FOURTH SUNDAY OF ADVENT

Isaiah 7:10-16

Psalm 80:1-7, 17-19

Romans 1:1-7

Matthew 1:18-25

Prayer of the Day: Stir up your power, Lord Christ, and come. With your abundant grace and might, free us from the sin that hinders our faith, that eagerly we may receive your promises, for you live and reign with the Father and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

“Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit.” Matthew 1:20.

The assertion that Jesus was “born of the virgin Mary,” has generated a great deal of controversy and consternation on many levels in recent decades, so much so that some Christian theologians and teachers have advocated abandoning it altogether. For example, the late Bishop John Shelby Spong declared in a lecture given in 2016 that the doctrine was “likely fictional and largely irrelevant.” The bishop’s focus was on ridding the church of “fundamentalism” which, in his view, had caused “a massive exodus of young people from the organized church into the secular city…” According to Rev. Spong, “Christianity needs to return to its Jewish roots.” That means ignoring parts of the gospel narrative, such as the “virgin birth,” which are gentile interpolations. See “John Shelby Spong Questions the Virgin Birth,” The Chautauquan, June 28, 2016.

I respectfully disagree with the bishop’s Jew/gentile dichotomy. Scholarship has shown that the Judaism of Jesus’ day was in constant dialogue with Greco-Roman religion and philosophy. Hebrew scriptures composed centuries before Jesus’ birth evidence profound Hellenistic influence. Moreover, the greater part of the Jewish population in the First Century was made up of the “diaspora,” Jewish communities located at various other parts of the Roman Empire. These largely Greek speaking Jews were exposed to and incorporated the thinking of their gentile neighbors and doubtless brought it with them on their visits to the holy city. Consequently, I am not convinced that the binary distinction between Jewish and gentile thought is a reliable hermeneutical method for understanding and preaching the New Testament. Rather than viewing Greco Roman thought as a contaminant poisoning the pristine waters of the Hebrew scriptural witness, I believe it is more helpful to view it as seasoning that deepens, enriches and expands biblical faith.

Moreover, while I heartly agree with Bishop Spong’s criticisms of fundamentalism, I do not believe it is responsible for the exodus from organized religion he accurately describes. My own ELCA, which has long rejected fundamentalist interpretations of the Bible, is hemorrhaging members as are other so-called progressive churches. There are numerous reasons for that, many of them having nothing to do with what the churches are preaching, teaching or singing on Sunday morning. But I believe one factor fueling the disinterest in church for young and old alike is our poverty of imagination and the absence of all capacity to entertain mystery. On this level, fundamentalism and much what passes for “progressive” Christianity are two peas in the same pod. The former binds the imagination to acceptance of finite doctrinal propositions that must not be questioned regardless how untenable they seem to reason and common sense. The latter binds the imagination by compressing it into the confines of rationalistic modernism where nothing that cannot be proven empirically gains admission. The numinous, spiritual and miraculous must 1) be expressed in terms that are rationally and empirically explicable; 2) reduced to metaphors or 3) dispensed with altogether. Both kinds of religion are, well, boring. Neither is worth giving up a Sunday morning with the Times, a good cup of coffee and a Jersey bagel with cream cheese.

I don’t believe we must settle for either of these two bland, white bread offerings. The last several decades have seen the sciences breaking out of the rationalistic straight jacket characterizing their formative years in the Nineteenth Century. We are beginning to understand that the so called “laws of nature” are simply observed patterns of regularity that are malleable, relative and subject to changing conditions. The many fields of physics employ as much intuition and exploratory reasoning as deduction from “hard data.” Biologists are discovering that the assumptions we have made over the last couple of centuries concerning human supremacy have colored and distorted our perceptions of the natural world. As a result, we are learning that consciousness, intelligence and self awareness are far more layered and complex than we assumed and that they pervade the biosphere of living things. Improved telescopic, microscopic and clinical methods are expanding both our knowledge of the universe and revealing how much more we have to learn. Increasingly, the questions of scientists are beginning to resemble those that have been posed for centuries by poets, storytellers, musicians, philosophers and theologians. There is, I believe, a turning away from simplistic binary thinking and a greater openness today toward mystery, spirit and the numinous in all disciplines.  

When it comes to biblical narratives like our gospel lesson for this Sunday, the tendency is to say either too much or not enough. Matthew tells us simply that Jesus’ conception is “from the Holy Spirit.” In the lengthy and monotonous genealogy preceding the story of Jesus’’ birth, we discover that the sacred line of the messiah runs through scandalous episodes of violence, incest, prostitution, adultery and seduction. The Spirit works not above but within the lives of flawed people with less than holy ambitions. Thus, the assurance that Mary’s child was “from the Holy Spirit” might have been cold comfort for Joseph. Yet Joseph is called upon to take Mary as his wife on the basis of this assurance. The most we can glean from the narrative is that Joseph accepts the angel’s assurance that there is more to Mary’s pregnancy than he is assuming. That’s not much to go on, but it was evidently enough.

The conception of Jesus was undoubtedly a miracle. That does not mean it was necessarily “supernatural,” though for all we know it might have been. I do not discount the occurrence of an event merely because I cannot explain its causation in terms of what I understand. Neither do I discount the miraculous nature of an event because I can easily explain its causation in such terms. Because I believe in a God who works in and through God’s creation in all of its manifold processes, some of which I understand and many of which I do not, understanding the mechanics of God’s works is not necessary. In the final analysis, I am not convinced I will ever get my head around the mystery of the Incarnation, of God’s becoming and remaining human in our midst. That is what our text is seeking to convey and what it challenges us, like Joseph, to trust. Faith may seek understanding, but it can also do without it.  

I have thought much about how to preach Jesus’ birth by the activity of the Holy Spirit.  I offer the following sermon, not as a model of homiletic excellence, but as an example of the directions my thinking has taken me. I need to explain that this is a “sermon” I preached at a Christmas Eve candlelight mass. I have discovered over the years that, by the evening of the night before Christmas, those who manage to get to church are generally exhausted, stressed and tired. They have not come for deep theological reflection or to struggle with titanic moral issues. They just want to sing the old Christmas carols, participate in the rhythms of the liturgy and unwind. Thus, rather than preaching a sermon, I customarily compose a short story touching on the biblical text. A sermon usually requires some effort to engage. A well told story picks you up and carries you along. Fictional narrative is not my home genre, but occasionally I dabble in it. So, for what it’s worth, here is my sermon/short story for Christmas Eve of 2016 on Sunday’s text.

**************************************************************

The rain was falling heavily that Christmas Eve, driven by fierce gusts down the empty streets of the little borough. It was the kind of rain that soaks you to the skin in a few minutes time, the kind of storm that blows first this direction, then that turning umbrellas inside out and rendering them useless. A sad, solitary figure in a drenched raincoat was making his way up the street to the one establishment with a light in the windows, the one place that appeared to be open. It was a bar-the small neighborhood type. He pulled open the door, stepped into the foyer and then into the bar itself. The place was nearly empty. The bartender was standing behind the bar drying some freshly washed glasses. There was a young kid, maybe in his twenties, sweeping the floors. He stood for a few minutes wondering whether the bar wasn’t actually closed and someone forgot to turn the sign around and lock the door.

          “You coming in or not?” asked the bartender. “If you’re going to stay and have a drink, I’d appreciate you’re hanging that coat on the rack to your right. Don’t need anyone falling on a wet floor. Nothing like a lawsuit to spoil the holidays.”

          The man nodded, hung up his coat, walked over and sat down at the bar.

          “What’ll it be?” asked the bartender.

          “What do you recommend,” the man replied a little hesitantly.

          “You don’t do much drinking, do you?” said the bartender.

          “Actually, very little. None to tell you the truth. I don’t even know why I’m here.”

          “Well,” said the bartender. “There are usually just two reasons for a man coming into a bar all by himself. He’s either broken up with a woman or looking to hook up with one. If you’re the hooking up kind, you’re out of luck as you can plainly see.”

          “I am out of luck alright,” the man replied. “But I’m not here to find a date. I’m in the break up category-and about that drink-guess I’ll just have a club soda, sir.”

          “You got it,” said the bartender. :And don’t be calling me ‘sir.’” I haven’t been called or called anyone ‘sir’ since my Army days. Didn’t like it then. Don’t like it now. My name’s Angelo-and you?”

