When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.” But Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord.” But he said to them, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.”

A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.” Thomas answered him, “My Lord and my God!” Jesus said to him, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.

John 20:19-31

Pastor Marc's sermon on Second Sunday of Easter (April 28, 2019) on John 20:19-31. Listen to the recording here or read my manuscript below. 

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One of the things we don’t always notice about Jesus is just how physical he was. We have no problem remembering him as the Son of God but we forget that he was also the son of Mary. Jesus was fully divine but he was also fully human which means he had a human body that did all the things human bodies do. So let’s take a second - and pay attention to what our bodies are doing right now. Notice whatever it’s feeling. Pay attention to what aches. Listen to your stomach as it rumbles. And accept that the yawn you’re about to make is a sign you stayed up way too late. Your body is, for better or worse, doing exactly what bodies do. And Jesus, the Son of God and the Son of Mary, had a body that did those things too. He knew what it was like to ache. He knew pain. And I also believe there were times when Jesus laughed so hard, he literally fell off of whatever he was reclining on. God chose to be bodied and through that body God showed how Love can be embodied too. Jesus’ body wasn’t a costume God wore while Jesus moved from Christmas to Good Friday. Instead, God became incarnate, became human, because our body is where we meet God.

Today’s reading from the gospel according to John is a reading we hear every year on the Sunday after Easter. After walking in the early dawn hours with the women who discovered Jesus’ tomb empty after his crucifixion and death, we take a week before listening to John’s version of what happened later on that first Easter day. The disciples had locked themselves behind a closed door, afraid that the authorities who killed Jesus might soon come after them. We know that many of the disciples heard that the tomb was empty because Mary Magdalene told them about her personal encounter with the risen Jesus. But we get a sense by the actions of the disciples that Mary’s story wasn’t enough. Her words, by themselves, were not able to bring peace because the disciples were filled with anxiety and fear. Some might have been sitting by the cooking fires, eating their feelings while others hadn’t felt hungry in days. Even if some of the disciple were able to tell a joke, their laughter couldn’t hide just how broken and weary their hearts actually were. The disciples didn’t know what to do next - so they ended up staying together. And while they were locked in that room by themselves, Jesus entered and said “peace be with you.”

But the Jesus in John does more than just speak. He’s, instead, completely there. Everything that made Jesus, Jesus, showed up to those disciples behind that locked door. At first, we might be a little skeptical, seeing as how he either walked through a locked door or materialized out of nothingness in front of his friends. The Jesus we know was embodied and the last time I tried to take my body through a locked door, I didn’t get very far. Jesus’ first movement in this scene made him appear to be immaterial or to have at least transcended beyond what we know the physical world to be. We expect him, then, to be something like an angel or maybe a bit more like we imagine God to be - more divine, more healed, and more perfect. We don’t expect Jesus to keep doing bodily things. And yet - he did. He stood among his friends instead of floating or hovering above them. He showed everyone the spots in his hands where the nails were driven through and the part of his body where the spear pierced his side. Jesus’ resurrected body wasn’t scared. Instead, it’s still hurt, still wounded, and marked by what life had given him. And if that wasn’t enough, Jesus then breathed on everyone in the room…. which sounds a bit gross. How often do we like being breathed on? The smell, the dampness, the sound, and just the act of being breathed on can make us squirm, especially if it’s unexpected or unwanted. And the act of being breathed on is incredibly intimate and very personal. Yet that word “on” probably isn’t the best English translation of the original greek this passage was first written in. We don’t have to worry too much about what kind of Altoid would be able to deal with death-and-resurrection breath because that word should really be “into.” Jesus breathed into his disciples, not just on them. This kind of breath is more than a few bits of exhaled air hitting our face. The breath Jesus gives is the same breath God used way back in Genesis 2 to give life to all of humankind. The disciples, as they see the resurrected Jesus in their midst, do more than bear witness. They are, instead, caught up in a moment of new creation. The very breath of God that formed the universe - now lives in them. The Holy Spirit, the life-energy of God that sustains, creates, and makes all things new, is now part who they are. No longer are they merely people with bodies that are broken, aging, and never doing exactly what we want them to do. Now their bodies, while unchanged, are brand new because they are filled with everything that God uses to give life.

