Worship leading to mission

As part of his concluding essay in Liturgy: Emerging Worship, "On the periphery of the emerging church," Dennis Bushkofsky turned his attention to the connection between "emerging church" and mission. He wrote:

"A major goal of the liturgical movement from the latter half of the twentieth century has been to restore the ancient model of the catechumenate [a process of evangelization, formation, and initiation through baptism] as a way to further the reach of the Christian chuch. A great many church leaders--across a wide array of denominations--who have come to know about this model also serve in congregations established in the Christendom era. This ancient-future model of welcoming people into the sacramental life and ministry of the church probably fits better into an ecclesial expression that is deeply engaged in working among people who already identify with a postmodern age.

In this way the emerging church movement may have the opportunity to extend key aspects of the liturgical movement into the future. Worship that leads to service in the world (that is, to practicing the faith) has been a perennial concern of liturgical reformers in many eras...A movement within the church that seeks to remove barriers between the sacred and daily life is very much what the restoration of the catechumenate...is about. The implication here is that the emerging church--and its chief expression in worship--has proclaiming and living God's incarnation for the life of the world at its very core. So what is emerging is not merely a fad, but rather a sign of hope for all who worship, now and in the years to come."

Dennis Bushkofsky served as guest editor of Liturgy: Emerging Worship, vol. 26.2 (2011). He is an interim pastor of the ELCA serving in the Metropolitan Chicago Synod, has written for and edited numerous worship resources for Augsburg Fortress Publishers, and is a member of the board of The Liturgical Conference.

Fourth Sunday in Lent - John 9:1-41

Jesus' encounter with the man born blind is dear to my heart.  In fact, it's my favorite story in the Bible.  I like that Jesus does not heal this man born blind out of pity or compassion.  Jesus heals this man so that the works of God might be revealed in him.  This man born blind comes to sight and faith in the Son-of-Humanity, while the religious leaders move deeper and deeper into blindness.  In a church that for so long has looked upon persons with disabilities as people who need to be ministered to and not ministers, I take both comfort and pride in the movement of this story.

The notion that God inflicts people with a disability as punishment for sin, whether their own sin or that of their parents, should shock us.  Yet, we are not so far beyond it.  When the disciples ask whose sin caused the man's blindness, they articulate an “everything happens for a reason” theology. This theology of “reasonableness” is the only consequence of a God that is all-powerful, all-knowing, and all-loving.  So we say:  God doesn’t give us anything bigger than we can handle.  When God closes a door, God opens a window.  God needs children in heaven, too. And we read tragedies as divine judgment.  After all, everything happens for a reason.

But Jesus doesn’t go there.  Jesus answers the disciple’s question about the man born blind’s sin the way my seminary professor responded to some of my queries.  Jesus says, in effect, "That's the wrong question."  Jesus denies the presumed causal relationship between sin and disability and disease.  Rather than the consequence of sin, Jesus labels the man’s blindness as an opportunity for God to be revealed. 

Spittle and mud are standard treatment.  Sending the man to go and wash in the Pool of Siloam is significant.  Washing in the pool of Siloam echoes the prophet Elisha's command to Naaman in 2 Kings. There, Naaman is cured of leprosy.  Evidently, the water of Siloam was used in the ceremonies of the feast of Tabernacles; rabbinic sources identify Siloam as a place of purification.  Understanding Lent as the season committed to preparing candidates for baptism at Easter, the Church has traditionally lifted up the connection between the baptismal font and the pool of Siloam. Baptism is understood to be a washing that leads to new vision, that is, to seeing with the eyes of faith. 

For both the writer of John's gospel and the early church generally, the sacraments are understood to be the continuation of the power that Christ manifested during his ministry.  In our reading, Jesus includes the disciples in his task of working the works of the one who sent him, so that the presence of the light of the world and the revelation of God will not be limited to the historical life of Jesus.  In this same way, the Church through the sacraments is the way Christ continues this same work.  What Jesus did for the man born blind in the pool of Siloam Jesus does for us in the baptismal pool.  And so we preach that baptism leads to enlightenment, to new sight, insight, and perspective, when persons in darkness are washed in obedience to the command of Jesus, the light of the world. 

