Easter Sermon 2024: And I hope…

Text: Luke 24:1-12
Video of this sermon here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p1nOJf7y0cQ
I apologize for the unedited nature of this copy… I have another sermon to preach Sunday. 🙂

“But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they came to the tomb, taking the spices that they had prepared. ²They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, ³but when they went in, they did not find the body. ⁴While they were perplexed about this, suddenly two men in dazzling clothes stood beside them. ⁵The women were terrified and bowed their faces to the ground, but the men said to them, “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen. ⁶Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, ⁷that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day rise again.” ⁸Then they remembered his words, ⁹and returning from the tomb, they told all this to the eleven and to all the rest. ¹⁰Now it was Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women with them who told this to the apostles. ¹¹But these words seemed to them an idle tale, and they did not believe them. ¹²But Peter got up and ran to the tomb; stooping and looking in, he saw the linen cloths by themselves; then he went home, amazed at what had happened.”

—

Every year as I leave the house on this morning – Easter morning – I take a picture of the lights of the city from my front stoops and post it with the saying, “while it was still dark.”

In the gospel stories, the story of this morning is prefaced while it was still dark or as in the Luke text today, “at early dawn.” Various methods of acknowledgment of the fact that it’s before the day began. Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself let’s go back a little bit in this story… Not Jesus’ story, my story, let’s go back a little bit to last night.

I was very tired, so I went to bed earlier than normal. I tried to keep myself awake because I knew if I went to bed too early, then I would wake up at midnight and not know what to do with myself, so I kept myself awake till about 10:30 and then went to sleep…  which means it was 2:30 when I woke up and didn’t know what to do. It was more than just the typical fact that I don’t sleep well on Saturday nights because my sermon is churning around in my head, it was more than a typical fact that I tend to wake up around 2:30 or 3:00 and stay awake for a while with thoughts churning in my head… it was more than typical awake-in-the-middle-of-the-nightness…

I actually walked around the house. I relocated myself about three different times trying to see if I could settle into something that would be akin to sleep… I was goldilocks in my own house: I tried the couch, a chair, and my bed three different times… nothing was restful… nothing “fit” my state of mind. 

There was an anticipation in me.

For the women named in the gospel stories, who make the initial journey to the tomb on Sunday morning, while it was still dark –  for them, there was also an anticipation. The text tells us that Jesus died shortly before dusk on Friday, the Jewish day began at evening, so as the sun sets on Friday Saturday is beginning – the sabbath day. The crucifixions are cut short. The text tells us because they didn’t want them hanging up throughout the Sabbath day and the burial of Jesus is rushed in that “while it was still light” moment… they got the body into a tomb with haste, sealed it up, and began the sabbath.  A day without work. 

I’ve always been struck that for the disciples, for these women,  that sabbath day had to be excruciating.  Jesus is dead, hope is gone, the divine messianic promises dashed to nothingness…  so many questions in that space, so much despair, and all they had to do was walk around the house and find if there was a place they could settle in… but the anticipation is more even than that, because the cosmic implications of dashed messianic dreams – long-awaited messiah – they also just… weren’t able to bury their friend in the right way.  They didn’t get to wash and cleanse his body… prepare the spices, wrap him in love and linen – and grieve. 

They were a mess… and a mess with anticipation – and so they were waiting… and left early on Sunday morning while it was still dark because it’s not like they were getting any sleep.

Luke tells us that these women took what they need to the tomb to attend Jesus body, but when they got there, the stone was rolled away from the tomb, there was no body there. The text also tells us they were perplexed.

What a word: perplexed.

I have to imagine there wasn’t a word they could put to what they were feeling…  anticipation had built over days… weeks really, anticipation and disappointment… and abject despair… and then when they came to put the one thing right that was in their control: that they could not do either.  His body was gone… and they were…. Undone? 

In Acts, Luke uses the same word we call “perplexed” but it is generally translated, “at a loss of how to investigate this.”

Does that just put it right?  That speaks to me so well about the abject despair, and overwhelmingness of this new discovery, of this moment… because it’s not just that things are not as they are supposed to be it’s that I don’t even know where to begin to figure out why, to figure out how, to figure out even what is this.

I don’t know how long the women stood there… how long they stared into the abyss as it stared back into them… I do not know how long they sat perplexed… but I suspect they would be standing there still except the text tells us that “while they were perplexed…  while they’re in an ongoing state of unknowing how to even investigate – suddenly two men in dazzling clothes stood before them, and they dropped to the ground terror-stricken.

…

Why do you look for the living among the dead? He’s not here… he has risen.

Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of Man will be handed over to sinners and be crucified, and on the third day rise again?

Why do you look for the living among the dead?

Why are you perplexed?

Remember how he told you?

Remember.

We’ve run across this word multiple times in our Lenten journey. We run across this word constantly in our lives, not simply in theological ways but all the time.  What is it that we remember and how does what we remember and what we do not remember continue to form us.  We have been talking through our Lenten journey about Peter in particular and about Peter’s arc from fisherman, who wanted nothing to do with Jesus, to patriarch of the church who would die on its behalf.  We have tried to follow Peter’s footsteps in his journey of growth and looked at these blips, these instances, these interactions between Peter and Jesus that were so often seen as Peter’s failures… but were formative for Peter in the way of Jesus:

Peter not being able to walk on water, but is immediately rescued by Jesus

Peter wanted to form booths for Elijah and Moses and Jesus on the mount of Transfiguration because he couldn’t figure out what was going on there because he was perplexed there.

Peter told Jesus he could not suffer and die because Peter needed him and Jesus rebuked him for setting his mind on human things not divine things.

Along this journey, we could say Peter failed fervently, but none of them were failures of formation. In fact, I would argue that the depth of character, leadership, and abundant nerve of Peter to confront the world on Jesus’ behalf in the days that are to come following Jesus, resurrection and ascension… are only possible because of the, not in spite of, the way Peter failed forward into who he is today as he created memory, deep and abiding memory of the steadfast love of Jesus, the resolute vision of God, and an unrelenting care for all of creation.  Peter never failed. He was formed. His memory was formed.

Do you not remember how he told you while he was still in Galilee?

Speaking of going backwards. The Greek Philosopher Socrates continues to have a lot of impact on Western civilization – and while he did not write anything down we know much about him from his students – like Plate, who did.  Sound familiar?  There is much similarity between Socrates and Jesus… separated by 500 years – they lived similar lives… other than the whole Son of God part.  Socrates, like Jesus, asked a lot more questions than he gave answers. They both deviated from the traditions that they grew up in , not as a rejection of them per se, but as a fulfillment of those traditions on a trajectory most unwilling to follow.  We know that that rabble-rousing nature of their questions led to both Socrates and Jesus’ executions.  And I am struck by this question, “do you not remember” and it’s corollary moments like last week when we were in the Palm Sunday text and John made a point to tell us that no one understood what was going on in that procession and they would not until Jesus’ glorification, until Jesus Crucifixion and his resurrection, and then… they, John tells us, “they would remember”  By which he implies – then everything would fall into place – that which was perplexing… would reveal itself.  