In a few moments, I’m going to invite G. and her family up to the front. She’s pretty young, with a lifetime ahead of her to see what bodies can do. She’ll start small, working on getting her fingers into her mouth. But then she’ll crawl, climb, and feel what it’s like to have grass between her toes. She’ll learn to laugh, to feel love, and to hold onto hope. She’ll discover what it’s like to reach her limit and what happens when she goes past it and makes a new personal best. She’ll also learn what it’s like to fail, to mess up, to be anxious, and to sometimes be afraid. G. will soon discover what our life with our bodies is all about. Yet, no matter what, the God who created her will always love her. We will, in a few moments, join everything that makes G., G., with everything that makes Jesus, Jesus. She will hear, in the words we share, how God’s story of salvation includes even her. She will feel, with water pouring over her head, how the gift of faith, hope, and love belongs to her. She will smell the olives in the oil that marks her forehead with the promise that Jesus will be with her wherever she goes. And she will see the bright light of a lit candle, knowing that God’s life-giving light now burns in her. She won’t always remember this - but she will have an entire community alongside her as Jesus leads her on the way. Because all of us meet God through our bodies. And it’s these bodies, exactly as they are, that God uses to make everybody discover just how much they are included, welcomed, and loved.

Amen. 

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"People are surprised when they see me, a 16-year-old male high school student, talking about ovaries. My baseball coaches look at me a bit weird when I need off from practice to talk about ovaries. They don't ask much, and I'm always excused."

One of my favorite regular features in our denomination's monthly magazine (Living Lutheran - www.livinglutheran.com) is "I'm a Lutheran." This monthly article series shines a light on members of the ELCA who are living out their faith every day. Past articles have included an NPR reporter, a musician, a chef, an astronomer, a college student, a jewelry designer and an undocumented migrant. The May 2019 issue introduced me to Ryan Walton, a sophomore from Tucson, Arizona. His mother was diagnosed with ovarian cancer while she was pregnant with him. Since a very young age, he's been attending 5k’s and charity events to support researchers, survivors and those undergoing treatment for ovarian cancer. Even his project for confirmation was about raising awareness for the disease. In 2018, he became a speaker at national events, including at the National Ovarian Cancer Coalition's annual conference. And he was recently named an "Ovarian Cancer Hero Award Winner" by Cure Magazine.

He knows it surprises others when he speaks about ovaries, and yet he keeps doing it. He uses what he has been given—a voice, an experience and his faith—to make a difference for others. He won't feel the physical effects of ovarian cancer, but he still advocates for those who will.

When we follow Jesus, we will find ourselves doing surprising things. We will advocate and support those who are undergoing struggles we don't have to. Jesus, as a member of the Trinity, didn't let his divinity deny his humanity (aka Philippians 2:5-11). Instead, he used his gifts to love the world. What gifts do you have? When was the last time you advocated for a cause that didn't impact you personally? And how does your faith shine bright for others?

See you in church!
Pastor Marc

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For the next six weeks, we'll read selections from the Acts of the Apostles (aka Acts). Acts was, most likely, written by the same person who wrote Luke. The gospel according to Luke focused on Jesus' ministry while Acts told a story about the beginning of the church. At its center, Acts used the ministry of Peter and Paul as the pillars of their story. Through them, we discover who the church spread throughout the Roman world. Each faith community was very small but they popped up in the inner cities of what ae now Syria, Jordan, Lebanon, Turkey, Greece, and Egypt. Acts shows us how the Holy Spirit made the people who followed Jesus into a united and loving body of believers designed for the benefit of the world.

Today's reading (Acts 5:27-32) begins in Jerusalem. Jesus' followers had continued to pray in the Temple and shared their faith with their family, friends, and neighbors. The religious authorities were not thrilled with this behavior and had a nasty habit of throwing them in prison. Yet the community kept preaching. Those in authority were not quite sure what to do about this new movement. But they were afraid of it. Jesus' followers proclaimed how the religious and political authorities had killed Jesus. And those with power assumed Jesus' disciples would seek vengeance for what had happened. They hoped that arresting Jesus' followers would protect themselves from whatever wrath might come. Those with power were afraid. And that fear drove them to react harshly to what Jesus' disciples were doing.

