The Rev. Dinku L. Bato is a pastor of the Ethiopian Evangelical Church Mekane Yesus and a Ph.D. candidate at Luther Seminary in Congregational Mission and Leadership.  He is from Addis Ababa, and he and his family were at Mount Olive on Transfiguration for a celebration of our partnership in mission with Christians in Ethiopia. He preached and led the adult forum.

Pr. Dinku L. Bato, Transfiguration of our Lord, year C; text: Luke 9:28-36

In the name of the Father, and of + the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.

Introduction

The story in our text today (commonly known as the Transfiguration) foreshadows the two separate events on the Mount of Olives: place of prayer and arrest as well as the scene of the ascension. The transfiguration is a narrative of two major doctrines of Christian life: the cross and glory wherein the theology of glory is inseparably intertwined to the theology of the cross. The scene depicts Jesus praying as heavenly bodies talk to him about his imminent pain, death, and resurrection while his disciples doze on the mountain of vision. As we continue to look into the passage where the identity of Jesus is unveiled,  I want us to approach it in six analytical steps toward examining the problems and solutions the text offers (including brief passages immediately surrounding today’s gospel reading).

I. The External Problem: Spiritual Slumber, Heedlessness

The disciples, in spite of this important incident, where they are invited to participate in the disclosure of God’s salvation plan, seem to be heedless and unprepared, allegedly due to
   1. The time of the day (probably night time, in which they usually go to bed),
   2. The tiredness involved in the trek (mountain climbing), and
   3. Apparently, Jesus’ prolonged prayer.

Their condition, however, may not be appropriate when seen against the background of Jesus’ intended purpose, which may include
   1. Revealing the identity and purpose of Jesus’ coming,
   2. Encouraging these particular disciples (in the inner circle) in their upcoming responsibility as key leaders in the ministry, and
   3. Acting as prayer companions as Jesus prepares for the “exodus,” and departure (suffering, crucifixion, and resurrection) in Jerusalem.

Here sleep may be understood as a faithless equivalent to vigilance in prayer. Later at Gethsemane, Jesus rebukes the disciples for their heedlessness in prayer: “Why do you sleep? Rise and pray that you may not enter into temptation” (Lk 22:46).  Who chooses to sleep on such an eventful night—a divine one? Such nights need special alertness, for as Elihu states: “Our maker gives songs in the night” (Job 35:10).

Their inattention has led them to misunderstand the event which they glimpsed only partially. By the time they wake up from their slumber, they will have already missed the first part, the crucial part: the words of Moses and Elijah to Jesus where they speak about his departure (lit. “exodus”), that is, his suffering, death, and resurrection. This means that they miss the cross which they were meant to see considering their unwillingness and/or unpreparedness to accept. We also remember Peter rebuking Jesus for telling them about His imminent suffering and death.

Their misunderstanding of the event was not without consequences. I see four ramifications:

The first is surrender to their own agenda (dwelling in the moment of glory), exaltation above the rest of the disciples and all earthly pains. This was clearly demonstrated in the question of greatness raised among the disciples or the position the mother of John and James requested for her sons when Jesus would come to his Kingdom. Yet it is not possible to dwell permanently in this moment of glory. Peter could have learned this right from where he stood—the mountain which slowly releases the dew it absorbed from the atmosphere as the  sun shines upon it.  Thus, the dew turns into a stream that flows to the dry valleys.  Mountain top experiences (dreams, epiphanies, and visions) always need to be connected to the lives in the valley where God wishes to pour his blessings. Only then can they bring significance to our entire experience in making the goal clear in the journey and at the same time helping us to see the tasks and struggles from new perspectives that give our lives purpose.

The second is knowing not what one speaks (v. 33). Cross-less talks are gibberish talks; they are quite misleading like flowery roads leading to death. Paul on the other hand determines to speak/preach nothing else but Christ crucified (1 Corinthians 1:23). Only in the light of the cross do we ever understand the character of God or the significance of Jesus.

The third is sinful silence (v. 36). According to Luke the silence seems to arise out of fear, a lack of faith which becomes sinful silence and unholy, a silence that emanates from a disappointment connected to the need to descend into the valley, leaving the mountain top experience behind. The hustle and bustle of self aggrandizement muffles the resounding evangelistic voice echoed in the holy mountains of revelation.

And the fourth and final ramification is to live below expectations, which is their inability to be agents of God’s blessing and healing to His people as depicted in their failure to heal the epileptic—(as in Luke 9:37-38).  Obsession with the self (the big I) equates to spiritual slumber. There are times when this spiritual slumber deprives us of seeing what we ought to see. Preoccupied and tired out by the responsibilities and burdens in our lives, we soon lose focus on life’s bigger picture which is serving others in the name of Christ. We are often tempted to put ourselves at the center. This sort of self love stifles not only our ability to see the full revelation, but also leads us into sinful silence and inaction in the face of injustice and death in which the whole creation languishes. Hence, the call is in place for us: “Awake, you who sleep, arise from the dead, and Christ will give you light” (Ephesians 5:14).

II. The Internal Problem: Faithlessness

The external problems we saw hitherto have an internal cause, in this case, fear /terror (v. 34) and faithlessness (v.41). The cloud which depicts the presence of God should have conveyed faith and joy, but to them it instigated fear and terror. Their hearts were filled with desire and competition for earthly gains. Their encounter with God of selfless love, therefore, has caused trembling and frustration rather than joy and jubilation. This lack of trust and confidence has resulted in all kinds of heedlessness, selfishness, and the inability to speak and act properly. The unbelief and the consequent restlessness of our hearts and thoughts often become the source of restlessness in our speech and action. We also may need to join the father of the epileptic boy in the Gospel of Mark, who cried:  “I believe; help my unbelief!” (Mk 9:24-25).

III. The Eternal Problem: Eternal Separation from the Presence of God (Death)

Unbelief leads to isolation and perdition as depicted in Jesus answer here: “O faithless and perverse generation, how long am I to be with you and bear with you?” (v. 41). This refers, I believe, not only to the crowd that was gathering around the epileptic boy who the disciples, reportedly, couldn’t heal, but even more so to the befuddled and distraught disciples.

