Sharing in Wonders

Psalm 4 and Luke 24:36b-48

Close your eyes and think a moment… What is your favorite memory of a meal?

Why did you pick that one? Was it the food? The company? The whole experience?

 

One of the memories that floats straight to the top for me is kind of unexpected. The setting was Powell, Wyoming along one of those iconic fast-moving streams. We were invited to a day of fly-fishing. Now, if you have just a little trouble imagining me in decked out in camouflage with full hip waders, carrying the extremely long pole of a fly fisher… well, you’re right. It’s only happened that one time and it only happened through the grace of Ben’s uncle Ken… an avid fly-fisherman who basically carried me with one arm so that I could have this remarkable experience and not end up washed away by the strong mountain waters. We fished for a bit… Mostly Ken caught the fish, although he cheered us on when we caught a few, and then we came to shore where his son had a campfire going. Ken and Jason fileted, breaded and cooked all those fish over the open fire. It was an incredibly memorable meal—just fish, so many fresh fish, a delicious and once-in-a-lifetime kind of experience.

 

So many of the resurrection meals that Jesus shared with wondering disciples involved fish—and I can almost taste it with them—the fresh fish shared on the beach, the fish passed around the table. This community depended on fishing for their livelihood before they ever met Jesus. Fish remained an essential part of their lives and here, fish reveals that Jesus’ resurrection is not just a powerful vision or act of loving imagination but Jesus is real. Jesus is eating.
Jesus’ living body is real enough that they are asked to share fish.

It’s a wonder how it all happened—and at the same time, they share in the meal and begin to be able to trust that life has actually defeated death. It’s wondrous and wonderful and more…

 

Like some of you who shared with us your wondrous experience at the solar eclipse, ELCA Pastor Katie Hines-Shahwho is pastor of Redeemer Lutheran Church in Evanston, Illinois shared her experience. Here are her words:

Like an eclipse, Jesus’ reappearance is entirely predictable.

Eclipses happen every 18 months or so. Astronomers know exactly when and where they will occur… these events are so common that some people have seen dozens of eclipses in their lifetimes. They know what’s going to happen.

Likewise - over and over Jesus told the disciples exactly what was going to happen during Holy Week…like an eclipse, Jesus’ resurrection is something you can prepare for.

 

When the eclipse actually came, [Pastor Katie] felt ready – although there still would be surprises. Depending on which Gospel you read, Jesus’ disciples have had a lot of time to get ready… hearing scripture, worshipping in the temple, accompanying Jesus as he taught and healed and worked miracles--this seems like good preparation. And yet, in all of the resurrection appearance stories, there is a lack of recognition and even fear. [All of the witnesses] went through their own period of disbelief and wonder when they first encountered the risen Christ. There is no amount of preparing that really would be enough to understand the resurrection.

 

And maybe this too is a lesson from the eclipse.

Pastor Katie writes—We had scouted out a good spot and had our glasses on as the sun started to disappear. Just as I expected, it grew steadily darker, although honestly, I was surprised how much light even the smallest sliver of the sun produces. Until we reached totality. And it was shocking. It was like someone had flipped a switch. The whole world turned dark in an instant. Dawn reversed, pinks and blues peeking out at the edges of the entire horizon. The sun, was suddenly gone, completely obscured by a totally circular, endlessly black sphere. The rays around were eerily white, and we could look at comfortably with the naked eye. Solar flares eked out at the edges, a strange red dot on the bottom of the sun. Jupiter and Venus appeared, perfectly in alignment. But that wasn’t all.

 

When totality first started, I was surprised how frightening it was.  We all got really quiet. Though it was midday, even the birds stopped singing. All the people moved close together, friend, stranger, and family alike - a primal awe overwhelming us. I had heard that during eclipses people had gotten engaged and that wars had ceased. It suddenly all made sense. The eclipse revealed, we were so small in the midst of the universe. So vulnerable. So much human nonsense wasn’t all that important in the greater scheme of things. All we could do was grab one another for a moment and hang on – to life, to love, to hope.

 

“Touch me,” Jesus says to the shocked disciples. “I am not a ghost.” Jesus knew, he knows, our need for the concrete, our need to be together. I think there is a reason Jesus appears most often to groups…
We need each other for support, for perspective, for hope. No one can do this life thing on our own. So, we need to be ready, not for the miracle – for who can be ready for that? – but for the other part – to be in fellowship, to reach out in love, to admit our mistakes, to say we are sorry—all of this is what makes human relationship possible. Life is too short to delay.

