Knit Together

Sometimes during sermon prep, I overlook the collect. If you are unfamiliar with the term, a collect is a prayer said at the beginning of a Holy Eucharist service with the purpose of drawing together or collecting the concerns of the people, the liturgical flavor of the season, and the themes of the readings. When writing a sermon on a given week, or when writing a blog about the upcoming Sunday’s liturgically assigned readings, I often skip right to the Gospel lesson—only later do I check out the First Lesson, Psalm, and Second Lesson. I almost never even consider the collect as a part of sermon prep, but this week is different.

Many churches throughout mainline Protestant Christianity will celebrate All Saints’ Sunday this week. (The actual celebration is on Friday, November 1st, but the Episcopal Church also encourages celebrating this occasion on the following Sunday.) The collect for All Saints’ Day captivates my attention and my imagination because of the descriptive language associated with God, the important role of all the saints, and the aim (or telos) of us as followers of Christ. Before going any further though, here’s the collect in its entirety:

Almighty God, you have knit together your elect in one communion and fellowship in the mystical body of your Son Christ our Lord: Give us grace so to follow your blessed saints in all virtuous and godly living, that we may come to those ineffable joys that you have prepared for those who truly love you; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who with you and the Holy Spirit lives and reigns, one God, in glory everlasting. Amen. (The Book of Common Prayer, 245).

Taking a look at the descriptive language in this prayer, we discover God’s intimate role in the lives of the saints. After the opening address, “Almighty God,” which provides a powerful portrayal of the Divine, the collect turns to a much softer active verb to depict God’s role in tying the saints together. “You have knit together your elect in one communion and fellowship…” (italics added for emphasis), the collect says. Here I imagine the Thursday knitting group, which meets here at All Saints, as they make prayer shawls that will be taken to sick babies, worried parents, and aging parishioners alike. God as Creator is not bringing us, the saints, together via thunderbolt and lightening (very, very frightening), but instead through calmly weaving us into a pattern beyond our comprehension. What’s the pattern? Our Almighty Knitter binds us together such that we actually become the Body of Christ. To borrow one of my liturgy professor’s favorite questions, “Isn’t that RAD?!”

This form that God weaves us into has the shape of the Mystical Body of Christ, but we see this pattern not only in the life of Jesus of Nazareth, but also in the lives of all the saints. Our collect does us a disservice when it says, “Give us grace so to follow your blessed saints in all virtuous and godly living.” Why is this a disservice? Well, when we describe the saints as blessed and when we say that they live godly and virtuous lives we mistakenly discount our own experiences as saints.

Recently I’ve been on a tear trying to hear as many parishioners’ stories as I can. Using Mary Parmer’s Invite Welcome Connect model as inspiration, I’ve been asking people what brought them to God or the Church, or when they have felt welcomed or like they belong (either in the Church or elsewhere). The powerful responses in the form of life-altering stories help me to see the shape of Jesus’ life and the shape of the Saints’ lives in the lives of everyday, ordinary people. I believe this is true precisely because the capital S Saints “are just folk like me” and you, to borrow a line from Lesbia Scott’s famous hymn. Virtuous and godly living then is not something that was only aspired to by people who lived a long time ago or those who currently reside in a hermitage, but rather as we become students or disciples of Jesus, we learn that we too can walk this way (talk this way) of love. We too are called to journey with Christ, Saints, and saints into abundant life, what we sometimes call the life eternal.

Finally, the collect provides us who pray these words with an aim for our lives. Virtuous living simply put is rightly aimed living. The way we find our aim is by living together in community, studying Holy Scripture and other texts, worshipping God by participating in Holy Sacraments and sacramental rites, and by allowing God’s grace to penetrate even into the most broken parts of our existence. When we take part in communities that work, pray, study, eat, and worship together, then one beautiful outgrowth we receive is values by which we can live our best life (a phrase that has seeped into the parlance of social media).

Within the All Saints (Sun)Day collect we discover that the aim of us the pray-er is to be knit into the Mystical Body of Christ (full stop). The mechanism through which this happens is God’s grace—God unconditionally loving us first. And, our response is to follow the pattern of the Saints who followed the pattern of Jesus the Christ. We follow this pattern best by becoming part of a community with virtues that align with the life of Christ and the lives of the Saints (and the saints). The by-products of this type of living, according to the collect, are ineffable joys and a full life prepared by God. (These joys by the way are unexplainable happiness, not something else, like was thought on an episode of How I Met Your Mother). So, you may be wondering though, what’s the catch?

It’s easy to read this collect and feel a bit inspired. Still, there’s the reality that, as the saying goes, the devil is in the details. So, how do we get this life with indescribable happiness? How do we become like the Saints? How do we model our lives in the form of Christ? How? Well, I do not know for sure, but I do know two things. First, the good news is that God loves us first. There’s no way to opt out of God loving us. God's love is unconditional, all-encompassing, limitless, timeless, and beyond measure. Second, our response is to do to God and neighbor exactly what God does to us—love without limit. This second part can be tough though, and this is where the saints come into the picture.

The Saints of the Church and the saints in your church are folk just like you and me. And, they didn’t always get loving God and neighbor right. What matters is that we continue to practice. When we mess up we turn back to God and reconcile (when possible) with our neighbor. But, just because we mess up it doesn’t mean we stop loving. For God who loves us completely inspires us through the lives of each other and on All Saints Sunday we are reminded that each one of us is a saint to someone else. So, don’t ever give up. Don’t ever stop receiving and giving the love of God because our Almighty Knitter is always weaving us together through the fabric of Christ’s self-giving love.

Bad News Into Good: The Shape of the Gospel

As Frederick Buechner once wrote, "The Gospel is bad news before it is good news." This is good news to us who see bad news everywhere we look these days.

© Seth Olson 2019

October 13, 2019—The Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost—Proper 23 (Gospel Reflection Track)

2 Kings 5:1-3, 7-15c
Psalm 111
2 Timothy 2:8-15
Luke 17:11-19

There are some times when the lector finishes reading a particularly difficult text, and in response to hearing, “The Word of the Lord,” we all look around at each other before shrugging and saying, “Thanks be to God?” And there are even some weeks when we hear a tough Gospel lesson and we have a hard time saying, “Praise to you, Lord Christ,” as the customary response. Now, you probably already know this, but gospel literally means good news. But, what you may not know is that the Gospel is bad news before it is good. Don’t believe me? Stick with me for a bit.

