One Day

Saturday for most folks is Dec 1st. Not so for those who go by the calendar my father as hanging in his kitchen! It's a fundraising-type calendar from a local fire department, I believe--and there's a misprint on it.

November has 31 days!

In this busy world in which we can barely slow down to have dinner together, what a gift it would be to have an extra day. A day not in the palm pilot or date book, no meetings, appointments, or to-do's. Wow! What would you do with such a thing as an extra day?

Would you take a nice long nap? Catch up on your reading? Spend some time with the kids? Pray and think about God. What would you do?

I'd like to invite you all who read this to email me what you would do if given a "free" day. Then I'll put together a "Part Two" of this post including what I would do! Sound like fun? The address is tomteich@ecunet.org

Look forward to hearing from you!

Pastor Tom

God and Me

God and Me – Creation

In the beginning…I wasn’t around, contrary to how old my son believes me to be. I didn’t see how God created the sun and the moon, the earth and the seas, the birds and lizards and fish and elephants. I wish I was there when God created black flies—so I could have stopped him. But I wasn’t.

I wasn’t there so I don’t know how long it took—whether days in this case means 24 hours or not. Whether God created in a blink of an eye, or the blink of ten millennia. I don’t know that. I do know this—it all happened in the beginning. It all happened at God’s command. It was all good—God said so. And God made it all for love—no other reason. Because God wanted a relationship with others. What a gift!

And on the seventh day God rested, because he was finished. For the time being anyway. I envision God on the eighth day, stretching and yawning and then getting back to work, creating. A splash of rain there to make the apple trees blossom. A bit of sunshine there to dry out the wildebeests as they shiver in the early morning dew. Yes, I believe God is continually creating, continuously creating—over and over the same things, and then new things too.

Luther would have agreed I think. He wrote that God made him and every creature, that God gave and still preserved his mind and body. And that God provided things like shoes, food, shelter, and family each and every day. Creator still.

And we are his co-creators. As stewards of the earth, as caretakers and creatures both, our job is to tend and to co-exist with the natural order, to preserve and protect and produce as well. We produce – create – not like God from nothing, but from the bounty of the earth. From the raw materials allotted us.

And what kinds of things do we co-create with God? Things like penicillin. Pasta primavera. Cock-a-poos. Families. Friendships. Worshipping communities. Of course, none of these have the grandeur of the Grand Canyon, or the complex simplicity of warm sunshine on a rock, or the quirkiness of a duck-billed platypus. But because we create them with God—they are sacred. Sacred.

Think about it. What we do is touched by the hand of God. The meal we just finished, the proposal you labored on this afternoon, the poopy diapers you changed—all made holy due to our collaboration with God the creator in his continuing creation.

Once when I worked at the camp in NC, I was having a rough day. Nothing was working the way I wanted it, Lisa was crabby with Erik, and everything was just messed up. I remember I went out to do something, and I walked down the dirt road tat went through camp. And there at the woods edge I saw something. I thought at first it was a large white dog, or a goat. But it wasn’t. It was an albino deer, and some of his regular colored brethren beside him. Something you don’t see every day. He was grand!

Much later I realized—if I hadn’t been having such a day, I probably wouldn’t have walked that route, or seen that beautiful sight. It was a moment co-created by me—in spite of myself.

And that’s the way God is. He creates and creates. He gives and he gives. All in spite of our taking it all for granted or messing it up. It’s grace—nothing else—the way God includes us in his work of creation. Grace.

Close your eyes now and think back to a moment you created with God. The birth of your children. The prize pumpkin from your garden. A restored 69 mustang cherry red. Think about that relationship with God that he allows us. And think about all he creates for you each day. Thanks be to God!

Jerusalem

Pray for the peace of Jerusalem. That's right out of the psalm for next Sunday. Totally in line with what's going on in Maryland this week--with the mideast peace talks and all. We should in this day pray for the peace of Jerusalem as well.

Pray for the Israeli people.

Pray for the Palestinian people.

Pray for those who make war, that they may soon espouse peace.

Pray for the religions that revere Jerusalem.

Pray for those who meet to talk peace.

Pray for awareness of the world's problems.

Pray for our own Jerusalem - that which we find to be the holiest in our world.

Pray for peace--in Darfur, in Afghanistan, in Iraq, and other places in conflict.

Pray for peace within our walls - as a nation, a state, a community, a church.

Pray for peace and well-being for all.

Amen

This and That

The Flamingos won their first game Saturday!! I was impressed by their increased sense of team, and their fancy footwork--also one substitute's dedication to the game despite feeling ill. I also liked the fact that for the most part, they stayed professional and compassionate when the score and time left guaranteed the win. Good job guys!

