Sermons

John 1:43-51

The next day Jesus decided to go to Galilee. He found Philip and said to him, “Follow me.” Now Philip was from Bethsaida, the city of Andrew and Peter. Philip found Nathanael and said to him, “We have found him about whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote, Jesus son of Joseph from Nazareth.” Nathanael said to him, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Philip said to him, “Come and see.” When Jesus saw Nathanael coming toward him, he said of him, “Here is truly an Israelite in whom there is no deceit!” Nathanael asked him, “Where did you get to know me?” Jesus answered, “I saw you under the fig tree before Philip called you.” Nathanael replied, “Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!” Jesus answered, “Do you believe because I told you that I saw you under the fig tree? You will see greater things than these.” And he said to him, “Very truly, I tell you, you will see heaven opened and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of Man.”

The Word of God for the People of God.

Thanks be to God!

Please pray with me: O Holy God, we come before you with lots on our minds. Quiet our thoughts. Keep our attention on you. Speak a word to us. In Christ’s name I pray, Amen.

While I was an undergrad, I lived in South Philly with a few friends. My classes were on Mondays and Wednesdays, so on the other days, I worked at a thrift store. As in most places, we had regulars. There was the guy who would come in once a week, buy a hundred dollars worth of clothing, and sell it on the street in Center City. Another was a local named Theresa, who every day would come in from praying at the neighborhood Catholic Church and tell me the highlights of her prayers. Then there was Dora, just like the cartoon explorer. When I met her, she was in her late 70s. She immigrated from Spain in the 1980s and still had a very strong accent. She loved to walk me around the store by hand and tell me what I should price higher. Or if I were too busy, she would bring up the items and say, Mira, Mira. This is Spanish for see, see. Or look, look. This happened sometimes more than once a shift.

Dora passed a few years after I left the thrift store. And at her funeral, even her priest repeated in his sermon, Mira, Mira. Dora wanted everyone to see what she saw. She wanted everyone to be concerned with her concerns. She was a force of nature.

We hear this kind of invitation from Philip in our passage when he says, “Come and see.” I looked up a Spanish translation of our passage. I was hoping to see Mira, but it’s actually “Ven y ve.”

To get into our passage, we need to first hear what happens immediately beforehand.

It is also a call story. John the Baptist, while standing with two of his disciples, saw Jesus and exclaimed, “Look, here is the Lamb of God!”

John’s two disciples then follow. Jesus asks them, “What are you looking for?” They respond with, “Where are you staying?” and Jesus says to them, “Come and see.” They follow him and remain with him until the afternoon. Andrew, one of those former disciples, goes to find his brother, Simon, and says to him, “We have found the Messiah.” He brings Simon to Jesus, and Jesus says to him, “You are Simon son of John. You are to be called Peter.”

Today’s passage is another call story, and since we’re also in the season of Epiphany, we hear how God is revealed in a special way to Nathanael.

It opens with, “The next day, Jesus decided to go to Galilee.” He finds Philip who hails from Bethsaida. Like last week, lots of places are named. Philip finds Nathanael and says, “We have found the one whom Moses in the law and prophets wrote, Jesus, son of Joseph from Nazareth.” Once again, there is nothing especially unique about Philip’s description of Jesus. He’s the son of Joseph and is from Nazareth.

Nathanael, who hailed from Cana, a small village in Galilee, scoffs at the suggestion that Nazareth could produce the one promised by the Scriptures.

I can imagine this is how we can speak about others who live even in different neighborhoods in Philly. Like, really, Jesus is from Southwest Philly or from the Badlands in Fairhill? I don’t think so. Nothing good ever comes from there, only drugs and violence.

Philip, though, seems unphased. He simply says, “Come and see.” Ven y ve.

The power of first-hand experience seems to supersede arguments and assurances. For both Jesus and Philip, “come and see” is their signature mode of evangelism, of spreading the good news and recruiting followers.

We can also glean that God’s calling meets us where we are. Andrew gets a trusted recommendation from John the Baptist and spends a day with Jesus; Philip jumps aboard right away; and Nathanael engages in skeptical debate. In short, there’s no one right way to respond to God’s call. There’s plenty of room under the tent of discipleship, both for those ready to take the plunge and for those who'd rather put a toe in first.

When Jesus sees Nathanael, he remarks, “Here is truly an Israelite in whom there is no deceit!”

The description contrasts Nathanael with Jacob, who was renamed “Israel” (Gen 32:28–30) and was noted for his cunning and deceit in dealings with his father, Isaac, and his brother, Esau. While Jacob, the conniving father of the twelve tribes of Israel, wrestled with an angel and named the place of his wrestling Peniel, “the face of God,” Nathanael, a true Israelite, has seen the Son of God, the King of Israel.

Nathanael is a skeptic at first, and decides to sign on only after Jesus impresses him with apparently supernatural knowledge about Nathanael himself. Thus John paints a portrait of discipleship arising in various circumstances, in various ways, among people with various temperaments.

Philip and Jesus’ phrase— “Come and see” — stand out this week as a witness and a challenge. For both Andrew and Nathanael, and for many of us besides, second-hand reports just won’t do. We want to come and see for ourselves. For John, this is the primary mode of spreading the good news and growing the community of disciples — and we are wise to do the same.

If we were to invite a friend to experience the best of our congregation’s life and work with this simple, three-word invitation, “Come and see,” to what specifically would we invite them? A worship service, Food for Hope, maybe Bible Study? Where and when do we most vividly, experientially embody the Gospel we proclaim?

John helps us see that revelation almost always comes in steps. Every revelation raises additional questions. Recognition and confession do not require full understanding. John, Philip, and Nathanael grow into their confessions throughout John’s Gospel, as do all Jesus’ followers. Our coming to recognize God’s Messiah in our own time will take its own time. We live into and from what has been revealed to us by trusting that there is more than any one of us can take in.

Be open.

There’s always more.

Keep asking questions.

Ven y ve.

Come and see. Amen

Mark 1:4-11 

John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him, and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins. Now John was clothed with camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. He proclaimed, “The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals. I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.”

In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

The Word of God for the People of God.

Thanks be to God!

Please pray with me: O God of rushing waters, of quickness in forgiving sins, and tearing apart of the heavens, be with us on this damp morning. Transform us by your Spirit, remind us of our true names, and grant us the energy to go out and do your will. In Christ’s name I pray, Amen.

Happy Epiphany! We are in this season for the next five Sundays. All of our Scripture lessons relate to how God is revealed in Christ. Today’s passage is one of the more obvious ones, where God’s voice proclaims Jesus to be the Son and Beloved. 

This season also reminds me of how difficult and vulnerable it can be when sharing parts of your life. This is why there are terms like oversharing or trauma dumping. In the wrong context, a new friend can feel overwhelmed by you sharing all of the most difficult parts of your life over the course of three hours. For most, it’s a lot to carry. Yet, in other contexts, your complex and tragic stories are more than welcome to be shared. We must find people whom we trust and can lean on. I hope you have those kinds of people in your life and that it’s more than just one person. I am grateful to be part of this church, where we can share such vulnerable parts of our lives during the Prayers of the People, at Bible Study, and during Fellowship Hour. This is how we share life together.

Let’s move into our Scripture and hear how God is revealed through Christ Jesus.

There are three interweaving themes that stand out: place, name, and ritual.

Place is omnipresent in these eight verses. John the Baptizer, as Mark calls him, appears in the wilderness. Not in the middle of a city, or in a palace, or even on the outskirts of town. He appears in the wilderness, the place known in the Torah where the Hebrew people were led by God. It was a place of chaos and grace, of scarcity and abundance, of complaining and of gratefulness. John the Baptizer meets them there. 

And as we hear, the people show up. The country folk come out to see what’s going on, as well as those from the big city of Jerusalem. It didn’t matter their location, whether they farmed on someone else’s land, or if they worked in the Temple, or if they served in the Roman army. Mark paints this scene for us where I assume that the early hearers of the Gospel might be thinking to themselves, even those people were there?!? Shopkeepers from Jerusalem and the sheep herders from the hill country all gathered? 

Then, here comes Jesus. Mark introduced him as Jesus from Nazareth of Galilee. Nothing special, just his town and region. Not a healer, or Messiah, or even a prophet. Jesus from Nazareth of Galilee. 

Galilee, in the ancient world, was notorious. It sat at the most northern border and was regarded with contempt and suspicion by most southern Jews. Galilee was surrounded by Hellenistic Greek cities, populated heavily by Gentiles, predominantly poor, and was cut off from Judea by Samaria. If you can imagine with me, it could be how one could understand Alaska compared to the Continental US. You either have to drive through another country to get to Alaska or take a flight. It’s not that simple to get to. And can we trust that Alaska won’t try to buddy up with Canada and leave us? Possibly, this is how the ancient southern Jews understood Galilee. 

So basically, there was already a strike against Jesus when he showed up with his Galilean ID and accent.

Today, when you showed up, and before walking to find an open pew, you were invited to make a nametag. And hopefully, you wrote a name you want others to call you by. Names have power. We get embarrassed if we forget someone’s name after meeting them more than three times. We gently correct others who have been calling us the wrong name for the entirety of the conversation. And for others who change their names or who modify their names, it is a sign of respect and dignity that we follow their lead.

In our scripture lesson, we have John the Baptizer. This was, of course, a nickname. Just a quick side note: nicknames are abundant in the Gospels. I read there are forty nicknames used. It helped to identify people with similar names, like Judas and Judas Thomas. And it gave others a new identity, like Simon becoming Peter the Rock or James and John being called the Sons of Thunder. John the Baptizer’s name was so famous that Josephus, the Jewish Historian of the time, simply called him The Baptist.

At the end of our passage, God gives Jesus from Nazareth of Galilee a new name. As Jesus comes up out of the water, a descending dove rests on him, and he hears, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

At this moment, Jesus’ identity with his hometown takes a backseat as he is recognized by a new name and has been given a new identity. 

And this leads me right into rituals. We are a ritualized people. We have morning and evening rituals when to brush our teeth or take a shower. Some may have had pork and sauerkraut on New Year’s Day, and others may have eaten black-eyed peas. We structure our lives around rituals. They help give us meaning.

In the Christian tradition, we give them more weight and call them sacraments. Moments in the life of our community where we have been called by God to continue the tradition of baptism and communion. And during these sacraments, we understand them as signs of God’s grace. 

It was in the ritual of baptism that Jesus was named the Son and the Beloved. During our baptisms, we, too, are claimed as God’s beloved. Our names are overridden by God’s proclamation on our lives that we belong to God. That we are children of God. 

As we continue in these next weeks of Epiphany, we are going to have times when we share a bit more of our lives with one another. Maybe even today, you learned someone’s name or were reminded of it. I hope that you can participate during upcoming Fellowship Hours and during the service, so that we may grow to know one another more.

In our confession the Brief Statement of Faith, we declare that

The same Spirit

who inspired the prophets and apostles

rules our faith and life in Christ through Scripture,

engages us through the Word proclaimed,

claims us in the waters of baptism,

and feeds us with the bread of life and the cup of salvation. 

We have been claimed by God. We are beloved. May you live into this name by treating others with love and dignity. May you not only see the surface level of one’s place and name but also go deeper into their lives. And may you find rituals that will bring you closer to God. Blessed Epiphany. Amen.

Luke 2:22-40

When the time came for their purification according to the law of Moses, they brought him up to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord (as it is written in the law of the Lord, “Every firstborn male shall be designated as holy to the Lord”),

and they offered a sacrifice according to what is stated in the law of the Lord, a pair of turtledoves or two young pigeons.” 

Now there was a man in Jerusalem whose name was Simeon; this man was righteous and devout, looking forward to the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit rested on him. It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that

he would not see death before he had seen the Lord’s Messiah. Guided by the Spirit, Simeon came into the temple; and when the parents brought in the child Jesus, to do for him what was customary under the law, Simeon took him

in his arms and praised God, saying, “Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace, according to your word;

for my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel.” And the child’s father and mother were amazed at what was being said about him. Then Simeon blessed them and said to his mother Mary, 

“This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed—and a sword will pierce your own soul too.”

There was also a prophet, Anna the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was of a great age, having lived with her husband seven years after her marriage, then as a widow to the age of eighty-four. She never left the temple but worshiped there with fasting and prayer night and day. At that moment she came, and began to praise God and to speak about the child to all who were looking for the redemption of Jerusalem.

When they had finished everything required by the law of the Lord, they returned to Galilee, to their own town of Nazareth. The child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom; and the favor of God was upon him.

Please pray with me: O Holy God, we gather to hear your Word for us. After many of us had a quiet work week, may we come into 2024 filled with wonder, curiosity, and openness to you. In Christ’s name, I pray, Amen.

Christmas is the season for wonder and amazement. There are 12 days of Christmas, as the song goes, which leads up to the season of Epiphany when the Magi visit the infant Jesus, and we will also hear of moments of the divine

revelation of Christ in the Gospels.

While in Advent we prepare our hearts for the first and second coming of Jesus Christ. During these dozen days of Christmas, our Scripture passages help us wonder, be amazed, and even ponder.

On Christmas, the shepherds were full of amazement after seeing the Christ child and proclaimed to everyone they encountered about it, and they, too, were amazed.

The verse following the shepherd's return to the fields says that Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart.

In the birth story from Matthew’s Gospel, there’s a guiding star that sends the Magi from the East to search for the new king of the Jews. Everyone is filled with wonder! Gentiles are even seeing new stars in the sky. When, though, was the last time you experienced wonder?

Wonder usually happens to me when I’m in a new place, and my senses are on high alert. On Friday evening, Meagen and I went to a spa across from NYC in Edgewater, NJ. It was very relaxing! Afterward, we went to a local Italian place. The entire meal was amazing and full of flavor. But even more so, from where I was sitting, I had this perfect view of the entire restaurant. When I realized that I was overcome with a sense of wonder, gratitude, and joy. I could see back to the kitchen, where the chefs and dishwashers were laughing and smiling. I saw servers embrace regular customers with hugs. There was a birthday party for a 10-year-old, and her extended family of more than 30 came out. I felt so alive at that moment. My senses were on overload.

But still, I was trying to find a little inspiration from the internet of stories about wonder; Google came up with pages and pages of children’s books and very few illustrations for adults. As we grow older, it’s true that we can become jaded and cynical, and some of us can be downright nihilistic. That nothing in this world, or with our families or friends, will ever change or get better. As if we are living that quote from the movie Her when Joaquin Phoenix’s character says: “Sometimes I think I have felt everything I'm ever gonna feel. And from here on out, I'm not gonna feel anything new. Just lesser versions of what I've already felt.”

And in a way, we have a right to be cynical. People are being bombed. No one seems to be doing anything to stop it. There are mass civilian causalities in many countries, from the Middle East to the Congo. It feels like no one is in charge, and peace seems impossible. How can we not feel a little jaded? When is God going to tear open the heavens and set everything right before one more child is killed?

We must keep praying and do our best to advocate for peace and to care for our neighbors. Yet, we can also be open to wonder and amazement. Both of these things can be true for us.

Our Scripture takes place eight days after Jesus’ birth. While Jesus was born in Bethlehem, Mary and Joseph made the trek 6 miles southeast to Jerusalem since they were faithful followers of the Torah and dedicated their firstborn child to God, and this would’ve also been the time when Jesus was circumcised.

We hear, too, that Mary and Joseph offered a sacrifice to the Lord of either a pair of turtledoves or two young pigeons. It’s not clear which one it was, and it doesn’t really matter. What does matter is that usually, this type of sacrifice was a lamb, but because Mary and Joseph did not have the funds for one, they offered up the birds.

After the sacrifice, they run into a righteous and devout man named Simeon.

He has waited his entire life for this moment. God’s Spirit had revealed to him that he would not die until he had seen the child Messiah. Simeon had been guided by the Spirit that day to go to the Temple. And here’s where baby Jesus starts to be passed around. Into Simeon’s arms the Christ child is held. He not only gets to see God incarnate, but he gets to hold him. What joy, what amazement must he have felt!

If only there had been a photographer there that day! Imagine a close-up: Simeon’s hands, gnarled with arthritis, age spots, bony fingers gently cradling the infant’s head; eyes meeting; smile unfolding across the wise elder’s face—a beautiful exchange under any circumstances, made even more wondrous because of those involved and the Spirit’s presence guiding them all.

Simeon then proclaims a praise song to God. He sings of his gratefulness that he has seen God’s Messiah. He calls Jesus God’s salvation, and that he has been prepared for all peoples, both Gentiles and Jews.

It’s easy for us to hear such statements now, but I wonder about the gravity of such words. They are in the Temple with a majority of Jewish followers, and Simeon is singing of salvation for all people. I wonder what kinds of faces people were making as they heard this brave song. I wonder if Simeon’s voice was shaking or if it was as strong as ever.

Our Scripture continues to say that Mary and Joseph were amazed at what was being said about Jesus. They knew that Jesus was special; not every day does a baby have their birth announced by angels. But their amazement in this verse makes me think that they, too, are still coming to grips with who this child is.

Simeon then says to Mary, “This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed—and a sword will pierce your own soul too.”

Notice the order. In the world, we usually talk about the rise and fall. The rise and fall of the business tycoon, the rise and fall of a movie star. But with Jesus it’s fall and rise. Jesus will say in John’s Gospel, “Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit” (John 12:24). Just as in baptism, we die with Christ and are risen with him.

The baby Jesus is then passed to the prophet Anna. She has never left the temple and worshiped there with fasting and prayer night and day. At that moment, she came and began to praise God and to speak about the child to all who were looking for the redemption of Jerusalem.

The prophet Anna is a witness too to God’s salvation in the flesh. In these post-Christmas days, it is good to stop and savor Jesus’ infancy, to ponder the new thing God is doing, and to rest a bit in the sweetness of this temple scene. 

Plenty more is coming down the road. For now, it is good to pause, admire the picture Luke offers, and, like Simeon 

and Anna, to give God our praise. Amen.

John 1:6-8, 19-28

There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light.

This is the testimony given by John when the Jews sent priests and Levites from Jerusalem to ask him, “Who are you?” He confessed and did not deny it, but confessed, “I am not the Messiah.” And they asked him, “What then? Are you Elijah?” He said, “I am not.” “Are you the prophet?” He answered, “No.” Then they said to him, “Who are you? Let us have an answer for those who sent us. What do you say about yourself?”

He said:

“I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness,

‘Make straight the way of the Lord,’ ”

as the prophet Isaiah said:

Now they had been sent from the Pharisees. They asked him, “Why then are you baptizing if you are neither the Messiah, nor Elijah, nor the prophet?” John answered them, “I baptize with water. Among you stands one whom you do not know, the one who is coming after me; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandal.” This took place in Bethany across the Jordan where John was baptizing.

The Word of God for the People of God.

Thanks be to God!

Please pray with me: O God tune us to your Word this morning. Hold our focus. Open our hearts and minds. Help us to be your witnesses. In Christ’s name I pray. Amen. 

I’m in my third-year preaching through the lectionary. The lectionary is a three-year cycle of Scripture readings that, in theory, if you came every Sunday for three years, you’ll hear nearly every verse from the four Gospels. So, I’m now at the point where I’m starting to see repeat passages. And when I re-read the sermon I preached in 2020, it no longer relates to our current situation. Our services were on Zoom, there was no vaccine yet, and I was always happy to have the 25 or so who joined from their homes. Things are just a bit different now. 

I once asked my mentor why he never thought about publishing his sermons. They were always creative and seemed relevant. He told me that sermons have an expiration date, and you never want to hear or read a spoiled sermon. I now know exactly what he meant. 

The world has changed and continues to change. This goes for our church, our families, our friendships, and our neighborhoods. And that’s okay. Even as we continue in this season of waiting, life isn’t at a standstill. Nothing is static around us. 

Lately, I’ve been getting into this writer, Jan Patocka, a Czech philosopher, who writes in a similar vein as Dietrich Bonhoeffer. He emphasizes that it’s movement that is bound up in life. To be fixed or inactive means death. For the human condition, he wrote in an essay called “In Care for the Soul”: 

“Human being remains suspended in movement between person and soul, part and whole, finite and eternal, necessity and possibility, and the movement between these poles is something that the individual must constantly reenergize, must tend, and nurture.”

We believe this movement, this activity first began with God, and continued with Christ, and we can see the Spirit swirling in and around our lives now. We can be patient in our waiting for Christ’s Second Coming and his incarnational arrival as a baby, but we have been reminded these last few weeks to keep awake, stay alert, pay attention. God is already on the move, we are invited to follow God on this mission.

In our passage, the movement language is pronounced. 

God sent John to be a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe. 

Sent, testify, believe. 

The uniqueness of John’s character in the Fourth Gospel has everything to do with the theological theme of witness. The noun form of “witness” in the Greek alone is used fourteen times in the Gospel. The figure we know as John the Baptist from the Synoptic Gospels, that is Matthew, Mark, and Luke, is never called the Baptist in John’s Gospel, but is the witness. He will be the one to testify or witness to the light.

It's not that John doesn’t baptize, he does, but that is not what defines him. John is the Witness, the one who testifies to the light, in the Fourth Gospel.

At our Tuesday evening Bible Study, we discussed what it means to testify to the light today. Some said that it was about sharing the Good News of Jesus Christ. Others said that it was about sharing the light by having a cheerful attitude. Smile, God loves you. Still, others said it was about our outreach ministries like Food for Hope and our Children’s Ministry. 

I think it’s a combination of all of them. It’s about being authentic in who you are, in who God made you, and being authentic in your faith. I think we’ve all had some interaction with those who confess Christ as Lord but are also really good at making fast food workers or any service worker feel small. It’s a low bar, I mean, it’s a really low bar, to treat people with an ounce of dignity. Please know that people pay attention to your witness, not only your words but your actions.

There’s a gravity to your witness.

John’s witness, in the passage, was challenged by the priests and Levites from Jerusalem. As we hear, John is being interrogated, not by the River Jordan, but in the town of Bethany. They ask him point blank, “Who are you?” John said that he was not the Messiah. And then they start to read down a list of people they think he could be: Elijah or the prophet. 

The three roles—Messiah, Elijah, prophet—are all “final” figures expected to lead and teach Israel and to gather the tribes of Israel together. John fulfills none of these roles but as we heard “the voice of one crying in the wilderness, ‘Make straight the way of the Lord.’” This self-designation underscores John’s role as witness. His importance is captured in what he says about Jesus, so that others might recognize Jesus and follow him. As the ancient theologian Origen put it in his commentary, John is “the voice pointing out the Word”; John is the voice, but Jesus is the speech (Comm. John 2.26).

Just as John knew who he was in relation to who Christ was, we must claim our identity, especially remembering that we are not Christ but witnesses to him. Our role in our time is, like John’s role in his time, to confess who we are not and proclaim the One to whom we testify. 

The faithful response to and moral imperative of this text may be succinctly found in the words of the song, “This little light of mine, I’m going to let it shine.” We have a responsibility both to be persons who reflect the light of Christ and to live in such a way that our lives proclaim the light of Christ in the world.

Our passage, although it may not seem like it, is a signature Advent text, as it reminds careful readers that the first witness to Jesus arrived on the earthly scene before Jesus did. He arrived not to get everything decorated and everyone ready for Christmas, but to “prepare the way of the Lord” (Isa. 40:3). 

He came to “bear witness” to the coming Light of God, 

reminding all who would listen that the forces in the world are not as powerful as they appear. 

He came to bear witness that the most enchanting words spoken by these forces lose their charm when measured against the “Word [who] became flesh and lived among us… full of grace and truth” (John 1:14).

May you wear your witness this week for all to see. 

May you show love and kindness as you testify to the light. 

May you embrace the movement God has begun in you and in this church as we await Christ’s coming. Amen.

Mark 1:1-8

Taylor:  The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. As it is written in the prophet Isaiah, “See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way; the voice of one crying out in the wilderness: ‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight,’ ”

John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him, and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins. Now John was clothed with camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. He proclaimed, “The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals. I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.”

Taylor: The Word of God for the People of God 

All: Thanks be to God

Timothy: Please pray with me:  O God who gives us comfort and stirs us up. You guide us by still waters and protect us as we go through valleys in the shadow of death. Be with us this morning as we reflect on your Word. Stir up hope and peace within us this week. In Christ’s name, I pray, Amen. 

Taylor: We are in the thick of the Advent season. And sometimes, if you’re like me, you want everything to go as smoothly as possible. You have the entire month mapped out. The tree must be put up and decorated before the end of the first weekend. The apartment door must be donned with a Christmas wreath, and each week in December you listen to a little more Christmas music than the week before. Our spirits must be like a balloon released outside, rising higher and higher. 

Timothy: Yet, we know that life can sometimes deflate our balloons with the cold winds of tragedy and despair. David Schad, who was a wonderful person and active church member, died this time last year. And I’m sure if we’d go around the church, we could all share the kinds of loss we’ve encountered this time of year. And doesn’t that seem like how it always goes? We want perfection and are wrecked when it’s not. We desire joy, and here comes disappointment.

Taylor: Our passages this morning reflect this kind of tension: the comforting words of the Prophet Isaiah and the Gospel of Mark’s words of challenge.

Timothy: I’ll begin with the comfort.

I can imagine the Prophet Isaiah proclaiming loudly at the top of this chapter, “Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and cry to her that she has served her term, that her penalty is paid, that she has received from the Lord’s hand double for all her sins.”

Isaiah spoke to a people who had been in exile for 70 years, away from the places they held so dear. The Babylonian Empire, 587 years before Jesus, forcefully removed the people of Judah away from their neighborhoods and towns, away from their places of worship, and destroyed the Temple that Solomon had built centuries before. They became refugees in what is present-day Iraq, and we can hear them wrestle with their identity throughout the Hebrew Bible. 

Those in exile felt abandoned by God; just read the Book of Lamentations if you don’t believe me. And now the exile is over, the Persian Empire defeated the Babylonians and the exiles can now return home. And the first word rolling off of Isaiah’s tongue is comfort. 

The word comfort appears all throughout the Hebrew Bible, but it’s a little misleading in contemporary English. For us, comfort is soothing. It eases our pain and makes us feel better. The Hebrew word used here, nachamu, is more like the Old English understanding: come fort. To strengthen and encourage. It instills a sense of security. God is saying, "Encourage my people. In the middle of their discouragement, give them courage. Speak tenderly to them. Speak to their hearts. I want to deliver them."

Taylor:  Here’s the challenge: John the Baptist was born into the same world into which Jesus was born. They were born, too, into the same family. Mary, mother of Jesus had a cousin, Elizabeth, who mothered this John the Baptist we see in our Gospel lesson today. John is the baby who lept within Elizabeth’s womb when Mary ran to see her upon accepting her role as the Mother of God. Elizabeth is the first person to confess Jesus as the Messiah in that very moment her cousin Mary shows up at her door. 

This world that welcomed Jesus and John was getting ravaged by violent Empire. People were forcibly displaced by military might, at the hands of rulers who thought themselves to be gods. This world maybe, not too unfamiliar to us and the world in which we live. There are so many ways we respond to such a world. Some of us willfully ignore the violence, pretend it isn’t happening. Some of us attempt to self-soothe in ways that actually harm us. Some of us even side with the violence because we’ve become convinced the violence is the only way to keep us safe. 

And here is John the Baptist—- responding to his world by living in the wilderness, making some bold choices in the realms of diet and fashion, but most importantly— handing out baptisms for the forgiveness of sins, and announcing the impending arrival of someone who will do much greater things than John himself does. Am I the only one who finds this sort of response to violence sort of… weird?

Timothy: Come fort and encouragement can sometimes be challenging to come by. I mean an encouragement without an agenda. We’ve probably all been given compliments in a slant kind of way. Usually, the person thinks they can do better, so they offer a pity compliment after you’ve already done the thing. And then they usually tell you how they would’ve done it differently.

 But when there is genuine encouragement, it can change your life. In my second year at seminary, I felt rather beaten down by life. I was working at my field education placement as the pastoral intern, but also as the volunteer coordinator for the homeless shelter at the church. And I was striking out trying to get people to volunteer to stay overnight. So, anytime someone canceled, I would take their place and stay over. Lights out at 11 and lights up at 6am. I still had a full class schedule, too. It was all rather miserable.

 But this opportunity popped up. I met Colleen, an alum of  Union who coordinated the preaching schedule for the 8am chapel service on Sundays at Riverside Church. This cathedral has a long history of great preachers, and I wanted to be part of it. Not that I would be behind a pulpit or anything (we all sat in a cirlce), but that I could at least say that I preached at this beautiful and historic church.

 So, I got on the calendar for early February. The sermon only needed to be 5 minutes long, and I worked on it meticulously all week. Every word was in its place. And then… I got a text on Saturday afternoon from a volunteer saying that he had a family emergency. I frantically started texting other volunteers, but no one could do it. Of course, I stayed the night, but because I was so worried about everything going right the next morning, I barely slept. After I got the guys out at 6, I walked back to campus and tried to take a quick cat nap, to freshen me up. And I’m sure you can guess what happened: I slept through the entire thing.

 I emailed Colleen, apologizing profusely. I was embarrassed and mad at myself for missing this kind of opportunity. You what happened?... She actually stopped by Union that afternoon looking for me. She greeted me with a big hug and said that things happen, that she’s glad I’m okay, and that she can see what a beautiful gift God has given me, and we found another time for me to preach at Riverside. And I did, and then three more times after that.

 Colleen’s encouragement gave me strength. She was like how God is described in verse 11 of chapter 40.

Like a shepherd, you feed your flock, Gathering the lambs and holding them close, And leading mother sheep with gentleness.

 God bless Colleen.

Taylor: So here we have John the Baptist—- an absolute freak dressed up in a camel pelt and most likely malnourished from just eating bugs dipped in honey— delivering a message that he is offering baptism in water for the forgiveness of sins. Challenging people to get in the river and start to begin again in a world that would prefer they kept going on with business as usual. Personally, this is not the picture of a man I’d imagine to offer me such a thing. Can I really be forgiven by a man with locust legs stuck in his teeth? 

But isn’t that just like God— speaking through the unexpected, inviting us into one hard thing after another, but promising something even greater after we take that risk to wade through all that muck on the river bed. Isn’t that just like God— born into the unexpecting and ill-prepared world. 

When I moved to Princeton last August, I knew I would change and be changed by this process. But I promise you, I was ill-prepared for the areas of my life that God would transform, and the changes I would need to make in light of God’s work within me. Some context: 

Prior to discerning I should apply to Seminary in 2020, I had been unchurched for a decade, despite going to church every week for the first 18 years of my life. It’s a very long story, but here is the reader’s digest version: 

In my first semester, I read Genesis 1 and 2 as part of my Hebrew Bible class, and in my Speech in Ministry class I worked with psalm 139 the entire semester. Even having grown up hearing these creation stories, and hearing frequently the words of psalm 139 that tell me I am “fearfully and wonderfully made” —- I read these three passages with brand new eyes and considered for the first time that maybe they are true. 

Maybe I am “very good” as Genesis 1 tells me. Maybe it’s not good for me, just one human, to be alone as Genesis 2 tells me. Maybe God knew me before anyone else knew me and better than I even know myself; maybe she made me on purpose as Psalm 139 tells me. And maybe it sounds silly but believe me when I tell you— this was all news to me. And with this new knowledge—- I had to change. I still have to change; I am still changing. 

I mean— I have to figure out, after digesting this new information of my very goodness and my well known-ness, both of which come from God— I have to figure out how to live like I know that now.  I am figuring out how to live like I was made good, wonderful even, and made that way on purpose by a God who refuses to abandon me no matter how hard I try to run. Talk about a challenge I wasn’t expecting. 

Timothy:  Here’s what I want you to remember about comfort. Often, we may attach ideas of comfort to what we think of as creature comforts. Maybe you always have your favorite snack around, or you fall asleep to your favorite comfort TV shows. It’s Frasier for those who are wondering.

 The comfort that the Prophet Isaiah proclaims is to a people who have been kicked to the ground and kicked some more. They need these comforting words. Most of us, not saying none of us, are not in this same kind of situation. Comfort sometimes comes too easy for us. And hopefully, that’s what older generations wanted for their kids, grandkids, and great-grandkids. You don’t want them to go through the same struggles as you did; you want life to be a little softer for them.

 What I hear from this passage is that we need encouragement accompanied by actions of love. It’s too easy to complain about others when the hard thing is to swallow your pride and get to know the life story of a person you’re annoyed at. It’s too easy to tell others what they should’ve done when maybe you could’ve walked alongside them, collaborating the entire time.

 God is saying, "Encourage, encourage my people. In the middle of their discouragement, give them courage. Speak tenderly to them. Speak to their hearts. I want to deliver them."

Taylor: This is what I want you to remember about today’s prophetic challenge: it may come to you in the unexpected, and in that sense, it really is tempting to ignore. It might come with new information— shocking information, even, from a person you aren’t even all that fond of, and most likely wouldn’t want to be seen with. And that new information might seem silly, or like a no-brainer, or maybe even impossible. And the task laid out before in light of this new information might feel all that much more impossible: 

That task being: step into the river. Sink into the clay til your ankles are covered. Wash away the old story— the one in which you were irredeemable. And then, an even more difficult task: look ahead, look forward—- see there, on the horizon—- someone even greater than the one who delivered this information and set forth this task—- someone greater than him is coming. And if you think you were washed clean in water today— just wait til you’re baptized in the Holy Spirit.

Because now, in this River, you are being changed as a passive recipient. But soon, you’re going to have to be an active participant in that change. I’m not saying it isn’t scary. It’s scary. I’m just a person, I’m not an angel, I have no right telling you to not be afraid. But what I am saying is this: change doesn’t exist in a vacuum. We aren’t asked to change alone. We aren’t challenged by the prophetic without the support of God’s Holy Spirit sent with us as our Advocate to be with us in every moment, with every step. We aren’t asked to figure it out ourselves. We are asked to figure it out with God, and with one another.

John tells us: someone greater than me is coming. Step into the River. Get ready.

Timothy: During this Advent season, may we encourage one another. Lighting the candles of hope and peace within our hearts and spreading it around. 

Taylor: May we dare to do difficult things knowing that God will go with us. Whether we find ourselves on a highway in the wilderness or walking down the street, may God’s grace guide us this season. 

Together, say: May we be a comfort and strength to those around us, in our church, and in this community. Amen.

Mark 13:24-37

But in those days, after that suffering, the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will be falling from heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken. Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in clouds’ with great power and

glory. Then he will send out the angels, and gather his elect from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of heaven.

“From the fig tree learn its lesson: as soon as its branch becomes tender and puts forth its leaves, you know that summer is near. So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that he is near, at the very gates. Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all these things have taken place. Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.

But about that day or hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. Beware, keep alert; for you do not know when the time will come. It is like a man going on a journey, when he leaves home and puts his slaves in charge, each with his work, and commands the doorkeeper to be on the watch. Therefore, keep awake—for you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or at dawn, or else he may find you asleep when he comes suddenly. And what I say to you 

I say to all: Keep awake.”

The Word of God for the People of God.

Thanks be to God!

Please pray with me: O Loving God, prepare our hearts this morning as we enter into the season of Advent. Humble us, say a word to us, and give us the courage to continue your mission. In Christ’s name I pray, Amen.

We have officially entered a new year in the Christian Calendar! Happy New Year to you all! What does it mean exactly? The biggest change you’ll notice is our Gospel focus. For the last year, which was Year A, we read mostly from the Gospel of Matthew, and now our focus will be on Mark and John’s Gospels. We also start our New Year as the days become darker and darker. During Advent, which literally means arrival, we prepare our hearts for Christ’s first and second coming, not in the brightness of summer or in the hope of spring,

but in the cold darkness of winter. As you will notice, our Gospel lessons will bounce between Jesus’ first coming as a baby and, like today’s lesson about Christ’s apocalyptic return.

As we enter the season of Advent, this is a perfect time for us to name what Advent is all about: entering the shadows of despair, war, sorrow, and hate, and actively waiting for Jesus to come, lighting candles of hope, peace, joy, and love.

Jesus enters in the shadows of our lives, here and now. He welcomes our despair and gives us a hand to hold and a shoulder to cry on.

And once we have entered the shadows, both intellectually and emotionally, we can proclaim the good news, the hope that rings out when all seems lost. The essence of the apocalypse, the point of what is “revealed,” is that God is on the way!

Our passages from the Prophet Isaiah and the Gospel of Mark speak of a desire for God’s return. A desire in a way that we’ve never been able to shake. There are always apocalypses happening, of death and destruction, of wars and rumors of wars, of disease, famine, and us yelling to demand God to tear open the heavens and bring the reign of peace.

I heard this sentiment in the movie Are You There, God? It’s me, Margaret, which I saw over the summer. At a pivotal point in the film, Margaret’s mom asks her after another exhausting day: It gets tiring trying so hard all the time, doesn't it?

This last year can feel like it happened quickly for some or was drawn out, and we cannot wait for it to end. In our congregation, we’ve had some go into the hospital a few times, others bursting with new job positions and pregnancies, others got into grad school, and others still have a new place to call home, although they miss the home they had for decades, some are still struggling with medical issues while others are finally feeling like they have things under control.

Yet, we all come together here, no matter what our last year was like. We come to quiet our hearts and minds and listen for God’s voice in the midst of our busy, complex lives.

Let’s get into our scriptures.

The Prophet Isaiah spoke at a time after the Jewish people had been exiled in Babylon. They returned home to Judah, but something still didn’t feel right. Starting in chapter 40, there is this shift in tone in Isaiah’s prophecies. They change from “Here I am Lord” and a peaceable kingdom to a God who needs to comfort us and that our lives are like dry grass. In today’s passage, which is two chapters from the end of the book, Isaiah cries out, “O that you would tear open the heavens and come down.”

Isaiah wants God to shake up the world literally with mountain shaking.

Yet, Isaiah notes that From ages past, no one has heard, no ear has perceived, no eye has seen any God besides you, who works for those who wait.

We are still waiting, looking for God to tear open the heavens and give us a rude awakening. Sometimes, we wonder, as Isaiah does, if we’ve done something wrong. And that’s why God hasn’t torn through the heavens yet.

I had a conversation with a new acquaintance who told me that she used to be able to hear God’s voice clearly, but now it feels muted, and she doesn’t know if she’s on the right path in her life. And she feels like she did something wrong to deserve this. The conversation lasted for two more hours. People still feel they must do right to deserve God’s love and grace.

Thankfully, we can remind ourselves with passages like from Romans 8 and hear that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

We wait in Advent but can also lean on these promises from God.

In the Gospel of Mark, we hear a tearing of the heavens and a disruption of what is expected: the sun will go dark, and stars will fall out of the sky. The Son of Man will come in glory as he gathers the faithful for the north, south, east, and west.

Jesus gives an analogy of a fig tree and how we pay attention to this tree in different seasons. And how we should pay attention to the signs all around us.

Jesus ends with, “Therefore, keep awake—for you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or at dawn, or else he may find you asleep when he comes suddenly. And what I say to you I say to all: Keep awake.”

We must be watchful and alert over the days and weeks ahead, cultivating a mindful attentiveness to signs of hope and wonder. 

May you find time this season to slow down. To not be glued to a screen, but to notice God’s good creation, to wander in conversations with people you usually wouldn’t, to get back into good habits that uplift you spiritually. Keep awake. The heavens are tearing at the seams. God is on the way! Prepare your hearts and minds! Amen.

John 14:1-14

Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also. And you know the way to the place where I am going.” Thomas said to him, “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?” Jesus said to him, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. If you know me, you will know my Father also. From now on you do know him and have seen him.”

Philip said to him, “Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied.” Jesus said to him, “Have I been with you all this time, Philip, and you still do not know me? Whoever has seen me has seen the Father. How can you say, ‘Show us the Father’? Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me? The words that I say to you I do not speak on my own; but the Father who dwells in me does his works. Believe me that I am in the Father and the Father is in me; but if you do not, then believe me because of the works themselves. Very truly, I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these, because I am going to the Father. I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Father may be glorified in the Son. If in my name you ask me for anything, I will do it.

The Word of God for the People of God!

Thanks be to God!

Please pray with me: O God of many, many rooms, guide us this morning as we discern your Word together. Open the rooms of our hearts and minds that need to be freshened up. Give us hope today and every day. In Christ’s name, I pray, Amen. 

We’ve had one beautiful and busy week at church. Joyce and Miss Sue provided a delicious spread of Sloppy Joes for our First Tuesday Community Meal. If you can believe it, this was the tenth month we hosted it!. Afterward, we had Bible Study, which focused on today’s Gospel lesson. 

Then we had our All Committees Meeting on Thursday, and for better or worse, there were so many things to discuss that Christian Life and Property and Finance did not wrap it up until 8:30. 

On Friday, we had eight children attend Jesus and Me Children’s Ministry. Freda taught them about Noah and the flood. They ate hot dogs, constructed their own arks in teams, and were playfully quizzed about what happened in the bible story. They all mostly paid attention. 

Of course, yesterday was the Craft Fair and Flea Market. Yvonne found and organized more vendors than we had in the fall. It was an all-around success!

Today, we gather, first of all, to worship our ever-loving and ever-present God, reflect on the last week, and prepare our hearts for what’s ahead. We are hopefully reenergized, gain some clarity about our faith, and maybe even learn a little something from the Bible. 

It is a joy to be around faithful people, you all, who desire their faith to grow and want to have an impact in our neighborhood.

The fall after I graduated undergrad, I took a job as the Youth and Family Ministries Coordinator at a Methodist Church in Havertown. I was there for two years, and all of the youth were in middle school. I was able to try out different ways to convey faith and the Bible to them. On the first week of our Parables of Jesus lessons, I gave the youth different short parables to sketch them and share with the group. I‘ll never forget what happened. The youth got stuck up on Jesus beginning each of the parables with “The kingdom of God is like” or as Matthew tells it “The kingdom of heaven is like.” And you know what they all drew? Each one of their illustrated parables was surrounded by heavenly clouds. I can still visualize the parable of the mustard seed and how this kid drew the mustard plant overtaking a cloud.

I was kind of shocked by this. So patiently over the next six months, I showed them how parables are illustrations that are not about some future time or were concerned with life everlasting. Rather parables were ordinary, everyday life examples for those in the first century and we can glean their meaning for us today. By the end, I think they got it or they just wanted to appease me. 

We did a similar activity on Tuesday evening after our meal. I asked the 25 people present to draw what they believed “In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places,” or in the King James Version, “In my Father’s house there are many mansions.” What means to them. They used their biblical imaginations to figure it out. And you know what happened? Lots of people drew clouds. 

So let me share a little about what I learned this week about this passage. 

In King James’ day, a “mansion” was a room, not a huge, fancy house. Today most translations say “many dwelling places” (NRSV), or “plenty of room,” as Today's New International Version Bible translation puts it. 

My father’s house does not necessarily mean heaven. Heaven is not mentioned once in the whole chapter. Jesus speaks out of the context of the Hebrew Bible. Throughout the Hebrew Bible, the Lord’s “house” or “dwelling place” is an immensely rich idea. It essentially means the place or places where God’s presence is manifest. Often in the Psalms God’s “house” or “dwelling” is the temple in Jerusalem. Other times it refers to all of creation or even the whole universe. Other Psalms describe God as our “dwelling place” (Ps 90:1, 91:9).

The point is: God’s “house” or “dwelling place” is wherever God is, 

wherever God’s presence is made evident 

and wherever God’s will is done. 

Perhaps the meaning of John 14:2 is, “There is plenty of room with God.”

These comforting words were given to the disciples on the evening of the Last Supper according to John. The disciples were distraught — and understandably so! From their point of view, here is the Messiah, the one they believed would deliver them, the one on whom they had pinned their hopes and all their lives on— and now he’s leaving? Not only leaving — now he’s going to suffer, to be humiliated, desecrated, vanquished? And his disgrace — in the end, wouldn’t it amount to their disgrace as well? No wonder they’re disoriented, wide-eyed, and afraid. Thomas says out loud what they’re all thinking: “How can we know the way?”

Jesus responds with “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. If you know me, you will know my Father also.”