But wrath, revenge, and giving into fear were not what the good news of Jesus was all about. In the words of Rev. Brian Peterson, "The gracious surprise of this text is that the result of Jesus’ resurrection, even in the face of continuing posturing and self-protective threat, is not vengeance but mercy." Often, fear of the 'other' is used as an excuse to punish and harm them. We distort the message of the gospel when we use it to encourage violence against 'those people' because they threaten our authority, power, or sense of (false) security in some way. Yet today's text, "from beginning to end, is the unsurprisingly constant story of human fear and self- protection even if it costs others everything, and the surprisingly even more constant story of God’s mercy. What Peter is preaching to the council is not vengeance, but the gospel." And that gospel is centered on the gift of repentance, forgiveness, and love.

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Christ is Risen! Alleluia!

One of my favorite moments in Luke's version (Luke 24:1-12) of the empty tomb is the interaction between the women and the two men. The women, who just witnessed Jesus' death, were visiting the tomb to perform a burial ritual. They expected to walk to the tomb and find it exactly as it was left. However, once they get there, the tomb was already open. The women, confused, peaked in and nothing was there. Suddenly two men in dazzling clothes (aka angels) appeared. The women, shocked and terrified, recognized these men to be divine so they bowed down, shielding their eyes and faces. We could (and maybe should) read the words the two men spoke to the women as meant to be reassuring and comforting. But I also like to imagine these divine messengers being a bit shocked by the women's reaction. These women were the most faithful followers of Jesus. They stayed when every one else fled and made plans to tend to him after he was dead. The women knew Jesus, followed Jesus, and loved Jesus. And even when they didn't know what God was up to. So the divine messengers invited them to remember. As Jesus' most faithful disciples, they should have expected the unexpected Yet in their shock and grief, their expectations got the better of them.

If we're honest about our faith, there are times when we struggle to see what God is up to. We don't always see Jesus clearly, nor do we always know exactly how faith should make a difference in our lives. It doesn't really matter how often we attend church or how often we pray; it's normal to have a moment when we feel as if God has left us alone. This kind of experience doesn't match up with expectations we have for our lives or the expectations we have for God. Yet, it's maybe at those moments when we should remember the words the two men shared in Jesus' tomb 2000 years ago. When we are trapped by our dead-end expectations, we're invited to remember that our Savior is alive. Our limitations are not how God defines us nor are our expectations the limit of what God has in mind. When the women went to the tomb, their mission was to bury Jesus properly. But after they were met by the empty tomb, they suddenly became brand new. The women were the first to proclaim the resurrection, the first to proclaim that Jesus was raised, and the first to say that God was undoing our expectations. They became, in that moment, the first Christians. We don't always know what Jesus is doing in our life. But we can trust that Jesus is alive - and that he will, in the end, always carry us through.

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But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they came to the tomb, taking the spices that they had prepared. They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, but when they went in, they did not find the body. While they were perplexed about this, suddenly two men in dazzling clothes stood beside them. The women were terrified and bowed their faces to the ground, but the men said to them, ‘Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen. Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day rise again.’ Then they remembered his words, and returning from the tomb, they told all this to the eleven and to all the rest. Now it was Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women with them who told this to the apostles. But these words seemed to them an idle tale, and they did not believe them. But Peter got up and ran to the tomb; stooping and looking in, he saw the linen cloths by themselves; then he went home, amazed at what had happened.

Luke 24:1-12

Pastor Marc's sermon on Easter Sunday (April 21, 2019) on Luke 24:1-12. Listen to the recording here or read my manuscript below. 

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One of the joys about being a parent of three small kids is that I get to spend a lot time with the middle of the night. I’m there when someone’s a little fussy, a little sick, or when they’ve decided that 3 am in the morning is the right time to start their day. Now that phrase, the middle of the night, can be used many different ways. We use it to describe those moments when we’ve stayed up way past our bedtime or when we’re talking about what we saw, felt, and experienced while working on the graveyard shift. The middle of the night tends to be exactly that - a time designation used to identify when something happened. But that’s not the middle of the night I know. When you’re awake when you don’t want to be, time stops being time - and instead the middle of the night becomes a character in your own story. It usually has its own look - maybe gloomy, dark, and damp - and it comes with its own sounds - like a single car driving down street or the creak of the floor as you walk across it. The middle of the night comes with its own thoughts - including moments of inspiration, an opportunity to re-experience old embarrassments, and time to focus on our current anxieties. That kind of night is more than just a moment in time. It’s a presence that we meet when we can’t sleep or when our 3 month old just has to get up.

