Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost

Luke 14:1, 7-14

I can’t hear Jesus’ words in our gospel this morning and not think of Emily Post. Emily Post became famous in the early twentieth century for her writing about etiquette – manners and behaviors based on consideration, respect and honesty, and her standards were widely accepted and taught. I still remember the etiquette dinner my business college hosted for the seniors so we could learn how to engage in a professional setting, and, among other things, not order spaghetti and meatballs - with the potential hazards of splattered tomato sauce, slurped noodles and flying meatballs.

But Emily Post wasn’t Jesus.

And Jesus wasn’t giving etiquette lessons.

In our gospel today, when Jesus joins the pharisee and his dinner guests at the table, first he watches them and sees them make completely predictable choices that are in keeping with the norms of their society and culture in the first century of the Greco-Roman world. A society based on rank and position and status. A culture based on hierarchy and patronage.

Then Jesus tells them a parable that challenges them to make different choices next time.

Because Jesus envisions a kingdom that erases human divisions and appreciates differing gifts and abilities and creates a place of belonging for all.

Jesus shows the pharisee and his guests that the system they are operating within is exclusive and unfair:

Guests jockey for the best seat because their proximity to the host implies something positive about their status.

And hosts invite guests who can reciprocate or repay them with a similar gesture.

The system defines a person’s value solely based on what they can give or do for another person.

For those who have resources, the system works well. But if someone is a child or a woman or is differently abled – in the language from Luke “poor, crippled, lame or blind” – then they wouldn’t be invited to the table.

And that’s a big problem. For Jesus. And for us.

For decades, especially in the last century, Lutheran churches grew because generations of Lutheran families gave birth to more generations of Lutherans. Today, procreation is not a reliable church growth strategy. Similarly, in the mid-twentieth century, Lutheran churches grew because in part because the Church was at the center of white American culture and society. Today, it just isn’t. Another reality is that for a very long time, churches have been structured on the idea that we are first a community of believers, and that a person who believes what “Christians” believe and behaves the way “Christians” behave is welcome and “belongs”.

But what happens when we meet a person who didn’t grow up going to church on Sundays and Wednesdays and isn’t sure what Lutherans believe?

or someone who isn’t married or doesn’t have children but wants to belong in a community?

or a young parent who loves worship, but they’re shushed when the baby babbles through the choir’s anthem?

Jesus’ vision is a prophetic vision of a beloved community that levels the uneven ground and smooths out the rough places (Isaiah 40:4) so that all are welcome.

“All are welcome” is a big tent statement. I mean, it says that you are welcome regardless of …you name it:

your political beliefs;

your language or country of origin;

what clothes you are wearing;

your education level;

your housing status….and on and on.

It’s a long list. And I think Jesus means it.

He wants us to welcome all,

even the people who are different from me and from you.

You may remember that I didn’t grow up Lutheran. I remember two particular times when the Lutheran congregations where we worshiped welcomed my family especially well. The first was in the congregation where our children were baptized and where we became ELCA Lutherans. In that congregation, I would sit in the last pew. I’d bring my knitting and my coffee and participate in worship as best as a tired young mother could. And then in another state and another congregation, the pastor invited our elementary-age daughter to serve as the acolyte, and no one said anything when our youngest danced in the side aisle during the hymns. In both of those congregations, we found a place where we belonged and learned what it means to be Lutheran later.

Jesus’ vision for the Kingdom offers us opportunities to see ourselves and others through the lenses of compassion, equality and abundance, instead of productivity, rank and scarcity. We are more than what we can offer someone else, and we don’t need to be anxious about whether we belong at the table, or whether someone else is going to take our seat or get an even better one.

Here at Grace, one of our goals for the new strategic plan is focused on supporting members and visitors in the Grace community, helping people know God’s love for them, and creating a supportive environment for all ages and backgrounds.

Even before the strategic plan was adopted last spring, we recognized that some folks have a hard time sitting for an extended amount of time, and others, like me, listen better when my hands are busy. So now we have a basket of fidget toys near the doors to the sanctuary. And anyone, child or adult, is welcome to use the noiseless toys and return them after worship.

Another conversation we’ve been having is how we can organize programming and activities that accommodate working adults and families, so that’s part of why we have reimagined Oasis this fall. We hope a later start time will make it more feasible for folks to come over to church or hop online on Wednesday nights at 6:30, take a deep breath and worship in community here at Grace.

