grace

Put Down the Duckie

Mark 2:23-3:6

One sabbath he was going through the grainfields; and as they made their way his disciples began to pluck heads of grain. The Pharisees said to him, “Look, why are they doing what is not lawful on the sabbath?” And he said to them, “Have you never read what David did when he and his companions were hungry and in need of food? He entered the house of God, when Abiathar was high priest, and ate the bread of the Presence,

which it is not lawful for any but the priests to eat, and he gave some to his companions.” Then he said to them, “The sabbath was made for humankind, and not humankind for the sabbath; so the Son of Man is lord even of the sabbath.”

Again he entered the synagogue, and a man was there who had a withered hand. They watched him to see whether he would cure him on the sabbath, so that they might accuse him. And he said to the man who had the withered hand, “Come forward.” Then he said to them, “Is it lawful to do good or to do harm on the sabbath, to save life or to kill?” But they were silent. He looked around at them with anger; he was grieved at their hardness of heart and said to the man, “Stretch out your hand.” He stretched it out, and his hand was restored.

The Pharisees went out and immediately conspired with the Herodians against him, how to destroy him.


The hardest assignment I ever had in seminary was to put down the duckie. To explain what that means, I’ll need a little help from Ernie and Hoots the Owl.

In seminary I took a class called Soil and Sabbath with Nate Stucky, professor of Old Testament and director of the Farminary, this magical place that combined small scale agriculture and theological education. At the first class, Nate had us pick up a duck and as I remember it, the duck, much like Ernie and his duck, represented the thing we clung to so tightly.

And for a bunch of young people at seminary, we held fervently to our identities as students, achievers, who wrote impressive papers, read lots of books, and would become great pastors and professors because of all that. The assignment that was so hard was this: put down your duck for at least six consecutive hours each week and during these six hours write down, tell someone, or otherwise recall a story of God’s saving action or provision. And while six hours may not sound like much, it was surprisingly difficult. After a few hours I would get antsy knowing there were always more pages to read, a study group to attend, or papers to work on. And it didn’t just affect me.

This practice of sabbath, of putting down the duck, was Katelyn’s favorite assignment. She loved the rhythm it enforced in our newly minted marriage and the fact that for six hours she didn’t have to hear about some boring book or theologian. I didn’t always keep my Sabbath. At midterms and finals, I carried my duck 24/7. And after the class, our sabbath [my sabbath] was never as intentional as it was that first semester.

This assignment, more than any other, showed me how my worth, how good of a pastor I would be, how I saw and understood myself, was wrapped up in what I produced, by how busy I was, and how well I did in my classes.Stopping, even for six hours, disrupted all of that. But that’s exactly what sabbath is supposed to do.

The commandment to observe the sabbath is listed in two places in the Bible. In Exodus, God spoke to Moses and said “Remember the sabbath, keep it holy” and gave this explanation as to why: “for in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea and all that is in them, but rested the 7th day; therefore the Lord blessed the sabbath day and consecrated it”. In short, do as God did. God rested from work so you should rest from work.

Deuteronomy, however, is a bit different. It’s the same commandment, but a different explanation. “Remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt, and the Lord your God brought you out from there with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm; therefore the Lord your God commanded you to keep the Sabbath day.” Here, the Israelites are invited to rest not to imitate God but to see what God has done for them and see who they truly are.

For 400 years, the Israelites were enslaved, forced to make bricks each and every day with no rest. Their life was consumed by their work, their worth was only found in how much they produced. Then after leaving Egypt, God says one day you won’t work or make anything. It was a radical reorientation reminding Israel that they are no longer slaves, their worth did not come from how many bricks they made, and their identity did not come from their work.

God had made them free and would provide for them, even when they didn’t work because they were God’s people, chosen and loved. Rest made them see this. And look how inclusive, how far reaching the sabbath invitation was: animals, servants, immigrants among them, all were extended the same rest, because no one and no thing should be forced to work their life away. Rest is a gift for all of creation.

Maybe like the Israelites, your identity is wrapped up in work, feeling like your worth comes from what you produce, how much money you make, or the title you carry. Maybe you're wrapped up in being the perfect parent or spouse, or weighing the right number on a scale. Who are you when the children move out, or you get divorced, or you retire, or your body can no longer do what it once could? What’s the duckie you can’t put down? Sabbath is a rhythm to help you see and grasp the identity you have as a beloved child of God made in the image of God.

