Author: MASadmin

“If you love me, you will keep my commandments. And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever. This is the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive because it neither sees him nor knows him. You know him because he abides with you, and he will be in you.

“I will not leave you orphaned; I am coming to you. In a little while the world will no longer see me, but you will see me; because I live, you also will live. On that day you will know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you. They who have my commandments and keep them are those who love me, and those who love me will be loved by my Father, and I will love them and reveal myself to them.”

John 14:15-21

My sermon from the 6th Sunday of Easter (May 10, 2026) on John 14:15-21.

---

So I’m curious: where do your ideas come from? 

Now I, personally, spend a lot of my time playing around with ideas. Most weeks I’m figuring out what prayers to say in worship, what lesson to teach in Confirmation, what themes and insights to highlight in our Bible study, and which ideas should shape my sermon. Through prayer, our time together, as well as paying people who are way smarter than I am – there are all kinds of ideas which help us see the Jesus who is always with us. And so when I’m looking for an idea I usually open up a blank page on my computer screen, ignore all the notifications on my phone, and take the time necessary to solve the problem at hand. I assume what I’m bringing into that moment will be enough to figure everything out. My education, my intelligence, my charm, my ability to recognize patterns, and all the living and work I’ve done to get to this point should be enough to come up with that one thing that can move me forward. But when I do this, the ideas don’t always come. In fact, most of the ideas I use on Sunday morning come while I’m busy doing something else. When we’re caught up living out the multiple vocations God has given us while being bombarded by all kinds of joys, sorrows, responsibilities, and that never ending to do list – an idea we need just shows up in a completely unexpected way. Noticing how the ideas we don’t plan for change us is one of the ways God shows up in our lives. And I wonder if we pay attention to how this played out during Jesus’ long sermon at the Last Supper, we can discover what should shape all the ideas that make us who we get to be. 

Now we’ve been spending time this Easter season with Jesus right before his betrayal and arrest. He was, during our reading today from the gospel according to John, celebrating the festival of Passover with his friends in Jerusalem. After hosting a dinner party where they could all eat, drink, and talk, Jesus interrupted everyone by wrapping a towel around his waist and washing their feet. Jesus knew the Cross was only a few hours away and the idea that the One who could cure the sick, raise the dead, and calm a storm with a word could be visibility defeated wasn’t something the disciples could imagine. Their ideas about strength, power, success, and faithfulness required Jesus to always win. And there wasn’t any room in their hearts and minds to  recognize just how far God would go for you. A new idea wasn’t going to be enough to break through everything they carried. What they needed was the promise their story would continue despite all the Crosses we build along the way. Jesus’ words throughout this long sermon shouldn’t, then, be reduced to ideas of the divine that serve as ways to divide who is with Jesus and who isn’t. Rather, they were a word of comfort for those who didn’t trust that Easter really was on its way. So that invites us, I think, to wonder if the start of this part of Jesus’ sermon might not be as transactional as it first appears. We always assume whatever idea that’s in the second part of any “if” statement should become our priority. But if that was true, this one wouldn’t bring comfort to anyone. On one level, it does sound as if Jesus was providing us a way to quantify our faith by measuring it by what we do. All we need is to follow Jesus’ commandments – and we show not only what we love but also our worthiness for God’s love too. The centering of our – and the disciples’ actions – is, however, a little out of place especially in light of what is about to come next. It was, after all, a disciple who was about to betray him; a friend who loved him who would deny him; and those who promised to be with him would flee from Jesus’ side. They would, through what they do, show anything other than love and faith. If Jesus’ “if” statement was doing what we assume it should do, Jesus was setting them up to fail. Jesus, though, isn’t interested in reducing life and our experiences of God into some kind of divine transaction. He knows being human isn’t easy and we don’t need help when it comes to not meeting God’s expectations. Any idea that lets us be the ones who define the fullness of what love can be is an idea that can never be as big as God knows it can be. 

And so that “if” in Jesus’ words isn’t an invitation, I think, for us to dwell on how we fail. It’s an opportunity for us to recognize how, because of Jesus, something new is possible. Since, in baptism and in faith, you are part of what God is doing in the world and since your worst days won’t be your only days – God refuses to let love only depend on us. A Jesus who is willing to welcome and listen; to care and serve; to recognize those we push aside and who knows us and loves us despite the ways we hide who we truly are – won’t let us limit how big grace can be. God refuses to let faith depend on us or to let the promise be something we hold on our own. God also gives us the Holy Spirit – the Advocate, the Comforter, and the Helper to hold us, guide us, and make Jesus’ promise to always be with us real in our life. The Spirit is the word we hear in worship, read in Scripture, or receive from a friend that sustains us when things get hard. The Spirit is when others show up for us to cry by our side. This Spirit is the sound coming out of our mouths when we challenge an injustice in our world. And the Spirit is the water we splash on our face to remember that – through baptism – we always belong. The Spirit is the sacrifices we make so others have what we need. The Spirit is when we don’t horde God’s gifts only for ourselves. The Spirit is when the welcome we receive from God becomes a welcome others experience through us too. And the Spirit is when we’re able to ask for help and to bring help to those whose eyes have long run out of tears. Faith is always more than an idea because it’s rooted in the promise that shapes not only how we view ourselves but also how we relate to every one God brings our way. And that promise is that you really are worth living, dying, and rising for. The love God gives us is a love big enough to hold us exactly as we are. And it’s that love – and the Spirit – that reminds us we are never far from God. 

Amen.

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

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

John 14:1-14

My sermon from the 5th Sunday of Easter (May 3, 2026) on John 14:1-14.

