Year: 2017

Luke 2:1-20

Christmas Eve 2017

It is as if time is standing still here on this most holy of nights, the night of our dear Savior’s birth.  All that has been, all that there is, and all that will be converge on this night in this place.  We are transported to Bethlehem, with Mary and Joseph.  In the dark of the night sky, the stars sparkle brightly.  They look to be so close that you think you could reach out and grab them.   The baby Jesus is soon to be wrapped up tight, and sleeping in the manger. All is calm, all is bright.  Right now, right here, this night is perfect.  Maybe.

When we got into our car tonight to come to church, a lot came with us.  Our thanksgivings, our hopes and dreams jumped into the car when we opened the door.  Perhaps it is the excitement about gathering with family, or the dream of a hoped-for gift.  Some of us bring more than that.  We also bring our burdens that we carry with us almost everywhere we go.  Grief can be a constant companion, especially during the Christmas season.  I am certain that when we put our coat on to come to church, it went over top of concerns about medical insurance and money.  We stuffed into our pockets our worries about our loved ones.  When we parked the car, we had hoped to shut the door on broken relationships, if only for an hour. Tonight, memories of Christmases past showed up, for good or for bad.  And then there are our expectations and hopes for Christmas.  What did you bring with you tonight?

A friend of mine posted on FaceBook her hopes for Christmas.  She writes:

Every Christmas you always hear people saying what they want and bought. Well this is what I want: I want sick people to be cured. I want children with no families to be adopted and parents who want babies to be blessed with them. I want people to never have to worry about food, shelter, & heat. And cliché or not, I want world peace, too.[1]

Perhaps this is why we come tonight, if only for an hour, to a place where all is calm, and all is bright.  We come to live out, if only for an evening, peace on earth and mercy mild.  But the trouble is that all those things that we carry around with us didn’t stay outside in the parking lot when we came through the church door.

We came through those doors with both thanksgivings and sorrows.  We come on this holy night to hear the story of God among us.  But while Luke’s telling of Jesus’ birth looks like the front of a Hallmark Christmas card, Luke left out the messy details.  Truth be told, while we envision our Lord and Savior quietly fast asleep, at some point he woke up cold and hungry, and this holy baby’s cries were loud enough to for the shepherds to find him.  I picture Mary, who had just given birth, without any pain relief measures, and lying on cold, stiff hay which was poking her in her back, turning to Joseph and saying in that voice he dreaded, “This is YOUR hometown.  Where are all your friends?  Where is your family?  Why couldn’t they put us up for the night?”  And then she began to cry.  Poor Joseph—all he wanted to do was to comfort his baby and his wife, but he felt responsible for their circumstances and so he, too, began to sob.  The sounds of everyone crying were not in harmony with the donkeys’ braying and the sheep’s baa-ing.   It was anything but quiet that night.

This is the birth of the holy child, born in flesh and blood, both wholly human and wholly divine.  This is the babe in the manger, the King of Kings, who, with his borning cry, smelled the sheep and heard the cows moo.  In this low estate, with chickens clucking and goats chewing, came our savior, called Emmanuel, God is with us, in the middle of the noise and things that poke us in the back.

Theologian Edmund Steimle writes,  “For what other message on Christmas Eve is worth listening to?  What peace?  What hope?  If it is simply a forgetting—when we can’t forget, really—then we’re reducing the Christmas story to a bit of nostalgia and indulging ourselves in the sentimental orgy that Christmas has become for so many, or we are reduced to the deep depression that grips so many others on Christmas Eve.”[2]

How did we get here, writing on FaceBook about our desire for a perfect world and at the same time, celebrating God’s birth in Jesus’ human flesh?  When God hung the stars in night sky, and sent water crashing onto shores, when God orchestrated the dance of the peacock and the ballet of the platypuses, God declared it good.  When God created male and female in God’s image, God blessed them.  On that sixth day, God saw everything he had made, and indeed, it was very good.[3]

And then came Adam and Eve, formed in God’s own image, Cain and Abel, David and Bathsheba, and all our fears and jealousies, our prejudices, our egos. Our sin rose up.  But God responded with grace and mercy. When God’s people were enslaved in Egypt, God led them out of bondage into freedom, even providing bread for them on their journey.  Through Moses and the Ten Commandments, God again entered into a covenant to help us live as God’s people.  God spoke to us through the prophets, telling us what is, and what God wants things to be.  God’s grace is given to us over and over again.   And we broke our part of the covenant over and over again.

Then God sent his son. On this holy night, In the town of Bethlehem, the Son of God, was born of Mary to be among us.  The one whom through our sins are forgiven comes with flesh and blood, and tears and crying. God was willing to risk everything for us, that we might know how much God loves us.

This most amazing event, this first Christmas morning, in that little town, tells every one in every place, and in every time, that it is God’s will to come to us, to be with us.  To be with us in our living and our dying, in our hunger and in our feasts.   God is enfleshed in the middle of all that is sweet, and I all that is sorrowful, to be with us in birth and death, and love and heartbreak.  Jesus was born to be here with us tonight, in our praying and our singing.  To be present for us in a piece of bread and a sip of wine.

God promises there will be a time when there will be no famine, no war and no tears.  My friend’s prayers for Christmas, for healing, for the blessing of children and families, for the homeless and the needy will come to pass, for God has given us that promise. But until then, it is here, now, in the midst of our fleshy mess, that God choses to meet us in Christ Jesus. Through this baby, God blesses broken hearts, and newly found love, the birth of newborns and the loss of partners.  Through this child, laying in swaddling cloths in the manger, God is present in our goodbyes, and our hellos, in our marriage and separation, and in our healing and reconciliations.  God is with us in the middle of our wars and our peace.  Through this holy child, we are given hope, and the resilience of our human spirit.

God did this extraordinary thing in a most ordinary manner and in a most ordinary place. And perhaps that’s central to the message of why we gather and celebrate tonight – that this God, who is beyond anything we could imagine, is bound up with our everyday ordinary lives. There is no place too nasty, too painful or too sinful for the grace of our Lord to enter.  There is no darkness that exists which can overcome the light of Christ.  Christ is in the midst of it all, making all things holy in his name, and giving us peace that the world cannot give.

And so, we come here on this holy night, waiting to hear the sound of the newborn baby’s cry among the bray of the goats, and the beating of our hearts.  We come in darkness, to bathe in the light of Christ, and to sing with the angels. Thanks be to God.

