When we listen to each other’s stories, and sing, and praise God, and share the Eucharist, we come together at Lady Wisdom’s feet. The wisdom of God is revealed, and we are united in the spirit of God. Ordinary places are transformed into sacred places.

Vicar Meagan McLaughlin
     Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost, Lectionary 20, year B
     texts: Proverbs 9:1-6, Psalm 34:9-14, Ephesians 5:15-20, John 6:51-58

Wisdom and Life to you, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Shortly after I started my year here, one of you said to me, “We LOVE our interns! And then their year ends, and they leave. And then we get a new one! We LOVE our interns!” I knew then, if not before, that being a teaching congregation is an integral part of who Mount Olive is. There is a rhythm to the process of internship that is lived out not just by Intern and Supervisor and Committee, but by all of you, in different ways. It is not easy or comfortable, to live in that rhythm, but for all of its challenges, you embrace it, and for that I am very grateful.

A Lakota elder shared with a group of United Theological seminarians recently that Lakota tradition tells us that our stories are rooted in place, not time. And according to that tradition, the valley below Fort Snelling is the birthplace of creation, a sort of Garden of Eden, and it is also the birthplace of many Lakota people whose mothers travelled days and weeks to get to that place so their children could be born there. No matter how much time passes, their stories and the story of creation itself are alive there in that sacred place.

A part of Mount Olive’s story is that it is a place that gives birth to interns. And in this sacred place, for a century, we—you—have broken bread, shared the Eucharist together. Through the Eucharist, the body and blood of Jesus, we live in Jesus, and Jesus lives in us, and because of that, we all live forever. This is sacred space. The stories of 46 vicars are rooted in this place, now. No matter how much time passes, their stories are alive here.

As I leave Mount Olive, to return to seminary and then seek a call in a different place, through the mystery of the Eucharist that establishes a communion among us and Jesus our God, a part of my story stays here with you. A part of my story is mingled with the stories of all who have been a part of this community for over 100 years, and in a special way with the 45 vicars who have come before me, with all of you who have listened to my story, and all of you who have shared your stories with me.

And in a week, your new Vicar Anna Helgen will join you here, and her story, too, will become woven into the sacred place that is Mount Olive. It will be up to all of you to figure out how you will distinguish Anna Helgen from Anna Kingman!

It is fitting that the readings for today speak to us of insight, maturity, trust in God. Internship is an intentional time of learning and growth, being called to the house of Lady Wisdom, to sit at her feet and listen for the will of God. Paul enjoins the Ephesians, and us, to live wisely, understand the will of the Lord, and sing praises. In your company, I have certainly had a chance to gain wisdom, experience the work of the Spirit, and sing praises to God!

As I prepared to preach today, my last time at Mount Olive, and as I move on from this place, these scriptures are a reminder to me that, as much as you all have taught me, I am not done yet. None of us are done yet. Regardless of our age, or our experience, or our education, we all have a lot to learn. We all need God’s guidance.

“Be careful then how you live, not as unwise people but as wise, making the most of the time, because the days are evil.” Living wisely is not passive, and it is not easy. Living wisely requires first of all that we see the world and ourselves as it is. There is great beauty and love and goodness here, in the world our God has made, and there is beauty, love, and goodness within each one of us. There is also brokenness—as Paul says, “the days are evil,” both in us and in our world. Wisdom sees the full truth, the beauty and the brokenness, and pursues the will of God in light of that truth.

Living wisely is not a one-time action, like a class we can take and graduate from, or an internship we complete, and we are done and wise and know the will of God forever more. We are called to live wisely. All of us are perpetually called to spend time at Lady Wisdom’s feet, listening to her stories. We are called to come together, again and again, to share in the Eucharist. We come to be closer to God, to allow the spirit of God to enter into our very being, and to grow in wisdom and understanding. We come together, knowing that we are hungry, to be fed the body and blood that make us whole, and one, in Jesus.

One of the biggest challenges to this is that, if we are wise, we will respond to Lady Wisdom’s call to “the simple!” Before we can enter into full communion with God and each other, before we can gain wisdom, we have to understand that we need God, and that we have things to learn from God and one another.

In other words, we need to be humble. My favorite definition of humility is “being right-sized.” That means that we resist the temptation to either make ourselves out to be bigger or smarter or wiser than we are, or to write ourselves off as not having anything to contribute to the kingdom of God in this world. In humility, we see ourselves as we are, in all our humanity, knowing we are no better or worse than anyone else. For those of us who like to know where we stand in the rankings, who prefer certainty to uncertainty, this is a challenge, one that seems to go against everything we have been taught. But it is the way of wisdom.

Wisdom sees the full truth, beauty and brokenness, and pursues the will of God in light of that truth. When we show up as we are, in all our beauty and brokenness, we are open to learn, and can be fully present to one another. When we show up as we are, and invite others to show up as they are, and we listen to each other’s stories, and sing, and praise God, and share the Eucharist, we come together at Lady Wisdom’s feet. The wisdom of God is revealed, and we are united in the spirit of God. Ordinary places are transformed into sacred places.

We enter into sacred places, and are moved to action. Living wisely is not passive! Wisdom sees the full truth, and pursues the will of God in light of that truth. We understand something of God’s will for us in that moment, and then . . . . . we pursue it. We pursue peace. We pursue justice. We do what we are called to do to contribute to the kingdom of God in our communities.

We will not do it alone, and we will make mistakes, because we are human, and it’s not about being perfect, after all. It’s about creating places where stories can be shared, and songs can be sung, and the will of God can be revealed. Sacred places, that honor and give birth to life. Lady Wisdom is calling us to learn and grow and change, and none of us are done yet.

Thanks be to God!

The mystery of the Incarnation begins with this young woman, Mary, who was able to see the eternal God coming to her and working within her own abilities, her ordinary gifts, her humanity, to save the world.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
   The feast of St. Mary, Mother of Our Lord
   text:  Luke 1:46-55

Sisters and brothers in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen

“My spirit rejoices in God my Savior, who has looked on the humiliation of his slave.”

We heard “looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant,” which is good, and interprets the context. But the harsher reading gets us deeper into Mary’s truth.

Mary recognized that the one, true God was identifying with her. This magnificent song is a praise of what happens when God does that. It begins with God looking on our humiliation. Looking with favor on our lowliness. This young woman grasped what it takes many of us a lifetime to comprehend: if God was going to be born in her, then God was going to be working in person in humiliation and weakness to save the world.

Maybe she didn’t grasp it fully at first. But she said yes to the one thing that was asked of her, the one thing: she agreed to be a mother.

She agreed to do what women before her and after have done so often.

As a man, I can’t claim that bearing a child is easy. But Mary said yes to what was a normal thing, something she had already anticipated, hoped for, as her future, something many women had done, including her mother, grandmother, and relatives like Elizabeth.

There was little else given to her. God gave no particular parenting instructions for this child. There was no provision for the child’s food and clothing. No inheritance set aside, no housing, no special gifts.

Mary said, “let it be as God says,” with little guidance for what came next.

But she realized this: what God needed from her was something she could do.

Mary’s call was to be herself. Through that, God would save.

She would bear this child as women do, with the help of women around her, at home, and in Bethlehem. She would do what her body was designed to do.

She would parent this child, as parents always do, with little to go on but her own love, wisdom, common sense, and the advice, wisdom, and love of her family.

She would travel to see relatives, as people often do. She would make a pilgrimage with her son and husband to Jerusalem, as people did. She would deal with life and being the mother of this child to the best of her ability, as mothers do everywhere.

And she understood that this was all God needed. She wasn’t asked to do anything beyond her normal, human capabilities. She was asked to be Mary, mother of Jesus, wife of Joseph, child of Nazareth, herself.

And that would be the way God would begin the salvation of the world.

That’s the grace that surrounds us on Mary’s feast day: the Triune God saves through the ordinary lives of human beings.

Now we celebrate Mary as Theotokos, as Queen of Heaven, as the Mother of Our Lord, lots of capital letters, much praise and glory. In truth, the glory of Mary is found in God’s full identification with the humiliation of our humanity.

What she sings, of God lifting up the poor, casting down the proud, feeding the hungry, sending the rich away, could sound like a revolution of violence and power. In fact, it is a revolution of humiliation of the One who made all things.

God my Savior has looked upon my humiliation, Mary sang, looked with favor on my lowliness. God has decided to enter the humiliation, the lowliness of human life, in all our fragility and brokenness, to bring human life back into the life of God.

If we want to see where God is working, it’s no consolation prize to say, “look at what God’s people are up to.” It’s the place God will surely be seen. It’s the grand prize truth of what the birth of the Son of God to Mary means for the world.

This means we also are not asked to do what we cannot do.

That’s the gift Mary gives us with her “yes.” She reveals how utterly basic it will be for us to be a part of God’s salvation of the world.

We are not called to be someone else, with someone else’s gifts. We are not called to have great worldly power, unless we have it. (And if we do, God will use that, too.) We are, like Mary, simply asked to be ourselves.

To see ourselves as part of God’s great overturning of the ways of this world, and keep that awareness in our hearts and minds as we act, decide, live, love. Mary parented Jesus to the best of her ability, but with that one addition, that she understood her involvement in a greater plan of God. She still had to change his diapers, feed him, teach him, maybe even scold him. She likely parented with similar skills and attitudes as her parents had, as we all do. But with one difference, she knew God was working through her to love the world.

We have the same gift. We live, love, decide, act, work, play in this world as we are able, with the gifts we’ve been given, but now we know something else. Now we know the Triune God is working through us to bring life and love to this world.

God looked on our humiliation, our human-ness, and said, “That’s where I will work.”

It’s terrific news. It’s enough to give each one of us purpose and meaning to every moment of our lives, to give import and grace to every interaction we have with another child of God.

It’s also alarming news. To think that what we are doing in this moment, or the next, is something God is working in to make life happen can be intimidating, even frightening.

So we remember Mary. She smiles at us in love and says, “it’s not as scary as you think, and the joy of knowing God believes you are necessary, of feeling at God work in you, is immeasurable. So all will be well. Go ahead and say yes.”

God give us the courage and spirit to do just that.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

When we eat our life’s bread, our Lord Christ, we take God’s very essence into us and we are drawn into the reality, heart, peace, and life of the Triune God and become part of Someone greater than we, yet including all.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
   Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost, Lectionary 19, year B
   texts:  John 6:35, 41-51; 1 Kings 19:4-8; Ephesians 4:25 – 5:2

Sisters and brothers in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen

We all long to know that we matter, that we’re noticed, that someone thinks we’re important.

Our society idolizes the individual, urges us to claim our rights to be whatever we want to be, but at our depth we fear we are alone. What if we don’t show up and no one notices? What if we’re in pain and no one cares? What if we’re struggling and people just pass us by?

People of faith join communities of faith looking to belong, to matter. But it’s amazing how people start to change, and bend over backwards for others they hardly know. People look out for each other in a place like this, pray for each other, notice when people are missing. We come here to find a place for ourselves, but we change.

Paul explains with this truth: “we are members of one another.” The body of Christ is our deeper truth, not our individuality. The more we live into this body we are changed. We do things differently, choose differently, live differently, because it’s no longer about me, or you, but about us. We are members of one another.

Without fully knowing it was happening, we’ve lived what Jesus teaches today.

We have taken Christ Jesus into us as bread of life and he has changed us. This is a deep, confusing teaching, but we’ve started living it.

It’s like what happens whenever we eat. Our body is changed by the foods we eat, whether it’s a meat-heavy or vegetable-rich diet, lots of carbohydrates or sugar, our body chemistry, health and life change.

That’s what happens when we take Christ’s essence and life into us, as our bread of life. We are not who we were before. This is hard to grasp; Jesus lost lots of followers when he spoke like this. People don’t want to be changed. People don’t want to hear strange, disgusting teachings like “eat my body, drink my blood.” People don’t want hard-to-comprehend teachings, just simple answers.

But Jesus is being simple. He says if we can imagine drawing his life into ours, we will discover he is drawing us into the life of God, and we will never be alone, never be afraid of being lost, never wonder if we are valued or important to others again. And even though it’s been happening partly without our knowing, if we look now we can see at least four ways Christ transforms us by drawing us to God.

When we eat of our Lord, take this bread of life into us, we are drawn into God’s reality.

When Christ fills us we are drawn out of our own sense of what is real and what isn’t. The barriers between us and God fall and we see things not as we always have, but as God does. The barriers between us and others fall because we share God’s vision together.

So we’re able to look at the pain of the world as God does and see not only that it needs to be dealt with but also that we have the ability to do something. We’re able to look at the problems of the world and see what we’ve done to make them and start to work in the other direction.

When we are drawn into God’s reality it becomes ours, and with our community of faith we start seeing our path clearly together, not hundreds of different paths.

And when we eat of our Lord, take this bread of life into us, we are drawn into God’s heart.

When Christ fills us we are drawn out of our sense of what is lovable and what isn’t. The barriers between us and God fall and we love things not as we always have, but as God does. The barriers between us and others fall because we share God’s love together.

So we lose our fear that we can’t be loved by others in the joy that we are surrounded by God’s love. Our decisions, our actions, our way with everyone, from family to friends to co-workers to strangers are shaped by love, not fear or selfishness.

When we are drawn into God’s heart we find we are loved forever, and our whole world view becomes deep and abiding love for others in the limitless love of God.

And when we eat of our Lord, take this bread of life into us, we are drawn into God’s peace.

When Christ fills us we are drawn out of what is troubling us, making us anxious, afraid. The barriers between us and God fall and we feel things with the confidence that comes from living in the peace of God. The barriers between us and others fall because we live together in God’s peace and stop being afraid of each other, of ourselves, of life.

When we are drawn into God’s peace we find a place we couldn’t have found on our own, a place of calm in the midst of storms, a place of silence in the midst of shouting, joined together in God’s peace, and we know that all will be well.

And when we eat of our Lord, take this bread of life into us, we are drawn into God’s life.

When Christ fills us we are drawn out of our sense of the limits of life and death and its finality. The barriers between us and God fall and we see life not as the years we have to live, but as a quality of how we live. The barriers between us and others fall because we realize we share a life together in God that is profoundly more vital than each of our lives apart.

When we are drawn into God’s life we find what Christ means by eternal life. Life in the life of God connected to everyone else and connected to God, we are never alone, we never need to fear, not even our death, because together we are part of God’s life that is now and always.

John doesn’t tell us of the Lord’s Supper, just this teaching. Maybe that’s because the Lord’s Supper was intended all along to remind us of this.

On the night of his betrayal Jesus gave us this meal, calling it his body and his blood, perhaps because he was thinking of this teaching and realizing how difficult it would be for us to grasp. We’re so individual and independent, it would be hard to get what it meant to be drawn into the very being of God through Christ.

Jesus said do the Lord’s Supper to remember him. What if the point of tangible bread and wine was that we would, over time, deepen in our remembering of this prior teaching and our living into it? That we would come to this Table seeing it not as an end in itself, but God’s food that transforms us, food that truly is Christ Jesus in us, food that draws us into the reality, heart, peace, and life of the Triune God for our life going forward.

We would realize we are Elijah in the wilderness, and Christ is urging us, “get up and eat. You need to eat me for this journey of faith, and this bread and wine will help you know what it is to truly take me into you and be changed.”

So now we get up and eat. We take our Lord’s body and blood into us. And now we know what that means for the rest of our lives.

It means that all the barriers between us and God, between us and others, are coming down as we are drawn in, and changed.

It begins here in this place, as we live more deeply the truth that we are “members of one another,” as we deepen in our imitation of God, as Paul invites, living and breathing in God’s reality and heart and peace and life.

It will continue beyond this room, though, because once there’s nothing that keeps us apart from each other, once we all matter to each other, and we all belong to God, once our being in the body of Christ is far more important than any of our individual lives, it’s a small leap to recognize we belong to and are a part of everyone on this planet. To begin to live lives that show that what happens to everyone matters, that there is no one who doesn’t count, no one who isn’t noticed.

What that will look like for us lies ahead. The Holy Spirit will show us. But today we know that’s our path, and we once more will eat and drink our Lord Christ into ourselves for that journey, but now more fully aware of what this food will do for us.

It is grace and life beyond anything we could have imagined.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

Our life in faith is summed up in believing in, trusting in, God-with-us for all we need, not for all the answers, not for all things, but that in Christ we are joined to the life of the Triune God and we find life.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
   Tenth Sunday after Pentecost, Lectionary 18, year B
      texts:  John 6:(15-21)(22-23)24-35; Exodus 16:2-4, 9-15

Sisters and brothers in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen

How can you make someone king who’s already ruler of the universe?

The crowds want Jesus to be their king, or a new Moses, and take care of all their needs. Jesus already is the Son of God, ruler of all things. He doesn’t need or want the role they would give him.

What of us? Do we want a ruler of this world who will take care of all human problems? It’s a moot question; there is no leader who could do that job. So we, too, are faced with understanding the kind of ruler the one true God is for us and the world.

We can’t make God be what we want. So we need to know who God really is, and if that’s enough.

That’s not easy to do.

In the wilderness and Galilee we see the usual approach.

The Israelites were happy to follow Moses when things looked great: leaving slavery, moving to a new land promised by God, life will be good. Until Pharaoh heard and increased their suffering. They finally got out, and again it was good, until they realized they were in the middle of a wilderness with no food. Now they hate and revile Moses, and the God he represents. They complain, and God provides manna and quails.

Jesus faces lesser expectations, as the crowds weren’t journeying to a promised land. But they brought him all of their needs, and he fed them, did healing, taught them about God. Now, on day two, they want more signs. After all, satisfied hunger returns the next day if there still is no food.

We do this. When things are good, we’re happy and we trust God. When things get difficult, we begin to ask the questions about God’s true intention, God’s ability to help us. We start to complain in the wilderness, asking for signs that prove we can trust God.

It’s easy to understand why.

The human needs on this planet are tremendous; just a short list includes war, hunger, poverty, illness, oppression, prejudice, injustice.

After that list, our needs almost seem unmentionable, but they’re ours and they’re real. People we love get sick, every week we pray for new people. We’ve just faced the death of loved ones in our community; that will keep happening. Some of us struggle with illnesses like depression, some of us legitimately worry about making ends meet, some of us fear a threatening world. We don’t have to compare our needs to a starving family to recognize we have needs that on any given day can seem overwhelming, painful, frightening.

If the Triune God isn’t going to meet those needs, it’s normal to wonder if we can trust such a God. If we don’t get our answers, if things don’t improve, if we struggle day after day, how can we trust God?

What sign will you give us so we can believe in you, God?

Wouldn’t it be more sensible to look for an earthly ruler who could actually take care of things?

Jesus says we’re not thinking big enough.

The Israelites are only worried about the lack of food. Despite all God has done for them, they fret that it doesn’t include a plan for feeding them on the journey. They’re following the One God to a place they’ve never seen in the belief it will be their land, and they think somehow God forgot to pack lunch. They’re not thinking big enough.

The crowds compare Jesus to human leaders. Could he be our king? Are there signs he’s at least as powerful as Moses was for our ancestors?

They’re not thinking big enough, Jesus says. First, it was God who gave them manna, not Moses. Also, that God is “my Father,” Jesus says. Then he lays it out: “I am . . . the bread of life.”

You don’t say “I am” in a way like that to people who know the proper name of the God who brought them out of Egypt is “I am,” and not expect them to make that connection. Jesus’ great I Am statements in John are drumbeats of identification of Jesus with the one, true God, and this is the first clear one.

So Jesus is saying, “forget for a moment about another lunch, or even the little bit with the missing boats and walking on water. Forget about comparing me to Moses. In me, in my presence, God is here. I am. I am the bread you need. The life you need.”

In fact, he tells them the only “work” they have to do for God is believe in the One God sent. Believe in me. Because I am.

And Jesus says that’s enough for them and for us.

If we can believe in him, trust he is sent by God, trust him when he says, “I am enough,” it will be, he says.

John tells us later that these signs – water into wine, multiplied bread and fish, walking on water, and more – are given us so we can believe “that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing, have life in his name.”  John 20:31

The signs aren’t the point, they point to the real thing, so we can believe, and have life in his name. We don’t stand at sign posts on the road and wait for another, we go where they point.

Jesus says that he is what we need, that this relationship with the one, true God he is bringing to us and the world will be life for us, in spite of our needs and fears and struggles. He calls us to trust that when we come to him, believe in him, our hunger and our thirst will go away.

That sounds great. At some point, though, what difference does that really make? For the world’s problems? For our problems? Do we have enough to go on to not only believe in God-with-us but trust that will be enough?

In this place we have learned that we do.

I’ve been away from you for three months and have had time to think and ponder what it is God has made in this place. I had the privilege of spending some time with a long-time member on Friday where we talked about the same thing. This is a truth about this community of faith: here in this place we gather because we believe in the promise that the one true God, the Triune God who made us and saves us, will meet us here. And we will find life.

We are comfortable with mystery here. We have lots of good theologians here, lots of faithful disciples who might not call themselves theologians (even if they are) but have come here for years to meet God. We have people who are seeking, questioning, we have people who come here and find a safe place, find peace. What joins us all is that in this place we don’t fret about getting all the answers.

We come here because we meet God here, in Word and song and prayer and silence and beauty, and we are filled with the forgiving love and grace of God. We have signs, too: bread and wine, water, the physical grace and presence of brothers and sisters who care for us and surround us as Christ by their lives.

And that’s enough to satisfy us.

We know we are called to do things, and here we find guidance. We know there are problems in the world and our lives, and here we find paths to answers, people who help, promises that God is working to make a difference.

But ultimately, we gather here comfortable with not knowing all, open to mystery, not needing answers because we know and expect God will be with us. And God is. And it’s enough.

In this place a great gift that is passed down is this invitation to trust, not complain.

Here we meet people who have walked this path enough to know that a relationship with the Triune God based on God’s undying love and transforming forgiveness, a life with God’s life flowing in us through the Spirit, is enough to handle any circumstances, enough to challenge any to deeper discipleship and work in the world, enough to calm anxiety and bring peace, even in the face of death.

At any given time some of us forget this, because life happens. We gather here because there is always someone in this place who will remind us that in the life Christ gives us we have food and drink enough to satisfy all our needs. There is always someone here who will help whichever of us is inevitably struggling like the crowds and the Israelites.

Jesus says it’s enough for us to believe in him, to come to him, and if we trust him, we’ll find our hunger satisfied, our thirst quenched.

So, Christ Jesus, we are here. Come to us now and fill us with your life. It will be enough.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen