The Revolution will Not Be Photographed

This week has been an inexplicable period of things breaking. 

First the key fob for our car stopped working to unlock the car.  It was locking just fine until I decided to change the battery.  Now it won't work either way.  It is worth noting that the car and remote, are 13 years old.  But I digress...

Then the automatic garage door broke.  Well, it didn't break entirely.  The remote my father finally found to override our ancient garage door opener was working, but the key we originally used to operate the door now only closes the door and doesn't open it.  That wasn't such a big deal until I misplaced the remote for a day (it was in the sand toy bucket of course) and couldn't get back into the garage, unless I climbed through the window, and displaced the crabby neighbor's plants, which got me yelled at, but again, I digress...

Finally our camera broke.  Suddenly, after months of working without complaint, suddenly the camera won't turn on.  Not when I change the battery, not when I clean the connections.  The only advice the Canon website gives beyond this is "Go to an authorized dealer."  Like I have time for that.

Because, you see, it is the MOST BEAUTIFUL week of the year.  I am sure of it.  75 degrees every day, clear skies, no humidity, a slight breeze and, according to NPR "The longest day of light in Chicago this year."  John is out of camp, and we have THINGS TO DO, PLACES TO BE, and SUMMER TO ENJOY.  And a broken camera will not be allowed to slow us down.

There is, of course, only one problem with our plan.  All these lovely things that we are doing - they aren't going to be photographed.

The trip to the Field Museum on Monday?  Not recorded.  The day on the trail-a-bike (a kind of adult/kid tandem) to the beach?   Unregistered.  Afternoon at the Botanic Garden with friends today?  No shots.  When we go to the Taste of Chicago tomorrow or the Lincoln Park Zoo on Friday no one will be able to see proof.

And maybe that's okay.

I've experience summer with tourists for quite some time now.  Any trip into San Francisco from Berkeley puts one in contact with no end of shivering tourists, unaware that San Francisco is not LA and in the summer you're better off with a sweater than a swimsuit.  And Chicago's summers bring in the hoards from the lesser cities and small towns of the Midwest, usually sunburned and sweaty and in no need of sweaters.  But, outside of the weather, the two groups have one important thing in common:

The have cameras glued to their faces.

Cameras at the Golden Gate Bridge, cameras at the Sears (now Willis) Tower, cameras at the Japanese Tea garden, cameras at Millennium Park, cameras at the Cal Academy of Sciences, cameras at the Shedd Aquarium.  And all these people, on vacation, so intent on recording everything that they are doing, that they almost seem to forget they are doing it at all.

So many times I have watched someone video taping a museum utterly ignoring their spouse or, more often, children.  Once I saw a dad with two video cameras taped together (making a homemade 3D film, I suppose) shooing his children out of his shots at the Monterey Bay Aquarium.  I wonder if he will ever even look at his film after his vacation is over...

There is something to be said for living in the moment.  An old adage goes, "The past is history, the future a mystery, but now is a gift, that's why they call it the present."

So John and I are enjoying this week, right here, right now, in the present.  And while there won't be pictures, there will be laughter, fun, relaxation, relationship, and memories.  Our Kodak moments will be the rarest kind, the lived ones.

Happy Summer Vacation!

Father's Day at the Botanic Garden

At Millenium Park Last Week

Food for Thought

Last Sunday I was the guest preacher at Irving Park Lutheran Church.  Though my usual philosophy of substituting is to keep the sermon short and sweet, this week I actually preached a longer sermon than I would normally.  The Old Testament text was the Binding of Isaac, one of the most challenging texts in the whole Bible, and I wanted to give the lesson its due.  Jay commented, "When you are only at a church for one week you don't have to hold anything back!"  So true.  Thanks to Pr. Brooke Peterson for inviting me and the good people of Irving Park Lutheran for their warm hospitality.

Genesis 22:1-14, Romans 6:12-23, Matthew 10:40-42

Second Sunday after Pentecost, June 26th 2011

Irving Park Lutheran Church, Chicago, IL

Pr. Katie Hines-Shah

Grace and peace to you from God our Creator and our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, Amen.

For those of you who might be wondering how Pastor Peterson got taller and became brunette over the last week, let me introduce myself.  My name is Pr. Katie Hines-Shah.  I'm part of Pr. Peterson's text study and having recently moved to Chicago from Berkeley I'm currently between churches and available to fill in.  Pr. Peterson is off for some well-deserved rest and relaxation and I'm happy to be here with all of you.

I am especially happy to be here with all of you knowing how summer has a tendency to thin the ranks in the pews.  Between the warm weather, vacation, baseball games, and street fairs there are many reasons not to attend church.  When pastor is on vacation and some yahoo from California is filling in even stalwart members might be tempted to sleep in.  Let me just be the first to say to you, the faithful, it is good to be here with everyone at Irving Park Lutheran who is going to heaven.

I am joking.  But there is a grain of truth in everything I just said.  As we enter into the summer and into the long green season of Pentecost it bears noting: Being a Christian can be hard work.  It is easy to be a Christian on Easter and Christmas when the whole western world is in tune with our festivities and feasts.  It is in the ordinary time when faith can become a slog and when our commitment can be tested.

I've been thinking about the slog of the ordinary a lot lately.  As I have been on what we're calling my sabbatical for the last six months I've been focusing a great deal on having a healthy body, specifically on loosing weight.

The specific plan I've been following is the usual weight loss advice - basically a long slog of eat-less exercise-more.  One small twist is that on this diet you are allowed to eat most fruits and vegetables freely.  It's a pretty good way to nudge people toward better habits.  But, of course, some people get creative.

Recently I read an on line post about a woman who claimed to be following the diet yet was frustrated by not loosing any weight.  When other dieters asked her about her habits, specifically involving fruit and vegetable eating she said, "Oh, I don't like fruits or vegetables.  Whenever I get hungry I just think, "Hmm, I'm hungry enough to eat an apple - an apple has about 80 calories - and then I eat 80 calories of candy instead."  Hmmm - I wonder why the diet wasn't working for her...

Of course anything worthwhile may be challenging at times.  Going to college is fun during parties and football games, less so during finals and while writing papers.  Everyone loves a wedding, but the actual work of marriage is less glamorous.  Baby showers T-Ball games and Christmas morning are great with kids.  The chicken pox, orthodontist appointments, and calls from the principal somewhat less so.  I'm sure you can come up with many other examples.

So today, on a slow summer Sunday during ordinary time, when we are confronted with one of the most difficult texts in the entirety of the Bible, it would be easy to reach for the candy of the short and sweet text from the Gospel of Matthew.  But we are not going to do that my sisters and brothers!  Not today!  Because we are the few, the faithful, the people who come to church during the summer - and we are up for the challenge!  Let me here an Amen here! 

So here goes.

The Binding of Isaac, as I have said before, is among the most challenging texts of the Bible, so I am going to tell you upfront, we are not going to cover it completely to anyone's satisfaction here today.  If Soren Kierkegaard couldn't do it in a whole book, than Pr. Katie and the good people of Irving Park Lutheran are not going to accomplish it in twelve minutes.  But that's okay.  Texts like this are the sorts of spiritual food that we can continue to chew on our whole lives long.  The three great monotheistic faiths, Judaism, Christianity, and Islam have and thought and wondered and dreamt this story for literally thousands of years.  We will find something of value here.

I'll recap the back-story briefly.  Abram, a desert nomad, and his barren wife Sarai are chosen by God.  God gives them new names, Abraham and Sarah, and sends them to a new land with the promise that through them a great nation will be born.  Yet as the years pass, Sarah has no children.  Only when they are quite old, grandparent age really, is God's promise fulfilled.  Sarah becomes pregnant and gives birth to a son.  They name the boy "Laughter" or Isaac in their language.

Fast-forward to today's text.  Once again God speaks to Abraham but this time he tells Abraham to sacrifice Isaac as a burnt offering to God.  Abraham prepares to obey.  As they near the mountain of sacrifice Abraham directs Isaac to carry the wood for the offering up the mountain himself.  Abraham prepares the altar, binds Isaac on top of it, and prepares to kill him with a knife.  At the last moment an angel stays Abraham's hand and Isaac is spared.  God provides a ram for Abraham to sacrifice instead.  Here ends the reading.

As a parent, a parent of an only son, it's hard to recount this story.  I imagine it's hard for many of you to hear it too.  But as I said before, faith, like any worthwhile endeavor, isn't easy.  We are ready to work hard to see what this story might be telling us today.

First let us consider the story from Abraham's point of view.  Abraham, up until recently had done really well for himself, when it came to the basics.  God has given Abraham flocks and slaves, land and a good wife - just about everything.  But without a son born in wedlock, in the ancient world Abraham was nothing.  The son God gives him, the boy named laughter, Isaac, secures Abraham’s legacy.  But then comes the challenge.  God tells Abraham to sacrifice his son.  Will Abraham do it?  Can he obey?

Abraham's obedience to God as centerpiece of this story, his submission to God's will, is the classic Muslim way of interpreting this text.  And though none of us have faced Abraham's dilemma, perhaps in a small way we can relate.  There are times when we are called to be obedient, even when we do not understand the ends of a plan.  Indeed there are times we are called to obey because we cannot understand the places in which we find ourselves.

Some examples: A small child is grabbed before she can chase a ball into the street.  A soldier is given an order not knowing all of the general's plans.  A college student is told he must take science math and English before he can graduate.  An addict is told to "Fake it until you make it."  Perhaps the end of such obedience will become clear, perhaps not.  The people involved trust that those making the rules have a greater vision than they do.

There is an old hymn that goes, "Our lives are just one page, God sees from age to age."  Though it rankles our American spirit of independence, there is truth to what St. Paul says in the epistle.  Our choice is not whether or not to be slaves, it is who we would be slaves to.  We are always giving obedience to someone or something.  God seems most likely to have our best interests at heart.

Indeed we who are gathered here today know the value of obedience.  There are people here today who can tell you that coming to church on Sundays, saying their prayers and reading their Bibles has saved their marriages, kept them off drugs, given them hope.  I know these people are here because they are in every church.  They know that being obedient to God, however hard and counterintuitive it might sometimes be, has value.  They know that putting God first sometimes puts the rest of life in better order.  And perhaps this message, Abraham's message, is a good lesson for us today.

But it isn't the end of the story.  You see, there's Isaac's point of view too.  Renaissance art and our own imaginings often depict Isaac as a child, a boy of six or eight.  Yet following Biblical chronology the Isaac in the story is at least a strapping teenager or even, according to the Talmud, as old as 37.   Abraham himself was already in his 90s when Isaac was born and is over 100 when the story begins.  There's simply no way such frail, elderly man could have forced Isaac onto the altar.  We conclude that Isaac must have gone willingly to what he imagined would be his death.

This is the traditional Christian view of this text.  Isaac, who carries the wood himself up Mt. Moriah, becomes a forerunner to Jesus who carries his own cross up Golgotha.  And, though none of us have walked in Isaac's shoes, perhaps, in some small way, we can relate.  We have all sometimes sacrificed something important to us for the greater good.

Some examples.  A dieter gives up a piece of cake to fit into a smaller pair of jeans.  A student gives up his place in the orchestra so that he can better focus on his studies.  A spouse gives up a job to move for a partner's career.  A parent gives up a hobby to spend more time helping out around the house.

We who are gathered here today know something of sacrifice.  Jesus does not sugarcoat the call of the disciple.  Jesus tells his followers; Jesus tells us we may be called to give up prosperity, security, and even family to follow his way.  We have all given up something to be part of a congregation.  We have given our time to committee meetings, to worship, and to study.  We have given our talents in the choir, teaching Sunday School, organizing the food pantry.  We have given our treasure - our tithes sustain this place and nourish the world.  It isn't easy, but we think, like St. Paul, that faith is worth the cost.  Life in Christ leads to eternal life, both here and in the world to come.  What could be greater than that?

