Readings for April 30, 2017 the Third Sunday of Easter

• Acts 2:14a, 36-41  
• Psalm 116:1-4, 12-19  
• 1 Peter 1:17-23  
• Luke 24:13-35

Rolled Over in his Grave, Pastor Kinsey
Jackie was a dear old lady – though, she had wild-eyed kind of laugh, which gave away the years of torment she endured at the hands of her husband, Floppy, as everyone called him.  She never gave up through the years of his drinking and abuse, mostly, I suppose, for the sake of the kids, but also because she had an indomitable hope and a steely strong faith, that things might get better.    
 
When we came to Iron County, and our 2-point parish, Jackie was just one of 41 home-bound members on the list Bill Kopinen had handed us.  Kim and I visited everyone every month, together, at first, but as we came to realize the scope of our work, we started splitting them up.  Jackie, became Kim’s visit, because she preferred a woman pastor, someone she felt more comfortable telling the intimate details of her life with Floppy, to.  Kim figures that in our 20 years of monthly communion visits to homebound members, she visited Jackie some 240 times, hearing some of her stories, almost that many times, too!  Kim kept Jackie’s counsel confidential.  All I knew was that Jackie was a survivor, she endured much, she protected her kids as much as she could, that they were dirt poor, and that, thank God for Jackie’s sake, Floppy finally kicked the bucket somewhere around year 5 that we were there.
 
And Jackie made it, almost to the end of our 20 years – she was our last pastoral act in the final week of our leaving, when she died and we had her funeral – and she was the last of the 41 people on that original list, that we buried. 
 
On one visit, when Kim went to see Jackie,  towards the end of those 20 years, she somehow forgot the bread and wine, and didn’t even remember she had forgot it until she had walked inside Jackie’s house.  So when it came time for communion, Jackie was able to find a dinner roll for bread, but told Pastor Kim that she didn’t keep wine, or booze of any kind in the house, even now that Floppy had passed on.  But, as soon as she said this, suddenly a wry smile grew on her face.  And Jackie said, hold on, this might take a minute, I’ll be right back.  And she made her way down the basement stairs, and when she returned, all out of breath, she put two bottles of wine down in front of Kim.  ‘The last of Floppy’s home-made choke-cherry wine,’ she said! 
 
As Kim wrestled the cork out of the dusty old bottle, she wasn’t sure what to expect.  Kim lifted the bread and the wine, recalled Jesus’ words of Institution, and they ate and drank in the name of the Lord, ingesting Christ’s body and blood.  And Jackie, Kim says, started to laugh, which turned into tears of great relief. ‘ I can’t help thinking,’ she said, ‘that Floppy must be rolling over in his grave, that we’ve taken his wine and used it for this holy occasion, used it for good, instead of for how he always used it for himself.  But I hope,’ she said, ‘that now he might actually be changed, wherever he is, he might be able to see what he did, and that what we have done with his choke-cherry wine, is a new and cleansing thing for all of us.’ 
 
When Kim was leaving, Jackie presented her with the remaining bottle of Floppy’s choke-cherry wine, saying she didn’t want it in her house any more, and that she’d feel better if we had it.    
 
Our gospel reading today concludes a pretty wild and unusual Passover week in Jerusalem.  And Jesus’ disciples were still not feeling any better on Sunday morning, the first day of the week, even after Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women had returned from the grave of Jesus with the news that the tomb was empty, and Jesus was alive!  The 12 disciples thought their story was an idle tale, and didn’t believe the women – at least at first. 
 
This is where our pericope begins – with Luke’s account of the Road to Emmaus.  Two previously unknown disciples – Cleopas is the only name we get – decide to walk away from Jerusalem, to see if they can clear their heads, get some perspective, perhaps visit a friend.  It was about seven miles away, a good little walk.  And as they began, a stranger came near and joined them.  It was Jesus, but their eyes were kept from recognizing him, says Luke. 
 
What did, the resurrected-Jesus look like?  In John’s gospel, in the upper room where the disciples were hiding, they recognize Jesus right away, even though he somehow materialized through locked doors!  To Cleopas and his companion, though, Jesus appeared as any Palestinian guy they might encounter on the road. 
 
