Keep it simple, silly

Proper 23

Collect: Lord, we pray that your grace may always precede and follow us, that we may continually be given to good works; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.

    Job 23:1-9, 16-17 “Oh that I knew where I might find (God)”

    Psalm 22:1-15 “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

  or

    Amos 5:6-7, 10-15 “Seek good and not evil, that you might live ...”

    Psalm 90:12-17 “Show your servants your works,  and your splendor to their children”

    Hebrews 4:12-16 “... let us hold fast to our confession …”

    Mark 10:17-31 “... What must I do to inherit eternal life?”

Give ear O heavens, and I will speak; let the earth hear the words of my mouth, for I will proclaim the Name of the LORD, and ascribe greatness to our God. Dt. 32:1ff

I don’t generally title my sermons, but if I were going to put a title on today’s sermon (something a bit more descriptive than PROPER 23B, my title today would simply be: KEEP IT SIMPLE, SILLY.

And why not?

We humans do like to complicate things, don’t we? 

Is Jesus God or man? Yes. 

Is God one or three? Yes. 

Is this bread and wine or Body and Blood? Yes.

Are we saved or do we need to be saved? Yes.

We struggle in part, I think, because Jesus tended to keep things so simple, so real, that what we strive to do is tame the heck out of what Jesus said and did. We are threatened by his plain, simple, direct call to live differently.

Look at today’s Gospel, for instance. A young man runs up to Jesus, falls on his knees, and asks, “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?”

Jesus does what most Rabbis in his day would do. He stops, listens, and responds, not with an answer, but with a question of his own. “Why do you call me good?” he asks. “Only God is good.”

Jesus keeps it simple by keeping it real. Many of us would be caught up in the flattery of the moment. Who doesn’t like to be complimented? Who doesn’t like to be fawned over? Maybe not a lot, but a little. The down side of flattery, of course, is you wonder, What are they after? Is it real, or are they after something?

Jesus wants to keep it real. Jesus wants to keep it simple. If you want someone’s attention, we flatter them, so the Bible warns us to watch out for people with itching ears, eager to hear you tell them what they want to hear. They’re not interested in the truth, but in their own egos. (2 Tim. 4:3 paraphrased)

Jesus knows the human heart, so he says, “Let’s keep it simple; only God is good.”

“In the beginning when God was creating the heavens and the earth, it was God who identified what was good; God is the source of all that is good. So let’s start there.

“Let’s keep it simple, silly. Let’s dump the flattery and get back to your question: “What must I do to inherit eternal life?”

Jesus answers that question with another question: “You know the Commands, don’t you, about lying, cheating, stealing, killing, adultery, and so on?”

Jesus knows this young man is a fellow Jew, a child of Abraham, a student of Torah, just like Jesus is and was, just like those who followed him, including his disciples. So it is a little strange that this young man would ask the question. If you know who you are, or who's you are, why would you ask?

It has always amazed me in my life and ministry just how often people will say things like, “I hope I’m going to heaven,” or “I hope I’ve been good enough,” or “I hope God will forgive me for things of which I am too ashamed to say.”

Like this young Jewish man, we are children of God, baptized, students of the Bible, children of Abraham through Christ, people who have received Jesus as Savior and Lord. We have everything this young man has, and yet, like him, perhaps we find ourselves wondering, too. Maybe not today, but sometimes. 

My faith comes and goes over time.  Sometimes I’m a Hobbit, sometimes an Orc. Sometimes an Elf; sometimes a Troll. Most of the time I am a mix of all things. So I’m glad to see this young man run up and ask the question I’m often too scared to ask: What must I do to inherit eternal life?

Again, Jesus keeps it simple, keeps it grounded in the faith: “You know the rules, don’t you?”

It’s a simple question; it’s the same question the Lawyer asked Jesus (in Luke), which gave us the Good Samaritan story. “What must I do?” 

“Jesus says, “What’s the Bible say? How do you read it?”

“Love God with all your heart, soul, strength, and mind; and love neighbor as yourself.”

“Cool. Do that and you’ll be fine.”

So simple … at least until you ask, “Who is my neighbor?”

And Jesus keeps that simple, too, with the Priest, Levite, and Samaritan: “Love the one you’d rather be dead than have them touch you.” I mean, anyone can love the Priest and Levite. Even if they pass you by, they must have their reasons; that’s reasonable and forgivable. But the ICK FACTOR guy; him? Yes, him. Simple!

