring we all have our daily bread. 

Even if all you have is a little, Jesus shows us that we can serve one another by sharing what we have for the betterment of others. A young family with little ones used to go to different churches in the area based on whether or not the church had a potluck. Because even if it was one meal out of the week, the family could spend what little they had on a bag of chips, a pan of bars, a bag of buns, and share it with the community and eat with their neighbors while sharing a meal in which many people contributed. They may not have had enough to pay for an entire meal for their family, but they were able to contribute to the potluck so that many people could benefit from their limited resources. 

When we’re able to use whatever resources, energy, or willpower for the betterment of our neighbors - we’re living into our call to serve one another, as Jesus the Christ routinely shows us in the Gospels. This same Jesus that came from humble beginnings, lived a life of preaching, teaching, healing, feeding and serving the people, and died on a cross - all the while saving us all from ourselves, to live again with us, by the Grace, Love and Mercy of God. 

We are all called to love and serve our neighbors. Jesus exemplified this calling by leading and showing the disciples how to solve the problems of sickness and hunger. Cure the sick and feed the hungry. Those are the mandates that Jesus exemplifies. Leadership through Grace in action for this ever-changing world is desperately needed, and the problems are only getting worse. Cases of Covid-19 are rising across the country, with hopeful new ways of treating it, but also with implementation of a vaccine many months away. According to data collected for Second Harvest Heartland, before the pandemic, 1 in 11 Minnesotans were facing food insecurity. They are now predicting that the number will be closer to 1 in 8 Minnesotans facing food insecurity next month. 

And all ate and were filled; and they took up what was left over of the broken pieces, twelve baskets full. (Matthew 14:20 NRSV) 

Whenever and however we come out of this season of pandemic, I hope that on the other side of it, we get to a place where people are filled with their daily bread, and we have plenty of leftovers, so that future generations may have their fill as well. 

Amen. 

Video of the service - 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b7eyP-wYamo

Come and See

This was my seventh time preaching at Bemidji United Methodist, thankfully two weeks in a row. I liked being able to reference the sermon I had just preached the previous week. One day I'll be able to do that more often. One day.

Gospel: John 1:29-42



Grace and Peace to you from God our Creator, and from our Lord and Savior Jesus the Christ, Amen

Today's Gospel is one of those TV episode lessons, where it starts off with a recap of information you already know, just maybe forgot some of the details. "Last time on the Story of John the Baptist”... And then goes on to tell a different story with keeping the context of the previous story in your mind. In the Gospel of John, there is no play by play of Jesus' baptism as there was in last week's Gospel lesson. It's just a, when this happened… kinda thing. And then it moves on to the main story.

In this era of movies and shows, there seems to be a theme of sequels and remakes and adaptations with an air of, “remember when this happened?” With the never ending saga of Star Wars coming to a momentary close, the Marvel Cinematic Universe moving on from their 22nd movie, Star Trek seeing a resurgence with a new show debuting this week, Disney remaking all kinds of their movies into live-action movies, James Bond comes back this spring, and everything that makes a ton of money at the box office are these types of movies. So studios pump them out.

And movies are a great escape from the goings on of present realities, until you start to unravel that certain characters seem similar to current political figures. Certain situations seem similar to current events. Certain realities seem very similar to current realities.

And pretty soon, the movie or show that you’re watching comes into a little more focus. The point of the story, after you get settled and reacquainted with that information that you already knew, comes to fruition. Suddenly the Star Trek movie about going back in time to save the present, turns into an environmental movie about saving the whales. Or the Star Wars movie (but let’s face it, pretty much every Star Wars movie) ends up being how the world powers that want control get overturned by people from all corners of the known universe when they form together a resistance to eventually win the day.

Or when the Gospel writer explains John the Baptizer’s role in Jesus’ baptism, and then suddenly the lesson becomes a story about Jesus calling the first disciples. “Come and See” Jesus says. As an invitation to the disciples in that moment, but also to the reader. What’s this story all about? Who is this Jesus anyway? “Come and See” Jesus says.

Last week, I preached about our Christian identity being rooted in the waters of baptism. How our Christian identity informs our calling in life, and how refugees are our neighbors no matter their religion or race. And maybe we could do something about the question to be home to refugees in this county.

