A Place at the Table

Messiah Lutheran, Spokane

Nov. 10, 2024

John 15:1-8

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen. 

I am grateful that the sermon is not the only thing to carry the weight of today. Music, prayers, the Lord’s Supper, rituals, blessings, and more music, will all help us move through emotions. We need it all to celebrate the many years of Messiah Lutheran’s ministry and to grieve the completion of that ministry. 

Likewise, I love that you selected John chapter 15 as the gospel text for today. Although, I started to prepare this sermon on election day, and I was not crazy about how it convicted me. How easy it is, I was reminded, to turn to anything and everything else than the true vine? I could actually feel myself veering to certain candidates, specific issues, movements in my home state of Idaho and across the country. If we can win, I thought to myself, then I will have all the sustenance I need, all the belonging I need. How foolish but how easy it is to veer off in any direction but Jesus, the true vine.

Thanks be to God for all the ministries and congregations across the Northwest Intermountain Synod, the ELCA, and the whole Christian Church that have been places to tell a different narrative, a life-giving narrative, a story that is always true: Jesus is the vine, and you are the branches. Today we celebrate that Messiah Lutheran has been such a place to proclaim and hear this good news in North Spokane since 1951. 

Notice, if you will, that Jesus’ statement is declarative: I am the vine, and you are the branches. There are no qualifiers, no conditions, no if, then. There is nothing we do to earn being a branch, whether as a person or community. Washed in the font and showered with promises, you are connected to the vine forever, even if I try to escape it and find nourishment and love and belonging elsewhere. Instead of if/then, what we have is a because/therefore. Because you are the branches connected to the vine, therefore you will bear fruit.

I asked our synod executive admin Cathy Steiner to send me a history of Messiah Lutheran. What I read there was years of not just being part of the vine but bearing fruit in so many ways—loving children and adults in the neighborhood and making sure they knew the abundance of God’s love and mercy, lifting up future pastors who went on to share the gospel elsewhere, calling associate pastors who came here and who were loved into being servant leaders, and utilizing the gift of music to praise God, cry out to God, and bring unity to the followers of Jesus gathered in these walls.

As much as we celebrate today, it would be disingenuous to not name the grief as well. I was surprised how I mourned when Emmanuel, Cheney closed. They were my internship congregation for one mere year, and it hit me hard. And so, I cannot fathom what those of you who have called this place home for so many years are feeling. Please do not diminish your grief; make room for it, acknowledge it when it arises, tell stories, journal, use all the stories to move through that grief when it comes. And give thanks to God, because we worship a God who can hold all our sorrow and grief.

In grief, it might be natural to develop a case of what one of my closest friends calls a case of the should haves. We should have done this. Our Pastor should have done this. That member should have. The bishop or synod should have. I should have.  In my experience, the should haves usually only leads to a cycle of blaming and shaming, neither of which leads to transformation, growth, or bearing fruit. In fact, blame and shame are things I presume we are better off pruning. As with a funeral in which we acknowledge that the person at the center had imperfections, go ahead and name that this congregation’s journey had bumps and difficulties. The Holy Spirit bore fruit despite them and is bearing fruit still.

I hope you take some comfort, though it might be small today, that even in completion, you are bearing fruit. Instead of a multi-plex business office or luxury condos being built here, this building will be inhabited by another church, which means more gospel proclamation, more singing praises to God, more people finding a welcome, more children knowing the love of Jesus Christ, more branches connected to the true vine.

Those of you who feel like you will have no church home, you are still connected to the vine. Jesus the vine is tenacious. The seal made on your brow at baptism can never be rubbed off. A strange part of being bishop is being somewhat of a wanderer. I have a new home congregation, but they tease me about my attendance. It can be unmooring to step into a new sanctuary Sunday after Sunday, but after a year I know what to look for.

