Ash Wednesday
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. Amen.

Get out there and show ‘em what you’re made of.

I overheard someone say that recently and I immediately thought about Ash Wednesday. (This is one of the occupational hazards of being a preacher.)

Of course, that phrase – show ‘em what you’re made of – is meant to inspire a team or rally the troops. Show ‘em your courage, your strength, your talent – show ‘em you’re made of sterner stuff.

Yet when I heard it, this close to Ash Wednesday, I thought: You mean show ‘em I’m made of dust?

On Ash Wednesday, we’re reminded that we are made of dust. “Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return.” Remember that you are a fragile, frail, mortal and that you will die.

Remember that you are vulnerable, broken and totally dependent on God.

This message probably won’t whip us into a frenzy of athletic prowess. It won’t inspire foot stomping or fist bumps. Yet facing the truth that we are made of dust is actually quite liberating. We are dust. We can let go of all our pretense, all our attempts to spruce ourselves up. We humans spend so much time trying to look like we’ve got it all together. We spend so much energy trying to compensate for what we lack, trying to prove ourselves, trying to hide our vulnerabilities. This wears us out and sucks our souls dry. Yet, facing the truth that we are made of dust is actually quite liberating.

On Ash Wednesday God calls us to stop. Quit trying to cover. Lay down all pretense. Remember, you are dust. And, remember what God can do with dust. Out of the dust, out of the dirt, God formed us and all that exists. We carry within us the dust of the brilliant, distant stars. Dust is fertile ground for God’s work. Dirt is a garden, a sanctuary, for the Holy One to bring life.

The knowledge that we are dust is unsettling and humbling. Yet it is also so very grounding and life-giving. Our lives do not depend upon our own frail courage, strength and talent, on our ability to tidy things up. Our lives depend upon God who brings life from dust, from dirt, from death. Our lives depend upon God who promises to bring new life for you, for me.

The dusty cross that will be placed upon our foreheads tonight makes these promises of God visible.^[1] A cross is first placed upon our foreheads at our baptism along with the proclamation, Child of God, you are sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever. The cross marked on our forehead at baptism says that “every bit of our dust is claimed and loved by God.”

That baptismal cross stays on our dusty bodies forever. We are marked by the promises of God, they “stick to our dust and hold us in hope.” Yet we can’t always see this. We don’t always remember that we are marked by the cross of Christ forever. The dust tonight makes that cross visible. It makes apparent the promises of God that are bound to us. It reveals that God’s promises always stick.

Get out there and show ‘em what you are made of. We are made of dust and the promises of God.

Marked with the cross of Christ, we show the glory of God who brings dust to life.

Let’s take a moment for silent prayer.
_______

1. Insights from Zeittlow, Amy. Commentary on Ash Wednesday for the Christian Century. All quotes come from this article. https://www.christiancentury.org/article/living-word/february-26-ash-wednesday-matthew-61-6-16-21

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

Click here to read scripture passage for the day.

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

“You will do well to be attentive to this as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts.” Those words from our second reading today captured my imagination this week.

We would do well to be attentive indeed. The author of the reading is saying that we would do well to be attentive to the prophetic message about Jesus. Yet, it struck me that we would do well just to be generally more attentive.

We would do well to be attentive to the colors of our loved ones’ eyes, to the sun sparkling on snow, to the song of chickadees, to the needs of those who face hunger, homelessness and persecution. In paying attention to these things, we pay attention to God. For God’s eye is on the sparrow and God is close to the brokenhearted. An attentive awareness of God’s presence is like a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in our hearts.

We would be well to be attentive. Yet, that’s so hard for us. Often, we can’t pay attention because we’ve got so much to do and we’re getting pulled in too many directions. The tasks run through our brains in a continual anxiety producing loop making it hard to notice the sunset. Other times, our brains just shut down due to information overload.

Some days we want to cover our faces and stop up our ears because things feel so fearful, so heart- breaking that we can’t bear to take it all in. Other days we really want to give the world our full attention, but find ourselves in a fog of sorrow, anger or memory loss.

And then there are times when we’re just mindlessly scrolling through social media or email – sometimes shopping, sometimes reading news – while a show plays in the background, while we pretend to be listening to someone else. This is such a common phenomenon there’s even a name for it – continuous partial attention. Sometimes it’s caused by boredom, sometimes by a fear of missing out; but either way we find ourselves stuck and drained of life.

We would do well to be attentive, but that’s not an easy thing to do. God knows that. So, God goes to great lengths to get our attention, to get through to us. God comes to us in Jesus so that we might know that God loves us and pays attention to us so that we might join God in attending to the beau- ty and the needs of the world. In Jesus, God has gone to great lengths to get through to us. Yet, we still often miss what God is doing in Jesus.