Faithlessness is powerful at keeping the presence of God out of one’s life. This sort of unbelief finally, Luke tells us, led Peter to denial of his Lord and the rest of the disciples to deserting Him.  Luke clearly portrays this condition of the disciples–particularly in the life of the two who were on their way to Emmaus (representatives of the rest of the group, who were hiding out of fear) who remarked that “but we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel” (Lk 24:21). Their hope for earthly glory was shattered and with this their lives. Similarly, Ron Starenko aptly notes in his Sabbatheology article “Glory Lost, Glory Found” that “whatever glory we seek, whether in our efforts or accomplishments, which are fading, we are heading the wrong way, ultimately having no promise of life, no future, no continuity, as the pay-off is death, the final terrifying experience, glory lost forever.” [1]

IV. The Eternal Solution: Listen to Him!

We see God coming closer and closer to them: the messengers (Moses and Elijah), the cloud, the voice, and above all, His Son, who walked with them in spite of their doubt, fear, and perversity. God comes to us, for us and always loves to abide with us—Emmanuel, regardless of our slumber and frailty.

No more cloud of fear and terror but of God’s presence and guidance as it was for the Israelites in the wilderness: “By day the LORD went ahead of them in a pillar of cloud to guide them on their way” (Exodus 13:21). This in some way depicts the characteristic of Christ, who is a refuge to His people from the heat of a flaming law, the blazing sword of justice, the anger of God, the fiery darts of Satan; and who continues to lead his people through the wilderness by his Spirit, by his word, and by his own example; and who is the best Shepherd to follow.

Now it is not the voice of Moses or Elijah but the voice of the Son (the fulfillment of both the Law and the prophets) whom they need to listen to. No more confusion from the multiplicity of puzzling voices but a unique voice of the Good Shepherd that guides them through the wilderness.

V. The Internal Solution: Know the Voice

Now they know a voice—the voice they know. Now they trust a voice—the voice they trust. The voice expels fear and disbelief and guides them to rest and peace: As Jesus said: “When he has brought out all his own, he goes before them, and the sheep follow him, for they know his voice. A stranger they will not follow, but they will flee from him, for they do not know the voice of strangers” (Jn 10:4-5).

I once heard a story of a man who lost a couple of dogs to thieves who killed them with poisoned meat before robbing his house. But finally, this man trained his new dog in a way that it eats only after listening to the voice of his owner whenever the food comes on a plate or thrown over the fence. Thieves, ever since, have relentlessly tried their old trick on the new dog, but to no avail. The dog knew the voice of his master.

The voice of our Shepherd continually comes to us, as new men and women in Christ: through the reading and preaching of the word, the sacraments, through prayer, friends, creation, vision, dreams, and epiphanies: “For God does speak—now one way, now another—though man may not perceive it” (Job 33:14). Do we notice the voice of Christ, our shepherd, who always speaks to us and walks before us?

VI. The External Solution: Live According to the Voice!

This humble voice that guides them now is powerful enough to break the haughty cedars of self aggrandizing motifs and selfish living. “The voice of the Lord is powerful . . . The voice of the Lord breaks the cedars” (Ps 29:4-5). No more would they seek their own glory, but the glory of the one who called them to glory through the cross (theologia gloria via the theologia crucis): It enables these sons of thunder (“Boanerges”) to live for others a life of service rather than a life of wrath that once prayed for fire from heaven to destroy Samaritans who resist receiving them (Lk 9:54). At the end of their lives these Sons of Thunder became known for something else. James was the first apostle to be martyred. And John became known as the apostle of love.

They would no longer be unaware of what they spoke, as Peter did after seeing Moses and Elijah on the mountain of transfiguration. Peter and John’s fear was supplanted by a confidence from the Holy Spirit who speaks now through them even in the face of opposition from those who threaten them to keep silent about this Jesus whom they preach crucified and raised from the dead: “For we cannot help speaking about what we have seen and heard” (Acts 4:20).

Conclusion

Today, we too are indwelt by the Holy Spirit, Who fills us with confidence and moves us to speak and proclaim boldly the good news of God to all creation through Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord. We too are empowered by the same Spirit to descend the mountain of self- enhancement to the valley of pain and suffering to serve others humbly and joyfully.

May the heavenly love always shine upon us and melt our love of dwelling in mountain top experiences, prompting it to flow and go to the arid and dark valleys until they grow and glow. Amen.

[1] See http://www.crossings.org/theology/2013/default.html

In baptism we are anointed, like Jesus, and filled with the Spirit, like Jesus, to proclaim God’s good news to the broken and weak of the world, with God’s strength supporting us throughout, even when we meet resistance.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen, Fourth Sunday after Epiphany, year C; texts: Luke 4:[14-20] 21-30; Jeremiah 1:4-10

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

As I began to read the Gospel just now, some of you might have thought I turned to the wrong page.  Surely that was the Gospel we heard last week?  Well, it was (at least the first half was).  The lectionary divided this one episode at the start of Jesus’ ministry into two weeks, but to understand the second part, assigned for today, it’s important to hear what led up to it.

And reading the whole event together also helps make a deeper connection to the call of Jeremiah which began our words from Scripture this morning.  Because there is both joy and concern, both sending and opposition.  There are messengers of God and the threat of, and even reality of, enemies of those messengers.  Or of the message itself.  And if we’re to consider the one, we can’t ignore the other.

Today we baptize our young brother Felix John, and anoint him, praying the gift of the Holy Spirit on him.  Whenever we do this, we not only rejoice in this new sibling who joins our mission, who joins the ranks of the anointed ones of God sent into the world, whom we will see grow up among us into that call, we quite naturally are reminded of our own anointing and sending.  We speak it aloud in our welcome to Felix and to all whom we baptize in the name of the Triune God, welcoming him and them into the body of Christ and into the mission we share.

But both Jeremiah and Jesus, who also share such anointing, remind us today of what we often let slip out of our conscious thought: being sent by God to bring the Good News to the world is not necessarily an easy job.  It not only might meet with resistance, it almost certainly will, from outside, or from ourselves.

