Author: MASadmin

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.

John 20:19-31

My sermon from the 2nd Sunday of Easter (April 11, 2021) on John 20:19-31.

******

The Sunday after Easter is typically considered a “low” Sunday at the church. And, if you think about it, that makes sense. Our Easter celebration was full of fresh flowers, special music, fancy hats, and Easter baskets buried in way too many chocolate bunnies. It takes a lot of energy, work, and effort to make Easter joyous especially in the midst of a pandemic. The musicians, the choir, the office staff, the volunteers, and everyone who worshiped online or outdoors – we – whether we realized it or not – gave a lot of ourselves to help each other re-experience the gift of Easter. So it’s totally okay if we feel like we need to take a breath after such a big event. And our attention might be drawn towards other things happening in our life right now. Maybe we have a lot of cleaning to do since we spent the last year mostly at home. Or maybe there’s a giant pile of mulch sitting in our driveway begging us to spread it around the house. Those are a few of the things we get to do during the season of Spring. Yet there might be other things happening in our life making it hard to breathe. There’s that health scare, leaving us and our family feeling incredibly anxious and scared. There’s that ongoing conflict we’re enduring with our loved ones because change is something we all do. And then there’s the reality that we live in communities filled with people who don’t look at the world in the same way. When you add up all life brings and then throw in an ongoing pandemic, it’s sort of amazing any of us has the energy to sit with God. Worship takes effort – and there are times when life gets in the way. So a low Sunday is not an abnormal Sunday. Rather, it is a sign we all have lives to live – and we don’t always have the energy to worship in-person or to open up the church’s facebook page at 10 am on a Sunday. That doesn’t mean being with God isn’t important or that we shouldn’t make worship a priority or that I’m giving you an out when you choose not to be with your faith community. Instead, I’m acknowledging it takes effort to worship and that all of you are a sign of what that effort looks like. But there are days when we are drawn elsewhere – and that’s something Jesus understands very well. 

Because as we heard in our reading from the gospel according to John, Thomas wasn’t there when Jesus visited the disciples the evening after the tomb was emptied. In John’s version of the Easter story, Mary Magdalene was the first to see that the stone blocking the tomb had rolled away. She ran and told Peter and the beloved disciple what she saw. They came and confirmed Jesus’ body wasn’t there. Both of them returned to the place where they were staying but Mary stayed. Jesus then revealed himself to her – and she, at first, thought he was a gardener. Yet when he called her by name, she saw what God had done. Jesus gave her a message to share with all the other disciples and so that’s exactly what she did. But Jesus didn’t say he was going to visit them that evening. All they knew was that Mary had seen the Lord and I bet they wished they had seen him too. So when Jesus showed up – that moment must have been bonkers. They had all seen Jesus arrested and killed. They had, in the midst of terror, fled from his side. They witnessed the authorities in this world try to end Jesus’ story. Yet there Jesus was – and their grief, wonder, confusion, and joy must have spilled out all at once. They saw Jesus’ hands and side still wounded – which meant the fullness of Jesus’ story still mattered. It meant their experiences of pain, loss, guilt, and anxiety – were valued – but wouldn’t be the end to their story. Each disciple, in that moment, knew that everything they had gone through was now wrapped up in hope. The text tells us they rejoiced but that word is way too small to describe what they experienced. God’s story would continue – and with the giving of the Holy Spirit through the breath of Jesus – each of them would carry that story into the world. 

So I wonder what it felt like to be Thomas when he met up with the disciples after all that happened. We don’t know why he wasn’t there when Jesus showed up but I think scripture gives us space to add in any reason we want. Maybe he had an errand to run or a family member who needed his help. Maybe he was at the doctor, getting something checked out or he was off taking his kid to their next big sporting event. Or, since it was the first day of the week, Thomas might have been at work. I want you to think about the last time you were unable to gather for worship. Think about your reason – and then give that reason to Thomas. His response to his friends, then, makes sense. All he wanted was their experience – which included more than just a visit from Jesus. He also wanted the chance to be there when Jesus showed up. And that meant he needed the opportunity to keep all his attention on God. Every other responsibility and need would have to be taken care of so that he could be where Jesus promised to be. But he, as an individual, couldn’t make that happen. What he needed was a community willing to take care of him so that he could experience Jesus in an intentional and life giving way. 

And that brings me back to the quote from bell hooks I mentioned last week. When she was asked to define love, she said “Love is a combination of six ingredients: care, commitment, knowledge, responsibility, respect and trust.” Care can look like many things but it can also be our giving others the opportunity to be in the place they need to be. We all are pulled by many things drawing our attention away from what matters most. You each have your own health, housing, food, and financial needs that need to be met. And we all live in a culture that measures our value based on the amount of things we produce. You might not have the time, energy, or resources to create an intentional meeting with God. But what might help you do that is if a group of people took it on themselves to make that happen. They could cook a meal for you so that you didn’t need to go to the store. They might mow your lawn, pick up your laundry, or schedule a vaccine appointment when those become available in the middle of the night. A community can use its resources – including people and money – to help each other have that kind of energy and time. And I think that might have happened the week after the very first Easter. Because, unlike the previous week, Thomas was there. He still hadn’t seen Jesus nor did he have the experiences all the other disciples had. Yet the community did not hold that against him. He was part of a faith community big enough to hold a lot of different experiences of God. Mary’s meeting of Jesus at the tomb did not mean she was more valued than him. Rather, Jesus had gathered them together to care for one another – no matter what. They might have taken it upon themselves to help Thomas be in the place where Jesus was the week before. And so when Jesus did show up, Thomas was able to do something no one else had done up to that point. He declared that Jesus was not only the Lord and not only God – but that he was also “my Lord and my God.” By making sure the people within the community had the time and the energy to be with God – they witnessed a new vision of who Jesus was for the world. 

So a low Sunday is never really a low Sunday. Rather, it’s an opportunity to experience Jesus and a chance to recommit ourselves to caring for one another. We get to ask what we can do to help others worship and wonder what might need to change so that everyone has the opportunity to see the love God has for them. That can sound scary because we were able to worship today. We probably would have been in that room on the first Easter evening 2000 years ago. But could we, would we, and might we realize that because Jesus has claimed us as his own – we then are called to look for the Thomas’ in our midst – and do our part to make sure they get to spend time with God too? 

Amen.

Now before the festival of the Passover, Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end. The devil had already put it into the heart of Judas son of Simon Iscariot to betray him. And during supper Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going to God, got up from the table, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him. He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?” Jesus answered, “You do not know now what I am doing, but later you will understand.” Peter said to him, “You will never wash my feet.” Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you, you have no share with me.” Simon Peter said to him, “Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!” Jesus said to him, “One who has bathed does not need to wash, except for the feet, but is entirely clean. And you are clean, though not all of you.” For he knew who was to betray him; for this reason he said, “Not all of you are clean.” After he had washed their feet, had put on his robe, and had returned to the table, he said to them, “Do you know what I have done to you? You call me Teacher and Lord—and you are right, for that is what I am. So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you. Very truly, I tell you, servants are not greater than their master, nor are messengers greater than the one who sent them. If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them.

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.”

John 13:1-17, 31b-35

My sermon from Maundy Thursday (April 1, 2021) on John 13:1-17, 31b-35.

