June 12 - Pentecost/Confirmation Sunday

I would like you to do something for me: if you’re sitting on the end of a pew, I’d like you to lean over, and look at where it rests on the floor. Is it bolted to the floor? I think it is.

It is?

Well, let me tell you a story – not about the pews, not about this church – but about the screws that hold those pews to the floor.

When the Church itself was young – when the presence of Christ was fresh in people’s memory, his breath on them, his ascension, and his promise to come again: it was a wild place.

People came in, shared a meal, shared stories of a church in which the Spirit of God was like a wild thing; it would pick people up and deposit them far from home; it would heal some, restore others, and brought faith to all people. It gave gifts to everyone it touched; gifts of healing, gifts of leadership, gifts of being able speak boldly to authority (for that is what prophecy is – divination is foretelling the future).

When the Holy Spirit moved through the church, it left seats overturned, banners waving, and it drove people out of the door to exclaim the good news of Jesus Christ. Wherever they went, the Holy Spirit went with them; it unsettled people, made a mess out of carefully ordered lives, put to shame the empty religiosity of the Roman gods.

And the church grew. With every baptism of every man, woman, and child, the Holy Spirit was poured out freshly upon the people. And the people who watched were amazed that ordinary men and women could do such things, but most of all they were amazed that those ordinary men and women were so eager to talk about their God and their faith – a task that was normally left to the priests of the temple. And some made fun of them, but even their mocking laughter could not be heard above the joy of the Spirit.

As the church grew, it became necessary for the Spirit to raise up some people as teachers, as securers and guardians of the truth; they were the first people who formed doctrine out of faith. And that was a good thing – because even the Spirit would not prevent humankind from abusing the good news of Jesus Christ; to do so would infringe upon their free will.

But those in the church knew that there is really no free will; our wills are bound to sin. So they trusted completely in Christ, and the Holy Spirit moved among them with power, and the presence of God burned as flames in their hearts.

And then, the church was old, and hundreds of years had passed. The living memory of Christ was lost, and the persecutions began to ease, the Holy Spirit still moved in the church, sending out hundreds of eager men and women, young and old, who shared dreams and brought the vision of God’s redemption to the world. It still left seats and benches overturned, and the simple meal that the community shared reminded them of Christ’s presence in their midst.

And one day, an elder in the church was approached to form a part of a new government; an appointment that would mean respectability, income assurance, and more opportunity for leisure. But, he was told, those who would employ him were uncertain of his religion. It was so messy, they told him, and they worried that the mess and uncertainty that were the hallmarks of the Spirit would be brought into their carefully ordered universe.

So the man went back to his church, and began to speak with the elders there. Not that there was anything wrong with the Holy Spirit, he said, but could we possibly secure the benches to the floor, so that when the Spirit is poured out, they stay upright?

And the elders agreed. After all, it would save on cleaning costs. So the benches (which we call pews) were bolted to the floor in churches all over the world. So it was more…respectable.

And after a while, respectability began to be the reason for the church. And the garments that signified the people of the church – the alb, pristine white for the righteousness of Christ; the stole that marked one as ‘ordained’ to serve the community; and the chasuble, worn to denote the special meal that was shared – became solely the propriety of the minister.

But the Holy Spirit still moved in the church; it was just harder to see. And as the teachings that were necessary to understand God working among the people became emptier and emptier; sacred rites became empty rituals, because the church had become the center of all that was…respectable. As people discarded old ideas of what was respectable, they came to discard the church, as well, seeing only those rituals as what marked one as belonging, as Christian.

So generations were lost. But many stayed; many who had experienced the Holy Spirit in their lives, who had lived – on the surface – quietly boring lives, they stayed in the community and devoted their time, as in the days when the church was young, to the apostles’ teaching, the breaking of bread, and prayer. But the pews remained bolted to the floor.

And they were bolted with traditionalism, ethnocentrism, boredom, and ignorance.

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So, today is Pentecost Sunday, a day when we celebrate the presence of the Holy Spirit in our midst, in this church, and it also the day of confirmation, when these 3 young people will take upon themselves the promises made for them by their parents at their baptism.

For those of you who are the parents or perhaps the baptismal sponsors of the confirmands here today – and those who have young children – did you know that you made promises before God to teach your children the Christian faith?

And let me ask you this: have you kept them? Bear in mind, I know the answer to that already.

But I’m not being judgemental; this is a day of celebration! Because today, along with these young people, the whole people of God in this place have a chance to affirm their baptism, and to experience again the presence of God in their lives.

So I urge you today to remember a few things. Just a few:

Remember that what we call ‘church’ isn’t a burden or responsibility; it’s a community, it’s a gift.

Remember this gift is always here for you: school, work, friends, nothing else will be. But wherever you go in this world, anywhere you go in this world, you will find a community who will welcome you into their midst, because you bear the name of ‘Christian’.

