Author: MASadmin

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

They brought to the Pharisees the man who had formerly been blind. Now it was a Sabbath day when Jesus made the mud and opened his eyes. Then the Pharisees also began to ask him how he had received his sight. He said to them, “He put mud on my eyes. Then I washed, and now I see.” Some of the Pharisees said, “This man is not from God, for he does not observe the Sabbath.” Others said, “How can a man who is a sinner perform such signs?” And they were divided. So they said again to the blind man, “What do you say about him? It was your eyes he opened.” He said, “He is a prophet.”

The [religious leaders] did not believe that he had been blind and had received his sight until they called the parents of the man who had received his sight and asked them, “Is this your son, who you say was born blind? How then does he now see?” His parents answered, “We know that this is our son and that he was born blind, but we do not know how it is that now he sees, nor do we know who opened his eyes. Ask him; he is of age. He will speak for himself.” His parents said this because they were afraid of the [religious leaders] , for the [religious leaders] had already agreed that anyone who confessed Jesus to be the Messiah would be put out of the synagogue. Therefore his parents said, “He is of age; ask him.”

So for the second time they called the man who had been blind, and they said to him, “Give glory to God! We know that this man is a sinner.” He answered, “I do not know whether he is a sinner. One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.” They said to him, “What did he do to you? How did he open your eyes?” He answered them, “I have told you already, and you would not listen. Why do you want to hear it again? Do you also want to become his disciples?” Then they reviled him, saying, “You are his disciple, but we are disciples of Moses. We know that God has spoken to Moses, but as for this man, we do not know where he comes from.” The man answered, “Here is an astonishing thing! You do not know where he comes from, yet he opened my eyes. We know that God does not listen to sinners, but he does listen to one who worships him and obeys his will. Never since the world began has it been heard that anyone opened the eyes of a person born blind. If this man were not from God, he could do nothing.” They answered him, “You were born entirely in sins, and are you trying to teach us?” And they drove him out.

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

John 9:1-42

My sermon from the Fourth Sunday in Lent (March 15, 2026) on John 9:1-42

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When I was in college, I spent eighteen months working as a web programmer for Cornell University’s School of Hotel Administration. My work involved maintaining the school’s website and helping professors with a variety of IT support. But the primary project I was involved with was moving the school towards a more paper-free future. When someone needed to buy a new computer or needed something fixed in a classroom, a lot of different pieces of paper signed by a variety of people needed to be gone through before it was taken care of. The school wanted to put this clunky yet efficient system onto the World Wide Web. This was, at that time, not easy to do since everything needed to be built by hand. And many of us know from personal experience the weeping and gnashing of teeth that comes when management or a consultant decrees it’s time for the company to change what we do. The sales pitch we’ve all heard or shared about how our lives will be infinitely better rarely comes true. It’s possible the new system would make everything flow in amazing ways. Yet what usually happens is those who built the system – or who are making the money off the new system – become the focus of everything instead. And those who don’t seek out early retirement spend their days filing dozens and dozens of support tickets showing how everything is way harder than it needs to be. Staying focused on what matters isn’t always easy to do and in today’s reading from the gospel according to John, Jesus invites us to keep our focus on what matters too.

Now we, once again, heard another long story from the gospel according to John. Two weeks ago we listened as a religious leader named Nicodemus visited Jesus in the middle of the night and heard how much God loves the world. Then, last week, we saw that love lived out when a Samaritan woman’s experience of Jesus led her to become the first evangelist in John’s version of Jesus’ life. Today’s reading occurred a bit further along in Jesus’ story and he was, once again, wandering around the city of Jerusalem. After getting in an argument with some folks in the Holy Temple, he then took a long stroll outside the city’s gates. I imagine, as he walked, Jesus noticed all the pilgrims, travelers, merchants, and workers who moved in and out of the city. Yet it the midst of all those people, Jesus also saw a man who was born blind. We sense that this man lived a rather precarious existence. He spent a lot of his time by the gates begging folks for money and food. Those who saw him and who even shared their resources with him expected him to always be there. But he also, at the same time, faded into the background, remaining nameless and not worthy of their attention and focus. And one of the reasons why that might have been was expressed by the disciples’ question. It was assumed those with a physical, mental, or emotional ailment or difference had either caused that issue for themselves or inherited it because of some misdeeds caused by a prior generation. And while we might not be as blunt as the disciples, we often wonder the same thing. We do recognize there are some things we can’t control and we know our genetics and the environment we were raised in shapes who we’ve become. But we also, either consciously or unconsciously, assume that if we work hard, play by the rules, try our best, and do more good than we are bad, our life will end up okay. It’s a way of looking at the world that seeps into how we see everyone else in the world too. And while we don’t necessarily believe everyone’s outcome should be the same, we trust everyone already has every opportunity they need to make life grand. We can, with a lot of grit and individual effort, overcome whatever hand we’ve been dealt. And if someone is not living the kind of life they want to live, then someone must have done something wrong.

This point of view can, I think, influence what we focus on when it comes to what happened in John chapter 9. When we hear about Jesus’ ability to change someone’s eyes, we act as if that’s what Jesus’ ministry was all about. But I wonder if John was inviting us to notice something different since Jesus’ time with the mud only lasted for a handful of verses. In fact, Jesus’ physical presence within this story is very short. Most of this text is devoted to how this man, after his encounter with Jesus refused, to be declared as anything other than a beloved child of God. He, like the Samaritan woman at the well, heard how he was already known to God and God promised to never let him go. And this reading is supported if we notice our translation of this passage has chosen to add a few words to the text that don’t necessarily have to be there. In verse 3 where it says “Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him,” those words – “he was born blind” – remind us of the question Jesus was answering. But if you look at the ancient Greek text behind our English translation, those words aren’t even there. This man didn’t exist to be an object lesson for what we receive when we’re faithful. And that’s because even before Jesus mixed a little spit and dirt together, he was already part of what God was doing in the world. When we focus too much on what happened to his eyes, we forget what he already saw and who saw him. And while the community around the man couldn’t imagine him as something other than a beggar sitting by the gates, Jesus saw him as a person worthy of grace and love. The miracle in chapter 9 we should focus on wasn’t his eyes being changed in some extraordinary way. The real miracle was that no matter what the rest of the world said or saw, he was – and always will be – a beloved child of God.

