Ash Wednesday
February 14, 2018
Good Shepherd Lutheran Church
Decorah, Iowa
Rev. Amy Zalk Larson

Beloved of God, grace to you and peace in the name of Jesus.

How many times a day do you have this kind of exchange: “How are you?” “Good. You?” “Good.”  This is just a common exchange; we say it all the time, no big deal. Except it doesn’t always feel honest. Things are not so good. Our lives and our world are not as they should be. They are marred by personal and systemic sinfulness, injustice, violence, sorrow.

Ash Wednesday brings us face to face with all of that. The ashen cross marked on our foreheads reminds us, and everyone who sees us, that things are not fine. The ashen cross reminds us to stop and reflect on that question, “how are you?”, and wrestle with the answer.

This is an uncomfortable thing to do in a culture that is so focused on staying positive and looking on the bright side, in a culture that tells us to just keep busy – to keep doing, working, spending, just keep going.

We don’t have many opportunities to reflect and to be honest.  Yet, if you’ve traveled outside the US you may have noticed that Americans aren’t the only ones who answer that “how are you?” question with a stock answer. I’ve been thinking a lot about time I spent in Tanzania since John Moeller returned from his recent trip.

When someone there asks you, “habari za leo?“- “how is the day?”, the only appropriate response is, “nzuri”-“good”. It’s also the only appropriate response when you are asked a multitude of other questions. People stop and ask about every aspect of your life: how is the work, how is school, how are the children, how is the family?, and you’re supposed to just keep repeating, “nzuri na we?”- “good and you?”. I kept thinking, couldn’t we be a little more reflective, a little more honest? For instance, one day our Tanzanian friend was driving us into the city when he saw two of his friends walking along the road. He stopped to offer them a ride. As they got in we asked each other all the questions, including, “how was your trip?”- “good”. Then, after fifteen minutes of these exchanges, they shared that their suitcase had been stolen on the trip.

I was blown away. If my suitcase was stolen and a friend asked about my trip, I would not have been able to say it was good. I would not have been able to wait for fifteen minutes before sharing the hard news. I would have led with, “oh, you won’t believe what happened!”

Slowly I came to see the power in this way of greeting. Tanzanians don’t just vent about their problems with whomever they happen to see. They don’t just rush past each other. There are ritualized ways to stop, turn towards one another, and show concern about every aspect of life. Once the connection with another person is established, then they reflect more openly on what’s happening in their lives. They stay in the conversation much longer than we do and can move past the “fine, good”, or the venting into more depth. There’s also space for expressing what is not so good in communal rituals that provide space and time for weeping, fervent prayer and even loud wailing as people repent, grieve and lament.

All of these ritualized greetings and practices shape the people of Tanzania to tend to the wellbeing of others and the whole community. It isn’t surprising that the Tanzanian church is so strong and vibrant, as so many of the cultural practices fit what we need in our lives of faith.

We all need opportunities to stop, to turn toward one another and toward God. We need practices that allow us to acknowledge, together, that things are not as they should be, as well as practices that help us to experience healing and wellbeing.

We are given these opportunities on Ash Wednesday, throughout the season of Lent, and each time we gather for worship. We share in rituals like confession and forgiveness, the imposition of ashes, the laying on of hands, remembrance of baptism and Holy Communion. We share in ritualized conversations between worshippers and worship leaders that invite us into deeper conversation with scripture and with God.

As we share in these practices, we tend to our own personal wellbeing. Yet they are not for us alone. These practices also shape us to tend to the needs of others. The rituals that we share, in community and as a community, have far-reaching implications. They shape us in a particular way of being that serves a hurting world.

When we look at our world these days it’s easy to just vent or succumb to despair. It’s easy to blame everyone else and to try to fix the world according to our own opinions. It’s tempting to try to ignore it all, put on a happy face and focus on our own security. But those are not God’s ways; those things do not serve the world that God so loves.

