Category Archives: Jesus

A Moveable Feast (Second Easter Service)

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Mark 16:1-8
            Do you know why the date of Easter changes? It has to do with the cycle of the moon and the church calendar. Easter is the first Sunday after the first full moon after the vernal equinox. For the most part that means Easter falls somewhere between March 22 and April 25. Of course, and this is one of the best parts, the churches that use this date for Easter have what’s known as an “ecclesiastical calendar”, meaning the church occasionally has slightly different lunar dates than the astronomical calendar, kept by, well, astronomers. But for the most part, the formula has held true since 325 A.D. (for churches using the Gregorian calendar).
            Easter has earned a special name, since it does not have a fixed date. It is referred to as a moveable feast. Moveable feast. And all the dates that are coordinated with Easter’s date are also moveable feasts: Transfiguration, Ash Wednesday, Holy Week, Ascension, Pentecost, and Holy Trinity Sunday. All moveable feasts because their celebration is always a given number of days from Easter. (For example, Ash Wednesday is always the Wednesday before the sixth Sunday ahead of Easter.)
            Why am I talking so much about calendars? It’s actually not the calendar part I care about. It’s the name: moveable feast. It sounds like a picnic on the go, something that comes with us, that we can carry, that carries us. A moveable feast sounds like a banquet, a glorious table spread with all kinds of amazing foods. But when you’ve been really hungry or exhausted, a moveable feast is a shared crust of bread and the slug of liquid that makes you feel like you can keep going. Easter is both of these kinds of feasts.
            Mary Magdalene, Mary- the mother of James, and Salome were not in a feasting mood as they headed toward the tomb for that first sunrise service, a service of laying on of hands and prayer. They probably ate very little the day before, since it was the Sabbath and because they were probably still stunned from the crucifixion. At some point during that day, each of them quietly set aside ointments, cloths, spices in a little basket. Not a feast, just little odds and ends to tend Jesus’ body, to mend it, to commend it to God through washing and prayer. Tears pouring down their faces, they crept out of their houses at first light, before their families were awakened. Instructions were given to oldest daughters and daughters-in-law about the morning meal. And then the quiet slap of sandals on hardened dirt streets.
            The mother of James probably thought she was the only one, until Salome hurried to catch up to her. They both saw the figure of Mary Magdalene ahead of them and scurried to be by the side of that beloved apostle on the way. Still stunned by how abruptly it had all ended, the ringing of the hammer on the nails in their minds… the feel of Jesus’ body gone cold as they laid it in the tomb… the confusion as to where the disciples had gone… was it true about Judas… how will they move the stone. It was all too much. These women were not ready for a feast of any kind.
            But, ready or not, they arrived to hear of resurrection. They come with one task in mind, if they can accomplish it. That task proves worthless, all their planning, their grieved collection of materials. The task they came to do is moot and they are given another task, but it’s too much to absorb. We want to imagine them leaping in excitement and leaving the symbols of sorrow in their wake, a trail of spices, cloths, and broken perfume bottles leading to the empty tomb.
            They are stunned and afraid. What if this is a trick? What if Jesus’ body has been stolen? Do they go tell the apostles, who will doubtless come to the same conclusion and, possibly, accuse the women of knowing what happened? What do they do? Only minutes before they had a momentous task, honoring the body of Jesus. Now they have a different, monumental task… becoming the body of Christ. Carrying words as a balm, hope as the fragrance, faith as a spice. They nibble at the edges of this feast, easing the hunger of their grief.
            Why does the angel tell them to go his disciples and Peter? Is it because Peter is special, is elevated, or because Peter denied Jesus and it’s important to express plainly that he is still in the fold. He is still a sheep of Jesus’ own flock, a lamb of God’s own fold, a sinner who has now been redeemed. The messenger is clarifying for the women that there are no side tables at God’s feast, no people who wait for scraps in the kitchen, no one who will be turned away from the banquet of resurrection. Even Peter has a place at the Easter feast, when it reaches him through the witness of the women.
            That’s the thing about a moveable feast. It comes whether you’re ready or not. Whether you are in your own extended Lenten season, wrestling with crucifixion, lying in the tomb- unable to rise, the moveable feast comes. A moveable feast offers us hope until we can taste joy. A moveable feast offers expectation until we can drink from faith. A moveable feast fills us with courage until we are stuffed from encounter.
             
