Author: MASadmin

1 A soft answer turns away wrath,
but a harsh word stirs up anger.
2 The tongue of the wise adorns knowledge,
but the mouths of fools pour out folly.
3 The eyes of the Lord are in every place,
keeping watch on the evil and the good.
4 A gentle tongue is a tree of life,
but perverseness in it breaks the spirit.
5 A fool despises a parent’s instruction,
but the one who heeds admonition is prudent.
6 In the house of the righteous there is much treasure,
but trouble befalls the income of the wicked.
7 The lips of the wise spread knowledge;
not so the minds of fools.
8 The sacrifice of the wicked is an abomination to the Lord,
but the prayer of the upright is his delight.
9 The way of the wicked is an abomination to the Lord,
but he loves the one who pursues righteousness.

Proverbs 15:1-9

My sermon from the 14th Sunday after Pentecost/Holy Cross Sunday (September 14, 2025) on Proverbs 15:1-9.

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Earlier this week, a poll was published that asked 18-29 year olds their thoughts about success. Over 30,000 adults were invited to pick 3 out of thirteen phrases that defined what success looked like to them. These words ranged from “being financially independent,” to “having no debt,” and to “making your family or community proud.” Then, with all that information gathered, the pollsters shared which phrases mattered to people from a variety of backgrounds. Out of the thirteen options, the one at the bottom was a need to be influential and famous. The generation that grew up with social media has no real desire to be recognized while walking down the street. They also don’t imagine success having anything to do with retiring earlier since, I think, a lot of people assume that option will never exist for them. We might assume that most of us have a similar definition of what success is supposed to look like. But as we moved up the list for these 18-29 year olds, what success looked like changed depending on which sub-group they belonged to. For some men having children, achieving financial independence, and being married are a big part of what it means to be successful. Yet for women, having children and experiencing matrimony are way down on the list. There was, for some people, a deep desire to use their talents to help those around them. And for others, an expensive housing market makes owning a home less important than maintaining some emotional stability. How people ranked these different aspects of success could have laid out a roadmap of what a successful life would look like. Yet the old idea of starting a career, getting married, buying a home, and then having kids was – for most – completely out of order. The image of success other generations developed, embraced, and passed on wasn’t necessarily reflected in the definition these 18-29 year olds were actively living out. And that’s because what’s wise to us might not be wise to those who come after us. Realizing might be hard for some of us to accept. But rather than wondering what’s wrong with kids these days, we might want to ask deeper questions about how wisdom shapes the life God wants us to live. 

Now we started our journey through this wisdom last week by opening up the book of Proverbs. This book is, to me, kind of like a soundtrack for our lives since these short phrases become the lyrics and music that guides the choices we make. The initial audience for Proverbs was originally sons from wealthy families who were about to enter some kind of government service. Yet the need to grow in wisdom is something all of us are called to do. Not everything we consider to be wisdom, though, comes from our Bible. And so I invited you last week to take a moment and write down what things others have passed down to you. A few of you did touch on faith – sharing that “mom always said ‘treat others as you would like to be treated’ and how “letting go – and letting God” is a helpful corrective whenever we try to micromanage our lives.  “A winner never quits and a quitter never wins” is something I’m sure football coaches all over the country said this weekend. And learning how to “control what you can control” is something I continue to work on. Putting “one foot in front of the other,” “think before you act,” and “you make your bed, you sleep in it” remind us of the impact our words and actions always have. And I appreciate the one who wrote “check the door knob” since it’s so easy to assume the solution to every problem has to be hard. This wisdom was a gift from those we trusted – and those who we admired – serving as a guide to light our way through every joy and challenge that comes our way. And while wisdom should guide us into a more life-giving future, that isn’t the only path we can take. The book of Proverbs recognizes how our choices, actions, what we choose to pay attention to, and what we ignore often shapes what comes next. And when we put our trust in anything other than grace, mercy, and God – our fears will tear us down. Proverbs uses a lot of two line verses to invite us into a different kind of future that won’t necessarily be easy or full of peace and comfort. Yet this other future trusts that God’s way is the only Way that can carry us through. So throughout the book of Proverbs, this wisdom is fleshed out in words we’re invited to embrace. We’re asked to recognize how “a soft answer turns away wrath but a harsh word stirs up anger.” When we choose to let “a gentle tongue [be] a tree [for] life” rather than letting our words bite and harm, we allow God’s spirit rather than our own spirit shape every relationship we have. What we say, post, and share should be a kind of knowledge building others up rather than simply existing to tear them down. And that’s because God’s wisdom isn’t meant to only stay on the page. It is, rather, lived out through the interactions we have with everyone God brings our way. We often assume the good we share should feel spontaneous and be incredibly easy to do. But God’s way often requires us to make hard choices so that love, welcome, and inclusion are always at the heart of what we say and do. God’s way isn’t always the easiest way because we need to be held accountable for the various ways we put pride, wealth, comfort, and ideology before everything else. And while we often long for the kind of success that will give us peace for all of our days, the only thing that will – is a God who refuses to let the Crosses we build for ourselves and others be the end to the story. 

Now I know not all of us are 18 to 29 years old but I wonder if we might take the next few moments and write down our own views about success. On the back of your bulletin are three questions and you can also write down your answers as comments on facebook and youtube. What does success look like to you? Is it having a fulfilling career, a large family, a life that impacts others, or a bank account full of all kinds of money? Our  vision of success is often reflected in the rules we grew up with so did you have to do your homework right after school, read for 30 minutes every night, head to college, or clean your plate at every meal? And finally, what wisdom do you share with all the young people around you? What goals, practices, and ways of being in the world do you think will help them shape the future they want for themselves? We’re going to take the next three or four minutes to answer these questions and write those answers down before moving onto the song. And while the wisdom we were given might have brought us to where we are today, we can also trust  that God’s wisdom will always do so much more. 

⁸ Hear, my child, your father’s instruction,
    and do not reject your mother’s teaching,
⁹ for they are a fair garland for your head
    and pendants for your neck.
¹⁰ My child, if sinners entice you,
    do not consent.
¹¹ If they say, “Come with us, let us lie in wait for blood;
    let us wantonly ambush the innocent;
¹² like Sheol let us swallow them alive
    and whole, like those who go down to the Pit.
¹³ We shall find all kinds of costly things;
    we shall fill our houses with spoil.
¹⁴ Throw in your lot among us;
    we will all have one purse”—
¹⁵ my child, do not walk in their way;
    keep your foot from their paths,
¹⁶ for their feet run to evil,
    and they hurry to shed blood.
¹⁷ For in vain is the net baited
    while the bird is looking on;
¹⁸ yet they lie in wait—to kill themselves!
    and set an ambush—for their own lives!
¹⁹ Such is the end of all who are greedy for gain;
    it takes away the life of its possessors.

Proverbs 1:8-19

My sermon from the 13th Sunday after Pentecost (September 7, 2025) on Proverbs 1:8-19.

