Wilderness Wonderings

Season of Creation: Wilderness Sunday

Romans 8: 18-27 & Mark 1: 9-13

Today, we’re beginning a new series for the second part of the summer. We began this summer with a Season of Courage– listening to God’s prophets speak their bold words and inspire us to courageously listen to God and do justice, love mercy and walk humbly with our neighbors.

Now, we turn our attention to the whole creation. And in this first week, we begin with wilderness. Why? Well, at least partially because in Jesus’ own story in the very first gospel, the first version of why Jesus’ life and death mattered in the world, the very first thing that happens to Jesus is being baptized by John – whose prophetic work was shaped in the wilderness – and then after baptism, Jesus is sent to the wilderness too.

Wilderness seems really important as a place that shapes us, that molds our spirit, a place where fears rise up and are overcome, a place where we might experience awe, a place where we encounter wild animals and angels take care of us.

When we hear the word “wilderness,” some of us are already traveling in our minds—to the Badlands, to the Boundary Waters, or even farther… some of us are thinking of the little pockets of wilderness right here in the Twin Cities. Maybe we think of a neighborhood we’re hesitant to walk through at certain times of day or night… or maybe we’re thinking of a woodsy area where deer emerge each evening. Wilderness can be an image of desolation or a place teeming with life, just depending on our perspectives.

As many of you know well, this past week was our annual KICKS program – our summer day camp program for neighborhood kids that we host in collaboration with Rock of Ages and this year, St. Paul-Reformation. In addition, Lutherans throughout the East Side and as far as Taylor Falls made contributions that supported KICKS. It’s surely true that it takes a village to make KICKS possible… and again this summer, we rejoice that the village came together to feed and inspire a group of children, youth and young adults to build relationships with one another that change us for the better. All these things are true… and at the very same time, there are moments in the KICKS week that feel like wilderness every year. Two of the days were so very hot. Kids were complaining in the wilderness, even just laying down on the sidewalk and refusing to move… and counselors’ hearts grew as they practiced the fruits of the Spirit in these moments—patience, kindness, gentleness, self-control… moments of wilderness, where we are just so clearly not in control, can teach us to become the best versions of ourselves.

So how do we see wilderness – places and situations that are wild, that are not molded and controlled by us – as gift?

We hear this morning in Romans, that creation groans… like a pregnant woman bringing her child to birth. It is a blessing to be pregnant but we all know that before giving birth to new life, a mother goes through pain, lost appetite, sleeplessness, high blood pressure, struggles with mobility... Yet I'm the end is celebration.[1] Raising children, having KICKS, doing ministry together is good, good work that leaves us so very tired. There are pain, challenges, even groans along the way, but in wilderness we grow.
Life in Christ is like wilderness – we do not control it - but we share in it as we are led by the Holy Spirit whose work and will we can only find our way through together.

Our KICKS theme song this week was My Calling – the song is originally by the group AJR and adapted by Anne Zielske for our use. We’ll sing it as our song of the day today, and in it we sing these words:

And I wonder, is something in the water make me wanting more?

The earth aches with God’s work to do … so here I go…

Right away after Jesus’ own baptism, he goes to the wilderness.

It’s almost as if Jesus has to see the creation groaning for himself, has to be in deeper touch with the wilds in order to know his calling.

This week, one of our stations at KICKS was with Heidi Ferris who does eco-education throughout the Twin Cities... She helps kids and youth connect the dots between faith, science and youth leadership. One of the many insights she shared is about how our state has transformed from woods and prairie to mostly farmland and while that's amazing for feeding the people of our state and far beyond, it also has an impact on the whole creation... What does the loss of prairie mean for our neighbors the butterflies and other pollinators that our agriculture also depends on? But then she pointed out the value of even pockets of gardens, for example, the pollinator gardens that surround our church building can make a positive difference. And then her group identified 5 monarch caterpillars, 3 species of butterflies, 6 pollinator types, and 4 monarch egg… just in one morning!

Yes, the whole creation groans for God’s new life and renewal, and when we can’t quite see it yet, we wait with endurance. In my circle of friends, two families have been in the hospital with their teenaged children this week, in one case, an appendix burst on vacation... In another, a teen experienced a forty-foot fall from a cliff... Both of these families and several of your families have been going through the wilderness of being out of control as their beloved children are tended by medical staff and have to make their own journeys into and through rehabilitation... These journeys through injury and healing require so much endurance. 
And in the midst of our KICKS week, we also faced death. We received news our member Dan Washick died. Death is the final wilderness. Even as soon as baptism, we acknowledge death's power to take away and yet, because of Christ's resurrection, we also acknowledge in baptism that we have received new life that begins now... Through any wilderness - beautiful or fearful or both - that may come our way.

