Category: Faith

So when they had come together, they asked him, “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?” He replied, “It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set by his own authority. But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” When he had said this, as they were watching, he was lifted up, and a cloud took him out of their sight. While he was going and they were gazing up toward heaven, suddenly two men in white robes stood by them. They said, “Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up toward heaven? This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven.”

Then they returned to Jerusalem from the mount called Olivet, which is near Jerusalem, a Sabbath day’s journey away. When they had entered the city, they went to the room upstairs where they were staying: Peter, and John, and James, and Andrew, Philip and Thomas, Bartholomew and Matthew, James son of Alphaeus, and Simon the Zealot, and Judas son of James. All these were constantly devoting themselves to prayer, together with certain women, including Mary the mother of Jesus, as well as his brothers.

Acts 1:6-14

My sermon from the 7th Sunday of Easter (May 21, 2023) on Acts 1:6-14.

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Twice a year, I work with another parent to make the Scholastic Book Fair come to life at my kids’ elementary school. It’s a fun three day event where kids and their caregivers argue about which books, pens, journals, bookmarks, erasers, and posters they’re going to bring home. The book fair raises thousands of dollars that are used to fund additional learning programs for every kid in the school. And we work hard so that every kid, regardless of economic background, can walk away with a new book or two. The fair is extremely fun but can be a bit stressful especially when the cash registers attached to the fair don’t work. During the height of the after school rush, the scanner attached to a register refused to work and so I spent what felt like hours entering 13 digit ISBN codes by hand. Once we worked through the line that, at one point, stretched across the entire elementary school gym, I…needed a break. I handed the machine off to another volunteer and joined a group of volunteers reshelving and adjusting a bunch of books. All of us had kids around the same age and so it didn’t take long for our conversation to focus on being a parent. We initially kept it pretty light, sharing all kinds of funny stories. But it didn’t take long for a different kind of story to emerge. On the surface, what we shared was what life was like for these kids. Yet when you listened a bit more closely, what we were really talking about was ourselves. We named our own worries and fears, wondering if we had the capacity to be the patient, loving, caring, and non-judgemental people these kids needed us to be. We, in whispers that no one else could hear, wondered what the future might bring. As we talked, we admitted that, for many of us, it felt like we were simply going through all this stuff on our own. What we needed – and what our stories seemed to be searching for – was the hope we weren’t alone. 

Our first reading today from the book of Acts takes place 40 days after Easter. Jesus had died but was now making his presence known to all of his disciples. He took the time to meet up with Peter, break bread with two disciples who fled towards the village of Emmaus, and then joined everyone for a dinner of broiled fish. Luke, who wrote the gospel according to Luke as well as the book of Acts, wove these individual events tightly together. They pile up, one on top of the other, to make us feel as if Jesus was meeting everyone all at once. For forty days, Jesus hung out with his friends in the city of Jerusalem. He ate with them, prayed with them, and even blessed them. Their time together included a bit of Bible Study that let the disciples ask all kinds of questions. I like to imagine that they, while in the presence of the resurrected Jesus, shared their joys, their doubts, and even their hopes for the future. Day in and day out, the disciples saw the risen Lord face-to-face and they probably assumed that this new habit was going to continue. But Jesus, on the 40th day, did something a bit different. He led them to a place outside the city, roughly two miles away near the village of Bethany. Once there, they walked up a nearby mountain known locally as the mount of Olives or Olivet. As they neared the top, their gaze took in the entire valley including the city of Jerusalem itself. They probably felt as if they were on top of the world and so one disciple decided that was the perfect time to ask Jesus a question. 

Now, if we were given the chance to talk to Jesus face to face, I’m not sure if we would ask the same question. But if we pay attention to where they were, that question makes a lot more sense. They had returned to the spot where, just a few weeks before, Jesus had mounted a donkey to ride into the city below. After sending his disciples to find him an animal to ride, Jesus rode into the city of Jerusalem as if he was already its king. They were standing in the exact place where Jesus had, for just a moment, embodied everything they hoped he would be. The disciples believed that the Messiah would change their world by re-establishing a political kingdom that would push the Romans into the sea. Everything that Mary sang about way back in chapter 1 – with the mighty being casted down and the poor raised up – was, they thought, finally coming true. The Romans, in response, tried to end Jesus’ story and yet here they were, just weeks later, ready for Jesus to ride that donkey once more. The Romans believed they were destined to rule the world so now seemed like the perfect time for them to meet a Risen Lord with the power to make everything right. The disciples were ready for Jesus to be the Jesus they always expected him to be. But he didn’t send the disciples to find another donkey for him to ride. Jesus didn’t deputize his friends as soldiers to engage in some kind of holy fight. Jesus didn’t embrace the symbols of power and might that we seek out every single day of our life. Instead, he ascended so that those who followed him could do a more difficult thing of simply living. Jesus, with only a few words, gave his disciples a commission to bear witness to what God was already up to in the world. They were hoping that Jesus would create an earthly power where they could finally meet and experience the fullness of their God. Yet Jesus reminded them that God’s kingdom had already come and that it would continue to unfold through them. Jesus didn’t promise his followers fame or privilege. He didn’t claim that Christians were entitled to a kind of power that placed them on top of anyone else. And instead of seeking the kind of wealth that would bring them a certain level of comfort, Jesus sends his followers to the ends of the earth because God’s kingdom is always bigger than our own. It’s in the sending that we discover a promise of what our life gets to be about. We live because God knows we have a future wrapped up in the One who has already claimed us as his own. 

This future, though, isn’t something we have to wait for because God, through the Spirit, shows we’re not alone. Jesus didn’t ascend because he was trying to escape the world. Rather, he took the particularities of his entire life and brought it into every aspect of the divine. God did more than simply create the world; God chose, in Jesus, to live in it. Jesus lived a complete human life – including moments when it felt as if he was alone. He lived through the experience of being abandoned and casted aside by those who believed there was no future for him. So Jesus, in response, chose to send us the Spirit – this energizing force that manifests the presence of God in our lives so that you, unlike him, will never be alone. In those moments when it feels like everyone else has it all figured out and we are, somehow, hidden in whispers we don’t want anyone else to hear – God’s Spirit comes to show that you are loved, you are valued, and that your life has a future because through baptism, in faith, and because of Jesus Christ – your eternal life has already begun. 

Amen.

Then Paul stood in front of the Areopagus and said, “Athenians, I see how extremely spiritual you are in every way. For as I went through the city and looked carefully at the objects of your worship, I found among them an altar with the inscription, ‘To an unknown god.’ What therefore you worship as unknown, this I proclaim to you. The God who made the world and everything in it, he who is Lord of heaven and earth, does not live in shrines made by human hands, nor is he served by human hands, as though he needed anything, since he himself gives to all mortals life and breath and all things. From one ancestor he made all peoples to inhabit the whole earth, and he allotted the times of their existence and the boundaries of the places where they would live, so that they would search for God and perhaps fumble about for him and find him—though indeed he is not far from each one of us. For ‘In him we live and move and have our being’; as even some of your own poets have said,

‘For we, too, are his offspring.’

“Since we are God’s offspring, we ought not to think that the deity is like gold or silver or stone, an image formed by the art and imagination of mortals. While God has overlooked the times of human ignorance, now he commands all people everywhere to repent, because he has fixed a day on which he will have the world judged in righteousness by a man whom he has appointed, and of this he has given assurance to all by raising him from the dead.”