          “I’m Joe.”

          “Well, Joe, sorry to hear about your break up. But maybe it’s all for the best. Like they say, there’s always more fish in the sea.”

          “Not like Mary” Joe replied. “She is one of a kind. They broke the mold when they made her.”

          “So who ended it-you or her?”

          “Well, I did. Or at least I am going to. It’s complicated.”

          Angelo laughed. “It’s always complicated, Joe. Show me a relationship that isn’t complicated! And boyfriend/girlfriend stuff-that really gets messy.”

          “It’s a little more than just boyfriend and girlfriend.” Said Joe. “Mary and I were engaged. Just yesterday, I would have told you that I’m the happiest man in the world. I found someone who is so kind, so honest and so strong-I didn’t know there were people like that in the world.”

          “So what happened overnight to spoil all of that?” asked Angelo.

          “Well,” said Joe, “last night Mary came over to my apartment to tell me she was pregnant.”

          “That’s it?” asked Angelo incredulously. “So what’s the big deal? Just move the wedding up a few months and nobody will be the wiser. Do you really think people sit and count down the months when they get a birth announcement? Shoot, they don’t even care anymore. In half the weddings I attend the bride and groom have their own kids being ring bearers and flower girls. This is the twenty-first century, Joe. Nobody is going to brand you two with a scarlet letter.”

          “This may be the twenty-first century,” said Joe. “But Mary and me, we are old school. We-ah-how shall I say. We don’t believe in doing it before marriage. And we didn’t. So…”

          “So the kid isn’t yours,” Angelo finished the sentence for him.

          “Yeh, that’s right,” said Joe.

          “Gee,” said Angelo. “That must have been hard to hear.”

          “Oh, you’re not kidding!” said Joe. “I was angry at first, then deeply hurt. I spent last night and most of today just walking around in the rain thinking about all this. But now I am more at peace with it. I look at it this way, Angelo: a person can’t help who she falls in love with. Maybe Mary never really did have the love for me that I had for her. Maybe I wasn’t right for her. Is it her fault that she didn’t find the man she truly loved until after she met me? Is it her fault that she felt caught between the promise she made to me and the pull of genuine love? And if you love someone, like I love Mary-you want them to be happy, right? You want what’s best for them, don’t you. So here is what I’m thinking I’ll do. We will just break things off mutually, tell our families and friends that we discovered we really weren’t meant for each other after all. That way, there’s no embarrassment, no judging or finger pointing. Mary can be with the man she loves, the kid can be with his true father-and me, well, I can get on with my life.”

          “Very generous of you, Joe” said Angelo. “A  lot of guys in your shoes wouldn’t be half so charitable.”  

          “Well, at least this way nobody gets hurt-I mean, not anymore than necessary. I want to do the right thing. And this is the right thing to do, isn’t it Angelo?”

          “How does Mary feel about it?” asked Angelo.

          “Well that’s what’s really strange about all this,” Joe replied. “Mary insists that she still loves me. She says that she would never betray me and that she has not been unfaithful to me. She wants to go through with the wedding. But of course, I know that can’t be true. I mean, she’s pregnant for crying out loud. You don’t get pregnant behind the  back of your husband to be without being unfaithful.”

          “Not as far as I know,” said Angelo. “So you think Mary is lying when she says she still loves you and wants to marry you?” Joe was silent for a moment.

          “Lying? Well not exactly. I wouldn’t put it that way. I mean, it isn’t like Mary to lie. She’s the most honest person I ever met. She always gave me the truth-even when I didn’t want to hear it. Now that I think about it, I can’t imagine her lying about anything-it’s not part of her makeup. It doesn’t seem possible.”

          “So,” said Angelo, “you believe her?”

          “Well of course not!” Joe snapped. “I mean, she is pregnant with a baby-and I know for a fact it’s not mine. Mary couldn’t have gotten pregnant without being unfaithful to me. You said so yourself.”

          “I didn’t say that,” said Angelo. “I said I didn’t see how that could happen as far as far as I know. But I don’t know everything. Fact is, I probably know next to nothing. My little life is just a splash in the pan over the life of the whole universe. Billions of years of stuff happened before I was born and billions more will probably happen after I’m gone. I don’t know a fraction of what it’s possible to know-let alone what can’t be known. I’m in no position to say something can’t happen just because I have never seen it before. Heck, I’ve never seen the Eifel Tower, but that doesn’t mean it’s not real.”

          “Come on, Angelo,” said Joe, “That’s not the same thing and you know it. We both have it on good authority that the Eifel Tower is standing in Paris. Nobody disputes that. But you’re asking me to believe something nobody has ever seen. You’re asking me to believe the impossible.”

          “Well,” said Angelo, “Seems to me you don’t have much choice about that. You’ve got two impossibles in front of you. You tell me it’s impossible for you to believe that Mary could be pregnant without having been unfaithful to you; but you told me a while ago that you find it impossible to believe that Mary could lie to you. Seems to me one of those two impossibles has to be possible. And you are going to have to figure out which impossible you are going to believe.”

          “I’d love to believe Mary,” said Joe. “I would love to be able simply to take her at her word. But Angelo, how do you explain the pregnancy? How am I supposed to make sense out of that?”

          “You need an explanation in order to believe?” Angelo laughed. “I believe a whole lot of things I can’t explain-and I bet you do too. Every day when I come into this place, the first thing I do is turn on the computer. I don’t know how it works. I just turn it on and expect it to do what I want it too. When it doesn’t, I call a teenage kid down the block to come over and take a look at it. In an hour or so, he has it working again. I don’t know what makes the computer work; I don’t know what makes it crash; and I sure don’t know what that kid does to get it up and running again. But I trust the science and mechanics that make that computer go, and I trust that kid who has the smarts to fix it. At the end of the day, it’s not what you understand, Joe, it’s who you trust. Trust is a matter of the heart. Your brain will only take you so far. After that, you have to listen to your heart. Most important decisions we make in life are made in the heart. That’s a fact. So what’s your heart telling you, Joe?”

          “My heart,” Joe replied, “tells me that Mary is trustworthy, that her love is true and that she would never do anything to hurt me. But that is contrary to everything I know.”

“Well,” said Angelo, “You have to make up your own mind. But me? I listen to the heart every time.”

Joe was silent for a long time. Then he looked up from his half-finished club soda and said, “Angelo, I think you just saved me from making the worst mistake of my life. I still don’t understand all of this. I have no idea how it will all work out. But I know I can trust Mary. I know her love for me is true. I know that our lives are bound together by something that is bigger than both of us. Together, I believe we will find our way-wherever that is.”

“Best of luck to both of you,” said Angelo. “And Merry Christmas!”

 “Merry Christmas Angelo-and thanks.”

          As Joe stepped back out onto the street closing the door behind him, Angelo turned to the young man who was now wiping down the tables. “Time to close up for the day, Gabriel. Our work here is done.

          Angels. They don’t always have wings. They don’t always shine like the sun and they don’t always have haloes. Angels are, after all, simply the messengers God sends into our lives to nudge us in the direction of the manger and the New Born King lying within. They point us in the direction of Jesus. They remind us that God has a hand in what is happening in our lives; that God’s creation, God’s purpose for us and God’s love is so much bigger than we can see and understand. They call us to listen to our hearts. So be attentive this Christmas season to the voice of the angels God is sending into your life to bring you back into friendship with Jesus and back into the orbit of God’s love.

          And may the peace of God which passes all understanding keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus in this holy season and always. Amen.   

THIRD SUNDAY OF ADVENT

Isaiah 35:1-10

Psalm 146:5-10

or Luke 1:46b-55

James 5:7-10

Matthew 11:2-11

Prayer of the Day: Stir up the wills of all who look to you, Lord God, and strengthen our faith in your coming, that, transformed by grace, we may walk in your way; through Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

“Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?” Matthew 11:3.

John’s question seems reasonable. Last Sunday we met John at the banks of the Jordan River. The crowds were gathered about him. Everyone from the religious elite to the women of the street were listening intently to his announcement that the reign of God had drawn nigh, that One was coming soon who would level the proud and powerful, raise up the lowly and oppressed and redeem Israel. From rich to poor, righteous to reprobate, everyone it seems was streaming toward John for baptism.  

