Category: Sermons

“For the kingdom of heaven is like a landowner who went out early in the morning to hire laborers for his vineyard. After agreeing with the laborers for the usual daily wage, he sent them into his vineyard. When he went out about nine o’clock, he saw others standing idle in the marketplace; and he said to them, ‘You also go into the vineyard, and I will pay you whatever is right.’ So they went. When he went out again about noon and about three o’clock, he did the same. And about five o’clock he went out and found others standing around; and he said to them, ‘Why are you standing here idle all day?’ They said to him, ‘Because no one has hired us.’ He said to them, ‘You also go into the vineyard.’ When evening came, the owner of the vineyard said to his manager, ‘Call the laborers and give them their pay, beginning with the last and then going to the first.’ When those hired about five o’clock came, each of them received the usual daily wage. Now when the first came, they thought they would receive more; but each of them also received the usual daily wage. And when they received it, they grumbled against the landowner, saying, ‘These last worked only one hour, and you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the day and the scorching heat.’ But he replied to one of them, ‘Friend, I am doing you no wrong; did you not agree with me for the usual daily wage? Take what belongs to you and go; I choose to give to this last the same as I give to you. Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me? Or are you envious because I am generous?’ So the last will be first, and the first will be last.”

Matthew 20:1-16

My sermon from the Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost (September 24, 2023) on Matthew 20:1-16.

A couple weeks ago, a trend on TikTok had people asking their husbands and boyfriends how often they think about the Roman Empire. On one level, it’s sort of a weird question since the Roman Empire, especially the part centered on the city of Rome itself, collapsed over 1500 years ago. Yet what was striking was how often, without hesitation, people admitted they thought about the Roman Empire every day. That doesn’t, necessarily, mean they’re obsessed with it since most of us probably think about the things we’re interested in quite often. But it does mean that among the people around you, at least one would love it if you asked them what SPQR actually means. This fascination with the Roman Empire tends to skew male since so much of the Roman story was shaped by a male lens. This allows, in the words of Mike Duncan, a man who turned his thinking about Rome into a successful podcast – men to do a lot of historical fantasizing since “we can see men who were poor, men who were middle-aged, men who were smart, men who were dumb, men who were emperors. Every available option is” open to them. The Roman story, though, is much bigger since it shaped our culture and our practice as the church in very tangible ways. Taking the time to ponder, wonder, and sit with something we find really interesting is a very human thing to do. And today’s parable from the gospel according to Matthew is Jesus’ way, I think, of inviting us to purposefully spend a bit of every day thinking about a specific characteristic of our God. 

This parable, in some ways, is a continuation of what we heard last week. Jesus told a story about the kingdom of God being like a generous king who showcased what forgiveness is supposed to do. Today’s story, which Jesus shared immediately after, described the kingdom of God as if it included a generous employer whose hiring practices were a bit bizarre. The employer arrived at the local market at the break of day, looking for day laborers. He found some who, after agreeing to the typical daily wage, were then sent into the vineyard. A few hours later, he came back and, for some reason, hired a few more. It’s possible these new folks had been initially passed over because they were too small or too ill to properly tend to the vineyard. But it’s also possible they arrived late after dropping their kids off at the ancient Israeli equivalent of daycare. Either way, they were chosen while others were left to wait in the marketplace. Many, though, didn’t have to wait very long because at 12 noon, 3 pm, and 5 pm, he came back to hire even more. We find ourselves in a strange situation where people who did very little were promised to receive the same as everyone else. Now the employer could have hidden what he was doing, by paying those who started the day first and sending them out before he paid everyone else. But instead, he called everyone together and paid those who started late, first. Those who worked all day, when they saw what the others were paid, assumed they would receive more. Yet when they looked at the coins placed in their hands, they saw the equal wage they were paid. This was, without a doubt, completely unfair which is why they, rightfully, complained. It felt as if they were being pushed aside and undervalued. As they simmered in anger, frustration, and a bit of confusion, I get a sense that a rage against those who they imagined had done less began to grow. In protest, those who had worked since dawn, pointed to all the things they had done. They mentioned their hard work, the length of their service, and all their personal qualities related to their time in  the vineyard. They identified what they, and we, believe they deserved. And, in response, their employer looked at them and said “tough.” He doesn’t invalidate their feelings nor does he say that their complaints aren’t true. Rather, he invites them to think about things differently by noticing one of his inherent qualities. He was free to reward others as he saw fit. And so what they received was not based on their hard work, their abilities, or even in their sense of fairness or equality. What mattered most was that the employer had a holy generosity that shaped everything that the employer chose to do. 

