Calling the Disciples: We Practice Truth & Equity

Mark 1: 21-28

When people heard Jesus speak, when they experienced Jesus in person, people sensed a unique authority or maybe we would say authenticity in Jesus’ actions and words. In the welcome words today, we heard this “We encounter that authority in God’s word, around which we gather, the word that prevails over any lesser spirit that would claim power over us, freeing us to follow Jesus.”

 

What are the words—in daily life, on Sunday mornings—what are the words that are God’s word to you? What are the words that sustain you in times of difficulty, that keep you from caving in to terrible fear? What are the words and actions that help you to come back to yourself at the end of the day?

 

As I have been preparing for the Lenten season that’s coming soon—in just over two short weeks—I have been reading a powerful book that Mike Peterson recommended to me and plans to lead us in conversation around this Lent. It’s called We Survived the End of the World: Lessons from Native America on Apocalypse and Hope. The author is Steven Charleston, who is a Choctaw elder, public figure, who has been Episcopal Bishop of Alaska, president and dean of the Episcopal Divinity School, and professor of systematic theology at Luther Seminary. He writes with incredible insight and clarity about how people have survived catastrophe. He writes about how important spiritual community is when things fall apart, as things change all around us, and I’m looking forward to these stories and insights each Wednesday this Lent.

 

Steven Charleston writes about surviving apocalypse. What is apocalypse? It’s used to describe catastrophes or even the end of the world, but that’s only part of the meaning. In Greek, the world means “uncover” or “reveal.” So, it might be a vision of the future, imagining what is to come.  This is the same kind of writing that Mark uses to tell us about Jesus. According to David Schnasa Jacobsen, Jesus’ baptism happens after the heavens are ripped open. Then, the Spirit drives Jesus out into the wilderness to contend with Satan, hunger, beast and angels. Then, Jesus preaches that God’s kingdom is here and calls disciples out of their fishing boats immediately. Then, today Jesus is casting out demons. Everything in Mark is urgent.

 

What does all this mean for us, especially if “the things that threaten our world are not so much demons and ripped-open heavens but broken or [evil] systems of human construction?” Jacobsen quotes another teacher, Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, who says we are called to “steadfast resistance.”

And then Jacobsen invites us to pay attention to our bodies as we hear God’s word—this gospel of God’s work in Jesus is capable of sustaining steadfast, embodied resistance. Put another way, it’s to give us deep hope and allow us to practice even deeper love in steadfast resistance to any fear that might come our way.

Up ahead in Mark’s story is the fact that Jesus dies on a cross. And in Mark, the meaning of Jesus’ cross is not about Jesus dying for people’s sins. It is about calling a thing what it is. Jesus chose the way of weakness (not dominance) and suffering (not having it all together). This version of Jesus’ story is not about escape, but naming the world, its pain and its promise.

Jesus is not going for power and popularity but silences demons when they speak of his identity. He is humble even as his reputation grows. Jesus doesn’t dominate people but practices self-awareness.[1]

Jacobsen says, “This little scene from Mark 1… set in a synagogue on the Sabbath, is a sign of God’s reign for the real bodies in the room. It is… spoken by a Jesus who wants nothing to do with dominance schemes and good publicity. He aims with urgency to enlist disciples, and anyone else with ears to hear, in their own local practice of apocalyptic struggle.”

 

Finding our own local practices of steadfast resistance, of apocalyptic struggle, of inner purpose within spiritual community… this is, I think, the call of the Holy Spirit to us in 2024.

 

After all, we have so much evidence that things are changing all around us. On Thursday this week, half of our new Vitality Team met to do a prayer drive around our neighborhood. We were asked to watch for moments of desolation—sorrow, brokenness, fear, anxiety…

And moments of consolation—hope, healing, courage, peace…

 

We drove down Charles Street where we know that Kathy Harris lived for years until it finally got just too dangerous to stay. And we also reflected on neighbors who live in the historic small homes on Charles Street—and who have in fact purchased multiple houses—to live in and strategically build meaningful community. We saw the boarded-up businesses and the lack of family-owned restaurants that we remember once being here… we also saw the brand new Frogtown Community Center and the Hmongtown Market. Focus is a caring ministry of sharing meals, clothing and services with the most vulnerable, surrounded by non-profits, advocacy agencies and government buildings that are trying to influence matters throughout the whole state. This neighborhood is built to support the Minnesota State Capitol but so many people live here, too, and Ann shared that her mother described it this way, “Things might look sad in this neighborhood but people-in-need have always gathered in the shadow of the Capitol because they hope that they will be protected (it happens in every state, even in D.C.).” If this insight is true, I wonder how God is calling us to practice truth and equity alongside these neighbors gathering for protection. How do we share their hopes and question with them how our state government might better serve and protect these neighbors?

 

Let me end for now by inviting us to this season of accompaniment, with the quote that Steven Charleston uses at the beginning of his book, a quote from Joseph Campbell: 

The mystical theme of the space age is this: the world as we know it is coming to an end. The world as the center of the universe, the world divided from the heavens, the world bound by horizons in which love is reserved for members of the in-group: that is the world that is passing away. Apocalypse does not point to a fiery Armageddon but to the fact that our ignorance and our complacency are coming to an end. –Joseph Campbell

Many people who live beyond the city of Saint Paul never drive in to our part of the city… any of us might have the cloudy view of seeing only desolation… but with God’s help, we have a new and different view. We are invited by Jesus, through the power of God’s Holy Spirit, to see things as they are… to notice both the places of desolation where Jesus is very present… and the places of consolation where God is bringing new life into being. This is the journey that we are being invited into this Epiphany, and the way of the cross we’ll go deeper into this Lent. This is how God is calling us and it’s my hope that you will join in this rich and deep, story-filled season, as we gather around God’s Holy Spirit, the stories of ancestors and our own selves--who will all work together to transform us and move us into the new reality that God is creating within and around us.

