Jesus, is that you?

Dear Friends,

On Wednesday, a telemarketer called the church office, offering a new service for pastors called pastors.ai. Our office manager wasn’t impressed, but forwarded the information to me for my amusement. This company offers to “elevate your pastor’s sermon . . . for your church and beyond.”

Here’s how it works. We would forward a few recorded examples of my preaching. The company would use those examples to craft additional resources that would sound like me—live chat, devotional materials, discussion questions, summaries, reels and clips. For an extra fee, pastors.ai would even write a sermon for me. What’s not to like?

This enticing offer came on the same day that a friend forwarded an AI generated political ad. The fake promotional video put words in the mouths of the leading presidential candidates in frighteningly convincing ways. If I hadn’t known better, I might have thought it was real. (Except that one candidate endorsed the other, and we know that would never happen.)

Of course, we are all also familiar with the decade-old Granny Scam—a frantic voice on the phone, claiming, convincingly, that your grandchild needs immediate assistance. It’s sobering that normally-not-gullible people fall for it. But, who could resist the desperate voice of a loved one?

This Sunday, the fourth Sunday of Easter, is often called Good Shepherd Sunday, because in each of the three lectionary years we read a portion of John 10 about Jesus, the Good Shepherd. (Note, Jesus is not good as in “moral,” but good as in “true, proper.”) Part of the chapter imagines Jesus a gate, another casts him as a shepherd, and a third names him “the voice.” Jesus asserts that his is the only trustworthy voice by which his sheep know and trust him.

The other voices of which Jesus warned his 1^st century disciples were the voices of faux prophets, self-promoting priests, too-good-to-be-true healers. Fleecing the faithful is, apparently, a perennial pursuit. But Jesus’ followers had it easy. I doubt Jesus himself could  have imagined the difficulty we face with discerning a true voice from a generated one, a real need from a manufactured one, a trustworthy source from a scam.

If, as PT Barnum is credited with saying, “There’s a sucker born every minute,” we are being suckered in increasingly dangerous and divisive ways by the nanosecond. (Fun fact, it is believed that PT Barnum never made that comment. Did someone put words in his mouth, as well?)

Please join us Sunday, gathered with sheep who listen for the voice of the True and Proper Shepherd. Here’s the schedule:

Children’s Music, 9:30 a.m.

Godly Play and Godly Play+ at 10 a.m.

Worship at 10 a.m.

Coffee Hour following

A few weeks ago, I was in a meeting with people I didn’t know, gathered around a common task. As we waited for the meeting to start, one of the participants announced, unprompted, “No one is starving in Gaza. I’ve seen the pictures. No one there is hungry. Its all a lie.” No one spoke. We were surprised at the outburst, confused about the impetus, shocked at the lack of sensitivity. When another person opened their mouth to speak, the speaker cut them off, “Don’t start with me. I get all my news from name of news source. They’re the only ones who tell the truth!”

We all pick and choose the voices to which we listen. We place our trust in a variety of  individuals and organizations. In many cases, those choices are inconsequential. But in other cases, when lives are at stake, when lies are blatant, those choices can be deadly. How are we to sort among the three voices heard in Sunday’s gospel: the bleating hired hands who flee at the first sign of trouble, the snarling wolves who only snatch and scatter, and the trustworthy shepherd whose life is given for the sheep?

I was not tempted; I am not going to subscribe to pastors.ai. Why would I relinquish my favorite part of this work—words—to an algorithm? Instead, I strive to listen carefully for the voice of my shepherd, and to faithfully convey what I hear. And when I hear or say it wrong, I am, like a sheep, willing to be herded down a better path, to listen again for a trustworthy voice.

See you Sunday,

Pastor JoAnn Post

Wow. And. Wow.

Dear Friends,

I was at a lunch meeting on the University of Chicago campus during Monday’s solar eclipse. My lunch companions and I abandoned our meals half-eaten to stand in the street as the peak arrived, sharing viewing glasses like teenagers sharing a joint. We were not alone. Students in jeans. Suits in suits. Dish washers in aprons and waiters in khakis. Old and young, rich and poor, speaking multiple languages, we all gazed heavenward.

Though not as stunning as if we had been in the path of totality, a 94% solar eclipse is something to behold. And except for repeating, “Wow. Wow. Wow,” I felt no need to assign meaning to the event. Others were not so circumspect. Some announced that the eclipse provided irrefutable evidence of God. Some decided it was an encrypted message from the heavens. Some regarded the eclipse a grand science experiment. A politician claimed it was a sign that God agreed with their politics. Friends from Maine to Kentucky interpreted the totality with photos and emojis. I was happy just to see it. (Join me in Iceland in 2026 for the next one?)

We all react differently to unexpected events. And we can’t know until the moon eclipses the sun, or harsh reality eclipses our secret hopes how we will respond.