In our Lutheran tradition I can depend on certain places and symbols to ground me. They are the same ones we will give thanks for today: table, font, place for the scripture and proclamation. These are the places where we are sure to meet the Word, God incarnate, Jesus, the vine who gives life. And though their size changes, the color of wood varies, the decorative etchings telling a local history, they are in all our Lutheran sanctuaries. 

And seeing them reminds me that every congregation, every single one, is temporal. Every congregation has a lifespan, just like every living creature. What goes on and on and on is the body of Christ gathered around the means of grace and sent forth into the world. Much as I love big beautiful historic sanctuaries, they are not necessary for people to partake of the bread of life or the cup of salvation. And so, I know that you will find new communities with whom to worship, impossible as that might sound today. You will continue to hear the story of God’s forgiveness and love for you. Jesus is the vine, and you are the branches—even still. 

Thanks be to God for the ministry and ministries of Messiah Lutheran, thanks be to God for a new church which will take over stewardship of this place and this building, thanks be to God for the ministry that will happen through the legacy gifts of Messiah, and thanks be to God that our hope and trust are in Jesus the vine, no one and nothing else.

Meggan Manlove

St. Paul, Chewelah

John 8:31-36

It’s an honor to be with you for this Reformation Sunday. Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen. In the world of grant writing, when you approach a foundation about funds for additional staff there is an industry term—capacity building.  It’s called capacity building because the foundation hopes that instead of returning to its well of financial resources, your organization will hire a staff person who will raise money and create programs. He or she will increase your capacity.  

Reformation Sunday lends itself well to considering what capacity building does the Lutheran church, specifically the ELCA and churches like St. Paul, have at its disposal for the next 5-10-50-100 years? We can provide safe places for people to ask questions and have discussions—about scripture, faith, science, economics, literature. This is pure gift for a community, the nation, and the world.  And it is a natural part of who we are. At the same time, we are not a place where anything goes. Like Martin Luther, there are still some non-negotiables we confess and then declare, “Here we stand.”

Also, part of our capacity is our affinity to Ecumenism. Breaking up the church 500+ years ago is not something to celebrate. We continue to build relationships nationally and locally with other Protestant denominations. This coming week the Lutheran World Federation will celebrate the 25^th anniversary of the signing of the Joint Declaration of Justification, the culmination of rich Roman Catholic-Lutheran dialogue.  Several years ago, Pope Francis and the leader of the Lutheran World Federation celebrated a Service of the Word together in Sweden.  

A leader in our church says that the second great gift of the Reformation, after being saved by grace through faith, is the understanding of vocation.  People who encounter Jesus want to connect their faith, with their daily living and our tradition gives us the language. Every person has multiple callings—parent, child, mentor, teacher, doctor, accountant, custodian and others.  

And, our greatest capacity lies in the text from this morning’s gospel.  Jesus said, “You will know the truth and the truth will make you free.” These are well-known and oft-cited words, though increasingly people do not know the source. They are literally inscribed in stone on many educational buildings, including the Bond Chapel attached to my alma mater—the Divinity School of the University of Chicago, but also the headquarters of the CIA. These words have sometimes been turned into a kind of loyalty oath in Christian circles. But using Jesus’ words as a motto for knowledge and power or as a demand for right belief completely misses the mark. We can easily fall into the trap of believing our effort and our understanding will bring life. We hear a demand for our work and miss God’s word of promise.

What does Jesus mean by “truth” and “freedom”? Does it mean, if we just know enough and behave well enough, we will attain freedom? And isn’t freedom the problem after all? We have been given free will, the argument goes, and that is what has gotten us into trouble. Free will is blamed as the source of evil. Salvation is found in somehow escaping from freedom, as “surrendering to God’s will” which usually becomes a set of moral obligations. It can force us into trusting only right knowledge…right doctrine…right behavior. 