~Pastor Cheryl Ann Griffin

[1] Used by permission.

[2] Edmund Steimle, “The Eye of the Storm.”  Chorus of Witnesses. Grand Rapids:  William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1994.  241.

[3] Genesis 1:31

 

John 1:6-8, 19-2 8     Advent 3

She was in fifth grade at Sunrise Elementary school in Colorado.  Ashwanty Davis had big brown eyes, and a subtle smile.  She hoped to grow up to become a Women’s National Basketball star. Some didn’t see her as the person she was, and Ashwanty would have to endure their bullying.  When she had enough, she confronted one of the girls who were taunting her.  Someone took a video of the encounter, and it ended up on social media.  As views of the video increased, so did the bullying.  ‘“My daughter came home two weeks later and hanged herself in the closet,”’ her mother said.[1]  This little girl, who has been described as a child of joy, spent two weeks on life support before she died.  Ashwanty Davis was victim of “bullycide.”  Suicide after being bullied is so common now that we have a word for it.

There were witnesses to the fight.  The person who videotaped it and uploaded it onto the internet was a witness.  All those who watched it were witnesses, too.  Some of those people testified to what they saw by taunting Ashwanty even more.  They testified to darkness, tormenting her until she could no longer see the light.

We are witnesses every day.  We see and hear and experience things that impact others on a daily basis.  On these cold winter days, we see people walking on the street carrying everything they own because they have no permanent home in which to keep them.  We hear people telling jokes that demean a particular race or religion. This week, I read about someone who needs to choose between paying rent and paying health insurance.  How does our faith impact our witness?

Flip Wilson, when asked about his religious affiliation, said, “I am a Jehovah’s Bystander.  They wanted me to become a Jehovah’s Witness, but I don’t want to get involved.”  How does our faith impact our witness?  Our witness put into words and deeds is our testimony.  As one professor reminds us, witness and testimony are terms that come from the legal sphere, and are used when something or someone comes to trial.[2]  Witnesses are put on the stand to testify to the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.  Perjury, bearing false witness, is not only against the law, it is against God’s commands.  Bearing false witness is a sin.  Luther explains in the Large Catechism the fullness of the eighth commandment:

No one shall use the tongue to harm a neighbor, whether a friend or foe.  No one shall say anything evil of a neighbor, whether true or false, unless it is done with proper authority or for that person’s improvement.  RATHER, we should use our tongue to speak only the best about all people, to cover the sins and infirmities of our neighbors, to justify their actions, and to cloak and veil them with our honor.  Our chief reason for doing this is the one that Christ has given in the gospel, and in which he means to encompass all the commandments concerning our neighbor, “In everything do to others as you would have them do to you.” [285-286].

To what does your witness testify?  Or are you a bystander, afraid to get involved?  What would have happened if those who witnessed Ashwanty being bullied testified to the light of Christ’s love?

Jan Richardson writes:

…the light comes as a vivid reminder that we have, at the least, the power to help illuminate the path for each other.  It matters that we hold the light for one another.  It matters that we bear witness to the Light that hold us all, that we testify to this Light that shines its infinite love and mercy on us across oceans, across border, across time….  Blessed are you who bear the light in unbearable times, who testify to its endurance amid the unendurable, who bear witness to its persistence when everything seems in shadow and grief.[3]

There was a man sent from God, whose name was John.  He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him.  He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light.  As the Gospel of John explains, Jesus is the true light, the one who creates and maintains life.  This light of Christ comes as God’s presence sitting at the bedside of someone we love.  The light of Christ comes as a friend who will see us through dark times.  The light of Christ stirs our hearts to speak out for those who have no voice.  The light of Christ illumines a path we did not even know existed.  The light of Christ brings hope.

Our witness and testimony are based on what ultimately matters–Jesus’ witness and testimony to us, for us, about us.  In the legal court language of witness and testimony, Jesus’ birth, his life, death, and resurrection will find us guilty, and declare that we are forgiven.  In this season of Advent, as we wait for Jesus to be born and for Christ to come again, live in this sure and certain hope.  Live in this light.  Witness it.  Testify to it.

There are people, sent from God, whose names are Sue and Bob, Sandy, Linda, Jane, Paul, Alan, your name and mine.

~Pastor Cheryl Ann Griffin

[1] https://www.theroot.com/10-year-old-girl-killed-herself-after-video-of-fight-wi-1820887617  web accessed December 13, 2017.

[2] Long, Thomas.  Testimony: Talking Ourselves into Being Christian.  San Francisco:  Jossey-Bass, 2004.  28.

[3] http://adventdoor.com/2014/12/12/advent-3-testify-to-the-light/ accessed December 13, 2017.

Isaiah 40:1-11   Mark 1:1-8    

Advent 2

 Location, location, location.  We hear that expression when we are searching for a place to settle into so that we can renew our souls, a place to honker down when the snow comes, a place to build a life, a home.  Location is important because the context informs and contributes to our understanding.  You know more about a person when you find out if they grew up in Boston or in Gloucester, and if that was during the Great Depression or the Vietnam war.  Both geographical and historical location are worth paying attention to in scripture.

Our reading from Isaiah this morning comes after a long time of turmoil.  Israel and Judah were constantly at odds over theological and social issues.  Conflicts arose among Israel, Judah, Syria and Assyria. Assyria took control of Judah, the southern kingdom, and destroyed the capital of Israel, bringing the northern kingdom to an end.   In 597 and 587 BCE, the Babylonians destroyed Jerusalem and took its people captive.  The destruction of Jerusalem was seen as God’s judgment on Israel’s sins.  People’s homes, their neighbors, their church and their favorite restaurants were gone. Now they were living in a foreign land with a different language and strange food.  It felt like being in the wilderness.  The prophets had warned them of the consequences of their behavior, but their ears were shut.  The results of their sin were catastrophic, and they had no one to blame but themselves.

Into their state of hopelessness, God speaks, Comfort, O comfort my people.  God will bring them home.  Their exile will be over. This time, instead of warning,  the prophet’s voice cries out:  “In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God.”   The uneven ground shall become level, and the rough places a plane.  Then the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all the people shall see it together. 

