OK, it's taking longer than I thought, but here are four more and the rest are on their way. If you're curious what Brett Favre and Lazarus have in common or Joe DiMaggio and the apostle Thomas, it's here to ponder.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
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OK, it's taking longer than I thought, but here are four more and the rest are on their way. If you're curious what Brett Favre and Lazarus have in common or Joe DiMaggio and the apostle Thomas, it's here to ponder.
That Disappearing Jesus
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Readings:
Acts 2:14a,36-41
1 Peter 1:17-23
Luke 24:13-35
Jesus on the road to Emmaus is a rich piece of art. We can often be looking at it and not see all its subtlety and texture. In the breaking of the bread, it’s Jesus. No, it’s a wafer.
Jesus doesn’t always show up as we’d expect.
Pastor Johnson concedes that he loves “that disappearing Jesus” … now you see Him … now you don’t!!
It begs the question, “Why did not the disciples recognize Him?”
One of the problems we have in not knowing Jesus is that He doesn’t expect perfection in us. He knows us intimately in our brokenness, at our best and at our worst, in the sacred and the secular.
Archaeologists can’t say, exactly, where the actual physical road to Emmaus lies. What Jesus’ disciples discover is that …
The road to Emmaus is NOT a place you find … it’s one you’re already in!
Fredrick Buechner, a favorite of Pastor Johnson’s, put it aptly:
“And where was Emmaus? And why dd they go there? It is no place in particular really, and the only reason that they went there was that it was some seven miles distant from a situation that had become unbearable. Emmaus can be a trip to the movies just for the sake of seeing a movie or to a cocktail party just for the sake of the cocktails. Emmaus may be buying a new suit or a new car or smoking more cigarettes than you really want, or reading a second-rate novel or even writing one. Emmaus is whatever we do or wherever we go to make ourselves forget that the world holds nothing sacred”
Whenever it seems like there’s nothing else you can do, no more you can bear, when it seems you can’t bear the weight of it anymore, it’s time to hit the road to Emmaus.
We all have been there … where it’s all muck ‘n mire, the cold and frightened and twisted places in our lives.
We like to stick Jesus on Easter Sunday and leave Him there.
But, truth is, on Monday morning, before 7 a.m. there’s a little kid spillin' milk all over his sister and Jesus is there mopping it up. He’s there in The Everyday and we don’t recognize Him still. Buechner says we may be like the disciples in more ways than one. He surmises the disciples might not have recognized Jesus when he returned, in part, because they failed to recognize Him when He was alive in their presence. And that because they had not seen Him as He actually was, but, rather, as they had wanted him to be. Sound familiar?
God is too big to be contained in any one form. He looks like the young man, the angel, the gardner, the fisherman, the stranger, the alien. In the movie “Oh, God”, George Burns comments on humans not expecting him to look as He appeared to them.
“I figured a fishing cap and jeans would do. What were you expecting? I tried the sandal and robe gig. It worked back then, but it wasn’t right today.”
The ending of the movie is quite poignant when, as God is walking away across a field of grass, He simply disappears. The point of the Disappearing Jesus is that …
God reveals Himself by hiding!
He appears under contrary appearances. Jesus is everywhere, but you can’t hold onto Him in only one form. He’s bigger than that.
Pastor Johnson read Billy Collins poem Questions About Angels in which Collins pens:
If an angel delivered the mail, would he arrive in a blinding rush of wings or would he just assume the appearance of a regular mailman, & whistle up the driveway, reading the postcards.
Pastor Johnson shared a personal story of a weekend some time ago. Within the last 48 hours, he had gotten word that his Dad was very ill and his best friend was diagnosed with a fatal illness. It was the week of Vacation Bible School in his previous parish. The goings-on of the kids was just too much happiness to bear for him. He had retired to his office. He shut the door and with it, shut out the world. He was on the road to Emmaus. After reminiscing, crying and preparing his sermon, he heard a knock at the door. He ignored it – didn’t want to hear it. The knock came again, and again it persisted. He answered and in came a 15 year old, a Confirmation student he remembered well. She had come to help out with VBS. She was mute with a terribly misshapen head from a traumatic birth. But, he recalled, she never missed a single Confirmation class. She never once spoke. Pastor Johnson was surprised to see her. Drained of energy, he wondered why she was there. She said nothing for 5 minutes that was an hour if nothing longer. And then she hugged him – an enveloping bear hug – and it came out of nowhere. Now you see it, now you don’t.