The Third Sunday of Easter always finds the resurrected Jesus eating. (Luke 24.36b-48) This year, we read Luke’s account of his post-resurrection appearance to the disciples Easter evening and his question, “Have you anything here to eat?” Opinions differ about Jesus’ intent. Was he hungry after three days in the ground? Was he making a point about the fact that his resurrected body was a real body?  

Witness reactions to the resurrection of Jesus were as varied as our reactions to the eclipse. And, oddly enough, the gospel writers report the reactions in contrasting pairs (“and” not “or”): Matthew reports Fear and Great Joy; Mark reports Trauma and Ecstasy; Luke reports Terror and Startle; John reports Doubt and Belief.  What would we have done or said had a tomb meant to hold a dead body been found empty, had a dead man knocked on our door, had a “ghost” put their feet under our supper table? Hard to say. We weren’t there.

As I mentioned last week in this space, trolls attempted to mute the wonder of the empty tomb—grave robbers, conspiracy theories, cannibalistic rituals. Though these nay-sayers hoped to rob the resurrection of its potency, their objections served only to demonstrate how terrified they were that maybe, just maybe, Jesus had been raised from death. They used every tool in their toolkit to refute that possibility. Clearly, it didn’t work. Then or now.

Please join us Sunday as we join Jesus at the Easter table. (Sorry, no broiled fish on the menu.)

Children’s Music, 9:30 a.m.

Godly Play and Godly Play+, 10 a.m.

Worship, 10 a.m.

Coffee Hour following

I have two other bits of good news to share.

We are delighted to welcome the Chicago Gay Men’s Chorus to our One Tree Many Branches concert series. The concert is Saturday at 4:30 p.m.; the doors will open at 4. We are expecting  a robust crowd, so there will be no dibs on seats. A reception will follow. The concert is free and open to the public.

We have concluded our Lent Challenge with Habitat for Humanity of Lake County. Thank you for exceeding our $10,000 goal, by donating $14,940. We still have openings for our Unity Build in August. Because of you, a Lake County family will soon have both house and home.

Of the range of reactions to Monday’s eclipse, one particular reaction still makes me laugh. Our band of eclipse watchers expanded and contracted over time; we just kept passing the glasses around so all could see. Near the peak of the eclipse, a young woman walked by, and I invited her as I had invited countless others, “Take a look!” I handed her a pair of glasses and, rather than peering into the sky and handing them back, she said, “Thanks,” shoved them in her jacket pocket and kept on walking. Was she oblivious to the eclipse? Had her parents not taught her to share? I thought about chasing her down for my glasses, but decided against it. Her nonchalance in the face of celestial magic was not going to dampen my joy.

As we gather with Easter joy, we are mindful that others’ lives are rocked, not by joy, but by terror. We pray for peace in theaters of war—Ukraine and Russia, Israel and Gaza, internal conflicts in Columbia and Syria. We pray nourishment for the starving in Gaza and DRC (Democratic Republic of Congo). We pray water for the parched in Bahrain and Qatar. We pray shelter for refugees and migrants across the globe. We remember, with horror, the Rwandan genocide thirty years ago. We long for that day when the world’s daily distress will be replaced by resurrection wonder.

None of us can know how we will respond to unexpected events. Fear and Joy? Trauma and Ecstasy? Terror and Startle? Doubt and Belief? Whether the moon obliterates the sun or events annihilate our hopes, whether we witness the empty tomb or only hear about it, we greet both wonder and terror in the company of others.

See you Sunday,

Pastor JoAnn Post

Seeing as Jesus sees

Dear Friends,

I am not usually a consumer of televised sports; I can’t tell a soccer ball from a shuttle cock. But the ISU-LSU NCAA Elite Eight game Monday night lured me like a Cubs fan to a Chicago Dog. What can I say? Iowa. Apparently, I was not alone in my fascination—the game shattered previous viewing records with 16.1 million fans tuned in to the game. ESPN reported it was “the most-watched college basketball game ever on ESPN platforms.” That’s a lot of eyes on the same event.

Here’s what I saw: wildly gifted, deeply committed, physically and mentally powerful young athletes, playing their hearts out for the love of the game. Players sprinted back and forth, covering the length of the court in a few strides, passing and receiving the ball as though it were magnetic. TV commentators were sweaty with excitement—climbing over each other’s words to describe the breakneck action. Passing. Pivoting. Shooting. Saving. Marveling at both the unique skills of each player and their commitment to the team’s success. The game was a joy to watch.

But not everyone saw it that way. Within hours, internet trolls were spewing mean-spirited bile, commentary too vicious to repeat. The next morning, LSU’s star player Angel Reese opened up about the burden of the spotlight: “I’ve been through so much. I’ve seen so much. I’ve been attacked so many times. Death threats. I’ve been sexualized. I’ve been threatened.”

How is it possible for witnesses to the same events to see them so differently? How clouded are the lenses and hearts of those who would rob joy from such a joyful moment?

