My friend Paul Sundberg, who is a Lutheran Pastor, gave a sermon last Sunday that is worthy of reposting and publication. It is about choices, and the compassion with which we should be approaching choices in our lives and in the world. Enjoy!
As for Me (Sermon by Paul Sundberg preached on 8/24/09)
Appalling Acts of Radical Compassion
Joshua 24.1-2a, 14-18, Psalm 34.15-22 Ephesians 6.10-20 John 6.56-69
Choices are a part of life: some are really easy:
Tostitos and salsa or Ruffles and dip?
Chocolate or Vanilla?
Mariners or Yankees?
Ford or Toyota?
Boxers or briefs?
More or less?
But some choices are anything but simple. Some appeal to our need to be right; some bring joy to some and grief to others. And that means that they are the kind of choices that demand that we be genuine in our faith: genuine in the way Paul means it when he writes to the divided congregation in Corinth. He does not demand that they get it right, he calls them to be genuine – which he then goes on to describe as love.
I don’t like talking about choice from the pulpit. The worship band folks from our 9:00am service will tell you that whenever I see the word choice in the lyrics of the songs they sing, I write new lyrics. I’m no fan of choice theology, (it too easily leads to the idea that salvation and righteousness are up to me) yet I have come to grudgingly accept, as I have read the Bible over the last 37 years (as student, teacher, pastor and repentant believer), that just as light is both a wave and a particle – it depends on what you’re looking for – so faith is pure gift and choice.
Besides, with today’s reading I can’t avoid it. “Choose,” Joshua says to the assembled leaders and elders as he and Aaron’s son are about to die and a change of generations is about to take place. “Choose between the lesser gods of convenience and comfort or God who wrestles with us, leads us into physical and spiritual wildernesses, journeys and battles, who calls us into constant repentance and forgiveness, radical generosity and compassion, and hospitality to angels and saints, strangers and sinners.
He’s just echoing his mentor Moses, who said it more simply, “See I have set before you today death or life. Choose Life.
Jesus says it more personally, his teachings and actions are hard to take, and many of his disciples have left. He turn to the twelve and ask, “Do you also want to leave? Will you walk away from me or walk with me?”
But the choice isn’t easy, even when the gift of faith has been given. Jesus comes with appalling acts of radical compassion and love:
-Jesus calls hicks and dreamers to be his disciples
-Turns water to wine for an already inebriated wedding party
-Chases out of the temple those whose presence has been blessed by priests and Levites, but whose greed creates a barrier to those who just want to worship
-Tells a leader of the people he has to start over with a new life and new perspective
-Calls himself the son of God
-Forgives sin
-Heals on the Sabbath
-Calls himself the giver of eternal life
-Claims authority above and beyond Scripture
-Feeds thousands
-Offers himself, his body and blood, for the people
And that’s just the first six chapters of John. He will yet:
-Save the life of the woman caught in adultery and send her away without condemnation
-Shatter the myth of a connection between sin and physical defects and differences
-Heal the blind
-Raise Lazarus
-Let his feet be touched and anointed by a woman who is not related to him
-Wash the feet of his disciples
-Give his peace
-Choose weakness over power and submit to the authorities
-Die on the cross
You who say you love me…what will you choose…do you also want to leave?
It wasn’t and isn’t an easy choice. Our instinct is to return to the things that help us avoid wrestling with issues, that help us put life (ours and everyone else’s) in order, and make life convenient, profitable, and comfortable. The things that make it easy to not look beyond ourselves, not look at the consequences of our choices, not have to honor our interdependence, or confess our own sin first, or give ourselves away. We’d prefer the lesser gods of moral rectitude, self-righteousness, self-service and cultural accommodation.
If our choices are so self-focused, so turned in on ourselves, so demanding of a single mind, how will we turn to the family at the church seeking shelter? How will we continue to dig wells in communities that thirst regardless of the language they speak, the traditions they honor, the religion they follow? How will we speak the gospel of Jesus Christ to a nation that is wracked with anxiety, struggling to recover, and reeling from the divisive language of politicians and pundits and the fearful? How will we be Christ’s Church?
You who say you love me…what will you choose…do you also want to leave? Or, will you realize that these things I do, I do for you, freely in spite of your sin, because of your sin. The wine…it’s for you. Worship…it’s for you. New life…it’s for you. Forgiveness, hope, healing, me…my flesh and blood…my dying…it’s for you. I will let nothing stand in the way of my love for you. I am the Son of God who wrestles with you as you wrestle with life and what it brings. You who say you love me, do you also want to leave, or will you join me in appalling acts of radical compassion?
As for me and my house the only answer can be, “We will serve the Lord. After all, Lord, to whom shall we go? You, you Jesus, have the words of eternal life.”
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