At its heart, this is a passage of consolation, of Jesus reassuring dismayed disciples — then and now — that he isn’t abandoning them. He will not leave them orphaned. His remark, “No one comes to the Father except through me” is intended to calm and console his friends, to give them “peace” in the midst of turmoil. He’s saying, Don’t worry: I’m leaving, but we’ll still be together. Just keep going toward God in the Way we’ve been traveling, and I’ll be with you — for I am the Way! I am the Divine Logos! As long as you’re going toward God, you’ll be going “through” and with me.

Continue to trust God and know that the Father’s house is here now, although sometimes it doesn’t feel like it.

If I would illustrate what the Father’s house looked like this week, I would include our community meal, our planning together, the children playing, and us showing love to our neighborhood. 

May you find the many rooms of the Father’s house at your workplaces and schools, with your family, friends, and strangers, and may you even introduce others to these beautiful, loving, and compassionate rooms of God. Amen.

Luke 24:13-35

Now on that same day two of them were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, and talking with each other about all these things that had happened. While they were talking and discussing, Jesus himself came near and went with them, but their eyes were kept from recognizing him. And he said to them, “What are you discussing with each other while you walk along?” They stood still, looking sad. Then one of them, whose name was Cleopas, answered him, “Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have taken place there in these days?” He asked them, “What things?” They replied, “The things about Jesus of Nazareth, who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people, and how our chief priests and leaders handed him over to be condemned to death and crucified him. But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel. Yes, and besides all this, it is now the third day since these things took place. Moreover, some women of our group astounded us. They were at the tomb early this morning, and when they did not find his body there, they came back and told us that they had indeed seen a vision of angels who said that he was alive. Some of those who were with us went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said; but they did not see him.” Then he said to them, “Oh, how foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared! Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?” Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures.

As they came near the village to which they were going, he walked ahead as if he were going on. But they urged him strongly, saying, “Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over.” So he went in to stay with them. When he was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him; and he vanished from their sight. They said to each other, “Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?” That same hour they got up and returned to Jerusalem; and they found the eleven and their companions gathered together. They were saying, “The Lord has risen indeed, and he has appeared to Simon!” Then they told what had happened on the road, and how he had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread.

Christ is risen!

He is risen indeed! 

There are not many resurrection appearance stories found in the Gospels. There are two in Matthew, two in Luke, zero in Mark, and four in John’s Gospel. I always look forward to preaching about these appearances because they are few and far between. But it also makes them all the more special. 

On Easter, we celebrate that God raised Jesus from the dead. 

We celebrate that death is not the end of the story which gives us hope. 

But sometimes hope can feel a bit farfetched or even faded. Maybe at one time, you often felt hopeful, but the world has changed so much and you just can’t catch up. The world you once knew no longer exists and you don’t like what it has become. 

I’ve been thinking about especially that we have all of these crises that when you ponder them, can feel overwhelming. Whether it’s gun violence around our city or nation, the climate crisis, human rights abuses here and around the world, homelessness, wars and rumors of wars, and the list goes on and on. 

It’s the story of the Walk to Emmaus that can help remind us that we are not alone in our grief, our wanderings, and our disappointments. 

Our story takes place, on the same day as the resurrection. Two disciples leave Jerusalem sad and frustrated. Their so-called Messiah that they had been following was crucified on a Roman Cross on Friday and while they hoped that something might happen, they had to leave the city where the execution took place to return to life as normal. 

For the seven-mile journey, they talked about what happened that weekend and the Luke adds that not only did they speak causally. That Greek word is where we get the word homily from, homilein. But their discussion became lively as Luke adds the word syzētein (SIZETEN) which means to question or dispute. These two disciples, which one is named and the other not, were in a heated discussion about the death of Jesus and all that surrounded the event.

It's at this point that the unrecognizable Jesus enters the conversation. The Scripture says that “their eyes were kept from recognizing him.” So it wasn’t that he was wearing a disguise, they just couldn’t identify him whether they wanted to or not. 

Jesus asks them, point blank, what they are talking about. 

And you’ll notice here that they stop walking and look sad.

The weekend they just had, hearing of their Savior hanging from the cross, bleeding out, and breathing his last, had emotionally and physically caught up to them. Grief and sadness had finally found them as they were asked by this stranger the simple question about what happened. 

We can certainly get like this too. Maybe you were snippy or had a short temper and took it out on a loved one or friend and didn’t mean to, and after thinking about why you were like that, you realized that you haven’t been sleeping well or eating well or maybe you too had a hard weekend because a dear friend passed. It’s always good to be aware and to do what you need to do to feel stable. 

Cleopas and the other disciple give a lengthy monologue about all that happened in Jerusalem. Jesus of Nazareth, a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all people was crucified. And earlier today women from the group went to the tomb and they had visions of angels and Jesus’ body was not there. Others went to check as well. 

The Risen Jesus responds by calling them foolish and slow of heart. And that they should have listened more closely about all the things that were supposed to the Messiah found in the Scriptures. He then interpreted the Scriptures to them, starting with Moses and going through the prophets.

Afterward Jesus seems to then walk another direction, but the disciples offer him a place to stay since it was getting late.

At table, just as Jesus had done throughout his ministry: he took bread, blessed, broke, and gave it to them. And in that moment, their eyes became open to seeing that this stranger all along was actually Jesus in their midst. 

And upon self-reflection, they said, “Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?” They then immediately headed back to Jerusalem to share with the other disciples that they had seen Jesus and how he had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread. 

What they had experienced must be shared. Their returning to Jerusalem shows the outward spiral of the Gospel. News this good must be shared. News this transforming creates new community. Those illuminated by the grace of Jesus Christ must offer witness to others that they too might come to know him in the breaking of the bread.

This story which happened over two thousand years ago, still happens today. We can still find Jesus sitting with us at tables when we are sharing meals with friends and strangers. We can find Jesus when we open the Scriptures together in community and hear God’s Word interpreted. 

It should not surprise us that this story moves from isolation to community. Christ joins himself to those on the way, who then make space for him in the village. God always creates space for the “other” in order that true community might be formed. Scripture too is best understood in community, because we need others to interrogate our insular readings; indeed, we need others’ interpretations to challenge our narrowness of heart.

So may you do as these early disciples did and be self-reflective about those moments of your day when you felt Jesus’ presence.

May you read and seek to understand our Holy Scriptures with others, just as the early church practiced and taught.

And as you travel down your roads, keep your ears and eyes open to strangers, they might just help illumine your life a little more. Amen.

John 20:19-31

When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.”

But Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord.” But he said to them, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.”

A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.” Thomas answered him, “My Lord and my God!” Jesus said to him, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.”

Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.

The Word of God for the People of God!

Please pray with me: O God who is more than willing to address our doubts and fears, be with us, this morning as we reflect on the story of Doubting Thomas. May we listen for a word from you, in Christ’s name I pray, Amen.

It was a joy to celebrate the resurrection and the beginning of Eastertide with such a mighty crowd last week. It’s such a special day. Some of us that day wear a little better than our Sunday Best. We get the chance to sing the Easter classics. Jesus Christ is Risen today, Alleluia. Our morning is peppered with the call and response: Christ is Risen, He is Risen indeed. We finally feel like we can celebrate after feeling reflective and muted by the six weeks of Lent. We are free! The apostle Paul explains it this way in Romans 6: Therefore, we have been buried with Christ by baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life.

But as the celebratory resurrection balloons begin to deflate and reality sinks in again, we encounter the stories of the risen Jesus interacting with the disciples, once without Thomas and once with him.

In liturgical churches, the second week of Easter, no matter what year, is Doubting Thomas Sunday. It’s often when the head of staff of larger churches takes the Sunday off and has an associate preach. Or in the last ten years, some churches have decided to go a different direction and make today Holy Humor Sunday or Bright Sunday. Instead of contemplating the depths of doubt, they continue in the joy of Easter.

One of the jokes you might hear from a church that participates in a Holy Humor Sunday goes like this. 

A woman invited some people to dinner. 

At the table, she turned to her six-year-old daughter and said, 

"Would you like to say the blessing?"

"I wouldn't know what to say," the little girl replied.

"Just say what you hear Mommy say," the mother said.

The little girl bowed her head and said: "Dear Lord, why on earth did I invite all these people to dinner?"

It’s good to continue in the Easter celebration since we have seven weeks total in Eastertide. And honestly, there has been so much going on in the world these last few years, it’s important to laugh and revel in the joy of Christ. 

Yet, while a story about Doubting Thomas can seem like a downer, it doesn’t need to be. There can be joy in our faith stretching and growing.

One of the classic descriptions of theology is “faith seeking understanding.” This is a never-ending task, for as cultures change, new questions arise, making fresh understandings necessary lest faith be discarded like some outdated fashion. The phrase “faith seeking understanding” was crafted by an early medieval theologian named Anselm, who himself never stopped searching for the meaning of faith. 

We are addressed with this same task. 

Our Gospel lesson, found in the second to last chapter of John’s Gospel, comprises three different stories. The first happens on the evening of the resurrection. The ten disciples, without Thomas or Judas, are huddled in a locked room out of fear of the Jewish authorities. The Resurrected Jesus enters through the locked doors and dispels their fear by saying “Peace be with you.” He shows them his hands and side, the scars of the crucifixion. Before leaving, Jesus breathes on them the Holy Spirit and gives them the power to forgive sins and retain sins, if necessary.

They later tell Thomas that they saw the Risen Lord. Thomas does not believe them and wants to see for himself. 

Then a week later, the eleven are in the same house, the doors are shut, but not locked. Jesus enters again, and says, “Peace be with you.” Immediately Jesus tells Thomas to put his finger in his side, to not doubt but believe. Thomas blurts out a statement of faith, “My Lord and my God.” His doubts have been replaced by faith. Jesus then offers words for us “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.”

And the final section summarizes that Jesus did many more signs, and this book was written so that we may believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and we may have life in his name.

To backpedal, in John’s Gospel, we hear more words uttered from the disciple Thomas than from all of the other Gospels combined. 

When Jesus tells the disciples that they should go see Lazarus in chapter 11, Thomas speaks up with a strange misunderstanding: “Let us also go, that we may die with him.”

A few chapters later, after Jesus says that he is going to go prepare a place for them. Thomas blurts out, “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?” And Jesus said, “I am the way, the truth, and the life.”

It makes sense then that Thomas would say something as ridiculous as “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.” Thomas represents Jesus’ foil, the antagonist. 

But honestly, Thomas’ doubt doesn’t seem that out of hand.

On the day of the resurrection,

It says, the Beloved disciple “saw and believed” after he went into the empty tomb, but did not understand.

Mary saw and believed the Risen Lord, only after he revealed himself to her. 

The disciples saw and rejoiced after Jesus showed them his hands and side. 

My question is: Why then are we pointing out Thomas as a doubter when everyone else needed to see the Risen One first before they believed?

“Doubting Thomas?” More like “Seeing-Is-Believing Thomas” — and Jesus calls him, and all the disciples, to step out beyond a faith that depends too much on “signs and wonders,” to grow beyond a “seeing-is-believing” form of the Christian life. The miracles or signs throughout John’s Gospel are meant to point beyond themselves and towards our ever-loving, ever-present God. We can’t depend on a tremendous act of God to happen every day or even once a week. Rather our faith is more adequately conceived as a relationship based on trust, established over a long period of time, and grounded in an interpersonal encounter with God.

Theologian Paul Tillich once wrote, “Doubt is not the opposite of faith; it is one element of faith.” Doubt for Tillich is a growing edge. We are not meant to have a gullible faith, one where we just accept everything as gospel truth. Rather God gave us minds, an intellect, big hearts, our senses, and experiences of the world that should be included in our faith and not disregarded because of it.

Thus, it is not that Thomas doubts anything. He merely, along with the other disciples, needs to know that the one in their midst now is the one who has called them together then. Though we, 21st-century followers of Jesus, may be blessed for believing though not having actually seen Jesus’ hands or side ourselves, we are disciples capable of greater faith and courage because we trust that Thomas and the others saw them on our behalf. Thereby we are assured that the risen one is indeed the crucified one. Thus hope endures.

Never be afraid to ask the difficult questions of faith. If you don’t think God can handle them, then perhaps your perception of God is too small. 

We are not testing God when we wonder, have our curiosities, or are even upset about our current situations. Jesus still comes to us, just as he did to Doubting Thomas and showed him his scars. Jesus did not ignore him or was even angry with him. He said, “Peace be with you.” We may not have similar moments as Thomas did with Jesus entering through closed doors, but more often than not I hear God’s calming presence in Scripture, in the encouragement of my spiritual director, and through music. 

May we continue to grow through our questions and wonderings. 

May our relationships continue to go deeper with God and with one another. 

And may we be just as bold as Thomas as wait for God to show up. Amen.

Matthew 28:1-10

After the sabbath, as the first day of the week was dawning, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to see the tomb. And suddenly there was a great earthquake; for an angel of the Lord, descending from heaven, came and rolled back the stone and sat on it. His appearance was like lightning, and his clothing white as snow. For fear of him the guards shook and became like dead men. But the angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid; I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is not here; for he has been raised, as he said. Come, see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples, ‘He has been raised from the dead, and indeed he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him.’ This is my message for you.” So they left the tomb quickly with fear and great joy, and ran to tell his disciples. Suddenly Jesus met them and said, “Greetings!” And they came to him, took hold of his feet, and worshiped him. Then Jesus said to them, “Do not be afraid; go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me.”

Easter Sunday!  Today begins the season of Eastertide, fifty days of celebrating Jesus’ resurrection — outpacing the forty days of Lent, and at the same time making up roughly one seventh of the entire year, in effect a “sabbath” writ large for the year as a whole. The resurrection is so great a mystery, and calls for so grand a celebration, that merely one day won’t do.

2) Easter Sunday! At the outset of Luke’s Gospel, the priest Zechariah (Elizabeth’s hubby and John the Baptizer’s dad) sings a song known today as the “Benedictus,” including the line: “By the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace” (Luke 1:78-79). Now — at last — that dawn has come!

3) But dawn is not the day. Easter Sunday is only the beginning: Jesus’ resurrection is the “first fruits” of the harvest, an encouraging glimpse of what’s ahead (compare 1 Cor 15:20-23). But “what’s ahead,” by definition, isn’t yet here. We call it “dawn” because its rays of light break through the shadows — but it’s also true that for the time being, the shadows remain. Accordingly, Easter comes not as the solution to creation’s problems but rather as profound assurance that a new, irrevocable era has begun — and in the end, love and justice, shalom and joy, will have the final word. The sun will rise!

4) And sure enough, shadows are everywhere today. Violence, despair, rancor, war and rumors of war… But this fifty-day season of Eastertide presents an opportunity: redoubling our commitment to create a world in which all may live and thrive.

Scripture:

1) Ask ten Christians why the women come to the tomb that Easter morning, and many will tell you that they come bringing spices to anoint Jesus’ corpse — but that’s not the story Matthew tells. It’s Mark and Luke who mention “spices” and anointing; for them, the women come to the tomb because they think Jesus is dead. But on the contrary, for Matthew, the women come to the tomb because they think Jesus is (or soon will be) alive!

2) There are several clues pointing to this scattered throughout Matthew’s telling of the story. First, Matthew contends that Mary Magdalene and “the other Mary” show up that morning not to embalm a corpse but rather “to see the tomb” (Matthew 28:1). The Greek word here for “to see,” theoresai, means “to look at” and also “to discern,” to contemplate, analyze, understand. The same Greek root underlies the English word, “theater,” that art in which we behold dramatic action in order to concentrate on its meaning, the better to understand it.

3) Do the two Marys arrive because they expect some dramatic action is about to happen? Matthew gives us every reason to think so. The same women are named explicitly just a few verses earlier: while the male disciples betray and desert Jesus at the crucifixion, the two Marys remain as witnesses, “looking on [theorousai] from a distance; they had followed Jesus from Galilee and had provided for him” (Matthew 27:55-56). In this context, “provide” (Greek diakonousai) means to furnish essential resources; it’s the same word Matthew uses for giving food to the hungry, drink to the thirsty, and so on (Matthew 25:44, “take care of”). In other words, the two Marys were devoted followers of Jesus, both learning from him and providing for him — and when the male disciples lose their nerve and run for the hills, the women stay and “see.”

4) And what do they see? According to Matthew, at the very “moment” Jesus dies, “the earth shook” and “tombs also were opened” (Matthew 27:51-52). In other words, just a few days (and just a few verses) before today’s passage, these very women witness astonishing signs that — as another witness, a Roman centurion, proclaims — “Truly this man was God’s Son!” (Matthew 27:54). What’s more, because the two Mary's have been following Jesus all along, they were no doubt familiar with his teaching that he “must go to Jerusalem and undergo great suffering… and be killed, and on the third day be raised” (Matthew 16:21; 17:22-23; 20:17-19). Indeed, Jesus delivers this teaching to his followers no less than three times in Matthew — and the women, at least, are listening!

5) And so they come to the tomb that morning with great expectations. They don’t bring any embalming spices — because they don’t expect to need them. Unlike their male counterparts, they haven’t given up on God yet. They come “to see the tomb” — which is to say, they come daring to hope that they will see it open! When the earth shakes for a second time in three days, when the tomb’s stone is thunderously rolled aside, they aren’t surprised. Awestruck and overjoyed, yes — but not shocked. The Roman guards faint with terror at the sight of an angel who looks “like lightning” (evoking the Transfiguration in Matthew 17:2) — but the women stand strong, despite their fear. They meet the angel’s gaze. They see what they came hoping and expecting to see.

6) Accordingly, the angel commissions them to go and tell the disciples what they’ve seen, thus making them the original “apostles” (from the Greek apostolus, “person sent forth”). And as they go “with fear and great joy,” the risen Jesus appears to them directly — even before he appears to the male disciples (Matthew 28:8-9). The women bow down and worship, taking hold of his feet — as if to confirm and celebrate that his body, once wounded, tortured, and killed, is now alive again. If the women in Mark and Luke come to anoint Jesus’ corpse, the two Marys in Matthew come to bless Jesus’ resurrected body.

7) Finally, Jesus’ instructions (“go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me”) carry a powerful implication: the gift of forgiveness (Matthew 28:10). The very ones who betrayed and deserted him, who acted for all intents and purposes like enemies, Jesus calls “my brothers.” He wants to be with them — not to rebuke them, but on the contrary, to mercifully commission them, to make them, too, into apostles (Matthew 28:19-20).

Takeaways:

1) It’s Easter Sunday, but it’s only the beginning — and rightly so, since a mystery as fathomless as Easter can only begin on a single day, beckoning us to enter into its depths and riches for the fifty-day season to follow, and beyond.

2) The women arrive on “the first day of the week,” a poetic turn suggesting a new beginning (Matthew 28:1). Easter Sunday is not the end of Lent — it’s the beginning of Eastertide, and in a deeper sense, the beginning of Christian life, a life lived in the light of God’s resurrection. The trumpets and lilies of Easter, then, signal not a final victory, but rather a commencement, a launch, a kickoff — a dawn of a new day.

3) And this morning twilight still has plenty of shadows, and struggles, and doubts. Indeed, if our first reaction to a report of resurrection is skepticism, we’re in good company. Some among Jesus’ own disciples, the ones who arguably knew him best, initially refuse to believe (Matthew 28:17). And as we’ll see in the weeks ahead, Easter faith is often a mix of trust and doubt, belief and disbelief. For after all, there are at least two ways to miss a miracle: first, to dismiss it, to reject it too readily, as if astonishing things never happen; and second, to domesticate it, to accept it too readily, as if it isn’t astonishing at all.

4) The two Marys, however, take their amazement, their “fear and great joy,” another step forward: whether or not they’re completely convinced, they proclaim the mystery. They announce the good news. They are the original apostles: staying with Jesus on the cross, if only “from a distance,” and showing up at dawn on the third day with great expectations. To anyone who argues that women should not be leaders in the Christian church at the highest levels, this story stands as a luminous, devastating reply.  

5) Easter Sunday! What’s the good news of the Gospel today? For those who despair that death-dealing powers have the upper hand: fear not. Easter means God ultimately is and will be victorious over the powers of death. For those who feel isolated and lonely: fear not.  Easter means we are all together in the risen Body of Christ, even if we’re physically apart. For those who despair that our guilt is too great for God to forgive: fear not. Easter means God has cleared all accounts, liberating humanity from shame, reconciling us to God and each other as God’s children. For those who despair in the midst of pain or anguish: take heart. You are not alone: Jesus suffers with you in solidarity and companionship, and Easter means you will rise with him. For those who despair over a world filled with hate, violence, and scapegoating: be encouraged. In Christ’s passion, God has taken the place of the scapegoat in order to expose humanity’s violent ways — and Easter means God one day will overcome violence. Indeed, Easter means that God has taken one of the worst things in the world (the Roman cross) and remade it into one of the best (the Tree of Life), a sword into a ploughshare — and if the worst, then also the whole creation in the end! Like the cross, the empty tomb is a great divine mystery, a rising sun dispelling shadows in multiple directions.

Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!

What’s good about today? 

What’s good about our Savior, who is fully God and fully human, being tortured, stripped naked, a crown of thorns placed upon his head, humiliated, and crucified?

What’s good about the violent execution of our Christ who preached peace? 

What’s good about Good Friday? 

At Tuesday’s Bible Study, I shared how in the Gospels, we have the events of Holy Week narrated, but not necessarily interpreted. Earlier in the Gospels, Jesus will call his death a ransom and that we are to carry our own crosses, but the other writers in New Testament are actually the ones who help shape our understanding of the meaning of the cross.

In the letter to the Philippians, Paul quotes an early Christian hymn:

Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus,

who, though he was in the form of God,

did not regard equality with God

as something to be exploited,

but emptied himself,

taking the form of a slave,

being born in human likeness.

And being found in human form,

he humbled himself

and became obedient to the point of death—

even death on a cross.

Paul interprets Christ’s death on that despicable cross as an act of obedience and humility. And that we are to act in the same way. 

In the letter of Colossians, we hear “For in Christ all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of his cross.”

Today, it is easy to focus on Christ’s suffering and how often we can complain about minor inconveniences, while Christ had the entire world bearing on him while he suffered. But it’s also important to take a step back and see how cosmic the cross was. It’s not just that the cross reconciled humanity back to God, but that all things, yes all things on Earth and in heaven have been reconciled back to God. That we can take the cross as personally as we need to, Jesus loves us, this we know, but the cross has brought back into right relations the entire universe. It can be difficult to wrap our heads around it, but there are many more verses that support this understanding.

In the Reformed Theological Tradition, there was a German theologian in the 20th century named Karl Barth. As the fundamentalist and evangelical movements were becoming popular, he was asked, “When were you saved?” This seems like a common question today and usually we can say a year or an age when we started to intentionally follow in Christ’s footsteps. Yet for Barth, he answered simply, “2,000 years ago when Jesus died on the cross and was raised three days later. That’s when I was saved.” He moved the conversation from it being a personal experience with Christ, which we certainly have, and expanded the conversation to point to Jesus and not to us. 

Christ suffered and died on a Roman cross over 2,000 years. His death and on Sunday we’ll celebrate the resurrection sent shock waves across the universe. Christ loved you, loves you, and will continue to love us. May we remember Christ and continue to live a life of obedience and humility to God. Amen.

We have a gathered around a meal once again. And every church I’ve been to and I’ve been part of quite a few of them, they always say, “We like to eat.” You can’t be Presbyterian or Pentecostal or Baptist or any other denomination and not have an appreciation for a shared meal. 

And it would make sense that on the evening before Christ was tortured, stripped, spit on, and crucified, that he would want to have one last meal with his friends and followers. Isn’t that what the majority of his ministry was about, feeding crowds and eating with people?

If you look at how they tried to ridicule Jesus, in Matthew 11:18-19, Jesus says, “For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, ‘He has a demon’; the Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, ‘Look, a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!’”

Jesus made friends with the wrong kinds of people, 

he was entertained by the wrong kinds of hosts,

he made friends with people who were ignored or shunned. 

And it’s not just Jesus’ ministry where meals and meal prep were a main concern. They’re found all over the earliest writings in the New Testament, which were written by Paul. In Galatians, he wrote about how he publicly condemned Peter for being peer pressured to not eat with the Gentiles. Or in First Corinthians, he writes about whether you should eat meat that was offered up to idols or not. If you don’t remember, it’s always about who you are eating with and not wanting to offend them, more so than what you are eating. Also in that same letter, he writes concerning Communion, “When you come together, it is not really to eat the Lord’s supper. For when the time comes to eat, each of you goes ahead with your own supper, and one goes hungry and another becomes drunk. What! Do you not have homes to eat and drink in? Or do you show contempt for the church of God and humiliate those who have nothing? What should I say to you? Should I commend you? In this matter I do not commend you!”

For Paul and Jesus, the Gospel is found at tables where meals are being shared. They lived out the Gospel by creating a shared gathering where all were all invited, not just those who were already their friends. 

In the first few months of the pandemic, I only left the house to drive the car for curbside pickup at the grocery store or to walk the Schuylkill River Trail in Manayunk. I deeply missed having shared meals. So I decided to reach out to my friends to Zoom with them weekly over a meal. I am not a big fan of watching others eat on screen, but this felt different. And by the time Thanksgiving rolled around, I zoomed with my family as we ate at our distant homes. We couldn’t hug each other or pass the gravy across the table or smell the scent of the candle my Grandmother lit, but we got in a few laughs and could pray together.

I am grateful that we have our monthly First Tuesday meal. It’s wonderful to have Food for Hope guests enter through our doors and sit at table with us. There are not many spaces in this world where we have the opportunity to eat alongside those who are essentially strangers. And then to have a time of reading and discussing Scripture, never quite knowing where people are coming from, but that we are open to hearing their experiences. 

Tonight, we have prayed, heard Scripture, and humbled ourselves by washing each other hands. Now I would like us to spend a few moments at our tables to discuss these questions:

What was your favorite meal growing up?

When was the last time you ate with a stranger or an acquaintance? What was it like?

Have you ever been ministered to by a shared meal?

Matthew 21:1-11

When they had come near Jerusalem and had reached Bethphage, at the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two disciples, saying to them, “Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately you will find a donkey tied, and a colt with her; untie them and bring them to me. If anyone says anything to you, just say this, ‘The Lord needs them.’ And he will send them immediately.” This took place to fulfill what had been spoken through the prophet, saying,

“Tell the daughter of Zion,

Look, your king is coming to you,

humble, and mounted on a donkey,

and on a colt, the foal of a donkey.”

The disciples went and did as Jesus had directed them; they brought the donkey and the colt, and put their cloaks on them, and he sat on them. A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, and others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road.

The crowds that went ahead of him and that followed were shouting,

“Hosanna to the Son of David!

Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!

Hosanna in the highest heaven!”

When he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking, “Who is this?” The crowds were saying, “This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee.”

Please pray with me: O God in this Holy Week, I pray that we can focus our attention on you. May your Word come alive and transform our hearts and lives. In Christ’s name, I pray, Amen. 

In the annual ritual of Holy Week, we begin on a high note with Palm Sunday. Lots of celebrating, jubilation, and plant waving. Where else can you swing around palms?! Nowhere!

We welcome Jesus as he enters Jerusalem one final time. We know what’s going to happen at the end of the week, we’ve read ahead. But today we join the crowds in praising Jesus, riding on a donkey, by singing in a little bit during Communion: 

“Hosanna to the Son of David!

Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!

Hosanna in the highest heaven!”

Our passage is saturated with prophetic witness, donkey borrowing, and a crowded celebration.

Jesus and the disciples reached Bethphage, which is to the northeast of Jerusalem. Their arrival at the Mount of Olives isn’t incidental: this route is an enactment of the Prophet Zechariah’s vision, who is heavily quoted in this passage. In the vision, God was expected to arrive by the Mount of Olives on the “day of the Lord” and become king “over all the earth” (Zech 14:4-9). The point is that Matthew goes out of his way to underscore that Jesus’ arrival in Jerusalem bears all the marks of Zechariah’s ancient promise: that God’s reign has dawned!

At Bethphage, Jesus sends two disciples into the village to find an appropriate parade animal to ride in on. He tells them they will see a donkey and a colt, to untie them both and if anyone asks to tell them that “The Lord needs them.” 

Matthew is funny in this way, unlike Mark and Luke, where Jesus only asks for a colt that has never been ridden. Here Jesus asks for both a donkey and a colt, two different animals. 

Then the passage says. “the disciples brought the donkey and the colt, and put their cloaks on them, and he sat on them.” It’s interesting to imagine Jesus straddling both animals or even in circus like fashion standing on them both. Yet it should be noted, the “them” in “he sat on them” could actually be the cloaks, but it depends on which scholar you read whether you want Jesus to ride on two animals or one. 

Regardless of Jesus’ riding situation, a very large crowd spreads their cloaks on the road, and others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the path.

Yet why specifically palm branches? Well, they iconically evoke the celebratory Feast of Booths (Hebrew Sukkot, pronounced, “Soo-COAT”), during which worshipers processed around the temple altar, rejoicing by waving branches in accordance with God’s instructions to Moses from Leviticus: “you shall take the fruit of majestic trees, branches of palm trees, boughs of leafy trees, and willows of the brook; and you shall rejoice before the Lord your God for seven days… You shall live in booths [temporary shelters made of leafy branches] for seven days; all who are citizens in Israel shall live in booths, so that your generations may know that I made the people of Israel live in booths when I brought them out of the land of Egypt” (Leviticus 23:40-43). In other words, the palm branches signal the people’s joyful hopes that, like Moses, Jesus will lead a new exodus and deliver them from bondage. 

And likewise, the large crowds roll out a royal “red carpet” by laying their cloaks down for him (Matt. 21:8), surrounding him with praise and telling “the whole city” of Jerusalem who he is. In the praise they offer during the parade, the crowds call Jesus the “Son of David” and “the one who comes in the name of the Lord.”

The sense of anticipation and excitement must have been tangible, celebrating Jesus with no discernable concern for the potential danger. Surely the crowds are aware that the religious leaders consider Jesus an antagonist and the chief nemesis to their survival, yet the marchers’ proclamation intensifies as they approach the city gates. Their hosannas, which literally means, “Save us!” echo throughout the mountainous region, for Jesus has become the undeniable expression of God’s presence in the world. 

“Save us!” they cry out, creating a royal carpet of coats, cloaks, and tree branches for this bearer of good news. 

Almost instinctively, shouts of “Hosanna!” escape our lips, and we join this triumphal march, deepening our Lenten commitment to self-examination. 

The coronation parade into Jerusalem also is an unmistakable challenge to Caesar. Jesus enters Jerusalem, which was the capital of Israel and Judah and the current regional capital from which Caesar’s representative, Pontius Pilate, governs. Jesus enters the city as if he is claiming it as his own, as the capital of the near-at-hand reign of God!

For us, Christ is king in the sense of one who leads the church to march victoriously, peacefully, and even foolishly (riding two donkeys!) into the center of culture and society, offering a different vision of God’s will for the world from what any Caesar, ancient or contemporary, has ever offered. Seen this way, waving palms in worship is not just something the children do as amused adults watch; it is a political act claiming the church’s allegiance to God’s vision for the world.

Palm Sunday reminds us that there is much joy to be had in this world of grief and sorrow and the one who leads us supports our foolishness! Amen.

John 9

All, Choir, Pews

As Jesus walked along, he saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” Jesus answered, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him. We must work the works of him who sent me while it is day; night is coming when no one can work. As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.” When he had said this, he spat on the ground and made mud with the saliva and spread the mud on the man’s eyes, saying to him, “Go, wash in the pool of Siloam” (which means Sent). Then he went and washed and came back able to see. The neighbors and those who had seen him before as a beggar began to ask, “Is this not the man who used to sit and beg?” Some were saying, “It is he.” Others were saying, “No, but it is someone like him.” He kept saying, “I am the man.” But they kept asking him, “Then how were your eyes opened?” He answered, “The man called Jesus made mud, spread it on my eyes, and said to me, ‘Go to Siloam and wash.’ Then I went and washed and received my sight.” They said to him, “Where is he?” He said, “I do not know.”

They brought to the Pharisees the man who had formerly been blind. Now it was a sabbath day when Jesus made the mud and opened his eyes. Then the Pharisees also began to ask him how he had received his sight. 

He said to them, (choir) “He put mud on my eyes. Then I washed, and now I see.” 

Some of the Pharisees said, (pews) “This man is not from God, for he does not observe the sabbath.” 

But others said, (choir)  “How can a man who is a sinner perform such signs?” 

And they were divided. So they said again to the blind man, (pews) “What do you say about him? It was your eyes he opened.” He said, “He is a prophet.”

The Jews did not believe that he had been blind and had received his sight until they called the parents of the man who had received his sight and asked them, (choir) “Is this your son, who you say was born blind? How then does he now see?” 

His parents answered, (pews) “We know that this is our son, and that he was born blind; but we do not know how it is that now he sees, nor do we know who opened his eyes. Ask him; he is of age. He will speak for himself.” His parents said this because they were afraid of the Jews; for the Jews had already agreed that anyone who confessed Jesus to be the Messiah would be put out of the synagogue. Therefore his parents said, “He is of age; ask him.”

So for the second time they called the man who had been blind, and they said to him, (choir) “Give glory to God! We know that this man is a sinner.” He answered, (pews) “I do not know whether he is a sinner. One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.” They said to him, (choir) “What did he do to you? How did he open your eyes?” He answered them, (pews) “I have told you already, and you would not listen. Why do you want to hear it again? Do you also want to become his disciples?” 

Then they reviled him, saying, (choir) “You are his disciple, but we are disciples of Moses. We know that God has spoken to Moses, but as for this man, we do not know where he comes from.” 

The man answered, (pews) “Here is an astonishing thing! You do not know where he comes from, and yet he opened my eyes. We know that God does not listen to sinners, but he does listen to one who worships him and obeys his will. Never since the world began has it been heard that anyone opened the eyes of a person born blind. If this man were not from God, he could do nothing.” They answered him, (choir) “You were born entirely in sins, and are you trying to teach us?” And they drove him out.

Jesus heard that they had driven him out, and when he found him, he said, “Do you believe in the Son of Man?” He answered, “And who is he, sir? Tell me, so that I may believe in him.” Jesus said to him, “You have seen him, and the one speaking with you is he.” He said, “Lord, I believe.” And he worshiped him. Jesus said, “I came into this world for judgment so that those who do not see may see, and those who do see may become blind.” Some of the Pharisees near him heard this and said to him, “Surely we are not blind, are we?” Jesus said to them, “If you were blind, you would not have sin. But now that you say, ‘We see,’ your sin remains.”                 

Pastor: The Word of God for the People of God.

All: Thanks be to God.

Please pray with me: O Healing Savior, open our eyes to your work in the world. May we embrace and join along bringing your Realm to Earth. Give us insight this morning from this rich text. I pray this in Christ’s name, Amen. 

Reflecting on healing stories from the Gospels can be complicated. We each have our own experiences with health, hospitals, surgeries, the death of loved ones, and how we feel about physicians. 

I grew up in an area where there were a lot of suspicions about doctors and hospitals. I heard a story of a wife who had a stroke, but her spouse did not call 911, because he was too busy praying over her to be healed. She died the next day. He lost a little of his faith that day because the Great Physician did not show up.

I heard another story of a young man who for six months could not get out of bed some days because he was so weak. When he was up and moving, his legs would shake uncontrollably. He went to the ER in Western Maryland and they did some tests but couldn’t figure it out. They had to take him to another state to find out that it was cancer. 

These stories come from my family, who have a distrust of doctors. I’m the black sheep. I always get my yearly physical, don’t mind going to urgent care, I see a therapist, I’m up on my vaccines, and strive always to be well. 

So how I hear and understand healing stories is different from my own family. 

This is another week in Lent, Year A, which means another long narrative from John’s Gospel! Thank you all for helping me read it. Unlike last week and the week before, which was mainly a conversation between Jesus and another person, today there are many moving parts and people.

Jesus and the disciples pass by a man who is born blind and the first thing the disciples ask is not, should we give this man some money, but who sinned that this man was born blind. 

Jesus pushed against this question and says that it was neither his parents nor him. Rather this man will be made to see as a sign of God’s glory. Remember John’s Gospel emphasizes the word “sign” and not miracle. 

Jesus then spits on the ground to make mud and spreads it across the man’s eyes and tells him to “Go, wash in the pool of Siloam.”

After the man does what he is told, he is able to see. Jesus and the disciples disappear from the story and the man’s neighbors take their place. They ask, is this the same person we saw begging just yesterday, and how did this happen? This section ends with the newly sighted man saying that it was a man called Jesus who healed him and he doesn’t know where he went. 

The neighbors then bring the man before the Pharisees. It’s here where we find out that Jesus healed the man on the Sabbath. Like the neighbors, they want to know what happened and who was the healer. And the man called Jesus a prophet. The Pharisees start to believe that he wasn’t even blind in the first place. His parents are called in and they defer to their son to speak for himself.

Then, in verse 24, it says that the once-blind man met with the Pharisees a second time. We’re not sure how much time has passed since the first meeting. The Pharisees say to him, “Give glory to God.” In other words, give us the whole truth. And the man speaks from experience, exclaiming that he once was blind but now he sees. He defends Jesus saying that he could not be a sinner because God does not listen to sinners and sinners cannot heal people who were born blind. The Pharisees turn it back on the man and say, “you were born entirely in sins, and are you trying to teach us?” And they drove him out.”

After he was driven out by the Pharisees, Jesus, and the disciples re-enter the story. Jesus asks him about the Son of Man, and the man declares that he believes. Jesus ends this narrative by declaring that those who are blind, do not have sin. But those who see, still have sin. Similar to Jesus saying at the beginning of Mark’s Gospel, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick; I have come to call not the righteous but sinners.”

Wow! Just hearing the story summarized feels like its own sermon. It has a wealth of theological treasures!

Here are a few things I hear from our passage.

First, this, of course, is a healing story. A man who was begging on the side of the road was born blind and Jesus brought sight to his eyes. But at the same time, this story is a call story for the now-sighted man. When the neighbors ask him who brought life to his eyes, he said it was a man called Jesus. Then when he was in front of the Pharisees, he called Jesus a prophet. And when he sees Jesus at the end of the chapter, the unnamed man calls him Lord. 

This is a helpful reminder for us that we have our own faith journeys. Some can believe easily, while for others it might take time. This also means that your faith grows and is shaped over the years. You should not have the same kind of faith that you had in high school unless you’re in high school. You’ve had more experiences; your faith should reflect where you’re at currently. 

Second, this story has helped change the hearts and lives of millions throughout the world. John Newton, who penned the poem that became the hymn “Amazing Grace” used the language from our passage to express his experience of being transformed by God. “I was blind, now I see.” Newton as well as William Wilberforce, both British and lived at the turn of the 19th century, have incredible conversion stories since they were part of the Slave Trade, ripping West Africans from their communities, and were convicted by the Holy Spirit through the Gospels to stop owning and selling humans. It was after Newton repented of these sins that he wrote Amazing Grace. There’s a movie about their stories named after the hymn.

As we keep growing in our faith, we need to stay open to the Spirit’s leading, as Newton and Wilberforce. 

Lastly, this is a story about not-seeing and seeing, physically and metaphorically — and at the end of the day, the question is whether we, the readers and listeners of this story, will overlook its central meanings. 

Will we, like the religious authorities, get bogged down in questions about whether or not the physical healing is genuine? 

Will we, like the disciples, get so distracted by questions of past sin that we miss opportunities to participate in “God’s works” here and now? 

And at its core, this is a story about Jesus gracefully calling an excluded outsider to be an exalted apostle — and if we miss that essential storyline, we’ll miss the point. 

More importantly, if we misinterpret the world around us in similar ways, obsessed with inessential controversies and the supposed sins of others, we’ll miss the Way of Life.

So as we continue our way to the cross, this season of Lent, 

May you reflect on what is essential in your life of faith.

May you contemplate where you see and feel God moving in the world.

And ask for the courage to join in the movement of Christ, Amen.

John 4:5-42

So Jesus came to a town of Samaria called Sychar, near the field that Jacob had given to his son Joseph. Jacob's well was there; so Jesus, wearied as he was from his journey, was sitting beside the well. It was about the sixth hour.

A woman from Samaria came to draw water. Jesus said to her, “Give me a drink.” (For his disciples had gone away into the city to buy food.) The Samaritan woman said to him, “How is it that you, a Jew, ask for a drink from me, a woman of Samaria?” (For Jews have no dealings with Samaritans.) Jesus answered her, “If you knew the gift of God, and who it is that is saying to you, ‘Give me a drink,’ you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water.” The woman said to him, “Sir, you have nothing to draw water with, and the well is deep. Where do you get that living water? Are you greater than our father Jacob? He gave us the well and drank from it himself, as did his sons and his livestock.” Jesus said to her, “Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will never be thirsty again. The water that I will give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” The woman said to him, “Sir, give me this water, so that I will not be thirsty or have to come here to draw water.”

Jesus said to her, “Go, call your husband, and come here.” The woman answered him, “I have no husband.” Jesus said to her, “You are right in saying, ‘I have no husband’; for you have had five husbands, and the one you now have is not your husband. What you have said is true.” The woman said to him, “Sir, I perceive that you are a prophet. Our fathers worshiped on this mountain, but you say that in Jerusalem is the place where people ought to worship.” Jesus said to her, “Woman, believe me, the hour is coming when neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem will you worship the Father. You worship what you do not know; we worship what we know, for salvation is from the Jews. But the hour is coming, and is now here, when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for the Father is seeking such people to worship him. God is spirit, and those who worship him must worship in spirit and truth.” The woman said to him, “I know that Messiah is coming (he who is called Christ). When he comes, he will tell us all things.” Jesus said to her, “I who speak to you am he.”

Just then his disciples came back. They marveled that he was talking with a woman, but no one said, “What do you seek?” or, “Why are you talking with her?” So the woman left her water jar and went away into town and said to the people, “Come, see a man who told me all that I ever did. Can this be the Christ?” They went out of the town and were coming to him.

Meanwhile the disciples were urging him, saying, “Rabbi, eat.” But he said to them, “I have food to eat that you do not know about.” So the disciples said to one another, “Has anyone brought him something to eat?” Jesus said to them, “My food is to do the will of him who sent me and to accomplish his work. Do you not say, ‘There are yet four months, then comes the harvest’? Look, I tell you, lift up your eyes, and see that the fields are white for harvest. Already the one who reaps is receiving wages and gathering fruit for eternal life, so that sower and reaper may rejoice together. For here the saying holds true, One sows and another reaps.’ I sent you to reap that for which you did not labor. Others have labored, and you have entered into their labor.”

Many Samaritans from that town believed in him because of the woman's testimony, “He told me all that I ever did.” So when the Samaritans came to him, they asked him to stay with them, and he stayed there two days. And many more believed because of his word. They said to the woman, “It is no longer because of what you said that we believe, for we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this is indeed the Savior of the world.”

The Word of God for the People of God 

Please pray with me: O Gracious God of Living Water, pour out your healing presence on us. Broaden our understanding of this scriptural conversation between Jesus and the Samaritan woman. Strengthen us as we follow in your ways. In Christ’s name, I pray, Amen.

“You have nothing to draw water with, and the well is deep.” The unnamed Samaritan woman tells Jesus. According to her, Jesus came unprepared, having no bucket, no rope, just his parched self. 

I’m sure, when you were younger, your nights were full of dreams or what felt more like nightmares where a teacher gave you a surprise test and you felt totally unprepared. Or maybe you were like me in college, and you dreamt that you signed up for a class, but forgot to attend halfway through the semester. Thankfully, for most of us, this was not our reality. We knew when big tests were coming and we were prepared. Yet still, when you woke up from these dreams, that sense of dread lingered. Believe me, I have had a few dreams where I forgot to write a sermon too. They’re not fun. 

The themes of accessibility to resources, an honest look at one’s life, and the broadening of worship are transparent in this story. We’ll take a look at each of these. 

Everything about the telling of the story of the Samaritan woman should be familiar. If you’ve ever read through the Gospel of John, each of these kinds of conversations hit the same points. There is a simple exchange at the outset that creates a conversation. Jesus speaks in metaphor and the conversation partner understands it incorrectly as literal statements. They speak past one another and Jesus always gets the last word.

