O Wisdom!
The O Antiphons are a series of 7 ancient Christian prayers traditionally sung or recited during Vespers (evening prayer) on the last seven nights of Advent. Each of the antiphons, which are based on the words of the prophet Isaiah, begins with a title for Christ, revealing an aspect of his role in salvation history and expressing our great longing for the coming of the Messiah. While you may never have heard of the O Antiphons before, you’re probably familiar with them, as they are the basis for the hymn “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel.” We’ll focus on that familiar form in our reflections this week.
We pray:
O Come, O Wisdom from on high, embracing all things far and nigh:
in strength and beauty come and stay; teach us your will and guide our way.
Tonight we reflect on Christ as the Wisdom of God’s great plan for salvation, a plan begun at the dawn of time, encompassing all of creation — Christ as the Word made Flesh; the Way, the Truth, and the Light. Can you recall a time when you have needed Christ’s guidance in the past year? A time when the world has seemed chaotic and purposeless, or when you were unable to find God in your life? Maybe a friend has expressed feeling lost, or a co-worker has needed strength and support. Have you wondered how your hands could work for God’s will, and how your feet could follow God’s way?
Hear this good news:
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to you, O Israel!
Amen
When Jesus Shows Up Unexpectedly
by The Rev. Anne Edison-Albright
Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?’ And the king will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.’ Matthew 25:37-40
Jesus is not speaking metaphorically, here. He means it. When we care for people in this way, we are caring for Jesus. When we meet people who are in need, we are meeting Jesus.
But what if the Jesus we meet is mentally ill? What if Jesus is drunk or belligerent? What if Jesus repays our kindness by stealing from us, taking advantage of us, manipulating us? What if Jesus gets violent and we fear for our safety? What if Jesus asks for something it’s just not possible for us to give?
The Bible doesn’t say “welcome the stranger as long as the stranger is easy to get along with,” “feed the hungry as long as they don’t make unreasonable demands,” or “visit the sick unless they’re sick in a scary way.” Jesus doesn’t put conditions on loving and caring for our neighbors. And that’s a very difficult challenge to live out.
Christians throughout the centuries have struggled with the question of how to care for our neighbors, how to care for Christ himself, when providing that care is difficult, dangerous or seemingly impossible. You have probably encountered this question yourself. This article contains some suggestions for how to meet and care for Christ in difficult situations, as well as information about our policies for offering emergency assistance at Redeemer.
When Jesus shows up at church
A visitor came to Redeemer during our Wednesday evening meal time. She needed a place to stay. Several members of Redeemer came together to meet her immediate needs; they found a place where she could stay. But, a day or so later, she had to leave that place. She tried many other places in our area, but was always asked to leave after a short time. Once again, she had no place to stay, and had run out of places to go.
We can only speculate about the reasons why. It may be that there was “no room at the inn”–the problems that Mary and Joseph had finding housing in Bethlehem provides a good point of comparison. It could be that there was room, but the inn was ill-equipped to provide what the visitor needed: many persistently homeless people struggle with severe, untreated mental illness and/or addictions that make it impossible to retain housing, even with the help of individuals and institutions. Facing situations like this one is frustrating, frightening, and overwhelming for everyone involved. It truly feels like there are no options. How do we meet and care for Jesus against these odds?
Redeemer’s policy on providing assistance for walk-ins (people who don’t have any connection to Redeemer but look to churches as sources of help in hard times) is consistent with the other Lutheran churches in town: we provide $20, fuel-only gas cards for people who are willing to come to the church and meet with the pastor. During that meeting, I assess their needs and try to connect them with resources in the area, such as Health and Human Services, Bootstrap, and The Salvation Army. The money for the fuel cards comes from the Good Samaritan Fund, which is a budgeted part of Redeemer’s general fund. No additional monetary resources are provided by the church. Most churches are unable to sustain significant financial assistance to individuals or families, and providing rent or utilities assistance to one person can mean we’d be unable to provide any other assistance to anyone else. Redeemer generously supports—through financial support and volunteer support—organizations in Stevens Point that are able to provide and sustain assistance with housing, child care, utilities and food for large numbers of people. Some other Lutheran churches in our area offer a Community Food Shelf—a ministry we may want to consider as our space and resources grow.
Visitors in need of assistance who come to Redeemer on Wednesday nights or Sunday mornings have the opportunity to eat and worship with us—receiving a full and warm welcome to the dinner table and to the Lord’s Table. This welcome is given with healthy amounts of both compassion and caution. Situations that may cause harm to the person in need or to anyone around them are real possibilities that can’t always be avoided, but should be avoided when possible.
When caring for Jesus gets complicated
It may have happened to you already. If it hasn’t, at some point in your life, you will give generously to someone who then lets you down in some way. While painful, this is usually not the end of the world—we don’t give to receive gratitude, and we can trust that even people who manipulate, steal, and lie to receive assistance are beloved and in the care of God. The Holy Spirit is at work in ways we may never see, using our gifts to make a real change in that person. The Holy Spirit is at work in us, too, coaxing us to give and give again, even when we’ve had bad experiences with giving.
Sometimes, caring for people in need can become dangerous. Significant loss of resources and even threats of violence can result from our interactions with people whose needs are desperately great. We can find ourselves in over our heads and stretched beyond our ability to help.
At times like these, it is important to remember that we are completely forgiven by God through Christ, and so we are called to forgive others and forgive ourselves. Forgiveness for self and others is important when your generosity has been abused. Forgiveness for self and others is also important when you decide you cannot afford the risk that comes from helping someone. Remember: you and the person you are unable to help are both precious and beloved of God. Your life and safety is important. So is theirs. You can trust that, if you cannot help someone, God is going to find another way to help them. The burden of being God is not on you.
