We Have a Lot of Work to Do

A rough manuscript of my sermon this Sunday on Luke 17: 11-19.

Sisters and brothers, we have a lot of work to do, that’s for sure. We have a lot of work to do. This past Friday evening, as I was waiting to board a plane home from a conference in Chicago, I felt sick to my stomach upon hearing the words of one of our presidential candidates objectifying women to an unspeakable degree, joking about sexual assault and bragging about how through wealth celebrity and power, he could easily get away with such behavior. My mind pretty quickly went especially to the women and girls of our congregation, about how such words must make you all feel, and also the fathers as well who’ll have to explain this stuff to their kids, to make sure their sons know that such talk is simply not okay. For putting you all in such a horrible position, for putting my own family and friends in such a horrible situation, I was absolutely furious with Donald Trump as I boarded that flight.

Through some really helpful conversations with the woman sitting next to me over the following couple hours, I was reminded that the horrible words on that tape reflect something much bigger than any one candidate or even the state of our politics as a whole. Indeed, no matter which candidate you decide to vote for (I’ve had conversations with great folks in our congregation on both sides of that debate, by the way), no matter which candidate you decide to vote for is less important than the much wider, insidious issue of collective sin at hand: the way our society treats women and girls. Or to put it in even a broader context, the issue of collective sin we must address is our society's seeming complete inability to listen to the concerns of one another, especially the concerns of populations who have historically been marginalized and oppressed. So yes, my sisters and brothers, we have a lot of work to do.

We have a lot of work to do. For you see, right here in America, statistically one in three women will be the victim of some form of sexual violence in their lifetime. Right now, in what we consider the greatest country in the world, one in five women have survived an attempted or completed rape. On our college campuses that number narrows to something closer to one in four. One in three women have been victims of some form of physical violence inflicted by an intimate partner in their lifetime and boys who witness their fathers being violent are ten times more likely to abuse their spouses later in life. The way we treat women and girls in our society is an insidious type of collective sin, to be sure, and it’s the type of collective sin that affects each and every single one of us.

When I think about my own life experiences as a young adult, and particularly my time as a college student, the words used by Mr. Trump are more extreme than most, but they honestly don’t surprise me. I lived for three years in a fraternity house and horrible jokes were made on a regular basis. Women were objectified on a regular basis. And because I had a natural aversion to being politically correct as a young, dumb kid and I’ve always liked being the center of attention, I was definitely a major player in all that dumb talk and I was wrong. And my fraternity brothers and I were known as some of the better guys on campus, right, who may have said dumb things but always treated women with respect. Yet, words do matter… how did our jokes make the vast majority of women of hadn’t been treated with respect sometime in their life feel? Moving right up to the present, how did years of seemingly innocent locker room talk change our perspectives in sinful, insidious, ways? Thanks be for Christ, because the work of reconciliation, the work of always trying to improve how us men hear and honor the perspectives of women will never end. Even though that was all close to a decade ago now, I hear from folks younger than me that things have gotten even worse on our college campuses as well. In short, my sisters and brothers, we have a lot of work to.

Yes, we have a lot of work to do, but luckily, as our gospel message teaches us this Sunday, Christ is there at work with us, present in every part of our lives and the life of our community. Even more amazing is the good news that God most often speaks from the perspective of those we least expect Her to be speaking from. Just look at today’s gospel message… it’s a simple yet profound story. Jesus is traveling through the borderlands between Samaria and the Galilee in route to Jerusalem, when he stops in a small village. Ten folks are suffering from leprosy there, a disease that still afflicts thousands in many parts of the world. And well, our God in Christ does what God does best. Jesus sends the lepers off to the priests and amazingly, all are healed! All are washed clean, liberated from their disease by Christ’s love! Yet even then, it’s only of ten lepers who turns back… it’s only one of the ten who recognizes what God’s up to, and it’s the one people of Jesus’ time would have least expected to know much about God at all… a Samaritan, a despised foreigner! And this, my sisters and brothers, is the incredibly good news that confronts us today. God more often than not speaks to us from the people we’d least expect, the Samaritans of our day, the people we're taught to think don’t matter, the people we're taught by our society to ignore. We have a lot of work to do, but luckily, Christ comes to us in the faces of people we’d least expect to make that work possible.

We have a lot of work to do. How can we listen to those voices as we build and strengthen a community that teaches its children that all women and girls, and all people of color and all folks in the LGBT community and all people of different abilities, need to be cherished, loved and affirmed as children of God? I just heard a story from one parishioner this morning talking about how she’s gotten in trouble at work for begin absent to take care of her sick children. How can we help build a local community where the contributions of mothers and fathers are valued, where parents don’t need to decide between their families and their careers? How can we build a community where our boys grow up knowing that objectification of women and abuse of women and sexual assault of women or anyone else for that matter is not okay? In a few minutes Jim Miller will be talking about one of our congregation’s priorities for the year ahead, to build a spirit of brotherhood and service amongst the men of our congregation. How can we include all those fathers in this important work that God calls us to embark upon? Perhaps all won’t want to show up at a church on Sunday morning, but how else can they contribute to the amazing things God is making happen here? How can we hear from their perspectives?

Sisters and brothers, this has been a hard weekend for our nation, indeed for our wider society. We have a lot of work to do. And thank you all for the work you already do, by the way. Whether you’re filling in this Sunday for our church musician so he can spend time with his family or if your acolyte for the first time or helping to balance our budget or walking with me on Tuesday for equitable funding for our schools, you are part of God’s work here, to build a community where all voices our welcome, all voices are cherished. And thanks be to God for the fact that She especially likes to show up in the very voices and places we’d least expect her to. Thanks be to God for Her promise to show up in our own lives in the times we need it the most, in those hardest and least expected of times. Our God in Christ has promised to show up, to make things happen, to bring us joy, to stand with us in solidarity against the worst of human sin, to bear us in the hard work of preaching the good news of liberation and reconciliation to our community. And thanks be to God for that.

Dustin serves as pastor at Messiah Lutheran Church, a Spirit filled church following Jesus Christ in Schenectady, New York. An evangelist, urban gardener, mountain climber, community organizer, saint and sinner, he spends most of his professional time wrestling with God and proclaiming liberation in Christ. Otherwise, Dustin likes hiking, playing frisbee, hanging out with his amazing pup Willy Bear and pretending to know how to sing.

Turn Towards Hope

Hi all,

What follows is the text of a sermon I preached earlier this morning at Messiah Lutheran Church in Schenectady, New York where I'm incredibly blessed to serve as pastor. It was my best attempt to proclaim a message of hope as we begin the season of Advent while focusing on the first reading for this Sunday, Jeremiah 33: 14 - 16. Please, let me know what you think!