One of my favorite writers is Frederick Buechner. He once wrote, “The Gospel is bad news before it is good news. It is the news that [humans are sinners], to use the old word, that [we are] evil in the imagination of [our hearts], that when [we look] in the mirror all in a lather what [we see] is at least eight parts chicken, phony, slob. That is the tragedy.” Sounds pretty rough, but this is only the beginning.

The gospel is tragedy first precisely because we forget who we are and whose we are. We are God’s children and we belong to God. We come to earth knowing this deep truth within our souls. When we gaze upon newborns we remember this clearly, but somewhere along the way we lose track of the truth. This is the bad news before the good news. But, there is good news.

In today’s Epistle—when Paul was writing to his protégé Timothy—we hear the writer speak of his gospel. “My good news,” Paul wrote. What was this good news? Simply put, though Jesus died—tragedy—he was the Messiah, was raised from the dead, and brought those who believe in him with him—good news! We will return to this shape in a moment.

To Paul though, this message was worth undergoing suffering. Sometimes Paul comes off sounding outlandish or braggadocios, but here he was spot on. He was willing to be beaten and imprisoned, so that he could share good news. He underwent the bad news before ultimately experiencing the good. There’s that shape again.

Sometimes though we cannot help but get wrapped up in bad news. There is no shortage of it today in the world and in our lives. God's own creation cries out for greater care; famine, oppression, human trafficking, violence, and disease indicate a need for greater care of our neighbors; and in our own lives stress, anxiety, busyness, illness, and broken relationships point to the yearning within us to better care for ourselves. Bad news all around, right?

How do we respond? One way to respond is to get stuck in the tragedy, or worse yet to inflict tragedy upon others. Immersed in the bad news we counter what others do to us with what is called complimentary behavior—like for like. The Old Testament way of saying this is “an eye for an eye.” Or, in the positive, “I’ll scratch your back if you scratch mine.”

We even get a glimpse of this way in Paul’s letter to Timothy. Paul wrote, “If we deny him, he will also deny us.” If we are loyal, then that’s what we’ll get in return—a tooth for a tooth, denial for denial. Except that is not all there is. This is only the first act. This is merely the set up—the tragedy before the turn, for this letter more fully says: “If we have died with him, we will also live with him; if we endure, we will also reign with him; if we deny him, he will also deny us; if we are faithless, he remains faithful—for he cannot deny himself.” This opens up another way of viewing everything: death doesn’t lead to death, but to life. Endurance leads to reigning with God. Even denial gets redemption because God cannot deny God’s self. God will always be faithful. Now we see coming into focus the shape of the ultimate Good News!

Even if we falter. Even if we fail. Even when we are unfaithful, when we cannot be trusted, God will always remain faithful and trustworthy and true. This is the good news that comes in the wake of any and all bad news. And Paul truly was one who was acquainted with bad news. He knew suffering, imprisonment, betrayal, torture, and death. He willingly experienced bad news before tasting the good news. He knew the shape of the Gospel precisely because he had lived it.

Now Paul's phrase “my good news” sparked a deep wondering in my soul. Often in the Church we will talk about our favorite Gospel. Do you like Matthew, Mark, Luke, or John? I don't want burst your bubble, but there is only one Gospel—the Good News of Christ Jesus. Even knowing that there is simply THE Good News, sometimes we restrict it to the past. We mistakenly believe that God’s Good News happened 2,000 years ago half-way around the world, and four men wrote about it, and that’s it. Since then, the good news dried up, God went into hiding, and every once in a while we get a mysteriously communication as God watches from on high—like the outline of Jesus’ face in a piece of toast. But, the truth is the good news of Christ Jesus never stopped. And, it never will.

Each one of us is called to be a gospel writer. I am called to share the good news. You are called to share the good news. We are called to share the Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ according to All Saints. This good news is diverse and unique according to each one of our voices, and yet it shares some similarities. Each one of us experiences our own Good Fridays before grace bursts in on Easter Morning. We all go to the cross on Calvary before seeing the tomb is empty. Like Buechner wrote, it is bad news before it is good news. We, like Paul, know this shape, the shape of the Gospel because it’s the shape of our lives. And, if we look around we start to see this pattern everywhere, like in today’s reading from Luke.

Seeing the arc of this leper’s life it takes the same shape as bad news looping towards good. This leper was an outcast because of his disease, and Jesus’ disciples who practiced Judaism would have looked down upon him doubly because he was a Samaritan. Samaritans had a different worldview and a different holy place, which led to conflict and even violence between the two peoples. For a Samaritan to be held up as an example for the disciples would have been challenging to say the least, but here we find this Samaritan leper’s life take the very shape of the Good News of Christ Jesus.

The leper was ostracized, ridiculed, and isolated with other lepers because of his disease—bad news. But then, he encountered Jesus. This interaction disrupted the leper’s life. He along with others asked for mercy from God. Jesus shared God’s healing with him. And, he was cured—good news! That’s it then, the leper’s life took the shape of the gospel… but that’s not it. That’s not all!

As the once-diseased man began to walk away, he observed he was cured, he turned back to God, he praised God, worshiped God by prostrating himself at Jesus’ feet, and he thanked God. We know the shape of the Gospel—tragedy gracefully swooping towards good news. But the one-time leper shows us the shape of a life impacted by good news: asking for mercy, observing God’s grace, turning back to God, praising and worshiping God, and giving thanks to God. The passage ends with some powerful words that put an exclamation point on this response to the Gospel.

Jesus said, “Your faith has made you well.” But, really he told the man, “Your faith has made you whole.” This faith, this trusting in God, allows us to walk from the bad news into the Good News of Christ with confidence that no matter what happens Jesus is walking with us. This is not just any good news it is our good news. And, it is worth sharing!

