Nov 15, 2020
A Convicting Parable
By: Karen Scherer
Series: (All)
November 15, 2020. Guest Pastor Karen Scherer preaches on the Parable of the Talents from Matthew 25.
 
Readings: 1 Thessalonians 5:1-11, Matthew 25:14-30
 
*** Transcript ***
 
Okay, would you all please pray with me? Holy and loving God, we pray open our hearts and our minds this day to receive your word and free us. In your holy name we pray. Amen.
 
Well I've got the sunlight coming in on me now. I was thinking it was going to be overcast, but I'm going to be sort of like Moses. I'm going to shine so much you may not be able to see me. But I hope that you will hear my word today, the word that I have gleaned from our lesson today.
 
I'm going to go back today to the beginning. In the beginning, God's ruah, God's spirit, God's creating breath, hovered over the waters of chaos. And God spoke creation and order. Heavenly bodies above, and stars and suns and moons and planets and bodies of earth and water below, were formed and separated. And God said, "It's good." And then God spoke, and systems of life and creatures flowed from the earth. Things that fly and walk and slither and crawl, things that grow and sustain the earth. And God said, "It is good." Then God created human beings out of the earth. In God's image God created them, with the same spirit of God, the ability to imagine and create and love. And God gave them responsibility to look after and care for the earth and its systems. And God even gave them instructions. And God laughed with delight and said, "They are good."
 
What a mess we have made, of ourselves and of God's good creation. Such a mess. But God chose — rather than to wipe us out and just start over — God chose to come among us, Emmanuel, to be with us, to save us and recreate us in God's image, again. And God has chosen to do that, we know, through Jesus, God's son, Emmanuel. This I believe.
 
And I believe that this parable God speaks to us today through Jesus, through Matthew, is about just that: about how far we have fallen, how far we have twisted our purpose for being, how far we are from the human beings God created us to be, and the consequences of that. You know, for 50 years I was taught that this parable — of the talents as we call it — was about using our talents and money in service to our master, which was always defined as God or Jesus or the church. And that it was about being good stewards, much as Jesse related to us today.
 
But I always felt quite uncomfortable with the twist at the end, of the master being as harsh and greedy and cruel as the fearful third slave said he was. Because truly it turns out he is just that. When he takes away what the man had saved, and now returns to him and then gives it to the one manager who really doesn't need it. And the master calls the third slave wicked and lazy and worthless, and commands he be thrown into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.
 
Did that not make you a little uncomfortable? A little uncomfortable, as you heard this parable read today? And the use of the language of "master" and "slave" — and I know that that was pretty normal in Jesus' day, but has a very different ring to us today — but the use of that language just adds deeply to my conclusion, of rejection of this parable as one about the traditional form of stewardship interpretation. I believe that this parable is not really about stewardship in the traditional way of thinking, but that it is about how thoroughly messed up we have become in this world of haves and have-nots, and about how badly we have betrayed the goodness of who we were created to be.
 
So let me try to explain, try to unpack this for you if I can, give you a little bit of background. I'm sure that you've heard that talents were not coins like pennies and quarters and half dollars. But talents were hefty, precious metals like gold and silver, that weighed 80 to 100 pounds, and that a single talent was worth approximately 20 years of an ordinary laborer's wage — a staggering amount of money to Jesus' peasant audience. How did the elite of that time amass that kind of wealth? They lent money to the farming poor at exorbitant interest — which by the way was against Jewish laws on usery. And they systematically stripped those debtors of their land, and they did it this way: often the people who took such loans, at rates between 60% to 200% sometimes, did so out of desperation — the people who took out these loans — putting their fields up as collateral and in last-ditch efforts to save their livelihoods. Inevitably their efforts would fail. Drought, illness, too little crop yield, and then foreclosure was not far behind. The poor man would have no choice but to surrender his ancestral land, and watch as the wealthy elites repurposed his field for profit. And then the poor man joined the multitudes of landless day laborers, who couldn't know from day to day where their bread would come from.
 
This is the situation Jesus describes in the parable of the talents, I believe. The three slaves in the story are the wealthy masters, retainers, or household bureaucrats — essentially the middlemen who oversee the land and the workers, collect the debts, and keep the profits coming while the master travels away on business or goes to rest at his seaside home in maybe Caesarea. And it is understood by everyone involved that the slaves are free to make a little interest on the side, these middlemen, by charging the farmers additional fees or interest. They can do this as long as they keep the money flowing for their master. So, of course the name of the game is exploitation, and no questions asked. And the only rule is a turn of profit. Turn as huge a profit as possible.
 