Generosity is easy to talk about but difficult to put into practice because it has to be willing to risk, and trust that there is always enough. We know, from our own lives, how hard that can be since an illness, an injury, a loss of employment, or a lack of opportunities can wipe away what we can place on our table. And we also live in communities and in a world with social media, tv, radio, newspapers, books, and all kinds of tools that show, and tell us, all about those who we think don’t deserve what they receive. The reasons we have for these kinds of thoughts are, we imagine, are always truthful, honest, and incredibly fair. Yet I wonder if at the heart of all those thoughts is a deep rooted sense of scarcity that believes, more than anything, that there’s only so much that can go around. Any generosity we offer, then, must be small, self-contained, and limited by the qualities of those who receive whatever we choose to give. And while we should be the proper stewards of every gift God gives, we often pretend that this scarcity is really a wisdom that ends up limiting how free we choose to be. We let the voices around and in us act as if the voice of God proclaimed that there never is, nor ever will be, enough for our lives, our world, and our souls. Yet the God who, in baptism and in faith generosity claimed as God’s own, constantly shows us how this isn’t true. It isn’t our goodness, our faithfulness, our success, our good looks, or whatever our culture uses to define who is worthy and who isn’t – that brings us into the body of Christ. It is, instead, God’s free and generous gift that knew the church couldn’t be what it’s supposed to be with you as a part of it.  There’s something pretty awesome about knowing how far God will go, even to death on the Cross, to show much we belong. But if we’re not too careful, we can act as if this free gift is a limited gift that’s for us alone. It should, though, instill within us a sense of awe, responsibility, and even a little fear that the God who could include anyone decided that, in Christ, we – as we are – are part of what God is up to. This is one aspect of answering the call Jesus has already placed on our lives. And it in, and through him, we are invited to think differently about ourselves and our world. Rather than letting scarcity be what primarily defines us, we get to wonder what it would mean to let the generosity displayed in this parable be at the heart of who we are. What if, every day, instead of reflecting on the Roman Empire or whatever else we’re interested in – we chose to make God’s generosity one of our daily thoughts too? It would, I think, help us get better at recognizing our greatest needs while, at the same time, showing how generous we can be. By shifting our thinking towards God’s radical, inclusive, and over-the-top generosity, we might untangle that sense of the scarcity that has warped what generosity can be about.  And I can’t wait to see how our thoughts can, with Jesus’ help, make God’s free, holy, and unimaginable generosity become the primary characteristic of who we get to be. 

Amen. 

Then Peter came and said to him, “Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?” Jesus said to him, “Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times. “For this reason the kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who wished to settle accounts with his slaves. When he began the reckoning, one who owed him ten thousand talents was brought to him; and, as he could not pay, his lord ordered him to be sold, together with his wife and children and all his possessions, and payment to be made. So the slave fell on his knees before him, saying, ‘Have patience with me, and I will pay you everything.’ And out of pity for him, the lord of that slave released him and forgave him the debt. But that same slave, as he went out, came upon one of his fellow slaves who owed him a hundred denarii; and seizing him by the throat, he said, ‘Pay what you owe.’ Then his fellow slave fell down and pleaded with him, ‘Have patience with me, and I will pay you.’ But he refused; then he went and threw him into prison until he would pay the debt. When his fellow slaves saw what had happened, they were greatly distressed, and they went and reported to their lord all that had taken place. Then his lord summoned him and said to him, ‘You wicked slave! I forgave you all that debt because you pleaded with me. Should you not have had mercy on your fellow slave, as I had mercy on you?’ And in anger his lord handed him over to be tortured until he would pay his entire debt. So my heavenly Father will also do to every one of you, if you do not forgive your brother or sister from your heart.”

Matthew 18:21-35

My sermon from the Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost (September 17, 2023) on Matthew 18:21-35.

