June 18 - Good News from Fox Hill

A FIRM FOUNDATION

1 Peter 2: 2-10                                                                                                                   John 14: 1-14

Like newborn infants, long for the pure, spiritual milk, so that by it you may grow into salvation—if indeed you have tasted that the Lord is good. Come to him, a living stone, though rejected by mortals yet chosen and precious in God’s sight, and like living stones, let yourselves be built into a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ. For it stands in scripture:

 “See, I am laying in Zion a stone, a cornerstone chosen and precious;

 and whoever believes in him will not be put to shame.”

To you then who believe, he is precious; but for those who do not believe,

 “The stone that the builders rejected has become the very head of the corner,”

And “A stone that makes them stumble, and a rock that makes them fall.”

They stumble because they disobey the word, as they were destined to do. But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people, in order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light. Once you were not a people, but now you are God’s people; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy.

So, it is true that faith really matters here in Fox Hill, Wisconsin, my hometown, the gateway to central Wisconsin.  It was particularly quiet on Friday evening.  There was no traffic on Main Street, no parties going on in any of the homes, and The Bijou, our $5 movie theater, was practically vacant.  It was the night of the Fox Hill High School prom and all the Juniors and Seniors, their chaperones, teachers and school administrators were at the Sons of Lombardi lodge in Appleton for the big event. The prom had been postponed from early May to Mid-June because of the coronavirus and the Lombardi hall in Appleton was the only place they could find large enough to accommodate about 25 couples, all dancing six feet apart. To enforce the rule, the PTA has fashioned caps with three foot swim sausages extending from the back and sides to keep the couple apart. Many of the parents had asked for a sausage on the front also to keep the couples six feet apart, but six feet is way more than the catholic nuns insisted as six inches to allow room for the Holy Spirit.

                Vicar Lena of the Fox Hill Lutheran Church however didn’t think it was all that quiet.  Her phone at the apartment kept ringing off the hook all night long with anxious parents, usually a Mom, complaining that they shouldn’t have held the prom so far away from home.  “Surely the fire hall in Fox Hill would have worked just as well.  If they had come up with a prom theme like “Hot Time in the City,” why then even the fire trucks could have served as realistic decorations.  But Appleton!  How are we going to be able to spy on our daughters and sons and make sure they don’t get into any trouble if they’re so far away?”

                Vicar Lena would offer words of reassuring comfort to calm them down, “They’re your children.  You taught them well.  They’ll follow your example.”  She wondered whether she should have included that last line, knowing some of the parents she had spoken to.  Then the minute she would hang up, the phone would ring with another hysterical mom.

                But perhaps the loudest noise that evening may have come from the back porch of David and Judy Martin’s home.  David, you might remember, has been taking more time off now that the church had a student intern after his lengthy pastorate.  He had taken up a hobby in semi-retirement, much to his wife Judy’s chagrin, of collecting individually different beer cans.  He had already gathered 1,186 different cans; not that he had done all the drinking. He would dumpster dive at rest areas or parking lots or picnic areas or anywhere there were garbage cans. And his brother in Florida served as an East coast extension to his hobby. The walls of his home office were already covered with shelves of cans and he had just told Judy that he was going to have to put up more shelves to display more new cans on her dining room walls.

                That’s when Judy blew her top.  And I know for a fact from my parents who live next door to the Martins that when Judy began yelling at her husband’s hair-brained idea, their dog started barking and woke all of the other sleeping dogs who, with the kids all gone to Appleton, had nothing better to do than to form a chorus of howling throughout the town.  After Judy calmed down, she conceded that if her husband wanted to continue collecting more cans, he would have to put up a shed in the backyard to hold them all.

                “A shed!” thought Pastor Martin, “what a great idea.  I could build a shed.”  Well, no, he couldn’t.  David Martin has always been a hard worker, but he doesn’t know his way around a lumber yard and he’s never used a power tool in his life.  He’s only sawed wood, drilled screws and hammered nails by hand.  So he gave Karl Krankshaw a call to see if he could give him some help on Saturday.

                David had bought a “Do-It-Yourself” kit from The Shed Man, kind of like IKEA, but no good Norwegian would ever buy anything from a Swedish company, dontcha know.  Karl arrived at the Martin home at 9AM. And David was ready to tear into the box and get to work building a shed.

                “Whoa!  Hold on, David,” said Karl, “You can’t build the shed until we have a proper, level foundation to put it on.  The sure foundation is the most important part of the project.  Or else, your shed would be crooked, the doors won’t close together, and within a few years, all your work would be in vain.”

                So, the first four and a half hours of the morning were spent in building a level foundation.  They went to Mabey’s Lumber and Gravel to get wood and screws.  Karl did all the figuring and ordering with the owner, Lars Mabey, himself.  David’s only contribution was to ask if they offered a guarantee policy.  Lars just stared at him and finally said, “At Mabey’s Lumber and Gravel we stand behind our good name.  Is it the best quality wood?  Will we replace anything that might be defective?  Mabey – that’s my name and I’m proud of it.

                Lars looked at Karl quizzically and asked, “Is this guy helping you?”  Karl admitted, “It’s actually his shed.”  “Good luck with that,” quipped Lars.

                Then Karl and David got to work framing the foundation to the exact dimensions of the shed, leveling its placement, digging out a little on one side and filling in a little on the other side, finally getting it in place and then putting a covering of plywood over the top.  The foundation was finally done and it had taken all morning long.

                For lunch, Karl and David went to Dan’s Diner and ordered a burger and a Leinenkugel Beer – the beer with the name on it you can’t pronounce.  Karl said, “That may have taken a while, David, but in the end you’ll be glad we put so much time and energy into such a fine foundation.  And six hours later, a well-constructed shed was sitting upon a firm and level foundation.

                Now Vicar Lena had heard about her predecessor’s work project and stopped by in the evening for a look-see.  Plus, she always appreciated having the wizened pastor as a supervisor and mentor.  So she would often visit for consultation and advice.  Today, I guess they call it “spiritual direction.”  But David Martin just thought of it a good, common sense.