So I’m struck by a conversation that Socrates has on the eve of his death, when the Athens has deemed that his troubling of the minds of the youth and the people of Athens was a capital crime, and he must die.  Socrates gets in a conversation recounted in the book Phaedo, and he talks about learning and knowledge.  This isn’t strange, that’s pretty much what Socrates always talks about, but I have always loved this one because Socrates here describes his belief that we are not born as blank slates but that we actually have knowledge: all the knowledge.  It’s just that we don’t remember any of it and the process of learning is not the process is being taught something we don’t know, but the process of learning is being reconnected with the memory of the knowledge we already had – which is why, when we learn it, it makes sense – it falls into place.. its like discovering something that always was true and that we always knew… deep in our bones.  I don’t want to get lost in the weeds of how that works or doesn’t work from my cognition standpoint – but I love the idea that we have a genetic memory, that we have an ancestral memory that we as a people who are created in the divine image, have a logos – a word, a knowledge, that resides deep in our DNA and our formation and our education, our learning, and growth as people intellectually, emotionally, spiritually – is all about remembering.

Do you not remember what he told you while he was still in Galilee.

All of our texts of Jesus’ life and death and resurrection are full of so much foreshadowing. It’s amazing to the reader of this story that anyone in the story doesn’t know everything that’s going on at any given moment, Jesus has talked in the Gospels three times that he will die and rise again, 3 times he told this to his closest friends – those who do not remember.  And yet they do not know it.

Which brings me back to that word again: perplexed. 

When we are overwhelmed when we are so at a loss for how to even investigate, it’s not that we don’t have knowledge available to us. It’s that we’re frozen in our personhood about how take the next step – any step.  Grief, trauma, fatigue… Oh, what it would be like if they’d only been able to have a good night sleep, these things paralyze us… and they are perplexed.  They are cut off from their own memory… from what they know to be true.

The Luke account of Jesus resurrection goes on: It tells us now who these people are you that we have seen are so out of sorts. They didn’t even have names… automatons, not fully people in their grief who just knew that while it was still dark, but going to be light soon, they had to do what should’ve been done days ago, and so enlightened now by the angel’s testimony they remember not only Jesus’ words and life, they remember who they are again:  Mary Magdalene, and Joanna, Mary mother of James, and the other women.

Remembered into their selves again, remembered into the abundant and rising life of Christ again, they went back to tell the apostles this story. They went to kindle the memory of their friends about their friend Jesus, but the words, it says, seemed like an idle tale to the apostles, and they did not believe them, but…

But we know Peter is well versed in being wrong,  we know that Peter has started to form his memory in the way of Jesus to constantly imagine the unimaginable so sparked by their story Peter doesn’t scoff. Peter runs to the tomb, stoops in, and sees the linen cloths by themselves.

And he then went home amazed.

That’s what the text says: then he went home, amazed at what had happened. 

Amazed I love this word too. It’s the perfect parallel to the perplexedness of the women -at first – when they looked in the tomb with the hint of memory which they already sparked in Peter….

If we get into the Greek of that word, amazed… we would find that it could also mean: “astonished out of one’s senses.”  Amazed and Perplexed mean almost the same things but at completely different ends of the spectrum of awe… to awful.  They are both visceral emotional reactions, they are not intellectual processes.  Perplex is “I am stunned and deflated beyond my mind working to process what is before me.”  And Amazed is “I’m blown away!”

I like that there’s a maze to the word, amazed. Peter is also speechless and yet it’s a speechlessness founded on deep memory, while it was still dark – hope sprang loose from the clutches of death!

Every year when I take my picture standing on the stoop of it being dark I am struck, by how fitting this narrative of this story is…. while it was still dark!  Because Easter doesn’t happen when you expect it to, it doesn’t happen when things are going well, resurrection – by its very name – happens when everything has been lost, and BEFORE we even check to see what’s what…. life is already finding a new way to break forth from the grave.

The women don’t get ahead of Jesus.

Peter doesn’t get ahead of God.

We don’t know how the story ends no matter how many times we’ve read it because the story is still breaking forth in our lives. We cannot catch up to life abundant!

This story is still out in front of us, while it is yet dark, before you are yet embraced your genetic, ancestral memory of resurrection, that resurrection power is at work in you – springing you to hope.

One of the other things we’ve been doing throughout this season is framing our sermons around the hymn “Come, thou Fount of Every Blessing.” 

Today’s sermon title comes from the middle verse of that hymn.  It is the one that always gets people wondering because it says here “I raise my Ebeneezer” and people have no idea what that is.  Ebenezer is a reference to the 1 Samuel chapter 7… when the Lord saved Israel from an invading army of Philistines Samual raises a stone to help the people remember that day and he names the stone Ebenezer saying, “Thus far the Lord has helped us.” 

The Ebenezer is like a standard, a herald, a memorial so that we do not forget our ancestral knowledge… our memory – that in God life wins out over death.  And when we plant that standard and… it tethers us to hope.

Here I raise my Ebenezer, Here by Thy great help I’ve come

And I hope by Thy good pleasure, Safely to arrive at home

Jesus sought me when a stranger, Wandering from the fold of God

He to rescue me from danger, Interposed His precious blood

Memory is what stands between us and despair. Memory is what stands between us, and being at loss for where to even begin to investigate. 

Memory is what holds us in the place of hope that tombs cannot hold back life and that God is on the loose.

Memory is what tethers us to the faith that when Jesus rises, Jesus raises us up to, and that this truth is out in front of us even today, while it was still dark.

And I hope…

The text says Peter walked home. I have no idea what it means by that, Peter‘s home is days away.

Maybe it just means he walked to the home of where they were staying,

maybe he and his amazedness, his astounded beyond his senses-ness walked all the way home to Galilee,

maybe it’s that now in this memory reborn – having restored this deep and abiding knowledge, that he will never again lose, this knowledge that even death cannot separate him from his friend, from the power of God…  maybe it means that Peter was never not home again for the rest of his life – wherever he may be. 

And I hope…

In a world that looks all too much like it is still dark, while the world is caught up in wars and rumors of wars, envy and strife, while hunger and poverty hold many in the grip of the tomb… while far too many leaders seem deaf to the pain of their people, while neighbors go unloved, and strangers go targeted by distrust….

While it was still dark… and I hope…

Life IS breaking down those walls, opening up that soil, and springing forth anew… this is our Ebenezer… this is our hope… this is our unrelenting belief.

let us run and catch up to God on the loose at work emptying tombs and spreading love and life.  W

e have work to do, do you not remember?

He is Risen, He is Risen Indeed.

Kukla Christmas Letter 2023

I don’t post much here anymore… because my Facebook profile is basically a minute-by-minute blog. :) But I do still like to share our family Christmas letter with all my friends so if you missed it elsewhere, enjoy.

Kukla Christmas Letter 2023

Is it safe yet to say it?  That we made it through another year? We are pretty close, but this year has had plenty of curve balls and there is certainly time left for one more… I did a graveside service this morning for a family I had never met.  Two siblings who live on opposite coasts coming together in what was their childhood home for their mother’s death – red-eye flights taken on a moment’s notice to spend a final day of life together right on top of the biggest holiday of the year.    Life always has another curve ball or two waiting for us – and yet those old faithful words from Wendell Barry come to mind, “do not tax their lives with forethought of grief.”  What a beautiful thought – let what is coming, come.  But no need to give it power over today – particularly if it turns out never to be.  And so, here we are… on the precipice of a new year – we made it!  We are all under the same roof for the moment and we all took different journeys to get here but get here we did!

Warren has finished his first semester of college!  Warren closed out high school enjoying every moment.  He started his senior year with much anxiety about looming decisions but once he accepted enrollment at the University of Utah he mostly laid back and enjoyed the ride through the rest of his Senior year.  Freshman year at Utah involved finding his niche (with hits and misses), learning how good he had it at home (“at home there are infinite snacks!”) and holding his own amidst the new workload of college classes (“I studied so much I was dreaming in differential equations.”).  Warren declared his major as Biology with a concentration in genetics and genomes – and jumped into the world of lab sciences.  He loves the labs way more than the theory, but none of us are surprised by that.  He played some soccer, already hit the Salt Lake City slopes… and is overall enjoying college for all he isn’t a real big fan of communal living. He is already working on summer lab jobs and potentially finding an off-campus apartment with his 3 closest friends.