******

So on Monday, I was running about ten minutes late to my first COVID vaccine appointment. During the rush to get my three kids out the door, I forgot to pack some snacks for my two year old. I quickly grabbed a pear, some veggie straws, and a Super Mario Brother water bottle and made a quick detour to daycare. I then headed towards the vaccination center run by Valley Health in Paramus. I had no trouble getting a parking spot near the door and there was literally no line to get in. The only thing I was asked to do before I checked-in was to squirt some sanitizer on my hands and have my temperature checked by a tablet that could tell I was wearing a facemask. On the floor were big blue circles letting me know where I could stand – like a real life version of the board game Candy Land. The circles snaked around the room, inviting me to hop, skip, and jump to the check-in desk. On the desk was a large packet of papers stapled together. I couldn’t read the pages but I assumed it was a long list of everyone who had an appointment. They asked for my name and started flipping through the document in their hands. Some of the pages were covered in yellow highlighter while others were mostly white. They flipped the pages one way, then the other, and then back the other way again. Eventually, they found me – and they added a new row of yellow highlighter to the page. But I was surprised by how much white was around my name. I figured with my lateness, that I’d be one of the last people that checked-in for that timespot. Yet at this time when securing an appointment for a vaccine is still not easy, there were a lot of people who hadn’t checked-in. After getting my name highlighted, I then moved into another CandyLand esque line. And while standing there, I found myself wondering: what was the story of the person who had an appointment but happened to be later than me? 

Now, there’s a lot of different reasons why they might be late. Since we live in New Jersey, there’s always the problem of traffic or missing your exit on the Parkway. Or maybe their story was a bit like mine since you rarely get time off being a parent. Nor do you really get much time off as a kid – and it might have taken longer than expected for an elderly parent to safely leave their home and get in their car. Or maybe they were just late because a successful schedule has to navigate everyone else’s schedule too. Those were the kinds of stories that seem the most comfortable to dream up but other stories were possible too. Maybe the person who booked the appointment did it on behalf of someone else who already received their vaccine elsewhere. Or maybe it was for a person working from home who planned to take an extended break but got stuck on a meeting over Zoom that could have really been settled in an email. There’s also the parent or teacher or parent/teacher who was supposed to be covered while teaching in their school but had to make every virtual due to rising virus cases in our area. And then there’s the person who’s unemployment benefits ran out – or hadn’t started – and they need to choose between visiting a food pantry or getting the vaccine. The more I wondered, the more I noticed how simply getting an appointment might not be enough. What was truly needed was a support network able to step into our lives for an hour so we didn’t feel like we had to throw away our shot. Getting the appointment was hard but getting to the appointment could be harder. Caring for each other is often a team sport – and it’s not easy to love one another when you don’t get the support you need, too. 

Later on in worship, we’ll participate in a ritual we do every Maundy Thursday. After we bring all our concerns up to God and after we celebrate the Lord’s Supper and wash each other’s feet or hands – the altar – the table Jesus has already prepared for us – will be stripped bare. Every candle, parament, and even the plastic we keep under the altar cloth in case I spill some wine, will be removed. Now, since we’re worshipping online, what you’ll see is a video of me doing that in the sanctuary. And while I weave in and out of your screen, you’ll listen to a reading from the gospel according to John. And those verses are actually ones we skipped in the reading right before this sermon. We heard Peter deny Jesus by telling him to not wash his feet. And we heard Jesus give us a new commandment to love one another. Yet sandwiched between those two passages is the one where Judas left Jesus’ table and told the local authorities where he was. We often approach this passage from John in a piecemeal manner by focusing on either Peter’s freakout about Jesus touching his feet or by zeroing in on Jesus’ commandment to love one another. But I wonder what these words sound like if we keep the story whole? What does it mean to hear Peter’s denial, to know what Judas was about to do, and yet see Jesus wash their feet anyways? And how do we hold the truth of that denial and betrayal while listening to Jesus command us to love everyone in a brand new way? When we put the whole story together – the parts that strip ourselves bare and those bits that invite us to wonder – Jesus’ commandment feels different. It has heft and weight and might even be a little scary. Because Jesus didn’t tell us to only love those who are easy to love. Rather, he said we needed to wash the feet of those who do not like us and those who cannot stand us. Now, this wasn’t Jesus telling us to put-up with abuse or to accept a kind of love within our personal relationships that harms who we are. But it does invite a kind of self-reflection looking at the ways we love one another. And even though I can’t see you right now – I know that you, even on your bad days, do your best to share the grace of God everyday. It’s a grace that even surprises  you – like when you’re way more patient than you usually are or when you take a moment to offer a true listening ear to a friend. I’m sure it wouldn’t be hard for you to list all the ways you haven’t loved fully or deeply or as widely as you wanted. Yet I believe you keep loving others anyways because Christ has already made you his own. I know it doesn’t always feel like that but in your baptism and in your faith – the Spirit of God is with you – which means the love of God is with you too. And that kind of love isn’t a love of sentimentality or merely a feeling that would look good on a card from Hallmark. Rather, it’s a love willing to do hard things – giving even the hopeless, hope. Yet the responsibility to love is not one that falls on individuals alone. Because Jesus didn’t pull Peter aside after his denial and tell him to go wash other people’s feet. Rather, he did this among a group of everyone who he gathered around his table. We are given, as a community, the responsibility to help each other love. And that’s not always an easy thing to do. We might find ourselves having to take on a bit more work than we expected or to even listen to a person we’re in conflict with. We might have to learn how to be vulnerable, willing to share the ugly bits of our own story so that those around us realize they’re not going through their pain alone. We get to do the hard work of helping each other love the people around them. How that looks is going to change depending on the situation and circumstance. Yet if we lean on love – and in every situation work hard to do the most loving thing in that moment – we’re doing more than being good people. We’re being Christ’s people – because that’s who you already are. So let’s commit ourselves to help one other love. And may our most reverent best guess centered in mercy, forgiveness, and hope be the sign of how our God chooses to go all-in for us all. 

Amen.

[Jesus said:] “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 world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.

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. Those who believe in him are not condemned; but those who do not believe are condemned already, because they have not believed in the name of the only Son of God. And this is the judgment, that the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil. For all who do evil hate the light and do not come to the light, so that their deeds may not be exposed. But those who do what is true come to the light, so that it may be clearly seen that their deeds have been done in God.”

John 3:14-21

My sermon from the Fourth Sunday in Lent (March 14, 2021) on John 3:14-21.

*******

So for today’s sermon, I want to begin with a question that I’ve been sitting with for awhile: how do we hold the fullness of the past while still living into the future?