We, at All Saints, are in the midst of sharing our good news in many different ways. Last week we started a season of Shining Our Light. Today we will hear more stories of how we are revealing God’s transforming love in the world. What is this season, this time of stewardship all about? It’s about seeing the shape of the Gospel as the shape of our lives. It’s about responding to the good news in our lives and in this community with gratitude, by turning to God, and worshiping God.

God gives us everything. God shapes our lives such that through Christ all bad news bends forever towards good news. And as we walk through this life in which we see in the shape of the Gospel in multitudinous ways, may we respond like the Samaritan leper. As the light of Christ shines in our lives illuminating God’s mercy manifest within us, we are called to turn to God by praising, worshiping, and giving thanks for all the blessings we receive. What is the Good News according to All Saints? It is that Christ’s love transforms every bit of bad news into good news. And for that, thanks be to God.

Sermon Ideas: The Grateful Leper and Faith Making Us Whole

This week we get a reprieve—at least that’s what it feels like. In churches that use the Revised Common Lectionary, we’ve been on a slog of a journey since Sunday, June 29th when we heard that Jesus turned his face towards Jerusalem. Each week in our readings, Jesus has elevated the stakes such that we must choose between following Jesus and other good things such as family, work, and even our lives. This coming Sunday’s text (Luke 17:11-19) though, provides us a break from the explosive rhetoric of the last few months, or does it?

While the language Jesus employed in this pericope (fancy word for section of the Bible) appears less disruptive than recent ones on fiery division, hating our families, and being worthless, the underlying message remains nonetheless challenging to our way of life. The story of the ten lepers and the one grateful one gives us fodder not only for stewardship season (already underway in many parishes), but also living transformed lives of gratitude. Let us take a closer look at the story before exploring a few intriguing jumping off points for a preacher given the task of interpreting this Sunday’s Gospel lesson.

The text opens with Jesus furthering his journey toward Jerusalem; however, the setting differs from the last few stories, as we enter the region between Samaria and Galilee. Jesus traveled south through this area on his path to the Holy City. Samaritan and Jewish people shared a bitter relationship with differing world views, especially when it came to the location of a primary holy place—the Samaritans believed it was Mount Gerizim and the Jewish people believed it was the Temple in Jerusalem. While the reality for any Galilean traveling to Jerusalem meant that she or he would have to enter Samaritan territory, friendly interactions between the two peoples were seemingly not a given—despite how the Parable of the Good Samaritan clouds our thinking. Still Jesus interacted and even healed ten lepers, with at least one of them being Samaritan.

In this story, Jesus entered an unnamed Samaritan village, and ten lepers approached him. The unclean people kept their distance though, as they cried out to Jesus, calling him master and pleading that he have mercy upon them. Leaving aside, at least for this blog post, the underlying belief that God causes things like leprosy (hence the “Master have mercy upon us!”), what stands out as striking is that these lepers in Samaria would believe that a Jewish man could provide healing for them. A friend told me this would be like an evangelical Christian today asking an Islamic State extremist to heal him from an embarrassing rash. Maybe it’s not that dramatic, but nevertheless Jesus’ predicated his mission upon breaking down extreme barriers—that and healing.

In this text, Jesus performed a gradual healing by distance for these ten lepers. When Jesus saw them—an odd sounding phrase in the text—he did have mercy upon them, and told them to go show themselves to a priest. Why? Well, once they were seen without leprosy they would have been incorporated back as full members of society. They were wandering out of the bounds of normal society, as this roving gang of lepers precisely because they were unwelcome with everyone else. The story could have just as easily ended with the lepers walking off into the proverbial sunset. I wonder if it would have even been recorded if that were the case—there are plenty of glossed over healing stories throughout the Gospel accounts. Fortunately for us, this is not where the story ended.

One of the lepers did not walk into the horizon, but instead realized the source of his healing. Part of me cannot blame the nine lepers who wanted to get back to being a full member of society. They felt compelled to simply ask the priest to pronounce them clean, so they could get back to living life. Still this one leper upon discovering he was healed, turned back to thank Jesus. The leper cried with a loud voice praising God, prostrated himself at Jesus’ feet, and he thanked him. The simplicity and the magnitude of the man’s thankfulness appears striking. Also striking is Luke’s detail, “And he was a Samaritan,” as though the reader would expect this from a Jewish person, but not one of “those people.” How did Jesus respond?

As usual, Jesus did not respond in a straightforward manner. Instead, he questioned, “Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they? Was none of them found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?” Then, as if it were a tiny consolation, Jesus uttered the final words from this passage, “Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well.” This last interchange may leave us scratching our heads, so as we turn to how a preacher might approach this story, let us begin with this odd ending.

The final words from this passage were not actually, “your faith has made you well.” Rather, Jesus said, your faith has made you whole. Here Jesus provided one of the clearest connections we have in all of Holy Scripture between observing God’s power at work in the world, being thankful, and trusting God. This Samaritan leper, an outsider in multiple ways, saw how God’s healing was happening within him. Then, he turned around (fancy Church word: repented). As he did he gave thanks to God, the source of his (and all) healing. This trust in and gratitude for God was what made him whole according to Jesus. Particularly in stewardship season when we speak about the power of practicing gratitude this would be a great jumping off point for a sermon.

Another helpful focus point emerges from the way Jesus both incorporates and holds at a distance those who are unclean and of a different background. On a personal level, I would have loved to see Jesus rush toward the lepers playing down that one or more of them was a Samaritan and all of them were ritually unclean; however, that was not the case. If Christ is the universal healing presence that is meant to draw the entire world to him—at least in John’s Gospel account—then, why would he be held up by something as relatively minuscule as leprosy or a different background? Why? I cannot tell for sure, but what is worth exploring is the tension between Jesus the Jewish human and Christ the cosmic redeemer who are both fully present in Christ Jesus.

A final layer worth the preacher’s exploration is the continued metaphorical and literal meanings of journey here in the latter part of Luke. Jesus was on a journey with something to accomplish, and yet he took the time to stop. The ten lepers were on journey and yet one of them took the time to stop. Jesus did not have to pause to help the lepers and the one leper did not have to pause to say thank you. How often does our current way of living life leave us feeling completely hurried such that we do not take time to stop, be a part of something miraculous, experience God’s healing, say thank you, and praise God? A powerful sermon might focus on the gift of upended journeys.

