Lectionary 24A

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

Mateo 18:21-35

Oremos.

Que las palabras de mi boca y las meditaciones de nuestros corazones sean gratas ante ti, oh Señor, nuestra roca y nuestro redentor. Amén.

 

Confieso que, siempre que el Evangelio describe el llanto y el crujir de dientes o la condena a esclavos a ser torturados,

cuando no termina con un acontecimiento esperanzador, como la sanidad o la restauración de una persona,

me cuestiono si es apropiado llamarlo «las Buenas Noticias». Pero recuerdo que, al igual que en el Viernes Santo, en este texto SÍ hay buenas noticias que escuchar debido a lo que Dios ha hecho.

 

Y nuestra tarea es buscar la acción de Dios.

 

Esa tarea choca con una explicación simple o esquemática de la parábola, en la que cada personaje representa algo o a alguien específico.

 

En la parábola que tenemos hoy,

al principio,

parece que el rey representa a Dios y el esclavo perdonado nos representa a todos nosotros. Pero esa teoría se desmorona al final de la parábola, cuando el rey revoca el perdón que había concedido y entrega al esclavo despiadado a los torturadores.

 

¡Seguramente, Dios no retira la promesa divina del perdón!

Así que volvamos al principio y resistamos la tentación de leer las parábolas buscando un significado único.

 

Lo que aprendemos acerca de Dios gracias a la conversación de Jesús con Pedro, justo antes de este pasaje, es que Dios no tiene un «límite para el perdón». (Capon, 190) Y lo que la parábola nos muestra es que el perdón de Dios es un don inmerecido —gracia— otorgado sin esperar arrepentimiento, reforma o respuesta alguna. (Capon, 190)

 

Nos cuesta creer que el perdón nos pertenece simplemente porque Dios nos ama tanto. Nos convencemos de que, sin duda, tenemos que hacer algo..

 

Pero el esclavo despiadado nunca le pide perdón al rey. Es probable que ni siquiera se le ocurra la posibilidad de recibir misericordia.

 

Lo único que reconoce es que no puede pagar su deuda y pide paciencia para disponer de más tiempo y así pagarlo que debe. Dado que Mateo menciona la cifra fantástica de diez mil talentos —equivalente a más de seis mil denarios, o al salario de sesenta millones de días de trabajo—, sabemos que al esclavo le habría sido imposible vivir y trabajar lo suficiente para liquidar la deuda. Sin embargo, posponer lo inevitable parece ser su única opción.

 

Y entonces, el rey hace algo totalmente inesperado: perdona la deuda, borrándola por completo y liberando al siervo de su carga. 

 

El rey deja a un lado su contabilidad y cierra su libro de cuentas, con sus columnas de sumas y cifras. En efecto, muere a una vida transaccional regida por deudas y pagos; y en su lugar, elige invertir en una relación y ofrecer una transformación.

 

No llegamos a ver la reacción del esclavo. Mateo solo nos dice que «salió». Quizás estaba abrumado, o tal vez distraído o preocupado.

 

Al leer esta parábola, me pregunto:

 

«¿En qué momentos de mi vida he estado demasiado ocupada o preocupada como para reconocer cuándo he recibido gracia?» y

 

«¿Cuándo he pasado por alto o minimizado la magnitud de la gracia de Dios para mi?» 

 

Mateo nos cuenta que cuando salió el esclavo se encontró con otro que le debía una pequeña suma. 

 

Pero en lugar de mostrar misericordia y ofrecer el perdón que él mismo acababa de recibir, agredió y amenazó a aquel hombre.

 

Aquel esclavo despiadado no fue transformado por el perdón y la misericordia que había recibido. Y en vez de reflejar la gracia que se le había otorgado y elegir una vida fundamentada en el perdón, optó por la venganza y el castigo. Eligió caminos que producen muerte en lugar de caminos que dan vida.