Like the disciples on their road to Emmaus, he didn’t get it, Pastor Johnson confessed.
“But – to this day – 24 years later, my heart is still burning."
Such is life with The Disappearing Jesus on the Road to Emmaus.
Readings:
Acts 2:14a,36-41
1 Peter 1:17-23
Luke 24:13-35
Jesus on the road to Emmaus is a rich piece of art. We can often be looking at it and not see all its subtlety and texture. In the breaking of the bread, it’s Jesus. No, it’s a wafer.
Jesus doesn’t always show up as we’d expect.
Pastor Johnson concedes that he loves “that disappearing Jesus” … now you see Him … now you don’t!!
It begs the question, “Why did not the disciples recognize Him?”
One of the problems we have in not knowing Jesus is that He doesn’t expect perfection in us. He knows us intimately in our brokenness, at our best and at our worst, in the sacred and the secular.
Archaeologists can’t say, exactly, where the actual physical road to Emmaus lies. What Jesus’ disciples discover is that …
The road to Emmaus is NOT a place you find … it’s one you’re already in!
Fredrick Buechner, a favorite of Pastor Johnson’s, put it aptly:
“And where was Emmaus? And why dd they go there? It is no place in particular really, and the only reason that they went there was that it was some seven miles distant from a situation that had become unbearable. Emmaus can be a trip to the movies just for the sake of seeing a movie or to a cocktail party just for the sake of the cocktails. Emmaus may be buying a new suit or a new car or smoking more cigarettes than you really want, or reading a second-rate novel or even writing one. Emmaus is whatever we do or wherever we go to make ourselves forget that the world holds nothing sacred”
Whenever it seems like there’s nothing else you can do, no more you can bear, when it seems you can’t bear the weight of it anymore, it’s time to hit the road to Emmaus.
We all have been there … where it’s all muck ‘n mire, the cold and frightened and twisted places in our lives.
We like to stick Jesus on Easter Sunday and leave Him there.
But, truth is, on Monday morning, before 7 a.m. there’s a little kid spillin' milk all over his sister and Jesus is there mopping it up. He’s there in The Everyday and we don’t recognize Him still. Buechner says we may be like the disciples in more ways than one. He surmises the disciples might not have recognized Jesus when he returned, in part, because they failed to recognize Him when He was alive in their presence. And that because they had not seen Him as He actually was, but, rather, as they had wanted him to be. Sound familiar?
God is too big to be contained in any one form. He looks like the young man, the angel, the gardner, the fisherman, the stranger, the alien. In the movie “Oh, God”, George Burns comments on humans not expecting him to look as He appeared to them.
“I figured a fishing cap and jeans would do. What were you expecting? I tried the sandal and robe gig. It worked back then, but it wasn’t right today.”
The ending of the movie is quite poignant when, as God is walking away across a field of grass, He simply disappears. The point of the Disappearing Jesus is that …
God reveals Himself by hiding!
He appears under contrary appearances. Jesus is everywhere, but you can’t hold onto Him in only one form. He’s bigger than that.
Pastor Johnson read Billy Collins poem Questions About Angels in which Collins pens:
If an angel delivered the mail, would he arrive in a blinding rush of wings or would he just assume the appearance of a regular mailman, & whistle up the driveway, reading the postcards.
Pastor Johnson shared a personal story of a weekend some time ago. Within the last 48 hours, he had gotten word that his Dad was very ill and his best friend was diagnosed with a fatal illness. It was the week of Vacation Bible School in his previous parish. The goings-on of the kids was just too much happiness to bear for him. He had retired to his office. He shut the door and with it, shut out the world. He was on the road to Emmaus. After reminiscing, crying and preparing his sermon, he heard a knock at the door. He ignored it – didn’t want to hear it. The knock came again, and again it persisted. He answered and in came a 15 year old, a Confirmation student he remembered well. She had come to help out with VBS. She was mute with a terribly misshapen head from a traumatic birth. But, he recalled, she never missed a single Confirmation class. She never once spoke. Pastor Johnson was surprised to see her. Drained of energy, he wondered why she was there. She said nothing for 5 minutes that was an hour if nothing longer. And then she hugged him – an enveloping bear hug – and it came out of nowhere. Now you see it, now you don’t.
Like the disciples on their road to Emmaus, he didn’t get it, Pastor Johnson confessed.
“But – to this day – 24 years later, my heart is still burning."
Such is life with The Disappearing Jesus on the Road to Emmaus.
