December 2020
"A Story of Peace"
Based on Mark 1:1-8 (reading at the end of the sermon)
December 6, 2020
Stories are powerful.
Recently, I read about a researcher at Northwestern University who discovered that people’s stories of their experiences in psychotherapy provided clues connected to their recovery. During a study that took place several years ago, Jonathan Adler reported on 180 adults from Chicago who had spent time seeing a counselor. They sought treatment for things like depression and anxiety, relationship problems and the fear of flying. Each person spent months to years in therapy.
For many, talk therapy is a way of replaying and re-interpreting their own unique life story. Adler found that the people who scored highest in feelings of well-being at the end of therapy told similar stories about their experience.
Most described how their mental health problem came on suddenly, almost out of nowhere. When they talked about their struggle, they described if like an outside enemy. Some even gave it a name like “the scary dog” or “the walk of shame.” Many talked about their problem in the third person, seeing it like a plotline in a movie or storyline in a book—with themselves as the protagonist. A common ending to their story used words like: “I stopped seeing my therapist because I found I could finally overcome this on my own.”
The same study also showed that those who scored lower at the end of counseling tended to see their emotional struggles as a part of their own character, rather than an obstacle to be overcome. In analyzing the responses, the researchers found a significant correlation between the quality of people’s mental health and the stories they tell about themselves.
According to Adler, it suggests that talk therapy can give individuals—who initially feel helpless—a sense of their own power. To find meaning in suffering. It becomes an opportunity to retell and reframe and reimagine their own life story.
Today’s Gospel lesson is a story like that. Like any good story, Mark starts at the beginning. The first word Mark uses is the Greek word for “beginning”: (arche)—the same word used in Genesis to introduce the creation story: “In the beginning.” A story that conveys the meaning of creation. With God’s powerful Spirit “moving over the face of the waters” and proclaiming, “Let there be light.”
In Mark, we hear another powerful story about John the Baptizer, who also proclaims a new beginning: “The voice of one crying out in the wilderness, ‘Prepare the way of the Lord!’” Here in Mark like in Genesis, God is creating something new, out of the chaos of the wilderness.
In Mark, we meet John before we learn anything about Jesus. Mark could have started John’s story by listing the failures of his ministry. Later in this Gospel, we learn about John’s imprisonment and execution. The infamous story of his beheading by King Herod.
Instead Mark tells the daring story of a prophet. John calls the people to follow him on a crazy trip through the wind-blown desert to be baptized in the River Jordan. In a world full of cruel dictators like the Roman Caesar and Jewish King Herod, John tells people that the Ruler of the world is coming.
He proclaims, “The one who is more powerful than I is coming! I’m not worthy to even untie his shoelaces. I baptized you with water, but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.” Then John baptizes Jesus.
There’s a paradox in this story. Jesus is a greater person, but John—the so-called “unworthy” prophet—baptizes him. But John doesn’t let his feelings of unworthiness or low self-esteem define his ministry or his life story. Instead, John finds meaning in describing his own role as the one who introduces Jesus to the world.
Our faith tells a similar story. Like John, we Lutherans believe we aren’t worthy of God’s grace. Yet, God uses us flawed and imperfect humans to reveal Jesus to the world. Even when we feel insecure or full of self-doubts.
Even when we’re burdened with depression or grief or anxiety. Even when we feel overwhelmed by fear and the stresses of the ongoing pandemic.
Despite all that and the other struggles you and I face in our lives each day, God calls us to speak to those who need to hear a word of grace. We do that because God has given us the same Spirit Jesus received in baptism. A Spirit that empowers us for ministry—preparing us to walk the way of the cross as disciples through the wilderness of life.
A Spirit that reframes our personal story even when we lack the strength or insight or self-esteem to do that ourselves. A Spirit that allows us to feel hope again even in the deepest despair and sorrow.
And to view ourselves as creatures formed by the One who created everything at the beginning of time. Who called life from the chaotic void of space. To believe that we truly are beloved children, fearfully and wonderfully made by a God who gave birth to a baby in a lowly manger. To hear our calling to tell the story of Jesus as part of our personal life story.
The story of how God’s grace has reshaped our hearts and souls. Love that has rewritten our stories so that we never see ourselves and one another the same way again.
With a God-given faith that leads us to fight against the loud, hate-filled voices which today tell us that we are worthless sinners, unworthy of God’s love. Voices that may cause us to believe their lies. To doubt ourselves and God’s promises. To withdraw from human contact. To live in fear of trusting others.
Yet today there’s another voice crying out in this world’s wilderness. The voice of John the Baptizer. The voice of other witnesses. The voice of our own soul. The voice of the Spirit.
