Category: Sermons

 

Isaiah 61:1-3, Psalm 121, Matthew 25:31-46

August 29, 2015

 

You can’t help but love a woman who wanted the song “God Save the Queen” and a New Orleans style jazz parade complete with marching band at her memorial service! (I hate to disappoint all of you, but the marching band is not coming!) Her wishes are a window into who Nancy was. She was the woman John fell in love with when he met her at Albany Medical Center where he worked in the pharmacy and she was a student nurse. Nancy was a determined woman, who learned to ski because that is what John and their children, John and Lisa did. She celebrated Boston Red Sox wins by parading through her neighborhood. John told me that she was an in-charge person, and, he said, that fortunately, she was very good at it. Married for 61 years, they were best friends. There is no end to love.

Our readings from Isaiah and Matthew reflect Nancy’s life of giving. Nancy saw the people society often dismisses and gave them back their dignity. Among other positions, she worked at Williamsburg Landing for almost 20 years. God called her to educate and counsel people about aging, dementia and Alzheimer’s Disease. Nancy welcomed the stranger, gave the naked clothing, took care of the sick, and visited those who were bound in their own prisons. Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these, you did it to me.” The Lord anointed Nancy to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners. She did this with her wisdom and knowledge, with her compassion, and with her unique way of telling the truth in love. Those of you who are here today, who are witnesses to her life, represent only a fraction of the people she touched.

Her death was a shock not only to her family, but also to this community. Despite the fact that she was 82 years old, according to our human chronological time, her death came too soon. Her death was untimely, but her life was not. Nancy’s participation in God’s work of healing and her sense of fun were signs of God’s presence. She helped to bring God’s kingdom into our broken world, and the difference that she made continues.

We can ask God why this tragedy happened, but the truth is that God did not cause the car accident to happen. It was not God’s will.  God came to be one of us in human flesh, in the person of Jesus. In his living, and loving, and suffering and dying, Jesus experienced what we do. Wherever we go, Jesus went before us.

So, where is God in all of this? God is right here with us, loving us, and weeping with us. I lift up my eyes to the hills—where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, maker of heaven and earth (Psalm 121.1-2). When our grief becomes too much, when it is beyond our human capability to deal with our sadness and our fears, then the strength of the God of resurrection can be seen. God’s love is stronger than our grief. God’s love is stronger than death. Our God of resurrection heals and redeems.

It is not a coincidence that our service today echoes our baptismal liturgy. In our baptisms, we are joined to Christ Jesus in his death and in his resurrection. In our baptism, we are set free from sin and death. This is not dependent upon our goodness or our faithfulness, but God’s. It is by God’s grace that we are saved. Our salvation comes through Jesus Christ. In God’s deep love for us, God entered into our humanity. God promises never to let us go. We give thanks for God’s promise to be with us in life and in death. We give thanks for the power of the resurrection. That is where Nancy is, with God in the resurrection. Possibly in charge of something.

It is good to be together today in community, to remember and to honor Nancy’s life and to commend her to God in her death. It is good to be here so that we can lean on each other. We can share each other’s pain. We can stand together in a shared silence when we don’t know what words to say. Right here with us is Christ, blessing us through each other’s prayers and presence, blessing us in ways we might not be able to know or understand.

In Nancy, we caught a glimpse of God and God’s love for all people. Life will be different without Nancy, but in the days ahead, notice the in-breaking of the resurrection life in which Nancy now lives. That is what Nancy would want, –for us to live life as a gift to be shared. And to sing “God Save the Queen.” Feel the healing power of a hug, nestle in the warmth of friendship, listen to someone with your whole heart, and be a blessing to others by your willingness to help carry their load.

God has promised never to abandon us in life or in death. We can rest in that sure and certain hope, and take comfort that Nancy is with God, whose love never fails.

 

~The Reverend Cheryl Ann Griffin

 

John 6:51-58        

Time after Pentecost—Lectionary 20

“Eat my flesh….Whoever eats me will live because of me.” It sounds like cannibalism. Saying, “I am the bread that came down from heaven” was provocative enough. Then Jesus says, “Whoever eats of this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.” How offensive is this? People asked, “How can this man give us his flesh to eat?”