So Jesus asks the young man, and through him, Jesus asks us: “Do you know the rules?”

“Yes, of course,” he says. “I have followed them since the beginning; from the beginning I have lived by the rules.”

And here’s the Good News. Jesus looks at the young man, and Jesus looks at us, and “Jesus loved him; Jesus loves us.”

Jesus keeps it simple, silly. Jesus keeps it grounded, down to earth, as basic as that: I love you!

I should note here that when we see the word INHERIT, it doesn’t mean the future. It refers to having a share in what Jesus has. Like in the story of the Prodigal son, the young man wants his share of the estate. He doesn’t need his father to drop dead; he just wants an advance, which his father gives him.

So THIS young man is asking Jesus, not so much: How do I get to heaven? But how can I have a share in what you have?

He sees something in Jesus that he wants, and I think one reason we gather here week in and week out is because we, too, want to have what Jesus has. 

Church isn’t Fire Insurance, or even Life Insurance. Rather, “we believe that God is healing and restoring the world, and that we are recipients of and participants in that healing and restoration.” (Mission Statement, St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Mount Vernon, WA)

So we want to have what Jesus has. Jesus loved the young man; Jesus loves us, and in answer to the question of the day, Jesus says, “Sell everything you’ve got; give to the poor, and then come follow me.”

We know how that went, don't we? His face fell off, and he went away, literally “grieving” (for he was very well-off). 

Now, I'm tempted to tame this passage. None of us here considers themselves rich. Rich is comparative. Rich is Elon Musk, or Jeff Bezos, or Bill Gates. That’s not us, but let’s not get lost in the weeds. Let’s keep it simple. In our world, in our time, amongst 7 billion people, we are rich, you and I. We are. It’s not a feeling; it’s an objective reality, so let’s not try to sugar-coat the Gospel.

Let’s be careful and let’s not try to tame this passage. God is not a Lion to be tamed.

We want to say Jesus didn’t mean it, or he was obviously exaggerating, or something like that. And certainly there is hyperbole involved. Yes, he may very well have been exaggerating, but we’ll never know, because the young man didn’t stick around to ask him: What on earth do you mean by that?

I think Jesus would have said, “It’s not a question of what you have, but what you do. Moses says (Dt. 15:7): “If there is among you anyone in need, do not be hard-hearted or tight-fisted toward your needy neighbor.” 

And Isaiah says, “Share your bread with the hungry, bring the homeless poor into your homes, and when you see someone naked, cover them up …” (58:7).

Are you nervous yet? 

Jesus says, “Keep it simple, silly. If you want your share of eternal life, let go of what’s got you stuck. 

Maybe you’re a tight-wad. Let it go. 

Maybe you’ve got resentments. Let them go. 

Maybe you hate the poor – you see them as a drain on society. So what? God sends us to help them.  We are God’s hands and feet and eyes and ears … and heart!

Maybe you're jealous of the rich and powerful! They’re easy to hate, but they answer to God, not to us, so ignore the Nimrods. 

Maybe you’re not feeling as loved as you need to feel? So get out there and find ways to love your neighbor! It really is as simple as that!”

Eternal life isn’t just pie in the sky in the great by and by. It’s right here, right now. Your job, my job, our job is to figure out for ourselves just what on earth is holding us back, and let it go.

You know, in AA and other 12 Step groups, they say there is only one thing one needs to do if they want to experience the life of freedom that those in recovery have discovered. There is only one thing folks need to change.

What is that one thing? Everything.

If we want life to change, just change everything, and it will be different.

“You can try threading a camel through the eye of a needle,” says Jesus, “but you’ll probably die laughing.” 

So keep it simple, silly. Let go, and let God – and eternal life will be yours, and ours, right here, right now. It really is that simple.

Sermon delivered to Christ Episcopal Church (Anacortes, WA) 10/13/2024 – The Rev. Keith Axberg, Ret.

Leaves of Gold, Joints of Rust

 

"Since there will never cease to be some in need on earth, I therefore command you, ‘Open your hand to the poor and needy neighbor in the land.’” Deuteronomy 15:11

The leaves are falling. Slowly, but surely, they’re making their descent from the limbs and branches of the trees and shrubs in our yard and in the world around us.

