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Death is in the air

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The following is a sermon preached at Christ Lutheran on the Fifth Sunday of Lent, April 3, 2022. You can listen to the audio of the text here (recorded at the 9 am worship service) or watch the video from the 11 am worship service posted below. Photo credit: Pascal Meier on Unsplash; licensed under CC0 as found at WorkingPreacher.org.



Grace and peace to you from God our Father and from the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

        When we think about this passage…if I were to ask you as I did our weekly Bible study group what stands out to you…it is likely that two answers would emerge: 1) the selfishness of Judas; and 2) the lavish generosity of Mary. In the same room…facing the same future possibilities…there’s a clear tension here between Judas who is false and Mary who is true. And within that tension, we have a scene also pointing us forward. Mary’s washing of Jesus’ feet foreshadows the time when Jesus will wash his disciples’ feet in loving service. Judas’ desire for money prefigures the time when he will betray his friend for thirty pieces of silver. And in this situation, we are also reminded of our own.

        Yes, John shares this scene with us…not just to report history…but to help us wrestle with our present and future. We are in that very room in a sense to stare down death with Jesus. In the face of current or upcoming hardship, struggle, or loss – and in life we experience all these things for we cannot avoid them – will we choose the extravagance, pleasure, effusiveness, and exuberance of Mary’s choice, as one pastor[i] calls it, or will we be overly concerned with self-preservation, practicality, and getting what we think we deserve? Will we echo Mary’s loving actions in our life, or will we choose Judas’ path? What will be our legacy? Each and every day, if not moment, we must choose between death and life…selfishness and generosity…isolation (with its me first attitudes) or community (loving God and neighbor as oneself).

        If life were a dinner party, it certainly would be like the room we enter through this story today. You see, the stench of death is in the air of that room, just as it lingers and taunts us in our lives. Remember, Jesus has announced he would be entering Jerusalem even though he knows he will die. Much as Thomas verbalizes elsewhere, Jesus followers expect to perhaps die with him. At the best, they know whatever comes will likely hurt. Lazarus, who was only recently raised from the dead was there eating with them. His presence is a consistent reminder of death. Judas is a prime mover in today’s passage. For the early Christians who heard this passage just as we have, they know what he will soon do. He is a betrayer and false friend. His actions no matter how one might rationalize them or try to understand them helps lead to only one outcome…Jesus’ crucifixion…and perhaps Judas might remind us of people who have been false to us…or how we have been false to others. And the smell of that perfume – oh, that perfume – one used commonly for preparing the one you love for burial…it lingers thickly, perhaps suffocatingly, in the air. Some dinner party! If you have ever said a final goodbye to someone you love, you know a bit of what it was like to be in that room.

         Now, I know I likely have a different intimacy with death than some of you. (And, I don’t share this to shock you, but it helps explain my point of view.) I first encountered death in kindergarten. Death was part of the daily reality of my military and police service – potential death and actual death as when a police colleague of mine was violently slain – and in total, in and out of police work, I have had four people – four people – I know and love who have been murdered. I later served as a hospital and hospice chaplain accompanying people as they died. In doing so, they have become part of me, because I came to love them. In my missionary work among Native youth, I had children die…children die…long before what should have been their time. Yet, despite all this experience with death, I do nit and will not claim any comfort with death. (It is always uncomfortable and painful, no matter how hard we might try to hide it.) I don’t claim to understand all about it. (No one can.) Still, I do seek to accept a Lenten, hopeful, realism about it. (Yes, it can be hopeful.) “Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”

        With that in mind, let me explain further. I recall an older friend who was immensely popular in his region; loved and respected for his work, generosity, and loyalty. He was a steadfast friend and loving person, so as people were sick or entered the hospital, he would surely go visit and offer support. And if they were to die, he would be there to grieve, but also to honor the love shared with his friend by seeking to extend that love to the friend’s family and other mourners assembled. Yet as he aged, and more and more friends died – and he had so many – he felt like he was always going to funerals. It was rightly depressing. And one day he asked me about it. It seemed sort of unfair…hard to escape. Why does God allow so much pain in the world? Why does the smell of death linger so?