                “Nice shed,” she said, “Looks like you and Karl did a fine job on it.”  David admitted, “I couldn’t have done it without him.  How do you like the foundation?”  “The what?” she asked.  And then he realized that, with the shed in place, no one could actually see the foundation.  The most important part would go unseen.

                Vicar Lena changed subjects, “The church is declining.  I’m afraid Fox Hill Lutheran Church may have to close if present trends continue.  Even before the virus hit, there are fewer children in Sunday School.  Most of the regular members were attending once a month instead of every week.  We never knew who was going to show up for the choir anthem.  Church just doesn’t seem to be a priority in the lives of people anymore.”

                Pastor Martin didn’t know what to say, “I wish I knew how to help.  But it’s not you, Lena, or me for that matter.  You’re going to be a better pastor and a far better preacher than I ever was.  And it’s happening in every church and in every denomination.”  Then suddenly an inspiration hit him, “I think the problem is that families no longer have the time and energy and effort to provide a firm foundation of faith in Jesus Christ for themselves and for their children.  It’s like they spend all their time on the walls of a shed – good grades in school, participating in sports, engaging in the arts, being good citizens – but provide no foundation of faith to hold it level and firm.  And then they’re surprised and angry when the whole thing seems to fall apart.  It’s like the apostle wrote in 1 Peter: Christ is the cornerstone, chosen and precious, and all the faithful will not be put to shame.”

                Vicar Lena was quite impressed, ”OK, then help me with this one also.  I have a baptism at church tomorrow for a couple I’ve never heard of before.  They don’t even live around here.  They’re coming up from Milwaukee just to have their baby baptized at Fox Hill Lutheran Church.  I just don’t get it!”

                “Oh, I do,” said the old pastor, “I know them.  I baptized and confirmed the mother here at Fox Hill Lutheran many years ago.  And I went down to the city to marry the two of them.  They’re coming back to Fox Hill Lutheran Church because this is where her family put in the time and commitment to provide for her a firm foundation of faith in Jesus Christ.  And I’m confident that she’ll do the same for her child.”

                Vicar Lena returned to her apartment thinking, “I don’t know how he does it, but he always seems to say just the right thing.”  The light was flashing on her answering machine.  She pressed the button to hear the voice of one of the distressed mothers from Friday night, “I wanted to call to thank you, Vicar Lena, for your comforting words when I was freaking out about my daughter being so far away at the prom.  It seems I was upset over nothing.  She had a great time and everything went smoothly.  I guess you were right about trusting in the foundation of faith we provided for her.  Somehow you always seem to say the right thing.  Thanks again, and God bless you.”

                Well, the next time I go back home to Fox Hill, I’ll have to check out Pastor Martin’s shed, and his beer can collection, and thank God for my family and all the people of Fox Hill Lutheran Church who helped build for me a sure foundation of faith in Jesus Christ.

                And that’s the Good News from Fox Hill, where faith really matters for every single man, woman, and child; oh, and the married ones too. AMEN.

The Fifth Sunday of Easter

May 14, 2017

The Good News from Fox Hill - June 11, 2020

The Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost

1 Kings 19: 4-8                                                                   Ephesians 4: 25—5:2                                       John 6: 35, 41-51

Jesus said to them, "I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty. Then the Jews began to complain about him because he said, "I am the bread that came down from heaven." They were saying, "Is not this Jesus, the son of Joseph, whose father and mother we know? How can he now say, 'I have come down from heaven'?" Jesus answered them, "Do not complain among yourselves. No one can come to me unless drawn by the Father who sent me; and I will raise that person up on the last day. It is written in the prophets, 'And they shall all be taught by God.' Everyone who has heard and learned from the Father comes to me. Not that anyone has seen the Father except the one who is from God; he has seen the Father. Very truly, I tell you, whoever believes has eternal life. I am the bread of life. Your ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness, and they died. This is the bread that comes down from heaven, so that one may eat of it and not die. I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh."

FREE MEAL

So, it is true that faith really matters here in Fox Hill, Wisconsin, my hometown. Here, in the upper Midwest, the weekends are especially quiet in the summertime when everyone in town heads out to their camp around Lake Madsen. And once they’re settled in at camp, there’s nothing that will lure a fisherman away from his dream hooking of a walleye. So the quietest place on a Sunday morning is Fox Hill Lutheran Church. On a beautiful summer Sunday you could shoot a cannon through the pews of the church and not hurt a soul.

The Lutheran Church has a new summer intern to work with Pastor Martin. She is a third year student from the seminary in Gettysburg, PA. They give the title “Vicar” to a student intern. Vicar Lena hails from that part of New Jersey where a tornado would cause one million dollars’ worth of improvements. She has no experience of the traditions and habits of the folks from Packer Country. She can’t understand how the church can be so empty. Pastor Martin has tried to explain to her that the city folk from Milwaukee try to flee the hustle and bustle and the locals from Fox Hill try to flee the gossip and keen eyes of their neighbors. The lake camp is their refuge and escape.

But Vicar Lena has all sorts of ideas to try to bring them all back to town for Sunday worship. “How about an outdoor picnic service?” she asked her supervisor. “How about a hymn sing?” Last Saturday, she tried an evening service at the lakefront park, singing camp songs with her guitar, and only a vacationing pastor and his wife from Pewaukee attended. Then she put up a sign on the front lawn of the church advertising “FREE meal every Sunday morning.”  Maybe people would think it clever and come on in.

                She knew that once a week, during the bitter Wisconsin winters, the people of Fox Hill Lutheran were known for their free, hot dinner every Tuesday night for the community. They would set up the tables in the church hall and then a rotation of community organizations would provide the hot dish. Our Lady of Desperate Hope Roman Catholic Church would provide spaghetti, of course. The Community Youth Group would provide a tater tot and ground beef casserole with a jello salad.  The Grange would cook up Swedish meatballs. An average of 150 would attend, except when the Viking Lodge brought lutefisk in white sauce.

