The next day John again was standing with two of his disciples, and as he watched Jesus walk by, he exclaimed, “Look, here is the Lamb of God!”  John 1:35-36

When we learn about Jesus’ baptism in the Gospel of John, we don’t see the crowd, the water, the Spirit of God descending like a dove. We don’t hear the voice of God declaring: “this is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.” In this version of the story, all we have to go on is the testimony of John the Baptist.

You may remember John the Baptist, the prophet with a fiery tongue who we meet in our Advent texts. But here John shows his softer side. In this text, he’s in awe. Here John testifies that Jesus is the Son of God; the whole reason for his calling as a baptizer. He tells his followers, “Look! Here is the Lamb of God!”

John’s testimony is so powerful that two of his disciples take off after Jesus instead. Surprised, Jesus asks them, “What are you looking for?” as if they might be looking for the bathroom, or the way to the closest sandal repair shop. But they say, “Rabbi, teacher, where are you staying?” Jesus replies, “Come and see.” In the other stories of the disciples, it is Jesus’ words or actions, or his invitation, that cause people to follow him. But in this case, it is simply the testimony of John.

This weekend we celebrated the life and legacy of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.. He was a great man, a man of faith and wisdom and courage. In 39 short years he changed our country, helping us to imagine a different future for ourselves and move towards it with dignity. He spoke and organized with passion, becoming a leader in the civil rights movement and then a powerful voice drawing attention to issues of poverty and war.

Because he is such a hero in our nation, I think there has been a temptation to cast him in the role of Jesus, a flawless savior. We want him to be perfect, to have all the answers. All these years after his death, we can sweep his humanity under the rug, and even forget that he was controversial. But for all his great gifts, Martin Luther King was not flawless. At his best, this very human preacher was much more similar to John the Baptist than Jesus.

Through his upbringing in the church, and the influence of Christian writers and leaders, Martin Luther King, Jr. came to recognize a profound truth in Jesus’ teachings. And he spent his life drawing attention to those teachings. He spent his life testifying to what he had seen, and heard, and felt:

So I want to turn your attention to this subject: “Loving Your Enemies.” … In the fifth chapter of the gospel as recorded by Saint Matthew, we read these very arresting words flowing from the lips of our Lord and Master: “Ye have heard that it has been said, ‘Thou shall love thy neighbor, and hate thine enemy.’ But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them that despitefully use you; that ye may be the children of your Father which is in heaven.”

…Now let me hasten to say that Jesus was very serious when he gave this command; he wasn’t playing. He realized that it’s hard to love your enemies. He realized that it’s difficult to love those persons who seek to defeat you, those persons who say evil things about you. He realized that it was painfully hard, pressingly hard. But he wasn’t playing. And we cannot dismiss this passage as just … a sort of exaggeration to get over the point. This is a basic philosophy of all that we hear coming from the lips of our Master. Because Jesus wasn’t playing; because he was serious. We have the Christian and moral responsibility to seek to discover the meaning of these words, and to discover how we can live out this command, and why we should live by this command.

And this is what Jesus means, I think, in this very passage when he says, “Love your enemy.” And it’s significant that he does not say, “Like your enemy…. There are a lot of people that I find it difficult to like. … But Jesus says love them. And love is greater than like. Love is understanding, redemptive goodwill for all men, so that you love everybody, because God loves them. You refuse to do anything that will defeat an individual, because you have agape in your soul. …. This is what Jesus means when he says, “Love your enemy.” This is the way to do it. When the opportunity presents itself when you can defeat your enemy, you must not do it.

So this morning, as I look into your eyes, and into the eyes of all of my brothers in Alabama and all over America and over the world, I say to you, “I love you. I would rather die than hate you.” And I’m foolish enough to believe that through the power of this love somewhere, men of the most recalcitrant bent will be transformed. And then we will be in God’s kingdom. We will be able to matriculate into the university of eternal life because we had the power to love our enemies, to bless those persons that cursed us, to even decide to be good to those persons who hated us, and we even prayed for those persons who despitefully used us.

