I’m going to ask you to do something a little different soon if that’s ok: close your eyes. Normally when pastors see people do that during a sermon, well, it usually isn’t good. Occasionally it leads to bits of drool coming out the side of your mouth. And then sometimes snoring.

So if you hear the neighbor next to you snoring – and no worries, it happens – could you give them a light elbow?

If they get upset just tell them Pastor made you do it 😉

Keeping your neighbor awake in church saves us from those awkward moments when, after service, a sleeping parishioner wakes up, walks up, shakes my hand, and says “good sermon.”

Which gives me the challenge of donning my best deadpan poker face to reply “thanks.”

So thank you in advance for those elbow nudges if necessary.

Ok, now for something completely different – a guided meditation. There will be a few spots coming up with brief, intentional silence. That is your chance to ponder; an opportunity to come up with your own story. It might seem odd at first, that’s ok. Just humor me if you would.

Guided Meditation
Find a comfortable position. And yes, I realize many of you are sitting in pews. Uncross your arms and legs. Put both feet on the floor. If you’d like to join in go ahead and close your eyes. And if not that’s ok too. All this is entirely optional. You can stop the exercise any time you like.

First I want you to picture your favorite place. Some people may call it their happy place. Think about the feelings and emotions you experience while in that place. (pause 5 seconds).

Now we’re going to shift a little. Leaving that happy place, I want you to think about a recent time that got you angry. So angry that you were furious. It could have been from something that you read or saw on the news, or on social media. Or it might be something someone said to you, or even an argument that you had.

What about this moment made you upset? What do you notice about your feelings and emotions? Did this time of anger evoke different feelings and emotions than when you are in your happy place? (pause 15 seconds).

Next think about the group or person involved in the conflict. What are their politics? What religious beliefs do they have? What type of job do they hold? Or do they have no job at all? What values do they hold dear? Try to recall as much detail about the person or group as you can. (pause 15 seconds.)

File away the mental image of the person you’re angry at, and the details about them for now. We’ll come back to that a bit later.

Take a deep breath in. And then breathe out. Open your eyes.

Neighbors
Our text today is arguably the most well-known passage in the New Testament. It begins with a lawyer, testing Jesus. “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” The lawyer wants to know. Jesus points him back to the Torah, and the lawyer quotes from it.

• Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, strength and mind, and
• Love your neighbor as yourself

It is the greatest commandment, in two parts.

You likely know it well.
It challenges me.
Likely it challenges you.

Upon hearing the lawyer, Jesus responded, that’s right! Do this and you will live.

If this were the end of the story that would be that.

Two people talking,
A question asked,
A question answered,
Agreement on response.
Done, clap.

Nothing to see here. Time to move along.

It is a story with Jesus in it, being challenged with a question of great importance – where’s the –

Drama,
Conflict,
Challenge,
Surprise?

No worries – it’s coming.

The lawyer, being true to his vocation, couldn’t help but ask a follow-up question:

And who is my neighbor?

Because if you’re asking about eternal life, and believe there’s a particular way to achieve it, getting clarity on that makes really good sense.

Jesus replies, as he so often does, with a story.

Once upon a time a man was walking from Jerusalem to Jericho. Out of nowhere a gang appears and attacks. The man was beaten, stripped, robbed, left for dead. As Martin Luther King Jr. notes the ancient road is steep. Even worse the road winds back and forth; there are blind turns everywhere. In other words this is a prime place to get jumped.

Fortunately for this man some good news. Others also walk down the road. Will one of them stop to help?

Act One
First a priest approaches and sees the man. That’s got to lead to a happy ending, right? We clergy are supposed to help others. It’s kind of what we’re called to do. But this priest? He crossed the road. He distances himself from the situation and keeps on walking. The priest washed his hands of any responsibility to step in.

This particular priest isn’t making my tribe look very good.

Tho, to be entirely honest, do I stop every time I see someone in need? Sometimes I do. Not always. This text is both humbling and a personal challenge to do more.