 

Hay más personajes que analizar al reflexionar sobre esta parábola, pero hoy quiero centrarme en estos dos.

 

Poco después de que el esclavo despiadado amenazara al otro, unos testigos informan al rey de su comportamiento. El rey también vuelve a sus viejas costumbres y retoma su papel de cobrador de deudas. Enfurecido por la maldad del siervo, el rey cancela su perdón que le había concedido y lo entrega para que sea torturado. 

 

En lugar de comparar al rey con Dios para ver en qué se parecen, la parábola nos invita primero a notar como Dios es diferente. (Schottroff, 203)

 

«El perdón humano nunca es perfecto». (Hultgren, 29) Pero, a diferencia del rey de la parábola, ¡Dios no retira su misericordia! Dios, en Jesucristo, elimina nuestras deudas; estas son clavadas en la cruz y nosotros quedamos libres.

 

Al igual que el siervo despiadado, podemos elegir cómo responder a esta gracia. El perdón de Dios está a nuestro alcance: podemos vivir en su luz o elegir la muerte.

 

La segunda invitación consiste en vernos reflejados en la parábola. Es probable que nuestro lugar en ella cambie en distintos momentos de nuestras vidas; esa es una de las razones por las que leemos y releemos la Biblia.

 

Mientras seguimos reflexionando sobre esta historia, preguntémonos: 

¿Cuándo hemos necesitado el perdón?

¿Cuándo hemos recibido el perdón de manera inesperada?

¿Cuándo hemos tenido en nuestras manos el poder de perdonar?

¿Cuándo hemos querido negar la misericordia porque otra persona nos ha decepcionado o no ha estado a la altura de nuestras expectativas?

¿Cuándo hemos retenido la misericordia, olvidando cuánta misericordia hemos recibido ya?

 

Con estas preguntas presentes, oremos:

Dios misericordioso,

te damos gracias por tu amor inquebrantable y por la gracia que conocemos a través de tu Hijo Jesús.

Ayúdanos a compartir siempre con generosidad la abundante misericordia que hemos recibido primero,

recordando tu amor por todos nosotros.

Concédenos sabiduría para reconocer tu obra en nuestras vidas y ser agradecidos.

Oramos en el nombre de Jesús.

Amén.

Matthew 18:21-35

 

I confess that whenever the Gospel describes weeping and the gnashing of teeth or condemning slaves to be tortured, 

when it doesn’t end with a hopeful event, like a person’s healing or restoration, 

I question calling it “the Good News”. But I remember, that like Good Friday, there IS good news to hear in this text because of what God has done.

 

And our task is to look for God’s action. 

 

That task is at odds with a simple or tidy explanation of the parable where each character represents something or someone specific. 

 

In the parable we have today, 

at the beginning, 

it seems like the king represents God and the forgiven slave represents all of us. But that theory falls apart at the end of the parable when the king revokes the forgiveness that he had shown and hands the unmerciful slave to the torturers.

 

Surely, God doesn’t rescind the divine promise of forgiveness!

So, let’s go back to the beginning and resist the temptation to read the parables in search of a singular meaning.

 

What we learn about God from Jesus’ conversation with Peter just before this is that “God doesn’t have a “cutoff point for forgiveness.” (Capon, 190) And what the parable shows us is that God’s forgiveness is unmerited gift – grace – given without waiting for repentance, reform or response. (Capon, 190) 

 

We struggle to believe that forgiveness is ours because God loves us so. We convince ourselves that surely, we have to do something.

 

But the unmerciful slave never asks the king for forgiveness. The possibility of mercy probably doesn’t even occur to him. 

 

He only names that he cannot pay his debt and asks for patience so that he can have more time to pay what he owes. Because Matthew includes the fantastic sum of ten thousand talents – the equivalent of more than six thousand denarii or wages for sixty million days of labor – we know that the slave could not possibly live and work long enough to settle the debt. But postponing the inevitable appears to be his only option.

 

And then the king does something completely unexpected. He forgives the debt, erasing it and freeing the slave from its burden. 

 

The king abandons his bookkeeping, closing his ledger with its columns of sums and figures. Effectively, he dies to a transactional life ruled by debts and payments, and instead, he chooses to invest in a relationship and offer transformation.

 

We don’t get to witness the slave’s reaction. Matthew only tells his that “he went out.” Maybe he was overwhelmed, or perhaps he was distracted or worried. 

 

As I read this parable, I wonder, 

“When in my own life have I been too busy, or worried, to recognize when I’ve received grace?” and 

“When have I overlooked or minimized the magnitude of God’s grace for me?”

 

Matthew tells us that when the slave went out, he came upon another slave who owed him a small sum. But instead of being merciful, extending forgiveness like he had just received, he assaulted and threatened the man.

 

The unmerciful slave was unchanged by the forgiveness and mercy he had been given. And instead of mirroring the grace he’d been given and choosing a life grounded in forgiveness, he chose vengeance and retribution. He chose death-dealing ways over life-giving ones.

 

There are more characters to examine as we reflect on this parable, but for today I want to stay with these two.

 

Shortly after the unmerciful slave threatens the other slave, onlookers report his behavior to the king. And the king falls back into his old habits as well, resuming his role as a debt collector. Angered by the unmerciful slave’s malice, the king cancels his forgiveness of the man’s debt and hands him over to be tortured. 

 

Instead of comparing the king and God and finding how they are similar, the parable invites us first to notice how God is different. (Schottroff, 203) 

 

“Human forgiveness is never perfect.” (Hultgren, 29) But unlike the king in the parable, God does not withdraw God’s mercy! God, in Jesus Christ, takes away our debts; they are nailed to the cross and we are set free. 

 

Like the unmerciful servant, we get to choose how we respond to this grace. God’s forgiveness is here for us, and we can live in its light, or we can choose death.

 

The second invitation is to see ourselves in the parable. Our place likely changes at different times in our lives, which is one of the reasons we read and reread the Bible. 

 

As we continue to think about this story, let’s ask:

When have we needed forgiveness?

When have we been forgiven unexpectedly?

When have we held the power of forgiveness?

When have we wanted to revoke mercy because another person has disappointed us or fallen short of our expectations?

When have we withheld mercy, forgetting how much mercy we have received already?

 

Holding those questions lightly, let us pray:

Merciful God, 

Thank you for your steadfast love and the grace that we know through your Son Jesus.

Help us always share generously from the abundant mercy we have first received,

remembering your love for us all.

Give us wisdom that we might notice your actions in our lives for us and be thankful.

We pray in Jesus’ name. 

Amen.

Reformation Sunday 2025

John 8:31-36

Let us pray…
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in your sight, Lord, our strength and our redeemer. Amen.
 
Like the Israelites listening to Jesus in John’s gospel, many of us might balk at the notion that we ever have been, or are now, enslaved. Like them, we have short memories.
 
I say that because we often begin our worship with the rite of confession and forgiveness, saying to God, “we confess that we are in bondage to sin and cannot free ourselves.” We name how sinfulness is the very nature of our human condition. And then we forget.
 
God doesn’t forget, but thankfully, God does not leave us there in the muck and mire of our sin. Because God loves us, God forgives our sin and frees us from bondage. It is completely God’s action for each of us, and it is pure gift.
 
Until we understand the size or volume of our sin, we cannot grasp the magnitude of God’s action for us. We fall back into thinking we need to believe more, do more and earn God’s favor.
 
Unless we accept that the cross upends the way we think the world should work, we will continue to underestimate what our freedom in Christ means for us, and for our neighbors.
 
Because freed from sin,
slaves to no one and to nothing,
we are called to be servants to all.
I often say faith is never only about me and Jesus. It is always a cross shaped relationship, between God and us, and between us and our neighbors, community and world.
 