Jesus’ resurrection, like the eclipse, is a reminder that the world can change at any time.

Our best preparation is community.

 

Pastor Katie continues - As the sun reappeared, first as a diamond as if on a ring, then as a crescent, then as a whole, I felt something strangely familiar. It was a sort of near-death experience, the elation that happens when something terrible or new happens and yet you survive… And it really was familiar, and it took me a minute to realize why.

 

It’s the way I feel every Easter. It’s the way I feel when I worship. When we gather and share the stories of [God’s saving acts]. When we hear the story of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection, we come close. When we pray for our friends who are sick, when we grieve those who have died, when we celebrate a baptism we understand. As we confess our sin, as we sing together, as we share the peace, as we join in the meal, we are like those first disciples in that locked room. We are like those who gathered to view the eclipse. We get that feeling. We individuals are small in the universe, but God has made us for community…Even in our disbelieving and wondering we can’t help but confess – we have seen something amazing.

 

This week, I went to visit Charles Engleking in the last hours of his earthly life. I entered the hospice building to meet the caring people who were caring for his body as he took his last breaths. I told them some of the stories of Chuck’s life here in Christ—how he was part of the special needs Confirmation class in              ; how before the pandemic, Chuck always carried the Ethiopian processional cross in and out of worship—every Sunday—and on the day of the Christmas program, how Chuck held high the Christmas star. I told about how much he loved to have a new Thrivent Action team shirt and how he loved being part of the KICKS summer program. I shared how toward the end of his time of being able to come to worship, how it was hard to keep Chuck from eating too much sugar at the coffee and fellowship time—which we really tried to do on behalf of his health and his healthcare workers who were trying to manage Chuck’s serious diabetes. I told about how even after Chuck could no longer bear the weight of the processional cross safely, he still called himself and we acknowledged that he was the “Pastor’s helper.” I told them how Chuck asked for prayer before each worship service with the preacher and worship leader.

 

On Thursday, I sat with Chuck and listened to his breathing, played some music and hummed a few songs. Mostly classics but also this new one came to mind--“Be not afraid, sing out for joy, Christ is risen, Alleluia. Be not afraid, sing out for joy, Christ is risen, Alleluia!”

A few hours after I left, Chuck peacefully died… and now just imagine the reunion taking place between Chuck and his family and his family in Christ—so many beloved ones were there to welcome Chuck into eternal life, to join with him in the feast that has no end… a feast in which we can imagine that Chuck no longer has to watch what he eats.

 

In our welcome words today, we hear, ‘These meals that the risen Christ shares with the disciples, show us the meaning of the meals we share each Sunday. In Christ’s words and in the meal we share, we learn and re-learn the meaning of Jesus’ suffering, death, and resurrection. In the meals we share, we taste and see the risen Christ. We have this time for sharing in the wonders—the everyday and remarkably rare wonders of sun, moon, planets and stars;  the gifts of life in community; the once-in-lifetime wonders of transitioning from life to death to life.

We have this time, this space, for remembering in a world that can change in a moment, the deep gift and wondrous miracle of all this we share in Christ.

Embodied Unbound

Easter Sunday - Isaiah 25: 6-9 and Mark 16:1-8                        Image from A Sanctified Art

Alleluia! Christ is risen!
Christ is risen indeed, alleluia!

“I’m not quite sure what I’m doing for Easter yet.”
If you heard something like this—or if you felt it this week—do I want to go to church this Easter Sunday?—you’re not alone.

The very first Easter was filled with uncertain people, people wondering what to do—and walking toward an empty tomb was not immediately joyful but full of all kinds of feelings—fear, uncertainty, ambivalence, wonder. The first response to the resurrection news from Mark in that they said nothing to anyone because they were afraid.
And that sure sounds like a bizarre ending to the story but turns out, it was just the beginning.  

Other writers took on this story—Matthew, Luke, John—and filled in more details… they told stories that described that after people met angels who said Jesus was raised from the dead that Jesus met Mary in garden, broke bread, ate fish, showed that one can live again even after being wounded.

All these stories try to show, not just tell, how the Risen Christ was embodied… the risen One breathed, ate, touched, forgave… still, in the resurrection, God is completely committed to bodies, to real life, to earth.
But also, in the resurrection, Jesus is… 

Not bound by the harsh rules of life and death anymore.