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If there was a soundtrack for your life, what songs would be on it? 

Now there was a time when music was a way bigger part of my life. I spent many nights standing in the poorly lit basement of a bakery while listening to bands I had never heard of before. Leaving that space with a handful of grainy photos on a dented digital camera while holding a physical CD was complete bliss. And that’s because music has a way of defining the different parts of our life. These songs can help us process, hold, and live through experiences filled with incredible joys and devastating heartbreak. And it’s also kind of neat that when we find ourselves living through a current moment that reminds us of our past, this soundtrack from our life can suddenly pop up and influence what we do next. Taking a moment to recognize how music shapes who we are by connecting us to our past, our present, and our future – gives us a taste of how the book of Proverbs – and all of the other Wisdom literature in our Bible – is meant to function in our lives. Faith is always more than something we have or believe. It is, instead, a kind of force, energy, a gift, and a way of being that impacts every moment of our lives. Our relationship with God speaks into the joys and challenges shaping who we get to be. And while trusting the Jesus who lived, died, and rose for you and the world really is the foundation of our Christian identity; we often also need ideas, stories, songs, and practical how-tos to help live that faith out loud. The books of Proverbs, Job, and Ecclesiastes are one of the ways God provides that help for us. These books can never give us an exact response for every situation we end up living through. But they do act as a kind of soundtrack we lean into, giving us a sense of security during all the insecurity life brings. 

Now the book of Proverbs is, primarily, a composite text – weaving together material developed in different times and different places. Some of these words were probably first uttered two hundred years before David became king around the year 1000 BCE. Yet others – and final editing done to this book – might not have occurred until around 175 BCE. Almost 1000 years of life show up within Proverbs’ pages. And this book chooses to take this life and turn it into a lot of two line poetic verses to help those listening make the right decisions for their lives. These two line verses are typically shared as a kind of parallelism with the second line restating the first line in a slightly different way. But there are also lots of times when the second line challenged what the first line said, inviting us to recognize what is good and what isn’t. This poetry, though, isn’t always straightforward, often putting words out of order, leaving out verbs, and inserting random adjectives as a way to encourage us to puzzle over its meanings. And that’s because proverbs, like music and songs, choose to speak into our lives that have their own histories, stories, and experiences. Proverbs recognizes itself as a guide providing tools we can apply to the various situations we face. But when it was first written, Proverbs imagined itself as primarily a book for the learned, the educated, the rich, and the powerful living in ancient Israel. It assumed those hearing these words were sons leaving their family to take up some kind of government job. But the book also knows that growing in wisdom is a journey meant for all and that this journey never ends. Our moral and ethical values are always lived out regardless of how “good” we claim to be. And real wisdom comes with the “[w]illingness to accept correction, regardless of age or status.” Proverbs, then, chose to introduce itself in our reading today as a kind of parent – or teacher – telling a child – or a student – what God’s wisdom looks like. What God offers is a way of being in the world that is less about what you have – such as your status, your money, your intelligence, and your opinion of yourself – and is more about who God knows you can be. When we lean into something other than our God, we will be consumed by something that can never give us life. We have a responsibility to turn away from greed and the hoarding of wealth, power, and love. Instead, the soundtrack God wants for our lives is a song that does not withhold any good from whoever God brings our way. 

And so – as we begin this sermon series on God’s wisdom – I wonder if you might share a bit of wisdom someone gave you. What did a beloved parent, guardian, or parental figure give you that still lingers in your soul? When you face a particular challenge – what lyric buzzes through your mind which helps you breathe deep before you say something you regret? And when you’re faced with a choice that has only bad answers, what word points you towards hope and grace? Maybe it’s something as simple as “look both ways before you cross the street” which reminds you to not jump feet first before you examine all your options. Maybe you like to say “the Lord willing and the creek don’t rise” since we know how often our plans go awry. Phrases like “all hat and no cattle,” “an apple a day keeps the doctor away,” and “don’t put all your eggs in one basket” are the songs that shape the choices we make. And this wisdom was given to us as a guide for a future that those who came before us wouldn’t get to see. It is through the grace of God we have the opportunity to create, share, and pass down all kinds of wisdom too. So on the back of your bulletin, I’d like you to take time during the rest of worship to write down the wisdom you carry with you and drop it in the basket in the narthex. For those at home, leave a comment on facebook or youtube about all the wisdom others gave you. This wisdom matters because it speaks into the life you’ve lived. Yet it also shows why God’s wisdom – which isn’t always our wisdom – has its own value too. And that’s because God not only chose to be with you, to teach you, and to guide your way. God also chose to live as you and show the fullness of what our lives get to be. 

Amen.

⁷ When [Jesus] noticed how the guests chose the places of honor, he told them a parable. ⁸ “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, ⁹ 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. ¹⁰ 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. ¹¹ For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”

¹² 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 and sisters or your relatives or rich neighbors, in case they may invite you in return, and you would be repaid. ¹³ But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind. ¹⁴ And you will be blessed because they cannot repay you, for you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.”

Luke 14:1,7-14

My sermon from the 12th Sunday after Pentecost (August 31, 2025) on Luke 14:1,7-14.

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Tyler Yan is a stay-at-home dad and tiktoker who regularly posts videos of what he makes for his daughter’s lunch. Each video begins with a focused shot on an empty metal bento box sitting on a white kitchen counter waiting to be filled. As a person who has been making school lunches for years, I’m always looking for ways to spice up what my kids bring to school. But what Tyler puts in his kid’s lunch box puts my lunch making skills to shame. I’d like to share with you a short list of some of the recent lunches he’s posted on Tiktok. A few days ago, he packed for his daughter some herb baked salmon over sesame rice with sliced cucumbers, edamame, yellow dragon fruit, and half an avocado on the side. Prior to that, she feasted on a wagyu burger with caramelized onions, mushrooms, and swiss cheese on a gluten-free bun. Last week, the bento box was packed with an arugula salad under some filet mignon and included jasmine rice, shitake mushrooms, and a little gourmet chocolate for dessert. But my personal favorite was the fish tacos made out of fresh fried snapper with mango coleslaw, cilantro lime rice, and a side of freshly cut dragonfruit for dessert. Each lunch looks like a literal piece of art and you can almost taste it off the screen. Yet what I also really enjoy the most about these videos are all the comments people leave. Unlike the rest of the internet, the vast majority of those words are extremely positive, celebrating the food he made. And one thing I think is very cool is how many simply post a question wondering if they could become one of his daughters too. The beauty, grace, and joy at his table make all kinds of people want to be a part of it. And that makes sense because the meals we share are about more than simply giving our body the nutrients it needs to survive. Meals are events where care is offered, love is shared, and where people who don’t always see eye-to-eye with one another have to sit down together and chew. We want to be at the table where good meals are found. And in today’s reading from the gospel according to Luke, Jesus invites us to remember how being at God’s table changes every other table we have. 

