My wonderful mentor, who preached at my ordination, gave me a copy of her sermon. I liked it so much the first time, I thought I would share it with those of you who didn't get to hear it in person:
For everything (turn, turn, turn)
there is a season (turn, turn, turn)
and a time for every purpose under heaven.
Qoheleth, the Preacher of Ecclesiastes, the teacher of wisdom, is the lead-off batter for our celebration today. And I must say, Sarah, you have chosen fascinating scriptural texts for our worship! Not only does the Preacher of this book sound like a tired old cynic (at first glance)--quite out of keeping with this day to honor, tremble at, and celebrate your call. But really, I'm shocked! This is not a Beatles song! Pete Seeger wrote it in the 50's, the Byrds sang it in the 60's, but the Beatles never touched it.
Now, this needs some explaining. I first met Sarah at Lutheran Campus Ministry worship, when I was campus pastor at UM. She was starting her college career in January--with her penchant for unorthodox timing--and I was delighted to have a new student come by half-way through the year. It didn't take us long to discover our common love. Well, Jesus, of course. And then The Beatles. Must have been on a road trip when the tunes got popped into the CD player. Soon I learned the depth of Sarah's devotion, and something about the workings of her mind as well: she knew--and still knows--all the lyrics to "I Am the Walrus." Now this is a very strange Beatles song and the words make no sense. How anyone could memorize them is beyond me! But Sarah has. And if you ask her nicely...you'll see.
So that started of a relationship of complexity, depth, and honesty. Not long into the semester, Sarah's boldness became apparent. Pastor Jean, she said after communion one night, this is absolutely awful communion bread. This was most certainly true. Pita bread, frozen, and nuked. Not much of an improvement on the old wafers. I have a pretty good recipe. Let me make it, OK? From then on, the sacrament of holy communion had considerably more JOY to it. Students were amazed: We've never had such good communion bread EVER! And then they felt a little guilty, for wanting the sacrament to taste good.
It does sound a little frivolous. But the students were simply following Ecclesiastes' wisdom: Go, eat your bread with enjoyment, and drink your wine with a merry heart; for God has long ago approved what you do. (x2) Read the book, and see that The Preacher (the author of Ecclesiastes) was not cynically commending the party scene--eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow you die. Not quite. We WILL all die--rich and poor, righteous and wicked alike. We will all got to Sheol, the place of the dead, and we won't take any of the fruits of our labors with us. The Preacher was a realist, who looked at life squarely, noticed that the good don't always prosper and the wicked sometimes do quite well--and then wondered like the rest of us, what's the use? And who is God, if not the One who rewards the pious and condemns the ungodly? The Preacher's conclusion was not to dance around any of this, but look life straight in the eye and say this: There is nothing better for mortals than to eat and drink and find enjoyment in their...toil. This I saw is from the hand of God, for apart from God, who can eat, or who can have enjoyment?
Did you hear it? Not simply joy in play--but also joy in work. For everything is from God, who holds it all together. Not in ways that we can see. Not in ways that are easy or pain-free. Not at all. But the Preacher of Ecclesiastes is commending to Preacher Sara--and the rest of us--a bedrock trust in God. Trust in God beyond the changes and chances of life. "Vanity" it's called in the book. The word in Hebrew means "mist" or "breeze"--something that gives life but defies being grasped, boxed, quantified, preserved.
And boy, don't we know it. Just when you think you've got it all figured out--bammo!-- something happens. Death, illness, divorce, natural disaster--who among us has not been touched? Our neighbors in Burma and China are experiencing wholesale dislocation and suffering at a horrific scale. But we are not immune. And we all need good preachers who know this. Who know the precariousness of life. Even its unfairness. Who then can remind us where the bedrock lies. Who helps the congregation remember the faithfulness of God, creator; the suffering love of Christ, redeemer; and the Spirit's life-giving presence and promise, always.
Sarah, this is the privilege of your call to the people of God at Made Up Name Lutheran Church, and beyond them to the people of God gathered in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, and beyond them to the people of God, the children of earth. You know where the bedrock lies. Your ministry journey had forged in you a depth of character and faith. So remind us, please, when the mist fogs us in. And we will remind each other, because the Spirit "calls, gathers, enlightens and sanctifies the whole Christian church on earth"--this is the Spirit's work, and we are simply the Spirit's little helpers--invited to go about it all with joy.
