An "Old" Sermon

This sermon was preached 9 years ago, when I was pretty new still at this church. I hope it's not a mistake to post it: I'll be preaching on a similar text this weekend! I remember that I was really trying to figure out how to pull everything together, and on Thursday we were at a large meeting of pastors. We sang before we ate lunch together, and that's the spark that got me going.
"Be Present At Our Table, Lord"

My first week in South Daokta I learned something about being a Host... and about being a Guest. And both at the same occasion! It was my first funeral at the little country church, and the community had turned out to pay their last respects, and also, to check out the new minister (me). Things were going pretty smoothly, I thought, as we progressed through the serivce, as we journeyed to the cemetery and back, and as i prepared to lead them through the traditional table prayer: "Be present at our Table, Lord." The tables were set, the ladies were ready with their sandwiches and their hot dishes, the family was seated, and we began with the song all Lutherans know so well:

(sings)
Be Present At Our Table, Lord,
Be Here and Everywhere Adore d
These Mercies Bless and Grant that We
May Strengthened for Thy Service Be. A-MEN

...except that they weren't singing "strengthened for thy service be." They were all singing "feast in paradise with Thee." I was leading, but they weren't followoing -- or at least, they were following, but only up to a point. And although I thought they were singing the "wrong" words at first (that is not the ones I knew and grew up with), I learned to appreciate them, and also to ALWAYS announce which ending we were using on each occasion.

This is part of being a good host, to make sure everyone knows what's going on, what the expectations are. And also, don't expect that your guests are exactly like you. ... But lately I have been wondering if there wasn't one anohter thing I learned from that Funeral Banquet and from that Song. The version I grew up with: "Strengthened for Thy Service Be" is, after all, a prayer for Hosts. It is a prayer for the ladies in their white aprons, for all those who cook and clean and paint and scrub and sweep and make things nice for other people. It is a prayer for those who organize and strive to get things right, and to make things right. Hosts pray that they will be strengthened for their service, that neither the food nor their feet will give out, that THEY will last as long as the party, and that everyone will go away pleased.

On the other hand, "Feast in Paradise with Thee" is a prayer for guests. It is a prayer for those who are sitting at the table with hot steaming dishes in front of them. It is the prayer of those who have been invited, who are hungry, who are imagining with anticipation the delicacies of fine wine, food and conversation. Most of all, it's a prayer for those who need a feast -- who are hungry and thirsty -- and maybe for many things, for food of course, but for companionship, for justice, for hope.

So -- which prayer do you prefer? The prayer for hosts? Or the prayer for guets? Do you prayer to be strengthened for service? Or do you pray to feast in paradise?

Guests and hosts, and their dealings with one another... that is what Jesus is observing in the Gospel today. He has a keen eye for details not jsut of etiquette, but of human relations. He sees guets not just concerned about what they will be served, but where they will sit, and what that will mean. He sees guets not just worried that they won't know which is their salad fork and which is their dessert fork. But he sees guests worried about their honor, and what a certian seat may mean. What if they are asked to sit next to someone who might be of lower rank than them? What would that mean? And what would it mean to not get a seat at all? If you think these sorts of concerns are dated, just go into any junior or senior high school lunchroom, where it can be very important who you sit with. There are higher and lower places in lunchrooms, and there are seats of honor and seats of less honor. There are cues that tell you that you belong or that you don't belong, that you are "cool" or you are not. And school luncherooms are not the onl place where there are assigned seats and places of honor. At picnics and potlucks, at restaurants and family dinners, and even in church pews, there are seats that signal "you belong" and places that let you know "you're a stranger."

It is this behavior and this desire of guests that Jesus observes -- and critiques. He lets people know that in the Kingdom "status" is not ranked in the same way, or belonging either. In the Kingdom a gracious guets isn't concerned about the best seat in the house, or about sitting with the "cool" people. In the Kingdom a gracious guests rejoices in the seat given, whether high or low. In the Kingdom you might end up sitting next to people who eat with chopsticks or their hands, who dress in gowns or rags, who are friends or enemies. Are you a guest who feasts in God's kingdom? Delight in the seating arrangement, then, as well as the food and the conversation.

Guests are not the only people in Jesus' field of vision, though. Jeuss observes Hosts, too, and has advice for them. He notices that they control the guests lists, making sure the right people get in, and the wrong people stay out. After all, they want to make sure the party is a success, that enemies don'tsit next to one another and make everyone uncomfortable. And they'd also like to get invited to a few good parties of their own. So they choose their guest list carefully ,just as carefully as the menu and the decorations. Any good host will tell you that the guest list is as important as the menu and decorations, too. And Jesus even agrees. His guests list just looks different than most people's. So -- are you a Host who longs to be strengthened for service in the kingdom? Keep you mind and your guest list open as you set the table...