As I met with Lydia and Nick last Sunday, I said, "Baptism isn't magic" & they nodded in a way that I knew that they knew that already. Baptism doesn't promise to protect us from suffering or harm that comes in life. But baptism does give us promises... The promises we take with us into the beauty of the wilderness where wild animals meet us and into the terrors of wilderness, where angels care for us.

All week at KICKS, we talked about God's presence in our daily callings. Over and over our counselors in their daily skits, that looked at lot like today's skit with Ocho... That God is right with us in our daily work, in our daily lives, even when we can't quite see God. And those who shared about their vocation said this... Sometimes, we actually can see God's work moving through us and in spite of our doubts and fears, right there God shows up... In the courtroom, in our work providing play opportunities for disabled adults, in our teaching, in our greeting others at a front desk, in our working with immigrants, in government, giving medical care, sharing music, as a sanitation worker, as a retired person actively volunteering, as a child reaching out to a friend with care... There are so many callings, so many jobs, tasks, activities where God's Holy Spirit moves and lives in and through us.

Today, Elijah is baptized and we rejoice with you at this milestone. We will promise to walk with you and support you as he grows in faith and life. Whether you are experiencing the wilderness parts of life as bountiful or overwhelming, here we are for you.
Today, seven of our youth will head to Wapo...directly into the beautiful wilderness setting of lake and outdoor fun, but also, we recognize that many of our campers this year are going for the first time. We want to applaud you for your courage to go to a place you haven’t been and we will be praying for you each day for you to experience all the good the wilderness has to offer.  
Today, we give thanks for all that has been so good about KICKS again this year—and how it put God’s whole creation and God’s whole variety of callings in our minds as we move into the final laps of summer and dream with God about what is still to come.

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[1]Workingpreacher. Commentary by Israel Kamudzandu, 07/23/2017

 

In Loving Memory of Carolyn R. Knutson

Romans 8: 28-39 & Luke 10: 38-42

There are so many things to say about Carolyn. For those of us who work on a daily basis at Christ, she is probably the person we saw most often. So many of us can point to ways that she was generous with her time and showed care for others, sometimes through words but most often through deeds. Carolyn often came in to help in the office. Each week, she cleaned the sanctuary, tidying the pews and the coloring table. She was full of ideas for constant improvement. On Sundays, she would come in early to set up communion regularly before practicing with the Soli Deo Gloria choir. After worship, if there was a need, she would clean up after communion.

Carolyn was involved in the Hospitality Team, the CLC Women, the Worship Music and Arts Team… she visited the homebound and called them, delivered gifts to them and delivered messages back to me. She nearly always came to Advent and Lenten Wednesdays and when the Second Saturday meals came into being, she attended those community-building meals, sharing her special Welsh cakes at least twice and comparing recipes for the very best rØmmegrØt.

She has been so present in our daily life at Christ and although she was gradually backing away from a few tasks—giving up the watering of plants, for example—she was still so vitally involved. I vividly remember the last few conversations I had with Carolyn… when she told me that she wouldn’t sing with the choir next year and I tried to encourage her that even if she didn’t want to stand, we could bring a stool or a chair so she could still participate (an idea that perhaps horrified her). Another of those last conversations we shared was about the Reque kitchen, passing on her visions for what might be needed (or not) in that newly renovated space. I remember how one of her last critiques for me was about the amount of bread offered in Communion… and how I gave her too much and I promised to cut back, if I could, but knowing myself, I said, “If I forget, Carolyn, please just take the mistake as a reminder of the abundance of God.”

I remember on Mother’s Day, the day of the Blessing of the Kitchenette, and how she was so busy tidying up after worship that we had to call her name several times to draw her in… but we just could not start without Carolyn. And I remember the last words we exchanged that Sunday… I asked her after most people had left, “Do you have any plans for today, Carolyn?” And she said, “Yes, Thessaly and Alex are taking me out to W.A. Frost. Isn’t that nice?”
“Yes, it really is…” And I was filled with gratitude with her for this good gift—you, her grandchildren, who made this plan together with her that she got to anticipate and delight in. She deeply loved you—all her children and grandchildren—as I think you know well.

You know because she sewed clothes for you growing up and she made you “leftovers from scratch.” You know because “what happens at grandmas stays at grandmas.” She loved and protected you and at the same time she empowered you. She let you live your life. She sent you on a massive bike ride to visit relatives in Iowa! She forced you to play instruments! She did not hide her quirks—here, I’m talking about the Kleenex box filled with Kleenex to use a second time and the bag of strings “too short to save,” the wine made from Welch’s grape juice and her tiny portion sizes for herself—but her diligent frugality was paired with enormous generosity, and that is such an amazing combination of qualities. And as she aged, she was constantly serving, volunteering, contacting, visiting, driving, caring for others, including each of you gathered today.