About 500 years later, Jews would revolt against their Roman oppressors, and the temple of Solomon would be destroyed. Into this place and time, the prophet John stood in the wilderness and cried out,  ‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight…’  The words of comfort spoken into the wilderness exile through Isaiah are echoed.

Wilderness is a place and time of destruction.  It is a place where we are left feeling that life is out of our control, and a place blind to all hope.  Do you know that feeling?  Have you listened to the news this year?  The highlights of 2017 are chilling.  Fear of “the other” pervades the reported stories.  Racism and prejudice continue to be acted out in Charlottesville, and in places across the country.  This is the year of the deadliest mass shootings in the United States, and yet there is no ban on equipment that turns a gun into an assault weapon.  Fear of a nuclear weapon attack from North Korea looms in the background.  Media coverage of sexual misconduct now dominates the news.

On December 12, there will be an election in Alabama for a U. S. Senator.  One of the candidates has had nine women claim sexual assault.  One of those women says she was 14 years old at the time.  Roy Moore denies all allegations.  He remains a strong candidate for senator.  Time Magazine’s person of the year this year are all the women who have spoken up about sexual misconduct.  Exposing these violations of the powerless is a good thing! But swept up into the chaos of allegations, we find guilty people who are exempt from condemnation, and innocent people who are condemned.

We have witnessed power that takes, dominates and inflicts abuse that denies dignity to God’s creation.  It is even scarier when those who act on their dominance of the powerless and their hatred of “the other”  profess faith in God.  We are in a place of despair, and a place of fear.  In the discomfort of our wilderness, God speaks to us through an unconventional man dressed in camel’s hair and eating locusts.  A prophet who proclaims a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.

The first words in Mark’s gospel are this:  The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.  The good news of Jesus Christ begins with God’s messenger crying out in the wilderness.  This prophet was John the baptizer who came preaching repentance.  John makes it clear that the good news of Jesus is connected to repentance.

As bad as the events have been this year in our country, it is time to stop pointing fingers everywhere but in the mirror.  It is time to stop calling bad behavior mistakes, and recognize for what it is–sin.  The road that prepares us for Christ is confession.  While we desire redemption without judgment, it is when we confess our sin that we can accept God’s forgiveness.  It is when we admit we are broken that we begin to be healed.  It is when we realize that we cannot save ourselves that we look for our savior, who comes to us as a baby.

If the beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the son of God starts with our repentance, then the good news is God’s presence with us in our sin.  Not just our sin, but the sins of the world.  God’s power lies not in God’s controlling, but in God’s ability to stay with us despite our attempts to ignore and even push God away.  The good news is that our God comes to us as a baby in human flesh.  God enters into our sinful world of mass shootings, and sexual assaults, and hatred of blacks and Muslims.

Jesus Christ, the son of God, not only comes to us in our wilderness, our exile, but stays with us in our pain, and our anger, and our tears, and our sin.  The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ will unfold into a God who knows vulnerability, suffering, and death on a cross. The good news of Jesus Christ will unfold into life that comes from death.  For we who are in the wilderness, and for we who are in exile, this is the beginning of the good news.  In 2017, what better news is there than this?

~Pastor Cheryl Ann Griffin

 

 

 

 

Matthew 25:1-13    

Time After Pentecost Lectionary 32

A bridegroom who doesn’t show up when expected, and who seems to be suffering from amnesia, a wedding party who falls asleep, selfish but wise bridesmaids, and a door that slams shut—that’s our gospel this day. And while we hear about the bridegroom and the bridesmaids, there is no mention of a bride. I would be less than honest if I said that the meaning of our Gospel reading for today was crystal clear. When I asked one of my colleagues how he was approaching this text, he said he changed the reading for the day. And I am the one who made our preaching schedule.

There were ten bridesmaids, five foolish ones and five wise ones.  The wise ones apparently had been through Scout training; they knew how to be prepared.  They brought extra oil for their lamps, just in case.  The foolish ones brought lamps, but never thought that they would be waiting in the dark for such a long time.  All ten of them were waiting.  And waiting. And waiting.  Then everyone, both the wise and the foolish, fell asleep.

Finally, the bridegroom showed up, and the wedding party woke up.  But by that time, half of the bridesmaids’ lamps had gone out because they had run out of oil.  The other half refused to share their reserves, saying that there was not enough for everyone.    They told those foolish ones to go buy some of their own.  But it was midnight, after all, and these were the days before Wal-Mart was open for 24/7.  Maybe these five were called foolish because they left to go to the store anyway.

Because they were not there, they missed the arrival of the groom. While they looking for a store that was open at midnight, the wise bridesmaids went into the wedding banquet with the bridegroom.  After they went in to the party, the door was shut.  We don’t know who it was who closed the door, but when the bridesmaids who had gone shopping returned, they were locked out.  Our parable concludes, Keep awake therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour.  But remember that all of the bridesmaids, both the wise ones and the foolish ones, had fallen asleep.

The confusion continues when we remember that in Matthew’s gospel, right before Jesus’ arrest, he went to Gethsemane to pray, and he took Peter, James and John with him.  After his prayer, he found them sleeping (26:40).  What’s more, in Matthew’s gospel, we have heard Jesus say, Do not store up treasures for yourselves on earth (6:19), but the wise bridesmaids did just that.  Maybe oil was an exception?  When the five foolish ones knocked on the door, the bridegroom said, “I don’t know you.”  But Jesus says in Matthew’s gospel, Ask and it shall be given you, search, and you will find, knock, and the door will be opened for you (7:7).  Maybe this doesn’t hold true if you are late?  In everything, Jesus told us, do to others as you would have them do to you (7:12a).  Tell that to the other bridesmaid and the bridegroom!

This story does not sound like the Jesus I know.  The Jesus I know fed over five thousand people who had come unprepared to eat dinner.  He went in search of the one sheep who left the group.  He threw a party for the son who came back home after squandering everything.

Not to mention, this story sounds stressful, full of urgency, and at the same time full of waiting.  How do you feel about waiting, especially as everywhere gets more crowded as we approach the holidays?  Waiting takes up 10 years of our lives, according to one estimate.[1]  Have you ever been to the DMV?  Or recently driven on Interstate 64 through the construction?

Always being prepared sounds just as stressful.  How many times have you forgotten something?  How often have you run out of milk, or paper towels, or have anxiously looked for the nearest gas station because that little orange gas pump-shaped light has come on in your car? Have you ever come close to running out of fuel?

