November 11, 2018. Do we know God? Guest pastor Rachel Asen preaches on the story of the Widow's Mite and of her dying father's last request, and says that to know God is to serve others through our gifts, even in the midst of our deficit. *** Transcript *** Good morning, everyone. Thank you for having me here today. It's truly an honor to be here. I pray that the words of my mouth and meditations of my heart might reflect even a morsel of the everlasting love of Christ. So I watched a video not too long ago of a social experiment, in which someone pretended to unknowingly drop money from their pocket while walking down a busy street. Time after time, the hurried pedestrians watched the money fall, they picked it up, and they placed it in their own pocket. The only individual who returned the cash was homeless. All he had were the clothes on his back and a small duffel bag filled with treasures that many of us might simply view as trash. When asked why he did this he answered, "I might not have much, but I have more than nothing." When we hear the word "poverty" we often assume it's referring to economic lack. After all, we don't have to go far to witness the impact of its devastation. Every day on my way to school I'm met by faces of those without shelter, without food, without medical care. Our brothers and sisters stand in the midst of idle traffic, draped in cardboard signs and weathered smiles. May we remember that each of us is merely one tragedy, one choice away from laying our head alongside them on a concrete pillow in the chill of night. Economic poverty is real and it's crippling. Yet so too is poverty of the spirit. I spent the majority of my life running from my gifts. Some of us jog. I preferred to sprint. Nonetheless, I was desperately trying to find a way out of what I consider to be God's suffocating embrace. I was a wayward lamb, smothered by the gift of my woolen coat. Our society is ever seeking ways to escape spiritual poverty, through social media, entertainment, drugs, alcohol -- each an attempt to evade the discomfort of our reflection, a reflection often fractured by personal and societal expectations. Yet, in our brokenness, in that debilitating state of loneliness and self-doubt, there is hope. Leonard Cohen writes, "There are cracks in everything. That's how the light gets in." Though poverty restricts our movement in society, it is not an absence of strength. Let us consider for a moment the word "mite" from the Widow's Mite story, not merely as mite, M-I-T-E, a few meager coins, but rather might, M-I-G-H-T, as in courage and vitality. When we acknowledge that lack is in fact not weakness, we divest ourselves from the shame that hides in the shadows of our inadequacy. Through faith, we are offered freedom to transcend terrestrial boundaries, despite the narratives into which we were born, and even those we've written for ourselves from remnants of our wounds. In the words of Lebanese poet Kahlil Gibran, "Doubt is a pain too lonely to know that faith is his twin brother." Christ is the sacred salve that fills our cracks, turning rivers of our brokenness into gilded veins of grace undue. There was a time, not too long ago, when I felt my own gifts were greatly insufficient. During my father's illness, he suffered from frequent bouts of uncontrollable sorrow. I would visit him often, and there at his feet listen to the pain of his neglected wounds and do my best to reassure him that, despite his perceived failures, he was loved. "What happened to you?" he asked me one evening. "You weren't struck down like Paul on the road to Damascus. Something happened. Well, what was it?" I smiled softly, "I found peace." "How?" he pleaded tearfully. "I learned to love myself," I answered. My father began to cry. "Rachel, I don't know how to do that," he said. I leaned over, I gathered his hands into mine, and I seized his gaze. "We're going to do it together, Daddy. We'll build a bridge from your head to your heart." During my father's memorial service, I raised my eyes to the heavens and I asked God if I had been enough. Could I, amid the debris of my own poverty, have added even a mite to his eternal treasury? In the midst of my uncertainty, a family friend began to tell a story describing his final visit with my dad. My father shared with him that the longest and most challenging journey of his life was in fact, not his disease. He said, "Johnny, the longest journey is from here to here." In that moment, like a jewel interred in ice beneath the noonday sun, my inadequacy melted away. I began to weep. Yet my tears were not born of anguish, but a blessed joy, gratitude for the gift of reconciliation, and reverence for the miracle that lives within the power of selfless love. We have nothing to give but all of our self. Jewish Theologian Abraham Joshua Heschel writes, "The affection and care for the old, the incurable, the helpless, are the true gold mines of a culture." In many cultures around the world, both impoverished and otherwise, elders are revered. Their wisdom is prized. They are not cast aside, but embraced. They are not forgotten, but admired. To discount the value of our elders is to effectively devalue ourselves, our poverty magnified by our unwillingness to treasure that which is most valuable. Three days prior to my father's death, he requested a bath. My mother dipped a blue washcloth in a tub of warm, soapy water and she offered it to me. I paused and looked down at my dad. "Are you sure you want me to bathe you?" I asked. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable." He nodded and whispered softly, "Just don't forget the cologne." As I swept the cloth across his chest, my hands seemed to capture the gravity of his condition in a way my vision simply could not. Mapping the peaks and valleys of my father's frame with my fingers formed a land defined by ubiquitous shadows of the setting sun. I paused as I neared his hips. "Would you rather have Mom do this part?" I asked. He shook his head. "Are you sure?" He nodded. I continued to bathe him and with every stroke, I became increasingly aware of the blessing that lay before me. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "For what?" I asked. "That you have to do this." I turned to meet his gaze. "You did it for me," I said through silent tears, "And now it's my turn." The act of bathing my father was one of the most sacred moments of my life. It was an honor to prepare him for his eternal journey home. I inherited a few pretty amazing friends after my father's death, one of whom died in hospice just a few short weeks ago. Her name was Marie, and she was a beautiful soul. During one of my last visits with her, she asked a question which encompassed the crux of nearly every conversation we had ever had. Her eyes filled with heartfelt wonder as she asked, "Rachel, do you know God?" True to her nature, she embodied the essence of a curious child, hungry for the zest of knowledge. And true to mine, I grinned playfully. "Well, that would depend on one's definition of 'no.' " She flashed her beautifully crooked smile, shook her head in a gesture of joyful exasperation and chuckled. "I'm so glad we're friends," she said. Marie was a widow, and through her gifts she enriched the lives of many. Still, her question lingers. Do we know God? In our poverty, will we add to the treasury both earthly and divine? Will we care for, and seek to learn from the gold mine of which Rabbi Heschel speaks? In the classic Christmas song "The Little Drummer Boy" the child sings, "I am a poor boy. I have no gift to bring that's fit to give the king." So he plays his drum for him. He plays his best for him. And then Jesus smiles at him. The Little Drummer Boy had nothing to offer but his gift of music. He had nothing but everything to give. To know God is to serve others through our gifts, even in, and especially within, the midst of our deficit. Just as the widow gave out of her poverty, we too must give of our lack, knowing that we will never be empty in the arms of Christ. *** Keywords *** 2018, Christ Lutheran Church, Webster Groves, sermon, podcast, transcript, Rachel Asen, Anthem, Mark 12:38-44, Widow's Offering

October 28, 2018. Pastor Stephanie considers different ways to relate the story of Bartimaeus to the Reformation, in her sermon today. *** Transcript *** So as we've said, it's Reformation Sunday. And that should mean something, shouldn't it? I know those of you who were here last year commemorated this in nearly every conceivable way, according to the reports I got, as the 500th anniversary of Martin Luther posting his 95 Theses on the door at Wittenberg Castle was observed. My husband Phil and I joined in with several friends at the worship service that was held in the Basilica as part of that commemoration. So, even though we're operating on a little smaller scale this year in 501, it seems that we should be remembering what prompted the Reformation in the first place. The appointed gospel reading is of course the story of Bartimaeus receiving his sight. I guess we might look at this interesting story of the blind man, Bartimaeus, who calls out to Jesus, for some way to see how that might be attached to Reformation Sunday. Just like when we read any gospel story, we can get hooked on one aspect or another and wonder what it is about that aspect that calls to us. This is a short reading, and yet I saw several things that might be good food for thought. We could look at the name "Bartimaeus," for example. You know that "bar" in Hebrew means son, and "mitzvah" means commandment. So if you're invited to someone's bar mitzvah, that means it's about son of commandment and bat mitzvah means daughter of commandment. So Bartimaeus the son of Timaeus is spelled out in that way. Here's where it gets interesting: "Timaeus" can be interpreted in a couple of different ways. In Aramaic, one of the languages in the New Testament, it means defilement or dishonor. The listeners who heard this story originally would have also realized that in Greek the word means honor. So Bartimaeus could then mean son of honor. This guy is simultaneously a son of honor and a son of dishonor. Isn't that the story of all humankind, really though, the state in which each one of us find ourselves some parts worthy of honor, some parts not so much? When we are honest with ourselves, it's the mixture that we all have within ourselves. But that's not the primary theme of the sermon. We could look more carefully at the response of the crowd, including the disciples, to the cries of this blind man. There was not much compassion given. They tell him to be quiet. If you've been on this journey with us through the Gospel of Mark, you've already seen plenty of instances where the disciples are just not getting it. They don't know what Jesus is about yet. So they've been telling people not to bring children up to Jesus, and