Jesus and the Yankee Clipper
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Readings:
Acts 2:14a, 22-32
1 Peter 1:3-9
John 20:19-31
The week immediately following Easter Sunday is sometimes dubbed Low Sunday – low attendance, low energy, low emotion levels. But a wekk later Jesus, again, greets his disciples in the same way. Why?
Maybe it’s because the Easter season is not a single day. Pastor Mohn paints a picture of what is in “the continuing” on after that eclipsing Sunday morning. Why is it important that Jesus continue to return, in a sense??
It is clear that Jesus returned on Easter in a mountain top experience, but he’s back today. And he’s back for Thomas, a repeat performance, if you will. Why?
Pastor Mohn gives us two good reasons:
He’s back for Thomas. He’s back because Jesus will continue to return for every last sheep, even the very last one. Jesus needs to be there in person for Thomas and so he comes. I had a great Professor in my undergraduate studies of mechanics. His name was Harry Conway. I remember a lot about him, but one of the many things that will always stick with me was his answer when asked why he spent so much time with students. He said, “Well, first, I don’t spend so much time with the A students because they don’t need me. It’s the B & C students I long for because they need me.” And Thomas needs to see Jesus … and so He comes. For Thomas, THIS is the 1st time he’s seeing Jesus so for Thomas TODAY is Easter Sunday, the day he sees the risen Lord. Thomas can truly say “This is MY 1st time seeing Him.”
As I heard Pastor Mohn say these words, it evoked memories of Joltin’ Joe DiMaggio.
It’s reported that when a reporter pointed out that DiMaggio had already proven himself as an All Star caliber center fielder, he asked him why he continued to play his heart out, all out every game. He told the reporter,
“Because there might just be a kid up in the stands who’s never seen me play before.”
Maybe it was some kid from Brooklyn or the Bronx’s first time seeing The Yankee Clipper glide across the grass of center field in majestic Yankee Stadium. So he showed up and suited up again, and did it all over again with all he had. He brought his best to the ballpark every day.
And that leads to the second reason Jesus came back again. It’s us. We can all get lulled into “our old routine”, “our old rhythm” – same old Church altar, same old songs, same old sermons … Now rhythm has its merits, it’s important, but it can hide and mask the magic of Easter morning, just one week old. We need to be here, like Jesus and Joltin’ Joe, because it may be the first time somebody walks into our Church, and that somebody may need a hello, or a hand or a handshake from us. Jesus is no longer here, but He is here in us. Somebody we will cross paths with today has, perhaps, never experienced Jesus, or needs to experience Him again, anew today. They may have heard about it, but they need to put their hands in His side, literally, today.
One week later, and we often remain locked up in the upper room … for fear of whatever. Something’s locked us up and drowned out that voice of Easter morning, that voice that calls to send us out to “play center field” … cause somebody needs to see it or “it’s their 1st time”. We need to come back because Jesus has promised to be here … for every sheep’s 1st time … We are called to be that Jesus to our neighbor, to share the vision of that great rebirth, to extend a hand, and, maybe, bring Thomas back with us.
Unfinished Business
Easter Sunday, March 23, 2008
Readings:
Acts 10:34-43
Colossians 3:1-4
Matthew 28:1-10
It’s Easter morning and we take ourselves into the cemetery to see what’s happened. As Pastor Johnson attests, it’s not unusual for pastors to spend a fair amount of time in cemeteries. That place where Mary and others want to see the tomb.
Cemeteries proffer a mixture of feelings. They are a place where memories pour over you like the deluge of a waterfall under which you plant yourself to await the wash. Memories … happy and sad, recent and remote, ephemeral and lingering, born of unfinished business. Therein lie lots of unfinished hugs, kindnesses you had hoped to extend, arguments you had intended to end, apologies you wanted to offer, closure you sought to attain. Lots of unfinished business in cemeteries. Sins of omission, things we said that we shouldn’t have said, things we did that shouldn’t have done.
It all happened so fast. And then it all got crucified on that cross.
Jesus returns to us today on a triumphant note. He comes proclaiming:
“Aloha!”
“What’s hangin’?”
“See ya …. I’m off to Galilee!!”
Why Galilee?
It’s the place …. The place where the thirsty drank, the hungry fed, the blind were given sight again, where the storms were calmed, the 500 were fed, where little children have a voice, where great things happen.
That’s Jesus message today … “I’m outta here … I’m off to that place where great things happen!”
Pastor Johnson smiled as he raised an eyebrow, saying,
“Remember … when you’re in the cemetery, this is not the place where things end. This is the place where the road to Galilee takes off!”
