Baptism of Our Lord – First Sunday after Epiphany
Good Shepherd Lutheran Church
Decorah, Iowa
Rev. Amy Zalk Larson

Click here to read scripture passages for the day.

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

I give thanks that this week, after all the turmoil in our nation’s capital, we have the chance to reflect upon the power of baptism.

At first glance, baptism may seem removed from the issues of the day.  Yet, the gifts God gives us in baptism are the very gifts we need for the facing of this hour. In baptism God declares our true identity – be- loved child of God. This happened in Jesus’ baptism. It happens when we are first baptized and when we remember our baptisms. God speaks through scripture, through pastors called to proclaim on God’s be- half, and through the community. God speaks and acts in a concrete way to declare to you, “You are my beloved child.”

Baptism is not what first makes us God’s child. Every single person on earth is God’s beloved child. We are all created in love, made in God’s image. God looks upon each of us and declares us good. God commits to loving each one of us. Yet God knows we struggle to believe that we are loved by God. So God gives us the gift of baptism. God works in a way that we can feel and hear, through water and word, to proclaim over and over: You are my beloved child.

This identity is a gift. It is also a calling – a calling to be defined first and foremost by God rather than any- thing else. We are called to let our identity as God’s beloveds define the way we live and the way we re- late to others. It’s not easy to fully live out this identity that God has given us. There are so many other ways that the world defines us, that we define ourselves. We’re labeled by where we live – urban or rural, red state or blue. We’re identified by what we read, how we get our news, where we shop and how we eat. We’re defined by our jobs, genders, races, sexual orientations and politics.

Certainly all of those things are important, yet none of them encompass the fullness of who we are: You are more than a vegan, he is not only a Republican. Your boss is not just a gay person. Your neighbor is more than a police officer. We are all so much more than all these labels; they do not ultimately define us.

We are mysteries beyond comprehension. We are wondrously and fearfully made.

These identities cannot provide us with ultimate meaning. They can become false gods promising security, purpose and hope, yet leaving us empty. They can divide us. They can lead to hatred and even violence as displayed this week at the Capitol. We saw the evil that happens when tribal, political, religious and national identities become idols and weapons. This week was extreme, but the seeds of this violence lie within each of us. We so often claim privileged status for ourselves and diminish the humanity of those who differ from us.

The voice of God cuts through all of this. In the face of all that seeks to define and claim, drive and divide us, the voice of God rings out to say, “You are my beloved.” AND, “They, too, are my beloved.” Every single person, every person who stormed the Capitol this week, is a beloved child of God. Every single person, every politician who disgusts you, is a beloved child of God. God loves them. God loves each of us, not be- cause of what we do or how we vote or how we worship, but because of who God is and what God does. God has committed to love.

Love is not a warm fuzzy emotion that arises because someone is worthy. It is an action, a commitment, a choice. God has chosen the way of love. And God calls us to live as beloved children of God by living in the way of love. Love does not mean having warm feelings for someone or being nice. Love does not turn a blind eye to injustice in order to avoid conflict.

Love seeks wellbeing for all people by working to disrupt everything that divides and diminishes us. Love challenges all the white supremacy in our nation because it harms God’s people – people of color and white people. Love renounces the sin and evil that makes us doubt that we are God’s beloved, the sin and evil that leads us to treat others as anything less than God’s beloved.

Love is both humble and bold. It kneels before others who are loved by God yet stands with integrity and conviction.^[1] We are created by Love, claimed by Love, called by Love. We are called to let Love define our identity and our actions.

The world will call you many things. The world will try to rename you. Today we echo the voice of the Triune God. Today we call you beloved of God. When we see you begin to wonder if this name is really yours, we promise to remind you: You are indeed God’s beloved child.

May our lives proclaim the truth that all people are God’s beloved children.

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^[1] Bishop Michael Curry used this image in a conversation with Krista Tipped and Dr. Russell Moore hosted by the On Being Project. https://onbeing.org/programs/bishop-michael-curry-dr-russell-moore-spiritual-bridge-people/#transcript

Second Sunday of Christmas
Good Shepherd Lutheran Church
Decorah, Iowa
Rev. Amy Zalk Larson

Click here to read scripture passages for the day.

