Wednesday, February 26, 2020 – Ash Wednesday

Ash-Wednesday 2020

Our Savior’s La Crosse

“Ash Wednesday” verse 6 T. S. Eliot (1930)

VI
Although I do not hope to turn again
Although I do not hope
Although I do not hope to turn

Wavering between the profit and the loss
In this brief transit where the dreams cross
The dream crossed twilight between birth and dying
(Bless me father) though I do not wish to wish these things
From the wide window towards the granite shore
The white sails still fly seaward, seaward flying
Unbroken wings

And the lost heart stiffens and rejoices
In the lost lilac and the lost sea voices
And the weak spirit quickens to rebel
For the bent golden-rod and the lost sea smell
Quickens to recover
The cry of quail and the whirling plover
And the blind eye creates
The empty forms between the ivory gates
And smell renews the salt savour of the sandy earth

This is the time of tension between dying and birth
The place of solitude where three dreams cross
Between blue rocks
But when the voices shaken from the yew-tree drift away
Let the other yew be shaken and reply.

Blessèd sister, holy mother, spirit of the fountain, spirit
of the garden,
Suffer us not to mock ourselves with falsehood
Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still
Even among these rocks,
Our peace in His will
And even among these rocks
Sister, mother
And spirit of the river, spirit of the sea,
Suffer me not to be separated

And let my cry come unto Thee.

I have discussed elements of T.S. Eliot’s Ash Wednesday poem in sermons before, but I always look at the first stanza. Today I’m looking at the sixth and final stanza, thinking about the meaning of this day, Ash Wednesday, for us as followers of Jesus.

Eliot wrote the poem Ash Wednesday in 1930 shortly after he converted to Anglicanism, or as we know it, the Episcopal faith. According to one scholar, Eliot was turning in his own life, turning away from the temptations of the world, towards God (Dr. Oliver Tearle, “A Short Analysis of T.S. Eliot’s Ash-Wednesday” found on interesting literature.com).

Eliot wrote

Although I do not hope to turn again
          Although I do not hope
          Although I do not hope to turn

with the hope that he would not turn his focus, again, away from God.

In his poem Eliot described life:

This is the time of tension between dying and birth

and again he wrote that life is

The dream-crossed twilight between birth and dying

This week, I’ve been focused on Eliot’s notion of life as twilight.

Twilight.

Twilight is the time of day when there is “no intensity of night or day” (Tearle).

The day is not day. The day is not night. The day is twilight.

And so, Eliot wrote, is our lifetime of living.

Ash Wednesday demands we examine our twilight.

There is no purity to who we are. Our lives are stained by sin. In our confession today we will admit to God “that we have sinned by our own fault in thought, word and deed” (ELW Ash Wednesday “Confession”).

We have sinned by what we have done.

We have sinned by what we have left undone.

Again, the words point us toward the in-between, toward twilight.

Eliot wrote in his Ash Wednesday poem:

Teach us to sit still

We enter 40 days of Lent today, our time to set aside time to sit still. We sit:

among these rocks

knowing our need for God.

Let our cries come unto God.

We plea for God’s mercy, even as we know and we believe God’s mercy is everlasting.

Amen.

Sunday, February 16, 2020 – Epiphany 6

Epiphany 6   2020

Deuteronomy 30:15-20

Our Savior’s La Crosse

 

Choose life.

The irony of the statement is not lost to me.

Two weeks ago my mother and I embraced death for my father.

He was suffering, undeniably suffering from infections that were battering his body and confusing his brain.

As the two of us sat with my father and the Dr. caring for him, and we discussed each element of his care, we concluded that the best decision we could make for him was to embrace his dying. Antibiotics weren’t strong enough to beat the level of his infections. At best, they would extend his life a day or two, extending his suffering.

We chose in-hospital hospice, specifically comfort care. We stopped everything that was being done to extend his life, choosing to have hospice do everything they could to ease his pain and suffering.

He died 24 hours later.

Fortunately for us, my father’s parents chose “life” for my father almost 93 years ago, first when my grandparents chose to have my father baptized. Then when my father affirmed his faith, saying “yes” to his baptism as a teenager, he chose life.

The choice to baptize, the choice to say “yes” to having been baptized—is a life-giving choice. Don’t misunderstand me, you don’t have to be baptized to have life or to live a good life. But baptism is a choice we make for children or as adults that has life-giving implications. Both in life and at death.

For those of you here in the sanctuary (or if you have a hymnal at home) please turn to page 227 in the front of your hymnal (Evangelical Lutheran Worship).

Follow along as I read the prayer on the left:

God, who is rich in mercy and love, gives us new birth into a living hope through the sacrament of baptism. By water and the Word God delivers us from sin and death and raises us to new life in Jesus Christ. We are united with all the baptized in the one body of Christ, anointed with the gift of the Holy Spirit, and joined in God’s mission for the life of the world.

Through baptism we are given new life.

This is God’s activity in us. God cleanses us. God delivers us. God raises us to new life in Jesus. All of the baptized together, we become the one body of Christ. We become The Church! The Holy Spirit fills us with new life as we go out into the world telling others about the life of love, the life in love we live forever! This new life isn’t just of this world, isn’t just in this world. This new life we live is both now and forever!

Choose life!

Turn to page 231 in your hymnal. Look at the prayer we pray as I lay hands on the person I am baptizing:

Sustain (this person) with the gift of your Holy Spirit: the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord, the spirit of joy in your presence, now and forever.

