Sermon: What to do with Issac, Abraham, and an unlikely sacrifice?

After these things God tested Abraham. He said to him, “Abraham!” And he said, “Here I am.” He said, “Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains that I shall show you.” So Abraham rose early in the morning, saddled his donkey, and took two of his young men with him and his son Isaac; he cut the wood for the burnt offering and set out and went to the place in the distance that God had shown him. On the third day Abraham looked up and saw the place far away. Then Abraham said to his young men, “Stay here with the donkey; the boy and I will go over there; we will worship, and then we will come back to you.” Abraham took the wood of the burnt offering and laid it on his son Isaac, and he himself carried the fire and the knife.

And the two of them walked on together. Isaac said to his father Abraham, “Father!” And he said, “Here I am, my son.” He said, “The fire and the wood are here, but where is the lamb for a burnt offering?” Abraham said, “God himself will provide the lamb for a burnt offering, my son.” And the two of them walked on together.
When they came to the place that God had shown him, Abraham built an altar there and laid the wood in order. He bound his son Isaac and laid him on the altar on top of the wood. Then Abraham reached out his hand and took the knife to kill his son. But the angel of the Lord called to him from heaven and said, “Abraham, Abraham!” And he said, “Here I am.” He said, “Do not lay your hand on the boy or do anything to him, for now I know that you fear God, since you have not withheld your son, your only son, from me.” And Abraham looked up and saw a ram, caught in a thicket by its horns. Abraham went and took the ram and offered it up as a burnt offering instead of his son. So Abraham called that place “The Lord will provide,” as it is said to this day, “On the mount of the Lord it shall be provided.”

Genesis 22:1-14 (NRSVue)

My sermon from the 4th Sunday after Pentecost Sunday (July 2, 2023) on Genesis 22:1-14.


So what do we do about a story that, in the words of the Mark Smith, professor of Old Testament at Princeton Theological Seminary, “has no parallels in the Bible or ancient Near Eastern literature?” Christians have, since the first few decades after Jesus’ death and resurrection, seen the story of the attempted sacrifice of Issac as one foreshadowing Jesus on the cross. There are details within this story that seem to match – such as Issac being the one who carried the wood he would be bound too. Yet this story still leaves us with questions since God, who already promised that Abraham’s descendants would outnumber all the stars in the sky, suddenly out of nowhere asked Abraham to end that promise. We’re told that this whole ordeal is meant to be a test but what that test is trying to measure is a bit fuzzy. Even Abraham, Issac, his family, and their entire household are left in the dark, not knowing that they’re undergoing a test in the first place. Our reading begins with God calling Abraham by name and then quickly moves to God uttering a word we wouldn’t expect. This is a story where God’s intentions aren’t very easy to see. 

Yet I wonder if the opening words between God and Abraham might help us unpack everything else that followed. These words, at first, feel rather one-sided since God does most of the talking. But we can safely imagine that Abraham wouldn’t have been so quiet since he had a regular habit of arguing with God. At worst, Abraham would have kept every response to God safely in his head and I think that that command that punctuated God’s speech provides that space where we get to imagine what Abraham might have said. God began his words with the command “take your son” which Abraham would have made Abraham wonder – which one? By this point in the story, Abraham had two sons – one through Sarah and the other through Hagar, Abraham’s slave. That son was born when Sarah and Abraham tried to make God’s promise come true on their own. God, though, answered Abraham’s question by pointing to Issac but surrounded that name with “an only.” Abraham knew, however, that such a word didn’t fully apply to him but did to the women who never made an overt appearance in the story. Abraham, I believe, loved all his kids – which might be why God didn’t say that Issac was the only one he loved. By this point in the speech, I imagine Abraham was a bit confused – not quite sure what God was doing. The comments God shared didn’t fully describe Abraham’s story as he, himself, knew it to be. God seemed to be shifting Abraham’s story in a slightly different way that left Abraham filled with questions. Abraham probably wondered where God was going with all of this – which shows how faith doesn’t require us to turn off our brain or leave our emotions behind. Instead, God seemed to be engaging with Abraham’s default story – his own self-vision of who he was supposed to be. 

