Sermon: Trinity 7 and Confirmation Sunday – 2011

7 August 2011 at Salem Lutheran Church, Gretna, LA


Text: Mark 8:1-9 (Gen 2:7-17, Rom 6:19-23)

In the name of + Jesus. Amen.

Today is a monumental day in the life of our congregation and in the lives of these four young people who are being confirmed. And it isn’t so much because of Confirmation itself – which is not a sacrament or a rite commanded in the Bible (and in fact, was abolished by Martin Luther), but rather because these four children of God – Addison, Gavin, Kristen, and Raegan – will partake of the Lord’s body and blood for the first time today.

On this holy day in this holy place, these four sinners made holy by God’s Holy Word in Holy Baptism, will join us – the one Holy Church throughout the world in partaking of Holy Communion.

Of course, we Lutherans ultimately rejected Luther’s rejection of Confirmation, and it is a tradition that we uphold. For it is a good and fitting thing that God’s children of every age understand and confess the truths of God’s Word.

That truth is expressed in full in the readings of the Holy Word today.

We know that we are descended from Adam, who was made from the earth. We know that we lived in paradise and that “the tree of life was in the midst of the garden” – as well as a forbidden “tree of the knowledge of good and evil.” We know that the Lord had great plans for us, an eternal destiny of everlasting life, perfect harmony with nature, and unbroken communion with Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

And we also know, again from that same Holy Word of God, that “the Lord God commanded the man… ‘of the tree of knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall surely die.”

And you shall surely die, dear brothers and sisters – from the oldest to the youngest, from the frailest to the most vigorous – even you Addison, Gavin, Kristen, and Raegan. You shall surely die.

And though we were not to know about good and evil, we have crossed that line. And so we must deal with good and evil, study the catechism, learn the Ten Commandments, and confess that we are poor miserable sinners, deserving of God’s wrath and punishment, because we, like Adam, have not kept the holy commandments.

And regarding that fruit for which we lusted, to which we were not entitled, by which we are all corrupted and mortal, St. Paul asks us: “But what fruit were you getting at that time from the things of which you were now ashamed? For the end of those things is death.” Indeed, God’s Word is true. This theme that we are sinners, that we are mortal, that we are at war against each other and at enmity against God Himself runs throughout Holy Scripture. We know it. We confess it. We live in that reality. And we can’t fix it.

“For the wages of sin is death,” says the holy apostle, and this is also God’s Word.

Dear confirmands and dear Christian children of every age: we know this. We cannot wiggle out of it. We can’t make excuses. We can’t lie our way out of it. It is the sad reality of our fallen human condition. And we know this for many reasons – the most obvious one being that we must attend funerals.

But, dear friends, St. Paul speaks of a way to become “slaves to righteousness” instead of to “impurity and to lawlessness.” He speaks of a way “leading to sanctification.” He has good news for us that although “the wages of sin is death” as we all know, there is a way out: “but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

Again, “the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

For “In Christ” we overcome the death we deserve – even as He overcame the death He did not deserve, on the cross, by rising from the grave. And we receive this life that conquers death as a “free gift.” It is not for sale, it can’t be earned, and it cannot be promised in return for anything. It falls into our laps from above, just as fruits grow on a tree and are available for the eating.

Our Lord designed us to eat. He put us in a lush garden, a place where food literally appears from sunlight and water and the nutrient-bearing soil of the ground. Of course, in our fallen state, our food is not necessarily very good. It may bear blemishes. It rots. And we have to work to earn it. But nevertheless, the Lord still provides for us through the fruits of the earth and sea, and giving us the opportunity to work and earn a living – now that we no longer live in a garden of grace.

But, dear friends, we have a destiny to return to that garden of grace, to redeem our existence of death and replace it with everlasting life. Our tree of life is Christ’s cross, and the fruit of that tree is given to us week in and week out in the cup. The Lord’s body is our food and the Lord’s blood is our drink. He invites us to join in His undoing of sin and death and decay and to be rejuvenated with His righteousness and life and glory.

And that, dear confirmands, is why today is so important in your life.

Today is not a graduation, but the first day of your life of communing in the Lord’s body and blood – for the forgiveness of sins and the strengthening of your faith. This is not the last time you are to come here, but it is the first time for you to partake in the eternal feast. The Lord’s invitation is not for you to wear a robe once and have a few pictures only never to return, but rather for you to wear your baptismal robe of righteousness every day of your lives and feast continually on the Word and the Sacrament.

The Lord takes away our hunger for things that we need – both in this world and in eternity – by feeding us. And notice why the Lord feeds His people: “I have compassion on the crowd.” Our Lord knows what hunger is like, to be in poverty and want. He knows that we need not only bread for the stomach but also nourishment for the soul.

And notice what He does: “having given thanks, he broke them and gave them to the disciples to set before the people… And they ate and were satisfied.”

“Our Lord Jesus Christ, on the night when He was betrayed, took bread, and when He had given thanks, He broke it and gave it to the disciples and said: “Take eat; this is My body, which is given for you.”

And they ate and were satisfied. Satisfied and filled with righteousness and life, filled with peace with men and unity with God. And they shared this satisfaction with a world starving for divine grace and mercy.

And the very same blood that was required of Adam – that was spilled by the New Adam, our Lord Jesus, at the cross – that blood was put into a “cup after supper,” and “when He had given thanks, He gave it to them saying: “Drink of it, all of you; this cup is the new testament in My blood, which is shed for you for the forgiveness of sins.”

This is a pure gift from the Father who created us, a pure sacrifice of the Son who redeemed us, a pure communion from the Holy Spirit who sanctifies us. This blood comes from the same side of the same crucified Jesus whose pierced heart also issued water – unitedwith the baptismal invocation of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

And it is this baptism you confess today, dear confirmands!

And hear the Word of the Lord, as we will again, and as we do every time we gather around this altar in Holy Communion: “This do, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of Me.”

Your invitation to this altar is not for one time only. Nor is it limited to your lifetime according to the flesh. This invitation never ends. It transcends death. It is the bringer of life. It is your continual food and drink as children of God and reborn people to be refashioned in God’s perfect image through the Word.

Eat and drink! Hear the Word of the Lord! Receive this gift of righteousness! And live forever! That new life of communion and feeding on the Lord’s body for all eternity begins today, continues tomorrow, and the “free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord” – a life that never ends.

Amen.

In the name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Bonhoeffer on the Sign of the Cross

"Signabis te signo santae crucis. ("Sign yourself with the sign of the holy cross.")

     ~ Martin Luther, Small Catechism



Joel J. Miller discovers the sign of the cross through the writings of Lutheran theologian Rev. Dr. Dietrich Bonhoeffer as described in this blogpost.

The Truth About Our Economic Mess in Under 5 Minutes

My Siberian Adventure - Day 3 - June 29, 2011

Begin: Flying toward Moscow
Land in: Moscow, Russia (Domodedovo Airport)
Fly to: Novosibirsk, Russia (Tolmachevo Airport)
Drive to: Novosibirsk, Russia (The Lutheran Center)

At this point in space and time, the time zones blur along with the thin line that separates night and day.  I managed to steal a few brief naps contorted in a seat barely big enough to contain my frame.  It is morning as we approach Moscow - but my system has no clue what time it is.  The light is shining through the windows, however, and we are served a breakfast consisting of non-fat blueberry yogurt and a small cherry croissant.  I enjoy my little cup of coffee.