Last Sunday, after spending the night on a park bench in Millett (which if you know Millett you know that is luxurious accommodations!) anyway – Chad Gabriel Ortega had already hiked seven miles when he arrived in Fox Hill at about the time worship had started at the Lutheran Church.  He was hungry and thirsty and the sign out front offering a free meal seemed like a sign from God.  God had been miraculously providing for him all during his crusade to raise up soldiers for Jesus from the Midwest to travel with him to Israel to fight the final eschatological battle of Armageddon verses Satan and his demons.

                I think Chad had a few demons of his own to deal with. He sat down in the last pew, usually occupied by good Lutherans, as Vicar Lena began her sermon, figuring this must be like the Salvation Army where you get fed a sermon before you get fed a meal.

                Vicar Lena was still in a funky mood.  All her creative evangelism efforts weren’t working, except for this one suspicious looking and sounding stranger.  The few in the pews all turned their heads to stare at him.  Plus, now, just beginning her ministry, she was going through the lectionary readings, dealing with a month of Sundays on the Gospel of John, chapter 6.  I mean, how much more could she say about the feeding of the 5,000?  Especially when hardly anyone was there to be fed.  For her, it was more like the feeding of the 15, and that didn’t seem like much of a miracle. Why, her mother in New Jersey did that every Sunday!

                In her mind it was inconceivable that people could go a whole week without being nourished at the table of the Lord.  Corporate worship is that unique opportunity to be fed both by the Word of God in song, scripture, sermon and prayer; and fed by the Word of God in bread and wine, the very presence of Jesus in flesh and blood.  We call it Holy Communion because we commune with Jesus and with one another in community.  In the sharing of bread and wine, Jesus promises to be with us and to feed us just as he miraculously fed the 5,000.  Joel Osteen or Joyce Meyer don’t do that on your TV screen.  You can’t do that isolated at your summer camp.  It is the essence of what it means to be the church.

                There have been times when she has come this close to giving up, feeling that all her study to be a pastor was to no avail.  But, even as she preached that Elisha miraculously fed 100 and Elijah had the choice to give up and die or to get up and eat, so she wasn’t about to give up and she surely didn’t want to die.  So she would continue to get up and eat and to live in the promise of the living bread from heaven.

                So also thought Peter (Chad Gabriel Ortega went by the name of Peter because he believed it to be a holy name.  Peter was a disciple’s name.  There was no disciple named Chad or Gabriel, even though that was at least an angel’s name. And he kind of liked the name of Peter Gabriel. He liked his music and, well, who doesn’t), “I have also come close to giving up and dying.  And now, I really need something to eat.”

                People began to stand up and form something like a serving line, so he got up and joined them.  Kneeling with the others at the altar railing, he was disappointed to get a small wafer of bread placed in his hands and a tiny shot glass of wine.  But then he thought, “Ah, appetizers!  Cool.”  But just then everybody got up, went back to their seats, sang a hymn and then they were done.

                Following the others out down the center aisle, he was greeted by Pastor Martin and Vicar Lena.  “Hello,” he said, “You can call me Peter.  I came for the free meal.”

                “Yes,” laughed Vicar Lena, thinking he got the joke, “Thank you for joining us today.”

                Peter stared at her for an uncomfortable moment and finally broke the silence, “So, when do we eat?  I’m starving.”

                “Oh, no,” replied Vicar Lena, ‘The bread and the wine, that’s the meal of Holy Communion which Jesus gives to us freely by his grace and love.  It’s not food for the stomach that fails after a few hours and then you’re hungry again.  It’s food for your soul.  Jesus is the living bread that comes down from heaven.  When we eat his body, that is the bread, and drink his blood, that is the wine, we are fed for eternal life.  That’s why we gather every Sunday to share this holy meal.

                Vicar Lena quickly realized how disappointed Peter seemed.  While feeding the soul is done every Sunday at Fox Hill Lutheran Church, she knew that feeding the body was ministry also.  In the summer, at Noon every Tuesday the church serves hot dogs and macaroni and cheese to the poor children in town who have no camp to go to.

                “Come on downstairs with me, Peter,” invited Vicar Lena, “we can whip you up some macaroni and cheese.”  From the dozen of boxes on the counter Pastor Lena grabbed one and mixed up the ingredients and cooked it in the microwave.  Peter ate until he was stuffed and Vicar Lena joined him in the meal.  And there was still plenty left over.  The young Vicar then realized that she had just witnessed a true miracle of divine providence.  She only wished 5,000 people could have witnessed it as well, instead of just she and Peter.

                Refreshed and full, Peter got up to leave and continue his journey.  Vicar Lena refused his invitation to go to Israel with him, saying she would take her chances with the end times, staying right there in Fox Hill.  This time Peter shook Vicar Lena’s hand gratefully and said, “I’m really glad your sign out front wasn’t lying.  Thanks for the free meal – both of them.”

                And that’s the Good News from Fox Hill, where faith really matters for every single man, woman, and child; oh, and the married ones too. AMEN.

