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Wild and Holy is Our God (Sermon)

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Advent 2
Ezekiel 37:1-14
            God is wild and holy, untamed by our efforts to tame, contain, or fully understand. The book of Ezekiel reveals some of the nature of a wild and holy God. The prophet Ezekiel speaks to the people of Israel as they are in exile in Babylon. He is among the first deportation from Israel and is still there as two generations of children have been born on Babylonian soil.
            Ezekiel rails against Israel’s idolatry (worshipping of other gods) and failure to trust in the covenant God has made with them. He receives and presents visions of God’s holiness that pursues Israel in a chariot, seeking to overtake them, even as God’s people flee to other paths.
            Ezekiel notes the unfaithfulness of the people again and again. In almost the same breath, he pours forth promises from the Lord that the covenant will still be upheld from the Lord’s end. That God will not fail to keep God’s word is the refrain of the fiercesome song that is the book of this prophet.
            In chapter 33, Ezekiel gets word from a refugee from Jerusalem. The temple has fallen. The place where God was believed to reside was now a pile of rubble. What does that mean for where God is now? How can God act without a base of operations? What will become of those who called themselves people of God?
            Now you will see, Ezekiel says. Now you will understand God’s faithfulness, God’s holiness, God’s way of being in the world and beyond. And so we come to the vision described in chapter 37. Up to this point, Ezekiel has been describing the destruction and pain of the Israelites in Babylon and scattered throughout Egypt and along the trade routes of Northern Africa and toward India.
            The scene we see at the beginning of 37 is a battlefield. In ancient (and not so ancient) tradition, the victors did not bury the bodies of the defeated. Those who lost in battle and who lost their lives were left where they fell. Presumably the victors carried any living off into slavery or also slew them on the spot. The dead lay out, under the hot sun, as carrion for all predators, including the birds of prey. The bones would have been picked clean and then sun-bleached. The battlefield, with its dry, gruesome memorial, would have been a testament to the strength of the victors.
            So we are talking about a scene of death. Nothing living. Nothing even rotting. Just death. Yet nothing is too dead for God. Nothing is beyond God’s ability to restore life and bring wholeness. Nothing is past where God can heal and bring peace.
            This is the vision and message that God brings to Ezekiel to tell the people who are prepared to abandon all hope. God doesn’t need a base camp. God is wild and free and able to bring life out of death.
            For we who are Easter people, that God brings life out of death is a refrain we are almost too used to hearing. Yet, that was not the case in this time period. The people of Israel, at this time, did not have a fully developed embrace of resurrection. It was not part of their religious faith or understanding. Thus, this vision was ASTOUNDING. God would bring dead things back to life… God would restore life to Israel… a life of promise and possibility… enfleshed, muscled, and filled with breath, with the Spirit.
            Why does God do this? We would be quick to say because of grace. Others would say it is for the sake of God’s reputation. I don’t think it is grace or because God is worried about what people think.  Instead, this vision is a revelation, like so many from Scripture, about the fundamental nature of God. God is a God of revelation, resurrection, and reformation. Not just in Babylon, not just in 15thcentury Germany, not just in the person of Jesus (though especially in the person of Jesus), but in all times and all places.
            God brings life out of death… creation out of a void… light out of darkness in all times and all places. This is who and what God is about. That is the essence of the wild and holy nature of God. What we might declare dry, life pours out of – by the hand of God. What we would declare dead lives- by the hand of God. What we would declare unchangeable is recreated- by the hand of God.
            There is nothing that is too dead for the God who has called us, named us, and claimed us. Not society, not creation, not the church, not anything in our lives. Thus, we are called to look- look for real signs of life, look for the shoots of promise growing, look for springs of hope pouring forth. We too, like the Israelites, must avoid the idolatry of resignation, of impatience, of lack of eager anticipation. What in your life, in your neighborhood, in the world needs resurrection? What is the vision God is giving you of flesh on that skeleton, of breath in that body, of movement in what was previously still?
            Many centuries ago, Advent lasted until Epiphany. It was much more clearly a season marked by prayer and anticipation of God’s promises in Christ. Slowly, as Christmas became a bigger celebration, Advent became smaller. It was still a marker to think about Christ coming again, but as that became intertwined with anticipating the celebration of Jesus’ birth… Advent became somewhat secondary.
            However, Advent is the season to speak to dry bones. Advent is the season that speaks to God’s wild holiness. Advent is the season that says we are engaged in a mystery- a mystery which we cannot fully understand or resolve, but in which we are called to full participation.
            If you are here, if you can hear my voice, if you are reading this… you, like Ezekiel, are called to speak to dry bones- whatever they might be in your life. Declare that the very nature of God is to restore life to what seems dead. Speak firmly that nothing, nothing is too dead for God. The very hope we have in the Christ we await is the clearest revelation of that truth: nothing is too dead for resurrection. God is wild and holy, untamed by our efforts to tame, contain, or fully understand.
Thanks be to God.
Amen. 

God’s Best to Our Worst

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1 Samuel 16:1-13, Psalm 51:10-14
            Two years ago, a man called the church and asked to come speak with me. When we met, he told me that his son had died from suicide over twenty years before. At his son’s funeral, the pastor lamented that it was too bad that the man’s son was in hell, using the opportunity (a funeral!) to warn others against suicide. This warning, of course, ignores the fact that most people who are considering suicide feel as though they are in hell already.
            So, two years, this man, this grieving father, came to talk to me about heaven. In particular, he had a little booklet about heaven that he had carried around for about ten years. He’d read the slick pages over and over until they were soft and floppy. He wanted to question me about the specifics of heaven. In particular, he was very concerned about the idea that we will be able to recognize other people in heaven.
            He felt that if he was able to see who WAS there; he would also know who WASN’T there. His little booklet told him to anticipate a great reunion with many loved ones. This man believed it would never be heaven for him if he had to spend eternity knowing that his son wasn’t there. He asked me how heaven could be a perfect place if, while he was there, he would know that his son was suffering elsewhere.
            This man, like many others, grew up and had been told again and again about suicide as an unforgiveable sin. Some people have been taught that it’s unforgiveable because you can’t repent. Some people have been told that taking one’s own life is usurping God’s power and privilege. We even, still, talk about suicide like it’s a crime: we say “commit” suicide. I try to use the phrase “die from suicide”.
            What does this have to do with David, who died of old age- probably in his seventies? As we’ve been studying David on Sunday mornings and talking about the cross on Wednesday nights, one of the issues arises repeatedly is the idea of God’s justice. We want to think of God being “fair”- even though fairness is not a Biblical principle in any stretch of the imagination.
            We like the story of God calling the little brother, the youngest, the sheep-keeper . We like knowing that he was musical and had a heart for God. We like the idea of David killing Goliath and speaking forcefully for the living God of Israel. We are drawn to the deep relationship and promises between David and Jonathon.
            But then we think of David using his kingly advantage to seduce Bathsheba and to have her husband, Uriah, killed. We think of him over-indulging his sons and placing them among his advisors when they were likely too young. He neglected to lead his military generals. He was a mercenary for a while with the Philistines. He conducted an illegal census of the people of Israel. He killed the remainder of Saul’s family, except Mephibosheth- Jonathon’s son who was crippled in some capacity.
            We wrestle with the idea that David did these terrible things and yet remained God’s beloved. There are events in David’s life that were perceived to be God’s punishment for his actions, yet God did not withdraw God’s love from David. God did not turn his back on David. God did not undo God’s promise of bringing redemption to Israel and to the world through David’s descendants.
            When I met with that man two years ago, we talked about the nature of God. I asked the man if he had ever thought that his son might be with God now, might be at peace. He looked at me like I was crazy. In twenty-plus years, no one had ever asked him this outright. I asked him if he thought soldiers went to heaven. He said yes- because they kill in the line of duty and they can repent. I asked about executioners and people who kill someone else in an accidental death. Yes, because they can repent- he replied- they can go to heaven.
