You Are

For the first time in almost 9 years of ordained ministry I had to miss a Sunday because I was sick this month. The evening of Saturday, February 5, I just knew I had to make the call to get a "Plan B" going. Many thanks to Jody, Lynne, Lynn, Barb, and John who all stepped in in different ways. Many thanks to the congregation and the communion volunteers who were flexible as we delayed the celebration of the sacrament for one week.

I also want to thank my friend Julie, a PC(USA) pastor in the Milwaukee area who had already finished her sermon when I had not. Several of us "gather" on the internet to share our preaching thoughts throughout the week, so I knew we were thinking about the Scripture in very similar ways. When Julie posted her sermon on the internet I knew that it was right in line with where I was planning to go, but had not yet gone in writing. With her permission I borrowed generously from her sermon to prepare something quickly for Sunday morning so that I could just take my feverish self to bed. You can find her sermon at her blog You Win Some, You Learn Some. My version is below.

Thanks be to God for the compassion and connectivity of Christ's church!

Matthew 5:13-20

Jesus’ comparison took on a whole new meaning for a whole lot of the nation this week. Luckily most of the storm missed us completely, but for many other people south of us - - all the way south to Arlington, TX and beyond - - being called the salt of the earth probably strikes a bit of a chord. A number of those southern cities, Arlington, TX among them, were hurting without salt. Airports were closed. Streets were sheets of ice. Businesses lost money. A whole lot a headaches and one sports writers article titled “Why the Super Bowl should always be in a sunny city” could have be avoided with a nice stockpile of salt.

The first hearers of the Gospel of Matthew found themselves in the middle of a storm of their own. They weren’t bombarded with snow and ice, but they were caught up in a storm of a spiritual and political sort. The temple had just recently been destroyed. Jesus had not returned quite as quickly as everyone had anticipated. The city of Jerusalem was occupied by the Romans. Everything that stood for their life with God was completely gone. Even the Jewish community was turning against itself as different factions argued about the right way to respond to the Roman oppression, with submission or with force, with subversion or with protest.

Jesus knew in a way that only the Messiah can know that they and that we would need to hear these words in the storms of our lives. This whole Sermon on the Mount, that began with the declaration of blessings, the radical inclusion in God’s grace of all those who are usually excluded, this whole Sermon on the Mount somehow reassures us of God’s favor, reminds us that it is for others too, and challenges us to demonstrate it to the world. A preacher friend of mine likes to say that the Beatitudes that come right before our passage today can be summed up this way, “You are blessed. Act like it.”

His comparisons of us to salt of the earth and the light of the world does the exact same thing. Jesus doesn’t say, “If you do this, that, and the other thing, then you will be salt.” He doesn’t bargain with us, “I’ll give you a little light if you give me a little praise.” Jesus isn’t trying to convince his followers or beg them or bribe them into working on his behalf. He just declares it to us. “You are.”

Salt gets a pretty bad rap these days. Most of the time when we hear about salt when there ISN’T a big game in a not so sunny city we’re hearing about how bad it is for us. Salt will raise your blood pressure. Salt will dehydrate you. These things may be true some of the time for some people, but at the same time it is also completely true that none of us can live without salt. The human body needs salt to perform some of its most basic functions even down to the cellular level.

In Jesus time salt had other important functions. In addition to preserving food and serving as currency, salt was also a sign of a promise. People making an unbreakable covenant with one another would seal the promise with the exchange of salt. This is what Jesus says we are. “You ARE the sign of my never-ending covenant with the world.” Intimidating, right? And as if that wasn’t enough, Jesus goes on and throws another metaphor on top of that one, “You ARE the light of the world.” Most days we’re probably lucky to feel like the tiny candle on a birthday cake, but Jesus says we’re the light of the whole world!

The world doesn’t help us with our feelings of adequacy either. It seems like every time I turn around another study group is reporting the findings of their poll about the public’s opinion of Christians and the church. “Judgmental,” they call us. Even “hateful.” Close-minded, arrogant, hypocritical. Irrelevant. That seems to be the prevailing opinion of the church as expressed by those outside of the church. As we hear it over and over and over again, we run the risk of believing it. Like Matthew’s church who was reviled and persecuted, who was defamed and hated, we run the risk of resorting to acts of violence or just slipping underground and out of sight all together.