And remember, like every gift that is free, just because you don’t pay for it doesn’t mean it’s worthless: it’s priceless. But if you mistreat it, ignore it, or abuse it – well, we’ve already crucified Christ, I don’t expect that we’ll treat his body (which we call the church) any better. Ignore it, mistreat it, or abuse it – we will still love you. But the further you go from our midst, the darker the world around you becomes. Christ is the light of this community. Remember us, for we will remember you, and the Holy Spirit will always go with you.

But also remember that the Holy Spirit in your life does not bring you safety, prosperity, or affluence. It will bring you chaos, uncertainty, and trouble: but it will be chaos, uncertainty, and trouble in the Name of, and in the presence of, Jesus Christ.

And there is no life like it, in this world, or the next.

Remember: Christ chose you. In turn, this day, and on every day that follows – choose a community that actually means something in this world. Not a sports team or a club, but a community of people who will love you for you, wherever you go.

Let the people of God say amen.

June 5, 2011

What’s the oddest thing you’ve ever prayed for? A parking spot? I read somewhere that that is, in fact, the most often-prayed prayer in our culture. God, get me a good spot, somewhere close to the door, but not too close to where the teenagers park… In my experience, though, maybe the most often one comes in times of trouble, often phrased as God, take this away from me and I’ll be a better person. That’s the ‘barter’ prayer, when any and all things are promised if God comes through on his end.

I’ll take a minute to remind us all that the founder of our church – our own Martin Luther – took his monastic vows because he promised God he would if God but let him survive a raging thunderstorm. So, at least there’s a long and good history behind it.

Although those ‘barter’ prayers are common, they’re still not very silly, you know? I mean, I bet even atheists pray for good parking spots. They’re pretty rare.

There was a young preacher in his first parish who decided to make a point of praying always in the Name of Jesus Christ. So every time he prayer, he ended his prayer, “In the Name of Jesus Christ, amen.” Every Sunday, a little boy just sat in the front pew and smiled as he prayed. And that young preacher just thought he was doing the best job he could – he was even reaching the youngest member of the congregation!

After about six months that preacher got a surprise, though. Sitting on his desk on Sunday before church was an envelope, with “pastor” written on it in crayon. He opened it, and to his surprise found a note written in crayon, that said: Dear Pastor, you owe me a hundred dollars. Thanks.

It was from the same boy who sat in the front pew and smiled. After church the preacher stopped the boy and his dad on the way out and asked the little boy about the note. The boy proudly beamed at him and said “well, every time my daddy prays ‘Jesus Christ’ he has to give me a dollar for the swear jar. I think it’s fair if you do, too!”

So, aside from the frequency of the G-D and J-C prayers that we utter, why do we often have such a negative reaction when we’re confronted with prayers for things that we may just not think deserve a prayer?

When I was younger – seventeen or so – I was worshipping with a congregation that had a children’s message after the lessons, and after the message the children were asked if they had anything they wanted to pray for. Usually, they’d tell whichever adult was leading the talk, and then the adult would pray.

Cue me. I’m pretty confident, I grew up in a home where prayer was a relatively common practice. So this one Sunday I asked the children “what would you like to pray for?” and I was met by a sea of big, earnest, brown and blue eyes.

And a little girl stood up and walked over to me. She was holding a teddy bear by its middle, almost cradling it; it was just as cute and cute could be. And she handed that teddy bear to me and said “Teddy has a sore paw. Could you pray for him?”

So prayed for that teddy bear. I prayed that God would be with all small creatures who brought comfort, all friends who sit with us, but most of all, I prayed that Teddy would get over his sore paw.

Well, one of the matriarchs of the congregation took me aside after church that day and did her best to put the fear of – well, her – into me. “You DO NOT pray for stupid things like that bear!” She offered the invocation the next week when we dedicated a new wing that had been built on to the church. And I stood there thinking…why?

It seems that as we grow up we get a list of things in our mind that are good to pray for, especially in church. World peace, health, safety, church growth, church health, church peace…the list goes on and on. Maybe especially as Lutherans, we can get caught up in the language we grow up hearing – the elegant eloquence of the prayers used in the litany of our services.

At the church where I interned, we asked our confirmation students to pray at the beginning of each session, but most often when a student was asked they look at me plaintively and say, “but I don’t know how!”

And they look exasperated at me when I tell them that’s the perfect place to start. The best prayer to pray is one that you don’t know the words for, one that comes out from your heart and past your lips before your brain can tell you it needs to be edited.

Jesus prayed for the disciples, as he prayed on behalf of those who would come to believe in him through their word – he could have prayed those long prayers that are liturgically sound, but instead he prayed from his heart. He prayed for his friends, that they would be kept holy, protected, nurtured, and empowered with his joy.

What kind of prayers do you offer? Do you, as we are encouraged to by James, “pray without ceasing?” Or is prayer something that is done on Sundays, or before meals?