This same question has been asked over and over again ever since, and exactly what this means continues to be a hot topic. Roman Catholics came to understand Jesus’ statements as transubstantiation. They believe that at the consecration in the Mass, the substance of bread and wine changes, by God’s power, into the substance of Jesus Christ’s body and blood, which become present while the bread and wine remain.[1]

Martin Luther says that Jesus speaks of eating and drinking his flesh and blood when calling his hearers to believe in him because “he wants people who are already familiar and preoccupied with eating and drinking to recognize by comparison what his words surely do not mean.” Luther appreciates the stir that Jesus causes, and points out that when Jesus says, ‘my flesh,’ it is ‘my’ that defines ‘flesh’.“ Luther says, ‘This is not ‘the sort of flesh from which red sausages are made,’ ‘not flesh such as purchased in a butcher shop or is devoured by wolves and dogs,’ ‘not veal or beef found in cow barns.’[2]” You’ve got to love Luther!

Lutherans have come to understand the change in Jesus’ flesh and blood in Holy Communion as consubstantiation. Con meaning “with or of,” and substantiation meaning, “the same nature and kind.” While the substance of the bread and wine are not changed into the body and blood of Christ, they coexist or are conjoined in union with each other: bread with body and wine with blood.[3] Has this cleared everything up?

What is it you believe about Jesus, and his body and blood, and blessed wine and bread? How sad it is that over the centuries, Christ’s giving of himself has divided Christians. Our Evangelical Lutheran Church in America is in full communion partnership with 6 other churches. [“For the ELCA, the characteristics of full communion are theological and missiological implications of the gospel that allow variety and flexibility.[4]”] As a denomination, we are the most inclusive. That makes my Lutheran heart proud. But not in a sinful way. Well, maybe in a sinful way.

While Evangelical Lutheran Church in America has its doctrines, we also recognize that what unites us is Jesus. What brings us together around the altar is Jesus’ giving of himself, his body and blood, for us, for the forgiveness of sin, not because of anything we have done, but purely because of God’s grace. How that works remains a both a mystery and a miracle. Jesus is great at mysteries and miracles.

The God who would be made human and walk among us is a mystery and a miracle, too. Jesus almost always makes the spiritual physical and the subjective objective, just like his father did by sending Jesus to us in human form. Jesus is the Word made flesh, and that he offered himself, his very body, his life for us, is an incomprehensible statement of love. That is what Holy Communion is about, God’s love for us through Christ.

“Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them.” Jesus did not say that only those who had correct understanding, or those who were without sin. He put no boundaries on offering himself. In John’s gospel, Jesus has already fed thousands of people loaves and fishes before he talks about the Bread of Life. Now he speaks to them, to those who tracked him down because they were interested in getting another meal. He speaks to those who need more signs to believe him. He speaks to those who did not understand, and to those who were rejecting him. Jesus promises rather than explains.

What is this promise? Life in relationship with Christ. “Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them.” Just as the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so whoever eats me will live because of me.” We are invited into active participation in the life-giving power of Jesus. Jesus wants to consume us as we consume him.

At the altar rail, we join with the saints who have gone before us, and with Christians around the world. Each of us comes because we heard Christ call. In the bread and the wine, we experience God’s love for us in a tangible way.

What is it that you bring with you this morning? What is it that you will bring with you to Christ? Come! Bring with you your doubts and your misunderstandings. Bring your regrets and your sins, your worries and your needs. Come with your brokenness so that Jesus can heal it with his.

~Pastor Cheryl Ann Griffi

 

[1] Westminster Dictionary of Theological Terms. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1996. Donald K. McKim, ed. 286.

[2] David Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, eds. Feasting on the Word. (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009)   358.

[3] Westminster Dictionary of Theological Terms. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1996. Donald K. McKim, ed. 60.

[4] http://www.elca.org/Faith/Ecumenical-and-Inter-Religious-Relations/Full-Communion#sthash.RRso0tMI.dpuf

[i] In the back of your ELW worship book, on page 1166, you will find the teaching about the Sacrament of the Altar in Luther’s Small Catechism. One of the questions asked and answered is, “What is the benefit of such eating and drinking? The words “given for you” and “shed for you for the forgiveness of sin” show us that forgiveness of sin, life, and salvation are given to us in the sacrament through these words, because where there is forgiveness of sin, there is also life and salvation.”

 

Ephesians 4:25-5:2

Time after Pentecost–Lectionary 19               August 9, 2015

 

Just as finding Halloween related goods in stores alongside back-to-school supplies alongside Fourth of July decorations makes me shudder, so does the early onset of another season. Unlike the obvious nature of those occasions, this one starts out subtly. You can recognize it when you begin to hear things like, “Mary voted to take away your gun rights. Michelle funded organizations linked to terrorists. Mitch took $600,000 from anti-coal groups. John met with terrorists.” Without regard to political affiliation, these are some of the items on the Washington Post’s 2014 top Pinocchio’s of the Year.[1] The Washington Post coined the political fact-check phrase “Pinocchios” for untrue statements, whether they appear in a campaign advertisement or are spoken by an elected official.” [2] Yes, we are in the presidential campaign season. How often is the “truth,” quote-unquote, spoken as a way to exonerate, manipulate, retaliate or tear down?