What can I do to help?
You are not God, but you are called to act as God’s hands and feet in the world. Given the challenges of caring for our neighbors in need, what can we do?
Pray
This sometimes feels like a last resort, but it’s actually a wonderful place to start and to return to again and again. Pray for your own strength, wisdom, and ability to care as well as for the person in need. You may worry that prayer isn’t a very tangible, immediate response to the real needs of people you meet. Be assured that prayer results in very tangible, real help for people in all sorts of need. You may never see those results, and the results may not be exactly what you prayed for, but God is surely at work and responding to your prayers.
Be humane AND safe
A very basic thing to remember is that people in need are human, and relating to them as fellow humans, as brothers and sisters in Christ, goes a long way. Even if you can’t help in any other way, a basic show of respect for the dignity of others can make a huge, long-lasting difference.
It may be “basic,” but it’s actually not all that simple. One formerly homeless woman said she would always give thanks for the people who were willing to look her in the eye and speak to her directly, rather than run past her with eyes averted, pretending she didn’t exist. But eye contact and directness can be triggers for people with mental illness, leading to unintended confrontations.* Each situation you encounter will be different—be alert, read the situation carefully, and be safe. Be guarded about giving out your full name, address or phone number. Be clear and consistent about what kind of assistance you can and cannot offer. Remove yourself from the situation if the person becomes angry or shows signs of violence. If you need to, call the police.
Remember that people in need may surprise you in wonderful ways, too. You may be so focused on helping them and caring for them that you don’t realize how capable they are of helping and caring for you and others. When charity turns into accompaniment—a mutual ministry of caring—everyone involved is affirmed and blessed as gifted children of God.
Support long term solutions, systemic change and justice
This is the best way to make a real difference in the lives of a large number of people: work to change the conditions that lead to poverty, hunger, preventable illness, untreated mental illness and addiction. This work is takes longer to accomplish but lasts longer, too. Examples of organizations that work for systemic change and justice include:
- Shama, the group that uses Redeemer’s kitchen space for fundraisers benefitting women and children in India. Shama provides microloans for women to start their own businesses. Empowering women in this way improves the lives of their families and their whole communities. The women are quickly able to pay back the organization—an act of financial independence that provides further empowerment.
- Bread for the World, an ecumenical advocacy group. This is an organization that lobbies Congress, supporting legislation that seeks to combat hunger in the US and around the world. It is a non-partisan voice for ending hunger through improving government policies.
- ELCA World Hunger. While some of the money donated to ELCA World Hunger goes to meeting immediate emergency needs (in response to natural disasters, for example) most of the funds go to projects that seek sustainable, local, long-term solutions to hunger-related problems. “Where there’s a well, there’s a way,” the water justice program started by the 5th and 6th graders at Redeemer, is an effort to raise money for an ELCA World Hunger program. One well, one source of clean water, can dramatically change the lives of several hundred people, especially children who are most susceptible to water-borne diseases. ELCA World Hunger also works with international organizations and local partners to support sustainable agriculture, drought prevention, and projects to combat preventable diseases like malaria.
Provide emergency assistance and charity
Charity alone is not a sustainable solution; it can lead to a cycle of disempowering dependence and allow corrupt and oppressive systems and institutions to continue unquestioned. But justice work is slow, and people are in need of help right now. The Salvation Army, Bootstrap, the Crisis Center and Portage County Health and Human Services are all organizations in our area that provide both immediate emergency assistance and some assistance with transitions to more long term solutions for work and housing. The resources of these local organizations are spread very thin, which is why more and more people are looking to churches and individuals for additional help. In some cases, you may be moved to help someone with direct emergency assistance. This may not always turn out the way you planned, but God will work through your gift in ways you may never have expected.
Give generously to the ministry and mission of Redeemer Lutheran Church
When you pledge and give to the General Fund at Redeemer—the money you put in the offering plate or have automatically deducted each month through Simply Giving—you aren’t just paying the bills, you’re making a significant contribution to both long-term justice work and emergency charity needs. Redeemer allocates 20% of each yearly budget to supporting local and national organizations, such as Bootstrap and the ELCA World Hunger appeal. Redeemer consistently ranks in the Top 5 giving congregations in our synod, not only by the percentage we give, but also by the actual amount we give to helping people in need. These gifts—along with generous contributions of volunteer time and support for special projects like Thanksgiving Baskets and school supply drives—make a real, tangible difference in the lives of countless people, both in the short and long term.
Talk to generous people; find out what they do
The suggestions in this article and your own experiences with giving are a good place to start, but the best way to learn generosity is by entering into conversation with other generous people. What motivates them? What do they do when giving is difficult? Talk to people who are generous in different ways—with their time, talents or treasure.
We are all beggars; this is true. –Martin Luther
Most of this article has focused on the challenge to give to people we don’t know very well—people who drop by the church looking for help or people in other countries who we may never get to meet. This can sometimes lead to the assumption that they are needy and we are not—that it is up to us to help them. But need is not a them, out there condition—it is an all of us condition, a human condition. Martin Luther’s last written words—“We are all beggars; this is true”—remind us that, in various and very real ways, we are all needy. We are all in desperate need of God’s love, grace and forgiveness. We need each other, too—we need the whole Body of Christ to care for us, support us, forgive us and strengthen us.