As some of you noticed, we are also asking how we can have people with different gifts and backgrounds involved as congregation leaders here at Grace. We have a lot of older, white and retired members, and we are grateful for the many gifts you share, AND we want to listen well to others whose experiences and gifts are different from yours.

Some may lament that the table isn’t big enough to include everyone, but the answer isn’t to turn them away.

The answer is to build a longer table, not only seeing and accepting the beautiful array of gifts God gives us in each other,

but appreciates how our differences are a blessing.

This is the Lord’s table after all, and all are welcome.

Amen.

Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost

Luke 13:10-17

Whenever we get a story of a woman in Scripture, I get curious. There just aren’t that many. We know that women in the first century and certainly in the centuries before that were not powerful. Their stories don’t often get told. Even more rarely are their names shared. A woman’s value was defined by her childbearing ability or by the wealth of her husband, and while she may have been cherished as a treasured possession, she was not generally seen as a whole and beloved person in her own right.

It has taken millennia to improve the situation of women in society, and sadly, there are still places and circumstances where women find themselves dismissed, ignored or even erased.

So, whenever we get a story of a woman in Scripture, I get curious.

This week Luke tells us the story of a woman who appeared while Jesus was teaching. We never learn her name, but we know that she was crippled by a spirit and she had not been able to stand up straight for eighteen years.  And yet, she shows up at the synagogue.

And as little as we know about this woman, we know that when Jesus sees her, he immediately heals her. There are no questions or qualifying events; there are no bargains struck or hoops to jump through.

There is healing, and it is unconditional mercy, a free gift.

Luke tells us that the woman begins praising God and the crowd around Jesus rejoices at all he is doing.

But apparently, everyone isn’t joyful. Luke says the religious leader is indignant. Outraged. Annoyed. Vexed. As a colleague noted, there’s no way to make this word positive. The argument the synagogue leader makes is that Jesus has broken the sabbath, but his complaint isn’t really about the sabbath.

It’s about Jesus.

Jesus who is going to break tradition and cross boundaries in order to heal this woman. Jesus who is not going to defer justice. Jesus who is not going to wait until it is convenient to do what is right. And Jesus who is not going to worry about who he makes uncomfortable while he carries out God’s kingdom work.

When he encounters the woman, Jesus sees what no one else could; he sees how the glorious breaking in of God’s kingdom is going to bring grace, healing and freedom to someone who is hurting, 
and he resolves that he is not going to stand in its way.

It makes me wonder how do we respond when we see God’s kingdom breaking in? With praise and rejoicing? With indignation? Who are we in this Jesus story?

I want to believe that I would rejoice too. I want to believe that I would not have thought of this stranger as a disruption. I want to believe that I would have welcomed her unusual appearance and been sympathetic to her plight.

And yet, I know I might have been uncomfortable, and I might have had to swallow my impulse to insist on maintaining good order.

I might have had to remember to get out of God’s way. 

This week I have been reflecting on a prayer attributed to Julian of Norwich. 

If you aren’t familiar with her, Julian was an anchoress, or a religious recluse, who lived in the fourteenth century in England. Her writings are some of “the earliest surviving English-language works attributed to a woman.”[i] And while, ironically, Reformation leaders disparaged her and refused to publish her, today she is considered a significant Christian mystic and theologian.

Her prayer is one of the most well-known excerpts and it ends with these words:

Teach us to believe that by your grace all shall be well, and all shall be well, And all manner of things shall be well. Amen.

As a girl, Julian lived through the Black Plague, and in her thirties, she survived serious illness. Later, she lived through the Peasants’ Revolt.

Julian had plenty of reasons to fear the world and yet, she trusted that God’s grace would make all manner of things well.

I am struck by Julian’s prayer in part because it is not by her efforts or merits that all things shall be well. She credits God for that fully.  

And yet, she continues to write. She counsels visitors at Norwich. She responds to the world around with her in faith and with compassion.

Having found her place in God’s world, Julian trusted that God’s vision for the world would be more complete, more full and more whole than what she could imagine or see in the present time.

She didn’t disregard the suffering she witnessed, or diminish the loss and grief of others, but she was confident in her belief that God would reign and that the powers and principalities that were delivering death and pain would be conquered.

That God would see.

And all manner of things shall be well.

Amen.