In some ways, we can find ourselves avoiding such resistance by being less active in our mission, our sending, than we could be.  We can be timid in our actions, shy in our proclaiming, quiet in our convictions.  There are often times when we feel a pull to act, to pray, to do, to serve, to get involved in one way or another, when we resist that pull because, either consciously or subconsciously, we are afraid of the consequences that might result.

What God suggests to us by way of Jeremiah is that there is a better way.  Rather than dodge our call or duck from it, we could choose to embrace it.  Rather than fearing what might happen if we did something, said something, acted on something, we could believe the powerful truth that the Triune God who anointed and sent us has not sent us alone, but goes with us, giving us all the love and support, and guidance and direction we need to faithfully fulfill our mission.

So to begin our exploring of this path God offers Jeremiah, and us, we begin as we all began, with Baptism, and the certainty of our own anointing.

Luke is the only evangelist who gives these important details to Jesus’ first visit to his hometown as a rabbi: Luke says that Jesus is filled with the power of the Holy Spirit, and he claims his anointing as God’s servant.  It’s a powerful claim: I am the servant of God Isaiah foretold, he says.  Quite a first sermon for him to deliver to his own people.

He claims that the Spirit of the Lord is upon him, which Luke the narrator has already told us.  And that he, Jesus, their kid from the hometown, is anointed by God to bring “good news to the poor,” sent by God to “proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind,” and sent to “let the oppressed go free, and to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”

These were important words to Israel, words of promise that God would come with an Anointed One who would bring about such grace and healing to the chosen people.  So at the beginning of his ministry, Jesus declares he is the fulfilling of that promise to Israel, that, as he said, “today this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”

But what’s also important for us to know is that Luke believes the same about the Church, and therefore about us: we are so anointed, we are so filled with the power of the Spirit.  Throughout his Gospel he points to these realities of Jesus, but in Acts he says the same thing about the Church.  The Church, the believers, is filled with the power of the Spirit at Pentecost, a power that continues to be poured out on new believers as they are baptized.  So throughout Acts, more and more people are anointed by the Holy Spirit, just as Jesus was.

And from the beginning of Acts to the end, the Church is called to the same mission, the same outreach Jesus was called to do.  But there’s a twist in Luke 4 and in Acts, a twist Jesus now shares with his fellow Nazareth residents: this mission is not just to Israel.  It is to all people.

This causes problems for him, as we’ll see in a moment, but for now let’s recognize that the dual mission of Jesus after being anointed by God and filled with the Spirit, a mission both to Israel and to all the Gentiles, is precisely the mission of the Church in Acts.  This message of healing to the broken of the world is for all people, both for Jesus and for us.

But as Jeremiah would learn, and Jesus learns in this very story, being the anointed of God, bringing Good News to poor and downtrodden folks, Good News which also applies to outsiders, can rile up the insiders, even the less than powerful ones.

As we’ve already seen, though we’re early in our year with Luke, there is no secret in Luke’s mind about Jesus’ identity or his mission.  From the start he is identified as Son of God, filled with the Holy Spirit.  And from the start, his mission is both to the Jews, the chosen people of God, and to the Gentiles, the rest of the world.  It is comprehensive.

Luke doesn’t follow Matthew and Mark in this, who tell a story of a meeting Jesus had later in his ministry with a foreign woman who wanted healing for her daughter.  In that encounter, Jesus seems to have his mind opened to the possibility that his mission is beyond just the Jewish people.  Luke doesn’t tell this story.  As we heard in Nazareth today, Luke believes that Jesus understood this expansive mission from the very beginning.

And so Jesus launches into a bit of a rant which marvels at God’s goodness in healing foreigners over Israelites.   Though there were many starving widows in Israel in the multi-year drought that happened during the time of the prophet Elijah, the only one we know who was fed by God was the foreign woman from Zarephath, Jesus says.  And though there were many lepers in Israel at the time of the prophet Elisha, the only one we know was healed was Naaman the Syrian.

It’s as if Jesus is forcing the people of Nazareth to face his anointing as for all the people of the world, not just them.  So the good news to the poor, the release to the captives, the sight to the blind, the freedom for the oppressed, all these things are for all God’s people.

And for Jesus as well as for us, that’s not always going to be well-received.  Any time people speak out for the voiceless, for the outsider, for those for whom God has a particular love and care, there is resistance.

In our politics, people who claim to be concerned about spending and don’t want the government to offer help to the least of our society don’t blink an eye when the government spends billions to subsidize corporations.  But those who speak to the powerful about the powerless are often pushed aside, ignored, even ostracized.

To free the oppressed, heal the wounded, release the captives, welcome the outsider, requires a great deal of courage.  Consider just the immigration debate.  For years compassionate cries to care for real human beings who have lived among us and contributed to our society for years have been met with by angry shouts and outcries of “keep those people out.”

And standing up for those who are most in need can often be uncomfortable, risk friendships, cost time and energy, and put us into situations where people misunderstand or even hate us.  Jesus’ own people wanted to kill him.

Maybe that won’t happen to us.  But lots of people get death threats in this country for doing the right thing, for speaking up.  For witnessing to God’s love where it needs to be said.  Even if we aren’t threatened in this way, which both Jeremiah and Jesus were by the way, we are threatened by the costs to our lives that such witness and work would bring.

We can measure those costs in lots of different ways, and their impact on our lives.  But sometimes the cost is just taking time to do something rather than staying silent.  How many of us regularly, or ever, contact our state representatives to express concern or support for legislation that will make a difference in other people’s lives?

We’re sending letters for Bread for the World today, as a part of an ongoing effort to effect societal and legislative changes that will have a direct impact on reducing hunger and poverty.  How many of us walk past the tables every year that we do this at Mount Olive, thinking, “that’s not for me”?

There seems to be a fear inside us to actually live fully into this call, this anointing.

In our rite of baptismal affirmation we always promise to strive for justice and peace in all the earth, and to serve all people, following the example of Jesus.  We say this because in baptism we were anointed to do that very thing.  In affirming our baptism, we are saying we’ll do what we’ve been sent to do.

But somehow we don’t often actually do much striving in that way.  Maybe we’re indifferent.  That really can’t be an option, as we make these promises pretty often, and it’s what we’re called to do, what we’ve said we’ll do.  But maybe we’re afraid at various levels of what it will cost to be such an anointed servant.  If that’s the case, then we have some good news.