        I don’t know in detail the answer to his question, but I did point to Jesus. He humbled himself to share in our life and our death. He suffered for our sake, so that we could live eternally. He chose to love in the face of misunderstanding, rejection, and outright hatred for our sake. Whatever the cost, even death, Jesus chose to love everyone. And in accepting his death on the cross, he knew that it could only lead toward more light and love than we could ever dare hope for.

        Somehow, mysteriously, God has a plan to restore us from our fallen, sinful, selfish nature, into the children of God. Part of that plan is for us to follow Jesus in faith…into and through death…accepting our own sacrificial crosses on the way…and in the manner we choose to love God and others…in the way we pray and live…“Father, not my will, but your will be done.”

        No, we aren’t ever to accept death any more than Jesus does. We don’t seek to accommodate it. And we certainly don’t ignore it…Death is in the room…but as Christians, we choose to resist and fight death. Now, we don’t do so by clinging to life (selfishly, desperately holding on). Instead, we choose to surrender our lives. We offer our lives – our body, mind and soul and all that we have – because death has absolutely no real and lasting power over us. We can always choose to love. There is a grief author (Megan Devine) that observes: “When we choose to love, we chose to face death and grief and loss, again and again and again. Just as much as we welcome the friendlier parts of love, it’s all there, present and contained in everything.”

        Yes, Jesus says there will always be poor with us, but we are to choose to share what we have with them anyway. There will always be war until Jesus comes again, but we are asked to seek and nurture peace instead. There will always be disease, but we are charged by Jesus to comfort the sick and dying. We are to do so because even with the smell of death persistent in our nostrils…death is not the only thing in the room. Jesus is there too…the one who has conquered sin and death through his resurrection and who will not rest until sin and death is utterly destroyed…trampled underoot…gone from our lives forever.

        As the disciples gathered, they had every right to be sad. Jesus had made it clear that they were about to face some very difficult days ahead…just like us. (We cannot avoid this condition, try as we may.) Thus, let us find courage as we remember that in the face of death, God has chosen to gift us with life. We bathe in the grace of baptism where it is God  – not the pastor – who baptizes us and claims us forever. We eat of it at the Lord’s Supper, where again we truly encounter the very real body and blood of Jesus along with forgiveness of sin and promise of eternal love and life. We meet and interact with Jesus as we gather as one body…in the best of times and worst of times, never alone…for Jesus promises to be with us whenever two or three gather in his name. More than that, he promises to be always with us with his ever-present Spirit finding a home in our hearts.

        Graciously, we walk wet through the power of our baptism[ii] – claimed, empowered, and loved by God – throughout our life and beyond our death. For as Luther wrote, baptism is that “which delivers us from the jaws of the devil and makes us God’s own, suppresses and takes away sin, and then daily strengthens” us. Baptism remains always efficacious to us, for even if we were to fall away, Jesus loves those entrusted to his care. He will constantly seek us out. Baptism empowers us to love in the face of death, because it along with the Lord’s Supper gives us the grace which we need to help us daily choose to love as God loves us. These Sacraments change us and our experience with death. For nothing, not even death has the power to separate us from a love like Jesus has for us. In Jesus, God remains extravagantly, lavishly, effusively generous to us.

        Yes, “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” Yes, the stench of death is in the room, and it seeks to accost our sensibilities and frighten us. Lent reminds us of this. And yet, that is not everything we are to remember…We are to remember Jesus…I think Professor Powery of Messiah College summarizes this passage and the daily choice before us well. “John 12 is a reminder that death will not have the final word. Lazarus is a reminder of that promise, even though his human body will die again. The ointment is a reminder of that promise. The people who gathered for another meal are a reminder of that promise. The prepared, anointed body of Jesus, of course, is the ultimate reminder of that promise. Death will not have the final word. During the season of Lent, we remember that death will not have the final word.”[iii] Amen.

The recorded 11 am worship service can be found below. The service starts at about the 7:30 minute mark…


[i] Skinner, M. (March 21, 2010), Commentary on John 12:1-8. Downloaded from https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fifth-sunday-in-lent-3/commentary-on-john-121-8  on April 1, 2022.

[ii] Bishop James Mauney of the Virginia Synod used to often preach about the ongoing power of our baptism by proclaiming that we “walk wet.”