Have you heard about Angela's dream of a revitalized Lutheran Youth Organization in the NE Synod? She went to the LYO leadership conference recently and got fired up. She's called a meeting of youth and advisors for Dec 29th at 10:45 - 3 ish at Redeemer Lutheran Church in Woburn MA. We have a great bunch of kids, and we all should be proud especially of Angela. She really has a heart for leadership. [Check your snailmail newsletter for more on the LYO event.]

Speaking of youth--I just finished teaching my first class with the 9th grade confirmands. What a great bunch of people they are--confident, but not egoistic; talkative, but not out of control; inquisitive, but not uninformed! They were good students and I look forward to our classes. (hope they will too!)

By the way--I'm using Faith Inkubators Living the Faith series for confirmation--continuing the class in the format their 7th and 8th grade teachers started them on. It's my first experience with actually teaching it---did attend an informational meeting when it first hit the streets mmmfff years ago! It grows on you. It's so action packed and there's so much material and accessories that I know I could keep them going two hours easy--and I think we'll be getting fome parents and senior highs involved in the class events. And we need to move around more. I guess I'm getting excited about confirmation again!!

Have you seen Sunday School taking place outside with games, or in the kitchen with cookery? Do you know about the new Computer Lab in Messiah House? Rotational Sunday School seems to be working out quite well. Kids are more excited at opening time and actually sing a little bit. We have fun flying paper airplanes and playing balloon volleyball, and making a card for a shut-in. And there's been a whole new lineup of teachers--those who couldn't commit to a whole semester stint find it easier to give two weeks time! Get ready--I'm recruiting teachers for the third rotation!

Any one out there know of someone who can work on our Kurzweil keyboard. The battery has punked out after ten years (est life was 3-5!). We need to change that old battery--do you know someone--or are you that brave someone?

That's all for now--
Pastor Tom

Things I should be thankful for, and then do something about

Clean water in abundance
Turn on the tap and it's there--drinkable, in never-ending supply. That doesn't happen just everywhere. I should be thankful, and conserve this resource, help assistance organizations to dig wells, and speak out against pollution.

Books and information
At my fingertips is the internet--font of info both good and bad. Around the corner is the library, filled with knowledge. On my shelves are books I haven't even gotten around to reading yet. I should thank God for such riches! And I should push for increased internet access for the poor, and up to date text books in all schools.

Joy at holiday times
I can revel in the traditions, food, and hoopla--laugh, and sing, and hug. I should be thankful for the things way beyond my control that enable me to be so merry. And I should notice more the underside of the holiday season and those who are not happy due to loss, poverty, and illness.
I should not try and "cheer them up", but rather to listen to their pain--and respect it.

relatively good health
I'm not 100% but at least I have access to health care and the where-with-all to make changes in my life to promote my increased health. I should shout God's praises for this less than perfect, achy old body, and then take care of it like the temple of the spirit that it is.

Oh there's lots more. But no time (actually time is something I do have and should be thankful for). So--what should you be thanking God for this day, but are blind to. And what should you do about it when your eyes are wide open?

Happy Thanksgiving! Don't eat filled with guilt--eat, drink and have a second piece of pie--but remember to do something about it!

Pastor

Once Upon a Church (sermon draft 11/18)

There’s a chill in the air these days. Winter’s is fast approaching, and with it the darkness of its shortened days. The leaves are all but gone, and the cold wind seeks out every nook and cranny, driving us from outdoor chores and recreation, to inside and inside pursuits. Playing board games. Baking cookies. Gathering around the dinner table and sharing a good meal. Sitting close to the woodstove or fireplace. And telling stories. This is a good season for stories—for spinning yarns of days gone by, for telling tales of daring-do and adventure, for hearing accounts of characters both good and evil, and of situations both tragic and comedic. Fables, fairy tales, legends, and anecdotes. Stories.

I have a story to tell you this morning, my children. A story of hope and perseverance, a story of hard work and sacrifice, a story of love and commitment. A story of faith. Faith in God’s goodness and grace and abundance and steadfastness.. A true story.

You all are in this story, my children, as am I—all of us together. In a way, it’s really many stories, all intersecting with each other and all converging towards a unified conclusion. In other ways, it is two stories—one wrapped up in the other, the characters in the one taking their cues and motivations from the other. But mostly it is one big story, and as I said—we are in it—caught up and drawn on by the compelling content of its narrative flow. This is a story of you and I, a story both of those who went before us and those who will follow us, a story of God, a story of love poured out for us, A story of mission, a story of ministry, a story of stewardship—a story of the church, a story of this church.. Gather round then, my children and listen.