Rituals for repentance, confession and forgiveness help us to see that the brokenness is within us as well as around us. We come face to face with the ways our actions influence others. We’re confronted with the truth that we cannot fix this world on our own. We learn to be honest and to lament. We’re also opened to experience God’s steadfast love and mercy which never fails. We learn to praise even when we feel discouraged, for praise helps us to defy the power of sin and suffering to define us. We’re drawn into deeper, honest conversations with God that heal us. In all these ways, we are shaped to be people who can stand in the broken places of our world as vessels of mercy and healing for others.

Things are not as they should be, but we need not despair. God is good, God forgives, God heals. God shapes us into people who can tend to our world in life-giving ways.

So, perhaps we can honestly answer that “how are you” question with the word “good” because God is good and God helps us to be people who both lament and praise.

Thanks be to God.

Transfiguration of Our Lord
February 11, 2018|
Good Shepherd Lutheran Church
Decorah, Iowa|
Rev. Amy Zalk Larson

Click here to read scripture passages for the day.

Beloved of God, grace to you and peace in the name of Jesus who is God with us.

“When Jesus was transfigured before them, his clothes became dazzling white, such as no one on earth could bleach them.” So, we can know for sure that the transfiguration is not a Tide ad. Last week during the Super Bowl, some of the funniest commercials were for Tide laundry detergent. I’m not a huge fan of the Super Bowl or commercial TV, but the Tide ads got my attention. The first one was pretty long and appeared to be marketing a car, then beer, then an insurance company, then diamonds, then a mattress, but we kept hearing, “It’s a Tide ad.” “What makes it a Tide ad?” a mechanic under a car asked. “There are no stains, look at those clean clothes. What else would this be an ad for?” There were more scenes that could have been marketing all sorts of things, but our attention was drawn to the spotless clothing. “Tide ad”, was the constant refrain. “So,” the ad ended, “does this make every Super Bowl ad a Tide ad? Watch and see.” And I did. I kept looking at different commercials thinking, is this a Tide ad? That first ad got my attention and changed how I approached the rest of the night.

I think that’s what happens at the transfiguration of Jesus. Granted the transfiguration is much more mysterious, glorious and significant; but God gets the attention of Peter, James and John and tells them to approach everything that is to come differently. They really need that because from this point on in their story with Jesus, things get really hard.        

 And when things are hard, when we’re suffering, we can lose sight of the God who comes to us in Jesus. We can start to think God has failed or abandoned us, that God is punishing us, or that God has caused our suffering for a reason.

The transfiguration, and what comes after it, offers a different perspective on God and suffering – a perspective that can change how we approach everything.

Before the transfiguration, the disciples’ life with Jesus is incredibly wonderful. He heals people, drives out demons, stills a storm, feeds 5,000, walks on water – it’s glorious. Peter confesses to Jesus, “You are the Messiah”. He sees in Jesus the one they’ve been waiting for, the one who will save them from their present suffering.

But then Jesus tells them that he is going to suffer and be killed. What? Peter takes Jesus aside and rebukes him – this can’t be right. How will you save us, Jesus, if you’re dead? Jesus tells Peter, “get behind me Satan.”

Suddenly nothing makes sense. Who is this guy? What is this all about? Do I want to devote my life to this?

That whole exchange happens six days before Jesus takes Peter, James and John up a high mountain. When they get there, suddenly Jesus is dazzling – shining like the sun and talking with great heroes of the faith, Moses and Elijah. Now things are more glorious than they could ever imagine, terrifying but still glorious. This is what a Messiah should look like. Peter wants to set up camp and bask in the glow of it all, but he misses the point. This is supposed to be more than a bright, shiny, feel-good experience. It’s sup- posed to get their attention, to change how they see things and how they move forward. A cloud over- shadows them and a voice speaks from the cloud saying, “This is my Son, the Beloved, listen to him.” God calls them to pay attention and take note.

They head back down the mountain and things seem to go from bad to worse for Jesus, very quickly. He keeps talking about his suffering and death. He angers the authorities constantly. He’s arrested, beaten, and sentenced to death.

Jesus does not seem much like the Messiah the disciples were expecting as he goes through all this. The bloodied Jesus wearing a crown of thorns doesn’t look much like God’s beloved Son shining on the mountaintop. And yet, it is the same person. God, in Jesus, has entered suffering. The transfiguration should help Peter, James, and John to recognize that – to see that this is the Messiah who is beaten, tortured and killed, and to pay attention to what that means.

It means everything that happens to Jesus isn’t a sign that he’s failed or weak or ungodly. It means that God’s glory is revealed not only in feel-good experiences but even more fully in the way God deals with suffering. God, in Jesus, enters into all that holds us down and breaks its power over us.

The transfiguration should help the disciples to recognize that, but it doesn’t at first. The resurrection should also help, but even that doesn’t quite do it right away.

It takes Jesus’ presence with them in the bread and wine and his presence in the broken yet blessed community. It takes his teachings that they return to after his death, it takes prayer, it takes the gift of the Holy Spirit poured out on the church. It takes all of that for the disciples to view Jesus’ suffering differently.

Like the disciples, we also need a changed perspective. We often imagine that God is above our suffering, calling all the shots; or that God is totally removed from it all. It’s hard to recognize that God is truly with us in all that we face.

Yet the same things that were given to the disciples are given to us – bread and wine, water, God’s word, prayer, the gathered community. All of this is given to get our attention and change our perspective on God and suffering.

We are given glorious experiences in worship and life. We’re given things as insignificant as Tide ads that can help us “watch and see” things differently. Most of all, we are given Jesus who will go to any length to show us that we are not alone, that God is with us in all things.

With these gifts, we can approach suffering differently – looking for signs of God’s presence, for signs for new life. We can also follow Jesus into the struggles of the world to be part of how God is bringing new life. God doesn’t avoid suffering and we don’t have to either. We can go where Jesus leads, trusting that we are not alone, so that we might help others to know that God is with them as well.    

Let’s take a moment of silent prayer.

Fifth Sunday after Epiphany
February 4, 2018
Good Shepherd Lutheran Church
Decorah, Iowa
Rev. Amy Zalk Larson

Click here to read scripture passages for the day.

Beloved of God, grace to you and peace in the name of Jesus who heals us.

This story about Simon’s mother-in-law got me thinking about my own mother-in-law, Judy, and a time when she needed healing. Some years ago, my in-laws, Judy and John, were in a car accident while they were traveling to be with us all at Christmas.

Judy’s injuries weren’t life threatening but they were serious enough to land her in a hospital in Kansas City for quite a while. She endured lots of physical pain but what was even harder for Judy was being separated from her family, especially at Christmas. Family means everything to her, so not being with all of us was really devastating. The rest of us missed Judy and John terribly and felt powerless to help from so far away.

Illnesses and injuries are challenging enough as they plague our minds, bodies and spirits. Yet, what often makes such ailments even harder is the way they can disrupt our connections to community and diminish our sense of purpose in life.

Good Shepherd members who are homebound or living in nursing homes know this experience on a deep level. But they aren’t alone in this. Physical and mental illnesses of all kinds can lead us to feel like we’re cut off from others and unable to contribute to the world around us. This can lead to us feeling cut off from God as well.

That was probably a big part of what was happening for Simon’s mother-in-law the day that Simon brought Jesus to her house. (I so wish she’d been called by her name in this story but that’s another whole issue). She had a fever, which to us may not sound like a big deal – just take a little Tylenol, maybe get some antibiotics. Yet in the ancient world fevers often ended with death. So, as she lay there in bed she was probably pretty fearful. The isolation she faced may have been even worse. Back then there was a very heavy social cost to illness.

People who were sick and unable to carry out their roles in the community weren’t able to be honored as valuable members of their households, towns or villages. This was a big deal in ancient societies that emphasized honor and shame. It would have been both the role and the honor of this woman to show hospitality to Jesus when he entered her home. Yet, illness kept her from doing this valued work that integrated her into her world. It also prevented her from gathering with her faith community at the synagogue. So, this dear woman was laid very low that day.

