Thanksgiving Eve

 Preached at community ecumenical service, at Faith Lutheran Church, Massillon OH

Thanksgiving, 2021
Joel 2:21-27
Psalm 126
1 Timothy 2:1-7
Matthew 6:25-33

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

 So here’s a weird thing.  Thanksgiving is a day set aside for us to give thanks for the abundance in our lives.  But this gospel reading we just heard seems to focus our attention on scarcity.  Most people spend Thanksgiving cooking way too much food, rather than worrying about not having enough.  So why do we get this reading on this day?  What gives?

Well, I think the answer lies in the word “worry.”  Some of the people most focused on wealth are the people with the most wealth.  Billionaires who spend all their time worrying about how to become the world’s first Trillionaire.  This gospel reading sounds like Jesus is preaching to the poor folks, but I think he’s preaching even harder to the rich people.  Why are you worried about your fancy clothes and your banquet table and your fancy house and your stock options?  It’s not that you don’t have enough; it’s that you have too much.

What I really like about this reading is the part about the birds.  They neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns.  But if you’ve ever watched the activity around a bird feeder, you know that birds definitely put in the effort to find food.  It’s not like the food comes to them.  They look for food, and they find food, and they eat food.  But what they don’t do is store up food for tomorrow.  They don’t worry about tomorrow . . . because they don’t even know what a “tomorrow” is, right?

Birds don’t have pockets or purses or barns.  So they live day to day.  And then there’s us.  We’re supposed to not only plan for today tomorrow and next week, we’re supposed to plan for our retirement and—as any life insurance agent will tell you—even plan for our death!  Every message we get about responsible adulting is focused on the future.  What will tomorrow bring?  Think about the grandchildren you don’t even have yet.  You and I are a long way from this sort of “Hippie lessons of the Buddha” that Jesus is giving us today.  It’s hard to know how to apply it to our lives, to be honest.

We are told, in essence, “Don’t worry because God provides.”  Well, okay, how does God provide?  I’m afraid we all secretly think God provides in the way of manna in the desert.  You know, like when I’m hungry, a can of soup will just fall from the sky.  When I need a parking spot, God will magically provide one.  But hopefully we all agree, that’s not the case.  How does God provide?  I think the answer is, God provides through other people.  

Here’s a great example:  One thing I am very thankful for this year is a safe, effective vaccine available to anyone who wants it.  And you know who made that possible?  Other people.  God imbues us with wisdom and knowledge and creativity, and people used those to create a vaccine that will save millions of lives.  God provides through other people.  But it takes people being willing to use their God-given gifts to make a difference.

And, for an example on the other end of things, there is no reason anyone anywhere should starve to death when there are other people around.  There is plenty of food in the world to feed every person every day.  And yet . . . well, you’ve seen the news.  We have the food, and we have the people to distribute it, but something gets lost along the way.

Either way, it all comes down to people.  The reason you’re even here in this church tonight is because somebody told you about Jesus.  When you were a child, somebody might have taken you to church.  When you were a baby, somebody definitely fed you, since newborns are even more helpless than the birds of the air.  Other people have brought you to where you are today.  God has given us each other.

At Thanksgiving we express our gratefulness for the many blessings of this life.  Out of habit, we show that mostly by covering our tables with more food than we can possibly eat in one sitting.  But one of the greatest gifts, possibly the most tangible blessing in our lives, is that God has given us each other.  And when we have people in our lives who love us, who reflect love of Jesus back to us, then we don’t have to worry about what we will eat or what we will wear.  Because even though we don’t know what the future will bring, we know we are walking into that future together.

May God make us always grateful that we have each other.  And may God inspire each one of us to reach out to others, to be the hands and feet of Jesus in this world.  We are the ones through whom God provides.

Amen.

YEAR B 2021 feast of all saints

All Saints, 2021
Wisdom of Solomon 3:1-9
Psalm 24
Revelation 21:1-6a
John 11:32-44

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

I don’t know if you’re familiar with the PBS series called “Grantchester.”  I’m really quite fond of it.  Probably because it’s about an Anglican priest.  It’s a really good series, but it definitely suggests that I am way behind in solving murders about town.  Anyway, the most-recent episode ends with the priest going to visit his former curate in prison.  When the two are face to face, the priest asks how he’s doing, and the first words from curate are, “Will you pray with me?”

And it crushed me!  I don’t often cry over television shows, but this really got to me.  And the more I thought about it, the more I realized that it was the word “with” that did it.  He doesn’t say, “will you pray for me when you get back home?”  No, he asks him to pray with him.  Right here, in front of the two prison guards.  And this is the Anglican way.  Our prayer is public, corporate, and common.  Our book of prayer is called “common” because we use it in common, together.  We worship together.

And we see this in today’s gospel reading.  After Jesus tells Lazarus to come out, Jesus does not take the cloths off Lazarus.  He doesn’t tell Lazarus to unbind himself.  No, says to the community of friends, “Unbind him and let him go.”  He is raised back to life by Jesus, but he is set free by the community.  You and I follow this same pattern: In Holy Baptism—like when Levi is baptized at our 10 o’clock service today—in Baptism we are brought to new life, and in the community we are set free.  Set free to live out our faith, worshipping together, praying together.  Unbind him, and let him go.  Indeed.