These are just three ways to go about preaching this wonderful gift of a text. I pray God will speak through all those who are interpreting this passage for our congregations on Sunday. As my rector Glenda Curry often prays, “May God’s Word only be spoken, may God’s Word only be heard.” Amen.

God and Wealth

How do you serve both God and wealth?

© Seth Olson 2019
September 22, 2019—The Fifteenth Sunday after Pentecost—Proper 20 (Gospel Reflection Track)
Amos 8:4-7
Psalm 113
1 Timothy 2:1-7
Luke 16:1-13

Lord, let my words be your words, and when my words are not your words, let your people be cunning enough to know the same. Amen.

What’s your favorite board game or card game? As a kid, my family loved playing Scattegories. When I was in seminary, my friends and I often played Settlers of Catan. And at clergy conference, our Bishop, Kee is known to lead some pretty fun games of Poker. What’s your favorite?

If you Google the most popular board games of all-time, near the top of most lists is the classic Monopoly. I imagine most of us have spent several hours of our lives playing this game of strategy. The object of Monopoly is to own the most property and to become the richest player. Players lose one-by-one as they owe more than they can pay—after selling off the property to make payments to other players, the bank, etc. Monopoly, like Scattegories, Settler of Catan, or poker push us to put the game over relationships. And, Monopoly’s emphasis on accumulating property forces us to put money over our friendly or familial bonds.[1]

Does this sound at all familiar? When else have we heard about someone putting money over relationship? No, not any recent headlines, but in today’s Gospel story! 

Today’s bit of Good News—and it is good news!—focuses upon some characters who put possessions over relationships in much the same way that we might if we were playing Monopoly on family game night. Hold onto this for just a moment because we need to hop back to what Jesus said right before this story to get a fuller picture.

This Parable of the Shrewd Manager—today’s story—falls right on the heels of three beautiful, familiar parables that make up the chapter before it. Last week we heard two of those parables—the ones about the Lost Sheep and the Lost Coin. In both, items are lost and a character seeks out the lost until they are found at which point that character throws a big party to celebrate. What we did not hear last week is the story of the Prodigal Son or what I like to call the Parable of the Lost Sons. 

In this familiar story, Jesus described a younger son who put his love of money over his love of family by asking for his inheritance early. The son essentially told his father, “I wish you were dead, so I can go ahead and get my money.” Strangely the father granted the son’s request. In the story of the Prodigal Son, the younger child went off and squandered his property on riotous living. That sounds pretty fun until we discover that he woke up one day wishing he could eat pig slop, as his own funds were insufficient to get a decent meal. The story does contain a semi-happy ending, as the younger son decided to return to his father, so that he could be his servant. Being the loving father he was though the dad did not grant his son’s request of being his servant. Instead he restored the son to full familial status. That’s not where the story ends.

The father throws a party to celebrate the restoration of his relationship with his son. However, the disgruntled older brother didn’t get the point—his brother had returned, but the older brother had been loyal, hard-working, even like a servant his entire life. All the older brother wanted was one moment of celebration, but he didn’t get it. The father told his first born, “All that I have is yours.” In other words, you could have celebrated with your friends anytime, but when my younger son, your brother, returned we had to celebrate. We thought he was dead, but he’s alive. 

Jesus seemingly told this story and the ones about a lost sheep and a lost coin to inform the Pharisees that they were like the older brother. They weren’t understanding that they were invited to rejoice at the return of the younger son. They were invited to rejoice when a sinner came home to God. Unfortunately the Pharisees were putting a love of rules over a love of relationship. So, what about what Jesus said in today’s Parable of the Shrewd Manager?

Well, like the Pharisees who rejected tax collectors and sinners, and like the elder son who rejected the younger son, and like some of us when we play Monopoly, the Master and the Manager in today’s story both put the love of money over the love of someone else—at least at first. Let’s take a closer look at this story. 

Immediately in this story we discover that the Master was a very rich man. In Luke’s telling of the Good News, as soon as we hear the word rich, it’s a dead give away informing us to be on the lookout. Riches were not typically earned gainfully. Wealth in and of itself was a neutral force, but Jesus throughout Luke’s account charged the wealthy to use their resources to help the poor. Remember at the very beginning of this Gospel account, Mary was singing to an unborn Jesus that God would feed the poor, while God would send the rich away empty! Even though the Master was abundantly rich—more on this in a moment—when the Manager squandered what he was given it was a problem. In the Parable of the Prodigal Son, the Father forgave the son’s squandering, but not here. The Master wanting to ensure he was turning a profit called in a third party to audit what was happening. 

The Manager himself had not been careful in his dealings, as like the Prodigal Son he squandered a bunch of assets. This indicates he was not caring of his relationship with the Master. In an aside, the Manager wondered what he would do. The Manager was of some means, and not wanting to degrade himself by hard labor or begging, he figured out another way. He would cut deals with the people who owed his Master money. Now we only get two examples, but the phrase one-by-one indicates that he probably reduced the bills of many debtors. And these were not just a little bit of produce that the farmers owed the Master. For example, the oil is about 20-25 times what a normal family farm produced.[2] The Master truly was abundantly wealthy. But, you might be wondering how did the Manager accomplish these write offs?

The way in which the Manager reduced the debtors’ bills is the source of much debate. Some scholars think he gave up his own cut, which is admirable. Others think he simply got rid of the interest on the bill. Remember usury would have been illegal in Israel anyway. Still others think the Manager cheated the Master, which would have been popular among the anti-establishment crowd. However, I prefer that the Manager realized he was on the outs with his Master, so he simply switched sides. He realized what was happening—that he had squandered what he was to manage carefully and his Master was choosing wealth over him, so the Manger took control by choosing relationship over possessions. 

Now Jesus told this story to the disciples. Unlike the three previous stories, which Jesus told specifically to the Pharisees to address their grumbling about him eating with tax collectors and sinners. Quickly though, right after the story we heard cuts out, the Pharisees discovered what Jesus said. And, we learn that Jesus was again addressing the Pharisees’ problems. Except instead of putting rules over relationship, here Jesus was saying, “You are putting wealth over relationship.” 