Immediately after the miracle, everyone is confused.  In John’s Gospel this generally happens after Jesus performs a sign.  Neighbors and onlookers wonder if the man healed is really the man born blind who used to sit and beg.  And so, like Congress entering into a scandal, the leaders of the synagogue launch no less than three hearings before the Pharisees.  In two the man born blind is interrogated.  In the third his parents are grilled. 

With each subsequent trial, the Pharisees become more and more confused and closed to God's revelation.  They do their best to label Jesus a sinner because he works on the Sabbath by making mud.  They also deny the identity of the man born blind in order to discredit the miracle. In so doing, the religious leaders move farther and farther into darkness. 

Called to testify, the parents are afraid of being "put out of the synagogue."  Their fear reflects a later time when Johannine Christians had already been kicked out.  The man born blind, however, is not intimidated.  Originally referring to Jesus "the man," he argues that only one who is "from God" can perform such a miracle.  He then confesses that Jesus "is a prophet."  In the end the man is labeled a sinner and expelled from the synagogue. 

This sequence of events may reflect the experience of the Johannine community as it learned the consequences of confessing faith in Jesus Christ. Raymond Brown believes that a group  of "crypto-Christians" were allowed to remain in the synagogue as long as they kept their beliefs to themselves.  Brown sees the confession of the man born blind that "He is a prophet" acting out the experience of the Johannine community, which had little tolerance for those who refused to make the difficult choice between the community of Jesus and the community of the synagogue. From the perspective of this gospel, refusing to take a public stand on Jesus' behalf is equal to not believing in him. 

John’s Gospel has little room for a personalized religion and a privatized faith. In an age where we have so excluded the language of faith from public discourse that society is held together by the values of the marketplace, this story proclaims that to be baptized into Christ means to boldly bear witness to him. Thus, Jesus finds the healed man, who immediately believes in Jesus as the Son-of-Humanity.  In this same way, Jesus challenges us who have been healed in the waters of baptism to publicly confess our faith in the healer. 

In verses 39-41, a section that reads like a later addition, the theological implications of blindness and sight are spelled out.  Double meanings abound, with blindness pointing to denial and eyesight to faith.  The challenge is to get beyond "seeing is believing."  Faith in Christ calls us beyond hard evidence and scientific certainty to see through the eyes of faith.  For if we seek proof, we will find ourselves closed off in darkness.  But God's gift of faith leads to spiritual sight.  For the ways of God confront and challenge our standards and expectations.  Jesus brings nothing less than a radical reversal of the usual, human view of the world.

In preaching on this reading, we might consider the “blinders” that we wear.  Think about   the personal, social, cultural, national, and theological issues that confuse us. Consider the things that cause us to despair.  Examine the knowledge and assumptions that lead us to overlook God working in our midst.  The opportunity is to find in these issues the good news that God is turning things upside down (or right side up) so that our judgments and reasoning are reshaped in a way that leads to greater vision of who God is and who we can become.

Craig Satterlee, a member of The Liturgical Conference Board, is the Axel Jacob and Gerda Maria (Swanson) Carlson Chair of Homiletics at the Lutheran School of Theology at Chicago.

Entering the story

Shane Claiborne and Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove graciously provided Liturgy with the introduction to their new book Common Prayer: Liturgy for Ordinary Radicals (Zondervan, 2010). Both are founding members of New Monastic communities. While much of their article focuses on the recovery of Christian time as central to the shaping of the Christian imagination, they begin with an invitation to "enter the story":

"Participating in the liturgy of the worldwide Christian community, whether on a Sunday morning or at another time, is more than attending a service or a prayer meeting. It is about entering a story. It is about orienting our lives around what God has been doing throughout history. And it is about being sent forth into the world to help write the next chapter of that story. Wandering the world in search of meaning and purpose, we may not even realize how desperately we need a story. But we know we've found something priceless when we find ourselves in God's narrative.