Rev. James Slater

Emanuel and St. Luke’s Lutheran Churches

Stuyvesant Falls and Valatie, NY

August 9, 2015

Good News at Noon from Good Sam - June 4, 2020
WORDS OF FORGIVENESS
Acts 4: 8-12 1 John 1:1—2:2 Luke 24: 36-49
We declare to you what was from the beginning, what we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes, what we have looked at and touched with our hands, concerning the word of life — this life was revealed, and we have seen it and testify to it, and declare to you the eternal life that was with the Father and was revealed to us — we declare to you what we have seen and heard so that you also may have fellowship with us; and truly our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ. We are writing these things so that our joy may be complete.
This is the message we have heard from him and proclaim to you, that God is light and in God there is no darkness at all. When we say that we have fellowship with God while we are walking in darkness, we lie and do not do what is true; but when we walk in the light as God indeed is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, God’s Son, cleanses us from all sin. When we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. When we confess our sins, the One who is faithful and just will forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness. When we say that we have not sinned, we make God a liar, and the word is not in us.
My little children, I am writing these things to you so that you may not sin. But if anyone does sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous; and he is the atoning sacrifice for our sins, and not for ours only but also for the sins of the whole world.
So, it is true that faith really matters here in Fox Hill, Wisconsin, my hometown. It’s been really quiet this past week and that’s pretty much how everyone wants it to be just about now – quiet, slow, all right, downright depressing.
The days have reflected the mood of my Wisconsin folk, rather dark and drizzly. After the winter we’ve had in Wisconsin, it takes pretty much one solid week of sunshine for it to really feel like Spring. And if that doesn’t happen, Spring is only a dream to be hoped for but never grasped and that is a depressing reality. The months of April and May can be that way sometimes. Little Trina Nordstrom, with all the enthusiasm of a ten year old, tried to make things better. She skipped through town singing, “April showers bring May flowers!” Such youthful optimism; until she ran into her great uncle George Nordstrom, one of our Scandinavian bachelor farmers; not the jolliest of species in Fox Hill. “Ah, Tina,” he retorted, “but dontcha know what May flowers bring?” She had heard this joke before, so she was ready for it, “Pilgrims!” she shouted with delight. “Nonsense!” her great uncle snapped back, it’s allergies.”
I think my hometown is one of the few places that goes out of its way to even depress a ten year old. Even a solid week of sunshine is going to have its work cut out for it. Even Easter this year didn’t work. It was poorly planned: too early in the month to get its point across and people just weren’t in the mood. It takes a lot more than candles and lilies and stained glass windows to make Easter special. Any meager Alleluias at Fox Hill Lutheran Church kind of lacked gumption.
Speaking of a lack of gumption, Pastor David Martin, pastor of Fox Hill Lutheran Church, received a phone call from Lyle Bartlett at the post office. “I thought I ought to let you know that the church hasn’t paid its box rent for the year yet,” Lyle firmly declared. “Oh my,” replied Pastor Martin, “I’ll speak with Mel Nelson immediately (He’s the treasurer of the church council, dontcha know) to straighten this out.” It seemed to the pastor a rather minor matter.
But Lyle wouldn’t back down, “You don’t think I’m making this up, do you? I ain’t no liar!”
“No, of course not, Mr. Bartlett,” countered the pastor, “It’s just that…”
“I got it right before my eyes in black and white,” Lyle ranted on, “and ain’t nothing written in for Fox Hill Lutheran Church. Now I don’t normally have any difficulty extending credit to the church, but I’ve got to see to the business of the United States Postal Service too, dontcha know!” (Serving in the 23rd Unit of the Postal Service, APO, NY during World War II had made Mr. Bartlett quite the patriot.) “And you would think,” he continued, ”the church would want to set a good example for the rest of the community and not shirk its responsibilities like everybody else does.” Pastor Martin felt like his head was being bitten off by a wild dog.
“I said I would check into it!” Pastor Martin slammed down the phone. While the days may be getting longer, people’s nerves are getting shorter around Fox Hill.
Dale Colburn had gotten to the end of his with his kids. The Colburn twins, Diane and Denise, both just turned 14, had friends over for what Dale kept calling “a pajama party.” And the twins kept responding, “Oh, Dad!” When he and his wife, Debbie, sent the girls to bed at midnight, he figured they had survived it all fairly well. At 2:00am. he awoke, thinking he had to go to the bathroom, only to realize it was really the chatter and laughing at the other end of the house which woke him. Storming down the hall, he prepared his speech that there is a difference between and over night and an all-nighter, and they had school the next day and they all had better get to sleep. The clanging of cans startled both him and the girls as he swung open the door. And there he found beer cans. The twins were in shock as was Dale. “You’re grounded,” was all he could get out, no – allow out of his mouth.
The next morning Diane and Denise tried all the “I’m sorrys” and “We’ll never do it agains” in their repertoire, but Dale was unmoved. Beyond disappointed, was devastated.
It was a bird that had devastated Judy Martin, the pastor’s wife. A robin – a dead robin. She had been watching for robins for as long as she thought it should be Spring. And it’s not that she didn’t see any, but it had become a compulsion for her – like Spring’s arrival was dependent upon her seeing and counting every robin there was and she hadn’t yet reached the magic number, when she came upon the dead one in her front yard. Might that very one have been the last one she needed? And now, there would be no Spring! Had she somehow failed? If she had seen the robin just the day before might it still be alive today? Was she somehow responsible for its death? Had she, by her inattention and neglect, harmed another living creature and upset the balance of nature? Had she single handedly brought about the death of unborn Spring?
Her husband had little sympathy for her philosophical plight. He had been ministering to the Anderson family all Tuesday night as they posted vigil at the bedside of 104 year old Mabel Anderson, the family matriarch. Just about at the time that Dale Colburn was at a loss for words of his twins’ behavior, Pastor Martin didn’t quite know what to say at Mabel’s last labored breath. He led the family in a recitation of the 23rd Psalm and felt the experience of walking through the valley of the shadow of death. But the valley was a little longer than he expected. Each Anderson family member, by then in tears, began to recount all the things he or she had ever done to offend or injure Auntie Mabel, as if taking back that event or remark would carry her beyond her 104 years. At Friday’s funeral service, he preached about her long and gracious life. And while everybody seemed to appreciate it, he knew he had missed the mark and didn’t really answer the concerns of their own guilt, grief and loss.
Canceled check in hand, Pastor Martin marched to the Post Office on Saturday morning. Here was proof that the church had paid the box rent and he would demand an apology from Mr. Bartlett. Confronted with indisputable evidence, Mr. Bartlett whimpered like a little puppy, “I am so sorry. It must have been a bookkeeping error, not that it’s any excuse.” “Oh, that’s OK,” said the Pastor.
Lyle continued, “How could I have possibly doubted the goodness and punctuality of the church? Can you ever forgive me?”
“Forget about it,” replied Pastor Martin.
“How can I forget?” continued Lyle, “I accused you. I insulted you. I know how angry I was and I know that’s a sin.”
“it’s all right,” assured Pastor Martin, “It was an honest mistake.”
“I take full responsibility for this,” asserted Lyle, “I personally will see to it that this never happens again. I’m so embarrassed. I’m so ashamed. I’m so sorry.”
Again, at a loss for words, and reacting only out of divine call, Pastor Martin quieted Lyle down, looked him in the eye and spoke in full authority, “Mr. Bartlett, I forgive you.” And quite suddenly, Lyle smiled a smile of gratitude. Never before had Pastor Martin felt so… well, pastoral.
But, the feeling soon passed. All of this helps to explain why it was that on Sunday morning at 10:15am. at the start of the worship service, the Pastor stood before the people of Fox Hill Lutheran with no sermon prepared: a pastor’s ultimate fear of being at a loss for words. Not that he was scared about it. The Lutherans in Fox Hill have never expected a doctoral dissertation or a dramatic presentation from the weekly sermon and many times Pastor Martin has sounded ill-prepared, even when he wasn’t. He has preached sermons before when he had absolutely no idea himself what he was talking about. He would certainly be able to do that again.
Maybe he would preach on the Epistle lesson from 1 John: My little children, I am writing these things to you so that you may not sin. But if anyone does sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous; and he is the atoning sacrifice for our sins, and not for ours only but also for the sins of the whole world. Because he did feel guilty, guilty that he hadn’t done his whole job. Guilty that he had failed in his responsibility. He had been awfully busy (it’s not like Sunday is his only day of work!) but that, he admitted, was no excuse. Standing before the Fox Hill congregation, he led them in the service of confession. There sat George Nordstrom with a scowl that could depress a ten year old. There sat the Colburn twins like fallen angels doing perfect penance next to a disappointed father. There sat the Anderson family, filling two entire pews, still sobbing, unwilling to let go of their grief. There sat his own wife, the robin killer, the murderer of Spring. And there he stood, the unprepared pastor, speaking, “When we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us. But whenever we confess our sins, God who is faithful and just, will forgive our sins.”
As they all knelt for silent, personal confession, Pastor Martin’s conscience screamed out, “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! What can I do for you all to forgive me?”
Pastor Martin rose to address the congregation with words of absolution, but it was not their pastor standing before the people of Fox Hill Lutheran. He was really still with them, still kneeling in confession when he spoke these words: “Almighty God, in divine mercy, has given Jesus to die for us and, for his sake, forgives us all our sins. As a called and ordained minister of the Church of Jesus Christ and by his authority, I declare to you the entire forgiveness of all your sins.” Forgives us ALL, our sins. Forgives us, ALL our sins.
And he looked up and there stood Kyle Bartlett, still smiling, and a gracious smile cracked the penitential lips of Pastor Martin; and rays of warm, Spring sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows of Fox Hill Lutheran Church.
And that’s the Good News from Fox Hill, Wisconsin, where faith really matters for every single man, woman, and child; oh, and the married ones too. Amen.

INTRODUCTION

Good afternoon and welcome everyone to Good News at Noon from Good Samaritan Lutheran Church. It’s just after 3pm. here in Spencertown, NY and just after 2pm. in Fox Hill, Wisconsin, my hometown. Eventually, I hope to make sense out of that for you.

I’m Pastor Jim Slater, a snowbird at Good Sam. Many of you may know my wife, Christa, and I from our winters with you in Las Vegas. I offered to relieve Pastor Don and Pastor Scott of having to be responsible for every day of the Good News at Noon. So, since I was already helping out on Thursdays, Tommi Garza made me an administrator for the church’s Facebook page and now I can broadcast directly from New York and the pastors are free to do other pastoral duties.

I also offered to share my collection of preaching stories for every Thursday edition of the Good News at Noon. The series will be known at The Good News at 2 from Fox Hill. Today, I’ll take the time to explain that.

My first call as a pastor, over 40 years ago, was to two small congregations two hours North of Syracuse, NY in the Thousand Islands region. At that time and at that remote location, you only got TV by antenna and with that, only three stations: CBS, PBS (so my two daughters grew up on Bert & Ernie), and CBC, the Canadian Broadcasting Company (so I became a fan of curling)! Needless to say, entertainment was limited.

On Saturday nights, Christa and I would actually listen to a radio show on National Public Radio. Garrison Keillor was the host of a radio program called “A Prairie Home Companion” and my favorite part of the show was his monologue entitled “The News from Lake Wobegon.” Maybe some of you from the upper Midwest will remember that.

I was always so impressed with his mesmerizing delivery, his story telling skills and often I found it downright inspirational.

The last Sunday of the church year liturgical calendar is called Christ the King Sunday, usually at the end of November. I’ll share with you an assigned Bible text for that day.

Second Reading: Ephesians 1:15-23

I have heard of your faith in the Lord Jesus and your love toward all the saints, and for this reason I do not cease to give thanks for you as I remember you in my prayers. I pray that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give you a spirit of wisdom and revelation as you come to know him, so that, with the eyes of your heart enlightened, you may know what is the hope to which he has called you, what are the riches of his glorious inheritance among the saints, and what is the immeasurable greatness of his power for us who believe, according to the working of his great power. God put this power to work in Christ when he raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly places, far above all rule and authority and power and dominion, and above every name that is named, not only in this age but also in the age to come. And he has put all things under his feet and has made him the head over all things for the church, which is his body, the fullness of him who fills all in all.

In this passage, God is praised for revealing ultimate divine power in raising Jesus from the dead as the king of the world. The resurrected, exalted Christ is Lord of both the church and the entire universe, now and in the age to come.

Now, I was finding that particular Sunday especially difficult to preach on. After 3 years of ministry I had used up all my king illustrations and people found the concept of king a hard one to identify with. So I had struggled all week with a sermon for that Sunday and was not at all pleased with what I had written. But by Saturday night, that was the best I could do. I hate preaching a sermon that even I don’t like!

That Saturday night, during the Good News from Lake Wobegon, Garrison Keillor told the story of a teen aged boy from Lake Wobegon who was kind of an outcast; no friends at school, mean and uncaring parents at home. His favorite dream was to wish that he were royalty and that all people would have to respect him and do whatever he said. But every morning he would wake up in the same decrepit house and be bullied at school by the same kids and nothing had changed.