So, when he joins them, Jesus asks them what they were talking about – which makes them sad, and then, a little indignant.  Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who doesn’t know the things that have taken place in these days?  But Jesus doesn’t let on, doesn’t react, just asks them to explain – what things?  To which they are happy to oblige, and recall once more everything they know about Jesus of Nazareth, his death and resurrection, and the high hopes they had, how they had hoped he might be their redeemer, and liberate them.  We had hoped he would.  But even though they went to the tomb and saw it empty, like the women told them, they didn’t see the angel who announced his rising. 
 
We had hoped…  What a simple, but human phrase.  How often have we hoped, for that which we were later disappointed in?  We had hoped our child would have survived; we had hoped our company didn’t have to lay off so many workers; we had hoped our insurance would have covered our medications; we had hoped our elected leaders would have had our best interests in mind instead of fighting amongst themselves again! 
 
When Jesus finally takes a turn in the conversation on the road to Emmaus, he says, “Oh, how foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared!”  And Jesus interpreted to them all the things about himself in the scriptures, beginning with Moses and all the prophets, to help them understand. 
 
Actually, he was the only stranger in Jerusalem who completely understood what things had happened and what they meant!  Indeed, he was alive, as the women had testified, and was the promised hope of their redemption! 
 
But there is one more scene, which is the most revealing of all.  Just as Jesus was walking on ahead past the turn off to Emmaus, the two disciples have the strong desire to share hospitality with this stranger, and invite him in:  “stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over.”  And there, while they sat at table together, Jesus lifts the loaf of bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them – and suddenly their eyes were now opened to recognize him.  How many times had Jesus done that with them before, from Passover meals, to the feeding of the 5,000, to meals with tax collectors, and with peasants in every village they visited in Galilee and Judea. 
 
When they recognized him in the communion meal, Jesus’ work was accomplished, and he vanished from their sight, says Luke. 
 
How long is the road we must travel, to see Jesus?  How many trials and tribulations must we endure?  How many conversations must we have? How many people must we invite in? How many children must we protect? How many women must be disbelieved? How many men must in their foolishness be blinded by their privilege or roll over in their graves? How many strangers will be kept out… how many, before our eyes are opened? 
 
Jesus walks with us, whether we recognize it or not.  Jesus comes near, in our times of need, just as his kingdom and realm have come near to the world.  Even, and especially, in the shared dusty bottles of our choke-cherry wine, pulled out from the cellar, the long lost forgotten pains of our lives – even they can be redeemed and made whole again, in the resurrection and power of Jesus’ new life poured out for us. 
 
Jesus, Rolled over in his grave, and walked out ahead of us, so we could join him, and in coming near, find hope for every trial and tribulation we face.  Let us rise, and walk with him.  

Readings for Resurrection of Our Lord, Easter 1A

• Acts 10:34-43 
• Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24  
• Colossians 3:1-4 
• Matthew 28:1-10

"Lightning Bolt," Pastor Kinsey
One thing I’ve appreciated, moving back to the city from small town Michigan, is the uninterrupted flow of electricity.  We used to have power outages regularly in Iron County.  Sometimes all it took was one sacrificial squirrel, to short out a local transformer – or at least that’s what the electric company reported!  But it was the feared thunder bolt of lightning, that could take down a much larger section of the grid, when it struck out of nowhere.
 
That’s exactly what happened the evening our little church on the hill in Stambaugh, MI was celebrating its 90th Anniversary.  The church was packed with current and former members, on a sweltering August day.  People wiped their brows as they hurried up from dropping off their potluck dishes downstairs, in preparation for the dinner following the service.  Harvey Gustafson, a former pastor and noted organist, was beginning his prelude on the new digital Juhannus organ.  And the standing room only congregation fanned itself, and smiled nervously, as they watched the extremely dark clouds gathering through the windows, opened wide to let the breeze blow in. 
 
