Maundy Thursday:  Service with Holy Communion at 12:15 PM; Service with Holy Communion and Stripping of the Altar at 7 PM.

Good Friday:  Services at 12:15 PM and 7 PM.

Easter Sunday:  Festival Worship at 10:30 PM

Holy Week (Photo credit: WELS.net)

Marshmallows (Photo credit: John-Morgan)

So, I have one question, following this week:  Why in the world did Valentine’s Day have to fall after Ash Wednesday?  Seriously, what were they thinking, the people who made the calendar?  We start our Lenten journey one day with a confession of every sin imaginable – including – and I quote from our Ash Wednesday service — our “self-indulgent appetites and ways” – and then turn around the next day to face a holiday characterized by big boxes of nothing but decadent chocolate and sugary candy hearts!  Oh, the temptation!  Oh, the unfairness of it all!

Yes, it seems cruel to me, placing this holiday after the beginning of Lent, but it sure makes today’s text seem relevant, even if it only tends to convict us even more of our self-indulgent appetites and ways.  The text, of course, is the story of Jesus’ own temptation, and – even more so – of his endurance in the face of that temptation.

Now, the best example of temptation that I have seen recently, other than the Valentine’s Day chocolate lining the grocery store shelves, of course, came in the form of an online video demonstrating what’s called “The Marshmallow Test.” It’s an experiment designed to determine how well children are able to delay there gratification.  A child sits down at a table where an adult offers her a single marshmallow.  The child is told that there are two options.  She may 1) eat the marshmallow now, or 2) wait until the adult leaves the room and returns, after which she will receive a second marshmallow.  If she eats the one now, though, one is all she gets.  A hidden camera records what they do until the adult returns.

Let me tell you, if you want a good laugh, the next time you’re on the internet, Google “the marshmallow test.”  While many of the kids are able to make it until the adult comes back, you can tell that it is sheer torture.  Some of the kids cradle it in their hands, like a priceless treasure.  Some stare at it until their eyes become crossed.  One of them says, out loud, “Oh, it smells so yummy.”  A couple of them actually put it in their mouth and then think twice and take it out.  Some of them take small bites, hoping the adult won’t notice.  One little girl scrapes off a tiny bit with her fingernail.  And another girl just eats the whole thing before the adult even leaves the room.  Oh, the temptation.

Now, I’ve got to stop here and say that marshmallows, chocolate, and candy hearts can’t even compare to the things with which Jesus was tempted.  Forget the chocolate.  Jesus is starving out there in the wilderness, and while chocolate may have been nice, real food would have been much more tempting.

And so the devil tempts him food – but not simply with food.  He tempts him with the chance to serve himself – to turn a stone into a loaf of bread – because you know he can do it – so that he can feed himself.  We’ve all heard or read stories of how desperate people become for food when they are famished, and the desperate measures they’ll take to fill their bellies.  When you can get something that you need yourself, there’s a good chance you’ll find a way to get it.

Second, as if that weren’t enough, the devil tempts Jesus with power and glory – showing him all the kingdoms of the world and telling him that they can be his if he will only worship the devil.  I don’t have to tell you how much of a temptation this is.  We’ve all heard stories of people who are tempted by power.  Even people who already have a lot of power are tempted by having more of it—think of the politicians athletes who get into trouble simply because they want more…and more…and more…And the devil just dangles it in front of Jesus like a carrot in front of a horse.

Finally, the devil tempts him with what you could call fame and fortune.   Imagine if you saw someone jump off the top of a building and land softly in the arms of angels.  Would it not be quite the spectacle, reminiscent of the acrobats at the circus, who attract attention by their remarkable feats?  The temptation that Jesus faces here is the temptation to do something that will make him famous, that will allow to bask in his own glory.  We have heard countless stories of people who have fallen victim to these sorts of temptations as well.  But, for the most part, does their fame and fortune not come at the expense of the well-beings of many, many other people?

Each of these temptations that the devil offers Jesus is a temptation to put himself first – to feed and serve himself, to gain power for himself so that he can control others, to be famous for himself, maybe even avoiding the death and the cross in the process.  And, if we are honest with ourselves, the temptations that we face also only feed ourselves.  Whether they are small, like chocolate or marshmallows, or big like power and prestige, when we fall to temptation it is because we have become the center of our own universes. Chocolate, marshmallows, power, prestige, fame, glory – all of these temptations feed our own self-indulgent ways and appetites.  And we fall victim to our own egos all the time – maybe not to the point where it makes the news, like the athletes and politicians who commit crimes in order to obtain power and prestige, but certainly at the expense of others around us – our spouses or children, or neighbors or coworkers.  We have trouble not putting ourselves first.

In fact, Martin Luther’s definition of sin was the human being curved in upon itself…the human being so curved so much in that all it can see is itself – so that’s its vision of anything greater than itself is blocked.

We know, though, that this was not a part of who Jesus was.  The difference, of course, between us and Jesus is that while we too often give in to the temptations, Jesus endures in the face of them.  In fact, if Jesus had given in to any single one of these temptations from the devil, his path to the cross would have taken a detour or would not have gotten there at all.  And the cross was his ultimate self-sacrifice.  Even on the cross, Jesus was tempted to save himself, and did not do it.  Jesus was never about serving himself, was never focused on his own ego, which is why his endurance in the face of temptation is so important for us.

