WDWWJTD (07/06/08)

(Matthew 11:16-30)

Expectations…  Everybody’s got ‘em.  But sometimes dealing with them can be difficult.  Just ask the Braves’ Jeff Francouer, the former Parkview phenom, who just got sent down to the minor leagues because he’s mired in a terrible batting slump.

Expectations can also get in the way…  A man once asked his good friend why that friend had never married.  The friend sighed, and said, “Well, I guess I just never met the right woman…  I guess I was always looking for the perfect girl.”

“Oh, come on now,” said his buddy.  “Surely you met at least one girl over the years that you wanted to marry.”

“Yes, there was this one girl,” he finally admitted. “I guess she was the perfect girl…  The only perfect girl I ever really met.  She was perfect in every way…  I really thought that she was the perfect girl for me.”

“Well, why didn’t you marry her, then?”

The friend paused, and then sadly replied, “Apparently… she was also looking for the perfect guy.”

And what’s true for us individually is also true, many times, for us collectively as well. For instance, congregations are notorious for wanting, indeed expecting, the perfect pastor.

In fact, I once came across the following list of expectations of the perfect pastor:

• He preaches exactly 15 minutes, never a second more, and then promptly sits down.
• He condemns sin… but never steps on anyone’s toes.
• He works from 8 in the morning until 10 at night doing everything from writing sermons to sweeping the floors; and he’s on call 24/7, fifty two weeks out of the year, yet he leads a balanced life and still has time to be with his family.
• He earns only 400 dollars a week (and gives half of it back as offering), drives a late model car, buys a lot of books, is always well-dressed, and provides for his family’s every need.
• He’s 36 years old, but has 40 years of experience.
• He is tall on the short-side, heavy-set in a thin sort of way, and handsome, but not too handsome to be a temptation.
• He has eyes of blue… or brown, to fit the occasion, and wears his hair parted in the middle – the left side is dark and straight, the right side, brown and wavy.
• He has a burning desire to work with the youth, and yet is always visiting the elderly.
• He smiles all the time, while keeping a straight face; he has a keen sense of humor but is always very serious.
• He makes 15 pastoral visits a day on church members, spends all of his time out in the community evangelizing non-members, and yet is also in his office whenever he’s needed.

I gotta tell you.  If you find that guy – hire him on the spot!  But

I also gotta tell you – that pastor doesn’t exist!  Because when we look for perfection, of course, we’re always going to be disappointed, aren’t we?  For there is no perfect pastor, just as there is no perfect congregation.

A few years ago there was a piece circulating in Lutheran church newsletters with some tongue-in-cheek suggestions for church members unhappy with their pastor.  “Simply send a copy of this letter to six other churches who are also tired of their ministers,” it said.  “Then bundle up your pastor and send him to the church on the top of the list, while at the same time adding your church name to the bottom of the list.  In one week’s time, you will receive 16,436 ministers, and at least one of them should be a dandy.  Have faith, and remember don’t forget to follow these instructions to the letter.  One church broke the chain… and they got their old minister back!”

The truth of the matter is – there is no perfection to be found in this life, at least among human beings.

In the novel Eminence, written by Morris West, the main character, a cardinal in the Roman Catholic Church, is, at one point, being interviewed by a journalist who asks him, “What’s wrong with the church?”  And the cardinal replies, “The same things that have been wrong with it for two thousand years – people!”

The other day I was looking up a church online at the ELCA website when I came across another congregation in the very same town.  So, out of curiosity, I clicked on this congregation’s report, as well, and discovered that it was only organized back in 1994, when it reported an average of 229 worshipers per Sunday.  But just thirteen years later, in 2007, they reported 4,948 worshipers each weekend!

Of course, now I was really intrigued.  So I clicked on the link to their website and browsed for a few minutes until I saw that you could actually listen to their pastors’ sermons.  So I went to that page, and randomly picked out a sermon by their senior pastor to listen to.  And in this sermon, their pastor was talking about the reasons why so many people outside the church have absolutely no interest in becoming involved in the church.  One man, in particular, had recently said to this pastor, “The biggest stumbling block for me isn’t Christ… its Christians.”  The man then went on to talk a little about the hateful, unforgiving, condescending, and judgmental things that Christians have said and done at times.

Well, after relating this encounter, and the man’s feeling that Christians, not Christ, are the problem, this pastor then did something surprising.  He asked everyone in the congregation that morning to turn to the person next to them and say, “You’re the problem!”

Now if I had only known that it was this easy to grow a mega-church, I would have told you folks that you were the problem a long time ago!  (Just kidding.)

But my point is simply this, often times we are the problem; pastors and congregations alike.  And a big part of the problem is, again, our expectations.

There was a cartoon once that showed a young boy standing toe-to-toe and nose-to-nose with his teacher.  Behind them was a blackboard covered with unsolved math problems; presumably ones that the boy had been unable to finish, or do correctly.  And in the caption, the boy is saying to his teacher, “I’m not an underachiever… you’re just an over-expecter!”

Expectations.  Everybody’s got ‘em.  And they can really get in the way.  Sometimes… they can be really hard to deal with.  Just ask Jesus…

You see, expectations, especially unmet expectations, were a big problem for him as well.  Now you wouldn’t think so, being the Son of God and all that.  But they were.

For instance, in the verses just before today’s gospel reading, Jesus is having a conversation with the crowds about John the Baptist. He says to them: What were you expecting when you went out into the wilderness to hear him preach?  Did you go out into the desert looking for someone dressed in fine clothes, speaking messages that were uncritical and comforting; easy for everyone to hear, including the rich and those in power?

Or did you go out there to see and hear a prophet?  Someone who was going to challenge you with the hard and honest truth.  Let

me tell you folks, said Jesus, John was indeed a prophet of God.  “Truly I tell you, among those born of women, no one has arisen greater than John the Baptist…”

And as our passage this morning opens, Jesus is saying to them: But you just don’t get it, do you?  What were you expecting?

You’re like immature children, he says.  And then he characterizes their expectations in this way: We played the flute for you, and yet you did not dance; we sang a dirge, and yet you did not mourn.  In other words, as Hubert Beck has described it, “We called the tune, and you wouldn’t dance to it; we sang the song that was supposed to move you, and you wouldn’t be moved!  What more can we do to make you do what we want you to do, to act like we want you to act…?”

“For John came neither eating nor drinking,” continues Jesus.  Remember John was the guy (says scripture) who wore camel’s hair clothing, and ate locusts and wild homey.  Not exactly the type looking for a life of leisure; not exactly the fun kind of guy you’d want to invite to your party.  And Jesus reminds them that they said of John, “He has a demon.”

While I “came eating and drinking,” said Jesus.  Someone who really enjoyed sitting down and sharing a good meal with people; who never turned down an invitation, no matter who it came from; that is, the kind of guy who was always at the top of everyone’s guest list.  And yet, says Jesus, you call me “a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners.”

In other words, John and Jesus were almost polar opposites.  John was austere and confrontational.  And the people didn’t like that.

Whereas Jesus was accessible and understanding.  And the people didn’t like that either!  It seemed that no matter who God sent, it was never right.  Neither John nor Jesus met their expectations…

And it’s at this point that the lectionary normally skips ahead to verse 25, completely omitting Jesus’ harsh words in verses 20 thru 24.  Here Jesus sounds a lot more like John the Baptist than he does himself.  And maybe that’s why the folks who decide on the lectionary chose to skip these verses.

But I wanted you to hear them this morning.  Because they reflect the degree of anger and frustration Jesus was feeling at that moment.  He began to “reproach” the cities in which most of his deeds of power had been done, says our reading; that is, to rebuke them and express his “disapproval.”

He did this, because if anyone should have understood what he was all about and what he was trying to do; if anyone should have “gotten it,” it was these cities.  If anyone should have repented in the face of, and in response to, his power and authority, it was them.

But it seems, given the conversation they’ve been having here with Jesus, that they hadn’t.  Obviously, they just didn’t get it.  Therefore, says Jesus, it will be more tolerable on the Day of Judgment for Tyre and Sidon, where he had not done any similar deeds of power; and it will even be more tolerable for the notoriously wicked city of Sodom – than it will be for you.

Expectations; unmet, unfulfilled, unrealistic expectations would apparently be their downfall…

Several years ago, you may recall, those bracelets with “WWJD” on them were all the rage in Christian circles.  The “WWJD,” of course, stood for “What would Jesus do?” and it was a reminder to the one wearing it that, when facing difficult decisions, they should stop and try to think about what Jesus himself might do in that very same situation.  And then let that conclusion inform and shape their decision-making.  Not a bad idea, I thought.

But, unfortunately, and even though such a bracelet doesn’t even exist, many Christians are much more likely to wear one that has the letters “WDWWJTD” on it.  That is “What do we want Jesus to do.”

You see, many times we’re far less interested in knowing, or thinking, about what we could do to reflect our walk with Christ (in other words, what we could do for Jesus), and much more interested, however, in knowing, or thinking, about what Jesus could do for us!  …Expectations again.

How often – rather than focusing on our daily walk with Jesus, and how that walk of discipleship could and should impact the things we do and the decisions we make; that is, the expectations we should have of ourselves – we focus, instead, on our expectations of Jesus.  What can Jesus do for me?  How can he help me?  How can he make my life better, or more fulfilling?  How can he give me the things I want out of life?

The problem, here, is that it’s not supposed to be about our expectations, it’s not about what we want. Rather, it’s all about what we need.

Like any good parent, God is not really interested in, or swayed by, what his children want or desire. No, God, like any good parent, is much more concerned about what we need; about taking care of the basic needs of his people so that they can be healthy, happy, and well-adjusted.  And so that was what Jesus was all about as well.

Therefore, in the concluding verses of our gospel this morning, Jesus, in effect, puts down all the wise and intelligent people who think they’ve got it all figured out; the folks who are all caught up in the expectations they have of Jesus, instead of the expectations they should have of themselves in response to all that Jesus has done for them, and offers them.

“Thank you, Father,” says Jesus, that you’ve revealed these things, instead, to “infants.”  Now, however, he’s not referring to immature children. The Greek word here literally means “not speaking,” and therefore refers to that child before he or she can talk.

But it can also be used metaphorically to refer to those who, like infants, are completely dependent upon God.  Who, instead of having all these expectations and making demands of God, simply depend on God – like an infant – for everything they need in life.