Oh God, help us in our lives and in all of our attitudes, to work out this controlling force of love, this controlling power that can solve every problem that we confront in all areas. Oh, we talk about politics; we talk about the problems facing our atomic civilization. Grant that all men will come together and discover that as we solve the crisis and solve these problems—the international problems, the problems of atomic energy, the problems of nuclear energy, and yes, even the race problem—let us join together in a great fellowship of love and bow down at the feet of Jesus. Give us this strong determination. In the name and spirit of this Christ, we pray. Amen.

Martin Luther King pointed the way towards Jesus, who, in turn, points us towards the very heart and mystery of God. As we remember him this week, perhaps we can be encouraged to ask, not “What would Jesus do?” – but, “What would Martin do? What would John the Baptist do? And who around us do we see who is a prophet for this time and place – pointing the way to Jesus?”

Some of us are gifted with experiences in which God comes very close. But most of us, most of the time, need to rely on the help of others – great prophets, friends, neighbors – to tell us to “look!” Look at the presence of God, and what God is doing in the world. Only then, when we’re pointed in the right direction, can we hear God saying, “Come and see.”

God, thank you for all your prophets: famous, infamous, and unknown, who say, “Look!” when they see you passing by. Amen.

Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him. 
Matthew 3:13

For over two thousand years, people from all over the world have come to be baptized. And where do we come? We come to fonts and pools, to lakes and rivers and oceans. We come to water, just as Jesus came to the river Jordan. We come to be sprinkled, and splashed, and dunked.  But why? Why do we need to get wet, for this sacrament of the church?

Imagine, if you can, what access to water meant for people in the ancient near east: communication; trade; agriculture; livestock; and something to drink at the end of a hot, dry day. Water meant survival in that desert land. Water meant life.

So perhaps it is not surprising that we find water everywhere in our sacred scriptures. At the beginning of creation, the Spirit of God broods over the face of the waters. In the Garden of Eden, a river flows. Water destroys and renews the earth in the story of Noah. The baby Moses is discovered among the reeds in a river, and leads his people across a parted sea into the wilderness, where they receive water from a rock. The psalmist tells us that God, our shepherd, will lead us besides still waters. The prophet Isaiah proclaims that we will draw water from the wells of salvation.

We do not live in the ancient near east. Our relationship with water has changed.  Most of us have access to water through faucets conveniently located throughout our homes. We even have automatic systems to warm our water before it pours out on us from a shower head. But sadly, that water that seems so accessible, even disposable, today, is only more precious than it was two thousand years ago. Due to population and pollution and climate change, drinkable water is becoming a luxury commodity that corporations are eager to buy up, and nations are prepared to go to war over. More than one in six people around the world have trouble finding clean water to drink.

Why do we get wet, when we come to be baptized?  Water reminds us that we are a part of God’s creation, which She calls good.  Water reminds us of God’s saving power, flowing forth even in times of desolation.  Water offers us physical and spiritual renewal, a return to our true identity as children of God.  Water reminds us of our sacred responsibility to the communities and creation we are a part of.

So when we welcome someone into the family of Jesus, and call upon the Holy Spirit, we use water. Like the bread and cup of communion, this water helps us to experience a God who is both intimately present, and awesomely far away.

Lord, pour out your Holy Spirit now and renew us. Satisfy all our thirst with your living water. Amen.

Mary, the mother of Jesus, is many things to many people. She causes conflict amongst Christians, who debate whether she is a magnificent bearer of God, or a simple human woman. She causes conflict amongst feminists, who debate whether she limits a woman’s role to motherhood, or whether her presence in an often patriarchal tradition is something to celebrate. Despite her outrageous popularity, Mary is controversial. But that controversy rarely focuses on the two truly scandalous things about her. First: Mary was an unwed teenager who became pregnant with God. More about that on Christmas. And, secondly: during her pregnancy, Mary opened her mouth, and said this:

My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
who has looked with favor on the lowliness of her servant.
Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed;
for the Mighty One has done great things for me; and holy is his name.
God’s mercy is for those who fear her from generation to generation;
She has shown strength with her arm
and has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.
God has pulled down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly;
He has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich empty away.
God has helped her servant Israel, in remembrance of her mercy,
According to the promise she made to our ancestors,
to Abraham his descendants forever.

Whatever else Mary is or is not, Mary is a prophet. Only a prophet can speak words of such powerful promise that they cause both fear and hope. These words in the Gospel of Luke point us away from any mixed feelings we may have about Mary; away from the commercial madness around us; away from the sentimentality that sometimes wraps itself around the manger scene. Like any true prophet, Mary turns our attention to God, and what God is doing among us this season: magnifying Godself in humankind; relieving the suffering of the poor; and granting mercy to God’s people.

Her message has been captured with modern images in this video from the Salt Project:

May Mary’s prophetic words be a blessing to you this season.

Emmanuel, we thank you for the words of your prophet, Mary. We long for you to be magnified, also, in us. Help us to say yes to you. Help us to praise you. Help us to bear your word into this world. May your strange, earth-shaking love bloom in us.  Amen.

Image credit: Collage of holiday advertisements made by House of All Sinners and Saints, a Lutheran congregation.

If you were enjoying a pleasant, well-fed stupor in the hours and days after Thanksgiving, the season of Advent has arrived to throw cold water in your face.  The scriptures we read this past Sunday (Romans 13:-14 and Matthew 3:1-12) don’t feature angels, babies, or stars. Instead, we hear “Wake up! Do not revel in debauchery, quarreling and jealousy!” and “Repent, you brood of vipers!”

It’s not nice to be yelled at. The urgency of these texts can feel exhausting, because most of us have enough urgency in our lives already. We have a long list of unfulfilled responsibilities that grows even longer at this time of year. We’re busy caring for those we love and trying to care for ourselves.We’re busy sending cards, welcoming guests, observing traditions, and acting cheerful, even if we’re really stressed-out or sad. We’re busy — and if we’re not, something tell us that we should be, just to keep up appearances.

But the wake-up call we get this week, this cold Advent faceful of water, isn’t about our normal responsibilities, or our holiday to-do list. Instead we hear from a foul-smelling, fly-ridden, crazy-eyed prophet. He doesn’t care if we meet our deadlines. No one who wears camel’s hair and eats insects is very concerned about other people’s expectations. Instead, he’s asking us to put all that other stuff aside to wake up to the immanent, magnificent, life-changing presence of God.

John’s words are harsh. But all of us need a bracing pep talk now and then to keep our priorities straight. We need a voice that’s strange and powerful enough to break through our everyday. It’s only then that we can fight against the nagging voice that asks us to do, or be, the wrong kind of more. It’s only then that we can defy expectations that lead us to anxiety and despair. It’s only then that we can wake up to the kingdom of heaven all around us.

So whenever you take a look at your watch or your clock, try to see John’s face instead. When you’re writing down your list of tasks, add in a reminder: “The Kingdom of Heaven is Near!” May we all receive this gift of God, this strange and smelly prophet, and wake up to the presence of God all around us.

Zacchaeus was trying to see who Jesus was, but on account of the crowd he could not, because he was short in stature.  So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore tree to see him, because he was going to pass that way.  When Jesus came to the place, he looked up and said to him, “Zacchaeus, hurry and come down; for I must stay at your house today.”     Luke 19:2-5

Why can’t we all be like Zacchaeus? It only takes ten verses for this guy to make a dramatic spiritual transformation.

Zacchaeus starts out as the baddest of the Jericho bad. He’s is a tax collector, which means that he is a traitor, a Jew who collaborates with Roman colonial rulers. He’s a chief tax collector, which means he’s one of the most important traitors around. And he’s a rich chief tax collector, which means he’s great at extortion.

Zacchaeus is the baddest of the Jericho bad. But, for some reason, he is interested in Jesus. He can’t see Jesus over the crowd, and he can’t get through the crowd –  so he runs ahead of the crowd and he hoists himself up into a tree.

Earlier in the gospel of Luke, there are plenty of stories of rich men getting a hard time from Jesus.  We have every reason to suspect that Zacchaeus is next. But instead, Jesus asks him to come down from the tree, and invites himself over for dinner. And that’s all it takes. The next moment, Zacchaeus promises to give half of what he owns to the poor, and pay four times what he owes to anyone he has defrauded.

Why can’t we all be like Zacchaeus? Well, most of us don’t start out as the baddest of the bad. SBut it’s not only our unexceptional back stories that create a stumbling block. Living a faithful life is a project that just keeps going, even if we have big revelations and life-changing reversals. We keep facing new and complex decisions. Remembering to love God and neighbor every day is a challenge.

Some people even wonder about Zacchaeus. Does he really follow through on his promises?  And even if he does, what happens next? Does he resign his post as a tax collector? Does he develop a new relationship to his people, his faith, his God?

Whether we take Zaccheus as a role model or a warning, I hope we can embrace some of the enthusiasm of his interaction with Jesus. As we make our everyday choices, may we discover our own thirst for divine encounter, and be refreshed by God’s extravagant response.

God, you come to our hometown and walk right down the street. Help us to run ahead and climb a tree, or do whatever it takes to see who you are and learn how to follow you. Amen.

I pray that God may give you a spirit of wisdom and perception… so that, with the eyes of your heart enlightened, you may know what is the hope to which God has called us, how rich is the glory of the heritage that God offers us. Ephesians 1:17-18

It is that time of year again. That time, when leaves burst out in color and fade and fall; when the air begins to chill; when the plants retreat into the earth; when birds depart for the south. It is the dying time of the year, in this part of the globe. We begin to think more often of those whom we love who have died. We begin to think about where we are in the cycle of life and death. Sometimes we even talk about life, death, and dying.

It is not considered nice to talk about death, so we use other words. We say that someone has passed, or left us; been taken, been lost, or gone to a better place. And yet it is very important to talk about death and dying honestly, without holding back. There is so much to share with one another: poignant memories, and painful ones; fears and questions and plans.

Our culture teaches us that death is something to ignore or, if necessary, to defy. But however we resist it, death is a natural event. And the time of dying, even the process of grieving, can be precious. We give thanks for all of the gifts that a child of God has brought into the world. We embrace one another with hearts that are more open, more tender. And we remember, as Ephesians puts it, the hope to which God has called us, and the glorious heritage that God offers us. But what exactly is the hope, what is the heritage, that God gives us? What is the comfort our faith offers us in the face of death? During this week of All Saints day, I am reminded of three aspects of our hope and heritage in God.

First, I think of the saints themselves. Often we assume  “saints” are those canonized in the Roman or Orthodox traditions. But in New Testament language, the Greek word hagioi simply means “holy ones.” It is the most commonly used title for anyone following in the way of Jesus. All of us have saints who have accompanied us on our journey of faith.  Who are the saints in your life?

Secondly, I think about how God draws us towards a better future. We are taught that God’s realm will someday be fully realized; that Jesus will return among us in a new way; that every tear will be wiped away; that every hungry mouth will be filled; that there will be a new heaven and a new earth. This beautiful hope stands before us, encouraging us to be part of God’s work in the world.

Finally, at this dying time of year, I think of the gift of the resurrection. In the mysterious rising of Jesus, God teaches us that evil, suffering, and even death never have the final word. In God, we are all caught up in a greater story, a greater cycle. We are united with all creation: past, present, and future. Justice, joy, and life will come again. Love will come again, like wheat that rises green. Alleluia, Christ is risen; Christ is risen, indeed.

It is because of our magnificent hope and our glorious inheritance that we can bear to be honest about death. We will not always be full of confidence. We will certainly not be without suffering. And yet, we can take comfort. We are part of a great host of faithful, who have gone before us, and come after us, and walk alongside us. We await a better future that calls us forward. And we have a strange, beautiful resurrection to ponder: a resurrection that happened over two thousand years ago, and yet is still being experienced all over the world. In fact, it is happening right now, whenever we let go of fear, and put our trust in God instead.

Holy One, we give thanks for the heritage and hope we receive in you. We thank you for all the saints who surround us. We thank you for all those who hope and work for God’s realm alongside us. We thank you for all those who embody the resurrection with us. Amen.

Imagine the last really marvelous meal that you ate. Can you think of one? What was the occasion? Where were you? Who were you with? What did you eat? How did it taste? And what was so special about that meal?

At least once a month, we eat together at church during the worship service. Admittedly, these communion “meals” rarely include spectacular food, and the portions are embarrassingly small. So why do we eat during church at all? What kind of strange snack is this, compared to the much more delicious and bountiful meals we eat elsewhere?

At church, we eat to remember. We remember Jesus, gathering with his friends and beloved disciples, on the eve of his death. We remember what he did, and what he said, as he tried to explain to this beloved group that although he was leaving them, he would always be present when they ate together in his name.