Acts 17:22-31 (NRSVue)

My sermon from the 6th Sunday of Easter (May 14, 2023) on Acts 17:22-31.

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Areopagus is a word that literally means “Mars Hill” and it was a physical place where court cases in Ancient Athens were heard and decided. But by the time Paul arrived in the city, it had become the name of the city’s governing authorities. Athens had long lost its status as a major political power but it was a place that valued education and learning. Paul, after being chased out of the city of Thessalonica, took refuge in Athens and told his friends to meet him there. He planned to keep a low profile but he soon fell into his old habit of visiting the local synagogue and the nearby marketplace to tell anyone who listened about the Jesus who lived, died, and rose again in a land across the sea. Some who heard Paul dismissed everything he said but a few gentiles – non-Jews – wanted to learn more. They brought him before the Areopagite Council who were more than simply the leaders within the city. They also represented the intellectual curiosity at the heart of Athenian identity. Paul, I think, knew what this kind of curiosity looked like since he, as a Pharisee, read, preached, studied, and just dug deep into God’s word. Those who brought Paul before the council probably recognized his curious spirit and so they asked Paul to flesh out the message he had been sharing. Paul, then, did exactly what they wanted him to do but chose to not share the name of Jesus at all. 

Now that feels a bit weird since Jesus was the reason why Paul was in Athens in the first place. Paul’s use of the name of Jesus was one of the reasons why he had been driven out Thessalonica. Paul name-dropped “Jesus” all the time whenever he was preaching. Yet here, before those who embodied who the Athenians imagined themselves to be, the name of Jesus was nowhere to be found. It’s possible that Paul, after his dustup in Thessalonica, was wary of what the leaders in Athens might do. He might have wanted to stay on their good side until his friends arrived. The name of Jesus can sometimes be used as a cudgel, turning words centered in love and grace into a threat. When we’re told to “Believe or else!”, we often build a kind of mental, emotional, and spiritual wall that protects who we think we are. This wall can either shut us down or cause us to lash out, refusing to fruitfully engage in whatever makes us feel uncomfortable. This defense mechanism can, in certain situations, keep us safe but it also might stop us from becoming who God knows we can be. We all, I think, worry that our words about Jesus will cause others to react to us in this very negative way. And we don’t think we have the words or knowledge or even the energy to faithfully respond to what this lashing out might look like. Paul, I think, didn’t even want to be in Athens and so avoiding the name of Jesus might have been his way to keep the governing council from arresting him or worse. Paul wanted to move into the future he had already planned for himself. Yet the words he shared with the Athenians revealed how God’s future had already begun to include them all. 

Paul began his words by describing what he recently saw: an altar in the middle of the city dedicated to an unknown god. The Athenians, I think, noticed how our beliefs don’t really capture just how big the divine actually is. This altar, which would have been used for different kinds of food and animal sacrifices, was their way of trying to grab this unknown god’s attention. The Athenians were doing what they could to reach out to God even though God had already reached out to them. Rather than digging into the Bible and his own Jewish identity, Paul invited those listening to him to remember their own story. The line “In him we live and move and have our being” was probably first written by the poet Epimendies and the words “for we too are his offspring” likely came from the poet Aratus hundreds of years before Jesus was born. Paul doesn’t, at first, use our scripture to show the Athenians who God is. Instead, he leaned into their own desire for grace, hope, and love, to show them what God had already done. The Athenians, up to this point in Paul’s sermon, probably thought Paul was simply naming the thoughts they already had. As he talked, he drew them deeper into who they thought they were. And they expected for Paul’s curiosity to lead them into a kind of thought experiment that felt abstract, holy, and mysterious. Yet Paul, without even naming Jesus, grounded the Athenians by showing how their unknown God had become known in a very particular time and place. God didn’t wait to be found before God decided to find those who needed to be welcomed and loved. By listening to the Athenians’ own story, Paul created space for them to do what none of us want to do: and that’s to repent. Repentance, in ancient Greek, is more than simply turning to God and turning away from sin. It’s more than what we typically do when we give up eating chocolate for Lent or decide that today we’re going to be a kinder person. Repentance is a deep re-orientation of our minds, opinions, and points of views so that we see ourselves and our world in a new way. Repentance is more than becoming the good person we think we’re supposed to be; it’s about joining in with God’s particular story of love, grace, and hope so that we become so much more. 

The Rev. Dr. Matthew Skinner, in his book Intrusive God, Disruptive Gospel, saw two big themes in Paul’s short speech to the Aergogaus. “First, it reminds us that salvation doesn’t exist in some pure, unadulterated form with no connection to human languages, cultures, and our foundational assumptions about the world. Paul preaches an enfleshed message: one enfleshed in the Athenians’ religious curiosity…God may disrupt or confound our preexisting understanding of what’s valuable or possible…but the message of God’s good news also connects to what we hope for and what we know.” 

“Second, Paul’s speech spotlights resurrected life as a core piece of Christian hope. The Easter message is about more than God undoing Jesus’ death; it is about a promise God makes to us in Jesus. God promises to change us… God values our embodied selves and intends a future for them.” It’s that last bit, I think, that describes the kind of story Paul was inviting the Athenians into. Repentance, while mindful of our past, is always about our future. It’s about a way of being in the world that says the particular life you are living matters because God, in Jesus, lived a particular kind of life too. When we share Jesus with others, we are inviting them into a future they can live in right now. And while I’ll admit that my default is to always encourage you to name  Jesus as the reason why we do what we do – from our worship, to our support of food ministries, to the meals we cook for one another when we’re in crisis, and including why we turn our church into a one-day thrift store to raise $10,000 or raise 1300 lbs of produce for the Tri-Boro Food Pantry – God also gives us the freedom to do what Paul did by learning another person’s story and showing how Jesus knows them too. That kind of sharing takes a little time and effort on our part, forcing us to leave our preconceived notions, assumptions, and points of views at the door while we discover what the world looks like through someone else’s eyes. But this is something we get to do because, in our baptism and in our faith, we’ve already been met by the Jesus who lived our life so that we could discover and see and know who God actually is. 

Amen. 

When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.” But Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord.” But he said to them, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.”
A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.” Thomas answered him, “My Lord and my God!” Jesus said to him, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.

John 20:19-31

My sermon from the 2nd Sunday of Easter (April 16, 2023) on John 20:19-31.

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About seven weeks ago, when the season of Lent began, the kids in Sunday School met inside the building to play with dirt. On the floor outside the church offices was a large tarp with a big bag of soil and several pink and green pots sitting on top. After talking a bit about the season of Lent and what it leads up to, each kid was given two small sticks and a bit of twine. With a little help from their parents and teachers, the kids crafted a Cross – and were then given a pot to fill. Once the pot was filled with dirt, each child then tossed in a bit of grass seed. There was much digging, pushing, and getting their hands dirty while making sure the seed was exactly where it needed to be. Once the planting was done, the Cross was placed on-top. The kids were thrilled they got to make something and couldn’t wait to see what comes next. But they soon realized how difficult waiting for new things can be. We often want to rush to the good stuff – to an Easter filled with daffodils, candy, presents, and joyous family gatherings. Yet getting to that point can be hard. And the waiting we do is often scary or boring or everything else in-between. I often find myself not sure what I’m supposed to do while waiting for what comes next. And I wonder what the waiting was like for Thomas after he heard about Jesus visiting all his friends – except him.

