Second Sunday after Epiphany
January 14, 2018
Kurt Hellmann, Guest Preacher
Good Shepherd Lutheran Church
Decorah, Iowa
Rev. Amy Z. Larson

Scriptures for the day: 1 Samuel 3:1-10 [11-20]; Psalm 139:1-6, 13-18; 1 Corinthians 6:12-20; John 1:43-51

Kurt Hellmann’s Sermon

Maybe it was my initial lack of understanding of the language, or maybe it was a cultural norm I was just starting to get used to, but invitations were usually voiced with a one simple word — MOK — which translated from the Khmer simply means Come.

Or better yet, if I was within view, an invitation would simply be given by a beckoning with the hand. However, there is one significant distinction to note with how that is done in Southeast Asia. Here in the US, it’s common to wave someone over with your palm facing up. In Cambodia, it’s actually palm down. According to our own culture that would appear as a shooing-away motion, in fact the opposite of invitation to come over. Needless to say, it was discombobulating and took some time to acclimate to these types of invitations of beckoning or invitations of just a single word without additional explanation.

There was one particular weekend where I received an invitation that I’ll never forget. I was with one of my closest friends and co-workers and his family at the time; his name is Prasith. Shortly after meeting his relatives I received the succinct and classic invitation–MOK. So I promptly followed them into their car and we drove off together.

After several kilometers on winding and dusty roads, we stopped at a large water reservoir and got out to stand at its shores. After a few moments, Prasith’s aunt began to tell me of how she built this reservoir we were overlooking. She was one of the thousands of Cambodians that were forced into a labor camp to build this 40 years ago—a time in Cambodia commonly referred to as the Khmer Rouge. In 1975, a regime rose to power and sought to bring Cambodia back to its ancient glory, an agrarian utopia of sorts. A period of genocide ensued while the regime targeted any Cambodian that was educated, religious, or held public status in fear that these Cambodians would pose a threat to the regime’s ultimate and horrific goals. As a result, nearly a fourth of the nation’s population died–equating to 2 million lives lost–including two of Prasith’s aunt’s brothers who died in the harsh working condition of the reservoir we were now overlooking.

While I still don’t know the right words to describe the overwhelming heartbreak I felt that day, I do however know that I was, and am today, glad I was able to hear her story. It’s an immense privilege to hear such a personal, painful, yet eye-opening experience. And while I felt powerless to help, simply listening to her offered a way where I could help hold onto the story and its hardship. A way of helping that went beyond my hands or my feet.

So here we are in the season of epiphany in the liturgical year. In the gospel today we read about the cynic Nathanael experiencing his own epiphany, his own personal realization, and coming to a new perspective that Jesus Christ was indeed the Son of God. Needing only a semblance of connection with Jesus, his suspicion, doubt, and negativity about this man “from Nazareth” suddenly vanished. And it’s important to note in this story that there is a catalyst for this change—a simple invitation from Philip, an invitation of three words: COME AND SEE. And it was these three words which ultimately allowed Nathanael to undergo a miraculous change of heart— obliterating his initial damaging preconceived notions.

I think today we all have our presumptions and fears about encountering the unknown or the unfamiliar—of person or place. And it’s in such instances where the invitation of “come and see” is not necessarily welcomed; or if it is, it’s met with stigma or cynicism. This hesitation or reluctance is seen in the narratives and single-sided stories that are present all around us—across our politics, economics, and cultural landscape. Our presumptions seek to categorize people or places into a single pigeonhole, or even a single word.

Our president made remarks making headlines last week, bashing entire places through an ignorant blanket statement about nations and their lack of worth. It’s sadly uncanny how similar the words of Donald Trump are to those of Nathanael that we read today. Nathanael asks Philip with a mocking tone, “What good can come from Nazareth?” The parallels to President Trump’s words about immigration are stark. His words, I think, can best be paraphrased through this question of Nathanael nearly word for word: “What good can come out of THOSE [   ] countries?” Feel free to insert the expletive yourself.