In our Gospel story today, Peter, James and John aren’t really getting it either. They can’t see that Jesus is God with them. They can’t take it all in. So, Jesus takes them up on a mountain where his glory is revealed. He is transfigured before them, his face shines like the sun, and his clothes become dazzling white. This should get through to them, but rather than standing in awe and taking it all in, Peter decides he should do something, even if it’s wrong. He seems to take the approach that if things don’t make sense, it’s better just to keep busy so you don’t really have to deal with it all.

Then God speaks out of a cloud and declares, “This is my son, listen to him!” That should get their attention. Except, it frightens them so much that they fall to the ground, overcome by fear – not exactly the best posture for active listening. I suppose that’s a tension God always has to navigate – how to get through to us without completely overwhelming us.

Finally, Jesus comes to the disciples, touches them and says, “Get up and do not be afraid.” “Get up,” he says, yet what he’s saying is not just get off the ground. The Greek verb here is the same word the angel uses to tell the women at the empty tomb that Jesus has been resurrected, “He has been raised!” the angel says. So, what Jesus actually says to the disciples on the mountain is more like, “arise”, “be raised up”, or even “be resurrected.” When the disciples are overwhelmed by God’s voice, when they are cowering on the ground in fear, Jesus touches them and resurrects them.

He raises them into new life, new awareness, new attentive participation in what God is doing in the world. He assures them they do not need to be afraid, he is with them.

These words – “arise” and “do not be afraid”- are repeated throughout scripture to God’s people who are lost, inattentive, overwhelmed and fearful. They were spoken to the disciples long ago and they are spoken now today to us. God speaks to us through holy scripture in a manner that’s a little less scary than a voice from a cloud to say, “Do not be afraid.”

And, Jesus comes to us in holy communion. As we meet him in his body and blood, he touches us and resurrects us. He raises us up from our fears, anxieties, inattentiveness – from all that drains away our life and keeps us stuck. He empowers us to attend to the needs and the beauty of this world.

“Arise, do not be afraid.” We would do well to be attentive to this message. It is a lamp shining in a dark place until the day dawns and the morning star rises in our hearts.

“Arise, do not be afraid.” Jesus is here to help us receive that message.

Let’s take a moment for silent prayer.

Sixth 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.

Author Phillip Yancey tells about meeting a woman who was in desperate straits. She was home- less, sick, and unable to buy food for her two-year-old daughter. She’d turned to prostitution to survive. He writes, “I asked if she had ever thought of going to a church for help. I will never forget the look of pure, naive shock that crossed her face. ‘Church!’ she cried, ‘Why would I ever go there? I’m already feeling terrible about myself. They’d just make me feel worse.’”^[1]

I think of that woman when I hear our Gospel reading for today. I think about everyone who has experienced the pain of divorce and then more pain when they’ve been judged and excluded by the church. I think about all of us who feel shame about our choices and thoughts and the brokenness in our lives.

Really Jesus? I want to say. We already feel terrible about ourselves, this just makes things worse.

Yet, then I remember what Jesus was all about in this passage – this passage that’s part of his larger Sermon on the Mount that we’ve been hearing all month. Minister and author, Debie Thomas, has reminded me what Jesus is doing in his sermon and her insights have really helped me to understand this passage.^[2]

In his Sermon on the Mount, Jesus isn’t giving warnings about morality to a bunch of individuals.

That’s often how we hear it as 21st Century Americans who’ve been shaped to approach every- thing in an individualistic way. If we imagine that Jesus is lecturing individuals about morality, we hear his words as just harsh admonitions to shape up and try to get everyone else out there to shape up, too.

Yet, Jesus is doing something else in his Sermon on the Mount. He’s speaking to the whole group of his disciples, including us, and calling forth a new community.

Jesus is calling forth a community that will know we are blessed by God through all the trials of life, as we heard in the first part of his sermon, the beatitudes; a community that will know we have been blessed by God to be a blessing to the world; that will know we are the salt of the earth and the light of the world even when we don’t feel like it, as we heard last week.

This week it becomes clear that Jesus is calling forth “a community meant to initiate a radical way of doing life on the earth, a community Jesus trusts will follow in his footsteps, and [bring] divine love to a world hungry for hope and healing.”^[3]

In his instructions that we hear today, Jesus seeks to shape this community so that we can most fully experience God’s blessing of life and well-being, and most fully bless the world.