---

Even though our lectionary – the cycle of readings we use in worship – works on a 3 year rotation, there are some passages in our Bible that I’ve preached on way more than others. We will, for example, celebrate Pentecost very soon and hear the same passage from the book of Acts we hear every year. Listening to the same story over and over again can feel repetitive. But there are times when hearing these words after experiencing new joys  and struggles can help us see God more clearly. Today’s reading from the gospel according to John is a text we hear every three years. Yet it’s also a text I’ve read quite a bit since it’s used for funerals. There’s something very comforting about leaning into Jesus’ promise for those we love while living through our own incredible heartbreak and sorrow. But on a regular Sunday after our big Trash and Treasure rummage sale, this word sounds a bit strange. As I was preparing for today’s sermon, I didn’t think I’d have anything new to say since I’ve already written dozens of homilies about this passage. I did, though, find a commentary by Professor Laura Holmes of Wesley Theological Seminary who showed me something I hadn’t really noticed before. At the very start of our reading is one of the more difficult parts of this text. Jesus’ invitation to “not let our hearts be troubled” sounds like a command we’d never meet. We assume Jesus wants our faith, joy, and life to be so secure that our emotions are never too out of whack. Yet it doesn’t take much of actually living our life before a troubled heart is all we’ve got. We can imagine that living with faith should make us into a kind of robot whose emotions are always in check. But when we notice how Jesus was often troubled himself, his invitation lets us be more human and faithful too. 

Now we are at this point in John’s version of Jesus’ life near the beginning of his long sermon shared during the last supper. Jesus had gathered together with his friends and after hosting them, then launched into a four chapter long sermon. Jesus knew the Cross was on its way and he wanted to help his friends live through a future none of them wanted. This dialogue was more than Jesus simply lecturing at those around him. They talked back, asked questions, and forced Jesus to repeat his main point in many different ways as he tried to get them to hear what he had to say. Jesus knew their expectations were about to be completely undone since they had seen the abundance, power, and grace of his ministry manifested in real and tangible ways. But in just a few hours it would look as if his – and the disciples’ – story had come to an end. As he spoke, their anxiety grew since Jesus kept hinting at what was coming next. His invitation “to not be troubled” felt like an impossible – and unfair – task. But Jesus also knew what it was like to be troubled since he was associated with that words a few chapters before. When Jesus came face to face with the loss of his friend Lazarus, his heart had been troubled. And when he came to terms with his own death and how one of his friends would betray him, his soul – and his spirit – were troubled too. Being troubled, then, can’t only be about having our emotions turned upside down. Jesus was, instead, pointing to what happens when a loss makes us feel isolated and alone. Jesus wasn’t telling his friends a faithful life should act as if our hearts will never break. Rather Jesus’ connection with us will always be stronger than whatever trouble comes our way. 

Now that promise within Jesus’ words is something I’ve pointed out quite a bit. But what I didn’t realize was how Jesus, in these words, showed how we experience this promise everyday. The words as they appeared in the ancient Greek language they were first written in are really hard to translate. If we wrote them out, they might read something like: like “You all, do not let your heart be troubled.” The “your” is plural which means Jesus was talking to the disciples as a group. But the word used for “heart” breaks all our grammar rules since it’s singular. Jesus wasn’t telling each disciple to make sure their heart – their individual emotions – were never upset. He wanted them to recognize how, because of Jesus, they have one communal heart. Faith, for Jesus, is always a group activity. We need a team of folks to care, pray, and show up for us through everything life brings our way. And so Jesus chose to point to our responsibility to live as if we really are part of one body – using our gifts, experiences, stories, and abilities to help each other thrive. We often act as if our own personal and individual success and happiness depends only on the work we do, yet one of the things we get to do is reminding one another we’re not alone. It doesn’t take much for us to wonder if God’s promises really are meant for us. There are way too many times when our prayers are met with silence and the good life we expected ends up very topsy turvey. Doubt; anxiety; fear; rejection; anger; sadness; and resignation are part of a faith-filled life too. And when we’re feeling as if we’re living this life all on our own, we need the person next to us at the communion rail or posting comments on our livestream to remind us we are not alone. When, in the immediate moments after Jesus’ meal with his friends and their bonds of fellowship broke down, their troubled hearts are what caused them to flee from Jesus’ side and for Peter to deny knowing Jesus in the first place. Jesus doesn’t want us to do everything we can to stop our own hearts from feeling. He wants us to trust that through him, in him, and because of him – we are connected to one another and the divine. 

And that’s because Jesus is more than a teacher, prophet, guide, or cool friend. He is a “Way.” His life – and our faith – isn’t only about bringing us to an amazing destination that makes life worth it. It is, rather, about showing how – together – we get to live out God’s love, grace, hope, and mercy right now. Our eternal life also includes this moment – and it’s the connection we have – and continue to have with Jesus – that brings us into our tomorrow. And so we get to remind each other that our baptism; our trust; our care; the ways others answer our prayers and how we get to the be the answer to other’s people prayers too – is how Jesus chooses to show up in our lives and in our world. And when we feel as if Jesus is far away, it’s through one another where we have the opportunity to remind each other how Jesus is always by our side. You truly are a beloved child of God and you really are part of what Jesus is doing in the world. And there’s no troubled heart that can break the hold God’s love already has on you. 

Amen.

[The disciples and those after Pentecost] devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers.

Awe came upon everyone because many wonders and signs were being done through the apostles. All who believed were together and had all things in common; they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need. Day by day, as they spent much time together in the temple, they broke bread at home and ate their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having the goodwill of all the people. And day by day the Lord added to their number those who were being saved.

Acts 2:42-47

My sermon from the 4th Sunday of Easter (April 26, 2026) on Acts 2:42-47.

