February 10, 2022: I love the Psalms

I love the psalms. I love them because the Psalter gives eloquent and honest voice to the full range of human experience of the divine--the joys, the sorrows, the hope, the despair, the laughter, the anger. All of it is in the psalms. It is for this reason that a selection from the Psalter has always been a cornerstone of Christian worship from its earliest days.

This Sunday we go back to the beginning of the Psalter and will hear Psalm 1. "Happy are they who . . . take delight in the law of the Lord," the Psalmist writes. "They are like trees planted by streams of water, bearing fruit in due season, with leaves that do not wither."

Yet, what does it really mean to "take delight in the law of the Lord"? As good Lutherans, aren't we taught that the gospel of love displaces works of the law? Not quite. As Frederick Buechner explains with characteristic brevity and wit, the gospel of love doesn't supersede the law, but rather completes and fulfills it. In Buechner’s words:

"There are basically two kinds of law: (1) law as the way things ought to be, and (2) law as the way things are. An example of the first is ‘No Trespassing.’ An example of the second is the law of gravity.

God's law has traditionally been spelled out in terms of category no. 1, a compendium of dos and don'ts. These dos and don'ts are the work of moralists and, when obeyed, serve the useful purpose of keeping us from each other's throats. They can't make us human, but they can help keep us honest.

God's law in itself, however, comes under category no. 2 and is the work of God. It has been stated in seven words: "Whoever does not love abides in death" (1 John 3:14). Like it or not, that's how it is. If you don't believe it, you can always put it to the test just the way if you don't believe the law of gravity, you can always step out a tenth-story window." [from Wishful Thinking]

Stated differently, to take delight in the law of the Lord is nothing more and nothing less than to abide in God’s love.

February 3, 2022: Candlemas

Dear friends in Christ,

I am disheartened to report that yesterday (February 2) Punxsutawney Phil emerged from his hole and saw his shadow. According to tradition, this means we’re in for six more weeks of winter. Of course, those of us who live in New England are used to winters that seem to go on and on, so I’m not sure this is exactly a news flash.

Moreover, as Ground Hog’s Day skeptics will point out, in the 136 years these ceremonies have been held at Gobblers’ Knob, Phil’s forecasting batting average is less than forty percent. The truth is it’s anybody’s guess when the darkness of winter will yield to the light of spring.

But yesterday was much more than Ground Hog’s Day; it was also Candlemas, that day on the liturgical calendar that commemorates the Presentation of Jesus at the Temple. And for Christians, Candlemas is a time of year to remember that we have a more reliable guide in Christ than Punxsutawney Phil, and that (unlike the winter sun) the “light of Christ” never fades, even in the darkest and coldest of times.

So, what is Candlemas and why do we celebrate it on February 2? Here is the story in a nutshell:

At the time of Jesus’ birth, Jewish tradition dictated that on the fortieth day after giving birth the parents would go to the temple to present their child to the Lord. Forty days from Christmas day brings us to February 2nd, which is why we celebrate Candlemas then.

What Luke reports (Lk 2:25-40) is that when Mary and Joseph took the infant Jesus to the temple that day, the wise old man Simeon, moved by the Spirit, took the child into his arms, proclaiming: "Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace, according to your word; for my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel."

These words of Simeon's, of course, quickly became known as the nunc dimittis, the beloved canticle of “Christ’s light” that to this day is a cornerstone of evening prayer and compline. In many churches, special services are held on Candlemas in which this story of Luke is re-told and the church’s candles for the year are blessed in a ceremony featuring the eternal light of Christ.

But for me, I have another memory of Candlemas altogether. When I was a graduate student at Stanford many decades ago, our resident poet was Denise Levertov. I once had the thrill of hearing her read some of her poetry, including this little gem, called "Candlemas," in which she tries to capture the mystery of this day:

With certitude

Simeon opened

ancient arms

to infant light.

Decades

before the cross, the tomb

and the new life,

he knew

new life.

What depth

of faith he drew on,

turning illumined

towards deep night.

In these dark and cold days of winter, I hope this same light of Christ burns brightly in your home and heart. And if it is not, or has been dimming of late, I invite you to go back and re-read the story of Simeon and Anna, and allow yourself to be drawn in by its luminous simplicity.

