Just sit right back and you’ll hear a tale,
A tale of a fateful trip
That started from this tropic port
Aboard this tiny ship.

The mate was a mighty sailing man,
The skipper brave and sure.
Five passengers set sail that day
For a three hour tour, a three hour tour.

The weather started getting rough,
The tiny ship was tossed,
If not for the courage of the fearless crew
The Minnow would be lost, the Minnow would be lost.

The ship set ground on the shore of this uncharted desert isle
With Gilligan
The Skipper too,
A millionaire and his wife,
A movie star
The Professor and Mary Ann,
Here on Gilligan’s Isle.

So begins each episode of the 1960s sitcom Gilligan’s Island. I used to love watching that show in syndication in the 80s. The theme song tells you all you need to know about the predicament the seven castaways are in.

They left from a tropic port, where all was seemingly well. But then disaster struck, in the form of a storm, leaving those aboard separate from the paradise they’d departed from.
Every episode began with the same basic premise. They wanted to get back, to their friends, their families, their versions of the good life. But, despite their best efforts, human hijinks always seemed to screw it up.

In one episode two Russian cosmonauts arrive. And plan to take the castaways back to civilization with them. But the seven drink too much vodka, and fall asleep, forcing the cosmonauts to leave without them.

In another, the castaways find a hidden raft. But they also find a lost gold mine. Not able to leave wealth behind they bring the gold on their escape vessel. But the weight of it all sinks the raft, dashing any hopes of escape.

One time a band called the Mosquitoes – that’s a Beatles spoof – appears. Ginger, Mary Anne and Mrs. Howell form a singing group, The Honeybees, hoping to impress. But the Mosquitoes worry the Honeybees could be competition. So they leave them there.

The castaways never did get back, at least in the original series, despite so very many attempts. Paradise, for the seven, was lost.

Beginning
Story arcs for the tales of scripture are similar. In the beginning was the paradise of a garden. A garden where all was well between God, man, woman. Creator and creation coexisted peaceably. Everything was as it should be.

But then weather took a turn for the worse, in the form of a snake, a tree, a choice. Before you know it, the cast of two were also on a fateful trip. They too, found themselves stranded, separate from the paradise they’d left behind.

Episodes of scripture, in their own way, often begin with that same basic premise. People want to get back to what they had before. That want to get back to right relationship with God, right relationship with each other.

For once you experience things as they should be, you’ll always yearn for that idyllic state.

Unfortunately, history shows people aren’t that good at actually doing it. Despite their best-efforts, ancient human hijinks can end up making things even worse.

We humans were once so intent on getting close to God we started building a tower to the heavens, desiring to become gods ourselves. Which was never the plan. These hijinks led God to give the builders many languages, halting the project. Leaving us separate still.

Hoping to point us in the right direction God created ten basic commands. But the people grew impatient waiting for them, and instead gathered their bling, melted it down, and worshiped a golden calf. Worship of wealth has created strain between creator and created ever since.

When God cleared the way for God’s beloved to have their own land, after exile, the people doubted, questioned, feared. Because of this they wandered the wilderness for 40 years, separate from the promise once more.

With each hope of return to paradise foiled, in an endless number of ways, God grew frustrated. Watching episode after episode end, each with the same conclusion, for way more than three seasons, God couldn’t help but feel sad.

Realizing something had to change, God decided to act. It was time for another new beginning.

Beginning again
This is the beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. It marks the start of today’s text.

This beginning too had a fateful trip, from the heavens to the earth. Even better, this beginning featured a central character that would lead the people home. Back to the paradise lost they so desired.

The good news this beginning represents started with a messenger, and a message. The messenger was not the one, but prepared the way for the one.

The messenger would –

Point the compass,
Set the GPS,
Make Christ’s way clear.

The messenger proclaimed –

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Forgiveness of sins,
Hope for brighter tomorrows.

Hearing this –

The people came.
The people confessed.
The people were baptized.

It was the beginning of a movement with us still.

The messenger gave all this good news from the wilderness. A wilderness the people had been in for so much more than 40 years. A wilderness that would be illuminated, in the not-too-distant future, by a star, a manger, a birth.