God's peace,

Dustin

Sisters and brothers,

It’s so heartening for me to be back with you, despite having had an awesome week away visiting loved ones and hiking in all sorts of beautiful places with Willy Bear all around New England. It was a great week for sure, filled with some much needed rest time, hours spent reading and reflecting about the past year and of course multiple courses of eating way too much turkey. That all said, both the best and most thought provoking parts of my week were the conversations I had with folks of a wide variety ages and backgrounds. I was blessed with the opportunity to hear what was going on in the life of my beloved Grandma Tinie for instance, who still cooked the most delicious Thanksgiving meal despite being in her late eighties. I also learned about the joys and challenges a close childhood friend of mine is facing as her and her husband begin their careers with a second child on the way. It was fantastic to talk with a high school student about how things were going with the hometown cross country team in my hometown of Manchester, Connecticut before the annual Thanksgiving Day Road Race. Now to the best of my understanding, there seemed to be one common thread though that bubbled up in a nearly all these conversations no matter what else was being talked about, a common thread that really informs what I’d like to speak to today… given everything going on in the world over especially the past year, wow, there is a huge amount of fear in our society, and worse yet, there is even more apathy about the possibility of things improving. There is a great amount of fear in our society, and worse yet, there is even more apathy about the possibility of things improving.

The reasons for this collective sense of fear and apathy are both incredibly complicated yet probably quite familiar to most of you. First of all, on a societal level, change, even when it’s mostly positive change, creates uncertainty, which in turns often instigates us to react in fear. And while it’s been increasingly a trend for a while now, over the past year especially we’ve heard stories about “the rise of the millennial generation,” folks roughly my age and bit younger, who as we’re at least often characterized have radically different views than the last few few generations of Americans. We’re increasingly interconnected on our iPhones, we greatly value racial and ethnic diversity, and comfortable with what some would consider nontraditional family structures, whether it be championing marriage equality, choosing to live with a partner before marriage or putting off having children until later in life. We also aren’t typically as interested in organized religion, although we are just about as spiritual as any other generation. While in my opinion most of these trends are quite positive and have been in the works for the at least the last fifty years anyway, the fact that we’re rapidly moving away from a “Leave It to Beaver” sort of society is understandably scary for many individuals.

On top of a rapidly changing society, we’ve been absolutely inundated over the past year with all sorts of horrific headlines that tend to breed nothing but fear and apathy… folks twisting the beautiful teachings of Islam into something that leads to beheadings and civil war and the despicable terrorist attacks in Paris and Beirut a couple weeks ago. Every week it seems we hear news of another mass shooting, most recently this past Friday outside a women’s health clinic in Colorado. Affirming that black lives matter while also supporting the women and men who have sworn to keep us safe is a near daily task. With NATO allied Turkey shooting down a Russian fighter jet on Turkish/ Syrian border this past week, international tensions in some ways haven’t been this high since the end of the Cold War. And not to mention of course all the difficulties going on in our own lives… from talking to many of you privately in the week before I left for vacation, wow, there is a lot of tough stuff going on for many of us hear at Messiah… all sorts of things that might make us fearful, or lead us to apathetically believe things will never improve.

Today however my sisters and brothers, during the shortest days of the year, the prophet Jeremiah has a word for us that is not just of incredible, but in fact is audaciously good news amidst all that darkness, fear and apathy, as we begin a new church year and liturgical season this first Sunday of Advent… a message quite simply, of hope. I’ll read some of Jeremiah’s words for us again… The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will fulfill the promise I made to the house of Israel and the house of Judah. In those days and at that time I will cause a righteous Branch to spring up for David; and he shall execute justice and righteousness in the land. You see, Jeremiah wrote in some truly horrific times… right in the middle of the Siege of Jerusalem between 589-587 BCE by the forces of Nebuchadnezzar II. The elites of the city were being carted off to exile in Babylon, the city itself was burned and most importantly, the First Temple, the dwelling place of God on Earth was completely destroyed. I can’t stress more highly how this was a truly world shattering event for Jeremiah and his peers… to the point that most of Hebrew Bible we know today was compiled shortly thereafter in an attempt to figure out what to do next. Despite the horrors surrounding him, Jeremiah proclaims “the days are surely coming” where justice and righteousness will once again reign in the land. In other words, Jeremiah proclaimed a message of hope in the darkest, scariest, most apathetic of times… not just incredible but in fact audaciously good news that deeply reflects the sense of hope that our God calls us towards in Christ.

So, what can we learn from Jeremiah’s message as we begin this Advent amidst the darkest season of the year, amidst of overwhelming sense of apathy and fear? Quite simply, turn away from such things towards hope. In the end, that’s what Jesus is all about, the only reason Jesus needed to be born at all, to turn us towards hope. Turn towards hope in Christ, and proclaim that message to everyone you know through word and deed, that in the end, the powers of darkness, and fear and apathy can never win next to the power of God’s love. Now what does an abstract phrase like “turn towards hope” mean for us practically in this time, this place, in twenty-first century Rotterdam? I have three distinct suggestions amongst many other possibilities. First, let us consider what and who we want to stand for as Christians. A couple weeks back, you might have heard the silliness coming out of some Christian quarters complaining about what those red holiday Starbucks cups look like… they no longer had a Santa or nativity or whatever other Christmas scene whatever… is that what’s truly important? Red coffee cups? Is that what it means to be Christian? Or can we radically take up the Biblical call to welcome in the stranger, the alien, the migrant and stand up for those well mean Syrian families seeking asylum in our country as refugees. What’s more important? Being fearful about our seemingly less Christian culture and complaining about red coffee cups or turning towards the hope that we can make the lives of a small number of Syrian refugees just a bit easier.

Second, do we want focus on our fears about the changing values of our young people? Only a couple weeks back I heard an ELCA Lutheran pastor referred to millennials as a “heathen generation,” I kid you not. Really? Or should turn towards hope in Christ? For example, did you know for the past few years, on the first day of every month thousands of young Lutherans around the world fast have fasted for justice ahead of a major climate change conference that will begin tomorrow in Paris? Lutheran young people are putting their into action all around the world and advocating that our leaders finally take action on what may be the defining issue of our time, and it’s acceptable to call us a heathen generation? Rather than reacting out of fear about changing and perhaps improving values, we can turn towards hope in Christ.

Finally, on a more personal and less global scale, should we continue to apathetically focus on old divisions and arguments with friends, family and members of our congregation, especially during this stressful time of the year or can we turns towards hope in Christ that reconciliation is possible? Can we turn towards hope in Christ that we can move forward together into a bright future as closely knit families, communities and as a congregation? Quite simply my sisters and brothers, through Jeremiah’s proclamation of the good news amidst the darkest of times over 2500 years ago, and through Christ coming into the world and triumphing over the worst of human sin a few hundred years later, we can turn away from all the darkness and fear and apathy towards hope. In the end, that’s what Jesus is all about, the only reason Jesus needed to be born at all, to turn us towards hope. Turn towards hope in Christ, and proclaim that message to everyone you know through word and deed, that in the end, the powers of darkness, and fear and apathy can never win next to the power of God’s love. Amen.