But the Gospel of Jesus Christ has a different way of telling the human story: Humankind is not free despite what it might think about its proud lineage or powers. Humankind is deeply, hopelessly in captivity to sin and death. Jesus and his promise open a way to freedom, forgiveness, grace, and life. It is God who makes you free. It is not up to you. You do not have to live your lives constantly in fear of punishment, constantly trying to do the right thing. Paralyzed by your own fruitless, exhausting attempts at self-justification. Always looking over your shoulder.

A favorite scholar [Robert Capon] writes this about freedom, “If we are ever to enter fully into the glorious liberty of the children of God, we are going to have to spend more time thinking about freedom than we do. The church, by and large, has a poor record of encouraging freedom. She has spent so much time inculcating in us the fear of making mistakes that she has made us like ill-taught piano students: we play our songs, but we never really hear them, because our main concern is not to make music, but to avoid some flub that will get us in trouble.” 

Think of the systems we have erected, and been trapped in to keep us all in line. We can’t hear the music. And what heavenly music do we miss because we cannot hear? The promise of freedom. You miss the reality that your freedom has been realized through the death and resurrection of Jesus. In our bondage, it has become all about us. Luther’s definition of sin, “the soul curved in on itself” traps us in our own echo chamber.

Pontius Pilate famously asked, “What is truth?” By our definitions, the truth Jesus announces that sets us free leads us to ask the same question. Is truth right doctrine? Is truth right knowledge? Is it something we must attain? The truth that comes through Jesus is not moral instruction or the right thing to do or even behavior, but God love and mercy. When Jesus promises that you will know the truth and the truth will make you free, he was speaking of a person who is true, who remains true. 

The one who remains true is merciful, forgiving love brings life and freedom to the world. This truth is not information that can be taken and used to exploit and betray others, nor is it a secret code. It is Jesus’ promise to be true – true to God’s love and true to you despite all of your betrayals. When Jesus announces, “I am the way, the truth and the life,” Jesus is telling you that he is the embodiment of God’s compassionate mercy, true to the very end. Even truer than death.

Here is the good news. Here is the Gospel that Martin Luther discovered and that set him free. This is the truth that forms you into God’s liberated people. It is God’s promise that the former things are past. That the new covenant means not just a fresh start or another try for humankind, not just a little tweaking or a new page on a report card, no keeping account of future sins, but a sovereign promise pure and simple. In Christ, the one who is true, you are free.

Breathe that in for a moment. Free from the domination of sin, free from self-justification and self-righteousness, free from excluding people, free even from being Lutheran. And, since this freedom has been given by the one who is truer than death – you are free from death and freed for life. You are free to live in this truth and dare – dare anything – dare everything. And listen…you can hear the music of the one who loves us and is true.

Sermon preached for Bishop’s Fall Convocation Closing Worship.

Mark 10:32-45

It is easy to be hard on James and John in this morning’s scripture passage. Jesus has just predicted his death for the third time, the most detailed description, and they ask about being seated at his right and left hand, in Jesus’ glory. What are they thinking?

The truth is that this is not strange behavior, even or maybe especially for revolutionaries. Remember, that’s what they believe they are witnessing–a revolution, a change in power, and they are not completely wrong. It’s just that Jesus’ way of turning the world upside down is not what they anticipate, even when he has just spelled it out for them.

Consider those jockeying for power shortly after this country’s revolution. If you have seen Hamiltonon stage or on the screen, picture everyone in the first act. They may have their differences, but they are all so passionate about the revolution, being finished as colonies and continuing the American experiment. Act One ends with Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr both on stage singing to their newborn babies: “You will come of age with our young nation. We’ll bleed and fight for you. We’ll make it right for you. If we lay a strong enough foundation. We’ll pass it on to you, we’ll give the world to you.” There seems to be so much unity.

Alas, Act Two is all about Hamilton, Burr, and Thomas Jefferson jockeying for power. There is palpable tension between their love for the new nation, the vision for what could be, and who is going to leave the greatest legacy, or as the song goes, “who’s gonna be in the room where it happens.”