But then Jesus came into her bedroom, took her by her hand and raised her up. In the Gospel reading earlier we heard that “Jesus lifted her up” but that’s a bad translation! The Greek word used here actually means raised up – it’s the same as the word used to describe Jesus’ resurrection. This word conveys the sense that new strength is imparted to those laid low by illness, unclean spirits, or even death, so that they may rise up to take their place in the world again.

This same word is used throughout the healing stories in the book of Mark – the people who are healed are raised up. This work of raising people seems to be the main goal of Jesus’ healing work. His main focus isn’t the elimination of illness but the renewal of life as God’s kingdom comes among us. Jesus works to raise and renew people for lives of service in community.

Speaking of service, I know it sounds strange that right after the fever left this woman, she began to serve the men. It sounds like a major gender stereotype – like some bad TV sitcom with a guy in a recliner yelling at his wife, “I don’t care if you’ve been sick, I want supper now.”

But the Greek here is important too. The word to describe the way she serves is diakoneo – the word we translate as deacon. Jesus used the word about himself when he said he came to serve rather than be served. He calls all of his disciples to this type of service. And, the church uses this word for those who lead others in the ministry of service. Simon’s mother-in-law isn’t some sitcom caricature. She’s the first person in Mark’s gospel who exemplifies true Christ-like discipleship and service. When she is raised up, her life of service is renewed and reframed. She serves not only because it’s her role, she serves in response to what Jesus has done for her.

The risen Jesus is still in the business of raising people up. He comes to us even today to raise us to new life. Yet it can be hard for us to know this when Jesus doesn’t walk into our bedrooms, take our hands and raise us up. That’s why we need the gift of baptism and reminders of baptism so that we can experience this renewal. In baptism, we are assured that just as Jesus was raised from the dead, we too are raised to new life in Christ. This does not mean that illness and suffering are eliminated from our lives. It does mean that those things don’t have the power to cut us off from God, from community or from the renewal of our lives.

We are not defined by the things that ail us. Instead, our lives are defined by what God does for us – by the way God names, forgives, and renews us each new day. Baptism draws us into the broken and blessed community of the church, the community where we can experience hands reaching out to raise us up and can offer our hands to others. Even when we face illness and can’t do the things we once did, we can still serve others in new ways. Sometimes the most important service is to bear witness to the ways God renews our lives even in the midst of suffering.

The healing and new life Jesus gives doesn’t mean the eradication of all illness. It didn’t mean that even for Simon’s mother-in-law. The fever went away that day, but she died eventually, as did everyone Jesus healed and raised up. Sickness, suffering and death still persist but because of Jesus, they do not have ultimate power over us. We are raised new each day now and forever. We are renewed for lives of service in community.

Thanks be to God.

Fourth Sunday after Epiphany
January 28, 2018
Good Shepherd Lutheran Church
Decorah, Iowa
Rev. Amy Zalk Larson

Click here to read scripture passages for the day.

Beloved of God, grace to you and peace in the name of Jesus.

This is a strange story that feels so removed from our world now. An unclean spirit cries out in the middle of a sermon, nonetheless! I hope that’s something we never experience here!

We don’t really know what to make of talk of demons and unclean spirits, but that’s not the only part of this story that can leave us squirming. There’s the whole notion of Jesus’ authority. The people in the synagogue that day were startled by Jesus’ authority, and we often don’t know what to make of it either.

Jesus’ power may be good news for someone who’s possessed by an unclean spirit, but what does it mean for us?

We’re generally pretty distrustful of authority, pretty reluctant to think that anyone else should have much power over our lives. We like to think of ourselves as free, rational and in control.

Except, in reality, there are no end of things, people and forces that have authority in our lives. For instance: I bet most adults here started the day with a psychoactive drug. I always do. I take mine straight, but sometimes I’ll stir in some cream or sugar. We’ve only been drinking coffee for the last few hundred years, but our dependence on it wields considerable authority over us. If you’ve ever tried to give up sugar, quit smoking or stop drinking, you know first-hand that our appetites have some pretty major authority in our lives.