Oh there would still be drama ahead after this fateful trip. The weather would keep getting rough. Human hijinks were here to stay.

But now there was a plan.
The people now knew the path.
They need only follow.

Beginning soon
It’s been a tough year. We hunger to turn away from our recent status quo.

We yearn for –
new beginnings,
fresh starts,
good news.

We want to get off the crazy rollercoaster ride we’ve been on.
We want to get back to our friends, our families, our version of the good life.

To quote a gay rights advocacy project that began a decade ago, we desperately want to believe that it gets better.

Yet, in the middle of a seemingly endless amount of human hijinks we’ve experienced this year, the possibility of getting away from it might be difficult to imagine.

Covid deaths keep increasing.
Political divides keep growing.
Will either ever really end?

But consider this – the pandemic of 1918 killed 675,000 in the US. More than Covid likely will. And that’s among a US population of only 100 million then. That’s a third of what it is today. In pandemic terms, it’s been worse.

Consider too that, despite political divisions, we’re nearing another successful transition of power, from one president to the next. Civil war is in our past, not our future. In political terms, it’s been worse. Much worse.

Remember too, the people of 1861 and 1918 had the same promise given to them from scripture.

They too looked for –

new beginnings,
good news,
a path,
a star,
a savior.

God was there for people of centuries past.
God is here for us today.

Despite how rough the weather may get.
Despite how tossed our tiny ship may seem.

For God is for all people, past, present, and future.
And that certainly includes you.

As Advent turns to Christmas turns to 2021 –

Let us recognize the darkness of 2020 for what it is. But let us not linger too long. For unlike the seven castaways, in the midst of human hijinks we have hope.

We castaways live in a moment of great anticipation.
We need only set our sights toward a fresh start, a new beginning.

A beginning of the good news, of Jesus Christ.
A beginning of confession, repentance, mended fences.
A beginning that comes around, this time of year, once again. Amen.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.

There was food. Plenty of it. Food science had yielded impressive gains. But infrastructure was needed to get it to those needing it most.

There was wealth. At least in this land, so very much prosperity. But that wealth was held by fewer and fewer. Leaving more and more on the outside, looking in.

There were healers. The list of the brokenness they could mend grew by the day. But who could afford such extravagance? Fewer and fewer still.

There were medicines. Chemical combinations capable of curing all kinds of ills. But who would receive these healing balms? The makers set their prices, opened their markets, prepared to help anyone who could pay.

There were vaccines. On the way, and soon. Giving great hope to many. But were outgoing rulers sharing all they knew with those soon to replace them? The people staked their lives on that hope. But truth be told they weren’t really quite sure.

There were devices. Devices to connect, to play, to amuse. But the handheld toys came with side effects just beginning to be understood. For they were also devices to frustrate, to isolate, to depress.

There were promises. That all men, and women, and children were created equal. That the color of your skin didn’t much matter. That you could marry who you loved, without exception. But promises were broken, and often. How much promise did these promises still hold? The people wondered. Then they wondered some more.

It was a season of Darkness.
That much was clear.
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But it, too, was a season of Light.
A light that shined in the darkness.
And the darkness did not overcome it.

For a star, brighter than any before, illuminated the heavens. Wise men, women and children then followed that star, curious to see where the light might lead.

They brought with them their food, wealth, healers, medicines, vaccines, devices, promises. They laid them all at the foot of the manger. Near an infant wrapped in swaddling clothes. They then prayed. That what they carried with them on this journey be not burden, but blessing.

A blessing for all people, without exception.

These are the best of times, these are the worst of times.

In the midst of so much unsettled still, may we, too, set our sights on the star.  May we too, begin our journey anew.

A reflection on Matthew 25:34-40

Melanie and Tyler Tapajna had their wedding particulars all figured out. From the venue to the dress to the food to the dancing, they were ready. It was to be a magnificent day. But the pair had a problem; the wedding was slated for August 2020. Which made gathering safely tricky at best. When the couple from Parma, Ohio, received word the picturesque spot they’d booked for their nuptials would not be open they were disappointed, but not surprised.