When the clouds finally let loose the big heavy drops which the humid air could no longer hold, suddenly there was a flash of lightening, and simultaneously, the crack of thunder, and Harvey’s Buxtehude in B flat major was silenced!  There was an audible gasp.  The congregation now sat in darkness.  The fans fluttered to a halt, even as people rushed to close the windows to the rain, trapping the oppressive heat inside.  Kim and I began lighting candles around the sanctuary to reassure people – ‘don’t worry, this is the way the church was lit 90 years ago,’ we said.  While Gary Lopez, our member who worked for the electric company, organized his friends to rig up Art Hendrickson’s RV generator to the organ, so Harvey could finish his prelude!  Everything had changed in an instant, in the flash of a light from the sky – and turned our best laid plans upside-down.  And no one from the little Stambaugh church on the hill, would ever forget the candle-lit 90th anniversary celebration. 
 
And arguably, nothing has shaken the world, as much as that very first Easter morn, when two women went to the tomb of Jesus, curious, and courageous, and certainly not expecting what was about to unfold – history that is still commemorated today. 
 
For at the grave site, a confrontation of heaven and earth was about to take place, when early on Sunday morning, as the day was “dawning,” says Matthew, out of nowhere, like a bolt out of the sky, a messenger descends to earth, looking a lot like Jesus did at his Transfiguration on the mountaintop to Peter and James and John.  His clothing was as white as snow – a blinding mirage, as the eastern sun reflected off him! 
 
This fissure of heaven and earth, rumbles and quakes the ground under their feet, as the large round stone sealing the tomb, rolled away, causing the Roman soldiers on the night shift to quake with fear, and they fell unconscious. 
 
While the angel calmly sits atop the large stone – like it’s the most natural thing in the world – illuminating some serious candle-power now, from center stage. 
 
Mary Magdalene and the other Mary – who was perhaps Jesus’ mother, but not identified here by her blood relationship, to emphasize the shift to her status as a follower and disciple, now – somehow remain conscious, through their shock. 
 
Do not be afraid, the Messenger says to them, as if that’s going to be possible!  But, there is good news to announce, coming out of this earth quaking spectacle.  Angels, are God’s messengers, and the morning news from this particular one, is that the tomb is empty – Jesus has left the premises!  ‘That’s why I’ve rolled back the stone,’ says the angel, so you can see!  Take a look if you like.  ‘Just as Jesus told you,’ he has been raised, and has gone ahead of you to Galilee, there you will see him.  Remember, at the Last Supper, when you took the Cup and he commanded, ‘drink of it all of you’, how you sang a hymn, and Jesus predicts that all the disciples would desert him – that’s when he said, ‘But after I am raised up, I will go ahead of you to Galilee.’ 
 
‘So go quickly now,’ said the angel, ‘and tell the 11 disciples.’ 
 
Where are those other disciples?  Why are they not with Mary Magdalene and Mary, who went to the tomb to confront the Roman guard?  Why do the two Mary’s seem the most engaged of all of them, in where the Passion story goes next?  The 11 disciples, and other followers, are holed up in the Upper Room, presumably?  Where is their faith?  There courage?  They were at the Last Supper and heard Jesus say for the umpteenth time that he would be raised and go ahead of them to Galilee.  What are they afraid of?
 
What do we do, when we are fearful? 
 
Wouldn’t it be great if there was no corruption, no sin, no death?  Wouldn’t it be great if, resurrection, didn’t have to mean, there was first, a crucifixion?  Wouldn’t it be great if we could live without fear, and bullying, and hate?  Wouldn’t it be great if our society progressed on a nice straight upwards curve instead of having to re-fight racism, and militarism, and consumerism?  Wouldn’t it be great if life was all Easter eggs and Cinnamon rolls, and there was no hunger and famine? 
 
Mary Magdalene and mother Mary – now follower – don’t take anything for granted.  They’re organized, but realistic about what they’re up against, and together gather their courage, supporting each other, not giving up on Jesus’ mission. 
 
Where do we find our faith, and our courage?  Are we tempted to sit in our rooms?  Maybe watch the 5:00 News, gasp at the latest reported lightning-bolt-Tweet, before switching to Dancing with the Stars, or the Walking Dead? 
 
Where is Jesus calling you today?  To your kids school?  Your neighborhood block club or town hall meeting?  The local drama production?
 
It took some pretty mighty organization, and no small measure of support to pull it off, but the Women’s March on Washington in January, which spread to every major city, and many countries abroad, shook the very ground of our country and world!  All those pink hats alone, were an amazing feat of planning!  The first full day in office for the new President, was protested by millions of women who had the courage not to sit at home, but to stand up to the ‘isms’ that threatened their lives, the lives of their families, and all of us. 
 