Now today’s reading from the gospel according to John is something we hear every year on the Sunday after Easter. Mary Magdalene, who – in John – was the very first person to visit Jesus’ tomb, had an experience no one else had. She reported to the other disciples that the door to the tomb was opened and when they came to investigate, they found Jesus’ burial clothes neatly folded where his body was expected to be. Everyone else returned to the city but Mary lingered in the garden where the tomb was. We get a sense that Mary’s waiting was exactly as difficult as we would imagine it to be. John doesn’t give us many details, letting Mary’s actions and words help our imagination to fill in the gaps. She, like all the disciples, were scared, anxious, and worried about what comes next. Some of them chose to stay locked in place while others probably made plans to leave the city. Others, though, didn’t even know if they had a home to go back to since they spent the last three years following Jesus. The waiting they did was full of prayer, tears, disbelief, and wondering if what happened to Jesus would also happen to them. Nothing about their waiting was passive since their futures were in flux, especially for the women and other vulnerable people who did the culturally dangerous thing of leaving where they were known to follow their Rabbi. Mary lingered and she waited. But then, in the garden, Jesus showed up. He called her by her name – and with one little word – everything changed.

Now we can see from the beginning of today’s reading that Mary’s story was momentous but the disciples were still being themselves. The door to their room was still locked and their grief, fear, worry, sadness, and confusion lived in that space. They were busy waiting but weren’t 100% sure what they were waiting for. But Mary’s words had, I believe, changed their waiting because, in the middle of that emotional, spiritual, and mental junk in the air – Mary’s story brought wonder, surprise, and hope into their world. They didn’t have her experience but her words had changed their story too. Something other than their worry and fear was now with them.

We don’t know, though, what Thomas was up to while Jesus was busy with everyone else. But we can imagine what he was feeling before Jesus showed up. He, like Mary and the other disciples, was scared, anxious, lost, and worried. Yet he, unlike them, wasn’t locked up in a room because his grief had already locked up all his emotions and thoughts. When he returned to the disciples and heard what Jesus had done, his response wasn’t disbelief. He, I think, simply wanted what they already had. He wanted Jesus to show up to him; to be so real that it made this faith thing worth it. Thomas wanted what we want: an experience that shows the promises spoken over us during baptism were not pretend. Thomas knew how to live with the Jesus he could see but he now needed to learn how to live with the Jesus he couldn’t. He, in essence, needed to do what we do everyday: meeting Jesus in a way that’s beyond flesh and blood. There’s a long tradition of calling Thomas a doubter since he had the courage to name what he wanted. I think, though, it’s much more accurate to simply call him one of us since we want our own experience of the resurrection too.
The life of faith is a life of waiting which isn’t always very fun. We wait for prayers to be answered, for guidance when every one of our choices feels wrong, and to know that we actually matter. This is a heavy kind of waiting that we do while living lives with their own joys, griefs, happiness, and sorrow. Thomas, during the week after that first Easter evening, waited for Jesus. But I wonder if his waiting was different since he heard a story he didn’t know before. There was now something else in the air that didn’t deny his grief but it promised that something more had a claim on his soul. His waiting was hard but he didn’t do it alone. Because even though he didn’t have their faith experience, the other disciples made sure he was included at their table. Their story and Thomas’ story were right there, mixed together in a room that was still locked in fear. Those early disciples didn’t do what we usually do: making the competition at the heart of our American story take over what we believe faith stories can be. Their table was big enough to hold whatever it was that people were waiting for. And when we gather together around Jesus’ table, we get to be like them: to share every one of our faith stories and how we are still looking to see him. We, because of our baptism and through our faith, get to be like Thomas, admitting what we need while, at the same time, being like Mary, and sharing when we have seen the Lord. We need to hear from one another when Jesus said our name and when we desperately need to touch his wounded side. These stories come in many shapes and forms, full of miracles and mysteries; visions from heaven and the kind of everyday love that looks very ordinary but is always so extraordinary. The stories and needs we share is often how God grows our faith because they assure us that we are not alone. Waiting in faith is one of the ways we live with faith since we are Thomas and Mary and all those who witness to the new story God is already writing. As we traverse through our ongoing wait with God, feel free to share your fears, doubts, worries, and concerns. Keep yourself open, welcoming, and nonjudgmental when someone reveals their walk with God. The story you hear or the words you share might be exactly how Jesus makes himself known. And while you might think such a story requires a miracle, it could also be fairly small such as noticing that the pot of soil you left outside; that you did nothing to care for; that was actually knocked over more than once; came to life when a few blades of grass appeared when Easter weekend broke.

Amen.

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

When he had gone out, Jesus said, “Now the Son of Man has been glorified, and God has been glorified in him. If God has been glorified in him, God will also glorify him in himself and will glorify him at once. Little children, I am with you only a little longer. You will look for me; and as I said to the Jews so now I say to you, ‘Where I am going, you cannot come.’ I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

John 13:1-17, 31b-35

My sermon from Maundy Thursday (April 6, 2023) on John 13:1-17, 31b-35.

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Earlier today I did something I don’t usually do: I went to a podiatrist. I have an ongoing issue that isn’t serious but does require some monthly treatments. As I was leaving last months’ visit, the receptionist at the doctor’s office wondered if I could come in next on April 6. That date sounded familiar to me but I didn’t have anything written down on my calendar. I made the appointment, went about my life, and it was only a few days later when I realized what I had done. On a night when feet are all over our reading from the gospel according to John, I was going to spend that morning having one of my poked and prodded by a doctor. The visit was… fine and I spent the rest of the day with only a tiny bit of pain while I prepared the sanctuary for worship. The discomfort from this morning’s treatment lingers but I am grateful I live in a place where access to medical care – using my wife’s health insurance – is readily accessible. By taking care of what holds me up, I’m able to pray, preach, wash, and serve. My feet working the way they do is not the limit of what ministry looks like since Jesus chooses all kinds of people with all kinds of bodies and with all kinds of abilities to further the kingdom of God. But I do think, though, that Jesus wants us to pay attention to what holds us up because that’s how we get through whatever comes next. 

Now one of the details that brings this idea out is something I hadn’t really noticed before. In the past, my attention has been focused on either Jesus’ actions or Peter’s reaction. Jesus, in the middle of a dinner, stood up, took off his outer robe, tied a towel around his waist, and then poured water into a basin. We can almost imagine the disciples sort of wondering what exactly Jesus was up to. The more Jesus went through the motions, the more the disciples could tell what he was doing because, right before dinner, their feet had already been washed. The streets in ancient Jerusalem were a bit of a mess since mechanical street sweepers, indoor plumbing, and regular garbage collection wasn’t a real thing. Apartments within the city were small and cramped which meant people spent most of their lives outside. Everything that ended up on the street would end up on people’s feet. And it was considered a basic act of hospitality to help guests leave what’s outside – outside when they entered someone’s home. People could wash their feet by themselves but it was considered more respectful to have someone in your household do that for every guest who walked through your doors. This gross task required a person to physically kneel at someone else’s feet which could be a problem in a world with clear definitions of who was, and who wasn’t, your social better. If a teacher, leader, influencer, or someone with a lot of money suddenly found themselves washing the feet of a student, a woman, someone enslaved or who was poor – the shame for both the washer and the washee would reverberate throughout their social circles. To avoid such a social faux pas, only the lowest of the lows in the household would wash people’s feet. The person who knelt before was supposed to be someone who you would never kneel to. Jesus, though, did exactly that which is why Peter’s reaction is completely understandable. Peter cried out because Jesus, who could literally walk on water, was acting as if he was nothing. Jesus gave up the honor he was given to spread water on the feet of those who were beneath him. That, on its own, was pretty shocking but that wasn’t the only reason Peter tried to change what Jesus was doing into a kind of baptism. Jesus wasn’t simply degrading himself; he also was implying that those following Jesus were worth more than Jesus himself. Jesus’ actions changed Peter from merely being a disciple into something more. Jesus took on the identity of the poor, the enslaved, the women, and the ones who were always at the bottom of the heap – to raise his disciples up and act like they were more than him. If Jesus had simply told the disciples to wash each other’s feet, Peter would have had no problem since they were all on the same social level. But on the night when he was handed over to the Roman authorities, Jesus showed these disciples that they would be more than they could ever imagine themselves to be. 