[iii] Powery, E. (April 3, 2022). Commentary on John 12:1-8. Downloaded from https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fifth-sunday-in-lent-3/commentary-on-john-121-8-5  on April 1, 2022.

Many thanks to Professor Powery for his splendid essay on Working Preacher which very much served to inspire this sermon and me. Death is truly in the air, but it does not have the final word.

[iii] Powery, E. (April 3, 2022). Commentary on John 12:1-8. Downloaded from https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fifth-sunday-in-lent-3/commentary-on-john-121-8-5  on April 1, 2022.

Many thanks to Professor Powery for his splendid essay on Working Preacher which very much served to inspire this sermon and me. Death is truly in the air, but it does not have the final word.

Unless otherwise indicated, all scripture quotations for this post are from the New Revised Standard Version (NRSV) translation.

© 2022 The Rev. Louis Florio. All content not held under another’s copyright may not be used without permission of the author.



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Always a Blessed Easter

CHRIST’S DESCENT INTO HELL, Nun Kassiane at the Holy Monastery of the Annunciation, at Patmos island.

I want to thank the many people that reached out to me or prayed for me and my family at the time of my mother’s death. Her death was not expected, and as can often prove the case, it was a difficult experience on many different levels. As I write, the trees in my yard are about to burst forth with green. Flowers are poking through the ground. Holy Week and Easter lie before us. I cannot explain why God allows suffering and death, but I trust the signs of springtime around us are herald signs of what is yet to come. We know from scripture – and perhaps upon reflection about the grace active in our own lives – that God has the power to bring healing from sorrow and new life from death. God is only love, and Jesus promises that we who believe will share in his resurrection joy. With the losses in my life and in the lives of many around me, both large and small, we might be tempted to see only struggle. Yet, a resurrection day was to come for Jesus beyond his cross. He promises that a resurrection day will come for us all. It has already begun through faith. I sincerely wish you a hope-filled Easter. Jesus is risen. He is risen indeed. I pray we all see the joy and peace of Jesus – even if for a moment we must see through tears in our eyes.

Peace be with you, and thank you, for walking with me toward Resurrection Day.

Pastor Lou

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Originally published in the April newsletter of Christ Lutheran Church, Fredericksburg, VA.

© 2021 The Rev. Louis Florio. All content not held under another’s copyright may not be used without permission of the author.

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Life Work

National Law Enforcement MemorialMany social scientists call the work of emergency responders and others in the medical field “death work.” This applies to the law enforcement community for many reasons. We certainly deal with a great deal of violence and death, but we also face it head on.

As the recent Law Enforcement Memorial Day reminds us, some within our calling will pay the ultimate price. Indeed, I never really stop thinking about my three coworkers[1] that died over the six years I was a police officer. They and other heroes who I never had the honor to know have somehow become a part of me.

Reflecting upon such loss, I believe the term “death work” proves quite the misnomer. For as the National Law Enforcement Officers Memorial reminds us, “It is not how these officers died that made them heroes, it is how they lived.” Their legacy continues to challenge, inspire and shape our service to the community whether still active in law enforcement or retired from it. When I meet current law enforcement officers, I think of the important “life work” they do without often realizing it – whether finding a lost autistic child, helping a domestic violence victim, comforting those experiencing loss or without hope, or seeking justice in a world that is too often unfair.

I remember a police officer in the town I grew up in who planted positive seeds in my life (a somewhat delinquent one at the time) just through conversation and simple kindness. I recall the valor of those who so rightly earned awards for heroic deeds. I recall as well the kindness of other officers done without fanfare as they provided diapers for young families without or shared their own lunch with the homeless. I have seen those arrested for acts that were quite inhumane, and yet they were treated with human dignity by the officers they claimed as enemies.

These kinds of experiences taught me that the vocation that is shared by law enforcement officers is a sacred one, a holy summons to nurture life and shed light in what can seem a dark world. The long shifts, the thankless tasks, the time away from family and friends are very real costs, but it isn’t without benefit or meaning. It is a death to oneself and one’s desires so that others might live. It is life giving work embodying the truth of Jesus’ words, “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends” (John 15:13).

