A Random Act of Kindess

It was Saturday, January 12th, and I was on my way to officiate the funeral of one of those beautiful saints of the Greatest Generation, a man named John Brown. Mr. Brown's children had sent me--via fax and email--a bonanza of information to use in preaching the memorial homily. Unfortunately, I had been kept busy with other funerals and parochial business and I hadn't had time to finish writing this eulogy. I decided to stop at the local Dunkin Donuts to put the finishing touches on my tribute to Mr. Brown.

I didn't pay much attention to the woman in line in front of me. Truth be told, I don't think I could pick her out of a police line-up. I ordered a Boston Creme and a small cup of coffee, sat down at a table, and pulled out my funeral notes. I still had an extra twenty minutes to finish the eulogy.

"Excuse me," the woman said. She was standing over my table. "I have a present for you." She handed me a buff envelope about the size of a thank-you note or a party invitation with the words "For You" and the number four written on it. The envelope was sealed, and as I opened it, the woman vanished out the door.

The envelope contained a small note card. When I opened it, a crisp ten dollar bill fell out onto the table.

The message in the envelope read as follows:

"In Memory of Olivia Engel, Age 6

"In memory of the 26 lives lost in the Sandy Hook Elementary tragedy, I'm doing 26 Random Acts of Kindness. You  are the recipient of Random Act #4. Please enjoy this small gift and remember to pay it forward. I hope this brings a smile to your heart."

I am deeply touched and inspired that the horror of Newtown should provoke kindness rather than fear and compassion rather than bitterness. The gift to me was not the ten dollars, but the blessing of hope in the umbra of tragedy.

The greatest weapon of mass destruction is the feeling that we are living in a heartless, hopeless world in which sin and death have the last word. This is not so. I truly bless this anonymous woman and all others who have committed themselves to honoring the victims of violence with acts of love and mercy. Because of this, I will never forget the little girl in whose honor this act was done.

I have decided to donate ten dollars to The Brady Campaign, a non-profit organization dedicated to the elimination of gun violence in America. You can do the same by clicking here: http://www.bradycampaign.org/.

"Lead on, O King eternal, til sin's fierce war shall cease

and holiness shall whisper the sweet amen of peace;

for not with swords loud clashing, nor roll of stirring drums,

but deeds of love and mercy the heavenly kingdom comes."

                                                               From Lead on, O King Eternal

                                                               E. W. Shurtleff (1862- 1917)





Epiphany

 

 

"Where is the child who has been born King of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage." Matthew 2:2

So the three strangers came bearing gifts.

Okay. So it wasn't exactly gold, frankincense, and myrrh. But they did give me a cheeseburger from the Burger King and several Jolly Ranchers. And they weren't exactly men--at least not quite yet. I'd say they were about eleven or twelve years old. Nor would I use the term wise to describe them. But Austen, Ryan, and Joe did come to Faith Lutheran Church searching. And, whether they knew it or not, they had came seeking Jesus.

Why three young lads were hanging out in an urban church parking lot well after darkness had fallen on a winter's night is quite beyond me. Maybe it was just because our parking lot has always been the place for neighborhood kids to hang, smoke cigarettes (or dope), and do whatever it is that kids do when they don't think responsible adults can see them. Maybe they just needed to use the lavatory so they banged on the church door when they saw the light on inside. I don't know. But they've come to visit me a few times now. And they've asked me questions about Jesus and really seem to be listening to my answers.

Again, I have no idea what they are looking for. But I know that God wants them to find Jesus.

*    *    *

This is the beauty of Epiphany--the festival season which celebrates the revelation of Jesus as God's son. The blessings of Christ are open to everyone. From eastern mystic sages to humble shepherds to three pre-teen boys hanging out in a church parking lot.