This one day of rest shows us our value as a person is not found in what we do or how busy we are but in whose we are. It is a form of grace; and like all grace, it disrupts our lives and causes us to change how we see ourselves. And not only are we changed by sabbath but so too are our days, our families, even our communities.

It is a hard grace for us to receive, but there are practical ways to help establish a sabbath. Dorothy Bass advises avoiding three things: work, commerce, and worry. Working nonstop makes us our own God, thinking all we have is by what we’ve done. And how prideful to think the world rotates because of our work. Stopping, just for one day, gives space for us to reflect on all that God has done and all the ways God provides for us.

And we’ll find that when we have balance with work, we’ll encourage others to have that too.

As for commerce, buying and spending are wrapped up in work. As Bass notes, “commerce creates the conditions for work and often more work. When we pause buying and spending, we pause work for others also.”

And likely the hardest thing to not do is worry. If you aren’t working, then you are worrying about work, or what needs done around the house, or the family problem that needs to be addressed, or the upcoming election and latest headlines. While it is undoubtedly hard to cast away our worries completely, we can refrain from things that induce worry, radical things like having your phone by your side, reading the news, checking Facebook or your email, or pausing the house project.

This may sound restricting, oppressive even. But the intent is the opposite. Sabbath is a day made for you, as Jesus tells us, a day to be life giving and rejuvenating. A day where you are free to rest, celebrate, and feast. Walk, play, and pray. Love and be loved. Serve, study, and sing. And most importantly, free to worship and give thanks for the grace of God that is ours through Jesus. Every sabbath is a little easter celebrating that we need not work ourselves to death in order to save ourselves. Christ has done that for you. No matter how well you keep the sabbath, it does not get you to heaven. And neither does any amount of work you do or money you make.

So put down the duckie and remember the sabbath. If a whole day seems too much at first, try it for six hours. You might be surprised at how hard this is and how it changes not only your day, but your family’s day too.

Which is why sabbath isn’t meant to be done alone. Sabbath is done best in a community, a group of people willing to go against the culture of ceaseless consumption and production.

Sabbath is the grace of rest, helping us see that who we are cannot be reduced to the work we can or cannot do, and tells us that we are loved, you are loved simply because you are a child of God. Sabbath truly is grace with no strings attached.

Thanks be to God.

Amen.



Grace, Upon Grace, Upon Grace

John 8:31-36

Then Jesus said, to the Jews who had believed in him, “If you continue in my word you are truly my disciples and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free.” They said to him, “We are descendants of Abraham, and have never been slaves to anyone. What do you mean by saying, ‘you will be made free?’”

Jesus answered them, “Very truly I tell you, anyone who commits sin is a slave to sin. The slave has no permanent place in the household; the Son has a place there forever. So, if the Son makes you free, you will be free, indeed.”


We can’t deny that it’s hard to be human these days, right? I can make lemonade out of lemons with the best of them, but life on the planet – and in our little neck of the woods, even – is daunting, more often than not, it seems to me. Maybe that’s nothing new under the sun. Maybe I watch too much 24-hour news. I don’t know. But with Reformation on the horizon – the perennial message for which, in my opinion, is simply “grace upon grace upon grace upon grace.” So I’ve been keeping my eyes open for examples of grace lately that stand up, over and against, the hard stuff, and the ways of the world, that seem to win too much of the time.

A few weeks ago, Pastor Cogan had someone, out there in the world, question the fact that we give Needler’s grocery store gift cards to our food pantry clients. That’s not exactly something new under the sun, either. It’s happened before. People know – and have noticed – that sometimes our food pantry clients by pop or cookies or beer with the gift cards we give them, along with the other food we share. They wonder if that’s a good idea… if we should police that somehow… if it’s a waste to give gift cards to people if they’re going to buy anything other than fruits and vegetables, meat, cheese, or milk, I guess … if we should stop the practice of gift cards altogether.

I think it’s an expression of grace … a small act of generosity with no strings attached. Sometimes a person wants pop, or a cookie, or a beer … and the gift of dignity to make that decision is good news and grace, plain and simple, especially when someone suggests they aren’t worthy of it. Grace, upon grace, upon grace.