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[i] Wikipedia, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Julian_of_Norwich, accessed 8/23/2025

Tenth Sunday after Pentecost

Luke 12:49-56

Aw, man, I really didn’t want to preach today’s gospel.

From Jesus naming his desire to bring fire to the earth (v. 49) and  predicting the ways that households would be divided by his words (v. 51-53) to his condemnation of his audience, calling them “hypocrites”, I was left wondering,

“How is this Good News?”

Seriously, I thought about preaching a different text today.

But you may remember that in a sermon last month Pastor Jonathan shared how following Jesus, living lives of discipleship and choosing to be faithful to the Gospel means sometimes choosing to do hard things.

And while I would like to only listen to Jesus when he says comforting words, I know that I need to hear his challenging words, too.

So, I went back to the text. And not only our gospel text, but also the words of Jeremiah that are paired with it today.

Because Jeremiah is speaking to God’s people and reminding them that prophets speak the Word of the Lord faithfully. They don’t only say what people want to hear. They don’t only speak words of promise and comfort. And a Word that comes through the prophet is also, always first a Word to the prophet. 

Sometimes God’s Word is not so much like a gentle whisper but like the fire sent at Pentecost, sweeping through and making room for what’s next; sometimes it is like a hammer that breaks open rugged rocks to reveal what is precious within them.

If we start with what we know about who Jesus is, then I think we can hear the Good News in our gospel today.

Jesus wants us to know we are loved and forgiven, and Jesus wants us to be reconciled, with God and with one another, and to flourish in relationship and community. And He regularly calls out the obstacles to that abundant life, naming the powers and principalities and those things that draw us away from God.

When Jesus speaks of fire and baptism, we are meant to remember the words of John the Baptizer in Luke 3 who said,

I baptize you with water; but one who is more powerful than I is coming; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand, to clear his threshing floor and to gather the wheat into his granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire. (3:16-17)

The fire that Jesus wants to kindle is not one of damnation and punishment, but one of purifying and refining power. It burns away the stuff that doesn’t matter and preserves what is needed.

This interpretation is supported later in Luke, in chapter 9, when Jesus and his disciples reach Samaria and are rejected. James and John ask Jesus if he wants them to “command fire to come down from heaven and consume [the Samaritans]” and Jesus rebuked the disciples. The basis of judgment is our conduct, but the basis for hope is always God. (The Rev. Dr. Richard Nysse, Luther Seminary) The Lord is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love. (Psalm 145:8)

But Jesus doesn’t pretend that following him will be easy. He says that, in fact, listening to Him and choosing to follow Him will make life hard. It can create difficulty and strife in relationships. We can expect that we will disagree about what it means to follow Jesus - in our households, in our congregations and the wider Church. 

This tension between following Jesus and living in the world isn’t new.

It echoes what Jesus told the men in Luke 9 who wanted to complete their household responsibilities before they followed Him: 
the Kingdom of Heaven demands our full and immediate attention and takes priority over everything else.

It’s a hard word to hear and to preach and even harder to follow.

We know that the prophetic word is one that is met with resistance. The prophet Micah answered the question, “What does the Lord require of you?” with the deceptively simple “Do justice, love kindness and walk humbly with your God.” (Micah 6:8)

Justice. Humility. Kindness.

This is the hard work of discipleship to which we are called. Throughout his Small Catechism, Luther interprets God’s commandments for us, explaining each one within the context of what it means to “fear and love God”. 

Here Jesus tells us that in our Christian lives, we are called to let go of the things that serve ourselves and our egos, to let them burn up like the chaff on the threshing floor. He warns us against self-deception and calls us to honest reflection, that we may “know God more clearly, love God more dearly, and follow God more nearly, day by day”. (Prayer of St. Richard)

There is Good News here for us today. We do not need to be afraid of the fire Jesus desires to kindle in us. It is the burning presence of the divine in our lives, that does not consume, but assures us that God is here, and it is the life-giving Holy Spirit that shines brightly in all of his disciples.

Let us pray.

Holy God,

Thank you giving us Your Son Jesus to comfort and challenge us.

Help us listen to the prophetic word and obey

That the world may know your love and mercy through our bold actions.

We pray in the name of Jesus.

Amen.

Ninth Sunday after Pentecost

I first preached this sermon in Spanish; the English translation is below.