Now it’s completely typical, normal, and faithful to wonder about all that stuff that’s happened to us and if our choices and experiences shaped the life we lived. But this wondering, I think, shouldn’t remove the fact that sometimes stuff just happens. We can’t predict or control every joy or every heart break because life is complicated and when our focus ignores the real people who make up our story, what we see ends up being too small. Back at the school of hotel administration, what we did to help people participate in the new digital system was just ask what they wanted. And what all the Phd’s and those who didn’t graduate high school wanted was to make the digital forms look like the paper ones they knew so well. How those forms were handled were completely changed. But when we keep our focus on the people as they truly are, our life grows. And that’s because when we do that, we’re already participating in the promise Jesus has given to us and the world. You are, in baptism and through faith, a beloved child of God. And one of your purposes in this world is to to be one of the ways God reveals God’s love to the world. You are, because of Christ, always more than what you’ve lived through or whatever’s happened to you. And even when the rest of us act as if you’re less than us or merely an object lesson for what faith can do, Jesus has, through the Cross, shown how His focus has always been on you. We can, with His help, refuse to see anyone as something other than who they are and through the love, mercy, compassion, and support we share reveal how God’s grace is always focused on them too.

Amen.

 Now when Jesus learned that the Pharisees had heard, “Jesus is making and baptizing more disciples than John” ² (although it was not Jesus himself but his disciples who baptized), ³ he left Judea and started back to Galilee. ⁴ But he had to go through Samaria. ⁵ So he came to a Samaritan city called Sychar, near the plot of ground that Jacob had given to his son Joseph. ⁶ Jacob’s well was there, and Jesus, tired out by his journey, was sitting by the well. It was about noon.

⁷ A Samaritan woman came to draw water, and Jesus said to her, “Give me a drink.” ⁸ (His disciples had gone to the city to buy food.) ⁹ The Samaritan woman said to him, “How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?” (Jews do not share things in common with Samaritans.) ¹⁰ Jesus answered her, “If you knew the gift of God and who it is that is saying to you, ‘Give me a drink,’ you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water.” ¹¹ The woman said to him, “Sir, you have no bucket, and the well is deep. Where do you get that living water? ¹² Are you greater than our ancestor Jacob, who gave us the well and with his sons and his flocks drank from it?” ¹³ Jesus said to her, “Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, ¹⁴ but those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty. The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.” ¹⁵ The woman said to him, “Sir, give me this water, so that I may never be thirsty or have to keep coming here to draw water.”

¹⁶ Jesus said to her, “Go, call your husband, and come back.” ¹⁷ The woman answered him, “I have no husband.” Jesus said to her, “You are right in saying, ‘I have no husband,’ ¹⁸ for you have had five husbands, and the one you have now is not your husband. What you have said is true!” ¹⁹ The woman said to him, “Sir, I see that you are a prophet. ²⁰ Our ancestors worshiped on this mountain, but you say that the place where people must worship is in Jerusalem.” ²¹ Jesus said to her, “Woman, believe me, the hour is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem. ²² You worship what you do not know; we worship what we know, for salvation is from the Jews. ²³ But the hour is coming and is now here when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for the Father seeks such as these to worship him. ²⁴ God is spirit, and those who worship him must worship in spirit and truth.” ²⁵ The woman said to him, “I know that Messiah is coming” (who is called Christ). “When he comes, he will proclaim all things to us.” ²⁶ Jesus said to her, “I am he, the one who is speaking to you.”

²⁷ Just then his disciples came. They were astonished that he was speaking with a woman, but no one said, “What do you want?” or, “Why are you speaking with her?” ²⁸ Then the woman left her water jar and went back to the city. She said to the people, ²⁹ “Come and see a man who told me everything I have ever done! He cannot be the Messiah, can he?” ³⁰ They left the city and were on their way to him.

³¹ Meanwhile the disciples were urging him, “Rabbi, eat something.” ³² But he said to them, “I have food to eat that you do not know about.” ³³ So the disciples said to one another, “Surely no one has brought him something to eat?” ³⁴ Jesus said to them, “My food is to do the will of him who sent me and to complete his work. ³⁵ Do you not say, ‘Four months more, then comes the harvest’? But I tell you, look around you, and see how the fields are ripe for harvesting. ³⁶ The reaper is already receiving wages and is gathering fruit for eternal life, so that sower and reaper may rejoice together. ³⁷ For here the saying holds true, ‘One sows and another reaps.’ ³⁸ I sent you to reap that for which you did not labor. Others have labored, and you have entered into their labor.”

³⁹ Many Samaritans from that city believed in him because of the woman’s testimony, “He told me everything I have ever done.” ⁴⁰ So when the Samaritans came to him, they asked him to stay with them, and he stayed there two days. ⁴¹ And many more believed because of his word. ⁴² They said to the woman, “It is no longer because of what you said that we believe, for we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this is truly the Savior of the world.”

Luke 4:1-42

My sermon from the Third Sunday in Lent (March 8, 2026) on Luke 4:1-42.

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Our Bible occasionally likes to put similar stories next to each as a way to reveal what the author of each book thinks is the most important. These moments often use similar themes, ideas, and details as a way to help us discern what these words might mean for us. When we experience these stories a week at a time, we might not recognize how related these texts are especially if we skip a Sunday or our lectionary decides to jump to a completely different chapter or book. Yet what the words say as well as their location within each text show us who our God chooses to be. So if we’re going to spend a little time today with Jesus and the woman at the well, I think it’s important to remember what we heard last week. In John, chapter 3, Jesus was in the city of Jerusalem celebrating Passover. His public ministry was brand new and only a handful of disciples were by his side. His reputation as a miracle worker, teacher, and rabble rouster was growing so it’s not completely strange a person from the council overseeing life in the Temple went to see him. The councilperson named Nicodemus came to Jesus in the middle of the night and was the first to speak. He recognized Jesus’ status as a religious teacher but didn’t ask any question. Jesus, though, responded by describing the kingdom of God and our need to be born from above. Nicodemus, either sarcastically or out of real curiosity, asked Jesus how anyone could be born again since entering our mother’s womb a second isn’t really an option. Jesus pushed Nicodemus to recognize how the divine moves through our lives and then shared one of the most famous verses in our entire Bible. Jesus said: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.” And then, after a few more words from Jesus, that moment came to an abrupt end. We don’t hear Nicodemus’ response to Jesus’ words nor do we hear him declare “I believe.” Instead the story immediately shifted from a religious leader talking to Jesus in Jerusalem to Jesus choosing to take the unexpected route through Samaria as he headed back to his hometown. 

