Sermon Audio – Cross of Grace

Cross of Grace Lutheran Church
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Weekly audio of sermons preached at Cross of Grace Lutheran Church in New Palestine, Indiana

  1. 4d ago

    Something Old, Something New

    Something Old, Something New Pastor Mark Havel Matthew 22:1-14 Once more Jesus spoke to them in parables, saying: “The kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who gave a wedding banquet for his son. He sent his slaves to call those who had been invited to the wedding banquet, but they would not come. Again he sent other slaves, saying, ‘Tell those who have been invited: Look, I have prepared my dinner, my oxen and my fat calves have been slaughtered, and everything is ready; come to the wedding banquet.’ But they made light of it and went away, one to his farm, another to his business, while the rest seized his slaves, mistreated them, and killed them. The king was enraged. He sent his troops, destroyed those murderers, and burned their city. Then he said to his slaves, ‘The wedding is ready, but those invited were not worthy. Go therefore into the main streets, and invite everyone you find to the wedding banquet.’ Those slaves went out into the streets and gathered all whom they found, both good and bad; so the wedding hall was filled with guests. “But when the king came in to see the guests, he noticed a man there who was not wearing a wedding robe, and he said to him, ‘Friend, how did you get in here without a wedding robe?’ And he was speechless. Then the king said to the attendants, ‘Bind him hand and foot, and throw him into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.’ For many are called, but few are chosen.” So, I spent a couple of days – a week or so ago – in Columbus, Ohio, at Trinity Lutheran Seminary, from whence I graduated 25 years ago, and I got to listen to some lectures from my favorite professor and theologian from those days, Mark Allan Powell. As expected, I learned a lot from him over the course of three lectures in two days’ time, and I look forward to sharing some of that with you very deliberately sometime down the road. But, in addition to the specifics of what he shared, I came away feeling encouraged and emboldened to get a little creative with my scriptural interpretation, preaching, and teaching. Which is to say, I found myself wrestling with this parable in a new way that may or may not pass muster with smarter people than me – which is something my professor Mark Allan Powell has done his entire career as a theologian. Let me be very clear, none of what I’m about to share is Mark Allan Powell material. I don’t want to get him in trouble. And I can’t imagine I’m the first person to interpret this passage the way I’m about to, but this is all me. Because I wondered differently about Jesus’ parable today than I ever have before: about how harsh it sounds … about the weeping and gnashing of teeth … about the outer darkness … about how unfair it is that that poor guy would be invited to the party, accept the invitation at the very last minute and, just because he didn’t have the right robe to wear, got punished so brutally. This is so hard for me – and maybe it is for you, too – because the context and characters of the parable have always been the following: The king is God and the wedding banquet is the Kingdom of Heaven. The first round of those invited to the party represent the good, faithful, Jews and Jewish leaders of Jesus’ day – those who rejected and questioned him, like the scribes, Pharisees, Sadducees and the like. They are the ones in the parable who ignore the invitation and go away – to their farm or to their business. And they’re the ones who mistreated and killed the ones who extended the invitation, in the first place. The second round of invitees – the B-list, if you will – who got invited to the party late to fill the seats, eat the food, and make the king happy – those were the followers of Jesus, the peasants, his disciples, his family and friends; and by extension, they represent US – you and me – the outsiders to the Jewish elite; those not part of the traditional, historically ‘chosen ones’ of the house of Israel. They are – WE ARE – the ones who should be grateful to have received the invitation, even if only by way of the B-list. They are – WE ARE – the ones who should respond to such an invitation and feast with great joy, deep gratitude, and faithful discipleship. And that sad sack who gets the boot – the guy who shows up without the proper attire – who didn’t get the memo about the dress code represents one of US, too – you or I – well-intended, but unprepared; called and