Jesus observes that there are table manners in this world -- and that there are table manners in the Kingdom of God, too. And Jesus wants to let us know -- both guests and hosts -- that the manners acceptable in the kingdom look much different than those encountered at banquets here. Even the word "banquet" becomes transformed by Jesus. When I think of a banquet, I think of a party to which my friends, neighbors, relatives are of course invited. I don't define "banquet" as a hall full of strangers -- and of poor, blind, crippled or lame ones, at that. As a host, I of course make my guest list to include people I know and like, or people I would like to know. But for Jesus the word banquet does not mean a party for friends. For him a banquet is a celebration for strangers, a feast for the needy, a meal so abundant that no one can pay it back. Call all those other celebrations what you will -- a banquet is where the poor come to celebrate.

In watertown, South Dakota, there is a meal site called "The Banquet." They serve every Monday night at the Salvation Army, and different groups -- not just churches -- take turns preparing the food and serving whoever shows up. At the Banquet, they don't ask any questions and they don't turn anyone away. They believe that there are different kinds of hunger, and so they never ask anyone to prove that they are poor enough or needy enough to attend. When my parish prepared to serve, there were whisperings that some of the attendees were actually rather rich. We had mixed feelings about whether we were really serving needy people. But we got a team together and we made meatballs and potatoes and gravy one Monday night in February. One of the very few rules of the Banquet is that the servers must eat with those they have served. ... As I sat down to converse with an older man and a middle-aged woman, I was reminded of the time I helped served at another place called "Loaves and Fishes." I felt comfortable lading hot soup. And I felt good about pouring coffee and milk. But then the supervisor said to me -- well, actually, ordered me: "Go and sit and eat with them."

Nothing made me more uncomfortable, to sit down with people in their shabby clothes and hopelesseyes, and eat with them as if I were needy too. But it was necessary.... because I was needy too. I wasn't just a Host thatday -- I was also a Guest poor and needy and hungry too, although I hated to admit it. And I caught a glimpse of the Kingdom of God too -- the Kingdom we pray to come to us each time we pray the Lord's prayer. The best Hosts are those who know what it means to be needy, to be poor, to be hungry -- to be guests. And the best Gusts are those who have also poured coffee until their arms hurt, and cooked until their feet hurt -- and are grateful for the feast. They know how much it cost.

In this place, we are both Hosts and Guests -- and this is fitting for our Savior in whom we live and to whom we belong is also Guest and Host. Daily we pray: "Come Lord Jesus, be our Guest." Weekly we Pray: "Grace our table with your presence." Daily we serve him, invite him in to eat with us. We invite him, but we don't often recognize him as we serve him through all the guests that walk through our lives, the Salvation Army bum, the grieving widow, the young man with his hard luck story, the family struggling to make ends meet. He comes to us as a guest, just as we prayed for. But then we sit down to eat together, and we discover something else.

We pray to be strengthened for service, and we end up Feasting in Paradise. We ask him to be present at our Tables, and we even sit the table for him, but when he comes, it is His table, and He is the Host. He is the host, and he has never turned down a beggar yet.

As we gather here to feast with him, that is the best invitaiton we will ever hear, and it is the best invitation that we have to share.

Let us stand and sing together as we prepare for the "Lord's supper" -- that old table prayer, "Be present at our Table, Lord," ... and you may either sing "Feast in Paradise" or be "strengthened for service." AMEN

The Great Minnesota Get-Together

Today Husband and I spent the morning and part of the afternoon at the Minnesota State Fair. It's been kind of a tradition for the past few years, although we used to go on Labor Day when everything was winding down. We parked then in the driveway of a friend of his who lived a block away. These days we buy discount tickets and a coupon book, and use the free bus system.

I don't really know why we keep going to the fair every year, but, judging by the crowds, it seems that many other people seem to feel the same way. Even on an overcast, rainy day, there were big crowds milling around, eating cheese curds and mini donuts, anything on a stick, trying to win prizes on the Midway, listening to local folk, country, bluegrass and retro 50's bands (i.e. Gary Puckett and the Union Gap), and listening to sales pitches for new inventions and entering drawings for wonderful prizes. A lot of the booths return to same place every year, which, if the State Fair were a church, would be criticized as empty ritual. To be fair, there are always a few new displays as well -- but just a few.