So with all that going on, you’d expect for the other disciples to speak up. Yet we have no idea what Andrew, Thomas, Philip, or even Judas thought when Jesus knelt at their feet. It’s possible each one behaved like Peter, completely freaking out when their teacher served them. But there’s enough space within the story to imagine that they didn’t. Maybe some were completely grossed out since they didn’t want their feet touched while they were eating. Maybe some of them sort of understood what Jesus was getting or weren’t really paying attention since they had a secret that was about to be revealed. We often make Jesus and Peter the foreground of this story but the other disciples, including Judas, were right there too. The feet washing, the feeding, and the blessing also included them because Jesus knew what was about to come next. After the washing, Judas would leave and their sense of community would come undone. Every one of their thoughts, expectations, and dreams about the future would soon be nailed to a Cross. The disciples believed they knew what held them up but that was going to completely fall apart. Jesus wanted the disciples – every disciple – to know that something else, something more, would bring them through. It wasn’t their faithfulness or strength or wealth or all the social accolades in the world that would lead them through what was going to come next. Rather, through it all, the One who claimed them as His own, would be there – because they, through baptism and faith, would be part of the body of Christ, forever. They were already more than who they could ever imagine themselves to be because the God of the universe chose them to serve and kneel at the feet of their friends. Through the love they shared with one another, they would be carried through. And when every Cross came their way, Jesus would be there to show them what love will do. 

Amen.

Now a certain man was ill, Lazarus of Bethany, the village of Mary and her sister Martha. Mary was the one who anointed the Lord with perfume and wiped his feet with her hair; her brother Lazarus was ill. So the sisters sent a message to Jesus, “Lord, he whom you love is ill.” But when Jesus heard it, he said, “This illness does not lead to death; rather it is for God’s glory, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it.” Accordingly, though Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus, after having heard that Lazarus was ill, he stayed two days longer in the place where he was. Then after this he said to the disciples, “Let us go to Judea again.” The disciples said to him, “Rabbi, the Jews were just now trying to stone you, and are you going there again?” Jesus answered, “Are there not twelve hours of daylight? Those who walk during the day do not stumble, because they see the light of this world. But those who walk at night stumble, because the light is not in them.” After saying this, he told them, “Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep, but I am going there to awaken him.” The disciples said to him, “Lord, if he has fallen asleep, he will be all right.” Jesus, however, had been speaking about his death, but they thought that he was referring merely to sleep. Then Jesus told them plainly, “Lazarus is dead. For your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe. But let us go to him.” Thomas, who was called the Twin, said to his fellow disciples, “Let us also go, that we may die with him.”

When Jesus arrived, he found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb four days. Now Bethany was near Jerusalem, some two miles away, and many of the Jews had come to Martha and Mary to console them about their brother. When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went and met him, while Mary stayed at home. Martha said to Jesus, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask of him.” Jesus said to her, “Your brother will rise again.” Martha said to him, “I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day.” Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?” She said to him, “Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world.” When she had said this, she went back and called her sister Mary, and told her privately, “The Teacher is here and is calling for you.” And when she heard it, she got up quickly and went to him. Now Jesus had not yet come to the village, but was still at the place where Martha had met him. The Jews who were with her in the house, consoling her, saw Mary get up quickly and go out. They followed her because they thought that she was going to the tomb to weep there. When Mary came where Jesus was and saw him, she knelt at his feet and said to him, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her also weeping, he was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved. He said, “Where have you laid him?” They said to him, “Lord, come and see.” Jesus began to weep. So the Jews said, “See how he loved him!” But some of them said, “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?” Then Jesus, again greatly disturbed, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone was lying against it. Jesus said, “Take away the stone.” Martha, the sister of the dead man, said to him, “Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead four days.” Jesus said to her, “Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?” So they took away the stone. And Jesus looked upward and said, “Father, I thank you for having heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I have said this for the sake of the crowd standing here, so that they may believe that you sent me.” When he had said this, he cried with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, “Unbind him, and let him go.”
Many of the Jews therefore, who had come with Mary and had seen what Jesus did, believed in him.

John 11:1-45

My sermon from the Fifth Sunday in Lent (March 26, 2023) on John 11:1-45.

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Two verses. Two verses are all John used to narrate one of the most dramatic moments in his book. Jesus, while standing outside Lazarus’ tomb, commanded him to come out – and he did. We would expect such a miraculous event to be described with a bit more detail since this kind of thing doesn’t happen every day. Yet what John gave us was a few of Jesus’ words and this mental picture of Lazarus wrapped in cloth. If we were the ones describing this moment, we’d probably flesh it out so that even Lazarus’ footsteps coming out of the tomb could be heard. But John, who is very good at adding the details needed to heighten the emotional and theological importance of any scene, spent his energy writing about everything that came before and after this moment. When we listen to this story, it’s reasonable for us to imagine the good news being tied to what Lazarus experienced since we’ve often wanted our loved ones to experience the same thing too. And yet, for John, the miracle that feels like it should be everything is only a tiny portion to what the gospel – the good news of Jesus Christ – is all about.

Now during the season of Lent, I’ve invited us to try and summarize our experience of the gospel into 50 words or less. We’ve been talking about it for five weeks and it still feels like a big ask. The word “gospel,” aka good news, was originally tied to the proclamations made in the ancient world by emperors, kings, and queens. But it became associated with Jesus either during, or immediately, after his public ministry. Paul, who wrote several letters to a variety of early Christian communities scattered around the Mediterranean Sea, summarized this gospel in his first letter to the Christian community in the ancient Greek town of Corinth. He wrote: the gospel is that “Christ died for our sins in accordance with the scriptures, and that he was buried, and that he was raised on the third day in accordance with the scriptures, and that he appeared to Cephas [aka Peter], then to the twelve.” For Paul, Jesus’ story revealed God’s story while also showed how people are included in what God was up to. The good news wasn’t only about what Jesus did but also how he showed up to people who were busy living their lives. We see this same idea in John’s own summary of the gospel, way back in chapter 3, when he wrote: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.” Bishop Craig Satterlee, while reflecting on John 3:16, made his own draft of the gospel to be that: God became human in Jesus and gave himself to the world, to be with us in everything, even the most horrible death; to draw the world to life God intends; and, by God’s Spirit, to free and empower us to live God’s abundant life now, because God loves us. These 3 examples might not be exactly how we would describe the gospel yet they reveal how Jesus showing up in our lives is part of what this good news is all about.

