Rally Sunday

Today the Youth of Mt. Zion held their annual service in which they witness to their individual and collective experiences at Group Work Camp. This past summer, they traveled to Savannah, Georgia to help the underprivileged there "Renovate" their homes and everyone's lives. Their testimonials were telling and moving. The blog of the entire trip can be viewed at:

http://mtzionlutheranyouth.blogspot.com/

I Must Be in the Front Row

Sermon for Labor Day Sunday, September 2, 2007
Mt. Zion Evangelical Lutheran Church

Hebrews 13:1-8,15-16

Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing so, some have entertained angels unawares.

Luke 14:7-11

On one occasion when Jesus was going to the house of a leader of the Pharisees to eat a meal on the Sabbath, they were watching him closely. When he noticed how the guests chose the places of honor at the table, he told them this parable: “When someone invites you to a wedding feast, do not take the place of honor in case one more distinguished than you has been invited by your host; and the host who invited both of you will come and say to you, ‘Give this man your seat.’ Then, in disgrace, you will have to take the lowest place. But when you are invited, go and sit down at the lowest place, so your host may say to you, ‘Friend, move up higher.’ Then you will be honored in the presence of all who sit at the table with you. For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humbles themselves will be exalted.

Lay Preacher: Vince Prantil

“I Must Be in the Front Row …”
Bob Euker

I was very fortunate this past year to have been in the presence of an angel … unawares.

His name was Stewart Clark. I only met him two times. The first was at a classroom function in my daughter’s 1st grade classroom. Her teacher was Debbie Clark, Stew’s wife. Stew had attended the festivities.

The second time was at a fundraiser for our kids’ daycare. We were blessed that Deb and Stew joined us on that Friday evening in late March. As often happens when teachers get together, lots of stories got told. Stew mostly sat behind us, careful to allow the teachers their moments. When he did speak, it was to ask whomever he was with about them. My memories are only of a very quiet man.

On Monday next, Stew died very suddenly of a heart attack. That Saturday, Laurna and I attended the funeral. Only then, did I learn about the man who sat behind all of us on Friday evening.

Stew was the CEO of DigiCorp in Milwaukee. He played guitar at the Community United Methodist Church in Elm Grove where he was instrumental in creating their contemporary service. Testimonials by family, friends, and colleagues told the story of a caring brother, a successful businessman, a dynamic and Christian leader, a gifted musician, a wonderful father and husband, a humble servant. His stories were about a man who was content with his place in the grand scheme of things, and, without fanfare, seemed at peace with who God intended him to be.

In Rembrandt’s painting Night Watch, he chose to use whispers of yellow around the edges that naturally guide the eye to the center of the painting where brighter reds, blacks and whites illuminate a Captain and his Lieutenant. Stew’s funeral had me wondering … if we were colors used by the artist, would we, as humans, not seek to be in that place to which all are drawn? Or would we be content to be the subtle, oft not recognized yellows that, without credit or mention, play their part & point the way?

At the Youth Work Camp this summer, Mike Naumann approached Laurna and I one evening. He said he had been approached by a young girl on his work crew. She said, “Mr. Naumann. I know we don’t come here for the credit or for the mention … but it’s just good to know sometimes that it makes a difference.”

I was reminded in that moment:

As human beings, we have many needs, and often, these needs come in conflict with one another.

On the one end, we want to know that our being here, what we do and contribute makes a difference, that, on some level, we matter to the world. At the other end, we have a tugging on us to “do the right thing” … even if that means our good deeds goes seemingly unnoticed, not unlike Rembrandt’s yellow brushstrokes. Some will say that we can do BOTH. But often it is hard to do one well without sacrificing the other.



Rabbi Harold Kushner writes:

“Each human life is like 2 slightly blurred images rather than a single clear one. Much of our lives will be spent in this struggle (between two often conflicting needs) – to close the gap between the longing of the soul and the scolding of the conscience, between the assurance we need that we’re good and the satisfaction that we have mattered … In our quest for significance, we litter the world with our mistakes, more than we bless it with our accomplishments. Our souls are split ….”