As many of you know from personal experience, genuine need is not something we have to look far away to find. There are members and friends of Redeemer who have needed emergency assistance in the past or are in need of it right now. You may be in the middle of such a time of need, yourself. If you are in need, contact me or a member of the congregation council so we can brainstorm ways to help or get you in contact with help. If you are in a position to help congregation members in need, make sure Pastor Annie and members of the congregation council know that you are ready and willing to be called upon to help. For inspiration, listen to this story from This I Believe about God working through a congregation to provide crucial assistance at a critical time.
Jesus is always unexpected
Sometimes Jesus shows up unexpectedly, needing food, water, housing, healing, and someone to talk to. It’s unexpected, but it shouldn’t really surprise us too much. Jesus always shows up in unexpected ways: as a vulnerable infant born to a poor family; as a refugee; as a friend to prostitutes, tax collectors, and sinners; as a convicted criminal, dying on the cross. Jesus showing up on Easter morning is about as unexpected as it gets; Jesus showing up every Sunday morning, in the bread and wine of Holy Communion, is beyond the ability of reason to expect. The unexpected Jesus challenges us, in many ways, to see the image of God in our neighbors and to reveal the image of God in all we say and do. It is not easy, but we are not alone: Christ goes with us, expected or not.
*ETA: A friend read this and rightly reminded me not to conflate mental illness with violence. People with mental illness are more likely to be the victims of violence than the perpetrators of violence. Trying to predict ahead of time who will or won’t be violent is not feasible and not a good way to live. Approach each situation–whether it involves mental illness or not–with an appropriate level of concern. Here’s an excellent article about mental illness and violence: http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC1525086/.
Remembering Bob Friedrich
Bob Friedrich, a member of Redeemer, died on Saturday, September 3. This post includes text of the sermon from his funeral and his obituary. The funeral was on Wednesday, September 7, at 10 am at Trinity Lutheran Church, The Rev. Anne Edison-Albright preaching and presiding. The texts for the day (chosen by Bob) were Psalm 23 and Luke 24:13-35.
Let us pray. God, send your Holy Spirit to all of us today. Stir up memories of Bob that we can share with each other. Send your peace and joy into our remembering and grieving today and in all the days to come. Amen.
On Saturday morning I went to Bob and Barb’s house to have a short service of anointing, communion and prayer with all the family gathered together. We all understood that this was one of those last things, something that you do to mark the end of life on earth. Bob’s breathing was starting to slow down and he had moments where he seemed to leave the room for awhile. And then he’d be back, smiling at us, looking lovingly at Barb, adding a word or two to the conversation.
After the service I had a moment alone with Bob. Nervously, I asked the question that was on my mind and heart: “Bob, are you ready?”
His gaze sharpened, he looked steadily, right at me and in a completely normal Bob voice he said: “Yes! Where are we going?”
I was too surprised to respond! Then Bob smiled, and it was clear that Bob knew exactly where he was going. He was leaving on his next big trip, his next adventure. He was going to see his son, Pete. And he was ready.
"Winding Road" by Barbara Sosson, the image from the cover of Bob's funeral bulletin.
Bob loved to travel. He loved all the different parts of it: planning, traveling itself, and getting to the destination. When asked about his earliest memory from childhood, Bob described Sunday afternoon drives with his family: his mom, Lillian, his dad, Karl, his sister, Ann, and his brother, Richard. As they drove, Lillian would be in the front seat, peeling apples for the kids to eat. This memory brought tears to Bob’s eyes, this simple, beautiful expression of his mother’s love.
Bob’s mother loved to travel, too. Karl Friedrich ran a grocery store, which meant that he worked 7 days a week with no time off, so longer trips for Bob were always with his Mom. She would take the kids to visit family in Illinois, Iowa and California. Bob remembered the time his Uncle Bill and Uncle Norm took them on a 250 mile “shortcut” through orange groves in California. The smell of the oranges and the joy of that journey stayed with Bob and gave him a love of travel not only as a means to a destination but as something to enjoy for its own sake, for the adventures you can have and memories you can form on the way to someplace else. It’s something Bob’s son, Peter, especially, seemed to inherit from his dad. Bob remembered how Pete’s trips home from college would seem to take forever because he was always stopping along the road striking up conversations with strangers in restaurants.
The story we just heard from the Gospel of Luke is a story about traveling, not only for the sake of the destination, but for the conversation that happens on the way, in-between the place you left and the place you’re going.
On the third day after Jesus was crucified, two of his disciples walked from Jerusalem to Emmaus, a journey of about 7 miles. The trip gave them a chance to talk about everything they’d been going through: the death of Jesus, their teacher and their friend; the hopes they’d had for the redemption of Israel; the strange stories they’d heard that morning from the women who went to the tomb and found it empty, and from Peter, who’d gone to see for himself that Jesus’ body was gone.
They were sad. They didn’t dare to have hope. When a stranger joined them on the road they invited him into their conversation. They told him everything that had been going on in Jerusalem, and then the stranger used Holy Scripture to explain what it all meant. Later, they realized that the stranger they’d met on the road was really Jesus. Even and especially when we don’t realize it, Jesus is our traveling companion, the one who walks with us on the road, who meets us in unexpected people and places, and who guides us, like a shepherd, through even the darkest valleys.
When Peter Friedrich, Bob’s son, died suddenly in 2007, Bob and his family found themselves in a valley they never could have predicted or imagined. Bob said the experience of losing Pete made him realize how important it was to trust God. Not easy, but important. He realized that he trusted God even when life didn’t make sense, even when loss and grief was overwhelming and God seemed far away. Bob hung on to that trust, that faith that God had not abandoned him on the road.