And that idea, I think, is why John took 37 verses to bring us, and Jesus, to Lazarus’ tomb. Jesus, at the end of chapter 10, is many miles away on the other side of the Jordan river, preaching and teaching to those who came to see him. While there, he received a message from Martha and Mary that Lazarus was sick. And we get the sense that Jesus and this family knew each other very well. Their relationship was so close that Mary and Martha knew how to send a message to this wandering preacher who didn’t stay in any one place for very long. When Jesus heard their message, he did something that I still struggle to understand. He waited, choosing to stay where he was for two days. It’s possible he had things or people around him he needed to take care of. Yet his hesitation also seems to match our own experiences of God since our prayers aren’t always answered as quickly as we wished. By the time Jesus met up with Lazarus’ family, Martha’s words became the ones we’ve said many times over. She, in her grief and through faith, wonders where Jesus has been. She doesn’t try to hide her emotions; nor is she anything other than who she is. She is fully herself and, in response, Jesus accepts her. He doesn’t dismiss her grief; or belittle her faith or hide what he’s going to do. Instead, he listens and then invites Martha to notice what God has already been doing. In their short back-and-forth, we see that Martha, like many of us, imagines – or at least acts – as if the good news only pertains to the future after we live our life. The news we see and hold onto applies to that moment when we meet God at the edge of forever, assuming our goodness will be accepted and held true. If the gospel was only about what comes next, then Jesus’ words identifying himself as “the resurrection” makes sense. But then he chose to keep going, pointing out how he was meant for the living of our lives too. The gospel isn’t only about our past or our future. This good news speaks into this moment because God is already invested in our lives.

So what exactly does this living look like? Well, it sometimes resembles what we will be doing [at our 10:30 am worship] [in just a few minutes] when we proclaim that God isn’t done forming us into the community we’re meant to be. We will welcome and celebrate the change that is coming to us as God baptizes Avery – a child who is already known and loved. With a little water, a dab of oil, and the light of a burning candle, she will hear how the promises of God belong to her forever. The creator of the universe will listen to her; care for her; and will value her even when others don’t. She will never be alone and we will be given the responsibility to model what this commitment from God actually looks like. While she lives her life, we will cry together, mourn together, celebrate together, talk back to God together, and become who we’re meant to be. Through it all, we will be led by God, who, in Jesus, showed us what life can be. The gospel for John, I think, isn’t about all the amazing things Jesus could do. Rather, it was how Jesus, who could do the impossible, chose to live and love and be with the rest of us – forever.

Avery’s summary of the gospel, like ours, will be shaped and formed through the life she lives. It will ebb, flow, change, and grow with this Jesus who will be with her through all things. No one word or phrase or even a fifty word summary can truly contain the fullness of what this good news can be. Yet the promise given to Martha while she was busy living her life is the same promise Jesus gives to Avery – and to us. We are seen. We are known. We are meant to bring the good news of Jesus into every aspect of our lives. And I hope and pray that Avery will, throughout her life, experience a little bit of what the gospel has meant to my life: specifically that the God who holds everything together isn’t done with anyone.

Amen.

As [Jesus] walked along, he saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” Jesus answered, “[Neither this man nor his parents sinned. In order that God’s works might be revealed in him, ] we must work the works of him who sent me while it is day; night is coming when no one can work. As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.” When he had said this, he spat on the ground and made mud with the saliva and spread the mud on the man’s eyes, saying to him, “Go, wash in the pool of Siloam” (which means Sent). Then he went and washed and came back able to see.

The neighbors and those who had seen him before as a beggar began to ask, “Is this not the man who used to sit and beg?” Some were saying, “It is he.” Others were saying, “No, but it is someone like him.” He kept saying, “I am the man.” But they kept asking him, “Then how were your eyes opened?” He answered, “The man called Jesus made mud, spread it on my eyes, and said to me, ‘Go to Siloam and wash.’ Then I went and washed and received my sight.” They said to him, “Where is he?” He said, “I do not know.”

They brought to the Pharisees the man who had formerly been blind. Now it was a sabbath day when Jesus made the mud and opened his eyes. Then the Pharisees also began to ask him how he had received his sight. He said to them, “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.” But 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 [Jewish 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 [Jewish leaders]; for [they]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, and yet he opened my eyes. We know that God does not listen to sinners, but he does listen to one who worships him and obeys his will. Never since the world began has it been heard that anyone opened the eyes of a person born blind. If this man were not from God, he could do nothing.” They answered him, “You were born entirely in sins, and are you trying to teach us?” And they drove him out.

Jesus heard that they had driven him out, and when he found him, he said, “Do you believe in the Son of Man?” He answered, “And who is he, sir? Tell me, so that I may believe in him.” Jesus said to him, “You have seen him, and the one speaking with you is he.” He said, “Lord, I believe.” And he worshiped him.

Jesus said, “I came into this world for judgment so that those who do not see may see, and those who do see may become blind.” Some of the Pharisees near him heard this and said to him, “Surely we are not blind, are we?” Jesus said to them, “If you were blind, you would not have sin. But now that you say, ‘We see,’ your sin remains.

John 9:1-41

My sermon from the Fourth Sunday in Lent (March 19, 2023) on John 9:1-41.

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Over the last few weeks, I’ve invited all of us to pay attention to our personal experience of the gospel. God’s good news is good news that makes a real difference in our lives. Yet that also makes the gospel a bit hard to describe since what’s good news to you might not be good news to the person sitting next to you. When I talk about the gospel, I use those moments in my life when God felt very real to me as examples for what this good news is all about. Those moments tend to be pretty scary, filled with grief and worry. God shows up to me when the boundary between life and death becomes a bit too blurred and the only thing I can do is rely on the God who is always with me. But this experience might not be your experience since God also comes to us through joy. The joy from God surrounds you, inspires you, and carries you through all the stuff life brings. And while my fifty word summary of the good news might not be as upbeat as the one you would write, both, I think, are necessary for us to flesh out what God is doing in our world. When we create the space needed to share all of our stories, we discover how God’s story is big enough to contain them all. And one way we notice this is by letting the story of God as recorded in our Bible show us how the good news will transform us into something more. 

Now there are many different metaphors we could use to describe what the Bible is all about. The one I use the most often comes from Martin Luther who described the Bible as the manager of Christ for us. Bishop Craig Satterlee, who I quoted last week, recently described the Bible as “the written record of God’s initiative and activity in human history and the world.” It is, in essence, a collection of God’s family’s story which, for Christians, is always rooted in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. One mental image we could use to hold together this collection of stories is to imagine it as a pond filled with water and then Jesus, as a rock, is dropped in its center. The ripples made by Jesus’ presence in the world radiate outward through time and space, thus shaping what these stories mean to us. When we read the Bible in a devotional, worshipful, or prayerful way, we look for the presence of Jesus. And while that isn’t always an easy thing to do, one way we start this process is by listening to the passage and asking: what’s the good news?  

Now I’ll admit I was ready to share with all of you my point of view about what the good news is in our long reading from John chapter 9. But when I sat down to write this part of the sermon, I read another sermon by a retired ELCA pastor that made me realize his experience of the gospel in this story is a bit more relevant than my own. Duane Steele was ordained in 1978 and he served for 32 years at Gladesboro Evangelical Lutheran Church in Hillsville, Virginia. He had a long and faithful ministry that has continued by subbing in for other preachers when they go on vacation. Pastor Steele has a very personal connection to the story of the man born blind because he, as well, has been blind his entire life. Instead of letting my own story be the lens through which Jesus’ story comes to life, I’m going to create some space to let Pastor Steele’s story reveal his experience of the gospel by quoting him at length.