Again… it’s not about what we want, it’s about what we need.  And to these so-called “infants” who trust and rely upon God, Jesus speaks the famous, and comforting, final words of our passage this morning.

Paul Tillich, one of the theological giants of the 20^th century (and also a Lutheran), once wrote, “When I was of the age to receive confirmation and full membership in the Church, I was told to choose a passage from the Bible as the expression of my personal approach to the Biblical message and to the Christian Church.  Every confirmee was obliged to do so, and to recite the passage before the congregation.  When I chose the words, ‘Come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy laden,’ I was asked, with a kind of astonishment and even irony, why I had chosen that particular passage.  For I was living under happy circumstances, and, being only fifteen years old, was without any apparent labor and burden.  I could not answer at that time; I felt a little embarrassed, but basically right.  And I was right, indeed; every child is right in responding immediately to those words; every adult is right in responding to them in all periods of his life, and under all… conditions…  These words of Jesus are universal, and fit every human being and every human situation…”

What Tillich was saying here is that all of us, no matter who we are, or what age or station in life we find ourselves, have basic needs that only Jesus Christ can fulfill, and burdens that only Jesus Christ can help us carry…

On this 4^th of July holiday weekend, we have all probably stopped to think, at some point, about the freedom and independence we enjoy as Americans.  And what it means to live in this great nation; not a perfect nation, mind you, but a great one nonetheless.  And it occurred to me that we have a tendency, at times, to focus only on the good things this country has provided us, and all the wonderful aspects of being an American citizen.

But it also occurred to me that the greatness of this nation is, in the end, not really all about our wants and our desires, or our “personal expectations,” either.  In the end, the greatness of our country is not really about what we, or anyone else, wants, but what we actually need.

That’s what, I believe, this country was founded upon.  That’s what separates the United States, in my opinion, from virtually every other nation on the face of this earth.  And it’s probably no more beautifully expressed than in the words that are inscribed on a bronze plaque inside the pedestal of the Statue of Liberty; that historic landmark in New York harbor which has welcomed hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of immigrants to these shores; including all four of my grandparents.  It’s a poem, entitled “The New Colossus,” by Emma Lazarus:

Not like the bronze 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-tossed to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

Thus, even the Statue of Liberty, herself, does not represent what we, or anyone else, wants, but rather what we truly need.  And what Lady Liberty has so perfectly symbolized for more than a century now, is our need for a fresh start, a second chance, a new beginning, and a place to call home.

Well, as powerful as the symbol of the Statue of Liberty may be, and as poignant as that poem which adorns her pedestal may be, there is no more comforting or welcoming presence in this world than our Lord and Savior, Jesus the Christ; and no more comforting words, than the ones he spoke long before there even was a United States, or a Statue of Liberty, for that matter.

“Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens,” said Jesus, “and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

Jesus knew full well, of course, about all the things we either want, or desire, in this life.  But he loved us so much, that he chose not to give us what we wanted; but, instead, to give us what we so desperately needed.

That is, someone who could take away those heavy burdens that we are always carrying around with us on our shoulders.  Someone who could give us the kind of peace and rest that we are forever seeking, but never seem to find.  Someone who loves and accepts us for who we are, and then tells us that, no matter who we are, we are always welcome in his Father’s house.

Amen

 

Our Welcoming Ways (06/29/08)

Our Welcoming Ways

(Matthew 10:40-42)

Three couples from my past…  Their names were Vern and Mary Anne, Mike and Lori, and Herm and Eleanor.  I encountered each of these three couples at a particular time and place in my past, and they all left an indelible mark on my life and also my call to ministry as well.

The names of the first couple were Vern and Mary Anne (two words).  I can’t remember their last name anymore, but I do remember their first names because they were so similar to close family friends of Jeanette’s while she was growing up, Vern and Mary Ellen Arft.  Again, this couple was Vern and Mary Anne.

And although I haven’t seen or talked to them in close to 28 years now, I’ll never forget them.  They were members of Zion Lutheran Church in West Jefferson, Ohio where I served during my first year at seminary.  The program was called “Ministry in Context,” or MIC for short (although, as students, we sometimes added the “K-E-Y” and said that it was “Mickey Mouse.”)

The idea, more or less, was to assign all the first-year seminarians to area churches where, outside of the classroom and a purely academic environment, they could get involved on Sunday mornings in worship and Sunday school, and then also serve one other day during the week in order to experience, again, (quote unquote) “ministry in context.”

Vern and Mary Anne were about my parent’s age at the time, also with two sons – one still at home and the other off to college.  Mary Anne was the church organist and that’s how I first came to know her.  But early on in the year, she and Vern invited me over to their house after church one day for Sunday dinner, and a few hours of rest and relaxation; an invitation they then repeated almost monthly for the rest of that year as well.

For a student who ate only cafeteria or the occasional “fast” food, a good home-cooked meal was a God-send, and so I jumped at the chance.  From day one, Vern and Mary Anne welcomed me into their home like I was family; indeed in some ways I think I was filling the void created by their son being away at college.  I’ll never forget, Mary Anne even remarked one time, after I had thanked them again for their hospitality, that they hoped some other couple out there would think to do the very same for their own son.

A typical Sunday afternoon went something like this: a wonderful home cooked meal followed by sitting around in their family room watching sports on TV for a few hours.  Sometimes I even drifted off to sleep on their couch.  And, then, later that afternoon Mary Anne would typically send me off with some leftovers to warm up for supper, and Vern, who worked for a candy company, usually had a bag full of my favorite sweets (back when I could still eat them and not gain any weight!) to take with me on their road.

Now they didn’t have to do this, but they wanted to.  And while they also seemed to enjoy my company, in reality I was the one who truly benefitted; from their hospitality and from their kindness…

A couple of years later, Jeanette and I were newly married and found ourselves on my first internship down in Beaumont, Texas.  That’s where we met Mike and Lori.  I do remember their last name: Lockwood.  The Lockwood’s were a young couple, several years old than us, but also without children at that point.  They were members of Bethlehem Lutheran Church and also members of my internship committee.

And they, too, went above and beyond the call of duty.  Others in the congregation certainly befriended us and occasionally invited us over to their homes, but Mike and Lori let us hang out with them.  In fact, their house was a welcomed escape, and retreat, from our tiny duplex on the weekend, and pretty soon Lori let Jeanette bring over our laundry as well, since the little washing machine in our apartment tended to “eat” our clothes, and the Laundromat could get expensive.  It was not unusual, therefore, for us to go over to their house on a Friday nigh or a Saturday afternoon to watch a movie and have a pizza, while our laundry was getting done.

Now Mike and Lori were also from Ohio; Toledo and Maumee, respectively, and so we really hit it off with them.  But they, too, went to the next level with their hospitality and friendship.  And we kept in touch with them for several years afterwards, once even getting together back up in Ohio.  But eventually we lost contact with them, although, as I say, we’ll never forget them…

Finally, just about four years later, after I had completed my seminary studies but had to repeat the internship, at my own request since there had been some bad conflict down in Beaumont while I was there, I ended up being assigned to another Zion Lutheran Church, this time in Gibsonburg, Ohio, southwest of Toledo between Bowling Green and Fremont.  It’s here that we met Herm and Eleanor Rolf.

Because Jeanette had to tie up some loose ends with her job down in Columbus, and the parsonage where the congregation was going to house us wasn’t going to be available for a couple of months, Herm and Eleanor offered to let me stay with them, and quickly opened up their home to me for as long as I needed it.  Their own children were all grown and gone at this point, including their youngest son who was about my age.

Once again, they quickly adopted both of us (me and Jeanette) into their family, and treated us like we were their own children.  When I was ordained the following summer, they even drove all the way out to New Jersey to be a part of that important day, and we kept in touch with them for all these years until just recently.

We would often stop in and visit them whenever we were traveling to and from Jeanette’s parent’s home in Michigan, even after we had kids.  In fact, one time, when Kristyn was little (I can’t believe she just turned 21 yesterday, how time flies!), Kristyn asked if we were going to visit her “other” grandparents.  We didn’t know what she meant by this.  Jeanette’s grandparents were still living at that time, down in Florida, and at first we wondered if Kristyn was referring to them.

No, said Kristyn, my grandparents in Ohio. You don’t have grandparents in Ohio, we started to say… and then we suddenly realized that she was referring to Herm and Eleanor!  A third couple whose hospitality and “welcoming ways” will not soon be forgotten.

Welcoming and hospitality, of course, figure prominently in our short, but powerful, gospel reading this morning.  Now, normally, we are reminded in scripture to welcome the “outsider” and to show hospitality to the “stranger.”  Many of us, undoubtedly, also remember how Jesus told his disciples that whatever you have done unto the “least of these my brethren, you have done unto me.”  Or who could forget this verse in the Letter to the Hebrews, “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it.”

And all of this was consistent with the Old Testament traditions regarding how God’s people were expected to treat the sojourners and the aliens in their midst.

But this morning’s lesson puts a little twist on these expectations regarding hospitality and welcoming.  Instead of talking here about how we are to treat others, especially the strangers and aliens in our midst, today’s verses are focused, instead, on how others should treat us; that is, as Christians witnesses of Jesus Christ.

“Whoever welcomes you welcomes me,” said Jesus, “and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me.”  As Bryan Findlayson has written, “To welcome the messenger and accept their message is to welcome the one who sent the messenger.  To welcome a disciple is to welcome Jesus, and to welcome Jesus is to welcome the one who sent him, namely, the Lord God.”

In Matthew 10, you see, Jesus has been all about commissioning and then sending out his disciples as his ambassadors. Quick, who can tell me the name of the United States ambassador to Great Britain?  To Israel?  To Mexico?  Probably no one, because the ambassadors identity is irrelevant.  What is important, however, is who or what the ambassador represents.

And so it is with Christian disciples as well.  As you’ve heard me say before, and will undoubtedly hear me say again, “it’s not about us.”  Rather, it’s all about the one who sent us; that is, Jesus Christ. Scott Hoezee adds, “So often when we read Matthew 10’s closing words about handing out a cup of cold water… we often picture ourselves as the water-givers, reveling in the fact that to serve even society’s lowliest people is the same thing as serving Jesus himself.  And there is something to that line of thought, as Jesus made clear in the famous verse, ‘I was in prison and you visited me, naked and you clothed me…’  But in Matthew 10,” he says, “it may be a bit more radical than that: here in these verses it’s not that when we serve others, we serve Jesus, but rather that when others serve us they serve Jesus because they are supposed to see the true Christ in us.” It’s really a simple concept, actually.