Last week, it was Nicodemus and this week the conversation partner is an anonymous Samaritan woman. She is a woman of the people, fully aware of the terms of the traditional rivalry between Samaritans and Jews. Jesus’ simple request for a drink from a historic well at midday becomes a discussion of water in a double sense. And the conversation goes deep, much deeper than last week’s conversation with Nicodemus who spoke three times, whereas the Samaritan woman speaks twice as much with touchstones of history and theology intertwined at each point. 

What’s most striking about the conversation between Jesus and the Samaritan woman isn’t just the content — it’s that it’s happening at all. They break two taboos at once: one against a religious teacher speaking with a woman in public, and the other against Jews and Samaritans interacting on such intimate terms (asking to share water). John goes out of his way to call attention to this scandalous dimension of the dialogue — and sure enough, both the woman and the disciples are taken aback (John 4:9,27). Two fault lines of social division — gender and religious/ethnic sectarianism — are brought front and center.

From the outset, Jesus’ language signals to his listeners that he has in mind an unconventional meaning for the word “water.” For here is “water” that comes not from the ground or the clouds but from a person, and for those who partake, their “thirst” is banished. Jesus is talking about a deeper, more profound form of nourishment and well-being.

The Samaritan woman thinks Jesus is the petitioner, the one in need, and fails to understand that it is not he who needs what only she can provide, but she who needs what only he can give. She tells Jesus the half-truth that she has no husband and Jesus reveals the full truth that she has had five husbands and the man currently living with her is not her husband (vv. 16–18). She then assumes Jesus is a prophet because he knows the truth about her marital situation, but does not realize that he is a very different kind of prophet, one who not only knows the truth about her life but is himself the way, the truth, and the life (vv. 19–24). She believes in a coming Messiah but does not realize that in the person of this Jew from Galilee, the Messiah is standing in front of her (vv. 25–26). 

Yet, when the woman comes to the startling recognition that she has been talking to the Messiah, she leaves her bucket and runs to the village with the news: “Come and see a man who told me everything I have ever done!” she cries. 

Notice the unfinished nature of that sentence, especially given what we know about the woman’s history: Come see a man who told me everything I ever did … and loved me anyway! She does not say the last four words, but they are implicit in her action, and in the joy with which she runs. 

“Everything she ever did” is a long list of sins, and common knowledge besides; it is always before her, in the judgmental expressions of her neighbors. For Jesus to have intimate knowledge of that list is not as singular as it might be; but for him to know her past, and still love her—well, that is as unbelievably new and fresh as anything she has ever heard! The man who told her everything she ever did … and loved her anyway … is what saves her life. In that moment, she sees God. She receives Christ—and leaps up to tell.

Jesus meets us where we are. Jesus knows who we are. And no matter how we might feel about ourselves on any given day, Christ still loves us. 

This passage is good news for anyone who has ever felt humiliated or the pain of being a nobody because Jesus does not turn away from this woman. On the contrary, he engages her in conversation, takes her seriously, and spends several days in her village. This woman, her community, and their welfare matter to Jesus, whether nobodies or not. That is good news.

The Samaritan woman at the well, as we have heard, is not a passive recipient of Jesus’ offer. She immediately recognizes the societal barriers and boundaries that keep her in her place; but at the same time, she challenges Jesus’ authority over and against the ancestors of the faith. Like Nicodemus, she first interprets Jesus’ words on a literal level. However, she recognizes that Jesus has something that she needs and is able to ask for what Jesus has to offer, rather than question the possibility.

The unnamed Samaritan woman meets a parched Savior and her life is changed so much that she shares it with everyone. Our lives often do not feel like they are overflowing with living water. Our everyday lives do not always feel that meaningful. Somedays you might feel like your best is getting up out of bed and going outside to get the mail. And that’s okay. 

But always remember 

we have a Savior who knows who we are 

and loves us. 

And our Savior wants to go deep with us, he’s waiting, 

So make the time to have those intimate conversations with him. Amen.

John 3:1-17

Now there was a Pharisee named Nicodemus, a leader of the Jews. He came to Jesus by night and said to him, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God; for no one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God.” Jesus answered him, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above.” Nicodemus said to him, “How can anyone be born after having grown old? Can one enter a second time into the mother’s womb and be born?” Jesus answered, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit. What is born of the flesh is flesh, and what is born of the Spirit is spirit. Do not be astonished that I said to you, ‘You must be born from above.’ The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.” Nicodemus said to him, “How can these things be?” Jesus answered him, “Are you a teacher of Israel, and yet you do not understand these things?

“Very truly, I tell you, we speak of what we know and testify to what we have seen; yet you do not receive our testimony. If I have told you about earthly things and you do not believe, how can you believe if I tell you about heavenly things? No one has ascended into heaven except the one who descended from heaven, the Son of Man. And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.

“For God so loved the church that he gave his only Son…

Sorry let me try that again

For God so loved humanity that he gave his only…

Nope, nope, wrong again. 

“For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life."

There we go! 

“Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him."

The Word of God for the People of God.

Please pray with me: O God, we are grateful that we can ask you big questions and you are not shy to answer. Speak to us from this most famous passage. Refresh our understanding. Guide our ways. In Christ’s name, I pray, Amen. 

Have you ever just wanted to start over again, to begin again fresh? I heard this story of a Bronx bus driver in the late 1940s who was tired of his mechanical life, of just doing the same thing day in, day out. And on one fateful morning, after he started his bus, he took a left turn, instead of a right turn which was his route, and started his journey to Florida. Life had lost its flavor, its excitement, so he wanted to change it up. 

In an interview, he said, "I was on the job for about 20 years and I really got tired of it all, up and down every day, the same people, the same stops, nickels, dimes, transfers... Well I thought I'd try something different, a new route... I come out of my garage and instead of making a right turn, I made a left turn. So I made this left turn and went west towards George Washington Bridge. It was a beautiful morning, sun was shining. I stopped for breakfast, and decided to take a little ride... before I knew it, I was right in front of the White House."

He was caught a few days later since he stole city property. What the newspapers didn’t tell you was that he also left behind his wife, a newborn baby, and a son. He never called his family to say where he was, they watched the events unfold on the news like everyone else. 

Okay so maybe you don’t want to begin again like this? Uprooting the mundane for adventure.

Maybe you just want to change up your routine. To drive a different route to work or school. Or try a different place to eat every once in a while, or find a new recipe. 

If you’ve noticed anything about me, it’s that I like to experiment and try new things often. I can’t even keep the same cell phone wallpaper for longer than a week. I yearn for the new. I yearn to see if something can be better. 

And Lent is the season when we reflect on our lives. But don’t think that this reflection is just about sitting quietly in a dark room, contemplating your faith journey. Action often accompanies reflection.  

A few weeks ago, I thought about how I was spending my time. That I was looking at my phone too often, refreshing social media apps. Through this reflection, I deleted the apps and now around the apartment, you’ll find me with a book in my hands. I mean really what’s the point if you reflect that something will be beneficial for you and your spirit and you do not take the steps, no matter how small they are, towards at least trying out a new course of action?

In the Bible translation, The Message, it is put this way: “How can anyone,” said Nicodemus, “be born who has already been born and grown up? You can’t re-enter your mother’s womb and be born again. What are you saying with this ‘born-from-above’ talk?”

Let’s get into our Gospel lesson.

Our Scripture passage today is about a Pharisee leader named Nicodemus who came to Jesus in the dark of night. Nicodemus begins with an observation. “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God; for no one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God”

In the Gospels, you should always pay attention to how Jesus is addressed. Nicodemus calls Jesus, Rabbi. He understands that he comes from God and is a religious teacher.

Jesus responds with an answer to a question Nicodemus did not ask. 

In Greek, Jesus begins by saying “Amen, Amen”, (So be it, so be it). This of course is how we end our prayers. Anytime we read, “Very truly” in John’s Gospel, it’s always Amen, Amen. The way to bold a saying in Greek is to repeat the word. It’s a flashing light telling us to pay attention. 

Jesus says, Amen, Amen, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above.

We hear the popular version of the passage from the King James Version, which says, “Verily, verily, I say unto thee, Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.”

The Greek word, anōthen can be translated “born again” as in the KJV, or 

“born from above” as in the NRSV. But it also has another meaning, which is anew. 

In other words, this word is bursting with meaning and no single meaning should be tacked to it. Instead, the fuller meaning should be applied when we hear this passage. We should hear that you cannot be the same and experience God’s Realm. God desires us to be moved by the Spirit, to have our lives, our hearts, be transformed. 

Nicodemus responds by asking how can one be transformed. Sure it sounds like Nicodemus was only understanding one understanding of anōthen, as being biologically born again. But the intention is still there. 

How can transformation happen in our lives? 

Jesus continues with another Amen, Amen, I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit. 

Jesus declares that not only are you to be born from above, again, and anew, but that we are to be born of water and the Spirit. This phrase is reminiscent of baptism. That we belong to God through this ancient ritual. 

Jesus continues with many more sayings about the Spirit, Moses, and healing. 

And our passage concludes with the climax, of course, John 3:16. Everyone who believes in Jesus will not perish but will have eternal life. Some, however, understand faith or “believing in Jesus” to be simply what you do with your mind. In John’s Gospel, being born from above and believing in Jesus are clearly not so much about what you do with your mind as about what you do with your heart and life.

Being reborn, and being transformed by God is only the beginning. Nicodemus’ story, like ours, doesn’t stop after God renews us. 

We are continually invited to open our imaginations and reconsider our relationship with God, which is the central focus of this text. Jesus invites Nicodemus, as he invites each of us, to come into the light of day and become mature believers, full participants in the abundant life he offers. Jesus knows that neither Nicodemus nor us can do this on our own. It is God who gives birth in water and Spirit. Rebirth is God’s gift to give, God’s work to accomplish.

May you continue this Lent to reflect and act out your faith.

May you ask questions like Nicodemus, but live our faith in the light. 

May we not be stagnant people, but open to the Spirit’s transformation. Amen.

Matthew 4:1-11

Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil. He fasted forty days and forty nights, and afterwards he was famished. The tempter came and said to him, “If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become loaves of bread.”

But he answered, “It is written,

‘One does not live by bread alone,

but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.’ ”

Then the devil took him to the holy city and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple,

saying to him, “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down; for it is written,

‘He will command his angels concerning you,’

and ‘On their hands they will bear you up,

so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.’ ”

Jesus said to him, “Again it is written, ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’ ”

Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor; and he said to him, “All these I will give you, if you will fall down and worship me.”

Jesus said to him, “Away with you, Satan! for it is written,

‘Worship the Lord your God,

and serve only him.’ ”

Then the devil left him, and suddenly angels came and waited on him.

The Word of God for the People of God

Please pray with me: O Loving, Sovereign Lord, be with us now as we mediate on this temptation story. Give us a new understanding of this well-known story. Strengthen us and give us the courage to fight against our temptations. In Christ’s name, I pray, Amen. 

In the first five centuries of Christianity, many stories that circulated about early followers of Jesus living in the desert and fighting demons. Many of the stories resemble our passage today where the demon is trying to trick the hermit in denying the power of God. 

One of the most famous hermits who this happened to was Anthony the Great, who was constantly being attacked. He even described what the demons looked like in great detail, which artists like Michelangelo would reference in paintings 1000 years after Anthony died. The painting of The Torment of Saint Anthony is incredible. It’s all these monster demons attacking him and Anthony just looks annoyed by the encounter. Like leave me alone, I’ve got things to do. 

One of the final stories about Anthony went like this: Once, Anthony tried to hide in a cave to escape the demons that plagued him. Except, there were so many little demons in the cave, that Anthony's servant had to carry him out because they had beaten him to death. When the hermits gathered at Anthony's corpse to mourn his death, Anthony was revived. He demanded that his servant take him back to the cave where the demons had beaten him. When he got there, Anthony called out to the demons, and they came back as wild beasts to rip him to shreds. But suddenly, a bright light flashed, and the demons ran away. Anthony knew that the light must have come from God, and so he prayed to ask where God was before when the demons attacked him. God replied, "I was here and could see your battle, and because you have mainly fought and well maintained your battle, I shall make your name to be spread through all the world.”

These kinds of stories were rampant in the first few centuries of Christianity. Demons in the ancient world were as populous as Philly sports fans in Philadelphia. You couldn’t turn a corner without running into one. I’m going to make a guess that most of us have never seen a demon with a physical body; rather it’s more popular now to have demonic voices come out of a possessed body. 

But really no matter what we think about demons, possession, or Satan, this is the Gospel lesson we have and an ancient view of the world accompanies it. 

Jesus is baptized right before our passage today. God calls him Beloved and then we read today that the Spirit leads Jesus out into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil. This goes against the way we understand and experience the Spirit. The Spirit moves us closer to God, not away to be tempted. The Spirit guides us in truth and wonder, not in testing our beliefs. Why would the Spirit lead Jesus into temptation then? It makes me wonder if the Lord’s prayer has a hint of personal experience when Jesus prays not to be led into temptation and delivered from evil. He doesn’t want to go through a desert experience again. 

While in the wilderness, Jesus fasts for forty days and forty nights. This biblical number is found throughout the Hebrew Bible. It rained for forty days and nights while Noah and his family were on the ark and then once it stopped raining, he waited forty days and nights to send out a bird to see if there was dry land. Jonah told Nineveh they had 40 days to repent. Moses went to Mount Sinai to hear from God on three different occasions for 40 days each. In the Bible, forty represents important time periods. It’s like a big flashing sign telling you to pay attention to this moment. 

Jesus fasts for forty days and nights and it says that he was famished. How could you be anything but famished? And it’s while Jesus is in this vulnerable state that the tempter comes to test him. 

The tempter first asks, “Since you are the Son of God, command these stones to become loaves of bread.” Jesus responds by reminding the tempter that one does not live by bread alone. 

On the surface, the first temptation seems to be about comfort, as if the devil says, “You have great power — and look, you’re dreadfully hungry. Why not make some bread, and take, and eat?” But on a deeper level, the temptation boils down to this: Why not sustain yourself? You have the power on your own; you don’t need God to sustain you. 

How often are we tempted in this same way? Instead of taking our time to discern and trust in God. We want to decide on our own. We can be too stubborn for our own good.

The devil then takes Jesus to the pinnacle of the temple in the holy city. The devil tempts him by quoting Scripture, saying that angels will not let Jesus fall to his death. Jesus does not jump but offers a counter Scripture about not testing God.

The second temptation seems to be about security. Prove that you’re God’s beloved! We all just heard at Jesus’ baptism that you are, but let’s see it in action. 

This kind of temptation can run wild in our minds. We can create these little tests where we play a mental game with God. Growing up, I had a friend who played basketball with me and everything was a weird test for him. He would say at the start of a game of HORSE that if he won the game, it meant that so and so had a crush on him, or even worse, whoever won meant that they were going to heaven and the loser to hell. 

Remember: listen to Jesus and don’t test God, you’re only playing mind games on yourself. 

For the last temptation, the devil took Jesus to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor; and he said to him, “All these I will give you, if you will fall down and worship me.”

Jesus said to him, “Away with you, Satan! for it is written,

‘Worship the Lord your God,

and serve only him.’”

This final temptation is about power and glory. Worship me, and all this can be yours! But again, Jesus exposes the true stakes by quoting Scripture again. God is the graceful fountain not only of nourishment but also of loving-kindness and graceful, genuine power — not the anxious, cheap power peddled by the tempter.

After the devil left him, suddenly angels came and waited on him. After Jesus endured these temptations, angels comforted him. Just as we go through difficult situations and need a respite, so did Jesus. I hope these angels brought some food for him, just as the angel of the Lord did for Elijah.

Within these temptations are good questions for us to ponder on our Lenten journey: 

Whom do you trust for your nourishment? 

Whom do you trust to love and care for you? 

And whom do you trust with your service? 

While our temptations are often not so obvious as being transported by the devil to a high mountain, temptations are still present and complex. 

May you, this Lent, take time to discern God’s voice and hear what you need to give up or add into your life. 

May we as a church continue to find nourishment in God’s Word, in singing, and in communing with one another. 

And may we be led by the Spirit into new horizons of love and comfort, Amen.

Matthew 17:1-9

Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and his brother John and led them up a high mountain, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly there appeared to them Moses and Elijah, talking with him. Then Peter said to Jesus, “Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I will make three dwellings here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” While he was still speaking, suddenly a bright cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud a voice said, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” When the disciples heard this, they fell to the ground and were overcome by fear. But Jesus came and touched them, saying, “Get up and do not be afraid.” And when they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus himself alone.

As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus ordered them, “Tell no one about the vision until after the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.”

The Word of God for the People of God.

Please pray with me: O Transfiguring God, lead us up to the mountaintop that we may experience your glory. Let us hear God’s voice and feel your comforting touch. I pray this in Christ’s name, Amen.

When I started at Broadway Presbyterian Church in NYC, I had two main tasks: to create a weekly program for young adults and to be the chaplain of the soup kitchen and homeless shelter. In that first year, I helped start a Pub Theology group that met at a bar within walking distance from the church. Each week we’d discuss a different theological topic. Sometimes it was historical understandings of the Trinity and other times it was how our Sunday School faith shapes our faith now. As for the soup kitchen and homeless shelter. I stayed over in the shelter once a week. And once a month we’d throw a birthday party and I would invite magicians or musicians to come and entertain us for the evening. Those are some of my favorite memories from the shelter.

Then I stayed on at Broadway Pres for another year as a pastoral intern. The programs I started in my first year continued and grew. We then decided to add a monthly community meal in the church sanctuary. So I helped spearhead that. I recruited 50 volunteers each month to help serve the 200 guests. And it felt like things were not slowing down. 

That next year I started a summer youth group program that catered to over 15 youth groups in just that first summer and continued for three more years. And that was on top of everything else that was going on! 

I remember asking my boss, “Are we ever going to catch our breath?” And he said, “You can’t cage the Spirit, it’s loose and on the move!” Clearly, the answer was no. He is also taking his first sabbatical after being at the same church for 14 years. 

Ministry, I’ve realized, has ebbs and flows, and God’s Spirit gives us the energy to continue in God’s mission for the world. 

Lately, at least for me, the world feels like a fragile place. There are health scares in our congregation and those related to us. The tragedy on the Ohio and Pennsylvania border with the train crash and the burning of those dangerous chemicals have been affecting the health of humans, animals, and the environment. The earthquake on the Turkey and Syrian border, just a few weeks ago, has killed more than 45,000 people and the numbers continue to rise. More mass shootings across our country. And now we must worry about things floating in the sky. My gosh, how are we not all going mad?

It's good to take a breath, turn off the news, and find comfort that you are not God. And that God can handle all of this, which is one of the themes of the Transfiguration passage. 

Today concludes the season of Epiphany. We began with the Magi visiting the infant Jesus bringing gifts to God incarnate. We continued by hearing the story of Jesus’ baptism where God announced that Jesus is the Beloved Son. And in these last few weeks, we heard revelatory encounters with Jesus and in Jesus’ teaching from the Sermon on the Mount where he proclaims that he is the fulfillment of the law and the prophets.

Today God speaks again, very similar to what was said at Jesus’ baptism, but now the phrase “Listen to him” has been added.

The passage opens with “Six days later,” which doesn’t seem to reference anything in the Gospel narrative. As I’ve said before, Matthew shows how Jesus is the new Moses. In Exodus 24, we hear that “Moses went up on the mountain, and the cloud covered the mountain. The glory of the Lord settled on Mount Sinai, and the cloud covered it for six days; on the seventh day God called to Moses out of the cloud.” 

Jesus though did not go up alone, like Moses. He brought with him Peter, James, and John. While they were there, Jesus was transfigured before the three disciples' very eyes. The Greek word for transfiguration is metamorphosis. I think we would understand the story a bit differently if it was called The Metamorphosis of Jesus. 

Remember too it is Jesus’ appearance that is changed, not Jesus himself. In other words, for Matthew the changed appearance reveals who Jesus really is, who he has been all along; it does not transform him into someone new. 

And as their eyes are fixated on the shining Jesus, Elijah and Moses appear. These are the only two figures in Hebrew history who did not die according to ancient traditions. In Second Kings Elijah was taken up by a chariot, and later Jewish commentaries explained how Moses also did not die but was taken by God. 

Peter responds to the vision of the three standing there by volunteering to build three tents. In Mark’s Gospel, he explains that Peter does not know what to say and speaks out of fear (Mark 9:9), but Matthew omits this explanation. But before Peter could get out another thought, the passage says, “While Peter was still speaking, suddenly a bright cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud a voice said, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!”” Peter was interrupted by God! Almost to say, “Quiet down with the nonsense, don’t sentimentalize this moment, it’s bigger than all of this!”

The disciples fall to the ground and were overcome by fear, and Jesus came over and gently touched them, saying, “Get up and do not be afraid.” And they head down the mountain after just having this profound experience. 

But we must be careful not to focus on the disciples’ experience as if that is the climax of the story. The story is not about them. Jesus is not transfigured for their benefit; he is simply transfigured. Moses and Elijah do not talk to the disciples but to Jesus. Even when the heavenly voice finally addresses the disciples, it speaks to them about Jesus, putting a bright, white exclamation point on Peter’s confession of Jesus as the Christ, the Son of the living God, which was proclaimed just a chapter earlier (16:16).

The moment of transfiguration is that point at which God says to the world and to each of us that there is nothing we can do to prepare for 

or stand in the way of joy or sorrow. 

We cannot build God a monument, and we cannot keep God safe. 

We cannot escape God, Immanuel among us. 

God will find us in our homes and in our workplaces. 

God will find us when our hearts are broken and when we discover joy. 

God will find us when we run away and when we are sitting in the middle of what seems like hell. 

Jesus has been transfigured. He is the Lord of all. Give him your worries, fears, and joy. God will take care of us. May it be so, Amen.

Matthew 5:21-37

“You have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, ‘You shall not murder’; and ‘whoever murders shall be liable to judgment.’ But I say to you that if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgment; and if you insult a brother or sister, you will be liable to the council; and if you say, ‘You fool,’ you will be liable to the hell of fire. So when you are offering your gift at the altar, if you remember that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your brother or sister, and then come and offer your gift. Come to terms quickly with your accuser while you are on the way to court with him, or your accuser may hand you over to the judge, and the judge to the guard, and you will be thrown into prison. Truly I tell you, you will never get out until you have paid the last penny.

“You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’ But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lust has already committed adultery with her in his heart. If your right eye causes you to sin, tear it out and throw it away; it is better for you to lose one of your members than for your whole body to be thrown into hell. And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away; it is better for you to lose one of your members than for your whole body to go into hell.

“It was also said, ‘Whoever divorces his wife, let him give her a certificate of divorce.’ But I say to you that anyone who divorces his wife, except on the ground of unchastity, causes her to commit adultery; and whoever marries a divorced woman commits adultery.

“Again, you have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, ‘You shall not swear falsely, but carry out the vows you have made to the Lord.’ But I say to you, Do not swear at all, either by heaven, for it is the throne of God, or by the earth, for it is his footstool, or by Jerusalem, for it is the city of the great King. And do not swear by your head, for you cannot make one hair white or black. Let your word be ‘Yes, Yes’ or ‘No, No’; anything more than this comes from the evil one. 

The Word of God for the People of God.

Please pray with me: O God, teach us, we pray. Give us the courage to live out our faith in bold ways. In Christ’s name, I pray, Amen.

When I read poetry, my eyes are always searching for little pieces of wisdom. When I find something that resonates with me, I type it into a section in my Notes app titled Poetry to Live By.

It’s full of quotes by Rainer Maria Rilke, Mary Oliver, Joy Harjo, Tracy K Smith, and many more. Usually when I write a new quote in there, I go back and read old ones. I am always inspired. 

One of my favorite lines comes at the end of Joy Harjo’s poem titled “For Calling the Spirit Back from Wandering the Earth in Its Human Feet”.  She writes:

“Now you can have a party. Invite everyone you know who loves and supports you. Keep room for those who have no place else to go.

Make a giveaway, and remember, keep the speeches short.

Then, you must do this: help the next person find their way through the dark.”

Then there’s also Mary Oliver’s famous line:

“Tell me, what is it you plan to do

with your one wild and precious life?”

It’s lines like these and from the Sermon on the Mount that help ground me in reality. Sometimes I, like all of us, can focus our attention only on what is around us. The world is populated with over 9 billion people, but sometimes we live as if our lives are the most important ones. Our feathers can get ruffled by someone’s passing comment, but they are just having a lousy day and it has nothing to do with you. Or we take work, school, or whatever else we get up to too seriously and make these situations into life and death when they’re really just new moments to learn something about yourself and those around you. God has given us grace upon grace, and yet it’s hard for us to do that for ourselves. 

It is possible to approach today’s four teachings from Jesus in a legalistic manner. That Jesus taught that either you are sinning or not sinning; that you are right with God or out of line with God; that if you are ever divorced or have gotten angry with another person that you are less than righteous. 

As I’ve said, God gives us grace over and over and over again. God understands our situations and knows our hearts. There is no one like that in your life except for God. So remember to not be so hard on others when they don’t see where you’re coming from. 

This portion of the Sermon on the Mount contains the first four of what are called “the six antitheses.” In each antithesis, Jesus will posit what has been said from the law, and then answer with a response that begins, “but I say to you ….” Today, Jesus focuses on four subjects drawn from Exodus and Deuteronomy (murder, adultery, divorce, and oaths), reframing each one in a way that goes straight to the heart of the matter. 

But what ties these four teachings together? It’s the disposition of the heart. Don’t let anger or lust turn your heart against your neighbor; instead, incline your heart toward friendship and respect. Don’t let callous disregard turn your heart against your spouse; instead, incline your heart toward kindness and responsibility. And don’t bother with oaths at all; let your word, the integrity of your heart, be strong and trustworthy. This is the true meaning, spirit, and substance of “you shall not murder,” “you shall not commit adultery,” and so on. These are the contours of the healthy community that the law, properly understood, helps us make: a community of friendship and respect, kindness and responsibility, humility and integrity.

In this section of Jesus’ sermon, despite what some Christian interpreters say, Jesus is not “raising the bar” of the law, or “internalizing” the law, or “broadening” the law, or otherwise “altering” the law. After all, he has just said that he intends to change “not one letter, not one stroke of a letter” of the law (Mt 5:18)! Rather, he’s expounding the true meaning, spirit, and substance of the law, the same law given at Sinai, the same law intended to provide the ancient Israelites with a tangible, everyday framework for “loving God and walking in the way of righteousness” (Deut 30:16).  

In short, like Moses, Jesus insists that truly following the law isn’t only about outward actions; it’s also about the inward dispositions of the heart. We should refrain from homicidal murder, for example, and also from the lesser forms of violence that can and do happen through attitudes, words, and actions.

Let me quickly touch on each of these teachings. 

Last week, we heard Jesus say, “For I tell you, unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.” This line frames the rest of the Sermon on the Mount. 

So Jesus teaches us that our righteousness, being right with God and neighbor, needs to go further than “not murdering.” It includes even anger and insults that would alienate us from one another. Reconciliation with an offended person takes precedence even over acts of worship, as we heard concerning offerings. One is first to be reconciled with the offender and only then to come and offer one’s gift. Our righteousness restraints the violence in our actions and in our hearts. 

Our righteousness too is not only about not committing adultery but that it’s about establishing a mode of respect for how we look at others, prohibiting our tendency to see others as means to an end or reducing others to be an object of our own pleasure. Our righteousness then is a more relational view of the world and less transactional. 

Our righteousness does not presume upon technical or legal permissions. By the custom of that day, divorce was technically permitted. It was even made easy if a proper certificate was given. Notably, the question only pertains to a man who “divorces his wife” (5:13) and never to a woman divorcing her husband. Women were always disadvantaged by divorce due to their complete economic dependency on their husbands. In other words, our righteousness is not always aligned with what is legal.

Our righteousness has our “yes” means “yes,” and “no” means “no;” so that one need not swear at all. Our righteousness entails truthfulness. 

Of course, there is so much more to be said about these verses. I didn’t even get to all the cool wordplay in this passage. I can see why some pastors like to preach sermon series.

Let me end in this way: Jesus came to set us free. To show us how to love God and love one another. He did not come to burden us with an impossible form of righteousness. May you hear our Scripture this morning, not as a set of rules, but as an invitation to live out God’s Realm every day. God gives us grace, accept it, and share it. Amen.

Matthew 5:13-20

You are the salt of the earth; but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything, but is thrown out and trampled under foot.

“You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hid. No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.

“Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfill. For truly I tell you, until heaven and earth pass away, not one letter, not one stroke of a letter, will pass from the law until all is accomplished. Therefore, whoever breaks one of the least of these commandments, and teaches others to do the same, will be called least in the kingdom of heaven; but whoever does them and teaches them will be called great in the kingdom of heaven. For I tell you, unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.

The Word of God for the People of God

Please pray with me: O God of light and salt, may we abide by your Son’s teachings as we live 2,000 years later. May we find a deeper understanding in your Word on salt, light, and law. Quiet all other thoughts within us and may we focus on you. In Christ’s name, I pray, Amen.

Unsalty salt is a contradiction in terms like water losing its wetness. If it is not salty, it is not salt. But, you must understand, the salt used in the ancient world was seldom pure sodium chloride. The “salt” collected around the Dead Sea contained a mixture of other minerals, and it is possible to imagine the true salt content being washed out, leaving a less than tasty residue. 

In any case, Jesus is not teaching chemistry on the Sermon on the Mount. Instead, he presents this imagery of trying to “salt” that which should itself be the source of saltiness. This is a powerful indictment of disciples who have lost their distinctiveness and so no longer have anything to contribute to society. 

The verb which is translated “lost its taste” or “tasteless” could also literally mean “become foolish.” The verb points to the metaphorical role of the salt here: to symbolize the wholesome flavor of wisdom which disciples are to contribute. Today as then, we use “taste” to speak of an aesthetic rather than an intellectual quality.

Perhaps you’ve said, “They have good taste” especially when they like the same band, tv show, or book as you. Or you might say that something is done in poor taste or even that it’s just tacky. I like to toe the line of being too obscure and downright corny, without being ironic. 

A few years ago, cultural critic Rax King wrote a book of essays titled, “Tacky: Love Letters to the Worst Culture We Have to Offer.” I ate it up because Rax and I are the same age and nearly all of the essays are cultural landmarks that I know and still love.

She first learned about the word tacky from her mom who would describe her mother-in-law who wore lots of leopard skin and way into collecting angels as tacky. But Rax helped me to redefine tacky. She wrote: 

“As far as I'm concerned, tackiness is joyfulness. To be proudly tacky, your aperture for all the too—much feelings angst, desire, joy—must be all the way open. You've got to be so much more ready to feel everything than anyone probably wants to be. It's a brutal way to live.

What fruits will you reap? Well, you'll do a lot of stuff and be a lot of fun at parties. Your friends will be exhausted; you'll need to make, like, six additional friends because they'll have to work in shifts to accommodate the amount of time you'll spend in emotional crisis. But you'll also be a relentless optimist.”

Jesus says that we are the salt of the earth, full of flavor, and not bland. When salt becomes ordinary, Jesus says it is simply thrown out into the street as trash. Our calling as people of faith is to be distinct in the ways we move about in the world. And if you need reminded what that means, it’s about producing the fruits of Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control; it means speaking in love, and depending on the Savior of the world, knowing that no one, no politician, pastor, or any other leader compares to Christ.

So be the saltiest salt you can be. Bland Christians are oxymorons.

As we continue in the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus says “You are the light of the world.”

Jesus isn’t giving his listeners a new role to play; rather, he’s naming who we already are. We don’t have to work to become light. God made us this way, blessing us with gifts that can bless the world. But we do have to claim and embrace and live out these gifts. We do have to actually be luminous, fulfilling and embodying what our gifts make possible. We do have to be who we are.

Let me pause here and ask: 

Are we “shining examples” of God’s light in the world? 

Do people have cause to praise God because of us? 

Jesus uses in this passage the illustration of a city set on a hill. The community of disciples cannot be a closed community, an “introverted secret society shielding itself from the world.” Our witness is public.

Recently someone shared that they were not having a good day, but when they went into work, they stopped by a new acquaintance who said “You have a glow to you. There’s just something about you.” This is part of our witness as followers of Jesus. Not that every day is going to be perfect or that we’re never going to be in a bad mood, but that we refuse to let our light go dim based on our circumstances.

For the last four weeks, we’ve been talking about our personal prayer lives and how we share our faith. This week, we hear two ways of participating in evangelism: to be a distinct witness for Christ by being our saltiest, and by shining our light as bright as we can.

One of the ways we share our faith is just by being ourselves,

By showing grace and hope, instead of despair. 

By listening to understand, rather than wanting to talk over someone.

By lending a hand, instead of ignoring the problem. 

By being gentle and compassionate, rather than harsh and mean.

And let me just say people pay attention, even when you think they’re not. It’s always interesting to me what stood out from an encounter or situation. How they felt welcomed or ignored. Or that they remember a comment you made in passing that you’ve forgotten, but they held onto. We must pay attention to how we witness for Christ. 

In our passage today, Jesus concludes with “Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfill.”

The basic sense is clear: Jesus’ teaching is not opposed to the law and the prophets, nor is it meant to undermine or eliminate them (v. 17). Rather, Jesus’ teaching is said to fulfill (v. 17) and enact (v. 18) the law in its entirety. These verses also highlight the distinctive righteousness demanded of the disciples of Jesus, a righteousness that “exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees” (v. 20).

When thinking about Jesus and the Jewish law, which Jesus followed because he was Jewish, there are three foundational thoughts I want to highlight. 

First, Jesus brought into being what the law and prophets promised. It’s not just that he continues to preach about the law on the Sermon on the Mount, but that he fulfills the law by living it out.

Second, Jesus himself did what the law and prophets in fact require of us. His life was molded by the law, and it defined his vocation and the conduct of his life. 

Lastly, Jesus taught and lived the deeper meaning of the law, which is best understood in terms of the love command on which “hang all the law and the prophets” (22:40). All the laws concerning tithing, ritual purity, and Sabbath observance remain in place, but they are subordinate to the love command. Love exceeds these. It requires more and not less than the law. 

In other words, Jesus never tossed the baby out with bathwater. He fulfilled the law and taught how love outweighs religious and cultural rituals. 

Overall, our three sections from the Sermon on the Mount give us much to consider as persons of faith and as a church.

What kind of salt are we? 

Are we distinctive in how we live, care, and show up for others?

Is our light bright for all to see or is it fixed in a particular direction?

Or do we hide our light sometimes when it’s not comfortable?

And finally, are we letting love dictate the law and traditions we’ve created? 

May you be open to these questions and be open to God’s leading. 

Be salty and shine your light bright. Amen.

Matthew 5:1-12

When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain; and after he sat down, his disciples came to him. Then he began to speak, and taught them, saying:

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.

“Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.

“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.

“Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.

“Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.

“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.

“Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

“Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.

Pastor: The Word of God for the People of God.

All: Thanks be to God.

Please pray with me: O God of Blessings, shower us with your grace this morning. Our hearts are open. Teach us of your Realm. Guide us in your ways, Amen. 

We are at the beginning of Jesus’ most famous sermon, the Sermon on the Mount. And like most popular things, people only know what happens at the start. This is why there are internet lists of opening sentences of famous books and not quotes from middle chapters. 

These twelves verses that open chapter five are called The Beatitudes. In ancient Judaism, these were wisdom sayings which made a connection between a person’s deeds and what happens to that person. 

The Dead Sea Scrolls were discovered 70 years and one of the documents they found was aptly named The Beatitudes Scroll. The archeologists believe it was written 50 years before Jesus. 

I’ll read two of these beatitudes. Just a point of information, when you hear the pronoun “her,” it is referring to Wisdom.

Blessed are those who rejoice because of her and who do not spread themselves in the ways of folly.

Blessed is he who seeks her with pure hands and who does not go after her with a deceitful heart.

I wanted to give some perspective to show that beatitudes were not unique to Jesus per se, but that they were around before and after him. In a much bigger way though Jesus changes how beatitudes were understood. 

Now growing up, I heard many interpretations of these sayings of blessings. Some understood that these sayings were not for now, but in the future, that they were for those after the Second Coming. I had also heard an over spiritualized and individualized interpretation of the beatitudes, where the poor in spirit are those without God but are seeking, and peacemakers are those who make peace in their own home.

My pushback would be why would crowds want to hear what’s going to happen in a future that doesn’t really concern them presently? And why would you need to over spiritualize, unless you don’t like the implications for the present?

It wasn’t until I was in my twenties that I heard of another way of living out the Beatitudes. That is by making them into an ethic. Leo Tolstoy, the famous Russian author, became a zealot for Christ because of the Sermon on the Mount. He became poor, much to the dismay of his wife and children, who still wanted to continue eating and living in a house. Tolstoy became vegetarian and lived out being a peacemaker by not harming any human or animal. 

This kind of ethic was also found early in the theology of the Anabaptists who are the Mennonites, Brethren in Christ, and the Amish today. When you read John Calvin write about the Beatitudes, he was so concerned with how incorrect the Anabaptists were. But also Calvin’s understanding of the Beatitudes was nothing extraordinary either. 

The Beatitudes make us aware of who God has blessed. And, of course, they’re still not the people we’d like to think of as blessed. 

How can the person asking for change as he dodges in and out of lanes as you wait for the light to turn green, how is he blessed? 

How is the one still grieving the loss of her loved one or the loss of how things used to be, still not feeling settled, how is she blessed? 

How is the meek, the ones we consider act like a doormat, how are they blessed? 

Let’s dive in:

For Matthew, Jesus is a kind of “New Moses” — and like the original Moses, Jesus delivers life-giving teaching from a mountainside. Just as the Torah begins with the divine blessings of creation and exodus from enslavement, Jesus begins with a surprising, counterintuitive map of divine blessing in everyday life.

Jesus’ list of blessings frustrates any attempt to turn it into a “how to” manual. Many Christian interpreters distort the Beatitudes into a litany of religious “shoulds,” when in fact it’s essentially a litany of “congratulations,” a map of who is truly blessed, not a set of instructions about how to acquire divine blessing. Items in the list like “those who mourn” and “those who are persecuted” help make this clear: Jesus is hardly recommending that his listeners go and create conditions of mourning or persecution for themselves! Rather, he’s delivering good news to those already in mourning or persecution, or those who, through no efforts of their own, find themselves in such circumstances later on. 

The Beatitudes are not imperatives. They are not commandments. They are not “ethics.” They are declarations of divine blessing, and as such, they are cause for consolation, gratitude, and joy. The time for instruction comes later; indeed, Jesus will turn to instruction for most of the rest of this famous sermon. But blessing comes first! 

Think of it this way: if we distort the beatitudes into duties, or worse, into a supposed method for acquiring divine blessing, we’ll miss Jesus’ primary point. God’s blessings are already among us, surprising and gracious, world-turning and beautiful, and we’re called to live lives that are responsive to those blessings at every turn. Preacher and scholar Fred Craddock once put it, when it comes to divine blessing, our lives are to be lived “because of,” not “in order to” — and that’s only possible, after all, if blessing comes first.

The first four beatitudes declare blessing for those who were traditionally understood as being defended by God: the poor, those who mourn, the meek, and those who hunger and thirst for righteousness. 

The second set blesses those who do what is right by being merciful and pure in heart, making peace and enduring the persecution that attends following in the way of Jesus Christ. When one’s life is characterized by the attributes highlighted in the beatitudes, two things are assured: blessedness on the one hand and persecution on the other.

As I’ve said, the Beatitudes are not direct calls to action, to become poor in spirit, to mourn, to be meek, and so forth. Rather, the Beatitudes are promises. Indirectly, of course, the Beatitudes do imply that people who have responded positively to God’s Realm among us now will manifest the values and behaviors that are exemplified in the Beatitudes. However, we must not move too quickly to hunger and thirst for righteousness, to become merciful, and to be pure in heart, and so forth, because this runs the risk of drifting into legalism and works righteousness.

The Beatitudes open the eyes of our hearts to see who God has truly blessed. While we may not understand how God blesses the poor, the meek, or the mourners, we are called to have eyes of compassion to see them as God see them. 

Remember: Jesus preached to crowds primarily who were sick, afflicted, and those who care for them. He said, in effect, “The world may not regard you as blessed, but the truth is, you are the blessed ones! God’s reign of heaven turns the world upside down — and that world-turning reign is at hand!

May you be open this week to see God’s blessed around you.

May you see the blessings within you already and share them with others. Amen.

Matthew 4:12-23

Now when Jesus heard that John had been arrested, he withdrew to Galilee. He left Nazareth and made his home in Capernaum by the sea, in the territory of Zebulun and Naphtali, so that what had been spoken through the prophet Isaiah might be fulfilled:

“Land of Zebulun, land of Naphtali,

on the road by the sea, across the Jordan, Galilee of the Gentiles—

the people who sat in darkness

have seen a great light,

and for those who sat in the region and shadow of death

light has dawned.”

From that time Jesus began to proclaim, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.”

As he walked by the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon, who is called Peter, and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea—for they were fishermen. And he said to them, “Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.” Immediately they left their nets and followed him. As he went from there, he saw two other brothers, James son of Zebedee and his brother John, in the boat with their father Zebedee, mending their nets, and he called them. Immediately they left the boat and their father, and followed him.

Jesus went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing every disease and every sickness among the people.

The Word of God for the People of God!

Please pray with me: O Holy One, you call us still. We sometimes forget to quiet all the other voices within us. May we do so now that we may listen with our hearts, ears, and head. Teach us, O Lord, Amen.

It seems only appropriate to hear call stories during the season of epiphany and during the first few weeks of the new year. For me, at least, these stories remind me of my own call stories, ones where there’s a paradigm shift in my thinking, acting, and being. Where I couldn’t look at the world the same. One of those call stories happened when I was in my second semester of college and I wanted to understand as much as I could about what it meant to live on the streets of Philly. My friend and I took the Regional Rail from Wayne to Suburban Station and had only $20. We planned to spend the weekend in Center City and find corners of the city to sleep. The whole thing turned out to be a bust. I lost our money within the first two hours; it rained the entire time so we couldn’t settle anywhere and had to walk all night. I called my cousin the next morning who drove us back after buying us breakfast. Because of that evening of unrest, my body didn’t fully recover for about a week. Of course, I didn’t have to do it in order to understand that no one should be unhoused, but I guess I needed to feel the severity of the situation. 

We all have call stories. Sometimes they are gentle when our family shows us the way of living Christ-like lives. Sometimes they are in your face and it’s only because of a tragic event that our heartstrings are pulled to God. Or other times, it comes about from reading Scripture, being open, or trying out spiritual practices until one finds a home in you. 

It is interesting thinking about evangelism on the other side of a call story. I wonder if the circumstances which helped change and shape you could also be done for others. Imagine what it might be like if you became the ears of Christ for someone who is sharing a difficult story, or the feet and arms of Christ by assisting those whose life is out of balance.

Today we come to the beginning of Jesus’ public ministry. He’s been baptized by John and tempted by Satan in the wilderness.

Then we hear that when Jesus heard that John had been arrested, it says that he “withdrew” to Galilee. This is the same word used when Mary and Joseph flee with the baby Jesus, under Herod’s threat. The word translated as “withdrew” is only used twice in the other Gospels, but Matthew uses it ten times—as describing Jesus’ response to threats. For John the Baptist to be arrested could also hinder Jesus’ ministry, so he left his hometown and ministered in a place where he was not known. This new spot was also part of an ancient prophecy that Jesus fulfilled.

Then from that time, Jesus began to proclaim, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.”

Many have difficulty understanding the “kingdom of heaven” references in Matthew since Mark and Luke use the phrase “the kingdom of God.” As Bible scholar N. T. Wright notes, these are not teachings about how to go to heaven. They are not about “our escape from this world into another one, but to God’s sovereign rule coming ‘on earth as it is in heaven.’” This is not about the future, but the present reality of salvation. 

Jesus then walks by the Sea of Galilee, sees the two brothers Simon and Andrew who were fishing, and tells them “Follow me and I will make you fish for people,” and they immediately drop their nets and follow him. Then a little further around the lake, Jesus encounters James and John, and the same event occurs. 