Truth can be complicated. Truth is not simply either/or, black/white, or right/wrong. When Jesus was taken to Pilate’s headquarters for interrogation, Pilate asked Jesus, “What is truth?” [John 18.38]. It turns out, truth is really hard to define. Sometimes truth depends on our definition of the words we use. The now famous questions, “What is ‘is’” and “how do you define sex?” are examples of this. Some people are legalistic in an attempt to get to truth, but truth can be nebulous.

We read this morning in the book of Ephesians, “So then, putting away falsehood, let all of us speak the truth to our neighbors, for we are members of one another….Let no evil talk come out of your mouths, but only what is useful for building up,…”

The writer of Ephesians points out that we are part of a community, members of one another. In doing so, the concept of truth is broadened from a legalistic definition to a guiding principle based on relationship. “Let us all speak the truth to our neighbors, for we are members of one another” he writes. “Who is our neighbor?” is the legalistic question. Jesus tells us that everyone is our neighbor, regardless of ethnicity, political affiliation, gender or religion.

“Let no evil talk come out of your mouths, but only what is useful for building up. We are to speak only what is good for relationships and for well-being. There are times when the truth should not be spoken, especially when it will save a life or a relationship.  My husband’s nephew, Jamie, was with us recently. He told us that once his wife asked him, “Does this dress make me look fat?” Jamie told the truth, as he saw it. Did I say “wife?” I meant to say his ex-wife.

If people were to say only what is both true and useful for building up, how many FaceBook posts would be eliminated? How much more pleasant would our high school experiences be? What about those untrue and destructive things that we say to ourselves? I don’t need any help; I can do it myself. Some of the lies we tell ourselves are actually destructive: I am not good enough. I don’t deserve grace and forgiveness. I can stop drinking/gambling/shopping whenever I want.

It is interesting that the admonition to speak the truth is followed by these words: “Be angry but do not sin.” Contrary to what many people think, Jesus did get angry. Matthew, Mark and John all report Jesus drove merchants out of the temple, and poured out the coins of the money changers—bankers we would call them today. At the root of Jesus’ anger was his concern for the holiness of God’s house. The gospel of Mark also relates another occasion when Jesus got angry. He was angry with the religious leaders when they challenged him about healing on the Sabbath. Grieved at their hardness of heart, Jesus looked around at them with anger [Mark 3:5].

Anger has a useful purpose when we have the right reasons for being angry. Jesus’ anger did not come from selfishness, but out of love and concern for others and for God. There are, in fact, times when not being angry would be sin. Here are some that should get your blood moving. In northeast Nigeria, Boko Haram, an extremist group, abducted schoolgirls, attacked and killed worshippers at a mosque, and used suicide bombers to destroy towns. In the seventh richest country in the world, the United States, some people who are employed full time still cannot afford medical care and medicine, and then there are those who aren’t working who don’t have medical insurance.   In North Korea, Christians are tortured and executed for their faith. According to the Boston Globe, in that town, blacks and Hispanics are twice as likely to have their mortgage applications turned down.[3] Anger about oppression and injustice is justified. As truth should be used for the building up of community and relationship, so should anger. Our reading today attaches a command. Listen again, “Be angry but do not sin.” In other words, when you are angry, use that anger productively and in a healthy way.

There is anger that is not motivated by oppression and injustice, but that comes from self-concerns. It is anger that is wrapped up in bitterness and wrath. It is the kind of anger that refuses to see the humanity in the object of our anger. The kind in which we sit in judgment over others. The kind of anger that destroys relationships is the kind of anger that leads to sin. Put away from you all bitterness and wrath and anger and wrangling and slander, together with all malice, and be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ has forgiven you. Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children, and live in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us…

There is a story that sums up our passage. There was a person who visited both heaven and hell. In hell, his first stop, he found people sitting around large banquet tables filled with prime rib, horseradish sauce, salmon, garlic mashed potatoes, roasted vegetables, pecan pie and cookies. All the people around the table had their elbows frozen. They could not bend them. They could not get the food into their mouths. They were starving in the midst of a feast. The person then went to heaven. There was a similar banquet table filled with prime rib, horseradish sauce, salmon, garlic mashed potatoes, roasted vegetables, pecan pie and cookies—with chocolate and macadamia nuts. Here in heaven, the visitor was surprised to see that the people there also had their elbows frozen so that they could not bend. But here everyone was laughing and eating and enjoying the feast because they were feeding each other.