now they want to keep a blind man away from Jesus. Well, we've had enough on this topic too, so that's not the theme of the sermon either. Here's another aspect we could consider. Maybe we could consider the part about Bartimaeus throwing off his cloak. He springs up and he goes to Jesus, leaving his cloak behind. Now, that detail must be there for a reason. What does this cloak signify? Could it be that he is leaving behind the only security as a beggar that he has known? He's probably spread out his cloak in front of him at the roadside, receiving gifts and alms that people have dropped on his cloak over and over again. So is this his act of faith that he isn't going to need his cloak anymore, since he's so sure Jesus will help him? Interesting to consider, but still not the main subject of this sermon. Because as I've said, this is Reformation Sunday, and I hope you take away from this service another point. It's something that transformed the way Martin Luther viewed his relationship with God and wanted everyone to focus on, more than the outward rituals of religion. And that is that it's God's desire to lavish grace and mercy on us, not because we deserve it, but because God is love and wants so deeply to have a vibrant relationship with us through faith. Our faith is predicated on God's love for us while we were yet sinners, as we said in the prayer of confession today. Christ died for us before we had a clue that we needed someone to demonstrate love for us in such a self-giving, redemptive way. Before we ever became aware of our need for forgiveness and restoration, salvation even, God was reaching out to us to bring us to a place of recognition and receptivity in order to gain this glorious gift of salvation. As Ephesians 2 says, we were dead in our trespasses. But God, who is rich in mercy (one of my favorite phrases in there) did not leave us there but instead made us together alive in Christ. So because this Sunday reminds us of the pillars of our theology, I'd like to take you through a little theological reflection on the gospel reading. This section in Mark 10 is an excellent illustration of the belief that we are saved by grace through faith. The blind man Bartimaeus, son of Timaeus, who may or may not have been honorable, doesn't really matter to this story because God loves all people. Anyway, Bartimaeus is sitting by the roadside near Jericho. He's heard of the reputation of Jesus as a compassionate healer. But the story doesn't really start with Bartimaeus, just as our own stories don't really start with us. God is the first mover. That's a concept familiar to those of you who love philosophy and theology. It means that everything starts with the nature and character of God. Your story, my story, Bartimaeus' story, all start with God. How do we see this in Mark 10? Well as reports of Jesus circulated, especially of his ability to give life to a little girl who had died, to heal the woman who had been bleeding for twelve years, to heal lame people and to calm storms (to recapitulate a little bit of where we've been in the Gospel of Mark) Bartimaeus wants to experience this Jesus for himself. Yes, he was motivated by wanting to receive his sight again, but also even the fact that Bartimaeus can recognize who Jesus is tells us something of God's initial action in Bartimaeus' life. When he was told that Jesus from Nazareth was passing by, it is said, he cried out. They called him Jesus of Nazareth. What does he cry out when he calls him? "Jesus, son of David, have mercy on me." Voices in the crowd knew Jesus as being from Nazareth. Bartimaeus recognizes that there's more to Jesus than just being identified as from this town or that town. Now, that means something to people in St. Louis, as you know. To know that someone came from Chesterfield, or Hazelwood, or Affton is a source of conversation. But identifying Jesus from where he'd come from didn't mean anything to Bartimaeus. He calls out to Jesus, identifying him as "son of David." That's a recognition of Jesus being the promised one that he and his people, the people he knew, were longing for, for the one who was going to set everything right arising from the line of David. This too is a gift from God: that Bartimaeus, in his physical blindness, would have insight into the uniqueness of Jesus. So, God moves first in this story, acting in ways of pure grace, giving Bartimaeus even the smallest kernel of faith. Spiritual insight, if not physical sight, to start with. I wonder, do you ever stop to think about what you know about God, even if it doesn't seem that much to you, that even any of it is there because God has already done something in your life to draw you nearer to God? It's there because God has prepared a way for you and me to know and to experience more fully. Well next, we see Bartimaeus calling out to Jesus for mercy. In faith, Bartimaeus calls on Jesus to provide for him what he most desires. He is, at this point, utterly relying on the mercy of God, and not on anything that he can offer by way of earning God's favor. People who like to check out all the ways that Greek or Aramaic words are used in the New Testament provide a lot of help to people like me, who like to know but lack the patience to spend hours poring over comparing where this verb shows up and that verb shows up. Of course, it's much easier now with computers. But it used to be that people had to look and notice and write it down