Dec. 1, 2013 Sermon - Hope (scribble notes version - not a finished copy)

December 1, 2013

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!

Yes, on top of everything else -- Thanksgiving, Chanukkah, and Advent -- today is the beginning of the Church Year. 

We have just survived one of the most recent forms of American commerce and consumerism, that giant hashtag known as "Black Friday."  It got its name not because of anything to do with the holiday, but it is traditionally that day of the year in which businesses finally end up back in the black with their profits. But the "blackness" also denotes a bit of gloom and doom as we recall some of the horror stories we hear about people being trampled underfoot in order to get the best deal on a flatscreen at Wal-Mart.

As if that weren't enough, this is followed by Cyber Monday.  I just saw a cartoon that said, "May your Black Friday injuries not be so severe as to keep you from clicking your mouse on Cyber Monday."

All in good fun -- but is it?  Could it be that we might be missing something? 

Please pray with me.

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Ring! Ring! Ring!!  

WAKE UP!! it's the alarm clock!  How many of you actually get out of bed the first time the alarm goes off? 

 How many press the snooze button and listen to a little more music, dozing for another 10-20 minutes before getting up?

As I was pondering this sermon, I was actually quite excited at all the possibilities to be found in today's readings.  It's almost impossible, especially for me, to focus on just one.  "Sleepers, Wake!"  seems an obvious enough theme for the first Sunday in Advent.  But how do we preach being awake when we're not really dealing with a sleeping society, but a sleep-deprived one? 

How many of us actually get the recommended 7 or 8 hours of sleep?

It seems to me that one of the newer phenomena of late is not a drowsy, sleeping people, but an overstimulated. anesthetized one.  We may not be awake or paying attention, but instead of being asleep, we tend to hit the cultural snooze button.  Just a few more minutes before we really have to face reality. Can't we just buy a little more time to maintain our comfortable, painless, buzz?  Even in Jesus' day, as in the days of Noah, before the Flood,  people were anesthetizing themselves in routine and entertainment -- eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage.

Today, we hear alarming statistics.   Apparently 58% of smart phone users don't go ONE HOUR without checking their phones, and I, sadly, am probably among them.

I was looking for further statistics when I happened to stumble on a startling headline from just this past week:  "San Francisco Train Passengers Too Distracted by Phones to Notice Shooter's Gun in Plain Sight."  I am not making this up!  "According to surveillance video, (the gunman) pulled out a .45-caliber pistol, raised it, pointed it across the aisle, put it down and continued to pull it out multiple times , even wiping his nose with the handgun.  Absorbed in their phones, not one of the dozens of passengers reacted until he fired a bullet into the back of (one of the passengers)."  Shocking.  Our phones, helpful as they may be, have become a form of a cultural snooze button.

Martin Luther King, Jr. put it this way, "We must accept finite disappointment but never lose sight of infinite hope."  

Today we are talking about HOPE.  I've shared a couple of Debbie Downer stories with me, but neglected to mention that fantastic article about Pr. Tricia, Feast of Justice, and the marvelous things God does in this place.  Thanks be to God, Amen?

Todays' reading from Matthew's Gospel - Not entirely words of hope to me.  I admit to having some baggage about this.  As many of you know, I was baptized Lutheran but raised in a Pentecostal denomination, which I now call interesting.  I will always be grateful for this upbringing because it really helped me "learn my Bible," but it was very much a certain version of the Bible with a whole lotta attitude thrown in.  Back in those days verses like those from Matt. 24 scared me.  Like a thief in the night.  Suddenly Jesus was a thief?  He was going to creep up on me in the middle of the night?

As fourth or fifth graders in summer Bible camp, we were fascinated by all the trappings of End Times theology.  We read fiction books, similar to those "Left Behind" series that came out about a decade ago (which my very Lutheran Church History professor affectionately calls the "Home Alone" series).  They were modern adaptations from The book of Revelation -- the Mark of the Beast, the Rapture with its ensuing chaos that included cars running off  roads and airplanes falling out of the sky.  There was persecution of Christians, even to the point of high-tech guillotines.  Stuff perhaps fourth-graders shouldn't read, but I did.  (Harry Potter?) To us at that time, it was exciting in a twisted sort of way.

BUT -- What if Jesus came back and we were at the movie theater?  What if He came back and we were out dancing?  Would we still be able to hear The Trumpet?  What if we missed it?

And so, for several years, particularly in any given stressful moment, I would try to stop and listen for some kind of arpeggiated  brass motive in D major.  Nope, never happened.