Seemingly that’s the goal of Jesus’ story, right? Relationships are greater than wealth! Oddly enough though, the Master at the end of the story praised the Manager because he acted shrewdly or wisely. The ending though, and the morale of the story, leave me scratching my head.

Was Jesus through the Master praising dishonest means? Maybe, but he immediately said whoever is dishonest in little is dishonest in much. The point of this story may have been that those in the Kingdom of God—the children of light—ought to be wise and crafty. They could even go so far as to use cunning means to accomplish the furthering of the Kingdom. However, before we think we need to be like Robin Hood and steal from the wealthy to put money in the collection plate, know that Jesus’ ultimate aim was to be faithful to God. In other words, a Christian’s highest calling is to build up God’s reign in this world acting faithfully, not dishonestly. 

Thus, Jesus closed this section summarizing it by saying, “You cannot serve both God and wealth.” Brian McLaren, a noted Church scholar, claimed that we in the American churches have been making a deal for 400 years to turn the other cheek towards this commandment—we’ve made a deal with one another that we can serve both God and wealth. But, this makes me think of a parable we used this week in the Living Compass program.

“One evening an old Cherokee man told his grandson about a battle that goes on inside people. He said, ‘My son, the battle is between two “wolves” inside us all. One is Evil. It is anger, envy, jealousy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.

“‘The other is good. It is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith.’

“The grandson thought about it for a moment and then asked his grandfather: ‘Which wolf wins?’

“The old man simply replied, ‘The one you feed.’”[3]

We cannot serve both God and wealth. We cannot put our love of wealth over our love of God, and expect our relationship with God to deepen, strengthen, and blossom. This is not a game of Monopoly. If we put a desire for wealth over a desire for relationship we will lose—not a game, but something much more important. So which wolf will you feed? Possessions or relationships? Loving things or loving neighbors? Wealth or God?

---

[1] Allison LeBrun, Commentary on the Parable of the Unjust Steward, www.twitter.com/abbynormansays/status/1174770218603880448?s=21 (written September 19, 2019, accessed September 20, 2019).

[2] Joel B. Green, New International Commentary on the New Testament: The Gospel of Luke, (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1997), 592.

[3] Scott Stoner, Session Two Handout, Living Compass (Glendale, WI: Samaritan Family Wellness, 2016).

Take Hold of the Kingdom

"As Seen On TV" products are sometimes too good to be true, what about life in Christ?

© Seth Olson 2016-2019
September 8, 2019—The Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost—Proper 18 (Gospel Reflection Track)
Deuteronomy 30:15-20
Psalm 1

Philemon 1-21
Luke 14:25-33

The last time I had the chance to preach in this pulpit, the Gospel text was fiery. Jesus questioned, “Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division!” He called religious folk hypocrites. And, he yearned to kindle a fire on the earth. This week, Jesus called us to hate our families, endure suffering, and sell all our possessions. Preaching on these two texts back-to-back, I have to wonder if Glenda and Charles are subtly punking me as the new priest here. These Gospel stories are enough to keep me up at night.

Speaking of not sleeping, have you ever been awake in the small hours of the morning unable to doze off? Perhaps, in your fit of sleeplessness you flipped on the TV to try to find something that might help you catch some z’s. However, instead of finding a classic movie to lull you to sleep, all you discover are channels and channels full of paid programming! Has this ever happened to you?

Infomercial after infomercial after infomercial! Buy the thigh master, the peloton bike, or a magic belt and you will lose the pounds instantly. Get Jack LaLanne’s juicer and you will feel better than you ever had. Purchase the Microtouch beard trimmer and you’ll be the most handsome man on the block! Have you ever fallen for the “act now” gimmicks? Y’all don’t raise your hands—I respect all of you and don’t want that to change. If you, well not you, but if someone did fall for these ads, did having these material possessions make life any better? Probably not!

But, that hasn’t stopped retailers from devoting entire sections of their stores to this type of TV merchandise. I have yet to buy one of the “As Seen on TV” items because I see through the “but wait there’s more” antics. Somethings are truly too good to be true. What about when it comes to following Jesus?

We have shifted settings since last week’s story, which was an intimate gathering in the home of the leader of the Pharisees. Now we are outside, in public. A mass of humanity has flocked around Jesus. They have not heard the private conversation we heard last week, nor have they listened to Jesus’ focused message since turning his face towards Jerusalem. Instead, the crowd has been captivated by mere glimpses. They have seen the before and after shots of people Jesus healed. They heard testimonials from satisfied people who were fed by the Lord. They were told of a powerful message Jesus gave, and that was enough to draw them here.

Yet, unlike the infomercials’ claims that, “It’s just that easy, act now!” what Jesus told this crowd is anything but easy. Remember he told them, hate your family and yourself, give up all your possessions, and take up your cross. These words can sound so harsh to our ears, especially considering only a few chapters earlier in Luke, Jesus implored his followers to love their neighbors as themselves. A commandment that echoed all the way from Deuteronomy. As today’s first lesson put it, “[Love] the Lord your God, [walk] in his ways, and [observe] his commandments.” Moses told his people to choose this way, to choose life, which included loving your neighbor. So, why does it sound like Jesus reverses course in today’s Gospel lesson?

To better understand what Jesus meant, we must better understand the word hate. The word μισέω (miseó) is the Greek verb meaning “to hate” (who doesn’t love hearing about the Greek word for hate during a sermon?). This word didn’t mean what we often mean when we say hate. Jesus used this word to call his audience into making a moral choice. It implied not a negative feeling, but a preferred value. In other words, Jesus was not asking us to be brats towards our family, nor to carelessly throw away our lives. Rather, he was saying to be his follower requires putting discipleship above everything else—even other really good things like a juicer, no I mean our family—I was just seeing if you are paying attention. Hate in this regard is a strong word, but of a different nature, as it requires us to examine how we are ordering our lives. What do we put first?

The common Sunday School answer of “Jesus” sounds correct here, but it gets a bit trickier from there. While the grace that we receive from God is absolutely free, unconditional, and limitless, the grace we receive costs us our lives. In the context of our Gospel lesson, we might think of it in the following manner, the masses who were listening to Jesus speak had counted the kingdom’s assets, but had not considered its liabilities.[1] They were excited about all of the perks that come with following Jesus, but not what this discipleship would require of them.