and then compare, so I'm thankful for lots of helps in this regard too, because I think these words are very important. I also appreciate learning from the people in our Tuesday text study, including Pastor Roger, who are really up on these things. They can always shed some light on the significance of the various words that are actually used. In this case, it is noteworthy that the verb used for Bartimaeus calling to Jesus is a strong, strong word telling us that Bartimaeus is begging for mercy. He is crying out. He is intensely calling to Jesus. He's putting all of his hopes on what Jesus can do for him, because he has the faith that Jesus can and will do something for him. "Jesus, son of David, have mercy on me." And, Jesus does show him mercy. He restores Bartimaeus' sight. How he restores Bartimaeus' sight we are not told in this story. All we have is Jesus saying, "Your faith has made you well." Or whole. The word is "sozo." This is one Greek word I really know. And it's an important one because it's the word for salvation. It means salvation, wellness, wholeness, peace, shalom, any manner of well-being, of wholeness. And then we are told that Bartimaeus regained his sight and followed Jesus on his way. I think that's an important addendum. It's an illustration of what Reformation leaders call salvation by grace through faith -- God's grace, prompting us to see and to receive grace through eyes of faith also given to us by God. It all comes from, and all cycles back to, God's goodness and mercy for God's glory. So, you may wonder, what's our part in this? I guess it could be summed up in one thought: we get to respond to God's grace. For one thing, we celebrate and praise God for the salvation that has come to us as God's gracious gift in Jesus Christ. We do this each week in worshipping together, and throughout the week as we reflect on the goodness that God has given to us. Sometimes when we think about these big, sweeping, theological concepts of salvation coming to us by grace through faith, we can forget that this is an ongoing thing. Bartimaeus didn't just thank God and then go back to his old life. Even though he could now see and didn't have to be a beggar, he probably had other relationships, other things he might have done with his time. But he became a follower of Jesus regardless of how those other connections were kept up. Some of what is troubling in the larger church today, and I don't mean here but I mean in the larger scope of the church, is that people can talk so much about salvation as a commodity as though "Will I have my salvation?" And then, "Now that's all I need. And so we can go on our merry ways" If that's their belief. But there seems to be no sense of continuing into the path and recognizing that there's always more. There's always more mercy. There's always more grace. There's always more that we will see and experience with Christ, as we continue to follow him. And God's set up that way because God likes being in relationship with us. So as we follow we are continually in the process of realizing more and more of what God is willing and able to do, in and through and for us. Like Bartimaeus, we have lots of occasions in which we want to call out for mercy in our own lives and for the lives of others. And like Bartimaeus, we are exercising the gift of faith that God gives us as we do. At least one part of exercising faith through prayer is asking for help, or grace, from the holy one in faith. It is calling to the one who is more willing to respond than we can ever imagine, and more capable of response than we dared to hope. The prayer of faith we get from Bartimaeus has been simply called the Jesus Prayer. It is practiced by people around the world. It originates in the pleas for mercy in the psalms, and also throughout the ministry of Jesus by those who called on him in various ways, including this call or cry from Bartimaeus. It simply goes like this -- and you cannot forget it, once you've got in your head -- Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy on me (or on us, as the occasion warrants). You can pray it as a meditation as you breathe in and breathe out. Some people find that a very helpful practice, as do I, to breathe in the words "Jesus Christ," breathe out "Son of God," breathe in "Have mercy on us." I find this especially valuable when I don't have any other words because feelings can be so intense. When you have a personal need or concern for another that is so great, or circumstances that seem so overpowering, you can simply express your faith in the one who gives grace. It's the kind of prayer I find myself repeating when news such as we received yesterday showed up in news sources of every kind -- that a shooter had entered a synagogue in Pittsburgh, killing and injuring many Jewish worshippers. At times like this our words seem so inadequate. It is difficult to give voice to the anger, sadness, lament, anguish, and sorrow that we feel for the people most directly impacted, as well as for ourselves and our surroundings, our corporate sense of security, our trust, that some places at least are havens from violence and strife, gets shaken to the core. Whether these prayers for mercy are for these intense needs for healing and comfort for others, or of mercy for ourselves and our failures and our remorse, God hears these requests for mercy. Those who know of their need for mercy and of whom they need to ask it, do find mercy, and wholeness and peace. This is faith. It is the faith which knows that grace and mercy are the gifts of God. It is faith that experiences grace as the gift of utmost importance and returns thanks to the giver of all good gifts. In the words of the Apostle Paul, which so moved Martin Luther to take his stand, it is by grace that we are saved through faith. This is not our own doing. It is the gift of God, not the results of works, so that no one may boast. We have received mercy through what Christ has done for us, friends. Now we can live in continual relationship with God, who is always rich in mercy toward us. God does have mercy on us. Thanks be to God. *** Keywords *** 2018, Christ Lutheran Church, Webster Groves, sermon, podcast, transcript, Pastor Stephanie Doeschot