That was then. This Sunday we find John languishing in prison. The one John took to be “the One” seems a long way from bringing about the earthshaking transformation he was expecting and what he promised to his audience. Quite understandably, John wants to know whether and when Jesus is going to deliver. Is Jesus simply waiting for the right moment to “make his move?” Or has John been cruelly deceived? Did John, like so many people before him and so many people since, fall for a charismatic and persuasive personality who is all spectacle and no substance? Is Jesus really the one? Or should John, in the short time he has left, start looking elsewhere?

Sometimes it seems the church is expressing the same doubt about Jesus. A lot of what passes for Christianity these days, high church, low church, left wing, right wing, and all categories in between has little to do with Jesus. Lest anyone imagine that I am throwing stones across ecclesiastical lines, let begin with an example from my own ELCA. Toward the end of my ministry, I was attending a workshop sponsored by my church focusing on ways toward spiritual renewal for our congregations. For an hour and a half we engaged in exercises designed to stimulate conversation, discussion and strategizing for church growth. Toward the end of the meeting, one of the facilitators asked if we had any questions or comments about this proposed program. I raised my hand and asked the facilitator whether she was aware that not once during the entire process did the name of Jesus come up and whether that was inadvertent or intentional. (I thought about adding that I was not sure which answer would be the more disturbing). She did not have much of an answer. Another facilitator finally spoke up and said in a decidedly irritated tone, “I don’t think it is necessary to invoke the Trinity after every single paragraph.” (For the record, I do not recall any references to God the Father or the Holy Spirit either.)

I also find it intriguing that so many Christian activists are pushing to post the Ten Commandments in our nation’s classrooms, but not a single one that I know of is pushing for a posting of the Beatitudes. Moreover, while condemning same sex relationships on the basis of Leviticus 20:13, many of these same folks ignore Leviticus 19:34 admonishing Israel, “You shall treat the stranger who sojourns with you as the native among you, and you shall love him as yourself, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt: I am the LORD your God.” The latter is the verse Jesus lifts up in his Parable of the Last Judgement and identifies as one of the two “Great Commandments.” Matthew 22:37-39.

Admittedly, Jesus does not fit well into the religion of empire, the role into which it has been cast first by Rome and subsequently by the parade of kingdoms and nation states that followed. A messiah who admonishes his disciples not to resist violence with violence does not square with regimes claiming the right to extinguish human life in the interests of justice and national security. Christian ministers in the United States struggled throughout the 19^th Century (and before) to find a doctrinal rationale for slavery. They found some ammunition in the Hebrew Scriptures where slavery, while subject to statutes insisting on the humanity of the enslaved and protecting their interests to some extent, nevertheless acknowledged slavery as part and parcel of the social order. These ministers also appealed to Saint Paul’s letter to Philomen where the apostle appears to acknowledge Philomen’s legal claim over his runaway enslaved servant, Onesimus. But references to Jesus in these arguments are noticeably absent.

Similarly, Jesus does not fit in well with our culture’s currents insisting on male dominance or their hostility toward feminism. That hostility has become increasingly evident under the current Trump regime that speaks directly to the fear and insecurity of men fearing the loss of their privilege. As I have noted previously, ground of uncontested manhood has been shrinking for decades and continues to disappear as women occupy more roles formerly monopolized by men. The role of the man as master of his household, protector of his spouse and uncontested ruler over his children no longer holds. Men find themselves in a world where brute strength is no longer met with awe, jokes that demean women are no longer funny and clever pickup lines no longer work. It is disorienting, to say the least and, to a large degree, threatening. When J.D. Vance ridicules “childless cat women” and complains that men find themselves unable to express themselves by telling a joke or holding the door for a woman, one cannot help but hear the frantic undertone of a disenfranchised man-boy crying “respect my penis, goddamit!”

Religious support for the reassertion of “traditional manhood” is not lacking. For  example, in a recent book

Rev. Zachary M. Garris, pastor of Bryce Avenue Presbyterian Church (PCA) in White Rock, New Mexico writes in his recent book:

“Christianity is a masculine religion. Men have authority, and as go the men, so go the women and children. Yet we are facing a crisis of masculinity in the church. Men have failed to lead, including our pastors, and now our women are acting like men and our men like women. To recover from this crisis of masculinity, we must start with God the Father. We must start with worship. Christianity has a masculine message of a husband who laid down His life for His bride. But we have an effeminate church preaching an effeminate gospel, proclaiming Jesus as Savior while ignoring His command for male rule in His kingdom.” Zachary M. Garris, Masculine Christianity.

There is no “command for male rule” from Jesus. Again, while proponents of “muscular, he-man” Christianity and the subordination of women can cite a number of biblical passages in support of their assertions (and conveniently ignoring others that do not), they seldom (if ever) make any reference to Jesus. That is not surprising. Jesus had no interest in male claims of ownership and control over women. Indeed, he made clear that no such inequality has any place in the reign of God (See Matthew 22:23-33; Mark 12:18-27; Luke 20:27-40). In all four gospels the Resurrected Christ commissioned women as the first preachers to proclaims his resurrection. In all four gospels women are often the most perceptive to Jesus’ preaching and teaching. He frequently points to women as exemplars of the faith often lacking in the Twelve. (Matthew 15:21-28; Mark 12:41-44; Mark 14:3-9). Nowhere does Jesus suggest that there is a divinely established gender hierarchy either in nature or in the reign of God he proclaims.

The bottom line here is that disciples of Jesus read the scriptures through the lens of his obedient life, faithful death and glorious resurrection. Jesus teaches us that the two greatest commandments are to “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength” and “to love your neighbor as yourself.” Mark 12:28-31; Matthew 22:34-40; Luke 10:25-28). On these commandments hang the interpretation of all the law and the prophets as far as disciples of Jesus are concerned. Matthew 7:12. Thus, if your reading of the Bible leads you to place your trust in anything less than the God and Father of Jesus Christ or instructs you to treat any person created in God’s image with less than empathy, compassion and good will, it is not a Christian reading of the Bible. Diversity, equity and inclusion are not the “woke” agenda of any political or religious group. They are just plain Jesus. If that gores your political ox, get yourself another politics or another savior.

So John’s question remains: Is Jesus the one? Or should we look for leaders who are more pragmatic, more result oriented and more prepared to employ any means to a noble end? Is the gentle, peaceful and faithful way of Jesus in a cruel and violent world the way to a new creation? Or should we listen instead to those who tell us that you cannot make an omelet without breaking a few eggs? That the burden of caring for the blind, the lame and the sick is too great a strain on the national budget? Is the Sermon on the Mount meant only for neighbors with nothing between them but white picket fences and ill suited for the rough and tumble life of business, politics and geopolitical conflicts? Or is the Sermon a template for the life Jesus actually lived in a hostile world that finally took the shape of the cross, the same life to which he calls his disciples?

Note well that Jesus does not give John a direct answer to his question. Instead, he instructs John’s messengers to tell John what they have seen: “the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, those with a skin disease are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me.” Matthew 11:5-6. That is where we need to look. We need to turn our gaze to the southern border where faithful disciples of all traditions and other people of good will are caring for, advocating on behalf of and supporting refugees caught in the hellish no man’s land of detention camp life. We need to look toward those churches that are fighting for the rights of medical access for transgender children who have become victims of our government’s ideology and policies of hatred. We need to look at communities of faith all over the world whose faithful work and witness are opening blind eyes, lifting up those who cannot stand on their own and bringing a measure of healing to the sick and abandoned. Some will take offense at this good work, insisting that it is wasted. Others might dismiss it as too little, too late and too ineffective to make any real difference. Disciples of Jesus recognize them as signs of God’s inbreaking reign, trickles of water leaking through the dam. Today they look small and inconsequential. But they are signs that the dam of oppression and injustice is cracking and destined to break and, when it does, there will be no stopping the ensuing flood.

Here is a poem by Laura Hershey giving voice to the blind, lame and sick, frequently seen as “social problems” in our culture, but for whom Jesus proclaims liberation, healing and “good news.” Blessed are those who take no offense.

