Salem Sermon Archive
Sermon for Pentecost 9C
July 24-25, 2010
9th Sunday after Pentecost
Luke 11:1-13
Salem Lutheran Church
Sycamore, Illinois
"Ask and you shall receive…"
It was a few months ago that our staff gathered over at the home of one of our homebound members to help celebrate her 75th birthday. We brought in lunch and gathered at tables in her front room and we visited and we shared birthday cake together... Now I can remember this from other years in May that the Junior High marching band would be marching up and down the street of this particular member --- practicing their routine --- learning to better walk and play at the same time. You can't help but pause and smile to listen and watch as they go. Only this is what happened this year. Judy Bergeson, from our staff, had an idea. I watched in wonder as she jumped from her chair and out the front door and chased that marching band down the street. She caught up with the director and asked if they would come back and play "Happy Birthday." It turns out the band didn't know Happy Birthday. But they came back anyway and stood at the edge of the driveway and played every song in their repertoire.
"Ask and you shall receive. Seek and you shall find. Knock and the door shall be opened unto you."
Now I have never seen anyone chase down a marching band before and for that matter, it wouldn't occur to me to do so. But to paraphrase our Gospel for today…if the marching band director would turn his entire band around to play for a homebound woman's 75th birthday lunch --- simply because someone asked --- how much more will God give you and me whom he knows and loves as his own!?!
Now you should know that I did ask permission to tell the marching band story today …. Judy said "yes, of course…." And then she went on to say, "But it was just the right thing to do." I don't know about that; I mean this wasn't necessarily a question of right or wrong. But it was about love and kindness and generosity and those things are always right.
Now correct me if I'm wrong, but here is what I expect is true today. Very few of us have the kind of relationship with the world that we would chase down a marching band. Hardly any of us would do that. But don't you see? In today's Gospel Jesus is not telling us we have to go running down the street after a stranger to do this. Rather, he speaks of a posture, an inimitable sense of confident expectation that a child has when asking a loving parent ---- that is what Jesus is calling us to now as we turn to God in prayer. To live into that kind of deep trust in God who already knows and loves us. And if our requests are borne of love and kindness and generosity in behalf of God's own hurting world, all the better.
Unfortunately, I expect we often forget this. Indeed, all too often, it seems to me, we often do not even think to ask in the first place. Truly, how often do we think something can't or won't happen anyway so why even bother? Or how frequently do I believe that I don't really deserve the best of God's gifts so I won't begin to risk to put my hopes out there. On the other hand, will things always work out as we hope and pray? No, probably not, for the human body is fragile and the world is broken and time in this life is limited --- but still, who's to say what might happen if only we were to ask? Ask and it will be given you. Seek and you shall find. Knock and the door shall be opened unto you. If I'm not even bothering to knock, it's no wonder no one is answering.
Indeed, as I was thinking about prayer in these past days, I got to wondering, what would happen if we started asking. What would happen if the 300 or so people who showed up here for worship every week began to pray fervently for peace? I mean, every day --- and like we meant it? Or for the end to domestic violence in this community? Or that no child in Sycamore would go to bed hungry, no not once. What do you think would happen if together we were to start pounding on God's door and asking? Well, something would start to change, I can guarantee you that. Those fervent conversations with God would start to change us, to start with, and wonder of wonders, as our hearts and imaginations are awakened and result in the hard work of God's people I am certain that the world would start to change as well. And along the way? We'd begin to see marvelous miracles of coincidence that we could never have thought to ask for. Now maybe I'm aiming way too low… but just for starters, I'm going to suggest that you and I together pray that hunger would be put an end in this community: something whose face we see every day of the week in this place through our own food pantry. I'm going to suggest that we pray every day… together and apart… starting today. You'll find in your bulletin insert a list of prayers to start with… use them, adapt them, write your own… just start praying with me that hunger here might come to an end and then let's see what happens next.