A substitute Sunday school teacher once couldn’t open the combination lock on the supply cabinet.  So she went to the pastor for help.  The pastor went with her to the supply room.  He took the lock in his hands and started turning the dial. After the first two numbers, however, he got a puzzled look on his face, stopped turning the dial, and serenely looked up – as if to heaven – for the answer.  Slowly, he began moving his lips silently and then turned the dial to the last number, and the lock fell open.

The teacher gasped.  “Wow!  That was something,” she said.  “I’m totally in awe of your faith, Pastor!”  The pastor replied, “Ah, it’s nothing really…  Pointing upward, he said, “The combination’s written on a piece of tape on the ceiling.”

Here, with the issue of welcoming and hospitality, it’s also pretty simple, “Whoever welcomes you, welcomes me.”

As Scott Hoezee, again, points out, “I have always relied on the kindness of strangers” is the famous closing line spoken by Blanche Dubois in the classic, award-winning play A Streetcar Named Desire, written by Tennessee Williams.  “In Matthew 10,” writes Hoezee, “Jesus basically tells the disciples that they, too, must rely on the kindness of strangers when they go out to proclaim the good news of the kingdom…  By doing so, Jesus puts the disciples at the mercy of the hosts they would encounter along the way…  Jesus is not talking (here) about a message to be heard, but about the reception of a person, namely himself as he dwells inside the disciples.

And so I think about those three couples who had such a meaningful and lasting impact on my life and ministry; three couples I will never forget.  What they did for me, and also for Jeanette, was thoughtful and kind. But in doing it for a future pastor of the church it was even more than that.  Because just as we can see the face of Jesus in the face of that person in need; in the same way, then, when we welcome and extend kindness to a pastor, or even to a “pastor-in-training,” or even any fellow Christian, it’s as if we are actually doing these things to our Lord himself.  No… we are, in fact, doing these things directly to Jesus.

And so what does that also say about how we should treat and regard pastors and church-workers?  For instance, I can’t tell you how many hurtful and unkind things I have heard spoken over the years about a former pastor, especially when I was visiting with parishioners as their new pastor.  Now I always tried to stop them dead in their tracks because I thought such talk and behavior was totally inappropriate and uncalled for.  But now I see that it’s actually even worse than that; for, again, when they say such hurtful and unkind things about a pastor, or a church-worker, or even a fellow member of the congregation, they are really saying these things about Christ.

Father Anthony Clavier, an Episcopal priest, reminds us “Hospitality towards other Christians isn’t to be based on whether we like their opinions (for example, what James Dobson had to say about Barack Obama in recent days), but on their status. Another Christian is another Christian.  That’s worth remembering next time you get into a quarrel at a vestry (or church council) meeting, or accuse someone of not being a ‘real’ Christian!  Jesus is talking about a culture of kindness; a habit learned through living a selfless life, a life-giving life, a life lived in Jesus.”

Larry Patten points out that, in today’s gospel, the word “welcome” was used – in just those three short verses – six times.  And looking even further, he also discovered that variations of the word “welcome” were used at least sixty times in the New Testament.  “Welcome” appeared more than “sword” (28 times), but less then “angel” (over 150 times).

But “welcome” occurred just as frequently as “worship” and “teacher.”  Which is to say, he writes, that when you consider how important worship and teaching were to Jesus’ ministry, then welcoming ranks pretty high.

Jesus also talks about “rewards” in today’s passage.  Whoever welcomes a prophet will receive a prophet’s reward, whoever welcomes a righteous person will receive the reward of the righteous.  Even whoever gives a cup of cold water to one of the little ones… truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.

Now commentators have sometimes argued over who these prophets, righteous persons, and little ones really were.  Were these job titles or some other kind of designation in the early church?  Or is it simply this, if someone welcomes one of Jesus’ followers – from the greatest of them, to the most insignificant – it doesn’t really matter, he or she will be rewarded.

Yet, speaking of “rewards” like this, as Pastor Ed Markquart has pointed out, does not imply that we somehow earn salvation, or that salvation is not a gift.  What it means is that these acts of kindness will not go unnoticed or unrewarded.  Another way of putting it is that those who welcome Jesus’ followers will be blessed by God for even the simplest acts of kindness and hospitality.

Consider Jesus’ one example: the giving of a cup of cold water.  In Jesus’ day, a traveler in hot, dusty Palestine would certainly appreciate something as simple as a cold cup of water.  “What a treat,” writes Markquart.  “What a reception.  What a welcome…

To give a cup of cold water was a symbol of meeting another person’s essential need… a pure gift.”

Even more than that, hospitality – in this context – is also a sign, as someone once noted, that the “reign of God is near.”  The offer of a cup of cold water may seem like an act of charity which brings a spiritual reward, writes Bryan Findlayson, “yet the context works against such a view.  It is but a description of the welcoming of a disciple and, thus, the welcoming of their message,” and the welcoming of the very one who sent that message…

In the 1950’s, marketing whiz Stanley Arnold was working at Young & Rubicam, where he was asked to come up with a marketing campaign for Remington Rand.  This company, at that time, was among the most conservative in America.  Its chairman of the board was retired General Douglas MacArthur.  Intimidated, at first, by a company that was so much a part of America, Arnold nevertheless also found in that phrase the inspiration for his campaign.

After thinking about it for a while, he went to the New York offices of Merrill Lynch, Pierce, Fenner, and Beane, and placed the ultimate “odd-lot” order.  “I want to purchase,” he told the broker, “one share of every single stock listed on the New York Stock Exchange.”  After a vice president tried to talk him out of it, the order was finally placed.  It came to $42,000 for one share in each of the 1,098 companies listed on the Big Board at that time.

Arnold then took his diversified portfolio into a meeting of Remington Rand’s board of directors, where he argued passionately for a sweepstakes campaign with the top prize called “A Share in America.”

The conservative old gentlemen shifted around uncomfortably in their seats and discussed the idea for a while.  “But Mr. Arnold,” one of them finally said, “we’re not in the securities business.”  And another added, “We’re in the shaver business.”

Arnold then responded, “I agree, gentlemen, that you are not in the securities business, but I think you also ought to realize that you’re not in the shaver business either.  You’re in the people business.”  The company bought his idea…

Sometimes, perhaps even many times, as Christians we mistakenly think that we’re in the church business, or the bible business, or the morality business.  But the simple reality is that we, too, are in the people business.

That’s what Jesus was always most concerned about – people.  That’s why it mattered to him how we treated the least among us.  And that’s also why it mattered to him how his disciples were treated, as well.  Because for Jesus, in the end, it all came down to people and to our welcoming ways.

Amen

 

God’s Big Backyard (06/15/08)

God’s Big Backyard

(Exodus 19:2-9, 16-19; 1 Peter 2:9-10; Matthew 9:35-10: 8 )

Today’s sermon theme, of course, was also the theme of this past week’s Vacation Bible School. Forty children were enrolled and by Friday, I’m told, we had even more children than that. Usually, you see, it works the other way. That is, you lose students as the week progresses. But we gained! Which is a testament to the hard work, and superlative efforts, of our Director of Family Ministries, Emilie Bush, and her dedicated staff. And so it also seems fitting, therefore, that a week of bible school with a theme like “God’s Big Backyard” would then culminate, as it has today, in a worship service out here in God’s creation.

John Ortberg, in his book The Life You Always Wanted, once offered an “alternate version” of the bible’s creation story. In Ortberg’s version, in the beginning God went to work because it was nine o’clock and he had to. And the first thing God did was to fill out a requisition form to separate the light from the darkness. That completed, God considered making stars to beautify the night, and planets to fill the skies, but then reconsidered. It sounded like too much work; and, besides, God thought, “That’s not my job.” So God decided to knock off early and call it a day. And he looked at what he’d done and he said, “It’ll have to do.”

On the second day, God separated the waters from the dry land. And he made all the dry land flat, plain, and functional, so that – behold – the whole earth looked like… Idaho. Now God thought about making mountains and valleys and glaciers and jungles and forests, but he decided that it wouldn’t be worth the effort. And so God looked at what he had done on that second day and said, “It’ll have to do.”

And then God made a pigeon to fly in the air, and a carp to swim in the waters, and a cat to creep upon the dry ground. God also thought about making millions of other species of all sizes and shapes and colors, but he couldn’t drum up any enthusiasm for these other animals. As a matter of fact, he wasn’t even too crazy about that cat. Besides, it was almost time for the Late Show. So God looked at all he had done and God said, “It’ll have to do.”

And so it went for the rest of that week of creation. And when it was over, God was seriously burned out. So he breathed a big sigh of relief and said, “Thank Me, it’s Friday!” And then God rested from all his labors on the Sabbath…

Of course, the book of Genesis doesn’t describe creation in this way – fortunately! Instead, it describes God taking great care, and being wonderfully creative, and exhibiting a true sense of joy and satisfaction in all that he had made. At each step of the way, in fact, rather than simply concluding, “it’ll have to do,” the bible says that God stopped and surveyed what he had just created and saw that, “it was good.” In fact, when it was all finally complete, God saw everything that he had made and, indeed, “it was very good.”

And, thus, it was into this “very good” creation that God placed us, and called us to be caretakers of it. That is, to “care for” and to “protect” everything God had made: the mountains, and seas, and forests, and jungles, as well as all the plants and animals and creepy-crawly things which inhabited these various ecosystems.

But even more than that… God also gave us a “special” calling; a calling he first extended to the people of Israel. As we heard in our first reading, after God had delivered the Israelites from bondage and led them out of Egypt into the wilderness – out there, out in that wilderness, out in God’s big backyard, if you will – he said to them, “if you obey my voice and keep my covenant, you shall be my treasured possession… you shall be for me a priestly kingdom and a holy nation.”

“Imagine how the Israelites must have felt hearing these words,” writes Judith Carrick. “Out of all (the) nations you will be my treasured possession. Although the whole earth is mine, you will be for me a kingdom of priests… Against all odds, and surely even against their own expectations, God had allowed this group of slaves to escape the domination of… Egypt… Now here they were, at the foot of Mt. Sinai, after three months of hard travel, hearing through Moses the unbelievable words from God himself, telling them that they were chosen and precious in his sight.”

