Under the Sea

The following is my "Intern's Message" for the May 2010 church newsletter.


The day after Easter, Chris and I took a mini-road-trip (a viajito, if you will) to the Olympic Peninsula to visit friends in Port Angeles and to check out the Tongue Point Marine Life Sanctuary, a collection of tide pools on the coast of the Strait of Juan de Fuca.

We’ve seen miniature tide-life before; the photos we’ve taken of barnacles, bull kelp, rockweed and their watery friends that plaster our apartment walls are proof enough of that. But we’d never seen anything like what we found at Tongue Point.

Anemones that transform their dull above-water appearances into incomprehensibly vibrant colors, hot pinks and electric greens, when submerged in water. Starfish – huge starfish! – in oranges and purples Crayola couldn’t rival. And an endless carpet of mollusks – a mollusk planet, really – we eventually got used to walking on top of.

What worlds lay just beyond our horizons? What colors have we yet to see, to paint with? What thriving ecosystems are already at our shores, just waiting to be discovered?

Yesterday I had the opportunity to hear Phyllis Tickle lecture at a nearby church in north Seattle. Tickle writes about “emerging” forms of Christianity, new ways of being and doing church that are part of an already-underway global shift that she believes will be as important as the Reformation.

As I listened to her muse about the future of global community and the future of the church, I thought about those tide pools and the vibrant worlds that flourished within them, worlds I’d never imagined could exist. Yet here they were, only a few hours from home. I wonder whether a discovery like our discovery of the tidepools is something like what God has in store for all of us in a future nearer than we think.

On May 2nd, Jerry Buss with be with us to lead a conversation during adult forum and to preach during worship. Jerry is the Director of Evangelical Outreach and Congregational Mission for the Northwest Washington Synod. I hope his visit will be one spark for an ongoing conversation about the vibrant discoveries God has in store for us here in this place, this year and in the years to come. Please join us.

I pray God’s blessing on all of us as one season of new life gives way to another.

In Christ,
Intern Matt

h2o

So, the theme of this blog was to be "finding grace in the pacific northwest," but aside from occasionally posted sermons it hasn't really turned out that way....until now!

Last week, Chris and I were poking around the Seattle neighborhood of Magnolia, really for no other reason that (a) we have this deck of Seattle neighborhood walks and we had a Magnolia walk we hadn't done yet and (b) the Magnolia walk had a bookstore and a bakery on it. We like both.

In the bookstore I stumbled upon the April issue of National Geographic. Pretty much the entire issue is devoted to water. There's even a section on "Sacred Waters" with photos of a Greek Orthodox baptism and a Mexican cenote among other examples. But of course, the coolest thing was the fold-out map, seen above, which now hangs in my office.

We call Earth "the blue planet" because it is so covered with water, but when we think of the vastness of Earth's water we usually think of the oceans. This map is different: it charts all the river systems of the earth, the veins of the earth. When depicted this way, we can see that even most of Earth's land is saturated with water!

Ok, so all this is obvious, I know. But the map hangs in my office now as a reminder that the same water in which I was baptized, the same water countless other people of myriad faiths have held sacred, have held to be a place where the divine omnipresence is especially present, that that water is EVERYWHERE.

So what does this have to do with the Pacific Northwest? Elsewhere in the NG issue there is a mapping of the relative water-stressed-ness of different regions of Earth. Guess which area has almost no water stress (relatively speaking)? Yep. Right here in el pacifico noreste.

I suppose it's unfair, and theologically suspect, to conclude that there's more divine presence here simply because there's more water here - though many a soul who has spent an afternoon gazing at the Puget Sound, with the frozen-water-capped Olympic mountains beyond, has been sorely tempted to do so.

But I will conclude this: If you want to find a reminder of grace in the Pacific Northwest, you don't have far to look, in almost any direction. Including, but not limited to, up.

Easter Breath

An advocacy sermon for Central Lutheran Church in Capitol Hill, Seattle, Washington
on the Third Sunday of Easter, 2010

Acts 9:1-6
Revelation 5:11-14
John 21:1-19

Eternal and all-merciful God, with all the angels and all the saints we laud your majesty and might. By the resurrection of your Son, show yourself to us and inspire us to follow Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

+++

Christ is Risen!