But one day, he received a letter in the mail with odd looking stamps on it. He opened it up to find that it was official correspondence from Scotland that he had been traced as a direct descendent of the lost kings of Scotland. Now it did not include any estate or kingdom. There was no financial value to it. There was only a document that he was officially of royal descent. And that was all it took to completely change his outlook on life. His life now had value and meaning that no thing and no body would be able to deny.

I went to bed that night with my horrible sermon and that wonderful story in my head.

The next morning I hurried to shower and get dressed for church. The first service was at the smaller church out in the country, about seven miles from the town church and parsonage. When I arrived at the little church I realized that I had left my sermon sitting on my office desk back in town. I was going to have to “wing” it.

So, when it was time for the sermon, I began, “Well, it has been a quiet week in Lake Wobegon, Minnesota, my hometown…” and retold Keillor’s story from the point of view that, by virtue of our baptism, we are all descendants of royalty, sons and daughters of our Lord and Savior, Jesus, Christ the King. Well, the sermon was so well received that when I got back for the second service at the town church, I left that lousy sermon on my desk and told the Lake Wobegon story instead.

That was the beginning of 40 years of occasional Lake Wobegon sermons whenever the inspiration would hit me, maybe two or three times a year. I’ve collected them all and had my own dream of being able to share them in retirement. I always called them “the book I would never write.” I thought Good News at Noon from Good Sam might be the perfect opportunity to share them, and Pastors Don and Scott agreed.

Now, for copyright legalities and publishing on Facebook, I’m going to have to change some names and places and famous phrases, but I hope to give full honor and respect to the story-telling of Garrison Keillor and the message of the Gospel of Jesus Christ and I trust you will be able to catch a glimpse of that and maybe even enjoy the stories.

So, please join me for the Good News at 2pm. from Fox Hill, Wisconsin as I broadcast at 3pm. from Spencertown, NY for all the friends of Good Samaritan to be able to see and hear on the Good News at Noon from Good Sam.

I hope that makes sense. Let us pray.

On the Road to Emmaus

My cousin, Mark, is about 15 years younger than I am. With me living in Upstate NY and him living in New Mexico, we hadn’t see each other much and I missed most of his growing up. One Sunday morning, my parents made a surprise visit from their home in New Jersey and entered church with a young man I didn’t recognize who had been visiting them. When I asked who it was, I was embarrassed to find out it was my cousin who happened to be my own godchild. I didn’t recognize him because I never expected to see him in that context.
So also I have often said hello to people at the grocery store, only to be met with blank stares. “It’s Pastor Jim,” I would add. Then they, in shock and embarrassment, would say, “Oh, Pastor, I didn’t recognize you with your clothes on.” By that, they meant that they were used to seeing me in collar and robes in church and not out shopping in flannel shirt and jeans.
I share those stories as an introduction to the text for today, Luke 24: 13-16, 28-35
Now on that same day when Jesus had appeared to Mary Magdalene, two disciples were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, and talking with each other about all these things that had happened. While they were talking and discussing, Jesus himself came near and went with them, but their eyes were kept from recognizing him.
  As they came near the village to which they were going, he walked ahead as if he were going on. But they urged him strongly, saying, “Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over.” So he went in to stay with them. When he was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him; and he vanished from their sight. They said to each other, “Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?” That same hour they got up and returned to Jerusalem; and they found the eleven and their companions gathered together. They were saying, “The Lord has risen indeed, and he has appeared to Simon!” Then they told what had happened on the road, and how he had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread.
Today’s scripture story is found only in the Gospel of Luke. It is an often overlooked part of the Easter narrative for that reason. But since my baptism occurred at Emmaus Lutheran Church in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, I have always taken a particular interest in this event on the very day of the resurrection of Jesus. Two disciples are walking on their way from Jerusalem to the village of Emmaus, about 7 miles west. Together they were trying to make sense of everything that had taken place over the last three days. Jesus, their rabbi, had been arrested, crucified and buried in a tomb. Their hopes that Jesus would be the one to redeem Israel were now destroyed. But just that morning, several women had reported the tomb of Jesus empty and now they were totally amazed and confused, thrilled and scared, wondering what this all meant. They are met on the way by an apparent stranger who listens to their story and then proceeds to unfold all of the scriptural evidence of why it was necessary for the one they knew as Jesus to suffer and die and rise again on the third day.
Disciples of Jesus and they don’t know to whom they are speaking! How could that be? Well, there was just no way they would have ever expected Jesus to be walking and talking with them. He had died a gruesome death! His body was missing!  Why would Jesus be going to Emmaus? In this context, Jesus was the last person they expected to see that day.
It had happened before, earlier that Easter morning, when Mary Magdalene believe she was speaking at the empty tomb with the caretaker of the garden. Jesus was again the last person she expected to see. Do you remember how Mary came to know that it was indeed Jesus? Yes, he called Mary by name. Remember how Jesus had said in John’s Gospel (10: 1-3), “Amen, Amen, I say to you, … whoever enters by the door of the sheepfold is the true shepherd … the sheep hear his voice, and he calls his own sheep by name and leads them out.”
How do you recognize Jesus in your travels? How is the presence of Jesus made real in your life? I am reminded of a favorite camp song that we would often use as a creedal statement in our closing worship service.

Chorus: Have you seen Jesus, my Lord? He’s here in plain view. Take a look, open your eyes, He’ll show it to you.
Verse 1: Have you ever stood at the ocean with the white foam at your feet; Felt the endless thundering motion? Then I say, you’ve seen Jesus, my Lord.
Verse 2: Have you ever stood at the sunset with the sky mellowing red; Seen the clouds suspended like feathers? Then I say, you’ve seen Jesus, my Lord.
Verse 3: Have you ever stood at the cross with the man hanging in pain; Seen the look of love in His eyes? Then I say, you’ve seen Jesus, my Lord.
Verse 4: Have you ever stood in the family with the Lord there in your midst; Seen the face of Christ in your partner? Then I say, you’ve seen Jesus, my Lord.
Chorus: Have you seen Jesus, my Lord? He’s here in plain view. Take a look, open your eyes, He’ll show it to you.