This Lenten season calls us to reflect on our self-indulgent ways and appetites.  And it calls us to do something about them.  It’s significant that the temptation of Jesus occurs right after his baptism and while he is filled with the Holy Spirit.  I don’t need to say it, I’m sure, but just we are baptized doesn’t mean we are immune to temptation.  In fact, it’s just the opposite.  The baptismal life is always a life in which we are constantly moving back and forth from our self-indulgent ways and appetites, through the waters of baptism where we are cleansed from sin, and where God creates a new and a new and right spirit within us.  It is through the waters of baptism where we turn to our spouses, our children, our neighbors, and our coworkers in humble service and love.  We are only given this opportunity because Jesus was a lot better than we are…because Jesus could withstand every temptation there was.

It strikes me that “The Marshmallow Test” only works with children when they actually believe that the adult will come back and will offer another marshmallow.  In other words, it only works when the child trusts the adult completely.  Jesus withstood temptation because he trusted God 100%.  “One does not live by bread alone,” he says, knowing that one really lives by the Spirit.  “Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him,” he tells the devil when tempted with power and glory.  And finally, “Do not put the Lord your God to the test.”  Three quotes from the book of Deuteronomy expressing total trust in what God was doing.

This, too, is the baptismal life – for Jesus, and for us.  It is a life in which we realize that the God who dies for us is the only thing worth trusting completely.   Only with that sort of trust and faith can we begin to un-curve ourselves, to give up on our self-centered selves, resist temptation, and serve and love one another in love.

Dear friends, God is good.  Sure, there are temptations that surround us in heart-shaped boxes filled with chocolate, or in power, prestige, and fame.  And when faced with them, these sorts of things seem really, really good.  But, remember this: no temptation can compare to the goodness of our God.  And, as Jesus reminds us later in Luke’s gospel, if you remember that story: no one is good, but God alone.  Now, that is worth trusting.

Amen.

Lent (Photo credit: jezobeljones)

Shrove Tuesday Pancake and Sausage Supper

On Tuesday, February 12th we will host a Fat Tuesday/Shrove Tuesday pancake and sausage supper from 5:45-7:00pm in the Fellowship Hall. Shrove Tuesday is the Tuesday before Ash Wednesday and the custom of eating pancakes and sausage is that of a last feast before the fasting of the Lenten Season. It was a day to rid the house of the fat, by eating it! It is a mild celebration as compared to Mardi Gras, its equivalent in Louisiana, or Carnival, its South American cousin. So come and join us for a meal of celebration and fellowship the night before Ash Wednesday. Look for sign-up sheets, as reservations will be required so that we can prepare enough food.

Lenten Soup and Sandwich Suppers

This Lent we are reviving our old tradition of offering a soup and sandwich supper on Wednesday evenings prior to the Lenten Midweek worship services. The suppers will be from 5:45pm-6:45pm in the Fellowship Hall. While there is no charge, we will be collecting a free-will offering to defray expenses. The suppers will be prepared and hosted by our committees, church council, and staff.

So on the Wednesdays in Lent don’t worry about supper! Come and eat, enjoy the company of your church family, and spend some extra time in worship as we prepare our hearts for Easter.

Ash Wednesday Worship

Ash Wednesday service will be at 12:15pm and 7:00 pm on Wednesday, February 13th. We will offer Imposition of Ashes and Holy Communion. There will be no Lenten supper prior to the Ash Wednesday service.

Lenten Midweek Worship

This year our Lenten Midweek worship will focus on the theme “Beneath the Cross of Jes

us.” Worship opportunities will again be offered at 12:15pm and 7:00pm and will be about 45 minutes in length.

2010_09_ars1 (Photo credit: tinowa)

Is there anyone here who doesn’t have this absolutely shuddering memory, a memory that will instantly produce a queasy feeling and a cold sweat: you’re drying a serving platter that you inherited from your grandmother, or moving a knickknack passed down from your mother, or you bump into a piece of furniture and suddenly it happens—you watch as almost in slow motion some precious bit of china, some heirloom figurine, some priceless family treasure goes sliding into space. As it slipped from your hands or went sliding off the table, you knew what was about to happen, but you were helpless to stop it. Gravity does not negotiate. In an instant a valued piece of family history is rendered into many pieces.

These days we live in a throwaway culture, a culture of planned obsolescence. When things outlive their usefulness we send them to the “circular file,” the trash can. Last year’s electronics and other plastic items that have finished their short lives and no longer suit our needs are discarded. But not only our gadgets suffer that fate. When was the last time you took a favorite pair of shoes to be re-soled? When was the last time a hemline was changed or a waistband altered? When things don’t fit, we give them away or throw them away. We are too quick to replace, rather than restore. Truth be known, artisans and repair craftspeople are increasingly hard to find. Unless what has been damaged or worn is extremely valuable, it is not usually considered worth the investment to repair it.

