Sermon for Sunday, April 24, 2022  Second Sunday of Easter “Jesus Christ, Firstborn of the Dead”

Rev. Dr. Rolf Svanoe – Good  Shepherd Lutheran Church    Decorah, Iowa

Revelation 1:4-18 

Several years ago, I received a phone call from my daughter, Siri, who was a student at St. Olaf College. One of the assignments in her Religion class was to read through the book of Revelation. She was disturbed and frightened by the images. This was different than anything else she had ever read in the Bible, and she had lots of questions. 

I imagine many of you have had similar feelings about the book of Revelation. Most pastors don’t preach from Revelation. Some pastors are outright embar- rassed by it, or we are embarrassed by those who misinterpret it and hijack it to predict the end of the world. But there are good reasons to spend time in the book of Revelation. More than any other book of the Bible, Revelation has in- spired more art and hymns. Much of our liturgy which we sing comes straight out of Revelation. Did you know that Revelation is the only book in the Bible that promises a blessing to those who read it. My hope is that over the next five weeks you will fear it less and come to appreciate the message it can speak to our time. 

Martin Luther himself had questions about Revelation, and early on thought this book did not deserve a place in the Bible. Later in life, he changed his mind. I saw this in 2016 when I had the privilege of serving as a volunteer chaplain in Luther’s hometown, Wittenberg, Germany. For two weeks I served in the Wittenberg English Ministry holding brief worship experiences for English speaking tourists who wanted more than their tour guides could give them. We held our daily worship in the City Church which is called the mother church of the Reformation and the place where Luther preached many of his sermons. We held our daily service in a small chapel next to the chancel. There on the wall behind the altar was a sandstone relief from before the time of Luther, a picture of Christ, the judge of the world. There was a sword coming from his mouth. It was part of the piety of the time before the Reformation and meant to scare people as they came for worship and put the fear of God into them. Luther disliked this image. He much preferred to focus on Christ as Savior instead of Christ as Judge. 

The inspiration for that picture of Christ came straight from the first chapter of Revelation. The prophet John saw the Risen Christ.  “I saw one like the Son of Man, clothed with a long robe … In his right hand he held seven stars, and from his mouth came a sharp, two-edged sword, and his face was like the sun shining with full force.” It was a terrifying vision, and John’s immediate reaction was to fall at Jesus’ feet as though dead. He was terrified! Can you just picture yourself in John’s position? You would be frightened too. But Jesus’ immediate response to him was to place his hand on him and say, “Don’t be afraid. I am the first and the last, and the living one. I was dead, and see, I am alive forever and ever; and I have the keys of Death and Hades.” Don’t be afraid! 

What are you afraid of? There are lots of things for us to fear today. As a child, whenever I was afraid I would run to my mom or dad and they would put their hand on my head. It happened every time I watched the Wizard of Oz and the flying monkeys appeared. They terrified me. And somehow when mom or day would place a hand on my head it brought me comfort and reassured me that I was going to be okay. Jesus reached out in compassion to John, put his hand on him and told him not to fear. And Jesus is saying the same thing to us today, “Don’t be afraid.” There is a lot for us to be afraid of today. And Jesus would say the same thing to us that he said to the prophet John. Don’t be afraid of the future because I am with you. No matter what happens, nothing can separate you from my love for you. 

As we get into Revelation I want to say a few things about how we read it. First, we read it the same way we read any other book of the Bible. We ask questions about what it meant when it was first written, and only then do we begin to ask what it might mean for us today. When we read the book of Romans we don’t assume that the Apostle Paul is writing to Christians living 2,000 years in the distant future. We shouldn’t do that with Revelation either. The book of Revelation does not reveal an end-time calendar; it reveals Jesus Christ. In fact, those are the very first words of the book. “The revelation of Jesus Christ.” This book is all about revealing Christ to Christians who lived in Asia Minor 1900 years ago. Many of those Christians were experiencing ostracism for their faith. Many of them were being tempted to give in to Roman Imperial propaganda. Some of them just gave in because it was easier to get ahead. When we realize what Christians back then were experiencing, we find that the book of Revelation can still speak so powerfully to Christians today.