And it’s at that point in the story where everything gets weird. God then told Abraham to take Issac to a new place to be offered up as a sacrifice. Now the idea behind the sacrifice – the intentional killing of a living thing as a way to connect with the divine – is something that’s all over our Bible. But our Bible doesn’t take a few verses to describe why this kind of sacrifice existed in the first place. Instead, it’s just there – a part of our human story that assumes reaching out to the divine requires a life to be involved. Usually the sacrifice used grain or grapes, cattle or sheep, or other kinds of domesticated plants and animals. But there were moments when, during a war or after a natural disaster or while living through a famine or plague that humans were killed. When the world was on the line, a person’s life was used as a way to convince a god or gods or whatever to intervene. Abraham knew that his current situation wasn’t close to being that dire but that concept of sacrifice was simply assumed as part of what it means to interact with God. He, I think, couldn’t even imagine that a relationship with the divine wouldn’t include some kind of sacrifice. A sacrifice was how you convinced the so-called gods to act on the behalf of you, your family, and your nation. Living with the divine meant the world was kind of wrapped up in a pay-per-play attitude where your faithfulness, your love, your devotion, was reflected in and through the living things burnt up to the divine. Abraham, though, doesn’t explicitly hear from God about what this so-called test that he didn’t even know he was taking – would give him. Yet that pay-per-play idea was assumed to be part of every communication one had with the divine. God commanded Abraham to end the promise Issac’s life fulfilled – and every bit of his wonder and doubt and questions were impacted by this sacrificial vision of what it means to be in a relationship with God. 

And so I wonder if this test wasn’t about how close Abraham came to slaughtering his own son but rather was God showing how far these default stories take us into death and how we need God to give us a new vision of what it means to live in the world. Asking, or forcing, others to make all kinds of sacrifices for our own personal benefit – is a story that is still with us. We often require others, especially the most vulnerable among us, to sacrifice their own opportunities for life, love, health, and success so that the story we tell of our own value and importance won’t come crumbling down. We, without always realizing it, live as if God’s creation really is a pay-to-play reality where everything, including love and grace, is a limited commodity that only certain people are allowed to have. God sent Abraham on a journey that revealed to him and Issac just how far the default stories we carry might take us. God was not interested in letting these kinds of stories continue because a sacrifice shouldn’t be about asking others to lose their own life so that we can continue embracing the status quo. Rather, the kind of sacrifice God had in mine was centered on what we can do to help those around us – thrive. 

God gave Abraham and his descendants a new story rooted in the promise of life, opportunity, and hope. Our interaction with the divine and the wider world would no longer be centered on death but rooted in the life God had already brought about. The life of faith is not meant to make us into some kind of holy robot that does whatever it’s told. Rather, our new story helps us undo the default story that believes that scarcity and fear are central to what God is about. And so, after rewriting Abraham’s story, God eventually re-wrote every story by living a human life and ending the power of death. Instead of asking or forcing others to be sacrificed so that we can remain who we are, God intervenes to show us the life-giving people we can be. This, though, requires us to reflect, deeply and honestly, about what our default story truly is. We need to ask what sacrifices we ask others to make so that we don’t have to make any sacrifices of our own. We have to push through our own comfort zone and into a reality where mercy, hope, and forgiveness abound. And we do this not because it’s easy or because we think this will get God to do what we want God to do. But rather, this is simply the way we get to be because God has already acted. Jesus died on the Cross so that we would no longer ask others to die on it too. Instead, we get to embrace a new vision – a holy vision – a Godly vision – that notices just how abundant God’s love, grace, and forgiveness can truly be. 

Amen. 

Sermon: We Can Resemble More Than Our Pets

“A disciple is not above the teacher nor a slave above the master; it is enough for the disciple to be like the teacher and the slave like the master. If they have called the master of the house Beelzebul, how much more will they malign those of his household!

“So have no fear of them, for nothing is covered up that will not be uncovered and nothing secret that will not become known. What I say to you in the dark, tell in the light, and what you hear whispered, proclaim from the housetops. Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; rather, fear the one who can destroy both soul and body in hell.[a] Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. And even the hairs of your head are all counted. So do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows.

“Everyone, therefore, who acknowledges me before others, I also will acknowledge before my Father in heaven, but whoever denies me before others, I also will deny before my Father in heaven.

“Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace but a sword.
For I have come to set a man against his father,
and a daughter against her mother,
and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law,
and one’s foes will be members of one’s own household.
“Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me, and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me, and whoever does not take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Those who find their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.

Matthew 10:24-39 (NRSVue)

My sermon from the 4th Sunday after Pentecost Sunday (June 25, 2023) on Matthew 10:24-39.


20 years ago or so, a team of psychologists and researchers from the University of California – San Diego photographed 45 dogs and their owners. Every person and their dog were photographed separately and then together and then, to mix things up, each person was photographed with a dog they met for the very first time. Once these pictures were taken, another group of people tried to look at the pictures and figure out which dog went with which person. As someone who personally spends way too much time laughing at pet videos on the internet, this project is right up my alley. And I wouldn’t be surprised if the people around us have noticed how we and the fuzzy or not-so-fuzzy friends in our life simply go together. The folks from UC – San Diego were trying to discover if there’s something behind the phenomena of pets who look like their humans. So after carefully examining every photograph, folks picked which person went with which dog. Once that data was collected, it was analyzed and the team noticed that mutts – dogs who are made up of more than one breed – were difficult to match with their own. But those who looked at these pet photos had no problem matching purebred dogs with their people. These results suggested that when people pick a dog, some seek out those animals who resemble who they already are. And I wonder if, based on our reading today from the gospel according to Matthew, if Jesus chose us because he trusted we could resemble him too. 

Now I don’t want to stretch this analogy too far, implying that we, somehow, are Jesus’ pets. Yet this reading does help unpack what it means to follow him. It’s a continuation of what we listened to last week. Jesus, after being the primary teacher, healer, and manifestation of the kingdom of God come near, decided it was time to give that mission to others. He gathered together a group of imperfect people to cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, and cast out demons. In other words, these tax collectors, fishermen, young adults, the faithful, the doubters, the betrayers, and those who would leave him hanging on the Cross – they were called to be like Jesus. These disciples would be sent out to form honest, authentic, and life-giving relationships with new people while relying on the hospitality of strangers. Rather than letting their own assumptions limit what love would do, these apostles would let other people reveal the compassion, mercy, and peace they needed. That kind of work isn’t easy to do since it asks followers of Jesus to be vulnerable. It requires them to admit the hard truth that maybe they haven’t been who they’re supposed to be. Making people whole while pointing to the One who brought God’s presence near will always upend the status quo. Now last week’s reading seemed to focus on the practical aspects of what that upending might look like. But today’s words feel way more intense because when we live like Jesus, we sometimes experience all the joy and all the sorrow he experienced too. 

Now I’m sure there are parts of Jesus’ life we wouldn’t mind living out. The power, with a few words or a gentle touch, to physically heal those around us is something I wish I had.  It would be awesome to not only have that power but also Jesus’ ability to deeply listen to his friends, family, and even strangers. Some of us might even get a kick traveling the countryside with a dozen close friends with most of our basic needs already taken care of. Making God’s love visible among those who are often denied that life and love in the first place, would bring so much purpose to our lives. But when the kingdom of God comes near, everything else responds. Conflict comes. And while many try to use such conflict to justify their own love of self, power, and control, it’s important to pay attention to Jesus’ own description of what that conflict looks like. Those who follow him will not find themselves in some kind of culture war that values a limited vision of family, tradition, and the past. Jesus described something deeper that upends the very foundations of who we are. He points to a kind of generational conflict, believing that the young – especially young adults – would grasp what his good news is all about while their parents and in-laws remained rooted in what they always knew. The presence of Jesus pushes people away from what they imagined themselves to be and into God’s vision of who they’re meant to be. It’s why he described his own ministry in an un-Jesus like way, pointing to the power of the sword as a symbol for how God’s love changes the world. Not only will the presence of the apostles change other people’s lives, Jesus reminds them that their own lives will be changed too. When we trust that God’s promises are real and that God’s love actually matters and that Jesus is who he says he is – nothing remains the same. The kingdom of God upends all the kingdoms that make us who we are so that we can be redefined by whose we are instead. 