Hearing the world’s opinion of us over and over again, we run the risk of making it our opinion about ourselves, too.
We are right. They’re wrong.
We are saved. They aren’t.
We are in. They’re out.
And maybe worst of all, we don’t matter. They’re right.

But we do matter. We are relevant. Even when the world’s seemingly falling apart around us - - when the economy is tanking, and nations are in complete upheaval, and cancer is striking at all the wrong times - - even when everything seems to be crumbling all around Jesus has the gall to announce, “You are loved. You are blessed. Act like it.”

I read somewhere in an article on parenting that a child needs to hear ten positive messages to counteract one negative one. It’s a good thing Jesus gives us so many. Blessed are you the poor in spirit. Blessed are you who mourn. Blessed are the peacemakers. Blessed are the persecuted. Blessed are you. You ARE the salt of the earth. You ARE the light of the world.

We don’t need to work at it. We don’t need to strive for it. We don’t need to try to earn it. We ARE. You ARE because God put that never-ending covenant in you. God placed a light into each and every one of us. “You ARE because I am in you,” Jesus says.

A story has been told about a rabbi who was wandering through the forest one evening. As he was praying and walking along, he lost his way and found himself in front of a military base, where a guard brought him out of his reverie by shouting, "Who are you? What are you doing here?" The rabbi replied, "How much do they pay you?" "Why do you ask?" the guard wondered. "Because," said the rabbi, "I need someone to ask me those questions every day.”

Everyday we need to be reminded of who we are. Everyday we need to ask ourselves those questions or find someone who will ask them for us. Every day we need to answer “Who are you? What are you doing here?” and the answer comes straight from Jesus’ lips. You are the salt of the earth. You are the light of the world. You are blessed. Act it.

A striking image that has come out of Egypt in the last week has made its way around a number of news outlets. It sits perfectly and appropriately alongside one from less than a month ago, an image of Egyptian Muslims providing a human shield for Coptic Christians trying to attend mass under the threat of violence on their Christmas day. The picture this week was of Egyptian Christians providing that same shield from violence for their Muslim compatriots who stopped to pray in the middle of the protests and demonstrations in Cairo. Hands held hands in an outward facing circle as the faithful men bowed down on the ground in prayer.

When was the last time we were that kind of salt? When was the last time we provided that kind of light? That kind of love for others?

But it’s likely that those aren’t the only images we can muster up of salt and light in the world last week; we just weren’t looking for them. We just weren’t naming them that way. One preacher suggested early this week that we all keep “Salt Logs” for the next week, writing down the times we were recognized who we are, salt of the earth, light of the world, and what we’re doing here, sharing God’s love in Jesus with the world. I think if we did, we’d find plenty of evidence of the truth.

Beloved of God, you are the salt of the earth. You are the light of the world. Every good and perfect gift you need to make a difference has already been given to you. Carry your zest, your brilliance with you everywhere you go. Amen.

I hope she remembers

I wrote this reflection last Thursday when I got back from a wonderful experience of accompanying the choir as they sang to Dale Kramer. Dale died on Monday afternoon, May 17. "O merciful Savior, Acknowledge, we pray, a sheep of your own fold, a lamb of your own flock, a sinner of your own redeeming."

I hope Lillie remembers what she witnessed - - no - - what she was a part of this afternoon. I hope she remembers the body of Christ that piled into Dale's home on his 85th birthday and what will likely turn out to be one of his last days of earthly life. I hope she remembers the men and women who left work early today because sharing this time was more important than anything else they could have been doing, the ones who cancelled afternoon plans rather than miss out on this opportunity to share in the Spirit. I hope she remembers the birthday picture she colored for him.