Then, over a thousand years later, the letter of 1 Peter encouraged and inspired the early Christian community with virtually the same words, “But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people…” And then our reading from 1 Peter also reminded us exactly why we have received such a calling; that is, “in order that you may proclaim the might acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light.”

Which is simply to say, that with this “special” calling came a “special” responsibility. The reason why this priestly people and holy nation has been called and set apart by God is so that it can proclaim the good news of God’s kingdom and what God has done (and continues to do) in Jesus Christ.

And so we also heard this morning how Jesus summoned his followers and gave them authority to cast out unclean spirits and to cure every disease and every sickness, and then he sent them out into God’s big backyard to love and to serve in God’s name.

This past week, the children in our Vacation Bible School learned, through the daily bible stories, that we are called to love and to serve in a variety of ways and a variety of situations. First, they learned that we are called to “serve family” and then to “serve friends.” But they also heard that we are called to “serve our neighbors” and to “serve our community” as well.

Last, but not least, we are called to “serve Jesus.” But as I tried to remind the children in our closing on Friday, when we serve our family, friends, neighbors, and community we are serving Jesus. Because Jesus taught us, over and over again, that the very best way we can possibly serve him… is to serve others.

We’re special people, you and I. Now there are those who remind us of this all the time. Almost every day, in fact, when I come home from church and check the mail, or the phone messages on our answering machine, I keep hearing how truly special I really am. “Edward, you’re a winner! You’ve been chosen to receive a free, all-expense paid trip to Disney World.” Or, “Mr. Kroppa, would you please take a moment and complete a survey for us in order to get your special prize.” Or, “Mr. Edward, call now and we’ll send you and Mrs. Edward on that dream vacation you’ve always wanted to take.”

Three or four times a day, I hear that I’m a pretty special guy.

So are my kids. Ever since she graduated from high school, our daughter Sarah has been hearing weekly from the U.S. Army, Navy, Air Force, Marine Corps, as well as the reserves and National Guard. I guess she’s pretty special, too!

But, of course, these kinds of letters and phone messages are simply a marketer’s ploy to make us feel special or important, so that we can do something for them; buy their product, or answer their survey, or, in the case of our daughter Sarah with the armed services, fill their quotas.

However, it doesn’t work that way with God. God, the creator, the owner of this “big backyard” we know as earth, called the Israelites and told them they were special – even when they had absolutely nothing to offer him! They possessed absolutely nothing that the creator of this universe could possibly have desired from them!

In a sense, God said, “You can’t do anything for me. But I can and will do something for you. Out of all the peoples in the world, I will make you my treasured possession. Out of all the peoples in the world, I will make you a priestly kingdom and a holy nation.

I will bless you. And even more than that, if you keep my covenant, I will make you a blessing to others as well.”

And, in Jesus Christ, God simply repeated and expanded this promise: to bless us so that we could then be a blessing to others. So whatever it is that we have to offer the world as the church, it is not something we possess. Rather, it’s something from God that we are called, and privileged, to share with others.

As Mike Wilkins reminds us, “The church is not a religious institution, it is not a service provider, it is not a retail outlet: it is a community of faith. The word for church in the Bible is ‘ecclesia’ from which we get the word, ‘ecclesiastical.’ It comes to us from two other Greek words, ‘ek’ for ‘out’, and ‘klesis’ for ‘a calling.’ (So) when the Bible calls us the ‘ecclesia,’ it is calling us the ‘called-out community.’ …The ‘ecclesia’ is not an organization or an institution, it literally means a gathering of the people – a gathering of God’s people! Church is not a place – it is a people.”

And it is a people who, through absolutely no talent or effort of their own, are nevertheless sent out into the world to serve God, and to proclaim his mighty deeds.

Now what does this mean? Well, it means that being the church and serving God is not about us. It’s about the God who called us out of the darkness of our own making… and into the light of his marvelous love and grace.

It’s about not taking ourselves too seriously. After all, keep in mind, as I pointed out earlier, that we have absolutely nothing that God could possibly want from us. Because, remember, once we were not a people. We were of no account or consequence. But now we are God’s people. Once we had not received mercy,

and we were instead mired in the muck of our own sin and unworthiness. But now we have received mercy. In other words, we should never take ourselves too seriously because – whatever it is that we have, whatever it is that we are – comes from God, not us.

There’s a story told about Pope John XXIII. One of his advisors, apparently, was constantly nagging him to fix this problem or that problem. This official lived as though he alone saw the severity of the challenges facing the world and the church, and that, without, his warnings and efforts, the entire world would collapse. Finally, the Pope had had enough. So he took this hyper-conscientious advisor aside and confessed that he, too, was sometimes tempted to think and live as though the fate of the entire world rested on his shoulders. He said he was helped, however, by the angel who would occasionally appear by the side of his bed and say, “Hey there, Johnny boy, don’t take yourself too seriously.”

After all, the people God calls and then sends out into the world are not necessarily the “cream of the crop,” if you know what I mean – popes included. Instead, keep in mind that the people God has chosen, and continues to choose, are often very flawed.

For instance, in a quick review of some of the great men and women in scripture, we find one who confessed that he was willing to give his wife to another man to sleep with. Another plotted to kill the husband of the woman he lusted after. Still another murdered a man and then had to run from the law. One was a prostitute. Another had a lifestyle marked by violence. And still another cheated his own brother out of that brother’s inheritance. And, finally, one not only persecuted the early church, but actually stood by as the first Christian martyr was stoned to death.

So what do Abraham, David, Moses, Rahab, Samson, Jacob, and Paul have in common? Despite their many sins and shortcomings, and obvious flaws – God still managed to use them to further and to fulfill his gracious will.

Well, it’s no different with us. We are not worthy of the calling to which we’ve been called. But worthiness has nothing to do with it. It’s all about mercy. And what better way for God to communicate his mercy than to illustrate it through the lives of those to whom he has been merciful…

The second thing to keep in mind is that, since it’s not our own talent or ability or righteousness at work when we serve God, the only thing God requires and asks of us is commitment and dedication. When Jesus sent his disciples out to heal the sick and to cast out demons, it was his power and his authority at work – not theirs. They were, and today we are, simply “laborers” sent out into his harvest.

Once, at a meeting of the Fellowship of Christian Athletes, Bobby Richardson, the second basemen of the New York Yankees back in the 1950’s and 60’s, expressed this kind of commitment and dedication in a prayer marked by both its brevity and also its poignancy. “Dear God,” said Richardson, “Your will; nothing more, nothing less, nothing else. Amen.”

The implication here, of course, is that we have to stake everything we have, and everything we are – on God’s call. As someone once pointed out, a husband or wife who is only 85%, or even 90% faithful to his or her spouse is not really faithful at all.

What’s needed, instead, is 100% devotion and faithfulness. It is said that when Julius Caesar landed on the shores of Britain with his Roman legions, half a century before the birth of Christ, he took a bold and decisive step. Ordering his men to march to the edge of the cliffs of Dover, he commanded them to look down at the water below. To their utter amazement, they saw every ship in which they had crossed the channel from Europe engulfed in flames. Caesar had deliberately cut off any possibility of retreat. Now that his soldiers were unable to return to the continent, there was nothing left for them to do but advance and conquer.

Nearly 1600 years later, the Spanish explorer, Hernando Cortez, did the very same thing. Landing at, what is today, Vera Cruz, Mexico in the spring of 1519, he set fire to the 11 ships which had brought him and his 700 men from Cuba. Like Julius Caesar before him, the commitment and dedication of Cortez was absolute…

Can it be any less for us? God, the creator of the universe, this “big backyard,” has actually chosen us – as unworthy as we are – to be his priestly kingdom and his holy nation. Therefore, can we even contemplate anything less than 100% devotion in response?

Fritz Kreisler, the famous violinist, once said, “Narrow is the road that leads to a violinist. Hour after hour, day after day, and week after week, for years, I lived with my violin. There were so many things that I wanted to do that I had to leave undone; there were many places I wanted to go that I had to miss, if I was to master the violin. The road that I traveled was a narrow road and the way was hard.”

In fact, a woman once came up to Fritz Kreisler after one of his concerts and said to him, “I’d give my life to play as beautifully as you do.” To which Kreisler replied, “I did.”

You know, you can almost substitute the word “disciple” for “violinist” in that passage written by Fritz Kreisler and come up with something very similar to what Jesus had to say about the way of life for those who dared to commit themselves to following him. The way is not easy. It is not without self-sacrifice and single-mindedness. The road to be traveled is, indeed, a narrow one.

But the rewards are unmistakable… and they are eternal.

For Fritz Kreisler, of course, it was all about the opportunity to master a musical instrument, and to be acclaimed throughout the world for his prowess. For the average Christian, the rewards – at first glance – would certainly seem to be much more modest. But when you step back, and stop to think for a minute, you realize how untrue that really is.

Because, for the Christian, even the average Christian, the reward is this:

• knowing that you have contributed to a cause greater than yourself – to God’s cause,
• that you have been a blessing to others simply by sharing the blessings of God with them,
• that through the power and authority of Jesus Christ you have helped make this world – in the here and now – a better place,
• and that you have lived your life as that good and faithful servant whose real treasure still awaits in heaven.

God created us and set us loose in his big backyard. But God also called us with a “special calling” to serve others. And to make that big backyard a better place.

Amen

 

Connecting The Dots

Connecting The Dots

(Matthew 7:21-29)

The month of May is the traditional time for graduation in this country.  Not only for those graduating from high school in the South, like our daughter Sarah who graduated from Parkview a week and a half ago; but also for those graduating from colleges and universities, as well as graduate and professional schools.  And graduations, as you know, require commencement speakers who, while typically not compensated financially (at least that’s what they tell us), normally receive, at minimum, an honorary doctorate plus expenses.  All in all, nice work, if you can get it.