---

[1] David Schnasa Jacobsen, workingpreacher.org

How does a weary world rejoice? We trust our belovedness

 

Luke 3:21-22                                                                Image from A Sanctified Art

Last week we remember the ritual of Jesus’ dedication at the temple, the story we meditated on last week, where Simeon and Anna praised God for Jesus when he was just eight days old and spoke to everyone about his identity as the Messiah. Between that time and this, there are many unspoken parts of the story of Jesus’ life. We have to jump to Matthew to learn a story of a terrible ruler—Herod—who threatens the community so much that the Holy Family has to escape to Egypt for an unknown number of years. In Luke, we just read about the Holy Family’s yearly trips to the temple in Jerusalem with their community, and how one year when he was 12, Jesus got accidentally left behind and was sharing wisdom with the teachers at the temple. we read only that Jesus grew in wisdom and statue and in favor with God and people. Years go by and we read about a fiery preacher named John who is baptizing everyone but is preaching such a powerful and world-changing message that he has already been thrown in prison by the time Jesus’ baptism is mentioned. 

 

“Now when all the people were baptized and when Jesus also had been baptized and was praying, the heaven was opened, and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, ‘You are my Son, the Beloved, with you I am well pleased.’ Jesus was about thirty years old when he began his work.”

 

On the bulletin you see an image of Jesus’ baptism where he is submerged in the water. The artist describes her process of trying to imagine a different moment than so many others pictured throughout time. We usually see images of Jesus coming up out of the water, into a scene of deep affirmation as Jesus’ steps into his mission. Here, though is another moment. Jesus is underwater. The artist—Lauren Wright Pittman—describes Jesus as “completely suspended, embraced and upheld by the waters of baptism. The water’s surface is choppy. The future is unknown and precarious. The path is a lonely and formidable one, eventually leading to his suffering and death.” 

Then she writes, “Despite what is to come, Jesus reaches toward the surface. Two fish are drawn to the light [around his head], foreshadowing his companionship with fishers and his miraculous feeding of the [thousands]. All of creation is leaning into [this] call.”

“This is what trusting your belovedness feels like—muscles and bones relieved of gravity’s burden, serenity, weightlessness, oneness with creation, and the warmth of God’s love permeating every cell of your body and every [part] of your soul.”

 

All week, I’ve been sharing and hearing stories from people who are moving slowly into 2024. Maybe the Christmas tree has been taken down, maybe not. On our fifty degree Christmas Eve, we were holding our breath, watching and waiting for this weekend—a snowy, deeply cold one that balances out our fragile ecosystem again. Right here at 105 University, we’ve been waiting and watching as the historic building next door, scheduled for demolition, has experienced delays. But this week, our staff and I faced the challenge of the internet being cut on Monday and not restored on Friday. So, all the work we needed to do this week was slower and more creatively accomplished than we expected. So many of us have had to pause, in so many ways—suspended, embraced, upheld—looking at the choppy surface.

 

This weekend, in so many places throughout Saint Paul, we have the opportunity to honor and remember the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., another young man who traveled a lonely and formidable path, one that eventually led to his suffering and death. Part of my family was present at Luther Seminary on Friday and had the opportunity to hear ________ preach, and he described this weekend as a megaphone for the dreams of MLK… dreams that cannot die if they live on in us. The dreams live on in us as we recognize how they represent our own values, values in which every person is beloved to God. If we believe that every person is beloved to God, we stand with sanitation workers who need access to a bathroom, a place to change their clothes, a living wage. We stand against unjust wars. We stand with those of different religions, different cultures, those who are struggling to be seen as those with human dignity. We hold fast to this dream of God—that everyone is beloved and deserves to be treated that way—even when it seems like an impossible vision.

 

God—who speaks from the heavens, who appears in the form of a bird, who speaks in the night calling our name—calls us to do the bravest thing we can do. As Rev. Sarah Speed puts it—

 

Trust your belovedness.

Let it be a protest, an act of resistance, a song of celebration.

Trust your belovedness in a world that is rarely satisfied.

Wear it like a badge of honor.

Speak it as confidently as your last name.

Tattoo it to your heart.

When outside forces chip away at your sense of self,

When like ask you to hand over the keys,

Remember the water.                        Remember creation.

Remember how it was good, so very good.

Let that truth hum through your veins.

Sing it so loud

That it drowns out the weariness of the world,

For the bravest thing we can ever do

Is trust that we belong here.

 

In this baptism scene as described by Luke, a detail I appreciate is that Jesus is praying. Maybe you read in our devotional booklet this week the reflection by Rev. Cecelia D. Armstrong. She described how when she was young, her mother woke her up each morning with the song, “Hey, good lookin’ what you got cookin’? How ‘bout cookin’ something up with me?”

She still feels the affirmation of her mother who was interested in her plans each day. Like that, Jesus is praying, connecting with God—and Jesus receives this deep affirmation.

In baptism, we too have this opportunity to remember—we are created in the image of God, we’re invited into the practices of God… and we’re invited to “cook up somethin’” with God as co-creators in a world that longs to rejoice (words and images of Rev. Cecelia D. Armstrong).

 

When we trust our belovedness, we can live and give fully—we treat ourselves, others and all of creation with tenderness and care. When we trust our belovedness, we have endless reasons to rejoice. [1]

---

[1] Writings from A Sanctified Art liturgy and devotional resources.