September 30, 2018. Jon Heerboth preaches on Philippians 1:18. We may have many points of view about our best way forward here at Christ Lutheran. Our agreement though should be just like Paul said. "What does it matter? Just this, that Christ is proclaimed in every way, whether out of false motives or true, and in that I rejoice." *** Transcript *** If I were in a classroom instead of in a church today, I would say that we're going to have a brief review here before we start the lesson for today. Last week we heard Jesus explain that he would be put to death, and three days later he would rise again. But the disciples didn't know what he was talking about. They didn't understand him and they were afraid to ask, so instead they were arguing about who of them was the greatest. Jesus sat them down and explained that whoever wanted to be first must be last of all and servant of all, and then he picked up a small child and held the child in his arms and said that whoever welcomed the child welcomed Jesus, and the one who sent Jesus. Now, in today's gospel Jesus is still holding the child. He still has the child in his arms while he's talking with his disciples. But John interrupted Jesus to report that some other healer had been casting out demons in the name of Jesus. The disciples went and told him to stop it because he was not one of them. "You can't use Jesus' name unless you're one of us," they said. Now you can imagine the disciples gathering around Jesus closely to hear what he had to say about this. Jesus began to speak, but he could see that they weren't getting it. He had to make his point three times. "Do not stop him, for no one who does a deed of power in my name will be able to soon afterwards speak evil of me. Whoever is not against us is for us. For truly I tell you, whoever gives you a cup of water to drink because you bear the name of Christ will by no means lose the reward." Jesus had to work hard to make that point to the disciples, but it's a point that we need to hear as well. We are used to hearing phrases like, "If you're not for me you're against me." Pro or con. X or not x. No middle ground. The problem is that this kind of thinking excludes so many people, and Jesus turns it on its head: "Whoever is not against us is for us." Just the opposite of the way we often think. With these words, Jesus moves us from excluding people to being inclusive, from suspicion to welcome, from left out to invited in. The love of Jesus and the power of God can cut through this "friend or foe" thinking, so that we can welcome almost everyone into our fold. My dad related his experience years ago, before Lutherans were talking about working together as church bodies. It was 1949, just four years after the end of World War II, when my parents arrived in Sapporo, Japan to begin their careers as missionaries. Shortly after they arrived, Dad and his good friend Paul were invited to a prayer group of Japanese Christians. Dad said they really wanted to attend the meeting, but they were troubled and a little worried because none of the attendees was Lutheran, and they were not permitted to pray with people of other denominations. Dad and Paul decided that they would attend the prayer meeting, but they were worried that a very strict colleague might create a problem for them by reporting to the mission board in St. Louis. So, Dad and Paul went and they were introduced to a group of Japanese Christians. Dad said that each one introduced himself with a name and his former Christian denomination. "I am of Baptist antecedent." "I am of Methodist antecedent." "I am of Roman Catholic antecedent," and so forth. Before World War II these Japanese Christians stayed with their denominational groups, but when the war started it turned out the secret police didn't ask their denomination. They all got locked up together for the duration of the war. "When they came for us, they came because we were Christian." Denomination became irrelevant to them. What mattered was that they all followed Jesus. The two missionaries learned what mattered and what didn't. Now, we worship here among like-minded Christians for the most part. We know we have a lot of work here to do at Christ and in the world at large. We would like to grow as a congregation. Our congregational leaders and our members have been looking at this growth from several directions. The monthly newsletters and weekly announcements remind us of how often we tie in with other Christians in our area and throughout the world. There are many opportunities here to work together for others and to bring others to Christ. Our doors are open and we hope they are welcoming. In addition, we