I love that we speak those words aloud throughout these seven Sundays of the Easter season. Of course, it would have been impossible to celebrate Easter for only one Sunday, because the more we hear about the resurrection, the more we see that while it begins at Christ’s empty tomb, it cannot be contained there.

New life overflows, spilling out of the tomb and into the lives of the disciples, spilling out of their locked doors and into the most public of spaces, spilling out of their little fishing boats and into all of creation. In today’s gospel Simon Peter even dives into the sea, as if he is going to share new life with the fish and urchins and bull kelp… but I’m getting ahead of myself.

For what interests me as much as the water Peter dives into is its cousin, the air, that invisible gaseous mixture of oxygen and nitrogen and traces of argon and carbon dioxide and other rarer and obscurer molecules that we are usually oblivious to but that we spend our lives swimming in, breathing it in and breathing it out.

The air moving in and out of us is one of many signs that we are alive. As the air moves in and out, so many things happen. Oxygen flows through our bloodstream and into our muscles, making it possible for us to move through the world. Those muscles can do a variety of things, including the manipulation of even more air to create sound in the form of speech and song. Breathing, speaking, singing, signs that we are alive.

Our Scriptures reflect this centrality of our respiratory system. In the opening chapters of Genesis, the very first thing the Creator does after forming humanity from the dust is to breathe into the new creature; only when it has breath and is able to breathe and speak in the world does the creature become “a living being.” Jesus does a similar thing in our gospel text last Sunday, when he breathes the breath of the Holy Spirit into his disciples, and sends them out of the locked doors to proclaim the gospel out there, in the world.

There is an awful irony, then, in the beginning of our reading from Acts this week. In it we find the movement of air, a respiratory system at work. But is if this life, well, it does not seem to be quite what the Creator had in mind.

Our reading tells us that Saul, this wild child of God, is “breathing threats and murder.” It is a deathly breath. Saul gives this deathly breath voice, and asks the high priest for search warrants, powers of arrest, the right to lock up God’s living, breathing people. This is what Saul does with the air, moves it in and out of himself for a deathly purpose. Saul is breathing… sort of. Saul is alive… technically.

And yet, and yet. Saul is in a world that is beginning to overflow with Easter. He is about to become caught up in the resurrection of all things.

For as he was “going along,” the Scripture tells us, as he was “going along” somewhere between the high priest and the lowly disciples, as he was “going along” somewhere between the powerful and the persecuted, as he was “going along” as so many of us go along, Saul suddenly sees the light. Well, he doesn’t so much see the light as he is surrounded by the Light, overwhelmed by the Light, knocked off his high horse by the Light.

To the ground Saul goes. From the heights of the high priest he is brought low until he meets the dust. Dust: the source material out of which his creator formed him. Dust: the common thread he shares with the high priest and the disciple alike. Dust: the land swirling around in the air, bringing Saul face to face with the heart of creation itself.

Amid the dust arising around all around him Saul hears the voice of the crucified and risen One. Amid the dust arising the crucified and risen Christ speaks to Saul by name and tells him the truth about his deathly existence. And then, amid the dust arising the crucified and risen Christ brings Saul to life.

“Get up,” the voice commands him. The Greek word here for “get up,” anAstethi, might be more accurately translated “Arise.” It is the same word Peter will use in our reading next week when he raises Tabitha from the dead. Arise. Saul is not converted so much as he is resurrected.

Soon Saul is breathing again – but this time it is the breath of life, a breath resurrected.

For soon he finds himself in the presence of crucified people, and in their presence he finds himself filled with the windy and wild and life-giving air molecules of the Holy Spirit.

Soon he finds himself washed clean with still more molecules, hydrogen and oxygen joined together into water for a holy bath that makes him one with all of God’s crucified and risen people.

Soon he finds himself sharing a meal with these crucified and risen people, he finds himself sharing a meal with the very body of Christ.

And from that meal they goes forth together to live their new life, a new life which of course includes the continued movement of molecules through the air, breathing, speaking, singing. Saul now breathes the breath of life and out of his mouth will now come the good news of resurrection for all creation.

Saul will bring this good news, Christ tells us, this good news of creation-wide resurrection, to the most public of public places; he will bring it before the nations, before the rulers, before all of God’s people.

This year I have had the privilege of serving at the Lutheran Public Policy Office of Washington State. And in this work I have had the profound privilege of seeing new life everywhere: in communities, in the halls of power, and in congregations like this one, where faithful advocates like you carry out amazing advocacy ministries by taking the side of the marginalized and joining your voices to the chorus of those speaking the good news of justice and peace for all the earth.