We often expect that being made whole implies our lives are simply a puzzle that’s missing only a couple of pieces. We assume we’ve already prepared the outline of who we’re supposed to be. It’s a bit harder, I think, to wonder if the carefully constructed outline of ourselves might actually be the thing that will come crashing down. Jesus, through his own life and ministry, knew what it was like when God’s kingdom comes near. Yet he refused to let the intensity of this ongoing conflict not be matched by a promise that will never end. Even when God’s peace feels so far away, every hair on your head has been counted and your life is held in God’s hands. And it’s because God loved us first that we’re able to live as if faith actually matters. The call into this way of life isn’t easy because we need the wholeness Jesus brings too. Before we are perfect, Jesus calls us to love. We are to bring healing to others while needing that healing ourselves. We are to work for peace even when anything but peace makes up the bulk of our lives. We are to offer comfort while being uncomfortable and refuse to let the status quo become a stand-in for the kingdom of God. We are to be like Jesus because Jesus has claimed us as his own. If someone managed to snap a picture of Jesus and then a picture of us, they should see the body of Christ we are already a part of. Our faith would be seen in a life that, while imperfected and wounded, can’t help proclaim that God’s future is on its way. The call to embody this way of life is costly since it invites us to make something other than ourselves, our relationships, and our families, the center of who we are. But when we let God be God and we let ourselves be the body of Christ we already are, that’s when people discover how – in us and through us – God’s love can be found.

Amen.

Sermon: A Different Kind of Superhero Team

Then Jesus went about all the cities and villages, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing every disease and every sickness. When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. Then he said to his disciples, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.”

Then Jesus summoned his twelve disciples and gave them authority over unclean spirits, to cast them out, and to cure every disease and every sickness. These are the names of the twelve apostles: first, Simon, also known as Peter, and his brother Andrew; James son of Zebedee and his brother John; Philip and Bartholomew; Thomas and Matthew the tax collector; James son of Alphaeus and Thaddaeus; Simon the Cananaean and Judas Iscariot, the one who betrayed him.

These twelve Jesus sent out with the following instructions: “Do not take a road leading to gentiles, and do not enter a Samaritan town, but go rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. As you go, proclaim the good news, ‘The kingdom of heaven has come near.’ Cure the sick; raise the dead; cleanse those with a skin disease; cast out demons. You received without payment; give without payment.

Matthew 9:35—10:23 (NRSVue)

My sermon from the 3rd Sunday after Pentecost Sunday (June 18, 2023) on Matthew 9:35—10:23.


If you were putting together a group of people to make God’s love real on earth, who would be on that team? If it’s helpful, imagine we’re God’s version of the Marvel comicbook hero Nick Fury and we’ve been tasked with putting together a divine version of the Avengers. I, personally, wouldn’t call this new group the Avengers since God’s work is a lot bigger than simply avenging. But if we were putting together a holy team of real human beings, I wonder who we’d pick to be a part of it. I imagine we’d want folks who have a real connection with the God who is capable of casting out the demons that tear us apart. Yet they’d also know what it’s like to be in the presence of the God who bursts into tears when they do. They would be the faithful few who have graduated from the doubt and faithlessness we feel by truly believing God is here. 

In today’s reading from the gospel according to Matthew, we discovered what Jesus did after he finally assembled his version of a super-team we know as the Apostles. Jesus was, for quite awhile, the primary teacher, healer, and manifestation of the kingdom of God coming near. And after looking around and noticing the need that was all around him, Jesus officially invited others into this same kind of work too. The group he pulled together was to show what His community was going to be about. Yet when we closely examine the people who Jesus called to follow him, I’m not sure if we would have done the same thing. Jesus, who literally had a star hover over the place where he was born, brought people together who were not the stars of their own lives. He invited fishermen, tax collectors, the faithful, the doubters, and even the one who would betray him to become the people who would bring healing and wholeness to others. That honestly feels a bit too much since they, like us, are often the ones who need that healing too. Those who follow Jesus and who live in this world often need a refuge from it – a place or an experience where, for a moment, our pain and suffering is no more. We long to know we are loved, valued, and living a life that actually matters. And so that’s why we, and these apostles I think, come to Jesus – to grab hold of God’s grace so that we, in some way, might graduate from this basic life into something more. We want to be on our way into something new. And yet before the heavenly diploma comes, Jesus sends those who follow him out –  to show others what the kingdom of God is all about. 

