Dim Lamp/קנה רצוץ לא ישבור

23 Pentecost Yr B, 8/11/2009

Mk 12:38-40

Rev. Garth Wehrfritz-Hanson

Pastor of Grace Lutheran Church, &

Chaplain of The Good Samaritan Society’s

South Ridge Village, Medicine Hat, Alberta

“Jesus and the scribes”

Bragging may not bring happiness, but did you ever see a person, having caught a large fish, go home through an alley? The story is told about a man who was reading the schedule for his community’s upcoming meetings. He snorted about one program, “He’s going to talk to us about his naval experiences? Poppycock! The nearest he ever came to a naval experience was when his basement flooded and his rowing machine sank.” As that wise person, Anonymous once said: “Pride is the only disease that makes everyone sick but the one who has it.”

In today’s gospel, which takes place inside the Jerusalem temple, Jesus is teaching, and has a captive audience. Right there, in the place of religious power, Jesus lowers the boom so-to-speak on the religious scribes, who may also have functioned as priests in the temple; at least Ezra had that duel role according to Nehemiah 8:9 after the return home to Judah from Babylonian exile. At any rate, Jesus does not hold back on his criticism and judgement of the scribes. He criticizes and judges them on a few counts.

In contemporary, colourful language, Eugene Peterson in The Message puts it like this: “He continued teaching. “Watch out for the religion scholars. They love to walk around in academic gowns, preening in the radiance of public flattery, basking in prominent positions, sitting at the head table at every church function. And all the time they are exploiting the weak and helpless. The longer their prayers, the worse they get. But they’ll pay for it in the end.”

As you can see from this version of our gospel, Jesus comes across as one who is stirring the pot against the religious establishment of his day. Here he does seem to be “a rabble rowser.” The picture Mark gives us is one of a heightening drama; with a growing conflict and collision course between Jesus and the religious establishment. So, let’s unpack a little each of the criticisms and judgements that Jesus makes against the scribes.

In verse 38, Jesus starts off by saying: “Beware of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes.” As Peterson suggests, these folks could be the professor types or cutting closer to the bone for me, us clergy. Yes, professors and clergy often do like to be seen in our long robes. What’s wrong with that? Is not a robe better than showing off that eight-hundred or thousand dollar suit that the televangelists love to wear? Is not a robe less ostentatious than other distracting or inappropriate clothing? Even in the New Testament, there are positive references to robes—especially for the faithful who have gone to their eternal reward. So what’s wrong with wearing a long robe? Well, here’s why, according to Dr. William Barclay:

A long robe which swept the ground was the sign of a notable. It was the kind of robe in which no one could either hurry or work, and was the sign of the leisured (person) of honour. It may be that the phrase has another meaning. In obedience to Numbers 15:38 the Jews wore tassels at the edge of their outer robe. These tassels were to remind them that they were the people of God. Quite possibly these legal experts wore outsize tassels for special prominence (cf. Matthew 23:5). At all events they liked to dress in such a way that it drew attention to themselves and to the honour they enjoyed.1 In contrast, less ostentatious scribes only wore their long robes during prayer and while they were working at their scribal duties. There is a time and place for all things. If I were to wear my robe every day in public, I’m sure I’d get some weird looks and draw plenty of attention to myself. So, too, on special occasions like university graduation ceremonies; it is appropriate to wear a robe. If you didn’t wear a robe on such an occasion, you would stand out like a sore thumb. So here Jesus is criticizing and judging not all scribes. Rather, he’s referring to the pretentious group of scribes who love to draw attention to themselves by wearing their robes in inappropriate circumstances.

The next criticism and judgement Jesus raises is that the scribes like: “to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces.” In other words, they liked to be praised in public—to have an air of pretentiousness, to exude an official, formal image. On the other hand, do we not all desire some respect in the public eye? Don’t we all want a respectable reputation among the general public? Are there not far too many charlatans out there fleecing folks with their shady business deals, their “get rich quick” schemes, and snake oil religion? Recently in news we’ve heard of how a group of Jewish rabbis swindled folks like Holocaust survivor Elie Wiesel. Here in Canada, the Roman Catholic Church was shocked to learn that one of their bishops was caught with child pornography on his laptop computer. So what’s wrong with wanting respect among the general public?

What’s wrong with being greeted with respect in the marketplaces was that at the time of Jesus, it was customary for a superior person to be greeted first by an inferior person—only after such a greeting would the superior person respond. In other words, such scribes who demanded to be greeted first were again acting pretentiously. Scribes of this ilk were saying by this behaviour: “Know your place; I’m better than you. I’m of noble stock, you’re a mere commoner.” In stark contrast to this attitude and behaviour Jesus’ attitude and behaviour epitomised humility. He befriended the ordinary folk of his day. In fact, he went further than anyone at the time by regarding the social and religious outcasts as sons and daughters of God, created in God’s image, like all other people. He came not to be served, but to serve folks—especially the lost, last and least.

In verse 39, Jesus continues his criticism and judgement of the scribes by saying they like: “to have the best seats in the synagogues and places of honour at banquets.” In defence of the best synagogue seats, maybe there is a rationale. For example, would it not be legitimate to have a best seat in the synagogue if a scribe were elderly and couldn’t see or hear very well? Perhaps the best front-row-seats would help them with such impairments in mind. On the other hand, Jesus’ words of indictment here seem to mean the scribes have a self-centred preoccupation with externals—their public image and identity, that’s what really mattered to them. “Hey, look at me, I’m important. See how great I art! I’m the centre of attention.” Again, in stark contrast, Jesus teaches no, such an attitude and behaviour is wrong. What is truly important; what really counts according to Jesus is what is inside more than externals. What is in our heart, that is what counts the most according to Jesus. Jesus’ teaching here is also affirmed by authentic Judaism. You remember the words of Psalm 51, which epitomise this, the psalmist prays: “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and put a new and right spirit within me.” And a few verses later: “The sacrifice acceptable to God is a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.”

In his final indictment of the scribes, Jesus accuses them of abusing their religion, saying: “They devour widows’ houses.” Now this is a pretty serious charge, preying on society’s most vulnerable, the widows. While they rob widows, they have a false veneer of piety and: “for the sake of appearance say long prayers.” Does this mean that all prayers should be kept short? I think not, if we are to keep Paul’s admonition to “pray without ceasing.” Long prayers in today’s gospel seem to have the intention of duping people—you know, “the wolf in sheep’s clothing” syndrome. The scribes are trying to impress others for the sake of show by the long prayers. Their prayers are not out of genuine love and concern for their neighbour.

Here again Jesus’ own life and ministry is a stark contrast to such proud, self-absorbed scribes. The gospels tell us that Jesus had mercy on the most vulnerable folks like widows. In verses 41 to 44 of our gospel he praises the unnamed widow for giving what little she had to the temple treasury, saying that she had given all she had. On another occasion, Jesus healed the son of a widow, knowing that she would be left destitute if she lost her son. So, in Christ’s eyes, widows were loved and cared for and highly regarded. As for prayers, the gospels tell us that Jesus would get up early in the morning and go to a quiet place away from people, and pray alone there. So prayers were not a show that Jesus put on to impress others. Rather, prayers were from Christ’s heart and soul, poured out in love to his heavenly Father for the sake of you and me and the whole world.

May we continue to learn from Christ’s humility, love for others, and service of others. May we learn from Jesus that life and faith is not lording it over others and placing ourselves on centre stage. Rather, according to Jesus, life and faith is giving of ourselves without asking what’s in it for us or how we can advance ourselves to a higher status. In the words of Jesus elsewhere in the gospels, life and faith consists of denying self, taking up our cross, and following Jesus. Amen.

1 Wm. Barclay, The Gospel Of Mark (Philadelphia: The Westminster Press, 1975), pp. 299-300.

All Saints Sunday Yr B, 1/11/2009

Isa 25:6-9

Rev. Garth Wehrfritz-Hanson

Pastor of Grace Lutheran Church, &

Chaplain of The Good Samaritan Society’s

South Ridge Village, Medicine Hat, Alberta

“God’s saving acts”

The story is told of two evil brothers. They were rich and used their money to keep their ways from the public eye. They even attended the same church, and looked to be perfect Christians.