It’s worth noting that Jesus doesn’t say to the first disciples, “Believe in this way of thinking, and follow me” or “Worship me and then follow,” or even, “Believe in me as your Lord and Savior.” He simply says, “Follow me.” The sheer minimalism of the call is striking. It may signal that while beliefs and behavior do play a role in discipleship, they’re not really the heart of the matter; rather, walking alongside Jesus is the heart of the matter: listening, reflecting, learning, and listening again. For the German theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the most remarkable thing about Jesus’ call is that it’s “void of all content.” There’s no program here, no platform, no set of opinions or list of rules. Only a call to companionship, to closeness, to living together as we walk toward God’s reign. 

Jesus forms a new community to share in the work. Most rabbis did not seek out their students but rather were sought by them. Here, by contrast, all the initiative rests with Jesus. He comes to them, he sees them, and he calls them to follow. They are called to follow him; to walk in the way that he is walking as he proclaims and makes manifest the reign of heaven.

The call to discipleship is thus presented not as something chosen by the disciples, but as the decisive, commanding act of Jesus. Because the kingdom of heaven has come near, there are no compromises to be made with the world as it is. This is unlike our modern notion of discipleship, in which “disciples” typically weigh, choose, and pursue their “calling” largely on their own terms. 

Very often the church has called people to discipleship without making clear the vision of the kingdom of God. The kingdom has been presented as an equivalent to going to heaven after one dies, rather than what it is, the active presence and rule of God in one’s life, in the world, and in all creation. The church as Christ’s body is to model the kingdom, to give people a clear vision of what life with God is like. The values, vision, and passion of God’s Realm are to take life in the local church so that people see the benefits. This vision, concretely lived out by the church, provides the motivation to fulfill the call to discipleship. 

Yet, how do we discern and follow God’s call? 

Are there nets that God is calling us to drop today, ways of life we are ready to “immediately” leave behind? 

Has the decisive moment arrived? 

Do we hear an invitation from Jesus to strike out in a new direction toward the fruits of the Spirit and God’s Reign? 

Have we been resisting this kind of call, or dragging our feet? 

Perhaps the best thing we can do to clarify our calling is to keep these questions warm, returning to them again and again. 

It is our responsibility, in the midst of the many voices calling us, to know the person of God so well that we are able to discern what voices are consistent with the God who created us, with Christ who redeemed us, and the Spirit who sustains us in and through the body of Christ. Amen.

John 1:29-42

The next day John the Baptist saw Jesus coming toward him and declared, “Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world! This is he of whom I said, ‘After me comes a man who ranks ahead of me because he was before me.’ I myself did not know him; but I came baptizing with water for this reason, that he might be revealed to Israel.” And John testified, “I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove, and it remained on him. I myself did not know him, but the one who sent me to baptize with water said to me, ‘He on whom you see the Spirit descend and remain is the one who baptizes with the Holy Spirit.’ And I myself have seen and have testified that this is the Son of God.”

The next day John again was standing with two of his disciples, and as he watched Jesus walk by, he exclaimed, “Look, here is the Lamb of God!” The two disciples heard him say this, and they followed Jesus. When Jesus turned and saw them following, he said to them, “What are you looking for?” They said to him, “Rabbi” (which translated means Teacher), “where are you staying?” He said to them, “Come and see.” They came and saw where he was staying, and they remained with him that day. It was about four o’clock in the afternoon. One of the two who heard John speak and followed him was Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother. He first found his brother Simon and said to him, “We have found the Messiah” (which is translated Anointed). He brought Simon to Jesus, who looked at him and said, “You are Simon, son of John. You are to be called Cephas” (which is translated Peter).

The Word of God for the People of God!

Please pray with me: O Lamb of God and our Faithful Shepherd, continue to guide us as we follow you. Open our hearts this morning as we hear your Word. Transform us, O Lord, so that we may transform all that is around us. In Christ’s name I pray, Amen.

There’s a hymn that is very appropriate for today: “You, Lord, Are Both Lamb and Shepherd” or it’s also titled “Christus Paradox.” It was written by Canadian hymn writer Sylvia Dunstan. It would have been be nice to include, but in our Sing the Faith hymnal, the melody is overly complex. 

I’ll just share sections from the lyrics: 

You Lord are both Lamb and Shepherd. 

Clothed in light upon the mountain, stripped of might upon the cross. 

You walk each day beside us, you sit in power at God’s side.

You preach a way that’s narrow, you have a love that reaches wide.

Theological terms are often paradoxical and do not follow a logic that we are accustom to. And it’s okay, both things can be true: Lamb and Shepherd, Three in One and One in Three, Servant and Lord of All. 

There are some passages like today’s that are a head scratcher, at least for me. 

Why is John the Baptist calling Jesus the Lamb of God so early in the Gospel when Holy Week doesn’t start for 12 more chapters? 

Why does the Gospel writer start both stories with “The next day John”? Why does John the Baptist only talk about the baptismal event that we heard last week, but Jesus doesn’t actually get baptized here? 

And one last question that comes up, although I have many more: why was John the only one who saw the Spirit as a dove unlike the other Gospels where only Jesus does? 

There’s really so much in our passage that it could take a few weeks to preach, but with God’s help, I’ll do my best with only today. 

We hear two stories. 

The first is a declaration of Jesus’ identity and mission by John the Baptist. Jesus is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world, he will baptize with the Holy Spirit, and is the Son of God. The second story is the call story of Andrew and Simon Peter, who we are told, only in John’s Gospel, that they were John the Baptist’s disciples. 

On the supposed first day, before the next day, and then the next day, John the Baptist was not baptizing at all. He was in Bethany, close to the wilderness, but not in it. He was having a conversation with Levites and priests who were sent from Jerusalem to ask him who he was, similar to what Pilate will do to Jesus during Holy Week. John the Baptist tells them that he’s not Elijah or a prophet, but a voice calling out in the wilderness for the Messiah, who is coming after him. 

And then after this conversation, the next day, John the Baptist sees Jesus coming towards him and declares, ““Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world! This is he of whom I said, ‘After me comes a man who ranks ahead of me because he was before me.’”

I can hear the excitement resounding from John the Baptist. It’s this moment for him where he can stand proud and show the naysayers and his disciples that he was correct! 

When we hear phrases though about the Lamb of God, we might have a particular image or theological understanding engrained in us. And this is understandable. I want to help broaden this understanding though. 

You see, at first glance, “Lamb of God” — seems to cast Jesus as a kind of sin offering who “takes away the sin of the world” (John 1:29). But that might not be the whole story.

In those days, bulls, goats, and adult sheep were the typical animals used in sin offerings — not lambs. 

We hear later in the story, the Gospel writer identifies Jesus with the Passover lamb. In first-century Jewish life, the Passover lamb wasn’t a sin offering or atonement sacrifice. Rather, the lamb was a ritual remembrance of the Exodus story in which a lamb’s blood protected the ancient Israelites from death, thereby making possible their liberation from Egyptian enslavement (Ex 12:1-13). As a name for Jesus, then, “the Lamb of God” is more about being freed from sin.

And one last note about this, the word John uses for “takes away” in this passage is illuminating: airo which means “to raise, to lift up, to take away, to remove.” It’s the same word used in John 20 (“the stone had been removed [airo] from the tomb”) and in John 11 (“the Romans will come and destroy [airo] both our holy place and our nation”) (John 11:48; 20:1). So yes, Jesus comes to “take away [airo] the sin of the world,” in the sense of rolling it out of the way, destroying it, abolishing it — or “lifting” it in the sense of ending or annulling it.

For all the Gospel writers, Jesus came to inaugurate a New Exodus: not from captivity in Egypt, but rather from the even broader, deeper captivity that holds all of us back from being the children of God we’re created to be. So yes, Jesus came to “take away the sin of the world” — in the same way a liberator comes to “take away” the shackles of captivity. 

This is really all to say, Jesus being the Lamb of God didn’t start on the cross, but with his ministry of healing, teaching, and eating with others. In John’s Gospel, Jesus freed people by showing them the truth about themselves. We find this with the woman at the well. Jesus freed people from their social and religious understandings to acknowledge that people who live with a disability are not cursed by God, just read John 9. 

Jesus as the Lamb of God frees us from our sin, from our pride, from our judgment, gossip, and of course the list goes on and on. Jesus frees us from ourselves so that we might have a fuller life, here and after.

Jesus says later in John, “If you continue in my word, you are truly my disciples; and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free” (8:31-32).

In the second story, the next day John the Baptist exclaims again, “Look, here is the Lamb of God!” Andrew and Peter start to follow Jesus and Jesus turns around and asks them “What are you looking for?” Andrew answers by asking where he is staying. Perhaps if Andrew and Peter were John’s disciples, we can imagine they’d probably not have the best sleeping conditions and were looking for better accommodations. 

Jesus responds with, “Come and see.”

It’s striking in this encounter, Jesus makes no explicit arguments, no “pitches” about the benefits of following him. Rather, he asks a question (“What are you looking for?”) and offers an invitation (“Come and see”). It seems that the powers of hospitality and experience supersede debate and explicit rationale. For Jesus “come and see” is the signature mode of spreading the good news and recruiting disciples.

As we have started this week the Unbinding Your Heart book, our minds and hearts are focused on evangelism. We can see what Jesus’ mode of evangelism was in this moment. To be invitational and hospitable. But it was because of John the Baptist’s proclamation that they followed Jesus in the first place. 

Our evangelism, as we will learn from the book and one another, is to share what we have experienced of Christ, to be invitational on this journey of faith, and show hospitality gently. 

Jesus’ words — “Come and see” — stand out as a witness and a challenge. For Andrew, and for many of us, second-hand reports just won’t do. We want to come and see for ourselves. For John’s Gospel, this is the primary mode of spreading the good news and growing the community of disciples, and we are wise to do the same. 

Let me end with a simple thought experiment:

If you were to invite a friend to experience the best of our life and work with this simple, three-word invitation, to what specifically would you invite them to? A worship service, a meal, Food for Hope, First Tuesday, Bible Study, or J.A.M.? When and where do we most vividly embody the Gospel we proclaim? What in particular might someone “come and see” in our community that might cause them to decide to step more fully into God’s mission of freedom, love, and joy?

Think on these things and perhaps this week try it out. Amen.

Matthew 3:13-17

Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him. John would have prevented him, saying, “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?” But Jesus answered him, “Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.” Then he consented. And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. And a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”

The Word of God for the People of God!

Please pray with me: O Holy One who bestows belovedness, 

sit with us this morning as we hear your Word. 

May it seep within our spirits and bones. 

In Christ’s name I pray, Amen. 

Happy Epiphany! On Friday, we celebrated the Magi, or the wise men, or the Three Kings, whatever you want to call them, who visit the infant Jesus, after following a star for months, if not years, and recognizing him as King of the Jews. A term that will not be used again until he hangs on a cross. 

This is the season of Epiphany. And over the next few weeks, we will hear stories of people encountering Jesus and being filled with divine wonder.

I’m sure if I would ask each of you, you could tell me your own stories of epiphany when God felt as close as your breath. Whether it was being in the presence of a loved one who died and having a feeling of overwhelming comfort that things were going to be okay. Or moments of healing in friends or family members where you sensed God moving.

A moment of epiphany happened yesterday for me. Maybe not the divine kind, but perhaps I’m overlooking something. It was three days ago, I came across the article in the Philadelphia Inquirer about the Awbury (AWW-BREE) Arboretum (AR-BORE-REETUM) inviting people to bring their Christmas trees to have the goats at their farm eat them. So yesterday we undecorated the tree, wrapped the lights, put away our First Christmas ornaments, and stored the stockings. I put the tree in my car and we were off to the Arboretum (AR-BORE-REETUM). As we talked to the volunteers guiding the guests, I asked if I could pay a little more to have the goats eat our tree first. Apparently, that was a no-go… As we made our way up the hill, there were hundreds of people there to drop off their trees, sit around the fire making s’mores, and pet goats. I threw our tree on the compost pile and we moseyed around the farm. 

I thought about how I used an activity about rituals when I taught Introduction to World Religions. In February, I would ask students about the rituals that happen on Valentine’s Day. And how we expect to have a meal, hopefully with a romantic interest, that there’s something sweet involved like chocolates, and often flowers are presented. That each of these ritualistic acts pushed the couple towards love: love is sweet like chocolate, love is beautiful like flowers, and love is sentimental like a candlelight meal.

Then I thought about how the goats eating our Christmas tree meant that our tree although only in our home for a month had a second chance to be essentially composted. That the end for our tree was not in a landfill but will help grow life. And as we walked around with our hot chocolates in hand, seeing crowds gather around fire pits, I realized that this was a ritualistic act of perseverance. That the pandemic has changed so many things in our lives and most of us just want to add something to this world that gives back. Bring something to this world that brings more life!  

Today both of our sacraments are present, baptism and communion. These ritualistic acts bring us closer to God. They ground us in our identity as children of the Most High and fill us with spiritual food for the journey. 

For our Gospel lesson today, we have an epiphanic moment at Jesus’ baptism. This year, we hear the baptism story from Matthew’s Gospel. 

Remember the Gospel writers emphasize different theological stances. Matthew shows how Jesus is the new Moses. Here are just a few examples: Moses was born during a time when Pharaoh was killing boys under 2, just like Jesus. Ancient interpreters believed that Moses wrote the Torah, the first five books of the Hebrew Bible, and Matthew’s Gospel is split up into five sections. Jesus gives his famous Sermon on the Mount, on a mountain, of course, which is also where Moses presented the 10 Commandments. 

And there’s much more I could get into, but won’t here.

John the Baptist, as we heard in Advent, was in the wilderness, eating berries and locusts, had a large belt, wore camel hair, and was considered a prophet. Lots of people came to see what he was doing. He preached repentance and to show that you were serious about your metanoia, you participated in the ritualistic act of baptism. 

John had his own disciples and preached that there was one coming after him who is going to baptize not with water, but with fire.

Then we hear that Jesus of Galilee travels to John at the Jordan River and before anything come out of Jesus’ mouth, we read:  

John would have prevented him, saying, “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?” 

The New Revised Standard Version is the only English translation that takes Matthew’s imperfect tense of the verb διακωλύω (“hinder, decline”) and makes the verse sound a little off. Like John was all in his head ready to tell Jesus no. But the other English translations are a bit better at his point, like the Amplified Bible that says “But John tried to prevent him vigorously protesting, saying, “It is I who need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?”

Jesus’s response in Matthew’s Gospel becomes a theme that travels throughout the 28 chapters: “Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.” 

As we will hear in all five sections of Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus came to fulfill the law, came to fulfill all righteousness, not end it. 

John the Baptist eventually consents to baptize him. And you’ll notice that Jesus is the only one who sees the heavens open and the descending dove as he comes up out of the water. Yet, everyone present hears the heavenly voice say “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”

As people of faith, our sacraments bring us life, they help us preserve. As Jesus begins his ministry by being baptized by John, his identity is spoken for all to hear, Jesus is God’s Beloved. 

When we are baptized, we are told that we belong to God. That is our identity, full stop. God has claimed us. Any of our other allegiances do not hold a flame to our identity as Beloved Children of God.

While we may have various rituals in our everyday lives, it’s baptism alone where we find our identity.

May you be overcome with divine wonder during this season of Epiphany. 

May you continue to live into your identity as God’s Beloved. 

May we treat all as Children of the Most High, what do we have to lose? Amen.

Luke 2:1-7

In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. All went to their own towns to be registered. Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David. He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.

The Word of God for the People of God!

Thanks be to God.

Let us pray: O Immanuel, stay by our side as our hearts approach the stable. Quiet all the noise within us and give us peace. In Christ’s name, I pray, Amen.

Merry Christmas!

There is something so beautifully sentimental about Christmas. This time seems more precious than the rest of the year.

We sing songs about that perfect Christmas evening. A silent night with a sleepy, quiet Jesus, which makes all new parents jealous. 

We put up beautiful creches, lovely nativities with Mary, Joseph, and Jesus in pristine outfits. I guess the birthing process wasn’t as messy back then.  

We are even more giving this time of year. Some non-profits make more than half of their budget in December alone.

At Christmas, we want to sing together, to hear the story of Jesus’ humble beginnings, to hang up wreaths, put up trees, and continue the traditions we hold so dear.

While all of this is good for our spirits, especially since for many of us, it’s dark when we wake up and dark before we even return home. This time when seasonal affective disorder might strike at our friends, family, or even ourselves. We need those traditions to depend on. 

When I think about the birth of Jesus, it makes me think about how our Triune God in the lofty heavens decided to become human. Even more so a baby named Jesus, who was born in a stable.

While I too have lots of sentimentality during Christmas. I have my favorite Christmas albums, enjoy baking Christmas cookies, and Meagen and I have been creating our own traditions about when to open presents, and which holiday films to put into the rotation. 

Yet, it’s hard for me not to think about the messiness of the incarnation. 

That there was nothing sterile about Mary birthing Jesus.

And the stable probably smelled as you’d think it would smell. 

That Jesus’ first bed probably had fleas.

And the first people to visit this newborn king, smelled of sheep.

The incarnation, while we sing of a silent night, was anything but. 

We worship an Incarnate Savior who knew all that it meant to be human.

Ancient Theologian Gregory of Nazianzus wrote, “What God has not assumed is not saved.”

God understands the depths of humanity, the vastness of who we are, and made a home here. 

This Christmas may you continue to participate in traditions that bring you joy. May you find peace around people who love and care for you. May you understand a bit more of the lengths that God went to intentionally become human. And may you find room to open yourself to the divine, with God’s help, of course. Amen.

Matthew 11:2-11

When John heard in prison what the Messiah was doing, he sent word by his disciples and said to him, “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?” Jesus answered them, “Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me.”

As they went away, Jesus began to speak to the crowds about John: “What did you go out into the wilderness to look at? A reed shaken by the wind? What then did you go out to see? Someone dressed in soft robes? Look, those who wear soft robes are in royal palaces. What then did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet.

This is the one about whom it is written,

‘See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you,

who will prepare your way before you.’

Truly I tell you, among those born of women no one has arisen greater than John the Baptist; yet the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.

The Word of God for the People of God!

 Thanks be to God.

Please pray with me: O God on this third week of Advent, may our hearts be filled with your goodness and mercy. Open the eyes of our hearts so that we may see and hear all that you’ve been doing. In Christ’s name, I pray, Amen.

I see a spiritual director at Wayne Presbyterian Church once a month. For the first fifteen minutes of each session, we sit in silence. She then prays for our time together and then for the next 45 minutes we have a conversation about where I have seen God working in my life, in our church, and at the end of the session she asks, “How are you sensing God lead you?” Over these last two years, my images of God range from a shepherd trying to keep me in line to a friend pulling me up to the front of a stage to have a front seat to all that God is doing. 

When I last met with her two weeks ago, she recommended I read Greg Boyle’s latest book “The Whole Language: The Power of Extravagant Tenderness.” Greg Boyle is a Jesuit priest, mystic, and the founder and director of Homeboy Industries, the world's largest gang intervention, and rehabilitation program.

I ordered the book when I got into the car after our session and it arrived this past Monday. And on Tuesday after our First Tuesday Meal, I read the first chapter. The book is a beautiful mix of stories, wisdom statements from saints, and Boyle’s own mystical theology which speaks of a God of Love and Tenderness. 

At the end of the first chapter titled “You’re Here,” he shares this story:

Sharky moves all the time as a kid. His dad gets saturated in rock cocaine and in PCP paranoia, and even with restraining orders he always finds Sharky, his mom, and his sister. 

Sometimes they are even living right under his dad's nose. Invariably, he finds them and threatens to kill them all and they are forced to relocate yet again. Nine different schools before Sharky is eleven.

At twelve, Sharky comes home only to find his crazed father hiding in the closet. His dad begins to interrogate him beyond the kid's ability to take in any more terror. Sharky races out of the house, gets to a neighbor's phone, calls his mom at work, and sobs to her as she tries to quiet him down. "Meet me at the Hollenbeck Youth Center in one hour."

She just holds him there, in the gym bleachers, as he sobs all the more and her only message is this: "I'm so sorry you had to go through that."

Once Sharky moves from a tagging crew to a gang, to active gang violence and drug dealing and addiction, he lands in his more-than-predictable prison tenure. 

This is not what he wants his future to hold. Some old veteran tells him that he needs to ask forgiveness from God for all his sins. And so, he dedicates himself to this task and sincerely prays for forgiveness. 

In the heart of his prayer, alone in his cell, comes a message from God not of forgiveness or even reconciliation, but rather a singular expression of tenderness. God holding a sobbing Sharky and saying only this: "I'm so sorry you had to go through that.”

Sharky tells me later that this has become the notion of God that holds him still. It fills him enough to say finally to his own father, "I'm so sorry you had to go through all that." 

This story touched me so much that on Wednesday morning I shared it with Theresa and she loved it too. She reminded me after I finished reading it that I told her to remind me to call David’s house because he wasn’t at church or at the First Tuesday meal. No answer and thought that I’d try again later. Around 10, David’s sister calls the church to see if I have seen him and she tells me that he missed their regularly scheduled Tuesday call last night. I immediately put on my coat, ask Theresa if she wants to come, and we drive to David’s house. The police used forced entry to find him. He was still breathing, lying down across his front door. As he was being carried by the EMTs on the stretcher I say to him, “I’m so sorry that you are going through this. We’re praying and thinking about you, David.”

And then like the theme of Advent I wait and visit and wait and visit and wait.

As I said earlier, it looks like David is going to be okay. He is going to have surgery early next week and by the end of next week, he should regain consciousness. I pray so. 

This week’s passage, like last week’s, centers on John the Baptist. He’s not out in the wilderness, although there is a reference to it; instead, he’s in prison. He is surrounded by people he doesn’t know, in a room he doesn’t know, and eating food not picked by his own hand. It’s understandable that you start to question people and moments you’ve experienced when your back is up against a wall.

John the Baptist sends his disciples to Jesus to ask, “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?” 

Some bible commentators wonder if John was asking this because he wanted him to be a strong, empire-crushing Messiah that was spoken so often of in the first century. That maybe Jesus is this military Messiah who could release him from prison. 

Jesus, of course, is the Savior of the World, 

but he did not show up in might but in gentleness, 

he didn’t bring war, but peace, 

he didn’t teach hate and judgment, but love and forgiveness. 

Jesus responded to John’s disciples with, “what do you hear and see?”

The blind see, 

the lame walk, 

the lepers cleansed, 

the deaf hear, 

the dead are raised,

and the poor have good news brought to them. 

Some of my friends in corporate life tell me that at the end of the year they do a Self-Evaluation Review. This often determines what kind of raise they will receive and if they are going to move up in the company. I wonder if it might be good to take this time during Advent to do a self-evaluation of our life in faith. 

What would others say that they see and hear me do? 

How often do I produce fruits of the Spirit?

Am I using my time, resources, talents, and money in a way that glorifies God? 

We could ask these same questions as a church. 

Jesus continues to speak in our passage about John. He calls him an unshaken reed, a wilderness man, and a prophet. And yet more than a prophet. Jesus reiterates what we heard last week, that John is the one who prepared the way for Jesus. 

And then Jesus ends with a kingdom twist: John the Baptist is the greatest, yet the least in the kingdom of heaven.

Jesus continues to surprise us with these kinds of phrases. May we take them to heart, but not make our faith some kind of mathematical equation where we try to formulate how to be the least and the greatest. God determines those matters, not us. 

Today, as Shawn and Beth led us, we are called to Joy. The overall idea here is that while Advent is a time of longing and waiting in the shadows for Christ to come, there’s also room for taking some “anticipatory joy” in his arrival.

Yet, how is it possible to be joyful amid the shadows of sorrow? Henri Nouwen put it this way: while happiness usually depends on circumstances, joy runs deeper. “Joy," he wrote, "is the experience of knowing that you are unconditionally loved and that nothing - sickness, failure, emotional distress, oppression, war, or even death — can take that love away.” Thus joy and sorrow can not only coexist; joy can even be found in the midst of sorrowful circumstances. 

By all outward appearances, John’s situation in prison was difficult and vulnerable, but Jesus calls on him — and calls on us! — to draw on a wellspring deeper than the surface of things. 

Be strong, do not fear — and rejoice! May it be so! Amen.

Matthew 3:1-12

In those days John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness of Judea, proclaiming, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.”

This is the one of whom the prophet Isaiah spoke when he said, “The voice of one crying out in the wilderness:  ‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.’ ”

Now John wore clothing of camel’s hair with a leather belt around his waist, and his food was locusts and wild honey. Then the people of Jerusalem and all Judea were going out to him, and all the region along the Jordan, and they were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins.

But when he saw many Pharisees and Sadducees coming for baptism, he said to them, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? Bear fruit worthy of repentance. Do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our ancestor’; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham. 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.

“I baptize you with water for repentance, but one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor and will gather his wheat into the granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.”

Please pray with me: O God whose Realm has drawn near, I ask you to slow our busy hearts, to quiet our loud thoughts. May we receive your Word in grace. In Christ’s name I pray, Amen.

SUNG: Prepare ye, the way of the Lord

John the Baptist in the rock opera Godspell belts out this tune and soon the entire cast, except for Jesus, joins in. Godspell, based on the Gospel of Matthew, even includes a summary of what John proclaims in our passage. John in the musical says over top of the rhythm guitar, bass, and drums:

“You vipers’ brood! Who warned you to escape from the coming retribution? Prove your repentance by the fruit it bears. Do not presume to say to yourselves, “We have Abraham for our father.” For I tell you this, God can make children of Abraham from the stones here. Now already the axe is laid to the roots of the trees; and every tree that fails to produce good fruit shall be cut down and thrown on the fire. I baptize you with water, for repentance… but he who comes after me is mightier than I. I am not fit to take off his shoes. Now he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and with fire.”

Godspell is a modern and contemporary retelling of Matthew’s Gospel full of joyous music, mime, comedy, and slapstick. Other than the Finale, this scene with John the Baptist is deathly serious and once Jesus enters the scene to be baptized, it becomes a moment of humility. But we’re not there yet, that’s in January.

Today we are focused on this prophetic word from a camel-hair-wearing, bug-eating, and sharped-tongued wild man.

John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness we are told. Now you must understand, the term “wilderness” is much more than simply a geographical identifier. The voice “in the wilderness” in Isa 40:3 to which Matthew refers to is an example of a recurring prophetic theme.

It was in the wilderness after the escape from Egypt that Israel began its existence as the people of God. The hope of a new exodus led prophets to speak of the wilderness as a place of new beginnings (Jer 2:2–3; Hos 2:14–15; cf. Ezek 20:35–38).

And it’s in the wilderness that we hear John the Baptist’s first words, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” Now if you think these words sound familiar, they are. Jesus will say the same exact phrase in Matthew 4:17. Although both of their messages are the same at this point, things quickly diverge when you hear their practices and teachings. John’s disciples baptized others, while Jesus’ did not. John taught fasting, while Jesus dined with anyone. And of course, the differences go on and on.

Matthew tells us that many people were going out to be baptized by this wild prophet.

This event was so popular that even the historian Josephus in his book The Antiquities of the Jews, 18.117, wrote about John the Baptist, saying: “Herod slew him, who was a good man, and commanded the Jews to exercise virtue, both as to righteousness towards one another, and piety towards God, and so to come to baptism…”

It's the eccentrics who make history. And boy does that seem true.

The story shifts when the Pharisees and Sadducees show up. They came to observe what is going on in the wilderness rather than to be baptized. This reminds me of when Jesus said, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.” In other words, the self-righteous do not reflect on their lives in meaningful ways as they think they already know it all, have it all figured out, it’s those who want to live more deeply whom Jesus calls.

To these observing religious leaders, John the Baptist has words. He shakes up their theological understandings about themselves and the world. While they are trying to hold onto their heritage, their bloodline, and their ancestry, John the Baptist tells them that it’s not the thing that matters.

A quick side note: The use of “stones” to represent Abraham’s true children is no doubt prompted by an obvious Hebrew or Aramaic pun, in Hebrew bānîm is “children,” ʾabānîm “stones,” in Aramaic benayyāʾ, ʾabnayyāʾ.

Now while John the Baptist’s message could sound like hellfire and brimstone, it seems to be doing the opposite. John the Baptist is opening the floodgates, tearing down the dams, and releasing God’s mighty river of salvation for those who are not from the correct ancestry, for those who feel like they’re not good enough, for the downtrodden.

John underscores that “bearing fruit” is what matters most. Mere membership in a religious or ethnic lineage won’t cut it; what matters is what you do! Again, the central idea here is an opening up of salvation beyond religious or ethnic boundaries. Ordinary folks, supposed outsiders, overconfident insiders — everyone is invited to change for the better, with God’s help, of course.  

The word used for repent is the Greek word metanoia, meaning a complete change of mind and heart. It’s not simply “repenting” from sin in the way that we might think of it. It’s a complete reorientation of your life. This is what John calls for and, later, what Jesus will call for.

To “turn” or “return” to God is to find grace and steadfast love, life, and liberation. God’s people need deliverance from all that is destructive and death dealing.

 I finished writing my sermon in a Starbucks which was blasting sugary sweet Christmas tunes while I sipped on a sugary sweet drink, a chestnut praline to be exact. I imagined what it might be like if a John the Baptist-like character entered the space of open laptops, private phone calls, and personal conversations; of busy baristas, relocated work from homers, and tired parents making a pitstop before taking their kids to the next thing.

I imagined that this character would have a good thirty seconds to say his peace in front of the patrons before being asked either to buy something or leave. I then imagined that he would’ve bought a cheap item, maybe a cake pop, and then go around to each table to share with them that God’s Reign is near. Most would not take off their headphones to hear the message, but a few would be open to receiving such a proclamation.

Today we heard a difficult and convicting word: repent and bear good fruit. In Advent, we prepare ourselves as that old hymn goes,

“Let every heart prepare him room, And Heaven and nature sing”

Godspell ends with the song Prepare Ye the Way of the Lord as Jesus is taken down from the place where he was crucified. I guess in a way, Godspell is an Advent musical as it celebrates Christ’s first coming and calls for preparation for his second coming.

May this season you continue to reflect on your faith.

Perhaps asking: Am I using excuses like those ancient religious leaders whose faith was stagnant because they leaned too much on their history and heritage, rather than how can I deepen my own faith?

Or even: How might I share the good news in words and actions?

May God continue to bless you and our church as we ask, live into, prepare ourselves this season. Amen.

Matthew 24:36-44

“But about that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. For as the days of Noah were, so will be the coming of the Son of Man. For as in those days before the flood they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, until the day Noah entered the ark, and they knew nothing until the flood came and swept them all away, so too will be the coming of the Son of Man. Then two will be in the field; one will be taken and one will be left. Two women will be grinding meal together; one will be taken and one will be left. Keep awake therefore, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming. But understand this: if the owner of the house had known in what part of the night the thief was coming, he would have stayed awake and would not have let his house be broken into. Therefore, you also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.      

Pastor: The Word of God for the People of God.

All:   Thanks be to God.

Please pray with me: O God of Advent, we welcome you to come to us this morning. Give us your wisdom as we interpret your Word. In Christ’s Name I pray, Amen.

 If you were not aware, I was born and raised in Western Maryland, which is in the Appalachian Mountains. I attended a very small Pentecostal Church where each week my grandfather would preach fire and brimstone sermons and put the fear of God in you.

This is not the fear of God as in I trust the providence and sovereign love of our grace-filled Triune God. It was actual fear... Every week he would end the service with, “You are not promised tomorrow. You could get hit by a car when you leave today. Do you know where you are going when you die? It’s either heaven or hell.”

 At the altar call, I was so afraid that I raised my hand nearly every week out of fear of eternal punishment. My nine, ten, eleven-year-old brain was taught that the world was black and white, that you were either for or against God, and that faith was about living in fear of hellfire.

 In my teenage years, we went to another Pentecostal church, this time in West Virginia, where my uncle was the pastor. Less was preached about hellfire but instead was focused on healing and the gifts of the Spirit. It was there that I played drums for the worship band and enjoyed being on stage.

 But during the week I attended a Southern Baptist youth group where we read the Left Behind series and heard talks about Rapture readiness. I learned to interpret the strange symbols in the Book of Revelation with ease. I exchanged my fear of hellfire for the rapture. I didn’t want to be left behind. My youth pastor would ask us every week, “If Jesus would come back right now, would you be worthy enough to be raptured?”

 The churches of my childhood held me back by scaring me, causing me to stress about every decision I made, and removed any kind of grace that radiates from the Word.

 It was passages like today’s that produced in me such fear and anxiety. In our youth room, there was a modern painting of the rapture. Jesus is hovering in the clouds above a fairly modern city below. People flying in the air, dressed in white, go towards him, as their car crash into one another. The dead rise from the graves, and a plane crashes into a building. Underneath the painting, someone had printed out, “Then two will be in the field; one will be taken and one will be left. Keep awake therefore, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming.”

It seems odd thinking about that painting now. Why would Jesus want to come back just to have a front-row seat of all this destruction and chaos, when his ministry focused on healing, eating, and teaching?

 Welcome to the first week of Advent!

Today marks the beginning of the Christian New Year. You might think the year would begin like the jubilation of Easter, or the softness of Christmas Eve, or the winds of Pentecost — but no…, we begin in the shadows of despair, war, sorrow, and hate.

For it’s precisely there that the God of grace will arrive, and it’s precisely there that God’s church is called to light candles of hope, peace, joy, and love.

It’s worth remembering this deep poetry: as the Christian new year begins, we join hands and enter the darkness, actively waiting, singing, and praying anew for God’s light to overwhelm the world.

Our passage today is found in later chapters of Matthew’s Gospel. We are in Holy Week, and Jesus is teaching what scholars call the fifth discourse which features other notable texts such as the Parable of the Ten Bridesmaids, Signs of the End of the Age, and the Sheep and the Goats. These are all passages about what comes after, after-after.

Jesus begins this passage by explaining that no one knows the hour or day of his return, not even Jesus himself, only the Father. So if you ever hear anyone ever guess the day of Jesus’ Second Coming, just remind them that they are no smarter or wiser than the Father.

Jesus then continues with three illustrations: Noah and the flood, disappearing workmates, and a thief coming to break into a house.

In each of these illustrations, Jesus encourages his listeners to stay awake. Be ready.

 Those in Noah’s story paid attention more to their everyday activities than to the signs around them. For those working in the field or grinding meal, the swiftness of the Second Coming could mean that your fellow worker just disappears, causing your labor to double. Lastly, the one protecting his house from the thief reminds us to stay awake. Be ready.

Jesus seems to suggest that his return is both certain and yet unpredictable. Therefore, an excessive focus on when the Son of Man will return entirely misses the point, as it will have the effect of shifting one’s attention and energies away from the present into the future.

A Christian’s concern for the future need not be hopelessly otherworldly. Matthew calls on us to live in the world precisely because we are in the advent of Christ!

While the churches of my childhood and teenage years caused fear and anxiety of a future that never happened, it was fear that made me miss the present, the here and now. In my twenties, I attended other churches that did not preach the end of the world, but of God’s grace here now and after, whenever that will be.

Advent is rooted in the Latin word for “arrival.”

Bernard of Clairvaux, the twelfth-century abbot and theologian, wrote about “three Advents”:  first, the most popular one, the Incarnation, the Advent at Christmas, little baby Jesus in the manger; and the third is the Parousia, the Advent at the end of the age, Jesus’ Second Coming, the beginning of God’s Reign full and complete.

The second though or the “middle” Advent, the one in between these other two, is the everyday arrival of Jesus: the host at the table, the still small voice, the hungry mother, the weary in a war-torn country.

In other words, Jesus comes to us again and again, calling us, inviting us to help repair the world, little by little, a thousand swords remade into a thousand plowshares. The new era of God’s Reign is dawning even now — though its glimmers aren’t always obvious at first.

On the contrary, they often shine in unexpected places and hours like a thief in the night. Keep awake! Be ready!

Let me conclude with a passage from “A Declaration of Faith” written by the Presbyterian Church USA and adopted at the General Assembly in 1985.

God calls us to hope for more than we have yet seen. The hope God gives us is ultimate confidence that supports us when lesser hopes fail us. In Christ God gives hope for a new heaven and earth, the certainty of victory over death, assurance of mercy, and judgment beyond death. This hope gives us courage for the present struggle.

Pace yourself this Advent season.

Not everything needs to get right away.

Don’t wear yourself out.

Remember that God is sovereign love cares for you and the world.

Keep following Jesus on the path, God will figure out the rest. Amen.

Luke 18:1-8

Then Jesus told them a parable about their need to pray always and not to lose heart. He said, “In a certain city there was a judge who neither feared God nor had respect for people. In that city there was a widow who kept coming to him and saying, ‘Grant me justice against my opponent.’ For a while he refused; but later he said to himself, ‘Though I have no fear of God and no respect for anyone, yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will grant her justice, so that she may not wear me out by continually coming.’ ” And the Lord said, “Listen to what the unjust judge says. And will not God grant justice to his chosen ones who cry to him day and night? Will he delay long in helping them? I tell you, he will quickly grant justice to them. And yet, when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?”

Please pray with me: O Giver of good gifts, quiet our minds and hearts. Guide our focus. Help us to be present. In Christ’s name, I pray, Amen.

At Bible Study last Tuesday, I opened with three questions:  Were you taught how to pray?  How do you like to pray?  When do you feel the most prayerful?

 What proceeded was an insightful discussion about personal prayer lives.  Some incorporate Psalm 23 and the Lord’s Prayer in their morning or evening prayers. Others are more spontaneous and pray throughout the day, no script needed.  Mostly they’re conversational Still, others appreciate silence and listen for God.  We talked about how there’s not one proper way to pray.  Yet the prayer must be authentic to the one praying.

 This morning, we hear a parable about the need to pray always and not to lose heart.  Before we get into it, it’s important to recognize that each of us brings baggage when we talk about prayer.  some of us were taught to pray at a young age.  Others had to teach themselves.  Some of us feel heard by God when we pray, others feel like they’re speaking into thin air.  Some of us have been praying for the same thing for years and feel like nothing happens.  Others feel that their prayer life is sufficient, and their prayers are answered in adequate time.

 Prayer has no magical formula for God to listen. What I’ve found to be true is sometimes you have to pray with your feet. Praying for the sick is one thing, leaving a meal on their front porch is another. Praying for the lonely is one thing, making time to visit is another.  Praying to feel closer to God is one thing, putting in the effort to read Scripture, learn spiritual practices, and participate in Bible Study is another.  This is all to say, give yourself and others grace, we all approach prayer in different ways.

 At the outset, Luke underlines the parable’s purpose: to encourage the disciples “to pray always and not to lose heart”.  An unjust judge, who neither fears God nor respects people, initially refuses to grant justice to a widow.  Widows, in the ancient world, were often penniless, owned no property, and had to depend on her children after her husband died.  The widow in our parable has nothing to lose.  She persists, and persists, and persists, and persists, until at last, the judge agrees if only to get her off his back.

The NRSV translation obscures the almost slapstick tone of the teaching: translated literally, the judge says, “because this widow causes trouble for me, I will give her justice, so that she may not, in the end, give me a black eye by her coming.”

 To then interpret the parable Jesus says:  If even an unjust judge eventually gives in to a persistent request for justice by a woman, he neither loves nor respects — how much more will God grant justice? So: take heart!

 If the parable itself focuses on the widow’s persistence, Jesus’ application in verses 6–8a shifts attention from the widow to the judge. The logic of Jesus’ comments derives from the literary technique known as “from the lesser to the greater.”  We might paraphrase Jesus’ question in verse 6 as something like this: If an unjust judge can grant justice in response to badgering, how much more will God grant justice to those who cry out day and night?

 To avoid the notion that God must be worn out before granting justice, Jesus states categorically that “God will quickly grant justice to them” (v. 8a).

 In the end, this parable is one of the many portraits of faith we find in the Gospels, and as usual, faith looks more like being bold than being pious.  It looks like a persistent, pugnacious widow demanding justice — even threatening a corrupt judge with a black eye!  This is no mild, serene, “heavenly faith.”  This is “faith on earth,” a bold, tenacious confidence amid circumstances that could easily lead to despair.

This is the faith of keeping at it, staying with it, hoping against hope, refusing to take no for an answer.  This is the faith of a tenacious, pesky widow with a wicked right hand. And this portrait of faith, please note, is also a portrait of prayer:  not as a meekly-bow-your-head sort of thing, but rather as firmly planting your feet and taking a stand.  This is prayer as persistence, prayer as lamentation.

In Jesus’ day, a typical posture of prayer was standing up, arms out, palms up, eyes open, and voice clear.  How did this open ancient stance of prayer become our quiet time with God with clasped hands?

That last verse is both a declaration and a challenge.  The declaration is the radiant good news that yes, despite appearances, the Son of Man will come.

God’s realm of justice and love will indeed arrive in the end, and your faith shall not be in vain — so take heart! The challenge for us is living out this faith in the meantime, surrounded by insurmountable obstacles.  The tenacious widow’s faith can seem daunting, exhausting, or just plain foolish. But there she is, determined as ever, heading back to the courthouse.

May we be just as foolish, praying prayers with our entire selves.

May we be just as determined, not stopping until we have received an answer.

God is a fair and loving judge, but we encounter moments of unfairness on a weekly basis.

May we be bold in our prayers and faith,

Knowing that we serve our sovereign Lord,

Who loves and cares deeply about us and the world. Amen.

Luke 17:11-19

On the way to Jerusalem Jesus was going through the region between Samaria and Galilee. As he entered a village, ten lepers approached him. Keeping their distance, they called out, saying, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!” When he saw them, he said to them, “Go and show yourselves to the priests.” And as they went, they were made clean. Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice. He prostrated himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him. And he was a Samaritan. Then Jesus asked, “Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they? Was none of them found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?” Then he said to him, “Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well.” 

Please pray with me: O God we are grateful to be in your presence and in your love. Quiet our thoughts about this past week and the week ahead and help us to focus on you. In Christ’s name I pray, Amen.

Meagen and I have intentionally made Wednesdays our date night. This last week, we had sushi and went on a ghost tour near Old City. We learned about the Yellow Fever Epidemic in the 1790’s that swept across Philadelphia so fast that the dead could not be buried quickly enough.

When someone would catch Yellow Fever, they had around four days of jaundice and failing organs before they died.  Washington Square Park, already a potter’s field, was being used as a mass grave for the victims. The dead were buried during the day, but at night, grave robbers, who were paid by medical professionals, unburied the recently deceased so they could do medical experiments on them. This is grim, needless to say.

The grave robbers in the newspapers were called The Resurrectionists. In a macabre way, these Resurrectionists would give these bodies a second chance so that maybe, just maybe others didn’t have to die from this.

Yellow Fever and leprosy are not similar in how they treat the body. I’m not trying to equate them.

What I hear even more so is Jesus even before his own resurrection was a Resurrectionist for these men with leprosy who were considered dead according to their society.

People with leprosy often lived in total isolation: banished from their homes,

Absent from the loving touch of spouses, children, parents, from their faith community.

They were so feared that even to cross the shadow of one with leprosy was to risk infection. Sometimes they lived alone, away from the community. Sometimes they banded together, as we hear in our passage, to become a small company of misery. 

As the story goes and that we acted out.

Jesus and the disciples are making their way to Jerusalem. Currently passing through somewhere between Galilee, which is familiar to the group, and Samaria which is foreign and possibly dangerous for them. As they are walking, 10 lepers socially distancing yell out to Jesus, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us”.  These lepers know their place.  They understand that as their skin is rotting off that they could pass it on if they get too close.

You’ll notice that text doesn’t say that when Jesus heard them that he then responded, but it’s when he saw them.  It’s with the eyes of love and compassion that Jesus saw these lepers. He tells them to “Go and show yourselves to the priests.”  This of course was customary of the time.

There are a few places in Leviticus where it mentions just this.  As the story unfolds, the lepers were “cleansed” on their way to the priests.

Thus the one who returns does so because he recognizes that he was “healed;” he does not return to be healed.

He returns, rather, to give thanks and praise God.  This is no small act, especially in Luke’s eyes.  Praising; thanking; blessing; glorifying God is a recurring theme in his writings— from the shepherds in the fields, to Simeon and Anna at the presentation in the temple, to witnesses of Jesus’ miracles, to the centurion at the foot of the cross.

It seems that Luke recounts this story not to distinguish one leper from the others but to emphasize the proper response to any act of grace: thanks and praise to God. And the leper was not ashamed to do this loudly. As he went back to Jesus he was praising God so that everyone could hear. Once he reached Jesus, he prostrated himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him. Luke then notes that this was not just any leper but that he was a Samaritan.