invited, but not up to the challenge; not faithful enough; not invested enough; not good enough; and therefore, sadly, worthy of eternal punishment and hellfire; outer darkness, weeping, and gnashing of teeth. This is a rough take, right? We aren’t used to seeing this side of Jesus … and I don’t like it, to be honest … the one where he preaches about and promises “the outer darkness” and the “weeping and gnashing of teeth.” It’s black and white and harsh. It’s utterly lacking in grace, mercy, and the love we long for – and which is usually easier to find in his preaching and teaching, to be honest. But, again, that’s the more popular interpretation and understanding of this parable, as far as I know. And it’s very likely accurate and true to Jesus’ intentions in many ways. After all, it’s not the first or only time Jesus lays out some high expectations for his followers. Remember, or look up, the very popular Matthew 25 where we hear that parable about the sheep and the goats – just three chapters after this one – where some believers are “sheep,” blessed and chosen to sit at the right hand of God, while some are deemed “goats,” damned and doomed to the same eternal fire reserved for the devil and his angels. Again, I don’t love that. And I don’t want to steal ALL of Jesus’ thunder, here. I think we’re meant to hear Jesus get serious from time to time; and feel convicted; and think hard about our invitation to follow his ways. But these are parables, too, remember. Nothing more, nothing less. And it’s okay to recognize that Jesus gets serious and hyperbolic when he wants our attention. So he goes hard with the outer darkness, the weeping, and the gnashing of teeth, from time to time – and often in Matthew’s Gospel. But I wonder if there’s another way – an additional take on this parable of the wedding banquet, the late comers, and the sad sack who gets the boot. What if most of it is as expected and as I’ve already explained? The king is God. The wedding banquet is the Kingdom of Heaven The first round of those invited to the party still represent the good, faithful, Jews and Jewish leaders of Jesus’ day – those who rejected and questioned him, like the scribes, Pharisees, Sadducees and the like, who wanted nothing to do with the party of grace he promised. And what if the second round of invitees is still you and me – the B-listers who aren’t part of the Jewish inner circle of God’s chosen ones, but who are graciously welcomed in, fed, nourished, and showered with grace, nonetheless. BUT, what if the sad sack who gets the boot … the one who shows up without the right clothes on … ISN’T one of us? What if that’s Jesus, the Son, himself, who the king questions, for all the guests in that packed wedding hall to see and to hear: “Friend, how did you get in here without a wedding robe?” “Are you telling me none of these people – not one of my other guests – cared enough to see that you were clothed, and welcomed, and had what you needed to enjoy the feast with the rest of them?” And what if, just like Jesus, before Pilate at his crucifixion, this guy was speechless; uncomplaining; silent, like a sheep before its shearers – as the prophet predicted. And what if we’re supposed to see him, as Jesus, bound, and cast into the outer darkness of his crucifixion with all of its weeping, gnashing of teeth, whips, thorns, nails, and more? And what if we’re supposed to look at ourselves and at each other, with cups overflowing, with full plates, full bellies, heads and hearts full of forgiveness and abundance none of us has earned, and wonder how we let that happen? What if the message of this wedding banquet parable is much like that one about the sheep and the goats in Matthew 25: whenever you did it to one of the least of these – fed the hungry, healed the sick, visited the prisoner, clothed the naked – you did it to me? And whenever you DID NOT do it to one of the least of these, you didn’t do it for me, either. And what if, to be called is one thing … to get the invitation, to show up to the party, to celebrate the grace and mercy and love that God offers us all – A listers and B listers, alike? And what if to be chosen is something altogether more? What if that means to look around at who’s nearby; to be sure our neighbor and fellow wedding guests have clothes and food and healthcare and equal rights and fair pay and a safe place to sleep and aren’t deported on sight or executed on a livestream or bombed into oblivion? And what if we are called to be convicted by the King’s question – “How did this happen?” – as we watch our Savior get the boot, take the heat, and die on the cross – for our sake – until we get it right? Amen