We may have nothing to fear but fear itself. Yet, fear of violence, fear of change, fear of being different, fear of disease, fear of missing out, fear of loss, fear of so many things, drive us. Politicians and marketers capitalize on that fear to control us much more than we care to admit. When people promise to keep us safe, we often end up obeying their authority without even batting an eye, usually without even being aware it’s happening.

The consumeristic mentality in our world today also has tremendous power over us. We justify all manner of unhelpful actions by telling ourselves that we deserve to feel good or that we just weren’t getting our needs met.

I could argue that these things, and all the other things that control us, are demonic – that we, just like that man in the synagogue, need to have the demons cast out.

Except I’m not sure we’re that guy. I’m not sure that’s what we most need. I think we’re more like those people in the synagogue who are startled to realize that there’s somebody new, somebody with authority, who has shown up. I think we’re just as surprised as they were to hear that Jesus is THE authority for us, and as slow to believe it.

Some of us have experienced the sudden exit of an evil and destructive presence from our lives, and thanks be to God for that kind of power displayed. Most of us have a long, slow slog through life – seeing and hearing the good news of Jesus and then stepping back, scratching our heads, unsure what to make of it all, what it means for us.

I don’t think it means we need to decide to give Jesus more authority over our lives. We wish we could be in control like that – that we could look at Jesus and his ways of humility, service and love and just choose to act like that. But that’s not how it works. If we can’t make a decision about managing our appetites, if we can be controlled by politicians and slick ad campaigns, if our selfish desires wield too much authority in our lives, then, as much as we hate to admit it, our own decisions and willpower don’t mean much.

What matters, rather, is that God has made a decision about us, about you. You are loved. You are forgiven, and set free, and made new because God has made a decision about you; and that’s the authoritative word of the sovereign God. What we need more than a flashy exorcism is to hear God loves us and sets us free and to hear that often enough that we believe it.

God’s decision to love and free us means that things don’t have to stay the way they are. If there’s some- thing that needs changing, change becomes possible. It’s possible because it doesn’t depend on us.

It depends upon Jesus who has authority over all the powers that defy God – all the other forces that drive us away from God’s intent that we be well. It depends upon Jesus whose life-giving authority sets us free.

When we’re set free, then change happens. When we’re set free, we can be part of bringing meaningful change to our world.

It doesn’t depend on us. We need to show up and pay attention, of course; we need to put ourselves in places where we’ll hear God’s freeing word. But, we can do this knowing that it’s not all up to us, that somebody with real authority – Jesus – has come into the world and into our lives.

Jesus is probably not going to boot out whatever needs booting from our lives the way he booted the demon out of that guy in the synagogue. Magical thinking like that is bound to leave us frustrated and confused.

But it does mean that the authoritative word from God regarding you is love. Jesus has come, Jesus is for you. Jesus has authority over all the forces that can lead you away from God’s intents for you. Those forces do not have ultimate authority.

Let’s take a moment for prayer to reflect on God’s authoritative word of love for each of us.

Third Sunday after Epiphany
January 21, 2018
Good Shepherd Lutheran Church
Decorah, Iowa
Rev. Amy Zalk Larson

Click here to read scripture passages for the day.

Beloved of God, grace to you and peace in the name of Jesus.

We heard some of the story of Jonah today. A while ago at Good Shepherd, we had lots of fun with Jonah’s story when the kids in Vacation Bible School acted it out for the congregation. There was a big fish, a canoe that became a sailboat, sailors wearing shower caps and fake mustaches. It was marvelous.

But even without our very entertaining kids and their props, there’s lots of comedy and fun in Jonah’s story. It isn’t told to recount a historical event but to help us to know more of who our God is. Sometimes we act as if the God of the Old Testament is totally different from the God of Jesus, but there is one God. The story of Jonah helps us to know our God.

The story is fun, but it can also be pretty disturbing. Our reading today ends with the words: “God changed his mind about the calamity that he had said he would bring upon them; and God did not do it.”