Who, on this second Sunday in Advent, the Sunday of Peace, is calling us to find peace and shalom (the Hebrew word for peace). Peace within our hearts. Peace in the midst of the chaos of this world.
Peace that gives us the strength to see ourselves the way John the Baptizer saw himself. As people who—despite our personal weaknesses and failures—still have a story to share about how God has changed our lives.
I'd like to close with a prayer that was read at the interment of my husband Charlie’s mother about three weeks ago. St. Francis of Assisi's beautiful prayer for peace. Which we took from a plaque that hung in Dona’s home. A reminder of the kind of peace that gives meaning to our lives, brings comfort to grieving hearts, and creates a framework for a loved one’s life story. Here’s the poem:
“Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me bring love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
where there is sadness, joy.
O Divine Master, grant that I may not
so much seek to be consoled as to console,
to be understood as to understand,
to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying
that we are born to eternal life.” Amen.
--------------------------------------
GOSPEL LESSON: Mark 1.1-8
1The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. 2As it is written in the prophet Isaiah, “See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way; 3the voice of one crying out in the wilderness: ‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight,’ ” 4John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. 5And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him, and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins. 6Now John was clothed with camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. 7He proclaimed, “The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals. 8I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.”
Recently, I read about a researcher at Northwestern University who discovered that people’s stories of their experiences in psychotherapy provided clues connected to their recovery. During a study that took place several years ago, Jonathan Adler reported on 180 adults from Chicago who had spent time seeing a counselor. They sought treatment for things like depression and anxiety, relationship problems and the fear of flying. Each person spent months to years in therapy.
For many, talk therapy is a way of replaying and re-interpreting their own unique life story. Adler found that the people who scored highest in feelings of well-being at the end of therapy told similar stories about their experience.
Most described how their mental health problem came on suddenly, almost out of nowhere. When they talked about their struggle, they described if like an outside enemy. Some even gave it a name like “the scary dog” or “the walk of shame.” Many talked about their problem in the third person, seeing it like a plotline in a movie or storyline in a book—with themselves as the protagonist. A common ending to their story used words like: “I stopped seeing my therapist because I found I could finally overcome this on my own.”
The same study also showed that those who scored lower at the end of counseling tended to see their emotional struggles as a part of their own character, rather than an obstacle to be overcome. In analyzing the responses, the researchers found a significant correlation between the quality of people’s mental health and the stories they tell about themselves.
According to Adler, it suggests that talk therapy can give individuals—who initially feel helpless—a sense of their own power. To find meaning in suffering. It becomes an opportunity to retell and reframe and reimagine their own life story.
Today’s Gospel lesson is a story like that. Like any good story, Mark starts at the beginning. The first word Mark uses is the Greek word for “beginning”: (arche)—the same word used in Genesis to introduce the creation story: “In the beginning.” A story that conveys the meaning of creation. With God’s powerful Spirit “moving over the face of the waters” and proclaiming, “Let there be light.”
In Mark, we hear another powerful story about John the Baptizer, who also proclaims a new beginning: “The voice of one crying out in the wilderness, ‘Prepare the way of the Lord!’” Here in Mark like in Genesis, God is creating something new, out of the chaos of the wilderness.
In Mark, we meet John before we learn anything about Jesus. Mark could have started John’s story by listing the failures of his ministry. Later in this Gospel, we learn about John’s imprisonment and execution. The infamous story of his beheading by King Herod.
Instead Mark tells the daring story of a prophet. John calls the people to follow him on a crazy trip through the wind-blown desert to be baptized in the River Jordan. In a world full of cruel dictators like the Roman Caesar and Jewish King Herod, John tells people that the Ruler of the world is coming.
He proclaims, “The one who is more powerful than I is coming! I’m not worthy to even untie his shoelaces. I baptized you with water, but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.” Then John baptizes Jesus.
There’s a paradox in this story. Jesus is a greater person, but John—the so-called “unworthy” prophet—baptizes him. But John doesn’t let his feelings of unworthiness or low self-esteem define his ministry or his life story. Instead, John finds meaning in describing his own role as the one who introduces Jesus to the world.
Our faith tells a similar story. Like John, we Lutherans believe we aren’t worthy of God’s grace. Yet, God uses us flawed and imperfect humans to reveal Jesus to the world. Even when we feel insecure or full of self-doubts.
Even when we’re burdened with depression or grief or anxiety. Even when we feel overwhelmed by fear and the stresses of the ongoing pandemic.
Despite all that and the other struggles you and I face in our lives each day, God calls us to speak to those who need to hear a word of grace. We do that because God has given us the same Spirit Jesus received in baptism. A Spirit that empowers us for ministry—preparing us to walk the way of the cross as disciples through the wilderness of life.
