a new hymn for the 2019 Confirmands of the Madison Christian Community
a new hymn for the 2019 Confirmands of the Madison Christian Community
a new hymn for the 2018 Confirmands of Advent Lutheran / Madison Christian Community
Yours for Goo
sermon for Reformation Sunday (Jeremiah31:31-34; Psalsm46; Romans3:19-28; John8:31-36)
Things are sure different these days. I know that’s cliché or even trite to say. That today is not exactly the same as yesterday should go without saying.
Yet today, for this Reformation day, for this moment in our faith life, this is an appropriate time again to note that things are different.
Partly it comes to mind because of Confirmation for our 10th graders. There are those among us who look back to this day long ago in your lives and remind the younger of us that you had to recite the Small Catechism from memory and risked the pressure of failure in front of the congregation and also that you couldn’t have communion until after you were confirmed and you feared your pastor and hated these classes at church, and—we’re sure—that you also had to walk uphill both ways miles to get to church.
So we’d have to say “good riddance” to “good old days” of that sort! We can well celebrate that church is now a place of relationships and not just rote memorization, more of nurture than fear, of reinforcing God’s blessings rather than threats. Some change is indeed good. And there’s some change that’s not as good, as we know.
For perceptions of change, let’s go back to the Old Testament, starting with our Psalm, since it describes vast changes. The early verses portray natural disasters, maybe with earthquakes or flooding like in Texas and Hurricane Patricia. Perhaps Luther’s paraphrase of this, on losing house or life itself, calls to mind recent wildfires. Or these may be words about the very earth in peril, of its foundations falling apart, as we have to confront in the reality of climate change.
The Psalm goes on to more apparently human destruction, of wars between nations, the hordes and tyrants in Luther’s wording. The Psalm’s fearfulness in Jerusalem pairs with those suffering in the Holy Land today, encountering threats of violence and intimidation and oppression. There’s a perpetual theme of access to God—the practice of religion—being cut off by those with weapons.
That’s enough parallels from ancient to modern that we might claim nothing ever changes. And yet the point is, amid the various ongoing threats to life and wellbeing that would take away what we need or count on, that God won’t be overcome. We proclaim with the Psalm, “we will not fear; God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble!”
That’s also a worthy reminder as we encounter transitions here, in the changes at St. Stephen’s. We rely on God who is with us to give us assistance and ability.
To move ahead, the Jeremiah reading also encounters change. It was written during a period of exile, far from that temple in Jerusalem, when people were without the usual comforts of life and home. Picture when you have moved someplace new and unfamiliar, or imagine what that moment will bring. That’s already enough instability and trepidation.
What made it more so for Jeremiah’s people was that they saw this dispersal from home as a punishment from God, a result of their failure to obey God’s laws and to follow God’s will for our lives and our communities. Though we may want to stop to argue about that view of punishment and consequences of disobedience, to move on to what this prophet is saying is an amazing and wonderful change.
Jeremiah says because God changed God’s mind, God will change your heart. God’s ultimately given up on lectures and to-do lists and sets of rules to try to get you to love your neighbor or to trust God’s goodness. Instead, God is just going to put a new heart in you. For those who remember Dick Mueser’s heart transplant eleven years ago and how much it changed him and gave him life, this is what God is up to in all of us, the work of faith, a faith that isn’t about forcing you into anything but about giving you a heart for service, for love, the heart of Christ.
That, then, points to Paul’s letter to the Romans. Also a time of change, this was when good news of God creating in us what we need was first understood as being also among outsiders, for categories of those who hadn’t been labeled as God’s people before. The old order was circumstantial: being born into the right genealogy, practicing the right habits, about what you had to do to be in right relationship with God.
But in an enormous change of understanding—one still causing us to expand our vision and reexamine our prejudices—this good news of the early church threw open the doors to all who had been excluded, had been excommunicated, been told that their access to God and participation in community was restricted or forbidden. This has repercussions both for our own anxieties and for how we interact with others. It says there’s nothing you can do that would make God abandon you, cut you off, give up on you. As Nadia Bolz-Weber writes about a woman in her new book:
“God loves her now. Not just after she manages to start making better decisions, not after she [cleans herself up]. God loves us now, all of us, as we are. Sometimes the simple experience of knowing this, of knowing that our sin is not what defines us, can finally set us free.”*
That woman was a meth addict who had just miscarried a pregnancy and was blaming the social worker, taking no responsibility herself. God loves her.
