Sermon for the Seventh Sunday after Pentecost - Ordinary 15C - "Certainty Comes At The End"

There’s a quote attributed to Mark Twain that goes like this: “What gets us into trouble is not what we don't know. It's what we know for certain that just ain't so.” It’s one of those sayings that is so like Mark Twain that if he didn’t say it, he should have.

What does it mean to be certain of a thing? In our readings for today, God shows the prophet Amos the plumb line by which God’s people will be judged, but in the Gospel parable, Jesus uses the same plumb line to insist that what we know for certain is going to get us into trouble. Pay attention, brothers and sisters, and let’s talk about what we know for certain. Let us pray: O Creator of all that has been, all that is and all that will be, have mercy on us. You set a plumb line by which all things are judged, and we always come up out of line. Forgive us when we know for certain things that just aren’t so. Humble us and renew our hearts with your love, the only thing that is certain in all that exists. In Jesus’ name we pray, Amen.

Some of you may have worked with plumb lines before, but I’ve got a similar tool here that most of you, if not all of you, will know for certain that does the same thing. This is a level. Last summer I rebuilt the fence in our backyard and used this level to make sure the fence rails were straight up and down. This particular level comes from my Grandpa Johnson’s workshop, so I know that it has a long history of setting things straight in our family. You use this level in the same way a bricklayer uses a plumbline: it’s a tool to make sure that everything is lining up right, so that a wall is constructed to be as strong and sturdy as it needs to be. God is going to judge the state of the people of Judah, Amos will provide the level, and we see immediately how out of true the state of things really can be.

When Amaziah, the priest of Bethel, heard what Amos was telling the people of Israel, this was his response: “...never again prophesy at Bethel, for it is the king's sanctuary, and it is a temple of the kingdom.” Anyone who knows a little bit of Hebrew sees the irony in this sentence right away. The name “Bethel” means “house of the Lord” in Hebrew. Amaziah insists that “God’s house” is the king’s sanctuary, and God’s call for Israel to return to God is no longer welcome there. Out of plumb, for certain: things are not the way they should be for Israel, so God will begin the hard work of tearing down and rebuilding so that things might be what they are meant to be in the future.

Let’s move forward a few hundred years to Jesus and his conversation with the lawyer in today’s Gospel reading. There are many places in the gospels where people are trying to trap Jesus with their questions, especially the closer Jesus gets to Jerusalem in the gospel of Luke, but this isn’t necessarily one of those times. This lawyer seems to be genuinely seeking wisdom and eternal life, and Jesus seems to be genuinely interested in giving him the truth. But while the lawyer’s first question and answer session goes exactly how he might have expected, the parable would have seemed completely out of plumb to someone listening in Jesus’ time.

Who were the Samaritans? What do you know about them? Remnants of the Northern Kingdom, the people no one wanted, religious half-breeds who said they worshiped God but didn’t follow the same religious patterns Jewish people followed. Worshiped at Mt Gezirim, not the Temple. People would cross the Jordan when traveling between Galilee and Judea to avoid going through Samaritan territory. When Jesus identifies the merciful Samaritan as the one who is doing and being right to his neighbor, he blows up the certainty every listener would have had about Samaritans.

How would we put this in modern terms? Well, imagine the group of people you would avoid at all costs, and put them in the role of the Samaritan. You get “The Parable of the Good Democrat.” “The Parable of the Good Republican.” “The Parable of the Good Hawkeye Fan.” “The Parable of the Good Baptist.” “The Parable of the Good Muslim.” All of us have those groups of people with whom we would never, ever want to associate: that’s the group Jesus uses to show the lawyer how out of plumb his certainty really is.

One of the problems is how Jesus and the lawyer are asking and answering the question in different ways. When the lawyer asks, “Who is my neighbor?”, he is asking Jesus to identify who’s in and who’s out. The lawyer thinks, “Certainly, Jesus can’t suggest that my neighbor is anyone who’s actually near me at any given time. There are good guys and bad guys, and I’m only expected to love the good guys, right?” The lawyer isn’t only asking, “For whom must I show care?” He’s also asking, “Who can I ignore?” Jesus answer is plain and shocking: “You can’t ignore ANYONE.”

Professor Marilyn Salmon of United Theological Seminary in St. Paul, MN says, “Jesus shifts the question from the one the lawyer asks – who is my neighbor?—to ask what a righteous neighbor does.”1 What was once a question of doing becomes, on the lips of Jesus, a question of being. Asking Jesus to identify which group of people are our neighbors is like asking a carpenter which fence rail needs the level - if things are going to be the way they’re supposed to be, the level has to be used on every single fence rail. It’s not a question of which fence rail you can ignore - it’s a question of how the carpenter does all of her work.

My oldest daughter is beginning to understand manners and the like. We’ve worked very hard to impress the need to say “Please” and “Thank you.” The inevitable developmental shift, of course, is this: now that she knows how to ask nicely, she’s come to believe that every time she asks nicely we’ll give her what she wants. “But I asked nicely!” is something we’re hearing a lot these days. She sees manners and politeness like I see the quarters I plug into the vending machine when I want a Diet Coke. In the same way, the lawyer sees care for the neighbor as the coin he must pay to earn eternal life - and if you can find a vending machine that gives you a soda for 50 cents instead of 65, wouldn’t that be all the better?

Parables are not fables. Parables do not have “morals of the story.” Parable are intended to shake up our world, to get in our heads and mess with what we know for certain that just ain’t so. Parables are intended to explode our smugness and certainty and replace them with faith - because, in the end, faith is all we have and faith is all we need. Notice that in some ways, Jesus never gives the lawyer a “certain” answer to his question. There’s no point at which the lawyer can say, “I’ve done enough good deeds for my neighbor - I’ve earned eternal life.” Morals and good deeds are only the after-effects of the gospel: until our certainty is based on Jesus and Jesus alone, we will have traded the good news of God’s love for the conditional requirements of vending-machine spirituality, which cannot save and leaves us empty in the end.

Darrell Guder writes, “The ‘gospel which meets my needs’ must be replaced with the good news that reveals needs I did not know I had while providing healing I never dreamed was possible.”2 This is what Jesus is after for the lawyer and for you. Certainty isn’t part of what we do in this world, at least when it comes to knowing who’s in and who’s out. Mercy is for everyone, love is for the world, and the church of Jesus Christ is called to lives of faith and love, not certainty and division. We should feel unsettled by what Jesus does - because that unsettled feeling is what happens when God rips down those parts of ourselves that are out of plumb and starts building them anew and righteous.

Erica Jong wrote a poem entitled “You Are There” which I think describes the feeling of being trued by God’s righteousness:

You are there.

You have always been

there.

Even when you thought

you were climbing 

you had already arrived.


Even when you were

breathing hard,

you were at rest.

Even then it was clear

you were there.



Not in our nature

to know what

is journey and what

arrival.

Even if we knew

we would not admit.

Even if we lived

we would think

we were just

germinating.



To live is to be

uncertain.

Certainty comes

at the end.

Certainty comes at the end. Until then, we walk by faith, trusting God to show us our neighbors in need, or to show our neighbors our own need. In the ditch, on the road, listening to Jesus - may we all be made uncertain, faithful followers of Jesus who love, and are loved by, all our neighbors. In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.

