God’s Love Calls Us To Belonging

By Rev. Kelly Nieman Anderson
Given July 27, 2025

Throughout July, we’ve been reflecting together on how God’s love calls us to live.  In today’s scriptures, God’s love calls us to belonging. In Luke, Jesus teaches us that prayer is a loving conversation between God and us.  The Colossians passage reminds us how to live prayerfully, reflecting God’s love within the Christian communities to which we belong.

Our Christian life is full of prayers, from Sunday School to Seminary, and from baptism to funerals.  When we pray with others, we learn that each person, and each community has their own way of praying. In this way, prayers demonstrate how we understand God’s love for us, and how we experience God’s love together.

Each family, I’ve learned, has their own prayer traditions, taught and repeated in a variety of ways.  Shortly after my marriage, I became the designated prayer leader for my husband’s family gatherings.  This continued for years and years, even as I attended seminary and then began pastoring churches.

Then, a few years ago, one of our nephews learned to pray in his Catholic preschool, and was ready to teach all of us the prayers.  We all silently bowed our heads while he karate-chopped the sign of the cross and recited something we barely understood.  But, frankly, that prayer was more heartfelt and more meaningful than any “professional” prayer could ever be.  He’s been the designated family pray-er for years now, and I look forward to his prayers every time.

Praying is a large part of a faithful life, and prayers didn’t begin with Jesus.  His disciples, as devout Jews, were also regular pray-ers.  They had gone to synagogue services full of prayers, heard the Hebrew scriptures about God answering prayers, and their community at that time incorporated several prayers into their daily lives. Then, once they started following Jesus, Luke’s gospel explains that they have witnessed him pray on at least fivedifferent occasions before they ask Jesus to “teach” them to pray.

So, I wonder, what were Jesus’ first disciples really asking when they boldly demand, “Lord, teach us to pray”?  Were they wondering how to pray?  Or when to pray?  Did they want more explanation about why we pray, or were they just hoping to know what Jesus said during his own prayers?

We won’t ever really know the disciples’ motivations, of course, until we get to heaven to ask them.  But Jesus’ response does show us a lot about Christian prayer. Within just a few short sentences, Jesus teaches a new framework for faithful prayer, which is repeated by those first disciples and passed down through generations, connecting Christian communities together ever since.  More importantly, though, it taught generations of Jesus’ disciples how to understand God and how to talk with God.  Our other scripture reading today, from Colossians, emphasizes this Christian understanding of prayer.  God loves us, and we love God.  Through baptism and God’s love, we belong to God’s family.  As beloved members of God’s family, we pray confidently for one another (and we do not condemn others’ spiritual practices or faith challenges.)

So, we know that prayer is an essential part of the Christian life, and it was an important part of the Jewish lives of Jesus, his friends, family, and disciples, too.  Yet, no matter how often we have prayed, or witnessed others pray, it seems that even the most faithful among us struggle to explain the mystery of prayer.

In fact, all too often we treat prayers as transactional, acting as if God is some sort of vending machine into which we can insert our specially worded prayers and receive the one of several answers we’d already considered acceptable.  And, sometimes, prayer does feel like that.  God promises to hear us and care for us, and we believe that  our fervent prayer can heal diseases, prevent accidents, end wars, save broken relationships, and, in general, keep all the bad stuff away from all the good people.

The problem is, of course, that in real life, our prayers aren’t always answered the way we had hoped, or in the time we had expected a detailed response. Sometimes, unfortunately, illnesses get worse, accidents still happen, wars continue, relationships end, and, in general, bad stuff still happens to good people. Over time, repeating prayers in the face of ongoing tragedy, injustice, and oppression can raise doubts in our hearts about the relevance or effectiveness of our prayers.

Perhaps we are surprised, then, by the final verse of our Gospel today. What Jesus promises us in answer to our prayers is the Holy Spirit. That’s it.   And although it might not be the answer we wanted or expected, it is of course, what we actually need.  When we persist in prayer, God’s Holy Spirit will come to us.  When we pray, boldly and expectantly, and courageously, God’s spirit will come to us. God’s answer might not be what we expected, but it is always what we need:  God’s love inside of us, God’s love healing us, God’s love transforming the world through us.  God’s answer to prayer is always an experience of love, and belonging, and spirit power, often shared together in community.

This week, the ELCA churchwide assembly gathers together, and they have requested our prayers as they make decisions about the business activities of our national denomination.  We hope and pray that God’s will is done through their words and actions. We hope and pray that God’s kingdom promises are reflected in their proposals and resolutions.  We hope and pray for these people we do not know, because they are part of our Christian community, and God’s love calls us to pray for one another.

I got to attend the 2019 Churchwide Assembly in Milwaukee.  During that assembly, there was a resolution up for vote – whether or not the ELCA would be a “Sanctuary” denomination, openly welcoming and inviting immigrants, refugees, and asylum seekers to be a part of our beloved community, regardless of residency status.  That assembly was happening during a time when the national conversation about immigrants was very negative, and when Lutheran organizations which had been supporting newly arrived immigrants were facing some serious political challenges.

During that debate, several pastors openly challenged the Bishop as to whether she was ok with undocumented people “barging into her church, demanding assistance”.  One specifically asked if becoming a sanctuary denomination meant that immigrants would be sleeping on the floor of churchwide offices in Chicago.

Bishop Eaton’s response was something like, “well… we do have a lot of space, and quite a few bathrooms”

Ooh, I was praying fervently during that debate.  I definitely had a response that I wanted to hear from those gathered there.  I had an idea of how I thought God’s will is done and how I preferred God’s kingdom to come.  But the point of my prayer isn’t to get specific responses from others.  The point of prayer is to remind myself that God’s Holy Spirit was alreadypresent in those gathered

Eventually, the 2019 Churchwide Assembly did vote to declare the ELCA a sanctuary church body – the very first denomination in North America to do so.  I proudly celebrated with the thousands gathered.

Since then, I don’t think that many immigrants have moved into the churchwide office rooms, but I could be wrong.   But, as you know, Chicago has had many asylum seekers come to this area, seeking refuge and assistance, and Immanuel decided to be a part the answer to their prayers.

Such a decision has involved much prayer and patience, but also a lot of prayerful words and actions.  The work of creating a specific space to house specific individuals, to open up our beloved community in specific ways… that work is how we live prayerfully every day.  For when we ask God to fix everything… God’s answer might be to help us be a part of fixing something.

So, we keep praying.  We pray because Jesus told us to.  We pray because it keeps us connected to our community of believers. We pray because prayer is not really about a vending machine of wishes granted, but because prayer is about an ongoing relationship with our loving God.  We pray because what we need the most – whether we recognize it or not – is God’s own Spirit filling us up with love and belonging.

So, we pray with words, we pray with laughter, we pray through tears, we pray in hope, and we pray in despair.  No matter how we pray, God’s love invites us, through prayer, to a sense of belonging and connection and beloved-ness which we desperately need. We pray in churches and in cemeteries, we pray in homes and in hospitals, we pray at school and at sports fields.  No matter when or where we pray, our prayers welcome God’s Spirit into us, and our prayers remind us that we are never alone. We pray for wisdom and peace; we pray because this world is broken and we pray because this world is beautiful.  No matter why we pray, God’s love is always surrounding us.

We pray, again and again, asking our loving God:

Lord, teach us to pray.

Teach us to pray with our whole hearts, because you love us.

Teach us to pray with our whole selves, because we love you.

Teach us to pray with boldness, because we belong to your loving kingdom.

Amen.