Act Two
Next a Levite approaches and sees the man. This man too crosses the road. He too distances himself from the injured man. He too washes his hands of any responsibility to help.

Let’s unpack what the Levite represents. Many interpreters assume the Levite is a lawyer. That is one of the roles this ancient tribe performs. Since a lawyer is the one questioning Jesus in this story it gives us the opportunity to say hey Mr. lawyer, even your tribe isn’t helping! Take that.

It gives us the chance to feel kind of self-righteous, doesn’t it?

With apologies to any present company that might share this vocation – it’s kind of fun to bag on lawyers. Ands this text gives us the chance to do just that. We can make them the brunt of one more joke. Like this one –

What did the lawyer name their daughter? Sue!

But wait. The ancient tribe of Levi does more than just lawyering. One of their primary roles is to lead temple worship. To put this in modern vernacular some Levites would be the Director of Worship. Michael Elsbernd, isn’t that kind of your title?

One of your kind didn’t help this injured man on the side of the road? One of your kind crossed the road to get away? Your people just kept walking? Your people didn’t stop to help?

Dude, this is kind of awkward…my priestly people didn’t do the right thing…your music people didn’t either…

Shouldn’t our kind be doing this stuff? We’re the hired help around here – it’s kind of our job, right?

I don’t know about you Michael, but this is a bit humbling. Does this mean our kind aren’t always perfect? Does that mean we’re not perfect? Whoa.

The story continues.

Act Three
A Samaritan approaches. His response to the injured man is decidedly different. The Samaritan came near the man, and sees him. Noticing the injuries he was moved with pity. The Samaritan went to the man, bandaged his wounds, poured oil on them. He then put the man on his own animal, took him to an inn, and cared for him.

The next day he pulled out his wallet, gave the innkeeper two days of wages – aka no small amount – and asked the innkeeper to care for the injured. The Samaritan committed to come back, and pay the innkeeper any other costs that might come up.

Said differently, the injured man was given –

Healthcare,
Transportation,
Housing.

Since the injured man was stripped I’d wager the Samaritan provided some clothing too.

It’s worth noting what scripture doesn’t specify. There are no checks to confirm the injured man’s religion, ethnicity, or national origin before providing help. No queries about whether the injured man had a job. Instead there was just healing action.

Samaritan
Let’s unpack what the Samaritan represents. The original audience listening to this story were largely Jewish Israelites. They were familiar with the twelve tribes, their laws, what their faith asks of them. In the story we expect –

the priest, and
the worship leader,
to help.

The original audience would also expect the next person in the narrative to be an Israelite. This is their social hierarchy at the time; the lens through which they see everything else.

So when Jesus introduces the third man walking down the road as a Samaritan they’d be surprised.

The Samaritan represents another faith tradition from another land. John chapter 4 mentions that Samaritans and Jews don’t associate with each other. Theologian Karoline Lewis suggests this is perhaps the greatest understatement in the Bible. Jews and Samaritans, culturally, did not share much of anything in common. They shared the same God, but couldn’t agree which mountain their God dwelled on. They shared the same religious texts, but couldn’t agree which parts matter most. And if they came in contact with each other? Both were to return to their own, separate temples, to be made ritually clean.

To make a modern comparison – and generalizations like this have their limitations – consider two Christian traditions: fundamentalist Baptists and Episcopalians. Both worship the same God. Both share the same religious texts. But which texts matter most? Should baptisms be for infants, or just teens and adults? When it comes to salvation does God come to us? Or do we go to God? Who gets into heaven, and how? Does hell even exist?

What of altar calls? Raising hands in church? How should faith inform our politics? Or should it at all?

Differences like this often drive people apart more than bring them together.

This is the kind of chasm that existed between Jews and Samaritans.
This is the kind of chasm that can exist, at times, between us, and others.

Neighbor
Story now complete, Jesus then turns and asks the lawyer a question. Which of these three – the priest, the musician, the Samaritan, was a neighbor to the injured man? The lawyer, without hesitation answered: the one who showed mercy. He had answered well. Go, Jesus, responds, and do likewise.