  2. Oct 4

    Power to Name

    Power to Name Pastor Cogan Genesis 2:15-20a The Lord God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to till it and keep it. And the Lord God commanded the man, “You may freely eat of every tree of the garden, but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall die.” Then the Lord God said, “It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper as his partner.” So out of the ground the Lord God formed every animal of the field and every bird of the air and brought them to the man to see what he would call them, and whatever the man called every living creature, that was its name. The man gave names to all cattle and to the birds of the air and to every animal of the field. When I was a kid, maybe six or seven, my aunt and uncle got a golden retriever puppy. We did not have a dog at the time, so I was so excited to go over and play with it. When we got there, my dad asked, “what’s his name?”. Not yet having one, we made suggestions throughout the night, but nothing stuck. On the way out of the door, my dad turned toward the puppy and said “see you later champ!” and walked to the car. And don’t you know they named that dog champ! We were shocked. My dad had inadvertently named their dog. It wasn’t until many years later, when Champ crossed over the rainbow bridge, that I reminisced with my dad about Champ and how he accidentally named him. To my utter shock, my dad said, “that was no accident… I called him champ before we left because I knew they would name him that. I’ve done it twice in my life and both times it worked like a charm!” It wasn’t inadvertent at all. My dad, cunningly, slyly, named not one but two dogs that didn’t belong to him! I wasn’t sure if I was impressed or horrified. After all, naming involves both power and intimacy. As one theologian put it, “naming reflects values and character. Naming reflects hope for who you want a child or an animal to be.” At its best, to name is to honor, to show respect, and to be in relationship with that being, human or animal. At its worst, naming inflicts a lot of harm and damage. In Genesis, I think we see the former. In the first creation story, we get the famous line about humans having dominion over all the animals. Over the centuries, we have taken dominion to mean do as we wish, hurting that which God created and called good. But in the second creation story, we get an entirely different picture of the human-animal relationship. Instead of speaking animals and humans into existence, God uses God’s hands to create life, pulling dirt together, giving it CPR, and up from the humus comes the human. God saw that the human shouldn’t be alone. So God did an experiment, and formed every creature, every animal, every bird, out of the ground, just like we were. So it shouldn’t shock us when we continue discovering all the ways we are similar to our animal friends. And after comes what must be one of the most joyous, yet bizarre scenes in all the Bible. God brought each one of the animals to Adam so that he could name it! Picture it, with a parade of animals lined up, God handed Adam a large feathered bird and said, what will name it. Adam looks at it and declares, Chicken! God, filled with delight, hands Adam another creature, “And what about this funny looking mammal”, “Aardvark!” How joyous. And whatever Adam named the creature, that was its name! One of the very first things God gives humans the power to do is name. The question then is how does God intend for us to use that power. Is it to dominate, divide, and do what we please? Or is it to be in relationship with, to care for, to respect, to know the other creatures who walk the earth. In the garden of Eden, I see Adam’s naming as an act of love and joy that builds relationships. However, we aren’t in the garden anymore. And nowadays we face a near irresistible urge to name each other in other ways, ways that divide and denigrate: conservative, progressive, traditional, modern, evangelical, liberal, young, old, Buckeye… We give huge groups of people one name just so we can fix them into the same box and judge them all the same way. It is our task now to reclaim the power of naming, not to divide but, as Adam did and build relationships. This is not easy! If you have ever been in a relationship of any kind, name calling comes pretty naturally and quick! So when you are struggling with that temptation to use other names, like we are so quick to do in our current culture, Think of the names God not only gives you, but also gives to everyone else: child, beloved, forgiven, friend. Even the people you can’t stand, God calls you both by the same names. And those aren’t just titles, but promises of how God sees us and how we can see each other, too. When you come forward with your animal friend for a blessing, you will tell us their name. By your naming them, caring for them, respecting them, being in relationship with them, you are fulfilling the same call and command that God first gave to Adam back in the garden. So tell us their name in all it’s glory: rover, fluffy, stevie, sadie, tank, rex, sparkles, or even Champ. We will bless them and the relationship you share. But even more so, be blessed by the relationship God has with you. For not only does God call you by name, but all throughout Scripture God names us, names you: light of the world, salt of the earth, royalty, friend, child, co-heir with Christ, and most importantly, beloved. Amen.