The central images of this season are the Wise Men and the star. Maybe the Wise Men described in Matthew's gospel were Persian Zoroastrian astrologers--far removed from the people of Bethlehem in language, religion, customs, and geography. They were about as different from Jesus' people as people at that time could get. And yet, they recognized, through the philosophy of their own culture, that Almighty God was in the process of doing something spectacular for humanity. You see, it's not about our own particular dogma or rituals. God speaks in many voices to as many different people as will listen.

I really love the iconography of this season, too. The early Christian Church depicted the Wise Men as an old man with a grey beard, a middle aged man with a black beard, and as a young, beardless fellow. The image was intended to convey the message that Jesus was meant for all generations and for all time. The Magi were also presented as a European, a Middle Easterner, and a black African--proclaiming the unity of all people in Christ.

The other beautiful image of this season is the star--a symbol of navigation for ancient people. A wonderful thing about stars, I think, is that they can't be seen unless we are surrounded by darkness. Sometimes in our darkest moments we are the most open to God's direction.

I often wonder why King Herod doesn't seem to notice this star. Perhaps he never goes out at night. He might be afraid of the darkness. Or he's terrified by the idea that God might be creating change. But the Wise Men, these astute foreigners, brave the darkness to find God's mystery.

There's a message there, I think. The darkness so often surrounds us, but God has provided light in the person of Jesus Christ. And if we're looking for him, whatever our circumstances, we can always find our way.

So what are you looking for?

Happy New Year, my friends.

A Christmas Greeting

 

 

So many Christmas cards display images of the Wise Men who came to worship the Baby Jesus. While I believe this to be beautiful story of Christ's redemptive gift to the entire human family (Matthew 2:1-18), I am aware that it contains within it one of the most horrific tales in the gospels--that of the deranged King Herod who, jealous of any threat to his power, orders the slaughter of defenseless children.

 

"A voice was heard in Ramah, wailing and loud lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children; she refused to be consoled because they are no more." (Matthew 2:18)

 

Today, in the very midst of this most joyful season, stands  the horror of Newtown, Connecticut--and the knowledge that for so many of her citizens, touched by the tragedy of December 14th, there will be no real Christmas this year. I watched on TV last Friday morning as the citizens of that little town stood in mournful silence at 9:30 AM. I saw the drizzling rain come down upon them like tears from heaven, and I knew--as we all know--that no words will ever be adequate enough to match the profundity of sorrow which shrouds that community. Indeed, it is almost blasphemous of me even to attempt to violate the holy silence which must accompany such grief.

 

But yet my own selfish needs dictate that I try to make some sense of this. So I offer the following thoughts:

 

First, I pray that the extent of this tragedy will make us more humble and in touch with the fragility of our nature. May it make us a people more peaceful, more empathetic, and more compassionate.

 

Secondly, the acts of heroic sacrificial love shown by Principal Dawn Hochsprung and the other professional educators who gave their lives protecting the children of Sandy Hook Elementary School is a reminder to Christians of Christ's purpose in being born in human form--to empty himself completely and die out of love for others. On December 14th, we saw such love made real.

 

Finally, the compassion of people of all faiths and the ecumenical spirit which has emerged from this tragedy must remind us that there is only one God, and we are all God's children. May we learn to behave as brothers and sisters of the human family.

 

Yes, my dears, this is a sombre Christmas. But it is still the birth of our Lord. May his love be real in your hearts this year.

 

A blessed Christmas to you all, and thank you so much for your support this past year.

Now THAT'S a Sermon! (Reflections on Advent 3)

I wonder what the reaction would be if I tried to preach a message like the one John the Baptist delivers in Luke 3:7-18, the assigned gospel reading for Advent 3. How would this sound:

"You freaking bunch of snakes!! Who the hell told you you don't deserve the wrath of God that's coming? You think you're better than anyone else? Get up off your butts and start doing the work of God. Don't even pretend to tell me, 'But we're Lutherans. We're saved by grace and not by works.' Crap! God can make Lutherans out of rocks--and sometime I think he did! Start acting like you believe in something!"