We, as humans, live in the continuum between these two places. Jesus, maybe, is warning us to be watchful over our desire to matter, a desire that may lead us to become overly ambitious to make our mark on the world. He warns us that, in trying so hard to make a difference, we can lose our way. We are all in a constant struggle between accepting with humility God’s intended role for us and wanting to make our mark, even if that means we force fit another role onto ourselves.

Today’s text is sometimes referred to as the Parable of the Ambitious Guest.

I’m not so sure Jesus is saying anything at all about where you sit in Church or a daycare fundraiser, for that matter. He was talking about how we each come to understand our spiritual gifts in Christ. From the moment of our conception, God forms us for a high purpose. Perhaps if we are too ambitious with our own goals, we run the risk of not fulfilling that purpose.

The metaphor of “a back seat” is a good one … it illustrates the example of humility lived by Jesus, a humility I came to know only too late in the life of Stewart Clark.

Maurice Boyd, Minister of the 5th Avenue Presbyterian Church, New York once said of ambition:

“We must recognize in ambition just how ambiguous it is. We say of him ‘He’s sooo ambitious’ and of her ‘Problem is, she has no ambition’. Ambition can be a good thing … so we should praise it, but not over much. For in excess, it can become demonic. The dishonesty it can engender has a particular twist to it. Is it good to be ambitious? Well yes … and no. If we are ambitious, we need to be aware of it, to keep it in check and keep it consistent with our personal integrity, morality and dignity.”


God help you if there’s something you want so much, you’ll do anything to get it. It can drive you to do things that you really don’t want to do. In our conflict between knowing what is the right thing to do and wanting to matter, humans can and have exaggerated their virtues, compromised their values, forsaken their integrity, betrayed confidences, abandoned their morality, neglected family and rationalized it all away “for a cause that was deemed worthy”.

Political candidates compromise their values to raise money and gain votes. Salesmen exaggerate the virtues of their wares. Athletes pump performance enhancing drugs. Doctors, lawyers, and businessmen neglect their families in the pursuit of professional and financial success. We often will rationalize away such behavior by saying “that’s the way the world is” … “it’s what ya gotta do”. God must remind us to live a humble life that is based more in the Spirit and less in this Earthly world and its definition of success.

Stew Clark walked in what Thomas a Kempis called “a multitude of peace”. He had Earthly success, but he had no need for you to know what he’d accomplished, no need for “a front row seat”. If we are at peace with who we are, we will be content with a lower place, even the lowest place. If we take the lowest place, we’re only doing what Jesus did. Children of God don’t need to prove who they are to themselves or anyone else.

“The humble walk in a multitude of peace”, not the ruthlessly competitive. The trouble with being inordinately competitive is that eventually it is never enough to have enough. You want to have more than everybody else. And you never can. Carl Jung points out that “chapter one in a young person’s life is their setting out to conquer the world.” After some wisening up “chapter two is their realization that the world is not about to be conquered by the likes of them.” Lots of learning going on between Chapters 1 and 2.

In the movie “A Man for All Seasons”, Richard Rich was ambitious for power and to get it he lied. For his perjury, he was rewarded & made Attorney General of Wales. Sir Thomas Moore had earlier told him that he couldn’t handle power, and shouldn’t have it, but that he would make a fine teacher. But Richard didn’t want to teach.

He said “Even if I taught well no one would know it”.

Sir Thomas replied, “Richard, your students would know it; Richard, you would know it … and God would know it”. He thought that was a good audience.

Pastor Johnson has reminded us from this pulpit that God often chooses the humble to be his prophets. He picks them out of the back row where they lie in wait to be called forward to serve their high purpose with very special gifts. God will call us forth when the time is right for us to fulfill our high purpose. And he will not call you because you’re “better than someone else”. Our high purpose doesn’t make us higher than anyone else … …

Like all good parents, God loves his children uniquely, not equally.

Don’t your children vie for your attention, compete with one another to show you how good they can be? And, don’t you, as a parent know that they only have to be themselves to matter? Are there any of your children in “the front row” and others in the back?