  3. Sep 27

    Almost Who I Am

    Almost Who I Am Pastor Cogan Download Matthew 21:23-32 When he entered the temple, the chief priests and the elders of the people came to him as he was teaching and said, “By what authority are you doing these things, and who gave you this authority?” Jesus said to them, “I will also ask you one question; if you tell me the answer, then I will also tell you by what authority I do these things. Did the baptism of John come from heaven, or was it of human origin?” And they argued with one another, “If we say, ‘From heaven,’ he will say to us, ‘Why, then, did you not believe him?’ But if we say, ‘Of human origin,’ we are afraid of the crowd, for all regard John as a prophet.” So they answered Jesus, “We do not know.” And he said to them, “Neither will I tell you by what authority I am doing these things. “What do you think? A man had two sons; he went to the first and said, ‘Son, go and work in the vineyard today.’ He answered, ‘I will not,’ but later he changed his mind and went. The father went to the second and said the same, and he answered, ‘I go, sir,’ but he did not go. Which of the two did the will of his father?” They said, “The first.” Jesus said to them, “Truly I tell you, the tax collectors and the prostitutes are going into the kingdom of God ahead of you. For John came to you in the way of righteousness, and you did not believe him, but the tax collectors and the prostitutes believed him, and even after you saw it you did not change your minds and believe him. Back in February, one of my favorite artists, David Whimbish, released a song called Almost Who I Am. It’s been on repeat in my car since. The chorus goes, “Well if you used to know me, I am sorry. I have not been myself for most of my life. Don’t worry. You're not crazy. I’m almost who I am but still not quite.” (warning - if you have children there are a few choice words so perhaps the car ride home is not the best time to listen to it.) Sometimes there are lyrics that ring like gospel truth from the moment you hear them. Such was this song for me. If you used to know, I am sorry. I have not been myself for most of my life. If you knew a 10 year old Cogan, you would have known a talkative, husky (at least according to my pant size), boy who loved football and thought he’d never move away from home. At 16, you would have known a teen who longed to be popular and well liked, who held strong beliefs about folks who are queer, and believed racism was a thing of the past. At 22, all sorts of those beliefs had changed, for the better I believe. I got married, said I’d never have a dog, and, not yet having any kids of my own, was an expert on parenting. At 32, I stand before quite different than all of my previous selves, shaped by a past of bad decisions, wrong beliefs, and the harm I’ve done and had done to me. If you used to know me, I am sorry. I have not been myself for most of my life. And I have to believe I am not the only one who feels like that in this life; like you have never been quite the person you’d hoped you would be. Perhaps that is what Jesus is getting at in this deceptively simple parable about two brothers. A father tells his first son, go and work in the vineyard. The first son replied "No, I am not doing that” and later changed his mind. The father, not knowing that his first son would change his mind, goes to his second son and asks the same thing. The second son said, “yes, I’ll go.” But he didn’t. It is easy to hear this story as a simple choice between two options. You are either the second sons, which represents the religious leaders. They believed they were doing God’s will in what they taught and how they lived. But then John the baptist and Jesus came and proclaimed something new, and they rejected it and them, and chose not to follow where God was leading. In other words,they knew how to say yes to God, but they never went into the vineyard. Others though, namely tax collectors and prostitutes, the worst sinners of the day, grabbed ahold of it with all they had. The invitation for us then seems simple: be like the first son. Repent! Don’t just talk about faith; go work in the vineyard. But I don’t believe this parable comes down to, “Which son will you be?” The hard truth is that we are both. We are the second son whenever our confession doesn’t live up to our discipleship. We say yes to God all the time. We confess our sins, say we’ll repent, and promise to love our neighbors. We talk about welcome and service, justice and forgiveness. We call ourselves Partners in Mission at Cross of Grace. That is a whole lot of yes to God. And inevitably, we don’t always go into the vineyard. So let’s not be too quick to judge the chief priests and elders. They aren’t obvious villains. They are religious people who know how to say yes to God. Sound familiar? But thank God we are also the first son. We’ve said no in a thousand ways. We’ve been selfish. We’ve hurt others and ourselves. We’ve failed to become the parents, spouses, friends, Christian, and church we imagined ourselves becoming. There are things you believed, that we believed, twenty years ago that make us cringe now. Things we’ve said that we wish we would have swallowed. Things we’ve done that cannot be undone. “If you used to know me, I am sorry. I have not been myself for most of my life.” There is confession there. Grace does not take all that away. It happened. It was you. And yet, “afterward he changed his mind and went.” Just like the first son, our no was true, but it wasn’t final. Our past happened, but it doesn’t dictate our future. “Don’t worry. You’re not crazy. I’m almost who I am.” In other words, I am still becoming. The grace in the parable is that the first son’s “no” didn’t preclude him from working in the vineyard. The future was still open. And perhaps the same is true for the second son. Jesus says the tax collectors and prostitutes are entering the kingdom “ahead of you”; not instead of you. Their failure need not be final either. Grace is the promise that neither our first answers nor our failures are the final word. Rather God is always at work in us. Maybe you are sitting here as someone who has more life behind you than in front of you. You’re thinking, “Pastor I am 86. My future is not open and it is too late to repair all my no’s.” Sounding an awful lot like David Whimbish, Luther says, “This life therefore is not righteousness, but growth in righteousness; not health, but healing; not being, but becoming; We are not yet what we shall be, but we are growing toward it. The process is not yet finished, but it is going on. This is not the end, but it is the road.” Our becoming isn’t finished before death. The Christian promise isn’t merely that you still have time to become a somewhat better version of yourself before you die. Rather, it is after this life, God will finish what grace has begun and we will be made new, complete; the person God intended for you to be. But in this life, you are almost who you are, but still not quite. And to me that is good news. Because like David Whimbish sings, I’m afraid that I am the mistake that I’ve made. I want to change, or really be changed. I want to be a different person than who I have been, than who I am today. Maybe that's true for you, too. Jesus tells me, tells us, that by the grace of God, our future is open. The problem is not that we have messed up in the past. The problem is believing your past must determine your future. This parable and its teaching isn’t about being the religious leaders or the sinners, the second son or the first. It’s announcing the terrifying and wonderful reality that God is still at work in us. We are not yet who we will be. Sometimes we can see it happening. A no becomes a yes. We meet people who change us. The tight grip on a conviction we held so tight begins to loosen. We apologize. We forgive. We finally walk into the vineyard. And sometimes the work remains painfully unfinished. There are noes we will never have time to repair and wounds we cannot heal. But even then, God is not finished. Death does not close the future God has opened. In the resurrection we will finally become who God has been making us to be all along. In this life, though, I’m almost who I am, but never quite. Amen.

