Hearing and believing?

     Our gospel text for Sunday will sound very familiar to our brothers and sisters familiar with the Roman Catholic tradition - for Luke 1 is the scriptural basis for the Hail Mary prayer.

The Visitation by Qi He

Hail Mary, full of grace.
Our Lord is with you.
Blessed are you among women,
and blessed is the fruit of your womb,
Jesus.  

This oft said prayer is the blessing Mary receives from her cousin Elizabeth upon greeting her in her home.  Mary has just found out that both she and her cousin are miraculously pregnant and she runs to greet her beloved cousin.  But one thing the Hail Mary leaves out is the second part of Elizabeth's blessing, found in verse 45,

Blessed is she 

who believed that there 

would be a fulfillment of what was 

spoken to her by the Lord.

     Mary has received praise and accolades over the years, worshiped in the Roman Catholic church, and as a result of the Reformation, almost shunned in Protestant churches.  And both of these approaches to Mary are unfounded in scripture.  What is founded, however, is the respect and honor Mary receives - not because she is the mother of Jesus - but because she was a faithful disciple.

     The gospel of Luke reiterates this blessing in chapters 8 and 11, and Mary becomes for us an example to be emulated.  While we will not have the opportunity to give birth to God's son as Mary did, each of us has the opportunity to hear God's word and believe it will be fulfilled.

     We each hear the Word of the Lord, "One who is more powerful is coming!"  

     We each hear the Word of the Lord, "I have called you by name; you are mine."

     We each hear the Word of the Lord, "I have remembered your sins no more."

     We each hear the Word of the Lord, "Stand up and raise your heads, because your salvation is        drawing near."

And we each have in us the faith it takes to believe these things.  And not only to believe, but to live them out.  To live as though there really is a powerful savior coming - not with fear, worry, and dread, but with hope that there will be a better future.  To live as though our sins are forgiven - not weighed down by the guilt of past wrongs, but liberated to live anew each day.  To live as though God's naming and claiming us as sons and daughters is the foundation of everything else - not aspiring to be identified by jobs, possessions, family, appearances, and status, but living from the fact that we are God's and nothing else matters.  To live as though our salvation really is drawing near - not sweating the small stuff but confidently living in each moment knowing that in Christ all will be well.

     As we come ever closer to Christmas, I am left pondering Mary and Mary's faithfulness.  How can I imitate Mary, the ideal disciple?  Do I hear and believe?

What happened to grace?

     Okay, okay.  No, it is not a mystery whether we are saved by faith, not works.  We are saved by faith, bathed in the death and resurrection of Christ, and it is his perfection that is given to us, his faith that is given to us, his life and forgiveness freely granted, all because he came down.  That said, the text for Sunday from Luke 3 could make one question that.  We have a continuation of last week's text, going on right after John's proclamation, and it sounds an awful lot like he is saying that our salvation is based on merit.  And he doesn't just say it once. He does go on at length about this.

• Bear fruits worthy of repentance.
• Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.
• Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none; and whoever has food must do likewise.
• Collect no more than the amount [of money] prescribed to you.
• Do not extort money from anyone by threats or false accusation, and be satisfied with your wages.
• His winnowing fork is in his hand, to clear his threshing floor and to gather the wheat into his granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.

Flower of Fire on display at Kazuya Akimoto Art Museum

     To me, this seems like a long list of moral laws to which John the Baptist is wanting us to adhere, to show that we have truly repented.  And herein lies the great theological question: What role do works play in the life of a disciple?
     If we take John at his word, it seems that works are necessary for repentance.  That is, that a truly repentant person shows by their life that they have repented.  The proof is in the pudding, as they say.  But if that's the case, that works are necessary for repentance, where does grace fit?  And this isn't even the biggest question I have with this text.  The second comes at the very end.
     After John has just warned them that the ax wielder is ready to cut down any tree that doesn't bear fruit, after John has told them that there is one coming who will burn the chaff, after John has told them that we must share our possessions, "with many other exhortations he proclaimed the good news to the people."
   
  GOOD NEWS?!?  Unless I read the wrong lines, that doesn't seem very much like good news.  Going to be burned unless I do these things?  Great.  So much for God's forgiveness...

      Except that's not it at all.  If you read closely you realize that forgiveness is NOT conditional of repentance, but repentance IS conditional of forgiveness.  So you can't repent unless you've first been forgiven.  Which actually makes sense, if you read verses 16-18 again.  Jesus will baptize with the Holy Spirit and fire.  Don't you see?  In baptism we are the wheat and the chaff.  Each of us.  Both.  And in our baptism the chaff part of us was burned away so that all that remains is the wheat - good fruit.  Our good fruit, our repentance, is only dependent on being chosen by Christ to begin with.  In the waters of baptism we received the resounding, 'YES!' from God and were cleansed.  We were forgiven, and renewed, and then the repentance began.
     Well, almost.  Obviously repentance is something we have to deal with each day.  Obviously all the baptized are not all good fruit - I know from my own life there is plenty of chaff still to be burned away.  Which is where our Advent comes in.
     Even though we have already been baptized, cleansed with the purifying fire of Christ's love, we are not yet there.  We wait for the day when faith shall be sight, we wait for the day when Christ's love conquers all, we wait for the day when we no longer struggle to do what is right and fair in God's eyes. 
     And so we pray.  Come, Lord Jesus, come.

Christ is coming! Good news for everyone?

     In our second week of Advent, we go back to the beginning of Luke, well, almost the beginning, when John the Baptist is out in the wilderness crying out God's message

from simonlucas.co.uk

Every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill shall be made low,and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough ways made smooth; and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.

 John is preparing us, and God is preparing the way so that everyone may see salvation.  Except in the gospel text for Sunday, the implications of John's proclamation aren't so comforting for everyone.  We start in Luke 3, and the author of Luke takes painstaking measures to make sure we know exactly when and where this is happening.  Again, theologian and scholar Mark Allen Powell writes

Luke wants to emphasize that what he reports is of global significance.  The birth of Jesus means 'peace on earth.' One implication of this emphasis is that for Luke politics and theology merge into one.  The listing of political rulers (also in [Luke] 2.1-2) suggests that what God is doing has political, not just spiritual, significance.  Or, to put it another way, what God does affects society, not just individuals.  If we were reading Luke's gospel straight through, the Magnificat (1.46-55) would still be fresh in our minds when we read these verses.  We would then realize that all the powers named in verses 1 and 2 have one thing in common.  Some of them are Romans and some of them are Jewish; some of them are secular authorities; others are religious.  But they are all going to regret the advent of Christ that John is about to announce.*

     Woah - politics and theology merging into one?  Whatever happened to separation of church and state?  Whatever happened not mixing politics and religion?  Yet there it is, in Mary's song of praise, He has shown strength with his arm;
   he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.
He has brought down the powerful from their thrones,
   and lifted up the lowly;
he has filled the hungry with good things,
   and sent the rich away empty.