And two of the slaves do exactly that. They do as they're told: they take their talents out into the world and double them on the backs of the poor. When the master returns and sees what they've accomplished on his behalf, he's thrilled. He invites the two enterprising slaves to enter into his joy — the joy of further wealth, further profit, further exploitation. But the third slave? The third slave in this story carries out the Jewish law. He buries the heavy talent in the earth. He hides it, literally taking it out of circulation, putting it where it will do no further harm to the poor. He was being faithful to the law, to the instructions if you will, that God had given God's people. And he did this knowing full well what it will cost him. The slave, afraid yet faithful, speaks truth to the master, speaks truth to power. "I knew that you were a hard man, reaping where you did not sow and gathering where you did not scatter seed." In Greek, the phrase "a hard man" means one whose eyes and heart, mouth and ears and hands and feet, are rigid, non-functioning, and arrogantly inhumane. "I knew that you were a hard man."
 
By acting and speaking the truth, this third slave refuses to participate in a messed-up system that goes against God's will for human beings. And for doing so he is deeply shamed by the master and the others, and is fired, thrown out. And without a job, without land, he's as good as dead, thrown into the darkness where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth. I sort of wondered, could this anticipate in fact what will happen to Jesus? Because this comes just before his suffering, his arrest, his crucifixion.
 
I believe this is a convicting parable about how far we have fallen, how far we have twisted our purpose for being, how far we are from the human beings God created us to be. Yet there is an urgency of hope embedded in the placement and the timing of this parable. For you see, I believe it is an antithesis to the parable that Jesus tells that follows, that you will encounter next week on Christ the King Sunday, the parable of when the Son of Man comes. And it is, yes, a parable of judgment — but a parable of mercy as well. We often hear it called sheep and goats, the parable of the sheep and goats. This parable leads into that parable. This is how messed up we are. "But when the Son of Man comes." Pay attention to these parables. Pay attention to what Pastor Meagan will tell you next week.
 
This was a time of urgency for Jesus. As he faced his arrest and coming crucifixion, he speaks truth to power, the power that we have that has messed up things. This is a time of urgency for Jesus. It is a time of urgency for us as well to hear this word. But I say to you friends, know this: Jesus Christ — Son of God, Son of Man, Emmanuel — is God with us. Is with you. For he entered into our messiness, spoke truth to our twisted power, interrupted business as usual for the sake of justice and mercy, suffered rejection, impoverishment, loneliness, and crucifixion, to bring us back to God and to begin God's new creation.
 
It is through baptism into his life, death, and resurrection that we are being created in God's image again. And it is through the lens of the Son that God sees our goodness still. Through God's living word the Spirit is working, you see, to soften our hard hearts. The Spirit is working to open our blind eyes and see what we have become, and what we are to be. The Spirit is working to open our deaf ears to hear God's word, and to open our clenched fists so that we might be open to neighbor, to our siblings, that we might care for one another and be knit together as one humanity. And that we might care for the earth again as we are meant to do, as we are meant to be for the earth: its caretakers.
 
So friends in Christ, hear the words of Paul, put on the breastplate of faith and love — and for a helmet, the hope of salvation that God is healing this world, has healed it through Christ Jesus. For God has destined us, Paul writes, not for wrath, but for obtaining salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ, who died for us, so that whether we are awake or asleep we may live with him. Therefore encourage one another and build up each other, as indeed you are doing.
 
And may the peace of Christ, which passes all understanding, keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus our Lord. Amen.
 
*** Keywords ***
 
2020, Christ Lutheran Church, Webster Groves, sermon, podcast, transcript, YouTube, video, Pastor Karen Scherer, 1 Thessalonians 5:1-11,  Matthew 25:14-30
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  • Nov 15, 2020A Convicting Parable
    Nov 15, 2020
    A Convicting Parable
    By: Karen Scherer
    Series: (All)
    November 15, 2020. Guest Pastor Karen Scherer preaches on the Parable of the Talents from Matthew 25.
     
    Readings: 1 Thessalonians 5:1-11, Matthew 25:14-30
     
    *** Transcript ***
     
    Okay, would you all please pray with me? Holy and loving God, we pray open our hearts and our minds this day to receive your word and free us. In your holy name we pray. Amen.
     
    Well I've got the sunlight coming in on me now. I was thinking it was going to be overcast, but I'm going to be sort of like Moses. I'm going to shine so much you may not be able to see me. But I hope that you will hear my word today, the word that I have gleaned from our lesson today.
     
    I'm going to go back today to the beginning. In the beginning, God's ruah, God's spirit, God's creating breath, hovered over the waters of chaos. And God spoke creation and order. Heavenly bodies above, and stars and suns and moons and planets and bodies of earth and water below, were formed and separated. And God said, "It's good." And then God spoke, and systems of life and creatures flowed from the earth. Things that fly and walk and slither and crawl, things that grow and sustain the earth. And God said, "It is good." Then God created human beings out of the earth. In God's image God created them, with the same spirit of God, the ability to imagine and create and love. And God gave them responsibility to look after and care for the earth and its systems. And God even gave them instructions. And God laughed with delight and said, "They are good."
     
