December 23, 2018. On this Fourth Sunday in Advent, Pastor Stephanie preaches on reasons to be hopeful, the Magnificat, and the arc of the moral universe bending toward justice. *** Transcript *** I first heard the proclamation on the radio in the morning news several days ago: Merriam-Webster declared that its chosen word of the year for 2018 is "justice." Peter Sokolowski, editor-at-large, explained to the Associated Press why this word was chosen. "Searches for 'justice' throughout the year, when compared to 2017, were up 74% on the site that has more than a million page views a month and nearly half a million entries. To be word of the year worthy, an entry has to show both a high volume of traffic and a significant year over year increase in lookups," he said. "We are not editorializing. We looked at our data and we were ourselves surprised by this word. This is a word that people have been clearly thinking about for this entire year." Why would you suppose this would be the case? Yes, there was the Supreme Court Justice nomination and confirmation process that dominated the news for weeks. And yes, there is the ongoing story of the Mueller investigation, with the various courts of justice involved. Both of those undoubtedly prompted many of the lookups. But also, Sokolowski noted that there are verifiably more stories and op-ed articles with a high degree of reader interest on where we are in this country in the areas of criminal justice, racial justice, and social justice in general. These are hopeful signs. At least I want to believe that the curiosity in referencing this word is borne out of a longing for true justice to reign. Don't you hope for the same thing? I think we have reason to hope for what is happening. There is a deep restlessness to see justice given and received as normative. For justice to describe the way things are rather than merely what we feel they should be. Well, the theme of justice in Mary's song in our gospel reading, commonly called the Magnificat, is unmistakably present. Mary praises God for scattering the proud, for bringing down the powerful from their thrones, and lifting up the lowly. Mary's song celebrates that the least of these, the lowliest and the humblest, are lifted up, while the injustices perpetrated by the high and mighty will come to an end. You've probably heard the phrase "those who sing pray twice." There's something about a song that reaches us to the depths of our being. A song can put into words what we are often incapable of expressing in other ways, and Mary's voice echoes throughout the years as a refrain of hope, joy, and praising God for reorienting actions of justice. She voices the hearts and minds of generations of people for whom injustice has long been the norm. She uses verbs that indicate that there is a reason to hope in the present, that God has already done marvelous things like bringing down powerful ones from their thrones and filling the hungry with good things. She sees that God is also currently showing mercy for those who honor him. When my husband shared an article with me a few days ago, I could not help but see how it illuminates God bringing justice around the world. Even if the author did not use the phrase we use in the ELCA, "God's work, our hands," his conclusions are the result of many, many hands engaged around the world to bring about God-inspired justice. The article is titled "Four Reasons to Be Hopeful," and it starts out by saying that 2018 has not been an easy year in many senses. Kind of an understatement, I thought. But I kept reading because I'm a sucker for anything that promises hopeful news. The author writes, "Under the radar, some aspects of life on earth are getting dramatically better." I will share three of the reasons here. Extreme poverty is falling. You've probably heard over the years, and the decades actually, that millions of people in underdeveloped countries have been living on roughly one to two dollars per day,

December 2, 2018. Be prepared, for Jesus is coming. Jon Heerboth preaches on this first day of Advent about the preparations we Christians make for the Christmas celebration. *** Transcript *** Be prepared, for Jesus is coming. It's the first Sunday in Advent, as we've been hearing all morning. And for us it's the beginning of a new church year and the time when we prepare for Christmas, which is our celebration of the first coming of Jesus Christ. When I think about getting ready for Christmas, I think about the little baby Jesus in the manger, the stable, the peaceful quiet night, the choir of angels, the pretty things that make me want to go home and set up my tree and my humble decorations and get out my Christmas Lego. I don't think about things that are mentioned in the lesson today. So we have to be prepared because there are no gentle images in today's gospel lesson. In fact, those images are anything but gentle. They're pretty brutal, and they were pretty brutal in Luke's time as well, when he read them. The people who heard this story from Luke the first time were worried, because the city of Jerusalem had been destroyed and the temple had been sacked, and the walls were pulled down stone by stone. It was a complete disaster. But today, it's not the helpless infant, but more of that. Images of the Son of Man coming in a cloud with power and great glory. In the Christmas story, we see almost a paradox. The humble baby Jesus and then in today's gospel, the coming in clouds. Power and might. Glory. Maybe the destruction of the earth. God keeping the rest of his promises. And so we have to be prepared, because as Jesus tells us in Luke, the signs are all around us. Signs in the