Yeah. I don't think that would go over too well in my congregation. Besides, with all the nasty rhetoric from the recent election and the "fiscal cliff" debate still ringing in our ears, it's possible that no one would even pay attention to such harsh words--even if they came from the pulpit.

But I long to hear the prophetic voice of the Baptist. He's sort of the crazy uncle of the Christian faith--the eccentric guy who says the outrageous things. And these things are outrageous because, in our hearts, we all know he's speaking the truth without the candy coating to which we've grown accustomed. I mean, c'mon. Don't YOU just long to hear someone tell it like it is in a simple and direct manner?

And John's message is pretty clear. You want to know how to behave? Don't stockpile wealth when others are going hungry and unprotected. Don't game the system to your advantage. And don't bully others. It doesn't get much more plain than that.

So I'm waiting to hear a loud voice on the national scene say, "You know, I'm all for personal achievement and individual rights, but if those things are more important to us than compassion for the weak then we are NOT a moral nation. I'm all for a strong defense, but if that means backing oppressors because they're our 'friends,' than we are NOT a moral nation. And if we'd rather gear up for war than talk to our enemies, than we are NOT a moral nation."

For myself, personally, I'm all about sound doctrine. But at the end of the day the Church will be judged by what we have done or failed to do. If we take on the name of Christ, than we are called to a higher standard. If our works of charity suffer because we are trying to save the institution, then the institution is not worth saving.

But here's the good news: While we were still in our sins, God gave us Jesus. We've seen in him what complete, selfless, sacrificial love looks like. We've been promised that we would be baptized with the Holy Spirit to inspire, sustain, and grow that love in us. We truly CAN be God's people. And our dearest longing and hope is that we WILL be changed into the people who bear the fruits of repentance.

Here Come the Fig Leaves (Reflections on Advent 1)

"Look at the fig tree and all the trees; as soon as they sprout leaves you know that summer is already near. So, also, when you see these things taking place, you know that the kingdom of God is near." (Luke 21: 29-30)

This is the fifteenth Advent Season I've celebrated as pastor of Faith Lutheran Church in Philadelphia. Certainly, in the last fourteen years, I've seen a lot of things take place: There's been about a 50% turnover in the worshiping congregation. The worship space has been remodeled. A contemporary music liturgy has been added. The congregation has severed its twenty-seven year relationship with a local day school and begun to use the space previously occupied by the school for housing the homeless. Teenagers have actually hung around after they've made their confirmation and become involved in the ministry of the church. Last fall we received into membership our first openly same-gender couple who have quickly become active and well-loved members of our family. And, perhaps most significantly, the average age of our worshipers has dropped considerably. Lots of changes.

But the world is changing, too. In the same time period we've seen the "Global War on Terrorism" and the "Arab Spring." We've begun to use the phrase "Climate Change," and we've started driving hybrid cars. Everyone and their mother now carries a cell phone, and some of these devices--"Smart Phones"--do everything but walk your dog and wash your car. We've seen the rise of "Social Media," and, through facebook or Twitter, no one changes their shorts without broadcasting the event in cyberspace. We've seen a black man in the White House whose not there just to shine the president's shoes. Same-gender marriages are legal in many states, and legalized recreational marijuana has the okay of the voters in Washington and Colorado (I'm sure I'll get an "Amen!" from someone out there over that occurrence!). And just this past week the United Nations has recognized a new state called Palestine (And you just know that some TV evangelist will see that event as a herald of Armageddon!).

Yup. The signs are all there. Stuff is moving and shaking and happening at a more accelerated rate than ever. And what does Jesus tell us?

"Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near." (Luke 21: 28)

That's right. If we're faithful to the Gospels, we believe that every change--however catastrophic it may seem to us-- is an opportunity for God to do God's redemptive work.

Granted, there are very likely some who will look at the whirlwind of change and pray, "God, I don't know what you're doing, but I don't like it and I wish you would stop! Just put everything back the way it was, and we'll get along fine!" (Try praying that prayer and see where it gets you!)

Some of the rest of us might be praying, "God, I don't know what you're doing, but you're not doing it fast enough. How long must we wait? Hurry up, for cryin' out loud!"

The problem with both of these petitions is that they take us out of the realm of religion and into the land of superstition. Superstition is when we try to manipulate God. True religion is when we are open to letting God mold and form us in the spirit of righteousness. We can stare at the fig tree for weeks at a time, but summer will not come one minute sooner than God intends for it to come. Jesus tells us to keep awake for the things of God in the midst of all the change and confusion.

To this end, the Christian Church has for centuries blessed us with the gift of the Advent Season. While all the rest of the U.S. has fast-freighted itself into Christmas (complete with blow-up lawn Santas in the Walmart starting in September), Christians take these four weeks to pause, reflect, and look for what God is up to. And pray for the coming of God's kingdom.

Martin Luther very wisely counseled the disciples of his day in the meaning of the coming Kingdom of God:

"In fact," Luther wrote, "God's kingdom comes on its own without our prayer, but we ask in this prayer that it may also come to us. How does this come about? Whenever our heavenly Father gives us his Holy Spirit, so that through the Holy Spirit's grace we believe God's Holy Word and live godly lives here in time and hereafter in eternity." (The Small Catechism, 1536)

I think it's best, in these changing and confusing times, to remember three things as we watch for the kingdom. First, this is God's world. It's not mine. Second, I am called to journey with Jesus and grow in God's wisdom and grace. I haven't come to the end of the journey yet, and I'm far from being all grown up. Third, in the midst of all things I don't understand and  of which I cannot see the end, I am still called to love God and serve my neighbor.

So I watch the fig leaves sprout. Some of them seem weird and dangerous, and others seem  beautiful and longed-for. But the kingdom is coming, and the Word doesn't pass away.

Enjoy your Advent, Friends. God be with you all!

Signs of the End? (Reflections on Pentecost 25)

I made my first visit to New York City in 1985. My girlfriend at the time wanted to see the Statue of Liberty, but we didn't have time for the harbor ferry. We decided that the best place to see Lady Liberty would be from the observation deck on the top floor of the World Trade Center. I remember my ears popping in the elevator as we rose high above the Manhattan skyline. It was like being in an airplane. I never could imagine on that bright April day, looking out from what was at that time the second tallest building on the planet, the events of September 11, 2001.

Then Jesus asked, "Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down." (Mark 13: 2)

The great temple of Jerusalem must have been the grandest thing these hick disciples from Galilee had ever seen. I'm sure they never could imagine such a magnificent structure--the symbol of their nation's relationship with Almighty God--lying in ruins. The very thought  made their blood run cold.

"Tell us, when will this be, and what will be the sign that all these things are about to be accomplished?" (Mark 13: 4)

But Jesus never gives them the straight skinny. In fact, he even admits that he doesn't know. (v. 32) He does, however, warn them that unpleasant things will be occurring. False rulers, earthquakes, war, and famine. And these are just for starters.

Shit happens.

In fact, it's been happening for a long time.

9/11

A needless war in Iraq and a seemingly endless war in Afghanistan.

2008--the whole US economy goes into the tank.

A nuclear meltdown in Japan.

Civil war in Syria. More war in Gaza. A potentially nuclear-armed Iran.

Earthquake in Haiti.

Hurricane Katrina. Hurricane Irene. Hurricane Sandy. Climate change. Rising oceans.

People actually watching Jersey Shore and The Bachelor (Certain signs of the decay of civilization!)

So what do we do? Build a bomb shelter? Head for the hills with supplies and ammunition? Wait for the Rapture?