We should not keep our fears to ourselves. There is, perhaps, no greater fear than the fear of death. And today, the Good News is “Death no longer rules, no longer trumps. Death is no longer hanging over us. So go and do His business in the world. You’ve been freed from these shackles. You are now free to build a home for your neighbor who needs one.
The message is so HUGE it’s hard to contain. Even the tomb can’t contain it!
Even the squalor can’t restrain it. The message finds its way to even a Church basement in El Salvador where hundreds of refugees are stowed away, where the ruddy face of a child baptized by a priest afraid for his life shines forth the message. The hope in that message is powerful. It transcends fear, bullets, squalor, darkness, basements, even death.
You can almost hear Jesus’ voice saying, “Tell the boys I’ll see ‘em there.”
In Galilee …
The road to Galilee leads to a place where all your broken dreams come for restoration, where all your fears, where your lost and forgotten dreams, where all that you hold dear, where your losses and hopes, all come to rest and rise again.
Readings:
Acts 10:34-43
Colossians 3:1-4
Matthew 28:1-10
It’s Easter morning and we take ourselves into the cemetery to see what’s happened. As Pastor Johnson attests, it’s not unusual for pastors to spend a fair amount of time in cemeteries. That place where Mary and others want to see the tomb.
Cemeteries proffer a mixture of feelings. They are a place where memories pour over you like the deluge of a waterfall under which you plant yourself to await the wash. Memories … happy and sad, recent and remote, ephemeral and lingering, born of unfinished business. Therein lie lots of unfinished hugs, kindnesses you had hoped to extend, arguments you had intended to end, apologies you wanted to offer, closure you sought to attain. Lots of unfinished business in cemeteries. Sins of omission, things we said that we shouldn’t have said, things we did that shouldn’t have done.
It all happened so fast. And then it all got crucified on that cross.
Jesus returns to us today on a triumphant note. He comes proclaiming:
“Aloha!”
“What’s hangin’?”
“See ya …. I’m off to Galilee!!”
Why Galilee?
It’s the place …. The place where the thirsty drank, the hungry fed, the blind were given sight again, where the storms were calmed, the 500 were fed, where little children have a voice, where great things happen.
That’s Jesus message today … “I’m outta here … I’m off to that place where great things happen!”
Pastor Johnson smiled as he raised an eyebrow, saying,
“Remember … when you’re in the cemetery, this is not the place where things end. This is the place where the road to Galilee takes off!”
We should not keep our fears to ourselves. There is, perhaps, no greater fear than the fear of death. And today, the Good News is “Death no longer rules, no longer trumps. Death is no longer hanging over us. So go and do His business in the world. You’ve been freed from these shackles. You are now free to build a home for your neighbor who needs one.
The message is so HUGE it’s hard to contain. Even the tomb can’t contain it!
Even the squalor can’t restrain it. The message finds its way to even a Church basement in El Salvador where hundreds of refugees are stowed away, where the ruddy face of a child baptized by a priest afraid for his life shines forth the message. The hope in that message is powerful. It transcends fear, bullets, squalor, darkness, basements, even death.
You can almost hear Jesus’ voice saying, “Tell the boys I’ll see ‘em there.”
In Galilee …
The road to Galilee leads to a place where all your broken dreams come for restoration, where all your fears, where your lost and forgotten dreams, where all that you hold dear, where your losses and hopes, all come to rest and rise again.
An Interesting Legacy
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Readings:
Ezekiel 37:1-14
Romans 8:6-11
John 11:1-45
Audio sermon link:
https://fileresource.sitepro.com/filemanager/74/filecollections/422/4C469A32-58D3-1379-689C-505CEA1C59E0.mp3
As Pastor Mohn started out her sermon, she mentioned, as often happens, she discussed her sermon with husband, Erik Gronberg, Pastor at Dr. Martin Luther Church in Oconomowoc. He said, “Whattcha gonna preach about Lazarus?” Upon her response about a planned approach, he replied “Well, you’re gonna preach Favre, aren’t ya?” As only a blog originating in the remorse-laden down-state areas of Wisconsin might attest, the message of Lazarus rising from the dead and the recent hanging up of cleats by one of the NFL’s most relentless of work-ethicists have something in common. Throughout Green Bay and beyond, there were more than shades of grief over the announcement of Favre’s retirement from professional football. There was a palpable sense of loss permeating conversations around water coolers (excuse me, bubblers) and coffee machines. If you didn’t know better, Pastor Mohn pointed out, you’da thought he’d died!? There was a sure-fire sense of a legacy left behind.
