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.

God welcomes. Do we? - 4th after pentecost

The first reading is Jeremiah 28:5-9.

The holy gospel according to Matthew (10:40-42).

Jesus said:

⁴⁰“Whoever welcomes you welcomes me,

      and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me.

      ⁴¹Whoever welcomes a prophet as a prophet

            will receive a prophet’s reward;

      and whoever welcomes a righteous person as a righteous person

            will receive the reward of the righteous;

      ⁴²and whoever gives even a cup of cold water

            to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple—

                  truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.”

The gospel of the Lord.

-----

As Jesus sends his disciples out, his message for those of us they might encounter along the way is clear: welcome them.  Don’t just tolerate, put up with, or quietly ignore them, but truly welcome them as we would welcome Jesus.  Welcome a prophet as a prophet—recognize their calling, what makes them unique, and even perhaps what they say that makes us uncomfortable.

Last week and this week, we’ve been encountering Jeremiah in our first reading and though I didn’t preach on him, he is a great example of a prophet in the sense that he embodies just about everything a prophet could possibly go through. 

Rev. Liddy Barlow, points out that as a prophet, Jeremiah preaches what people don’t want to hear, occasionally even the opposite of what might make sense at the time or in the short term, he has plenty of doubt and despair as we heard about last week, and his performance art—engaging in symbolic acts to convey the heart of God’s message—like breaking pottery and wearing literal yokes, can definitely make folks uncomfortable.

When Jesus says, “⁴¹Whoever welcomes a prophet as a prophet will receive a prophet’s reward,” he’s certainly familiar with Jeremiah and other prophets who, like his own disciples that he’s sending out, are likely to make their hosts a bit uncomfortable.  But Jesus’ concern is not with comfort.  It is with the vulnerable ones—the prophets willing to speak truth to power, even under threat of violence or death; the righteous—those committed to being in right relationship with God, their fellow humans, and all of creation; the little ones who need a refreshing drink of cool water; and all those who will know the Good News of God’s healing and love because of them.

With the events of the last week and July 4^th coming up, I can’t help but think of the Statue of Liberty and Jewish immigrant, Emma Lazarus’ poem at its base.  Though many of us are familiar with the second half of The New Colossus, the whole poem is striking              as it refers to the imposing Greek Colossus of Rhodes, pictured on the left.  The Colossus of Rhodes was the Greek titan-god of the sun, Helios, a symbol of power and military victory, which Lazarus then compares with the Statue of Liberty.

The Colossus of Rhodes

The Statue of Liberty

The poem reads:

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
MOTHER OF EXILES. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.

"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

Like Jesus in today’s gospel and the prophets and faithful throughout biblical and human history, the welcome of this poem, symbolized by the Statue of Liberty, isn’t a welcome for those who already fit in.  It isn’t a welcome to those willing to assimilate to the unassimilating culture that has become dominate in this country.  And it isn’t a welcome to those with the “right” belief, creed, politics, family, or connections.

The welcome of the Statue of Liberty, of Jesus, and of the prophets is a welcome to whoever is most in need of welcome, shelter, or refuge.  A cup of cold water sounds simple, but it can be the difference between life or death in the Sonoran Desert, provided at stations along the route of many immigrants to this country by organizations like Humane Borders and churches like la Iglesia Luterana San Lucas in Eagle Pass, Texas. 

Asylum-seekers, refugees, and immigrants come to this country for a million different reasons, and I wonder at the ways we do and do not welcome them.

This week, NPR’s The Takeaway reported about one of the three family detention centers in the united states where asylum-seekers are held until they are accepted as having a well-founded fear of future persecution or harm in their country of origin and then processed, which can take quite a while due to the current backlog.  The workers at the center refuse to drink the water provided to those being detained because it has been contaminated by nearby fracking and, although it is legally required in order to hold children, the detention center still hasn’t been certified as a childcare facility.  And yet, if you are a Thrivent member, your money supports the for-profit prison company,Corporate Corrections of America, which runs the facility.