Our hope is found in God’s word to Jeremiah, which Luke speaks of in his theology of the pouring out of the Holy Spirit: God will be with us.  We are Godsent.

Jeremiah protests that he’s not the right person for this job, and God says, “don’t be afraid.  I am with you.”  Do not fear, God says, and it’s more than we might think.

Sometimes we think all those expressions in the Bible which say not to fear are meant to ease our fear of what might happen to us, dangers that might befall.  Fear of evil, fear of tragedy, fear of the world.

But God’s word to Jeremiah is not about a passive fear (fearing things that might happen.)  It’s about a fear of being active, of doing something and having it all go wrong.  For us, it would be fear of being pro-active in our Christian call and anointing.  Fear of doing, for whatever reason.

And to Jeremiah and to us, God says, “don’t be afraid.  I will be with you.”  Do what you are called to do, what I sent you to do, without fear of anything – reprisal, inconvenience, loss of time or wealth, whatever – do not fear because I do not send you out alone.

Remember, all who are anointed to do God’s call are anointed with the Holy Spirit.  We are filled with the very breath of God to do what we are called to do.  We go with the Triune God moving within us in strength, love, and power.

There’s a common expression, where people say to another, “you are a Godsend.”  That’s exactly what we are.  Godsent.  People who bear in our hearts and lives the very strength of the Spirit of God, to bring good news to the poor, release to the captives, freedom to the oppressed, healing to those who are wounded or broken.  We can do this because we do not do this alone.  That’s what God says to Jeremiah, that’s what Jesus understood, and that’s our absolute promise.

And though we do not know how our anointed life will play out, and even what adversity we might encounter, we know it is our life.

And more to the joy of our hearts, we know that God goes with us.

There is a prayer which in our last two worship books has been one of the collects that could be used at the ending of Vespers (Evening Prayer).  This has become beloved to many as a result.  It comes from Eric Milner-White and G. W. Briggs, and has only been in print since the mid-nineteen-fifties, but was already also included in The Service Book and Hymnal, though not at Vespers.  The prayer reads:

“O God, you have called your servants to ventures of which we cannot see the ending, by paths as yet untrodden, through perils unknown.  Give us faith to go out with good courage, not knowing where we go, but only that your hand is leading us and your love supporting us; through Jesus Christ our Lord.” [1]

Give us faith to go out with good courage . . . knowing only that your hand is leading us and your love supporting us.  That’s all we need.  There’s much unknown in our calling, much we could fear, but we are called, anointed and sent by the Triune God, whose love and care and strength and guidance are with us always.

And who says to us, as he did to Jeremiah: “Do not be afraid, for I am with you.  Now, go.”

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

[1] Eric Milner-White and G. W. Briggs, Daily Prayer, © 1946 Oxford University Press, under the title “The Call of Abraham.”  No author is cited, so it is presumably from the two editors.  (Included in SBH in a list of collects for various needs [this one was “For Guidance”], and in LBW and ELW as one of the collects at the end of Vespers.)

God’s written Word, the Scriptures, shape us in the relationship the Triune God is creating in us through the life, death and resurrection of the Son.  Ancient and strange as these words are, they lead us to our Lord Jesus and to life.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen, Third Sunday after Epiphany, year C; texts: Nehemiah 8:1-10; Psalm 19; Luke 4:14-21

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

We are a strange and peculiar people who do a strange and peculiar thing.  I don’t know if you noticed it or not, but we just did it, right now.  The difficulty is that we’ve seen it done so often we’ve come not to consider it odd.  You and I heard three people read from an ancient Book.  We gathered together today and asked three people, a lector, an assisting minister, and the presiding minister, to open and read from a book that in its newest part is nearly 2,000 years old, but in its oldest is closer to 4,000 years old.  We also sang together a song from that book that has been sung pretty continually by human beings for nearly 3,000 years.

More to the point, we asked people to read these old words to us today because we have agreed amongst ourselves, and with people like us in the world, that these elderly texts are actually words from the God who made all things.  We asked people today to read these words because we also have decided and believed, along with many like us in the world, that these ancient readings matter to our lives.  And you have called me to the task of now speaking to you about these words, as if these words should and do matter to us in our lives.

But do we understand how strange and foreign this is?  How unusual we are?  We Christians are not people who find God by gazing at our navels.  We don’t find God by using mind-altering substances.  We don’t find God in the desires of our heart, even, or in our hopes and dreams.  In fact, we Christians do not believe we even find God.  We believe the God who made all things finds us, seeks us out, and does this in a large part through these ancient words.  Though these words are millennia old, we believe they also were written for us.

And so, we are people of the Book, as are our Jewish and Muslim sisters and brothers.  We are connected most tightly to the belief not that God is found anywhere, but that God, and God’s plan, and all we need to know about God, can be found in a two to four thousand year old book.  And that is very strange.  And unfamiliar to the secular world in which we live.

If we’re not able to stop for a moment and recognize how utterly different from the culture what we do here is, what we do when we open a Bible in our homes or study it, when we seek out preaching, we risk taking for granted that we actually believe these words will change us, move us, matter to us.  And we risk losing the very truth to which these old words will lead us.

When we consider Ezra and Jesus, however, we see a familiar sight, and begin to understand once more.

In Nehemiah 8, the scribe Ezra stands on a wooden tower built over the people and reads to them from the law of God.  (Which sounds a lot like what I’m doing right now.)  This is after the exile, as we heard this morning, “the people of Israel [were now] settled in their towns.”

Ezra and Nehemiah are among those scribes who are determined to help Israel correct the problems which led to Babylon’s destruction of their nation and their Temple.  To do this, they need the people to hear God’s Word again, and since the people speak a different dialect or even language, and since they want all to be sure to understand, they intersperse the crowd with interpreters, other scribes and Levites, to help people know what’s going on.

The people are so overwhelmed by hearing God’s Word, they weep.  But Ezra encourages a different reaction.  He encourages them to be filled with joy, for they are hearing from God, and this joy should provide them great strength.  Ezra wants them to hear and obey, and they do.  But he also wants them to see the joy of having the Word of God read to them, and explained.