This is how all of this expands. It’s for you when you don’t fit in with your peers, and it’s for classmates who just seem weird or like jerks. It’s for when you’ve got a bad diagnosis and treatments aren’t doing what you want. It’s for the family whose son is transitioning to become their daughter. It’s for the dead and for the killers. With what I believe has especially been heard too little, it’s good news not just for humans but all God’s creatures. It’s that God loves the world. Jesus dies with you and for you, and will redeem all of our mess by raising it out of death. None of the hurt or tragedy can separate you from God’s love. Nothing that goes wrong indicates God has forsaken you or withheld newness of life or decided not to bless you. On the flip side, no amount of what you learn or credits you’ve earned or things you try to do right get you any closer to God, because God is already with you, as close as God’s new heart living in you.
That this good news is spreading and unstoppable may take us to another mark of our historical trajectory of looking at change. We went from Old Testament times into the start of the church and its welcome of outsiders, failures, sinner, bullies, and weirdos. That radical total inclusivity of the good news of God reforming us takes us up to the Reformation, to that October day when Martin Luther posted discussion points on a town bulletin board. Those 95 theses sparked much more than a debate in setting off enormous change not only to the church but to western culture and the shape of our lives still. There’s more cultural geography lesson there than we could go into.
For our arc today, we note that although we live with Luther’s heritage, we live in a very different time. Luther got copies of the Bible into people’s hands by translating it into their language and using the new technology of the printing press. But that’s a long way from the comic book Bibles we’re giving kids today or Mari Mitchell’s Bible app she reads during breaks at school on her iPod.
Among other changes, we could also consider the different place and role of the church. In Luther’s time, the church was so central and so present in people’s lives there was almost no escaping it. There was no choosing not to be part of a church. But to be kicked out of church (like Luther was) made you exempt from society, an outlaw, literally outside-the-law, a life that had no value, where if somebody killed you they wouldn’t even be punished for it. A single hierarchy of the church controlled much of society, as opposed to so many denominations now and our very regular interactions with people of other religions or no religion.
And the problem in Luther’s time was that the church, this institution that was so constantly present, was proclaiming the wrong message, was undermining the good news from God, and so people weren’t able to hear it and get the relief and blessing they so desperately needed.
I suspect we’ve got partially the opposite problem now, that the church disappears so far into the background of busy lives filled with choices amid bustling society and all kinds of news and advertising and stresses and that we’re overwhelmed by these dominating messages from the world around us, and that is the reason we aren’t hearing the good news from God and getting the relief and blessing we so desperately need.
Which brings us to this Confirmation class today. This is a milestone in their different and changing lives, with all kinds of new experiences and exciting opportunities and developing identities and lots of pressures. Along with all that, Confirmation itself has regularly marked a big change in life. We have good reason to celebrate their completion of all kinds of requirements and the end of sermon notes and, in many families, the transition when young adults are given their own decisions on how (and sometimes even whether) to participate in church.
But it’s also a reminder from Jesus, who tells us that remaining with him is what liberates us. As this group largely understands, this isn’t a moment to escape church, to be excluded from this gathering. Rather, as so many voices bombard you by saying you’re not good enough and need to work harder and act differently and be somebody else—voices that come even amid some very good parts of life—yet that can be what confines you, enslaves you, is what you need to be set free from. And that’s why we continue repeating the good news that’s an old, old story, what we share here of a Lord who is willing to die for you—yes, you!—just because he loves you and he’ll take tender care of you and bring you through it, for today, and for whatever changes tomorrow brings, and forever.
* Accidental Saints, p135
Comments for All Saints Sunday (and Confirmation) – 3 Nov 14
Revelation 7:9-17; Matthew 5:1-12
T: “Praise to you, O Christ?!” It’s one of those Gospel readings that makes you wonder. It really doesn’t sound much like good news.
N: Yeah, agreed. If this is what a blessing from God is like, we may ask if we even want to be blessed, or if it’s more of a curse.
But we should pause, since these are among the most famous sayings of Jesus. They’re his first public words in the Gospel of Matthew, the very start of the Sermon on the Mount. We call them the Beatitudes. The name actually comes from the Latin in this passage, beatus, blessed, and it doesn’t take long to realize the Beatitudes are probably the opposite of that old Crystal Cathedral book about the “be happy attitudes.” These blessings definitely don’t seem like they’re designed trying to make you happy.