The second thing we need to know is that John uses symbols to communicate important spiritual truths. John doesn’t mean what he says, he means what he means. He uses symbols to communicate truth, and those symbols are powerful. So when John talks about Jesus having a sword coming from his mouth, he is not talking about a literal sword. The sword is a symbol to show us the power of the Word of God. 

We find the same symbol used in Hebrews chapter four where it says that “the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing until it divides soul from spirit, joints from marrow; it is able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart. And before him no creature is hidden, but all are naked and laid bare to the eyes of the one to whom we must render an account.” God’s word is powerful. That’s what this symbol of a two-edged sword means. We can’t hide from God. The word of God pierces to the center of who we are. There are no masks God can’t look behind, no secret sins God doesn’t see. The word of God cuts into us, past all our defenses to show us the truth about who we are. God knows us and there is nothing we can hide from God. 

If the word of God reveals who we are, we must remember that there are two edges to this sword. The Word of God also reveals whose we are. The word of God not only shows us our sins, but also shows us a Savior, who loves us. This is one of the very first things John tells us about Jesus. “To him who loves us and freed us from our sins by his blood.” In baptism, God claims us and gives us a new identity- child of God. The book of Revelation may be filled with bizarre and strange images, but there is nothing strange about this. “To him who loves us and freed us from our sins by his blood.” When life gets confusing, when the world seems frightening, this simple phrase keeps us grounded in our faith. When terror strikes, or extreme weather destroys everything, when a sudden stroke takes a loved one from us, or a cancer diagnosis turns our world upside down, that’s when we need to feel Jesus’ hand on our shoulders and his words in our ears, “Don’t be afraid. I am the first and the last, and the living one. I was dead, and see, I am alive forever and ever; and I have the keys of Death and Hades.” Jesus is the faithful witness, the one who spoke truth to power, a truth the powerful didn’t want to hear. And they killed Jesus for it. But God raised him from the dead to show us that truth, love and forgiveness, not hatred and violence, are the greatest powers of change in this world. In this Easter season, this is the good news that we celebrate. Jesus is risen from the dead. We need not fear God, we need not fear death, and we need not fear the future. 

As we journey through this bizarre book over the next four weeks, I want to invite you to memorize this verse and say it to yourself over and over again. “To him who loves us and freed us from our sins by his blood.” If we remember this, it will keep us grounded and help us face our fears. Christ is risen from the dead. He is risen indeed. Alleluia!

Sermon for Easter Sunday, April 17, 2022 Resurrection of Our Lord – Easter day “Remember, We Are Re-membered”

April 17, 2022, Easter Sunday
Good Shepherd Lutheran Church, Decorah, IA

Readings:  Luke 24:1-12; John 20:1-18; Acts 10:34-43; Psalm 118

Remember, We Are Re-membered
Beloved of God, grace to you and peace in the name of the risen Christ.

Remember, the angels tell the women at the tomb, remember what he told you. Remember he said he would die and rise again. Remember.

At first, the women can’t remember.
So much has happened. They’ve experienced such trauma.

Memory is such a strange thing. What do we remember and why?

This week I’ve been trying to remember all that’s happened in the years since this congregation last celebrated Easter Sunday in the sanctuary. It was three years ago, Easter 2019.

What do you remember from the past three years?
Who do you remember who’s not in the sanctuary today? Who are you grieving this Easter?

That first Easter, the women go to a place for memories, to the tomb. They go to remember Jesus and grieve him.

But when angels show up and ask if they remember what Jesus told them, I can just imagine their response.

Remember what he told us?
We’ve just been through hell.
We watched as our teacher was tortured and killed.
All our hopes for him, crushed.
We remember a lot, but his teachings, not so much.
Our minds keep reliving the horrible things that have happened and that’s about all we can handle right now.