I have no idea if the women who followed Jesus slept those first few nights after he died. Scripture doesn’t go into detail about what they felt, thought, or experienced. Instead, we’re given this space - this gap in the story - that invites us, I think, to use our imagination. Whenever we come across a moment in the Bible that could use a little more detail, that’s God inviting us to use the gift of our imagination to put ourselves into the story. But to do that faithfully, we need to remember the parts of the Bible around that gap. We need to remember what happened before the first day of the week.

Now, over the last week, we’ve spent time listening to Jesus’ final journey into Jerusalem. We heard about his arrest, trial, and his eventual execution. But Luke also gave us one verse letting us know that when Jesus was on the Cross, the women who followed him, stayed. They kept their distance - but they were close enough to see his final moments and to know where his body was laid. The women kept watch while the rest of the disciples, including Peter, James, and Thomas - scattered. Those men who followed Jesus didn’t see the rest of the story and Luke doesn’t tell us when they finally learned that Jesus had died. But I think we can assume that, once they saw Jesus arrested and handed over to the Roman Governor, Pontius Pilate, they knew how Jesus’ story would turn out. The Roman authorities would never tolerate anyone who gave others a different kind of life where the Roman Emperor wasn’t the ultimate decider of what was true and right. So once Jesus was put on trial, some of the disciples already knew what to expect. The tale they told themselves about Jesus didn’t need any outside confirmation. Jesus had been arrested by Rome - and so they thought they knew what would happen next.

Yet the women stayed. They’re the ones who looked on. They saw their teacher, their friend, the One who had healed the sick, welcomed the unwelcomed, and who reconciled our relationships with our God and with each other - end up being arrested and mocked by an Empire that could only say no: no to a way of life that valued peace over violence; no to a way of life that focused on healing rather than competition; no to a way of life that didn’t celebrate winners but instead invited the marginalized, the poor, and those we ignore - to thrive. Jesus was doing more than offering life lessons to those who followed him. Instead, He gave them a new life that wouldn’t let the world’s values of power, control, dominance, and injustice be, in the end, what finally defined them.

So - the women stayed - and they’re the ones who witnessed all of Jesus’ story. After his death, they returned to the places where they were staying, and they started preparing the spices needed to give Jesus a proper burial. All Luke tells us is that the women “prepared.” But I like to imagine that, as they worked, the women told each other the story that mattered to them. Which means they admitted their heartbreak. They shared in their confusion. And they made sure all knew that none of them could really sleep. And how, even during the day, it felt like night.

We can, as we are right now, sit with the women in that moment. We can share with each other, our stories - including all our hopes and dreams and even those moments when things didn’t turn out the way we wanted. We, along with those women, can admit our heartbreak, our worries, our fears, and what’s causing us to spent too much time with the middle of the night. Regardless of who we are or where we’re from; whether we come to church every Sunday or if we’re visiting for the very first time - God wants us, right now, to be exactly who are. Because those women, 2000 years ago, were exactly who they were too. They were caught in the middle of their night and they weren’t sure what to do next. So they did what they could. They gathered together. They leaned on each other. They shared their story and, above all, they loved, cared, and served one another. They were the body of Christ, they were the church, together. And even though they were living in the middle of their night, these women - Mary, Joanna, Mary, and others - would be the ones who followed Jesus to the end. Because they knew - that Jesus had never stopped loving them.

And so on the first day of the week, they got up in the middle of the night so that they could be at the tomb at dawn. They took everything they had prepared, even though they had no idea how they were going to open the tomb to see him. I imagine they were still in grief and were afraid that the Empire of No would deny them the chance to go to the tomb. But unlike the other disciples, unlike those who were already telling themselves a tale about Jesus of their own choosing, the women showed up, together. And when they got to the tomb, the stone door was rolled way. Their fears changed. They were filled with new questions. And they suddenly discovered that the middle of their night would not be what finally defined them. They were the first to be given Jesus’ full story. And that story - that Jesus - has been, through our faith and through our baptism, given to us too. The idle tale we tell ourselves that’s filled with all the things that keep us up in the middle of the night will not be the limit to who we are. Because, on Easter morning, in the middle of the night, a new chapter for Jesus - broke open. And because of Him, a new chapter in our story has already begun.

Amen.