Liturgy is not about getting indoctrinated. Doctrines are hard things to love. It's not even really about education. Liturgy at its core is not about learning facts and memorizing phrases...it's about disciplining our spirits like we exercise our muscles. Certainly we are learning as we pray, as we listen to Scripture, as we learn the songs and stories. But we are also participating in the work of God--active prayer, active worship...liturgy offers us an invitation not just to observe but to participate...we are invited to become the actors. We become a part of God's story. We discover lost ancestors. And their story becomes our story."

Shane Claiborne and Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove, "A Liturgy for our Whole Life," in Liturgy: Emerging Worship, 26.2 (April-June 2011): 47.

Third Sunday in Lent ‑ John 4:5‑42

On the Third Sunday in Lent, our Gospel reading is the story traditionally known as "The Woman at the Well."  Jesus' encounter with the woman of Samaria is the longest conversation that Jesus has with anyone.  It stands in stark contrast to Jesus' encounter with Nicodemus and is full of surprises.  In requesting water from this woman of Samaria, Jesus, a Jew, transcends the traditional prohibition that Jews and Samarians are to have no social interaction.  Jesus the man acknowledges this woman's full humanity.  And Jesus the presence of God sees beyond this woman's faults and completely transforms her life. 

We find Jesus sitting precisely at Jacob's well, weary from his journey into Samaria, at the sixth hour, the middle of the day.  This location in Samaria at Jacob's well introduces the themes of a gift (the well) and refreshment (water).  But this gift and refreshment transcend what one receives when stopping at a well along one’s journey in order to quench physical thirst. 

A Samaritan woman appears on the scene and Jesus asks her for a drink.  Jesus should not speak to this woman, first, because she is a woman and, second, because she is a Samaritan.  But Jesus begins the conversation with, "Give me a drink."  The disciples have already left, gone into the village to buy food.  Their return will signal how startling this conversation is.  The woman will flee.  The disciples will be shocked.  The woman's response to Jesus’ request also signals how unusual this encounter is.  Her words are meant as an insult: "How is it that you, a Jew, lower yourself and ask for a drink from me, a woman of Samaria?"  But Jesus is willing to share with the Samaritan. Jesus is willing to share water.  Three times the woman is labeled a Samaritan, stressing how remarkable this sharing is.  The opening verses make clear that the world of the Samaritans is no place for this Jew.  But there Jesus is. 

"How is it that you, a Jew, lower yourself and ask for a drink from me, a woman of Samaria?"   Jesus does not answer the woman's question.  Instead, Jesus explains why he is there. Jesus announces that, if the woman knew two truths, the gift of God and "who it is that is speaking to you," she would need only to ask the one speaking and "living water" would be given to her.  These two ele­ments—the gift of God and the identity of the one speaking—are the reason for the entire conversation between Jesus and this woman.  Verses 10‑15 concentrate on living water, the gift of God.  Verses 16‑30 are concerned with who it is that is speaking. 

Jesus promises a gift that has its origins in God.  But what is this gift? "Living water" can be either flowing water from a spring, as opposed to the still water of a pond.  Or “living water” can be something beyond physical water, the life‑giving revelation of the heavenly, which Jesus alone can give.  Jesus offers the gift of water from the spring of the saving love of God, water that gushes up to eternal life.  But, like Nicodemus, the woman chooses only the concrete, physical meaning.  Given the depth of the well and the fact that Jesus has no bucket, she legitimately asks, more respectfully this time, "Sir, where do you get that living water?" Although the woman misses the point, Jesus has gone from "Jew" to "sir."  She sees something in him. 

