Ash Wednesday 2015 - Dust

This is a sermon manuscript 

for St. Martin's Lutheran Church of Austin, Texas.

In one of my favorite plays there is a character,

     a poor scorned young lover…

          who is basically invisible 

               to the object of his affection,

     except when she’s being incredibly mean to him.

He turns to an older, wiser, mentor 

     for advice in his distress…

          and with sadness at being treated so badly.

“Celia treats me like dirt!” he says, 

     with great self-pity and despair.

         And with a sigh and a knowing look, 

               his mentor pauses and says…

“Well…you are dirt. We’re all dirt.”

     The young lover is taken aback…

          but launches back into his self-pity 

               almost instantly…

“Well, then why can’t she at least treat me like 

     nice dirt?”

On Ash Wednesday, every year,

     we hear what we have known 

          from the beginning of time…

what we often push into the back of our minds…

     or try to hide for fear that someone else 

          will realize it…

               realize what we really are…

     nothing but dust…

We say out loud today what we have known 

     from the dawn of Creation…

          we are earth…dust…dirt…

But perhaps we forget that in those young days

     of earth and sun and sea and sky…

God said that everything God made was good…

     that we were good…very good…

We are dirt…but we are nice dirt. We are good dirt.

Today, we remember how small we are…

     and we are very small…

          but not so small that the Lord of the Universe

               doesn’t choose to know us and care for us.

There is a Serbian proverb that says –

     Be humble for you are made of earth. 

          Be noble for you are made of stars.

Earthdust. Stardust.

     Remember you are dust.

You are part of the dust under your feet…

     and part of the dust in the blazing heart 

          of the farthest stars.

We wear that dust today… that ash…

     to remind us who and what we are.

As we enter this Lenten journey,

     we remember that we are part 

          of everything God made…

               part of everything Christ came to redeem…

     and we prepare now to witness his work 

          of saving the world again…

               first covered in the disgraceful dust 

                    of a scandalous death,

               only to break the bonds of death

          and shine with the resurrection’s stardust.

It turns out you can’t have one without the other, 

     it seems.

Earth and stars.

     Dirt….but good dirt.

St. Ambrose said that perhaps it would be better

     if we could actually baptize people 

          by burying them in earth

               and not just in water…

                    so we might really make the point.

Baptism into Christ…

     is just as much about dying 

          as it is about living forever.

     You can’t have one without the other.

“Remember you are dust 

     and to dust you shall return.”

           These words we hear today

               could be enough to ponder 

     for the whole 40 day pilgrimage of Lent.

Perhaps if we didn’t worship again 

     until Easter morning,

          we would have enough spiritual work to do, 

               just living with those ten words.

Out of this declaration 

     comes the whole discipline of this season –

          fasting, prayer, and acts of love…

               not undertaken…

          as the gospel writer warns us…

     so that we can be seen and praised by people 

          for being so good…

     but because we remember that we are so small…

          because we remember that each of us,

               small, dusty, light-filled creatures of earth

          are fashioned from dust…

     will return to dust…

and yet are loved by the Maker 

     of everything that is.

For those of us that return here 

     to worship on Sundays…

          or gather for worship in the homes of members 

               of this congregation

                    on Wednesday evenings…

     or go to other church homes during these 40 days…

Maybe we go because the reminder of this day 

     is not enough for us…

We seek the nourishment of Holy Communion

     and the communion of saints 

          as we walk through the valley of Lent.

Some of us take on spiritual disciplines

     to tether us to a reminder of God’s presence 

          in our daily routines.

Whether a spiritual discipline, 

     or a community of faith,

          or simply the echo of those words, 

               “Remember you are dust”…

          carries you through these forty days…

     may you be blessed along the way.

May you carry with you the knowledge

     that you are small…limited…finite…mortal…

          and blessed…beloved…good…

and held in the heart of the one who is Everlasting.

May you know that you are dirt…

     but you good dirt.

Be humble for you are made of earth. 

     Be noble for you are made of stars.

Enter these forty days –

     and this journey with the God 

          who sees fit to come so close to us

     that he takes on the earthy dust of our death…

to carry us into the stardust of risen life.

Because if it is true 

    that you cannot have one without the other,

We know that it is also true that our God meets us

     in both our death and our life,

and as we walk through the valley of Lent…

     Christ journeys with us…

so we need never fear what and who we are….

     because we are loved and known fully

          by the one who made us and redeems us.

Thanks be to God. Amen.

THPTFTU

A sermon for the Fourth Sunday after Epiphany, Lectionary 4B - Luke 4:21-30.

This sermon was preached in the community of 

     Lutheran Campus Ministry at UT-Austin 

          on February 3, 2013 

(which happened to be Super Bowl Sunday).