How Does a Weary World Rejoice? We Root Ourselves in Ritual

 

Jesus’ Dedication & Epiphany                                        Image from A Sanctified Art

It was just a over a week since Jesus was born and his parents were moving through the first week with their tiny infant, moving through their cultural rituals, infused with meaning and belonging. They were taking Jesus to the temple so he could be circumcised and officially named. His name would be Jesus, just as the angel Gabriel said. But the visit to the temple became even more than they expected… because while they were there, a Spirit-filled elder named Simeon, who recognized baby Jesus as the Messiah. 

 

He took the baby in his arms and praised God… calling this child the people’s “salvation,” calling him a light for all the nations… just like we heard in Isaiah.

 

Simeon blessed Mary and Joseph, too… and told them that being parents to this One was going to be quite a ride. There would be major highs and major lows… 

A sword would pierce her soul.

 

And then there was more, from the prophet Anna. With all the wisdom of a woman who has lived most of her life a widow, fasting and praying night and day, she praised God and spoke about the child to all who were waiting for the redemption of Jerusalem.

 

Wonderful and terrible things had been happening all around them—and both wonderful and terrible things were to come—but in the midst of it all, here was a very warm and bright moment. It was a moment when wise ones, Spirit-filled ones, reminded Mary and Joseph and the whole gathering that God was with them.

It was a moment of ritual, following all the usual practices in all the usual ways—but in that ritual, there was space for an Epiphany—when God’s real presence was clearer than usual.

 

That’s why we gather, too… so that we can practice rituals full of meaning and belonging. At first, we might enter into the practices of church with low expectations, but then, there are moments where someone surprises us. Someone praises God, offers some word or gesture that helps us remember to praise God, helps us remember that God is present right here… 

God is loving us, redeeming us, saving us. 

 

In her poem Muscle Memory by Rev. Sarah Speed, she describes it this way for us– 

 

When the world falls apart around me…

…Take me to the table.

Tell me how people have fed each other.

Tell me how they’ve torn the bread with wrinkled hands and children’s hands.

Tell me how they’ve said, This love is for you,

as they looked you in the eye.

 

Then take me to the font…

Tell me to leave my burdens there.

Then take me to the front doors.

Remind me how we throw them open.

 

Take me to the creaky pews,

Pews that have held the straightened spines and silent prayers of so many.

 

Take me to the church.

Move me through the rituals.

Tell me why it matters, so that next time, when someone else’s world falls apart,

I will have the muscle memory to share.

 

When I was old enough to question the value of rituals, I remember my Mom saying something like this to the question of why I had to go to church—“You don’t always go because you get something out of it. Sometimes, you go because someone else needs to see you there.” 

How does that shift in perspective sound to you? –That someone else needs to see you here.

That you are someone’s Simeon, someone’s Anna. Someone needs to see you. Someone needs to see and hear your child to recognize that God is in our midst.

 

As we mark this doorway with a blessing—as we receive a new word to ponder through the new year—we add to so many ancient practices some that may be new… and that’s just to keep things fresh, to keep awakening to the loving presence of God.

 

Today, two days after our 12 days of Christmas have come to an end (except if we’re Ethiopian, and then, we’ve just begun!). Today, the day after the Feast of the Epiphany, we come together for a season of watching for glimpses of God revealing who God is—this week, as prophets name Jesus as the fulfillment of God’s age-old promises.

 

Next week, we’ll gather again to celebrate Jesus’ baptism—another moment of God’s voice speaking to us the love and belonging we need to hear.

 

All through this season, we ask God to meet us in the greetings, words, song and prayers, meal and font, rituals that anchor us and speak a word of hope.

 

Just imagine that in this season after Epiphany, we have the opportunity to see and be radiant, for our hearts to thrill and rejoice… as Jesus meets us in work and play and rest, as winter days are infused with the dawn.

How does a weary world rejoice? We acknowledge our weariness

Luke 1

On Thanksgiving Eve, I went to worship at a neighboring congregation and the pastors reminded us that gratitude is not necessarily a feeling but a practice. Sometimes feelings of thanks well up within us—like those who met around this week’s Gratitude feast hosted by Daily Work and Shobi’s Table. But sometimes, gratitude doesn’t come as easily. In tough times, it’s the discipline of practicing that carries us through. You may have read Kate Bowler—she’s a survivor of stage four cancer—and ever since she made it through that experience, she’s written a lot and hosts a podcast about the authentic experiences of life. This week, she wrote a thanksgiving blessing for when you don’t feel terribly thankful.

 

Kate Bowler wrote—

God, I am struggling to find my way toward gratitude this thanksgiving. 

Help my heart find joy, for you know how much I need it.

Come meet us in our needs that weigh so heavily upon us.

Blessed are we who come to you just as we are, with our loneliness and loss,

Our scarcity and sorrow, and say God, there is just not enough 

Though we’re not even supposed to say [that] today, there is just not enough to go on:

Not enough money to pay bills, not enough jobs, nor safety for those who have them,

Not enough wisdom to find solutions, not enough strength or comfort or connection.

Things are just harder now.

Blessed are we who say, God, could you come meet us here, in this place?

This place of need where our feelings don’t match the day?

Blessed are we who hear You saying: “come to me, all you who are weary and carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.”

And we come. And somehow there is rest, and gladness for tiny, tiny graces.

Blessed are we, the truly thankful.

Settle. Place before your mind one gift of God. And say thanks.

 

How does a weary world rejoice? This is an Advent and Christmas question that we’ll be exploring over the month to come. Today’s response is just the first—How does a weary world rejoice? We acknowledge our weariness. 

 

At our Thanksgiving table, the one who shared the prayer got tears in his eyes as he contemplated the pain of the world. Still, there is reason for hope, he said. We know, we know…  but maybe it is good to practice this month first the truth-telling, with Kate Bowler, with the writers of this beautiful devotional from A Sanctified Art, with the biblical characters—that there are very many hard things in life and that we are weary.
Christ was born into a weary world.