Now the meal Jesus was invited to probably resembled the kind of dinner parties popular in the Greco-Roman world at the time. The first order of business when guests arrived was for the lowest person on the social totem poll to wash their feet. That person might have been a servant, a slave, or one of the host’s younger children. And once the dirt, dust, and grime was wiped away, everyone would be invited to take their seat. Those seats, though, wouldn’t be chairs since the ancient Mediterranean world was all about stretching out on something resembling a chaise lounge. These couches were arranged at the center of the room within easy access to individual tables, trays, or a long plank where food would be placed. One thing that made these couches different, though, was they weren’t designed to seat only one. Each couch had space for three or four people to recline. Folks would lean on their left elbow and contort their body so their right hand could grab food while their feet pointed away from one another. During the meal, the enslaved or servants or maybe some of the hosts’ youngest daughters would be busy picking up plates, filling glasses, and making sure none of the food ran out. And that’s because this meal wasn’t designed to go fast. It was a long, slow event where everyone could be seen. 

Now it wasn’t enough to simply be at the party; everyone needed to see that you were there. Whenever Jesus or anyone else drew near, it was even expected for the neighbors to look out their window to see who was on the guestlist. These guests, though, weren’t only there to be noticed; they also had a lot people watching to do on their own. Paying attention to who was talking to whom, where people were sitting, who was in that room with and who wasn’t helped people recognize how other people saw them. And when they took their seats, where they sat in relation to the host of the party reflected their social status and prestige. Those nearest the host would, most likely, be the rich, the successful, those with power, those who we’d like to be, and those who the host wanted to impress. Getting on their good side was important because they were the ones who might give them a job, join in on some financial endeavor, or offer some kind of gift that would make other people feel jealous since the so-called “right kind of people” knew their name. Who we’re with often determines how much admiration, care, and attention other people give. And in a world where how others saw you determined your worth, being seen reclining on the right couch really mattered. Who you lounged with influenced what your tomorrow might be. And if you claimed a spot others felt you didn’t deserve, the harm to your reputation would last for a long time. We might think that, today, we’re beyond this kind of behavior. But all we need to do is turn on our tv and open up our social media feeds to see how much we care about being seen. For some, it’s more important to be seen as strong rather than having the character, integrity, and values that make us strong in the first place. Others care so much about being liked by the right kind of people and disliked by those they despise that they let their perspective determine their truths rather than letting the truth shape who they choose to be. When we assume we can look at someone and without hearing their story decide they’re unworthy to be at our table, we make our world incredibly small. And when we act as if every one of our moments are picture perfect; that we are always at the top of our game; and that the only thing we do in life is win – the reality we actually move through is completely pretend. When we let our worth, value, and sense of self be defined primarily by what others see, then our life doesn’t belong to us. Now Jesus, at that dinner party 2000 years ago, could have told the host, the guests, and everyone in that room that their worth was primarily defined by the love God already had for them. But instead of telling them who they are, he invited them to change their lives by living as if everyone truly mattered to God. We don’t have to live as if being seen is what makes our life worth living. We can, instead, just be and notice how expansive God’s love always is. When we intentionally expand our guest list and choose to not think too highly of ourselves; when we let others sit in the places where we want to be and focus on the care we can give; it’s at those moments when this life becomes our own. Integrity, honesty, humility, and grace are a big part of how life should be lived. And when embrace them, the meal God has already set for us comes clearer into view. It’s through baptism, the gift of faith, and those times when Jesus became real to you – when we notice the place at the table God has made for us. And this place isn’t in the back or off to the side or even below those folks we know are way more faithful than we could ever be. The seat God has given to you is at the table where the Son of God sits. The desire to be seen will always be very hard for us to shake but trust that you are worth way more than the amazing – and not so amazing – lunches you get to serve. God’s table is big enough to include folks like you. And so we, in response, can make our own meals and our own tables bigger so that they better reflect who our God chooses to be. 

Amen.

¹⁰ Now he was teaching in one of the synagogues on the Sabbath. ¹¹ 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. ¹² When Jesus saw her, he called her over and said, “Woman, you are set free from your ailment.” ¹³ When he laid his hands on her, immediately she stood up straight and began praising God. ¹⁴ 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.” ¹⁵ 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 to water? ¹⁶ 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?” ¹⁷ When he said this, all his opponents were put to shame, and the entire crowd was rejoicing at all the wonderful things being done by him.

Luke 13:10-17

My sermon from the 11th Sunday after Pentecost (August 24, 2025) on Luke 13:10-17.

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One of the interesting things about having the same cell phone number I signed up for my freshman year of college is that most people don’t know what to do when a random 607 number shows up on their phone. The people who don’t have me saved in their contacts usually respond in two ways. First, I’ll be immediately sent to voicemail where I leave a message I hope doesn’t sound as awkward to them as it does to me. The second way folks respond, which happens way less, is they actually pick up and begin with a “hello” that feels like a question and an accusation all at the same time. They assume the number labeled “Binghamton, New York” interrupting their day must be some kind of scam. And with that one word, we sum up our collective angst, frustration, and unhappy acceptance that being negatively interrupted is simply a part of life. Every time we sit down, take a breath, or pick up a book, there’s always a dog that needs to be walked, a cat who wants to be fed, a child asking us what their favorite youtube video is to call, and a series of notifications from countless apps telling us to get up, sit down, buy something, or to watch this video designed to make our blood boil. Our attention and focus are a currency that’s always in circulation and there’s someone or thing promising their interruption will be the one that finally makes us whole and complete. Some days, all we want is a few moments for our soul to be completely undivided and directed towards what we’re supposed to do. But then a presence, a vibe, or a person interrupts us and we suddenly discover we are made for so much more. 

I like to imagine today’s reading from the gospel according to Luke to be a kind of interruption within an interruption. Jesus’ climatic journey from Galilee to Jerusalem brought him into towns and villages where his mere presence interrupted their daily life. All of the sudden, their curiosity, their questions, their conflicts, and their needs came pouring out. When the kingdom of God shows up, life happens. And it was during weekly sabbath worship in a synagogue when an unnamed woman walked in while Jesus was speaking. Now it was a tradition for communities in Jesus’ day to invite religious leaders and traveling rabbis to read a piece of scripture and offer their own teaching and interpretation during worship. Unlike other stories in Luke, we’re not told which piece of scripture Jesus read out loud or what, exactly, he was teaching. What we hear instead is how a woman’s presence interrupted him. She is, from our perspective, a bit of a mystery. We don’t know her name, her age, if she had a family or if she spent her days begging for food in the marketplace. We don’t even know what caused her to be bent though some biblical commentators speculate the bones in her spine fused together, leading to long years spent stiff, exhausted, and in chronic pain. The life she lived could have been incredibly isolating as she managed her condition as well as dealing with those who acted as if she had brought all of this onto herself. The more bent her body became, the smaller her world grew and I wish we heard what was going through her mind when she went to worship that day. Did she know Jesus would be there? Was she frustrated by how late she knew she would be since her body moved so slow? Did she almost give up going to synagogue at all? Or was it a community that felt like home since the text doesn’t act as if people were surprised, angry, or upset that she was there? We have no idea if she came to worship that day expecting her life to be interrupted. But when Jesus saw her – her presence interrupted whatever he was about to say. And he could do nothing less than notice her, pay attention, discern her entire story, and interrupt her life with compassion, hope, and love. 