 

Today, you have come to see for yourself and let’s just be clear that we know you’re not here because you’re bored and have nothing else to do… Maybe you’re here today because 

·  You are searching for meaning and trying to understand a world that is different than it was just a year or two ago.

· Or because you’ve been exposed to different faith communities and theologies, and you need a safe, reliable place to question, wrestle, and discern.

· Or because someone has diminished your human dignity and you long to be known, seen, and loved as the Beloved of God.

Maybe you’re here because

· Or because life has gotten progressively harder, and you need spiritual strength and power that only comes through community

· Or because you are grieving and mourning and need faithful community to accompany them.

· Or because you are tired of the relentless grind of productivity and work and want to establish restoring rhythms of life

· Or because you’ve had enough of shallow interactions and dysfunctional relationships and you long for healing

· Or because you are looking for an encounter with God[1]

Regardless of your reason for being here, these are all good reasons to be here—all of these are possible in this space, with God’s help—all of these are things God does among us, with us, for us.

As you may have read in the welcome words… Jesus is alive, and God has swallowed up death forever. With Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome, we may feel astonished and confused, unsure of what to make of the empty tomb. But this is why we gather: to share stories of the hope we have, to accompany one another and be part of the new life that Jesus’ death and resurrection brings into being.

Yesterday evening, there was a gathering here called the Easter Vigil. There was fire, there were stories and singing and prayers. Then, those who were present witnessed the baptism of Soonee—and got to hear the story of how 10 years ago—her family was baptized. So, it was both the 10^th anniversary of three family members’ baptism and the baptism of long-awaited, much loved daughter and sister, Soonee. Water splashed over her small head, she received prayers and anointing with oil, and we all made promises to one another in light of all the promises God makes to us. We remembered together that Soonee is a beloved child of God.

We have so many embodied practices when we gather as church—we use water and oil and words and prayers—because we want and need to know deep in our bodies how much we are loved. There are so many voices that tell us otherwise. So, we practice the liberating reality of Christ’s death and resurrection here so we can know… as sure as we live and breathe… that Jesus is present, in and around our real bodies, and freeing us from anything that comes in the way of God’s loving embrace. 

In a few moments, we’ll gather with an invitation to come and eat the bread of Holy Communion. Everyone is welcome at this meal where we receive a little bit of bread. It’s bread that Jesus said is God’s body. We eat it and become God’s body. We’ll share from the cup that Jesus said makes a new covenant—a promise, a blessing—between God and us.

All of this is so that we can experience God’s presence within, in community and beyond these walls—we get a taste of these realities, these promises here so that we will be able to glimpse the Risen Christ everywhere. So that we will be free, unbound… even as we are grounded in the loving reality of God who is so committed to life with us that God altered the realities of death and life forever—transforming death into something temporary and life into an opportunity to taste the love that begins now and continues… forever. 

This is why we know that Jesus’ resurrection is not a comeback but a transformation, not just a guide to the afterlife but a guide to life now, not a happy ending but a new beginning.[2]

In word and feast, prayers and songs, we celebrate God’s unending love, and leave not in terror but filled with love to share with all the world.
Alleluia! Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed, Alleluia!

 

---

[1] From a message by Jennifer Watley Maxell, “Don't Misinterpret the Moment,” March 19, 2024, The Ministry Collaborative

[2] Steve Garnaas-Holmes’ https://unfoldinglight.net/2023/06/01/easter-sunday-2/

 

Life Altered

Easter Vigil – Baptism of Soonee Vangyang                            Image from A Sanctified Art

This is the night!

How wonderful to gather with you this evening around the fire that represents God’s mighty presence from the creation until now—another moment of God’s new creation. 

How wonderful to gather with you this evening around five great stories of God’s mighty acts—knowing that we could tell many, many more—and sing God’s praises long into this night.

How wonderful to gather with you this evening as we celebrate with Soonee, long awaited precious daughter and sister, newly baptized to remind us all how God welcomes and calls us God’s very own beloved children.

 

Ten years ago at the Easter Vigil at Lutheran Church of Peace in Maplewood, we celebrated the baptisms of Vameng, Pakou and Sanklai. When we first met, Pakou and Vameng expressed their desire to be baptized but asked to wait for their baby’s birth so that they could all three be baptized together. I have such a vivid memory of that beautiful evening together—it was rainy, we had to modify how we did that outside fire time… passing the fire and lighting all our candles inside… but just like tonight, the challenges made it all the more memorable. Tonight, we celebrate your 10^thBaptismal Anniversary, Sanklai, Pakou and Vameng and we celebrate and welcome you, Soonee. 