So something I don’t know much about is whether professional athletes – or their agents – get to choose the picture used on their trading card? I would think, on some level, that they’d want the chance to select a photo showcasing their strength, confidence, and athleticism. An action shot showing a diving catch, an incredible dunk, or an unbelievable kick, combined with an intense emotional stare, would be the shot every athlete would pick. But if they don’t choose, then their card might look like it belongs in the 1973 edition of Topps baseball cards. Most of those cards are pretty basic, with the ballplayer either holding a bat, fielding a ball, or posing as if they’re taking a photo for their driver’s license. Yet there are other cards which are a little different. Steve Garvey, 3rd baseman for the Los Angeles Dodgers, was photographed strolling down the baseline towards home plate. However, standing in front of him was another Dodgers player whose backside practically hid Steve Garvey from view. Willie Davis, who also played for the Dodgers, was immortalized for all time on his card with a photo of him in shock after nearing being hit by the ball. Ellie Rodriguez, catcher for the Milwaukee Brewers, wasn’t even on his card, replaced by the butt of an umpire and the catcher for the Minnesota Twins. All of these athletes probably had a million other athletic snapshots they wish were highlighted on their baseball cards instead. But what they got was that one moment when they were anything but their best. 

Today’s parable – the short story we just heard Jesus tell – pictures someone who also wasn’t at their best. It began in a very Jesus-y way by telling us what the parable is about. It’s not merely meant to be a description of God’s reign in heaven. Instead, it’s about what life is supposed to be like when God shows up. We meet a king – a ruler with incredible power – who enslaved a number of people. At some point in the past, he gave a few of them an unknown task that involved the handing, or creation, of a lot of money. The king brought the entire community together and decided, in a very public way, to go over everyone’s books. The first enslaved person we hear about is one who managed to create a financial obligation of almost unimaginable size. We don’t need to know how much a talent was actually worth since Jesus simply took the largest named numerical value in his world, aka 10,000, and attached to it the largest monetary value as well. If Jesus was telling this story today, he’d probably use a similar number in the range of $10 trillion dollars – or higher. The king chose to empower someone with no social power – to generate a debt that, in reality, could never be paid back. Even though the king knew this, he ordered the slave to be imprisoned and his family sold. Desperate, the enslaved person made a promise – saying they would find some way to pay it back. The king, after listening to this promise they also knew would never be fulfilled, then did something that none of the people listening to Jesus’ story – the enslaved, the tenant farmers, those who lived with immense debt, and those who could make other indebted to them – something none of them had ever experienced. The king forgave it and canceled the entire debt. 

Now if Jesus’ story had ended there, we’d have a short parable that could easily fit on anyone’s spiritual baseball card. The picture on the front for the king would be filled with grace and the newly forgiven slave would be shown having this immense emotional, spiritual, and financial weight lifted from their shoulders. Jesus’ parable could then be defined as a feel-good story about paying attention to the kind of forgiveness we receive from God. The story, though, continued and we saw the one who was forgiven refuse to offer that same forgiveness to others. Before the gathered community, he grabbed the debtor by the neck and threw him into prison. That behavior is pretty shocking though we, in our own ways, have experienced that or done the same thing to others. It’s not difficult for us to blame the newly forgiven for their behavior yet those who heard Jesus tell this story also recognized within it the environment that shaped that enslaved person’s action. In the greco-roman-near-eastern culture that surrounded them, creating specific obligations between people was how relationships were defined. Those with power – and those who society said had none – were constantly negotiating with each other the opportunities and privileges that would enable them to survive. Being in-debt and or having the options to make folks indebted to them was often how people formed the kinds of social bonds keeping their community together. It was more than simply scratching the back that scratches yours since it determined who you talked to, hung out with, where you worked, and who you married. When the newly forgiven had their debt wiped away, they probably felt as if they had now had a new obligation to fulfill with their king. He, after all, still owned him and had the power to upend his life. Everyone, including those listening to the story, assumed that the normal social contract was still intact even though the irony of the forgiven not forgiving was obvious to see. When the king learned what happened, he was furious and invited everyone to discover just how unbelievable the forgiveness he offered truly was. The king didn’t just simply cancel their debt; he also shifted the obligation that defined their relationship. The practice of forgiveness didn’t just change the enslaved person’s life; it was also meant to change the community’s life too. In the words of Richard Lischer, this parable “is not merely a story of God’s forgiveness wasted, or a tale of human fallibility, but” an illustration of what happens within communities where forgiveness isn’t found. “When we refuse, [within the Christian community], to forgive we cancel the [very] identity of God.” Forgiveness isn’t merely something we do; forgiveness is what happens when God’s kingdom comes near. 