In the time since then and now, it seems a federal judge made the executive order asking that counties make this decision about refugees, temporarily blocked. A federal judge in Texas ruled, because of a petition of the Lutheran Immigration and Refugee Service. For now, maybe the vote in Beltrami County won't matter in the practical, but the question brought our broken humanity into the light. The sin of racism still permeates the decision.  Racism continues to permeate this community.

Whether or not this decision becomes pointless or not, it opened the discussion in this community, and put a national spotlight on the county.

Today's Gospel lesson takes the event of Jesus' baptism to the back, but keeps it there in the context. It reminds you that the baptism happened and why, and then it moves into the practical. Jesus calls the first disciples and says, "Come and See".

This is what I am asking all of us to do. Keep the knowledge that Jesus was baptized, called beloved, and from that we understand our own Christian identity. But then move from the discussion of identity, to what we do about it. To, "come and see".

As Christians, we are called to love one another as God loves us. To spread the Love Grace and Mercy that was bestowed on us all. Just as the old camp song goes, yes they'll know we are Christians by our love.

Yesterday, people across the country and here in Bemidji marched in the Women's March to bring awareness to issues and realities affecting women and femmes of all origins. In a month, there'll be a Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women's March in Bemidji to bring community awareness to the number of native women who are missing and murdered every year across the United States and Canada. There are a number of community projects that help the area's homeless population, as well as the food shelf and the meals that are provided here and other places around town.

In this time after Epiphany, we celebrate light and the increasing daylight in the northern hemisphere. We also acknowledge the pieces of our world that aren't as bright, the shadows that we'd rather not worry about. The marches help bring awareness to those shadows in our world, and the community projects help bring light to those shadows.

And we wouldn't have the light without knowing that the shadows are there. We wouldn't have the spark of justice to light under our feet without being aware of the shadows. Without the community discussion surrounding refugees being brought into the open by the vote on January 7th, some of us wouldn't have thought to have that discussion in this community.

Without the brave civil rights leaders like Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. gaining national attention by marching in Washington DC and Selma, Alabama- who knows if landmark legislation like the Civil Rights Act would have been passed when they were. Without women marching for civil rights 100 years ago, without the Stonewall Riots 50 years ago…

Without brave leaders shining a light on society's shadows, standing up and fighting for the rights of other people, we wouldn't have the brilliance of today's diversity. And yet, there's still much more to do.

Without fighting for water resources at Standing Rock, and now up here with Line 3, oil will continue to leak into our water sources and our precious lakes and rivers. Fighting for renewable resources helps promote life for all living things because again, we are all connected by water.

Marches, demonstrations, and protests all shine a light on our current realities and we wouldn't be here without the hard work and struggles of those who came before us. When Jesus says "Come and see" to the disciples, Christ doesn't mean that we just become casual observers in our faith. "Come and See" that Jesus reached out to those on the margins of society. "Come and See" that Jesus lived a life of Love, Grace and Mercy and spread it to all in need through feeding, healing, clothing the ones who needed it; by teaching and preaching to all those that would hear. "Come and See" the Savior who lived a life of service, died on a cross, and rose again and saves us all from our own shadows of our lives. Through the Grace, Love and Mercy that God bestows on us all, that we may in turn spread to all our neighbors.

Together, our calling to "Come and See" is our vocation. However you feel called to live out the call to "Come and See" in your own life, in your own career, we are all called to love our neighbors and follow these words of our Savior.

In the movies and shows of these days that start with an introduction of previously known information, then move on to the main story and problem that feel like current realities, and end with a nice culmination with the protagonists hopefully winning the day. Sometimes they leave with a cliffhanger… In some of the better Star Trek episodes, they ended with humor, so that the troubles that happened in the episode seem better with a joke to send you on your way. In the case of this Gospel lesson, it ends with a look into the future that Jesus healed all that Jesus and the disciples came across in the land of Galilee. And the end of the Gospel of John has the best ending. And if you don't know what that ending is, or want to remind yourself of what that is… I'll leave you with a tease to say, "go and see". Because when we're not sure of what comes next, sometimes, we just need to "Come and See".

Until next time, friends...

Amen.

Water

This is my sixth sermon preached at Bemidji United Methodist, on 1/12/20. This sermon was for the Baptism of Our Lord Sunday, and came on the heels of local news that went national-
(https://time.com/5761225/beltrami-county-minnesota-bans-refugee-resettlement/). I felt called to respond to the news, especially when mere blocks from where it happened.