            We talked about his son, about his struggles and pain, about why he might have come to the decision he did. I asked the man if he thought God was with his son in those struggles. Yes, he thought God was there, but then his son did what he did. In the long conversation we had, we went around and around. This man had spent these many years believing his son was in hell. He just wanted to understand how he, the father, could expect to find heaven a perfect place, when he would obviously know that his son was not there.
            We do not live in a world of fairness. Even with laws and governments, there is very little justice because of our entwined and enmeshed systems that contribute to and perpetuate the struggles of many people. Given what we see and experience all the time, it is very important to remember that God does not function in the same way that we do.
            In a fair system, Jesus would not be from David’s line. He’d be from a lineage of fine, upstanding citizens. All the women would be pure and perfect. All the men would be robust and faithful. Jesus would be from Lake Woebegon- where are the women are strong, the men are good-looking, and the children are above average. And what consolation would that be to us? God comes and lives among us, but lives as the crème de la crème? Instead, Jesus spends his toddler years as a refugee, his youth in a backwater as the son of a carpenter, his early adulthood working with his dad and friends in community life, his ministry years with fishermen, tax collectors, and women, his moments of death as a criminal and one wronged by both religious and civil leaders. This is God’s experience as one of us.
            And we shouldn’t be surprised by it, since we’ve known from the moment that God didn’t kill Adam and Eve, gave Cain a second chance, preserved Noah, called Moses (the murderer), and used David to bring Israel into a place where they could truly be a light to the world, if they so chose. God doesn’t do fair. God does grace. God does power. God does God’s justice.
            Our justice would result in Mary Magdalene showing up on Easter morning and weeping over Jesus’ lifeless body. God’s justice, God’s ways, have her met in the garden by her rabbouni, her teacher and Lord- Jesus the Christ. Our ways would have us muddle along, hoping to get things right. Instead, God’s ways have Jesus meet us too… in all kinds of times, places, and people.
            Our ways would have squashed David like a bug after the Uriah and Bathsheba incident. Our ways would declare that some sins are unforgiveable- even those committed in the depths of despair. Instead, God’s ways continued to use David, defining him not by the worst thing David ever did, but by the best thing God ever did. If God does that for David, isn’t that surely what God does for each of us? Not seeing us by the worst thing we ever do or that ever happens to us, but by the best thing that God ever did.
            That’s what I told that man two years ago and what I’ve prayed every day since for him to receive and understand. It’s what I want you to hear on this Sunday as well. The God of resurrection, the Christ of baptism and holy community, the Holy Spirit of constant renewal does not see or define us by our worst, but through God’s best.
Amen. 

God’s Servants Are Never Retired

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1 Samuel 3:1-21
            Since Samuel is a child when God calls him and his work as a prophet begins immediately, this story usually focuses on that fact alone. We use that information to underline the fact that God calls and works through all kinds of people- regardless of age, experience, or even knowledge of the Lord (see: “Samuel did not yet know the Lord”). Many of us have heard this part of the story lifted up so many times; we begin to miss the other details in the story.
            Pretend you never heard this story before. This is entirely fresh to you- as an adult. You have not been hearing about Samuel for 20, 30, 40, 70 years. Instead, you’re hearing this for the first time.
What might stand out to you?
–       Eli knows who is talking to Samuel.
–       Eli is punished for his sons’ misdeeds (or for ignoring them).
–       Eli’s call is undone so that Samuel can be called.
–       Samuel’s first experience as a prophet is to retire his predecessor.
How is God’s character portrayed in this story? Is this a God you want to serve? A God who calls and speaks through children, that sounds hopeful and promising. A God who withdraws favor without warning… less hopeful. If this were the first Bible story you ever heard as an adult, what would you think about God?
            It’s important to remember that 1 and 2 Samuel and 1 and 2 Kings are written down for the preservation of the life and lineage of David. Everyone else is a footnote in that story. The recorders are not interested in what happened to Samuel, Saul, Eli, or anyone else beyond their role in the story of David.            