---

So last Sunday, while you gathered for a worship led by Rev. Elaine Burkert, my family and I were driving back from Boston. We actually woke up earlier than we usually do on a Sunday to grab a little breakfast and then wait in line for over an hour to exit a giant cruise ship. For the prior five days, we traveled through the Atlantic Ocean and spent 24 hours in Bermuda. This was the first time we had, as a family, taken a cruise together and if I had to sum up the entire experience in one word – the word I’d use would be “abundant.” Cruises are meant to be an all inclusive experience full of everything. There was, for example, all kinds of food with a buffet that included multiple omelet, crepe, carving, and ice cream stations. In the evening we could visit an Irish pub, a French Bistro, a Noodle Shop, and still have time to get a third dessert back at the buffet if we wanted to. Since it was April, walking around in flip flops, a hoodie, and holding an adult beverage was everyone’s default attire. And kids could, if they wanted, participate in all kinds of age appropriate clubs filled with activities and their own exclusive events. For those who were a bit competitive, a variety of game shows and trivia competitions took place all day long. And every night was filled with hours of karaoke, Broadway-like shows, and DJ’s who did everything they could to keep you on the dance floor. After spending all day eating, playing, and eating some more, we came back to a room with a made bed, scrubbed toilet, and towels hung neatly in the bathroom. Cruises are an experience where abundance is at the heart of everything we do. And yet the freedom to eat, drink, dance, laugh, and shop whenever we wanted was held together by hundreds of other people who did all the cooking, housekeeping, and entertaining that allowed us to thrive. 

Now today’s reading from the Acts of the Apostles is a passage that can surprise us. The book of Acts was crafted by the same person who wrote the gospel according to Luke. And where Luke focused on Jesus’ ministry to the Cross, Acts gave theological language and deep spiritual meaning to what happened after that first Easter morning. At this point in the story, the early church had already watched Jesus ascend to the right hand of God; had replaced Judas with another disciple to be an apostle; and then experienced Pentecost – when the Holy Spirit empowered the disciples to share God’s inclusive story. It had only been mere days or weeks since Jesus’ death and resurrection. Yet the community itself had begun to change as folks who never experienced Jesus face-to-face were now becoming part of the church. We might assume the early disciples would have been a little hesitant to fully integrate these new people into the community. So it would make sense to us to be a little cautious around those who had never heard Jesus utter one of his stories for his own lips. But what the church did instead was to do something that feels a little strange. These old disciples of Jesus as well as those who were brand new sold everything they owned and then, as a community, shared with each other whatever money, food, and resources they might need. 

We might assume the community at this time wasn’t very large or were pretty poor so it would take much to keep everyone fed and housed. Or maybe these early followers of Jesus were way more faithful and a little holier than us so they should be totally cool sharing their money and resources. If we were there, these first believers would be the people we’d be fine sharing our stuff with. But we can also choose to spiritualize these words, treating them as a kind of legend that shouldn’t impact our faith and our life. We, in our own ways, try to mimic this behavior by donating money to the church as well as bringing all our stuff to the Trash and Treasure rummage sale. Yet I’m sure none of us contacted a real estate broker or our financial advisor on our way to church today to see what kind of check we could bring if we sold our home, books, jewelry, cars, investments, and more. The early disciples didn’t only sell what they already owned; they also assumed they’d have all they needed to face the future that was on its way. They trusted their needs would be met but there would be a debate about what was a need and want. And letting someone else – either a community, or a committee, or even me be the one who decides what you need – and what you don’t – is a  little nerve wracking. The longer we sit wondering what this moment in Acts might have been like, the more anxious, worried, and concerned we get. It wouldn’t take much to assume the newer folks to the community hadn’t earned access to these resources since they didn’t see the Romans nail Jesus to the Cross. And those who showed up after the resurrection with a check in their hands could easily discover as if they were only there to cater to whatever wants and needs the older crew had. Selling and combining their assets together would have felt like a constraint on who good their life could be. And yet what the community made up of older and newer followers of Jesus experienced instead was an abundance full of grace, hope, and love. 

And what that abundance looked like was lived out by spending time together with their God and with one another. We’re told they worshipped in the Holy Temple and then shared meals in their homes. Acts doesn’t say they immediately went back to work or school or immediately left to tell others who Jsus is. Rather, they did the hard work of being a community – together. They had to take the time to discover what gifts and resources they had and ponder what their needs actually were. They had to become a place where people regardless of their health, abilities, intelligence, age, or background could really worship their God. Their personal stories – full of hurt and joy – would shape what the gospel really meant to them. And everyone would need to choose to change how they communicated, interacted, and lived with one another so conflict, jealousy, fear, and anxiety wouldn’t tear them apart. They would need to pay attention to what they would need to give up so they could really be for one another. The pooling of resources wouldn’t constrain what their life could be. It would, rather, be their way of making sure their fears, worries, concerns, and biases wouldn’t be the only thing that defined them. Their experience of Jesus – if it was in-person or through faith – would be the abundant gift that changed them. And as much as we imagine the good life being like a cruise that lasts forever, the life Jesus actually brings us into is bound by a holy connection that doesn’t end. It’s a life that trusts you are fully known and believes the ways we let anxiety, fear, and scarcity limit the love we share won’t limit who we can be. We get to be a community who doesn’t let others do the hard work needed to help us live together. We get to use our own gifts of time, talent, attention, and energy to show others they are not alone. We get to care; to serve; to show up; to listen; to pray; to offer help to those who need it; and to do the harder thing of asking for help when we need it too. And when we feel the urge to keep this life only to ourselves, that’s when the Cross-shaped life of Jesus pushes us to live out God’s inclusive love in all we say and do. 

Amen.

When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors were locked where the disciples were, 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 that are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may continue 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 12, 2026) on John 20:19-31.

---

If it’s okay, I’d like to spend this second Sunday of Easter nerding out with The Lord of the Rings. This series, written by J.R.R. Tolkien, is a kind of reimagining of our world’s beginning through the lens of an English fairytale. Tolkien wove together a rich tapestry of fantastical creatures, knights in shining armor, walking trees, magical wizards, elves, dwarves, and his own myths and legends to create a very full history. He was not only influenced by the legends of his homeland but also was shaped by Icelandic sagas, norse mythology, ancient Rome, and more. The Lord of the Rings is presented as a kind of culminating moment in a thousands year long drama about an ancient ring of power, created and infused with the essence of a great evil who wanted the world to reflect what he imagined perfection to look like. And the One ring wasn’t destroyed by a strong army or through the heroic actions of a stoic and mighty man. Instead, it was a diverse fellowship of elves, dwarves, humans, wizards, as well as two hobbits named Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee – who faithfully and courageously changed the world. 

Now after the One Ring fell into the fires of Mt. Doom, these two hobbits were rescued by giant Eagles who plucked them safely from the side of the raging volcano. Sam and Frodo had just collapsed among the burning rock and assumed it was the end. But when Sam woke up, he found himself lying on a soft bed, with the branches of trees covered in young leaves swaying in a gentle spring breeze outside the window. At first, Sam was very confused and wondered if had woken up from a very strange dream. But when he turned and saw Frodo, who was asleep next to him, still carrying the wounds life gave him, Sam knew this was different. He had been given a new chapter but he had no idea what was going on. So Sam cried out to nobody in particular: “It wasn’t a dream! Then where are we?” A voice then spoke up and told him exactly where they were. That voice belonged to Sam’s old friend – Gandalf the wizard – who stood before him all in white, “his beard gleaming like pure snow in the twinkling of the leafy sunlight.” Sam was shocked because the last time he saw him, Gandalf fell into a bottomless abyss fighting a fiery demon. It took a second for the words to come – and when they did, Sam gasped: “Gandalf! I thought you were dead. But then I thought I was dead myself. Is everything sad going to come untrue? What’s happened to the world?” 

I wonder if Samwise’s experience might reveal to us a little bit of what Thomas was up to in today’s reading from the gospel according to John. Thomas has, for centuries, been labeled as a doubter since he doesn’t necessarily accept what the other disciples told him. They, like Mary Magadelene, experienced the risen Jesus in a very personal way. And when they said “we have seen the Lord,” Thomas didn’t simply say okay. He began his response with “Unless I see….” and ended with “I will not believe.” Yet reducing Thomas to only a doubter doesn’t really do justice to his full story. We first met him way back in chapter 11 when Jesus decided to go visit his friends Mary and Martha. The disciples knew that the religious and political authorities were looking for him so such a journey would be dangerous. And while the others were a little skittish, Thomas said, “Let us also go, that we may die with him.” Then, a few chapters later, after Jesus washed everyone’s feet and began sharing what would happen next, Thomas had the guts to ask Jesus: “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?” When the disciples, after Jesus’ death, huddled behind lock doors, it was Thomas who wasn’t there. Everyone was very afraid yet while the disciples tried to lock out the world, it was Thomas who chose to be in the world instead. Courage isn’t, I think, about not being afraid. It’s about finding a way through it. Not only did Thomas have the courage to not stay locked behind doors on that first Easter evening, but he also courageously spoke up when the others told him what had happened. The disciples rightly shared how Jesus had come to them exactly as they were. And Thomas, to his credit, didn’t discourage their experience. He didn’t call them liars or jokers or wonder if they were simply pranking him or claimed they were sharing an idle tale. What he said was that he wanted that same kind of experience too. 

And that, I think, is something we want as well. Like Thomas, we’d need to know we’re part of this new thing God is up to. We want to believe that our grief, sorrow, and pain weren’t for nothing and that our worst mistakes, our sin, and our selfishness won’t be the only thing that defines us. It often feels quite unfair that joy is so short while our worry, anxiety, and sadness lingers for much too long. So we often do what we can to hold tightly to whatever’s around us assuming our reality is defined by scarcity and our future depends on getting ours before others get it instead. Yet the more we try to hoard life limits what our tomorrow can be. Thomas, who had the courage to not be locked in, also had the courage to wonder out loud if God had a place for him too. And Jesus, in response, showed Thomas this new future he was always already a part of. It wasn’t going to be a future where, in the words of Samwise Gamgee, everything sad came untrue since even Jesus’ body carried the unhealed wounds we gave him on the Cross. Rather, the bits of life we wish we could relive again as well as those bits we wouldn’t wish for anyone are wrapped up in a tomorrow where God is truly making all things new. This is a new story where the limits of what was is being transformed into what can be. And rather than being a tomorrow defined only by us, it’s a future where mercy, compassion, grace, and abundance are all part of what we get to be. It’s a reconciliation and a renewal that extends through the entire cosmos. And while we might not see this fully lived out in our lifetimes, Jesus comes to us in our real lives to say you are loved, you have value, and you matter. He comes to us at a table where even the imperfect, the anxious, the worried, those who question, and those who might not even know who God is – to simply say you belong here. And whenever we find ourselves wondering what’s up with our lives and with our world, God grants us the courage to be honest about who we are and trust Jesus will always be Jesus too. You – because of Christ – are part of the new chapter God is already writing. And while life will be what it’s been, we can reimagine our today and tomorrow to reflect the reconciliation, renewal, wholeness, hope, and joy at the heart of who our God chooses to be. 

Amen.

Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb. So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.” Then Peter and the other disciple set out and went toward the tomb. The two were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. He bent down to look in and saw the linen wrappings lying there, but he did not go in. Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb. He saw the linen wrappings lying there, and the cloth that had been on Jesus’s head, not lying with the linen wrappings but rolled up in a place by itself. Then the other disciple, who reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed, for as yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead. Then the disciples returned to their homes.