Christ’s conclusion is shocking.  The takeaway is clear.

Following Jesus is not about who you are.
Or even what you believe.

To be a Christ follower is a matter of what you do. For we are called to serve the other, regardless of their –

Religion,
Denomination,
Race,
Ethnicity,
National origin,
Politics,
Gender,
Sexual orientation, or
Creed.

Let’s be honest: this is really hard to do. Yet we are called to it all the same. All as we look to live into our identity here at St. John’s to be in the city for good.

Friend
Speaking personally, a few weeks ago a friend made me really, really angry. When we did that meditation exercise earlier this is who comes to mind. I had posted a photo of our sanctuary here during Pride month, it was a beautiful tapestry of bright, bold, inclusive rainbow colors. Before long there were likes and loves and glowing comments on the post from so many. We take great pride in our church and what, and who, we stand for. That is a beautiful thing.

But then a Facebook friend from high school, who I haven’t seen in three decades, chimed in. He posted anti-LGBTQ rhetoric on my photo, about the wages of sin, and where he believes fellow children of God are heading because of it. It was tone deaf, outdated theology, and hurtful. I was furious. I quickly deleted his comment from my wall. When he appeared again, and kept going, I removed him as a Facebook friend.

Because really, who needs that kind of drama? Self-care, and care of you all, matters more.

To be honest I could have responded to him differently, and with more grace. It is something I’ve been reflecting on a lot of late.

And yet, when faced with this passage from Luke 10, this man too, is my neighbor. Despite also being Christian, these days we have very, very little in common.

But that doesn’t matter. For my responsibility to him is the same.

Close
If you are open to it, close your eyes one more time. Remember the recent time that angered you. Recall the image of the person you are upset with. Reflect on their politics, their beliefs, the values they hold dear. Try to see them for who they are, without judgement.

Let us pray.

Lord, thank you for making each of us in your image. Thank you for blessing us with friends, family, community, country. When we feel angry release us. Help us to forgive.

When we encounter someone in need guide us to show mercy on them. Regardless of who they are, how they act, what they believe.

For bringing heaven to earth is your happy place. Being part of that important work brings joy and fulfillment for us too.

Help us love who you love. When we forget who our neighbor is remind us. Encourage us, to also go, and do likewise. Following you, every step of the way. Amen.

A homily based on the sending of the seventy.

It all began with one.

Descending from on high, amid so much noise, the origin story is simple. One Father, one Mother, one Son. Even then, on closer inspection, this particular narrative holds more.

The child grew as all do; first one –

Crawl,
Step,
Walk,
Run.

Their speech developed as you might expect; first one –

Sound,
Syllable
Word,
Phrase,
Sentence.

And before you know it the One was in the temple, having full conversations, amazing teachers with he had to say.

It wasn’t always easy going for the One. They were tempted, in the desert, but would not succumb. They were baptized, in the waters, cleansed for all to see. A dove descended. The heavens opened. One voice, filled with pride then did speak. This is my Son. The Beloved. With whom I am well pleased.

Now grown, tempted, blessed, a time of addition, for the One, had come.

Join me, He offered two by the sea. I will teach you to fish. Not in water but on land. They dropped their nets and went. The two soon became four. Then eight. Then twelve.

Day by day, step by step, their numbers grew. The twelve watched as storms were calmed, thousands were fed, illness was healed, water turned to wine. The One challenged empire. Questioned religion. The ways of the One were unlike anything the twelve had ever seen.

Now it’s your turn, he told them.  The time for you to lead has come.

Go –

Heal the sick.
Cure disease.
Proclaim the kingdom of God.

Pack light. Your needs will be met. The twelve departed, proclaimed, healed. Oh, there were setbacks. But the movement was starting to grow.

Spurred on by their success more leaders were readied. This time the One appointed seventy. It was now their turn to lead. Go, he told them, two by two. Prepare the way of the Lord.

The work would not be easy. For the harvest is plentiful. But the workers few. Fear not, he told them. Ask for help from above.