Eli is a temple priest in the time of the Judges. The book of Judges closes with the acknowledgment that there was no king in Israel, so everyone did what was right in their own eyes. Part of this statement is technically untrue. There was always a king in Israel. Who was the king? God. With God as a king, the leaders of the people were ones who pointed to God and to God’s expectations. This would have been Eli’s call and work. At some point, he wasn’t able to do that work. He apparently fell short in training his sons correctly or in sufficiently correcting them when they “did what was right in their own eyes”.  
            This passage opens with the note that the “word of the Lord was rare in those days”. Does that mean that the Lord wasn’t speaking or that people weren’t listening? I know for a fact that I can tell my son to four or five times to put on his shoes before it finally happens. Is the word of his mother rare, unheard, or unheeded (or some combination thereof)? So Eli has given his life to the service of God. Maybe that service interfered with his ability to be a good parent. Nevertheless, Eli is released from service, which has the distinct look of falling out of favor with God.
            We’ve already discussed how God comes across in this story (uncaring, cold, capricious). Is that your experience of God? Is that the scope of God’s character as revealed elsewhere in Scripture? If you think about the Bible as a whole, how does God come across?
            Part of reading this story is pulling away from its narrow understanding of vocation. When we do that in the story, we also have to do it in our daily lives. We have a tendency to judge our own worth and the value of those around us based on the work they do for pay or on the “success” of their relationships. Paid work has more value than unpaid work. Parenthood has more value than being an uncle or an aunt. Being a widow or widower has a higher perceived rating than being divorced. The CEO has more value than the kindergarten teacher who has more value than the garbage collector.
            Our culture has a ranking system based on perceived contributions to society and status therein. We study people for how they fit into the categories we’ve been taught. Occasionally, we’re able to move things around, when a child receives a clear call from God- for example, but otherwise, we keep things the same. Furthermore, as society works to uphold that framework, God’s favor is subtly (or not) attached to the status of higher value. Surely a better position, family success, material wealth… etc. are all signs of God’s favor. And which comes first- God’s favor, then success? Or success, and then God’s favor?
            When the writers of 1 Samuel begin to write for the main purpose of recording the life of David, it seemed obvious to them that Eli had lost God’s favor. How could God call Samuel, if God doesn’t first “uncall” Eli? And once Eli is no longer the chief priest, who cares what happens to him?
            Except that his priesthood is not the only way God could use him. It may well not be the only way God did use him. Eli is still a father, perhaps still a husband, a father-in-law, maybe a grandfather, a neighbor, a Jew, a child of God. While he might no longer have paid work, he is not outside of God’s plans or God’s ability to use him.
            So we too have multiple vocations… paid worker, volunteer, spouse or partner, sibling, child, parent, friend, neighbor, citizen, library card holder, sandwich maker,… etc. The end of any one of these roles does not indicate a withdrawal of God’s favor. It does not signify the end of that relationship. It does not put you or me or Eli or anyone else beyond the ability of God to use or to bring about God’s kingdom through us.
            When Peter and Andrew stopped fishing, they started following Jesus. They became disciples. However, they were still husbands, children, friends, and Jews. They still had other defining characteristics. Each of those vocations was now shaped by following Jesus. Their other relationships changed, didn’t end, but were changed by their new understanding of what it meant to be a child of God.
            That same meaning is part of our lives. All that we do is shaped by what it means to be a child of God- as we have seen God revealed in Jesus. When we hear the Scriptures, we are called to always listen with new ears. Each of us is also a Bible interpreter- not for ourselves or to make things easier, but for the sake of the people around us and for God’s sake.
            Despite how the story is recorded, God wasn’t done with Eli. Neither is God done with any of us when one chapter ends and another begins. God’s favor is not revealed through success or failure, but through grace and the ever-present promise of renewal and abundant life. That’s good news that we are to take to heart. And, more specifically, that’s the good news we are to take into the world.
Amen. 
Audio here: 
morning-8

Whose Blueprint

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I strongly recommend the sound file of this sermon (at the bottom) to you , as it has the transitions missing in the text. 

Easter 7 (Narrative Lectionary, Year C)
12 May 2013
Galatians 3:1-9, 23-29
What bewitches us?