 

The gift of baptism is a free gift of grace, whether you are given it as an infant or receive it as a child, youth or adult—and it is an opportunity to remember how God reaches out to create a relationship with us. We can water and cultivate that relationship together—as we keep and help each other keep the promises made tonight so that we grow in faith together. 

 

Tonight, we hear some of the very first responses to Jesus’ resurrection… the first glimpses of resurrection, when it was still dark. The first glimpses, the first reports, just revealed that Jesus’ body was missing. Simon Peter saw and believed what Mary said but they did not yet understand what Jesus’ had said—that he must rise from the dead. That is what will sink in as Jesus appears to them again and again, sharing breath, sharing peace, sharing the meal with them not only tonight but for all the time to come.

 

As the Easter Vigil shows us, cultivating a relationship with God and one another can be full of laughter, joy and community. This path is full of responsibilities and promises to one another but also, it’s full of love that makes all burdens lighter. Trusting and understanding comes over all the weeks, months and years to come.

 

Tonight, on the eve of Easter, we get our first taste of the Alleluias that are to come for a week of week—seven Sundays of the Risen Christ appearing to us, surprising us and helping us receive the good news that Jesus not only lived in love and died on the cross but was raised from the dead. And with Jesus’ resurrection, God shows us that death does not have the last word. Life is altered forever because God continuously brings life out of death.

 

Tonight, we experience the heart of God’s baptismal promise and the center of our faith: we are claimed and washed, renewed in the death and resurrection of Christ. We gather to share this meal with all the saints of every time and place to celebrate the good news: Christ is risen indeed! Alleluia! This is the night!     Alleluia! Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed, alleluia!

Altered Alongside our Enemies

Lent 4 - Jeremiah 31: 31-34 and John 12: 20-33                             Detail of Image from A Sanctified Art        

A few weeks ago, one of the youth of our congregation expressed that he wanted to read the Bible more and asked, “What would I recommend?” I shared a Bible with him and we talked about three possibilities of where to start. Of course, you could begin with Genesis and Exodus—great and ancient stories of faith. You could begin with the gospels—Matthew, Mark, Luke & John—the good news of Jesus. You could also pray the Psalms. I’m aware of at least one other member reading the Psalms this Lent—the book that Dietrich Bonhoeffer called the Prayerbook of the Bible. The Psalm for this Sunday is Psalm 31. 

Be gracious to me, O Lord, for I am in distress;
    my eye wastes away from grief, my soul and body also.
¹⁰ For my life is spent with sorrow and my years with sighing;
my strength fails because of my misery, and my bones waste away.

¹¹ I am the scorn of all my adversaries, a horror to my neighbors,
an object of dread to my acquaintances; those who see me in the street flee from me.
¹² I have passed out of mind like one who is dead; I have become like a broken vessel.
¹³ For I hear the whispering of many—terror all around!—as they scheme together against me,
    as they plot to take my life.

¹⁴ But I trust in you, O Lord; I say, “You are my God.”
¹⁵ My times are in your hand; deliver me from the hand of my enemies and persecutors.
¹⁶ Let your face shine upon your servant; save me in your steadfast love.

 

Last Sunday, when I shared with the children the book about a child witnessing the death of George Floyd, one asked me, “Why did they kill him?” All I could say in response in that moment was, “That’s a very good question.” And I’ve thought about her question all week.
Why did they kill him? 

There are always “responses,” theories, ideas (sigh… aren’t there?) as to why bad things happen. There are stories and counter-stories and trying to find the truth of the “why?” 

But so often, there are no real answers to our hardest questions. Especially when someone dies… especially when it is an enemy. Or someone who turned out to be an enemy. Or when death is the enemy. So often, there are no real answers to our hardest questions.

 

There is only being changed… and praying that as we encounter tragedy, injustice, actual evil, that we still remember the themes of Jeremiah who proclaims this truth from God—

You keep breaking relationships, but I keep making them…until the day when our connection will be so deep and so good that I will be part of who you are. Written on your hearts.

 

There is only being altered by our creating God… the same God who causes a single grain of wheat, planted deep in the good soil of earth, to multiply into so much more than it was before it was planted.

 

As Jesus begins to imagine his own impending death, Jesus admits, “Now my soul is troubled.” It’s so very human, so very understandable, not to want to go through the known and unknown aspects of death—pain, anxiety, uncertainty, suffering, grief—but Jesus keeps focused on what the fruit of death will be… that in this death, the ruler of this world is driven out.