A Spirit that reframes our personal story even when we lack the strength or insight or self-esteem to do that ourselves. A Spirit that allows us to feel hope again even in the deepest despair and sorrow.
And to view ourselves as creatures formed by the One who created everything at the beginning of time. Who called life from the chaotic void of space. To believe that we truly are beloved children, fearfully and wonderfully made by a God who gave birth to a baby in a lowly manger. To hear our calling to tell the story of Jesus as part of our personal life story.
The story of how God’s grace has reshaped our hearts and souls. Love that has rewritten our stories so that we never see ourselves and one another the same way again.
With a God-given faith that leads us to fight against the loud, hate-filled voices which today tell us that we are worthless sinners, unworthy of God’s love. Voices that may cause us to believe their lies. To doubt ourselves and God’s promises. To withdraw from human contact. To live in fear of trusting others.
Yet today there’s another voice crying out in this world’s wilderness. The voice of John the Baptizer. The voice of other witnesses. The voice of our own soul. The voice of the Spirit.
Who, on this second Sunday in Advent, the Sunday of Peace, is calling us to find peace and shalom (the Hebrew word for peace). Peace within our hearts. Peace in the midst of the chaos of this world.
Peace that gives us the strength to see ourselves the way John the Baptizer saw himself. As people who—despite our personal weaknesses and failures—still have a story to share about how God has changed our lives.
I'd like to close with a prayer that was read at the interment of my husband Charlie’s mother about three weeks ago. St. Francis of Assisi's beautiful prayer for peace. Which we took from a plaque that hung in Dona’s home. A reminder of the kind of peace that gives meaning to our lives, brings comfort to grieving hearts, and creates a framework for a loved one’s life story. Here’s the poem:
“Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me bring love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
where there is sadness, joy.
O Divine Master, grant that I may not
so much seek to be consoled as to console,
to be understood as to understand,
to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying
that we are born to eternal life.” Amen.
--------------------------------------
GOSPEL LESSON: Mark 1.1-8
1The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. 2As it is written in the prophet Isaiah, “See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way; 3the voice of one crying out in the wilderness: ‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight,’ ” 4John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. 5And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him, and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins. 6Now John was clothed with camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. 7He proclaimed, “The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals. 8I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.”
"Joy"
Based on John 1:6-8, 19-28 (reading at the end of the sermon)
December 13, 2020
One of my first social service jobs was with Catholic Charities in Minneapolis. I was a case manager with an employment program. We helped homeless and low-income individuals look for work and overcome the many personal and social barriers they faced.
One day, a man came through our door carrying a large garbage bag. He told me he was staying in a shelter at night, but had nowhere to leave his belongings during the day. Everything he owned was in that bag.
I started explaining that we had a policy about not holding stuff like that for people—mostly because we got so many requests like his. Eventually we changed the rule.
But on that day, that man didn’t want to hear my explanation or plans for the future. He swore at me and said, “You guys say you’re Catholic! But you ain’t no Catholics! You’re frickin’ Episcopalians!” Then he stormed out the door.
I was stunned, and laughed about it later with a coworker. I was surprised that he blamed my refusal on what he thought was my religious identity.
I imagine that the people in today’s Gospel lesson might have had a similar reaction to the question of John the Baptist’s identity. “Who do you think you are?” the religious leaders ask. “You say you’re not the messiah or Elijah or the prophet. Then why are you baptizing people if you ain’t one of those?”
John’s answer doesn’t help them much: “I’m a voice crying in the wilderness, ‘Make straight the way of the Lord!” Here in this passage, John the Baptist is called a witness—a word used more than 50 times in the Gospel of John. Paired with terms like “testify” and “testimony,” it’s the same language we use for legal courts and judicial proceedings.
Though not the kind of hearings taking place lately. Where politicians have appealed numerous claims of a rigged election all the way to the Supreme Court. Without factual evidence or reliable witnesses.
In contrast, John the Baptist is a true witness.
When I was in seminary, I decided to legally change my name—from my birth name of “Joey” to a new name, “Joseph.” Many transgender individuals have gone through that process. Which meant I had to hire a lawyer, appear before a judge, and bring two witnesses to testify that I really was who I said was. My witnesses were my retired dad and my sister-in-law Renae.
John the Baptist is that kind of witness. He’s not there to testify about himself. He’s there to confirm[JL1] the identity of Jesus. John was a transitional voice speaking in a time between what was and what would be. A radical role—pointing away from himself to someone new.
John’s testimony points to the One who is (in the theologian Paul Tillich’s words) the Ground of Being. The One who created all things. The One who gives us life in the midst of death. The One who is God’s change agent for salvation and redemption and reparations.