But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb, and she saw two angels in white sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying, one at the head and the other at the feet. They said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” She said to them, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.” When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?” Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.” Jesus said to her, “Mary!” She turned and said to him in Hebrew, “Rabbouni!” (which means Teacher). Jesus said to her, “Do not touch me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’ ” Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord,” and she told them that he had said these things to her.

John 20:1-18

My sermon from Easter Sunday (April 5, 2026) on John 20:1-18.

---

So it’s the time of year when I begin and end every day wondering when I’ll deal with my yard. The long, cold, and stormy winter left branches and broken squirrel nests at the foot of every tree. Bulbs my wife planted have started blooming, adding a little color next to all the dead piles of lives. And while I know many of you are masters when it comes to yards and gardening, not everyone has the time, resources, or skills to make life grow. We all, I think, enjoy all the flowering trees even if we have to take every allergy pill we can find. Yet we also recognize how this season is fed by the decay and shadow that came before. Gardens are a place where life and death exist together since old plants and compost supply the nutrients that allow the next generation to grow. This cycle of life to death to life builds the future where all kinds of colors bloom. And so it’s fitting, I think, that when Mary Magdalene came to the tomb – it was in a garden where the story continues. 

Now today’s reading from the gospel according to John began in a rather strange way. We get to watch one of Jesus’ disciples wander through the city of Jerusalem before dawn but we’re not told why they’re out and about. Unlike the other gospels, John doesn’t give us a specific reason why anyone went out their front door. Mary Magdalene was introduced just one chapter before as a witness to the crucifixion. We have no idea how long, according to John, she followed Jesus or if she ever heard his description of what would happen next. It’s possible someone – or something – told her to go out outdoors. But her movement through the city’s gate might have also been a little bit like muscle memory while she tried making sense of what happened on the Cross. As she walked, I imagine she felt lost, cloudy, and in a daze. Yet when she neared the tomb, an unexpected sight broke through her mental fog. The closed door that served as a fitting capstone to the hopes and dreams she once had – was now fully open. Mary wasn’t quite sure what to do with this new information so she ran, looking for anything that could give this strange thing some meaning. She eventually found two other disciples who might have been hiding in Jerusalem, on their own way to the tomb, or maybe preparing to leave for Galilee. Mary, full of anxiety, worry, grief, and fear, invited them to “come and see.” And when they arrived at the garden and peered inside, we’re not 100% sure what they did next. It’s possible they told Mary what they saw but she might have been too overwhelmed to hear what they said. Within her swirled everything that comes when we’re faced with what life brings. And even the presence of angels couldn’t stop her from weeping. Yet when the divine asked her what she was experiencing, she had the courage, strength, and faith to name what she was feeling out loud. And when she did, she turned from the tomb and towards the life she didn’t know was already there. 

When we imagine gardens in our Bible, it’s not hard to immediately picture the one that’s there at the very beginning. In the hymn that makes up the opening chapters of the book of Genesis, the first place we call home is the garden of Eden. It’s a place full of lush vegetation, friendly animals, abundant food, and where even God strolls under the trees. When we look at gardens, we tend to focus on the finished product since we assume they’re a mini-paradise where peace, comfort, and satisfaction refreshes our soul. A garden is where life as we want it to be is enfleshed in the vibrant colors of our hopes and dreams. Yet gardens in the Bible are also places where temptation, conflict, doubt, and fear are always lived out. It isn’t long before even the garden of Eden becomes a place where sin and death enter our songs. And when Jesus, in anguish, asked for his future through the Cross to be changed, he prayed in the garden of Gethsemane while his disciples fell asleep. Gardens are not only places where sweet smells, green stems, and well manicured beds reflect what life should be. Gardens are also where every part of life is embraced, recognized, and made holy. The dirty fingernails, calloused hands, thorn riddled forearms, and battles with groundhogs are not a sign our garden has failed. Rather, it’s a reminder of the kind of living that makes it a garden in the first place. That might be why when Mary saw life in front of her, her first instinct was to call Jesus the gardener. If anyone would be moving bodies early in the morning, it’s reasonable to suspect those who tend to life and death and life might be involved. None of the other disciples or even the angels had challenged her anxiety, fear, or worry by telling her what God had done. Instead, she was invited to discover this new chapter for herself and for the world. She assumed grief and sorrow would shape her future to come. And while Jesus doesn’t ignore or dismiss the fullness of what life always brings, he – by saying her name – affirms the Easter promise is her promise too. 

Gardens are always meant to be more than a sea of lush vegetables, vibrants bushes, and colors that outshine every rainbow. Gardens are more than a refuge from the world. Gardens are places where the life we live and the promises God keeps become tangible and real. A garden is where the cycle of life is nurtured by a divine hand that chooses to get dirty when we act as if kindness and hope have no place in our lives. Gardens, in the words of Matěj Čadil, are “a symbol of good, of growth and renewal that counteract the inexorable decay of the world.” Gardens “remind us that renewal is [often] slow [and] humble work,” requiring hands that do not give up. And while we have a habit of taking hands of love and nailing them to a Cross, God doesn’t let our choices be the only thing that shapes what tomorrow will bring. Holding onto the fullness of what life is and the cycle of life to death to life again is a holy work we are all invited into because – in baptism and through faith – your name is already on Jesus’ lips too. The Easter promise given to Mary is the same promise God gives to you. And if God can take the decay we perpetuate in the world and transform it into something new, we can join in with compassion and mercy so others know their names are in God’s mouth too. The gardens we grow will never be perfect and we’ll try our best to hide all struggle, frustration, failures, disappointments, and mistakes it took to make it green, yet when we partner up with Jesus by tending to our families, friends, neighbors, and even enemies with a life-giving love – our life and our world begins to bloom. 

Amen.

