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.

Seventh Sunday after Pentecost

Luke 13:1-11

A pastor I knew once told me how he changed the format of the Lord’s Prayer in a congregation where he was serving from the words that we frequently use, with “trespasses” and “temptation” to a version that asks God “to forgive our sins” and “save us from the time of trial”. When someone complained that the new version wasn’t what Jesus prayed, Pastor Ernie explained that neither was the earlier version. None of the versions of the Lord’s Prayer that we use today in worship are exactly like the prayers we find here in Luke or in Matthew.

But both Gospel writers include a phrase near the beginning that is preserved in what we say: “hallowed be thy name”.

“Hallowed” is often translated as an adjective, but in the Greek, in both Matthew and Luke, it is a verb.

“Hallowed be thy name,” is an invitation for God to act in the world. It is not simply praise. It is not to say, “Holy is your name,” it is a request for God to act in the world so that God’s name would be made holy.[i]

In the Common English Bible, the translation is “uphold the holiness of your name”. With our prayer, we are asking God to show God’s presence in the world so that people will know God’s name and know who God is.[ii]

That is a very different prayer posture than coming to God wanting God to fulfill our desires or meet our needs.

In fact, in his explanation of this petition, Martin Luther says that God’s name is hallowed “whenever the word of God is taught clearly and purely and we, as God’s children, also live holy lives according to it.”[iii]

The late Eugene Peterson in his book Working the Angles wrote:

We want life on our conditions, not God’s conditions. Praying puts us at risk of getting involved in God’s conditions... Praying most often doesn’t get us what we want but what God wants….[iv] (emphasis mine)

In prayer, we invite God to include us in God’s work in the world. And commit to live according to God’s design and will, even when it is uncomfortable or unexpected.

Remember this is a continuation of the conversations Jesus has been having with his disciples for the last several Sundays. He began by talking about the kingdom of God and loving our neighbors and he told the story of the Good Samaritan. He taught us to set aside the preconceptions we may have about the strangers we meet and love unconditionally.

Then he dined with Martha and Mary and continued to talk about the hospitality of God’s people and the importance of being present with those who are with us. He reminded us to focus on what’s important, listening to Jesus and knowing how much God loves each of us and our unique gifts.

And now he is talking about God’s own work in the world, and how God listens and responds to us - with more generosity than a loving parent and an invitation to help others see God’s abundant and transforming love in action.

Peterson reminds us,

Prayer is our response to the initiative of God. [God] is always the conversation starter, and we are always the conversation responder.[v]

As we enter the last full month of summer, and we continue to grow as disciples or followers of Jesus, I wonder how we can respond to what we see God doing and how we can participate in God’s invitation to show others who God is.

We have opportunities locally and globally.

We regularly have wooden beams in the reception area that we are invited to sign with prayers for new homeowners participating in programs with Habitat for Humanity. And other times, we have food drives to help hungry neighbors. We often help nearby neighbors with resources or connect them with partners who can help even more.

Many of you are already familiar with our support of Anastasis Baptist Church in Durango, Mexico, and today after worship, some of us will listen and learn more about another church, this one in Madagascar, that we have supported. Their congregation - more than 9,000 miles away and in a different hemisphere - is praying for us even now.

And we covet those prayers because we know God’s ways are not our ways and often, we are called to work that is unexpected. May we always respond with openness and a commitment to hallow God, helping others know and experience the abundant love our Holy God offers us all.  Amen.

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[i] “Proper 12C” Pulpit Fiction. https://www.pulpitfiction.com/notes/proper12c
[ii] ibid
[iii] Luther’s Small Catechism, Study Edition. 35.
[iv] Eugene Peterson. Working the Angles. 44.
[v] ibid, 45.

Sixth Sunday after Pentecost

Luke 10:38-42
 
One of my favorite stories of sisters is the movie The Parent Trap. I loved the original but the one I remember even better is the remake that came out when my children were little. If you don’t know the story, it’s about two girls who meet at summer camp and immediately become bitter enemies. They are polar opposites. They cause enough chaos that eventually they are punished by being put in a solitary cabin together. And that’s where they figure out that they are identical twins who had been separated as babies; one was raised by mom and the other by dad. Together they concoct a scheme to reunite their family, swapping places when the summer camp is over and it’s time to go home. Predictably, things don’t go according to plan and the movie makes us all witnesses to what happens next and all the ways that different personalities, habits and feelings make life and family beautifully messy and complicated.
 
