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.

Jesus Prays for Us

A sermon for my seminary class 

      "Preaching the Gospel of John: 

            Abundant Life as a Vision for Christian Community"

on Jesus' Farewell Prayer in John 17:6-19

I once read that having a child is like taking your heart…

     and putting it outside of your body

          and letting it walk around, out into the world…

               removed from the safe protection of being close, 

                    inside and part of you.

It is a beautiful and terrifying image of parenthood.

And as we have heard Jesus say

     all along this journey we’ve been on 

through the Gospel of John –

      he is so close to his Father.

He is in the Father and the Father is in him.

     It is as if he is the Father’s own heart.

And so what we have witnessed in these past 10 weeks

     is nothing less than what is closest to God’s heart.

          The Father’s heart is for healing.

               The Father’s heart is for abundant life.

                    The Father’s heart is for love of the world, 

                         of the whole cosmos…

                    the dangerous dark world 

                         where God’s heart walks around

                              away from God for a time…

                     The Father’s heart is for the unity of all things.

And today, in the seventeenth chapter of John,

     we hear a prayer of God’s very own heart,

          of God’s own Son,

               of Jesus.

And he prays for us…

     knowing that we are in the same dangerous world 

          he has been in…

     trusting that even when he goes away, 

           we will be protected in his Father…

Jesus prays for us, cares for us…

     In Jesus’ prayer, we are held in God’s heart, 

          wrapped so completely in love…

    like a baby wrapped up safe and tight to rest…

          or like a child securely enthroned 

               in the shade of a blanket fort,

                    whose strength is not in stone but in comfort.

Jesus knows he is leaving us soon…

     So he prays - asking God to protect us

          from a world that doesn’t love us like God does,

               doesn’t hold us as precious.

We know too well how true this is.

     We have all felt unsafe…unloved…in this world…

          We aren’t heard with grace 

               or held in love when we need to be.

We know what it is to need a listening ear and embrace,

          and instead to feel the cold stone indifference 

               of people or organizations

          that fail to see us as the fragile, but beautiful children we are.

We know what it is to need a gentle hand 

          to brush tears from our eyes

     and to cradle our head against a strong shoulder

          and instead to feel the empty ache of an empty room

               or only a thin voice too far away to truly embrace us.

We know what it is to fail to do our best,

     to fail to live lives above reproach,

          to fail to meet expectations set out for us…

     and we have thirsted for grace in the desert of our disappointment.

We have offered our own hearts in our work, 

     in our church, on so much paper…

          and felt them shredded and thrown away or even attacked.

We have been cast out of the very places 

     we yearn to live and love and serve.

And when the world has hurt us…even attacked us,

     God’s heart is with us into our need and frailty…

          he climbs over the walls of the world’s indifference

               and brings us healing

          instead of leaving us to fight for ourselves

               when we have no fight left in us,

like he did for the man who was paralyzed waiting by the pool.

Jesus comes into our grief

     when we have already given up and collapsed

          into the ache of loneliness and hopelessness

               and he feels our grief himself…

like he did for Mary and Martha…

          and he brings us through death to life…

like he did for Lazarus.

Jesus stands beside us when we have failed,

     as our accusers hurl their words of skepticism and scrutiny,

          their “concerns” about our worthiness

     or whether there is really a place for someone like us.

          And he waits right beside us, 

               until they put down their stones,

                   and then tells us that nothing we have done 

                        or failed to do

                             can put us beyond his love and redemption…

like he did for the woman caught in adultery.

Even when we have been cast out, trodden on, 

          thrown out like so much garbage…

     Jesus comes to the dumpster in the alley,

          outside the clean walls that were our safety…

              our community…

     and he tells us that no institution will stop him

          from endorsing, approving and assigning us a place

               as one of his own beloved friends… 

                    wherever we end up next…

just as he did for the man born blind.

And what can we say or do in the face of promises like these?

As followers of Christ through the Gospel of John,

     after all this time,

          walking with Jesus maybe you have begun to feel,

               as I sometimes have…

     that it’s time for me to know what to do now, 

          how to respond…

I should know by now how to be a disciple.

    After all, it’s almost the end of the book.

And I think we’ve all read ahead…

     Jesus is about to leave…to die…to be glorified.

I need to know what to do.

But, as Jesus is speaking to us for the last time in his life,

     though he has counted us among his followers…his friends,

          I realize I still don’t know how to do it…

               how to be a disciple… 

especially without Jesus right in front of me.

And in his final words, he sets my fears to rest.

     Not because he answers the question…

         not because he tells me what to do…

but because he makes it as clear as it has ever been

     that the question I’m asking 

          is not the one he is concerned about.

I have been well-trained in my life…

     but I have been trained to ask the wrong question…

         because… Jesus is not my mother.

Let me explain…

     The second to last thing (right before “I love you”)

that my mother almost ALWAYS says before she goes anywhere,

     is almost ALWAYS an instruction.

“Don’t forget to feed the dogs.”

     “Drive safely.”

         “Remember to turn down the water heater.”

“Watch out for deer on the road.”

     “Drive safely!”

(Usually, it’s “drive safely.”)

Okay… so it’s not just my mother, is it?

     We all have family members like that.

          Okay… some of us ARE family members like that.

Maybe in your family someone leaves a list on the kitchen table… 

     always a list

Or post-it notes

     all over the individual Tupperware containers in the fridge…

         and on each one of the kids’ outfits in the closet.

But, Jesus is not leaving us with instructions,

     or lists on the table, or a house covered in post-its.

    

Where I would make a list,

     and my mother would say to “drive safely” 

          and “wash behind your ears,”

Jesus…prays.

He does not entrust our security in this hostile world to us.

     He still does not expect us to take the lead,

          to save ourselves or the world…

               or the church.

Jesus hands us over to God,

     because we are God’s already.

And as he prays, Jesus says that God gave us to him to begin with,

     and that he has taken care of us,

          and he is handing us back over to God’s care.

We are not orphaned, or abandoned, or alone… or in charge.

We are commended to God’s care.

     No list, no last minute instructions or rules…just prayer.

And Jesus is so good to us, that he makes sure we overhear him…

     “I revealed your name to the people 

          whom you gave to me out of the cosmos.

      They were yours, and you gave them to me…

               I, myself, am asking about them, not about the cosmos,

          but rather 

               I am asking about those whom you have given 

                    to me,

                         because they are yours…

      Holy Father, guard them in your name, 

          which you have given to me,

               so that they might be one just as we are.”

One more time…we are assured…

     We are God’s. We are safe. We are loved…

          We are held in God’s own heart, in Christ, 

               who prays for us, forever.

Amen.