That, I think, is one of the things that makes the life of a disciple hard. Within this identity we all share, we’re each given a lot of responsibilities. On one level, we’re called to return to Jesus over and over again. When we feel as if we’re not worthy of God’s love or when we feel as if we’re already good enough, that’s a sign we need to pause and sit at Jesus’ feet. We, by integrating Jesus’ story into our own story through the intentional practice of prayer, worship, Bible reading, service, and spending time with all of God’s people – we lean into the part of discipleship that makes us into students of God’s love. This is a type of education that does not end because it helps us become aware of what Jesus is leading us to. We are asked, as students, to also lean into the part of discipleship that’s all about following Jesus. Because when we follow Jesus, we end up in the places where God’s work of love, reconciliation, hope, and mercy can be found. A disciple seeks refuge in Jesus; is taught by Jesus; and goes wherever Jesus goes. And yet members of this super-team have one additional responsibility too. Jesus sends them out so that others can discover for themselves what it’s like for the kingdom of God to come near. 

Now the word “Apostles” is more than a title for the super team Jesus put together. The word really means: “one who is sent off.” An apostle is an emissary, a messenger, and an ambassador – and this term was used in our Bible for other people beyond who were named in our reading today. When we follow Jesus, we are sent out by Jesus to be like Jesus wherever God calls us to be. That language of sending and being sent might bring to our own minds a superteam full of missionaries, pastors, chaplains, nurses, doctors, non-profit workers, and all those who excite our spiritual imagination by giving hope to those who are often left behind. Yet that image in our head usually doesn’t include us since we think that work is supposed to be done by someone else. Matthew, though, didn’t believe that these words from Jesus’ words were only meant for the twelve. He included this entire scene so that those we’d never pick for our faithful super-team heard these words too. The original twelve Apostles was a group full of folks who challenged Jesus, questioned Jesus, talked back to Jesus, and fled from Jesus at the time of his greatest need. And they were the ones Jesus sent out to build new relationships with people they didn’t fully know. Their task was to do the hard work of making wholeness a reality for others by not assuming they already knew the pain and suffering they were going through. By relying on the hospitality of others, they were immediately brought inside so they could listen and witness the lives people actually lived. Those who were sent by Jesus could then participate in God’s work of breaking through what keeps all of us separated from a life full of hope and love. It’s a way of being in the world that keeps us connected to God and each other by admitting how vulnerable we all are. And it’s through this work we create places filled with a divine peace that extends beyond simply the comfort level of a select few. Being a disciple isn’t easy because being vulnerable, asking for help, and admitting the ways we do not love like God loves is a truth we aren’t always ready to bear. Yet this work – of being one of the ways God’s kingdom comes near in the lives of others – isn’t work we do alone because we can’t be sent to something unless we were already part of something first. 

And what we’re part of is Jesus himself. Through the gift of faith and the power of baptism, you are already part of this body of Christ. The team Jesus put together to make God’s love real in the lives of others includes more than just other people; it includes you too. You, as you are, are necessary for what God is up to in the world. Now there are times when this feels right – especially when our life is moving forward and we’re graduating from one thing to pursue another. But as our situations change, as our lives ebb and flow, and during those times when our moving forward feels like we’re, instead, going backwards – we can’t possibly imagine Jesus’ team truly includes us. Yet Jesus, as we see in today’s story, has a habit of not letting individuals get in the way of where God wants them to be. Jesus calls those who make mistakes, those who have doubts, and those are fuzzy in their faith – to be the ones who cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, and cast out demons. It’s Jesus who sends those who struggle to see the image of God in their neighbors to be the ones who share how God’s love is real. It’s Jesus who, over and over again, calls imperfect people to reflect His perfect love into the world. It seems pretty improbable that among the faithful people we look up to, Jesus would make us part of that team too. But you were made for this kind of Holy work because the love of God in you is meant for God’s world too. 

Amen.

Sermon: A Full and Different Future

As Jesus was walking along, he saw a man called Matthew sitting at the tax-collection station, and he said to him, “Follow me.” And he got up and followed him.

And as he sat at dinner[a] in the house, many tax collectors and sinners came and were sitting[b] with Jesus and his disciples. When the Pharisees saw this, they said to his disciples, “Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?” But when he heard this, he said, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. Go and learn what this means, ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’ For I have not come to call the righteous but sinners.”