In the words of Isaiah from our first reading, Jesus is the one who brings good news to the oppressed, binds up the brokenhearted, breaks through racist systems, frees those in prison and detention centers, comforts those who mourn, and offers relief to the poor and hungry. With Jesus in mind, John the Baptist speaks to people facing hopeless situations and powerful threats posed by oppressive empires.
For many of us, the past 10 months have brought a similar loss of hope. Where much of what used to give life meaning and structure has been taken away. Some of us have lost loved ones and friends due to the pandemic or suicide or untimely deaths. Sadly, we now have more Americans dying each day from COVID-19 than killed at Pearl Harbor or 9/11.
We long for the ways things used to be. We long for holidays when we could freely gather with family and friends. We long to go back to work, to school, to the way we used to live our daily lives. In the long nights of a dreary December winter, we long for the solstice of a new season.
As a Christian, I believe that much of life is lived during the in-between, liminal times like today. Between the promise of the Coming One and the day that changes the way things are. Between our current reality and the not-yet day of the Kingdom of God. Between the development of a vaccine and the day when it starts to save lives. Between the hope of something better, and the joy when it finally comes true.
Today is the Third Sunday of Advent. Some Christians call it Gaudete Sunday. The name comes from the Latin word for “rejoice.” Mary the mother of Jesus uses that word in the song she sings in today’s psalmody from Luke: “My spirit rejoices in God my Savior!” A radical, “Mary-contrary” chant where everything gets turned upside down and inside out. Where the mighty get dethroned in surprise. And the lowly are lifted up, laughing with joy.
Centuries ago, the Church started the season of Advent as a time of penitence in preparation for Christmas. Originally, it lasted 40 days, like Lent. But in the 9th century, it was reduced to four weeks. And to make the season easier, they added Gaudete Sunday as a day of joy, with a new liturgical color! Where pastors like me can wear fabulous pink stoles! With the kind of joy that comes from doing something silly or unexpected.
Joy, of course, isn’t the same as happiness. Happiness is often based on external circumstances. Joy comes from deep within.
Joy is also not the artificial cheerfulness of those who smile through their masks and wish you a Merry Christmas. Joy can be present during the most difficult times. Even in the midst of grief and loss.
I believe the question for us today is: “Where do you still find joy?” For some of you, it might be in the love you have for your child or spouse or pet. For some of you, it might be listening to music or baking cookies or decorating for Christmas. For some of you, it might be found in a conversation with a good friend
I found joy this week in a very unexpected place—a Zoom meeting! During a monthly support group for individuals living with HIV/AIDS. A group once sponsored by the Minnkota Health Project, which was forced to close this past year. Back then, I questioned whether it was worth my effort to keep the group going.
But our meeting on Tuesday definitely changed my mind. For individuals shared how much the group means to them. In terms of living with AIDS and its stigma. In terms of dealing with the loneliness of the disease and their self-isolation due to their fear of COVID. It terms of being poor with limited resources.
This year, I also wondered about whether to do the holiday gift program with them. But when Naomi sent an email out to our church community, eleven people signed up right away to purchase gifts. And we ended up with exactly eleven recipients!
At our meeting, we also talked about a new name for the group. After several ideas, we came up with “Positive Hearts.” The word “positive” of course represents being HIV+. And “hearts” is for the love and caring they share in the group. One member even came up with a new logo during our meeting (a white plus sign in the middle of a red heart.)
That’s the kind of thing that brings me joy. And that’s the kind of joy that Advent is all about. The joy of knowing that God first surprised us by becoming one of us in Jesus. The joy of knowing that God still enters our lives at unexpected times, even in pain and sorrow.
The joy of knowing that Jesus still comes among us—often in unpredictable ways—this Christmas. Beloved, I pray that you may find that kind of joy today. Amen.
------------------------------------------------
GOSPEL LESSON: John 1:6-8, 19-28
There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light…. This is the testimony given by John when the Jews sent priests and Levites from Jerusalem to ask him, “Who are you?” He confessed and did not deny it, but confessed, “I am not the Messiah.” And they asked him, “What then? Are you Elijah?” He said, “I am not.” “Are you the prophet?” He answered, “No.” Then they said to him, “Who are you? Let us have an answer for those who sent us. What do you say about yourself?” He said, “I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness, ‘Make straight the way of the Lord,’” as the prophet Isaiah said. Now they had been sent from the Pharisees. They asked him, “Why then are you baptizing if you are neither the Messiah, nor Elijah, nor the prophet?” John answered them, “I baptize with water. Among you stands one whom you do not know, the one who is coming after me; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandal.” This took place in Bethany across the Jordan where John was baptizing.
One day, a man came through our door carrying a large garbage bag. He told me he was staying in a shelter at night, but had nowhere to leave his belongings during the day. Everything he owned was in that bag.