But maybe that’s a worthwhile thing to remember as we get going today. Blessing isn’t something we choose, and following Jesus isn’t about just getting what we want. If we’re simply seeking happiness and some sort of self-satisfaction, then this says we’re barking up the wrong tree. We’d go running the opposite direction. See, nobody would say, “I’d be more fulfilled in life and really be an achiever if only I could suffer some. I think I’ll go out and really find something to make me mourn and grieve. That’d be great!” Right?
So the beatitudes could seem like real buzzkills and downers. But we also need to recognize that Jesus isn’t exactly giving a motivational speech here, at least not like we’d normally picture it. These first words of his first sermon aren’t a mass-market advertisement trying to make his listeners happy, and they certainly aren’t about telling them how they can get more from God, how they can manage to be more blessed, to squeeze more blessing out of a reluctant God.
Instead, this is already what his listeners were dealing with, and what we’re dealing with. It’s about God and our reality, real life. And it’s still remarkable to hear. There’s something inside of us, or something about our culture, that still wants to claim that if you’re suffering, if you’re sad, if people don’t like you, if you’re weak, if you’re not rich, then you’re doing something wrong. It claims that if God really liked you—or even if God really existed—then you’d be pain-free and happy and strong and have a bigger house and no worries.
Jesus says that’s a lie. God does not abandon us in the hard places. God’s blessing is especially where you need it most, when you need it most. And not only that, but all that rotten stuff of persecution and hunger and war and injustice and poverty and all that makes us so sorrowful and even death are not the end of the story and that doesn’t define you. Jesus not only says, but shows that there is more. Even death, as completely terrible as it is, cannot separate us from God’s blessing and love. That’s the point of this message especially for All Saints Sunday.
T: the ordeal and Revelation
ending with Rolf joke for confirmation – “Who are these robed in white? The ones who came through the great ordeal!”
N: That’s a great line, though I have to stick up for Confirmation here at St. Stephen’s. Especially for those of older generations who with fear and trembling faced tests on memorization in front of the congregation, you should know that students at St. Stephen’s really do enjoy this program. We have students wanting to be here, Sunday School students begging parents to get to go to church, even dragging their kicking-and-screaming parents here!
For this set of Confirmands today, they did talk about the ordeals earlier. I even heard that when he was 7-ish, Nate made a little sign to hold up in worship that said, “I hate church.” And they’ve all faced questions and struggles, wondering about how the science of evolution fits in with belief, for example. This group is also concerned for justice and angry at how exclusionary and oppressive some churches and those claiming to be Christian can be, and part of what makes St. Stephen’s work so well for them is that we’re Reconciling in Christ, welcoming to people of all sexual orientations and gender identities. Nate, Sydney, and Jordan would be quick to point out the ordeal of being in the Boundary Waters with me through a fearful lightning storm. And Travis certainly has had more than his share of ordeals, as today among the saints we are remembering the death of his grandmother and last year his father.
Yet, again, it’s not just the ordeals and struggles and doubts, but also many great moments of community. And that’s part of what makes these four students exemplary saints for us today. We can look at them as our examples, as reminders of what faith means and what it can do as we share it in community. They describe great relationships with each other.
Even more, they’ve been broadly important in this community. I love thinking back to my early days, when I’d be leading Time for Children and as soon as I started to ask a question, Sydney’s hand would be up, and I’d call on her and there’d be a pause. She didn’t have an answer; she just liked being called on. Still my office door is decorated with sketches from Jordan, including a favorite of mine from an early one of our annual Martin Luther King observances, portraying his victories for racial equality and justice. Travis, or Lars as he was known during Confirmation classes, was always good for some humor and laughter, but you shouldn’t let that fool you because he’s tremendous at caring for young children and is eager to teach Sunday School. Nathan not only brought his pet snake Steve to VBS, but also connected with the Senior Ministry Team and did a presentation at Seasoned Saints.
All of that shows these four saints can’t be isolated by age group, or restricted in our view of them. They are very fully saints, sharing the struggles we all have, and also being a benefit to this community in at least as good of ways as the rest of us.
T: baptism as tying all of us into this promise and sainthood