However, that has not always been the case. In the fifteenth century, Shogun Ashikago Yoshimasa sent his favorite tea set back to the Chinese company that had produced it. It had been broken and he wanted it repaired. When it was returned he was horrified at the sloppy workmanship. His beloved tea set was repaired with ugly metal staples holding the beautiful ceramic pieces together. His complaints eventually led to the art of “kintsugi.”

Kintsugi is a restoration process that seeks not to make broken ceramics as good as new, but to make them better than new. Kintsugi is an art in which the broken pieces are first sealed together with a resin, which once it hardens, is carefully buffed so that the offending crack is almost imperceptible to the human eye.

But that is just the first step. In kintsugi the repair lines are not disguised to the point of invisibility, no, they are highlighted. The repair line that is almost invisible to the eye is boldly traced over with a lacquer that contains real gold powder. The result is a golden river tracing the length and breadth of the break.

The final product is a repaired piece that is far more exquisite and beautiful than the original that was whole. Bold lines and gold streaks jig jag and branch across the plate, the teapot, the pitcher. The gold flows and gleams, illuminating not the flaw of the break, but the giftedness of the artist who worked the repair.

The art of kintsugi is what the Apostle Paul is describing for his beloved church at Corinth. They were trying to build up the Body of Christ in that place. They were trying to put together a living body of Christ. But there were problems in that Greek community.  They were actually a rather wealthy, learned group of folks and they were overly concerned about outward appearance and authority. They were concerned about things like “who is best,” “what spiritual gift is the greatest,” “who is top dog in the pecking order of the community?” They were good people, but their priorities were a bit skewed. So Paul uses  a metaphor of the body—a single entity with many different, and differently gifted individuals—to stress that any discussion of who is best, who is most connected, who has the most authority or power, has absolutely no standing, no importance, in the new Body of Christ.

Paul was urging the Corinthian Christians, and all Christians, to notice that the broken ones within their community were the ones who could most beautifully bear the marks of healing that they had received at God’s hands. The more damaged and repaired, the greater the gold seams of transformation were reflected to the world. The healing, life-changing power of the Holy Spirit at baptism, of living in the Body of Christ, takes our brokenness, our blemishes, and sculpts them into beauty marks. They reflect the beauty of God’s ability to heal and transform, and they reflect the capacity of those broken and transformed to understand, accept, and aid others who are broken. When we are broken by life and what life brings, we do not go and sit on the trash pile like Job, we turn to the grace and healing of God and Jesus. We are not throwaway people; we are kintsugi people—restored people.

A brief catalogue of kintsugi people from our faith history as related by the author of Hebrews 11:  Abraham was a liar (Genesis 12:13), Jacob was a cheat (Genesis 27:19), Moses was a murderer (Exodus 2:12), Gideon was an idol worshiper (Judges 8:27), Barak was a coward (Judges 4:8), Samson was a womanizer (Judges 16:1, 4), Jephthah was a gang leader (Judges 11:3), David broke every commandment in the blink of an eye, and Paul was a persecutor and conspirator in the murder of Christians. Yet it was precisely their brokenness, the cracks in their hearts and souls that God turned to do God’s will and work. God works through brokenness, not around it.

So think, think about the times and places of your own brokenness, and how that has been transformed by God in such a way that God’s light and healing that came to you has been used by you for others. If you have ever had your heart broken by the loss of love, of a dream, of a person, by the loss of anything precious and dear, then you understand in a way that may bring hope and healing to another.

If you have ever suffered the brokenness of grief whether it is due to the loss of a job, a future, a child, a parent, a spouse, a sibling, a friend, or a relationship, then you carry within you the compassionate understanding that can bless those who have suffered grief and loss.

If you have ever experienced a debilitating or chronic illness, if you live gracefully with pain, or disability, with limitations, then you have a river of gold tracing your life that can be of hope to others who suffer. Personally, and this may sound strange, I am thankful for my recent illness and hospitalization. I have been blessed with great health, but it was incredibly helpful for me to be on the other side, to be in the bed, to experience what others go through.

If you have ever battled addiction or have walked that path with a family member or friend, then you just might reflect the healing love of God in such a way that others can find the strength to struggle and overcome.

If you have ever struggled with depression or mental distress, if you have lived and worked with those who suffer mental illness, then the gold veins running through the mended cracks in your heart, are streams of compassion that will allow those who suffer to be held closely when life gets so tough.

The promise of Jesus is that those broken cracks, in all us bruised, battered, broken people, are the places where the true power of God is released in the gold of grace. As a counselor once said, “I believe that brokenness is the most underrated virtue in the Christian community today.

Here’s the truth, the real deal: all of us gathered here today are broken in some way. And we have either been restored or we have not. But if we have not, then we must. We must allow God to repair us and transform us in such ways that God is seen in our lives. This is not only for our healing, but for the healing of others, for the healing of the world.

We are kintsugi people, the repaired people of God, transformed for the healing of the world, that the gold of grace may be seen in us, that the streams of God’s healing love may flow through us to others. Thank God for the brokenness, for it is in the flaws and cracks that God works the miracles of grace. Amen.