The women can’t remember the promise.
Any hopeful talk seems to them an idle tale, as it does for the apostles later.

That’s how it is with us humans.

Our brains are wired to pay attention to
painful, fearful, negative experiences.
Those are stored in our brain much more easily than positive ones.
Apparently, our brains evolved this way to protect us.
It was crucial for our early ancestors to remember the sound of a prowling tiger, less important to savor the bird song returning each spring.

I reflected upon this three years ago on Easter but this year,
after two years of a pandemic, it seems even more important to name.

That feature of our brain, meant to protect us from tigers,
also keeps us stuck in stress cycles:
unable to let down, unable to breathe freely, unable to hear the birds.

So no, of course,
the women don’t remember what Jesus said and did and all that he taught them. All they can remember is the hard stuff.
They are buried in their own tombs of grief, fear, anxiety.

But then, something changes for them.
As they stand there in the light of a new day, in that open, empty tomb, near the stone that has been rolled away,
as they hear astonishing good news from the angels – he is risen – things start to shake loose for them.

They lift up their heads to look around, they begin to breathe a little more easily. Something greater than trauma gets inserted into their mental loop
and they DO start to remember more about Jesus.
You know, he did talk about dying and rising again.

And, he said what is impossible for mortals is possible for God.” “Remember how he healed and forgave people,
how he showed such compassion and welcome?
It was like he brought life with him wherever he went.”

“He crossed boundaries, too: eating with sinners and tax collectors, inviting us women into his ministry.
All the normal barriers didn’t seem to stop him.
Maybe he really did rise from the dead.”

The women start to remember more about Jesus.

As they do, they realize they know something deeper and stronger than the trauma they’ve experienced.
They’ve known such love and hope and life in Jesus’ presence. Slowly they begin to imagine other possibilities.

Perhaps that love cannot be stopped, maybe that life is stronger than death, and hope will arise again.
Light seeps into their closed hearts and minds.
The stones of fear and anxiety start to roll away.

Pain and fear lose their grip.

They run from the tomb to share the news that Jesus is risen. They experience resurrection, as do the apostles eventually.

This is what the good news of Jesus’ life, death and resurrection does for us, for our brains and our bodies. It changes things.
It breaks through all that entombs us in fear and despair.
It interrupts our hardwired anxious, negative thinking

to remind us of what is deeper and truer – God’s love is stronger than death. Life and hope cannot, will not be stopped.

Slowly the stones are rolled away, the light seeps in, new possibilities emerge, hope arises.
We can hear bird song again.
We can hear the strains of Alleluia played by the band, sung by children.

We can join the song.

We can remember God’s faithfulness through these three years
revealed in so many ways:
Outdoor worship, online worship, Epic Easter Vigil bonfires,
shepherds caring for flocks of members, three ordinations, a building renovation, grieving families surrounded with love, cards sent, prayers offered,

new members welcomed, prayer shawls, healing from accidents,
parking lot communion services, Lutheran World Relief kits,
an Zoom Christmas program, Immigration clinics,
thousands of dollars raised by the youth for Afghan guests and the Ukraine crisis. Life that cannot be stopped.

Remember. Remember. Remember.

And when you can’t remember, know that God remembers you. God remembers us. God is faithful and holds us always.
God also re-members us- puts us back together again-
in new and life-giving ways as people, as a congregation.

We still bear wounds, as the risen Christ did,
but we too are re-membered, made new, again and again.

This is what the good news of Jesus does, it changes us. We are opened to new life.
We are remembered.

Those angels stand in an empty tomb, and they tell us to remember – he is risen. He is risen and we will arise.
Lift up your heads, sing out with joy.
Christ is risen. Christ is risen indeed. Alleluia.

Thanks be to God.

