God brings a new creation: 23rd after Pentecost C

Today, I preached at Trinity las Americas United Methodist Church (TLA).  My sermon was rooted in my queerying the text this week.

This Sunday is the Sunday before the 20th annual Trans Day of Remembrance, so that was a big part of my sermon.  Below is the manuscript.  Because TLA is multicultural and worships bilingually, the sermon also is bilingual. 

I'm doing my best to include the manuscript more or less as it was preached.  The italicized is English and bold is Spanish.

Isaiah 65:17-25
17 For I am about to create new heavens
    and a new earth;
the former things shall not be remembered
    or come to mind.
18 But be glad and rejoice forever
    in what I am creating;
for I am about to create Jerusalem as a joy,
    and its people as a delight.
19 I will rejoice in Jerusalem,
    and delight in my people;
no more shall the sound of weeping be heard in it,
    or the cry of distress.
20 No more shall there be in it
    an infant that lives but a few days,
    or an old person who does not live out a lifetime;
for one who dies at a hundred years will be considered a youth,
    and one who falls short of a hundred will be considered accursed.
21 They shall build houses and inhabit them;
    they shall plant vineyards and eat their fruit.
22 They shall not build and another inhabit;
    they shall not plant and another eat;
for like the days of a tree shall the days of my people be,
    and my chosen shall long enjoy the work of their hands.
23 They shall not labor in vain,
    or bear children for calamity;[a]
for they shall be offspring blessed by the Lord—
    and their descendants as well.
24 Before they call I will answer,
    while they are yet speaking I will hear.
25 The wolf and the lamb shall feed together,
    the lion shall eat straw like the ox;
    but the serpent—its food shall be dust!
They shall not hurt or destroy
    on all my holy mountain,
says the Lord.

-----

Isaías 65:17-25
17 »Miren, yo voy a crear
un cielo nuevo y una tierra nueva.
Lo pasado quedará olvidado,
nadie se volverá a acordar de ello.
18 Llénense de gozo y alegría para siempre
por lo que voy a crear,
porque voy a crear una Jerusalén feliz
y un pueblo contento que viva en ella.
19 Yo mismo me alegraré por Jerusalén
y sentiré gozo por mi pueblo.
En ella no se volverá a oír llanto
ni gritos de angustia.
20 Allí no habrá niños que mueran a los pocos días,
ni ancianos que no completen su vida.
Morir a los cien años será morir joven,
y no llegar a los cien años será una maldición.
21 La gente construirá casas y vivirá en ellas,
sembrará viñedos y comerá sus uvas.
22 No sucederá que uno construya y otro viva allí,
o que uno siembre y otro se aproveche.
Mi pueblo tendrá una vida larga, como la de un árbol;
mis elegidos disfrutarán del trabajo de sus manos.
23 No trabajarán en vano
ni tendrán hijos que mueran antes de tiempo,
porque ellos son descendientes
de los que el Señor ha bendecido,
y lo mismo serán sus descendientes.
24 Antes que ellos me llamen,
yo les responderé;
antes que terminen de hablar,
yo los escucharé.
25 El lobo y el cordero comerán juntos,
el león comerá pasto, como el buey,
y la serpiente se alimentará de tierra.
En todo mi monte santo
no habrá quien haga ningún daño.»
El Señor lo ha dicho.

-----

This Wednesday is Trans Day of Remembrance, or TDOR. Every year on November 20, we gather and read all the names that we know of the transgender people who have died in the last year. Although the list can often include some of those who died by suicide, the majority of trans people who died were intentionally killed. This year we know of 369 trans people who died. 36 of them have been killed or died here in the United States. One trans woman died in prison on Riker's Island, New York, and another was in ICE custody. The vast majority of those killed in the united states are Black trans women. 


El miércoles que viene es el día internacional de la memoria trans.  Cada año el 20 de noviembre, nos reunimos y leemos todos los nombres que conocemos de las personas transgénero que se murió en el año pasado.  Aunque muchas veces incluye algunas de las personas que se murieron por medio del suicidio, la mayoría de personas trans que se murieron es matada.  Este año sabemos de 369 personas trans que se murieron. 36 de estas personas han sido asesinadas o se han muerto aquí en los estados unidos.  Una mujer trans se murió en la cárcel en Riker’s Island, Nueva York, y otra fue en la custodia de la migra.  La mayoría en los ee uu es mujeres descendientes de Africa.