There’s a side of me that would like them all to drop before going out and doing my fall “cleanup,” but I am at the age where tackling life a day at a time is a bit easier and (possibly) wiser. So each day the little lady and I go out into the yard and scrape up a few leaves, digging them out of the cracks and crevasses of the walls that terrace our yard. We pull the weeds that dare to grow within an arm’s length of those retaining walls, and generally try to just keep the yard presentable for passers-by.

We don’t do as much yard-work as we would like to (using the term “we” quite loosely). Our property is fairly large, but the lingering effects of our bouts with Covid several years ago and the increasing numbers of trips around the sun have both taken their toll. That’s OK, though. We’re both ambulatory, for the most part. It just takes a little longer to do some things, and I still prefer weeds to grow knee high so I don’t have to reach down so far to pull them.

Fortunately, we have a couple of young lads that do the lion’s share of work around the yard. They’re young, strong, nimble, quick, alert, attentive to details, and dependable. On top of all that, they enjoy doing the work they do! Consequently, I find it a joy to pay them for their labor, and pay them well.

I don’t say that to brag or to boast. Paying people a decent wage is nothing to boast about. In fact, it is a pleasure, an honor, and a privilege to be able to share some of the shekels & ducats that have come our way over the years. 

“A laborer is worthy of his hire,” says the Bible (1 Tim 5:18). Elsewhere, Jesus tells the story of the landowner who makes sure everyone in the community has an opportunity to labor in his field, and he makes sure each receives a proper wage. I don’t usually do biblical exposition in these columns, but will say the point of that story is the welfare of the community. 

The laborers do their work and the landowner provides from out of his purse that which is needed to strengthen and support the community. The workers don’t have to pry the coins from his cold dead fingers. He opens his hands and freely shares with everyone, just like the Bible tells him to, just like his heart tells him to!

Jesus is also clear, of course, that we need to be careful about not parading our piety around to be seen by others, or to have our backs patted by others, so it is certainly with some fear and trepidation that I even tell you what I do. But I also think we each lead by example. It’s important to not just “talk the talk” but to “walk the walk,”  if you’ll pardon the cliche.

Amy-Jill Levine, in her book “short stories by jesus” [sic] reminds her readers (p. 236) that “Jesus is neither a Marxist nor a capitalist. Rather, he is both an idealist and a pragmatist. His focus is often less directly on ‘good news to the poor’ than on ‘responsibility of the rich.’”

Few of us feel “rich,” and yet in a world of seven or eight billion people, we Americans are very rich. We don’t need to squander what we have, but neither should we live in miserly fear.

“Thoughts and Prayers” for the world around us is just meaningless noise. “Strengthen the hands that are slack; make firm the tottering knees! Say to the anxious of heart, ‘Be strong, fear not; Behold your God!’” (Isaiah 35:3) Now THAT is a biblical prayer!

I believe those who are generous of heart have beheld God. More than that, they’ve given the poor a chance to see and know God through their actions, as well. God, as they say, loves a cheerful giver, so cheer up you here in this, our valley!

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)

Life is a web of intrigue

 

"Laws are like spider’s webs: if some poor weak creature come [sic] up against them, it is caught; but a bigger one can break through and get away." Solon of Athens (ca. 640 BCE)

The season of the spiders is upon us. The weather’s turned chilly, so creepy crawly things are making their way inside to take up residence. If I can catch them, I try to put them outside first; after all, it isn’t their fault they’re coming in out of the weather. We all do that!

I used to be deathly afraid of spiders. I still remember putting on my shoes for school one morning eons ago, and just as I picked up one of my tennies, this huge hairy scary spider leapt out of it, up onto the tongue, seemingly wondering just what I thought I was doing disturbing their home. It gave me such a fright that I still, to this day, shake my shoes out before putting them on.

As I recall I let out a very unmanly scream (I think I was about ten or twelve years old), flung the shoe away at something approaching light speed, and discovered that spiders are somewhat like china. You know, you have a set of china sitting on a table, and if you whip the tablecloth away quickly enough, the china stays put. Well, so did the spider.

Fortunately, by then my arms and legs had become cartoonish wheels, making a whirling dervish of their owner, and by the time I slowed down enough to avoid coming totally apart at the seams, the spider had made its way from this human twister, to finding a new, dark, and quiet place in which to go spin itself a fresh web.

