The Missing

This sermon was heard at The Federated Church in Weatherford, Oklahoma on Sunday September 11, 2016, the Twenty-Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time.

Jeremiah 4:11-12, 22-28
Psalm 14
1Timothy 1:12-17
Luke 15:1-10

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

There are certain Sundays pastors look forward to preaching, and certain Sundays we don’t. They vary from pastor to pastor of course. As for me, I believe this is the first time I have ever preached on September 11th. It’s not that I’ve avoided it in the past, and I might be wrong. If I did the sermon wasn’t memorable. This year is different for some reason.

Fifteen years ago I was sitting in a seminary classroom learning the Hebrew alphabet. At 9:30ish there was a commotion in the hall, but I thought nothing of it. Some classes let out at that time. It was louder than usual, and Prof. Rev. Dr. Kathryn Roberts did not take interruptions lightly, she took them personally. So I focused on the board instead of the distraction.

I went down to Financial Aid after class. That was when I first found out about what had happened in New York City. None of the computers at the seminary were powerful enough or fast enough to process video, except for the server room of course. So Financial Aid Director Glenna Balch and I listened on the radio. I told her this must have been what listening to “War of the Worlds” felt like, except this was really happening. Then I rushed back to our apartment where I found Marie in shock.

In New York City people started putting up signs almost immediately. There were flyers with people’s pictures everywhere asking “Have you seen…?” followed by somebody’s name. Pictures from people hoping, begging that someone might have seen someone else. Had a piece of news. Maybe a friend of a friend or something.

First responders, police, firemen, EMT’s, nurses, all sorts of people came out of the woodwork to make things better. They became helpers. Some became heroes. Some became fallen heroes. Some were looking for loved ones. Everybody was looking because it was the right thing to do.

The last missing person, Michelle Guzman McMillan became a survivor when she was pulled from the rubble at about 12:30 pm on September 12. That was more than 27 hours after the North Tower fell. Her office was in that tower on the 64th floor.

But I don’t have to tell a Sooner about any of this. A little over six years earlier, Oklahoma City had its own disaster at the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building. On April 19, 1995, a Ryder truck loaded up with fertilizer and diesel was dropped off and detonated in front of the Murrah building blowing the front third off of the building killing 168 people, 19 of whom were children under the age of six and wounding 800 more.

At 9:03 am, the first of over 1,800 911 calls were received by the OKC Emergency Medical Services Authority, but by that time, EMSA ambulances, police, and firefighters were already headed to the scene, because they heard the blast. People who had witnessed or heard the blast arrived to assist the victims and emergency workers soon after. Within 23 minutes of the bombing, the State Emergency Operations Center was set up, with representatives from the state departments of public safety, human services, military, health, and education. Assisting the them were agencies like the National Weather Service, the Air Force, the Civil Air Patrol, and the American Red Cross to find the lost, tend the wounded and recover the dead. Immediate assistance also came from 465 members of the Oklahoma National Guard, who arrived within the hour to provide security, and from members of the Department of Civil Emergency Management because heroes need heroes too.

The summer of 2002, the summer after 9/11, Marie and I stopped at the Oklahoma City National Memorial traveling from Austin to Kansas City. I’m getting choked up, forgive me. Two things left me raw, emotionally raw from the visit. The first was the 168 chairs on the lawn, each one bearing the name of one of the victims ripped from this life. Of course there was a special punch in the stomach for the 19 child sized chairs. The other was the chain link fence that still bore the flyers with people’s pictures everywhere asking “Have you seen…?” followed by somebody’s name. Pictures from people hoping, begging that someone might have seen someone else. Had a piece of news. Maybe a friend of a friend or something.

Brandy Ligon was the last person to go from missing to found from the Murrah building bombing. She was fifteen at the time. She was in the nursery and could hear children crying after the bombing. Of course she heard children stop crying too. She was saved thirteen hours after being listed among the lost.

This is the week when we read that a shepherd will leave the 99 to find the one lost sheep to return it to the flock. This is the week when we read that a woman will sweep her house until she has blisters on her fingers if it means finding a tenth of her wealth. Both then will call everyone they know to celebrate because what was missing, is now found.

Most pastors at this point in the sermon take apart the parable to make sense of it. I have preached this passage before and that’s what I did, but not this year. The usual lesson we take from this is that we are called to seek the lost to make life whole again.

But after considering 9/11 and 4/19, it hardly makes me think we will ever really feel whole again, not this side of glory.

This year I stopped reading the passage after verse two, “Now the tax collectors and sinners were all gathering around to hear Jesus. But the Pharisees and the teachers of the law muttered, ‘This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.’”
So why did I stop here?

These readings are about the missing, the lost. These two short parables preface the Parable of the Prodigal Son in Luke’s gospel, a story of a wayward son, but even more so, the story of a Father who longs for his son’s return.