Hebreos 11:1-3, 8-16

Oremos…

Que las palabras de mi boca y la meditaciónes de nuestro corazónes sean gratas a tu vista, oh Señor, fortaleza y redentor nuestro. Amén.

En nuestra congregación luterana, y de hecho en muchas congregaciones protestantes tradicionales, las lecturas de cada domingo forman parte de un ciclo trienal de lecturas llamado Leccionario Común Revisado. El leccionario nos ayuda a reconocer la naturaleza católica de la Iglesia: que los cristianos estamos unidos en torno a un solo Dios y una sola Palabra. También me mantiene honesta como predicador, animándome a escuchar lo que Dios dice en un texto determinado, en lugar de buscar un texto que apoye mis propias ideas.

Pero el leccionario también tiene sus limitaciones. Las lecturas no siempre cuentan la historia completa. En otras ocasiones, omite libros o pasajes enteros y, a menudo, no aborda partes más complejas de la Escritura.

Hablo de esto cuando enseño sobre los Salmos, por ejemplo, porque los salmos que escuchamos en la adoración suelen ser de alabanza y acción de gracias, pero también hay salmos de lamento donde el escritor clama con sufrimiento y salmos imprecatorios que invocan la justicia divina de Dios.

No soy la primera persona en notar las fallas del leccionario. Hace aproximadamente una década, un grupo de académicos creó un leccionario alternativo diseñado para narrar las historias de las Escrituras de forma continua. Este leccionario narrativo tiene un ciclo similar de lecturas a lo largo de varios años, pero no está tan conectado con nuestro calendario litúrgico, que celebra las diferentes estaciones y festividades. Más recientemente, otros han creado un leccionario para mujeres, que destaca textos y personajes de las Escrituras que a menudo se omiten en las lecturas tradicionales.

Un par de mujeres, que también son pastoras, tienen un podcast llamado "Mind the Gap" o “”Ojo con el vacio”. El título es un juego de palabras con las palabras que se colocan en los letreros cerca del metro de Londres, advirtiendo a los viajeros a tener cuidado al subir y bajar de los trenes. En su podcast, los dos pastores exploran los textos del leccionario, prestando especial atención a los versículos omitidos. En un día como hoy, cuando la lectura de Hebreos salta del versículo 2 al 8, ellas habrían discutido lo que se omitió o se dejó fuera.

Resulta que los versículos que faltan son el comienzo de una lista de personajes del Antiguo Testamento que se describen como modelos de fe. Y, en realidad, está bien que se hayan excluido de nuestra lectura.

Pero lo que también se pierde es un versículo que Martín Lutero citaba a menudo al enseñar sobre la importancia de la fe. El versículo seis dice:

Y sin fe, es imposible agradar a Dios, porque es necesario que quien se acerca a él crea que existe y que recompensa a quienes lo buscan.

Lutero escribió en sus Lecciones sobre Gálatas que “Donde Cristo y la fe no están presentes, no hay perdón de pecados ni encubrimiento de pecados”. (LW 26:133)

Lutero argumenta que “Un cristiano no es alguien que no tiene pecado ni siente pecado; es alguien a quien, debido a su fe en Cristo, Dios no le imputa [ni le asigna] su pecado”.

La interpretación de Lutero sobre la justificación por la fe es que la fe es un don que Dios nos da y que es a través de la fe en Cristo que recibimos el perdón de Dios. No podemos añadir nada a lo que Dios ha hecho.

Nuestra lectura de Hebreos comienza con una definición de fe que se repite con frecuencia.

En nuestra traducción, el versículo dice:

“Es pues la fe la sustancia de las cosas que se esperan, la demostración de las cosas que no se ven.”

En la Biblia en Inglés Común, la traducción es:

“La fe es la realidad de lo que esperamos, la prueba de lo que no vemos”.

Pero, aunque estas palabras caben en un cojín decorativo, no son un simple adorno sentimental. Son una declaración contundente.

La fe es donde las promesas de Dios se hacen realidad. La seguridad y la esperanza ante lo invisible residen en lo que sabemos sobre quien es Dios.

El autor de Hebreos continúa narrando las historias de nuestros antepasados espirituales para enfatizar que Dios cumple sus promesas. “La fe... existe en la palabra de la promesa que depende... de que Dios cumpla la promesa”. (Steven D. Paulson. Teología Luterana, 57)

Una y otra vez, el autor comienza con las palabras “por la fe”.

“Por la fe, Abel ofreció...”