Gospel: Matthew 3:13-17


Grace and Peace to you from God our Loving Creator and from Jesus the Beloved, with whom God is well pleased, Amen

On the brink of war, communities splitting over identities, and Pastor Rob asks me to preach on this, the Baptism of Our Lord Sunday. Happy New Year, eh?

For this is the context in which we live. A nation’s weary eyes, always looking at the next big thing to come across the bottom half of the TV, or across their news feed, or the latest conversation over coffee… This week, Bemidji and Beltrami County entered that same national conversation. And not for the best of reasons. Not for reasons that bring us here, under the shadow of the cross.

The cross that unites all who are called and claimed by the One who was nailed to it. The One who was baptized by John the Baptizer in the Jordan River, and called and claimed and named Beloved by God.

For in this common identity, in which we are claimed with a baptism through water and the Holy Spirit, we are called to love one another, and see the Beloved One in the faces of our neighbors.

The three Beltrami County Commissioners who voted for denying refugee resettlement on Tuesday night forgot that. And honestly, we all forget it sometimes. I forget it sometimes. But I don’t have official power over a county. I sometimes forget it when decisions are made about me that have everything to do with who I am as a human being, and not so much with my theology or ministry. I don’t have official powers over a county, but I do know what it’s like for my humanity to be discounted. To be legislated against.

I am not a refugee, but I have listened to them. Taught them Math, English and History. They taught me about Islam, Somalia, and a little about life as a recent immigrant in Saint Cloud. I am not an immigrant, but my father’s grandparents were. My younger brother’s parents-in-law are. I have worked alongside both documented and undocumented immigrants, with the fear of deportation very present in their minds.

Regardless of their documentation, their place of origin, their religion or their race - they are human beings and no less deserving of Christ’s love, and our love and understanding. Last week, Pastor Rob talked about fear of the other, and how if we’re walking on a sidewalk and see someone coming toward us, especially if they are of a different race than we are, that we can sometimes feel more fearful than if we were alone or if the person was of the same race as us. That’s called unconscious bias. It’s acting on or feeling something based on racist stereotypes that are buried in our broken humanity. This can manifest in fear of passing someone on the sidewalk, or fear in allowing the possibility of welcoming refugees to Beltrami County. 
  
This recent meeting was not the first, nor the last instance of racism deployed legislatively in this town. But maybe this very public display of racism can awaken us all to our own implicit and unconscious bias in our own lives.

By claiming our identity in the waters of baptism, we not only connect ourselves to Jesus' baptism in the Jordan but also everyone who has been baptized. In the new movie, Frozen II, there's a delightful snowman named Olaf that loves telling the story of water, and how water has memory, and has gone through a few people and fish before it touches our lips… but the story of interconnectedness is woven throughout the movie. For context, it’s also about intercultural relationships, in a metaphorical version of the Sami and Scandinavian peoples.

The connection that we all share, that the delightful snowman Olaf was connecting, is water. Water connects all living things, and we are all connected through the water. Today's Gospel lesson is more than the beginning of Jesus' ministry and where we get our sacrament of baptism from… but also the point where God proclaims for all that they are well pleased with their beloved child. Baptism is the point when God claims us all and says that we are loved and pleasing in her sight.

We can claim our Christian identity through the waters of baptism, but we cannot use that identity for reasons to dehumanize others of other faiths, or engage in war for our Christan identity. This area has a history of using faith as a reason to dehumanize, in the not-so-far-off history of Native boarding schools. With the inherent racism mixed with religiosity present in such realities… When a lack of infrastructure is used as a reason to deny hypothetical refugees, but not new housing developments or businesses… When a county commissioner uses the word ‘invasive’ in an email when describing refugees…

I was born and earned my undergrad degree in Saint Cloud, the second most populous area for Somali immigrants in Minnesota. I worked at an after-school program for Somali children and youth from Kindergarten through senior high. I was teaching 17yr olds addition and subtraction because for 16 years they lived in a refugee camp in Kenya, just eking out a living to survive. You want to hear an example of unconscious bias? I asked a friend to come with me for my interview for the job because I didn’t feel safe going alone.

