"Reverse the Curse:" God Calls Us Beyond Ourselves

This is a new sermon, the basis of which will be preached to a congregation of young families at Townline Lutheran Church in Alden, NY, a suburb of Buffalo.  I will be guest preaching there next Sunday, March 16, 2014 for an LTSP seminary trip.  There will most likely be variations, using more references to the immediate area (I am a native of Rochester, NY) and less about Philadelphia, as well as my perspective of what it's like to be a second-career seminary student.

I hope to convey that God is able to call each and every one of us to places we could never think of or imagine on our own, and that He will be with us throughout the process even though visibility might be less than zero.

Texts:  Genesis 12:1-4a; John 3:1-17 (Lent 2, Year A)

Those of us who know the Philadelphia sports scene know better than to wear a hat like this.  For me, this is unprecedented for a number of reasons.  For starters, I'm not too sports savvy, but I was always impressed by preachers that were.  Ordinarily I would insist there be a piano nearby that I could run behind for cover if the need arose, so that we could all just break into "Shine, Jesus Shine" in a pinch, but today we're talking about going into uncharted territory without a map, so why not bring baseball into it for the first time?

I should have done my homework and worn this cap out in public last week in an effort to crowd source and gather some reactions, but I'll admit I didn't have the courage.  Philly sports fans can be ruthless.  They have become more notorious for their senseless behavior than for their major sports accomplishments.  Besides not having experienced a sports championship since the 2008 World Series, Philadelphia sports fan have become known for their bad behavior.  A day after the Phillies saw their first fan tasered for running on to the field, another fan jumped the fence and ran around the outfield, led out in handcuffs.

It's not like the Phillies are really alone when it comes to long waits for championships. Take the Boston Red Sox.  I took pity on them one summer in New Hampshire, when a pink hat similar to this one caught my eye at a convenience store, of all places. What attracted me to this specific hat were the words embroidered on the side saying, "Reverse the Curse."

Some of you may be aware of this story, known as "the Curse of the Bambino."  

In 1918 the Red Sox won their 5th World Series, the most by any club at that time. One of the stars of the Boston franchise was a young pitcher by the name of George Herman Ruth, aka The Babe or The Bambino.  The Red Sox had been one of the most successful professional baseball franchises.   

In 1920, however, Red Sox owner Harry Frazee needed money to finance his girlfriend's play, so he sold Babe Ruth's contract to the New York Yankees for $100,000. After the sale they went without a title for decades, as the Yankees became one of the most successful teams in professional sports.  The curse became a focal point of the Yankees–Red Sox rivalry over the years.  For 86 years,  the Sox had not won a single world series, until they managed to face the St. Louis Cardinals -- in 2004 and, finally winning at home this past year in 2013.

Needless to say, by the time I bought this in '07, the Curse had already been removed three years earlier, so I could truly say this was "old hat."  But in some strange way, when wearing it, I felt like I at least temporarily "belonged" to this summer community in New Hampshire.  It gave me a sense of solidarity.

Be it the Red Sox Nation, the Nation of Israel, or our world today, nations are often called to a place beyond themselves without necessarily knowing where they are going.  It happens all the time, throughout the Bible, when people are called  to "hope against hope" at times when the end is far from sight, if it can be seen at all.  Abram was certainly no exception.  God simply told him, "Go from your country and your kindred and your father's house to find the land that I will show you.  I will make of you a great nation."  Contrary to our contemporary story, here Abraham has a blessing rather than a curse hanging over him.  Abraham, Sarah, and their offspring actually serve as God's last hope for the world.  If the blessing fails to work -- the alternatives are unthinkable, even for -- and especially for -- God.  Things fell apart at Eden.  This is the chance to reverse that curse.

Though all kinds of things seem to be in store for him,  we really don't know all that much about Abraham.  We know nothing of his pedigree, his credentials.  Was he a righteous man?  The text is silent, but we do know…because of the ways God works through our experiences today.  We also know that Abram was obedient, both to God's command to "Go," and later, when he was asked to sacrifice his son, Isaac.  We know that later, God changed his name to Abraham and his wife's to Sarah, reflecting His promise toward them and the fact that God has called them as His own.

But let's go back to where we were a minute ago.  God just told Abram that he would become the father of nations.  Mind you, he was 100 years old at the time.  We all know the scenario, we all remember how Sarah laughed.  Whether in ancient times or today, for a person to be 100 years old and have a child is OLD.  

My 6-year-old son just had to dress that way for his one hundredth day of school and with all the walkers, canes, plaid pants, grey hair and glasses that day these youngsters had transformed their classroom into a veritable retirement home.  