Masks now optional and respected at Green Level

Beloved of God,

Thank you to all who filled out the survey on masking. Seventy-eight households responded. 86% of respondents indicated that they are comfortable worshiping in person with masks optional. I was so moved by your responses. In a time when masking can be so divisive, Good Shepherd worshippers offered such kind and gentle responses. Thank you for all the ways you are tending to health and overall wellbeing at this time. It is an honor to serve as your pastor. 

We have navigated so much together over the past two years. We have loved each other and God’s world so faithfully during this time. I would love to rejoice together with you this Sunday at Easter worship and brunch following worship. Please RSVP for the brunch here: https://forms.gle/qVV9bannfirJ19ae6. If worshiping in person isn’t possible for you right now, I hope you will join the livestream of the service at 9:30 on our YouTube channel. Easter Sunday will be my last Sunday leading worship for a while as my sabbatical starts on April 24. I’d love to be with you, in person or online, before I leave!

After considering the CDC recommendations on masking and the Good Shepherd survey data, the Congregation Council has adopted updated COVID-19 protocols (see below.) We are being guided by COVID-19 Community Levels “a new tool to help communities decide what prevention steps to take based on the latest data. Levels can be low, medium, or high and are determined by looking at hospital beds being used, hospital admissions, and the total number of new COVID-19 cases in an area.”  These Community Levels for each county can be found right on the front page of the CDC website at: https://www.cdc.gov/. This data is updated every Thursday night. Now that the CDC has such easy to access guidance, we will follow these levels rather than the levels used by Luther College.

We are also being guided by the high vaccination rate in our congregation and the increased use of KN95 (or similar type) masks by those who are immunocompromised. Those masks provide strong protection for people who need to wear them even when others are not masked. We are also being guided by the reality that COVID-19 will now always be with us. We are aware that a new variant, BA.2, is on the rise in the US now. We need to find ways to live with the variants. Continual masking can make worship and community life more difficult for many. 

Currently, our county Community Level is low. At this level, per Congregation Council action on Sunday, masks during worship at Good Shepherd are now both optional and respected. You will be honored if you wear a mask and if you don’t wear a mask. Both are thoughtful choices at this time. This change will go into effect starting with Maundy Thursday evening worship this Thursday, April 14 at 7pm. Masks will still be required at the Maundy Thursday 12:15pm service to provide a safer communion option for those who need that. 

Peace to you,

Pastor Amy

Good Shepherd COVID-19 Protocols rev. April 10, 2022 

 based on Winneshiek County Community Levels found here: https://www.cdc.gov/.

Green- low 

  • Masks optional and respected
  • Communion with bread and individual cups

Yellow- medium

  • Masks recommended
  • Communion with bread and individual cups

Red- high 

  • The CDC recommends indoor masking at this level
  • Masks required in worship
  • Communion with pre-packaged servings
  • Masks encouraged in the building, may be removed with the consent of all present

At all levels:

  • If you test positive for COVID or aren’t feeling healthy, stay home and join in worship online. 
  • If you have been exposed to COVID-19 but have tested negative, wear a mask in worship until ten days after your exposure even if you are vaccinated and boosted.
  • Fellowship Hour will continue through the spring and summer, even in red, unless the Congregation Council determines it should be suspended. People are welcome to take coffee and treats outdoors. 
  • Food may be served in the building, masks are requested in the serving line at the red level.

Ministry Support Coordinator, Erica Yaneff, will watch the CDC website each week and update signs on the doors on Friday. If there is a move in or out of the red level, she will alert the congregation via email. 

Sermon for Sunday, April 10, 2022  Palm Sunday – Sunday of the Passion “Which Voices Will Prevail”

Rev. Amy Zalk Larson – Good  Shepherd Lutheran Church    Decorah, Iowa

Click here to read scripture passages for the day.

 

Today we get to immerse ourselves in the story of Jesus’ passion from the Gospel of Luke. I invite you to pay close attention to the sounds and voices you hear. We’ll ponder them in a brief reflection after the Gospel reading. You can remain seated for the reading of the Gospel.