We came in hungry, looking for breakfast, but had to stop in the Miracle of Birth Center, where two baby lambs had been born earlier that morning, and (so it seemed) millions of piglets. There were also fuzzy chicks and ducks to touch. This is perhaps my favorite part of the fair.

Afterwards we ate a somewhat greasy breakfast at Al's Diner (but the coffee was delicious) after which we found the Farmer's Union Building, which is very close to both the DFL and IR booths. (DFL stands for Democratic-Farmer-Labor and IR stands for Independent Republican. The Minnesota Democratic party is actually a merger with a popular third party of the 1930s -- the Farmer Labor Party. This always puzzled me as all of the farmer I knew were Republican.) There was not a lot of traffic at the party booths, this not being an election year. I saw that Al Franken has T-shirts, but they are not funny. I suppose he is trying not to be so funny. But it made me miss Paul Wellstone. I actually bought one of his T-shirts, because it was so uncommonly clever (lots of faces, I remember, with the caption "many voices, one message").

We also had to stop in at the International Bazaar, where exotic goods are sold, and take a look under the grandstand, where everything is sold. We ate Chicago dogs, onion rings and pizza, and stopped in at Heritage Square. Often they have good local talent like the bluegrass band Monroe Crossing. Once we even happened in on Riders in the Sky! But unfortunately, today it was a local comedy duo called Tina and Lena, telling jokes in a fake Norwegian accent.

We didn't quite get to all the State Fair Shrines. We did not eat mini-donuts this year, and missed the 4-H display. We didn't get to the Mighty Midway (although that has never been my favorite part of the fair). We did see the most amazing variety of T-shirts (my favorite, "cleverly disguised as a responsible adult"); we didn't eat anything on a stick this year. We don't have quite the walking stamina we once did. And we don't have as much discretionary time, either.

But I kind of miss the days of soaking my dirty, aching feet in a bucket, after a long day collecting promotional information, free pencils, keychains, fans, and informational booklets. I miss signing up for all the prizes, in those days thinking I actually had a chance to win one. I miss the thrill of actually seeing what one of my favorite radio voices looked like. I think I go, at least in part, to recapture just a little of the wonder of my childhood.

And to watch the people. That too.

Church Today

I didn't preach this morning. The Senior Pastor is back from vacation, so it was his turn. But I did have two baptisms, which I regard as visual sermons.

They were A five week old boy and a ten week old girl, both the first child in their family. One long-awaited after many years, the other to a fairly new young couple. The young wife is a child of this congregation. Her mother (new grandma) brought in a new, white baptismal gown, decorated with Hardanger embroidery. As she walked toward the front door of the church, carrying the prized gown on a small hanger, she was surrounded by a crowd of women, ooh-ing and aah-ing over the creation. Underneath the new gown, the baby girl wore another, this one 130 years old.

Part of the family drove up from Southeastern Minnesota. I asked how they were faring. "I am vaccuuming water out of my basement," said great-grandma, "but I'm not complaining. I have a house." They drove through Rushford on the way here, and "it's so sad."

The other family asked members of the congregation to serve as godparents, well-known and active members. Many friends and extended family were present for the celebrations.

After the service, the two moms commiserated about their experiences. Did he have jaundice? Did you have to go back to the hospital? I cried. Did you cry? They introduced their babies to each other, perhaps setting up a blind date for 15 years from now.

When I look at my congregation, I see a lot of white heads. We are an aging community. We have children and youth, but for some reason, in the summer season, many of our families are not as active. Some of them, at least, have cabins.

But sometimes I wonder about how well we are transmitting our faith, our living and life-giving faith, to the present and future generations. Some people think it is our liturgy that doesn't speak, or our organ music which is behind the times. Some people think it is the presence of puzzling symbols that don't speak to present generations. But I suspect it is Something Else, something I know deeply and yet can't quite put my finger on, that makes a life of faith seem optional and extra to so many, or even, at worst, deeply irrelevant.

But today I am clinging to my visual sermon: two babies at the font, dressed up as if this really were a special day. Two babies at the font, with the other children craning their necks to get a good view. Two babies, held by their parents, by our congregation, and by God.

If only they would let God hold them for their whole lives.

The Joys and Trials of...

RevDrKate over at Prairie Light tagged me (actually a few days ago) for this rather challenging meme about beliefs. I've been putting it off and thinking about it during a challenging week, and finally I'm ready to post...

Rules
1.You have to use your own belief system for the meme. No fair using someone else’s to make a joke or satire. Being humorous about your own religion is encouraged!
2.You have to have at least one joy and one trial. More are encouraged. And no, they don’t have to be equal in length, but please be honest.
3.You have to tag at least one other person. More are appreciated!
4.Please post these rules!