Damn - I Know I Came In Here For Something...

You Lutherans in the audience likely remember this little book. Augsburg Fortress has been making this appointment book for years. I've never used it myself (too small for my taste), but Larry, my campus pastor, carried one with a golf pencil rubber-banded onto it for as long as I knew him. Today's Friday Five is all about why we need such things...

a) What's the last thing you forgot?

Well, I bought tickets for a group trip to a DCI show in Des Moines next weekend, and I bought one for Beloved so she could come along, but forgot that she has a church commitment that night. Unfortunately, if I can't find someone to take the ticket, this one will cost us a little bit of money. Oops.

e) How do you keep track of appointments?

I used a Palm device from 2001 until just a few months ago when we got new phones. The new Palm devices are just too expensive, so we got Samsung Reclaim phones and I switched to Google Calendar, which is working pretty well so far. In other words, I haven't trusted my own memory for these things for nearly ten years, longer if you count the number of paper appointment books I kept before 2001.

i) Do you keep a running grocery list?

About half the time. We're in a bit of a grocery rut right now - toddler tastes don't vary much, so most of the time we're buying the same stuff every week. But we're getting food from a local CSA now, so hopefully we'll expand our palates a bit over the weeks to come.

o) When forced to improvise by circumstances, do you enjoy it or panic?
I'm not sure - I have the feeling what I think might not match what people see when circumstances happen. Generally, one of the things I love about being a minister is the flexibility. There are very few hard and fast administrative "rules" for us - basically, if you've got the sermon on Sunday and you're present in emergencies, the rest of your time is your own to manage as you see fit. I remember Larry Meyer telling me once, "When it comes to worship, you plan as much as you can in advance, make sure everyone's on the same page, and then you let what happens happen. Don't ignore surprises, but don't act like they ruin everything, either." I've adopted that wisdom for a fairly large portion of my life, and it seems to suit me just fine. Beloved would definitely disagree on this one, though - she does NOT enjoy being easy-going when it comes to deadlines, packing, etc. It's one of the few things to have actually caused fights in our marriage.

u) What's a memory you hope you will never forget?

Three in particular: our wedding day and the days Ainsley and Alanna were born. If I can hold on to those three, I'll be pretty good if everything else goes.

Now, has anyone seen my sunglasses?

Grace & peace,

Scott

In Which Old Things Become New-ish OR If There's Wallpaper Borders In Heaven I'm Not Sure I Want To Go.

Lots of you blowed up stuff real good over the weekend - good for you. We spent our lovely holiday weekend working around the house, literally. Lots of things to do for which we've finally scraped together some dough (including a generous guilt love offering related to the UB, which we gladly spent). We didn't get it all done this weekend, not by half, but we're off to a good start.

I need to say this first: when my wife gets the bit in her mouth, it's best just to let her go until she runs out of steam. HOLY. PAINTING. BATMAN. She's awesome, but exhausting to watch. We played the heathen this Sunday and stayed home, choosing to sleep in. Once everyone was awake, however, it was ON, baby. I corralled the kids downstairs while Beloved started scoring, soaking and scraping the awful wallpaper border off our dining room walls. No, it wasn't nearly as bad as some houses (my brother and his wife had six layers on one bedroom in their house, I think), but it's just freaking annoying to stand there and scrape above your head just so's you can slap on some new paint. At any rate, once she had the scraping done and sanded down the holes I'd spackled the night before, she jumped right into the painting.

At that point I could no longer control the Sisters downstairs, so upstairs we came to watch the progress. That meant "helping" Mommy, of course:

Meanwhile, we also made a trip to Lowe's and bought lots of fun new things for the house: new doors to replace the ones we ruined when the carpet was installed, drywall patches for the basement bedroom (yes, I finally got it patched, and will sand and texture tomorrow!), new curtain hardware for the dining room, stain for the doors and cabinets (and, eventually, the trim as well), and most importantly, new vinyl flooring for the kitchen. I wanted to do porcelain tile, but that was WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY out of our price range, so I'll have to wait to tackle that project. My brother's coming in a few weeks, and we'll send Beloved and the Sisters off to visit her sister while we boys install the vinyl (and likely take in a ballgame or something fun on our own).

I'm of two minds about this kind of home work. On the one hand, the clutter and mess drives me nuts. I HATE having things scattered hell to breakfast around our house, especially since Alanna has reached the "I can take everything out of this?" phase and regularly demolishes our movies and bookshelves. On the other hand, it's a lot of fun to see the end result of all that work, right? We're finishing up the dining room/kitchen painting tonight, so it'll be nice to see how all our work makes the house look that much nicer (and more in line with our taste as opposed to the former owners).

Best of all, we get to enjoy it for ourselves. We watch a lot of "house porn" these days (DIY and HGTV are two of the channels we didn't lose when we went to low-tier cable), and it seems like everything is geared toward increasing value for resale. While we're certainly not opposed to making money on the house, we're not going to be selling for a while, hopefully, so we made these changes for US to enjoy. That, combined with the satisfaction of doing the work ourselves, makes for some enjoyable living these last few days. Now if only I could keep the garage clean for one day...

Grace & peace,

Scott

Book Review: The Case for God

Lutheran Campus Ministry at Iowa State University hosts a "Theology for Lunch" group every Friday at noon during the school year. Last fall we tackled N.T. Wright's Surprised by Hope. This spring, because Wright wasn't deep enough, we took on The Case for God by Karen Armstrong. [check your sarcasm sensor - fully operational? Good] It was a very enriching semester for all of us.

This is my first experience with Karen Armstrong's work. Many have recommended her other works to me through the years, most especially A History of God and The Spiral Staircase. After our experience with The Case for God, I'll definitely add these titles to my list for future reading.

Contrary to what the title may lead the reader to expect, The Case for God is not an apologetic; at least, it is not an apologetic akin to anything I've previously read. As we drew near to the end of the book, I found myself mystified with the title altogether - it seems to draw the reader's attention away from the marvelous work Armstrong is doing toward an argument or proof that is never offered. Armstrong herself states that "quarreling about religion is counterproductive and not conducive to enlightenment." But she does offer, in the introduction, her rationale for this work:

The modern God is only one of the many theologies that developed during the three thousand year history of monotheism. Because "God" is infinite, nobody can have the last word. I am concerned that many people are confused about the nature of religious truth, a perplexity exacerbated by the contentious nature of so much religious discussion at the moment. My aim in this book is simply to bring something fresh to the table.

What she brings is an encompassing history of theology, religion and faith. Armstrong literally attempts to cover the waterfront: she begins in 30,000 BCE and ends with the "death of God" movement of the 1960s, the recent rise of neo-atheists and a touch of how the modern church might wish to respond. It's an ambitious project which Armstrong mostly carries off extremely well, focusing on what I believe are two main hypotheses:

1. The concept of faith as cognitive assent to a list of dogmatic assertions is a very modern development, post-Enlightenment at the very least if not later; and
2. The development of this concept has had an extremely detrimental effect upon the three monotheistic faiths (Christianity, Islam and Judaism) and their adherents.