            Easter is the moveable feast that brings us the food for our souls when we need it and when we can receive it. Sometimes in April. Sometimes in September. Sometimes in December and January. The news of resurrection comes to us in our deep hunger and edges us into fullness, into renewal, into strength.
            Who would believe the story of three women who say they saw a heavenly messenger at the empty tomb of an itinerant preacher from the backwater of Nazareth? Who will listen to that story? Who will take their word?
            People who are hungry for forgiveness. People who thirst to believe God is still acting in the world. People who believe in the possibility of redemption. People who crave justice and peace. People smell the scent of equality and long to have their fill. People who have tasted of true freedom and want to revel in it again. That’s who will listen to their story. That’s who will believe them. People who are hungry for the feast of Easter. Hungry for it on the first Sunday after the first full moon after the vernal equinox. Hungry for it on the day after. And after that. And after that.
            Do you dare to believe that this is a moveable feast for you? That is for the person beside you and beside them? That this feast has moved from an empty tomb to Galilee to Judea to all of Palestine to the entire world? Do we dare to speak up and say this is a feast to which everyone is invited?
            Our hymns and our words mainly speak of Easter joy, but that first Easter (and maybe every one since) wasn’t about joy. It was about hope. The hope in the truth of the resurrection. The hope in the triumph of the God of life over the power of death. The hope of grace and forgiveness and the family of God. You may not always feel like feasting on first Sunday after the first full moon after the vernal equinox, but we can believe the feast is there.
The moveable feast of resurrection, of Easter is bound human limitations, then or now.
When is resurrection?
When is Easter?
Thanks be to God that the moveable feast of Easter is always right when the world needs it to be.
Amen. 

Ready or Not, Resurrection (Early Easter Service)