A quick history note:

Samaritans were the descendants of generations of intermarriage between the Jews who were left behind during the Babylonian exile some 500 years before Jesus and the Gentiles who settled in Israel by the conquering Assyrians. Thus, Samaritans shared a common heritage with the Jews, but also were quite different: they worshipped at a different temple and revered a different-but-overlapping library of scripture.

Jews and Samaritans were likewise enemies, their similarities only sharpening their contempt.

All this would make this healing and the Good Samaritan parable striking, even scandalous, to Jesus’ contemporary Jewish audiences — not least because “Samaritan” was shorthand for both “apostate” and “adversary.”

This is all to say that this is a profound moment for a man who was once a leper and also a Samaritan to return to Jesus to offer thanks and praise.

We also don’t hear the rest of the story. There could have been others who returned to Jesus in gratitude but wanted to hug their family first, but we just don’t know. This passage ends with Jesus telling the grateful Samaritan to “Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well.” This formulation — “made you well” — is a translation of the word sesoken, “to save, heal, preserve, rescue, deliver.”

But what is it, precisely, that Jesus celebrates about the Samaritan’s faith here?

It’s not revering Jesus — for all ten call him, “Master.”

It’s not obeying his instruction — for all ten do what he commands, setting out toward the priests to be officially reconciled to the community.

And it’s not theological correctness — for Samaritans and Jews disagreed, often bitterly, over theological matters. But if it’s not reverence, obedience, or orthodoxy — what is it?

Indeed, it’s worth noting that the Samaritan rather boldly disobeys Jesus’ instruction.

Instead of going to see the priests, he pivots and returns, praises God, and thanks Jesus.

Despite his years of ostracization and keeping his distance, he has the audacity to approach Jesus directly, to throw himself at his feet in thanksgiving. And for this impertinence — Jesus exalts him as an exemplar of faith.

Faith and gratitude go hand in hand.

In gratitude, we recognize that we cannot do everything on our own.

In gratitude, we offer praise to the One who extends abundant mercy and grace to us.

Let me conclude with this:

I’ve been thinking about the mechanics of this healing.

When the lepers were healed, did that mean that their flesh stopped rotting and their scabs healed? Or that if they had nubs for fingers that they grew back?

I assume that it’s the former, but we’re never told.

What we do know is: Jesus always meets us where we are.

We don’t have to be a prayer warrior or have the Bible memorized; rather Jesus comes to us and we are called to respond in gratitude.

May you find time this week to be grateful for all that God has done in your life. Amen.

Luke 16:19-31

“There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day. And at his gate lay a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, who longed to satisfy his hunger with what fell from the rich man’s table; even the dogs would come and lick his sores. The poor man died and was carried away by the angels to be with Abraham. The rich man also died and was buried. In Hades, where he was being tormented, he looked up and saw Abraham far away with Lazarus by his side. He called out, ‘Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue; for I am in agony in these flames.’ But Abraham said, ‘Child, remember that during your lifetime you received your good things, and Lazarus in like manner evil things; but now he is comforted here, and you are in agony. Besides all this, between you and us a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who might want to pass from here to you cannot do so, and no one can cross from there to us.’ He said, ‘Then, father, I beg you to send him to my father’s house— for I have five brothers—that he may warn them, so that they will not also come into this place of torment.’ Abraham replied, ‘They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them.’ He said, ‘No, father Abraham; but if someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent.’ He said to him, ‘If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.’ ”

Please pray with me: O Storytelling God, we are grateful for your Word and its implications on our lives. Speak the truth into our hearts this morning. We’re open and ready. In Christ’s Name, I pray, Amen.

When we hear in-your-face parables like today’s, there is a myriad of ways how to respond. There are those who could say, this seems rather exaggerated, this kind of stuff doesn’t happen. They don’t have someone sitting next to their house on the sidewalk day in and day out begging for money and in need of medical attention. Hooey, this kind of parable is not for them.

Or there’s the other extreme, those who adore this parable and want to live it out to a tee. Those who carry around loose change wherever they go. They buy an extra meal anytime they eat out at a restaurant because they always seem to pass someone by who seems hungry. They’re conscious about which organizations receive their donations.

Or more likely there are many more who are in-between, paralyzed with the indecisiveness of what’s the best and most helpful way to be faithful. They keep their car windows closed at street intersection beggars. They desire to give, especially to those who seem so desperate, but are afraid that the beggars may use the money for something they would not approve of.

These kinds of parables speak more to how we understand ourselves and less about the person who spoke them. Jesus, at this moment, was not trying to be comforting to the Pharisees who were listening, nor to those who find this passage convicting. Rather these parables stretch our Christian ethical imaginations to what it means to live presently in God’s realm. This kind of ethical stretching is neither easy, nor always welcome, but it will help us produce good fruit as disciples. 

For me, I understand that the discipleship journey will not end until I’m in the full presence of God. It took a long time for me, who would volunteer regularly at the soup kitchens at Broad Street Ministry and My Brother’s Place, to engage with guests, instead of only serving the meal, chatting with fellow volunteers, and leaving. It is parables like this that changed my way of approaching the soup kitchen guests and I started to see them as fellow humans and not as the downtrodden to be served.

Last week we explored Jesus’ first parable in chapter 16, a story calling us to be wise, creative, resourceful, and even audacious in our use of “dishonest wealth” for the sake of building up the beloved community. In this week’s parable, Jesus continues this line of thought, now zeroing in on what a generous, just economic life looks like in practice.

The parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus opens with Jesus describing the rich man. The wealthy man wears fine clothes and dines sumptuously every day. Living in a gated house, the man has enough real estate and possessions to necessitate security. One would assume that a man of such status would have a name worth articulating. Jesus, however, gives the rich man no name. The rich man, in the eyes of the storyteller, is a nobody. Juxtaposed to the unnamed rich man is a man named Lazarus. While this is not the Lazarus of the Fourth Gospel, the listener is given the impression of Jesus’ personal knowledge of the man because of the vivid description of his body and his day-to-day torment. Lazarus is introduced in the story as a sickly, poor man so downtrodden that he lies begging for food at the property gate of the rich man. Jesus makes Lazarus’s plight more vivid by describing the painful sores that cover his ailing body. As a man stricken by poverty, the starving man is tormented by dogs who lick his sores—surely a ghastly and excruciating situation to endure! Lazarus’s name is familiar to Jesus, and his situation is empathically known by Jesus.

 The rich man though is not pictured as inherently wicked. He does not persecute Lazarus, nor does he refuse him food, nor does he sponsor legislation to rid the gates of poor people like Lazarus. As John Donahue points out, the problem is that all those days on earth the rich never “see” the poor. “One of the prime dangers of wealth is that it causes blindness.” In modern times Lazarus corresponds to the person who begs, but one dares not look into their eyes, lest a claim is made upon one’s compassion. It is acceptable to give aid to the worthy poor, but it is also socially permissible to regard some as not worthy.

As the parable continues, both men die. Lazarus is taken to Abraham by angels and the rich man is buried and tortured in Hades. 

A quick note: this parable is not the time to dissect all of the descriptions of the hereafter. It’s a parable, not a theological treatise on the afterlife.

While both men are in their respective hereafters, they can see and hear one another. The rich man pleads with Abraham to “send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue” (Luke 16:24). He knows Lazarus, knows him by name — and still thinks of him, with patronizing contempt, as a servant. The plea speaks volumes about the rich man’s outlook: not only his lack of generosity but also his clueless entitlement, even in Hades. The very person he routinely refused to help; he now asks Abraham to dispatch his help!

The problem of course is the giant chasm between them. Perhaps the “moral of the story” expressed in this parable is that if you do not cross the gaping chasm between the rich and the poor in this life, you surely will not be able to do it in the next. At least for those who hoard and have more than their share on this earth, there is no respite to be offered in the life to come. Warnings and messages come in every form, but they remain unheeded.

Abraham’s response — and in particular, the initial word, “Child” — is a blunt word of warning. The rich man may well be a “child of Abraham,” but that alone won’t do it.

Jesus is obviously criticizing the rich man in the parable for not sharing resources, but the parable goes out of its way to spend just as much time exposing the rich man’s entitlement and rashness. If the parable is an urgent warning to the rich man’s brothers (in other words, to anyone with resources to share), the exhortation is not only to extend more neighborly care; it’s also to extend more neighborly respect, more neighborly courtesy, more neighborly dignity — in short, to see one another as equals, as children of God called to live together in love. Even the fact that Jesus calls the impoverished man, “Lazarus,” and not simply, “the poor man,” underscores the theme of neighborly respect.

This parable too is open-ended. Luke provides no summary statement from Jesus informing the Pharisees and disciples what to make of the story. There is no narrative resolution to what happens to the rich man’s five brothers.

We must read between the lines. Would Lazarus tell the brothers to be more generous and kind to the poor? Would Lazarus inform the brothers to get rid of their wealth? Perhaps Lazarus would tell the brothers that the kind of privilege provided by money is not the kind of privilege that merits eternity with Abraham.

As we stretch our Christian ethical imaginations, it helps to see the many lessons of the parable.

We are called to share what we have. In our parable, the focus was on financial resources, but we can also be stingy when it comes to our wealth of talents and spiritual gifts.

I am grateful that Food for Hope is a place where our resources bless our neighbors and neighborhood.

Don’t hoard your wealth, financial or otherwise.

Foster relationships and friendships with as many people as you encounter.

Be stretched in your own Christian ethical imaginations for you never know when it will be handy. Amen.

Luke 16:1-13

Then Jesus said to the disciples, “There was a rich man who had a manager, and charges were brought to him that this man was squandering his property. So he summoned him and said to him, ‘What is this that I hear about you? Give me an accounting of your management, because you cannot be my manager any longer.’ Then the manager said to himself, ‘What will I do, now that my master is taking the position away from me? I am not strong enough to dig, and I am ashamed to beg. I have decided what to do so that, when I am dismissed as manager, people may welcome me into their homes.’ So, summoning his master’s debtors one by one, he asked the first, ‘How much do you owe my master?’ He answered, ‘A hundred jugs of olive oil.’ He said to him, ‘Take your bill, sit down quickly, and make it fifty.’ Then he asked another, ‘And how much do you owe?’ He replied, ‘A hundred containers of wheat.’ He said to him, ‘Take your bill and make it eighty.’ And his master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly; for the children of this age are more shrewd in dealing with their own generation than are the children of light. And I tell you, make friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth so that when it is gone, they may welcome you into the eternal homes.

“Whoever is faithful in a very little is faithful also in much, and whoever is dishonest in a very little is dishonest also in much. If then you have not been faithful with the dishonest wealth, who will entrust to you the true riches? And if you have not been faithful with what belongs to another, who will give you what is your own? No slave can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth.”

Please pray with me: O God of friendship and riddles, remind us of your deep, deep love for us. Quiet our hearts and minds, may they be focused on you. In Christ’s name, I pray, Amen.

There’s this joke from 2018 that makes the rounds every so often. It goes like this: Nobody talks about Jesus’ miracle of having 12 friends in his 30’s.

As you probably understand, making and keeping friends can sometimes seem impossible as an adult. We don’t have many institutions that help foster friendships while we’re in our 30s, 40s, and on up, as we did in those formative years. Sure, the church could be that place, but it’s not always.

Mike Frost, a church culture critic, wrote a thought-provoking piece a few years ago, titled “The Lonely Crowd: Churches Dying Due to Friendlessness.”

He opens his article with, “I’ve lost count of the number of Christians who’ve told me they either stopped attending church or left their church to join another one because they couldn’t make any friends there.

They report that the church people were kind enough. They were hospitable and welcoming.

One person told Mike, “They’re nice to you, but no one becomes your friend.”

And it hurts when all that friendliness leads only to friendlessness.

In the 1950s, sociologist David Riesman coined the term “the lonely crowd,” in part to describe collectives of people who live according to common traditions and conforming values, but who barely know or like each other.

Mike concludes that he fears the church is in danger of becoming just such a lonely crowd.”

Some heavy stuff there.

One last tidbit of friendship info. The US is experiencing a “friendship recession” and American men have been hit hardest. According to Gallup, the percentage of men with at least six close friends fell by half between 1990 and 2021, from 52% to 25%. And one in five single men says they have no close friendships.

It makes me wonder, at least, if we shifted our cultural emphasis on work and family towards a community of friendships, how different things might be.

Amid all of Jesus’ teachings after the parable, it’s his statement on friendship that strikes me the most. “And I tell you, make friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth so that when it is gone, they may welcome you into the eternal homes.” One way of reading this verse could be to make friends with corrupt people and waste their money so that they might have a place in God’s Realm.

Jesus said it, I believe it, that settles it.

At Tuesday evening’s Bible Study, this parable really got under our skin. We are used to reading parables as allegories, but there’s no good allegorical interpretation that makes sense. Neither God nor we are found in this parable. We understand that it’s not because of the sayings that follow the parable. You’ll notice all of Jesus’ teachings are slanted towards followers not being shrewd enough, or followers making friends with dishonest people or accepting that we are called to be faithful with a little, unlike everyone in the parable, or lastly, Jesus’ punchline of one cannot serve both God and money.

To summarize our parable: A rich landowner brought hearsay charges against one of his managers for squandering his property and fires him. The assumedly fired manager says to himself that he is not strong enough to dig and is too ashamed to beg and so must find a third way. The disbarred manager decides to make friends with the landowner’s debtors by making deals with them to forgive their debt at a cheaper price than what they originally owed. 50 jugs of olive oil instead of 100. 80 instead of 100 containers of wheat. The parable ends with “And his master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly.”

Overall, this was a win-win-win situation for the manager. He made friends with the now debt-free clients of his former master who will help him out so he won’t need to beg or dig. His master will still get paid at least part of what was owed. And finally, his master didn’t sue him and respected his shrewd act.

Following the parable, Jesus shares several economic teachings, some related to the parable and others not.

In the first teaching, Jesus commends the children of light to be shrewder than the children of this age. The word shrewd here has more of a sense of being wise than of trickery. It’s the same Greek word used by Jesus in Matthew 10, “so be wise as serpents and innocent as doves.”

Jesus, according to this teaching, appears to agree with the master’s praise of the manager. The shrewd manager exemplifies ingenuity, street smarts, and thinking outside of the box.

Naiveté and passivity are not Christian virtues.

We value creative problem-solving as a way to prepare for an uncertain future.

We should be astute and smart.

We should be willing to take risks.

We should use money wisely to do good work and gain security.

Whenever I think about a contemporary example of following Jesus and shrewdness I think of Tim DeChristopher who in 2008 was just finishing up his grad school exams at the University of Utah. He majored in economics and cared deeply about the environment. He heard about this auction in Salt Lake City where the Bureau of Land Management was auctioning off 116 parcels of public land in southern Utah to be sold to oil and gas companies. Tim decides to protest the auction, but not like those who disrupt entire events. Rather, Tim dressed up, went to the auction, picked up paddle 70, and started to bid. He racked up 1.7 million dollars worth of land. Of course, he couldn’t pay it, but he made the auction media attention-worthy which caused a general outcry and the public land was taken off the market. Tim was shrewd in how he acted and public lands were saved. The consequence though was that he was sentenced to prison for 21 months.

Now I don’t believe everyone is called to be shrewd like this, but I do believe we are called to still be shrewd and intelligent in how we live as followers of Jesus.

Given the moral ambiguities and challenges of this world, intelligence is demanded of the people of God’s realm.

What would “street smarts” such as that displayed by the shrewd manager look like, when translated into the values of God’s reign?

Jesus gives an example of being shrewd by telling his disciples to “make friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth so that when it is gone, they may welcome you into the eternal homes.”

To paraphrase, “Be as crafty and creative in finding ways to be generous to your impoverished neighbors, for example, as you are in finding ways to advance your careers, or build relationships that might help you down the road. Apply that same effort and acumen to the work of love and peace for which you were born!”

Jesus concludes our passage by saying that we should be faithful in small things because we will be trusted with more. And that you cannot serve two masters, it’s either God or money.

In case there is any lingering confusion from the scenario of a shrewd manager seeking personal benefit through the domain of (unrighteous) wealth and property, Jesus clinches the point here: God and wealth represent competing and incompatible claims and allegiances. Service of God cannot coincide with service of wealth. One who places trust in money has badly misdirected that trust. Nevertheless, with the cunning manager as an improbable mentor, one can use wealth toward constructive ends that serve God, by releasing what one has and thereby making friends—not subordinate clients but friends—for eternity.

We heard the call:

Be intelligent, crafty, cunning, shrewd, and risky for the sake of the kingdom of God. Make friends. Love those friends heavenward. And lastly, serve and trust God alone, everything else is idolatry. May it be so.

Luke 15:1-10

Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to him. And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, “This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.”

So he told them this parable: “Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until he finds it? When he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders and rejoices. And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and neighbors, saying to them, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.’ Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance.

“Or what woman having ten silver coins, if she loses one of them, does not light a lamp, sweep the house, and search carefully until she finds it? When she has found it, she calls together her friends and neighbors, saying, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found the coin that I had lost.’ Just so, I tell you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents.”              

Please pray with me: O God who searches out the lost until they are found and never gets tired. Quiet all other voices in our hearts and heads. Give us joy unspeakable like your angels. In Christ’s name, I pray, Amen.

We’ve made it to another Rally Day, when our Adult Education classes and weekly Bible Studies start up again. When we move from the Christian Education building back to this beautiful sanctuary. It marks the time when summer is officially over and now, we get back to our regularly scheduled programs.

Our Rally Day theme this year is Joy Unspeakable. It is based on a hymn written in 1900 that speaks to being joyful in the mystery of God. The theme came to mind when I read today’s parables and the joyful celebration by the neighbors, friends, and angels of the lost being found.

We, the church, are called to joyfulness!

This summer we have been making our way through Jesus’ ministry and teachings found in Luke’s Gospel. In the past few weeks, we’ve heard some uncomfortable teachings about money and possessions, which challenges our own ethics. We’ve now come to Luke 15, a most famous chapter that has three parables with a similar structure and meaning. The lost are searched for and once found or returned on their own, celebrations abound! We heard the first two parables this morning, the lost sheep and the lost coin. The third one and most famous, the prodigal son, we’ll hear another week.

Before we can even get into our parables, it’s good to know whom Jesus is teaching. We hear in the opening sentences that Jesus is speaking to “tax collectors and sinners.” Although in the vicinity are the Pharisees and scribes who are grumbling about Jesus’ ministry methods, the forbidden ways of eating and welcoming sinners. Something we could probably do more of.

This also means that these religious leaders clearly exhibited no “hospitality” or generous attitudes toward those regarded as “lost.” Jesus’ parables of the lost sheep and lost coin counter this attitude and its restrictiveness. In them, he demonstrates God’s care for those who are despised and rejected by society. In the parables, we hear, God is the active participant in seeking to save the lost. This gives the parables their urgency and power as expressions of the nature of God enacted in the midst of everyday human life. God’s purpose is to restore the lost. God’s way of work is to seek and save through merciful love. These parables offer testimony to the depths of God’s compassion and the width of God’s concern.

The parable of the lost sheep has the shepherd abandoning the ninety-nine to look for the one who is lost. Once the shepherd finds it, he wraps it around his neck and brings it back to the flock. And after he does this, he invites friends and neighbors to celebrate the return of the sheep that was lost and is now found.

This parable reminds me of what are called “bummer lambs.”

Every once in a while, a ewe or mama sheep will give birth and reject her child. There are many reasons she may do this and sometimes the mother just dies. Once rejected, these little lambs will hang their heads so low that it looks like something is wrong with their neck. Their spirit is crushed and broken. This is unless the shepherd intervenes.

Often the shepherd will take that rejected newborn lamb into their home, hand-feed it, and keep it warm by the fire. They will wrap it up with blankets and hold it to their chest so that the bummer lamb can hear the heartbeat of the shepherd, or sometimes carry it around on their neck as they do other tasks.

Once the lamb is strong enough, the shepherd will place it back in the field with the rest of the flock. But that sheep never forgets how the shepherd cared for it.

Sometimes getting lost is our own doing, but sometimes it’s not. We cannot control every aspect of our lives, even though we would like to. The lost sometimes never had a chance. Jesus understood that and so he ate and ministered to “sinners and tax collectors.” But often what happens with us is that it is easier to complain about the lost, similar to the older brother in the prodigal son story than to offer a listening ear and compassion. Can you imagine if the ninety-nine sheep could talk, what they might say as they saw the shepherd and the one lost sheep coming back?

Maybe something like, “Wow, we were left for two days to fend for ourselves as our shepherd went to look for that bozo. We’ve been doing everything right and we’ve received no special treatment!”

Biblical scholar Kenneth E. Bailey has another take on it:

“Yet was it wise to leave the ninety-nine and wander away searching for the one? … Does the lost individual matter or are “the people” alone important? Indeed, it is the shepherd’s willingness to go after the one that gives the ninety-nine their real security. If the one is sacrificed in the name of the larger group, then each individual in the group is insecure, knowing that they are of little value. If lost, they will be left to die. When the shepherd pays a high price to find the one, he thereby offers the most profound security to the many.

Jesus then tells a similar parable. This time about a woman and a lost coin.

The woman’s ten silver coins (drachmas) represented about ten days’ wages and many months of saving. Like the shepherd, she seeks “until she finds it” (v. 8); there is no giving up in either story.

Reading this parable in connection with the previous one, the focus shifts from the lost, the found, and the never lost, to the searching God—the shepherd searching after the one lost sheep and the woman searching after the one lost coin. The reason why the “holier than thou” attitude of the scribes and Pharisees is unacceptable is not just that it is in bad taste, or that religious people ought to be more forgiving, or that such attitudes scare people away. All those may be true, but the real reason for seeking and loving the lost is that our God is a seeking and loving God.

And at the end of both parables, the joy of finding the lost is so abundant that it cannot be contained; one person alone cannot adequately celebrate; there must be a party to which others are invited. Jesus invites even his critics to join him and all of heaven in celebration of finding the lost. This joy, elaborated more fully in the party for the returned son in the next parable, is the heart of the gospel. Finding and restoring the lost gives pleasure to God as well as to all who are about God’s business.

Now having joy doesn’t mean that you have to be happy all of the time. That you need to plaster on a smile every day. We are emotionally complex individuals and joy doesn’t always strike us when we think it should. But I hope that you have small moments of joy during your weeks. It probably won’t be as obvious as seeing the lost be found right before your very eyes, but it may look like being grateful and smiling spontaneously when you feel the fall weather cooling things down, or cranking up the radio to sing “Sweet Caroline.”

And yet I pray that you witness and experience big joys! For me, I couldn’t stop smiling on Friday evening dancing with my lovely wife Meagen.

May you this week experience the big joy that God has called to. Amen.

Luke 14:25-33

Now large crowds were traveling with him; and he turned and said to them, “Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple. For which of you, intending to build a tower, does not first sit down and estimate the cost, to see whether he has enough to complete it? Otherwise, when he has laid a foundation and is not able to finish, all who see it will begin to ridicule him, saying, ‘This fellow began to build and was not able to finish.’ Or what king, going out to wage war against another king, will not sit down first and consider whether he is able with ten thousand to oppose the one who comes against him with twenty thousand? If he cannot, then, while the other is still far away, he sends a delegation and asks for the terms of peace. So therefore, none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions.                    

Please pray with me: O Lord of difficult teachings, sit with us this morning as we seek to take your word to heart. Encourage us in becoming more faithful disciples to you. In Christ’s name, I pray, Amen.

I don’t know if you noticed, but there have been some difficult teachings from Jesus this summer. It’s not like we didn’t know that following Jesus is not always supposed to be calm and easy. Although we like to have our familiar readings from the Gospels. We cherish baby Jesus at the nativity and we can meditate on the costly weight of cross during Holy Week, yet it’s the teachings between his birth and death that make us uncomfortable. Or maybe I should just speak for myself and say, these are difficult teachings to live out. I mean if Jesus is actually serious about us giving up our possessions, freeing ourselves from wealth, and disowning our family members, where does that leave me? It seems like poor and alone.

And I know that it’s easy to take Jesus’ words as metaphorical. That he didn’t really mean that we hate our family and maybe it’s more about being dedicated to the Gospel in a way that we leave behind family members that are not dedicated as such. Yet Jesus includes even hating life, so that’s probably not the truest of interpretations.

So let’s just get into our passage.

A large crowd has been following and listening intently to Jesus. And I assume that they love Jesus for many of the reasons we do: for his charisma, his love for everyone, especially those who are considered unworthy according to society, his healing power, and probably because he wasn’t like some of those other religious leaders, like John the Baptizer, who made his disciples fast regularly. Jesus and the disciples were eating all of the time.

Now a lot of commentators historically thought that Jesus shared this hard teaching, that we heard today, with this large crowd to weed out those who were not as dedicated to the Gospel. The problem is, that it’s not indicated anywhere that this happened.

Instead, they listen to Jesus’ tough talk about the cost of discipleship. They may not realize that the journey to Jerusalem will be difficult, and will not end well. So, Jesus speaks bluntly to them. If you do not hate your parents and spouse and children and siblings, he says, you cannot be my disciple. If you will not carry a cross and be ready to die, do not waste my time. If you need your possessions, go home.

What strikes me in this first part of the passage is the word “hate” coming from Jesus’ lips. Does discipleship really require one to “hate” parents, spouse, children, siblings, and even one’s own life? “Hate” may be hyperbole, but it does not underestimate the potential costs of discipleship. Life meets almost everyone with choices that are emotionally costly. In ordinary circumstances, it mostly works out. However, when Jesus uses the word “hate” in the same sentence with parent, spouse, child, he raises the ante. He is not speaking about cold abstractions.

Discipleship requires radical obedience. Love of family must not stand in the way. In verse 26 to “hate” the family does not mean to have evil sentiments for them, but rather to forsake them for the sake of the kingdom. A disciple of Jesus will not use supposed family responsibilities to avoid obedience. And this is then paralleled by the saying about carrying the cross. Taken in context, this is not just a call to sacrifice, as we often think. The cross is an instrument of legal punishment and torture. So to take up the cross is parallel to “hating” family. A disciple of Jesus must be ready to carry the burden not only of tensions in the family, but even of disobedience to the point of legal punishment.

After Jesus speaks these weighty words, he shares two parables. In these parables, he basically asks, “Are you sure you wish to follow me? Is the price more than you are willing to pay?”

The first parable is drawn from rural life and involves building a tower in a vineyard from which the farmer can stand watch against thieves and foraging animals. The second pictures the royal house where great issues of war and peace are settled. But rich and poor alike, royalty and peasants alike, have essentially the same decision to make when faced with a major expenditure of time, property, and life itself: Does this cost more than I am able or willing to pay? The decision is no different when one is facing the call to discipleship: the enthusiasm for beginning is there, but do I possess the resources to carry through to completion?

Discipleship, we must remember, is a process. This takes time and involves both false starts and modest successes, as we grow in our faith journeys to live into the fullness of our humanity and dare to begin to live the holiness that God has given us. As disciples, we learn to face life’s challenges and joys with a spirit of love, hope, faith, and peace that leads us to an ever-deeper spirituality and life of godly witness.

In the process of becoming living disciples, we must, as Jesus states, also learn to give up all of our possessions—our need to acquire, our yearning for success, our petty jealousies, our disparaging stereotypes of others, our prejudices, and hatreds, and more—and follow the way of Jesus, as we place ourselves on an ever-treading potter’s wheel to examine our thoughts, words, and actions.

At the heart of discipleship is transformation. The cost of discipleship is not just becoming collectors of new information about life and living it fully, or changing our behavior in regard to Jesus’ teachings. The cost is engaging in a profoundly radical shift toward the ethics of Jesus with every fiber of our beings. We are called to live lives of complete devotion to God. Jesus reminds us in today’s passage that following him means that we cannot be shallow or uncommitted believers.

Most of us have these ideas about what church is supposed to look, feel, and be like. Growing up I was taught that church services fill you up for the week. That we have these spiritual gas tanks that get full on Sunday and usually by Friday they’re hovering over E. And then the process starts over again. And of course, when we receive the Good News, enjoy great fellowship, pray, and sing; there can be this spiritual high that might last a few days until our jobs or family obligations weigh us down again.

Yet, I wonder if we started to understand church on Sunday mornings as not only a place to receive spiritual nourishment but as a center of discipleship training. That we’re here to learn, create, and become better disciples. And then the more we practice what it means to follow Jesus that our weeks are less about trying to hang onto that spiritual high and more about performing our faith every day.

The words of Jesus in this text seem so difficult and unrealistic that we are often tempted to soften them. The point is that they were and are challenging. If it is too easy and attractive to follow Jesus, maybe we do not fully understand Jesus or the Gospel. Jesus asks his followers, then and now, to do something so difficult that we can doubt our own abilities. We can be surprised to find that the challenge often brings out the best in us. We are forced to build muscle and develop calluses. We can get dirty. We learn to push beyond our limits and rely on the kindness of strangers. Most importantly, we learn that in the end, it is not our hard work or sacrifice, or obedience that matters. But that we are given the grace to do what is hard.

May you be overwhelmed by God’s grace as you listen and follow Jesus’ teachings and become a more faithful disciple. Amen.

Luke 14:1, 7-14

On one occasion when Jesus was going to the house of a leader of the Pharisees to eat a meal on the sabbath, they were watching him closely.

When he noticed how the guests chose the places of honor, he told them a parable. “When you are invited by someone to a wedding banquet, do not sit down at the place of honor, in case someone more distinguished than you has been invited by your host; and the host who invited both of you may come and say to you, ‘Give this person your place,’ and then in disgrace you would start to take the lowest place. But when you are invited, go and sit down at the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he may say to you, ‘Friend, move up higher’; then you will be honored in the presence of all who sit at the table with you. For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”

He said also to the one who had invited him, “When you give a luncheon or a dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbors, in case they may invite you in return, and you would be repaid. But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind. And you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you, for you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.”  

Please pray with me: O God of dinner parties, be with us as we digest our breakfast and sip on coffee. Open the ears of our hearts to hear a message from you. Be gentle to those who need it and challenge those who are comfortable. In Christ’s name, I pray, Amen.

I am getting to a place in my life where I am starting to care less and less about social media. The shine has worn off. Yet, I was intrigued to hear about this new app called BeReal. It works like this: Every day at a different time, everyone on the app is notified simultaneously to capture and share a photo in 2 minutes. The app claims that it presents “A new and unique way to discover who your friends really are in their daily life.”

While with other social media apps it is easy to curate what you want others to see and notice about yourself. BeReal wants its users to be honest about what their lives look like and not just vacation or hiking pics.

BeReal also has no likes or follower counts. One user said, "[Posting to] Snapchat and Instagram sometimes seems kind of like a competition because there are likes and how many views you get. TikTok as well. It's kind of different on BeReal because there's like none of that.”

Yet the app is not without its critics, with some users noting that it sends alerts at inconvenient times, like funerals, surgeries, and breakups.

While I find it interesting, I do not plan to download the app. I think though that it’s easy to make a disconnect between us in 2022 and what we heard Jesus say in the 30s. Like come on Jesus, we don’t even have dinner parties anymore, we’re all too busy and it’s just easier for us to go through drive-thrus.

What I didn’t mention about BeReal is that people are starting to notice how their friends are in a different social class than them. It's quite obvious when all of your pictures are of you at your summer job filing papers compared to your friends hanging out at their backyard pool every day supposedly reading a paperback.

Social and class stratification continues to exist. We see it in our social media, in the first century they saw it at their dinner parties.

Our passage begins by explaining the location of Jesus’ teaching, Jesus and we can assume at least some of his disciples are eating at a Pharisee leader’s house. Those at this dinner party were watching him closely.

We do not know where Jesus or the disciples are sitting at the table, nor do we know how many people are there.

We do know the importance of these meals in the first century though.

In antiquity, meals in homes had great social value. Invitations by the wealthy to a meal were a measure of one’s cultural status. Servants were sent in advance with a reminder for the guests. U-shaped tables defined the social order. The closeness of your place to the middle of the U indicated your importance to the host since there was the most coveted seat. If you were seated at the ends of the table, your place in the social order was immediately obvious. Guests reclined at the table as the food was served; they ate and conversed. The teaching and dialogue that occurred at the table were like that of the Greco-Roman symposium, where dining and learning were combined. Such occasions were the privilege of the male upper class. To be invited to such a meal carried with it the social obligation to respond in kind.

Now that we know a little more about these meals, let’s get into Jesus’ teaching. He begins with first with those who are invited to these meals and then with those who host.

Jesus tells the invited to sit at the ends of the U-Shaped table so that when the host comes around, they may say, “Friend, sit closer to me.” And then you will be honored.

It might be easy to bypass Jesus’ lesson to guests. The human ego is quite clever and, upon hearing that taking a low seat may not only avoid embarrassment but lead to elevation to the head table, may convert the instruction about humility into a new strategy for self-exaltation. Jesus does not offer a divinely approved way for a person to get what they want. Taking the low seat because one is humble is one thing; taking the low seat as a way to move up is another. This entire message can become cartoonish if there is a mad, competitive rush for the lowest place, with ears attuned toward the host, waiting for the call to ascend.

Our humble Jesus calls us to be humble too.

And then at the end of this first teaching, Jesus says, “For all who exalt [hypsōn] themselves will be humbled [tapeinōthēsetai], and those who humble [tapeinōn] themselves will be exalted [hypsōthēsetai]” (14:11)—echoes the words of Mary’s song of praise in 1:52: “God has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up [hypsōsen] the lowly [tapeinous].”

This is all to say, Jesus’ ministry in Luke has been consistent from even before he was born!

Jesus then looks to the host. He tells them not to invite those who they know, but to invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind, those who cannot repay you.

 Like in the modern world. being a host carries with it many pleasant and positive connotations, such as friendliness, generosity, graciousness, and concern for the comfort of others, and in many cases, these terms are appropriate descriptions. However, Jesus observed an occasion, and certainly not an isolated one, on which hosting was an act by which one person gained power over others and put them in his debt. All of us know the ugly face of generosity that binds and the ungodly character of gifts with strings attached. A host who expects a return on their behavior will not offer service or food to those who cannot repay, and so guest lists consist of persons who are able to return the favor.

Jesus invites diners to think about their table guest list, whom they include, whom they exclude, and where the guests will sit—all important considerations if they are to live into a new communal social order that demonstrates how they remember his teaching, walk in his ways, and sit at the table with strangers and friends.

Theologically speaking, in the kingdom, God is the host, and who can repay God? Jesus is therefore calling for kingdom behavior, that is, inviting to table those with neither property nor place in society. Since God is host of us all, we as hosts are really behaving as guests, making no claims, setting no conditions, and expecting no return.

When I lived in New York City, I helped start a monthly meal called Community Table at my church. I had worked two years already with the church’s soup kitchen and homeless shelter which was in the basement and I can say that honestly, it was difficult to get church members to volunteer. So the next logical step was to bring soup kitchen guests to church. So, every Third Thursday we removed the pews from the sanctuary, set up about two dozen tables with table cloths, and the soup kitchen chef, with lots of help, cooked a five-course meal. I can remember those first few times inviting everyone we met on the street, the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, Columbia professors, students, and those who lived in the neighborhood. We started out with around 100 diners and by the time I left we had over 300 showing up. We did our best to sit the disadvantaged with the financially well off, the undereducated with the abundantly educated, and I think you get my point. We attempted to live out this teaching however small this act was.

I continue to try to encourage such holy mingling with our First Tuesday dinners and even yesterday’s Extravaganza by having it at the same time as Food for Hope.

Jesus teaches that hospitality is not about having each other over on Friday evenings but welcoming those who are in no position to host us in return. The passage does not speak of sending food to anyone; rather, the host and the guest sit at the same table together. The clear sign of acceptance, recognizing others as one’s equals, and cementing fellowship, is breaking bread together. In the Christian community, no one is a “project.”

My final question to us then is: Do you suppose Jesus was serious about opening church halls and homes in this way?

Luke 13:10-17

Now he was teaching in one of the synagogues on the sabbath. And just then there appeared a woman with a spirit that had crippled her for eighteen years. She was bent over and was quite unable to stand up straight. When Jesus saw her, he called her over and said, “Woman, you are set free from your ailment.” When he laid his hands on her, immediately she stood up straight and began praising God. But the leader of the synagogue, indignant because Jesus had cured on the sabbath, kept saying to the crowd, “There are six days on which work ought to be done; come on those days and be cured, and not on the sabbath day.” But the Lord answered him and said, “You hypocrites! Does not each of you on the sabbath untie his ox or his donkey from the manger, and lead it away to give it water? And ought not this woman, a daughter of Abraham whom Satan bound for eighteen long years, be set free from this bondage on the sabbath day?” When he said this, all his opponents were put to shame; and the entire crowd was rejoicing at all the wonderful things that he was doing.

Please pray with me: O God who takes good care of us, comfort us with your Word this morning, give us strength, and send your grace that we may live out our faith. In Christ’s name, I pray, Amen.

Have you ever known someone who always seems to anticipate your needs? Someone who without even asking brings you water while you’re working outside, will see something in the store that you’ve mentioned before and buy it, or maybe even help you financially when things are a bit tight.

You must hold onto these kinds of people and perhaps even try to be like this for others.

What we hear in our passage is Jesus acting like an anticipator. He heals a woman who had a condition that forced her not to be in control of her posture. She did ask to be healed. She did not have an advocate who fought for her healing. She was in the congregation for worship on a Sabbath, present, that’s it.

Often this is how I see and hear how God operates in the world. I’ve heard stories of prayers answered although it was not what they expected, but better. Or that we hold onto low expectations since… well… not many things seem to be going right in the world and all of sudden you have this overwhelming sense of God when you listen to a new favorite song.

Perhaps the metaphor we could use for our Trinitarian God this week is Healer, Anticipator, and Ruler Breaker. 

Let’s get into our passage.

If you had read the first twelve chapters of Luke and seen Jesus in various contexts healing on the Sabbath and reformulating Sabbath law, the events of our passage would have a familiar feel. Having already declared himself “lord of the sabbath” (6:5) and determined that healing on this sacred day is “to do good” (6:9), you should not be surprised by his actions or his instructions here. Again, Jesus finds himself in what appears to his audience to be a quandary. While he is teaching in an unnamed synagogue on the Sabbath, there appears before him an unnamed woman “who has had a spirit of weakness” for eighteen years. Seeing her, he has a decision to make. Will he heal her and violate the oral law pertaining to Sabbath, or will he attend to the Sabbath restrictions and withhold the blessing that she needs? Of course, for Jesus, healing and blessing are more important than any religious tradition.

As the story goes, an unnamed woman crippled with a spirit for eighteen years and unable to stand up straight participates in the life of the synagogue where Jesus is at. Jesus calls to her and sets her free from her ailment by laying hands on her. Her response is to stand up straight and begin praising God. Over the years, she has become accustomed, if not resigned, to her long and serious illness, which is attributed to Satan. For eighteen years this woman must strain to see the sun, the sky, and the stars. For eighteen years she has become accustomed to looking down or just slightly ahead but never upward without difficulty. For eighteen years her world has been one of turning from side to side to see what those who stand upright can see with just a glance. She is used to this, and no one questions her fate.

How often do we accept our own reality as fate?

I think of the many conversations I’ve had with various people over the years about their own situations. Those who want to have a few more friends in their inner circle but just wait for new friends to appear without any effort on their part. Or the ones who do not like their jobs and just wait for something better to come across their desk. Or the grudges in families that do not go away because the offending parties refuse to speak to each other.

Do not let what you think is fate to direct your ways in life. As we have heard in this story so far, Jesus desires to heal us, bring us salvation, and transform our lives. It should be noted too that the woman with the back issue still participated in the life of the community and did not isolate herself. She did not accept herself as a useless participant in society but attended social and worship gatherings.

She was not expecting to be healed that day. She did not know that she was going to experience the words of salvation from the Lord’s lips and his healing touch. Yet, when her life changed that day, she could not keep it to herself and celebrated what God had done for her.

A naysayer, the leader of the synagogue, was not happy at this great work of God and was offended that Jesus would heal on the Sabbath.

On first glance, the leader of the synagogue’s argument seems reasonable: Keeping the sabbath is a commandment, and the sabbath is a day of rest, not work; on the seventh day “you shall not do any work” (Deut 5:14). If you’re going to heal this woman, Jesus, you have six other days of the week to do it. After all, she’s been in this condition for eighteen years — what’s one more day?

But Jesus will have none of it. In essence, he says, You’re missing the whole point! Don’t you untie your ox or donkey on the sabbath day, to give it water? How much more should you unbind this longsuffering daughter of Abraham and Sarah, so she might be set free of her ailment? For the love of God, it’s been eighteen years — not one more day should pass! And indeed, what better day to do this than the sabbath day, the day we remember that we, too, were once in bondage and that God has set us free?

The story doesn’t end there though. The woman is healed, the argument is won, the crowd rejoices — and Jesus following this healing offers two parables comparing the kingdom of God to a mustard seed and yeast, It’s as if he says, Though this woman may seem to you to be small and unimportant, in fact, she is a daughter of Abraham and Sarah, and her restoration and praise will spread like wildfire, beyond all expectations, like the astonishing growth of a tiny seed, or the rising of an entire loaf from a little leaven. God’s reign is like that. It’s like a seed, or a bit of yeast — or an ailing woman restored to health, whose praise soon spreads to all in the congregation, and beyond!

Our passage is a great summary of a Reformed understanding of salvation. God pursues us and meets us where we are at. Just as Jesus encountered this woman at the synagogue. God heals us and brings us salvation. Always remember that salvation and healing share the same root words in Greek and English. In other words, God makes us whole, bringing healing inside out. And in return, as the woman in the story does, we respond with great joy for what God has done for us.

Although don’t get me wrong, each faith journey is different and often we do not feel immediately transformed, God continues to work on us. And like the woman, we must be active and not isolate ourselves from people or ways in which God can speak to us, especially through God’s own Word, prayer, and other spiritually nourishing ways.

May we be a joyful congregation and people responding to all that God has done.

May we continue to live into healing and wholeness as God directs us.

And may we be kind, grace-filled, and generous to all, since we do not always know what kind of path others are on. Amen.

Luke 12:49-56

“I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled! I have a baptism with which to be baptized, and what stress I am under until it is completed! Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division! From now on five in one household will be divided, three against two and two against three;

they will be divided:

father against son

and son against father,

mother against daughter

and daughter against mother,

mother-in-law against her daughter-in-law

and daughter-in-law against mother-in-law.”

He also said to the crowds, “When you see a cloud rising in the west, you immediately say, ‘It is going to rain’; and so it happens. And when you see the south wind blowing, you say, ‘There will be scorching heat’; and it happens. You hypocrites! You know how to interpret the appearance of earth and sky, but why do you not know how to interpret the present time?

Please pray with me: O God, we sit open to what you want us to hear through this difficult passage this morning. Guide our thoughts and actions, O God. In Christ’s name, I pray, Amen.

Who is this Jesus we heard this morning, advocating for division, not peace; wanting to pull families apart, and calling people idiots for interpreting the weather?

In the landscape of Luke’s Gospel, this message from Jesus seems to be out of left field, not like him at all.

I mean if you read the Gospel in its entirety: the opening chapter proclaims that Jesus will “guide our feet into the way of peace” (1:79). Then near the end of the Gospel, the resurrected Jesus appears among his followers and offers a benediction of peace (24:36). Within this framework, how might we understand Jesus’ statement that he brings “fire to the earth” (12:49), division and not peace? How can the one who tells a parable of reconciliation between a father and son be the same one who sets parents against their children and children against their parents? Did he not bless with peace the sick whom he healed (7:50; 8:48)? Did Jesus not teach his followers to bring greetings of peace as they traveled the country to share his good news (10:5–6)? In light of his own example and the testimony of his preaching, what can Jesus’ words of division possibly mean?

But not only that the central theological message of the passage is difficult to pin down as are some of its details. Is the fire that Jesus brings a baptism of fire like the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, burning in the hearts and upon the heads of numerous believers, enflaming them to mighty deeds of faithfulness? Or is it, rather, the refiner’s fire, burning away the chaff of sin or the fruitless branches that do not bear fruit (cf. 3:9, 17)? Or is it the fire of judgment, raining down from heaven upon the heads of God’s enemies (cf. 17:28–33)?