So, they invite us to look closely at the details in the opening stories of the Gospel of Luke. They invite us to discover where joy is sprinkled throughout the narrative and identify the moments when joy arrives—despite anxiety, fear or grief. And they invite us to consider how joy can be a companion to you this season, the joy that is rooted in the truth that you belong to God. 

Imagine this—you deserve to feel joy—fully. The world needs your joy, even if you are weary and all the resources of this month are to help you hold space for weariness and joy. All the resources of this month are to help us practice joy in a weary world.

 

This first story—Zechariah—is a good example.

It is completely understandable why Zechariah would be weary from waiting and full of doubt. He’s offered his whole life to serving in God’s presence, but has he been rewarded for that in the ways his culture would understand? No, in fact childlessness in his culture signified God’s contempt. Zechariah and Elizabeth are childless and old—so when Gabriel appears in a vision in the temple, it makes perfect sense that Zechariah would question that incredible message. “How will I know that this is true?” I’m well past my prime. I doubt it.

But with Gabriel’s joy-filled response, we learn that God’s promises are more powerful than our doubt, weariness and despair. “I am Gabriel… “ Zechariah’s ability to speak is taken away for awhile—maybe for both himself and for the community—so that God’s power can do it’s good work and bring into being not only the baby who would become the prophet John the Baptist… but the transformative future that he would proclaim.

 

Rev. Cecelia D. Armstrong writes in our devotions this week--

We can be weary in various ways. We can be weary because of our age. We can be weary because of our waiting. We can be weary because we have faced the same routine for years and seemingly watched nothing change. We can be weary for various reasons, but must we stay weary? Can we exchange our weariness for hope? Is there a way to experience weariness and insist on the blessed hope that is to come?

 

I love that idea of “insisting on the blessed hope that is to come.”

 

And Rev. Lauren Wright Pittman, the artist who made this beautiful image—Annunciation to Zechariah—wrote these reflections:

 

I often try to neglect my weariness by putting on a veneer of unwavering trust in God---while feeling like I may suddenly unravel…

 

Do you bind up your weariness in a neat and tidy bow, put your head down, and project okay-ness like me? What would it look like to acknowledge our weariness, quit powering through, and open ourselves up to what God might have in store for us? Perhaps we’ll meet an angel.

 

Breathe deep as you gaze upon the image on the left.

What do you see? 

One hand is over his mouth in disbelief, the other hand cradles the notion—not yet hope—of the new one being born.

 

We are that same mix—of weary doubt, of the possibility of joy—and God comes among us, a companion to us this season, to help us remember the truth that we belong to God. May that belonging be the first new spark of joy this season as we begin practices together to grow in love, comfort and joy for the sake of a weary world.  

Invitation to Anticipation

Bega Kwa Bega Partnership Sunday              Matthew 5:1-12

Jesus said to the disciples: Then the kingdom of heaven will e like this. Ten bridesmaids… 

And Jesus goes on to tell a story that goes against most everything we’ve ever been told about who God is and who Jesus invites us to be…

We hear that half of the bridesmaids have enough oil and half do not – but do they share? No.

We hear that the five without oil go to get some – but are they let in the door? No. (in spite of other scriptures that reassure that when we knock, the door will be opened to us).

We hear that all these tired bridesmaids have to wait so long that they fall asleep – but what’s the message? Stay awake. Even in spite of everything you know in your body about humans’ need for rest and for all the many invitations God makes to enjoy Sabbath rest.

So what do we make of this parable? It is certainly not an allegory—a story where there’s a one-to-one match with Christ as the bridegroom, the church as the absent bride, and all of us trying how to be wise, have enough oil, stay awake… It is certainly not an allegory but what are we supposed to do with this story anyway? This story meant to invite, confuse, exaggerate, make curious… 

 

In her commentary about this strange, familiar parable, Susan Hylen invites this perspective—that followers of Jesus are shaped by the unknown timing of Jesus’ return.

However, she says, “the point of the parable is not constant readiness. “Keep awake” does not imply that the disciples should never sleep, standing vigil through the ages for Christ’s imminent return. In fact, all of the bridesmaids, wise and foolish, are asleep when the shout announces the groom’s approach.”

 

Then, she notices - 

It is difficult for many of today’s disciples to be anything like the bridesmaids, wise or foolish, because we have stopped waiting. We give little thought to Christ’s return, let alone what we should do to prepare for it. If we were to contemplate ourselves in relation to the end time, it might be easier to imagine ourselves as the slaves who work diligently while the master is away than as the bridesmaids whose primary job is to await the groom’s return

 

I mean who can blame us? Given what seems like such an absence, such a long wait, who can blame us for just moving into a sense that the world will never be right… that the kind of kingdom that Jesus is calling into being, the kingdom of heaven… will never exist.

Nevertheless, there may be something we can gain from the parable’s perspective.

The parable asks us to imagine ourselves as those who wait for the groom’s return. It invites us to imagine—however long the delay—that God’s good reign of justice and peace is just around the corner, that Jesus is about to enter, and to wait for it with eager anticipation. The parable invites us to prepare for the day, not as exhausted slaves, but knowing that because God’s promises are true, we can keep encouraging each other to eager, hopeful waiting.  

 

This is so much what I saw as I traveled with our partners in Masimike—a rural farming community in the Iringa Diocese in Tanzania. As we traveled by bus in the rainy season, there was excessive water and abundant green crops—corn and the wide-leaved false banana—there were abundant chickens and fruits growing on trees. And in each place we stopped, there were people gathered in eager anticipation to welcome us—strangers—who they treated as honored, eagerly anticipated guests. 