In pursuit of these two hypotheses, Armstrong collects and presents an impressive collection of theologians, philosophers and intellectuals of every stripe and genre. In such an attempt, there are bound to be omissions, no matter how carefully one does one's research. I'll gladly admit that the omissions I noted were mainly of the Lutheran stripe - I would have preferred a deeper look at the Reformation, and an analysis of how the writings of Dietrich Bonhoeffer were co-opted by many in the "Death of God" movement. Others might have preferred a more detailed examination of their own faith tradition, especially as the Christian church has splintered into denominations over the past 1,000 years.

These are, however, minor quibbles. Nearly every page offers a great deal of thought-provoking analysis of religious faith, and Armstrong is remarkably even-handed in her praise and criticism. As those of us who love our churches venture deeper into the post-Christendom age, The Case for God is a valuable contribution to the church's conversation with itself and with the world in which we live. I highly recommend it, but only if you're ready to think deeply about God, theology and what it means to be people of faith.

Grace & peace,

Scott

Summery Friday Five

Songbird gave us the Friday Five this week, and it's all about summer. Here are three things I love, two things I don't come the longest time of theyear.

Three Summery Things I Love:

1. Swimmin' holes. Specifically, the new Furman Aquatic Center here in our lovely town of Ames (Kids' Pool pictured to the right by Ronnie Miller of the Ames Tribune). This water park has been ridiculously wonderful for us this summer - we bought a season pass (with some help from a good friend) and have already gotten return value for the big expense. The Sisters love nothing more than going to the Water Park on an afternoon, and at this point all they can do is walk around in the water and go down the kiddie slides. I can't wait to see how much they love it when they're big enough to go down the big water slides you can just see in the background.

I've loved going to the pool in the summer my whole life, and it's been fun going back with our girls and discovering, among other things, why running on a wet pool deck is never a good idea. Okay, maybe that last wasn't so much fun, but the rest certainly has been!

2. Cooking food with fire. Hot dog roasts, burgers and brats on the grill, hobo packs, corn on the cob wrapped in its own husks - you name it, if it can be cooked outdoors I'll give it a shot this time of year. I'd like to try pizza and a dutch oven roast sometime before this summer's out, and maybe if I get a little adventurous I'll attempt to smoke some ribs, too.

3. Baseball. I grew up in the Baseball Capital of Nebraska, and spent most of my summers pursuing America's pastime until I was 16 and, frankly, got burned out. Even though I haven't played in all the years since, I still love going to the ballpark to catch a game, and joining a summer church league for softball wouldn't be all bad, either. Our campus ministry makes at least one trip to Des Moines for an Iowa Cubs game each year, and it's always a highlight of the summer for me. Hopefully at some point in the near future I'll have the chance to catch a Twins game at Target Field in Minneapolis as well.

Two Summery Things I Don't Love So Much

1. Sun, Heat and Humidity. You can blame this one on my Swedo-Germanic ancestors, I guess. When it comes to the weather, I'm all for sunny days, but I love them best when accompanied by spring or fall temps. Well-insulated chaps like me don't react well to being constantly sweaty, itchy from heat rash and fried to a crisp. An additional frustration for me is the way my body selectively tans: my arms will get comfortably red, my legs will stay pasty white no matter how often I wear shorts, and my face and neck will burn no matter how much sunscreen I use. I bought a nice hat last fall, and hopefully the full-coverage brim will help keep the forehead blisters to a minimum this year.

2. Mosquitoes, the state bird of Minnesota. Nothing ruins a picnic or night at the beach/lake/ballpark/campfire faster than these flying vampires. Yet another reason I prefer autumn and spring: no bugs.

Bonus Target of Loathing: Junebugs

Please, feel free to fly around our porchlight all night, smack into our screens and generally scare the hell out of me or my family by flying into our faces, buzzing like the world's first vuvuzela. Yuk, yuk, yuk.

Ten Years of Running

Chris D at The Lutheran Zephyr wrote a great blog post yesterday about getting back to running. Because of that post, I've been thinking about my own running journey, and this afternoon, during my run, I realized I've been doing this for over ten years. Ten years, and God only knows how many miles, shoes and sweat later, I'm still at it.

I was an athlete in high school, though not the running kind. I was a pretty good offensive tackle and threw the shot in track. Lifted lots of weights and even benched 300 lbs during football my senior year. But since I stopped growing at 5'11" or so, doing any kind of athletics at the University of Nebraska was out of the question - I was a few inches too short to play on the line, and far too slow to play anywhere else. Unfortunately, I kept eating like I was an athlete, and a few years later I had ballooned from 225 lbs to somewhere in the vicinity of 270 lbs. I ate, I smoked, I drank and I didn't exercise outside of the occasional church league volleyball and softball games. So, by the time I got to seminary, I was a pretty hefty boy.

Even so, I never really thought about my health all that much, and frankly, I started running because of FW. During our first year of marriage she enlisted in the Army Reserve, and we both started running; sometimes together, sometimes on our own. For me, it was pretty ugly at the start: jog a few minutes, walk a few minutes. Heart pounding, sweat coursing down my face, but at the same time, feeling really good. I didn't lose a lot of weight at first, but I started feeling better very quickly. Luther Seminary is located right next to St. Anthony Park, one of the more picturesque neighborhoods of the Minneapolis/St. Paul metro area, and I took advantage of it, developing routes that would take me past some of the most beautiful houses in the area. It was especially nice in the autumn months - running through drifts of blazing orange, red and even violet with that crisp air in my lungs made me glad to be running. Between pounding out the miles around my parents' farm that first summer while doing CPE in nearby Sioux City, IA and foraging farther and farther afield when I got back to Luther, I eventually did start losing a little weight and feeling as though I was actually someone you'd call a "runner." It was a great feeling.

When FW and I separated during my internship in Titusville, FL, running was one of the primary ways I tried to cope with the emotional turbulence of the time. I ran almost every day, cut out a lot of the awful foods I'd been eating, and the pounds just melted away. I eventually dropped to under 200 lbs for the first time since my sophomore year of high school, and people got nervous. But at the time I was probably running between 30 and 40 miles a week, which burns a LOT of calories. I was putting in some good times, too, for a former nose tackle - in those days, I RAN when I ran. When I went to California to try and make things work with FW, I ran. When things didn't work and I went back to seminary, I ran. When Beloved and I started dating and I started spending time with her and her family, I ran. When I was called to be a pastor in Barrett, MN, I ran around the lake, around town, out into the country, wherever it felt like I ought to be running. It was genuinely a part of who I was.

A few weeks after my Grandma Johnson's death in 2006, I was diagnosed with mild depression, and as a means of doing something crazy to break out of the funk, I entered the Fargo Marathon. I downloaded a training program from Runner's World and followed it pretty closely, including my 20 mile long run that I completed in four five-mile loops on an awful, rainy Saturday in early April. I ran the marathon and had a blast, finishing in 4:35. I remember thinking, "this is fun - I could totally do this in under four hours, though."