They say the church is not a building, but a people. And they’re right—and wrong. The church is people. People like you and me. But not just any people. The church is a people gathered around the good news of Jesus Christ, a people fed with God’s word, a people sent out with that word and with that good news to gather and feed others in Christ’s name. And then to send them out.

The church is a people set apart, who in response to God’s steadfast love and abundant gifts, commit themselves to living in the story of how God creates, cares for, and redeems all that we can see or experience. A people who commit to give their hours and days, their labor and abilities, and their riches in coin or in kind to move that story ever onwards towards its promised end. No. The church is not a building.

But you know that, don’t you, my children? For long it was—sixteen years and more—that you were the church without a church building. It started with a dream and a desire to tell people the story of God’s forgiveness through Jesus Christ. A man was sent to witness to the community and gather those led to him by the Spirit. An apostle he would have been called in New Testament times. The group met in a house at first, like the first Christians did in the early days of the church. A small group of believers gathered together by their common desire to present a Lutheran witness to the community. And then more people came. And then more. The infant church bounced between several larger meeting places as it grew, eventually settling in at the elementary school—a central hub of the town’s communal life. Paul would probably have picked the same location himself based on that fact. Speaking of Paul, you also met under a tent occasionally—which would certainly have pleased that old tentmaker.

Finally, with eyes towards a future generation of Christians, you built this place—not as a museum or clubhouse—but as a mission outpost. A place to come and be nourished, trained and refreshed for the truly vital portion of the mission—that which takes place between Sundays.

And what a beautiful place it is—a place of worship, or meditation, of music and art, a place of youthful laughter and energy, a place of deep and quiet spirituality—God is present here in the word, in the sacraments, and in the body of Christ, the church—his people. Together we worship here, we share meals here, we console each other and pray for one another within these walls, children play here and various community groups share the space. This building is central to your witness to the community and to your ministry. It is central, but not the center.

You know what the center is. Because once upon a time, you came to be a part of this church. You were baptized into God’s Church, but somehow you came to be involved in this local expression of that Church, Messiah in Amherst. Do you remember that day? The year? Where the church was meeting? Who the Pastor was? Turn to someone now—not your wife or husband! Turn to them and tell them briefly the story of how you came to be at Messiah. Go ahead—I’ll wait for you.

Once upon a time you came to be a part of this church and each of your’s story is now a part of Messiah’s story, just as Messiah’s story is a part of the larger story of the Church. And a big part of Messiah’s story is about stewardship. Stewardship modeled by members and the church as a whole, and stewardship modeled for this church by others

Stewardship modeled by members who give gleefully of their time for jobs that are sometimes thankless, sometimes forgotten, but always for the sake of Christ. Members who without a second thought bid exorbitant amounts on a rubber chicken because they know the funds will go to charity. A congregation that gives 24% of its giving away, so that other organizations might serve the community and the world. That’s two tithes! This congregation models good stewardship of God’s gifts. You understand that stewardship is more than supporting a budget, more than paying bills. It is a way of being in the world that includes all others needs along with your own. It is an attitude of abundance over scarcity—the recognition of the enormity of God’s gifts to us and the responsibility that we inherit to use them wisely and carefully, joyfully and sacrificially, gracefully and gratefully. We know we are stewards—caretakers of all that there is for the benefit of all who are here. We know this and model it.

Maybe that’s because good stewardship was modeled for you first. To fund a new mission start the investment over the period from inception to self-sufficiency is close to one million dollars. That all came from people pockets—and from other churches. Including a church that could see even beyond their own mission’s end to the excitement of your beginnings. Good stewards all. Perhaps they rubbed off on you.

In fact, I’m almost sure of it because I know that you support many other causes with your time and treasure. There’s Lutheran Social Services, and Lutheran Disaster response, and the Share food pantry, and Augusta Victoria Hospital, and Anne Marie House and so many others. Call out now, if you will, one of the names of the organizations you support besides this church. Let’s hear from you! And so now their stories are interwoven with our story here at Messiah.

As is our story with that of Jesus and the early church. Jesus knew a thing or two about stewardship himself. In fact you’ll find that even when he’s not talking about it specifically, there’s still underlying tones of it. For instance, Jesus was teaching in the temple one day and some of the people exclaimed over the beauty of the building—its majesty and architecture and adornment. Jesus told them that the day would come when not stone would be left upon another. And then he talked some about the end times. Which doesn’t seem to be a stewardship lesson at first blush.