Now, of course, we’ve just completed a month of graduations at institutions of higher learning across the country, and so, out of curiosity, I went online to see exactly who these commencement speakers were this year.  As a group, not surprisingly, politicians were quite popular again, especially on their home turf.  For instance, Atlanta Mayor Shirley Franklin was the commencement speaker at Agnes Scott College; Congressman Charles Rangel of New York spoke at Bard College; and Governor Ed Rendell of Pennsylvania delivered the commencement address at Susquehanna University where our future son-in-law, Josiah Ramsey, graduated this spring with both my daughter Kristyn and my wife Jeanette in attendance.

Journalists and media celebrities were also popular, including: Nancy Grace, Brian Williams, Cokie Roberts, Carl Bernstein, Chris Matthews, Tavis Smiley, and of course Oprah Winfrey.

Presidents, both former and the current office-holder, are always

a good choice.  Former presidents, George H. W. Bush and Bill Clinton, each spoke at commencements this spring; Bush at Bryant University and Clinton at UCLA.  And President George W. Bush actually double-dipped this year, speaking at both Furman University and also the United States Air Force Academy.

Continuing in that same vein, lawyers and judges are another popular choice.  Among this year’s speakers were Harvard Law School professor Alan Dershowitz, former Supreme Court justice Sandra Day O’Connor, and current justice Clarence Thomas.

You also had some actors (Matthew Modine, Jessica Lange, Chuck Norris, and Cicely Tyson), and even a couple of comedians (Bill Cosby and Robert Klein).

The real surprise for me, however, was the number of commencement speakers with ties to major league baseball.  Why?  I have no idea.  But I counted no fewer than six, including baseball commissioner Bud Selig, former Dodger’s manager Tommy Lasorda, Hall of Famer Cal Ripken, Jr. and also three broadcasters: Joe Buck, Vin Scully, and Joe Garagiola.  I can’t help but imagining that their speeches started out with something like, “Dear Graduates of 2008… life is like a game of baseball.”

Now some choices were obvious, like Cardinal Theodore McCarrick speaking at Notre Dame, or football great Dan Marino addressing graduates at his alma mater, the University of Pittsburgh.  Others must have been interesting, like having both James Carville and his wife Mary Matalin at Tulane.

But some were, at best, curious, and, at worst, simply bizarre.  William Gates Sr., for instance, the father of Microsoft founder and “gazillionaire” Bill Gates, was this year’s speaker at Whitman College.  What was the title of his speech? “How to raise a son who dropped out of college before graduating and became the world’s richest man?”

Then there was Bill Nye, the “science guy” of public broadcasting fame.  He spoke this year at both Harvey Mudd College (wherever that is!) and also the prestigious Johns Hopkins.  But what did he do for the graduates?  Some science experiments?

Finally, the speaker this spring at the Law School of Northwestern University in Chicago, which I’m sure – absolutely positive – could have had its pick of well-respected jurists, or famous attorneys?  They, instead, chose tabloid talk show host Jerry Springer!  Now I know why he probably accepted their invitation.  I bet he was there to recruit future legal representation for all the law suits he must face on his show every year.  But why did they pick him?  (I read that the students actually petitioned to stop him, but were overruled.)

And what is it exactly that these commencement speakers actually talk about?  As you might imagine, these famous and highly successful individuals are undoubtedly invited for the simple reason, and with the sincere hope I’m sure, that they might share some “pearls of wisdom” or “kernels of great truth” with the graduates; important, timely, and down-to-earth advice for those entering the so-called “real world.”

So, I also took a moment to read some of the more memorable commencement speeches of the recent past.  Widely circulating on the Internet, for example, is a commencement address attributed to Kurt Vonnegut supposedly delivered to the graduates of MIT back in 1997.  Certainly a writer of his stature would have something profound to say, you would think…  It begins, however, “Ladies and gentleman of the Class of ’97:  Wear sunscreen.  If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it.  The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience…”

Now, as it turns out, Kurt Vonnegut did not address the MIT graduates back in 1997, nor did he even write this speech.  It turns out that it was actually just a newspaper column written that spring by Chicago Tribune writer Mary Schmich.  As is often the case, the attachment of a famous name fueled the piece’s popularity, especially giving it a “life of its own” on the Internet.

Interestingly enough, though, Ted Turner did say something very similar while addressing Georgia State’s graduates three years earlier.  Turner, then facing a skin cancer operation, told them: “The one piece of advice I can give you is put on some sunscreen and wear a hat.”

Good, practical advice?  Without a doubt.  But profound?  Hardly.

I also came across the commencement address delivered by the Pulitzer Prize-winning writer, Russell Baker, which he gave to the 1995 graduating class at Connecticut College in New Haven.  After a few introductory remarks he said, “All right, let’s plunge right ahead into the dull part.  That’s the part where the commencement speaker tells the graduates to go forth into the world, then gives them advice on what to do when they get out there.  This is a ridiculous waste of time.  The graduates never take the advice, as I have learned from long experience.  The best advice I can give anybody about going out into the world is this:  Don’t do it.  I have been out there.  It is a mess.”

Since, as he noted, graduates never take his advice, Baker went on to say: “So I will not waste my breath today pleading with you not to go forth.  Instead I limit myself to a simple plea:  When you get out there in the world, try not to make it any worse than it already is…”  And then he offered his list of “10 things to help you avoid making the world worse than it already is” which I will spare you this morning.  But suffice it to say, they were not very profound either, nor especially practical.

Finally, there was the talk given by Apple Computer founder and CEO, Steve Jobs, delivered at Stanford University in 2005.  It’s actually quite good.  You can find both the text of his speech as well as the You Tube video online.  Like fellow computer mogul and rival, Bill Gates, Steve Jobs also did not finish college.  In his address at Stanford, in fact, he began by saying, “I never graduated from college.  Truth be told, this is the closest I’ve ever gotten to a college graduation.”

And then, in a speech that I found to be both very down-to-earth and humble as well, Jobs goes on to say something very profound, I think.  At the end of one of the three stories from his life that he chose to share with the graduates that day, he observed: “You can’t connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future.  You have to trust in something…”

The story from his life that Steve Jobs was referring to here was how he had dropped out of Reed College after only six months, but then hung around for another year-and-a-half “dropping in” on classes that interested him, including a calligraphy class.  At the time, studying calligraphy did not appear to have any practical application in his life.  But ten years later, when they were designing the first Macintosh computer, it all came back to him.  So they created that first computer with beautiful typography and multiple typefaces and proportionally spaced fonts.  And since Windows just copied the Mac, it’s quite likely that no computer would have had them otherwise.

In other words, if he had never dropped out, he never would have dropped in to that calligraphy class.  And if he had never dropped in to that calligraphy class, today personal computers might not have the beautiful typography that they do.  Of course, as he notes, it was impossible to connect the dots looking forward when he was in college.  But it was very, very clear looking backwards ten years later.  That is, it only made sense, and you could only see the connections, after the fact.

So, keeping this in mind, let’s finally turn now to this morning’s gospel reading.  The verses we listened to represent the final, concluding section of Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount, which runs from the beginning of chapter five through the end of chapter seven in Matthew’s Gospel.  The Sermon on the Mount, of course, is a compilation of some of Jesus’ core teachings; in particular, a collection of sayings and illustrations to help his followers understand the practical applications, and implications, of the Christian life.

Among the more memorable sections in the Sermon on the Mount are the Beatitudes; the relationship of Jesus’ message to the Jewish law; teachings in everyday piety, including the Lord’s Prayer and sayings about earthly treasures; and finally some illustrations of the practical aspects of Jesus’ message, including the Golden Rule.

But now we’re at the end of Jesus’ course on Christian living, so to speak.  And, before us, we have some parting words of advice.  In a way, if the Sermon on the Mount can be seen as a course of study for Jesus’ disciples or students, then perhaps today’s lesson can be viewed as his “commencement address” to them.

Now in the Gospel of John, of course, we actually have Jesus’ “farewell discourse,” given on Maundy Thursday before going out to the Garden of Gethsemane with his disciples, which is, in fact, a full-blown speech.  The other three gospels, however, do not really have anything comparable.  Although, as I say, today’s reading (apart from its being rather short in length) does have the “feel” of a commencement address to it.

And interestingly enough, it actually begins with a bit of a warning.  Having taken the time to patiently walk his disciples through the expectations of the Christian life, the “do’s” and “don’ts” if you will, Jesus’ parting words offer a piece of practical, down-to-earth advice.  Now don’t forget, he says, “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father in heaven.”  Jesus immediately goes on to add, “On that day many will say to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out demons in your name, and do many deeds of power in your name?”

Notice the difference here between the two verses; subtle perhaps, but a difference nonetheless.  Look at your bulletins.  Notice two words: “does,” as in “does the will of my Father,” and, then later, “do,” as in “did we not… do many deeds of power in your name.  You see, it’s the difference between a continuous or repeated action, implied by the word “does,” on the one hand, and isolated deeds that occurred sometime in the past, implied by the word “do,” on the other.

Or as Brian Stoffregen writes, “This suggests that the ‘doing’ is more a way of life rather than an isolated deed.  The ‘isolated deed’… is when those seeking to enter the kingdom of heaven tell the Lord about the many deeds of power they had done. They look back to what they had done sometime in the past (prophesied, cast out demons, did powerful deeds).”  Instead, writes Stoffregen, “All of us need to look at what we are doing now; not (at) what we might have done…”

Having established, then, that true discipleship is really about a “way of life,” and not just a collection or a series of good deeds or powerful actions, Jesus goes on to illustrate and reinforce his point with the parable of the wise and foolish builders.

Everyone who not only hears his words and teachings, but actually goes out and acts on them is like the wise man, said Jesus, “who built his house on rock.”  And everyone who hears these words and teachings, but fails to act on them will be like the foolish man who built his house on sand.  In each case, the rains fell, the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on their homes.  That is, the storms of life, the problems and challenges and difficulties of life came to both men equally.

But in the case of the wise builder, despite these storms, the house did not fall because, since it was built on rock and it had a solid foundation.  In the case of the foolish builder, however, his house fell and was swept away because there was no strong foundation.

I remember back when we were having our house built up in Pennsylvania.  Our sub-division was located on the side of a hill that had once been a pasture and, underneath the topsoil, it was nothing but solid rock.  The builder, in fact, actually had to blast into the hillside in order to break up that rock to be able to dig the basements and put in the foundations.