Here's what I'm thinking: If Jesus doesn't know, then I'm not going to worry about it. I'm going to decide that my life will not be about the things that happen, but rather about how I choose to embrace them. I believe in a Lord who was both crucified and resurrected. I will look to the God of creation who holds the entire cosmos in his hands, and I will not despair. I will not surrender to fear or selfishness. As Jesus could speak words of love, hope, and forgiveness even from the agony of the cross, I will try--to the best of my puny ability--to imitate him in my circumstances. Yes, troubles will come, but he promises that these are the beginnings of the birth pangs. That is, when the pain is over, something new will be here--and it will be wonderful.

Stones crumble. The Word of God endures forever.

For All the Saints After Hurricane Sandy

"Jesus began to weep."
                                  (John 11:35)

"Then the Lord God will wipe away the tears from all faces, and the disgrace of his people he will take away from all the earth, for the Lord has spoken."
                                (Isaiah 25:8)

The following is from my journal dated November 2, 2012, The Feast of All Souls:

"Back at the bakery this morning after the wrath of Hurricane Sandy. It's hard for me to wrap my mind around this catastrophe as my wife and I escaped the hurricane unscathed and virtually without even notice--even though the eye of the horrible thing passed almost directly over our home! Yet, as I sit here swinishly enjoying my hazelnut coffee and cinnamon roll, thousands--no, HUNDREDS of thousands--are without electrical power or heat. Homes and neighborhoods are turning into soggy, putrid composts of detritus, scatter, and filth. Piles of decaying crap awash in bacteria were once peoples' homes. This bitch has cost over 80 human lives and counting, flooded lower Manhattan, and put Long Beach Island under water. There is nothing left on parts of the Jersey shore but sand, destruction, and emotional pain.

"Granted, not being from this part of the world myself, I have no blissful memories of summer at the Jersey shore. Nevertheless, my heart still goes to those who will miss their favorite amusement pier, boardwalk, Doo-Wop motel, ice cream parlor, shore house, or bed and breakfast. I have officiated literally hundreds of funerals during my tenure as pastor in Northeast Philly, and just about every family has some memory of their departed loved one which is connected to 'down duh shore.' It feels as if a chunk of our collective soul has been ripped out.

"And yet, here I sit: high, dry, and well fed. How did I get so lucky as to be spared from the evil force of this tempest? To be honest, Marilyn and I weren't so sure how we'd fare. The storm began Sunday night, and we watched its dreadful progress on CNN and The Weather Channel. We'd stocked up on gasoline, withdrew cash, bought food and water, and I brought my portable battery in from the car, prepared for the loss of electric power. The governor declared a state of emergency and a ban on travel, effectively locking us indoors to secure us from the 80 mile-per-hour winds and gushing rain. By Monday night, the wind from the 1,000 mile wide monster was screaming against our east-facing windows.

"Now, I have lived through the Barneveld, WI tornado of '83, the L.A. riots of '92, and the Northridge earthquake of '94, so I can sleep through just about anything. Marilyn, on the other hand, lay awake and anxious most of the night.

"In the morning, our little part of New Jersey was still outside our window. No trees down. No flooding as we are near no bodies of water. The LED digital clock on the stove said the power was still on. A call from my secretary assured me that Faith Lutheran Church had come through the night like a breathless champion. Power stayed on. The pump pumped. The basement didn't flood. The steeple--newly reinforced after Hurricane Irene--was still standing at attention, announcing to the citizens of the Millbrook neighborhood the loving sacrifice of Jesus Christ. The dead tree did not topple. We had dodged the bullet.

"I finish my coffee, and prepare for my morning's chore--taking the dog to the groomers. How strange it seems that, within a few hours drive from where I am, lives are in wreckage."

+     +     +     +

How do we mourn? Collectively, I would hope. Remembering that even Jesus wept.

We put our arms around each other and share our grief, so that the isolating shame of our pain will somehow be expunged by our honest, heroic sharing, our mutual empathy, and our compassion. And somewhere, in the love that unites us through our pain, we remember the promises of God.

And so we hope.

God be with you, my friends. Please pray for all of the victims of Hurricane Sandy, and do what you can to come to their aid.