sermon

Pastor Paul E. Hoffman

The Second Sunday after Epiphany 
Texts: Isaiah 49:1-7, Psalm 40:1-11, 1 Corinthians 1:1-9, and John 1:29-42

Beloved in Christ, grace and peace to you in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

What are you looking for?

It is a common occurrence  in our Seattle home for me to be standing in front of the refrigerator with the door open and my wife to be asking, “What are you looking for?”

More often than not, my response will be something like, “I’m not sure, but I’ll know it when I see it.”

It is not unusual for this play to have a second act, when the fridge has been frustratingly slammed shut and I find myself now standing in front of the pantry.

I don’t think this is an uncommon scenario. Whether it’s played out grazing in the kitchen, clicking through channels and live streams on TV, surfing on the Internet, scrolling through FaceBook or other social media, we seem to be always on the prowl. At least I do. I am looking for something.  I’m not sure what.

Jesus wastes no time as his ministry begins in John’s Gospel to zero in.  What are you looking for? As a matter of fact, these are the first words he speaks in John’s account. Christ wants to know our hunger. Christ longs to slake our thirsts. Christ is eternally interested in us. Beloved ones: what are you looking for?

Flummoxed, as we might be, the disciples answer Jesus’ question with a question. And at first, “where are you staying?” might seem shallow, even a sort of stalling tactic, perhaps. But they are not asking for a street address and zip code, but rather a declaration of identity. Who ARE you, Jesus? What makes you tick? If I choose to lay down the remote, or close the refrigerator door, or stop googling through endless pages, what might I expect to find in YOU?

Come and see. What are you looking for? Come and see

There can be no mistaking that John is laying the foundation in this opening chapter that sets up his Gospel as the story of the New Creation. From “in the beginning was the Word” in the sweeping prologue to this seven-day intro to the spirit blowing over the wedding waters about to become wine as chapter 2 opens, Jesus is identified as the one who will make all things new. By Gospel’s end, and in the most unexpected means, by his own crucifixion, he will seal it, just as the first creation was sealed: “It is finished.”

Into our Gospel journey, this path through noise and silence, this way of daily give and take, Jesus invites those who are looking. “Come and see” Jesus says to the first ones gathered around him, and he says it to us in our looking.  Here.  Today. “Come and see.”

Come and see. Come and taste new wine, join the ranks of those born again, quench your thirst with living water, catch a glimpse and promise of one you love be raised from the stench of the grave, know that this Lamb of God is the one, the only one, who can truly, eternally satisfy you, and goes ahead to prepare a place for you.

But know also that the winding path we make with Jesus, with those who also make the pilgrimage and sojourn by his side, will end up at the foot of the cross.  Even today – even this very day! – you will come to the foot of the cross to feast on a body that is broken, a cup that is poured out. For it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

From the get-go, Jesus knew that this would be a journey we could never make alone. And so, by the grace of God we are washed together in the same waters, fed and nourished on the same loaf, drinking from the one cup. Look around you. These are the ones with whom Christ calls each of us to be a light to the nations. These are the ones Christ calls each of us to work tirelessly with for peace and justice for every single child God has created.

It is too light a thing that we would do this for ourselves only. We are called to work together to bring this love story to the ends of the earth. It is mighty, holy work, and the Divine, Eternal Lover will sustain us every step of our way into the New Creation.

In the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Pastor Paul E. Hoffman

The Baptism of Our Lord, Year A
Texts: Isaiah 42:1-9, Psalm 29, Acts 10:34-43, Matthew 3:13-17 

Beloved in Christ, grace and peace to you in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Luther so beautifully teaches us, baptism is not water only, but water used according to God’s command, and connected with God’s Word

And with equal beauty and power, Matthew sets out the story of Jesus’ life lived in love for others with that connection of water and Word, in the River Jordan, at the hand of John.

Do you see this powerful intersection of those immeasurable gifts in this story? Water and Word. As Jesus come UP from the water, the Word comes down from heaven.