Beloved of God, grace to you and peace in the name of Jesus.

This Sunday is full of lots of loud voices and lots of contrasts. We begin by yelling, “Hosanna in the Highest!” and singing out, “All Glory Laud and Honor”. We hear how the whole multitude of the disciples “praised God joyfully with a loud voice for all the deeds of power that they had seen”. They, like we, had such high hopes that God was going to bring peace and change with Jesus.

Suddenly, we’re hearing about how the whole assembly of the leaders of the people vehemently accused Jesus before Pilate. They shout that Pilate should do away with Jesus, and release a murderer instead. Their voices grow to fevered pitch until all together they shout, “Crucify him, crucify him.” The crowd “Keeps urgently demanding with loud shouts that Jesus be crucified and their voices prevail.” And then, all of sudden, we find ourselves right in the middle of voices full of anger, violence, sorrow and death?

As we continue on, we hear about  women “beating their breasts and wailing for Jesus, leaders scoffing at him, soldiers mocking him, and a condemned criminal deriding him.” And then Jesus, the one who was to bring peace and change, “cries out with a loud voice, ‘Father into your hands I commend my spirit.’” And dies.

Suddenly all worship and celebration seem awfully far away and awfully irrelevant to what’s in front of us. The voices of praise and hope are drowned out by the voices of death. And though the contrast is especially stark today, the contrasts of this Sunday aren’t all that different from what we encounter every Sunday.

We gather to worship and praise, we rejoice and sing out our hopes for God to do a new thing in our world. We pray for peace. And then we walk out of those doors and we’re surrounded by voices full of anger, violence, sorrow and death. We get back home and our bickering starts up again. We pick up the phone and hear the voice of yet another loved one who’s been diagnosed with cancer. We check the news and hear about atrocities in Ukraine.

As we leave here each Sunday and face all these other sounds, it doesn’t take long for the joyful gathering, the praising and singing, to feel awfully far away and awfully irrelevant to what faces. The voices of hope and praise are drowned out, overpowered, even silenced by voices full of sorrow, anger, despair and death. Or are they? When Jesus was told to silence his disciples’ praises he answered, “I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out.” Jesus said that the voices of hope and praise cannot be silenced, cannot be dismissed as irrelevant. Jesus said that life and peace will have the last word.And yet, when Jesus was on trial, the crowd, “Kept urgently demanding with loud shouts that Jesus should be crucified and their voices prevailed.” 

Which voices will prevail in our world? In our lives?  Are our gatherings of praise and worship insignificant and irrelevant? Do we sing a word of false hope that will always be overpowered by the sounds of death?

Which voices will prevail? This week, this week we call Holy, we will hear all the ways that the powers of death try to defeat the power of life, try to silence our hope. Sometimes in this week, as in life, things get deafeningly loud. Sometimes things get painfully silent. At one point this week it will seem that death has prevailed and the silence will be terrible. The silence will proclaim the death of the Voice, the Word of life.

But in the end, Jesus’ words will ring out, “I tell you if these were silent, the stones would shout out.” In the end, a stone will tell of life – a stone that has been rolled away from an empty tomb to release again the Voice, the Word of life.

This voice is loose and at work in our world, telling a new story, singing a new song of peace and life.

Holy Week helps us to join that song.

Sermon for Sunday, April 3, 2022  Fifth Sunday in Lent  “Offering Love”

 

Rev. Amy Zalk Larson

Good  Shepherd Lutheran Church    Decorah, Iowa

 

Click here to read scripture passages for the day.

Beloved of God, grace to you and peace in the name of Jesus.

This week I got to witness this story happening again. I got to see a woman anoint the body of Christ, as Mary of Bethany did long ago. I was gathered with a part of the body of Christ, members of the Northeastern Iowa Synod of our ELCA. People shared honestly about pain in the 

church today. We named the racism, sexism, homophobia that plague us. We lamented what we have lost during the pandemic, the ways old patterns of being church are dying. God brings life out of death, but it’s hard in this in-between time when the old is dying and the new is not yet emerging. Many expressed the feeling that we can never do enough or be enough in the face of all that is wrong, all that is broken in our world today. Tempers flared. 