And look what happens when Jesus comes to his hometown, early in his ministry.  He goes to synagogue on the Sabbath, as was his custom, Luke reminds.  But notice this: at the synagogue, the people, his neighbors and friends, people who saw him grow to adulthood, do not ask, “Jesus, tell us about your view of the world.  Tell us what you’ve been doing, your experiences.  Tell us what you think of life.”

No.  They give him a scroll, and say, “read it.  Read it.”  They ask him to give them the Word.  They are Jews, after all.  They say, “read this to us.”  And so he does.  And remarkably, like the people of Ezra’s time, they expect that it will be important to them.  They wait afterward, like with Ezra, for preaching to come, for explanation, based on that Word.  These ancient words are central to what they want from Jesus.

And so it is with you, and your expectations of me.  You did not call me to come here and share my views of the world.  To philosophize and share my wisdom.  When you come here on Sundays, you don’t want me to read my latest essay on the human condition.  There are lots of folks who write blogs on the Internet or essays in papers online and in print, people who say what they think about life and the world.  Some are good, others not.

But that’s not what you have called me to Mount Olive to do.  No, when I first came here, and now even today, you gave me a book.  You gave me the Bible.  You called me to be your pastor because I am ordained a minister of Word and Sacrament.  And you said to me, and still say, “read this Book, this Word to us.  Then, help us to know it better.”

We are people of the Book.  God’s Book.  Nothing bothers us more about preaching than when we hear a sermon where the pastor preaches with no reference to the Scriptures at all.  We want to hear these ancient words.  And then we want the preacher to help us understand them, like Ezra, like Jesus, because we believe they matter to our very life.

And that’s because, unlike any other words, we believe these words not only bring us life, they lead us to God.

This is very different from other words, new or ancient, and other readings.

Three years ago Mary and I visited Hannah in Nottingham, England, where she was studying for a year.  We were able to join her and her other classmates from Luther at a production in the town of Stratford-on-Avon, at the theater of the Royal Shakespeare Company, a production of one of Shakespeare’s comedies.  It was wonderful.  These skilled actors spoke 500-year-old words and made them alive, they brought life and light to our evening, laughter and tears, joy.

This was a night we’ll remember for a long time.  But though we heard these ancient words and found good in them, it was and is a very different thing from how we come before the written Word of God.  Literature, essays, plays, movies, drawings, photographs, sculptures, many human creations and art forms inspire and move us.  I’ve seen some beautiful art in my life, read some transformative works.

But while they teach us about the human condition, about ourselves, about life, even about good and evil, while they help us grow and become better people, while they challenge us in many ways, there is one thing that we do not claim about them.  We do not claim or believe that they are God’s revelation to us which leads us to know definitively what God is doing in the world.

That, however, is what we claim about this book we call the Bible.  There isn’t time here to fully consider why Christians, like our sisters and brothers of other faiths, attach such meaning to these particular ancient words.  It’s worth a conversation, though, and worth our thought and consideration.

But for today, what we can say is that we continue in a line of believers that stretches back over 3,500 years or more, who have seen and experienced in these words the very voice of God.  Who have claimed that the God of the universe speaks to us through these words and leads us to life and salvation, calls to us, challenges us, judges us, loves us.

We stand in the same line as Thomas Cranmer, whose collect from the 1552 Book of Common Prayer is appointed as our Prayer of the Day today, which says that God has given us these Scriptures for our nourishment and life.  And so we ask God to help us “hear them, read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest them.”  That we take these words literally to heart, to our guts, to the core of our very being (for as the psalmist says they taste sweeter than honey), so that they might change us and shape us.

And the primary reason we need these words to do that is that it is these words which lead us to our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, the Living Word of God who saves us.  Each of the books of the Bible works together with the others ultimately to show us what the Son of God was and is doing in the world for God’s creation.

There’s an old Communion hymn that didn’t make the cut from the green book to our new worship book, which begins “Here, O my God, I see thee face to face.”  That’s why these words are different from any other for us.  That’s why we gather week after week to hear them.  That’s why we pick up our Bibles for study and daily prayer, something we never do with Shakespeare, beautiful as his writing may be.

Because here, in these words, as we encounter them daily, we see our Lord face to face and find his love for us, his grace, his invitation.  These become words by which we live and die, words which change everything for us.

We are a strange people.

We are strange people, we with this book we call God’s Word.  And though it may seem strange to the rest of our society, it is the place where we can find our Lord, just as the people of Nazareth saw him, revealed as the anointed One of God who brings healing and life to the world.

But now, of course, the real work begins.  Knowing that we agree this is the Triune God’s voice for us, leading us to the Son, now we must read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest together.  We will disagree at times about what we are hearing from God.  We will not always understand.  But such is the power of this written Word of God, this gift the Spirit helps us with, that when we do make mistakes of reading, of understanding, of interpretation, the Word continues to work in and among us and correct us, to bring us back to God’s path.  It has done so often in the past, and will continue to do so with the help of the Spirit.

So we do this together, and with sisters and brothers in the Church around the world, and trust that our Lord the Living Word will open our hearts and minds to know what we need to know for life.

So strange as it may seem, this is why we do what we do.  Because the God of the universe has spoken to us in these words, and led us to the Son of God who gives life to us and the world.  There is nothing more important for us to know, to hear, to take in.  It is our blessing to do this.  It is our blessing to share this with the world.  Thanks be to God for this gift!

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

The abundance of God’s grace is revealed to the world in the Incarnate Son of God who first reveals that abundance in the changing of water into wine, the bringing of the extraordinary joy of God’s presence to the ordinary things of our lives.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen, Second Sunday after Epiphany, year C; texts: John 2:1-11

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

There is sometimes a spirit among the people of the United States (and perhaps other peoples, but this is where we live and have experienced it) that seems to be afraid of not having enough.  Perhaps it comes from the shaping of the Great Depression, but we seem too easily to step into the trap of thinking we’re tight on what we need, that things are short, and we’d better look out for ourselves, despite our having so much more than the majority of our fellow human beings.  This spirit shows itself in a fierce hatred of taxes among some, even if those taxes make life better for all citizens (building roads and schools, for example), and especially if those taxes help others in deeper need than we ourselves.  It shows itself in a meanness of self-centered concerns in voting, in a selfish withholding of grace and forgiveness to others, as if we diminish the supply if we pour it out on people we don’t think deserve it, and in a fear of losing what we have so that we cling to our ways and our things with white-knuckled hands.