Yet it’s at that moment when the grumbling started. It appeared a religious leader and probably others within the community weren’t thrilled with what they just saw. Now the healing wasn’t the issue. Rather, what bothered them was when the healing happened. I’ll admit that sounds a little weird but I also think we should give the grumblers a little slack. They had, faithfully and spiritually, come up with a rhythm for the sabbath that interrupted their ordinary day. Instead of being in the field, the marketplace, or out in a boat catching some fish, they were spending time away from what they usually do to listen to God and to one another. The sabbath, then, was a moment when the regular interruptions of our lives were pushed aside so our undivided attention could be directed towards the One who made us, loves us, and who is always with us. What the grumblers imagined the Sabbath did was interrupt our interruptions so we could just be. The Sabbath was a break from our  so-called “normal” but it wouldn’t, necessarily, interrupt things as they already were. Jesus, however, saw the Sabbath as something more. It isn’t merely a rest or a pause to help us manage everything that comes next. The sabbath is an interruption meant to break through everything that doesn’t give us life. When God paused during the story of creation, God wasn’t merely taking a breath before getting back to doing what God always does. Instead, God was inserting into the world a promise that you are always more than what you do. You are not only what happens to do you. And your illness, your schedule, your situation, your condition, and all the interruptions that take you out of your life is not the limit of who you are. You are a beloved child of God, created to be known, seen, and loved. And the sabbath is for you in ways the rest of the week is not. Now experiencing the Sabbath might require us to purposefully stop what we’re doing instead of seeing this day as an opportunity to do some yardwork or start one more load of laundry. But this could also be a moment when we choose to not let our interruptions interrupt the gifts God has given us. We can let the Sabbath be a picture for what life can be and wonder what kind of interruptions we – and those around us – need to break the pain, suffering, anger, and loneliness that does its best to consume us. The Sabbath is meant to be a moment of compassion and care that does more than simply prepare us for the week that comes. It, instead, transforms it because God’s love for you changes everything into something new. We don’t always know when a phone call or a notification or an event or an experience or when a million other things will suddenly interrupt our day. But we can embrace the interruption God gives us in the Sabbath because wholeness is God’s wish for you and for the world. Life isn’t meant to exhaust us nor are we called to exhaust and use up the lives of those around us. Instead, God’s mercy and hope interrupts all our lives so that we can discover just how life-giving we can be. 

Amen.

⁴⁹ “I have come to cast fire upon the earth, and how I wish it were already ablaze! ⁵⁰ I have a baptism with which to be baptized, and what constraint I am under until it is completed! ⁵¹ Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division! ⁵² From now on five in one household will be divided, three against two and two against three; ⁵³ 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.”
⁵⁴ 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. ⁵⁵ And when you see the south wind blowing, you say, ‘There will be scorching heat,’ and it happens. ⁵⁶ 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?

Jesus 12:49-56

My sermon from the 10th Sunday after Pentecost (August 17, 2025) on Luke 12:32-40.

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I haven’t been able to visit the shore very often this summer but I recently stood on the Ocean City boardwalk when a thunderstorm rolled in. It was early in the evening so most people had already left the beach and returned to find dinner or visit the amusement park. The increasing cloud cover as well as the setting of the sun made the air feel eerie when the street lights unexpectedly turned on. I couldn’t really tell which way the clouds were moving and so my youngest and I joined everyone who were waiting to be entertained for thirty seconds at a time by a variety of mechanical rides. It was long, though, before a light drizzle signaled what was already on its way. After a few rights, I convinced her to take the festivities to an indoor arcade since I suspected that the nearby lighting strikes might force the amusement park to close for the night. I assumed it was going to pour at any moment but, luckily, most of the storm stayed to the north. When it was finally time to head back to where we were staying, the northern sky was lit up with all kinds of flashes of light as a giant cloud moved out over the ocean. Storms have a way of disrupting our plans and our expectations. And yet they’re also kind of necessary to make sure all plants, animals, and even human beings have the water they need to survive. The presence of storms along the horizon often shape the lives we get to live. And I wonder if Jesus’ words today from the gospel according to Luke were meant to show us how Jesus’ presence is its own kind of storm that transforms who we get to be in the world. 

Now I’ll admit that Jesus’ words today aren’t the ones we paint on a piece of reclaimed wood and hang in our family room. It’s pretty hard to faithfully connect the Jesus we call Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, King of Kings, and the Prince of Peace with the One who also promises division and pain. The church has for a long time struggled with this passage and even Ambrose, the Bishop of Milian 1600 years ago, wrote “are we to believe that [Jesus] has commanded discord within families? …How does [this Jesus] say, ‘My peace I give to you, my peace I leave with you,’ if he has come to separate [children] from [parents] and [parents] from [children]…” We have, over the centuries, either ignored passages like this or used them to attack those we disagree with. And there are plenty of folks in our own country today who relish these words since they think they’re the ones who won’t get burnt. When it comes to our own practices of faith, we prefer a Jesus who is a little more graceful, comfortable, and caring. We need a Jesus who overcomes the divisions of our world and who gives us a sense of calm when our lives come tumbling down. When things are truly difficult and hard, the Jesus we pray to pats us on the back, holds us, blesses us, and knows we’ve truly tried our best. The One we turn to in our private and public devotions isn’t the One who splits families apart. And so what can we do with the Jesus who acts as if he’s a storm breaking into our lives and our world? 

It’s possible, though, that this metaphor of a storm actually helps reveal a little bit of what Jesus was trying to say. Over these last few weeks, we’ve heard him share a variety of stories, parables, and teachings during his climactic journey from Galilee to Jerusalem. Some of his words were shared with those who begged him to intervene on their behalf while others were mostly curious and simply wanted to know how to pray. Jesus regularly talked about our need to be generous, inviting us to see God moving in our world, and inviting us to let compassion guide what we say and do. But making the time to follow Jesus isn’t easy since our possessions, our greed, our desire for comfort, our lust for power, and our lack of imagination often gets in the Way. Yet the God who is willing to show up in our lives and in our world is always going to be a disruptive act. Every healing and all the ways Jesus let those around him know they are seen and loved interrupts the limits we place on our lives and on our world. Jesus, then, really is his own kind of storm – a storm of grace, mercy, and hope that changes our expectations and assumptions. His presence will always upend the ways we let faith, culture, and tradition decide who matters and who doesn’t. As much as we’d like Jesus to bring about a kind of peace triumphing over all the division in our world, we – I think – are the ones who chose to remain divided since the status quo gives us a sense of purpose, status, and control. Being divided lets us assume that God’s promises are really only for the very few. And so we hoard what we have; marginalize those we don’t understand; and act as if other people are the sinners while we are saints who just occasionally make a few mistakes. Jesus’s words, then, are a kind of proclamation of holy frustration with the lives we choose to live. But it’s also a kind of promise that knows this isn’t the limit of what life can be about. Since we are loved; since we are part of God’s holy family; and because we are worthy of a God willing to live, love, die, and rise again – we get to push through our divisions and towards a more eternal unity where mercy and forgiveness is at the center of who we are. 