Wait, and be prepared, we hear. What differentiates the five wise ones from the five foolish ones is that the wise ones had oil for their lamps, and the foolish ones didn’t.  It’s the oil that makes the difference.  But maybe the foolish bridesmaids did not have more oil because they couldn’t afford it.  Maybe they were among the poor, the ones Jesus tells us to help.  Or maybe they had shared their oil with someone in need.  We don’t know why they didn’t bring more with them.  So maybe the why is not what’s important.

Wait and be prepared.  It’s going to take everything you’ve got. If you want to get into the banquet, don’t share your oil. This, too, doesn’t sound quite like Jesus to me.  So, it seems that this oil is something that can’t be shared.  This oil provides fuel for your lamp, for your light.  Ah!  Remember?  Jesus said, You are the light of the world (Matthew 5:14a). This is the light, fueled by oil we cannot borrow.   While we can give love away, we cannot borrow a relationship. Our relationship and our engagement with Christ must be our own.  Our love for God has to be ours, given to us through the Hoy Spirit.[2]

Our parable reminds us not to put off spending time with Jesus.  Our good intentions will not substitute for an active relationship with God through Christ now.   Our relationship is fueled by prayer, study, worship and being together in community.  Our plans to engage with God tomorrow will not help when we unexpectedly need to draw on God today.

In our baptism, a candle is lit from the Paschal candle.  We are given the light of Christ, and these words are said:  Let your light so shine before others that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven.  ln hope and trust, we reflect God’s love.  Our light shows the world that God’s mercy and grace will prevail.  When the Kingdom comes, God’s justice will roll down like waters, and righteousness like an everflowing stream (Amos 5:24). When people are senselessly murdered, or suffer abuse, when corruption invades our institutions, when the darkness creeps in, may our light spread God’s light to the world.  Light will overcome darkness.  As we wait, be prepared, Jesus tells us.

At the end of our parable, the foolish bridesmaids finally come, wanting to enter the wedding banquet. Open the door, they plead. Notice that the bridegroom does not say no.  The bridegroom answers them, Truly, I tell you, I do not know you.  I believe that as he said that, tears were streaming down his face.

~Pastor Cheryl Ann Griffin

[1] http://www.tesh.com/articles/the-average-person-will-spend-10-years-standing-in-line-over-their-lifetime/e

[2] I give thanks to Anna Carter Florence and to Debbie Blue for their insights into this text.

Matthew 5:1-13    

All Saints Day

The word “blessed” is used in different forms, all of them with nuanced meanings. “You are truly blessed.” “You have my blessings.”  “Have a blessed day!”  Those who are mathematically inclined say, “Count your blessings.”  When I moved to the South, I learned the real meaning of, “Bless your heart,” and its more emphatic form, “Bless your little heart!”

In the spirit of blessing, a friend just shared with me an article about a new priest in the town of Wittenberg.  To mark the anniversary of the Reformation, the Protestant church has engaged a robot named “BlessU-2.”  The mechanical priest delivers blessings in five languages AND beams light from its hands.  They explain, “’We wanted people to consider if it is possible to be blessed by a machine, or if a human being is needed.’”[1]  I have no comment.

Today we hear Jesus’ version of blessings.  Blessed are the poor in spirit, and blessed are the meek.  On this All Saints Sunday, we hear blessed are those who mourn.  We began our service by naming loved ones who have died in this past year, and this afternoon we will commend Dan Stimson to the mercy of God. Today is a day when we grieve collectively. There is blessing in that.  Grief can be so raw that some may feel that mourning and blessed don’t belong in the same sentence.

Although grief is an unwanted companion who shows up uninvited, mourning the death of a loved one is normal.  But we sometimes forget that the losses we grieve come in many different shapes.  Losing someone to dementia is devastating.  It’s as if a dark shadow came and stole a part of the person.  The loss of our own health, children graduating, and moving out of our home into someplace new are endings, too. Retirement can be both a loss of self and of purpose.  What are the losses that you are grieving?

Blessed are those who mourn, Jesus says, while our culture tells us it was for the best, and to keep our chin up.  Blessed are the poor in spirit, and the meek and the merciful, Jesus says, while the world tells us we are blessed if we are strong and powerful.   We are blessed when we succeed, they say, but Jesus says we are blessed when we fail.   Exposing our vulnerability may not give us society’s approval, but it opens us up to experience God’s blessings.  In exposing our weakness, we discover God’s unconditional love. In our struggles and in our doubts, God calls us faithful.  Isn’t that just like Jesus to turn our world-view upside-down?

The Beatitudes help us to challenge our perspective and our understanding of blessedness.  They are descriptive, not prescriptive.  They state who we are. If you were to write your own beatitude, what would you say?  Blessed are you who are providing care for someone you love, for God will give you compassion for others.  Blessed are you who are struggling with addiction, for God will provide someone to walk the path of recovery with you.  Blessed are you who are scared, for God will not leave your side.  Blessed are you, …fill in the blank.

Today, we remember those who have completed their baptism. In affirming our own baptism, we participate in this upside-down kingdom of God. God sees creation, you and me, as so precious that its redemption is worthy dying for.  Our worship today sings out God’s promise that there is more to life and to death.   There is someone in your life, a saint living or dead, through whom you learned that, and that is why you are here today.  Someone promised in their baptism to proclaim the good news of God in Christ through what they say and through the things they do, with the help of God.  It is through Christ that their witness with their lives has drawn us here.

Blessed are you who have come this morning not feeling blessed, or loved, or worthy of God’s blessing.  We who are meek, and grieving, and doubtful are blessed, whether or not we feel that. We will all fall short, or simply fall, at one point.  Well, to be honest, more than once. The blessing is that in the community of faith, even as we fall, we hold on to each other, and Jesus is holding on to us.  The blessing is that God shows up in the middle of our muck and mire, just where you least expect God to be.  God’s blessings come unconditionally.  Blessed are you with mercy and grace, and the Easter promise of resurrection to new life.

~Pastor Cheryl Ann Griffin

[1] https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2017/may/30/robot-priest-blessu-2-germany-reformation-exhibition

Matthew 22:15-22    

Lectionary 29 ~ 20^th Sunday after Pentecost

They weren’t even friends!  The Pharisees and the Herodians couldn’t even agree on paying taxes! The Pharisees wanted to maintain separation from the Roman government, while the Herodians sought to collaborate with them.  It is said that “the enemy of my enemy is my friend.”  So the Pharisees and the Herodians came together to concoct a plan to discredit Jesus.