Last week I had a mother of three call for help with a few nights’ stay at the an extended stay hotel in Greenwood. At least one of her three kids was sick, she had just gotten a new job, but her first paycheck hadn’t come yet. She couldn’t move into her new apartment until the first of the month. She claimed to have called “every church in Greenwood.” And so on and so on…

I’ve heard all of that before. Whether she had actually called EVERY church in Greenwood, I don’t know, but she had surely given the same spiel to enough people that it rolled off her tongue with as much ease and detail as there was apology and desperation in her voice. There are times when I don’t oblige. And I could have been a sucker on Thursday, but I believed her and was able to get her and those kids a couple more nights of safety and sleep thanks to the gracious abundance of our Pastors’ Discretionary fund. Grace, upon grace, upon grace.

And, I heard an interview with the father of one of the victims shot and killed at that bar in Maine, on Wednesday. Through tears and choking on his words, he expressed an unfathomable amount of compassion and understanding for the stranger who killed his child, so violently and thoughtlessly, just days before.

This father said, he believed that, if the shooter had been in his right mind, he would have been a loving person, but that something went wrong. He was sure this man wasn’t born to be a killer and that he was sorry for whatever happened to make him that way. And, even though he had killed his son, he couldn’t hate him for that. He said he believed in the Lord and that he believed the Lord would prevail in the end. Grace, upon grace, upon grace, upon grace.

And because of this man’s words of compassion and understanding and mercy, it seems to me, that the Lord – and the grace of God we’re here to celebrate today – has already won, as hard as that can be to see sometimes. And not just as some high-minded theological concept, or cosmically, somehow, at the end of time, as our faith promises us: that God’s love is greater than this sort of hate; that life wins over death; that light shines in the darkness, and all the rest.

But I mean, that man reminded me that the Lord has won – and wins – here and now, all of the time if we allow it. Whenever someone can muster some measure of grace and kindness and humble compassion in the face of the horrible, ugly, terrifying sinfulness that seems to surround us, God wins. When a person can choose mercy and hope in the throes of such grief, God’s way has won. When a man can choose patience and understanding and empathy instead of all justification for judgement, vengeance and rage, God’s kind of grace and good news has – absolutely – won.

See, we can theologize all we want on Reformation Sunday. We can sing the praises of Martin Luther’s life and work and ministry… about the changes his theological insights meant for God’s church in the world … stuff like grace alone, faith alone, Word alone, the priesthood of all believers, and all the rest.

But, in all of that, Luther was pointing us, plainly and simply toward Jesus and to the kind of grace and good news his life, death and resurrection experienced, expressed and extolled for all people.

I also heard an interview with Jeffrey Myers, the Rabbi and Cantor from the Tree of Life Synagogue, in Pennsylvania, which was the site of that hate-filled, horrible shooting and massacre, where 11 people were killed five years ago, this Friday. He was sharing his perspective about the persistence of anti-Semitism in our country in light of the war between Israel and Hamas, overseas. He was talking about how there are still members of his congregation who haven’t been able to return to worship or feel safe in the world, generally, because of the fear and trauma they suffered that day, and because of the continued attacks and threats against the Jewish community in our country still.

When asked something about if, when, or how this might change, or if he had any hope for that change to come, Rabbi Myers said something about his hope that what he called the “silent majority” would become a “vocal majority” and start speaking up and speaking out and speaking more loudly than the voices of hate and discrimination and fear that dominate too much of our public life and discourse.

And that’s my reformation hope this time around. That something will change and be stirred up in Christians like us and in congregations like ours, who claim – like Jesus did – that God’s grace is the way to freedom; that to be loved by the Son – as he says this morning – is to be made free in spite of ourselves and in spite of our sins.

I think we are called, as people of God in this broken, hurting, sad and scary world, to lay claim to the gift of God’s grace – with no strings attached – and to be the vocal majority, Rabbi Myers is hoping for: to proclaim and practice this grace and good news in ways that are extravagant, surprising, and foolish, even, by the standards and expectations of the world around us.

I think we are called to be as aggressively gracious with the kind of mercy, forgiveness and love, we proclaim and long for, as those who proclaim, long for, and practice the opposite. And I think when we have the faith, courage, generosity and hope to put that kind of grace into action, God wins, here and now … and so will we and the rest of God’s children, just the same.

Amen