Reformation Foosball

John 8:31-36

Jesus said, to some of 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, “Everyone who commits sin is a slave to sin. The slave does not have a permanent place in the house, but the son has a place there forever. So, if the Son makes you free, you will be free, indeed.”

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I found myself playing Foosball recently with one of my favorite 9 year-old boys, who shall remain nameless. (It’s questionably for pastors to invoke their own children as sermon illustrations, and even moreso where other peoples’ kids are concerned. So I will refrain.) Anyway, when he asked me if I played foosball, I gave him the same answer I give when someone asks me if I golf or play pool; something like, “I have played foosball, but I don’t play foosball.” Which really just means, I’m terrible at foosball – and golf and pool, for that matter.

But, since he’s one of my favorite 9 year-old boys, I agreed. And, first came the rules. And, since I’ve only played foosball, but don’t play foosball – and as with golf and pool, I’m usually holding a beer in one hand and a pool cue, golf club, or foosball rod in the other – I didn’t know the rules, didn’t think there were, really, rules to foosball, so was utterly at the mercy of my 9 year-old friend, who had LOTS of rules about how to play foosball.

I couldn’t keep track of them all at the time and can’t possibly remember them, now. But there was an “off-sides” rule somehow. And he seemed to have very official-sounding names for very particular offenses and penalties, like “tripping” I think. Maybe “tackling” was another. I was mystified by how little plastic figures, with immovable arms and legs, permanently attached to a metal rod could “trip” or “tackle” anything, but I was in no position of authority to argue with my 9-year old opponent. It was his table, his house, his rules, after all.

There was also a rule about whether my foosball players would, could, or should be upside down or right-side up at particular times. I think some of the foosball players could kick the ball backwards but others could not. I never did get to drop the ball back onto the playing field after a score, either – that was always his job. AND, of course, after I scored a time or two, my favorite 9 year-old seemed to suddenly remember more rules he’d forgotten to tell me about before we started. (I’m certain by the way, that he comes by all of this naturally. See, my favorite nine year-old’s father is a lawyer.)

But I played along, confident that I would and could and should win – no matter how many rules he threw at me – because he’s 9. But, as you might have guessed, I lost that freaking foosball game to my favorite 9 year-old.

And it makes me think about what we’re up to on Reformation Sunday: what Martin Luther was challenging in the Church of his day, and something like what Jesus meant when he talked about being a slave to sin, and about how we could be freed from that kind of bondage.

See, I think God’s people on the planet are called “children” for some very good reasons. Since the beginning of time, we’ve been pretending that the rules can save us. So we’ve messed with the rules – creating our own and breaking God’s – in ways that work to our advantage, in ways that disadvantage others, and in ways that make winners and losers of God’s people. And I think, like my favorite 9 year-old, we’ve convinced ourselves that by fudging the rules, by bending the rules, by making up and massaging the rules for our benefit, by playing by the rules at all – we can come out on top; that we can win, in the end.

In other words, we have convinced ourselves that our best chance for salvation, our best chance at freedom, as Jesus says it this morning, our only hope for victory is wrapped up in the Law of God’s rules.

Which is what people were up to in the days of Martin Luther – back in the 16th Century. They were keeping score with rituals and rules and restrictions and riches. You could pay cash for salvation, by way of something called an Indulgence, for example. The church was acting like a bunch of children, convincing people they could buy their way out of purgatory and into heaven, for the right amount of money. People were told they could make a spiritual pilgrimage or visit a holy shrine to earn favor and forgiveness in God’s eyes. We call this “works righteousness” nowadays – the notion that we can behave our way into God’s good graces.

And all of this made Martin Luther sad. It made him angry. It made him want to change and reform so much of what was happening to God’s Church in the world.

And it wasn’t much different than what was going on in the days of Jesus, either. The followers of Jesus were screwing up even while he was still walking around on the planet. The Pharisees were pointing fingers, the Sadducees throwing stones, the Scribes were scribbling down their rules, and the disciples were doubting that the grace Jesus proclaimed, promised and embodied, could really be true. And the faithful were falling for it.

All of it was about who was right and who was wrong; who was earning God’s favor and who was reaping God’s judgment; who was playing by the rules and who wasn’t; and who may or may not win, in the end.

God’s children were under the impression that following the rules – keeping the Law, at all costs – was the only way to win… the only way to be free …the only way to be saved. And, like me against my favorite 9 year-old, people fell for it – people fall for it – all of the time, thinking they could out-smart it all by following the rules.