We don’t learn until we either read, or experience these things for ourselves. Without my experience at the La Cruz Community Center in Saint Cloud or living on the poor side of Huntington Beach, California for a year, I don’t know if I would feel the way I do about immigration.

I think the Beltrami County Commissioners that voted against refugee resettlement should spend time listening to actual refugees, and learning from them.

Faith is more than baptism. Faith is learning from one another, even and especially from those that don't share our faith. Faith is living out our baptismal promises, and actively engaging the world around us in that faith.

The Muslim Somali immigrants had to have tremendous faith to persevere as long as they have. To have their faith questioned and ridiculed on a daily basis, but still remain ardent in that faith. The Orthodox Jews in New York had daily attacks during Hanukkah, and still persevere and hold onto their faith.

Our Christian identity is embedded in the waters of baptism, in Jesus’ baptism in the Jordan. But how, in this world of impending war, shifting denominations, and with national attention on our community - how do we live out our Christian identity? How can we stand united?

We can stand united believing in and worshiping a God that was, is, and will be even after all the lights go out. That this God that created, creates and will create- bestowed on humanity an only child. A lonely child born in an unlikely place, to unlikely parents, and surrounded by unlikely people. An unlikely child that grew up, was baptized in the river Jordan, gathered friends and broke boundaries to serve the marginalized and under-served. Jesus the Christ lived a life in service to others, bestowing Grace Love and Mercy to all. Through the work of the Holy Trinity, we are all bestowed this Grace, Love, and Mercy so that we may go out into the world to proclaim this good news and live out this truth for our neighbors.

I believe this denomination’s call to live out faith in a policy of Open Hearts, Open Minds, Open Doors is a strong way to live out faith, and it’s evident to most anyone that walks through these open doors.

I don't know what the future holds for the larger church, but I have faith that this congregation will continue living out that call past the next conference and beyond. Beltrami County will weather this storm. If anything else, we as a community can vote this spring for caucus and this November for the general election, and live out our American identity.

Most of all, I think we all can work better at joining together on projects in the community. Together, with other churches in the area, we could continue the conversation of refugee resettlement, if only to better educate the community. We could explore providing housing for even the current situation. Improving the infrastructure that was complained about. Continue building relationships with the many cultures already present in the community. United in our Christian identity, we can live out God's call to love our neighbor, and make our community better for all of us. Even for those that have yet to join it.

You are God's beloved. Remember your baptism, as we remember the Lord's.

Amen.

Reign

This is my 8th sermon preached at Faith Lutheran in Bagley, MN, preached on 11/24/19.

Gospel: Luke 23:33-43

Grace and Peace to you from God our Loving Creator, and Jesus the Reigning Christ, Amen

The End. Not many stories begin with those two words, but this one does. Jesus washed the disciples feet, ate dinner with them, was handed over to be judged, carried a cross across town, and was nailed to that cross to die. The End. Oh yeah, and Jesus offers forgiveness to the criminal. The End.

Advent is the mirror of Lent, and one could argue, in fact I did last year up here, but Advent could last six weeks instead of four. With Advent’s Gospel texts about the ending of the world, we have a text about the end of Jesus’ mortal world. Or very close to it. And at the end of this text that we just read, there, Jesus gives his final forgiveness to a condemned and guilty criminal. In the Gospel of Luke, we’re not told what these criminals were guilty of, but clearly a crime that deserved a Roman death sentence.

In this Gospel, the author points out Jesus’ innocence a few times, once the innocence of Jesus is confirmed by a Roman soldier himself. The Romans knowingly put an innocent man to death to appease the people, broken humanity. What does Jesus do before offering God their spirit? Forgives the guilty criminal. Divine forgiveness. Divine forgiveness that only comes from divine love for humanity. However broken we are, wherever we are in life, there was the final example that Jesus gave us before death. “Surely, you will be with me in Paradise.”

This is Jesus at the penultimate end of the story. In a month, we’ll listen to the beginning. Eleven months ago, you listened to the beginning of the Lukan story. What’s happened in those eleven months around here? What was the life of this congregation like in those eleven months? I know that I was up here a little over a year ago, preaching a sermon about the end of the world. (Welcome to Advent).

In a month, it’ll be the end of the year, and the end of the decade. Those of you on social media might have participated in or seen the posts of people posting pictures of what they looked like at the beginning of the decade vs the end of it. What would the pictures of this congregation look like? Of Bagley? Of Northern Minnesota? Of this country?