I’m less frightened of spiders now. I exercise due care and caution around them, but I still experience a jolt of adrenaline when I find myself walking through a web strung between a couple of bushes or trees outside. 

But rather than freezing in terror, I find myself looking at the intricacies of those arachnid belay lines and wonder to myself, “How on earth did they get this web strung horizontally between two trees, that many feet apart? Do they lick their little paws, hold them up to test the wind, and let fly with a web when the wind is going their way? Do they stick one end of the web to a branch and go all Tarzan, yodeling from one tree to the next?” 

I guess it doesn’t matter, but it’s asking questions that intrigue me these days. I think we often underestimate the importance of questions. When we’re children, we’re curious about the world. We touch, feel, and taste everything within reach and learn quite quickly what hurts, tastes, or smells yucky. As we get older, we ask fewer questions. That’s too bad. 

I ask questions more and more in my dotage. Some are quite challenging, like why did I go into the kitchen or out to the garage. Others simply spark my curiosity about life, and nature, and why things are the way they are.

Questions no longer frighten me. As a student, I was always afraid I’d get answers wrong. Sometimes my fear was well-founded. But life isn’t about having all the right answers, but asking the right questions, and working together to find our way forward. We need not fear the questions, nor need we fear the answers. We only have to trust that the answers will reveal themselves if we keep our eyes and ears open.

In the end, it is enough to delight in the intricacies of nature, and marvel at the world around us. Just watch out for webs, though. It’s the season of the spiders here in this, our valley.

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)

Ensuring Domestic Tranquility

"Half of the harm that is done in this world is due to people who want to feel important." T.S. Eliot

I would love to think I am an observant person, but I know I am not. At least not by nature. I can pay attention when I want to. I am punctilious when it comes to finances and balancing my checkbook. I once had a parishioner who was a retired banker. 

He said, “When I worked at the bank, every teller had to balance out at the end of the day to the penny. Now if they’re within ten bucks, they’re satisfied.” 

It drove him nuts. It would bug me no end, too. It isn’t that I am perfect. Far from it. But if there is an error, I like to know where it is. I don’t mind correcting mistakes, and am always perplexed by folks who cannot admit to their own errors or limitations. There’s nothing wrong with being human.

Being human means we don’t know everything. I sometimes mis-speak. I sometimes lose my place. I was covering for our priest last Sunday while he was away, and as I was engaged in conducting the Mass, I lost my place. I’ve been doing this for forty years, but suddenly, my mind wandered for a split second as I elevated either the bread or the wine, and as I set it back on the altar, closing my eyes whilst reverencing God, I found myself lost in the mystery of it all. 

I opened my eyes and that etch-a-sketch I call my brain was blank! I looked at the altar missal and couldn’t remember if I had lifted the bread or the wine. I couldn’t remember if I had been reciting the prayer from the left or the right hand page or from which paragraph I’d been working, or where on the page I’d been reading!  I was flummoxed, baffled, and bewildered.

Bewildered. What a wonderful word. I was lost in the wilds of our worship. I was also thoroughly embarrassed to have this many years of experience and to find myself so lost in the liturgy, even if only for a moment. Swallowing my pride, I simply picked up where I’m sure I left off, and “got ‘er done, dude” as the Duke might have phrased it.

Life goes on. I don’t know of anyone who wants to see perfection in their neighbor. Those who act perfect are truly acting. Those who look so sharp or lovely on the outside are often just as goofed up on the inside as the rest of us mere mortals. 

Humility isn’t about being “less than,” of course. It is about being “right sized” (as a friend explains it). Maybe I can’t do everything, but I can do something. I can’t do everything perfectly, but I can do what I can do to the best of my ability. Humility, it is said, is not about mediocrity. It is somewhat ironic that both pride and humility, properly understood, are about feeling good with the results of what one has done. We don’t want to confuse pride with arrogance, nor do we want to confuse humility with worthlessness. 

Sometimes people wonder what God’s plan for them is. I’ll admit I don’t belong to that school of thought. I don’t believe God has a specific plan written up for each and every one of us. I don’t believe God works that way. I believe God is sometimes absolutely shocked by some of the things we say and do to one another. 