God was walking that road with Bob, and so was Barb, Bob’s wife and his beloved traveling companion. Bob and Barb met when they were 15 years old at a Friday night dance at the rec center. Barb was scanning the crowd, looking for tall guys. Right away she noticed one head sticking out above all the others, and thought, “Well, he’s kind of cute!” Bob was quite pleased to get that kind of attention from such a good looking blonde, and as they got to know each other better he realized that this pretty, tall girl was also smart, and fun, and wonderful to talk to, and they’d talk for hours and hours on the phone.
Barb’s notes got Bob through his two worst subjects in high school: chemistry and biology. Bob’s hard work and intensive study made those two subjects his best in college, and he went on to graduate Magna Cum Laude from the Medical College of Wisconsin in Milwaukee. Bob’s comment on that achievement: “I did OK.”
Soon after medical school Bob served in the Navy, and that meant a lot of traveling. Korea, the Philippines, Singapore and Spain for Bob as well as several big moves for Barb and their growing family. Their traveling started when Ryan was two and Barb was pregnant with Heidi. By the time Peter was born, they’d lived in all four corners of the country: Florida, California, Washington State and Maine.
Overall, Bob and Barb look back on this as a good time, but clearly it was a hard time, too, especially when Bob was away. Every time he was home on leave, about 10 days before he was due to depart again, Bob and Barb would start fighting. They realized it was their way of trying to make it easier for both of them when he left. When Bob got his cancer diagnosis in October 2008, he told Barb: “We’re not going to do that this time. We don’t have to fight because I’m leaving.”
With a diagnosis of cancer and a prognosis of less than 4 months to live, Bob, at first, found it difficult to make and keep any plans. Chemotherapy sometimes made him very sick, and the combination of not knowing how well he’d feel, or even if he’d be alive at all, made any kind of long term planning difficult. For a man who loved to plan things, this was a hard adjustment. But as weeks turned into months and months turned into years, Bob realized that living with cancer was different, but could still be wonderful and packed full of gatherings with family and friends, making treasured memories together.
He said it made him more spontaneous, a claim that was tested when Barb came home from a silent auction and presented Bob with something called: “The Packer Experience.” It included a personalized tour of Lambeau Field, passes to get out on the field before the game, and sky box seats for the game which included a delicious gourmet meal. But the event was months away. Bob remembered thinking, “What if I’m too sick to go? What if I’m not around at all?”
But Bob wasn’t too sick to go, and Ryan, Jim and Jeffrey went with him. When Bob told stories about that day he absolutely glowed with joy: “I had such a wonderful time,” he said.
A fishing trip to Canada with Bob Reko, a trip to Vegas with Judi and Gary Cumley, and, most of all, frequent trips to the family cottage on the lake and visits with children, grandchildren and extended family … these brought joy and hope to Bob, right in the middle of his most difficult times with cancer.
The story we heard about the disciples on the road to Emmaus is a story about how God is revealed in the last place we’d expect at the most unlikely times. Jesus was the last person the disciples expected to meet on the road that day, and yet, there he was, revealed to them in the act of breaking bread and sharing it, stirring up memories in them of all the times he’d broken bread and shared meals with them before.
On Bob’s journey through life, God was revealed in the loving act of a mother, peeling apples for her children. God was revealed in the smell of oranges in California, in the sound of Barb’s voice over the telephone when they were teenagers, and in the sound of her voice right next to him at his beside when he died.
God was revealed in the way little Ryan’s eyes went wide the first time Bob took him out on that big Navy ship to meet the guys. God was revealed on Bob’s motorcycle trip to see Pete in Colorado. On that trip, Bob was amazed by the thunderstorms in Nebraska and the strong winds blowing over the plains in South Dakota. God is revealed in the little boy that Heidi is due to deliver tomorrow, a miracle of life and hope in the midst of loss. (Update: Jackson “Jack” Friedrich Chitwood was born on Thursday, September 8: 10 lbs 1 oz, 21 1/4 inches long, with a full head of dark hair and BIG feet. Mom and baby are doing great!)
Think about the moment when your life journey intersected with Bob’s. Are you a friend from Oshkosh, from college, from medical school? Did you meet Bob in the Navy, at St. Joseph’s hospital in Milwaukee, at St. Michael’s, or at church? Whether you’ve known Bob for your whole life or for just a short time, think about how your life is different because you knew him.
Your life’s journey and Bob’s life journey intersected. How did it change your direction? How did it lead you to places you wouldn’t have gone, otherwise? How did Bob’s life reveal the risen Christ to you, how did it show you the love of God in unexpected, surprising, wonderful ways?
God was revealed to us in Bob’s life—In his work, his love for his family, his sense of humor and so many other ways—and God is also revealed in Bob’s death. God our loving Father speaks to us today through the songs and the words from the Bible that Bob chose for this funeral. If you look around at the people around you, you’ll see God revealed in the faces of all these people who knew Bob and have come to remember him, to celebrate his life on earth and his new life in heaven.
God is revealed to us today just as Jesus was revealed to his disciples when they stopped on the road to share a meal together: God is revealed in the breaking of the bread. As we stop for a moment on the road, and share this meal together, we are joined at this table by a whole communion, a whole community of saints. Bob and all our dear ones who have died join us at this table, just as surely as Jesus is truly present with us in the bread and in the wine.
“Where are we going?” Bob asked. Bob knew where he was going. He knew that his journey on earth was ending and his eternal journey with God was just beginning.