            We are (all) easily distracted (or seduced) by things that are not important. How many times have you lost an hour or three to television or to the Internet and ended up feeling guilty about that time? Very few of us have had that same experience in prayer or devotional time. Yet, false piety can be equally bewitching. We are not called to live lives of sequestered prayer and study, but prayer and devotion in word and deed. Our prayers are in how we live, how we use our time and talents, how we reveal our trust in God’s grace.
            The Galatians were “bewitched” by false teachers who continued to emphasize the necessity of fulfilling all of the laws of Judaism in order to be assured of God’s blessing through Christ. Paul rejects this notion. The law was and is important for those who were born into it, he says. However, God is bringing others into the good news of freedom in Jesus Christ. Their right-ness with God comes through Jesus’ faithfulness alone- not through anything that they are able to do to merit that grace or favor.
What do commercials/ads tell us is important?
            We are all subjected to advertizing- both subtle and overt- that says we are not yet what we could be. We can be stronger, faster, more beautiful, smarter, more useful, more clever, a better parent/neighbor/child/spouse… with just one more product, one more item, one more thing. That final thing will give us what we’ve been missing to have a perfect life. Until we get it and we find that we are still lacking. In addition to exacerbating and exploiting our fears, commercials reveal a poor system of creation- where the only way a person can succeed is if someone else fails. In the commercialized and commodified system, people become the means to our achievements- not through support and mutual aid, but because we can climb over them in our race to the top. 
How can we live into God’s grace in our lives?
            Faithful living seems daunting when we understand it to be a system of perfect and perfected belief. The Spirit tries to draw us away from that idea- into an understanding that the life of faith is one of trust in God’s promises and actions. Neither our belief system nor our actions save us or even get God “right”, but we trust in God’s work of justifying us through Christ. Furthermore, our trust is not in the on-going act of justification (being made right), but in the completed action of justification. It’s not something God is doing that God could decide to stop. Bringing the world into right relationship through Jesus Christ is something that God has already done. It is finished. (Heard that phrase before?)
            Thus, we are being helped by the Spirit to understand that justification, to accept that right-ness, to live into the trust that God’s on-going work of creation and healing serves to help understand what God has already done. Not to earn it. Not to complete it. But to come to see ourselves and everyone around us through the light of Jesus.
Blueprint
            This is a blueprint of a proposed remodel/addition to this church dated May 1969. There is a note on it from 1977 saying that this proposal was never used. Yet we’ve saved it. We have saved proposed changes to a building that no long exists as it did forty-four (44) years ago.
            Why do we still have it? Some of you would say it is because we never throw anything away. I suspect that for years, people said, “We might use it. It might be useful. Don’t throw it away just yet.”
            Even as the building changed and changed again, we still held on to an old idea, an old picture, a possibility- even though it wouldn’t work.
            This is what so many of us do when it comes to grace. We keep our old blueprint. We say: Yes, we are clothed in Christ. Yes, we are new creations. Yes, we have been made right with God through God’s own actions. But we want to keep this blueprint… We want to hold on to our notions of how the world works… We are afraid… and we might need a fallback plan- in case God doesn’t come through.
            Don’t raise your hand. Has anyone thought that before? It sounds so terrible when I say it out loud, but it is what so many of us do. We trust that grace is true, but we want to hold on to our blueprint- our way of seeing the world, just in case.
Bewitched by our illusion of control
            We are bewitched by our illusions of control. When my grandmother died, the rabbi for the funeral home (who didn’t really know her), spoke very briefly at her funeral service. I am sure he meant to be comforting and inclusive when he talked about remembering her and her legacy and then said, “Whatever God there is or isn’t…” I thought, “What?!? Whatever God there is or isn’t…” It is one thing to be cautious about the actions one attributes to God, but it’s another thing entirely to straddle the fence at a time of proclamation.
            I called another pastor after the service and complained, “Who says that? I could do better than that.” The pastor laughed and said, “Sure you could, but more importantly, God does better than that.”
            We have been called, through the Spirit, into lives of proclamation- lives that say “God is”, lives that are lived without fear, lives that are carried forward because of what God has already done.