Therefore, be imitators of God because that is what God does for us through Christ. God gathers us around the table and feed us. “I am the bread of life,” Christ promises us. Let all of us speak that truth!

~Pastor Cheryl Ann Griffin

[1] http://www.ijreview.com/2014/12/216769-wapos-list-biggest-political-lies/

[2] ibid.

[3] https://www.bostonglobe.com/business/2015/02/18/blacks-and-hispanics-denied-mortgages-twice-rate-whites/IheRufCaDTH0BkpU6r3s1M/story.html

Exodus 16:2-4, 9-15, John 6:24-35    

Time After Pentecost – Lectionary 18

 

My husband, who is from Rocky Mount, NC, moved to Philadelphia, where I had been born and raised. Out for breakfast one morning, before I became a vegetarian, I ordered scrapple. Griff asked, “What is it?” He has since determined that scrapple is made from the sweepings from a butcher shop floor. When we took a trip south, he ordered grits and I asked, “What is it?” Grits, well, I suppose they are better for you than floor sweepings, but I never quite acquired a taste for them. They are white flaky things, like manna.

Maybe you have heard the expression, “manna from heaven.” Here is the story behind that. Having been set free from slavery in Egypt, the Israelites traveled in the wilderness. Supplies dwindled as the days and weeks went on. On the fifteenth day of the second month, they had reached their limit. They were hungry and thirsty. All they could think about was cool water and fresh baked bread. “Why didn’t God let us die in comfort in Egypt where we had lamb stew and all the bread we could eat? Moses, you have brought us out into this wilderness to starve us to death!” You can’t blame the people for their complaints. They had lost their means of support, as brutal as it was, and now were in a place where there were no food pantries, no Community of Faith Mission, and no St. Stephen motel ministry. It is interesting to note that the people attribute their being in the wilderness to Moses and not God.

God responded to the people by sending them a fine, flaky substance. We read a few verses later that the Israelites called it “manna.” The name comes from a Hebrew word “man hu.” According to some translators, the word literally means, “What is it?[1]” The Israelites ate manna almost every day for forty years. Baked or boiled. Without cheese or maple syrup. The kids would look at it and say, “What is it?” and the parents would say, “yes.”

God sent this bread from heaven with instructions. Collect one day’s worth, one serving per person, no more. It wouldn’t keep overnight. The exception to this was the day before the Sabbath. God let the people gather enough for two days instead of one. Everyone had enough, but some felt the need to have more than what God had instructed. The leftovers did not keep. Surplus manna got worms and rotted. Enough was enough and more than that was too much. God gave them enough manna for the day. When breakfast was served, the Israelites bowed their heads, folded their hands and prayed, “Thank you, God, for what is it.”

So every morning, they began their day with that question. In the place of shortage and of threat and of death, they asked, “What is it? What is it, God, that we are doing out here in the wilderness? What is it that you, God, want me to leave behind? What do I need you to do so that I will trust you? What is it that will make me feel secure? What is it that you are calling me to do now? What is it God that you want me discover about myself, and about you, and about you and me together in relationship?”

We, too, have questions like these in the midst of our wilderness experiences. Our time in that desert comes when we don’t know what to do with our lives, when our bodies begin to fail us, when we find ourselves dependent on alcohol or an unhealthy relationship, when we don’t know how we will be paying all our bills… You understand there is no limit to what those things are that we see when we look up and discover we are in the wilderness.   What are your questions for God when you are in the desert? What is it you hold on to in those times? What is it that God is giving you that you need but may not want? Do you find God sends manna to you when you are struggling? Are you able to trust that God will send more when you need it?

If you have difficulty with any of these questions, you are not alone. Those whom Jesus had fed just the day before hunted him down. The first thing that they say to him is, “When did you come here?” They did not recognize Jesus as their savior. They were looking for him not out of their faith but because they wanted lunch. What follows is an amazing conversation. Listen again closely. Jesus answered them, “You’ve come looking for me not because you saw God in my actions but because I fed you, filled your stomachs—and for free. Don’t waste your energy striving for perishable food like that. Work for the food that sticks with you, food that nourishes your lasting life, food the Son of Man provides. He and what he does are guaranteed by God the Father to last.[2]”

The people don’t get it. They don’t ask, “What is it that God is doing?” or “who is it who gives us this bread?” Their focus is not on the Son of Man and God. Here is their response to Jesus’ grace-filled good news: “What should we do?” What are they thinking? “It’s all up to us,” or “what we do is more important than anything else.” “What works should we be doing,” the people ask Jesus.