  4. Sep 20

    A History of Grace

    A History of Grace Pastor Mark Havel Matthew 20:1-16 [Jesus said,] “The kingdom of heaven is like a laborer who went out early in the morning to hire laborers for his vineyard. After agreeing with them for the usual daily wage, he sent them out into the vineyard. When he went out about nine o’clock, he found others standing idle in the marketplace and he said to them, ‘You also go into my vineyard and I will pay you what is right.’ So they went. When he went out about noon and again about 3 o’clock, he did the same. When he went out at 5 o’clock, he found others still standing around. He said to them, ‘Why are you standing here idle all day?’ They said to him, ‘Because no one has hired us.’ He said to them, ‘You also, go out and work in the vineyard.’ When evening came, the landowner said to his manager, ‘Call in the workers and give them their pay, beginning with the last and going to the first.’ When those who were hired at 5 o’clock came in, they received the usual daily wage. When those who were hired first came, they thought they would receive more, but instead they also received the usual daily wage. And when they received it, they grumbled against the landowner saying, ‘These last have worked only one hour and yet you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the day and the scorching heat.’ The landowner said to one of them, ‘Friend, I am doing you no wrong. Did you not agree with me for the usual daily wage? Take what belongs to you and go. I choose to give to the last the same as I give to you. Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me? Or are you envious because I am generous?’ So, the last will be first and the first will be last.” I’ve had the occasion to talk about Cross of Grace’s history a few different times in the last several weeks – particularly where our earliest days as a new, “mission” congregation are concerned. And it’s all been related to our latest expansion project and because of the 25th anniversary we’ve been celebrating over the course of this past year or so. I’ve talked about the building with our architects and contractors, of course. I’ve had a recent conversation with someone from our synod, who’s new to the ministry, about mission development and what it takes to start a new congregation. And I shared some of all of that with folks in our most recent CrossRoads class – as I always do – for people who want to learn more about where we come from, and about how and why we do what we do, as a family of faith. So it all came to mind again when I started to consider this familiar parable about “the workers in the vineyard.” The story goes, as many of you know, that I was called as a Pastor and Mission Developer, technically, to serve as an associate at Servants of Christ Lutheran Church, up in the Oaklandon/Geist neck of the woods, in Indianapolis, but that all of my work and ministry took place here in New Palestine. I like to tell about how a handful of faithful, committed, brave Lutheran-flavored Christians were assembled from a few area Lutheran congregations, like Servants of Christ, and St. James, in Greenfield, Gethsemane on the east side, and Bethany on the south side, all to serve as seeds for this fledgling idea of a new congregation. And I like to tell about how Servants of Christ paid my salary and many of our General Fund expenses for the first three years of our life together. And about how Servants of Christ purchased the land we’re sitting on and then signed over the title to all 10.3 acres of it, free and clear, as a gift. And I like to explain that all of that spiritual capital and financial support were a big part of why we were able to build our first building … and add to it as soon and as often as we have … and continue to grow in ways far more important that square footage, in just these past 25 years. See, for people who know anything about new church start-ups and mission developments in our denomination, what we’ve been able to do in a relatively short period of time at Cross of Grace – namely to build and grow and build and grow and give generously and thrive along the way – usually takes the average mission congregation much, much longer in this day and age. Typically a pastor/developer shows up in a mission field like New Palestine and spends 6 months to a year just gathering people who might want to be part of a new congregation. Typically, they don’t start worshipping for another 9 months or so, until they’ve been together for meetings and for Bible studies and for other ways of getting to know each other, first. Typically, they have to spend all sorts of time and energy – and spiritual and financial resources – raising money and saving money; finding land and paying for it; or buying land back from the larger Church who owned it in the first place. Typically, all of that needs to be done – and can take years – long before they can even think about designing and building a first facility for worship, learning, and service. And typically, the first building a mission congregation builds doesn’t look anything like what we were able to build – which was basically the space we’re sitting in that has sustained us and made room for us, these past 25 years – at least as far as worship is concerned. First facilities – per the expectations and demands of the larger church – are usually a lot smaller and can’t foster the kind of ministry – or welcome – that we’ve been blessed to share, thanks to the head-start and help we received from our friends at Servants of Christ. And typically, because of all of that work and waiting, pastors and mission developers for new congregations don’t last as pastors of their congregations for more than 18 months after they move into their first building, or complete a major building project – let alone three. Honestly – and sadly – it’s just too much of a tiring, conflicted, stressful journey to bear. Well, this morning’s parable had me thinking about all of this, because when I tell the story of Cross of Grace to others in the Church – especially when I tell it to other Pastors and Mission Developers who know something about all I just described – I get a little self-conscious and I used to even feel a bit guilty about the way we’ve come to be. Having come here straight out of seminary – green as green can be – I wondered if they looked at me like I was like one of those workers who showed up at 5 o’clock, worked for a shorter part of the day, and reaped the same reward my friends and colleagues had been dreaming about and working for since very early in the proverbial morning. But to feel guilty or self-conscious about any of this is to deny the very profound experience of grace that has blessed my life – and ours together – from the very beginning. See, the plan for starting new congregations where the larger Church is concerned is what it is and I understand why it has to be that way in many instances. The larger church wants congregations to establish themselves as viable. They want to see trends of financial income and commitments. The larger church needs to be paid back for the land and the resources they provide, so that they can provide those resources for others down the line. The larger church needs to see new, growing communities of Christian workers out there in the vineyard punching a clock and earning their keep and proving themselves. Even the Church, in instances like this, can’t act like God can act – as graciously as Jesus tells us God acts – in this morning’s parable. And at the risk of tooting our own proverbial horn, I think it’s fair to say that we have been as faithful and as successful – if not more faithful and more successful in our ministry together – because we keep telling this story and working to honor the gracious abundance that has been shared with us over the years. And, while the larger Church has all those good reasons and real needs for starting congregations the way they do, I can’t help but wonder if all those rules and regulations; all those hoops and hurtles; all those tiresome timelines and tedious ways do everything but foster generosity, gratitude and grace – which I happen to think are our greatest assets at Cross of Grace, and the reason we continue to do God’s work well and faithfully around here. And I hope and pray our experience as a congregation impacts and translates into the way we live as individuals – and out there in the world – too. Because if each of us takes a minute, I suspect we can all think of someone or some ways that we have been blessed with a gracious advantage in our lives. I suspect most of us can point to someone who helped us when we didn’t deserve it; gave us a leg-up, encouraged us, supported us, pushed us; loved us, just because. And, of course, by virtue of the circumstances of our birth – most of us as working or middle class white people in this country we call home – are graced with privilege so many others in the world can’t comprehend. It’s why I have to think those laborers in the vineyard – the ones who showed up at 5 o’clock in the afternoon and received the full day’s wage – were so surprised and grateful that they came back to work for that landowner again. I’d like to think they showed up early the next morning, instead of hanging around in the marketplace all day. I’d like to think they worked hard for their boss, and that they probably brought along some friends to help, too; to experience this abundance I’m sure they could hardly believe themselves. And I’d like to thin