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God’s Love Calls Us to Transformation

By Rev. Kelly Nieman Anderson
Sermon given July 20, 2025

Today, we continue our July sermon series about God’s love, as we journey together through the chapters of Luke.  Last week, in the parable of the merciful stranger, Jesus reminded us that God’s love calls us to humility and compassion.  This week, Jesus’ loving interactions with his friends help us to recognize that God’s love calls us to spiritual transformation.

But, to be honest with you all, I needed my own lesson in humility and transformational love to prepare this message.

Because I realized that I have a complicated history with today’s Gospel. Even though Mary and Martha are clearly some very important people to Jesus, and even though they are two of the very few women in the New Testament who are both named and quoted… I’ve never personally heard a female preach on this text.  In fact, I have rarely heard that Jesus’ interaction with Mary and Martha was a demonstration of love.

Oh, I’ve heard all sorts of sermons and Sunday school lessons about this story.  But most of them seem to sound more like the “tsk, tsk, tsk” of “Martha, Martha, Martha” with all the comic dismissal of a Brady Bunch rerun.  Sometimes, the story sounds more like a first century reality show, where the two sisters are in competition to earn Jesus’ approval.  But the absolute worst was the all-too-common unloving replay of this Gospel story repeated weekly in the church of my youth.

A male pastor would calmly and peacefully walk into the pulpit to preach on this text, while the women of the church had collectively spent hours making Sunday morning happen:  the women created the bulletins and set the communion table; the women had cleaned the church and prepared the coffee hour supplies and taught the Sunday School. The pastor would then unironically chastise all of us for even thinking of our to do lists during his very important, and very theological, sermon.

Unfortunately, this scenario continued to play out even when I moved to more progressive spaces.  All too often, the contemplative “Marys” (despite their gender) are often honored despite the reality that so many of our religious institutions are almost completely built on the unpaid labor of all the “Marthas”.

Thus, my aversion up until now to unpack this Gospel for myself, let alone reflect on it well enough to share with others.

But, as we journey through Luke together, I tried to remind myself that throughout these chapters, Jesus is not showing us how to die.  Jesus is showing us how to live – and, that God’s promised abundant life is one full of love.  I began to wonder:  what if I reconsidered the entire story as a loving one?

What if Jesus was actually friends with Mary and Martha and their brother Lazarus – good enough friends that they could be really honest with each other?  In a loving and respectful relationship, not every gentle reminder is a harsh criticism.  When we invite friends and loved ones into our homes, like Mary and Martha did, we want to take care of their physical needs and we want to spend time with them.  Both are acts of hospitality and both are ways of showing respect to an honored guest. When our friends encourage us to leave the dishes behind in the kitchen and enjoy the fun time with our guests… sometimes, we just hear their loving request as a blessed gift.

Throughout their friendship, its obvious that Both Mary and Martha generously give of their time and resources to support the physical needs of Jesus, and they both are eager to spend time learning from and listening to Jesus’ spiritual teaching.  Both actions are required of true disciples, and Jesus commends both types of service.

If we hear this Gospel as a loving exchange between friends who are as close as family members, then the problem wasn’t that Martha was working in the kitchen, nor that she was speaking bluntly to Jesus. The problem was that Martha distracted by the wrong things. She became focused on the fact that her sister wasn’t helping. Like the older brother in the Parable of the Prodigal Son or the Pharisee in the Parable of the Tax Collector, Martha is focused on the actions of others and their perceived shortcomings, as opposed to focusing on her own relationship with Jesus. It is this misorientation, not her service or her hospitality, that leads to Jesus’ gentle rebuke.

Through his loving words and actions, Jesus reminds us that we do not need to earn our spot in God’s presence. Instead, our Christian acts of charity, hospitality, and service should all be done with a loving heart. In a world which is focused on personal productivity, God’s love reminds us that we are loved because of who we are, not just what we do.  God’s love transforms our own hearts to recognize our own inherent beloved-ness, so that we can serve others as beloved children of God, too.

God’s love can transform even our most embarrassing mistakes into blessed moments.

Each of us likely has our own story about a time when a gentle, loving reminder helped to get us re-focused on what’s most important.

One of those moments happened for me about 10 years ago, when I was also hosting some beloved house guests.

That week, my husband and I had my brother’s two young kids staying with us for a few days.  They were around kindergarten age, and I was SO excited that they were coming to stay!  But, since our normal routine doesn’t include kiddos, I felt that there was a lot to do to prepare for their arrival, and a lot to do while they were there to ensure they had a good time.

I quickly became so focused on creating photo-worthy vacation memories, that I ended up spending most of my physical and emotional energy on the “to do lists”, until I was too exhausted to even enjoy our time together.

It only took a few days for me to finally hit my breaking point, and then I simply collapsed, weeping and exhausted, right in front of the guests I was trying so hard to impress.  But when my husband gently suggested that perhaps I should take the time I needed to rest… well, my first instinct was to get really angry at him for even suggesting anything other than the very carefully crafted to-do list yet to be done.

Just then, I heard a little voice calmly say, “Aunt Kelly, how about we rest together? Then, we can have more fun together later?” and another little hand came out to grasp mine.  Finally, I remembered:  Those three humans love me because of who I am, not because of what I do.  They wanted to spend time with me, just me, not my carefully crafted list of accomplishments.

God used those little kiddos to remind me of an eternal truth:  love does not require us to earn our own beloved-ness. 

In a culture of hectic schedules and the relentless pursuit of productivity, we are tempted to measure our worth by how busy we are, by how much we accomplish, or by how well we meet the expectations of others. Seems as if not much has changed since Mary & Martha’s time.

But God’s love keeps showing us, reminding us that we do not need to earn God’s love for us – in fact, nothing we do can ever make us worthy of God’s love.  Instead, God’s love transforms us into people who are worthy of sharing love in this world.

Most of our busyness and distraction often stems from the desire to love God and others well.  We want to raise our children well, we want to serve our neighbors, we want our church and our community to flourish. In a perfect world, our hearts would easily be able to balance the “why” we love and serve others with the “how” we love and serve others.  But, in this broken world, sometimes even the nobles of intentions can still leave us with a to-do which is devoid of love or joy.

In this way, the story of these two sisters serves as a powerful example for disciples today. Both listening and doing, receiving God’s Word and serving others, are vital to the Christian life, and it seems that Luke is not prioritizing one act of Christian discipleship over another.  Instead, Luke seems to be reminding us that God’s love transforms our own hearts to recognize our own inherent beloved-ness, so that we can serve others as beloved children of God, too.

As God’s love fills us with comfort and compassion, God’s love also calls us to loving community.  Together, we remind each other of our own beloved-ness, until we begin to notice signs of God’s love, all around us, lovingly inviting us to participate in God’s loving transformation of this whole world.

No matter what distracts us this week, may we each remember how beloved we are – and remind someone else of their beloved-ness, too.

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God’s Love Calls Us To Humility

By Rev. Kelly Nieman Anderson
Given July 13, 2025 (Lectionary 16)

Friends, as we journey together this summer, some of our most devoted church nerds may notice that we are going to be spending a lot of time reflecting on the Gospel of Luke. In fact, throughout the summer and fall – 23 Sundays in a row – we join Luke’s description of Jesus’ life and ministry.  Pastor Monte wisely explained two weeks ago that although Jesus is leading us to the cross, this journey with Jesus isn’t about how to die.  Jesus is showing us how to live.

