Acts 10:34-43; Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24; 1 Corinthians 15:19-26; Luke 24:1-12

It’s probably fitting that the first reaction of the eleven disciples to the news of the Resurrection was that they dismissed it as an ‘idle tale.’

It’s a story that just doesn’t make sense.

If the question on the minds of both the first witnesses of Jesus and modern day people is, “is this for real?” …

… then the answer provided by the execution of Jesus on the Cross seems to be, “no.” This is not for real.

By all earthly accounts, Jesus and his message were defeated by the Cross. It all came to an end there and was buried in a tomb. In 1 Cor, the apostle Paul writes, “If for this life only we have hoped in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied.” (1Corinthians 15.19 NRSV)

On a Sunday morning 2000 or so years ago, on the third day of the Crucifixion, there was a group of disciples who felt pretty pitiful.

I’m sure you can imagine the trauma they were enduring after what happened to their leader. The emotions they were dealing with. The hopes they had that were crushed by the violence and hatred of not just the “powers that be”, but also their own fellow believers, and even by one of their own: one of the Twelve disciples.

Many of us know something about dashed hopes; crushed dreams; great ideas that turn into idle tales. You don’t have to go very far in life to be lied to. To be disappointed. To put your trust in something that turns out not to be trustworthy.

Even for faithful followers of Jesus today, there is a certain amount of doubt and skepticism that we live with, just like the first disciples lived with — it’s the nature of the world we live in. A world where death and deceit are always just around the corner.

A world where great things always appear too good to be true. Where stories of real love and goodness in the face of death sound like idle tales. Where real world things like debt and terrorism and genocide have the same force as a crucifixion — not just the death of a person, but the death of hope. The death of a dream.

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And into the midst of our pity and disappointment come a group of women who say that they’ve been to the tomb, been to the place of death; and death was not there.

Of course their story sounds like nonsense, like an idle tale. It’s too good to be true. It’s not realistic. It’s not the world we’ve come to know. We have been conditioned to dismiss it, just as the disciples dismissed it…

…except, when Peter — Peter, who had been through more ups and downs with Jesus that he would care to admit — when Peter heard the news: he ran. Towards the tomb. Towards the place of death. It may have sounded like an idle tale, but it was just the kind of thing that Jesus had promised. It was just the kind of too-good-to-be-true hope that Jesus had nurtured in him.

When Peter discovered with his own eyes that the tomb was empty, that the story was true, he must have remembered what the women had just recounted to him: the voices of strangers who said, “why do you look for the living among the dead? Jesus is not here, but has risen. Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day rise again.”

Peter knew then, that against all odds, despite the violence of Good Friday, despite the betrayal of the religious leaders and Judas, despite his own denials and failures as a disciple, that the unrealistic promises of God were real.

Peter was given a faith that has brought life to disciples ever since.

• to followers of Jesus who have had little political power, little wealth, little real world security but were sustained by a hope that wasn’t just an idle tale.
• to generations of believers who have buried their loved ones knowing that death does not mean an end to their love.
• to people like you and me who struggle to live a Gospel-centered life in the midst of the real world.

This morning we hear and sing and tell a story that is perhaps the only one that isn’t too good to be true:

That the love of Jesus that could not be contained by the tomb invites each and every one of us into the hope that all will be made alive in Christ.

That the hope in life given by God is not an idle tale, but a way of living that doesn’t give in to a fear of dying. A way of living that pursues dreams that appear hopeless. Love that appears unrealistic.

A way of living that allows us to share goodness with our neighbors without fear of running out. That gives us faith to give without concern for getting.

The Resurrection may sound like an idle tale, but the life it calls us into is anything but. It is God’s dream come true for each of us…for all the world.

Believing in this idle tale gives us a faith bold enough to live and love in a world that still has debt, doubt, and anger. It gives us a radical courage to stand against violence and hatred in the way that Jesus did.

And even when the evil in the world crucifies our lives and our dreams, God raises them up — raises us up — to live without pity but hope.

Exodus 12:1-4, 5-10, 11-14; Psalm 116:1-2, 12-19; 1 Corinthians 11:23-26; John 13:1-17, 31-35

“No,” says Peter.

When Jesus comes to Peter to wash his feet, Peter adamantly refuses.

At this point, you’d expect that Peter would have been convinced that Jesus had his reasons. By the time we come to today’s event — the Last Supper — Jesus has raised Lazarus from the dead, has ridden into Jerusalem on a donkey, fulfilling prophecy, and has told his disciples that now the time had come for the Son of Man to enter into glory.

And now, gathered with his disciples, Jesus begins a ritual: he gets up from the table, takes a towel and a basin of water and begins to wash the disciples’ feet.

Jesus has already washed some of the disciples’ feet when he comes to Peter. And yet, Peter refuses.