I’m glad you could all make it,

     and I really appreciate you coming early

          so I can be home in time 

               to watch the cute puppies on Animal Planet.

I assume you will all be doing the same…

But before we get too distracted 

     with the other events of this day,  

I hope we can settle in for a few moments 

     to reflect together on the words 

          we have heard proclaimed…

     because they are beautiful and complicated

          and timely and…as I have found them…true.

The readings today are full

     of compelling narrative and beautiful language…

          And I think they might even be 

               especially appropriate for a day 

                    of such cultural significance as today.

When we go home today

     many of us will participate in an hours-long ritual

          where we  will be reminded 

               of how much value we give

                    to an odd assortment of things:

                         like the ability to throw and run 

                              and tackle and kick….

                         And like the beauty, attractiveness,

                              cleverness or wealth 

                                   that will surely come to us

                         if only we buy the right beer, 

                              car, clothing,

                                   snack food and razor blades…

We will be reminded of our own tenuous quests 

     for what is worthwhile.

But worrying about what is worthwhile…

     and who is worthwhile is not a new struggle.

          Thousands of years ago, God called a prophet…

   a prophet who knew that he was too young 

          to speak with authority.

But Jeremiah was given God’s own words…

    after God reminded him 

          that he didn’t have to explain his credentials…

God already knew exactly who Jeremiah was…

     And had determined his worth and purpose long ago.

In First Corinthians, 

     Paul talks about what is worthwhile, too…

          And it’s nothing they advertise on network TV.

The love that Paul describes –

     patient, kind, not irritable 

          or insisting on its own way...

               is not formulaic enough for match.com 

                    to corner the market on it…

     or for a certain soft drink to help you find it.

It’s a love too perfect for us 

     to ever fully realize in ourselves…

           though there are those moments 

               we cling to that feel so close…

When I asked my stepson Avery 

     to talk with me about love,

          I asked where we find 

               the kind of love Paul talks about,

          And where we need more of it…

He talked about how even in our families, 

     even with those we love most,

          We still fight and fight…

               and fight and fight and fight.

He’s right. It’s kind of our thing. It’s what we do.

    

At the theological conference 

     Pastor Paul and I just attended,

          We heard someone share from a book

               where the word “sin” was redefined in a way

                    that might capture its meaning better 

for our modern ears.

It’s a long enough phrase

      that it’s easier to refer to by its acronym:

           THPTFTU…The Human Propensity to…

                 umm… "Mess"…Things Up.

Maybe the strong language is necessary

     to really feel the weight of that, though.

          Because we know that we do…pardon me…

               fuck things up.

Badly. And we the victims of other people’s HPTFTU…

     And so are whole groups, classes, nations of people…

          So is the whole planet.

Paul speaks of love…

     but we miss the mark most of the time.

And I think that one of the reasons we do 

     is because we are afraid.

          We, like Jeremiah,

               don’t think we are capable of being 

                     who we are meant to be.

Like him, we are afraid that we don’t count now…

     when we are young…

         But we are also afraid 

              that we will never count at all.

We don’t believe we are loveable…

     we are still afraid of being alone and unloved.

And the love that Paul describes 

     is so shocking in its scope,

          And we are still so captive to our fear 

               of being on the outside…

That when we hear real Love speak

     we tend to try to drive it out of town 

          and throw it off a cliff.

When Jesus explains how the good news of God 

     is for foreigners like the Syrophoenician widow 

          and the Syrian warrior Namaan,

he is talking about a love so wide

     it goes beyond the boundaries of Israel…

          of us and them…of in and out…

but I think what makes his hometown crowd

     (and probably us, to be honest)

angry is the fear that if Jesus is for them…

     he’s not for us…

          as if loving everyone else, too, 

               is a sort of betrayal…

          as if the love of God was as scarce a resource

               as the approval we crave 

                   from the rest of the world…

After all, we know the feeling 

     of being left behind and left out…

          If there were television commentators 

               assessing our skills or critiquing our lives,

     we wonder what good things 

          they would have to say about us.

We watch television, and we know

     that we don’t belong 

          on the international stage as sport legends…

               or on tv commercials 

                   as the icons of beauty and success.

Those people are not us…so who are we?

Well…a voice spoke to Jeremiah’s doubt and fear 

     thousands of years ago…

          And it speaks to ours today.

“I have known you since before you drew breath.

     I have loved you forever.

You are my child,

     and you are one who I trust 

          to bring my words to a world

               that needs more than anything

                    to know that they don’t have to be afraid.”

The good news is…

     God isn’t listening 

          to what anyone else is saying about you…

               Or not saying about you…

God has said everything about you that matters already:

     “I love you. You are mine.”

God’s love is not scarce.

     God’s love for this whole universe 

          does not diminish you…

               It connects you into a web of light and life

                    that is endless and safe and free.

