Author: Aaron

Tenth Sunday after Pentecost (17C) – Genesis 18:20-32, Luke 11:1-13

This passage from Genesis is on the short list of my favorites all across the scope of scripture.  It comes just on the tails of the story of the three visitors to Abraham and Sarah that we had last week.  In the few verses before our reading today, we get a peek into the mind of God, who stops to ask himself whether he should tell Abraham what he’s about to do in Sodom and Gomorrah.  Deciding that, if Abraham is to be the progenitor of his chosen people, he ought not hold back; he spills the beans.  And then Abraham gives us the first recorded instance of back-talk toward God.

Fifth Sunday After Pentecost (C) – The Shooting in Orlando – Luke 8:26-39

Terrorized by evil.  That’s what we are this week.  Not that this is a new thing.  Since 2001, we’ve lived in a country where our safety and security has come unbalanced.  We knew that other parts of the world—the Middle East, for example, or parts of Africa—lived in constant fear of what other people might do.  But that was over there.  Here in the United States, we were far removed from those sorts of things.  Not so anymore.  Oklahoma City was the first hint of it, but since then, the anger, and hatred, and violence have seemed unstoppable.  The World Trade Center.  The anthrax scare.  The Boston Marathon.  The Charleston shootings.  San Bernardino.  And now Orlando.

Holy Trinity Sunday (C) – Proverbs 8:1-4, 22-31; Romans 5:1-5; John 16:12-15

God the Father is Creator.  God the Son is Creator.  God the Spirit is Creator.

We have this wonderful illustration of God’s creativity in our Old Testament reading today from Proverbs.  Wisdom, here, one of God’s attributes, is presented as a separate, personal being; part of God, yes, and yet somehow separate from God, complete in and of itself.  God is so vast that he contains multitudes.  We get a bunch of these throughout the Old Testament:  The Word of God, the Spirit of God, the Name of God, and now, the Wisdom of God.  She is portrayed in the likeness of a young woman, yet somehow still older than creation itself.  Her role is to be a master craftsman, intimately involved in the creation of the universe.  It’s no wonder, perhaps; involved in a building project as vast as the universe, God might prefer not to do it alone.  He needs someone to hold plumb line while he marks it out with his divine pencil. 

Funeral of Lillian Twarog – Proverbs 31:25-31, 2 Corinthians 4:14-18, Luke 24:1-7

I love the choice of our first reading today, the one from Proverbs.  Just in general, it’s a delightful reading, because of its poetic description of a good and capable wife.  (You can extend it words to mother or grandmother if you like.)  It talks of her wisdom and her kindness, the way everyone praises her, and the way she fears the Lord.  But most of all, it’s the first verse in our selection today, verse 25, that I love as a choice for Lill’s funeral, the part that says “She laughs at the time to come,” because that’s the thing I will always remember about her.  Her laughter.

Seventh Sunday After Easter (C) – Acts 16:16-34

In 2002, after my first attempt at college, I dropped out and moved back in with my mother.  This meant that I also started attending church again.  There was a Lutheran church in the little town where I had gone to school, but it was a Wisconsin Synod church, people who make the Missouri Synod look about as conservative as Bernie Sanders, and so that was right out.  I tried a whole bunch of other congregations, but church in Michigan just wasn’t like church back home, and I much preferred sleeping in on Sundays.  That meant it was quite exciting to return back home, at least in that respect.  It won’t surprise you that my upbringing in the church was very important and meaningful to me.  The opportunity to plug back in was wonderful, and I signed up for a whole bunch of ministries right away.

Blue Christmas 2015 – Isaiah 40:1-14, 28-31; Matthew 2:1-18

Lully, lulla, thou little tiny child. / Bye, bye, lully, lullay.

The Coventry Carol has long been one of my favorite Christmas tunes.  I don’t know why.  I think it’s the close harmonies that intertwine to make a carol that doesn’t quite sound as joyful as most Christmas carols do.  It has a quieter beauty that somehow feels more like the Christmas I feel inside, than it does the one the rest of the world seems to be celebrating.

Festival of Christ the King (B) – Revelation 1:4-8

When I was in Vienna, my history professor took the class to see the Capuchin church.  We were studying the life and legacy of the Hapsburg monarchs, and this was the place where they were buried.  Now, I don’t much like crypts.  A few weeks earlier, we had gone to the Rupertskirche, I believe, though I’ve probably got the name wrong.  We went down to the newly rediscovered crypt, which had been hermetically sealed in the fourteenth century.  The bodies had stopped decaying, and we could see them, see the clothes they were buried in, and so forth.  I’m told I turned white as a sheet.  In any case, I wasn’t looking forward to the tombs of the emperors, but we went anyway, and I have to admit, it was a pretty interesting trip.

Twentieth Sunday After Pentecost (B) – Mark 10:17-31

When I was visiting my mother in August, I took one last look around for things that belonged to me, things that I wanted to keep. It is, after all, about time I fully move out of her house; at age 35, I don’t need to still have things there to go back to. It is her home, but it is no longer mine. My home is here. So, last look around. I had done a pretty good job of cleaning things out in previous visits; after poking into every corner I could find, there was just one large box full of items that belonged to me. Into my car it went. And, into my car it stayed, until just yesterday, when I finally decided it was time to go through it.

Sermon on our experience at the 2015 ELCA Youth Gathering in Detroit – Mark 16:1-8

“The Beginning of the Good News of Jesus Christ.” That’s the way the Gospel of Mark begins. He announces to us the Good News he’s about to tell us. Strange, then, that the Gospel ends on such a down note. For that’s what we read as our Gospel lesson today; the very end of the book. Jesus performs miracles and teaches great things, he is betrayed and crucified, and there’s an empty tomb, and— And they said nothing to anybody, because they were afraid.

What exactly is the message Mark wants us to hear from this? Where does this Good News of Jesus Christ take us? Off a cliff, it seems. They said nothing to anybody, because they were afraid.

Thirteenth Sunday After Pentecost (B) – John 6:56-69

I was a child during the age of television. For my brother and I, the TV was the primary form of entertainment we had growing up. Of course, our mother was careful to monitor our television-watching habits, and although I can’t ever recall feeling like any shows were particularly off-limits for us, Mom did tend to watch with us, so we could talk about anything that came up that wasn’t really age-appropriate, or she could gently change the channel if necessary. Of course, back then, we only had something like six channels, three of which were PBS affiliates, so there was only so much trouble we could get ourselves into on the screen. My mother insists that the short-lived “Electric Company” taught me how to read at a surprisingly early age. Naturally, Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood and Sesame Street were on every day in our household, watched faithfully by both my brother and I—and I would cite both as important factors in making me the loving, caring, wonderful person you all know me to be.