With all of these questions swirling around, let’s get into our Gospel lesson. 

John the Baptizer at the beginning of the Gospels prepared the way for Jesus, inviting people to be baptized and to emerge out of those waters with changed hearts and lives. In this season after Pentecost, we recall that the fire Jesus brought also whipped through the early church on Pentecost. The fire was energizing, filling people with God’s Spirit. Fire as judgment and fire as spiritual energy: two very different images of God’s work among God’s people.

Luke’s Jesus though speaks harsh words in this passage, words that are passionate and urge action. Jesus says that the kingdom of God has been inaugurated on earth; we are fools if we do not see it. Seeing the kingdom should be as apparent as predicting the weather. However, the kingdom Jesus brings is one of division and hardship, not peace. That division will reach us at a very personal level. It will be felt within our most private spaces and in intimate relationships. Such division can cause us great suffering as families are broken and divided.

And let me share some historical context.

The familial relationships that Jesus mentions—father and son, mother and daughter, mother-in-law and daughter-in-law—were all obligation-based in the ancient world. 

You see in the first century, it would be expected that the eldest son in the household would eventually inherit his father’s position and property. Thus, the eldest son would remain in the household, while younger brothers would move nearby as they came of age. The eldest son would be expected to learn the details associated with his future position and would naturally feel both the honor and burden of birth order.

The mother and daughter relationship most likely refers to an unmarried daughter who still lives in her father’s house. The unmarried daughter would be especially obligated to keep her honor, and while a woman could disgrace her family in several ways throughout her lifetime, an unmarried daughter had a specific duty to remain chaste, not only to bring honor to her family but also to maintain her worth as a potential wife. A mother would feel the responsibility of ensuring the chastity of her daughter.

As for a daughter-in-law, it was common for a new wife to move into the family home of her husband. The marriage was viewed as a union created to serve the interests of the kinship group, and the new wife was obligated to maintain her marriage contract in a manner that edified the whole. The new wife would rarely be fully integrated into the family unit. She would most likely always remain on the fringes, and her best hope of becoming a figure of value would be to give birth to a son. 

And so Jesus disrupts these relationships of obligation and speaks to the reality of a kinship-based not on familial blood ties, but on a covenant of Jesus’ blood (22:20). Even among Jesus’ own Hebrew people, where he is known as “Joseph’s son” (4:22), Jesus becomes an outsider when he announces his mission from God. And when his mother and brothers try to get close to him, he redefines the familial ties that bind his true family to him by saying, “My mother and my brothers are those who hear the word of God and do it” (8:21).

This was truly an odd way to view what a family was in the ancient world. People often gathered together, worshiped even, based not only on bloodlines but according to their occupations. In the ancient world, these were called Associations and they were everywhere.

Jesus designed the church not based on whom you were related to, what job you had, your social status, or any other designation, but based on beliefs and practices.

The divisions Jesus describes are not to bring about chaos and even more division, but to question where your obligations lie.

As we ponder this text, may we contemplate the duties and obligations present in our own lives that prohibit us from doing the work of the kingdom of God.

As someone who has allowed social media apps on my phone to be a distraction from the existence of the everyday. I mean why wouldn’t I rather look at pictures of my friend’s newborn twin babies and not feel the existential dread of knowing that microplastics have found their way into the rain? But sometimes the obligations of staying informed, sharing important life events, and wanting to see cute photos, can and have held me back from quiet morning times with God, or reading headlines over wanting to read something a bit more spiritually nourishing. It happens to the best of us. I have deleted those apps, at least for now.

Let me say a word about peace before I wrap this up. 

In this particular passage, Jesus problematizes the idea of peace and appears to yearn for something different, referencing the “stress” he feels as he anticipates a time of completion.

Let us get out of our heads that peace is calm and inactive, that it’s sweet and gentle.

Peace as Jesus describes it is active and participatory. Peace lays a demand on us to know our neighbors so that when conflict arises you desire to resolve it because you already have a relationship with that person. Peace requires us to be present and involved.

Jesus brought a fire that continues to burn in the church.

May we be flints of peace, agitators for love, and faithful to our Risen Firestarter. Amen.

Luke 12:32-40

“Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom. Sell your possessions, and give alms. Make purses for yourselves that do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

“Be dressed for action and have your lamps lit; be like those who are waiting for their master to return from the wedding banquet, so that they may open the door for him as soon as he comes and knocks. Blessed are those slaves whom the master finds alert when he comes; truly I tell you, he will fasten his belt and have them sit down to eat, and he will come and serve them. If he comes during the middle of the night, or near dawn, and finds them so, blessed are those slaves.

“But know this: if the owner of the house had known at what hour the thief was coming, he would not have let his house be broken into. You also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.”

Please pray with me: O God who breaks into our lives, find us here this morning, wanting to hear a Word from you. Silence any voice that challenges yours this morning. In Christ’s name I pray, Amen.

In my third year of seminary, I moved into an apartment with a few friends at Lefferts Gardens in Brooklyn. It’s right near Prospect Park. Many theological discussions happened in that place and late-night jam sessions since all of us played an instrument. As well I had another seminary friend who lived only two blocks away. When my roommates were not going to campus, I would ride with my other friend on the subway. And often returning from seminary we would go to this particular Chinese restaurant that was between our apartments for a late-night meal. One evening though, we were particularly exhausted from our classes and went our separate ways. That night I received a call from him around 2 am, saying that while he was asleep, his apartment had been broken into. The police were on their way, but he felt scared. The thieves climbed up the fire escape to reach his third-floor apartment, stole his tv, and some jewelry from his bedroom where he was sleeping.

I stayed up with him and fell asleep on his couch.

He felt very vulnerable and exposed. The next day, his landlord added two locks on his windows so that it wouldn’t happen again.

Less than a month later, his apartment was broken into again, but this time it was during the day. The thief broke in through his front door. They stole a few of his watches and strangely his dining room table and chairs. I guess the robber was acting like he was helping him move out.

The landlord came back again and put two more locks on his door.

My friend felt vulnerable once again. He started putting a chair under his doorknob at night to try to prevent any more break-ins.

This morning we hear Jesus liken himself to a thief in the night. And anytime I hear that phrase I think about what happened that month for my friend.

Yet Jesus opens our passage with, “Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.”

What we hear is not a God who, after creating the universe, sits back and dispassionately watches it all unfold.

What we hear is a God who attends to sparrows, ravens, and lilies, a God whose concern for humankind extends to the very hairs on our heads, whose very desire is to give us the treasure of heaven.

We are not to be afraid and to know that God desires the kingdom for us!

What a beautiful statement!

Jesus continues by giving instructions about how to set our priorities.

Sell your possessions, and give alms.

Make purses for yourselves that do not wear out,

an unfailing treasure in heaven, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

Similar to last week’s passage on the parable of the rich landowner who wants to build bigger barns to keep his wealth to himself, Jesus continues this theme of removing the things in your life that prohibit you from leaning into God’s providence, God’s guidance.

In theological terms, God’s providence enables a response that runs counter to the human propensity to be afraid, a response that challenges the tendency to hold on to what we have, in order to protect against what might happen. “Sell your possessions, and give alms” (v. 33), Jesus says, calling on his followers to place their confidence in the imperishable things of heaven, rather than in the moth-eaten things in their own backyards. The passage challenges us with a simple test: Do we want to live lives of taking, or do we want to live lives of giving? The answer we give reveals the truth of our hearts (v. 34) and opens or closes us to the blessings that God is prepared to give.

And then an even bigger question is: What is the ultimate concern of our lives? Other than what we say in the Westminster Catechisms: Humanity’s chief end is to glorify God, and to enjoy him forever.

This text claims that our ultimate concern is God’s kingdom because it was God’s pleasure to include us in this divine reign. Consequently, what we need, accumulate, and possess in life is transitory, as is time itself. God’s delightful decisions for us empower us to use our possessions and our time to enact the values and agenda of God’s kingdom in the present as we anticipate its ultimate coming in the future.

While the first half of our passage concerns God’s desire for us to enjoy the kingdom, the second half pivots to two analogies or short parables about being ready for Jesus’ return and his reign.

The first parable Jesus shares is about a master returning from a marriage feast. This parable has a positive tone: servants are prepared and awake, even if the master does not return until the third watch. The implication is that the master had not yet returned, but the preparedness and the watchfulness are not relaxed. After all, calculating the Lord’s return is an inadequate and inappropriate motivation for Christian behavior. Servants prepared and awake not only are blessed by the master but are treated to a most extraordinary reward: the master serves them at the table.

The second parable has to do with a householder and a thief (vv. 39–40). The night thief was a common motif for impressing on listeners the uncertainty of a disruptive event. You hear this motif also in 1 Thess. 5:2–11; 2 Peter 3:10; Rev. 3:3). Of course, the householder does not know when a thief will come, just like my friend; of course, the householder cannot stay awake all the time. However, one can be prepared, if not always awake.

We believe that the Son of man will come and will come unexpectedly. Not only will it be a surprise as to time but it will be disruptive, as would be the coming of a night thief.

Although let’s be clear. Our passage can sound very apocalyptic and of course, there are other passages in Luke that easily lend themselves to emphasizing the judgment that is coming or of a warning of possible punishment (e.g., Luke 19:12–27). However, the consistent message throughout the passage is not, “Be ready so that you will avoid punishment,” but, rather, “Be ready so that you will receive blessing.” After all, those who are ready when the master returns will be the recipients of a heavenly feast (vv. 37–38).

There are moments when we need disruptions, especially when we become too complacent. We need those hard shakes, those wake-up calls to help us realize that we need to get back on course. This could concern our relationships with our significant others, family members, or that we are not living the life that we once dreamed of.

We also need those thieves in the night to help us grow our faith. This is where the Spirit enters in. God’s Spirit not only encourages us to live joyfully and produce good fruit, but also the Spirit can make us uncomfortable. The Spirit can hold up a mirror to our lives, show us our true selves, reveal the places where we need to change or give ourselves grace for those moments in our past when we were not our best selves.

My friend’s apartment has not been broken into since. He still props a chair in front of the doorknob still every night though. May we stay as diligent as him, not out of fear, but with a joyful expectancy.

Remember God wants to bless us with the kingdom.

Our faith should be joy-filled.

We must be diligent together.

May this church be the place where we can do just that.

Amen.

Luke 12:13-21

Someone in the crowd said to him, “Teacher, tell my brother to divide the family inheritance with me.” But he said to him, “Friend, who set me to be a judge or arbitrator over you?” And he said to them, “Take care! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed, for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions.” Then he told them a parable: “The land of a rich man produced abundantly. And he thought to himself, ‘What should I do, for I have no place to store my crops?’ Then he said, ‘I will do this: I will pull down my barns and build larger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods. And I will say to my soul, Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry.’ But God said to him, ‘You fool! This very night your life is being demanded of you. And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?’ So it is with those who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich toward God.”

Please pray with me: O God of Abundance, teach us about your richness. Guide us in your grace. And quiet those selfish tendencies within us. In Christ’s name, I pray, Amen.

I spent the last week with a group of 40 youth and 5 adults at Montreat Camp and Conference Center in North Carolina.

We had a rocky start to the trip because on the morning we left we had 6 youth test positive for COVID and their parents had to take them home. Then the first bus that arrived 6am had a flat tire and the AC was not working. We had to find another bus company and our 6am start time turned into 2pm. And we eventually arrived at the camp at 2am on Sunday. We pushed through that difficult beginning and had an amazing rest of the week.

Their summer theme was More than Enough. And our reformed theology that we teach and believe in the Presbyterian church shone through the curriculum by reminding us all that we are only more than enough because of God. We heard great preaching and had a wonderful musician and choir director. Our passage that I just read was also part of last week’s small group discussion time, when we talked about how we should not make our identity in having an abundance of possessions, but instead that our life in Christ is so much more than that.

You might notice that Jesus’ candor in this passage sounds surprising, if not shocking, especially to those of us who attend church in the summer. Why can’t the lectionary have some grace and give us easy parables? But no, we are flung into a conversation and a parable about money and death.

The centerpiece of this passage is the parable of the rich fool, a person who is more concerned with storing excess riches than with striving for God’s realm. Framed on either side by Jesus’ teaching, the parable paints a vivid image of the dangers of wealth for its own sake. Those who have possessions in abundance risk the sin of greed. For them, “enough” is never enough, “more” is only to be hoarded, and “I, me, and mine” matter more than anybody else. Greed is a problem primarily because its focus on the self keeps people from being “rich toward God” and rich toward others. The human propensity toward greed stands in striking contrast to God’s providential care for rich and poor alike and the Gospel of Luke’s theme of appropriate stewardship of one’s possessions.

Our passage opens though with an inquiry: “Teacher, tell my brother to divide the family inheritance with me.”

Right from the start, we know why someone would come to Jesus for wisdom and advice, but underlying this question is something that we never find out: what was the inheritance? I assume the brother was taking more than his fair share, yet we never find out how much.

And the passage continues with:

Jesus said to him, “Friend, who set me to be a judge or arbitrator over you? Take care! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed, for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions.

Jesus does not ask the man what the inheritance was, but rather he provides a general message about greed and what it can do to your life. He wants the man to keep his heart in check. Or as we hear Jesus say in Matthew’s Gospel, “Where your treasure is, there your heart will be.”

Jesus then goes on to share a parable that becomes known as the Parable of the Rich Fool.

A rich man’s land is producing more than enough. And so he thought to himself, “I don’t have enough room to store this abundance, but where should they go?” So he builds larger barns, a very logical move. Then he speaks to his soul, basically saying that he has a great retirement plan and he can just relax. And just after he speaks to his soul, God interrupts and says that he is going to die that very night. And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?

This parable always reminds me of a song that I would sing with my dad growing up. It’s called “I wouldn't take nothin' for my journey now” by the Happy Goodman Family.

It goes like this:

I wouldn't take nothin' for my journey now

Gotta make it to Heaven somehow

Though the devil tempt me and he tried to turn me around

He's offered everything that's got a name

All the wealth I want and worldly fame

If I could, still I wouldn't take nothin' for my journey now

I think this song is more aspirational than descriptive. I wasn’t offered any wealth or fame when I was a child. The point though that it’s making is the same as the parable: don’t hoard any kind of wealth because in the end it’s useless.

To take our interpretation of our parable a step further: With all this excess at the center of his life, the man plunges into the trap of idolatry, an idolatry that is often idolized by our culture. The nearly constant message of today’s media is that life does, indeed, consist in the abundance of possessions. We are encouraged to spend more, have more, and use more; to maximize; to bank on the appearance of wealth as a sign of the good life. Insofar as the culture cultivates a propensity to buy things we do not need; it champions a way of life that this parable characterizes as folly.

This parable reminds us of a few things:

First: God is the author of life and death. The rich fool thought that he could do things his own way without depending on God’s grace and his life was taken from him.

Second: we are more than what we own. Our things are just that, things. While it is nice to have large homes or a few cars, the bigger question is what are you doing with them? Are you keeping them all to yourself or are you hosting friends, family, neighbors, and church people at your home? Or using your time in an intentional way: to call a lonely friend, go grocery shopping with someone who could use a ride, or pick someone up for a church event.

Lastly, this is not a parable against having a good retirement. Sure, Jesus teaches us to pray for our daily bread, but it doesn’t mean that you should always be in economic survival mode especially when you're elderly. You were able to save up while you worked so you wouldn’t need to work later on.

There was this fourth-century bishop named Basil the Great who would probably disagree with me. His sermon title when he preached on this passage was “Tear Down Your Barns.” The entire sermon is hard-hitting and very much still relevant.

At one point in the sermon, he says:

I would like you to take a short vacation from your works of iniquity and give your calculations a rest so that you might seriously consider the kind of end towards which these preoccupations are heading. You have such and such an amount of arable land, and of wooded land so much more: hills, plains, valleys, rivers, streams. What, then, comes next? Don’t six feet of earth, in all, await you?

While this sounds morbid and we should be sometimes.

Let me close though by rephrasing its sentiments:

We are more than our possessions, our gadgets, homes, cars, and what’s in our bank accounts.

We are more than our jobs, schooling, accolades, awards, and people we surround ourselves with.

We are more because God has loved us so.

We are more because Jesus shows us the way of humility and grace.

We are more because the Spirit challenges and calls us to be abundant in God, not in things.

May it be so, Amen.

Luke 10:38-42

Now as they went on their way, he entered a certain village, where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home. She had a sister named Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to what he was saying. But Martha was distracted by her many tasks; so she came to him and asked, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her then to help me.” But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.”

Please pray with me: O Gracious Lord, some weeks we are as busy as Martha, feeling overwhelmed and stressed. Other times we feel open to your teachings like Mary. This morning may we find rest in you. Keep our attention on what you want us to hear and know. In Christ’s name, I pray, Amen.

Typically, this is how we hear and interpret our passage: The world is made up of two kinds of people: Marthas and Marys. The Marthas are the ones who get stuff done, they stay busy, they take care of friends and family members, they’re go-getters, dependable, and show their love in a well-cooked meal, although they may not sit down and eat it with you. The Marys of the world are reflective, discerning, good listeners, patient, structured, and pay attention to one thing at a time. After hearing our passage, it seems that the only conclusion is that we should be and act like Mary.

Yet, as someone who identifies as a Martha, I wonder if that conclusion is definite.

I have a few questions:

If Martha would not have complained about Mary not helping her, would Jesus have told her to stop being hospitable? I assume not.

If the world is made up of reflective Marys, would the church or the world even function? I assume not.

If this passage is about discipleship, why do we put these two women against each other, what if both of them are not fully acting in their life of following Christ?

Interpretation of this brief story is usually determined by the stereotypes we heap on these two women, which all too often force us to choose one over the other. As a consequence, interpretation has long traded in binary oppositions. Martha welcomes and seeks to serve Jesus through her hospitality, but she is also portrayed here as overwhelmed, frustrated, and even self-righteous, stuck in traditional women’s work in the kitchen. Mary, for her part, takes on the role of a liberated woman, eschewing her domestic responsibilities to attend to her spiritual nurture and theological education. Neither woman comes off well: Jesus chides Martha for her anxiety, even though she seems to embody the ideal of service that Jesus elsewhere clearly affirms (10:40, 41). Despite choosing “the better part” (10:42b), Mary never speaks a word. She has broken free of a traditional female role but remains passive. If we come to this story looking for an unambiguous role model in one of these women, with the other serving as foil, we will be disappointed. While the story seems to invite the reader to take sides between these sisters and the values and roles they represent, it also resists a definitive resolution of these tensions. In the end, it may compel us to abandon our desire for either/or, exclusive alternatives. How often are we driven by binary thinking?

We are neither a Martha nor a Mary, nonetheless we embody both on our good days. We care for those around us, show hospitality to strangers, and still have time to pray, read our Scriptures, and reflect in our devotionals. And on those good days when we embody both Mary and Martha, with our whole and genuine selves, we are able to practice our faith in beautiful ways.

And I would say that those beautiful moments of faith are not far and in-between. Rather, it’s that we don’t reflect enough on our weeks to recall where we saw Jesus show up. The problem is that we have so much other static in our lives that confuses and crushes us. I mean it’s pretty easy to feel overwhelmed like Martha when we listen to the news hearing about inflation rates, a new even more contagious COVID wave, daily shootings, the war in Ukraine, droughts, forest fires across Europe, and the list goes on and on.

For me, our Prayers of the People have become a barometer to hear how vulnerable we are willing to be with what we share, who in the community we are listening to, and how often we are sharing our faith with others. I’ve been part of other churches of the same size and often would not hear more than 2 prayers spoken a week. We are in a unique and blessed situation and I am truly grateful.

Last week, we heard Jesus share the Parable of the Good Samaritan, which presents one way of discipleship. Going out of your way to care for a neighbor and being intentional about whom you make your neighbor.

This week, our passage immediately follows last week’s parable. Yet, it’s less about whom you are making your neighbor and how you are conducting your faith at home.

By themselves in their home, Martha and Mary are each incomplete disciples, but together they embody the listening and service that Jesus had hoped for when he sent his disciples before him in mission just a few chapters earlier. The problem, of course, is that Martha and Mary are not holding their gifts together in partnership. Somehow, the cord that makes these two women “sisters” in the household has become frayed. Luke describes Martha as “distracted by her many tasks” (v. 40). The verb Luke uses here and again in Jesus’ response to Martha in 10:41 (merimnaō, “to worry or be concerned”) carries a sense of having one’s attention so monopolized by something, even a necessary thing, that it threatens either to choke or to tear one apart (see 8:14; 12:22–31).

Martha’s anxiety had overcome her and she could not focus on the Word made flesh in her very presence. Yet with this strong verb of being deathly worried, I wonder if Mary helped Martha that Martha would’ve been able to pay attention more. I’m not sure. What we can know for sure though is that Jesus only chastised Martha after she complained about Mary, not before. In other words, Martha’s hospitality was still important and vital to Jesus.

We should also notice that Jesus identified Mary’s choice as the “better part” but not the only part. Sitting at the Lord’s feet should be not mistaken for the one necessary thing (v. 42); it is only one part of trusting God.

The brief story of Martha and Mary juxtaposes many aspects of discipleship—hospitality, listening and doing, proclaiming the coming of God’s Realm, and the actions that embody this proclamation. Just as we must not favor some gifts over another, we must not put Martha and Mary against one another. I mean what’s the point in creating another division, hasn’t the world already made us try to hate each other enough?

Let us continue to find ways to be our true and authentic selves as disciples of Jesus, we all have much work to do.

Let us celebrate our gifts and the gifts of others, they all come from God.

And finally let us find more ways to embrace our neighborhood, family, and friends with Martha’s hospitality and Mary’s gentle spirit. Amen.

Luke 10:25-37

Just then a lawyer stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he said, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?” He said to him, “What is written in the law? What do you read there?” He answered, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself.” And he said to him, “You have given the right answer; do this, and you will live.”

But wanting to justify himself, he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?” Jesus replied, “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell into the hands of robbers, who stripped him, beat him, and went away, leaving him half dead. Now by chance, a priest was going down that road; and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. So likewise a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan while traveling came near him; and when he saw him, he was moved with pity. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, having poured oil and wine on them. Then he put him on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him. The next day he took out two denarii, gave them to the innkeeper, and said, ‘Take care of him; and when I come back, I will repay you whatever more you spend.’ Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?” He said, “The one who showed him mercy.” Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.”         

Please pray with me: O Neighborly God, these familiar words bring us comfort and have shaped us as a people. Stir up within us new understandings of this passage. Send your Spirit, I pray, Amen.

In 2010, Saturday Night Live introduced a new sketch that changed my life. It was a game show called, “What’s That Name?” The two contestants are first shown pictures of celebrities, which they can name instantly. Then, onto the stage walks the first contestant’s doorman, someone he sees regularly. And the host asks, “What’s his name?” After much awkward strain, the contestant admits that he doesn’t know his name, although the doorman knows his name and even shares something that his son enjoys doing. They then go through the same routine for the next contestant’s maid, who she also can’t name. Then eight interns appear on the stage, who worked at the first contestant’s office, and he says randomly, “Josh” and there are three “Joshes” and he wins 3 million dollars. The host asks if he wants to double it and he says, “Let’s go for it.” The host then brings back the doorman and asks for his name again, and the first contestant has already forgotten Norman the Doorman’s name. And loses all of the prize money.

It changed my life in that I wanted to make sure that for people who are part of my life, those I see often, I know their names and have at least something I remember that I can talk to them about. It’s me trying to be intentional. It also certainly helps out with being pastoral.

As we hear in Jesus’ parable, it was not “by chance” that the Samaritan passed by the stripped and beaten man, but he was deliberate in making him his neighbor and showing him care.

Our passage opens with a lawyer confronting Jesus to test him, and not asking him a genuine question. This lawyer too is not an attorney of the secular law, but an authority of the biblical law.

The lawyer addresses Jesus as Teacher and wonders what he must do to inherit eternal life. Now, this is not what we often think of as eternal life, perhaps of a heavenly realm, clouds, maybe even a city. Rather, it was more like what does a life beyond life look like, how can I live as if I’m currently living in God’s Realm, where God is on the throne and not a flawed human.

Jesus responds not with an answer, but with two questions, “What is written in the law? What do you read there?” These questions together imply that our Scriptures are living texts of interactive possibility. They are not, on the one hand, stagnant words that simply say what they say to whoever reads them. Nor are they empty pages onto which we can pour opinions willy-nilly. There is the written and the interpretation of the written. Not even Jesus believed in a plain understanding of Scripture, but that it must be interpreted and reinterpreted.

The lawyer responded correctly with the twin commandments of loving God and loving neighbor.

And yet Jesus doesn’t stop there. He illustrates what it means to love neighbor by telling a parable, one that we’ve come to know as a Parable of the Good Samaritan, although that phrase is not found in the text itself.

Unfortunately, such familiarity—as the saying goes—can also breed a certain contempt; for there is a tendency to reduce our parable to simplistic terms: “Be nice like the Samaritan, not nasty like the clergy!”

Or perhaps we have a higher understanding and can make the connections between action and reflection, ethics, and theology, in these six verses. The early church fathers, as I’ve spoken about before, loved allegory. For our parable, they understood the journeying victim as Christ; the innkeeper as the church; the two coins are the sacraments, etc. While interesting, it doesn’t seem that helpful to our context.

The injured man in our parable is a Jew, as suggested by the wider narrative context and the setting in which his attack occurs. Jesus does not explain why the priest and Levite—highly esteemed Jewish religious figures associated with the Jerusalem temple—neglect to assist one of their own people. The parable treats their staying across the road from a fellow Jew in need as a shocking event. Nothing indicates that they think the victim is dead or that they fear contracting contamination from a corpse; even if the man were dead, such purity concerns would be insignificant compared to the weightier need to arrange for the burial of an exposed body. The point is that two people who presumably represent the identity and piety of the victim do not express any concern toward him and remain unwilling to assume the risks of pausing in a dangerous place. The two act in identical ways: each arrives, sees the man and passes by on the other side. Nothing can excuse their refusal to reach out.

The Samaritan’s introduction jolts the audience. “Samaritan” is the first word of the Greek sentence that begins with verse 33. He appears out of place on a Judean road. To most Jews in Jesus’ world, this character represents an enemy, the other.

The Samaritan does not pass by. He draws close, “moved by compassion,” moved by the Spirit of God poured into his heart to cross over to where the man lies. Seeing the man is alive, he pours oil to cleanse the wound and wine to dull the pain; he picks him up, takes him to an inn, and promises to return to resolve whatever is owed. This Samaritan has already received eternal life. He is living it then and there.

This is more than a parable about a helpful stranger; it is about God's transforming power at work in those who travel the dangerous roads in our world, moving us into the fullness of life, eternal life, here and now.

There is this Greek word suykiran that occurs in verse 31, when we are introduced to the priest, it’s only found here in all of the New Testament, it’s translated as by chance, and can also mean accidentally.

The verse goes like this:

“Now by chance or accidentally a priest was going down that road; and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side.”

Then in the next verse, it says, So likewise a Levite… apparently it was by chance for him too.

But then the parable shifts when it says “But a Samaritan while traveling came near him; and when he saw him, he was moved with pity.”

This was not an accident or by chance.

It’s not by chance that you are here this morning either.

It’s no accident that our church has a food pantry, a monthly meal, prays for one another, participates in Bible Studies, and extravaganzas, and has Communion once a month.

Jesus calls us to go and do likewise, to be like the Samaritan being active in making neighbors, in showing mercy, in being compassionate.

One of my favorite quotes by theologian Gustavo Gutierrez is this “Neighbor is not the one whom I find in my path, but rather the one in whose path I place myself, the one whom I approach and actively seek.”

We do not have time to live accidentally or merely by chance. Our calling is to go and do, not sit, and think.

May we continue to be the church that actively seeks out what our neighbors need.

May we be compassionate and take risks like the Samaritan.

May we be empowered by God’s Spirit to Go and Do, even when it may be uncomfortable. Amen.

Luke 10:1-11, 16-20

After this the Lord appointed seventy others and sent them on ahead of him in pairs to every town and place where he himself intended to go. He said to them, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest. Go on your way. See, I am sending you out like lambs into the midst of wolves. Carry no purse, no bag, no sandals; and greet no one on the road. Whatever house you enter, first say, ‘Peace to this house!’ And if anyone is there who shares in peace, your peace will rest on that person; but if not, it will return to you. Remain in the same house, eating and drinking whatever they provide, for the laborer deserves to be paid. Do not move about from house to house. Whenever you enter a town and its people welcome you, eat what is set before you; cure the sick who are there, and say to them, ‘The kingdom of God has come near to you.’ But whenever you enter a town and they do not welcome you, go out into its streets and say, ‘Even the dust of your town that clings to our feet, we wipe off in protest against you. Yet know this: the kingdom of God has come near.

Whoever listens to you listens to me, and whoever rejects you rejects me, and whoever rejects me rejects the one who sent me.”

The seventy returned with joy, saying, “Lord, in your name even the demons submit to us!” He said to them, “I watched Satan fall from heaven like a flash of lightning. See, I have given you authority to tread on snakes and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy; and nothing will hurt you. Nevertheless, do not rejoice at this, that the spirits submit to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven.”                              

Please pray with me: O Prince of Peace, sit with us this morning as contemplate and are inspired by your word to us. Give us understanding. Send us your grace. In Christ’s name we pray Amen.

Look how far we’ve come.

It will be exactly one year tomorrow since we had our first hybrid worship service. It came after a year of Zoom only worship. And it wasn’t just that we had worship online, but also Sunday School, Bible Study, Session, Committee meetings, Faithful Remnants, coffee hour, and Christian Life events all hosted over Zoom.

Then a committee was formed in the Spring of 2021 and Session agreed for us to start hybrid worship services.

Look how far we’ve come.

We’ve learned that some things make sense for us to do over Zoom and so we continue to have Bible Study, Committee meetings, and Session all from the comfort of our homes.

We’ve added a few things in-person this year too. On this Tuesday, we’ll have our fourth First Tuesday, each time we’ve had at least 20 people gathered. This year we also had a full Holy Week with services from Thursday-Sunday, all meaningful and unique.

Even as all that is normal is upended, we have stayed on course.

Look how far we’ve come.

The Fellowship Hall is painted, Crafters have been meeting regularly again, we’re in the Fourth of July Parade tomorrow, our Food for Hope Pantry has been blessed with volunteers and donations these last few busy months, and we’ve received a grant to try something new starting this fall with an Artist-in-Residence who will teach classes and create interactive and fun projects around the church.

Look how far we’ve come and God is not done with us yet.

I’m grateful to be in a congregation who shows love by praying for each other, by going with the flow in what church has looked like and now looks like, that you all still want to have fun events together and you’re not sick of each other yet. This is a blessed church.

On July 6, I will have been here for two years and thinking through where we were when I started and where we’re at now, it just fills me with joy!

This morning, our scripture centers on Jesus sending out seventy disciples to places where he was planning to go to spread the gospel, heal the sick, and exorcise demons.

Like these early disciples, we are called on this same mission: to be the presence of Christ in our neighborhood. We’ve been working at that with our pantry program and gathering around a meal on First Tuesdays. I’m very much looking forward to marching in the parade tomorrow to show those who don’t know, that we exist, that we’re thriving, and that they are invited to join us as we follow in God’s mission.

One chapter earlier in Luke, Jesus sends the Twelve out in mission, now Jesus sends seventy. The number seventy, in the ancient world, implies all of humanity, as Genesis 10 provides a list of all the nations of the world, numbering seventy. Here the recurring theme in Luke is once again repeated: salvation is for all of humanity.

The disciple’s mission is holistic—preaching, teaching, and healing—and the apostles have the same authority for these ministries that Jesus himself has. The gospel of peace will take the seventy into direct conflict with Satan, whose power falls before the divine mission. Even so, they are to go peaceably, with the message that the kingdom of God is near.

Having apostolic authority in our passage means having the power to cure the sick, exorcise demons, bestow peace, and announce the kingdom of God. It also means having the courage and freedom to go forth in vulnerability and intentional poverty, to travel lightly, and to depend on the hospitality of others. It means a nonviolent response to rejection at the hands of others. All of these actions are done to prepare others to receive Jesus. When the apostles see the power of God manifested in their ministry, they are not to rejoice over their apostolic role, but rather because their names are written in heaven. Everything about the apostolic mission, in other words, subverts the systems of power and privilege and instead, it’s about peace.

Peace has been steeped in the words of Jesus these last two weeks. When James and John want to bring down fire from heaven to kill the Samaritans who rejected the Gospel, Jesus tells them to move on and go to the next village. In our passage today, Jesus sends out the seventy with great authority, but also with gentleness and peace.

As someone who has always been a big guy, they even called me Big Tim in elementary school, I had to learn how to be gentle. My brother can tell you about all the bruises and bloody noses he had from me as I was still learning to be gentle, especially during our wrestling in the side yard. Gentleness, if you’ve forgotten, is a fruit of the Spirit.

Peace and gentleness seem to be quite impossible to do today. You either stand on one side or the other. You’re either for or against. Everything is simply dualistic without any complexity when it comes to the issues. When Jesus sent out the Twelve and the Seventy, he was explicit that they must enter stranger’s homes in peace and accept their hospitality, but implicit in this is that they are called to encounter people where they are. This is not a call for being moderate, but to show love wastefully and to seek understanding over winning arguments.

While I think it’s right to not look for a blueprint for ministry in the details of Jesus’ instructions, one aspect is worthy of our attention from the passage.

Jesus promises that the harvest is abundant. He sees abundance where others might see scarcity. This is decidedly not because he is an optimist but, rather, because of his faith in “the Lord of the harvest” (v. 2). Jesus does not commission the seventy to prepare a harvest; that remains God’s responsibility. Rather, Jesus commissions his disciples to gather the harvest in and to pray that other laborers will join them in this important work. While our contexts for ministry may have changed from that of the seventy, Jesus’ commission to his followers remains essentially the same. God is responsible for the growth of our communities. We are called to be open to this growth; to plan, organize, and work in a way that anticipates, rather than impedes, such growth; and to pray for and invite others to join us in gathering the harvest God has prepared.

As we continue to try new things, continue meeting around tables, and providing food for neighbors, let us have a spirit of joy and gentleness. People pay attention to such things.

The harvest is plentiful, may we continue to pray to our Lord of abundance to have our eyes and hearts open.

Look how far we’ve come, Memorial; God is not done with us yet. Amen.

Luke 9:51-62

When the days drew near for him to be taken up, he set his face to go to Jerusalem. And he sent messengers ahead of him. On their way they entered a village of the Samaritans to make ready for him; but they did not receive him, because his face was set toward Jerusalem. When his disciples James and John saw it, they said, “Lord, do you want us to command fire to come down from heaven and consume them?” But he turned and rebuked them. Then they went on to another village.

As they were going along the road, someone said to him, “I will follow you wherever you go.” And Jesus said to him, “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” To another he said, “Follow me.” But he said, “Lord, first let me go and bury my father.” But Jesus said to him, “Let the dead bury their own dead; but as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God.” Another said, “I will follow you, Lord; but let me first say farewell to those at my home.” Jesus said to him, “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.”                  

Please pray with me: Almighty and Compassionate God, we are grateful to be among other followers of yours. Thank you for your Word even when the words are difficult to swallow. Calm us this morning and help us to focus on you and reflect on our Christian walk. In Christ’s name, I pray, Amen.

This last week, I was with over 100 middle and high school campers, and 20 adults at a Christian camp in Altoona, Pa. The youth from Philly were fascinated that there wasn’t a Wawa in sight, only Sheetz. The ones I hung out with really liked the mountains and all the green trees. I helped supervise a group tear down a fence and build a new one for a family on a fixed income. We cultivated relationships with the owners of the house Leftie and Yvette and by the end of the week, the campers were sharing how much that they’ll miss them.

During the day we worked and, in the evening, the hired summer staff led worship and reflections. They were all college students who shared their journeys of faith. Often for them there was some kind of near-death experience or a decision where they, led by God, pivoted away from a bad situation and were led into a community of faith. The theme of the week was Being a Disciple.

Discipleship can often be a sticky subject for reformed theologians. We are compelled by God into faith and often the discipleship piece is bypassed because if heaven or life eternal with God is the goal, why should the in-between matter? We’re already in God’s fold. The question might come up then, is God’s love conditional and my discipleship measured on judgment day?

Well, no. God’s love is unconditional and feeling compelled by the Spirit to follow in the way of Jesus is sufficiently enough. What comes after though is what we’re talking about this morning. The way of discipleship opens our worldview, causes us to bear the fruits of the Spirit, and teaches us that this is not about only you, but all of us.

Let’s hear what our passage has to say about discipleship.

Our opening verse introduces a dramatic turning point in the narrative: ‘When the days drew near for [Jesus] to be taken up, he set his face to go to Jerusalem.’ This brief notice sets the stage for major developments in the story. Not only does it indicate that Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem will lead to his ultimate fate, the sentence also provides a theological interpretation of those events. Luke here does not forecast Jesus’ ‘death’ or his ‘crucifixion’; instead, Jesus will be ‘taken up’ – a reference to Jesus’ ascension. I came across this interpretation in all of my commentaries.

You see, among the Gospels, Luke alone narrates that the risen Jesus is carried up into heaven. This reality relates to a larger emphasis in Luke. For Luke, Jesus’ death is not a saving event; it is a tragedy. Thus, Luke omits Mark and Matthew’s teaching that the Son of Man gives his life as a ‘ransom for many’ (Mk 10.45; par. Mt. 23.28). Instead, Jesus laments his future rejection – not for his own sake but as a failure on the part of Jerusalem’s inhabitants (13.33-35; 19.41-44). It is Jesus’ resurrection and ascension, not his death, that bear the power of salvation.

And so for our salvation, Jesus “set[s] his face to go to Jerusalem.” He is resolute, single minded, and prophetic in the manner of Moses and Elijah, with whom he has conversed in 9:28–36. Yet we know Jesus is more than a prophet. He is the Messiah. In this text Jesus begins in earnest to prepare his disciples for what lies ahead. The tone is sober. Jesus has already begun to warn the disciples that he will be betrayed and put to death (9:21–22, 44). Partnership with Jesus in his mission will require rugged commitment. The disciples must learn how to respond to rejection and persecution. To be a Christ-follower is to walk the way of Jesus regardless of the outcome. And in our passage, Jesus sends his disciples ahead of him into Samaria.

Samaria stood between Galilee and Judea, and therefore it would be natural that Jesus, having “set his face” to go to Jerusalem, would go through Samaria. Not surprisingly, his party is not well received. The passage could be read as preparation for the parable of the Good Samaritan, which we will hear in the next chapter.

To travel through Samaria is a major challenge, since Jews and Samaritans do not associate with each other (John 4:9), because of hostilities that are centuries old. The Samaritans are the descendants from northern Israelite tribes who were not deported by the Assyrian Empire after the destruction of the Kingdom of Israel in 722 BCE and we’re also not removed when the Babylonian Empire removed the people of Judah, almost 130 years later. They were always left behind and we’re considered mixed blood. Just read Ezra and Nehemiah.

During Jesus’ time, Josephus recorded continuing acts of violence against Jewish pilgrims passing through Samaria on their way to Jerusalem (Jewish War 2.232).

Nevertheless, Jesus involves the disciples in a mission to the despised Samaritans, anticipating the subsequent mission of disciples to spread the gospel beyond Judea and into Samaria (Acts 8:4–25). The disciples soon learn the risks of such a mission, for unlike others who had welcomed Jesus the Samaritans did not receive Jesus because his face was set for Jerusalem.

Yet to their credit, the disciples go to the Samaritans with Jesus’ message. They are willing to reach out as Jesus does, beyond familiar boundaries.

Notice, the journey to Jerusalem begins with rejection. Just as Jesus’ baptism was followed by rejection in his hometown of Nazareth, so now the transfiguration which happened earlier in chapter nine, an event parallel to the baptism, is followed by rejection in Samaria. Rejection by the Samaritans on one level testifies to the tension between Jews and Samaritans, but their inhospitality also means they are unwilling to follow one on his way to suffering and death. But more significant is the fact that Jesus has sent two disciples into a Samaritan village to arrange for lodging and food. Jesus was planning to take his ministry among these outsiders, these despised peoples! He has ministered to Jews and Gentiles, to social, ritual, and political outcasts, and now here in Samaria, as far away as one could be and still be in the land. Later, Jesus would say to his disciples, “And you shall be my witnesses in Jerusalem and in all Judea and Samaria and to the end of the earth” (Acts 1:8).

James and John as we heard in our passage responding to the rejection say to Jesus, “Lord, do you want us to command fire to come down from heaven and consume them?” But Jesus turned and rebuked them. Then they went on to another village.

The emphasis on God’s all-encompassing love is highlighted in these passages by the rejection of violence against the Samaritans: it is not simply contrary to Jesus’ vision but incompatible with his very identity and mission. Similarly, those who would embrace and be embraced by the radical love of God made known in Jesus must necessarily see that this love is contrary to all human conceptions of love. Everything—friendship, familial connections, piety, discipleship—looks different when viewed through the lens of God’s agape love.

It’s become quite conventional these days to look down on our adversaries, political, religious, and otherwise. But Jesus proclaims that following him involves letting go of conventions like these, steadfastly looking ahead, not backward; proclaiming God’s dawning reign, not falling back into deadening routines; and embracing a life of getting out and about in the neighborhood, not retreating back into our foxholes.

In other words, at its heart, discipleship is about being on the move, getting after it, “putting ourselves out there,” as we say. It’s no accident that one of the oldest names for the Jesus movement is “the Way.” You can even hear an echo of it in this passage, as Luke writes, “As they were going along the road,” or “along the way…” (Luke 9:57)). Following Jesus isn’t about standing still. It’s about being on the move — all the Way to Jerusalem.

May we be a church on the move. Sharing the good news and joy that we have experienced in Christ.

May we find ways to expand our walk by being willing to experience other Christian spiritual practices, having spiritual conversations, and deepening our understanding in the Word.

May we be a church who continues to be inviting and welcoming to those who have been considered outsiders. Amen.

John 16:12-15

“I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now. When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth; for he will not speak on his own, but will speak whatever he hears, and he will declare to you the things that are to come. He will glorify me, because he will take what is mine and declare it to you. All that the Father has is mine. For this reason, I said that he will take what is mine and declare it to you.”

Please pray with me: O Holy One, sit with us this morning as we reflect on your Word. Give us understanding and insight. Help us to focus only on you. I pray this in Christ’s name, Amen.

I had the chance to hang out with a four-year-old this past week. And being as curious as I am, I asked him many questions.

What’s your favorite thing to watch?

What kinds of games do you like to play?

What are the names of two of your friends?

Then I decided to ask him, “What do you think of the Trinity?” It seemed appropriate, today we celebrate Trinity Sunday.

And he responded with, “I don’t know what the Trinity is.”

So I sat him down and for the next few hours, I told him the history of the Nicene Creed and the Greek word, homoousia, how perichoresis (the holy Trinitarian dance) was popularized by the Cappadocian Fathers, how the economic Trinity has dominated theological studies over the immanent Trinity, and how most Phds are written on Social Trinitarianism. Sadly, the kid fell asleep listening to me.

Okay, okay the second part of the story did not happen. I assume that if I would talk to anyone about the history of the Trinity, they’d probably fall asleep. The way we experience the Trinity is dynamic, compelling, and beautiful. The study of the Trinity though can be very dry, often rooted in controversy, and uses a lot of jargon.

This Sunday is celebrated as “Trinity Sunday,” an opportunity to intentionally reflect on one of Christianity’s most important and baffling ideas.

The ancient doctrine of the Trinity arose out of early Christian reflection on scripture, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit. For his earliest followers, encountering Jesus was encountering God directly — and at the same time, Jesus spoke of God as both distinct from him and yet nevertheless “one” with him. There was both a “two-ness” and a “oneness” in play, and so Christians sought out ways to express this mystery with poetry and precision.