Our Tanzanian partners sang and waved branches as we got off the bus. They danced and invited us into the dancing. They helped us learn the steps and the tunes to the songs. They fed us and thanked us for all that we’ve accomplished together. In preaching point after preaching point, they pointed to a roofs that have been put up because of our shared support. Students and their parents came to me and thanked me, a representative of this congregation, for how much our support has meant to their families.

Now, you might be asking, how much do we send?
And the true answer is that there used to be members of this congregation who individually supported students. Also, the children’s jar offerings have been designated to go to support these students. But for many years, the funds kind of mysteriously made their way to the partnership accounts and there was always enough for all. Every specific request that came over time, we could always say, “Yes, the money is there. Please go ahead and use the money as you see fit.” Then in 2023, the money in the partnership accounts simply did not flow in its usual way. It might be that individual supporters have died or changed their designations… but for whatever reason, we find ourselves with an opportunity. The opportunity is to come together to fill those accounts once again so that our modest gifts can go and do such important, life-giving work. And all I can say is that I cannot adequately express to you how very well our modest gifts are used and multiplied by our partners in Masimike and now, by the second congregation that has been created as our Masimike constellation of preaching points grew so big that a new congregation was needed to organize all the gatherings. 

The kingdom of heaven is like this—and we have the opportunity today to contribute to give in a spirit of anticipation not only for all that God is doing and about to do in Tanzania, but for the ways that God is creating a culture of generosity right here.

There are so many things in our lives that make us cry with Amos—“let justice roll down like water and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.”

There are so many things in our lives where we are wishing for the presence of wisdom… “who is easily discerned by those who love her, who is found by those who seek her, who makes herself known, who appears, who meets them in every thought.”

Today, we are invited by Jesus to hopeful anticipation—whether our lamps feel full or empty, that we might become ready, hopeful, eagerly waiting for the light we need. Today, we are invited by Jesus to awaken to the needs of others. Today, we are invited to know that even though we do not know the arrival time of Jesus showing up among us, that God’s promises, justice and peace are true… and we are invited to live with hearts, minds, whole selves awake to all that God is still bringing into the world.

Remembering, letting go, healing with the saints

All Saints’ Sunday - Revelation and Matthew           

Blessed are you when you mourn, for you shall be comforted…

Those of you who feel the lowest of the low—Jesus says: I see you, I honor you, you are part of God’s dream, God’s family, God’s circle of love and support

 

Some of you know that I celebrated a milestone birthday recently and with that milestone, I have been cleaning—filling bins and bins of recycling with those things I no longer need from the first 50 years, making open space for what is to come. One of my inspirations in this process has been the little series (inspired by the book with the same name) The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning.[1]

In each of the 8 episodes, a team of death cleaners – an organizer, a designer, a psychologist – they go into a person’s home to help them deal with their stuff (something that they want to do and need help to do because someone in their life has died and left them too much stuff to deal with… or because they are facing their own death and want to live more freely and comfortably in the time they have left).

This show is funny, at times gently poking fun at things that Americans keep, and a source of so many heart-expanding moments. At least once every episode, they remind the people that they are helping that their loved ones are present with them. There is a saying goodbye that is involved but getting rid of excess stuff is not getting rid of the beautiful memories and experiences, or their love for their person. 
What I’ve been learning more deeply as I watch it is that Americans apologize constantly for crying… every single person has deep wells of grief but doesn’t feel permission to cry.

When they get permission to cry, you can see the healing that takes place.

 

Good tears—Research has found that in addition to being self-soothing, shedding emotional tears releases oxytocin and endorphins. These chemicals help people feel good and may also ease both physical and emotional pain. In this way, crying can help reduce pain and promote a sense of well-being. It also can help you get support from others.[2]

 

Another thing I’ve learned – “You need to be supported to let go. When we have support, we are able to go so much farther than on our own.”

Kat, the psychologist on the show, is so kind and gentle and when she met with a woman, Shana, who was both keeping her friends at a distance and trying to find a way to talk with her close friends about her cancer, Kat showed her two acro yoga poses – one called the Titanic pose where she leaned far forward with the person holding her so she would not fall. The second looks like an airplane pose—the teacher holding the other on her feet like Shana is flying, a pose she describes as “super scary yet kind of freeing.” They have a conversation about how Shana wants to develop trust, courage… and Kat shares how that’s possible when there is that high level of support. “You need to be supported to let go. When we have support, we are able to go so much farther than on our own.”

 

A third learning—what’s loved has to be released. When we try to hold on to everything, we lose what matters. Family after family featured in this little series learns that their lives are the gift from relatives—not the stuff—and they can love items enough to let them go so that they can have a new use in another way. 

There are so many practices of self-compassion that go right alongside the letting go – here’s one exercise for us to try in community today.

1) Take a deep breath and recognize the pain you are carrying. You really tried your best and it still wasn’t possible to save these loved ones from death.

 

2) Having these painful experiences is part of being human. Let yourself know that you are seen and understood and cared for.

 

3) As scary as it was, put your hand on your heart and remember - 

I am here for you. 

I know what you’ve been through.

I will listen.

I will make space.

Because you are very important to me.

 

In the context of the show—these are words that in self-compassion, you say them to yourself.

In the context of Christian community—these are words that God (within and around us) says to us, that we say to one another and yes, that we can say to ourselves.

I am here for you. I know what you’ve been through.

I will listen. I will make space. Because you are very important to me.

 

For the past five years, since our 150^th Anniversary, our congregation has had many losses. In your own circles of love and connection, you all have had even more losses, and part of the practice of this day is not only to remember and acknowledge out loud that we remember, that we are sad and miss them but to not get stuck here.