Then their pastor retired, and a new one was hired. Not only could he see right through the brothers’ deception, but he also spoke well and true, and the church started to build a new assembly. All of a sudden, one of the brothers died. The remaining brother sought out the new pastor the day before the funeral and handed him a check for the amount needed to finish paying for the new building.

“I have only one condition,” he said. “At his funeral, you must say my brother was a saint.” The pastor gave his word, and deposited the check.

The next day, at the funeral, the pastor did not hold back. “He was an evil man,” he said. “He cheated on his wife and abused his family.” After going on in this vein for a small time, he concluded with, “But compared to his brother, he was a saint.”1

The story, although humorous, raises the following question on this All Saints Sunday: Who is a saint? Is a saint one who does not sin? Are saints reserved for such elitist people who think they are perfect? Do you have to undergo some “burning bush” or “Damascus road” encounter with God before you qualify as a saint? Or perhaps you have to work miracles like making the blind see and the lame walk to be a saint? Maybe you have to be a prophet and predict the future to be a saint? Or do you have to be a televangelist and accumulate over one million dollars a year income to qualify as a saint?

Who is a saint anyways? Well, it seems Christians have trouble agreeing on who qualifies as a saint. A number of years ago, a bishop of Sweden said, “Saints are those who make it easier to believe in God.” Not a bad definition, yet I’m not completely convinced, since that seems to suggest there is an elitist group of folks who tower above the rest of us. On the other hand, the truth of the matter is that even those who make it easier to believe in God have their imperfections and shortcomings. You, me, all of us have feet of clay. So I’ll go for another definition of a saint. Who is a saint? The right answer for me is: A forgiven sinner. We Lutherans historically have preferred this answer, as we believe that we are simul justus et peccator—translated into English that means we are simultaneously justified and sinful. At one and the same time we are sinners and saints.

You don’t need to do anything; you cannot do a thing to save yourself—only God can do that. Yet, paradoxically, we are commanded to do good works. However, not because they can make one iota of a difference in God’s eyes to get on the good side of God and he’ll reward us eternally for them. NO WAY! Rather, we do good works because they are the result of—and our response to— what God has done for us through Jesus Christ. You see, we take very seriously the words of Jesus in John’s Gospel: “apart from me you can do nothing.” (Jn 15:5) We also take very seriously the words in 1 John 4:19: “We love, because he (God) first loved us.” So, every good work we are able to do is possible because God first acted to take the initiative, to love and save us first.

Speaking of God’s saving love and action; we have a beautiful picture of this in today’s passage from Isaiah. The metaphors grab our attention. Isaiah gives us a picture here of the LORD playing host on Mount Zion at a future banquet feast. He is host “for all peoples” whom he loves. God’s menu shall not consist of ordinary fare either. Rather, on the menu shall be quite exquisite food and drink: “a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wines, of rich food filled with marrow, of well-aged wines strained clear.” Notice too that the Central Actor is the LORD; he’s the one who shall prepare and serve this banquet feast.

The next verse continues with God as the Central Actor. Now the metaphors change though. In verse seven we have the Warrior God who “will destroy…the shroud that is cast over all peoples, the sheet that is spread over all nations.” The shroud and sheet that the prophet is referring to here is death, which is the consequence of sin in the world. In the last segment of this verse, Isaiah gives us yet another picture that parallels the previous verse. However this time, it’s God who is doing the eating. Did you notice the strange fare? Isaiah tells us that the LORD “will swallow up death forever.” Now that doesn’t sound very appetizing to me—however, who am I to tell God what to eat?! Why would Isaiah describe God’s destruction of death by making a banquet feast for God out of it? Well, maybe it’s not so strange—at least to a Jewish audience.

The rabbis in their general and humorous playfulness pictured “the coming age” under many images, and one of them was the delightful image of the huge banquet in which Messiah would gather together with his people. As a matter of fact in some of these playful rabbinic exercises one had even settled the menu for the messianic banquet. One was going to feed on Leviathan, thereby signifying the destruction of evil at the same time as there would be the great and glorious banquet.2 So it is here with Isaiah the prophet who sees a future bursting with hope and joy at God the Warrior’s victory over and destruction of death. Notice that Isaiah tells us death will not come back to haunt us at a later date. NO! The LORD “will swallow up death FOREVER! What a victory that shall be—one in which all of our longings of hope and joy shall be fulfilled.

God doesn’t stop there though. Listen, there’s more here of God the Central Actor. In verse eight, Isaiah changes the metaphor on us again. Now the LORD is like a gentle Father. The prophet tells us there will be no more sadness, since God “will wipe away the tears from all faces.” Usually tears are also connected with sadness and death as well as suffering. In this future reign of God, all of that shall be wiped away by our LORD. Now that’s something to look forward to with hope and joy. Isaiah goes on to say in verse nine that God will continue to act, how? He says, “the disgrace of his people God will take away from all the earth.” Why disgrace? Well disgrace comes from our sinful state, we do things that we regret later when we look back on those foolish, sinful acts. However, what’s done is done, and can disgrace us; we can’t undo what we did, even though we desperately wish that we could. We cannot always reverse the disgrace we bring upon ourselves. We need the LORD’s help. Isaiah promises that God will help us by taking away our disgrace from all the earth. After it has been taken away, then we can come closer to our LORD and live more in peace and harmony with him as well as with each other.

The closing verse nine of our passage then focuses on the response of God’s people, the saints who shall be the recipients of all of these acts of God. Here Isaiah records the saints giving God the glory and worship and honour for what he has done: “It will be said on that day, Lo, this is our God; we have waited for him, so that he might save us. This is the LORD for whom we have waited; let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation.” So the response of God’s saints to the saving acts of God is twofold here: waiting for the LORD and worshipping him in gladness by rejoicing in his salvation.

On this All Saints Sunday, we continue to wait for the LORD as we long for that time when we shall share more completely in the communion of saints in heaven. Yet, we also worship God in gladness by rejoicing in his salvation thanks to what Jesus Christ has accomplished for us by giving us a Holy Meal to bask in his Presence among us and receive “a foretaste of the feast to come,” the heavenly banquet which has no end. Amen.

 1 Cited from: David E. Leininger, Lectionary Tales For The Pulpit: Series VI Cycle B (Lima, OH: CSS Publishing Co., Inc., 2008), pp. 265-266.

2 Cited from: Krister Stendahl, Meanings: The Bible as Document and as Guide (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1984), p. 185.

18 Pentecost Yr B, 4/10/2009

Job 1:1; 2:1-10

Rev. Garth Wehrfritz-Hanson

Pastor of Grace Lutheran Church, &

Chaplain of The Good Samaritan Society’s

South Ridge Village, Medicine Hat, Alberta

“Job’s suffering”

Have you ever felt that God was punishing you? Do you think that God tests our love for him? Is faith worth anything if it is not put on trial? What kind of a God do you believe in, worship, and serve? Questions of this nature crop up when we face suffering or when we read the Book of Job.

Many people, even today, look at faith and ask: “What’s in it for me?” Such folks can often reduce God to a cosmic bell hop, and demand that God give them everything they ask for. Do you need a parking spot close to the bank? No problem, ask God in prayer for one, and viola, an empty space is waiting for you when you arrive. Do you need an A+ on your final exam? No matter that you didn’t study the material, just pray the night before and magically God will give you that A+. Do you have cancer? Pray for healing and God will heal you. Such a view of God and prayer operates with the ages-old belief that: If you are a righteous person, God will protect and reward you throughout your lifetime. If you are a sinner and a wicked person, then God will punish you and afflict you with all kinds of sufferings. Is such a belief-system true though? Does it stand up to real life situations?

Listen to what one pastor had to say about such beliefs: I remember reading an article by Chaplain Stephen Webster, who was in Europe with the American Forces during the Second World War. It was an angry article called “Who Gets the Breaks in Prayer?” He told his readers that he was fed up with all the stories of miraculous rescues at sea and deliverances from rafts adrift in the North Atlantic; deliverances attributed by people to God in response to their great faith. Such incidents foster the idea that if only we are good and say our prayers, God will never let us down. He will look after us and do precisely what we ask Him to do. Chaplain Webster wanted to tell of the good men and women he knew who were not rescued. They prayed and they had faith, but they were not miraculously plucked from danger, but died, undelivered, yet still full of faith and trust.1

Contrary to “the health and wealth gospel” of our day and of every age, God is not our cosmic bell hop. A religion, a faith that is rooted in selfishness cannot stand the tests of time. Oh yes, it keeps cropping up all right, but that’s because of who we are as human beings—we are sinners. Sinners shall always want to be God in God’s place. Sinners shall always be turned in upon themselves. In our old sinful nature, we shall always ask: “What’s in this for me?” We shall always be tempted to oversimplify God and our faith into the formula that: “The good and righteous people shall prosper, be blessed and protected by God; while the wicked and sinful people shall be punished by God and suffer.”