While he was saying these things to them, suddenly a leader came in and knelt before him, saying, “My daughter has just died, but come and lay your hand on her, and she will live.” And Jesus got up and followed him, with his disciples. Then suddenly a woman who had been suffering from a flow of blood for twelve years came up behind him and touched the fringe of his cloak, for she was saying to herself, “If I only touch his cloak, I will be made well.” Jesus turned, and seeing her he said, “Take heart, daughter; your faith has made you well.” And the woman was made well from that moment. When Jesus came to the leader’s house and saw the flute players and the crowd making a commotion, he said, “Go away, for the girl is not dead but sleeping.” And they laughed at him. But when the crowd had been put outside, he went in and took her by the hand, and the girl got up. And the report of this spread through all of that district.

Matthew 9:9-13, 18-26 (NRSVue)

My sermon from the 2nd Sunday after Pentecost (June 11, 2023) on Matthew 9:9-13, 18-26.


If the space-time continuum broke at 3 pm and you had an extra three hours to do whatever you wanted until it was fixed, what would you do? That isn’t a lot of time but it’s enough to let us make a choice. We could, depending on how the rest of this morning goes, choose to take a guilt free nap but there could also be several movies or tv shows we’ve been meaning to binge. We might finally go on that hike we’ve been planning to take once the weather turned nice. Or we could pick-up one of the eighty or so books in our current “to-read” pile. A few free hours would be perfect for some guilt-free “me time” or, better yet, to crush my kids in several rounds of the board game Sorry. Yet you also might be a bit like me and get excited about how productive those three free hours could be. I, for example, could finish putting mulch around my yard or clean out the garage or and answer those dozens of emails currently haunting my dreams. It would be so easy to knock a few things off our never ending to-do list since that extra time would enable us to make a choice outside the busyness of everyday life. 

Now today’s reading from the gospel according to Matthew isn’t very long but it is full. It begins with a call story and moves into a healing and a resurrection that I wish all of us experienced way more often. Matthew, while busy living his life, was met by a Jesus who simply said “follow me.” This story feels pretty similar to the other call stories in this gospel. Way back in chapter four, Jesus met Peter, Andrew, James, and John while they were busy fishing along the sea of Galilee. After sharing only a few words, all four left their nets and boats to follow the One who had just begun to proclaim that the kingdom of God was near. It’s in that same general area where Jesus finds Matthew sitting in a tax booth. Matthew’s job, most likely, was to collect taxes based on how many fish people caught. Much of the fishing done in the ancient world along the Sea of Galilee took place at night and so when dawn broke, a long line of people would have been waiting for Matthew to go through what they caught. They hoped Matthew would go through the line quickly so that their fresh fish could make it to the market on time. By the time Jesus noticed the tax booth, Matthew was already sitting down. It’s possible he was doing that because the busy part of his day was already over. But there’s also a chance he was sitting down because he could. Tax collecting in the ancient world was a little complicated since governments, even as powerful as the Roman Empire, didn’t have the people or the infrastructure to physically collect all the taxes they needed. That kind of work was contracted out to individuals, businesses, and organizations that were basically street gangs. These groups were empowered by the Roman Empire to collect more than what the Empire asked for as payment for their services. And they were allowed to use violence, intimidation, and force to get what the ruling authorities wanted. Tax collectors, then, weren’t the most beloved members of their community since it looked like they chose a way of being in the world that was beyond redemption. Yet not every person collecting taxes could choose the life they lived. Some, through poor choices, bad luck, and awful circumstances, ended up doing that work just to make ends meet. Others, though, had no say in the matter since they were enslaved. No one liked tax collectors yet the story of every individual who collected taxes was complicated and complex. We have no idea why Matthew became a tax collector and the choices that led to him sitting in that booth on that day. But we do know that while living through the busyness of his complicated and imperfect life, Jesus showed up. 