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When was the last time you started anything in silence? Most mornings, I’m greeted by the noise of a truck driving by, the alarm on my phone beeping, and my kids playing games in the living room. Silence doesn’t always happen organically. We occasionally need to work to create some silence around us. Today, we will create silence to start our worship. There will be no prelude, announcements, or handshakes. Instead, we are invited to show up as we are, in silence. The Good Friday liturgy isn’t designed to break that silence. Instead, we’re invited to live into it. Every word we speak, song we sing, and prayer we offer is a reminder that God, through our crucified savior, is filling even the silence with something new.

I invite you, over the next 36 hours, to notice the silent moments in your life. Track those moments when you can’t hear the birds outside or cars driving by. See how long those moments last. And while you reflect on the silence, use that opportunity to pay attention to what you’re experiencing. How are you feeling? What are you sensing? What fear, anxiety, or worries are bothering you? What joy is filling your soul? Good Friday is a day when we discover who we are and who God is. We shouldn’t rush to Easter. We should spend time with the horror, suffering, and grace in the Passion of Jesus. Hold onto the silence you hear. Pay attention to yourself. And let’s get ready to meet the God who is already filling your life with mercy, hope, and love.

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It’s sort of amazing that one of the gospels we quote from the most (aka John 3:16) also contains the communion practice we practice the least. Foot washing is a liturgical act we do once a year (and sometimes not even that often). Yet we know foot washing mattered to the community around John because they made sure it appeared in their version of Jesus’ story. The stories contained in the gospels do more than describe events that happened in the past. These stories also reveal which parts of Jesus’ story mattered the most to specific communities. Those stories were then ritualized as a way to make Jesus’ story their own. John’s community did not record a communion moment like the other three (and Paul) did. Instead, John highlighted a ritual his community might have done weekly: foot washing (John 13:1-17,31-35).

Foot washing is a very personal and intimate act. Unless we’re a doctor or a podiatrist, we rarely touch other people’s feet or let other people touch ours. Right now, in our cultural context, the question of touch is a big issue. We’re having a wider debate about what kind of touch (even some that might be viewed as affectionate) is acceptable. Part of that conversation, I think, is about ownership. We’re debating the desire of “person A” to hug or kiss-hello “person B” trumps the desire for person B to give permission to be handled in that way. Physical touch, when uninvited, is haunting and terrifying. But when that touch is consensual, a connection and commitment can be formed that transcends time. In Jesus’ day, only slaves washed people’s feet. The slaves had no control over their body and had to touch others. A person who was washed by a slave knew the slave could not say no. But the person who was being washed could, in theory, step away. They knew, automatically, they were superior to that slave. They consented to being touched because they had ownership over their own body and the slave did not. Jesus’ washing of his disciples’ feet shocked everyone. Even though Jesus chose to wash others, he’s entering into the role of the person who could not say no. A slave had no control over the violence done to their body. And, as we’ll see on Good Friday, the Roman Empire made sure Jesus had no control over his, too.

If having your feet washed makes you uncomfortable, then you are already starting to get the point of the story. If you choose to stay in your pews tonight instead of coming to the front, your experience is similar to what Peter felt 2000 years ago. In this place and in this church, you will always have ownership over your own body. We will not ask you to do something to violate your bodily autonomy. Jesus’ gift of communion, his literal body for us, allows us to finally own what has been given to us: we are made in God’s image and that is something no one can take away from us.

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For I received from the Lord what I also handed on to you, that the Lord Jesus on the night when he was betrayed took a loaf of bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, "This is my body that is for you. Do this in remembrance of me." In the same way he took the cup also, after supper, saying, "This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me." For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord's death until he comes.

1 Corinthians 11:23-26

Pastor Marc's sermon on Maundy Thursday (April 18, 2019) on 1 Corinthians 11:23-26. Listen to the recording here or read my manuscript below. 