This Sunday, we will hear this story from Luke—the story of sisters Martha and Mary. Here it’s paraphrased in Eugene Peterson’s The Message.This is one of the many things I treasured about Carolyn—how she would bring a different translation to the Women’s Bible study every month, always exploring how God’s word might come to us differently and new. Here’s the story.

As they continued their travel, Jesus entered a village. A woman by the name of Martha welcomed him and made him feel quite at home. She had a sister, Mary, who sat before their Guest, hanging on every word he said. But Martha was pulled away by all she had to do in the kitchen. Later, she stepped in, interrupting them. “Jesus, don’t you care that my sister has abandoned the kitchen to me? Tell her to lend me a hand.”
Jesus said, “Martha, dear Martha, you’re fussing far too much and getting yourself worked up over nothing. One thing only is essential, and Mary has chosen it—it’s the main course, and won’t be taken from her.”

I’m struck by how much this story looks like Carolyn—always so intent on welcoming others and helping them feel quite at home. Also, she was always keeping busy and probably often felt pulled away by all she felt compelled to do. She worried about who would join her and who would fill in the gaps… and now we feel the gap of her absence, too, intently. We didn’t get to say goodbye and thank you, and yet today we do that holy work.

We get to proclaim the faith that she lived out as faithfully as she could—that because of God’s deep love, all things work together for good.

That God is for us… after all if God gave us Jesus, can’t we trust God to provide everything else we need?

And that nothing in death or life, not our losses, not our suffering, nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus. God’s love in Jesus moves toward us in deepest grief and surrounds and fills each one of us with what we need.

There is a legend that is often associated with Martin Luther that when he was asked, “What would you do if the end of the world was coming tomorrow?” He responded, “I would plant a tree.”

Carolyn’s death came in the very midst of working on a newsletter mailing for her alma mater, volunteering to be class agent. She was so committed to honoring the past and serving into the future she was volunteering once again as this life came to an end.

Yes, Carolyn was like Martha, but I also think about the part of Carolyn that was so very Mary, welcoming and then listening deeply… hanging on every word from you—who were to her like Christ, the Guest… as her loved ones witnessed, “She was more Christian than many, without having to talk about it… we owe her a lot.”

And so we say thanks to God for Carolyn: beloved sister, mother, grandmother, musician and friend, visitor, volunteer, believer, inspiration, beloved daughter of God and now part of the communion of saints. We give thanks to God for giving us her to know and to love. And we give thanks that through the power of the resurrection, she is not only in our minds & hearts but sits with Jesus, enjoying together the main course… that will never be taken away. 

How Dare You?

Season of Courage: Listening to the Prophets

1 Kings 5

Midweek, I learned I’d be preaching in Deacon Kari’s absence. She has gone to be a part of her young nephew’s care team after a very serious tractor accident. There is much good news this week for little Kaden after multiple successful surgeries. After being in very serious condition, he has had nearly all the tubes removed… and his family expects him to be transferred to a regular room. Although a long recovery is ahead, all looks very good. We give thanks to God for little bodies that can heal from very serious injury and for our devoted Deacon who is also a loving, devoted auntie.

So, when I looked at this week’s story from 1 Kings to see which prophet we would listen to for courage this Sunday, I was delighted to see that it was the story of Elisha and Naaman. There is so much to love in this story. First, there’s the fact that a very, very powerful man has such suffering that he is willing to try anything. Because he’s desperate, he listens to the most marginalized—first a slave, then his servants—and this listening to those he considers “least” leads to complete healing. 

But along the way of this story, there are some more juicy details that are just so real-to-life. Leaders are in poor communication & nervous tension with each other, thinking that this request for healing is really a test of power—and this most awesome of comments from a leader who actually realized he wasn’t God, “Am I God, to give death or life, that this man sends word to me to cure a man of his leprosy? Just look and see how he is trying to pick a quarrel with me." Paranoid to the last…

You’ve also got to love Elisha who speaks up to his own king and then when this very, very important foreign military leader arrives at his door?—maybe he was just feeling a little overworked that day, but he doesn’t even go out to meet this very, very important man face-to-face. No, he just sends a servant out with the prescription for what ails him. 

Naaman’s response is less-than-pleased. As a great man, he is used to people giving him far more respect than he deserves. So, his response is kind of like, “How dare you?!”How dare you not come out and perform your prophet thing? Call on your God, wave your hand over the spot, perform the cure! And then the cultural supremacy thoughts come out—aren’t our rivers much, much better than your little muddy Jordan? I’ve come from so far, “How dare you?!”