Luke’s Gospel does include great descriptions of Jesus’ birth, and death, and resurrection. But, Luke also includes detailed descriptions of Jesus’ LIFE – his miracles, his parables, and his daily interactions with others.  In doing so, we get time to learn, just like Jesus first disciples, that by showing us how to live, Jesus shows us how to love.

Christian life – abundant life – a transformed life – is a life which is full of God’s love. Luke’s Gospel is designed to show us what God’s love looks like in our daily lives:  God’s love calls us into community, God’s love leads us out to our neighbors, and God’s love transforms the world through us.

Throughout July, we’ll focus on what God’s love calls us to.  If you look at the communion hymn for today, which Ricardo wrote for us, it outlines all of the themes from Luke for July:  God’s love comforts us, like a mother hen.  God’s love humbles us, like a merciful stranger.  God’s love transforms us through faithful opportunities.  God’s love invites us to beloved community.

Today, we remember that God’s love calls us to humility.  Like a “plumb line” in Isaiah, God’s love is so pure that it shows us right from wrong.  Like a merciful stranger in Luke, God’s love is so surprising that it cannot be contained in any legal descriptions.  God’s goodness and mercy calls us to humbly receive love and humbly share love with others.

Because you are all such well-informed church folks, 😉 I have a sneaking suspicion that many of you were already familiar with today’s Gospel lesson; am I right?

Most of our English Bibles call this the “Parable of the Good Samaritan” but the “Living Bible” translation uses more contemporary terms to describe the characters.  Personally, I find that these terms help me to better connect the parable to my own world.  And when I am humble enough to recognize myself and my own neighbors in this scripture, God’s love illuminates my own faith journey.

Duke Divinity School Professor Timothy Tyson calls this scripture a great “social work” story by Jesus, for three specific reasons:

First, Jesus’ lesson shows that faith-based solutions have their limits. The church people both pass by the wounded man – for their priority is the people already at church, waiting for their arrival.  While church people, like you and me, care deeply about the hurting people on the roads we walk, we aren’t always quite sure how or when, exactly, we can step in and do the most good.

Second, Jesus’ lesson points straight toward the geographic, economic, and racial implications of many of our social problems which, unfortunately, call for structural change as much as individual assistance, even today.  This particular stranger helped one person’s recovery, but that didn’t stop the injustices from happening again in the future.  Such structural problems and complex responses are still happening today.

Third, Jesus’ lesson points toward the need for institutions that are prepared to assist those in need. Because, while the unnamed stranger immediately provides compassion and care from his own resources, he then takes the victim to an institution that is prepared to assist the victim for a longer time, and he ensures that the institution has enough money to do its work effectively.

Immanuel’s commitment to be a “living sanctuary” is one way that this community is responding to those very important social-work based implications of this parable.  Families Together, One Northside, Care for Real, and Faith Community Initiative each support very specific needs in our community – and by partnering with them, we are able to support more neighbors in more ways than any one well-meaning church, organization, or individual could do alone.

So, I could simply stop here, with the all-too-common summary of this “social work” morality tale:  be nicer to your neighbor, support quality charities with your extra time and money, and forgive yourself when you can’t do it all.  I’ve heard many sermons and Sunday school lessons like that, and I’ve probably even told a few myself.

But, Jesus wasn’t telling that story.

In Jesus’ lesson, you and I – we’re NOT the helping stranger (or Samaritan).  We’re not the nice person handing out bandages and paying for hotel rooms.

In Jesus’ story, we’re the person lying half dead beside the road.

If it hasn’t happened to you yet – your own moment of desperation – it will.  It might happen in a hospital or a cemetery… after a marriage fails or a career ends… perhaps because of a betrayal or a storm, a war, an injury, or an alarming diagnosis.  Jesus is telling us a story about that all too common moment: when we need hope or rescue, comfort and companionship, and even though we have no idea who may help us, someone unexpected shows up and treats us better than we deserve.

In Jesus’ story, the compassionate stranger offered very specific and practical assistance: medicine, some clean clothes, a ride to a safe place to stay, and promise to keep helping.  Your donations to groups like Care for Real  are the modern equivalent of that … just without a donkey.

The seminar professor who called this a “good” social work lesson from Jesus also points out that it’s not a “great” social work lesson.  The story of the merciful stranger was not intended to be about social work, because Jesus isn’t a social worker.  Jesus is the savior of the world, and so this Gospel lesson is really about how God’s love changes lives.  The greatest commandment is to love God and one another, and Jesus explains that transformative love requires both humility and mercy.  God’s love comforts us when we are in need and challenges us when others are in need.

We also know this isn’t a social work story by Jesus because he’s not talking to a social worker.  I bet, experienced church people, you remember to whom was Jesus directing this story? That’s right – an expert on Hebrew Scriptures.

Any expert on the Hebrew Scriptures should have been quite familiar with the prophet Amos, whom we also read today.  In fact, most of Jesus’ original listeners would have already known that God intended for this world to be all about sharing love and justice, with mercy and compassion for all people now, not just getting to heaven later.  This expert didknow that was the right answer, because he said that heaven is all about loving God and loving others.  But knowing about God’s love and doing Godly and loving things is a lesson in humility we all need to hear again and again.

Sometimes, humbly sharing God’s love with others means ensuring healthy food, or a safe home, or a loving preschool for our neighbors.  Sometimes, humbly receiving God’s love means rebuilding your life in all sorts of ways you never expected.  Jesus’ command to “go and do likewise” isn’t about just doing more nice stuff for more people, or donating more money to more charities, or even just being nicer to ourselves. “Go and do likewise” is a daily practice of being so grateful for God’s love in our own lives that we intentionally seek out opportunities to share God’s love with others.

So, Jesus’ parable about the merciful stranger isn’t a story about social work.  Like the rest of Jesus miracles and messages, connections and conversations, today’s story is about how God’s love changes us.  God’s love calls us into relationship, God’s love leads us into a broken world, and God’s love renews the world through us.

God love calls us to a full and abundant life, right here and right now, whenever we humbly allow ourselves to recognize God’s presence in the face of all of our neighbors.  Thanks for letting me join you on such a loving, transformative, faithful journey.

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Body and Soul

Proper 8C-25

Immanuel Lutheran, Chicago

“He set his face to go up to Jerusalem” (Luke 9:51-62). And so, Jesus began his sojourn from Galilee to the cross.  From now until October 26th our gospel each Sunday will follow Jesus on this journey as recorded in ten chapters of Luke (9:51-19:28). Jesus will continually invite and challenge us to join him on this journey.

On your social media, you can follow, like, and subscribe with just a ‘click.’  Just open our phone and become a passive receiver of a constant stream of content.  You can un-follow with the same click and begin following another thing. Jesus’ way of the cross is different. There’s no way to follow Jesus with your virtual self without risking your real self. No way to be online with God’s grace without being connected IRL. To follow or not to follow is a choice about what you will do with ‘your one wild and precious life.’

Jesus’ invitation and challenge to follow the way of the cross is less about a destination that it is a new way of life. Whatever you may have heard, Jesus did not go to the cross to pay a blood debt demanded by God. Jesus did not go to the cross to save your soul, as if your soul could be detached from your body and your body be thrown away. He goes to the cross to save you, body and soul. He goes to the cross not to die, but to show you how to live, how to love, how to be free from your petty, small ego-self and become your expansive, creative, wise self. He goes there to show you the whole world, all of creation, its people, plants, and animals, are an incarnation of the holy spirit. God is the one in whom we live, move, and have our being (Acts 17:28). He goes to the cross to show us the way to abundant life. Life is stronger than death. Truth is greater than lies. Light drives out darkness.  Opening to the Godhead in your neighbor (like we are doing today), and by becoming vulnerable in relationships is the path to strength and an end to anxiety. In serving others, you will obtain satisfaction. In losing our life, we find it.

