Associate Pastor’s Blog

“Save Me, Save Me, Save Me”
Palm Sunday
Mark 11:1-11
April 1, 2012

 It was about 15 years ago, that I came down with the flu.  I had moved to Minneapolis a few months earlier and was trying to make a new start.  I was 27 and still not sure about what I wanted to do.  (Not that anyone who 27 knows what they want to do in life.  At 42, I don’t know if I know any better now than I did back then, but that’s another story.)

Anyway, I came down with the flu.  I was sick for a few days, but like most people, I got better from my little illness.  I went back to work and things looked like they were getting back to normal.

Except they didn’t.

I got sick again, and this time things were worse than before.  What had started as the normal flu, became pneumonia.  I don’t think I’ve ever been that sick before.  I remember my parents calling me to see how I was.  Mom asked me if she and dad should make the 12 hour journey from Michigan to see me.  At first I said no.  I mean, I was a grown man and could take care of myself.

But I couldn’t.

About 12 hours later, I had gotten worse.  The medicine I was given at emergency wasn’t working.  I dialed the phone and called Mom late at night.  All I had to say was to come and within hours, they were on their way to take care of their son, who couldn’t take care of himself.

As I read the gospel text for Palm Sunday, I am fixated on one word, the word “hosanna.”  We only hear this word one time during the year, Palm Sunday.  It’s the word we hear the crowd as Jesus made his entry into Jerusalem.  We can imagine little kids marching up and down the isles of a sanctuary shouting Hosanna over and over again.  I used to think this was just a word of praise and in some ways, it is.  But I did some checking and found out that the word means in Greek “save or pray.”  So, the word the people were shouting was not as much shouts of joy as much as it was a distress call.

I wonder about the people shouting those words.  They were looking for help from God.  The Jews were living under the rather cruel boot of Rome and wanted freedom.  So here comes this guy on a pretty humble animal (a donkey) and the people shout for help.  But the help that arrives is not that appealing.  I mean, it looked rather silly to see this grown man on a short animal that is used more for hauling things than it was for carrying people.

Help was on way, but not in the form they expected.

Palm Sunday is normally seen as the last gasp of happy times before Maundy Thursday and Good Friday.  But maybe it’s not such a high point as it is reminding us that we are all looking for salvation and wholeness.  Maybe it’s about hitting bottom, as those in recovery say.  Maybe we realize that we can’t do it on our own and look for someone to come and save us- even if it is a fool on a donkey.

Hosanna, Hosanna. Save me, save me.  Truer words never spoken.

Go and be church.

Dennis Sanders

“Being Human”

Fifth Sunday of Lent
Psalm 51
March 25, 2012

One of my favorite television shows is the science fiction/horror series “Being Human.” The series is based on a British TV show of the same name and features a vampire, werewolf and a ghost living together in an apartment in Boston. The whole premise of the show sounds like the start of a joke and at times, there is a lot of humor as the three try to live life as humans even though they are no longer human. But the main thrust of the show is how hard it is for them to be normal. Time and time again, they get thrown into situations where they are confronted with what they have become and how hard it is to live life as it was before they left the human race. This little campy television show tells a story of the supernatural, but at its core the message is very human: we are not always who we seem to be or even who we want to be. Sooner or later, we will face the reality of how far we have fallen and how hard it is to get back up.

Cast of "Being Human"

Psalm 51 is the passage we hear every Ash Wednesday. If there ever was a downer passage, this it is. “Have mercy on me, God,according to your faithful love! Wipe away my wrongdoings according to your great compassion!” writes the psalmist. This is a guy who realizes that he’s been caught. He’s not offering a simple or formal apology, he’s being incredibly honest. He messed up. He got himself into a mess that he can’t get himself out of. He asks God for help because only God can get this writer out of the pickle that he constructed.

Our culture doesn’t really like to talk about sin. I’m not talking about sin in the I-ate-too-much-chocolate kind of way. I’m talking about how we are able to get ourselves into messes even when we don’t mean to. We want to think that we can solve any problem that comes our way and if we can’t, well, then weren’t smart enough. But the psalmist knew better. All of the pretense had gone away and the writer is left with the fact that no matter what, she will make mistakes that will hurt others and hurt God. She realize that it is only God that can make her clean and can right the relationship which has been broken.

As we journey towards the cross, we are reminded that salvation comes only not through us trying to make things right, though we will try. Salvation comes in the one that washes us daily, that makes us able to praise God with a right and renewed spirit. It is in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus that we can become healed and human.

Go and be church.

Dennis Sanders

By Dennis Sanders

Ten years ago during Ash Wednesday of 2002, I was a chaplain at Luther Hall in Minneapolis.  Luther Hall was what you would probably call a nursing home, though the people there were at various stages in their lives; some were transitioning from surgery, back to home or to another facility; but some were there for the long haul, or short haul as it might happen.  There were people there who were basically at death’s door.  Some died immediately, others had a longer leave taking.