Elena has offered to look after me in Moscow.  I dug out Dan's instructions and went over them with her.  She confirmed that this is indeed the basic protocol, and assured me that she will make sure I get where I need to be.  We landed and began to deplane at Domodedovo.  I'm amazed to be in Moscow.  There is enough English signage not to be totally lost, but it is disorienting to be surrounded by the Russian language, written and spoken, almost exclusively.  Domodedovo is a formidable, busy, bustling, cosmopolitan place.  We were funneled into Passport Control, and we were separated there.  Elena motioned to me that she would wait for me and meet me after my interview.

I was called into the booth.  Unlike my many trips through Canadian and American Customs, I was not asked any questions.  I handed over my passport (with the visa attached).  I was handed a paper.  A green light on the gate lit up, the gate opened, and I went through.  The gate opened into the baggage area.  As promised, Elena was waiting for me.  She was happy and very encouraging.  She was excited to be back in Russia and looking forward to visiting her family.

It was strange that I did not know anyone here - except for Elena whom I had met only a few hours ago.  My traveling companion, Dan, was 1,750 miles away - and I have never actually met him.  Other than Dan (and Elena) I have never spoken with anyone in Russia - not counting the S7 agents I talked to.  I'm not worried, but it is a great feeling of loneliness to be so far from friends, culturally isolated, and unable to communicate.  Life as I knew it was thousands of miles and an ocean away.  I was really grateful to have Elena there!

We waited at the carousel, and she was very happy to see her bag.  She patiently waited with me as I waited for mine.  I waited so long I began to really believe it was lost.  But at last, there it was!  Elena led the way through a doorway.  I went to pass my bags through the x-ray machine, but Elena waved me through.  Nobody said anything.

Now my challenge was to find out if I had a ticket to Novosibirsk.  I headed to an S7 cashier, who in turn sent me to check-in.  The clerks have a habit of looking busy and ignoring you.  You have to basically walk up to them and engage them, or else they will ignore you and other people will walk past you to speak to the clerks.

I went to check-in, and the clerk was on the phone several times.  She spoke little English.  She sent me to the ticket counter.  Elena - still watching over me - assured me that they speak English at the ticket counter, and she headed off to currency exchange.

It turns out that the clerk did not speak English, nor did her colleague.  I managed to convey what I needed with gestures and paperwork.  I paid to change the itinerary - about $27,500 rubles - about $100.  I paid using my new Visa card, which did not seem to work.  After trying to scan the card two or three times, she left.  That is a sick feeling.  But after a while, she returned with a ticket.

I went back to the S7 check-in area, and Elena has returned, still watching over me.  She has already checked in.  This time, having a ticket in hand, I check my bag and am all set to go to Novosibirsk!

Elena wanted to eat, and insisted on paying.  I would have insisted on paying  (the very least I could do!), but only cash is accepted and I have no rubles.  The only restaurant in the area is Sbarro (spelled Сбарро).  Elena is ordering pizza, but is highly annoyed that the clerk is trying to do a "bait and switch."  She spoke angrily to the clerk, and then explained to me that this is common in Russia.  It seems to be a pet peeve of hers.  Food is already extraordinarily expensive in Moscow - as I was to learn three weeks later.  Meanwhile, we found a kiosk that sold chips and soft drinks.  Again, I offered to exchange some currency and pay - but Elena discouraged me from exchanging currency at the airport - especially on the first floor, as the exchange rate was not good.  She insisted on paying.  I had something that we should have in New Orleans, but don't: Lay's crab potato chips (spelled: краб) and a diet Pepsi.  We sat and ate.  I got more of my crash-course in Russian culture.

We went for a stroll.  You can tell that there is a transition going on with things becoming more westernized.  Technology is changing, but the attitudes of the people are slower to change.  Being a Russian who lives in the States, Elena's perspective is very interesting - especially considering that she was too young at the time of the Soviet implosion to remember Communism.  She is part of the post-Communist generation of Russians.

It was time to head toward our gates and go through security - which was very efficient.  Little blue plastic baggies are provided to place over your feet so that you don't have to walk around in your socks.  There is a "naked scanner," and there is no "opt out."  Elena went through the line a few people before me, and waited patiently for me as I gathered all of my stuff.  I was trying to hurry, but she told me to take my time.  She is set to leave about an hour before I am, so we head to her gate.  She let me use her cell phone to call the bishop.  I let him know that I was in Moscow, and, God willing, will soon be en route to Novosibirsk.  He assures me that he will be at the airport to pick me up just after midnight.

Elena is returning to Dulles Airport by the same flight on July 19.  I am returning on July 20.  We sat and chatted for a while longer, exchanged e-mail addresses, and took a couple pictures.  She was a real Godsend!  I thanked her for her kindness and asked if I could give her a blessing (she is a practicing Russian Orthodox Christian).  She is happy for me to pray for her.  Against the advice I received to blend in, I stood in a crowded Moscow airport, said a prayer, and traced the sign of the cross on her forehead.  Were this 30 years ago, I might have been arrested.  We said goodbye and she boarded.

I was now entirely on my own, but thanks to Elena, my level of comfort and confidence has increased.  I head to my own gate, and had time to send e-mail and a couple SnapYap messages to Grace and my dad.  My gate changed, and so I had to move.  It was no problem.  The information boards alternate between Latin and Cyrillic letters.  And in this airport, everything is subject to change at the last minute.  You just have to roll with it.  No problem!

At the gate, we were shuttled to the plane, a Globus Boeing 737-800 decked out in the trademarked garish green and red of S7 Airlines.

We took off only a few minutes behind schedule.

So far, this S7 flight was the most pleasant of all.  We are served juice (I seem to have had some kind of apple-grape blend, judging by the picture on the box) followed by a meal in a box.  It included a hot meat dish in a separate tin with a foil top.  I had chicken and pasta.  It was really very good!  The box had an empty little cup, two pieces of bread, some meats, cheeses, real butter, sugar, mustard, and a small dessert tart.  I kind of looked around to figure out how all this worked.  The quality of the food was way better than U.S. airline food.

I found out what the little cup was for.  We were offered a choice of tea (with an optional slice of lemon and/or milk) or coffee.  I had coffee.  It is a very rich blend, strong, and almost chocolaty.  It is "Jacobs."  I later learn that it is instant coffee - but it had so much milk in it, I couldn't really tell.

The staff spoke and understood English - though not with conversational fluency - I don't think so anyway.  They were friendly and professional - which I have been told is not always the case in post-Communist Russia.

Our arrival at Novosibirk's Tolmachevo Airport was delightfully uneventful, about 1:00 am local time (which, by the way, is 1:00 pm New Orleans time).  I got my baggage and waved to the bishop through the glass.  He was dressed in black clericals.  My bag arrived okay - though I noticed that it seemed a little wet on the outside.

