Amos 5:21-24 I hate, I despise your festivals, and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies. Even though you offer me your burnt-offerings and grain-offerings, I will not accept them; and the offerings of well-being of your fatted animals. I will not look upon. Take away from me the noise of your songs; I will not listen to the melody of your harps.
But let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.”
Micah 6:8 He has told you, O mortal, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?
Matthew 25: 34-40 Then the king will say to those at his right hand, “Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.” Then the righteous will answer him, “Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?” And the king will answer them, “Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.”
These were the readings Lois wanted read at her funeral.
That’s because Lois gave us a glimpse of God.
Lois spent her life giving us a foretaste of the feast to come. At least, that’s true for me these last 8 years that I’ve known her. I know she wasn’t perfect, but she gave me a glimpse of God.
Lois spent her life giving us a foretaste of the feast to come. At least, that’s true for me these last 8 years that I’ve known her. I know she wasn’t perfect, but she gave me a glimpse of God.
I remember the first time I met Lois Hellberg: it was in that hallway, and she wanted to lecture me about the merits of serving fair-trade, organic coffee here at church. I had spent some time doing my own share of pushing fair-trade coffee onto congregations, so I knew we were going to be friends. But Lois had a fire within her for justice.
She never wanted to have fancy church services, pomp and circumstance, if they didn’t point to the justice and radical, welcoming love of God. Lois and Lars, who she’s now laughing together with again, were both committed to sharing that radical hospitality of God, and that, I believe, led them, a long time ago to make the bold move of purchasing a little house on the SDSU campus, now named the Agape House -- where Lutheran Campus Ministry continues, where students of all stripes are welcomed, and fed, and invited into dialogue about life and faith and into service in their communities and in the world...not fancy and inaccessible; it’s simply an open door. Agape house -- do you know what that word means? It means “the unconditional love of God.” Lois gave us a glimpse of that.
She was always concerned for the outsider. She was always welcoming of the stranger, the immigrant, the imprisoned, the sick. When we had our bell stolen here, Lois called me and asked me if anyone would be going to visit the young man who stole our bell. She was very concerned about him, and she wasn’t content with us to getting off that march toward mercy by simply saying, “We’ll certainly pray for him, Lois.” She’s the one that told me, “We best take action as though our prayers mean nothing, AND we best pray as though our actions mean nothing.” She lifted up Matthew 25 then too: “Just as you did it the least of these -- the criminals, the outcast, the strangers -- you did it to me.”
No one ever did go visit that man in prison, including me. But Lois loved us/me anyway. See? Lois gave us a glimpse of God.
Lois was committed to justice...which is not to be confused with guilt-assuaging charity. It wasn’t about just giving someone a fish, or even teaching them how to fish. Lois was committed to moving over and sharing the pond. She sought to critique and confront whole systems that oppress the poor. Did you know that? I wonder if everyone knew that radical agape side of Lois, because at the same time, the stories that I keep hearing this past week here, were about how kind and loving she was...too everyone, regardless of their affiliations, or their shortcomings (in my case), or their fears, or their difference of opinions. She struck that balance of being both comforting and challenging, prophetic and pastoral. Simply put, she was an advocate.
Lois spoke the truth in love, always in love. And she sung out the hymns of the faithful, the marches for justice, the protest songs for peace. This is Amos.
“I hate, I despise your festivals,
and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies.
Even though you offer me your burnt-offerings and grain-offerings,
I will not accept them; and the offerings of well-being of your fatted animals
I will not look upon. Take away from me the noise of your songs;
I will not listen to the melody of your harps.
But let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.”
How many times has this world failed this plea of Amos, and I’d say of Lois too -- and yet she loved this world anyway. She loved this whole creation. See? Lois gave us a glimpse of God.
She wasn’t perfect, but Lois sought to do justice and love mercy -- she was always working on forgiveness. And Lois walked humbly with her God. Despite her strength and her assertiveness -- sometimes her brusqueness, she was incredibly humble, and always reflecting back on what she might have done/said differently. Sometimes/often times she’d call me here at church, angry about this thing or that, usually concerned because she thought we were leaving this person or that person out. And then she’d call back a day or two later, “Forgive me,” she’d say. Not self-hating or taking back her concerns, but rather and lovingly self-aware, and not ever wanting differences or tone or harsh words to break down the community in Christ we all share.
In 2011, we celebrated our 50th anniversary as a congregation and made a film in which Lois was interviewed. And she described being part of the church as being part of a herd of cattle...(got a big laugh at our banquet), but she didn’t mean it to be funny and certainly not insulting: a herd of cattle gathered around the same watering hole. When I asked why she keeps coming back after all these years -- I mean, bad things have happened in your life -- why keep coming back: “I still need to drink fresh water.” Lois walked humbly with her God.
To know her was to be loved by her. And even those who didn’t know her were loved by her. See? ...glimpse of God.
I gave up trying to list all the ways that Lois touched my life, my intellect, and my soul. There are too many to name.
And there it is again and at last...“too many ways to name”: glimpse of God.
So now -- we commend Lois back to the God with whom she’s always walked. The God who loved her first, sealed and marked her in a Nebraska baptism in the 1930’s, the God who loves us, and is made known to us through people like Lois -- and through people like us -- as we too are called to befriend this world, as she did, to love one another, to always be working on forgiveness, to work for justice, and to walk humbly.
Today we lift Lois up, and say, “Thank you, God, thank you for giving her to us to know and to love, as a friend and a partner here on our earthly pilgrimage. Thank you for all that she taught us, for giving her to us to give us a glimpse of you and your radical hospitality, love, forgiveness, gentleness, peace.”
Ya know...I know the traditional model is that a pastor is a teacher, but it’s hard for me to think of anyone who taught me more about what it means to be a Christian. Perhaps that’s true for you too. That’s something to be thankful for today -- what a gift Lois was for us.
So today we say thank you, and now we ask God, “Receive our sister, Lois, into your arms. Her walk here with us has ended, now receive her into the blessed walk of everlasting life, now receive her into the glorious company of all your saints in light. And now be with us, as we comfort one another in our grief.” AMEN.
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