The Book of Job was, I think, written to debunk such an oversimplified view of God and faith. God is far more complicated than that, and so is faith. God, in addition to being closer to us than we ourselves is also the Wholly Other God, the Transcendent One who is shrouded in mystery and far beyond human comprehension. Our faith is very complex too. Faithful folks like you and I know that life is full of vicissitudes—we have ups and we have downs. Yes, there are mountaintop experiences that fill us with joy and hope. However, there are also journeys into dark valleys of despair, doubt and suffering. Life is full of paradoxes—when we go through sufferings and illnesses we are not necessarily being punished for them. Rather, the sufferings and illnesses strengthen our faith and trust in the LORD; draw us closer to Christ and his sufferings; and give us compassion towards others who face sufferings and illnesses.

In today’s first lesson from the Book of Job, we are given a helpful example of how to handle the sufferings of life. The story starts off with the narrator telling us that Job was: “blameless and upright, one who feared God and turned away from evil.” The Good News Bible puts it like this, Job: “worshipped God and was faithful to him.” In other words, Job was a man of integrity and honesty, and highly ethical, practicing mercy and justice in his relations with others.

For several years, God blessed Job with happiness, health and wealth. He and his wife gave birth to 7 sons and 3 daughters. He possessed 500 oxen and 500 donkeys; 7,000 sheep and 3,000 camels. Job also employed many workers. So, for several years, life was good for Job, his wife and their family.

However, that situation changes with the blink of an eye! Satan, here a member of God’s heavenly court, before he was cast down from heaven; is sceptical about Job and his motives of faithfulness. Satan says to God that it’s easy for a person to be faithful to God if he or she is doing well in life. What would happen though if all of their possessions and wealth were taken away? Satan, whose name means “the accuser,” challenges God and says that Job will curse God to his face if Job’s possessions and wealth were taken away. God accepts the challenge and allows Satan to wreak havoc with Job’s possessions and wealth, with the condition that he does not kill Job. So, in the blink of an eye, everything is taken away from Job. Job’s oxen and donkeys; sheep and camels; his many servants; even his sons and daughters perished, not one of them survived—all in one day! What tragedy! How could Job not reach his breaking point in the face of such tragedy? Yet, he does not reach breaking point. God obviously created him and graced him with the capacity to endure all of these sufferings.

However, Satan, not happy with Job’s integrity and uprightness, pushes the envelope further. Now he challenges God to let him afflict Job’s person. According to Satan, if Job’s own bone and flesh were struck, he would curse God to God’s face. God, again obviously trusting that Job could endure such a test, gives Satan the go-ahead, with the limitation that he must spare Job’s life. Job is then attacked with “loathsome sores…from the sole of his foot to the crown of his head.” For relief from these irritable sores, Job picks up a piece of pottery and scratches himself, sitting among the ashes, which may be the town’s garbage dump. The ashes may be a sign of Job’s humility before God in the face of his suffering.

Watching all of this suffering is too much for Job’s wife, she finally cries out: “Do you still persist in your integrity? Curse God, and die.” Actually the Hebrew word for curse is ambiguous here, it can also mean bless. Job’s wife, perhaps out of love for her husband, feels helpless in the face of Job’s suffering. Perhaps she can see no alternative than for Job to die—whether this is a death wish on her part as a consequence to Job’s illness or whether she is counselling Job to commit suicide as a way out of his suffering, is not clear from the text. At any rate, we should not likely be too judgemental of Job’s wife—rather, her words may well be motivated by her love and care for her husband.

Job, however seems to rebuke her, saying she speaks like “any foolish woman would speak.” He then concludes by understanding his suffering with the following answer in the form of a question: “Shall we receive the good at the hand of God, and not receive the bad?” The narrator of the story then concludes by praising Job’s faithfulness: “In all this Job did not sin with his lips.”

In other words, Job was tested to see if he could love God for nothing. Would he remain faithful to God in the face of suffering? Was he able to love God without a cause; without payment or reward; without a reason? True love of God is not conditional—we cannot truly love God because of this or because of that. The minute we do so, we’re putting conditions on God. True love of God, is like Job’s love for God. We love God because we love God, for no other reason.

C.S. Lewis was once asked, “Why do the righteous suffer?” “Why not?” he replied. “They’re the only ones who can take it.” Today’s story of Job’s suffering bears faithful witness to C.S. Lewis’ answer. May we, like Job, be able to love God because we love God, for no other reason. Amen.

1 Cited from: R. Maurice Boyd, A Lover’s Quarrel With The World: Sermons by R. Maurice Boyd (Burlington, ON: Welch Publishing Co. Inc., 1985), pp. 119-120.

(DEAR READERS: In the next several weeks my sermons shall not be based on the Revised Common Lectionary).

6 Pentecost Yr B, 12/07/2009

First in a Series of Sermons

On The Parables of Jesus in Mark

Mk 2:18-22

Rev. Garth Wehrfritz-Hanson

Pastor of Grace Lutheran Church, &

Chaplain of The Good Samaritan Society’s

South Ridge Village, Medicine Hat, Alberta

“Introduction, fasting & feasting, old & new”

Today, as I often do during this longest season of the church year; I am going to digress from the appointed Bible passages in order to begin a new sermon series on the parables of Jesus in Mark’s Gospel. So, for starters then, we ask: What is a parable?

Biblical scholars have come up with several definitions. The simplest definition may be as follows: A parable is an earthly story with a heavenly message. Another definition runs like this: A parable is a very short story with a double meaning—the surface or literal meaning and the deeper or symbolic meaning. Here is my attempt at a definition, which is a bit longer: A parable is a word-picture story with a zinger of a message. The parable is cast in creative language; often born out of a conflict situation; designed to surprise the hearers and lead them into deeper thinking followed by appropriate action. A parable may or may not include an interpretation.

Parables are found in both Testaments of the Bible, and were a common method of teaching employed by Jewish rabbis. In addition to Jesus’ parables in the Gospels, you likely remember the parable that Nathan told King David about the poor man and his only little ewe lamb in 2 Sam 12; or the song-parable of the unfruitful vineyard in Isaiah 5.

The Greek for parable is parabolé. Etymologically, a parabolé is simply a comparison, a putting of one thing beside another to make a point.

G.K. Chesterton, who was a master of the apt illustration, once gave some sardonic advice about the limitations of parabolic discourse. He said that if you give people an analogy that they claim they do not understand, you should graciously offer them another. If they say they don’t understand that either, you should oblige them with a third. But from there on, Chesterton said, if they still insist they do not understand, the only thing left is to praise them for the one truth they do have a grip on: “Yes,” you tell them, “that is quite correct. You do not understand.”

To put it simply, Jesus began where Chesterton left off. In resorting so often to parables, his main point was that any understanding of the kingdom his hearers could come up with would be a misunderstanding. Mention “messiah” to them, and they would picture a king on horseback, not a carpenter on a cross; mention “forgiveness” and they would start setting up rules about when it ran out. From Jesus’ point of view, the sooner their misguided minds had the props knocked from under them, the better.

In any case, speaking in parables was second nature to Jesus, and it quickly became the hallmark of his teaching style. Clearly then, if we want to hear the actual ticking of Jesus’ mind, we can hardly do better than to study his parabolic words and acts over and over—with our minds open not only to learning but to joy.1

So let us now take a look at our first parable in Mark’s Gospel, which is actually a triad of parables lumped together on fasting and feasting, along with the theme of old and new, found in Mark 2:18-22. The parables also are found in Matthew 9:14-17 and Luke 5:33-39, but more about that later.

The parable begins with a question put to Jesus about the fasting of John’s disciples and the Pharisees’ disciples—why do they fast while Jesus’ disciples do not fast? In Jewish tradition, the only required fast was on the Day of Atonement. However, more strict Jews fasted twice a week, on Mondays and Thursdays; although this practice was not a requirement.