For everything there is a season, and time for every matter under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted; a time to mourn and a time to dance. The challenge of ministry is knowing when. When is it time to mourn? Sometimes it's obvious. Sometimes it's not. Sometimes the culture dances while the church mourns--or should. Sometimes we dance with tears in our eyes. Helping the people of God discern what time it is--and then offering a way to mark it--is one of the great challenges of ministry. But you are gifted, dear Sarah, with experience, training, a fine heart, a superb education, a prayerful spirit--and now the call of the good people of MNLC.
It's a lot--but not to worry. We've got you covered. You have been shaped by the love of your family, nurtured in the care of this congregation, goaded by the challenges of leading your peers in campus ministry, tempered in the fires of seminary and internship, hounded by the Spirit of God all along, and now welcomed into leadership, by congregation and colleague alike.
When the going gets tough, you know that the church has been there before. The people addressed by Peter's first letter were experiencing the early slings and arrows of religious discrimination and alienation. Yet out of this unstable ground, the people hear: By God's great mercy, God has given us a new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead. A new birth into a living hope, and not only that, but the "various trials" the people endured refined, purified, and strengthened their faith in God. You know this. When the going gets tough, trust digs deep.
But it's not always tough. Ministry with the people of God is an awesome privilege, and sometimes a rare delight. You get to ponder God's word, deeply. And put it out there to the congregation. You get to bake bread with little kids who make you laugh. You get to bless and bury the beloved of God. There's nothing better, if that's what you're called to. So Jesus says to you, Sarah, GO! Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the So and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. That's a lot: Go, make disciples, baptize, teach. But that's not all. Jesus' last word is remember: I am with you always, to the end of the age. Sarah, remember: Christ is with you. Remember: it is your pastoral responsibility--to yourself--to remember Christ is with you. And then proclaim it to your people, with your life and your words: Christ is with you. Always. In every season. Planting and plucking. Weeping and laughing. Tearing and sewing. Christ is with you always. To the end of the age. This is the gospel of the Lord. Thanks be to God!
For everything (turn, turn, turn)
there is a season (turn, turn, turn)
and a time for every purpose under heaven.
Qoheleth, the Preacher of Ecclesiastes, the teacher of wisdom, is the lead-off batter for our celebration today. And I must say, Sarah, you have chosen fascinating scriptural texts for our worship! Not only does the Preacher of this book sound like a tired old cynic (at first glance)--quite out of keeping with this day to honor, tremble at, and celebrate your call. But really, I'm shocked! This is not a Beatles song! Pete Seeger wrote it in the 50's, the Byrds sang it in the 60's, but the Beatles never touched it.
Now, this needs some explaining. I first met Sarah at Lutheran Campus Ministry worship, when I was campus pastor at UM. She was starting her college career in January--with her penchant for unorthodox timing--and I was delighted to have a new student come by half-way through the year. It didn't take us long to discover our common love. Well, Jesus, of course. And then The Beatles. Must have been on a road trip when the tunes got popped into the CD player. Soon I learned the depth of Sarah's devotion, and something about the workings of her mind as well: she knew--and still knows--all the lyrics to "I Am the Walrus." Now this is a very strange Beatles song and the words make no sense. How anyone could memorize them is beyond me! But Sarah has. And if you ask her nicely...you'll see.
So that started of a relationship of complexity, depth, and honesty. Not long into the semester, Sarah's boldness became apparent. Pastor Jean, she said after communion one night, this is absolutely awful communion bread. This was most certainly true. Pita bread, frozen, and nuked. Not much of an improvement on the old wafers. I have a pretty good recipe. Let me make it, OK? From then on, the sacrament of holy communion had considerably more JOY to it. Students were amazed: We've never had such good communion bread EVER! And then they felt a little guilty, for wanting the sacrament to taste good.