I was greeted warmly by the bishop, and a stern-looking tall guy said nothing but took my bags.  We walked to the car.  I asked the other guy his name, and he said, in a strong Russian accent: "Ivan."  I asked the bishop if Dan were at the seminary.  Ivan and the bishop looked at each other.  "Maybe you should tell him about Father Daniel," said the bishop ominously.  Ivan started grinning.  "So you're Dan," I said to "Ivan" and shook his hand.  Dan had done a very convincing Russian accent.  He and the bishop had been conspiring to bribe the bag-check guard into arresting me as a joke, but they changed their minds.  Rascals.

The bishop drives a small Japanese import Toyota with the wheel on the right side - even though Russians drive on the right side of the road as we do.

He and Dan gave me the whirlwind tour between the airport, downtown Novosibirsk, and the seminary (i.e. the Lutheran Center).  It was a rather long drive.  We also talked about plans for sightseeing.  Novosibirsk was a jewel in the Communist crown - lots of monuments, etc.  A theater in the main square used to be a building set up for "political demonstrations" - which meant only pro-government rallies by the Party.  Non-Communists had to stay out in the cold.

I was put up in a cozy office (Father Pavel's study) on a cot.  They bought a new mattress for me (and a writing easel) from IKEA.  Dan is set up in the bishop's study on a futon.  I was given a brief tour of the building and keys to my room and to the shower.

This is the time of year when there is no hot water (which is public).  So the seminary has a little auxiliary water heater that does the job.  I discover, to my dismay, that my camera is missing - but I know that I had it in the bishop's car.  It is likely still there.  Hope so!

I went to bed.  My system is still trying to make sense of the time change.

Here are all my pictures from Day Three.

Leonidas and the Hero Factory

Was it wise to spend $25 to buy Leo (who is six) a Lego toy designed for assembly by nine- to sixteen-year-olds?

Well, it took him 48 minutes to complete the 104 pieces with no help other than the instructions.  So, that's what, half-a-buck a minute?  I might as well file for bankruptcy now...

Way to go, Leo!  Epic win!

Today, we are tourists!

One doesn't have to go halfway round the world to be a турист.

My friend Br. Latif Gaba introduced me to the word flâneur - which comes from the French verb flâner ("to stroll, saunter, lounge about") - a delightfully countercultural idea rooted in the fact that life should not consist merely of running from one exhausting errand to another, that one should slow down, enjoy oneself, and take in the sights - even in one's own home town.

Friday is my TDO (Theoretical Day Off) - and so Mrs. H. and I made good on a pledge to take Lionboy to one of his favorite hangouts (upon my return from Russia): The Audubon Insectarium.  We made it an outing, and didn't even use the car.  To embrace one's inner tourist (as well as deal with the heat and humidity of the Crescent City), a Hawaiian shirt is just the thing.  One should also sport headgear, be photographically equipped, and carry a backpack.

A backpack?

Indeed.  When you are a tourist, you need your stuff.  What kind of stuff?  Today, I carried a couple portable umbrellas, sunscreen, a hooded sweatshirt (for the brutally cold air conditioning), my Nook (for those times when one is simply compelled to read), and French and Russian dictionaries and phrasebooks (you just never know...).  Cargo pants are also a must - to carry one's still and video cameras, cell phone, keys, reading glasses, sunglasses, wallet, and PDA.  In visiting the Insectarium - which is a federally-owned building - one must leave behind one's Swiss Army Knife so as not to make people think you are planning on overthrowing the United States government with a toothpick or nail-file (who knew it was so easy?).  Besides, we wouldn't want to profile our guests and deny museum admission to Swiss soldiers with their suspiciously clean fingernails and unAmerican cheese with holes.  Those Swiss knives also include corkscrews.  And connect the dots with me, dear reader: wine bottles need corkscrews to open them, wine is drunk by French people, and French fries are now freedom flies - just so that we all know who to be afraid of, mais oui?

We strolled the four blocks to the ferry station and enjoyed the 15-minute ride across the Mississippi River to Canal Street in New Orleans.  From there, we ambled a few blocks up Canal to the Insectarium - which is actually inside the old U.S. Treasury building - which housed POWs during the War Between the States.  Beast Butler had an office there, and so it is fitting that the building now has displays of roaches, larvae, and bottom-feeders of all kinds.  But I digress...

Anyway, we had a lovely time at the Insectarium - which includes a small theater, an indoor Japanese butterfly garden, and very interesting and exotic displays of living and dead insects and arachnids.  There is a "cave" that children especially enjoy that simulates what it would be like to be an insect living underground - complete with a trapdoor spider that lunges out at you.  There is a huge ant colony, centipedes, millipedes, praying mantises, and a hatchery for newly-minted butterflies.  There are displays of local creatures - such as our doughty cockroaches and ubiquitous lovebugs.

We watched a huge yellow and black garden spider (argiope) devour a fly, and Miss Grace even got help identifying a species of larva that until today has proven a mystery.  A staff member held a tarantula for everyone to enjoy.  The room with mounted butterflies and beetles is a dazzling tour of the whole spectrum of color - and several displays even concede that there is "divine design" to the way insects are put together.  I suppose they only mean it figuratively, but whether intended or not, the truth is hard to deny when confronted with the intricacies of insects' (and other critters') existence and design.

We chose not to eat in the Insectarium's diner (which includes dishes made with insects), and headed off to the Arby's on Canal and Decatur.  Of course, it's not exactly New Orleans fare, but it is fast and close, and we had a rendezvous with the ferry.  We went upstairs where the view of Canal Street is magnificent.

Just as we left the museum as we were headed to Arby's, by pure chance, we met our very dear friend, Dr. Z.  Had we been five seconds earlier or later, we would have missed him striding by.  We always feel better after speaking with him.  He is one of the most delightful people we have ever met, and is literally a Godsend to us.  As soon as we left this providential meeting, we were strolling behind a couple with some scripture on their tee-shirts.  Deo gratias.

Taking us for (non-local) tourists, some visitors at the ferry station asked us what they could find on the other end of the ferry ride to Gretna.  We had the opportunity to direct them to some nice local restaurants. We returned home the same way we came, seeing the rain clouds moving in.  The ferry ride was windy and exhilarating.

So, our tour is over - but we have lots of pictures to serve as souvenirs of our excursion.  And you can scroll down to the end of this post for full embedded video goodness.

My Siberian Adventure - Day 2 - June 28, 2011

Begin: Leesburg, Virginia (Landsdowne Resort)
Drive to: Washington, DC (Dulles)
Fly toward: Moscow, Russia


I woke up in the hotel, hastily got ready, and went downstairs to meet up with Herbert and Klaus.


Klaus was not there, so Herbert and I met at the hotel restaurant for a buffet breakfast.  He and I had a pleasant chat about family, hometowns, work, language, and travel plans.  The food was very good and the service was professional.  Afterwards we went outside and found Klaus ready for our planned walk.

Now, when they invited me for a "walk," I figured we were looking at a half-hour stroll around the hotel followed by a beer - or something of that nature.  I think my European friends meant something different.  We started walking toward the river - which was the Potomac River.  As we walked down the paved trail, golf carts zoomed past.  A stern man on one of the carts - some kind of official - scolded us and told us we were not allowed to be there.  It was only for golfers.  My German friend dubbed him "The Marshall."  We asked him where the walking trail was, and he pointed us in the right direction.  He must have felt a little sorry for us, so he invited us to hop in the golf cart for a ride to the trail.  The Marshall ordered Klaus to put on his shoes (which were actually flip-flops which he had doffed) before climbing on the back of the cart.  As we sped past the hotel's impeccably manicured garden, my new friends chatted amiably in German.