Elizabeth is having the time of their life – thriving in all the ways possible.  It would be hard to imagine where E is today from a year and half ago, a reminder that when we huddle up together (you are not alone), get the right resources (therapists are awesome, y’all), and persevere (just keep swimming; just keep swimming) we never know what is awaiting us in the future.  E skipped a year of math to go right into Calculus as a sophomore, and their teacher has now given them independent work to skip year two of calculus and take Discreet Math next year.  We didn’t see that coming – but E does have a mind for details and mathy parents.  But that wasn’t the biggest surprise – E is taking 8 classes across 7 periods, and they are all supposed to be hard… AP Chem, AP Calculus, AP World., AP Capstone… etc.  But largely E is just coasting, and if you ask them about class they will mostly just give you a critique of the pedagogical theory of that particular teacher (some things don’t change)… so we got to that moment we had to ask: do you want to cut short high school and move to college sooner?  (The kind of question I don’t want to ask but felt we had to…) and, here is the surprise, E said no because they would miss all their friends.  Social life?  E?  Absolutely – like I said, thriving.  Add in that they even picked up a job this last month to start earning some money, and joined the A/V team at church to work sound for outside events and E probably won 2023 among the Boise Kuklas… except it isn’t a contest. 😉

Meredith had a rough year – 8^th grade is hard y’all – I think that is what I am learning now by my third kid going through it… so much shifting and changing under feet.  Some things don’t change: Meredith is THE reader in the family.  She may even read more than I did at her age… though its probably pretty even.  If you go in Mere’s room you would see a room designed with all manner of stacks of books and clever shelves.. each stack categorized by theme… and every time Mere gets more they reorganize the whole room.  The interesting thing?  Mere only buys books they have already read.  They read about 4 books a week from online libraries… and when they love a book then they buy it for future re-readings.  And preferably “original hardbacks”.  Mere has continued in gymnastics and after some initial wrestlings with her biology class is having a great academic year – split between the junior high and the Treasure Valley Math and Science Center (as Elizabeth did before her).  Meredith probably has the largest and most diverse social groups among us… she still connects with the HG class friends who were spread across the whole valley, her TVMSC friends, and actually – through hardship – made more friends.  After losing a frend who died by suicide Meredith did grief counseling with a that classmates friend group – who Mere was only tangentially a part of.. and through the six weeks of group counseling gained new friends who came through that journey together.  It does not take away the sting of losing a friend… and the sting of the hurt caused by a small cluster of deaths by suicide in our junior high and high school this year – but it reminds you in the times of adversity to draw close, to make connections, and realize that you aren’t doing this alone – the force is strong in this one, and Mere is walking into 2024 in good hands. 

Danielle is (I always say this, right)… Danielle.  She is largely unfazable – and manages who bring joy everywhere she goes.  That is so much true of her that I, now and then, go back to remember what Danielle (the name) means.. in Hebrew is “God is my judge” but the implication is that the person doesn’t worry about what other people think of them.  That fits! (You know I believe in the power of names.. let’s digress a moment…)

***INTERLUDE***

Warren – “game keeper, defender, loyal” Yup. Also… less primary – like a rabbit warren… our kiddo is a maze of feelings and talents and often get overwhelmed and lost in all the possibilities.  But in clarity of purpose – he is a fierce defender (on the soccer pitch or in life).

Elizabeth – “God is my oath” This one is a little trickier… except that E does always have a clarity of purpose… this was first sussed out by their fifth grade teacher who kept calling E “nit-picky” but she will point out inconsistencies with dry matter of fact pronouncement and hold you to the facts of the matter in all cases… I could see E going down a lawyer’s path some day. 

Meredith… of Welsh origin to mean something like “Great Lord”.  And oh boy… does that work… but we also call her “Mere-Bear” a lot… and she is bear.

**END INTERLUDE***

Anyway, Danielle tends to not worry about what other people think… but in a gracious way – not a “go take a long walk on a short pier” kind of way.  She wanted to play goalie only in soccer and they were making her play the field… so she left soccer behind – she who always seemed to relish it… and now she does Takewondo and volleyball.  She love the forms of Teakewondo and not the sparring.  She is also quite possibly the most ehlpful kid I have ever met.  (yes, I am biased) and she will lend a hand with whatever.. and usually before you even ask.  She is enjoying 5^th grade but she is ready to move on… like a youngest child always wanitn got be with her siblings she has decided she is ready to level up to be a youth and not a child.

I’m getting long and I refuse to go to a third page… Caroline continues at AllState… it is possible she will work there after the second coming of Jesus. And she is still super-mom… she cooks meals for the youth group as well – and she recently agreed to take on a three-year term as the Treasurer for the Presbytery of Boise.  So… she juggles all the things.  As always.

My year… well you already know enough about me.  I will say that I knew this year would be one of overworking, and I’m grateful to all the people who keep checking in on me.  But the world needs cheerleaders… and the world needs champions… and I don’t ever want to not show up for that job.  I got interview on the news yesterday… and in what was an oft-hand moment the reporter asked me, “aren’t you tired after Christmas?” I laughed… and agreed – and of course that made it onto the broadcast.  But then his voice over so captured my theme as this year draws to a close: “But never tired enough to let a beloved tradition melt away…’I want this place to known as a building that leaves its light on…hopefully they know this is a safe place to come., and that – that is why we do it.”

My friend, I hope you had a Merry Christmas and happy holiday of all the sorts you celebrate.  I hope you had the time to circle together with some family… with some friends… with some community.  And if you didn’t – know that you can be a part of ours any time… we will leave the light on for you!

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.

“A Prayer for Those Who Left the Church”

In Acts 20 Paul gets to preaching so long a young man – Eutychus – fell asleep… fell out the window he was sitting in… and fell 3 stories to his death. Paul literally bores him to death. A friend of mine was looking at this as a story about all the people who are “done with church” and that inspired my own thoughts… which led to this week’s article… a “prayer for those who left the church”.

God of new wine… and old wineskins, we pray for those…

…who have fallen away from the church,

…who rejected faith traditions,

…who are done with organized religion.

We pray for them, oh God because we are worried about them…

…worried that we were why they are none and done.

…worried that we were more a tomb than a place of abundant life,

…worried that we alienated folks with our righteous hand-wringing,

Worried that we were so beset by worry…

…there was no Gospel to be found here.

God of Sparrow – God of floral fields –

…bury our worry in the tomb we must no longer be,

…spark our imagination and flame up our desire for your goodness,

…that our halls and hearts may be filled with a yearning to connect,

free of shame and anxiety,

free of cookie-cutter membership,

free of existential wrangling to be all things.

And in that freedom may we find trust again…faith that builds us up,

trust that where words fail your Word is still at work,

trust that circuitous journeys find promised lands,

trust that we are enough… you are enough… and it is good.

Oh God of all yesterdays, todays, and tomorrows,

of elder brothers and prodigals,

of unnamed statues and ordained counsels,

of tabernacle, temple, and wandering Arameans,

God may we be ok that you are at work beyond the ways we understand.

May we be grateful that you are at work beyond the ways that work for us.

And may your peace – which passes understanding, be with us always.

Amen.

Easter Sunday Sermon 2023: Tag, You’re It

Matthew 28:1-10

“After the sabbath, as the first day of the week was dawning, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to see the tomb. And suddenly there was a great earthquake; for an angel of the Lord, descending from heaven, came and rolled back the stone and sat on it. His appearance was like lightning, and his clothing white as snow. For fear of him the guards shook and became like dead men. But the angel said to the women, ‘Do not be afraid; I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is not here; for he has been raised, as he said. Come, see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples, “He has been raised from the dead, and indeed he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him.” This is my message for you.’ So they left the tomb quickly with fear and great joy, and ran to tell his disciples. Suddenly Jesus met them and said, ‘Greetings!’ And they came to him, took hold of his feet, and worshipped him. Then Jesus said to them, ‘Do not be afraid; go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me.’”

You can watch the sermon live here (scriptural differences will happen):

https://youtu.be/cgvgJRrj5SQ?t=2017

Also… no I didn’t fix all the grammar and stuff… you’ll survive. 🙂

When we were in college, Caroline and I met in the second semester of our senior year  – and that’s a good thing.  Not that we met… that was a great thing.  But it was good that we didn’t meet until so late in college on two accounts… Caroline is pretty sure if she had known me any longer in college she would have dumped me like the rebound relationship I am…. But the other is on my side.  You see, Caroline had transferred to William and Mary and didn’t live in student housing. She lived in an apartment right on colonial Williamsburg, and in the second story relevant to this moment because her apartment was right across the street from the Williamsburg Baskin-Robbins, and it’s dangerous to find yourself daily next to 31 flavors of Satan-approved “wilderness temptation” ice cream.

Just as Baskin Robbins offers you their 31 flavors of ice cream when we get to the gospel of Jesus Christ we are we have four flavors of the gospel Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John tell the same story, but with decidedly different flavors, and almost nowhere is that more true than at the beginnings and ends of the story.  Each of the resurrection accounts gives us vastly different feelings and flavors to their recounting:

Mark’s gospel is unrefined and rushed… a first draft that never got to the editors and he leaves us with largely darkness, questioning an unresolved resurrection.  There is no resurrected Jesus experience… the tomb is empty, but the disciples do not feel the strength of the proclamation of resurrection rather they run away afraid and tell no one what they heard.

Luke is the way Luke is – a recorder of all sorts of details, and as Luke continues to tell the story in the Book of Acts, it is not surprising that Luke gives us not just the resurrection account, but the road to Emmaus and the ongoing fallout of the confident assertion that resurrection has indeed taken place.

John’s Gospel is a favorite of our high and holy weeks – John’s gospel is the story is the pinnacle of refinement – there was plenty of time for the theologians to get ahold of the story and fill it out, John’s Gospel gives us much of the story as we remember it 

Matthew’s gospel sits in a little different place than those: not quite Mark’s bare bones fear and trembling but not quite Luke’s on-going resuscitation of the day or John’s full retrospective written many many years later.  And Matthew injects a new element to this story, Matthew’s Gospel brings us apocalypse.

I’m sure you felt it in the recounting of Jesus’ death which on Friday caused the world to tremble in Matthew’s gospel. We are reminded that the earth helped to create in Genesis that it was the earth herself that brought forth beasts at God‘s commands just as the seas brought forth the fish And we are reminded of the ongoing story in Genesis when God tells Cain that the Earth cries up out to him of Able’s death blood.  The world is alive and a living agent of creation, not just something we tread upon, and so it seems the world itself cannot contain the grief of Jesus’ death, the temple veil torn in two, earthquakes, the dead rising and walking – the living appearing to be dead. 

By any measure of the word, scriptural, or Hollywood, this is apocalyptic.

And the apocalypse doesn’t end with Jesus’ death, but it continues with Jesus rising – this is no subtle and questionable empty tomb but overturning of the rules of life and death.  The stone is not simply rolled away, but an earthquake itself has happened. Striking like lightning, no one could miss this breathtaking and awe-inspiring invasion of Earth by Heaven.   

But we don’t get time to sit back and take it in.  Matthew’s Gospel apocalyptic also has a sense of urgency. A sense that this string of dominos is running downhill fast now… Jesus has work to do… place to go and people to see… and so do we.

Do not be afraid, the angel says – fear is the tool of death and this is about life… so don’t let me scare you, I know that you were looking for Jesus – the crucified one.  He is not here, you’re too late – he’s on the road for he has been raised.  Go quickly. Tell his disciples he’s been raised from the dead, and indeed, is going ahead of you to Galilee – there you will see him.

They run and then suddenly Jesus meets them on the road and they worshiped him, but Jesus doesn’t have time to be worshiped. It seems the resurrection is not a spectator sport. Jesus repeats: do not be afraid.  Go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee for there you will see me

Tag You’re it!  The game is afoot and this game proceeds at a quick pace: Jesus is on the loose.  Life is on the loose. I have to imagine that if I was there, I would be gasping for breath, gasping, grasping, grabbing for a firm rock to hold myself up while I try to imagine what I am perceiving.

I would ask Jesus for a time-out!  Like a basketball coach when another team is on the 12-0 run and you feel it all slipping out of your fingers. It has slipped out of their fingers this last holy week, and now when – despairing as it is – they finally know what is what because the dead are dead – even that is no longer true.  I have to imagine that this was a day they thought would proceed slowly… full of grief they would get to the tomb they would begin to do the burial preparations, the right way, the way they were unable to because the sabbath had begun upon his death on Friday night. They thought today would be excruciating. They thought it would be excruciatingly slow, and all of the sudden they are like shot out of a cannon: Jesus isn’t in the tomb, what’s going on… Jesus is alive. What are you talking about? Jesus is on the road. You’ve got to go catch up to him. Stop! Wait! Hold on on moment.  I’m still back in the tomb trying to figure this out.

Mathew’s story is apocalyptic and urgent: tag you’re it – it’s time for you to get on board.

Worshiping authentically through the Easter story is challenging.  We don’t really want to do the work of suspending what we know to allow ourselves to feel what we are covering up.  We have worshipped through this Holy Week in a challenging rehearsal of this ancient story – but culturally we mostly just show up for Easter and skip the unraveling betrayal, desertion, and death. 

We knew the tomb was empty. It always has been empty in our entire lifetime. There is no Jesus on our cross we already knew that… Jesus won a victory over death and we have lived our whole lives in the light of that truth.  What’s to get on board with Andrew?  This is an old old story. In all it’s routineness nothing here is apocalyptic or urgent.  Not in the least.

Perhaps we need a little bit of Mathew, a little bit of break us out of domesticating this story, because if we are being honest with ourselves, our lives cannot be saved by a domesticated God!  We need God to break out of the chains of our comfort and safety and do some world-overturning healing of the fabric of creation.

For all want for an easy and comfortable and tame – we need more – the world needs more.

We may not think we have time and energy for anything more than being a spectator but we are more deeply mired in the quagmire of life and death than any quaint resuscitation of empty tombs can handle.  This is a bigger mess than the can be cleaned up by any domestic gods.  We descended into Maundy Thursday… we descended further into Good Friday. We descended not because of the atypicalness of those stories, but because of the deep and abiding relevance and prevalence of that kind of distrust and betrayal fracturing our lives, the regularity in which we encounter hatred and enmity which is running amok in God’s world, our world.

