Sermons from the Episcopal Church of the Redeemer

Not long ago, in a spiritual direction session, My companion and I spoke about the relinquishing of baggage. Letting baggage go to give space to my future self. Placing that baggage at the feet of Jesus. Placing that baggage on the altar as a sacrifice of a part of myself to God. Like a good and proper Gestalt pupil, I spoke to the future, my future self. It is a self that is not completely known. It is a self, fraught with uncertainty. But it is a self, pregnant with possibilities. Great possibilities, Holy possibilities, Spirit-infused possibilities. I don't remember exactly what I said to my future self. I do remember speaking about my fear of the unknown. A fear so great. I was dragging my feet. Sometimes I wanted to pick up my baggage and return to the place that I knew well.

Your salvation is not about you. It is about God. Now maybe you're not wealthy. Maybe money is not the issue for you. I invite you to close your eyes for a second and think. Like think about what are the things that you lean on to make sure you know that you're okay. What are they? Probably is money for a lot of us. You can open your eyes when you want. I grew up, um, I didn't grow up very much. I grew up short. Um, I was, I was, I was always the shortest kid in my class, um, I was never very athletic, I was never like, like one of the cool kids in that way, right? But I could talk myself into and out of anything. And I find myself even now trying to talk myself into and out of my own salvation. That's the way that I, that's the way that I know that I'm okay. So when I actually practice silent prayer, and I learn to shut up. God shows up and reminds me, I'm not talking my way into heaven. Heaven is showing up in my heart and in my life, if only I have eyes to see it and am willing to acknowledge my need for God.

We all know that divorce happens. It happens to married people. It happens to siblings. It happens to friends, and neighbors, and communities. It even happens to countries. Divorce, or the act of separating ourselves from one another, is the result of human error in understanding God's intentions for humanity. Divorce is a common response to our amnesia (or defiance) of the reality that human beings were made for relationship and that we actually need one another. We always have. You know who knows this? Children.

In the business world I lived in, When someone said the left hand doesn't know what the right hand is doing, that was not a good thing. That was talking about things falling apart pretty quickly. But here I believe Jesus is speaking with hyperbole, delivering a powerful message for us. To give our attention to whatever we are doing. What our hands are doing. Where our feet are carrying us. What our eyes are focused on. To be awake within ourselves and in our interactions with others. To not fall into or be in default ways of being that set up stumbling blocks for others, and that do not follow Jesus path of love. The path is made by walking. Walking makes the path. Sometimes it's clear when we're starting a new path. Choosing a new school, a new work position, retirement, sabbatical, being in a committed relationship, suffering, suffering a, a deep loss. New experiences with some direction to them. Sometimes they are anticipated, they are thought through over time, and sometimes they happen spontaneously.

In his arms, he holds an infant, and he says, "Be like this." Innocent, and dependent upon one another, unstained by the world; and open to being formed. Be like this. Curious seekers with BIG emotions. Be creative and adaptable; imitating me. Someone you can trust. Welcome the vulnerable into your midst, and be like them. For the leader among you is like the one who serves. There is a reason why, in the Gospels, Jesus implores his believers, his followers to be like little children. Born anew to a living hope.

Jesus says, follow me, but be prepared to be transformed. Talk about me, but if you're going to open your mouth and talk about exclusion, if you're going to cancel people, if you're going to kick them out of your life, out of this place, if you're going to deny your responsibility for the people around you, don't speak in Jesus name. If you're going to work in this world, To create a space that's good for you at the expense of others don't speak in Jesus name If you are going to stand up in this world and do work that is about your betterment and the betterment of a few other people around you that look sound and seem like you, please for the love of God don't speak in Jesus name. But when you get up in this world and you work for justice and peace in a way that humanizes and acknowledges the beauty of every single person. Whether you say the name of Jesus or not, you are speaking with the authority of the God who made you. When you dedicate your life to the care and concern of others and make sacrificial love your story, whether you say it's in Jesus name or not, it is Jesus who speaks within you.

Are you beset with gloom? Gloomy because someone like me refuses to accept your dehumanizing dream, crushing his nose for an answer? Oh well, still I rise. Maya audacious, defiant backtalk is a sassy refusal to accept the life restricting consequences of the denials, discrimination, and oppression by a dominant center and patriarchal system. Today we hear of a similar sassy refusal to accept a denial of life in our Gospel reading. Here too, we hear backtalk to someone in a position of power, supernatural power, that is, whose denial of life and wholeness is also one of discrimination and exclusivity. The episode is tense, upsetting and complicated. I cannot speak for you, but such is certainly true for myself and in fact, the same appears to be true for the author of the Gospel of Mark who locates a tired and possibly quite aggravated Jesus in the region of Thyre, a Gentile dominated territory. It is hard to imagine Jesus being at ease. He is alone, attempting to go unnoticed in a house in a region in which there is some history of animosity between the Jews and the Gentiles.

I need to say this, by the way, in this conversation, if I don't say this, I will be very remiss. Anger and hatred are not the same thing. And many of you were raised, especially women, were raised to believe that anger was bad and you should not have it or keep it to yourself. We were taught that you shouldn't be angry about anything. And you might be worried that what I'm saying right now is that you should never be angry because that's bad friends. Anger is not inherently bad. In fact, anger is a very natural part of our lives. Anger is a base emotion that we all must have sometimes. In fact , there is a problem if you see injustice, hatred, violence, murder, oppression, cruelty, and hatred, and anger does not arise in you. We're supposed to feel angry in the face of that which is deeply wrong. I'm not saying don't be angry, but as the epistle writer James says, your anger is not the thing that makes God righteous. We do not want to allow our anger to become self-righteous.