The crushing power of death is overturned by the power of love and solidarity and transforms death completely into new life.

 

I think this may be why Jesus describes the pain and suffering and crises of this life not as an end but a beginning. It may look like and feel like death, but to Jesus, it’s the “beginning of the birth pangs.” (Matthew). Something new is being born… something that will last forever.

 

Lauren Wright Pittman is the artist who drew this beautiful cover art inspired by Psalm 31.

The person who feels like a broken vessel is in the very center of this beautiful mandala.  Bent over in grief. The artist describes how she wanted to make it better for the grieving person but stopped herself because, as she describes, “when I’m experiencing grief myself, I just want someone to sit with me in the unresolved, jarring, unsettling space of it all. I want someone to acknowledge and see the wrongness, the ugliness of grief—to see my shattered self and situation for what it is and not try to tape it back together for just a little while…”

She goes on, “As I drew layer after layer, I had to sit in the brokenness with the psalmist and experience…”

“What resulted is an overall flower shape that I wasn’t expecting. I think the message in this is that if we allow ourselves to grieve before God, to really open ourselves up to the difficult inner work that it takes, then that’s where true and profound growth happens… the broken vessel in the middle becomes the seed and center of a blooming flower.”

 

Isn’t this what we hope for ourselves… alongside our enemies…

That somehow all the grief and brokenness could be the seed that dying, could grow into something beautiful, new, blooming… and finally, bearing fruit.

 

Steven Charleston, who wrote the book we are using for reflection on Wednesday evenings, also writes daily reflections on Facebook. Here are two of his reflections from this week:

 

We all have carried our burden of grief. We have all know the weight of worry, especially for those we love. We have struggled to make a difference in a world that seems so far beyond our control. And yet, here we are, still together, [still singing, still watching in wonder]… We trust the Spirit and live into that trust each day. Life can make us hurt. Love can make it better.

 

There are no favorite children in the household of the Spirit. All creatures are beloved in the sight of their creator. While humans may true to pretend otherwise., while they may want to be the chosen ones, the fact is the Spirit does not love some of us more than others. We are all loved and forgiven equally. The Spirit is perfect love and perfect love could not do otherwise. 

 

And so we pray again with the psalmist for the Spirit to keep up this work of changing everything that is broken, grieving, all that makes us enemies…

¹² I have passed out of mind like one who is dead; I have become like a broken vessel.
¹³ For I hear the whispering of many….¹⁴ But I trust in you, O Lord; I say, “You are my God.”
¹⁵ My times are in your hand; deliver me from the hand of my enemies and persecutors.
¹⁶ Let your face shine upon your servant; save me in your steadfast love.

 

And we sing again with St. Patrick to keep becoming more and more connected with God—Creator, Christ and Loving Spirit—

 

 

I bind unto myself today the strong name of the Trinity by invocation of the same,

the Three in One and One in Three. 

 

Christ be with me, Christ within me, Christ behind me, Christ before me,

Christ beside me, Christ to win me, Christ to comfort and restore me.

 

Christ beneath me, Christ above me, Christ in quiet, Christ in danger,

Christ in hearts of all that love me, Christ in mouth of friend and stranger.

 

I bind unto myself today the strong name of the Trinity by invocation of the same,

the Three in One and One in Three. 

Altered through God’s Creativity

Lent 4 - John 3                                                                            Image from A Sanctified Art

In a way, you can empathize with the people of God wandering in the wilderness. Let’s admit it. Many of us like to complain. We certainly can dismiss our leaders and call them weak and ineffective. In fact, that might be one of our favorite ways to treat leaders in these times—elect them and then blame them for absolutely everything. So, we can understand people discouraged on the way—“there is no food, no water, we detest this miserable food…”

But it was another thing when their poisonous complaining became poisonous snakes all around them. They admitted their sin. Moses prayed for them. God provided a way out—look to the serpent and live.

 

In both Hebrew and Greek cultures, the snake around a staff became the symbol of healing medicine… and the ways that medicines can both help and harm.