sun, the moon, the stars. Signs in the news, in shootings, in tragedies. Earthquakes in Alaska. Fires in California. Mayhem everywhere. Corruption. Hunger. And if you look at today's Post Dispatch, homelessness. Signs in the distress in families. Signs in the tragedies caused by a warming planet. What in the world is going on? What's the world coming to, we ask? Well, what happens to you when you're frightened, when you're pressed down or dismayed? I know sometimes we can't even concentrate because of what Jesus called the "roaring of the sea and the waves," or to us, the many distractions and stresses of our lives in a sinful world. We even have trouble in the month of December just getting ready for the Christmas holiday, which should be a time of peace and joy and families thinking about the first coming of Jesus Christ. It seems like everything can be difficult. In verse 26 today, Jesus said that people will faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaking. What is my life coming to? I ask when I'm weighed down by cares and worries. I might walk more slowly. My shoulders sag. I might be burdened by my own actions or behaviors that I wish I could set aside. Earlier in chapter 21, Luke warned that things will not be easy as the end times approach. They're not going to be easy for Christians, either. Our lives will fall apart, he said. We will face hostility from neighbors, legal problems even, or even conflict within our own families. But for us though -- and this is almost a paradox -- all of these signs, all of these troubles, all of these trials in our lives point to Christ. When these things happen, our redemption is drawing near. Now, redemption already came to us in the past once and for all, with the birth, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Now that redemption is available to us, now and into the future. Even though the world around us may fall apart, that's not a sign of God's absence or lack of concern for us. We are still God's people. We have the promise of God's presence in our midst, even in the middle of all of our problems that we face from day to day. Now after Jesus listed all the depressing signs in his world, he stopped for a minute and spoke to his listeners

November 10, 2019. What if death is a second birth? Pastor Stephanie's sermon today is about the Sadducees trying to box Jesus in with a ridiculous question, to which they think they know the answer. But Jesus doesn't take the bait, and instead teaches about the different kind of relational life we will enter in the next life. *** Transcript *** Now, I'm no lawyer. But I've heard enough about the role of trial lawyers to know that they largely live by this rule: never ever ask a question to which you do not know the answer. That should probably be a rule that people who give children's messages should also live by. Can you imagine asking an open-ended question, and then having the enthusiastic children give a multitude of answers that may or may not be related to the question? I know I've done it. You hear me do it. And children, I am only saying this in a joking kind of way. I actually really enjoy hearing what's on your minds. So please, whenever I ask the question, I do like to hear your answers. Just for the sake of time though, we can't always hear all the things that you have to say. So sorry about that. Maybe we can try and catch up downstairs after the service. The truth is, as we give children's messages it is too true that we are often fishing for some specific answers that we want to elicit. So we do think we know the answers that we want to hear, before we ask the question. I could really step into dangerous territory, by mentioning how this business of asking questions to which we already at least think we know the answer goes awry between married couples. For example, one couple might inquire of the other, "Who told our daughter that she could stay out until 1:00am tonight, hmm?" Or, "Who said we'd go on vacation with your family for a whole week? I don't think it was me." Well, that line of questioning isn't very effective, is it? Or very wise. In most cases in life I like questions where people are genuinely curious to know more, to learn something, to find out about another person, what he or she thinks or feels and why that is so. I imagine you appreciate those kinds of questions better, too. It seems to me that Luke, in our gospel reading today, goes to great lengths to express the various ways in which questions were posed to Jesus throughout his ministry. People came to him in chapter 10 and said, "Who is my neighbor?" seemingly wanting to understand that commandment better. So, Jesus happily obliged them with a story about a Good Samaritan that made a point, one that stretched them for sure, but it was a great and helpful answer. In chapter 11 the disciples say, "Would you teach us to pray?" and there we have the Lord's Prayer. Helpful question, helpful answer. But now, deep into Luke's gospel, we enter a realm something more like a courtroom scene, where the questioners are less interested in learning something than they are in entrapment. These questioners pose their queries in ways that are designed to box Jesus in. They are crafty like that. No matter how he answers, one group will cheer him and the other group, they figure, will despise him. So in chapter 20 alone, on two occasions they pose questions that will force Jesus, they think, to say something that will rile the crowds. First they ask him by what authority does he teach, and then they ask him whether it is lawful to pay taxes to Caesar. Both intended to divide. In each case, Jesus gives a straightforward answer that does not play into their hands, but is clear enough to those who are willing to ponder the meaning of his answers. Now we come to today's gospel reading, and the religious group called the Sadducees are pulling out all the stops. They pose a question to Jesus in which they think they know the answer. It's about the resurrection, and they are known for not believing in the resurrection. They're also known as the scribes meaning that they are considered quite the experts on all things in the Torah, the books of the law. So they dra