He instructs all of us disciples to take relationships with one another very seriously; to “go beyond the bare minimum of civility and morality, and live together with the deepest respect, integrity, and love.”^[4]

Jesus says it isn’t enough to just avoid murdering. We should practice kindness and speak well of each other. We shouldn’t let anger consume us. We should seek reconciliation.

It isn’t enough to just avoid adultery. Instead, we’re called to honor the dignity of all people so that we don’t objectify others and view them as ways to satisfy our physical desires. And as Thomas points out, we’re called to “help others succeed in marriages and relational commitments, instead of making those vows even harder to fulfill.” We’re called to “encourage each other in holy living, not holy as in stiff, boring, lifeless, and prudish, but holy as in whole, abundant, faithful, and life- giving.”^[5]

And even when marital relationships come to an end, as they sometimes must, Jesus says we shouldn’t treat people as disposable – that we should be concerned for the welfare of the most vulnerable. This was especially true in Jesus’ day when women were considered the property of their husbands and men could easily dispose of their wives with a simple note of divorce. This left women in desperate straits. Jesus wants something different. “In the beloved community Jesus is shaping, he says we each have a responsibility to uphold each other’s dignity as [siblings] in Christ — even when our relationships as spouses or partners come to an end.”^[6]

Finally, Jesus calls us to keep our promises and not deceive, connive or manipulate each other so that no one needs to say “I swear” if they want to be trusted. He calls us to be mindful that everything we say is spoken in the presence of God and to honor one another by speaking honestly.

Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount is not about making people feel worse. It is about God’s care for us and this hurting world. God wants the woman who came to Philip Yancey to know how much she is loved and valued. God wants the beloved community to live in ways that allow for her dignity to be honored, for the dignity of all people to be honored.

God’s abiding care for us is why God gives us commandments, why Jesus intensifies them in his sermon. As we heard in the reading from Deuteronomy, God’s commandments are given so that we can live well together and be a blessing to the world.

But what happens when we don’t live out God’s commandments? Does God condemn us to hell?

The references to hell in Jesus’ sermon seem more descriptive than prescriptive. If we live with anger, insulting others and calling them fools, we create hell on earth. If we let lust control us, we feed a fire that can become all-consuming. If we ignore the dignity of others, we experience the hell of being cut off from community.

When we don’t live out God’s commandments, it does make God unhappy, but not because God is angry, wrathful and intent on punishing. Rather, God is unhappy because God loves us and wants our lives and relationships to be whole and well and nourishing.

God also longs for a relationship with us. And God chooses to be in relationship, no matter how often we turn from God’s ways.

In many ways, commandments and Jesus’ interpretation of them can drive us into relationship with God. They can show us how much we fall short of what God intends for us and how much we need to be forgiven, how much we need God’s help. They can shape us into a community that practices reconciliation and humility rather than self-righteousness and judgment. Whenever we’re tempted to think we’re better than someone who murders, someone who has turned to prostitution, Jesus’ words here remind us that we are all in need of forgiveness and mercy. And thanks be, God showers that upon us each week as we gather at the table.

Here we are reminded that we are all beggars in need of the bread of life. Here that bread is given freely so that we might know we are beloved. Here that bread is given freely to shape us into a community that can bless a world hungry for hope and healing.

Let’s take a moment for silent prayer.

^[1] Yancey, Philip. What’s So Amazing About Grace Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1997

^[2] Thomas, Debie. “Journey with Jesus” blogpost, posted February 9, 2020. https://www.journeywithjesus.net/lectionary-essays/current-essay?id=2525

^[3] Ibid.

^[4] Ibid.

^[5] Ibid.

^[6] Ibid.

Fifth Sunday after Epiphany
Good Shepherd Lutheran Church
Decorah, Iowa
Pastor Marion Pruitt-Jefferson

Gospel: Matthew 5:13-20

Beloved of God, Grace and Peace to you from our savior, Jesus Christ.

A very long time ago I worked in the kitchen at a Lutheran Bible camp. One morning it was my turn to make the oatmeal. I got out the huge pot, poured in however many gallons of water you need to make oatmeal for a hundred people, and when it was boiling I added the oats. Just as we were about to begin serving the campers, the head cook came by and gave it a tasting. Then, she looked at me with displeasure and said, “You forgot the salt. It just doesn’t taste right without the salt.” Really??? Just a little salt in that huge pot of oatmeal makes that big of a difference?

Sometimes little things make all the difference.

In the pre-electric world, darkness was the norm. Light was modest and surrounded by great darkness. A single lamp, set on a stand, illuminated an entire room. In our modern world, where light is available at the flip of a switch 24/7, we rarely have the experience of complete darkness. But all it takes is one power outage for us to remember that even a single candle can transform a dark room.