Today’s gospel gives us another sister story, and it’s a story that has been used to divide sisters and women into two camps of their own. In error, it has been used to contrast different ways of being and value one way of being over the other and diminish one in favor of the other.
 
I believe those interpretations miss the point.
 
While Martha provides generous hospitality, and Mary practices devotion, that isn’t what matters in this story.
 
Our relationship with God is not dependent on what we bring to the table. We are beloved by God because God says so, not because we have done anything to earn our salvation, to merit our welcome or to deserve the mercy we are given.
 
While the story compares Martha and her sister Mary, and the ways they are different, God isn’t favoring one or the other. Service is praised in Luke’s gospel. Martha doesn’t turn away the guests at her door, and she doesn’t suggest they come back at a more convenient time. She doesn’t ask for more money or groceries to prepare.  Instead, she gets to work to meet the needs in front of her.
 
What Jesus calls out is Martha’s frustration and distraction. When she becomes anxious and overwhelmed, she turns in on herself and away from her guest who is Christ himself.
 
We know from Scripture and from our life together that, for some, discipleship is lived out in the details of the common life, and for others, in service to the Word.[i] Both are needed. But Jesus reminds us that the center of any discipleship practice is Christ.
 
Anytime we do anything, we are called to do it in Christ’s name and for God’s glory, not for ourselves or not for own recognition. We are called to share the light of God shining from within us and we are called to share God’s abundant love with others.
 
God creates each of us with our unique gifts and abilities and there are many different ways of living our lives of discipleship. “New occasions teach new duties.”[ii] We must identify when we are called to engage in service and when we are called to sit and listen. We aren’t bound by a binary choice of one or the other. We can do both.
 
What the story tells us about God is
that God always meets us where we are.
 
God comes into our lives to be in relationship with us. Not because we make the softest cookies or the most savory barbecue, or even the best coffee. And not because we can recite the name of the books of the Bible or the Apostle’s Creed from memory.
 
God wants us to draw near that we may know God, and experience God’s grace for us.
 
To know we are loved even when we have nothing to offer; in baptism we are brought to the font by parents and we are given the gift of welcome because of what God has done, not us.
 
To know that at the altar, the table we gather around is not mine or yours, but God’s; God is the host, inviting us to be fed and nourished, sustained from one day to the next.
 
Wherever we are, we are in God’ presence, and we are welcomed and loved just as we are.
 
May we always find our place with Jesus, trusting that we are loved because God says so and for no other reason.
Amen.

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[i] Douglas John Hall. “Proper 11.” Feasting on the Word Commentary: Pentecost and Season after Pentecost 1 (Propers 3-16). Kindle, 662.
[ii] ibid, 661.

Fifth Sunday after Pentecost

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

Lucas 10:25-37

Oremos… Que las palabras de mi boca y las meditaciones de nuestros corazónes sean gratas ante ti, oh Señor, nuestra fortaleza y nuestro redentor. Amén.

Jesús a menudo enseña contando historias que llamamos parábolas, y en el evangelio de hoy, Lucas incluye una parábola que Jesús comparte cuando un maestro de la ley le pregunta: "¿Qué debo hacer para heredar la vida eterna?" (10:25). Jesús responde con su propia pregunta y luego el maestro, experto en la Torá, responde, y luego hace una pregunta adicional.

Esta parábola, a menudo llamada la parábola del Buen Samaritano, solo se incluye en el evangelio de Lucas, un texto conocido por mostrar cómo seguir a Jesús implica cruzar fronteras.

Sabemos que los discípulos no siempre entendieron las parábolas, y al leer esta parábola, me pregunto qué nos está diciendo Jesús.

El pastor Brian Stoffregen señala que si Jesús solo intentaba enseñar a sus discípulos a ser misericordiosos con una persona necesitada, no habría razón para identificar a los personajes como sacerdote, un levita y un samaritano.