November 25, 2018. How do you respond to authority? Pastor Stephanie preaches on John 18 and the interaction between Pilate and Jesus, two people who each have authority vested in them. *** Transcript *** I have a question for you: How do you respond to authority? Don't worry, it's a rhetorical question, since I can't go row by row getting your responses right now. Even if I could, there would be many of you who would probably say, "Well, it's complicated." It's a difficult thing to answer, and I completely understand that. After working with a very authoritarian pastor in my first seminary fieldwork experience until I could take it no longer, I learned that I have authority issues. Never had to think too much about that before that year. And thankfully I had professionals around me who could help me to process the interior work that I needed to do around that issue. It did help to soften it some, to know that other seminary students had had issues with that same pastor. And so after my experience, the seminary little longer sent any students over to that pastor to work with him. But still, since I was bound to encounter others who exerted authority in the same manner in which this guy did, in ministry and in life in general, I had to learn and grow from that experience. Even with the self-reflection I took on after that, that is not to say that all of my authority issues have been resolved. I'm still a work in progress on that, and in so many other ways. We may like to think that not many people do have authority over us, because we like to emphasize our freedom and our autonomy, don't we? I'm reminded of the time when our oldest son expressed so emphatically one day when he got home from school, "I am the boss of me." If you're a parent, you'll know how glad we were to hear that. It took a little debriefing for Phil and me to understand where that had come from. But as we talked with Andrew more, we began to understand that his class had been listening to the school counselor that day, and she was helping them to understand boundaries of how to operate and respond with strangers. That all made perfect sense, and I was grateful for that reinforcement of what we were also teaching him. But it didn't mean that his father and I were less authority figures than we had been before that day. Because it is complicated to figure out how we relate to those in authority over us, the interaction between Pilate and Jesus in John 18 is intriguing, if we stop to analyze it. These are two people who each have authority vested in them. They are each called by various names by those around them and many of the titles imply elevated leadership, even though the power dynamics in this instance seem very unequal. Pilate seems to loom larger, since from a purely human point of view it would appear that he holds Jesus' future in his hands. But let's look at this as objectively as we can. Pilate has subjects who follow based on coercion, and structures set up for him to be obeyed or else. We don't even want to know what that might mean. But Jesus has followers who come by way of invitation and response. Pilate has soldiers all around his palace that would do his bidding on command, in an instant. Jesus is standing all alone before him with no apparent support system, much less foot soldiers nearby. Pilate is in control of this interview, yet he is the one who is threatened by Jesus. He must inquire as to whether Jesus does claim to be a king, as his followers have designated him, whether or not Jesus is guilty of committing any crimes. The one thing Pilate wants to know most of all: is this guy a threat to me and my authority? We've all known people like that, haven't we? Jesus, by contrast, is not threatened by Pilate in the least. He is calm, he is confident, and he speaks with authority that allows him to turn the question of whether he is the king of the Jews back to the questioner. "Do you ask this on your own, or have others suggested this to

November 4, 2018. Pastor Stephanie's sermon on this All Saints' Sunday recalls the many kindnesses of others who have lifted us up by their words of encouragement and their actions of love, the saints of God with skin on. *** Transcript *** Once again today during our worship service, we will be repeating the words of the Apostles' Creed together, as you see in your bulletin. If some here are not familiar with it, it helps to know that it is the most ecumenical of all Christian creeds, meaning it's widely accepted among the various denominations as containing essential truths about the nature of God and elements of our faith. In the last paragraph there's a phrase that I'm going to highlight today, since it's All Saints' Sunday. That phrase, as you're probably guessing if you're scanning ahead in your memory, is the one that affirms belief in the "communion of saints." Perhaps it's been said so often that we don't stop to think about it very much, regarding that particular phrase as we say it together. I will admit that growing up, I didn't ever think that phrase had very much to do with me. I figured we were just referring to that special relationship that those bigger