And so she asks a bigger question: "Are you greater than our ancestor Jacob?"  No matter what kind of water he has, the woman thinks, this Jew most surely cannot match the well given by Jacob!  The woman cannot see beyond either a physical understanding of "living water" or her own tradition.  She cannot imagine that Jesus might be greater than the patriarch Jacob.  Responding, Jesus contrasts Jacob's well, which satisfies thirst for a while, with his "living water," which satisfies thirst forever. Note that Jesus now addresses a universal audience—"Everyone who drinks of the water"—and identifies himself as the one who gives the gift.  Jesus also speaks of the future, the water that he will give, water that will become a spring gushing up to eternal life.  Jesus is promising something bigger than this woman's physical thirst, this place, this water, this well, and this time. 

But the woman can't get beyond here and now. She takes Jesus' promise of a future gift of living water and makes it fit her own, immediate situation.  In so doing, she transforms Jesus' words from the promise of a future gift of living water gushing up to eternal life into her own self‑centered agenda of satisfying physical thirst.  

If this were Nicodemus, the conversation would end here.  But Jesus changes the direction of a faltering conversation with another command: "Go...call...come."  The woman's marital status becomes the focus. Jesus’ purpose is not to judge this woman but to reveal her greater thirst.  The woman's reply that she has no husband is to be understood as an accurate reflection of her situation.  She does not regard herself as married to the man with whom she is living.  Jesus compliments her for telling the truth and then tells her the details of her marital history.  She has lived an irregular married life and is currently in a sinful situation.  The point, however, is not the woman's sinfulness. The point is the power of Jesus to know the secret details of her intimate life.  Jesus knows our deepest thirst. 

Jesus' knowledge of these intimate facts is a turning point. While "living water" may be beyond this woman's grasp, someone who can tell this woman about the secret details of her life commands her attention.  She responds, "I perceive that you are a prophet."  This is a limited confession—a prophet and not the prophet, perceive and not believe.  The woman displays no deep spiritual insight in her conviction that this man must have prophetic qualities.  Still, she does progress from understanding Jesus as "a Jew" to "sir" to "a prophet."

And if Jesus is a Jewish prophet, belonging to a tradition famous for defending its cult of Yahweh in Jerusalem, this Samaritan woman cannot help but challenge him concerning the age‑old question about Mount Gerizim and Jerusalem.  Where is it okay to worship?  Jesus' answer is bigger than her question.  It’s beyond Mount Gerizim and Jerusalem and her frame of reference.  Jesus says, "Woman, believe me!"  Get beyond Mount Gerizim and Jerusalem.  Then Jesus promises a time when the debate between Samaritans and Jews will be rendered irrelevant.

Jesus promises a time when worship won't have to do with a new place, but with a new relationship. In Johannine language, Jesus speaks of "the Father."  Rather than going to a place to find God, in this new relationship, God seeks out those who worship in spirit and truth.  The word used for worship‑-proskymein‑-implies bending or prostrating oneself in the direction of the one worshiped.  True worship is orienting oneself toward God in such a way that God becomes the imperative of one's entire life.  Jesus reveals that God seeks out those who worship God with their whole lives. By "seeking," we mean that God acts in a way that causes this genuine reorientation of human life.  For God is spirit, an all‑pervading personal presence in the believer, and God is truth, not a place or an understanding or a tradition. 

In response to all this, the woman moves a step farther.  No longer "Jew," "sir," or "prophet," she suggests that Jesus might be Messiah and Christ who will show us all things.  After all, Jesus “showed her all things” when it came to her private life.  Jesus answers, "I AM is the one speaking to you" The phrase I AM—eigo eimi—carries a lot of biblical weight.  It's the name God gave to Moses.  It was particularly important to the prophets.  It has always been used to refer to the living presence of God who makes Godself known among the people.  More than the one who knows the woman, Jesus is the one who makes known the living God. 

In this encounter, we see in Jesus the God who, knowing the intimate secrets of both the irregularities of our lives and our sinful situations, nevertheless seeks us out, promising us the living water that gushes up to eternal life and pushing us to see beyond here and now and our familiar frame of reference.  That's baptism.