Mary's song clearly states that the rulers will be overturned and that those in power will be cast to the bottom while the lowly are lifted up.  And yet this isn't even the most extraordinary aspect of these six, short verses in Luke.  The amazing thing is that there is nothing anyone can do about it.
     God has promised to come.  God has promised to make a way.  We often hear these words from John as an admonition to prepare better.  Rather than worrying about the food, presents, cards, decorating, we should focus more on Jesus.  Rather than spend money on gifts for our family we should spend money on those who need it.  Rather than preparing our homes, we need to prepare our hearts.
     The only thing is that with this thinking gospel turns to law.  Anytime you add a 'should' or 'need' to a statement about faith and our relationship with God you have taken grace out of the equation.  It is no longer anything that is freely given or without strings.  So if this is about mixing politics and religion, and about preparing but not preparing, what is the good news and how is this good news for everyone?
     The good news is that Christ is coming!  And the even better news is that there is nothing we can, should, or need to do about it.  God's work is to prepare our hearts.  Our work is to be open to it.  God's work is to bring about God's reign on earth.  Our work is to watch for it, and see it when it happens.  God's work is to bring Christ into the world.  Our work is to enjoy Christ's coming.
     And by this work, the work of God alone, Christ comes and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.  So what do you think?  Christ is coming!  Is this good news for everyone?

*Powell, Mark Allan.  Advent 2 - Preparing the Way, in Emphasis, November-December 1997. p 44

Is this the beginning or the end?

     Happy new year!!!!  That's right, it's once again the new year in our church calendar.  We had a wonderful celebration on Christ the King Sunday, reflecting on how Christ as King makes all the difference in the world.
     Now the thing I love most about the church is that it seems so backward most of the time.  We go against most of what the world values, as we heard last week; we find power in places such as suffering, death, and babes in mangers; and the church year begins with the end.
     Where you might think the church year would start somewhere logical, like with creation, or Jesus' birth foretold, instead we start right where the whole thing ends, with Christ's return.  Our gospel text this week comes from Luke 21, a picture of signs of the end times and Jesus' second coming.  Biblical scholar and self-proclaimed Jesus freak Mark Allen Powell has this to say:

If psychology tells us that what we are is determined by our past, then eschatology tells us that what we can be is determined by our future.  In other words, what we know and believe about our future has a genuine effect on the    present. Ultimately, 'hope' is what makes all the difference. 

mission, meaning, purpose - all are grounded in hope

     In other words, knowing what is coming, knowing what is at the end of it all, impacts how we live our present.  Yes, we are shaped by our past experiences.  Everyone is, and psychology can help shed a lot of light on that aspect of humanity.  However as people of faith we also believe in the future.

     Without knowing the ending we might, perhaps, do as the gospel of Luke tells us not to, that is,

have "hearts weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life." (Luke 21.34)  Rather, Jesus says, because we know that at the end is salvation, eternal life, and peace, we ought to "stand up and raise our heads, because our redemption is drawing near." (Luke 21.28)

     The interesting thing about this text is that the author of Luke promises that all of these signs will take place in our lifetimes, "For it will come upon all who live on the face of the whole earth." (Luke 21.35)  Obviously it would seem, Christ did not come back in the lifetimes of the original readers and hearers of this text.  Obviously, it would seem, Christ did not come back in the generations since.  And, it would also seem, that at least so far, Christ has not returned in ours.  So why, then, does it say all who live will have to face the end?

     Well, perhaps this is another of those texts written with multiple meanings.  Perhaps, as it would seem on the surface, we are being told of the final, ultimate coming of Christ.  And, perhaps as is slightly less obvious, we are being told of the little, disruptions of life that mean the end of one thing and the beginning of another.  

     And the latter are endings we all experience.  Disruptions include things like the ending of relationships - through death, divorce, moving, or simply from the natural run of things.  Disruptions include things like the ending of chapters - through life transitions, job changes, or the way life simply changes who you are and how you are in the world.  Disruptions include things like the start of a war, the drop of the economy and markets, Hurricane Sandy, and a severe drought.  

     Disruptions happen every day.  And we have two ways of dealing with them.  We can react with fear and foreboding or we can react with hope and certainty that with the disruption our redemption is drawing near.

     We begin with the end.  The Alpha and the Omega.  The eternal One who brings salvation and who draws near in unexpected places and ways in the midst of little disruptions and, finally, at the end of times.  After thinking on the big end and the little disruptions, I am left to ponder my own life - where are my little disruptions and how do I react?  Is this the beginning or the end?

The all-powerful powerless?

     Do a search for 'kingdom of God' in your favorite image search engine.  Seriously.  Do it.  What do you find?  When I did the search, I came up with many images of pretty clouds, a mix of both beautiful and cartoonish gates, the colors are warm, with strong looking hands coming out of the sleeve of a white robe, and crosses splash brilliantly across a rainbowed sky.  With this Sunday we celebrate Christ the King, and these are the images we read from scripture:

        A stream of fire issued
and flowed out from his presence.
   A thousand thousands served him,
and ten thousand times ten thousand stood attending him.

To him was given dominion                     
and glory and kingship,                 
that all peoples, nations, and languages               

should serve him.           
His dominion is an everlasting dominion        
that shall not pass away,      
and his kingship is one   
that shall never be destroyed.

 

 Look! He is coming with the clouds; every eye will see him,
even those who pierced him; and on his account 

all the tribes of the earth will wail.
So it is to be.

 Amen.
I am the 

Alpha and the Omega, 

says the Lord God, who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty.

 

     These are indeed mighty and marvelous images.  The final judgment with the 'clouds rolled back as a scroll' as the old hymn* says.  It is an awesome image, the Christ who was crucified, the Word of God who has been since the beginning, the savior of the nations coming to reign on earth.

     And yet with all this might and power our gospel reading comes from John 18, where Jesus is standing before Pilate: a prisoner, a king who is mocked, beaten, and bruised, powerless.  These images stand in stark contrast with one another - the king and almighty, standing in power over all peoples, nations, and languages - and Jesus the insurrectionist, criminal, and powerless Jewish leader. 