have been thinking about how to improve our outreach by maintaining and improving our facilities. Now the last thing we want to do is what Jesus warned us against in today's gospel. We want to be open to all, and we do not want to place any stumbling blocks in the path of one of these little ones who believe. Now Jesus was speaking directly of a young child he was still holding in his arms during all of this, but you could substitute the child with anyone who feels like he doesn't quite belong, any one of low social standing, anyone who's felt like an outsider instead of an insider, anyone who is different and feels different and feels like they don't belong with the rest of us. Jesus is talking about doing things that make other people feel unworthy, like somehow they are not good enough or their differences are somehow too great to receive salvation through their faith in Jesus Christ. Jesus has harsh words for them: a millstone, a big one, pulled by a donkey, tied around the neck, tossed into the sea for those who leave stumbling blocks. Now it's really easy to read through this and skip over those passages about millstones cutting off hands, feet, tearing out eyes, and just say that Jesus was exaggerating and move on. But if we do that we, miss the central point, that we don't want to be the cause of anyone stumbling in faith. Jesus was still holding that small child. He was absolutely serious about stumbling blocks and coming judgment. Do we want to hear the truth, that we could be the cause of someone tripping up in their discipleship, that we could be the cause of someone stumbling in his or her faith, that we could be the cause of someone questioning whether or not he or she is truly a critical and viable member of God's kingdom. And we would rather blame someone else, or just conduct safe and secure demonstrations of faith, than take accountability for the ways in which we might have prevented others from living into their fullness as disciples, their fullness as children of God. We would like to assume that putting stumbling blocks in the ways of others is just a temporary misstep in their lives. We think they'll quickly get back up on their feet and get over it. A nondescript, almost unnoticeable trip up along the way couldn't lead to a lifelong trajectory, could it? Maybe we could convince ourselves of that. But yet, if we're honest, we know that tripping over something, a little stumble can lead to a major fall, a fall from which it takes a very long time to recuperate, if ever. We learned that this week from watching the news, didn't we? When we place stumbling blocks in the paths of those trying to answer God's call, as they and only they can hear it and live it, we are essentially silencing them. "No," said Jesus. "Don't you dare." We do not want to feel that unquenchable fire. Now we will have many points of view here and differing opinions about our best way forward here at Christ. Our agreement though should be just like Paul said in Philippians, chapter 1. "What does it matter? Just this, that Christ is proclaimed in every way, whether out of false motives or true, and in that I rejoice." We Christians here at Christ, and wherever our brothers or sisters gather on Sunday morning, are united in our desire to hear the word, pray together, and to gather at the Lord's table. We don't want to be salt that has lost its flavor, and we sure don't want to be salted with fire. Our salt is from God. So let us all be at peace with one another. Amen. *** Keywords *** 2018, Christ Lutheran Church, Webster Groves, sermon, podcast, transcript, Jon Heerboth, Philippians 1:18

September 2, 2018. The essence of hypocrisy is when people's words and actions may appear to honor God, but their hearts are steeped in pride and sin and judgment of others. Pastor Stephanie discusses this in the context of the Mosaic Law as well as how this happens today. Do we have some adjusting to do when we look in the mirror? *** Transcript *** Did you find it a bit odd that it appears in the gospel reading that Jesus' disciples are accused of eating with unwashed hands, and that's just okay with Jesus? After all, that seems like something over which there should be no dispute. Washing hands before eating is just common sense, isn't it? Our moms told us that, and nearly every bathroom has a sign reminding us, at least the employees, to do so before they go back to handling food. Because it's just a matter of good hygiene to get rid of the germs. So this must be about something else. The interaction between Jesus and these strict religious leaders has nothing whatsoever to do with germs and hygiene, just to put your mind at rest on that. But it is all about religious behaviors and expectations. So, a little context for that is an order. The law of Moses, which we call the first five books of the Bible, devoted a lot of attention to the matter of ritual purity. That means performing rituals in order to be considered pure. There were lots of things specified, from touching a dead body, to the mixing of meat and milk, and other things that we consider very peculiar now, that could make one ritually unclean and therefore barred from temple worship. But it's important to note that the state of uncleanness was not the same thing as sinfulness. One could be ritually unclean just in the normal course of life by having done nothing wrong. And the prescriptions for that were not repentance, but ritual