You might know that I didn’t grow up in Northern New Jersey. And if I wanted to visit my childhood home, I’d need to drive about 1,792 miles west. My hometown of Littleton, Colorado, was once the southern boundary of the Denver Metropolitan area. But over time, suburban sprawl pushed the boundary outwards. And new cities with hundreds of thousands of people now exist in places where I once watched antelope graze. Now, my high school was Arapahoe High School and it was larger than Pascack Valley and Pascack Hills combined. The school was known for its academics and it has a pretty good soccer team. It probably wouldn’t surprise you to know that I was one of the more nerdy kids while there. And while high school was definitely not perfect, they at least didn’t want our 4 years there to be the peak of our lives. A few years before I attended Arapahoe, there was a bit of a controversy. For decades, their mascot was the Warrior – which could have been very generic. But since the high school was named after one of the Native American tribes that once called the area home, the decision was made to make the mascot a caricature of what white Americans imagined indian warriors to be. The mascot was typically depicted as a face turned to its side. He had piercing anger filled eyes, a high forehead, strong nose, and a mohawk on top. He also wore feathers and other accessories that were actually part of Eastern Native American cultures rather than anything out West. No effort was made to have the mascot fit the Arapaho nation. And for decades, that mascot told a story that remembered why it was called Arapahoe but one that wasn’t interested in looking past its founding. And that’s because the Arapaho nation had been forcibly removed from the area in the late 1870s after the United States broke treaty after treaty it signed with the tribe. Some of its members were eventually moved 500 miles north, to the Wind River Reservation in Wyoming. But sometime in the late 1980s, members of the student body, some alumni, and administrators decided to dig deeper into its story. They dug deeper into a vision of history bigger than just the students who ever called Arapahoe High School home. That journey eventually led to the Northern Arapaho Tribe and Arapahoe High School forming a relationship. The relationship included a kind of truth telling, where the school reflected on how the mascot wasn’t telling the full story of its past. It had appropriated a version of an identity while ignoring everything that made that identity what it was. The Tribe told the school they could continue using the Warrior as its mascot but the tribe would teach them what a warrior was all about. A new logo was designed by a member of the tribe, Wilbur Antelope, and was a portrait of their tribal elder, Anthony Sitting Eagle. The two communities promised to visit each other every-other-year, sharing their stories, traditional dances, celebrating accomplishments, and mourning together when crisis struck. Each year, the tribe provided a scholarship for the valedictorian of the high school even though Arapahoe High School is in a very affluent area and the Northern Arapaho Tribe suffers with generational poverty. In the words of Lone Bear, “To [the Northern Arapaho Tribe], being a warrior means going to battle for what’s right, taking care of your family, and passing on knowledge.” And what’s passed on is a full story that does not sugar coat, romanticize, or ignore how the past forms our present and our future. Rather, it faces who we are so that we can become something more. 

Today’s reading from John is part of a conversation Jesus had with a man named Nicodemus. The conversation took place at night and I like to imagine it beginning with Jesus sitting alone in a room. The glow from a small oil lamp illuminated his face and he was trying to wind down after a busy day of preaching and teaching. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door and instead of blowing out the lamp and pretending he wasn’t there, Jesus opened the door and Nicodemus walked in. The conversation began with Nicodemus making one of those statements that was really a bit of a question. He said he recognized Jesus’ connection to God because “no one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God.” Now that affirmed a little of Jesus’ own identity but it might also have been an attempt by Nicodemus to get Jesus to do what we all love to do: and that’s talk about ourselves. By affirming his connection to God, Nicodemus might have wanted some more backstory of how that was possible. Jesus could have then shared his story like we share ours: making himself look a little more faithful; a little smarter; and definitely a lot cooler than he actually was. But he could probably have done something we can’t do: step outside the bounds of history and see how different actions by different people over different time periods formed the complex reality we’re just trying to live in. We’re not always good at holding together the parts of our story we are active participants in and the other bits we are given: like our culture, our background, our opportunities, and those things we assume are just how things are. Nicodemus might have expected Jesus to do the same – to tell a cherry picked version of what it means to be the Son of God. But if Jesus had done that, he wouldn’t have been able to tell his full story – one that was going to include the Cross. So instead of talking about himself, Jesus instead turned the conversation around. He poke and prodded at Nicodemus until Nicodemus suddenly found himself in a fuller version of God’s story; one that wasn’t over quite yet. Because Jesus’ ministry wasn’t only centered on where he was from but, rather, on where he was going. What mastered wasn’t that Jesus was part of the Trinity or that he was there when creation came into being. What made Jesus’ story Jesus’ story was that God entered our lives and our world because God’s love couldn’t do anything less. God wouldn’t let the partial stories of our past, our present, and what we imagine our future to be – to limit what God knows we can be. The story of God’s love can hold the truths of our past and the reality of our present while propelling us into a future that is full of hope. 

As followers of Jesus, we sometimes struggle with the fullness of our story. When we examine bits and pieces of our history – the parts that are personal and the parts that include the people who came before us – we’re not always ready to celebrate its true beauty or admit how harsh it actually was. We tend to add a buffer to the story so that we can be isolated ourselves from history. Yet we seem to know how interconnected our stories actually are because we take personally any judgment leveled against the past. It’s okay to be proud or sad or indifferent or excited about the story of who we are and the story we tell about ourselves. But that story of our past was never meant to justify the future God already has in mind for us. Because when you were baptized and graced with faith in God – you were given a promise that your yesterday and your today will not be the limit of your tomorrow. Rather, the love of God would be gifted to you and the Son of God – Jesus Christ himself – would be a companion with you through whatever life brings your way. No longer are you limited to the story you tell about yourself. You are wrapped up in the story of God who sent Jesus not to condemn the world but to save it. And that future doesn’t begin tomorrow – it begins today. We get to tell a fuller story of who we are; where we’ve come from; and how we inherited things beyond our control. Yet we don’t need to be limited by what the past says we can be; instead, we can embrace the future as God declares it will be. And that future is full of love; full of welcome; full of inclusion; full of new life; and full of people just like you – those who have sometimes made bad choices; sometimes denied the dignity of others; sometimes failed to see the image of God in their neighbor; and – at our best – have loved complete strangers just like Jesus loves us. We get to be oriented towards God’s future rather than by our limited view of our past. And we get to live that way right now – because your eternal life has already started. 

Amen.

Then [Jesus] began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again. He said all this quite openly. And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. But turning and looking at his disciples, he rebuked Peter and said, “Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”
He called the crowd with his disciples, and said to them, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life? Indeed, what can they give in return for their life? Those who are ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of them the Son of Man will also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels.”

Mark 8:31-38

My sermon from First Sunday in Lent (February 28, 2021) on Mark 8:31-38.

******

One of the easiest ways to cause a problem in your relationship is to speak up in a very public setting. For example, let’s say you’re out with friends and everyone was having fun. One of your friends made a light hearted comment and then you, without thinking, turned that comment into a joke at their expense. Or maybe your coworker was telling a story but left out something that’s a little embarrassing. That little detail had no bearing on the outcome of the story but you couldn’t help to speak up and reveal what they didn’t want you to share. Or maybe you and your loved one were having an argument. It was simmering for a while and it wasn’t resolved. You were starting to feel a little bit resentful and while staying up way too late scrolling through social media, you made a post, turning your private conflict into one that’s now very public. Not everything in our relationships is designed for public consumption. And I know, personally, how easy it is to create drama by inadvertently crossing that line. We don’t always mean to call attention to our friends in a way that makes them defensive. But it’s sometimes easier doing that than telling them, “we need to talk.” What we need to do is own up to the truth that these kinds of one-on-one conversations are really hard. They aren’t always easy but they can be the one thing we’re supposed to do. So I wonder if Peter, in our reading today from the gospel according to Mark, was trying to do a hard thing. I know he usually gets a bad wrap when we read this passage because it takes a certain amount of gumption to messiah-splain to the Son of God. Yet if Peter really wanted to call out Jesus in an unintentional or difficult way, I imagine he would have done so in front of all the disciples. Instead Peter waited for an opportunity to pull Jesus aside and say, “hey, we need to talk.” Peter did the hard thing – and Jesus responded by doing everything you’re not supposed to do when tending to a relationship. 