We pray that God will take ordinary things. Things like bread and wine and water and oil and use those ordinary elements to convey God's extraordinary grace and love. It matters. It matters that we recognize these gifts from God and it matters too that we acknowledge the reality of evil. I don't envision a return to three years preparation for baptism, or it's once a year occasion, or even necessarily that whole facing west and facing east business that our forebears practiced. But I do give thanks for the fact that we hold those ancient promises That we reaffirm those renunciations and those affirmations every time we renew the promises of our baptism The Apostle Paul probably wrote the letter to the church at Ephesus, which has been the focus of your preaching series over these last weeks, while he was in prison in Rome after his third missionary journey. Paul would have visited that region three times over the course of his ministry. First, just for a few months to establish the church, establishing also leaders in that place who would continue the ministry that he had begun. And later in his second voyage, for three years, he stayed with the Ephesians. And finally, he went back as part of his last journey to Jerusalem. Over that time, Paul saw the church grow into a body of multiple cultures. In his letter, Paul teaches that through Christ all creation has been reconciled to God. In doing that, God has reconciled all of us to each other, and so because we are reconciled to God, because we're reconciled to one another, God calls us to live differently. To live as a people who have been transformed.

For me, the third grade was probably one of the best times of my life. I could pick out my own Umbro shorts, scrunchie my own ponytail, And ride my bike freely around the neighborhood from sun up to dinner time, getting into some good and maybe not-so-good trouble with the other kids who lived nearby. I learned to cook, spent unnumbered hours creating trampoline routines, and made prank phone calls to my friends from school. Is your refrigerator running? Better go and catch it. I vividly remember a Saturday morning in July of 1994, climbing the gutter at the elementary school down the street and slipping in through an unlocked window, and scaling down the bleachers into the gymnasium. So that we could swing on the big rope in the open gym. Being eight was great. Life was good, not a care in the world. Nostalgia set in earlier this summer when I realized with sentimental longing and wistful affection that the mothering of my own eight-year-old children has been marred by the same two words that begin our reading from Ephesians today; be careful.

And then what happened is as many of you know, I had a sort of a conversion experience when I was 20 and I realized, oh gosh, dang, I do believe in God. This is real that I believe in God. And in fact, I think I'm Christian. I do believe in Jesus. And from the moment that that happened, I felt this sort of need to prove some things. From the moment that I was called back into my faith, I felt the need to prove myself. In my case, I didn't feel the need to prove to other Christians that I was Christian. In my case, I needed, I felt the need to prove to my friends and those who knew me for the last few years that just because I was Christian didn't mean I was all of a sudden going to become a jerk. It was really important to me. I wanted people to know that even though I believed in this Jesus guy and I was in on this, I was very concerned and wanted to prove to my friends that this wouldn't change the way that I loved them and hopefully it wouldn't change the way that they loved me.

This certainly is not unity. Is unity a difficult ask for today? Today America has become more divided than ever. For many, unity is viewed as a threat to peace. to one's personhood or individual identity altogether. Unity requires someone must win and someone must lose. Unity means a loss of freedom. Unity means a loss of merit or a loss of dignity. Unity also means a loss of stability, a loss of security, and a loss of safety. Today, to some, unity is indeed frightening. Unity And yes, unity is indeed frightening because unity requires vulnerability. Unity often takes its victims to unchartered and unknown territories. Unity might lead to becoming friends or falling in love with someone you never dreamed possible. Unity might lead to agreeing with or even having compassion for another person that they have been conditioned to hate. Unity might lead to someone challenging their own worldviews, then to confusion, and then maybe some resolve. I've never heard or read anywhere that unity is easy.

Now that this is my last Sunday with you, it's time for me to tell you my real name, because in so many ways, our name defines us, roots us in this world, gives us our identity. My real name isn't the name that my parents put on my birth certificate and that I was called at my baptism. It's the name my grandmother gave me when I was born. My father's mother, Ah Yun, was the name-giver for the Chin family. An ancient Chinese saying goes, "The family is essential under Heaven." The family is the foundation, the center of Chinese culture, with the male child responsible for continuing the family lineage and, importantly, passing on the family name. So girls are traditionally not valued. But the birth of the first child, male or female, is always an occasion for celebration and joy. So when my parents' first child was born, a girl, Ah Yun named her Mei Li, meaning "Beautiful Daughter." Girls are often named lovely names like that--Coral Flower, Beautiful Girl, Lustrous Pearl, and so on. I think it makes the girl more appealing when the time for marriage comes along.

We live in a time when the proclaiming of Christ's word may sometimes be used to divide us, not unite us. To judge us, separate us from one another. The distortion of Christ's message of love may be used to sound exclusive instead of the inclusive example Jesus actually taught and lived. Sometimes it feels heartbreaking that truth and faith and love can become so distorted and weaponized for very human agendas. In our very human lives, we may witness many divisions from politics to economics, to ecology, to healthcare, to diet, to education, to government, to justice. The list could go on and on. We see these divisions in headlines, in conflicts involving power, violence, manipulation, and distortion. We see these in our communities, in country, and around the world. And we often experience divisions in close relationships, within families, friendships, with colleagues, neighbors, others in our communities. We can be very clear about our experiences, our judgments, to respond to others. And we respond to others with judgment, accordingly, without effort, to find a place of listening, of reconciliation, of unity.