Humility, then, requires the strength and wisdom to accept our unique roles in spite of our own desires. We will, in fact, matter MOST when we add to His magnificent tapestry in the way He guides us. And, despite a seemingly human need to matter that leads us to compete, we’re surrounded by more and more evidence that there is a real and true cooperative spirit to the universe.

A physics professor, Eric Mazur, at Harvard University wrote that there are three distinct parts to evolution: mutation, selection, and, only now we are beginning to realize … cooperation. And the patterns we observe in nature owe themselves to individual parts cooperating for the greater good of the whole. In Mazur’s computer model of cell growth, behavior of cancerous tumor cells results from a breakdown in cooperative behavior.

In the movie “A Beautiful Mind”, John Nash unfolds his Nobel Prize winning Nash Equilibrium in the halls (and bars) of Princeton, wherein he states that he and his cohorts, if they are to meet the blond, must do what is best for them individually AND for the group.

“Adam Smith”, he proclaims in a moment of epiphany, “ was wrong!”

So maybe competition alone … or to the extreme, is not the answer.

There is an old Indian saying that goes

“Western man struggles in climbing a mountain because he views the mountain as something to be conquered. He should, rather, become one with the mountain and allow the mountain to raise him up.”

Too often, we view ourselves as “outside of it all” rather than as part of something bigger.

Life is not a zero sum game, in the end. Jesus knew that. He believed we don’t win, ANY ONE of us, until we ALL win. He knows we each have a gift within us that is ours alone, a passion, a longing, a calling at which we were masterfully created to excel. But becoming overly ambitious to a calling that is not our own can undermine our true nature. So Jesus warns us.

“Undertow is extremely strong. Swim with caution.”

The warnings are direct, blunt, to the point, and attention-grabbing. Because the undertow, like ambition, is often more powerful than we are; it is easy to approach it unaware; and be overcome by it in the end. In so doing, the line one crosses is nebulous. It’s foggy, grey, not always clear. And, like the undertow, by the time we realize or admit we are in its strong grasp, it can be a very long and hard road back to a safe place. So a stern warning is not out of line. Think of your own children again. Sometimes it takes the direct message to gets their attention.

Jesus, I think, is only warning us of the dark side of becoming too ambitious.

He might be saying:

“Don’t jump the gun. Take a seat in the back. I have a plan for you. I’ll be calling you.”

“Do you want to matter? The good news is … you already do!”

You matter so much Jesus died for you. You matter so much because you are a child of God. There is no higher purpose than the one God created you for. Revelations reminds us “He has made us all kings and priests”. Just this morning, I turned to my son, Lorin, when he shared something with his sister. I said Lorin “You’re a prince”. He quickly replied, “No, Dad … I’m a King!”

As the Desiderata reminds us:

“If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter; Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time. Be yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, the universe is unfolding as it should.”

Humility is many things. One element is walking in that “multitude of peace” where you recognize you are a child of that Universe, a child of God and you already make a difference whether anybody knows it or not …

… but, in the end, only those you humbly serve may ever know it,

only those who share your gifts and passions may ever know it,

maybe only you will ever know it

but know this … God, who will choose you out of the back row, will know it.

And Stewart Clark reminded me … that’s still a mighty good audience.

Let it Go, Let it Go, Let it Go

Gospel Reading:
John 20:1-18

Lay Preacher: Robyn McGuire

What’s familiar is what I most want to
And it’s all I know to hang onto
And if we’ve no place to grow
Let it go, let it go, let it go

As Robyn McGuire reminded us this week, we do hang onto a lot of things. Because of our human nature, we tend to “get comfy” with our own individual forms of “the familiar”. We fluff them up, feed them, care for them, nurture them, and, yes, hold onto them. In part, we can allow them to define, at least in part, who we are. That’s not entirely a bad thing, but this week Jesus reminds us that we can hold on too much. He showed us that change is inevitable and we should, if not embrace it, be prepared for it and to accept it. Much transformation requires, first, letting go.