Your task is simple.

Share peace.
Break bread.
Drink, together.

And when you encounter sickness? Heal. Then say this: The kingdom of God is near. What is this kingdom? they might ask. It is in the peace, the bread, the cup. It is in the touch that heals.  For when you do this, I am with you, said the One.

Some will welcome you. Great! Others will not. That’s ok too. Just move along. Wipe the dust from your feet. And then get back to that which you’ve been called to do.

The seventy went, doing all that was said. When they returned joy filled the air. We used your name! The darkness disappeared! It was replaced with light, life, love! The seventy were ecstatic.

Seventy. Per Genesis, the number of nations in the world. Making clear that the light, light, love this kingdom represents is to be for all.

That this text falls in the season of Pentecost is perhaps no surprise. It is a season of growth; the color is green.

I have to confess, the part where Jesus says the harvest is plenty, the workers few always gives me pause. Lots of work and not many people to do it? That doesn’t exactly seem like a recipe for success.

Yet Jesus doesn’t seem too worried about it. Where we see scarcity he sees abundance.
Fortunately, our task is simple.

Go, sharing –

Peace,
Bread.
Drink.

Heal those in need.

For it all began with One.
The movement grows still.
Continuing onward –
one, by one, by one.  Amen.

After saying goodbye to our friends and communities in Ames the past month has been spent getting our family settled here in Des Moines. We moved into our new home a couple weeks ago, two days after the end of school for our kids.

Our first week in town was mostly spent back in Ames scrubbing, staging and schlepping stuff around our previous home, readying it for sale.

After three days on the market, some good news: our old house is now under contract. Whew! Assuming all goes well with the close we’ll be back to one mortgage soon. And are very much looking forward to that.

With the unpacking of boxes now in process, an updated sense of the familiar has started to take shape. Food stuffs are located in new-to-us places: cereal to the left of the fridge, the coffee maker under the kitchen window, Splenda and coffee beans in the drawer just below. The chaos of uncertainty, punctuated by cries of ‘does anyone know where the so-and-so is’ are becoming less frequent by the day.

Now if I could consistently find where my boxers went! Then all would be well 😊.

We were lucky to have landed a 100-year-old brick home here we simply adore. As we’re quickly learning older homes come with unique challenges.

The previous homeowners took two antique chandeliers with them. Unlike what we’re used to they can’t be found at the local big-box home improvement store. And a couple of our doorknobs broke on move day; the metal piece connecting the two sides simply split in half. Wanting to repair instead of replace I took the broken remains to Ace Hardware.

For Ace is the Place with the Helpful Hardware Folk.

Ace pretty much always has the answer. So when the wise septuagenarian took the door knob, studied it for 30 seconds, handed it back, and kindly suggested I try an antique store, well I knew we were in for a new kind of adventure.

Coffee and Curios
Often, I like to prepare sermons away from home and office. Places like restaurants, coffeeshops, the occasional bar even helps to get the creative juices flowing. So when Ken Kamba suggested West End Architectural Salvage and Coffee Shop might be a fun place to try it piqued my curiosity. A morning of sermon writing accented with a break to browse for chandeliers and doorknobs from a certain era sounded great.

After studying the gospel passage while sipping coffee at West End some I decided to take that break. And what a salvage shop it is – four levels of brick walls and wooden floors of warehouse awesome. I marveled at dozens – or was it hundreds? – of chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, doors aplenty stacked neatly side by side, and wall upon wall of reclaimed metal, wood, glass. Each piece held decades of patina; many items dated back a century or more.

Looking around I couldn’t help but wonder about the former stories each treasure held. What house had that front door once protected? What dining room had this chandelier once illuminated? What porch had these wooden columns once supported, stately greeting guests as they arrived?

And yet at some point each had been separated from their purpose. I was surrounded by:

– doors that didn’t open
– chandeliers that didn’t light
– columns that did not support

The warehouse had an air of sadness. The space was filled with once magnificent items. And now? They were shadows of their former selves.