     What are we to do with these two images?  Christ the all-powerful with all things subjected and Christ the all-powerless with the weight of the world on his shoulders?  They are so simultaneously incongruent it seems that they cannot both be true.  And yet, our faith, our tradition, Scriptures tell us it is so.  That the creator of the cosmos, the God who was, who is, and who is to come, the Almighty is also the God who became.  In our time and place, bound by laws of physics and thermodynamics, a human being who was arrested, tried, convicted, and sentenced to death.

    And we know this to be true, for it is the life of Christ that is the testimony.  His life which testifies to the good, all-powerful God who became human and suffered the same as us.  The powerful hidden in the powerless, God's kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven.

     So as we approach the end of our Christian year, looking ahead to the new year of Advent, I am pondering what God's kingdom looks like.  On earth God's kingdom is imperfect, not yet come to fruition.  Yet we know God's kingdom has come.  Partially, in glimpses, we see the all-powerful among us.  Often I am surprised by where I see God's kingdom.  More often than not, I find God's kingdom in the powerless, poor, and downtrodden.  I find God in the face of the child, the voice of the stranger, and the life of the victim.  For that is where Jesus was.  

     The one who was, who is, and who is to come has made himself known to us and has sent the Spirit to give us eyes to see.  As we gather this week to celebrate Christ the King, let us remember that he is an extraordinary king, not in the way we think of it, but in God's upside down kingdom sense of it.

How is my labor?

     As we near the end of the church year, the readings take on a decidedly more apocalyptic tone.  Sunday's readings all deal with 'that day' when the world will be no more.  The Daniel text talks of those who will rise to shine like stars in that day, the Hebrews text encourages us to continue meeting together even more so as 'that day' approaches, and in the Mark text Jesus talks about the temple being destroyed, wars, and people coming to lead them astray - and this is but the beginning, for 'that day' will not have yet come.
     It is interesting this year particularly, that these texts are coming to us just as the end is coming - in the Mayan calendar, at least.  One of my facebook friends posted on Wednesday, November 7:

Now that all that election mumbo jumbo is over, maybe we can focus on the fact that the world is due to end on December 21st, 2012.

While said in humor and jest, it is interesting that, for the most part, we live our lives as though we would live forever.  We don't really think about the end until some crazy person makes a prophecy only to have the supposed 'last day' come and go, and the world still exists. So even if we had been holding our breath (just a little bit - and not enough that we would admit it to anyone) life goes on.  Schedules fill up, errands are run, and we live making plans for the future.
     Some days it seems as if Jesus' predictions are coming true.  Rumors of war, earthquakes, famine - all this must take place Jesus says.  And these are but the beginning of the birth pangs.  Now, having been through labor and childbirth, I know what it is to wait.  The beginning of the birth pangs, through the middle, these are the worst.  You know there is a long way to go.  You are prepared for the work and the pain.  And even as expedited as my labor was (I received a bit of pitocin to get my labor going), there was a moment in the middle when it seemed as if it would never end.  The pain was intense, weariness was edging its way in, and I didn't see a way out.
     The people in Jesus' time felt this way.  Always living with the expectation that the world would end, it seemed that the end was just never coming.  There were all these predictions and signs that it was about to come, but each day the sun rose and set, and life continued.  When we hear texts about the end of the world it may seem a little disconnected.  In our post-enlightenment, and now post-modern world view, the end of time is of little concern to us.  We don't live with the fear or anticipation of the end.  Or do we?
     Who of us hasn't thought, at least once or twice, "will the world never change?"  Who of us hasn't wished, at least once or twice, "please let there be no more pain"?  Who of us hasn't once or twice wanted to simply give up hope and quit.  Not necessarily on any one, big thing like life, but in those daily, little things.  Perhaps you are trying to break or create a habit - will the end never come?  Perhaps you are living in a particularly busy time in life - will the end never come?  Perhaps you are going through a laboriously difficult spell - will the end never come?
     It is into this small, daily expectation and anticipation that our Word from scripture comes to us.  And it is particularly to Hebrews that I want to pay attention. 

Let us hold fast to the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who has promised is faithful.

  
Perhaps what our author from Hebrews is trying to remind us here is that it is not just about the end.  It is also about the all the little, in-between moments that make up life.  It isn't about that great day of judgement, but it is about each day where each of us makes judgement on how we lived.  It isn't about the great resurrection, but it is about each little moment of resurrection life we live in faith.  It is about not giving up hope in the little things so that when the big thing comes we wait for it with anticipation and excitement.
     Because, in the end, when the labor is over, we will have arrived.  The end is where all is well.  The end is where the life lived is brought to everlasting life.  The end is where there is no more pain, suffering, or sorrow.  The end is where we are once again whole.  The end is where, with Christ our king, we live forever in glory.
    And until we get there, I am left pondering the mystery, how is my labor? 

Love until it hurts?

     Sunday's readings are all about sacrifice.  In the first reading from 1 Kings 17, a widow who is preparing her last meal shares with Elijah and God miraculously provides jars of oil and meal so that she doesn't run out.  In the reading from Hebrews 9 the author talks about Christ's own sacrifice for all people for the forgiveness of sins.  In Mark 12 Christ tells us that a widow who has sacrificed by giving two small copper coins actually gave much because she gave out of poverty rather than abundance.
     November 11 has been a day of honor since 1919, when it began as a day of remembrance called Armistice Day, marking the armistice between Allied and German forces the year before.  In 1954 Armistice Day became Veterans' Day, a day to honor all veterans, not just those of World War I.  It is a day to remember and honor all veterans who served during times of war and peace,and to remember the sacrifice people have made to make our nation what it is today.
     Sacrifice is indeed a theme that we see many times in the readings and celebrations for Sunday.  And it has gotten me to thinking about the life of faith and sacrifice.
     The widows sacrificed.  Widows were the lowest of low in the social totem, with no one to care for them, no real rights or hope for improvement unless someone took pity on them, and a bleak future.  Yet these two, not mentioned by name, are held up as wonderful examples of faith.  The widow in 1 Kings wasn't even an Israelite.  She most likely didn't worship God, but probably worshiped the god of her area, which would have been Baal.  Yet she sacrificed for Elijah because he told her God would provide.  The widow in Mark is given even less of a story.  We know nothing of her story, where she lives, if she is young or old.  We know only that she put in two copper coins, worth a penny.  And we know that it was all she had to live on.
     Interestingly, there are no reasons given for these two widows' sacrifice.  So I wonder, why?  Why would a widow with a starving son give the last of her meal to a stranger?  Why would a widow give her last penny to the treasury, knowing it was all she had left?  Was it that there was nothing left to lose?  Were they so desperate that it was with a prayer they gave and hoped that God would somehow provide?  Did they simply have such faith that they knew money and food are just materials for this life?
     I am especially struck by the widow in Mark 12 - and the contrast between her and the rich people who contributed large sums to the treasury.  Today, the final day of election season, stands in stark contrast with this widow.  With both candidates raising over $1 billion each, campaign fundraising has gone to a new level.  I wonder what this means for sacrifice?  What if people who contributed to campaigns also contributed an equal amount to a charity?  Or, what if people contributed an equal amount to go to national debt reduction?  Or what if people only contributed half of what they did to the campaigns and one-and-a-half times that to something else? 
     What does sacrifice look like for you?  For our vets, sacrifice looked like giving of themselves: their time, their energy, and sometimes their lives.  For our widows sacrificed looked like giving of themselves: their last and final possessions.  For Christ, sacrifice looked like giving of himself: shedding all the glory of being God and taking on human form, subjecting himself to pain, grief, life, and death, loving us into salvation.
    So what does sacrifice look like for you?  What does it mean that in Christ's sacrifice of life and love we ourselves are freed to live and love others?  How do I love until it hurts?
    