The joys of being a progressive, evangelical, liturgical, free church, grace-oriented midwestern Scandinavian Lutheran (Lutheran by baptism and by choice.)
1. Our tradition was born in a university; therefore, reading and studying geeks like me are welcome.
2. "Living in the tension" -- not having to deny the dark parts of life or to pretend that because I am a Christian "Now I am happy all the time."
3. "theology of the cross," God is not the "success god" but the one on the cross, not a fair weather friend, but especially present in suffering and times of trouble.
4. On well-known favorites, nothing beats a bunch of Lutherans singing hymns!
5. An ability to embrace different worship styles from different eras and traditions, and believe that the Spirit lives in them.
6. A finely honed nose for bad theology.
7. "The Freedom of a Christian."
8. Pot luck suppers.


The trials of being a progressive, evangelical, liturgical, free church, grace oriented midwestern Scandinavian Lutheran (Lutheran by baptism and by choice).

1. Most of us are "shy."
2. Having to explain Martin Luther's comments on the Jews to people (no, I don't agree with them!).
3. Most people are either liturgical or free church and think that the other way is in bad taste and not really worship.
4. "Living in the Tension." Sometimes it would be all right to be "happy all the time."
5. Very subtle sense of humor, sometimes to the point of nonexistence.
6. Martin Luther King Jr. was not the founder of our church (not that I'd mind, but someone really asked me once, "how does it feel to have the founder of your church be a black man?")
7. Lutefisk.

Cultural Friday 5

Sally over at "Revgals" says:
I have spent the week at Summer School studying the Gospel and Western culture, we have looked at art, literature, music, film and popular culture in their myriad expressions. With that in mind I bring you the cultural Friday 5.

Name a 1. Book
A challenging book was the play J.B., by Archibald MacLeish, which I read in high school. It is based on the book of Job, and it was one of the first challenges to what I believed/thought about God. There have been many inspiring books, including A Prayer for Owen Meany, Peace Like a River (Leif Enger), Blessings, (Anna Quindlan). Many others. And other challenging books as well.

2. Piece of music
There's something about Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue. I don't know what it is. Almost anything by Mozart, but especially his Requiem and and Kyrie in D Minor.

3. Work of art
Picasso's Guernica, depicting the Slaughter of the Innocents, Michaelangelo's Pieta, and, most important, the Peruvian folk art piece sitting on my desk: a depiction of many people from a village all carrying a cross on their shoulders. It's my colleague's favorite thing of mine, too.

4. Film
Babette's Feast. I've seen it several times. It always makes me cry. Not so much Babette, but the two maiden sisters, and the speech by the general near the end of the movie, when he quotes from Psalm 85, and the old pastor's words. I think I need to see it again. Also, the movie Holes. I watched it with my parents, and when I saw Stanley carry Zero up the hill, I turned to my dad and whispered, "He's breaking the curse."

5. Unusual engagement with popular culture that has helped/ challenged you on your spiritual journey.
I'm not sure about this one. Maybe the Tattoo Festival in Duluth, where I met the "Bikers for Jesus", and realized that they really ARE my people?
Possibly the cartoons of Lynda Barry, which I find both funny and deep.
I'll be cogitating on this one.

Bonus: Is engagement essential to your Christian faith, how and why?
Yes. Although, when I see all of the references others point to from popular culture (esp. movies) I realize that I'm not as good at it as I would like to be.

A Special Day

Today we had blueberry pancakes (with special blueberry syrup), turkey sausage and fresh orange juice for breakfast (and, of course, as always -- coffee). It's my husband's birthday today (I won't say which one) -- and I have church meetings all evening, so I wanted to do something special this morning. It's also his first day back at school. He teaches guitar (both private lessons and class), and music technology at a private college. He also leads a contemporary worship group.

On J's birthday today, here are some things I want to share with the world:

1. He is an accomplished classical guitarist and composer. He also plays "finger-style" acoustic guitar. My favorite of his compositions is called "Crazy Horse." He writes a lot of music for congregations as well. He has written some pieces for a jazz liturgy, and many songs and hymns in jazz, gospel and calypso styles. One of my favorites is a setting of the beatitudes to the hymn tune "Picardy."

2. He makes a mean omelet, blt and reuben sandwich.

3. He's a really good dad, and his sons are both becoming men of integrity. They are both creative as well. Son #1 plays bass, writes and is a creative graphic designer. He is also interested in current events, and was a journalism major. Son #2 plays trumpet, guitar, and mandolin, throws pots, and is planning on physical therapy. He is interested as well in environmental issues.