I started explaining that we had a policy about not holding stuff like that for people—mostly because we got so many requests like his. Eventually we changed the rule.
But on that day, that man didn’t want to hear my explanation or plans for the future. He swore at me and said, “You guys say you’re Catholic! But you ain’t no Catholics! You’re frickin’ Episcopalians!” Then he stormed out the door.
I was stunned, and laughed about it later with a coworker. I was surprised that he blamed my refusal on what he thought was my religious identity.
I imagine that the people in today’s Gospel lesson might have had a similar reaction to the question of John the Baptist’s identity. “Who do you think you are?” the religious leaders ask. “You say you’re not the messiah or Elijah or the prophet. Then why are you baptizing people if you ain’t one of those?”
John’s answer doesn’t help them much: “I’m a voice crying in the wilderness, ‘Make straight the way of the Lord!” Here in this passage, John the Baptist is called a witness—a word used more than 50 times in the Gospel of John. Paired with terms like “testify” and “testimony,” it’s the same language we use for legal courts and judicial proceedings.
Though not the kind of hearings taking place lately. Where politicians have appealed numerous claims of a rigged election all the way to the Supreme Court. Without factual evidence or reliable witnesses.
In contrast, John the Baptist is a true witness.
When I was in seminary, I decided to legally change my name—from my birth name of “Joey” to a new name, “Joseph.” Many transgender individuals have gone through that process. Which meant I had to hire a lawyer, appear before a judge, and bring two witnesses to testify that I really was who I said was. My witnesses were my retired dad and my sister-in-law Renae.
John the Baptist is that kind of witness. He’s not there to testify about himself. He’s there to confirm[JL1] the identity of Jesus. John was a transitional voice speaking in a time between what was and what would be. A radical role—pointing away from himself to someone new.
John’s testimony points to the One who is (in the theologian Paul Tillich’s words) the Ground of Being. The One who created all things. The One who gives us life in the midst of death. The One who is God’s change agent for salvation and redemption and reparations.
In the words of Isaiah from our first reading, Jesus is the one who brings good news to the oppressed, binds up the brokenhearted, breaks through racist systems, frees those in prison and detention centers, comforts those who mourn, and offers relief to the poor and hungry. With Jesus in mind, John the Baptist speaks to people facing hopeless situations and powerful threats posed by oppressive empires.
For many of us, the past 10 months have brought a similar loss of hope. Where much of what used to give life meaning and structure has been taken away. Some of us have lost loved ones and friends due to the pandemic or suicide or untimely deaths. Sadly, we now have more Americans dying each day from COVID-19 than killed at Pearl Harbor or 9/11.
We long for the ways things used to be. We long for holidays when we could freely gather with family and friends. We long to go back to work, to school, to the way we used to live our daily lives. In the long nights of a dreary December winter, we long for the solstice of a new season.
As a Christian, I believe that much of life is lived during the in-between, liminal times like today. Between the promise of the Coming One and the day that changes the way things are. Between our current reality and the not-yet day of the Kingdom of God. Between the development of a vaccine and the day when it starts to save lives. Between the hope of something better, and the joy when it finally comes true.
Today is the Third Sunday of Advent. Some Christians call it Gaudete Sunday. The name comes from the Latin word for “rejoice.” Mary the mother of Jesus uses that word in the song she sings in today’s psalmody from Luke: “My spirit rejoices in God my Savior!” A radical, “Mary-contrary” chant where everything gets turned upside down and inside out. Where the mighty get dethroned in surprise. And the lowly are lifted up, laughing with joy.
Centuries ago, the Church started the season of Advent as a time of penitence in preparation for Christmas. Originally, it lasted 40 days, like Lent. But in the 9th century, it was reduced to four weeks. And to make the season easier, they added Gaudete Sunday as a day of joy, with a new liturgical color! Where pastors like me can wear fabulous pink stoles! With the kind of joy that comes from doing something silly or unexpected.
Joy, of course, isn’t the same as happiness. Happiness is often based on external circumstances. Joy comes from deep within.
Joy is also not the artificial cheerfulness of those who smile through their masks and wish you a Merry Christmas. Joy can be present during the most difficult times. Even in the midst of grief and loss.
I believe the question for us today is: “Where do you still find joy?” For some of you, it might be in the love you have for your child or spouse or pet. For some of you, it might be listening to music or baking cookies or decorating for Christmas. For some of you, it might be found in a conversation with a good friend
I found joy this week in a very unexpected place—a Zoom meeting! During a monthly support group for individuals living with HIV/AIDS. A group once sponsored by the Minnkota Health Project, which was forced to close this past year. Back then, I questioned whether it was worth my effort to keep the group going.