Of course, if it’s a meal at a church people always ask the pastor. After all, we do it so well. But let me tell you something.

As part of our requirements, us intern pastors have to complete a course in Clinical Pastoral Education before our internships. CPE is a hospital or care home internship, where we fulfill the role of student chaplains so we don’t mess up too badly when we get to a parish. It’s a good theory.

But sometimes a better name for it should be “place where young pastors go to get their heads chewed off.”

I interned at St Paul’s Hospital in Saskatoon. After the first couple of months I found myself with full range of the hospital – med units, ICU, emergency, you name it, I was the chaplain-at-large (no pun intended). The first thing I learned was that the Pastoral Care course I took at Seminary didn’t really compare to the real thing. Especially in Palliative or Critical care.

You see, most people don’t go to church, even if they identify themselves as Christian. They usually have the Sunday School faith complex – if I’m good God will heal me – and some, if they’ve been interested at all in the past, may have some inkling of faith. Some take the ‘strong and trusting’ stance, but most people want to pray with a chaplain – and they don’t want wimpy little ‘thy will be done’ prayers; on the whole, the chaplain should be calling down all the hosts of heaven to make them better.

So I waded into it. Out of 200 required clinical hours I filled in close to 300. I prayed holding hands, holding heads. For those who could speak I gave my language to their prayers and for those who couldn’t I gave me voice. By the end of five months I was pretty confident I could pray nearly as good as Jesus.

And having a gift of talking helped, too – no “Jesus wejus’” prayers for me – nope, I was appropriate, formal, comforting, all those things that a good chaplain should be.

And I stopped praying for all those things I thought ‘silly’.

The silence was deafening. Oh, I could still do daily devotions and still pray off the cuff in chapel, but the joy that I had found in prayer was lost.

And then one night in Saskatoon I was putting my eldest son to bed, and we say bedtime prayers. After our little bedtime prayer, I asked him,

“Is there anything you’d like to pray for, son?”

And my little boy held up froggy – a little, stuffed, gangly-legged frog that he was given all the way back when he was born.

Well, I sat on the edge of his bed and I looked at froggy for a long time. And I thought of all the people I knew who needed prayer – Erich, my friend who had been diagnosed with throat cancer, a member of the congregation we attended who had miscarried for the sixth time, a lady I had met at the hospital who couldn’t walk – no words came.

Then I thought of my life, of the promises I have been given, that I have been brought into the truth of the Gospel of Christ, that I am cared for and loved. And I thought of my little boy, whom I prayed for (and still do) daily, and about my wife who was at work so that she could go on Maternity leave when our second child was born.

I prayed for froggy, just as I had prayed for Teddy. Nobody took me aside after I came out of his room. I looked, and there’s no suggested prayer for stuffed frogs in the book of Occasional Services. It probably wasn’t liturgically sound.

It sounds silly, but at that time I found joy in prayer again, praying in the spirit and the unity that was promised so long ago by Christ.

It is very easy to get caught up in the right and proper ways of doing things – and prayer is no exception. Yet it remains a precious gift, one given to us in grace and modeled for us in Christ who prayed for us. When we pray, we are witnessing to the Father and the Son, that they are one and that we are in them – and all our concerns may rest with them and that we may find peace.

Prayer is a gift – the gift given to us by Christ, so that we may be whole and live in relationship with each and with God. It’s a gift to be cherished because, yes, we can pray for those little concerns that niggle at our minds and keep us bothered at night. We can commit those concerns to God and rest knowing we have been heard.

So pray. Pray for each other, pray for the church, pray without ceasing. Praying as a community doesn’t make the hard times disappear, but it can make them bearable, reminded that we are held in God’s love.

Sometimes you need to be careful what you pray for, yes. I read in the news about a small community in Texas that was dominated on one side of town by a fundamentalist Baptist church on one side and a roadhouse bar on the other. The roadhouse was undergoing a renovation that would double its capacity.

And members of the church did what fundamentalists do best: they protested. They promised fire, damnation, and disaster to that bar and its owners.

And the week before the grand opening, the bar was struck by lightning and burned to the ground. The church was very vocal in the community about the role they’d played in that.

So the owners of the roadhouse took them to court, citing that since they were directly responsible for the destruction of the roadhouse, they were responsible for paying out costs of reconstruction.

But the lawyers for the church argued that they had no responsibility whatsoever; it was nature, or accident.

A reported asked the judge presiding what he thought of the case. The judge replied: “I have no clue. On one hand, I have the owners of the bar who believe strongly in the power of prayer; and on the other a church who swears they don’t!”

Become like a children again – in joy, pray for anything, because Christ prays for you. He prays that we would be a community in this place, that we would be one together, as he is with the Father.

Yet remember one thing: ‘grace’ isn’t just a little prayer you say before a meal. It’s a way to live.

Let the people of God say, ‘Amen’.