 

Jesus looks at those who are grieving, who are outsiders, who are marginalized and suffering, and Jesus reminds them how they are also blessed. It’s not only a future prediction but it’s to bring new life in the present.

If we are stuck beneath a mountain of stuff (literally or emotionally or spiritually) that represent our unprocessed grief—because our life has changed and we just haven’t had the support to deal with it—how can we invite in a circle of friends to help us?

 

For me, it has been an incredibly freeing thing not only to see how they transform spaces together but how they are working on the inner spaces… and how at the end of every episode, there is a celebration. Often, it’s a dinner with candles and loved ones, good food and stories, and together we remember again that this is a vision of the life that God dreams for us. 

 

Today, we too have candles… and we will light more. We remember and cry healing tears. We gather around a table where Jesus is the host, sharing who God is in the bread and cup, making us into a circle of friends who are here to help and support. And today we especially remember that those gathering with us include the whole communion of saints, a cloud of witnesses, with Christ as the center who guides them to springs of the water of life, and who with gentle compassion, when healing is complete, wipes away every tear from their eyes.

---

[1] The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning, https://www.peacocktv.com/

[2] https://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/319631#benefits-of-crying

Building a Culture of Generosity: God’s Changing Things for Good

Pastor Joy – I want to invite the children to come up if you’d like... and as you come up we are going to sing together “I Will Call Upon the Lord”

Today is such a special day—Reformation Sunday, Commitment Sunday AND Family Fun Day Sunday! We’re so glad you’re here! 

Ocho - Hi everybody! 

Pastor Joy – Oh wow, here’s Ocho! Ocho, I’m so glad you’ve joined us for this special day. This is a Sunday packed with beautiful images and ideas and stories.

Ocho – I saw all the red so I put on my red t-shirt. But why are we wearing red today Pastor Joy?

Pastor Joy – Red stands for God’s Holy Spirit! Today is a day focused on knowing God and especially how God’s Holy Spirit changes us or “re-forms” us as we move through life. The Holy Spirit helps us learn more deeply who we are as people of faith and children of God in light of God’s unbelievable grace.

Ocho - You mentioned stories - I love stories! Will you tell us one?

Pastor Joy - Well, one of the Reformers who shaped our Lutheran tradition over 500 years ago was Martin Luther. He was a pastor and a teacher. When he saw how certain leaders in the church were abusing and oppressing people, he was so upset that he posted all his ideas for improving the church and that set in motion the events that led to a whole new way of being church. He wanted all people to be able to read the Bible and worship in their own language so everyone would have the opportunity to know who God is!

Ocho - But Pastor Joy, you’re a pastor and so was Martin Luther.  I’m just an octopus and we are all only kids. Do you think we can understand who God is?

Pastor Joy - Yes, I think that people of all ages can understand things about God and when we get together, we can share our ideas and learn from each other. Martin Luther was obsessed with being a perfect Christian until he realized, reading the words that we heard today from Romans 3, that he didn’t need to be perfect because God’s love and grace extend to all of us… way before anyone is perfect. Of course, God extends grace to us and wants us to share that freely to other people too.

Ocho - You know what -  All this time I thought octopus were perfect - cuz I’m the only octopus I know! Ha ha!  But its true - most of us live alone and we like it that way.  I spend my days by myself under my rocks or looking around for food.  But did you know, we’re not perfect -  there are some Octopus that actually use weapons! 

Pastor Joy - Really??

Ocho - Yes! There’s a place in the ocean off the coast of Australia where octopus have had to live closer together and interact with each other more. Sometimes there’s some friction. 

Pastor Joy - Oh my! 

Ocho - I know! I guess they get really territorial. They’ve been observed boxing each other with their tentacles and even throwing rocks and shells at each other! I guess we are good at fending for ourselves but most of us aren’t very good at imagining how others feel, or sharing or helping each other. But you all seem like you get along well! I bet you humans never fight or be shellfish!  Get it shell fish?

Pastor Joy - Ha ha! I get it. But actually, Ocho I’m afraid we humans are often selfish. Raise your hand if you sometimes fight.
Well… we’re not the only ones who sometimes fight. This week, there has been lots of scary news about people fighting and using weapons in many countries and even in our own country. Kids, have you heard any of the scary news?

Ocho - Oh kids, oh Pastor Joy, that’s so sad. How do we learn to be better at getting along? Is there a way to end violence? Do you think we can ever reform the world into how God wants it to be?

Pastor Joy - In Psalm 46, God is bringing an end to all weapons. God actually says to everyone who is fighting to stop it. Our translation says, “Be still and know that I am God.”

Today, in Winnipeg, Canada, my niece and goddaughter Siri is celebrating her Confirmation and this is her verse. Psalm 46:10

So, I’m going to invite you all to quiet your bodies for a moment and practice this prayer meditation with me. (elbow, toes, stroke beard if needed)

Be still and know that I am God
Be still and know that I am
Be still and know that
Be still and know
Be still
Be

Pastor Joy - Wow! Good job practicing that verse.

Also, I think that Pastor and Teacher Martin Luther would have said that it is not our job to reform the world–luckily–because that’s way too big a job for any one person. It’s God’s job to change the world for good. God’s Holy Spirit that is moving and changing the world… but we can help! We can be part of God’s reforming work. Can you think of any ideas of how to help God and get along with other people?

Kids ideas…

 

Ocho - Oh, I love your ideas kids!

Pastor Joy - Me too. We have a very generous God and God has taught us to call on God when we’re afraid. God gives us enough to share so we don’t have to fight for resources. God keeps teaching us that we’re free from sin and death, fear and scarcity so that we can love more and more generously… and we can definitely be a part of that. God's Building a Culture of Generosity--God's Changing Things for Good!