So now that we remember what happened in John chapter 3, the similarities and differences in chapter 4 reveal a little bit more what God was up to. We weren’t totally surprised to find Jesus talking to a religious leader in Jerusalem. But the conversation we heard today is a little different. We wouldn’t assume a faithful Jewish itinerant preacher would go out of his way to talk to an unnamed woman in Samaria. And that’s because these two communities had very different thoughts about God. While Jews and Samaritans both worshipped God and had the Torah – the five books of Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy – as part of their scripture, the Samaritans performed their religious rituals at Mt. Gerizim and didn’t include the other writings and the Prophets as part of their Bible. The Samaritans traced their history to the experience of the Northern Kingdom of Israel and its destruction at the hand of the Assyrian Empire while the Jewish community was centered in the Southern Kingdom of Judah and shaped by their exile in the heart of the Babylonian empire. Their disagreements occasionally became violent and their religious leaders avoided one another as best they could. Yet Jesus took the initiative to be the first to speak with this woman by the well. And his words weren’t, at first, very Jesus-like since he didn’t show much manners. He demanded water from the woman he wasn’t supposed to talk to. We get a sense that while she might not have been as formally educated or credentialed as Nicodemus, she was just as smart since she immediately called Jesus out for what he was doing. Their back and forth does, at that point, mimic what happened in chapter 3 since Jesus spoke about spiritual water and she took it quite literally. But unlike what we heard before, John lets us discover who this woman truly was. With courage, humility, and a willingness to break through the barriers that divide us, she listens, she understands, and she copies Jesus’ first words to hear by demanding the water he can give. And while we never hear if either of them ever received an actual cup of water, she is refreshed by the Jesus who gives her good news. 

And this good news isn’t limited to only one thing. Jesus’ story hasn’t fully played out yet his words changed her because he promised that she was fully known. Now we might want to get  a bit gossipy and focus on how she’s been married a bunch and is living with someone she isn’t married to. Jesus, though, doesn’t do that. He doesn’t condemn her actions, call her names, say she’s unfaithful, or shame her in any way. He, instead, affirms her story and promises she matters because he shared his story with her. In a place where he wasn’t supposed to be and while talking to a woman who didn’t share his own ethnic and religious background – Jesus identified himself as the One who would reconcile the entire world to God. She would never be as unnamed as John makes her to be. God knew her; God saw her; and this God was really with her. And while she could have stayed at Jesus’ feet or demanded to hear more, she left her water jar behind and became a bit like Jesus by inviting those who valued her and those who might have gossiped about her to “come and see” how God knew them too. 

Nicodemus might have been given the most famous verse in our Christian scriptures but the Samaritan woman might be the person John valued more. We never learn her name but she embodies who Jesus wanted his disciples to be. She questions; she wonders; she listens; she cares; she’s courageous enough to call Jesus out; and can hold her faith and her doubt in the same breath. She doesn’t pretend to be anything but herself and she doesn’t let what divides us be the limit of who we get to be. And when she experienced her good news, she invited others to have their own experience of the divine too. She is known and being fully known is what it means to be loved. Jesus told Nicodemus that God so loved the world and he then, in the very next chapter, showed a little of what that love actually looks like. And this love doesn’t merely make us feel butterflies fluttering around in our stomach. God’s love lets us be truly honest about who we are and recognize we are worth a very holy kind of love too. God knows you – and loves you anyways. And while we might assume that, as followers of Jesus, we’re supposed to spend every day being like Jesus in all we say and do. During those moments when our sorrow, grief, worry, anxiety, fear, and broken heart makes Jesus seem a little out of reach, we can let this Samaritan woman be our guide too. We get to question, challenge, doubt, and believe. We don’t have to let anger, violence, and our history limit who is worthy of love and who isn’t. We can invite others to be known and, at the same time, choose to truly get to know each other too. And when we do this, we’re doing more than being good people. We’re showing ourselves – and others – what it really looks like to say God really does love the world. 

Amen.

Now there was a Pharisee named Nicodemus, a leader of the Jews. ² He came to Jesus by night and said to him, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God, for no one can do these signs that you do unless God is with that person.” ³ Jesus answered him, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above.” ⁴ Nicodemus said to him, “How can anyone be born after having grown old? Can one enter a second time into the mother’s womb and be born?” ⁵ Jesus answered, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit. ⁶ What is born of the flesh is flesh, and what is born of the Spirit is spirit. ⁷ Do not be astonished that I said to you, ‘You must be born from above.’ ⁸ The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.” ⁹ Nicodemus said to him, “How can these things be?” ¹⁰ Jesus answered him, “Are you the teacher of Israel, and yet you do not understand these things?

¹¹ “Very truly, I tell you, we speak of what we know and testify to what we have seen, yet you do not receive our testimony. ¹² If I have told you about earthly things and you do not believe, how can you believe if I tell you about heavenly things? ¹³ No one has ascended into heaven except the one who descended from heaven, the Son of Man. ¹⁴ And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, ¹⁵ that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.

¹⁶ “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.
¹⁷ “Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world but in order that the world might be saved through him.

John 3:1-17

My sermon from the Second Sunday in Lent (March 1, 2026) on John 3:1-17.

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There’s an organization in New York City [You Gotta Believe] that finds permanent families for the type of foster kids who are often ignored. When it comes to adoption, it’s relatively not too difficult to find folks who want a baby since there’s so much potential for who that kid might be. But when it comes to teenagers and budding young adults who have their own personality, likes, wants, and history – finding them a family is much harder. These kids often carry with them the emotional, spiritual, mental, and even physical trauma made worse by an underfunded and overwhelmed system. This group, then, holds classes for those wondering what it might be like to open their lives to someone who has already begun there. And one of the interesting things this group repeats over and over again is how our expectations for what it looks like when a teenager is starting to feel comfortable in our home is often wrong. We assume that if this connection was going well then love, joy, patience, and good manners would grow. The kids should start off standoffish but soon reflect back the kindness we show them. The love we share is the love we get back. But what usually happens, though, is that when that love starts to break through, behaviors break down. These kids, to survive, built all kinds of emotional, physical, and mental walls to hold them together as they were shuffled from place to place. But when someone truly sees them, gets to know them, and won’t let them go when a minor inconvenience comes their way, the walls begin to crack. Those who have either been a teenager or raised them know how challenging those years can be. And when you add trauma and misery into the mix, everything explodes. These misdeeds are not a sign the connection we’re building together isn’t working. Rather, it reveals how replacing walls with compassion, care, love, and trust is what new life actually looks like. 