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There’s a moment at the start of every dinner party I try to host when I stare at a completely empty table and say - to no one in particular - “now what?” It’s sort of a code word I use to help my brain take what I want to do and turn it into reality. I have a vision of what I want the experience to be like and I hope to make that experience a reality for all my guests. And so, yesterday afternoon, as I was standing in the center aisle here at church, I looked around and said to no one - “now what?” We don’t always talk about worship as if it’s a dinner party but, on some level, it is. There’s a little food, a little drink, and special dishes we don’t use for anything else. Our worship includes a lot of words, some music, people who show up early, and others who are always fashionably late. We assume we’re already on the guestlist but we expect that some people will show up that we don’t know. And if we’ve been coming to this dinner party for awhile, we already know where we want to sit before we even step through the front door. Over the last 2000 years, the church has created a worship event that is designed to feed our connection with God and with one another. And that act of feeding and connection is really what the best kind of dinner parties try to pull off. They do not try to impose anything on you; instead, they invite you into an experience that lets you discover more about yourself and about your reality. To make that happen, a dinner party needs to know why it exists and what core essence makes it unique and different. And that’s why, in our reading from 1st Corinthians, Paul took a moment to remind the church what dining with Jesus was all about.

The church in Corinth was a Christian community that Paul founded sometime in the 40s or early 50s. He was with them for about 18 months before heading off to a new town to plant another church. The church in Corinth, like all churches in Paul’s day, was small - with maybe only two dozen members at most. Yet within this small community, there was an incredible amount of diversity. Some in the community could read while others could not. Some were rich while others struggled to make ends meet. And some who gathered for worship were free, able to move around the city at ease, while others were slaves, with no control over the violence done to their own bodies. Each one of them, had committed themselves to be part of Christ’s church. Yet this new, small, and vibrant faith community - was conflicted. They argued over many different things including who Jesus was and how their faith should inform how they live. We don’t know all the details about every argument in that church but we can infer from Paul’s letters that these conflicts were driving the community apart. Not everyone agreed with everyone else and instead of affirming or living with those differences, they chose to silo themselves off into cliques of their own choosing. They still gathered together as followers of Jesus - but they didn’t have any real regard for one another.

Now, in the first faith communities, eating together mattered. When they came together to worship, their prayers, conversations, and songs also included a potluck meal. We can imagine they came to church carrying not only their version of morning coffee but also a Roman casserole dish with something for everyone to share. Except - sharing was something the community in Corinth wasn’t doing. And, in fact, the people  weren’t even gathering together at the same time. Those who were financially secure had a little more freedom in what they could bring to worship and when they would show up. Those with money would show up to church first, uncover their hotdish, and start eating. While those who needed to work long hours just to survive would arrive in the worship space a little later only to discover that worshipped had already started without them. The wealthy would have already eaten, leaving nothing for those who could bring only a little. In that communal space, people ended up creating a private meal and worship event only for themselves. In Corinth, being late meant that you were poor. And there was nothing fashionable about having to show up after the event had already started. Those with any kind of financial security started things when they wanted and they could bring whatever they had. They were dictating and creating a church that matched their lifestyle, point of view, and experience. And it was obvious, in that worship space, who was elite and who was not. Worship wasn’t really about spending time with Jesus. Instead, it was becoming another opportunity for the social divisions that mattered in the wider community to manifest themselves even around Jesus’ table.

So Paul reached into the traditions he was given to remind the church that, because of Jesus, we live with a different set of values. In this, the earliest written record of Holy Communion that we have, Paul laid out the essence of what Jesus’ dinner party is all about. The “now what?” of Jesus’ table wasn’t focused on the design of the dishware, the menu, or the look of the centerpieces. The Lord’s table, instead, is an inclusive event that does not distinguish between rich and poor* nor does it let our divisions get in the way of what Jesus has already done. As followers of Christ, as those with faith, and as those who have been baptized - Jesus has already made a place at His table for you. Our seat doesn’t depend on how much money we make, on what food we can bring, or even if we believe we truly belong there. The “now what?” of knowing Jesus is all about sitting with him and making sure we don’t get in the way of anyone Jesus’ calls to sit by our side. We live this way because: Jesus once gathered his friends and took bread, telling them this was his body and they should eat. Jesus also took a cup, gave thanks, and told them to drink.* Paul reminded the community in Corinth, and he reminds us, that the essence of the dinner party Jesus throws is one where God’s love overcomes the social divisions we love to perpetuate. When we gather around His table, our “now what?” isn’t to keep the barriers between us up because we are not here by ourselves. We are here with God and everyone Jesus calls. We are to be with each other - because that’s how we become the diverse, loving, inviting, empowering, caring, loving, and united people God has designed us to be.

Amen.