  5. Sep 13

    Dolly, Joseph, and Jesus

    Dolly, Joseph, and Jesus Pastor Mark Havel Matthew 18:21-35 Then Peter came to Jesus and said to him, “Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often must I forgive – as many as seven times?” Jesus said to him, “Not seven times, but I tell you seventy-seven times.” “For this reason the kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who wished to settle accounts with his slaves. When he began the reckoning, one who owed him ten thousand talents was brought before him. When he couldn’t pay, the king ordered him to be sold, together with his wife and children and all of his possessions, and payment to be made. But the slave fell down before him and pleaded, ‘Have patience with me and I’ll pay you everything.’ Out of pity for him, the king released him and forgave him his entire debt. “But that same slave, when he went out, came across a fellow slave who owed him one hundred denarii. Seizing him by the throat, he said, ‘Pay what you owe!’ When he could not pay, he knelt down before him and said, ‘Have patience with me and I will pay you.’ But the first slave refused and he went and had him thrown into prison until he could pay the debt. When his fellow slaves saw what had happened, they were greatly distressed and they went and told the king everything that had taken place. “The king summoned the first slave and said to him, ‘You wicked slave!’ I forgave you all of that debt because you pleaded with me. Should you not have had mercy on your fellow slave the way I had mercy on you?’ Then, in anger, he handed him over to be tortured until he could pay his entire debt. So, my heavenly father will also do to every one of you unless you forgive your brother and your sister from your heart.” It’s been a few weeks since we lost Saint Dolly. I knew there would be an occasion where her death – and her life – and her Christian witness – would make its way into something around here. She was such an example of what faithful, generous, Christ-likeness looks like in the world, after all. But I’m not going to talk about her generosity – the million dollars she donated to jumpstart the development of the COVID vaccine during the pandemic; the gazillion books her “Imagination Library” has shared with kids around the world; the millions of dollars she gave to hurricane, flood, and wildfire victims in her home state and beyond. That is all very impressive, for sure. But for someone with Dolly Parton kind of money none of that is as impressive as what caught my attention about her capacity to forgive, just as generously. If you know anything about her story – or if you happened upon any of the many tributes and reflections about the trajectory of her career, in the last few weeks, since her death – you likely know something about her early days with Porter Wagoner. Porter Wagoner – that goofy looking dude of a country singer-songwriter. He was 20 years older than Dolly and had his own TV show. He gets credit for discovering Dolly Parton and for giving her her big television debut as a regular on “The Porter Wagoner Show.” She was just 21 years old, at the time, and not so far removed from the hills and hollers of Sevierville, TN. Dolly lived in Porter’s shadow – and under his thumb – for seven years on his show. As her boss and producer and mentor he apparently controlled and dismissed her creativity so that, in 1974, Dolly told him she wanted to leave the show, break out on her own, and have more creative freedom to do her own thing. When Wagoner resisted the idea, Dolly went home, wrote the masterpiece that is “I Will Always Love You,” sang it to him the next day, and let him know she would be leaving, whether he wanted her to go, or not. Wagoner knew what he’d lost, of course, and held a grudge that had him speaking ill of Dolly thereafter until, when his own career fell apart and his finances took a dump, he sued Dolly – five years after the fact – for $3,000,000, in 1979, for breach of contract. (That’s about $14,000,000 in today’s money.) Dolly kept a lot of that quiet and on the down-low and they ultimately settled out of court. Several more years later – in spite of all of that – when Dolly Parton learned that Porter Wagoner was in such dire financial straits that he had to sell the publishing rights to his own music, she secretly, quietly, on the down-low again, bought his entire catalogue of music and gave the rights to it all back to him as a gift. In other words, Dolly pulled a Joseph. If you don’t know or remember the details of that story, which we just heard a little piece of this morning, Joseph was one of 12 brothers. When their dad, Jacob, made it clear that Joseph was his favorite, showering him with praise and special treatment and dressing him like Dolly Parton in that coat of many colors, the other brothers didn’t like it. They conspired to kill Joseph, but ended up selling him to some human traffickers, instead, and then faked his death, letting their dad believe their little brother was killed by some kind of wild animal. Like Dolly, though, Joseph made it big. He landed in the house and in the favor of Pharaoh – interpreting dreams like Dolly wrote songs – until he became one of the most influential men in all of Egypt. So that, years later, when famine and dire financial straits fell upon his family back home and his lying, traitorous brothers showed up looking for rescue and relief from Pharoah’s reserves in Egypt, Joseph had a choice to make: hold a grudge and send them packing? Or give them what they wanted and needed, whether they deserved it or not? Like Dolly, Joseph chose the latter and, in some quiet, sly, down-low ways of his own, Joseph helped his brothers – welcoming them with open arms and setting them up with some new land on which their family – his family – could survive, live, and thrive as a people. I can’t be sure, because I’ve never had Dolly Parton dollars or access to the unlimited funds of the Pharaoh, but I have a hunch that the harder, more generous, sacrificial, faithful part of the reconciliation offered up by these two well-dressed, well-heeled, giants of faith we have in Dolly and Joseph, comes NOT in the grand total of the financial help they offered … but in the selfless, sacrificial, humble, ego-free, no-strings-attached, utter grace of their forgiveness. They did it, not because they had to … or because they didn’t have plenty of reason to do the opposite … (in this era of Taylor Swift style – paybacks are Hell sort of break-up songs – it’s worth noting that even Dolly’s “break up” song to Porter Wagoner was full of humility, gratitude, and love). And Dolly did it – forgave him and helped him and reconciled with him – she apparently said, because she didn’t want to live her life bearing the burden of that broken relationship. Joseph did it – forgave and helped and reconciled with his brothers – because he could see the bigger picture of what God was up to in his life and for the sake of the world. Only God could have turned Joseph’s great loss and suffering into good for his family … and only if Joseph had played along by forgiving them like he did. All of which is the way of Jesus, just the same. And it’s what he’s talking about this morning with this parable – remember, this is a parable – nothing more and nothing less – about the “unforgiving servant.” Jesus tells that story about this poor guy who couldn’t share, with his friend, the same kind of forgiveness he’d received – and then ends up being tortured because of it. Now, I don’t think we need to see that as some kind of cosmic threat or warning about the likelihood of our own suffering when we die for all the ways we didn’t forgive on this side of heaven. The “kingdom of heaven” Jesus is describing here has already broken into our midst in Jesus, remember. The kingdom of heaven about which Jesus teaches is alive and well and among us, just as much as it is up there and out there and beyond the grave. So, when Jesus says, “the kingdom of heaven is like…” what if Jesus is teaching us about and calling us to something Dolly and Joseph knew and practiced: that living – on this side of heaven – in a state of unforgiveness … carrying – in this life – the weight of a grudge … shouldering – daily – the burden of resentment for someone else’s sins against you, is its own kind of torture; it’s own kind of hell; it’s own kind of suffering – on this side of heaven; in this life; right where we live; right here and now? And what if Jesus’ point – what if his promise – is that God doesn’t want that for any of us. In other words, forgiveness isn’t an entirely benevolent act – and that’s okay. Yes, to forgive another is a wonderful gift to give someone else, but it’s something we do for ourselves, too. It may mean mending a relationship or it may mean moving on from one with grace. It may mean accepting someone’s apology and it may mean accepting that someone will never apologize and mean it. It may mean healing a hurt from the past or it may mean letting the past be the past and moving on. It may mean setting the record straight or it may mean setting

  6. Aug 30

    Why? Why? Why?