And let’s be clear, the president’s words are cruel, racist, and hurtful at best; at their worst they steal away the aptitude, beauty, dignity, and humanness from places and people in Haiti and nations in Africa. it not only saddens me, but disturbs me at just how narrow and ignorant the perspective present in our current leadership is. I think there’s an immediate need for an invitation to be offered to COME and to SEE. And, as the YAGM program currently sends dozens of young adults to serve in 4 countries across the continent of Africa every year, I’m sure our young adults past and present would be happy to oblige in extending the invitation. Speaking of my own experience in Cambodia, of which I’m sure our president would have no kind words to share, I bore witness to people and their stories that exemplify incredible strength, perseverance, and a sense of fearless and pure hope that I have yet to witness anywhere else in my 23 years of life.

I think this invitation of to COME and to SEE goes beyond just the seeing, though. It extends into our other senses. This invitation is to Come and Taste, Come and Hear, Come and Smell, Come and Feel. There is more to this world; its people and places are so much more than a single category or narrative.

To explain further, I want to share about a favorite pastime in my host community. This activity is called GOY LAYNG—which translates to “sit play”. GOY LAYNG is the colloquial equivalent for “hanging out” or spending unstructured time together. But with one distinction, GOY LAYNG requires being stationary with others, to sit and relax, to simply talk, to enjoy the breeze or scenery, to taste sweet mango or freshly sliced papaya, or to share a coca cola in the shade—all in the presence of neighbors, friends, family, or even strangers. The pastime of GOY LAYNG is an intentional time to relish in the proximity and closeness of other people. In the grand scheme of things, the act of simply being with other people is the epitome of what is means to accept the invitation of to Come and See. I learned that simply being proximate with people leads to listening, understanding, and transformation by the places and stories I encountered.

Through this activity, I also learned that mission and service is not only done with our hands or our feet, but more so with our eyes, ears and our hearts. This way of service is best depicted by the ELCA’s theme of mission called accompaniment, which aims to walk – not in front or behind, but alongside, shoulder to shoulder – with our neighbors in efforts of solidarity, of mutuality, and of interdependence—both here and across the world.

And sure, the invitation to engage the unknown or unfamiliar may be much harder to accept or act upon. But let us remember that the invitation is present to be with those painted inaccurately with single-sided stories—more often than not marginalized or vulnerable groups of people. The invitation may come in ways much different from those with which we may be familiar, such as a downward facing palm, one simple and short word without much explanation. But that’s where we as followers of Christ are called to be – in those places, being present with others, extending ourselves past what is comfortable, past what is familiar, past what is known.

To end, I’ll share words from Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. that aptly encourage us with the invitation to simply, yet actively be with others across our community and world.

“We have before us the glorious opportunity to inject a new dimension of love into the veins of our civilization” — Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. 

Come and See. And taste. And feel. And smell. And hear. The invitation awaits. Amen.

Baptism of Our Lord
January 7, 2018
Baptism of Our Lord
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.

As Jesus was baptized, God called him Beloved. Before Jesus did anything publicly, before any of his ministry, God claimed Jesus as Beloved Son.

This name was spoken with such force that it permeated Jesus’ entire life and work. He went on to name others as God’s Beloved and offer them healing, welcome and blessing. He gave of himself freely and fully trusting that he belonged to God. That name Beloved, spoken over Jesus, had enormous power.

We, too, are all Beloved of God. And God names us so in the waters of baptism. Before we do anything, God announces that we are claimed, chosen, beloved children of God.

Being named as God’s Beloved has the power to permeate our entire life and all our work. But, sometimes we forget who we are.

We need people like Fayette to remind us of our true name and what it means for us. Fayette’s story was shared by her pastor, Rev. Janet Wolf.

“Fayette lived with mental illness and lupus and without a home. She found her way to the [church I serve]… and joined the new member class. The conversation about baptism especially grabbed Fayette’s imagination. During the class, Fayette would ask again and again, ‘And when I’m baptized, I’m named …?’