Jesus says to us: YOU are the light of the world; YOU are the salt of the earth. It’s interesting that Jesus didn’t say: You are a great big army, marching into the world. OR, You are a giant loudspeaker put up in the marketplace to shout my message to everyone. A dash of salt … A single candle … In the economy of God’s reign, little things make all the difference.

We are living in difficult times. There are powerful political, social and cultural forces at work in our country, and in the world, that defy the core values that we as followers of Jesus hold dear. Truth is called a witch hunt. Scientifically verifiable facts are called a hoax. Cruelty, hatred and bigotry are upheld as patriotism. The poor, the refugee, the hungry, the mentally ill, the disabled are decried as losers – as free-loaders who are gaming the system. People of color – even people who were born and raised here – are told to “go back where they came from.” Families and little children fleeing violence and fearing for their lives are called criminals, held in deplorable
conditions, denied justice, and sent away. And, even more distressing is that a large swath of folks who claim to be followers of Jesus, who identify as Christians, subscribe to these viewpoints – and do so with great passion.

And I can’t speak for you, but there are days when I feel powerless to make a difference. It seems like all the postcards, phone calls, letters, vigils, marches and emails are just so much shouting into the wind. And when those feelings of powerlessness take hold, it isn’t long until I feel paralyzed by despair and hopelessness. I am just too small, too insignificant, to be effective.

Then Jesus – the savior of the world, the crucified and risen one, the One in whom and through whom all things came into being, the very Word of God in human flesh – that same Jesus steps up and says: You, yes you, Marion – who is not famous, or influential, or rich – you are the salt of the earth. You, yes you, Good Shepherd Lutheran Church – a small congregation in a little neighborhood, in a small town, in a remote corner of a rural state – you are the light of the world. I have called you by name, I have filled you with my Spirit and because of that, you are who I say you are – and you are enough.

And then I listen to Paul preaching to the church in Corinth – proclaim- ing the power of God revealed in Jesus’ death on the cross. Paul says: I came to you proclaiming the mystery of God, not in lofty words or wisdom, but in Jesus Christ and him crucified. And I remember that we are called to take up our cross and follow Jesus, which does not look or feel like POWER – at least not in the way the world names power. It is the way of self-emptying – that in the mystery of God is the way that leads to fullness of life.

And from Isaiah, I hear God spelling out in detail what that way looks like: To loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, to share your bread with the hungry, to clothe the naked and to bring the homeless into your own home.

And I hear Jesus say to us, “In everything Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. This is the fulfilling of the laws and the prophets.”

Last week at our annual meeting, we heard a lot about how we, together, are being salt and light in our community and in the world. From prayer shawls to post cards, from youth retreats, to visiting our elders, each portion takes its place in the combined ministry of Good Shepherd.

One way we will continue this ministry is by our participation in The Golden Rule 2020 Initiative: A Call for dignity and respect in Politics. Golden Rule 2020 is a nationwide effort to live out Jesus’ teaching to “Do unto others as we would have them do unto us” and to specifically embody that in our political and issue-based conversations with others. Our presiding bishop, Elizabeth Eaton, along with 16 other faith leaders, signed a letter of intent, saying: We all have an important role to play to help heal our nation, increase understanding of each other, and bridge our divisions. The initiative invites us to pray regularly for the healing of divisions in our country and to practice the Golden Rule in our political discussions. It’s a small thing – one person, speaking with another, listening with empathy to seek understand- ing and make connections. I know I’d like to have the power of a giant media corporation to blast this message into people’s homes, or an army of bots flooding people’s social media with compelling messages about the Golden Rule. But what we have is us- each individual, each congregation – little by little, living out Christ’s command to do unto others as we would have them do unto us. And much more importantly, what we have now and will always have is God with us, God for us. We are called to trust that through our ordinary, humble lives God will do what the wisdom and power of this world can never do – and that is to bring the healing, saving, trans- formative power of God to all creation.

A dash of salt, a tiny flame, a single conversation – these are the small things that God uses to bring about God’s reign of justice, mercy, and joy. And here at this table, just a little morsel of bread and a sip of wine, is our Great Thanksgiving Feast. No one would even call it a meal, much less a feast; but for us, it is food that we cannot live without. It is our Lord’s Supper, the Feast of Victory, the Foretaste of the Heavenly Banquet. In this little meal we receive that Bread that is Life so that we can go out and share our bread with the hungry. Here we receive the wine that overflows with mercy so that we can go out and share that mercy in an unforgiving world. In this meal, God feeds us with the body and blood of Jesus – the true light, the light which no darkness can overcome – so that we can go out and be a light for the world.