On Good Friday, my colleague TJ from Southminster stood there and preached and reminded us that unfortunately, Jesus death was not once and for all, but it is daily and regularly occurring over and again in the populations and people in our world.  People are being crucified wherever they are being targeted by hate, wherever they are being abandoned by the protections of our society, and wherever we are ostracizing those who do not fit our normative understandings of good and righteous.  Wherever these acts are occurring Christ is being crucified again such is the solidarity Christ’s love demonstrates and lives with the oppressed.  We descended into Maundy Thursday and we were leaves on the wind unsure of what was going on. We no longer knew anything.   I don’t know about you, but every time I read the news, I am aware of how little my knowledge matters anymore. How did we get here?  COVID exacerbated fracturing of our social contract as left us in disarray unable to trust the simplest things we always knew.  How do we find restoration in our lives? We are adrift nowhere near the shore, holding the rope in our hands, wondering how we got here.

The biblical story of Holy Week speaks to this reality… to just such a place of despair. The story speaks to people being too tired to give time and energy anymore… to distrustful to invest in the future… to unsure they can believe anything or anyone.  Fear rules.  Do not be afraid. 

The story speaks about the dangers of love.

When I think about many of the tombs I see people in today: I see kids fearing another school shooting… I see doctors fearing the practice of medicine made illegal… women feelings unvalued and unrecognized… I see unhoused neighbors demonized as drug addicts and criminals… and hungry children with too few places willing to get them a meal of nourishing food beyond the initial first moment… I see teenage identity crises become harder and harder.  I see the targeting of minorities made legitimate – antisemitism, transgender fear-mongering, refugees unwelcome, police being made the villains, name-calling across the aisles of our government, the tearing apart of social fabrics such that what we cannot know much and what we don’t?  We have no trust for… and fear reigns… Do not be afraid. 

But love is dangerous in this game.  Because frankly… most of those tombs don’t have to matter to me.  I’m highly educated… have a position of authority and trust… I bought my house when the market was begging for me to do so… and I’m a white male with a supermom wife and four pretty awesome kids… well… most days on that one.   

You see most of the list in that isn’t really a problem for me – at most one or two of them… and so… they don’t have to be my problem… because I don’t have to care.  I ended up in a lifeboat… and mine has no holes.  Maybe that wasn’t true for others… maybe it wasn’t true for most – but that doesn’t have to be my problem… does it? 

There are large gaping holes in our society – tombs placing people in an early grave… and we splintered into affinity groups create less by what we value and more by what we despise.  We are not pursuing value-based ethics but are people on the attack.  It is into this state of affairs that Niccolo Machiavelli’s seminal and jaded ends justify the means book The Prince opines: 

“It is much safer to be feared than loved because … love is preserved by the link of obligation which, owing to the baseness of human, is broken at every opportunity for their advantage; but fear preserves you by a dread of punishment which never fails.”

You see… Machiavelli is a brilliant man – and he understands the game afoot… he is simply playing for the other team.  Love is dangerous because caring is a burden most of us wish not to pick up: I just don’t have the bandwidth, I don’t have the time, and I can’t make a difference in this world anyway – so why try.  This week confronts that narrative and turns it on its head.

Soren Kierkegaard tells a parable that goes something:  like this if you were to hand someone a sharp and needed instrument, you would not do so in the same way you handed over a bouquet of flowers, all nonchalantly presenting it with flourish upon your beloved.  No, you would hand it to them in a way that conveyed both your sense of recommendation of the excellence of this instrument, but also the foreboding sense that it is dangerous, and must be handled with care and caution.  in precisely the same way Kierkegaard imagines this is how it is with Christianity. We should hand it over to each other in a way that says both: this is simple and wonderful and joyous and the world needs it. Also, it’s dangerous: handle it with care or maybe run the other way.

There is no greater sense to what that instrument is than the cross we stare at on every single Sunday.  The cross, which was for Rome an instrument of humiliation, excruciating pain, and death.  The cross, which became for Christ, the symbol of love we are to pick up daily. Christ tells his disciples if you want to follow me you have to carry the cross – that two-edged instrument of life and death.  Love is a many splendid thing, but it’s dangerous for I will teach you to care so much you will give your life for the world as I have done. The cross weighs heavy, to love the world so deeply is heartbreaking. Heart-rending.  To love the world so deeply is maddening and vain… to reveal oneself so fully is a cause of fear and trembling, such vulnerability is too much to ask.  We hide behind locked doors, we hide behind tinted windows, we hide behind increasingly expensive and elaborate clothing to wall ourselves off from vulnerability. Christ’s love invites us to identify so unreservedly with the poor and the outcast to identify so completely with the marginalized and oppressed… it is to throw your life away!

That’s the message of Friday – the consequence of unconditional love and unrelenting care for justice and equality… is loneliness and death. 

But we get it back.

All of it back.

And that is the message of today.

Today’s message is that for all that it feels futile and despairing. The tombs of this world will be harrowed by God’s abundant life, the message of this day is that we will take places of death and make them trampolines of life and love is the way we do this. The message of this day is that there is work to do: turning the world upside down. Making ourselves earthquakes to the unjust status quo.  We should not have come today bearing lilies and our Sunday best… but shovels – to unearth and empty all the tombs.  And we are just getting started. It’s an all-hands-on-deck event

Tag,  you’re it.  Love, this Sunday tells us, is the instrument we all need and yes it will be scary (Do not be afraid) and yes, it will feel like throwing away our life (you will get back all that really matters) and yes you will never sleep well again for lack of worry (but you also won’t be alone)  that there is just so much to do, and yet it’s like awakening from a monochromatic world into a rainbow splendor of God’s creation!  And it is rooting ourselves so deeply in parts of our life that we have not allowed to live until today – we can feel the tingling in our bones – can you?  Its like parts of our body coming awake because we haven’t allowed ourselves to truly live..  This day is about turning graves into neonatal wards, being born again like Nicodemus, born again to a desire to make life sing with potential for everyone, it’s to go on a grand adventure, chasing after Jesus down the roads of Galilee carrying a shovel to dig people out from the graves in which they, we, are mired along the way, knowing that if you are the next one to get stuck, there are others caught up in the same kind of loves as you traveling the same road playing the same game of tag: We can all care.. ALL.  Machiavelli may be right – its safer to make people fear you than love you… but Jesus’ way is the only way to a world worth living in – being truly alive and risking it all for the possibility of a place rooted in trust and love.  Jesus tells us safety was never the point, it is more deeply meaningful to live life together to invest in the well-being of all creation.

This is what lets God sit back on the sixth day and say it is very good. It’s also what makes God bang their head against the wall in frustrated hope… but God never stops hoping… and God never stops living… and God never stops rescuing those entombed. 

Jesus invites us on a journey of freeing creation from the grasp of safety and fear and domestication… to let it be wild and woolly; alive and free. I came across a great reflection from novelist Dean Koontz, talking about golden retrievers,

Golden retrievers are not bred to be guard dogs, and considering the size of their hearts and their irrepressible joy in life, they are less likely to bite than to bark, less likely to bark than to lick a hand in greeting. In spite of their size, they think they are lap dogs, and in spite of being dogs, they think they are also human, and nearly every human they meet is judged to have the potential to be a boon companion who might, at any moment, cry, “Let’s go!” and lead them on a great adventure.!

Friends may we be like golden retrievers on this day… may we pick up our cross infused with love and care and follow Jesus on a grand adventure, risking a reckless love that cares for everyone and yearning to see the world free at last to pursue our dreams together in irrepressible joy in the little things and the big things and the turned upside downness of the world in which we are not afraid… and we are not seeking safety… and we loving the world into a new day. 

May we be cataclysmically caught up in the abundant life of Easter and resurrection, that no one will not take notice something weird is going on with us and maybe pausing to say: I want a little bit of that too!

 May we see in everyone we meet not an adversary to be contested,

but a boon companion, who might at any moment cry let’s go!

Tag, you’re it.