Robyn reminded us of all that we hold onto: our jobs, our pets, our relationships with friends and family, our comfort zone. She associated letting go of at least some of these with the process of grieving, that we grieve whenever we sever a part of ourselves from our being. And that grieving takes many forms unique to our individuality.

Robyn points out how “the questions” asked in the Gospel are thought provoking.

First, Jesus asks us all:

“What are you holding onto?” This question requires self-reflection for all of us to answer. Often our reflections reveal things we would not have imagined. When you examine all that you “hold onto”, you can appreciate, in that light of reflection, how much weight you are carrying by holding on. Is it good? Or only familiar?

The angel asks Mary, “Why are you weeping?” and “For whom are you looking?” When the familiar takes exit and we are face to face with change, sometimes our disorientation will leave us in a daze. We do a double take. As Mary did at the tomb when she realized Jesus was no longer there. When we look at things from a new perspective, it is important then to ask ourselves “What are you looking for?”

In the movie Dead Poets Society, Keating tells his students “Just when you think you know something, you must look at it from a different perspective!” He has them all line up and approach his desk and stand on top of it to SEE what the room looks like from “up there”. Just when you think you know something, approach it from a new light! What a message to hear in the throws of Pastor Johnsons sabbatical. Jesus implores us to not hold onto the familiar for its own sake. He says “Watch. I will make a new thing.”

Mary discovers at the tomb that things have been transformed, made new. The angel asks her why she is weeping. Weeping for change? Because her familiar Jesus is no longer? What growth does not involve some form of transformation? Some leaving of the old and stepping out into the new?

Pastor Johnson returned to Mt. Zion this week. He shared stories of his personal transformation. We witnessed a man embracing the new, self avowed (as described by Krista) that he was “not a looking back kinda guy”. But it might have taken some hindsight to help catalyze the transformation. I only yesterday was privileged to listen to Robyn’s sermon of late July. With it came the message of the journey of a caterpillar to chrysalis to pupa to magnificent butterfly.

She was right. The Easter story transcends Easter. It is a message for other times – even the quiet cool evenings of late July.

She summarized beautifully by quoting Pastor Johnson in a voice reminiscent of the angel at the tomb.

You will not find your old friend here. He has changed. He is , in many respects, not the person you knew before. He has gone on.

“I was called to Mt. Zion. Mt. Zion is my home. I’m glad to have Mt. Zion to come home to. I will return wiser, stronger, with a new fire in my belly. This is already clear. But I caution you – I will not be the same person – physically, mentally or spiritually. I’m not sure exactly what shape that will take, but it will be a spectre of a new person with new ideas and new passions.”

In a lot of ways, who we are owes itself in many ways to who we were. But we need to reflect how much of who we were we will continue to carry around and hold onto. A sabbatical is the time for that sort of reflection. When we recognize that the journey best embraces making a new thing, we can grow into that beautiful butterfly.

I can’t help but hear a collective voice … as we come to terms with the new person Pastor Johnson has become, as the tombstone has been turned away, as the cocoon breaks open, a cloud of witnesses happily says …

“Welcome home”

Don’t Shoot Me … I’m Just the Messenger

Readings:
Isaiah 66:10-14
Galations 6:1-16
Luke 10:1-11,16-20

Lay Preacher: Jan Veseth-Rogers

Today’s text from Luke brings home a message often at the heart of Jesus’ teaching:

It’s Not About Me!

In a theme that has been and will be revisited by others preaching this summer, Jesus’ words are sometimes hard to take, to hear, to “wrap our heads and hearts around”. Today is no exception.

Jan points out that Jesus, as He so often does, chooses His words deliberately. As is also often the case, those whose eyes remain on the prize often choose words that are direct, concise, blunt. Here we are called to evangelize, from the Greek “to proclaim”.

A calling with which we are often not comfortable, one we have to wrap our heads around, but often are not successful in doing. Jan points out several characteristics of evangelizers:

They are chosen (but they need to answer their call).

They are “sent out in pairs” because God is aware that human beings, in their nature, seek relationship. Jesus also knew it would too often be too hard to “go it alone” as disciples in His cause. These people take the form of mentors, friends and soulmates with whom we travel on our spiritual journeys.