Jesus answers them, “The will and the work of God that you want to fulfill is simply to trust me as the One God Sent.[3]” It isn’t works that God wants. The work given to us is to trust in God through Jesus, and it is God who works in us this trust.

Jesus tells us, “It is my Father who gives you the true bread from heaven. For the bread of God is that which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.” Jesus is the bread from heaven. Jesus is the manna. Jesus is the answer to the question “What is it?” Now the question changes from “What is it that we have to do?” to “What is it that Jesus Christ is doing in our lives?”

“What is it?” This is my body given for you. “What is it?” “This is my blood shed for you.” We will gather around the altar to eat the bread of life and drink the cup of salvation. In a tangible way, God will fill our hunger. In Christ’s body and blood, our wilderness is re-created by God to be a place of abundance, promise and life.

Give us this day our daily bread. One day at a time.

~Pastor Cheryl Ann Griffin

[1] Some translators say “manna” means “what it is,” and some believe it to be derived from other phrases, such as “allotment.”

[2] This translation is from The Message Bible, a translation by Eugene Peterson.

[3] Dale Bruner’s commentary on John, p. 388

[i] I am indebted to M. Craig Barnes for his insights into this Exodus text, which he expressed in a lecture at the Festival of Homiletics years ago.

Mark 6:30-34, 53-56 

Time after Pentecost – Lectionary 16        July 19, 2015

  

“Come, all by yourselves, and rest for a while.” Jesus was responding to the disciples after they had told him all that they had done. When have you gone away for vacation? This week, I was on the beach for a day and a half in Duck, NC, researching our texts for today. Does that qualify?

According to an article I read recently, a survey by the U.S. Travel Association found that Americans take fewer vacation days than they did 15 years ago. Forty percent of people don’t take all the vacation days that they have earned. Seven out of ten respondents to the study confessed that they skip their children’s activities, birthdays and vacations to work more. We fall short of creating a good work-life balance.

Dr. Sue Varma, a clinical assistant professor of psychiatry at NYU Langone Medical Center is concerned. “When [not taking time to rest] becomes a pattern, you start to burn bridges with key relationships in your life,” she writes. “We don’t look at time as a resource, and that’s the problem — a lot of times we look at money as a resource,” said Varma[1]. We live in a culture that professes direct consequences for the work we do. Relaxation isn’t productive. Working long hours makes us a success. Children attending the right preschool, taking dance lessons, piano lessons, playing soccer, and waking hours without a moment to spare will grow up to be the best and brightest and have everything could ever want. College students researching, writing, studying who don’t see the light of day will graduate summa cum laude, and that will be the tangible sign that they are successful. It is all so black and white.

It is until you start looking at reality instead of our if/then, deeds/consequence paradigm. Research shows that taking vacations slows down employee turnover. For every forty hours of free time, employees stayed at a company eight months longer. Ernst and Young found that people who used more vacation days received better performance reviews[2]. We are not performing at our best when exhausted.

Rest and relaxation is important even for those who are not employed. Daily demands of caring for others, paying bills, meal preparation, washing, cleaning, volunteer activities and all of those things that we do for others can be wearing. For students, it is the pressure of making good grades and engaging in extracurricular activities. Life’s interruptions are certain to derail us when we are too busy to stop and breathe. All of it can be physically, spiritually and emotionally draining.

Jesus knew this. His twelve disciples had just come back from preaching, casting out demons, and tending to the sick. “Jesus, do you know all the good stuff we did? We went here and did this, then there and fixed that. We helped hundreds of people. We ate lunch at our desks! “ Jesus doesn’t tell them, “Good job! Your performance reviews will be excellent this year! A sixty-hour workweek is to be commended! And, hey, if we publish your cell phone numbers, we can take it to twenty-four/seven!”

No, Jesus did not say those things. Jesus said to them, “Come away and rest for a while.”

There is something to be said about time in solitude. On this occasion, after the disciples worked together two by two to accomplish their given mission, Jesus called them to be in community while they rested and recharged. Maybe they went to the beach and built a sand castle, or cast their fishing rods to catch dinner. Maybe they went on a bike ride, or to the movies.

Our church staff comes together every day at noon to worship and then eat lunch together. You are welcome to join us! The demands of the day are set aside. We talk about movies we’ve seen, favorite foods, children and grandchildren. It is a time of brief but intentional Sabbath in which wearied spirits and relationships are refreshed. Even if our conversation is trivial, our time spent talking and breaking bread together is meaningful. We are a better team when we play together. Families are stronger when they ride Busch Gardens’ Tempesto together, or laugh while playing Apples to Apples. Gathering together for meals is an important part of life together.

Jesus said to his disciples, “‘Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.’ For many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat. And they went away in the boat to a deserted place by themselves. Now many saw them going and recognized them, and they hurried there on foot from all the towns and arrived ahead of them.” We don’t know how many days they were in the deserted place, and how much time they had to recharge before the world resumed and people interrupted their Sabbath time. However long it was, their time of rest was enough.

“As [Jesus] went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them.” To have compassion for people is to step outside of the deed/consequence model. If we live our own lives thinking that our twenty-four/seven results in success by our definition of success, don’t we think the same for others? To enter into other’s struggles with heart, you have to put aside the philosophy that we reap what we sow. You-made your-bed-now-you-can-lie-in-it cannot co-exist with compassion. God reaches beyond that, restoring and sustaining relationships.

God calls us to renewal through of practices of Sabbath keeping, and Holy Communion. We re-form ourselves as the body of Christ. We gather today as family at the table, to share bread and wine. “Come,” Christ bids us. “Rest for a while.”

~Pastor Cheryl Ann Griffin

 

[1] http://www.today.com/health/americans-are-taking-less-vacation-time-ever-its-hurting-their-t32371

[2] http://www.today.com/money/want-raise-try-taking-vacation-1D80109607

Lamentations 3:22-23, Psalm 30, Mark 5:21-43    

Time after Pentecost–Lectionary 13      June 28, 2015

I will exalt you, O Lord, because you have lifted me up and have not let my enemies triumph over me. O Lord my God, I cried out to you, and you restored me to health. You brought me up, O Lord, from the dead; you restored my life as I was going down to the grave. So writes the Psalmist.

This Psalm is engraved in my memory. It was Sunday, September 17, 2005, right here in this worship space that Bishop Mauney spoke those words during his sermon. The occasion was my ordination.

I had not thought of this Psalm as mine until that day, and it has sustained me ever since. My calling as a pastor long preceded my graduation from seminary. I was in my last year, living on campus at Lutheran Theological Seminary at Gettysburg. My family still lived in Yorktown. My body didn’t feel right that fall, and I saw many doctors, and even went to Hershey Medical Center emergency room. After many misdiagnoses, it was determined that stage three colon cancer was the problem. This was a threatening diagnosis, and I, like the Psalmist, bargained with God. “What profit is there in my blood, if I go down to the pit? Will the dust praise you or declare your faithfulness?”

I had surgery over Christmas break. When winter classes started, I began chemotherapy in Virginia. The combination of drugs was harsh, and I found that I could only attend classes every other week. For most of the week of chemotherapy, I could not leave my bed. My faithful husband drove me to Pennsylvania, stayed with me, and then drove me home. My husband worked every other week, and I went to classes every other week. I graduated on time, and then began radiation.

God blessed me with a call to ministry, and my ordination was planned. “You have turned my wailing into dancing; you have put off my sackcloth and clothed me with joy. Therefore my heart sings to you without ceasing; O Lord my God, I will give you thanks forever.”

It was at Gettysburg seminary that I met Bernadette, who was also a student. In class, her spark and humor set her apart. A few days later, I learned that she had been living with stage 4 colon cancer. We became friends, and together we talked openly about God, life and death. Bernadette’s zest and energy dwindled, and a few months later, she stopped treatments, knowing that death would come shortly after. It was in Bernadette’s dying that she lived her life differently than most. She loved people, and her greatest joy was to be with them in service. I had hoped that if this cancer was going to kill me, that I would die as gracefully and full of life as Bernadette did.

In our Gospel reading today, there are two females who are ill. Jarius’ daughter, and an unnamed woman who had been hemorrhaging for twelve years. Perhaps she had been misdiagnosed, too. The woman touched Jesus’ clothes and immediately her bleeding stopped.

Jarius’ daughter had been ill, “to the point of death.” Jesus was on his way to heal her when he encountered the bleeding woman, and by the time he got to the girl, she was dead. “Why do you make a commotion and weep? The child is not dead but sleeping,” Jesus told those who were gathered. Then he “took her hand and said, ‘Little girl, get up.’ And immediately the girl got up and began to walk about.”