Amen

Reparative Witness

There is a classification of religious critique from within religion – particularly the mainline liberal Protestant tradition that I lump into a giant bin called Hypocrisy.  This classification will invariably observe that people leave the church not because they do not like the Christian faith but because churches more clearly follow the values of the dominant culture (individualism, consumerism, dominating power, personal righteousness) than the movement of Jesus followers counter-culturally centering faith and values that are communal, non-violent, servant-led, forgiveness-embracing, and empowering of minority voices. 

We are hypocrites.  We play power games.  We are judgmental.  We center our worldview and comfort.

This is hardly a newsflash.  It’s been true since… well the original disciples? (Which of us is greatest… should we stop ‘those people’ from doing things in your name?)  Acts 6?  (Bread to our people first, then maybe to “those” people.) Constantine?  (The adoption of the ancient church into Imperial religion.)  I have no issue with this classification of critique.  And I agree with it as being part of the 21st-century flight from, and disinterest in, organized religion. I don’t have time to develop that thought here but even restricting ourselves to a cursory glance at the American church as it moved from the “idealized” 1950s, struggled with racial and gender biases during the Civil Rights movements, with great notoriety, ran headlong into the very public financial and sexual abuse scandals of the 80s and 90s, followed closely by yet more denominational splits over, well… everything, but most particularly LGBTQIA+ equality.  The memes and tweets in question are absolutely right on.  And who can blame a person for checking out of that!

I have a single problem with these memes and tweets: I also think they are out-of-date… by about 30 years. I work next to a high school… I get to interact with high schoolers a fair amount.  They mostly have zero experience of the church.  None.  Their parents left for these reasons, and more (or less), but they will largely tell you they don’t go and have never gone – unless its with their grandparents.  They didn’t leave the church – they have never been.  And when they say things like “hypocrisy” they are mostly just parroting what they have heard their parents say.  In fact… today I find many of those same high schoolers are highly curious about the church and faith – but almost like Nicodemus coming to Jesus in the night – they don’t want to be SEEN being curious… or going. 

This is why I think one of the greatest callings in 2023 of the church(es) needs to be a return to the evangelism of Jesus (that is evangelism, sharing of good news, done ‘the Jesus way’).  I often call it “restorative (or reparative) witness”.  The world needs to know – the church is hypocritical… but not more (or less) than they are.  And we know that!  Furthermore, we are committed to wrestling with that toward a future in which the way in which we are the Body of Christ more clearly reflects who Jesus is in the world.  We tarnished that image – and we are called to repair the breach we created.  And I think – more than that, I have committed my life – to the idea that not only is the church wrestling with its hypocrisy and seeking to restore its wholeness (our wholeness) a worthwhile thing but that it is an essential reality.  The world without the ecclesia (the community… the church) is a much sadder, harsher, and more unjust place than the one with it.  And if that doesn’t feel fully true – then make it so!

In the ever-haunting good words of Flannery O’Connor:

“I think that the Church is the only thing that is going to make the terrible world we are coming to endurable; the only thing that makes the Church endurable is that it is somehow the body of Christ and that on this we are fed. It seems to be a fact that you have to suffer as much from the Church as for it, but if you believe in the divinity of Christ, you have to cherish the world at the same time that you struggle to endure it.” (page 90, Habits of Being – from a letter to Elizabeth Hester on how Flannery’s Southern gothic writing is not “in spite of” her faith – but because of it.  “If you live today you breathe in nihilism.  In and out of the Church it’s the gas you breathe.  If I hadn’t had the Church to fight it with or to tell me the necessity of fighting it, I would be the stinkingest logical positivist you ever saw right now” (HB, 97).

Kukla Christmas Letter 2022

It’s the annual Kukla Family (after) Christmas Letter – settle in for a long winter’s nap…

I don’t know about you – I have my suspicions, but I have been wrong before – but we are tired. Anything I say after this about how much I love my kids, about their activities, about holiday spirit, about the phenomenal partner and beloved I have in Caroline, about the ways you inspire me and I love my larger community co-workers, and joy: let me ensure that the record is clear… this year was like one long mile 11 on Robbie Creek half marathon. It wasn’t the sharp incline of mile 9 where running is barely possible (and the photographer takes your picture because your barely moving)… mile 9 we know why we are exhausted and we understand why we feel so unproductive. It isn’t mile 10 when it’s a sharp downhill and you feel the partial elation of incredible speed mixed with the terrible reality that you can’t stop if you wanted to… no it’s mile 11. That flat (but feels uphill) drudgery where you are close but miles away and you are not sure why but you just don’t really have it in you – people are cheering and it makes you mad – don’t cheer me, just shut up! (Seriously… mile 11 isn’t pretty – or at least I am not pretty on mile 11.) You don’t want to hear it.. you just need to keep moving. I will be honest – a great deal of 2022 was one long mile 11. That doesn’t mean it wasn’t also precious and wonder-full and rewarding… but…. One long mile 11 y’all.

Danielle – let’s start with Danielle because she is the biggest pick-me-up ever. Danielle has long been known as pure, unadulterated, refined joy. Smiley D. Here is a little secret: she throws more tantrums than all our other kids combined (anecdote warning, I don’t actually have data on that)… but here is the other thing. They don’t stick. She is so easy to pull out because while she is free to express disappointment and hurt… it’s almost as if the ease with which she does creates the ease with which she leaves it behind. She teaches me! And so whether it’s not making the volleyball team with her best friend this year, but being elated she made the other team because she just wants to play, or being in the soccer goal against a team we should never have played and having a barrage of goals scored against her and not missing a beat – she is the picture of the value of wearing your heart on your sleeve. And it is her spiritual gift she offers freely to the world. If you don’t know this, that girl would also love to go to space… like she REALLY loves space. Shatner tells us it’s depressing up there… I don’t know him, nor do I know space, but I wonder if space is what you bring to it because as he says, there is nothing there. And as I would add… nothing to distract you from you. So I wonder if space is what you bring to it… kind of like life but with less noise. And I’m sure one day that girl is going to bring joy to space.

Meredith – if Danielle is the easiest to mood shift… Mere is the hardest. That girl has always been solid – since the moment of birth she is one giant toned muscle of unrelenting intention. That isn’t always easy to parent but it’s almost always awesome to watch. This has been the year Mere moved into junior high (half time at Treasure Valley Math and Science Center like Elizabeth), moved into official teenage years, and continues to blossom in so many ways… though apparently that now includes make-up. That’s a new one for us. Understand that with two previous teenagers we have never yet had a kid go on a date… have a “significant other” or be even a slight bit interested in “all that”… our house has never had make-up in it! Which is how we earned Meredith in our life. I’m pretty sure she will be the death of us (in all good ways…or mostly so…). She continues with gymnastics and she basically reads any and all books as if they are one-sitting short stories (I also know a bit about that). She also got her first phone per the family rule: if you get straight As in the first quarter of 7th grade you get a phone early. Between books, gymnastics, and a phone… we actually see Meredith once in a while…. Once in a long while.