It was during that Ash Wednesday, that I, a seminarian finishing up the last requirement before ordination was helping in the administration of the ashes.  We had a service on that day in the chapel and then the two chaplains and I split up the complex and went room by room to those who couldn’t make it to the service.  We had a list of people to go to and visit, and we went room by room to place ashes on their heads. Some of the folks were awake and ready to receive the ashes, and some people were asleep or not just present at this moment.  Over and over again, I said the words that will be said again and again today…”Remember You Are Dust, and to Dust You Shall Return.”

I remember thinking how powerful it was to say this to people who in many cases were dying.  Saying those words were not in the abstract for me, they became very real.

Methodist pastor Alan Bevere has noted on how this day is a sober reminder of our mortality.  He notes:

I don’t spend much time thinking about my own death, though I know it will come sooner or later. I am well aware of the aging process going on within me and being noticed by me (and others) on the outside. Such aging is a reminder of my own mortality, which I pray will come much later than sooner, only because there is much more in life I want to experience, and because I believe God has not yet finished with me. But I know that there is no guarantee of anything. And in the big picture of things, that’s OK.

In one sense my creeping mortality is a blessing. It serves to remind me of what’s important. The older I get the things that seemed so trivial when I was younger, are more important. I have a sense of urgency to accomplish things I did not when I was thirty. I am more impatient when it comes to some matters and more patient with others. My aging reminds me of my mortality, and in so doing it also serves as a teacher. There is no age when one is too old to learn. Sadly, there are too many persons who die before they get to experience their creeping mortality; taken away much too early. So, I must remember to be thankful for the experience of aging. Not all get to journey with their mortality into old age.

I’m seven years younger than Alan and I’ve started to realize that I’m not a young thing anymore.  I see my parents who are in their early 80s and late 70s and see how they move slower and can’t do the things they used to anymore.  I am reminded day after day that I am facing my own mortality, my own sense of being limited by time and space.

Sometimes, Ash Wednesday is looked on as a day of being dour and focused on our sin.  That is part of it, but it is so much more than that.  Ash Wednesday reminds us that we are finite persons and yet, we are remembered by God.  For some reason, God wants to be in relationship with us even though in God’s view we last as much as a blooming flower.

Ash Wednesday is a dose of realism in our lives.  We are reminded that no matter how much we try to create our monuments to self, we will end up as worm food.  No one gets to escape that.

But it can also be a source of hope.  We are loved by God even though we are mortal.  But we also know that Christ has defeated death and we have a future hope beyond the grave.

So today, we are dust.  We will become dust.  But through the grace of Christ we also have hope beyond the dust.

Thanks be to God.

Crossposted at Questor Pastor.

“The Things You Leave Behind”
Jonah 3:1-5,10 and Mark 1:14-20
January 22, 2012 (Stewardship Sunday)
First Christian Church
Minneapolis, MN

The following sermon was preached by Associate Pastor Dennis Sanders on January 22, 2012.

This April will mark five years since my partner Daniel and I moved into our home in North Minneapolis.  Like a lot of folks I don’t like moving.  And like a lot of folks, there comes a time when you stop putting things neatly in boxes.  You just want to move and get things done so, all this junk gets placed in a box and you put somewhere in your house where you won’t ever look at it again.

And it is in some cases stuff you don’t need to keep.  In my case, I still had papers from seminary and college that followed me from house to house to house.  I had things that followed me from Michigan to Washington, DC and then to Minnesota.  I had junk that I had accumulated over 20 years that was going to take up space in my new home’s basement.  I really didn’t want to have a basement full of stuff I wasn’t going to use anymore, so I decided that the collection of old term papers and knick knacks had to be dealt with.  Slowly, but surely, I got rid of stuff.  I looked at every thing and I thought I was pretty ruthless in putting things aside and to the trash bin.  I felt in someway that these things were weighing me down and I needed to get rid of them so that I could move forward.

The texts today are pretty familiar to some of you.  A number of us have heard the old story of Jonah in the belly of a big fish or whale or what have you.  He is asked by God to go and preach a word of repentance to the folks in Nineveh.  Jonah wasn’t particularly eager to do what God called him to do.  So, instead of going to Nineveh, Jonah decided to get lost.  He took the first ship out of town far, far away from Nineveh.  Jonah was not interested in preaching to Nineveh.  He knew God was going to save them if they repented, something they ultimately did.  Nineveh was the big power that threatened tiny places like Israel.  Jonah wanted them to face God’s wrath.

In the gospels, we see Jesus opening his public ministry.  He comes preaching a familiar message of repentance; “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.” Jesus passes along and finds two sets of brothers who were fishermen.  He calls both sets to follow him and the text says they immediately drop what they are doing and follow Jesus on an amazing journey.