Dustin serves as pastor at Messiah Lutheran Church, a Spirit-filled church following Jesus Christ in Rotterdam, New York. An evangelist, urban gardener, mountain climber, community organizer, saint and sinner, he spends most of his professional time wrestling with God and proclaiming liberation in Christ. Otherwise, Dustin likes hiking, playing frisbee, hanging out with his amazing pup Willy Bear and pretending to know how to sing.

Bread for the World Sunday Sermon: The Power of Liberating Love

Hi everyone,

What follows is the draft of a sermon I'll be preaching tomorrow at Saint Michael's Lutheran Church in Germantown on the Gospel according to Saint Luke 18: 1 - 8. The sermon is a part of an ongoing advocacy effort to celebrate Bread for the World Sunday. I'd love to hear what you think!

God's peace,
Dustin

Ya know, today’s message from the Gospel of Saint Luke is one of my absolutely favorite parables. There’s a bunch of good messages here for sure about prayer, persistence, and even gender equality, but the reason I particularly love this parable is because of what it says about justice. A widow, a person frequently near the bottom of the social ladder during the time the gospels were being written, keeps coming back to a cruel judge, begging him for justice over her opponent. And lets just stress here... this is not a Judge Judy sort of situation... the widow does not have any ordinary opponent... the word we translate as “opponent” in the original Greek means someone who keeps coming back to accuse you, to persecute you, again and again. In other words, this widow was in a state of constant oppression, but through her own persistence in prayer and action, she eventually convinces a judge to rule in her favor simply because she wears him down... he doesn’t want to be embarrassed by her any longer. My brothers and sisters, this parable proclaims to us across the millennia that despite human sin, that despite the very real evil that persists in ourselves and our society no matter how we try to change or deny it, that at least some of the time, justice can prevail. Yes, at least in some situations, with God’s help, justice can prevail... problems can be solved.

This parable teaches us something deeper about justice too, especially as it relates to our topic of advocating against hunger, if we take a closer look at the character of the judge. Although our hearts initially go out to the widow (with good reason), the judge is actually in just as bad of shape. He actually says to himself, “I do not care about God and I have no respect for people.” I do not care about God and I have no respect for people... wow. Can you even imagine being in that bad of a situation, where you openly admit to yourself that you don’t care about God AND the folks around you? That’s got to be a deep, dark, lonely place... the sort of place that’s pretty hard to get out of. Perhaps some of us here today can in fact recall such a situation, where either crushed under the weight of addiction, or broken relationships, or disease or loneliness or any other sort of evil that might oppress us, we had to recognize that we had become so entirely disconnected from our God and our fellow human beings that we simply didn’t care.

I myself haven’t been in quite that difficult of a spot, but I’ve been close, and that was especially the case while living in Washington, DC. I moved there right after high school to study political science at the George Washington University because I wanted to change things. I was a pretty progressive teenager, and I wanted to change things... I wanted to make the world a better place, and I thought Washington was just where I could do it! I eventually realized though that change wasn’t so easy. By no means do I think this happens to everyone, there’s still a lot of great folks there, but I eventually realized that I was stuck in a pattern that’s fairly common in Washington. Much like me, a lot of folks move there thinking they want to change the world. Soon though they see that in order to change the world, they have to attain a certain level of power. Whether by climbing social ladders or compromising their values or greatly overworking or building their resume in a cut-throat sort of way, folks in Washington can often lose sight of their original goals. Life for them, as it was for me, no longer is about changing the world... it simply becomes about attaining more power. And on that brutal quest for power, relationships with other people are inevitably lost and one’s connection with God feels broken. In other words, life in Washington easily begins to lack the liberating power of love. I believe God worked pretty darn hard to free me from that sort of life... I recognized I needed to leave Washington, at least for a while, and I’m much happier today for it, but unfortunately, many of our leaders there are still stuck in lives that seem to lack the liberating power of love.

And that my sisters and brothers is what we’ve seen recently in Washington, and what we see in the character of the unjust judge. We see the work of lives lacking love. We see the work of folks whose lives lack the liberating power of love, who have become so disconnected that they can’t see the suffering and injustice all around them. They can’t see the true problems in our nation and our world, nor can they ever dream how it can be better. As we discussed a couple weeks ago, we know that one in six Americans currently face hunger in some form, and that in the city of Philadelphia, the number goes up to one in four. One in six Americans face some form of hunger and one in four folks in this city of brotherly love face some form of hunger. Yet we also know that it doesn’t need to be this way, and that it hasn’t always been this way. Under Richard Nixon, not someone exactly known for being a liberal softy, hunger as an systematic problem was pretty much eliminated for a time in America through the increased use of food stamps, now referred to as the SNAP program. Just listen to what President Nixon said to Congress back in 1969:

More is at stake here than the health and well-being of 16 million American citizens who will be aided by these programs and the current Child Food Assistance programs. Something very like the honor of American democracy is at issue. It was half a century ago that the "fruitful plains" of this bounteous land were first called on to a great work of humanity, that of feeding a Europe exhausted and bleeding from the First World War. Since then on one occasion after another, in a succession of acts of true generosity--let those who doubt that find their counterpart in history--America has come to the aid of one starving people after another. But the moment is at hand to put an end to hunger in America itself. For all time. I ask this of a Congress that has already splendidly demonstrated its own disposition to act. It is a moment to act with vigor; it is a moment to be recalled with pride.

According to President Nixon, the very honor of American democracy was at issue... there could no longer be excuses for allowing hunger to exist in our great nation, and thus, for a time, the systematic problem of chronic hunger was eliminated. Unfortunately, under presidents of both major political parties, under President Reagan and President Clinton, food stamps and other programs were scaled back. And thus we’ve ended up in the dire situation we find ourselves in today.

My sisters and brothers, hunger does not exist in America because of one political party or the other... both parties have worked to eliminate hunger, and both parties have set us back at times. The case is similar on the international level. The Millennium Development Goals were originally signed onto by the Clinton administration, and due to increased foreign aid under the Bush administration, we’ve nearly cut to global hunger rate in half over the last two decades to what is now around 14 percent. Hunger does not exist because of one political party or the other and hunger does not exist because we lack the resources to alleviate it. The main reason the scourge of hunger still exists in our time is because, much like the situation of the judge in today’s parable, the lives of many of our political leaders lack the liberating power of love. Thus, today’s parable teaches us that in order to move towards justice, in order to solve problems that are indeed solvable, much like the widow, we should persistently pray, preach and proclaim the power of liberating love that we know through Christ to those leaders who most desperately need to hear it. So following the close of today’s worship service, I invite you to do just that. As we celebrate Bread for the World Sunday, we got all the materials you need to tell President Obama and the folks in Congress that we can and need to end hunger and to remind them about the liberating power of love that we know through Christ. You can either write a letter, record a short YouTube video, or sign a petition.