In this encounter, Jesus makes known a God who seeks this relationship from all people, regardless of race, gender, or religion.   And let's add disability and sexual orientation as well.  To this God, no one is unclean.  In baptism, God overcomes these barriers. 

In this encounter, Jesus makes known a God who shatters convention by daring to sit in quiet conversation with a woman who had five husbands and was living with a man who was not, and to reach out to her on a human level.  In a cultural rife with unconventional life‑styles and sexual relationships, where Christians are tempted to condemn to the point of declaring that God brings disaster on such a nation, we need to remember Jesus' example and that Christ died for all. Like Jesus, we share both the good news and Christian community with all members of society.

In this encounter, Jesus makes known a God who is not enshrined in Jerusalem or on Mt. Gerizim or behind our stained glass curtains, or in our familiar family pews.  God is not bound to any particular building, appointment, style or worship book.  We worship God in spirit and truth.  The Truth is that the Spirit is active, causing us to reorient our lives so that all that we do is worship.  Perhaps these are some of the ways that the pervasive presence of God is turning us around this Lent.

Craig Satterlee, a member of The Liturgical Conference Board, is the Axel Jacob and Gerda Maria (Swanson) Carlson Chair of Homiletics at the Lutheran School of Theology at Chicago.

Worship in a Visual Culture

We continue with excerpts from the recent issue of Liturgy: Emerging Worship, drawing this week from Jay Gamelin's article "It's the images and the actions that matter." Gamelin is the pastor of Jacob's Porch, a Lutheran Campus Ministry at Ohio State University. His comment seems especially apt this week as the various news media are filled with images from the devastation in Japan.

"We are a visual culture, a culture that sees its world instantly. We are visually connected to our world and to the images that tell us more than what words alone can say; often believing images more than words if they are not in opposition to one another....

To match what we see with what we have heard is a new thing in this era. What we see offers us a new world-view, a way of seeing our lives intimately connected with the whole world.

A defining characteristic about emerging churches is that they are as likely to be invested in what worship looks like, its movements and spaces, what worshipers wear and how the flow reflects symbolically on the matter of worship, as the words spoken. It is one reason why the word experience has crept into our vocabulary of worship. This generation does not simply want to be told that they worshiped but they wish to enact God's creation, the fall, the redemption through Christ, and the restoration we are called to through the Spirit in worship. The visual clues and movements become icons, symbols that point beyond what is at face value...Symbols speak as loudly in some places as words might themselves, and this I would assert is the central them that ties together what could be called emerging worship."

Second Sunday in Lent-John 3.1-17

The Second through Fifth Sundays in Lent all share common themes or images for preaching.... I am struck by the fact that ancient allusions to baptism abound in these stories.  We find references to "Water and the Spirit" in Jesus' encounter with Nicodemus.  "Living water" is offered to the woman at the well. Anointing and enlightenment, which confer new status to the baptized, are lifted up in the man born blind.  And the resurrection, life in the Spirit and the power of Christ by which the baptized live, is prefigured in the raising of Lazarus.  If Ash Wednesday and the First Sunday in Lent set the course for our journey by pointing out our need of God, these Sundays propel us forward so that finally, on the Sunday of the Passion, we find our feet planted at the base of the cross, with our eyes gazing beyond death to behold the power of the resurrection, and to seek its manifestations even now in our daily baptismal living.

The gospel readings for these Sundays all come from John.  John's Gospel is based on the distinction between the kosmos or world, which, though created by God, is the realm of ignorance, falsehood, flesh, and bondage, and the epourania, or heavenly things.  In the Fourth Gospel, Jesus is the Christ of glory who as Logos embodies the presence of God.  Jesus is truth, light, life, spirit, knowledge, and freedom.  That Jesus is the Son‑of‑Humanity is a fact that we are invited to accept or reject.  