It is not an unusual pair for our Creator to pull from the Goldy toolbox…

Crashing waters/paired with the thundering Word at Creation
Flooding waters/paired with Noah’s obedience to the Word
Parting waters/paired with the Word at the parting Red Sea
The waters of birth, bringing the Living Word into our own flesh
Cleansing waters/paired with the Word at the Jordan
Purifying waters at the Word of Christ turned to life-giving wine
Healing water, with the spoken word of Jesus, saying to
the Samaritan woman, “I see you…”
By no means the last example, saving waters flowing from the
pierced side of the Crucified, Incarnate Word.

Wasn’t it Coleridge who said,
Water, water everywhere, nor any drop to drink?

And therein lies our problem. There is water everywhere in our sacred Scriptures. There is likewise never a paucity of the Word. With beauty and power our forebears, St. Matthew, Luther, and a host of saints more recent implore us to dive in to this soothing grace of God in Christ for us. And yet we choose instead that which does not satisfy. The very next line in The Rime of the Ancient Mariner summarizes our self-inflicted plight: The very deep did rot, O Christ/that ever this should be.

Just so, our Creator’s heart breaks as we turn away from these precious, life-giving gifts: Water and Word. Water and Word. Water and Word.

It is not for his own washing and regeneration that Christ comes John at the Jordan. Maximus of Turin, preaching in the 5th Century makes that clear for us. Listen to what he says:
It was not so that Jesus would be made holy by the water, but that the water by Jesus would be made holy.

When those cleansing waters closed around the one foretold, they are not doing so to get Jesus all shined up and ready for his own human walk of daily dying and rising. They are instead to join the waters of the world with the Word and begin the initiation of God’s New Creation. This baptism of his is the beginning of our baptismal hope.

All water for all time. The water running over the body of Jesus, then down the Jordan, into the ocean, evaporated back up into the clouds, watering the earth, flowing in the oceans, creeks, rivers, and sounds. And eventually out of our faucets and quenching, washing us. The water in which we are immersed is immersed with Jesus. The water with which you were sprinkled just today, is water that was sprinkled from John’s hand over the head, the hands, the feet of Jesus. It is holy water. Holy, holy water.

In nothing less than an act of pure, unmitigated, love and grace, God surrounds us with that holy, holy water as a daily reminder. 60% of our bodies – water. 71% of our bodies – water. 85% of a bottle of wine – water. We come into this life in a rush of water, and loving, tender hands wash us with it at our life’s end.

Because of Jesus’ immersion, not water only, but water connected with God’s Word follows us everywhere. Even when our own following fumbles, or flounders or just plain fails. No richer grace than our God’s so mercifully tends us.

On our worst days, when we are as a broken reed, God will not break us. When the wick is burning dimly, God will water us anew, rather than snuff us out.

The water. And the Word. The same water and Word who created the heavens and stretched them out, who spread out the earth and what comes from him. That same water, that same Word is with us. Is with you. Given for you. Shed for you. Rejoice and be glad. Thanks be to God.

In the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

God calls us to be open to the world before us and the ways that God reaches out to teach, even through people we might not expect.

Vicar Mollie Hamre
Epiphany of Our Lord, Year A
Texts: Matthew 2:1-12

Beloved in Christ, grace and peace to you in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Learning about other religions has greatly impacted my faith life. 

In my undergrad, I was involved in Campus Ministry as Co-President for an Interfaith group. The Interfaith Group encouraged discussion and questions about different denominations, religions, and beliefs. Through that, I became close friends with one of my peers from India, whose background is Hinduism and Buddhism. 

I recall one evening over finals week stopping by the Chapel and I saw her sitting in the sanctuary praying. She looked up, waved and I walked over to ask her what she was doing there. She told me that her mother had encouraged her to go pray to God for peace and encouragement over her difficult finals week. I wished her good luck, grabbed what I needed from the office, and left.

But internally, I was bothered by this interaction. 

I was confused at how she could go and pray in the Chapel when she was not a Christian. I found myself irritated that in all the learning and preparation I was doing for Seminary there was no way she could understand the Triune God that was a part of that space for me. And truthfully, I was jealous that someone who, I assume did not know my religion, felt peace in that space. The same space that I, at times, struggled to find peace in. 