The fire Jesus described was less hellfire and more a refining fire – the kind blacksmiths use to turn rock into a strong and precious metal. It’s the kind of fire Mary, Jesus’ mother, sang out loud with the promise that Jesus’ presence will scatter the proud and fill the hungry with good things. John the Baptist, when he baptized Jesus, noted how his presence will divide us from our self-centeredness and towards each other with a deep love and care. And it’s this same fire that fueled the long list of faithful ancestors sketched out in our reading from Hebrews who served God and their neighbor during times that were uncomfortable, challenging, and required them to imagine life beyond the status quo. They lit fires of love in big and small ways that pushed back the cloud of gloom and hatred which always try to divide us. They are part of the great cloud of witnesses which include those who’ve personally fed our faith and souls. What made each of them stand apart was the way they chose to be like Jesus and show us what a storm full of God’s love will always do. And while it isn’t always easy to figure out exactly what this kind of storm looks like, the holy fires of love will always save the weak, support the orphan, make a difference in the lives of those we declare to be our enemies, and are the sacrifices we make so everyone in need can thrive. This work we do will never be perfect and we won’t always get it right. But Jesus trusts this is something we can do since through Him, in Him, and because of Him, we are a part of that great cloud of witnesses showing everyone what a holy storm of mercy, compassion, and love can do in our own lives and in our world. 

Amen. 

³² “Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom. ³³ 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. ³⁴ For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

³⁵ “Be dressed for action and have your lamps lit; ³⁶ 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. ³⁷ 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. ³⁸ If he comes during the middle of the night or near dawn and finds them so, blessed are those slaves.

³⁹ “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. ⁴⁰ You also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an hour you do not expect.”

Luke 12:32-40

My sermon from the 9th Sunday after Pentecost (August 10, 2025) on Luke 12:32-40.

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One of the stories I shared with my children this week was what flying was like before every seat included its own TV screen and every hand had a smartphone or tablet. There was a time when our entertainment was primarily whatever book, newspaper, or crossword puzzle we brought with us. If our flight was long or fancy, we could fight for an aisle seat to watch a faded out movie projected onto a small pull-down screen at the far end of the plane. We didn’t get to pick the movie and our over-the-ear headphones didn’t always plug in easily into our armrest. And if the snack cart was in the aisle or there were folks standing in the aisle waiting for the bathroom, we missed seeing whatever happened on the screen. We might also choose on the flight to do a little work using paper or notepads, sleep, or even chat with the person sitting next to us. But I spent most of the time as a passenger on a plane simply bored for hours at a time. This boredom, though, wasn’t awful since we got to be part of a  temporary community who could be bored together. And being together while so many others worked to bring us to our destination was a gift we didn’t always recognize. It took centuries of people investing their time, energy, imagination, success, and failures to allow two hundred people to be bored while hanging out in a thin metal cylinder 37,000 feet above the ground. Countless people we’ve never met or even seen make flying something we do. But we often struggle recognizing how taking a trip isn’t an individual event we do all on our own. Our language around taking vacations, flying, and traveling focuses primarily on what we do since it really does take a lot of work and resources to spend a few days living our life somewhere else. And while at least one of us here at CLC can fly a commercial jet, we all occasionally act as if being on a plane with others is more an inconvenience rather than a communal event. The little screens in our hands or the one in the seat in front of us that lets us pick a movie or show no one else on that plane will watch reinforces the assumption we’re merely individuals going through life on our own. And I wonder if Jesus’ words today from the gospel according to Luke are more than simply encouraging individuals to act as if our place in the kingdom of God depends on what we say and do. Instead, it’s about what we get to do since we’re already part of a community that’s so much bigger than ourselves. 

So over these last few weeks, we’ve spent time traveling with Jesus as he took the scenic route from Galilee to the city of Jerusalem. Jesus’ journey brought him into urban settings where people were excited – or nervous – to see him. He made time during his journey to teach, often using metaphors, images, and stories to upend our expectations of how the world should be. And while some of these thoughts could be really long and involved, Jesus would also use shorter phrases one-after-the-other to push us into something new. In the passage we just read, we heard God and Jesus described in multiple ways that change who we get to be in the world. It began with Jesus describing his friends as a flock. Now being a flock implies a couple of things. First, we can’t be a flock on our own. A flock requires us to be part of a group whether we realize that or not. This flock, though, isn’t merely a community bouncing around as it wanders from place to place: it is a flock with a shepherd. The Bible often uses the image of the shepherd for God or as a metaphor for how leaders should act in the world. But in Jesus’ day, shepherds were viewed with suspicion since they worked a job out in the fields that no one in so-called “right” society would ever do themselves. The shepherd for this community, though, was someone who didn’t mind getting their hands dirty while dealing with the messiness of life. This work, however, was an act of generosity since God brings us into the kingdom of God. At first glance, Jesus’ words might imply this gift comes to us after we sell our possessions and do whatever we assume a faithful person should do. Jesus’ words, however, don’t include any “scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours” kind of transaction. Instead, Jesus simply says we’re in the flock and so the selling of possessions, the giving of alms, and making sacrifices so others can thrive isn’t about gaining our place with God. It is, instead, trusting that God keeps God’s promise. This doesn’t mean, however, there won’t be times when we fear, worry, anxiety, or frustrations will make us feel as if we are unloved by God. What Jesus’ promises is that those feelings and days won’t be the limit of what it means to be with our God. The God who is willing to embrace the fullness of our lives is the same God who is already holding us in an eternal community who get to make God’s love real in our world. 