Amidst the hardest days of the civil rights movement, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. once preached,

To our most bitter opponents we say: ...One day we shall win freedom, but not only for ourselves. We shall so appeal to your heart and conscience that we shall win you in the process, and our victory will be a double victory. Love is the most durable power in the world. This creative force, so beautifully exemplified in the life of our Christ, is the most potent instrument available in [human]kind’s quest for peace...

Love, my sisters and brothers, is the most potent instrument available in our quest for peace, love is the most potent instrument available in our quest for justice, love is the most potent instrument available in our collective quest for freedom. When our Christ rose from that most gruesome of deaths two millennia ago, He proclaimed to the whole world, including us in this time, in this place, in this city that even the worst of human evil, the actual killing of God, is absolutely nothing next to the power of love. God’s act of love in our Christ empowers us. God’s act of love in our Christ frees us. God’s act of love in our Christ liberates us from whatever or whoever may oppress us. And when we are wrapped up in the arms of God’s liberating love in Christ, we can’t help but share the good news of that love with others. Amen.

Dustin is currently in his final year of a Masters of Divinity program at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia, having recently completed a year as Vicar at the Lutheran Office for World Community and Saint Peter's Church in New York City. While seeking ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, his focus is on the intersection between worship, service and justice in de-centralized faith communities unencumbered by a traditional church building. In his free time, Dustin likes playing frisbee, hiking and pretending to know how to sing.

At an Unexpected Hour (preaching video)

What follows is video of the final sermon preached at Saint Peter's Church where I spent the past year serving as Vicar. Primarily on the appointed lectionary Gospel message for the day, Saint Luke 12: 32 - 40, the sermon also reflects thinking I've been doing after reading an article from the The Atlantic entitled "The Rise of the Christian Left in America." The camera's stayed on following the end of the sermon, so you can watch the Intercessory Prayers we do at the weekly Healing Vespers as well.

God's peace,
Dustin


Dustin is currently in his final year of a Masters of Divinity program at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia, having recently completed a year as Vicar at the Lutheran Office for World Community and Saint Peter's Church in New York City. While seeking ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, his focus is on the intersection between worship, service and justice in de-centralized faith communities unencumbered by a traditional church building. In his free time, Dustin likes playing frisbee, hiking and pretending to know how to sing.

At an Unexpected Hour

What follows is the final sermon preached at Saint Peter's Church where I spent the past year serving as Vicar. Primarily on the appointed lectionary Gospel message for the day, Saint Luke 12: 32 - 40, the sermon also reflects some thinking I've been doing after reading an article from the The Atlantic entitled "The Rise of the Christian Left in America." I'd love to hear what you think.

So I’ve been struggling greatly this week folks... I’ve been struggling for one because this is my last day with you all at Saint Peter’s. It’s certainly been a heck of year and we’ve gone through a lot together... we’ve gone through tragedies like Superstorm Sandy, a horrific school shooting in Connecticut and the Boston marathon bombing. On a parish level, we’ve gone through difficult financial decisions, the hard work of creating a new mission statement and the beginnings of a new covenant relationship with Sion Luterana Iglesia. We’ve also experienced great joys together... the Supreme Court affirming marriage equality, a historic presidential election where women and minorities rocked the vote like never before, the election of Pope Francis and subsequent new hopes for reform... wow, what a year. We’ve been through a lot together, and I’ve really been struggling with having to say goodbye.

I’ve also been struggling with what to say to y’all tonight. I mean, at the end of such an amazing year living and working amongst the faithful community of folks at Saint Peter’s, you’ve all sort of left me speechless, in the best possible way. What could I say to a vibrant, Spirit filled community that could possibly inspire such an already truly inspirational group of people? What I finally realized at around three this morning is that all I could really do is provide you with a simple observation about the situation find ourselves in, in this time, in this place, in this city. All I can do is briefly lay out what in my humble opinion is really going on.

Simply put, we live in the most unexpected of hours my sisters and brothers, and you as the people of Saint Peter’s have your lamps lit strong and bright. We live in the most unexpected of hours, and you as the people of Saint Peter’s have your lamps lit strong and bright. So, you might wonder what I mean by living in the most unexpected of hours? Well, as one of the more social justice oriented “mainline” Christian traditions, us Lutherans along with Methodists, Presbyterians, Episcopals and the like have presided over a near half-century of declining membership in America. And actually, after decades of strong growth, our more conservative “Evangelical” sisters and brothers in Christ are beginning to experience decline as well. While it may not be a major conversation in day to day life, it does seem as a sort of given in our contemporary Western culture that the Church, and organized faith communities in general, are decreasing.  Many Christians fear that we’ve entered and will continue to live in a secular, even atheistic age.

Yet, as Jesus promises to us in today’s Gospel message, the Son of Man comes at an unexpected hour... and in the face of such adversity, in face of such fearful decline, I humbly observe that we are just now beginning see the first glimmerings of such an unexpected coming. Ya know, only a year and a half ago, a sitting President of the United States specifically cited his Christian faith as a reason for supporting marriage equality, something that would have been unthinkable even a decade earlier. In recent months, churches throughout the United States, including many Evangelical groups, have boldly supported comprehensive immigration reform that is in the best tradition of Christian welcome. We now have a pope who has washed the feet of a Muslim girl, who has thrown off the shackles of opulence by declining to live in the Apostolic Palace and most recently exclaimed that he had no authority to judge folks of different sexual orientations. My sisters and brothers, the glimmerings of Christ coming, as He always has, at the most unexpected of hours and reforming His Church into a more compassionate body that stands up for the full humanity of all God’s children are clearly visible, and that is profoundly good news.

And, in the face of such glimmerings, in the face of the Son of Man coming at the most unexpected of hours, you as the people of Saint Peter’s have your lamps lit strong and bright. Just look at all the exciting things that have happened here in the last year... despite continued decline across the synod, stewardship and membership here has grown. More importantly, at a time when most Lutheran churches still can’t figure out how to live as multi-cultural communities, Saint Peter’s is doing it, both through its new covenant relationship with Sion and its longstanding diverse membership.  Saint Peter’s has also strengthened how its acts as a resource for the local community, greatly supporting the arts, a senior center, AA groups and the Momentum project as it has for years. And just this year, Saint Peter’s embarked on a new ministry of boldly standing up against oppression and accompanying our immigrant community as it advocates for comprehensive immigration reform. There are of course challenges ahead, and new opportunities, especially for evangelism and outreach should be explored, but wow... As Christ comes to revive His Church at the most unexpected of hours, the people of Saint Peter’s have their lamps lit strong and bright, ready to respond.