Cada noviembre leemos cientos de nombres y sentimos como si fuera inevitable hacerlo cada año.  Es como pensaron el pueblo de Israel en la lectura de hoy.  La gente está regresando del exilio y no sabe como encontrará la vida nueva.  Piensa en el exilio como si fuera inevitable otra vez.


Every November we read hundreds of names and it feels like the next Trans Day of Remembrance is inevitable, much as the people of Israel thought in today's reading.  They are a people returning from exile with no idea how they will find a new life—or if there even is life after exile.



It was easy for them to resign themselves to an exiled life forever, and it is easy for us now to think that violence against trans people will always exist — that racism, sexism, and transphobia will never end, but our God says otherwise. God says, “For I am about to create new heavens and a new earth; the former things shall not be remembered or come to mind.” And God continues with this new vision, saying, “No more shall there be in it an infant that lives but a few days, or an old person who does not live out a lifetime; for one who dies at a hundred years will be considered a youth, and one who falls short of a hundred will be considered accursed. They shall build houses and inhabit them; they shall plant vineyards and eat their fruit.” 


Era fácil para la gente regresando del exilio y es fácil para nosotrxs pensar que la violencia contra personas trans siempre estará—que el racismo, el sexismo, y la transfobia siempre existirán, pero nuestro Dios dice que no.  Dios dice, “Miren, yo voy a crear un cielo nuevo y una tierra nueva. Lo pasado quedará olvidado, nadie se volverá a acordar de ello.”  Y sigue con una vista de vida, diciendo, “Allí no habrá niños que mueran a los pocos días, ni ancianos que no completen su vida. Morir a los cien años será morir joven, y no llegar a los cien años será una maldición. La gente construirá casas y vivirá en ellas, sembrará viñedos y comerá sus uvas.” 

Dios tiene otro plan para nosotrxs y para el mundo entero.


God has another plan for us and for the whole world.



It is not an easy plan to achieve — it never is. It requires major changes in how we function as human beings and in our cultures. God’s vision that “the wolf and the lamb shall feed together, the lion shall eat straw like the ox;” requires changes on the part of the wolf and the lion.  It’s not possible for the wolf and the lamb to eat together if the wolf is eating the lamb.


No es fácil alcanzarlo—nunca es fácil seguir a Dios.  Requiere grandes cambios en como funcionamos como seres humanos y como culturas.  El plan de Dios, que “El lobo y el cordero comerán juntos, el león comerá pasto, como el buey” requiere un cambio fundamental por parte del lobo y del león.  No es posible que el lobo y el cordero coman juntos si el lobo esta comiendo el cordero. 

Para crear un mundo donde toda la gente puede vivir sin miedo, la gente con poder—la gente que han abusado su poder, que han hecho más difícil la vida para la gente marginalizada—los lobos, no pueden tener tanta poder—no pueden comer a los corderos.  El poder que tienen sobre otras personas es poder sin amor y poder injusto.  Hay que enfrentarse con las consecuencias de sus acciones.  La cultura necesita cambiar para que los lobos no puedan hacer daño a otras personas.


To create a world where all people can live without fear, people with power — people who have abused their power, who have made life harder instead of easier for marginalized people — the wolves and lions, cannot have all that power. The power they have over other people is power without love—it is unjust power. The wolves must face the consequences of their actions. Culture needs to change so that they cannot harm other people.



And we, here, can be part of the change that God makes. We have power. We especially have power together as this community of faith. But also, every person here — some more than others, but each person — has power.  We can honor each person, protect the most vulnerable people, share power, and limit the damage done.


Y nosotrxs aquí somos parte del cambio que hace Dios. Tenemos poder.  Especialmente tenemos poder juntos como comunidad de fe.  Pero también cada persona aquí—algunas más que otras, pero cada persona—tiene poder.  Somos capaces de honrar a cada persona, de dar protección a la gente más vulnerable, a compartir el poder y limitar el daño hecho. 

Tenemos el poder de corregir unos a otros cuando decimos los pronombres incorrectos, cuando alguien habla de “esas personas.”  Nuestras acciones solo son una parte, pero son una parte importante, especialmente ahora que el gobierno no funciona bien.  Lo que podemos hacer, tiene que ver con nuestres amigues, nuestras comunidades.


We have the power to correct each other when we say the wrong pronouns, when someone talks about “those people.” Our actions are only one part, but they are an important part, especially when the government feels so hopeless. What we can do has to do with our friends and our communities.