But those differences in religion and context is where God appears in the Gospel today. 

We hear the familiar story of the magi following the star to seek out “the child who has been born king of the Jews.” Children’s stories deem the Magi as the “three kings” because three items are brought to Jesus: gold, frankincense, and myrrh. 

In the Gospel of Matthew, the writer does not note the number of people or even if they were kings, just that more than one person had traveled a great distance from the East. These “wise men,” being priests and astrologers from a different community, had looked into the night sky and noticed something had changed. That whatever had taken place deserved their attention and that is all it took for them to journey to where Jesus was. Their travels lead them to seek out others, to ask questions, and learn about the world around them. This culture, religion, and background they were visiting was not their own, yet they entered into it with their own tradition in one hand and openness to the other. 

And then enters King Herod.

Whose reaction to the news of Jesus’s birth is drastically different from the wise men. Instead of openness, Herod quickly panics and closes off. He calculates his loss and begins to act out of fear for his power. The coming of another “king” is bad news for Herod who has decided that his absolute rule is about to be challenged. In response, he lies to the wise men and waits for word of where Jesus is born. The wise men are curious and receptive while Herod disregards and rejects.

Now, Herod’s place of power is not the most relatable position for us today. 

As we know, King Herod’s goal was to keep his power, which relied on the Roman Empire being in charge. Obviously, his motivations are focused on what is a threat to Rome and his rule. Herod’s false statement about wanting to pay homage to Jesus does not come from a place of genuine worship, but of violence, power, and manipulation. But for the Magi, who place themselves in the story, this does not appear to phase them. They decide to ignore Herod’s request to report back, without religious motive and reason. They choose peace and kindness–is that not what we call the work of God?

And if this work appears in the Magi, people from a whole different religion, what about the other ways God appears?

What about the times that it is easier to close oneself off to seeing God in the world instead of being open? The times judging at face value is chosen instead of welcoming. Fear is chosen instead of kindness and curiosity? See, something that I learned from my friends of different religions was that learning about their practices did not take away from mine. 

They did not change what it means for my trust in God or what it means for me to be a Child of God. My friend who I found in the Chapel, was exactly that: my friend. She taught me about meditation, breathing, and patience. I was challenged to think about my beliefs and why they are important. All things I would have missed if I had decided to push her away and see her as a threat. 

We are reminded today that it is not just Christians that are on a journey to seek out God, but God comes to us everywhere. 

God comes through unfamiliar faces, cultures, and sometimes even other religions, giving us ways to connect with and understand one another. To engage conversations that could cause tension, but to tell us that it is that tension we are to navigate together. Who are we to decide the ways that God works and appears through others? 

I say this knowing that our world is not a melting pot either.

There are differences, disagreements, and important distinctions, but when creation is cared for, the neighbor is loved and justice is found, this diversity is not a hazard. What if instead it was a way that God gives us different means to seek truth together? What if God reaches out with grace in different forms? This can be a challenge to consider, especially when we live in a world that would rather push away than welcome. But this welcoming encourages us to grow, to seek new ideas, and to explore where God is found. For our Magi friends, this kind of welcoming can be a life changing event, even for the coming of Our Savior.

In the name of the Father, and of the ☩ Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

We celebrate the birth of Jesus each year to remember that Jesus, God with us, came into the world as we all do, giving us purpose and a future.

Vicar Mollie Hamre
The Nativity of Our Lord, Advent A
Texts: Isaiah 52:7-10 and John 1:1-14

Beloved in Christ, grace and peace to you in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

There’s a giant clock in New York City that can be found counting down.

It is found on East 14th Street with one word beside it that reads “DEADLINE.” This clock is not for the New Year, but one that counts down the critical time window to reach zero emissions in order to limit the long-term damages of climate change. People walk by this clock everyday and today it reads 6 years, 209 days, 1 hour, 3 minutes, and so many seconds.

I say this because that clock is something I think about a lot.

And as that clock enters my mind, I want to know. What difference does it make today? What difference does the coming of God today mean to us when we think about that clock? How does God tell us that we can live in God’s reign when our world fights change that is needed?