For five chapters now, Jesus has been telling us about what following him will require of us. He continued walking toward Jerusalem with betrayal, crucifixion, and death as the upcoming weigh stations on his journey. These markers on the path to Eternal Life were not as appealing as uplifting teachings, profound healings, and free food, which attracted people to Jesus in the first place. To go on this journey was not and is not just a party filled with freebies, like the bonuses thrown in at the end of an infomercial. So, Jesus chose to awaken the crowd by employing these sharp words. These words were not hyperbolic words, but true words that outlined the upcoming way.

To become a disciple entails putting this relationship ahead of everything else. To be his follower asks that we choose God over cherished possessions, beloved family, and even our own lives. To walk with Jesus means picking up the cross, an instrument of shame, suffering, and death. This choice to follow requires serious contemplation, so Jesus gave two parables to understand the weight of this decision.

First, if one were building a tower would she not begin by counting the cost? Second, if one were going to war would he not start by discerning if his forces could defeat another’s troops? I am unsure if anyone here is planning on building a tower or waging a war, so what might make sense now?

If you are driving down the road and you notice a sign that informs you that after this exit the next service station is 100 miles ahead, what would you do? Would you not check to make sure you have gas? If your check engine light came on in that moment, wouldn’t you stop? How about some water and a snack for the road? The truth is that long road trips make us count the cost they require. They get us to think ahead.[2] How much more then are we to discern going on our life-long journey with Christ?

Jesus tells us we must let everything else go to follow him. Putting his challenging words into our journey metaphor, he might say, “none of you can become my disciple if you do not bid farewell to all you have.” Regardless of how we translate what Jesus said, the implication is clear. Jesus challenges the crowds and us not just to hear him metaphorically, but seriously. If we possess something else, how can we possibly take hold of the Kingdom of God?

This question brings to mind an embarrassing parable from my own life: One day a foolish collegiate-athlete was riding his bicycle to track practice. He was so excited to run a workout that he didn’t pack his books in a bag, but tried to carry them in his hands—on a bicycle. When the time came to jump it up onto the curb the foolish young man could not grab his handlebars to complete the feat, nor could he slow down the bike. So, instead of gracefully flying into practice the athlete painfully flew over his handlebars landing face first on the sidewalk (click at your own risk, the picture of the aftermath is pretty gruesome). The morale of the story? We cannot hold both the books and the handlebars. We also cannot hold onto possessions and take hold of the Kingdom of God.

Here is where the rubber meets the road on our journey with Christ. Jesus already informed us we cannot serve two masters earlier in Luke. We cannot let possessions, work, or even other relationships overshadow our dedication to Christ. What lay ahead on our journey with Jesus is at the same time the most difficult and the most freeing opportunity we'll ever have.

Jesus challenges us to let go. Let go not just of the material things, but everything that takes hold of us, everything that prevents us from receiving what God so graciously gives. Let go of your concept of the perfect life—that awesome new product (infomercial or not), the faultless kids, and the flawless marriage; the status-symbol job, extravagant wealth, and unending happiness. Let go of your expectations, for our expectations are resentments waiting to happen. Let go of it all. And, as you do, take hold of life in Christ, your cross, and the Kingdom of God—there you will discover everything that is truly important. Amen.

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[1] Jacobsen, David Schnasa. Working Preacher. August 28, 2016. https://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=2958 (accessed September 7, 2019).

[2]  Jacobsen, Working Preacher. August 28, 2016.

Into the Fire

A picture of All Saints Church after the fire of the late 1980s. It hangs on the kitchen wall at Homewood Fire Station #1.

© Seth Olson 2019

August 18, 2019—The Tenth Sunday after Pentecost—Proper 15 (Gospel Reflection Track)

Jeremiah 23:23-29
Psalm 82
Hebrews 11:29-12:2
Luke 12:49-56

Before I go any further I have to make a confession to you my friends, I love fire. Maybe I’m not technically a pyromaniac, but it’s close. I come by it honestly. When I was a child my mom signed me up to be an acolyte, but I took to it because I could play with fire. There at St. Andrew’s Birmingham as a high school student, I volunteered to be thurifer any chance I could because thurifers get to swing around fire as they waft the incense. For three summers I worked at a camp where I got to carry around torches, build bonfires, and play with campfires. Even now I have far too much fun with lighter fluid and charcoal. Two weeks ago though when my son Teddy turned two I saw another side of fire.

My family took Teddy and his cousins to Homewood Fire Station #1 where the wonderfully kind firefighters showed us around the firehouse, demonstrated how they get ready, and even let us explore the fire engines. While the kindness of the firefighters and the marvelous technology they possess stand out from that day, there’s a picture that remains even more memorable.

On the wall in the kitchen of the station there’s a stark black-and-white photograph. This photo has haunted me ever since I saw it. It showed this very nave after the destructive fire of the late 1980s. As sunlight shone in from the holes in the roof, several inches of water flooded the floor making kneelers look like little rafts in the ashy liquid. When I saw that picture my gut knotted up and I felt the overwhelming fear that fire can kindle.

Herein lies the dilemma with fire, it provides light, warmth, and a means to sustenance, but it can also burn us, ruin property and even destroy lives. So when Jesus harnessed some fiery language in today’s Gospel lesson we would be wise to carefully examine his words. What was Jesus saying here? Was he illuminating us or burning us?

If we cherry pick just a few phrases from today’s lesson, we get pyro-Jesus. He catches the earth on fire, divides us, and calls us hypocrites. You might want to duck and cover when you hear this Jesus coming. I know I do. I preached on this set of readings three years ago, and I completely dodged this Gospel lesson because of its fire-filled nature. Today, I’m just foolish enough to get burned. These phrases about fire, division, and hypocrisy are not it—they aren’t all that is here. They do catch our ear though.