I love these stories of two females and their faith and restoration to life. I want to cling to their stories, and to believe that daughters and sons, women and men are always healed. Bernadette died. My personal stories are not so different from yours. You know people who have died, and among you this morning are those who have survived transplants, cancer, kidney failure, and other serious illnesses. Many of you are living with bodies that are not 100% healthy. What do these stories have to say to those who are in the midst of these challenges, and to those who won’t recover? How does God turn mourning into dancing? How does God take us from a place of brokenness to wholeness?

Jesus said to the woman who was hemorrhaging, who “felt in her body that she was healed of her disease, “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.” Her bleeding had stopped, but after twelve years of living with her disease, it came to define her life. Afraid and forgotten, her illness cut her off from family and community. She had no control over her own life. She had gone down to the Pit, as our Psalmist says. Jesus claims this unclean, unnamed woman as his “daughter.”   Her faith has “saved” her, as the Greek reads, and Jesus blesses her. There are two different aspects to the unnamed woman’s recovery, the stopping of her physical symptoms and her restoration to wholeness.

It is possible not to be healed from disease, but to be healed with it. Our scars will never be removed, but can we look at them as we do Jesus’ scarred hands and feet—that it is through suffering that we are brought to new life? The Psalmist says that God turned mourning into dancing. It is important to mourn our loss of health, of loved ones, and other losses. Jesus did not go from Palm Sunday to Easter resurrection.

Our hurt reminds us of our need for healing. Henri Nouwen writes, “Our glory is hidden in our pain, if we allow God to bring the gift of himself in our experience of it. If we turn to God, not rebelling against our hurt, we let God transform it into greater good….Our life span, whether thirty years or ninety, gives us opportunities to say yes to a hidden gift from God, to a reality that, while difficult, provides a place for divine encounter and deep growth. To find healing means to belong completely to God, to be born into a life and love that is lasting. It has more to do with seeking first God’s kingdom and finding the deepest longings of our hearts fulfilled than the condition of our bodies.[1]”

Five years after my treatment, I was found to be free of cancer, and my doctor pronounced me cured. During treatment, on the worst of days, I could simply give thanks for God allowing me to breathe and my heart to beat. I took comfort in knowing that with or without me, God would continue to bring love, peace and forgiveness into our world. The prayers of others sustained me. Ten years later, I remember that in an instant, life can change. I discovered through the making of the scars I bear what is important for me and my life–relationships, acts of kindness especially with those who cannot repay us, gratitude for even simple blessings, and prayer. Through God’s continued presence with me, I have learned to be present with others. As Paul said in his letter to the Corinthians, celebrate what you have instead of focusing on what you have lost.

“Daughter, your faith has saved you,” Jesus told the woman whose name no one knew. When she touched his clothes, she did not know what would come, but surrendering to the only one who could heal her, opened herself to God’s blessings. God promises never to abandon us. When we lose part of ourselves because of illness or death of a loved one, we have the one who has been through it all before us, Jesus.

Our reading from Lamentations expresses our divine hope: The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. “The Lord is my portion,” says my soul, “Therefore I will hope in him” [Lamentations 3:22-24].

Let’s dance!

~Pastor Cheryl Ann Griffin

[1] Nouwen, Henri. Turn my Mourning into Dancing. Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2001. 14-15, 94. Print.

Job 38:1-11, Mark 4:35-41   

Time after Pentecost — Lectionary 12   June 21, 2015

What disturbs your sleep? I hope my sermon isn’t interrupting your morning nap. What is it that wakes you up in the middle of the night? Those nights in which you are tossing and turning and twisting the sheets into a knot, what is it that is preventing you from sleeping soundly? Maybe your restful peace is disturbed by a 21 year-old hate-filled racist murdering 9 people as they were faithfully studying God’s word. Maybe your sense of peace is disrupted to learn that two of the people killed at Emanuel AME Church attended Lutheran Theological Southern Seminary, including the pastor, and the shooter was on the rolls of an ELCA congregation. Maybe it disturbs your peace that, although we think that racism among younger generations is waning, statistics say it is not.

What is it that disturbs your sleep? I am worried about… you can fill in the blank for yourselves – money, the welfare of a son or daughter, a relationship. Maybe you are waiting for medical test results. Maybe you have gotten the test results, and that is what is disturbing you. Worry is often fear of the future. What is going to happen when I can no longer work, if this surgery doesn’t fix the problem, when my loved one dies. Fill in your own worry for the future.