But if you know something about ancient Judaic temple worship you would realize that the temple in Jerusalem was the intersection of the earthly and heavenly, the place where the people believed God was. So their whole system of worship and salvation was wrapped up in that one building, and in the sacrificial system that supported it.

By saying that the time would come when it would be destroyed was radical, to say the least. But what Jesus is saying is that the church is not a building, it’s a people. And that the time allotted to them is best spent witnessing to the good news that God is not locked up in a temple (or a church), but is loose in the world, and that he wants to be in relationship with all of us. That’s stewardship.

Now, what’s the moral of this story? Where does it intersect with Messiah’s ongoing story? Well, since stewards is what we are as the church, then you could say it is that stewardship is not a building, it’s how you live your life! Meaning that stewardship has nothing to do with mortgage payments, or oil bills, or paychecks, or maintenance, or Sunday school supplies or any of the other myriad expenditures that it has as an organization. Stewardship is being thankful caretakers of what God has entrusted to us, and therefore we are stewards 24/7, 365 days a year.

So, grocery shopping is an opportunity to be a good steward. Cleaning out your closet is a chance to practice good stewardship. You can be a good steward at work, at school, on the soccer field, in a traffic jam, and when you do your Christmas shopping. You can even be a good steward at the dump (I mean transfer station!). Stewardship is a part of your leisure time, how you spend it. Stewardship is part of your budget, again how you spend it. 10 – 10 – 80. Stewardship impacts every choice you make, every decision you make, every alternative you consider.

Stewardship is not giving to the church. (Someone please revive the treasurer.) Yes. That’s a part of stewardship. But the bulk of it is wrapped up in your attitude before God. So, these are the questions you have to ask yourselves. Will you live in the abundance God has provided and partner with God in the care and redemption of all creation? Will you thankfully and generously share from that abundance, trusting in God’s care? Will you come before God this morning and lay on the altar a commitment to this ministry, so that it may continue to serve God with joy and faithfulness? Will you say “take my life that I may be consecrated Lord to thee?” Will you answer God’s call with “Here I am, Lord!”? Will you lay claim to your baptism and live your life as a steward of God?

My children, the story goes on from here—yours, mine, ours—the Church’s, and God’s. What will the next chapter be?

Go Flamingos!!

The Famingos are our new youth soccer team here at Messiah. They play in a "for fun" league at a huge sports complex about 20 miles from church. So far their record isn't very good, but they have fun playing, and Lisa and I certainly have fun watching them. It reminds me of my days back at Gloria Dei, New Hyde Park, NY. We didn't play soccer but we did play basketball--even had team uniforms. (The Flamingos have pink t-shirts and socks--it's only a matter of time before we can order the fan version I hope!)

Sports are a big part of these kids lives. One dad mentioned that he practically lived there at the sports complex with three kids all active in various sports. I wonder what's the difference between their regular teams and coaches, and their experience on the Flamingos. (There is a difference--otherwise why have a church team?)

I think, from my observations that the differences lie in motivation and attitude. Surely the regular teams teach skills and self-confidence and good sportsmanship. And their coaches are decent, caring people interested in developing kids' character, self-esteem, and physical well-being. Otherwise, there'd be no teams because who would want the opposite.

But our team also teaches that the weak are just as valued as the strong. That playing well is more important than winning. That being together and running up and down a plastic-grassed field is fun when you're with your friends from church. That your church friends are okay. And that losing can be done gracefully, and winning graciously.

And our coach and her assistants show that they really care enough about these kids to give up Saturday mornings to be with them and coordinate their efforts, while modeling all the while the attitude of love for the neighbor--even when they wear a different colored uniform.

It shows out there on the field. They don't play any less aggressively. But they do play "Godly." Meaning they look out for one another, cheer one another, help one another, and remember what they represent as Flamingos. And they don't just do it for teammates. One of our youth kicked a ball this morning that a girl from the opposing team had the bad luck to block with her face. The young man's concern for her was immediate and genuine--and lasted beyond the moment to after the game.

Would he have felt the same on a regular team? Likely. But as a Flamingo, he had concern for her a a Christian. As Flamingos, these kids work together, have fun, and commiserate together as fellow church members. And as a Flamingo, the coach imitates Christ--who I'd like to think played games with the kids in Nazareth before going on to coach us all.

GO FLAMINGOS!