Yet others, even many among us in our country and in our midst, somehow have a sense of abundance, even in times of want.  These are people who amaze and astonish us with their graciousness, their open-handedness, in material and spiritual things.  People who always seem to have something to share with another person, even if they themselves seem deprived.  People whose joy at being forgiven and loved compels them to love others no matter what.  These people inspire us to consider that perhaps, with a different way of seeing and thinking about our lives and our world, we, too, could know such joy and peace.

Today we celebrate the third manifestation of Epiphany, a manifestation the Church has long linked to the other two we’ve celebrated the past two weeks, which is why we decided to extend our Epiphany white an extra week into the green season.  In this manifestation the adult Son of God reveals his glory.  In making a party more abundant.  In making sure there’s enough wine to extend the joviality and festivities.  There are many who wish to dismiss this action as trivial, trying to understand why Jesus would do such a thing, for in the big picture of the suffering of life, who cares about having enough wine?  But John the Evangelist says this is pivotal, this is the “first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee, and [he] revealed his glory.”  John suggests we pay close attention to this raucous party, and particularly to our Lord’s participation in it.

There’s a lovely moment in this story when the steward says about this new wine, “this is the good stuff.”  Perhaps that’s what our Lord invites us to see as we encounter this, the first revelation of his glory.  Perhaps our Lord needs us to see the “good stuff,” the abundance that God has given us and the world, rather than continue to grumble that we might run out of what we need some day.

John seems to be speaking of more than just the first sign among many miracles when he says, “this was the first.”  Because in John’s Gospel, when the Incarnate Son arrives, abundance flows, and it’s always far from unimportant.

At Cana, this first sign is excessive and beyond what is needed: even if a party is running out of wine, even if it is, as were wedding feasts in those days, a three day affair, would they really need between 120 and 180 gallons of wine?  And wonderful wine at that?

But that’s the best part of the story, isn’t it?  (Well, apart from the wonderful give and take that Mary and her son Jesus have.)  But this is the glory of this sign: the groom and his family need more wine so as not to be embarrassed before their neighbors and friends.  Jesus gives them more wine than they could begin to consume in weeks of celebrating.  So the glory revealed here is that when the Triune God, Incarnate in the Son, comes to a party, there’s not only enough for all.  There’s beyond enough.  And it’s all good stuff, fine vintage.

But such abundance anchors the entire Gospel of John, beginning, middle and end.  Central to the story of Jesus’ ministry in John is the story of the feeding of 5,000 plus, a story all four Evangelists tell, but one which only John expands into a deep, critical meditation on the gift of Jesus himself.

But to start with, it’s a Cana party, all over again.  There’s no food, well, except for a little boy’s lunch, and many are hungry.  The disciples, in the role of Mary, ask Jesus what is to be done.  And just as at Cana, Jesus acts as if he doesn’t know what he will do, here questioning Philip as to what he thinks should be done.  But then he has the disciples seat the people, and feeds them from five loaves and two fish.

Nothing is said about the quality of the sandwiches, as was said at Cana about the wine, but as at Cana, there’s not just enough for all.  There’s far more than enough.  Twelve baskets are filled with the leftovers.  These are hungry, poor people.  If there are that many leftovers, it is only because they were satiated, satisfied, filled.  And once more, the glory revealed here is that when the Triune God, Incarnate in the Son, comes to a picnic, there’s not only enough for all.  There’s beyond enough.

When we move to the end of the Gospel of John, once more we see a sign like this, after Jesus’ resurrection.  Seven disciples have left Jerusalem and returned to Galilee, for reasons John doesn’t explain.  They fish all night, at Peter’s insistence, and catch nothing.  Luke tells a similar story at the beginning of Jesus’ ministry.  But John says the same thing happened here.

Because when they start rowing to shore in the morning, with empty nets, they see Jesus on the shore (though they don’t know it is he.)  And he once more acts as if he doesn’t know what will happen, and asks them if they’ve caught anything.  When they say no, he invites them to try the right side of the boat.  And they catch so many fish they aren’t able to haul the net in.

When they come to shore, Peter having swum in since he now knows it’s Jesus, they have breakfast with their Lord, using these fish they caught.  But John adds a detail which I used to think odd: he says they caught 153 large fish.  Why, I have wondered, does the number and size matter?

But in the light of Cana, and the feeding of 5,000, I think I understand: once again we not only have enough, we have more than enough.  Eight people for breakfast, 153 large fish.  That’s what the Son of God does.  Once again, the glory revealed here is that when the Triune God, Incarnate in the Son, comes to a fishing expedition, there’s not only enough for all.  There’s beyond enough.

So if, in spite of this abundance of stories about God’s abundance, we still have that sense that we don’t have enough, maybe that’s because we aren’t seeing properly.

In all three of these revelations of abundance, there are people who can’t see what’s happened.
Only the disciples and the servants know the truth about the wine, not the bridegroom, nor the steward, nor the wedding guests.

In John 6, Jesus spends a great deal of time talking about the feeding of the 5,000 and it’s clear that even the disciples don’t really realize what happened there, and certainly not Jesus’ opponents.

And whatever the seven disciples in Galilee thought about the breakfast on the beach after Jesus’ resurrection, I never fully understood the 153 fish until now, in spite of the fact that this encounter is one of the stories that norm and shape my faith and life.  It just seemed an odd detail to include.

So the question in our lives seems to be not “do we have enough,” but “are we actually sure we’re seeing clearly what we have?”

And our vision is related to our expectations.

If we have an idea of how much money we need in the bank to be secure, and we don’t have that much, we will be insecure.  If we, however, can see how to get by on much less than we normally would think, then we have a completely different vision along with a different attitude.

If we have an idea that all things need to be good and happy and whole for us to be happy and fulfilled, then when things are hard or broken or painful, we will feel miserable.  If, however, we recognize the promise that God is with us always, even in our hard times, our painful times, then whether we are rich or poor, whether all things are going well or all things are falling apart, “whether we live or whether we die,” as Paul says, we realize we are the Lord’s.