Maybe your fear and anxiety is for others or for our world—racism, children in refugee camps, carcinogens in the environment, those who need to choose between food and medical care, genocide in Africa, or the upcoming presidential campaigns. There are life-threatening storms and chaos all around us, no shortage of disturbing situations that can cause a sleepless night.

It is interesting to observe that while the disciples are faced with a life- threatening storm, Jesus, the one who put them into this situation, is sleeping. The disciples, fisherman by vocation, were used to rough weather, but this storm terrified them.  The winds were blowing so hard that the water came up over the sides of the boat and began to fill it. You can feel the boat rocking and rolling. They were facing death, and Jesus was in the back of the boat, sleeping on a cushion. All are in tremendous danger ., and Jesus, the Messiah, the Savior, sleeps.   “Wake up, Jesus!! We’re going to die! Don’t you care?”

Jesus wakes, and with three words, “the wind ceased, and there was a dead calm.” “Who is this?” the people in the boat asked. “Who is this that even the wind and the sea obey him?” Of course, this question is not answered, not then and never directly.

Job had similar questions about God. You might have heard the expression “patience like Job,” but that is not an accurate assessment of the story. Job had done everything right. He prayed, he worshipped, and he obeyed God. Life was good for Job, and then he lost it all within a matter of days. His donkeys and camels were stolen, his servants were killed, and his sheep were struck by lightening. His children died when a wind blew their house down on top of them. Then Job himself got sores all over his body, and they itched.

Over the course of thirty-seven chapters, Job maintains his innocence. In response to his questions, God remains silent, much like Jesus sleeping in the midst of the storm. Exasperated, Job shakes his fist in the air, demanding that God answer him. “Why is this happening to me?” Finally God speaks, perhaps with a touch of sarcasm. “Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth? Tell me, if you have understanding. Who determined its measurements—surely you know!” God continues, “Who shut in the sea with doors when it burst out from the womb?” God asks, and we are brought back to the calming of the chaos of the sea, the disciples in the storm, and Jesus.

“If there is an answer to the problem of unjustified suffering in Job,” writes Barbara Brown Taylor, “then, it is only this: that for most of us, the worst thing that can happen is not to suffer without reason but to suffer without God—without any hope of consolation or rebirth. All other pain pales next to the pain of divine abandonment. When there is nothing left—when all the flocks have been stolen and all the children have been buried—when there is nothing left but a potsherd with which to scratch our sores, what is still left is the God of all creation, who laid the foundation of the earth, who has walked in the recesses of the deep, who has made Behemoth and Leviathan and everything that breathes. This is the Lord of all life, who never runs out of life, and whom we may always ask for more.[1]”

“The worst thing that can happen is not to suffer without reason but to suffer without God.” God never did answer Job’s questions. At the end, it was enough for Job to know God was there with him.

Jesus was in the boat. The striking thing about this story is not that Jesus calms the storm. It is that Jesus slept through winds and waves, and the screams of his disciples. The Lord, the Messiah, was surrounded by his friends, friends full of fear and anxiety, and it did not disturb him. He was at peace. When Jesus asked his disciples, “Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?” maybe he was saying to them, “Don’t you know that if you had sunk to the bottom of the sea, I would be with you? Don’t you know that if you drowned, I would be holding you all the way down?”

In a moment, we will be singing “Peace Like a River,” written by Horatio G. Spafford . His story reminds me of Job’s story. Spafford was a highly successful Chicago lawyer. He was married, and had four daughters and a son. Their young son died, and shortly thereafter the Great Chicago Fire destroyed many of Spafford’s real estate investments. Two years later, he planned to help Dwight Moody with an evangelism campaign in Europe. Some unexpected business came up, and so Horatio sent his wife and daughters over ahead of him. Several days later, he received notice that the ship had encountered a collision. All four of his daughters died. Only his wife survived. On his way to England to join his grieving wife, he wrote these words, “When sorrows like sea billows roll, whatever my lot, thou has taught me to say, it is well, it is well with my soul.”

Today, James Kenneth Stein will be baptized. Through water and the Word, he will be joined to Christ’s death and resurrection and be marked with the cross of Christ forever. One day, James will encounter turbulent waters and storms that threaten his peace. Having been drowned with Christ in the waters of baptism, James, and we, the baptized, are assured that Christ will hold us through whatever life or death brings.

~Pastor Cheryl Ann Griffin

[1] Taylor, Barbara Brown. Home By Another Way. Boston: Cowley Publications, 1999. Pp 166-167. Print.