Jesus answers the question by saying that it is not proper to fast at a wedding feast in the presence of the bridegroom. In Jewish tradition, a wedding often lasted for about a week. For many poor Jews, it was the most joyous celebration of a lifetime. The week long wedding feasting was the highlight of their life. Who would want to fast during a wedding celebration? Fasting at a wedding would be about as ridiculous as wearing nothing but a swimming suit outside in minus 40 degree temperatures.

Of course, the deeper meaning here is that the bridegroom refers to Jesus himself and the wedding party feasting with the bridegroom refers to Jesus’ disciples with Jesus during the time of his life in this world. In the Jewish tradition of the First Testament, the wedding language is also employed and refers to God and his covenant with the Israelites. So the overall message here is that while Jesus the bridegroom is with us he comes to give us joy and we celebrate his presence among us. That is why in Christian worship we sing hymns, which express our deepest joy in Christ. What a joy and privilege it is celebrating Christ’s presence among us.

Now we turn to Jesus’ words addressing the theme of old and new. He gives two down-to-earth examples. “No one sews a piece of unshrunk cloth on an old cloak; otherwise the patch pulls away from it, the new from the old, and a worse tear is made.” The new unshrunk piece of cloth reminds me of times when I’ve bought new shirts; tried them on in the store; liked them; bought them; brought them home; and washed them. And guess what? The shirts don’t fit—they’ve shrunk. According to Jesus, new unshrunk cloth is too strong for an old well-worn cloak. The threads and fibres of the old cloak rip even more as the new patch shrinks after a wash. Old and new don’t always work together well. A one-hundred-year old man or woman is not going to run a full-length marathon. In fact, they might not even be able run period. Yet, go back when they were twenty-five-years-old and they might have won an Olympic gold medal.

Jesus goes on with the same theme of the old and new by saying: “And no one puts new wine into old wineskins; otherwise, the wine will burst the skins, and the wine is lost, and so are the skins; but one puts new wine into fresh wineskins.”

In Matthew and Luke, we discover there are some variations. What strikes me though is that in Mark, the point comes across as an instruction of how to store new wine properly and the consequence if one fails to do so. In Matthew, the additional words “and so both are preserved” provides a purpose for storing the new wine. The implication being that preservation is necessary for the drinking of a high quality wine. In Luke, verse thirty-nine communicates more explicitly, what Matthew communicates implicitly—namely that everyone who drinks old wine prefers it to new wine.

Now historically, this parable has been interpreted allegorically, something along these lines: The old wine and wineskins symbolize the Jewish people and God’s covenant with them or the Torah and Judaism. The new wine and wineskins symbolize the Church and the new covenant or Christ and Christianity. The exhortation not to mix old with new is practical—the fermentation process of new wine expands the wineskins and old skins that have been stretched to their limits can only expand so far, then they will explode. However, is there also a theological point here? Is this exhortation not to mix the old with the new a hardening of positions between church and synagogue? Or is it a reflection of the Torah teaching forbidding certain mixtures? For example, according to the Torah you would not mix certain kinds of fabric for clothing or certain kinds of foods like dairy products with meat, they had to be separated and eaten separately.

It is interesting—and I believe instructive for both Jews and Christians—to note that in the parable, in all three versions, both the wine and the skins seem to be valuable. If that is true, then we can make the case for valuing both the Torah and Judaism, the Jewish people and their covenant—and the Church and the new covenant, Christ and Christianity. Indeed, thanks to Judaism, the Torah has been preserved and remains God’s Living Word. The same is true of the Church concerning the new covenant and the Gospel.

Finally, Luke’s additional conclusion to the parable in verse thirty-nine is, if interpreted along these lines, a remarkable compliment to Judaism and the Torah. According to Luke, Jesus concludes by saying: “And no one after drinking old wine desires new wine, but says, ‘The old is good.’ “

So, it would seem that in certain matters the old and new do not mix, and the new is superior to the old. In other matters, the reverse is true, the old as in wine, is superior to the new. Jesus calls us to think deeply about the old and new. What of the new do we need to accept and celebrate? What of the new do we refuse? What of the old is good and do we need to honour and keep? What of the old needs to be left behind? One thing is certain, Jesus loves us whether we are old or new or in-between; and one day, God shall make all things new. Amen.

1 Cited from: Robert Farrar Capon, The Parables of the Kingdom (Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., the Zondervan Corporation, 1985), pp. 8-11.

2 Pentecost Yr B, 14/06/2009

I Sam 15:34-16:13 & 2 Cor 5:6-10, 14-17

Rev. Garth Wehrfritz-Hanson

Pastor of Grace Lutheran Church, &

Chaplain of The Good Samaritan Society’s

South Ridge Village, Medicine Hat, Alberta

“The LORD looks on the heart”

We’re all familiar with the old adages: “Appearances can be deceiving; never judge a book by its cover; looks are only skin deep.” I’m sure that most, if not all of you here today have experienced—either negatively or positively—the truth of these adages, which are rooted in the Bible.

Here’s a contemporary story that underscores these adages. Mr. Swiller was known far and wide as a hard-nosed boss who watched his employees like a hawk. He was making one of his regular tours of the factory when he spotted a young man leaning against a pile of boxes just outside the foreman’s office. Since George, the foreman, wasn’t around, Swiller stood off to the side and watched to see just how long the young man would stand around doing nothing.

The young man yawned, scratched his head, looked at his watch, and sat on the floor. He took out a nail file and began cleaning his nails. Then he stretched, yawned again, and leaned back on the pile of boxes.

Swiller stepped from his hiding place and walked up to the young man. “You!” he boomed. “How much do you make a week?”

The young man looked up indifferently. “Two hundred and fifty dollars,” he said.

Swiller swooped into the cashier’s office, took $250 from the cash box, and returned. “Take it,” he said, “and get out! Don’t let me see you around here again!”

The young man took the cash, put it in his pocket, and left. Swiller snorted at his lack of remorse, embarrassment, or any other feeling. Then he went looking for George. When he found him, Swiller was red with anger. “That idler in front of your office,” Swiller said. “I just gave him a week’s pay and fired him. What’s the matter with you, letting him stand around as though he had nothing to do?”

“You mean the kid in the red shirt?” George asked.

“Yes! The kid in the red shirt!”

“He was waiting for the twenty dollars we owe him for lunch,” George said. “He works for the coffee shop around the corner.”1

Appearances are deceiving; never judge a book by its cover; looks are only skin deep.

In both our first and second lessons today, these adages are affirmed. The anointing of David as king by the prophet Samuel is full of political intrigue and surprise. Samuel, regretting having anointed Saul as king, goes to Bethlehem under the divine decoy plan of offering a sacrifice. His real reason for going there is to carry out God’s directive to anoint a son of Jesse, whom God shall show Samuel. We are surprised to learn that the most obvious sons are turned down.

Why? Well, there are at least two reasons. The stated reason comes from the voice of the LORD to Samuel in verse seven: “Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature, because I have rejected him; for the LORD does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the LORD looks on the heart.” Then, after all Jesse’s sons present are rejected, the youngest son is fetched and Samuel is told by God to “Rise and anoint him; for this is the one.” God’s omniscience, his all-knowing capacity to see into the heart—the true essence and character of a person—causes him to choose David as king, likely much to the shock and surprise of everyone else.

The second reason that the other sons are turned down is more implicit in this story. However, to understand the second reason, we need to remember an important biblical principle that Martin Luther and other interpreters of the Bible have found most helpful. The principle is: scripture interprets scripture. What we mean by that is there are certain themes written large repeatedly in the Bible and it is helpful for us to read the Bible in its larger context to help us discover deeper meanings. In this passage of I Samuel, we have the theme of God choosing the youngest son. Now that theme runs throughout the Bible. Remember, for example, that God chose younger Abel’s sacrifice instead of Cain’s. God favoured Isaac over Ishmael; Jacob over Esau; Joseph over his older brothers. In the New Testament, God seems to favour the youngest, prodigal son over the eldest son. So, in today’s first lesson that theme appears again. God favours and blesses the least likely—those who are excluded by the majority because they are considered too young for the job at hand. As Jesus also said: “The last shall be first, and the first last.”

Our second lesson also connects us in a similar way as this story of God choosing David. The apostle Paul is speaking about his longing to leave this life and be with Christ in heaven. The key to understanding what Paul is saying here is found in verse seven, where he says: “for we walk by faith, not by sight.”