Elizabeth – would probably prefer I say nothing, and I will walk the line. E continues to wrestle with anxiety and finding their own way and that continues to be a journey I’d sign up for every day. We have shared much of that journey elsewhere so suffice it to say E has grown a lot in being able to live with anxiety… anxiety of non-conforming gender, social anxiety, and the general sense that E will define themselves against all the expectations. E has done good hard work in coming to a place of greater comfort with all of that – using all the resources available. E continues to work in the church Food Pantry for 4 hours every Monday… something they do well and love and were allowed to do in the place of youth group. They did Pit (the big percussion non-marching part of marching band) in marching band at the high school (despite some rounds in the emotional boxing ring with mom and dad) and ended up being grateful we “made them do it”. (Usually, it takes 10 years to learn that – E told us that on the last day of marching band season and we even kept ourselves from gloating… much.) Next year E starts high school and has paved the way for that jump to land well (high school for us starts in 10th grade.). They did a Boise State Honors Flute chorus, and are gearing up for trying out for the Boise Philharmonic Youth Orchestra in the spring. E writes, reads, plays SIMS, and swings… and jumps around the house like the energizer bunny…. It’s a coping mechanism so we mostly get used to feeling the whole house shake… except occasionally when Warren (whose room is beneath E’s) reaches his limit. All in all, I’m amazed at how well E and E’s siblings work out the fact that they play with very different rule books… and that they do that with understanding and empathy – and that will make all the difference (everywhere).

Warren…. Deep breath – the kid is a senior in high school… that’s not even fair… deep… breath. He is a lot of work. Kid has always been a lot of work. Maybe that is the way of first children. I don’t know – I only had one. He continues to be the person in our family who bore the marks of COVID the most. Not actual COVID, which to our knowledge he has still never had, but the COVID world. Trying to keep motivated… keeping joy… keeping engaged when nothing is “the way it’s supposed to be”. And yet the kid still amazes me in two ways in particular: he took the second year of AP Calculus. He BARELY got through AP calculus last year. His joy and skill with math seemed to crumble under online COVID world and that carried into last year with Calculus… but with a LOT of work he got through it… and then – when he didn’t have to take any math and against our wishes – he took the second year (AP Calc B/C) while dealing with senior-itis on top of it all. We said: why? He said he could do it. And he did. God, I love that kid. He also got a job at Chipotle. It has been a great experience… he doesn’t like managers, he hates scheduling, he doesn’t like mean people (of which there are a lot), and he struggles with the politics of Idaho in the workplace. So many great life lessons… and he has learned to make great burritos. I always said.. “when this kid learns long obedience in the same direction (that’s Nietzsche writing about art) look out, he will change the world.” This year I realized it.. he has arrived.

Caroline is the glue parent – she is why this all gets done. And it ain’t easy. The whiteboard is full… negotiating drivers and carpools and activities and my work schedule makes it all that much harder with so many night meetings and long days and yet she keeps it all spinning to some detriment to her peace of mind. She is a bedrock kind of person and because of her, we are a house built upon stone. She continues at Allstate where she celebrated her 16th year, and has resumed helping in the kitchen at church (since we can do meals again) as well as on the church finance team.

We are tired y’all. But it’s good tired.. mostly. I reflect a lot on responsibility. It’s my job really. You could say my job is about faith… religion… God… you could say it’s about a lot of things, but I will tell you it’s about responsibility. “Love thy neighbor as yourself” I recently read something that points out how often we hear that but still externalize the act of love as me acting on another person. But what if we hear that word about recognizing the neighbor is an extension of yourself. Love thy neighbors AS yourself. That’s the responsibility. This world is full of messaging to take care of yourself. And it’s full of guilt to take care of “others”. But the messaging I predicate my life’s work upon is about taking care of the world AS yourself. Our lives enrich the life of the world. “Seek the welfare of the city in which you live because its welfare is your welfare.” There is no life apart from the other. We are all one. Thus… responsibility. We are an interwoven universe of life responsible to the welfare of all.

Why do I share that? Because life happens… but responsible life is work. It’s heart on your sleeve feeling all the feels and finding joy, its stubborn unrelenting intention, its learning to walk your way and respect others with compassion and empathy, and it’s finding our place and digging down deep in it, it is being the bedrock for each other. My family teaches and witnesses that to me… and I’m so very grateful for them all. And I’m grateful for you too. 2022… has come to a close. I can’t say it was great… but great things happened in it. I can say I’m tired… but I’m not done – mile 12 is waiting… and my metaphor has to go away because I fully intend to keep at this for a long, long time.

My hope for 2023.. my hope for you and me – we are one after all – in 2023 is that we step into that with joy and tenacity and responsibility to each other. It is after all just another day waiting to see what we bring to it. It’s less about what it holds in store for us than what we fill it with – and looking around at the people I’m grateful to call family and friends, neighbors and co-workers. I feel pretty good about what is in store.

Happy Holidays and Happy New Year!

Listening To the Dead Inside Us

My first (not chronologically but in the sense of bright lights whose voice and wisdom still speak to me through the years) mentor and teacher in pastoral care was a gentle giant in many ways. He also was a dauntless prophetic voice quite capable of piercing all your protective illusions. His name was Rev. Dr. Percy Johnson… though I don’t recall using all that title baggage… I remember him as Percy. Percy worked at Grady Memorial Hospital which was, and is, holy ground for me. I did class hours, an internship, and a residency there in Clinical Pastoral Education, and two of my brightest lights of guidance were supervisors and mentors I met there.

Percy, however, did not work at the main hospital – he worked down the road at the Infectious Disease Hospital. Percy wore no visible trappings of religion – he walked among a population that was deeply traumatized by religious people. I can recall him, with crystalline clarity, speaking to us about how he was called into ministry with people suffering from HIV/AIDS. Percy had been Marine Force Recon in Vietnam… and when he started ministry he recalled a person who had HIV who no one would visit for all the fears those days of the AIDS epidemic put on our hearts about people with AIDS… but Percy looked in and saw a fellow veteran… a veteran like him… who was being treated like a pariah… and Percy would not let that happen. With a marine’s (as much as a pastor’s – at least as I recall it in my fading but clear memory) sense of duty and care, he walked in and sat and listened and attended… he did not judge, he did not preach, he did not fix… I mean I don’t know that he didn’t… but I KNOW that he didn’t. I imagine that he was a well of deep compassion and you-are-not-alone-ness, gentle but strong… a Peter-like-rock carving out space to grieve and hope and heal… all without a word. I imagine Percy was, in that moment and many, many others, present to a person for whom few if any others were willing to be present. Present to a person that few if any others weren’t standing outside judging without knowing. Present to a person who very well may have kicked out of our, the Church’s, hallowed halls.

My absolute favorite confessional statement of the Church comes from the Holy Spirit section of the Presbyterian Church (USA) Brief Statement of Faith:

In a broken and fearful world
the Spirit gives us courage
to pray without ceasing,
to witness among all peoples to Christ as Lord and Savior,
to unmask idolatries in Church and culture,
to hear the voices of peoples long silenced,
and to work with others for justice, freedom, and peace.

To unmask idolatries… to hear the voices of peoples long silenced….

Since 1988 December 1st has been designated World AIDS Day. It feels in many ways the world I live in has forgotten AIDS… after all we learned and grew, other pandemics have raged, and we are a people of short memories. And more than just a little, I imagine, many of us feel (if we feel at all on the subject) a sense of guilt when we look back… after all, we stayed on the other side of the glass and we judged. We created silence… the silence of the closet… the silence of people no longer in the room… the silence of a grave before anyone was dead. We held to idolatry and closed our ears to the voices of people long silenced.

I cannot go back to that time, but I will not look away from it. The words we speak are never unlived. The legacy of our silence, of our harm, of our rejection… it echoes and rings out still in the silence and the silencing. Generational harm is real, and generational trauma is powerful… and pervasive. We imagine it was yesterday and so it is water under the bridge… but that simply isn’t how we work, how the human heart works… how our bones work. Because even if we do not – our bodies remember.