Now today’s reading from the gospel according to John contains the most well known verse in our entire New Testament. When we want to tell others what our faith is all about, John 3:16 says a lot. In fact, it’s so potent that when we wave posterboards at football games, tattoo our biceps, or place small signs on thin metal spikes in our lawn – we don’t even always feel the need to write the entire verse out. To us, John 3:16 is how we take a public stand announcing what we believe while, hopefully, inviting others to know how Jesus can be for them too. That ease of use – and the fact it’s everywhere – is also why, I think, our use of John 3:16, can be problematic. When we read it, we tend to zero in on the very squishy, important, and yet unquantifiable word “believe.” We assume that having the right amount of belief is how we get to be part of God’s forever story but what that might look like is always up for debate. We then use this verse as a way to separate those who we think are real Christians from those who we trust are merely pretend. Over time, the line becomes a wall where our act of belief – either through words or actions or church attendance or our financial giving or even our cultural values and who we vote for – becomes what John 3:16 means for us. This book and three digits in our culture functions less as a declaration of faith and more a hope that what we mean when we say “I believe” is enough to make sure our story doesn’t end. And as we lean into that understanding of 3:16, our walls grow as we put ourselves and others in buckets where we decide who is faithful and who isn’t. We might try to pretty up those walls with all kinds of biblical words but when you scratch their surface, what holds it all together is trusting the choices we make will be what carry us through. 

But when we step back and put this verse back into scripture, the emphasis we place on the last half of the sentences isn’t, I think, what Jesus was really up to. We are, at this point in John’s version of Jesus’ life, near the beginning of his ministry. The only thing he’s done is call a few disciples, turn water into wine, and tossed over a few tables in Jerusalem. A bunch of his story is still to come and yet Nicodemus, a member of the council overseeing the Holy Temple and life within the city, came to see who this Jesus might be. Now Nicodemus, like I said in my children’s message, knew what it was like to live across the lines we try to divide each other with. He was a Jewish leader with a Greek name connected to the Greek goddess Nike. The buckets folks put him into didn’t always fit and so that might be why he wanted to meet the One who doesn’t seem to fit into any of our buckets too. As they talked, it’s kind of interesting what Jesus didn’t say. He never told Nicodemus to repent, change his life, or believe in the good news. Jesus doesn’t promise Nicodemus that if uttered the right prayers or stood strong on his beliefs, that prosperity would be on its way. Jesus doesn’t promise the kind of comfort, peace, and security we want if only we believe in the one right thing. Jesus, instead, emphasized what God was up to instead. None of us pick the moment we are born and the divine swirls throughout the world like an evening breeze rattling the branches of the trees. We have no control over what the divine does and it’s a mistake to assume any of our choices are infallible to sin. And while we would love to be able to give ourselves a sense of wholeness through the right kind of effort and hard work, Jesus pointed to a story from Exodus where healing only came from God. And just like those who basked in the presence of a carved wooden serpent, the open arms of Jesus on the Cross shows just how far – and for whom – God’s love will go. What Jesus leaned into wasn’t us trying to get up to heaven. Rather, it was the reminder that our God always chooses to come down. The walls between heaven and earth; the walls between who is loved and who isn’t; and the walls we build to hoard life will always be shattered by the One who simply loves.

And when this love shows up in our relationships, in our families, in our faith, and in our world, being fragile and vulnerable isn’t a sin we need to repent from. It is, rather, the cost of being human and how we discover what love can do. It’s usually at this point, while our walls break down, that we do everything we can to keep them up. We get angry. We get mean. We say things we don’t really mean. We tell those who try to stick with us that they need to leave us alone. Now this isn’t meant to be an excuse for that behavior nor permission to act this way with those we love as a way of getting out of doing the hard work of learning how to faithfully love others too. It is, rather, an invitation to let yourself be as loved as God declares you are. When the walls come down, they create space for our real life to finally begin. Now we never hear Nicodemus’ initial response to Jesus’ words. He doesn’t, at that moment, come and say “I believe.” But he does return two more times in Jesus’ story. Later, in chapter 7, he defends Jesus before the council. And then he’s there with Joseph of Arimetha to take Jesus’ body and place it in the tomb. John never shows us the nitty gritty details of what God’s love did for Nicodemus. Yet we know it kept working in his life and pushed him towards so much more. Love doesn’t exist to merely help us get loved back. Love breaks down walls so that a different kind of life can be lived. And if our God has chosen, in baptism and through faith, to wrap you in a love that never ends, maybe we can push through the walls we build to see where God’s mercy, compassion, and hope might take us and the world. 

Amen.

Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tested by the devil. ² He fasted forty days and forty nights, and afterward he was famished. ³ The tempter came and said to him, “If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become loaves of bread.” ⁴ But he answered, “It is written,
‘One does not live by bread alone,
    but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.’ ”
⁵ Then the devil took him to the holy city and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple, ⁶ saying to him, “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down, for it is written,
‘He will command his angels concerning you,’
    and ‘On their hands they will bear you up,
so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.’ ”
⁷ Jesus said to him, “Again it is written, ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’ ”
⁸ Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their glory, ⁹ and he said to him, “All these I will give you, if you will fall down and worship me.” ¹⁰ Then Jesus said to him, “Away with you, Satan! for it is written,
‘Worship the Lord your God,
    and serve only him.’ ”
¹¹ Then the devil left him, and suddenly angels came and waited on him.

Matthew 4:1-11

My sermon from First Sunday in Lent (February 22, 2026) on Matthew 4:1-11.

*******

There’s a breakfast spot I go to with my family that has a little block of wood on each table labeled “The Original I.Q. Tester.” That wood is part of a game with a pyramid made out of triangles etched into it. At each corner of a triangle is a little round hole just big enough for a small white peg to sit in. On one side of the board area all the rules for the game. The first thing we do is put all the pegs into the holes while leaving one spot open. We then use a peg to jump over another peg, removing the jumped peg from the board. As you jump, jump, jump, we get to a point where no pegs can easily jump over the others. And then, based on how many pegs we leave on the board, we discover how smart we are. If three pegs are left, we’re only so-so. If we leave two, we’re pretty average. If we leave 1, we’re very smart. But if we leave the last peg in the exact hole we initially left empty, we’re brilliant. This is a fun game to play while waiting for your omelet and french toast to arrive. Yet it can get pretty competitive when you’re sitting at the table with siblings who have nothing else to do. It doesn’t take long before we’re demanding our turn to see how well we can do. And the wails, weeping, and gnashing of teeth that echoes from the table can get loud enough to interrupt the meals of those around us. Winning the game while waiting for breakfast can feel important. But what ends up mattering more is flaunting when we do it. Rubbing our win in other people’s faces isn’t good sportsmanship but displaying our strength, ability, skill, and power is what we do when playing with others. Doing all we can to win whatever game we’re a part of has a way of taking over our soul and in today’s reading from the gospel according to Matthew, the devil wonders if Jesus plays that way too. 