So back to that marching band story. Judy chased them down with a specific request. Would you come back and play "Happy Birthday?" They didn't know the song to play it… but they came back and gave so much more than we could have imagined or hoped for. We got a whole mini concert and a 75 year old had a story to tell for weeks and I would bet every one of those middle school children went home and told their parents what they had done that day. Because one person asked. So again I wonder, what would happen if ten or a hundred or 300 of us started asking? Will we get what we ask for? Maybe and maybe we'll get a whole lot more. Indeed, I think it's time we all start chasing down marching bands. It's time we all start simply asking. And then let's just see what God will do. Amen.
Pentecost 8C
July 17-18, 2010
8th Sunday after Pentecost
Luke 10:38-42
Salem Lutheran Church
Sycamore, Illinois
I had a terrible time with the sermon this week. I would guess that if they're honest, most who step into the pulpit this week-end would say the same thing. Because for most of us, this story hits too close to home. Because Jesus' words to Martha, no matter how gently he may have spoken them, ring like judgment in my ears. Because I want to be more like Mary, but on most days I fall far short.
So I had a terrible time figuring out how to bring this word to you in a way that was both authentic and at least a little helpful. For I am Martha. I know the distraction which Jesus observes in her today. I am distracted by a to-do list which never quite gets done before more gets added on. I am distracted by the needs of so many --- all of whom I want to get to, but the hours and the energy run out before I can get there. I am distracted by my own physical, emotional, and spiritual limits which have my resources running scarce before the work can all get done. I am distracted by worries about bills to be paid, family members to be cared for, and lessons and sermons and funerals and weddings to be prepared, shared, performed, and by a kitchen floor that only seems to get mopped when I have a few days off.
I expect it's much that way also for all of you… Oh, the details will differ, to be sure, but I'm betting the anxiety you feel is much the same --- you know worry and distraction. You know it to your bones. Even you who are retired have been known to say that you're busier now than when you were working for pay as there is so much that needs to be done in the world and now you're seen as those who have enough time to be able to give to all those pressing needs. And you try to… until perhaps even you find yourself with Martha looking over your shoulder in resentment at Mary who somehow 'knows the better part' and more than that, is able to claim it for herself.
So I don't stand before you today as someone with any kind of profound insight into the struggle described for us now. I stand alongside you, yearning for another way to be and do and live and breathe. And I'm trying awfully hard to hear Jesus' words for me today as grace and hope and promise and not just one more thing to add to my 'to-do' list. You know --- shop for groceries, go to work, mow the lawn, pick up the kids for their games, pay the bills, spend at least 30 minutes in good aerobic exercise, fold the laundry and spend some time sitting at the feet of Jesus. No indeed, that would seem to be missing the point. Jesus is not telling Martha she should be doing one more thing. Rather, it seems, he's getting at a posture, a way of living, that may be entirely contrary to anything you and I have known in our lifetimes. Something that was clearly a challenge long before the age of cable television, commuting, cell phones and Facebook.
So I'm not thinking for a minute that what Jesus is calling us to here is easy… at least not on the surface. Even so, I'm wondering to myself a little bit if maybe I've heard the argument all wrong for most of my life. For somehow it doesn't seem right that all of us could simply give up our work and simply 'be' like Mary… else how would all the work get done? In fact, even Jesus doesn't say that. If you were here last week, you would have heard Jesus say to those listening after the story of the Good Samaritan to go and do likewise. We hear today that Abraham and Sarah and their slave are scurrying all over the place making sure there is a feast on the table before their three visitors. No, in fact, as I sat with this familiar story long enough this week to actually hear it beyond the layers of old understandings I carry with me, here is what I realized. We really do have two different personalities playing out in Martha and Mary, … two very different people with very different gifts and I would guess they've spent most of their lives talking past each other, not truly understanding the other. And today it just all boils over.
Now it could be that Martha is just weary of trying to get through to Mary directly… maybe she's tried and tried, but what we see today is that she tries to pull Jesus into what has probably been a fight they've been having since they were children. She's angry at Mary and she tells Jesus to fix it. And in the meantime, she actually turns the fight on him --- accusing him of not caring.