The Wedding at Cana by Paolo Veronese (mid-16th century) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

It recently dawned on me that 1/12^th of the so-called new year is already almost over.  This simple fact was sort of thrown in my face this week as my new year’s resolutions began to feel, shall we say, quite old.  Like many of you, my new year’s resolution this year included exercise.  Thirty minutes a day, five days a week.

And while I have been very disciplined with it, I must admit that I am becoming weary with my routine.  It’s becoming more and more difficult to push myself out of bed when my alarm clock goes off an hour earlier than it normally would.  It’s becoming more of a challenge to prepare my gym bag the night before.  Initially, the fact that I could watch the Today Show on the elliptical machine served as my motivating factor (I know, kind of sad).  Now, however, even Savannah Gutherie and Al Roker are getting to be about as repetitive as the pedals on my machine.

The exhilaration from having gotten up early has passed; the fatigue has set in;I’m starting to doubt my ability to keep it up.  The new year, 1/12^th of the way complete, has already grown old, as my own excitement about starting something new is running out of steam.

Now, condense this pattern of decline into just a few hours, turn the gym into a banquet hall, and you get a picture of what was going on at that wedding feast in Cana.  The celebration was growing old, mostly because … well, the wine had run out, of course!

Now, everyone loves an open bar, so it’s fairly easy for us to identify with Mary’s concern as she breaks the news to Jesus.  But, running out of wine today can’t even compare to the severity of the situation back then.  Wine, you see, served a greater purpose than loosening the tongue.  Wine symbolized the harvest.  It symbolized God’s abundance.  It symbolized joy, and gladness, and blessing.  So when it ran out at the wedding, it implied that the blessing for that couple – whoever they were – also ran out.  In addition, the depletion of the wine would have been a sign that, even though the night was still young, it was time for the guests to go home.  The celebration – the joy, the excitement – had run out of the wine that was fueling it.

Now, expand this pattern of decline back into months, years, or even decades, and turn the banquet hall not back into a gym, but into a sanctuary, and you get a picture, I think, of what can happen in the life of the church and in our Christian lives.  You do what you do until you run out of steam and can’t do it anymore.  Think of the ways you serve in the church, or think of your own prayer life, or of other spiritual disciplines you may try.  The new Christian life can start to feel old, the blessing of it can feel as if it has jumped ship, especially if you’ve been doing it for a long time.  It’s easy to get tired of living the baptismal life.

This “baptismal life” is the sort of living that Pastor Peter talked about last week – the kind of living that makes you act differently, that pushes you into service of God and each other.  Paul, in our second reading for 1 Corinthians provides a nice description of how we might think of it.   In our baptisms, God activates a whole bunch of spiritual gifts:  wisdom, knowledge, faith, healing, the working of miracles, however you might interpret that, prophecy, discernment of spirits, and the speaking and interpretation of tongues.  But just because God has activated these gifts in each one of us for, as Paul says, the “common good,” doesn’t mean we are immune from spiritual burnout.  It doesn’t mean that our new year of faith won’t grow old, and it doesn’t meet that it won‘t happen sooner rather than later, or that our wine of abundance won’t run out, or that our party won’t die down.  In fact, it probably will, especially if we don’t pay attention to it or nurture it in some way.

So, what’s the answer?

What sustains us in our baptismal lives?

What prevents boredom and burnout?

What keeps the party going?

Well, who provides the new wine?  Jesus, of course.

The baptismal life is the life of discipleship, the same life to which that first band of Jesus’ followers were called long ago.  What always amazes me, though, is that, with the exception of Peter and Judas –and really only Judas – those original disciples manage to stick with Jesus right up until the end, and even beyond as Jesus sends them out into the world post-resurrection to feed his hungry sheep.  I don’t think it was easy for them, but they did it.  How?  Well, that’s just the thing.  They weren’t the ones who did it; Jesus did it for them.

In the narrow focus of today’s text, Jesus keeps the party going by providing new wine when the old wine has run out.  He renews the celebration – the symbol of the harvest, and God’s abundance, and joy and gladness.  All the disciples had to do was receive it, and drink it, I suppose.  Jesus simply surprised them with his grace and with his abundance – six water jars, 20 – 30 gallons each.

And that act in itself revealed his glory, and the disciples believed in him. In the larger scope of their lives spent following Jesus, there could many reasons the disciples continued to believe in Jesus and remained beside him.  Surely, though, they were sustained in their ministry because Jesus was always full of surprises.

This water-into-wine thing?  It was just the beginning – only the first of the signs he would do to reveal his glory so that others would believe in him, too.  Later in John’s Gospel, he would also heal several people, including a man born blind.

He would feed 5000 people with only five loaves of bread and two fish, walk on water, raise a man named Lazarus from the dead, and then, ultimately rise himself from the dead.  Jesus must have kept those disciples guessing…what sign would he perform next?  What new trick did he have up his sleeve?  Who would he heal next and how?  The disciples, you see, couldn’t help but follow Jesus.  They couldn’t wait to see what surprises Jesus had in store.

Now, let’s go back to the gym for a minute.  I recently read an article – designed for the new year, of course – about how to sustain your exercise program.  The author suggested that keeping it new was key.  For example, alternate what kinds of exercise you do….maybe one day on the elliptical machine, the next on the treadmill, the next taking a walk outside.  Changing it up makes the same old routine seem new and exciting.