 

Last weekend, I attended the triennial assembly of the European Descent Lutheran Association for Racial Justice triennial assembly. Since that name is confusing and a mouthful, at the assembly, the group changed its name to White Lutherans for Racial Justice. If you are wondering why a group named that would be necessary, it was founded about 15 years ago at the request of the ethnic associations within our church body. These are the African Descent, American Indian and Alaska Native, Arab and Middle Eastern, Asian and Pacific Islander and Latinx assocications—these 5 groups represent significant numbers of Lutherans but less than 10% of our official membership compared to over 90% white ELCA members. These associations asked for white Lutherans to organize and train to show support for BIPOC members of our church, and to speak and act against racism and white supremacy… and now, 15 years later, those of us who are white Lutherans are being asked to be even clearer about our solidarity and commitment in light of unfolding events in our country and church.

 

I know that members of our own congregation are experiencing the terrible effects of racism daily, and our neighbors are experiencing those things too. One of the Black local leaders shared her own family’s story of the death of her loved one in 2008—a death that resembled what happened to Emmett Till. Here, in St Paul… in 2008. That was years before George Floyd died in broad daylight.

So, our neighbors are asking for those of us who are white in the church to become even more activated in seeking out our neighbors’ stories, even more active in standing present with them in the truth that God so loved the world—including them.

 

I will share just a few details to give a sense of this… people within our congregation experience housing insecurity because of unethical landlords, people fear coming to worship because of anti-Asian violence in our community, some of our family members have been killed, jumped, threatened… do these things ever happen to white people? Yes. And, the systems, trouble and trauma that Black and brown people face are just too common, too much in this country—for those who are part of the global majority but who are considered minority here.

 

And then within our public life as a nation, we hear small numbers of white leaders with very loud voices saying horrible, hateful things about immigrants—words that sound very much like those that Hitler used on the way to World War II. This is toxic in so many ways. It fills people with fear and despair about the present and future.

 

But on Wednesday evenings, we have been hearing stories from others who might have caved in to fear and despair—the original people who lived on this land—whose stories might give us courage and wisdom to act with the kind of all-embracing love that Jesus calls us to today.

 

This past Wednesday evening, we heard about the prophet Smohalla of the Wanupum people of the Pacific Northwest. He had such a deep, protective love for mother earth and for people. Smoholla said, “God told me to look after my people—all are my people.”

Smohalla saw the land as his mother, not to be harmed, not to be sold. In view of this message that Smohalla preached, we wondered together if the earth is listening and waiting on us? Does the earth, who sustains our life, who holds our bodies in death, have something to say to us? 

 

The voice of Smohalla, the voices of scripture, the voice of Jesus are all calling for the same kind of love in action that is the antidote to fear, division and despair. It is like Moses’ snake on a pole—practice trust in God and you will live. It is like the life, witness, death and resurrection of Jesus—who came in love for the whole world, not to judge the world but to save us.

 

This is the antidote to the poison that swirls around and threatens to overtake us.

Love in action. Presence and solidarity with those who suffer.

Care for the earth and the whole creation.

 

Gathered as church community, we have so many resources to practice that kind of creative, love in action. On Wednesday evening, our consultant from Riverside Innovation Hub, Geoffrey Gill came to be with us, listen to us, share with us. He shared his own experience of being in the Boundary Waters for days and sitting on a rock. He described how his mind was so full of words. Then, words fell away and there was music. Still he sat on the rock for hours until finally there was silence and then he was able to be with the fullness of the beauty of creation around him. What a powerful story of connection—and example of how storytelling connects us.

 

So many of you have shared stories like this—the sighting of an owl, a powerful encounter in a kayak with a mother loon, a transformative hike or ski, an eagle along highway 36, deer wandering through your yard—you have witnessed God’s creativity in nature, right here in our neighborhoods and far beyond.

We have also witnessed places of destruction that miraculously have been able to mend and heal, grow and bloom again—with a little care and attention—as we love the earth as one of our closest neighbors, our beloved one.

 

God is so very creative—providing all we need, able to heal deep wounds—

even the evil we bring on ourselves and each other is not beyond God’s power to save.

We are invited into all kinds of God’s creative practices so that we can live like Jesus—with the words “God so loved the world” on our lips and in our hearts, remembering that God’s love never comes to judge but to save, like the very best medicine comes to heal, repair and bring us back to life.

                        

Altered Through Stories We Don’t Trust

Mark 8: 31-38                                                                                Image from A Sanctified Art

Peter just can’t believe it. In the verses just before today’s gospel, Peter identifies who Jesus really is—you are the Christ, the Son of the Living God! And Jesus says no to say anything to anyone. But then Jesus talks quite openly about how there will be suffering, trials, death… resurrection? Jesus said all this quite openly.

What do we do when the story of Jesus, the savior of the world, includes so much suffering and pain? Do we only focus on the glorious end?
Or does the suffering of God leave space for our own suffering? 