Our translation doesn’t fully capture it. NLT is better:

“No,” Peter protested, “you will never ever wash my feet!” (John 13.8 NLT-SE)

What’s up with Peter? We can guess…

• Maybe it’s the feet, and the honor of it
• Maybe it’s the role reversal…
• Maybe Peter resists because he does know what happens next

Whatever his reason, Peter’s refusal means he is not fully participating in what Jesus is doing. Even if his intentions are mostly noble, by opting out of the footwashing, Jesus tells him he’s opting out of fellowship with Christ.

“Unless I wash you, you have no share with me.” (John 13.8 NRSV)

“If you want to be my disciple,” Jesus seems to say, “this kind of thing is what you’re signing up for.”

So, what kind of thing is it?

Jesus says it all comes down to love. Genuine love. Love that sometimes has you washing your neighbor’s feet, and sometimes finds you allowing your neighbor to wash yours. The picture of love and fellowship that Jesus puts forth suggests that no one is above simple service to others, and no one is above being served.

Jesus knows his disciples are not perfect. He knows they aren’t experts. He knows they’ll make mistakes. In fact, Jesus knows he’s sitting down to supper with a disciple that will hand him over to be killed.

The practice that Jesus gives his disciples is not to overcome all problems with a 4 point plan for success. He doesn’t give them a perfect strategy to defeat the enemy. He doesn’t even have them detain or distract Judas who’s about to make a really big mistake.

Instead, Jesus gives them a model of servanthood that forces them to draw close to one another. To forgive one another. To outdo one another in service on the ground rather than over and above.

It’s a different model than most of the world uses. You can understand why Peter objects.

Not just singling Peter out…he stands in for all of us with reservations, with baggage, doubt, stubbornness…

What holds you back?

What holds you back from your neighbors? From loving and from knowing that you are loved? From serving others, and from being forgiven?

What’s the thing that prevents you from going all in? From participating in Christ with your whole self?

Whatever it is, I want you to tie that thing into your piece of rope.

Bring it with you to Communion.

All are welcome at the Lord’s Table, doubts and all. Even Judas ate with Jesus. Bring your knot and lay it down.

Tonight, this altar will be stripped away. This tradition started simply to get all the linens cleaned before Easter, but it has taken on new meanings. It’s symbolic of what happens to Jesus. It’s an emotional reminder of Christ’s humiliation in giving it all. When the altar is stripped tonight, the knots that we have carried with us symbolizing our hang ups will also be stripped away.

When we return tomorrow, there will just be the Cross. The ultimate symbol of love. God’s love for each and every one of us around the table. Knots and all.

Isaiah 43:16-21; Psalm 126; Philippians 3:4-14; John 12:1-8

Did anyone give anything up for Lent this year?

I didn’t, but maybe will next year…

• wet blanket, guilt-inducing, legalism … or
• holy experiment to redefine our relationship with stuff (like bread)

Paul talks about giving things up in his letter to the Philippians that we heard.

(That’s right, I’m not preaching on John…)

Different kind of giving up. Paul’s giving up everything and here’s why:

If Paul had a Lenten Discipline, his would have been almost perfect.

• circumcised on the eighth day
• tribe of Benjamin; Pharisee
• persecutor of the church

…and maybe most astounding, Paul brags that with regard to the law, he was blameless. (At least the way he interpreted law.) In other words, if anyone ever had lived blamelessly under the law, it was Paul. He must have lived with a single-minded obsession with keeping the law.

In terms of being righteous, Paul had felt in control. But because of his encounter with Christ, Paul discovered this was his biggest blind spot.

We need Grace most in the things that we think we need it the least. The things we do to feel in control are our biggest blind spots.

We need Grace most in the things that we think we need it the least.

If you made a list like Paul’s of all the things that help you feel in control, but which ultimately cannot save you, what would be on it? (Hint: probably the things that you worry about the most.)

• health? (eat only the right things…as to the South Beach Diet: blameless.)
• raising the perfect family?
• being the most independent? Never asking anything of anyone…never owing anything to anyone?
• financial security?
• for me: probably being an effective pastor

Getting what we do confused with the Grace that makes us who we are.

Yet whatever gains I had, these I have come to regard as loss because of Christ.

Everything that Paul had worked so hard for, had come to be loss for him. All the things that we struggle for, come to be loss for us. Not because they aren’t good. But because their goodness fools us into thinking that they can save us.

• it’s good that you eat the right things, but your health cannot save you
• it’s good that you want the best for your kids, but that will not save you (and it won’t save them)
• it’s good to work for financial security for your family, but it can’t last forever
• it’s good to be self-reliant and independent but there will be a time for all of us when we will need help

Ultimate and hardest thing to give up: control.

(Try giving up control for Lent!)

We can! We can give up needing to do everything ourselves. We can give up self-righteousness.

We can count it all as loss because of Christ. Because of Christ’s righteousness.

Not that I have already obtained this or have already reached the goal; but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. (Philippians 3.12 NRSV)

Because we are baptized into Christ, we are made into something new. From the book of Isaiah, we hear:

Thus says the LORD, who makes a way in the sea, a path in the mighty waters, Do not remember the former things, or consider the things of old. I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert. (Isaiah 43.16–19 NRSV)

Like new rivers in the desert of our life, God will take our old control-obsessed self and make something new. God will give rest to you when you’re weary from trying to be blameless under which laws you’re trying to follow.