Pastor Alejandro has asked about great, great, grandmothers.  I will ask about friends and friends of friends.  Can we talk to our friends about racism, sexism, and transphobia?  Can we speak up about these things when we´re in a group and don´t know everyone in the group?  When trans people aren’t present?  When it is just white folks?  How can we influence our neighbors for the good?


Pastor Alejandro preguntó de las tatarabuelas.  Yo pregunto de les amigues de les amigues.  ¿Podemos hablar con nuestres amigues sobre el racismo, el sexismo, y la transfobia?  ¿Podemos decir algo, cuando estamos en un grupo y no conocemos a cada persona en el grupo?  ¿Cuando personas trans no estén presentes? ¿Cómo podemos influir a nuestras projimas?

Dios está creando un mundo nuevo, está llamándonos, ¿seguimos a Dios? ¿Creemos en la posibilidad de otro tipo de mundo?  Podemos hacerlo juntxs.


God is creating a new world, God is calling us.  Do we follow God?  Do we put our faith in the possibility of a different kind of world?  We can do it together.

Amén.

God fulfills Their promises: advent 1 year c

Sunday I preached again at Capitol Hill Lutheran Church for the first Sunday of Advent.  The day before, Capitol Hill had hosted the ordination of Pastor Nat Bothwell, whose spouse, Pastor Minna Bothwell, serves as pastor of Capitol Hill.  I drew on River Needham's queery of Jeremiah as well as my queery of Luke for this sermon.

I explored the meaning of Advent as well as the places of distress, fear, and foreboding in our lives and country, challenged by God who fulfills Their promises and the ways God's Word is powerful as well as the glimpses we get, like snowflakes on a dull, gray winter day or stars only visible in the dark of night.

This is the image I preached from at both worship services.

I notice the connections between the queeries and the final sermon, but if you're curious or have any other comments or questions, let me know!

advent 1 year b

This series has now moved over to my other blog: https://christianityisaqueerthing.blogspot.com/

Mark 13:24-37

²⁴“But in those days, 
     after that suffering,
          the sun will be darkened,
          and the moon will not give its light,
          ²⁵and the stars will be falling from heaven,
          and the powers in the heavens will be shaken. 
     ²⁶Then they will see ‘the Human One coming in clouds’ 
          with great power and glory. 
     ²⁷Then the One will send out the angels, 
          and gather the elect from the four winds, 
               from the ends of the earth to the ends of heaven.

²⁸“From the fig tree learn its lesson: 
     as soon as its branch becomes tender and puts forth its leaves, 
          you know that summer is near. 
     ²⁹So also, when you see these things taking place, 
          you know that the One is near, 
               at the very gates. 
     ³⁰Truly I tell you, 
          this generation will not pass away 
               until all these things have taken place. 
          ³¹Heaven and earth will pass away, 
               but my words will not pass away.

³²“But about that day or hour no one knows, 
     neither the angels in heaven, 
     nor the Child, 
          but only the Parent. 
³³Beware, keep alert; 
     for you do not know when the time will come. 
³⁴It is like a person going on a journey, 
     when they leave home 
     and put their slaves in charge, 
          each with their work, 
     and command the doorkeeper to be on the watch. 
          ³⁵Therefore, keep awake—
               for you do not know when the master of the house will come, 
                    in the evening, 
                    or at midnight, 
                    or at cockcrow, 
                    or at dawn, 
                         ³⁶or else the master may find you asleep 
                              when they come suddenly. 
               ³⁷And what I say to you I say to all: 
                    Keep awake.”

Queeries for the text:
Is darkness a trait of the Human One?  And of great power and glory?
Is darkness good?
Is tenderness a sign of the coming of the Human One?
Will the Human One be undocumented?
Who is the master?
Is being exhausted but awake better than being woken up in the middle of sleep?
Does this poetry speak deep into anyone else's soul?
What does it mean to "pass away"?
Do the elect from the four winds come from the four directions?

God messes with our binaries: 23rd after pentecost a

The other reading I reference is 1 Corinthians 1:18-31.

El santo evangelio según San Mateo (25:1-13)

[Jesus said to the disciples:]

¹“Then the dominion of heaven will be likened to this:

      Ten bridesmaids took their lamps

      and went to meet the bridegroom.

            ²Five of them were foolish,

            and five were wise.

                  ³When the foolish took their lamps,

                        they took no oil with them;

                              ⁴but the wise took flasks of oil with their lamps.

            ⁵As the bridegroom was delayed,

                  all of them became drowsy and slept.

                        ⁶But at midnight there was a shout,

                              ‘Look! Here is the bridegroom!

                              Come out to meet him.’