Especially on the backdrop of a world that God proclaims to have come and still resides in. It leaves me feeling anxious and isolated. It leaves me feeling vulnerable and wanting to push away those problems.

But I also think that when we open up ourselves, that it leads us to God and to truly think about how God comes to us today.

John tells us, “The world came into being through God, yet the world did not know God.”

Jesus, God with us, comes in the form of a human, like us. Not in an epic entrance from a superhero movie, but from a remarkable, yet ordinary woman who existed in a time of Empire rule. A human born in the stables, as a refugee, and into a world that cries for help, just as ours does.

And Jesus, God with us, enters directly into that world, in the hardship and begins to walk among the people. Not noticeable, but also not fully under the radar either, to bring the Word and light to people. Stirring up questions about what the world could be. Accompanying people in discovering grace and truth in the world. And as soon as people began to implement that grace and truth in their lives transformation happened.

But this is not a God only transformation.

The Gospel goes on to say that as God takes on human flesh to be within the world, that there are others part of this light too. Those called to witness to live and proclaim the light. That is you and me, testifying the way God calls for justice, the healing of creation and bringing God’s reign to the world.

We are called to be witnesses and proclaimers of God’s light. And we are told today that this same light that was in the prophet John is inside of you and me, alive with passion and hope. Just as it is in your neighbor. And just as it is in strangers you do not know showing life, a reflection of God’s presence, and announcing hope to a world that would rather dismiss than embrace transformation.

This does not sweep away anxieties, it does not take away the pain. It does not suddenly fix climate change. And even worse, it asks that we are vulnerable.

But it is the key for the Clock in New York City.

Occasionally the numbers on the clock changes from the “DEADLINE” count down to a second set of numbers. This instead is a percentage that reads “Lifeline” indicating the amount of energy from renewable sources in the world. And truthfully, it is not much at the moment. It feels insignificant, easy to pass over, and almost not worth our time.

But to God, it is a little piece of light amidst a daunting countdown. A light to witness and testify. A flicker of hope, challenging that the future could be so much more, that our world can be a better place.

And when we see those pieces of light, that is when God appears.

This light tells us each year that Jesus, God with us, came into the world, as we all do, with a purpose, and a future, that God walks within it. Telling us we are not alone. And daring us to hope for the kind world that the people from Isaiah celebrate as the messenger brings good news. The world that the Psalm proclaims as God judges the world with righteousness and equity. We celebrate the birth of Jesus each year because it reminds us that God is active in our world and continues to be, even when we do not see God.

This is the little light that comes to us today.

The light that tells us and pushes us to work towards good in the world. Jesus, God with us, comes to experience the pain that is within life. To be vulnerable. To experience the fear and doubt that plague us. And to tell us that even when we are amidst the shadows, there is a light that shines through.
This is the light that brings transformation.

A light that tells us our world can grow with renewable energy. A light that tells us we can have a future where people are no longer in the cold. Where all people are welcomed and loved, no strings attached. A light that listens to the voice of the oppressed and uplifts those in need.

The birth of Jesus makes a difference to the Clock in New York City because we need to know that we can make a difference. And when we are isolated and anxious, we are reminded, through one another, that God continues to appear. That God continues to call us each and every day to seek out ways to emulate Christ. And to know that we can truly have a hope for a future because the “word” that we grow in together is the same that has taken on flesh and continues to live among us. Showing ways to work together and to have hope that a brighter future lies ahead.

In the name of the Father, and of the ☩ Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Jesus and John come to us today saying that the advent of God’s reign is here, but John questions alongside us, about what we assume God’s reign to be.

Vicar Mollie Hamre
Third Sunday of Advent, Year A
Texts: Isaiah 35:1-10, Psalm 146:5-10, James 5:7-10, Matthew 11:2-11

Beloved in Christ, grace and peace to you in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

The season of Advent can sometimes feel deceptive.