Well, this is exactly what Jesus did in his own ministry and it must have sustained the disciples in their ministries.  It also sustains us in our ministries.  If you want to know how to avoid spiritual burnout in your own lives of faith and ministries, if the glass looks half empty and the wine seems to be running out, if the party is dying down and the celebration seems to be over,  Jesus will surprise you if you let him.  Jesus will give you yet another sign that will reveal his glory and create a believer out of you.  It’s just that we’re not very used to looking for surprises, or to attributing them to Jesus when we encounter them.

So here are some questions you might ask yourselves when you feel like you’re running out of steam:

Who will Jesus bring through our church doors next?

What ministry opportunity will Jesus unfold before us?

How will Jesus next feed us through a class or a sermon or a piece of music?

What conversation will we have this week where we will see the face of Jesus in the person with whom we speak?

What scripture text will have meaning for us this week as we face a challenging day at school or work, or in our relationships with friends and family?

What gifts will Jesus reveal to us – gifts in creation or in our own creativity?

What prayer will Jesus answer this week?

Jesus is performing signs – giving us surprise parties, little reasons to celebrate –     all the time, and they are meant to sustain us both personally and communally.  Most of the time, though, the problem is that our eyes and ears and hearts simply are quite in focus.

So whether you’re at the gym this week, or at school or at work, or even here at church, pay attention, and look for Jesus.  Because he’s there – even there – and he will never cease to surprise you.  He will refill your empty cup; he will revive you.

He will.

Amen.

A ten-year-old boy walked into his pastor’s office, the office of Chicago’s Pastor Sarah Sarchet Butter, and made a request. He was fresh from soccer practice and was wearing his Cincinnati Reds baseball cap. He said, “I’d liked to be baptized. We were learning about Jesus’ baptism in Sunday School. The teacher asked the class who was baptized, and all the other kids raised their hands. I want to be baptized, too.”

Using her best pastoral voice, Pastor Sarah said, “Cameron, do you really want to be baptized because everyone else is?” His freckled face broke into a smile as he looked up at her and he replied, “No. I want to be baptized because it means I belong to God in a special way.” She was touched by his understanding.

“Well, then,” she said, “how about next Sunday?” His smile turned to concern  and he asked, “Do I have to be baptized in front of all those people in the church? Can’t I just have a friend baptize me in the river?”

She asked where he came up with that idea. “Well,” he said, “Jesus was baptized by his cousin John in a river, wasn’t he?” Caught off guard, she conceded, “You have a point. But, if a friend baptized you in a river, how would the church recognize it?

Cameron responded with these unforgettable words: “By my new way of life.”

Baptism is the outward sign of the inward change that is supposed to be reflected in a new way of living. At its best baptism is such a reflection of God’s transforming grace that it need not be recorded in a church record, but can easily be seen in the lives of those who wear this mantle of forgiveness and grace.

There is an old story of a machinist years ago at the Ford Motor Company plant in Detroit who became a Christian and was baptized. He decided he needed make restitution for some parts and tools he had stolen from the company prior to his conversion. The next morning he brought all the tools and parts back to his employer that he had pilfered over the years. He explained that he had just been baptized and asked his foreman’s forgiveness.

This was such an amazing turn of events that the foreman immediately sent a telegram to Henry Ford who was visiting a plant in Europe at the time. Ford immediately returned a cable with this message: “Dam up the Detroit River, and baptize the entire city.”

And so the question for us is this: How, then, shall we live now that we have been baptized?  How shall we live so that others see that we are different, so that others detect something of grace in our lives and actions, so that we can be transforming agents in the world.  The young boy was right: People should know we are baptized by the way we live. But the question that arises from that is, “Do they?” Do we live like people who have been washed in forgiveness and grace? Do we live like people who have been invaded by the Holy Spirit of God?

Baptism is not just a religious rite—it is a rite of passage to new life. Many of us who were baptized, before we knew what was happening, take that for granted. For some reason we who were baptized as infants can go a long time without understanding that this is a binding commitment. This is a reminder to parents and sponsors that the task of raising a child in faith includes a constant reminder of what baptism is and why it is important. Truth be known, it is not fire-proofing a child for eternity. It is initiating a child into a life of grace-filled service to others as he or she lives out that grace in community. It truly takes a congregation to help a child live out his or her baptism.

Martin Luther spoke of the importance of baptism as he struggled with the pressures of his own life. When he was most deeply challenged by life and faith he would, as a reminder to himself, say out loud, “I am baptized,” and that would lift him up from the depths of depression and despair. To him baptism really meant something. And notice how he put that: “I am baptized.” He did not say, “I have been baptized” or “I was baptized,” as if it were a thing of the past. He said, “I am baptized,” reminding himself that it was a present reality. When we say, “I am baptized” (that’s the correct way of saying it, because it is a present and living grace), it ought to mean something quite significant.

Think of it this way.  When two people get married they exchange rings. The woman puts on a ring and the man puts on a ring. That ring does not make them married because people who are single wear rings all of the time. People who are friends often give rings to each other, men and women, as gifts of friendship.  The ring doesn’t make us married. Actually, you can be married without rings.