The class learned to respond, ‘Beloved, precious child of God, and beautiful to behold’ ‘Oh, yes!’ she’d say, and then the discussion could resume.”

The day of Fayette’s baptism came. “She went under, came up spluttering, and cried, ‘And now I’m named …?’ And we all sang, ‘Beloved, precious child of God, and beautiful to behold.’ ‘Oh, yes!’ she shouted as she danced around.”

“Two months later”, Rev. Wolf reports, “I received a phone call. Fayette had been attacked and beaten and was at the county hospital. So I went. I could see her from a distance, pacing back and forth. When I got to the door, I heard, ‘I am beloved ….’ She turned, saw me, and said, ‘I am beloved, precious child of God, and ….’ catching sight of herself in the mirror – hair sticking up, blood and tears streaking her face, dress torn, dirty, and rebuttoned askew – she started again, ‘I am beloved, precious child of God, and …’ She looked in the mirror again and declared, ‘… and God is still working on me. If you come back tomorrow, I’ll be so beautiful I’ll take your breath away!’” Fayette knew the truth of her identity deep in her bones. She knew that no matter what happened to her, she was God’s beloved.

We whose lives are more secure than Fayette’s can often forget that we, and all people, are God’s beloved.

We define ourselves and others by how much or little we accomplish and by all the other titles and roles we carry. We judge ourselves harshly, calling ourselves all sorts of names other than beloved We judge others harshly refusing to see that they too are children of God. We forget that we are all precious in God’s sight, not because of anything we’ve done or haven’t done, but because God creates, claims, and blesses us.

This is why we need worship: to be reminded again and again that we are forgiven and set free to live as God’s beloved, to give us eyes to see others for who they truly are. This is why we need baptism and reminders of our baptism to help us know what God already knows – we are God’s beloved.

This name has the power to define our whole lives. This name gives us a deep awareness of who and whose we are. This name calls us to live in such a way that others will know themselves as beloved by God – especially those who’ve been told that they are somehow less than children of the God who created them. This name allows us to give ourselves freely and fully for the sake of the world, trusting that we are held in God.

Of course, as Jesus and as Fayette knew all too well, being named as God’s Beloved does not mean life will be easy.

When God claimed Jesus as Beloved Son, it wasn’t a comforting, warm fuzzy experience – the name was spoken as the heavens were torn apart. The whole creation, the whole religious order was shaken by what God was doing in Jesus. The name was spoken right before Jesus was driven into the desert to face temptation and into his public ministry that would lead to his death. Being called God’s Son put Jesus on a collision course with all the forces that defy God.

And yet in baptism, God had said yes to Jesus and so Jesus was able to say yes to his God-given identity and purpose again and again. In the face of trials and temptations, as the crowds pressed in, when death stalked, Jesus said yes to God with his whole life. And God was faithful – God said yes to Jesus again and raised him to new life.

Fayette also heard God’s yes in her baptism and she too was able to say, “oh yes” to her God-given identity again and again. In the face of great suffering, when all evidence pointed to the contrary, she could say, “Oh yes, I am God’s beloved, and God isn’t finished with me yet.”

This truth will carry us when we face all that life can throw at us. When we are tempted, attacked, beaten down and weary, we can trust in the power of God’s proclamation – you are my beloved. When we are on top of the world and showered with acclamations, we can trust this deeper, more lasting truth about ourselves that God declares. God has said yes to you; you are “Beloved, precious child of God, and beautiful to behold.” Oh, yes. Amen.

We’ll take a moment of reflection and then rise to join in our hymn, a change from the bulletin. We’ll sing Hymn #454 Remember and Rejoice.

Christmas Eve 2017
Good Shepherd Lutheran Church
Decorah, Iowa
Rev. Amy Zalk Larson

Click here to read scripture passages for Christmas Eve worship.