Pastor

Random Bible Reading

Every so often I like to structure my bible reading thus: open the bible and lay a finger on a passage and read it. Do you ever do that? It can lead to some interesting passages, or it can be (perish the thought) a trifle boring when you open up to some of the OT laws. Reading the bible in this way is good for variety, but I wouldn't suggest it as a primary method.

And I certainly wouldn't recommend that you seek "divine advice" from the bible in this way. There's an old story about someone who was at wits end, and decided to look for answers in that improbable fashion. He opened the bible up and jabbed a finger down on a text: "And Judas went out and hung himself." Surprised, the man went back to the bible for a second opinion, but ended up with: "Go, and do likewise!"


That's a silly story (and not very compassionate about those in dire straights). But it shows that your bible reading should take on some kind of order (there's lots of resources out there, including some that help you read through the bible in a year), and applying scripture to life should be done in the context of careful study--not first readings.

That said, I happened upon Psalm 42 this afternoon, and read these words

"As a deer longs for flowing water, so my soul longs for you O God."

Anyone who's ever been way thirsty can relate to this imagery. It gives me the feeling that this person who wrote the psalm really, really wanted to feel God's presence, but was having trouble. Thirst is an apt image for this deep longing.

I'm also reminded of the recent happenings at the Georgia state house, on which steps a prayer meeting was held. The governor lead prayers for relief from drought. (It's bad down there right now) Some thought that was church and state being too chummy--but that issue isn't my concern this time. And it did rain an inch after the meeting!

After reading the whole psalm, one finds that this is not so much a pine-y love story as it is a lament--he thirsts for God because he can't feel God's presence in his messed up life! Life has become barren and dried up, and his soul cries out for an absent God.

And yet...




There's always a "yet" in psalms.




And yet, the psalmist hangs tough--longing for a God who he trusts will eventually be made known in a caring, loving manner--as usual! "Hope in God, for I shall again praise him, my help and my God!"

Longing isn't forever with God. As we wind up the church year and look through Christ the King Sunday to Advent, rest assured: what God promises, God delivers; God is the cool, flowing spring from which we slake the thirst of our battered souls, refreshing them for love and service to the world. Hang in there, there's refreshment coming--for sure!

Pastor Tom

Flying in the Face of Logic (sermon 11/11)

Lisa and I are currently in negotiations concerning where we might celebrate Thanksgiving this year. My parents have invited us up to their house in Center Tuftonboro. That’s always nice. We have an invitation from some friends here. Tempting. We considered having a meal here at church, and inviting anyone who isn’t traveling to family this year. A Messiah family Thanksgiving. That could be fun. Then, making the decision even more difficult, the “kids,” Erik and Sarah, invited us down to Gettysburg for their first ever major holiday as a married couple. Sounds exciting. But Gettysburg—that’s a long way to go for turkey. Pizza maybe—but turkey? That’s a hike.

So, I thought—well, we’ll just buy them some airline tickets, and they’ll celebrate with us here. But, no—Sarah’s parents had already accepted their invitation to Gettysburg. And anyway—I forgot—Sarah, like a good number of other people, doesn’t fly.

And who can blame her? I mean—just look at an airliner. Who would ever believe that such a contraption would be able to lift off the ground and travel through the sky? Inconceivable! C’mon! Admit it—you’ve sat in the window seat of a 727 at take-off and prayed to God that the miracle of flight might occur again. It seems so unlikely. Oh, I know there’s science to it. But conventional wisdom dictates that heavy objects fall from the sky. And yet… (make swooping motion and jet noises). You might say it flies in the face of logic.

Defies logic. Like this equation: 1 + 1 = 3. How can this be? Even a fifth grader knows it just ain’t so. It’s two! It’s 1 + 1 = 2, not 1 + 1 = 3! But it is 3—for those who believe it to be true. Again—how? Well, I’ll tell you… later. But I will tell you this right now. It flies in the face of logic.

And we don’t like things like that. We like things to be tied up neatly in proven facts, or at least in well thought-out, logically coherent theses. We like logic. In fact we’ve invented a whole science and language of logic—with proofs and theorems and formulae (thesis – antithesis – synthesis) It’s all quite complex. A nightmare for us who are mathematically challenged, but a dream come true for those who, immersed in geekdom, consider a good old, knock-down, drag-out battle of the brainiacs to be the best thing since the graphing calculator.

But this isn’t a new phenomenon—this liking for logic. People have been that way for centuries—even back to Old Testament times—and they even applied it to God. They (Israel) firmly held to the logic that, when they were afflicted or oppressed Yahweh would avenge and restore them. So A, if they held to the commandments, and B, cried out to God for help, then C—God would come to their aid.