Many of us have a vision of a smiling, storm-calling, lamb-holding Jesus, so when we hear such strong language coming from God’s Son, we do a double-take. This rhetoric is nothing new though. For the past three chapters in Luke’s telling of the story, Jesus has grown more intense. And, can you blame him? As he put it in verse 50, “I have a baptism with which to be baptized, and what stress I am under until it is completed!” Jesus had turned toward Jerusalem and he clearly saw that his ministry led him directly to death—hence the great stress. As he anticipated this baptism of fire, something John the Baptist foretold very early in Luke, Jesus warned us of the perils of following him. Last week we heard of these dangers too.

In that passage from the same chapter, Jesus urged his followers to store treasure in heaven and to be ready for the Son of Man coming. In the story which lay between last week’s and this week’s lessons, Peter wondered whether Jesus’ warnings were for the disciples or for the larger crowd.

Instead of a direct answer, Jesus told a parable about continued watchfulness, and he backed it up by saying something that has made its way into our day-to-day language, as the phrase “To whom much is given, much is tested.” This section in total informs a different depiction of Jesus than a mellow, backwater carpenter. But, returning to today’s passage, I still wonder, why was Jesus so fiery?

Unfortunately, some of our fellow Christians have used passages like today’s to preach turn-or-burn style messages. Make no mistake, Jesus was speaking of decisions of paramount importance. And yet, today’s message is not about the eternal flames of hell. This fire is a refining one.

As Jesus drew nearer to the Cross and death, his message became clearer regarding the consequences of following him. A person back then who belonged to a traditional Jewish household who chose to follow Jesus would put herself at odds with the rest of her family. Or, a Roman soldier who decided to walk in the way of Christ would create a firewall between himself and his brothers-in-arms. Today’s fiery language was a way for Jesus to slap a warning label upon discipleship. “This will cost you,” Jesus seemed to say, “Maybe not your life, but possibly some of the most important relationships in it.” So on what are we risking our lives or at least our relationships?

To understand why someone would be willing to threaten such important things in following Jesus, we must first understand the core characteristic of Jesus and in turn His Heavenly Father. We do not explicitly find that attribute in today’s Gospel lesson. We see the consequences of it, but not the reason. We do however find the trait in today’s Psalm.

Psalm 82, according to one scholar, is the most important text in the entire Bible—because it shows us who God truly is. The most important characteristic of God is not infinite power. It’s not omnipotence. It’s not even immortality. So what is it?

In this ancient hymn, we discover that God’s most fitting trait is justice. God is always just! God fights against all the cosmic forces in the council of heaven who judge unjustly. God renders unjust all these other "gods" because they show favor to the wicked, fail to save the weak and the orphan, and abandon the humble and the needy. In the most epic cosmic aside of all time, God sighs and says, “They do not know, neither do they understand; they go about in darkness.” Talk about a burn! But, what’s the result?

All of these would-be-gods are not God because they are unjust. As a result, they are cast down from their perch in the council of heaven. They become like “any prince.” Now, we aren’t polytheistic and this clearly shows a less developed view of God than we are accustomed to in our Judeo-Christian worldview, but the point of this Psalm is nonetheless clear. God does not stand for injustice. And, if the prayer we pray most often is any indication, we want God’s reign to happen on earth as it is in this heavenly vision. Therefore, we too must oppose injustice. And that is the theme that ties together all four readings for today.

Jeremiah stood up to false prophets who made God’s people forget God’s name. In the Psalm, God cast out of heaven all forces which perpetuated unjust ways. In Hebrews, those exemplars of faithfulness, including people who were not always just in the eyes of the world, persevered in faithfulness running toward God’s justice as their prize. And this brings us back to our fire-filled Gospel lesson.

Jesus’ radical teaching of God’s justice was in and of itself divisive. When someone speaks a challenging word to us we may draw closer or we may run in the other direction. This was the case with Jesus. When he spoke the hard truth that God’s way means putting the needs of the poor, the weak, the orphan, the humble, the lowly, the foreigner, the exploited, the forgotten, and the other above our own, it created division. This truth caused some to feel burned while those left out in the cold finally felt warmth.

What about today? What about us? Is Jesus illuminating or burning us?

Well, it may be both.

A few years ago I was driving out in New Mexico through Bandelier National Monument. The Forest Service had recently conducted a controlled burn through part of the park. Some of the grounds were still smoldering. Other sections had been burned several months earlier. As I drove a van full of usually boisterous college students through the burnt forest, everyone fell silent. The same sort of internal hush that I felt when I saw the picture of All Saints in the fire station. In that burned over forest though there were sprouts of green. These ultra-green sprigs rose from the ashes.

Our lives may very well be like that forest. And Jesus’ word may very well be like that fire. Healthy sections may grow without ceasing. Other parts may need to be singed or burned to grow into God’s grace. God’s fire though is not meant to end our lives. Rather it leads us into new life. 

Following Jesus will challenge us. It should come with a warning label: "May impact your relationships." But as we shift from “my will be done” to “thy will be done.” Jesus calls us to pursue God’s justice, loving our neighbor as ourselves, and as we do, God’s fire will refine our lives leaving new patches of growth everywhere.

How Do We Preach Division?

Preaching on the weather (and James Spann) would be much easier than preaching on this set of readings.

There’s a whole lot in this week’s readings worth noting: Jeremiah sounding off against false prophets, God striking down false gods in the council of heaven, the writer of Hebrews challenging readers to run the race of perseverance, and Jesus revealing his pyromaniac side. Given we encounter a feisty and fiery Jesus what’s a preacher to do? I believe a helpful place to start is Jesus’ last question.

“You know how to interpret the appearance of earth and sky, but why do you not know how to interpret the present time?” Everyone can talk about the weather—it’s a universally acceptable topic of conversation. I particularly love conversing about clouds, storm systems, and barometric pressure, but I’m the guy who has four weather apps on my phone. My sweet sister gifted me a couple of the expensive ones because she wanted to make sure I’m weather aware—and boy am I! I’ve got the same radar that James Spann uses, and I can carry it around with me everywhere I go. I know which way the wind is blowing, have alerts for all types of severe weather, and even know when it’s going to start raining minutes before it happens. So, I feel pretty good about answering Jesus, “Yes I know how to interpret the appearance of earth and sky—or at least my app developers do.” But, the trouble comes in the second part of his question (I can’t seem to escape an impassioned Jesus). Why do you not know how to interpret the present time?