Our Gospel reading for the Second Sunday in Lent is Jesus' encounter with Nicodemus.  Nicodemus is introduced as "one of the Pharisees, a ruler of the Jews," and "a teacher of Israel."  Nicodemus comes to Jesus "by night."  Nicodemus comes out of the darkness of the world into the light of the Word.  Nicodemus' movement from darkness to light is to be understood as a significant step toward believing, toward receiving the One sent to make God known.  Although in the end Nicodemus comes to the cross by day and, with Joseph of Arimathea, prepares Jesus' body for burial, Nicodemus doesn't get to this act of discipleship all at once.  

In this encounter, Nicodemus' words to Jesus make clear that, although he is attracted by the signs or miracles that Jesus does, "for no one can do these signs unless God is with him," Nicodemus wants to fit Jesus into something he knows, into an exact definition.  And so Nicodemus calls Jesus "a teacher sent from God," a dignity reserved for the great figures of Israel. But Nicodemus is limited by his definitions, for Jesus is more than a teacher sent from God. 

Still, Jesus tries to build upon Nicodemus' limited understanding.  He says, "No one can see the dominion of God without being born anothem, which in Greek means both "anew" and "from above."  Jesus plays on this double meaning in his demand for rebirth.  One sees the dominion of God only through an experience of being born a second time in a spiritual sense that comes from God.

But Nicodemus is trapped by his definition of what the dominion of God might be like.  He relies on what he knows to be true, physical birth.  When Nicodemus asks about being born "a second time," he is only asking about the physical birth of a child from a mother, which is impossible to do twice.  Nicodemus’ question shows that he has not grasped what it is to be born anothem—anew from God. 

Jesus tries to explain in another way.  He replaces anothem with words that define being born "anew" as being born "of water" and being born "from above" as being born "of the Spirit."  Jesus also defines "seeing" the dominion of God as "entering" it.  A human experience "of water" and a spiritual experience "of the Spirit" are required for entrance into the dominion of God.  This is not something Nicodemus can understand and do.  It is something he must receive and experience.  Birth into a new situation, where believers become the children of God, is the gift of God's initiative and not the result of human response.  But there is also a physical experience, a rebirth "of water" associated with the gift of the Spirit.  Rebirth from above is marked by the ritual of baptism "of water," now perfected by the baptism "of Spirit" brought by Jesus.  Seeing and entering the kingdom of God are consequences of a ritual of water that accompanies the gift of the Spirit.

The dominion of God is to be understood as realized here and now.  It is a community, a gathering of Christians who have experienced the passing away of a former situation of life style and belief, and who profess and attempt to live according in the truth, light, life, spirit, knowledge, and freedom that comes from Jesus as the embodied presence of God.  Baptism brings about a passage from life in this world to life in the dominion of God.

To be "born of the flesh" is to be content with what we can observe, understand, and control.  Living in the flesh means making judgments based upon what we know and sense.  Birth in the Spirit leads us into a different way of seeing, understanding, and living.  Playing on the Greek word pneuma, which means both "wind" and "spirit," Jesus moves from the everyday experience of the wind, which we can experience but not explain or control, to the Spirit, which though beyond our understanding and control, nevertheless breathes into this world from another reality. 

Unable to move beyond his own categories into the mysterious life in the Spirit that Jesus is offering, Nicodemus fails to grasp that we do not enter into the dominion of God by understanding it.  We are summoned into God's dominion by God's initiative.  This is why the Son‑of‑Humanity descended from heaven, to summon all people to God.  And when Jesus is lifted up and exulted on the cross, Jesus will draw all people to himself.  Like the bronze serpent that Moses lifted up in the wilderness, all who gaze upon the elevated Son‑of‑Humanity and trust will be given eternal life.  For Jesus came that the world might be saved, not judged. 

As we prepare for baptism at Easter, Jesus reminds us that God's gift of rebirth through water and Spirit leads to a new orientation of life based on "heavenly things"—Spirit, truth, life, knowledge, and freedom.  The call is to let go of old definitions, understandings, and categories in order to experience the Spirit that blows where it will.  