I think that mostly, we hope and wish that God would take suffering away. We want for God to move in the world and in our own lives in such a way that there will be less suffering and pain. We know people who live with pain all the time—and that includes some of us gathering today. It is so very hard to live with pain. It changes us and not always in the ways we would like to be changed. Like Peter, we are so likely to say to Jesus—can’t you change this story? 
Wouldn’t it be SO MUCH BETTER and easier if the way your story unfolded involved… well, less of the suffering and dying part?

So we’re tempted to keep laser focus on the glorious end—the resurrection life that awaits us, the resurrection moments that we taste along the way. But, if we ignore the suffering of real life, trying to pretend it doesn’t exist, we’re missing something too.

Just in the way that Jesus rejected Satan’s offers to Jesus to grasp power over human suffering in the wilderness, Jesus rejects Peter’s rebuke. We can’t really understand it but somehow Jesus understood that the way for him would involve suffering, rejection, death and resurrection. 

Then, Jesus invites followers, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.” 

This reminds me of the first prophet that we gathered to listen to last Wednesday evening. We are gathering on Wednesday evenings in Lent for a delicious soup supper, and then for conversation on the book We Survived the End of the World: Lessons from Native America on Apocalypse and Hope by Steven Charleston. Steven Charleston is both an Episcopal priest, former Bishop and theologian who taught at Luther Seminary. He is also a Choctaw elder and sees spiritual lessons for all of us in the terrible suffering and hope-filled survival of Native American communities. This past week, we learned how Ganiodaiio, also known as “Handsome Lake,” turned his culture upside down—introducing foreign concepts such as sin and confession—as part of a visionary, Spirit-led way to help his people transition from a completely communal worldview to a place of embracing some aspects of personal responsibility. Many people still suffered, many people still died… but a remnant survived. Steven Charleston asks us how might we learn from this spiritual vision of turning culture upside down.
In such an me-centered culture, how might God be ready to turn our culture upside down? Charleston imagines that the cross ahead of us that we must take up together is a radical shift from a “me” dominant culture to a “we” reality—in which we are willing to sacrifice personal comfort for the good of all.

 

This is not an argument for suffering in silence from abuse. Instead, Jesus invites us into love in action. Love in action might often look like a harder path, though.

When we are surrounded by a whole culture that tells us… some people have it so much easier than you, don’t you want what they have? Just buy this… just build that… just improve this about yourself… then you’ll have a dreamier life.
Instead, God calls followers into a truth-filled, connected life.

This week, Ben heard a moving story on NPR. It was an interview with a close friend of Aleksei Navalny, Russia’s most prominent political leader who opposed President Vladimir Putin. He had been living in exile in Germany but felt a strong sense that in order to be a Russian politician, he needed to be with the Russian people. He returned to Russia, knowing that he would be imprisoned and last week, he died in a remote prison at age 47.

When the interviewer asked his friend, “He went back to Russia and then he was killed. Isn’t that the worst thing that could have happened?”
And Navalny’s friend said—No, the worst thing would have been if he stayed in Germany. His message to the Russian people was not to give up and to live without fear. So people knew when he came back to Russia that he was really with them. Now, there is a whole generation of young Russians who will remember what he did and will not be intimidated by the current regime.[1]

At the end of the story, they had a clip of his mother’s voice, as she stood in front of the Arctic prison, asking for his body. We are not all called to make this same kind of sacrifice of our lives—but we can certainly recognize the ways this story mirrors the story of Jesus, and the ways it calls us.

We heard at Maureen’s funeral these powerful words – “When we were baptized in Christ Jesus, we were baptized into his death. We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, so that as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might live a new life. For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we shall certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his.”

We have doubts and fears along the way of life—of course we do—but what might happen if we name the doubts and fears… and allow God, maker of heaven and earth; allow Jesus, the resurrection and life, who suffered death for all humanity, who rose from the grave to open the way to eternal life; allow Holy Spirit, the author and giver of life, the comforter of all who sorrow, our sure-confidence and everlasting hope; allow this transforming God and their stories to change us anyway?
It might turn our culture upside down. It might help us trust. It might be God’s dream.

---

[1] For the full interview-- https://www.nytimes.com/2024/02/22/podcasts/the-daily/navalny-putin-russia.html?rref=vanity

 

In Christ, We Gain Vision

Transfiguration of Jesus

Today, I want to begin with words from Joy McElroy, Director of Cherish All Children. These are words she shared in her weekly Wednesday prayer.