Showing Jesus a coin, they asked, “Is it lawful to pay taxes to the emperor, or not?” Looking at the coin used to pay the taxes, Jesus asked, “Whose head is this, and whose title?” Of course, it was the emperor’s.   “Give the emperor things that are the emperor’s, and to God the things that are God’s,” Jesus instructed.  Jesus knew their hearts.  He knew that there was malice in their question.  Their question was legalistic, just like their hearts.

God’s heart isn’t like that.  When Jesus said to give to God the things that are God’s, what the Pharisees and the Herodians did not realize is that everything is God’s.  All that we have is because God is generous.  Scripture tells us about God’s generosity and abundance right from the beginning.  God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light.  Calculations place the number of stars at 70 thousand million, million, million.   As many as this number of stars are the number of H2O molecule in just 10 drops of water. There are 1.4 billion cubic kilometers of water in our world. Those oceans, lakes and rivers are bordered 7 quintillion 5 hundred quadrillion grains of sand. Scientists calculate the existence of 370,000 species of flowering plants, and 30 million different species of animals. The average cat has about 40 million hairs, 30 million of which will end up on your furniture.  God’s generous abundance is revealed in the 5,140 trillion tons of air in our atmosphere.[1]

You may think some people are full of more hot air than others, but try this:  Breathe in a bit and hold it.  Breathe in some more, still holding your breath in.  Breathe in again.  Hold it.  Now let your breath out.  Feeling better now?  Taking in the air God gives us is wonderful.  But don’t you feel good when you give some back out into the world and stop holding it all?

We need to give away some of what we have been given. The in and out of breathing echoes the rhythm of life. Like breathing in and out, both receiving and are giving are necessary for wholeness.  Our breathing, and our receiving and our giving are holy matters.  (As a side note, for all of you who are wonderful at cooking meals for people in need, or building ramps to enable access, or any of the thousands of other things we do to help others, but won’t let others help you, know that you are denying someone else similar pleasure you get in giving and doing for others.)

Breathing in, and breathing out.  Like the waves of the ocean scrambling for the shore, and then pulling back, again and again and again. Like the sun coming up in the morning, and setting every night.  That’s part of God’s generosity today, and tomorrow, and the next.  Every day, over and over, without end.

Sometimes I forget how generous God really is, but then I come to worship.  I hear about the kingdom of heaven being like a treasure in a field, and like a pearl of great value.  I hear the story of Jesus feeding thousands upon thousands of people with only five loaves of bread and two fish, and healing people regardless of age, or gender, or race, or economic situation, or political affiliation.  I hear about Jesus extending God’s love and forgiveness to those whom society has condemned.  He broke social, religious and political norms enacting God’s generous love, and he was killed for it.

From the cross, Jesus said, “Father, forgive them.”  When we come to the Lord’s table, where Jesus is present in, under and through the bread and the wine, God’s love and forgiveness become a part of us. We are filled, like breathing in again and again. Breathe in so deeply that the abundance of God’s love and forgiveness poured out in Jesus pours out of us.

We are here in this community to hear, and see and taste and touch God’s love because of those who came before us and those among us.  Our community here has been built through generosity and gratitude. From the bricks in these walls to the to the finely tuned organ rejoicing through Karen’s gifts, it is through our gifts of ministry and money that we reflect God’s generosity.  Our calendars and our checkbooks bear witness to our gratitude for the gifts God has given us.

Through your generosity, we are able to respond to God’s call, and become part of God’s on-going story. With grace and abundance, we can shower those who will live in houses built through Habitat for Humanity. We provide hot meals to those with no permanent home, help with education costs for young people in Tanzania, and buy a tank of gas for a single mom whose work hours have been slashed in half.  We are able to provide space for families of the mentally ill and to those suffering from addiction and to their families so that they can learn and support one another through challenging times. These ministries, and more, require working heat, and roof that doesn’t leak, clean restrooms and someone to keep track of who is where and when.  We have come together to learn about our relationship with brothers and sisters in the Catholic faith.  It takes computers and paper and people to make that happen.

Thank you for your generosity.  Thank you for breathing in God’s love so deeply that when you let it out God’s love spreads among us here, and flows out in our community, and even around the world.

Today is Stewardship Sunday. Take a deep breath, and prayerfully consider how you will respond from your heart to God’s generosity in this coming year. As we read this morning in St. Paul’s letter to the Thessalonians, We always give thanks to God for all of you and mention you in our prayers, constantly remembering before our God and Father your work of faith and labor of love and steadfastness of hope in our Lord Jesus Christ.

~Pastor Cheryl Ann Griffin

[1] http://www.sciencealert.com/how-much-water-and-air-sustains-the-earth

 

 Matthew 21:33-46

Lectionary 27 ~ 18^th Sunday after Pentecost

Through knocked-out windows on the 32^nd floor of the Mandalay Bay Resort and Casino in Las Vegas, Stephen Paddock shot into a crowd of 22,000 concert goers.  It was only a week ago, on a Sunday night, that Paddock committed the deadliest mass shootings in the United States.  After putting what is known as a “bump fire stock” on his semi-automatic rifles so that they would shoot 9 rounds per second, 59 people were killed, and over 500 more were left injured. At least a dozen of the 23 firearms recovered were semiautomatic rifles legally modified to fire as automatic weapons.

While we count the number of dead, those who were shot are more than statistics. Steve, a 44-year-old financial advisor, husband, and father, was among those killed.  He was in Las Vegas to celebrate his birthday.  There was Michelle, who was the youngest of four siblings.  She loved to cheer for the Golden State Warriors.  Father and husband Christopher, a 28-year-old Navy veteran who handled dogs that searched for explosives, was the kind of person you could call in the middle of the night for help.  He was also killed in the rampage.[2] Fifty-six more men and women, who had people who loved them, died.

Our minds draw back to the mass shootings at The Pulse nightclub in Orlando, Virginia Tech in Blacksburg, and Sandy Hook Elementary school in Newtown, Connecticut.  C. S. Lewis says that grief accumulates.  May we not become so accustomed to acts of violence, be they shootings, domestic abuse, or violent crimes, that we fail to express our outrage and silence our lament.