Beloved of God, grace to you and peace in the name of Jesus who is God’s love made flesh.

The angel said, “Do not be afraid for see I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people.” Those words have been repeated for centuries now in houses of worship, in religious settings. They have taken on a churchy, spiritualized feel.

But this message bringing “good news of great joy” came first to ordinary people who were just going about their business – to shepherds keeping watch over their fields by night. Good news showed up right where they were.

Where has good news shown up for you recently? For me, it was last weekend as I was watching the new Star Wars movie with my daughter, Abby. Many people approach Star Wars with religious fervor. I’m not that devoted but I do enjoy the stories and movie theater popcorn; and Abby and I wanted a break from Christmas preparations. But then all of a sudden there was one powerful line that spoke such good news to me: “That’s how we’re gonna win. Not fighting what we hate, saving what we love.” Not fighting what we hate, saving what we love.

That line spoke such good news to me that tears just started streaming down my face in the middle of the movie theater. Abby was a little surprised but, I decided to just let the tears flow and ponder those words. I realized that is what God does for our world in Jesus. God doesn’t fight all that is wrong; God saves us with love. God saves us from despair, anger and hatred. God sets us free to hope, to love and to be part of God’s work of saving this beautiful world. In the midst of what is wrong, God comes to us in Jesus to save us.

And God knows there is so much that is so wrong with the world – these days and back in those days when Jesus first came.

In those days, Luke tells us, a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. Which is to say, in those days there was an Emperor with a huge ego who ruled one area but made decrees about “all the world.” He decreed that all should be registered, not only to count them, but so that he could tax them heavily. This registration involved grueling travel for ordinary people like Mary and Joseph. Daily life under the oppressive Roman Empire was already difficult enough and the unjust new taxation added insult to injury.

Much has changed, but in these days we too are thinking about taxation and the challenges it poses. We too live in a time when so many world leaders have huge egos, when oppression and injustice are still so present. These days are shaped by events that do affect “all the world”- climate change, nuclear weapons, mass migration on a scale the world has never seen. And even with so many advancements in technology and health care, still there is so much heartache in daily life.

God could choose to fight all this. Scripture shows us that God hates injustice and oppression. God hates arrogance and greed and disregard for any part of God’s creation.

God could choose to fight all this and all that is wrong in our world. And there are times that we would prefer a god who would come with power and might to crush everything that is wrong, forgetting that all of that lives within each of us as well.

Instead, God comes as a vulnerable baby in a manger so that hope can be born among us, so that love can grow. God comes as one of us, to live among us, so that we might know that God is present in every aspect of our lives, in all of what it means to be human.

God is present in this world of taxes and weapons, global threats and daily toils. God is present in the movie theater, the meeting, the kitchen, the classroom, in the challenges of bedtime with small children. God is present in all of life. God is present in Jesus who chooses always to love, who cannot be stopped from loving even when we fight that love, even when we would crucify that love. Nothing can stop Jesus from being present to us in his word, in his body and blood, in the gathered community, in all of creation.

This ever-present love without end frees us from despair. It frees us to join God’s work of loving and saving this beautiful world. This is how God wins. This is how love wins, how hope prevails. This is how God saves us and all that God loves.

“Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior who is Christ the Lord.”

Good news has arrived – Good news that invites us to see, with wide-open eyes, that God has come.

So, share in the wonder of this night. Let a song of joy arise in you. Love is here.

Thanks be to God.

Third Sunday of Advent
December 17, 2017
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, the true light.

Three of our scriptures for today focus on joy, on rejoicing. And God knows we need some joy – not holiday cheer, not forced, pretend happiness, but real joy. Rejoicing helps us to defy the power of evil so that it does not define or defeat us. Rejoicing helps us to focus on what we love, rather than on all that is wrong. Rejoicing helps us witness to the light that shines day and night, even when it is hidden.

