The Idolatry of Stuff

Luke 12:13-21

Though we don’t often like to admit it, many of us in this country are privileged to have a lot of stuff.  Oh, I’m not talking about the 1% at the top of the economic ladder.  I’m talking about those of us in the “middle class.”  Sure, we have our struggles to make ends meet.   But, if you have a roof over your head, food on your table, a car (or two) in your driveway, some money in a retirement plan and the financial ability to take a vacation now and then (even if it’s nothing exotic), then you have much more stuff than most of the people on this planet, and many, many people in this country.  If you qualify, then Jesus’ parable of the “Rich Fool” in this week’s Gospel reading is for you.

Jesus’ parable does not condemn the rich fool for having stuff.  No.  Instead, Jesus considers this man a “fool” because of the way he thinks about and uses his stuff.   His stuff has come to define his life.   He clings to it for security and meaning.   It has become the center of his concern.  In short, his stuff has become idols.  It has taken the place of the God.    In the end, his stuff leaves him so anxious, he has to tell himself to relax.  His entire internal monologue about protecting his stuff reflects his uncertainty and his fear.

It is easy for us to say “not I” when we read a parable like this.   But, I think there is probably a little Rich Fool in most of us.  How could that not be true?   This man’s false wisdom is peddled in our culture every day.  We practically breathe it in with the air.  We are told that if we don’t have the right stuff,  we won’t measure up.   We are told that we need to be anxious and fearful and protective.   We are applauded for putting ourselves first.   We succumb to this kind of thinking in our individual lives and yes, even in our churches.  And Jesus says, “You fools.”

So, as disciples of Jesus Christ, how are we to think of our stuff?   The answer is best summed up in a cliché:  “We are blessed to be a blessing.”   Or, as Jesus teaches:  We discover life when we learn how to give our lives away.   We experience true abundance when we use our abundance for the sake of others.   As disciples, Jesus expects us to steward EVERYTHING we possess from our 401Ks to our next breath for his glory and in his service.  

I just spent the last three days at the “Domestic Mission Review Table” in Chicago, discussing renewal grants for congregations across the ELCA.   I was deeply impressed by the care-full, diligent and hard work our Directors of Evangelical Mission and Churchwide staff put into considering and distributing these grants to support mission and ministry across Christ’s Church.  Even more, I was overwhelmed by the amazing ministry going on in the congregations that make up the ELCA.  Many of the congregations we heard about are small and struggling, and yet, they are emptying their barns by reaching out to their communities, renewing their worship life and enriching their discipleship by living out the Gospel of Jesus Christ in creative ways.   “This,”  I thought, “Is what Jesus wants us to be about! These congregations are striving to live God’s abundance!”  Would that we all had the courage and the wisdom to do the same!

Peace,

Bishop Mike.

Thanks for reading!

Teach us to Pray

Pentecost 10

Luke 11:1-13

Prayer has always been a part of my life.  As a very young child, I remember saying my bedtime prayers with my mother.  She would come and sit on the side of my bed and we would say “Now I lay me down to sleep…”  and then recite a German prayer, “Ich bin klein, mein Herz ist rein.  Soll niemand drin wohnen als Jesus allein.”  (Translation:  “I am small, my heart is pure.  Nobody may dwell in here but Jesus.”)   We prayed “Come Lord Jesus, be our guest…” at mealtimes.   Through those simple childhood prayers, I not only learned the importance of being in regular conversation with my Lord, but also learned some of the most basic tenets of my faith.  

As I got older, I learned to pray in other ways.  We still recited prayers, some of them ancient, that shaped my faith and my life, but I also learned how to share what was on my heart and mind with God.   In college and seminary I discovered the beauty and power of the Psalms, the prayer book of ancient Israel.   Someone once said that the Psalms expressed the whole breadth and depth of human emotion before God.  I believe that’s true.  The Psalms confess and claim confidence in God’s steadfast love in the best and the worst of times.   Early in my pastoral ministry, I discovered the richness of silence and meditation.  I learned how to listen, not just ask.  I learned how to attend to the presence of God, not just ask God to attend to me and my requests. 

In this week’s reading, a disciple asks Jesus how to pray.  In response, Jesus teaches the disciples what the Church has come to call the “Lord’s Prayer.”  What a gift!  Like my childhood prayers, it both teaches the faith and shapes our ongoing conversation with God.  It provides both words to use in approaching God and an agenda for our praying.  The prayer both reminds us of the blessings of God, and the strength of God’s steadfast love when we come up against the brokenness of life. 

Today, prayer continues to be the bedrock of my relationship with God.  My morning prayer time, including the regular recitation of the Lord’s Prayer, anchors my day in God’s grace and love.  “Practicing the presence of God” throughout the day reminds me of who I am and whose I am even in the midst of the busy-ness of life  (I admit, not an easy discipline, and one I fail at often).  Prayer is a practice in relationship, and, like all human relationships, is never something you fully master or perfect.