Heh - what did I know? You see this picture of me and Beloved after that first marathon? I'm smiling because I'm feeling awesome. (Okay, actually, at this point I couldn't feel my face, and I had to go get an IV about 5 minutes later because I started slurring my words and almost fell down, but I still felt AWESOME for finishing a marathon) She's smiling because she's pregnant with Ainsley, and she's going to tell me two days later, after confirming it with her doctor. Hello, new priorities: goodbye, carefree 4-milers whenever I can lace up my shoes.

As far as running goes, the last four years have been Heartbreak Hill: miserable, soul-crushing, uphill and a daunting challenge that never seems to end. It's not all due to the addition of the Sisters: my body is catching up with me, and it's been harder and harder to keep myself in running shape. Back problems, foot problems, sleep deprivation and, most of all, parental responsibilities have combined to make any kind of consistent exercise difficult to accomplish. I've swelled back up to 230 lbs, and for every run that feels great, I often have to fight through two that feel like running through quik-dry concrete. I am absolutely not complaining about being a parent here: it's just that making the right choice has had consequences about which I'm not particularly thrilled.

However, things seem to be changing of late. As Ainsley and Alanna grow older, I don't feel quite so guilty asking Beloved for time to go running. In the last month especially, as Alanna begins to learn to talk and, therefore, becomes far less exhausting to parent, we're both finding time to get out and be physical, to walk and run and mow the lawn (with a reel mower, not a motored mower) and work on the yard and do some of the things you can't do with an infant underfoot. Best of all, the girls are getting into the act. If they see me in shorts and my trusty adidas Supernovas they ask, "Are you going on a run, Daddy?" And they seem excited by the prospect. Kristin says when they see me out running on their way back from preschool or the gym, they scream with delight from their car seats. So I ask myself, "if they think I'm a runner, who am I to act otherwise?"

In 2008 I ran Grandma's Marathon in Duluth with very little training. I basically gutted out a 4:39 I had no business achieving. This year, I'm going to run the Des Moines Marathon in October, and for the first time since before Alanna was born, I'm excited to be working toward a running goal. True, things are different now than they were ten years ago, but I'm still eating miles, and whether I slog through a terrible tempo run like I did today or fly through a great easy 3-miler like I did on Monday, I'm still a runner - and I hope that ten years from now I'll be able to say the same thing again.

Grace & peace,
Scott

Pop Culture Roundup

It's been a while since I've done a PCR, but here are a few things worth mentioning that have been going down the pike lately.

Pandorum - had a free night not so long ago and watched this sci-fi/horror flick on teh interwebs. I'm happy to say it wasn't a waste of time. Good movie: scary in parts, not completely predictable, and a really good twist at the end make this movie pretty good, really. If you liked Alien, Event Horizon or Pitch Black you'll probably get a kick out of this one.

The Wheel of Time - I'm up to book six now, and continuing to move as quickly as I can. This series has become my late-night reading, and I usually get through at least 30 minutes before I drop my Kindle on my chest and fall asleep (sign of a good book - you can remember where you were when you fell asleep). I think this will be the last time through the ENTIRE series for a while, though - reading through all of this for each of the last three soon-to-be-released titles would take years of reading other stuff away from me.

Odd Thomas - I've wanted to check this series out for a while, and recently listened to the audio versions via our local public library's free download service. It's pretty cool - you can get lots of different books for iPod for free; I'd be willing to bet that most regional library systems have something similar. Audible's great and all, but free is better than cheap six days a week and twice on Sunday. Anyway, Odd Thomas is an interesting series. The first novel, Odd Thomas, is by far the best. Odd Thomas is a short order cook who can see and interact with the lingering spirits of the dead. He has to solve a massive killing spree he knows is coming to his beloved hometown. The second novel, Forever Odd, was hard to follow in audio format. It mainly takes place in an abandoned casino hotel, and without the ability to skip back a page or two to check something you might have missed, it gets confusing. Other reviewers said the book wasn't all that great, either. The third novel, Brother Odd, comes close to capturing the feel of the first, though unfortunately it's a bit too self-referential for my taste at times. Mysteries all, Odd is a likable character I hope to continue reading in the future.

Blood, Sweat and Tears - I caught the tail end of "Lucretia McEvil" on the radio last week and realized I hadn't added these guys to the new iPod yet. If you like early Chicago, get on this now. If you think "You're the Inspiration" was the pinnacle of Chicago's run, get out. Seriously. Get out now.

Enjoy!

Scott

On Worship and "Issues"

I really try not to engage in church schadenfreude, as it's not particularly polite. Brother Martin might even argue it's a violation of the 8th Commandment. Whatever - today I'm engaging in it just a little bit because of this. Suffice it to say that if you're dumb enough to publicly state "God's will" endorsing your own interpretation of what to do and where to go, some of us will find a lot of humor watching it blow up in your face.

The comments led me to pondering how to be healthier in dealing with issues that can be divisive. One commenter at the Pretty Good Lutherans story mentioned that at her church, an officer of the congregation was allowed to state his/her "side" on an issue during worship, which to me seemed a gross violation of the way to go about being the church together, regardless of the issue/interpretation at hand.

It comes down to this: whatever our differences may be, they all pale, dramatically, in comparison to the duty and joy of worshiping God together. One of the primary responsibilities I have as pastor to a community of faith is to ensure that whatever the issues, whatever our differences may be, we are first and foremost a band of sinners called and gathered by the Holy Spirit to praise, thank, serve and obey God - together. If we can't worship together, can we really expect to do anything else together?

I recently had the opportunity to worship with one of the primary movers and shakers in The Unbloggableness. Seeing that person walk into the room and sit down made me instantly furious all over again. Not the most conducive mindset for worship, right? But in the course of the hour, hearing God's word together and receiving the body and blood of Christ together reminded me that whatever our differences, we are both sinners in need of forgiveness. In fact, Jesus insisted that reconciliation is more important than worship, something with which I have struggled over the past few months. I'm not reconciled to this person, and at this point, I'm no longer trying to be. Try as we might, sometimes we simply cannot reconcile ourselves to one another, and perhaps it is at this point that a severing is the best way forward. I'm sorry that it came to this, and I'll admit that I'm to blame, not completely, but I'm definitely part of the problem here. Rather than continuing to be part of the problem, we went our separate ways, and maybe that's partially what Jesus was saying. I think he knew that not every disagreement can be reconciled, for an infinite number of reasons. Better to worship with a new community, perhaps, than to continue pretending all is well in the old when it is not.

Using worship as a venue to promote a specific agenda, however, is wrong in every instance. Worship is about God, not us. Worship is about proclaiming the gospel, not airing the dirty laundry. Worship is about being God's baptized and forgiven children, not squabbling over the petty daily problems that arise whenever two or more sinners have to rub elbows regularly. Of course, the old sinner within us will try to violate the sanctity of worship from time to time. I've done it, and regretted it almost from the instant I did it. I've seen it happen in other places, and the end result is never pretty. Pastors walk a particularly fine line at all times, since we have, by far, the greatest number of chances to hijack the gospel to serve our own ends.