But this is not the end of the story either.  There is one more piece to keep in mind.  In the ancient world archeologists and historians tell us that child sacrifice was not uncommon.  Abraham and Isaac may not have been surprised at the initial command of the story.  As the story reaches its climax, however, Abraham's hand is stayed and Isaac is spared.  God intervenes in the midst of disaster.

This is the traditional Jewish way of viewing this story, and, at least for me, it speaks most clearly. Jewish writings say that this isn't a story about Abraham's obedience, or Isaac's willingness to be sacrificed.  The heart of the Genesis story instead is this: God provides for us and brings hope when all seems lost.  Indeed, I think many of us, most of us, know this experience too.  Whatever else has brought us to church, this is what keeps us here. 

Author Annie Lammott writes about being an alcoholic, in a dead end relationship, and going broke.  Yet she felt the presence of God nudging at her door "like a stray cat," until she couldn't help but let God in.  And on that day her life changed for the better. 

I know other examples.  A woman's partner has a stroke and she prays that God will let her live, no matter the cost.  And though the partner has lost her short-term memory and life is not easy, the woman says, "I thank God every day for her life."  A ministry student looses her mother to cancer and years later finds that God uses the experience she has to help minister to others.  If God can bring healing from death itself, what can our God not achieve?

The God of Abraham and Isaac, like the God of Noah, proclaims a new rule: Other gods may demand obedience, sacrifice, and death.  Our God, in the words of Paul, will be a God of freedom, grace, and life.  Indeed Isaac becomes a Christian allegory for humanity when he is saved by an innocent ram (lamb) who we see as Christ's own self.

Are you with me here?  Because this is big stuff.  And perhaps it's time to take a step back and take a breath.  Being a Christian, like any worthwhile endeavor, can be difficult.  But that doesn't always mean it has to be.

An example: I told you before that I have been dieting.  For five months I have done a number of little things - measuring my yogurt, counting my potato chips, paying attention to how much time I spend on the treadmill.  Little things, baby steps, yet added together they pay off.  Since January I've lost 29 pounds.  I know, I can hardly believe it myself.

Today's Gospel comes from section of Matthew where Jesus warns his disciples that there will be challenges, some greater than others.  But that doesn't mean that some are unimportant.  Everyone has work to do.

Not everyone will be called to be a prophet.  But welcoming a prophet is important.  Not everyone will be known as a righteous person.  But those who aid a righteous person's work will do good too.  Even if you think of yourself as just a little one, even if you offer nothing more than a cup of cold water, God has use for you in God's kingdom. 

As this summer begins what might you do to further the kingdom?  Can you commit to weekly worship, daily prayer, or regular Bible study?  Are you ready to sign up to be a Sunday School teacher, an altar guild member, a food pantry worker?  Can you write a letter to your congressperson or call your senator about an important issue?  Will you be faithful to your pledge or offer additional gifts to Lutheran World Relief or Lutheran Social Services?  Can you share a kind word with your neighbor or coworker, spouse or child?  Truly I tell you, these little things make a difference in the kingdom of God.

God is a God of life.  God will never call on us to an obedience to kill like Abraham's.  God will never ask us to sacrifice ourselves needlessly die like Isaac.  God calls us to obey and to sacrifice so that life might be more abundant for all.  And more that that, beyond the challenges that the world will inevitably send our way, God will walk with us providing hope. 

This summer may we be faithful in small ways.  God give us courage to live the life of faith and to see such hope.

Thanks be to God,

Amen

Father's Day?

Last week John and I were looking for Father's Day cards for the men in our lives.  The display was large.  There were cards of every design.  You could buy cards for not just your father or grandfather but for your uncle, stepfather, husband, or brother.  There were even Father's Day cards from the cat.  But when it came to themes the variety stopped.

You can buy Father's Day Cards about golf.  Or grilling.  Or lawn care.  You can by cards about how you bought too much clothing as a young woman or drove the car too much as a young man.  There are cards about remote controls.  And there are lots of cards about bodily functions.  But that's about it.

And none of these really suit my father or John's.

This Father's Day just so happens to be Trinity Sunday.  This Sunday we celebrate God in all God's fullness.  Theologians over time have developed specific vocabulary - three persons, one substance, beings that are the same and not merely similar, etc, but basically Trinity Sunday boils down to celebrating the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit and the mystery of their connection.

Mystery and fancy theological language may be all well and good for a lot of things, but it doesn't preach very well.  A lot of pastors I know dislike Trinity Sunday almost as much as their parishioners.  I know that aside from singing "Holy, Holy, Holy" I certainly could let it slide.  But this year it struck me this week that perhaps we need Trinity Sunday.  Perhaps our own vision of God is as limited as Hallmark's vision of fathers.

Case in point:  John and I were once driving when he asked me a theological question.  (I think there is something about sitting in the backseat that brings up theological questions - perhaps it is the modern version of a confessional? But I digress) John asked me, "Mama, is God a boy or a girl?"

As a well-rounded, open-minded, religious leader, I gave John the whole story.  "In Genesis it says that humankind is created in God's image, both male and female...Jesus calls God "Father" but there are also female images of God in the Bible, as a woman who nurses her children or as a woman who kneads bread...Jesus even compares himself to a mother hen...The Holy Spirit doesn't have a gender, but in Hebrew..."

John cut me off.  In a voice as authoritative as any 5 year old can pull off he said, "Mama, I think God is a man.  With a white beard.  Like Santa Claus."

Keep in mind that John had, at this point, not only never had another pastor but me but had also lived his whole life in Berkeley, California.  This image of God, as an old man and traditional father must be in the air.

And God as Father isn't the worst vision of God, far from it.  A vision of a loving father can help us come close to God.  To be invited into an intimacy with God like that Jesus shared is an awesome privilege.  I pray to the Father as often as not.  But it's important to remember, this isn't the end of the story.

