February 25, 2023 + First Sunday in Lent + Mark Bangert remembrances + Pr. Craig Mueller
Journeys can be outward—like trips, excursions, cruises. And journeys can be inward—reflecting the movement of the Spirit. No wonder the Church talks about the baptismal journey and the journey of Lent. Our procession around the church was an outer journey, a walking together, reflecting the inner journey from bondage to freedom, from darkness to light, from death to life, from Lent to Easter.
We, of course, went in a big circle. And more or less, ended up where we started. Reminds me of words by T.S. Eliot: “We shall not cease from exploration. And the end of all our exploring / will be to arrive where we started. And know the place for the first time.”
Maybe we are changed along the way. Or notice things we have never noticed before. Remember the maxim: the journey is as important as the destination.
But like all journeys, there are twists and turns. Life doesn’t turn out like we expected. Like a road trip, there always seem to be delays, detours, traffic jams, and of course, road construction. Things that slow us down, test us, test our patience.
Think of Jesus, fresh from his baptism, with echoes of “beloved” and “my Son” still in his ears. With vigor, ready to embark on his calling. Instead, the Spirit leads him into the wilderness. A detour if there ever was one. The tempter testing him to see what he is made of. Rather than taking the long road, Jesus was offered the shortcuts of power, potency, and grandeur.
Tonight we remember the baptismal journey of Mark Bangert, who with Kristi, was a beloved member of this HTLoop community since its inception in 2014. A few of us knew Mark as a seminary professor, scholar, preacher, writer, liturgist, choral conductor, and oboist. Most of you probably knew Mark as Kristi’s husband, someone you talked with at our wine and cheese reception. With his humble Saturday night demeanor, you probably had no idea of his many accomplishments earlier in his life.
Mark’s journey certainly had twists and turns. When I asked him on several occasions to think back over his life, he named that he was grateful that his passion for ministry was able to be married with his passion for music. I experienced those gifts during my time at seminary and while singing in the Saint Luke Bach cantata choir that he conducted for many years.
The first half of Mark’s life brought two big challenges. His first marriage fell apart, as he told me. And then he and other faculty members of Concordia Seminary, Saint Louis were booted out of the Missouri Synod. Mark recalls being asked by a conservative board: “do you believe that Jonah was literally in the belly of the whale?” Enough said. The rest is history. And interesting history at that.
In the second half of life Kristi, the love of his life, joined Mark on journeys to Tanzania and Taiwan, among other places, to study the church music of Africa and Asia. He also was part of an important consultation on worship and culture which helped widen our understanding of liturgy and music beyond our Western experience.
I have to tell you about a humorous memory while on a road trip—a seminary choir tour, to be exact. The bus driver was pulled over for speeding. We were on our way to a sing a concert. Perhaps we were late. The bus driver got out to talk to the cop. Then tall and imposing Mark, in clerical collar, and many other students in collars also got out. And just stood there. It was quite a scene. And you better believe that the bus driver didn’t get a ticket with that so-called divine intervention.
Mark also took a huge risk back in 1987 that was part of his journey—and mine. In a very different time than ours, he presided at the blessing of my same-gender relationship, several blocks from the seminary. It was held on Reformation Day. Something not lost on any of us.
Speaking of other trips, I learned that Mark and Kristi would take one grandchild at a time to Washington DC fun sight-seeing journeys. And their kids and grandkids would travel each year to Hyde Park for Thanksgiving and to see the Marshall Field Christmas windows.
Mark journeyed with me and Holy Trinity during the early months of the pandemic, helping us to make the decision to offer communion online as an extraordinary and pastoral response—Mark making the case based on examples from Martin Luther’s life.
What about us and our spiritual journey? We may not sense the Spirit literally leading us to journey into the wilderness. But Lent can teach us to slow down, to learn moderation, to focus on what is most important in life, and to deepen our relationship with God and neighbor. And several days after Ash Wednesday, it is the awareness of our mortality and the death of Mark and others beloved to us, that causes us to stop, stand still, and take stock of our lives.
Supposedly our first parents in the Garden of Eden didn’t need to travel anywhere. They were in paradise, after all. When I was reading up on this week’s texts in a resource called Sundays and Seasons Preaching, to my surprise there was a short essay by Mark Bangert. Dated for February 26, 2023. Mark names that our forebears in faith failed the test. And death entered the picture. They and their descendants sought to be like God, and as Mark wrote, such is the root cause of every human cave to allurement. Paradise lost.
As Mark concludes this essay, he preaches to us this night: “Angels came and ministered to Jesus. Presumably that ministry included bread, a veritable feast of victory which is ours, too, even though it seems that our forty days of [trials] never end. But for now there is always the end of famishment, the free offering of the “grain from heaven” and the “bread of angels.”
This weekly gathering of word, bread and wine, is food for the journey: our spiritual nourishment, as it was for Mark throughout his life.
Mark’s final excursion was a driving get-away-from-the-cold trip to Florida this past January. Because of Kristi’s recommendation, Ernest and I also chose to vacation in the same spot, and we happened to be there the same week. When Mark needed to be hospitalized, Ernest and I made a pastoral call, without clerical collar and quickly making due with whatever bread, wine, and a plastic tropical goblet we could find in our cottage. It was the last eucharist he received. Bread for the journey.
Mark’s journey is ended. His baptism complete. And as we will sing at the conclusion of the funeral liturgy a week from today: “May the angels lead you into paradise; may the martyrs come to welcome you and take you to the holy city, the new and eternal Jerusalem. May the choir of angels welcome you where Lazarus is poor no longer. May you have eternal rest.”
We continue our baptismal journey, led on by the saints before us, led on by the life and witness of Mark Bangert.
Come to this table. For you will receive all that you need for the days ahead: the bread of angels, bread for the journey.