Faith, as Paul Tillich said, is ‘the courage to be.’  And the resurrection of Jesus on Easter morn, is God’s lightning bolt, striking at the heart of our world, turning the oppressive structures upside down.  On the first Easter morn, God empowers women – who at the time of Jesus, were not even allowed to testify in court, and were stigmatized as unreliable.  Of all the followers of Jesus, the two Mary’s have the leading roles in witnessing to Christ’s rising!  The might of earthly empire, from Governor on down to its soldiers, is silenced!  Not killed, but rendered harmless.  And the history of God acting in our world is now told from a new perspective, that of the underdog, the poor, the blind, the repentant, and women. 
 
The last enemy death, is overcome first, provisionally in God’s chosen One, but promised to all God’s creation – the realm of God has broken into our world, has come down to earth, and is starting to bloom. 
 
What are you afraid of?  Jesus is risen and has gone ahead of us to Galilee.  Whose story will we believe?  How will we invest our, ‘courage to be?’  How many lightning bolts will strike us, before we clear our eyes to see! 
 
‘Do not be afraid’ – for Christ is risen!  Christ is risen indeed, Alleluia! 

Readings for April 2, 2017, Fifth Sunday in Lent

• Ezekiel 37:1-14  
• Psalm 130  
• Romans 8:6-11  
• John 11:1-45

Do You Believe This, Pastor Kinsey
You can tell that the power and wonder of the Passion stories is nearly upon us, already, in the stories of the raising of Lazarus, and also in the dry bones from Ezekiel.  The Passion story will carry us through Holy Week, which begins next Sunday, and the liturgies require less preaching then, because, when we have the central gospel message staring us in the face, and tugging at our heart-strings, it’s best to let it just speak for itself.  
 
But, I do want to say a word about the centrality and importance of what faith is for us, which is in all three or our readings today – not to mention, central to our Lutheran Confessions, as we celebrate the 500th anniversary of the Reformation this year. 
 
Last week we reflected on the healing of the man born blind, the beggar who confessed his belief in Jesus, as the Son of Man, who then worshipped him.  Belief, in John’s gospel, is a faith that believes in the power of God to break through our world of sorrow and death, and brings new life, and new sight.
 
I remember now, some years ago, when Kim and I were driving her mom, Tedi, to her last chemo treatment.  It was early spring in the UP of MI.  And as we gazed out the car windows at the wilderness, it was hard to believe summer could come.  The roads were gritty with salt and gravel, now that the snows had melted.  The fields looked beaten down, matted with lifeless bleached straw.  “You wonder, how this world will come back to life,” Tedi said aloud.  “How is it, that all this will disappear, that the green will be able to push up and take over, that in a couple of months everything will be renewed and all this ugliness will have just vanished?  Where does it go?”  
 
And after a long pause, “It may be hard to believe,” she said, “but I also know from experience that as impossible as it seems, the power of life will win, and come summer, everything will look different.”  And Tedi had a simple enough explanation for how this happens.  “God,” she said.  “God’s power of life.”
 
Tedi’s cancer was far advanced by then, and she didn’t live to see summer that year.  But she lived in God’s power to raise her, in the confidence that there’s new life ahead in the power of the living God.  And summer did come.
 
In John’s gospel-telling, of the raising of Lazarus, it cannot be overlooked how central this story is.  First of all, this 11th chapter is the exact middle, of John’s 21 chapters, and it’s the last of Jesus’ 7 signs, revealing his Messianic nature.  But raising Lazarus, will also seal his fate.  Immediately afterward, the elites of the Sanhedrin’s city Council, get together, to plot how to get rid of him. 
 
Which makes Jesus’ decision all the more audacious, when you think about it, that he purposely waits some two days to go to his best friend’s home in Bethany, after getting word from the sisters, Mary and Martha, that their brother Lazarus was ill.  Although it’s not clear what Jesus’ intention is – it’s just as likely that he’s hesitant to go because he’s basically under death threat in Jerusalem – having just escaped stoning in the previous chapter.  
 
But Jesus tells us that he’s holding off, so that “the Son of God may be glorified,” though the disciples don’t seem to understand what that might mean.  After two days, Jesus tells them it’s time: “Lazarus is dead.  For your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe.” 
 
But when they arrive they find that “Lazarus has already been in the tomb four days!”  Had Jesus miscalculated?  The mood in Bethany is full of sorrow.  The professional mourners were wailing, and clearly Martha and Mary were disappointed.  Though, not without hope.  Martha ran out to meet Jesus, while Mary stayed inside.  “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died,” Martha cried.  “But even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask.”  Jesus tried to console her with the future promise of resurrection, to no avail.  Then Jesus proclaims: “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.  Do you believe this?”  Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world.” 
 
Then Martha fetches her sister Mary, and she falls at Jesus’ feet weeping, with all the townspeople behind her, wailing, and Mary pleads with Jesus in the same refrain of her sister: If you had been here, my brother would not have died.  The sisters have great faith.  But isn’t too late?  As the tension mounts for Jesus to say or do something, he asks where Lazarus is, and they take him to the tomb.  Some of the townspeople are mumbling that he should have come earlier, or that maybe he didn’t really care that much – if he healed the blind man, why not come sooner to help Lazarus, his friend?! 
 
When our lives feel like a wilderness, like a dried up desert, hopeless, and afraid that death is around the next corner – there is no greater text that this one – except, maybe Ezekiel, and the vision of the valley of dry bones, the metaphor for the once mighty people of Israel, whose Temple was destroyed and who were then exiled to Babylon and left for dead – a pile of bones! But Ezekiel says that they will rattle back to life, it will be awesome, because the LORD will breathe the breath of the holy spirit into them!  They felt like dry bones, left for dead.  A people without a home for 2 generations.  But this promise of the Spirit reviving them, would sustain them, and give them hope of returning to Jerusalem. 
 
The fact is, none of us is going to make it out of here alive – dust to dust!  But some of us live lives, even now, of courageous resistance.  We battle cancers, and we speak of hope.  We fight for relationships, staving off fears that love is “clean cut off.”  We resist the debilitation of aging and strive for independence.  We do our best at work, even when there are rumors of layoffs and buyouts. We continue to send out resumes and find ways to retool when it comes. We pray for loved ones away at war, and at home resist the decay, of neighborhoods, public funding, and the social contract.
 
“Son of Man, can these bones live?  O Lord GOD, you know!”  We, who are exiles and pilgrims here on earth, gather Sabbath after Sabbath, and draw strength from the power of this vision, of God’s possible. 
 
So, Mary and Martha confront Jesus in our paradox of faith today. They’ve sounded the alarm to call Jesus to their home, watched their brother Lazarus go downhill day by day, and finally, buried him.  Where are you Jesus?  So when he finally shows up, it’s hard to know what Mary and Martha think is still possible! 
 
They see Jesus’ love for Lazarus. They say they KNOW Jesus is the resurrection and the life.  ‘Yes, Lord, I believe,’ they say.  Yet they warn Jesus away from the tomb.  “He’s too far gone!  There is a stench!”   
 
But Jesus marches right up to it.  Jesus takes the battering ram to the stone, sealing the tomb.  Jesus calls, and the dead man hears his name, and Lazarus comes out!  He stumbles, squinting into the light of the spring sun, that has warmed and revived the lily’s and palm trees.
 
Jesus asks us: Did I not tell you that if you believed you would see the glory of God? The word glory means “weight” in Hebrew. 
 
Jesus says to Martha, and to us, “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, ...  Do you believe this?”  But, I have to say, the word believe fails to capture what Jesus is asking; for the Greek word, pisteuo is never just a cognitive matter – a matter of the mind, only.  Pisteuo asks for our trust and courage, to live for that in which we believe?  Do you rest your faith in Jesus’ power of resurrection life?  Do you live toward this?  Live in God’s power to raise up, and that summer will come?
 
In the past 500 years of Lutheranism, we have not always understood faith so clearly.  But there are no excuses.  Today is a new day!  Can these bones live?  Yes!  Every day we struggle to rattle our old bones together one more time, to offer our lives for Christ.  To say, yes Lord, I believe, and to live into it with courage!  O LORD, make your light, and your life, shine in and through me!