And folks, despite the amazing place we find ourselves in as a community of faith, responding to the work of Christ at the most unexpected of hours, that’s not even the best part! The truly Good News is that the heart of the matter isn’t even how our lamps our lit, bright and strong as they be... the truly Good News is that not only is Christ coming at the most unexpected of hours, but that He promises to continue joining us again, and again, and again no matter what sort of long, oppressive night we find ourselves in. If you look at today’s Gospel message again my sisters and brothers, we’re not encourage to light our lamps and get dressed in order to prepare for battle... no! It’s not about what we’re doing at all... we’re supposed to prepare for a party, for a most bountiful of banquets, where God turns the expected order of the universe on its head and serves all Her children... feeding us and in fact freeing us from whatever may seek to oppress us, through the work of Her liberating love in Christ. Amen.

God's peace,

Dustin

Dustin currently is currently in his final year of a Masters of Divinity program at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia. While seeking ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, his focus is on the intersection between worship, service and justice in de-centralized faith communities unencumbered by a traditional church building. In his free time, Dustin likes playing frisbee, hiking and pretending to know how to sing.

Preaching Video: Trayvon, Malala and the Good Samaritan

What follows is video from me preaching on Sunday, 14 July following the acquittal of George Zimmerman on the gospel reading for the day, Saint Luke10: 25 - 37. I'd love to hear what you think.

Dustin currently serves as Vicar at the Lutheran Office for World Community and Saint Peter's Church in Manhattan, having recently completed his second year of a Masters of Divinity program at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia. While seeking ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, his focus is on the intersection between worship, service and justice in de-centralized faith communities unencumbered by a traditional church building. In his free time, Dustin likes playing frisbee, hiking and pretending to know how to sing.

Ordinary Time 16C Sermon: Chillaxing in Community

What follows is a draft of the sermon I preached this Sunday at Saint Peter's Church for Jazz Vespers.  It's primarily on Genesis 18: 1 - 10 and Saint Luke 10: 38 - 42, two of the appointed lectionary readings for the day.

So I have a confession for all of you… for much of my life, I wasn’t a big fan of going to church… I really disliked it actually, because I thought it was a waste of time. It wasn’t that I didn’t love Jesus, or faith or Christian community or anything like that… I’ve pretty much always really dug those things and have found them immensely meaningful in my life. But the specific act of what many call worship, the roughly hour and a half of sitting and standing in the pews, the singing, praying, listening to typically boring folks like me talk for typically way too long up front Sunday after Sunday about archaic things I couldn’t care less about… I never really got the point of it. And furthermore, as someone that’s always been really into the service and social justice side of faith… feeding the hungry, accompanying people living under the oppression of poverty in their long walk to freedom, organizing the community against all manner of social ills, I definitely thought the immense time and resources spent by most Christian communities on the act of worship was simply a distraction from what was truly important. And while my thinking on such matters admittedly started shifting after I entered seminary, even last year you’d have typically found me sending out emails about an initiative to make campus more environmentally friendly and or supporting the local Occupy movement rather than attending daily chapel services. Even once I starting getting a vague notion of its importance, I still didn’t think I had time for worship, or to put it slightly more colorfully, I didn’t think I had time to “chillax” with God and by doing so “chillax” with my sisters and brothers in Christian community.

To chillax… it’s a “word” I think I first heard sometime in high school and have occasionally used ever since when attempting to sound hip around folks a bit older than me or when vainly trying to impress a girl or the like. It occurred to me this week though that such a word could be repurposed for the far more noble use of summarizing both the importance of worship I have learned this year from all of you at Saint Peter’s and the immensely good news that is at the heart of today’s gospel message. For combining the two verbs ‘to relax’ and ‘to chill’ into ‘to chillax’ really ends up making for a profound concept. It means not only to take a pause, to take a breath in the midst of the chaos that surrounds you, but to do so not for your own sake, nor under your own initiative. Instead, chillaxing is solely done for the sake of the other and solely as a work of God. You see, when chillaxing a pause is made, a breathe is taken, a separate space is created away from one’s own life in order to see another being for who she or he is truly is, to listen carefully to that being, and in fact to share in the realization of a sacred moment with another broken yet beautiful child of God. To chillax… it’s what worship and what today’s readings are all about… and the simple reminder to chillax, the simple invitation that we can’t help but say yes to, that simple invitation my sisters and brothers is immensely good news.

Let’s look at our first reading today from Genesis… God shows up at Abraham’s tent in presence of three men, perhaps in what Christians would later call the Trinity, in the middle of a hot summer day at Mamre, in a place that would later become one of the three most important and busiest marketplaces in ancient Israel. Despite the sweltering heat, Abraham is invited by God to take some time along with his wife Sarah to first recognize the physical needs of his three visitors by providing them with water. A sumptuous meal is then prepared and a holy moment is shared under the shade of a tree while the meal is enjoyed. In other words, Abraham chillaxes with God and then Abraham and Sarah receive the immensely good news that God will soon return to them in this face of a newborn child.

Today’s gospel story from Saint Luke also puts forward a powerful of message about chillaxing with God and with one another, and this time without the inherent patriarchy of the Genesis passage. The story takes place immediately after the Good Samaritan story we heard last Sunday... Jesus shows up at Martha and Mary’s house, and much like with Abraham and Sarah, He does so to invite them into a holy moment over a meal. In other words, Jesus shows up to chillax. Martha welcomes Jesus into her home, and gets to work busily preparing a meal. Mary on the other hand, defies the gender norms of her day by sitting as a disciple at Jesus’ feet, listening to him. Martha in turn reasonably gets pretty upset that she has to do all the work. Lovingly, Jesus proclaims back to her, and to us in this time, in this place, in this exceptionally busy of cities, the immensely good news that at the heart of the matter it’s not about what Martha, or what Mary or what you or me, or any of us are really doing at all… Rather, it’s about the most amazing act of liberating love God is working in Christ.

For you see, what I’ve certainly come to learn this year from all of you, is that when we gather around this table, and when we chillax with beautiful Spirit-filled jazz and join in mutual conversation, a most divinely holy moment, and most profound space of liberating love occurs. A space where folks who live on the streets and folks who can afford plane tickets to fly in from all over the world gather together and mutually recognize each other as broken yet beautiful children of God (and thus learn from each other) is created in Christ. And in such a space, supported by each other, we can’t help but cast ourselves into the arms of a God who is lovingly aching to share Her presence with us. God chillaxes with us, welcomes us, gathers us up in loving arms into community with Herself and one another and thereby strengthens us to go out and proclaim Her message of liberating love to a city and world profoundly hungry for the gospel. And this sisters and brothers, is profoundly good news. Amen.


Dustin currently serves as Vicar at the Lutheran Office for World Community and Saint Peter's Church in Manhattan, having recently completed his second year of a Masters of Divinity program at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia. While seeking ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, his focus is on the intersection between worship, service and justice in de-centralized faith communities unencumbered by a traditional church building. In his free time, Dustin likes playing frisbee, hiking and pretending to know how to sing.

Trayvon, Malala, the Good Samaritan and Christ's Message of Liberating Love

So after hearing the news of George Zimmerman's acquittal last night, I realized I needed to write a whole new sermon for this evening at Saint Peter's where I'm serving for a few more weeks as Vicar... What follows is what I came up with, based on the gospel reading for the day, Saint Luke 10: 25 - 37.  I'd love to hear what you think!