                  ⁷Then all those bridesmaids got up

                  and trimmed their lamps.

                        ⁸The foolish said to the wise,

                              ‘Give us some of your oil,

                                    for our lamps are going out.’

                        ⁹But the wise replied,

                              ‘No! there will not be enough for you and for us;

                                    you had better go to the dealers

                                    and buy some for yourselves.’

                  ¹⁰And while they went to buy it,

                        the bridegroom came,

                        and those who were ready went with him into the wedding banquet;

                        and the door was shut.

                              ¹¹Later the other bridesmaids came also, saying,

                                    ‘Lord, lord, open to us.’

                              ¹²But he replied,

                                    ‘Truly I tell you, I do not know you.’

                                          ¹³Keep awake therefore,

                                                for you know neither the day nor the hour.”

El evangelio del Señor.

-----

As I was rereading the gospel throughout this week, 1 Corinthians 1 kept popping into my head.  What does it mean for us to call some bridesmaids wise and others foolish when God messes with our understandings of what is wise and what is foolish?

Is it wise to hoard the oil?  Is it foolish to not bring extra just in case?  Is it wise or foolish to leave to buy more?  To leave the lamps lit while they wait?  To show up late to your own wedding celebration?  To arrive so much earlier than the bridegroom?  To go inside and lock people out?  To pretend not to know someone?

Paul writes, “But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong.”

God comes to mess with the good/bad binaries that we create.

We are so disposed to sorting the world into categories, especially binaries.  Good or bad, dark or light, women or men.  But the reality is that, as Sirius tells Harry Potter in the Order of the Phoenix, “The world is not split into good people and death eaters.”  It’s just not that simple.

Throughout the bible and throughout our lives of faith, God calls us deeper into the complexities of the world.  As our faith deepens and we come to understand that "when we recognize that noteverything is black and white, the next step is recognizing that it's not justshades of gray either, but instead that life is a rainbow of shades,highlights, colors, and tones."

The binaries we create do not serve God.  Instead they limit our understanding of God and the world around us.  If everyone has to be either wise or foolish, then what about those who are funny or sad or joyful?

Perhaps today’s parable is really about being prepared or receiving permission not to share, but as likely as not, it’s about wondering how else the story could play out.

What secret option c’s are out there that dance between and beyond the categories of wise and foolish?

Today is an easy day for us to find ourselves in the midst of binaries—good-byes and not hellos, endings, and yet beginnings.  Yesterday was Veteran’s Day and who better knows the value of peace, the danger and pain of war, and the ways it is not nearly that simple than veterans?  We’re even approaching the end of the church year and preparing for Advent, which itself breaks the binary as we live in the space of yearning for God’s reign on earth even as it has already begun in Jesus’ death and resurrection.

This Sunday is my last Sunday with you all and as we say good-bye, we are ending this pastoral relationship that we’ve had.  I won’t keep in touch, so that as you discern your leadership and pastoral needs, you can more fully embrace whoever comes to serve as pastoral leadership.  This is very much an ending.  

But it is also a beginning.  It’s a beginning for me as I move to Des Moines and it’s a beginning for you all as you begin to identify essentials for your community of faith—what is at the heart of your mission and ministry, the heart of your worship.

But even that is work we have already been doing together.  It is the ongoing work that we are always doing as people of faith in an ever-changing world.

You as a community embody a resistance to the binaries we humans like to create.  You are both ELCA and PCUSA in your worship together.  You have a building and yet next Sunday you will worship in a different building and for Thanksgiving you will worship in yet another building.  You care for each other and you also care for the community and the world.

The way you all engage in ministry is creative and visionary.  Investing your time and energy in relationships resists either being patronizing charity givers who keep others at an arms’ length or ignoring those who are different from you.

You are loved by God and you extend that love outward to care about this community and to care about this world instead of holding it in and keeping it just within yourselves.  You are witnesses to God’s transforming love and grace in your commitment to even what is not always popular or comfortable.  You are capable of wrestling with the hard questions of faith.

You wrestle with immigration policies that don’t honor the holiness of humans who immigrate to this country.  You can wrestle with what it means when thoughts and prayers aren’t stopping gun violence.  You can wrestle with what it means to live beyond and between the gender binary.  You wrestle with racism and white privilege and your place in it all.

You have enormous capacity as a community of faith to dwell in the in between.  You can question the text without losing your faith.  To ask if Jesus might not be the bridegroom, but instead a foolish bridesmaid, locked out of our religious celebrations.  You can ask what would have happened if the foolish bridesmaids didn’t leave or if the wise ones insisted on waiting just a little while longer until they returned before they went inside.