Hallmark doesn't have the whole story when it comes to dads.  I know there are lots of dads who golf, and mow, and grill and the like.  I know that dads like this are often exemplary men who love their children and care for them.  But they aren't the men in my life.

My dad builds scenery and cooks and draws funny pictures.  And my husband, John's father, follows politics; watches costume dramas, and goes to church.  And they are excellent dads too.

God is Father, yes.  But God is also Jesus, the Word incarnate who walked among us sharing our common life and dying (and rising) for the sake of us all.  God is Father, yes, but also the Holy Spirit, who give us faith, enlivens the church, and sends us into the world.  Just as we need to acknowledge different kinds of dads, we need to acknowledge the fullness of God too.

Happy Father's Day..And Son Day..And Holy Spirit Day too!

Ordinary Time

It's been awhile since I posted anything.  I might blame it on the fact that I had hoped to blog about my new call at Valpo (which another candidate has now accepted) or the fact that I'm subsequently busily networking in the Lutheran world again.  Both are true statements of what I've been doing, but neither is really the reason I haven't been blogging.

I haven't been blogging because everything has been, well, so ordinary. 

I get up, take John to school, head to the gym, meet with some pastors, do some errands, pick up John, make dinner, spend some time with Jay, and go to bed.  Lather, rinse, repeat. 

This isn't to say that I'm not very much enjoying my sabbatical or that I'm not getting a lot out of it.  I love getting to spend so much time with John and Jay!  I'm going to bi-monthly art history lectures at the Art Institute of Chicago!  I have lost 21 lbs since January!  But it's just that it doesn't seem like there's all that much to write about.

And then came Holy Week.

For the first time in nine years I was on the other side of the pulpit and altar during the final days of Lent and Easter Sunday.  What usually was a marathon of services to be performed became a deep and rich opportunity to worship.  The Hines-Shahs (including John) worshipped at all the services of the great Triduum (including the Easter Vigil at LSTC and Augustana) and were part of the hordes at Grace Evanston for Easter Sunday.  And while I felt a little sad not to be leading it all, I found myself more aware on Easter 2 than I have been in recent years.

The story of Thomas and the risen Christ may be really what its all about.

Don't get me wrong, I love Easter Sunday, the women, the stone rolled away, Peter and John and angels and "gardener" just as I love lilies, big organ music, a full church, dynamic sermon and exciting hats.  But as exciting as all this is, we all know it doesn't last.

Two pastor friends posted on Facebook this week that they have lost their voices.  Several more are sick.  The organist at Grace has to get back to the mandatory training for his new day job.  The unclaimed hydrangeas and lilies are drying out on a back pew.  The risen Christ has left the building.

Or has he?

When a doubting Thomas, having missed all the festivities, demands to see a sign.  And there, before his very eyes, appears Christ raised.  But does he come with angels and lilies, crowds and preludes?  No.  Christ is there before Thomas, to an ordinary guy in an ordinary room, in an ordinary body, a body that can be touched.

But more than that, Christ comes to Thomas in a wounded body, still marked with the signs of the crucifixion.  It is only then that Thomas proclaims him, "My Lord and my God."

Isn't this really the miracle of Easter?  Not that God is so great and so powerful that not even death can hold him, we knew that already didn't we?  No, rather it is that God is so great and so powerful that death cannot hold him AND YET he comes among us to be held and to hold us in return.  In other words, the risen Christ isn't just an Easter Sunday God, he's a Sunday after Easter (and Monday and Tuesday and Friday) God too.

God is in the midst of my ordinariness and there reveals wonderful things.

I'm grateful for the lesson and the time.

In the Same Boat

The cat's out of the bag.  I'm preaching today at Valparaiso University as one of their final candidates for ELCA Pastor.  Keep me in your prayers!

John 3:1-17

Thursday Morning Chapel; March 24th 2011

Chapel of the Resurrection, Valparaiso University; Valparaiso, IN

Pr. Katie Hines-Shah

Our hearts have gone out to our sisters and brothers in Japan in the wake of the Sendai Earthquake and its aftermath.  Two weeks ago a 9.0 earthquake struck just off the coast of Japan.  The Tsunami that followed was even more devastating, flooding communities along the coast.  Three nuclear reactors failed to shut down, spewing dangerous levels radiation into the air.  We weep.  We watch.  We pray.  We send money and aid.  And yet, we are stuck by our own human impotence. 

I brought this image with me today.  It's a print called the Great Wave of Karagawa by the artist Hokusai. It's in the collection of one of my favorite places, the Art Institute of Chicago.  The print is dominated by the great wave, dwarfing even Mt. Fuji in the distance. Looking upon it, we feel the futility of human preparations.  It does not matter how many tsunami drills have been offered.  What chance do the tiny people have against such force?

While few of us have ever faced a natural disaster on the scale of Japan's, I think we can all relate to the feeling of powerlessness.  We all experience tsunamis that leave us battered and broken.  A failing grade in a class required for a major.  An injury in the middle of the season.  The ending of a relationship that we thought was "the one."  Brokenness in our families.  Job loss. Depression.  Sickness.  Death.  Are these not each tsunamis in their own right?  When we reach the end of our ability to prepare, when we reach the end of our ability understand, like Nicodemus we lament, "How can these things be?"

Nicodemus, the Gospel tells us, came to Jesus by night.  I suppose his reasons could have been many.  Much is made in commentaries about the Gospel writer's use of darkness and light.  Some say that Nicodemus is a sinister character, slinking to Jesus only when others cannot notice.  Yet, I wonder if Nicodemus comes to Jesus as we do.  I wonder if a tsunami of life has knocked him off his feet, leaving him powerless and broken.  I wonder if after Nicodemus has exhausted all reason, in a sleepless night of questions, he finally comes to Jesus to seek his aid.

Isn't that so often what it takes?  Is not Jesus so often our very last resort?  Author Annie Lamott writes there are only two true prayers, both best prayed in public restrooms at times of greatest need.  They are "Thank you thank you thank you," and "Help me help me help me."  Nicodemus' instance would be, of course, the later.