Evangelizers are sent out ahead of Jesus, an advanced press corps, of sorts.

Jesus warns those sent ahead to be prepared for rejection. The overriding message is that “at the very heart of it, we are only ever messengers”. And it’s about the message, not about us! We will, most assuredly, encounter rejection, but Jesus is reminding us that it is His message that is being rejected.

Don’t take it personally, he offers. Keep at it! I’m right behind you.

Jan drew a picture of traveling as a young girl and knowing she could “travel light” as her parents would “take care of her every need”. Perhaps, she also offers, Jesus is telling us to trust that God will also be our spiritual parent. And to travel light in that knowledge.

The words Jesus chooses do not invoke us to “quit our jobs and become itinerant preachers and missionaries. We are not called to “have all the answers”. We cannot. We only have to ever know “who sent us”. We need to constantly remind ourselves “It’s not about us, but He who sent us”.

Rick Warren opens his book A Purpose Driven Life with those simple remindful words:

It’s Not About You!

Hearing these words, a sermon by Pastor Mohn was brought to mind. She drew the farming analogy quite well and likened us to sowers of seeds. And that we should remind ourselves that ours is not to always overly worry about the ground rejecting those seeds. We are called to plant His seeds.

God does the harvesting.

It’s Not About Us ……

Reaching for the Language of the Sacred

Readings:
1 Kings 19:15-16,19-21
Galations 5:1,13-25
Luke 9:51-62

Lay Preacher: Pam Shellberg

Today’s text from Luke brings what appear to be harsh words from an “otherwise” loving Jesus, a warning that hits at the heart. But Pam Shellberg takes those seemingly harsh words in which that warning is delivered, and unwraps what is perhaps an underlying message that brings the supposed and allegedly harsh tone into a broader context.

Jesus speaks very explicit words in Luke’s Gospel. His disciples vow they will “follow wherever you (Jesus) go” to which He replies, “The foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” Upon asking another to follow Him, Jesus has a man reply “First let me go and bury my father” to which Jesus replies ”Let the dead bury their own dead; but, as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God.” To another who asks to put his affairs in order first, He replies that “no one who puts a hand to the plow and los back is fit for the kingdom of God.”

Harsh words, indeed.

Pam Shellberg delivered a thought-provoking interpretation of the lesson underlying the words, I believe. As a very wise pastor once told me:

“There is ambiguity in this message, now isn’t there. And, if there is, it might just be that we were meant to ponder and examine that ambiguity.” That we might learn a message it was meant to convey.

In my heart, Pam did this most effectively today. And from several different vantage points, as I heard her words.

First, let’s examine the voice of God as Father: “If you take of yourself first, your family, your affairs first, you are not fit for the kingdom of God.” Translation? To be fit, you must perform in a certain way, to a certain standard. God as Father figure often speaks harsh words in a demanding tone. The words are not “Jesus loves me!” This perhaps would be the voice of God as Mother, but this is not the voice we hear today.

Second, the Samaritans do not receive Jesus. To be received, it is necessary for Him to fulfill his destiny, to die in Jerusalem. But neither do the Samaritans reject Jesus. They reject where He is heading – toward Jerusalem, his destiny. What does this mean?
Pam gives an eloquent metaphor for us to consider. Jesus is focused on Jerusalem, his Eye on the Prize. He does not forget His destiny, His mission, His predominant reason for being on this Earth, His role, His gift, His calling. Jerusalem is the metaphor for our role for the kingdom, our place in the tapestry.

It is human nature, at times, to forget this or even deny it. There is a good book written called The Imposter Phenomenon, addressing a psychological phenomenon well known, particularly to artists and those pursuing creative-minded occupations. Those gifted to be writers often settle for being text editors, artists settle for being salespersons of great art. They are close to their calling, but all suffer a single common flaw in obtaining their rightful place in the tapestry. They get almost uncomfortably close to their calling but resist embracing it. It may very well be human nature that drives us this way.