Now before we go too deep into Jesus’ actions, it’s important to set the stage of what’s happening in our reading. Jesus and his followers were approaching the city of Caesarea Philippi. Caesarea was founded by Herod the Great’s son – Herod Philip – and his kingdom included parts of Galilee, Syria, and Jordan. Caesarea Philippi became the administrative center of his little empire which is why he named it after himself. But Herod Philip also decided to use the name of the city to flatter the person who gave him his power. Caesarea was named after Caesar – aka the Roman Emperor. Herod Philip ruled the area because the Roman Empire, which controlled the region, let him rule. Without their authority and power, Herod was nothing. So he filled the city with Roman imagery, Roman statues, and they even built a temple honoring the Roman Emperors outside the city. As Jesus and his disciples neared this very Roman looking city, Peter confessed that Jesus was the Messiah. Peter’s confession was more than just a theological or spiritual statement. It was also a political one – because if Jesus is Lord – that means the Emperor – and those who supported him – were not. By saying Jesus was the Messiah, Peter was proclaiming that the structure of power in our world was about to change. Jesus’ ministry wasn’t only only about taking care of people’s souls; he was also going to take care of their bodies, their ideologies, and the ways they live with one another. Jesus’ good news for the poor was literally that – good news for the marginalized; the pushed aside; and those without power. But any good news for them was also anything but for those who enjoyed power in the here and now. Peter couldn’t wait to see God’s compassion for the marginalized realized in his lifetime. But when Jesus started talking about suffering, pain, and this…thing used by the Roman Empire to maintain their power and control – Peter felt compelled to say to Jesus: “hey, we need to talk.” Peter wasn’t being malicious but he couldn’t imagine God’s love bringing about a kind of conflict where the Empire, rather than Jesus, would win. 

Now, I don’t know what Peter expected when he pulled Jesus aside – but he probably didn’t plan for his private conversation to become very public. Not only did Jesus bring their conversation back to the disciples – he then included the entire crowd. In fact, we’re still reading about Jesus calling Peter “Satan” 2000 years later – which is usually not really a great way to keep a relationship with each other. Peter, after witnessing Jesus’ fame grow and after experiencing Jesus’ power, assumed Jesus would install himself into a position of authority that held power over others. Jesus would become a kind of benevolent emperor – a kinder version of the type of ruler they had all grown up with. But Jesus, as the Son of God, didn’t need to be installed in to power. He already had it. The difference, however, was that he wasn’t interested in what we imagine power to be all about. What he wanted – what he practiced – and what he taught – was a power with others and one that would heal the world. It’s why he ate meals with sinners and hung out with the poor rather than the rich. It’s why he healed people on the sabbath – not letting people suffer even one day more. And it’s why he wouldn’t allow the maintaining of the status quo interfere with the giving – and sharing – of life. In the words of Ira Digger, “Mark is saying that the Son of God will not dial down his ministry to spare his own life, or even to ease his suffering. His commitment to the healing of humanity literally knows no limits.” The power Jesus lived out was a power meant to help others – regardless of their social status, their identities, their genders, their ages, or their wealth – to thrive. His mission in the world was, by default, going to disrupt the world. And so that’s why the world’s response to that kind of disruption – is always the Cross. 

Now it’s a bit strange to talk about Jesus’ ministry of healing in the midst of an ongoing pandemic. I know too many people who’ve been infected by COVID-19 in just the last few weeks. If there’s anything I want right now, it’s Jesus’ healing of the world. But I’m also mindful of how I want that healing to just be a return to how things were. We all want this disruption to end but that doesn’t mean we’re always open to the kind of disruption Jesus’ healing actually brings. We want a return to normal but Jesus was never in the business of letting things remain the same. God always comes to us in love and that’s why we try to resist it. We want Jesus to move in our world but only on our terms. We are fine with God’s love as long as we don’t have to give up our ideas of freedom, of power, of position, or our points of view. We’re okay with Jesus as long as Jesus doesn’t ask us and our  communities to change too much. And we assume that good news can only be good if it caters to us. Yet God won’t let us get in the way of a love and a hope and a way of being in the world that lets God be God and lets let’s life, not the Cross, be what we share with all. There is a cost to being a disciple of Jesus – and that means we are called to give up ways we resist what God is doing in our world. We need to give up limiting who deserves love and who doesn’t; we need to give up limiting our attention to only people who are like us; we need to give up the ways our social status and power requires others to make adjustments for us; and we need to lean into relationships with all people instead of only a chosen few. We need – in a way – to be like Peter and Jesus. We need to refuse to give up on one another. Because even when Peter thought Jesus got it wrong and when Jesus called out Peter for all time – they doubled down their commitment to each other. Even when we get our relationship wrong; even when we say something we shouldn’t; and even when something private becomes way too public; we can commit ourselves to being Jesus’ good news in our world. And this is something we can do because in your baptism, in your faith, and in this very moment – Jesus has already made the promise to never give up on you. 

Amen. 

Jesus said: “Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them; for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven. “So whenever you give alms, do not sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, so that they may be praised by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your alms may be done in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.“And whenever you pray, do not be like the hypocrites; for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, so that they may be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.“And whenever you fast, do not look dismal, like the hypocrites, for they disfigure their faces so as to show others that they are fasting. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, so that your fasting may be seen not by others but by your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal; but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

Matthew 6:1-6,16-21

My sermon from Ash Wednesday (February 17, 2021) on Matthew 6:1-6,16-21.

*******

So I’d like to start tonight’s sermon with a little experiment. Take a look at everyone who surrounds you. If you’re by yourself, think about a few neighbors or family members or friends. Take a moment to really focus on everything that makes them who they are. Examine their clothes, the features of their face, the way they laugh, and the opinions they hold. Make sure your entire focus is directed at them. And then – once you feel as if you are totally absorbing who they are – make a detailed list of everyone of their sins. 

Now, if your eyes just grew wide, know that mine did too. And the truth is that I don’t actually want you to make such a list – especially since I want the rest of your night with your spouse, your children, and your friends to be peaceful. But I do wonder what your reaction was to that request. Did your eyes, like mine, get big? Were you surprised to be asked to make such a list on the first day of Lent? Or did you notice that you already had such a list in mind? You might have found yourself, in a split second, feeling full of judgement. You started criticizing their choice in jeans, the ways they eat, and how you’re always the one who makes plans to connect with family and friends. Your list could have included things you’ve brought up before or maybe only things you’ve kept to yourself. And it might have been surprising to see how many minor annoyances we automatically label as sins. Not everything that bugs us is necessarily a sin but we all struggle to live as if God’s kingdom has come near. Every day, we have to do the hard work of living with the fact that not everyone in the world thinks or acts like us. But we are pretty good at identifying other people’s problems. That doesn’t mean we’re actually right in the conclusions we draw, but we’re really efficient when it comes to seeing what we imagine to be other people’s sins. I wonder if we do that because human beings can be very outward focus. Our eyes look outside of us and our ears are tuned to listen to what’s around us. Even the voice we speak sounds much different from the voice we hear in our heads. In some ways, we are designed to be outward facing at all times. And it can take work to shift our focus towards ourselves. 

So what if I asked you to make a different kind of list. Instead of asking you to name the sins other people have – what would it be like to make a detailed list of your own? What would it take to name all the ways you act as if you are the center of the world and how hard it is to believe that we’re not? Our initial list might feel pretty general but I bet we could make it be as detailed as the list we made about others. This list wouldn’t be a tool we use to harm our sense of self – to enhance the lies the world – or our selves – tell us. Rather, it would simply be an attempt to list the truths we refuse to hide. And it would be a list that God already knows. A shift from looking outwards and cultivating what’s inside of us – is one of the things, I think, Jesus is getting at in our reading from the gospel according to Matthew. 