But I did get nightmares.  I was afraid.  For a long time.  I began to ask questions.  

some very real questions that all of us ask ourselves at one time or another:

Is Jesus trying to scare us?

When is He coming back?

 Am I ready?  Are WE ready?  How will we know?  

Does the world have to end violently in order for Jesus to return?  

The real question becomes, Will fear get us closer to God?

And the answer is ….?

Been there, done that.  That's called the LAW.  In today's lesson from Isaiah we read that the Law comes from  Zion ("for out of Zion goeth forth instruction") -- and that's what the Law is.  The Israelites needed it as they became a community, leaving Egypt and traveling to the Promised Land.  Many times then, as now, the law created fear.  Fear of condemnation if the laws were not adhered to.

Verse 3 continues = "For out of Zion goeth forth instruction and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem."  I may be reading too much into this --because technically, Zion and Jerusalem can mean pretty much the same thing -- but for some reason the slight difference in these words of Isaiah jumped out at me and made me see it as another form of prophecy -- How cool that Isaiah mentions the WORD (Jesus) and his use of "Jerusalem" makes it more specific, more personal, suggesting what is to come -- the Coming of Christ, the very Word of God come to transform the very way we see and experience God.  Seeing the WORD in OT context gives me HOPE.

No matter how we interpret the story of the Second Coming, we can all agree that no one knows that day or the hour -- that it will be a SURPRISE.  And Surprises bring HOPE.

Just a little over 2000 years ago, the coming of God's Son in human form was a surprise.  We all love surprises, and this is reflected in the way we celebrate Christmas, by giving gifts.  

There are few things more exciting than receiving a gift. (Amen?)  And a gift implies so many different things for many people.  It could be waiting for the birth of a child, it could be knitting, crocheting a scarf or afghan, or making a quilt… As we get older, PROCESS of making a gift for someone else is often as or more fulfilling than receiving it.  

Usually, in Advent, we focus on the process leading up to the celebration of the greatest free gift of all.  We begin in the gloomy, solemn darkness and gradually move into the light by Week 4. We have to do this all the time when we buy gifts.  Once we grow toward adulthood, we realize all too soon that they don't all magically appear.  Just as Isaiah in this morning's reading envisions the weapons of war transformed into instruments of peace, we need to be able to envision where we are going, and do what we need to do in order to make them a reality.  Isaiah had a few other visions, among them, in Chapter 6, which we will be singing about during Communion,in which he saw the Holy One on the throne surrounded by angels.  Or the vision in Chapter 11 about the lion lying down with the lamb.

 This morning I'd like for us to challenge each other, close our eyes, take a deep, long, breath, and envision Christmas Morning 2014.  What do you see?

What have you accomplished in those four weeks? What would you like to see?

Will we finally see Jesus?  Where and how?  What does He look like?

Now, open your eyes. (WAKE UP!)  Go back.  We are at the beginning of the road.  What will it take for you to get where you want to go?  We now have a vision!  With a vision, there is HOPE.

All signs seem to point to HOPE.  Yet I am sure there are quite a few of you who are struggling with this.  The holidays are not your favorite time of year, for any number of reasons.  There may be struggles with finances, family, grief, illness or loneliness.  But try not to stay alone in those struggles.  You have a community in this House of the Lord, and each and every one of us here is called in the name of Christ to BE THERE for you, just for that purpose.  "Bear Ye one another's burdens and so fulfill the law of Christ" - Galatians 6:2.

I just want to put this out there, and although I can only speak for myself, I have heard similar versions of this from many of you as well.

I can be goofy.  I am awkward.  I am messy.  I am late.  But I am here, and I want to be used by God.  I want to be here for YOU and with you.  I am ready to help you bear your burdens, not as your Music Director or Seminarian, but as your sister in Christ. I come to you, and this is what was on my heart this morning before I opened my eyes.  I didn't even need an alarm clock -- but I DID need my cell phone so that I could quickly type it out and save it somewhere:

**Our true Hope is in our Lord, Jesus Christ.  Not because of anything we have done, but because of His amazing, un-humanly-explainable love for us.

We sin because there is a void within us, created by the sin before us which separates us from God.  At one time or another, we end up doing wrong and destructive things (sin) in order to fill the gaping void we feel when that love is not returned.

We are forgiven because the love God has for us is greater than any of our sin. He longs to fill that void within us and is the only One who can. 

Our surrender cones when we realize we cannot prove or create our own goodness by our own strength, or by anything we do. The spirit of criticism abounds in this WORLD, making us think we are the wrong ones. But we are declared righteous not IF, but WHEN the Spirit leads us to repentance and we accept that free gift if salvation through Jesus Christ."