We quite often say, “Yes, I’ve heard of that person but I don’t know him by sight,” or, “I’ve spoken to her on the phone, but I don’t know her by sight.” Our knowledge of God is similarly “not by sight.” Our knowledge of Jesus is “not by sight.” We do, of course, know so much of Jesus, both historically through the Gospels, and in the present by his Spirit, that seeing him, marvellous though it would be, would simply confirm what we already know. Nevertheless, seeing is what we long for, and the promise of it gives us confidence, as Paul repeats in verse 8.2

Walking by faith, not by sight is an act of trust, as the following story attests:

“Oh great!”

Al was not excited about being at this workshop on team-building, but his boss was on a big kick about it, and Al needed at least to look cooperative.

But know the workshop leader was asking people to pair up for a trust walk, to be blindfolded and led by voice through whatever obstacles were ahead.

Al hated that. He had always been afraid of the dark, something he carefully hid from others because it embarrassed him. He didn’t know why darkness was so frightening to him, but he did know that he did put stock in anything he could see.

If it were a concept, a promise, an idea, a dream, forget it. Give him something tangible, something concrete, and he could deal with it. Give him something he could control, and he was fine.

But now this. Al didn’t even really know the partner who was to lead him around. His nametag said Larry, but that told him nothing.

The workshop leader gave instructions.

“I want you to walk by trust, not by sight,” she said, “Let your partner guide you, using only the voice, and get a sense of letting go of your own control, so that you may be responsive to someone outside of you.”

“There is that word again,” Al thought. “Control. It is mine. Why should I give it up? I’m comfortable with it. Why should someone else get to take it away from me?”

Larry handed Al his blindfold, and said, “Let’s get started.”

They exchanged some small talk, but Al was not listening. He was hearing his head instead, telling him just to get it over with, that it shouldn’t be this hard, that people do this all the time.

Then he was hearing his gut tell him otherwise: “Don’t do it,” it was telling him. “You take charge.”

Al stalled, but Larry was persistent. “Give up,” he smiled.

So Al reluctantly placed the blindfold over his eyes. “All right, I give up,” he said to himself.

The voice began to lead him, but Al suddenly realized it was not Larry’s voice, and it was not the voice of the workshop leader.

“Follow me,” the voice was saying. “Give me control of your steps, and I will show you the way. Trust me as you walk, I will guide you. Don’t you see that?”

Maybe Al did see something when the blindfold went on. Maybe he did see that it is possible to see by faith what is not seen by the eyes. Maybe the voice assured him that these steps would be the first steps out of the darkness of his fear.

“Trust me,” Larry said.

Al sighed, “I’ll try,” he replied.

Larry smiled and said, “It’s a step in the right direction.”3

“The LORD looks on the heart; we walk by faith, not by sight.” Let us pray: Jesus, we struggle with many fears. We bring them to you, and in return, we ask you to help us place all of our trust in you. In your Holy Name. Amen.

1 I do not have the source of this story; however, it came my way via e-mail a few years ago.

2 N.T. Wright, Reflecting The Glory: Meditations for Living Christ’s Life in the World (Minneapolis: Augsburg Books, 1998), p. 44.

3 Paul Lintern, “Believing Is Seeing,” in: 56 Lectionary Stories For Preaching: Based Upon The Revised Common Lectionary Cycle B (Lima, OH: CSS Publishing Co., Inc., 1993), pp. 73-74.

Day of Pentecost Yr B, 31/05/2009

Acts 2:1-21

Rev. Garth Wehrfritz-Hanson

Pastor of Grace Lutheran Church, &

Chaplain of The Good Samaritan Society’s

South Ridge Village, Medicine Hat, Alberta

“The Gift of the Holy Spirit”

The Day of Pentecost. The third major festival day of the church year. The day when, according to Luke’s account in Acts chapter two, the Christian Church was born by the event of the Holy Spirit’s visitation. Yet, over the centuries, and even on that Day of Pentecost over two thousand years ago, there were and still are misunderstandings of what actually happened on that special day.

Sometimes misunderstandings are accidental. Consider this little vignette. A little old lady planning a vacation wrote a letter to a particular campground to inquire about its facilities. She could not bring herself to write the word “toilet” so she finally settled on the term, “BC,” which, to her, meant “bathroom commode.” The initials baffled the campground manager who showed the letter to some of the other campers. They did not understand either until one of them suggested the woman might be referring to a Baptist church. The owner agreed and wrote this reply:

Dear Madam,1

Thank you for your inquiry. I take pleasure in informing you that a

BC is located two miles north of our campground, and seats 250

People. My wife and I go quite regularly, but as we grow older, it

seems to be more of an effort, particularly during cold spells. If you

visit our campground, perhaps we could go with you the first time,

sit with you, and introduce you to the other folks. Ours is a friendly

community.

Sincerely yours

A humorous story, yet a fine example of what happened on the day of Pentecost long ago; and what continues to occur when people read—or misread and misunderstand—our passage from Acts even today. So let’s take a look at this passage and see what understanding, we can discover today with, of course, the Holy Spirit’s help and presence and work among and within us. Luke begins by stating the time and place and people of this special event: it was the day of Pentecost, nine o’clock in the morning, and the twelve apostles, along with one hundred and twenty other believers were gathered in a room in Jerusalem. All of these people were Jews, he tells us. The day of Pentecost, also known as the Feast of Weeks, was a Jewish festival that took place 50 days, seven weeks after Passover. Originally, it was a harvest festival, giving thanks to God for the harvest. Later, Jews also celebrated the giving of the Law, or the Torah to Moses and the Jewish people on Sinai. A Jewish tradition has it that the time from the Hebrew slaves’ departure in Egypt to the time they reached Mount Sinai was also 50 days. All of these bits of information emphasise the point that the earliest Christian Church had its origins deeply rooted in Jewish tradition and, the earliest Christians were Jews.

The next information Luke provides is a description of what happened on that day of Pentecost over two thousand years ago. He tells us: “And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting.” The phrase “suddenly from heaven,” reveal the origin of the event—God, in the presence of the Holy Spirit, enters the room where this crowd of believers are gathered. The phrase also underscores the truth that this event is a gift from God, and the word “suddenly,” highlights the fact that it is not planned or intended by the gathered crowd. No! Rather, God takes the initiative here; God comes down to the crowd and gives them the gift of the Holy Spirit. The gift of the Holy Spirit is sheer grace from God. God decides, not the people, to give the gift of the Holy Spirit.

Luke then tells us that the Spirit’s presence was revealed through “a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting.” Here again Luke emphasises the deep Jewish roots of Pentecost. Jews of faith would remember the Spirit, the Wind of God moving across the waters at the dawn of creation in Genesis chapter two. The crowd may also have remembered God’s creation of the first human being, breathing into them the breath of life. In the biblical languages, both in the Greek and the Hebrew, the word for Spirit can also mean wind, breath, and to breathe. The phrase “filled the entire house,” fits in well with what Peter says later when he quotes the passage from Joel two, telling of the promise that the Spirit will be poured out “upon all flesh.” God desires all people to enjoy the presence of the Holy Spirit working in and through them. The prophecy, along with the Pentecost coming of the Spirit, seems to lift up the universal gift of God’s Spirit to everyone, regardless of social, racial, ethnic background, age or gender. However, I think this raises a kind of “fly in the ointment” question here. Later, in verse 13 of our passage, we learn of sceptics, cynics, and critics who, Luke says, “sneered and said, “They are filled with new wine.” What are we to make of the “new wine” accusation? Does this mean those making this charge against the Spirit-filled crowd were not given the same gift of the Holy Spirit? I don’t know, and Luke does not give us a clear yes or no to that question. The implication seems to lean in the direction of the sceptics, cynics and critics receiving the gift of the Holy Spirit. If they had received the Spirit like the others, why would they make the accusation that the crowd was drunk? On the other hand, why did those making the accusation not receive the Holy Spirit? I do not think we can answer these questions definitively over two thousand years after the event. Perhaps we shall find our answers in heaven. Or maybe the answer comes from the Jewish rabbinic tradition itself.

There is a wonderful Hasidic tale in which the rabbi asks his student, “Where is the Spirit of God?” And the student answers with a biblical phrase, “…the whole universe resounds with his glory.”

And the rabbi says, “No.”

“What do you mean, no?” the student asks.