So, where are we going? We are continuing this journey through life, blessed by memories of Bob, and with God as our constant traveling companion. We may not always feel ready for this journey, we may not always see or understand the road ahead, but, like Bob, we trust that God walks with us, and that, on the way to our destination, God will be revealed in surprising, wonderful ways.
Let us pray: God, we give you thanks for Bob’s last journey on earth and his safe arrival into eternal life. Walk with us as we miss Bob, as we mourn him, as we remember all the ways he touched the lives of all those around him. Lead and guide us on our journeys through life, and in, in the end, reunite us with Bob and all our loved ones. In the name of your risen son, Jesus Christ, we pray. Amen.
***
Obituary for Robert C. Friedrich
Robert C. Friedrich, 60, of Stevens Point, died on Saturday, September 3, 2011 at home. Present were his wife, children, grandchildren, brother, sister, and extended family. During the week preceding his death Bob was surrounded with love, laughter, and wonderful memories of happy times.
Robert (Bob) was raised in Oshkosh, WI where he met and married his high school sweetheart, Barbara. He went on to graduate from Carroll College in 1973 and magnum cum laude from the Medical College of Wisconsin in Milwaukee in 1977. After graduation he proudly served in the U.S. Navy, finishing his tour of duty as a Flight Surgeon. Bob completed his residency at St. Joseph’s Hospital in Milwaukee in Diagnostic Radiology in 1985.
Bob and Barb moved their family to Stevens Point in 1985 when Bob joined the Central Wisconsin Radiologists of which he became department chair and president. Bob was also named chief of the medical staff at St. Michael’s Hospital from 2008-2009.
Bob’s generous, loving spirit was a blessing to all who knew him. He had the gift of being able to listen and connect with those around him, and his generosity of time & attention was boundless. His amazing memory for details served him well professionally and socially. He loved sports, both playing, and discussing statistics. Bob loved to travel, an interest which started as a boy. He lived on both coasts of the U.S. while serving in the Navy and continued to enjoy travel throughout his life. Bob touched many lives, and those privileged to know him were forever changed, as he was by them.
Bob leaves behind his loving family: wife Barbara, son Ryan (Elisabeth) Friedrich, Stoughton, WI, daughter Heidi (Matthew) Chitwood, Stevens Point, WI, sister Ann Friedrich, Lenexa, KS, brother Richard Friedrich, Oshkosh, WI, grandchildren, nieces, nephews, and many loving extended family members. He is preceded in death by his loving son Peter Stuart and his parents Karl and Lillian.
Visitation will be on Tuesday, September 6, 2011 from 4:00-8:00 PM at the Shuda Funeral Chapel. Funeral services will be held Wednesday, September 7, 2011 at 10:00 AM at Trinity Lutheran Church in Stevens Point with visitation from 9:00 AM to the time of services at the church.
In lieu of flowers memorial contributions can be made to the Peter Stuart Friedrich Memorial Fund at the Central Wisconsin Community Foundation or to Redeemer Lutheran Church, Stevens Point.
Our cross to bear
Sermon for Sunday, August 28, 2011. The Rev. Anne Edison-Albright, preaching. Sermon text: Matthew 16:21-28. Right click to download the MP3.
Jesus told his disciples, ‘If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” This is a well-known verse, a verse that’s made its way into our culture in all sorts of ways. Sometimes it’s used for good: a verse used to strengthen and encourage today’s disciples when the path gets rough and when following Jesus becomes difficult.
More often, though, it’s used for … something other than good. I hesitate to use the word evil, because that’s such a strong word, and I don’t think the harm done with this verse is usually malicious. But, intentionally or unintentionally, this verse is used to hurt people.
“Take up your cross and follow me” turns into, “This is your cross to bear.” It is used to convince people to stay in abusive marriages: “You have to stay with him. This is your cross to bear.” It is used to discount the pain and hardship of caring for a loved one who is unable to care for themselves: “Your sister needs you. This is your cross to bear.” It is a verse that’s used to shut people down when they have the audacity to complain a little bit about the hardships of their life. It is a conversation ender. And what it communicates is this: “Stop complaining. God gave you this burden to bear, so bear it.”
Used this way, the cross becomes a symbol of the heavy burden of human suffering, suffering that God brings on us, or that we bring on ourselves. But no matter where it comes from, suffering that must be borne all by ourselves as a test, as a sign of self-denial and endurance, as a way of proving to God and to each other, that we are true Christians because we can bear that heavy cross. We can bear our own burdens.
Compare that heavy image of the cross to the cross that Avery Mae Staege will receive on her forehead today. As she is baptized, Avery will die to sin and be born again to forgiveness, born to a new life, born into the promise of eternal life with God. To put that famous verse back into more of its context, she will take up her cross, and she will lose her life in order to save it.
I will use oil to mark the sign of the cross on her forehead. The message of that cross is that she is special, a beloved child of God. She has been anointed, which means she’s been chosen, given a special purpose, a special mission and vocation to share the good news of Jesus with her own voice, with her own hands and feet, using the gifts God has given to her.
The cross that Avery takes on today connects her as a sister to everyone who has been baptized: the whole communion of saints, living on earth and living eternally with God.
What a different kind of cross this is: a cross that connects us, completely and eternally with God and with the whole people of God, rather than a cross that condemns us to carry our burdens stoically, alone. The cross we take on and take up at our baptism is a cross that frees us, not a cross that weighs us down.
Take a look at the cross on the front of your bulletin. This is the cross that appears on the most recent Lutheran hymnal, Evangelical Lutheran Worship. I love it because at first it looks fairly simple, but there’s more to it than first meets the eye. When you look at this cross, do you see the nails? The design inside the cross is designed to make it look like the cross is made out of four nails. This a reminder of the way Christ died and the painful suffering of his death.