Gifts are fun.  And gifts are FREE.  They don't depend on an "If-Then" contingency, such as "You better watch out, you better not cry, or else…" What are we really teaching our children?   One of our seminary professors, wrote a poem about Elf on a Shelf that really made me think:

I do not like that smirking elf,

the one that sits upon a shelf.

He spies on children every day

reporting all they do and say.

Of course, you know it's all a scam,

disguised as Santa's "Naughty Cam,
 It's meant to keep the kids in line

eliminating Christmas whine.

And yet I think it's more than cruel

and shows that Santa's just a tool.

This season should be filled with joys

instead of frightened girls and boys.

who come to think that love is earned

and you've been bad, , if you get spurned.

I'd rather have my children see

that love's a gift we give for free

And working together we are able to keep that hope in sight.

HOW DO WE GET THERE? Romans 13 shows us how.  Paul even says, "You know what time it is, how it is now the moment for you to wake from sleep.  For salvation is nearer to us now than when we became believers, the night is far gone, the day is here, let us lay aside the works of darkness and put on the armor of light."

LIGHT.  Today is the 5th day of Chanukkah - (unique story)

THE GOOD NEWS

My earlier story at the beginning - Law (fear)

Walking in the light, with a vision = Gospel (hope)

Christ came down to us

Just as the first time Christ came down to earth, He  comes to us again -- as a surprise…A Surprise that is every bit as exciting and pleasant as your favorite present on Christmas Day -- only a million times more.  Hope. With no fear attached.

God lives among us, in Community. (House of the Lord, Isaiah)

God's Voice is heard in our own voices as we sing and worship Him

God's Spirit is on the face of the little baby being dunked in the waters of Holy Baptism. ("This is My Beloved Son…"

God  comes down to us every time we come to the table and celebrate the Lord's Supper, Holy Communion. ("Ye do show the Lord's death until He come…"

God comes to us in the form of the stranger, in people we  might often overlook or pass by.

God comes down by grace, every second of every day, reminding us of His life-giving work on the cross, FOR YOU.

Jesus is our wakeup call!!  But don't stay on your phone -- don't hit the snooze button, but LIVE in the light and love of the Savior who on the cross has triumphed over fear, sin, and death, giving HOPE -- for you and for me.  AMEN.

Mommies, Mittens, and Music

Sometimes, getting a six-year-old ready for school is like a cruel joke. This morning was one of those (too many) times for me. I guess I've been conditioned to prefer singing to a class of squirmy eighth-graders at 8 in the morning to getting my own kid out the door. Or, perhaps, being in a boxing bullfighting ring. For starters, he hadn't even completed his weekly homework packet, and this, after having received the assignment exactly one week earlier (last Friday, not this past Monday), upon my request. I thought we might have more time over the weekend to get started. Wrong again. Here he was, on Friday morning, with seven pages left to go.

We slogged through this process for over an hour. accompanied by intermittent requests to turn on the television or get the crayons so he could draw in his sketchbook. Why don't sketchbooks count toward homework? When I was that age, my thing was playing the piano. I would "practice" in order to procrastinate not only on homework, but chores, annual physicals, tooth extractions -- you name it.

It's 8:50 and we're finally ready to leave!! He's actually wearing his coat and shoes. "Yipee," I thought, "This is going to be smoother than I thought." He even ate all of his oatmeal.

So we're late. So he still had three sentences left to compose that he didn't finish. At least this was better than last week. A short-lived, contented silence...

"MOMEEEEEE!! I want some MITTENS!"

Mittens. A taller order than anyone knows. My husband is The Attic Keeper. Only HE knows where the various and sundry unmatched mittens, hats and gloves are. I think he prefers it that way. As soon as Tax Day arrives, or when he is in town, whichever comes first, Attic Keeper will remove all the storm windows, gather up the various and sundry unmatched mittens, hats, and gloves, throw in a few pairs of boots, coats and sweaters, and gleefully head up to said attic where he finds the most mysterious-colored UNLABELED Rubbermaid bins, plunks the stuff in, and seals them shut, never to be heard from again -- until, perhaps, sometime in the neighborhood of October 25. The storm windows he puts God-knows-where. They might even be in plain sight, but because they are transparent and I have a rare eye disorder, they might as well be somewhere in China.