And God will make a new thing — a better thing — of us as we give more and more control to God. As we trade our blind spots for Grace.

Until we can say with Paul that we count everything as loss because of what we have gained in Christ.

Joshua 5:9-12; Psalm 32; 2 Corinthians 5:16-21; Luke 15:1-3, 11-32

It was only when the younger son ‘came to himself,‘ that he turned toward home; toward the loving arms that he could fall back into.

• well-known Prodigal Son parable…also ‘Forgiving Father’…or maybe the ‘Offended Sibling?’
• all the characters grip us; challenge us…
• phrase, ‘came to himself’

Have you ever ‘come to yourself?’ Come to your senses, come to the realization that you needed to make a turn?

Probably numerous times, right?

How long does it take you to admit when you’re lost? How much time have you spent wandering because you didn’t want to admit to yourself or anyone else that you were lost? (Me: too much.)

• yes, the joke about men stopping to ask for directions…
• but also much more serious …

The younger son in the parable came to himself when he admitted he was dying.

But when he came to himself he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired hands have bread enough and to spare, but here I am dying of hunger!’

It wasn’t easy for him to admit: left to his own devices, on his own, he was dying.

Plan for life: failure. Entire belief system that held he was better off alone: wrong.

If you’ve had some kind of experience of ‘coming to yourself’, you’ll probably recognize it in the parable of the Prodigal Son. And you probably recognize it when others are going through it. Or, when they need to go through it.

I know that I can relate to the person who is struggling, fighting tooth and nail to ‘make it.’ Struggling to prove to God and everyone else, “I can do this.”

The alternative is admitting to failure and dying.

What do you say to a person who is coming to herself, to a person coming to his senses?

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We Lutherans and friends of Lutherans make good evangelists, but not in the way we normally think of that word. We don’t often find ourselves going door to door and asking people to make a decision for Christ. (Which I wouldn’t recommend doing, by the way.)

We make good evangelists because we know what Grace feels like, and that it’s too good not to share.

If you encounter someone who has hit rock bottom, who has come to their senses, I’ll bet you want to exclaim to them, ‘Come home. Come back to God’s Grace. God will meet you with open and loving arms…Come home!’

But here’s a problem…if you identify at all as a church person, and you are trying to invite a Prodigal Son to come home, do you know who they see you as? It’s not as an innocent bystander. Whether you like it or not, you will look to them like the elder son.

You will. As a Christian who isn’t currently going through a crises, you will look like the child who stayed. You will look like the ‘Good Daughter’ or the ‘Good Son.’ The judgmental one. The one who says, “I told you so.”

Predominately, people who have had no church experience or bad church experience see you and me as elder sons, elder daughters, eager to judge, eager to condemn.

There are lots of people who pass to the other side of the street when they see a religious person coming, because they just can’t bear to feel the judgmental eyes of another Christian.

You see, it’s easy to forget that we are all prodigal children.

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Why not use this time leading up to Easter to come to yourself once again? To come to your senses?

No, you may not be at rock bottom, wishing you could eat the pigs’ food. But it’s easy to get lost. Are you:

• single-handedly trying to hold your family together where there is division?
• holding yourself responsible for the actions of others?
• refusing anyone’s help because it means admitting you need it?
• killing yourself trying to live your life?

It’s time that you and I come to ourselves. Let’s come to our senses. We are dying. But for each of us, and every prodigal child around us, there is a home to come to. There is Grace to find us. There is God waiting for us with open arms.

In every moment as we live our lives, we don’t have to do it alone.

In everything that we do, we are found in God.

Isaiah 55:1-9; Psalm 63:1-8; 1 Corinthians 10:1-13; Luke 13:1-9

People are meaning-making creatures. It’s really one of the things that makes humans human: that we look at the world around us, and the things that happen, and we ask ‘why?’ We are especially interested in why terrible things happen. And you can be assured that any time a disaster strikes, there will be people — including religious leaders — who will publicly proclaim the meaning behind the disaster.

Some of the most cringeworthy responses to tragedies have been from Christian leaders who quickly place the blame on a certain population of people or a certain behavior of people. “Those” sinful people.

It has to be someone’s fault, right? And usually, if you think about it, the people being blamed are the least able to do anything about the situation, and the least able to defend themselves against the claims.

And now we know that this is not a new tendency. Jesus himself deals with this kind of thing in the Gospel that we’ve heard today.

A group of people question Jesus about the current events of their day. One such current event apparently involved a group of religious folks who had made the journey from Galilee to Jerusalem for the Passover. While they were there, Pilate had them brutally killed during their worship. In another example from that time, 18 unfortunate souls were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them. When asked to respond, Jesus seems to sense the real question was, “what did those people do wrong to deserve what happened to them?”