And in truth, we can be redeemed children of God, heirs of all of the gifts of salvation and grace without being baptized. But the question is: Why would we not be baptized? The ring is not just a piece of jewelry. It is a sign of the covenant between husband and wife, blessed by God’s love. Baptism is not just a sweet ceremony where the parents pray that the baby doesn’t cry.  It is a sign of the covenant of eternal life and grace that God is making with that child.

And let us remember this: it is a covenant that God makes with us. There is no initiative on our part.  We cannot choose Christ in baptism, Christ chooses us. We are not seeking God in the world, God is seeking us, and baptism is the sign that God has found us and has accepted us. That is why ninety-five percent of all Christian denominations practice infant baptism. They realize that this is God’s initiative and that to present a child for baptism is to be reminded that we have nothing to do with dispensing grace, but are called to accept this free gift. Any other way of doing it implies that we are in charge of the gifts of God—and we are not.

We also must remember that through this simple act of water and Word we receive the Holy Spirit. I am forever amazed that those who will postpone a child’s baptism until she or he decides to be baptized. I am certain that we need the Holy Spirit from the beginning, as soon as possible, so that we have the guidance of Divine grace as early in life as we can. I am forever amazed at parents who will make decisions for their children concerning the friends they have, the food they will eat, programs and movies they will watch, the clothes they will wear, the language they will use, the activities in which they will participate, but leave whether or not they will attend church or be baptized up to them. Utterly amazing!

But back to the question, the title of this sermon: How, Then Shall We Live? Will our actions in the community of faith, in the church reflect the fact that we have been baptized? Will we be about spreading good news, not slander and gossip? Will we look out for the welfare of others, not spend our time trying to drag others down? Will we support the ministries of grace and outreach? Will we be beacons of hope to those around us, sisters and brothers who are part of the fellowship of grace and suffering for Christ? Will we reflect the new life in Christ that baptism brings or will we resist grace and live as if we were outside the bounds of God’s love?

Jesus entered the Jordan to be baptized by John not because He needed it, but because we need it. John’s baptism was for repentance and God did not do away with that, but God added something to it—the Holy Spirit and grace. Baptism is a sign of grace and we should be signs of grace in this church and world. Baptism is the beginning of a new life and new life can only begin with birth. Baptism is a new birth. Baptism brings about the God’s vision for the world, that we all may be called God’s beloved.

How, Then, Shall We Live? As reflections, as mirrors of grace—nothing less. For God expects the baptized children of the Kingdom to be nothing less. Amen.

Magi, Newquay (Photo credit: TheRevSteve)

Father Mike Surufka got a phone call when he was out of town on December 7, 2002. The church rectory, his home, was on fire. When he arrived the news got even worse. His best friend, Father Willy was missing. Then the bishop called to tell him that in the rubble they had found a body. It was Father Willy. The subsequent investigation revealed more horror. Father Willy had been shot.

Who would murder Father William Gulas? He was beloved by everyone at St. Stanislaus Church, by everyone in Cleveland’s old Slavic village. He was the pastor of a beautiful Polish church that the Franciscans pastored. It got even tougher for Father Mike. A Franciscan brother was charged with the murder. Brother Daniel Montgomery had lived with the two priests but had not taken his final vows. His odd behavior made people very uncomfortable and Father Willy had broken the news to him that it wasn’t working out. In anger, Brother Dan shot him and then set the fire to cover it up.

The night after he got the news Father Mike lay in bed knowing that he’d lost everything—his possessions, his home, his friend. The next day as he wandered through the blackened rubble, the stench of wet ashes in his nose, he reflected on all that happened. He was homeless, his best friend was gone, everyone in the church was devastated, and he was in deep despair. But he was approached by a woman from the congregation (he now refers to her as an angel).

“How are you doing?” she asked. He told her the truth. “I have nothing.” She looked at him and said three words that changed his life: “You have us.”  Since that time he has reviewed all that happened and remarked, “I have everything.” That night took him to the core of what it means to be a Franciscan: when your only attachment is to God and to love, you have everything. He later said that at moment, although he had worn the simple brown robe of Saint Francis for 20 years, he became a Franciscan for the first time.

We are going along our way and life suddenly breaks in and shakes us to the core. It’s nothing we plan, it’s nothing God does (let’s be clear on that), and it’s nothing we have anticipated. But life gets a bit broken in places. What has happened? Life has happened; things like an unexpected illness, a disruption in hopes and dreams, the loss of something precious for which we were waiting, the loss of employment/health/security/love, the end of so many things, perhaps even death. Just when we expect it the least and are least prepared or equipped to deal with one more thing, life breaks or breaks in. And God comes. God interrupts when life breaks, wraps us in grace, and offers a new way.

When Herod got his royal panties in a knot over the birth of this King of Israel, he determined that he would have to do something about it. If he had half a brain, half a heart, or half a faith, he could have easily determined that this newborn king was to be a spiritual leader, a person from whom he could actually benefit. But Herod wasn’t that good and wasn’t nearly that faithful. So when God interrupted Herod’s life with this outstanding possibility, all the old goat could do was react with fear, lash out, and determine that he had to destroy this child. Had Herod welcomed Jesus his life would have changed and history would have been written in a new way for the mad monarch. But some people are incapable of receiving grace.