cleansing. And over time, those cleansing rituals became of utmost importance and there were more and more of them. When visiting Israel these days, it's quite amazing how frequently you will see baths for ritual cleansing -- they're called mikvahs -- in nearly every archaeological excavation. They were ubiquitous as we traveled around the country, obviously revealing how valued they were as part of the religious culture into which Jesus arrived. I would certainly not want to give the impression that Jesus was against people being cleansed from impurities. That would be far from the truth. But the confrontation of Jesus with the Pharisees from Jerusalem, as recorded in Mark 7, is not really about the whole issue of purity or of being cleansed from sin. It's about how these Pharisees were using laws to construct a system of ritual purity, more or less to define who was in and who was out. After describing the Pharisees' complaint to Jesus, Mark steps back a bit from telling the story to do some explaining to the folks in Rome, for whom this gospel was written. He might as well be explaining to us, because we don't observe these rituals either. They knew little or nothing about Jewish interpretations of the Mosaic law at that time. Mark correctly points out that the law did specify that priests needed to wash before performing sacrifices on the altar, but the law handed down from Moses had nothing to say about everyone else washing their hands in a certain way before eating bread. As frequently happens in religious circles however, more details get added that detract from original intentions over time. So the Pharisees, the ultra religious leaders, amplified the original teaching to include the expectation that every God-honoring person should wash their hands before eating, but it had to be done in a prescribed way. The practice was to take a specifically designed pitcher of water and pour it twice from the right hand over the left hand, and then from the left hand over the right hand (unless you were left-handed and then you could reverse the process). But this had not been taught by Moses. It was simply added on over time. But this was all-important to the religious leaders, so they asked Jesus, "Why don't your disciples wash their hands in the same manner as we do before eating bread?" Have you ever really looked at the way Jesus responds to those who claim to know God better than he does? It's quite ridiculous from our point of view, since we know who they are addressing but they clearly do not at this point. But, if you do look at Jesus' responses in these situations, you'll see that 9 times out of 10, Jesus will quote their scriptures back to them. So here, Jesus quotes from Isaiah, going right to the heart of the matter saying, "Isaiah prophesied rightly about you hypocrites. As it is written, 'This people honors me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me. In vain do they worship me, teaching human precepts as doctrines.' " He is saying that people's words and actions may appear to honor God, but their hearts may be very steeped in pride and sin and judgment of others. That's the essence of hypocrisy. And Isaiah adds, apropos to Jesus' situation, that the laws they promote in order to demonstrate their holiness aren't even from God. These are human constructs. So Jesus' punchline is essentially this: you have let go of the commands of God and are holding onto human traditions. Well, it gets deeper. Since they brought up the topic of how to act in order to honor God, Jesus sharpens the discussion by giving another example of the same sort of manipulation of the law through human traditions. He brings up something that they practiced called corban. He saw that as clearly conflicting with the word of God. The word "corban" means the declaration that something is dedicated as an offering to God. But through some crafty juxtaposition of this law, these leaders had figured out a way to circumvent other obligations of God's law, such as the clear commandment to honor your father and your mother. In their teaching, if a person was afraid of losing too much of their wealth by having to care for parents in old age, they could declare some of their assets as corban, set aside only for God. That was a religiously contrived word, to mean assets that could be declared as only dedicated for God. Now, in and of itself that sounds like a good stewardship practice. After all, setting aside resources to give to God is an important practice of honoring God. However, this practice came to be grossly misused. Many times, people would make from this a religious loophole from having to give the money away at all. Jesus is saying that some of them have avoided both the care of their parents, and withheld their giving for the good of others. Their hypocrisy was that they claimed to do something altruistic, yet in reality they were being self-serving. In today's world, a person might declare that their entire life savings is dedicated to some mission endeavor in order to avoid having to pay for parents' nursing care. They actually use it for themselves. It would be the same pious thievery that Jesus addresses, rather than real religious zeal. Jesus says that they are actually nullifying God's law rather than honoring it, and he says you do many things like this. Essentially, Jesus is attacking forms of outward piety and good works that are actually selfish and have nothing to do with honoring