            When we hold onto our blueprints- our maps and attempts to say that we might need our own power later- we are living lives that say, “Whatever God there is or isn’t…” When we refuse to listen to the siren song of the commercial world or the whisper of the forces that oppose God, when we swallow our fears and live by trusting in God’s grace… we are living like Abraham and Sarah.
            When we trust that we are not defined by our work, our race, our abilities, our body types, our mental state, our family’s achievements, our church’s size, our ability to pray… when we trust that we are defined by Christ and Christ alone… then we have the courage to welcome all people, to care for our neighbors, to work for change in our community, to appreciate creation.
Trust is not about fully comprehending and explaining a formula or creed. It is about prayerful and devotional living- without fear- through confidence in what God has finished in Jesus Christ.
            The promise we have inherited is not that there may or may not be a God who may or may not be working on something for the future. The promise we have inherited is that God who knows all things, who made all things, who has saved all things has included us in that salvation through Jesus the Christ. It is on the authority of this promise that we throw out our plans and live into God’s blueprint- an outline that has remodeled us all into the image of Christ. 


The Boundaries of Grace

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5 Easter
Narrative Lectionary, Year C

Acts 15:1-17
            The disciples are determining the purpose of their congregation. Is it to make Gentiles (Greek, Roman, any non-Jewish believer) into Jews? Or is it to take people of all stripes who are prepared to act in the name of Jesus and to move forward and out in faith? The purpose might seem clear to us, but it was as fraught a discussion as we occasionally find in congregations and in denominations today. This is the first synod assembly (so to speak) recorded in the early church and they have real issues on their hands.
            They have to determine the boundaries of God’s grace and the marks of the recipients of that grace. They are trying to respect the traditions and history of those gathered, history that is part of how God’s work and presence in the world has been revealed.  The disciples are also trying to understand the exponential pace at which the Spirit is bringing people into faith.            
            In this critical time, they are trying to determine how to tell who is included and what is required of those who say they believe? Should they be brought into the community of faith via circumcision, the sign of one of God’s earlier covenants with Israel? Are there dietary restrictions or certain worship rites? How will the new believers show their dedication to the Way of Jesus?
            How do we know who has received God’s grace? If there are no visible physical markers, perhaps there are markers in one’s life. Surely a person who is especially blessed has received God’s grace. After all, we hear that phrase, “There, but for the grace of God, go I” applied to people for whom we have sympathy, who are struggling in some way. When the nuance of that phrase is unpacked, it reveals that if God’s grace has kept us from a certain circumstance, then any unfortunate suffering soul is clearly without God’s grace. There, but for the grace of God… implies that there are places and people that are without God’s grace. And we can tell because of how they are suffering.
            The family that can’t receive food stamps (SNAP) because they are a few dollars over the income limit… The woman or man who makes the choice to sell sex because it seems easier than other options… The person who gets hurt or killed on a trail you’ve hiked many times… The person who gets caught in a bad spot that you went through only minutes before… The person who took the flight that crashed, but you just missed… The person who dies from suicide, a desperation you’ve felt before… The person who dies from complications of a surgery that you sailed through…
            There, but for the grace of God… except were any of these people without God’s grace? Would we dare, would we presume to say that God did not care about these people? That God’s Spirit was withdrawn from them? That they were forsaken? Either the grace of God is open and expansive and all-encompassing… or God is capricious and malevolent and extends mercy to a select few (who can live into very exacting standards).
            We want to believe the former- in a gracious God. And yet we live in a world that acts on the latter premise- that God’s favor is spotty. If it was expansive, why would there be suffering in the world? And then the worst of both beliefs- that God’s grace is for all, but you have to reach a state by pulling yourself to it.
This is precisely the problem that Peter points out in Acts, “My brothers, you know that in the early days God made a choice among you, that I should be the one through whom the Gentiles would hear the message of the good news and become believers.  And God, who knows the human heart, testified to them by giving them the Holy Spirit, just as he did to us; and in cleansing their hearts by faith he has made no distinction between them and us. Now therefore why are you putting God to the test by placing on the neck of the disciples a yoke that neither our ancestors nor we have been able to bear? On the contrary, we believe that we will be saved through the grace of the Lord Jesus, just as they will.”