God interrupted the studies of three wise men who, at the calling of their hearts and the prompting of God, departed on a two-year journey to find this Child. Completely opposite to the actions of Herod, they arrived with curiosity, joy, wonder and anticipation. Herod viewed God’s interruption as a threat; the wise men saw it as a promise fulfilled. And to protect that promise, God interrupted their dreams and sent them home a different way, and sent them home in a different way. Having seen the Child, they were changed forever—we were changed forever. For when we look upon Jesus we can’t ever return home by the same route.

All of this is a metaphor for what happens when God interrupts and we choose to listen with the heart and not react with the gut emotional response.

Shortly after all of this, God interrupts Joseph’s dreams, disrupts the nice domestic life they have begun in Bethlehem and tells Joseph that he and Mary have to get out of Dodge before Herod catches on.  They do, and Jesus is safe.

God interrupts and we can either act or react. When God interrupts as He did with Herod, we can accept the new possibilities, although it may make us a little nervous, or we can react with fear, anger, violence and hatred. Sometimes God interrupts to give us a chance to get on board with God—and sometimes, to our loss we say no. Herod couldn’t do it.

When God interrupts we can act like the Magi by carefully looking to God’s promise and God’s word, by listening to the voice of God in our hearts, by allowing ourselves to be changed, and then by taking new roads. Yes, we can go back to where we started, but we will not be the same—everything changes. And that’s a good thing. Sometimes God interrupts to offer us new ways of living, and doing, and being—new paths back to old places. When we say yes, it is nothing but joy.

When God interrupts we can act as Joseph and Mary did by going in totally new directions, by understanding that God is giving us a way out, so that something new and exciting, something life-giving can come about. God gives the possibility of a fresh start, of a new security that is totally bound up in Him.

So when we are headed in that wrong direction and God interrupts and offers us something new, something that will break us down to build us up in new ways, something that will help us get over our own egos and narcissistic tendencies, we can in anxious anticipation say, “Well, I’m a bit frightened because this is going to change who I am, but honestly I need that,” or we can say, “Take a hike—my way or no way.”  We can rise above life as the Apostle Paul did or we can react in destructive ways as Herod did.

We can seek meaning in life as the Magi did and upon its revealing we can listen deeply and follow God’s lead. We may be in a vocation that is unfulfilling, a relationship that is troubled, in a family that is more dysfunctional than is tolerable, or we may simply be seeking a new way to relate to God and the world, but God interrupts and shows us new paths. And if like the Magi, we have the courage to take that first new step, then we and our circumstances can be changed for the better, for good.

When we are at a dead end place, a place that offers no hope for the future, God often interrupts and tells us, “Time to go to Egypt…time to go to Nazareth…it’s simply time to go…trust me.” And if our hearts are tuned to God, we will just go, remembering that if we really trust God we do not have a care in the world.

And when life deals us loss and heartache, God interrupts to remind us, as that woman at St. Stanislaus reminded Father Mike, “You have me, God…you have a community of people who love you, who will hold you in their arms and hearts, and who will walk with you until life can begin again.

My dear friends, never fear God’s interruptions, never avoid what God wants or asks you to do, and be forever open to the promise and possibilities of the Lord who says, “Behold, I make all things new.” For this is the God that bring hope from ashes, new life from death, and eternal life through Jesus. Amen.

In Jesus’ early days that someone was Herod. When King Herod discovered that the Magi had pulled the wool over his eyes (and ditched him), discovered the new-born King of the Jews, the Messiah, had been born in Bethlehem, he pitched a royal fit and perpetrated one of the oldest recorded acts of terrorism and infanticide of which we know. He sent his troops into Bethlehem and killed all of the male children who were two years old or slightly younger. Why?

Well, there are several reasons. The political reason is that he was not about to let a successor (he was the secular king of the Jews, although not a Jew himself) grow up in his shadow and then one day take over. That’s not good politics. Herod was quite unaware that this baby was to be a spiritual leader, but not being spiritual himself he took it at face value—a king is a king is a king—and no identified successor to any throne in his region could live. The second reason why he ordered the male children two and under to be killed is that the Magi told him that about two years prior to their arrival in Jerusalem they had seen a star and had read a prophecy about a King of the Jews being born in Bethlehem. Herod was not stupid, he was just mean, and he knew how to do the math. So he sent his troops to take care of the issue. Apparently they did and there was intense grief and suffering in the region of Bethlehem as the townsfolk witnessed the death of their children. The third reason that Herod committed this heinous act is because he was an evil man.

The prophet Jeremiah had foretold this in his own time: “A voice was heard in Ramah, wailing and loud lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children; she refused to be consoled, because they were no more.” A planned, politically orchestrated, evil act was perpetrated upon the households of Bethlehem. The people actually knew why it was happening, but that did not help in their grief. Knowing why doesn’t take away the pain. Having answers doesn’t alleviate the suffering. No amount of explaining why their sons were being slaughtered would have made any difference. Innocent lives were taken and there were reasons for it—not good reasons, for there are no good reasons for the slaughter of anyone—but reasons. And knowing the reasons didn’t help. We have come to refer to this episode in scripture as the “slaughter of the innocents.”

