Exodus 20:1-4, 7-9, 12-20

Matthew 21:33-46

As I went down to the river to pray
Studying about that good ol’ way
And who shall wear the robe and crown
Good Lord, show me the way

This is the song we sang to begin our worship at the river front over the summer.  It was the same song that came to me as I was down by the river earlier this week.  I’ve been known to hike up on the mountains to find inspiration, but sometimes all you can do is drag yourself down to the river.

It was on Thursday afternoon, during a small window between the storms.  Since late summer, Beacon has felt more like Seattle, with the days of rain far outnumbering the sunshine.  On the way to the River front park, I came to about six inches of rainwater that had flooded the train station parking lot.  I stopped briefly, then drove through, knowing that I had to seize the moment.

The storm clouds were gathering in the west, across the river.  But, on the river itself, the sun’s rays poured down, reflecting tiny diamonds of light off the ripples.  The highlands to the south were wrapped in mist that seemed illuminated in gold.  

The river water lapped the large rocks and the point of the park.  They are the kind of large rocks that people like to climb on, and on low tide one can travel way out into the water by hopping from rock to rock.  But, these wet rocks can be pretty slick.  You have to take care not to fall.

“The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone,” Jesus says, “The one who falls on this stone will be broken to pieces.”  

Our new testament reading for today is yet another one of Jesus’ parables that confront the religious leaders during his last week before the crucifixion.  In the parable, God has planted a vineyard and left it in the hands of the religious leaders.  When it was time to give God what was due, they beat up and killed God’s collectors.  The reference was thinly veiled.  Everyone knew what had been done to the prophets over the years - the ones who reminded the people of God’s priority.  They had been killed.

This happened repeatedly, until God decided to send his son saying, ‘They will respect my son.’ But when the tenants saw the son, they said to themselves, ‘This is the heir; come, let us kill him and get his inheritance.” So they seized him, threw him out of the vineyard, and killed him.

Days before his death, Jesus has no doubt that he will receive the same fate as the prophets.  And, he points the finger directly at the religious leaders who are too busy protecting their own interests, too busy serving themselves, to harvest the fruits for God’s kingdom.

And, we hear about the stone that the builders rejected becoming the cornerstone... which is an image that has stuck with me over the years.  It’s beautiful, and powerful, a rejected stone - by God’s grace and purpose, serving such an important role in the structure.

However, this week was the first time that I took seriously the lines that followed it: “The kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people that produces the fruits of the kingdom.  The one who falls on this stone will be broken to pieces; and it will crush anyone on whom it falls.”

The message is hauntingly clear: we are expected to produce fruits for the kingdom.  

The unavoidable question is, are we - as individuals and as a congregation - producing the fruits of the kingdom?

Let that question sit with you for a while.  

In our Old Testament scripture lesson, we heard about those cherished ten commandments, given by God - the guidelines of living for the people of God.  Surely, by following these commandments, we might bear fruit.

Yet, if we are honest with ourselves, it’s easier said than done.  

You shall have no other gods before me.  Really?  Is God really our top priority?  Is God even in the top ten of our priorities... when we think about our commitments of time, money, and energy?

You shall not make for yourself an idol.  We have made all kinds of things that we put our trust in and that we expect to provide for us... money, military might, governments.  How is that going for us right now?

How many times have you dishonored the name of God?  And, how’s that Sabbath rest coming?  Remember, that commandment to drop everything and let God take care of us.  How often do we do that?  Hmmm, how well do we care for the , for the Lord will not acquit anyone who misuses his name.

Do I need to go any further?  How are you doing with honoring your father and mother if they are still on this earth?  How are you doing with that if they are no longer with you?

I don’t even want to get into all those “you shall nots” because it just gets downright uncomfortable... depressing, even.  We are - if we are honest with ourselves - deceitful, covetous, greedy, and opportunistic.  And, whether we want to admit to it, there’s blood on our hands.

Is it any wonder then, that the people were terrified when God gave them these laws?  Scripture says that they were afraid of the thunder and lightning, and that they trembled and stood at a distance and said to Moses, “You speak to us, and we will listen; but do not let God speak to us, or we will die.”

Moses said to the people, “Do not be afraid; for God has come only to test you and to put the fear of him upon you so that you do not sin.”

After about a half an hour down at the river front park, the wind picked up.  The storm clouds were moving East quickly and Newburgh was engulfed in the blur of falling rain.  I had just enough time to get to the car before we were engulfed, too.

It was beautiful and powerful and I found myself grateful... for a God of such beauty and power.  Grateful for a God brought the chosen people out of slavery and who calls each of us to freedom even today.  Grateful for a God who is so much more than our sins and our struggles.  Grateful for a God that chose to take on flesh and walk among us... healing us... showing us the way... even if it meant rejection and death.  Grateful for the cornerstone... the stone that the builder rejected.

Those Pharisees, they were too busy calculating their own self-preservation, instead of opening up... instead of letting go... to God in their midst.  Holding their ground, stuck in their places, they were setting themselves up to be crushed under the cornerstone.   But, what if, instead of holding their ground, they were to let go... to fall... to fall as the scripture says... to be broken by the cornerstone.

Maybe that’s the deep invitation in all of this... to dare let go... to dare to fall... to dare to let ourselves be broken open on the cornerstone.  Maybe it’s in the broken soil of our broken souls that the seeds for the fruit of the kingdom are planted.

Oh, sinners let’s go down
Let’s go down, don’t you wanna come down?
Oh, sinners let’s go down
Down to the river to pray.

As I went down to the river to pray
Studying about that good ol’ way
And who shall wear the robe and crown
Good Lord, show me the way

Is the Lord Among Us or Not?



Exodus 17:1-7

Matthew 21:23-32
---

The chief priests and the elders in the Temple had certainly heard of Jesus. There was no doubt about it. The stories of his miracles and his powerful teaching had spread like wildfire. And, they had rippled from the country-sides he travelled all the way back to Jerusalem.

But, what was he to them? There always seemed to be rabbis wandering the deserts, gathering disciples, teaching them in the ways of the Torah. True, the buzz about this Jesus was so much more than the others before him. Then again, John - that wild man wearing camel hair and baptizing people in the desert - attracted quite a following, too. And look where he ended up... his head on Herod’s platter.

These wandering wise-men - these faith healers - they never seemed to last very long, unlike the Temple leadership... the priests and the elders. Instead of providing excitement, they provided stability and tradition. They kept the ritual requirements and upheld all the structures and the administration required to maintain the Temple sacrifices. There were always plenty of pilgrims coming to offer sacrifices, so there was always work to do... and meat to eat. And, with the Temple tax, they were well taken care of.

And, they were the ones that the Romans officially recognized and dealt with. It was an unenviable position in some ways... that uncomfortable position in between the people of God and their pagan overlords. But, they were well-compensated... and well protected... as long as they kept the peace.




Which, to be honest, was getting harder and harder with Jesus around. Earlier, in the week, he had made his entrance into Jerusalem on a donkey - hearkening back to King David. The crowds had gone wild, and the Romans got antsy. The next day, he was in the Temple turning over the tables of the money-changers and chasing out the merchants selling animals to be sacrificed. The priests - heck, the whole sacrificial system - relied on these merchants and money changers. What was he doing?!?

So, we come to our confrontation for today. It was there chance to settle things with this trouble-maker… to get things back in order. “Why are you doing this Jesus? Who gave you the authority to do all this?” It was really less of a question and more of a reminder that THEY were the religious experts, especially here in Jerusalem... THEY were ones managing the Temple... THEY were the ones who represented the people before God and the Romans... THEY were the ones in authority.

And yet, in their response to Jesus’ question - rather, their inability to respond - they reveal just how little they understood of God’s authority.

It was an easy question… really. “Was the baptism of John a human thing or a God thing?”

The people that flocked to John - to hear his message and receive his baptism in the wilderness - knew that God was up to something. They left their lives behind and turned them toward God. Tax collectors stopped exploiting their brothers and sisters on behalf of the Romans and their toadies in the Temple. Prostitutes gave up making money by degrading themselves. These - and many more like them - went to John in the desert because they were ready for something new. They were thirsty for new life.






In the fullness of time Jesus came, the One John was preparing the way for. And, the crowds grew. Not only the prostitutes and the tax collectors followed him, but also the blind who were given sight... the lame who were made to walk again... the dead who were brought back to life... the thirsty who were given Living Water.

“Is the Lord among us or not?” This was the question that the thirsty Israelites asked in the desert, and this is really the question that Jesus was asking the Temple leaders.

To the crowds who followed Jesus, to all of those who were desperate for the Living Water he gave, the answer was simple. Not so for the Temple priests and elders. They were supposed to be the God people. But they could see God’s presence when it was right in front of their faces.


So, instead of opening their eyes to God’s presence, or at least to the people who had been restored to life around them, they argued until they came up with an answer that would protect them. And, in all their calculating, their answer of, “We don’t know,” revealed their inability to perceive God’s presence in their midst.

But, if their answer didn’t reveal their lack of faith enough, Jesus’ parable sealed the deal. For, of course, they were the second son. They were the ones who came from generations of priestly families. They excelled in Hebrew school and in Torah school. They were the ones who said they were doing the work of God. But, when God’s work was tangible in their midst... they refused to turn their lives and get on board.

But the tax collectors and the prostitutes, and all the others who had once turned away from God’s invitation, they changed their minds. The ones who had originally seemed farthest from God were actually the ones who turned around and responded to God’s presence in their midst. They were the ones already entering the Kingdom of Heaven.

In our Old Testament lesson, the Israelites cried out for water. They were in danger of dying of thirst in the desert and, trust me, to die of thirst is a horrible death. From our years of living in the desert, we heard too many stories of migrants who got lost or who ran out of water while crossing the desert from Mexico to the U.S.

Make no mistake, the cries of the Israelites were no mere complaints. They were cries of desperation. They were so upset, so angry, they took it out on their leader Moses, who got them into the mess. They were ready to stone him. Human flesh doesn’t stand a chance when struck by a rock.

Instead, God, who seems to flip everything on its head, says to Moses, “Strike the rock.” Go to Horeb, the place I first revealed myself to you and strike the rock with your staff. Moses did, and living water burst forth. God was with them, indeed.

Friends, the good news is that we don’t have to have all the scriptures memorized. We don’t need to know all the right words to the prayers or the right words to say. We don’t have to be perfect. We just have to be honest. Sometimes, we find ourselves like the tax collectors and the prostitutes... empty and hollow because of our choices. Sometimes we find ourselves like the Israelites in the desert... desperate because of our circumstances. Sometimes we find ourselves like the Temple elders… stuck in our ways, unable to see God. The good news is that - however we find ourselves - when we cry out and turn our lives, Living Water awaits us.

So, if your friends... from work or school… or if someone at Spirit of Beacon day asks you, “Is the Lord among us or not?” what will you say?

Amen.

God is SO not fair!



I rarely manage to come up with sermon titles, but as I’ve been chewing on this text - another one of Jesus’ parables that display the kingdom of heaven - the working title has been, “God’s is SO not fair.”

We’ve all heard this exchange before. Most of us have been a part of it, on one side or the other. It usually involves a young person - most often it’s a teenager - and an older, wiser person in authority... a parent, a teacher, someone like that.

After the older person gives the younger person a boundary or limitation, the younger person responds, “But, it’s not fair!” And the older person responds with: “Life’s not fair.”

The so-called pursuit of fairness started early in my life, whenever something needed to be divided between my brother and I. If whatever was being divided wasn’t perfectly equal, the onslaught of whining would commence. I’d like to say that we were champions of justice, but the truth is, we were really motivated by the simple moral: “If I can’t get more than him, I’m sure as heck not gonna let him get more than me.”

I can only imagine how much the relentless pursuit of fairness aggravated my mother. Until she came up with the ingenious, “one split, the other pick” strategy. Talk about an internal motivation to make sure things were equal! Not only that, but we were forced to master a whole new level of precision when it came to dividing things. For those fleeting moments, at least, my brother and I were able to negotiate a measure of fairness in a world that is - by most accounts, pretty unfair.

All around us, we see examples of people given so much more than they deserve. They have so much. Life seems so easy for them. On the flip side, we know folks who seems to carry much more than their fair share of struggles... of suffering. Maybe we can relate to that ourselves.

Recently, I was visiting someone who had realized that they were done with the struggle. They had been fighting terminal illness valiantly for several years, and they were exhausted. They had so much more living they wanted to do, but they realized it was not to be. While previous visits had been about coping strategies - about staying strong and staying positive - the conversation shifted this time... to reflections on their life, gratitudes, regrets, funeral plans.

They let out a sigh, “It’s just not fair.” Life - and death - isn’t fair.

The kingdom of heaven is like a landowner who went out early in the morning to hire laborers for his vineyard.

He would have gone down to the market area where the day-laborers would gather, hoping to be hired for work. These gathering places can be found - even today - in large cities or other places where there is a large migrant population.. Folks who need work done in their yard or on their house know where to go... maybe it’s a particular corner or maybe it’s a hardware store parking lot.

In fact, the church that Gretchen used to pastor in Tucson is a gathering site for day-laborers. Every morning, men - locals, Mexicans, and from parts even further South - gather in hopes of finding work. They are desperate for a good day’s work and willing to negotiate a good price.

When one approaches the group, there is a jostling and a collective rush forward.. “Over here, sir!” “Good rate.” It makes me think of the inevitable swarm of interest whenever I wanted to hire a cab in India. There was often bickering, and it always made me uncomfortable. I’m told it’s not much different trying to get a cab from the train station in Beacon.

It’s always the same when people - desperate for money - struggle for a chance to feed their families.

I can imagine the commotion as the man from our parable selected his workers for the vineyard. When the dust settled, there would have been men selected for a good day’s work - and a good day’s pay. They were the lucky ones.

And, there would be those left in the dust. With nothing. They would have been forced to stay there in the marketplace, idle. Waiting for something - anything - to come along that would enable them to feed their families.

Later that morning, the landowner comes back. The grapes were ripe and it must have been a good growing season. Because, he needed more workers. Yet again, the workers would have shouted out, in hopes of being hired. “I’m a good worker, sir.” “Pick me.” Some would have been chosen. The others left behind to worry and wonder and wait.

The harvest must have been a bounty beyond his expectations because, even at noon, after a half a day’s work, he needed more workers. Again, the desperate jostling in hopes of getting chosen for work. Again, some were chosen and some were left in the dust. Nothing to do but hang out in the marketplace.

Finally, the landowner returns one, last time in the late afternoon. It was worth it for him to come back one, last time for more workers to make sure the entire bounty was harvested.

We know what happens at payday. I doubt that any of us would have responded any differently than those workers who would have been working in the heat all day.

But, let’s remember. Every single person lined up to receive their pay from the landowner started the day with nothing. Not only that, they had no contract, no guarantee that there would be work for them. They simply showed up in the marketplace hoping to find work.

And, they found it. They had worked, and they had been paid. Their families would be fed that night... whether they worked a full day or not. What mattered is that they had been given an opportunity to work, and they had been given a fair wage for their work... every single one of them.

What is it about we humans that makes us as uncomfortable with this parable as it’s first hearers? How is it that we expect some sort of proportional justice in our holy scriptures? Maybe it’s because we are so used to the lack of fairness in life, that we’d like to think that, at least in our holy books, there might be some justice.

Think about your average office building down in the City. During the regular work day, people come to work and leave at generally the same time. They all - more or less - do a full day of work. And, yet, we are so accustomed the the vast difference in wages between a receptionist on the first floor and the CEO on the top floor. Really, not fair at all. That’s just the way the world works.

But, the good news is that, in the kindgom of heaven, it doesn’t work this way. The scandal of the kingdom of heaven is that all are given a chance to work and rewarded justly... with just enough.

Remember those Hebrews wandering in the wilderness from our first scripture reading for today. They had been freed from the Egyptians by the wondrous power of God, who had heard their cries in slavery. And, yet, at least in slavery, they could be assured enough to eat. How different now, to be truly free... without the slave-owners to rely on for their daily bread.

God hears their complaints. But, instead of punishing their lack of gratitude, God sends them exactly what they need. Quail are sent in the evening, and manna - that soft, flaky bread of God - is found on the ground after the morning dew evaporates.

They were instructed to take as much as they needed for one day and no more. In fact, if they took more and tried to store it, it would become putrid and rot.

The only exception to this phenomenon was the Sabbath. The day before the Sabbath, they were instructed to harvest an extra day’s worth so that they would have exactly what they needed on the Sabbath day. It would not rot, but last them through the day of rest. Even on the day of rest, God provides what is needed. Only take what you need... enough for one day. There will be more tomorrow.

We have a world where we are all enticed to be rich and we honestly struggle to know the difference between wants and needs. The income of the super-rich continues to grow, while increasing numbers of folks sit idly in the marketplace. More and more people struggle to make ends meet, and this church has not been spared the struggle of these times... individually and corporately.

And so Jesus’ parable is good news for us. We are reminded of a God who is generous... not necessarily in showering us with wealth and comforts. Not necessarily even giving us a little to store for a rainy day.

We are simply given a chance - all of us - to get exactly what we need for the day. And we are given the strength and opportunity to wake up the next morning and embrace the exercize in trust again tomorrow.

In Give us this day our daily bread, we pray together... along with the saints throughout the ages who have prayed this prayer.

In an unfair world... in a world of obscene wealth and obscene poverty, may we dare to believe the scandal of our generous God. And, may we trust God to give us just what we need today... and tomorrow... whether we struggle to feed our families or we struggle to make the difficult journey home. May it be so.

Living Forgiveness in an Unforgiving World



Matthew 18:21-35


"Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?"

Did you ever wonder why - in this particular passage - Peter mentions a member of the “church” in a conversation with Jesus? Think about it. Jesus never formed a church. While he walked the earth, there was simply a loosely organized group of disciples that travelled with him and spread his message.

For this, and many other reasons, most biblical scholars believe that the gospel of Matthew, and all gospels for that matter, were written a considerable time after the physical presence of Jesus. The theory goes that the disciples told the stories of Jesus to the communities of believers they formed... the communities that would eventually become churches. They told these stories over and over again until they were finally written down in what we now know as the gospels.

Because the Gospel of Matthew is oriented toward the Hebrew bible and culture, most scholars believe that the community from which it was written was mostly Jewish... Jews who believed that Jesus was the Messiah. And, most scholars believe that the collection of stories found in the gospel of Matthew was written down sometime after 70 A.D.

For those of you who don’t know this date, it marked a turning point for the Jewish faith. It was the year when the Romans laid siege to Jerusalem, quashing a rebellion that had been going on for four years. They did so brutally and decisively. Joesphus, the historian, claimed that 1,100,000 people were killed during the siege – can you imagine? – and that 97,000 were captured and enslaved.

He writes:

“Men and women, old and young, insurgents and priests, those who fought and those who entreated mercy, were hewn down in indiscriminate carnage... The legionaries had to clamber over heaps of dead to carry on the work of extermination.



Now as soon as the army had no more people to slay or to plunder, because there remained none to be the objects of their fury, Caesar gave orders that they should now demolish the entire city and Temple... there was left nothing to make those... believe it had ever been inhabited...”


These very same Jews - who gathered to share stories of the Messiah – would have been reeling from the Roman slaughter and the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem. Even if they hadn’t been there to witness the horror, the ripples of this awful event had spread throughout the Jewish world. Their beloved Temple - the center of all things sacred and holy, the house of God! – had gone up in flames. It is hard to imagine the hurt, the fear, and the anger that these early believers had in their hearts from that awful, awful day.

Of all the stories they told of their Messiah, they chose the story of Peter asking Jesus about forgiveness to write down as gospel... as good news.

“How about seven times, Jesus, is that enough to forgive someone who sins against me?” Anyone who originally heard this exchange between Peter and Jesus - and certainly the Jews who told and re-told this story - would have known that Peter was being very generous. From the Torah, the maximum forgiveness was three times. Three strikes and you are out. Peter suggested seven. That’s more than double than expected.

But Jesus responded that the expectation for forgiveness was so much more. "Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times.” It was almost beyond comprehension.

And then, as Jesus does again and again, he brings the point home with a parable: the kingdom of heaven is like a king who is settling accounts with his servants.
One of his servants - it must have been someone way up in the royal court, maybe he was even close to the king - a servant with influence and power over important things... expensive things… because this servant owed the king an almost unimaginable debt. In monetary terms, a talent was roughly equal to about 15 years worth of wages for the typical worker. The servant owed the king 10,000 talents, or about 150,000 years worth of income.

Because the servant couldn’t pay, the king was forced to order the servant to be sold - him and his entire family. A harsh measure, to be sure, but the king had to recoup some of his financial loss somehow. But, after the seeing the servant begged for mercy – a man who had possibly been quite close to the king – the heart of the king was moved, he released him forgiving the entire debt owed him.

No doubt, word would have gotten out about such an outrageously generous gesture. There would be scuttlebutt, among the other servants to be sure. The people might question the king’s management capabilities... maybe even his backbone. But, the king had been moved by the pleas of the servant. He had taken pity in his heart.

But, immediately after the servant had been forgiven of his debt, he found another servant who owed him a hundred denarii. One denarius was roughly a day’s wage for a typical worker, so the servant is owed the equivalent of 100 days of work. This is no small change, but neither is it an earth-shattering amount... maybe $15,000 in today’s value, more or less.

Yet, this servant - who had just been freed of an unimaginable debt - grabs the other by the throat demanding payment. Nothing changes in his heart. All he sees is what he is owed. He throws the other servant in prison until he could pay the debt.

We can imagine the scuttlebutt in the kingdom now. It’s important to keep in mind that the behavior of the servant is always a direct reflection on the king. This guy is getting all legalistic with one who owes him money?!? And over such a small amount, compared to the enormous amount he owed the king!

The upset servants tell the king, and we can imagine his shame. I felt for this guy! I stuck my neck out for him! I took a hit for him! Now, look what he does! The heart of the king - once moved to pity - is now all anger.

“You wicked slave!” the king says in the confrontation, “I forgave you all that debt because you pleaded with me. Shouldn't you be compelled to be merciful to your fellow servant who asked for mercy?” And the king does what he needs to do to restore his honor - for his servants and for himself. He hands the servant over to be tortured until he can pay his entire debt.

As challenging as this parable is, it makes quite clear what forgiveness is NOT about. For the servant - the one forgiven - it’s not a “get out of jail free card.” It’s not a free pass to go on abusing. And, for the king - the forgiver - it’s not about being a door mat and letting someone walk all over you.

At the end, we are left with a haunting, hyperbolic word of caution from Jesus: “The same thing will happen to you if you do not forgive your brother or sister from your heart."

From the heart. The ending note for our scripture, and the beginning of forgiveness.

In our parable - and in our lives - forgiveness starts with the heart. Actually, the heart of the king. Alexander Pope famously quoted, “To err is human, to forgive, divine.” God - whose heart is moved by our struggles our suffering and our pleas - forgives our sins. God has forgiven our debt - an amount beyond our comprehension - and set us free.
We no longer need worry anxiously about how to pay what we owe or to fear the coming punishment because there is no way we could ever pay it. The debt has been forgiven... we have been forgiven... completely! This is good news!

And, our hearts get to be in on it. We’re expected to be in on it. In fact, to refuse to forgive - especially in those instances that are so minuscule compared with our own sins - reflects so poorly on our Master. And, don’t think that there’s not scuttlebutt when we refuse to forgive. People notice. Especially people looking from the outside. There has been a lot of talk lately about how we can get more people to come to our church. How can we proclaim a God of forgiveness with any ounce of credibility when we are unable to show forgiveness in our own lives?!?

Ah, if only it were so easy. Remember, we’re talking about the heart here.

On this tenth anniversary of the September 11th attacks, it’s hard for our hearts not to be moved... for the innocent victims, for the heroic first responders who selflessly gave their lives, for the families who grieve to this day. It’s also hard for our hearts not to be hardened... out of fear, out of anger... especially at the thought of such a horrific act being motivated by a religious conviction.

I must confess that I was more than a bit skeptical at all the talk of things never being the same after September 11th. And, yet, when one scans back over the past ten years, I can’t help but wonder... the war in Afghanistan, the war in Iraq, the Tsunami in the pacific, the devastation of hurricane Katrina, the burst of the housing bubble, the subsequent global economic recession... it’s been a rough ten years.

Yet, I thank God for those faithful Jews from Matthews community - those who dared to believe in a Messiah and passed down the stories. I thank God they chose to remember the story where their Master compelled them to forgive. Even after they lost it all, they understood the power of forgiveness. They knew fear and anger and violence, and yet they believed that forgiveness was the Way to the kingdom of heaven.

Remember, my sisters and brothers, that the arc of history is long. Even as we remember the events of September 11, when four hijacked airplanes wreaked such destruction and woe, let us also remember the events of 2000 years ago. Let us remember, as David Lose, reminds us:

… when God's own Son, surveying a field of broken lives and desolate hearts, chose to call down from heaven forgiveness, not vengeance, and in this way opened a future marked not by judgment but by mercy, not by calculations but trust, not by despair but hope, not by fear but courage, not by violence but healing, not by scarcity but abundance, not by hate but love, and not by death but by new life. That's what forgiveness can do. May God give to all of us a palpable sense of the forgiveness in which -- and by which -- we live and grant us the faith and courage to walk into the future such forgiveness creates.

Going Home



Exodus 12:1-14



Matthew 18:15-20


Last night was the big bonfire at the amusement park were Robby has been working for the summer. It was the biggest bonfire Robby had ever seen. There were a few pallets of wood and a couple of tree trunks. But, mostly, the fuel for the fire was all the wild grapevines that Robby had spent hacking down from the trees and wrestling to the ground during the mornings before the park opened for the day. The vines had all week to dry out from the deluge of rain last weekend, so they burned quickly and fiercely, the flames lapping up toward the half-moon hanging low in the sky.

Monday is the last day the amusement park is open for the summer. Robby thinks it is quite fitting that his last day at the lever of the Tilt-a-whirl will be Labor Day. He was surprised at how much work the job was. Not the actual ticket-taking and lap-belt buckling and lever cranking. No, the hard part - the real work of the job - was simply getting through the long, mundane day. Too much time to think about his dad.

Or maybe it was just enough. Because, the truth is, he’d been running away from his dad’s death for nine years now... doing anything possible not to face the truth that he’s gone.
It’s amazing what happens when we’re forced to face what we’ve been avoiding. It’s labor, to be sure... to be confronted with the ways we’ve lied to ourselves... to be confronted by the ways we’ve lied to others. Hard stuff.

But, maybe it’s all a part of coming home.

And, that’s what we want, isn’t it? To know that Robby is going home. Back to his mother, Cheryl, whose heart has been breaking for him all summer long since he left her without so much as a word. We can imagine the prodigal moment, her hurt and anger melting away into sobs of joy as she throws her arms around him.




Come to think of it, we want her cousin, Roy, to find some peace in retirement, too. It would be nice if clarity would descend upon him like a light from heaven, that his bible reading would give some sense of purpose in his retirement. While we’re at it, it would be nice if the deer would leave the tomatoes in his garden alone.

And, we can’t forget Jinny, Robby’s friend from college? How great would it be if she were to dedicate her life to being a midwife. Her father would not approve at first, but he would come around. We can imagine all those little babies she would bring into the world... to her it would be awesome every time.

Who knows, maybe she and Robby could have a future together?

Speaking of being a midwife, we can’t forget the couple who gave birth to a child in a shack a couple of weeks ago. It would be nice to know that things work out for them. That, somehow they find a way to put food on the table, that they wouldn’t get deported, that their child would have the privilege of growing up and going to school as a citizen of our great country.

And last, but certainly not least, we want the baby bird - the one we found trembling on the ground after having fallen out of the nest - we want it to live.

We want it to fly.

Every year, our Jewish sisters and brothers - our ancestors in the faith - tell the story of the beginning of the flight to freedom for their people. In a feast, specific it’s details, they re-enact God’s great liberation. The mighty Empire - that had enslaved the Hebrews and decimated their young - would get a taste of their own medicine as the Angel of Death passed throughout the land.




But, the Hebrews would be spared - freed by the blood of the lamb. This intervention of Divine justice would be the beginning of their journey home.

It would take years: of wandering and soul-searching, of conforming to God’s expectations and falling way short. But, one day, they would have a land of their own. With the Passover feast, they were on their way.

And, those of us who call ourselves Christian, we have our own feast of liberation. Next week, we will gather around this table and remember the man who gathered his friends around for the Passover meal. We remember how he told them that he was giving everything he had - even his own blood - for their freedom... and for ours.

Every week, we gather in this space and we tell stories about this man who gives us freedom, who calls us home. We tell stories of how he healed the bent over and gave sight to the blind. We tell stories of how he confronted the rule-keepers and how he loved those people who were unlovable. We tell stories of how his love brought him to the cross and how the empty tomb changed the world.

We dare to believe his promise that he is with us - wherever two or three are gathered - when we are united in honesty and in love.

We tell these stories over and over again... sadly, sometimes our eyes glaze over in the telling. But, we tell these stories not because it is an obligation or a duty. We tell these stories in the trust that - if we pay attention, if we are open - the Spirit will work in us. We tell these stories because they can change our lives.

They do not always go the way we want them to go. They do not always make sense. Such is life. Indeed, life rarely goes the way we want it to go, and it rarely makes sense. We can’t predict how it will end. All we can do is follow the story... to move forward, one page at a time.

And, we share our stories with others. Sometimes that’s what makes the read even better. And, sometimes, that’s the only way we can have the strength to turn the page. Wherever two or three are gathered, Jesus promised...

Last night, before the big bonfire, the boss sponsored a pig-roast for the entire amusement park staff. Robby and his friend Dan ate their fill. The whole staff did. There was nothing left. They stayed up late talking... about the rain from last weekend, about the time the Ferris wheel got stuck, and about that group - they thought it was a family reunion - that channelled their aggression through the bumper cars and managed to break every single car.

Tomorrow is his last day at the amusement park. Robby isn’t the kind of guy that plans ahead, but he’s been thinking about what’s next. Maybe he’ll track down Jinny. Maybe he’ll visit his Mom. Every hour or so, Robby reaches into his pocked several times a day to rub his fingers over the smooth pearl ring he won... finally.

I can’t tell you what’s next for Robby.

But, I can tell you this. He’s going home. Maybe in a couple of days, maybe in a couple of months, maybe in a couple of years. I don’t know when, but he’ll get there.
We all will. We’re all on our way home.

Amen.

Exodus 1:8 - 22

Matthew 16:13-20

Jinny has begun the countdown. One week to go. Then, she will be done with college for good. And, like many kids preparing to set forth in this cruel world, she’s kind of a wreck. On the one hand, she’s had it with classes. She’s ready to be done. On the other hand, how will she ever find a job... especially in this recession? Is she ready to grow up?

The administration let her walk with her classmates at commencement in May, but she has one, last credit to fulfill this summer before she officially graduates. To be honest, she could think of worse ways to spend the summer before heading out into the real world. The Bible as Literature class hasn’t been bad at all. Interesting reading material. And, her professor has been surprisingly passionate during lectures.

Last week, Dr. Edmonds was lecturing on the moment that Peter recognized Jesus as the Messiah, the Son of the living God. He had shared with the class how important this text is to the Roman Catholic church, which claims a direct apostolic succession back to Peter, the rock on whom Jesus said the church would be built.

He also explained that the Gates of Hades was an actual, physical place in the city of Caesarea Philippi. He reminded them that Jesus’ disciples were good, Jewish boys who would never imagine going to a place like that... a Sin City if there ever was one. Caesarea Philippi was the center of worship for the goat god, Pan, the one with the flute and the drunken romps with women out in the woods. People came there from all over the Roman Empire to the temple built for Pan to join in worship festivals which included all kinds of debauchery… including goats. There was a cliff with a giant crack, called the Gates of Hades, because they believed that was the birthplace of Pan. All the spirits from the underworld would emerge to earth from there. These festivals with the goats where to appease the spirits of Hades that emerged from the crack in the cliff.

Goats? The whole class was in shocked silence.

He followed up with the question, “Why do you think that Jesus brought his disciples, these good Jewish boys, to a place of such profanity to declare that, on this Rock, he would build his church?”

More silence.

Edmonds wanted to tell them that it was those kind of people - the ones with the goats - even they would be would be a part of the church of Jesus... not just the good, pure ones. He wanted to tell them that Jesus wanted the disciples to bring his message, not just to their own, but to those people who were so lost. They would be a part of the Christ’s church, too. And, Jesus wanted them not to fear encountering such people, because, with the Son of the Living God on their side, even the Gates of Hades - would not prevail against them. In fact, in Jesus, they would have more power than they could ever imagine.

He wanted to say all that, and more... But, he caught himself. His year-end evaluations had gotten more and more critical of him being too “preachy.” It was a state school, and he wanted to keep his job.

Instead, he wrote the assignment on the board and walked out the door, “Given the content of the course thus far, how do you understand Jesus when he said: ‘I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.’ One thousand words.”

As the students began filing out of class, Jinny saw Sarah. “Can you believe he just walked out?” Jinny said, “He wasn’t even half-way through!”

“It’s a good thing,” said Sarah. “I gotta run. Actually, what are you doing right now?”

Jinny had been immediately intrigued by Sarah the first day of class back in July. In a classroom full of teenagers and twenty-somethings who still acted like teenagers, Sarah was almost as old as Jinny’s mom. And she took the class more seriously than anyone else in the class, by far. Though, once or twice, it seemed like she could barely stay awake during class.

Jinny had never met a midwife before. The two were assigned to be study partners, but they really spent most of the time talking about Sarah’s job - the late-night trips to homes all over the county, the different things women did to relax before the labor really kicked it up a notch, the time the baby was born down in the laundry room... the baby came too fast for momma to get back upstairs.

The more Jinny heard about it, the more intriguing it sounded. It would mean more school, and that felt like the last thing Jinny wanted. Plus, her Dad would never go for it. But, still, she wondered...

“Baby’s on the way, and my partner’s on vacation,” Sarah said, as they left the classroom together. “I could use an extra pair of hands. You wanna come along?”

The rest was a blur for Jinny as they hopped in Sarah’s little Ford Focus and drove down the back road through several small towns. They came to a row of shacks and managed to find the right house. It was the only one with lights on. Everyone else was at work in the chicken processing plant down the road.

When they went in, it was dark and strangely silent, with a girl sitting on a bed in the corner. A man knelt next to her, holding her hand. Several older women were around the edges of the room. Sarah spoke with the girl in short, soothing phrases in some foreign language. Jinny was pretty sure it was Spanish.

Jinny was certain that this girl, about to give birth in this shack, was younger than her. But, Jinny had no idea how far she had traveled or how many times she had risked her life to have the privilege of living in this country. And, Jinny didn’t know that the young man - who looked lovingly into the girl’s eyes - hadn’t worked a day since he hurt his arm in the plant back in May. And, she certainly could have no idea how the two of them had lied awake, night after night, trying to figure out a way to provide for the baby that was God’s gift to them.

Though everything seemed to happen so fast, Jinny remembered the way the girl would close her eyes and moan when the early contractions came. She remembered the fear in the man’s eyes when the contractions increased. She remembered how the vein bulged in the girl’s forehead as she pushed. She remembered being amazed at how strong that girl was.

But, most of all, she remembered how Sarah watched, and waited. So calm. She remembered how she spoke - those strange words - to sooth the girl. She remembered watching the muscles in Sarah’s hands as she held the girl when she pushed.

And then, there it was... that messy, perfect baby... Sarah guiding it into the world and onto the mother’s chest.

She watched the family huddle around the little one. The baby broke the silence with a loud cry and wide smiles stretched out on faces of the old women. Mommy counted the toes. Daddy stroked the thick, black hair. Sarah smiled.

And, tears streamed down Jinny’s cheeks.

The essay is due tomorrow. Jinny knows she’s supposed to write something about the keys to the kingdom of heaven… how it’s not like other kingdoms. Edmonds always says, “Remember, there’s no Pharaoh, no Caesar, not even a president in the Kingdom of Heaven.”

But, all she can think about is the family in that shack, and how Sarah guided that baby into this world. Now, that’s power.

Amen.

Isaiah 56:, 6-8

Matthew 15:21-28

Previously on our summer story sermon series:

Cheryl was up all night after the 4th of July fireworks waiting for her son, Robby, to come home. Given Robby’s past, she isn’t surprised that he hasn’t come back yet. But that hasn’t made it hurt any less, and it hasn’t made her miss her husband Tim any less, who died of cancer 9 years ago.

Cheryl’s cousin, Roy, has been preoccupied with his two, new retirement hobbies, gardening and daily bible reading, with both proving to be more challenging than he ever imagined. He won’t admit it, but he loses almost as much sleep worrying about his cousin, Cheryl as he does worrying about the deer who seem to thwart his gardening efforts daily.

After a couple weeks of wandering and totally by chance, Robby reconnected with his only friend from college, Jinny. They spent an evening at the lake together that was so amazing he thought he could spend the rest of his life with her. At the very least, he would have been glad to spend the summer listening to her talk about her latest adventure, even though it happened to be her Bible as Literature class.

As far as Jinny’s father was concerned, it was more than providential that his buddy’s amusement park was in need of someone to operate the Tilt-a-whirl. Robby was out of the house the next day, safely away from Jinny and actually earning money at the amusement park. Every morning since then, before the park opens, he has been out cutting down wild grapevines in return for his meager accommodations. During his breaks, you can find him either at the snack shack eating his daily dose of a delightful fried dough concoction called an elephant ear, or in the arcade bent over the toy grabber. He swears that there’s a real pearl ring in there!

This past week, Roy has been more agitated than usual. Robby finally called home. Well, sort of. He actually called Roy. It made sense - if you knew Robby. On more than one occasion Robby had ended up staying with Roy when he was a teenager... when he was just too much for Cheryl to handle. But, the fact that it made sense for Robby to call Roy didn’t make him any less upset.

He slammed the phone down. He hated being angry. How was he going to break it to Cheryl that Robby had called him before her? The boy was ok. That’s what was important. He could do worse than a steady summer job at an amusement park. But why did he keep breaking his mother’s heart?!? Roy fumed.

It didn’t help that Roy’s bible reading had thrown him for a loop once more. He had been stuck yet again in the book of Matthew. He’d worked through much of the parables with an occasional call to Pastor Lisa to clear things up. But this last passage had him all worked up. Roy hated being all worked up almost as much as he hated being angry. Wasn’t retirement supposed to be easy?!?

But he just couldn’t wrap his head around the story of the woman from Canaan. Roy knew that the Canaanites were the ancient enemies of Israel. But, Jesus was beyond all those old divisions, those old conflicts... or so Roy thought.

But, when this woman came to Jesus begging for help - for mercy for her daughter - Jesus flat out ignored her. That didn’t seem like the Christ-like thing to do from Roy’s humble perspective.

When his disciples asked Jesus to send her away because she was pestering them, Jesus said that he was only sent to the people of Israel. That also confused Roy. Wasn’t Jesus supposed to be the savior of the world?

But, then it got worse after the woman knelt before him, begging for help. Roy had to read Jesus’ response over and over again for it to sink in: “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs?!? A woman comes to Jesus for help and this is how the Son of God, the Lord of the Universe, responds?!?

But she doesn’t give up. “Even the dogs get some crumbs from the table,” she says.

After that, it all changes. For some reason, Jesus says she has great faith. And, her daughter is healed instantly.

Roy didn’t get it. He just didn’t get it.

During a late-night phone call, Pastor Lisa told Roy that the story is really all about Jesus’ disciples. Jesus was really trying to reveal to them that their own prejudice was not the will of God. They wanted to send her away, and they wouldn’t have batted an eye at what Jesus had said to her because they really did believe that she and her people were dogs. But, Jesus knew otherwise, and he knew that her persistence would show to them that she was a person of faith, just as deserving of healing as anyone in Israel.

At first, that settled things down a bit for Roy. Pastor Lisa had been to seminary. She had studied these things. But, for some reason, Roy couldn’t stop re-reading it. And, the more he read it, the more he was haunted by a thought. And he didn’t like it one bit.

Despite what Pastor Lisa said, it seemed to Roy that something else was going on. He really didn’t like the idea, but the more he read it, the more it seemed like Jesus actually changed his mind. Maybe Jesus really wasn’t going to be bothered by her. Jesus knew his call and it wasn’t to serve “those people.” But, maybe the persistence of the woman moved Jesus to have compassion on those dogs? Roy was more and more haunted by the question, “Was Jesus changed by the faith of pestering of the woman?”

To be honest, Roy wanted to believe that people could change. He really wanted to believe that Robby could change. But, he would prefer his Lord to be of more of a firm foundation, thank you very much. To say Roy was shaken was an understatement.

Which is why, when he called Cheryl, she knew something was up.

“You up for a walk?” Roy said.

“What’s wrong?” she responded.

“How ‘bout this afternoon?” he tried to evade the question.

“Have you heard from Robby?” she asked, desperately.

“I’ll be by around three,” he blurted out before hanging up the phone.

That afternoon, his plan to ease her into things failed miserably. He’d told her everything he knew before they had even made it to the front sidewalk.

Cheryl processed the news in silence as they headed down the street. Robby was safe... he had a summer job at an amusement park... he’d call her one of these days...

She let out a sigh.

They continued - without saying a word to each other - to a path on the edge of town. It started next to an abandoned lot, wound down past a farmer’s field, and ended in an old pine forest. It was a path they discovered as kids, but they hadn’t been there in years. Since Tim died.

The buzz of the cicadas filled the afternoon as they passed the full, sagging sunflowers in the lot and the rows of tall corn in the field. Finally, they got out of the afternoon heat and into the cool, dark pine forest.

It was totally silent, as they moved through the dappling sun like breaths of gold stretched taught through the pine needles.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, there was a loud chirp - almost like a shriek - and a rush of wind over their heads. It happened again, a sharp chirp and a fluttering out of the darkness, this time it brushed through Roy’s hair as it zoomed past.

“We’re being dive bombed,” Roy yelled as they ducked and covered their heads with their arms, stumbling back a few steps as the bird kept blustering past them, letting out the loudest chirps it could muster.

Their terror turned to laughter when they realized that it was just a little bird - looked like a robin. But, even as they laughed, it kept frantically flying right at them, swerving at the last moment, and then circling back to the same branch.

They played this game of ducking and laughing for a while as the bird continued to circle their heads. Cheryl was trying to remember the last time she had laughed so hard.

Then, she saw it.

“Look!” she shouted.

On the ground was a small ball of dark feathers, quivering in the dappled light.

“It’s a baby. It must have fallen out of the nest,” she whispered as they crouched down toward the little chick. It was a miracle they didn’t step on it with all their stumbling around.

The bird swooped by, brushing Cheryl’s head.

“Geesh, Momma Bird! Isn’t it late in the summer for birds to be having babies?” Cheryl wondered.

“Who can explain these things?” pondered Roy, ducking down to join her.

“It still looks strong enough,” said Cheryl, “but it needs to get back in the nest. You need to go home, Little Bird.”

The bird flew by again, this time pecking Roy in the head.

“Ow,” he shouted. “I don’t think we’re supposed to pick up baby birds. Won’t the mother reject them if they get our scent on them?”

“Look at it, Roy, it’s not going to survive down here on its own.”

They watched it quiver in the light... big eyes looking up from a wobbly head.

Cheryl followed the eyes up to the bird in the tree and the nest right next to it. She squawked again, but held her ground up there on the branch.

“What choice do we have?” Cheryl looked at Roy.

He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket at cupped that chick as gentle as he could. It felt like air in his hands.

“Lord God, who gathers the outcasts...” Roy prayed, reaching up to place the tiny life back into the nest.