I have to tell you that for a religious leader, this question is almost irresistible…it’s intoxicating…it’s the chance to get on the soapbox.

And it plays right into the way we’re programmed to think. You see, most of us live with a mental framework that psychologists call the Just World Hypothesis.

• life is fair
• what goes around, comes around
• if you do something bad, it will come back to you
• worse: if something bad happens to you, you must have done something to deserve it

When we don’t realize that we’re thinking this way, humans can be very prejudiced in the way we respond to tragedies. Our first instinct is to blame the victim.

Out of all those that worshipped in the temple, there must have been something those Galileans did that caused them to be killed. Maybe they weren’t true believers. Maybe they should have been more polite. Maybe they shouldn’t have gone so late in the day. Maybe they shouldn’t have taunted the Roman soldiers. Who knows?

Four years after Trayvon Martin was shot and killed in this state, our nation is still struggling with how to respond to the all-too-common tragedies that take or diminish the lives of black and brown folk in our country. From a distance, it’s easy to remark, ‘they shouldn’t have been out so late.’ ‘They shouldn’t have been standing on the street corner.’ ‘They shouldn’t have been wearing a hoodie.’ We have the same impulse to blame the victims of tragedies. But this is not what Jesus does.

Instead of getting on his soapbox, Jesus responds to a tragedy of his time by saying, “Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did.”

Jesus does not allow us to cast judgment on our brothers and sisters when tragedies befall them. This can be hard for us to hear.

On the one hand, Jesus rescues the dignity of those who are victims of disasters and suffering in this life…but on the other hand, Jesus reminds us that we’re all in the line of fire. We are all standing in the shadows of falling towers. We are all called to repent of our sin.

If Jesus were simply to lump all of us humans together as sinners and stand in judgment of us, well…he’d be right. But Jesus does something different.

Where others react to tragedy by pointing fingers, Jesus responds by stepping into the line of fire. Where others talk about justice from on top of soapboxes, Jesus lives out justice in the shadow of disasters. Where we are tempted to blame the victim, Jesus becomes the victim for us.

The world, as we experience it, is not fair. Bad things happen to good people. Good things happen to bad people. Any meaning we might make of the tragedies we encounter are sure to be deficient. But in the cross of Christ, God has already shown us how to respond to tragedy in an unjust world:

With love.

As we survive the personal tragedies in our own lives, and as we try to respond faithfully to the larger scale tragedies of our world, we can either climb up on our dangerously precarious soapboxes…or, we can find ourselves with Jesus. On the ground; among those who suffer; sharing love from one sinner in need of repentance to another.

Genesis 15:1-12, 17-18; Psalm 27; Philippians 3:17-4:1; Luke 13:31-35

It is so easy to be distracted.

Decide on goals; formulate a plan; make a resolution…and just wait for the distractions to come.

Urgent phone calls, health setbacks, fantasy baseball…there’s always something ready to knock us off track, to take our eyes off the prize. I admit to being constantly distracted from the things that I have decided are most important to my life. If anyone claimed to never be distracted, I’d be suspicious their entire life was one big distraction.

So, amid the constant barrage of things that threaten to take us off-course in our lives, how do we ever accomplish our daily work, and keep moving in the right direction?

In our Gospel, Jesus is moving steadfast in one direction. Although he spends much of his three years of ministry going from village to village, there comes a point where turns his face in one way: towards Jerusalem. Towards the cross. Towards Easter. But along the way, he has work to do. He constantly encounters what you and I might otherwise call distractions. Needy people. Sick people. Angry and stubborn people. And, along the way, Jesus heals them. He sets them free, he debates with them, and he teaches them. It’s part of his mission.

And we know why Jesus has his work cut out for him: the stubbornness and rebellion of the very people he’s trying to save: us!

Jesus says, “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!” How often Jesus has longed to save us and we were not willing. Were we distracted? Unlike the passage we heard last week, the enemy here isn’t the Devil, prowling somewhere out there in the wilderness. The enemy is us.

But in the same passage, Jesus tells us why he continues his mission without distraction. He loves us like a mother hen.

I’m not sure I fully understood what that meant until I saw a mother hen in action. [Share my mother hen story.]

Make no mistake: a mother hen’s love is not just a Hallmark Card expression…it is selfless, dangerous, and sacrificial. It’s the kind of love that would call an otherwise rational creature to throw itself toward harm’s way in order to protect its loved ones. Toward a hawk. Toward Jerusalem and the cross.

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So here we are, in a season of Lent in which many Christians around the world are focusing on walking more closely with Jesus. Maybe you, like me, are hoping to be less distracted as we follow that path.

It means walking alongside both the daily work of Jesus, and moving in the direction of his purpose…it means walking with Jesus in his life, death, and resurrection.

It means walking with Jesus in our life, death, and resurrection.

We are each called to all different kinds of daily work: professional work, the work of caring for others, of being a student, of being part of a community, of volunteering, of being a good citizen.

Can you see that all of that work, no matter what it is, is wrapped up in a purpose?