God. It's not too difficult for us to see how this happens today, either. Generous public gifts may also serve as timely and money-saving tax write-offs. Politicians who make a point of their love for Jesus may also find that it helps them in the polls. Some religious leaders in our time use the ecclesiastical authority of their office to groom young men and women for sexual exploitation. A person can be scrupulous about bowing in prayer before meals in a public place as a good Christian practice, or to make a show of one's piety. And when the conversation over lunch turns to gossip, the depth of that piety is revealed for what it truly is. To all these things, Jesus says, it's a matter of where our hearts are. Which leads us to some self-examination. If nothing else happens during this worship service, I hope that we each find ourselves wondering about the quality of our own hearts. Are we inclined toward listening to the good news of the word of God and letting it transform our words, our thoughts, our actions, our policies? Or do we have some cleanup to do in our own ways of justifying or bending the Commandments to fit how we went to operate? I find the lesson in James helpful here. "Be doers of the word and not merely hearers who deceive themselves. For if any are hearers of the word and not doers, they are like those who look at themselves in a mirror. For they look at themselves and on going away immediately forget what they were like. But," always the good news, "Those who look into the perfect law, the law of liberty, and persevere, being not hearers but doers who act, they will be blessed in their doing." God's word does function as a mirror. When we let it reveal who we are at the depths, at our heart level, we can respond in two ways. We can see ourselves and deny what is revealed and go on our way. Or we can take in the truth of what is revealed and bring into alignment what we hear, and then act on it with God's help. Why is this really important? What's at stake here? Certainly, the clarity of our witness. There is no way to completely root out the hypocrisy which shows up regularly in our human condition. But, there is a noticeable difference when people claim the truth and beauty of God's word, and humbly try to be continually reshaped and molded by the Holy Spirit to exemplify it. That's when the quality of the heart is revealed. The impact on others who observe us, and what we're about, is important. This is of grave concern when one considers the view the average non-church involved American has of our corporate witness today. I was just speaking about this with one of our professors here who said that so many students see the hypocrisy of people who call themselves Christian, but do all manner of unloving things. And they want nothing to do with that. As you know, recently a number of religious leaders were pictured as being at a meeting with the current president. We don't have time to go into the sordid details of the meeting, some of which I would label blasphemous and certainly heretical. So I'll let the synopsis of Jennifer Rubin, writer for the Washington Post, speak. She writes this: "The degree to which these religious leaders throw themselves at Trump's feet, ignoring all manner of immoral and un-Christian conduct for the sake of political power, has hurt both religion and politics." I wonder what Jesus would say about all the religious jargon and pious statements made by certain so-called Christian leaders, in light of the way that people are treated by this administration's policies. When all the rhetoric is stripped away, it would be difficult to say that the great commandment "Loving God and loving others as ourselves" is being honored. None of those things seem evident in any of the executive orders or policy changes that we currently see coming out of the White House. How did these policy changes measure up with your understanding of God's word, I might ask, although I think I know from knowing your hearts. It seems that these religious leaders, who eagerly follow and even bless what is currently going on, have done some of their own "adjusting" (if you will) of God's laws to fit their own blindness and pride. Not unlike the people whom Jesus challenges. But, because the reading of scripture reads "us," we also need to ask what about ourselves? Do we have some adjusting to do when we look in the mirror of God's law of love? I know that since I've been looking into the mirror this week, of the law, of love, of liberty, I have found words that would come into my mind to be spoken. But then when I thought about them more clearly, they seemed rather petty and unhelpful. Perhaps you see that also, when you stop to examine about the words that want to come forth from our mouths. James is helpful there. And I realized that some of my own signs or traditions that I've learned, as being the signs of a good Christian, are not necessarily essential to the faith. God is very good at changing our hearts. Let us give God the space and time to do that. Let us be examining ourselves as well to see, and then lets altogether be doers of the word, so that the words of life might be manifest in our lives. And by God's grace we will be able to exhibit the love of Christ which is in us and come out in an appropriate way to a greater degree than ever. Amen. *** Keywords *** 2018, Christ Lutheran Church, Webster Groves, sermon, podcast, transcript, Pastor Stephanie Doeschot