The Second Sunday of Easter is all about the lenses we wear. The gospel action takes place on two successive Sundays, though on the same court of play. Frightened disciples, worried that Jesus’ murderers might come for them next, huddled in a dimly lit, tightly locked room Easter night. But not all the disciples were there. Thomas was out-and-about. Picking up pizza? Walking the dog? We don’t know. But when he rejoined the others in that shuttered space, Thomas refused to believe what his colleagues had seen. (John 20.19-31)

Though Mary Magdalene had reported a Jesus sighting earlier that day, and Jesus had appeared to the disciples in the locked room, Thomas couldn’t see it. Maybe he just couldn’t go there.

Jesus, ever patient, appeared again the following week. Same room. Same fear. Same crowd. This time, Thomas was there. Jesus was willing to do whatever was needed for Thomas to see him and believe. “Touch the wounds. See the scars,” Jesus offered. “Plunge your hand into the sword slash in my side. Whatever you need, Thomas.”

Finally, eyes clouded by tears, Thomas saw what the others had seen. And Thomas believed. Believed that it was possible for life to overcome death, for light to pierce the darkness, for hope to overwhelm fear. But it took him awhile to see things God’s way.

Jesus then turned his attention to us, we who would be watching. “Blessed are those who have not seen, and yet will come to believe.”

Of course, reports of Jesus’ resurrection were trashed by trolls, as well. They said that disciples had stolen his body to make it look like resurrection. They said he hadn’t really died, and that it had all been a lie. They said that Jesus’ disciples were cannibals, eating human flesh and drinking human blood. Ugly rumors are ancient, it seems.

Which is harder? Seeing and believing, or not seeing and yet believing? And what of those who see and still can’t believe?

Please join us this Sunday, as we further explore the ramifications of the resurrection:

Children’s Music at 9:30 a.m.

Godly Play and Godly Play+ at 10 a.m.

Worship at 10 a.m.

Coffee Hour following

On Sunday, we will also report the results of our Lent Challenge “Seeking Justice for Those Who Have No Home.” If you’ve not yet had a chance to sign-up for the Unity Build with Habitat for Humanity of Lake County, we have a few open spots. Here’s the sign-up information:

Select one of the two work days below. Once you click the “Respond” button at each of the links, you’ll be prompted to create a profile in Habitat’s volunteer database & fill out the digital waiver of liability, in-advance. The total number of people Habitat can host in a day is 12 people, so once all spots are filled up, sign-ups will close.

Wednesday, August 7th:

https://volunteer.habitatlc.org/need/detail/?need_id=920688

Wednesday, August 14th:

https://volunteer.habitatlc.org/need/detail/?need_id=920703

The NCAA championships conclude this weekend, for both the women and men’s teams. As you marvel at the skill and tenacity of these young athletes, take note of the eyes through which you view the action. What will you see? What will you say? Will you believe your eyes or need to be convinced?

Whether watching televised sports or international news or events unfolding in our own lives, Easter invites us to see with the eyes of faith, of hope, of kindness.

See you Sunday. (Go, Iowa!)

Pastor JoAnn Post

The thermostat is set to “honest”

Dear Friends,

On each of the six Sundays in Lent, I opened the “Getting Ready for the Gospel” portion of the liturgy in this way: The season is Lent. The color is purple. The thermostat is set to “honest.”

The season of Lent has ended. The color is no longer purple. But the thermostat setting has not changed. I invite you to join us for the Great Three Days and the Festival of the Resurrection—events that speak honestly of both our situation and our hope.

This evening, the Great Three Days opens with Maundy Thursday worship at 7 p.m. On this night we share the supper Jesus shared with his disciples. We will also offer the opportunity for individual absolution—worshippers will be invited to come forward, kneel and receive forgiveness with the laying on of hands.

Tomorrow evening, we will be at St. James the Less Episcopal Church (550 Sunset Ridge Road, Northfield) for a Good Friday Taizé liturgy at 7 p.m. The combined choirs of St. James the Less, Ascension and Winnetka Presbyterian Church will lead the liturgy. The pastors of the three congregations will lead.

Sunday morning will dawn with the return of “Alleluia!” banners, flowers, choirs and song on the Festival of the Resurrection. We invite you to worship at 8:30 and 10:30 a.m. Easter breakfast will be served between services from 9:15 – 10:15 a.m. The Easter Egg Hunt (with two Easter Bunnies!) will convene on the front lawn at 9:45 a.m. A note: if the weather has been at all damp, our front lawn can be very muddy. Our children might want to bring rain boots as well as their Easter shoes. Children will provide their own Easter baskets.

As you anticipate this, the center of our life together, you will want to be prepared for “honest.” Even the Easter gospel from Mark tells a truth the other gospel writers shade. According to Mark, when women discover Jesus’ tomb empty, and after speaking with a white-robed man who tells them to “Go and tell,” they refuse. Mark’s gospel ends not with “Hurray!” but with a thud: “The women fled the tomb, and they said nothing to anyone because they were afraid.”