We could think it’s just revolutionaries like James and John and the Founding Fathers who get caught up in the desire for glory. On careful reflection, this passage always hits a little close to home. I remember the first year Trinity New Hope affordable housing participated in the Avenues for Hope campaign, a state-wide online fundraiser for nonprofits involved in housing and homelessness. Prize money is given to organizations who have the most dollars or most unique donors statewide and by region. 

There were a few days towards the end of that first campaign that Trinity New Hope was neck and neck with a nonprofit from Boise, for third place in our region. Getting third would have meant another $1000. I got just a little obsessed with the glory of third prize. I finally laid back on my pillow and decided it was ridiculous. We were all working to impact housing and homelessness after all! It was a strong reminder of the allure of glory.

James and John are not the only disciples enticed by visions of their own glory or of a triumphant reign. The other ten disciples fume over the brothers’ bid to be the most prominent. Jesus corrects their vision by holding up the conventions of the Roman Empire’s political authorities as negative examples. They regularly “overpower” and “tyrannize” others. They rely on coercion and control to maintain their dominance.  

Earlier in Mark we read the story of John the Baptizer’s death. In John’s case, the authorities’ self-interest, and self-protection trump justice to ensure John’s death. Jesus’ trial will display a similar kind of strong-armed political theater.

In absolute contrast, greatness among Jesus’ followers is measured by their ability to live as servants. That life will probably also include suffering oppression at the hands of those who wield power. Jesus will embody weakness in his trial and death. He will affirm the promise of his glorification and at the same time relinquish the power to prevail over others.

Jesus says, “For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.” Jesus’ death will be an example for such a way of living. His death will exemplify a radical rejection of authority and privilege. What makes the rejection so radical is the identity of the one who does it. It is Jesus, God’s own uniquely authorized agent.
 

Consider all that that one word means—ransom.  Jesus’ mention of a “ransom” means that his death will be more than just an inspiring example or a martyr’s tragic protest against an unjust system. The word suggests that his death does something; it secures a release. “Ransom” does not mean a specific type of payment, as this passage has often been interpreted, especially when paired with the RCL complimentary text from Isaiah 53.

Here, Jesus is talking with his disciples about power and servanthood. A ransom is a liberation created by divine strength, not by payment. Jesus declares that God, through Jesus’ death, will free people from oppression and captivity to another power. We had a foreshadowing of this earlier in the gospel, “No one can enter a strong man’s house and plunder his goods unless the strong man is first bound; then indeed his house may be plundered.” Well, here comes the plundering and liberation, but not in the way anyone anticipated. 

The baptism he is baptized with is the way of the cross. The cup he drinks is the way of crucifixion by a world ruled by domination. Jesus has come to serve and to give his life away for you and the entire cosmos. Through Jesus’ death, God frees you from oppression and captivity to another power.

The disciples’ misunderstandings would make us think that they never did learn the discipleship Jesus was teaching. We might thing they never did understand that Jesus freed them to serve others. But the disciples did learn. The early church did preach Jesus’ gospel and upside-down way of life where the first are last and the last are first. And such discipleship has been carried down through the centuries. 

Consider our hymn of the day. So often poetry and art and music can say more than a well-formed essay. In the first verse, Pastor Susan Briehl names God’s glory multiple times. In the second verse we sing, “power without peer, you bend to us in weakness, emptied, you draw near.” Then, “beauty unsurpassed, you are despised, rejected, scorned, you hold us fast.” And then in the final verse, “life that never ends, you show your love by dying, dying for your friends, and we behold you living.” We sing succinctly the paradox of Jesus crucifixion and resurrection which liberates you and me from the forces of evil and liberates us for the servanthood Jesus modeled.

This liberation that you know so well as leaders in the church is like nothing else. It’s why you are all still in this. You trust the promises of the font and altar, the promises for you and those in your care. And you and I get to be the stewards of this liberating message the world still so desperately needs. What a calling and what a gift. Thanks be to God.