Likewise, at the same time, Jesus spoke of the Spirit as a guiding, challenging presence distinct both from him and from the One to whom he prayed. And so arose, over time, the church’s doctrine of the Trinity, the idea that God is properly conceived as both Three and One. Not three Gods — for that would miss God’s oneness. And not merely One — for that would miss God’s threeness, and wouldn’t do justice to the sense of encountering God in Jesus and the Holy Spirit. Indeed, rather than an esoteric picture of God “up there”, the doctrine of the Trinity’s quite practical upshot is to cast a vision of God “down here and everywhere”: creating, redeeming, and sustaining creation at every turn, with every unfurling leaf and blossom. In a word, the doctrine is ultimately about a world saturated with divine presence, and a God “in whom we live, and move, and have our being” (Acts 17:28).

It’s unlikely that John’s Gospel specifically had the Trinity in mind as he wrote. Rather, the teaching emerged from the church’s retrospective reflection on scriptural passages like these. In this way, Christian theology always emerges out of the community’s dialogue over time, and accordingly, the church’s understanding often grows deeper and wider over the centuries than it may have originally been imagined.

The point isn’t that John had the “Trinity” in mind as he wrote; rather, our passage features the sort of raw material out of which those later teachers undertook that development, like a lumberyard from which carpenters later build a house.

Encountering Jesus, early disciples found themselves face-to-face with Immanuel, “God with us,” the good shepherd who seeks and finds and saves the lost. Encountering the Spirit, early disciples found themselves heart-to-heart with God, the inspiring guide and advocate who makes the church possible and sustains creation. In the end, the doctrine of the Trinity is about a God who is living and active in our lives: creating and recreating, teaching and guiding, refining and empowering.

The main focus of John’s Gospel today, however, is not on the interrelations of the three persons within the life of God. Instead, it is on what has come to be called “the economic Trinity”—the way in which the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit relate one to another in respect to the creation, preservation, and perfection of the world.

In John 16 the emphasis falls particularly on the role of the Holy Spirit in interpreting to the disciples the way in which Jesus is “the way, and the truth, and the life” (14:6) that lead to the Father. In this particular section of John, the Spirit proves to the disciples that the world was wrong to condemn Jesus and that the forces of evil have been defeated. The Spirit then empowers them to go to the world to proclaim the real truth about both Jesus and the world. In this way, the Spirit continues the work of Jesus within the world after he “has gone to the Father.”

What our passage wants most to do is encourage within the community an openness to fresh encounters with the revelation of Jesus. John intends to shape a community that is receptive to Spirit-guided growth. It is not that there will be new “truth” beyond that of “the Word made flesh;” John cannot imagine that. But he can and does imagine that the message of Jesus and the meaning of Jesus will require ongoing interpretation. John imagines a Christian community that is not locked into the past but understands what Jesus means for its own time. He anticipates changing circumstances and the emergence of new questions which will require the community to think afresh. John is confident that, relying on the guidance of “the Spirit of truth,” the community will be led where it needs to go. Where the community needs to go is not merely to a deeper intellectual understanding of Jesus’ revelation, but to a life conforming to Jesus’ life and teaching. The community John seeks to form is not only one that has the right understanding, but one that corresponds morally and ethically with Jesus, cares about the things Jesus cares about, and carries out the kind of ministry that reflects Jesus’ ministry.

This last First Tuesday, we talked about how the Trinity is a mystery, and how we have many analogies in trying to understand this doctrine. While much of our faith is simple: being compelled by the Spirit to respond to God’s grace, it seems that the Trinity is one of the more complex doctrines of our faith.

In our passage, Jesus spells it out plainly that God and him are one, and the Spirit speaks the truth, supplying us what we need.

While the Trinity is impossible to explain, the way we experience the Spirit in this place is tangible. For me, it’s particular lines in hymns, or hearing the vulnerability in prayer requests, or seeing the movement of the Spirit in the volunteers and people at Food for Hope. The Spirit will continue to thrive if we are open.

May we continue to lean on the indescribable Trinity as we journey together. May our hearts continue to stay open to new experiences and moments with the Trinity. And may we find ways to share the Spirit of Truth with others. Amen.

John 14:8-17

Philip said to him, “Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied.” Jesus said to him, “Have I been with you all this time, Philip, and you still do not know me? Whoever has seen me has seen the Father. How can you say, ‘Show us the Father’? Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me? The words that I say to you I do not speak on my own; but the Father who dwells in me does his works. Believe me that I am in the Father and the Father is in me; but if you do not, then believe me because of the works themselves. Very truly, I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these, because I am going to the Father. I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Father may be glorified in the Son. If in my name you ask me for anything, I will do it.

“If you love me, you will keep my commandments. And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever. This is the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees him nor knows him. You know him, because he abides with you, and he will be in you.”                         

Please pray with me: O God, whose Spirit transformed the lives of the apostles and all of those who were in earshot. We invite you this morning to move among us, soften our hearts, and create more faith in us. We pray this in the name of Christ Jesus, Amen.

Happy Birthday, Church!

This morning we heard Miss Sue read for us Acts 2 which is the story of the birth of the church, with the inbreaking of the Spirit, tongues that preached the Gospel, a reluctant crowd, whose hearts will eventually soften by the end of the chapter, and a fiery and prophetic sermon by Peter.

The Spirit sounds rather wild. The Spirit brought loud sounds, fiery tongues, and a message that preaches equality across genders, classes, and races. The Spirit knows no bounds. And you would think that we should celebrate that more than once a year.

I was reminded earlier this week that rituals help us to pay attention. That when we celebrate Pentecost, we are forcing ourselves to remember that day, to be purposeful in wearing red which represents fire. To hold onto our red pinwheels celebrating that the Spirit is always moving, always blowing, never ceasing.

Pentecost is the fiftieth and last day of the Easter season. Next week is Trinity Sunday, and then nearly six months of “Ordinary Time” begins, during which we’ll walk together through the Gospel of Luke. From ten thousand feet, the Christian Year appears divided almost in half: about six months of holy seasons (Advent, Epiphany, Lent, Eastertide), and about six months of Ordinary Time. Like a pendulum swinging back and forth, or a pair of lungs breathing in and out, the church alternates between these two movements each year: high holidays and everyday life, the joys of celebration and the grunt work of growth.

Pentecost is the Christian reinterpretation of the ancient Jewish pilgrimage festival, the Festival of Weeks, or Shavuot, celebrated 50 days after Passover. For the ancient Israelites, this festival was an explicitly diverse, inclusive harvest celebration (see Deut 16:11; Lev 23:16), and over time, it also came to mark the reception of the Torah at Mount Sinai. For us, Pentecost celebrates the reception of the Holy Spirit and the birth of the church.

Let’s get into our passages:

The community of disciples are gathered because of the Festival of Weeks (Shavuot). Jesus had promised the arrival of the Holy Spirit not long after his departure — and sure enough, on the festival day itself, the Holy Spirit arrives. The scene is spectacular and chaotic: a violent, rushing sound like wind, and then “divided tongues, as of fire” — not a fire that destroys, but rather like the fire that Moses encountered at the burning bush, which was “blazing, yet it was not consumed” (Exodus 3:1-2).

The Spirit’s immediate effect is linguistic: many are empowered “to speak in other languages,” and at the same time, each person hears the testimony in their native language. Think of a meeting at the United Nations, in which each person hears (through a headset) the proceedings translated into their mother tongue. The upshot of all of this is a sense of togetherness and unity: diverse as they are, everyone understands and can communicate. Accordingly, they’re dazzled and taken aback, asking, “What does this mean?” (Acts 2:12).

As if to answer this question, Peter stands and speaks. He cites the prophet Joel, adapting those ancient words to illuminate the present: the final and decisive chapter of history has arrived, the dawn of God’s joyous Jubilee that Jesus declared early in his ministry and now the “pouring out” of the Holy Spirit upon “all flesh” (Joel 2:28; Acts 2:17). Jesus both heralded and inaugurated this new era, and the Spirit will now empower a community through whom the movement’s message of healing, redemption, and joy will go out to the ends of the Earth. The church is born! And we are thankful!

For the last two weeks in Faithful Remnants, I’ve been trying to ask more reflective questions about the previous week. Often, we let life pass us by without reflecting or being too intentional about when we experienced joy, or encountered God or even heard the Spirit speaking to us through friends or flowers.

Today is a perfect time to reflect on what “the church” is in the first place. This week’s passage points toward a portrait of the church as a dynamic community of people following Jesus, empowered by the Holy Spirit to carry out God’s mission of healing, redemption, and joy for the sake of the world.

Luke will cast the church as a prophetic community of bridge-builders, visionaries, and dreamers, male and female, slave and free (Acts 2:17) — and soon enough, this communitarian ethos extends to the church’s social and economic organization: “they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need” (Acts 2:43-47).

Likewise, this is a perfect week to reflect on how we understand the Holy Spirit. For Luke, the Spirit brings life, renewal, and restoration, sometimes in sudden, disruptive fashion: pride transformed into humility, fragmentation into community. And yet, for all the drama, Pentecost is only the beginning. Throughout the Book of Acts, again and again, the Spirit mobilizes the church and opens up new horizons for ministry. Breath means new life — and new life means new growth, change, and ongoing development. The Spirit gathers and protects, but also opens and challenges, provoking and pushing us along.

We also hear Jesus in John speaking of the Spirit as a constant Advocate for us, as the Spirit of truth, abiding with us always, and being in us.

And so today we say, “Happy Birthday, Church” — and also, “Let’s go!” The church is not a building, nor is it a particular membership or group of people. Rather, at its heart, the church is a mission, God’s mission, the adventurous challenge of understanding and connecting with neighbors. To listen and learn and speak each other’s languages. To celebrate and serve with the Spirit’s winds in our sails.

May we continue to be led by the Spirit, in our gardens, at First Tuesdays, at Food for Hope, at coffee hour, in worship, at Bible and Book Studies, in phone calls that check in on people, and in just being a church who is God’s mission in Fox Chase. May it be so, Amen.

John 17:20-26

I ask not only on behalf of these, but also on behalf of those who will believe in me through their word, that they may all be one. As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me. The glory that you have given me I have given them, so that they may be one, as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may become completely one, so that the world may know that you have sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me. Father, I desire that those also, whom you have given me, may be with me where I am, to see my glory, which you have given me because you loved me before the foundation of the world.

“Righteous Father, the world does not know you, but I know you; and these know that you have sent me. I made your name known to them, and I will make it known, so that the love with which you have loved me may be in them, and I in them.”

Please pray with me: O God who prays for us, may we listen and be. Sit with us this morning as we reflect on your Word. Transform us into loving followers. In Christ’s name I pray, Amen.

Jesus’ last words to his disciples was a prayer of belief, oneness, and love. Jesus encouraged his disciples to form a community with these as the framework. It wasn’t that they were going to agree on everything. I mean just read Acts of the Apostles or 1 Corinthians. The way they practiced this was by respecting and granting dignity to fellow followers of Christ even when they ate differently, acted differently, and even believed differently.

Christianity was never meant to be an individualistic belief system. We were always meant to share in this faith together, in community.

Yet, what went wrong? When did Christianity go from a family and community affair to a choice made by individuals?

In 2000, sociologist Robert Putman wrote the book “Bowling Alone, The Collapse and Revival of American Community.” Putman showed how since the 1960’s, the US moved from having bowling leagues pack bowling alleys, unions of all kinds, and the faithful fill the pews every Sunday, to the start of 1980’s onwards, people bowling alone, unions next to nil, and pews collecting cobwebs.

On religion, Putman wrote, “Privatized religion may be morally compelling and spiritually fulfilling, but it is disembodied from community… It knows little of communal support, and exists by and large independent of institutionalized religious forms; it may provide meaning to the believer and personal orientation, but it is not a shared faith, thus not likely to inspire group involvement… Believers perhaps, but belongers, not.”

We feel the consequences of privatized religion, those who put all of their faith into their beliefs, and yet not share in life, community, friendship, and Christ-like love with other Christians.

Our faith, if not else, must be embodied and shared in community. It’s what Jesus taught, how early Christians lived, and what we are called to. And because we often feel pressured to do things by ourselves we tend not to depend on others. Of course, we pray for each other, but what would it look like if we did as Jesus said, and became one, as he and the Father are one. We all have our own different experiences and life journeys, but also, we can trust one another and care for each other like family.

In our passage today, Jesus assures his distraught disciples after the Last Supper that he is by no means abandoning them, and his closing prayer brings this point home. The essence of their anxiety is fear of harm: they recognize that the world can be a dangerous place, a wilderness full of wolves, and with Jesus — their “good shepherd” — now leaving them, they are afraid. Jesus’ prayer speaks directly to this sense of vulnerability, calling on God to protect and sanctify them.

Jesus’ prayer also includes a vision of “the world” (kosmos) that is both tough-minded and tender, both realistic and hopeful. The presence of danger and evil — we might think today of gun violence and war — are all too real, and the world’s brokenness extends into every nook and cranny, including our own hearts and minds. And yet this broken world is the world God loves. God sees through and beyond the world’s distortions to the wholeness and beauty underneath it, the original dignity and goodness we imply whenever we say something is “broken.” And God seeks to restore that original beauty, and so sends Jesus “into the kosmos, for the love of the kosmos” — and likewise, Jesus sends us.

He sends us broadly with the three themes that emerge in our passage: belief, oneness, a love.

First, Jesus prays for those who have believed in him (v. 20), for those who will believe because of the witness of the disciples (v. 20), and for the world, that all might come to belief (v. 21). Here the evangelistic task of the local community of faith begins to breathe. Of primary concern is the nurture and growth of those within the family of faith (v. 26). Next there is an outreach in word and deed to those whom the church community encounters directly (v. 26). And finally, there is witness, service, and mission in the world—both the world nearby that does not yet share the heartbeat of Jesus and the world far away that might not yet have a name for the grace in life (v. 25).

Belief here means more than accepting cognitive information. Belief means recognizing that Jesus has been sent by the one he called “Father” (v. 23). John Chrysostom (ca. 347–407) argued that the world could come to such belief by observing the transformed lives of the followers of Jesus. He wrote, “And how will they believe this? ‘Because,’ Jesus says, ‘you are a God of peace.’ And, if therefore the (disciples) keep that same peace that they have learned (from me), their hearers will know the teacher by the disciples, however, if they quarrel, people will deny that they are the disciples of a God of peace and will not allow that I, not being peaceable, have been sent from you.” The challenge of living faithfully is not only a call to goodness; it is a call to let our lives invite others to follow Jesus.

Second, the unity within the community of the triune God is the unity to which Jesus points (v. 21). Jesus prays for nothing less than oneness for believers (v. 21). Can we imagine what Jesus felt as he moved inescapably toward his own death and still saw squabbling and power plays among his followers?

Jesus prays that the eleven disciples and those who come to belief because of the disciples be unified into one body (v. 20). There is to be no second-class citizenship among the people of faith. The ultimate unity of the church is not in human maneuvering but in the oneness of God (v. 21). We find our unity in our common acceptance by Christ.

Lastly, five times within these six verses, Jesus names “love” as the key descriptor of divine relationships (vv. 23, 24, 26). Love is the bond within the Godhead (vv. 23–24). Love is the divine gift to the disciples (v. 23). Love is the magnetic grace through which God seeks to attract the world (vv. 25–26). Love is the ingredient that the Lord prays will be within his followers (v. 26).

The prayer in John 17 might seem like sentimental mishmash if we did not know how the story ends. The love for which Jesus prays is cross-shaped love. There is indeed glory in this loving unity (v. 22), but the glory cannot be separated from the crucifixion. It is self-giving love that is resurrected into new life. Song of Solomon 8:6 claims that “love is strong as death.” The eternal Christ (v. 24) prays that his disciples might be “with me where I am” (v. 24). This is no small matter, considering that he was on his way to his death.

As Pentecost approaches, this week and next are a perfect time to reflect on what it means to be “church.” The church is a community that not only “follows” Jesus in the sense of listening to him and learning from him; we also are a community who “follows” Jesus in the sense of succeeding him, of taking up his mantle and carrying on his life and work, all so that his joy and our joy might be complete, not just here and there, but “to the ends of the earth.”

These last few weeks have been difficult. Three mass shootings in three weeks, a continuing war in Ukraine, and another wave of COVID. I mean it’s hard not to feel but helpless.

I started re-reading Bowling Alone this week because I remembered the Columbine School shooting in 1999. And hearing that the shooters bowled that morning before they killed 12 of their peers. I was on a bowling league at the time at White Oaks Lanes, but could not continue because I didn’t want people to associate me with wanting to kill or harm anyone. I returned to league bowling only after I graduated high school.

I do not recommend stopping things that bring you joy. We can only take one day at a time. This morning we heard Jesus pray for us that we may have oneness, love, and belief.

May we be a church that can be vulnerable enough to actually depend on each other. For us to recognize that Christianity should not be practiced alone, but in community. And that our faith compels us to have friendships. We are not alone. May it be so. Amen.

John 14:23-29

Jesus answered him, “Those who love me will keep my word, and my Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them. Whoever does not love me does not keep my words; and the word that you hear is not mine, but is from the Father who sent me.

“I have said these things to you while I am still with you. But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you everything, and remind you of all that I have said to you. Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid. You heard me say to you, ‘I am going away, and I am coming to you.’ If you loved me, you would rejoice that I am going to the Father, because the Father is greater than I. And now I have told you this before it occurs, so that when it does occur, you may believe.                        

Please pray with me: O God of Peace, we could use a bit more of that around the world please. Our hearts are heavy while grieving a million COVID deaths in the US, the war in Ukraine, and all the other things that are on our minds and hearts this morning. Send in your Spirit and quiet our anxieties at least for a little while. In Christ’s name, we pray, Amen.

When I read John’s Gospel, I sometimes want to ask Jesus “Why are you not being specific? Why are you not more concrete with what your followers need to be or do?”

Like for example, how are we to “keep” Jesus’ word?

Growing up I was taught that keeping the word meant to have the Bible memorized. I was even part of AWANA which means Approved Workmen Are Not Ashamed. It was a Christian Scouts Program where we earned patches if we memorized long passages or whole chapters of the Bible. We were also quizzed weekly on these scriptures.

Keep my word.

Maybe the word “keep” here is doing a lot of work, and it actually means, to obey. And if that’s what it means, I wonder if Jesus was thinking of a particular passage that he was looking for us to obey. Was it one of his teachings or something from the Hebrew Bible? And if you noticed as the verse continues, God won’t love those who don’t keep the word. And then how will we know God actually loves us if we are disobeying the word?

Keep my word.

And there’s even another definition to the word “keep” and that’s “to guard.” And this honestly sounds like the most ridiculous one, what does God’s word need protecting from. Perhaps bad interpretation? God will continue to take care of the word, there’s no doubt about that. We do not need to protect it.

Keep my word.

Last week, we heard Jesus talk about loving one another just as he loves us. And I talked about how he said those words around the table on the night he would be arrested. We are still around that table as Jesus gives his Farewell Discourse.

What this lectionary passage cuts off though is the question Jesus is responding to. The verse right before ours says, “Judas (not Iscariot) said to Jesus, “Lord, how is it that you will reveal yourself to us, and not to the world?’

Lots of commentaries will say how since John’s Gospel is the last one written out of the four. That during this time, Roman persecution was at its height and those followers of Jesus were hiding in their house churches not knowing what to do and Jesus’ words here comfort those early believers.

In the context of Jesus assuring his disciples that he is by no means abandoning them, his teaching about love and “keeping my word” functions as a soothing word of solace. The connection with his disciples, he insists, will be so integral that separation is virtually unthinkable; their everyday lives of “keeping my word” — that is, of following Jesus’ instruction, especially the new commandment to love one another— will be signs of their ongoing communion with him.

Jesus’ tone in this teaching, then, isn’t stern reproach; he’s not saying, If you want me to be with you, you’d better follow my commands. Instead, his aim is to console and assure, to paraphrase, “Just keep listening to me, following my instruction, keeping my word, and we’ll be together. Don’t worry. I will be with you, and our companionship will be even closer than it is now. Today we walk side by side — but in the days to come I will live in you, and you in me. Today, you walk in my footsteps — but in the days to come you will walk, as it were, ‘in my feet,’ and I will walk in yours. You will be my body, my hands and feet and word for a world that needs healing and good news. Friends, I’m not abandoning you — on the contrary, you and I will now be closer together than we’ve ever been before. I will abide in you, and you will abide in me (John 15:4). I will not leave you orphaned (John 14:18)!”

And then what’s more, in Jesus’ name, God will send the Holy Spirit as an Advocate (Greek Paraklete, “Helper,” literally “called alongside”). The Spirit will teach them “everything,” even beyond what Jesus has taught and at the same time “remind” them of what Jesus said. Thus, the Spirit will help them “keep my word,” and thereby maintain their symbiotic communion with Jesus: “because I live, you also will live.”

We often think and speak of the good news of Christ’s advent, death, resurrection, his coming near — and here we learn of the good news of Christ’s departure, his “going away” (John 14:28).

He goes away like a tablet that dissolves in a cup of water: the tablet is gone, but at the same time its presence pervades the water entirely. Jesus’ absence, then, is also a new presence of the Spirit, all of which gives rise to the community of the church, the movement that will go on to do even “greater works” (John 14:12). In other words, Jesus leaves in order to make possible an even more intimate communion with us, and with creation as a whole. Jesus is both coming and going: “‘I am going away, and I am coming to you.”

At its heart, this is a passage of consolation, assuring dismayed disciples — then and now — that Jesus isn’t abandoning them. What’s coming, Jesus promises, isn’t distance but rather closeness, a companionship so intimate as to blur any sharp distinction between companions. After all, Jesus is God’s Word (Logos), and so by “keeping my word” (logon), by loving as Jesus loved, we abide in him as he abides in us (John 1:1; 14:23; 15:4).

This theme of mutual indwelling is shot through John’s Gospel, and also through the Bible as a whole. In our passage it sounds like God making a home with and in us. For John, then, the ultimate goal is not merely to follow Jesus or obey his commandments, but rather to live in Jesus as he lives in us.

What would such mutual indwelling look like? It would look like Jesus, and at the same time, it would look like us — that is, it would look like us being true to ourselves, the people God made us to be. In a word, it would look like love: incarnate, tangible, down-to-earth love. And from another angle, it would look like peace: not just any peace, but what Jesus calls “my peace,” the shalom of God, a buzzing, blooming, fruitful community, coming and going, alive with the Spirit, healthy and whole.

We are compelled by the Trinity to keep our Savior’s word and teachings, to accept God’s love, and to have a mutual indwelling with the Spirit. We are compelled and propelled into the world by the Triune God and must act.

This past week, Taylor Swift spoke at NYU’s Commencement Ceremony. A particular section resonated with me, deeply, and hopefully it will with you too. She said,

“I’d like to say that I’m a big advocate for not hiding your enthusiasm for things. It seems to me that there is a false stigma around eagerness in our culture of ‘unbothered ambivalence.’ This outlook perpetuates the idea that it’s not cool to ‘want it.’ That people who don’t try hard are fundamentally more chic than people who do. And I wouldn’t know because I have been a lot of things but I’ve never been an expert on ‘chic.’ But I’m the one who’s up here so you have to listen to me when I say this: Never be ashamed of trying. Effortlessness is a myth. The people who wanted it the least were the ones I wanted to date and be friends with in high school. The people who want it most are the people I now hire to work for my company.”

Let me conclude with this:

We have an Advocate, the Holy Spirit, who fights for us.

We are a church that desires to be Spirit led.

And we must never stop trying.

God’s Realm is certainly not a company, yet Taylor Swift’s sentiment stands true: we must be a people who are eager and enthusiastic about God’s movement in the world and follow where we are led.

May it be so. Amen.

John 13:31-35

When he had gone out, Jesus said, “Now the Son of Man has been glorified, and God has been glorified in him. If God has been glorified in him, God will also glorify him in himself and will glorify him at once. Little children, I am with you only a little longer. You will look for me; and as I said to the Jews so now I say to you, ‘Where I am going, you cannot come.’ I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

Please pray with me: O Loving Lord, we are eager to listen to you. Open our hearts a bit wider, focus our minds, and may our lives be turned over to you. May we take to heart your words this morning, that we may be a transformed people. In Christ’s name we pray, Amen.

In her autobiographical work, The Spiral Staircase, Karen Armstrong notes that in most religious traditions, faith is not about belief, but about practice. “Religion,” Armstrong writes, is not about having to believe or accept certain difficult propositions; instead, religion is “about doing things that change you.”

What’s the point of being or staying Christian if it doesn’t change us?

I think about this often. If I’m not somehow embodying the truths of Christianity, why should I want to follow in the ways of Jesus? I mean aren’t their other ways for me to spend my time? Wouldn’t it be easier to not practice or believe in much of anything? It would certainly be easy for me to watch movies or read books all day, to not encounter another soul, and yet not by my choice I am compelled to practice the fruits of the Spirit, to love all whom I encounter, to live a joyful life, to walk in the way of peace, to be patient and not let my emotions get the best of me, to speak with kindness, to promote goodness, to be faithful in who I am and who I follow, and practice self-control. 

This morning we hear this call from Jesus to his disciples. It’s a call with consequences. Love always has consequences.

So let’s get into our passage!

We are in the final evening with Jesus. This passage is normally read on Maundy Thursday, which means commandment Thursday, and it’s from this passage that we hear this reference. 

In the larger context is John’s version of the Last Supper, John doesn’t include communion, instead focusing on a foot washing and the “farewell discourses” — which are Jesus’ last words of guidance and consolation for his followers as he takes his leave. The broad strokes in this section of John, then, are that Jesus is on his way out, the Holy Spirit is on its way in (John 14:15-26), and the post-Easter church is about to be born — a community that, Jesus insists, will go on to do even “greater works” than he did (John 14:12). This week’s “new commandment” is central to Jesus’ instruction for that new community to come.

Jesus has just finished up the foot washing, and Judas has just left the dinner table, disappearing into the night (John 13:30). We might expect Jesus to condemn him, or at least to say, “Now the Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners” — but instead, Jesus announces the opposite: “Now the Son of Man has been glorified, and God has been glorified in him” 

Jesus then turns to his companions with tenderness: “Little children,” he says, “I am with you only a little longer” (John 13:33). And then to paraphrase: Just as I said to the Jewish authorities, I say also to you: Where I am going, you cannot follow. But even as I withdraw, I call on you to step forward and continue the mission we began together. Listen — I’m giving you a new commandment: Love one another, just as I have loved you... (John 13:34).

The content of love is not detailed. The passage simply points to Jesus as the model: “Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.” Readers naturally think of Jesus’ constant kindness and compassion for those he meets, of his weeping over Lazarus, of his commitment to the security of his flock. However, the command to love transcends such examples. As Jesus notes in John 15:13, “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” This is what Jesus does; he lays down his life for his friends. Having Jesus as a model undoes all the limits. Whatever love might mean in a given moment; it asks for everything. Love does not calculate the costs.

Too often, this command is domesticated into a bland personal platitude, something along the lines of “be kind” or “serve others” — while in fact, what Jesus has in mind here is distinctive and surprising, with wide-ranging social consequences.

The first thing to notice about this “new commandment” is that, on the surface at least, it isn’t particularly new; commands to love, after all, are at least as old as Leviticus (Lev 19:18).  What’s “new” here, then, must be in the second phrase: “as I have loved you.” The cross and resurrection haven’t happened yet, of course — so how has Jesus loved them so far? As it turns out, Jesus has just provided what he calls “an example” of his love: the foot washing (John 13:1-17; esp 13:15). And the foot washing, so far from a generic call to kindness or servanthood, is a distinctive and surprising model of love.

The foot washing itself is an experiential parable, a live demonstration of how this kind of love looks and feels — and a glimpse of the community it creates. Don’t servants wash the feet of masters? Well, yes — but here Jesus does the opposite, levelling the field and redefining the relationship as “friends” (John 15:12-15). Isn’t the world as we know it divided into worthy and unworthy, insider and outsider, “clean” and “unclean”? Well, yes — but here Jesus pronounces Peter “entirely clean,” and likewise, in Acts, Peter proclaims that the Spirit’s love is open to all, Jews and Gentiles alike.

Following Jesus’ “new commandment” today means living out this dignifying, levelling, bridge-building love in our own lives and circumstances. 

This “new commandment” love defies expectations, transforms conventions, builds bridges precisely where no bridge is supposed to be possible. And it often takes us by surprise.

A love around the church that surprises me is when people show up to help. It’s not that I think that people won’t, it’s that I’m surprised in the giving of a 110%. It’s like when Anne and Clint helped out at Food for Hope yesterday and painted the Fellowship Hall afterwards. It’s when Robin comes to church on Wednesdays for Crafting between her shifts as a crossing guard. It’s times when Yvonne will surprise me with her ideas about fun events to do around the church. Or that the choir keeps singing. And all the energy, enthusiasm, and support that Miss Sue provides me and the church. 

We have so much love here.

Let me conclude in this way: 

Jesus does not talk about the importance of the Bible or a carefully constructed creed. The New Testament would not even be written until two generations after Jesus’ death, and the Nicene Creed would be hammered out by combative theologians over the next 350 years. The Bible and the creed would become terribly important to human beings over the years, while the one thing most important to Jesus would get lost as Christians wrestled with power and orthodoxy. What Jesus wanted us to know, apparently, was that although people would fight wars over who held correct beliefs, this was not Jesus’ primary concern. Jesus’ way was the way of little children, not the way of learned theologians and intelligent preachers. “Little children,” he said, “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another.” The commandment is not about what you believe; it is about how you live.

As one modern New Testament scholar observed: “[This] new command is simple enough for a toddler to memorize and appreciate, and it is profound enough that the most mature believers are repeatedly embarrassed at how poorly they comprehend it and put it into practice.”

And this is why we continue to show up to church, to continue to call and care for one another, because often we need to be reminded that Jesus wants us to love. To love without abandon. May you continue to be reminded of it every day this week, Amen.

John 10:22-30

At that time the festival of the Dedication took place in Jerusalem. It was winter, and Jesus was walking in the temple, in the portico of Solomon. So the Jews gathered around him and said to him, “How long will you keep us in suspense? If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly.” Jesus answered, “I have told you, and you do not believe. The works that I do in my Father’s name testify to me; but you do not believe, because you do not belong to my sheep. My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish. No one will snatch them out of my hand. What my Father has given me is greater than all else, and no one can snatch it out of the Father’s hand. The Father and I are one.”

Please pray with me: O Shepherding Lord, walk alongside us this morning. Help us to place our trust in you although we may fear the paths ahead. Calm our speeding hearts that we may hear your voice. In Christ’s name I pray, Amen.

During the Easter season, it’s not just that we celebrate the impossible, God raising the Crucified Christ back from the dead, but we also get to time travel back in Jesus’ ministry. Leading up until Pentecost we will not encounter any other resurrected Jesus story, but instead, we will be spending these next few weeks hearing Jesus’ teachings on sheep and shepherds. Also, it kind of makes sense, since there are not enough resurrection stories to fill all these weeks.

Anyway, it may feel a bit like Spring outside now, yet in our passage, we’re in December. 

Our story begins with a debate between Jesus and his religious opponents. They are walking in the portico of Solomon in the temple, at the time of the feast of Dedication—what we know as the celebration of Hanukkah, always celebrated in wintertime. Hanukkah recalls God’s reclaiming of Jerusalem through the heroic faith of the Maccabees. Celebrated with lighted lamps, the feast is a joyous one for Israel. Ironically, the talk around Jesus in this passage is anything but joyous. The ironic contrast between the feast’s call for joy and the opponents’ attack upon Jesus is deepened because the Logos, Wisdom, and Light of the world is walking in the portico of Solomon, unrecognized by Jesus’ critics. What follows in the text is a centerpiece of Johannine theology.

The Jewish religious authorities ask him, “How long will you keep us in suspense? If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly.” Of course, Jesus never answers anything directly and that’s the point. 

The problem is that talking “plainly” about that which is inherently complex, or even beyond our understanding, is misleading and demeaning. The trouble with talking plainly about the things of God is that the things of God are anything but plain. When a person begins speaking with unequivocal certainty about God, this is a sure sign that the person is no longer speaking about God, but an idol that they’ve propped up as God. We can speak with unequivocal certainty about things our minds can grasp, but God is not one of those things. God grasps us; we do not grasp God.

In this passage from John’s Gospel, Jesus says to his demanding inquirers that he has already told them plainly what they need to know. The trouble is that the way Jesus has told them is through his works. In other words, it seems that Jesus’ role and identity cannot be reduced to a title; instead, his role and identity must be experienced. This becomes clear in the analogy of the sheep and shepherd. The sheep know and trust the shepherd, not because they have gone through any sort of rational, intellectual discernment, but because they have experienced the shepherd and his “works.” In the same way, a child knows and trusts their mother because of experience, not reason, and it is not an accident that Jesus elsewhere says, “whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.”

Often times being plainspoken allows us to drop our curiosities, questions, and wonderings about God, the world, even relationships, causing us to settle or even give up.

The Jesuit priest Anthony DeMello told a parable he entitled “The Explorer,” which illustrates exactly what I’m talking about. In it, a person leaves his home village to explore the faraway and exotic Amazon. When he returns to his village, the villagers are captivated as the explorer tries to describe his many experiences, along with the incredible beauty of the place, its thundering waterfalls, beautiful foliage, and extraordinary wildlife. How can he put into words, though, the feelings that flooded his heart when he heard the night sounds of the forest or sensed the dangers of the rapids? So he tells them they simply must go to the Amazon themselves. To help them with their journey, the explorer draws a map. Immediately the villagers pounce on the map. They copy it, so that everyone can have their own copy. They frame the map at their town hall and in their homes. Regularly they study the map and discuss it often, until the villagers consider themselves experts on the Amazon—for do they not know the location of every waterfall and rapids, every turn and bend?

We may call Jesus, Christ, Messiah, Light of the World, and what Jesus is saying in this passage is, “Follow me, I am the Good Shepherd, I will not lead you astray.” Jesus doesn’t want map makers, but followers who want to experience and view the world as he does. 

And we know the voice of our shepherd. We hear him when we read Scripture together or by ourselves devotionally. We hear the shepherd in those moments when we’re so exhausted to pray and Jesus simply says to us “Come to me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” We experience the voice of our shepherd when we are a good and loving neighbor to all we encounter. We follow our shepherd when we serve one another, show kindness to those who are having a rough day, week, year, and when we desire to produce the fruits of the Spirit. 

Jesus continues in a beautiful way in this passage saying, “No one will snatch them out of my hand. What my Father has given me is greater than all else, and no one can snatch it out of the Father’s hand. The Father and I are one.”

We are in the hands of our Almighty God and everything is going to be all right. We are reminded and should be reminded every Sunday that our Loving Savior has his faithful hands around us, we’re not in the hands of death, we’re not held by leaders, political, religious, or otherwise. We are securely located in God’s hands, where we can never be snatched. Take comfort in that. 

We might be bold to ask then: 

What might it mean for us to live out of that confidence and trust, and so become the hands of Christ in the world? 

Whom are we willing to hold on to, as we are in the hands of Christ? 

Whom are we to hold?

Jesus ends this passage with “The Father and I are one.”

In her commentary on the Gospel of John in The New Interpreter’s Bible, Gail O’Day says, “The Greek word ‘one’ … is neuter not masculine, so that Jesus is not saying that he and the Father are one person, nor even of one nature or essence. Rather, John is saying that Jesus and God are united in the work that they do. It is impossible to distinguish Jesus’ work from God’s work, because Jesus shares fully in God’s work.”

As flawed as we may be, with our stress of everyday life, with work, school, and family obligations, let us never forget that our shepherd leads us and holds us. We know our shepherd’s voice because we’ve been practicing hearing his voice in Scripture, in prayer, and in the encouraging words of others. And we show others that we know our shepherd by our love, by our love. Let it be so. Amen.

John 21:1-19

After these things Jesus showed himself again to the disciples by the Sea of Tiberias; and he showed himself in this way. Gathered there together were Simon Peter, Thomas called the Twin, Nathanael of Cana in Galilee, the sons of Zebedee, and two others of his disciples. Simon Peter said to them, “I am going fishing.” They said to him, “We will go with you.” They went out and got into the boat, but that night they caught nothing.

Just after daybreak, Jesus stood on the beach; but the disciples did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to them, “Children, you have no fish, have you?” They answered him, “No.” He said to them, “Cast the net to the right side of the boat, and you will find some.” So they cast it, and now they were not able to haul it in because there were so many fish. That disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, “It is the Lord!” When Simon Peter heard that it was the Lord, he put on some clothes, for he was naked, and jumped into the sea. But the other disciples came in the boat, dragging the net full of fish, for they were not far from the land, only about a hundred yards off.

When they had gone ashore, they saw a charcoal fire there, with fish on it, and bread. Jesus said to them, “Bring some of the fish that you have just caught.” So Simon Peter went aboard and hauled the net ashore, full of large fish, a hundred fifty-three of them; and though there were so many, the net was not torn. Jesus said to them, “Come and have breakfast.” Now none of the disciples dared to ask him, “Who are you?” because they knew it was the Lord. Jesus came and took the bread and gave it to them, and did the same with the fish. This was now the third time that Jesus appeared to the disciples after he was raised from the dead.

When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my lambs.” A second time he said to him, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Tend my sheep.” He said to him the third time, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” Peter felt hurt because he said to him the third time, “Do you love me?” And he said to him, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my sheep. Very truly, I tell you, when you were younger, you used to fasten your own belt and to go wherever you wished. But when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will fasten a belt around you and take you where you do not wish to go.” (He said this to indicate the kind of death by which he would glorify God.) After this he said to him, “Follow me.”

Please pray with me: O Lord who cooks for us, fill our spirits this morning with a rich understanding of your Word. With napkins on our laps and forks in hand, we expect abundance. Meet us here, O Lord. In Christ’s name I pray, Amen.

For more than half of the history of Christianity, allegory was the main interpretive key for reading Scripture. Allegory in Greek means “veiled language” and it’s a way to see hidden messages in a story. For centuries theologians believed that since the Bible was inspired by God that you couldn’t read it literally, as if you would any other book. But instead, the Bible had a deeper spiritual meaning that is right there on the page.

Our passage today, John 21, is one of those chapters that these allegorical interpreters loved to read. There are a few numbers in our passage such as a catch of 153 fish and Jesus asks the same question to Peter three times. There are the same words like love, when Jesus asks Peter if he loves him, and Jesus toggles between Greek words for love agape and philo. And there’s some drama, Peter is naked and gets dressed to swim to Jesus, some of the disciples are named, but not everyone.

Sometimes allegory can be good for interpretation. For most of us, it’s how we read parables, although not many of them are. And usually, allegory is the safest way to read. It’s easy to equate the disciples fishing in this passage as fishing for people, as in making disciples. And it’s simple enough to understand Peter being asked three times if he loved Jesus, as a kind of reconciliation after Peter denied Jesus three times. I mean both were done by charcoal fires.

And John’s Gospel is the easiest Gospel to allegorize. There are more commentaries on John in the ancient world than any other Gospel.

What’s difficult are the things that swerve around allegory. I’m thinking of the catch of 153 fish. Maybe if it was 143, which was Mister Rogers number for “I love you” it would perhaps make sense to our modern ears, but 153 had even the ancient world clamoring for reasonable interpretations. Augustine goes on a tangent about the 153. It takes him two long paragraphs to write it all out.

He writes, “Accordingly, when to the number of ten, representing the law, we add the Holy Spirit as represented by seven, we have seventeen; and when this number is used for the adding together of every several number it contains, from 1 up to itself, the sum amounts to one hundred and fifty-three. For if you add 2 to 1, you have 3 of course; if to these you add 3 and 4, the whole makes 10;” … and then he writes out the rest of this long math and ends with, “and it will make up the number of fishes.”

For Augustine the catch of 153 fish meant the law and Spirit. We’ll hear in a little bit another interpretation of the 153 by Jerome.

So let’s get into our passage.

Last week we read the second half of John 20, where Jesus appears to the disciples without Thomas, then the disciples with Thomas, and then our passage concluded with, “Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.”

And this was probably how the original version of John’s Gospel ended. Today we hear what biblical scholars call the epilogue, John 21.

In short, this epilogue is a dramatic appeal to us not to reduce Christ and the wonders of his ministry to a story in the past, not to leave the gospel in a time and place long ago and far away. The epilogue returns us to the vigor of the prologue, to the resilience and vitality of God’s word. The epilogue affirms, through its story of the risen Christ on the shore of the Sea of Tiberias, what the prologue affirms as the story of Christ’s earthly ministry begins: “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it” (1:5).

Last week, we were in Jerusalem hidden in a room and today we are in fishing boats and around a campfire by the Sea of Galilee. It’s quite the contrast from being hidden away in fear to being out publicly fishing.

Peter takes the lead in our passage by telling the others that he is going fishing and the others follow suit. They’re night fishing, participating in the vocation they had before they met Jesus. And now that Jesus isn’t around all the time, they went back to what they knew.

But they didn’t catch anything all night. Dawn breaks and Jesus is there on the beach asking them if they caught anything and then instructs them to place their nets on the other side of the boat.

If you’re thinking that this part of the story sounds familiar, you’re right. In Luke 5, part of Peter’s call story is that Jesus tells him and his crew to throw their nets deeper into the water to catch fish.

In both cases, the crews bring in a massive number of fish. But in John’s Gospel, it was only after they had caught the fish that the disciple whom Jesus loved recognized that it was Jesus on the shore. Like in the story of the walk to Emmaus how Jesus had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread. We hear now it’s how Jesus is known to them in the abundant catch of fish.

Although it was the disciple whom Jesus loved who recognized their Savior on the beach, it was Peter who swam to him.

In our next scene, all of the disciples are on the beach. Jesus is cooking a breakfast of fish and bread. And Jesus asks for more fish. Peter goes to get the fish and there are 153 total.

The ancient theologian Jerome reported that, according to ancient views, there were 153 kinds of fish. And he interpreted this number to represent all the people of the world that the net of the church encompasses, without having its unity broken.

To me that seems a bit smarter than using numerology for the law and spirit. But in any case, it was a lot of fish that Jesus helped them catch.

And while they were all eating breakfast, everyone recognized that they are with the Lord. It’s a moment of communion. It was the act of sharing meals which defined Jesus’ ministry and it’s here where the rest of the disciples recognize that Jesus was in their midst.

And then after breakfast, we eavesdrop into a conversation between Jesus and Peter.

Three times, Peter denied Jesus. And three times, Jesus now asks him to profess his love. The way Peter answers is almost unbearably touching: “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you” — but of course Peter is shamefully aware that what Jesus “knows” is that Peter is foolish and weak, a denier and deserter (John 21:15). And this knowledge makes all the more striking Jesus’ crisp and clear directive: “Feed my sheep” (John 21:17). If you love me, make that love tangible: go and care for those I love.

There is something so beautiful about this entire passage. And I think it’s something that cannot be allegorized, it’s that Jesus pursues the disciples and before Jesus ascends, he makes sure that things are good with Peter.

The risen Jesus follows them, from Jerusalem to Galilee.

I can imagine Jesus saying something like this around the charcoal fire, “I knew I’d find you here, back to your old habits, empty hopes and empty nets. You’re worried you’ve let me down, that you’ve been disqualified — but on the contrary, you’re the ones I’ve chosen. Do you really think I didn’t know your weaknesses when I called you? I knew you better than you knew yourselves, and I called you and taught you and sent you, and now I send you again. Stop thinking in terms of limitations, of what you can’t do! I came that you might have life, and have it abundantly — so think in terms of abundance, of opportunities, of what you can do (John 10:10). Look at all these fish, for goodness’ sake, filling the net to overflowing! Take courage, and go!”

Our Risen Lord still pursues and encourages us.

Let us be like Peter and rush to places where we see sites of resurrection.

Let our spirits and bellies be full of communion, especially around open fires.

And may we be the church who speaks of abundance and not kick ourselves for what we lack, there are already too many people who try to do that to us. Take courage and be at peace, Amen.

John 20:19-31

When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.”

But Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord.” But he said to them, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.”

A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.” Thomas answered him, “My Lord and my God!” Jesus said to him, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.”

Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.

Please pray with me: O God of the faithful and those who struggle with faith, like Thomas we demand to see your scars and what you’re up to in the world. Remind us, show us, and be near to us this morning. We’re listening to hear and see a word from you. In the name of the Holy Scarred One we pray, Amen.