When expectations of Hallmark movie moments, snow falling peacefully, and always feeling joyful, are replaced with grieving, change, and struggles, it is hard to feel convinced it is the most wonderful time of the year. This season includes time processing the challenges of the past year, mourning the loss of empty seats at the table, and occasionally, not wanting to hear another Christmas song on the radio telling one to feel happy. Joy, peace, hope, and love? Not so much. Expectations for the holiday season are not always what we want them to be. Today Jesus, God with us, comes and tells us that is okay. Advent is not about reaching expectations or criteria, but embracing one another and what comes to us unexpectedly.

In the Gospel today, we learn that our expectations are not the only ones challenged.

John asks Jesus “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?” For John, who is in prison, one can not help but wonder if he is having second thoughts. I would be too. Our first reading from Isaiah would have been John’s expectations for the coming of God, but John’s question signals a disconnect between the expectation set by Isaiah and what John was expecting from Jesus, God with us.

Is this what God’s triumphant coming is supposed to look like? One where people are still suffering and God not yet wiped away all evil? Is this the advent of the Messiah that we are supposed to celebrate?

What do you think John expected?

Isaiah describes all of the miraculous ways God will impact the world. People in Jesus’s day knew this passage that describes the coming God. A coming that will transform creation and all will be at peace. No traveler, not even fools, will go astray and the world will thrive and rejoice. The imagery that Isaiah uses is pretty clear–when God comes the world transforms. People flourish. The land blossoms. The dead are raised.

Just not in the way that one would expect, Jesus says.

In recognizing John’s questions, Jesus chooses to turn to John. John, the one who we heard about last week: outspoken, dressed in “camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, munching on locusts and wild honey. Not necessarily the champion prophet one might be expecting. This guy is the messenger of the Messiah? The one challenging authorities and causing trouble? Calling people to repent and asking people to leave their comfort zones?

Jesus poses the question back “What then did you go out to see?” A reed shaken by the wind? A person that bends and blows around to seek popularity? Certainly not someone dressed in soft robes or living in a palace. John, might not be what you expect, but God works within all people just as they come. Jesus, God with us, challenges their expectations.

So what does this mean for us in the season of Advent?

Jesus’s answer to John’s question is not yes or no, but instead encouragement to John’s disciples to describe what they hear and see. People receiving sight, being cured of diseases, and hearing good news. God’s work is happening and in motion.

But, it is hard to not be skeptical about this coming, even the people in Jesus’s time were uncertain. Advent asks us to embrace the coming of Jesus and what it means for the world. But there are still people suffering in the world. There is still violence. There is still sickness. Isn’t it rather bold to hope that we have the world Isaiah and Jesus proclaim? And amidst all of that, we are still trying to seek out the hope that they speak of.

And Jesus says “hold on to that hope, let’s take a look.”

People one by one are finding healing in therapy, hospitals, and mending broken relationships. Those that have died are being raised and remembered each time when we share a meal together. People are blessed, by each other, and between each other. Although slowly, there is healing happening within communities. This might not be in the way you were expecting, but Jesus’s words are there. Do you see what is happening within these people?

We see God strengthening weak hands to hold each other. God’s presence in understanding one another so that we can hear the voices of those who are oppressed. Harsh winter storms watering the ground for growth in the future. Jesus is not talking about a great moment where the world is transformed in a single sweep, but Jesus instead says, come here and look around. These things that are happening Isaiah, what if we chose to hope and trust in the forms they take today?

Trust in a hope that lifts up one another.

Hope that trusts God is continuing to work within creation in whatever form it comes. These ways that we see God’s healing in the world does not require a Christmas movie storyline. It does not have set criteria for the way that we have to feel during the season of Advent. This season asks us, as a community, to hold hope together. Sometimes it may feel against the odds, but nonetheless hope the Triune God continues to renew us, each year. Working within us to bring God’s advent to the world.

There are no set expectations for how the season of Advent should feel. The coming of God is here, and you are already a part of it–however you may come and Jesus welcomes you. Questions, feelings, and all.

In the name of the Father, and of the ☩ Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Jesus gives us bread that endures for eternal life, what are we doing with it to bring God’s reign?

Vicar Mollie Hamre
Day of Thanksgiving, Year C
Texts: Deuteronomy 26:1-11, John 6:25-35

Beloved in Christ, grace and peace to you in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

“What must we do to perform the works of God?” 