Yet I also found myself surrounded by potential. For one –
purchase,
cleaning,
sanding
painting,
and installation –

…and BOOM. With a little tlc each piece could return to that which they had been created to do. There were thousands upon thousands of happy reunions just waiting to happen all around.

After snapping a few photos of chandeliers and doorknobs and sending them to my wife I headed back downstairs to write.

Unclean
Our text today from Luke 8 is a personal favorite. In it we see Christ travel by boat from Galilee, which is Jewish territory, to the Garasenes, a land of Gentiles. Throughout scripture we’re reminded there is no border Jesus won’t cross to cure that which ails us.

We don’t know the exact nature of what possessed this man. It almost goes without saying that after two millennia understandings of physical and mental health have evolved.

We do know he referred to himself as Legion. The term, shared by the Roman military, signals a destructive presence. A Legion is many more than one, all bound together and up to no good. The name suggests a kind of existential schizophrenia, marked by confusion between a singular identity and the plural meaning of his name.

Like my jaunt through the salvage shop looking at antiques, the man Christ encounters is a shadow of his former self. His ailment has left him naked, homeless. The man used to reside in the city, but no longer lives there. Instead, his days are spent on the outskirts of town, in the graveyard, alongside the dead.

Oh, people had tried to help him. They restrained him with chains, hoping time might return him back to some semblance of normal. We now know better: incarceration, without rehabilitation, doesn’t do much good.

Besides, the chains hadn’t worked. The man would invariably break free and head away, once again, from community. And head back to the graveyard wilderness he called home.

I can’t help but wonder what life had been like before all this. Was the man married? Did he have kids? What of his vocation – was it fisherman, carpenter, scribe? What family, friends, loved ones had this ailment harmed? How much had been lost?

The man was flailing, separated from his purpose here on earth.

Clean
Enter Jesus. Christ approached the man and removes what possessed him. There are no thoughts or prayers in this narrative. Just healing action. The man, now freed of his demons, and in his right mind, puts on some clothes and sits down at the Lord’s feet.

As Jesus got back in the boat to leave the man begged to come with him. “Let me be one of your disciples, please!”

Christ had other plans. Go back to your people, Jesus asked. For you have been restored to your community. A community that, for far too long, you were separate from.

Build bridges.
Reconnect with loved ones.
Reconcile with those who were harmed.

Now healed the man could return to that which he had been created to do. Now he could look forward to countless reunions just waiting to begin.

Now made clean he was once again in right relationship with God, self, neighbor.

The man then went, proclaiming throughout the city all that Jesus had done. The story features both a happy ending, and happy beginning as we consider what, for him, is to come.

Community
As I returned to my seat at West End I heard a familiar voice. “Hey Pastor Ryan!” It was Matt, a member of my previous congregation in Ames. He was sitting with a few other guys at a nearby table, sipping coffee, playing cards.

I overheard the men talking, joking. One round of cards led to another. At some point a guy from the coffeeshop walked over and offered each of us a cupcake. It was the owner’s birthday. They wanted us to celebrate with them.

The moment felt light, relaxed, peaceful.

While munching on the cupcake I remembered a previous conversation with Matt. He is a social worker for the VA here in Des Moines. His patients are veterans. Many of whom have served in active duty in places like Kuwait, Afghanistan, Iraq. Along the way their time in the military had led to serious mental health challenges. Difficult diagnoses including things like schizophrenia and PTSD.

The diagnoses are associated with symptoms including distrust of others, altered perceptions of reality, a tendency to self-isolate.

Could these card players be clients? I called Matt to ask.

“Why yes,” he confirmed. Playing cards in public helps them get out of the house. It helps them see the world is safer than they might think. We also coordinate gatherings so they can volunteer alongside others and participate in senior center activities as well. I help them for as long as they need. Our goal is that, over time, they can better reconnect with others on their own.

Being in community, he shared, turns out to be the best medicine of all.