Now this passage is one we read every Ash Wednesday and it comes from the middle of Jesus’ great sermon on the mount. Matthew placed that sermon at the start of Jesus’ ministry – an attempt, I think, to try and describe what fueled the inner life of Christ. For Matthew, the presence of God was fleshed out not only in the reality of Jesus but also in his preaching and teaching. He wanted to give us a sense of what fueled Jesus and helped him change the lives of so many people who were outside of him. And that interplay between who we are, whose we are, and how that impacts the world around us – was something Jesus touched on often. He knew that faith and God’s love took seriously who we really are. That includes not only what we do but also what we think, what we believe, and what we feel. He was mindful of every relationship that we have and how outward focus we can be. Yet everything we live through and everything we do is experienced, expressed, and generated by our body and our mind. When we focus on what outsides of us, that focus still comes from somewhere. And Jesus wanted us to be mindful of who we are so that we can become the people God knows we can be. 

So when we listen to Jesus’ words about hypocrites, we shouldn’t just blankly dismiss the people he talked about. They – like us – were people practicing their faith. They prayed. They fasted. They made financial gifts to their faith communities and those who are in need. They took time to nurture their relationship with God – and yet Jesus was aware of how easy the life of faith can become so outwardly focused, it forgets where that focus comes from. And if the fuel for our faith relies primarily on the attention others give us, then our faith actually becomes unsustainable. Because there will be times when the attention we receive will be harmful or non-existent. And there will be moments when grief, sadness, pain, and suffering make it too hard to believe. We might even find ourselves too busy for God or having so much joy in our life that we end up acting as if we do need any more God. What sustains our faith cannot depend on what others – or ourselves – give to us. Rather, we need God and the promise that Jesus will never let us go. 

So what is a practice of faith that keeps Jesus close to us and helps us hold onto the fuel for the life we actually live? Well, one answer to that question comes from the verses we didn’t hear today. In the gap between verses 6 and 16 – Matthew included this: 

“Pray then in this way: Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come. Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors. And do not bring us to the time of trial, but rescue us from the evil one. For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you; but if you do not forgive others, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.”

Those verses probably sound familiar and that’s because they’re Matthew’s version of the Lord’s Prayer. And that prayer is more than just something we recite because Jesus told us too. Rather, he knew that these words serve as a kind of corrective when we default to an outward focused identity. When we pray the Lord’s prayer – we are reminding ourselves that there is a God – and that we’re not it. We hold tight to the truth that God’s kingdom will come; that our food, clothing, shelter, and wealth are gifts; and that God is leading us even when we are too busy to notice Jesus in our life. This prayer reminds us that God’s forgiveness is what helps us forgive others. And that the gift of faith is sustained not by what we do, or what we read, or what we are taught. But that faith itself is a gift from God – and the fuel for the life we are called to live. When we tend to ourselves, we are taking care of what God uses to love the world. The Lord’s prayer is just one of the gifts God gave us to cultivate a faithful inner life. God also gave us the gift of therapy, the gift medication, and the gift that each one of us can learn to truly listen to the people around us. And that might be one way we can lean into this season of Lent. We can take these 40 days and 6 Sundays as an opportunity to tend to what fuels us. Because the list of sins – the one we make for other people and the one we make ourselves – is not the sum of what the life of faith is all about. Rather, in your baptism and in your faith – you are  given the gifts of hope, peace, love, and Jesus himself – to fuel who you truly are. Jesus expects those who follow him to practice their faith – which is why he said “when” rather than “if” all over this passage. So that’s something we can do – in church, in our homes, with our families, and even on our own. We can tend to ourselves so that the true treasures of heaven can be expressed in our lives, in our loves, and in the hope God gifts to the world.

Amen.

Now when Jesus heard this, he withdrew from there in a boat to a deserted place by himself. But when the crowds heard it, they followed him on foot from the towns. When he went ashore, he saw a great crowd, and he had compassion for them and cured their sick. When it was evening, the disciples came to him and said, “This is a deserted place, and the hour is now late; send the crowds away so that they may go into the villages and buy food for themselves.” Jesus said to them, “They need not go away; you give them something to eat.” They replied, “We have nothing here but five loaves and two fish.” And he said, “Bring them here to me.” Then he ordered the crowds to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven and blessed and broke the loaves and gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the crowds. And all ate and were filled, and they took up what was left over of the broken pieces, twelve baskets full. And those who ate were about five thousand men, besides women and children.

Matthew 14:23-31 (NRSVue)

My sermon from the 9th Sunday after Pentecost Sunday (August 2, 2020) on Matthew 14:13-21.

---

I’m going to start today’s sermon with a question: what do you do with leftovers? 

Well, what I try to do with those bits of food leftover after a meal is to save them. I take what wasn’t eaten and usually store it in a takeout container with a mismatched lid. I tell myself that this food would be perfect to eat the next day and that I should remember where I put it in the fridge. But that mental note doesn’t always stick. And before you know it, that container full of leftovers is pushed to the back of the fridge. When I finally remember that it’s there, it’s no longer food fit for people to eat. Rather, it becomes a kind of science experiment that I used to do at school. I end up tossing those leftovers out – and I take the entire bag of garbage to my garage. Now, I try to be on top of things when it comes to leftovers. Right before I sat down to write this sermon, my lunch consisted of five day old peach cobbler and the last slice from a day old bread boat covered in cheese. Leftovers, to me, can sometimes be the very best part of a meal. Because there’s something special about food that’s all carbs and covered in sauce when it’s eaten on day two. But there are times when leftovers are just leftovers and they never actually get eaten. The mental notes we make for ourselves sort of vanish in the busyness – or lack of busyness – present in our every day lives. Our best intentions can’t always compete with the fact that time moves forward – and that there’s another meal we need to plan for. When the next day comes and if we have the resources to make a choice when it comes to our meal, we might not want to eat what we had the day before. Those leftovers might not fit into the life we’re living right now – especially if we always ate leftovers at the office but we’re now entering the fifth month of working at home. Or maybe leftovers aren’t really something that show up in our life very often. Maybe the meals we make are only meals for one – and we haven’t been to a restaurant in months. Leftovers can sometimes simply be food we are planning to eat. But they can also tell a story about what’s happening and what’s possible in our life right now. 

In today’s reading from the gospel according to Matthew, there’s a lot of leftovers. But it started with Jesus not really having anything extra to give. When he heard that John the Baptist was executed by those in power, Jesus wanted to take a moment just for himself. He went by boat to a place where he could be alone because he was, I think, grieving. Jesus went to a wilderness place – but it wasn’t a place where he couldn’t be found. The crowds and people in the towns nearby heard about John’s death too – and so they went out to find Jesus. They noticed him on the boat – and so they gathered along the seashore. Jesus saw them and chose to come ashore. Even though he was grieving, Jesus recognized their need and so he showed compassion while, I think, his heart was already breaking. The grief Jesus experienced didn’t stop him from showing love and so he started healing the sick that were around him. As evening crept near, the disciples finally caught up to Jesus who was surrounded by the crowds. They too – recognized a need – and how no one looked like they really made plans to spend that night in a deserted place. Maybe they, like Jesus, felt compelled to just get out once they heard of John’s death. The urgency of that moment – their fear and uncertainty – didn’t give them the opportunity to pack a few sandwiches before they headed out. The disciples, I think, were moved to show mercy – and so they told Jesus to send them home so that they people could actually be fed. But the mercy Jesus had in mind was different. He wouldn’t let them outsource filling the need that they had already seen. He told them to feed the crowd but the disciples assumed that what they had would never be enough. Their first response was to say they had nothing – except for five loaves and two fishes that would be nothing in a crowd that large anyways. We might want to rag on the disciples a bit because they were with Jesus – and this wasn’t the first miracle Jesus had done. But I do think the disciples were trying to be loving at that moment. And when they noticed a problem in the crowd before the crowd even complained – they recommended what they thought was possible. Their capacity for love and care was large – but Jesus was about to invite them to expand their vision of what was possible. 