I hope she remembers the great songs of faith that were sung, the words her 3 year old voice chimed in on about a half second after everyone else's sang them. I hope she remembers the harmony of voices, lifted up in prayer offered on behalf of a brother in Christ, offered for ourselves as we are already beginning to miss his regular presence among us. I hope she remembers that prayers don't have to be spoken in sentences by someone official to be prayers that are special to God. I hope she remembers the prayers of the notes mixing themselves together to provide familiar chords of comfort and honest mash-ups of dissonance. I hope she remembers the words - -
"Be still and know that I am God."
"Blessed Assurance! Jesus is mine!"
"Blest be the tie that binds"
"On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand"
"Take my hand, precious Lord, lead me home."

I even hope she remembers the tears that streamed down many faces that witness to the love of the people of God for one another, the pain we feel when we know we're losing someone, when we're turning him over to God's tender care. I hope she remembers the joy on the faces of his family, their gratitude, their thankfullness for his friends who came to bless him and them with the best gift they know how to give. I hope she remembers the way he lifted his shaky voice to shout down from the hospital bed set up in the loft, "God bless you!" and the way men and women shouted back to him, "God bless you, too!" "We love you, Dale!"

I hope she remembers, no matter what else she learns or witnesses of the Church in the rest of her life, no matter what debates she experiences, no matter what human failings are a part of our institution, no matter what bickering she may hear, I hope she remembers this hour of the beloved community doing exactly what God wants us to do - worshiping, loving, sharing, praying, comforting, and celebrating the life of a true saint of God.

I hope she remembers.

Carrying Each Other

Picture found here

Mark 2:1-12
I don’t know that I have that kind of strength. Just yesterday our family went on walk in Willow River State Park. I had enough trouble carrying a 30 pound 2 year old up the stairs to the north look-out. I can’t imagine carrying a full grown man on a mat anywhere. That must have taken some kind of strength.

He hadn’t moved on his own in we don’t know how long. Maybe it was a lifetime, maybe it just seemed like one, but he hadn’t been able to move himself off that mat in way – too – long. I’m sure his friends and his family thought they had exhausted all possible options. The priests couldn’t do anything. Sacrifices at the temple hadn’t changed his legs. Their prayers offered daily, twice a day, every time they saw him and wondered would this ever change, never seemed to make any difference at all.

His life had to have been unimaginably difficult. There weren’t wheelchairs to assist him. There wasn’t a desk job for him to turn to for work and pay. In fact, there was hardly a livelihood or a lifestyle in his rural experience of the ancient world that would accommodate his physical limitations. He couldn’t farm crops in the field. He couldn’t harvest olives from the trees. He couldn’t herd sheep in the pastures. Labor in a village or city was out of the question because he couldn’t move himself from jobsite to jobsite or even around a workshop. Other New Testament stories about men who were paralyzed shows them sitting at the gates of cities, waiting for handouts from anyone who might pass by on their way somewhere else.

The man’s need was obvious, but the solution was harder to realize. Really, he needed a miracle. He needed to walk, but even getting to the one who might provide that kind of healing seemed impossible. Although it was very early in Jesus’ ministry, word had already spread about the miracles he worked and the things he said. The friends of the paralyzed men knew that if he were to have ANY chance at all, he would have a chance with this Jesus. So they carried him. They carried him on his mat, out of his home, on the road, and right to the very house where Jesus was staying.

Only there was one problem when they got there, and a large problem at that. They could barely even get THERE, because of the countless others who got there first. The friends were not discouraged, or if they were, they rose above it. Literally. Seeing no other way to get their friend to the one thing he needed, they climbed up on the roof of the house and carried their friend up there with them.

A few years ago I first heard the story of Team Hoyt – a father and son, Dick and Rick Hoyt, who recently completed their 1,000th race together when they competed in the Boston Marathon this spring. I’m sure there are other father-son pairs who have raced together, maybe over 1,000 times, but there are very few who have done it the way Dick and Rick have done it more than 1,000 times since 1979.

Rick was born in 1962 and complications during his birth left him, according to his own description, a “spastic quadriplegic, cerebral palsy, non-speaking person.” Experts and specialists told his parents that he would never live a normal life, never be able to communicate with them, never understand what was going on around him. They advised the Hoyts to institutionalize their son for life.