So it’s our tradition on the first Sunday after Ash Wednesday to back track a bit and hang out with Jesus in the wilderness. Over the last few weeks, we began working through Jesus’ first sermon to his disciples but we’re now exploring what happened before any of his parables, teachings, or miracles were written down. At this point in Matthew’s version of his life, Jesus had just seen John the Baptist in the wilderness. Together, they entered the Jordan River, Jesus was baptized, and when he came out of the water, God’s Spirit in the form of a dove landed on him and a voice declared him to be exactly who he was meant to be. But rather than using that moment as a springboard into his public ministry, Jesus went deeper into the place where the only thing he could depend on was God. It’s important to remember the wilderness in the Bible is always something more than a beautiful scenic spot. The wilderness is where our control breaks down. Being in the wilderness is very hard since we’re isolated, lonely, and full of worries and fears. This wilderness is a place we don’t want to be in and yet it’s the first place Jesus went to. He went into the wilderness where Moses, the prophets, and others encountered the only thing they could trust. Yet who Jesus ran into first was the devil. This is the first time in Matthew where this character shows up and we’re given no introduction. For Matthew, the devil is a tester, tempter, a ruler of destructive demons, and who has his own human agents in the world. The devil can’t be reduced to morality – the opposite of what we imagine good to be. Rather, in the words of Professor Warren Carter, the devil in Matthew “personifies the vulnerability of human life and life in relation to God.” The devil doesn’t simply invite us to make poor choices. The devil also pushes us – and the Son of God – away from the source of who we’re supposed to be. 

And that’s why I think remembering what happened immediately before this story is important. Jesus’ experience wasn’t a story telling us how to be strong when we’re tempted by something that doesn’t belong to us. What the devil is really trying to do is to see if Jesus will really be who the voice from heaven declared him to be. Will Jesus play as God’s anointed agent or will his life embody the games we play with ourselves and with others? The devil, then, presents three actions Jesus will end up doing later. Since Jesus will spend a lot of his ministry eating at people’s tables while feeding thousands with a few loaves of bread and fish, Jesus is tempted to turn non-food items into something anyone can eat. Jesus’ journey will take him throughout Galilee, Judah, Jordan, and into places where his work and his teachings will be very public. Since Jesus was currently in the wilderness where people expected God to be, the tempter invites Jesus to appear in the center of Jerusalem and show others how God is there too in a very protective and flamboyant way. And since Jesus will teach, heal, and offer compassion and mercy in a way that embodies his divine authority, the tempter pushes Jesus to just take power over everyone. Each act would be very public, very flashy, and with the kind of special effects that would show everyone how God really is right here. Yet the acts Jesus is invited to take also reveal how this devil was doing all it could to shrink Jesus’ story. When Jesus heard he was beloved, his mission wasn’t only to do amazing things. He wasn’t merely supposed to do what we expect the divine to do to flaunt how supernatural God really is. Jesus was also here to live; care; connect; weep; laugh; argue; teach; listen; mourn; and to experience everything life brings our way. Life wasn’t meant to be embraced as a kind of game where we use displays of power as a way to prove to others we’re more than so-so. We, with Jesus, are part of something new and we, together, don’t have to shrink our life into something smaller than it truly is. 

And that, I believe, is what the season of Lent is about. While some of us are busy “fasting,” “giving up things,” and “not eating meat on Fridays,” we have to remember Lent isn’t about self-improvement. It isn’t where we’re making ourselves better by assuming we have the power to resist all the temptations that interfere with our ability to win at life and faith. Rather, Jesus is inviting us to remember the cross etched on our forehead, God’s declaration of our belovedness, and how big our story is with our God. God has, through Jesus, shown us that God isn’t here to wow us with displays of power. God, instead, is here to live your life with you so you can discover who your God is. You’re not only meant to be so-so, very smart, brilliant, or embarrassed to even try and participate in the games we ask you to play. You’re here to be who God has declared you to be. As we care and serve, listen and love, and push past our need to always be in control, we notice how our self-worth is not defined by what we achieve or by who sees us win. We are, instead, wrapped up in the fullness of our God and we get to show others how they are part of God too. 

Amen.

“Beware of practicing your righteousness before others in order to be seen by them, for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven.
² “So whenever you give alms, do not sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, so that they may be praised by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. ³ But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, ⁴ so that your alms may be done in secret, and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.

⁵ “And whenever you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, so that they may be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. ⁶ But whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret, and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.

¹⁶ “And whenever you fast, do not look somber, like the hypocrites, for they mark their faces to show others that they are fasting. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. ¹⁷ But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, ¹⁸ so that your fasting may be seen not by others but by your Father who is in secret, and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.

¹⁹ “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal, ²⁰ but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. ²¹ For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21

My homily from Ash Wednesday (February 18, 2026), 7:30 pm worship, on Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21.

*******

So one of things I do as a PTA volunteer is to co-lead the local book fair at my kids’ elementary school. I don’t have the time or energy to read as much as I would like but we do what we can to help others discover that book – or series of books – that show them how amazing reading can be. I know, though, that books aren’t always the biggest draw at the book fair since fuzzy journals, multicolored pens, erasers shaped like pieces of sushi, and shrinked wrapped bricks of dirt with a fake gem inside entices all ages. The kitsch is seen as necessary to generate all the kinds of profit needed to keep these book fairs going. But I do find it interesting that not every multicolored pen or plastic finger pointer  actually sells. Over the last few years, one item that rarely ever moves is a pen filled with invisible ink. Now when I was younger, invisible ink mattered since passing a friend a so-called “blank” piece of paper in the middle of class to a friend was, for 2nd graders, a big deal. There was something really exciting knowing that even though we couldn’t read those words until we dunked them in some probably toxic chemical solution when we got home, they still belonged to us. It didn’t matter if the words were a bad joke, a meme, an insult, or even a question about last night’s homework, their invisibility never overshadowed the visible impact they had on us. And that image of making the invisible visible is, I think, a good image for us as we move into a new season of the church year. 

Now one of the interesting things about Matthew’s version of Jesus’ life is Matthew’s emphasis on contrasting ways. There is, on one side, God’s way for our life and all of creation that Jesus regularly invites us into. But there is also a different way that tears at our relationship with God and one another. This binary is, I think, not meant to be seen as two rigid things that we can easily choose between. Rather, what we assume to be good and holy might not be if we don’t take seriously how our love of power, comfort, control, and our general inability to imagine tomorrow being different from today hides God’s intent for our lives. This might be why so much of Jesus’ initial sermon to his disciples that marked the beginning of his ministry in the gospel according to Matthew used contrasts as a way to express his point of view. It wasn’t enough to simply sketch out God’s imagination for us and for creation; Jesus also held up a kind of metaphorical mirror inviting us to reflect on what we assume to be faithful and true. These contrasting images help us, I think, to recognize how peacemaking, mercy, comfort, forgiveness, and grace are way more foundational to God’s kingdom than to ours. What seems reasonable or even good in how we structure our lives and our communities doesn’t always fit with a God who declares the meek, the mourning, the poor in spirit, and those who hunger for righteousness as blessed. And there’s a way in which what we say to be faithful and good makes us look like complete hypocrites instead. 