I had witnessed my friend in a therapeutic moment, helping to heal these men from that which ails them. Helping them to reengage with others. Sitting there reflecting on Luke 8 I couldn’t help but notice the commonality these stories share. For reconnecting a person in need with their community is exactly what Christ is all about. He does it time, and time and time again.

And here it happened over something so seemingly mundane. With each sip of coffee, each round of cards, each bite of cupcake, the delicate act of healing had begun.

Close
Like old doors and chandeliers sitting unused in a warehouse, at times we too might feel separated from the world around. We too can feel isolated, disconnected from God’s purpose for our lives.

It is then when Christ –
calls us,
claims us,
cleans us,
restores us –

back to right relationship with our God, ourselves, our neighbors.

We too have some patina on us. And we each have our scars. But please know: the good Lord is not done with us just yet.  Amen.

My last message to the beloved of Bethesda Lutheran in Ames, Iowa.

Goodbyes are no fun. Let’s just name that. This is the 3rd congregation I have said farewell to. It is not something I ever look forward to. The first two goodbyes of this sort were during seminary; one a farewell to a part-time church role, the other a parting after a one-year internship.

“Don’t get too attached,” I was often advised at those Florida churches. “Because you won’t be here long.” I found myself replying, “but relationships are the core of what it is to be a people of faith!” So I ignored their advice. And that worked out ok.

But those Florida settings were shorter durations; known stops on the path toward ordained ministry. This time around, after almost half a decade of us being together, well, it seems harder.

As far as goodbyes go I’ll borrow from something that’s been said to me a few times, and something I’ve said more than once. “It’s not you, it’s me.”

The two of us are good. I count each of you as friends. Our family loves it here. All of it.

Yet when the winds of the Spirit get moving – and Iowa is a particularly blustery state – it’s best to take note. And best to be open to where those air currents might lead.

As clergy we’re reminded that our call is to the greater church. To be honest I never knew what that meant. Tho lately, as the winds kept stirring, I kept coming back to the phrase. Perhaps it is to being open to a new path you never saw coming.

Journey
Our shared journey, speaking personally, has been sheer joy. We’ve gotten into heaps of good trouble together, and we’ve done so side by side. We dove into difficult, Christ centered conversations and initiatives like –

• Racial reconciliation
• LGBTQ+ inclusion
• Intentionally welcoming refugees, migrants and asylum seekers

All topics many churches can’t or simply won’t tackle. And when they do things tend to go sideways. But we tackled them. And tackled them well. And we’re better for it. Soon our duplex will be used to house migrants from other lands in need of a safe, fresh start. That’s something we can be incredibly proud of.

When it comes to love of neighbor we are on the right track, Bethesda beloved. My guess is, for you, the best is yet to come.

It hasn’t been all heavy, difficult conversations. Thank goodness. We’ve jumped in bounce houses, played giant Jenga, sang, ate, laughed. All while gathering indoors, outdoors, in cars, over the radio, and online.

We have had some fun over the years, for sure.

Fun
Reflecting on the lighter moments of our time together I found myself reminiscing some and jotted down a few favorites. With a nod to David Letterman here is a top ten list that represents just some of the fun we’ve had.

10. A Polka Worship service.  With the Bluestem Bellows Band. That’s the accordion quartet that features our very own Bethesda member Lori Woodcock.

9. In December of 2020, at the height of pandemic, over 250 of us gathered in our cars here in the parking lot for Root Beer & Carols. We sang, we sipped, we celebrated. Many of us hadn’t seen each other in 9 months. What a grand reunion.

8. Sitting over the dunk tank, getting drenched every time a thrown ball hit that little metal post. Someone put ice in the water one year…who was that?

7. Climbing the scaffolding in the sanctuary. Pastor Bryan and I did that for a Pastor Chat.

6. Climbing the scaffolding in the Commons. This one was during Pandemic. We wanted you to know your pastors were “hanging in there.”

5. Climbing the church roof for a Pastor Chat, being tempted to jump to see if angels would catch me (kids, don’t try this at home.) Pastor Bryan, I was glad you stayed grounded. You’re good at that 😊.

