Gloria Dei Lutheran Church

Matthew 4:12-23

The people who sat in darkness have seen a great light, and for those who sat in the region and shadow of death light has dawned.

I grew up in a tiny town in North Dakota, so close to the Canadian Border that we had Canadian tv stations so when I learned the alphabet as preschooler it was xyzed. Many of classmates lived on farms which meant they rode a school bus. At the beginning of each year, each student had to designate a friend in town to be their storm home. This was the place you could go just in case the weather was so bad that the busses couldn’t run. Because sometimes blizzards arrive in the middle of the day without warning. Now, as a kid, it was a thrilling prospect because it meant that if you were a designated storm home, it’s possible your friend would get to come home with you and stay not just for dinner but overnight. On a school night.

When I planted a church, storm home because a theological metaphor. That church plant create a space where people would come and rethink/reform the theology that was no longer working for them. It was a theologically safe place to heal from church trauma.

Last week, as ICE relentlessly pressed and pressed and pressed this city, the metaphor shifted again as we talked with friends whose offspring are students at Augsburg College. These families live out of town or out of state. We told them, we are here in St Paul and if needed, we can go over and scoop your kids right up. We will be their storm homes. So storm home is now shelter from the federal government’s violence.

Doesn’t it feel like we are in a blizzard? We have been in other blizzards. But this one is particularly brutal and violent and lives have already been lost. I was one of the many clergy who marched at the airport on Friday morning, praying and supporting the 100 clergy who volunteered to be arrested and we moved downtown to be with 50,000 of our closest friends. It was day where you felt and saw the outpouring of support of this state.

There were many songs, prayers and chants in the morning. You get that many clergy together and friends, the song game is always going to be strong. The one that I just keep repeating to myself is:

“for everyone one that you detain,

a 1000 rise to break their chains.

For ever one that you arrest,

1000 more will show up next.”

I believe this with my whole heart. We will just keep coming and coming and coming.

 

 

Yesterday morning I was at home, mopping my floors and restoring order after a long week and I heard the news on my kitchen radio of Alex being shot. Church, I had to just sit and weep because the backlash to 50,000 peaceful marchers came so immediately. It crushed my spirit.

If you are feeling crushed, you are not alone. So know that when I say this next part, I am preaching also to myself.

On farmsteads, people had to tie ropes from the house to the barn so that you wouldn’t get lost and freeze to death in a complete white out. You go out to milk the cows, you hang on to the rope. Like other blizzards, there is a rope tied between the house and the barn so we can hang on and not lose are way. A year ago, when things felt hard, I talked about this rope. And here we are again. There is a blizzard and there is a rope.

We are the rope.

The marchers are the rope.

The women offering warm samosas and tea at the gatherings in the streets are the rope.

The students walking out of school last week and rallying at the Capital are the rope.

The resistance choirs belting out for all the hear that we love our neighbors are the rope.

You who are driving people safely to work are the rope.

Donating groceries, rent money, blood pressure cuffs are the rope.

Inviting someone to your home for a meal is the rope.

You checking on one another is the rope.

Gathering with others to write prayers with an Irish poet is the rope.

Gathering on Wednesdays and praying without ceasing is the rope.

Every single person who lights a candle in their home and prays to God for courage and mercy is the rope.

The person who said to me, “Well pastor, I’m probably going to be arrested for civil disobedience this week” is the rope.

The volunteers surrounding the schools, preschools and daycares in safety vests are the rope.

Every person who has trained as a bystander is the rope.

You with a whistle around your neck are the rope.

The Lutheran quilters who left their building and went out to the parking lot to suggest ICE leave their church parking lot (and they did, don’t mess with quilters) is the rope.

People who gathered on every corner and block of the city with lit candles to remember Alex last night is the rope.

Faithful people around the country and globe who are standing with us, sending us messages, praying for us are the rope. 1000 more will show up next.

God’s people know how to sit in the shadow of death and still hold onto the light. We have been doing it since the beginning. Please note that in the Gospel today, Jesus calls those professional fisherman into something they were ill-equipped for, they were untrained and not at all ready for whatever came next. And please notice that John was already in jail. So, this Jesus movement is just getting started and already the shadow of death is present. But just the same, Peter, Andrew, James and John stepped into the moment and into their calling from Jesus. And because that ill-equipped, not trained crew said yes, because they said yes, we are gathered here today. Does that blow your circuits? They said yes and clung to the Good News and that Good News became a rumor and a story and lifeline and a rope for 2000 years, for all those generations and here we are this morning gathered around it once again. Sitting in the shadow of death and clinging to the light.

We gathered last night outside this building, and the tiny flicker of the flame on my well used Christmas Eve service candle kept going out. And then a neighbor would offer me their flame. Over and over and over. Because there is enough light when we all get together. And just when I thought most people were assembled and here, we would see other carrying candles from a block away, across the street. 1000 more will show up next. I had the same experience as many of you did driving home—candles on every block. 1000 more will show up next.

One of the people who is praying for us is Pastor Karen from our partner churches in Guatemala. You are about to hear a word from her.