With Thanksgiving in a few days, what kinds of things are you grateful for in this congregation? I apologize for all the questions, but in the words of my rabbi, my religious studies professor in undergrad, “Questions are good. Questions are what keep the conversation open. If we had all the answers, the conversation ends.”

Without conversation, Thanksgiving dinner might get a bit dry, and I don’t mean the food. With Thursday’s conversation comes gratitude. With gratitude… comes forgiveness? There’s something about forgiveness and gratitude, right? Think about it… Can you be grateful for someone, or something, without forgiving them of their wrongdoing?

The tradition of gathering around a table and offering gratitude for those gathered, could have been the root of today’s Gospel lesson. In Luke, before we get to Jesus on the cross forgiving the criminal beside them, we have Jesus gathered with friends around a table sharing a meal and offering forgiveness and gratitude with the washing of feet. Even for Judas. There’s that divine forgiveness again.

I don’t know what Jesus forgiving a betrayer before eating dinner or forgiving a criminal before death means for you, but I know for me, it’s something to live into, and hope to achieve one day. I’m probably like most of our fellow broken humanity, and find it difficult to forgive people who I vehemently disagree with. Usually it’s because their views directly contradict my very existence, so forgiving them is dependent on them seeing my humanity first. I’m not saying that’s where you’re at, where anybody else has to be, or has to feel, but that’s where I’m at.

Earlier this week, I saw a portrayal of the Christmas Armistice in a science fiction show I was watching. If you don’t know the story, the short version is that Allied soldiers and German soldiers on Christmas of 1914 came together for a night and stopped shooting at each other to share a meal, songs and even sports, in the name of celebrating Christmas. Enemies trying to kill each other one minute, and sharing a meal the next. The greatest example of forgiveness I know.

That’s the reign of Christ. The reign of Christ that calls humanity to seeing Christ in one another. Forgiving one another, loving one another, giving thanks for one another. The Reign of Christ is recognizing that the Christ who was born of humble beginnings, lived a life of teachingpreachinglovingserving, and died on a cross, and did it all for us - to save us all from ourselves. Through the Love, Grace and Mercy of God, the reign of Christ is knowing that we are saved so that we can live out our days proclaiming and bettering the world for those around us.

What does the reign of Christ look like in the next year for you? For this congregation? I personally love Advent, with the themes of Peace, Hope, Love and Joy all intermingled with Christmas shopping and end of the calendar year madness. Up here it means winter and early sunsets and hopefully warm beds with plenty of covers and sweaters to keep us warm. Hopefully plenty of great food and celebrations and Christmas carolers and music recitals. Above all, love and gratitude for your friends and neighbors in this holiday season.

One story before I end. Last week, I helped lead this year’s Transgender Day of Remembrance service at First Lutheran in Bemidji. The names of twenty-two people who were killed because of their gender identity were read, along with a corresponding ringing of the church’s bell. Most people in town probably didn’t know why the bell rang that much. But I wanted the bell to ring purely for that question to be asked, and for the bell to be heard by the people of Bemidji. The bell’s vibrations could likely be felt in the nearby Mississippi River, and then sent onward, connecting the rest of the country in those ringing bells.

The reign of Christ is knowing that Christ forgave the criminal before death, and died shortly thereafter - and also knowing - that the death of Christ is not the end of Christ. That the actions put in place on Friday would have ramifications on Sunday, with the resurrection of Christ and the beginning of Christ’s reigning in the world, for the rest of the world, until the end of the world. Reading the names, re-membering the twenty-two trans people into the world around us, sending vibrations down the Mississippi... What we do in the world matters. Our lives matter to one another. I encourage you, when hopefully gathered around the table with friends and family this week, think about what impact that meal will have on you and everyone around you. Your kindness, your love, your gratitude, will send vibrations out in uncountable and unforeseen ways, but know in your heart that - that is the Reign of Christ in the world.

Amen.

TDoR Homily 2019

This is the homily I prepared and preached at First Lutheran Church in Bemidji, MN, on 11/17/19.

Grace and Peace to you from God, the Creator, Savior and Breath that holds us all together in love, Amen.