This week the Supreme Court reinstated parts of the president’s travel ban, which, as Lutheran Immigration and Refugee Services (LIRS) states, “will mean individuals whom the U.S. has historically offered protection through the U.S. Refugee Admissions Program (USRAP) will be denied that protection – at least for now – despite their having been appropriately vetted through top security and intelligence agencies.”

Closer to home, in our most recent legislative session, language was included in the budget bill that will make it even harder to reinstate the ability of undocumented immigrants to obtain drivers’ licenses like they had been able to do in the past.

“Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me,” Jesus says. “⁴¹Whoever welcomes a prophet as a prophet will receive a prophet’s reward; and whoever welcomes a righteous person as a righteous person will receive the reward of the righteous.”  It is in these, at times uncomfortable, encounters with prophets, little ones, the tired, the poor, the huddled masses, the wretched refuse, the homeless, tempest-tost that we receive Jesus’ rewards.

We are not the rewards, nor are those we might welcome, but it is in the very act of welcoming, that everyone involved receives Jesus’ reward.  It is in the relationship that forms, the connections created, and the love both given and received.  It is in the work of LIRS, joining together new immigrants and refugees with communities eager to welcome them to this country.  It is along the side of the highway when cars stop to help someone change a tire or get the help that they need.

God gives us glimpses of the reign of God as it will be, God shares a truth deeper than any government or news agency could report, and God uses us, the people we encounter, and the interactions themselves as their own prophetic, performance art and symbolic acts, which embody the Good News.  Through these acts, God welcomes each of us into the dominion of heaven and brings us all closer to the world and the country as we hope it will be.

Thanks be to God.

jesus heals clean and unclean: 2nd after pentecost

The holy gospel according to Luke (7:1-17)

After Jesus had finished all his sayings in the hearing of the people,

       he entered Capernaum.

²A centurion there had a slave whom he valued highly,

       and who was ill and close to death.

³When the centurion heard about Jesus,

       he sent some Jewish elders to him,

              asking him to come and heal his slave.

       ⁴When they came to Jesus,

              they appealed to him earnestly, saying,

                     “The centurion is worthy of having you do this for him,

                            ⁵for he loves our people,

                            and it is he who built our synagogue for us.”

⁶And Jesus went with them,

       but when he was not far from the house,

              the centurion sent friends to say to him,

                     “Lord, do not trouble yourself,

                            for I am not worthy to have you come under my roof;

                                   ⁷therefore I did not presume to come to you.

                     But only speak the word,

                            and let my servant be healed.

                     ⁸For I also am a person set under authority,

                            with soldiers under me;

                                   and I say to one, ‘Go,’

                                          and he goes,

                                   and to another, ‘Come,’

                                          and he comes,

                                   and to my slave, ‘Do this,’

                                          and the slave does it.”

       ⁹When Jesus heard this he was amazed at the centurion,

              and turning to the crowd that followed him, he said,

                     “I tell you, not even in Israel have I found such faith.”

                            ¹⁰When those who had been sent returned to the house,

                                   they found the slave in good health.

¹¹Soon afterwards Jesus went to a town called Nain,

       and his disciples and a large crowd went with him.

¹²As Jesus approached the gate of the town,

       a man who had died was being carried out.

              He was his mother’s only son,

                     and she was a widow;

                            and with her was a large crowd from the town.

              ¹³When the Lord saw her,

                     he had compassion for her and said to her,

                            “Do not weep.”

              ¹⁴Then Jesus came forward and touched the bier,

                     and the bearers stood still. And he said,

                            “Young man, I say to you, rise!”

                                   ¹⁵The dead man sat up and began to speak,

                                   and Jesus gave him to his mother.

                                          ¹⁶Fear seized all of them;

                                          and they glorified God, saying,

                                                 “A great prophet has risen among us!”