The word “hypocrite” is very old and, in ancient Greek, it was often connected to what actors did on the stage. An actor’s basic job is, I think, to put on a persona and then live out a story for an audience who doesn’t always know what’s coming next. The actor not only embraces the character they’re trying to be; they also add their own nuance, care, wisdom, and life as a way to make that character whole. They, on one level, are not only acting for themselves. They’re also helping to make a community of strangers form a deeper relationship with themselves and their world. I’m sure many of us have, after watching some show, movie, or musical, have found ourselves changing how we treat our family and friends in light of what we saw on that stage. Actors have a way of putting up a mirror that reflects back a little of our souls. Yet actors, when they are on a stage, are living out a story that has, in one way, already been told. They’ve memorized a script, figured out the stage direction, and the play will only last so long. Their work is a performance that, while necessary and vital, is done with an audience. An actor is meant to be seen and Jesus is concerned that one of the ways the faithful lose their way is by primarily focusing on being seen too. Life can feel as if it is a kind of performance especially if we feel like we’re filling out a role that doesn’t quite feel like the real version of us. And there is quite a dopamine rush when the accolades for doing good start pouring in. Yet God’s way isn’t designed for an audience. The good we do and the sacrifices we make for others to thrive isn’t about getting our names plastered in lights on some billboard in Times Square.  It is, instead, about reflecting something different into the world. And while what exactly that looks like will vary from situation to situation, this different way isn’t some invisible code that requires some fancy incantation, prayer, or supernatural event to make it clear. We already have it since it was etched on your forehead with a bit of oil when God proclaimed you really are part of God’s vision for the world. 

Ash Wednesday is, I think, more than a moment where we come face to face with our mortality. It’s also an opportunity where we, once again, remind ourselves of what we get to make visible. On most days of the year, the sign of the Cross that was made on our forehead is, like invisible ink, unable to be seen. But we then take a moment at the start of Lent to outline it with the ash from burned up palm branches. These crosses aren’t meant to be part of a persona we put on every once in a while on the stage we call life. It is, rather, a reminder for us of who – and whose – we are. We get to take a moment to intentionally reflect on our words, actions, and the care we offer to ourselves, our families, ourselves, our families, our neighbors, and our enemies and wonder if we make visible the invisible Cross we bear by letting others know how loved and valued they are? Is the contrast we live out in our daily lives rooted in the mercy, forgiveness, grace, and hope Jesus has already given to us through his life, death, and resurrection? Or do we hide God from those who need God too? The season of Lent is, I think, an opportunity to not only recognize just how far God’s love has – and will go – for you. It’s also when we, as the body of Christ, realize we get to make God’s love visible too. 

Amen.

“Beware of practicing your righteousness before others in order to be seen by them, for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven.
² “So whenever you give alms, do not sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, so that they may be praised by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. ³ But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, ⁴ so that your alms may be done in secret, and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.

⁵ “And whenever you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, so that they may be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. ⁶ But whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret, and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.

¹⁶ “And whenever you fast, do not look somber, like the hypocrites, for they mark their faces to show others that they are fasting. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. ¹⁷ But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, ¹⁸ so that your fasting may be seen not by others but by your Father who is in secret, and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.

¹⁹ “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal, ²⁰ but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. ²¹ For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21

My homily from Ash Wednesday (February 18, 2026), noon worship, on Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21.

*******

So as I was preparing for today’s service, I couldn’t help but think about two blessings I’ve participated in over these last few weeks. As many of you know, we recently publicly welcomed two new people into the body of Christ. One was just this last Sunday, Callie, who just turned 1 on the 13th. When she showed up at worship, she quickly grabbed a hold of two of my fingers and then dragged me up and down the altar stairs. She was full of energy and then, during the baptismal liturgy itself, she was fast asleep. The warm water I poured over the back of her head caused her to stir but when I made the sign of the cross on her forehead – she almost snored. The other blessing I had was, on February 1st, getting to do something I don’t do a lot: and that’s participate in the baptism of an adult. Sam is a young adult who had, for a number of years, felt the Spirit stirring in his life. He came to us because he got to watch worship through our livestream even though he was, for a while, working on Sunday mornings. And then he discovered what it’s like to be part of CLC when once he could come to worship, we immediately drafted him to help de-decorate the sanctuary after Christmas. He, unlike Callie, was very awake during the baptismal liturgy and he had to bend down while I poured the water over his head. And when I got to mark the cross on his forehead, I paused for just a second because it, in a very vivid way, reminded me of what’s going to happen in just a few moments. Ash Wednesday is, rightly, a very vivid reminder of what it means to be human. I’ll take the very gritty and tangible bits of burned up ashes of palm branches, rub it all over my thumb, make a visible smudge of what’s supposed to be two intersecting lines on your forehead, and then say words about all of us returning to what we’ve come from. These ashes can be, for some, an invitation to break through all the different ways we try to pretend we’re not completely human. But they can also be for those who’ve experienced their own mortality in tangible ways, like having a cough caught in the throat. When fear, sadness, worry, and anxiety grip our souls – the last thing we want is to go into a small space to have even more of that stuff piled on top of us. 

Yet I wonder if these ashes can also, at the same time, be a symbol for hope. They are not only pointing us to where we come from; they’re also, at the same time, revealing where we are going. This isn’t only ash; it’s ash in the shape of what we built to end Jesus’ story. It’s an invitation to not only recognize authentically who we are but whose we are too. And if God was willing to put on dust, then we can also embrace what has already been sealed on us – and trust we really matter; we have value; and we already have what we need to let others know how loved they are too. 

A poem, Blessing the Dust, by Jan Richardson

All those days

you felt like dust,

like dirt,

as if all you had to do

was turn your face

toward the wind

and be scattered

to the four corners

or swept away

by the smallest breath

as insubstantial—

did you not know

what the Holy One

can do with dust?

This is the day

we freely say

we are scorched.

This is the hour

we are marked

by what has made it

through the burning.

This is the moment

we ask for the blessing

that lives within

the ancient ashes,

that makes its home

inside the soil of

this sacred earth.