I encourage you to keep practicing the presence of God in your life.  Sit and listen.  Share your heart and your mind with your Creator.  In childlike innocence, open yourself to dwell in the steadfast love and mercy of the One who always dwells in, and around you, both now and forever.  

Peace,

Bishop Mike. 

Thanks for reading!

Unexpected Neighbors

Eighth Sunday after Pentecost

Luke 10:25-37

“And, just who is my neighbor?”  The lawyer asked Jesus after they both agreed that the love of neighbor, along with the love of God, lay at the heart of the Torah.   In response, Jesus tells the story of an unexpected neighbor:  a Samaritan who shows mercy to a man who was robbed and beaten and thrown into a ditch on the dangerous road from Jerusalem to Jericho.   Samaritans and Judeans did not like each other very much.  Theirs was a complicated and difficult relationship characterized by distrust, negative stereotypes and impermeable social boundaries.   Given the picture most Judeans had of Samaritans, I would guess the lawyer doubted that a Samaritan could actually behave like that!  Jesus’ story, no doubt, challenged the lawyer to think about Samaritans…  and neighbors…  in a whole new way.

“And, just who is my neighbor?”  The question is just as pertinent today as it was in the First Century.  If Jesus were to retell the story of the merciful Samaritan today, who would he put in the place of the “unexpected neighbor?”   A Syrian refugee, perhaps?  Or maybe an undocumented immigrant?  Or a young, African-Descent man?   Someone from the LGBTQ community?   The list could go on.   But, I think Jesus’ point is clear.  A “neighbor” is not just someone who looks, acts, believes or thinks like we do.   A “neighbor” is another human being.  Period.   According to Jesus, being a “neighbor” is not defined by geography or affinity, it is defined by relationship:  a relationship of compassion and mercy that transcends the usual stereotypes and labels we human beings use to divide up and judge one another.

“Go and do likewise.”  Jesus tells the lawyer.  Too often, I have heard people say that the church needs to stay out of “public” issues and stick to “spiritual” ones.  But here, and in other places, Jesus commands us, as his disciples, to care about those in need – in physical, not just “spiritual” ways.  The Samaritan didn’t just pray for the man in the ditch.  He tended to his needs, and paid for the innkeeper to do the same.   He didn’t just walk on by in a cloud of religious piety.  He took a risk, jumped into the ditch and got his hands dirty.

“Go and do likewise.”  Jesus tells the lawyer.  I wonder, who are the neighbors laying in the ditches in your community who need you to jump in with the compassion of Jesus?   Even more, who are those unexpected neighbors – those people around you that you or others might have written off as worthless “Samaritans” -- who may have a thing or two to teach you about what it means to be a neighbor?

Peace,

Bishop Mike

Thanks for reading!

Along the Road

Seventh Sunday after Pentecost

Luke 10:1-11, 16-20

In my role as bishop, I log approximately 30,000 miles a year behind the wheel of the synod car or my RV (my infamous “Turtle”).   Unlike many (most?), I have always enjoyed being on the road.   During college, my summer job took me on the road all over the upper Midwest.  During my campus ministry days, I had a reputation for being one who often drove to events, programs and meetings rather than fly.  Not only do I find the time behind the wheel great for pondering and prayer, but I love seeing new places and meeting new people.  The ever-changing diversity of God’s world is endlessly fascinating – even as I traverse roads I have been down before!   No trip is ever exactly like the one before it.  Sure, there are challenges to meet, and unfriendly people to endure and break-downs to deal with (thank God for AAA) but that’s part of the learning that takes place when you’re on the road.

In the New Testament, Christian life is never about staying home.  Being a disciple is always about being “on the way” proclaiming the Reign of God, caring for those in need, and sitting at table with those who welcome us.   Jesus is always sending his followers out to do his work in the world.  As he sends us out, it is important to remember that the sending is not just about giving, but about receiving.  It is not about being self-reliant, but about relying on the hospitality and generosity of others.  It is not about building up ourselves, but about giving ourselves away.  It is not about finding security, but about daring to risk loving and serving in the Way of Jesus. 

As Jesus commissions the seventy to go and prepare the way for him, he is clear that their work will not always be easy.  There are wolves along the road.  Not everyone will be welcoming and hospitable.  There will be times when our efforts and our words will be rejected.   But we shouldn’t let that deter us from doing the Gospel work Jesus has sent us to do.   After all, Jesus promises to see us through to our destination, and that his Word will not return empty.

Through the Holy Spirit, Jesus is still sending us out to proclaim the Reign of God, care for those in need and to sit at table with our friends, our neighbors, our communities, and the world God loves.   Where is he sending you?  As you respond to that call, remember Jesus’ advice: travel light, stay focused and don’t be surprised when God meets you in those you meet along the road.

Peace,

Bishop Mike