Jesus’ first sermon of his public ministry in Luke…

     the one that seemed to be going so well last week…

          is another theme in the same symphony

               whose notes called Jeremiah to bold witness.

Jesus is saying…I am here for her and for him…

     for those people out there…

          Maybe Jesus was trying to be provocative. 

               Who knows?

But when the people heard those words,

     Maybe they felt like Jesus

          was tearing the words of the prophet Isaiah 

               away from them.

Because they became so angry.

  

But then…even as the people who were afraid

      that God was being taken away from them

          for someone else…

     even then, as they were angry enough to mob him

          and quite literally throw him out…

Jesus moved peacefully through them.

That’s another irony of THPTFTU…of sin… isn’t it?

     When we are afraid that we are losing hold of God,

          we try to physically throw God away…

     which is the exact opposite of what we really want, 

          isn’t it?

But we can’t.

Having finally gone to see The Hobbit yesterday,

     I would be remiss 

          if I didn’t find a link to J.R.R. Tolkein

               in the arc of this story…

     because Tolkein loved epic adventures

          of transformation, loyalty and love…

     almost as much as God does…

And the brave love of others for which God frees us

     came across so strongly to me 

          in the words of hobbit Bilbo Baggins

               when he was reunited with his company 

                     after escaping the goblins…

     though the dwarves still questioned his loyalty

          and ability to share their quest.

“I know you doubt me, I know you always have, 

     and you're right.

          I often think of Bag End. I miss my books,

               and my armchair, and my garden.

                    See, that's where I belong; that's home,

          and that's why I came back…

              'cause you don't have one…a home.

      It was taken from you, 

          but I will help you take it back if I can.”

Whether we feel ready or qualified

     to be drawn into the adventure 

          of God’s redemption of the world,

we are called…we are loved…and we are claimed.

And yes…

     Jesus is for him and her and everyone out there…

          And Jesus is for us.

God has the last word on our worth, 

     and to God, we are priceless.

          In the freedom of that knowledge,

               we know that God’s love for others

                    does not diminish God’s love for us…

     and we, like Jeremiah, can bear that promise to the world without fear.

Thanks be to God. Amen.

One Broken, Resurrected Flesh

I have been quite absent from this blog for awhile, mostly because I use it to share fairly "polished" thoughts, which usually end up being sermon manuscripts...and I didn't do a lot of preaching last year. This sermon is the third I have preached in my new position assisting the campus pastor at the University of Texas Lutheran Campus Ministry. It was hard to write, because both the creation story and Mark's gospel give us difficult words with painful legacies. I hope you find my approach a life-giving one. I do believe that is what God in Christ fully intends...to give us all life and wholeness...

A Sermon for Lutheran Campus Ministry-UT Austin,

October 7, 2012

Lectionary 27B - from Genesis 2:18-24 and Mark 10:2-16                                                                         

I was sorting through my very large pile 

     of neglected mail this week,

          when I came across an envelope 

     from one of the congregations I get mail from sometimes.

A lot of the time they’re just asking for money…

     but I opened it…

It began benignly enough…

     a generic message from the council president

          about how well the program year is going –

    lots of kids in Sunday school…

          the strength of the social outreach program.

Then it began to talk about transitions… 

          again, a fairly neutral word.

   Then, a paragraph said that one of our pastors

        was publicly announcing that she and her husband

              were beginning legal divorce proceedings…

  I felt like I had been punched in the stomach… 

     and the hits kept coming…

          because I read on to find out 

     that one of the other full time pastors

was also announcing that he and his wife were separating.

The letter ended with an announcement 

     of the upcoming council forum

          to discuss various topics 

     of interest or concern to the congregation…

it was to be held…this afternoon.

I doubt the council knew the lectionary 

      when they scheduled the forum…

          nor do I think that the main purpose of the forum

      was to discuss the family lives of the pastoral staff…

  but still…

I prayed for this church family this afternoon,
     the day we heard these words from the Gospel of Mark. 

          knowing it must be a very painful day for them.

For all of us, I think this gospel text hits very close to home…

     for some of us it hits at home…not just close to it…

We have all witnessed or lived through broken relationships 

     and through divorces.

Even in the most peaceful ending of a relationship, 

     we feel grief, anger, loss...

          We live through a small death…

After all, our relationships support our lives,

     They are the solid framework on which we build so much.

When one of them shifts, it is like breaking a bone.

     We can’t walk away from those moments. 

          Sometimes we barely limp.

And a marriage isn’t just any relationship.

     The closest relationships in our lives are our heart’s home.

When they break, it’s like someone has committed arson.

     What was home becomes hollow, burned out, toxic.

We hear in Genesis when God sees the first human

     – that beautiful, fresh creation – 

          something is clear immediately.

“It is not good that man should be alone.”

     God sees the first human and knows 

          that solitude is not how we are meant to be. 