You are not to kill, God tells us.  This is the fifth commandment.  Luther interprets this broadly.  He explains in the Large Catechism:

We must not kill, either by hand, heart, or word, by signs or gestures, or by aiding and abetting….The occasion and need for this commandment is that, as God well knows, the world is evil and this life is full of misery.  …We must live among many people who do us harm.[3]

There was a rich farmer who planted a vineyard.  Leaving behind farmhands to care and nurture the soil, and the vines, and the grapes, the owner went on a trip.  He sent someone to collect his profits, but the tenants beat him up.  The owner sent someone else, and the workers murdered that person.  Then they stoned the next.  Again and again this happened until the farmer sent his very own son.  “They will respect my son,” he thought, he hoped. But the tenants believed that they would get the inheritance that was due the son if the son were dead.  So they killed him, too.

After Jesus told this story, the religious leaders wanted to arrest him right then and there, but they feared the crowds, so they waited.  They ended up not only arresting Jesus.  They killed him.

In Jesus’ parable, the landowner expects the best from the tenants, over and over again, giving second chances, third chances, even fourth chances to do what is right.  Lord knows we need that many. As Luther expresses in his explanation of the fifth commandment, we kill “by hand, heart, or word, by signs or gestures, or by aiding and abetting.”  After we murdered Jesus, God did something only God can do.  God brought life out of death.  Jesus’ grave was empty.  On the third day, God raised him from the dead.  Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.[4]

God does not respond to violence with violence. God takes the consequences of violence in our world, and changes it.  God responds to death with life.  In the cross of Jesus, God does not respond to the worst we have to offer with vengeance.  God does not respond to violence with more violence.  God responds with light that overcomes darkness, love that overcomes hate, and   life that overcomes death.  Out of violence, Jesus brings peace.

Frederick Buechner writes:

The peace that Jesus offers…is a peace beyond the reach of the tragic and terrible.  It is a profound and inward peace that sees with unflinching clarity the tragic and terrible things that are happening and yet is not shattered by them.  It is a peace that looks out at the friends, whom he loves enough to be concerned for their troubled hearts than he is for his own, and yet his love for his friends is no more where his peace comes from than his impending torture and death are where his peace will be destroyed.  The place that his peace comes from is not the world but something whole and holy within himself, which sees the world also as whole and holy because deep beneath all the broken and unholy things that are happening in it, even as he speaks, Jesus sees what he calls the kingdom of God….To be whole is to see the world like that, as Jesus saw it…Sometimes even in the midst of our confused and broken relationships with ourselves, with each other, with God, we catch glimpses of that holiness and wholeness that is not ours by a long shot and yet is part of who we are.[5] 

How do we move and live in these days of all kinds of violence from all kinds of motives? Hold fast to each other, like sea otters.  A mother sea otter holds hands with her baby so that while they are sleeping, they don’t drift away from each other into dangerous waters.  Work for justice, and be instruments of peace. Remember Luther’s thoughts, expanding even more his explanation of the fifth commandment, You shall not kill:

It is God’s real intention that we should allow no one to suffer harm but show every kindness and love.  And this kindness…is directed especially toward our enemies.[6]

Come together around the table, Christ’s body and blood, to experience again unity and hope, and catch glimpses of wholeness and holiness.  Be open to God’s love that can transform.

We walk in the light of the God who creates our world and give us life. Carry the light of the one who lived and died and rose again into the darkness.  Hold onto the one who reconciles and heals, so that, even in the midst of our anger and grief, we can go forward with God’s comfort and hope, praying to God, Your kingdom come.

~Pastor Cheryl Ann Griffin

[1] My title was taken from an article by Frederick Buechner.  http://journals.sagepub.com/doi/abs/10.1177/004057369304900402?journalCode=ttja.

[2] http://www.cnn.com/2017/10/02/us/las-vegas-shooting-victims/index.html

[3] Kolb, Robert and Wengert, Timothy, eds.  The Book of Concord.  Minneapolis:  Fortress Press, 2000.  410-413.

[4] Matthew 5:4.

[5] http://journals.sagepub.com/doi/abs/10.1177/004057369304900402?journalCode=ttja.

[6] Kolb, Robert and Wengert, Timothy, eds.  The Book of Concord.  Minneapolis:  Fortress Press, 2000.  410-413.

Jonah 3:10-4:11, Matthew 20:1-16

16^th Sunday after Pentecost    Lectionary 25

What makes you angry?  Do you lose your patience with impatient people?  Are you intolerant of intolerance? What makes you angry? I floated this question on FaceBook, and there were a variety of answers. I had thought most of them would be political, but that was not the case.  It turns out that people are really aggravated by how other people drive! Being ignored or underestimated, ignorance and stupidity are difficult for some. Several people said that people who hurt or abuse animals or people sparked their anger.  In fact, one woman said she wanted to beat up people who hurt others.

The prophet Jonah was an angry prophet. Most people know that Jonah was swallowed up by a whale.  The whole story is much better than that.  God had sent Jonah to preach repentance to the Ninevites, residents of the Assyrian capital.  Assyrians were a people known for their acts of violence and cruelty.  They were Israel’s enemy, and Jonah did not want to go into the heart of enemy territory. Ninevah was west. He ran away, 750 miles or so east, not just to escape this mission, but to escape God.

In case you have not experienced this yourself, you cannot outrun God. God has a way of persuading people to do things they never imagined they would, or even could, do.  In Jonah’s case, God’s convincing involved a storm and a whale.  Arriving in Ninevah, Jonah preached a sermon that every church-going person would like their pastor to preach.  It was 8 words long.  “Forty days more, and Ninevah shall be overthrown.”  Every preacher prays for their sermon to be this effective!  The people of Ninevah believed God’s words spoken through this prophet.  Like all good sermons, this word spread across the city.  When the king heard it, he declared that all people and all cows and goats and dogs and cats,—especially the cats,– were to repent.[1]  He ordered them to give up their evil ways, and they did.  And God changed God’s mind, and did not destroy the Ninevites.

Jonah’s face got red, he stopped breathing for a minute, and said, in his most sarcastic voice, “I knew you are gracious, and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love.”  Then he stomped his foot, and shouted, “Lord, just take me now!”  God looked at him sideways and asked, “Is it right for you to be angry?”  Jonah did not answer God, and, instead of doing the happy dance because his preaching was successful, Jonah stomped off to pout.