We know that Mark’s gospel is not the last word on the matter. If, in fact, witnesses at the tomb told no one what they had learned, we would not be celebrating Jesus’ resurrection. They did tell—eventually. And I think they were right to be afraid—believing that God’s power is greater than all other powers, that God’s love is greater than all other loves is almost too much to believe. But we do. And we tell. Because we are, in all seasons, honest.

Blessed Holy Week and Easter,

Pastor JoAnn Post

Judge not? No, please do!

Dear Friends,

I am a big fan of democracy. I try to never take for granted the gift of the way we govern ourselves in this country. We seek to protect the rights and well-being of all our citizens, and those who come to us for shelter and opportunity. We provide for the common good—roads, schools, defense, and much more. We honor a wide variety of religious, cultural and political expressions. We elect leaders at every level to govern. And this week, I give thanks for our country’s commitment to free and fair elections, and the peaceful transfer of power.

I have always tried to be politically active and aware. I vote. I contribute to candidates and causes. I read across the political spectrum. I listen for ideas that differ from mine. I honor expertise, and try to withhold opinion without information. And this week I added another activity to my support of democracy. You may not have been aware that I was away from the office on Tuesday, working a 15-hour day as an election judge for Northfield Township.

My desire to serve as an election judge was driven by more than noble motives. I felt guilty every time the request for election judges came in my email. (Election judges are always needed, by the way.) And, on an even more base level, I was intrigued by the debunked-but-persistent claims of election fraud in previous elections. I wanted to see the process for myself. Here’s what I learned.

After a three-hour in-person training session, a three-hour on-line training session, a two-hour hands-on practice session, and a two-hour pre-election day precinct setup, I was already convinced of the care with which our elections are conducted. And, after a full day of working with a team of non-partisan judges and technicians, advised by the county clerk’s office, under  the scrutiny of random spot checks from the attorney general’s office, and after welcoming voters of many languages, life circumstances and political persuasions, I can report the following with some confidence. It would require the concerted effort of scores of people of ill will at many levels of government, using “Mission Impossible” levels of skill and subterfuge to affect the outcome of even a single precinct. To alter the outcome of an election on the state or national level?

I am not so naïve as to believe there is no corruption in our political systems, but our election systems are shockingly secure. So, why do rumors of corruption and fraud persist? And, toward what end? Who benefits from false claims of coordinated deception and intentional crime? And why, you ask, is this on my mind today?

As I continue to process Tuesday’s work, I am also processing the week ahead and its ancient experience of political and religious folly. On Passion Sunday, after hearing Mark’s account of Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem, we will turn our ears to the account of his suffering and death.

Jesus’ political reality was significantly different from ours. (Though there are sad similarities in some quarters.)

Though democracy was practiced in the region beginning in the 7^th century BCE., 1^st century Jerusalem was not governed as a democracy. Jerusalem’s ruling classes were riddled with complicity between political and religious leaders, who used spies, false accusations, bribes, corrupt officials and physical abuse to protect their power. Jesus suffered death at the hands of a system that cared nothing for its citizens, but only for holding on to power. His was a senseless death ordered by those who feared the power Jesus wielded—power over the masses and in his claims to be the Son of God.

Please join us Sunday, as we open the door to Holy Week, and consider the gift of Jesus’ saving death. Perhaps, like me, you will be made painfully aware of the dangers of power used for its own sake, and of the even greater power of God. Here’s the plan:

Children’ Music at 9:30 a.m.

Godly Play and Godly Play+ at 10 a.m.

Worship at 10 a.m.—we open with a Palm Procession in Fellowship Hall

Coffee Hour following

Jesus’ Passion according to Mark will be read by a six-voice Readers Choir, accompanied by images on the big screen. It is a moving, interactive opportunity to immerse ourselves in the story of Jesus. We will celebrate Holy Communion, as we do each week. We will also receive an update on our Lent Challenge with Habitat for Humanity of Lake County. (Soon, we’ll be swinging hammers!)

We invite you to return Sunday afternoon for the Holy Week Cantata “Seven Last Words,” by Michael John Trotta. The cantata will be performed by the combined choirs of Ascension and St. James the Less Episcopal Church, with guest singers and instrumentalists. Gentle and haunting, the cantata opens our hearts to the depth of Jesus’ suffering and of God’s love. The concert is at 4:30, and is free and open to the public. The nursery will be staffed. A reception will follow the concert.

Though there is a variety of political beliefs among us at Ascension, I am always grateful that our hearts and minds are occupied, not with our differences, but with our common faith. Jesus lived and died for all people, across time and circumstance. And we are committed to caring for all those for whom Jesus lived and died.

I know many of you will be traveling for spring break this week—we pray safety and refreshment for you. If you are in town this weekend, please join me as we enter the holiest of weeks, honest, hopeful and . . .

Grateful,

Pastor JoAnn Post

Etched and broken hearts

Dear Friends,

Many years ago, the congregation I served hosted a Palestinian dance troop while they were on a U.S. tour. The dancers stayed in our homes, ate at our tables, danced in our sanctuary. Their performance was a wonderful event—artistically, culturally, faithfully. But a week before the performance, we received an anonymous, paranoid warning that the dancers might be terrorists in disguise, attempting to infiltrate our community. We ignored the warning as the hogwash it was. But, given the current crisis in the Middle East, I wonder how the dance troop might be received among us now. If at all. I also wonder if the greater danger would come, not from Palestinian dancers, but from domestic haters.

As is true of many of you, I am deeply troubled by the conflict in Israel. One of the ways I am schooling myself about the issues involved, is to read and listen to people who know the region and the issues. At Christmas, a friend gifted me a copy of “Impossible Takes Longer: 75 Years After Its Creation, Has Israel Fulfilled Its Founders’ Dreams?” (Daniel Gordis, Harper Collins, 2023) The gift tag read, “Blessed Christmas. A disturbing read.” Indeed. I can only read a little at a time, not because it is disturbing, but because the contemporary history of the region is so complex.

As a student of scripture, I am far more familiar with the ancient history of the region and of our faith ancestors, who sojourned there millennia ago. We have been reviewing that history in the Sundays of Lent, schooling ourselves in the promises God made to our forebears, who were often unwelcome in the land they had been promised.

On the first Sunday in Lent, after nearly drowning the whole human race in a mighty flood, God repented. (Genesis 9.8-17)

On the second Sunday in Lent, God , impossibly, promised children to Abraham and Sarah. (Genesis 17.1-7,15-16)

On the third Sunday in Lent, God gifted the Chosen People, unruly and ungoverned after centuries of slavery, with structure. (Exodus 20.1-7)

On the fourth Sunday in Lent, God countered snakes on a plain with snakes on a pole (Numbers 21.-9)

And this Sunday? What truly outrageous thing will God promise this Sunday? Something new.

The prophet Jeremiah puts two words together that had never, in the Old Testament, been joined before. “New” and “Covenant.” Jeremiah’s audience was familiar with “new;” they were also familiar with “covenant.” But that God would take a promise millennia old and spruce it up? That is about as likely as snakes on a pole or truly-geriatric pregnancy. The new thing God promised was that, though God’s people had broken every promise, violated every covenant, disappointed God in a million ways, God was not done with them. “No longer will the law be outside you (on tablets of stone or phylacteries on your foreheads). The law will be carved on your hearts.” (Jeremiah 31.31-34)

For reasons that elude, God is never done with us. Though we disappoint God and each other on a daily basis, God promises to never harm us, to bless, guide and protect us, and to never give up on us. God etches promises and reminders of faithfulness on our hearts, even as God’s own heart is breaking.

What might these ancient covenants have to do with the trauma unfolding in Israel and Gaza? Persistence. Not ours, but God’s. God’s persistent desire to remain in relationship with us. Even when we are small-minded, hard-hearted, fear-driven, arms-crossed against God and each other. Like young lovers carving their initials on a tree, God carves a promise on our hearts. Will we find the courage to open those etched hearts to the needs of our neighbors? Will we find the courage to open our minds to possibilities for peace that only God can see?

Please join us Sunday as we close the season of Lent and look ahead to the events of Holy Week and Easter. Here’s what’s happening:

Children’s Music in the Augustana Room, 9:30 a.m.

Godly Play and Godly Play+ in the Education Wing, 10 a.m.

Worship in the sanctuary, 10 a.m.

Coffee Hour following

We delight in being able to re-populate the Education Wing after months of fire suppression system repair. We continue our Lent Challenge with Habitat for Humanity of Lake County. (We will soon schedule dates for Ascension to be part of their Interfaith Build in August. Stay tuned.) We work the details for all the events of Holy Week and Easter. (Spoiler Alert—we’ll have TWO Easter Bunnies for the egg hunt Easter morning.) And, in keeping with God’s promise to keep promises, we continue to commit ourselves to the evolving ministry placed before us.

It is difficult to know how to speak of, pray for, think about, advocate for the humanitarian, economic, military and political crisis unspooling in the Middle East. Will our faith siblings—Jewish and Muslim–in the region ever dance again, ever rejoice again, ever feel safe again? So, rather than take sides or pursue speculation, we do what God’s people have always done. Pray for peace. Attend to need. Lift the fallen. Acknowledge the ache as God carves truth into our hearts.

As we do that difficult, faithful work, we marvel at God’s persistence. Promising faithfulness to faithless followers. Promising a new way to we who cling to the old. Promising a way where there is no way.

See you Sunday,

Pastor JoAnn Post

More than a single verse

Dear Friends,

He was known as the Rainbow Man, a ubiquitous presence at professional sporting events in the 1970’s and ‘80’s. Rocking a puffy rainbow wig, Rollen Stewart would fling himself in front of television cameras with a simple slogan (on a placard or t-shirt): “John 3.16.” I imagine most viewers had no idea what that combination of letters and numbers meant. A password? A padlock combination? An address? A decoder ring?

But Bible readers knew exactly what he referenced. Its been called the “most famous verse in the Bible:”

For God so loved the world , God gave the only Son, that all who believe in him (the Son) may not perish, but may have eternal life.

Orators intone it. Choirs sing it. Inkers tattoo it. Artists paint it. And, of course, there’s the Rainbow Man, who splashed it on television screens around the world. Why? Why the fascination with this single verse?

It has been said that John 3.16 sums up the whole of the gospel message in a single sentence. After all, what more needs to be known of God, than that God’s love for humanity was so great, God was willing to sacrifice the only Son for our sake? Apparently, by that line of reason, the other 31,101 verses in the Old and New Testaments are simply supporting commentary. (You can tell by my thinly veiled sarcasm that I don’t agree with that sentiment.)

Yes, a succinct description of God’s dying love for creation is a needed gift in a world awash in words. But it is not so simple or so welcoming a verse as it first seems. And there is more to be said of God’s love than that single verse contains.

Please join us Sunday as we gather around this most famous of verses, and a few others of import. But first:

Please join us for our One Tree Many Branches concert with violinist Rabia Brooke, and accompanist Clare Longendyke. Ms. Brooke is an award-winning young violinist, creating at the intersection of classical tradition and the diverse stories of today. What better way to warm yourself on a cool, cloudy March day than with beautiful music in good company. The concert will be at 4:30 Saturday afternoon. It is free and open to the public; a reception will follow.

Before you lay yourself down to sleep Saturday night, be sure to push your clocks an hour ahead as we return to Daylight Savings Time. We’ve posted a catchy little hymn tune to remind you of the shift on our Facebook page.

Our Vitality Initiative: Seeking Justice for Those Who Have No Home, continues with a (recorded) conversation with Eunice Bridges Alexander, Director of Family Services for Habitat for Humanity Lake County. Ms. Alexander will describe the selection process for Habitat’s partner families, and the way the families are empowered as home owners. The Vitality Talk will take place Sunday at 9:30 a.m. We also have additional sign-up sheets for those who are interested in being part of a Habitat build with other Ascension members and friends.

We are also pleased to announce that the fire suppression system in the Education Wing is up and running.  Crisis averted! We are grateful to our property managers and leaders who coordinated this process, and to our Godly Play leaders and families for their extraordinary good humor and patience with their cramped quarters. We haven’t had time to restore the Education Wing to habitable condition, so Godly Play and Godly Play+ will meet in their temporary classrooms for one more week.

Here’s what’s happening Sunday:

Children’s Music, 9:30 a.m.

Vitality Talk, 9:30 a.m.

Godly Play and Godly Play+ 10 a.m.

Worship, 10 a.m.

Coffee Hour following

In case you wondered, the John 3.16 Man won’t be appearing at any more professional sporting events. His religious fervor drove him off the rails and, in a last, violent effort to convince the world of God’s love, he committed eight felonies (kidnapping and bombing among them). He is serving three consecutive life sentences in federal prison. How does a person go so outrageously wrong—using the love of God in Jesus Christ to inflict harm. Maybe we do need those other 31,101 biblical verses to provide a more nuanced and inviting image of God. Come to worship Sunday, and we’ll talk about it.

Springing forward with you,

Pastor JoAnn Post

A prayer for peace (and a lump in my throat)

Dear Friends,

Just as I put fingers to keyboard yesterday to start this weekly missive, news broke of the killing in Gaza. Which killing, you ask, since there are so many. I’m referring to the more than 100 starving people who died yesterday while seeking food from aid trucks. Reports vary about the cause of their deaths. Some blame Israeli soldiers. Some blame panicked truck drivers. Some blame the victims themselves. I cannot imagine the chaos of that moment, and have to remind myself to withhold judgment until facts are confirmed.

It is dangerous even to mention the conflict in Gaza. Our ELCA Conference of Bishops is, at this moment, drafting a statement on the conflict, considering each word, so as not to be accused of bias. We are all upset. We are all confused. We brand others as “anti-Semitic” or “pro-Hamas” simply for voicing concern or sympathy. I am neither of those. My primary concern is that those with power to bring an end to this conflict—and so many other conflicts around the world—choose not to act. They cling to power at all costs, without regard for consequences or attention to simple human decency.

How apt that Sunday’s readings deal with rules of simple human decency. On the Third Sunday in Lent we study the third of the three covenants assigned by the lectionary. On the First Sunday in Lent, God tossed a weapon of violence—the bow—into the sky, never again to be used against creation. (Genesis 9.8-17) On the Second Sunday of Lent, Abraham and Sarah were named “Parents of Many Nations,” with the promise that God would bless them with descendants as many as the stars. (Genesis 17.1-7,15-16). This Sunday, God makes a covenant with formerly enslaved persons released into the wilderness. (Exodus 20.1-17) In a scene made famous in the movie “The Ten Commandments” (1956), God blesses these suddenly Freemen and Freewomen with structure.

Though we often hear God’s words as though snarled by an angry old man (see  Charlton Heston in “The Ten Commandments” above), I believe they were offered in love. God begins with a reminder, “I am the one who freed  you from slavery; you need no other but me.”

God then offers a list of rules to govern their life together. Rules that would keep them in right relationship with God and with one another. As to their relationship with God: the prohibiting of idols, honoring the holiness of God’s name, and the gift of the sabbath.

And their relationship with one another? Imagine how blessed and orderly their lives would be if they honored their elders, their neighbors’ well-being and their vows; if they kept their hands to themselves and their interactions honest.

God did not throw these words down as a challenge, but as a gift. That we regard these simple guidelines as burdens speaks volumes about where our hearts truly lie. That we need to be reminded not to kill, not to lie or cheat or steal is really quite sad.  Wouldn’t we want to live peacefully, respectfully with God and one another?

What do the Ten Gracious Words have to do with violence in the Middle East and elsewhere? When we starve the starving, punish the poor, turn our backs on the unhoused, and blame victims we violate almost every one of God’s expectations of  us. I am most concerned that we, collectively, break the first commandment, “You shall have no other gods,” with wild abandon.

It is idolatry to honor anything/anyone more than God. So, when the keeping and holding of power over others is our highest goal, that power is an idol. Power over others becomes our Golden Calf, the thing we worship, no matter the cost or the consequences.

Forgive my forthrightness. I am not parroting partisan talking points or spewing uninformed opinions. I am writing to you as your pastor, with an urgent reminder of God’s (reasonable) expectation that we would both love God and honor Neighbor.

Please join us Sunday—the texts are packed, the times are urgent, the opportunity to gather is a gift.

Please join us for a Vitality Talk at 9:30 a.m. as we pursue our Vitality Initiative: Seeking Justice for Those Who Have No Home. Nick Nalley, Community Engagement Manager for Habitat for Humanity Lake County, will tell us about the building process, and invite us to join a build.

Children’s Music will NOT meet at 9:30 a.m.

Godly Play and Godly Play+ at 10 a.m.

Worship at 10 a.m.

Coffee Hour following

My heart races even as I write. What to say to you of my distress? What to say of the world’s sorrows? How to communicate the urgency of our vocation as disciples of Jesus Christ? I offer you a prayer for peace offered by our church in times like these. And, as we pray, let us pray also for simple things like human kindness and gentle words and faithfulness, not to a political party or personal opinion, but to God who seeks freedom for all.

You calm and quiet us, eternal God, as a mother holds her children close; all people have refuge in the shadow of your wings. Spread over us the shelter of your peace. Hold before us the wisdom of your cross, where we are drawn to you not by might or power, but by your boundless love and forgiveness in Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord. Amen.

Pastor JoAnn Post

Say my name

Dear Friends,

Tomorrow, we will gather for the funeral of a much-loved member of our parish who, I discovered after her death, had many names. Seven, to be exact. (That number does not include the many professional titles she had earned, or the familiar names used in her family.) I researched her “real” name because the name used in her obituary differed slightly from her name in our church records, which differed slightly from the name by which we knew her. Seven names? Had she been in the witness protection program, running from a felonious past? Hardly.

Each of her seven names had been lovingly conferred either by her parents or by marriage. Each name was a recognition of a particular relationship. And with the addition of each name, she marked a new chapter in her life.

On the Second Sunday in Lent, many new names are conferred, as well. Some of them complimentary. Others of them intended as a slur. What else would you call Jesus’ disgusted, “Get behind me, Satan,” tossed at Peter? (Mark 8.31-38)

The most interesting of the name changes happened to our ancestors in the faith Abram/Abraham and Sarai/Sarah. (Genesis 17.1-7,15-16) The Abraham/Sarah story consumes 13 chapters of the patriarchal narrative. It is a saga of defeat and humiliation and lying and unfaithfulness and doubt. The small portion we will read Sunday involves a mysterious name change—three of them, actually.

First, God self-identifies as “God Almighty,” in Hebrew, “El-Shaddai.” This is the first time God chooses that name, and it is the name that will be preferred in the story of the patriarchs. What does El-Shaddai mean? The etymology is unclear, but the best guess is that this new name means “God of the Mountains,” used most often in discussions of human fertility. Go figure.

Second, God adds a single letter to Abram’s name, turning it from Abram (Noble Father) to Abraham (Father of Many Nations). The third name change occurs when God adds a single letter to Sarai (Princess), naming her Sarah (Mother of Nations). The name changes signified a dramatic shift in their lives. No longer would Abram and Sarai be a wealthy but pitied childless old couple; they would be Abraham and Sarah—evidence of God’s favor, parties to a divine covenant, and progenitors of countless generations.