* Melissa Florer-Bixler. Christian Century. Sunday’s Coming - Email sent on April 10, 2019

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After he had said this, [Jesus] went on ahead, going up to Jerusalem. When he had come near Bethphage and Bethany, at the place called the Mount of Olives, he sent two of the disciples, saying, "Go into the village ahead of you, and as you enter it you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden. Untie it and bring it here. If anyone asks you, 'Why are you untying it?' just say this, 'The Lord needs it.'" So those who were sent departed and found it as he had told them. As they were untying the colt, its owners asked them, "Why are you untying the colt?" They said, "The Lord needs it." Then they brought it to Jesus; and after throwing their cloaks on the colt, they set Jesus on it. As he rode along, people kept spreading their cloaks on the road. As he was now approaching the path down from the Mount of Olives, the whole multitude of the disciples began to praise God joyfully with a loud voice for all the deeds of power that they had seen, saying, "Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!" Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to him, "Teacher, order your disciples to stop.” He answered, "I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out.”"

Luke 19:28-40

Pastor Marc's sermon on Palm Sunday (April 14, 2019) on Luke 19:28-40. Listen to the recording here or read my manuscript below. 

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Did you notice, while standing in the narthex, that our reading from the gospel according to Luke doesn’t mention palm branches at all? Now, if you’re a regular attendee of Palm Sunday, you sort of expect having a palm branch given to you along with a worship bulletin. But if this is your first Palm Sunday or if Luke’s version of Jesus’ entrance into Jerusalem is the only one you know, then our blessing of palms today might feel a little odd. Nothing in our gospel reading mentioned foliage or branches. Instead, Luke couldn’t stop talking about cloaks. Cloaks are one of those pieces of clothing that we don’t see often but they are making a comeback. They’re worn like a coat but they’re lose and they hang at our shoulders. Cloaks can be really fun, with a hood, pockets, and sometimes are brightly colored. And in Jesus’ day, if you could afford to own a coat, you really owned a cloak. These outer garments were the default clothing people wore as they wandered around Jerusalem’s marketplace. They were everywhere and they became, for Luke, the primary item people used to show just how important Jesus was. Cloaks were used to create a saddle for Jesus and people threw them onto the road to welcome Jesus as he passed. If we treated our coats and out jackets today like we do our palms, we could insist that the blessing of the palms really should be a blessing of our jackets. And instead of waving our palms branches above our heads as we entered the sanctuary, we could have swung our jackets wildly and with abandon. Or, if we were looking for something a little bit more authentic, we could throw our jackets onto the floor and let everyone walk on them. Both of these kinds of garment traditions might make us a bit uncomfortable as we worry about being smacked in the face by a faithfully swung leather jacket or upset that our favorite hoodie might have tons of people stepping on it. None of these are, of course, things I’m going to ask you to do. But when we spend time with those words and phrases of today’s gospel that, for us, seem to be a bit different, a bit unique, and even a little bit off, we discover our odd-ball piece of Jesus’ story that God wants each of us to make as our own.

Because when we notice our odd-ball piece of scripture, there’s a good chance the people around us don’t see that verse in the same exact way. They might be able to see why it’s a bit off. But that word from God doesn’t necessarily speak to them in the same way it speaks to you. They don’t find themselves struggling with it. They’re not super interested in asking questions about it. They can move on to the very next sentence in their Bible reading while we just can’t. And when that’s happened, we’ve discovered a word or a phrase or an entire biblical story that God wants us to chew on. God wants us to ask questions, to do research, and to spend time trying to figure out why we can’t get this odd-ball piece of Scripture out of hearts and minds. Sometimes, this process of questioning, of spending time with the story, can take years or even a lifetime as the intensity of the words fade in and out of our lives. And overtime, the odd-ball bits of Scripture sort of morph into an odd-ball moment of awe, as we ponder everything we can about it. The more we sit with it, the more we notice, and the more we keep our odd-ball pieces of scripture close to us, we one day notice how that part of God’s story has suddenly become part or ours. The texts we encounter in the Bible are not meant to be read Sunday morning and then forgotten during brunch. They are, instead, meant to linger within us - giving us an opportunity to experience what it’s like to live with God’s Word. Our living with the text doesn’t always mean we’ll know exactly what it means. And it doesn’t mean that our reasons for sitting with it will always remain the same. When we end up living with part of God’s story, there’s a good chance we couldn’t share with those around us exactly why this one piece of Scripture speaks so deeply to us. Yet when we let our odd-ball texts of Scripture sit in our hearts and hang out in minds, we end up integrating God’s word into our own.