After six of the last seven words from the Cross, I shared a short reflection. I quoted extensively a prayer written by Kayla Craig in her book To Light Their Way.

THE FIRST WORD: LUKE 23:32-34 “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” 

A few months ago I was visiting a comic book store, admiring all the valuable comics on the wall and digging through a bunch of the bins. The store was pretty empty and so the staff ended up standing around talking amongst themselves. While I was looking through old back issues of books I already had, I could hear them sharing about their life, families, and kids. Someone couldn’t wait to go on vacation and visit a place they’ve never been to while another was feeling a little nostalgic for a time when their kids were little. This staffer had, for years, brought their kids to the store and really enjoyed the time they spent together. Their kids, though, were now older and preferred to stay home or hang out with their friends. The staffer knew that this was all just a part of growing up and wasn’t trying to take it personally. But he also wished he had one more chance to have that experience again. He said, “There’s a moment when you pick up your kid not realizing that’s the last time you ever will.” Life is full of these kinds of transitions as we move into a future we’re not quite ready for. And yet when Jesus came face to face with what we do when God’s love shows up, he refused to let us define what his last moments will be. Rather, even in the midst of all the sorrow, pain, fear, and anxiety, Jesus prayed for the future he was already building for the world.   

THE SECOND WORD: LUKE 22:35-43 “I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in Paradise.” 

So since I started my reflections by using the words others shared, I’d like to keep that pattern going by turning to a long prayer someone else wrote. Kayla Craig is an author who regularly writes prayers and devotions for families. In her book “To Light Their Way,” she wrote something I’ve used in my own family as a way to unpack what the Cross might mean for us today. Sometimes we lessen the impact of faith by trying to reduce it to something we can understand. But there are times when other people’s words help us recognize how faith is something we experience and live with too. Kayla Craig’s poem about Good Friday begins in this way: 

O Lord, we come to You on this day 

To remember You – 

You, who hung each star in the sky

And, too, hung upon the Cross.

O Lord, we grieve and lament

And repent of the ways we have shouted, 

“Crucify Him!” 

With our actions and our words

And our sins of omission and silence.

Christ, have mercy on us. 

O Lord, we want to skip ahead 

To Your resurrection,

For it is painful

To remember Your pain –

The torture, 

The death at the hands of people in power,

The sacrifice of Your great love.

We want to turn away.

We want the storybook ending

Without any of the sorrows. 

And yet it is because of Your power

And Your suffering

That we are able to dwell in a faith

Big enough to hold all the pain of the world

And we can sit in the tension 

Of now and not yet. 

It’s the criminals on the cross who voice what the Cross might mean. One of them chose to join with the crowd, pushing Jesus to be the kind of Messiah we want him to be. And yet, right next to him, was another who also seemed to recognize who had placed Jesus on the Cross in the first place.  Trying to reduce the Cross to one thing or seeing it merely as a puzzle piece in God’s eternal plan forgets how we are part of this story too. And the role we play within Jesus’ journey to the Cross is always way bigger than we usually accept.    

THE THIRD WORD: JOHN: 19:25-27 “Woman, here is your son. Here is your mother.” 

The gospel according to John never officially names Jesus’ mother. We know her name is Mary but she’s primarily identified by the relationship she has with her son. John isn’t afraid of naming women since he name-dropped a bunch of them in the verses we just heard. Yet I wonder if John’s constant naming of the connection she had with Jesus as his way of showing us who our God chooses to be. Jesus knew he wouldn’t be coming down from the Cross under his own power and his mother, living in a patriarchal world, would be facing a very risky future. And while Jesus had brothers and other siblings who could step in – he refused to let others create a new future for those he loved. So, at a terrible moment when everyone wasn’t sure what the future would bring, Jesus not only gave his mom someone who could care for her but he also gave a disciple a new parent too. He promised that they, together, have a future. And that future, as the poem shares, is created by a God who knows our tomorrow doesn’t have to only be an extension of what we’re going through today. Mrs. Craig writes: 

Lord, we thank You for a love that is bigger

And truer than any fairy tale,

A love that bore a violent death

So that we may truly live

And be free from the shackles of violence

And the snare of power.  

THE FOURTH WORD: MATTHEW: 27:45-49 “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?”  

Now when it comes to the story of Jesus’ passion, two of the things that make it hard are: 1) how people treat Jesus and 2) how Jesus always doesn’t do what we expect. We assume Jesus’ actions are very intentional and that those choices make this awful moment understandable. But there remain bits of this story that don’t always align with a Jesus who we assume is always in control. And one of those moments is when, while on the Cross, he uttered the opening line to Psalm 22. How – if this was all part of the plan – could the Son of God claim to be forsaken? We sometimes act as if Jesus really didn’t mean what he said or, since the psalm ends in a more faithful place, Jesus was using this opening line as a symbol for the good bits at the end. But I wonder if Jesus’ decision to lament – to put worry, fear, sorrow, grief, and anxiety into real words – helps us discover just how big God’s story truly is. We might not understand why Jesus felt forsaken but we shouldn’t, I believe, assume it was pretend. Jesus really did know what it was to be abandoned by his friends and to feel as if God had left him behind. And while there are plenty of times when Jesus’ experience matches our own, we also know God made a way for Him and trust God will make a way for us too. Kayla Craig’s poem continues in this way: 

O Lord, our lives are marked with suffering,

And we do our children no favors

To present the idea that grief does not exist. 

We ask You to help us

On this Friday

To create a sacred space,

To show them that You,

King of heaven and earth,

Took on our pain.

And even though You were betrayed,

Mocked, maligned, mistreated, 

And even murdered,

You humbled Yourself to death on a cross

So that we would know life.

O Lord, we remember Your 

Trial and torture. 

THE FIFTH WORD: JOHN 19:28-29 “I am thirsty.” 