“Is it right for you to be angry?”  Perhaps Jonah would not be so angry if God’s mercy had been given to someone other than Israel’s enemy.  Assyria will soon come to be the empire that destroys the northern kingdom of Israel. Isn’t it right to be angry that God’s forgiveness extends to these violent Assyrians?  Aren’t people supposed to get what they deserve?  Isn’t it right to be angry when bad people are not punished?

God, in God’s way, offers Jonah an object lesson.  He grew a bush so that it gave the prophet shade from the heat of the sun.  Jonah was happy about the bush.  The next morning, God arranged for a worm to attack the bush so it withered. Once more, he asked that he might die.  “’Is it right for you to be angry about the bush?’”  And he said, ‘Yes, angry enough to die.’”

Frederick Buechner defines anger in this way:

Of the seven deadly sins, anger is possibly the most fun.  To lick your wounds, to smack your lips over grievances long past, to roll over your tongue the prospect of bitter confrontations still to come, to savor to the last toothsome morsel both the pain you are given and the pain you are giving back—in many ways it is a feast fit for a king.  The chief drawback is that what you are wolfing down is yourself.  The skeleton at the feast is you.[2]

Anger can be used in productive ways, especially when it motivates us to challenge discrimination, or to help the poor and those who are suffering.  But Jonah’s anger was based on his judgment, not God’s.  Jonah made himself the determiner of who deserved forgiveness and who did not.  And then Jonah took his anger, and turned it inward, so that he wanted to die.

Every person in Ninevah may have done evil things, but they were God’s people.  The bush and the worm were God’s, too. When the people turned back to him, when they repented, he had compassion on them.  He saw them as people “who did not know their right hand from their left,” people who were lost and broken.  God prefers second chances instead of punishment, and rehabilitation to revenge.  Does God’s generosity make you angry?

It did for the laborers in the field who were hired first.  The landowner in our parable hires laborers in the early hours of the morning, at 9, at noon, and at 3 in the afternoon.  Then he hired more just one hour before quitting time.  He not only paid everyone the same amount for the whole day, he made certain the worker hired first saw the people who only worked an hour get the same paycheck they were promised.  They were angry, and said, “You have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the day and the scorching heat.”

The landowner fulfilled the agreement he had with those who were hired first.  “Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me?”  We are reminded of the bush God gave to Jonah.  The landowner asks, “Are you envious because I am generous?”  The Greek literally translates, ““Is your eye evil because I am good?”

“Is it right for you to be angry?”  “Is your eye evil because I am good?”  From the time we recognize ourselves as distinct human beings, we appoint ourselves as judge of what is fair and what is not. “He got cookies than me!  It’s not fair!” We do it as adults, too, only in a more mature way, of course. Sometimes.  How strange and even offensive it is, to our way of thinking, that the last shall be first.  How we receive that news perhaps depends on where we stand in the line.

Remarkably enough, God did not desert Jonah in his disobedience, or even give him up to his own poor choices.  God, as the landowner, went out over and over, all day long to find people who needed to work, and he hired them to work in the vineyard.  God does not give up on those who are in need of grace and mercy.  God does not give up on us.

~Pastor Cheryl Ann Griffin

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[1] As you may already know, I really do like cats.

[2] Buechner, Frederick.  Beyond Words:  Daily Readings in the ABC’s of Faith.  New York:  HarperCollins Publishers, 2004. 18.

Romans 12:1-8   Matthew 16:24-28    

Lectionary 22   13^th Sunday after Pentecost

At the advanced age of four, an intelligent young man who has exceptional grandparents rode a Busch Gardens roller coaster for the first time.  As the coaster climbed the hill to its crest, and then immediately plummeted, Jonathan screamed, “Help! Somebody save me!”

I imagine that’s how Jesus’ disciple Peter felt.  It wasn’t that long ago that he and his brother Andrew were casting nets into the sea. Jesus walked by and “said to them, ‘Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.  Immediately they left their nets and followed him.”[1]  Peter, his brother and the other disciples followed Jesus, watching him as he made lepers clean, and made those who were not able to even wiggle their toes walk again.  Peter and the others heard Jesus call those who mourn and those who are meek blessed.  He heard Jesus teach about the law and the prophets, anger and adultery, treasures and judgment. On top of the mountain, Peter and the disciples experienced the feeding of thousands with only a few fish and some loaves of bread.  With all this in mind, when Jesus asked, Peter said, “You are the Messiah!”

On this Labor Day weekend, it is good to remember that in Peter’s time and place, struggling farmers and fisherman and laborers paid more than half their income in taxes.  Most people lived in poverty. Slavery was common.   The oppressive government could make people like John the Baptizer could lose their heads.  The people cried, “Help!  Somebody save me!”  And along comes Jesus, healing and feeding people.  “You are the one to save us,” Peter says.

But then Jesus told them that he will suffer and die.  Maybe the shock of that overshadowed the part where Jesus said he would be raised on the third day, or maybe the disciples didn’t understand.  “God forbid it!” Peter said.  “’Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling block to me…’” Jesus replied.  Jesus called Peter a stumbling block because Peter put himself in front of Jesus, in front where he could be tripped over.  As a disciple of Jesus, Peter should have been behind Jesus so that he could follow him.

“’If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.’”  This verse has been misinterpreted to try to justify abusive relationships.  It’s been cited to prove that God says suffering is God’s desire for us, but that’s a misreading not only of the text, but of Jesus and Jesus’ mission, and God’s desires for us.  God want us to flourish.  Not only us, but our neighbor.  Jesus gives us a better way to do that than our way.  “’For those who want to save their life will lose it,’” Jesus says.  Do you think maybe Jesus needs to re-consider his advertising campaign for Christianity?

There are all kinds of ways that we try to save our own lives.  We try all kinds of things to overcome our problems without depending on God.  We have ways of protecting ourselves. We have worked out our own ways of staying in control of our lives, thinking that’s how to save it. We turn to and invest in things to give us life that simply can’t.  In what or in whom do you put your trust and faith?  Is it your perfectionism, or perhaps your intellect? At the end of the day, what has given you life?