So let us be marked

not for sorrow.

And let us be marked

not for shame.

Let us be marked

not for false humility

or for thinking

we are less

than we are

but for claiming

what God can do

within the dust,

within the dirt,

within the stuff

of which the world

is made

and the stars that blaze

in our bones

and the galaxies that spiral

inside the smudge

we bear.

Amen.

Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and his brother John and led them up a high mountain, by themselves. ² And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became bright as light. ³ Suddenly there appeared to them Moses and Elijah, talking with him. ⁴ Then Peter said to Jesus, “Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I will set up three tents here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” ⁵ While he was still speaking, suddenly a bright cloud overshadowed them, and a voice from the cloud said, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” ⁶ When the disciples heard this, they fell to the ground and were overcome by fear. ⁷ But Jesus came and touched them, saying, “Get up and do not be afraid.” ⁸ And when they raised their eyes, they saw no one except Jesus himself alone.
⁹ As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus ordered them, “Tell no one about the vision until after the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.”

Matthew 17:1-9

My sermon from Transfiguration Sunday (February 15, 2026) on Matthew 17:1-9.

*******

A few weeks ago, someone at the church said something I’ve been thinking about ever since. We were, at the time, working on a problem that felt like we were sort of building a plane while flying it.  We said stuff like : “well, what about this,” “what happens when,” and “did you think about this?” a lot. We eventually came up with a solution that didn’t cover every situation but worked well enough for what we were trying to do. And as we reflected on what we had done, they uttered the phrase “clear is kind” as the model for why they communicated in the way they did. When we talk, our words should be big enough to hold every expectation, assumption, question, and truth we have. We can have the courage to express our authentic self while accepting how communicating well will require a lot of humility and vulnerability. Striving for clarity isn’t easy since it’s more than simply “telling it as it.” Rather, “clear is kind” pushes us to realize that in all the ways we communicate, there’s a real person bearing the image of God who is being impacted by what we say and do. Being clear isn’t easy and what we thought was clear will often be anything but. Yet a holy thing happens when we, if we’re able, choose to communicate well. We’d imagine then, that this kind of communication would be at the heart of our experience of the divine. But as we see in today’s reading from the gospel according to Matthew, who we want Jesus to be and who Jesus really is – isn’t always so clear. 

Now it’s difficult to talk about the Transfiguration – Jesus’ transformation – without including what happened immediately before he took Peter, James, and John on a trip up a mountain. Jesus was, at this point in Matthew’s version of his life, on his way to Jerusalem. For three years, he had preached, taught, healed, argued with, and fed all kinds of people throughout ancient Judah and Galilee. A small group of fishermen, tax collectors, and women followed him while others, including the Roman Empire and its allies, wondered how revolutionary Jesus truly was. In the chapter immediately before what we just heard, Jesus visited a city named after the Roman emperors. It was built at the base of another mountain covered in religious temples with some declaring Rome’s rulers to “sons of gods” themselves. And so while standing in a place showcasing how strong, mighty, divine, and central to human history Rome imagined itself to be, Jesus asked his friends: “who do you say that I am?” Peter, who didn’t always get everything right and would soon immediately put his foot in his mouth, had a moment of clarity. He called Jesus the Messiah – the true center of our entire universe. What exactly that might mean is something we regularly debate. Yet Jesus’ clear question and Peter’s brave and vulnerable response – laid the groundwork to see that clarity lived out in a vivid way. 

And so six days after Jesus and Peter spoke at the foot of the mountain where the Emperor was seen as divine, Jesus took Peter, John, and James on a little field trip. We’re not told what they talked about while they walked but I imagine it was full of questions, comments, and wondering what Jesus was up to. When they neared the top, something unexpected happened. Jesus was suddenly different. His change, though, was more than putting on a fancy new outfit or making sure he had good lighting. Rather, Jesus looked exactly like what Peter described him to be. Jesus was radiant; otherworldly; and looked like someone we should follow. The picture we have in our heads of everything that’s holy – all the comfort, peace, hope, love, eternal life, power, and grace there is – that’s the Jesus they saw. And if that wasn’t enough, two other figures showed up. They instinctively realize Moses who had received the commandments and the law on Mt. Sinai as well the great prophet Ejiah was with Jesus too. Jesus wasn’t acting as if he was superior to Moses or was here to replace the words the prophets shared. He was, instead, affirming God’s commitment to never giving up on us and the world. God’s ongoing work of building a different future where our worst days won’t be our only days – that’s what God always does. And for a brief moment, Peter thought he received the clarity he needed to follow Jesus. That might be why he offered to make something – a tent – to keep a hold on this Jesus as long as he could. But when a word from heaven came, what felt clear became incredibly unkind. It’s possible the experience of the divine pushed Peter, James, and John to realize who small their own thoughts, words, and actions actually were. Or maybe when Jesus finally looked the way they wanted him to, they realized his words, teachings, and way of being in the world might actually cost them more than they wanted to admit. We expect, I think, that when Jesus shows up, we’ll receive a sense of peace, comfort, and wholeness that will cover our body and soul. Yet our Bible shows over and over again that when the divine shows up, even the most faithful of us end up being afraid. That doesn’t mean we’re somehow unworthy or undeserving of God’s presence. Rather, when we finally realize we’re not God nor the hero of our own story, that clarity causes us to fall down and cover our eyes. The disciples assumed seeing Jesus being everything they imagined him to be would bring clarity for whatever came next. Yet what they, at a conscious and unconscious level, experienced was a sense of how far from divine they actually were. 

But before they could uncover their eyes, Jesus reached out. With a gentle touch – and a word – he told them to “get up” and “to not be afraid.” Jesus wasn’t angry, dismissing what they were experiencing, or wondering just how faithful they were. He, instead, showed them how the clarity they assumed they needed had already been with them. It wasn’t the Jesus lit up like the Vegas Strip, Times Square, or a Japanese anime character that revealed what God was up to. God’s clarity is how, since the very beginning, the divine always comes down. We assume we have to look up, away from our world and our lives, to find the grace, certainty, and faith that will make our doubts, questions, and fears vanish away. Yet God’s love doesn’t wait for us to be right before God rightly claims you as God’s own. In our baptism, in our prayers, at the Lord’s table, and through the countless ways love makes itself known in your life – God comes down to show how you really are part of what God is doing in the world. It would be awesome if a life with faith felt more clear and our communication with God didn’t feel so empty, scary, and silent. But the One who chose to be born; to live; to laugh; to cry; to form friendships; to grieve; and to live through the Crosses we build whenever God’s love shows up – that One has already clearly proclaimed you really are worth everything to God. Jesus chooses to come down into our worries; our questions; our doubts; our joys; and even into our unanswered prayers to clearly say that God’s grace doesn’t depend on how many times you go up the mountain of faith. Rather, Jesus is already down here with you – and he will never let you go. 