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Mark 16:1-8
            What happens when you’re not in the mood for Easter? What if the smells are too strong, the colors too bright, the alleluias too loud? We are all a little used to people talking about not feeling the Christmas spirit, but who doesn’t want new life… who doesn’t thrill at the sound of the trumpet… who isn’t ready for resurrection?
            Sometimes our own Lent goes on beyond forty days. Sometimes, in our own lives, our own passion story, our own feeling of crucifixion… exposure and abandonment… is not over in a week or three days. Sometimes resurrection comes, but we are not ready to get up. We are not ready to tell the story.
            The women heading toward the tomb for that first sunrise service, a service of laying on of hands and prayer… those women were not prepared for resurrection. They may have spent the whole day before, the Sabbath day, longing to be at the tomb. Maybe it was too far too walk for the Sabbath or perhaps the work was not permitted. So each of them quietly set aside ointments, cloths, spices in a little basket. Tears pouring down their faces, they crept out of their houses at first light, before their families were awakened. Instructions were given to oldest daughters and daughters-in-law about the morning meal. And then the quiet slap of sandals on hardened dirt streets.
            The mother of James probably thought she was the only one, until Salome hurried to catch up to her. They both saw the figure of Mary Magdalene ahead of them and scurried to be by the side of that beloved apostle on the way. Still stunned by how abruptly it had all ended, the ringing of the hammer on the nails in their minds… the feel of Jesus’ body gone cold as they laid it in the tomb… the confusion as to where the disciples had gone… was it true about Judas… how will they move the stone. It was all too much. These women were not ready for resurrection.
            But, ready or not, they arrived to hear of resurrection. They come with one task in mind, if they can accomplish it. That task proves worthless, all their planning, their grieved collection of materials. The task they came to do is moot and they are given another task, but it’s too much to absorb. We want to imagine them leaping in excitement and leaving the symbols of sorrow in their wake, a trail of spices, cloths, and broken perfume bottles leading to the empty tomb.
            They are stunned and afraid. What if this is a trick? What if Jesus’ body has been stolen? Do they go tell the apostles, who will doubtless come to the same conclusion and, possibly, accuse the women of knowing what happened? What do they do? Only minutes before they had a momentous task, honoring the body of Jesus. Now they have a different, monumental task… becoming the body of Christ. Carrying words as a balm, hope as the fragrance, faith as a spice.
            Did they go to the disciples right away? Did they make a plan to meet later in the week and talk about what happened? Did they return to their respective houses, already moving with morning activity, and slip back into their routines, knowing things were different, but unsure how to put that difference into words?
            Knowing things are different, but unsure how to put that difference into words is the Easter story for most of us. Sometimes we receive the news of resurrection, but we’re trying to understand how it applies to us. How it makes us free. How it brings us restoration, hope, and faith.
            Stories of grief have to be repeated until understanding comes, until relief arrives, until a light shines in the darkness. The women probably met again… maybe that afternoon, maybe a few days later. They had to get ready for resurrection. Because it happened when they were unprepared. It happens in the same way to us.
            Whatever our state of belief, of grief, of celebration, Christ’s resurrection comes to us, comes to all creation, whether we are ready or not. And here’s the good news about resurrection… we cannot stop it, we cannot slow its work, we will not stem its grace or welcome. Ready or not, we have been swept into the stream of Easter hope. The Spirit keeps us floating until we are ready to swim.
           
Easter is here, but resurrection is still coming, still washing over us, still be absorbed in us so that, like the women at the tomb, we too may take on the task of telling the story and becoming the body of Christ.
Amen.