On Friday, a young man went into Sandyhook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut and randomly slaughtered the innocent, both adults and children. There was no political reason, no practical reason, and there are no answers that make any difference. And nothing will help alleviate the grief—not yet. It is pointless to ask why, because no answer will suffice. It is a waste of time to speculate on the motives of the gunman, because that will not change the facts: twenty children and seven adults are dead.  Knowing why will not ease the suffering. This event, as was the event in Bethlehem, as was the event in Columbine, and Aurora, as was the shooting of the Amish girls at their school in 2006, as was the Jonesboro, Arkansas school shootings, as the shootings are Virginia Tech is a tragedy. It is the perpetration of evil on the innocent. It brings terror into our lives and sucks the joy out of our days. It makes us suspect of everyone we do not know. Fear is something we go to bed with at night and wake to in the morning.

As a parent I cannot imagine the pain those families are going through. I’m not certain that I could bear it all that well. It would push me to the limits of my faith. It’s already pushed very hard.  To have something that precious taken from you—children and spouses— in such a violent and senseless way is unthinkable. To have to bury a child reverses one of life’s most sacred codes—parents are not supposed to bury their children. That’s not how it works. But guess what; that is how it works. It’s estimated that about 155,000 people die every day, so it’s probably safe to assume that 1/3 of them are children. That’s a lot of grief, a lot of loss. Events like this remind us of how fragile life is, how unpredictable life is, and of how little control we have over life.

So what do we do in the face of such tragedy? Our faith calls on us to do the only things we know how to do. We grieve with those who grieve. We weep with those who weep. We hold our children close enough so that they know that they are loved and safe, but we remember that they must be also free in a hard world. We tell everyone we love that we love them—every chance we get.

We do all that we can to go gently into the days and live patiently among those who struggle with life. We work as hard as we can to change whatever needs to be changed in this country and this world, whatever it takes so that children and their teachers are safe, that people who are disturbed get help, and that weapons of destruction designed to take human life disappear from the face of the earth.   We pray, we trust in God, we hope and we work for things that make for peace. And we look to God and to the Child of Bethlehem, to the promptings of the Holy Spirit to sustain us when we grow weary, frustrated, and despairing.

It is no wonder that we celebrate Christmas during the darkest days of winter for in the darkest days of the world the Light of hope must shine, lest we give in to despair. In these dark, dark days Jesus, Child of Bethlehem, Son of God, Savior comes to give us hope.

We stand on the cusp of Christmas knowing that it will be far different this year than other years—perhaps it will always be different. But we must remember that the world into which the Savior as born was just as hard and harsh as ours. The innocents of His day were always at risk—always. But He came to make a difference and in this world, Jesus does make a difference. That is not just a trite saying, a catch-phrase, a cliché, it is a reality.

Let me share with you how Kenneth Gibble, retired Church of the Brethren pastor and blogger, put it twenty years ago.

“Now that Jesus has come, we know that God stands with us in every season of our lives. We know that because Jesus lived life just as you and I do. He was not a celestial visitor who just dropped in for a casual visit. He was a human being who worked long and hard, faced temptation, knew joy and sorrow.

     Now that he has come, we know that we are not alone when we face the terrors of our existence—loneliness, pain, and death. We know because Jesus faced each of them in turn and suffered the full measure of their power.

     Now that he has come, we know that nothing the future holds can overcome the love God has for us. We know because God raised Jesus from the tomb, and through him gives us the promise of eternal life.

     It does matter that he has come. For people of faith, the future has the same unknown quantity as it is to people with no faith at all. Bright Sunday afternoons lengthening into dark, cold Sunday evenings may still trigger a remembrance of childhood fears.

     But there is something else. It is the assurance that God holds the future in loving, powerful hands. It is the assurance that victory over all that threatens us—a victory begun in Jesus Christ—will be completed in God’s own good time.

     This is the gift God offers on the days after Christmas, a gift that is possible only now that He, the Holy Child, has come.  (Kenneth Gibble, Once Upon a Wonder, 1992)

There is not much that can be said to ease the pain that families are experiencing so we do not rely so much on words, but on Jesus, Word made flesh. And as we celebrate the anniversary of his coming among us, we must look to the day when all of the pain of the world fades in the brightness of resurrection. Until then let us pray for the families who have suffered loss of children, spouses, parents, and friends. Let us pray in hope and work diligently in grace to change the world, that it be a suitable home to receive children again, and that the innocent of all ages no longer live in fear. And let us never take lightly the gift of each day, the love of another, and the grace of God. Amen.

Candle standing at Christmas Eve table. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Please join us for our Christmas Eve services!

Children and Family Service at 5:30 PM.  Designed especially for children.  Includes a visit to the live nativity scene.

Traditional Candlelight Service at 8:30 PM.  The service begins at 8:30, but special music begins at 8:00 PM.

Merry Christmas!