Which brings me to my question for us today as we remember Luther’s teaching and the movement of the Reformation more than five hundred years ago:
“What does faith free us to do that we cannot do alone?”
 
Faith frees us from fear. One of the stories we hear about Martin Luther is how his understanding of who God is was transformed by his reading of Scripture. When he studied St. Paul’s letter to the Romans, his image of a vengeful and punishing God was replaced by a God of mercy and grace whose awesome gift for us is the righteousness of God flowing to us that brings us into God’s presence. We are to “love and fear God” not because God is wrathful but because God’s grace is beyond our comprehension.
 
Faith frees us to follow God’s will, keeping Christ at the center of our lives. When we accept our chosen-ness by God, and God’s abundant love for us, we can stop competing for approval in the world and its terms. We can, like Luther, stand up and boldly claim, “I am a baptized child of God” with confidence that God is with us in all of the ups and downs we experience. Abundant life in Christ is found in relationship.
 
Faith frees us to stand with our neighbors. At Grace we have a history of more than four decades of showing up in our community, partnering with ministries who provide food, shelter and assistance to people living without basic needs. In any given week, you can see Grace members volunteering at the Rescue Mission, at Interfaith Assistance Ministries, the Thrive Clubhouse, and Habitat for Humanity, as well as at Safelight, the Storehouse and the Free Clinics. In the book study we just wrapped up, we heard stories from the global church where faith has empowered communities to build schools, to provide health education and prevent diseases like malaria and to work across ecumenical and even interfaith divisions to address needs. Faith says that none of us are whole unless all of us are whole, and when one suffers, we all suffer. Faith frees us to love selflessly.
 
Today as we celebrate the freedom given to us in our faith in Christ Jesus, we are also celebrating the affirmation of baptism milestone for Dustin and Kaylee, young adults whose faith has been nurtured and formed here in our congregation and by their family. They completed their confirmation instruction but had not yet participated in the milestone and expressed a desire to do that.
 
On this Reformation Sunday, let us celebrate that we are joined together in faith and commit to living in the freedom faith gives us for the sake of the world God loves.
 
Amen.

"Broken" Midweek Reflection (Week 5)

Romans8:26-28

Hebrews 4:15-16

Throughout our study of Henri Nouwen’s Life of the Beloved, we have been learning how to receive the gift of God naming us “beloved.”

We have reflected on two of the four words that Nouwen uses to describe the movement of the Spirit among us. We are “taken” or “chosen” by God and God calls us “blessed”.

The next word Nouwen uses is broken.

Some twenty years before writing Life of the Beloved, Nouwen wrote The Wounded Healer. In that book his premise was that one who is ministering to others must look after one’s own wounds but at the same time be prepared to heal the wounds of others. He recognizes that we all bear wounds and we all are broken.

In this book, he writes,

Our sufferings and pains are not simply bothersome interruptions of our lives; they touch us in our uniqueness and our most intimate individuality. (87)

He continues, writing,

The way I am broken tells you something unique about me.
The way you are broken tells me something about you. (87)

And he urges us not to be afraid of our brokenness,
but to accept our brokenness as readily
as we accept our chosen-ness and blessedness.

One of the first ways we can accept our brokenness is to name it.

“Loneliness, isolation, insecurity, frustration, confusion…all these are forms of brokenness.” (Week 5, Study Guide) And I wonder,
what kind of brokenness feels most present or challenging for you right now? (pause)

Writing this book to his friend, Nouwen says choosing to share our brokenness with each other, to share our deep struggles, is a sign of deep friendship or relationship. (86)

I think one of the beautiful parts of friendship is when we can sit with another person and listen to them share their brokenness without denying it or trying to fix it.

Once we accept our brokenness Nouwen suggests two practices for us to respond to it: befriending it
and putting it under the blessing. (92)

Ignoring or hiding pain or suffering doesn’t erase it or reduce its effects. When we are fearful, our fear magnifies the obstacles and the challenges we face seem even larger.