A friend has me thinking this morning about trees and silence. And as I was reflecting on that I thought about the growth rings inside the tree. A tree is dead inside. I never knew that until today. The heartwood of the innermost tree is dead (it is the tree that once was) and yet so long as the exterior living tree protects it, that part of the tree itself protected by the inner and outer layers of bark, it will not rot. The living tree embraces its dead and former self and in death, that center still provides the structural heart and strength of the tree.

I’m not fully sure what to do with that but it’s teasing at my heart and mind. Nothing of our history is dead to us… its there in our bones – it is our strength or our downfall… and our history continues to shape us – whether we are aware of it or not. And so we are called to enter the room where we once slammed the door… we are called to listen to the one we once silenced… we are called to care for wounds we once caused (wounds that are still causing present and future harm). We are called to attend to the dead within the living… and let it shape our future.

I mean not to let that wax poetic. I play with words because they play with me… I’m not yet sure what tree rings and the dead being encased in the living is trying to tell me, but I am sure of the harm me and mine have caused and the listening I owe that harm – the reparations I long to attend to… and I have a heart to follow where the bright lights of my life are leading me: to pray and witness and unmask and hear and work… so now I must go, I have a tree to hug and listen to the whispering it is doing in the enforced silence.

Lament and Staying Broken

Moscow (Idaho) is a ghost town… in all the ways we mean it.  Violence struck at the core of it in a way that most felt only happens in “other places”… and the dead linger and even more so the sense of fear of what and why and when next…

The violence of Moscow rang out in Virginia too… as it has on so many campuses and elementary school buildings, and public transportation and… well bars and community gathering places as it did again Saturday night in Colorado. 

On Sunday morning when these prayers went up in worship an Iranian woman in the back of our congregation lifted up her voice in tearful solemnity, “they are killing women and children in Iran…. shooting them in the streets – and it’s the government doing it…” 

A friend and colleague reached out to me in particular about the Colorado shooting.  I’m an advocate and friend and parent in the LGBTQIA community and they worried for me… worried for my family… worried how close to home that might have hit. 

They all hit close to home though: all of them.  

She helped me to articulate that… to pause and feel that… as I start this day I recognized that I wasn’t letting myself feel the pain of it.  I need to feel the pain of it.  We all do. 

Why these things keep happening down through the ages and in our seemingly quiet neighborhoods, in particular, is far above my pay grade… but I can’t help but imagine that a significant portion of that is because we stopped feeling the pain of it.  And we don’t want to feel the pain of our lives… and so we just keep transferring that pain onto others…

Why do I tell you this story, Mary Oliver queries a the end of my favorite poem*, “so that your heart break open and never again shut to the rest of the world”.  We are experts in living like Pharoah – with our hard hearts… we call it resilience.  But I beg you otherwise… I beg you to bleed and whine and hurt and… break down and stop…

It is not ok.  This is not ok.  I am not *fine*

“…by the waters of Babylon… we laid down and wept… and wept… for thee Zion…”

If you need a partner in grief, please reach out.

If you need an ear without answers but a broken open heart…

I am here.

Please let yourself feel the feels in whatever way is authentic to you.

But you need not do it alone.

Moscow is home.  Iran is home.  Colorado is home. 

We are all our neighbors.  These are all our people. 

And I weep for the pain I feel for us all.

Hallowed Halls: An All Saints Day Reflection

There are many things I love about my job.  There are many aspects of my job for which I am grateful that God helps me to do well.  There is no place and part of my job where I feel more fully enveloped in my call, and the holiness of it, than sitting with a family to plan a funeral.  It is the most holy and inspiring work I do… I tell myself, metaphorically, to take off my shoes and to “tread” lightly but surely upon these hallowed halls of a person’s most intimate and treasured relationships.   We talk of their history, what made them laugh and what left them in tears… and the treasured threads of their life now seemingly torn from our lives. 

Orson Scott Card’s most famous book is Ender’s Game. A sci-fi fantasy novel used by military schools to talk about tactics and leadership.  The figure of Ender (the main character) is controversial and includes quite a bit of material with which to talk about the ethics of leadership… military engagements… even personal relationships.  All that leads us to the better of the books, the sequel to Ender’s Game: The Speaker for the Dead.  The penance Ender assigns himself from the events of the first book led him to the role of listening to the community of the dead and learning through those listening sessions who that person really was at the core of their being.  He then sums that up as he speaks to all the loved ones, friends, acquaintances – the whole of the community – on behalf of the recently deceased… he is the “Speaker for the Dead” with an aim towards truth and justice and maybe even love. He does it because he once killed that which he did not know or understand… and the guilt of that makes him commit to tell others’ stories when they too are misunderstood.

I give you that synopsis because I feel a kinship with Ender in that task of being something of a speaker for the dead.  It is why my most treasured moments in my work is sitting with family and friends and hearing the stories of their recently departed loved one.  Not simply the good stories – but hearing of that person in all their complications, all their faults, all their gifts… all their realness.  And capturing in those stories a testimony of who they were before God and their neighbors.  It is holy work.  It is work that I think also makes me understand the world in a kinder, more loving, and more just way.  Like Ender.

And so this Sunday, when we celebrate All Saints Day in worship we will read the names of all those in our community who died in the last year.  We will read and speak their name at the Communion Table… we will ring a bell for each name.   We will let the toll of that bell fall about our ears pregnant with the whole of who that person was… and while we will not have the time to tell their stories –their stories will ring in our ears and echo in our hearts through the tolling and we glimpse for a moment the sense to which the Sanctuary in which we toll and tell such stories is made holy by thousands of lives that have walk there, testimonies of time and energy to promote abundant life, guidance and love given to curate a space of belonging and repair, and that we carry on the legacy of all those saints with fear and trembling… to do for others what they have done for us.  We shall walk hallowed halls with hope and appreciation that we do not walk alone. 

It is holy, and it is so very good. 

“Woven IN love FOR love”

We have been hearing from Psalm 139 about being Fearfully and Wonderfully made… and that we are woven in love for love. We have not read the beginning of the Psalm which may be one of scripture’s greatest testimonies of the steadfast love and presence of God:

“You search out my path and my lying down, are acquainted with all my ways.
Even before a word is on my tongue, O Lord, you know it completely.
You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, it is so high that I cannot attain it.
Where can I go from your spirit? Or where can I flee from your presence?
If I ascend to heaven, you are there; if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there.
If I take the wings for the morning and settle at the farthest limits of the sea,
even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me fast.”

We have all experienced despair… and we have all watched someone we love go through it. Despair is a futile sense that there is nothing we can do, that there is no meaning, no hope, no tomorrow. And if tomorrow comes – the sun is not coming out with it… we might call such despair being “cut off from God” whose fabric is all the realities we can longer feel: love, hope, and worth. In despair one cannot find love… can now wrestle the way to hope… cannot be valued… because we are cut off from it and any reality they may is lost to us as we are lost to them.

“You search out my path…”

We do not come to worship to find God. We might say that sometimes… but God was never lost.
We are lost… and we are cut off from the reality of God and all that is good both around us and also within us. And the good news is not that God redeems us by making us good again… but that God’s redemption finds us to show us that we were always good, and of worth, and loved, and woven in grace and hope.

God the patient and persistent reality of love… waiting, inviting, and weaving itself around you – around us… hoping against despair that we will feel it and know it deep down into our bones. And when we cannot? God just keeps on keeping on: loving, inviting, sitting, caring, trying, hoping against despair and knowing that in whatever moment a trickle of all that breaks through enough that our eyes can see, or our hearts can feel: God will be there.

I hope this day that you know: you are loved.
I hope this day that you too can patiently hope against despair and love the world and all that is in it.