100 is old.  Having babies at that age just doesn't compute.  But Abram and Sarai trusted God, and it came to pass.(It was unprecedented).  God "blessed them to be a blessing."  He already destined them for good, to bring forth nations that numbered as many as the stars in the heavens.  

This continued on to Moses, whom God meets in Deuteronomy and declares, "See, I have set before you blessings and curses…"  Here we go again.  The nation of Israel was established, along with an extensive set of laws and regulations designed not only to protect their society, but to get as close as possible to restoring that close relationship with God that had originally existed in the Garden of Eden.  Even though it was a fractured relationship, God AND the people took great pains to hold on to that relationship, though many times, they were unable to hold up their end of the bargain because of  their failing human natures.  In order to atone for their sins, a system of sacrifice was set up --  from the time of Abraham and Isaac and on through the rituals of the Levites -- so much so that the Law was firmly established.  God's people felt safe.  He was on their side in times of war, IF they kept His Commandments.  It was a strong safety net for the people.  But it became so strong that it was inflexible.  So strong, that they couldn't see what was coming.  After all, the way they lived their daily lives was their way of reversing the Curse.  All good -- but THEY were doing it, not God.  All the while, playing into the Enemy's clever plan to convince  humanity they are destined to fail unless THEY do the work to better themselves.

The time was right, the stage was set.  The stars literally aligned themselves -- and the Son of God was born.  Soon after, people were called outside of themselves, into the unknown - Mary, Joseph, John the Baptist, the twelve disciples, the saints throughout the ages, right up to you and me.  

In his famous prayer, the late Archbishop Oscar Romero wrote, "The kingdom is not only beyond our efforts, it is even beyond our vision."  This does not deter us from responding to our call.

In today's Gospel we come to the Nick at Night story.  Since he was a temple official, he must have found it difficult to seek Jesus in the light of day.  He didn't want to be seen with another hat on, consulting Jesus, so he goes to Him by night.  He calls upon the Teacher, he wants to know how he can be saved, how to reverse the curse upon  his life.  Jesus responds, telling him he must be born again. Interesting, how Jesus doesn't take things literally.  Nicodemus had a similar problem to Abraham's.  Maybe he didn't laugh, but he asked, incredulously, "How can a man re-enter his mother's womb?" just as Abram and Sarai laughed at the fact that they were too old to bear children.  With God, all things are possible.

But we live in a broken world.  A lot of times we struggle because we think we can't "see" God in our daily lives.  Yes, we can see evidence in Creation, in the small and large miracles we witness.  But these tend to become hypothetical in the face of other things, like accidents, planes disappearing over Vietnam, families breaking up, cancer, heart attacks, unexpected deaths, or expected ones through disease, unrest in the Ukraine, misappropriations of justice.  There is pain, there is agony that feels all too real.  We can't do it on our own.

And then we come to John 3:16.  That verse we often see as posters in the stands of baseball and football stadiums.  God, out of infinite love for His creation, sent His only begotten Son to us that we might have new life -- and in that sense, yes, we are born again, if you take the term for what it is and not the many things it has become over the years.  This life comes freely to us when - not if, but when -- we believe. We can rest and rejoice in that love - the same love that brought Jesus down to us in human form, clothed him in flesh, healed the sick and brought sight to the blind -- is the same love that is with us each and every day, guiding us in blessing and loving us through life and death, because of what He did through Jesus' death on the cross.  

God is  not sitting up there somewhere, waiting for us to stumble and fall over the next obstacle heading our way.  As the Creative Source, he is not about to destroy something He made with His own hands.  He is our advocate, and moves throughout the earth today as the Holy Spirit, who guides and comforts us and reassures us of this great blessing that has been with us since the time of Abraham.  

So it is during quiet time, perhaps in worship on Sunday mornings, or time spent relaxing with friends, sharing our stories, that we feel God breaking through.  Many times this is all we have to find the clarity we need to move beyond ourselves. Time to reflect during the quiet and the praise, time to consider the nearness of our Lord when we celebrate Holy Communion…that indeed Jesus' very body and are blood shared with the entire world…over and over reminds us that we ARE one body, the Bride of Christ.  

Suddenly it's no longer a small matter.  Suddenly we're no longer small, and we do matter.  We are loved -- that much.  The stakes are high -- high enough to meet the curse of the accidents, death, and disease.  The Curse has met its match, and we CAN "hope against hope," and GO  -- "blessed to be a blessing" -- into areas of uncertainty knowing we are called by God  "into ventures of which we cannot see the ending" because our Lord has promised to be with us, bringing us abundant life through the Holy Spirit each and every day, for you and for all.  Amen.

I Dropped the Ball Today

Sometimes we make unconventional choices, ones that do not seem to make much sense in terms of our welfare in the world.