And, because we were on the side of a hill, this meant (for those

on our side of the street, at least) that there was a little bit of a downward slope between the street and the house.  It didn’t matter to us, but neighbors several doors down, however, wanted their front yard to be level with the street.  So rather than putting the foundation right on top of the rock, they instead had the builder bring in truckloads of earth to raise the level of the foundation to the necessary height.  However, this also meant that the foundation was no longer sitting right on top of that rocky hillside, but now was sitting on all those truckloads of dirt.  And you can probably guess what happened next.  As the ground that the house was built on began to shift and settle over time, it put all kinds of pressure and stress on the foundation, and then severe cracks began to appear and groundwater began to leak into the basement.

Whereas our foundation, sitting right on top of all that rock, never budged, and our basement stayed dry as a bone.  The houses were almost identical; same builder, same construction, even the same model, I think.  The one and only difference between them… was the foundation they were built on.

The lesson, then, is clear.  All these teachings that Jesus has just shared with his followers – Discipleship 101, if you will – are not simply a collection of things “to do,” or “not-to-do” in isolation.  Rather, if taken together and if one strives to accomplish them day by day, they were intended by Jesus to form the very foundation of the Christian life.  In the end, we are only saved by God’s grace, it’s true.  But the one who accepts that gift of grace, as well as the gift of the Holy Spirit working in his or her life, and who then follows these teachings, will discover the kind of rewarding and fulfilling life – in the here and now – that God hopes and intends for all of us; the so-called “abundant life,” that Jesus refers to in the Gospel of John.

Jesus’ followers have now completed the education contained in the Sermon on the Mount.  Today is graduation day.  And before he sends them out into the world, Jesus offered them this final bit of advice.

And here’s the thing (as well as the relevance of that commencement address given by Steve Jobs I spoke of earlier): You can’t connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. In other words, all the teachings and practical advice that Jesus gives us in his Sermon on the Mount don’t always seem to be directly connected to each other, or to form a coherent whole.  In some ways, the materials in these three chapters of Matthew feel, at times, like they’re dis-connected and random, kind of “all over the place.”

It will only be later, at the end of our lives, as we prepare – by God’s grace – to move on to the next life, that we’ll actually be able to look back, and connect the dots, and say, “Oh, now I see, now I get it.”  That’s why it was so important to hunger and thirst for righteousness, to follow the commandments, to love my neighbor and forgive my enemy, to pray and give alms and not worry about life, to avoid judging others, and to do unto others as you would have them do unto you.  Now it all finally makes some sense, we’ll say.  Now all the random dots are finally connected.

In the meantime, however – as we live day by day in the present – all we can do is simply trust in Jesus, and trust in the teachings of his Sermon on the Mount…

The story is told of a wealthy man who laid a set of blueprints in front of his top assistant and told him, “I’m leaving on an extended trip, and I want you to build a house for me on that location above the lake I showed you recently.  I’ll be gone about ten months.  Here are the plans, and the specs, and the funds to cover the cost.  Have it finished by the time I return.  And I’ll see you then”

Well, despite years of faithful service, this longtime employee immediately saw an opportunity to feather his own nest, so to speak.  So he hired a crooked contractor, employed unskilled labor whenever possible, and put cheap, inferior materials into the building.  When it was finished, it was magnificent looking, but it was really a poorly constructed, flimsy shell.

When the man returned from his trip, he went out with his assistant to see this beautiful new home overlooking the lake.  And the man said to his assistant, “What do you think of it?”  And his employee replied, “I think it’s wonderful.”

“I’m glad you like it,” said the wealthy man.  “You see, I’m retiring from business soon, and I won’t need your services much longer.  But I wanted to reward you for all your faithful years in my employment.  So this house is my gift to you.”

Well… in the very same way, the teachings of the Sermon on the Mount are not about the things we do for God…  They’re really all about the blessings we receive from God when we build our lives on his strong foundation.

Amen

 

The Greatest Job On Earth

THE HOLY TRINITY 

(Matthew 28:16-20)

In the days before it came under Communist rule, the board of directors of a large American company wanted to find a well-qualified man to handle their business interests in China.  He not only had to have the ability to speak the language, but he also had to be familiar with their customs as well.  Furthermore, the position required tact, a strong personality, and superior administrative skills and ability.  And for all of this, they were willing to pay a handsome salary.

One of the directors immediately spoke up.  “I know just the man we’re looking for,” he said.  “In fact, he’s already in China.  He knows their customs and he speaks their language fluently.  His present salary is only $600 a year, which isn’t his fault, but the fault of those employing him.

And so the directors voted to authorize this board member to immediately locate and personally interview this highly recommended and highly qualified candidate, and to hire him and even, if necessary, offer him a salary as high as $20,000 a year – an unheard of sum in those days.

After some months of searching, the director finally located this man, a missionary, in a remote area of China’s interior.  He told the man of the board’s offer and informed him of how eager the firm was to secure his services.  Then he asked the missionary, would he be willing to accept the position for a salary of $10,000?

The missionary shook his head, “no.”

“Well, then, would $12,000 be high enough?” the director countered.  Again, the missionary declined.

“I’ve come a long way,” said the American businessman, “and I don’t want to go back without some positive news.  Will you accept the position for $15,000?”  Once again, however, the missionary declined

“We have no other person in mind,” pleaded the businessman.  “Would you accept a salary of $20,000?”  But the missionary responded with a decisive and final, “No!”

“Why not?” asked the member of the board of directors.  “Isn’t the salary big enough?”  The missionary replied, “To be sure it is,” he said.  “In fact, the salary is far larger than the work would actually justify.  The trouble, you see, is not with the salary… but with the job.  The job isn’t big enough!  Proclaiming the Gospel, on the other hand… is the greatest job on earth!”

The greatest job on earth…  This past week I attended our daughter Sarah’s baccalaureate service and then, a few days later, her graduation from Parkview High School.  And I listened to a number of excellent speeches talking optimistically about the bright and exciting futures facing these 2008 graduates.  Parkview, as you may know, is the self-proclaimed “greatest school” in America.  And while humility may not be one of their attributes, Parkview’s faculty and students and alumni certainly do have a lot to be proud of.

It is no exaggeration to suggest that there are future scientists, engineers, lawyers, doctors, as well as future leaders of government and business among the ranks of those approximately 600 graduates; the movers and shakers of the next generation, both here in metro-Atlanta and probably throughout the country as well.  A significant percentage of them will undoubtedly go on to high-profile and even lucrative careers.  And many of them will seek after, and perhaps even secure, some of the so-called “greatest jobs on earth.”

But I am here to tell you this morning that none of these jobs – as high-profile and as lucrative as they may turn out to be – can make the claim of being the greatest job on earth…  You see, the missionary was right – there is no better job, or more significant job on earth – for a Christian at least – than proclaiming the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

Moreover, it is a job that is not limited to a select and privileged few – as many of the other claimants to the title “greatest job on earth” are.  Rather, proclaiming the Gospel is the primary vocation of each and every Christian, whoever they are and wherever they may come from; a calling that is inherent in our baptism; a calling that can and must be pursued, regardless of the job that actually puts food on our table and a roof over our heads.  In other words, no matter what career or profession a Christian may pursue in his or her life, proclaiming the Gospel remains our one and true calling.

In the end, if you’re a Christian, it doesn’t really matter what you did for a living, or how much success you achieved, or how much money you earned, or how many awards you won.  All that really matters in the end is – did you proclaim the Gospel?  Did you, in fact, go and make disciples, as Jesus commanded you?

Today’s reading from Matthew is probably one of the most memorable passages of scripture.  In these five short verses, Jesus lays out for us the entire mission and ministry of the Church; the whole reason for its existence.  In other words, if the Church isn’t following this command, if individual Christians aren’t pursuing this calling, then they are not who they claim to be.  These five short verses, then, serve as the litmus test of the Christian faith and life.

But sometimes, as Richard Carlson, Professor of Homiletics at Gettysburg Seminary has noted, “you’re got to wonder what Jesus is thinking.” Now Jesus does seem a little optimistic here, when you stop and consider for a moment what he’s saying.  I mean, really, did Jesus actually think that his followers would be able to go and do what he commanded them?

Carlson then goes on to observe that the Great Commission, from a realistic perspective at least, is a “recipe for disaster.”  It certainly doesn’t reflect the efforts of someone who has done any market research, or who knows what will and won’t sell to the general consumer, he says.

The first problem, according to Carlson, is a mediocre sales force, and one that is under-staffed as well.  The abilities, or shall we

say inabilities of the disciples, of course, are well documented in scripture.  Furthermore, our text tells us that only eleven disciples had journeyed to Galilee, and to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them.  Judas, of course, was no longer with them, which meant that Jesus had already lost 8.3% of his personnel before he had even started!

And when the eleven saw him, we are told, “they worshiped him; but some doubted.”  Mark Allan Powell writes in his book Loving Jesus, “…I want to note that the word some is not actually found in the Greek Bible.  Why is it in the English version?  Well, Matthew uses a particular construction here that allows translators to think that the word some could be implied.  He also uses that construction in seventeen other instances, though no one ever seems to think the word is implied in those cases.  It could be implied here, but why would it be?  I asked a Bible translator that question one time,” writes Powell, “and (I) got the following response: ‘The verse wouldn’t make sense otherwise.’  (So) I invited this fellow to visit a Lutheran Church.  (Worship and doubt simultaneously?) We (Lutherans) do it all the time.”

But Powell also goes on to point out that “doubt” in connection with our faith and worship is not necessarily bad.  To illustrate, he reminds us that the one thing the Pharisees in the Bible never did was doubt. They were always absolutely certain about everything.  “They are the ‘God said it, I believe it, that settles it” people of the Bible,” he writes.  “It never occurs to them that they might have overlooked something or misunderstood something.  As a result, they are often wrong, but they are never in doubt.”

“It might be going too far to say that doubt is a good thing,” concedes Powell, “but… Jesus never rebukes anyone for it.”  Doubt, he suggests “seasons” worship.  “…worship without doubt can be self-assured and superficial.”  But worship with doubt can “keep us grounded in reality.”

However, “doubt” is not normally included in the list of top characteristics sought after by successful organizations, is it?  The one theme I kept hearing from Parkview’s faculty, administrators, and highest-ranking students this past week was the need, instead, for confidence.  They urged the graduates to “believe in themselves.”