When I was graduating high school, our yearbook staff held an election for hope in the form of our senior superlatives. You all may remember these from that time in your life. Each day at the lunch period, for a week, students could go to the special table in the lunchroom and cast their vote for their peers, that they felt were well deserving of a title that would mark the reality of the present, but also to help propel that person forward into the world with a community affirmed identity. There was most likely to succeed. Life of the party, most kind, class clown, best smile, and most likely to run for president. We waited with anticipation for the votes to be counted, the answers would be printed in our senior yearbook, enshrined for all to see, a symbol of our hope for what was to come. I remember huddling in the hallway with my friends as I ran my finger down the list, reading at a rapid pace. There was my name, Melanie Jonakopoulos: biggest tree hugger.

I do believe Paul's point is easily made at the end of our reading. And that is that God's power is made stronger in our human weakness. Therefore, boasting and weakness allows for Christ's power and grace to be made more evident. Or, in our English translation of this, it's perfected. But why? Why is the divine's power perfected in weakness? Maybe because when human weakness is exposed, we get to see our gracious and compassionate God do things our humanity cannot do well on its own. Maybe because in weakness, one must rely on something else beyond themselves to overcome. Maybe because in weakness, God likes to use those spaces to do things that exceed our expectations. Or maybe because in our boasting about our strength, we lose sight for our need of God and we think we can do things on our own.

I think we are all familiar with "Are we there yet?" In fact, I can't help thinking that the question, so familiar to family travelers, is an inborn genetic trait that is triggered one hour after the car leaves the driveway. Sometimes children even make a repetitive chant out of it, thus increasing its output a hundredfold before the parents put a stop to the noise. When I was young, my mom and dad piled me and my brother and sister into the car, and we headed out on our first trip to Disneyland in Anaheim, 400 miles from home, or eighty hundred miles if you're a kid. After about 20 minutes traveling and every five minutes thereafter, we children asked the question that seems to be imbedded in all children's DNA, to be turned on when they go on trips: Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Finally, my father said, "When you see Sleeping Beauty Castle, you'll know." Finally, it happened. An eternal seven hours later, Sleeping Beauty Castle loomed up next to the freeway, and we knew. There was the Magic Kingdom. The final destination on our journey isn't the Magic Kingdom; it's the heavenly Kingdom of God. And our landing spot isn't Sleeping Beauty Castle. Instead, our new home will be what Paul calls "God's building" and what Jesus calls "my Father's house" with many rooms, where Jesus promised there is a place prepared for each of us.

I don't remember when I started seeing the oval decals on cars that say just 26.2, but for a long time, it puzzled me. I assumed it referred to a Bible verse, so I looked up all the "26.2's" in the Bible to see what message was being proclaimed. There was Exodus: "The length of each curtain shall be 28 cubits, and the width of each curtain 4 cubits; all the curtains shall be of the same size." 1 Chronicles: "Meshelemiah had sons: Zechariah the firstborn, Jediael the second, Zebadiah the third, Jathniel the fourth..." And then I came to the one I thought was the right one, from Proverbs 26:2: "Like a sparrow in its flitting, like a swallow in its flying, an undeserved curse goes nowhere." On the back of your car, that's the message for the guy who swears at you when you cut in front of him in traffic. I finally found out that it's the number of miles in a marathon and that the sticker is bragging rights you earn when you've run a marathon. But don't blame me for thinking 26.2 is a Bible verse. I was raised with the number 3:16--John 3:16, that is, which I had to memorize at the church I attended in my youth, along with the books of the Bible and the 23rd Psalm

Are we, perhaps, a little bit afraid of Pentecost? And what the spirit? A couple of weeks ago, our neighbors invited us to attend worship with them at their church. Word of deliverance. I'd been there a couple of times before, but this was my first outing there with my children. The band was poppin, the speakers were blaring. The choir was on fire. Little Arlo instinctively covered his ears when entering the space. It was loud. Seriously, three organs, I'm not sure, could hit this decibel. We swayed our hips and waved our hands in the air, and we sang as the soloist led us in a gospel tune called You Are Worthy. When the preacher got up to preach, he both sang and spoke rhythmically from one to the other, like it was just the most natural thing he had ever done. I looked over at my boys to gauge their reception of a preaching style quite different from my own. This man was incredibly passionate. And just watching him made me wish I were a bolder preacher. And then, he started speaking in tongues. I looked at my children, wondering how they might react. Now, because of my work in the interfaith community here in Cincinnati, my kids have been to synagogues and mosques and Buddhist temples and Sikh Gurdwaras, but never before have they heard someone speak in tongues. I bent down to Arlo and whispered, Are you okay? Yeah, he replied nonchalantly. I don't know why, but then I asked, Do you understand what he's saying? Yep! He affirmed with great clarity, not a hint of hesitation in his voice. Something I myself could not understand seemed so natural to this little child.

Think of someone who is suffering from addiction, from depression, from loneliness, self-rejection, rejection by the world. Distress due to finances. Meaningless of life. Think of them as being tossed into the ocean. Do we not hold on to Jesus, believe in our God and Christ so that we can be a lifeboat to others. By us sitting here, standing here, and being here, a community that believes in the power and love of God and Christ, I believe we're in a position to help others and be helped by others even those struggling in the ocean trying to stay afloat. Because let's face it, there are times when we fall out of the lifeboat and need help getting back in. Amen? Being a set, being set apart from this world does not mean that we are better than anyone else. But what it means to me is that we have been given a gift to receive and live by and give that gift to someone else in need. So, as Jesus says, as you sent me into the world, so I send them into the world.