An important book came out this week—it’s called Dear Church: A Love Letter from a Black Preacher to the Whitest Denomination in the U.S.  and it’s written by Lenny Duncan, a Black Lutheran pastor in New York who is calling this church who has loved him and welcomed him in with such grace and promise to take it a step further and address together with him in a more powerful way arguably the greatest sin of our country—racism. Our national church body gathers this summer in a Churchwide Assembly—and in fact, our member Eric Miller will be one of the representatives of the Saint Paul Area Synod at that assembly—and at past assemblies of our national church, we have approved many, many well-written, challenging and powerful social statements but what Pastor Lenny is calling us to do now is start putting our words into action, start putting our money where our mouths are, start responding to our community in dire need, start living the values outside our walls that we as church say we believe inside them.

We are this very, very powerful nation and white supremacy/racism is like our leprosy. Our church has become sick with the disease of inaction. It hurts all the time but eventually, it’s going to kill us. In a meditation on the parable of the Good Samaritan, Lenny writes:

My death doesn’t seem to move you. My blood being liberally poured out on the streets of America hasn’t moved you to organize or advocate for systemic change. So I offer your own death to you as an alternative. Because the truth is, this church is dying, and I don’t want to see it die without the hope of resurrection.

The reason the ELCA is so white is theological, not sociological… Black people have been a part of the Lutheran tradition on this continent since the 1600s. Lefse and hot dishes aren’t the problem. Liturgical worship isn’t the problem…. But we have abandoned the inherent justice and equity that the gospel is rooted in. We need justice to be the heart of our work and life, not just something we do for “God’s Work Our Hands Sunday.” (To be clear, I’m not criticizing this important initiative. It just isn’t enough.) Our theology needs to change if we want our polity to change—if we want more people of color in our church… (Pastor Lenny Duncan writes that he has) started a new organization called Emmaus Collective to give definitive action steps for churches and to map those churches that are already deemed safer for persons of color… churches that are on the way to, or working on, dismantling white supremacy in their church culture.[1]

I think that we want to be on that map, and particularly, because if we do the work of dismantling racism, we will be so much more authentically living the gospel of Jesus Christ, showing up for one another not just at rallies or protests but “frontline direct actions that are responsive to the cries of the oppressed.”[2]Lenny writes that too many of our welcome words come with an asterisk—All are welcome*

*If you don’t challenge us

*if you don’t make me feel anything that isn’t positive for this hour and a half

*if you don’t make me question anything I have built my life around

Lenny describes how in worship, he leaves a moment of silence between the confession of sin and absolution, a moment that is just longer than is comfortable… and then he says, “Let’s sit in that moment for a bit longer, Church, and allow the discomfort to fuel our work toward reparation.”[3]

Naaman faced that long moment as he raged outside the door of the prophet who didn’t do ministry like he expected. But then (and the real mystery is why), his servants came to him and pleaded with him to step into the water, the muddy Jordan, seven times like the prophet said (because really, didn’t he want to be healed?). He listened and it made all the difference.

At just it’s fourth lunch served this summer, guess how many lunches Shobi’s Table served on the corner of Sherburne and Rice, just kitty-corner across the street from our back parking lot? Guess how many? 79 lunches… and I don’t think they’ve ever served less than 40, even in the rain, since under the leadership of Deacon Kari, our Synod has re-launched this ministry again together with a spirit of listening and partnership, with a spirit of openness to what our neighbors might have to teach us. In a way, it’s easy to bring people together around food… but the challenge is whether the discomforts we feel along the way in this life-changing project will lead us to give it up and move back into our silence, our offended “don’t you dare” spirit or if we, like Naaman, might be moved by God, working unexpectedly through the voices of faithful ones to show us the way to healing and new life. Deacon Kari tells me that with each meal, her excitement and passion for us to get this kitchen done—and do our part in this process of confession, reparations and reconciliation in our own neighborhood. Lenny says this, “It is a dangerous experiment but so is Christianity… he says, “The truth is that I’m willing to sacrifice my life so that you might know what freedom looks like by fighting for mine.” If we humble ourselves to listen to the prophets who give us the steps, give us the way forward, it will take courage and investment… but I suspect that God puts the voices in our midst at just the right time, when we are perched already to act, and God calls us toward freedom, healing, new life that we have been seeking anyway. God calls us… as we listen and respond, it makes all the difference.

God you have called your servants… give us faith to go out with good courage…

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[1]Lenny Duncan, Dear Church: A Love Letter from a Black Preacher to the Whitest Denomination in the U.S., 18

https://lennyduncan.com

[2]Lenny Duncan, Dear Church: A Love Letter from a Black Preacher to the Whitest Denomination in the U.S., 20

[3]Lenny Duncan, Dear Church: A Love Letter from a Black Preacher to the Whitest Denomination in the U.S., 45