Take A Walk on the Wild Side

Second Sunday After Pentecost A
Genesis 22:1-18

After these things God tested Abraham. He said to him, ‘Abraham!’ And he said, ‘Here I am.’ 2He said, ‘Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt-offering on one of the mountains that I shall show you.’
-Genesis 22:1-2

Take your son. Your only son, Issac. Whom. You. Love.

When I was younger, I remember hearing this story and being told this was a percursor to what would happen later in the New Testament where Christ as God's son became the sacrifice that set us free.

These days, I tend to focus on the whole concept of Abraham taking his son to be the sacrifice. It's something that makes you uncomfortable. To a modern reader like myself, it just seems wrong for Abe to even think that God would even request such a horrible thing. There is a temptation to just ignore this passage, frame it was one of those terrible "texts of terror" and just move on to a more pleasant text.

But the thing is, as unsettling as this story is, there is something here for us to learn about faith and about walking in faith.

The thing that is amazing (and disturbing) is that Abraham had faith in God.  He does what he has always done when God calls- respond.  He sets out to the place God tells him to go to with Issac.  He continues to believe God will provide and is ready and willing to raise the knife to slaughter his own son because he had faith in God.

Rick Morely tries to show how faith isn't as neat and tidy as we would like it to be- indeed, sometimes it can seem quite bizarre:

This story raises so many questions. Big questions. Questions about the kind of God that would ask this. About the kind of father who would hear this Voice in his head and follow it.

If this happened today Abraham would be arrested.

I think the ugly, tortured nature of this story was meant to be. I also think that there aren't any good answers to the hard questions that this story raises.

Because while this is an ugly story, it's really not about the ugliness. It's about the faith of Abraham who was willing to do whatever God asked him to to. For him there was no limit. And, it's about the faithfulness of God who ultimately provides, and which turns a tragic story a little less tragic.

The Akedah is one of those chapters of the Bible which reminds us all too well that we don't have a neat and tidy little religion that is country-club respectable in all ways at all times. 

Faith in God is always an odd thing.  I don't think it will lead these days to attempted murder, but it might lead us to places we never expected to be and doing things we never dreamed of doing.  This passage reminds us that the God we serve is not a safe God.  We follow a loving God and a good God, but never a safe God.

We also have to remember that faith is not simply following certain beliefs, but instead about trust.  We place our trust in God and that trust is lived out in our daily lives.  Rabbi David Ackerman sums this up nicely:

In Jewish culture, Avraham Avinu is the original "walking man." Two words bespeak this central motif of Abraham's life. Lekh l'kha, "Go forth," (or as I prefer, "Go take a hike," which I'll explain in a moment) is of course the divine command that begins Abraham's saga. The same phrase recurs in Parashat Va-yera as part of the demand that Abraham offer up his son Isaac as a sacrifice. Between those two imperatives to go take a hike, Abraham spends a lot of time on the road. Momentously, he leaves his homeland and his father's house in search of a new, and not precisely identified, land. He migrates to Egypt in response to a famine and returns only to take to the battlefield, just one of a series of adventures that keep him continually away from home. Abraham's peripatetic nature gives rise to a great deal of commentary down through the centuries, some favorable, some not...

Aviva Zornberg brilliantly describes Abraham's journeying as suggestive of "the full paradox of a vital quest, enacted in empirical randomness." He may not know exactly where he is headed, but he understands full well why he's headed there. And in this regard, Abraham is all of us; our lives in so many ways follow the same trajectory of purposeful, personal journeys, undertaken in unreliable circumstances, in search of uncertain results. And yet, we continue to walk...

Heschel's famous claim that marching for civil rights in Selma constituted "praying with his feet" is the direct descendent of this Hasidic ideal. We walk in search of opportunities to serve God, to improve the world, and thereby to worship.

I do think when we are called by God we are called to take a walk on the wild side, to quote Lou Reed.  It is a journey that doesn't always make sense, but it is a journey where we will meet God and be changed.  It won't be all tied up with a bow on top, but it will provide in ways we can't imagine.  We have faith in God and God has faith in us.