Even worse, they’d prepaid for food to feed 150 of their family and friends. They could have tried to find another venue and invited everyone, but Melanie said it just didn’t make sense. Instead, she had an idea and turned to her finance with a question. “What would you think of donating the food instead?”

Tyler loved the idea.
A plan soon emerged.

The couple reached out to Laura’s Home, a Cleveland shelter for single women and mothers with children, and arranged to have their caterer deliver a meal worth about $2,000 to 135 people.

The soon-to-be newlyweds had but one request. After saying their I do’s in front of a dozen family members, they wanted to serve the meal at the shelter themselves. The shelter agreed.

On their big day they married in front of a dozen family members. After the ceremony, the couple, still in their formal wedding attire, drove to the shelter, met the food truck owner, and prepared to serve. They fed the multitude, dishing out fried chicken, mac ‘n cheese, green beans and potato salad, topping it off with chocolate cake for dessert.

Little girls stood on their tiptoes to see Melanie’s wedding gown. Single women and mothers expressed their heartfelt thanks. The shelter’s director smiled, saying, “welcome to your wedding reception.”

The day turned out to be magnificent after all.

Celebrating among people they’d never met, each with so many needs, a new reality becomes clear. For the shelter residents were hungry. And had been given food. Really good food.

With each piece of chicken plated, each mac ‘n cheese scooped, another had been served. For Christ was there. Present in the 135 hungry that filled their bellies that day.

Feet
A decade ago David and Randy had a different kind of problem. The two friends had six-figure salaries working in media and tech companies. But they wanted more. More meaning that is. It was a problem money alone simply couldn’t solve.

Then one day a Facebook fundraising campaign grabbed David’s attention. From it he learned something new: socks were the most requested item in homeless shelters. How could this need be better met?

Knowing some companies use a buy one, give one away model, the pair wondered if the approach could be applied to socks.

So they got to work. During product development they gave sample socks to homeless shelters and requested feedback. Can you make it more durable? And in darker colors to hide stains? Is there any way the socks can help prevent the growth of fungus too?

They were big asks.

The two soon realized socks made for the homeless needed features very different than those they would soon make for sale. So they invested another six months into R&D, working alongside their charity partners. All to develop a very specific sock for a very specific need.

It’s part of the mission they’ve had since day one: to help those experiencing homelessness. For everyone, their website says, no matter their circumstances, deserves to put on clean clothes that feel good.

They then turned to Indiegogo to raise funds, quickly netting ten times more than their hoped-for $10,000 investment. That led to an opportunity to appear on the show Shark Tank, where they cut a deal with investor Daymond John. Their altruistic approach had swayed hearts, minds, wallets.

Early on they settled on a company name: Bombas, Latin for bumblebee. Bees are small, but have a big impact on the world. Their slogan, “Bee Better” is stitched into every sock they make. It’s a great reminder that we can do more with simple, seemingly small everyday actions too.

And what an impact it’s made. The two now partner with over 2,500 community organizations to distribute their socks to the homeless. How many pairs have been donated? In only seven years the number just might surprise. Over 42 million.

It’s hard not to celebrate a success story that helps so many. Looked at in the right light another truth emerges. For the shelter residents had feet that were naked. And had been given socks. Really good socks.

With each pair purchased, given and worn, with each step taken in them, another had been served. For Christ was there. 42 million times over. Walking alongside the least of these, step by step by step.

Care
Vietnam veteran Joe Tasby was admitted to a Nevada hospital in March. He, too, had a problem. Joe struggled with lung disease and a heart arrhythmia and needed expert care. Fortunately, Joe, who is blind, had his trusty guide dog Cupid by his side.

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That’s when Barbara Borbeck “swooped in and came to the rescue — she took good care of us,” Joe recalls.

Each day for nearly three weeks, Barbara, the hospital’s medical-surgical and telemetry director, helped Joe care for his beloved guide dog. “She came in first thing every morning and took him for a walk all around the hospital as she did her rounds, made sure he got outside, to get some air and exercise. She made sure he had food and treats.” Joe recalls.