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

How will we move through the year 2021? Even as we’re breathing a collective sigh of relief that 2020 is over, we have some trepidation about what the new year will be like. We long for life to return to normal. Yet throughout this pandemic, the collective rush to get back to normal before it’s safe has deepened the suffering from this virus. We long for life to feel normal, yet we’re aware that our pre-2020 normal was deeply problematic.

Can we enter into a more hopeful future?
Can we move through the year 2021 differently after all we’ve been through?

Our first reading, from the book of Jeremiah, speaks right into these questions. It speaks of return, restoration and a new normal for the people of God who’ve been experiencing trauma upon trauma. They’ve been living in exile in Babylon, far from home, for over four decades. They’ve been cut off from all their patterns of daily life, their ways of gathering and praying, and of being in relationship with each other and with God. They’re aware that even after they return they will face the lingering impact of the trauma. Many of their leaders have been disfigured and blinded by Babylonian displays of strength and power. Their homes and economy are in ruins.

Into all of this, the prophet Jeremiah speaks God’s word of consolation and promise. This word is for those exiles long ago, yet it is also for us today. Jeremiah paints a picture of a great company of God’s people returning from exile. We are part of this great company as we move into 2021.

There are some striking features about this promised grand movement of God’s people. It is a joyful pro- cession full of dancing and shouts of rejoicing almost like a parade, but no false cheer is required to join this parade. Instead, God proclaims, “With weeping they will come and with consolations I will lead them back … I will turn their mourning into joy, I will comfort them, and give them gladness for sorrow.”

Which is to say that in this parade there is room for all who weep, who mourn, who live with deep sorrow. We don’t have to put on some happy, clown face to be part of this parade. We don’t have to muster up a syrupy sweet positivity to scatter like tootsie rolls from a parade float. We don’t have to pull ourselves together before we can join the movement of God’s people. We can walk together into new life while sharing the stories of all that we have lost.

Jeremiah’s vision of a grand procession returning home also acknowledges the ongoing reality of the people’s condition. They can’t go back to who they were before, so God will bring them back as who they are now. We’re told, “The blind and the lame, those with child and those in labor, together; a great company, they shall return here.” Which is to say, those most impacted by the Babylonians, those who were publicly disfigured and blinded by the conquering rulers, will be at the center of the procession home. The people will return not as a mighty army but as a great company of the forgotten, the disabled and the vulnerable.

These images remind us of our dependence upon God. We can’t enter into a hopeful future through sheer force of will, through the power of positive thinking or stellar new year’s resolutions, through our own effort. It is God who will gather us up and lead us like a shepherd into restoration and new life.

Finally, Jeremiah imagines this great company of people returning as a procession into worship. The people will be gathered in all the places of exile and led back into Zion, the place of worship. In this way, the people’s trauma is connected to a sense of liturgy. And the trauma leads to a reformation of their communal life as the people of God. God declares that those usually judged least suitable for leadership – the feeble and the vulnerable, the lowly and the wounded – will become the center of this new life. God affirms who is most valued in this new community, who should be protected and honored. And from this reformed worship life, God announces new patterns of wellbeing for all declaring, “They shall be radiant over the goodness of the Lord, over the grain, the wine, and the oil, and over the young of the flock and the herd; their life shall become like a watered garden … my people shall be satisfied with my bounty.”

In much the same way, our worship and communal life has been formed by the coming of the Christ child, a vulnerable child who leads us. At the center of our worship is a peasant born in a manger who sought refuge in Egypt, lived in poverty, and died at the hands of the state. This Jesus shares all the trauma of all the people of God. This Jesus has come among us to lead us into God’s promised future – a future in which the lowly are at the center and in leadership, protected and honored, a future of wellbeing for all people.

Beloved of God, as you enter 2021 hear this word of promise for you. You are part of the great company of God’s people moving into God’s promised future. All the sorrow you carry is welcomed in the procession. God’s word of hope and promise doesn’t ignore the losses you have faced. It names them. It honors them, providing us consolation right in the midst of them. New life is birthed right in the place of pain.