            We are specifically warned against testing God’s grace through judging our neighbors circumstances. Specifically warned against believing that a person’s struggling, suffering, pain, or despair is reflective of God’s opinion of them. There is only one way to show that we are not testing the grace of God. We trust in grace and so we act upon it. God’s work in our hands… God’s grace in our actions… God’s mercy in our words and deeds.
            By trusting in God’s faithfulness, as revealed in Jesus, we are brought into the same river of faithful action that swept up the first disciples. The grace of God extends to all, Jew and Greek, slave and free, male and female. In the community of the Way of Jesus, here and elsewhere, we preach the love of God for all and we practice it with one another. Then we carry it out to the world that wants to believe that physical health, financial well-being, and mental stability are the obvious markers of God’s grace, when any of these things may fail. There, but for the grace of God… goes no one. Surely a God who would go to the lengths of coming into the world as person to teach and to heal and then to be resurrected… surely that God desires that all people should experience the light of grace.
            The purpose of this assembly is steep ourselves in the faithfulness of God, to absorb trust and hope and then to stride out- refreshed by Word and water, community and communion. Strengthened, we set to the work of revealing that no one is outside of God’s grace. We feed, we clothe, we advocate, we listen, we invite, we pray.
            If we are not doing these things, then we are testing God. We are testing whether God’s grace is sufficient for all people. We are hoarding the gifts we have received and waiting to see what the Lord will do. God does not fail tests. God will not fail our neighbor, but we can shortchange ourselves in responding to God’s invitation and being frontline witnesses to the way that God’s grace makes all things new.
            The purpose of the church is to bring people together into the Way of Jesus and then to live that Way in the world. The inclusion of Gentiles, as they were, into the community of the faithful was a revolution we cannot comprehend. The Spirit does not stop its work of reformation and renewal, of provocation and invitation. The grace of God is on the move and disciples, then and now, are called to be at the frontlines of the work of boundary expansion.
Amen.

Washed and Fed for the World

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Easter 4 (Narrative Lectionary, Year C)
21 April 2013
Acts 8:26-39
The Holy Spirit does not hold to geographic boundaries. The Spirit does not hold to racial lines or ethnic markers. The Spirit does not detour to avoid the people we’d prefer not to see, not to hear, not to sit beside, or have included in our gathering. In the passage from Acts 8, that person is the Ethiopian eunuch. A eunuch is a man who does not have functioning testicles- either because they did not develop or because he has been maimed. A eunuch’s ability to reproduce has either withered on the vine or been pruned.
A eunuch is still a Jew, but may have been excluded from the assembly. Thus, for the purposes of temple life and worship, a eunuch is a man who is essentially a woman. And women don’t get to offer sacrifices. They don’t have standing. One’s blessings come through one’s husband and one’s ability to be receptive to his offerings, so to speak. (This is just awkward for everyone, but this eunuch is important. So stay with me.) A eunuch cannot fulfill the “actions of a man”(so to speak), so he does not get the privileges of being a man… including gathering in the assembly of the faithful. (Deut. 23:1)
Now, in your reading of Isaiah, you may recall a little song about eunuchs with a different tune. The prophet writes: Let no foreigner who is bound to the LORD say, “The LORD will surely exclude me from his people.” And let no eunuch complain,“ I am only a dry tree.” The prophet goes on to say that God will give a memorial better than children to faithful eunuchs, to faithful people. It might have served for God to mention that in one or two other places, since repetition is one of the main ways we learn, but sometimes I think God says to us, “How many times do I have to tell you this stuff?” (Isaiah 56:3)
            The Ethiopian eunuch is a servant in the queen’s court, chosen for that valued position because of his sexual safety. He will not overthrow the government because he cannot have children to continue his line, so (presumably) it would not be worth it. He obviously understands himself to be Jewish because he has traveled to Jerusalem for worship, for worship in the community that may not receive him. He goes to be present with people who are, mostly, of much lower social status than he is as a royal servant. The man has his own chariot and copies of Scripture. Even Peter doesn’t have that!