Now seeing ourselves as more than simply individuals finding our way in the world, continued in the two short parables Jesus added. In the first story, Jesus described an enslaver returning home from a party to find those he enslaved ready to serve. Even though slavery was considered normal in Jesus’ day, acting as if Jesus is the slave master in this parable isn’t easy to hold since slavery allows some to inflict violence on the bodies of so many others. Jesus’ words, though, point to the ways how Jesus’ presence can change the ways we live together. When the enslaver arrived home, he chose to do what we wouldn’t do by giving up his power to serve those at the bottom of the social ladder. They were ready not because they said the right things, prayed the right prayers, and never did anything wrong. What they did was embrace Jesus’ call to trust that they really were part of the kingdom of God. Living as if Jesus’ words are true is more than simply holding onto a series of beliefs swirling around in our heads. Being ready is about living as if there is always room in our lives and in our world for more hope, care, support, and love. And this is expressed through the connections that bind us to God and to one another. That doesn’t mean life is meant to be easy or that a faithful person is one who pretends as if fear, anxiety, and worry don’t make it feel as if joy has been stolen from us. But the One who has broken into our lives to show exactly how abundant, generous, and full life can be is the One who has already promised to never let us go. In your baptism, through faith, and in the grace God gives you everyday – you are more than just you. You are a beloved child of God and part of a holy community that stretches from here to beyond the stars. And while so much of our culture and what we teach our children implies how everything depends on the individual choices we make, we are part of a flock of love that is still with us even during those moments when we’re overwhelmed or completely bored. We, as individuals, are not the only things that determine what our future gets to be. Jesus reminds us that whose we are shapes who we are and that we do nothing on our own. Instead, we are wrapped up in the arms of Jesus who is taking us through the journey of life and into a more precious destination where love, grace, and hope becomes a home for us and for all.    

Amen.

¹³ Someone in the crowd said to him, “Teacher, tell my brother to divide the family inheritance with me.” ¹⁴ But he said to him, “Friend, who set me to be a judge or arbitrator over you?” ¹⁵ 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.” ¹⁶ Then he told them a parable: “The land of a rich man produced abundantly. ¹⁷ And he thought to himself, ‘What should I do, for I have no place to store my crops?’ ¹⁸ 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. ¹⁹ And I will say to my soul, Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry.’ ²⁰ 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?’ ²¹ So it is with those who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich toward God.”

Luke 12:13-21

My sermon from the 8th Sunday after Pentecost (August 3, 2025) on Luke 12:13-21.

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There are a bunch of different tricks we can use to dig deeper into the stories – the parables – Jesus shared. We can, for example, imagine the entire scene in our head, creating a visual map that lets us know who – or what – is at the center of it all. If, however, we struggle using our imagination in this way, we can choose to figure out the parts of these similar-to-the-real-world stories that feel a bit odd. Figuring that out can be difficult since what was strange to people living in ancient Israel and Palestine 2000 years ago might fly right by us. What we might do instead is pause and focus on the actual words Jesus used. We can circle all the verbs since faith, like love, is meant to be alive and so the activity within Jesus’ words can reveal how God is already moving in our world. Or we might pay attention to the pronouns – all the I’s and you’s, the he’s and she’s, the mine and theirs that serve as a window into what Jesus chose to say. These are just some of the different methods we use to enter into the stories Jesus told. And the fact we get to do this shows why Jesus used stories in the first place. The parables Jesus shared with those during his public ministry provide an opportunity for us to dwell over an extended period of time with holy words spoken by the Son of God himself. And yet I wonder if – maybe – there are times when what Jesus chose not to say also gives his words their power. 

When Jesus introduced the rich man, he invited us to let our imaginations run wild. This isn’t, I think, very hard since someone always owns way more vacation homes than we do. We’re surrounded by those who we imagine have a fancier car, a bigger house, and whose financial difficulties look nothing like our own. The rich might have their issues but the anxieties and fears that keep us awake at night are not what a truly rich person has. And that, I think, is a pretty good description for the rich man in Jesus’ story. They began with a lot – and, over time, turned that amount into so much more. His wealth, like a lot of the wealth in the ancient world, was rooted in the land itself. We’re told he had a piece of property – and the property produced abundantly. We shouldn’t assume, of course, that he worked the land himself. He already had a gaggle of merchants, employees, hired hands, and slaves doing the management and physical work for him. Those who heard this story for the first time assumed all those people were within Jesus’ words but he was completely silent about them. We don’t hear about tenants, servants, overseers, and the enslaved doing the planting, weeding, shepherding, harvesting, and selling. All we hear is about this man – whose ownership, status, and investment – gave him permission to act like he was the one who did it all. The dirt on other people’s hands and the sweat they poured into the ground was merely an extension of himself. There exists a hierarchy of worth that places those with wealth above everyone else. And that’s because we let those who make investments define what belongs to who. And so, without saying a word, every person, hardship, struggle, moment of suffering, and when someone in that field did something amazing – everyone vanished from the story because everything belonged – and was defined – by him. That’s why, I think, his inner monologue was so full of the pronouns “I” and “mine.” All he saw was the abundance of his stuff since those who generated the abundance were silent in the first place. The work of other people’s hands became his own and his only response was to wonder where he could put all he claimed to create. In his mind, the only thing there was – was him. And he lived that out by claiming a future he created, maintained, and built all on his own. 

Now if Jesus’ silence was only about the rich man’s inability to see how he was part of something so much bigger than himself, we could keep this parable safe and manageable. It was, after all, the rich man’s inner monologue which revealed how imperfect he was. When he discovered he had way more than his daily bread, he didn’t ask anyone else or even God about what he should do. The rich man’s perspective and world was so small, it didn’t have room for gratitude, thankfulness, or trust in anything else. He is, then, a template of what we shouldn’t be and we can easily check that off by including God whenever generosity comes our way. But there’s one other part of this story that Jesus is completely silent about. Nowhere in the text does he imply that the rich man gained his wealth by unjust means. That doesn’t mean his use of enslaved labor and exploitation was somehow good. Rather, the person whose world only included themselves grew their wealth by taking an initial investment and, over time, growing it into something more. As much as we’d love to win the lotto or maybe discover there really is a Nigerian prince who will give us their entire fortune, how the rich man generated their wealth matches the kind of wealth generation we practice today. We, in a multitude of ways, take money, park it in a series of investments where other people do the work, and turn it into more wealth for us. It’s a practice that shapes the investments held by our church, by the Ricci Foundation who supports our Special Gifts fund, and is even what I’m doing while planning for my far off future retirement. Taking a little today so we can create a future that is more merry and bright doesn’t feel as if it should be something God would declare silly and foolish. Yet Jesus, throughout the gospel according to Luke, described any kind of wealth as a – in the words of Rev. Dr. Jennifer Wyant – “barrier and a distraction to following God because it makes us focus on the wrong things.” That’s why Jesus told those with more than their daily bread they already had what all there is for them and that it would be easier for a camel to literally pass through the eye of a needle than for them to enter the kingdom of heaven. It’s why Jesus told a story about guests being invited to a banquet who refused to attend because they had lands and families to support and then told a rich young man to sell all they had and give the money to the poor if they’d wish to inherit eternal life. Like the rich man in this story – and even the brother in the crowd fighting over his inheritance – wealth can trick us into trusting that the silence at the heart of the unknowable future can be broken by what we do today. And while there is value in intentionally having, maintaining, and creating a financial floor for ourselves and others so we all can sleep silently through the night, our future isn’t as controllable as we’d like it to be. When our money, wealth, and stuff become the source of what our tomorrow might be, it doesn’t take much – an illness, a lost job, a broken relationship, an untimely death – to bring everything down. Our possessions and our wealth cannot – and will not – save us. But the God who sees you, the God who loves you, the God who is with you, and the God who – in baptism and through faith – has already built an eternal future of mercy and grace for you – will not give up on you. And while we cannot fully control what tomorrow might bring, we can trust, follow, love, serve, and choose to not let what we – and what other people – possess define us. We can, instead, seek after God’s kingdom and, in the process, show ourselves and others what it truly means to treasure God. 