I don't know about you all, but I feel like I've had more than the usual number of encounters with geese this spring. Maybe you've had that experience too. Frequently as they're crossing a road... And if I don't see them immediately when I'm behind other cars, I will find that I'm experiencing considerable frustration.'Why are these people not moving?' I tend to cut my timing short and, 'why is this car stopped?' And then feeling very sheepish to realize that this car has stopped to allow some geese to waddle past. And frustration turns to appreciation at the other driver's respect for these geese and for tending to God's creation, including the waddling ones. It is the same phenomenon though, that anytime we are so tunnel-focused, we miss the larger picture. It's very easy to miss the larger picture and when something calls us to that larger picture, it is really a gift to change our perception and our engagement with the world.

A few years ago, when traveling anywhere was out of the question because of you-know-what, many homeowners thought of turning their own yards into destinations worthy of traveling to--and the staycation was born. My backyard was a blank slate full of weeds. I wanted a place outside that was worth traveling to, a yard that reminded me of places I'd been to and loved--Clear Lake, the working-class resort of my early childhood with its woods and hammock; Olympic National Forest; Glacier National Park; the Japanese Garden in San Francisco and Spokane; and finally, Children's Fairyland in Oakland and anything Alice in Wonderland. I'm too scrawny to dig a hole deeper than three inches, so I hired a landscaper to plant the trees I bought. In my usual getting-carried-away habit, I eventually ended up, in a medium sized backyard, with 2 redbud trees, 3 magnolias, 7 dogwoods, and 13 Japanese maples, all different. After they were planted, I told the trees, "You're on your own." I didn't want to have to actually work in my yard. I'm all for no-maintenance gardening here. The trees had to take care of themselves. It was a transactional relationship between me and my trees. I give them dirt; they give me beauty, shade, and supplemental oxygen. I wasn't going to fuss over them, water them, hug them--or prune them. I'm not a gardener. I'm a stay-at-home tourist.

While coming down the hill into Hyde Park on Ridge, I noticed a car stopped in the middle of the intersection, and a man standing at the back of his car. Without thinking it through, I pulled off to the side, saying to my sister, hold on, a guy is stuck in the intersection. I'll call you right back. And as I jumped out of my car to see what was going on, I heard her yell through the speakerphone of my car, It's not safe! Don't be a martyr, Melanie! The intersection was filled with honking cars. One guy flew around us full speed and then only one other man, a guy driving a semi-truck, got out to help me push this other guy's vehicle to the curb so that everyone else could get back to what they were doing before someone's bad luck completely inconvenienced them. When was it lord that we saw you in need and did not come to your aid? And Jesus answered, just as you did not do it for one of your fellow humans in small things, you did not do it for me. The voice of our shepherd showing up, even in small things. I got back in the car, and as promised, I called my sister. What happened? I'm glad you're alive. I laughed too. A guy just needed a little push. It wasn't until then that I realized how silly I might have looked pushing a car in my collar, or how annoyed I was that only one other guy got up to help us.

Our hope rests in God. When God shows up and does the work of transformation, and resurrection in our lives, our part is to recognize God. And if you're not sure how to recognize God, look for love. And I mean, every time. Look for the love in your life. And when you look there, you see God and you recognize that God has been at work in resurrection all around you all the time. This is when you begin to believe. When you cut someone off in traffic, because you're thinking about something, you didn't mean to do it, you're a very good person, we all know, but you cut someone off, and then you realize you do it, and then that person drives by you, and instead of giving you the finger, waves at you, and is like, I get it, it's okay. Recognize God's presence, please. That's God. When you're at the airport, and you see two people that you have no idea who they are, and they clearly haven't seen each other in a while and they grab each other and embrace when they see each other, recognize God's presence. When you're coming off the highway, and you see that man who's standing on the side asking for money, you know, that guy, maybe you give him a dollar and maybe you don't, but when you see him, you make eye contact with him and you say, hello. And when he looks at you and you look at him and you see each other's eyes, friends, that's God at work.

How many of you have been through hell with God by your side, through the trials of your life, possibly testing you? How about when you get to the other side and God is still there? You know in your heart that you've made it through the hard times and hardships because of that presence that you can always count on. The presence that always seems to provide, you know that very well. How many of you know in your hearts, in your bones, in your body that without God you couldn't, you wouldn't survive? For us, our belief and trust in God does not result from merely pondering or meditating on God, but on having a relationship with God. It's important to know that if your faith and relationship doesn't look like Abraham's, that's okay. But what is important is that you pursue a relationship. And our journeys with God are going to be different. We're going to experience God differently. That doesn't mean your faith is not as strong as someone else's faith. It just means that they're different. And as long as we're working on our faith and relationship with God, I don't believe that God is going to look at a gauge and say whether or not you have enough faith that you pray enough. God knows each and every one of us, and meets us where we're at. We experience God, we sense God, and we need God. And we know that we can trust God with our dreams, with our successes, and our failures. During our lives at every stage, God has proven to be faithful and steadfast. Even when we know we haven't always been. We know that we can count on God without full understanding or complete knowledge of what God is doing.