You, dear people of God, are vital to the body of Christ throughout the world.  The ministry God does through you in and with this community is vibrant and in whatever form it may take in the coming months and years, I trust that God will continue to work through you.

And even at this ending, I will continue to carry you in my heart.

Thanks be to God.

YAGM Wilderness

This is the manuscript that I preached from for the opening worship at this year's YAGM Re-Entry Retreat.

A reading from Mark (1:9-13).

⁹In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee

      and was baptized by John in the Jordan.

      ¹⁰And just as Jesus was coming up out of the water,

            he saw the heavens torn apart

            and the Spirit descending like a dove on him.

      ¹¹And a voice came from heaven,

            “You are my Child,

                  the Beloved;

                        with you I am well pleased.”

      ¹²And the Spirit immediately drove Jesus out into the wilderness.

            ¹³He was in the wilderness forty days,

                  tempted by Satan;

            and he was with the wild beasts;

            and the angels waited on him.

Word of God, Word of Life.  Thanks be to God.

-----

I grew up in the mountains of Colorado, so I have always loved the Bible passages about the wilderness.  It’s easy to imagine the wilderness, because it was my back yard growing up.  And it’s beautiful and fun—the snow, the aspen leaves in fall, the bluest of blue skies.  I have always had a fondness for the wilderness.

Then, as I was getting ready to graduate from Luther College, I came here for DIP.  From there, I ended up in a different kind of wilderness in a small village in eastern Slovakia.  Sure, there are hills and even a few mountains in Slovakia, and I got to go hiking and enjoy nature, but this was a different kind of wilderness.

Like the wilderness we find throughout the Bible, this wilderness wasn’t familiar to me and it wasn’t always friendly.  You all have spent a year in the wilderness.  And in that year, a lot has changed.  You have changed.  The people who sent you have changed.  The people you encountered have changed.  This country has changed.  That’s what wilderness does.  It changes you.

Whether you’ve heard the distant rumbles of the heavens being torn apart or encountered wild beasts, doves, or angels—or maybe all of them at once.  You spent a year away from your family, your friends, your loved ones, and that is hard.  I can’t help but think of the words from the song, The Summons, “Will you go where you don’t know and never be the same?”        

You did.  And you probably will again.  And it will still be hard.               It is hard to be different and an outsider.  I still remember those first months in Slovakia, hearing sermons and Bible studies in which I could only pick out a few of the words.  And the sinking feeling I would get in my stomach every time the word I understood was Sodom or Gomorrah, knowing that there was a part of me as a queer person that would never belong.

Maybe for you it was a racist remark, or the violence you witnessed in words or actions, the access your u.s. passport granted you at checkpoints, the parts of the language that always eluded you, or the customs that never quite got explained so that you could understand and participate.

The wilderness doesn’t always make sense, and sometimes it hurts; but the other thing about the wilderness is that that’s where Jesus goes.  Jesus is baptized by John in the Jordan, the heavens are torn apart, God claims Jesus as beloved, and then “the Spirit immediately [drives] Jesus out into the wilderness,” to you.

Because that is what YAGM is about: Jesus finding you—in the hug of your host mom on that extra homesick kind of day, in the kids who are excited about how well they did on the test—or who continue to push your buttons until the day you leave; in the struggles to understand yourself and others, in the quiet moments of just being with another person, drinking mate, talking, singing, laughing, and crying.

We as the church have sent you out into the wilderness and called you back to a new kind of wilderness in this country.  This wilderness is both familiar and foreign, full of love and full of fear and hatred.  The struggles against injustice, the pain of oppression, sorrow, and hardship are not reserved for other countries. They are here, too, as are countless options for which spaghetti sauce or laundry detergent to buy, new and different ways to ride the bus—no longer the crammed rush hour buses of Buenos Aires or the long winding country roads. 

But what may be the hardest about this new wilderness we’ve called you back to is that it seems so much like the land and places and people you called home before; like a place you should know.  Shouldn’t you understand what to do, who and how to be here?  And shouldn’t they understand you?   

But the people, the places, the politics here        have all changed in subtle and obvious ways,                  as have you, so that the ways you seek familiarity and comfort aren’t the same.  The people you are encountering again might not understand why you like different foods, why you need more time to talk or more time to be silent, but together, than you did before. It's wild, this new wilderness.