So Jesus, after giving thanks, blessed and broke the loaves and fishes. He gave the pieces to the disciples who then turned around and fed the crowd. After everyone ate their fill, the leftover bread and fishes filled twelve large baskets. It wasn’t enough for Jesus to just satisfy the immediate needs of the people gathered around him. He made sure that there were plenty of leftovers. But one of the funny things about this story is that we never hear what happened to those baskets. We never learn if that food was given to the crowd or was stashed away by the disciples to be eaten later. Now, I’m pretty sure anyone with a piece of bread or fish that was blessed and broken by Jesus would’ve made sure that it didn’t end up pushed to the back or bottom of their knapsack. Yet today’s scene ended with those 12 baskets just sitting there. And nothing was used up – or thrown away. 

And so those leftovers, I think, are an invitation for us to expand our capacity to see what’s possible in our world. We, like the disciples, often notice a problem but then quickly shift our focus to our limitation. Instead of lingering in the problem, we move into those moments where we assume we aren’t enough. That doesn’t mean – and I’m not saying – that we all need to be optimists or embrace some kind of mantra like positive thinking. But I do wonder if the miracle in today’s story isn’t necessarily the feeding – but the opportunity Jesus gave the disciples to do what they didn’t think was possible. Because even though Jesus broke the bread and blessed it, he gave it to the disciples to feed the crowd. He didn’t take it on himself to do all the work. He knew that the disciples had been moved by mercy – so he gave them something different to help their practice of love grow. It’s not hard for us to linger in the limitations of what we think is possible. Our lives, experiences, and personal histories teach us what is possible and what is not. And that can be good because it helps to keep us safe. But our lives and experiences can also limit what we think is possible for us with God. We are called  to be aware of what’s happening to our families, our neighbors, our country, and our world. We are called to see the needs of people who are not exactly like us. And when we see them, we can choose to focus on the limits of what we think love looks like. But we also have another choice. We can choose to expand our capacity of what love looks like – because God’s kingdom is always so much more. The leftovers of grace that Jesus displayed in this story was just an extension of the work he was already up to. Our reading began with Jesus noticing the crowd, recognizing their needs, and then offering love. Jesus was already busy working before the disciples showed up – and he’s also busy working in our world right now. We can, together, expand our capacity for what love looks like by not letting our limits define what we think God’s limits are too. Because, the truth is, that love always leaves leftovers. And the love God gives you – is a love we can give to each other and to the world – and that love should be big enough to leave leftovers too. 

Amen. 

[Jesus] put before them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed that someone took and sowed in his field; it is the smallest of all the seeds, but when it has grown it is the greatest of shrubs and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and make nests in its branches.”

He told them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like yeast that a woman took and mixed in with three measures of flour until all of it was leavened.”

“The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which a man found and reburied; then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field.

“Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls; on finding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it.

“Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a net that was thrown into the sea and caught fish of every kind; when it was full, they drew it ashore, sat down, and put the good into baskets but threw out the bad. So it will be at the end of the age. The angels will come out and separate the evil from the righteous and throw them into the furnace of fire, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.

“Have you understood all this?” They answered, “Yes.” And he said to them, “Therefore every scribe who has become a disciple in the kingdom of heaven is like the master of a household who brings out of his treasure what is new and what is old.”

Matthew 13:31-33, 44-52

My sermon from the 8th Sunday after Pentecost Sunday (July 26, 2020) on Matthew 13:31-33, 44-52.

---

Two weeks ago, when we last looked at parables – those 40 or so short stories Jesus used in his preaching and teaching – I mentioned a trick that I use to interpret what Jesus said. Now, the word trick might be a little harsh because Jesus’ parables aren’t some kind of secret code that we’re supposed to figure out. Instead, they’re stories we’re invited to sit with for a while. And we get to pay attention to how these words impact our hearts, minds, and bodies. We don’t want to rush past them – thinking we either already know what Jesus was talking about or to assume that our confusion about Jesus’ words means we should ignore them. The trick I shared helps us to become comfortable admitting that, when it comes to Jesus, there are times when we have no idea what he’s talking about. We can, and should, say more often those three words – “I don’t know.” We don’t have to pretend like Jesus’ followers did and say “yes,” immediately after Jesus asked “do you understand?” We can pause, reflect, and still look totally confused while also being incredibly faithful. Jesus gave us permission to say “I don’t know” because that phrase is one of the ways the Spirit uses to reveal the good news Jesus is offering to us – and to the world. 

So what was that trick that I mentioned two weeks ago? 

Well, I invited all of us – when listening to the parables Jesus shared – that we should pay attention to the weird. The weird can be, pretty much, anything. It could be the place where Jesus shared that story or the fact that he repeated a phrase over and over again. The weird could also be the setup for the story itself – filled with characters who wouldn’t normally meet in the first place. Or the weird could be the fact that the characters within the story do things that, on deeper reflection, do not make a lot of sense. Luckily for us, there’s a lot of weird in the many different parables we heard today. And it starts off with a mustard seed being planted in a field. Although the mustard plant was seen in a positive light by some people in the Roman Empire, it wasn’t something you would necessarily plant near your other crops. The mustard plant of the middle east was more like a hardy weedy – one that aggressively took over everything else. Even though it started from a very small seed, the plant couldn’t be controlled. And the one Jesus described was so over-the-top, it turned into a giant tree that even birds could sleep in. It would be pretty weird for a farmer or a gardener to plant a weed like that. 

Then there’s the parable of the woman mixing dough for bread. Now, there’s nothing weird about baking bread but the woman in the parable does something odd. She doesn’t only make enough dough for her family. Instead, she made enough to feed the entire neighborhood. Yet the text is weird because it described the kingdom not as that bread but as yeast – which, in some biblical texts, is actually a bad thing. Yeast was typically described as a corrupting influence – something that wasn’t even allowed in something holy, like the celebration of Passover. It’s really weird to see yeast as something divine when it was also seen as something very dangerous. 

And yet – there’s still more. There’s a person who finds an amazing treasure and chose to hide it in a field. Banks and safe deposit boxes weren’t really a thing 2000 years ago so that could make sense. But then that person sold everything they had to buy that field – and maybe just left that treasure, buried in the ground. We don’t get to hear how that story turned out before we meet a merchant in the business of buying and selling pearls. After finding a specific pearl that they wanted, they chose to destroy their livelihood by getting rid of their inventory to purchase an item that they would never sell. We next hear of a net filled with every kind of fish there was – and were asked to believe that one person could some sort and organize the incredibly the diversity that exists in all the waters of the world. Finally, Jesus ended his series of parables by talking about scribes who were usually hired to work for the master of households – as somehow becoming like the masters themselves. These parables were over-the-top, yet filled with very ordinary things. Jesus described farmers planting; bakers baking; merchants shopping; and fishers fishing. And that, I think, might be the weirdness thing of all: because when do we describe anything as powerful, potent, amazing, and divine like kingdom of heaven and the reign of God – as something that can be summed up by the slightly weird happenings of our ordinary lives?