With the new names—for God and for humans—something new happened. Under these new names, Abraham and Sarah gathered courage to leave their familiar lives behind to trek to a land promised to them, and an enormous family previously denied them. And under God’s new name, “God of the Mountains,” God initiated an intimate relationship with Abraham and Sarah and all their descendants.

Please join us Sunday for conversation about names and name-calling and name-conferring.

Children’s Music, 9:30 a.m.

Godly Play and Godly Play+, 10 a.m.

Worship, 10 a.m.

Annual Meeting, 11 a.m.

Coffee Hour following

Ernest Hemingway is credited with writing, “Everyone has two deaths, first when they are buried in the ground, and the last time someone says their name.”

When we remember one another’s names—the legal, the familiar, the relational—we continue to live. That is why we remember our ancestors as Abraham and Sarah—names that marked a new chapter in their lives and the beginning of ours. That is why God, who is known by many names, calls us by name. To be seen and known, by each other, by history and by God, is a gift.

Tomorrow we will lay to rest a faithful saint of many names. We will name them all. And, as our service closes, in our liturgy we will add new names, “A sheep of Jesus’ fold. Lamb of Jesus’ flock. Sinner of Jesus’ redeeming.” I wonder with what name she was welcomed into the courts of heaven?

Grateful to be named your pastor,

Pastor JoAnn Post

Animals and angels

Dear Friends,

Its not Groundhog Day, exactly. But its close. Like a criminal returning to the scene of the crime, or a dog worrying the kitchen floor where a tasty morsel once fell, every Lent opens the same way: Jesus is tempted in the wilderness by Satan. Though the dance Jesus and Satan do varies among the gospels, this much is always the same—Jesus always wins. Sometimes easily, sometimes by a nose. But Jesus always defeats Satan. After 40 days in the wilderness, he steps back into the world like a prize fighter shaking off an opponent. What more could we possibly discover in this ancient encounter?

This year it is the gospel writer Mark’s turn to tell the story. And he offers only two terse sentences: And the Spirit immediately drove Jesus into the wilderness. Jesus was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan; and Jesus was with the wild beasts, while angels waited on him. (Mark 1.12-13)

Though I have read those two verses hundreds of times before, this time I saw something new. Though the other gospel writers describe the interaction between Satan and Jesus in excruciating detail (stones to bread, etc.), Mark says nothing of their interaction. Mark is interested not in what is said, but who is there. Who was with Jesus in the wilderness? Besides Satan? Wild beasts. Angels. What?

Animals? Angels? This is not the way we usually imagine Jesus’ 40-day vision quest. We usually imagine him alone and afraid, staggering from exhaustion, weak with hunger, parched with thirst, seriously tempted by Satan’s proposals. But not this year. This lectionary year, Jesus has both four-legged and winged company in the wilderness, and Satan is a side note.

What if the wilderness was not a torment, but an opportunity? An opportunity for self-discovery and mission-refinement? What if, rather than watching the clock and pacing the perimeter, counting down the 40 days like a kid before Christmas, he was grateful to be alone with his thoughts? I’m wondering if perhaps Jesus in the wilderness is a model for us, not of dogged determination, but of eager exploration.

Jesus could not have known, at the beginning of those 40 days, what the wilderness held for him. But he was willing to find out. After all, Jesus knew what we often forget—no matter how dark the night or unclear the road, we are never alone. Though our companions may be more like fraidy cats and introverts than wild beasts and angels, the wildernesses through which we walk are teeming with life. Full of love.

Please join us Sunday as we read, again, a story not-as-familiar as we might have imagined.

The morning opens with a Vitality Talk introducing our Lent Challenge with Habitat for Humanity. Members of the Vitality Team will describe the Challenge and Habitat’s own story. The Lent Tree is festooned with ornaments and a challenge awaits. The Vitality Talk will take place in Fellowship Hall at 9:30 a.m.

After worship, our treasurer will offer a Financial Open House in the Front Conference Room. He will walk through the financial reports included in the Annual Report—both last year’s financials and our 2024 plans.

The rest of the morning’s schedule is familiar:

Children’s Music, 9:30 a.m.

Godly Play and Godly Play+, 10 a.m.

Worship, 10 a.m.

Coffee Hour following

Two days ago, on Ash Wednesday, my Northfield clergy colleagues and I offered another annual observance that, like scripture, though familiar never grows old. From morning until night, we etched foreheads with ashes. Sometimes we leaned into cars, ashing parents and children at the beginning or end of a busy day. Sometimes we had private conversation with people for whom the ashes opened old wounds or unanswered questions. We marked foreheads unblemished by age, and foreheads tracked with worry. Regardless of the circumstance, the words were the same, “Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”

Like Jesus’ wilderness wandering, the ash-dark reminder of mortality is a gift. We are all walking the same road; no one gets out of this life alive. How then do we wander this unknown wilderness, populated by animals and angels, temptation and trouble? There’s only one way—year after year, challenge after challenge—we explore this wilderness together.

See you Sunday,

Pastor JoAnn Post