I know what it’s like to live in the shadow of powerful labels… because I myself have been totally blind all my life. My earliest memories of going to church include the awkward whispers of neighbors who quietly asked my family if there might be any hope that I would be able to see someday. I wasn’t ashamed of being blind, but I did feel humiliated by the attitudes of people who were whispering about me as though I weren’t really there. Many people are so afraid of the dark, they simply can’t get past the word “blind” to see a real person beyond the label.

When Jesus and his disciples first encountered the man in John 9, the disciples assumed the man’s blindness was some kind of punishment for sin — and unfortunately, this attitude still exists today, even in our churches, where disability and sin are still being linked together in weird ways…. Jesus [though] clearly rejected this idea in John 9:3, saying, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him.” Some preachers interpret this to mean the man was born blind so that Jesus could come along and perform a miracle for all to see, but this interpretation robs the man of his humanity, reducing him to a mere prop in the story. Even the use of the word “healing” to describe this miracle implies that there was originally something “wrong” or “broken” about this man’s blindness, which seems quite the opposite of what Jesus was saying…Jesus made it clear that blindness does not prevent [anyone] from doing God’s will.

The neighbors assumed the man in John 9 had spent his life as a beggar, merely surviving instead of living out a real vocation. Jesus changed all that by giving the man not only eyesight but also a sense of mission. After performing a fairly common ancient medical procedure with saliva and mud, Jesus directed the man to wash in the Pool of Siloam, which we are told means “Sent.”

My Grandma Steele sent me to my own “Pool of Siloam,” which took the form of the New York Institute for the Education of the Blind, a school in the Bronx that provided the best education blind children of the 1950s and ’60s could receive. There, in addition to learning the usual academic subjects, I also became proficient in braille, I studied in a conservatory-level music program, and I made many lifelong friendships. Nowadays, most blind kids go to public school and hopefully learn similar skills while being part of diverse communities in their own neighborhoods. For us, “healing” happens when the people around us learn to heal their ignorance about us, when they learn to truly love and welcome us, when they realize that what we think and say and do matters.

The man in John 9 emerged from the Pool of Siloam with a sense of mission and self-worth that shocked his neighbors. They could not believe he was the same person, so they dragged him off to be examined by the local religious authorities.

The man in John 9 was [eventually] driven out of his community as punishment for his testimony, and when Jesus heard about this, he welcomed him as one of the many disciples who were spreading the Good News…In the Kingdom of God, we wear no labels other than our identity as the children of God… John 9 reminds us there is no blind or sighted, no “disabled” or “normal” — ALL of God’s children are called to live lives of discipleship in various ways…Our secular culture teaches us to compete or conform, but God calls us to a different way: working together, needing each other, [and] being the body of Christ.

For Pastor Steele, the good news in this story is the Jesus who chose, welcomed, and provided a sense of self-worth, love, value, and mission to the one the rest of us cast aside. Our good news might not be exactly like Pastor Steele’s good news yet his experience is meant for you too. You, as you are, are not an afterthought in the kingdom of God because you have been called to share, proclaim, and show what God’s love can do. As we wonder what our own fifty word summary of the gospel might be, it’s perfectly fine to lean on the words and stories in our Bible that help us discover how we are part of God’s story too. And we realize how this good news is more than simply words, we begin to participate in this gospel that challenges, upends, welcomes, includes, and transforms all our lives. 

Amen. 

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.”

John 4:5-42 (NRSVue)

My sermon from the Third Sunday in Lent (March 12, 2023) on John 4:5-42

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So we’re halfway through my sermon series on the word “gospel.” At its simplest, gospel is an ancient Greek word meaning “good news” and was typically used when an emperor, king, or queen wanted to make some kind of proclamation. During Jesus’ own ministry, or at least very quickly after it, that word became associated with Jesus himself. Near the end of the first century, four books about Jesus’ life and death were labeled by the early church as “the gospel according to Matthew, Mark, Luke, or John.” This good news speaks into every aspect of our wonderful, messy, and very human story in ways we don’t always notice or see. Yet it might seem a bit silly for us to try and summarize what that good news is since entire books in our Bible barely scratch the surface of what it all means. At this point, it might be helpful to share a couple examples of what these summaries might look like. And in fact, last week, we heard John’s own take of what the gospel is when 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. Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.” Those 52 words are awesome but, based on the verbs alone, there’s a lot to unpack. Our version might use similar language like what Bishop Craig Satterlee of the North/West Lower Michigan Synod did when he crafted his first draft of the gospel in 50 words or less. He wrote: God became human in Jesus and gave himself to the world, to be with us in everything, even the most horrible death; to draw the world to life God intends; and, by God’s Spirit, to free and empower us to live God’s abundant life now, because God loves us. That sounds fairly but it also feels a little stilted – missing that emotion about why this is good news for us. The good news of Jesus Christ is for everyone but that doesn’t mean the gospel is generic. The good news is good news – and today’s story from the gospel according to John might help us notice where in our own stories, the words for this good news might be found.

Now Jesus and the Samaritan woman at the well is actually the longest one-on-one conversation Jesus had with anyone in the gospels. We know, from his sermon on the mount and his farewell message to his friends at the Last Supper, that Jesus could be a bit of a talker. Yet his one-on-one interactions were typically short. Jesus, after visiting Jerusalem during the first year of his public ministry, headed back to Galilee and cut through the land of the Samaritans. Geographically, this makes sense because Samaria was between those two locations. Yet for centuries, Jews and Samaritans had done everything they could to avoid running into each other. Even though they shared similar beliefs about God, they didn’t get along very well so the usual journey from Jewish Galilee to Jewish Jerusalem went around the Samaritans. Jesus, though, led his disciples into a land they wanted to avoid. And once there, they stopped at a water well that was first established by Jacob, one of Abraham’s grandsons. The disciples went off to find some food, leaving Jesus all by himself when an unnamed Samaritan woman stopped by. 

If the setup for this scene sounds a bit cheeky, that’s because it is. In Jesus’ time, wells were the stereotypical places where romantic relationships were formed, such as when Jacob met his first wife Rachel. Wells were also places where the Bible introduces to us important women like Rebekah and Zipporah. Jesus’ presence at a well with an unknown woman is meant to make our eyes get a little kooky since romance could be in the air. But this time, in the words of Professor Jennifer Garcia Bashaw, instead of meeting a “blushing soon-to-be bride,” we meet “a wedding-weary woman.” Christian preachers have, for centuries, treated this unnamed woman as some kind of hyper-sexualized harlot – a titillating sinner who excites us. We define her as someone who is morally suspect because of her rather lengthy martial history. And the fact we don’t know her name invites us to turn her into a fantasy that shames her – which says more about us than it does about her. Yet it’s interesting how Jesus doesn’t do what we do. He doesn’t shame her or belittle her or really say anything about her marital relations. All he does is notice her and how she, unlike him, is prepared to actually be there. I imagine when she first spotted him that she did all she could to avoid him. But Jesus refused to let their cultural, religious, ethnic, and gender identities keep them apart. Unprompted, he initiated contact by demanding a drink of water without even saying please. She could have ignored him or, since he was a strange man, engaged in some small talk as a way to keep Jesus away. She, though, chose to engage with him – even making a joke comparing him to Jacob who created and fell in love at a well. Her words could have focused on their differences but she, in her own way, named what united them together. Jacob was, after all, “our ancestor” – which other Jews and Samaritans might not have agreed with. Jesus could have pushed back about what she said, affirming his own distinctive religious and cultural identity. Yet he, instead, used her words as a kind of foundational moment to reveal who this good news is for. 