I don't have an easy suggestion for you all for the coming Sunday.  This passage wasn't made for that.  But I do ask that you look at the text a few times and ask your congregations to struggle with this passage.  Remind them that trusting God isn't easy or simple.  But also let them know this walk with God will not be boring.

Go and be church.

Illustration: Sacrifice of Isaac by Marc Chagall. Musee Nationaux Alpes-Maritimes (Nice).

Dennis Sanders is the Associate Pastor at First Christian Church in Minneapolis.

Go.

Trinity Sunday A
Matthew 28:16-20

The last few verses of the book of Matthew, which is commonly called The Great Commission, is a passage I am very familiar with. I remember it from my youth. The thrust of the passage back them was pretty simple. Go share the gospel with others. I remember learning ways you could help your friends and neighbors become Christians, methods like the Four Spiritual laws. I know back then I wanted to evangelize and tell others about the good news of Christ. But I also felt a bit odd about it. I didn't feel comfortable doing it. I knew it was important, but I just didn't know how to say the words to another person.

As I grew into adulthood and away from my evangelical upbringing, I struggled with this passage. What did it mean to me now? Did it mean trying to tell someone the "Romans Road" to salvation, or did it mean something else? Should we just ignore the text?

For some reason, I couldn't ignore the text. It was there staring at me.

This Sunday, many pastors might be tempted to just skip this passage. Mainline Protestants don't feel as comfortable about sharing their faith in the way that evangelicals do and this passage is a reminder of all that they might not be comfortable with. That, and some remind us of a more darker interpretation- the abuse of this passage to conquer other peoples. Michael Danner sums up all that makes people feel very queasy about The Great Commission:

...what reference point do we use when we define those words? Do we let the life and teaching of Jesus inform what it means to “go” and “make”? Or do we let something or someone else define what it means to “go” and “make”? This makes a huge difference.

If we let Jesus inform what it means to “go” and “make” it leads to humble service, drenched in love and grace, that seeks restoration and freedom for any and all that we encounter. It leads to story telling and wine sharing and bread eating. It leads to healing and hope.

Other kinds of “going” and “making” are markedly different. Some people “go” and “make” in ways that are manipulative, coercive or, even, violent. Others “go” and “make” in ways that seek to replicate their own beliefs in others. Still others “go” and “make” using fear, anger, guilt and shame. And, still others go and make in ways that make themselves feet better but, in reality, they do little to engage hurting people in a hurtful world.

I can't deny that a lot of bad things have been done in God's name. Cross has sometimes followed Flag in the taking of other lands and the subjegation of other peoples.

But just because others have really, really botched the understanding of the passage doesn't mean we should just ignore these words. In Matthew's version of the story of Jesus, these are the last words that Jesus says to his disciples. It's a farewell to his friends, and final words like that carry some weight.

The word "go" keeps buzzing around in my head. Jesus says to go and make disciples. Matthew was clear how that was to be done, which is what frustrates Danner. Some have used force to try to spread the faith, but I don't think this is what Jesus had in mind.

When I think about going and making disciples, I think of my friend Jim. Jim is my age and like me, is gay. For a long time, he stayed away from church because he didn't feel that a community would accept him for who he was. We met when I was attempting to plant a church. He was able to find a place where he could commune with God and others. I can't remember doing anything special other than being who I was in my faith. But Jim has told me that something did happen. He was able to see Jesus in the hospitality shown by myself and others in our small community.

Maybe this is what is meant by "go." Go and live our lives, lives filled with grace and a living witness of Jesus Christ.

As communities gather this Sunday, let's learn what it means to share our faith. I don't think it's about Spiritual Laws or Roman Roads, but I do think it is about sharing our lives with others, sharing enough that they can see Jesus.

Go and be church.

Dennis Sanders is the Associate Pastor at First Christian Church in Minneapolis.

Pentecost Is A Question

Pentecost A
Numbers 11:24-30
Acts 2:1-21

When I first started serving at First Christian, there was no children's ministry at all.  None.  Over the years of dealing with declining membership, a large physical plant to maintain and a host of other issues taking care of the little ones came last.

That didn't set well with one of the members.  She has always loved being with children and was mad that nothing was going on.  As she recounts the story, she was complaining to me about why no one was doing anything about this and I responded, "So what are you going to do about it?"

It was after my moment of frankness that she started a children's program at the congregation, which in many cases was instrumental in helping the church revive itself.

Coming into Pentecost, I looked forward to this Sunday with both excitement and boredom. I love Pentecost because its such a joyous holiday, a time when pastors and worship leaders get to do something a bit different. I love that we get to wear red and usually the sanctuary is festooned with bright shades of red.

On the other hand, we tend to hear the same Pentecost text over and over again. At first blush, I wanted to just skip this text. It's been so overdone. David Lose kind of captures the "boredom" of the text:

Honestly, I suspect that we've heard the story of the wind and the tongues-of-flame and the dove and the crowds-hearing-the-sermon-in-their-own-languages just enough to believe that the promise of Pentecost is deliverance, celebration, victory, and strength. The signs of Pentecost, after all, are mighty. And what is the Holy Spirit if it is not God's own agent – the very Spirit of the resurrected Jesus – now on earth to accompany us with signs of wonder and power.

However, as the week progressed, this text kept coming back to me. I can't really describe why I am attracted to this text, again, but I am.

I think some of the points to consider as we re-read this text again is how disruptive the Spirit is. I don't think we realize just how much the Spirit turns the lives of the disciples of Jesus upside down. Look at what Peter starts talking about in this passage:

“In the last days it will be, God declares,
that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh,
and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy,
and your young men shall see visions,
and your old men shall dream dreams.
18 Even upon my slaves, both men and women,
in those days I will pour out my Spirit;
and they shall prophesy.
19 And I will show portents in the heaven above
and signs on the earth below,
blood, and fire, and smoky mist.
20 The sun shall be turned to darkness
and the moon to blood,
before the coming of the Lord’s great and glorious day.
21 Then everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved.”

None of this sounds safe, does it?

Looking at the text from Numbers, we see that the Spirit touches some people who weren't authorized to be prophets. Joshua thinks something needs to be done to stop these people who were not accredited from prophesying. But Moses tells Josh to put a sock in it. "Would that all the Lord’s people were prophets, and that the Lord would put his spirit on them!” he says.

Pentecost is in many ways a question.  We are asked to look back to see all the mighty deeds that God has done for God's people, to see how Jesus showed us God's love in his life, death and resurrection and to see the Holy Spirit descend in wind and flame.  We are asked to see all of this and ask, "So what are you going to do about it?"


As we worship in our churches this weekend, as preachers prepare to preach yet another sermon on the Acts text, we might want to ask our congregations the same question.  "So, what are you going to do about it?"

The "so what" for the disciples was that they started telling the story of Jesus all over the known world.  They didn't go back to their old lives, but forged ahead, being empowered and led by the Spirit to some new territory.

The wind, fire and the speaking of different languages is a pointed question to us.  What does all of this mean to you?  Does it affect you?  Does it change your life?

David Lose references one of my favorite political columnists, David Brooks, who wrote a worthwhile essay recently to today's college grads.  He told them to give up the recent obsession in our society to focus on the self, and to live for others:

Most successful young people don’t look inside and then plan a life. They look outside and find a problem, which summons their life. A relative suffers from Alzheimer’s and a young woman feels called to help cure that disease. A young man works under a miserable boss and must develop management skills so his department can function. Another young woman finds herself confronted by an opportunity she never thought of in a job category she never imagined. This wasn’t in her plans, but this is where she can make her contribution.

Most people don’t form a self and then lead a life. They are called by a problem, and the self is constructed gradually by their calling.

As Christians our lives are shaped by a calling; a calling from God, exemplified by Jesus and sent by the Holy Spirit. It is when we serve others, teaching children about God or befriending a person battling addiction that is when we begin to answer the question that is Pentecost, it when we do something about life in response to all the amazing acts God has done for us. For all of us.

So, what are you going to do about it?

Go and be church.

Dennis Sanders is the Associate Pastor at First Christian Church in Minneapolis.

We Are the World

Sixth Sunday of Easter A
John 14:15-21

15”If you love me, you will keep my commandments. 16And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever. 17This is the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees him nor knows him. You know him, because he abides with you, and he will be in you.

When you read this passage, it's easy to think that Jesus is talking about those special people in his life. Jesus is talking to his disciples, continuing this long farewell speech that started in John 13. In this passage, he tells the disciples that they will recieve the Spirit, something the world can't recieve because they don't know Jesus.

It's easy to hear this passage and think not just think Jesus is speaking to his disciples, but that he is speaking to us, the present-day disciples who want to follow Jesus. It's also easy to think that we have some special knowledge that the rest of the world doesn't have. We have access to the Spirit, something the rest of those poor suckers don't have.

Only, the disciples didn't quite get it, did they? Peter denied Jesus, Judas betrayed him and the rest basically took off at the very moment Jesus needed them. Even as Jesus is speaking to them about being given the Spirit, they were like the rest of the world in not knowing who Jesus was.

What should dawn on us is that the disciples, both then and now are also part of the world, the world that denies and ignores Jesus. We are the world.

This passage reveals that those who profess to follow Jesus can be just as blind as everyone else. It reminds us that we are as the old saying goes, simply "sinners by grace."

As we stand in our pulpits or sit in the pews this Sunday, we should remember that we don't always "get Jesus." Like the disciples of old, we can be see Jesus right in front of us and yet not see Jesus- choosing to live as if God didn't exist.

But while that is part of the message here this week, thank God it isn't the whole message. Jesus starts this passage by saying that if we love him we will keep his commandments. It all goes back to relationship. We place our trust in Jesus. We love Jesus and we show our love by keeping his commandments- even though we will mess up.

Maybe it's not accidental that we have this text on Memorial Day weekend, a time when we remember those who gave their lives serving their country. These folks showed their love of country by serving and giving the ultimate sacrifice. The servicemen and women who died serving showed fidelity- an ongoing relationship with their nation. Likewise, we are called to fidelity with Christ, an ongoing relationship where we show our love in keeping his commandments- loving our neighbor, welcoming the outcast and loving even the enemy. We do this as imperfect disciples who sometimes don't understand Jesus, but still going on serving in Jesus name.

Go and be church.

Dennis Sanders is the Associate Pastor at First Christian Church in Minneapolis.

For You, But Not About You

Fifth Sunday of Easter A
John 14:1-14

The gospel for this coming Sunday is not the easiest to understand. This part of Christ's farewell discourse, which spans four chapters in John; chapters 13 through 17. In chapter 14 he talks about mansions and being the way. None of it makes a lot of sense to his disciples. The first three verses are truly opaque but at the same time familiar:

“Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me. 2In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? 3And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also.

The verses are used a lot during funerals. They sense a future hope, a sense that God in Christ is creating a place for us- heaven. Could this passage give us some comfort, that no matter how hard life might be, we have this dream of being with God in every sense imaginable?

But as Rick Morley notes this passage can bother folks because it seems too much about us:

I have to say though, that this is not one of the passages of Jesus' teachings that speaks readily to me. Not because I'm uncomfortable with Jesus' sentiments here, but because I'm uncomfortable with the all-too-typical-take on them.

 I get uncomfortable with any version of our faith which turns Christianity into something that's all about us. There are far too many teachings on Jesus, salvation, and Heaven, which remake Christianity into a narcissistic cult. And that's the very opposite of the kind of faith that Jesus presents and compels us to follow.

The faith, as Jesus taught it, is all about us loving God and our neighbor. It's an outwardly focused faith, which pushes us to look around and find people to love, and a God to adore.

If we stopped at the first three verses, I would totally agree with Rick. But there is much more to this passage. Yes, we are promised a future with God, but there is work to do now. Look at verse twelve:

12Very truly, I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these, because I am going to the Father.

The one who believes...a moment here. What does the word "believe" mean. Well, you should know that it doesn't mean following certain dogma. No, the greek word for "believe" is pistis, which is also the word for faith and trust. So, the one who places their trust, their faith in Jesus will also do what Jesus did, preach the Word of God, heal the sick and feed the hungry. Chapter 14 is for you and for me, but it surely is NOT about us. We are assured to be with God now and in the future, but we are also called to do God's work in the world. Tripp Hudgins has some great thoughts about how this passage, this talk of mansions is a now and not yet kind of deal:

when we read Revelation and take Jesus’ worldly ministry seriously, I see that the Kingdom of God is here, now, with us, always lighting the way to God. It’s not some netherworld that we cannot reach without magical map making from the Messiah. Jesus is the map. His life, his very fleshy and challenging life is the way to the dwelling that we each have in God’s house, in this City of God.

House. City. Land. Kingdom. No matter what the metaphor, we know it’s a place, a recognizable place. The trouble is that our relationships with these places are often so polluted that, like Thomas, we cannot even begin to imagine that God’s dwelling might actually be a house, a city, a land, or a kingdom. And most of us cannot imagine that there’s room for everyone.

The thing is, Jesus is the dwelling place, Jesus is our home and in Jesus there is room enough for everyone.

Thanks be to God.

Dennis Sanders is the Associate Pastor at First Christian Church in Minneapolis.

Mythbusters

First Sunday of Easter A
John 20:19-31

As I was preparing for a Lectionary Study this week, I came across the web Bible Study called Faith Lens, published by the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America.  The study started off talking about a television show that I enjoy viewing called Mythbusters.  Here's how contributor Bill King describes the show:

Nominated for an Emmy and hosted by the jauntily bereted Jamie Hyneman and “stuff maker” Adam Savage, Mythbusters scientifically tests urban myths, outrageous propositions, and conventional wisdom.  The show has a particular fondness for myths which involve explosions, making a mess, or disgusting materials (they made a candle out of ear wax).  Some have called it “the best science show on television,” and few would dispute that it is the zaniest.  The show sometimes does silly things, like constructing a lead balloon, just to see if it can be done.  But beneath the laughter is a serious purpose, to illustrate how science separates fact from fiction.

What's so cool about the show is how Jamie and Adam try to test out urban myths.  Sometimes they are able to "bust" the myth and show that it's not true.  Other times they are able to verify that the myth is true, and still other times it's plausible.

When you read this week's gospel in John about good ole "Doubting Thomas" you might think about how Tom wanted proof of Jesus' existence.  There will be talk about how doubt is important in the life of faith and we will try to hold him up as a modern hero who didn't just want to believe something because someone told him.

These are all good things to note in the text, but what if there's something more here that we aren't seeing.  What if this text is not just about doubt and faith, not just about the Risen Savior, but also a message for the church,  the body of Christ?

In his lectionary reflection this week, Russell Rathburn expresses his interest in the actual body of Christ:

After crashing through all that at break neck speed, John slows it down to spend the majority of this verses focusing on his Body. Thomas says he wants to see the Body, see the wounds. Jesus arrives and very graphically shows him the wounds, and in a very intimate gesture, invites him to place his finger/hand inside them. There can be no doubt that this is the Body of Jesus the Christ, very man, very God.

That Jesus literally, physically rose from the dead is the foundation of the Christian faith. This Sunday’s reading starts and ends with it, giving just a verse each to the Great Commission, Pentecost, the rest is all about the Body. After so much emphasis on the Body of Jesus through the Lent and Easter seasons, how do we preach with out one? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe? There really are not any other options are there?

The question that hits me here is Russell's talk about the body of Christ when there isn't a body anymore.

But what if there is a body?  What if Christ's ressurection wasn't only about the physical resurrection, but also about how the ressurection lives in the life of the gathered community, the Church?