I recently had one of these opportunities to see resurrection life taking place in the public square.

A group of faithful advocates had joined together at a rally for immigration reform in Occidental Park. We gathered with people who had streamed in from Walla Walla and Yakima and the Tri-Cities, from Vancouver and Anacortes and Bellingham, from White Center and Shoreline and Capitol Hill to breathe, to speak, to sing out in a chorus of voices calling out for the good news of justice and peace for all the earth.

One of the pastors who had gathered with us joined a throng of people on the stage who had lined up to offer greetings and to call for justice and peace in over thirty different languages. We can move the air in so many different ways yet still be breathing that same Holy Spirit air, still be speaking the truth about the deathly life we see all around us, still be singing the good news of the new life that God is raising up in all of creation.

It was for this that we have been raised, after all.

We may seem far from Saul and his radical resurrection. But we, too, can find ourselves on our knees, confronted by the reality of a world gone wrong. And so we come together here, in this place, where we are gathered together through a holy bath, where we breathe and speak and sing a holy word together, where we share a holy meal together with all of God’s crucified and risen people. From this place we, too, go forth, to bring the good news of a new life of justice and peace to the nations and the rulers and all of God’s people.

For it is not just Saul but all of us who hear the voice of Christ speaking to us and to all of creation in this Easter season:

“Arise.”

Amen.

sermon fragments for easter 3c

Acts 9:1-20
Revelation 5:11-14
John 21:1-19

Christ is Risen!

I love that we repeat those words throughout these seven Sundays of the Easter season. For seven Sundays, a week of weeks, we hear about the resurrection. And the more we hear about it, the more we see that while it begins at Christ’s empty tomb, resurrection cannot be contained there.

New life overflows, spilling out of the tomb and into the lives of the disciples, spilling out of their locked doors and into the most public of spaces, spilling out of their little fishing boats and into all of creation. In today’s gospel Simon Peter even dives into the sea, as if he is going to share new life with the fish and urchins and bull kelp… but I’m getting ahead of myself.

For what interests me as much as the water Peter dives into is its cousin, the air, that invisible gaseous mixture of oxygen and nitrogen and traces of argon and carbon dioxide and other rarer and obscurer molecules that we are usually oblivious to but that we spend our lives swimming in, walking through, falling through, sometimes flying through if we have the right equipment but always, always, always breathing in and out if we want to stay alive.

Our Scriptures reflect the centrality of our respiratory system. In the opening chapters of Genesis, the very first thing the Creator does after forming humanity from the land is to breathe into the new creature; only when it has breath does the creature become “a living being.”

Formation, breath, life: It is the same pattern used in our gospel text last Sunday, when Jesus re-forms his band of disciples with his own wounded hands, breathes the breath of the Holy Spirit into them, and sends his apostles out to proclaim the gospel of resurrection life to the principalities and powers.

There is a dark irony, then, in our reading from Acts this week. Last week, we found Peter and the apostles, breathing the breath of the Holy Spirit, standing before the high priest to proclaim the gospel of resurrection life. This week, we find the photographic negative of that story. Saul is “breathing threats and murder,” the breath of death, and he stands before the high priest to ask for search warrants with which he might stamp out the new life that is spreading throughout the land...

a song for acts 9:1-20

The Resurrection of the Body

A sermon for St John United Lutheran Church
on the Second Sunday of Easter, 2010

Acts 5:27-32
Revelation 1:4-8
John 20:19-31

O God of life, you reach out to us amid our fears with the wounded hands of your risen Son. By your Spirit’s breath revive our faith in your mercy, and strengthen us to be the body of your Son, Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.

+++

And I believe in the Holy Spirit
The holy catholic church
The communion of saints
The forgiveness of sins
The resurrection of the body
And the life everlasting.
Amen.

Last week Pastor Carol suggested that Easter might well mean more than just the resurrection of one man or even more than just life after death for individual souls. It’s fitting, then, that our Word for this week takes us even further into this theme of an Easter season with extraordinary ramifications far more far-reaching than they at first appear.

To see what they might look like, I invite you to imagine, for a moment, that you are with the disciples, “later that day,” when this story takes place.