When the early disciples of Jesus reflected back on Jesus’ life and ministry, they often used the words from the Psalms, the prophets, and the Torah as a way to unpack what they saw and experienced. It was one of the ways they found meaning and purpose in what they went through together. But looking for some kind of scriptural proof isn’t the only way to experience Jesus’ story. We can also recognize the very human – and the very physical – reality he lived through. It’s through Jesus’ body where he lived out his story and his body, in this moment, was doing all it could to survive. And since every breath was harder than the last, his thirst – I imagine – was very real. When people heard him speak, they – rightly – looked around for something to give him. Yet what they found did very little to offer a little comfort during a moment of horror. And I wonder if the sour nature of the wine caused his lips to pucker – furthering his suffering rather than alleviating it. Choosing to make things harder rather than lead with mercy and compassion is a very big part of what people do throughout our Bible. And trusting there is a better way to be is something we’re always growing into. So in the poem I’ve been reciting from all night, it continues with: 

We pray that our children 

Would know Your way of love –

A love that makes a way

For all people,

That takes up the Cross. 

May they know a way that chooses mercy

When faced with an enemy

A way that chooses

Sacrifice instead of comfort,

A way that chooses 

Healing instead of violence,

A way that chooses

Loud love instead of hidden hate,

A way that opens their hearts

Instead of closes them shut. 

THE SIXTH WORD: JOHN 19:30 “It is finished.” 

And so before the rush to Easter morning and the future that shapes how we view everything that has come before and everything to be, we have the opportunity to do the very hard thing of recognizing just how long the shadow can be. Broken dreams. Unfulfilled plans. An unanswered prayer. It’s a shadow we do our best to avoid and yet it’s a place our God chooses to go to. And that’s because God isn’t done with you yet. So I’d like to end this series of reflections with the very last lines from Mrs. Craig’s poem: 

O God, we ask You to hold our family

As we try to fathom love

That sacrificed on our behalf,

Willing to be betrayed

And suffer death on a cross.

Still our hearts

Let us cry as we begin to feel

The weight of this truth.

We weep for the ways violence

Still happens in our world,

And we pray for all to know

The deep and abiding love of Jesus Christ.

We wait in the darkness.

Be with us in the darkness,

O Light of the world. 

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 decided that Judas son of Simon Iscariot would betray Jesus. 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 supper, 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 reclined again, 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, slaves 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, 31-35

My sermon from Maundy Thursday (April 2, 2026) on John 13:1-17, 31-35.

---

So at the start of tonight’s sermon, I wonder what’s the question you’re bringing into this moment. Maybe you’re wondering how to apply something you just heard in the text to your everyday life or maybe something in your everyday life is making it really hard to worship right now. The question you have is a question worthy of being asked and I’m sure others would find it meaningful, faithful and very important. But the question I’m holding onto right now is probably not as reverent as yours. We are at the very beginning of the great three days at the heart of our church year. This is the moment when we see how far God’s love always goes. Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter Sunday is when the church feels its most mature since a large rabbit carrying painted eggs can’t overwhelm the Cross. These three days aren’t necessarily easy to face since we have to confront the truth about who we are while, at the same time, also having to deal with the next thing on our never ending to do list. Taking a moment to worship on a Thursday evening isn’t easy and we want this moment to be worth coming out for. And yet the question that bubbled up for me while listening to our reading from the gospel according to John was trying to imagine which of the disciples giggled first when Jesus reached for their feet. 

Now we, correctly, recognize how sombre and serious Jesus’ last meal with his friends before his betrayal, trial, and arrest is meant to be. Our attempt at ending Jesus’ story and his friends abandoning him during his time of need shows why we need Jesus in the first place. Jesus’ work, though, didn’t happen in a vacuum. He engaged with real people living in a very real world. And in this world, some of us are pretty ticklish. Scientists aren’t sure why we react to tickling the way we do. It’s most likely an unconscious act that triggers our fight and flight response since being handled by someone else isn’t always safe. Even if we laugh while being ticked, what we experience might feel more like pain than joy. But when someone we care about lightly brushes our skin, a whirlwind of emotions can be captured by a giggle. Jesus and his disciples probably knew what this giggle was like since they were used to people touching their feet. It was very common for a person to wash their feet whenever they entered someone’s home. The open toed sandals they wore while walking along dusty trails and through city streets with very limited public sanitation meant their feet were dirty and smelly. It was important to leave the outside – outside – yet this washing wasn’t done by the guest themselves. It was the responsibility of someone in the host’s household to physically lower themselves before their guest and then scrub their toes. The act of lowering oneself reflected one’s social status and so those at the bottom of the ladder – the enslaved, servants, women, and even children – were tasked to wash the feet of anyone who came through their door. The act of washing feet and having our feet washed was full of all kinds of cultural, social, and physical expectations. And so when Jesus, the One who the disciples assumed would make David’s throne his own, wrapped a towel around his waist and bent down at their feet, Jesus’ friends weren’t quite sure what to do. Not only was it very unexpected to have their teacher sitting below them; their fight and flight response was also triggered the moment Jesus reached out for their feet. 