Law enforcement is often a difficult life, but it is a life worth living and sharing with others.

[1] Two died in the line of duty and are listed at the National Law Enforcement Officers Memorial. A third died from an unknown congenital heart condition at home following a foot pursuit earlier that evening. A fourth died years later from medical complications after being shot while apprehending robbery suspects.

Originally written for the newsletter of the Hanover County (VA) Sheriff’s Office. 

Unless otherwise indicated, all scripture quotations for this article are from the New Revised Standard Version (NRSV) translation. This post was first published in The Messenger, the newsletter of Messiah Lutheran Church (June 2014). 

© 2014 The Rev. Louis Florio. All content not held under another’s copyright may not be used without permission of the author.

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Come, Lord Jesus, Come!

The following is a short sermon I preached to my congregation at Messiah Lutheran Church and School, on the Third Sunday of Advent, often called Gaudete (Rejoice) Sunday. Although our preschool students and elementary-agers were present to perform a joyous Christmas musical, the death and sadness of the last week, especially in Newtown, CT, could not be ignored.

As our last hymn [O come, O come, Emmanuel] reminds us[i], the Advent season is a time of waiting and expectation. The song is much like many others among our Advent hymns and even some of our more traditional Christmas carols. Many project a sense of sadness and longing. They can prove almost melancholy. Our hymn writers and liturgists – just like us – know the imperfections and pain of this world, and so we look toward Christ to deliver us. Our music, images, and prayers can reflect that sense of loss, waiting and hope. Being a Christian, I heard someone once say, is like being a person separated from their greatest love; something is missing, and not quite right. We hunger and thirst for that love to be one with us again, so that our lives can feel whole.

This week, we have been unhappily reminded of that truth. We lost our assistant to the bishop, Pastor “Chip” Gunsten, a dear friend of mine and many here at Messiah as well as throughout our synod, who died suddenly while undergoing treatment for cancer. We are not the only ones mourning, for our Catholic brothers and sisters lost their former beloved bishop, Walter Sullivan on the same day. He was someone I knew well, and he proved influential to my own discernment of service within the church. Our Presbyterian friends in Virginia lost one of their own leaders as well, Cynthia Bolboch, Moderator of the 219th General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) on December 12th.  Having many Presbyterian friends after attending a Presbyterian seminary, I shared in their own grief and sadness. As the week closed, I was tired and worn down from dealing with death and the many emotions that always accompany it. Then, we received the horrific, numbing news of Newtown, CT. People thousands of miles away shared in that community’s dread and grief and fearfully held their own loved ones closer.

How can we make sense of such things? I’m not sure that we can. Oh, as a Christian, I trust that God can use them – turn them on their head and make all things work for our good. I know blessings and signs of love can be found even amidst tragedy – perhaps especially at times of tragedy – through the heroes and servants shining in those times of darkness, or through the love that is shared with us to help us make it through. Yet, maybe we are never supposed to make sense of these things at all. It isn’t within our capabilities to make sense of the nonsensicle. The issues can be too involved for us to handle or beyond us. Maybe they just can’t ever make sense, because they are counter to what God wants for us. God’s will is to save us for a future full of hope, not to condemn us to an eternity of woe[ii]. God’s plan from the time of Adam and Eve was to redeem and save us out of love.[iii]

These sufferings are symptoms of that earlier wound. They are parts of our life as a fallen, imperfect people in a fallen, imperfect world. People sin. People suffer. People die. Uncontrollable evil and sadness do exist. Perhaps instead of looking back for answers as to why things happened, we should look forward. Our time is better spent in the face of such evil asking, “What would you have us do, Lord?”