Now forgiveness, itself, is complicated since the forgiveness we need and the forgiveness we offer is always going to be very specific. Yet within Jesus’ story we glimpse a vision of what this forgiveness is supposed to do. Forgiveness isn’t forgetting nor is forgiveness primarily the responsibility of the victim rather than the one who did harm. Forgiveness isn’t about returning to how things were but, instead, makes us free by breaking what binds us and others. Forgiveness is gracious, transforming and making holy the ways we relate, listen, and live with each other. Forgiveness empowers us to take full responsibility, in a very public way, of the harm we cause others. And forgiveness refuses to keep score because, through Christ, it knows we’ve already won. If what we’re asking for or offering to others doesn’t free them or help them or repair the harm that’s impacted their lives, then what we’re giving isn’t forgiveness at all. Forgiveness helps us – and others – thrive – and is supposed to be front and center on our spiritual baseball card. If we could choose the picture on the front of that card, we’d probably pick something showing us offering forgiveness, love, or grace. But what we’d actually get would probably be a picture of when our choices, behaviors, points of view, actions, and inactions – showed how we needed forgiveness in the first place. It wouldn’t be the kind of set we’d spend money to collect but it would be one that’s truly honest because it would reveal why we’d need Jesus on the front of that card too. We often struggle practicing forgiveness since we refuse to truly admit the harm we cause, often acting as if our intentions matter more than the impact of our actions. We, like the enslaved man, quickly forget what forgiveness feels like. Yet we, through baptism and faith, have already been wrapped up in a forgiveness that doesn’t end. It’s through God and in Christ where we discover a grace that is not defined by our obligations but by an abundance that focuses us on our Lord and on our neighbors. It’s never too late for us to own the harm we cause, repair the relationships we’ve shattered, and lean into the limitless love that has a hold on us. We can, when it’s safe and holy and sure, learn how to forgive because our God is already head. 

Amen.

The Lord said to Moses and Aaron in the land of Egypt: This month shall mark for you the beginning of months; it shall be the first month of the year for you. Tell the whole congregation of Israel that on the tenth of this month they are to take a lamb for each family, a lamb for each household. If a household is too small for a whole lamb, it shall join its closest neighbor in obtaining one; the lamb shall be divided in proportion to the number of people who eat of it. Your lamb shall be without blemish, a year-old male; you may take it from the sheep or from the goats. You shall keep it until the fourteenth day of this month; then the whole assembled congregation of Israel shall slaughter it at twilight. They shall take some of the blood and put it on the two doorposts and the lintel of the houses in which they eat it. They shall eat the lamb that same night; they shall eat it roasted over the fire with unleavened bread and bitter herbs. Do not eat any of it raw or boiled in water, but roasted over the fire, with its head, legs, and inner organs. You shall let none of it remain until the morning; anything that remains until the morning you shall burn. This is how you shall eat it: your loins girded, your sandals on your feet, and your staff in your hand; and you shall eat it hurriedly. It is the passover of the Lord. For I will pass through the land of Egypt that night, and I will strike down every firstborn in the land of Egypt, both human beings and animals; on all the gods of Egypt I will execute judgments: I am the Lord. The blood shall be a sign for you on the houses where you live: when I see the blood, I will pass over you, and no plague shall destroy you when I strike the land of Egypt. This day shall be a day of remembrance for you. You shall celebrate it as a festival to the Lord; throughout your generations you shall observe it as a perpetual ordinance.

Exodus 12:1-14

My sermon from the Fifteenth Sunday after Pentecost (September 10, 2023) on Exodus 12:1-14.

A couple of weeks ago, after I put my kids to bed, I took a seat in my gray easy chair, opened up my laptop, and got ready to learn about Bloodborne Pathogens. The Fall sports season was about to begin and my town’s rec leagues, like every other volunteer based organizations, needed a little help. I know that most of us are too busy, too stretched, and too tired to do all the things that need to be done. And while we do our best to set our priorities, it doesn’t take much for everything to fall apart. It’s tricky to know how, and in what way, we can contribute in the communities we are called to live in. But I figured taking a few required training courses, including one about blood, is how I can contribute on the Cross Country field this year. And I noticed, while reflecting on our first reading from the book of Exodus, how contributing and participating in the community is within God’s words about a sacred meal.