To make a long yet inspirational story short, the Hoyts refused to take the doctors’ advice. They raised their son in their own home, and with persistence and the help of dedicated men and women along the way, they worked to develop computerized ways to communicate with their son. When the lines of communication were finally opened for him at age 10, instead of greeting his parents or brothers with his first words, out flowed evidence of Rick’s love for sports.

As a teenager Rick convinced his father to enter them both in a charity running race to benefit a local lacrosse player who had been paralyzed in an accident. As their website says, “Dick, far from being a long-distance runner, agreed to push Rick in his wheelchair. They finished next to last, but they felt they had achieved a triumph. That night, Dick remembers, ‘Rick told us he just didn’t feel handicapped when we were competing.’”

That first race met a need in Rick, the need to feel not handicapped, and it awoke a desire in him to experience that feeling as often as possible. Dick and Rick are sort of a modern day version of Mark’s story about the man on the mat. The need was obvious – Rick needed to feel included in the world that until then had been one experience of exclusion after another. And also like Mark’s story, the solution was much harder to realize, but not impossible. In fact, Dick, like the man’s friends in the gospel, very literally carried his son where he needed to go.

There are needs in the people, in the society, all around us. There are needs that hold each of us. Some of them are obvious. I would venture to guess that just about every one of us in this sanctuary knows someone who is struggling to find work or keep I, or we are those people ourselves. We know of people who wonder how they will pay for their next prescription, the doctor’s appointment they haven’t yet made, the bill for the hospitalization last month, or these worries keep us up at night, too. But we also know there are people who are gripped by needs that are less obvious – those who wrestle with depression or divorce, grief or addiction. We know people who need more education to reach their full potential, people who crave just a moment of rest and relaxation to save their sanity and their spirit.

We also know about the needs of the world beyond those we see on a regular basis. We know about the need for safe and fair elections around the world. We know about the need for equal opportunities for girls and boys, women and men, in education, employment, and status before the law. We know about the need for medical care in both rich and poor countries. We know about the need for peace in areas ravaged by war and terror.

We know there are needs in this world, but the solutions seem far beyond what we can imagine. That is unless we remember what we have read this day in the gospel according to Mark. That is unless we find in this account, the key to sustainable life in our local and global society.

The friends of the paralyzed man knew his need, and they carried him to the one who could meet it. They did EVERYTHING in their power, they worked to overcome every obstacle the faced, to meet the needs of the one whom they carried, to reach the source of the healing they sought.

The mark of the society that is sustainable, the mark of the society that will live on in a way that is beneficial both now and in the future, is a society which carries those in need to the places where they will find healing and wholeness. The sustainable society, the society that is affirmed and blessed and DESIRED by God, is the society where those who are sick are carried to places of healing, those who mourn are carried to comfort, those who are hungry are carried to food, those who live in fear are carried to peace, those who are oppressed are carried to freedom.

Since their first race in 1979, Dick and Rick Hoyt have competed together in 5Ks, 10Ks, half and full marathons. They have competed in 6 Ironman distance triathlons – that 2.5 miles of open water swimming, 112 miles of cycling, and 26.2 miles running – ALL IN ONE DAY. In 1992 they biked and ran across the entire Unites States, 3,735 miles in 45 consecutive days. In each of these races Dick pushed his son’s wheelchair, pedaled his bike while Rick sat in a seat pod on the front, or swam while towing his son in a raft attached to a headband.

It has never been easy. It has never been a walk in the park. But Dick carries his son where he needs to go. Dick carries his son to a place of wholeness, as 4 men carried their friend along the road, up to the roof top, and lowered him into the presence of Jesus, as we are called to carry those in need around us.

As people who proclaim faith in God whose creation is good, Jesus Christ who heals the sick, and the Holy Spirit who renews the world, how can we do any less? How can we do any less than see the need in the world around us, in the people sitting in the pews next to us, and in those we hear about in lands far away? How can we do any less than see their need, our need, and carry one another to sources of healing, restoration, and wholeness? The society that does this will be sustained for generations. The society that does this will be blessed.