    What a mess we have made, of ourselves and of God's good creation. Such a mess. But God chose — rather than to wipe us out and just start over — God chose to come among us, Emmanuel, to be with us, to save us and recreate us in God's image, again. And God has chosen to do that, we know, through Jesus, God's son, Emmanuel. This I believe.
     
    And I believe that this parable God speaks to us today through Jesus, through Matthew, is about just that: about how far we have fallen, how far we have twisted our purpose for being, how far we are from the human beings God created us to be, and the consequences of that. You know, for 50 years I was taught that this parable — of the talents as we call it — was about using our talents and money in service to our master, which was always defined as God or Jesus or the church. And that it was about being good stewards, much as Jesse related to us today.
     
    But I always felt quite uncomfortable with the twist at the end, of the master being as harsh and greedy and cruel as the fearful third slave said he was. Because truly it turns out he is just that. When he takes away what the man had saved, and now returns to him and then gives it to the one manager who really doesn't need it. And the master calls the third slave wicked and lazy and worthless, and commands he be thrown into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.
     
    Did that not make you a little uncomfortable? A little uncomfortable, as you heard this parable read today? And the use of the language of "master" and "slave" — and I know that that was pretty normal in Jesus' day, but has a very different ring to us today — but the use of that language just adds deeply to my conclusion, of rejection of this parable as one about the traditional form of stewardship interpretation. I believe that this parable is not really about stewardship in the traditional way of thinking, but that it is about how thoroughly messed up we have become in this world of haves and have-nots, and about how badly we have betrayed the goodness of who we were created to be.
     
    So let me try to explain, try to unpack this for you if I can, give you a little bit of background. I'm sure that you've heard that talents were not coins like pennies and quarters and half dollars. But talents were hefty, precious metals like gold and silver, that weighed 80 to 100 pounds, and that a single talent was worth approximately 20 years of an ordinary laborer's wage — a staggering amount of money to Jesus' peasant audience. How did the elite of that time amass that kind of wealth? They lent money to the farming poor at exorbitant interest — which by the way was against Jewish laws on usery. And they systematically stripped those debtors of their land, and they did it this way: often the people who took such loans, at rates between 60% to 200% sometimes, did so out of desperation — the people who took out these loans — putting their fields up as collateral and in last-ditch efforts to save their livelihoods. Inevitably their efforts would fail. Drought, illness, too little crop yield, and then foreclosure was not far behind. The poor man would have no choice but to surrender his ancestral land, and watch as the wealthy elites repurposed his field for profit. And then the poor man joined the multitudes of landless day laborers, who couldn't know from day to day where their bread would come from.
     
    This is the situation Jesus describes in the parable of the talents, I believe. The three slaves in the story are the wealthy masters, retainers, or household bureaucrats — essentially the middlemen who oversee the land and the workers, collect the debts, and keep the profits coming while the master travels away on business or goes to rest at his seaside home in maybe Caesarea. And it is understood by everyone involved that the slaves are free to make a little interest on the side, these middlemen, by charging the farmers additional fees or interest. They can do this as long as they keep the money flowing for their master. So, of course the name of the game is exploitation, and no questions asked. And the only rule is a turn of profit. Turn as huge a profit as possible.
     
    And two of the slaves do exactly that. They do as they're told: they take their talents out into the world and double them on the backs of the poor. When the master returns and sees what they've accomplished on his behalf, he's thrilled. He invites the two enterprising slaves to enter into his joy — the joy of further wealth, further profit, further exploitation. But the third slave? The third slave in this story carries out the Jewish law. He buries the heavy talent in the earth. He hides it, literally taking it out of circulation, putting it where it will do no further harm to the poor. He was being faithful to the law, to the instructions if you will, that God had given God's people. And he did this knowing full well what it will cost him. The slave, afraid yet faithful, speaks truth to the master, speaks truth to power. "I knew that you were a hard man, reaping where you did not sow and gathering where you did not scatter seed." In Greek, the phrase "a hard man" means one whose eyes and heart, mouth and ears and hands and feet, are rigid, non-functioning, and arrogantly inhumane. "I knew that you were a hard man."
     
    By acting and speaking the truth, this third slave refuses to participate in a messed-up system that goes against God's will for human beings. And for doing so he is deeply shamed by the master and the others, and is fired, thrown out. And without a job, without land, he's as good as dead, thrown into the darkness where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth. I sort of wondered, could this anticipate in fact what will happen to Jesus? Because this comes just before his suffering, his arrest, his crucifixion.
     
    I believe this is a convicting parable about how far we have fallen, how far we have twisted our purpose for being, how far we are from the human beings God created us to be. Yet there is an urgency of hope embedded in the placement and the timing of this parable. For you see, I believe it is an antithesis to the parable that Jesus tells that follows, that you will encounter next week on Christ the King Sunday, the parable of when the Son of Man comes. And it is, yes, a parable of judgment — but a parable of mercy as well. We often hear it called sheep and goats, the parable of the sheep and goats. This parable leads into that parable. This is how messed up we are. "But when the Son of Man comes." Pay attention to these parables. Pay attention to what Pastor Meagan will tell you next week.
     