It’s been an odd sort of week in the life in our nation … As many of us returned from a long holiday celebrating our freedom with friends and family, we also returned to an odd sort of news environment… comprehensive immigration reform maybe happening, maybe not… all the CIA leak and NSA spying stuff… Congress failing to do anything about student loan interest rates rising, a farm bill that leaves out funding for food stamps… geesh. It’s been an odd sort of week, and of course, it was capped off by the truly disappointing, saddening and even outraging news last night that the friends and family of Trayvon Martin will not be able to rest at least a little easier anytime soon. No, my sisters and brothers, Trayvon’s parents Tracy and Sybrina did not lay down to sleep in the reassuring arms of justice last night. And people of color throughout this nation went to bed not only knowing that the simple act of going out to get a snack could get one killed, but furthermore that such a murder may go unpunished. And we all sought sleep last night racked by the painful reminder that the long held burden of racial fear and hatred still weighs heavily upon this country, and that at least for now, that burden ain’t getting any lighter. My sisters and brother, these sorrows must be voiced. These sorrows must be mourned. And these sorrows must be changed. And may we all do the difficult work of keeping everyone affected in our prayers, including those holding different views from our own and even Trayvon’s killer himself.

Through the uncertainty and sadness of the news this past week though, there was at least one shining ray of light as well. Perhaps amidst all the trial coverage you were able to pick up on it… This past Friday morning, a young, now sixteen year old woman named Malala Yousafzai stepped up to the podium at the United Nations and gave a rousing, defiant address, speaking truth to power that all women and children, that all people in fact, have a basic right to education. In a world where nearly sixty million children still do not attend primary school, many of whom disproportionately are girls, Malala’s message is not only direly needed, but delivered with great risk. For you see, in her home area of the Swat Valley in Pakistan this past October, Malala was shot in the head at point blank range by the Taliban on her way to school for boldly proclaiming the prophetic message that all girls deserve an education. They shot Malala’s friends too. And while the Taliban failed to silence Malala this past October, they have vowed to try again.

So, you may be wondering what all of this has to do with today’s Gospel story… with the well-known but often misunderstood story of the Good Samaritan. Well, especially since Malala specifically cites not only the Prophet of her own faith, Muhammad, but Jesus Christ as well as a source of inspiration, I imagine she’s certainly heard this parable before and taken its true message to heart. For while Malala’s speech this past Friday was about education for all, it wasn’t about education for the sake of winning, for the sake of getting ahead or individually climbing a social ladder. No, Malala instead put forward a collective vision of society. She said, “We cannot all succeed when half of us are held back.” And she prophetically proclaimed, “Our words can change the whole world, because we are united together for the cause of education.” And it is the quite similar collective vision, a vision of liberating love in community with God and community with each other, which Jesus puts forward in his story of the Good Samaritan.

All too often this parable is misunderstood and mis-preached. All too often the final line of “Go and do likewise” is taken as the central thesis of the story, rather than only a necessary consequence of it true message… Let me repeat that… “Go and do likewise” is taken as the central thesis of the story, rather than only a necessary consequence of its true message. Go and do likewise is taken to mean go out and be perfect… go out and be nice and polite, follow the rules, and whether its explicitly stated or not, go out and show the world and show God how great and pious and holy you are! You doing great champ, just keep on doing what you’re doing and you’ll end up on top! Now, such a message might sound nice at first, but all too quickly such hyper-individualistic notions only lead to one of two possible outcomes… First, we might end up living a life of hate, a life of hate that in its extreme form sounds something like, “Wow, I’m so good and so pious that I can take the law into my own hands. Look at me, look at me, I’m gonna save the day… I can stalk folks I deem dangerous, and if something goes wrong, no matter, I’m strapped and the law is on my side so I’ll just stand my ground.” The other possibility is that such hyper-individualism leads us to a life of fear, that in its extreme form sounds something like, “There are only winners and losers in this world, so I better make sure folks that look like me and act like me end up winning. I just gotta take and take as much of this world’s limited resources as I can to protect myself, my friends and my family… and well, everyone else will just need to fend for themselves... to hell with em!”

My sisters and brothers, the lawyer that tests Jesus in today’s Gospel story was plagued by just such a sense of hyper-individualism. The lawyer exclaims, “What must I do? What must I do? May I further clarify rabbi, in order to justify myself?” And the way Jesus responds, is absolutely brilliant… Jesus says to the elite young man, bro, you aren’t even asking the right question. Stop worrying, just for a second, about who you’re suppose to serve and think about who’s acting like a neighbor to you… check your ego at the door because the fact is that you need some help too… because despite the fact that it seems like you’re in charge, you can’t do it on your own no matter how hard you try! The lawyer, the priest and the Levite… the “winners” in today’s gospel story, would likely do quite well in today’s society… a society that through the politics of racism, and sexism, and classism and a wide variety of “isms” preaches a message to fear folks that are different, because they’re only going to take what’s yours… and a society that preaches hate folks that are different, because they’re nothing next to your perfect, high-achieving, polished self.

My sisters and brother, in today’s Gospel story Jesus presents the elite lawyer and in fact all of us in this time, in this place, in this city with the difficult but profoundly good news that its not about what you, or me, or any other person for that matter is doing at all… it’s about God’s act of liberating love in Christ. For despite the powers hate and fear’s best attempts to kill Christ’s message of liberating love, a message much like Malala’s that no matter how hard we try, we cannot do it on our own, Christ rose. Yes, Christ lives… Christ lives in this time, in this place, in this city, freeing us from all the varied forms of hate and fear, freeing us from our very selves, freeing us from whatever may oppress us into the hope of restored community, into the hope in a beautifully interwoven tapestry of mutuality with God and with one another. Amen. 

Dustin currently serves as Vicar at the Lutheran Office for World Community and Saint Peter's Church in Manhattan, having recently completed his second year of a Masters of Divinity program at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia. While seeking ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, his focus is on the intersection between worship, service and justice in de-centralized faith communities unencumbered by a traditional church building. In his free time, Dustin likes playing frisbee, hiking and pretending to know how to sing.

Immigration, Oppression and Our God of "Yes"

What follows is video of a sermon I gave at Saint Peter's Church this past Sunday at Jazz Vespers, primarily on 1 Kings 21: 1 - 21 and Saint Luke 7: 36 - 8: 3.  I had something entirely different prepared until that morning, but kept feeling a tug on me all day to tell the story I ended up including.  Thus, this became my first time preaching without at least a mental manuscript.  From my eyes, it only turned out mediocre... it seemed unpolished, had a few missteps, and definitely had a weak conclusion.  The funny thing is that I heard from a few of the folks there that it was some of my best preaching all year.  So, did this last minute change of preaching style on Sunday work?  My initial response is no, but I'd love to hear your thoughts.