And then a young pastor, Pastor Laurel Meester, stood up to speak. As she spoke, hope and love washed over me and so many of us in the room. She said, “I’m thinking of Mary of Bethany. In the face of death, she offered what she had for Jesus. She showed him love. Others judged her; Judas critiqued her – she’s not doing enough for the poor. Yet, Jesus received her offering and honored What she did helped him offer his life for the world.”

And you, Pastor Laurel, said to us, “You can offer what you have. You can show love. You can give and trust that Jesus will receive what you bring without judgment and critique, that Jesus will use what you offer for God’s work in the world. As she spoke, the body of Christ gathered there was anointed, anointed with love, with hope. I could take a deep breath again. I could release the butterflies that had been crashing into each other in my stomach. In the face of pain, this young pastor poured out such love for the body of Christ.

The story of a woman anointing Jesus is so important. It is told by each of the Gospel writers. 

Each tells it a little differently. John says it was Mary who anointed Jesus’s feet. The other three say an unnamed woman anointed his head but affirm the woman’s action even more robustly. In those Gospel accounts, Jesus proclaims, “She has shown great love, she has done a great service, she has done what she could; she has anointed my body beforehand for its burial.” In Matthew and Mark Jesus says, “Truly I tell you, wherever the good news is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her.”

This story is central to the account of Jesus’ death and resurrection, yet it is often not told the way Jesus said it should be. Yet this week I witnessed again how much we need to remember and relive this story. The body of Christ needs to be anointed again and again with the love displayed by this woman. We need the hope her story offers. We need to follow her example.

There is so much pain, so much death, so much despair in so many spaces today. The old is dying and the new is not yet emerging. Can we do enough, be enough? How then shall we live? Offer love. Do what you can. Jesus will receive it, Jesus will bless it, Jesus will use it in the work of bringing new life.

This week I heard about a twelve year old (in our congregation) who is doing what he can, offering his love in the face of all the pain of the Ukrainians. When this boy heard about Russia’s invasion, he took out his beloved Duplo building blocks and made Ukrainian flags out of the yellow and blue blocks. He then committed that he won’t break those flags apart until the war ends. This boy uses his Duplo blocks regularly. He pays close attention to detail and builds accurate, masterful creations. Yellow and blue usually figure prominently in his realistic projects. But in this act of love, he is committing to remember and honor the people of Ukraine each day. Learning of this offering, this act of love, has helped me to commit to pray and give for Ukraine for the long haul.

If you look outside our sanctuary today you will see offerings of toothbrushes and washcloths given to make Personal Care Kits for Lutheran World Relief. Right now, care kits collected last Lent are helping to anoint Christ’s body in Ukraine, Poland, Hungary and in refugee camps around the world.

And there are so many ways we anoint the body of Christ closer to home with prayer shawls and service on committees and musical offerings and ushering and meals brought and the cards you send to say thank you for being the cantor or I am praying for you. I remember after my husband Matt’s car accident all the care and love. One of the most memorable offerings was someone who sent boxes of candy and microwave popcorn and the encouragement to have a family movie night. “Do something fun, laugh,” the card said, “that’s important for healing, too.”

Offer love. Do what you can. Jesus will receive it, Jesus will bless it, Jesus will use it in the work of bringing new life. Here today, Jesus pours out love upon your beloved body, upon you who are an essential part of the body of Christ.

Here, words of love and promise wash over you. Songs of hope bathe you in life. Bread and wine, the body of Christ, are given for you. Extravagant, abundant, fragrant love is showered upon you.

Because of this love you are enough, you have enough to do what you can and give what you have.

Let’s take a moment for silent prayer.