They have locked the doors. They are terrified. And they have good reason to be – though the reason John gives is not quite it. I imagine the Roman secret police were just as if not more frightening than other Judeans. Roman foot soldiers, acting under orders, had executed Jesus just three days prior. The disciples’ grief was still fresh, no doubt – but their fear was fresh, too, and it seems the very real fear that one of them might be next was so pressing that it caused them to lock all the doors of the house.

Yet locking the doors could not keep the community safe. Fear crept inside, an insidious disease seeping under the doors and through the cracks in the floor. Once inside, fear bred into paralyses of panic, bruises of betrayal, and the dull numbness of despair.

They had given up everything for a new kind of life, a new way to live. But now the lynchpin upon which everything depended had snapped, had broken – like their leader, who was treated like a criminal and executed. They kept hoping for a miracle, but none came. So he died. He died, like so many others, as if there was nothing special about him. And now it was over.

What could they do but gather together and share their grief?

It was then that it happened.

He was suddenly there, among them.

Present.

And that is when several things happened, in rapid succession. If you forget what they are, you need only remember the creed, for the whole story is contained right there, in the third article. You can say it with me, if you know the words and feel so inclined.

And I believe in the Holy Spirit
The holy catholic church
The communion of saints
The forgiveness of sins
The resurrection of the body
And the life everlasting.

On the same day that his own life and mission triumphed over the grave Jesus went to perform the first miracle of his risen life: He went to resurrect the body. The body: the holy catholic church, the communion of saints that is his very body in the world. At that moment the body of Christ was as good as dead, disciples huddled inside a room whose deadbolt locks kept them so firmly inside, so firmly underground that their little locked room might as well have been a tomb. The body of Christ had given itself up for dead.

Enter the newly risen Jesus, through the locked doors. Like Yahweh breathing life into Adam with his own God-breath, Jesus breathes new life into this lifeless body of disciples with the Holy Spirit, the very breath of God, the very oxygen of the church. Jesus lives again, earth can breathe again – so pass the Word around before loaves abound!

And what Word to pass around? A word of peace, perhaps, a word of shalom – shalom, this word with which Jesus greets his beloved body of disciples. Peace to you, he says, shalom, three times, as if to be sure that we get it.

Then he does what the dumbfounded disciples needed him to do at that moment: He showed them what Peace to you, shalom meant, through his actions and through his words.

He showed them his wounds. And then he spoke to them about forgiveness.

Let me say that again: He showed them his wounds, wounds he still carried even in his risen life, visible wounds inflicted by Roman soldiers and less visible wounds inflicted by his closest friends. And then he spoke to them about forgiveness.

If you forgive anyone’s sins, they’re gone for good. But if you don’t forgive sins, what are you going to do with them?

For a people paralyzed by panic, for a people bruised by betrayal, for a people dull with despair, these are words that can spark hope, words that can begin healing, words that reveal the first steps of new life. Peace to you, shalom.

In this little Easter story we find Jesus resurrecting the body through the reconciliation of God’s peace, God reconciling the world to Godself. It begins in the body of Christ, as the disciples are reconciled to Jesus, and then reconciled to each other, and then reconciled to the one member of their group, Thomas, who was not with them the first time. One by one Jesus begins to find the lost sheep, all those whose panic paralyzes them, whose betrayal bruises them, whose despair leaves them numb and unable hear good news.

Jesus resurrects them by reviving their faith, our faith, and reconciling us all to the beloved community. He does this not just for our own sake but for the sake of the world outside our locked doors.

Just as the Father sent me, he says, I send you.

Jesus sends us, that we might go forth, out through our locked doors for mission, the mission of reconciliation in all the myriad forms it takes.

Those who are hungry being reconciled with those who are full through meals served and shared.

Those who are homeless being reconciled with those who are sheltered through shelter given on cold spring nights.

Those whose rights are stripped from them being reconciled with those whose rights are so far protected through advocacy and prayer.

A ravaged creation being reconciled with those created to be its caretakers through community gardens, environmental cleanup days, and policies that protect wild life in all its forms.

This is what the body of Christ has been resurrected for, after all, this sending out for mission in the world.

And this life of living out the mission of forgiveness, reconciliation, shalom for the whole world – this is the life everlasting.

And it is, finally, what we proclaim when we say that

We believe in the Holy Spirit
The holy catholic church
The communion of saints
The forgiveness of sins
The resurrection of the body
And the life everlasting.

Amen.