Sunday, July 28, 2019 – Pentecost 7

Pentecost 7 2019

Our Savior’s La Crosse

Luke 11:1-10

We need God.

Let’s be honest with ourselves; our need for God brings us to church week after week, for some of us year after year.

Notice what I am NOT saying. I am not saying “I need God.”

I am making a corporate statement. I am naming the needs of the community.

We need God.

When the disciples asked Jesus to teach them to pray, Jesus didn’t teach them a prayer to use in private moments. Jesus did not teach them a prayer for individual supplication. Jesus taught them a prayer for them to pray together.

“Our Father…”

I know, in Luke the reading begins simply with “Father” (Luke 11:2). But there is a footnote added to scholarly texts, noting that “Ancient authorities read “Our Father in heaven” (NRSV).

“Our Father…”

I don’t often use gender specific language for God, but I cannot escape it here. Jesus is being quite specific with his word “Abba.”

“Our Father…”

Our God.

In our prayer we as a community ask for three things:

That God give us each day our daily bread (Luke 11:3).

That God forgive us our sins (Luke 11:4)

That God not bring us to the time of trial (Luke 11:4), aka lead us not into temptation.

We ask for bread to eat. We ask for forgiveness. We ask for deliverance from evil.

We ask together. We ask as a community when we pray “Our Father.”

When I take communion to people who have memory loss, I am never surprised by their memories of our words of corporate confession, and I am never surprised when they join with me, word for word, as we say the Lord’s Prayer together. If we say those words often enough, they become a part of who we are, as if they are tattooed on our hearts.

“Our Father, who art in heaven… hallowed be thy name.”

Our God, your name has been sanctified. Our God, your name has been made holy.

God’s name is holy here, in this community as we gather… as we pray. Just as God’s name is holy in every community of faith around the world as they pray the words we have all been taught to pray: Our Father…

Think about this:

The kingdom, the power and the glory are God’s!

Our prayer is a declaration as much as it is a request.

All of this… all of this is yours, God.

You have power in our lives, God.

To you is the glory, now and forever, Abba.

We need God. We know we need God.

This community of faith is built on our knowing that we need God.

This community of faith is built on our knowing that we need God to provide daily bread, not just for us but for all people.

This community of faith is built on our knowing that we need God to forgive us our sins, not just today but every day of our lives.

This community of God is built on our knowing that we need God to turn us toward God, to turn our hearts and minds toward God; we need God to deliver us from evil.

Now think about this:

The Lord’s Prayer might be one of the only things we have in common with every person who ever has, who ever does, whoever will know themselves as followers of Jesus. There are so many traditions associated with Christianity that are variable—we sing different songs, we dance or we don’t, we sit and stand or just sit or just stand, we read scriptures that have been translated by different scholars to mean different things, we focus on different aspects of scripture, we have different understandings of who God was and is and will be, we even share communion according to our traditions and cultures. But the Lord’s Prayer has a basic framework that is common to us all. We may or may not end it in the same place and we may or may not use contemporary forms. But the claims and the requests and the corporate character of the prayer has been, is, and always will be the same.

The Lord’s Prayer ties us to other believers more than just about any other aspect of our faith.

Which makes the words of the prayer sacred. The words of our prayer are holy.

The words of the prayer Jesus taught his disciples are a sacred gift given to us all.

And so I pray:

Abba, thank you for teaching us to pray.

Amen.

Sunday, July 21, 2019 – Pentecost 6

Pentecost 6 2019

Our Savior’s La Crosse

Luke 10:38-42

 

She was one of my favorite people. She was an excellent writer, she had an incredible sense of humor, and she loved God. Sometimes she and I would go for walks together, telling stories and laughing.

One evening she invited a group of people to her home, including me. We had a wonderful meal, wonderful conversations flowed around the table. My only sadness was—and please note I am not saying it was a mistake or a problem, I’m saying it was a sadness—the hostess that evening, who cleaned the house and prepared the meal and set the table, did not set a place for herself at the table. She was back and forth between the dining room and the kitchen, serving the rest of us. She made each one of us feel like what we were: her special guests. And I know, it was her choice to do that. But, the truth is, as much as I appreciated all of her efforts, I missed having her at the table.

Now, imagine one of us having Jesus over for supper!

Imagine the weeks of preparation we would put ourselves through. I would be weeding the gardens in case he goes outside. I would Wash floors, wash windows, clean tables, wash tablecloths… I would dust! I would sweep the driveway and mow the yard.

Then– planning the menu! What would I serve Jesus? Would I place a loaf of bread and a fish on the table and wait for him to perform a miracle?? Would I serve a pitcher of water, knowing he could turn it into wine, saving me a few bucks? Would I fix dessert?

In our gospel reading, when Jesus arrived for dinner Martha was busy with all of the tasks one engages in when someone is coming. And, as a person with two sisters, I’m saying, doesn’t it just figure—her sister Mary wasn’t helping. At all. Mary sat herself down at Jesus’ feet and listened. Martha complained.

If I was Martha, I would have complained.

Last week I talked about “behaving ourselves into love” (Berkey-Abbott, “Reflections on the Lectionary” in the Christian Century, July 3, 2019, p. 18), suggesting gratitude be an alternative to rage or frustration.

With that in mind, I’m wondering what Martha might have been grateful for, and if gratitude might have changed the choices she made when Jesus entered her home.

If Martha welcomed Jesus with gratitude she might have been giving thanks for his decision to enter her home. And perhaps she did.

If Martha welcomed Jesus with gratitude she might have been grateful Mary was there to listen to Jesus while Martha worked.