Nouwen suggests instead that we need to step toward our pain and live through it. (95)

There’s no way to go around it. But we do not face it alone.

[We] need someone to keep us standing in it, to assure [us] that there is peace beyond anguish, life beyond death, and love beyond fear. (95)

As siblings in Christ, we help each other transform our suffering.

And when we do that, we also bring that suffering out of the shadows and bring it to God.

The shadows or what Nouwen calls “the curse” is our temptation to understand the brokenness we experience as confirmation of our un-worthiness.

It is what happens when we forget we are God’s beloved,
when we forget we are chosen by God as God’s children,
and when we forget we are blessed by God
for the sake of the world God loves.

I think of Adam and Eve in Eden in Genesis, when they hide from God.  Genesis 3, verses 8 and 9 say:

⁸ They heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden at the time of the evening breeze, and the man and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God among the trees of the garden. ⁹ But the Lord God called to the man and said to him, “Where are you?” ¹⁰ He said, “I heard the sound of you in the garden, and I was afraid, because I was naked, and I hid myself.”

I wonder how often we hide among the trees, hoping to hide something about ourselves from the God who created and loves us? (pause)

Nouwen urges us instead to put our brokenness under the blessing of God, trusting God to use our experiences to strengthen us and to see the pruning or winnowing as a natural part of our growth as disciples. (98)

Like joy, sorrow “becomes [part of our] desire to grow to the fullness of the Beloved.” (99)

That reminds me of Peter after the crucifixion.

John 21 tells the story of Jesus and the disciples cooking breakfast on the shore of the Sea of Tiberias, and Simon Peter and Jesus are having a conversation where three times Jesus asks Simon Peter whether he loves Jesus. And each time, Peter insists, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.” And Jesus does know. And he knows Peter faltered and denied him three times before his crucifixion. And he forgives him.

Truly, nothing is hidden from God and nothing, not even our brokenness, separates us from the love of God and our lives as God’s beloved.

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.

Lent 4C

Lucas 15:1-3, 11b-32

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

Oremos… Que las palabras de mi boca y las meditaciones de nuestros corazones sean gratas a tu vista, Señor, fortaleza y redentor nuestro. Amén. 

Hace unos años, un amigo le presentó a su hija menor la película de 1987 “La princesa prometida”. No recuerdo cuándo vi la película por primera vez, pero una de las frases memorables la dice el personaje de Inigo Montoya después de que Vizzini exclamó “¡Inconcebible!” demasiadas veces. Montoya le dice al otro hombre: “Sigues diciendo esa palabra. Creo que no significa lo que tu piensas que significa”.

Siempre recuerdo esa cita cuando leo el Evangelio de hoy, porque muchas traducciones de la Biblia llaman a este pasaje “El hijo pródigo”. Pero confieso que “pródigo” no significa lo que yo creía. No recuerdo la primera vez que escuché esta historia, pero sé que siempre escuché el énfasis puesto en el regreso del hijo descarriado y la forma en que el “regresa a si mismo.”.

o recupera la cordura y luego practica su disculpa mientras regresa a la casa de su padre. El problema cuando leemos esta historia de esa manera, como escribió Tom Long, profesor de la Escuela de Teología Candler: «El hijo pródigo se convierte en el "jugador de regreso del año". ⁱ

Pero no se le llama hijo pródigo porque regresa.

“Pródigo” significa “desperdiciador, extravagante, imprudente o excesivo”. Los editores que decidieron el título de las diferentes historias bíblicas lo llaman hijo pródigo porque desperdicia su herencia.

Creo que el verdadero pródigo en esta historia es el padre. Después de todo, él es quien, desafiando todas las normas culturales, le da al hijo menor su parte de la herencia cuando este se la pide. Él es quien no duda en darle la bienvenida a su hijo cuando regresa.