Él explica la animosidad entre Judea y Samaria, escribiendo:

Durante una antigua guerra israelíta, la mayoría de los judíos que vivían en el norte de Samaria fueron asesinados o llevados al exilio. Sin embargo, algunos judíos, tan insignificantes que nadie los quería, fueron dejados en Samaria.

El describe cómo los matrimonios mixtos y la mezcla de creencias y culturas religiosas crearon una división entre los judíos del norte y del sur, y cómo los samaritanos entendían la Torá de manera diferente y adoraban a Dios en el Monte Gerizim, no en Jerusalén.

Stoffregen argumenta que, si Jesús estuviera criticando a los poderosos líderes religiosos, el tercer personaje habría sido un laico común, un “judío regular”.

Y, si la lección hubiera sido amar a nuestros enemigos, entonces el hombre tirado en el camino habría sido el samaritano, cuidado por un bondadoso israelita.

¿Qué opinas tu?

Al escuchar esta parábola, ¿te ves reflejado en la historia?

Al leer esta parábola, recuerdo que lo que nos salva y nos da vida eterna siempre es la acción de Dios por nosotros. Nunca es nuestro propio esfuerzo, méritos ni buenas obras.

Por muy tentador que sea vernos en el papel del bueno u obediente, y asumir que seríamos heroicos y bondadosos, creo que podríamos vernos más verdaderamente en aquel que fue dado por muerto en el camino a Jericó.

El que fue golpeado, asaltado y abandonado.

El que, inerte en el camino, impulsó al levita y luego al sacerdote a cruzar al otro lado para evitarlo. 

La mayoría de nosotros hemos vivido momentos en nuestras vidas y en nuestras historias en los que hemos recibido golpes devastadores, hemos sido abatidos por enemigos o atormentados por el dolor o la enfermedad. Momentos en los que nos hemos sentido invisibles o ignorados por las personas que razonablemente esperaríamos que nos cuidaran. Y podemos identificarnos con el aislamiento y la desesperación de este hombre.

Solo el samaritano se acercó lo suficiente para verlo, para notar si estaba consciente, llorando o gritando, para atender sus heridas, para cuidarlo con compasión y para llevarlo a un lugar seguro.

Solo el samaritano dio de su propia bolsa o bolsillo el dinero necesario para que el posadero cuidara al hombre herido hasta que pudiera regresar.

La enemistad entre enemigos y el orgullo y el desprecio de los israelitas por los samaritanos hacen de esta una historia improbable. Era inimaginable que un israelita aceptara el cuidado de un samaritano. Su división era demasiado profunda y amarga.

Pero la gracia de Dios es imparable.

No conoce nacionalidad ni credo. No se somete a las fronteras humanas.

Como escribe Pablo en Gálatas:

²⁶ …en Cristo Jesús todos son hijos de Dios por la fe. ²⁷ Todos los que han sido bautizados en Cristo, se han revestido de Cristo. ²⁸ Ya no hay judío ni griego; ya no hay esclavo ni libre; ya no hay varón ni mujer, porque todos son uno en Cristo Jesús.

La gracia de Dios va más allá de nuestro entendimiento.

Y, sin embargo, es evidente en el mundo en el que vivió Jesús y en nuestro mundo actual. En las maneras en que la compasión habla más fuerte que el odio o el prejuicio. Y en las maneras en que lo que nos une como un solo Cuerpo de Cristo es más grande que lo que nos separa.

Como en aquel camino a Jericó hace siglos, somos nosotros los que clamamos necesitados de la misericordia, el perdón, el cuidado y el amor de Dios.

Y nadie más que Dios nos dará el bálsamo sanador que nos restaura ala plenitud de vida que Dios nos promete como sus hijos amados. 

Amén.

Luke 10:25-37

Jesus often teaches by telling stories that we call parables, and in today’s gospel, Luke includes a parable that Jesus shares when a teacher of the law asks him, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” (10:25) Jesus answers with his own question and then the teacher, an expert in the Torah, answers, and then asks a follow-up question.

This parable - often called the parable of the Good Samaritan - is only included in Luke’s gospel, a text known for the ways that it shows how following Jesus means crossing boundaries.

We know the disciples didn’t always understand the parables, and reading this parable, I wonder what Jesus is saying to us.

Pastor Brian Stoffregen notices that if Jesus were only trying to teach his disciples to be merciful to a person in need, there’d be no reason to label the characters as a priest, a Levite and a Samaritan.