The Marshall dropped us off about a half mile from the hotel on a gravel path at the edge of the woods.  Klaus then ditched the flip-flops and walked barefooted along the gravel.


The view emerged from behind the trees - the winding majestic river with jutting rocks connecting it to the craggy shore.  We ambled up the boulders and made our way to the river.  The sun was beating down on us.  Klaus rolled up his jeans and waded into the river.  Both pulled off their shirts, though were very modest about putting them back on when other people were walking around.

We soaked up the rays and chatted.


After lazing around for a while, we headed toward the trail which was marked by paint marks on the trees.  It was a typical nature trail, shady and leafy, birds chattering happily away.  


We continued our chat, though sometimes we just silently marched along. It was an interesting trail, with some small bridges, and little streams to cross, and some fallen trees with pathways cut into them to allow travelers to pass.  We kept up a swift pace - often led by the barefoot Klaus - who continued to scorn shoes regardless of the terrain: gravel, grass, leaves, rocks, water, concrete, or blacktop.

The winding river was on our right, and the golf course was on our left.  At one point, deep in the woods, I began to wonder if this were such a wise idea.  These guys could have been friends who lured me into the woods to rob me.  I suppressed this irrational thought, and continued the hike.

We eventually emerged in the middle of a wealthy subdivision: three casually-dressed middle-aged guys, one toting a backpack, another without shoes - strolling awkwardly along the McMansions.  We were kind of lost, and asked a young guy for directions to the hotel.  He did not seem to understand what hotel we meant, and his advice did not seem right.  His counsel was at odds with the instincts of our shoeless German officer.  Herbert and I trusted Klaus's opinion, and were rewarded by finding ourselves once again on the edge of the golf course, and soon made visual contact with the hotel.  We even saw the Marshall, still manning the golfcart and surveying his domain.  We ducked behind some trees hoping not to get in trouble for once more walking along the golf trail.


Our two hour hike concluded with a hefty incline.  We rewarded our efforts with soft drinks by the pool.


The guys went back to their rooms to shower.  I had a SnapYap session with Grace and Leo.  I headed downstairs to hang out with the guys and had some coffee.  Klaus reclined comfortably, barefoot in the overstuffed chair in the lobby.  Herbert later joined us, as did a fellow refugee, a college student from New Orleans named Sarah - whose father is a Loyola law professor who is teaching in Vienna.  


We all rode the shuttle together back to the United terminal.  We said goodbye and exchanged contact info.  I went to the line, to be moved to another line, directed to still another, and then one more.  Time began to get short.  I asked for an agent.  He initially told me point blank that I would miss my flight.  I protested that I had arrived two hours early - and he pulled me out of line to get attention from another agent.  My passport would not work in the self-serve kiosk.  I had to find another agent in this seething mass of international travelers, a chaotic mob speaking every imaginable language: men in turbans, women in Islamic garb, Africans, Asians, with a few Americans here and there.  With my plane set to leave in an hour, I still had no ticket and had yet to go through security.  My checked bag had already been checked the day before, and was presumably going to go with me to Moscow.


To complicate matters, the agent informed me that I was not booked on this flight (even though my paperwork said that I was) - but rather had been booked on a different flight to Frankfort with a Lufthansa connection to Moscow.  I begin to get the sinking feeling that I was headed back to the Landsdowne for another night while my bag would be on a whirlwind tour of Europe.  However, the agent somehow ironed things out.  I now had a boarding pass and my plane was actually boarding right at that moment.  I ran through the airport, got to the TSA line, and hurriedly dumped my things into the gray plastic tray.  The TSA agent told me that I had not done things correctly.  I managed to get over this obstacle, hurried through the metal detector, and ran to my gate - which was actually a shuttle to get to the gate itself.


I finally made it to the gate, which was swamped by young people in identical t-shirts boarding the plane.  I could not believe that I was actually boarding.  I was one of the very last to board.  A lady put some kind of a probe in my carry-on, took a reading, and motioned me aboard.  I am in Economy class on the B767.  My carry-on does not fit under the seat in front of me - my shoes and jacket barely do.


The flight is scheduled for 10 hours.  I have my Palm in my pocket (with several Bible versions) as well as my Moleskine to journal into.  I have the list of readings that I need to prepare my sermon.  I also have a pen.  I can barely fit in the seat - the middle of the middle - squished between two other people.  My carry-on is in the overhead bin.  The plane is packed to the gills.  Nevertheless, I try not to complain.  It could be worse.  Also, think of the miracle of human flight.  Like the comedian said: "You're sitting in a chair in the sky!"  


I listen to the bilingual announcements, and the Russian seems to be spoken very fast.  The spoken Russian sounds like the way New Yorkers speak English.  


I have instructions from Dan which he had previously phoned in to me from Novosibirsk - as he arrived on time.  Since Dan will not be there to guide me through the process, he explained all the procedures that I will need to do upon arrival, beginning with Passport Control.  It's quite a lot to keep in mind - which explains why the original plan was that we travel together.  This is going to be an adventure - especially since I don't speak Russian, and also considering that I still don;t know for sure if I have a plane ticket from Moscow to Novosibirsk.


The take-off is inexplicably delayed, but we finally begin our taxi down the runway, only to be recalled back because of a "hydraulics problem."  Another mechanical delay!  Neptune is grinning somewhere.  While grounded, I was able to call Grace and Leo and ask them to send my dad a message (as I was unable to get a phone call to complete back at the terminal).  


We were informed that the problem was only an indicator.  They expected a technician to cut a wire, and we would be up in ten minutes.  When the announcement was repeated in Russian, a lot of the Russians on the plane were laughing.  Way more than ten minutes elapsed.  Then we were told that we could not leave until the paperwork was completed.  One of my neighbors, a young Russian woman named Elena, exclaimed: "Bureaucrats!  Why can't they do that later?"  


It turns out that Elena was on her third flight of the day.  She is also flying on S7 out of Moscow and has offered to help me out at Domodedova Airport.  Finally, we have been cleared to go, and now we are once again grounded due to lightning.  Perhaps Zeus is now conspiring with Neptune.  And so we wait some more.  People unbuckle themselves and walk around the plane, chat on cellphones, and lounge about.  


After a two hour delay, we finally get into the air.  My seatmate Elena has an interesting story.  She is 23-years old, will be celebrating her birthday in Russia with her parents, has been married to an American farmer for six months, and thus lives in the U.S.  She speaks very good English, and is a city girl adapting to rural life in a foreign country.  She and her husband met online, and met for the first time in person in Germany.  She has traveled internationally quite a bit, and speaks German.  She is headed to her childhood home of Astrakhan - her first visit since the wedding.  I told her I was headed to Novosibirsk, and she explained that she was born and grew up there, as her parents studied there.