There is a genuine need to discern the will of a congregation when division is present and anxiety is high. Upholding the sanctity of worship does not permit any of us to willfully ignore problems, nor does it give pastors and worship leaders the right to duck the challenge of the gospel when it needs to be spoken boldly. We all need to be reminded, however, that no matter how our discernment may differ, we have a responsibility to one another to refrain from threatening or impugning the devotion of our brothers and sisters with whom we worship. Paying lip service alone won't cut it - if we are to be authentic, cohesive communities of faith, we must use our worship time for adoration and our discussion time for conversation, and in all things we must assume that each and every one of us is being as faithful as we can be. Perhaps that's what was missing in the case of Schadenfreude Lutheran Church above - the assumption that, regardless of the difference, they were all faithful people attempting to find the faithful way forward. I pray for healing, and for humility on the part of all of us as we continue to seek for ways to live together, faithfully.

Grace & peace,

Scott

Evening Prayer Sermon: "Gran Torino" and The Prodigal Son

[If you've not seen the movie Gran Torino, beware: SPOILER ALERT.]

I recently started an adult education class on the parable of the Prodigal Son at a local ELCA congregation, using Tim Keller's "The Prodigal God." In it, Keller insists, as do many, that the problem with both the elder son and the younger son is this: they want their father's things, but not a relationship with their father. I wasn't particularly convinced by Keller's argument until Beloved and I watched the movie Gran Torino this weekend.

There is really only one surprise in Gran Torino, and since it doesn't have to do with the point I'm making here, I won't ruin it for you. Clint Eastwood is a gruff, reclusive retired auto plant worker in Detroit, angry about all the "gooks" (his word, not mine - the movie makes it clear they are Hmong) taking over his neighborhood. One of his neighbors tries to steal his car as a gang initiation act, but when the gang members threaten the boy's family with violence on his own property, Clint chases them all away: "Get off my lawn!" His neighbors honor his courage by inviting him into their family, more or less, and Clint begins to see that these people aren't so different than himself once you get past the cultural distinctions. Meanwhile, his relationship with his own children suffers as they focus on "dealing" with him and his cantankerous nature. Two scenes in particular stand out: in the first, his granddaughter bluntly asks Clint if she can have his beautiful 1972 Ford Gran Torino when he dies; in the second, Clint's son and daughter-in-law use his birthday as a chance to try to wheedle him into a retirement home, only to be rudely thrown out of the house and told to mind their own damn business.

All of this is as obvious as the nose on your face - you can see things coming a mile away, mostly, I think, because the people who put this movie together know what it's like to be real, flawed, broken people. There's nothing particularly noble about what gets Clint involved, but once he knows his neighbors as actual people, he begins to care for them. Likewise, the wall between Clint and his kids is obviously the product of years of missed opportunities and disappointments, built one painful brick at a time, and it doesn't come down easily (or completely, even in the end). Clint Eastwood's character is a man who's done everything right for his family: earned a living, fought in Korea, provided for his children so they can have more than he had. In thanks he has two sons who drive Asian import vehicles on their rare visits to his house (paid for by wages earned at the Ford factory), grandkids who refuse to even come at all, and neighbors who bear a suspicious resemblance to the soldiers he killed in Korea. Life is most definitely not perfect, even for the virtuous.

Our virtues can be every last bit as sinful as our vices, and they are infinitely more dangerous because of their moral excellence. In the Wheel of Time series, author Robert Jordan wrote a character named Galad, who does what is right "no matter who he hurts." It would be so much easier if life were as neatly wrapped up as a fable from Aesop, but often there is no "moral of the story." We live one hour, one day, one week at a time, and the little chinks in the armor that lead to genuine love can just as easily be chinks that lead to a lot of pain and sorrow.

Jesus calls us to love, not to being morally excellent. It's an easy thing to forget, because the two quite often resemble each other. I know I've forgotten it in my own life: in the pursuit of being right, I've injured people I love, sometimes deeply. I know you have, too. We cannot go back and undo our past mistakes, but we can seek forgiveness and, more importantly, love our families and neighbors for who they are, right now.

Rich Mullins wrote a song called "Brother's Keeper." It might have done the two brothers of the parable some good to listen to it, especially the chorus:

I will be my brother's keeper, not the one who judges him -

I won't despise him for his weakness, I won't regard him for his strength -

I won't take away his freedom - I will help him learn to stand,

and I will be my brother's keeper.

May we be keepers of each other, now and forever. Amen.

Money Pit or Ministry Center?

When most people who serve professionally in the church (pastors, deacons & deaconesses, diaconal ministers, associates in ministry, etc) envision their careers, do they imagine being required to rebuild something like the sanctuary to my right? I doubt it. Of course, accidents happen, tornadoes and hurricanes and floods strike, and some of us get thrust into building programs we can't avoid because we can't walk away when disaster strikes. That kind of work is honorable and worthy of praise - but it's not what I'm talking about here.

Our campus ministry center is big, old, and in need of a lot of work. A whole lotta work. Like, a crap-ton of work. A good chunk of work got done under my predecessor, and what was done got done well. But that was just the necessary stuff, things to keep the building for falling in on itself. There's a lot to do - and I'm wondering: why, exactly, do we have to do it?

Our Synod Assembly was recently held at Lutheran Church of Hope, one of the largest churches in the ELCA. The place feels like an airport or a new middle school, complete with cafeteria space, a gymnasium, a coffee shop and two worship spaces that hold lots and lots and lots and lots of people. It's an incredible facility, well-built, well-managed, and obviously well-loved, given the number of people that worship there on any given weekend. Even though it's not really the place I'd call home spiritually, I'm glad they're there, and I think the ministry they do is, in many ways, very well done and an important witness to the good news of Jesus Christ. Now, I'm sure they've got lots of qualified people on their staff to handle maintenance there, to make sure stuff gets done the way it needs to get done, but as the pastor in a church with three paid staff, and me being the only one above 20 hours a week, I looked around that church in Des Moines and thought, "Man, I'm glad I'm not in charge here!"

When I first thought about ministry, buildings were the furthest thing from my mind. Bible study? Yeah. Preaching? Of course. Reading and thinking and teaching about God? Absolutely. Caring for the sick and building trusting relationships with the people I serve? No question. But caring for a building? Not even on my radar. Talk about ignorant.

There will be a lot of us in my position in the next 20-40 years: ministry leaders in places where the buildings are far larger than required for the worshiping community and in far more disrepair than is healthy. No, ministry is not all about the building, but we need to be asking ourselves some tough questions in the future:

• "Can we take care of this building, or are there others who could use it more effectively?"
• "Why do we pay so much for a building that is only properly used once a week?"
• "Do we make our building available for public, non-church events, or do we abdicate our building in favor of a more flexible, less labor-intensive way of gathering as a community?"

I'm not planning on going anywhere just yet, but the thought of being the pastor of a church with no facility to manage has some attraction to me. A coffee-shop office and worship in some public space once a week might be the way some of us will have to go - and it might even be more faithful to do so. Not everyone needs a place like Lutheran Church of Hope. Some do, and the "established" church building, with sanctuaries and Sunday School rooms and the like will probably never go away completely. But I think a lot of us are going to need to be creative about our facilities and our communities in the coming years, so that we don't make the mistake of chaining ourselves to money pits we can't manage properly. Every church, from Joel Osteen's big digs in San Antonio to the tiny little church I attended during seminary, is a ministry center - here's hoping we all find ourselves centered where we can actually do ministry.