There are different ways to keep house. There are those of us, who want everything in its place and cannot fall asleep until we have an empty sink and nothing on the kitchen table. There are others who don’t mind a little mess here or there. We’ll get to it when we get to it. We may fall asleep with dishes dirty in the sink, but we know that we’ll get to them tomorrow. Others of us, though, make sure that what needs to be clean is cleaned, but otherwise, the clutter doesn’t bother us. It’s not even clutter to us, it’s part of the house. 

It may seem strange, but the analogy of keeping house, with a few caveats, is how I think about discipleship and faith. 

For those who are disciplined in their upkeep are like those who have a rhythm of prayer, who want to learn more about faith and enjoy reading or having faith-filled conversations or even taking deep dives on Wikipedia or YouTube eager to learn more. They were taught one way of faith in Sunday School, but have been able to grow into an adult faith, which is open to curiosity and wonder. 

For those who don’t mind a mess seem to be working in an essential only kind of faith. They’ll pray when something comes up, they’ll read Scripture when they’re stressed, and they’ll still be active in the church. They were taught things in Sunday School that they still hold onto, and after some conversations and experiences with the Holy, they have come into a faith that is mostly their own.

Then for those who cannot see the mess, their faith has been stunted. They’ve had one faith experience that has changed them forever and cannot live in the present. They possibly haven’t had the resources, people, or time to reflect on their faith. Most of these people tend to be black and white thinkers who have not experienced enough of the gray in life. Often these are the people who I have encountered in the past who tell me, “This is not what my mother taught me about God and the Bible.”

Let’s take a moment to quietly think about these different ways of discipleship. 

If I were to place Thomas in one of these camps, it would be the first one. Of course, Thomas uses perhaps too forceful of a language to describe how he wants to put his fingers into Jesus’ scars, but he wants to see the Risen Lord. He wants to experience Jesus and seems to be full of wonder. 

Let’s get into our passage: 

It’s the evening of “the first day of the week,” a day of new beginnings, and Mary Magdalene had just declared to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord!” (John 20:18). But as night falls, the disciples cower nevertheless, holed up in a locked house for fear of the religious authorities. 

Somehow unhindered by these closed doors, Jesus arrives and stands among them, saying, “Peace be with you.” It’s an astonishing greeting — these are the same supposed friends who denied and deserted him just a few days ago, when it mattered most.

Jesus immediately shows them his scarred hands and side. Reminding them and us that there is no resurrection without crucifixion. The disciples rejoice and Jesus breathes on them the Holy Spirit, giving them authority to forgive or retain sins.

This first part of our passage is replete with Hebrew Bible allusion. Jesus “breathes” on them and says, “Receive the Holy Spirit.” The verb for “breathe” (emphysaō) is not common. In the Septuagint, the Greek translation of the Hebrew Bible, it occurs only in two places: Genesis 2:7 and Ezekiel 37:9. Jesus, by breathing on them, “animates” the dust-bound, fear-slain, boney-faithed disciples with the life-giving and creative Spirit.

Then our scene cuts, we don’t know where Jesus is during the week or if the disciples stayed hidden away. Or really even the whereabouts of Thomas on that first Easter Sunday.

Our Scripture then moves us to the week after, which would be historically today, which is also the reason that every Sunday after Easter uses this same passage. And it’s usually a Sunday that pastors like to give other preachers a chance because they’ve preached on this passage a few times.

So, we’re in the next week, John reminds us that Thomas was not present when Jesus appeared the first time, which also means that Thomas did not receive the Holy Spirit which Jesus breathed onto the 10. 

But now Thomas is there and the disciples use the same phrasing that Mary Magdalene said when she told them the Good News, “I have seen the Lord,” and the disciples make it plural to “We have seen the Lord.”

Thomas replies, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.”

The Greek word here for “put” is much stronger and intense than it reads. This word, “balo” should be more read not as a gentle touch as those Italian renaissance painters want us to believe, but more like “stick my finger in there and move it around.” 

And this is basically how Thomas has been depicted throughout John’s Gospel. He is singled out more than any other disciple. 

When Jesus said to the disciples that they should go see the sickly and almost dead Lazarus in chapter 11, Thomas speaks up with a strange misunderstanding: “Let us also go, that we may die with him.”

And again, in Chapter 14, after Jesus says that he is going to go prepare a place for them. Thomas blurts out, “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?” And Jesus responds with, “I am the way, the truth, and the life.”

It makes sense then that Thomas would say something as ridiculous as this. Thomas is The Gospel of John’s foil, the person who makes you want to facepalm. 

But honestly, Thomas’ doubt doesn’t seem that odd. 

Last week, on Easter, we heard that Peter did not believe the women preachers, had to run to the tomb himself, and went back home, not quite fully believing.

The same happens in John’s Gospel, when the Beloved disciple “saw and believed” after he went into the empty tomb, but did not understand.

Mary saw and believed the Risen Lord, only after he revealed himself to her. 

The disciples saw and rejoiced only after Jesus showed them his hands and side. 

My question is: Why then are we pointing out Thomas as a doubter, when everyone else needed to see the Risen Christ before they believed?

I think it might be because Thomas was too honest. He shared aloud what no one else could. Thomas’ strong remark about wanting to touch the Resurrected Jesus sounds odd, but also resonates in a deeper way.

Thomas wanted to not just see and believe, but wanted to interact, to feel, to go beyond the realm of sight and to encounter the truth. 

When Jesus enters the house again that second week, the first thing he says to Thomas is “Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.”

And I don’t know if you noticed, but Thomas doesn’t. He doesn’t touch the scars or stick his finger inside into his side. Instead, he confesses, “My Lord and My God.” 

And then Jesus breaks the fourth wall declaring to us: “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.”

We believe and have not seen the Risen Christ. 

Doubting Thomas? More like Seeing-Is-Believing Thomas — and Jesus calls him, and all the disciples, to step out beyond a faith that depends too much on “signs and wonders,” to grow beyond a “seeing-is-believing” form of Christian life.

So how’s your discipleship? Your walk with God? Are you ready to clean the dirty dishes of your faith? Or dust the room of your heart that you haven’t stepped into since you were a child? 

May we have a faith that is growing in God and not stale and moth-eaten.

May we ask challenging questions like Thomas. It’s not going to destroy our faith. God can handle it.

And as we were reminded at the beginning of the service at the baptismal font, you are a beloved child of God. Take risks. Come alive. God and our church will be right beside you. Amen.

Luke 24:1-12

But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they came to the tomb, taking the spices that they had prepared. They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, but when they went in, they did not find the body. While they were perplexed about this, suddenly two men in dazzling clothes stood beside them. The women were terrified and bowed their faces to the ground, but the men said to them, “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen. Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day rise again.” Then they remembered his words, and returning from the tomb, they told all this to the eleven and to all the rest. Now it was Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women with them who told this to the apostles. But these words seemed to them an idle tale, and they did not believe them. But Peter got up and ran to the tomb; stooping and looking in, he saw the linen cloths by themselves; then he went home, amazed at what had happened.

Please Pray with me: O God of the Resurrection, we have gathered together to celebrate new life! We have gathered to hear a fresh word from you. Don’t let us down. We pray this in Christ’s name, Amen!

Christ is Risen!

He is Risen, Indeed!

We have made it to Easter Sunday!

Holy Week concludes with the resurrection.

Just a quick recap of this last week: On Maundy Thursday, we remembered the last supper, a meal that Jesus and his friends and followers shared together. At that meal Jesus said that someone was going to betray him and another would deny him. He also gave the words of institution when remembering his death and these are the words that I’ll say at Communion. Then on Good Friday or as our Christian friends in the Nordic countries call it Long Friday, we recalled Jesus’ horrific death on a Roman cross and remembered his last seven words. Last night, we gathered together by candlelight to keep vigil for Jesus’ resurrection. We remembered that it’s okay to feel grieve and not know what is next. And now we’ve made it to Easter Sunday!

This morning we heard the account of the resurrection from Luke. There’s an empty tomb, men in dazzling clothes, women preaching of resurrection to the apostles, men not believing them, and then Peter having to go check it out himself. And you should notice that there is an absence of Jesus. We’ll see him again next week at Doubting Thomas Sunday.

But until then, let’s get into our passage!

Having rested on the sabbath, the women arrive to embalm Jesus’ body the next day, “the first day of the week,” a poetic turn suggesting a new beginning. Tombs typically were sealed with a large, disc-shaped stone, and this one, the early light reveals, has been inexplicably rolled aside. The corpse is nowhere to be found, and instead two angelic figures in “dazzling clothes” — reminiscent of the Transfiguration (Luke 9:28-31) — appear beside the women: Why do you look for the living among the dead?

The women show no sign of expecting the resurrection; Jesus has spoken of it before, but like the male disciples, they either don’t remember or don’t understand. The angelic figures remind them this way: “Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day rise again.”

That Greek term for “remember” — mimnesko — means more than just mere recollection; it means something more like “to bring past actions to bear on the present, with new power and insight.”

The same underlying word appears in Mary’s Magnificat with reference to God helping Israel “in remembrance of God’s mercy,” and also in the crucified thief’s plea, “Jesus, remember me” (Luke 1:54; 23:42). It’s a tangible, consequential kind of recalling, a form of remembering that is at the same time a form of action — and for the women at the tomb, it carries the force of an epiphany and a commission: “Then they remembered his words, and returning from the tomb, they told all this to the eleven and to all the rest” (Luke 24:8-9).

The men receive the women’s proclamation as “an idle tale” — or, as another translation has it, as “nonsense” (Luke 24:11). They don’t believe.

Here Luke deploys the same term — apisteo — he uses later in Acts for those who “refuse to believe” Paul’s preaching (Acts 28:24). The irony here is intense: this is the first post-Easter Christian sermon, proclaimed by Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women who were with them — and the men, the supposed “apostles,” refuse to believe it.

They refuse to believe with such force that Peter rushes away and runs to the tomb to make sure that they were not lying. Of course, it’s always good to remind ourselves that the first people to proclaim the resurrection were women.

And maybe I misspoke earlier when I said that Easter marks the end of Holy Week, it’s more like this is a new beginning — since a mystery as fathomless as Easter can only begin on a single day, beckoning us to enter into its depths and riches for the fifty-day season to follow, and beyond.

In this way, the reading makes clear that Easter Sunday is not the end of Lent — it’s the beginning of Eastertide, and in a deeper sense, the beginning of Christian life. The trumpets and lilies signal not a final victory, then, but a commencement, a launch, a kickoff — a dawn of a new day.

And that “new day” still has shadows, and wounds, and struggles, and doubts. Indeed, if our first reaction to a report of resurrection is skepticism, we’re in good company. Jesus’ own disciples, the ones who arguably knew him best, initially refuse to believe. After seeing for himself that the tomb is empty, Peter is “amazed” — but not yet convinced (Luke 24:12). And as we’ll see in the weeks ahead, this kind of stance — amazed-and-not-necessarily-convinced — is what Easter faith looks like more often than not. For after all, there are at least two ways to miss a miracle: first, to dismiss it, to reject it too readily, as if astonishing things never happen; and second, to domesticate it, to accept it too readily, as if it isn’t astonishing at all.

The women, however, take their amazement another step forward: whether or not they’re completely convinced, they proclaim the mystery. They announce the good news. They are the first apostles: precisely where the men are “slow of heart,” precisely where Peter is silent, these women courageously preach.

Whenever I think about resurrection, I usually think about this Guatemalan Presbyterian poet Julia Esquivel who wrote a poem entitled “Threatened by Resurrection.” This may seem strange to us, that the message of Easter may be threatening. But the truth is that the resurrection of Jesus, and the dawning of the new with him, poses a threat to any who would rather continue living as if the cross were the end of the story. The women on their way to the tomb were planning to perform one last act of love for Jesus, and then would probably just return home to their former lives. Peter and the rest would eventually return to their boats, their nets, and their various occupations. But now the empty tomb opens new possibilities. Now there is no way back to the former life in Galilee. Even though Luke tells us that Peter simply went home after seeing the empty tomb, we will soon learn that this was not the end of it: Peter himself would eventually die on his own cross. The resurrection is a joyous event; but it also means that Jesus’ call for his disciples to take up their cross and follow him is still valid. The road to the old ways in Galilee is now barred. The resurrection of Jesus impels them forward to their own crosses, and indeed, we know that several of the disciples suffered violent death as the result of their following and proclaiming the Risen One.

When Esquivel wrote her poem, part of what she had in mind was that faithful discipleship in her native Guatemala was a very risky enterprise, that things would be much simpler and safer if one were not impelled by the resurrection to oppose injustice and all forms of evil. The full message of Easter is both a joy and a challenge. It is the announcement of unequaled and final victory, and the call to radical, dangerous, and even painful discipleship.

We hold today as a celebration and a call to discipleship. God has raised Jesus from the dead, we are alive in hope, alive in love. And we must act like it. May we continue to do so for the sake of the Gospel. Amen.

Luke 19:28-40

After he had said this, he went on ahead, going up to Jerusalem.

When he had come near Bethphage and Bethany, at the place called the Mount of Olives, he sent two of the disciples, saying, “Go into the village ahead of you, and as you enter it you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden. Untie it and bring it here. If anyone asks you, ‘Why are you untying it?’ just say this, ‘The Lord needs it.’ ” So those who were sent departed and found it as he had told them. As they were untying the colt, its owners asked them, “Why are you untying the colt?” They said, “The Lord needs it.” Then they brought it to Jesus; and after throwing their cloaks on the colt, they set Jesus on it. As he rode along, people kept spreading their cloaks on the road. As he was now approaching the path down from the Mount of Olives, the whole multitude of the disciples began to praise God joyfully with a loud voice for all the deeds of power that they had seen,

saying,

“Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!

Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!”

Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to him, “Teacher, order your disciples to stop.” He answered, “I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out.”

Please pray with me:  Lord Jesus, on this day you were welcomed in triumphant procession into Jerusalem. Give us the grace to welcome you into our lives, into our homes, and into our communities. Enable us to put our trust in you that we find, in you, the Lord of our lives. Amen.

We are ready.

We have our palms in hand.

We have been preparing for this week by reflecting and repenting during this Lenten season, taking a good spiritual inventory of our lives.

We are at least aware that there is a worship schedule for Holy Week.

And today we celebrate with Palm Sunday and by the end of the week we are somber at the crucifixion.

It’s a roller coaster of emotions in just one week.

This is all to say, that you should be easy on yourself this week, come when you can, and it’s okay to allow grief to overtake you. There are so many things to grieve and think about. Of the pandemic, wars, waves, and Jesus’ tortuous death.

I was reminded this week by Irish Poet, Padrig O’Tuama that in Irish when you talk about emotion, you don't say ‘I am sad'. You say, ‘Sadness is on me.’ And there’s an implication of not identifying yourself with the emotion fully. I am not sad, it's just that sadness is on me for a while. Something else will be on me another time, and that's a good thing. 

Find time to rest and remind yourself of God’s deep, deep love for you.

Let’s get into our Scripture passage.

The Palm Sunday Parade is found in all four Gospels. And each one is a little different. In Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus rides both a colt and a donkey (Matthew 21:7). Matthew and Mark have the crowds lay down cloaks and palms. In Matthew, Mark, and Luke, Jesus sends out two disciples to gather him a colt. In John’s Gospel, which goes off course, Jesus finds his own colt and only palms are waved.

This morning we heard Luke’s recollection of the Palm Sunday story. At our Tuesday evening Bible Study, we noticed a few things about our passage.

First, there are no palms or branches being laid down for Jesus, only cloaks.

Second, there are no crowds, but a multitude of disciples praising God.

Third, there is a callback to Jesus’ birth when the angels proclaimed, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom God favors!” to Palm Sunday’s “Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven.”

And lastly, the disciples exchange “Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord” to “Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the Lord.”

Our passage opens with Jesus and disciples in Bethany and Bethphage, which is two miles from Jerusalem.

Jesus gives two disciples instructions for what to do before they can enter Jerusalem, and the apparent ease with which the disciples carry them out, has often been explained away as merely showing that Jesus had already made the necessary arrangements. And this misses the point of the story, which is precisely to indicate that the events about to take place in Jerusalem are not the result of chance, but are part of a larger and mysterious plan.

Matthew’s Gospel reminds us that the colt is important to this story because the Prophet Zachariah proclaimed:

“Tell the daughter of Zion,

Look, your king is coming to you,

humble, and mounted on a donkey,

and on a colt, the foal of a donkey.”

This story is prophetic. As one commentator wrote, “On Palm Sunday we celebrate Jesus’ jubilant entry into Jerusalem, essentially a piece of street theater dramatizing Zechariah’s ancient prophecy: the long-awaited divine monarch arrives on a humble donkey, announcing “peace to the nations” (Zech 9:9-10). Shout hosanna! A new era has begun!”

And yet the disciples still do not understand. Despite all Jesus’ warnings to the contrary, they still expect him to come into his kingdom immediately, and they celebrate his arrival at Jerusalem as if this were the beginning of his enthronement. At this point of apparently impending victory, it is not just the inner circle of his followers but “the whole multitude of the disciples” that acclaim the new king now marching toward Jerusalem.

And yet this should be obvious, Jesus rides no high horse, just a lowly colt. He chooses to enter a deadly situation without force or protection. He gives himself freely and without reservation. This is a sign of God’s vulnerable love, which risks everything and promises to gain all. This is the means by which God creates peace.

These last few years, everything has felt so uncertain, unbalanced. Of course, we do our best to rely on God. We try to be consistent in attending church. Maybe we put our Bible on our nightstands and skim through it when we get a chance. Or maybe we create notifications on our devices to remind us to read our devotionals or to pray. But when everything feels like chaos it’s hard to focus on anything. Our energy and motivation are zapped and, if you’re like me, you just want to feel calm for at least a week.

It's interesting when thinking about the early disciples who seemed to get a lot of things wrong, including who they believed Jesus to be and that by the end of the week, many of them will abandon Jesus. And then three days later, a resurrected Jesus will reappear to them despite an incorrect belief system.

But what today reminds us to do is to celebrate Jesus. That our faith is deeply rooted in exuberant joy! And also that Jesus is our peace. He leads us in the way of vulnerability. Peace does not come from certainty or having the upper hand, but by Spirit compelling us to let go.

Finally, the last two verses of our passage are peculiar to Luke’s account. This is where we hear the objection by some Pharisees to the activity of the disciples (v. 39). We cannot, of course, know in what tone of voice or with what motivation the Pharisees asked Jesus to rebuke his disciples.

But whatever their problem with the activity, Jesus simply responds in a vivid image to affirm the rightness and appropriateness of his disciples’ praise. “If these were silent, the very stones would cry out” (v. 40). In other words, some things simply must be said; the disciples are expressing what is ultimately and finally true; God will provide a witness though every mouth be stopped; and the truth will come out, it cannot long be silenced. That stones would shout is, of course, a figure of speech, but the expression does remind us that in biblical understanding, that creation is involved in events that we tend to think affect humans alone.

All this dramatic language reminds us of that which we sometimes forget: all life is from God, the whole universe shares together bane and blessing, life, and death, and in the final reign of God “that creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and obtain the glorious liberty of the children of God” (Rom. 8:21). Of course, if we are silent, the stones will cry out.

And so today we are ready.

We shout Hosanna without any help from Luke.

Unlike the early disciples, we get it, or at least are trying to get it. That Jesus is the Savior of the universe and not trying to replace any earthly king.

May exuberant joy be at the heart of your faith, now and always. Amen.

John 12:1-8

Six days before the Passover Jesus came to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. There they gave a dinner for him. Martha served, and Lazarus was one of those at the table with him. Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus’ feet, and wiped them with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume. But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (the one who was about to betray him), said, “Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?” (He said this not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief; he kept the common purse and used to steal what was put into it.) Jesus said, “Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial. You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.”

Please pray with me: O God who has poured out an abundance of love for us, we are grateful for your Word. May we rest in your Spirit this morning. Encourage us and embolden our lives. We pray this in the precious name of Christ, Amen.

Like Mary pouring costly perfume on Jesus’ feet, I spent the last week feeling an outpouring of love at the CREDO Conference in Richmond, VA. There were 25 other recently ordained pastors who I had the pleasure of spending the week with on a beautiful campus. Each day we had morning and evening chapel, where I didn’t have to lead anything. We heard lectures on spirituality, finances, emotional and physical wellbeing, and vocation.

This program started for recently ordained pastors in 2016 when they realized that pastors in their first five years of ministry were getting burnt out because they didn’t have the resources to be their whole selves. Since then, there has been a much higher retention rate for new pastors staying in the ministry. We ended our time by each of us writing a rule of life. It will keep me in check when things seem to go off course.

What I loved about my time in Richmond was that I was surrounded by other pastors who have had similar experiences, a faculty who cared for each of us, and a walking group who met every morning at 6:30.

I feel refreshed and coming away feeling grateful to be your pastor.

We are one week away from Palm Sunday, when Jesus makes his triumphant entry into Jerusalem. A week before Holy Week, of the last supper, the trails, torture, Jesus’ crucifixion, and two weeks from the resurrection of our Lord on Easter Sunday.

This week, though, we find Jesus sharing in a meal at the home of Mary, Martha, and the recently risen from the dead Lazarus. Just as Jesus withstood the temptations of the devil for forty days to prepare himself for ministry, this time with his dear friends and followers he prepared himself with friendship and food to undergo a most difficult week.

In our passage, Mary embodies both open-handedness and discerning wisdom, lavishing Jesus with precious perfume, effectively anointing his body, as Jesus puts it, “for the day of my burial.” She sees what the disciples either miss or refuse to see: that Jesus, even as he prepares for his triumphant entry into Jerusalem, is also preparing for his death.

Mary serves as a model for Christian discipleship. At the beginning of John’s Gospel, John the Baptizer witnesses to Jesus as the Christ when he announces, “Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.… And I myself have seen and have testified that this is the Son of God” (1:29, 34). Unlike John, Mary utters not a word, but her extravagant act, the use of costly fragrance to anoint Jesus’ feet, is no less a faithful witness to the even more costly and extravagant act that is about to occur. Jesus has already been anointed for his costly mission in his baptism by John, and now Mary anoints Jesus for his costly death with her pound of perfume. Like John, Mary is a witness and a disciple—not by what she says but by what she does.

And in contrast, Judas embodies a tight-fisted stance. Not only does he fail to recognize Mary’s wisdom, he accuses her of immoral excess: You should have used that money to help the poor!

But Jesus will have none of it, to paraphrase, he says: Leave her alone! She sees our situation better than you do: I am about to leave you; my death draws near. Will you not honor my body here in the shadow of death, as Mary has done? Even worse, will you dishonor her for doing so? And as for helping the poor, you can and should continually be generous — so why don’t you go ahead and do that yourself, Judas, rather than judging and demeaning Mary? You hypocrite: you make a show of being “open-handed,” but in truth your fist is closed, the most tightly closed of all…

We hear in this passage also that John editorially adds that Judas criticizes Mary “not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief,” skimming off the top of the communal purse — and so would have profited if the money had instead been given to Jesus. Thus for John, Judas embodies the perfect opposite of Mary’s open-handed generosity: tight-fisted, judgmental greed.

The good news of the Gospel this week is that God calls us toward this personal and communal vision of a generous, wisely structured world — and at the same time blesses each of us with the wisdom and discernment to follow Mary’s example, opening our hands in ways that honor one another in love and grace.

Found in the next chapter of John, chapter 13, we will hear another story that takes place around a table, which we will remember on Maundy Thursday. Jesus will wrap a towel around his waist and one by one will wash the disciples’ feet. Today’s passage, as many commentaries mentioned, foreshadows that moment.

Christian discipleship is about being humble and having our hands open.

We are called to have open hands when it comes to caring for those in need.

Open hands to give high fives in celebration and joy.

Open hands for handshakes with new friends.

Open hands for hugs, especially for the lonely.

Open hands and humility for understanding where others are coming from.

We do not have time for closed handed fists, especially at church.

For judgment, pride, greed, and ignorance.

In the figure of Mary, Christian discipleship is an act of adoration of and gratitude to the one who alone is holy. In her silence, Mary draws our attention not to herself but to the one she anoints. In John’s Gospel, Mary is not simply the righteous elect and Judas the unrighteous betrayer. The grace of Jesus Christ includes them both, both the faithful and the unfaithful. Both are included within the bright, transforming light the cross casts in a dark world.

In a moment we are going to share in Communion, another table which you are invited to. With open hands we will receive the body of Christ and the cup of salvation.

When I attended Broad Street Ministry, there was this saying before taking Communion, “God’s grace is bigger than you can imagine, so take a larger piece of bread than you think you deserve.” I hope one day to include that in our practice of the sacrament.

But for now, I want to mention a continuation of the communion feast that will happen on Tuesday at 6pm. You are invited to join in a meal of hot roast beef sandwiches, salads, chips, and to stay for Hybrid Bible Study after. Our guests at Food for Hope have been informed and a few have said that they can make it and I would love it if we could extend our hand at hospitality.

We have been called forth and perhaps called out from our passage about Mary’s generosity, may we follow our Savior in similar humble and hand opening ways. Amen.

Luke 13:1-9

At that very time there were some present who told him about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices. He asked them, “Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way, they were worse sinners than all other Galileans? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did. Or those eighteen who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them—do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others living in Jerusalem? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did.”

Then he told this parable: “A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard; and he came looking for fruit on it and found none. So, he said to the gardener, ‘See here! For three years I have come looking for fruit on this fig tree, and still I find none. Cut it down! Why should it be wasting the soil?’ He replied, ‘Sir, let it alone for one more year, until I dig around it and put manure on it. If it bears fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down.’”

Please pray with me: O Gracious God, quiet our mind and hearts this morning so that we may be more attentive to you. In Christ’s name, I pray, Amen.

We have many wonderful things to celebrate this weekend. With other Presbyterian churches we celebrate and honor Fred Rogers, who was born today in 1928. We claim today as Mister Rogers Day. Today also marks the first day of Spring. We can start to shed off those heavy coats and enjoy the warmth for once and prepare ourselves for glorious summer. Also, just to remind you: Lent in Middle English means Spring. Then we celebrate tomorrow World Down Syndrome Day, a day to rejoice those born with Down Syndrome and to advocate with and for them. We are grateful that Bobby is part of our community.

Now quickly back to Mister Rogers.

Here are a few things you might not have known:

- He was an ordained pastor in the Presbyterian Church through the Presbytery of Pittsburgh. He could be considered the first televangelist.

- He composed and played nearly all the music for his show.

- He covered topics with children such as the Vietnam War, Divorce, Living with Disabilities, and Racial Inequalities, including an episode where he soaks his feet in the small plastic pool with Officer Clemmons, a Black police officer on the show, while many public swimming pools were still segregated.

Mister Rogers was known for listening to children, telling them that they are loved and capable of loving. He shared many times in song, “You are my friend, you are special. You are my friend; you are special to me. You are the only one like you. Like you my friend, I like you. In the daytime, in the nighttime, anytime that you feel is the right time for a friendship with me.”

In this exhausting life, it is nice to be reminded that everything is going to be okay. That we have friends who have our backs. And in emergencies and crisis to look for the helpers.

With this calm backdrop of Mister Rogers Day, we encounter a politically charged passage from the Gospel of Luke.

Last week, we read from the end of the thirteenth chapter and today we read from the beginning. To give some context, Jesus had just been sharing about interpreting the times. And our passage begins when Jesus is interrupted by some people telling the group that Pontius Pilate, who will later have Jesus crucified, had his army kill some Galileans who were making animal sacrifices in the Temple. A mixing or mingling of human and animal blood occurred on that sacrificial altar.

First off, Galileans, in the ancient world, were often not seen in a good light. We hear it throughout the Gospels and Acts. Nathanael in John’s Gospel asks “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Then on the day of Pentecost, it reads the crowd was “Amazed and astonished and asked, “Are not all these who are speaking Galileans?”

Galilee is in the north, in the mountains, away from large cities like Jerusalem. Galileans were seen as mountain people, hillbillies, nobodies. So there is this kind of political regionalism that seems to be going on here. Like how some people in cities stereotype those in Appalachia.

Some of the people wanted to hear how Jesus would respond to the killings of people born and raised in his same region. We assume if he was a political zealot, he might have responded with, “Let’s go kill the Romans!” Which he doesn’t. Instead, Jesus deflects the news to share a larger point. That these Galileans were no more sinful than anyone else. And he broadens his point to include another newsworthy story of a tower that fell and killed 18 individuals. Punctuating each of these stories with “unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did.”

This seems like a fitting verse for Lent. Jesus is calling us to repent, to change our minds, to be transformed by God. This is the same Greek word Jesus used to begin his ministry in Matthew and Mark, “Repent, metanoia, for the Kingdom of God is near.” But it’s interesting that in Luke, this is the first time we hear of Jesus talk about repentance. As you might remember, Jesus begins his ministry in his hometown synagogue preaching from Isaiah 61 about releasing captives and bringing good news to the poor. It’s not until the middle of his ministry in Luke’s Gospel that there’s a call to repentance. And Jesus’ connection of repentance to these deaths seems even more apt, as if time was running out to repent.

And that’s when he connects these news stories to this often not preached on parable of the fig tree. It goes like this: a man plants a fig tree in his vineyard. And three years later comes to check up on it. He sees that it has not borne any figs. He tells the gardener to cut it down. The gardener responds with “Sir, let it alone for one more year, until I dig around it and put manure on it. If it bears fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down.’”

As prepared as Clint usually is, he looked up before our Tuesday night study that it takes fig trees three or five years to produce any figs. Thank you, Clint.

It seems like the vineyard owner was being impatient and the gardener was in the right.

This parable reminds us that there is still time, God is not done with you.

Presiding Bishop Michael Curry of the Episcopal Church once heard the late Dr. Benjamin Elijah Mays, president of Morehouse College, say that “faith is taking your best step, and leaving the rest to God.” The missional side of our Gospel reading may be that those who would follow in the footsteps of Jesus are charged with witnessing to the world in the name and spirit of Jesus. The results of this witness are not ours to know. The working out of God’s Realm is not ours to figure out. Our task is to labor, without having all the answers, to acknowledge the deep mystery of it all. The task of our discipleship is to witness and then wait, to take our best step and leave the rest to God.

In the documentary, “Won’t you be my Neighbor?” Mister Rogers' wife, Joanne, shared this story about Fred on his deathbed.

She said, “When he was very ill, he talked a lot about dying well. To die with the hopes intact.

Before he became comatose, he said, "Do you think I'm a sheep?"

And we knew what he was talking about because he had been reading in the Bible about the last days and final judgment. It will be decided at the end who is a sheep and who is a goat. And I think for Fred the need was always there for being loved, for being capable of being loved. There was a... A little silence, and then I said, “Fred, if ever there was a sheep, you’re one.”

If there was ever a more inviting parable, it is the one we heard today. There is still time, God is never done with you. It’s interesting to think of Mister Rogers who spent his entire life telling children that they are loved and capable loving that he would at the end of his life look back and wonder if he did it right.

We are invited to keep on growing, to keep bearing fruit, to be fertilized and to suck up all the nutrition from the soil. Let us bear good fruit for the sake of Jesus, our loving gardener, Amen.

Luke 13:31-35

At that very hour some Pharisees came and said to him, “Get away from here, for Herod wants to kill you.” He said to them, “Go and tell that fox for me, ‘Listen, I am casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow, and on the third day I finish my work. Yet today, tomorrow, and the next day I must be on my way, because it is impossible for a prophet to be killed outside of Jerusalem.’ Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing! See, your house is left to you. And I tell you, you will not see me until the time comes when you say, ‘Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.’ ”

Please pray with me: O Lord, we pray for you to open the ears of our hearts that we may hold and understand what you have for us this morning. Sit with us. Be with us. In the name of Jesus I pray, Amen.

For Year C in the Lectionary, we bounce around Jesus’ ministry in Luke’s Gospel. Last week, we heard the temptation narrative, which happened even before Jesus’ ministry. For those forty days in the desert, Jesus fasted and focused on God while the devil tried to make him stumble.

Today’s scripture is set in the middle of Jesus’ ministry. After the Transfiguration in chapter 9, which we heard two weeks ago, Jesus descends the mountain, heals a demon possessed child, and teaches about greatness. And then there’s this pivotal verse, Luke 9:51 “When the days drew near for him to be taken up, he set his face to go to Jerusalem.”

We are in the middle of this journey. Jesus has set his face to go to Jerusalem, but the triumphal entry will not happen for another ten chapters. Although we hear lots of talk about Jerusalem today, he actually doesn’t enter the city gates until then.

Jesus today gives both a warning and a lament in only five verses.

Let’s see and hear what’s going on:

The Pharisees intentionally had gone to Jesus to tell him not to continue his journey to Jerusalem because Herod wants to kill him.

Let’s pause right there.

While many of us have caricatured notions of what Pharisees are like. For example, I grew up singing the song, “I just wanna to be a sheep,” which has the verse, 

“I don’t want to be a Pharisee

I don’t want to be a Pharisee

Cause they’re not fair you see.

I don’t want to be a Pharisee.”

And with this idea of unfair Pharisees sitting in the back of my mind and then to encounter this verse it seems odd to find ‘some Pharisees’ who would be sympathetic enough to Jesus to bring him this warning.

Does our passage then suggest that our view of Pharisees is simplistic and that their responses to Jesus were more complex than we imagined?

Nicodemus, for example, was a Pharisee and a disciple. Paul himself acknowledged near the close of his ministry, not “I was a Pharisee” but “I am a Pharisee” (Acts 23:6).

Or, is this question not as innocent as it looks? Whether Pharisees are more complex than we give them credit for. Jesus’ answer seems to turn the tide and make them messengers to Herod – were they functioning as so?

I will say that when we only see others as one-dimensional or that we can judge them outrightly before listening to them, it’s never a good idea. The Pharisees were a large and complex group of people who could act hypocritical, (who hasn’t?) and outside of the disciples some of his greatest followers were Pharisees.

Jesus responds to their sympathy with a warning for them to take back to Herod. Jesus describes his ministry as casting out demons and performing cures, but that he’s not always going to do this because he will complete his work on the third day, hinting to the resurrection. I love the line “Yet today, tomorrow, and the next day I must be on my way.” It’s this slap in the face for Herod. Like you’re not going to kill me, I am going to continue my work.

Jesus then moves onto his lament about Jerusalem. He references the prophets who they have killed. He speaks with disappointment and utter heartbreak at the refusal of his own people to hear and heed the summons of God to draw near, to gather, and to come home.

He goes on to say, “How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!”

The image of Jesus caring for the children of Jerusalem as a mother hen takes care of her brood gives particular significance to his calling Herod a fox. A hen guards her chicks against foxes. Jesus wants to protect the children of Jerusalem not only from what we would consider spiritual or religious ills, but also from the exploitation of those who lord it over them. There is no doubt that in this passage Jesus bemoans the disobedience of Jerusalem. But we should draw the conclusion that Jesus bemoans also the disobedience of the Church and its members. Us too Jesus wishes to protect like a mother hen—and to protect against all evil, spiritual as well as political.

If Luke’s focal point for Jesus’ saving mission is the resurrection, the overall tone and theme for that mission is a fierce, tender mercy.

Think of it: though humanity will reject and kill him, Jesus nevertheless pictures us not as jackals but as vulnerable chicks he longs to gather, “as a hen gathers her brood under her wings” (Luke 13:34). Like a loving mother bird, Jesus desires to shield and save her children from the powers of death and desecration. She longs to spread out her arms, her great wings sheltering all creation, all that God has made. Keep this merciful, outstretched posture in mind — and you’ll never see the cross the same way again!

If you can believe it, it was nearly two years ago when the sanctuary doors were shuttered. The world shut down for the novel coronavirus. So much confusion and learning happened, whether we liked it or not, of new normals. We’ve learned so much about ourselves and each other. What do we care about? Who do we want to protect or not protect?

And where and how do we understand God in all of this?

We are holding onto so much grief and continue to hear of so much suffering that the image of Jesus as a Mother Hen right now is a beautiful sight for our sore and tired eyes. I know we are all praying for an end to this pandemic, which I pay close attention to the hospitalization numbers daily and things are looking really good, and we’re praying for an end to countries terrorizing other countries. And my prayer for you this week is to continue to feel comforted and loved and held by our merciful God and no matter how you’re feeling or if you want to throw something at the Almighty, that God can handle it and that you will be cared for, no matter what. May it be so. Amen.

Luke 9:28-43

Now about eight days after these sayings Jesus took with him Peter and John and James, and went up on the mountain to pray. And while he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly they saw two men, Moses and Elijah, talking to him. They appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem. Now Peter and his companions were weighed down with sleep; but since they had stayed awake, they saw his glory and the two men who stood with him. Just as they were leaving him, Peter said to Jesus, “Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah”—not knowing what he said. While he was saying this, a cloud came and overshadowed them; and they were terrified as they entered the cloud. Then from the cloud came a voice that said, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!” When the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone. And they kept silent and in those days told no one any of the things they had seen.

On the next day, when they had come down from the mountain, a great crowd met him. Just then a man from the crowd shouted, “Teacher, I beg you to look at my son; he is my only child. Suddenly a spirit seizes him, and all at once he shrieks. It convulses him until he foams at the mouth; it mauls him and will scarcely leave him. I begged your disciples to cast it out, but they could not.” Jesus answered, “You faithless and perverse generation, how much longer must I be with you and bear with you? Bring your son here.” While he was coming, the demon dashed him to the ground in convulsions. But Jesus rebuked the unclean spirit, healed the boy, and gave him back to his father. And all were astounded at the greatness of God.

Please pray with me: O Transfiguring God, we are grateful for the mountaintop moments when we feel close to you. We also know that you bless us when we are in the valley. Quiet our hearts this morning as we listen to you. In Christ’s name, I pray, Amen.

It’s strange to preach about Transfiguration, the glorification of Christ on top of a mountain surrounded by his closest disciples, while buildings are being bombed in Ukraine. And it’s odd to celebrate what seems to be the end of the pandemic while Ukrainians are forced to leave behind their homes to reach bomb shelters, safe houses, and nearby countries accepting refugees like Poland, Moldova, or Romania.

It's hard not to feel helpless and somewhat afraid, wondering what might happen here or wondering if another variant is brewing under the surface just to ruin our social lives again and take the lives of many more.

But here we are. Or here I am called to preach the Gospel every week, even if it seems impossible. Even if our hearts are too heavy and the only utterance we will remember is that God loves us, God is with those who suffer, and God’s vision found earlier in Luke’s Gospel in Mary’s Song, where the mighty will be cast down from their thrones. It could not come soon enough. Come, Lord Jesus, Come.

So let’s get into it:

We are in the last week of Epiphany. If you can believe it, Lent starts next week.

And today, which is the Transfiguration, is in many ways the mother of all epiphany stories (“epiphany” literally means “showing forth”), since it reveals Jesus as a prophet, and above all, as God’s beloved child.

In the verses right before our passage, Jesus articulates what is arguably his most difficult teaching of all: that he must suffer, die, and rise again — and that anyone who wishes to follow him must “deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow him” (Luke 9:23).

The Transfiguration’s beautiful light, then, acts as a reassurance and encouragement for Peter, John, and James and for the rest of us! It’s as if Luke is saying: We’re now making the turn toward the cross, and that means descending into the valley of the shadow of death. But fear not! Keep this astonishing, mysterious mountaintop vision in mind as we go. Carry it like a torch, for it can help show the way — not least by giving us a glimpse of where all this is headed.

The season of Epiphany began with the Baptism of Jesus and is bookended today with Transfiguration.

The Transfiguration is a callback to the Baptism of Jesus,

but slightly different.

The Baptism was a public event,

while the Transfiguration has three witnesses.

The Baptism has John the Baptizer, deemed as kind of Elijah the Prophet and the Transfiguration has Elijah and Moses.

In both God speaks, at the Baptism God is well pleased with Jesus, and at the Transfiguration, God says to listen to him.

These differences are mighty and speak to the power of the Transfiguration. God is not just well pleased with Christ, but now we should listen to what he has to say.

If you didn’t know, scaling mountains for spiritual experiences is scattered throughout the Hebrew Bible.

The Transfiguration moment is reminiscent of Moses climbing the mountain to receive the 10 Commandments. As well, Elijah was on a mountain to be by himself to wait for God’s Word, which came in a still small voice.

What makes the Transfiguration different from Moses and Elijah’s experiences is that they had their mountain top experiences alone. Christ brought others, knowing that we never go alone.

While on the mountain, Christ’s face changed and his clothes dazzled, sparkled, becoming brighter and brighter. And the disciples were in awe and terrified.

Peter in his sincerity wants to remember this moment.

He basically says “We have just witnessed something that no one on Earth has ever experienced. Moses and Elijah are here. Christ is glorified. I want to remember this moment. Let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah. I want to come back to this place when you’re gone.”

Immediately God interrupts in a cloud and says, “This is my Son, my Chosen One; listen to him!”  

Peter’s request is denied, and they head back down the mountain.

It’s because we cannot bask on the mountain for too long. Our spiritual lives are more like waves than a switch that can be turned on or off. We all have moments when we feel incredibly close to God, moments that we wish that could last longer.

When I lived at the Catholic Worker in Rochester, NY, which I shared a bit about last week, I decided to end that summer by walking on a trail that went from Rochester to a Monastery, which was 30 miles south. I wanted to end the summer on a spiritual high note. So I went on this pilgrimage with two other guys. We left at 2pm to start our journey. It was a beautiful time of silence, prayer, and sharing memories of the summer. My mountain top experience did not happen until we were exhausted around 5:50am. We found some boulders on the side of the path and took a quick break. We got up 5 minutes later and, trying to stay awake, we started to sing Precious Lord take my hand. By the time we reached the second verse, we could hear the bells from the monastery in the distance! We ended up running, blisters and all, through a cornfield to reach our destination. Our pilgrimage was complete! We hit those beds hard. We had to wake up at 9am though and head back to the Worker because we still had our soup kitchen shift. That day, a man with schizophrenia clobbered one of the guys I went on the pilgrimage with, and I saw a man huff paint.

Yet, isn’t that how mountain top experiences are supposed to be.  You can’t go back. It’s over and you are now changed. There’s no need to go back.

This seems to be why mountaintop moments do not happen over and over to a person.

They’re more like winds that push us towards a new way of being in the world. We cannot be the same after we’ve had them.

And like Jesus, Peter, James, and John we must go down the mountain. There is much work to be done in the valley. For Jesus, it was an exorcism that grounded him after the Transfiguration.

We are called to valleys of despair and hopelessness.

To the valleys where people are not well and need healing.

To the valley where Good News needs to be shared and lived out.

On the mountain, Jesus has been revealed as God’s Chosen, it’s now time to get to work in the valley. Pack up, let’s go. Amen.

Luke 6:27-38

“But I say to you that listen, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt. Give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again. Do to others as you would have them do to you.

“If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them. If you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners do the same. If you lend to those from whom you hope to receive, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners, to receive as much again. But love your enemies, do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return. Your reward will be great, and you will be children of the Most High; for he is kind to the ungrateful and the wicked. Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.

“Do not judge, and you will not be judged; do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven; give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap; for the measure you give will be the measure you get back.”

Please pray with me: O Merciful God, open your scriptures to us that we may follow you in the ways of righteousness and mercy. Encourage and transform us, I pray this in the name of Jesus, Amen.

There is not much about Jesus that is rational.

He calls us to love our enemies,

when we’re supposed to hate them.

He calls us to bless those who curse us,

when we should curse them right back.

He calls us to resist hitting those who strike at us first.

At least for me, this is not how I was raised. My dad taught me and my brother how to fight. That we should always stand up for ourselves. I was never much for fighting anyway. I always liked making others laugh, probably because I enjoy laughing so much. And maybe laughter is just so disarming to bullies that they can’t make fun of people who don’t take themselves too seriously.

And while Jesus might not be rational, it is still our calling.

So let’s get into our lesson.

Our passage contains two parts. The first, verses 27–31, lays down the general principle that Jesus’ followers do not reciprocate, do not retaliate, and do not draw their behavior patterns from those who would victimize them.

Then Jesus follows up with numerous examples of forms of mistreatment: hating, cursing, abusing, striking, stealing, and begging.

And there are two observations that seem rather clear: