As a Matter of Fact...

This sermon was heard at the First Presbyterian Church in Berryville, Arkansas on Sunday January 24, 2010, the 3rd Sunday in Ordinary Time.

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

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen.

Last week we read from the Gospel of John, the wedding at Cana; the wonderful and glorious story of Jesus’ first public miracle. From this act we get the expression “turning water into wine,” a phrase we use to show the transformation of something common into something extraordinary, something holy. By this miracle, may we never think of the ordinary as ordinary ever again, in God’s capable hands all things, especially the most common, are holy.

Today, we read Luke’s version of the beginning of Jesus’ public ministry. Jesus returns from the desert where he was tempted by the devil. The temptations he is offered come in the form of taking the easy way out. Jesus is offered sustenance, power, and protection if he just does as the devil tempts. Resisting these temptations, the devil retreats until what Luke calls, “an opportune time.”

So Jesus returns to Galilee where his teaching was praised by everyone. Now let’s remember that Jesus had just spent forty days in the desert. Unless the Holy Spirit gave Jesus a spa day as a reward for resisting temptation, when Jesus came into Galilee, he looked like a man who had just spent forty days in the wilderness.

He would have been sunburned and windblown. His face would be peeling from the blisters of the exposure he received and his hair would have been flying wildly from his head, his beard shaggy even by first century standards. His clothes and sandals would have had enough sand whipped through them that when he walked he would look like Pigpen from the “Peanuts” comics. Shaking out his cloak, he could generate his own dust storm.

So looking maniacal, this wild man, looking like he was wearing the “John the Baptist” Halloween costume; he came to Galilee filled with the power of the Spirit where his teaching was praised by everyone. I imagine the look brought people to the synagogue the first time to hear him speak, but it was what he taught that kept them coming back.

So Jesus returns home for the first time since his baptism and his time in the desert. He returns for the first time since he began this chapter of his teaching ministry. I say “this chapter” because as we noted a couple of weeks ago, at the age of twelve Jesus amazed all who heard him at the temple, his Father’s house, with his understanding and his answers. This may not be his first rodeo, but it is the first at his hometown synagogue since his baptism.

As with our service today, the ancient synagogue service had its own particular liturgy. There is an order of service not unlike the one we follow today. In the day, it was not uncommon for the leader of the synagogue to ask or appoint readers and teachers before the service began. Jesus, the one whose teachings are praised by everyone, is invited to read by the head of the synagogue. So he stands up and this is what he reads:

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

Then he sits, as is the tradition of the teacher in the synagogue, and he says, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.” Jesus reads one of the prophecies from the book of Isaiah which announces the Messiah, the Anointed. Using the word which comes to us through the Greeks, this is how Isaiah introduces the Christ. Luke, using these very words, formally introduces Jesus and his ministry to the world.

Imagine what’s going to happen next in Luke’s gospel. On TV they call this a cliff-hanger and like on TV, we’ll see how the synagogue responds to Jesus’ words next week.

I want to add a historical comment here. Scholars debate about whether or not in this time there were scheduled readings for a particular day’s service, what we call a lectionary. I mention this boring little fact because of the question it raises about the reading selection. When Jesus came forward to read, one of two things happened, either he specifically asked for the Isaiah scroll to read this very piece, or this scroll was already prepared for the reader before worship began.

I side with the scholars who believe this was a lectionary reading, a reading planned by the ruler of the synagogue or chosen by the scribes in the temple. Not so much because of the quality of scholarship or the arguments of professors and theologians and folks with an alphabet soup following their names; M.Div., D.Min., Ph.D., ASPCA, MOUSE, you get the idea. No, I like it because of what it says about Jesus.

What draws me to this conclusion is that if Jesus specifically chose the reading of this piece, it would mean that it was his intention to drop a bomb on those who came to listen. At this moment in his ministry, I just don’t see Jesus as being so brazen as to draw attention to himself this way. Jesus never seemed like the “Hey, look at me” kid on the playground hanging upside down from the swing set.

Yet I do believe that if handed the scripture to be read, and being called upon to interpret it, he would share the Good News with the people of Nazareth. After being given this to read, I do believe Jesus would say to the world, “As a matter of fact, yes, this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.

This is the Messiah, the Christ sharing the Good News with the people of Nazareth and with all creation. Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing. In this place, in this time, the Spirit of the Lord is upon me to bring good news to the poor. Jesus has been sent to proclaim release to the captives. Don’t you just know Jesus was talking about more captivity than just county jail? Don’t we know he was talking about physical and personal prisons when he talked about recovery of sight to the blind and letting the oppressed go free?

This is how Jesus presents himself to the world, proclaiming the year of the Lord’s favor, as the embodiment of the Lord’s favor.

On December third of last year, Carolyn Gains left this earth. Just a few days earlier, both Marie’s—Bolerjack and Andresen—and I went to the nursing home to see her. We had just finished our prayer group meeting and we went for a chat. There was her many pictures. There were cards and a poinsettia. Her life surrounded her in that little cube, a room she truly did not like. As homey as a nursing home could be, it was. But it wasn’t home, not by a long shot.

We all knew Carolyn loved to sing. She loved to study. She led worship here often. Carolyn served as an Elder on the Session of this church. She laughed. She loved. And her body failed her every step of the way.

I am not going to say that her passing was a good thing. Those words are just too brutal and tactless for my tastes. I will say that it is a joy that she is now with her heavenly Father. The pain that she experienced because her joints had failed her for so long has now ended. She has been released from that captivity. She now is dancing in heaven, her heavenly body joining her heavenly voice singing of the new day of the Lord for the glory of God.

The day before yesterday we came to know another loss; the loss of a wife, a mother, a mother-in-law, a grandmother, a surrogate mother and a wonderful friend to many. We lost an Elder, regular member of the nominating committee, and a saint of the Church. I heard of Marie Bolerjack’s death at about 10:30 Friday morning. Getting ready to head to Fayetteville, I stopped by the office and that was where I got Pam’s message. For me, time stood still. Pam told me that she told my Marie, so I knew that I had to get home and be with her.

And my grief next that of the Bolerjack family pales.

Today, I know I need to say something about Marie, but finding what to say and how to say it is difficult. Her importance to her family and to this community, to this part of the Body of Christ will not fade for a long, long time. As we celebrate her life, and her love for all creatures great and small, if I were to say that “God needed another angel so He called Marie home,” if I were to say that I would expect a slap to the face, a hard punch to the stomach, and a kick in the shins. We are richer for her presence in our lives, not for the loss.

So we ask ourselves what Jesus means when he tells us here today that he brings good news to the poor, because today we are poorer. Today our hearts are bound by sorrow that cries for release. Marie’s joyful life was filled with love of her family and friends; for her church and especially for her Lord. To Marie, the Good News of Jesus Christ was, is, and always will be real and vibrant.

Friends, here’s the Good News of Jesus Christ; the Good News brought to us, the release that comes from the Lord, the healing of our eyes so that God may be seen, the oppression that is conquered so that freedom can be lived in God’s sight; this promise, this freedom, this year of the Lord’s favor is upon us.

Our reading from Corinthians reminds us that when one member suffers, all suffer together; when one member is honored all rejoice together. Wonderfully, gloriously, Marie Bolerjack lived the glory of new life in Jesus Christ every day. She reveled in her Lord and Savior. I can think of nobody who displayed the grace of the Almighty like she did. She knew no stranger; she shared life in Christ with all creation.

Marie lived a life of grace, peace, and joy in the Lord. Our sadness, our mourning is real. Attempts to mask our sadness are a disguise. Still, the Spirit of the Lord is upon Jesus, he has been anointed so that we, we who love Marie, so that we may be set free from our sadness and released into the Lord’s favor. As in our reading from Nehemiah, the joy of the Lord is the source of our strength. It is by this strength that our grief is removed.

Remembering Carolyn and Marie, remembering these wonderful women, these saints of the church; we are reminded that the glory of the Good News is that as we mourn and as we celebrate the lives of these wonderful women, we are called to share in the Good News of Jesus Christ. It is by his stripes, by the truth that he shared that day at the synagogue in Nazareth, that we will be healed.

We will be set free from all sorrow. From all chains, we will be unbound. In all joy, we will come together and celebrate the saints who have gone before us and await both the presence and the coming of the year of the Lord’s favor. It is by our sorrow and by our joy in the Lord Jesus Christ that we are transformed, like the water into wine, into the children God wants us to be. In this passage Jesus described to the people of Nazareth how he has come to them. And as a matter of fact, by the power of the Holy Spirit this scripture continues to be fulfilled on our hearing.

Memory Tree Homily

This homily was delivered at the St. John's Hospice Memory Tree Service in Berryville, Arkansas on December 5, 2006.

Let us pray…May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen.

Listen to the word of the Lord from the Prophet Isaiah 40:1-8, 11 and 28-31[1]

Comfort, O comfort my people,
says your God.
Speak tenderly to Jerusalem,
and cry to her
that she has served her term,
that her penalty is paid,
that she has received from the LORD's hand
double for all her sins.

A voice cries out:
"In the wilderness prepare the way of the LORD,
make straight in the desert a highway for our God.
Every valley shall be lifted up,
and every mountain and hill be made low;
the uneven ground shall become level,
and the rough places a plain.
Then the glory of the LORD shall be revealed,
and all people shall see it together,
for the mouth of the LORD has spoken."

A voice says, "Cry out!"
And I said, "What shall I cry?"
All people are grass,
their constancy is like the flower of the field.
The grass withers, the flower fades,
when the breath of the LORD blows upon it;
surely the people are grass.
The grass withers, the flower fades;
but the word of our God will stand forever.

He will feed his flock like a shepherd;
he will gather the lambs in his arms,
and carry them in his bosom,
and gently lead the mother sheep.

Have you not known? Have you not heard?
The LORD is the everlasting God,
the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He does not faint or grow weary;
his understanding is unsearchable.
He gives power to the faint,
and strengthens the powerless.
Even youths will faint and be weary,
and the young will fall exhausted;
but those who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength,
they shall mount up with wings like eagles,
they shall run and not be weary,
they shall walk and not faint.

This is the Word of the Lord
Thanks be to God

I haven’t been a minister long. In fact, I only recently graduated from seminary. In seminary I had a friend named Rick who plays piano wonderfully. During a particularly stressful time in his first year, another classmate, Dana, asked Rick to come with her to the chapel and play so she could sing. Singing is how she blew off steam and refreshed herself. She had hoped Rick would be willing to help her rejuvenate and prepare for the next round of tests. Rick was gracious and agreed to go with her. Now, everyone in our circle of friends knew Rick had played professionally, so Rick had heard his share of singers. More to the point— Rick had heard his share of wannabe divas who wanted his opinion of their singing voice.

Well, Rick was gracious and played. He didn’t put his whole heart into it because he wasn’t expecting much. Then she began to sing. She put all of her uncertainty, all of her frustration, and all of her pain into song, singing a great hymn of the church. She wasn’t but about three notes in when Rick knew he had to play his heart out if he was going to keep up with her. When they finished, they were both in a better humor, they had gotten rid of some of the stress from classes. For a brief shining moment, all was well and they were ready to face the world.[2]

They felt tossed and turned by what life was throwing at them. Together, through music, they were able to find something familiar, a spot of joy and praise. Together, they found solace in the worship of God through song. The song she sang? Horatio Spafford’s “It Is Well with My Soul.”

The circumstances behind this song are traumatic.[3] Spafford’s business had faced huge set backs because of the Chicago fire of 1871. Scarlet fever claimed his son’s life a year earlier. In 1873, Spafford, his wife Anna, and four daughters were scheduled to take a trip to England, partially for holiday and partially to help D. L. Moody with his mission work in Europe. Mr. Spafford was delayed due to business, but he convinced his wife and family to precede him across the Atlantic. On the trip, their ship, the Ville de Havre collided with the English vessel Lochearn causing it to sink in only twelve minutes. Anna Spafford was the only member of the family to survive.

After getting word of the disaster, Mr. Spafford left as soon as he could book passage. During his voyage, the captain of the ship called Spafford to the bridge and showed him the site of the wreck. The Ville de Havre was laying three miles below them on the ocean floor. Then, Spafford retired to his cabin and wrote the hymn “It Is Well with My Soul.”

In the book of the Prophet Isaiah it is written:

A voice says, "Cry out!"
And I said, "What shall I cry?"

What shall I cry indeed.

This sanctuary is filled with people who have asked that very question. Some cry out like Abraham. After learning of the death of his son Joseph, Abraham ripped his clothes and covered himself in ashes. Some react like Naomi after the deaths of her husband and sons. She tells her friends, “Call me no longer Naomi, call me Mara, for the Almighty has dealt bitterly with me.” Others, in their pain and grief write hymns trying to find reassurance in the words and images of the faith.

In a broken world, each of these people was precisely in tune with their brokenness. Their lives had been tossed tea kettle over spout. Their feelings of brokenness were raw and exposed like a nerve.

As the wind turns cold in the Ozarks, the grass withers and the flower fades just as Isaiah prophesies. The exposed nerves have begun to be dulled, maybe even begun to heal. This then is when we begin to hear the voice crying out on the wind:

"In the wilderness prepare the way of the LORD,
make straight in the desert a highway for our God.
Every valley shall be lifted up,
and every mountain and hill be made low;
the uneven ground shall become level,
and the rough places a plain.
Then the glory of the LORD shall be revealed,
and all people shall see it together,
for the mouth of the LORD has spoken."

Advent is the season of the coming of the Lord when we make straight the highways, lift the valleys, and make low the hills and mountains. The way is prepared in our homes, in our churches and in our selves. This is difficult for those who mourn. Joy and glee seem to have no purchase in the heart of one covered in sackcloth and ash. Times like this, it is easy to feel out of place with what our society proposes we should feel and say.

Yet give thanks that our mourning, our brokenness is shared by our Lord and Messiah. With thanks and praise, I offer again the words of Isaiah saying:

Comfort, O comfort my people,
says your God.
Speak tenderly to Jerusalem,
and cry to her
that she has served her term,
that her penalty is paid.

God takes our brokenness. God takes our mourning. God takes what we offer. Somehow, in ways I cannot hope to understand or even imagine, God takes our grief and lifts us up. Yes, we still feel sorrow. Yes, there is still grief. Yes, we mourn. And it is with these offerings that the Lord lifts up the valleys and makes low the mountains. Through the Advent, the coming of Jesus Christ, our trials, sorrow, and pain are made glorious by the one who came to earth.

Our reading from Isaiah concludes:

The LORD is the everlasting God,
the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He does not faint or grow weary;
his understanding is unsearchable.
He gives power to the faint,
and strengthens the powerless.

In the Lord is our strength. With and through the strength of God, our brokenness becomes praise. Mourning becomes a blessed state. When Horatio Spafford wrote, “It Is Well with My Soul,” he was surely in the throes of grief. But through the healing power of the Lord, God has the last word on the day when we are able to see of our faith, the day when the clouds roll back, the trumpet resounds and the Lord descends. Then as Spafford reminds us, even so, even through this pain, because the Lord is coming in power and great glory, it is well with my soul. As Isaiah reminds us, the Lord will gather his lambs in his arms, carrying us in his bosom.

[1] New Revised Standard Version
[2] Rick Brooks is now an ordained minister in Charlotte, North Carolina. Dana Boes, is now an ordained minister in Las Vegas, Nevada.
[3] Mackey, Rev. Dr. Jeffrey A., “The Reality of My Brokenness,” Sharing—A Journal of Christian Healing. January 2006, San Antonio: The International Order of St. Luke the Physician, pages 1-4.