The kingdom of heaven – God’s presence in our life – is weird and Jesus’ words hint at why that is so. We sometimes imagine that when the divine shows up, trumpets sound. Our prayers are answered; God’s might is expressed; and the power of the heavens appears in an over-the-top kind of way. And that, I think, is how we expect God to move in our world. We want a God who is so obvious that we could point that event to our family, friends, and even strangers and they would see that God was here too. We want a big God – who can overcome the big issues in our lives and in our world. And there are times when a big God does show up. But when we act, trust, or believe that God only works in big ways – then we let our expectations of God determine what God can do. And a God who only shows up in big ways is a God who misses the fact that we live most of our life in small doses. The God we want is a God who would have no problem being that large tree in the field or all the bread our neighbors could eat. But that kind of God would miss all the times when we’re just a seed, a sapling, or ingredients that are being gathered into dough. A God who is only big – is a God who would miss that we spent most of our life doing small and ordinary things. Yet we, instead, have a God who is big – but big enough for all the small things too. We have a God who entered the world small – as a newborn and who chose to be cared for and loved by a poor mother and a father who adopted him. We have a God who had angels announce Jesus’ birth not to kings but to shepherds who were watching their flocks in the hills at night. And we have a Jesus’ who was born while his family was on the move, uncertain about what the future would bring. Our God shows up not only in big ways but also in little ways – like in a little wafer, a little drink, in our prayers, our words, and even in the little pixels that make up the screens on our smartphones. We have a Jesus who says that it’s okay to say, “I don’t know” because he already knows you – exactly as you are. Life has a habit of not meeting our expectations. Yet, through our baptism and our faith, we have a God who is busy showing up in all of our ways. The way forward isn’t always clear and there are plenty of moments in our lives that are just weird. But we get to move into the future leaning into the promise God makes to each of you: you, as you are, are valued. You, as you are, are loved. You are allowed to say “I don’t know.” But with God’s love, grace, and guidance – we will live through our unknowns and into the future – that kingdom of heaven – that God is already bringing about. 

Amen. 

That same day Jesus went out of the house and sat beside the sea. Such great crowds gathered around him that he got into a boat and sat there, while the whole crowd stood on the beach. And he told them many things in parables, saying: “Listen! A sower went out to sow. And as he sowed, some seeds fell on a path, and the birds came and ate them up. Other seeds fell on rocky ground, where they did not have much soil, and they sprang up quickly, since they had no depth of soil. But when the sun rose, they were scorched, and since they had no root, they withered away. Other seeds fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked them. Other seeds fell on good soil and brought forth grain, some a hundredfold, some sixty, some thirty. If you have ears, hear!”

“Hear, then, the parable of the sower. When anyone hears the word of the kingdom and does not understand it, the evil one comes and snatches away what is sown in the heart; this is what was sown on the path. As for what was sown on rocky ground, this is the one who hears the word and immediately receives it with joy, yet such a person has no root but endures only for a while, and when trouble or persecution arises on account of the word, that person immediately falls away. As for what was sown among thorns, this is the one who hears the word, but the cares of this age and the lure of wealth choke the word, and it yields nothing. But as for what was sown on good soil, this is the one who hears the word and understands it, who indeed bears fruit and yields in one case a hundredfold, in another sixty, and in another thirty.”

Matthew 13:1-9,18-23 (NRSVue)

My sermon from the 6th Sunday after Pentecost Sunday (July 12, 2020) on Matthew 13:1-9,18-23.

---

Today’s reading from the gospel according to Matthew doesn’t contain the first parable Jesus told. But it does use the word “parable” for the very first time. And that makes sense because Matthew wanted to show that Jesus didn’t only perform miracles or make broad proclamations like “love your neighbor.” Jesus was also a storyteller and he had about 40 stories that he told regularly. We have no idea how often Jesus told these stories – but my hunch is that he told them a lot. And each one of these repeated stories lingered and resonated within the stories the early church told during the 30 to 50 years before the gospels were written down. The stories Jesus told stuck with the followers of Jesus because they, like him, could not be summed up by some kind of simple saying. Rather, the depth of the storyteller was mirrored through the stories they choose to tell. Jesus’ parables, then, invite us to linger with them – in the same kind of way we linger with him.

Yet spending time with parables is more than just trying to figure them out. A parable is designed to be familiar and different all at the same time. Parables are always supposed to be weird. And that weirdness means that our response to them isn’t always going to be the same. We might, like the disciples, ask Jesus – what does planting seeds actually mean? Or – in other parables – we might get what Jesus is saying pretty quickly but we’re not comfortable with the implications Jesus’s words have for our daily life. Parables often feel, at first glance, like they’re easy to grasp. But it’s not long before we realize they’re just out of reach. In a way, parables sort of mimic what Jesus did at the start of our reading today. He got into a boat and went a little ways out, away from the shore. He made sure that everyone in the crowd could see him – and the water from the lake would actually help amplify his voice. But even though he was easily heard and seen – he wasn’t actually easy to get to. Instead, Jesus was at a distance – and in the words of John Proctor, that shows how parables are always “a little harder to get ahold of.” 

And that to me – that inability to fully grasp and hold onto everything within one of Jesus’ stories – is what I mean when I say that parables are weird. Yet that can also be a way we can get deeper into the story itself. When I come across a parable, I usually try to first find that odd thing – that weird thing – that shows up in Jesus’ words. The weirdness might be a word that Jesus repeats, an action by a character in the story, or maybe even the setup for the story itself. Looking for the weird can help us interpret Jesus’ words. But as I sat down to spend time with this parable this week, looking for the weird felt – weird. I don’t know about you – but weirdness seems to be having a big moment in my life right now. Six months ago, when I dreamed of the summer heat, I didn’t imagine that some of us would be spending worship outside within it. We, together, didn’t imagine that we would spend a lot of our time worshipping in our homes. None of us thought we’d have spent all the time we have thinking about shaking hands, wearing facemasks, and who to hug and who to not. The pandemic we are still living through has made our everyday life weird. And that weirdness is centered in uncertainty – that makes planning for the future really hard. I don’t know what tomorrow will look like – I know that it’s going to be weird. And that weirdness doesn’t even include the other parts of our life that are also just weird. Our health; our finances; our employment; our families; and our relationships – there’s stuff we’re carrying that is giving the rest of our life its own flavor of weird. And I don’t even have to be specific about what those things are – because they’re personal to each of us – and yet each one of us might be thinking about it right now. 

It’s weird to look for the weird in this really weird time. Yet Jesus never told us that our life wouldn’t be weird. Instead, he promised that in our baptism; in our faith; and because of him – we wouldn’t have to live through that weirdness alone. 

So what’s weird in the parable we just heard? Well – I’m not a very good gardener but even I know that throwing seed on a path or in rocky soil isn’t really the best idea. Seeds need specific things to grow – and their best chance they have is in good soil. Even though we find plants growing in the cracks of sidewalk or among weeds and thorns – we don’t usually put seeds in those places on purpose. Our goal for the seed we put in soil is for a plant to grow and flourish. As a sower, a planter of seed, we want our seed to begin in the best soil possible so that it grows. How the seed reacts to different kinds of soil as seen in our parable – none of that is really odd. Even if the crowd around Jesus was a poor gardener like myself, none of them would be surprised at the seed flourishing in good soil. Our instinct might want to imagine the ways we can be good soil for the faith God has given us. But if we stay with the weird – we see that the soil, the thorns, the rocky boulders, and the birds – do exactly what they’re supposed to do. Those are the bits of Jesus’ story that are easily grasped. Yet the sower throwing seeds with abandon – especially in places where it’s not going to thrive – now that’s downright weird. 