Nevertheless, Jesus seems content here to go with people who have some doubts.  As counter-intuitive as it sounds, he’s entrusting his entire mission, as Richard Carlson puts it, to “worshipful doubters.”

Now common sense would dictate that Jesus “dump” such doubters, and re-tool his organization with a crack team of the “best and brightest.”  Instead, he appears perfectly willing to waste his time with an unremarkable collection of the “least and mediocre.”

The next problem, suggests Carlson, is that Jesus’ marketing strategy is simply not doable. Go everywhere?  Make disciples of all nations?  That’s unrealistic and a needless drain of resources.  The goals of the mission need to be more focused and defined.  Otherwise there is very little chance for success.

And to whom is Jesus sending them?  Anybody?  Everybody?  No boundaries, no target audience, no market share formula?  What kind of sense does that make?

Finally, what is the ultimate outcome Jesus is looking for here?

Baptize and teach?  To what end?  For what purpose?  What is this “discipleship” thing all about?

Membership we understand.  Membership we can do.  Sign ‘em up, get their pledge, stick ‘em on a committee, and if you see they can’t say “no” then elect them to council.  But make disciples?  What’s that?

It turns out, of course, that it’s about a lifestyle, not an affiliation; a way of living, instead of merely belonging.  It’s about following the One who is the “way and the truth and the life”; the One who came to show us the way back home to the Father.

Teach them “to obey everything that I have commanded you,” said Jesus.  As Brian Stoffregen has pointed out, the word “obey” here can also mean to “keep” as in “to make into a keepsake,” or “to consider important,” rather than to just blindly obey.  Jesus isn’t looking for blind obedience here, he is hoping that people will cherish and embrace and embody his teachings.

And, once again, it doesn’t matter who you are or where you came from.  It doesn’t matter what you’ve done in your life, or haven’t done.  It doesn’t matter if you’ve made mistakes, or were too timid to even risk making any at all.  Everyone has been called to be a disciple of Jesus Christ.  And everyone who has become his disciple is then sent out into the world – even our own little corner of the world – to proclaim the Gospel and to make new disciples.

That’s who we are.  That’s what we’re about.  There are a lot of great jobs on this earth; some that even come with great rewards and honors and compensation.  But there is no bigger job, no greater job, no more important job, than proclaiming the Gospel of Jesus Christ; to actually go and make disciples, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to cherish and to embrace and to embody everything Jesus has commanded us…

It has been said that the average person knows about 250 people; some more, some less.  And among those 250 people we know, there is undoubtedly someone who does not presently have a church home or a faith connection.  So if each member of All Saints, for instance, invited and then brought at least one person to our worship service, this church would be overflowing with guests and visitors.  And we would also be well on our way to fulfilling the Great Commission.

Edward Markquart, a Lutheran pastor out in Seattle, tells the story of once meeting the pastor of the fastest growing Lutheran church in the country.  And so he asked this pastor how it happened.  That is, how had they, in fact, become the fastest growing Lutheran church in the U.S.?

And it turns out that it was really quite simple, although perhaps not easy, especially for Lutherans.  But what had happened, you see, is that all the members of his church had caught the vision that they were each to bring at least one friend to church a year, all of them, no exceptions.  This pastor said that the most important thing that happened in his parish was the miracle of people catching the vision of bringing at least one friend to church during the year.

No hassling.  No arm twisting.  No false bribes.  No TV sets for the person who brought the most.  And he, the pastor, was like all the laity.  He, too, would bring at least one friend.  And the result was overwhelming.  These people have gone through a “paradigm shift,” writes Markquart.  They now see themselves as being evangelists; they have caught the vision of Jesus Christ.  In short, they now see and believe that proclaiming the Gospel is indeed “the greatest job on earth.”

Pastor Markquart also tells the story of once going on a trip to the Holy Land with members of his congregation years ago.  The trip was called “The Land of Jesus and the Cities of Paul.”  First, they experienced the places where Jesus himself had walked and talked.  Then, they had boarded a cruise ship and visited the cities in the Mediterranean where Paul had gone on his missionary journeys.

Now there were about 500 people on that ship, from all over the United States, but only one person that he didn’t like.  Normally, writes Markquart, I like all people.  But instinctively, he felt an immediate dislike for this one particular passenger, in spite of the fact that the man wore a clergy collar, and was obviously a pastor.

Several days later, he finally discovered who this man was.  His last name was Wurmbrand, and he was from Romania where he had been a victim of Communist torture.  In Markquart’s opinion, this Romanian pastor seemed to relish reliving and retelling the horror stories of being tortured for Christ in the Communist camps.

Apparently he liked to corner people in small groups, where they couldn’t get away, and then he would share his ugly tales that made even those with the strongest constitutions squeamish.

So he didn’t like this Wurmbrand, even though he had never met him, and he had managed to avoid him until one night, he and his wife found themselves sharing a table with him at dinner.  Two of Markquart’s parishioners, Orlie and LaVonne Swanson were also at the same dinner table that night.

Much to his surprise, however, he found the Romanian pastor to be witty and charming and intelligent as he told delightful stories that were not so squeamish after all.  In fact, he was perfectly delightful until, at the end of dinner, he leaned over to Orlie Swanson and asked, “Is that pastor over there (referring to Markquart) a good pastor?”  Orlie answered, “yes.”

Then Wurmbrand asked another question.  “Why is he a good pastor?”  And Orlie responded, “Well, he makes good sermons.”

Upon hearing this Wurmbrand focused his eyes on Pastor Markquart and then asked Orlie, not looking at Orlie but looking directly at Markquart, “But does he make good disciples?”

“In that moment,” writes Markquart, “there was a pause, a flash of embarrassment, and a little dagger went into my soul.  He didn’t say it, but he could have said that the purpose of the church is not to make good sermons, or good music, or good youth programs, or good sanctuaries.  But the purpose of the church is to make disciples of Jesus Christ…

“In that moment,” says Markquart, “(he) was the angel of the Lord to me…  He is still God’s messenger to me.  The purpose of God for all pastors and in all sermons is to make disciples of Jesus Christ.  People who love Jesus Christ, who follow Jesus Christ, who call Jesus Christ their Lord.  That is what we are all called to (do): to make disciples of Jesus Christ.  Not make church members.  Not make Sunday schools.  Not make buildings.  These can all become ends in themselves.  We are to make disciples of Jesus Christ.  That is what it’s all about,” writes Markquart.  And Wurmbrand, the Romanian pastor who had once been tortured for that same Jesus Christ, understood that better than anyone.

We live in a world, and in a society, that frequently attempts to identify just what among us is the greatest; the greatest school, the greatest country, the greatest movie, the greatest artist or musician.  And normally I’m bothered by it.  I personally don’t like to refer to anything as “the greatest.”  But with one exception.  Like that missionary, many years ago, I can’t help but conclude that proclaiming the Gospel is, in fact, the greatest job on earth.  And what’s more – the job is ours!

Amen

 

It’s Not A Birth Until There’s Breath (05/11/08)

THE DAY OF PENTECOST:

It’s Not A Birth Until There’s Breath

(Acts 2:1-21; I Corinthians 12:3-13; John 20:19-23)

To the Moms in attendance here this morning: Happy Mother’s Day!  Of course I’m not a mother.  But do you remember those commercials on television a few years back?  The actor/spokesman would begin by saying, “I’m not a doctor, but I play one on TV.”  Well, as I said, I’m not a mother, but I was there when my wife Jeanette became one….  Now before you go thinking the wrong thing, I’m just talking about being in the delivery room here!

It was June of 1987.  Jeanette and I had been married for nearly seven years at that point and our parents (especially mine) were anxiously looking for grandchildren from us.  Especially what would be, in my parent’s case, their first grandchild.  But we had decided to wait until I had finished seminary, and more importantly had received a call.  In other words, making some money!

So there we were living in rural Kentucky when Jeanette got pregnant.  I still remember those days, just like they were yesterday.  I remember the bouts of morning sickness which afflicted Jeanette at any and all hours of the day and night.  I remember how, when it got really bad, the only thing she could keep down in her stomach was McDonald’s hamburgers and french fries…  Of course, being the ever dutiful husband, I would volunteer to make a Mickey D’s run whenever she needed one.  And I also remember that, the next time we went to her doctor for a check-up, Jeanette had gained 10 pounds, but I had gained 20!

I also remember the day that Jeanette informed me that her feet had disappeared, and I got all concerned until I realized that what she meant was that she couldn’t see them anymore.  And I remember the fashion-challenged maternity clothes, the back aches and swollen legs, her being constantly tired – as if some kind of parasite was growing inside of her and sucking every ounce of energy and nourishment out of her, which, in a manner of speaking, was what was actually happening, I guess.

I remember the mood swings, and the lack of patience, and, as her due date neared, the desire for it all to just be finally over with!  And, most of all, I remember thinking that I was glad it wasn’t me!  As my mother-in-law likes to say, and I wholeheartedly agree, “If men had to have the babies, there wouldn’t be any more children in this world.”  So my hat’s off to you, Moms, you deserve it!

Well, getting back to our own first experience with motherhood, I was serving two small congregations at that time, one in town and the other out in the country.  The town church had the early service on Sunday mornings so that the country church could then have the late service, which would allow the dairy farmers in the congregation (of which there were several) to get their milking done before going to church.

On this particular morning there had been a baptism at the late service (the little boy’s name was Adam Weiss), and afterwards his grandmother had invited us, along with the family, over to her house for dinner.  We then had an enjoyable time visiting with the Weiss clan, and when Jeanette I returned home later that afternoon we both laid down for naps, Jeanette upstairs in our bedroom, and me downstairs on the couch.

I remember that I was pretty tired and quickly fell into a rather deep sleep.  But then, suddenly, at one point I was awakened by a “thud” from upstairs, which my mind quickly concluded (even in its groggy state) was the sound of feet hitting the floor.  The thud was then quickly followed by frantic footsteps running across the second story of the parsonage in the direction of the bathroom.  Obviously it was Jeanette.  And I remember thinking to myself, “Boy she hasn’t moved that fast in, oh… about nine months now.”

Then it suddenly hit me.  Nine months?  Holy cow, this is it!  The baby is here!  And I ran up the stairs, taking three at a time, and found Jeanette in the bathroom.  “I think my water broke,” she said.  In retrospect, what other explanation could there have been.  But being first-timers at this, we still called the hospital anyway, and after listening to Jeanette’s description of what had just taken place, they told us to come on in.