“God is where you let God come in,” says the rabbi. “And the Holy Spirit is the power that ushers God into our lives.”2 Maybe it takes longer for the Holy Spirit to usher God into the lives of sceptics, cynics and critics. Perhaps the following familiar quote makes sense in this context: “Please be patient with me, God isn’t finished with me yet!”

Back to our passage, Luke goes on to describe the Spirit’s presence as: “Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them.” The image of “tongues, as of fire,” once again underscores the deep Jewish roots of Pentecost. For Jews, God had been present in the burning bush, speaking to Moses and giving him the call and commission to go back to Egypt and lead the Hebrew people out of slavery. God also revealed God’s Self during the wilderness wanderings as a “pillar of fire.” The Jews would also remember one of their favourite prophets, Elijah, being taken up into heaven in a fiery chariot. So, once again, Luke emphasises here at Pentecost the deep Jewish roots of fire symbolizing God’s presence. Even today, on occasion, we speak of Holy Spirit filled people as “warm-hearted,” or “filled with fiery passion,” or even, “on fire for the Lord.” The work of the Holy Spirit in and through us, I believe, is to give us the “warm-hearted” gifts and fruit such as: kindness, love, gentleness, self control, the passionate commitment for loving and serving our God and our neighbour.

Along with the Spirit’s presence in the form of fire, Luke says is tongues, that is, the gift of language and communication, which deepens our understanding. The majority of biblical scholars today interpret this reference to speaking in “other languages” as foreign languages, not glossolalia—i.e. the phenomenon of ecstatic speaking with tongues. Perhaps the language is such that it is inclusive of both the ability to speak and understand foreign languages as well as speak with ecstatic tongues and interpret them. I think what Luke is lifting up here is the emphasis on the role of the Holy Spirit as the Communications Expert par excellence. The Holy Spirit works in and through us to teach us, and, as Luther put it “calls, gathers, enlightens and sanctifies” us. In other words, the Holy Spirit is always hard at work to make God and God’s will known, clear, and understood among us. The Spirit brings light to our darkness so we can see, understand and act on the truth that God reveals. Namely, as Peter put it in his sermon on that day of Pentecost long ago: “everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved.” Amen. Come, Holy Spirit!

1 Cited from: David E. Leininger, Lectionary Tales For The Pulpit: Series VI Cycle B (Lima, OH: CSS Publishing Co., Inc., 2008), p. 158.

2 Cited by Susan Andrews from <www.goodpreacher.com/blog>, found at: <www.deaconsil.com/>.

7 Easter Yr B, 24/05/2009

Acts 1:15-17, 21-26

Rev. Garth Wehrfritz-Hanson

Pastor of Grace Lutheran Church, &

Chaplain of The Good Samaritan Society’s

South Ridge Village, Medicine Hat, Alberta

“The ministry of ordinary people”

John drove in a leisurely fashion to the Amtrak station. The twins were on the spring break and were coming in on the 3 o’clock train. He needed time alone to reflect on all that had happened in the past several weeks. Karenza, his spouse, had finished seminary at the end of the fall semester. The spring had been filled with opportunities to interview for parish pastorates. It had been a learning experience for them both.

He had been stunned by some of the bigotry and subtle discrimination his wife had encountered as she offered her talents to the Lord through the church. They would usually debrief after her interviews, sipping cups of hot tea, and discussing what it meant to be called in the face of those other disciples who thought women ought not be pastors. He had never doubted Karenza’s gifts for ministry; he was beginning to doubt the church’s ability to utilize them.

The twins greeted him at the station with enthusiastic stories about campus life. Eric looked at his dad thoughtfully, “How is the whole thing going for Mom now? She beat us to graduation by six months.”

John filled them in on all but his wife’s tears. They were silent for a while until Linda said, “It’s God’s church and she’ll be chosen for something. I know it.” Her firm optimism somehow eased the strain.

The next Sunday they all attended a church where Karenza preached as part of the calling process in that parish. During the coffee break before the meeting to vote on her, Linda struck up a conversation with a man in the coffee line. He sat down with her at a nearby table as they munched cookies.

“You’re a visitor here. We’re about to actually consider a woman for our pastor. I have a hard time with that. After all the Bible says women should be silent.”

Linda looked at him and nodded, “Yes, for a particular time and place that was true. But I understand when we are baptized it means we are all together in this. All the gifts God gives ought to be used, whether they belong to women or men. Jesus said in one of his parables that one of the people who got gold was afraid and hid it in the ground. I think doing ministry means we do not hide our gifts.”

The man looked at her and nodded thoughtfully. Then someone struck a glass with a fork and announced that the meeting was to begin. John and the twins went home to await the news from Karenza.

Two hours later she joined them on the backyard terrace, her face filled with joy. “I’ve been chosen to be their new pastor. The chairperson of the committee was not initially in favour of this but he stood up and talked about someone who visited this morning and he said it was obvious she had heard the gospel and he needed to start listening.”1

In today’s first lesson from Acts, we also learn about a choosing and call process to serve Christ among that first generation of Christians. Like the story of Karenza, we learn that God calls and chooses people whom at first, others may not necessarily have chosen. It is the grace and guidance of God at work in the lives of people that determines the end result of any choice in the call process—at least that is what we hope and believe is true.

An important lesson we learn from this story in Acts today is that Christ has given his first followers a ministry in the meantime, that is, in the between time. Today’s story takes place in the meantime, or between time after Christ’s ascension into heaven and before the day of Pentecost. We, too, live in the meantime, in the between time. And like those first-generation followers of Jesus, Christ has also given us a ministry in the meantime, the time in between. We live in the meantime, the between time after the day of Pentecost and the receiving of the Holy Spirit, and before Christ’s second coming. Do we simply do nothing and wait for Jesus to come for us today? No! We continue to do the ministry he has given us, while we wait for his coming again.

Even in the short between time of the first-generation Christians, they were not content to do nothing. Rather, they were directed to serve Christ by choosing another apostle to succeed Judas. The choosing of a twelfth apostle is consistent with what Jesus had promised earlier in Luke’s Gospel, chapter 22:28-30. In that passage, Jesus promised the twelve apostles they would have a privileged status in his future kingdom. The twelve apostles would sit on thrones and judge the twelve tribes of Israel. Therefore it was now necessary here in our passage from Acts to reorganise the sacred band of twelve apostles in fulfillment of this promise to choose and call a replacement apostle after Judas had defected and committed suicide. According to Peter, who is here taking a leadership role among the other apostles and the 120 first-generation followers of Jesus, this reorganizational process was necessary to continue the ministry of Christ and his church.

So, Peter proceeds to lay out the qualifications of a new, replacement apostle to be chosen among those 120 first-generation of Christians. The first qualification, so it seems, is that the successor of Judas must have been present with Jesus in his earthly ministry from the time of the baptism of John until the day of Jesus’ ascension into heaven. In other words, the person should not be a recent convert who had not accompanied Jesus in his earthly ministry. This qualification makes a lot of sense, because the continuing ministry of Christ on earth; if it were to be successful; had to reach people with the preaching of the Gospel. The Gospel message, of course, is Christ-centred, therefore who better to preach the Gospel than the closest friends and followers of Jesus? The first-generation apostles had an advantage over everyone else, because they were with Jesus in his day-to-day earthly ministry; they remembered what he said in his preaching and teaching; and they witnessed his miracles and signs. The apostles then were the most qualified folks to “go and tell,” to spread the Gospel to into the world.

The second qualification that Peter spells out is that the replacement apostle “must become a witness with us to his resurrection.” In other words, the resurrection was “the” single, most important Christ-event of them all. Therefore, the replacement apostle had to be an eye-witness to Christ’s resurrection. The resurrection was “the” single, most important life-changing event out of which the Christian church was born. Christ’s resurrection confirms God’s saving power over the powers of evil, sin, and death. If God works in a saving way through Christ’s resurrection for all people, by giving the promise that one day, those who believe in Christ and his resurrection; then, all people would need to hear the Good News of Christ’s resurrection. Who better to spread the Good News of Christ’s resurrection than the original, first-generation eye-witnesses to the resurrection?

Out of the 120 first-generation followers of Jesus, two people are suggested as candidates that meet the two qualifications for a replacement apostle, they are: Joseph called Barsabbas, who was also known as Justus, and Matthias. One of the fascinating things about these two followers of Jesus is that we have zero information about them, other than their names—nowhere else in the New Testament are they mentioned again.