At church, we eat to imagine the future that God invites us to help bring about. We come together, people of all classes and nations and languages, gathering around one table. We begin to resemble the realm of God where all people are united, without injustice or suffering. We teach ourselves about God’s dream of unity and fuel ourselves for the work we must do to get there.

The food may be unremarkable. The helpings may be tiny. But when we eat at church, it’s a feast. It’s a grand occasion, gathering in the name of Jesus. We have an incredible host, and there’s an expansive guest list. As we eat and drink, we are connected: to long ago, and yet to come; to far away, and right here; to Jesus, and all of God’s creation.  Whenever we eat this feast, may we be filled and satisfied.

Jesus! What are you saying? I come to bring fire to the earth? I come not to bring peace, but division?

If we read Luke 12:49-56, we have to wonder. Did Jesus wake up on the wrong side of his sleeping mat? Did he have a bad fight with his favorite disciple? Where is the one who will lead us on paths of peace?

Although Jesus is a messenger of peace, he is also someone who knows that human life – and God’s call – can lead to conflict. In fact, our fear of conflict sometimes gets in the way of life, of growth, of God. Is there a place in your life where division and conflict could be the path towards a deep, true, holy peace?

God, free us from politeness, fear, and submission. May we be baptized with your fire, refined and renewed and inspired. May we be brave enough for division if it is the way towards your peace, which passes all understanding. Amen.

“Cease to do evil, learn to do good; seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow.” Isaiah 1:16-17

The prophet Isaiah is probably best known for the beautiful words we hear in the seasons of Advent and Christmas: The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; a child has been born, and he is named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. But Isaiah, like all prophets, also has words of judgment and warning for us. In the very first chapter of his book, Isaiah rebukes the people of Judah harshly. They are, he says, evil and corrupt: utterly estranged from God.

How have the Judeans earned this scathing indictment? They spend too much money on churchy things: burnt offerings and incense. They require the local farmers to attend too many festivals, a hardship, because time away from the fields meant a loss of preciously needed income. They have an excess of food, and enjoy prosperous ease, while forgetting the poor and needy.

The people of Judah have gotten extravagant.  They’re failing to look after those who are most vulnerable among them. The prophet counsels them: “Cease to do evil, learn to do good: seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow.”

We have all too much in common with the Judean people, and it’s hard to enjoy this scriptural lecture when we realize it’s directed at us, as well. But dare I say that this kind of lecture is often good for us? Our encounters with the Living God should be powerful and challenging enough to slowly free us from all of the lies we have been taught, from all of the injustices we are complicit in, and from all of the habits that are harmful to us. Our encounters should liberate us to love God and our neighbor with all our hearts, and minds, and strength; and our neighbors as ourselves.

Wherever we are on our journey, God invites us to try again, to take one more step towards humility, towards simplicity, towards compassion, towards justice. What step could you take?  What freedom could you embrace?

God, embolden us to understand where we have gone wrong. Awaken our trust in your mercy. Through your grace, may we slowly become who you created us to be, ceasing to do evil, and learning to do good. Amen.

A lawyer asks Jesus “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” Together they agree that the answer is found in Jewish law: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself.” But the lawyer is still unsatisfied. He asks Jesus, “Who is my neighbor?”

Jesus proceeds to tell this lawyer the parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:30-37). A man who is traveling is robbed, stripped, beaten, and left for dead. Three people pass him on the road: a priest, a Levite, and a Samaritan. It is the Samaritan, the outsider, who shows mercy, providing lavish care and kindness. Jesus concludes, “Go, and do likewise.”

Just as the lawyer asks, “Who is my neighbor?”, those of us who hear this story often ask who the characters are. Who, in our lives, is the robbed man, the person whom we have passed by on the road? Who, in our lives, is the Samaritan, the compassionate person whom we have misjudged?

The wisdom of the Samaritan is abundance in the face of need, mercy in the face of prejudice. If we love God with all that we are, God will help us to have compassion for others, no matter what stands between us. In this way, we will find healing, and the courage to serve and be served.

Holy Comforter, there is so much need inside and around us.  Teach us to love you, and to receive your love, so that we might put your teachings into action, showing mercy for one another. Amen.