Now that song may express many meaningful ways to experience the presence of Jesus: pounding ocean waves, beautiful sunsets, a Christus Victor crucifix, a fellow worshiper; but the Emmaus disciples had something even more powerful and even more definitive and sure. They invite Jesus to dine with them as the sun grew dim. At table, Jesus took the bread, blessed it, and gave it to them. Those sound like the very words we use for the sacrament of Holy Communion. They are words that fit the eucharistic formula. And their eyes were opened and they recognized Jesus! And they said to each other, “Didn’t our hearts burn within us as he talked with us on the road, as he opened to us the scriptures!”
We believe that Word and Sacrament are the Means of Grace God gives us to be able to experience the presence of Jesus. Word and Sacrament form the very definition of our worship. Many churches today are finding new and creative ways to be able to share the Word of God: live-streaming worship, zoom meetings, pre-recorded productions on platforms like FaceBook and YouTube. But all too many are stuck in the thought of no longer being able to share communion in the ways of the past. And so they impose a “fast” from the meal of God’s grace at a time when we need to see Jesus more than ever. I am so grateful that we, at Good Samaritan, have pastors and a congregation that believe that the meal of Holy Communion can be shared in new ways as well. The virtual community is still our community. Because, along with the Emmaus disciples, I need, and I hope you need also, Word and Sacrament, the staples of our worship, to open our eyes to the promised presence of Jesus. So that, as we journey down the road of life, we recognize Jesus to be walking beside us all the way, in our fear and confusion, and in our joy and thanksgiving.
I would like to close with a song used in worship last Sunday at Grace Lutheran Church in Naugatuck, CT. This song by Paul Baloche features the singing of Erik Krueger and Deborah Diamante. And Debbie just happens to be my daughter.

Open the eyes of my heart, Lord, Open the eyes of my heart
I want to see You, I want to see You

To see you high and lifted up, Shining in the light of Your glory
Pour out Your power and love As we sing holy, holy, holy

I want to see You

May your hearts burn as you hear God’s Word and may your eyes be opened every time Jesus breaks the bread in new and wonderful ways. Amen.

John 20: 24-29
But Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, "We have seen the Lord." But he said to them, "Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe."
A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, "Peace be with you." Then he said to Thomas, "Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe." Thomas answered him, "My Lord and my God!" Jesus said to him, "Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe."
We have now passed the Sunday after Easter. Just like the disciples of Jesus we have had to worship in our own rooms behind locked doors of fear, confusion and self-imposed isolation. Those first disciples feared for their lives, believing that the authorities who crucified Jesus would be now hunting down his followers. We have been fearful for our lives also, if not from the death that can be caused by COVID-19, then by death from poverty due to our nation’s economic shut-down.
But one disciple in particular has an Easter story that can be inspirational and comforting for us in our time. That disciple’s name is Thomas, also known as Didymus, the Twin. You may not have heard of that alternative name for him because all too often we like to refer to him instead as “Doubting Thomas.” Today, I wish to defend him and expunge that negative moniker from our impression of him.
This story, as recorder in the Gospel of John, begins on the evening of that first Easter day. It is possible that ten of Jesus’ disciples were gathered in a closed up room. Their grief over the crucifixion death of Jesus had been replaced by confusing but hopeful joy that Jesus had risen from the dead.  Mary Magdalene had reported the tomb of Jesus as being empty. Peter and John had confirmed the good news, but they were still filled with doubts and fears.
Two of the disciples were absent. Matthew and Luke report the death of Judas as he was filled with remorse and guilt. But we are also told that Thomas was not there, without any excuse given. Was he not aware of the day’s events? Had he been out of town? Was he practicing social distancing from the other disciples? Was he too afraid to even join them? Or did he just plain not believe any of it? We’ll never know. But the ten gathered experienced the presence of the Risen Lord Jesus who blessed them with peace (shalom) and the forgiving gift of the Holy Spirit.
Then, eight days later, again gathered on the evening of the first day of the week, it was the first and last time that there were more gathered for worship on the Sunday after Easter than on Easter Day itself! Because this time, Thomas was with them. He couldn’t believe what the other disciples had told him. He demanded proof for a claim so inconceivable. Proof of death: nail holes and pierced side; and proof of resurrection: to be able to see and to touch Jesus.
Then Jesus is present as before in words of peace and in offered physical proof, saying to Thomas, “Do not be faithless, but be faithful.” Did you hear in that any accusation of doubt? I didn’t!
Jesus makes the distinction between being without faith and being full of faith and trust. That is to say that, doubt is not the opposite of faith. The opposite of doubt is certainty. Faith is a gift of the Holy Spirit, designated in our baptism. It is a gift you might deny, but you can never refuse because it is a gift of God, once given, that can never be taken away. Under the overall umbrella of our faith, we all wrestle with what it is we believe and what it is we question and challenge. And that is a healthy process. How many times have I shared this thought with people who are ashamed of their doubts, who then find relief and comfort in being assured that the mustard seed of faith remains planted and growing in their hearts and soul!
So why the confusion over faith and belief? Most English translations of the Bible use them interchangeably, and in many ways they were. In the Greek, the noun pistis means faith, and the verb pisteo means to have faith. Even up to the time of the Reformation, Martin Luther would speak of believing with your heart. That is faith. But today, the meaning of belief has changed. We don’t believe with our hearts, we believe with our minds. We gather data, evidence, facts and then decide what we do and don’t believe.
Nowhere in the Gospel text are we told that Thomas actually did put his finger in the holes of the nails or place his hand in the wounded side of Jesus. He didn’t have to. He did not require the proof he thought he did. In fact, his faith response is the climax of John’s Gospel. Thomas declares, “My Lord and my God!” That is to say he recognized Jesus to be Yahweh, the Lord our God. Other statements about who Jesus truly is had come close: Rabbi, Messiah, Son of God, but none as complete in truth as Faithful Thomas saying, “My Lord and my God!”
But wait! There’s more. Jesus then questions Thomas, “Have you come to faith because of the blessing of being able to see me? How blissed are those who have not seen and yet have faith!” Jesus is talking about us, you and me, and sharing with us a beatitude, a powerful blessing. What I like to call a blissing. How blissed are we to be able to live each day in the blessing of faith, no matter what it is we have to deal with in our every day lives. The revelation of Faithful Thomas, not Doubting Thomas, resides in every Tom, Dick, and Harry and in every Susan, Karen and Mary.
So we gather as imperfect, even at times doubting, disciples on every first day of the week to be filled with the peace of Jesus, to be inspired and renewed by the Holy Spirit of God’s forgiveness, and to praise the crucified and risen Jesus as Thomas did: “My Lord and my God!”