But our meeting on Tuesday definitely changed my mind. For individuals shared how much the group means to them. In terms of living with AIDS and its stigma. In terms of dealing with the loneliness of the disease and their self-isolation due to their fear of COVID. It terms of being poor with limited resources.
This year, I also wondered about whether to do the holiday gift program with them. But when Naomi sent an email out to our church community, eleven people signed up right away to purchase gifts. And we ended up with exactly eleven recipients!
At our meeting, we also talked about a new name for the group. After several ideas, we came up with “Positive Hearts.” The word “positive” of course represents being HIV+. And “hearts” is for the love and caring they share in the group. One member even came up with a new logo during our meeting (a white plus sign in the middle of a red heart.)
That’s the kind of thing that brings me joy. And that’s the kind of joy that Advent is all about. The joy of knowing that God first surprised us by becoming one of us in Jesus. The joy of knowing that God still enters our lives at unexpected times, even in pain and sorrow.
The joy of knowing that Jesus still comes among us—often in unpredictable ways—this Christmas. Beloved, I pray that you may find that kind of joy today. Amen.
------------------------------------------------
GOSPEL LESSON: John 1:6-8, 19-28
There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light…. This is the testimony given by John when the Jews sent priests and Levites from Jerusalem to ask him, “Who are you?” He confessed and did not deny it, but confessed, “I am not the Messiah.” And they asked him, “What then? Are you Elijah?” He said, “I am not.” “Are you the prophet?” He answered, “No.” Then they said to him, “Who are you? Let us have an answer for those who sent us. What do you say about yourself?” He said, “I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness, ‘Make straight the way of the Lord,’” as the prophet Isaiah said. Now they had been sent from the Pharisees. They asked him, “Why then are you baptizing if you are neither the Messiah, nor Elijah, nor the prophet?” John answered them, “I baptize with water. Among you stands one whom you do not know, the one who is coming after me; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandal.” This took place in Bethany across the Jordan where John was baptizing.
"Favored"
Based on Luke 1:26-38 (reading at the end of the sermon)
December 20, 2020
When my mother died in 2003, something changed in my heart. For years, my husband Charlie and I had attended UCC churches in the Twin Cities. Charlie grew up in the United Church of Christ. We met at a UCC church in 1989, and three years later our commitment ceremony was there.
But for me, having grown up Lutheran and attending a Lutheran college and seminary, it never quite felt like home. I missed the Lutheran liturgy and theology. And after my mother’s death, I started thinking about coming back.
I knew about this congregation in South Minneapolis that earlier that year had called a lesbian pastor. Our friend Tim was a member. So Charlie and I decided to join.
Their pastor Mary Albing had attended seminary with me, though I didn’t know her back then. She married another seminarian named Bob. Together they served parishes here in North Dakota and raised two children. Eventually Mary came out and got a divorce. She worked as a chaplain before being called by Lutheran Church of Christ the Redeemer as their first LGBTQ pastor. Called long before the ELCA voted to allow the ordination of people like us. Because of that, the Synod never recognized Mary’s call until after the 2009 vote. A white male bishop finally came to install her after she had served as pastor for seven years. Oh, the crazy things we church people do!
A couple years later, I went to Pastor Mary to talk about the idea of me seeking ordination. A difficult and painful and scary decision. A return to an unfulfilled dream from my youth. Mary helped me think about that and confirmed my sense of call. She told me I would make a great pastor. Mary was a model for me of how a queer individual can gracefully serve a congregation. Her encouragement relieved my fears. And helped me believe it was possible. If it weren’t for Mary, I might not be here today.
I was reminded of that conversation after reading today’s lesson from Luke, which presents a similar model for faithful service in response to God’s call. With another Mary. Mary the mother of Jesus.
And what’s significant in Luke’s Gospel is that Mary speaks. A lot. We hear about Mary in the Christmas narrative in Matthew, but Mary never says anything there. Her husband Joseph does all the talking. Does that sound familiar to anyone?
Here in Luke, Mary is spoken to and she talks back. In Luke, women speak a mere fifteen times. And only Mary gives a speech and significant responses here and later in the Magnificat (Luke 1:46-55). A lot of Christians—especially a lot of male believers and clergy—hold Mary up as a model for humble submission. A traditional role for women within the Church.
But I believe Mary is much more than that. For Mary transcended barriers most men never even think about. Social and religious and family obstacles for a poor, pregnant Jewish girl living in ancient Palestine under an oppressive Roman empire.
According to Luke, the angel Gabriel is sent by God to give a message to Mary. Not through her husband. Not through her father. Not through the male religious hierarchy. But directly to Mary. And Gabriel makes three main points (like in a PowerPoint presentation): (1) Gabriel tells Mary that she is favored by God; (2) Gabriel tells Mary not to be afraid; and (3) Gabriel tells Mary that nothing is impossible with God.