                                                 and “God has looked favorably on the chosen people!”

              ¹⁷This word about him spread throughout Judea

                     and all the surrounding country.

The gospel of the lord.

-----

Clean or unclean?  It seems to be the game Jesus is playing in today’s gospel reading.  For Jews like Jesus, much of life and many of the rules around religion and faith center on what is ritually clean and what isn’t, with the goal of avoiding anything unclean because even the slightest contact would also make you unclean. 

So, in today’s gospel reading, Jesus is faced with the battle between clean and unclean.  First a visit to the centurion—a gentile—unclean.  But he doesn’t even go in—clean.  Then on to Nain.              A             funeral             procession.              A bier, carrying a dead man—unclean.  But then the man rises and speaks, clearly alive and not dead—clean.  Which will it be for Jesus?  Clean or unclean?  Is that even what his healing is really about?  Do those categories even matter to him?  Or just to the rest of us?

As we enter into Capernaum with Jesus, a centurion, one of Rome’s military enforcers, sends a request to Jesus.  This centurion, we learn, is different from the rest.  Instead of enforcing the pax romana, a Roman peace by threat of or actual violence, like many other Roman centurions, this one is pacifying and supporting the local Jewish community.  He has built a synagogue for them.  He knows that his job of keeping the community under control will be much easier if they are happy with him than it will be if he is the violent enforcer.

And it works.  The Jewish elders know their alternatives and appreciate him, so they come to Jesus with the request for healing.  Like many faithful people even today, they do their best to impress upon Jesus precisely why this centurion, even though he is a gentile and therefore unclean, is particularly deserving of healing.  He’s one of the good ones!  He’s hard working and built the synagogue!  He’s not lazy or a “free loader.”  He’s not violent!  Really, he deserves it!  He’s earned it!

Jesus doesn’t even bat an eye: someone needs healing?  He’s coming, even if this centurion is a gentile who will make him unclean, after all earlier in Luke, Simeon, who blesses the baby Jesus in the Temple, proclaims God’s work through Jesus as “a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel.”

Jesus’ mission in Luke has never been just for his own people.  It’s always been bigger than that and this centurion, gentile and outsider though he is, remains a part of God’s plan through Jesus.  Even if the centurion’s practices don’t align with Jewish teachings.  Even if he is not circumcised.  Even if he is a Roman soldier, Jesus will be there—unclean.

Then the centurion gets to thinking and decides to send some friends, likely knowing enough about Judaism to know that if Jesus comes to his home, he will be considered ritually unclean.  And maybe the centurion is having second thoughts about having this Jesus character come to his house to begin with.  Can the centurion handle it?  What else might Jesus do or ask if he comes in?

The centurion’s desperation and desire for healing for this “slave whom he valued highly” is clear, and yet there is a part of him that, despite Jesus’ willingness to show up and join him, may never quite feel worthy enough.

As a military man, he is under the commands of his country.  His job is keeping order, enforcing Roman rule, by any means necessary.  It is not his to question the orders he’s given, just to follow them.  And yet, he is the one who is forced to live with those actions.  He is the one left to wonder about the place of justice and love and mercy. 

Like many of our own veterans who return home from war and often wrestle alone with the orders they carried out overseas, this centurion is the one left to wonder if there is another, more peaceful way.  He is the one to try this new way of keeping the peace.

This work for another way of peace is evident as he engages with the Jewish community of Capernaum, supporting their religious expression, keeping the peace through appeasement rather than force. In wrestling with the things he’s had to do in his service in the Roman military, he has chosen a new way forward.  He did what he did in his past because he had to, or at least that’s how it seemed at the time, but can he ever make up for it?  Are his gods keeping track?  Will they forgive him?  Will he forgive himself?  Can he ever make things right?  Will he ever be good enough?