Around the cross there are some designs. [What do these look like to you … possible images discussed.] When I look at these designs, I see leaves. Leaves around the cross are there to make us remember the passage from Revelation about the tree of life, the tree that grows between two rivers in the New Jerusalem, the tree with leaves for the healing of the nations.
Within this cross we have the nails, an image of Christ’s suffering, and the leaves, an image of healing and hope for all people. Together they form the cross, an image of pure compassion.
What a different kind of cross this is, a cross that proclaims the unending compassion of Christ, a rather than a tool to make people feel guilty and ashamed when their human suffering is too much to bear.
The next time you hear that we all have our own crosses to bear, remember that the cross Jesus calls his disciples to bear is not a cross of stoic suffering. You are not called to bear the cross of an abusive spouse, parent, family member or friend. You are not called to shoulder your pain with a smile, keeping your suffering to yourself. You are called to bear the cross you received at your baptism: you are called to lose your life of sin, worry, doubt and fear and gain a life of freedom, forgiveness, community and love.
The cross neither inflicts suffering on us nor shields us from suffering. Jesus didn’t suffer and die on the cross to make us suffer, but he also didn’t suffer and die on the cross to prevent us from experiencing the pain and suffering of human life. Instead, the cross of Christ frees us to respond to suffering with deep compassion and to know that, in our own times of suffering, we are never abandoned. We are never alone.
“Deny yourself,” says Jesus. “Let go of everything that’s holding you back, all of your sin, your fear, your anger. I’ve freed you from all of that. Your hands are free now, so pick up your cross. Pick up the cross of baptism, freedom, vocation, community and compassion. And follow me.” Amen.
Moralistic Therapeutic Deism
Sermon for Sunday, August 21, 2011. The Rev. Anne Edison-Albright, preaching. Sermon texts: Isaiah 51:1-6, Romans 12:1-8, Matthew 16:13-20. Right click to download the MP3.
I keep coming back to the last verses from our reading from Isaiah today. Lift up your eyes to the heavens, Isaiah says, and look at the earth beneath. The stars seem like they’ve been there forever and will never change. The earth seems so solid, so firm and real to us.
But the heavens will vanish like smoke, and the earth will wear out like a garment. Even our own lives will end—a fact that sometimes feels very real and present to us, and is sometimes as unimaginable as a giant mountain crumbling into sand.
All of these things we trust and depend on will fade away, says Isaiah, but our salvation will be forever, and our deliverance will never be ended.
It’s a statement of faith.
In a world where everything that seems solid and lasting is an illusion, God’s promises are solid. God’s promises are not an illusion.
But is this what we really believe?
Is this the faith that we preach, and teach, and share with our children and our neighbors?
According to the National Study of Youth and Religion, the answer is no. The strong, solid promises of God are not what we’re teaching.
The National Study of Youth and Religion was a massive, nationwide study conducted from 2003 to 2005. It was intended to gather data on the attitudes of youth toward religion. Its findings were surprising to some, not surprising to others: A large majority of American youth have a favorable attitude toward religion. The reason for that favorable attitude is that most American youth see religion in their lives, families and communities as mostly harmless.
Religion is an extracurricular activity, like sports or music. It’s a nice thing for a well rounded person to have on their college application. It’s a nice thing to do on the weekends or on Wednesdays, especially when you get to do service projects now and then. It’s a nice way to spend time with family and friends. The music is nice, the people are nice, the youth are encouraged to be nice and kind and do the right thing.
Religion is nice, but it’s not meaningful. It’s not relevant. It’s not challenging in any way. For the majority of American youth, faith is a “whatever.” An afterthought, not the solid core of their lives.
There’s a great book about this study: Almost Christian by Kenda Creasy Dean. Dr. Dean points out that the findings of the National Study of Youth and Religion don’t just tell us about the attitudes and faith of teenagers. They reveal what pastors, priests, and parents are teaching those teenagers. And what we’re teaching is not Christianity. It’s something Dr. Dean calls Moralistic Therapeutic Deism.
Moralistic Therapeutic Deism is the faith of being nice, feeling good, and a God who doesn’t interfere with our lives.
Moralistic means that this faith is based on being nice and doing the right thing: good civic virtues. Moralistic faith teaches that, if you’re good, you’ll go to heaven.
Therapeutic means that this faith makes you feel good about yourself. It focuses on the goal of individual happiness and wellbeing. Therapeutic faith teaches that happiness, success, wealth and contentment are the blessings of religious life.
Deism means that God created the world and hasn’t been around ever since. God set things in motion, but once that was done, God stopped interfering, except maybe now and then to give us good things when we’re good and have done something to deserve God’s blessing. Deism teaches that God is benign and good, but not very powerful and not involved in our day-to-day lives.
Let’s compare Moralistic Therapeutic Deism to what’s going on in our Gospel lesson today. Jesus and the disciples travel to Caesarea Philippi, a city known for its religious pluralism. Various waves of conquerors left their religious mark on the city: A temple to the Ancient Near Eastern god, Baal. A temple to the Greek god, Pan. Jesus stood in the midst of these competing religious icons and asked the disciples, “Where do I fit in this picture? Who do people say the Son of Man is? Who do you say that I am?”
Peter responds with a statement of faith that bears no resemblance to Moralistic Therapeutic Deism. “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.”
If Jesus is the son of the living God, then God is not some distant, powerless deity. God is living, here and now. God is with us in real and powerful ways, this very day, this very moment.