4. For a Mardi Gras Beer & Hymns gathering, which is the day before Ash Wednesday, I sometimes wear a t-shirt that reads, “Get Your Ash in Church.” Just to be clear that is spelled A-S-H.

3. Running up and down the hallways, alongside Pastor Bryan, screaming at the top of our lungs, for a Home Alone parody. We were both kind of worried our wish one day that the congregation would just go away actually caused the pandemic.

2. A fourteen-day trip to Tanzania with youth and adults from here and St. Andrews. Oh the experiences we had, the things we learned, the joy we shared. The Christ we saw in others living so differently than us.

1. Buying a keg of beer for our Oktoberfest event. And putting it on the church credit card. I was so delighted you actually let your Pastor do this – we Lutherans are kind of special like that – I held on to the receipt. One of these days I’ll likely frame it 😊.

Goodbyes
Our gospel reading, John 13:31-35, has some irony baked right in. The scripture is part of a lectionary hundreds of thousands of Catholics and Protestant churches worldwide use every weekend. The lectionary is set on church calendars years in advance. Please know I didn’t pick this text.

So when I noticed that our short gospel reading finds Jesus telling the disciples that he is with them only a little longer, and that where he is going they cannot come, well, hmm.

Two things. First, please never confuse this pastor – or any pastor for that matter – with Jesus. We do our best to help point to the way, but we are not the Way. Far from it. If you need any help in making this distinction between clergy and Christ, well, just ask my wife. She will set you straight 😊.

Second: beware the downfalls of literal interpretations of scripture. Because where I am going you can totally come. At least for a visit when you’re in town. Our family would love to see you on occasion. We’ll get up here for some Cyclone games here and there too.

The final piece of this passage contains the main takeaway. Anticipating a time he will no longer be with the disciples in bodily form Jesus gives the disciples a new command: love one another.

This three-word command is so simple, so straightforward, you almost don’t need to hear a sermon about it. Our scripture reminds me of a story a retired pastor here at Bethesda tells on occasion. They asked to remain anonymous. That is a request I will honor. Tho I will say this: their first name rhymes with fuss.

The story this unnamed pastor tells is of a 19th century Lutheran Bishop. The church world back then was more top-down, and the Bishop expected parishioners to heed his every word. Every-so-often, during worship, the Bishop would read scripture, and – instead of preaching on it – say this:

You know what this means.
Now do it.

And then he’d sit down.

Which basically equates to the shortest sermon ever.
With this text I am tempted to do just that 😊.

Instead, let’s spend some time expounding on who this brief imperative – to love one another – applies to.

• For the Facebook friend who always wants to argue – we are to love them.
• For people from this land, other lands, or who have no land to call their own – we are to love them.
• For the science adherents and the science deniers – we are to love them.
• For the person who wronged us we still don’t speak to – we are to love them.
• For the Supreme Court Justices with whom we disagree – we are to love them.
• For the person who killed a man with multiple gunshots here in Ames earlier this week – we are to love them.
• Even for Pastors and their family heading 45 minutes south, whether we love or loathe their leaving – it’s probably a bit of both – we are to love them.

I’ll aspire to do the same. Tho to be honest you’re a lovable group here, one and all.

Delta
Change is hard. There’s no way around it. The packing of boxes our family is in the middle of a good reminder of that. Leadership transitions can be challenging. When congregations evolve it can’t help but create growing pains.

That’s where this edict – to love one another – comes in. For it is true no matter where we hang our hat. It is true no matter who we break bread with. It is true whether we know the surroundings we are in, or they are brand spanking new.

The call is the same. For each of us, regardless of our circumstances: we are to love. If only we embrace this simple imperative, regardless of what else may be swirling around us in the winds of change, all is truly well.

Close
To be honest I’m not sure exactly how to conclude this message – goodbyes being so difficult and all. Instead, if you would, please just listen in to this short song, as it captures my feelings well.

To quote Garrison Keillor of Prairie Home Companion fame –

Be well,
Do good work,
Keep in touch. Amen.