When Nicodemus prays for help, Jesus' does not simply tell Nicodemus that bad things happen because its God's will.  Too often, in the wake of disaster we are quick to try to find and name the will of God.  But platitudes like, "God has a plan," and "All things happen for a reason," are no comfort.  We, who like Nicodemus, cannot understand earthly things, how can we presume to understand the workings of heaven?  Jesus, for his chiding, knows the limits of our powers.  So he offers a new way.  A way of love. 

Jesus tells Nicodemus, Jesus tells us, that God loves us and our fallen world.  God loves us so much that Jesus comes to be with us, right in the thick of our lives.  God comes to us in our "thanks yous", yes, but also our "help mes."  And this is so important, my brothers and sisters.  It does not matter if our particular tsunami comes to us as innocents or, as it did to Moses' people, by our own fault.  No matter what has been done to us, God abides with us.   No matter what we have done to ourselves, God will not forsake us.  God come to us in love.  God comes, Jesus promises, not to condemn us, but to save us.  Thanks be to God!

Can I have an Amen here?

So what then, how are we to respond?

A few years ago a family in crisis came wanted to meet with me.  The family had only been in the church for a year or two.  I had baptized both of children, who now were five and seven.  I wanted to talk to the family in a way that the children would understand, so I told the story of Noah and the Ark.  My intent had been to emphasize the idea that though the waters might rise and though rains would come, no one would be left behind.  God would see this family through.

At the end of the story I asked the children what part of the story was about them.  To my surprise, the seven year old turned the question around.  'What part of the story is about you, Pr. Katie?"  "What do you think?" I said.  "I think," she said carefully, "That you and the church are the ark.  That you and the church will keep us safe in the storm."

Do you see the long canoes in the Hokusai print?  The wave might be great, but the people find strength in the power of the ship.  Jesus' life giving death holds us empowering us, as Luther says, "To be little Christ's one to another." 

On this, the anniversary of Oscar Romero's martyrdom we remember that the power of faith enabled poor and powerless people to face down a corrupt  and well armed government.  It gave them power beyond there strength and numbers.  It gave them power even beyond death itself.

This is the promise we hold as we walk through the season of Lent.  That no disaster or tragedy, not even death can overcome the great love of God.   Knowing the love of Jesus holds us, come what may, I think that when we face tsunamis we can turn to the church and to each other.  Through the grace of God, together with the people of Japan we will find life anew.

Thank you thank you, thank you God!

Amen

Blessed Assurance

I'm preaching tonight at Grace, Evanston for their midweek worship.  This image, The Great Wave off Kanagawa by Katsushika Hokusai is in the permanent collection of the Art Institute of Chicago.

Psalm 46:1-3

First Wednesday of Lent, March 16, 2011

Grace Lutheran; Evanston, IL

Pr. Katie Hines-Shah

Our hearts go out to the Japanese people as news of last Friday's 9.0 Earthquake and its aftermath continue to unfold. The disaster is beyond our comprehension.  Earthquake.  Tsunami.  Nuclear meltdown.  We watch.  We hope.  We pray.  We send money and aid.  We look for assurance in human ability to prepare for such crisis.  Yet no assurance can be found.

It is a terrible truth that the Japanese people are perhaps the best-prepared people in the world for such catastrophe.  Japanese buildings are constructed to withstand earthquake.  Japanese people, young children to elderly adults, routinely practice tsunami drills.  Japanese nuclear engineers are some of the best trained in the world.  And yet, homes are damaged.  Lives are lost, entire communities are obliterated.  And the tragedy is not yet done.  From where will help come?

It is in times like these that there is only one answer.  Our help comes from the name of the Lord.

The Psalmist knows the depths of our human story. While few of us will face an actual tsunami, we will all face disasters beyond our comprehension.  Sickness.  Job loss.  Divorce.  Depression.  Death.  In times like these even the best preparations can fail.  There is no assurance save one.

No matter what happens God will not forsake us. No matter what has been done to us God does not abandon us.  No matter what we have done ourselves God will not leave our sides.  Though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging, God is with the people of Japan.  God is with us.  God is with us all to the end.  Even to the cross.

Thanks be to God.

Amen

First Things First

Jay, John and I have been worshiping at a number of churches, but most often we go to our closest church, Grace Lutheran in Evanston.  This month Grace has emphasized its Reconciling in Christ Status (which means that Grace intentionally welcomes GLBTQ folks).  This Sunday Pastor Dan Ruen invited me to preach.

Matthew 6: 24-34, Isaiah 49:8-16a, 1st Corinthians 4: 1-5

Epiphany 8A, February 27th, 2011

Grace Lutheran, Evanston, IL

Katie Hines-Shah

Grace and peace to you from God our Creator and our Lord Jesus Christ.

Amen

Let me just say, it is good to be here this Sunday preaching at Grace.  For those of you who don't recognize me, let me introduce myself.  My name is Katie Hines-Shah.   For the past few months my family has been worshiping here at Grace.  We recently moved to Evanston from Berkeley California, and yes, in case you are wondering, we moved here for the weather.

Actually the weather is a real highlight.  Our six-year-old son, John had only experienced snow in isolated incidents before we moved here.  I realized a few weeks into our move that he had never actually seen it snow.  For all he knew snow grew up out of the ground or was deposited by magic fairies in the night.  It just as plausible as falling out of the sky, I suppose.

That's one of the wonderful things about having children.  They help us see the world through a new set of lenses; they help us experience reality as a new vision.  Which, of course, was much the same thing Jesus was always trying to do with his strange parables and odd teachings.  Jesus was trying to introduce us to something he called "The Kingdom of God."

In today's Gospel comes to its emotional and rhetorical pinnacle when Jesus urges his disciples to seek first the Kingdom of God.  But here's the problem.  I don't think the people of Jesus' time really knew what Jesus meant by the Kingdom of God, just as we have a hard time imagining it now.