It's an ugly, uncomfortable scene, and if you think about it that way, Jesus' words to her today really are pretty gentle. He doesn't turn on Martha and tell her she's obnoxious, which she is in this moment. He doesn't give her a lecture on direct communication --- reminding her that if she has a problem with Mary she needs to talk to Mary. He doesn't ignore her --- as if that would even be possible, given the directness with which Martha tends to communicate. He doesn't even get defensive, insisting that yes, in fact, he does actually care. No instead he lives out that care… he looks into her heart. He sees beyond the surface, beyond the actual words that Martha is spouting in that moment and he takes in her pain. She's carrying too much. Too many things are pulling at her attention. And, no doubt, her anger in this moment is borne of all that pain. And Jesus urges her to let it go. Not to be Mary, but to embrace some of what Mary has somehow learned. To be in the moment. To learn to acknowledge and celebrate the gifts of God which are right before her.
And so it is for me and perhaps also for you. Jesus speaks out of a great love today. One that sees into your heart and mine. One that sees beyond my petulance, my frustration, my overwhelmed-ness, my resentment. One that sees you and sees me and urges us to let it go. To let it all go… because the way it is really isn't working. No, this is not a call to be Mary. At the same time it is to discover some of what she already knows. That nothing matters more than the gifts of God in this moment. And to live like that's so. And as for those moments when I'm looking over my shoulder in resentment at those who have this better figured out than I? Well the story today pushes me to quit asking what's wrong with them; and rather to wonder about what's wrong with me? To consider what words Jesus would whisper in my ear --- reminding me that you and I are seen just as we are --- just as Martha was. And we are loved right there. And then we are invited into a new way ---this way of Mary --- for our own sakes. Amen.
Sermon
July 3-4, 2010
6th Sunday after Pentecost
Luke 10:1-11, 16-20
Salem Lutheran Church
Sycamore, Illinois
Many of you will know that I spent this last week at confirmation camp with 65 8th graders soon to be 9th graders and a dozen other leaders from 7 congregations. Here's how it works at confirmation camp. Our kids travel light. This is not to say that they don't pack a lot into their suitcases before they leave home, but once they leave their rooms in the morning, they don't have anything with them. Oh they carry their energy, their hearts, their voices, their faith. But not the schedule of the week's events which we put in their hands on Sunday nights. And not any way to tell time, for you see, their cell phones --- if they bring them at all --- are taken away --- only to come out at evening free time for a quick call home if they wish.
So as I said, they travel light. First thing in the morning, we make our way together down the hill to breakfast. They follow the group as we walk over to another building for the morning session and then sit down with their Care Group for a discussion of what was learned. They travel together to their Discovery Zone and then join up with the whole group again for lunch. This entire time they simply trust that someone else will guide them to where they will go next and that when free time rolls around in the afternoon, there will be an adult nearby to tell them when it's almost time to wrap things up and join the large group again for song time and for supper.
Seriously. I looked. I don't think most kids wear watches anymore and from what I can tell they can't read the time by looking at the position of the sun in the sky, so if they had any hope of being in the right place at the right time, they had to rely on others for more than five days.
I imagine that's part of being a kid… even so, it is precisely that kind of trust that Jesus sends us out with in our Gospel lesson today… travel light, he says, for you don't need much as long as you look to the one who will guide you. Bring your hearts, your voices, your enthusiasm, your faith, your deep trust in God… and that's about all. And as we hear today, it's not the arms on the clock we are to look at to see when it's time to move on or stay in one particular place. Rather it's the reaction of those we've been sent to: whether it be open hearts of welcome or the closed doors of rejection.