It’s to fully participate in God’s love, given to us, and shared for others.

We continue our work and move toward our purpose in a distracting world. A world full of stubborn people, rebellious people; and, when they don’t get their way, violent people. A world where even the ones you love will let you down. And even despite frequent setbacks, emergencies, and urgent phone calls, still…we are often our own worst enemy.

But we each do our work in a world that Jesus longed to gather together like a mother hen — even though it rejected him. A world that Jesus saw not as one distraction after another, but precious and valuable. A world that Jesus would (and did) give his own life to in order to save.

As much as I would want it to be, Lent (or any other time) will not be free from distractions. But we can be turned in the right direction, and with Jesus, set our sights on the cross and its purpose: to share God’s mother hen love with all the world.

Deuteronomy 26:1-11; Psalm 91.1-2, 9-16; Romans 10:8-13; Luke 4:1-13

Have you ever tried fasting from food?

I have a friend who actually had to cancel a colonoscopy because he couldn’t make it through one evening and night without eating actual food. He opened the fridge, made a sandwich, and left a message to reschedule his appointment.

So we can only guess at the difficulty of the forty-day fast that Jesus was led out to by the Spirit in the wilderness. While there, our Gospel tells us that Jesus was tempted by the devil. We don’t really talk much about the devil in our religious tradition, but I bet we’ve all experienced temptation in one way or another.

In many ways, it’s true that “seeing is believing,” so, in order to tempt Jesus, the devil tries to get him to see things in a particular way.

Vision is powerful. Most world-class athletes talk about envisioning their victories before they happen. The Second Habit in Steven Covey’s The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People is “begin with the end in mind.” Almost every successful business in recent history has had some version of a Mission or Vision statement…a future vision of the world in which that business makes a greater impact. Vision is powerful.

The devil tempts Jesus three times and for each temptation, he offers Jesus a vision — a mostly plausible vision — of the world as it could be.

When the devil tempts Jesus with bread — a free lunch — he’s really offering a vision of a world in which Jesus chooses comfort over commitment.

When the devil shows off all the kingdoms of the world, he’s offering a vision of a world where Jesus uses his power to rule over others.

And when devil tells him to jump from the temple in Jerusalem into the protecting arms of the angels, he’s offering a vision of a world where Jesus opts out of his purpose to suffer and die alongside his friends and to choose safety instead.

Powerful leaders use vision to motivate people. In this Gospel, the devil is a powerful leader. He offers Jesus not one, but three compelling visions of the world that were not yet true, but were possible, if Jesus chose them.

We’ve seen other leaders do the same. Think of Osama bin Laden. He used a false but compelling vision of the world to persuade so many passionate young people to give up their lives towards his violent purpose. Or think of any historical leader who motivated thousands or millions of people toward some evil purpose. To do it, they used a vision, and usually one that played upon the fears of their people.

And harmful visions of the world are not just cast by infamous figures…

Numerous advertisements each day offer us a vision of the world in which simply buying something will make our lives better. Talking heads on the news offer us a vision in which the rest of the world is dangerous and full of evil. The stereotypes we grew up with offer a vision of the world in which people who are different from us are not deserving of our full respect.

Whoever the devil is that Jesus meets, perhaps it’s the same force that tempts us everyday with these harmful visions.

As it turns out, Jesus is a leader with vision, too. And against the ones the devil provides, Jesus also offers a compelling vision of the world as it might be. Not one that plays upon our fears, but one that uses our God-given gifts to work together for the good of our neighbors.

When Jesus responds to the devil by quoting, “One does not live by bread alone,” he’s giving an alternate vision for life, one in which Jesus and his followers rely on God for every need.

When Jesus rejects the temptation to worship the devil who promised him power and glory, Jesus offers a vision of what it looks like to follow the First Commandment.

When Jesus refuses the easy way out, refuses the angels’ protection in Jerusalem (the future site of his crucifixion,) he is clearly working with a different vision than what the rest of the world would envision for him.

Jesus sees his path leading through pain and despair, standing beside all the children of God whom he loved, whom he would die for.

Each time, for each temptation, the devil offers Jesus one vision of life, and Jesus responds with a different one. They’re in the same god-forsaken desert. It’s the same Jesus in both visions…but Jesus sees things a different way.

If we commit in Lent to walk in the steps of Jesus — if we desire to have what 1 Corinthians calls the “mind of Christ,” it will mean also seeing this alternate vision of the world. It will mean seeing the world with different eyes.

It will mean seeing the same disappointment and evil that everyone else sees but seeing it in a different way.

It will mean living with the same things that drive others to fear and hatred and instead responding with forgiveness and love.

It will mean seeing reality with eyes wide open. Seeing things like, for example, the fact that our congregation here has been declining in numbers for at least the past 15 years. Now, in the devil’s version of the world, that’s a scary and frustrating number. It’s a number we are surely tempted to avoid or ignore. But in Jesus’ vision for our world, it means an opportunity to ask God how we might see our congregation and the community around us with new eyes…and how we might share the Gospel vision of the world with more and more of our neighbors.