Amen.

He was praying in a certain place, and after he had finished, one of his disciples said to him, “Lord, teach us to pray, as John taught his disciples.” ² So he said to them, “When you pray, say:
Father, may your name be revered as holy.
    May your kingdom come.
³     Give us each day our daily bread.
⁴     And forgive us our sins,
        for we ourselves forgive everyone indebted to us.
    And do not bring us to the time of trial.”
⁵ And he said to them, “Suppose one of you has a friend, and you go to him at midnight and say to him, ‘Friend, lend me three loaves of bread, ⁶ for a friend of mine has arrived, and I have nothing to set before him.’ ⁷ And he answers from within, ‘Do not bother me; the door has already been locked, and my children are with me in bed; I cannot get up and give you anything.’ ⁸ I tell you, even though he will not get up and give him anything out of friendship, at least because of his persistence he will get up and give him whatever he needs.
⁹ “So I say to you, Ask, and it will be given to you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you. ¹⁰ For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened. ¹¹ Is there anyone among you who, if your child asked for a fish, would give a snake instead of a fish? ¹² Or if the child asked for an egg, would give a scorpion? ¹³ If you, then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!”

Luke 11:1-13

My sermon from the 7th Sunday after Pentecost (July 27, 2025) on Luke 11:1-13.

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8 days ago, my family and I attended a memorial for a friend who passed away last year. Seth was an amazing person who knew practically everyone which is why his remembrance was being held in a theater in Brooklyn. The event began with a heartfelt welcome from his wife who planned to share more words later on. But before we could hear stories and reflections from those who knew him best, we were first invited to please stand up. Now one of the things to know about Seth is that he was a professional clown. He and his wife spent over two decades performing in circuses, at street festivals, and dazzling audiences all over the world with incredible sold out shows. They never wore full clown makeup and preferred using acrobatics, props, whimsy, and humor to bring joy to others. In the years immediately after the US invasion of Afghanistan in 2002, Seth had organized and created a home-grown circus that traveled from village to village through the war-torn countryside. The work he and others did empowered individuals to claim their humanity in the face of all kinds violence, suffering, and sorrow. It’s a circus that is still active today even after the Taliban returned to power. And many of the acts and routines Seth brought to life are still going strong. So we, at the memorial, began the event by doing – together – the circus’ warm-up routine. I’m going to do my best to replicate it now and – if you’d like – feel free to stand up and do it with me. We begin by taking our right arm and slowly sort of punch the air while counting: 1…2…3…4…5…6…7…8…9…10. Make sure to keep the rhythm steady and try really hard to not speed up. We then switch and do the same thing with our left: 1…2…3…4…5…6…7…8…9…10. Next, we kick out with our right leg: 1…2…3…4…5…6…7…8…9…10. And then we do the same with our left: 1…2…3…4…5…6…7…8…9…10. With our limbs feeling loose, we now do our whole body at the same time: 1…2…3…4…5…6…7…8…9…10. I think we’ve got a handle on it so let’s do the whole thing two more times – but faster. 

Right arm: 1…2…3…4…5…6…7…8…9…10. 

Left arm: 1…2…3…4…5…6…7…8…9…10. 

Right leg: 1…2…3…4…5…6…7…8…9…10. 

Left leg: 1…2…3…4…5…6…7…8…9…10. 

The body: 1…2…3…4…5…6…7…8…9…10. 

Now even faster!

Right arm: 1…2…3…4…5…6…7…8…9…10. 

Left arm: 1…2…3…4…5…6…7…8…9…10. 

Right leg: 1…2…3…4…5…6…7…8…9…10.

Left leg: 1…2…3…4…5…6…7…8…9…10. 

Everything together: 1…2…3…4…5…6…7…8…9…10. 

Congratulations. We’re ready for the circus. 

But before we rush to whatever comes next, let’s pay attention to our body and our spirit. Maybe we feel a bit looser, more relaxed, a tad silly, and even a bit surprised since we didn’t expect to see ourselves, those around us, and me up here in my alb shaking way more than we usually do on a Sunday morning. When our bodies move in an enthusastic, freeing, and unexpected way, we’re doing more than preparing ourselves for whatever might come next. We’re also opening ourselves to the possibility that the joy, laughter, fun, and hope we share with others might be available to us too. Warming ourselves up for what can be while living through everything as it truly is – empowers us to grab onto a love and grace that pushes us into something more. And I wonder if, maybe, the words we heard Jesus share were an invitation for us to do the same. Prayer doesn’t need to only be a list of complaints we make to upper management or a wishlist turning God into some kind of cosmic Santa Claus. Prayer is, instead, an opportunity to discover the God who is with us no matter what comes next. Prayer is a conversation, an experience, and an event where we get to be completely ourselves. And that’s because God has empowered us, through baptism and faith, to be authentically who we truly are. That means we get to ask and wonder, dream and imagine, complain and rage as we wonder why the beauty of life is often overcome with so much pain and sorrow. God wants us to name what breaks our heart before we downplay it by recognizing how others have it worse. God knows our prayers won’t necessarily be answered in the ways we expect and that they won’t always stay the same since life has a habit of changing our prayers while we go through so much joy and grief. Yet the God who was willing to go through Christmas and to discover what it means to be vulnerable, helpless, and to need other people’s love – is a God who wants us to realize just how known we truly are. God knows your hurts. God knows what makes you smile. God knows the anxiety that wakes you before the dawn breaks and the fears that keep you up way too late. And while our God knows all these things, that doesn’t mean God wants us to act as if some are worthy of care while others are not. God, instead, chooses to empower you to trust that you really are part of what God is doing in the world. And that, I think, is what opens us to something that is incredibly powerful and unbelievably humbling all at the same time. You, really are, loved by God  – and we, together, can become who God knows we can be. 

And so I wonder if the Lord’s prayer could be a kind of holy warmup rather than something we only say at the end of a long day. Jesus’ words invite us to recognize how we truly are rooted in something so much bigger than ourselves. No where in Jesus’ prayer does he invite us to cling to an “I” or a “me” that is entitled to God’s favor at the expense of everyone else. We, instead, are called to remember that God’s kingdom – not ours – will always be what’s holy and true. God’s kingdom is where everyone receives their daily bread and where our spiritual and material debts are forgiven, while we make sure to practice the same. And when we find ourselves living through trials and hardships that break our soul, we can remember how we are being held in an ever loving embrace that will never let us go. Keeping ourselves open to the fact that God’s love really is for us and for the world isn’t always easy which is why a little warmup is sometimes necessary for us to remember who we get to be. And while that warm up might include moving our arms, legs, and our entire body in ways that feel a bit awkward, silly, and even a little funny – we can also warm up our spirit with a prayer we say out loud or hold deeply in our hearts. The Jesus who is Emmanuel – God-with-us – is truly with you. And may he continue to empower us to live out a holy kind of grace and joy that opens us to the incredible life-giving love God offers to all. 