than life super Christian-types labeled as "saints" must have had with each other. My concept was that they were on some kind of higher spiritual plain -- lower than Jesus but way, way higher than the rest of us -- in some kind of spiritual hierarchy. That kept me from sensing that this phrase had anything to do with me, or people that I knew. Eventually though, I learned that the New Testament refers to the people who form the Christian community, the baptized and the called, as "saints" over 50 times. The idea still took some getting used to, because we're not commonly used to calling each other saints in our everyday life, even within the church. After all, the very word "saint" means holy one, and that's hard for us to accept as a designation for ourselves, isn't it? As is often the case though, the way we use the word "holy" in our daily conversations isn't really what is meant in the New Testament language. Throughout the New Testament the word for saint, hagios, refers to Christians, whatever their personal sanctity or holiness might be as individuals, being called "holy" because they are made holy by the redeeming work of Christ on their behalf. That changes the way we look at ourselves and others significantly. If we realize that we are made holy and that other people have been made holy too by Christ, then our relationships are more communion, or interacting, or a deep fellowship with one another, than they are mere friendships. If we are related to each other primarily through God who made us, that's a closer relationship than even parent-child, siblings, or even marriage relationships. God is in the midst of our relationships, uniting and bonding us together. The vision in the Book of Revelation helps here. It says, "The home of God is among mortals. He will dwell with them. They will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them." Here it might be helpful to imagine a triangle, with God at the apex and then the two angles on the bottom -- one consisting of you and me, of ourselves individually, and the other angle perhaps of all the people who have gone before us, who are living today, those who have yet to be born. And so there's a kind of a dance going on in which we are all connected, communing with one another simply because God is communicating with us and has chosen to be in the midst of us. The communion of saints then, is a joyful, hopeful dance where the influence we've had from being in the dance with God rubs off on one another, and their influence certainly rubs off on us. As father Henri Nouwen once wrote, the ground between us then is sacred ground, because the Christ in me recognizes the Christ in you. Or, as Martin Luther taught, we are all little Christs interacting with each other. Now, God has come near to us in many forms, a

October 28, 2018. Pastor Stephanie considers different ways to relate the story of Bartimaeus to the Reformation, in her sermon today. *** Transcript *** So as we've said, it's Reformation Sunday. And that should mean something, shouldn't it? I know those of you who were here last year commemorated this in nearly every conceivable way, according to the reports I got, as the 500th anniversary of Martin Luther posting his 95 Theses on the door at Wittenberg Castle was observed. My husband Phil and I joined in with several friends at the worship service that was held in the Basilica as part of that commemoration. So, even though we're operating on a little smaller scale this year in 501, it seems that we should be remembering what prompted the Reformation in the first place. The appointed gospel reading is of course the story of Bartimaeus receiving his sight. I guess we might look at this interesting story of the blind man, Bartimaeus, who calls out to Jesus, for some way to see how that might be attached to Reformation Sunday. Just like when we read any gospel story, we can get hooked on one aspect or another and wonder what it is about that aspect that calls to us. This is a short reading, and yet I saw several things that might be good food for thought. We could look at the name "Bartimaeus," for example. You know that "bar" in Hebrew means son, and "mitzvah" means commandment. So if you're invited to someone's bar mitzvah, that means it's about son of commandment and bat mitzvah means daughter of commandment. So Bartimaeus the son of Timaeus is spelled out in that way. Here's where it gets interesting: "Timaeus" can be interpreted in a couple of different ways. In Aramaic, one of the languages in the New Testament, it means defilement or dishonor. The listeners who heard this story originally would have also realized that in Greek the word means honor. So Bartimaeus could then mean son of honor. This guy is simultaneously a son of honor and a son of dishonor. Isn't that the story of all humankind, really though, the state in which each one of us find ourselves some parts worthy of honor, some parts not so much? When we are honest with ourselves, it's the mixture that we all have within ourselves. But that's not the primary theme of the sermon. We could look more carefully at the response of the crowd, including the disciples, to the cries of this blind man. There was not much compassion given. They tell him to be quiet. If you've been on this journey with us through the Gospel of Mark, you've already seen plenty of instances where the disciples are just not getting it. They don't know what Jesus is about yet. So they've been telling people not to bring children up to Jesus, and now they want to keep a blind man away from Jesus. Well, we've had enough on this topic too, so that's not the theme of the sermon either. Here's another aspect we could