In his letter to the Galatians, Paul depicts the cruciform life we are supposed to live as an alternative society, almost a utopia, in which we live from the inside of Christ’s body, and from such fullness “go to the world.” How different this vision seems from the one we often experience whereby people live almost entirely in the world, fully invested in its attitudes toward money, war, and power—and sometimes “go to church.” We end up thinking and operating pretty much like our surrounding culture.  (Richard Rohr, Daily Meditations)

Part of our problem, I think, is the way the church has handed down biblical teachings like Paul’s about the contrast between the ‘flesh’ and the ‘spirit.’ Paul was not speaking merely of the physical body but rather as a way of describing the false self that is prone to selfishness and rebellion against God. It represents a way of thinking and living that is oriented towards earthly desires and worldly values, rather than spiritual ones. By contrast, the idea that bodies are bad, detachable from the spiritual self, contemptible, and discardable has become an all-too-convenient weapon wielded by the powerful to exploit human bodies and desecrate God’s good creation.  The way of the cross leads not into death but to flourishing.

The prophet Isaiah tells us the Seraphs in the heavenly courts of God cry out, ‘Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory” (Isaiah 6:3). From within our dwelling place in Christ each moment is ‘…an epiphany, constantly becoming, evolving, ascending. We are transported from a place where nothing is new to a place where there is nothing old, where everything renews itself, where heaven and earth rejoice as at the moment of creation (Rabbi Bradley Artson, “God in Process, The Most Moved Mover).

Walking the way of the cross is the ability to be fully where you are when you are there. To let the moment you’re inhabiting have its full weight, its complete texture. Suddenly we discover the world is a masterful flirt. “It leaves little gifts everywhere—the way morning light catches in spider webs, how rain releases that earthy sweetness into the air (that particular alchemy of water and dust that smells like pure possibility), the particular green of new leaves that somehow manages to be both ancient and urgent” (Stephanie Tyler, Wild Bare Thoughts, Substack).

“There’s something almost subversive about this kind of attention in our current cultural moment. To stop for birds, to sit on benches, to let your gaze linger on the way water moves—these acts feel like tiny rebellions against the commodification of every moment. They’re not productive in any measurable way. They don’t optimize anything. They simply are.

And maybe that’s exactly why they matter. In a world that insists on converting every experience into content, every moment into productivity, these small acts of presence become radical. They’re love letters written to no one in particular, conversations held with the part of existence that doesn’t need to be useful to be worthy” (Tyler).

The way of the cross. Like and subscribe to it with and within your God-given body in each God-given moment. See. “Everything that comes into the world brings novelty into the world; brings something that has never before been seen.  And it is God’s greatness to recognize our uniqueness. And it is our frailty to forget” (Artson)

There is real urgency in our readings today.  Every moment counts.  Don’t look back, “Let the dead bury their own dead.” There’s no time even to say goodbye.  For every time there is a season.  Jesus doesn’t sugar coat it.  The way to life and the cross requires sacrifice.  It requires we persist through resistance, sabotage, and even hatred. Yet we do so while knowing that God walks with us and works beside us.

The way of the cross transforms our life’s goals from mere survival to entering upon God’s glory. ‘Going my way,” Jesus asks? Ready to know what real freedom means? Ready to discover the simple abundance all around you? Follow me, Jesus says.

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Casting Out Demons

Proper 7C-25
Immanuel Lutheran, Chicago

The Prophet Isaiah reveals God’s own breaking heart. “I was ready to be sought out by those who did not ask, to be found by those who did not seek me. I said, ‘Here I am, here I am,’ to a nation that did not call on my name” (Isaiah 65:1).

As Paul lamented to the Christians in Rome, “I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate… For I delight in the law of God in my inmost self, but I see in my members another law at war with the law of my mind…” (Romans 7:15, 22-23). This is a paradox familiar to all people of faith. Why would anyone turn away from love? Why reject the unconditional, life-giving, love of God? Why do we settle for peace that is no peace?

Jesus ordered the disciples into a boat and said, ‘Let us go across to the other side of the lake.’ (Luke 8:22). It must have seemed like a very bad no good idea from the beginning to the disciples. They knew this wasn’t merely a trip from one side to another. It was a journey to a hostile land. They sailed into the region of the Gerasenes, opposite of Galilee. The other side of the lake was unclean, filled with foreigners, and pagan gods. It proved to be a dangerous crossing. As if on cue, the disciples are nearly killed by ferocious wind and waves that threatened to swamp their boat.

Then as they step on shore, they encounter a wild man who lived among the tombs! He’s a naked, filthy, demon-possessed man! Their first introduction to this forbidden, no-go zone must have confirmed all the stereotypes about unclean Gentiles they had ever ha—but worse!

You can just hear the disciples. ‘Why couldn’t you leave well enough alone, Jesus? Can we just go home now?! The disciples live in a world of good people and bad people, our people and those people. We worship the God on our side of the lake. Those people worship false idols on their side. That’s just the way it is, and you can’t change it Jesus!

As our nation declares war with Iran, war against trans and queer people, war on immigrants, war on people of color, war on Jewish people (even while it stands with the nation of Israel), war on diversity, and war on the rule of law, and war on democracy God’s heart breaks. “I held out my hands all day long to a rebellious people, who walk in a way that is not good, following their own devices…” (Isaiah 65:2). Jesus exposed the disciples to a new version of themselves. He took them to an unexplored land, the land of the beloved community, the kindom of God where no one lives outside the boundaries of God’s grace. Jesus has shown us that it is not God’s will but the will of diabolical forces and fears, the powers and principalities, which rule this world that keep us separated and afraid of each other. As we sow, so shall we reap.

The very deepest part of you is fashioned in God’s image. You are manufactured to oppose the forces of hate with compassion; to overcome fear, with love. Jesus doesn’t leave well enough alone. Jesus won’t settle for peace that is no peace. The liberation Jesus brings is liberation for something as well as a liberation from something. It is transformation that often costs us something. In our gospel today the healing of one man is paid for in pigs.

When we meet him, the Gerasene Demoniac is a man who has lost everything, including his proper name. He is a boiling struggle of conflicting forces. He calls himself ‘Legion,’ as in a Roman legion. A force of about 6,000 soldiers is at war within him (Culpepper, Luke, New Interpreter’s Bible, p. 188). He has lost his individuality. He is driven to distraction by a multiplicity of influences. And most of these whims, it seems, are self-destructive. (Paul S. Nancarrow, Process and Faith)
For all their differences, the Jewish disciples and the Gerasenes have this much in common: they are both willing to leave well enough alone, rather than to make the sacrifices or take the required risks that could make things better.

If you asked them, I’m sure the Gerasenes would readily admit that life with a demoniac got a little crazy at times. But they had learned to cope. It wasn’t perfect, but it worked out just fine most of the time. They chained him up, posted a guard and kept him far away from other people—most of the time. Problem solved—right? Problem solved for everyone except the suffering man.

We are told he was possessed of many ‘demons.’ The word diabolic comes from the Latin root that means, “to tear apart”. By contrast, the root of the word, symbol means “something that connects or binds together.” When the bible talks about demons, it is pointing at those things, customs, or behaviors in us or our way of life that tear apart the wholeness and holiness of life. Madeleine L’Engle calls them ecthroi, i.e., those things which “x” us out, “x” out beauty and truth and peace (Awaken, Pentecost 1, 2007). When understood this way we realize that demons are not uncommon today, but instead, they are legion.

As Jesus gets ready to leave, the wild man, now healed, sits at his feet, learns from him, and wants to go with him. And why wouldn’t he? “Look at his options! He is standing on the beach with Jesus in front of him and the townsfolk who banished him to the graveyard at his back. He wants to go with the one who healed him, the one who wasn’t afraid to come near him. He wants to go with his new teacher and Lord and learn more about the kingdom of God. He’s ready to follow Jesus. There’s room in the boat, and he’ll leave without looking back — there’s no one to say good-bye to. But Jesus says—“no.”

To others along the way Jesus issues the invitation, “Come, follow me,” but to this one he says, “Return to your home, and declare how much God has done for you.” (Luke 8:39) God holds out their hand. God says, ‘here I am, here I am’ right where you are. You don’t have to go anywhere to begin to travel across barriers, boundaries, and secrets that separate us and to defeat the demons that guard them.

Most often, the call to ministry, involves staying rather than leaving, opening the door rather than moving on. Apparently, it worked. We learn from Mark’s gospel (7:31) that crowds of people come to see Jesus from the region. Change did come for the Gerasenes, just as change has come to us. Whole communities are restored to health, demonic forces of violence and hate are cast out as we give “Praise [to] the one who breaks the darkness with a liberating light” (ELW #843)

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The Arc of Justice

Trinity Sunday C-25

Immanuel Lutheran, Chicago

“Does not wisdom call and understanding raise her voice?  (Proverbs 8:1) Wisdom is depicted as a women sitting on a mountain, at the crossroads, and by the city gates — all the places of legal, commercial, and political power in the ancient world. She is the guardian and guide of human affairs, the ultimate governor of all kings and rulers. She is a co-author with God of creation, like a master-worker and playing before God and delighting in humanity.

She is not hidden but bears witness, ‘To you, people, I call out… to humankind’ (vs. 4). Proverbs 8 is a text of public theology — of speaking truth into the world with authority and reminding all passers-by of the glorious prosperity of a just community.

Notice, there’s no call to repent, no warning or threat to oppressors. “Instead, Wisdom invites, lures, and entices all who hear her to journey more deeply into her joys and to experience the abundance of justice. This Wisdom Woman is, what theologian Elizabeth Johnson calls, “a beneficent, right-ordering power in whom God delights and by whom God creates.” Joy and justice aren’t two separate things. They’re woven into creation, crafted by Wisdom into the cosmos before anything else was made. Joy and justice are expressions of a playful God” (Diana Butler Bass, The Wedding of Joy and Justice, The Cottage, July 05,2022).

Yet, too often, justice seems like a fairy tale. In just the past forty-eight hours our federal government threatened to “liberate” the people of California from their elected government through military action. Israel and Iran are at war. We’ve seen political assassinations in Minnesota, a self-aggrandizing military birthday parade in Washington DC. And yet, we have also seen 2000 “No Kings Day” rallies in cities across the country involving up to 5 million peaceful protestors. (Some of you among them.)

The world aches for justice.  “Wisdom Woman helps us breathe — her justice is part of the fabric of things, a rightly-ordered world, the very nature of creation. And, in unnumbered eons before these difficult times, Wisdom delighted — played — across the earth with God, and with humankind. Proverbs teaches that justice dances through the universe. It is we who are misled by Folly, and we who need to rejoin Wisdom’s frolic… Wisdom still calls us to delight. And therein is the healing of the world” (Butler Bass).

In Christ Jesus, we have beheld this Wisdom. We have seen God’s face.  We have peered into this Divine mystery.  The life that is the light of all people shines in the darkness. God, our intimate and constant companion, is at work now and throughout history to pull and cajole everything to live, to live better, and to live well. This is how we play, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy or that it won’t cost us anything.

Jesus told the disciples, “I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now” (John 16:12).  We are a community that bears up together when life gets too big.  The intensity of life’s joys would be too much for us if we had no one to share them with.  The depth of our sorrows would overwhelm us if we had no one to listen.  Because we hold together in God, the painful pruning winds of life can strengthen us.  They bear fruits of wisdom, compassion, and understanding.  Even death, our greatest foe cannot defeat us as we take shelter in one another and in God.

On the eve of his crucifixion, Jesus knew it was not the proper time to talk about all the great things the young church would accomplish after he was gone. Jesus was going to the cross yet all that he still had to teach the young Christian community would not die with him but wait to blossom and be born at the proper time through the work of the Holy Spirit.

It would be three hundred years before Christians would arrive upon a name to unite all the ways God shows up for us. “Trinity” became the name in which we baptize.  Trinity is the name in which we confess our faith.  Trinity was never supposed to be a mathematical statement. It’s word-art—a creative expression to encapsulate a whole lot of Gospel teaching about God in a single name.

Trinity means God is relationship itself.  God is relationship, intimacy, connection, and unity in diversity.  “We are the children of a mysterious, fluid, diverse, communal, hospitable, and loving God who wants to guide us into the whole truth of who God is and who we are” (Debi Thomas, “The Undivided Trinity,” Journey with Jesus, 5/31/2020).

It was our Greek ancestors who first used the term perichoresis to describe the Trinity. Perichoresis can mean ‘to dance.’  Nothing created is a mere spectator of this dance.  The living God flowing from the center of the universe opens a hand now and invites us to join in the dance of all creation to heal the world, our society, and our democracy.

Anthropologists have a diagnosis for what ails us—for what has interrupted the dance of wisdom and justice. They tell us groups of more than 140 people function through shared stories to direct their shared imagination and energy in creative and collaborative ways. The problem is our shared stories are broken, and in many places, have shattered.  Stories of what it means to be faithful to God differ from one community to the next.  Our stories of what it means to be an American citizen are in dispute and under threat. But we have an antidote in the name of Trinity which can unite people of every religion and no religion.

The Christian name for God, Trinity, has many implications to for how we are to live now.  It means, as Wendell Berry observes, in his book, How to be a Poet, “There are no unsacred places; there are only sacred places and desecrated places.”  It means the same is true of time — there’s no such thing as wasted time or empty time.  That’s why in her poem, she called “Today,” Mary Oliver can forsake the “voodoos of ambition,” take the day off, “fly low,” and celebrate doing nothing at all.  That’s why “There are no ordinary people,” as CS Lewis in The Weight of Glory writes, “You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations — these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit — immortal horrors or everlasting splendors.”

Our ancient siblings in faith grab us by the elbow and make us look at the world with new eyes. Wisdom Woman says, ‘See, God made light, the dome of the sky, the waters and the dry land, the sun, the stars, and the moon.  The universe is not a collection of objects, but a communion of subjects (Thomas Berry). Nothing stands alone. Each living thing is different yet part of the whole.’ So be beautiful. Be you. Discover your true self in all your many colors. Become part of the dance of the Trinity.  Love somebody. Be compassionate. Be Wise. Be loving. Be forgiving. Be kind. Be human. Be the body of Christ and ‘let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream’ (Amos 5:24).

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Boldness to Live without Fear

Pentecost Sunday C25

Immanuel Lutheran, Chicago

Today, on this the Feast of Pentecost, we celebrate the outpouring of the Holy Spirit, the ingathering of the church and the disciple’s great discovery that the wellspring of incarnation runs deep in themselves and in all God’s creation.

Violent wind and tongues of fire inspire fascination and dread.  Yet each is linked to God’s presence and power in scripture. The arrival of Pentecost startled the first disciples and stirred them to action. Pentecost rang like an alarm clock. Time to go, time to leave the comfort of that upper room, time to proclaim the message of Christ in the streets and throughout the world. Time to tell all people that they are not only made by God, but are also made of God, and that God is love. (Julian of Norwich, Revelations of Divine Love, 1998, p. 129). It’s time, beloved, to cast out fear and put on the garments of perfect love which are your inheritance as children of God.

Set aside the theatrics for a moment.  Look at the back of the worship folder and scan through the appointed lessons for today. Count the number of times the word “all” appears in the Pentecost story. Pentecost is sometimes called the “birthday of the church.” But, actually, it is the birth of something much bigger — the birth of a new humanity, a new creation. “In the last days,” God declares, “I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh” (Acts 2:17). Christians are not awarded a franchise on grace as if the Holy Spirit is theirs alone to dispense, withhold, and control. We don’t hold exclusive rights to God’s Divine Love, but we are held by that love as little children are held by a loving parent. We behold the image of the living God in Christ Jesus.  This love and this image open a window to see God alive and at play in ourselves, in all people, and all creation.  We call this divine immanence of God the Holy Spirit.

This Spirit is fire.  This Spirit is like a mighty wind. This Spirit cannot be controlled but is a vital force moving in the cosmos, propelled by God for the destruction of evil and rebirth of hope. It is the Divine wellspring which gives life to all. This was the disciple’s great discovery.  It is their legacy and gift to us now.

In the days leading up to Pentecost, the disciples struggled with a locked-door mentality. They are 120 disciples packed into one dark room. They have re-gathered following the resurrection, but are still laying low, looking over their shoulders, and whispering to one another, questioning what the glad news might mean.

“They have good reason to be afraid. The authorities want them to be. They’re playing out the political script that the authorities have written. Remember, the High Priest, Caiaphas had said that it would be better for one man to die than for this thing to get out of hand and bring the Roman heel down upon them all (John 18:14). They did away with Jesus to crush a budding movement. The strategy was simple. Strike the shepherd, and the sheep will run for cover.

The question was this: Will the movement be ruled by fear? Will the followers be contained and confined? Pentecost comes with a bold answer: No” (Bill Wylie-Kellermann, “In the Boldness of the Spirit,” Sojourners Magazine). At Pentecost the disciples began to be fire-touched people. They defied boundaries of race, class, religion, and gender and burned with the love of God and their neighbors. They won’t be called “Christians” for many years to come. They were simply followers. People of the Way. Imitating a crucified Jewish rabbi named Jesus whom they experienced as fully alive with God’s fire” (Diana Butler Bass, “ALL, the Spiritual Power of Little Words,” Sunday Musings, 6/07/25.)

It’s as if the walls dissolve. The disciples took the resurrection to the streets; they went public. To the authorities it must have appeared as political madness. Some people said they have had too much to drink. Their reckless courage inspired awe. After what’s been done to Jesus, you’d have to be either crazy or drunk to be shouting his name in the streets and pointing accusing fingers at the guilty executioners. But that’s just what they do. (Bill Wylie-Kellermann)

In Peter’s first sermon delivered on Pentecost, he says, “I may say to you confidently…” (Acts 2:29 NRSV). The Greek word is “parrhesia.” It is a word that appears only once in Luke and the other gospels but suddenly flourishes in Acts from the day of Pentecost on. Most often translated as “boldness,” or “speaking openly,” it is a mini-Pentecost packed into a single word…Originally it signified the right of a citizen to speak fully and freely in the public assembly. It means literally “the freedom to say all.” Now, for Peter and the early church, it is the freedom of another kingdom; it is a gift endowed by the Holy Spirit. It is freedom to live in love without fear (Bill Wylie-Kellermann).

 It is the bitter legacy of worldly tyrants to make us less safe; less wealthy, less fair, less free, less truthful, less innovative, less happy, less just, less creative, less resilient, less healthy, less knowledgeable, less competent, less efficient, and less great. They can only operate through fear. But we have received a spirit of adoption. That very Spirit bears witness with our spirit to make us bold—bold enough to know and claim our place as children of God (Romans 8:16). We cannot manufacture this boldness.  We cannot get there by good works or moral uprightness.  We can only be there–resting in the arms of Abba God through faith in Christ Jesus.

The Pentecost clock is ringing again. You know what time it is. It is time to pack your bags. Like us, without God’s Spirit, our church is merely dust, devoid of life. The sturdy Ark of the church, which has carried our ancestors in faith through tempest and turmoil these two thousand years “…will perish unless it opens its window and lets out the dove to search for an olive branch. Sometimes even it will do well to disembark on Mount Ararat and build a new altar to the divine Spirit, an altar neither in Mount Gerizim nor yet Jerusalem.” (Alfred North Whitehead). What are the walls and obstacles the Spirit is urging us to take down today?

The disciples left the safety of the upper room for a new dwelling in Christ—a living sanctuary not made with hands. They left behind beloved doctrine and dogma to follow the Spirit. They drank from the wellsprings of grace they found flowing from deep within themselves. It made them bold to love and curious to welcome the stranger whom they received as the living Christ in their midst.

Like them, faith must not be merely upon our lips but also in our hearts. Like them Pentecost must fill us with an urgency to sweep back the tide of hatred, uncaring, and injustice. This is the mission we affirm today in the Rite of Christian vocation. Whenever we think we’re “not enough” God’s Spirit reminds us that we reflect God’s image. We are heirs with Christ. We are children of a new humanity. We live a cruciform life, a life shaped by the continuous movement from life to death to new life, dying to ourselves and rising in love. We move with boldness. We are free from fear to follow the wild and uncontrolled Spirit of God giving life to us now and life to all. In the name of Christ. Amen.

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I Am Because We Are

Easter 7C-25
Immanuel Lutheran, Chicago

Jesus is in his final hours. The disciples asked, and Jesus has taught them, the Lords’ Prayer. Now, like children listening in while the grown-ups talk, they are learning more about themselves and about God eavesdropping on Jesus out-loud prayer. They are learning about God’s audacious plan to place the mission of Jesus in their hands and ours. we are entrusted with the urgent, life and death mission of renewing the world on earth as it is in heaven by our baptism into Christ. I imagine their eyes growing wider as they listen in on God’s daunting and risky plan. But then they also learn that they will have help. They hear God’s promise to send the Spirit, the Advocate, as a loving guide, and to keep sending that spirit, despite all times we mess up.

St. Paul wrote to the Christians in Rome, “…the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. And God, who searches the heart, knows what is in the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God” (Romans 8:26,27). How many times have I, in my ignorance, prayed for foolish things, or done foolish things? Yet God remains steadfast in sending us the Spirit of new life.

Yes. Upon his death, the curtain in the temple separating God from the great wide world was torn in two (Luke 23:45). As the book of Revelation announces, the water boundary between heaven and earth has been removed (Revelation 21:1). In Christian worship there is no stage, no audience, no actors, no fourth wall. There is one assembly. We are joined together with the faithful of all times and places, in the one life. See. We are the hands and the feet of the living Christ at work (and play) in the world.

But the way forward is not easy. God’s major problem in liberating humanity is continually thwarted the undying recurrence of hatred of the other, century after century, in culture after culture and religion after religion. “Most Christians still do not know how to receive a positive identity from God—that we belong and are loved by our very nature!” (Rohr, Rohr, ONEING, Unity and Diversity, 13–14). Jesus’ most consistent social action was eating in new ways and with new people, encountering those who were oppressed or excluded from the system. Jesus ate with all sides. He ate with tax collectors and sinners. He ate with Pharisees and lawyers (Luke 7:36–50, 11:37–54, 14:1). He ate with lepers (Mark 14:3), he received a woman with a poor reputation at a men’s dinner (Luke 7:36–39), and he even invited himself to a “sinner’s” house (Luke 19:1–10). “The Eucharistic meal is meant to be a microcosmic event, summarizing at one table what is true in the whole macrocosm: we are one, we are equal in dignity, we all eat of the same divine food, and Jesus still and always “eats with sinners,” just as he did when on Earth” (Richard Rohr, “A Welcoming Table,” Daily Meditations, January 25, 2022). No one is excluded from Jesus’ table. Why is that so difficult for us to remember?

As a child I still remember standing with my kindergarten class, looking up at the flag, hand over my heart, to recite the pledge of allegiance every day. (I don’t know. Do children still do that?) I have read that children across America in every State except Hawaii, Iowa, Vermont, and Wyoming recite the Pledge of Allegiance every day at school since 1942. Hand over their hearts they “…pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic for which it stands, one Nation, under God, indivisible with liberty and justice for all.”

The pledge incorporates America’s best and founding principle. “America is not only a homeland… it is also an idea and a moral cause … America stands for a set of universal principles: the principle that all men are created equal, that they are endowed with inalienable rights, that democracy is the form of government that best recognizes human dignity and best honors beings who are made in the image of God” (David Brooks, “I’m Normally a Mild Guy. Here’s What’s Pushed Me Over the Edge,” NYT May 29, 2025). This idea of unity and oneness before God is under threat today.

Jesus’ final prayer was for Oneness. The unity that we are to have with each other we are also to have with Jesus and the Father. The unity, for which Jesus prayed is that everyone—all who have ever known of him, and all those who ever will—be embraced in deep accord, a mystical union with God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. The Catholic contemplative monk, Bruno Barnhart calls this, Jesus’ High Priestly Prayer, “The Prayer of Consecration of the New Temple.” Word Made Flesh becomes Flesh Made Word.

Jesus prayed with confidence for those he didn’t know and those who were yet to be born — for people he’d never meet, for those whose future lives he couldn’t begin to imagine — not because of some miraculous intervention of God was to suddenly bring about a humanity of love, unity, and peace but because the disciples who were with him that day would do to the work. They would do God’s work with their hands. Imagine those disciples listening in on God’s audacious and risky plan. “Those who heard him would share Jesus’ teachings. They would love as he loved. They would treat the poor, the outcast, and infirm with dignity and respect. They would heal, embrace, and welcome. They would feed the hungry” (Diana Butler-Bass, Sunday Musings, June 1, 2025). They would welcome all to God’s table.

As Saint Paul wrote, “I live no longer not I, but Christ lives in me” (Galatians 2:20). In the spiritual journey for which Jesus prayed, we slowly come to realize that we don’t live life by ourselves just as the bees don’t make honey without each other. There is Someone Else living in us and through us, sharing our consciousness, luring, suggesting, persuading us to be our best selves, teaching us that we are part of a much Bigger Mystery. We are a single drop in a Much Bigger Ocean. (Richard Rohr, Daily Meditation, 3/7/16). We are a recipient, a conduit, a participant in the resurrected life we call Easter. From South Africa we receive the word, ubuntu, “I am because we are.”

Easter does not mean that you believe in unbelievable things. “But that you believe — trust, give your heart to, and belove — an utterly believable single thing: We human beings are one in God and one with each other, here, in this world, to work and speak together for love, healing, liberation, and, indeed, resurrection. To do the impossible, to create what will last, to think and strive for the generations to come. To not give up hope” (Butler Bass).

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No Need for Tribalism

Easter 6C-25
Immanuel Lutheran, Chicago

The words we read today are among the last spoken by Jesus to the disciples. He is preparing them to carry on without him. Life is about to radically change for them—again. His death will be a shattering experience, one that will shake the foundations of their lives. Peace, I leave with you; my peace I give to you” Jesus said. (John 14:27a)

They will learn all too quickly the peace Jesus gives does not bring an end to conflict, or tragedy, or loss, or finitude, or mortality. Jesus was not giving the disciples peace and quiet, or a little vacation, or rest and relaxation. No. Instead, they will discover the peace that Jesus gives comes despite hardship, struggle, conflict, and disruption.

Let’s remember what had just happened that night. Jesus’ gift of peace comes as Judas is preparing to betray him, a few hours before his enemies will arrive in force to arrest him and execute him. And still, even in that moment, Jesus not only senses peace, but also gives peace to others (David Lose). As Paul wrote to the Philippians, this peace “…the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 4:7)

This is not peace as the world gives, but only as God can give it. This is peace for when our dreams don’t come true, when the plans we set for ourselves are changed, when doors are slammed in our face, and for when new doors are opened.

This peace, this unbreakable shalom, connotes contentment, fulfillment, and a profound wellbeing from basking in God’s pleasure. This peace comes from being held tightly to God’s bosom and joined there with the One True Undying Life we share in Christ Jesus. Peace.
Jesus’ explanation of this makes him sound a bit like Master Yoda in Star Wars. “If you love me, you will keep my word, and my father will love you, and to you we will come and a home with you we will make.” (John 14:23)

No. The peace of Christ is not the absence of conflict, but the assurance that life’s storms do not have power to undo us. What’s more, this peace of Christ comes with the presence and counsel of the Advocate to guide the disciples and the new church in the right direction. The Hebrews called this holy presence Ruach, or breath. They also called it ‘Sophia’ or wisdom. The Chinese called it ‘Chi.’ Muslims named it ‘Al-ruh.’ Hindus have named it ‘Shakti.’ The Christian scriptures use many names for this in-dwelling presence of the divine spirit: Counselor; Comforter; Baptizer; Advocate; Strengthener; Sanctifier; Spirit of Christ, Spirit of Truth; Spirit of Grace; Spirit of Mercy; Spirit of God; Spirit of Holiness; Spirit of Life.

The famous 19th Century English philosopher and political economist, John Stuart Mill once lamented his father’s decision to exclude any religious instruction from his early education because it was a waste of time, his father had said. Yet Mill declared he felt his soul had been starved. Without the guidance of a personal God known through prayer and faith, he likened himself to a “well-appointed ship, but with no sail.”

Without a means of locomotion, no ship can safely put out to sea. Yet, many attempt to navigate life with nothing to propel them. They are drawn by the siren songs of popular culture, or of racism, nationalism, bigotry, or Empire. In the Tragedies of ancient Greece, the siren would begin to sing and everybody in the audience knew the entire cast of characters was doomed.

‘My peace be with you. A home in you we will make,’ Jesus said. Paul set sail from Troas and planted a new church in Phillipi. Lydia listened from beside the river and responded to the gospel. John envisions a tree of life with leaves to heal the nations in the city of God, the New Jerusalem.

That night, his last night, amid betrayal, violence, and death, Jesus blessed the disciples with peace. Jesus offered them his life. He offered them union with God in Christ. He offered them the Holy Spirit. He opened the door and invited them to find shelter in one another. This is the dwelling place into which we welcome little Joseph Ysidro Clauson today.

Unlike the lonely ship without a sail John Stuart Mill described himself to be, we in the church are united in Christ like the great wooden beams Noah lashed together to build the Ark. We lift one another above the waves. See. We have become living members of the body of Christ, belonging to one another and to God. We subsist in God like light subsists in flame. Be still and know God’s way of falling in love with the world and everything in it. Awaken from the illusion of separateness. Open to communion. Open to the radiance of the world soaked in grace. See. All the angels are here! The deathless presence of those who have crossed over are here! The communion of all the saints is here.

There is no need for tribalism. No need to argue with or against people of other religions or no religion. Imagine God’s love on the analogy of a light shining through stained glass windows. Each living being, each culture, each religion, reveals some of the light, always in a different color. (Jay McDaniel, 12/27/20)

We know this because the peace of Christ is our eternal dwelling place. This peace encircles and protects us wherever we go. God’s indwelling peace widens from the inmost depths of our soul to encompass all people who trust in God’s shalom. It is a home-making peace to comfort the grieving, warm the hearts of those who are afraid, to be a light in the darkness, a source of healing for the nations, and to end the fever-dream of nationalism, patriarchy, racism, and Empire.

This is why we are here. This is how we do what we do. Here at Immanuel, we strive to be a living sanctuary of hope and grace like the saints of old. We do this by welcoming each other to the Lord’s Table, by welcoming children and families throughout the week who need a place to play, to talk, to connect, to share resources, or get some help with their homework. We do this now also by making a home for the hunted.

Each week throughout the Easter season, we have celebrated God’s love for us, “on the way, at the table, and to the end.” Come. Abide. Take shelter. Welcome the gift of God’s peace within you (14:27). Come. Abide. Be filled again with the Spirit of Ruach, Sophia, Al-ruh, Shakti, and Chi. Receive again new life in Christ Jesus. May the triune God come now, a home in us to make. “The peace of the Lord is among us right now, so open yourselves to receive it” (The Peace of the Lord, ELW # 646). May the peace of the risen Christ be with you always.

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Love is Your Birthright

Easter 5C-25
Immanuel Lutheran, Chicago

“Live every day as if it may be your last, because someday, it will be true.” (The gospel according to Steve Jobs.) In his final moments, Jesus is thinking about the end. Judas has stepped out from the Last Supper to plan his betrayal. “The crucifixion clock is ticking fast and hard, and Jesus knows that his disciples are about to face the greatest devastation of their lives. So, he gets right to the point. No parables, no stories, no pithy sayings. Just one commandment. One simple, straightforward commandment, summarizing Jesus’s deepest desire for his followers: “Love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.” And then, right on the heels of the commandment, a promise. Or maybe an incentive. Or maybe a warning: “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” (Debi Thomas, “If You Love,” Journey with Jesus, 5/12/22)

Loving God and neighbor as yourself is a Christian I.D. badge. Yet, there is widespread disagreement today about who counts as a true Christian. I believe Christian nationalism is clearly an oxymoron. It is not Christian nor is it patriotic. But if you were to ask a Christian nationalist, I’m pretty sure they don’t think that I’m a real Christian—nor anyone who espouses views like mine, or that ordain women and GLBTQIA+ persons; or that prioritize justice, nonviolence, and care for the earth over the afterlife.

Christian churches up and down the street and across the country have created a mess of things by name-calling, exclusion, hubris, inquisitions, heresy hunting, and worse. The first Christian said to be executed by other Christians was Priscillian of Avila in 385 C.E. Priscillian was found guilty of heresy. In the 250 years following this event, theologian Harvey Cox claims, “Christian imperial authorities put twenty-five thousand to death for their lack of creedal correctness.” Yet, “I’m sure those imperial bishops and Christian rulers thought they were doing the loving thing” (Diana Butler Bass, “The Centrality of Love,” Sunday Musings, 5/17/25).

The faith that had been born in persecution became the persecutors. As philosopher Rene Girard pointed out, “Beginning with Constantine, Christianity triumphed at the level of the state and soon began to cloak with its authority persecutions similar to those in which the early Christians were victims.” Once you start attacking your own, dismissing their humanity, it is very easy to attack others you deem less than fully human. (Butler Bass)
“Jesus didn’t say, “love each other and then love everyone else.” No. He insisted that the love the disciples had for each other would witness to a larger love, the same love he proclaimed and modeled in his life and death. Jesus didn’t love only a few. Jesus didn’t die only for the church. For God so loved that world that he gave his beloved Child so that everyone, everyone, everyone might know they are a beloved child of God.

So why are we confused about what love means? What explains the persistent perverse mixture of the gospel with violence? We can point to many places where Christians have made a wrong turn, many stemming from the time after Christianity became the official religion of the Roman Empire. There are three dogmas we are all supposed to believe about God: that God is all-powerful (omnipotent), all-knowing (omniscient), and all-good (omni-benevolent). Rabbi Bradley Shavit Artson writes, “These three Omnis have created more atheists than any cluster of ideas in human history, because God can be any two, but not all three.” Could our confusion about what it means to love, and the normalization of religious coercion and violence, arise from our misunderstanding about God’s power? (Rabbi Bradley Shavit Artson, “I Will Be Who I Will Be –A God of Dynamic Becoming)

There is a difference between saying God is very powerful, and saying God is all powerful. If God is good and all powerful, why is there evil in the world? If God already knows the future, where is the meaning in free will? Ask a bible scholar. Where does it say that in the bible? Ask them, where is the biblical word for all-powerful? It turns out there is not such term or concept in scripture. The bible gives us many synonyms for might and power, but there is no Hebrew for ‘omnipotence.’ This turns out to be a Greek idea; it derives from Plato and Aristotle. For a thousand years, our reading of the bible was filtered through Greek philosophies. We have been reading the bible through Greek and (later) Cartesian metaphysics and Newtonian physics. We have sold our birthright for a bowl of Greek porridge. We are finally free to look at our own scripture without these distorting overlays. One consequence of this is clear. We can no longer be confused about what it means to love God and to love neighbors.

God is not, as Aristotle claimed, the Unmoved Mover. God is the Most Moved Mover. God is that force in the cosmos generating creativity and novelty. God is the source of love that moves us toward greater wellbeing and flourishing. Our universe continuously blossoms into new, more complex interrelationships. “Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable; it keeps no record of wrongs; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing but rejoices in the truth…Love never ends” (1 Corinthians 13:5-6).

Rather than omnipotence, theologian Thomas Oord has suggested the term “amipotence” to name the infinite power of divine love. ‘Amipotence’ combines two Latin words ami and potens. The first means “love.” The second is the Latin word for power or influence. Amipotence is a verb not a noun. It is an ongoing and endless activity, always different and yet always the same. The heart of amipotence is healing and life-giving, like love itself. God’s power unfolds within relationships. God’s power is persuasive, never coercive. It is ‘In this God, that we live and move and have our being’ (Acts 17:28).

This is a very different picture of God than the one we have been told we are supposed to believe in. It is the God you will encounter in scripture when you read it without the veneer of Greek philosophy or Newtonian physics. It is the God you will find which our ancestors in faith have proclaimed, one who cares, one who relates, one who invites us to make the best decisions and who remains vulnerable to our choices—whether for good or for bad. We do God’s work with our hands—or we don’t. Despite this God comes fresh each moment with the invitation and inspiration to love.

This is the God who dwells, not merely in heaven, but also deep within and through each of us. This is the God who Peter heard in a dream urging him to welcome and include the Gentiles. This is the God to whom the psalmist gave praise today which is proclaimed throughout the universe, beyond the stars; beneath the sea; within each cell; with every breath. This is the God John of Patmos proclaimed is ushering in a new heaven and a new earth. See all things are being made new! “Where charity and love prevail, there God is ever found; brought here together by Christ’s love, by love we thus are bound” (Where Charity and Love Prevail, ELW # 359).

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