And here's the rub. Attic Keeper is currently ensconced in a tony basement somewhere in Chicago, where he spends his days at Internet Cafes and his nights awaiting the Next Big Break as Iago when he will be whisked up out of Seat W10 at Lyric Opera of Chicago and have approximately 6:49 (minutes!) to get his adorable butt onstage and into boots and armor and warble away for real. Anyway, that's where he is. Not in my attic at 8:55 am on this day, anyway. I rarely need this stuff. I hate coats, mittens, and the like. We should really live somewhere in the tropics, because none of us really believes in outerwear.

But here I am. I'm sure my son was the only one without mittens or a coat at the zoo field trip yesterday. I wasn't being BadMom this time. I did ask him three times if he wanted to wear his coat, and he said no. It was probably a good choice, because around noontime I'm sure none of the kids needed theirs either and tried to wad them up in their backpacks or throw them at the teacher. But GoodMoms are supposed to mummify their children, and I had fallen short. I'm sure at least one or two of his smarty-pants classmates (and I know exactly who they are) chirped at him, "NOOOOOAH! Where are your mittens?" (subtext: "Doesn't your Mommy love you?") Mittens. Overrated. But here I am. Once again, it's time to play Hide N' Seek in the attic with no time to spare. Then Attic Keeper wonders why things look like a cyclone just hit up there. I never know what I need from one minute to the next, let alone where to find it. Bingo! Two bins and I got it. A pair of little black shrunken-looking Michael Jackson gloves. He loved 'em. BIN - GO. Off we go.

At school, we were greeted by Miss Shelley, the... I don't know what her title is, but she is like the Jewish mother I never had. She writes out the late slips for all the deril--I mean delinqu-- I mean latecomers at Noah's school. She knows me very well from the other two children that went before him. I have jokingly told her many times that she should just make about two dozen copies of late slips with Noah's name already written on them. Especially for Fridays, which are my "day off." Funny thing, isn't it, that this is when he is late most often?

I mutter something under my breath..."It's like pulling teeth...mumble, grumble.."

"WHY??" intones Miss Shelley with The $10,000,000 Question.

"I have to tell him 25 times to do his homework. He refuses."

"Well, what DOES he do?"

"He loves to draw. It's compulsive, relentless. He does it all the time. I suppose it's like how I was as a kid. I'd always play piano instead of doing my homework."

Miss Shelley smiled. "So did I!! No matter what my mother did, I had to practice. We're all like that, all the same. They need to know that the people who went before them all have been there, done that. My daughter teaches 7th and 8th grade..."

"Bless her heart!!" I blurted, with a pontifical gesture.

"One day, she caught a student cheating, and he wasn't very good at it. She let him go at it for awhile then summoned him over, 'Pssst. I know you've been cheating. If you're going to cheat, at least do it well. Let me show you how it's done.' The kid was flabbergasted."

"I don't think he'll ever forget that day for the rest of his life."

"You can bet not! What they need to realize is that we've ALL been exactly where they've been at one time or another."

God bless Miss Shelley. Her words sure blessed me this morning.

"Who is my Neighbor?" - with a twist

I am swamped with school and choir work, but I just needed to write this down before I forgot the entire thing, so bear with me.

This past Monday happened to be a gorgeous fall Columbus Day with just enough warmth and a crispy breeze in the air, so after a wonderful night away with my husband, we decided to pick up the kids and head down to Linvilla Orchards, about an hour southwest of here.  For those of you who might not be familiar with this place, it's a wonderful farmer's market that offers fun activities for the entire family.  You can pick your own apples, pumpkins, roast marshmallows, get your face painted, play games, pet the animals, go on hayrides, drink fresh apple cider and eat these amazing cinnamon doughnuts.  Quintessential Fall.

No sooner had we found a parking spot and ambled down the hill to the general store that we found ourselves in a slight traffic jam with all the other folks who had the same idea.  I noticed a group of teenage girls in front of us who weren't moving all too expeditiously, followed by an older Liza Minelli lookalike in shades trailed by a heavyset man.  I am a bit of klutz so I was jostling to keep up with the rest of my own family.

"Excuse me!  Excuse me!"  called the Liza with a Z impersonator.  I glanced her way and swore I looked her right in the eye.  No response.  I continued to move on.  I heard her mumble under her breath, "We say excuse me when we have something to say."  Puzzled, I looked again, and couldn't see her right away, until  I spotted her near the teenagers, figuring she was trying to address them.

Just as we neared the pumpkin displays, "Liza" stops me, saying, "Excuse me.  You trampled my husband, who just had double-knee surgery."

Aghast, I found myself with my hand on my heart, blurting out the first thing that came to me. "Oh, Ma'am, I am so, so very VERY sorry!"

Now, mind you, I don't recall making bodily contact with a living soul since we left the car.  It was cramped, yes, but I am acutely aware of my personal space.  They moved on (without a word from said husband, who didn't look the slightest bit fazed either way), we moved on, and the woulda-coulda-shoulda comeback machine-wheels in my head started turning.

Gee, I could have been extra snarky, saying:

"THAT's funny, what a coincidence! I just had knee surgery, too!"

OR

"I am so sorry, but I just had eye surgery and I couldn't for the life of me see him at all. Please excuse me."

OR

"I am so sorry, how can I help you?"

Really.  It took every bit of moral fortitude to move on from this moment and into my lovely family day off.

How would you have handled this?  What causes people to act this way and what is it they need to hear or have done in such situations?  Do you think I handled this properly?
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Out of curiosity, I'd love to hear from you.  Have a great day!

Two hats to wear at St. John's

After diving into the school year and becoming relatively used to the water, I feel ready to (re-)introduce myself in a slightly newer context -- that of Music Director/ ("slash") Seminarian at St. John's!  This is a very exciting time for me, and I thought I'd share this year's experiences with you as we journey together.

Some of my posts, such as this one, strictly pertain to St. John's, and you will see them published in the monthly church newsletter, The Messenger.  Other times I am sure I will go off on tangents concerning personal observations and experiences, and these will be confined to the blog itself, which you are more than welcome to read as well.

As many of you know, this is my second year as a part-time student at The Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia (LTSP).  In terms of time, the usual full-time M.Div. program (Masters of Divinity) takes an average of three years to complete.  In my case -- being tri-vocational, I expect this process to take at least five or six years.  I took lots of evening classes last year, and found this to be very stressful while trying to  help my kids with homework, attending games, church meetings, or opera rehearsals, so I'm trying something new this semester.  All my classes now take place in the morning, Monday through Thursday.  This is not without its own challenges, however, since I still need to get the kids off to school by 8:30 -- and some of my classes, out in Germantown, begin as early as 8:15.  Thank God for older siblings in college!  With my husband Todd away -- he's been in Chicago for the past six weeks -- this life is not for the faint of heart and we live in a very crazy house!  I am not only learning a lot about theology and Church history, but time management, an important pastoral skill.  My classes this semester are Introduction to Biblical Hebrew, History of Christianity, and Old Testament (Genesis - Esther).  Each one involves intense amounts of reading, and Hebrew poses special challenges in memorization, a constant reminder that my brain is now a half-century old.  You will be hearing plenty of stories coming up about my Hebrew classes, I'm sure! As hard as it is, it's probably my favorite class this time around.

My fourth "class" this semester is Field Education.  This is the fun part.  For the next 2-3 months, I get to observe every Sunday School class, from Preschool to Adult, visit each Bible Study, attend meetings such as Church Council, preach two sermons, visit two selected shut-ins regularly, and meet with Pastor Tricia every week or two to reflect on each experience.  I will also be writing about what I encounter, hoping to use this blog as the basis for the written reflections that I must submit by the end of this semester.  Next semester will include more actual class teaching and more preaching and worship leading.

I am excited about this process and that, after over 25 years of God's prodding, can actually get the ball rolling in the journey toward becoming a pastor.  No, I wasn't struck by lightning, but that still, small voice kept getting louder and louder and would not stop coaxing me.  I always knew I had to hone my craft as a musician first, because that was to become my most effective tool for ministry for most of my life.  But even as a music teacher, God led me to people in need and called me above and beyond teaching singing toward becoming a listener, and in some cases, a counselor for others who wanted to minister in music or those who were just going through rough times in their lives.  Thus, a large part of me is stepping out in response to a call toward work in Pastoral Care.

So that's a little bit about me.  It's often difficult to put into written words, but I am always happy to share my journey thus far on an informal basis, so if you're curious, please don't ever hesitate to strike up a conversation.  I probably just won't shut up too easily , that's all :-)

A brief switch to the Music Hat:  How blessed we are to have guitarist Joe Frunzi joining us at 11:00 worship!!  About ten minutes before service, he will help prepare our hearts for worship by leading us in 2-3 favorite praise songs each week.  We are now starting up our Praise Team and looking for new members of ALL AGES, so please consider joining us for practice each Thursday at 6:30.  You don't have to know how to read music, play an instrument or sing.  If you have a willing heart and that still small voice is on YOUR case, too, just show up.  You'll be glad you did.  

More later... God bless!

~ Lisa