consider. Maybe we could consider the part about Bartimaeus throwing off his cloak. He springs up and he goes to Jesus, leaving his cloak behind. Now, that detail must be there for a reason. What does this cloak signify? Could it be that he is leaving behind the only security as a beggar that he has known? He's probably spread out his cloak in front of him at the roadside, receiving gifts and alms that people have dropped on his cloak over and over again. So is this his act of faith that he isn't going to need his cloak anymore, since he's so sure Jesus will help him? Interesting to consider, but still not the main subject of this sermon. Because as I've said, this is Reformation Sunday, and I hope you take away from this service another point. It's something that transformed the way Martin Luther viewed his relationship with God and wanted everyone to focus on, more than the outward rituals of religion. And that is that it's God's desire to lavish grace and mercy on us, not because we deserve it, but because God is love and wants so deeply to have a vibrant relationship with us throu

October 21, 2018. Pastor Stephanie talks about her recent trip to Georgia, and reminds us that the path to true greatness is not having the places of honor, but rather living lives of service in gratitude to God. And that we are also invited to take that path. *** Transcript *** I'm really, really happy to be back with you this morning after a rather busy week of travel. It was certainly eventful, and I'd love to tell you more about it as time goes on. In fact, I could pretty much guarantee you'll be hearing some illustrations and examples of some of the experiences that we had, over time. I don't expect you to know all the details of the arrangements that were made when I accepted your council's invitation to serve as your resident interim pastor, but there were already several items on my calendar for my previous church calling. And the last one was checked off this week. You provided me the time off to do this, but the finances were paid by Christ's Church in St. Peter's for Phil and me to use our remaining continuing education monies from our time at that church. You see, several months ago we became aware of a retreat that was only going to be held this past week. And so we applied those monies toward that, as we had planned to do a deep dive into some civil rights sites and the National Memorial for Peace and Justice in Montgomery, Alabama. Along with 28 others, we participated in a retreat process that took place from Sunday through Wednesday. It was a very, very moving experience. So naturally, we were exposed to many of the writings and speeches of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. The very last sermon he delivered at the Ebenezer Baptist Church in Atlanta, Georgia on February 4th, 1968 -- two months before he was killed in Memphis, I noticed -- was on the same gospel passage we have today. And the message as he entitled it was "The Drum Major Instinct." In it, he described the desire that each of us has to be significant, which often means we want to stand out. We want to be in front. We want to be noticed and recognized for our achievements. You know, like the drum major of your high school band or college marching band. Apologies to any one of you who might have been a drum major or majorette, because I'm not putting them down. Just saying that that is a role in which a person stands out. That person has a responsible position and gets noticed by all. But we all have a natural instinct to want to be a standout. What child does not have a big dream of being someone special? A tremendously talented singer perhaps, or a world-class athlete, or maybe a leader throughout the country or world who is going to make peace and harmony for people. Even as we grow older, we realize that we probably aren't going to be quite as outstanding as our youthful ambitions would have told us. But we still want to see ourselves as being great at something or another. That is the drum major instinct. And that is how Dr. Martin Luther King depicted this very gospel reading we have before us today. Jesus' disciples James and John, the sons of Zebedee, had some pretty strong drum major instincts too. At least one brother didn't try in this place to outdo the other. That undoubtedly, in my experience, probably showed up somewhere else in their lives. After all, I have four siblings myself. I helped to raise three sons and usually there's some jockeying for position among siblings as to which one will be a little bit ahead of another. Perhaps you don't know anything about that, but many of us do. But here, James and John approached Jesus for a favor. They each want to be in positions of honor next to Jesus -- one on each side, equal really -- but each side of Jesus when he is glorified. Now, the desire to be great isn't really bad in and of itself. We just don't always know what it means to be great until we spend some time, a lot of it in fact, in the school of Jesus' teaching. Notice how Jesus does not chastise them for their request. Instead, he