“...for my house will be called a house of prayer for all peoples…” Thus says God in the words of Isaiah. Here we are, in a church, where people are gathered to remember the names of 22 transgender folks who were killed for who they were as people. Year after year, the names of people killed for being transgender are read in community centers, parks, bars, houses of prayer, and places of worship. Year after year, the faces behind those names are similar in nature, because year after year, most of the names being read belong to specifically black trans women.

There are of course, people who are from every other nationality and gender identity that have been killed for who they are as transgender folks, but I want to be sure to name and make clear that the systems behind the crimes stem from the evils of racism, sexism, and classism. Who we are as transgender people is a threat to the capitalist patriarchy that we exist in, surely. But for those whose claims to privilege in this country are few and far between - when the evils of racism, sexism and classism are weighing down heavily on our rights to be authentic people in the face of God and society, then the likelihood of those evils fighting back increase.

Vicar Daphne read a poem from a transgender poet, Griffin Rae. On another poem, there was commentary added from Griffin and I wanted to share that with you. She writes,

“Thinking a lot today about how transmisogyny is not just about denying that trans women are women, but also an internalized belief that trans women are a lesser class of woman. The patriarchy always treats trans women as women by default, and are only treated as men when they must be demoralized or otherwise discredited. The patriarchy treats trans women like sex objects, same as cis women. The patriarchy wants to strip trans women of their bodily autonomy, same as cis women. The patriarchy is threatened by trans women, same as cis women. The only real difference is that trans women are subjected to a unique double standard: that a trans woman is a woman when she conforms to patriarchal norms, and that she is a man when her existence challenges those norms. Ex: manhood often presents itself as this mystical conception of power that must be attained through ritual, strength, and adherence to an unspoken code of conduct. However, only in the case of trans women is this title unscrupulously given out regardless of if they fit into the given parameters. The rules change, and then they change back; but only cis men get to say when or why. A trans woman is a woman when you're fucking (I said "with") her, and a deeply confused man when you want her to shut up.” https://www.instagram.com/

Bricks were thrown at Stonewall Inn in 1969, 50 years ago, so that people like the more than 22 people we remember today, like some people in this room, like me… could live an authentic life. People die, just to have a chance at living an authentic life.

The Apostle Paul writes in Galatians, “As many of you as were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus. And if you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham’s offspring, heirs according to the promise.”

People have been wanting to live authentic lives since the dawn of humanity. One could read in the book of Genesis, that Joseph was almost killed because of Joseph’s desire to be authentic in the beloved dress that was given to them by their father. That the sexual and gender minoritized eunuchs who were taken out of God’s houses of prayer in Deuteronomy, were welcomed back in Isaiah and one became the earliest foreign convert to Christianity in the book of Acts. In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus describes that however someone was labeled a eunuch, that they were loved by God. That who they were, as authentic as they were, that God welcomed them into their favor.

We gather today to remember the list of names of violently killed transgender people, but also to acknowledge that this list is incomplete, that there are people who were murdered because of their gender identity, but not reported by the police. People who died from suicide because of their feelings of gender. That there are over 300 people worldwide that shared the fate of the 22 remembered today. Trans people that die in other ways because of the evils of racism, sexism, ableism, and classism. But I don’t want you to leave here today thinking that trans people are only remembered when they die. I don’t want you turning away from the realities facing the ones alive to live and tell their stories.

Whatever the reason that compelled you to come today, to help or to attend, to listen and remember - I ask that you not turn away from the justice at hand. Maybe your mind is opened just a bit more. Maybe your willingness to help combat transphobia strengthens a bit more. Whether you are trans, bi, lesbian, gay, asexual, two-spirit, agender, nonbinary, queer, genderqueer, questioning, female, male, pansexual, polysexual, polyamorous, hetero or homosexual or any combination or none of the above - Whatever your race, ability, culture, religiosity, faith, creed or nationality - know that your life matters. Black Trans Lives Matter. You are loved.

Those of us who are gathered here today are encouraged and called to go out into the world to fight the evils that allow the list of names read today to exist. We are encouraged and called to not turn away from those who call out into the wilderness asking for help, asking to live authentic lives. Asking who they are, and what they mean to you and the world.

In a little while, the names will be read, and the bell will ring. The sound of the bells will travel the length of the Mississippi, connecting from Bemidji to New Orleans, the West to the East. We will not turn away. We remember.

Amen.