The angel Gabriel appears elsewhere in the Bible. In Hebrew scripture, Gabriel is a messenger who helps the prophet Daniel understand his visions and the calling of Israel within the drama of human history. Gabriel’s message to Daniel sounds a lot like what Mary hears: You are favored by God. Don’t be afraid. And God will do whatever possible to save God’s faithful people.
Gabriel also appears earlier in Luke’s Gospel. To Zechariah the priest, the husband of Elizabeth, in the Jerusalem temple. And the message is similar. God is coming to bless your wife. Don’t be afraid. For with God, nothing is impossible. With God’s bidding, even an elderly barren women can give birth to a new prophet, John the Baptist.
It’s interesting to note that in many stories of divine calls, God offers words of acceptance and assurance before the main message. Simple phrases like Gabriel’s words for Mary, “You have found favor with God.” In Greek, this word for “favor” is used only three times in the New Testament. It’s a passive verb describing the personal effect of something incredibly generous, done for you. Literally, it means “you have been filled with grace.”
The kind of grace sometimes experienced in our lives—like when arriving home during a blizzard and hearing your spouse or partner say, “Hey, look! Our driveway has been shoveled by our neighbor!” Or having a waiter in a restaurant explain, “The customer before you decided to ‘pay it forward,’ so your check is already taken care of.”
I believe that’s the kind of grace we need today. As the COVID pandemic continues to spread, with nearly 18 million cases and 300,000 deaths in our country. As grief shatters more hearts than reflected in daily statistics. As we all wonder how long we can keep this up—especially health care workers and those of us struggling with depression and anxiety and loneliness.
In the midst our current situation, the angel Gabriel comes to us to tell us that like Mary, you and I are favored by God. That each of us is a beloved creature, fearfully and wonderfully made. To speak the same words Gabriel spoke to Mary: “You are loved. Don’t be afraid. With God, you can go on.”
In the Bible, words of assurance like these have an intended purpose. They’re spoken to give comfort when the rhythms of everyday life are disrupted. To offer relief when a community is stressed beyond its resources. And to plant hope-filled seeds when the soil of our heart feels cold and barren.
I like to think that Mary probably was not an exceptional girl. Except perhaps that she dared to believe she had actually found favor with God. Not because of anything she had done or the kind of life she lived. But simply by God saying it was so.
That’s the definition of grace. The unmerited favor of God. Unconditional love given to the unworthy. Which is sometimes hard for us to accept and understand. As Bono, the lead singer of U2, once put it: “Grace defies reason and logic. Love interrupts… the consequences of your actions.”
That’s the kind of grace that interrupts our lives this Christmas. God as a baby. Born to a poor teenage girl. A young woman filled with undeserved grace.
And just like Mary, God sends us an angel with an unexpected invitation. An invitation to be loved just as you are. An invitation to be filled with incredible grace beyond our greatest expectation.
During this final week of Advent, I hope that you will join me in considering the ways we might offer that same kind of grace to people in our lives and world.
That through us, others may come to see themselves, like Mary, as favored by God. That, my friends, is the true meaning of Christmas. Amen.
--------------------------------------------
GOSPEL LESSON: Luke 1:26-38
In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth, to a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin’s name was Mary. And he came to her and said, “Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you.” But she was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be. The angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.” Mary said to the angel, “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” The angel said to her, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God. And now, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son; and this is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren. For nothing will be impossible with God.” Then Mary said, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” Then the angel departed from her.
But for me, having grown up Lutheran and attending a Lutheran college and seminary, it never quite felt like home. I missed the Lutheran liturgy and theology. And after my mother’s death, I started thinking about coming back.
I knew about this congregation in South Minneapolis that earlier that year had called a lesbian pastor. Our friend Tim was a member. So Charlie and I decided to join.
Their pastor Mary Albing had attended seminary with me, though I didn’t know her back then. She married another seminarian named Bob. Together they served parishes here in North Dakota and raised two children. Eventually Mary came out and got a divorce. She worked as a chaplain before being called by Lutheran Church of Christ the Redeemer as their first LGBTQ pastor. Called long before the ELCA voted to allow the ordination of people like us. Because of that, the Synod never recognized Mary’s call until after the 2009 vote. A white male bishop finally came to install her after she had served as pastor for seven years. Oh, the crazy things we church people do!
A couple years later, I went to Pastor Mary to talk about the idea of me seeking ordination. A difficult and painful and scary decision. A return to an unfulfilled dream from my youth. Mary helped me think about that and confirmed my sense of call. She told me I would make a great pastor. Mary was a model for me of how a queer individual can gracefully serve a congregation. Her encouragement relieved my fears. And helped me believe it was possible. If it weren’t for Mary, I might not be here today.