 

The Transfiguration is one of those surreal stories of the Bible. The disciples were terrified, they didn’t know what to say, they hear God’s voice telling them to listen to Jesus, and then they’re sent back down the mountain. Peter jumps into problem solving mode offering to set up their dwellings and stay. But God intervenes – listento my Son, the Beloved.
 
These past few weeks have included experiences of fear, pain, grief, and anger for some of my beloveds, and I have thought at times “This is getting to be too much” so I jump in and try to solve it all. And then I remember God’s voice telling me to listen. Listen to the one who is called the Beloved and who calls each one of us beloved.  
 
I’ve been reading Osheta Moore’s book “Dear White Peacemakers” and I love the way she so graciously calls us into our belovedness as a way to enter into anti-racism work. This [perspective] informs [Cherish All Children’s] work to prevent sexual exploitation and trafficking, dismantling systems and structures that have marginalized some communities, making them more vulnerable to exploitation. She expresses,

“I often wonder why Jesus began his ministry standing in line with the poor, the outcasts, the forgotten, the ones riddled with internalized hatred. The Spirit of God, the Spirit that calls us the Beloved, is the Spirit that makes us whole. There is no clearer way to discern the presence of God’s Spirit than to identify the movements of unification, healing, restoration, and reconciliation.”

 
Our work to share resources and support one another in faith communities may not be considered “mountaintop” experiences like that of the Transfiguration, and yet these daily actions may be just what is required of us. Coming down the mountain, being with each other, holding each other up.

Joy, thank you so much for that beautiful reflection, highlighting the call to listen to Jesus (rather than jump right into “solve it” mode). Thank you for the invitation to daily actions that resemble Jesus’ and the disciples’ path—listening, coming down from the mountain, being with each other, holding each other up.

This week, Ann [Jalonen] and Joy [McElroy] and I, along with neighbors from close by and from greater Minnesota, with watershed and ecology experts, with those from government and an energizing consulting team, gathered to be part of the Capitol Mall Design Framework charrette. This was a word that was new to me-- A Charrette is a collaborative planning process that harnesses the talents and energies of all interested parties to create and support a master plan that represents transformative community change. Today a “Charrette” combines creative, intense working sessions with public workshops and open houses. 

So we gathered in working teams to listen to each others’ ideas and dream big together about what could be present in the Capitol Mall and Capitol Area to bring vitality and vibrancy—and just to say that while of course there were voices present to remind the group what has been tried and has failed, there was also such a spirit of excitement and energy around what could be. What if we dared to dream bigger than our fears and past disappointments? What if the Capitol Area could have bathrooms and benches, prairie and indigenous healing herbs, community gardens and picnic spots and water features and playgrounds? What if it could be a place where thousands of people gathered not just to protest but for fun and community? What if people felt interested in coming to these spaces with groups of friends or family to picnic, rest and play? What if it could honor all the people—both the original people who have been here for 12,000 years—and all the rest who have arrived these last 200 years?

In a week when we have heavy machinery in every direction, opening up our church to be visible in all directions for the first time, it was amazing to keep imagining what could be. Some of these plans will start to be implemented right away, even as soon as 2024. Going home from the full day of work together on Tuesday evening, I drove from the History Center up Rice Street and for the first time, I caught a glimpse of our church building, lighted and visible… and it took my breath away. We are transfigured for a moment. This place now is the only standing building in our block—how might we continue to show ourselves as a beacon of hope and light, even as the spaces around us are put back together in new ways. 

In this season of accompaniment, listening to our neighbors even more deeply, how can we continue this work that comes from God—to be with each other and hold each other up, especially when we’re wondering what’s ahead and what in the world God might be calling us to next?

All this season, we’ve repeated these words in the Affirmation of Faith—and again today, we’ll say them—“I could fail every test, miss every goal, drop every ball, and I would still be God’s beloved. Therefore, I cling to this promise like a rock in the storm. I anchor myself with this good news, allowing the anxiety of the day to roll over me as best I can, because I know where I belong. I am a child of God. I am beloved. I strive to live this way.” Today, let’s breathe that truth in again… and speak it together and take it with us.

Let us pray  [the prayer from Joy’s Wednesday Prayer] - 
God of mountaintops and valleys, we come to you with our pains, fears, and loving concern for others. We are each other’s beloved. Help us to hear the cries of those in need and come together to hold one another in your loving care.  Amen.