Your YAGM year may have ended, but this journey in the wilderness has not, and maybe it never will.  Maybe, as you continue to leave your heart in different places, you will always find a wilderness around you—of joyful mountains and snow, of desert and scorching heat, of safety and of danger.  We don’t know.  You can’t know until you get there.

But the promise I have, the promise of God for you, is that Jesus will show up.  In the suffering and struggle as well as the comfort and joy.  Jesus will show up because that’s how the Holy Spirit works—in the most unexpected places and ways—driving Jesus out into the wilderness to meet you.

The Holy Spirit has claimed you.  The voice from heaven claims Jesus and she claims you as well.

You are God’s child, the Beloved, with whom God is well pleased.  And there is no amount of wilderness or struggle or pain or screw up that can make that untrue.  There is no loneliness, isolation, alienation, or oppression that diminishes God’s immense love for you.  And, especially in these days that we have together, there is no questioning, frustration, random burst of laughter or tears, or befuddlement that is more powerful than God’s love for you.  No matter what.

Thanks be to God.

God's authority is given in baptism: 17th after pentecost a

A reading from Philippians (2:1-13).

¹If then there is any encouragement in Christ, any consolation from love, any sharing in the Spirit, any compassion and sympathy, ²make my joy complete: be of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind. ³Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves. ⁴Let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others. ⁵Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus,
 ⁶who, though he was in the form of God,
  did not regard equality with God
  as something to be exploited,
 ⁷but emptied himself,
  taking the form of a slave,
  being born in human likeness.
 And being found in human form,
  ⁸he humbled himself
  and became obedient to the point of death—
  even death on a cross.

 ⁹Therefore God also highly exalted him
  and gave him the name
  that is above every name,
 ¹⁰so that at the name of Jesus
  every knee should bend,
  in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
 ¹¹and every tongue should confess
  that Jesus Christ is Lord,
  to the glory of God the Father.

  ¹²Therefore, my beloved, just as you have always obeyed me, not only in my presence, but much more now in my absence, work out your own salvation with fear and trembling; ¹³for it is God who is at work in you, enabling you both to will and to work for his good pleasure.

Word of God, Word of Life.

The other reading I reference is Matthew 21:23-32. 

-----

In the summer of 1523, with the debates and battles of the Reformation in full swing, the faculty of the University of Ingolstadt received a letter challenging their action in forcing a student to recant his support of the Reformation.

What is perhaps most stunning is that Argula von Grumbach, the author of the letter, was the only one speaking out against this injustice and as a woman whose husband was Catholic, the odds were stacked against her.  But von Grumbach had studied the bible and knew about the priesthood of all believers.   

She knew that, as we hear in Philippians, Jesus’ authority comes from God, and she knew that she was entitled to share in that authority.  She embraced the spirit of the Reformation and used her authority and call as a baptized child of God to speak out against injustice.  Truly, we could say to her, “it is God who is at work in you, enabling you both to will and to work for God’s good pleasure.”  God was indeed working through her.

Looking back, it’s clear to us, but it can be harder to recognize God at work in the moment, to acknowledge that God is up to something in us.  That’s partly why we have extended processes for ordination in both the PCUSA and the ELCA.  Recognizing God’s call in us is important, and we also work together as communities of faith to recognize God’s call in each other.

Sometimes the call is to leadership in the community or congregation and sometimes it is to ordination, as was the case when you all recognized and affirmed gifts for ordained ministry in Leah and Carina.

In 1832 the New York Synod recognized that God was calling Jehu Jones to ordained ministry.  Born to enslaved parents who were freed when he was 12, Jones joined a Lutheran congregation in Charleston, South Carolina, which encouraged him to pursue ordained ministry in the North.  Jones became what we would call a mission developer in Philadelphia, founding multiple congregations throughout his ministry.

Jones knew with a greater depth than we could know what it means that Jesus “emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness.”  Jones’ ministry was founded on the authority of God and even as he faced a lack of financial support for his ministries and mission as one aspect of racism in both the culture and the church, he persevered in what God was calling him to do.

The Lutheran Church recognized and affirmed God’s authority at work in Jehu Jones and called him into difficult ministry and Jones persevered through it all.

Then fast forward to 1990 when the predecessor organizations to Extraordinary Lutheran Ministries ordained first Jeff Johnson, Ruth Frost, and Phyllis Zillhart and then in the years leading up to the ELCA’s 2009 policy change they ordained another 15 people who had been banned from ordination in the ELCA due to sexual orientation and/or gender identity.  When these “extraordinary ordinations” took place, it was clear to those working toward policy change that eventually the ELCA would change its policy, and so people talked about borrowing their authority from the future.