Jesus’ vision for each of us is to experience healing and forgiveness so real that we let go of the old way of seeing the world. That we see the world with new eyes, and in fact become new ourselves, so that, freed and forgiven, we might share our lives and our vision with everyone around us.

Exodus 34:29-35; Psalm 99; 2 Corinthians 3:12-4:2; Luke 9:28-36

When is the last time that God’s booming voice told you to do something?

I don’t doubt that it does happen — it happened for Peter, John, and James, after all. God uses all kinds of different ways to communicate to humans.

I can’t speak for others’ experiences, but in my experience, and the experience of most of the people I know, God just doesn’t normally do this.

I have spoken with people who have had these kinds of supernatural experiences, and of course, that’s for them to make meaning of, but for me…if I heard the loud voice of God in my house, I would check for a gas leak.

The truth is that most people will live their entire lives without experiencing God talking to them through dazzling light and clouds. Does it mean God is missing from our lives?

As rational and scientific as I like to pretend that I am — I’d be lying if I said I didn’t yearn for God to shout out every once in a while. For God to pick up that Road Raging driver in front of me, to tell him “No!” like you would train a puppy, and then put his car back down on the road.

I think most Christians probably end up with this complex where we wish we could go back to the good ol’ days when God walked through the Garden of Eden and pointed out various trees and animals. When God actually spoke from mountain tops and told you what to do.

And, I think most Christians look forward to the future in the same way…to some point when all the loose ends will be tied up, when God will finally be revealed and tell us ‘well done good and faithful servants’ and then explain all of life’s mysteries to us.

We spend a lot of time looking to the past and future revelations of God…but we find it really hard to talk about God’s presence in the…present. Maybe we’re scared if we look too hard for God in the present, that we won’t find anything.

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At first glance, it might appear that all our texts today are about God’s booming and glorious presence. They all seem to suggest that God enjoys using these clear and mighty signs to communicate. But the more I think about them, the more I wonder if that’s true.

In our reading from 2 Corinthians, Paul reflects on the story from Exodus when Moses is forced to wear a veil over his face after he communicates with God because the way his face looks after these encounters scares everyone else.

But Paul says that the veil is also metaphorical, and even still as God’s people hear the Word that a veil covers our minds unless it is set aside by Christ.

What is the veil that lies over our minds?

I always thought the veil in the story of Moses was needed to dumb down and filter out the overwhelming glory of God: that the splendor of God would be too much for us…that if we actually saw God face to face that our faces would melt off like that terrifying scene from Indiana Jones when the Ark of the Covenant is opened.

But what if the veil was exactly the opposite? What if the people needed Moses to wear the veil in order to make God seem more other-worldly? More show-offy? More like a Super Bowl Halftime Show. More like our expectation for what God should look like.

What if the people demanded the veil to make God seem more transcendent and further away, when instead, all along, God has wanted to be more present, more available to us?

What if the veil that lies over our minds is our need for impressiveness and might? Our insistence on visible glory?

This is exactly what is going on today’s Gospel reading which relates this strange experience that Christians now call the Transfiguration. In this story, the three closest disciples of Jesus climb up a (literal and metaphorical) mountain with him to pray. We know that the disciples, like everyone, longed for dramatic signs to prove that Jesus was indeed the Son of God…and to a certain extent, God indulges them. Jesus appears in dazzling light and suddenly he’s conversing with Moses and Elijah.

And then Peter starts talking. Usually, at this point I make fun of Peter and his confused response to the situation, but now I understand him. He must think, “finally.” Finally, everyone can see the truth about Jesus. No more parables and riddles. No more arguments and ridicule. If he could just capture this moment. If he could build some foundation for this scene to keep going, then everyone could clearly see how powerful Jesus was. Peter wants to build the stage for this Superbowl Halftime Show.

But then the power becomes terrifying. God speaks through a cloud and says, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!” And just as God refers to the Son, they find just Jesus. Not neon Jesus, or cloud Jesus. Not Jesus, pal of Moses and Elijah. Not Superbowl Jesus. Just Jesus.

This is how God wants to be seen. Not out of this world, but right in this world. Not just in the past, nor just in the future, but right now.

Why is it so hard to see the Kingdom of God in the present?

No sooner has the dust settled from the Transfiguration than Jesus is climbing down the mountain and getting right to work healing and restoring others. This is God’s Chosen. This is the Christ we are called to follow: Jesus in the mess of life, bringing hope in the mundane.

We are called to see the world transfigured — to see the world in a new way. To notice the Kingdom of God in the world we actually live in. The presence of God in the present.

As near as a neighbor in need. As near as an awkward, stumbling prayer said among a few people who recognize the need for it.

As boring as taking just a few moments to read from scripture and reflect on God’s Word for you on any given day.

As risky as speaking out for someone who can’t do it themselves. As foolish as believing without worry that God will provide day after day.