    This was a time of urgency for Jesus. As he faced his arrest and coming crucifixion, he speaks truth to power, the power that we have that has messed up things. This is a time of urgency for Jesus. It is a time of urgency for us as well to hear this word. But I say to you friends, know this: Jesus Christ — Son of God, Son of Man, Emmanuel — is God with us. Is with you. For he entered into our messiness, spoke truth to our twisted power, interrupted business as usual for the sake of justice and mercy, suffered rejection, impoverishment, loneliness, and crucifixion, to bring us back to God and to begin God's new creation.
     
    It is through baptism into his life, death, and resurrection that we are being created in God's image again. And it is through the lens of the Son that God sees our goodness still. Through God's living word the Spirit is working, you see, to soften our hard hearts. The Spirit is working to open our blind eyes and see what we have become, and what we are to be. The Spirit is working to open our deaf ears to hear God's word, and to open our clenched fists so that we might be open to neighbor, to our siblings, that we might care for one another and be knit together as one humanity. And that we might care for the earth again as we are meant to do, as we are meant to be for the earth: its caretakers.
     
    So friends in Christ, hear the words of Paul, put on the breastplate of faith and love — and for a helmet, the hope of salvation that God is healing this world, has healed it through Christ Jesus. For God has destined us, Paul writes, not for wrath, but for obtaining salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ, who died for us, so that whether we are awake or asleep we may live with him. Therefore encourage one another and build up each other, as indeed you are doing.
     
    And may the peace of Christ, which passes all understanding, keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus our Lord. Amen.
     
    *** Keywords ***
     
    2020, Christ Lutheran Church, Webster Groves, sermon, podcast, transcript, YouTube, video, Pastor Karen Scherer, 1 Thessalonians 5:1-11,  Matthew 25:14-30
  • Aug 2, 2020More Than Enough, From Next to Nothing
    Aug 2, 2020
    More Than Enough, From Next to Nothing
    By: Karen Scherer
    Series: (All)
    August 2, 2020. Guest pastor Karen Scherer preaches today on the story of Jesus feeding the five thousand. Even though they had next to nothing, the crowd all ate and were filled, because Jesus can turn "next to nothing" into more than enough.
     
    Reading: Matthew 14:13-21
     
    *** Transcript ***
     
    "Now when Jesus heard this, he withdrew from there in a boat to a deserted place by himself." We can only imagine Jesus' grief and his mourning over the news of John the Baptist's murder at the hands of Herodias and her daughter. John, who was his cousin. John, who had baptized him in the Jordan. John, who had proclaimed repentance and the coming of the kingdom of Heaven, whose proclamation Jesus had picked up when John was arrested. And if John's death wasn't enough, this difficult news was piled on top of the hurt that he must have felt at having been rejected in his own hometown of Nazareth, just before hearing of John's terrible death. So Jesus withdrew to actually a wilderness place — an isolated place — to be alone, to grieve, to mourn, to pray. And when the crowds heard it, they followed him on foot from the towns. They too must have just heard the news regarding John. And just as Jesus, their sojourn may have been an act of grief, or bewilderment, or something else desperate enough for them to end up in a wilderness place with no food, on that hillside far away.
     
    We too may know of such feelings of grief and bewilderment. We are at a particular turmoil in our country. Black lives are clamoring for justice, and white lives are just beginning to understand. Asylum seekers, even children, are being imprisoned, detained. Unknown or unmarked federal law enforcement personnel are snatching citizens from the streets and driving them off in unmarked vans. The backdrop of this turmoil is a pandemic that has caused fear, closed businesses, created massive job losses, and tempts us to make mask wearing a political statement. The world seems to be in chaos. We may not recognize where we are anymore, but I'll tell you it's some kind of wilderness.
     
    When Jesus went ashore he saw a great crowd, and he had compassion for them and cured the sick. Jesus sees them and he sees us. He not only sees those who are sick and infirm. He sees in the crowd their dispirited, heartbroken pain. Herod's act of killing John was just the final straw for some of these folks. Roman occupation, oppression, corruption. Too big to overthrow, too cruel to endure. "What is left?" they must have been thinking. Jesus' reaction to seeing them is a physical one, one that the English word "compassion" does not do justice to. He was gut-wrenched when he saw the crowd. And so he goes to them, and he goes among them. And he begins healing them, raising their spirits, healing their broken hearts, curing their infirmities.
     
    D. Mark Davis has a great blog spot called Left Behind and Loving It. And he writes this: "A revolutionary leader, like a zealot, could have used this moment to rally troops. Five thousand men, plus women and children, in one place — angry or bewildered or dispirited over the death of John the Baptizer — would make a great start to an army that could have stormed Herod's palace. Instead it becomes a feeding story, a healing story."
     