We are both skeptical that our baggage will make it to Domodedova.  For all I know, my bag may already be in Frankfurt.  The long wait has made us hungry.  Once again, the bags of trail mix came to the rescue.  I'm able to share with my neighbors.


Elena was in a chatty mood, and happily spoke about Russia, Siberia, and cultural differences.  She spoke about the Russian language, and gave me tips for dealing with the airport.  She was very helpful and graciously fielded questions from me.


The plane has a small interactive map in the headrests in front of each passenger showing where we are, along with our airspeed, altitude, temperature outside, and estimated remaining time in the trip.  The flight is routed just off the coast of Greenland, over Iceland, near Britain, over Scandinavia, and from there to Russia.  It is a 10-hour flight that became a 12-hour flight due to the delays.

Sleeping was next to impossible.  I tossed and turned in my cramped quarters.  Also, the students onboard were noisy.  Eventually, we did get a decent meal: ravioli and cheese.  By the time the plane was over Iceland, it was becoming daylight again.  It was disorienting.  Sleep was a series of shallow and brief naps.  The map could be changed into a little TV screen with movies and TV shows - but my headphones did not work.  I just did my best to doze.  


Here are all of my pictures from Day Two.

My Siberian Adventure - Day 1 - June 27, 2011

Begin: Gretna, Louisiana (home)
Drive to: Kenner, Louisiana (Louis Armstrong Airport)
Fly to: Washington, DC (Dulles)
Drive to: Leesburg, Virginia (Landsdowne Resort)

After weeks of preparation and after a few days of final arrangements, the Big Day is finally here.  I'm on the head-end of a 24-day trip halfway around the world.  I love to travel, and this is going to be the biggest and farthest adventure so far in my 47 years.

And I wake up miserable.

I am looking at more than three weeks of separation from my wife Grace and son Leo - and that is the best-case scenario - as anything can happen in this fallen world.

My mind races feverishly to come up with a way out, some excuse as to why I can't go.  Maybe I will be sick.  Maybe I will discover an erroneous date on my visa.  Something.  Anything. Of course, my rationality wins the debate with my premature homesickness, and I face the reality that I am leaving.  All is in God's hands. 

While heading out the door, the phone rings.  There is turmoil in the parish.  I spend the ride to the airport on the phone with a parishioner.  Grace and Leo accompany me into the airport and we run into another parishioner, Heather, who is an ICE agent on her way to Washington, DC for a conference.  We are scheduled to be on the same flight. 

I get my boarding pass and hang out for a few last minutes with Grace and Leo.  We take some pictures.  We say "goodbye" and I go to security.  This time (unlike my last airline experience), it is uneventful.  No being placed into the porno-scanner line, no opt-out, no groping.  I meet up with Heather (whose government status puts her in a different security category) at the gate.  Our flight is on time.  This is good, because I have a very tight connection in Washington.  And if I miss that flight, I miss my rendezvous with Pastor Dan Johnson - which means I would arrive in Moscow a day after he has already left, which means I would be on my own not only in Moscow, but in navigating an itinerary change on Siberian (S7) Airlines, which means all of our planning so that I would have help in Moscow would be out the window.  So, "on time" is good.  Very good.

Heather and I have time to grab lunch.  As I walk by the board, it is now showing out flight status as "delayed."  Great.  Nevertheless, I take the opportunity for one last po-boy and eat lunch with Heather.  Upon returning to the gate, we find that the delay is significant.  I call to find that it will be about two hours.  That's not good.  And (of course) of all the flights, this one is the only one that is delayed.

It has always been my luck at airports.  If I have a gate change, it will be the very maximum distance.  If there is one flight that has mechanical problems, it will be mine.  I am the Odysseus of air travel, and Neptune has, since the time of the Wright Brothers, apparently, become some kind of air demon in dire need of an attitude adjustment.  So, I'm annoyed but not surprised.  It's the same feeling as when I'm just about done with my sermon and the computer crashes. 

I made a bunch of calls to Dan, to United, and tried to contact S7 airlines in Russia.  There is an alternative flight through Frankfurt that could connect to Lufthansa and get me to Moscow.  Dan said: "Don't worry.  We have people in Moscow who can get you out of trouble."  That strikes me as sounding like a line from a Warren Zevon song.

I connect with S7 a couple times via computer, but the line is awful and on one occasion, they can't find anyone who speaks English.  Their hold music is the 1970s instrumental piece called Popcorn.  I did not get my internal travel within Russia resolved, but it did become apparent that my best bet was to get to Washington and hope for the best once there.  So now, our flight to Washington is boarding - a couple hours late - thanks to a (wait for it): "mechanical problem."

I'm seated next to a young couple with a baby - which I would have considered part of the Neptunic Curse in the days before becoming a father myself.  The couple are headed home from the ALA conference in New Orleans.  They live in West Virginia.  We know the same bookstore/coffeeshop in Charleston.  The husband works for a software company that pioneered library computerization.  Their little boy is bright-eyed, smiling, and reading a fabric book.  He reminds me of another little boy who was like that just a few years ago.

We still have not yet taken off.  There is a long line.  We're on an Airbus A320.

Finally, we begin to taxi, and I begin my traditional nap.  I woke to order a ginger ale and share the trail-mix Miss Grace packed for me (great idea, Mrs. H!) with my neighbors (this flight offers no food at all).  There is no wi-fi and no cell service - so I have no way to try to work out my potential problem with S7.

Since I'll be preaching on the Prodigal Son text in Novosibirsk, I decide to work on my sermon.  I read the text in English and Greek on my Nook.  Afterwards, I decide to continue reading the Rev. Richard Wurmbrand's book Alone With God, a collection of "sermons" he preached while in solitary confinement in Romania (by the way, all of Wurmbrand's works are available in Kindle format for a dollar each).  Interestingly, I am on a "sermon" called "Visiting Myself" which is about the Prodigal Son.  Wurmbrand writes: "Men travel the world over to visit other cultures and meet new people but never knock at the gate of their own person...."  Is this the divine sense of humor?

Some of Wurmbrand's reflections provide fodder for my own preaching.  Could Wurmbrand have imagined that as he was "preaching" in a dungeon into which he was placed by Communists that half a century later, a preacher not yet born would be traveling to Siberia to preach on this same text, and would read Wurmbrand's very words as a sermon preparation after the fall of the same totalitarian system in Russia that put him in prison for 14 years? 

Finally, we make our descent into DC.  For me to make my connection and get to Moscow, I need a miracle - perhaps a delayed flight to Moscow.  About 50 of us are displaced and sent to Customer Service at Dulles Airport.  This is not the miracle I hoped for.  A middle-aged woman barks at us to "stay in line."  The two German speaking guys behind me are not impressed as the opportunities for alternate transportation come and go on the flight board behind us.

There is no alternative flight to Moscow today.  I'm given a voucher for a hotel stay, vague instructions as to where to pick up the shuttle, and a $15 meal voucher.  I wait at "Curb H8" for a bus to pick me up.  After a half-hour, the two displaced German-speakers join me: Herbert and Klaus.  Both men are losing a day's work.  Both are highly unimpressed by United's consistent lack of professionalism and competence. 