If we have an idea of what the “good stuff” is that is based on the world’s evaluation – the best of things money can buy, the finest things in the world – then if we aren’t able to have such things we will be dissatisfied with our life and our lot.  But when a man dying of thirst in a desert finds a pool of brackish water that most would consider unfit to drink, it tastes like the finest spring water, cool and refreshing.  It’s all about one’s point of view.  What God provides us is far more than brackish water.  But if we are expecting the world’s standard of “good stuff,” we might miss the incredible abundance of riches God actually gives.

What Jesus’ manifestation at Cana invites us to do is see God’s action differently, and begin to lose our fear.

And so as we gather here once more to worship the Triune God, we gather to be fed with an embarrassment of abundance.  To be blessed by the gracious Word of God in speech, song, and prayer, filling us with the good news of God’s love for us and the world.  A good news which transforms our lives forever.

We gather to be blessed by the Meal of Life our Lord gives us, filling us also with the good news of God’s love for us and the world.  Once more, Jesus transforms the ordinary, this bread and wine, into the extraordinary grace of his crucified and risen life, his forgiveness, life and love that is ours and the world’s in this meal.

We gather to be blessed by the presence of our Lord himself as promised in these people around us, yet again filling us with the good news of God’s love for us and the world.  That the abundance of God’s love and grace abide in us and in each other and that we are sent, filled, graced, loved, to fill, grace, and love the world in God’s name, abundantly and eternally.

And when we see God acting in such abundance, abundant grace, abundant goods, abundant life, we also begin to live as if there will always be enough, instead of fearing we are falling short.  We learn to rejoice at the many ways God cares for us and the world, and learn to see abundance where it really is.  And let our fears subside by opening our hands to share. And so we become part of God’s abundance in our fearlessness.

So we see that in each of these abundance stories, the people bring something to God, share something, which is then blessed to expand in dramatic, ridiculous ways.

Jars are filled to brimming with water, the stuff of life, and Jesus transforms it into glorious wine, flowing beyond belief.

A boy has a small lunch to share, nothing, really, but the stuff of life for him, and Jesus transforms it into food for all, and more to spare.

The disciples work all night and catch nothing, but offer their work one more time at Jesus’ instruction, and Jesus transforms an empty net into a net bursting with goodness and food, more than they could begin to eat.

And so it is with us, when we have learned to trust God to provide, we offer what we have to let God so transform it that the world is filled to the brim with God’s goodness.  We are a part of God’s astonishing abundance by wasting less, taking less, learning to share with our sisters and brothers so that all might have enough, learning not to be afraid, beginning to see God’s abundance for all.  Through our new vision and lack of fear, God works not only to fill us to the brim, but to fill others as well, that all might live.

The “Good Stuff” is everywhere when the Triune God, Incarnate in the Son, is among us.  That’s what we see today and always.

May God open our eyes to see this revelation, this manifestation which continues in our midst, that we might see the abundance God has poured out on us and on the world.  And may the Spirit of God so empower us that we become signs of that foolish, frivolous, and life-giving abundance to all we meet and see, signs of the love of the Incarnate Son among us, who, when he comes to a party makes it so there’s not only enough for all.  There’s beyond enough, astonishingly so.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

Water, wind and fire have the power to kill, and the power to bring new life. In Baptism, we encounter the power of those elements and are given peace with God and strength to face our challenges in the world.

Vicar Neal Cannon, Baptism of our Lord, year C, texts: Luke 3:15-22, Psalm 29, Isaiah 43:1-7

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

Every outdoorsman knows that we are subject to the elements. Wind, water, and fire can be your best friend, or your worst enemy.

During the summers in college I worked at a Bible Camp called Camp Vermillion in northern Minnesota. Along with their regular day-camp program, Vermillion also led trips into the Boundary Waters Canoe Area. One Summer I decided to become a BWCA canoe guide. I wanted to have adventures in the wilderness.

I had never been an outdoorsy type person before, so I was nervous about this, but I had taken a few staff trips into the BWCA and loved it. I loved dipping my toes into a crisp, cool, glassy lake in the mornings. I loved the feeling of a strong breeze at your back as you dig your paddle into the water and pull yourself forward towards your next campsite. And I loved warming my feet by a fire at the end of the day as you sit with good friends and share a story.

But as I quickly learned as a guide, you know there is another side to the elements that can be challenging as well.

That strong wind that started at your back becomes a gale force howl in your face, or worse, at your side. And all of a sudden the cool crisp waters that you found so refreshing in the morning become rough and choppy wakes that threaten to tip your canoe into icy cold water. And so you dig your paddle in the water, but each stroke feels like you’re stirring cement and for every inch you propel forward, it feels like you go two inches back.

And then when you finally get to your campsite, the rains begin, and in the distance you hear a faint rumbling and you pray it doesn’t come any closer. Because of the rain, there will be no fire tonight, unless of course a stray branch of lightning hits an area of the blow down a hundred miles to the north, and starts a dangerous forest fire.

Of course, you don’t have to be an outdoorsman to realize the power and awesomeness of nature. This spring in Duluth one colossal rain storm flooded the city so badly that entire streets sank. And on the news we’re always hearing the story of how a hurricane leveled a city or how a fire burned an entire community to the ground.

The elements are powerful. They have the power to aid and sustain us, but they also have the power to destroy and hinder us.

That’s what strikes me most about our text today. There is this sense that the elements are threatening us at times, aiding us at other times, but our God is Lord of it all. As our Psalm tells us,

“The voice of the LORD is over the waters; the God of glory thunders, the LORD, over mighty waters. The voice of the LORD is powerful; the voice of the LORD is full of majesty. The voice of the LORD flashes forth flames of fire. The voice of the LORD causes the oaks to whirl, and strips the forest bare; and in his temple all say, ‘Glory!’ ”

Today is the Baptism of our Lord and this baptism is full of the elements. For example, when John the Baptist is asked by the people if he is the Messiah, he responds, “I baptize you with water. But one who is more powerful than I will come, the straps of whose sandals I am not worthy to untie. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.”