As Pam points out, we believe we can find God “in a little town, along the way”. As humans, we want “to stay home and have God come to us”. Perhaps, as she also deftly points out, Jesus is warning us it doesn’t work that way. Mohammed doesn’t want to go to the mountain, he wants the mountain to come to him! Perhaps when Jesus tells us “the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head”, he is saying “you will not be able to follow me comfortably to your home; to follow me, someone who has no place to lay His head, means you must be prepared to be homeless yourself, as was I”.

Pam describes the very personal circumstances of burying her own father: designing the butterflies on his funeral bulletin, penning thoughtful letters to his oncology doctors and others whose presence in those last days and weeks of a life, bring meaning and comfort to the terminally ill. She wrote to offer an awareness to those people that they were, indeed, the bearers of God’s presence in a life near death.
In the days following her father’s passing, she stood close to, in the mystery of death.

To one so thoughtful, faithful, and aware of the importance of living presence in the face of death and resurrection; aware of the commandment to “honor thy parents”, Jesus’ words, Pam admitted, were ones she ‘struggled to wrap her head around”. This must have been a feeling all too common in that sanctuary. I have not buried my father, but I felt the ambiguity and the struggle to find meaning in those seemingly harsh words. Perhaps, that is only human nature.

Pam then found a way to wrap those words around … a heart.

Jesus, she reminded us, was not, is not without compassion for the dying, for the survivors of those closest to those in death. Perhaps, as she points out, Jesus is only saying that it is possible for these events to become all-consuming to our human nature. In so devoting our God-given energies for these, we may take our “eyes off the prize”, “off our individual roads to Jerusalem” – our destinies, our places in the grand tapestry. In a book I have quoted often in this blog, Jesus CEO, one chapter is entitles “He Guarded His Energy”. In it, Laurie Beth Jones reminds us that Jesus knew his eyes could be taken off his destiny and he zealously guarded against any attempts to derail his purpose, even to the point of reminding His mother Mary why He had to be preaching in the temple.

Jesus is not anti-family. He recounts the parable of the Prodigal Son, he attends weddings, he revives the dead son of a widowed mother. But in the game of family vs. discipleship, He has a stern warning, words as harsh as his compassion is sincere in those other encounters.

Family commitments can put us on slippery slopes with obligation. This is, perhaps, because these are our most profoundly intimate and our deepest relationships on this Earth. In such relationships, Pam most beautifully reminds us we “reach for the language of the Sacred”. In birth, there is creation; in becoming parents, we are aware for perhaps the first time what it feels like to know you would sacrifice your life for another human being; we celebrate covenants and promises of infinite love; and in death, we embrace the language of honor and hope for the reunion in the Resurrection.

Our deepest expressions are in our families and our homes.

As with other good things, even the best things … all things still are best in moderation or dangerous in overt excess. Perhaps, the more meaningful these relationships are to us, the harder for us, as humans, to recognize when they may come to cloud our vision of the road to Jerusalem and our destinies for God’s plan.

Pam confessed that at key times in her life when she sought answers, she would ask “What would my father do?” She told us how he served as her moral compass. Jesus is reminding us to also remember that “What would my father do?” does not always equate to “What would Jesus do?” … however much we reach for the language of the Sacred.

So here’s the question …

Jesus is not looking for His family or His home town; he has his sights fixed on his destiny that is on the far horizon; He sets his face toward Jerusalem.

Perhaps seemingly harsh words are less than subtle reminders that we, too, are called to keep our eyes on the horizon, on our further purpose, higher purpose, our calling, or destiny. We are all called to keep our eyes on a personal Jerusalem and a personal cross.

Pam reassured us that there is a dearth of clear answers – one thing she is all too aware of as she attempts to complete her dissertation. I can assure Pam that that is a realization faced by those who complete their dissertation in fields as far flung as the physical sciences, as well, and all of us struggling to answer any questions with lasting meaning. All searches for truth go through the rough fields of ambiguity. She concluded her sermon these wisely chosen words:

“There is an assured dearth of clear answers … surely (those answers) have to do with something of which I am presently unaware.”