Sunday Sermon: Not Dead Yet

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Epiphany 5, Narrative Lectionary B
5 February 2012
Mark 6:1-29
            I am an adventurous eater. This past Monday, in Progreso, Mexico, I walked through the town and I was in search of one of my favorite foods: ceviche. I adore the combination of raw fish, with cilantro, onions, and tomatoes, marinated in lime juice. It gives me the shivers to think about it. So there I was, with a friend, in the center of the town market, where only locals were shopping and eating. I find a stand that sells ceviche and I buy an enormous plate, with homemade taco chips and a Mexican coke. My friend is a vegetarian and wouldn’t touch my plate of citrus shrimp with a ten-foot-pole. She watches as I scoop up the first bite and put it in my mouth and roll my eyes in delight.
            As I try not to make a spectacle of myself, I tell her that I will try almost any food at least once. There are some foods the origins of which I would prefer not to know until I eat them, but I will try them. Ceviche, though, is my favorite. I know I’m rolling a large set of dice to eat raw fish in a Mexican market, but to me, the risk is worth it. (I know what bad fish tastes like and not to keep going.) I told my friend that each time I don’t get sick it makes me bolder. In truth, if I got sick, I wouldn’t stop eating ceviche, I just wouldn’t eat at the place that made me sick anymore. Each time could be the bad fish time that knocks me flat, but I’m not dead yet. (What a life motto!)
            What does this have to do with today’s reading? Think of the Jesus of Mark’s gospel- a very human Jesus who has been setting the countryside on fire with the help of the Holy Spirit. Now he comes to his hometown. On the outskirts of Nazareth, he’s probably playing the scenario in his head in which he is warmly greeted, his teachings praised and admired, his mother honored, and people he’s known for years relieved of suffering. On the other hand, his hometown is likely expecting a hero from whom they can gain enough notoriety to become a place on the map.
NAZARETH: Birthplace of the Messiah! See his carpentry! Drink from his cup! See his shul! Threads from his cloak for sale! Collect the whole set of Jesus earthenware!
            People are not impressed by his message of forgiveness of sins and his miracles of healing. They insult him by calling him referring only to his mother (“Son of Mary”) and not his father. His healings are ineffective, except for a few people whom I imagine coming to him in the middle of the night and asking for relief.
            I think Jesus is having an epiphany. This is not going to go smoothly. In his own hometown, he gets some bad fish. Does this undo his message or his mission? It doesn’t but it makes it a little harder to push forward. It becomes a little clearer that not everyone wants to hear the proclamation of the kingdom, the good news of God’s nearness, the possibility of renewal in repentance and forgiveness. Jesus goes on, despite the incident. He’s not dead yet.
            He sends out the disciples in mission as well. Something for us to remember is that the disciples are going out with good news, with a gospel message that has nothing to do with resurrection. The resurrection hasn’t happened yet, so the good news they offer is precisely about the action God is doing in the world AT THAT TIME and how people can be a part of it, through repentance, forgiveness, and healing. Their message isn’t about the afterlife, rewards, or mystery, but concrete change in present-day life.
            However, Jesus warns them, not everyone will want to hear this message. Occasionally the disciples will run into some bad fish. They are to shake off their shoes and go on. If they are not dead yet, then they are not done proclaiming.
            Then we come to a flashback. The last time we saw John the Baptizer was at the end of Chapter 1 of Mark. He was arrested. Now we learn that he was arrested because he spoke out against the marriage of Herod Antipas and Herodias. Herodias had been married to Herod’s brother, Philip, but she decided Herod was more upwardly mobile. So she divorced Philip (strike 1), married his brother (strike 2), and plotted against John the Baptizer who dared to call her on her sin (strike 3).
            The dance of her daughter might not be the sexy dance of the seven veils that we always see portrayed, but an enthusiastic demonstration of talent or nationalism by a young daughter making her father proud. Herod likely thought she would ask for a pony, but instead she consults with her mother and receives the head of John on a platter. Not exactly what Herod (or likely the daughter) had in mind.
            John got some bad fish. And it killed him. Herod could have redeemed John, but he didn’t. He could redeem his actions later when Jesus is brought before him, but he won’t have the nerve to do so then either. Herodias is a bad fish and her rot has infected her family.
            So what does this story have to do with us, besides really stretching out my ceviche metaphor?
            I hardly ever give specifics on how you should act. We are all different people, in whom the Spirit moves in different ways. The ministry to which you are called may not be the word of the Lord for me. However, I’m going to share with you how this moves me and I think it will affect you as well.
            If I
1)   am a bold eater,
2)   believe in the hope of the resurrection,
3)   trust in the presence of God in the world from day to day
then why am I not living more boldly?
Why am I timid in speaking the truth?
Why don’t I live as boldly as I would eat?
If my standard for eating is: “I’m not dead yet”, why is this not even more my standard for faithful living?
I am willing to risk my life for raw fish. Shouldn’t I be willing to do the same thing for Jesus, through whom I believe that death is not the end, but a new beginning?
Not everyone is going to hear what I am saying. Some people who hear it will not like it. However, I am not called to quietude, but full proclamation, sinning boldly, and loving Christ more boldly still.
            Now is the time! Now is the day of our salvation. Today we are sent out to proclaim the truth of God’s mercy, forgiveness, and supply to the entire world and to do it in BOLD, DRAMATIC, LOUD, LOVING ways. We are called to serve our neighbors in all kinds of ways. We hesitate and the moments are lost, but this doesn’t have to be.
            The Spirit is with us. Let us live boldly. We are not dead yet. 

Unity in Silos

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I’ve been slowly introducing the idea of the Narrative Lectionary (NL) to my congregation. The NL is a fairly quickly paced romp through the arc of Scripture from Abraham and Sarah to Acts (September to late May). Each Sunday, the congregation focuses on one scripture passage that reveals the work God has done. Through the lens of that story, in its Scriptural setting, we move to more fully comprehend the work God is doing now.