I can’t personally imagine being so caught up in a parade that it feels completely right to toss my favorite jacket onto the road so that someone else could walk on it. And I’m pretty sure, if I knew that was expected of me, I would leave my beloved red Ocean City hoodie or my fake leather jacket at home and replace them with something hanging right outside my office on the clothing racks for our Trash and Treasure rummage sale. Now, I know what Jesus was doing as he entered the city of Jerusalem. His followers were busy creating a scrappy, unsophisticated, and small version of a Roman military parade that was used to welcome victorious generals and emperors into the cities they came to visit. In fact, it’s possible that when Jesus entered Jerusalem, Pontius Pilate and his legion of Roman soldiers were being welcome and celebrated in the exact same way on the other side of town. Only one of those parades was revealing God’s truth while the other was celebrating the image of truth, power, strength, and victory as we always imagine it to be. Yet even the disciples were unaware of what Jesus was about to do. Even though I know what happens next in Jesus’ story, I’m still left wondering what it would take for me to take off my jacket and place it on the ground as a way to welcome Jesus’ divine gift of love that truly knows no bound. That’s one of my personal reasons why the story of Jesus’ procession into Jerusalem is something I still chew on. It’s a story that asks me to reflect on the love I already know; to examine the love I’ve already received; to recognize the gift that I’ve already been given because I’ve encountered Jesus and I know Jesus knows me. Yet, when Jesus shows up - whether in the face of a stranger, of the oppressed, of those who are hurting, those who are afraid, or those who have no home or no home to return to - what will I do when I find myself caught up in the parade Jesus is already marching in?

When you find a piece of scripture that’s a bit odd, a bit off, and one that makes you want to gnaw on it - just chew. Because that’s a sign that you’ve already stepped into Jesus’ story - and God has already started the process of making His story your own.

Amen.

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The Bible wasn't written in chronological order. No one person sat down, unrolled a blank scroll, and started writing with Genesis 1:1. It took centuries to pull together the Bible. Most books were written at different times and in different places, by different people. We don't know much about the process that made the Bible happen but there's a general sense that editors pulled together different stories and written texts to form the Bible God wanted us to have. The editors, prayerfully and faithfully, used the words God gave them to show God's love to a lot of different communities. Scholars have tried to find the earliest pieces of the Bible; those texts that might preserve the first draft of the stories as they were first told. Some of the stories are ancient, meant to be spoken around campfires instead of being read from a book. Not everyone agrees about which piece of Scripture came first. Yet it's possible that the pieces of the Bible that are the oldest are all songs. From Miriam's song in the Exodus, Deborah's in Judges, and maybe even some of the Psalms - the earliest pieces of scripture are not sentences and paragraphs. Rather, the first words that spoke to God's people were poetry and songs. When we encounter God, it seems our first response is to just sing.

Today's letter from Paul to the Philippians 2:5-11 contains one of the oldest pieces of Christian scripture we have. Paul is quoting a hymn, one possibly already being sung by Christian communities before he began his missionary work. In a sense, this might be the earliest Christian writing we have, beyond the sayings of Jesus recorded in the gospels. When the small communities first gathered in dining rooms while sharing a meal, they did more than talk about God: they sung about God, too. And this hymn, one of the first hymns in our Christian hymn book, is centered on Jesus doing an almost impossible thing: Jesus chose to be one of us. It might not shock you to hear a pastor say Jesus was human (and also fully divine). As Christians, we've said this for centuries. But if we take that statement seriously, do we realize just how shocking that is? How many times, in your life, have you tried to not be human? How much energy have we spent not being ourselves? How often do we try to forget, ignore, or push aside the situations, experiences, and emotions that take away from our life? If you knew all the junk that comes with being a human being - the pain, suffering, rejection, sadness, and harm we cause ourselves and each other - would you choose to be one of us? And would you do that even if you didn't have to?

As we enter this Holy Week, we will spend time meditating on Jesus' death. But we can also use this week to think about Jesus' choice. Jesus gave up what he was entitled to so that he could love you. Jesus emptied himself of divinity because God's love demanded nothing less. This is a week where we remember not only who Jesus is and what Jesus did. We also remember how Jesus made a choice - and how everything changed.

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