In Christ's radiance,

Pastor Luther

January 13, 2022: A Reflection on Dr. King’s Vision of the Church

Across our nation this weekend, millions of Americans will be celebrating the life and legacy of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. King’s name has become virtually synonymous with the major achievements of the Civil Rights Movement of the 1950s and 1960s, ranging from the Montgomery bus boycotts of 1955, which led to the integration of that city’s public transportation system; to the dramatic demonstrations in Birmingham, Alabama, which exposed to the world the injustices of America’s most racially segregated city; to the March on Washington in 1963, which galvanized a nation, and played a pivotal role in leading to the passage of the 1964 Civil Rights Act and the 1965 Voting Rights Act.

It was King’s methods, of course, as much as his outcomes, that were his real gift to us. While others advocated for freedom by “any means necessary,” including violence, King resolutely refused the temptation to strike back with force, using instead the power of words and the embodiment of nonviolent resistance to achieve seemingly impossible goals. Drawing on Gandhi and the gospels in equal measure, King demonstrated what the gospel’s teaching about loving one’s enemies really looks like, and the power such love has to transform even the darkest of hearts.

Yet, King was so much more than just a civil rights leader. People tend to forget that in the last three years of his life, the focus of his work shifted from racial injustice to economic injustice more broadly considered. His work in these years culminated in the “Poor Peoples Campaign,” an ambitious effort to assemble a multiracial coalition of impoverished Americans to advocate for economic change. In these years, too, he became an outspoken critic of the Viet Nam war and of our national obsession with military power and spending.

As important as King’s legacy is in all these areas—as a champion of racial equality, in solidarity with the poor, and in opposition to war-making—he also has much to teach the church about its mission. When I served as a chaplain in elementary and secondary schools years ago, I was always struck by how few of my students knew what King’s vocation was. They could quote his “I have a dream” speech by heart, but only a handful of them would know that King’s first and primary calling was as a minister of the gospel.

My former students can be forgiven perhaps for not knowing about King’s identity as a pastor because, when you think about it, nearly all the iconic moments in King’s life story played out on a public stage rather than within the confines of Dexter Avenue Baptist Church or some other church sanctuary. The images that we most remember are of King on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial in August 1963, or sitting pensively in a Birmingham jail, or being arrested in Montgomery during the bus boycotts, or marching with other freedom fighters in Selma, or sitting at LBJ’s side in the White House as the President signed the landmark civil rights legislation of 1964. So few of the really memorable photographs of King are in the pulpit or within the four walls of a church building.

This is no accident, I think. For one of King’s core teachings is that the church is not a building, or some event that takes place on a Sunday morning. Rather, the church is you and me—the Body of Christ at work in the world. King puts it bluntly in his autobiography when he writes: “It is my conviction that any religion that professes concern for the souls of men [and women] and is not equally concerned about the slums that damn them, the economic conditions that strangle them, and the social conditions that cripple them is a spiritually moribund religion only waiting for the day to be buried.” King reminds us that our vitality as Christ’s church depends upon our willingness to engage meaningfully and consistently with the world and its problems. To be sure, we gather in church on Sundays to immerse ourselves in the Word that defines us and in the sacraments that feed us; but the real work of the Church happens on the other six days of the week. Let it be so with us at Holy Trinity.

January 6, 2022: Thank you for the walm welcome

Dear friends in Christ,

Thank you for extending me such a warm welcome this past Sunday. I loved joining you for worship and I look forward to the months ahead.

Yesterday was my first full day in the office and I was given a helpful orientation by your friendly Office Coordinator, Mark Donahue. I also had my first meeting with your bible study group, who likewise warmly welcomed me into their midst. I'm already beginning to feel at home. I hope others of you will feel free to drop by on Wednesdays for a visit or schedule an appointment.

Today is the Feast of the Epiphany, that day on the liturgical calendar when we remember the story of the magi, who were the first Gentiles to see the manifestation of the Christ Child. (The word 'epiphany' comes from the Greek word epiphaneia, which means appearance or manifestation.) The Epiphany season extends from now until Ash Wednesday, and its theme is light. I invite you to mark this day with this prayer:

O God, on this day you revealed your Son to the nations by the leading of a star. Lead us now by faith to know your presence in our lives, and bring us at last to the full vision of your glory, through your Son, Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.

I hope to see you this coming Sunday when we observe the Baptism of Christ.

Faithfully,

Pastor Luther