Fourth 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.

Who do you picture when you hear the word blessed?

Often, we think about those who have a lot going for them. People are said to be “blessed with good looks, with smarts, with natural abilities.”

On social media, the word blessed often accompanies pictures of extravagant cars and fancy vacations.

In the images and popular speak of our day, blessed are the beautiful people, the lucky people, those on top of their game.

It’d be quite surprising to hear someone say, “I’m really poor in spirit and depressed, what a blessing.” “I’m so meek, people walk all over me, wow am I blessed.”

You’ll rarely see Facebook posts that read, “Feeling blessed to have yet another chance to show mercy to someone who hurt me” or, “Longing for righteousness here, getting pretty hungry and thirsty for it actually – quite a blessing.”

The people that Jesus says are blessed are not who you’d expect in our day or in his day. Jesus calls blessed those who are hurting, long suffering, passionate for righteousness, striving for peace and persecuted for doing the right thing.

Notice – These types of people all have one thing in common. They are all identified by pain – by their own pain or by their engagement with the world’s pain. They are not the well-off, the wealthy, the lucky. They are those marked by pain. And, Jesus says they are blessed.

We are so often uncomfortable with pain. It’s hard to get close to it. We have all sorts of strategies to deal with pain: avoid it, ignore it, sweep it under the rug, explain it away, just put on a happy face.

Yet Jesus doesn’t let us do that. In his Sermon on the Mount, Jesus directs our attention to the places of pain and struggle, to those wrestling with it all. He says look at them: God has chosen to bless and honor and love them. God has chosen to be identified with the pain of the world.

This is radical – often we think suffering means we have been abandoned by God. People and places scarred by pain are often described as godforsaken. When things are going well, we think God has blessed us; when things fall apart, we don’t know what to think about God. Jesus teaches us that God has chosen to bless and be with those who face suffering, that God has chosen to be in pain. Jesus teaches this and then shows it by his death on the cross.

In the cross we see that God has entered the pain of the world. God has chosen not to avoid or
minimize suffering, but to fully engage it for the healing of all creation. Now, still, we see God most clearly and consistently amidst suffering – in the hospital room, the funeral home, the war zone, the refugee camp, the detention center.

Many of us have found that to be true in our own lives. We’ve known God’s presence most fully in times of grief or when we are walking with people who are in need. We’ve cried out, “Where are you God?” and find, in time, that God is right there with us. God is in the pain working healing and new life.

We can’t always see that, we rarely can feel it, but God is there. God’s presence is the blessing we all need; it is the blessing we are given in Christ Jesus.

When we see that God is in pain, this gives us an important way to view and engage the world.

Rather than seeing the needs of our neighbors as a nuisance or something to be pitied, we can
recognize that need is a place to meet God and join God.

Rather than feeling overwhelmed by the pain of the world, we can trust that God is at work in the suffering and that God gives us what we need to join that work. Rather than offering charity be- cause we are so blessed and should give to those less fortunate, we can be present with people in need, yearning together for the blessing of God’s healing presence.

This is how we become pure in heart, merciful peacemakers who hunger and thirst for righteous- ness. This is how we do justice, love kindness and walk humbly with God. This is how we live out our mission as a congregation – by entering into the pain of the world.

Being present is the most important thing we can do for those who are suffering. It’s how we can offer a blessing to them, how we help make God’s blessing to them known.

Author Jan Richardson makes this clear in words of blessing she wrote after the sudden death of her husband, titled “The Blessing You Should Not Tell Me.” It speaks to what we most need from each other at any time of sorrow and grief. She writes:

Do not tell me
this will make me
more compassionate,
more loving.
more holy.

Do not tell me
this will make me
more grateful for what
I had.

Do not tell me
I was lucky.

Do not even tell me
there will be a blessing.

Give me instead
the blessing
of breathing with me.

Give me instead
the blessing
of sitting with me
when you cannot think
of what to say …

If you could know
what grace lives
in such a blessing
you would never cease to offer it.

If you could glimpse
the solace and sweetness
that abide there,
you would never wonder
if there was a blessing
you could give
that would be better
than this—
the blessing of
your own heart
opened
and beating
with mine.

We can be present for one another and with one another because God is with us, with you, in Christ Jesus.

Because God is with us, we can sing the words of Julian of Norwich who wrote, “All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.” This past week, the Blairs sang this around their beloved Ben’s deathbed as they awaited the time when Ben would donate his organs to others.

Today, we, too, can join them in singing for ourselves and for all creation. Because we are blessed by God’s presence, all shall be well.

Let’s take a moment for silent prayers.