If Jesus is the Messiah, then our faith can’t just be therapeutic. Faced with the reality of the cross, all those promises about faith giving us an easy, successful, pain-free life, wear out, vanish, and crumble like sand. We aren’t promised wealth and comfort, we’re promised salvation. Something much more solid, much more lasting. Something truly eternal.
If Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of the living God, then faith must be about much more than being nice. In next week’s Gospel lesson, Jesus goes from giving Simon the name Peter, and talking about building a church on Peter’s rock solid declaration of faith to turning around and calling Peter, “Satan.” As in “Get behind me, Satan.” That’s not very nice. But Jesus calls us to be more than just nice. Jesus calls us to compassion that breaks down our definitions of “us” and “them.” Jesus calls us to act as neighbors and as family to people we don’t know, even people we’d call our enemies.
The Christian church is not called to be a club, a nice place where friendly people who all look the same occasionally come together and do nice things. The Christian church, including this congregation, is called and challenged to be the Body of Christ, doing God’s work with our hands by actually being and acting as Christ in the world.
And what would Jesus do? Heal the sick, feed the hungry, eat with outcasts, overturn the status quo and make powerful people really, really angry.
Moralistic Therapeutic Deism is everywhere. It is very hard to avoid falling into it as believers and as teachers of faith to our children. Moralistic Therapeutic Deism is easy, it’s comfortable, it doesn’t ask very much of us or of God. And, at the end of the day, it will fail us. It is fleeting, immaterial and insubstantial. It’s based on our own power and goodness, rather than on God’s power and goodness. And, as Isaiah told us today, God’s power and goodness is the only solid thing we have, it’s the only thing that will last.
We don’t have to teach Moralistic Therapeutic Deism. We have been given the gift of a very different faith. Jesus points out that Peter’s statement of faith doesn’t come from Peter or from any other human source: it’s a gift from God, it’s a gift from the Holy Spirit.
The faith we’ve been given is real, it’s relevant and authentic, challenging and troubling, it’s every moment of every day and not just a part of our lives but the source of life itself.
When we join together in saying the Creed today, think about what we’re doing. Think about the radical statement of faith we’re making along with Christians all over the world. When we speak, and teach, and live out the content of that Creed we aren’t proclaiming the faith of Moralistic Therapeutic Deism. We’re proclaiming our faith in a challenging, relevant, truly present, living God. Amen.
Uncomfortable
Sermon for Sunday, August 14, 2011. The Rev. Anne Edison-Albright, preaching. Sermon text: Matthew 15: 21-28. Right click to download the MP3.
Our Gospel Lesson today makes me uncomfortable.
Specifically, the way Jesus talks to the Canaanite woman, this desperate mother who will do anything to help her daughter. The way Jesus talks to her makes me very uncomfortable.
Jesus says: ‘It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.’
As people who are generally favorably disposed toward dogs, we might not hear the full violence of that remark. But people in Jesus’ time would not have had any doubt; the meaning of his words would be quite clear to them. Jesus is saying that the Canaanite woman is unclean, sub-human, a dirty, disgusting animal.
Think of the worst ethnic slur you can imagine (and don’t say it out loud). If you can think of something truly terrible to say to someone of a different race or ethnicity than you, then you can imagine the weight, meaning and impact of Jesus’ words to the Canaanite woman.
Why does he do it?
Why would Jesus say something so awful?
Theologians reading this passage tend to split into two camps: those who believe Jesus meant what he said, and those who believe that he didn’t.
Some people argue that we are seeing a very human Jesus, here: a Jesus who reflects the prejudices and hostilities of his time. He means it when he says that he was sent only to heal the children of Israel, and really does think that healing the Canaanite woman’s daughter is a waste of time and resources.
If this is the way you read this story, then you believe that the Canaanite woman’s answer and profound faith actually changes Jesus’ mind. Before meeting her, he thought he was sent only to one nation; after meeting her, he begins to realize that he is God’s living grace for all people.
That’s one way of reading it.
Another way of reading it is that Jesus is trying to teach his disciples a lesson. Right before this encounter, Jesus tried to teach the disciples and the crowds about clean and unclean, and was beginning to expand the definition of what could be considered “clean.” When the Canaanite woman approaches him, the disciples fail to apply the lesson they’ve just learned from Jesus, and try to shoo her away. Their prejudice is so ingrained in them, just like it is ingrained in us, that they probably didn’t even realize what they were doing and why. They just knew instinctively that this unclean, foreign woman should be kept away from their teacher.
Jesus calls them out on it, saying explicitly and bluntly what they’d been acting on instinctively. And being, God, Jesus knew that the Canaanite woman would have the perfect comeback line: ‘Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.’ The Canaanite woman’s faith becomes a powerful lesson for the disciples, who realize, maybe for the first time, that people who look, speak and worship differently from them are just as much loved and chosen by God as they are.
Two very different ways of reading the same story. But, honestly, neither reading takes away that uncomfortable, almost sick feeling I get when I read this. Whether or not he meant what he said, Jesus’ words to this woman are cruel. The words themselves should make us uncomfortable, because, no matter how you read them, these words force us to confront our own prejudices, our own instinctive hatred of “the other.”
Who do we treat like dogs?
Who do we shut out and exclude and regard as less loved, less blessed, less human than ourselves?
As a pastor, there’s nothing I love more than bringing you words of comfort and healing from Scripture, the Word of God that reassures us that we are completely loved and completely forgiven just as we are. Jesus, the Word of God, came to earth to comfort the afflicted. But he also came to afflict the comfortable.