“Everything Cupid needed she took care of.”

Barbara’s dedication to Cupid and Joe extended far beyond hospital walls. When Cupid’s kibble ran low she traveled to nine different area stores to find the special food. Instead, she encountered only empty shelves.

But Barbara didn’t give up. The nurse drove 40 minutes one morning before her shift to a store that had the food in stock, ensuring Cupid had the right dinner.

Cupid began to grow fond of his helper during the hospital stay, waiting at the door each day for her to arrive, greeting her with a wagging tail. “Cupid can usually tell if people have a good spirit,” says Joe. No doubt, Barbara has a great spirit.

After 21 days Joe was given a clean bill of health, and discharged from the hospital, with Cupid by his side. Nurse Barbara was there too, walking them out the front door all the way to the car.

It’s a heartwarming story, no doubt. Yet seen a certain way the picture becomes more complete. For Joe was sick. Cupid needed help. And Barbara had cared for them both. Time and time again.

With each medicine given, each dog walk, every kibble search, another had been served. For Christ was there. Right by her side. Present in each healing, caring act Barbara performed.

Close
This year, more than most, it can be a little harder to see Christ among us. We often find our focus turned inward to –

Our protests,
Our politics,
Our finances,
Our fears,
Our biases,
Our crises,
Our selves.

Instead, let us shift our gaze outward, to –
The hungry,
The thirsty,
The stranger,
The naked,
The sick,
The imprisoned,
The other.

For when we –
Feed,
Quench,
Welcome,
Clothe,
Care,
And visit –
the least of these,

who are members of the Father’s family,
we meet more than just human need.

In these acts we serve another. We serve Christ. A Christ present with us, in the flesh, taking on human form. In these moments, of service to the other, we encounter nothing less than the kingdom of God.  Amen.

We are an impatient people. And many of our wait times are only getting shorter.

It used to be multiple months between a film’s theatre release and when it could be seen at home. Now it’s mere weeks or even the same day. Instant gratification, from the comfort of a favorite couch.

Not too long-ago mail-order purchases often took 4-6 weeks to arrive. Now if it doesn’t arrive in a couple of days, with free shipping no less, we get antsy.

This week we excitedly watched screens, refreshed pages, anticipated hoped-for results on the horizon. When news took longer than normal to arrive – hello COVID counting complexities – we couldn’t help but be on edge.

The parable of the ten maidens also features some impatient people. And for good reason: a grand wedding was on the horizon. Being part of the bridal party, the maidens were, of course, excited. Outfits had been selected; alterations complete. Jewelry adorned; hair coifed just so. The maidens couldn’t hardly wait for the big party to begin.

And they had their lamps. This was important. For the maidens were essential workers playing a crucial role. They were to be the bearers of light, helping scatter the darkness. Without their light this grand celebration simply wouldn’t be.

But the wedding didn’t begin as soon as they’d hoped. The bridegroom was delayed. Day turned to evening, turned to night. The maidens grew impatient. The maidens grew tired. The maidens then slept.

And then, still deep in slumber, a shout rang out. The bridegroom approaches! The maidens awoke, and prepared to greet him. They grabbed their lamps. But there was a problem: while waiting their oil had run low. The light they offered now grew dim.

Some were prepared, possessing extra fuel to see them through.
Others had not, and frantically ran to get more.

By the time the unprepared found fuel and returned, the wedding banquet had begun. The unprepared were now on the outside, looking in, at a party already in progress.

They realized their purpose, why they’d been invited in the first place –

To be the bearers of light,
helping scatter the darkness all around,

no longer applied. For the moment, for them, had already passed.

We are an impatient people. We find ourselves excitedly looking toward future celebrations, promises of better tomorrows. It’s natural to want to just get there already.

Waiting is hard.
Yet waiting is necessary.

And more important than the waiting itself? How we go about it.

May we wait well.
May we prepare well.

As we look out on –
– a pandemic raging,
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Let me encourage you, people of God:

Accept the call handed to you from on high.

Pick up your lamps.
Be the bearers of light.
Help scatter the darkness all around.

Don’t hibernate.
Don’t wait for it to magically go away.