Certainly, God never abandons us to this sorrow. God has a purpose and a plan which includes us. Jesus was sent into our world as a little child to share our life and lot; even our suffering unto death. God doesn’t rejoice at our destruction, but rather wants us to live abundantly through his only son.[iv] Jesus would become God’s final word on evil, sin and death. They have been defeated through his cross and resurrection, and we are saved here and now. Yet, sin and death are enjoying their final death throws at our expense. Jesus declares we are free from their power; saved even as we and creation might groan at times.[v]

In this present age, Jesus promises to come again to complete the work which he started and banish sin and death forever. There will be a new heaven and earth where suffering will be no more.[vi] In the meantime amidst our lingering troubles, he asks us to look up and be ready, not as a sullen or defeated people, but as his beloved people. Be ready, he says, so that our hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life, so that the day doesn’t catch us unexpectedly, like a trap.[vii]

No, we who are saved have a purposeful, divine work to do. We are left here – called to this time and this place – as his messengers speaking his words of love, healing and forgiveness; words so sorely needed in this wounded, combative world. Like the law and the prophets before him including John the Baptizer [viii], Jesus taught us what we need to do – love God with all we are and our neighbors as ourselves.[ix]

Today both despite our suffering and because of it, we are to speak these words and embody them. God uses us with all our weakness and imperfection to give them form and substance, flesh and bone, to make them real. We are echoes of Jesus crossing all the earth shouting, “Do not be afraid! Jesus has come! He is risen and will come again!” We are called to lovingly and boldly put these words into actions together as church…Christ’s church…his body…his hands reaching out and touching broken lives through our own.[x]

Today, we have also heard words that Paul spoke to Christians in Philippi when they were persecuted, broken and felt alone. These same words were shared with us yesterday at Pastor Gunsten’s funeral. Perhaps it is providential that the lectionary had them as one of our assigned texts considering recent events:

Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.  (Philippians 4: 4-7)

Rightly, Jesus is called Emmanuel, God with Us. We need not get stuck in our fear, hurt or anger. Look up! Raise your head! Do not be afraid! These are the words Jesus speaks to us in the face of our most unimaginable threats or losses. When the world and its realities rage, when struck by great sorrow, or when we cannot find reconciliation with others we so deeply long for, Jesus speaks to us as he did similarly to that storm long ago, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.”[xi]

This world can be a frightful, sad and lonely place, but we need not grieve as people without faith.[xii] We need not live as a people without love.[xiii] Despite any of our doubts, Christ’s peace and love are with us always[xiv], and we have a shared ministry to do in his holy name.[xv] His light is in our midst and shining through our hearts, and the darkness shall not overcome it.[xvi] Remember always that we are baptized – claimed and called, to be Christ and to serve Christ in the world.[xvii] We must never try to hide ourselves from the pain of this life and thus not truly live.[xviii]

We are Christ’s church, together with Jesus and thus never alone. He has come for us and will come again. Our longing will be vindicated. This truth is rightly celebrated at every moment and forever, but especially during Advent. We celebrate it this morning through our young people attending Messiah Lutheran School who have come to proclaim the story of Christ’s birth with us anew today.[xix] Amen.

Readings for the Third Sunday of Advent – December 16, 2012
Zephaniah 3:14-20
Isaiah 12:2-6
Philippians 4:4-7
Luke 3:7-18


[i] “O come, O come, Emmanuel, and ransom captive Israel, that mourns in lonely exile here until the Son of God appear. Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to you, O Israel. (Evangelical Lutheran Worship, Hymn 257, verse 1)

[xiv] In Mother Teresa and Brother Roger’s book called Seeking the Heart of God (1993), Brother Roger writes: “Four hundred years after Christ, a believer names Augustine lived in North Africa. He had experienced misfortunes, the death of his loved one. One day he was able to say to Christ: ‘Light of my heart, do not let me darkness speak to me.’ In his trials, St. Augustine realized that the presence of the Risen Christ had never left him; it was the light in the midst of his darkness.”

[xvii] At times of fear or doubt, Martin Luther is said to have reminded himself, “I am baptized”; a reminder that he was Christ’s called, claimed and sent child. His writings also indicate that we act as Jesus in the world, but also encounter Jesus in the least of these, those suffering and alone. Through their lives Jesus cries out to us for compassion.

[xix] Isaiah 11:6

The Funeral of the Rev. Paul "Chip" Gunsten by The Rev. David Delaney, Ph.D

The Funeral of the Rev. Paul “Chip” Gunsten by The Rev. David Delaney, Ph.D

Unless otherwise indicated, all scripture quotations for this article are from the New Revised Standard Version (NRSV) translation.

© 2012 The Rev. Louis Florio. All content not held under another’s copyright may not be used without permission of the author.

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