Someone who seeks to rejoice always and who, by his witness, helps me to rejoice is Fr. Greg Boyle, a Jesuit priest famous for his gang intervention programs in Los Angeles. He’s the founder and executive director of Homeboy Industries which employs former gang members. In a recent interview, Fr. Boyle shared a story about one of these “homies”, as they call themselves, who asked him for a blessing. He recalls, “I have a homie named Louie, who’s just turned 18, and he’s kind of a difficult kid. He’s exasperating, and he’s whiny. And he works for me, although ‘work’ may be too strong a verb.

So, this kid, Louie, I’m talking to him and he’s complaining about something. And finally, at the end of it, he says, “Hey, G, give me a bless, yeah?” (Which apparently is the way all these guys ask Fr. Boyle to bless them.) I said, “Sure.” So, he comes around to my side of the desk, he knows the drill, and he bows his head and I put my hands on his shoulder. Well, his birthday had been two days before, so it gave me an opportunity to say something to him. And I said, “You know, Louie, I’m proud to know you and my life is richer because you came into it. When you were born, the world became a better place. And I’m proud to call you my son, even though — and I don’t know why I decided to add this part — at times, you can really be a huge pain.” And he looks up and he smiles. And he says, “The feeling’s mutual.”

Fr. Boyle reflects on this, “You want people to recognize the truth of who they are: that they’re exactly what God had in mind when God made them … we’re all called to be enlightened witnesses: people who, through kindness and tenderness and focused attention of love, return people to themselves. And in the process, you’re returned to yourself. Maybe I returned Louie to himself,” Fr. Boyle says, “But there is no doubt that he returned me to myself.”

(Transcript from interview with Fr. Greg Boyle on radio program On Being with Krista Tippet).

In our Gospel reading for today, John serves as that kind of enlightened witness – a witness who seeks to return people to themselves and to the light.

John knows the truth of who he is. He knows that he’s not the long-awaited Messiah, not Elijah returned from the dead, not the prophet, not the light. He is a witness, a voice crying out in the wilderness testifying to the true light. John recognizes the truth of who he is because he has been enlightened by the true light. When he was just a baby in his mother’s womb, he leapt for joy when Mary entered the room, pregnant with the baby Jesus. Even then, John knew he was in the presence of the true light. Even then, he bore witness – leaping for joy.

As an enlightened witness, John calls God’s people to repent, to prepare themselves for the coming of their Savior. He tells people the truth about their lives, hoping to return them to themselves and to their God, hoping that they too will become enlightened witnesses. John never forgets who he is. He is not the light. He is a witness to the light. So, it is for us. We are not the light but we are called to be enlightened witnesses. We’re called to witness to the light, even when it is hidden.

Witnesses watch, listen and pay attention so that they can testify to what they’ve seen and heard. We are called to pay attention to the light – to look, expectantly, for places and people where the light is at work, to recognize the light within others and around us. We’re called to notice the light, name the light, and rejoice in that light. The light that is the Word made flesh, the light that is Jesus the Christ is bringing good news to the oppressed, is binding up the brokenhearted, is comforting all who mourn. The light is replacing our faint spirit with a mantle of praise. The light is creating joy.

Theologian Henri Nouwen describes the difference between joy and happiness: “While happiness is dependent on external conditions, joy is the experience of knowing that you are unconditionally loved and that nothing – sickness, failure, emotional distress, oppression, war, or even death—can take that love away.”

So, you enlightened witnesses, receive a blessing on this day of joy, “I’m proud to know you and my life is richer because you came into it. When you were born, the world became a better place.” You may not feel like it most days, but the light of Christ is replacing your faint spirit with a mantle of praise. You’ve sowed with tears, but you will reap with songs of joy. 

Rejoice and bear witness to this light.

Amen.

Sermon for Sunday, December 10, 2017 – “Homecoming”

Second Sunday of Advent
December 10, 2017
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 from the One who is, who was and who is to come. Amen.