Amen.

¹³ “You are the salt of the earth, but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything but is thrown out and trampled under foot.

¹⁴ “You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hid. ¹⁵ People do not light a lamp and put it under the bushel basket; rather, they put it on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. ¹⁶ In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.

¹⁷ “Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfill. ¹⁸ For truly I tell you, until heaven and earth pass away, not one letter, not one stroke of a letter, will pass from the law until all is accomplished. ¹⁹ Therefore, whoever breaks one of the least of these commandments and teaches others to do the same will be called least in the kingdom of heaven, but whoever does them and teaches them will be called great in the kingdom of heaven. ²⁰ For I tell you, unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.

Matthew 5:13-20

My sermon from the 5th Sunday after Epiphany (February 8, 2026) on Matthew 5:13-20.

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There’s an old skit on Saturday Night Live centered on a self-help guru named Stuart Smalley. Stuart was the star of his own self-help show and regularly interviewed celebrities without realizing how famous they actually were. He never identified himself as a licensed therapist and used his own earnestness as a way to express all kinds of motivational phrases. A big part of what made him funny was his catch phrases which included one where he’d stare into a mirror and affirm: “I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and doggone it, people like me.” There’s a lot of power, I think, in giving ourselves daily affirmations because adding a little positivity into the world is one of the ways we fight against the chaos and the turmoil. Taking a moment to count our blessings; to name what we’re thankful for; and to intentionally find joy is how we notice the light when the shadow becomes too much. These affirmations can be as big as when we look up to the heavens after scoring a touchdown during the Super Bowl. But they can also be just for us when we, for example, notice a slight smile on someone’s face after holding the door open for them while leaving a store. Affirmations feel like they’re too easy, too silly, and too simple to make a real impact on our life. Yet recognizing who we are in an honest, human, and authentic way shapes how we treat ourselves and others. An affirmation cannot be the kind of compliment we give to ourselves to claim we’re always going to be the hero of our own story. They’re meant to be big enough to include how imperfect we are. And while most of the stories we hear in the Bible are the opposite of looking into a mirror and affirming we’re okay; our reading today from the gospel according to Matthew has Jesus affirming that you are who God declares you to be. 

And  to unpack a little bit of what Jesus was getting at, we need to remember where we are in the story. Jesus’ public ministry is, in Matthew, brand new and before he calmed a storm or fed thousands with a few loaves of bread, he preached a long sermon to his disciples. This sermon on the mount is the initial bookend helping to describe everything Jesus was up to. Last week, we took time to notice the start of the sermon – focusing on those “blessed ares” that invite us to realize how important peacemaking and mercy are to God’s vision for our lives.  Jesus, then, immediately follows up with what we heard today – talking about salt, light, fulfilling the law, and how our righteousness needs to be over the top to have any chance of entering the kingdom of heaven. There are, within this text, several affirmations that really do make a difference in our lives. But that last statement we heard can make us wonder if we have any chance at being with our God at all. Now we Christians have, for almost two thousand years, used Jesus’ words about the Pharisees and scribes as an excuse to discriminate and demonize Jewish people. We often forget that when Jesus’ ministry began, his movement was an inter-Jewish conversation that took a few generations before becoming what we might consider a separate religion. Our preaching and theology can act as if those who challenged Jesus were either sinister, hypocritical, and clueless, or so wrapped up in what is meant to be holy, their embrace of the divine was rigid, exclusionary, and unattainable. We assume Jesus’ words fit the entire Jewish community since the scribes, Pharisees, and others were actual groups that existed in Jesus’ day. We use those words to affirm our own antisemitism, hatred and sin. Painting the Jewish community with that kind of broad brush distorts who they actually are and harms our own sense of self as followers of Jesus Christ. What we need to do, instead, is to recognize how Matthew wasn’t trying to transcribe everything that he heard about Jesus like a newspaper or history book. Rather, he used Jesus’ tradition of story telling as a way to reveal spiritual truths. Jesus would regularly use hyperbole and bold statements to get our attention. And he complained about the Pharisees and scribes in one speech while praising them in another. Who Jesus was calling out where those have no “interest in true righteousness or the will of God. They desire only a facade that glorifies themselves and helps them maintain coercive power over others.” It’s a way of being in the world that even those who say they follow Christ embrace as their own. Yet if those are the ones Jesus identified as the folks we’re supposed to compare ourselves to, then the kingdom of heaven isn’t only for those who are holier than the most faithful, kind, and caring person you know. God’s kingdom also has a place for you. 

 And that is something we can trust because of the other affirmations made at the start of today’s reading. Jesus leaned into two metaphors pointing to who God has made you to be. Salt, in the ancient world, was used in a lot of different ways. Salt adds flavor to the food we eat, was used to preserve meat since refrigerators hadn’t been invented yet, and was a part of religious ceremonies around sacrifices and the making of a covenant. Salt is necessary for our life and our health but could also be a weapon of war since armies who spread salt on farmland as a way make it unusable for future generations. Light, for Jesus, was more than making visible to the naked eye what was hidden by the shadows. Being a light in the world was, throughout scripture, often served as a description for God or for God’s messenger or even for Jesus himself. Yet you as an individual and all of us as the church, are called to be God’s light for the world. And one of the interesting things about Jesus’ words is how he doesn’t his affirmation isn’t hedged. He doesn’t say “If you believe in me; if you go to church; if you say your prayers; if you listen to me; if you give me money; or if you follow me” – then you are the salt and the light. All he does is say: “you are.” You really are part of what God is bringing about in the world. And I trust that Jesus has come into your life so that everyone can discover what God’s reign of love, mercy, kindness, forgiveness, and grace is all about. Your life isn’t about being better than everyone else or even getting everything right. It’s not about being good enough or smart enough or being the most popular person at school. You, because of God, get to serve like Jesus serves; to bring hope to others like Jesus does; to work for peace in our nation; and to feed, welcome, and to embody a mercy that shows how others are part of what God is up to too. And while we will never get everything right when it comes to living out the kingdom of God, even the least of those who let God’s way rather than our ways of competition, chaos, intimidation, and power shape how we treat ourselves and our neighbors – even they have their place with God. You are salt. You are light. You are a beloved child of God. And if that is who Jesus affirms we are, then we get to be part of His mission to affirm the value, dignity, and worth of everyone and everything that makes up God’s creation. 

Amen.