This theological system of divine retribution is shaken to the core by a story like Job’s. Job, of course you know, was faithful to God—a good person in every way. But, on a dare, God afflicts him—and man, oh man, does God ever afflict him. So, Job cries out to God, but God does not restore or avenge him. He just afflicts him some more. His friends insist that Job must have done something to deserve his fate, at the very least caused his continued suffering by chiding God and not acting humble enough. Nice friends. But they cannot wrap their heads around what’s occurring, or even more so—they cannot comprehend Job’s unshaken conviction that in the end, even despite his death, God will not abandon him. For Job friends, this flies in the face of logic.

For us too. For we share in the confusion that results when the realities of life crash headlong into what we thought we knew about God. Almost from birth we are told that God will care for us and protect us, and we believe it—until we get a bad diagnosis, or a pink slip, or our marriage falls apart, or a loved one suffers. Then we may have our doubts about God. And we’re taught that God listens to and answers our prayers. And we believe that—until prayers for an end to suffering go seemingly unheard. Then perhaps we’re not so sure about God. The God we thought we knew, the ways in which we believed God would act—should act—turn out to be not so mathematically predictable. The logical equations we relied upon are suddenly more complicated if not invalid.

And the only way to hold it together is to have faith. To trust, as Job did, that we will be delivered, if not in this life, then in the next. To believe, contrary to the affliction and oppression that you are experiencing, to believe that God does care and protect and answer prayers. This stance is, as Mr. Spock would put it, “highly illogical” from our human vantage point. It’s 1 + 1 = 3. To trust like this flies in the face of logic.

And we like logic. So instead of just trusting, instead of letting God loose—to be and act in the word as God sees fit, we scramble to shore up our logical construction of God, adding points and factors and if-then’s that seek to corral God into acting more predictably. The arguments become highly nuanced as we try to force God back in the box we’ve fixed up for him. And woe to anyone or anything that serves to upset the applecart.

In Jesus time, the Sadducees were folks who could appreciate such finely-tuned logical rhetoric. They were the brainy, righteouser-than-thou, Jewish sect that adhered to the letter of the law as found exclusively in the first five books of the scripture. If it wasn’t in Genesis – Deuteronomy, they didn’t believe it. Their counterparts, the Pharisees (sssiiissss-boooooo!) looked to all of scripture plus the layered on traditions of the elders as their norm. Both groups crossed dialogical swords with Jesus at certain points in the gospels.

In today’s reading the Sadducees are looking to take this itinerant rabbi, Jesus, down a few notches utilizing their superior intellect. Obviously a lot of the things Jesus taught were outside that “Five Books of Moses” boundary that the Sadducees had erected. That made Jesus an irresistible target for them. So, the Sadducees pick one such teaching for their sneak attack. Resurrection. It flew in the face of logic for them.

Now, in retrospect, it is laughable that the Sadducees chose to debate the resurrection of the dead with the one destined to be the first fruit of the dead himself.. But they didn’t know. All they did know was that they could prove, they could prove, logically, that there was no such thing. So they ask Jesus a carefully formulated question about one bride for seven brothers in the resurrection. To them it’s a fool-proof question—the remarriage of the woman is according to levitical law, so how can Jesus possibly talk himself out of this logical corner?

Of course, Jesus’ answer flies in the face of logic.

What he basically says is this. You can’t compare this (get apple) to this (get orange). They share some points of reference—seeds, skin, they’re both fruits—but ultimately, an apple tastes like an apple and an orange like an orange. Likewise the earthly life and the resurrected life will share some points of reference—God is here and there, so are we—but the resurrection changes everything. The ways we interact will be different.

So, not to worry about whose wife the woman shall be. The resurrection will be what it will be (despite how we might try to shoehorn it into our logical systems—but that’s another sermon). No.. Better to hold fast to that illogical trust in God, and concentrate on the things we can effect in this world. We can help alleviate people’s suffering through our stewardship of resources—food, medical care, water. We can stand by the sick—visiting them, sending cards, running errands, or simply coloring a picture for them to hang up in a stark hospital room. We can speak out for the oppressed, make voices for peace and justice be heard over the rattling of sabers. We can tell our stories of how God did not abandoned us in times of need but was there in ways we didn’t recognize at first. We can act illogically towards one another, standing in each others shoes and forgiving the perceived slights, omissions, and sins, based not on retribution but on Jesus’ modeling of mercy and grace.

We can do these things. And in doing so God acts to care and protect us through us. Now, the rest of the world will look at us like we’re crazy, but we can still do them. Not because they make sense to us, but because they make sense to God. It’s a tough journey, coming around to this way of thinking. It takes time and energy and compassion and not a little bit of risking oneself.