They knew God was at work in them, and they knew that “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice," so, in the spirit of the Reformation, they did what was simultaneously controversial and faithful.  They “look[ed] to the interests of others” who would follow in their footsteps toward ordination.

Although this month we will celebrate the 500^th anniversary of the beginning of the Protestant Reformation, the Reformation didn’t happen in the 1500s and then stop.  It continues even today.  We continue to find new ways that the Holy Spirit is at work.

As in today’s gospel, we continue to hear people in positions of power question the authority of others to do the work of God, but Jesus still responds, pointing to the work of ordinary people like John the Baptist, Argula von Grumbach, Jehu Jones, Jeff Johnson, Ruth Frost, and Phyllis Zillhart, whose power and authority come by the Holy Spirit.

In Philippians, we hear the exhortation, “⁵Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, ⁶who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, ⁷but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness.  And being found in human form, ⁸he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death—even death on a cross.

“⁹Therefore God also highly exalted him and gave him the name that is above every name, ¹⁰so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, ¹¹and every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.”

Who else has heard this exhortation?  Who else proclaims this Good News?  Are there others today who humble themselves—perhaps in controversial ways—to look to others’ interests?

We don’t need to be powerful in this world to make a difference.  God empowers each of us.  Argula von Grumbach made a big difference without much power.  Jehu Jones’ persistence testified to God’s authority at work in him who was born into slavery.  Without those first 3 or 18 extraordinary ordinations, there wouldn’t be 274 publicly identified lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer members in Proclaim.

Jesus’ controversial claims, like the one in today’s gospel, are part of following Jesus.  They’re intended to make us and others think.  So as we wonder about Jesus’ controversies we can also wonder: when Colin Kaepernick takes a knee, who is it for?  When the president tweets, when a protest is held, when something happens that rubs us the wrong way or makes us feel defensive, what is the real issue and how does it impact the most vulnerable?

Protests and controversies aren’t intended to make us comfortable, but they make us wonder with the crowd around Jesus: whose authority is most important?  How is God at work?  What would Jesus have to say about helping hurricane recovery in Puerto Rico, about the importance of the lives of Black people who face racism daily, about the immigrants in our community who face discrimination, and about those who will be banned from this country by the newest travel ban?

Jesus preaches and teaches with divine authority and as we follow him, he calls us to “look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others,” to bend our knee at the name of Jesus and in service to others, because that is God’s call for us in baptism.

Thanks be to God.

Who do you say Jesus is? 11th after pentecost a

The holy gospel according to Matthew (16:13-23)

¹³Now when Jesus came into the district of Caesarea Philippi,

       he asked his disciples,

              “Who do people say that the Son of Humanity is?”

¹⁴And they said,

       “Some say John the Baptist,

              but others Elijah,

                     and still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.”

¹⁵Jesus said to them,

       “But who do you say that I am?”

¹⁶Simon Peter answered,

       “You are the Messiah,

              the Son of the living God.”

¹⁷And Jesus answered him,

       “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah!

              For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you,

                     but my Father in heaven.

       ¹⁸And I tell you,

              you are Peter,

                     and on this rock I will build my church,

                            and the gates of Hades will not prevail against it.

                     ¹⁹I will give you the keys of the dominion of heaven,

                            and whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven,

                            and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.”

       ²⁰Then Jesus sternly ordered the disciples not to tell anyone

              that he was the Messiah.

²¹From that time on,

       Jesus began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem

              and undergo great suffering

                     at the hands of the religious authorities,

              and be killed,

              and on the third day be raised.

²²And Peter took Jesus aside and began to rebuke him, saying,

       “God forbid it, Lord!

              This must never happen to you.”

²³But Jesus turned and said to Peter,

       “Get behind me, Satan!

              You are a stumbling block to me;

                     for you are setting your mind not on divine things

                            but on human things.”

The gospel of the Lord.

-----

Who do you say that Jesus is?   

Peter has his answer and jumps right in with it: “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God,” and Jesus totally affirms Peter: Right on! “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah! For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father in heaven.”  But then, a mere 5 verses later, as Jesus explains what it actually means to be the Messiah, Peter finds out that he is totally off-base.

Maybe that’s why Jesus “sternly order[s] the disciples not to tell anyone that he [is] the Messiah.”  Peter, and now the rest of the disciples with him, have a title, a name for Jesus: Messiah, Son of the Living God, but they haven’t yet gotten what that means.