Special Vans

Source: Laura Hershey: On the Life & Work of an American Master (Unsung Masters Series, 2019). Laura Ann Hershey (1962–2010) was a poet, journalist, feminist and a disability rights activist. Hershey was a leader of protests against the paternalistic attitudes and images of people with disabilities inherent to Jerry Lewis’s MDA Telethon. She was known to have parked her wheelchair in front of buses to bring attention to the rights of those labeled “disabled.” Hershey was a regular columnist for the Christopher and Dana Reeve Foundation. She published on her own website, Crip Commentary, and was published in a variety of other magazines and websites. Hershey was admired for her wit, her ability to structure strong arguments in the service of justice and her spirited refusal to let social responses to her spinal muscular atrophy define the parameters of her life. She was also the mother of an adopted daughter. You can read more about Laura Hersey and sample more of her poetry at the Poetry Foundation Website.

SECOND SUNDAY OF ADVENT

Isaiah 11:1-10

Psalm 72:1-7, 18-19

Romans 15:4-13

Matthew 3:1-12

Prayer of the Day: Stir up our hearts, Lord God, to prepare the way of your only Son. By his coming nurture our growth as people of repentance and peace; through Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

They will not hurt or destroy
    on all my holy mountain,
for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord
    as the waters cover the sea. Isaiah 11:9.

Once again, the scriptures declare unequivocally that the God of Israel is not the God of Israel alone, but the God of all the earth. Again, the scriptures make clear that God is fiercely committed to equity for all people and how God’s particular concern is for “the poor” and “the oppressed of the earth.” Faith in the Biblical God leaves no room for “American exceptionalism,” “Christian Nationalism” or any other quasi religious belief that legitimizes the supremacy of any nation, tribe, race or ethnic group. That white evangelical Protestants remain the most vital religious constituency of the Republican Party and six in ten of other white Christian denominations consistently vote for this party that mocks these divine priorities as “woke,” illustrates how poorly such purported Christians understand the Bible they love to thump, but evidently do not understand.[1] The religions of American mythology, capitalist ideology, idolization of firearms, worship of wealth and those able to accumulate it have altogether overshadowed the liberating word of the gospel and made that word difficult for us to hear.

Still, the word is being heard and proclaimed in our midst. The bishops of my own ELCA recently issued a letter reminding us that we live in a time injustice and oppression and that “People of color continue to bear the devastating weight of racism woven into the fabric of our society. Transgender people, beloved by God, are being targeted with laws and rhetoric that deny their dignity and even their right to exist. These assaults on our siblings are not political abstractions—they are deep wounds in the body of Christ.” The bishops go on to call upon clergy and congregations to

• Pray for those who are vulnerable and for all who work for justice.
• Advocate in your communities, legislatures, and Congress for laws that protect migrants, advance racial justice, and safeguard LGBTQIA+ people.
• Engage in the holy work of hospitality, creating spaces of safety, affirmation, and belonging for all God’s children.
• Model respectful dialogue in a polarized world, seeking understanding rooted in love.
• Hold fast to hope, trusting that the Spirit is still at work renewing creation and reconciling the world to God.[2]

On the ground, Accompanying Migrant Minors with Protection, Advocacy, Representation and Opportunities is working with congregations to advocate and provide sanctuary for migrants and refugees threatened by oppressive government deportation measures. In response to the Supreme Court’s recent decision upholding the right of states to deny medical treatment for transgender children, the Episcopal Diocese of West Tennessee and the Southeastern Synod of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America are advocating for policies protecting the rights and health care access of these children.[3] The Metro D.C. Synod, in concert with the ELCA’s Racial Equity Network, is facilitating the ministry of congregations in their work of furthering racial equity and justice by providing resources and opportunities for participation in this important work being done under the shadow of a regime committed to furthering the grip of white supremacy.[4] The Body of Christ is alive and well, albeit at the margins of society. Given what we know of the God we confess, we should not be surprised to find it there.

The prophet Isaiah’s vision of creation’s future is one of gentleness, equity and peace. It includes not merely humanity, but the whole terrestrial biosphere.

The wolf shall live with the lamb;
    the leopard shall lie down with the kid;
the calf and the lion will feedtogether,
    and a little child shall lead them.
The cow and the bear shall graze;
    their young shall lie down together;
    and the lion shall eat straw like the ox. Isaiah 11:6-7.

This “Peaceable Kingdom” is given expression in the above painting by Quaker artist, Edward Hicks. To our modernist ears, this looks and sounds surreal. Obviously, eliminating all predatory conduct in the animal world would result in ecological disaster. But neither these lines from the prophet nor Hicks’ painting were meant to be taken literally. They are rightly understood as poetic expressions of God’s desire for a world of ecological balance. It is a picture of God’s will “done on earth as in heaven.” In such a world, human beings take their place within creation, not over it. The realm of nature is not characterized as chaotic wilderness needing to be “tamed.” It is a place in which human animals live with all other animals, plants and the elements within their created limits. Unlike the ideology of capitalism, which views the world as a ball of resources to be exploited and despoiled of anything and everything that can be measured monetarily, the prophet understands the earth to be a living creature no less than the ones it hosts. Care for creation is the first command given to Adam at the dawn of creation. Genesis 2:15. The Bible is perhaps the greenest book ever written.

How does God bring such a world into being? Throughout human history, kingdoms have been established through conquest or violent revolution. At first blush, one might draw the conclusion that God’s reign will be similarly established. But a careful look at the text reveals the contrary. Isaiah announces that God’s messianic deliverer

“shall strike the earth with the rod of his mouth,
    and with the breath of his lips he shall kill the wicked.
Righteousness shall be the belt around his waist
    and faithfulness the belt around his loins.” Isaiah 11:4-5.  

To be sure, the messiah strikes the earth, but not with a weapon of war. He slays the wicked, but not with the sword. This messiah’s weapons are his “mouth” and “the breath of his lips.” God’s only weapon against evil is God’s word. By means of that word, God interrupts the normal course of history and society. By means of the word God breaks into the messy particulars of our lives, introducing alternative realities, unrecognized possibilities and new avenues of travel to undreamed of places. God’s word enabled the prophet Isaiah to imagine a world that shatters all of our assumptions about what is real, what is possible and what the future might hold. Ultimately, that word becomes flesh, shattering our understandings of power, glory and righteousness. It is a word that even death cannot erase.

Can a word do all of that? In his recent article, The Night the Universe Looked Back at Me, Professor Belden C.  Lane discusses the concept of “singularity,” a term he defines as follows: “The singularity, at the bare minimum, is an event unlike anything previously conceived. It makes thinkable what has never been imagined before.”[5] He goes on to say that “a singularity may be marked by a relatively small event that occasions massive change.”[6] It might, for example, be triggered by the birth of a baby to a homeless couple in a barn somewhere in the backwaters of the Roman Empire. The child saved from poverty, hunger and neglect by the generosity of a small church might be the one to find a cure for cancer. Professor Lane points out that a singularity appears as “an uncontrollable and irreversible leap into a new reality.” I cannot think of a better way to describe the effect of Jesus’ resurrection upon his startled disciples. Suddenly, it becomes apparent that the power of the empire is not absolute. Death is not the last word on human existence. Life does not have to be the way it has always been. This new reality threatens to “turn the world upside down.” Acts 17:6.

Advent is the season of expectation. In a cynical world where so many of us think we have “seen it all,” the church is a people that expects surprises, refuses to surrender to the status quo, does not buy into the assumptions that violence is necessary to bring peace, that poverty and starvation are sadly inevitable and that economies serving the wellbeing of all are impossible. Instead, we trust in the visions of God’s reign delivered to us by the prophets and the testimony of apostles to the resurrection of Jesus Christ. We believe in a world that is alive and filled with creatures longing for the day when “the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea.”

Here is a poem by Mary Oliver in which we glimpse the advent of God’s peaceable kingsom about which Isaiah sings and to which Edward Hicks gives graphic expression.

Almost a Conversation

Source: Devotions, (c. 2017 by N.W. Orchard, L.L.C.) p. 75. Mary Oliver (1935-2019) was born in Maple Heights, Ohio. She was deeply influenced by poet, Edna St. Vincent Millay. Her work received early critical attention with the 1983 publication of a collection of poems entitled American Primitive. She is a recipient of both the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry and the National Book Award. She spent the latter years of her life in Provincetown on Cape Cod, MA before moving to Florida where she died. Many of her poems reflect the unique features, vegetation and wildlife of the Cape. You can read more about Mary Oliver and sample some of her other poems at the Poetry Foundation Website.