That’s the kind of trust and faith Job had. That’s the faith and trust that Paul encouraged his churches to have. Faith and trust in a God who is predictably unpredictable. Faith and trust in a God of the living, whose illogically wonderful kingdom can’t be compared with the world we live in—but whose promised new life in Christ spills over into our reality wit love and care and grace and mercy and peace. Faith and trust that, flying in the face of logic, gives us the strength we need to hold fast to God’s, and gracefully turns frowns upside down! Amen

Oh yeah. Check it out. “Whenever two or more gather in my name, there I am also.” 1 + 1 = 3.. I told you it was true. Amen again!

What's Up With That, God?

If there's anything in my ministry that tires me most, it has to be defending a God who can let people suffer. Theologians call this the "question of theodicy." I call it hard work.

It's hard work holding together these two opposing ideas at the same time--God is good, and God allows suffering in his creation. (Oh, you might say that suffering is the result of sin having entered the world, it's not God's fault! I say that too--but at the same time, God is God and doesn't have to let sin stop him. And besides, the man born blind's sin was not the cause of his affliction, Jesus said, nor was it his parents' sin. So who's to blame when a husband or wife or God forbid! a child gets sick, or is starving, or abuse like the one on the news today--26 bones broken. Surely God almighty could have saved that child from suffering? That's surely God's fault.) It's hard work.

But to go the other way - say that there is no God, or that he's like a grand clock maker (winds us up and watches as we run down) is much worse. For who to blame the wonders of creation on? Or the exquisite joy of a new found love? Who takes the rap for the good in the world? Us? I don't think so.

So I guess I will have to keep working to keep those two premises in the air at once. What I usually do is add a third--just to make it even. God is good. God allows suffering in the world. But God sent Jesus, his son, who died that suffering may one day not even be remembered. When I add Jesus to the equation, somehow it takes the edge off God's culpability. Yes God allows suffering (we don't know why), but not forever. And sometimes God provides the means for us to relieve suffering - not all of it--but more each day. And one day, God promises, no more tears--only smiles and laughter and shouts of Alleluia!

The reading from Job in this Sunday's lectionary got me thinking of theodicy again. Why not read the book of Job and see what you feel about how God is presented in it...

Pastor Tom

In Search of the Perfect Pizza

Those who know me know that I love pizza. And that I'm on a quest to find that "perfect" pizza--the one that has the taste and consistency of the pizza of my youth on Long Island, NY.

Now I've had some good pizza since moving north in 1998 (believe it or not Gettysburg PA that perfect pizza - La Bella Italia if you go there two pies for 12 dollars!) The Handy Store in South Paris was cheesy ( a good thing this time) and delicous, and the Pasta Loft's wood fired fare is fantastico! But like us before God, they still fall short of the glory--in this case, the glory of the pizza at Umberto's or Lazio's in New Hyde Park.


Being back on the Isle of Long this past weekend, I thought I was headed for the promised land of pizza no matter where I went (unless it was to that Pizza Shack, or whatever its yukky pizza name is). But alas! The pizzeria we went to--just across from the Woodbury inn, was good--but, eh--not perfect! It was serviceable, and I ate every last bite--but it wasn't the pizza.

Oh well,at least the bagels were good in the hotel breakfast buffet (bagels are another quested after food for me). The ironic part was that my brother told us there was an Umberto's of NHP right down the street - "somewheres." I wasn't too sure of his directions and so fearfully settled for the pizza I could see and get to easily.

And isn't that the way we conduct our spiritual quests sometimes? We seek the "real deal", an authentic ecstatic experience of the divine--in worship, in the Word, in nature, in contemplation and devotion. We've tried the rest--we want the best. And that leads to a restlessness--one that's a two-edged sword I think.

We seek perfection--which is commendable, but ultimately impossible amongst humans. We all fall short. This is especially irksome when we recall the experiences of our youth--the good old days (even if they were the eighties!), when we were in youth groups and confirmation classes just bursting at the seams! The fare these days might seem at little taste-less, a somehow less than copy of the perfect. And often we choose the more familiar, easier experience of God because we are fearful of the risk involved in seeking whole-heartedly.

So, what to draw from this pizza parable? First--that we should go for it, and seek God in the margins of our experience where he promised to be. Second - that there's still a lot to be said for the less-than-perfect, everyday experiences of the divine. Finding God in the mundane is really challenging, but extremely satisfying as well. I've had a lot of good pizza on my way to the perfect, and while they were not remarkable, they fed me, and I enjoyed them--right down to the toaster pizza I had in grade school!