These parables, the two we read today and the parable of the Prodigal, are about the missing which is found. So instead of saying we are called to seek the lost, which is surely true, let me say this instead, in Christ, we are never missing.

In Christ we are never missing.

So often, the Pharisees of this world look at those they call “sinners,” and call them the lost. They have left the fold. They are weak. They are soiled. They are unclean. They are broken. They allow themselves to be used. They point and ask “Where is God?” and the answer is found right here. God in Christ is right there, at the table, breaking bread with them.

I often talk about of our baptismal identity because baptism is the sacramental symbol that shows how Christ joins us. Being celebrated once, unless we make a real effort to remember our baptism, its importance wanes, and I want us to stem that tide, so I remind us to remember our baptism.

Today we look at the other sacrament we celebrate, the Lord’s Supper. Jesus feeds his disciples, his children, the missing and the lost of this world because we are all missing and lost. The Apostle Paul knew this, maybe a bit melodramatically he shares this with Timothy. For all of the good that Paul has done and for the status he holds, he knows that he has done horrible things and is a man of sin, not grace. Paul also knows and shares that salvation comes through grace alone, the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ. He writes, “The grace of our Lord was poured out on me abundantly, along with the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus.”

This grace comes not because of who Paul is or anything he did, but because of who Jesus is and what he does. Who is Jesus and what does he do? He is Immanuel, God with us, who comes and he sits with sinners, breaks bread and shares a meal. Through the Lord’s Supper, a meal only he can invite us to take and eat, we continue to share this meal.

In a few minutes, we will hear from Ashlyn Dillon who will tell us about her African mission trip last summer. This was not her first trip, and maybe not her last. The recurring theme I hear from missionaries is that when they return, their faith is stronger. I’m sure there are many reasons this could be, but I have a guess… I bet they sat down, shared a meal together, and discovered that in Jesus Christ, they weren’t among the missing anymore.

Amen.

God's Little Instruction Book

This sermon was heard at the Federated Church on Sunday September 4, 2016, the Twenty-Third Sunday in Ordinary Time.

Jeremiah 18:1-11
Psalm 139:
Philemon 1-21
Luke 14:25-33

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

Over the last few weeks we have been on the road with Luke as Jesus travels from Galilee to Jerusalem. In this time Jesus has been welcomed and rejected. We have been with Jesus as he has taught and healed in the synagogue and in homes. He has welcomed the outcast and rebuked the powerful. We have seen humility and hypocrisy. We have joined Jesus for meetings with Pharisees, publicans, and prostitutes. We have heard him speak of love, grace, and forgiveness. We have seen Jesus in action and we have heard him teach with authority. So by this time it is no wonder large crowds were travelling with him.

Because of the way Jesus turned and spoke to the crowd I make these two assumptions: First, that there were true believers in the crowd, those who believed they were ready, come what may, when they reached Jerusalem. But secondly, I am just as sure that there were people who followed because it was a great crowd.

Sensing the time was right; Jesus turns to the mass of followers and announces what it takes to complete the journey, what it takes to be his disciple. He tells the crowd that to be his disciple they must hate their families and their own lives. He ends by telling the crowd that to follow him they must give up everything. I can only imagine this must have put quite a damper on the festivities.

When I started seminary, one of the supplementary textbooks for Introduction to the Old Testament was Michael Joseph Brown’s, “What They Didn’t Tell You, A Survivor’s Guide to Biblical Studies.” This book offers twenty-eight “rules of thumb” for seminarians. Some of the information was useful, some wasn’t. But one of the rules has stuck with me like a stone in my shoe. Rule ten says, “The Bible means what it says, and says what it means. Except when it doesn’t.” Luke’s discourse on hating family is the essence of this rule.

The original language of the text is an idiom, an expression unique to the culture. Fortunately for us, the parallel in Matthew’s gospel expresses what Jesus said in a way we can better understand. Matthew’s gospel records Jesus saying “Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me.” While it is probable that Jesus said what was recorded in Luke’s gospel, its meaning is better rendered in English the way it is written in Matthew’s.

Either way, Jesus calls for a radical realignment of priorities. What has been acceptable in the past isn’t anymore. Anyone who is not ready to make the sacrifice Jesus demands follows at their own peril. The law isn’t changing, but its interpretation in Christ is new and different.

This is an example of scripture meaning what it says, except when it doesn’t. We aren’t supposed to hate, loathe, and despise our families and our lives. To follow Christ, we must love the Lord our God more than we love our families and our lives. In their place, Jesus put discipleship above all other obligations. Inherently we knew that Jesus did not abolish the law to honor thy father and thy mother; but it is difficult to understand that from this passage’s English translation.

The final verse in this reading was difficult for many in the crowd to hear then and it is now too. Jesus tells the crowd none of them can become his disciple if they do not give up all their possessions. Jesus doesn’t offer any wiggle room here; this is not an expression. Just as we are called to put Jesus above all human relationships we are called to part from all things for the sake of discipleship. This reading points to a renunciation of all possessions as a part of the radical realignment of our lives. To be a disciple of Jesus, we must put Him above everything.

Jesus goes on in this lesson to warn us about what will happen should we fail. If we cannot bear the cost of discipleship, we stand to be mocked just as the builder is ridiculed when unable to finish building a tower. Just like a warrior who doesn’t bring enough firepower to win a battle.

But I skipped something, and this sentence is the hinge pin between the two parts. “Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.” We are told we have to put Jesus above all else. And we are warned about the results of following without being fully engaged. But what does it mean to carry our cross?

Theories abound. Some New Testament language scholars see bearing the cross as the metaphorical beginning of discipleship. We do in our lives as Jesus does on his journey. Others compare this to taking on a yoke, its mantle representing the patibulum, the horizontal piece of the crucifix. Others attribute this phrase to a popular expression which was originally a curse applied to the zealots and later to Jesus’ followers, “Ah, take up your cross.” Perhaps it was some sort of rallying cry having militaristic characteristics. “Take up your cross!” But there is one theory I find quite interesting.

In ancient Israel, the Greek letter “Tau”, our letter “T” was worn by some as a cultic mark, a sign of protection and possession. After the crucifixion, the Tau was related to the historical cross of Jesus as a seal of possession in Christ. While scholars do not think that this was in the mind of Jesus, perhaps it was in the mind of those who wrote this gospel. Now, don’t worry, this is not a call for all of us to go and get tattoos. The Tau is a sign, a symbol. Symbols communicate action; they do not perform the action. We have another symbol to communicate this action.

We carry the cross in the waters of our baptism. As some took the Tau as a symbol, we accept the water as the sign that we rise and die and rise again with Christ. As Jesus called the followers to take up the cross daily, we are called to remember our baptism. In our baptism we accept Jesus’ call to faithfulness, rebirth, and covenant into the body of Christ.

Several years ago, on a rainy Easter Sunday in Austin, Texas, the Reverend Doctor Ellen Babinsky began the service of the Lord’s Day by saying that it was damp and that in our baptism we are called to live wet. The morning was rainy and sloppy. We were never promised that living wet would be tidy; on the contrary, living wet is frequently sloppy.

In 1993, Honor Books published “God’s Little Instruction Book, Inspirational Wisdom on How to Live a Happy and Fulfilled Life.” What the book does is couple little insights with scripture. I’ll admit some of them bother me. For example, “There is a name for people who are not excited about their work—unemployed.” This isn’t a pastoral thing to say.

Another is “the best way to forget your own problems is to help [solve someone else’s].” While this is not inappropriate under many circumstances, this advice can be a disaster for problem solvers with mental health issues. This “inspirational wisdom” could make matters worse for both.

When the authors remind us “If at first you don’t succeed, try reading the instructions,” I just hope the instructions don’t contain an idiom translated from Ancient Greek. This is the problem with clichés. These guides to a “happy and fulfilled life” are so glossy that when forced to bear the weight of the cross they crumble like sand castles. The way of the discipleship is more precious than simple sayings.

One of my favorite movies is Rob Reiner’s “The Princess Bride.” If you have never seen it, then after church get supper to-go from Lucille’s or Benchwarmer Brown’s or Taco Mayo or Micky-D’s or your favorite restaurant and pull it up on Netflix. You’ve deprived yourself and your children too long.

The image from the cover of the bulletin has two characters from the movie, Mandy Patinkin as Inigo Montoya, and Wallace Shawn as Vizzini. Vizzini has been hired to kidnap the Princess Buttercup and has hired a swordsman, Inigo, and a brute played by the late professional wrestler Andre the Giant to assist him. Vizzini as the brains of the operation has laid out a diabolical plot, but he is being followed by a Man in Black who seems intent to thwart their plans.


Every time the Man in Black gets closer, Vizzini gets more flustered. Every time Vizzini gets flustered, he cries out, “Inconceivable!” Finally, after the fifth time Vizzini cries out “Inconceivable” Inigo says “You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.” As for our reading, Jesus says we have to hate our families, but as we now know, that does not mean what we think it means.

As for me, I believe that the bible is always right; but I know I get things wrong. There are things we don’t understand. Great is the mystery of faith. What we must understand is that we are called to live in community, in the assembled body of Christ, living wet, and bearing our crosses.

Fortunately, we have the perfect role model for this relationship. We have the example of Jesus who as a person teaches us how to relate to one another with humility, love, grace, and forgiveness. We have the example of Christ the Lord who models the perfect relationship; existing as one in three in an eternal dance of being in community. When we live wet, when we bear our cross in Christ, then we can follow and be his disciple. Amen.