What does this teach us? Well, I believe that it teaches us Christ can and does call ordinary people; folks who may not be that popular or famous. You don’t have to be a world famous televangelist to spread the Good News to others. Christ is able to bless the ministry of even the least among us. In fact, the least known may be the most common way in which Jesus works in the church. If we were to number the total membership of active Christians in the world today and compare that with the total number of the most famous and popular Christian leaders; I think there would be way more ordinary, unknown Christians than there would be popular, famous ones. The vast majority of Christians today are not well known and famous—rather, they are like Joseph called Barsabbas, also known as Justus, and Matthias, little, if anything is known about them. Yet, Christ chooses and calls such ordinary folks as you and me to share in his ministry equally as much as he chooses and calls the rich and famous. We ordinary folks are equally as important in Christ’s eyes as are the most popular people in the church.

So, in the meantime, the between time, it was not at first clear which of these two candidates should be chosen and called to replace Judas as an apostle. The group of those first-generation Christians then turn to the Lord in prayer to ask for guidance as to who is to replace Judas. After that, being Jews, they turn to a familiar method of casting lots to determine which of the two people is going to replace Judas. For them, God was at work even in the chance aspect of casting lots—whether it was choosing straws, rolling dice, or some other method, we do not know. What we do know is that the lot fell on Matthias, and the other apostles, along with the 120 followers of Jesus accept Matthias as the new, replacement apostle. After that, we have absolutely no information on the ministry of Matthias in the New Testament.

In the meantime, the between time, we too, like that first-generation of Jesus’ followers, need to turn to the Lord with one mind and heart and pray for guidance. Prayer, when we listen as much as speak, can and does change our hearts and minds or confirms the truth as we already know it. Prayer is our spiritual oxygen, as I’ve said on many other occasions. If this is so, then we shall want to be in constant communication with the Lord to discern his will for us both as individuals and a congregation. So, may the Lord’s will be done among us individually and as a congregation—that we, like that first-generation church may be faithful witnesses to Christ and his resurrection power. Amen.

1 Cited from: Susan K. Hedahl, “Opening The Door,” in: 56 Lectionary Stories For Preaching: Based Upon The Revised Common Lectionary Cycle B (Lima, OH: CSS Publishing Co., Inc., 1993), pp. 63-64.

5 Easter Yr B, 10/05/2009

Acts 8:26-40

Rev. Garth Wehrfritz-Hanson

Pastor of Grace Lutheran Church, &

Chaplain of The Good Samaritan Society’s

South Ridge Village, Medicine Hat, Alberta

“Philip and the Ethiopian eunuch”

Pastor Harry is a retired minister who is working as an associate pastor. He had to take an early retirement due to several health difficulties. Yet that hasn’t stopped him as one whose heart is bigger than life. He is a very gentle and consistent servant of Christ.

Pastor Harry tells of the story of Mike, a neighbour of his for many years. Mike was born into a home that never discussed items like faith, God and salvation. He was brought up in a very humanistic mindset. He could do anything on his own power without the help of anyone. In fact, the business he owned he made happen. He and Pastor Harry would always visit and discuss topics. Pastor Harry knew that if he was ever to witness to this man it had to be at the right time and in the right place.

Pastor Harry’s second love in life is wood-working. He can make anything from a prayer box for the church to a complete bedroom furniture set. He invited Mike to a woodworking group that met at Pastor Harry’s every Monday evening. About seven men gathered for wood-working, refreshments and a short time of devotions. Pastor Harry invited Mike and reluctantly Mike came. He came for seven weeks in a row and didn’t say much when it came to the time of devotions. He just sat and listened. Finally, after the 10^{th week Mike asked Pastor Harry if he would stick around and talk with him. He replied that it would be fine. Mike stayed and asked question upon question about this faith of Pastor Harry’s and this Lord that the pastor testified about. It was then that Pastor Harry shared the good news of God’s love in Christ. That night Mike became part of the Christian faith and now is involved in his local church.1}

The story reminds us that we can make a difference; Christ can place us, through the work of the Holy Spirit, in a path of someone who may be open to the Christian faith. We, like Pastor Harry in the story, can be missionaries for Christ and bear witness by sharing our faith and the Gospel message with those whom God places in our pathway of life.

In today’s first lesson from Acts chapter eight we learn of how God gives Philip a nudge by speaking to him through, an angel and then the Holy Spirit—telling what to do in order to serve Christ and the Gospel. The story brings into focus one of Luke’s favourite themes. According to Luke and Acts, the followers of Jesus were to go out and spread the Gospel and the new Christian faith from Jerusalem and Judea, out to the Gentile world, to the ends of the earth. Philip, as a faithful disciple and missionary of Jesus, does exactly that in today’s story.

I find this story of Philip quite an interesting one and also instructive in terms of Philip’s faithfulness. Prior to our first lesson, Philip had been engaged in a successful preaching and healing tour in the city of Samaria. We learn that crowds were quite impressed with Philip’s preaching and works of healing. With such success in his ministry, you’d think that Philip might want to stay on in Samaria.

However, God has other plans. Philip is told by an angel: “Get up and go toward the south to the road that goes down from Jerusalem to Gaza.” (This is a wilderness road.) Now why would Philip want to leave the comforts and successes in the city of Samaria to travel in the wilderness? What was he to do there? Nobody lives out there. Notice in our story too that the angel is not identified by name, nor described by Luke. All there is for Philip to go on is a simple command. “Get up and go…” Now, I wonder, if you and I were Philip, would we believe or listen to this angel? Wouldn’t we want to continue with the satisfying ministry among the crowds of Samaria? Why would we want to go into nowhere-land, a desolate wilderness with next to no people? Furthermore, our life could be in danger there, that’s where the criminal element hangs out—they could rob us, beat us up, and leave us die alone out in the desert heat. Yet, the amazing thing is that Philip listens and obeys the angel’s command. He doesn’t seem to doubt or argue with the angel. Nor does he run away in the opposite direction, like old Jonah did. No. Rather, he listens and believes and acts upon his beliefs. Luke says: “So he got up and went.” Was he disappointed because he couldn’t stay on at Samaria? We don’t know. Did he inwardly wrestle with and doubt the angel’s command? We don’t know that either. All Luke says is: “So he got up and went.” Now that is an act of faith on Philip’s part. Faith that can inspire us to listen to, believe, and do the right thing—even when that “right thing” is difficult for us and less attractive than what we might be doing right now.

As the story continues, Luke describes a Gentile man, a foreigner of considerable status. Luke tells us this fellow was “an Ethiopian.” He goes on to speak of his sexual, social and political status, saying that he was a “eunuch, a court official of the Candace, queen of the Ethiopians, in charge of her entire treasury.” In ancient times, eunuchs may have been regarded as trustworthy servants of royal courts, not posing as sexually threatening to the king’s harem. The words “the Candace,” are a title of the Ethiopian queen. As “court official” and “in charge of (the queen’s) entire treasury,” this chap likely had plenty of political and financial smarts—a minister of both external affairs and finance. He was a trustworthy advisor to the queen.

Luke then states the purpose of the Ethiopian eunuch’s visit to Jerusalem, and tells us what his reading material was while travelling in his chariot back to his homeland. “He had come to Jerusalem to worship and was returning home; seated in his chariot, he was reading the prophet Isaiah.” In other words, he was a Gentile who had a deep, spiritual desire to worship the One True God—elsewhere in Acts, Luke calls such Gentiles “God-fearers.” The “God-fearers” believed in the One True God, but did not necessarily keep the Torah dietary laws or the Jewish requirement of male circumcision. For the Ethiopian eunuch to travel so far a distance to worship God is a clue that he was very serious about his devotion to God.

The fact that he was reading from the prophet Isaiah tells us that this chap was quite literate: perhaps he was fluent in the Hebrew, Aramaic and Greek languages, in addition to his own mother tongue. God’s prevenient grace had been at work in the Ethiopian eunuch—sending him to Jerusalem, placing the prophet Isaiah’s work in his hands, giving him a hunger and thirst for biblical truth, and a deep desire to draw into closer communion with God. Long before we humans realise it, God’s prevenient grace is at work to lead us to him.