Craig Satterlee, a member of The Litugical Conference Board, is the Axel Jacob and Gerda Maria (Swanson) Carlson Chair of Homiletics at the Lutheran School of Theology at Chicago.

Guiding Principles for alt.worship

In his recent article in Liturgy, "What do I love when I love my God?",  Jacob Myers offers three guiding principles for alt.worship liturgies. alt.worship liturgies should...

1. "...open up the participants for a radical encounter with a God who exceeds every expectation, nominalization, or characterization' that is, alt.worship should draw us to a God is who wholly other."
2. "...defer: they ought to offer themselves up to worshiping communities in such a way that conclusions are put off, suspended beyond a horizon that approaches while never arriving."
3. "...will situate themselves according to the middle voice, rupturing the boundaries between creator / creation, liturgist / participant, and producer / consumer. It will create the space for the worshiper to become liturgist."

From Liturgy: Emerging Worship, 26.2 (April-June 2011), 37. 

First Sunday in Lent ‑ Matthew 4:1‑11

The Gospel reading recounts the faithfulness of Jesus, who steadfastly resisted all temptation in the desert.  After being baptized by John in the Jordan, when heaven was opened, the Spirit of God descended like a dove and landed on Jesus, and a voice from heaven declared, "This is my Son, the beloved, with whom I am well pleased," Jesus was led by the Spirit not to the temple but to the desert, not to be praised but to be put to the test.

In the desert, Jesus fasted for forty days.  Both "fasting" and "forty" are Lenten images.  Like Jesus' time in the wilderness, the forty days of Lent are "fast days" in the broad sense of times of discipline and self‑restraint.  In biblical terms forty symbolizes fullness—a span of time sufficient to accomplish what needs to take place.  In fact, the number forty is a kind of biblical shorthand for much of sacred history. Jesus enduring temptation in the wilderness for forty days sounds all sorts of biblical echoes.  Rain fell in the days of Noah for forty days and nights. Moses and Elijah (the Law and the Prophets) each fasted in the wilderness for forty days.  Nineveh was given forty days to repent.  And, perhaps most important, Israel wandered in the wilderness for forty years prior to entering the land of promise. In the early centuries of the church, the forty days before Easter were considered sufficient time for converts to make their final, intensive preparation for baptism.  This was a period of prayer and fasting modeled after Jesus' own preparation for ministry in the wilderness, though Jesus' preparation took place after he was baptized. 

In the wilderness for forty days, Jesus is tempted by the devil.  Regardless of whether or not there is a literal devil, the point is that Jesus struggled with serious and nagging questions about his identity and mission.  As we do, both as Christians and as the Church.  While the voice from heaven may have declared, "This is my Son, the beloved, with whom I am well pleased," the tempter counters, "If you are the Son of God!"  It's a biblical echo of Eden, where the serpent asks, "Did God really say that?" 

All three temptations are attempts to undermine the kind of Messiah that Jesus will be.  The devil first tempts Jesus to use his power as the Son of God to feel good, to satisfy his own needs.  After forty days of fasting, Jesus is hungry and so the devil entices him to turn stones into bread.  If Jesus does turn stones into loaves, Jesus will be the kind of messiah that uses his power as Son of God for his own ends rather than God's.  We are reminded that, during the forty years in the wilderness, Israel used their status as God's people to ask God to satisfy their hunger and God provided manna from heaven.  But Jesus counters that feeling good and being satisfied aren't enough.  We do not live by bread alone.  We need the Word of God. 

As individuals, as congregations, and certainly as a society, we too are tempted to put our own survival, our own comfort, and our own needs ahead of God's will.  Pick a topic to reflect upon in the sermon—worship, outreach, stewardship, social justice, economics, marriage and family relationships.  What do we do when our comfort, needs, and survival conflict with God's will?  What does our prayer life look like this Lent? 