But let’s look at what comes before that dramatic moment.  Jesus comes to be with Mary and Martha because their brother Lazarus has died.  Our reading today begins with Mary kneeling before Jesus and saying, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died."  Ouch!  That is some serious sass isn’t it?  I mean who talks to Jesus like that?  Well, the truthful answer is, all of us do.  We all have moments when we blame God for things, when we doubt whether God really cares about us.  

But it’s interesting that Mary is not questioning Jesus’ ability to help; she questions his timing.  Which is kind of worse, when you think about it.  She’s saying, Jesus, if you had been more punctual, none of this would have happened.  You could have done something, but you were late.  This feels really awkward and pushy to me.  If I were Jesus, I think this would have put me over the edge.  Fortunately for all of us, I’m not Jesus.

Then Jesus asks, "Where have you laid him?" They say to him, "Lord, come and see.”  Jesus is asking, “Where is your pain?  Where is your shame?  Where is the thing that makes you so hurt and angry with me?”  And they say, “Lord, come and see.”  They invite him into their literal pain and suffering, and Jesus begins to weep.  This moment is crucial to our understanding of how Jesus feels about us and about our suffering.  Jesus knows we are hurting, and when we show him our pain, Jesus weeps with us.  God weeps with us.  Like the curate in Grantchester, pray with me, be with me, weep with me.

But then they get cold feet.  When they get to the tomb where Lazarus has been laid to rest, Martha, his sister says, "Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead four days.”  They go from inviting Jesus into their pain saying “Come and see,” to now saying, “No Jesus, it’s too smelly for you.”  Like, Jesus can take seeing my pain and weeping with me, but some things are just too stinky.  This would be too much for you Jesus; you’re too holy to withstand the really hard stuff in my life.

It’s a powerful metaphor isn’t it?  Don’t we all do this?  Push down the things and hide the stuff that isn’t holy enough for Jesus to see?  Like Jesus is just too precious for it?  Too perfect to put up with our imperfections and failures?  Too disappointed in us for not living up to the expectations of others?  That part of my life is just too sordid for you to get involved with Jesus.  Let’s go back to the house and turn some water into wine or something.

Then Jesus says, take away the stone.  And they do.  The community takes away the stone.  Together.  Jesus tells Lazarus to come out.  And then Jesus says to the people, "Unbind him, and set him free.”  And the community does, together.  And we see this exact same pattern in our own lives, over and over.

When tragedy strikes, we say to God, “If you had been here, this horrible thing would not have happened to me.”  And Jesus asks, “Where is your suffering, show me.”  And we say, “Come and see.”  And Jesus weeps with us.  He weeps in the community with us.  But then we decide that there are some things that are too big for Jesus to take.  Too painful for him to understand.  Too stinky for his holy nose to handle.

And that’s when Jesus says to the community around us, take away the stone, unbind them and set them free.  God invites us into communities for exactly this reason.  So that we do not have to suffer alone.  We do not have to pray alone.  We do not have to sing or worship or eat alone.  The hands and feet of Jesus are in this room.  We are the body of Christ in this world.  And we can say to one another, pray with me, unbind me, set me free.  And together, we are set free because of Jesus.

 Each one of us is Mary and Martha, with our anger at God for not doing what we expect.  And Jesus weeps with us.  Each one of us is a member of the community, that follows the command of Jesus to unbind one another and set them free.  And each one of us is Lazarus in the tomb, awaiting the voice of Jesus to call us out of death into life.

There is no pain or shame that is too much for God.  There is nothing beyond the reach of Jesus’ voice, calling us to new life.  There is nothing we cannot get through together, because God has given us each other, and has also put us in the midst of the saints of every time and every place, all gathered around the throne of God.  You are not alone, because you are surrounded by all the saints of God.  We pray together, we weep together, and we are set free together.  All the saints of God, set free together.

Amen.

All Souls, All the Faithful Departed

All Souls, 2021
Wisdom 3:1–9
Psalm 130
1 Thessalonians 4:13–18
John 5:24-27

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

Today we are celebrating the feast of All Souls, sometimes called All the Faithful Departed.  Before the Reformation, All Souls was a very big deal.  But then Martin Luther and the others decided it was too wrapped up with indulgences and Masses for the dead, and they stamped it out.  Threw out the baby with the bathwater, as it were.

From then on, the Feast of All Souls got kind of melded into All Saints.  In recent times, All Souls has been making a comeback though, and it is distinct from All Saints, which we will celebrate this coming Sunday.  Here’s perhaps a helpful way to distinguish All Saints from All Souls.

All Saints is about the names we know.  And All Souls is about the people we know.  So for All Saints we think of Peter and Paul, the Blessed Virgin Mary, Francis, Julian, Mary Magdalene, and the gospel writers.  For All Souls we focus on our relatives, our mentors, and our friends.  All Saints is for the rock stars; All Souls is for the people we love.  The Rock Stars of the Church are great and all, but these other souls carry us through our lives.

The Saints inspire us, but the faithful departed have fed us, all along the way.  Usually, quite literally fed us.  I love a big celebration as much as anybody, and that’s why All Saints Day is one of my favorite feast days.  But I also want to live and thrive and grow in my faith and love for others, and that’s why All Souls Day inspires me maybe even more.

All Saints Day is about those archaic people who make us think of heaven.  All Souls Day is about the people here on earth, who help us live, and grow in our faith, and become the people God knows we can be.  So, on this day, we honor those whom we love but see no longer.  May they continue to be a blessing in our lives, and in our memories, until the day we are reunited with them into the glorious company of saints in everlasting light.

Amen.