Enter into the story once again Philip. Now, we’re told, it is the Holy Spirit speaking to Philip and giving him the following command: “Go over to this chariot and join it.” Once again Philip listens and acts in faith. Upon hearing the Ethiopian eunuch reading Isaiah out loud, Philip asks him a question that opens the door for him to witness to this Gentile. The question may have been placed on Philip’s lips by the Holy Spirit: “Do you understand what you are reading?” The Ethiopian eunuch gives Philip an honest answer, along with an open door invitation, saying: “How can I, unless someone guides me.” Luke says he actually invited Philip to come and sit beside him and teach him. Perhaps the Ethiopian had been waiting to speak with someone like Philip for a long time. What we do know is that he had an open heart and mind for God’s Word. The time was ripe for sowing the seed of God’s Good News in his heart and mind. Such opportunities are a God-given grace event—they are what we would call Kairos moments, teaching moments, right times to bear faithful witness. Philip is here a wonderful role model evangelist and missionary for us to learn from. He unpacks the passage from Isaiah 53:7-8, interpreting the passage as a reference to Jesus, and then goes on to preach to the Ethiopian the good news about Jesus. Philip’s faithfulness here is a fulfillment of Christ’s command to go and preach the Good News. The message Philip preaches touches the heart and mind of the Ethiopian eunuch and he is baptized by Philip into the Christian faith. Indeed, tradition has it that this newly baptized disciple of Jesus went home to Ethiopia and preached the Gospel to his people.

Does this missionary and evangelistic story inspire you? If so, then maybe you could go out and share the story with some non-Christian that you might know. May Philip’s example of witnessing inspire us to go and tell the Gospel story.

1 Cited from: Emphasis Vol. 24, No. 1, May-June 1994 (Lima, OH: CSS Publishing Co., Inc.), p. 13.

Palm/Passion Sunday Yr B, 5/04/2009

Mk 11:1-11

Rev. Garth Wehrfritz-Hanson

Pastor of Grace Lutheran Church, &

Chaplain of The Good Samaritan Society’s

South Ridge Village, Medicine Hat, Alberta

“The donkey owner’s story-a narrative sermon”

Hello everyone, or as we say in the Promised Land, shalom! I want you to put your imagination to work today. Imagine that you have travelled in a time machine back to the first Palm Sunday. My name is Eli ben Judah. The Gospels do not mention me by name. I’m the owner of that donkey colt Jesus road into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday. I’ll be your host and tour guide. Here is my story.

I remember it well, the day I met Jesus. What a day that was! He came to my stable at Bethphage, near Jerusalem, several weeks before Palm Sunday. The day started out with its usual routines, as any other day. You know: get up at four, dress, pray the morning prayer thanking God for another day, the gift of life, and every other blessing, start the fire, fry some fish, warm up the bread, give thanks to the LORD for our food, eat breakfast, go out into the stable to feed and water the donkeys, and open the stable doors for business—hoping and praying for customers to rent my donkeys.

A few minutes after I opened the stable doors, along came Jesus. I still remember seeing him walking towards me. I’ve never met a person like him before. He walked with dignity and confidence. His body and face were so radiant that I was almost blinded by such an intense light. His light poured into me, as if it were healing and cleansing me completely. The light seemed to be burning away all that was hurtful and destructive in me. His eyes were so loving and penetrating—I felt he could see right into my whole being and that he knew everything about me. He knew all of the details of my life, from birth right up to the present. I thought of our ancestor Moses, before the burning bush, and Elijah, when God spoke to him with the sound of sheer silence. The holiness of Jesus’ presence before me was so intense that I fell to my knees and lowered my face to the dust. Who was I, a humble, ordinary donkey owner to be worthy enough to be in the presence of Jesus?

Even though I had never met him before, I knew, as he came closer, that he was the most perfect, holy person that I’d ever encountered in my life. Like Moses after the burning bush, and Elijah after hearing God’s still small voice, I was never the same again. The day I met Jesus, my whole life has changed. Before that time, I went to synagogue on the festival days, and prayed the daily prayers without expecting much from the LORD. Life was pretty humdrum, and I liked it that way. After that day everything changed. Since then, I have found a new purpose for living. Now I want to tell everyone about Jesus and follow his way and his teachings.

Back to that day, when I was down on my knees, face to the earth, Jesus spoke. He called me by my name, and said: “Shalom, Eli ben Judah, donkey owner. Please rise, I have something to ask of you.”

So, I jumped up on my feet and was full of curiosity, wondering what he wanted from me. Before I was able to speak he addressed me again, saying: “I am going to need your help in a few weeks’ time. I’ll be entering Jerusalem then, and I need one of your colt donkeys—they have to be strong enough for me to sit on and ride into the city. I shall do this in fulfillment of the prophecy of Zechariah 9:9: “Rejoice greatly, O daughter Zion! Shout aloud, O daughter Jerusalem! Lo, your king comes to you; triumphant and victorious is he, humble and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.” Listen up now Eli, here’s what will happen. Two of my disciples, James and John, will come here and untie the colt standing by your door. You and a few of your neighbours will see them, and will ask the following question: “What are you doing, untying the colt?” James and John will provide you with this password answer: ‘The Lord needs it and will send it back here immediately.’ Do you think you can remember all of that?”

I was, at first breathless, so surprised, I didn’t know what to say. The prophecy from Zechariah finally sunk in, I realised it was referring to the Messiah. Could this Jesus be our Messiah? After a few moments of silence to collect my thoughts, I blurted out: “You mean to say that you’re, um, the Messiah?!” I asked with excitement and expectation.

Jesus answered with certainty in his voice, “I am he.” Then he commanded me to keep it a secret, saying: “Don’t you dare tell a soul till after my crucifixion and resurrection—then you can go out and tell the whole world.”

Rather confused I asked him: “What do you mean crucifixion and resurrection? You aren’t going to die like a criminal and then rise from death. I mean, if you’re the Messiah and all, aren’t you supposed to deliver us Jews from the tyranny of the Roman occupation and govern our nation with perfect peace and justice?”

Jesus answered me, “No Eli, that’s not my destiny. I’m the Messiah not only of the Jewish people, but of all nations and peoples. My destiny, in fulfillment of our scriptures, is to suffer and die on the cross to atone, once and for all, for the sins of humankind. Three days later God our heavenly Father shall raise me from the dead. Do you believe me?”

I struggled to understand these hard and sorrowful words, and then replied, “Lord, I believe, help my unbelief. Please stay with me for lunch, you can tell me more.”

However, Jesus told me, “No, Eli, I must keep going to the next village, and the next, and the next after that. I’ve got plenty of work to do before I enter Jerusalem in a few weeks. Remember; keep this conversation a secret until after my crucifixion and resurrection. Don’t forget what I told you about James and John. Shalom Eli, see you in a few weeks.”

What a day! me, Eli ben Judah of all people, a humble donkey owner, meeting the Messiah! I believed Jesus, and yet, I struggled with what I had been taught by the rabbis. How could Jesus be the Messiah riding on a donkey? How could he be a suffering Messiah? Would God our Father really raise him from the dead three days after his crucifixion? Would his death on a cross truly atone for my sins and your sins, and everyone else’s sins, once and for all time? Questions, questions, questions. Yet, Jesus’ presence was so holy, so pure, so enlightening. How could I keep such an encounter with the Messiah to myself? I had to tell everyone, I couldn’t help it! So, that’s what I did. I told every single person in our village: “I’ve met the Messiah, his name is Jesus!” Most of them didn’t believe me, they thought I ate too many nuts and became one. J

The days and weeks passed. Finally the day came. True to Jesus’ words, James and John showed up when I was speaking with a few neighbours outside the house. They untied the colt. Folks asked them what they were doing and they provided the password answer—exactly as Jesus had planned it all. The neighbours who were with me then realised that I had been telling the truth. So, all of us followed along with James and John, because we love parades and this one was very special. Jesus our Messiah entered triumphantly, riding on a colt donkey with the crowd cheering him on, crying, “Hosanna!” which means “save us, save us soon.” Hosanna is a shout of praise, as well as a plea for help. We praised our Messiah Jesus, shared fully in the joy, waving our palm branches as he rode that little donkey, the animal symbolizing humility and peace—and that day shall come when he rules us all in perfect peace.

Well, that’s my story folks. You can time travel back now to Grace Lutheran Church in Medicine Hat. Go in Christ’s peace. And, like me, tell everyone you meet the Good News of Jesus our Messiah. Shalom! Amen.