November 3, 2019. On this All Saints' Day, Pastor Stephanie's message is about the gifts of inestimable value we have all inherited. *** Transcript *** Grace to you and peace from God the Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. The year was 1981. In September of that year, my maternal grandmother died peacefully at age 91. She had lived a very full life. I grew up not only near to my grandmother geographically, but also felt that we were of kindred spirit, so near and dear to me was she in so very many ways. As grandchildren do, I went off to another state to further my education, and later settled into a new home and life with my husband about four hours away from where Grandma lived. So, many visits with her from that point on were infrequent, though still very precious. Long before she made her end-of-life decisions, she became very definite about possessions of hers that she wanted me to have, as she said as a remembrance of me. I remember her saying that often, but I didn't want to dwell on that theme with her. So I barely gave that part of our conversations much thought. Then the time came when we received the phone call that Grandma had gone to be with the Lord. (Such was the language that was used in my family, because saying that someone had died was just too hard, and inserting a statement of faith seemed the right thing to do. It was, after all, what we believed, so is right and proper to announce her passing in that way.) The funeral was a beautiful testimony to her long life of trusting in God, as a young immigrant from the Netherlands, starting her married life in Iowa in a farming community, and raising five children through the Great Depression. Her courage and faith were put to the test even more during that time, when she lost her husband (my grandfather) when her youngest child (my mother) was only four years old. Through many adversities she held on and displayed deep gratitude to her God for helping her through. Actively involved in ladies service circles, she had made her imprint in her local church and community and would be missed, her pastor said. We gave God thanks for the fulfillment of her baptism and the hope of the resurrection that was hers. During the luncheon that followed the funeral, I was busily introducing my husband to extended family members who had not yet met him, and talking with longtime family friends. At some point, Phil asked me where some of the family members had gone because they were obviously no longer present. We said goodbye to those still remaining, got into our car, and drove over to Grandma's house. In my naiveté I expected to see people relaxing in the living room, continuing to reminisce about good times with Grandma. But through the large living room window, I could see from the street instead that there was some scurrying about going on as people were picking up objects they wanted to claim. I looked at Phil in dismay and said just keep on driving. So back to our home we went. I never did get the rings or other personal effects Grandma said she wanted me to have. But while I was deeply disappointed in the behaviors of some of my relatives at the time, I have always remembered what my grandmother gave to me that was priceless. I may not have inherited jewelry or nice household items from her, but I inherited something far more valuable from her. Something no one could ever snatch away from me. I witnessed the depth and the steadiness of her trust in God, who she told me had provided for her, had comforted her, and had been her truest companion throughout her life. Her well-worn Bible from which she read to me, and the sincerity of her prayers as she prayed with and for me and for so many others, showed me a faith in Christ that was alive and dynamic -- not merely a set of beliefs, but a living relationship. My inheritance from Grandmother was worth more than anything any amount of money at all could buy. You have your own stories of people whose faith has nurtured and inspir

September 30, 2018. Jon Heerboth preaches on Philippians 1:18. We may have many points of view about our best way forward here at Christ Lutheran. Our agreement though should be just like Paul said. "What does it matter? Just this, that Christ is proclaimed in every way, whether out of false motives or true, and in that I rejoice." *** Transcript *** If I were in a classroom instead of in a church today, I would say that we're going to have a brief review here before we start the lesson for today. Last week we heard Jesus explain that he would be put to death, and three days later he would rise again. But the disciples didn't know what he was talking about. They didn't understand him and they were afraid to ask, so instead they were arguing about who of them was the greatest. Jesus sat them down and explained that whoever wanted to be first must be last of all and servant of all, and then he picked up a small child and held the child in his arms and said that whoever welcomed the child welcomed Jesus, and the one who sent Jesus. Now, in today's gospel Jesus is still holding the child. He still has the child in his arms while he's talking with his disciples. But John interrupted Jesus to report that some other healer had been casting out demons in the name of Jesus. The disciples went and told him to stop it because he was not one of them. "You can't use Jesus' name unless you're one of us," they said. Now you can imagine the disciples gathering around Jesus closely to hear what he had to say about this. Jesus began to speak, but he could see that they weren't getting it. He had to make his point three times. "Do not stop him, for no one who does a deed of power in my name will be able to soon afterwards speak evil of me. Whoever is not against us is for us. For truly I tell you, whoever gives you a cup of water to drink because you bear the name of Christ will by no means lose the reward." Jesus had to work hard to make that point to the disciples, but it's a point that we need to hear as well. We are used to hearing phrases like, "If you're not for me you're against me." Pro or con. X or not x. No middle ground. The problem is that this kind of thinking excludes so many people, and Jesus turns it on its head: "Whoever is not against us is for