Whenever I’ve heard people talk about this text, people are always amazed how Peter, Andrew, James and John just give up their ways of living to follow Jesus.  Some folks say we need to emulate them.  We don’t know what they were thinking, but at some point they had to wonder what in the world they had done.  Why would anyone in their right mind give up a job to follow some strange guy claiming to be the Son of God?  Did it ever sink in how much they were giving up?

This Sunday is our Commitment Sunday and it is also the first full Sunday that we as a community are in our new place.  Unlike the disciples, we didn’t come at this “immediately.”  It took years for us to discern we need to sell our old building, to figure what were our next steps, to decide to join the partnership, and then to make all the decisions that take place during construction.  We made all those decisions and now here we are, sitting in this new room.

We are on a new path and we probably feel the same excitement the disciples felt when they decided to follow Jesus.  But we also feel some of the same fear and dread that Jonah felt.  We have been used to doing things a certain way in a certain place for half a century.  It will take time to establish the new rythyms of life around here.

This sermon is supposed to be a sermon about stewardship.  It’s supposed to be about persuading you all to make pledges for the coming to help this gathered community to God’s work in the world.  But this is also about commitment and about discipleship, about how we should follow Christ in good and bad times.

Following Christ means at times that we have to let go of things.  For the disciples it meant leaving their jobs.  For Jonah, he had to learn to give up his hatred of Nineveh and preach a word of repentance.

But letting go, committing ourselves to follow God is never an easy thing.  It’s far easier to remain in our comfort zones, because having to let go means pain and it hurts.  As a faith community, First Christian has made a bold move in deciding to follow Christ wherever we are led.  But it’s not without cost.  We have left our own nets by the seashore, but we don’t feel good leaving our old way of life tossed aside.

But letting go also opens us up to new possibilities.  Jonah preached to the Ninevites to get right with God and they did.  The disciples went on the found the church and spread the good news of Christ around the known world.

First Christian has learned to give up and let go of its past to face an unknown future.  What’s ahead of us?  I don’t know; that story is just being written.  What I do know is that in following Jesus we will be sharing the Good News of salvation to all who encounter us.  What I do know is that just like the disciples, God is right there with us as we do God’s work in the world.  We can commit to God because we know God will never, ever let us down.

There is a Central American hymn that seems to fit today:  It’s called “Tu has venido a la Orilla” or “Lord You’ve Come Down to the Lakeshore.”  Here are some of the words:

Tú has venido a la orilla,

no has buscado ni a sabios ni a ricos.

Tan sólo quieres que yo te siga.

Señor, me has mirado a los ojos,

sonriendo has dicho mi nombre.

En la arena he dejado mi barca:

junto a Ti buscaré otro mar.

Lord, you have come to the lakeshore

looking neither for wealthy nor wise ones.

You only asked me to follow humbly. 1

Refrain

O Lord, with your eyes you have searched me,

kindly smiling, have spoken my name.

Now my boat’s left on the shoreline behind me;

by your side I will seek other seas.

So, here we are.  We have left our boats of familiarity and security heading down a road we don’t know.  But we have a hope in the good news: in Jesus Christ.  We leave things behind, but look forward to so much more.  Thanks be to God.  Amen.

It’s hard to believe we are down a mere days.  In 9 days, First Christian will have its last worship service at 2201 First Avenue South.  Actually, it’s out last half of a service, since we will finish the service at our new home at SpringHouse Ministry Center.

January 15 will be a bittersweet day for us.  First Christian is leaving its large home of 56 years to move to a smaller footprint.  We pastors like to remind people that a church is not a building, but it is a people and that is true, of course.  But those buildings are also places where memories take place.  For me, this place has been instrumental in my formation as a pastor.  This was where I was ordained as a minister in the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) in 2002.  In 2006, I performed my first funeral here.  In 2010, rain forced my cousin to cancel his outdoor wedding at the last minute and it was rescheduled…well, you can guess where.

No doubt a lot of people connected with First Christian have memories associated with the building.  For some of you, it’s where you got married, or dedicated your child, or got baptized or buried a loved one.  The church is a people and we shouldn’t confuse a building with a community, but places hold significance in the human heart and mind.  Throughout the Bible, we find stories where place wasn’t just a building  or a rock, but it was a place where people met God and each other.

So, we leave with some sadness, but we also give thanks for what God has done at 2201.  And we move forward to what God will do at SpringHouse Ministry Center.  It will take time for us to get our bearings, but over time, new memories will be made, new stories where we will connect with God and each other.

Bob Hope used to sing the song, “Thanks for the Memories” at the close of his specials and he would thank people who took part in the event.  So, I will say, thanks for the memories, 2201.  Thanks for helping me see how God is active in the world.
-Dennis Sanders, Associate Pastor