For Peter and for many at that time, the Messiah was the one to come and lead the violent overthrow of the occupying Roman Empire.  The Messiah would be powerful, a revolutionary.  But that is not quite who Jesus is.

At this point in the gospel of Matthew, we are just over halfway through and Jesus is shifting his focus to Jerusalem.  After Peter’s bold proclamation, Jesus is starting to explain what it actually means to be “the Messiah, the Son of the living God.”

Jesus shows and tells the disciples that as the Messiah, “he must go to Jerusalem and undergo great suffering at the hands of the religious authorities, and be killed, and on the third day be raised.”  This Messiah is one who is with humanity in the pain and in the struggle.  Jesus is the Messiah who will confront injustice, but not the way Peter wants.  Instead of violently attacking and overthrowing, Jesus responds to the violence and oppression of his people by taking it all onto himself.  Jesus takes the pain and suffering of the whole world into his own self on the cross.

And as he begins to show this truth to the disciples, Peter gets spooked. 

This isn’t what Peter had in mind and so, in typical Peter fashion, he quickly speaks out to rebuke Jesus, saying, “God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you.”  Peter doesn’t want Jesus to die, but in our violent world, we respond to the ultimate Love with violence and so it will be for Jesus.

Peter rebukes Jesus and Jesus rebukes Peter right back.  The rock gets caught up in himself and becomes a stumbling block.  His assumptions about who Jesus is help and then hinder his ability to follow Jesus.

But Messiah is not the only name we call Jesus.

There is a poster on the back of the door to my childhood bedroom that lists most of the titles or names that we say Jesus is.  The Bread of Life, the Son of Humanity, the Christ, the Vine, the Living Water, the Good Shepherd, our Brother, Lord and Master.  Each of these points us to different aspects of who Jesus is.

No one name or title can fully define or describe Jesus.  We need these different names to give us a bigger picture and a deeper understanding.  When we only call Jesus one thing, we can lose sight of Jesus’ connection to the whole world.

When we say Jesus is Middle Eastern, born in 1^st century Palestine, not only are we being historically accurate, but we are also naming that the Divine dwells in Arab and Indigenous bodies, tied to the land on which they have lived for millenia.  When we say Jesus is an immigrant and refugee without papers, who fled with his family to Egypt, we recognize that God does not abide by our borders and laws, but instead journeys with people in their struggles for a better or safer life.

When we say Jesus is the Good Shepherd, we name the care God has for every person, guiding and calling to each of us.  When we say Jesus is the Bread of Life, we recognize the many ways that Jesus feeds and nourishes us—through communion, through fellowship, and through the gifts of creation.

When we say Jesus is the Son of Humanity, we recognize his humanness—his commitment to being truly with us.  When we say Jesus is the Son of God, we recognize God’s immense love for us that God would come to be with us at the same time as we recognize her power in creating all that is—from the tiniest atom to the greatest galaxy.

Dylan Roof, who attacked and killed 9 members of Mother Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church, and other white supremacists, including those we read and heard about in Charlottesville, Boston, and San Francisco, say Jesus is white.  Because whiteness is the norm and the default for our culture, they also mean that people of color are worth less and that white people matter more—that the Divine cannot dwell in bodies of color, but only in white bodies. 

Too often we imagine Jesus and God as white, as the ones with power and privilege, yet that is not how God chose to come into this world.  God chose to come into the world as a baby born into poverty, with unwed parents, hunted by the government.  When we say Jesus is white, we are like Peter rebuking Jesus, because it is scary and unsettling to admit that Jesus might be different from us, that Jesus might choose to not be all-powerful, that Jesus might not be on our side, if we are not siding with the oppressed.

But when we say Jesus is Black, we recognize that God chose to come to those who are oppressed and marginalized, that God is about liberating all people from powers and systems that oppress.  When we say Jesus is Lord, we name that all authority is his and that the power of God and our commitment to following Jesus is greater than any ruler, president, or country.

Who we say Jesus is matters—it both reflects and informs how we understand God, ourselves, and each other.  Different names and titles for Jesus can stretch our understanding of God and our faith and challenge our assumptions not only about God, but also about others and the world around us.

We can and do say Jesus is many things and the diversity of our responses to Jesus’ question, “Who do you say that I am?” reflects God’s diverse image and makes us a fuller body of Christ, because Jesus is all of the things we say and is so much more than we could ever name.  And so as we expand the language we use for Jesus and for God, we also expand our capacity to love God’s people and to embrace the whole body of Christ.  

Thanks be to God.