 

My dad was baptized when he was 10 days old. A similar prayer would have been prayed for him as his pastor laid hands on him. For 93 years the Holy Spirit lived in my dad, lived in the decisions he made, lived in all that he learned, lived in and through him as he celebrated the joy of God’s presence in his life. In death, that new life did not end. In death, our new lives do not end for us. We have been given new life because we have chosen life!

Look at the bottom of page 231, at the words the congregation speaks to the newly baptized. Read them with me…

We welcome you into the body of Christ and into the mission we share: join us in giving thanks and praise to God and bearing God’s creative and redeeming word to all the world.

This is what we say to the baby, or the young adult, or the old person who has chosen baptism: welcome! Welcome! You are now a part of this new family, the body of Christ. Welcome! Join us in mission. Welcome! Join us as we give thanks to God. Welcome! Join us as we give praise to God. Welcome! Join us as we take God’s creative Word (Jesus), God’s redeeming Word (Jesus) out into the world!

Welcome!

Join us!

Choose life!

Choose joy!

Choosing life with Jesus Christ is choosing a life that is of this earth and a life that lives beyond time on this earth.

Choosing life with Jesus Christ is choosing joy, joy in the belief that we are forever cleansed and redeemed.

Choosing life with Jesus Christ is choosing joy in the knowledge that we will never be alone because we have God’s Spirit in us, and we have the body of Christ, our family of faith surrounding us.

Choosing life with Jesus Christ is choosing joy in knowing that God loves the world!

Choosing life with Jesus Christ is choosing joy in knowing the wonders of God’s love!

Choose life!

Even in death, life is given. New life. Always and forever.

Amen.

 

Sunday, February 2, 2020 – Epiphany 4

Epiphany 4 2020

Our Savior’s La Crosse

Matthew 5:1-12

1 Corinthians 1:18-31

 

 

My father died Monday.

His death was peaceful, but unnecessary.

His death experience speaks to the immorality of “care” many medical systems and institutions provide our elders.

It will take time for me to process and integrate what happened to him, and to our family.

Until then, today I want to tell you about someone I met while visiting my dad in the hospital.

First, I need to ground my story in scripture.

St. Paul wrote in his first letter to the church in Corinth that “God chose what is low and despised in the world, things that are not, to reduce to nothing things that are, so that no one might boast in the presence of God” (I Cor. 1:28).

St. Paul’s language is iffy (at best). Speaking of what is high and what is low, what is despised (and thus what is not) reeks of power and privilege. Which is his back-handed point. We are all equal in the eyes of God. In or out of religious communities, morally speaking every person has ultimate value. And yet our cultures, our societies, our businesses, our families, our churches seem to manifest themselves in hierarchies. Those with more power, those with more wealth are given, structurally and practically, more esteem.

Jesus said “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of God” (Matthew 5:3).

Jesus said “Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth” (Matthew 5:5).

Jesus said “Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy” (Matthew 5:7).

Jesus said “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God” (Matthew 5:8).

My mom met Julie before I did.

My dad was in the hospital over a week by the time I went to be with him and my mom. My brothers and sisters were all there at one time or another so my parents weren’t without support. They had their church family. They had friends.

And they had Julie.

Julie worked at the hospital. Her job was to clean the rooms on my father’s floor. She pushed her cart from room to room, mopping and wiping things down.

As she cleaned my dad’s room she spoke to my parents. They talked about our family and about my dad’s health and life, and about God.

Julie wore a silver necklace with a cross suspended from it.

By the end of my dad’s first week in the hospital, my mom and Julie were hugging.

My mom had told Julie about me, her pastor daughter. So when I arrived at the hospital for the first time, Julie knew all about me. She stood in the doorway of my father’s room and looked at my twin sister, me, and my nephew as we lined up against the wall. “Which one is the pastor?” she asked. I raised my hand like a child in school. “I am” I said.

Julie went down the line, hugging us all. Then she went to work, cleaning the room as we waited outside.

When she finished, as we entered the room I looked at her and said “My Mama loves you.” She said “I love her.”

My dad was discharged a few hours later.

We returned to the hospital the next night—dad rushed there by ambulance. Once he was stabilized they returned him to the same floor he had been on before. Julie’s floor.

I saw her the next morning. “He back?” she asked. “Did they let him go to soon?”

“Yes” I said.

She hugged me.

I asked “Do you pray for people as you mop their rooms?” She said “Yes. And I talk to them, too.” Whether they could hear her or not, she talked to them.

St. Paul wrote to the Corinthians: “Consider your own call…” (1 Cor. 1:26).

St. Paul wrote to the Corinthians: “Let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord” (1 Cor. 1:31).

St. Paul asked the Corinthians in his letter to them: “Where is the one who is wise?” (1 Cor. 1:20).

Where is the one who is wise? She was and is mopping the floor of my father’s hospital room, that room now no longer his but being used by someone else, someone else for whom Julie is praying.

Julie’s call is to clean—cleaning is her vocation. Julie lives out her vocation praying and tending to those in her care.

That, my friends, is what God calls us each to do with our lives.

God calls us to be merciful.

God calls to us, we who hope to be pure in heart. And, if we are looking, we see God.

We see God in those who have been called to care for us.

Hopefully, others see God in our caring. In our caring for them.

In our caring for the world.

Amen.