Sermon, Advent II, Year B, Mark 1:1-8, 10 December 2017

“He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.”[1] This is a strange message on the second weekend of Advent, the second weekend of our journey toward the birth of Christ. We expect, because of the popularity of the stories from Matthew’s and Luke’s gospels, to relax into a comfortable retelling of the time leading to the nativity, including shepherds and angels.

So what do we get from this Gospel? The Gospel of Mark has neither a birth narrative nor a real end. No angels and shepherds appear in Mark’s Gospel. And this Gospel leaves us at the end with an empty tomb. At least, according to most accepted ending of Mark’s Gospel.

So this is how it goes this year. Last week was the second coming of Jesus. This week it’s John the Baptizer jumping in to the scene. And next week we switch to the Gospel of Luke to hear Mary’s encounter with the angel.

This year’s Gospel readings sound about as erratic and jumpy as most of us may be feeling right now. So much left undone; so much left to do yet.

The last thing most of need to hear is John the Baptist crying, “Prepare the way of the Lord. Make his paths straight. I mean really, we’ve got too many other things to worry about this time of year.

But what might “preparing the way of the Lord,” mean for us, in the midst of all the other preparations we’re making. Could we find time to prepare for the coming of Christ the King, not just in the actual time of Christ, but now?

In the time of Christ, preparing the way for the king meant manual labor. The king came in his chariot and in front of him came the workers preparing the road, making straight the path on which the king’s chariot could ride unencumbered. The coming of the king meant something major going on, and all the rough places must be smoothed out to make easy traveling for the king’s chariot. A hustle and bustle must have preceded the king’s chariot: a clutch of road workers and equipment and beasts of burden and labor and preparation.

I know it’s tempting to compare this hustle and bustle and hassle of preparing the road to what we do in our lives to prepare our homes for Christmas: the tree, the gifts, the food.

This is different though. What John the Baptist is calling us to do is to prepare our hearts for the coming of Christ. John calls us to open ourselves to the baptism of the Holy Spirit that Jesus offers so we may receive the greatest gift of all: the coming of God into our lives.

John is talking about more than a one time, lightning flash deal though. He’s not talking about being “slain in the Spirit” or “convicted,” although there may be elements of that for some of us in our lives.

To receive this great gift though, we are required to anticipate, to prepare, to make straight our own road to allow Christ and the baptism of the Holy Spirit to enter us.  Making straight a path for the Lord requires the repentance of which John speaks.

The word repentance seems rather old-fashioned to us now. It’s a word from the past, heavily weighted with other baggage: being sorry for our sins, guilty, ashamed. Yet what repentance meant in John’s time and still can mean in our time comes to us from both the Greek and Hebrew verbs. In Greek, repentance is similar to, “changing one’s mind.” In Hebrew the verb has the connotation of “changing direction” or “turning around.”

What this means for us during Advent, during this time of preparation and waiting, is to make straight the way for the Spirit to enter us by turning around, by changing direction toward God rather than away from God.

We look into the past and take time to see how God has already worked in our lives. And then we turn toward those life-giving things. We turn away from those things in the past that have pulled us away from God. We turn from those things that dragged us down, were sins, or made us guilty or ashamed of our own behavior.

Sometimes those things require us, as Alcoholics Anonymous says, to make amends. To go to the people we have wounded and tell them we are sorry for having hurt them. To tell them we want to turn away from the past and make a new future of peace and harmony. Sometimes we find we must examine our own habits and turn away from those that have failed to give us life. And we turn toward those things that will make straight a path for God to reach us.

Those life-giving things can be prayer, they can be actions of healing, they can be bright moments when we see God and say “Thanks be to God.” All these things make straight a path for the Lord Jesus Christ and the coming of the Holy Spirit. May we open ourselves to Jesus preparing a way in us and making our paths straight. AMEN.

©2017

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[1] Mark 1:8b (NRSV)

Sermon, Advent I, Year B, Mark 13:24-37, 3 December 2017

“Keep awake!” Words for the first Sunday in Advent. We’re not sure whether Jesus is describing a fantasy or making a prediction for the future. Scholars and learners throughout the centuries have interpreted Mark’s gospel and other words of Jesus to mean we need to prepare for the end of the world. Each age has thought their age might be that time.

Yesterday I drove to Northern Kentucky for the burial service of a dear friend. There are so many words I could use to describe him and the way he was. But what best describes him is that he taught by doing. He taught a steady and creative work ethic by doing his own work steadily and creatively. He taught curiosity by being curious. He taught laughter by laughing.

Best of all, he taught love by loving. When he listened to the news he thought the end of the world was imminent, and so he lived his life as though it might end at any moment. He stayed awake and aware to God’s presence. He taught and learned God’s love by loving.

One other thing in this particular passage from Mark’s gospel, some believe Jesus is speaking about what his followers will endure in the future. Others think Mark wrote his gospel he after the Jewish temple was destroyed in the year 70. They believe Mark was re-interpreting Jesus’ words in light of that current event. Either way, these words this morning don’t seem full of good news, do they? Jesus’ words in this morning’s gospel seem just the reverse: pretty depressing for most of us trying to follow him.

Yet there is good news here. The good news is contained in the end of this particular reading in the words: “Keep awake!” Because either way, whether Jesus was speaking of what is to come, or whether the evangelist who wrote the gospel was viewing Jesus’ words in light of events in his own lifetime, the message is the same: “Keep awake!”

Keep awake sounds attractive to practical people. Even those of us who are not so practical have to be practical enough to get up each day, get dressed and eat. If we spent all our time dreaming we’d never get out of bed. So “Keep awake” is likely the message we hear each morning, whether from our alarm clocks or our body clocks.

“Keep awake,” appeals to us because keeping awake involves some kind of action, rather than just waiting for the other shoe to drop. For some people the idea of the end of the world can be frightening. It can make us a bit like one of our legislators during colonial New England. An eclipse was occurring and several of the state legislators panicked and entertained a move to adjourn the session. But one of them spoke up, “Mr. Speaker, if it is not the end of the world and we adjourn, we shall appear to be fools. If it is the end of the world, I should choose to be found doing my duty. I move you, sir, that candles be brought.”

This story illustrates for me what most of us want, to clarify these predictions of the end times. Not only do we want to know when, more importantly, we want to know what to do. What is our duty? If we are living in the end times, no matter how long the end takes, what shall we do? How shall we act?

“Keep awake!” sounds right to me because I know someone who lived his life keeping awake to need. My friend whose burial I attended yesterday woke up each morning to that command. He looked each day for how he could help someone, for how he could make his or her life better. He knew his duty as one of God’s people, was to keeping awake and aware of who needed his help each day. He knew his duty was to be awake to and respond to the person who needed a smile, or a laugh, or to be loved.

We forget that Advent is not just a time to wait for Christmas to get here. Advent is also a time to “Keep awake!” to what God is asking us to do in this time between the first Advent and the second.

“Keep awake!” calls us to remember that what we do matters, whether Jesus’ second coming comes today whether or a long time from today.

Jesus calls us to our responsibility to be awake to God’s daily Advent breaking into our lives. Without awareness and a sense of possibility, we are still asleep. Perhaps instead of asking ourselves about what to do if these are the end times, we should ask ourselves instead, where have we been awake? Where have we seen God breaking into our midst and calling to us, “Wake up!” Keep awake!”? What parts of our lives might still be sleeping and in need of that wake up call?

Jesus calls us in this “between time” between the first coming and the second to be both doers and reporters of God’s work in the world. When we tell Jesus’ story in our own lives, the story will inspire and draw others to God. When we continue to work for and tell about God’s almighty purpose, others will feel that power and form a sense of purpose with us.  And as we continue to make this place – God’s church in Bexley, Ohio – an inviting place where God’s Word and Sacrament are held in the highest esteem, then we are keeping awake. We are alert to the coming of God. And like the legislator in old New England, we will find others who will see we are doing our duty by lighting candles in the darkness to show forth the glory of God. AMEN.

©2017

Sermon Proper 29, Year A, Matthew 25:14-30, 26 November 2017

         If I gave sermons titles, I’d probably title this one “The Maybes’ Surprise.” Although maybe I wouldn’t since the title would sound a little like a tell-all television show about a family of hillbillies.

Today’s Gospel though, is full of “maybes,” those things that could be this or that, or something in between, or even something completely different from anything we’ve thought about before. You know, something that was a “maybe,” a possibility, becomes a surprise!

Many of us are people leading ordered lives. We don’t like anything that disturbs the order of our days even if the surprises turn out to be pleasant. We would rather plan our days ourselves, without any interference from others and maybe even without any surprises from God.

         This parable of the sheep and the goats is a parable that is a surprise. It’s a surprise full of maybes. Did you notice that neither the sheep nor the goats knew when they saw Jesus? One group responds, “Lord, when did we?” The other group responds, “Lord, when didn’t we?” Both groups are surprised when Jesus describes the outcome of their behavior.

         What do you think both those groups are surprised about? Are those righteous ones surprised they acted in a righteous way? And are those unrighteous ones surprised they acted in an unrighteous way? Here come the maybes, right along with the surprises: Maybe both groups are surprised they failed to recognize Jesus. Maybe both groups are surprised at where Jesus chooses to hang out and with whom: the hungry, the naked, the sick, the imprisoned the unclean, the enemy. Maybe the reason both groups are surprised is because they expected to see Jesus somewhere else.

         Today is the last Sunday of the Pentecost Season, a Sunday that has been known since the 1920s as the Feast of Christ the King, or the Reign of Christ. And when most of us think of a king, we think of power and glory and might and wealth and all that stuff that seems to go along with a King. And Jesus does, indeed, begin his parable describing a king in glory on a throne waited on by angels. So even that reinforces what we think and know about kings and power.

         Yet the parable shows this same royal person who notices the people who help and heal those who are least important, least powerful, and least capable of helping themselves. Maybe this parable asks us to look elsewhere than in places of power and glory and might and wealth to see God. Maybe this parable asks us to redirect ourselves and experience God in people and places we never have before.

         Maybe this is the parable in which Jesus tells us he will be with those that are least important, least powerful, and least capable of helping themselves. Then maybe Jesus is telling us if we want to experience the real power and glory and might and wealth of God, we will look for those things where we think we are least likely to find them. We will look among the least important people, the ones with no influence or power, those that are helpless to help themselves, those without resources to dig out of the pits they inhabit. And maybe we are called to see God in our enemies, in those who differ from us morally, politically, intellectually, physically, or in any other way.

         Take a moment to think about the maybes in your life. You know what they are, things like this. Maybe I could surprise God and myself by speaking to that person I disagree with at work. Maybe I could surprise God and myself by asking the grocery clerk why she’s not wearing her usual sweet smile today. Maybe I could surprise God and myself by asking that person I disagreed with so violently in the last election if she or he would like to have a coffee. Maybe I would discover things about the person that transcend politics. Maybe I could surprise God and myself by foregoing my usual after church group and asking someone I don’t know very well how they’re doing today. And maybe I could surprise God and myself by listening, really listening to the person. Maybe I could surprise God and myself by taking the money I usually spend on a Frappuccino every week and adding it to my pledge. Because maybe, just maybe, God would be surprised that I was listening! Imagine what you might learn about God, other people and yourself.

Now here’s the surprise. You’ve done things like this before. That means you can do those things again, or something like those things again. You can actually go do those things you thought about just now. And you can listen and wait to see how Jesus will ask you to make more maybes and surprise God and yourself. And those are the things that help to bring about God’s reign right here, right now.

         Maybe this parable isn’t about judgment but about mercy. Maybe that’s the Jesus we know holding out his loving arms when we are the ones who are most broken, most needy, most vulnerable, and least powerful. That’s the Jesus who shows us what to do for the broken and needy, the vulnerable and least powerful. That’s the Jesus we know and love and who loves us. AMEN.

©2017