We don’t know how long this night will last.
It may be more marathon than a short sprint.
Still, we believe, morning will come.

So refuel, frequently.
Don’t let your tank run empty.

Sleep when you need.
But still stay woke.

As we wait, may we embrace the awakening. Becoming more aware of the world around. For God desires to refresh, renew, and reincarnate all of it.

As we wait, may we bear Christ’s light by blessing –
– the poor in spirit, weary from years of challenge;
– those who mourn, grieving the loss of too many, too soon;
– the hungry and thirsty, nourishing their body, feeding their soul;
– the peacemakers, seeking to unite warring factions all around;
– those persecuted for their gender, nationality, skin color, or who they love.

Earthly leaders will fail us, no matter who they are.
This is our past, our present, our future.

Instead, we look for salvation elsewhere. We set our sights to the source from which we draw hope. We follow the path that hope illuminates, from above.

For when we bear Christ’s light, by blessing others, the darkness can’t help but dissipate. Leaving in its wake a glimpse of the garden. As it once was, and can be, again.  Amen.

It was a time of plague. And it had been, off and on, for a while. When plague popped up in Whittenburg in 1527 people knew what was at stake. Two hundred years prior plague had wiped out a third of Europe’s population, possibly more. There was fear, justifiably so, that it could happen again. Many left town, hoping to save themselves. This left fewer healthy people to care for the sick, and a shortage of the frontline healthcare workers of the day.

No matter how people responded it created a moral dilemma. Is it ok to look out for yourself, and close family? Or does the greater good, a good that benefits all of society matter more? Or, could it be possible even, to do both?

It was a time of new tech. The invention of the Guttenberg Press couldn’t help but mix things up. Until then books were copied by hand. Which was slow. And expensive. And inaccessible to most; texts then were in languages only religious, academic, and ruling-class elites could read. So when Martin Luther began publishing inexpensive pamphlets, in German, the language of the people, highlighting how the Church exploited the masses, contrary to scripture, they sold like hotcakes.

Commoners now had access to news that undermined a trusted institution. It created tension, conflict. And a growing awareness something had to change.

It was a time of revolt. Historians debate what caused the Peasant’s War of the 1520s. Some trace its roots to a rising economic imbalance between working-class laborers and the knights, dukes, and princes ruling over them. Others point to Luther’s rhetoric against the Catholic Church being repurposed to address the underlying economic tensions of the time.

Regardless of the cause, the effect is well documented. Hundreds of thousands of everyday Germans were killed, put down by their government. What began as hopes for economic reforms ended in bloodshed. Christian leaders of the day were split. Some supported the peasants. Others, including Luther, were vehemently opposed to their cause. This dark spot in history is a reminder; much-needed reform can be painful. And isn’t always supported by the people you’d expect.

2020
It is a time of plague. And it has been, for a while; soon we’ll be staring into year two. We know what’s at stake; H1N1, Ebola, and Zika all linger in recent memory. There is fear, justifiably so. More have died from COVID-19, globally, than these three combined. The US, sadly, has been impacted most of all.

Many with means isolate, protecting themselves, their families above all else. Some simply don’t care. Others don’t have the luxury to choose their approach. For the sick must be cared for. Grocers must provide food. Buildings must be cleaned.

We know certain groups are more affected by this plague than others:
– People with pre-existing, underlying medical conditions
– Adults over age 65
– Black and brown bodies

Each much more likely to become infected.
Each much more likely to die.

These imbalances raise ethical questions. Are bodies already sick, or aging, or black or brown worth less than others? Or are we called to care for them, just as we care for ourselves? Best medical practices tell us mask wearing in public drastically reduces spread of this particular plague. Should we wear them, helping our neighbor? Or do the personal liberties we hold so dear matter more?

It is a time of new tech. The advent of the internet era couldn’t help but mix things up. Even if it wasn’t invented by Al Gore. Handwritten letters, Blockbuster, physical books, soon replaced by emails, Netflix, Kindles.

Devices and subscriptions accessing this new info superhighway sold like hotcakes, no surprise there.