I do not believe God witnesses domestic abuse, children and teachers shot and killed in school, hostages murdered by terrorists, and assorted acts of genocide, famine, and warfare taking place across this globe, and then responding, “Right on time. I love it when a plan comes together.”

What I do believe is that we are created in the image of the Divine, called to love and care for one another and the planet we inhabit, and work to relieve suffering, ensure domestic tranquility, strive for justice, and leave the earth a better place than when we arrived. IF there is a “God’s plan,” then I would suggest that might be it.

Of course, that’s just my humble opinion here in this, our valley.

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)

The Far better thing we do

 

"Cruelty cannot stop the earth’s heart from beating" Evelyn Coleman

I do not make it a habit of pontificating from this column. Life is tough and divisive enough; I really want this space to be an oasis of safety and calm. I want it to be a ray of sunshine when things are gloomy, or a drop of oil when life gets squeaky. Anyone who reads my column can probably figure which way I lean in terms of politics and religion, although if we sat down and chatted over a cup of coffee or tea, I suspect there would be some surprises to be had on both fronts. 

I began writing these little “faith and value” columns in 2007 when the editor of the Madera Tribune (in California) asked me if I wouldn’t do something like that for his readers. I’d never had trouble expressing my faith and perspective to the folks in the churches I’d served, but I wasn’t sure how to approach the task of speaking to a wider, more diverse audience. I'm thankful that Suzanne and the Madisonian have allowed me to continue sharing these thoughts here.

I was (and am) an evangelical at heart, by which I mean one who shares good news. I am saddened by those who use the term evangelical to sell their religion or God. The heart of the Good News (as I see it) is this: God loves. Period. Full stop.

God loves creation; creation is diverse; God loves diversity. God loves humanity; God loves you (and me) in all our diversity and weirdness. Why? Because God loves. Period. Full stop.

My goal for these past seventeen years of writing columns on a weekly or biweekly basis has been to share some of the silly things I see and experience in life. They’re generally situations that teach me something about God and/or our lives together. 

I have a somewhat offbeat sense of humor that can be grating for some. I had one parishioner who particularly objected to either the sound of my voice or the content of my preaching – and yes, it bothered me, but do you know what? God loves her, just as God loves me. We are both part of that whacky family God put on earth to take care of one another, so we did, and we do.

So I share my thoughts and insights as best I can, keeping them relatively general, but applicable for the most part. One may find themselves changing their mind about something every now and then, but my goal isn’t to change minds, but to invite folks to join me as I turn over some of the rocks I stumble over, and explore, with fascination, some of the wildlife we see scurrying out from under those dark and damp places.

If there is a change I would like to see in the world, it isn’t for everyone to look, act, feel, and think like me, but for folks to simply be a little kinder and gentler when dealing with one another. None of us knows what another person is going through, so why not extend them a bit of grace, even if they’re behavior is weird?

The one place I do draw the line is with rudeness or cruelty. One can be having a terrible, no good, horrible day and still dance to the tune of their better angels. 

Abuse is a choice. Rude is a choice. Violence is a choice. Lying is a choice. Stealing is a choice. So are their counterparts. Compassion is a choice. Politeness is a choice. Peace is a choice. Truth-telling is a choice. Honesty is a choice.

Very few of us will ever have to make the ultimate sacrifice for things we truly believe in, but sometimes it is enough to just do the little things that make a difference for the world around us. Those little things add up. While I’m not in any hurry to get there, I want to go to my grave with that wonderful line from Charles Dickens: “It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest I go to than I have ever known.”

The far better thing for me is love; God’s love. Peace; God’s peace. Kindness; God’s kindness. I truly thank you for joining me as we continue this journey together here in this, our valley.

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)

To whom should we turn?

Proper 16, Year B Sermon: To whom should we turn?

Grant, O merciful God, that your Church, being gathered together in unity by your Holy Spirit, may show forth your power among all peoples, to the glory of your Name; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Joshua 24:1-2a,14-18 “As for me and my household, we will serve the LORD.”

Psalm 34:15-22 “The LORD is near the brokenhearted …”

Ephesians 6:10-20 “Put on the whole armor of God …”

John 6:56-69 “It is the Spirit that gives life.”

It’s good to be home. I know this isn’t our home parish (not officially, anyway), but for 40+ years, whenever Barb and I have come back to Federal Way to visit, this is where we’ve come to worship and, on occasion, celebrate the Holy Eucharist with you.