Thomas wanted to experience Jesus for himself.  He did not want to rely on the experience of others.  Belief for Thomas was not about accepting creedal statements, but about a relationship and if he couldn't experience a body, then what's the point?

Now for a moment, think about the body of Christ as the church, because in the here and now that's what modern Thomases are looking at when they want to see Jesus.  They aren't looking to just accept a doctrinal statement, but they are looking to commune with the Body of Christ.  In this present age, there isn't a physical body to talk about, but Christ is found in the Church, the folks who believe in Christ and abide with him.

Maybe, just maybe, if the church can live as a community called, gathered and sent by God to preach the good news, then our modern Thomas will see Christ.  Maybe if we live as a community of forgiven sinners, then our modern Thomas will see Christ.  Maybe if we welcome all to the doors of our churches, then our modern Thomas will see Christ.

As you prepare to preach or teach this Sunday after the Ressurection, think about what it means to be the Body of Christ in our world.  How do we witness to the Living and Risen Christ?

Go and be church.

Dennis Sanders is the Associate Pastor at First Christian Church in Minneapolis.

Cruise Control

Easter Sunday A
Matthew 28:1-10

I have to believe that one of the most beautiful inventions has to be cruise control in cars.  There's something kinda cool about pressing a button and having the car basically drive itself during long trips.  All I have to do is sit back, relax and the car drive itself.

Okay, I don't just let the car drive itself.  I do have to keep my eyes on the road.  Cruise control doesn't mean I get to excuse myself from driving- I still have to be alert and ready for any changes on the highway.

Easter can be both a blessing and a curse.  It's a blessing of course because Jesus defeated the powers of death and arose on that Sunday morning long ago.  But it's also a curse, because it comes at the end of a long week and we are just plumb tired.

But maybe what really makes Easter a curse is that we've done it so many times.  We sing the same songs and preach the same sermons year after year.  I don't know about others, but there have been moments when I feel that this has all be done before.  Ressurrection is so first century.

It's easy to go on cruise control when it comes to Easter.  But I wonder if doing that means we miss what might be going on in the story.  I wonder if we miss how this old story is not so old in reality.  Maybe in reading this story again, we will see where new life is springing up in our own lives.

The gospel text today has a lot going on, but I want to focus on one group of characters: the women.  If you want an example of what it means to live without hope, it has to be the two Marys.  These women had a close relationship with Jesus and believed that this guy was special.  Then he ends up getting killed.  They come to the tomb on Sunday morning without any hope.  Another idealist is killed.  Cynicism wins again.

I think back to my time in Clinical Pastoral Education.  I remember meeting a young man who lost one leg in an accident.  I would spend time in his room where he would say very little to me.  His face was one not simply of sadness, but one of profound grief.  He was only 21.  He had a future ahead of him.  But the future was now more cloudy and his face told me had little hope.

That is what these women felt.  There are times in our lives when we feel that there is no hope that things will change.  No hope that someone will get better; no hope that you will get that job; no hope that a loved one will quit drinking.

And then, there's an earthquake, and an angel appears saying that Jesus is no longer at the tomb but alive.  I have to believe the Marys thought it was a joke.  But if they thought that, they didn't think it for very long.  Matthew says the left with fear and great joy.  As they run to tell their friends the good news, they meet Jesus, alive and well.  Where there was no hope, there was now hope. 

The message of Easter is one of hope, but it starts in a place where there is no hope.  It starts in the way things are in the world.  If someone is dead, they kinda stay dead.

But hope has a different agenda.  It can bring life where there was no life and healing where there was sickness.  It reminds us that God is there with us, even when we feel abandoned.  Hope is there even when everything is tell us that there is no hope.

As you go to your faith communities this Sunday, please don't operate on cruise control.  Read the Easter story again and think about the two Marys.  Think about the disciples or the guards.  Read the story again and pay attention.  Think about hopelessness. Think about helplessness.  Think about love. Think about hope.  Think about it all and believe the good news that Jesus is alive and well.

Christ is Risen!

Dennis Sanders is the Associate Pastor at First Christian Church in Minneapolis.