This is the question Jesus is asked by a large group in the Gospel today after feeding all 5,000 of them earlier in the chapter. It is asked amidst a series of questions to Jesus as the crowd works to decipher the difference between perishing bread and the kind of bread that gives eternal life. This crowd, who already ate their fill of loaves, is confused because they are following their stomachs–not Jesus’s metaphor. We can quickly see that they are talking about two different things. 

See, the bread that Jesus is speaking of is not the kind that literally fills our stomachs, but the kind that fills our lives and embraces what God seeks for our world. Bread that fills us in the form of connection, caring for one another, peace, justice, even literally feeding one another–these are things that sustain us and bring God’s reign. They are ways that we bring hope for a future of abundant life. This is not a quick fix that involves the perishing bread that the crowd seeks, but bread that endures, living in God’s reign. 

The Israelites from Deuteronomy know this. 

In the first reading, we hear the history of the Israelite people who were exiled to Egypt. People that were separated from their homes, were left seeking out God’s promises and a place where they can peacefully live. 

This painful history is not forgotten because it impacts the way the Israelites moved around and experienced the world. It left them with a constant reminder of where they came from and to welcome those that resided among them because they were once strangers too. The people in the Gospel remember this too as they recount their time in the wilderness relying on God for mana. Trusting in God to guide them. 

Yet, as we recount the history of the Jewish people, which is also ours, it feels complicated.

We live in a country where land that was seen as a refuge by those that colonized, was actually stolen from the indigenous people. Communities that were supposed to have peace were instead torn apart. Stories of war, death, and exile have been left out, leaving us seeking out what truly happened in our history. 

Placing ourselves in the retelling of this story from Deuteronomy feels distressing because a lot of pain comes with it. Not to mention that the lives of people have become more intricately intertwined, leaving healing and restoration to feel distant. It makes one want to simply ask how the works of God are performed instead of seeking out what enduring healing is to the world. How can we be a part of the bread of life that Jesus talks about?

For starters, being in community and breaking bread together is one way.

Jesus says these words to a crowd gathered, not to a single person. Being here, not only in church, but with other people too. This is where Jesus reminds us that these pieces of our shattered histories, must be entered into and remembered with the uncomfortableness that comes with it. 

So that we, with all of creation, can have hope for a life that abides with peace, justice, and love.  That we embrace the bounty that God has given to everyone, creating a community that welcomes the stranger and gives thanksgiving for all that we share.

Which why Jesus comes to us with Bread today, offering life that endures.

This crowd in the Gospel wants to live whole and faithful lives, like you and me. They want to find fullness in the Triune God whether that means a simple meal or seeking out food that endures for a lifetime. But that is a complicated world to imagine living in when we see news reports of shootings, war, and the ever-present impacts of climate change. 

A life that embraces the bread that Jesus is talking about is not a single miracle of feeding 5,000. It is a life that asks us to hold hope for the present, for the future, and to be part of its growth. To look back at our history and believe that there will be change and that we will be changed ourselves with it. This is the life that God calls us to, not just for the world to come, but the one there is here today. Do you dare to reach out for that kind of bread for the world?

A world where life endures is one where people are fed. Where hope is held for a sustainable Earth. Where people are not oppressed for their sexuality, gender identity, and race. Where people are not living in fear for their lives when going for a night out. Where painful histories are truly grieved and began to find healing. Can you imagine what our world would be like?

Jesus tells us today that this bread is here and present for all.

Sometimes it might be literal bread, but other times this bread takes different forms: welcoming in the stranger, advocating for justice, and caring for the neighbor. Finding this life does not mean “performing the works of God” properly or seeing the specific “signs that God is going to give,” as the crowd around Jesus asks. 

But it has everything to do with embracing God’s promises and hope for the world. Everything to do with loving the neighbor, and knowing that you were once a stranger too. As we enter into Thanksgiving at our tables today and the celebration of the Eucharist, know that God reaches out to you with bread. The kind that brings life. All this is asked of you is an openness to trust and be transformed by the Triune God who is already there, working inside of you.

In the name of the Father, and of the ☩ Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.