Jesus says that he is the one who gives life.  “’If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.  For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it,’” Jesus says.  It is not command, but an invitation. Denying ourselves does not mean that we give up cookies. Denying ourselves means that we choose either the life we thought we wanted, or the life God offers us through Christ.

In our reading of Romans, we hear St. Paul elaborate on what a life of following Christ entails.  “Let love be genuine,” he writes.  That’s easy, right?  Then Paul reminds us that love should include actively extending hospitality to strangers, and blessing those who persecute you.  Associate with the lowly, and don’t repay evil for evil.   If your enemies are hungry, feed them, and if they’re thirsty, give them something to drink. This is a good time to remember that we do not do these things on our own.  Jesus gives us the courage and the strength and the power to do the things he wants us to do.

“Jesus said to his disciples, ‘If anyone wants to come behind me, that person must turn away from oneself and take up one’s cross and live a life following me.’”[2]  “’For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it,’” Jesus says, “Love me.  Let go of things that can’t love you back.  Stop protecting your own ego.  Love me more than life itself.  Love me enough to be willing to be laughed at, spit upon, and mocked.  Be willing to suffer and to die, to die even to yourself, on account of me.  Follow me, and I will give you life that never fails.”

Let Jesus be in the first car, and you are in for a wild ride!   Sometimes we will be up, and sometimes we will find ourselves plummeting.  But Jesus promises to lead us through it all.   “Help!  Somebody save me!” Jonathan screamed as the coaster crested the hill and he plummeted down.  And as he stepped off the car, he was heard shouting, “Let’s do it again!”

~Pastor Cheryl Ann Griffin

[1] Matthew 4:19.

[2] Translation by Bruner, Frederick Dale.  The Churchbook, vol. 2.  Grand Rapids:  William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2004.  139-163.

 

Matthew 16:13-20

12th Sunday After Pentecost ~ Lectionary 21

Who is Jesus?  The answer to this question depends upon when, where and whom you ask.  Your 10-year old self will answer differently than your 45-year old sel.  Someone in Tanzania may answer in a way unlike someone from London or New York, or Williamsburg.  For Muslims, Jesus is one of the greatest messengers of God.  Jews have respect for Jesus, but do not view him as the son of God.  Some people say Jesus was a good teacher, or simply a moral person.

When Jesus asked his disciples this question, they answered, “’Some say John the Baptist, but others Elijah, and still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.’”  At the time, Jesus and his followers were in Caesarea Philippi, formerly known as Panias. It was in this place that the Canaanites built a sanctuary to their god Baal.  It had been the place of the Gate of Hades for pagans, and Greeks received revelations from their god Pan.  In this setting, Jesus’ question had theological implications.

But there were political implications, too. It came to be that the Romans replaced the Greeks in this region, and Herod the Great’s son, Herod Philip, became ruler.  To honor both the Roman emperor Caesar and himself, he changed the city’s name to Caesarea Philippi. This Roman government was an oppressive system.  Standing among reminders of other gods, and in the midst of Caesar and Herod’s domain, Jesus asked, “Who do people say that I am?”[1]

Jesus followed this question with another, “But who do you say that I am?”  Peter answered, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.”   The Roman emperors called themselves sons of gods, and the Hebrew term Messiah means “God’s anointed one,” the one who would set the oppressed people free.  Jesus patted Peter on the back and said, “Well done! You got it!”  That was true in that moment.   Only a short time later, Jesus will reveal that he is going to be tortured and killed, and Peter will question his confession. The question of who Jesus is got quite confusing.

 

“Who do you say that I am?” If someone were to ask you who you say Jesus is, or what you believe about Jesus, how would you answer? [2]  What do you tell your children, and your children’s children about Jesus?  Jesus’ question was more than a question about theology and doctrine.  What does your life and how you live it say about who Jesus is to you?

This matters now, in this time and this place, as much as it did when Jesus asked the disciples in Caesarea Philippi.  When Jesus asks us, “Who do you say that I am,” it is, in fact, an urgent question.  When we call ourselves Christians, what is it we are teaching others about Jesus through what we say and what we do? Who we say Jesus is determines who we are.  It establishes what we are willing to do, the risks we take, and the hope we have.  Maybe the real question is, “Are you in love with Jesus?”

The depth of our love for Jesus becomes evident not only in our relationship with him, but in our relationship with one another.  Our kindness, our spending, and how we use our time are all reflections of who Jesus is to us.  Our relationship with Jesus shows when we choose to stand with those who are victims of hate and violence, when we vote for justice, and speak for those who have no voice.  Every time we choose forgiveness over retribution and love over hate, we confess Christ.  Who we say Jesus is shapes every part of our lives.

But we are not perfect.  Like Peter, we will confess Jesus as Lord one day and deny him the next.  Like Peter, we mess up. Not all the time, and maybe not even most of the time.  But sometimes. Sometimes we stay silent when we should speak the truth that every person is equal in the eyes of God.  Sometimes we provide food, but don’t sit down at the table together.  When we don’t trust that God empowers us to do those things God tells us to do, or ail to call on God when we are afraid of the storm, we deny Christ.

Thank God that who Jesus is does not depend upon who we say he is. We give thanks that, for all those times that we do not confess Christ with our lives, Christ comes to us. Christ comes confessing who he is in the faces of beautiful children, and in the words of scripture.  Jesus comes to us in the wine and the bread, in his body and blood, in forgiveness, given for you.

~ Pastor Cheryl Ann Griffin

[1] I am indebted to Brian McLaren for his insights into the implications of the geographical location of this text.  See McLaren, Brian D.  We Make the Road by Walking.  New York:  Jericho Books, 2014.  116-124.

[2] Kolb, Robert and Wengert, Timothy J., eds. The Book of Concord.  Minneapolis:  Augsburg Fortress, 2000.  434.    What is it that Lutherans confess about Jesus?  Here’s how Luther answers that question in his explanation of the second article of the Apostle’s Creed:

I believe that Jesus Christ, true Son of God has become my Lord.” What is it “to become a lord”? It means that he has redeemed and released me from sin, from the devil, from death, and from all misfortune.  Before this I had no lord or king, bur was captive under the power of the devil.  I was condemned to death and entangled in sin and blindness. …[T]he little word ‘Lord’ simply means the same as Redeemer, that is, he who has brought us back from the devil to God, from death to life, from sin to righteousness, and keeps us there.