Which is why, I think, Peter acted the way he did. His immediate response to Jesus’ strange act was to put all his anxiety, fear, and worry into words. Others in that room probably reacted like he did or kept their thoughts to themselves. I imagine it took all their energy to stay with Jesus and not pull away from him when he came near. But at some point, all that tension in that space was broken by a sound the person who uttered it didn’t even want to make. As Jesus reached towards someone’s feet, a giggle was probably heard by all. I’m sure that disciple was pretty embarrassed when a joyous sound erupted from their lips during what was a very meaningful, faithful, and confusing moment. Yet their action might have, inadvertently, reminded everyone about who their Jesus chooses to be. A few chapters before this meal, Jesus’ own feet was anointed by Mary, Lazarus’ sister. And while others pushed back against what she did, Jesus embraced her as a true and worthy friend. She knew, on a very personal level, that every part of her story was wrapped up in a Jesus who was already for her. All her doubt, questions, tears, joy, and laughter had been lived with the Son of God. She had experienced what it was like to call God out, to have prayers go unanswered, and then be met by a God who chose to reach out to her. And the reality of being seen, known, supported, and valued invited her to be for Jesus too. For a community that would witness the destruction of their hopes and expectations, what they needed was to trust the foundation of love Jesus had already built with them. Jesus promised that even though they would leave him, deny him, and imagine something other than God had won, these disciples already had everything they needed. Their sorrow, pain, broken dreams, as well as their joy, laughter, and even giggles were held by a God who wouldn’t let Good Friday be the end of the story. The Jesus who sat at their feet would help them see how being at each other’s feet was how our lives and our world would be changed. And while this work would be difficult, tiring, and break so many of their expectations, a God who is big enough to hold all our anxiety and all our giggles is a God big enough to always carry us through. 

Amen.

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

The disciples went and did as Jesus had directed them; they brought the donkey and the colt and put their cloaks on them, and he sat on them. A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, and others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. The crowds that went ahead of him and that followed were shouting,
“Hosanna to the Son of David!
    Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!
Hosanna in the highest heaven!”

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

Matthew 21:1-11

My sermon from Palm/Passion Sunday (March 29, 2026) on Matthew 21:1-11

---

Today’s sermon is a little shorter than usual on purpose because we’re letting our Bible do most of the talking. We began today by joining in with Jesus as he entered the city of Jerusalem in the days before his betrayal, arrest, and the Cross. That image of a small crowd waving palms, laying down garments on the dusty road, and with Jesus mimicking how kings of ancient Judea and Israel would enter the city after a successful military campaign sets the tone for today. He wasn’t merely being humble; he was letting others know a different kind of story was now unfolding. This moment – as well as the rest of Holy Week – are central to who we know God to be. And yet Jesus’ procession isn’t the only image that might prepare us for everything that comes next because it’s likely that as Jesus entered Jerusalem, the Roman Governor Pontius Pilate showed up too. When we pay attention to his story, we get a better glimpse of what God is always up to. 

Now out of all the Roman governors who ruled ancient Judea, we know the most about Pilate but the amount of information is very small. We don’t know where he was born, what his early life was like, who his family was, or even have a document containing his full name. Scholars assume he was educated, somewhat wealthy, politically connected, and might have served as a military commander somewhere else in the Empire. Yet how he became governor of Judea is a mystery and why he wanted that job in the first place – since there were better governor jobs around – is a mystery too. Pilate probably began his rule around the year 26 or 27 and served for about 10 years. He was supposed to be supervised by the governor of a much larger province but he spent most of his time doing whatever he wanted. Pilate was the head of the judicial system, responsible for the collecting of tribute and taxes, managed all the government contracts, and minted the coins used in the local marketplaces. And like most Roman governors in his area, he spent most of his time living along the coast. Pilate, though, would come to Jerusalem during major religious festivals with a large number of soldiers as crowd control. His work, though, wasn’t secular since he also had a say in how the Holy Temple functioned. Pilate not only appointed who the Jewish High Priest would be but also controlled some of the ritual objects used during the holiest days of the Jewish year. We don’t know what Pilate really thought about the Jewish community or their God but the historical record shows he regularly antagonized those he was supposed to rule. He once tried to install images of the Roman Emperor in the city as a way of showing who was divine and who wasn’t. After a crowd protested outside his home for five days, he ordered his soldiers to draw his swords. When the crowd refused to back down, Pilate finally relented. That didn’t stop him from doing whatever he could to insult the Jewish community. He also decided to have golden shields possibly covered with inscriptions declaring the Emperor to be the Son of God placed in King Herod’s palace in Jerusalem. Herod got so mad about this he even complained to the Emperor. And, if that wasn’t enough, Pilate also raided the money people donated to the Temple to pay for a new aqueduct. When another crowd protested what Pilate had done, he let his soldiers attack this crowd with their swords. Pilate’s governorship ended after another violent incident where he ordered the massacre of a group of Samaritans who were on a kind of archaeological expedition looking for items associated with Moses. That group was led by a person who some declared to be the Messiah and so Pilate didn’t even go through a pretend trial to condemn them all to death. 

From what we can tell, Pontius Pilate didn’t mind using violence to assert his own authority. He regularly proclaimed the Emperor to be divine and all powerful. Pilate was skilled at playing groups and people against each other as a way to keep them in line. And when it came to showcasing Roman’s strength and might, he wasn’t afraid to let the sunlight reflecting off swords, armor, and golden images remind others who was in charge. When Jesus marched into the city as part of a rag tag crowd of disciples waving palm branches and riding a donkey, Pilate was entering the city at the same time at the head of his own parade. The golden standards bearing the image of the Emperor would have glimmered in the sun while he, at the top of a large horse, would personally embody the fullness of Rome’s military might. Pilate was reminding the community of not only who had conquered them but also who had defeated their God. And while Pilate placed soldiers within the city to stop people from protesting or challenging Roman rule, Jesus chose instead to head to the Temple to show who our God chooses to be. We might assume we, as faithful followers of Jesus, would have participated in the right kind of parade when Jesus rode in. Yet at the heart of today’s story, I think, the promise that makes Holy Week exactly what it’s supposed to be. Regardless of what we choose to put our faith in or how we use violence, wealth, and control to pacify our anxiety and fear, our God refuses to let us have the final word about Creation’s story. This is a moment when we, together, see just how far God will go for us and the world. And we, with, in, and because of Jesus Christ, will discover who God declares us to be.  

Amen.