He explains the animosity between Judea and Samaria, writing:

During an ancient Israeli war, most of the Jews living up north in Samaria were killed or taken into exile. However, a few Jews, who were so unimportant that nobody wanted them, were left in Samaria.

He describes how the intermarriage and mixing of religious beliefs and cultures created a schism between the northern and southern Jews, and how the Samaritans understood Torah differently and worshiped God at Mt. Gerizim, not Jerusalem.

Stoffregen argues that if Jesus were disparaging the powerful religious leaders, the third character would have been an ordinary lay person, a ‘regular’ Jew.

And, if the lesson was to love our enemies, then the man in the ditch would have been the Samaritan, cared for by a kind Israelite.

What do you think?

When you listen to this parable, do you see yourself in the story?

Reading this parable, I remember that what saves us and gives us eternal life is always God’s action for us. It is never our own effort, merits or good works.

As tempting as it is to see ourselves in the role of the one who is good, or obedient, and to assume we would be heroic and kind,

I think we might see ourselves more truly in the one who is left for dead on the road to Jericho.

The one who was beaten and robbed and abandoned.

The one whose limp form on the road prompted the Levite and then the priest to cross to the other side in order to avoid him.

Most of us have experienced times in our lives and our stories when we have been punched in the gut, run down by enemies, or tormented by grief or illness. Times when we have felt invisible or ignored by the people we could reasonably expect would care for us. And we can relate to this man’s isolation and despair.

Only the Samaritan came close enough to see him, to notice whether he was conscious, weeping or crying out,

to tend to his injuries,

to care for him with compassion

and to carry him to safety.

Only the Samaritan gave from his own purse or pocket the money for the innkeeper to watch over the injured man until he could return.

The animosity between enemies, and the pride and disdain of Israelites for Samaritans make it an unlikely story. It was unimaginable that an Israelite would accept the care of a Samaritan. Their division was too deep and bitter.

But God’s grace is unstoppable. It doesn’t know nationality or creed. It doesn’t adhere to human boundaries.

As Paul writes in Galatians,

²⁶ …in Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith. ²⁷ As many of you as were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. ²⁸ There is no longer Jew or Greek; there is no longer slave or free; there is no longer male and female, for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.

God’s grace is beyond our understanding.

And yet, it is evident in the world Jesus lived in, and in our world today. In the ways that compassion speaks louder than hatred or prejudice. And in the ways that what connects us in one Body of Christ is greater than what separates us.

As on that road to Jericho all those centuries ago, we are the ones crying out in need of God’s mercy and forgiveness, care and love. And no one but God will provide us with the healing balm that restores us to the fullness of life that God promises to us as God’s beloved children.

Amen.

Third Sunday after Pentecost

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

Lucas 9:51-62

Oremos… Que las palabras de mi boca y las meditaciónes de nuestros corazónes sean aceptables ante ti, oh Señor, nuestra fortaleza y nuestro redentor. Amén.

La semana pasada estuve de vacaciones, y Jamie y yo dedicamos dos días para andar en bicicleta en el Cape Cod Rail Trail. El sendero pavimentado tiene veintidós millas de largo y nos alojamos cerca de la milla nueve, así que un día fuimos hacia el sur y otro hacia el norte.

Un dicho que los ciclistas comparten con los excursionistas es: "No todos los que vagan están perdidos". A lo largo de nuestra ruta, hicimos un par de desvíos para ver un poco más de lo que había fuera de los caminos principales. Para cuando colgamos los cascos, habíamos recorrido más de setenta millas.

Por el camino, nos dimos cuenta de las diferentes maneras en que la gente usaba el sendero:

había ciclistas de carretera de competición entrenando para un evento más adelante este año; había personas paseando a sus perros y padres o abuelos empujando cochecitos. Algunos, como nosotros, iban en bicicletas eléctricas, mientras que otros andaban en bicicletas tradicionales y algunas pocas personas en bicicletas reclinadas. Muchos escuchábamos el viento, el canto de los pájaros y el tráfico lejano; algunos llevaban audiófonos y otros subían el volumen, impregnando el tramo del sendero con música.

El viaje de cada persona era diferente.