Jesus’ early followers thought that the kingdom of God would be a very specific place, namely Jerusalem, but not as it stood then.  No, Jesus’ early followers imagined that the kingdom of God would look like a Jerusalem purged of Romans, filled with God fearing Jews and a restored temple.  Sometimes modern Christians think the kingdom of God looks like this too.  But Jesus was adamant.  The kingdom of God would not be some kind of specific place.  The kingdom of God is more than that.

Most modern day Christians have an idea not of where the Kingdom of God is but when it will be.  They would say that the kingdom of God is some kind of a time, a time far off from today.  They imagine the kingdom of God as some kind of a heaven, or some kind of a philosophical idea to be achieved in some far distant future. Or at least they’d like to put off the kingdom of God until after school was over or the kids were done with soccer or when they retired.  But Jesus was adamant.  The kingdom of God cannot wait.  The kingdom of God is here now.

What the kingdom of God looks like is pretty clear.  Jesus’ first sermon in Luke centers on it.  His earthly ministry makes it evident.  His parables and teachings revolve around it.  The kingdom of God looks exactly like our first lesson from Isaiah today.  The kingdom of God will be a time and a place where the desolate will be lifted up, when the prisoners will be freed, where no one will hunger or thirst, when all will walk in safety and suffering will come to an end.  That’s the kingdom of God.  And the kingdom of God, Jesus reminds his disciples, reminds us today, is to be our first priority.

The kingdom of God is here, the kingdom of God us now, and we will see it if we are willing to put it first.

And this, my sisters and brothers, is one of the great challenges of faith.  Are we willing to put aside other very real, very important concerns, to embrace Jesus' radical vision of peace and justice?  Do we realize what might happen when we do seek out the kingdom?

I've been thinking about the kingdom of God a lot over these last few weeks.  Jesus' radical vision of justice for all people continues to speak to inequalities within our world and within our church.  I've been thinking specifically about the way our world and the way our church treats sexual minorities, gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgendered people.

Coming from Berkeley, California I had the experience of working with and walking with several pastors who were in gay and lesbian relationships.  They were not allowed to be ordained within the ELCA's systems and so were, as Krister Stendhal named it "Extra-ordinarily ordained."  Two of the churches that performed such ordinations were removed from the ELCA as a consequence.

Looking for the kingdom first for these pastors, for these congregations, came at a cost.  I know that congregations have lost pledges and members as a result of having these conversations.   Some have used the ELCA's movement toward inclusion as an excuse to withhold money from our greater national church.   Our Churchwide office has laid off many employees, including some Grace members.

And that is why, my sisters and brothers, that it is so important to remember that when Jesus promises us that seeking first the kingdom of God means that everything we need will be added to us that this isn't some kind of prosperity Gospel.  Putting the kingdom first does not mean that all of our dreams will be fulfilled.  Do not believe any of the Joel Orsteens, those preachers who promise that the life of a Christian comes means success, money, and happiness.  Remember, Dr. King and Dietrich Bonheoffer, eleven of the twelve disciples, and Jesus himself died for the faith.  While you and I may not be asked to sacrifice so much, perhaps this is a good reminder.  Seeking the kingdom does not mean earthly success, not necessarily, anyway.  But there's a flip side.  Finding the kingdom means finding something that sorrow and hardship cannot touch.  Not even death can take the riches of the kingdom away.

The trick, then, is learning to see the kingdom where it can be found.  That's why we listen to these stories of Jesus, why we come to this place week after week, why we read our Bibles, why we pray.  It's to learn to see the way of God's Kingdom of justice and peace.  A kingdom that is like a mustard seed and some leaven in the dough.  Like a treasure in a field and a pearl bought for a great price.  It is a place where the poor, the meek, the mourning, and the persecuted are named blessed.  It is a place right here, right now, for each of us, if we know what to look for.  We need some new lenses. 

As I said earlier, children can help with that.  When my son John was about eighteen months old he had basically two words.  Wow-wow and Woo-woo.  A wow-wow, of course, was a dog, and a woo-woo was, of course a train.  These were his two favorite things in the world and everywhere we'd go he'd be on the look out for them.

I remember once I was driving and all the sudden John excitedly started yelling "wow-wow, wow-wow" from the back seat.  I looked around, as much as someone driving can, but could see no dog.

Gently I said to John, "Honey, there's no dog, I know you'd like to see a dog but there's just no one out right now.  Maybe later we can go to the park and see a dog..." And then I saw it.  Four blocks ahead - a dog - pulling at its owner's leash.

On another occasion my husband Jay and I were in the back yard when John started yelling "woo-woo, woo-woo!"  We parents listened, but could hear no train.  We thought perhaps John had brought a toy train outside, or wanted his train book, or had some other train related thought, and then we heard it.  In the distance.  A train.

At first Jay and I thought we hadn't seen the dog, we hadn't heard the train because we were getting old.  We thought maybe our eyesight wasn't what it once was or that our ears weren't as keen as they were when we were small.  Which I suppose could be true, but I don't think is the whole story.  I think that the reason that John was so good at seeing dogs and hearing trains was that this was all he was looking for.  John could care less about other motorists or traffic signals.  All he wanted to see were dogs.  John could care less about the whirl of the lawn mower or the beep of the timer on the stove.  All he wanted to hear were trains.  He had simply filtered out everything that was unimportant to him.

Seek first the Kingdom of God, Jesus says.  Do not worry about everything else, including what you are going to eat or what you are going to wear.  Filter those things out because they are less important.  Look for the kingdom, encourage each other on the way.  What you really need will be given to you.  It is happening even now.

The kingdom is here even now.  The kingdom of God is just a little more visible for GLBT people this week.

This week we heard word that the Obama administration will no longer defend the Defense Of Marriage Act.  Its a small step, and certainly there's a long way to go, but I believe it is a sign that the kingdom of God is coming a little bit nearer.