God was planning a calamity? God does that? And then God changed his mind? God does that?

Sometimes we talk as if God is gentle, sweet and loving, but also fairly weak and irrelevant. This God wants us to be nice, to avoid conflict and not get too upset about anything – God as the ultimate Mid- westerner. This God would never plan a calamity.

Other times we act as if God is some great big, angry judge who keeps score of right and wrong, good and bad. The good believers are rewarded, the rest are punished. This God is fierce, relentless and unchanging.

In the story of Jonah, we see that God is very different from either of those caricatures. This is good news, as well as a challenge, for us.

God tells Jonah to go to Nineveh – the capital of Assyria, superpower of the ancient world. Assyria was notorious for using its power to oppress, exploit, torture, and dominate. God is angered by this wicked- ness and wants justice. God tells Jonah to cry out that Nineveh will be overthrown. Except Jonah doesn’t want to enter enemy territory to announce God’s justice. He hops on a ship that’s going completely the opposite direction from Nineveh.

But God doesn’t let Jonah go. God hurls a mighty wind into the sea, a storm arises, and the ship threatens to break apart. The sailors on the ship hurl Jonah into the sea and he’s swallowed up by a big fish that God sends. God is not sweet, irrelevant, and harmless. Rather, God is bent on justice and is actively involved in the ongoing work of creating, ordering and restoring our world.

So, Jonah ends up in the belly of a fish for three days. He prays and God tells the fish to hurl Jonah out.

(All the hurling that happens is part of the comedy.)

Then God tells Jonah, a second time, to go to Nineveh. This time Jonah listens and follows, but just barely.

He sulks through the city and says, “forty days and Nineveh will be overthrown.” His comically short sermon makes a huge difference. Everyone in Nineveh, from the king on down to all the animals, puts on sack cloths, sits in ashes and repents.

The other biblical prophets give powerful poetic speeches and God’s people just ignore them. Jonah does the bare minimum and all of Nineveh repents. He’s the most successful prophet in all of scripture. His mortal enemies listen and turn to God. Good news, right?

No! Jonah gets angry, “angry enough to die”, as he puts it. He tells God, “that is why I fled, for I knew that you are a gracious God and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love, and ready to relent from punishing.” So, the truth comes out. Jonah has tried to avoid God’s call, not because he’s afraid of the Ninevites – he’s afraid God will be both just and merciful.

Jonah wants God to be the angry judge who will condemn the Ninevites to wrath and destruction. He wants retributive justice, a “show no mercy” approach. But Jonah knows that’s not the kind of justice that God is ultimately about. So even when Jonah is sent to speak about God’s wrath, he’s pretty sure God will be gracious and merciful, too. God may even change the plan in order to be true to who God is – that God might forgive evil, oppressive Nineveh. And Jonah is right. Jonah’s story shows us that God is not only bent on justice and not only merciful. God isn’t an angry judge or an irrelevant sweetie. Instead, God holds both justice and mercy together out of love for the whole creation. God is angered by evil and actively seeks to change it. And, God seeks always to restore goodness and compassion.

God also asks a lot from us. God wants us to embody both justice and kindness. We’re called to be firm and gracious, strong and kind.

Living according to God’s justice is hard and demanding, especially when we’re asked to do it in compassionate, restorative ways. Choosing mercy is hard, especially when we’ve been hurt. So often we’d rather run the other way. But when we resist God’s ways we find we’re trapped, like Jonah in the belly of the fish, stuck in brokenness, anger, fear.

And yet, even in belly-of-the-fish kinds of times, we are not alone. God is active and involved in our world and God will not let us go. When we feel stuck in our opposition to God’s ways we can trust that even then, God is with us and God is working. God in Jesus spent three days in the belly of the tomb. God will not abandon us but instead comes to be with us, set us free and to raise us to new life.

The God who is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love sets us free and raises us up for lives of justice and kindness for the sake of this whole world.

Let’s take a moment for prayer.