The shuttle takes us for a 45-minute ride to the Landsdowne Resort - which really is a resort.  It is located in the middle of a golf course in Leesburg, Virginia.  After checking in, the guys agree to meet for dinner.  I would normally have said "no."  I like my private time to read and be left alone.  But this is an adventure, and since providence has arranged things in such an unexpected way, I decide to hang out with the German-speaking guys.  I agree to meet them for dinner.

I go to my room, log onto the Internet, and make some progress with S7.  I asked them to change my reservation for a day later, and they promise to call me back to get my credit card number.  So, I head to the restaurant/pub armed with my $15 United voucher (which in this place will probably get me a packet of ketchup and a cup of warm water...), and meet up with my fellow resort-refugees.

Herbert is a 51-year old dentist from the Vienna area.  We have a good chat over sandwiches and beer.  I had a steak panini (which maxed out the voucher) and washed it down with a Stella Artois.  Herbert was visiting his son in New Orleans, who is himself on a sort-of tour of America working on his English.  He is completing dental school and will soon join his father's practice.  Father and son met in New Orleans for a visit - and both apparently really had a good time.  After a while, we are joined by Klaus, a German army pilot currently from Munich who had been visiting Baton Rouge and New Orleans.

While at the restaurant, my phone went off.  It was S7.  I read off my credit card info, but their computer system dropped.  They promised to call back.  I hope I have a reservation.

Since we are scheduled to fly out about the same time, the three of us arrange for a 3:00 pm ride to the airport the next day.  We made plans for a walk at 10:00 the next morning.  I was able to go back to my room and use SnapYap to do a video conference with Grace.  I did some reading and took a nice hot shower. 

So, I spent the night in a resort in Washington when I should have been sleeping on a plane to Moscow.  My American contact has already left for Russia.  I'm still waiting on a call about my flight from Moscow to Novosibirsk.  The adventure hasn't even started and its already an adventure.

Here are all of my pictures from Day One.

My Siberian Adventure - Introduction

Father Hollywood and Father Vladislav meet in Chelyabinsk, Russia

I was very busy with parish matters, and almost didn't take the call on my cellphone.  But I'm glad I did.

A few months ago, I received a phone call that turned out to be quite remarkable. It was from the Rev. Dr. Tim Quill - one of my professors at Concordia Theological Seminary. Dr. Quill is a beloved seminary instructor, highly respected not only as an academic theologian, but also as a man with the compassionate heart of a pastor. I had the privilege to study under him in the areas of Homiletics (preaching) and Lutheran Worship (liturgics).  He is a churchman who always has something witty, profound, or interesting (and practical) to say.

Dr. Quill was also the head of the seminary's Russian Project, a several-year operation to train men from the former Soviet Union at Concordia (Fort Wayne) for the purpose of educating pastors in order to establish an indigenous Russian Lutheran seminary. The project was a remarkable success by the gracious providence of our blessed Lord.

Anyway, Dr. Quill called to let me know that the Rt. Rev. Vsevolod Lytkin, the bishop of the Siberian Evangelical Lutheran Church - one of our sister church bodies in Russia - had asked me to come and teach at their annual Summer Seminars. There were considerable hurdles - financial and otherwise - to overcome. But I told him that I would prayerfully consider the invitation.

By God's grace, through sponsorship of many friends and parishioners, and with the support and encouragement of my dear wife, I was able to commit to the trip. Dr. Quill paired me up with the Rev. Daniel S. Johnson of Redeemer Lutheran Church in Marshalltown, Iowa to travel with me and to assist me in the complex process of securing visas, buying plane tickets, and working with our Siberian brethren to work out schedules.  Thankfully, the Rev. Warren Schulingkamp was able to conduct services at Salem in my absence, and the Rev. Philip Miller of Christ Lutheran Church in Chalmette graciously agreed to be on call for me while I was away.

Pastor Johnson has turned out not only to be a great help as an expert in these matters (he is the president of the Siberian Lutheran Mission Society and has been traveling nearly every year to Russia since 2000), but is also a wise and experienced pastor (at the same parish for 18 years) and has become a great friend and colleague as a result of our time traveling together.  I'm grateful for all that he has done for me, and I thoroughly enjoyed our adventures on this trip.

There were several weeks of preparation, but we managed to work out a schedule. Our trip would span 24 days, from June 27 to July 20. We would each be lecturing in three cities in Russia, each preaching in one of our churches, visiting seven of our sister congregations, and would be touring parts of Siberia and the Ural region by planes, trains, and automobiles - including the legendary Trans-Siberian Railroad (not to be confused with the Trans-Siberian Orchestra).

Pastor Johnson is a wealth of wisdom and experience in travel in Russia, and one of his best bits of advice was to keep a travel journal. So, rather than blog in "real time," I took a step back and actually wrote on paper with a pen - which to me, is only a step removed from cutting cuneiform wedges into clay tablets. But it was a great exercise and I am glad I took his advice. I carried around a pocket Moleskin notebook and scribbled in the journal as time allowed. I later took these notes and wrote into a larger leatherbound journal - thus preserving an account of my adventure that is both a raw account in real time as well as some editorial reflection in hindsight.

I also took a ton of pictures and video.

Now that I'm back, I will blog from my travel journal and from my photos and video footage (which I will also be uploading to Flickr and YouTube). This is going to take a while.

So, here is my plan: I will blog one day at a time. It may take many weeks or months to complete this project - but I hope it will prove interesting to some Father Hollywood readers. Obviously, as with any blog, some things will be of interest to some, and not at all to others. I will be heavily editing my journal notes in an attempt to try to balance relevance with detail.

Along the way, I hope to share with you my esteem and affection for our brothers and sisters in the Siberian Evangelical Lutheran Church. The one holy catholic and apostolic Church is an article of faith. It is a miracle that the Church survives from one generation to the next - especially in light of the persecution she has been subject to in twenty centuries. The story of Lutheran Christianity in Russia is a story of trial and triumph, of tragedy and tenacity, of suffering and the sufficiency of God's grace. The existence of the SELC is nothing less than a miracle. I count it a privilege that I was able to meet, speak with, worship with, and befriend so many extraordinary people in Russia.

If you would like some background concerning the SELC, please check out the website of the Siberian Lutheran Mission Society, especially the newsletters and the videos (here, here, here, and here). The video entitled "The Other Side of the Truth" accurately captures the life and work of our clergy and lay brethren in Siberia.  Also, keep in mind, 100% of all donations to the SLMS go directly to Russia.  None of your donations go to overhead or to pay salaries of the SLMS.  All of their work is voluntary and all of their in-house costs are paid by specific donors.

So, I hope my scribblings are enlightening or entertaining to someone.  If nothing else, it will be a good exercise for me to review and meditate anew on my great adventure.  And if someone else is encouraged to pray for, financially support, or even to visit Siberia - I will count this project a great success.  Regardless, I am grateful that God allowed me to go, to teach, to preach, to learn, to befriend, and to experience Russian people, culture, and places of interest.

And of course, I'm also grateful to Dr. Quill, Pastor Johnson, Bishop Lytkin, and the many other friends, lay and clergy, Lutheran and non-Lutheran, who were so kind to me while in Russia and in transit.

I'm really glad I answered that phone call!