People were getting healed. There were rumors of a savior. We would overthrow our oppressors and be our true selves again under our true ruler. There were some disagreements among us at first, and some confusion, and some people got pretty belligerent, and they started arguing against us. And then, at the end, it's as if they got carried away with their inflammatory extremist ideas, and here we are. But it wasn't that sudden. There were signs. We just didn't pick up on the signs, because the signs were warning about us, not about them. So we kept going, and then we crossed the line, and we couldn't go back. We always assumed we were the good guys. We are the good guys. So then how did I end up holding these nails and this hammer in my hand? How did we get to be the executioners instead of the saviors? Like I said, it seems so sudden, but it wasn't really. There was a road we went down, an imperceptible slide down the road towards that cross. And at some point, we made a turn down the conventional path that tells us to conform to the empire's moral code.

Hospitality is also an integral part of our story tonight. And it's the one that surprised me. I consider myself a pretty great host. I love when people come to my home for dinner. I'm Greek, so there's always enough food to feed a small army. And I've crafted my own signature cocktail. And I've brought brightly colored linens home from my travels so I can tell the story of the amazing people I've met along the way. Hospitality, though, has another side, the surprise side. It turns out that I'm terrible at being a guest. I actually had a friend once grab me by the wrist and bring me back to the dining room so I would stop washing her dishes. I rarely allow myself to be the recipient of the service of others because that level of vulnerability might remind me that I might actually need someone to take care of me from time to time. Jesus shows us this night that if we are going to share hospitality without condescension, then we first have to allow ourselves to be the guest in someone else's home. Jesus begins this act of service, and only by receiving it can we know how to share it with others.

Having his last supper with the disciples a troubled Jesus announces that one of them is his betrayer. And do you know, if you read that carefully, every one of them is bewildered. They have no clue. And their uncertainty suggests that it could be any one of them. A notable example is Peter, who refutes that he would ever deny Jesus, but then does so three times, cock a doodle doo. And speaking of Peter, he's the one that beckons John, the beloved disciple, reclining right next to Jesus to ask for the name of the traitor. Well, and Jesus answers, kind of vaguely, It is the one to whom I give this piece of bread, he says. Well, Judas may have gotten the first piece of bread, but he didn't get the last piece of bread. They all share the very same communal bread and wine. And then we will do that very shortly together. And I take great comfort in doing that with you because I confess that I too have betrayed Jesus selling him out to suffering and death in this time and place by failing to love as I should. Here's the question before us in this day and age, isn't Jesus among us even now as the other? The last, the lost, the least, the lonely, and the left out. Jesus beckons us to love God and to love one another. And you know, fortunately we all have a community to do that, but many others do not. Now paradoxically, I think we can look to Judas for answers.

Jesus is describing his own death, a death he understands as necessary for our salvation. So, there's intimacy, vulnerability, and there's deep commitment born of love. We see all three of these in this Gospel reading. In our own lives are there moments we want to shy away. We want to turn away. We want to turn inward and avoid intimacy, avoid vulnerability, avoid any soul-deep commitment to love. I certainly know I've been in those places of avoidance. It's part of our human condition. And part of our conditioning. Intimacy may be interpreted as dependence, as vulnerability, or as weakness, as commitment to love may raise up the strongest sense of vulnerability. And yet we know love needs intimacy, of being willing to be present and close to another. Love requires vulnerability. Being willing to be seen, to be transparent in our moments of fear or struggle. Love needs steadfastness to endure the challenges and complexities of individuals, families, of communities. Intimacy, vulnerability, and steadfast love are interwoven.

Intimacy is connection. Knowing one another. Care and vulnerability. And what Mary shows to this man who is not only her teacher, but her friend, and who we were reminded in this story is the one who literally raised her brother up from the dead. She drops to her knees and she pours perfume all over his feet and she takes her hair and wipes it off. And you can imagine how uncomfortable everybody else was in the room. Judas, of course, is the one to say something because of course it's Judas. And John really makes sure to let us know what a dirtbag Judas is as if we didn't already remember, right? We know Judas, hot mess, we get it. But in this moment, we totally, there's something about Judas is like, oh, she, she shouldn't be doing that. You know, that money could have gone to the poor. Right? Which is no different than the kid being like, change the channel, they're kissing. It's the same thing. It's a reaction to intimacy. He has to change the subject because the intimacy on display is more than he can handle.

We know that the pain and the suffering is still to come. Thinking about the disciples more, are, are they walking along Jesus, flanking him? Might that be something we would have done? Or are some of them acting almost as an advance team, drawing the crowds, letting them know about Jesus, letting them know that here is the person they have been waiting for. Here is the Messiah. Way back when I was in my 20s I was very involved in political campaigns and I can remember being part of an advanced team and our whole job was to arrive early and to get people excited about the candidate who was to come, to get them excited about meeting them and to give a preview of their message. It was a very exciting time. I wonder what it would be like to be an advanced team for Jesus, to be able to tell people who Jesus was, why it was important that they meet him, know him. And we might ask, what are the disciples telling people to draw them to Jesus? In Matthew's gospel, they talk of how the city was stirred, the whole city was stirred by Jesus's arrival. And people were asking, who is this? And the crowds were responding, this is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth of Galilee. But what are the disciples telling people? How are they getting the people to turn out? How are they getting this incredible celebration? What would we tell people if we were the disciples? What do we tell people when we seek to introduce them to Jesus? When we want them to meet the Jesus we know?

And often this change that we really want is to desperately go back to when we remember what we remember as simpler or better or easier times. We want our churches to be like they were. And of course, they were wonderful. We want them and our world to slow down and stop changing. But unfortunately, staying static or spending all of our energy and words pining for what was or what could be, really isn't the way of Jesus. What is it Jesus says after he tells us to lose our life? He says, if any of you wants to serve me, then follow me, then you'll be where I am ready to serve at a moment's notice. Follow me, be where I am. Be ready to go where I am going. It's a challenge for us personally, but also collectively. We have to look for where Jesus is going and ask if we are willing to go there too. In January, 2020, just two months before COVID, before we knew what was coming our way, I was sitting in a room a lot like this with Bishop Michael Curry, and he was talking to young adults in Washington, DC, and he said something that I had never heard him say before. He said, what people forget is that the institution of the church exists in order to serve the movement of Jesus, not the other way around. The institution exists to serve the movement of Jesus. The movement of Jesus does not exist to serve the institution. I think that's a lot of what Jesus is talking about today, especially here in the year 2024. And I think we're being asked collectively if we are willing to lose the church we want in order to follow Jesus to go where he is reckless in our love. A love that has an internal impact. Are we willing to lose the church we want in order to be the church he's calling us to be? If we were to go where Jesus is, then we have to ask, so where is Jesus, right? Guest Preacher: Jerusalem Greer

People come at us, and we're not really sure where they're coming from. And sometimes our first instinct is to take whatever energies come up that are thrown our way and throw it right back. Someone wants to come at you with some kind of anger or argument., you're going to knock them down. This is the way of our world friends. This is the way we think. Whenever you come with me at my way, I'm going to throw right back at you. You know who I'm going to treat, right? The people who treat me right. And I define how I'm treated as right. And I'm not at all. If you come at me one way, I'm going to come right back at you and give it twice as hard. This is the way of the world, but also argue that this way of dealing with something coming our way that we don't quite understand what that energy is. I want to suggest that this is actually a way that we experience our relationship with God, because friends, we do not quite understand God and what God's doing and how God's doing it. God is mysterious and confusing and uncertain to us in so many ways. And so when we interact with God, we come into that conversation, into that situation, not really knowing what we're dealing with, right? Is this God that's coming my way? Is this God coming my way with anger and wrath? Is this God coming my way in some sort of furious puff of emotion? Is this God coming at me, judging me and here to tell me all the things that are wrong with me?

When Jesus gets angry, it's because someone is getting in the way of someone else experiencing God's love. In the case of the temple, the people that are there, are selling oxen and livestock and things like that which are meant for sacrifice according to the commandments, and that's part of how people atone, and keep their relationship with God. And the people who are there selling those things and exchanging money, it's clear that they're doing something, most likely price gouging. They're praying on the people's need for confession and absolution and they're profiting from that. And instead of helping people connect with God, they're actually getting in the way of people's connection with God. And friends, our goal as Christians always is to help people connect with the God who loves them. Our goal is to love and to help others to love and be loved.

He had on multiple occasions, masterfully bested fierce opposition for the most respected religious authorities. He astounded the crowds with his teachings and actions. And he demonstrated both the power and authority expected of a Messiah. However, such an expectation comes up short. It distorts one's vision and makes one see with the human eyes on one level, Peter's eyes did not cause him to miscalculate Jesus's power. Peter was able to see all of Jesus's wondrous feats. However, he was not understanding what Jesus was aiming to accomplish. He and the other disciples seem to be more preoccupied where Jesus' messianic power and title are rather than his life-giving mission. Of course, the title Messiah is important for establishing an authority bestowed by God. But what good is a title when detached from Jesus' counter cultural mission to seek and save the lost, the broken and outcast? No. Peter's mind wasn't capable of envisioning all the possibilities accessible to God, especially not a God who came to serve and not be served. Not when the stakes are so high, when doing what is accomplished by the human eye and mind would not accomplish what God accomplished through Jesus Christ for humanity. So, maybe Peter doesn't deserve any partial credit at all. Maybe placing limits on God because of human desires is something exactly from the devil. Because there is just too much at stake. To announce Jesus as the Messiah before his true glorification would be inadequate and incomplete. For the Son of Man must undergo suffering, rejection, and death. It is precisely for this reason that his followers, including Peter, would eventually take up their crosses and lose their lives.

You are a daughter of God, in you, God is well pleased. You are a son of God, in you, God is well pleased. And I have heard this and I have come to believe it and it has changed the way I understand my whole relationship with God, to understand that I'm not trying to become a beloved child of God. I am beloved. I am God's son. And this is a part of my core identity and is meant to be a part of all of our core identities. This has been the end, the climax of a lot of the sermons that I've preached, not just here but throughout my, preaching career, to remind you all, to remind us all of our belovedness. Because I've always thought I need to remember it, first of all. But secondly, I'm kind of a restless person. And I keep thinking, well, if I just believe in my belovedness, it'll give me some peace. If I can just find a home in my belovedness and God's loving me unconditionally, then I will maybe be a little bit less restless. Maybe I'll be a little bit more peaceful and calm and things will get easier for me. That's my hope for me. And that's my hope for you. But then I read the text today and you'll notice that Jesus is baptized. And he comes out of the water, and the sky cracks open, and the Holy Spirit lights upon him like a dove, and God says, this is my son, you are my son, my beloved, and in you, I am well pleased. And then it says, and immediately, the Spirit drove him out into the wilderness. Well, crap.

"Maybe your mother would be up on that hill or an aunt that helped you or a grandfather that mentored you. Would it be someone who has shaped the way you see the world like Moses and Elijah did? Would it be James Baldwin up on that hill or Ayn Rand or something like that? Moses and Elijah both had a sort of national reality. Would it be Thomas Jefferson or George Washington on that hill or the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King? Would you find Ronald Reagan on that hill or FDR? Who would be on that hill for you as you go up? Who are the people that shape you? Who are the people that have made you see the world a specific way? Because that is what happens with Jesus. It's not just this symbolic reality that he embodies the law and the prophets. It is that he faces those who have shaped him and influenced him. And this is a moment of great importance because we realize when we hear this story that we are never actually alone in our lives. Jesus is a singular figure, we know this, but Jesus is shaped and accompanied by those who have gone before. And as the story says, he is watched over even by God who loves him, sees him as beloved."

Jesus came and took her by the hand and lifted her up, and the fever left her, and she began to serve them. I almost asked Deacon Gary to take a long pause after that verse in our gospel today, so all the women in the room could have a collective eye roll together. Please. The only woman spoken of in the beginning of Mark is sick and laid up in bed, and given no name but servant. When I first read the story, I did pause. I was reading the lesson to my husband in our home, and thankfully he's still alive today. Because his eye roll matched mine. Right on cue. I think my first response was, Ugh, let this lady take a nap. She's obviously tired. I was more than a little irritated at our gospel today. Here we go. Another biblical lesson of woman, know your place. I could feel my own temperature rising up in solitude with my stricken sister. And then I remembered

Well, how are we different from Jesus first disciples? Well, we have a significant advantage. We know what was accomplished through God's work through Jesus Christ. We know the end of the story. We know that like Jesus' disciples, we have been drawn into God's plan of reconciliation and restoration of creation. And we know that dropping our nets and following Jesus can be nothing but life-giving to us and to others. And we know that despite the uncertain nature of following Jesus, we can trust in God's love and protection and the promise that sin and death do not have the last say. We also know that, like for Jesus' disciples, God in Christ shows and will show up at the most unexpected moments in our lives. The only question is, how will we respond to those gift-filled moments? Will we continue to grasp tightly onto human sources of security, human-defined identities, and human celebrated values and principles? Will we continue to remain close to the possibility of living under the true reign of God or instead, in a world that perpetuates inequity, greed, hate, and death? In a world where we are all imprisoned by injustice, war, violence, fear, power, oppression, policing, and control. It would be a lie to say that discipleship has no cost. There's a, long list of people who would suggest otherwise, including the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, whose birthday we celebrated this week. And along with other martyrs and saints of the Christian faith, including their original disciples. However, when we look beyond those costs, can see what the disciples saw?

You know how they say you are what you eat? Well, I've always been so curious about why the Gospel writers found it necessary to share with us what John ate. Locusts and wild honey. What a strange detail. I know we don't often take time to dig into little things like this, but it's my job. So, I went down a rabbit hole for several hours, and let me just save you some time on research. There's almost nothing written about why he ate locusts and wild honey. So, I'd like you to just go with me on this trip. Just imagine for a moment what these foods could be saying to us symbolically about John the Baptist? What if John's food is a symbolic intaking of both the blessings and the curses that are present in our Gospel? What would it mean for us if John consumed the plague brought upon the empire to help make the people free? What if the locusts represent the hives that consumed the crops of Pharaoh before the exodus showing God's power over nature as a reminder to even the most powerful people on earth that there are some things that even they cannot control? And what about this wild honey? What are we to make of this sweet delight? I like to think of it as the nourishment that offsets the curse. A symbolic drink representing the promises of God. The place of peace and security, where war and hatred cease. A land flowing with milk and wild honey. If it is true that you are what you eat, John is showing us that a person who points the way to God is also someone who acknowledges that we must take into ourselves both the blessing and the curse. We must, acknowledge it all so that from us can come a proclamation of forgiveness.

We often forget the strangeness of this story that comes to us Because we've cleaned it up and made it so nice and familiar This sweet little baby this silent night all cuddled up and swaddling clothes But it wasn't like that was it? It was so much more real and raw and messy. A refugee family seeking shelter among animals A message of social upheaval and the destruction of the political system that kept things in order. The chosen messengers, poor and dirty and odd. A most highly favored lady, but no lady by the queen's standards. This story is all about how things are changing, how God is flipping the script on the way things have always been, and we are told, do not be afraid, and maybe, if you got it in ya, you could sing. The message of Christmas is completely counter cultural. Look at how our world has been wrapped in fear. Segregation, isolation, the hoarding of resources, contempt for our neighbor, contempt for our planet, the insidious presence of cynicism that claims everything is terrible. I have nothing to be grateful for, nothing to be happy about, and that constant reminder of failed expectations, which allows fear to become the status quo. But Christmas, Christmas stands in opposite, in opposition to fear, to bring us a story of how when Mary and the shepherds heard the good news, heard that God was coming to dwell among us, heard that Jesus was coming to change the world, their response was to sing. So singing, we are taught, is the first step in letting joy. Replace our fears in our lives, our real lives. When the house is a mess and your kid is whining about how crispy or not their chicken nugget is, put on some Lizzo.

In September, after I'd been here at Redeemer for only one month, I had to have cataract surgery. Never mind that I had decided when I was young that I would never need cataract surgery. Apparently it wasn't my decision. But people told me that cataract surgery is no big deal. That's true about the surgery. It's a simple procedure. What WAS a big deal was the instructions the doctor gave me. He said that I could not wear eye makeup for a week after surgery. And I panicked. It sounds funny when I tell you how devastating this was for me, but here's why. When I was in seventh grade, my social studies teacher read aloud from our world history book a passage about the history of China. The book went into detail about the Chinese people--their weird singsong language, their strange habits, their yellow skin, and especially, their grotesque slanted eyes. As he read, my schoolmates turned around and made slanted-eye faces at me, laughing. It was humiliating to my core. I felt deep, deep shame at myself, and deep, deep fear of the world that suddenly made itself known to me. At that moment, I was exposed as an unacceptable human being--not truly human, but rather, Chinese. Lowly. Mostly, it was the eyes. So from that time on, for the next sixty-plus years, I began wearing eye makeup--not to look better, but to hide who I really was--a person of Chinese descent with those strange habits and the grotesque slanted eyes. I put on eye makeup every single day, no matter what--even when I was sick, in the hospital, in the middle of the pandemic when I knew I would not be seen by anyone. I wore it to hide who I was from myself as well as from the world--lowly.

Empire is not a friend of anyone. Empire does not strive towards the well-being and thriving of every created life. Empire puts wealth, resources, knowledge, comfort, and God's abundance in the hands of a few. While others live lives of insecurity, uncertainty, misery, and hopelessness. An empire of human beings are nothing but a form of commodity and high value is placed on materiality, military force, and war. Empire distorts our understanding of peace of order and of happiness. And sadly, empire places more value on the lives of some and less on others. An empire makes our neighbors other. Importantly, swimming in the waters of empire put our identities as Christians in jeopardy. It is at odds with our proclamation of Christ being our true king. It is also at odds with every one of us living into the promises of God. and people becoming who God created us to be. Instead of holding most firmly to our Christian identities, empire encourages us to hold on tightly to, even idolize, identities of race, of nationality, ethnicity, gender, physical ability, political affiliations, political ideologies, political leaders, economic and social status. The fallout has been, is, and will continue to be enormous. We now live in a world that is more divided and volatile than ever. We have become a people driven by fear, greed, self-preservation, iInstead of ones motivated by love, hope, generosity and grace, but all is not lost.

You're downtown. You're on your way to the Bengals game, and you see a panhandler on the street with a sign. Hungry. Please give. You do one of three things. You pull out your wallet and give him a dollar. Or you shake your head to say no. Or you look straight ahead, trying not to catch his eye as you walk by him. And then you feel guilty and you wonder, Did I just become a goat because I did not feed the least of my brothers and sisters? Jesus told me that when I feed the hungry, I'm feeding the king. And when I refuse, I refuse the king. And as you keep walking with those troubling thoughts, you look up and you see six more panhandlers ahead of you Is every single panhandler the king who judges us? Are we being tested every time we do or do not help the needy? Does a king really count up all of the times that we give a handout and balance them out against all the times we don't? The king gathers up everybody and separates the good from the bad. Or as we say in theological terms, separates the keepies from the creepies. The sheep from the goats. Which I kind of object to because I think it's unfair to goats. So, for today, I am going to substitute for the more accurate hagfish. Also known as slime eels. Because hagfish are out only for themselves. And they spew slime at any strangers who come near. Just like in this story.

You all may have heard this story from Jesus described as an economy of virtues. I've heard it that way in the past. God gives us each a spiritual gift some people are special, so they get more gifts, a very convenient translation for all the high achievers in the room. Anyway, everyone gets something and don't worry, God won't give you more than you can handle. But, just like late-stage capitalism, this story doesn't check out. God wants a good return on his investment? Better read up on those self-improvement manuals because Jesus is coming, so you better look busy. The end of that story is some idealized version of Streets of Gold and Gates of Pearl, where all the people who annoyed you here on Earth are far away, and you can just sit alone in a big white room, eating bonbons, while angels circle round and sing Latin renditions of Toby Keith songs. The moral of that story is, use the gifts that God has given you, so you can get that divine pat on the back and hear the words we all long to hear, well done, good and faithful servant. Today I'd like to look at this Gospel lesson from a different perspective. I'd like to ask, what if? What if this passage is less about getting what you deserve, and more about an impending and uncalendared eschaton that begs us to examine our lives and ask the question, if Jesus stood before me today, would I be ready to give an account for the hope that is within me?

We can certainly relate to these foolish bridesmaids. I mean, I certainly can. In the busyness of our lives, not always are we able to think three or four or five steps ahead. Not always are we able to consider all of the additional planning we need to have in mind. Particularly in the busyness of our lives, we may be hustling through each day. We may be realizing we don't have a meal covered or we don't have time for a project or time for something for work or school. We may need to figure out how we're going to take care of a family member or provide transportation to a soccer match. or how we're going to work in a commitment we've made in this community. We find ourselves scrambling to get back on track. We may reach out to others for help, and they may be scrambling too. So, life can be messy. So, we can relate to foolish bridesmaids. But what about the wise bridesmaids? They were clearly not willing to share their oil, not willing to function as a community with the others and give others advice that sends them away and ultimately keeps them out of the banquet. Doesn't this fly in the face of so many of Jesus's teachings of sharing what we have of loving our neighbor as ourselves? We may be able to relate to these wise bridesmaids on those times, those occasions when we find ourselves really prepared and on top of things. And possibly not impressed by those who are kind of straggling in at the last minute with work half done like we have done ourselves on many occasions.