By the time we get to Jesus’ statement about her husband, we’ve already started to notice how her marital status wasn’t what defined her. Her past is, most likely, not her fault. Because, as a woman, she was not in a position to “initiate divorce” and it’s possible she had been widowed or pushed aside by the many different men in her life. She might have even felt expendable but, in Jesus, she was indispensable. When she finally felt comfortable enough to reveal to this stranger her own thoughts about faith, God, and who the Messiah might be; Jesus said “I am (he.)” Our translation of this passage while, understandable, obscures what Jesus actually said. Rather than a rather mundane “I am he,” the actual Greek words match what God said when Moses asked for God’s name. Throughout the gospel of John, the “I am” statements usually come in two forms: either when it makes up the bulk of Jesus’ side of the conversation or when he connects it to things like “I am the bread of life.” But it’s here, while chatting with a Samaritan woman, that Jesus makes this specific “I am” claim as the Messiah which he doesn’t do with anyone else. He entrusted to this very unlikely person the truth about how he was and, in the process, revealed to her the truth of who she could become. 

It’s very easy, I think, to let the gospel be generic since we’re not sure if we really are the best ones to share what  this Jesus thing is all about. We’re grateful to be part of Jesus’ family yet when it comes to the gospel, we assume that someone else – who is a bit more faithful, a bit more charismatic, or maybe with a more interesting story – should be the one to share this good news with others. A generic sounding gospel feels a bit more safe since it can’t be contaminated by those, like us, whose faith isn’t always that strong. But Jesus, as we see in today’s story, didn’t choose just anyone to receive the good news: He chose you. You, right now, are necessary for what God is doing in this world. And during those moments when you, like the woman at the well, feel valued, loved, included, and seen rather than shamed – that’s when Jesus made himself real to you. Those are the moments in our lives that help us find the words and phrases that show how this good news is good for you. And we don’t need to be afraid to let the gospel include parts of our real story because Jesus has already included you in His. 

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 (NRSVue)

My sermon from the Second Sunday in Lent (March 5, 2023) on John 3:1-17.

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A few weeks ago, I participated in a meeting at my local high school that was really a conversation trying to create some action items the group could work on for the future. We were going to do some structured brainstorming around a complicated topic that impacts students, parents, teachers, and administrators. For this meeting to work, we needed a few ground rules to help keep the conversation focused and on track. So after re-introducing ourselves to one another, we talked about how we respectfully talk with each other. The rules we agreed to were mostly common sense like choosing to stay engaged by not staring at our phones when someone else was speaking. Yet a few rules had to be specific to the conversation we were having since participants were invited to share their own personal stories with all its wonder, joy, tears, and sorrow. These stories might make us laugh or cry or get really defensive since they could challenge what we believe about ourselves and our world. But the one ground rule that jumped out at me the most was how some of the stories we share might not include any closure that the rest of us could grab onto. Instead of listening to an experience with a well defined beginning, middle, and end, participants in that conversation might reveal something that’s still ongoing and might never end. These stories, especially those full of grief, worry, anxiety, insecurity, and discrimination, don’t always have an ending wrapped up with a neat little bow. The person sharing the story might stop speaking but that doesn’t mean that their story is over. We needed to expect and accept that the conversation created by the stories we shared wouldn’t actually end once our time together came to a close. And instead of seeking a kind of closure that we believe will give us peace, we should keep ourselves open to the new life this conversation might bring. 

Now today’s reading from the gospel according to John takes place at the beginning of John’s version of Jesus’ story. Jesus, after being pushed by his mother, turned water into wine at a private wedding before heading to Jerusalem to celebrate Passover. While in the city, Jesus became a bit of a public nuisance after nearly starting a riot when he drove out of the Temple the businesses helping people, especially travelers from far away, to perform the sacrifices the Bible asked them to do. Jesus’ act of driving the money changers and the animals out of the Temple increased his visibility among the leaders within the city. This is probably why Nicodemus, a local religious and political leader, came to see Jesus. He was curious – but also needed to be cautious. Nicodemus came to Jesus in the middle of the night, making sure no one else would see him. We get this sense that Nicodemus arrived unannounced, as if he walked into Jesus’ room without even knocking on the door. And once he was there, Nicodemus immediately began to speak, offering a kind of introductory statement that helps us see who Nicodemus imagined Jesus to be. He called him a Rabbi, a teacher, which might have been Nicodemus’ way of connecting Jesus to a known religious group within Judaism – the Pharisees. We also learn that Jesus was doing more in Jerusalem at the start of his public ministry than simply starting riots. Nicodemus had seen or heard how Jesus had begun to show what it means when the kingdom of God was near. To me, Nicodemus was very sincere in this moment even if we don’t know, fully, why he was with Jesus in the first place. Yet within his introductory words to Jesus, I hear a question that we are still asking today. Nicodemus wanted to know who Jesus was and why he mattered, which is a sensible question to ask Jesus at the start of his public ministry. Yet we, 2000 years after the Resurrection, wonder the same thing. We call him the Son of God, part of the Trinity, our Savior – but what that actually means is difficult to describe and even harder to live out. Being faithful isn’t always easy and asking who Jesus is – is a very faithful question especially during those times when a life without faith or a life with an inconsequential faith seems to work for plenty of folks around us. At the beginning of Jesus’ story, Nicodemus wondered if what he saw and heard about Jesus might be true and we often have the same question too. 

Now Jesus could have answered Nicodemus’ question right away with the answer we view THE answer to every Jesus question. He could have simply begun with John 3:16 as the good news meant for Nicodemus and the world. But it’s interesting that Jesus chooses to handle the entire conversation differently. He doesn’t rattle off a list of things Nicodemus should believe in nor does he give him a checklist of what is needed to earn eternal life. Jesus doesn’t begin his response by identifying himself as the Son of God or by pointing to himself as God on earth. Rather, Jesus looks at Nicodemus with compassion and offers a series of words to keep their conversation going. These words and phrases, while foundational to our Christian proclamation and to what we teach and share, are a bit weird, containing layers of meaning that would take a lifetime to unpack. Yet these weird words work because Nicodemus stayed engaged – asking questions that we, in his place, would ask too. The back and forth between the two includes references to Nicodemus’ own life and the sacred words that shaped who he was in the world. Jesus, way before his words in John 3:16, took the time to engage and form a relationship with this one who came to visit him in the dark. And after 3:16, he kept speaking – revealing how the good news was meant not only for the world but for Nicodemus too. 