In order to use the NL, we will have to drop out of formal use of the Revised Common Lectionary (RCL) for about nine months. It is my hope that during this time our congregation will labor together and come to a better understanding of the narrative thread of what we believe. How are the Hebrew Scriptures connected to our understanding of Jesus? How do we see ourselves as children of Abraham? What are the lessons of the Exile?

These are important themes and stories that don’t quite make into the heart of the RCL. Arguably, they could be covered through Faith Formation activities, like Christian Education, Confirmation, Bible study… etc. However, I have to be realistic about the habits of my congregation. The majority of people are here on Sunday morning. Some can’t, some don’t and some won’t come to other things during the week. So I have to take seriously the teaching portion of my call and bring the mountain to Mohammed, or something like that.

In this month’s newsletter, I published the proposed schedule of the NL and asked for comments or questions. I received my first today from a clergy colleague in the Lutheran Church- Missouri Synod. I consider this pastor a friend and an inspiration and I know he was somewhat teasing in his email, yet some portions of it really hit home. We discussed it on the phone, but I’d like to stir the pot a little with his comments.

He noted that by using the Narrative Lectionary, one could see the ELCA as moving either farther away from the Church catholic and, possibly, from its Lutheran roots.

Holy revelation, Batman!

Have we come so far that a desire to cover more Bible makes me less orthodox and, yea verily, less Lutheran? Say it isn’t so.

First, the use of the Narrative Lectionary is a choice and is neither endorsed or encouraged by the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America. (It isn’t discouraged either.) One might consider the Book of Faith initiative to be an encouragement into deeper Biblical work, but that’s a different post/rant/exploration. Bringing broader and deeper biblical understanding to people in pews (and streets) is, last time I checked, at the heart of Lutheran self-understanding. It’s right up there with Christ and him crucified. (It is, in part, how we know about Christ and him crucified.)

My pastor friend pointed out that the RCL or even a standard three-year rotation gives pastors of a variety of stripes some common ground to discuss our sermon preparation, to share ideas and from which to wade into deeper theological matters.

True enough, the RCL puts me on same pulpit plane, so to speak, with the majority of United Methodists, American Baptists, Episcopalians, LC-MS, WELS, Roman Catholics and many others on any given Sunday. Since our table fellowship and ordination practices are often dividers, the Common Lectionary can be a tie that binds our hearts in Christian love.

Ah, but there in lies my problem. I fail to see how a deeper understanding of Scripture is going to lead the congregation of Lutheran Church of Hope away from the Church catholic. I would think (!) it could only help. (Said the young ELCA pastor with optimism.)

Besides, I don’t think it is my proposed nine months in the NL that is causing an ideological divide between some of my LC-MS brethren (and sistren), WELS, Romans Catholics and some Orthodox.

If we decide to explore the Narrative Lectionary, we will still:

Affirm our faith using the Apostle’s Creed (except when we use the Nicene)
Baptize in the name of Trinity (Father, Son and Holy Spirit) 
Believe in Scripture as the inspired, written Word of God
Believe in the saints, alive and gone before as our cloud of witnesses
Trust in the Real Presence of Christ in Holy Communion
Understand God as having acted on behalf of creation, continuing to do so and planning to do so until the end of time

If we can’t be united to the Church catholic through our faith in God’s work of salvation in Jesus the Christ and through the things above, it doesn’t matter how we study the Bible.

If we can’t define ourselves, in the positive, by some unity in these things, then we are about as useful as the fig tree (Mark 11:12-14). Where is our fruit?

My hope in using the Narrative Lectionary (which has its own flaws) is to begin to deepen and build on the biblical foundation of the majority of my congregants. I hope that they will be energized by new hearing, new discussion and new understanding. In general, I think this is what all pastors work toward and pray for- across the Church catholic.