We’re living in Mount Vernon now, having retired and settled there some 7 years ago, and although she can’t be with us this morning, I was so pleased when Terry Elofson invited us to come and be with you this morning.

Episcopalians are called people of the Book. People of the Book. Sometimes I think we should be called people of the library, because it’s not unusual to see prayer books and hymnals and song books and books of alternative services and bibles in our pews. We can’t help it. 

Our is a tangible faith. Earthy. Touchy. The things we do as clergy are called Manual acts. Holding the Gospel as we process. Lifting the bread at the altar, and the alms, and the wine. We ring bells and in some places we add in the smells. We stand, sit, kneel. Our faith is triune: Spirit, Soul, AND Body.

Every place has the way it does things. We’re not idol worshipers, but we also don’t want to see our furniture moved too much, or the liturgy changed too much, or too many unfamiliar hymns added to the mix, do we?

We love our scriptures, although we probably don’t memorize them like some folks do. And yet I’ll bet each of us here has a favorite verse or two we can draw on if we need it. What are some of your favorite passages?

(Let people share their favorites)

As you might guess, I’ve got a few favorites, too.

In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth …

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want …

    For God so loved the world …

    The wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life …

    A couple of my favorites are in the lessons for today.

In the first reading, Joshua says, “... as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.”

What’s that all about? 

The children of Israel have reached the banks of the Jordan River. They have spent 40 years in the wilderness. The generation that left Egypt has died away for all intents and purposes, and the people are ready to move into the Promised Land.

But do you know what? When you look through their backpacks, their carry-ons, suitcases, and bedrolls, they’ve hung onto their family heirlooms. They’ve kept their gods. They haven’t really given up the past.

You know, we don’t give up the past, really. We don’t turn our backs on it. But our past tends to hang onto us. 

Joshua says, “We’ve got a choice to make. YHWH says we can hang onto those chains we dragged out of Egypt and return to slavery, or we can move forward, and experience a life of freedom, and peace; a land so rich and full that our neighbors can eat off the gleanings from our fields.

This is a struggle we all have. It doesn’t matter how great or horrible the past has been. We want to hang onto it. Sometimes there’s sentimental value there, but sometimes there are painful memories we just can’t let go. People who’ve hurt us, or let us down. 

Joshua says, “You can hang onto those, if you wish. Just remember they will be the master, and you will be the slave, and you will never know what Adonai has in store for you. As for me and my household, we’re going to let go and let God.”

I think that’s an important verse for churches in transition, but really, it’s for all of us. I like Joshua’s invitation. “Do what you want, but for me, let’s see what God has in store.” It’s forward looking; it’s hopeful.

The other passage that strikes me is the line from Peter in the Gospel. Jesus has hit a snag in his ministry and many of his followers were deserting him. Jesus asks the Twelve: “How about you? Are you going to abandon me, too?”

I don’t know if we realize just how profound a question that is. I don’t know of anything more terrifying or harmful to the human psyche than what happens when we are abandoned. 

I was 9 years old when I came home from school and asked my brother where Mom was. He said, “She’s not here. She’s gone.” 

“What do you mean she’s gone?” I asked, and he said, “She’s left. Mom and Dad are getting a divorce.”

I’d had no inkling our biological mother would abandon the family without saying good-bye. I assumed it was all my fault, of course, because that’s what we do; that’s what kids do. “In the absence of information, children will always fill in that blank to their own detriment,” says John Bradshaw, a family therapist and author.

So when I see Jesus ask the question, “Will you leave me, too?” That’s heartbreaking, isn’t it? 

And in that scary, heart-breaking moment, Peter pipes up, and for once he’s not playing the fool.

Simon Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and know that you are the Holy One of God.”

We’ve left our chains in Egypt. We’ve left Torah on Mount Sinai. We have made our choice to come and follow you. Why? Because we have come to believe that you are the Holy One of God.”

In other words, in YOU we have hope; we have a hope-filled future.

We live in a world where people are afraid. We’re afraid of war. We’re afraid of famine. We are (many of us) a paycheck or two from becoming homeless. We are reaching an age (many of us) where a catastrophic illness could destroy us and everything we worked for. 

And you know, we’re not miracle workers in that sense of turning water into wine, or walking on water, or having the storms of life shut up just ‘cause we say so. But we are miracle workers if we open our eyes and ears to our neighbors and respond to them as the loving eyes and ears of Jesus. 