Grace & peace,

Scott

"Turn the Car Around and Get the Hell Out of Town"*

The U.B. ended today. Now the hard march of post-U.B. reality begins, with all the emotional and financial repercussions we knew it would entail. I'm still trying to make sense of what happened, and trying to deal with the anger, betrayal and frustration for which I still don't have a productive outlet, but at least no one's dumping more shit on top of the pile anymore.

Praise be to God, a few more boxes moved and the leaving will be done. Time to shake off the dust and mourn what has been lost: friendships, trust, the ability to forgive. This mourning will be a long, lonely road but, as I noted before, at least Beloved and I will travel together, as we've done since the U.B. first started spreading its poison.

To those who've walked this journey with us, loved on us, supported us, prayed for us: thank you. Your continued prayers will be appreciated. As soon as we get our hearts and heads straight, I'll be back to blogging a bit more regularly, but for now we need to tend to ourselves.

The peace of the Triune God be with you all.

Scott

*A line from "What Was Wrong" by Storyhill

Pop Culture Roundup

What a week for television, huh? Yes, I was a Lost watcher and yes, the finale was incredible. Beyond that, much more intelligent people than I are breaking it down in much better ways, so let's just leave it at that, shall we? Just. Freaking. Incredible. 'Nuff said.

I've also been following V and Fringe. The thought occurred to me this morning, after finally catching the Fringe season finale, that they exist along an interesting continuum. Toward one extreme, there's Lost, where nothing is ever explained and much remains mystery, so much so that it alienated a lot of early fans. Toward the other, you have V, which I'm sorry to say will likely not be back in the rotation in the fall because every single crisis is telegraphed so completely my three-year-old could easily follow the show. (Not to mention the glaring problem of a super-evolved species that can track anything that moves on the planet below, embed cameras in their own uniforms to monitor the human population, and discover a secret meeting of rebels with some dart-throwing remote robot, but remains mystified by the common cell phone and a group of rebels on their own ships who have conversations with human resistance groups IN PUBLICLY TRAVELED HALLWAYS) Then, in the middle, you have Fringe, which is rapidly rising to X-Files level satisfaction (the Mulder years, that is). I am really interested to see where Fringe goes next, as the first season has been tremendously satisfying.

Beloved and I caught two movies last week: I Love You, Man and Sherlock Holmes. We enjoyed both quite a bit. I'm not sure why everyone got so bent out of shape by Sherlock Holmes: it seemed faithful to the Holmes I remember from the stories, and if Robert Downey, Jr. isn't Basil Rathbone, well, what of it? We enjoyed the film very much. I Love You, Man was a very, very big surprise. I expected just a few laughs, with a completely predictable ending, but got more than a few laughs and an ending that shakes up the pretenses just a bit. A good movie for a date night with the spouse if you don't mind more than a few obscene jokes about sex.

I'm listening to Odd Thomas by Dean Koontz right now, and liking what I'm hearing. To my recollection this is the first book by Koontz for me, but at the very least I'll be listening to the rest, as they are all on our library's free audiobook download program. Your library might have something similar - you should check it out.

That's pretty much the pop culture roundup here. I've been taking a break from blogging as we are approaching the end of the U.B., and my attention needs to be focused elsewhere. Thankfully that particular charlie foxtrot will soon be navigated and behind us, and we can turn our attention to better things. Your prayers for the next few days, however, would be appreciated.

Grace & peace,

Scott

Going to Worship with Denis Leary

I went to church with Denis Leary this morning.

In a manner of speaking, of course - no, Denis Leary did not make his way to an ELCA congregation in rural Iowa. At least, if he did, no one noticed. But I went to worship with him all the same.

I was in a bad mood this morning. For some reason, the Unbloggableness (henceforth known as "U.B." because I'm tired of typing out the whole thing) popped into my head as I was leaving the house for a supply date at a local congregation. Ten minutes of seething behind the wheel is not a good way to prepare oneself to preach to a group of people who've recently lost an interim pastor to illness and haven't seen you in two years. I tried various musics and podcasts and just couldn't get my mind of the shitty turn things had taken vis-a-vis the U.B. No particular reason - I guess this morning was just my turn on the shit wheel. It happens, you know.

I pulled into a drive-thru coffee shop for some extra caffeine and scrolled through my iPod while I was waiting for the car in front of me to get their order when "No Cure for Cancer" popped up. Some of you may have forgotten this little gem, or maybe you're too young to remember that Denis Leary was a comedian long before "Rescue Me" or any of the other projects he's done as an actor. His act is not for the uptight or easily offended, especially when it comes to religion, Catholicism in particular. For some reason, his combination of anger and profanity was just what I needed to put me in the right state of mind. I laughed all the way to the church, enjoyed the service tremendously, including several conversations with members after worship, and then I laughed all the way home. In fact, I had a great day after a lousy start, thanks to Denis Leary and the myriad ways he can use the F-bomb in the course of a single rant.

Perhaps this is a sign of the life we've been living lately: the best pick-me-up I've had in months came from a guy screaming, "Your life didn't turn out the way you wanted it to? Hey, pal, I wanted to be the starting centerfielder for the Boston Red Sox. Life sucks: get a fucking helmet!" We have so much for which we are rightfully thankful, yet the U.B. has made us perpetually aware how quickly things can change and how dreadfully we can be hurt.

What I have always appreciated about Denis Leary is his absolute refusal to engage in bullshit. Having been a fan for years, I've caught him on talk shows and other places and have always enjoyed the fact that he simply doesn't care how you feel about what he says. We both work in words, Denis Leary and I, yet he has a freedom of which I can only dream, for the most part. The more outrageous his act, the more people will come to hear it, whereas my job is to disappear entirely and let Jesus be the outrageous one, and me simply the guy pointing directly at him.

I don't want to be a person who engages in bullshit. We've got far too little time on this earth to waste it saying things we don't mean and putting up with crap that isn't true. There are far too many of us in the church who value tranquility and "niceness" above all other characteristics, when what might be more healthy is a good dose of plain speaking or even anger at times. I don't mean the kind of vengeful, hateful anger that seeks the destruction of what is good, of course, but there is certainly a place for anger about mistreatment, unrepentant sin and the expectation that bullshit is better than honesty that might get uncomfortable.

There's no grandiose statement here at the end of this reflection. I won't promise to call "Bullshit!" whenever I see it (even though it's a wicked fun game and you should try it sometime). I just had a good ride to church with Denis today and thought you should hear about it. He's a good guy, that Denis - his language is a little rough, but he says the kind of things I often think in my head but don't have the guts to say out loud. I think he and I should ride to church together more often; if you want to come along, don't say I didn't warn you.

Grace & peace,

Scott

Family Tree Friday Five

Playing the Friday Five this week from RevGalBlogPals.

1. Do you have any interest in geneaology?
I do and I don't. I like getting the stories and knowing more about where I come from, but I'm not at all interested in the hours of searching records to do it. Thankfully, on my Dad's side my uncle Warren has done that for us. No one has stepped up on Mom's side as of yet, but maybe, in spite of my reluctance, that'll be me someday?