Today is one of those days. I had a chance to redeem myself of a rather abysmal grade on an Old Testament exegetical paper. I decided to drop the ball. Not only had I run out of time, but my resources were unavailable to me. These factors alone made it very difficult to follow through, but at the core of this conundrum lay that pesky thing called "will."  You just couldn’t drag it out of me.

Unfortunately, there will likely be a very ugly grade on my transcript now. I can’t call my professor merciless. Ultimately, she was extremely fair and gracious in offering me the opportunity for a do-over. But the real point remains: I didn’t get it, and I didn’t want to. Don’t get me wrong. It was arguably the most engaging, fantastic course of the year. But in all honesty, I remain just as bored by the Old Testament as I was sitting in mother’s third grade Sunday School class some 44 years ago.

Maybe something’s wrong with me. When reading historical accounts, I like my fare to be as accurate and close to reality as possible. I love verismo opera, for instance. I do NOT like " maybe" in history OR in life, and find conjecture a wholesale waste of time. So what possible good would it do for me to speculate what Hosea really meant by his marriage metaphor in Chapter 2 when, more than likely, it wasn’t even written by Hosea himself? I’d rather be analyzing Verdi's "La Forza del Destino" because I know for sure that it exists. I’m 52 years old. "Maybe" doesn’t cut it anymore. Even creativity needs to be concrete.

I could guilt myself into having chosen the wrong priority (lying in a hammock on a beach in the Caribbean) or not prioritizing altogether, but what I really boiled down to was the will. It wasn’t there. So should I feel badly, or suffer? I made this unconventional choice, and choose to live with it.  Not a report you want to hear from a second-year seminarian, but there it is.

On to dog walks, garden work, rehearsals, gigging, organ lessons, Field Ed reports, entrance essays, and CPE applications. It's a new day! 

The Road to Emmaus: From Broken Hopes to Burning Hearts

Easter doesn't always happen in three days. 

We may hear all the signs, sing all the songs..but for some of us, it may feel like someone else's story, not our own -- not the least of us, those who work or study in the church.  It can be a very stressful time even three weeks after Easter, especially as finals week looms ahead.

            

Even though it may be cold outside, rainy, with little sign of Spring, each Easter Sunday, as though on cue, we gravitate toward the hothouse tulips, lilies, hyacinths, bright colors, trumpets and chocolate bunnies, not entirely convinced we're really there yet, but the calendar tells us so.

            

Yet our hearts are unresolved.  We want desperately to believe the resurrection story.  Some of us, like Thomas the disciple last week, insist on seeing the bold evidence -- the empty tomb, the very nail prints in Jesus' hands and feet.

            

When we can't see the signs and just hear the story, the words may sound hollow and empty; because -- let's face it -- that job interview last week that looked so promising fell through,  that relationship is still broken, the cancer we thought was in remission has returned.  Planes don't just fall out of the sky these days.  In some cases, they just plain disappear without a trace, to the point that no one can be found even months later.  There is no closure.

            

People around the world and in our own back yards are still hungry.  Violence escalates on a daily basis. We are still alone.  What should we do when we have reached our wit's end, when what we once thought was worth our lives has left us washed up?

            

Easter may also sound like someone else's story because of all the noise, all the hope infused into the end of the three days.  It's almost like a timer gets switched on at Good Friday and the seconds start ticking away until the Sunrise Service.  "It's Friday, but Sunday's coming!" shouts Tony Campolo, who happens to be one of my favorite preachers.  I don't mean to sound cyncial here.  I really want to believe it, but is that your story today?   If so, how did you get there?

            

Three days, three weeks, three months, years, or a lifetime….Easter can be a journey.  Whenever our own stories don't jibe with "The Big Picture," they become our own personal journeys.  We find ourselves on our own particular "road," away from the big city where everyone else is.  We seek to escape.  We take long walks. To ponder.  To get ourselves into that space where perhaps we can look back with a better perspective, confront ourselves in the here and now, and if we're lucky, meet someone along the way, share a meal, and come away with a better vision of the future.

            

And so it was with Christ's followers on the Road to Emmaus.  It is midday of the same morning Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to the tomb, just three days after Jesus was crucified.  They arrived, only to find a pair of guards lying on the ground, struck down as good as dead -- ironic, when you consider that the man who was supposed to be dead was missing from the very tomb he had been buried in, two days earlier.  As if that weren't enough, the stone covering the tomb had been rolled away with what I picture as this sassy angel sitting right on top of it, giving Mary explicit instructions to go to Galilee, find Jesus' followers and bring them the news that He is risen, and that is precisely what she did.  So these disciples heard the story, but despaired and became confused.  