Romans 8:22-27
We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now; and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies. For in hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.
Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. And God, who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God.
I’d like to tell you a story about Mina. Participants in the Thursday morning Bible study group may recognize it, but I don’t think you’ll mind hearing it again in the context of the state of God’s creation today.
As a young pastor over 40 years ago, one of my first congregational shut-ins was an elderly woman named Mina. Mina lived in what was then called an adult home, the home of a caretaker of those who no longer could live on their own. Mina’s husband had died long ago and her children had all moved far away from home. And Mina had mobility issues. One would be tempted to feel sorry for all the blessings of her life that were slowly being taken away from her. But I quickly learned in my monthly communion visits with her that she still possessed a sharp and quick mind.
Mina turned out to be my congregational historian. She was an expert on the century farms in the county and had a long history with St. Paul’s Lutheran Church. If I needed background information on church families or individuals, Mina was my go to person.
After a few years, even her ability to live semi-independently was taken away from her and she was moved to a nursing home in Ogdensburg, NY, some 45 minutes away. I would still visit her regularly and she would carry on interesting conversations with me and you would never know she felt any worse for having lost so much.
Then one day I received a message that Mina had suffered a stroke and had been taken to the Ogdensburg hospital. In my limited experience, both with illness and as a pastor, I had no idea what it meant for her to have had a stroke. But I hopped into the car and drove the 45 minutes up to the hospital.
Mina was in a private room. I remember it being dark in the room and her bed was almost in the exact center of the room. I walked up to her bed, took Mina’s hand, and said, “Hello, Mina, it’s Pastor Jim.”
She gave me no reply. Now I was wearing a clerical collar. I thought it was pretty obvious what I was and who I was. So I repeated a bit louder, “Hello, Mina, it’s Pastor Jim.” Nothing. I wondered if she was just scared. Her eyes had a frightened look to them. So I tried again, “Mina, you are in the hospital. Can you tell me what happened?” Still no response; not even movement in her lips.
I wondered why she didn’t want to talk with me. Was she angry at me? Was she angry at God? Now please understand, this was my first experience ever with a stroke patient. I was clueless.
My initial thought was to feel sorry for her. To actually pity her. Now it seemed everything had been taken away from her: her speech and her love of conversation, her mind and her keen insights. But even that concern was overcome by a feeling of frustration. After all, I had driven 45 minutes to see her and she wouldn’t even talk to me! How could I offer any kind of pastoral care?
In total resignation, I said, “OK Mina, I’m going to say a prayer and I will end with The Lord’s Prayer and you are welcome to join me. So I offered a prayer with words that sounded meaningless and trite to me. I just wanted this to be over. But when I started, “Our Father, who art in heaven,” Mina joined in, speaking in full voice even up to the “forever and ever, Amen.”
I was flabbergasted! Now I understand more fully how a stroke works. My mother-in-law lived with us for ten years when she had a stroke. I know that she could not think to speak, but there were certain phrases, prayers and songs, so embedded in her memory that she was able to recite them without hesitation.
As was true for all my visits with Mina, I think I got more out of them than she did. Certainly in this last visit, her grasping onto the words of the Lord’s Prayer made a profound impact on my life and ministry.
So much had been taken away from her, but not everything. Still deep in the heart and soul of Mina were the comforting words of her faith. She may not have known what to say or have been able to say it, but the Spirit of God was ready to intercede on her behalf.
Lord, Speak to Us, That We May Speak

1 Lord, speak to us, that we may speak
in living echoes of your tone;
as you have sought, so let us seek
your straying children, lost and lone.

2 Oh, lead us, Lord, that we may lead
the wand'ring and the wav'ring feet;
oh, feed us, Lord, that we may feed
your hung'ring ones with manna sweet.

3 Oh, teach us, Lord, that we may teach
the precious truths which you impart;
and wing our words, that they may reach
the hidden depths of many a heart.

4 Oh, fill us with your fullness, Lord,
until our very hearts o'erflow
in kindling thought and glowing word,
your love to tell, your praise to show.
Many of us today are experiencing grief and sadness and loss, the loss of personal freedom to go where you want and do what you want to do, the loss of time with family and friends due to stay-at-home orders, the loss of jobs and the income necessary for making ends meet, the loss of joy as worry and anxiety take over, the loss of certainty that everything will be all right, the loss of confidence in those who run our nation’s state’s and community’s response, the loss of a church family with whom to pass a sign of peace, the loss of health if afflicted with the coronavirus and more sadly the loss of bedside visitors, and finally those who have actually lost their life and the families who have lost loved ones.
Give thanks to God that you have not lost your faith, in fact, that you cannot lose your faith because it has been so deeply embedded in you. At that moment when you think it is all gone, that you have nothing left anymore, nothing left to say, nothing left to do, not even anything left to pray, that the Spirit of God intercedes for you in sighs that reach down to the depths of your soul. Have you had prayers like that? I know I have.
Maybe my story about Mina may help, or it may just seem meaningless and trite to you. Either way, join me in a prayer that speaks to all our needs and all our hopes, especially at a time such as this, the prayer Jesus taught us, not out of frustration and resignation, but out of the faith down in the depths of our soul- Our Father…….