By the way, God sees you as beautiful, Ocho!

Ocho - Really? Me?

Pastor Joy - Yes! And we do too! And every one of you kids, in God’s eyes, you are beautiful! So, as you are going back to your seats, you can pass that message on to someone on your way– In God’s eyes, you are beautiful!

In God’s eyes, you are beautiful… pass it on!

Building a Culture of Generosity – God’s Amazing Generosity

Exodus 33 & 34 

“Never since has there arisen a prophet in Israel like Moses, whom the Lord knew face to face.”

Ah… Moses. 

Saved by the midwives Shiprah and Puah, his sister Miram, his mother and the Pharoah’s daughter. Moses – raised by his own enslaved people and the ruling class.

Moses, who fled Egypt for Midian, married Zipporah, was called by God in a burning bush to go back to Egypt—Moses, asked to do something he didn’t at all feel qualified to do—but with the help of his brother Aaron, he did it.

Moses, who was venerated and hated by the people who he led out of Egypt into 40 years of wilderness wandering.

Moses, who kept intervening for that whole people with God… but who would not see the end of their journey with them.

Moses… who found God’s favor, who knew God’s name…

In chapter 33, verse 23, we learn that God shows Moses all God’s goodness safely by passing by Moses while he’s protected in the cleft of the rock… not God’s face but God’s back is something Moses could experience without dying. But by chapter 34, when Moses is remembered after his death at age 120, they remember Moses seeing God face to face.

 

You can see why so many storytellers and filmmakers have tried to bring this epic story to life. You can see why the Israelites wept for 30 days when Moses died. Moses’ cross-cultural life spanned an amazing era full of transformation for the people. And although Moses did not enter the “promised land” with them, he certainly set them up for success, passing the spirit of wisdom on to Joshua who led them into the next part of their story. 

 

So, here the story ends for now with the death of Moses. We began in the summer following the stories of ancestors from Genesis and Exodus who were Anything But Ordinary—following their lives into a new theme—Building a Culture of Generosity—and today, we sit in wonder at God’s Amazing Generosity. Do you remember the song, Dayenu? If God had only brought them out of Egypt, but would not have fed them manna in the wilderness, it would have been enough. If God had only fed them in the wilderness but wouldn’t have brought them the Torah (the Ten Best Ways or 10 Commandments), it would have been enough. If God had only brought them the Torah, but had not brought them to the promised land, it would have been enough. God continued to be generous beyond measure to this little group, insignificant by comparison to the more well-known cultures and peoples around them… 
God taught them how to be strong, how to endure, how to be good neighbors.

 

This fall, we have a wonderful Bible study teacher who has written the Bible studies for Gather magazine – the resource we use for the CLC Women’s Bible Studies. Pastor Meghan Johnston Aelabouni is the ELCA Theologian-in-Residence for the Middle East and North Africa desk. She and her spouse, Gabi, who is also an ELCA pastor, live in Jerusalem. They cannot write too much on social media these days as the conflict in Palestinian territories and Israel is very intense, but months ago, she wrote this beautiful study about Holy Places from the context of serving in that place. It’s a land where thousands of people travel to visit the ancient stones. The hosts ask visitors “Please do not only visit the ancient stones. Please also come to visit the living stones.” In other words, notice how we--the Palestinian Christians living through occupation--take seriously their call to be “living stones built together spirituality into a dwelling place for God.” (1 Peter 2:4 and Ephesians 2:22).

 

Her study reminded us that:

Many people outside of Israael/Palestine know little about the Palestinian church. The global Christian community does not always recognize the importance of these living stones. Mindful of our sinful history of anti-Semitism and of verses in the Hebrew Bible identifying the land of Israel as a “promised land” for the Jewish people, many Christians (sometimes unknowingly) support policies that oppress their fellow Christians in this land, alongside their Muslim neighbors. Palestinian theologian Daniel Bannoura Has pointed out that for Christians, all biblical interpretation is through the lens of the gospel—that word meaning “good news.” If the Bible is interpreted to say that Palestinians do not have the right to exist in their own homeland, Bannoura says,
“This is when the Bible stops being good news for [us], God’s word for [us], and begins to be God’s word against [us]. If the Gospel is not good news to me as a Palestinian, and good news to the Israeli and to the Jew and to the Arab and to the Muslim, and to all people from all backgrounds, it’s not the gospel. It’s not good news.” In other words, if the Holy Land is not sanctuary for all of God’s people, it is not sanctuary.

The call to be the living stones of God’s presence in this and every place is rooted in the fact that we once were “strangers and aliens” ourselves. We embody sanctuary for others because we, too, need and receive sanctuary from God…

As the people of Israel return, they are called to be a “light to the nations,” to build a community of justice that cares for the vulnerable, and to recognize that they are not the only people God has invited home. (Gather, September/October 2023).

 

So how do we respond to Zionists—Christian or Jewish—who believe that the land of Israel is Israel’s alone to occupy, no matter how that impacts others? How do we respond to scriptures, taken out of context, that seem to reinforce that the modern-day state of Israel can do whatever they want—just or unjust—and that our nation is compelled to fund and support them out of fear or out of loyalty?

What do we do with our nostalgic visions of “promised land” and “manifest destiny” that are as problematic in the Holy Land as they have been in the United States?

What do we think as we look with Moses over into the “promised land” and see that it is not empty and free-for-the-taking but inhabited, filled with people who also need their home? 

How do we honor those who were already living here, always living there, whoever the political rulers happened to be? How do we work together for peace and equity and justice for all vs. just for some?