And while we are traveling light as we go, it is still a remarkable gift we're called to bring the world, really... and it's not finally something you could pack in a suitcase or carry in your pocket anyway. I mean, think about it. Jesus says today that when we arrive, the gift we are sent with is the first words out of our mouths which are to be "Peace be with you." And this is not just a fancy way of saying "Good Morning." This is a way of saying that God is here. This is a way of reminding anyone who might be listening that this God is a powerful God. That ours is a God who brings peace where there is strife, wholeness where it's broken, healing where it is sick, life where there is only death. Indeed, Jesus tells them and us that we can travel light… for the messenger will be cared for as that simple and profound message is shared… our concern should be for those people we're sent to with this message of peace…
. No indeed, Jesus is offering instructions here which clear the way for these seventy followers to be effective in their call to go ahead of him to announce God's own peace. Knowing that the resistance of others is nothing at all compared to what we often carry within us that can get in the way.
And so the first question for us today is what's weighing us down that we can't or don't speak God's message of peace… What would Jesus tell us to leave behind today as we make our way to share this good news? Is it a too full calendar? Is it the very watch on our wrist that keeps calling us to look to where we think we are supposed to be next instead of paying attention to what's right before us? Is it such a sense of confidence in our own abilities to take care of ourselves that we don't or can't pick up our heads enough to realize that God provides it all anyway? Is it fear of what we stand to lose? What is it that is weighing us down that keeps us from simply turning to a neighbor, a friend, a co-worker, a family member and saying simply: God's love is meant for you. For you.
For the most part 65 8th graders at confirmation camp did all right without their usual ways of telling time this week… except on Tuesday afternoon? About a dozen of them walked in fifteen minutes late for song time. One of the pastors had just been sent out to search for them when they came sauntering in… they had been playing… and they claimed, and I have seen this to be true, that they couldn't read the time on the clocks that hang in the public spaces in the buildings at Augustana College. They're not digital, of course… the hands of a clock are entirely foreign to them.
So just as it's true that this journey we are called to will be a gift to those who hear God's message of peace, it will also be a gift to all of us as we find ourselves needing to go deeper… learning to learn new ways to listen so that we can trust and follow the signs of God. Not so much in telling time, but in learning to tell God's time.
Now it's true that most of us won't get sent out in quite the same way those first disciples were… rather, we will find ourselves unexpectedly in the middle of our lives with the opportunity to speak this word of peace. I'm pretty certain it happens every day, but it happened to me late on Friday in a way I couldn't ignore. I don't know if I did it right, but this is what happened.
I stopped at Wal Mart on my way back into town. I had cleaned out my refrigerator before I left last week-end and I knew for sure there was no milk for my morning cereal. So I parked my car, grabbed a cart, and moved as quickly as I could through the holiday week-end shoppers. I was tired, to be sure, and so it rather startled me when I went to check out and the young man named Ross at the cash register looked at my camp shirt and asked me what church that was. I told him it was a camp shirt, actually, that I was just back in town from a week with 8th graders. I went on to tell him I'm the pastor at Salem Lutheran --- just down the street. He nodded and told me he was interested in such things… "Although, I'm Jewish," he said. "And I'm more analytical than I am a believer." All the while he's piling my groceries into bags as he went on to say that he doesn't know why people fight about religion, for in his opinion, they're more alike than not. I said, well, yes, we do all come from the same beginnings in our faith… and it's true that all three major world religions do worship a God of love. By now the line was backing up and I'd punched my pin number in the keypad. He told me to have a nice day and I thanked him and wished him the same.
Was a message of peace shared? I hope so… although I found that his open curiosity about the logo on my t-shirt was as much a gift as any words between us. Was I ready to do and be more in that moment? Should I have said more? Perhaps, I'm not sure. Either way, what it did make me realize anew was that wherever we go, we are messengers of peace. We are those who follow and we are those who go before Jesus preparing the way that all people might know that wholeness which only he can bring.
So yes, I do find I'm also still learning to tell time. And more than that, I need to be reminded that God's time is right now as we are sent out on this peace-sharing journey. We're called to step out each day with hearts open and willing to trust that God will show us when and where and how. And to listen deeply so as to speak the right words to the one whose world we find ourselves stepping into. We don't have to pack much for this journey. Just open hearts and minds and spirits. And a willingness to engage a little more deeply those who cross our paths, remembering we have something life changing to give them. For their sakes and ours. And more than that for Jesus' sake and the world he so loves. Amen.