So, as the purveyors of pizza say, "Mangia!" Come to the table and eat! Taste and see that the Lord is good, and his mercy endures forever. Case even if the pizza's run of the mill, there's alway the bagels. And don't get me started on knishes!

I gotta go--this made me hungry!

Pastor Tom

Missing You

Some people enjoy a little "alone time" away from their spouse. Not me. When I go away for Synod Council or a continuing ed event it's only because I'm engaged and busy that I'm not lonely. And when Lisa goes away (as she has this week) and I'm home alone--I can barely stand it. It's too quiet! There's no one to share the day with. Dinner doesn't taste as good, and there's something kind of sad about cooking for one.

Not that being single is somehow less than whole, or those who appreciate some marriage down time are weird. I'm just talking about me. And probably those who have lost a spouse. Although the two scenarios are far from analogous, I was thinking that being alone as I am this week must at least suggest what it's like being widowed. (Of course I know that my aloneness will end Friday, and that's a big , big difference.)

It's just a thought I had as I chewed on a pork chop tonight. Don't know why it came to me. But it makes me feel especially tender towards those who have lost a spouse. What can we do to support them? How can we ease a small bit of their aloneness? And the same likely holds true for divorced people--how can we help them?

In Genesis, God says, "It is not good for the man to be alone..." And he creates a counterpart and puts them in relationship. People are naturally social. They seek relationship with each other and with God. That's partly why we come together as the church, and it's partly the mission of the church to provide these relationships as well. So how do we do it--how do we connect people to the church in such a way that when they're apart from it, their hearts ache?

It's belonging. Belonging to, belonging with, you belong to me and I to you. Belonging. We need to feel like we belong to the church--it needs us, cherishes us, and misses us when we're not together. How does that happen?

One important way is through sharing. Sharing stories, sharing food, sharing gifts especially. We find a place to use our gifts and boom, we belong. Can you belong to a church and not share your talents in some way? Can you be married and not work at it? I rest my case. We need to explore ways that everyone--especially new members, can be connected in some way to a ministry that needs them and their gifts. Something they can belong to.

Well, this all started with me missing Lisa. But it's been an insight for me--into the lives of others, and into the ministry and mission of the church. So the time apart hasn't been all bad. But I'll be glad to welcome her home again.

Pastor Tom

A Good Marriage

I've been away a few days. We ventured down to Long Island NY, where I grew up, for a family wedding--my nephew and his fiancee pledged themselves to each other in a church ceremony at St. Patrick's (in Huntington, not NYC!) It was a big church, very echo-y, stained glass, candles burning in alcoves. It was nice and the wedding was beautiful.

The priest preached a short homily based on a passage from John. In it he said a good marriage is based on two things--faithfulness and forgiveness. Fidelity is always key to a marriage, and forgiveness is even more key. But it's not my nephew's marriage I was suddenly thinking of, there as we tried not to make our Lutheran presence known ungracefully by adding the end to the Lord's Prayer. It was Christ's marriage--to the church.

That's what a good marriage is patterned on, really--the spouse's love is symbolized by Christ's (the bridegroom's) love for the church (the bride). And I believe that the priest's analogy can pertain to us as the church as well.

We must be faithful as Christ is faithful. That includes things like faithful worship attendance (how would your spouse like it if you only had supper together one Sunday a month?), reading the Word prayerfully (again, what kind of marriage would it be if you never spoke to one another?), and stewardship of gifts (statistics show marriages are stronger if both partners speak openly about finances--Jesus does). Faithfulness as the church also means taking on the issues that make the first last, the poor rich, and the excluded included--tough work in this religious culture of "church lite."

And that's where forgiveness comes in. Forgiveness from our "spouse" Jesus when we fail to live up to our vows--our mission, our new life. And our own forgiveness of each other as we recognize that all fall short of God's glory. We are a much stronger marriage partner if we are unified in our acceptance and forgiveness of each other. Not that we allow people to run rough shod over us. But that we try hard (hard) to understand each other's unique life journey, and what causes them to err. That's called compassion, folks. You don't bite your hubby's head off if he comes home cranky from the office (and hubby doesn't stay cranky and apologizes). You feel for his day, cut him some slack, and wait for him to come to his senses. (Or work with him towards that end.) You forgive. Because you know you get cranky sometimes too.

A toast to my nephew and his bride. And a toast also to Christ and the church--may our life together be happy, faithful, and forgiving!

Pastor Tom