Halloween? A Christian holiday?

     When it comes to holidays, Halloween is one of the most controversial.  Whether it is controversy over what or whom to dress up as, or how skimpy that costume is; whether it is about the amount of candy and sweets that kids eat and whether or not to let them eat home-made goodies; whether it is about the evil and 'pagan' nature of the holiday itself, Halloween certainly creates a stir.
     In actuality, Halloween is part of a great 3-day celebration in the Christian church, and it is a tradition that we as Christians, can help to take back.  Our friends at Vibrant Faith @ Home have given much thought to this and provided some good ideas for families this week.  For the full version, visit their activity 3 Scary Holy Sad Days.  Here is a quick overview:

1. On October 31 (Halloween), whether you are taking kids “trick or treating” or just handing out treats at home, it’s nice to know that the idea of wearing scary costumes comes from the fact that the word, “Halloween” is a variation of “All Hallow’s Eve” which means the evening before the Feast of All Saints – celebrating people who have died but are remembered as holy people. Dress up if you like and enjoy the idea that sometimes it can be scary to be a holy person because you might be called upon to do courageous things.
2. On November 1 (All Saints Day) read about the saint you were named after. If you don’t have a saint’s name, pick a name or a saint that you like and read about his or her life.

• What made them special?
• What challenges did they face?
• How are you like your saint or different from him or her.
• If you are doing this with your children, teach them about their saint too or have them pick a favorite saint’s name.
• What saint would you most like to emulate?

3. On November 2 (All Souls Day), make a list of your deceased relatives and close friends. Remember how precious each person is to you. Was there any element of faith that any of these people passed on to you?
4. If possible visit their graves. If this is not possible go to a cemetery anyway and pray at the grave of any unknown person. They can remind you of your loved one. Besides, everyone deserves to be remembered – even the unknowns. Invite your children to go with you. Life goes on and passes on through them.

     So with this in mind, that the holiday of Halloween is actually a Holy-day, what does that mean for us?  What does it mean to celebrate all the saints?  On Sunday we will remember that we are part of the great communion of saints, 'knit together in the mystical body of God's Son, Jesus Christ our Lord', as our prayer for the day says.  We will remember by name all those who have died from our community as well as any saints you wish to share.  We will remember that our hope comes from that third article of the Apostles Creed: I believe in the Holy Spirit, the Holy catholic church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting.
     Did you notice the progression of this statement?  The Spirit knits us together as one body of Christ.  Together, as God's children, we make up the church.  The church is something that reaches from the past into the present, and extends forward into the future, including the saints of all times and places.  The communion of saints experiences salvation by means of forgiveness of sins, which frees us to love, live, and serve as saints should.  When we die, we believe Jesus ushers us into God's kingdom through the resurrection of our bodies, and from there we have eternal life everlasting.
     Halloween?  A Christian holiday?  Absolutely.  A wonderful opportunity for us to remember all the saints of ages past who have shaped our church today, and whose examples of life, love, and service form and shape our own lives.  It is a wonderful opportunity to explore what it means to be a saint in today's age - to remember as Vibrant Faith says, that 'it can be scary to be a holy person because you might be called upon to do courageous things.'  It is a wonderful opportunity to remember that scary or not, pagan or Christian, tricks or treats, in the end we have a loving God who grants life, salvation, and who, in the end, will wipe every tear and death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more.  Thanks be to God!

How is God re-forming me?

     Reformation Sunday is one of the celebrations in the church year that has one set of readings, which means that we hear the same readings every year.  The readings all center around Martin Luther's radical, new-to-the-time teaching that creation is saved by grace alone through faith alone on account of Christ alone.  Luther called this 'the absolute truth by which the church stands or falls.'  We find this teaching particularly in Romans 3, and it is underscored by the prophecy in Jeremiah 31, and is highlighted by Jesus' teaching from John 8.
     We often use big words on reformation Sunday, words like justification, righteousness, and sanctification when we talk about our faith.  Exactly what do we mean when we use these words?  Theologian Carl Braaten has a wonderful book on justification and in it he talks about how the church uses these words, and says:

 The presupposition of Paul's message [about justification by faith] is the Old Testament idea of God as the judge who calls for righteousness. Paul also holds that human beings are slaves of sin and stand guilty before God.  He rejects the kid of optimism that believe it possible for people to fulfill the law of righteousness.  On the other hand, only the righteous can enter into true fellowship with God.  Only the gospel can break this impasse.  The gospel declares that God acts to communicate God's own righteousness that no effort on the part of human beings can possibly attain.  This happens at a particular place and time, namely, through the cross and resurrection of Jesus.  This puts an end to the way of the law.  God's act in the death and resurrection of Jesus is the final and full revelation of God's justice and mercy.  Faith is the way that an individual person receives the righteousness of God in Christ, and therefore not on the basis of law and merit.  The state of being righteous in the sight of God is radically a free gift of grace, never the result of human achievement.  Faith itself comes of the Spirit of God.  To say that faith is reckoned as righteousness apart from the works of the law underscores the absolute gratuitousness of God's generosity.  God gives what [God] demands, both the righteousness and the faith by which it is grasped.*

During worship on Sunday we will celebrate the rite of Affirmation of Baptism, in which 14 young people will affirm their baptisms.  

In the Lutheran doctrine of baptism, infants are not only regenerated.  They are simultaneously declared to be justified, and this, not because they believe, but in order that they may believe.  The pardon of God rests upon this child as the creative basis of its emerging faith.**

Justification, God's free gift of declaring us sinless and giving us new life in Christ, is a thing worth celebrating.  It is also something of which we need to be continually reminded, and Reformation Sunday is the perfect opportunity.