God's peace,
Dustin

Dustin currently serves as Vicar at the Lutheran Office for World Community and Saint Peter's Church in Manhattan, having recently completed his second year of a Masters of Divinity program at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia. While seeking ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, his focus is on the intersection between worship, service and justice in de-centralized faith communities unencumbered by a traditional church building. In his free time, Dustin likes playing frisbee, hiking and pretending to know how to sing.

Three Types of Christians, Epiphany 3C (sermon video)

I preached this sermon this past Sunday on January 27th, 2013, based on all three lectionary readings for the day, Nehemiah 8:1-3, 5-6, 8-10, 1 Corinthians 12:12-31 and Saint Luke 4: 14 - 21.  If you want to check out more sermons from Saint Peter's Church where I currently serve as Vicar, check out our Vimeo page.  I'd love to hear what you think and thanks so much for watching!



God's peace,
Dustin

Dustin is currently a vicar at the Lutheran Office for World Community and Saint Peter's Church in Manhattan, having recently completed his second year of a Masters of Divinity program at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia. While seeking ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, his focus is on the intersection between worship, service and justice building in de-centralized faith communities unencumbered by a traditional church building. In his free time, Dustin likes playing frisbee, hiking and pretending to know how to sing.

What It Means to Be a Christian, Epiphany 3C Sermon

What follows is a sermon draft I'll be preaching during Jazz Vespers tomorrow at Saint Peter's Church, where I currently serve as Vicar.  It reflects on all three lectionary readings for tomorrow, Nehemiah 8:1-3, 5-6, 8-10, 1 Corinthians 12:12-31 and Saint Luke 4: 14 - 21.  It's honestly one of my weaker ones in a while I think, so I'd love some input.  Thanks for reading!

I’ve been spending a lot of time lately, and especially over the past week, thinking about what it means it to be a Christian, particularly in the rapidly changing, sometimes exciting, but often discouraging, times we live in. And I’ve been dwelling on this question for two main reasons: First, upon hearing that Saint Peter’s was cited for its strong post-Superstorm Sandy relief efforts in the most recent issue of The Lutheran, I decided to pick up a copy. While I was happy to see Saint Peter’s mentioned in the storm-relief article, I was pretty bummed after the reading another article, entitled “The Shrinking Church,” which discussed the rapid decline of Lutheran churches all over the country. I’ve also been thinking about what it means to be Christian recently because of Barack Obama’s inaugural address. In the address, he not only boldly supports preserving the planet and advancing gay rights, but also cites faith in God as reason for doing so. In a time where many Americans, especially younger ones, have come to identify Christianity with irrelevance at best and bigotry at worst, the President’s words couldn’t have been more encouraging. To sum it up, stuck between fear of decline and hope for the future, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what it means to be a Christian.

And it was amidst such thinking this past Wednesday night while reading the three possible Bible passages for this Sunday’s sermon that I realized we needed to read all three of the passages tonight. We needed to include all three, and the Saint Peter’s staff needed to graciously include all three in the bulletin at the last minute (thank you!), because when juxtaposed with one another, each Bible passage illustrates one of the three ways most folks, I think, view their Christian faith in our contemporary world. To demonstrate what I mean, I’m going to need three volunteers to hold up one of these signs [EACH WITH A BIBLE VERSE], in order to sort of help organize what we’re talking about.

Thank you all very much for volunteering, and please know that what I’m about to say by no means represents the holder of each sign… So first we have the Nehemiah 8 folks, and by that I mean those whose view of faith is based off an easy to make misinterpretation of the passage. In Nehemiah 8 Ezra reintroduces the Torah to the post-exilic Jewish community rebuilding Jerusalem… and everyone promptly gets upset about having all these new rules. Ezra, along with Nehemiah, then begins to explain while the Torah is an amazing gift from God. Nehemiah 8 contains some profound lessons, but it’s easily misread to mean that the most central aspect of being a person of faith is following the rules, not sinning, or something like that. Now, sin is very a real thing, and the Bible definitely has some good advice about how to live our lives, but there’s a problem with the view of what it means to be Christian.

First, since the Bible was written over many hundreds of years for many different types of communities, many of the “rules” in are somewhat ambiguous, if not outright contradictory. And since it’s not possible to perfectly make sense of everything in the Bible, we can’t help but making up our own interpretation at times. And then, if we think we’re doing a great job of following whatever rules we make up, we in turn can’t help but look down on others who don’t follow those rules and thus we end up just sort of being downright mean to others. On the other hand, we might end up thinking we’re horrible at following the rules, and we end up living a life of despair that God hates us, or that we’re wholly bad people or that we’re going to hell, to use a predominately post-Biblical term. Looking at it from a different angle, this view of what it means to be a Christian only leads us to worship ourselves, and maybe the Bible, rather than God Herself.

So, now we’ll move onto the second popular view of what it means to be a Christian, the one reflecting a misinterpretation of 1 Corinthians 12. In this passage, Saint Paul writes to a diverse, urban congregation in Corinth that’s experiencing a great deal of conflict, telling them that we’re all one body in Christ, despite us all being different parts of that body. It’s a really good and powerful message, but can also easily be misread to mean that the central aspect of being Christian is to just be nice to everyone and to sort of stick up for the little guy in whatever you do. Now, this on the surface sounds a whole lot better than what the Nehemiah 8 folks over there are doing, but let’s dig a bit deeper. On the one hand, if we think we’re succeeding at being nice to people all the time, perfectly welcoming folks into our communities, its really easy to get cocky and really difficult to take a critical look at what were doing, and in turn its really easy to make some very big mistakes. On the other hand, we might think we’re failing all the time because we’re not helping others enough, only to end up downtrodden and hopeless. In the end, the second view of what it means to be Christian ends up looking a whole lot like the first… we only end up worshipping ourselves, rather than God.

Now much of the time, all of us either end up holding view number one or view number two… it’s profoundly in our DNA as people to fixate on what we’re doing… we simply can’t help it. Luckily though, we have a third view about what it means to be a Christian, a view that clearly shines through our Gospel reading today from Saint Luke, a view that reminds us that it’s not about us at all, a view which is very, very good news. Returning to his hometown, Jesus goes to the synagogue, picks up the scroll of Isaiah, and reads the following: [ASK VOLUNTEER #3 TO READ].

“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”

And then, giving the first sermon of his ministry, Jesus simply states, “Today this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.” Much like what follows this Gospel story, the good news might not always make folks happy, it might stir things up, it might startle people, but that’s what the good news is: the profound notion that it’s not about what we’re doing at all, but rather about all the amazing things God is doing through Christ. And just think about how good that news is… it means that we don’t need to be perfect, it means that we are loved, and it means that we are forgiven, no matter what.

