Mark 1:4-11

John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him, and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins. Now John was clothed with camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. He proclaimed, “The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals. I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.”

In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

On Wednesday we all witnessed a historic, unprecedented, and horrific event as fellow American citizens stormed the US Capitol building in a deadly attempt to thwart democracy.

Also on Wednesday, the Western Christian church entered the liturgical season of Epiphany – a season dedicated to the idea that God’s presence and goodness is being unveiled, revealed, shown to the nations of the earth. Light, in the midst of darkness. Order out of chaos.

The gospel text for the day of the Epiphany of our Lord this past Wednesday was the story of the magi presenting themselves and their gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh to the Holy Family. Their journey takes place under the orders and watchful gaze of an arrogant and entitled ruler who has received word that his political power will come to an end due to the birth of a new king. Herod’s solution to the threat of his power being taken away is a violent one: he has every male infant in the region murdered. He himself does not carry out the violence, but he entrusts his followers to use whatever violent means they see fit in order to accomplish this goal. They oblige.

The wise men, upon finding the Christ Child, do not return to Herod with news of the child’s location, but instead went home by another road – a beautiful and brilliant act of nonviolent resistance. The magi, those “wise” men, did their part to disengage from a pattern of destruction and take some violence out of circulation – a brave decision with history-altering ramifications.

The season of Epiphany begins with a warning about the horrific lengths that individuals intoxicated by worldly power will undertake when that power is threatened. The season also begins with the acknowledgment that nonviolence is the foundation of God’s kingdom.

The next Epiphany story – the next story about God’s presence and goodness being unveiled, revealed, shown to the nations of the earth – is what we heard today. John the Baptizer is calling people to repent – to do a 180-degree about-face with their lives – in order to be ready for the coming of salvation.

One among the crowd heeds the invitation and completely submerges in the cleansing waters of baptism. “And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” His life would go on to prove that being loved by God is the true power of the universe and that love cannot be taken away.

I don’t remember my baptism, but I know without a doubt that water was poured over my head along with the declaration that God loves me. If you have been baptized, then you too have heard the words of God’s love for you. If you have witnessed the community gathered around the baptismal font and applauded as the baby, teen, or adult was presented to the community, then you have been reminded of the unique way that God’s love is expressed over and over again as those water drops fall off the forehead and return to the font. If you have experienced the pronouncement of God’s love for you, then you have within you the most powerful thing in the world and it is power that cannot be taken away.

Two Epiphany stories of two powerful men. Two totally different ways of reacting to God’s presence and offer of salvation. Herod was horrified; Jesus was humbled. Both were loved by God, but only one knew that God’s love was sufficient...that God’s love is the most powerful thing in the world and it is power that cannot be taken away.

World history is replete with stories of men who reacted violently when their worldly power and positions of privilege were threatened. The pages of scripture tell of scores of rulers, even God-fearing ones, who sought to preserve their power at all costs, even when it meant engaging in violence. Herod is simply one among many.

But we don’t worship the leaders who react violently when their positions of power and privilege are threatened. Instead, what unites us is our worship and adoration of the one who was humble enough to be washed, who rejected worldly power and false idols, who identified with society’s outcasts and gave them hope.

We worship the one who was executed by the violent power-hungry rulers and structures of the world. And we worship the one who rose from the dead, proving once and for all the complete futility of worldly power.

Why, then, was Christian imagery referencing the prince of peace and the God of love found on the flags, clothes, signs, and lips of those who stormed the U.S. Capitol on Wednesday...those who express the sentiment that their worldly power and privilege is being stripped away? Why would the baptized and beloved of God resort to violence (or at least be a part of the mob that put others in harm’s way)?

As a representative of Christ’s church I have to publicly condemn not just their actions but the theology that contributed to their sense of right and wrong because it has more to do with Herod than Jesus.

Many Americans (though, sadly, not all) were quick to condemn the violence and lawbreaking that unfolded in our nation’s capital on Wednesday. However, those who participated in the insurgency are not the only elements that are to be condemned. As an assembly of people who profess to follow Christ above all else, we must all take the time to reflect on the ways in which we, too, are prone to react with violence when we feel that our power and privilege is being threatened. This is what it means to remember our baptism – to daily put to death that which seeks to displace God in our lives and daily to rise to new life as we focus on God alone.

The events of this week and the lives that were lost demand that each and every one of us take an honest look at how our actions are contributing to the violence that seems so readily-accessible today. In what ways do we feel our worldly power slipping away? To what lengths are we willing to go to prevent that from happening? And if our honest answer to that question scares us, we can remember our baptism and our belovedness. We can repent and return home by another way.

These are the early days of Epiphany. God’s presence and goodness is being unveiled, revealed, shown to the nations of the earth. Light, in the midst of darkness. Order out of chaos. We keep watch together. We keep watch over one another. And we do all we can to remind one another of our belovedness. That is the true power that cannot be taken away.

Amen.

Matthew 5:13-16

[Jesus said,] “You are the salt of the earth. But if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything and is thrown out and trampled under foot.”

“You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hidden. No one lights a lamp and places it under a bushel basket, but on a lamp stand where it gives light to all in the house. Therefore, let your light shine before others so that they might see your good works and give glory to your father in heaven.

If you’ve been around for a while at Cross of Grace, you’ve heard some mention here and there about the ministry at First Trinity Lutheran Church – over on 42nd Street and Emerson, closer to downtown Indy. We’ve done ministry in a distant kind of way with them over the years.

We collected Mission Sunday offerings, back in the day, to help them with a backpack program one summer for kids in their neighborhood. A couple of years ago, we joined them on “God’s Work. Our Hands.” Sunday – the nationwide day of service for the ELCA. For that, some of us knocked on doors in their neighborhood, asked people who might need help with minor yard work and home repair projects, and then went to help with those projects and to clean up a park nearby, too. About a year ago, we shared a midweek Bible Study about what it means to be Lutheran-flavored Christians in the world. And just a few weeks ago, one of our handbell choirs showed up to ring at First Trinity, on a Sunday morning, during worship.

Many of you also know that my dad – who is supposed to be retired from ministry – is the permanent supply preacher at First Trinity. When he’s in town and available, he leads worship for and with them on Sunday mornings. I’m asking my Faith Formation class to join him – and them – for worship next Sunday while I’m away in Haiti.

The reason we’re doing all of this – and the reason I think God might be calling us to even more of this shared ministry – is because First Trinity, like so many churches in our world these days, has lost some of its saltiness. (I don’t think they’d mind me saying that.) They are a proud, faithful people, with a rich history of multi-cultural, grace-filled ministry. But, like so many churches in our country, they are riding the struggle bus of low attendance, lack of consistent pastoral leadership, and a general decline in ministry and programming and energy that draws new people into their midst.

All of that, along with the notion that the white, German, Lutheran way of doing church in the world doesn’t always connect with or feel like “church” the way people of color are in their neck of the woods are often familiar with, means First Trinity has struggled to attract and keep people from their neighborhood – their little part of the Kingdom – interested and engaged and connected to their ministry.

But, these are a salt of the earth people at First Trinity, whose work in the world has lost some of its taste. So the Synod has invite us – and I think it would be fun would be fun and meaningful and holy and faithful – to see if we can’t help them get some of their flavor back.

So here’s some of what I’ve been wondering about – some of what has been brewing through prayer and conversation with the folks at First Trinity and the Bishop’s staff – just to get our wheels of possibility spinning:

What if some of us chose to worship at First Trinity some Sunday at 10:45 a.m., instead of or in addition to worshiping here? Your presence will be welcome there. You may find something new and different that you’d like us to do more often at Cross of Grace. You may also be reminded about all we have to be grateful for in this place.

What if, when you hear about an upcoming, shared, midweek Bible Study with our friends at First Trinity, you would consider joining the fun? We learned a lot from and for and about one another the last time we did that.

What if you added First Trinity and all of this to your prayers, inviting God to stir up something new at Emerson and 42nd street and in the hearts and lives of the disciples at First Trinity, too, so that new faces might show up to get a real taste of the genuine, generous grace they have to offer?

And please don’t misunderstand me, this isn’t all or only meant to look like generosity and benevolence on our part. We have plenty to gain in all of this, too. I think every congregation – even places as full of life as Cross of Grace is blessed to be – are at risk of losing their saltiness. And I think it’s just exactly the kind of thing Jesus is warning the disciples about in this morning’s Gospel.

Even in his day and age – with the Son of Man milling around in their midst – Jesus was watching and warning about the waning of the impact those first disciples might have on the world around them. So certainly, Christians today of every stripe are invited to be mindful of the same: of becoming too complacent; of flirting with apathy; of embracing faith practices that are so comfortable we forget to let the grace of God’s love surprise and unsettle and move us in a new way as God intends.

I happen to believe that the minute we stop leaving our own neck of the woods with the good news of God’s grace is the minute we start to lose our own flavor, lose our own saltiness, lose the vim and the vigor that got us here in the first place. Which is why I’m fairly certain this potential new relationship with First Trinity would serve us in some surprising ways.

Because one thing I know to be true, is that we are blessed and made better every time we get out of our own walls and into the world with the good news we celebrate so well around here. Most of us have seen the difference our ministry in Fondwa, Haiti, has meant – not just for the women’s clinic we helped to establish, or the school we helped to re-build after the earthquake, or the many homes we’ve constructed over the years – but for those of us who’ve been able to spend time with our friends there and for anyone from Cross of Grace who gets to tell someone else about what we’re up to there. That’s the salt of mission and service adding to the flavor of God’s grace in the world.

Likewise, those of us who’ve been able to worship at the Pendleton Prison – just the handful of times we’ve done that – have been blessed and better for the experience. I even get the idea that many of you were moved just to hear about some of that if you were here last Sunday. That’s the salt of worship adding to the flavor of God’s presence for the least of these in our midst.

And the same goes for ministries like Agape Alliance that shares food and friendship with prostitutes on the eastside; the Burmese refugee family we were able to help get settled this past fall, through Exodus International; the “Bags of Blessing” some of you give away as you’re out and about around town; the prayer shawls and quilts that are made and shared with more people than we can keep track of; the blood you donated last Sunday that will end up God knows where, helping God knows who; and the food pantry bounty or the SonRise ministry that benefit and bless, almost exclusively, families who don’t come to Cross of Grace for any other reason. All of it is the salt of generosity, friendship, comfort, compassion, mercy, faith, hope, and love adding to the flavor of God’s kingdom among us – for the sake of the world.

These are just some of the ministries to which God calls us as disciples… as Partners in Mission… as salt of the earth.

And every bit of this is very much about the rest of what Jesus has to say in this morning’s Gospel. We are – at Cross of Grace and at First Trinity and as God’s Church in the world – meant to be like a city on a hill… like a lamp on a stand – shining the light of God’s grace and love and good news for all the world to see. We are blessed to be a blessing, remember. We are given the light, not just to see for ourselves, but to light the way for others, just the same.

Please hear that nothing about this potential relationship with First Trinity is cast in stone or written in blood or signed on any dotted lines. I have no idea where – if anywhere – all of this could lead. It really is just the beginning of some prayerful conversation and dreaming.

But I’ve heard of churches like First Trinity being re-invigorated by relationships like this and transforming their facilities into homeless shelters or food banks or faith-based community centers. I’ve heard about synod offices choosing to make facilities like First Trinity their home base, instead of paying crazy amounts of rent in cold, boring professional office buildings.

At the very least, I can imagine a mutual, shared ministry were Cross of Grace and First Trinity each have the chance to plant a flag for the kind of grace we share in another neighborhood – a chance to call another place “home” in a surprising way – both of us adding to our circle of Partners in Mission – growing our circle of influence – expanding God’s circle of grace in the world. How cool could that be?

However we choose to engage this invitation – if we do – I believe it stands to add something savory to our already full plate of grace and good news and mission and ministry at Cross of Grace. And I believe it could be yet another way to honor the call, command and promise of our baptism – to let our light so shine before others, that they might see our good works and give glory to our Father in heaven.

Amen

The True Power of God's Love

Salt of the Earth, Light of the World