4. He once wrote and illustrated, and got published a humor book drawing on elements of his Norwegian heritage.

5. He likes to vaccuum, and irons his own shirts.

6. He actually likes to shop for antiques, and go to bookstores.

7. He has been a Twins fan since they first arrived in Minnesota from Washington in 1960. He knew some of the Cuban Players who had apartments here in Minneapolis. He actually watched the world series with some of them in one of their apartments. His sister also interviewed members of the team for the school paper. He admits to losing interest by 1965 because of the Beatles! He did, eventually, come back around.

8. He likes biblical theology, and archeology.

9. He likes everything I cook.

10. He thinks I am beautiful, intelligent and a good preacher and writer.

Happy birthday, honey!

The True Story of why I got yelled at by the Vet

There are two things I've been avoiding: posting last Sunday's sermon, and telling this. As of now -- one down, one to go.

A week ago Monday, a date which will live forever in infamy, we had another of our now quite common thunderstorms. It started off at about 11:00, after we had gone to bed. The first thing Scout did was get up and run down to the basement, under our futon sofa.

You see, not everyone in our house had gone to bed. Stepson and his girlfriend were downstairs watching some kind of a cartoon marathon. I got up and shouted down to keep an eye on Scout. Then I went back to bed, or tried to, anyway, with all of the crashing and booming sounds.

The next morning when I got up, the first thing I noticed was that Scout was not on her bed. "Oh well, she's sleeping with Stepson," I thought, not too worried. But then, when I headed out to the living room and looked out the front window, I noticed: Stepsons car was not there. Apparently he had decided to sleep at his mom's house.

I opened the door to the basement and there, sitting at the bottom of the stairs, tail wagging, was Scout. And behind her -- I could see even from the top of the stairs -- chaos. I didn't even want to go down there. And I didn't. I called Scout upstairs, and we called Stepson to warn him that he might want to come over and check out what Scout destroyed (or possibly ate) of his.

I was pretty sure my "dog who has always had a sensitive stomach" was going to be sick. She once ate a loaf of wheat bread (please, don't ask) and it took a long time for her to get back to normal. I also noticed that she was chewing her paws, and that when I touched them, they were kind of sticky (you know, like caramel). But I didn't really get worried until Stepson told us that it looked like she had eaten part of a hacky sack. And he was really worried about her too.

So I called the vet. I actually wasn't sure what the hacky sack was made of. I thought, like a bean bag, it had beans inside. (Actually, it had sand inside, which explains, I think, why Scout was so thirsty).

He didn't seem all that concerned, but wanted me to find out what was really inside the hacky sack, and what it was made of. That's when he asked me what Scout's diet was. And I told him about the chicken necks and thighs, and the rice, ground turkey and egg.

That's when he yelled at me. He said that the chicken necks were a greater risk than anything else. He said they could make her really sick.He said, "Would you eat those?" (I wouldn't, but I wouldn't eat kibble, myself, either.) I felt shamed and angry at the same time, and said, "Can we not talk about this right now?" He said, "Does she get any kibble at all?", to which I replied, "Yes, a little." He said she should probably not eat anything hard for a few days.

"Tell you what," I said. "I'll just give her the rice, egg and ground turkey I give her in the evening." (I happen to know that this diet is often what vets recommend to dogs who are sick.)

By now you are probably thinking as badly about me as the vet. Even though this is not a veterinary approved diet, it was not my idea. Until January, Scout was getting a special prescription food exclusively. It was a very strict diet. She couldn't eat anything else. In January, we left Scout with our trainer and took our annual trip to Phoenix. A few days into our stay, we discovered the answering machine didn't work, and that our trainer had been trying to contact us.

It seems that Scout had gotten violently ill at her house. After trying to contact us for a couple of days, and not knowing what to do, she put Scout on the diet her dogs eat. Which is the part raw food, part cooked diet that I have described. Curious, I asked her, "how is she doing?"

"Really well," she replied.

"She hasn't been sick?"

"Not at all."

(At the veterinary hospital, there are two full pages on Scout. Besides the broken leg which I have written about previously, almost everything has to do with diet. She will eat anything; she is not picky at all. But she has had problems since puppyhood finding something that agreed with her. Before the latest prescription diet, she was, at one time, down to 47 pounds. She now hovers between 57-60. Also, when she eats something she isn't supposed to, she doesn't get as violently ill as she used to.)

To be perfectly honest, I am not totally comfortable with how I am feeding Scout. The vet succeeded in making me ashamed of what I was doing. But I'm not really sure where to go from here either.

By the way, Scout is feeling much better.

Tiredly,