    Why? Why? Why? Pastor Cogan Matthew 16:21-28 From that time on, Jesus began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and undergo great suffering at the hands of the elders and chief priests and scribes and be killed and on the third day be raised. And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him, saying, “God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you.” But he turned and said to Peter, “Get behind me, Satan! You are a hindrance to me, for you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.” Then Jesus told his disciples, “If any wish to come after me, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it. For what will it profit them if they gain the whole world but forfeit their life? Or what will they give in return for their life? “For the Son of Man is to come with his angels in the glory of his Father, and then he will repay everyone for what has been done. Truly I tell you, there are some standing here who will not taste death before they see the Son of Man coming in his kingdom.” I know I have said it, but I can’t say it enough. From all of my family, thank you for the generous gift of time you gave to us for my paternity leave. It was wonderful. I thought it might be helpful to share a little bit about what our days were like. Yes, there were (and are) the diaper blow outs, the endless piles of laundry, the constant “Clive stop touching her”, and coffee, lots of coffee. But especially in those first few weeks, there would come a point nearly each day when Clive had had enough of being inside. It might have been the running laps around the kitchen or chucking toys down the stairs, but something would tell us he needed to go outside. And since I am not a source of milk, He and I would go for walks, or adventures, as we call them. There is this little path in our neighborhood that leads to a small pond behind some houses. It’s got tall grasses and wildflowers all around, with tall trees hovering above. I would tell him we were searching for turtles, knowing full well we wouldn’t see one. That wasn’t the point. We would walk, look around, but mostly Clive would ask questions. Dad, why is that flower yellow? Why is there water here? Why are the clouds gray and not white? Why is uncle Chad taller than you? Admittedly, I was more than a little tired on some of our walks and did not entertain this game well. On my better days though, I would do my best to answer. But when you get five or six why’s deep on any one question, you’ve got to be a wildlife biologist, an astrophysicist, or a mechanic to give the right answer. For example: why does it rain? So that things grow. Why? Because most things need water and sunlight to grow. Why? At this point I remember something called photosynthesis, but that’s about all and we are only three whys in. And lest you think I am exaggerating on the number of why’s Clive asks, one study from the University of Michigan found that on average, a 3 to 5 year old asks 107 questions a day! A day! Most of them being “why?”. I researched a little bit more on why Clive asked why so much and there are a few reasons. First, at age three kids have an explosion of neuron connections happening in their brain, more than three times that of an adult. Second, it helped me to know that kids ask lots of questions with someone they trust. They are thinking, “this person is helping me figure out the world”. And finally, kids aren’t seeking attention with the repeated why. Instead, they are just unsatisfied with the answers, which means Clive is unsatisfied with me most of the time. Sadly, this barrage of questioning doesn't last forever. Tight at the time kids start school, ironically the questions start slowing down. By halfway through elementary school, they nearly stop altogether, perhaps because in both our schools and our society we’ve come to value correct answers much more than good questions. In reading the gospel this week, I can’t help but wonder how this conversation between Jesus and Peter would have gone had Peter responded with a question. I wonder even more how Jesus would have answered… Instead, Peter thinks he has the right answer again. Just last week, Jesus praised him for his answer to the question who Jesus was. “You are the Messiah, the Son of the Living God”, Peter said. And he was rewarded with a title, the Rock, and keys to the kingdom. Yet, today we see Peter had the right answer, but the wrong understanding of what that meant. For him and most of the Jewish community, the Messiah would be like David and Moses wrapped into one, but even greater. A military leader who would overthrow Rome and lead the Jewish people out of oppression and into a new kingdom. So when Jesus says that he must suffer and be killed by the people Peter thought he came to defeat, Peter can’t help but think he is right and Jesus is wrong. Can you imagine how the conversation would have gone had Peter simply responded why? Why must you suffer and be killed? Why must you be raised on the third day? Throughout the gospels, Jesus never scolds the disciples or others for asking questions. Think of Nicodemus and all his questions or the disciples wanting an explanation as to why Jesus taught in parables. Questions don’t frustrate Jesus. Insistence that someone has the right answer, or the right theology, does… Especially when that right answer or theology harms someone else.So if Jesus welcomes our questions, why are we so hesitant to pose them? Maybe because we are afraid of what our questions will lead to or we’ve been told we shouldn’t. Like our schools and society, our churches and denominations place a premium on having the right answers or believing the right thing. And it has harmed people, especially women and our gay and queer siblings. My hope is that this community is a place where we create space for and encourage good questions. As we start this new program year, there will be many opportunities to learn together. My prayer is that not only will you commit to coming to one of them: Wired Word, Giving the Sense, Graceful Parenting, or others, but that while you are in them you are not afraid to ask questions of your neighbor, your pastors, your faith, and the holy words of the Word. When we do that, we’ll make new connections and gain deeper understanding about each other and our God. We will grow in trust, helping one another figure out our faith and the world around us. We will also be, and likely have already been, unsatisfied with some answers you get: from us, from popular theology, or from your past church experience. And that’s okay! One of the best pieces of advice I read about Clive’s constant questioning is that he's likely unsatisfied with my answers because they are causal, not functional. In other words, I am explaining what causes something and not its function. He asks why the flower is yellow and I say because of the pigment in its petals. That is useless to Clive. But if I say, so that bees and butterflies can find it, now we’ve got something. Preschoolers want an answer that is functional, that explains what something does, not just what it means. And that’s beautiful, it’s also very Lutheran. If you have asked “Why did Jesus have to die?” and someone responded with “because that was God’s plan” or “because of sin”, that’s a causal answer likely leading to many more whys. I am much more interested in a functional answer of why Jesus died and was raised. That answer is perhaps more simple, but no less profound. Jesus died and was raised for you, and for me and for the whole world, so that we might receive grace and forgiveness here and now, and that all creation will one day be raised to new life, just as Jesus was. That’s why. Until then, ask all the questions you can about this faith we share, about this God we worship, and about this grace we’ve received. It will help us learn together, trust each other more, and above all, get a deeper understanding of this Jesus we follow. We might not be satisfied with all the answers we get, but I bet one day we will be. Amen

  7. Aug 23

    Spiritual Gifts and The Body of Christ

    Spiritual Gifts and The Body of Christ Dr. Joelle Hathaway Our own Dr. Joelle Hathaway, Assistant Professor of Theological Studies at Bethany Theological Seminary, joined us as our last guest preacher for the summer. It’s been good to hear new voices and to share different perspectives, like hers, while Pastor Cogan was away for his family leave the last few months.