This time of year, our hearts often turn toward home – whatever home means for us. We long to be with loved ones. We long to feel at home in the places we live and we want those places to feel cozy and welcoming. As winter presses in, we crave warmth, love and connection. It is a season that calls us home.

This time in the church year also speaks of home. In Advent, we prepare for God to come in the flesh, to make a home among us. We look toward the end of time when we’re promised that God will make a home among mortals and dwell among us. Then all people will be at home in God, all people will know God’s peace and well-being. Advent calls us home.

Yet, this is also a season in which we’re often painfully aware of how we and others are so very far from home in the fullest sense of the word. We are so far from the peace, harmony, well-being we seek. Physical and emotional distances feel magnified this time of year, as does grief and heartache.

As winter sets in, we become more aware of those who have no homes and those whose homes are unsafe for whatever reason. When we see all the injustice and brokenness around us, we see how far we are from God’s dream for our world, from how things will be when God makes a home among us.

As the Advent season calls us home, it also serves to highlight the many ways we are living in exile – cut off from our true home in God, from the well-being God longs for us all to know.

Exile was also the reality for God’s people at the time of the prophet Isaiah, the reality addressed in our first reading today. The people turned away from God so God gave them up to their chosen separation and exile. They were conquered by the Babylonian Empire. The city of Jerusalem and their holy temple were destroyed. The people were taken into exile in Babylon. They were so very far from home and felt cut off from God.

At first, God’s people lamented and cried out to God to bring them home. But after some time in exile, many of them assimilated into life in Babylon. They grew comfortable and prosperous. They let go of longing for something different, of yearning for home. The way home was perilous, risky and uncertain and many of them chose to remain in Babylon even after they were free to leave. Their complacency kept them stuck in exile.

Other exiles resisted assimilation but lived with only anger and despair. They knew they didn’t want to go along with a conquering, oppressive power but they’d lost hope that things could ever change. The temple had been destroyed, God must have failed. Their despair and despondency led them to remain in Babylon rather than set out on a difficult journey home.

In our day, in our own sense of exile, we often respond in similar ways. Yet our complacency and our despondent anger only serve to deepen the exile. We end up even further from God and our true home.

With so many obstacles within and around us, how will we find our way to well-being, peace, harmony? How we will find our way home?

The good news announced by the prophet Isaiah, the good news announced by John the Baptist, the good news for us today is that God finds us. God comes to us.

The prophet Isaiah tells us who live in exile, then and now, “here is your God … See he comes with might, he will gather the lambs in his arms, and carry them in his bosom, and gently lead the mother sheep.” God comes to lead us home.

We don’t have to get out of our complacency or despair on our own, we don’t have to find our way home through the wilderness. God overcomes all obstacles, within and without – every valley shall be lifted up, every mountain and hill be made low, the uneven ground shall become level, and the rough places a plain.

Isaiah tells us that God comes through the desert on a highway. In Babylon, highways were used by the people to carry their gods to the temples, to try to assert their superiority. Throughout the ancient world, highways were also used by kings and armies to conquer, display their might and acquire goods, people and power. God’s promises in Isaiah draw on that imagery – God will make a way through the desert, God will display glory and power. Yet God will do this not to conquer but to bring us home. God uses the image of the dominant culture of the time and reframes it to speak hope.

In Isaiah’s day, God led the people home and their exile ended. Yet, eventually the oppressive Roman Empire claimed power over them and the people knew exile again. It was into that exile that John the Baptist spoke announcing the good news of Jesus.

Ultimately, until the day when God makes a home among mortals, we will always have some sense of being exiles. Until that day we will not fully know the peace and well-being God longs for us to know.

Yet it is not up to us to find our way home; we are not alone on this journey. God has come to us in Jesus, in Jesus who comes to us again today in his body and blood. We can live as people of hope in the midst of exile, following God’s ways of justice and mercy, resisting complacency and despair. We can live in trust that God has come among us; we are not alone. We can live in joyful expectation that God is leading us to our full and ultimate home.

Let’s take a moment for silent prayer.