Like Jesus, we can embrace those who are unclean, unloved, perhaps even “unloveable,” because while they may be unclean or worthless to the world, they are God’s precious little ones. They are worthy of our time, our attention, our love, and our care – just like they were worth it to Jesus.

Jesus did not institute a sacrament as much as a vocation and a challenge. “Will you take me in, in such a way that where you go, I will go, also?”

That’s what Jesus wants. That’s what Jesus is looking for.

I said earlier that we are people of the Book, but really, we are people of the author, Jesus Christ, himself. 

As John said at the beginning of the Gospel that bears his name: In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word WAS God. He was with God in the beginning … in him was life, and that life was the light of humanity.”

May he be our life, our Bread of Life, our Cup of Salvation, as well. Amen

Sermon delivered to St. Matthew’s (Browns Point, Tacoma, WA) 08/25/2024

The Rev. Keith F. Axberg, Retired

Hear ye, hear ye, hear ye

 

"Whoever has ears to hear, let them hear." Mark 4:9

One of the joys of reaching my mid-70s (in age, if not IQ) is checking out the local paper and confirming that I still haven’t made the obituaries. “I’m on the green side of the grass,” as the local yokels put it. True enough, and I’m still in fairly decent health, all things considered.

Not everything has weathered the years as well as I have. Over the past few months, and perhaps years, I’ve noticed that my television is having a harder time making itself heard and understood. Where I could watch most shows set between twelve and fifteen on the volume meter, I’ve had to crank the beast up into the low twenties lately. 

A few weeks ago I bought some electronic devices that are supposed to keep deer out of the yard by making a shrill sound (that is technically above human hearing). I set them up and watched several deer wander through the yard anyway, chewing on some of our greenery all around my ultrasonic deer-blasters. It made me wonder if they even work, but if the sound is above our listening range, how would we ever know?

Then our yard lads came by to mow and trim and asked about the deer units. I explained what they are, and Zach, the older of the two said, “Boy, they’re pretty loud. I’m surprised they don’t bother the deer.” They then got back to mowing and trimming with machines that I COULD hear.

I found myself pondering the imponderable. Is it possible my own hearing acuity isn’t what it once was? As silly an idea as that seemed, I decided to make an appointment with my family doctor and have my hearing tested. Dr. Aulakh tapped a tuning fork and placed it atop my skull, testing for bone conduction of sound. I heard the tone in my left ear, but not my right. “The good news is that I am only half a numbskull,” I exclaimed. She did not disagree with my diagnosis.

“This was just a crude test,” she said, “and it does seem you have some significant hearing loss (probably age related), so she helped me make a follow-up appointment with Dr. Hannah Carlson, one of the audiologists in the regional medical group. Dr. Carlson sat down with me to discuss activities of daily living, my hopes, concerns, and goals. She explained that hearing aids can’t restore lost hearing, but can certainly help a person hear better and understand what they’re hearing more clearly. 

After she hooked me up in the sound-proof room and ran a battery of tests (so she said, I didn’t hear everything she was apparently throwing at me), she showed me a chart that indicated that my hearing loss is between mild and moderate, and mainly in the high range of sounds. 

She suggested I was a good candidate for hearing aids and explained that as people lose their sense of hearing, they tend to isolate themselves. Early hearing aids were designed to make sounds louder (volume), but today’s aids are geared toward shifting sound to levels the wearer can hear better and with better clarity. “They can also help slow down cognitive decline,” she explained, “as the brain is stimulated by sound. As we go deaf, the brain loses the stimulation and begins to atrophy, in a sense.”

The idea that I might need hearing aids does not bother me. I have walked into homes with the television cranked up on full, and occupants unaware it was even on. Our own television has a lot of capacity left for going loud(er), but I am already bothered with the challenge of finding a balance between volume set for dialogue and volume set for commercials, and volume set for special effects, explosions, and dramatic/soaring musical scores. If hearing aids can help me save my cognitive levels and my wife’s sanity, I’m all for getting them!

After all, Jesus said, “Let those with ears to hear, hear,” (to which I reply, here here!).

They are on order, and I hope to provide you with a progress report as I continue this journey. Here’s to hearing here in this, our valley! 

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)