Now a lot has happened since last week when we heard about Moses meeting God on a mountain top. After fleeing the land of Egypt after spilling the blood of an Egyptian who had brutalized an enslaved Israelite, Moses built a new life for himself in the land of Midian. He married into the family of a local religious leader, started a family, and took on the task of managing his father-in-law’s sheep. One day, nearly a generation after he left Egypt, he led the sheep to the base of Mt. Sinai. While there, his curiosity drew him to notice a burning bush that didn’t burn up. God, who was in the bush, told Moses it was time for him to return to Egypt and let Moses’ kin know God had heard their cries. The attempt by the Egyptians to distort their own history and exploit the lives of others was coming to an end. Moses went back to Egypt, bringing a word of promise to the Israelites and a word of warning to the Pharaoh. But the Pharaoh refused to listen so God created the first plague, transforming the water in the Nile River to blood. That, though, merely made the Pharaoh more stubborn so God sent 9 more plagues into the land. In quick succession, frogs, gnats, and flies covered the land. All the livestock was struck by a deadly disease and boils appeared on everyone’s skin. A massive storm pummeled every city while locusts devoured every green thing to its root. God then covered the land with a deep darkness that, on-top of everything else, should have convinced the Pharaoh to simply give up. Yet the king of the Egyptians refused to be moved so God promised that a final plague was on its way. Every one of the plagues was, in its own way, a response to what the Isrealites had experienced. The Pharaoh had used them to build the Egyptians economy so God took all of that away. The last plague, though, would mimic the original command that caused Moses to be placed floating in a basket after he was born. The Egyptians used violence and death as a way to tear apart the Israelite’s community. God in response, was going to do the same to them. Now we’d expect after all this excitement and tension and drama within the story, that the words immediately following God’s promise would show exactly what God was doing to do. But before the one final plagues comes, everything is interrupted by God’s description of a meal.

The meal, appearing at this moment in the story, feels a bit out of place since it doesn’t feel big enough to commemorate what’s about to take place. The food God told them to eat is pretty simple and everyone must dress as if they’re about to rush out the front door. The main course, the lamb or goat, is singled out for a ritual where its blood is brushed onto the outside of the door frame so that anyone coming by would notice who is gathered there. The blood acts as a kind of marker even though I’d expect the creator of the universe to know who’s already inside the home. Up to this point in the story, none of the plagues required the Israelites to do anything to make them happen. Yet here, before this climactic moment, God gives the community something to do. It’s almost, I think, as if God told the people that in the midst of everything – they could still contribute something to their world too. Much of what the Pharaoh and Egyptians had tried to do was to isolate, oppress, and diminish who the Isrealites got to be. And so, in response, God gave them a meal which could show who they would be instead. The meal, like all meals, begins with the people around the table. God wanted these tablemates to be connected but still diverse, welcoming, and suppurative. Their connection to each other invited them into the difficult work of truly knowing who their neighbors were. And, in that process, being very honest about their own abundance or lack there-of. Everyone had a place at the table and God wanted them to participate in making it happen. And it’s only after the table is set when food is finally served. The meal is simple yet points to the complexities and variety of life. The blood on the door mimics the blood in our bodies, an animating force that doesn’t serve as some kind of insurance against the wrath that’s about to come. It is, instead, a proclamation that the community gathered around God’s table will be defined, shaped, and rooted in something other than all the blood the Pharaoh tried to spill. They will have a future, a new life, shaped, formed, and nurtured by the One who had already claimed them as God’s own.

And one way this shaping takes place is through a meal. It’s there where God’s passover took shape, showing what life with God might look like. It’s around a table where God passed over and upended the contributions we make to the world that take life rather than animates it. It’s while wearing garments rooted in our complicated story where God passed over our attempts to forget or distort our history by choosing to highlight a few privileged voices at the expense of others. It’s over a few simple foods where God passed over our lack of curiosity to invite us deeper into God’s vision for our world. And it’s through God’s ongoing work that our love of power, control, and violence was passed over for something more. As Christians, engaging with the story of Passover isn’t easy since it’s not as foundational to our own story as it is to our Jewish friends and neighbors. Yet within our faith is another powerful simple meal that shapes us too. In that meal, the promises declared to us in baptism and faith are lived out in the ways we love and mutually support one another. In the meal of Holy Communion, we discover who God knows we can be. God’s vision and Jesus’ presence among us is what, as disciples, animates what we say, think, and do. And when we eat around the Lord’s table, we become something more too. It’s these sacred meals that show us who we can be and how, through simple acts, we can contribute to the vision God is making real all around us. And while that’s often hard to see, it’s through our honesty, empathy, and doing what we can to prioritize God’s way rather than our own, that we discover how different things can be.

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.