  8. Aug 16

    A Jerk Like Jesus

    A Jerk Like Jesus Pastor Mark Havel Matthew 15:21-28 Jesus left that place and went to the district of Tyre and Sidon. Just then, a Canaanite woman from that region came to him and cried out, “Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David! My daughter is tormented by a demon.” Jesus didn’t answer her at all. His disciples said to him, “Send her away from here. She keeps shouting after us.” Jesus replied, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” But the woman came, and kneeling before him, said, “Lord, help me.” And Jesus replied, “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” The woman replied, “Yes, Lord. But even dogs get the crumbs that fall from their master’s table.” Jesus said, “Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish.” And her daughter was healed, instantly. I make it a point not to compare myself to Jesus – for so many reasons. But I found myself doing just that this week when I sat down to wrestle with this difficult Gospel reading. This one hit differently, for a change, and not in a good way. What I mean is, like we just heard from Jesus, I was sort of a jerk to a couple of people who needed my help this week. I wasn’t as mean as Jesus, honestly – I didn’t call anyone a “dog” – but I was kind of a jerk, nonetheless. But first, I’d rather talk about talk about Jesus. He and the disciples are spreading the Word, their working miracles, their feeding, healing, and teaching. I’m sure they’re still talking about how Peter walked on water, which we heard about last week. And then along comes this woman – a Canaanite woman; a Gentile woman in the land of Gentiles; and she wants to talk to Jesus. She wants his mercy and his blessing and his healing for her sick daughter and she has the nerve to ask him for it. I say “nerve” because she was a Gentile, a Canaanite. She was not a Jew, like Jesus and his disciples. She was NOT one of the “lost sheep of the house of Israel,” as Jesus puts it. And because of that, she wasn’t on his agenda or in his plans or on his list of priorities. Even though they were in her neck of the woods – the region of Tyre and Sidon – neither Jesus nor his disciples wanted anything to do with her. “Send her away,” the disciples say, “she keeps shouting after us.” “Lose her before she makes a scene.” And Jesus tries to brush her off, himself: “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” “I really am only here for the Jews. Not for Gentiles. Not for Canaanites. Not for the likes of her.” But she doesn’t give up. She keeps after him. She persists, like any good mother would, who really wanted help for her sick child. And, even after hearing all of this, she kneels before Jesus, utterly humbling herself, and she begs him … simply … “Lord, help me.” And it gets worse before it gets better. If there’s any doubt that Jesus didn’t want anything to do with this lady, listen when he says, “It’s not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” That is as bad as it sounds. He compares her to a dog – unworthy of receiving the same blessings he came to share with his fellow Jews; with “the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” *** Now, a little sidebar here. I have preached and taught about this text several times over the years and usually take the same tack … to make it about race, for instance; or ministry to the “other,” for example; or about doing away with the social and cultural divisions that separate people from each other – like how Jesus and his disciples saw themselves as separate from – maybe better than – that Canaanite woman. I like to talk about how even Jesus was influenced by his culture and community and about how even he had to learn and be persuaded to see God’s grace as deeper and wider and more all-encompassing than he was first inclined. And I think that is quite a compelling lesson to be learned here. But I’ve been there and done that – as far as sermons go – so this time around it hit differently, as I said. *** Whatever it was that made Jesus rebuff, dismiss, and ignore the needs of this woman, this is hard to hear because either he meant it, which can’t be good. Or because he was messing with her to test the fortitude of her faithfulness, which isn’t great, either. Or maybe, like me this week, Jesus was just tired and feeling rushed and put upon and taken for granted by people who needed their emergency to become his emergency at a time when he just didn’t feel like he had it in him. (For me it was phone calls and requests from some folks outside of the congregation – none of you, in other words. One was from a guy who needed help at the food pantry – NOW; another was someone looking for marriage counseling; and another was a woman who had a sick child, was out of work following surgery, and who needed help with her rent … IMMEDIATELY.) For what it’s worth, like Jesus, I ultimately helped two of them and I plan to call the third. I just wasn’t my best self along the way or in my heart of hearts … I was a little slow on the uptake, a little frustrated in the meantime, I was cynical, suspicious, and skeptical about the “need” of their “need.” I dragged my feet and I thought some thoughts, if you know what I mean. So, while I don’t like experiencing or seeing or admitting to this side of myself – or to this side of Jesus – bear with me for a minute. To not see this side of the story is to miss something significant; something practical; something holy. Because what we see – for my money – is one of the greatest examples of Jesus’ humanity. Even Jesus could put up barriers. Even Jesus had blinders on every now and again. Even Jesus, it seems, had trouble feeling the pain, understanding the need, recognizing the desperation of those who weren’t like him. And even Jesus struggled to acknowledge the difference his kind of GRACE could mean for some people. It’s not the picture I’ve painted of Jesus in our heart of hearts, for the most part. It’s not the gracious response we’ve come to expect from our Lord. It’s not the open arms and the open heart and the open mind I’d rather tell you about. And if this was true for Jesus from time to time – shouldn’t each of us imagine … wonder about … consider deeply ... acknowledge – that it might also be true of us in more ways than we are always able to recognize or willing to admit? And, as hard as it may be to see in Jesus or to acknowledge about ourselves, we should, because I believe what happens next for Jesus, and by God’s grace, is the point in all of this. What happens when Jesus encounters this nameless Canaanite woman – seemingly so different from him and his kind – is that he learns something about her, about himself, and about the power and potential of his ministry. This annoying, persistent, desperate woman – searching for her daughter’s cure – pushed Jesus and his ministry to a new level. What she showed Jesus and what she shows us is that we can open ourselves up in surprising ways. We learn from Jesus that his ministry – and ours – is for those we don’t always understand or “see” and who experience the world differently than we do. The guy who got help from the pantry was humbly grateful for it this week, as he always is. The woman whose rent I paid could barely contain her great joy and sincere gratitude when I called to tell her I was on the way to deliver it – she wept with gratitude and raised a few “hallelujah’s.” Her landlord told me I didn’t even know the kind of blessing I was able to be for her this week. (Which wasn’t me, by the way. I just got to deliver that blessing, thanks to the funds you all contribute to our Pastors’ Discretionary Account for such occasions.) So for me, the Good News in this morning’s Gospel is found in the humanity we’re allowed to see in Jesus – and allowed to acknowledge in ourselves, because of it. The even better Good News in this morning’s Gospel is that Jesus, in spite of that humanity, makes a change. And the best news of all in this morning’s Gospel is that it’s a call to invite that kind of change in ourselves – to slow down and to see people more clearly, more fully, more patiently; for the sake of grace … for the sake of mercy … for the sake of the world our God so loves. Amen

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