Readings:
Ezekiel 37:1-14
Romans 8:6-11
John 11:1-45
Audio sermon link:
https://fileresource.sitepro.com/filemanager/74/filecollections/422/4C469A32-58D3-1379-689C-505CEA1C59E0.mp3
As Pastor Mohn started out her sermon, she mentioned, as often happens, she discussed her sermon with husband, Erik Gronberg, Pastor at Dr. Martin Luther Church in Oconomowoc. He said, “Whattcha gonna preach about Lazarus?” Upon her response about a planned approach, he replied “Well, you’re gonna preach Favre, aren’t ya?” As only a blog originating in the remorse-laden down-state areas of Wisconsin might attest, the message of Lazarus rising from the dead and the recent hanging up of cleats by one of the NFL’s most relentless of work-ethicists have something in common. Throughout Green Bay and beyond, there were more than shades of grief over the announcement of Favre’s retirement from professional football. There was a palpable sense of loss permeating conversations around water coolers (excuse me, bubblers) and coffee machines. If you didn’t know better, Pastor Mohn pointed out, you’da thought he’d died!? There was a sure-fire sense of a legacy left behind.
Number 4 played with reckless abandon, and inspired those around him to hope and believe they could go an extra yard, gain an extra step, gain an extra first down, reach further for a grab. People were resonantly disappointed that he’d leave and let the fire that was his presence be dimmed. The people around Jesus in today’s scripture reading are similarly disappointed that Jesus took the news of Lazarus’ dying without rushing or hurrying to his friend’s side at his time of need. They were disappointed in Jesus for allowing this light that was Lazarus to go out. But Jesus had a different plan. Lazarus’ illness was to be used as part of that bigger plan – to glorify God in his raising from the dead.
In Pastor Mohn’s aptly chosen words,
“That’s an interesting legacy.”
Even when what happens to you doesn’t seem to, it will be used “for good” by God, in God’s way, in God’s time. It’s interesting because is does not always conform to our view of how the plan maybe should be played out. And interesting because our understanding is not integral to the plan God has chosen to reveal His glory to the world.
Jesus DOES care and he truly grieves for Lazarus. His grief is REAL. But there is NO TONLY death. Jesus turns the tables, in a taste of what’s to come. If the blind man of recent scripture texts has been chosen to lead a “purpose driven life” in having his sight restored, it may be, Pastor Mohn notes, a “purpose driven death” through which Lazarus is chosen to illuminate the glory of God.
If this sounds too dramatic, too martyrdom-ish, death is never really as far from us as we’d like to think. It’s as close as The Cross.
Relative to God’s timeline, the length of any human life is but a left parenthesis on a much longer abundance beyond this life. If that left parenthesis is defined as much or more by its ending than anything in its Earthly duration, this may be an interesting legacy. And a twist on our interpretation of the importance of life’s length as contrasted with its abundance. As Pastor Johnson has reminded us several times, Jesus promised us not a long life, but rather an abundant one.
The season of Lent focuses on our mortality and our limits. The reality is we always give our money, our resources, our time, our lives to something. What are your dreams, the things you devote your best hours and your best self to? It’s an important question in life because very day, they cost you another 24 hours and, in the end, they cost you your life.
Each of us receives a call in Baptism to die and rise every day – the dietism and the Tree of Life. Each of us will give our life for something.
What are your dreams? To what are dedicating your life’s efforts? What are you giving your life for? What’s it costing you? What are you willing to pay?
Pastor Mohn casts a cloak of responsibility over this notion when she reminds us that we’re challenged in our answer to this call. We are challenged in that our answer to the call may require that we change to make that calling happen. Recently in Lent Pastor Johnson ended a sermon by leaving us with this thought:
It’s not sinful to leave your feet planted firmly on the ground, but if you’re willing to change to heed the call, if you’re willing to “ride the wind”, if you’re willing, like so many of Favre’s foot soldiers, to believe and to hope and to aspire to an extra charge then what can and will happen will be nothing short of extraordinary.
If we put our own notion of The Plan aside, if we are willing to trust and believe, there’s always another chance for life – as close as tomorrow morning. As Jame taylor sings:
“Another day, another day
Another chance that we may finally find our way
Another day.”
Another day, another chance to play with reckless abandon, and inspire those around you, not all too unlike Numero Quattro, to hope and to believe.
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