New tech created access to so much, so fast, for so many. We could zoom over and see our beloved living far away. Participate in commerce with the click of a button. Attend church in our living room, donning our favorite pajamas, coffee cup in hand. During a pandemic new tech arguably has been crucial to our survival. We look at its creation and conclude yes. It was good.

Yet with new toys come new warning labels. Instead of using these new creations to celebrate each other, we instead exploited it, sharing half-truths, mistruths, conspiracy theories with no truth at all. Each fabrication with the potential to be seen by millions, within hours. Real damage has been done.

In our rush to be great, and to win, we sought to expose others. Instead, we’d only exposed ourselves. And found we’d been cast out from a very good garden, once again.

New tech also brought to light unfortunate very real truths we wish weren’t so. Like eight minutes of video uploaded this year from Minneapolis on May 25. It’s difficult to watch the police officer’s knee to the neck of George Floyd, amidst cries of I can’t breathe, as he dies.

Systemic racism in the US is nothing new. We know this. But the technology that showcases it still is. Our connected devices now readily reveal societal flaws more closely, more clearly than ever before. News of this sort can’t help but undermine once trusted occupations, once trusted institutions.

And because of it we seek, once again, solutions to problems that have lingered far too long.

It is a time of revolt. Response to George Floyd’s murder has been varied. Most often it has taken the form of peaceful protest. Usually with people masked as they march; for we’re still in pandemic, after all. But there has, on occasion, been property destroyed. And riots. And more loss of life too. We wish that weren’t so.

As a result there is tension, there is conflict.
There is growing awareness something must change.

Protesters share issues best told by the signs they wield. Highlights include:
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– No justice, No peace.

And this personal favorite:

The roots of these protests are 400 years in the making. Disparities in access to healthcare, high rates of incarceration, large gaps in wealth, large gaps in opportunity. All contribute to the challenges we face.

When it comes to speaking clearly about whether black lives matter, or not, many Christian leaders don’t say a word. Others speak out.

Our denomination, the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, says this:

“We apologize…for our historical complicity in slavery and its enduring legacy of racism. We lament the white church’s failure to work for the abolition of slavery and the perpetuation of racism in this church. We confess, repent and repudiate the times when this church has been silent in the face of racial injustice.”

The Protestant Reformation was rooted in protest. Speaking to and helping solve the injustices God’s children face is our shared, common call. Reform, simply put, is what we do.

Today
Most years Reformation Day in Lutheran churches is a holiday we celebrate. A triumph of much-needed change. Awash in the color of red, reminding us the Holy Spirit is in the midst of it all. Today, against a backdrop of pandemic, empty sanctuaries, and deep societal imbalances becoming painfully clear, I’ve got to be honest with you. I don’t feel much like celebrating. No red balloons will be released here today.

Perhaps this is what it felt like to live through the reformation half a millennia ago. Sure, there was excitement, drama, a growing sense massive tectonic religious and societal shifts were underway. But their ending hadn’t been written. For many years it was a struggle of ideas, possibilities, hopes for a brighter future not yet achieved.

In these uncertain, hopeful times, full of potential, full of anxieties, we turn to scripture for guidance.  Continue in my word, Jesus asks of us in John 8:31-36. For when you do, you are truly my disciples.

When you are Christ’s disciples you will know the truth. And be better prepared to weed out the mistruths, half-truths, and conspiracy theories with no truth at all. Christ’s truth – one that resides within us through the movement of the Spirit – that truth, my friends, will set you free.

These days of plague, new tech, and protests leave us with much to ponder. May we turn to Christ’s truth to better see the world around.

Dear God, reform us. Re-form:
Our hearts,
Our minds,
Our churches,
Our in-groups,
Our economies,
Our courts,
Our governments.

Break down the walls we use that divide. Unite us as one people, loved by our creator. Show us how to care for one another, as you so deeply care for us.

Without exception.
Regardless of age, underlying medical conditions, skin color.
Or anything else.

Help us to right wrongs, hundreds of years in the making. Make us active participants in reforming your world, re-making it your image. Not ours.

Reform us here.
Reform us now.
It is time.  Amen.