“Por la fe, Noé respetó la advertencia de Dios”

“Por la fe, Abraham obedeció...”

Y al escuchar sus historias, se nos invita a reflexionar sobre las personas que conocemos y ver cómo ellas también han actuado “por la fe”. Y aún más, a reflexionar sobre nuestras vidas y cómo hemos actuado por fe.

Al responder a la vocación que Dios nos da a cada uno.

Al decidir dónde vivir y criar a nuestras familias.

Al elegir cómo cuidar a nuestro prójimo.

Al escuchar hacia donde nos esta llamando Dios ahora.

Recordando siempre que la fe que nos sostiene no es creación nuestra, sino un don santo y completo del Dios que nos ama y nos perdona por completo.

Gracias a Dios.

Hebrews 11:1-3, 8-16

In our Lutheran congregation, and in fact in many “mainline” Protestant congregations, our readings for each Sunday are part of a three-year cycle of readings called the Revised Common Lectionary. The lectionary helps us recognize the catholic nature of the Church – that we Christians are united around one God and one Word. It also keeps me honest as a preacher, encouraging me to listen for what God is saying in a given text, instead of finding a text to support my own ideas.

But the lectionary has its shortcomings, too. The readings don’t always tell the whole story. Other times, it leaves out whole books or passages and often, it doesn’t tackle more complex parts of Scripture. I talk about this when I teach about the Psalms, for example, because the psalms we hear in worship are often praise and thanksgiving but there are also psalms of lament where the writer cries out in suffering and imprecatory psalms that call for God’s divine justice.

I’m not the first person to notice the lectionary’s faults. About a decade ago, a group of scholars created an alternative lectionary that is designed to tell the stories of Scripture continuously. That narrative lectionary has a similar cycle of readings over several years, but it isn’t as connected to our liturgical calendar that celebrates the different seasons and feast days. More recently, others have created a women’s lectionary, drawing attention to Scripture texts and characters that are often left out of traditional readings.

A pair of women who are also pastors have a podcast called “Mind the Gap”. The title is a play on the words posted on signs near London’s underground or subway trains, urging travelers to be careful stepping on and off the trains. On their podcast the two pastors explore the lectionary texts, looking particularly at the verses that are omitted. On a day like today when the reading from Hebrews jumps from verse 2 to verse 8, they would have discussed what was skipped or left out.

It turns out the missing verses are the beginning of a list of Old Testament characters who are being described as models of faith. And, truly, it is ok that they are cut out of our reading.

But what is also lost is a verse that Martin Luther often quoted as he taught about the importance of faith. Verse 6 says,

And without faith, it is impossible to please God, for whoever would approach him must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who seek him.

Luther wrote in his Lectures on Galatians that “where Christ and faith are not present, here there is no forgiveness of sins or hiding of sins.” (LW 26:133)

Luther argues that “A Christian is not someone who has no sin or feels no sin; he is someone to who because of his faith in Christ, God does not impute [or assign] his sin.”

Luther’s understanding of justification by faith is that faith is a gift given to us by God and it is through faith in Christ that we receive the forgiveness of God. We cannot add anything to what God has done.

Our reading from Hebrews begins with a definition of faith that is often repeated.

In our translation the verse says,

“Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen."

In the Common English Bible, the translation is,

“Faith is the reality of what we hope for, the proof of what we don't see.”

But while the words fit on a throw pillow, they aren’t merely sentimental decoration. They are a bold statement.

Faith is where God’s promises become real.  The assurance and the hope for what we cannot see rests on what we know about who God is.

The author of Hebrews goes on to tell the stories of our spiritual ancestors to emphasize that God fulfills God’s promises.  “Faith …exists in the word of promise that depends…on God keeping the promise.” (Steven D. Paulson. Lutheran Theology, 57)

Again and again, the author begins with the words “by faith.”

“By faith Abel offered…”

“By faith Noah respected God’s warning”

“By faith Abraham obeyed…”

And listening to their stories, we are invited to reflect on the people we know and see how they too have acted “by faith.” And even more, to reflect on our lives and how we have acted by faith.

In responding to the vocation God gives each of us.

In deciding where to live and raise families.

In choosing how to care for our neighbors.

In listening for where God is calling us next.

Always remembering that the faith that sustains us is not of our own creation, but wholly and holy gift to us from the God who loves us and forgives us completely. 

Thanks be to God.