I was reminded of that conversation after reading today’s lesson from Luke, which presents a similar model for faithful service in response to God’s call. With another Mary. Mary the mother of Jesus.
And what’s significant in Luke’s Gospel is that Mary speaks. A lot. We hear about Mary in the Christmas narrative in Matthew, but Mary never says anything there. Her husband Joseph does all the talking. Does that sound familiar to anyone?
Here in Luke, Mary is spoken to and she talks back. In Luke, women speak a mere fifteen times. And only Mary gives a speech and significant responses here and later in the Magnificat (Luke 1:46-55). A lot of Christians—especially a lot of male believers and clergy—hold Mary up as a model for humble submission. A traditional role for women within the Church.
But I believe Mary is much more than that. For Mary transcended barriers most men never even think about. Social and religious and family obstacles for a poor, pregnant Jewish girl living in ancient Palestine under an oppressive Roman empire.
According to Luke, the angel Gabriel is sent by God to give a message to Mary. Not through her husband. Not through her father. Not through the male religious hierarchy. But directly to Mary. And Gabriel makes three main points (like in a PowerPoint presentation): (1) Gabriel tells Mary that she is favored by God; (2) Gabriel tells Mary not to be afraid; and (3) Gabriel tells Mary that nothing is impossible with God.
The angel Gabriel appears elsewhere in the Bible. In Hebrew scripture, Gabriel is a messenger who helps the prophet Daniel understand his visions and the calling of Israel within the drama of human history. Gabriel’s message to Daniel sounds a lot like what Mary hears: You are favored by God. Don’t be afraid. And God will do whatever possible to save God’s faithful people.
Gabriel also appears earlier in Luke’s Gospel. To Zechariah the priest, the husband of Elizabeth, in the Jerusalem temple. And the message is similar. God is coming to bless your wife. Don’t be afraid. For with God, nothing is impossible. With God’s bidding, even an elderly barren women can give birth to a new prophet, John the Baptist.
It’s interesting to note that in many stories of divine calls, God offers words of acceptance and assurance before the main message. Simple phrases like Gabriel’s words for Mary, “You have found favor with God.” In Greek, this word for “favor” is used only three times in the New Testament. It’s a passive verb describing the personal effect of something incredibly generous, done for you. Literally, it means “you have been filled with grace.”
The kind of grace sometimes experienced in our lives—like when arriving home during a blizzard and hearing your spouse or partner say, “Hey, look! Our driveway has been shoveled by our neighbor!” Or having a waiter in a restaurant explain, “The customer before you decided to ‘pay it forward,’ so your check is already taken care of.”
I believe that’s the kind of grace we need today. As the COVID pandemic continues to spread, with nearly 18 million cases and 300,000 deaths in our country. As grief shatters more hearts than reflected in daily statistics. As we all wonder how long we can keep this up—especially health care workers and those of us struggling with depression and anxiety and loneliness.
In the midst our current situation, the angel Gabriel comes to us to tell us that like Mary, you and I are favored by God. That each of us is a beloved creature, fearfully and wonderfully made. To speak the same words Gabriel spoke to Mary: “You are loved. Don’t be afraid. With God, you can go on.”
In the Bible, words of assurance like these have an intended purpose. They’re spoken to give comfort when the rhythms of everyday life are disrupted. To offer relief when a community is stressed beyond its resources. And to plant hope-filled seeds when the soil of our heart feels cold and barren.
I like to think that Mary probably was not an exceptional girl. Except perhaps that she dared to believe she had actually found favor with God. Not because of anything she had done or the kind of life she lived. But simply by God saying it was so.
That’s the definition of grace. The unmerited favor of God. Unconditional love given to the unworthy. Which is sometimes hard for us to accept and understand. As Bono, the lead singer of U2, once put it: “Grace defies reason and logic. Love interrupts… the consequences of your actions.”
That’s the kind of grace that interrupts our lives this Christmas. God as a baby. Born to a poor teenage girl. A young woman filled with undeserved grace.
And just like Mary, God sends us an angel with an unexpected invitation. An invitation to be loved just as you are. An invitation to be filled with incredible grace beyond our greatest expectation.
During this final week of Advent, I hope that you will join me in considering the ways we might offer that same kind of grace to people in our lives and world.
That through us, others may come to see themselves, like Mary, as favored by God. That, my friends, is the true meaning of Christmas. Amen.
--------------------------------------------
GOSPEL LESSON: Luke 1:26-38
In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth, to a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin’s name was Mary. And he came to her and said, “Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you.” But she was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be. The angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.” Mary said to the angel, “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” The angel said to her, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God. And now, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son; and this is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren. For nothing will be impossible with God.” Then Mary said, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” Then the angel departed from her.