John sets the stage for us here. He’s basically saying, “if you think I’m good, there’s someone coming who’s better. If you think being baptized with water is powerful, then wait until you’re baptized with fire.”

But sometimes, I think that John is selling short the power of baptism with water. We often think of water and baptism in kind terms. Water cleanses us. Water sustains us. Water gives us life.

But we forget that water also destroys. We drown in water. Water can destroy our homes and roads. Too much water ruins fields and crops. Water can be deadly.

Martin Luther understood the power of water in baptism. He once wrote, “These two parts, to be sunk under the water and drawn out again, signify the power and operation of Baptism, which is nothing else than putting to death the old Adam and after that, the resurrection of the new man.”

Luther says that baptism kills us and brings us to life. It’s not that John didn’t understand this. John wanted to kill our sinfulness through baptism. He’s known for saying things like, “Repent and be saved all ye sinners!”  John wants our sinfulness to die. But it seems as though John expects the Messiah’s baptism to kill our sinfulness even more as he says in our text today, “The grains of wheat he gathers into his barn, but chaff the Messiah will burn with unquenchable fire!!!”  And we’re left wondering, “Am I the grain, or the chaff?”  To hear John tell it, the Messiah will bring more fire and anger and judgment into the world. So this makes me wonder if John understands fully the power of fire.

When we think of fire, we often think of its destructive power. Fire burns, fire destroys, fire melts. But often we don’t consider the positive elements of fire. The campfire dries our socks by at night, fire from the sun warms our planet, fire cooks our food. Without fire, there would be no life.

Plus, the image of fire in the Bible is often used in an empowering, not destroying context. During Pentecost we will hear the story of the tongues of fire coming down on the apostles, and in the Old Testament God appears to Moses in a burning bush that is not consumed by the fire.

So when John says that the Holy Spirit will come to Jesus with fire, he talks about the power of that fire to destroy, but neglects to mention how that might also give us life.

Then at the end of the reading, we learn something interesting. The Holy Spirit, the same fire that John mentions, comes to Jesus in the form of a dove. Now there are a couple of significant things about this.

In the Bible, the dove is a sign of good tidings. When God floods the world, Noah sends out a dove from the ark and when the dove comes back with an olive branch in its mouth, Noah knows that the waters are receding from the earth and God will save them. Thus the dove is a sign of peace, between God and humanity.

This is ironic because John says the Messiah will bring more judgment and instead, he brings more peace. What’s more, in the New Testament, the word for Holy Spirit is pneuma (nooma). While this is usually translated as Holy Spirit, the more literal translation is actually wind, or breath.

It’s where we get the term pneumatic device, or a device that transfers air or gas from one object to another. So when we’re talking about the Holy Spirit, what we’re actually talking about is the breath of God or the wind of God being like a dove of peace being transferred from God into Jesus.

In Jesus’ baptism, the breath, and wind, and fire of God descend on Jesus from heaven like a dove when he is baptized with … water. These elements symbolize death and life and they are sealed with a sign of peace. And in this baptism, Jesus is empowered to begin His ministry on Earth.

This happens for us too.

One thing about being in the wilderness is you become keenly aware of how you are transformed by the elements. You become inexorably changed and shaped to go out into the world once you’ve passed through wind, water and fire.

Some of my best and most challenging moments in the BWCA were fighting with my group to get across the lake on a gusty day or huddling with the group on the side of a hill as the thunderstorm passed overhead.

At first, you feel like the elements are going to kill you, your muscles ache from paddling, a bolt of lightning strikes nearby, but then, by the grace of God, you make it to your campsite, and the storms pass overhead, and the skies clear.

You are reminded that the water, and the wind and the fire didn’t kill you, they made you stronger. And this takes away your fear so that the next day when the winds come, and the rain pours, and the lightning crashes, you’re ready to face the challenge again.

This is what baptism is doing in our life. It is killing our sinfulness and our fear and in? its place we’re strengthened daily to overcome the next obstacle and go on our next adventure. And it’s in these moments that the words of Isaiah are especially potent in our lives.

“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you. For I am the LORD your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior.”

What I love about this verse from Isaiah is that you get this sense that God searched us out, and is searching us out. God is calling our names and finding us in our struggles.

So in those moments when we feel depressed, sad, alone, confused, those times in life where we feel like for every inch we move ourselves forward, we’re pushed two inches back. Then we remember that God brings us through the water and fire and wind to be redeemed. We remember that God gives us the Holy Spirit in baptism and Jesus dies for us on the cross. The Trinity crosses rivers and oceans and fires to bring us to salvation.

In this we’re given the strength to believe and hope that we can overcome anything that life throws at us. God never lets us go backwards, but continually draws us deeper into the Trinity with the promise that he will see us through to our salvation.

Remembering our baptism in this way helps us to face our fears, and our trials.

For example, have you ever had that moment in your life where you worried whether or not you were going to heaven?  You’re scared that you’ve done something so wrong that God would never forgive you?

What if every time we passed that baptismal font we were reminded that we were given the Holy Spirit as a dove, and a sign of the peace that God has made with us.

What if we marked ourselves with the sign of the cross to remember that God has crossed oceans to be with us, and there is nothing we can do to separate ourselves from him.

Or have you ever felt like you’re too weak to take on the next challenge?

Maybe you’re in a toxic relationship that you need to get out of or maybe a life-giving one you can get into.
Maybe you need a new line of work, or to rededicate yourself to the old.
Maybe you’re scared to talk about your faith with people because you’re afraid of how you’ll be perceived.

Then, just maybe, touching that water would remind us that the same water, and fire and Spirit that strengthened and prepared Jesus Christ for ministry … is with us.

Do not fear, says the LORD, for I have redeemed you.

This is the promise of Baptism – that whatever trials we are facing in our lives, whatever it is we fear in our death, that the Triune God is redeeming us, bringing us new life.

So go forward with the confidence that the LORD sits enthroned over the elements. So when the fires come you will not be burned, when the waters rage you will not drown. And when the winds blow, you will not be pushed back. And know in your baptism the Triune God gives you strength and peace to face your next challenge, and begin your next adventure.

Thanks be to God.