In these moments, in our world, in the present, we are, like Paul said, “seeing with unveiled faces the glory of the Lord as though reflected in a mirror.”

Jeremiah 1:4-10; Psalm 71:1-6; 1 Corinthians 13:1-13; Luke 4:21-30

I feel like I maybe misled you. You see, last week I preached on the Spirit-enabled proclamation of the Gospel that Jesus claimed as his calling and that we are called to do also and how its result is that it sets us free. Which is true.

But ‘free’ is not always necessarily easy, comfortable, or even wanted. Our lectionary saves this inconvenient truth for this Sunday…

• last Sunday Jesus’ words inspire freedom
• this Sunday they inspire the people to try and throw Jesus off a cliff

Let’s talk about what’s going on here…

Jesus is in his hometown of Nazareth. He’s been travelling around, creating a name for himself, and now he’s back home and teaching in a synagogue filled with people that knew him from the time he was young.

He performs a bold, dramatic reading and interpretation of scripture, and seems to have successfully wowed the people there. Luke even tells us that everyone spoke well of him at this point.

Seems like a good time to take a bow, right? Instead Jesus begins to antagonize the assembly…first by putting words in their mouths, saying:

“Doubtless you will quote to me this proverb, ‘Doctor, cure yourself!’ And you will say, ‘Do here also in your hometown the things that we have heard you did at Capernaum.’

And before the people can confirm or deny whether they were actually planning on saying those things, Jesus scolds them with another proverb:

“Truly I tell you, no prophet is accepted in the prophet’s hometown.”

And I think that even at this point, the people there that day would have been OK…mostly perturbed that Jesus was bad at taking a compliment. But then Jesus takes his rant a step further. And he begins to interpret more scripture for them. He reminds them of a couple of well-known stories about Elijah and Elisha, two of the most important prophets in the Hebrew scriptures. Jesus brings up the story of Elijah and widow of Zarephath…a story about God sending Elijah to a widow outside the bounds of Israel, God’s chosen people. Jesus points out that while there were plenty of deserving widows in Israel to be saved, God chose to save a widow that was not part of Israel.

And again, Jesus quotes from scripture to bring to mind when Elisha is called to cleanse Naaman of leprosy. Naaman — the commander of another army — was cleansed ahead of lepers among God’s own chosen people.

Do you see the implication of what Jesus is telling his hometown crowd? They would have known those stories…but they wouldn’t have liked his Jesus was using them.

Just when they were expecting to get a special show from their own local hero, Jesus directly confronts them and tells them that his mission to proclaim the Good News in word and deed begins with pretty much anyone except his own people.

Well, now he’s done it. Jesus has taunted his own local support base to the point of murderous rage. The idea that Jesus would offer God’s favor to others — outsiders — before them was insulting enough to make them want to throw Jesus off a cliff.

(This will not be the last time that the words and deeds of Jesus put him in harm’s way.)

If you’re already feeling at home and comfortable and you hear that your own prophet’s favor is first for others and not for you…that is frustrating, angering news. But, wow, is it good news if you’re someone in need like the widow of Zarephath, or Naaman of Syria.

I’ve been thinking about what it means to feel at home and to feel homesick over the past couple weeks as I’ve travelled away from home and run into some challenges and unexpected health issues — a story for another time.

So I tried to remember the first time that I felt homesick, and I think it was in Middle School, when I attended a weekend Confirmation retreat. The retreat started out great. I was not a ‘cool kid’ but I could make the cool kids laugh so that was usually enough. The food was good. The music was good. And I enjoyed what was probably my first trip away from home without anyone from my family with me. But then something happened. It seems silly now, but I remember so clearly missing a catch in a game of football we were playing. It was a big enough flub that I attracted the ridicule of everyone that saw it. I was ashamed, and instead of making jokes, I became the joke.

I remember how quickly I went from feeling right at home to feeling this weird feeling in my stomach that I now know was homesickness.

Maybe you can relate to this sudden move from feeling at home to feeling homesick. It can happen even when you haven’t gone anywhere, but suddenly your home doesn’t feel like your home anymore.

The words and deeds of Jesus brought good news to people who knew this feeling. People who were pushed out by religious rules, by economic forces, by hunger, disease, and disability. Those Nazareth folks had just heard Jesus proclaim, after all, that his mission was to:

“…proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” (Luke 4.18–19 NRSV)

That sounded really nice until Jesus helped them realize that it meant he would refuse to cater to the powerful. He would refuse to give favors to the insiders, but would instead break the inside open to the outside — and to show that there are no borders to God’s love.

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When you are in the hometown crowd, it’s not that God doesn’t love you…it’s that God is inviting you to open yourself up to those who are not at home. To those who suffer the homesickness that comes with ridicule, with injustice, with loss and grieving.

And, yes, it seems unfair that Jesus cares first for the lost and the homesick…but when you and I find ourselves in need, we will know why. No matter how far from home we feel, Jesus has opened himself up — and us with him — so that all may share in abundant life.