But like those people listening to Jesus in this morning’s Gospel, we forget, don’t we? We forget that we have been – and are, still – slaves to Sin, slaves to the rules, slaves to the Law. And as slaves, like our confession reminds us, we cannot free ourselves. There is no amount of rules to follow… there is no correct Law to abide… there is no way, even, to tweak or twist the rules or the Law so that it leads to our victory.

Because we need more than the Law. We need the Son. We need the grace of a God, who isn’t keeping score; who isn’t dangling the rules before us like a carrot; who isn’t twisting the rules so that we’ll keep playing at this thing called FAITH, as though it were a to-do list for some cosmic task-master, rather than a grateful response to a generous God, which our faith is meant to be. We need the grace of a God who already loves us – and who always, always, always will – because we are, indeed, children of God. Nothing more and nothing less.

See, I imagine God watching all of us children – you and me and all of creation, I mean – like my favorite 9 year-old’s parents watched him kick my butt at the foosball table. Smiling and laughing. Not at all surprised. All of us knowing it was never about the rules or the score or the winning or the losing, anyway.

All that matters – God knows, and wants us to believe – is that we’re all set free, each and every one of us. That we all win, in the end. That God holds no grudges – and neither should we – until we learn to live differently and to love more radically and to hope more earnestly, and to play more fairly … for our own sake and for the sake of the world … thanks to the grace that belongs to each of us, that frees every one of us, that makes us all winners, in Jesus Christ, our Lord.

Amen

(…and for the record, I did Google “Foosball Rules” in preparation for this sermon and found nothing about “tripping,” “tackling,” or “off-sides.” And the rules I did learn about were not in my favorite 9 year-old’s repertoire, so I’m totally kicking that 9 year-old’s butt next we play.)

Pride, Pronouns and Holy Trinity

John 16:12-15

[Jesus said,] “I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now. When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all truth, for he will not speak on his own but speak whatever he hears and declare to you the things that are to come. He will glorify me because he will take what is mine and declare it to you. All that the Father has is mine. For this reason I said, ‘he will take what is mine and declare it to you.’”

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99% of the time strangers mispronounce my last name – and have – for as long as I’ve had it. On the first day of school (“Hall, Hamilton, Harris, HAVEL …”); Making introductions at Synod Assembly (“Pastor Mark HAVEL, from Cross of Grace, New PaleSTINE…”); Every announcer at every baseball game ever… (“Batting for the Dragons, “Jackson HAVEL or Max HAVEL…”)

We rarely correct people. It’s the HAVEL way. I was actually just joking with my son’s new tennis coach, who was asking how to pronounce his name, that there could very well be people in my congregation who don’t know how to say my name because everyone just calls me “Pastor Mark.” And we’re fine with it. Really. We let it slide for the most part. Unless someone cares enough to ask about getting it right, we will be the HAVELs without incident, injury, or offense.

(It’s “HAVEL,” by the way. Like NAVEL with an H. Even though I rarely correct people, relatively speaking, I’ve probably said that about a million times in my life.)

All of this is to say, I have some history with the significance and importance of getting someone’s name right – or not – and wondering about why that matters, if that matters, should that matter, DOES that matter. And I’ve been thinking a lot about this lately where pronouns for gender non-conforming, non-binary, and transgender people in the LGBTQ+ community are concerned. Since June is PRIDE month and since today is Holy Trinity Sunday, I hope where I’m headed with all of this is as practical as it is holy … because I have a confession to make:

I have been confused and frustrated by all of this pronoun stuff lately. And I know many of you have, too. Let me try to explain for those of you who are new to this and may be even more confused than me about it all. And I apologize in advance for whatever I get wrong.

If someone in the LGBTQ+ community doesn’t consider themselves to be straight-up MALE or straight-up FEMALE (what is known now as cis-gender or cis-het-gender), and if they don’t want to be known or identified or limited by either of one those binary adjectives, such a person might prefer to be referred to as “THEY” or “THEM.”

Or, if someone has transitioned – or is in the process of transitioning – from one gender to another – they might prefer to go by “THEM,” instead of something so cut-and-dried as “He” and “Him” or “She” and “Her.” Or, if someone was born a male and transitions to become a female, they might prefer to be known as “THEY” and/or “HER or SHE.”