So Cleopas and another one of Jesus' followers (some scholars think it may have been a woman, "Mrs. Cleopas," as Jay introduced her earlier!) set out to take a long walk to Emmaus, a town about 7 miles west of Jerusalem.  Not a trek, maybe not even a journey per se, but a hike nonetheless.

I'm not a runner or even a hiker, but I am one of those people that benefits greatly from taking long walks -- time spent away from the hectic stresses of life as a student and parent.  It helps me process things.  I become energized by the fresh air and the perpetual forward momentum I generate.  It usually helps me get past the mental hurdles and get "un-stuck."

            

The disciples must have sought this kind of respite, especially since they had just spent a bit of an irregular week, what with the celebrating Passover and especially having undergone all the tumult of the past three days. Their words and their hearts are heavier than any of the supplies they are carrying home from their annual pilgrimage to their holy city Jerusalem, now a city of horrors.  They have heard that it is "Easter" from the women at the tomb, but as of yet they do not know it in their very guts or souls.  Walking, getting back to a routine -- this, they hope, will eventually bring them some sense of comfort. 

So they keep walking, "talking and discussing." Perhaps they were debating Mary's story about the tomb earlier that morning.  Was it true or just "idle chatter?"  Whatever the subject, it was clear that they were in despair over the past three days' events.

On this road of broken dreams, they meet a stranger.  It was Jesus, but they had no clue.  Why couldn't they recognize Jesus?  Maybe he looked different.  Maybe they looked at him differently and didn't expect to know him because he presented himself as a stranger.  Maybe they were so caught up in their own grief, despair and frustration they they didn't really bother to look closely.  Yet the very embodiment of their freedom was right next to them!

And we do know a little bit more.  We read that "their eyes were kept from recognizing him."  It was one of those God-orchestrated things -- like the time Jesus tells his mother at the Wedding at Cana - "Woman, my hour has not yet come," or in today's second reading from 1 Peter:  "He was destined before the foundation of the world, but was revealed at the end of the ages for your sake."  God temporarily shut their eyes until the time was right to reveal Jesus' identity.

            

"What are you discussing with each other while walking on the road?" asked Jesus.  

 They ended up standing still.  At the crossroads.  

Suddenly it was no longer about the miles before them, but the moment at hand and Cleopas answers, "Where have you been?  Have you been living under a rock (Well, indeed, He kinda did!)? You must be the only stranger in Jerusalem that does not know the things that have taken place in the past few days."

"What 'things'?'" asks Jesus.  And Cleopas goes on about the prophet Jesus of Nazareth, how the chief leaders and priests handed him over to be condemned to death and crucified him.  "But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel…"

"We had HOPED."  At the crossroads between life and death, dreams and reality, hope and despair.

The stranger retells the story.  Jesus talks about how the Messiah should suffer these things and enter into his glory, and goes on to interpret all the things about himself in the scriptures, beginning with Moses.

They were approaching the village.  Jesus walked ahead as if he were going on.  But they urged him, "STAY WITH US, because the day is almost over."  He went in to stay with them,  they broke bread, and their eyes were opened.  Once they recognized him, he vanished from their sight.

They turned to each other and marveled at their own transformation - "Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?"    Their burning hearts illuminated their blindness.  We all have our own experiences of how the Spirit has revealed itself to us.  My grandma helped me find it long ago by explaining that warmth in my heart, or how I would feel a faint tug that almost made me cry, and to this day I know without a doubt that this is my perception of the Holy Spirit's presence.  It's different for everyone, but in this case the disciples felt their hearts burning.

They became so energized that they returned to Jerusalem that same day, their burning hearts giving them a sense of mission, going back to tell their fellow disciples what had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread.

Despair.  A walk.  A stranger breaks in.  Conversation.  Hospitality.  Sharing a meal.  Recognition.  From broken hopes to burning hearts.

Sounds somewhat familiar - Despair. Gathering. The Word.  Breaking Bread.  From broken hope to burning hearts.  Our worship.

When we are in despair on the road to nowhere in particular, can we see who walks with us?  When has God's Word interrupted our own idle conversation and called a halt to our own frantic forward momentum?  When was the last time God's hospitality energized you? 

Easter doesn't always come in three days.  Stones are rolled away, but sometimes we stay in the tomb.  Stones sealing the tombs of our hearts can be rolled back, too.   Hopes entombed can be illuminated.  We CAN leave our graveclothes behind.  Sometimes it means letting go of our own dreams and expectations. Sometimes it means inviting in a stranger that we have known all along, and this very act of invitation, of hospitality, opens us up to God's infinite promise of grace…the promise for you and for me.   

The fire of recognition and the light of clear sight spurs us on.  We become Easter people, and the Easter story becomes our own.

Stay with us, Lord Jesus.  AMEN.

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.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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?
\
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