It does sound a little frivolous. But the students were simply following Ecclesiastes' wisdom: Go, eat your bread with enjoyment, and drink your wine with a merry heart; for God has long ago approved what you do. (x2) Read the book, and see that The Preacher (the author of Ecclesiastes) was not cynically commending the party scene--eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow you die. Not quite. We WILL all die--rich and poor, righteous and wicked alike. We will all got to Sheol, the place of the dead, and we won't take any of the fruits of our labors with us. The Preacher was a realist, who looked at life squarely, noticed that the good don't always prosper and the wicked sometimes do quite well--and then wondered like the rest of us, what's the use? And who is God, if not the One who rewards the pious and condemns the ungodly? The Preacher's conclusion was not to dance around any of this, but look life straight in the eye and say this: There is nothing better for mortals than to eat and drink and find enjoyment in their...toil. This I saw is from the hand of God, for apart from God, who can eat, or who can have enjoyment?
Did you hear it? Not simply joy in play--but also joy in work. For everything is from God, who holds it all together. Not in ways that we can see. Not in ways that are easy or pain-free. Not at all. But the Preacher of Ecclesiastes is commending to Preacher Sara--and the rest of us--a bedrock trust in God. Trust in God beyond the changes and chances of life. "Vanity" it's called in the book. The word in Hebrew means "mist" or "breeze"--something that gives life but defies being grasped, boxed, quantified, preserved.
And boy, don't we know it. Just when you think you've got it all figured out--bammo!-- something happens. Death, illness, divorce, natural disaster--who among us has not been touched? Our neighbors in Burma and China are experiencing wholesale dislocation and suffering at a horrific scale. But we are not immune. And we all need good preachers who know this. Who know the precariousness of life. Even its unfairness. Who then can remind us where the bedrock lies. Who helps the congregation remember the faithfulness of God, creator; the suffering love of Christ, redeemer; and the Spirit's life-giving presence and promise, always.
Sarah, this is the privilege of your call to the people of God at Made Up Name Lutheran Church, and beyond them to the people of God gathered in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, and beyond them to the people of God, the children of earth. You know where the bedrock lies. Your ministry journey had forged in you a depth of character and faith. So remind us, please, when the mist fogs us in. And we will remind each other, because the Spirit "calls, gathers, enlightens and sanctifies the whole Christian church on earth"--this is the Spirit's work, and we are simply the Spirit's little helpers--invited to go about it all with joy.
For everything there is a season, and time for every matter under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted; a time to mourn and a time to dance. The challenge of ministry is knowing when. When is it time to mourn? Sometimes it's obvious. Sometimes it's not. Sometimes the culture dances while the church mourns--or should. Sometimes we dance with tears in our eyes. Helping the people of God discern what time it is--and then offering a way to mark it--is one of the great challenges of ministry. But you are gifted, dear Sarah, with experience, training, a fine heart, a superb education, a prayerful spirit--and now the call of the good people of MNLC.
It's a lot--but not to worry. We've got you covered. You have been shaped by the love of your family, nurtured in the care of this congregation, goaded by the challenges of leading your peers in campus ministry, tempered in the fires of seminary and internship, hounded by the Spirit of God all along, and now welcomed into leadership, by congregation and colleague alike.
When the going gets tough, you know that the church has been there before. The people addressed by Peter's first letter were experiencing the early slings and arrows of religious discrimination and alienation. Yet out of this unstable ground, the people hear: By God's great mercy, God has given us a new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead. A new birth into a living hope, and not only that, but the "various trials" the people endured refined, purified, and strengthened their faith in God. You know this. When the going gets tough, trust digs deep.
But it's not always tough. Ministry with the people of God is an awesome privilege, and sometimes a rare delight. You get to ponder God's word, deeply. And put it out there to the congregation. You get to bake bread with little kids who make you laugh. You get to bless and bury the beloved of God. There's nothing better, if that's what you're called to. So Jesus says to you, Sarah, GO! Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the So and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. That's a lot: Go, make disciples, baptize, teach. But that's not all. Jesus' last word is remember: I am with you always, to the end of the age. Sarah, remember: Christ is with you. Remember: it is your pastoral responsibility--to yourself--to remember Christ is with you. And then proclaim it to your people, with your life and your words: Christ is with you. Always. In every season. Planting and plucking. Weeping and laughing. Tearing and sewing. Christ is with you always. To the end of the age. This is the gospel of the Lord. Thanks be to God!
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