Now I’m not sure what Matthew would do if he, on the day he met Jesus, had a few extra hours in the afternoon. Maybe, in a burst of productivity, he’d make sure everyone in line got their catch to the market on time. Maybe those few free hours would let him feel free in a way he never could be. Or maybe he’d have chosen to simply sit and wait – using the little bits of power he had to feel more important than those around him. I don’t know what Matthew would have chosen if he was given some extra time but I notice how everything changed once Jesus chose him. The text doesn’t tell us why Jesus called Matthew to be his disciple. We get no story that might prove, to us, the validity in the choice Jesus made. The two stories that follow – of a woman and religious leader who in the midst of their pain, grief, and sorrow, come to Jesus seems to be a little bit of what the life of discipleship is supposed to be about. And when Jesus talked to Matthew, Matthew didn’t do what we’d expect him to do: he made no declaration of faith; didn’t fall at Jesus’ feet; nor did he even ask Jesus a few questions of what following him might mean. Instead, in the middle of Matthew’s complicated and busy life, Jesus said “follow me.” And that’s exactly what Matthew did. 

Rev. Cleophus J. LaRue, in a commentary on this passage, recently wrote: “God never calls us to something, without first calling us away from something…You can never get to the next thing that God has for you until, in an act of simple obedience, you let go of where you are and follow after him…. [this call] is action-oriented, for it requires us to live now as if the rule and reign of God had come upon us in its fullness. It requires us to live now as if the lion and the lamb were already lying down together. To live now as if adversaries had already beat[en] their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks. To live now as if justice had already begun to roll down like waters and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.” Matthew, while busy living his life, needed Jesus to choose him first before he could get a glimpse of what his life might be. This choice wasn’t rooted in the worthiness of Matthew’s past but in the love God already had for him. And like Matthew, you in your baptism, in your faith, and in who you are right now – you are chosen too. You’ve been called into a way of life that trusts the kingdom God is near. It’s a way of being in the world that comes to Jesus when we have nothing left and brings us into places where sorrow and death have made their presence known. It’s a point of view that doesn’t lean into a purity test that lets us decide who Jesus called to follow him. And it’s a life that knows how difficult it is to see what Jesus did 2000 years ago and wonder why our own lives haven’t been touched in the same way. You have been chosen for a life that isn’t easy but one that trusts that there is always more: because Jesus comes to you not in the place where you want to be but chooses to lead you into God’s hope, wholeness, and love. 

Amen.

Sermon: Entering Everything By Hand

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.


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.

Sermon: Paul and the Greek

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.


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. 

Sermon: More than Baked Cookies

“Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also.

And you know the way to the place where I am going.” Thomas said to him, “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?” Jesus said to him, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. If you know me, you will know my Father also. From now on you do know him and have seen him.” Philip said to him, “Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied.” Jesus said to him, “Have I been with you all this time, Philip, and you still do not know me? Whoever has seen me has seen the Father. How can you say, ‘Show us the Father’? Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me? The words that I say to you I do not speak on my own; but the Father who dwells in me does his works. Believe me that I am in the Father and the Father is in me; but if you do not, then believe me because of the works themselves.

Very truly, I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these, because I am going to the Father. I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Father may be glorified in the Son. If in my name you ask me for anything, I will do it.

John 14:1-14

My sermon from 5th Sunday of Easter (May 13, 2023) on John 14:1-14.

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So I’ve heard that when you’re trying to sell your home, make sure to preheat the oven a few minutes before the open house kicks off and then put some store-bought cookie dough inside. The hope is that once the air is filled with all that sugary goodness, potential buyers will think they’re home. This marketing gimmick has been around for so long that it even shows up in all kinds of unexpected places. About ten days ago, I dropped off my oldest kid at school and then drove to Philadelphia. I pulled into a large parking lot surrounding a big box-like building with the words “life celebration” in giant white letters along each side. When I got out of my car, I ran into my brother and sister-in-law who helped remove all the stray white cat hairs that were all over my suit. We, together, then walked into the building and were directed by two highly enthusiastic people to head towards our right. As I walked, I could hear the sounds of many different voices chatting ahead of me. Our plan was to find the large community space filled with our family members but we first ran into a large self-serve coffee bar in front of it. Along one wall were coffee pots filled to the brim with caffeinated goodness while on the island in the middle of the room was a tower of freshly baked cookies. The smell of baked chocolate chips, butter, and m&ms was simply everywhere as I turned the corner to give my great aunt a big hug as we commiserated over the death of my great uncle. Those two were, for all intents and purposes, my grandparents since my grandfather passed away when I was in high school. Every summer, for a week or two, I would stay at their home during our visits to the town my mother grew up in. Once I got older and started a family of my own, my kids got to spend hours doing what I had done fifteen years before: pretending to play pool while listening to a jukebox filled with 45s of Frank Sinatra in my great uncle’s finished basement. In my inner suit pocket, I had a print out of the sermon I planned to share since my great aunt asked if I would like to participate in the service. After we chatted, a Roman Catholic priest invited everyone to take a seat. And as we prepared to say goodbye to my great uncle, the smell of cookies – and the thoughts of home – filled the air. 