So, when thinking about what it means to be Christian in this place, in this city, in this most exciting but discouraging of times, while we can’t help but standing up and caring for our neighbors because of how much God loves us, know that it’s not really about what we’re doing at all… it’s about a God that loves us, a God that cares for us, and God liberates us all from whatever may oppresses us, through Christ.


Dustin is currently a vicar at the Lutheran Office for World Community and Saint Peter's Church in Manhattan, having recently completed his second year of a Masters of Divinity program at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia. While seeking ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, his focus is on the intersection between worship, service and justice building in de-centralized faith communities unencumbered by a traditional church building. In his free time, Dustin likes playing frisbee, hiking and pretending to know how to sing.

Liberated Into God's Song, Advent 4C (sermon video)

I preached this sermon a few Sundays back at Jazz Vespers on December 23rd 2012, predominately on the Gospel lectionary text for the day, Luke 1: 39 - 56.  If you want to check out more sermons from Saint Peter's Church where I currently serve as Vicar, check out our Vimeo page.  I'd love to hear what you think and thanks so much for watching!



God's peace,
Dustin

Dustin is currently a vicar at the Lutheran Office for World Community and Saint Peter's Church in Manhattan, having recently completed his second year of a Masters of Divinity program at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia. While seeking ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, his focus is on the intersection between worship, service and justice building in de-centralized faith communities unencumbered by a traditional church building. In his free time, Dustin likes playing frisbee, hiking and pretending to know how to sing.

Freed Into God's Song, Advent 4C

What follows is a draft of the sermon I plan on preaching this Sunday at Saint Peter's Jazz Vespers Service. It's on the week's gospel text, Luke 1: 39 - 56. Would love to hear some input from folks... I'm especially concerned that the whole freed to live into God's justice part isn't in the right place.  Should I strength the last couple sentences?

To put it quite frankly, it’s been one heck of a year. In addition to whatever’s been going on in our own lives and the lives of our families and friends, we’ve collectively been hit by crisis after crisis… the threat of Eurozone debt spiraling out of control and our own “fiscal cliff” turning us back from a fragile economic recovery toward another deep recession… ongoing unrest, violence and civil war in the wake of the Arab Spring, as well as in countries like Mali and the Congo… the uncertainty and stress of a critical and seemingly close presidential election season… firm red lines with Iran and fighting in the Gaza Strip… destruction, death and ongoing suffering following Hurricane Sandy. A few weeks ago after Thanksgiving I remember talking with folks, some right here at Saint Peter’s, about how it finally felt like things were starting to get back to normal… and then of course, in the midst of the holiday season, a time we’re told is supposed to be filled with peace and light, we heard the horrific news of twenty first graders and six of their teachers killed by a young man with a high-powered rifle in Newtown, CT. President Obama put it best, I think, when trying to hold back the tears, he said that our hearts are broken. Indeed, our hearts are broken, and burned out from exhaustion, beaten down by the storms gathered round us, we claw for shelter, wondering what we can do in the face of such adversity… we wonder what we can do.


My sisters and brothers, tonight, and in fact at every Jazz Vespers, we are provided with a very powerful model of what can be done in such a situation through the story of two remarkable women, one young and one old. Mary, upon hearing the news of her pregnancy with Jesus, goes with haste to visit Elizabeth, her cousin who is miraculously six months pregnant with John the Baptizer. Mary, in stark contrast to the judgment and distain that was likely to greet her in the coming months as she began to show as an unwed woman, is greeted with joy by Elizabeth, who filled with the Holy Spirit, amazingly exclaims “blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb!” Even more amazingly, Mary, Mother of God responds with one of the most beloved and powerful songs of the Christian canon: the Magnificat, or Mary’s Song… the song we sing during healing at every Jazz Vespers… “My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord, and my Spirit rejoices in God my Savior.”

From what I’ve heard, through many other changes, singing the Magnificat has always been a part of Jazz Vespers at Saint Peter’s… and furthermore, it’s been a part of liturgical tradition throughout most of the Church’s history. Since at least the second century, it was sung daily at Evening Prayer, and still is to this day in many of the Western churches. In the Eastern, or what many of us might know as “Orthodox” churches, it’s appointed as part of Morning Prayer. Why though, you might ask, is it sung so frequently… why do we sing it every Sunday… how can it serve as such a powerful model for us, in this place, in this city, in these most troubled of times? The reason, my sisters and brothers, that Mary’s song is so powerful is simply because it’s not really about what she, or any of us, are really doing at all… it’s about what God is doing.

You see, Mary begins her song with a two-line parallelism, a common element of Hebrew prose that provides an important clarification… “My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord, and my Spirit rejoices in God my Savior.” The Magnificat is not just a song of Mary’s own soul, her own inner self, but also the song of the pneuma, the Holy Spirit, the very Breath of God upon her that gives voice to the amazing things that God has done, is doing, and will continue doing till the end of the age. And listen to what some of those amazing things are… casting the powerful down from their thrones… lifting up the lowly… filling the hungry with wondrous things… and most importantly, fulfilling promises. In preparing for tonight’s sermon I stumbled upon the amazing story of poor peasants in Nicaragua, campesinos, writing out Mary’s song and wearing it as a sort of amulet during the by the US backed violence of the Contras during the 1980s. Interviewed about the meaning of Mary’s words in 1987, one peasant woman states “Mary calls God 'Savior' because she knows that the Son that he has given her is going to bring liberation… She's full of joy. We women are also that way, because in our community the Messiah is born too, the liberator."

What a powerful message… “We are full of joy, because in our community, the Messiah is born too, the liberator.” You see my sisters and brothers, much like Mary, much like the campesinos in Nicaragua, we too are invited into God’s song. Not just at Christmas, and not just when singing the Magnificat, but each time we gather to worship and sing, and to play and dance to the song of God, through bread and wine, through water, through God’s Word and through community with others, Christ, the Messiah, the Liberator, comes into our midst. Christ comes into our midst; liberating us from the powers sin, death and darkness. Yes, Christ liberates us, freeing us to sing God’s song, freeing us to live into the promise of God’s justice whether it is by sheltering to the needy, standing up for marriage equality, or welcoming in all peoples into our community and country, whether or not they have the right piece of paper. Especially after the recent catastrophe in Connecticut, we’re freed to enter into a conversation where we collectively confess as a country that we have to do more to prevent gun violence, especially against our children and freed to bravely confess that such action does not include bringing more guns in our schools, even if they’re in the hands of the “good guys.” But most importantly my sisters and brothers, we’re freed to sing the song of a God that has promised to forgive us, care for us and nurture us and love us no matter what… a God that we know keeps Her promises.

God's peace,
Dustin

  Dustin is currently a vicar at the Lutheran Office for World Community and Saint Peter's Church in Manhattan, having recently completed his second year of a Masters of Divinity program at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia. While seeking ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, his focus is on the intersection between worship, service and justice building in de-centralized faith communities unencumbered by a traditional church building. In his free time, Dustin likes playing frisbee, hiking and pretending to know how to sing.