The tempter next entices Jesus to put God to the test by throwing himself down from the pinnacle of the temple so that angels can lift him up in their hands.  God is to prove that God is God by doing something miraculous.  We are reminded that during the forty years in the wilderness, Israel used its status as God's people to test God by asking God to satisfy their thirst and God provided water from the rock.  But Jesus declares, "Do not put the Lord your God to the test."  The message is twofold.  Do not tempt the Lord your God and do not tempt Jesus, God's beloved Son.  

We, too, put God to the test.  We, too, want God to prove God's identity by doing something miraculous, something Godly.  Reflect upon the ways we violate standards of health and safety and count on God to pull us through unscathed.  Reflect upon the things we say and do to keep God safely within our understanding.  The God I know certainly would or wouldn't.  What do we do with our temptation to feel righteous or to feel right?  What do we do with our tendency to cling tightly to traditions, doctrines, and practices in order to maintain the delusion that God has given us all the answers?  Select an issue for reflection—ecumenism, the interpretation of scripture, gay and lesbian issues.  What do we do when our answers and understandings are challenged or rejected?  How are we tempted to put God to the test?  

Third, the tempter offers Jesus "all the realms of the world and their splendor." Jesus can have the power of the status quo on his side—military might, economic energy, entertainment, instant gratification, celebrity, status, and success.  There's only one catch:  "Fall down and worship me."  We recall that, during the forty years in the wilderness, Israel worshiped after other gods.  But Jesus does not.  Jesus declares, "You shall worship the Lord your God, and God only shall you serve." 

That the devil claims both to posses this power of the world and to be able to hand it over to Jesus reminds us of all the ways the power of our world has been and is severely abused.  The temptation is to do what it takes to feel secure.  So how do we compromise with the world in order to maintain our place?  How do we stack up material success against Christian contentment?  Can we get beyond image to character, success to faithfulness?  How are we tempted as a nation at war?      

Each time the tempter asks Jesus what kind of messiah he will be, Jesus answers, "Obedient."  "Obedient."  Torn between obeying God and responding to human need, Jesus chooses to obey God. The temptation in this text is to preach "Imitate Christ."  But we need to be clear that, though human, Jesus is more than an example to emulate.  Jesus is the Son of God.  Jesus is able to resist the power of evil.  Jesus is not captive to the enticement of temptation.  The good news is that Jesus our obedient messiah defeated the power of evil.  Through baptism Jesus' victory is ours as well.  In the wilderness, confessing his faith in and obedience to God, Jesus overcame temptation, winning a victory that culminated in his victory over death on the cross.  By the power of the Holy Spirit, God empowers us to share in Christ's victory so that we too can overcome the temptations of daily life and remain faithful.  As we find ourselves in our own wilderness, the One who was tempted stands ready to strengthen us and bring us triumphant through all trials.

The early church used this story at the beginning of the forty days of preparation for Easter baptism to assist candidates in preparing for their own time of temptation.  As the Spirit led Jesus from baptism into the wilderness of temptation, so Scripture and experience tell us that in the world we will encounter opposition to all that is of God.  In fact, those most committed to being Jesus' disciples experience evil's temptation most intensely.  But it is also our experience that Jesus stands with us in temptation and points the way to victory.  Helping our hearers to encounter Jesus in their own wilderness of temptation is the task of preaching on this First Sunday in Lent.  

Craig Satterlee, a member of The Litugical Conference Board, is the Axel Jacob and Gerda Maria (Swanson) Carlson Chair of Homiletics at the Lutheran School of Theology at Chicago.

Emerging and emerging worship

"...the emerging church and its worship are unavoidable if the Christian mission is to continue into the future. So emerging is not simply a name for Gen X ministry. It's much more significant than that: it's the way that the church moves forward from here.... The emerging movement does not ask people to make false choices between having traditional and contemporary forms of worship, praise bands or organ, lay or ordained ministries. There is no reason why worship cannot continue using all that is authentic and true."  Dennis Bushkofsky, guest editor of Liturgy: Emerging Worship, vol. 26.2 (2011), 3.