            Now consider this: how badly would you have to want to worship to travel hundreds of miles to go to a place that wouldn’t receive you to worship a God whose people have conspired to exclude you from the fullness of community? How much would you have to crave sacramental life to be enriched by just being close to it, much less participating? How much would you have to desire to know more about God’s salvation, which might not include you, to be reading a scroll of Isaiah on a bumpy chariot ride back to your home country? Does anyone here have that much desire? Is anyone here willing to allow the Spirit to be that powerful in his or her lives?
            And Philip appears- running alongside the chariot. Philip, who has been assigned to be a part of the food distribution in the Jerusalem meeting houses, is now speaking to someone who might as well be from the ends of the earth. Philip says, “Do you know what you’re reading?” and then goes on Isaiah’s servant song in the light of Jesus Christ. When Isaiah wrote it, it was understood in to apply to God’s servant Israel and Israel’s people. The Spirit’s interpretive expansion helped the early followers of Jesus to understand him (and their own call) as the servant who suffers for the sake of God’s work in the world.
            Moved by this interpretation, moved by this Bible study, the Ethiopian eunuch stops the chariot and says, “Here is water. What is to prevent me from being baptized?” He is so transformed by hearing Philip’s discourse on Jesus that he cannot wait to be included in the community through God’s promise in water and word. Baptism will change his allegiance, and his alliances, but it will be worth it because he will be drawn, clearly, into the story of God that the Spirit has been whispering in his ear.
            Does anyone here desire baptism that much? Does anyone long to revisit their baptism? Have you held yourself back from just splashing your face in the font- to remember, to clear your vision, to wake you up to your life reorientation in Christ? We trust that God loves and uses people who are not baptized, but in the Christian community it is the marker of beginning and belonging. It is a moment we can revisit again and again- a moment when the salvation we work out with fear and trembling became tangible. We are supposed to crave this moment- remembering it and desiring it for all around us.
Along with holy communion, the baptismal font give us a different lens for seeing ourselves, the people around us, and the people who we encounter outside of these doors- the same expanding circles of Spirit-inclusion that are in the Acts reading (the people in Jerusalem, the people in Judea, the people in Samaria, the people in Ethiopia and beyond). These sacraments, two places where we are assured of Christ’s presence, make us citizens in the kingdom of God with work to do right now. Part of that work is sharing the message that is implicit in these acts of communal washing and eating together- the message that all people are children of God.
When the world says, “racial minority”, we say “child of God.”
When the world says, “sexually suspect”, we say “child of God.”
When the world says, “illegal immigrant”, we say “child of God.”
When the world says, “homeless by choice”, we say “child of God.”
When the world says, “Palestinian or Israeli”, we say “child of God.”
When the world says, “mentally ill”, we say “child of God.”
When the world says, “terrorist”, we say “child of God.”
            The naming of our people, our friends and our enemies, as children of God puts us in the position to do the work of Christ. Work of feeding. Work of peace-making. Work of creating equality. Work of ensuring justice. The work of making God’s presence real by revealing that presence through the actions of God’s people. I am not saying we make God real through our right actions. I am saying that who God is becomes understandable through the clear actions of the people who call themselves people of God.
            In a world full of terror, natural disasters, and preventable human tragedies, there are people who crave good news. There are people who need advocates, though they may be in the wrong. There are people who are certain that they will never belong to the community of God- but they read the story anyway. In a world with this kind of longing, how do you account for the hope that is within you? Do we dare to cheapen God’s grace by assuming that the font and the table exist merely to assure us of God’s affection for us?
            These are dangerous places. They change the way we see the world and the way we see all children of God. We should approach these places with trembling- longing for the truth of their promises and afraid of what faithful participation will lead us into doing?
            The Holy Spirit does not hold to geographic boundaries. The Spirit does not hold to racial lines or ethnic markers. The Spirit does not detour to avoid the people we’d prefer not to see, not to hear, not to sit beside, or have included in our gathering.  And the Spirit does not, cannot, will not, pass by you. 
Amen.