2. Which countries did your ancestors come from?

Mom's side comes from Germany and Dad's side comes from Sweden. My great-grandfather Spangler emigrated to the U.S. in 1906, so part of my family has been here just over a century.

3. Who is the farthest back ancestor whose name you know?

Off the top of my head it's just my great-grandparents, but I remember from reading through the work my uncle has done that there were several people with the name Johannes in the mix in further generations back.

4. Any favorite saints or sinners in the group?
We don't have a lot of stories about our skeletons - midwestern Lutherans of all ethnic stripes tend to keep the darker secrets close to the vest. I know some of the struggles my grandparents faced getting through the Depression; my grandfather told my dad they were reduced to grinding and boiling their own field corn for food one fall. But I have many, many fond memories of the family I knew:

• The last thing my Grandpa Janke said to me before he died was how proud he was of me for winning our local spelling bee in 6th grade.
• My Grandpa Johnson loved candy orange slices, had a laugh that has passed to my uncle Warren and now to me at times, and he could sing like no one's business.
• My Grandma Johnson loved nothing better than having the family together as often as possible. Sometimes I think she held on to her house as steadfastly as she did because she knew how hard it would be to do holidays together once she moved to the nursing home.
• My Grandma Janke loves to tell stories about her family and her faith, and is ridiculously proud of her two pastor grandsons (well, almost pastor in the case of my cousin Ryan - he's in college and planning to go to an LCMS seminary after graduation).

5. What would you want your descendants to remember about you?

If I could be remembered like my grandparents I'd be very, very happy: kind, loyal, faithful, generous, firm in character, hard-working and humble. I know it's a parody of midwestern Scandinavian Lutherans to love this about my roots, but I won't apologize for the better aspects of what Garrison Keillor so richly satirizes.

Bonus: a song, prayer, or poem that speaks of family--blood or chosen--to you.

I know it's Rich, again, but I've thought of my family from the first time I heard "First Family." No, we didn't grow up in Indiana, and there were three of us kids, not five, but the feel of this song is EXACTLY what I remember from my youth, and I love it very much.

• First Family by Rich Mullins

More Rich Mullins music on iLike

Grace & peace,

Scott

Six Sixes For 36

Hi there - remember me?

In the time since we've last been together, I turned 36. Thirty-freaking-six. This is not a complaint - this is reality landing on my head. I am fully and completely, 100% an adult now. I actually have been for some time, but the combination of kids/age/working with actual college students/starting to go bald just hit me harder this year. Again - not complaining, just amazed. From here on out, I'm going to be living in an age I can remember my parents occupying.

So, then, to commemorate the occasion, here's a list of six sixes for 36. These are by no means comprehensive, they are rather the scattered thoughts of a frazzled husband, father and preacher who is having the time of his life (for the most part).

Six People (or groups of people) Who Mean The World To Me

1. Beloved - natch.

2. The Sisters - you get one spot because I don't want to put one of you in front of the other.

3. My Brothers, Brian & Kevin - see above.

4. My Parents, Alan & Eunice - see above above.

5. The Cape Cod Boys and everyone connected with the Cape Cod "Gang" (You know who you are)

6. Anyone who's ever spent a summer working at Carol Joy Holling Camp in Ashland, NE.

Six Things I Want To Do Before I Die

1. Take Beloved to Europe for a major anniversary trip, and while on that trip drink a pint of Guinness in Dublin and a pint of dunkelbier at the Kartoffelhaus in Lutherstadt-Wittenberg, Germany.

2. RAGBRAI and BRAN. (Fun fact: My uncle rode BRAN a few years ago and rode through our hometown on his 50th birthday. I think that's just cool)

3. Go to the Grand Canyon, Yellowstone, Yosemite and Glacier National Parks with the kids.

4. Own a motorcycle.

5. Qualify for Boston (hey, I didn't say I WILL do it, just that I WANT to...)

6. Publish a novel (see above).

Six Books I Plan To Read Very Soon

1. Rabbit, Run by John Updike.

2. The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner.

3. Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy

4. The Killer Angels by Michael Shaara

5. To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee

6. Catcher In The Rye by J.D. Salinger

Six Things I Want To Do Around The House This Summer

1. Repair the drywall and replace the light fixture in the downstairs bedroom.

2. Tear down, move and rebuild the storage shed in the back yard.

3. Prepare a garden for next year.

4. Build a new gate for the west entrance to the backyard.

5. Paint the dining room table and chairs.

6. Install a "work sink" in the basement.

Six Bloggers Who've Inspired Me

1. Jules. Our family and hers are occupying a similar reality separated by approximately eight months (I think). She's been a good friend and internet shoulder throughout.

2. Tripp. Dude is the most Lutheran AngloBaptist I know. Also, he likes celtic music and plays in a band. Pretty cool.

3. Gordon Atkinson. I remember someone mentioning, "Hey, you should check out this guy who writes at reallivepreacher.com sometime - he's a Baptist, but he gets this ministry gig." And how. How can you not love a writer who dreams about Martin Luther, Canned Soup and Diet Coke?

4. Jan Edmiston. The most consistently valuable blogger - Jan is "here" every day, and always chewing on something worthwhile. The fact that she's a Lost fan is just a nice bonus.

5. CoffeePastor. Protestant pastor/philosopher who likes coffee, college football and reading good books. Need I say more?

6. Chris Duckworth. East Coast Lutheran who loves politics, baseball and talking about grace and faith. Kind of a nice, Lutheran, Democratic-leaning George Will? *

Six Great Places/Things/Whatever That You Might Not Know About

1. The Cafe, Ames, IA

This has rapidly become our favorite restaurant here in Ames. The Cafe offers incredibly good food, fast, friendly service and ridiculously reasonable prices. We are blessed with some good restaurants for a college town this size, but for our money the Cafe is head and shoulders above the rest.

2. "Once"

"Falling Slowly" won the Oscar for Best Song a few years back, but I'm still as impressed by this movie the longer out we are from it. This is a beautiful little indie film that feels about as real as it gets.

3. The Fargo Marathon

My first marathon was in Fargo in 2006. I have yet to have a race experience to rival it. The town turns itself out for this race, whether you're doing the half or the full, and you always end your run on the big screen inside the Fargodome. If you're a runner in the midwest, this is worth your time and training.

4. Every Day Should Be Saturday

Not for the faint of heart or small of mind, and most certainly not for children. But it's a rare day when something on this awesome college football blog doesn't reduce me to snorting coffee out my nose.

5. Almond Bark Espresso Peanut Butter Fudge

Well, according to our babysitter, that last ingredient isn't in there - it's just what her concoction most resembles when she's done. Basically, you melt Almond Bark, mix in peanut butter and ground espresso beans, pour into a cooling dish and enjoy sweet caffeinated goodness when it's set up. Nummers.

6. Timberpine Lodge Bed & Breakfast, Adel, IA

Beloved and I stayed there last summer to celebrate our 5th anniversary. Lovely secluded B&B with a friendly staff and good coffee. The jacuzzi tub is a definite bonus.

So, that's the story a week out from 36. See you next year for something completely different.

Grace & peace,

Scott

Sermon for the Fifth Sunday of Easter - "I Want To Know What Love Is"

Preaching Texts

There’s a song from the ‘80s that’s been going through my head this week: “I Want To Know What Love Is” by Foreigner. The lyrics I remember go like this:

“In my life there’s been heartache and pain

I don’t know if I can face it again

Can’t stop now, I’ve traveled so far to change this lonely life

I want to know what love is

I want you to show me

I want to feel what love is

I know you can show me…”

This is the question I want answered when Jesus says, “I give you a new commandment: that you love one another.” I don’t know about you, but I’m not sure I’m qualified to understand exactly what it is Jesus wants us to do. So that’s the question for us this morning: what does it mean to love like Jesus wants us to love?

Jonathan Swift once said, “We have just enough religion to make us hate, but not enough to make us love one another.” [1] I’m sorry to say it seems sometimes as though he’s hit the nail right on the head. We have done some awful things in the name of Jesus through the centuries. We brought the Crusades to Jerusalem and Palestine. We tried to forcibly convert non-Christians through torture and the threat of execution in the Inquisition. We contributed to much of the conflict that led to the Thirty Years War. We used scripture to justify both sides in the Civil War, and in modern days, Christians took part in the Holocaust and continue to demonize certain portions of the population through the work of people like Fred Phelps and other hate groups. Now, you might say, “But Pastor Scott, I wasn’t part of those things.” Unfortunately, you were, to the extent that all of us are, through baptism, members of the body of Christ, to say nothing of the common creation we believe we all share as God’s children. God has been used to justify hate of nearly every kind and type for as long as human memory exists. It is woven into the very fabric of our bondage to sin. As writer Anne Lamott says, “You can safely assume you’ve created God in your own image when it turns out God hates all the same people you do.” (from Traveling Mercies)

Perhaps a bit of context would be helpful at this point. John 13 is the beginning of the end for Jesus. It’s the night before the crucifixion, and Jesus knows what is about to happen. As a matter of fact, just before Jesus said these things, he sent Judas out to do what he had to do. Judas went into the dark to betray Jesus, and Jesus didn’t hold him back. Once Judas was gone, Jesus launched into his last talk with the eleven disciples, and the first thing he said was, “Love one another as I have loved you.” Who knows how long it would have taken Judas to do his work? He might have had soldiers waiting right outside the door. When your time is running out, you make sure you say the most important things first, and for Jesus the most important message was this: “Love one another as I have loved you.”

So what is it Jesus is talking about when he commands us to love as he has loved? First off, we need to remember that this new commandment isn’t new! Jesus is quoting here, from what his faith and his church called the two Great Commandments: love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, all your mind and all your strength, and love your neighbor as yourself. Those great commandments come from the Old Testament: Deuteronomy 6.4-5, known as the Shema, and Leviticus 19.18. This is a commandment every Jew would have known from the day they were old enough to talk. So, how is Jesus making this new? It isn’t the love that’s new, it’s the person who loves, and how he has loved and continues to love his people. In the Greek: it’s all one sentence: Jesus says, “Love one another as I have loved you.”

Now we can begin to look for how Jesus loves. The word is agape and its primary meaning isn’t “sentimental warm feelings toward one another.” Agape love is “self-giving love for one another.” Agape love is known as kenotic love – it empties itself our for the sake of another, like a water bottle pours its liquid down your throat to quench your thirst and give you life. Where does Jesus embody kenosis most clearly? On the cross. Gail O’Day says,

“To interpret Jesus' death as the ultimate act of love enables the believers to see that the love to which Jesus summons the community is not the giving up of one's life, but the giving away of one's life. The distinction between these prepositions is important, because the love that Jesus embodies is grace, not sacrifice. Jesus gave his life to his disciples as an expression of the fullness of his relationship with God and of God's love for the world. Jesus' death in love, therefore, was not an act of self-denial, but an act of fullness, of living out his life and identity fully, even when that living would ultimately lead to death.”[2]

The cross is where Jesus pours himself out for the sake of the world. It isn’t a sacrifice to satisfy a blood-thirsty God: it is a refusal to hold anything back, even unfair, horrific execution. John 13.2 says, “Having loved his own who were in the world, [Jesus] loved them to the end.” Later, on the cross, Jesus says “It is finished.” In other words, “THE END.” Jesus doesn’t call us to give up our lives: Jesus commands us to give away our lives, right up to the very end.

And this is, in the end, what it’s all about, isn’t it? David Lose says,

“What gives Jesus' statement power is not only its brevity but its focus. It's the one thing – perhaps, if push comes to shove, the one and only thing – Jesus wants his disciples to know and remember when he is gone: love one another. Not "Evangelize one another." Not "Keep each other accountable." Not "Give more money to the church." Not "Resist temptation." Not "Make me proud." Not any of the other hundred things we regularly hear lifted up as the pinnacle and priority of the Christian life, but rather this: "Love one another."[3]

Here our other readings today give us the picture we need, an incomplete foretaste of how it is that we are called to love. In the reading from Acts, the church is asked to consider a new vision: what does it look like when we live with one another as equals, the same, not as those divided by practice and prejudice? Peter’s embrace of Gentiles, people considered “unclean” by Old Testament standards, shows us that love sees no partiality. Jesus came to be a light to the NATIONS, not to A nation. Peter gets shaken out of himself into a new reality where circumcised and uncircumcised alike are beloved children of God. Put into terms we can understand today, the message is this: “We’ve always done it this way” is no way to love one another, especially when it constructs false boundaries between God’s children.

In the end, though, because of who we are and how we are bound to sin, the love we give to one another will be flawed and imperfect. Our best intentions cannot keep us from sin: sometimes they’re the very thing that leads to it. That’s where Revelation provides the ultimate picture of what is coming. Some have used Revelation as a means to frighten people into an intellectual faith based on fear and a “wager” that betting on God is the best insurance possible. Here’s what Revelation really is: a love letter to a group of people who are suffering, a reminder that they haven’t been abandoned by the God who loves them. Our reading from Revelation 21 presents a vision of heaven, but notice the first word from that reading: “Then.” Heaven is not a PLACE where people (the right people) go to dwell with God: heaven will be a TIME when God dwells fully with creation, with all of us and all of what has ever been. It’s not enough for salvation to be magnificent, in the eyes of the writer of Revelation. Notice what God is doing: God is wiping away tears from those who weep. Salvation is tender as well as incredible. Salvation means living in the love of a generous, passionate God willing to pour out everything for the sake of God’s children.

Do you want to know what love is? It is kindness, generosity, patience, forgiveness, mercy, compassion, joy, laughter, and even anger, sometimes and in the right spirit. It is all of this and more. 1 John 4 has another answer, more complete: “Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God; everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, for God is love…if we love one another, God lives in us.” Love is all of us gathered here, and those we wish could be here with us. Do you want to know what love is? God is love, and we, we are God’s love to one another. May you live in love, now and always. Amen.

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[1] Thoughts on Various Subjects; from Miscellanies -- 1711

[2] O’Day, Gail. The New Interpreter’s Bible: John. p. 734

[3] Lose, David. http://www.workingpreacher.org/dear_wp.aspx?article_id=334