And that weirdness might be where God’s word is speaking to us as we through our weird. The seed is the parable is God’s word – but God’s word is always more than just words spoken a loud or read from a page. God’s Word is also God’s presence – and God’s presence is always filled with a promise. The seed God spreads with abandon – is a promise that God is always with you. You are worthy of God’s love – and God doesn’t limit how much love you are given. When God committed to you in your baptism and through faith, God did not hold back. God fully gave all that God had to you because you really do mean everything to God. 

And that commitment from God is a promise given regardless of the soil our soul currently is in. We will sometimes find ourselves feeling and embracing the presence of the divine – and will see how the presence of God is transforming our life right now. But there are other times – maybe even most of the time – when our soul is well-worn, rocky, and full of thorns. We find ourselves with a faith that’s too complacent – and when something new pops up, our only conclusion is that God must have abandoned us. Or something incredible happens and our life is suddenly filled with a passion for God – but it burns out quickly and without warning. And there are other times when the rest of our life seems to overwhelm our sense of God – and we go weeks, months, or even years not even looking for where God is. Yet through all that different soil of the soul – God’s promise to each of you never fades. God doesn’t let the weirdness of our lives or our times limit what God chooses to do. God already claimed you and me – and holds us together in a Jesus who didn’t run from the weirdness of the world but lived through it. If your soil is rocky, worn down, and full of thorns – you aren’t tilling that ground alone. Because we have been brought into the weird story of a God who loves you, and me, and the world with a love full of mercy; forgiveness; justice; and hope. That love isn’t only meant for the saints, the most faithful, and those who always get everything right. That love, instead, is for us – the imperfect; the well worn; and those who get it wrong more often than we get it right. The soil of your soul is not what makes you who you are. Instead, it’s the truth that Jesus loves you – even through your weird. No matter who you are – or what you’re going through – you aren’t there alone. Instead, you have a gardener who is tending to you – and he will bring you through. 

Amen.

“Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me. Whoever welcomes a prophet in the name of a prophet will receive a prophet’s reward, and whoever welcomes a righteous person in the name of a righteous person will receive the reward of the righteous, and whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple—truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.”

Matthew 10:40-42 (NRSVue)

My sermon from the 4th Sunday after Pentecost Sunday (June 28, 2020) on Matthew 10:40-42.

---

So I want to start today by asking all of us to notice what’s happening right now. Pay attention to where you’re sitting; the noises that you’re hearing; and recognize that I don’t think you’re sitting in a hard, wooden pew. For almost 4 months now, our body has experienced worship in a different way. We sat on couches, on padded chairs around kitchen tables, and maybe even outdoors on our decks. Worship has been and will be different than it used to be. But worship hasn’t only happened in our homes, online, or – now – in our church parking lots. Worship also happens in and with the bodies that we have right now. 

I know that not all of us have a very good relationship with our bodies. Many of us have been told, either directly or through advertising and our culture that our body isn’t good enough. We’re either too fat or too short; too muscular or not athletic enough. Our wider culture has thoughts about what’s possible with sex, gender, race, and what it means to be healthy. And if we don’t fit in, then we end believing that there must be something wrong with us. This wrongness becomes part of our daily routine as we step on the scale, look in the mirror, and notice that sometimes even the grocery store isn’t design for a body like ours. Bodies are complicated things – and they don’t stay the same. As a kid, our bodies grow and when we’re adult, it sometimes feels like our bodies break down. As we age and experience different health challenges, too often we don’t get to do the things we think we should do. The wrongness we might feel ends up getting bigger in our mind and we start thinking that being human means that we’re really just a mind that happens to have this body. 

But one thing I learned this week, from researcher and author Hillary McBride, is that being human is a very body based experience. And one way we see that is by looking at the amount of messages that pass from our brain to our body. Those messages are impulses transmitted by neurons through our nervous system. These messages regular our heart while also making us more comfortable as we settle back into our chair. Our brain is very busy telling our body a lot of things. But our body is actually telling our brain so much more. For every one impulse from our brain down into our body, our body is busy sending 9 messages to our brain. We want to believe and act as if being human is mostly just a top-down experience. But our body shows that being human really happens from the bottom up. 

Today’s reading from the gospel according to Matthew wraps up the teaching we’ve been listening to these last few weeks. Jesus had gathered together his imperfect disciples – the ones who would eventually deny him, betray him, and abandon him on the Cross – and he told them to go out and do the things Jesus did. They would share Jesus while also living out what it means for the kingdom of God to come near. That experience of living as followers of Jesus would involve a lot of bodies. The disciples were called to heal bodies; to cast out demons from bodies; and to use their own bodies as bearers of the good news of Jesus Christ. Jesus’ guidance to them included words on what they would carry on their bodies and how their bodily existence would rely on the hospitality of others. This journey was not one without any risk. And so Jesus told them that their words might end up breaking the incarnational relationships of families and households. Yet he also promised that the breaking or breaking down of their bodies would not mean that God loved them any less. In fact, God was already with them exactly as they are. God wasn’t waiting for the disciples to be the best, most beautiful, and most faithful versions of who they thought they should. God knew they wouldn’t be perfect. But God did want them to trust that even now, they were loved. And that love – that connection – and that relationship to Jesus changes everything. 

Now we might imagine that this connection to Jesus sort of stays up here. But faith isn’t always stuck in our heads. Instead, there’s an experience of faith that bubbles up from the bottom. That kind of faith is grounded in our encounters with others because we live in a world full of people who are not us. Our spouses are not us. Our children are definitely not us. And even our best friends who we’ve known our entire lives are still not us. We, as individuals, are unique in our own ways. Yet each of us are beloved children of God – who encounter God daily in amazing, but sometimes hidden, ways. We need each other to point out the ways God has shown up in our lives. We need each other to be that different kind of voice that reminds us we are beautifully and wonderfully made. We need each other to offer a supporting hand that will do something hard like giving us a cup of cold water on a hot summer day. And we need each other to show us that the life we live – a life we tell us ourselves that we are not enough – is a life that is valued by God and that we are worth God’s love. 

And maybe that’s one of the reasons why we, together, are more than just a church. We are also part of the body of Christ. In your baptism and in your faith, you were united with a Jesus who is still active in the world. The words he gave to his disciples 2000 years ago are still words meant for us. Faith isn’t supposed to stay in our heads. Faith is also lived out loud – and that living happens from the bottom up. Through Jesus and his body in the world, we are reminded that we matter to God. And since we do matter to God, we are also called to go out and participate in what Jesus is already doing in the world. Jesus continues to find new ways to show us that our bodies – exactly as they are – can still bear God’s love into the world. We don’t have to wait to be the most perfect version of ourselves before we fully follow Jesus. We can, instead, just be us. We, who are too short, can pray big prayers. We, who feel as if our body is breaking down, can cook a meal to build other bodies up. We, who live in a world where certain bodies do not matter, can reach out and tell others that they are loved. And each one of us can do the hard work of making sure that our communities, our towns, and our neighborhoods are places where all bodies thrive. This bottom-to-top way of living in the world is something that we get to do because Jesus has included us – every part of us – into his holy body. You are valued. You are important. You who is viewed as imperfect in the eyes of the world – is still, in Christ, holy and loved. Let us, together, use our bodies to make Jesus’ body real in our world.

Amen.