     It is the opportunity for us each to examine our own lives and contemplate how we have been re-formed in God's love and grace.  How has God's free gift of forgiveness and life changed you?  It is also a perfect opportunity to examine our lives and see if there is something that presently needs re-forming.  Perhaps you are struggling with a particular sin in your life - gossip, trusting in something other than God; perhaps you struggle with an addiction to pornography, alcohol, gambling; perhaps you are in need of healing from a past hurt and hold a bitterness in your heart.

     For Martin Luther, the reformation was not simply the posting of his 95 theses on the door of a church in Wittenberg.  It was a continual process by which the church examined its teachings, prayed for the Spirit's discernment, and then took courage to make changes where necessary.  We are still going through the reformation, albeit with a different outlook on our own faith and God's grace.

     So God has given you freedom - you don't have to do anything to receive it.  It just is. For me and for you and for the whole world, given through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ.  The question is now, what will we do with this gift?  I am left pondering the mystery of how has this gift re-formed my life?  How is God re-forming me? 

*Braaten, Carl E.  Justification: The Article by which the Church Stands or Falls.  Augsburg Fortress: Minneapolis, 1990.  p 82

**p 34

Where do I find my glory?

     Finally! Our text for Sunday from Mark 10 is getting to be a little more reasonable.  Jesus isn't demanding impossible things of us, he isn't pointing out total and complete incongruities with our reality and God's will, and he doesn't make me squirm.  Finally, I get to say to those disciples, "Ha! How could you be so dense??"  Thinking that you have the audacity to ask for a seat at Jesus' side in glory.  If only you knew.
     I mean, really.  Don't you know that Jesus shows us glory doesn't come through being great but through the cross?  He's just told you  3 times that he'll be going to the cross to suffer and die.  And you get it wrong, AGAIN!  Everyone knows that God isn't shown in the beautiful, the powerful, and the strong.  Everyone knows that greatness is through service to others, from being in the background, from loving those who need it, selflessly giving to those who can't repay, accepting the topsy-turvy thinking that is God's kingdom.
     At this point, maybe you're the one saying, "Ha! How could you be so dense??"  Obviously we can say that we believe and know what I have just said, but living it and doing it is quite another.  Our culture practically worships greatness - professionals of all sorts get the glory.  Professional athletes, professional artists, the famous, the beautiful, the perfect.  Yet professionals who serve - teachers, custodians, nurses, administrators, parents, grandparents, those who make the coffee at the office - these people get very little glory, are often glossed over, and relegated to simply the people who make our society run.

Drum major from the Oklahoma Marching Band

     In doing some initial research for this text I came across a sermon by the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.  It is titled, "The Drum Major Instinct" and could very well have been written yesterday.  I have provided a link to both the audio (it's about 40 minutes) as well as the transcript, though I encourage you to take the 40 minutes to listen.  It is a beautiful sermon on greatness in our country, on what we do and what lengths we take to be associated with the great and glory in our society.  We all, deep down, want to be the drum major - the one out front in the spotlight, the one who controls the band, the one who gets the credit. 
     It is a human desire, and we are all like James and John, who want a piece of the sweet glory.  And Jesus grants us that glory - only the glory Jesus gives looks different than we expect.  It is a glory of service, a glory of NOT doing what society expects, a glory that comes only through suffering, rejection, and ultimately death.  Mr. King's sermon, along with our text for this week, have me wondering, where do I find my glory?

In what do I trust?

     Our text from Mark's gospel on Sunday is commonly known as the Rich Young Ruler however it is a bit of a misnomer.  You see, this is one of the stories found in all three synoptic gospels, or Matthew, Mark, and Luke.  The story is told slightly differently in all three, beginning with the rich, young, and ruler part.  It is only in Matthew's gospel that the man is identified as young.  It is only in Luke's gospel that the man is identified as a ruler.  The only detail about this man on which all three gospels agree is that he was rich.  
     Now it seems a bit strange in our reformation ears to think about the things that must be 'done' to inherit eternal life.  Yet that is the question.  And, rather than say something like, "Well you can't earn or inherit eternal life by doing anything," Jesus gives him a very straightforward answer: keep the commandments.
     Easy enough, right?  Well for this man, it was.  He was able to answer sincerely and, I believe honestly, that he had kept these commandments.  Again, it seems strange in our reformation ears that someone can keep the commandments.  But in the Jewish tradition then, and today, they believe that it is entirely possible to keep the commandments thereby living in the absolute shalom (peace, wholeness, and love) of God's salvation.  Notice that the disciples didn't balk at this response from the man.  Jesus himself didn't bat an eye.  It was seen as not only possible, but probable.  So, what then is this man really asking Jesus?
     I wonder if you hear, as I do, a sense of sorrow and disappointment in the man's response to Jesus, "Teacher, I have kept all these since my youth."  If he had kept the commandments, had followed the letter of the law, it would seem that the man would be happy and content living in eternal life with God.  But the very fact that he asked the question seems to imply that he was missing something, that keeping the commandments wasn't all it had cracked up to be.  Sure his life was good - he presumably had good relationships with his family, with his community, with his spouse, and those with whom he had business dealings - but it was missing something.
     Have you ever felt this same way?  Have you ever woken up and thought, "I have a pretty good life.  But there's something missing."  Jesus hears this unasked question and seeing the man kneeling at his feet, loves him, and tells him what that something is: complete trust in the God of the universe.
     Jesus sees that this man is happy, content, and yet simultaneously searching deep in his soul for something he can't quite name.  In his comfort with possessions, in his safety and security of knowing that he can provide all he needs, he is missing the point of all the commandments: relationship with God.

     We often suffer the same fate as this man.  Our possessions starve us from relationship with God, the one from whom all of our possessions come in the first place.  We find security in our home, our job, our closet where we know we have clothes.  We find happiness in a well-stocked pantry, comfy sofas, and heated, energy-efficient living rooms.  We find all we need in our stuff.  You want to know something?  Hop online and do a short research project.  You want to get better at something?  Spend the money to get a tutor, buy the equipment needed, and the memberships needed to practice.  You want to look better?  Go to the store, buy some new clothes, new makeup, or a new car.  All we need.  Right at our fingertips.

     Except all too soon we end up like this rich man.  We have what we want and need, except we are still not happy.  Our possessions don't offer relationship with us.  Your house won't give you a comforting hug when you're having a bad day.  Your closet won't give you solace when you find you don't have a job to which to wear your clothes.  Your pantry won't give you unending love when its shelves become empty.  So what is Jesus' solution?  

Sell all that you have and give it to the poor.