Why do I not know how to interpret the present time? Good question! The more I think about the present moment though, the more confused I get. It’s not to say that it wasn’t complicated 2,000 years ago. Especially since Jesus turned his face toward Jerusalem in Luke 9:51 the drama has heightened but the world around Jesus became more delineate, more black and white. And, this Sunday we hear Jesus drawing or perhaps burning a line in the sand. Those listening were challenged to make a decision, but it wasn’t turn or burn like we might be thinking (more on the type of fire in a moment).

The early followers of Jesus would have offended their parents or children or neighbors, as they sided with Jesus instead of other worldviews. Those times were certainly divisive, and with hindsight and bias we judge which side we would choose to join. What about today though? A good sermon this week might highlight the challenges we face in our current divisive age.

Right now appears even more divided than any other time—including Jesus' own. We can see people’s opinions instantaneously on social media. When we do we can simply unfriend or unfollow those people with whom we disagree. We can watch our chosen brand of 24-hour news to further hammer home how right we are—and how wrong everyone else is. People can even quit going to a church if someone in the pulpit or the pew says something they don’t like. But, take any hot-button issue and try to interpret a peaceable solution and life will get quite complicated quite quickly. I don’t mean that people cannot figure out what they think about given issue—or what side to choose. No, I mean that all of us are struggling to coalesce and find consensus. It feels impossible to arrive at solutions where all are heard, respected, and satisfied with the result.

Experiencing the log-jammed nature of today helps me to understand Jesus’ frustration in this week’s Gospel lesson. A helpful sermon might speak of fire (told you I'd come back to it). Fire not as a way to scare people into choosing heaven over hell, but rather as a way to burn away that which does not fall in line with God’s will. Jesus used this image of fire to illuminate how God refines us. Jesus was rifting on the same image that Jeremiah used several centuries earlier. This might be another good jumping off spot for a sermon.

Jeremiah was tired of hearing the false prophets of his own day. These errant teachers were claiming that they had dreams from God, so that they could benefit themselves. This is not unlike some infamous televangelists who use hapless viewer’s charity to buy private jets or mansions. Jeremiah could not condone any of these nightmarish dreams which led God’s people astray.

A compelling dream and a flashy sales pitch can make people fall for just about anything. In this case it could even make God’s people forget God’s name. However, even more powerful than the false prophet’s dream is the Word of God. The Word of God can burn like a dividing fire and split open like a rock hammer. Still in both the Gospel lesson and here in Jeremiah we may not understand what is at stake along these dividing lines, as we experience the fiery word of God, which is where this week’s Psalm comes in handy. Again, another good sermon departure point.

Often I overlook the Psalmody in my sermon prep. They’re just old songs, right? Yes, but even though we often read them and move on these hymns cover the gamut of human experience from lamentation to ecstasy, from birth to death, from history to the end times. And, this week's psalm has a direct way of depicting who God truly is.

In Psalm 82, we are placed in the council of heaven, a common concept in the Ancient Near East—including ancient Israel and Judah. Here, YHWH or the Most High God was holding all others that were not the Most High God accountable. God took a stand against all forces not God. God took this stand because these other forces were judging unjustly. We might wonder what is the most important characteristic that makes God… well… God. Is it omnipotence? Is it infinite power? Is it immortality? What is it?

Psalm 82 responds to those questions in an unexpected way to me. All those forces in the council of heaven were cast down out of the realm of the immortal because they were... wait for it... unjust. God's most critical component here is not omnipotence, power, or immortality. It's justice! These others were showing favor to the wicked, not saving the weak and the orphan nor defending the humble and needy. They were not rescuing the weak and the poor, nor delivering them from the power of the wicked. And in a great cosmic aside, God said, “They do not know, neither do they understand; they go about in darkness; all the foundations of the earth are shaken.” In other words, these others go about in ignorance and haphazardly shake the very foundation of creation with their injustice. As a result of not living into the justice that God intended, they were cast out of this celestial realm.

Now my fellow preacher, justice is a powerful word to throw around from the pulpit. When I say justice everyone can nod their head and in other parts of the Jesus Movement people might even say “Amen!” to such a profound word. However, there’s a problem with this word. When I say justice there are as many different concepts of what that looks like as there are people in the pews. So, let me elaborate on this term using the vision that God sets forth here in Psalm 82 and also in Luke’s Gospel account.

Justice sides not with the wicked—i.e. anyone who takes advantage of the poor—but rather God’s vision of justice saves the weak and the orphan, defends the humble and needy, rescues the weak and the poor, and delivers them from those who would exploit them. And this theme, this vision of justice isn’t simply present here in Psalm 82, it’s also what Luke has been building towards throughout his entire story of Jesus.

Three canticles at the start of Luke portray this vision. Zechariah, John the Baptizer’s father, sang of this justice when he spoke of being delivered out of the hands of enemies and into freedom by God’s mercy. Simeon shared of this justice through the release for all of God’s people that he saw in the coming of the Christ child. And Mary most pointedly praised God’s justice as she sang, “He has shown the strength of his arm, he has scattered the proud in their conceit. He has cast down the mighty from their thrones, and has lifted up the lowly. He has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich he has sent away empty.” This is the vision of justice that God makes known to us, but what does this mean to us? And how can we preach when we and our congregations are often proud, mighty, and rich? I don't have a good answer for this, which is why I'm still working on my sermon.

There is a dilemma set forth in this week’s texts. Jesus touches on a nerve that Jeremiah experienced in his day, and we feel in our own. Jesus points to divisions that arise when we have to choose something paramount over something important. What happens when the stakes are raised to this level?

I believe we find the most profound truth in the psalmist's words. God is not God if God is unjust. And we in turn are not God’s people if we are perpetuating injustice. We are called to persevere just like that great cloud of witnesses persevered in the letter to the Hebrews. Our perseverance as preachers is difficult. For calling out injustice in our congregations and in our world must be done with a pastoral heart. And first Jesus’ fiery, cutting language must convict us as followers of Christ, so that all which does not fall in line with God’s will burns away. How do we preach division? First, we must allow God's refining fire to unite our true selves with Christ.