I hope he's wrong... Part Deux

I hope he's wrong...

... but I'm sad to say that I think Dr. Paul's somber warning is spot on. 

Monster: Portrait of Stalin in Blood

Gulag mugshot of Russian writer Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn

Monster: Portrait of Stalin in Blood is a six-part documentary by Russian filmmaker Alexandre Ivankin that makes use of "recently released archival footage" of the terrors of life under Stalin.  The film has been uploaded in parts on YouTube and they are linked above.

HT: Charles Burris on Lew Rockwell

Renaissance Man

Rockstar, world class fencer, and professional pilot Bruce Dickinson

The Art of Manliness has an article about becoming a Renaissance Man Without Spending a Dime.

The gist of the piece is that today, thanks to technology, anyone with the desire and determination can become a true Renaissance Man - especially when it comes to education.  The limits on human potential owing to lack of money to afford education and lack of learning materials based on one's physical location in the world are quickly becoming a thing of the past.


There are many examples of just how otherwise ordinary people all over the world - not James Bond or Indiana Jones, but real people - are doing extraordinary things.  For example, Benny Lewis (known as the Irish Polyglot) went from being a 21-year old language failure to being a 27-year old world traveller and polyglot, fluent in 8 languages (and currently a student of 8 additional tongues).  He posits that anyone - with discipline and determination - can become fluent in any language in three months.  It is not a matter of being a genius.  It is, rather, a matter of drive.

I find people like Benny not only helpful in a technical kind of way (with good insights and tips for learning languages), but inspirational by way of encouragement in accomplishing goals in this life.

Another example of a Renaissance Man comes from where one might least expect it: from the shadowy world of Heavy Metal rock music.  Bruce Dickinson is best known as the lead singer for the 1980s metal outfit Iron Maiden.  And for most people, being the frontman of an internationally-known rock band, being rated as the seventh greatest metal vocalist of all time, being able to sing in addition to playing drums and guitars - as well as write songs - would likely satisfy 99% of people.

But not Dickinson.

For he is a "polymath" - a true Renaissance Man whose desires and interests propel him to strike out and try new and extraodinary things - things other men only daydream about.  And not only does Dickenson try such things, he succeeds and makes his mark in many fields of endeavor.

At the age of 52, Bruce Dickinson is listed on Wikipedia as a "singer, songwriter, airline pilot, fencer, broadcaster, author, screenwriter, actor and marketing director." 

Whether or not one appreciates the Heavy Metal music genre, how can one not be astounded by such a person and inspired by his example to take a few risks in life?

Bruce Dickinson has accomplished amazing things in the competitive sport of fencing - recently competing internationally and coming in seventh in Great Britain.  If that weren't enough, he founded a company that makes fencing equipment.  He has also worked in radio and television, drove a Russian T34 tank on the Military Channel, wrote two successful novels, scripted a screenplay that became a movie, and acted in two BBC television shows.

And yet, this is still not enough for a Renaissance Man.  Dickinson has a genuine love for aviation.  He works as a professional commercial pilot and marketing director for a British charter airline company.  Flying a Boeing 757, he has rescued stranded people from troubled places in the world - including a group of RAF pilots from Afghanistan.  You can also see him on Youtube having a go at flying an A320Airbus for the first time and commenting on its features.

The Wikipedia article tangentially mentions that he is also a poet and a painter.

And, by the way, in spite of his euphonious set of pipes, he has had no formal voice training.

Here are some videos for your polymath pleasure and metallurgical musicality:

Tattooed Millionaire (1990)



Tears of the Dragon (1994)



Man of Sorrows (1997)



Bonus for reading to the end of the blogpost: here is a pic of Bruce Dickinson from Mrs. Hollywood backstage at an Iron Maiden show in Toronto, March 1987.

Sermon: Trinity 6 – 2011

31 July 2011 at Salem Lutheran Church, Gretna, LA


Text: Matt 5:17-26 (Ex 20:1-17, Rom 6:1-11)

In the name of + Jesus. Amen.

To the world, the Christian faith is absurd. To our reason, the Christian faith is impossible. To our sinful flesh, the Christian faith is offensive. But, dear friends, to “all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus,” this faith is a revelation from the very God who created us, who redeems us, and who has made us His holy people through water and the Word.

In faith, we hear the words of our Lord not with mockery, not with offense, but humbly and with joy.

For our Lord has words of life and salvation for us today, dear friends, words of renewal and reclamation, words of reconciliation and peace. Our blessed Lord was sent into the world not to abolish the Law and the Prophets, but to fulfill them. And in so doing, our Lord brings healing and reconciliation – between men, and between man and God. He has come into our existence to redeem existence, to build up that which has been torn down, to bring to life that which is dead.

So, dear brothers and sisters, why should we cling to that which is dead in us? Why would we want to hold onto grudges and hatred? What could be so important to our angry, hateful, sinful, dying flesh as to begrudge our brethren to the point at which we should “leave our gift there before the altar and go”?

But “to whom shall we go?” we ask rhetorically with St. Peter.

For even when we are being wronged, when we are being lied about, when we are being slandered, or even (God forbid!) persecuted and tortured for the sake of our confession of Christ, what good comes from responding with hatred? We should pity those who oppress the church. Better yet, we should pray with the church for those who hate us, and to plead with the Lord “to forgive our enemies, persecutors, and slanderers, and to turn their hearts,” even as our dear Lord did on the cross. For has He not said, “Take up your cross and follow Me”?

For the cross is not merely a divine punishment for sin, it is also a divine reconciliation of the sinner – all of us “poor miserable sinners.” Through our Lord’s cross, the Law and the Prophets are fulfilled in our stead, the guilt of sin has been purged on our behalf, and the enmity we have by virtue of our sins with God and with men, has been eradicated in spite of our unworthiness – by His worthiness, by means of His grace, and by the power of His love.

The commandments have indeed not been abolished – “not an iota, not a dot,” but have rather been brought to completion by the One who suffered at our hands for our sakes.

We can love those who attack us because He loved those who attacked Him. We can continue to pray for peace because He has secured the peace. We can pray for those who hate us, because He prays for those who hate Him – even to the point of dying for them and continuing to call them to repentance.

This is why even in our litigious society, dear friends, we do seek reconciliation. We do strive to “come to terms quickly” with our accusers to avoid having to go to court – even when we are the innocent party. And then, dear brothers and sisters, if they will not listen to us, if they spurn our entreaties, if they refuse to repent – even then we are to pray fervently for them. This is what it means that our righteousness must exceed “that of the scribes and Pharisees.” It is not enough only to love those who love us – for even the heathen do that. It is not enough to follow the Law to the letter – for we lack the power and the righteousness to do so. But the good news is this: our Blessed Lord has followed the Law to the letter, and He gives us that righteousness – even the rightouesness that loves those who hate us – as a free and full gift.

So what do we have to complain about, dear friends? For “if we have died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with Him.” And just as “death no longer has dominion over Him,” neither do death and its allies: Satan and our sinful flesh, rule over us and drag us away from our salvation. This is indeed what it means that we the baptized are exhorted by the apostle to “consider yourselves dead to sin and alive to God in Christ Jesus.”