We would expect that after such an encounter with Jesus, we would receive some kind of closure when it comes to Nicodemus’ story. He would either reject Jesus, accept Jesus, or sort of fade away into the background, never to be heard from again. Yet Nicodemus’ story with Jesus is a bit complicated because we never hear his response to Jesus after he heard words that would eventually be plastered on bumper stickers, flags, t-shirts, and faded yard signs all over northern New Jersey 2000 years later. Their time together in the middle of the night came to an end but that didn’t bring any closure to their story. Instead, Jesus’ relationship with Nicodemus continued and we see Nicodemus two more times in the gospel according to John. For a brief moment in chapter 7, Nicodemus stands up for Jesus when other leaders tried to condemn him without a trial. And then, twelve chapters later and after Jesus died on the Cross, we watch as Nicodemus partners with Joseph of Arimathea to reverently bury Jesus in the tomb. In the years between his first meeting with Jesus in Jerusalem and that final moment in the tomb, we never hear Nicodemus’ full faith story. We never hear him confess Jesus as Savior or Lord or the Messiah. And there’s no real sense that he considered himself a follower of Jesus even though he was there when everyone else had feld. There’s no closure to Nicodemus’ faith story. The only thing we seem to see is that his connection to Jesus never seems to end. And that, maybe, is a bit of what the good news is all about. Jesus didn’t give up on Nicodemus and he, through baptism and in faith, promises to never give up on you. The good news of Jesus Christ is big enough to speak into every aspect of your wonderful, messy, and very human story. And this news isn’t meant to bring closure to our story because its purpose is to open us to God and what God is doing in our lives and in our world. As we sit with the gospel and ponder how to put our experience into words, know that one of the ground rules for this gospel is that it isn’t only for us. The good news of Jesus is for everyone – and it often weaves through our lives in ways not everyone can see. Through grace, mercy, patience, and love, Jesus continues to reach out while leading us into a new kind of life that keeps us open to all. 

Amen.

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

Matthew 17:1-9

My sermon from Transfiguration Sunday (February 19, 2023) on Matthew 17:1-9.

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One of the amazing things about our Bible is that it’s a really big story – but one that holds a million other stories within it. As Lutheran Christians, we proclaim the Bible to be like manger on Christmas Eve. Within these words, we meet Jesus and see God’s commitment to the world God loves. This story was given to us through writings that were pulled together over a 1400 year period by people living in and with the Spirit of God. None of that living was easy yet God’s faithfulness endured. We, in the year 2023, have been living with the Bible in its current form for roughly 1700 years. So that means we’re pretty comfortable hearing about Jesus’ birth and seeing how His story continued through the Cross. When it comes to Jesus’ story, we know what comes next. But that gift to us wasn’t initially given to those who first met Jesus while he traveled through ancient Palestine, Israel, and Syria almost 2000 years ago. John, James, Peter, and everyone else didn’t have the end of Jesus’ story to help them understand what their current experience of Jesus was all about. He was simply a prophet, a rabbi, a teacher, a miracle worker, the Messiah, and a divine presence that gave hope to those who were in need. Jesus had many layers but when their story got hard or scary or really confusing, the disciples didn’t have the entirety of Jesus’ story to fall back on. They had to figure things out while they were living through it which created a million little stories showcasing their interactions with God. They didn’t know how the bigger story was impacting all their little stories of love, life, struggle, and hope. All they had was this Jesus who chose to spend a lot of time living with and in the stories that made up their lives. 

Now I know we can’t really forget that we are living on the other side of the Cross, the Resurrection, and the Ascension. Jesus’ story, for us, will always be framed by what came next. We can, however, choose to not let that One story warp our expectations for the disciples since they didn’t even know what they didn’t know. To them, each little moment with Jesus was part of a bigger story they couldn’t fully see. And while that big story mattered, their smaller stories with Jesus mattered too. 

This balancing of a big story with little stories is something I tend to struggle with especially when I’m watching a tv show, a play, or a musical. I focus on the plot, the narrative, and each character as they bring to life a big story full of all kinds of drama and meaning. My view is limited to whatever script is unfolding before me. Yet there is, at the same time, more happening on the screen than meets the eye since this big story is being told by actors who have their own stories too. I was recently reminded of this while listening to a podcast hosted by the actor Jeff Hiller who plays the character Joel in the critically acclaimed HBO show Somebody Somewhere. The show centers around people living through grief and loss while spending the middle part of life living in Manhattan – Kansas. And while Joel isn’t the main character of the show, he doesn’t fit any usual stereotype since he’s a 40-something gay man sustained by his faith in small town America. The Holywood Reporter described Joel as kind of “an anxious wreck, but also a steadfast leader. He’s so generous, you might mistake him for a pushover, but strong enough to protect his own heart and the hearts of the people (or the recently adopted dog) he loves. He’s a total dork, but one so earnest in his total dorkiness that he comes back around to being kind of cool, in the way that anyone so completely themselves feels kind of cool.” Joel is the perfect character of the big story the show is trying to tell yet he comes to life because an actor named Jeff Hiller makes him who he is. Now Jeff is the kind of actor who’s bio is full of an incredible number of off-off-off-off-off-off Broadway shows, guest appearances, commercials, and everything else it takes to be a working actor in NYC who can actually afford their own health insurance. For over 20 years, Jeff has lived through the grind of auditions, rejections, worry, anxiety, and joys that come with living their life as a comedian and an actor. A few years ago, before Jeff became a series regular on their first critically acclaimed show, they launched with a friend a podcast about what it takes to simply make it to the middle. Their show is about how difficult, exciting, and life giving things can still be even when you’re not the star of your own show. On a recent episode, a guest named Ryan Haddad, pointed out how Jeff’s story and Joel’s story both mattered to one another. Joel was a big hit, with a big story to tell, but one that came into fruition because of the years and years it took Jeff to get to this “mountain of a show.” Without Jeff’s stories, Joel’s big story couldn’t really get to where it needed to be. And when we only notice that big story, we miss the little stories that show how life can be. 

The story of Transfiguration, when James, John, and Peter experienced Jesus as if he was lit up like the Las Vegas Strip – is a manifestation of Jesus’ big story that we often long for and adore. He is, for a brief moment, everything we imagine divine power to be and I can’t tell you how many times over the past six weeks my personal prayer life has seeked out this kind of Jesus since too many people have been going through way too much. I want this over the top Jesus to show up, right now, and reveal what God’s love can do. And yet what God’s love chose to do is to make that love real in stories that, from the outside, appear way too small. To me, the power of the Transfiguration is not Jesus’ transformation but the words he offered to those who were bent over, covering their faces, and who felt confused, worried, and scared. These disciples weren’t always the most faithful of Jesus’ followers, often arguing about which one of them was the greatest and who had no problem arguing with Jesus about how his story was supposed to turn out. They, along with the other disciples, weren’t always keen about who Jesus invited into their midst. And when it looked like the end of Jesus’ story had come, they, along with others, let him face the Cross on his own. Yet these imperfect people, with their own stories of hurt, pain, love, and laughter, were the ones Jesus spoke. He reached out to them and simply told them to not be afraid. This wasn’t, I think, Jesus trying to deny what they were feeling nor was he telling them to be more than what they were. Instead, Jesus wanted them to see how God was doing what God always did: coming down from the mountain to live in every one of the stories that made them who they were. Jesus wouldn’t stay lit up like a Christmas tree but would make the time to live in our stories while we lived in His. Jesus’ promise to us is not that we’ll never go through life without fear, doubts, questions, or never feel as if God is too far away. Rather what Jesus wants you to know is that because of baptism, faith, and God’s faithfulness to you – Jesus will always be there to say “get up and do not be afraid.” Your story is already wrapped up in the bigger story of what God’s love is already doing in the world. And while we might focus on the big story by keeping our eyes on God’s plan or purpose or direction for our world, I often lean on God’s promises because those are big enough to hold every story that makes us who we are. We might not be able to fully see how this big story will finally turn out but we can trust that your story and God’s story will never be torn apart. 

Amen.