Today, the Gospel invites us to question ourselves, to question our unspoken assumptions about who’s in and who’s out, who’s us and who’s them. We are invited to become uncomfortable with our own sense of privilege and chosen-ness.
In that spirit, I’m going to lead us through two quick exercises in discomfort.
The first is this: look around the room. Look particularly at the other people in this room with you. Chances are very good that the people sitting around you look like you, meaning you share basically the same ethnic and racial background. If there’s something about you that makes you look different, chances are very good that you didn’t need me to tell you to look around to realize it. You noticed it as soon as you walked in here today, and others probably noticed it too.
The general sameness, though, is not as noticeable unless you’re looking for it. It’s something we take for granted, particularly in church. Sunday morning is the most racially and ethnically segregated time of the week.
There are many reasons for it, historical reasons, linguistic reasons, cultural reasons. I’ve noticed there are lots of Lutheran churches in this area named “First English,” and the meaning that name was meant to convey, back in the day, was, “Welcome! You don’t have to speak Norwegian or German to worship here!”
I’m not saying there aren’t good reasons for it: people who speak the same language, and come from a similar cultural background choose to worship together, and in many ways that makes sense.
But isn’t it also a little too convenient and comfortable for all of us?
Doesn’t it quietly, instinctively, implicitly reinforce our ideas of who “us” is? Who our church family is, the people we think of when we think of our brothers and sisters in the faith?
Part of what makes this so uncomfortable is that there really isn’t an easy way to fix it or solve it. But realizing our unspoken assumptions about who we are, and being uncomfortable with it is a good place to start.
So, the next time you want to remind yourself to not get too comfortable look around the room and notice who’s here and who’s not here. That’s the first exercise in discomfort.
The second exercise in discomfort is this: take your hands and make a cup or a bowl shape out of them. I’ve shared this image with you a few times before, it’s one of my all time favorite ways of thinking about God and how much God loves us.
Imagine again that your hands are God’s hands, and that you are inside God’s loving, protecting hands, and that nothing at all, nothing you do or say, nothing in the world can make you fall out of God’s hands. You are held, you are loved, you are forgiven no matter what.
That’s an incredibly comforting image. But notice what happens here. By creating an image of a safe, comforting space we’ve also created quite an effective barrier. Look at how high those walls are. Sure, it shows us that we can’t fall out, that God won’t let us fall. But doesn’t it also look like other people could be kept out? That the space inside is awfully small and safe and the space outside is quite large and threatening.
How would this image look and feel different if we opened our hands? Open your hands and lay them out flat like this. That maybe gets us a little closer to the expansive inclusivity of God’s love. But it feels a little bit less secure, right?
If there’s no edge, what’s preventing us from dropping off?
If there’s no wall, what’s keeping us safe and warm inside?
Human images for God’s love are always going to be limiting, because we don’t have any perfect way of expressing something so huge and limitless. The idea of God’s limitless love is, in itself, a little intimidating, even uncomfortable for us. There’s this unspoken, implicit, instinctual belief that my place, my chosen-ness, my blessings and love from God might somehow be lessened or threatened if everyone else gets that kind of love, too.
Jesus’ cruel words to the Canaanite mother force us to speak the unspoken, to examine our assumptions and our instincts, and yes, to feel terribly uncomfortable with the limits we’ve put on God’s love. So uncomfortable that we might even start to change our definitions of us and them and live in the confidence that God’s love for me is not threatened by God’s love for you.
Put your hands out, cupped again. Humans build walls all the time, of all kinds, to try to keep ourselves safe. We do it without even realizing it and we live without even knowing those walls are there.
(Flatten hands)
God doesn’t have those walls. God challenges us in all sorts of uncomfortable ways to realize that our walls are not God’s walls and that our walls need to come down. It isn’t a human-made wall that comforts us and keeps us in the love of God. God’s limitless, wall-free mercy and love do that. Not just for the people inside these walls today, but for all people.
Nothing can separate us from the love of God, and the “us” in that statement is much, much bigger than we can imagine. Amen.
Finding God in the Silence
Back row, left to right: Brian, Ashten, Alex; Front row, left to right: Nate, Mrs. Williams, Molly, Danielle, Maggie, Mr. Yanike
On Saturday, August 6, 7 youth and 2 chaperones from Redeemer returned from a Youth Works Mission Trip to South Dakota. The next day, the group presented their experiences in church, leading the children’s message, message and prayers of the people.
This trip was a year in the making, with lots of pre-trip education, organizing and fundraising by parents and youth and support and prayer from the congregation. The five days on site at Rosebud (plus two travel days) were an intense time of learning, questioning, faith exploring and hard work. On Sunday, each youth and chaperone took turns sharing something from the week that touched their hearts. You can hear their stories, along with traditional music they recorded on the reservation, by right clicking on this link: Right click to download the MP3.
Mr. Yanike, one of the chaperones, reflected on how the reading for the day about God coming to Elijah in the sound of silence (1 Kings 19:9-18) was very applicable to their experience on the trip. The youth gave up their phones, ipods, all electronics for a week, and experienced that God was present in their conversations with each other and even in the silence between conversations.
The presentation was heartfelt and moving; the congregation responded with tears, laughter, and a standing ovation. We are proud of the way this group represented Redeemer, we give thanks for the experiences that touched their hearts, and are grateful that they shared those experiences, touching our hearts as well. May this trip continue to bless the Rosebud Reservation, the youth and adults who were honored to serve and learn there, and all who hear the stories from that eventful week. Amen!