     Again, easy enough, right?  Or...wait...what?  Sell ALL that I have?  Excuse me Jesus?  Surely you can't mean ALL?!?  And thankfully I feel justified in my reaction because the disciples had the same reaction (although knowing the track record of these people who deserted Jesus in his deepest hour of need, it doesn't give me too much solace).  Surely there must be some lesson Jesus is trying to teach and he can't mean everything.
     Well, perhaps to appease my own conscience, I do tend to think Jesus is using hyperbole here.  But his point is made: we trust in our stuff way more than we trust in God.  And in his attempt to help this man see that eternal life can come only through 100% complete and full trust in God, he tells him what that might look like.
     How much to you rely on your stuff?  How much do you trust that your stuff will be there for you?  That your car will always start and run like it should?  That your stockings will stay run-free?  That your pantry will satisfy all your cravings?
     God cares very much about your welfare, and God cares very much that you trust God for all things.  Which is why Jesus talked so much about giving and money.  God cares what you do with your money because your checkbook is as much a statement of faith as the words you say and the deeds you do.  Where your money goes tells a lot about your faith.  What you give to others, your offerings and your gifts, says a lot about your faith.
     Our money has on it, "In God we trust."  So, with this text and with this saying, I am left to ponder the mystery, In what do i trust?

You want me to pay attention?

     I'm not sure why each week I am surprised that the lessons are in some way abrasive, or that they are controversial, potentially offensive to some.  But I still am.  So you won't be surprised when I say that this week's lessons are abrasive, controversial, and potentially offensive.  Jesus teaches on marriage and divorce from Mark 10, we hear from Genesis about the time in creation when God created people and marriage (and about the 'first sin'), and then this seemingly unrelated passage from Hebrews where the writer goes into a section on Christ's divinity and humanity.

photo from weddinginvitationideasblog.com

     In the Mark lesson, and from what we know of commonly quoted Biblical values (which, believe me, isn't all people think it might be), we know that the Bible teaches divorce is wrong and that whoever remarries after being divorced is committing adultery.  And this abrasive.  Offensive.  Particularly if you yourself are divorced and remarried.  So what are we to do?  In a culture where some 40% of the population has been divorced, this seems as if it could be one of those 'stumbling blocks' Jesus talked about last week.  This teaching is indeed something that might get in the way of people hearing the message of God's love and forgiveness.
     So perhaps we can gain some insight as to what Jesus means by starting with the reading from Genesis.  God is creating the world, and has created the first human being.  This human (human, not 'man' because the Hebrew words are different at this point) needs a partner so God begins experimenting.  Animals of all sorts are brought before this human who rejects them all.  So God does something drastic.  God creates the second human being, and it is at this point that we have the distinction of male and female.  And they are a perfect pair - complementing, partnering, and living together in perfect relationship, with God at the center.
     And then they separate.  Not divorce, but separate: from God and each other.  Their own needs, desires, and wishes have gotten in the way and caused a rift.  You don't have to have been divorced to know that this happens in all relationships.  Broken relationships between God and others is, unfortunately, the way of life for us human beings.
     So, it is as Jesus says, that Moses allowed for divorces.  However, this was not as God intended.  What God intended was right relationship.  And, sometimes, because relationships can be so badly damaged, the way to right relationship is through divorce.  As much as God doesn't intend for divorce, God also doesn't intend for people to remain in abusive, harmful, or toxic marriages. 
     Which is why it is important to note our last reading from Hebrews where it says,

Therefore we must pay greater attention to what we have heard, 

so that we do not drift away from it.

What we have heard is the message of God's desire for right relationship, wholeness, reconciliation, and forgiveness.  In any relationship, not just marriage, sometimes wholeness, reconciliation, and forgiveness can come only through a parting.  Sometimes the wholeness, reconciliation, and forgiveness comes through a new relationship, or new marriage. 
     And, if we focus on God's reconciliation, forgiveness, and right relationship with us, it becomes all the more easy to focus on these things in our relationships with others.  Paying attention to God's unending, unconditional love for us allows us to view others in the same lens.  Once again, it is looking first at ourselves, then at the other.  Because, unless we are narcissistic (which I admit I can sometimes be), we see that we are no more perfect than the next, and that if God can love and heal me, surely God can love and heal others, and God can heal our relationships. 
     Thinking about marriage and relationships in this light, I wonder to what I am supposed to pay greater attention.  How do I let my own wishes, desires, and needs get in the way of my relationship with others? 
    What follows is a hymn by Fred Kaan, God When Human Bonds Are Broken, that I believe helps us to ponder these words:
God, when human bonds are broken
and we lack the love or skill
to restore the hope of healing,
give us grace and make us still.

Through that stillness, with your Spirit
come into our world of stress,
for the sake of Christ forgiving
all the failure we confess.

You in us are bruised and broken:
hear us as we seek release
from the pain of earlier living;
set us free and grant us peace.

Send us, God of new beginnings,
humbly hopeful into life.
Use us as a means of blessing:
make us stronger, give us faith.

Give us faith to be more faithful,
give us hope to be more true,
give us love to go on learning:
God, encourage and renew!

For what shall we pray?

     After reading the gospel for Sunday I said a prayer of thanks that I had, weeks ago, decided to preach on the reading from James this week.  The Mark text, you see, is one that makes you cringe when you read it.  Jesus delivers rather harsh words to his disciples and they are uncomfortable to think about.  It would be better to tie a millstone around our neck, cut off our hand, leg, and gouge out our eye than to put a stumbling block before a little one who believes in Jesus?  Yikes!  Let us pray that we never do such a thing!
     Which, actually, is a perfect segue into the James text.  Prayer.

Praying Hands.  Sculpture at Oral Roberts University

    

  Are any suffering? 

Pray

Cheerful?

Pray

Sick?

Pray

Confess your sins

Pray

Be healed

Pray

     Prayer is one of the main, most ancient disciplines of a Christian - a mark of one who talks with God, one who listens for God's voice, one who lives a cruciform-shaped life.  And, according to James, the prayer of the righteous is powerful and effective.  We are given the example of Elijah who prayed for no rain and caused a drought, and then prayed for rain and it came.

     There are stories of prayer being powerful and effective all over.  In fact, just yesterday I spoke with a woman who had been on hospice care because her cancer had become so far advanced it was all but over.  She was on several prayer lists at several churches, with the prayer for healing.  (Keep in mind that very often when I pray for healing for someone on hospice it is more a healing of spirit and mind, and physical healing that can come only through death.)  Except she is, today, cancer free.  Doctors are baffled.  Hospice says it is a miracle.  James says it is powerful and effective prayer. 

     We pray each Sunday as a community - for God's work in the world; for peace, justice, and unity; for healing; for creation; for faith.  We pray the Lord's prayer - for reconciliation; for everyone to have enough; for God's will and kingdom.  We pray each day, and someone once said that it is usually one of two prayers: Help, help, help! or thank you, thank you, thank you!  

     Yet if we have such a powerful and effective means by which to bring healing, praise, and forgiveness, for what then, shall we pray?  How shall we pray for each other?  The world?  Do we believe that prayer is truly powerful and effective?  When we pray for rain during droughts, for instance, do we all start carrying umbrellas?  When we pray for healing, do we cancel the hospice?  When we pray, do we expect anything?  

     God's promises are powerful and effective, and God has promised to listen to those who pray.  God has promised to answer.  God has promised.  For what then shall we pray?

What does this mean?

     For the mystery this week I concede to Martin Luther:

What does this mean?

If you've ever been through confirmation you may recognize this question for it is the central question of Luther's Small Catechism.  After each commandment, each petition of the Lord's Prayer, each article of the Creed, and in study of the Sacraments of Baptism and Holy Communion, he famously asks (by means of teaching) "What does this mean?"
     Which happens to be the mystery for me this week.  Our texts from Jeremiah, James, and Mark are a strange set of texts with a prophecy about the death of Jeremiah (which we interpret as a prophecy of Jesus' own death), an exhortation to be wise and peaceful from James, and Jesus teaching that the greatest in the kingdom is a servant of all and one who welcomes a little child in the name of Jesus welcomes the Triune God.
     What does it mean that Jesus' teaching about welcoming children comes directly after he talks about suffering, death, and being last of all and a servant of all?  In thinking of the implications I begin to get a little queasy.  I don't think this is just a kind of welcome that says on the church marquis, "All are welcome!"  I don't think this is the kind of welcome that greets a new face and says, "Glad you are here today."

JESUS MAFA. Jesus welcomes the children,
from Art in the Christian Tradition,
a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN. 

     This sounds like the kind of welcome that might start to raise eyebrows.  It may not seem that way by reading the text, because we welcome children all the time.  This may be off, but at least from my perspective we have children's sermons, we attempt to make our worship folders more child friendly, we don't mind the sounds of children noises (this may be the hardest one), we are glad kids are in worship and fellowship sharing their laughter, crumbs and spilled milk, thoughts, ideas, and prayers.
     But in Jesus' time children were not viewed this way.  Children were little more than property, valued only for their ability to produce, work, or earn income in any other way.  Children, in our reading from Mark, represent the least, the last, and the oppressed.  Welcoming children, then, was one of the ways Jesus became the least of all and servant of all.
     So if it's not really about welcoming children in worship or church today, what does this mean?  Well, I think we can begin by asking ourselves who the least, the last, and the oppressed in our society are.  Then comes the hard part of asking ourselves what does it mean to welcome these people?  And I'm not just talking welcoming people to worship on Sundays or Wednesdays.  What does it mean to welcome these people into your lives every day?
     We like to be great, to honor those who succeed, to scorn those who fail, to play up our strengths, to hide our weaknesses.  Welcoming the least, the last, and the oppressed goes against everything our society holds dear.  Which is why, I think, our James text talks about the wisdom from above.  "Wisdom from above first pure, then peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy and good fruits, without a trace of partiality or hypocrisy."  
     This is the kind of servant wisdom Jesus asks of his disciples.  This is the kind of radical welcome that God encourages.  This is the kind of least-is-greatest attitude that the Spirit stirs up in us.  This is the kind of lesson that makes us ask of ourselves and of our communities: what does this mean?

What is my cross?

     In my very first class of my very first day of my very first semester of college, I found myself sitting in a large lecture hall, down in the front row on the left side of the center section.  Dr. Dolphin stood up and welcomed us to Biology 201.  He then promised us that not all of us would make it.  This was the biology class for those individuals on a pre-med track.  It was the hardest of the hard, where the best of the best would succeed and the rest would inevitably drop out or fail.
     And it was hard.  4 exams, 40 questions each.  Hundreds and hundreds of flashcards for memorization.  At the end it turns out that I made it.  Barely.  By the skin of my teeth.  (And in fact I did end up taking it again to get a better grade.)

photo by Erika Uthe

     In our gospel lesson for Sunday, taken from Mark 8, it feels as if Jesus is the professor and the disciples are the students.  Jesus is telling his disciples up front: this is going to be hard.  I am the Messiah and whoever wants to become my disciple must deny themselves, take up their cross and follow me.  In these words I hear Dr. Dolphin's voice, "not all of you will make it."
     Is this the Discipleship 201 lecture?  Is this the hardest of the hard where only the best of the best will make it? At least Jesus is right up front here - being his follower, his disciple, will mean self-denial and possibly suffering.  It will mean losing your life.
     It is no wonder the disciples, Peter particularly, took Jesus aside and told him he must be mistaken.  Actually, it was probably a little stronger since it says he 'rebuked' him.  Classic case of the student knowing more than the teacher.  And, in reality, aren't we all like Peter?
     In our North American culture, it is thought that having it all together is a sign that surely you have God's favor and that surely you are a strong Christian.  So when things start to go wrong, many just put on a show, plastering on a smile and pretending that all is well when in reality they are silently suffering.  Or, they simply stop coming to worship, they opt out of everything 'church' and sit at home, suffering with their questions of why.  Why me?  Why this?  Why now?
     Our gospel for this week flies in the face of everything we have previously considered 'Christian' and says to us the exact opposite.  To be a follower of Christ isn't to have it all - all together, all you want, all going perfectly.  Indeed to be a follower of Christ is to trust in all - all circumstances, all things, all times.
     Now if this sounds tough and unpleasant that's because it is.  And it is hard.  Jesus' disciples, in the end, abandoned him at the cross.  They were weeded out of Discipleship 201 - the final exam came and these followers failed.  And so do we.  It is easier, more pleasant, and generally what we think of as self-preservation that lead us to abandon our own crosses, and in so doing completely miss Jesus in our lives.
     What then are we to do?  If these disciples, who lived, ate, learned, and walked with Jesus couldn't even pass, who can?  Well - in reality none can.  But for the grace of God.  Because of the cross, because of God's grace poured out through it, we can all pass with flying colors.  Through the cross we are invited to live with our own, and to acknowledge that in those 'cross moments' Christ has not abandoned us, but is hanging solidly with us.  Because he bore his cross, we bear ours.
     So now, in the course of Discipleship 201, even though we continue to fail exam after exam, even after we show up to class with incomplete homework, and even with our inconsistent performance, Christ gives us the passing grade we need.  He continually invites us back to lectures, lessons, and second-chances.  He continually works to remind us that he is with us, cheering us on, and reassuring that in Discipleship 201 there may be failed exams but there are no failures in his course.
     In the end, he simply stands (or hangs rather) and loves us into taking up our own crosses.  These reflections have gotten me pondering my own Discipleship 201 syllabus.  What has Jesus been teaching me?  Where have I been missing him on the cross because I've been looking for him everywhere else?  And mostly I've been pondering, what is my cross?

Where does my flesh get in the way?

     "I don't need to defend God."  That is a statement one of my colleagues makes regularly, especially when things in life aren't going well and God is the one who gets blamed.  This might seem like common sense, or you may even wonder why it is worth saying at all.  Well, in that case, please read the gospel lesson from Mark for this coming Sunday.  In this lesson you might find that Jesus isn't acting the way we would suppose Jesus should act.  He isn't nice and compassionate, and he certainly doesn't evoke those peaceful, serene images we see hanging on church walls and hospital nightstands.
     This gospel lesson invokes in me the desire to defend, protect, and make excuses for Jesus.  For his behavior is less-than-savior-like: he calls a woman a dog.  Now, there have been  many attempts to explain this away, and I've heard all of them in sermons at one time or another.
     But I don't buy it.
I believe there is no explaining away this uncomfortable situation - I don't believe Jesus was testing her, and really knew how she would react.  I don't believe you can explain away the situation by blaming language and translation barriers.  I do believe that Jesus was a human and a product of his own culture, beliefs, and limited human capacity for understanding.
     Notice that in Mark's gospel Jesus is adamant that people don't tell that he healed them, "for he didn't want any to know".  Time and again after Jesus heals, teaches, or does some other miraculous work, he insists that no one tell anyone.  We often forget that Jesus was God, but that God was bound to flesh - and everything that goes along with it.  Perhaps Jesus was just looking at things from a flesh perspective.
     Now, this doesn't explain anything away.  It simply puts it in a different light.  Think about it: Jesus was sent to fulfill the prophecies of God sending a savior for the Israelites.  Jesus read about himself in scripture, and in the Hebrew Bible, the Messiah comes to save them.  Only them.  It doesn't say anything about savior of the world.  And look at the work he had.
    Imagine that the savior finally comes and then, upon living among the people he is supposed to save realizes what a big job it is. 

"God, you want me to save these people?"   

So he sets about the difficult task of saving them only to realize it would take much more resources, time, and planning than he had originally thought.  And then there comes this other person.  Saving the Gentiles wasn't in his job description.  He was supposed to be resting at this point in scripture.  But here was another person wanting his attention.  His talents.  His time.  His resources.
     Like any of us who have limited resources, Jesus reacted with frustration, perhaps, and a perfectly human tone of voice.  Jesus' mission wasn't to the Gentiles.  It was to the Israelites.  Which is where the divinity of God comes in.  While human time, talents, and resources are limited, the grace of God is not. 
     This woman, in her pushing and asking, perhaps changed Jesus' own human perspective of his mission.  While he was tired, God was not.  While he was taxed beyond belief, God was his strength.  While his view was limited and bound, God helped to broaden his understanding and see the limitless nature of grace.
     So we haven't explained away Jesus' actions and words.  We haven't made excuses, or defended him.  What we have here, however, is a mirror for our own lives.  But, if Jesus was subject to viewing the world from a limited point of view, where does that leave us?  Where is God calling me to broaden my perspective and accept God's limitless grace?  Where does my flesh get in my way?

Faith? Or religion?

from signoftherose.org

     Our texts this week are all about the rubber meeting the road, practicing what you preach, talking the talk AND walking the walk.  Starting from our first lesson from Deuteronomy 4, where Moses tells us to obey the law, to our lesson from James 1 where the author tells us to be doers of the word, not just hearers, to the gospel from Mark 7 where Jesus gets on the Pharisees for their hypocrisy, the texts are all about being faithful followers of Christ.
     You see, the thing is that the Pharisees from Mark were following Moses' command.  They were remembering the laws that Moses had set down.  They were following them diligently so as to show others their wisdom and discernment.  They were doing what Moses told them to do.  So why did Jesus get upset and call them hypocrites?  I believe it has to do with the last verse from our Deuteronomy reading:

But take care and watch yourselves closely, so as neither to forget the things that your eyes have seen nor to let them slip from your mind all the days of your life. ~ Deuteronomy 4.9

Instead of watching themselves closely, they were watching others.  Instead of remembering the reason for the laws, they remembered the laws themselves.  And most importantly, I believe that they let slip from their mind what they had seen - the salvation of the people Israel by the merciful hand of God.
     Remember, these Deuteronomy texts were written RIGHT AFTER God had saved the Israelites from Pharaoh in Egypt.  God had sent manna and quail in the desert.  God had provided safety, deliverance, and salvation.  And God had promised to be the God, the saving God, of this people forever.  That is why the people received the laws.  They were the laws that bound them to God and God to them.  It was a covenant, an agreement, that by following the law God would continue to be their God because God wanted to save them.
     Which is why Jesus quoted from the prophet Isaiah when he said:

You abandon the commandment of God and hold to human tradition. ~ Mark 7.8

The law had become the religion.  The law had become the thing for which the people lived.  It was no longer faith.  They didn't live to be in relationship with God, they lived to be bound to a teaching, a way of living, a club where you were either in or out based on your ability to follow the rules.
     For many in the United States, this is the perception of Christianity.  It is a bunch of people who believe certain teachings, who live a certain way, and who live in a club where people are in or out based on their behavior.  Instead of faith it is religion.  Instead of freedom it is bondage.  Instead of life it is death.
     But it doesn't have to be this way.  As Martin Luther said, "Faith is a living, daring confidence in God's grace, so sure and certain that [one] could stake [their] life on it a thousand times."  I would much rather stake my life on a God who loves me than on rules which bind me.  I would much rather stake my life on the fact that the creator of the world sent Jesus to save than on the fact that we are supposed to pray and read the Bible every day.  I would much rather stake my life on the life of Jesus than the rules of tradition.
     And in so doing, in living with a faith in Christ, living by the law becomes a joy rather than a burden.  Loving others as Christ loves me becomes a way of life rather than a list of to-dos.  Praying and reading Scripture becomes just another conversation with the savior of the world rather than a drudgery of slogging through meaningless words.
     Therefore, take care and watch yourselves closely, so as neither to forget that God loves you and sent Jesus to save you.  Be doers of the word and not merely hearers, for it is what is within a person that shows their true character.
     So what will it be for you?  Faith?  Or religion?