It is this kind of life that transcends death itself. This is why Christian funerals often invoke St, Paul’s inspired exhortation: “For if we have been united with Him in a death like His, we shall certainly be united with Him in a resurrection like His…. We know that Christ, being raised from the dead, will never die again.”

Once again, dear friends, death has no dominion over our Lord, and death has no dominion over you. Death has no dominion over you! The Law and the Prophets are fulfilled in Christ. Your sins have been paid in full by Christ. Your lives are a ransom of Christ. Your very existence as a creature, as a forgiven sinner, as a saint made and kept by the Word is a testimony to Christ.

For it is Christ who fulfills the Law, Christ who fulfills the prophets, Christ who has expunged our sins, Christ who bids us to die and rise with Him, Christ who reconciles us to the Lord and to our fellow man, and Christ who grants us everlasting life.

Dear friends, hear the Word of our Lord Jesus Christ. And what’s more, do not resist as that divine Word has its way with you, saves you, and restores you. To resist God’s call to repent and to love your enemies is to resist life itself. To choose hatred and rage is to choose death. To refuse to reconcile with your brother is nothing other than spiritual suicide.

Our Lord does not call us to be this way, to be alive to sin and dead to God, but rather the very opposite: to be “dead to sin and alive to God in Christ Jesus.”

That, dear friends, is what it means to be a Christian, a redeemed sinner, a recipient of the free gift of everlasting life.

So let the world scoff, let the devil attack, let your sinful flesh offer up feeble lies – only cling to Christ and His Word, His sacraments and His love, His life and His salvation, His gifts and His grace. For He is the Way, the Truth, and the Life, the One who has come to fulfill everything for you, now, and even unto eternity.

Amen.

In the name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Europe and Asia

Thanks to Fr. Alexey and Fr. Sergey for bringing me to the border between Europe* and Asia* in Yekaterinburg, Russia, July 14, 2011.  Photo courtesy of Fr. Daniel.

* Make sure you click on the links for Europe and Asia for the full 80s epic goodness.

Sermon: Trinity 5 – 2011 and Baptism of Quinn Donald Brown

24 July 2011 at Salem Lutheran Church, Gretna, LA

Text: Luke 5:1-11 (1 Kings 19:11-21, 1 Cor 1:18-25)

In the name of + Jesus. Amen.

“Master, we toiled all night and took nothing!” says Peter, protesting the Lord’s command to “let down [his] nets for a catch.”

According to the wisdom of the world, hard work is rewarded. And even as there is such a thing as luck, as the old saying goes, “the harder I work, the luckier I get.”

In this world, if you want to succeed, you must work. And as a rule, the more you work, the greater your reward. And this is why Peter, the fisherman, the businessman, the laborer, the one who is wise in the ways of the world, pushes back against the word of this preacher who just walked off the shore and got into Peter’s boat.

It is as though Peter is telling our Lord: “You don’t understand how the world works. I do. I know my business better than you do. I am wise in the ways of the world.” But in spite of Peter’s reliance on his own toil, knowledge, experience, and worldly wisdom, a small part of him submits to the Lord – who is, of course, the creator of the world. Something not of flesh and blood has indeed revealed to Peter that this man’s word is none other than God’s Word. For Peter takes a leap of faith: “But at your word…”

“But at Your Word…”

Dear brothers and sisters, we too live in the world. We are businessmen and laborers, we know how things work in this world. But along with St. Peter, we Christians take that leap of faith, saying to the same Lord Jesus: “But at Your Word…”

Our reason tells us that we can depend on our own toil, our own good intentions, our own preparations and plans, our own knowledge and experience in our Christian faith and life. Our reason tells us this because our reason has been distorted with sin. Our reason deceives us because God’s kingdom doesn’t work like the world.

Reason tells us that little Quinn cannot be a Christian, he cannot believe, he cannot be baptized. Reason tells us that Quinn must reason for himself, that he must do something other than passively receive some water on the head and be in the presence of some words uttered by Jesus and without toil receive grace as a free gift. And even if our reason protests, we, the Church, say along with ever-honest St. Peter: “But at your word I will let down the nets.”

“But at Your Word I will let down the nets.”

For in the net of the Gospel, in the net of Holy Baptism, in the net of the Word of God, we have caught billions of people from every time and place – born again, created anew, made holy and worthy to stand in God’s presence, saved from sin, death, and the devil; rescued from the skewed and distorted wisdom of this fallen world, marked with the sign of the holy cross, sealed with the unction of the Holy Spirit, and given the very promise of everlasting life from the lips of Jesus himself, who spoke in the hearing of St. Peter and in the Scripture-filled ears of the church: “Make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.”

We have let down our nets yet again, dear friends, and we have caught yet another disciple, Quinn. By our own toil, we take nothing. By our own reason, we gain nothing. By our own strength, we hold nothing. But at God’s Word, by God’s command, through God’s promise, we are fishers of men and dispensers of the mystery of eternal life! Through faith we are caught by God’s grace, and gain everything!

“And when they had done this,” says the evangelist, meaning, when they had put the Lord’s Word, the Lord’s command, the Lord’s gracious invitation into action, “when they had done this, they enclosed a large number of fish and their nets were breaking.”

Dear brothers and sisters, this is how the church grows. She does not grow by our own toil, our cleverness, our marketing techniques, our technology, our gadgets, our ability to tickle the ears of our listeners with an entertaining message that they want to hear. The church does not grow by the “wisdom of the wise and the discernment of the discerning.” For our methods are “folly to those who are perishing.” Preaching, baptism, absolution, and the Lord’s Supper is indeed foolishness to those who are dying. “But to us who are being saved, it is the power of God.” For the cross of Christ is delivered to us by these sacramental means, and we, dear friends, we are caught up in that net and drawn out of the baptismal waters and raised to new life in Christ.

“For the foolishness of God is wiser than men, and the weakness of God is stronger than men.”

The world demands signs and wonders. The world demands rational answers and wisdom. “But we preach Christ crucified… the power of God and the wisdom of God.”

The world scoffs at God’s Word and would rather rely on its own wisdom. Our sinful flesh pushes back against God’s Word and would rather rely on our own toil. And the difference between the world and the church is that the church takes that leap of faith along with the holy apostle whose cosmic doubts at times seem to outweigh his mustard seed of faith, saying: “But at your word.”

For at His Word, the sinner is made a saint, the dead are brought to life, the guilty are declared innocent, and we learn not to listen for the Word of God in winds and earthquakes and fires, but rather in “the sound of a low whisper,” the Word of God whose power is in its divine truth. And truth is truth, and God’s Word is God’s Word, whether shouted from the rooftop or uttered softly to a baby at a font.

Dear friends, let us rejoice anew at God’s Word. For in His Word is truth, is power, is wisdom that puts to shame the wisdom of the world. And even though the world may scoff, may scowl, may mock, may persecute, may deny, or may seek to silence the preaching of Christ the Crucified One, we join with Quinn, with St. Peter, with one another, and with Christians of every time and place in praying:


Then let us follow Christ our Lord,
And take the cross appointed
And firmly clinging to His Word,
In suff’ring be undaunted.
For those who bear the battle strain
The crown of heav’nly life obtain.

Amen.

In the name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.