Like I said, it can get confusing and, I’ll confess, even frustrating, for someone who’s trying to get it right. For example, I know of a public figure who was born a male and transitioned to become a transgender female, with a new stereotypically female name, “MEGAN.” Megan prefers for their pronouns to be “THEY” and “HE” if they’re doing something by way of ZOOM, for example, or the more generic “THEY” and “THEM” if they’re being referred to in the press or the media. Again, this can be confusing and frustrating and I confess – and I mean CONFESS – I’ve thought some uncharitable thoughts about how high-maintenance this seems, how overly-sensitive, how needy, if not arrogant and maybe narcissistic this might be. But I’m trying to learn.

See, as someone who has never cared and never taken it personally when people have gotten my name wrong, I just didn’t understand. Which is the point. I just didn’t understand. And maybe you don’t either. See, as a straight, white, male, it has always been my prerogative to correct people if/when they pronounced my name incorrectly – or not. I could call them on it, if I wanted to – or not. I could give them the whole, “it’s like navel with an “H,” spiel, if I wanted to – or not. In my mind, they are wrong and it is my choice, my option, my prerogative – it is within my power – to let them know they are wrong, if I want to.

But for someone in the LGBTQ+ community, someone like Megan, perhaps, who likely grew up in the closet, on the margins, as an outsider to some, as a sinner to many, THEY were the ones who, their whole life, were “wrong”: in the wrong body… wearing the wrong clothes… attracted to the wrong kind of person… fundamentally WRONG by the estimation of, in the opinion of, according to the theology and judgement of most of the world around them – which would be a terrible way to try to live and move and be in the world – AND they were without the status, without the prerogative, without the power, to demand the simple, holy respect of being seen, identified, understood, and addressed in a way that honored who they are and how they feel about their very self.

And I’m confessing my frustration with this, and my lack of patience and understanding with this, because I realize that it’s lazy of me; and inconsiderate; and lacking in empathy and compassion to not take the time to simply learn – or want to learn – to address someone in a way they wish to be addressed.

And all of this strikes me as practical and holy and relevant to wonder about on what we call Holy Trinity Sunday, this strange day on our church calendar where we’re invited to wonder about and wrestle with God’s identity – and the names we use to call upon, to pray to, and maybe with which we introduce others to the God we worship.

As followers of Jesus, we start with what we learn from Jesus, in Scripture – Father, +Son, and Holy Spirit. That’s our Trinity. That’s our non-binary identity for the God of all creation, if you will. That’s the most common language most of us use to refer to the God made known to us in Jesus. And because Jesus was born a boy and died a man and prayed to God “the Father,” in his first-century, patriarchal, male-dominated culture, we do a lot of that, too. But I think that’s kind of lazy and lacking in faithful creativity and holy imagination.

Because let’s remember that Jesus also likened himself to a mother hen, who gathers her brood under her wings…

In Genesis, we’re told God created humankind “in the image of God” … “male and female he created them.”

And the word for the holy wisdom of God is the feminine name Sophia, which some use in reference to the Holy Spirit…

And remember that Jesus also talked about himself as a shepherd, as a gate, as the Way, the Truth, and the Life…

He’s also the Lamb of God, the Bread of Life, the Son of God, the Son of Man, the Son of David…

Jesus would also answer to Lord, Master, Rabbi, Rabbouni…

He was also understood to be Lord, Logos, the Word, Christ, Messiah…

Talk about high maintenance.

So, on this Holy Trinity Sunday, in the middle of PRIDE Month, in this congregation full of people who – just last week – shared how welcoming and affirming we want to be to ALL of God’s children … as I learn about more congregations in our community choosing deliberately NOT to welcome, love and care for people who are LGBTQ … let’s remember that this whole idea of naming God as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, matters most if and when it points to the relationship shared among the persons of the Trinity. And that matters most, if you ask me, when it calls us and others into relationship with that same God, into relationship with each other, and into relationship with all of God’s children.

So let’s consider … that when we limit what we’re willing to name or how we’re willing to call upon God, that we also limit all the ways we might see and share the goodness of God’s love, too. We risk limiting what God can look like and how God can show up in our lives, for others, and for the sake of the world, as well.

And let’s stop doing that to each other, too. Let’s be patient with ourselves and one another… let’s listen to, let’s hear, and let’s take the time to really see our neighbors the way God does and the way they see themselves – “he,” “she,” “them,” “they,” whatever. And let’s see and celebrate everyone as created in God’s image with love, in love, for the sake of love at all costs, just as each of us is claimed and called and blessed to be: children of God, marked with the cross of Christ, forever.

Amen