We need each other – networks of love and support.

     We may not all need to be married 

          when it comes right down to it…

               but we all need to love and to be loved.

And so here I need to say something 

     about that fundamental relationship

          so beautifully acclaimed in Genesis

               when Adam says of the human companion 

     God makes for him,

“This at last is bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh.”

     “This is the one who can know my heart 

           and be my partner.”

Partner. That is the word that Genesis uses.

     God intends for our most intimate relationships 

          to be mutually loving and strong.

Some will say that God built a system of subordinate, 

     hierarchical relationships

          in creating man first and woman second…

but a friend of mine,

     who is a much better Hebrew scholar than I am once told me:

“If God had intended Eve to be Adam’s servant,

     she would have been made from the soles of his feet.

If she was just to be a trophy, a decoration on his arm…

     she would have been made from the crown of his head.

But she wasn’t, she was made from his side. 

     She was, and is, his equal.”

The heart of the creation story…of our human story…

     is mutual love and support,

          not hierarchy…

and not a cookie cutter for every relationship there will ever be.

If Genesis tells us one thing, it should be this:

     It is not good for us to be alone. We need each other.

          We need to love. We need to be loved.

     We need to give and to receive. 

          We are meant for community.

If we get hung up on the other details of the story, 

     we miss the point,

And we become very much like the Pharisees 

     in Mark’s gospel today.

Because, this is what I think is happening in Mark 10:

In their question about the permissibility of divorce,

     Jesus hears the Pharisees

          using sacred human relationships as playing pieces

              in their game of cat and mouse with him, 

     and he gets genuinely pissed off.

This is one of those times 

    when the way we hear Scripture matters…

          and it matters that we hear it spoken aloud…

We often hear it read,

     when the Pharisees ask if it is lawful 

          for a man to divorce his wife that Jesus says,

          “What did Moses command you?” quite placidly…

But given the context, 

     I think it just as reasonable that Jesus might reply,

          “What did Moses command you?” 

               in such a sarcastic tone 

          that he it is already clear that he is calling them out

               for their ulterior motives...

because, after all, they know what Moses commanded.

     They know the law. 

          They don’t need to ask Jesus to know what it says.

     And he knows that…and so do they.

And when Jesus goes on to critique Moses 

     for caving in to the hard hearted people,

          I think the subtext of what he’s saying is this:

“How dare you? 

     How dare you come 

         and ask me for permission to break things…

     to break people?

I came here to heal and to make the world whole.

     People were made to be together. 

          Married people become one flesh.

     What you talking about is tearing apart flesh...

          Open bleeding wounds.

How can you be so callous?”

Jesus lays into anyone who displays indifference

      towards human pain and brokenness…

It is hard to talk about what Jesus says here,

     because we are not so sure we can literally get behind it.

The clearest argument we would bring to him, of course,

     is that of relationships that are abusive. What then, Jesus?

Any one of us can testify that Jesus’ main assertion is true:

     that divorce is bad…is painful…

          is not what God hopes for for us.

And yet, we also know that divorce 

    is really naming a brokenness

         that is there already…

The bones are already broken. 

     Our heart’s home is already burning to the ground.

          We are already limping and homeless.

Divorce can be, and often is, a path to fuller life, to healing…

     to the very wholeness God wishes for us.

And if Jesus were being asked the Pharisees’ question 

     by an abused husband or wife,

          I think he would say something quite different…

               but with the same fundamental message.

I came here to heal…to make the world whole…

     to make you whole.

I think that is why Jesus turns to the children 

     just after this shrill conversation

          as it is told in both Mark and in Matthew…

He turns to the ones whose emotions are so honest,

     Maybe he turns to them because he has to talk to someone

           who won’t make his words about politics or power.

Maybe he just needed a hug. Maybe he needed to cry.

     Maybe he just really likes patty-cake and tic-tac-toe…

Or maybe he knew that the children 

    were wiser than anyone else in the room.

          Maybe it was a little bit of all of those things.

And it perplexed the Pharisees and disciples

     who were still interested in figuring out 

          who was allowed to do what

              and who they could righteously judge 

          for making bad choices…

    who the worst sinners were…

who was too broken to be allowed…

But…Jesus is not in the habit of vilifying the broken...

     or suffering…or silly…

He is in the habit of loving them, healing them, 

     dying and rising for them,

          and bringing them through death and into life.

Jesus is in the habit of gathering them…gathering us…

     week after week after broken down week…

and saying, “This is my body. This is my blood.

     I give them for you.

          You are part of my broken body now. 

We are one flesh, now, too.”

And we are. We all are.

     We are the Body of Christ. 

          One broken, and resurrected flesh.

Made to be loved by God…

     and fed and healed by God 

          so we might love one another.

May it be so.

Amen.