Those words left me with a lump in my throat. We are without clear answers, but, in light of that, we are called to keep our eyes on the collective horizon. There, God is calling us and we may need all our energies to hear that calling.

The Silence That Speaks

Readings:
1 Kings 17:17-24
Galationas 1:11-24
Luke 7:11-17

Lay Preacher: Jan Veseth-Rogers

Today’s text from Luke recounts the story of Jesus’ reviving a widow’s only son. Jan picks up on a very interesting notion in this text, one that, in so doing showcases the Jesus described therein. I believe Jan saw something in this text that took some “looking”.

What is of import in the telling of this story. Is it that the woman is a widow, that the dead man is her only son? Perhaps, as Jan points out, it is not a story only about a widow or only about a son. Perhaps these are devices to introduce us to a much bigger picture, characters used to showcase Jesus’ actions. Perhaps it is not the circumstances that are altogether crucial, but how Jesus reacts to them.

Case in point. Jan points out several very deliberate actions on the part of Jesus that might otherwise go unnoted. As he approaches the town of Nain, the dead man is being carried out, surrounded by a large crowd.

The widow is one of many in that crowd. The widow doesn’t speak … BUT Jesus knows which one is the mother!

How?

Even though she does not speak to him or identify herself, He knows who she is. He feels her pain; he knows the mourning of a woman, alone, the look of a woman mourning the death of her only son … a mourning his own mother will, in time, know only all too well. He speaks to her. Yet he does not have to have her pointed out. He recognizes the face of pain, of longing, of loss.

And though that loss, that longing, that pain have no voice, He “hears” it and feels it as if it were His own.

Jan very eloquently and quietly struck me in a particular way on the morning of June 10th. She struck me as, in some sense, an ideal messenger for this sermon. I felt very oddly and strongly that this sermon could be given most powerfully by … a mother. Her lips pursed, her face had well-defined structure as she delivered the key that unlocked a message hidden in this story.

Jesus is here for those with no voice, the ordinary, those with seemingly no hope. He hears into their hearts and knows their innermost need.

Jesus hears into the silence and the silence speaks … for those that have the ears to hear. Jesus does. He gives voice to the voiceless; He hears in the silence our needs, our longing, our empty void … and He comes to fill that void with hope.

Not all heartaches are not to be named in words – but some remain so … out of fear, sin, out of confusion. These all take our voice away at critical defining moments in our lives. But, in those moments, we are never alone. There are ears to hear through the confusion, the denial, the pain, the loss, the longing, into our heart of hearts.

Declarations of faith are NOT always demanding.

Sometimes they are quiet moments, unspoken moments, when our fallibility as humans leaves us without a voice. As a man, not a mother, I fear I would not have recognized this woman. But Jesus did. Jan could relate on a more intimate level. Through her eyes, I was able to see more clearly what Jesus might have been intending for us to hear … a woman with no voice … for whom our Lord felt compassion.

He hears into the silence … and the silence speaks.

Surrounded by a Great Cloud of Witnesses

This summer, several laypersons in our own congregation have been and will be privileged to preach on the Gospel at Mt. Zion Lutheran Church. The texts for these weeks have some common threads that I hope this blog will comment on and maybe even, on good days, tie together. Thoughts, interpretations, words and fruits of the spirit, stories, metaphors will be offered by Jan Veseth-Rogers, Pam Shellberg, Keith Pignolet, Robyn McGuire, Dana O’Brien, and myself.

The texts seem to repeatedly address seemingly harsh words spoken by Jesus, our fallibility and the costs of human nature, and a repeated theme that “It’s Not About Us”, but something much, much bigger.

We will hear more than once that voice of Shoeless Joe Jackson say to Ray Kinsella “Are you asking what’s in it for you, Ray?” … and then warn him “You better stay here, Ray”.

Why?

Stay tuned … we, as a congregation, are a cloud of witnesses with our own individual stories and journeys. We can learn this summer that to the extent that we are willing to share them, we will become stronger, more mindful and closer to God collectively than we ever could alone.