Edward Hicks (1780 – 1849) was an American folk painter and distinguished Christian minister of the Society of Friends (a.k.a. “Quakers”). He is known for his depictions of the farms and landscapes of Pennsylvania and New York, and especially for his many versions (about 25 extant, perhaps 100 painted) of The Peaceable Kingdom, one of which is shown above. The works depict Hicks’s hope that Pennsylvania, founded by Quaker leader William Penn, would prove to be the fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecy of justice, gentleness and peace between all men and beasts.

[1] PRRI, November 8, 2024. As I have previously argued, the GOP more than qualifies as a “Hate Group” as defined by the Southern Poverty Law Center and should be designated as such. See Time to Declare the Republican Party a Hate Group.

[2] See Hope from a History of Failure?

[3] Episcopal News Service, June 2024.

[4] Faith in Action-Racial Equity Network

[5] “The Night the Universe Looked Back at Me,” The Christian Century, (December 2025),  p. 45.

[6] Ibid.

SUNDAY OF CHRIST THE KING

Jeremiah 23:1-6

Psalm 46

Colossians 1:11-20

Luke 23:33-43

Prayer of the Day: O God, our true life, to serve you is freedom, and to know you is unending joy. We worship you, we glorify you, we give thanks to you for your great glory. Abide with us, reign in us, and make this world into a fit habitation for your divine majesty, through Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

“…in [Christ Jesus] all things hold together.” Colossians 1:17.

This is a bold statement to make in these days when everything seems to be falling apart. Legal, political and religious norms for civil behavior have all but disintegrated in our own nation. A fierce climate of polarization has rendered our government unable to perform basic leadership tasks. The alliances, agreements and treaties that grew out of the post World War II generation are coming unraveled fast as the United States gravitates away from its historic role of world leadership. As our climate continues to turn once habitable areas inhospitable to human and non-human creatures, we might reasonably ask ourselves whether there is anyone holding things together.

There is a bumper sticker I have noticed from time to time that reads simply, “God is in Control.” The first time I saw that sticker was on the back of a pickup that was weaving precariously in front of me. My guess is that the driver was inebriated. I had to chuckle to myself as I finally managed to get out in front of that truck. “Glad someone is in control, because its obvious the driver isn’t,” I thought to myself. Yet on further reflection, I realize that this occurrence was not so funny. Over twelve thousand people were killed last year in alcohol related crashes. It seems that if God or anyone else is really in control, then they are either asleep at the switch or deeply sadistic. Objectively speaking, there seems to be no rhyme or reason for deaths and injuries to people caught in the crossfire of somebody else’s feud, injured or killed in devastating accidents or rendered homeless by natural disasters. It is simply luck of the draw.

People I have known who maintain that, despite appearances, God is in control tell me I must accept that God’s sovereignty is absolute. God’s goodness is a matter of faith. Though it may appear to our finite and limited minds that tragic events are random and meaningless, God has a higher purpose in bringing about or allowing them to occur. It is not for us to question the higher wisdom of God. We are to trust in God’s goodness notwithstanding evidence that much of what happens in this world is not consistent with what we understand to be the will of a loving and merciful God. But I find it hard to imagine what higher purpose could possibly be served by allowing a child to starve to death in Gaza or permitting a young mother with small children to be taken by cancer. If God objects to my asking such questions, God should not have made me so curious. Moreover, I wonder how far proponents of the “control” theory push their insistence on divine management. Does it extend into my personal life? Did I really decide to propose to my now wife? Or were we “destined to be”? Did I respond to God’s call to ministry? Or was I preordained? Does God determine which tie I wear on Sunday? Are all our choices illusory? Perhaps I am carrying this argument to ridiculous extremes, but if we are not to reduce ourselves to cogs in a relentlessly mechanized and deterministic universe, we need to acknowledge that, at some point, God’s control ends and our freedom begins. Where is the line drawn?

There is, however, a greater issue involved here. I have encountered enough controlling spouses, controlling parents and controlling pastors to know that “control” is not something you should be doing to people you love. If we believe, as the Bible asserts in numerous places, that “God is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love,” then I do not see how we can assert that God controls the world God made or the people living in it. It seems to me that control is the last thing God desires to do to us. In the opening line of Scripture, the first words God speaks are “Let there be…” Genesis 1:2. God makes space for something that is not God, something that exists which, though not independent of God, is nonetheless separate from God. The human creatures that inhabit God’s world have freedom and agency within their created limits. God gives them commandments and direction, but that only further illustrates their freedom. Human beings can break the commandments and resist God’s good and gracious desire for their wellbeing.

So in what sense do “all things hold together” in Christ Jesus? How does Christ exercise his reign over creation? The key, I believe, is in our gospel lesson in which Jesus prays for his tormenters, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” Luke 23:34. Jesus’ prayer reflects God’s expressed sentiments throughout Scripture. Though death was the consequence of Adam and Eve’s transgression, God did not inflict that upon them as a penalty. Instead, God clothed Adam and Eve in sending them out into the world. God would not take vengeance on Cain for Able’s murder, but instead put a protective mark on him to ensure no one else did. By contrast, human society became increasingly vengeful and violent. The first love song in biblical history celebrates the singer’s murderous vengeance upon one who assaulted him. Genesis 4:23-24. The world became so consumed with violence that God resolved to make an end of it. Genesis 6:5-7. Yet in the midst of dismantling creation, God reversed course. Genesis 8:1-5. After the waters receded and life on earth began anew, God solemnly promised, “I will never again curse the ground because of humans, for the inclination of the human heart is evil from youth; nor will I ever again destroy every living creature as I have done.

As long as the earth endures,
    seedtime and harvest, cold and heat,
summer and winter, day and night
    shall not cease.” Genesis 8:21-22.

However much evil the human race might do, God will not respond in kind. As the centuries pass, God’s patience is repeatedly tried by a violent world and God’s people Israel who are all too prone to adopt the ways of that world rather than to “choose life” by living faithfully under their covenant with God. Yet God’s mercy always prevails in the end. The ultimate test comes with the world’s response to the best God had to give-the only begotten Son, God’s very self. Rather than avenge the murder of Jesus-God raised him up and offered him back to the people who rejected him, the world that killed him and the disciples who abandoned him. God’s power is God’s patience, God’s mercy, God’s love. God’s compassion cannot be extinguished by the worst of human conduct. Regardless of what we do, God will be God and God is love.

Is love enough to hold our planet together against all the forces of human greed, violence and exploitation? Yes, it is according to Saint Paul who tells us that love is eternal. I Corinthians 13:13. To be clear, this love is not emotional affection. It is an undying commitment to the wellbeing of another. Love is the glue that holds the Trinity in unity. Love is what molds the church, however imperfectly, into the Body of Christ. Because I believe all this, I believe that, yes, the love of God in Christ Jesus is strong enough heal the wounds inflicted upon this planet and its inhabitants by God’s human creatures. I believe that the patience of God is persistent enough to continue working toward redeeming, restoring and perfecting creation for as long as that might take. I believe that hatred, greed and violence, as destructive as these surely are, cannot outlast God’s love.

Control seems like a simple solution to the chaos of evil. I think that is why we are so susceptible to the promises of “strong men” who insist that they are “the one,” the person capable of imposing law and order, increasing wealth and prosperity, returning the world to a “golden age.” We are tempted to believe it takes a powerful, “take charge” individual who isn’t afraid to take severe measures to make things right. But we have learned, or should have learned by now, that leaders who exercise their leadership by asserting control always end up inflicting more grief than they remedy. The world does not need more leaders like that. It does not need a god like that. Thankfully, the God we worship does not rule the world by controlling it. We worship a God that loves the hell out of it.

Here is a very simple poem by Mechtild of Magdeburg expressing the nature of God’s love in Christ that holds all things together.

How God Answers the Soul

Source: Beguine Spirituality, (c 1989 by The Crossroad Publishing Company, Inc.) Mechtild of Magdeburg was a Christian medieval mystic, whose book Das fließende Licht der Gottheit (The Flowing Light of Divinity) is a compendium of visions, prayers, dialogues and mystical accounts. She was the first mystic to write in Low German. Biographical information about Mechthild is scarce. We know that she was born into a noble Saxon family. She had her first vision of the Holy Spirit at the age of twelve. In 1230 she left her home to become a Beguine at Magdeburg.  There she became acquainted with the Dominicans. Her criticism of church dignitaries and her claims to theological insight aroused so much opposition that some called for the burning of her writings. With advancing age she became blind. Sometime  around 1272 she joined the Cistercian nunnery at Helfta which offered her protection and support in the final years of her life. You can read more about Mechtild of Magdeburg and sample more of her poetry at the Poetry Foundation website.

TWENTY-SECOND SUNDAY AFTER PENTECOST

Job 19:23-27a

Psalm 17:1-9

2 Thessalonians 2:1-5, 13-17

Luke 20:27-38

Prayer of the Day: O God, our eternal redeemer, by the presence of your Spirit you renew and direct our hearts. Keep always in our mind the end of all things and the day of judgment. Inspire us for a holy life here, and bring us to the joy of the resurrection, through Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord.

 “Those who belong to this age marry and are given in marriage,but those who are considered worthy of a place in that age and in the resurrection from the dead neither marry nor are given in marriage.” Luke 20:34-35.

The Sadducees’ question is a man’s question posed by men, to men in a man’s world. A woman has been passed on like a piece of furniture from brother to brother as each died. Now at the resurrection, we have a legal problem. To whom does this woman belong? Who has “rights” to her body and soul? Nowhere is there any consideration about what the woman might prefer or who, if any, of these brothers she might want to be with. This dispute is over the conflicting claims between men. The Sadducees cannot imagine a future in which a man’s legal claim on a woman cannot be fairly adjudicated; hence, their skepticism over the resurrection. Jesus responds that their unbelief in the resurrection of the dead is a result of their failure to grasp the power of God. The radical equity among all people under God’s reign supersedes every human claim of ownership or dominion. There is no room in God’s kingdom for hierarchy or patriarchy, even when clothed in the sanctified dress of institutional marriage.    

Marriage is, after all, a human institution that is very much of this world. Its shape and meaning have varied over time and between cultures. The Bible does not say otherwise. The often miscited passage from the second chapter of Genesis does not say that God instituted marriage. Rather, it tells us God, having determined that “it is not good” for the human creature to be alone, created a partner for this first human being. Thus, God is the author of human intimacy. The phenomenon of marriage, in all of its manifestations, is a human response to God’s creative act. Like all human institutions, marriage is as flawed as is human nature. Like government, church and family more generally, it can be a protective structure in which human intimacy, growth and development are nurtured. But it is also true that marriage, like these other institutions, can become a theater of oppression, exploitation and abuse. The practice of treating a woman as a mere piece of property represents the latter.

Neither marriage nor any other human institution is ever an end in itself. Even the Sabbath, a practice which truly is biblically grounded in a command of God, exists to further human wellbeing. When used in ways that diminish human thriving, the sabbath too, becomes an instrument of human oppression, defeating its own purpose. Jesus’ response to the Sadducees therefore goes beyond the scope of their hypothetical. He calls into question the premise of their inquiry. Claims of ownership, dominion or dominance by any individual or group over other individuals or groups have no standing under the reign of God. There, people “neither marry nor are given in marriage.” This is not to disparage marriage per se. It is only to say that marriage is not to be an instrument of hierarchy, patriarchy or any other species of domination. Under the reign of God, marriage must serve the objective of mutuality if it is to exist at all. To that point, Saint Paul likens marriage to the relationship between Christ and his church. Jesus reigns over his disciples by washing their feet and laying down his life for them. His disciples are led by the one most ready to serve.[1] It is because the Sadducees cannot conceive of such a radically equitable existence that they are unable to believe in the resurrection.

All that being said, there are numerous questions about resurrection and eternal life that are troubling for many of us. What about the broken relationships, unhealed wounds and regrets one inevitably carries to the grave? How can eternal life be blessed if we bring all that baggage with us? What happens to painful memories? Are they simply erased? Is it not the case that our greatest hardships, griefs and failures turn out to be the events that shape us into who we are? Who and what are we if all of that is washed away? And what about the character flaws, irritating habits and biases that are, however regrettably, part of our identity? If all of that were simply sheared away, would we be the same persons? Would we be recognizable to others we have known or even ourselves? Will questions like this even matter in the new creation?

Jesus does not give us a definitive answer. He only tells us that the resurrected are “like angels in heaven.” Given what little the Bible tells us about angels, that is not particularly helpful. Saint Paul tells the church in Corinth that such questions about post-resurrection life are stupid-and then goes on to answer them after a fashion:

“But someone will ask, “How are the dead raised? With what kind of body do they come?” Fool! What you sow does not come to life unless it dies. And as for what you sow, you do not sow the body that is to be but a bare seed, perhaps of wheat or of some other grain. But God gives it a body as he has chosen and to each kind of seed its own body.” I Corinthians 15:35-38.

The analogy makes clear that the “spiritual body”[2] to be raised up from the “physical body” is as qualitatively different as is the full grown plant from the “bare seed.” While there is surely continuity of identity, there is exponential growth and development that cannot yet be seen in the seed upon planting. As the Apostle John puts it, “Beloved, we are God’s children now; what we will be has not yet been revealed. What we do know is this: when he is revealed, we will be like him, for we will see him as he is.” I John 3:2. The final word belongs to Jesus: “[God] is God not of the dead but of the living, for to him all of them are alive.” Luke 20:38. In some way too marvelous to be contained within our wildest imaginings, God weaves the lives of the saints into the fabric of God’s new creation, preserving the wealth of our relationships, works of kindness and acts of faithfulness and courage, assuring us that what we know of God’s reign only in part will become clear at the Resurrection of the dead and in the life of the world to come. That might not be all we would like to know. But it is enough.

Here is a poem by May Swenson reflecting the often suffocating environment of patriarchy experienced by women today and which Jesus roundly rejected as inconsistent with God’s reign in his own time.

Women

Women                                 Or they

   should be                              should be

      pedestals                              little horses

         moving                                 those wooden

            pedestals                              sweet

               moving                                 oldfashioned

                  to the                                    painted

                     motions                                 rocking

                        of men                                  horses

                        the gladdest things in the toyroom

                           The                                       feelingly

                        pegs                                     and then

                     of their                                 unfeelingly

                  ears                                     To be

               so familiar                            joyfully

            and dear                               ridden

         to the trusting                      rockingly

      fists                                    ridden until

   To be chafed                        the restored

egos dismount and the legs stride away

Immobile                            willing

   sweetlipped                         to be set

      sturdy                                 into motion

         and smiling                         Women

            women                                 should be

               should always                        pedestals

                  be waiting                              to men

Source: New and Selected Things Taking Place (Pub. by Boston: Atlantic/Little Brown, 1978; c. 1978 by May Swenson.) Anna Thilda May Swenson (1913 –1989) was an American poet and playwright. Born to Margaret and Dan Arthur Swenson, she was the eldest of ten children in a Mormon household where Swedish was spoken regularly and English was a second language. Although her family struggled to accept that she was a lesbian, they remained close throughout her life. Much of her later poetry was devoted to children. She also translated the work of contemporary Swedish poets, including the selected poems of Nobel laureate Tomas Tranströmer.

Swenson attended Utah State University in Logan, Utah, graduating in 1934 with a bachelor’s degree. She taught poetry as poet-in-residence at Bryn Mawr College, the University of North Carolina at Greensboro, the University of California, Riverside, Purdue University, and Utah State University. From 1959 to 1966 she worked as a manuscript reviewer at New Directions Publishing. Swenson left New Directions Press in 1966 to focus more on her writing. She served as a chancellor of the Academy of American Poets from 1980 until her death. You can read more about May Swenson and sample more of her poems at the Poetry Foundation website.  

[1] The most explicit portrayal of this image is in Paul’s letter to the church to the Ephesians. Some have been critical of Paul’s reference to the man as the “head” of the wife and his admonition for her to “submit” to him. While understandable, I think we need to look beyond these stereotypical gender roles that influenced Paul’s writing to the larger point. Jesus leads by persuasion and example, never domination. One could therefore switch the roles such that the text reads, “husbands, submit to your wives” and “wives, love your husbands” without doing any violence to its meaning. Paul is simply stating a variation of Jesus’ admonition that, as he has washed his disciples’ feet, so they should wash one another’s feet. John 13:12-14.  

[2] The term “spiritual body” seems contradictory only if one subscribes to the dualistic assumption that “spirit” and “matter” are separable and distinct. No such binary thinking is native to Hebrew thought. To be “spiritual” is not to transcend the material world, but to be oriented toward God and the work of God’s Spirit in the world. The new creation is therefore not a realm of “pure spirit,” as though such a thing could even exist. It is rather a material world wholly oriented toward its Creator. It is God’s will done “on earth as it is in heaven.”

ALL SAINTS SUNDAY

Daniel 7:1-3, 15-18

Psalm 149

Ephesians 1:11-23

Luke 6:20-31

Prayer of the Day: Almighty God, you have knit your people together in one communion in the mystical body of your Son, Jesus Christ our Lord. Grant us grace to follow your blessed saints in lives of faith and commitment, and to know the inexpressible joys you have prepared for those who love you, through Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

^“God put this power to work in Christ when he raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly places, far above all rule and authority and power and dominion and above every name that is named, not only in this age but also in the age to come. And he has put all things under his feet and has made him the head over all things for the church, which is his body, the fullness of him who fills all in all.” Ephesians 1:20-23.

The “power” of which Saint Paul speaks, the power that raised Jesus from death is love. God’s power is God’s refusal to be drawn into the vortex of retribution that has drawn humanity into orgies of bloodshed since the dawn of time. God loves the world, even when it goes off the rails. God loves the world, all of it. God loves the arctic regions newly opened to the fossil fuel industry crying, “Drill, baby, drill” with the rapist’s grin on their faces. God loves rivers choked with industrial sludge, lakes dead from acid rains and oceans plagued with floating islands of plastic. God loves animals and plants on the brink of extinction whose preservation is deemed economically unfeasible. And God loves God’s human creatures responsible for so much of this planet’s misery, creatures who, when offered the most precious gift God had to give, nailed him to a cross. In response to the crucifixion of Jesus, God did not retaliate. Instead, God raised up the crucified and rejected Son and offered him back to the same creatures that rejected him. Vengeance, wrath and retaliation are not God’s way. Neither are they the way of Jesus’ disciples.

Our gospel lesson for All Saints Sunday spells out with unmistakable clarity what sainthood looks like. Jesus calls upon his disciples to exercise the same love for their enemies God exercises toward the world that rejected the Son. “But I say to you who are listening: Love your enemies; do good to those who hate you; bless those who curse you; pray for those who mistreat you. If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also, and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt.” Luke 6:27-29. The way of Jesus reflecting the power of God does not look anything like power as we understand it. Mao Tse Tung once said that “All political power comes from the barrel of a gun.” That is not far from the American Marvel Comic book mythology animating so much of our thinking about conflict and the way it must be resolved. It underlies the uniquely American gun fetish and a growing conviction on the part of so many that our fellow citizens are all potentially hostile, our neighbors cannot be trusted and our government and laws are incapable of protecting us.  

In their recent book, The Myth of the American Superhero,[1] John Shelton Lawrence and Robert Jewett argue that, in a culture that doubts the integrity and ability of its government and institutions to achieve justice, people are naturally drawn to the uniquely American “monomyth.” This “monomyth” supplies the underlying plot for stories about heroes who must take the law into their own hands in order to rid a community of evil. The world of entertainment is laced with such monomythic tales. We find them in the oldest black and white westerns that feature a virtuous gunslinger riding into town to rid the populace of a criminal gang neither the law nor the courts can handle. The same basic plot can be found in such productions as the Star Wars movies in which “jedi knights” with superhuman powers and a code of law all their own rise up to destroy an evil empire that has usurped the powers of the old republic. The most insidious element of this myth is the unspoken and unquestioned assumption that, when all is said and done, evil can only be eliminated by violence.

That assumption shapes the prevailing understanding of God in much of American religion. The god we meet in much of white evangelical religion is an angry, controlling and violent tyrant with an anal preoccupation with sex. This is a god who damns to hell a loving same sex couple while blessing a politician who works to deprive millions of needed healthcare. This is a god who cares more about his picayune rules than about the people he supposedly created. Because this god is toxically male, it comes as no surprise that he wants men to be in charge and women to submit. For the god of American evangelicalism, the cross is not sufficient. This god must come back at the end of time with military like fire power to beat the world into submission in a final cosmic battle. This is a violent god that appeals to violent people. As the poet remarks, “Give us burly gods to pummel the world and us.” I do not know whether people become mean, bigoted and hard hearted because they worship such a god or whether the god they worship is merely a reflection of their own hateful souls. Either way, this god is not the God and Father of Jesus Christ we meet in our lessons for this Sunday.  

In a culture with such a distorted understanding of who God is and that is spiraling ever deeper into violence, in a culture where mass shootings are weekly occurrences, civil war rhetoric is becoming mainstream and law enforcement increasingly unrestrained by legal limits, I believe sainthood must take the shape of radical pacifism. Our bishops need to be saying with clarity that no disciple of Jesus has any business owning or carrying a weapon, the one exception being those serving in the military or law enforcement.[2] We need to ensure that our sanctuaries, offices and events are weapon free zones. Our churches need to be challenging police violence, use of the military against our citizens and using the “war on drugs” as a pretext for military attacks on unarmed foreign ships in international waters. More than this, we need to be prepared to practice hospitality and offer sanctuary to victims of our government’s violent and ruthless immigration policies. That might place us in legal jeopardy-or worse. But love that is grounded in the love of our God who put the life of the Son on the line requires nothing less.  

Here is a poem by Father Daniel Berrigan with an expression of such faith and the difficulty of hanging onto it.

Astonishment

Source: Selected & New Poems, (c. 1973 by Daniel Berrigan, pub. by Doubleday & Company, Inc.) pp. 133-134. Daniel Berrigan was born May 9, 1921, in Virginia, Minnesota. He entered the Jesuit novitiate at St. Andrew-on-the-Hudson, New York in August 1939 and graduated in 1946. Thereafter, he entered the Jesuit’s Woodstock College in Baltimore graduating in 1952. He was ordained the same year and appointed professor of New Testament studies at Le Moyne College in Syracuse in 1957. Berrigan is remembered by most people for his anti-war activities during the Vietnam era. He spent two years in prison for destroying draft records, damaging nuclear warheads and leading other acts of civil disobedience. He also joined with other prominent religious figures like Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, the Rev. Richard John Neuhaus and the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. to found Clergy and Laity Against the War in Vietnam. In February of 1968 he traveled to North Vietnam and returned with three American prisoners of war he convinced the North Vietnamese to release. Berrigan died on April 30, 2016 of natural causes at a Jesuit health care facility in the Bronx. He was 94 years old.

[1] Lawrence, John Shelton and Jewett, Robert, The Myth of the American Superhero (c. 2002 Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co.)

[2] This is in accordance with the “Just War” doctrine held by most orthodox churches. I have long expressed my doubts about this particular teaching which I believe to be contrary to the gospel. I would welcome serious dialogue within the church concerning its legitimacy. That being said, the church would do well in standing by the doctrine’s insistence that pacifism is the default position of Christians in face of the American assumption that gun ownership and the use of guns for self defense is a sacred right.   

TWENTIETH SUNDAY AFTER PENTECOST

Jeremiah 14:7-10, 19-22

Psalm 84:1-7

2 Timothy 4:6-8, 16-18

Luke 18:9-14

Prayer of the Day: Holy God, our righteous judge, daily your mercy surprises us with everlasting forgiveness. Strengthen our hope in you, and grant that all the peoples of the earth may find their glory in you, through Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord.

“Have you completely rejected Judah?
    Does your heart loathe Zion?” Jeremiah 14:19.

Jeremiah has good reason to wonder whether God might finally have given up on Judah and Israel. He witnessed the demise of the brief revival of his nation under King Josiah following the monarch’s untimely death. He witnessed the destruction of Jerusalem, the burning of its temple and the exile of so many of his fellow Judeans. Jeremiah was also acutely aware of his nation’s unfaithfulness to God’s covenants with it. He saw its kings routinely disregard protections for the poor written into the Torah. He saw Judah and its leaders repeatedly put their hope for survival on alliances with imperial powers and their gods at the price of crushing tribute falling chiefly on the backs of those least able to bear its weight. Jeremiah had every reason to suspect that, by now, God had had enough. He had every reason to believe that the people of Israel would henceforth be on their own.

But Jeremiah could not give in to this terrible fear, however plausible it might have been. Note well that his words are not those of a despondent cynic sitting alone on a park bench muttering to the wind. Neither is he speaking to some nameless, faceless deity on grounds of divine justice-as though it were self evident that God, if such a being really exists, owes him an ordered, just and predictable universe. Jeremiah’s words are addressed to the God of his people Israel, the God of the covenant. Under the terms of that covenant, God made specific promises to Israel. Though Israel may have been less than faithful in its own covenant responsibilities, God is not thereby excused from God’s obligations. Jeremiah knows that his God cannot renege on the covenant promises. That is not because of any limitation on God’s divine power. God cannot abandon Israel because God’s essential nature is faithfulness. If God were to break God’s promises to Israel, God would not be the God that God has always revealed God’s self to be. God must honor the covenant promises in order to be true to God’s self. Therefore, Jeremiah can pray with confidence,

“Do not spurn us, for your name’s sake;
    do not dishonor your glorious throne;
    remember and do not break your covenant with us.” Jeremiah 14:21.

I find that immensely comforting. As much as I love the church, I have been deeply wounded by it, disappointed in it, frustrated with its shortsightedness, enraged at its timidity in the face of evil, its blindness to the suffering on its doorstep and its indifference to the cries for justice, mercy and peace from the world around it. There are times that I, too, wonder whether God is ready to give up on a church that often looks little like Jesus, whose Body it is supposed to be. As I have witnessed the decline of the church in this country over the decades of my life, I have wondered at times whether we are experiencing God’s judgment on our many failures. Perhaps God is washing God’s hands of the whole ecclesiastical project.

Still, however tempted I might be to give up on the church, I find it impossible to give up on my baptismal covenant which, whether I like it or not, binds me to the church. During those times in my life when the covenant seemed most frayed and likely to break, there has always been some saint whose witness convinced me to remain. At times when church life seemed most petty, mean and shallow, there was always some event, some small expression of kindness, courage and faith that caused me to doubt my doubts about the presence of Jesus in his church. So, like Jeremiah, I cling to the covenant for dear life, because I know deep down that there is no life for me outside of it.

This month, the Spirit gave me one of those rare faith saving assurances. It came in the form of a letter from the bishops of my Evangelical Lutheran Church in America to the church:

Beloved in Christ,

Grace and peace to you in the name of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

As bishops of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA), we write to you in this moment of national and global tension with clarity and conviction. Our faith compels us to stand where Jesus stands—with and for those whom society often seeks to exclude, erase, or diminish.

Our shared confession that every person is created in the image of God (Genesis 1:27) grounds us in the conviction that all people possess inherent dignity. The incarnation of Jesus Christ reveals God’s profound solidarity with humanity—especially with those who are marginalized or oppressed. The gospel we proclaim insists that our neighbor’s need is the occasion for our love and that our public life is shaped by justice, mercy, and a commitment to the common good.

Further, we have a shared tradition in our social teachings which grounds us. The ELCA’s Social Message on Immigration reminds us:

“We are to respond to newcomers as we would to Christ—welcoming them, meeting their immediate needs, and advocating for justice in our laws and policies.”

Likewise, our recently adopted Social Statement, Faith and Civic Life, affirms that Christians are called to be “a public witness, holding leaders accountable when they fail to protect the vulnerable.”

We are living through a time when vulnerable communities are being scapegoated and attacked. Immigrants and refugees are vilified, though Scripture commands us to welcome the stranger. People of color continue to bear the devastating weight of racism woven into the fabric of our society. Transgender people, beloved by God, are being targeted with laws and rhetoric that deny their dignity and even their right to exist. These assaults on our siblings are not political abstractions—they are deep wounds in the body of Christ.

In this time of division and fear, we, as people grounded in our faith, insist on love. This commitment flows from our faith in Christ crucified and risen—the One whose love breaks down barriers, confronts hatred, and transforms hearts.

Love insists on the dignity of every human being.

Love insists on justice for the marginalized and oppressed.

Love insists that the church must reflect God’s diverse, life-giving community. Love insists that we listen, speak, and act with respect, even in disagreement. Love insists on hope, trusting that God’s kingdom of justice and peace will prevail.

This love also compels us to speak clearly against Christian Nationalism, which our Churchwide Assembly named as a distortion of the Christian faith and an unhealthy form of patriotism. Christian Nationalism confuses the Gospel with political power, turns God into a mascot for the state, and privileges some people over others based on race, religion, or birthplace. This is not the way of Jesus. The kingdom of God is not a nation, not a culture, not a political ideology—it is God’s reign of love, justice, and mercy for all people.

Therefore, as bishops of this church, we declare that the ELCA cannot be silent. Our call is clear:

• To proclaim the God-given dignity of every human being.
• To resist systems and ideologies, including Christian Nationalism, that oppress, dehumanize, or erase.
• To stand shoulder to shoulder with those who are targeted or harmed.
• To bear public witness that the love of Christ is stronger than fear, stronger than hatred, and stronger than death.

We call on all members of the ELCA to join us in prayer, advocacy, and action:

• Pray for those who are vulnerable and for all who work for justice.
• Advocate in your communities, legislatures, and Congress for laws that protect migrants, advance racial justice, and safeguard LGBTQIA+ people.
• Engage in the holy work of hospitality, creating spaces of safety, affirmation, and belonging for all God’s children.
• Model respectful dialogue in a polarized world, seeking understanding rooted in love.
• Hold fast to hope, trusting that the Spirit is still at work renewing creation and reconciling the world to God.

In baptism, we are marked with the cross of Christ forever. That cross is not only a sign of our hope—it is also a summons to follow Jesus into solidarity with those who suffer.

In the power of the Spirit, let us be bold. Let us be faithful. Let us insist on Love—in our words, our actions, our public witness, and our life together.

I have long hoped for just such a bold statement of faith for these dark times. See, e.g., A Barmen Declaration for our time? This letter gives me reason for hope. I hope that this letter will be more than just another social statement. I hope that what we read in the text of this letter will make its way into the preaching within our congregations. I hope that our members will carry it into their family gatherings, into the barbershops, bowling alleys, hair salons, book clubs, back yard barbeques, classroom discussions, chat groups and everywhere else people gather. I hope that my church will not have to issue yet another statement of apology a generation from now for its failure to stand up for immigrants ruthlessly deported for lack of “documentation,” for people of color brutalized by our government’s ruthless efforts to rebuild the structures of Jim Crow, for the persecution, slander and violence committed against transgender persons and whatever other victims the present American regime consigns to the netherworld of “the least” among us. I hope that enough of us have learned the lessons of our failed past to avoid repeating it in this present moment God has given us for witness and service.

No, God has not rejected the church and never will. The question always is whether the church will, for the sake of peace in the ecclesiastical household, reject the peace God desires for the world that comes only through the doing of justice. History does not paint a hopeful picture. But the good news of the gospel is that history is not the final word. The past need not bind the future.   

Here is a poem by  CAConrad on the forward direction of hope.

Slaves of Hope Live Only For Tomorrow

Source: PoetryNow, 2015, (c. 2015 by CAConrad) CAConrad (b. 1966) is an American poet, professor and author. Conrad identifies as Queer and uses the pronouns they/their. They were born in Topeka, Kansas and grew up in Boyertown, Pennsylvania. Their mother was a fourteen-year-old runaway and their father was a Vietnam War veteran. They were bullied as a child and stated in the feature film documentary, The Book of Conrad (2015), “People called me ‘faggot’ more than they called me my name.”

Conrad was a 2014 Lannan Fellow, a 2013 MacDowell Fellow, and a 2011 Pew Fellow, they also conduct workshops on (Soma)tic poetry and Ecopoetics. Their book While Standing in Line for Death won a 2018 Lambda Book Award; their Amanda Paradise: Resurrect Extinct Vibration received a 2022 PEN Oakland – Josephine Miles Literary Award. In 2022, they were awarded a Ruth Lilly Poetry Prize for lifetime achievement in poetry. Conrad currently teaches poetry at Columbia University and the Sandberg Art Institute in Amsterdam. You can read more about CAConrad and sample more of their poetry at the Poetry Foundation website.