Amen.

³⁸ Now as they went on their way, he entered a certain village where a woman named Martha welcomed him. ³⁹ She had a sister named Mary, who sat at Jesus’s feet and listened to what he was saying. ⁴⁰ 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.” ⁴¹ But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things, ⁴² but few things are needed—indeed only one. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.”

Luke 10:38-42

My sermon from the 6th Sunday after Pentecost (July 20, 2025) on Luke 10:38-42.

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Two Saturdays ago, Oliver and I headed to the NJ Expo Center in Edison for this year’s Collect-a-con. Collect-a-con is a traveling Pokemon and Anime convention where people meet all kinds of artists, actors, and youtube streamers while buying and selling all kinds of little pieces of shiny cardboard. Since this was my first time attending the convention and there weren’t any special guests we wanted an autograph from, I figured we’d miss any line if we arrived an hour after the doors officially opened. This, though, was a mistake and when we neared the convention hall, the line of cars stretched far and wide. We decided to go the last mile by foot and so I stashed the car in a random parking lot. We weaved through busy streets, around busy warehouses, and through a dirt lot for overflow convention parking that looked like a Tetris game gone horribly wrong. As we drew closer to the expo building, we stumbled onto a line that was slowly moving forward. There was no signage or staff telling us this was how we’d get into the show but since the line was full of kids dressed in Charizard pajamas and adults wearing pirate costumes with wide brim straw hats, I figured this was it. It wasn’t long before the line stretched hundreds of people behind me and every time a new person took their place in the line, they made the “i-can’t-believe-this-is-the-line” face and heavy sigh. There was grumbling; there was complaining; and some folks even got mad at their friends for making them late. I assumed waiting in this line on this summer day would make the whole experience very painful. But then – something strange happened. I could feel – and I could sense all the frustration and annoyance; all the weeping and gnashing of teeth went away as people sort of accepted their fate. People began to laugh, joke, and share their water with complete strangers as the sun beat down. Even when the line became very weird as it zigged-zagged along walls and around semi-trucks parked in the expo center’s loading dock, no one tried to cut the line or acted as if they were entitled to being in front of everyone else. Instead this large group of kids, adults, grandparents, Evees, and Pikachus stayed fully present since they were where they were supposed to be. 

Now the story I read from the gospel according to Luke wasn’t very long but its words, especially if you have sisters or siblings, spoke volumes. Jesus, after sending his disciples out two by two to visit places he planned to go to, arrived in a village where a woman named Martha offered him hospitality. Hospitality is, in the words of Rev. Dr. Niveen Sarras, “allowing the guest to share the sacredness of the family space.” Martha knew this would include providing Jesus food, drink, and a place for him to stay. And while most of us can manage, to some degree, offering hospitality to one person who shows up at our door; the Jesus who showed up to her home came with a crowd. When Jesus shows up, an entire community comes too which can overwhelm the best of our intentions. There are those among us who make being a host appear effortless and we, as a culture, often train women to show hospitality even if that isn’t one of their gifts from God. Yet Martha refused to act as if this work doesn’t require an incredible amount of intentionally, energy, resources, and time. As she managed the flow of food and drink from kitchen to table, the busyness of welcoming others made the whole experience feel a little less peaceful than what we assume Jesus’ presence brings to our lives. And while she did what needed to be done, Martha noticed how her sister Mary wasn’t participating in the work of welcome. Mary was, instead, sitting at Jesus’ feet. That doesn’t mean, however, that Mary was being lazy since sitting at someone’s feet was one of the ways folks in the ancient world described students who were busy learning from their teachers. Mary, according to Luke, had become like all the other disciples and apostles Jesus brought into that space. While she grew in her own identity as a follower of Jesus Christ, Martha noticed something strange. The one who was supposed to be helping her in the work of welcome would need to be welcomed instead. Mary, from Martha’s perspective, had given up on the offering of hospitality which is why Martha embraced the ancient art of trying to use indirect speech to get her way. But Jesus, rather than pushing Mary out of the work she was currently doing, invited Martha to pause and embrace the hospitality the Son of God had already extended to her. 

This is different, I think, than Jesus telling us to do less and listen more. There was, after all, a crowd of people still in Martha’s home who needed to be taken care of and included. Making the effort to faithfully prioritize what is life giving to us and others rather than getting consumed by all we feel compelled to do is holy and important work. But how to do that isn’t easy since we – and everyone around us – have different ideas about what should come first. I wonder, though, if Jesus was inviting Martha to reflect on the point of holy hospitality in the first place. The work she was doing wasn’t meant to be – nor should ever have been – something the rest of us asked her to do. Rather, the welcome we give is a reflection of the welcome we’ve received by the One who came to us in the first place. The work of hospitality didn’t begin when Martha noticed Jesus and his entourage were nearing the village. The welcome had already started since God chose to come to her in the life she was already living. We can assume, I think, that Martha’s life didn’t necessarily follow the script everyone assumed it would. Luke, after all, identified her household as belonging to her which was a bit different in a world where property and relationships were defined through someone’s closest male relative. We can imagine Martha as an independent woman with the resources, time, talents, and energy to throw an itinerant preacher and his entire fanbase an amazing dinner party. Martha’s life was – and would continue to be – complicated, rich, and unexpected. Yet it was Jesus who chose to walk through her front door, accept her hospitality, and welcome her sister as the disciple he knew she could be. It wasn’t all the doing that made Jesus and God’s kingdom real in Martha’s world. Instead, Jesus had already chosen her – and her community – to be part of what God was doing in the world. That doesn’t mean the work of welcome is unnecessary or less important than sitting at someone’s feet while everyone else takes care of what needs to be done, Rather, the welcome we live out is something we get to do because, in baptism and faith, God has already welcomed you. You are, even now, with – and where – you’re supposed to be. You are already wrapped up in a love and care that extends beyond the multitude of ways we often choose busyness instead of faithfulness, mercy, care, and peace. That means, I think, that those who do welcome without ever embracing being welcomed are free to pause, reflect, and realize the love God has for them. And for those who’ve been told the work of hospitality is something only other people do, we are now free to do our part to make everyone around us feel as if they truly belong. Trusting we really are where we’re supposed to be is not, necessarily, merely accepting our life as it currently is. Rather, it’s about leaning into the relationship we already have with the One who has claimed us as his own. God’s willingness to welcome us is why we get to welcome, include, serve, and love everyone even when those around us tell us that we shouldn’t. And when life traps us in a line that zigs and zags and feels like it might never end, we can remember that we are – even now – where we’re supposed to be with the God who will never let us go. 

Amen.