The Kingdom of God is coming near.  It is here in our ELCA churches.  In 2009 at the ELCA Churchwide Assembly the ban against gay and lesbian clergy in committed relationships was lifted, and gradually that message of justice has been coming into our synods and churches.  Just last week I traveled with a whole carload of Grace folks to a workshop about extending the welcome to GLBT folks inside and outside our parishes.  Today in California St. Francis, one of the two congregations expelled for ordaining gay and lesbian pastors will officially rejoin the ELCA.  Sure we still have a long way to do, but isn't it good to see this early sign?

A friend of mine from North Carolina posted an update on Facebook this week.  "Open daffodil sighting.  This is not a drill."  He wanted us all to know, winter's end it at hand, spring is coming.  We are spotters of the Kingdom in the same way, pointing out the earliest signs to give each other hope, until the Kingdom is evident for all.

Of course this means we have work to do.  The Apostle Paul says that we are bearers of the mysteries, and with this fancy title comes great responsibility.  With our vision of the kingdom, we need to be workers for justice and peace.  Don't worry, there's plenty of work to go around.  Whether you see the kingdom coming in the work of revolutionaries in the Middle East, or in protests in neighboring states, or in extending the welcome in our churches, there is something for everyone.  We can pray.  We can write letters.  We can organize.  We can put our money where our morals are.  We can dare to bring in the kingdom because we know that Christ has already won the ultimate victory for us.  The Kingdom of God cannot be stopped.

This week watch and listen.  Filter out what's less important.  Encourage each other on the way.  Be on the watch for the kingdom of God.  It’s right here, in Evanston.  It’s right now, in February.  Be a part of helping it bloom.

Thanks be to God,

Amen

Freedom For

I had the pleasure of preaching at Augustana Lutheran in Hyde Park this Sunday.  It's good to be back in the saddle.

Matthew 5:21-37, Deuteronomy 30:15-20, 1st Corinthians 3:1-9, Psalm 119

Epiphany 6A, February 13th 2011

Augustana Lutheran Church, Chicago, IL

Pr. Katie Hines-Shah

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ.

Before some of you start wondering how Pr. Palmer managed to grow a few inches taller and get a little blonder, let me introduce myself.  My name is Pr. Katie Hines-Shah.  I am most recently from Berkeley, California.  And yes, in case you're wondering, my family moved here for the weather. 

In California I was pastor of Shepherd of the Hills Lutheran Church, the congregation closest to Pacific Lutheran Theological Seminary, which seems very appropriate since my teaching parish training was here at Augustana Lutheran.  I graduated from The Divinity School at the University of Chicago.  Before that I went to college in a little town called Northfield, MN, although, I must confess, I did not go to the Lutheran School that Pr. Gorder, Pr. Palmer, and Cantor Schwandt attended.  I went to the other school.

There are many other ways I could supply my credentials, many other ways I could establish my authority, my detriments, or our common ground.  Here in Hyde Park, I'm sure you all know the drill.  You have all had these conversations, where you were born where you were confirmed, where you attended school, where you have taught, where you have published, what Lutheran persons of renown you can share anecdotes about, which fiord or village or stadt your forefathers and mothers hail from, perhaps even which Superbowl team you rooted for last week.  But now that we've gone to all that trouble, when we come to the epistle, it quickly becomes apparent. 

None of these things really matters.

The people of Corinth were as good at this game as I am, and as good as you are too, and Paul chides us for it.  "What is this Apollos?"  "What is this Paul?"  "What is this St. Olaf"  "What is this Martin Marty?"  There is only one name that defines us, and that is Christ.

We are all, first and foremost, children of God.  And as children of God we are freed by grace from all the ephemera that ruled us before.

We are children of God.  And as children of God we are freed by grace. 

Let me say that one more time.  We are children of God.  And as children of God, we are freed by grace.

My sisters and brothers, this is so important to remember, especially in light of Gospel texts like today's.  Because if you don't keep that subtext in mind, you might take today's Gospel reading the wrong way.

Now I know that most of you, blizzard or no, have been in church the last two Sundays, and so you are aware, today's gospel is just a small part of a greater whole.  But in case you weren't able to come, here's the brief recap: For the last two weeks and for two more after this one, we are in the midst of Jesus' great teaching moment, his Sermon on the Mount.

I'm not going to get into whether Jesus actually preached this all in one marathon session or whether this is series of sayings collected later into a cohesive whole, but this much is clear, in the two week's previous, the overall theme of Jesus' teaching has been grace.

Two weeks ago we heard the beatitudes.  "Blessed, blessed, blessed, Jesus says, eleven times in a row, assuring us of God's love for us.  No matter if we are poor or mourning, meek or persecuted, our primary identity is blessed by virtue of God's grace.

Last week we heard Jesus say, "You are the salt of the earth".  Last week we heard Jesus say, "You are light for the world."   Jesus did not equivocate here.  He did not say, "You could be salt, if only you got to church more."  Jesus did not say, "You might be light, if only you did more good deeds."  No, for light still shines, even under a basket.  And salt still functions, even if it is tramped under foot, as many of us know on these blizzard days.

Our primary identity as children of God cannot be taken away by tragedies and travails of the world.  Our identity as children of God cannot be thrown away by our own works or deeds.  Nothing and no one can take away the fact we've been freed by grace.  Thanks be to God!

But let's not get too comfortable here.  As the martyr Dietrich Bonheoffer reminds us, there is no such thing as cheap grace.  We have been freed for a purpose.  Our rights as children of God call us to responsibility as well.  And that's where today's Gospel, and its voice of Law, comes in.

I like to think that I know a thing or two about the law.  My husband Jay, baptized here at Augustana, is a lawyer, but only barred in California.  He's currently studying for the Illinois Bar, coming up at the end of this month.   So as Jay studies I've been overhearing some of the bar review lectures and some of the questions he's been working on.  And sometimes I like to "help."  Most of the questions are pretty technical and, to tell you the truth boring, but one scenario Jay listened to recently stands out on this Sunday.  Here goes:

In a state park rangers have clearly posted that fires are not to be left unattended.  A camper starts a fire just as a bear charges into his campsite.  The camper runs and, by the time he returns, his neighbor's tent and car have been destroyed by fire.  Can the fire victim sue the camper who ran?