You do not have to chart the course to a hopeful future alone; we do not have to do this on our own. God carries us like a shepherd. God guides us into patterns of worship and community that lead to the flourishing of life for all – to life that is like a watered garden. We who are frail and vulnerable cannot live in these ways on our own. Our sin is too great. Yet we can rely upon God who has come to live among us in Jesus, the Christ child who leads us into God’s future.

This promise is for you, for us, and for all people today. With weeping we will come. With consolations God will lead us home.

Let’s take a moment for silent prayer.

I am indebted to the commentary by Rev. Remy Remmers, “Tensions of Grief and Gladness”, on the D/SRUPT WORSHIP PROJECT blog https://www.disruptworshipproject.com/rcl/tensions-of-grief-and-gladness

Nativity of Our Lord – Christmas Eve
Good Shepherd Lutheran Church
Decorah, Iowa
Rev. Amy Zalk Larson

Luke 2:1-20

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

The first major celebration of Jesus’ birth took place in a field – not in the temple, not in some grand cathedral, but in a field where “there were shepherds living, keeping watch over their flocks by night.” The first Christmas worship happened right where those shepherds spent all their time, just as it’s happening for you tonight in the place where you live and work, go to school, and keep watch in the night.

That first Christmas, great joy erupted amidst a barren landscape. Worship began as an angel appeared to announce good news – a Savior has been born for you. Suddenly there was a multitude of the heavenly host. The angels praised God with jubilant refrains that we now sing at Christmas: “glory to God in the highest” and “peace to God’s people on earth”.

This joyous occasion happened in a field – a field ripe with the muck of daily life, the place where these shepherds toiled and strained and hunkered down again and again, over and over. It happened amid yet another long, lonely, sleepless night. Those shepherds had to be ever vigilant,

always on alert as they kept watch over their flocks. There were so many dangers lurking in the shadows. Constant attention was required and yet everyday was the same as the day before. Their work was never done. They could never really get away and rest. Their life was one of loneliness and isolation.

Any of this sound familiar? God’s people have been in these hard places before, even at Christmas.

The shepherds did not expect joy that night. They were just trying to get by, to get through. But then, good news of great joy came to them, found them right where they lived. The angel brought God’s message. A savior is born who will shepherd you – who will carry you, tend and lead you, save you and all people from the sin that ensnares. Good news of great joy for the shepherds, for the world. Anthems of praise arose and surrounded them.

During that first Christmas worship in a field, the landscape of that field was transformed. Barren- ness gave way to joyous hope. The place of toil and strain became hallowed ground.

The landscape of those shepherds’ lives was also transformed. Routines of weariness and worry were disrupted. Hope sprang up in their hearts. They went with haste to Bethlehem to kneel be- fore the newborn savior, to share what they’d heard about this child. They could not contain what the angels had told them. Worship arose within them. Good news fell from their lips. Then they returned home, glorifying and praising God just as the angels had done. The song of the angels lingered with them.

As they returned to their fields there were still dangers in the night. Exhaustion and anxiety re- mained. Yet the ground beneath their feet had changed. There was something new on the horizon.

Joy had come to live with them through all the long nights. Hope had been born for them, disrupting despair. The angels’ song had become their own. The assurance of a Savior carried them, upheld them. They could move through the days and nights differently.

Dear people of God, you who are weary and worried, you who have spent too many lonely, sleepless nights with despair lurking close, tonight God’s message comes to you right where you live.

Good news finds you in the very place where you’ve been toiling and straining and keeping watch, the place where you’ve been hunkered down for months. Jubilant refrains erupt from your screen – the same screen that brought you presidential debates, task force briefings, scenes of violence and destruction and all manner of muck. The phone, the iPad used for doom scrolling, the laptop for endless Zoom conversations become hallowed ground.

The angels’ song interrupts your tedious routines, drowns out the headlines. Anthems of praise surround you tonight. Joy comes to live with you. Hope is born again for you and for us all.

A Savior is born. A savior who shepherds you, those you love and all people. A savior whose presence transforms the barren landscape of this whole weary world.

So tonight, let your song of joy arise.
Let good news fall from your lips.
Share in the wonder of this night.
The angels’ song will linger with you.
It will become your own refrain as you stand, where you live, on holy ground.