us." Just the opposite of the way we often think. With these words, Jesus moves us from excluding people to being inclusive, from suspicion to welcome, from left out to invited in. The love of Jesus and the power of God can cut through this "friend or foe" thinking, so that we can welcome almost everyone into our fold. My dad related his experience years ago, before Lutherans were talking about working together as church bodies. It was 1949, just four years after the end of World War II, when my parents arrived in Sapporo, Japan to begin their careers as missionaries. Shortly after they arrived, Dad and his good friend Paul were invited to a prayer group of Japanese Christians. Dad said they really wanted to attend the meeting, but they were troubled and a little worried because none of the attendees was Lutheran, and they were not permitted to pray with people of other denominations. Dad and Paul decided that they would attend the prayer meeting, but they were worried that a very strict colleague might create a problem for them by reporting to the mission board in St. Louis. So, Dad and Paul went and they were introduced to a group of Japanese Christians. Dad said that each one introduced himself with a name and his former Christian denomination. "I am of Baptist antecedent." "I am of Methodist antecedent." "I am of Roman Catholic antecedent," and so forth. Before World War II these Japanese Christians stayed with their denominational groups, but when the war started it turned out the secret police didn't ask their denomination. They all got locked up together for the duration of the war. "When they came for us, they came because we were Christian." Denomination became irrelevant to the

September 23, 2018. Hospitality toward others is the way to welcoming God more fully into our lives. When Jesus' disciples argued about which of them would be greatest, he showed them what greatness meant by welcoming a child. Pastor Stephanie preaches on just how radical a thought this would have been for the disciples, and invites us to break down walls to welcome others into our lives. *** Transcript *** I imagine that many of you are familiar with the side of Jesus that wasn't what we'd call "meek and mild," right? Like for instance, the time that we read that he came into the temple and looked around, didn't like what he saw, so he started tossing some tables upside down. Yeah, he didn't much like how people were being exploited, so he made a rather dramatic show of his displeasure. Admit it, you love that, don't you? You love Jesus going and getting 'em and telling 'em what's right and what's wrong, as long as those aren't our tables. We love it that Jesus stands up for the little people against authorities that are taking advantage of them. I would also love to read a story about Jesus knocking down some walls. I mean, walls divide people all the time. And we like to talk about building bridges rather than building walls. So, walls that divide have to go. Wouldn't it be cool for Jesus to tear down a few? You who love action films have to be with me on this one: Jesus takes a karate chop or two and demolishes a barrier that the big shots have constructed to keep their own kind in and everyone else out. I'm sure you have an idea or two yourself how you'd like to see Jesus go about this. Well, I might invite you then to sit down for an hour or two some time and read through the entire Gospel of Mark, and look for the many ways that Jesus does at least three things. He turns things upside down. He knocks down preconceptions. And he challenges conventional thinking. If you do that, I'm guaranteeing that you will find a pretty good-sized list of his words that do just that. These stories may not show a literal turning of objects upside down like tables, but they do an effective job of causing people to go, "What's that again, Jesus? You might have to run that past me again, because that isn't how things really go in this world." Jesus was a master of knocking down walls that we build to keep our own ways of thinking and operating in, and his ways of operating out. That is pretty much the case when his disciples are walking along with him while he is talking about the suffering, dying, and rising again that he will be doing in the near future. Apparently, all they are hearing is the "wah wah." That happens sometimes, because this is not something that they want to hear about. Instead, they've been having their own little discussion walking behind him. Knowing this but calling them out on it, when they get to the house in Capernaum where they'll be staying, Jesus asked, "What was that that you were arguing about while you were walking behind me?" We aren't told that anyone admitted to what they've been arguing over and that it was about who would be the greatest in the Kingdom that they just knew that Jesus was ushering in. In fact, the gospel writer Mark says they were silent because they did not want to own up to their aspirations for greatness. So can't you just imagine Jesus sighing once again and sitting them down to have a little lesson? This is how I imagine the conversation going based on the parts that we do have recorded before us: "Okay, now as you know," Jesus says, "I've been teaching you about how different God's ways are than human ways. You think you know what greatness is, but..." ( And I insert my own comment here. This could be easily addressed to our own contemporary culture, couldn't it? How little our society has learned over the years. It's hard now to even use the word "greatness" for things that actually are great, since "Make America Great Again" has become a thing -- and a thing that demonstrates anyt