I couldn't help it, I yelled out my answer, "Sue the bear!"

Jay gently explained to me that suing the bear is not an option in the multiple choices given.  You can't sue the bear for charging any more than you can sue a tree for falling.  We can't blame God 's good Law for our own failure to follow.  And I think this is important for this Gospel lesson. 

I think that while there are some mentally disturbed people who read, "If your eye offends you, cut it off," and then, literally do so.  But I know many more of us read these hard prohibitions against anger, lust, and oaths, and think something akin to "sue the bear."  We think that these are just the sorts of words Luther was referring to when he says that the second use of the law drives us to know our need for grace.  (And, conveniently enough, this absolves us of any and all responsibility).  But I think there's a way between these two.  A middle way.

Deuteronomy can be a help. I know, you've probably never heard that one before.  How can the Law be a help?  Particularly to us Lutherans?  But Law doesn't mean just regulation and limitation.  Law can mean a new kind of freedom as well.

Remember, context is everything.  Today's Old Testament text comes at the end of the presentation of the Law in its total, Law given to the Hebrew people after their escape from Egypt.   I once read an interpretation of the Ten Commandments, the heart of Deuteronomy's Law as "Instructions on how to be free."  Remember, the Hebrew people had been slaves as far back as they could remember.  Being free is harder than it sounds.  It is easy to fall back into slavery.  Being freed we can easily fall into slaveries like self-righteousness on one side or hedonism on the other.

Can you see how that might be?  We readily understand the self-righteousness problem, after all, isn't that what the scribes and Pharisees seem to always be about following the letter of the law irrespective of its spirit.  These are the people who read Jesus' words about divorce at literally think this text condemns those who divorce.  They are like confirmation students calling each other "raca" (fool in Hebrew) to play along the edges of hellfire. 

I am here today to boldly proclaim, that the Law means something more than this.  If you have been divorced, know that God does not forsake you.  If you, like Jimmy Carter, have "lusted in your heart," know that God will not abandon you.  Wherever you feel convicted in this text, for I promise you we all do, you are not damned.  I want you to know that God's covenant of mercy and grace given in your baptism still stands.  God is not trying to catch us up by the Law.   God wants more for us all.

But that doesn't mean we should "sin all the more so that grace may abound."  The hedonism thing is a little trickier for those of us who look to a new freedom.  Think of it this way:  It might be in my best interest to bear false witness, but it certainly isn't in the best interest of a free society.  It might be in your best interest to steal, but it isn't best for us all.  To be free entails new responsibility, a new life where we are tied one to another. 

After all, that's what "religion" means.  Far from just a set of codes, the word "religion, "in at its Latin core, means "connected."  "Ligament" shares the same root.  We are connected, one to another, by means of a law given in grace.  We are freed to be united in a whole new way.

As people of faith, as a religious people, what then, will we do with our freedom?

Will we choose ways that bring us closer together with our brothers and sisters in Christ, fellow children of God?  Will we work together, as Paul says, as God's servants?  Will we choose a way of life that refrains from anger? Will we respect people's bodies as well as their minds and spirits?  Will we be people that speak truth? 

God tells us straight, there are consequences.  Not just consequences in some heaven or hell by and by.  Consequences for here and now.  For our nations, for our churches, for our schools and workplaces, for our families, for ourselves.  Now that we are free, what will we choose?  God urges us to choose life.

I've been thinking of the responsibilities of freedom this whole week as the news from Egypt comes over the radio and through the paper.  As Mubarak finally resigned on Friday, the world waits to see what the Egyptian people will do with freedom.  Will they choose a path of rigid righteousness where religious law limits freedom for all?  Will they fall into a self-indulgent hedonism where the privileges of a few outweigh the needs of the many? 

Or will they choose another way? 

Will the Egyptian people choose way that the Gospel offers?  Will they choose a way that embraces the bond of all free people?  Will secret killings and imprisonments stop?  Will women and minorities, including Christians, have rights?  Will truth be spoken or will secrets and lies pervade?  Will they choose life?

This is up to the Egyptian people.  Yet as they take their first steps of freedom, as a nation we can reflect on the same question.  Are we a nation of self-righteous pride where the poor and unfortunate are considered deserving of their suffering?  Are we a nation of hedonism where anything goes in the name of liberty?  Or will we choose the life-filled way?

Will the US stand for life and freedom for all people, inside and outside our borders?  Will we work, as a people, for equal rights for all?  Will we speak truth in our legislative halls, in our courtrooms, in our classrooms, in our churches?  Do we choose life in the fullest sense?

And in our own lives, what do we do with our freedom?  Are our lives reflections of our identity as children of God?  Do we act in ways that link us to our sisters and brothers here in Chicago and around the world?  Do we gather in places, like this one, where we can be reminded of our identity and its call?  Do we read the Bible and delight in the life its Law brings?  Can we use the promise of the Gospel to release ourselves from self-righteous bigotry and self-defeating hedonism?

We may be many things to many people, we may claim a host of identities, but do we live our live first and foremost as Christians?  We are beloved children of God freed by grace.  It is up to us what we will do with our freedom.  Let us choose life and by doing so, extend life to others.  This is our responsibility and our call.

Thanks be to God.

Amen

John Documents the Blizzard

This is a picture John drew for his kindergarten in Berkeley.  It says "I had a snow day.  I miss you.  Hat.  I am 6 six  24 inches of snow about.   From 918 Michigan Ave IL

Then there are helpful descriptions of the picture (for Californians who might not know what things are).  Hat.  Mitten, Mitten (on each side) Coat. and Snow (marked at) 12 inches 24 inches.

I'm sure this drawing is based on this picture:

Nice job, John!