Does anyone else know about his past?  Or what about the complexity of his current life situation?  Is he living well enough?  Is he doing enough good?  Is he enforcing enough rules?  Is he enforcing too many? 

Something is going on in the centurion, to make him feel isolated, unworthy, unclean.  Despite the Jewish elders’ assurances that he is worthy, he still doesn’t feel good enough.  After all, could anyone really understand all that makes up his past?  Could anyone really know him and still think he’s worthy of Jesus’ attention?

And so the centurion stops Jesus on his way and insists he is not worthy, insists that Jesus doesn’t need to risk becoming unclean.  Jesus’ power and healing is possible without the centurion risking Jesus’ arrival to declare him not good enough.  Yet Jesus knows.  Jesus knows the world and the complexities of military service.  Jesus knows that rarely is anything a clear good or bad and Jesus knows this centurion.  So, without even entering his “unclean” home, Jesus brings healing—clean.

Having brought healing of the highly valued slave, and, perhaps healing of a deeper kind for a centurion who, despite his power and prestige, never felt worthy, Jesus and the crew head along their way to Nain where a widow is burying her only son.  Her only hope for economic stability in that society is being carried right out of town.

Approaching the gate, the edge of town, the two crowds converge: Jesus “and his disciples and a large crowd” coming in and the widow “and with her was a large crowd from the town” going out. 

As they encounter each other, Jesus, we learn, “had compassion for her.”  Not just any compassion, however.  The Greek word is deeper than the English translation lets on.  Jesus doesn’t simply have compassion, he is moved at a gut level—this deep, gut-wrenching compassion.  Jesus is hurting as this woman is hurting, hurting for her and with her. 

In the depths of hurt at losing her only son, the despair of not only the loss of a child, but also the loss of any chance at economic stability, Jesus almost cannot help himself. He interrupts the funeral procession, his crowd of followers clashing with hers, Jesus reaches out, and touches the bier! 

The whole scene freezes as a collective gasp runs through both crowds, and almost as a whisper, the escaping realization:

unclean!

Into the stunned silence, Jesus commands, “Young man, I say to you, rise!”  And “The dead man sat up and began to speak”—clean.

This woman is restored to life just as her son is.  This woman, whose worth disappeared with her son’s life, whose power existed through the men she was related to, the men who were dead and gone.  This woman, who couldn’t feel worthy of anything, is claimed by Jesus.  Jesus sees her in the depths of their souls.  Jesus comes to her, joining her in her grief, pain, and despair, and Jesus does not leave her there.  Jesus calls her worthy.

Jesus encounters both of these people, surrounded by their different communities and yet one alone in her grief and the other in his insecurity—one with no power in society and the other with great power and authority.  Feelings of inadequacy and despair abound and yet Jesus engages them both, bringing comfort, healing, and wholeness.

Jesus’ salvation comes, not in the far-off future, but right now.  From the mighty and powerful centurion, who has all the earthly authority he could want and still feels inadequate, to the lowly widow, whose power is only as much as her male offspring, being carried to his burial.  Jesus interrupts their tragic trajectories, bringing healing and wholeness right now.

Jesus’ body, whole and yet about to be broken apart, breaks into feelings of inadequacy and powerlessness, Jesus enters into our regrets and heartbreak.  Jesus interrupts all our wishes of how we could live or who we could have been             with the love and power that only the Holy Spirit can bring.  In the midst of clean and unclean, Jesus brings a new way, a new chance, a deeper knowing. 

As crowds come together, as the pain, alienation, and insecurity bubble to the surface, Jesus says to each one here:

“You, beloved child of God,

       I know your pain. 

       I know your heartache. 

       I know your regret and your sorrow. 

              I know the ways you think you are not good enough

                     or have messed up beyond hope. 

              I know the messages you hear every day. 

       I know you. 

              You are loved by God. 

                     Today. 

                            Just as you are.”

Jesus declares,

       “Child of God,

              I say to you, rise!“

Thanks be to God