De hecho, el padre no solo se reconcilia con él, sino que es él quien les dice a los sirvientes que maten al becerro gordo, animando a toda la casa a celebrar su regreso. Amade manera excesiva. El padre otorga la misma gracia que recibimos de Dios, totalmente inmerecida o no ganada, dada con alegría y sin reservas.

Y no solo al hijo menor. Cuando el hermano mayor confronta a su padre, este le dice: “Hijo, siempre estás conmigo, y todo lo mío es tuyo” (v. 31). Siendo un seguidor de las reglas que demostró lealtad y responsabilidad, el hijo mayor no ha experimentado ninguna alegría al mantener una relación con su padre. Solo ha acumulado resentimiento que estalla al presenciar el amor del padre por el hijo menor. Escuchamos cómo su resentimiento ha distorsionado su visión del mundo cuando se queja con el padre de “este hijo tuyo”. Aunque ambos son hermanos, el resentimiento ha erosionado su vínculo común.

El maestro franciscano Padre Richard Rohr escribe en Respirando Bajo el Agua:

“La muerte de cualquier relación con alguien es tener un sentido de derecho. Cualquier ideade “me lo merezco”, “me lo deben”, “tengo derecho a” o “soy superior a ti” minimiza por completo cualquier noción de fe, esperanza o amor…”.

Es lo que Rohr llama una actitud “destructiva del alma”.ⁱⁱ

El padre le ruega a su hijo mayor que se una a la fiesta que se está celebrando para “este hermano tuyo”, pero Lucas nunca nos dice cómo termina la historia. ¿Se restablece la familia? ¿O continúa el hijo mayor con un comportamiento destructor del alma? ¿Y cómo responde el hijo menor a la gracia que ha recibido?

Esas preguntas quedan a la sagrada imaginación. 

Nuestra manera de escuchar  la historia bíblica siempre se ve afectada por nuestras propias experiencias de vida, por lo que el final que imaginamos  podría estar influenciado por si éramos hermanos menores o mayores, nuestras relaciones con padres y figuras paternas, y nuestras propias experiencias de perdón. 

La buena noticia de este evangelio es que, in importar de dónde nos ubiquemos en la historia, cada uno de nosotros es amado de forma extravagante sin condición por Dios, incluso cuando sentimos que tenemos derecho a nuestro lugar en la familia de Dios; incluso cuando desperdiciamos la generosidad de Dios; incluso cuando abandonamos a Dios en los buenos momentos, solo para regresar cuando estamos desesperados y necesitamos ayuda.

Cada uno de nosotros es amado de forma extravagante y sin condición por Dios, incluso cuando hacemos y decimos todo lo correcto, pero mantenemos nuestros corazones cerrados a la alegría y a los demás frutos del Espíritu de Dios en nuestras vidas; incluso cuando permitimos que el resentimiento y el mal endurezcan nuestros corazones hacia nuestros hermanos y hermanas en Cristo; incluso cuando nos frustramos o nos sentimos insultados por la insensatez de la gracia prodiga de Dios.

Todos somos amados, y Dios esta esperando para darnos la bienvenida en casa como hijos de Dios. En unos minutos com-partiremos la paz de Cristo donde, como el padre abrazando a su hijo, nos reconciliamos con Dios y entre nosotros, y luego, en esta Mesa, en la Santa Comunión, celebraremos un anticipo de la fiesta venidera, disfrutando de la promesa del perdón de Dios por nuestros pecados y de las maneras en que su misericordia se renueva cada día.

Oremos… Dios misericordioso, te damos gracias por el amor redentor que nos das a través de tu hijo Jesús; perdonados y alimentados, envíanos al mundo a compartir tu gracia reconciliadora, para que todos conozcan tu amor. Amén.

[1] Tom Long. “Surprise Party” in Living by the Word, The Christian Century, 2001.

[1] Richard Rohr. Breathing Under Water. 61-62.

Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32

A few years ago, a friend introduced his youngest daughter to the 1987 movie “The Princess Bride.” I don’t remember when I first saw the film, but one of the memorable lines is delivered by the character Inigo Montoya after Vizzini exclaims, “Inconceivable” one too many times. Montoya tells the other man, “You keep saying that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.”

I always remember that quote when I read today’s gospel, because many Bible translations name this passage “The Prodigal Son.” But I confess, “prodigal” doesn’t mean what I thought it meant. I don’t remember the first time I heard this story, but I know I always heard the emphasis placed on the return of the wayward son and the way that he “comes to himself” or returns to his senses and then practices his apology as he makes his way back to his father’s house. The problem when we read this story that way, as Candler Divinity School professor Tom Long wrote, “The prodigal son becomes the “comeback player of the year.”[i]

But he isn’t called the prodigal son because he comes back.

“Prodigal” means “wasteful, extravagant, reckless, or excessive.” The editors who decided what to title the different bible stories call him the prodigal son because he wastes his inheritance.

I believe the true prodigal in this story is the father. After all he is the one who, in defiance of all cultural norms, gives the younger son his share of the inheritance when he asks for it. He is the one who doesn’t hesitate to welcome the son back when he returns. In fact, not only does the father reconcile with him but he is the one who tells the servants to kill the fatted calf, encouraging the whole household to celebrate his return. He loves excessively. The father delivers the same grace we receive from God, wholly unmerited or unearned, given joyfully and without reservation.

And not only to the younger son. When the older brother confronts his father, the father says, “Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours.” (v. 31) A rule follower who demonstrated loyalty and responsibility, the older son hasn’t experienced any joy from remaining in a relationship with his father. He has accumulated only resentment that boils over when he witnesses the father’s love for the younger son. We hear how his resentment has warped his view of the world when he complains to the father about “this son of yours.” Although the two are brothers their common bond has been eaten away by resentment.

Franciscan teacher Father Richard Rohr writes in Breathing Under Water,

“The death of any relationship with anyone is to have a sense of entitlement. Any notion that “I deserve,” “I am owed,” “I have a right to,” or “I am higher than you” absolutely undermines any notion of faith, hope or love…”

It is what Rohr calls a “soul-destructive” attitude.[ii]

The father pleads with the older son to join the party being thrown for “this brother of yours” but Luke never tells us how the story ends. Is the family restored? Or does the older son continue to engage in soul-destructive behavior? And how does the younger son respond to the grace he has received?

Those questions are left to holy imagination. Our hearing of the biblical story always is affected by our own life experiences, so the ending we might picture could be influenced by whether we were younger siblings or older, our relationships with fathers and father-figures, and our own experiences of forgiveness.

The good news of this gospel is that, regardless of where we locate ourselves in the story,

each one of us is loved extravagantly and recklessly by God —

even when we feel entitled to our place in God’s family;

even when we squander God’s generosity;

even when we abandon God in good times, only to return when we are desperate and need help.

Each one of us is loved extravagantly and recklessly by God — even when we do and say all the right things but keep our hearts closed to joy and the other fruits of God’s Spirit in our lives;

even when we let resentment and evil harden our hearts to our brothers and sisters in Christ;

even when we get frustrated or insulted at the foolishness of our prodigal God’s grace.

We are all loved, and God is waiting to welcome us home as God’s children. In a few minutes we’ll share the peace of Christ where, like the father embracing his son, we are reconciled to God and with one another, and then, at this Table, in Holy Communion, we will celebrate a foretaste of the feast to come, enjoying the promise of God’s forgiveness for our sin and the ways God’s mercy is new every day.

Let us pray…

Merciful God,

We give you thanks for the redemptive love that you give us through your son Jesus;

Forgiven and fed send us out in the world to share your reconciling grace, that everyone would know your love.

Amen.

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[i] Tom Long. “Surprise Party” in Living by the Word, The Christian Century, 2001.

[ii] Richard Rohr. Breathing Under Water. 61-62.