Now I never did get the chance to deliver that sermon but the reading I had picked was the first six verses we just heard from the gospel according to John. They are the words we often turn to when we are wrapped up in grief since the disciples, 2000 years ago, were wrapped up in their own kind of grief too. For three years, the disciples had been with Jesus as he traveled through Israel, Palestine, Syria, and beyond. Jesus was always on the move which meant every person in his ragtag group of friends had to leave the places they grew up in. They left home to create a new home rooted in the One who was always there. Jesus, right before today’s reading, brought the disciples, once again, into the city of Jerusalem to celebrate the Passover. They gathered in someone else’s home to do what we often do when we’re home: eat, talk, and be merry. We don’t know everything shared around the table that evening but I like to imagine these friends were exactly that. They talked about what they had seen and heard; named their fears and worries; admitted what gave them hope; and rolled their eyes at every single one of Peter’s lame jokes. They were at home with their Jesus during one of the holiest moments of the year. Yet Jesus, unlike them, knew just how hard things were about to become. Judas left to tell the police where they were going to be and it was now time for Jesus to help his friends get through what came next. 

So Jesus, in the middle of their meal and without saying a word, stood up, wrapped a towel around his waist and washed every one of the disciples’ feet. He didn’t let his power or his privilege get in the way of showing everyone what love is supposed to look like. Now before the shock of that moment wore off, Jesus then launched into a long conversation that shocked the disciples even more. He seemed to be hinting at a kind of separation that, at first glance, felt as if it would leave all his friends behind. Thomas, Philip, and the rest of the disciples listened to the center-of-their-life-together say he would no longer be with them like he had always been. A deep grief, worry, and anxiety seeped into their hearts as they asked for an assurance that their life with Jesus had been wasted. They were afraid and so Jesus was very careful in each one of his responses. The words he used were not meant to be used as some kind of religious test which determined who, and who isn’t, part of God’s family. Jesus didn’t scold them, yell at them, or act as if they weren’t enough. He, instead, told them that he knew them – and because of that, they would always have a home with him. No matter what came next, Jesus had already created a pace where they belonged. They could, safely and freely, admit their joys and fears; their doubts and questions; and be honest about all those times when it felt as if God didn’t even know they existed. They could simply be themselves because, through baptism and faith, they were already home. 

Our home with Jesus isn’t something we create; rather, it’s a gift we are given by the One who makes us his own. Much of this kind of home making is seen in the life Jesus chose to live, full of moments when even the Son of God relied on others to take him into their homes. Jesus needed his adopted father, mother, siblings, and friends to show how he belonged too. This home-building is something Jesus takes seriously since he comes to each of us in the prayers, music, words, and holy communion that shape our worship. And he encourages each of us to be in this kind of home-building too. My great uncle, in his own way, tried to live this out by showing how I, no matter where I was, had a place in his home too. In his finished basement, the walls are covered with the posters and headshots of all the pop culture icons, movie stars, and athletes that inspired him. Pictures of the 1980 Philadelphia Phillies, Audrey Hepbun, Humphrey Bogart, and various Eagle gear fill the space. Yet mixed in among the celebrities were also photos of every family member who had ever played a sport or even acted. Every one of his grandchild, nephews, or nieces – weather related to him biologically or who he informally adopted when he married my great aunt while in his early 50s – anyone who played soccer in kindergarten, field hockey in college, or were on the fourth line of his JV high school lacrosse team – their photo was hung right next to the Frank Sinatras of the world. It was his way of showing how we, no matter where we were or how God brought us together, always had a home. And Jesus has, through his life, death, resurrection, and ascension, has declared the very same to you. You are already home and we, in Christ, through Christ, and with Christ, get to show others what the love of God can do since God has made a home in our world. 

Amen.

Sermon: Waiting is Hard – and Faithful

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.

Sermon: Jesus and the Podiatrist

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.