    Well truth be told, in these current times I find myself much of the time feeling much more like a zealot than a disciple. I find myself feeling angry and sad and anxious. And if you're like me, after many gut-wrenching hours swiping through our social media feeds, we have not seen much cause for hope. Divisions increase. Memes plant seeds of irrational bias. And resigned, depressed, left without hope or otherwise spiritually impoverished, many wonder what hope do we have. In our secular society, where do we look for deliverance? We look to our government, our courts, our church's leadership. But no person or institution can be granted universal moral authority. All such authorities in fact have been systematically eliminated. We disagree on what is fact and what is truth today. So we find ourselves just wanting it to all go away.
     
    When it was evening, the disciples came to Jesus and said, "This is a deserted place and the hour is now late. Send the crowds away so that they may go into the villages and buy food for themselves." The disciples just want to send them away. And I suspect that they too just wanted to hunker down with Jesus. And besides, there was nothing they had to give them. Jesus said to them, "They need not go away. The location of abundance is here — in here, in the heart — not elsewhere. They need not go away. You give them something to eat." And they replied, "We have nothing here but five loaves and two fish." Ah, the response of scarcity. We just have a couple of fish sandwiches. What are we going to do with fish sandwiches? And he said to them, "Bring them here. Bring them to me." And then he ordered the crowds to sit down on the grass ("ordered" meaning more invitation). "I've got something. I've got a plan. I've got something to give you." And taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven, blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them to the disciples. And the disciples gave them to the crowds, and all ate and were filled. And they took up what was left out of the broken pieces: twelve baskets full.
     
    Where do we look for deliverance? What hope do we have? Not in miracles from on high, no. But in the presence of God with us. We disciples may look around and believe that we are out of earthly possibilities. Except that God has inhabited the stuff of this earth. God has come to us in flesh and blood, in bread and wine, in water and word. God has claimed us at baptism. Blessed and broken and shared, Jesus not only offers us bread, but his very life, his presence, his compassion, his promise with us now. "This is my body and blood given for you." For nourishment, for healing, for freedom to act. God has promised that no devil, no ruler, no mob, no injustice, nothing in all creation will separate us from this love of God in Christ Jesus. That's good news for days in the middle of global pandemic.
     
    When you too feel like I've got nothing or next to nothing — I've got next to nothing left for my people, next to nothing left for this ministry, next to nothing left for my family and friends, next to nothing left for this moment... Well, good news: next to nothing is Jesus' favorite thing to work with! Bring it to me. Bring them to me. Like the disciples, we will never have or be enough by ourselves. But Jesus is enough. Sustained by Jesus and his promises, we've returned to the fray with hope. Where worldly wisdom suggests there is no cause for hope, we have hope. And we have so much to share. Jesus invites us to share the food with which we have been fed: bread and wine, mercy and sacrifice, community, hope, faith, and love. And hope and faith and love bubble up in fits of joy as God uses us little Christs to feed our neighbors, to speak the truth we know, and to act and work for the kingdom of God, where we know that all are welcome and all are fed. If you feel like you've got next to nothing left some days, it's enough. Because Jesus can turn next to nothing into more than enough. Bring it to me.
     
    And so may the peace of God which passes all understanding keep your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus our Lord. Amen.
     
    *** Keywords ***
     
    2020, Christ Lutheran Church, Webster Groves, sermon, podcast, transcript, YouTube, video, Pastor Karen Scherer, Matthew 14:13-21, D. Mark Davis, Left Behind and Loving It, COVID-19, coronavirus
  • Feb 16, 2020Matters of the Heart
    Feb 16, 2020
    Matters of the Heart
    By: Karen Scherer
    Series: (All)
    February 16, 2020. Guest pastor Karen Scherer preaches today on the law. Throughout the scriptures, the law is to be taken to heart and not only outwardly observed. In talking about anger, adultery, and divorce, Jesus teaches that it is one thing to behave according to the law, and another thing entirely for one's heart to be oriented toward love and mercy.
     
    *** Transcript ***
     
    Let us pray. Come to us, Holy Spirit. Open our hearts and minds that we might hear your word for us today, the good news of Jesus Christ. Amen.
     
    So I think it's a wonderful coincidence that Valentine's Day was just two days ago and that our readings this morning, two of them anyway, are all about matters of the heart. In Deuteronomy, as the people prepare to enter the Promised Land, the Lord through Moses sets before the people a very clear choice: if you obey the commandments of the Lord by loving the Lord your God, walking in God's ways, then you shall live, become numerous, and God will bless you. But if your hearts turn away and you serve other gods then you shall perish, and your days of living in the Promised Land will be short. If your hearts turn away. Where your heart is shapes your whole life -- your attitude, your actions, where you invest your time, your money, your efforts. It's all about the heart. Obedience, following God's commands, walking in God's ways, blessings, curses, choices -- it's all about the heart.
     
    Do you remember that first blush of new love for that someone special, when you were so in love with another one? You would have done anything for them because you loved them. But as that love matures over time, if it matures, then you come to know that it's not just about that feeling, that feeling for them. It's about walking with them, being with them, being committed to them, through life together. It's about commitment, about a covenant with them, those vows that you made whether they were official or not. You committed yourself to one another. It's about honoring them, caring for them, even when they are unlovable. Tom Long states that what lies at the heart of God -- and is at the heart of the law -- is in fact a committed covenantal relationship. The law is based on God's commitment to humankind, to y'all, and on our commitment to community with one another. It's all about relationship. It's more than going through the motions. It's a matter of the heart, a commitment of being, walking with, caring for, trusting the other.
     
    Today we hear the law. Jesus teaches us. And as I looked at your faces as I was reading that, I was looking at not good news on your faces. But he teaches us about God's intention -- God's intention for us as beloved, honored children of God. And this is not new to Jewish thinking. Throughout the Hebrew scriptures the law is to be taken to heart and not only outwardly observed. It is to affect not just our behaviors, but our attitudes and our emotions as well, for they are where our heart is too, and where God seeks to live in us. It is one thing to behave according to the law, Jesus says. It is another thing entirely for one's heart to be oriented toward love and mercy. Jesus connects the dots for us from outward acts to internal orientation. He goes from murder to anger, from adultery to lust, from divorce to responsibility and accountability. It is possible to abide by the letter of the law and still wreak havoc on the lives of others. That's what he's wanting us to hear: where it comes from. That we can carry out the law, and our heart can be so twisted.
     
    Let me give you some examples. We can pat ourselves on the back for not committing murder while we ruin the reputation of a coworker through our words. We even call it "stabbing someone in the back." We can do business in ways that are completely legal, but that leave our workers destitute and unhealthy, and maintain policies that ravage our environment -- but we have broken no laws. We can pat ourselves on the back for not committing adultery, and yet what we find is our primary relationships end up being maybe about work, or sports, or entertaining ourselves, or even the internet, rather than our spouse, from whom we are absent much of the time -- and thus unfaithful. It is possible to lead nations and corporations and businesses and organizations in ways that are legally sanctioned, but that serve only ourselves, and leave others broken. And it is easy to apply the law as a weapon to judge others, whether it be religious or secular law, to learn to use it with lethal accuracy, and to manipulate the world to our own agendas with it. But when we do this, when we do these things, the law becomes incomplete at the very least, and broken -- a shadow of the glorious glue that it was created to be.
     
    You see the law was created to bring order out of chaos, to create community -- that we could live with one another and care for one another, in relationship to one another that is good and life-giving, even as our relationship with God would be good and life-giving, trusting. That's why Jesus moves his hearers' understanding of the law from the realm of the letter of the law, to the realm of the heart of the law. It's not enough, Jesus says, to avoid murder. You also have to treat each other with respect and caring. Calling another names, awful names, demeans and diminishes you and those whom God loves: his children. And we don't want to hear this but yes, it brings judgment upon ourselves when we do that. It ends cutting us off from God, whose intention was very different. And we cut ourselves off from each other. I would urge you to go back to Luther's Small Catechism. How many of you have read the Small Catechism? If you haven't, pull it out, give it to somebody else, get it, get them a copy. In his Small Catechism and his explanation of the Ten Commandments, he talks about how the law is not only following it by the letter, but in fact extending it out. For example, not bearing false witness against your neighbor for Luther isn't simply about avoiding lying. It's also about putting the best construction on what a neighbor says or has done, and in this way tending to the communal relationships that simultaneously constitute and bound our Christian life together. It's about going beyond.
     
    We risk everything, people -- judgment and disconnection from God and one another and yes, even from ourself, from whom we were created to be -- when our heart is only oriented towards ourself. The Kingdom of God is much more than following rules. It's about the heart. And dare I say: if it's up to us, if we truly examine ourselves, then we are lost. Humankind is lost. Our individual heart is not big enough and our collective heart is not strong enough to fully complete the law, because our heart is not in it. But God's is. Ultimately, it is God's heart and God's heart alone that saves us. And that heart is made known to us in the flesh and blood of a human being called Jesus Christ, child of God. In him God was born among us, as the prophets had spoken and in fulfilling the promise of God. In him, God made flesh walked with us, truly saw us, and sought to teach us and to heal us, to heal our broken hearts, our twisted selves. He fulfilled the law to its fullest measure -- not twisting it to serve his own purposes, but giving himself in full commitment, full commitment to save us, by facing the powers and principalities of this world. Facing them not with violence, but with the giving of himself, with faithfulness to God and mercy upon us, freeing us, on that cross basically saying to us: you are set free from my love and my mercy. And God raised him from the dead. Thus, overcoming death and fear, we don't have to fear death. We don't have to fear those little deaths that others or the world tries to put on us, because we know that God loves us. In Christ Jesus we are set free.
     
    Jesus is the heart of God now, who teaches us with his word and empowers us with his spirit, who reorders the relationships of this world, of this community, and reorients our hearts, the internal landscape of our lives, reorients us toward God and God's love -- not what the world is trying to put on us, but what God is giving us. God is giving us God's heart for us to live out of, to live for all, not just ourselves. That's what happens when you are baptized. That spirit dwells in you. God's intention dwells in you, and it is always there in forgiveness and mercy, so that you may then give mercy and forgiveness. It is the spirit of Christ's heart, who is ever working to renew our hearts daily, moment to moment, to take away that curved-in self and open us up to others, and the pain and the hurt we see there. And then accompany us on a path of sacrifice and faith and love. The law is now opened up for us, and we are freed to be all that God dreamed for us to be. And in our trials, God through Christ grants us mercy. For we are not yet what we are meant to be. That is true. But we know that we are forgiven and freed to live without the fear of judgment, and to be filled with hope and promise.
     
    So we can ask forgiveness from a coworker whose reputation we may have spoiled with our words. We can do business in ways that care for our workers, though it may take some sacrifice on our part. We can develop policies that care for our environment, even as we care for those around us. We can find ways to live on less, and find that we have more of what really counts. We can commit ourselves to spending as much quality time as possible with our spouses, as much at least as we commit to ourselves as well, knowing that we must care for ourselves, too. We get to work toward a nation that lifts up the broken hearted, the poor. A nation that cares for the alien, the stranger, the widow and the orphan, and gives respect and dignity and worth to everyone. That's our calling. We get to do these things without fear, knowing that God is for us. And we can live with the hope and promise of life now and in the time to come, the life given to us in Christ Jesus. That's the heart of the matter. You are the heart of the matter in the world. So happy Valentine's Day, people of heart. Christ's heart lives in you.
     
    So may the peace of God that passes all understanding keep your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus, our Lord. Amen.
     
    *** Keywords ***
     
    2020, Christ Lutheran Church, Webster Groves, sermon, podcast, transcript, Karen Scherer, Deuteronomy 30:15-20, Matthew 5:21-37, anger, adultery, divorce, oaths
  • Jun 16, 2019We Had Hoped
    Jun 16, 2019
    We Had Hoped
    By: Karen Scherer
    Series: (All)
    June 16, 2019. After Jesus' death, two of his disciples spoke what are maybe the three saddest words in scripture: we had hoped. We had hoped Jesus was the one to save us, to restore Israel. Instead, Jesus is dead and we are defeated. Guest Pastor Karen Scherer preaches today on a hope that does not disappoint.
     
    *** Transcript ***
     
    Grace and peace to you from God our Father and our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.
     
    I don't know if any of you know or have heard of Pastor Nadia Bolz-Weber. Any of you know of her? Good, a few of you. Pastor Bolz-Weber is shockingly pastoral. She has tattoos and sleeves all up and down her arms, telling the story of the Trinity on her body. She wears nose rings and earrings, and periodically a lip ring, and her hair stands up straight. And she uses language in church -- that you probably would ask me not to use -- to express the reality of her faith and to proclaim the gospel to others. Young people love her because of her genuineness, and because of the love that God has placed in her heart and the faith that she has. She was pastor of a church called House For All Sinners and Saints. That name was chosen specifically to have Sinners be first and Saints be second in that title.
     
    I recently read a story of how Pastor Bolz-Weber would meet with new people who were wanting to join her church, a congregation that was exploding in membership. And she would meet with them at this welcoming meeting with newcomers, and she'd ask them to tell why they came to All Sinners and Saints. And they would share and give various reasons. Some would say they heard that she was very funny and inspiring, and very radical. Some shared that it was a compromise, because one side of the family was Baptist and the other side was Roman Catholic, and they thought maybe they could sort of meet in the middle at this Lutheran church. Others said they really liked the music. And another said that they felt it was a very welcoming and inclusive church. At the end of a meeting, she makes a point of always telling the people who are wanting to come to this church and become part of it: it's great to have you all here and it's great to hear of what has brought you here. But I need you to hear something from me, and that is that the church will disappoint you, and I will fail to meet your expectations or I'll say something stupid and hurt your feelings. It's not a matter of if, it's a matter of when. Welcome to the congregation, we will disappoint you.
     
    And is this not true? That's why Saint Paul makes an absolutely astounding statement in our reading for today from the letter to the Romans. He says that hope does not disappoint. Hope does not disappoint. Now, think about that for a moment. How many times have you hoped that something would happen and were sorely disappointed when it did not? Everyone of us has. But remember the story at the end of Luke's gospel, when three days after Jesus' death a couple of his disciples were walking down a road to Emmaus trying to make sense of what had just happened in Jerusalem: the triumphal entry on Palm Sunday, the shared meal, the betrayal, the arrest and the trial, and the crucifixion. And as they were talking about all of this, a stranger walks up (and of course -- spoiler alert -- it was Jesus, but they didn't recognize him). And he said to them, "Hey, what are you guys talking about?" So they told the story of Jesus' life to him. They told the story of his ministry and death, at which point they then spoke what are maybe the three saddest words in scripture: we had hoped. We had hoped Jesus was the one to save us, to restore Israel. Instead, Jesus is dead and we are defeated.
     
    Those two disciples started out with hope and ended with deep disappointment. Why? Because hope as a starting point for us looks like Palm Sunday. It looks like the crowds entering triumphantly into Jerusalem shouting "Hosanna!" But Palm Sunday always turns to Good Friday eventually. Think about it in your own life. We had hoped. We had hoped that the time and money spent on the graduate degree we had would mean we'd have a job by now in our field. We had hoped that our parents would love us unconditionally. We had hoped that by this time in life we would be happily married, or we would have a meaningful career, or we would be able to retire, or we would feel like we at least knew what we were doing. We had hoped that the Blues would win the Stanley Cup. Oh yes, they did! But what if they hadn't, which was highly possible? Our hopes would have been dashed. Disappointment. We had hoped that our children or our loved one would not have to suffer. We had hoped that what we had worked for so long would finally come to fruition, and that didn't happen. So it's a little hard to hear Saint Paul say that hope does not disappoint. What world is he living in, anyway?
     
    Well, the world humankind has constructed and strives to live in, we know, is filled with disappointment and pain and suffering -- because our hope, you see, is built on us and what we think we want. Our expectations, our hopes. But what about God's hope for us? You see, our hope is built on something less, on less of what it is that God has planned for us. That is, sharing the glory of God was God's intention for humankind, being in the full presence and in deep, solid relationship with God in the garden of the earth. The cosmos, following God's will for us, not our own.
     
    But our hope disappoints because we place our faith elsewhere. We place it on our own work, our own fate, our own hearts' desires. And you know what happens? That turns into an idealistic hope that somehow we can make things happen. And those things are about us, about what we want. And when something happens to dash that hope which has now become our goal, we find someone to blame. And so often, God is about the handiest person we have -- or ourselves, or others -- which is maybe why not only does Paul speak of a hope that does not disappoint, but he connects it to suffering. Because of those three saddest words -- we had hoped -- he connects it to the suffering and death of Christ Jesus. To the redeeming work of a God who seeks reconciliation with us and who seeks to give us peace and connection with God and with one another.
     
    The Easter hope we have, brothers and sisters, the hope that does not disappoint, has nothing to do with idealism or naïve optimism -- like when God shuts a door, God always opens a window. It has nothing to do with the avoidance of suffering. The Easter hope that we have is a hope that can only come from a God who has experienced our life, our suffering, our world -- who has experienced love and friendship and lepers and prostitutes and betrayal and suffering and death and burial and a descent into hell itself. Only a god who has borne suffering can bring us any real hope of resurrection. Only a god who is with us, and who has been with us and for us and among us and known the suffering of our lives, can bring us real hope. And that is the hope of new life, the hope of being raised up, the hope of resurrection. And if ever given the choice of optimism or resurrection, I'd go with resurrection any day of the week.
     
    And this is the god of whom Paul speaks and in whom we place our hope. This is a hope that does not disappoint, that looks less like being idealistic about ourselves, and more like being realistic about God's redeeming work in the world. It's a hope that comes not from naïve optimism, but from being wrong and falling short and experiencing betrayal and being a betrayer, and it comes from a suffering and the grave and what feels like a night from which dawn could never emerge, and then how God reaches into the graves we dig ourselves and others, and again loves us back to life.
     
    The Christian faith is one that does not pretend things are not bad. This is a faith that does not offer platitudes to those who've lost loved ones to violence or tornadoes or floods or terrible terrorist actions. This is a faith that does not take us out of suffering, but assures us of God's presence in the very midst of suffering. And we know this through Jesus Christ and by the power of the Spirit. So maybe the way suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, is that suffering, endurance, and character actually free us, free us from the burden of having to be naïvely optimistic and more to be absolutely realistic about the God who is with us and for us and among us.
     
    Maybe if hope isn't a very reliable starting point, then hope is not something we strive to muster up ourselves. Maybe real hope is always something we are surprised by. Maybe hope is that which is left after all else has failed us. This is an Easter hope. Nadia Bolz-Weber writes, "This is not a faith that produces optimism. It is a faith that produces a defiant hope that God is still writing the story, and that despite darkness, a light shines. And that God can redeem our crap," although she didn't use that word. "That God can redeem our crap, and that beauty matters, and that despite every disappointing thing we've ever done or that we have ever endured, that there is no hell from which resurrection is impossible." We have a hope that does not disappoint, given to us through the Father, through his son Jesus Christ, and by the power of the Holy Spirit. We have a hope that raises us and gives us hope for new life. And a hope that does not disappoint.
     
    Amen.
     
    *** Keywords ***
     
    2019, Christ Lutheran Church, Webster Groves, sermon, podcast, transcript, Karen Scherer, Romans 5:1-5, Luke 24:13-35
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