Now we had taken the “healthy pregnancy” course over at the hospital, and we had our checklist ready and our bags packed, so to speak.  But I was running around mindlessly in a hundred different directions until Jeanette finally grabbed me by the arm, squeezed it, and said, “The contractions are coming closer now – GET ME TO THE HOSPITAL!”

So I did.  And just about an hour later, on June 28, 1987, a little after eight o’clock in the evening, Kristyn Marie Kropa was born.  For a small, rural, community hospital they were actually pretty advanced and sophisticated.  Labor and delivery both took place in what they called a “birthing room” which was decorated to look like your own bedroom at home, complete with tables and dressers and lamps and even a rocking chair.

And there were plenty of nurses available, as well.  One of them actually took our camera and snapped picture while I got to cut the umbilical cord and then gently place Kristyn in a warm LeBoyer bath.

But the moment I will always remember the most, the moment I will always cherish, the moment when it all suddenly became a reality for me, was when Kristyn took her first breaths… and then started to cry, that telltale bleat or whimper of a newborn.

Up until that very moment, you see, there were nine months of development and preparation and anticipation and excitement, but until she took those first breaths it was all just “potential” – that is to say, everything necessary for life was in place and had taken place – but only then was all that potential turned into reality. Only when our daughter took her first few breaths outside the womb was there a birth… of course, to be technical, a live birth.

You see, already at that point, early in my ministry, I had sat and listened as a parishioner painfully described for me (many years after it had taken place) how, during her first pregnancy, she had carried the baby to full term.  But then just a few days before she was due, she noticed that the baby had stopped moving and kicking inside of her.  And when she finally went into labor, sadly, her baby was stillborn.  In other words, there was no breath; no cries or whimpers; no life.  And the pain and the anguish she had felt at that moment had not dissipated very much in the three plus decades since.

That, of course, is both the mystery and the miracle of birth.  It’s not a birth, a live birth, until there’s breath.

I remember when Jeanette and I went through that healthy pregnancy course over at the hospital, the nurse who was leading it walked all of us expecting couples through the science of conception, and pregnancy, and birth, and so forth.  But a number of times during her presentations over those weeks she would say, in effect, “We know what happens here, at this stage in the baby’s development, but we don’t know exactly how it happens.”

And I remember thinking to myself, at the time, that with all of our sophisticated techniques, diagnostic equipment, and medical know-how, we still don’t fully understand, nor can we adequately explain, the miracle of birth and life.  Wonderfully (in my mind at least), there is still a degree of mystery.  To date, God has not fully divulged all the secrets of life to us, and, personally, I kind of like that…

But also, in over twenty years as a parish pastor, I have been there at the end of life as well; when the pulse and heart rate slow, and the breathing becomes weak and shallow, and then finally ceases.  One moment there is life… and breath, and in the very next moment, in a split second, that precious gift of life has suddenly slipped away.  And the only thing really missing was breath… the gentle rising and falling of the chest, the inhaling and exhaling of the lungs.  So if, in a real sense, life truly begins with that first breath, then it is also true that life ends with that final breath.  And then all those breaths in between, all the mysteries and miracles of what we call life, are a gift from God.

Well, believe it or not, it’s exactly the same in the church.  In today’s gospel, we heard that on Easter evening Jesus came and stood among his disciples.  At this point they were but a small and fearful group, huddled together behind locked doors.  But Jesus greeted them with the words, “Peace be with you.”  After he said this, he showed them the wounds in his hands and side so they would know that it was truly him.  Again, he said, “Peace be with you,” this time adding, “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.”

It was the first hint of that important mission he was about to give them, and to all who would follow after them.

And then he did something interesting.  He breathed on them, says today’s Gospel, and as he did so he said, “Receive the Holy Spirit.”

Now what’s so interesting here, fascinating really, is that in the biblical languages – both Hebrew and Greek – the words for “breath” and “spirit” are actually one in the same, and are often even used interchangeably.  So, biblically speaking at least, it only stands to reason that they would receive the Holy Spirit in this manner; by actually receiving “breath” itself from the mouth of God’s Son.

In fact, the same words can also be translated as “wind” or breeze” as well. For instance, in the very first verses of the Bible, in the book of Genesis, where it says, “In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep,” the next phrase, depending on the version you’re looking at, of course, is translated differently.  Most versions of the Bible say, “and the Spirit of God was moving over the face of the waters.”  But the NRSV, the New Revised Standard Version (which is the one we primarily use in the Lutheran church) says, “while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters.”  Again, “Spirit” and “wind” and “breath” are all variations of the same root word and mean essentially the very same thing…

However, the disciples, as we know, weren’t necessarily the most clever or observant fellows on the block.  So, maybe, that’s why there had to be another, more dramatic, reception of the Holy Spirit; one that was sure to “get their attention.”

Therefore, in a different version of the story, the one recorded in the book of Acts, Jesus, just before his ascension, ordered the disciples to stay and wait in Jerusalem until “the promise of the Father” was fulfilled.  And then Jesus explained this by saying to them, “…you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.”  Which, then, sets the stage for our first reading this morning…

It’s ten days after Jesus promised them the gift and the power of the Holy Spirit.  The disciples are once again together, this time in the same house getting ready to observe the day of Pentecost, which occurred seven weeks after the Passover and in Jewish tradition celebrated the giving of the Law.

Suddenly, however, there came a sound like the rush of a mighty, or violent, wind and it filled the entire house, we are told.  And in that very same moment the disciples were also filled with the Holy Spirit.  That is, the Holy Wind blew into their midst and gave them life.

Because immediately the disciples went out and were able to witness to the good news of Jesus Christ and to God’s deeds of power in a way that they never had before – especially by having the ability to speak that day to everyone in the crowd in each person’s native tongue.  It was in that very same moment that the disciples began to fulfill the vision and the mission Jesus had given to them; to be his witnesses… and to go out into the world making disciples of all nations.

In fact, it was in that very same moment that, we look back now and say, the Christian Church was actually born. It was in that moment when those first followers received the Holy Spirit, as that violent wind blew through their house, that they, too, received the breath of life.

In other words, just as it is at the arrival of a newborn baby, it’s not a birth until there’s breath…

The Rev. Robert Two Bulls, is an Episcopal priest and also a Lakota Indian, who lives and works in Los Angeles, California.

At one point, he was given a 1901 edition of the New Testament in the Dakota language; translated from the original Greek.

He writes about spending many hours pouring over the text, taking key words and translating then into English as well as comparing them to the original Greek.  “When the title, ‘The Holy Spirit,’” he notes, “was translated into the Lakota language, the translator, with the help of knowledgeable elders, came up with the words Woniya Wakan. The English translation for Woniya is ‘breath.’  When broken down further, niya means ‘to breathe,’ and wo, a prefix, signifies that the action is accomplished by blowing.  Woniya, then, is life, or that first breath we take when we come out of our mother’s womb.  Wakan means sacred, holy, or something incomprehensible having or giving, which means having an endowed spiritual power.  My mind can get around and understand the meaning of the Holy Spirit,” he writes, “perhaps just like my ancestors, who converted to Christianity, did.  The Word was spoken and the sacred breath of God came upon them and they had new life.”

That’s what took place on the Day of Pentecost.  The Holy Spirit, the breath of life, literally blew into the lives of a ragtag group of frightened disciples like a mighty wind, and gave them the power and the boldness to become witnesses of Jesus Christ to the ends of the earth.  With the gift of the Holy Spirit, they were indeed “born again,” born a second time – this time outside their mother’s womb.  With the gift of the Holy Spirit they had new life, and they now lived and breathed on their own.

Their time with Jesus was sort of like being in the womb, you might say.  They were attached to him as closely as a human fetus is attached to its mother by the umbilical cord.  In other words, up until this point they couldn’t really live or do anything by themselves, or on their own.  And the Gospels are certainly full of examples proving that this was the case.

But then Jesus left them, their resurrected Lord had rejoined the Father, and that cord had been cut.  However, he had not abandoned them for now, on Pentecost, they had received the Holy Spirit, they had received the breath of life, and, what’s more… they could actually begin to breathe on their own. And, as we heard, with the very first breaths out of their mouths they began to testify to God’s deeds of power, especially those in and through Jesus Christ.

Before this, before the Holy Spirit, they could only remain huddled together in an upstairs room (which interestingly enough rhymes with womb, for that is exactly, again, what it was for them).  They had neither the power, nor the boldness, nor the inclination to go out into the world to do anything, let alone proclaim the gospel as Jesus had assured them they would.  At this point, just like a baby still in the womb, they were all about “potential,” but not yet a “reality.”  Again… it’s not a birth until there’s breath.

But then, on Pentecost of course, that potential turned into reality. Everything necessary for their life as the church was in place, and had taken place.  For two whole years, remember, they had walked with Jesus and had absorbed his teachings; learning at the feet of the master, as they say.  It was the “gestational” period, if you will, for the church.  But only when the Holy Spirit, the Holy Wind, the Holy Breath had come upon them was there a birth; the birth of the church.

And the church, even today, cannot exist apart from the Holy Spirit, the breath of life.  For when the church loses the Holy Spirit, when the church – any church – ignores, or turns away from  the power of the Spirit working in their midst, calling them to be witnesses of the Lord Jesus Christ, and sending them out into the world to make disciples, then that church ceases to be the church.  It is, in fact, spiritually dead.  There is no more life, no more breath.

In spite of all of our sophisticated theologies and practical know-how, the fact remains that the life of the church is also a mystery and a miracle.  And apart from God, apart from the Holy Spirit, there can be no church.

Now some would say that many of the churches in our day are already spiritually dead.  Or at least close to it.  The mainline denominations, including the Lutheran Church, are certainly declining in numbers, and apparently in passion and energy as well.  Their pulse and heart rate are dangerously low.  Their breathing seem shallow and labored.

So some of these same people would also say that what we need today is a “Second Reformation” to recover our past and our purpose in order to turn things around.  But after studying today’s lessons, however, I’m not so sure.  I’m not so sure that a Second Reformation is enough.  What we really need, perhaps, is a second Pentecost. Because without the Holy Spirit, the breath of life, there is no church.  Nor can there ever be one …

Amen