If Martha welcomed Jesus with gratitude I don’t think she would have said “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her then to help me” (Luke 10:40b).

The author of the commentary I used as a source for my sermon last week wrote in her commentary for this week: We often get so consumed by the chores of daily life that we neglect to notice the sacred in our midst” (Berkey-Abbott, “Reflections on the Lectionary, in the Christian Century, July 3, 2019, p. 19).

Where is the love?

I read something interesting two weeks ago. R. Alan Culpepper wrote

“Neither the story of the good Samaritan nor the story of Mary and Martha  is complete without the other. Each makes its own point—the Samaritan loves his neighbor, and Mary loves her Lord—but the model for the disciple is found in the juxtaposition of the two. To the lawyer Jesus says, ‘Go and do,’ but he praises Mary for sitting and listening. The life of a disciple  requires both” (Luke 10:38-42 “Reflections” in The New Interpreter’s Bible,       vol. 9, p. 232).

We are called to do both.

There are times meant for being busy, meant for chores and doing and “acting ourselves into love” (Berkey Abbott ibid p. 18)

There are times when we need to stop, when we need to listen, when we need to make ourselves aware of the sacred in our midst.

Discerning which time is when is the challenge.

I have decided the best way to meet that challenge is to begin with gratitude.

I have been determined to meet moments with gratitude this past week. And, although I haven’t been perfect at it, this new discipline has helped me.

I am grateful for friends who have made or do make or will make me laugh. I am grateful for meals shared with others. I am grateful for my sisters, who I love. I am grateful for each of you as we begin our third year with me as your pastor. I am grateful for the call we have received to love one another and the ministry we do in God’s name. I am grateful for this day, for this morning, for this time to worship and to share a meal together.

Thanks be to God for all that has been; thanks be to God for all that is; thanks be to God for all that will be.

Amen.

Sunday, July 14, 2019 – Pentecost 5

Pentecost 5 2019

Our Savior’s La Crosse

Luke 10:25-37

“We might be startled to realize during the course of a day how often we feel more rage at our fellow humans than love” (Berkey-Abbot, Kristin, “Living By The Word” in “The Christian Century” July 3, 2019, p. 18).

I was reading a commentary on this morning’s text and I read those words and they’ve stuck with me all week:

“We might be startled to realize during the course of a day how often we feel more rage at our fellow humans than love.”

Rage.

I stopped at Festival to buy chicken wings because I wanted to cook them for the Dorcas potluck. When I came out of the store a truck had been parked behind mine, its front bumper only inches from my back bumper. From a distance, it looks like the two bumpers were touching. I felt something resembling rage as I walked toward my truck.

I stopped at Kwik Trip to buy coffee (which is something I do every day when I come to work). There was no place to park. Don’t tell me there is no place to park when I need my decaf coffee. I was something that might resemble being angry.

I parked my truck in the church lot and noticed a woman walking her dog. The two of them stopped and the dog went to the bathroom. Then they walked on. I thought the dog had pooped in the church yard and that the poop wasn’t picked up and I stormed angrily across the street to examine the remains. The dog had peed.

That’s within a time frame of 15 minutes this past Wednesday morning.

I am startled to realize during the course of a day how often I feel more “rage” at our fellow humans than love. I might prefer to call it anger or even just frustration, but the point is still the same.

Where’s the love?

Just then a lawyer stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he said, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?” He said to him, “What is written in the law? What do you read there?” He answered, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself.” (Luke 10:25-27).

Samaritans were the enemies of the Hebrew people. As I studied the history of the conflict between the Hebrews and the Samaritans, I was surprised to discover a suggestion that Samaritan religious practices might have been influenced by Islamic belief. I read that there are “parallels between technical expressions used by Samaritan writers and those found in the Quran” (aka the Muslim Holy Book)(“Samaritans” in The Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible, vol. 4, p. 195). This tells me that the conflicts we see in the Middle East, some of which are between Arabs and Jews, are as ancient as they are deep.

 

The people listening to Jesus respond to the lawyer’s question with a parable never would have expected the hero of his story to be a Samaritan. Just as many Christians would never expect the hero of the same story told in the year 2019 to be Muslim.

“…the story of the good Samaritan shows what the Great Commandments mean. And here we see the size of the task that God gives us” (Berkey-Abbot, ibid).

“Love is action, not emotion. We show our love by what we do for those who need us” (Berkey-Abbot, ibid).

“We have to go through life behaving as if we love each other. We can behave ourselves into love” (Berkey-Abbot, ibid).

Those are quotes from a Director of Education at a college in Florida. She’s the one who wrote the quote I began my sermon with. She also wrote:

“It’s not enough to love the people who are easy to love. It’s much harder to love those who have behaved in horrible ways. But we must love them too.”

“You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself.”

 Anger is easy.

All it takes is one person parking a truck. All it takes is a full parking lot. All it takes is a woman walking her dog (at least for me…).

Love is the more difficult task.

“Love is action, not emotion… we can behave ourselves into love” (Berkey-Abbot).

My young person’s message was prompted by these thoughts from the commentary I read:

“We can start where we are… We can stop keeping track of who has done what to wrong us or who is taking advantage of the system. Instead of keeping track of our losses, we can keep track of gratitude” Berkey-Abbot, ibid).

Keeping track of gratitude.

I have a friend who is celebrating 100 Days of Gratitude. Each day for 100 days she posts an image on Facebook of something for which she is grateful.

One image of one thing one day at a time.

It’s a first step into a journey toward loving our neighbors as ourselves. It is a first step toward “behave[ing] ourselves into love” (Berkey-Abbot).

Amen.