 

These are questions that we need to ask and wrestle with as we consider all the ancestors of Moses, that prophet who knew God’s generosity so well, and remember together that God’s people are always called to be a community of justice who cares for the vulnerable. God’s “welcome home” is for the original people in the land, and Israelis and Palestinians, Jews and Christians, Arabs and Muslims, Native Americans and immigrants, and to all people from all backgrounds. That is what makes a land holy, God’s generosity and the action of extending it to one another—recognizing in everyone who lives in the land, you are God’s living stones.

Building a Culture of Generosity: Anxiety, Anger & Changing Your Mind

Exodus 32: 1-14 and Matthew 22: 1-14

What gets in the way of generosity?

Anxiety.

We don’t like it when there are delays. God’s people in the wilderness didn’t like it either. Moses had been gone too long. What if he was dead? What if he was never coming back? What if this God that Moses kept talking about wasn’t real? In Egypt, they had gods that you could see—statues, painted stories—what did they have out here? Just words.

They needed something—tangible. So Aaron meets their stated need. He asks everyone to give their gold—something they value—and he makes a golden calf—and their anxiety eased a bit as they had something to gather around. They brought food and drink and had a party. It eased their anxiety.

 

God gets so angry—after all, it was just last week that God laid out the Ten Best Ways—what in the world? How could they forget so quickly? How could they think a gold statue—however beautiful—could replace the living God. 

God just about gives up on them—they will never be anything but slaves in their minds and their hearts—they can’t trust. They can’t believe in anything they can’t see. They have more faith in gold, in food, in drink than in God. They just don’t get it and they never will. 

Let’s just destroy them all and start all over.

 

But Moses calls on God to remember who God is.

You might be justified in doing that evil thing—in destroying those who don’t value you—but think how that will look to everyone else.

Do you want all the Egyptians to think you just brought all these people out here just to kill them?

Do you remember the promises you’ve made to all the ancestors?

You said - ‘I will multiply your descendants like the stars of

heaven, and all this land that I have promised I will give to your descendants, and they shall inherit it forever.’ ” And God changed God’s mind.

God forgives them.

God changes God’s mind and if God can do that… I wonder if we can, too?

 

When we think about the world’s most un-solvable conflicts… where people are suffering because no one can see the other side, no one can give one bit of ground, no one can change their mind… but instead, we are stuck in deep patterns of anger and fear, leading only to sorrow… I wonder if this story about God changing God’s mind—because of who God really is—might help us find a way forward that is more generous.

 

In Jesus’ parable about a great banquet, those invited do not come.

I have had the experience of hosting a party—a party to which no one came.

Maybe you’ve had that experience, too. Maybe like me, you wondered what you did wrong. Was it because I invited the whole class or because we had it at the park, rather than a fancy hotel or theme park? Was it just because people didn’t really know us so didn’t want to take the risk? Was it just a busy day? An hour went by and not one person showed up—and we had a big spread of fruit and cupcakes—so after a bit, we did actually start inviting total strangers at the park. We’re having a party over here and we have more than enough—as you can clearly see—come please and help yourself. 

After that first tricky time, it became our mode for all outdoor parties. We have more than enough—have a cupcake! Hey you, over there—come and share in this feast!

 

But what still doesn’t make sense to me is the person who won’t accept the generosity of another.

When I have invited people to share a meal with me at Shobi’s, I have had multiple people respond, “Oh, I could never accept a free meal.”

What?!

 

The idea that any of us can live like that—as people who never accept a free gift from anyone—is a fundamental misunderstanding about the ways that we are interwoven as people. We are at least interdependent, if not dependent, on so many others… and if we cannot see that, we are not really recognizing the truth. We are completely dependent on farmers, fruit pickers, truck drivers, grocery shelf stockers. Parents, nurses, childcare providers, teachers, garbage collectors, factory workers, emergency personnel. Maybe we say to ourselves that we pay for all that—but really, so very much of all of life rests heavily on others who serve us, depends on us being willing to serve far beyond what we are paid, right? 

We are all receiving free meal after free meal after free meal. 

And so on most Tuesdays, I go outside to the big blue Shobi’s truck and practice living in a world where I can recognize others’ generosity to me.

 

A pastor friend of mine wrote an interesting response to the parable of the wedding feast this week. She wrote that as she was listening to the part where one last-minute invited guest was asked to leave because he wasn’t wearing the right thing, she remembered and realized… she had done it. She had been officiating a wedding during the part of our shared stories where we needed to wear masks. It was the universal rule at the time. One couple in attendance, relatives of those about to be married, refused to wear masks—even when asked nicely, even when masks were provided. The couple chose to leave rather than wear the mask. This pastor felt sick about having to ask and then about the result. It was shocking and sad that they would choose to walk out of the wedding rather than wear a mask for it.

Then she noted-- The images we get throughout Matthew are of the Kingdom of Heaven as a place where the weakest and most vulnerable have an inherent place at the table. 

And I would love for us to think about what it means to refuse to abide by practices that keep the most vulnerable welcome at the banquet, too.

 

What do we wear as we come to the banquet? Do we wear an attitude of deepest welcome? Do we remember how others have been gracious to us—and pass on that same graciousness? Do we come remembering what it was like when we were at our most vulnerable—and how someone in that moment either met us with kindness or decided to judge (or left rather than to have to give even an inch). If we have done well at mercy, well done. If we have not done well, let’s do better. In the example of even God, who can let go of anger and judgement, and resolve to act in deeper grace and mercy.

 

In our worship, every day, God spreads a table before us. Invites us to come freely. Invites us to turn away from all the things that offer us false security. Even in times of anxiety and hardship we can connect with the peace of God which in beyond all understanding. With deeper joy, we are invited to feast at the table of the Lord, and then go forth to share generously with others hungering and thirsting for the abundant life of God.