Nehemiah 8:1-3, 5-6, 8-10; Psalm 19; 1 Corinthians 12:12-31; Luke 4:14-21

Don’t you wish you could have seen the eyes of those sitting there that day in the synagogue in Nazareth when Jesus showed up and surprised everyone?

What if Jesus showed up in our worship this morning, and read from scripture? What if Jesus himself preached the sermon for us today?

What text would Jesus pick? I don’t know…would he follow the lectionary cycle of readings that we use? If he picked a particular reading for us today…would that make that part of the Bible better…or more important to us? If he read from the Book of Habakkuk, for example, would we all feel like we came to school without having done our homework?

Most modern Christians have a…complicated relationship with the Bible. After all, it’s a complicated sacred text.

There are things in the Bible that are comforting, uplifting. There are things in the Bible that are troubling…contradictory…maddening sometimes.

And then there’s most of the Bible that — let’s admit it — mostly bores us.

Fortunately for the people of Nazareth in synagogue on that particular sabbath…Jesus did not pick a boring text. He was handed a scroll of Isaiah, and from that scroll he read portions of his choosing.

And then the drama: Jesus finishes reading and returns to his seat. Obviously the people of Nazareth know something is up because all of their eyes follow Jesus as he sits. They stare until he tells them this zinger: “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.” Jesus himself, the same Jesus that the people of Nazareth had known since his birth, that Jesus claimed to be the fulfillment of the scripture that he read.

I would have loved to see their eyes. Think about this scripture, though. Jesus is reading from scripture that was first proclaimed to people 500 years before he was born. And the words of Isaiah were extrememly important to those folks who lived through great change…tragedy and redemption. That scripture was for them. Of course, it meant something different to the folks in synagogue that day that Jesus read it. They heard this scripture about their ancestors and tried to figure out what it meant for them. And here comes Jesus who says if they want to know what it means, they have to know…him.

Plus, now we have this scripture…both the words of Isaiah in the Hebrew scriptures and the words of Jesus quoting Isaiah in the New Testament. What does it mean for us? How can scripture mean so many different things to different peoples?

So, the Bible is already somewhat complicated, but then we make it worse because different people interpret different parts of the Bible differently. Sometimes different is OK — and sometimes it isn’t: almost every evil deed there is can be justified by quoting selectively from scripture. The Bible can be used to condemn people and trap them. Many of our brothers and sisters in Christ use the Bible so cruelly that it makes me hesitant to admit that I read the same one.

That’s a shame, because as we’ve heard in today’s readings…the Bible can do some pretty amazing things.

So, here are a couple things to know about how people talk about scripture and the claims they make about it.

Some people claim the Bible is inerrant.

• the Bible means exactly what they think it means — no more, no less
• The Bible is the trump card that they can play in any hand

Problems:

• the Bible never actually claims this about itself
• look no further than today’s reading
• discounts Sin
• God’s Word may be perfect but we are not, even literal readers
• idolizes a book

If you looked in our church’s constitution you would see that it does not claim that the Bible is inerrant. Instead, it describes the Bible as inspired.

• Spirit within it
• God takes otherwise dead words and breathes life into them
• God uses scripture to breath life into us, into the church, and into the world
• Bible itself not holy, but God’s Spirit that blows through it

And just listen to it blow through the scripture that Jesus chose to read for his hometown crowd in Nazareth:

“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” (Luke 4.18–19 NRSV)

See, you know the Spirit is at work when these things are happening…when good news is proclaimed to the people that need to hear it…when bound and stuck people are set free.

Sent by the Spirit, the Word of God does two things: it reveals the truth of how we are all bound and chained to our own Sin, and then it sets us free.

The Law destroys the parts of us that try to play God, our sinful side…the parts that still believe we can achieve God’s love…and Grace makes us alive again through God’s righteousness…not our own.

So much of what passes for ‘Gospel’ in our modern use of the Bible is actually just Law. We believe that God will love us if we just go to church. If we just be nice to people around us. If we just say our prayers and know in our heart that we love God. In other words…we do have to win God’s favor, but God makes it really, really easy. This is the worst kind of Law because when we inevitably fail at these seemingly easy tasks…when we aren’t nice to the people around us. When we forget to pray and when we feel doubt in our hearts…then we’re really trapped because: if we mess up the easy tasks…what hope do we have?

Our hope is in Grace. The Good News. In the Word of God made flesh.

There is no ‘God loves us if we just…’ there is only ‘God loves us even though.’ The Gospel proclaims that from anything and everything that can bind you, God sets you free.

This is what God’s Word does to us. Whether that Word is read from a page of the Bible, preached in a sermon, sung in a hymn, or shared around the dinner or over coffee with a friend. Sometimes you (not just me the preacher) get to be the voice that God uses to set people free. Actually helping others be set free is part of our mission.

The Word made flesh is made real in our lives when the Spirit enters our story, and the stories of others through us. Jesus does show up in our worship, reading, praying, serving others. In using our gifts. Jesus shows up in our words when we set people free with the Good News.