En nuestro evangelio de Lucas, escuchamos sobre el viaje de los discípulos con Jesús. Es el comienzo y un desafío.

Los samaritanos que encontraron en el camino los rechazaron. Otros dos hombres les hablaron, pero aún no estaban listos para unirse a Jesús y a los discípulos en su camino.

Jesús hace una declaración difícil: “Nadie que pone la mano en el arado y mira hacia atrás es apto para el reino de Dios.” (v. 62).

Es difícil porque a menudo nos enfrentamos a elegir entre lo que es bueno y lo que es mejor. No creo que Jesús dijera que los hombres que eligieron atender a sus familias y responsabilidades eran maloso incluso equivocados. Pero él no duda en llamar a las cosas por su nombre, y ellos no eligieron seguir a Jesús.

Al igual que ellos, tenemos albedrío, o libre albedrío, y si queremos vivir como discípulos, debemos seguir a Jesús con toda nuestra vida, y no solo de nombre.

A principios de este año, cuando ensene un estudio bíblico sobre los Salmos, uno de los salmos se junto con el poema de Robert Frost titulado "El camino no tomado", que termina con estas palabras:

Dos caminos se bifurcaban en un bosque, y yo...

Tomé el menos transitado,

Y eso marcó la diferencia.ⁱ

Una vida de discipulado es una elección costosa. Y es una que mira hacia adelante, dejando atrás lo que nos detiene, enfocándonos en la obra de la relación y la vida en común que nos espera.

Mientras Jamie y yo recorríamos el sendero, teníamos que enfocarnos en lo que nos esperaba. ¡Mirar hacia atrás en una bicicleta en movimiento es peligroso! Resulta que tampoco es la postura correcta en el ministerio. Cuando solo podemos ver dónde estamos o dónde hemos estado, no podemos tener “una visión de hacia dónde Dios podría llevarnos.”ⁱⁱ

En el ciclismo, mantener la cabeza en alto y la mirada al frente ayuda a mantener el equilibrio. En el ministerio, nos impide encerrarnos en nosotros mismos, esa misma postura profundamente encorvada de incurvatus in se que Martín Lutero define como la naturaleza del pecado.

Pero en nuestro recorrido, no solo teníamos que concentrarnos en nosotros mismos. Había cruces de caminos, puentes y túneles que cambiaban el terreno que recorríamos, y había otros usuarios del sendero. Sabíamos adónde íbamos, pero aún había muchas incógnitas que debíamos navegar.

En el Evangelio, Jesús nos dice que sigamos mirando hacia adelante. Habrá desafíos, habrá lugares difíciles y habrá dificultades, pero no viajamos solos ni estamos desprevenidos. Jesús está con nosotros y nos guía.

Oremos…

Dios Santo,

“Tú eres mi Señor; nada hay bueno fuera de ti”.

Aconséjame e instrúyeme.

Alegra mi corazón y mi alma, y permite que mi cuerpo descanse.

Muéstrame el camino de la vida y ayúdame a encontrar plenitud de gozo en tu presencia.

Amén.

ⁱ https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44272/the-road-not-taken

ⁱⁱ Brian Stoffregen. Exegetical Notes on Luke 9:51-62.

ⁱⁱⁱ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Incurvatus_in_sei 

Luke 9:51-62

This past week I was on vacation, and Jamie and I took two days to ride bicycles on the Cape Cod Rail Trail. The paved trail is twenty-two miles long and we stayed near mile marker nine, so one day we rode south and another day we rode north.

A saying cyclists share with hikers is, “All who wander are not lost.”  And along our route we took a couple of detours to see a little more of what was off the beaten path. By the time we hung up our helmets we had ridden more than seventy miles.

Along the way, we noticed the different ways people used the trail – there were competitive road cyclists training for an event later this year; there were people walking dogs and parents or grandparents pushing strollers. Some folks, like us, were on e-bikes while others were riding traditional bicycles and a few recumbent bikes. Many of us listened to the wind and birdsong and distant traffic, some wore headphones and others pumped up the volume, soaking their stretch of trail with music.

Every person’s journey was different.

In our gospel from Luke, we hear about the disciples’ journey with Jesus. It’s early days, and it’s challenging.

They get rejected by the Samaritans they meet along the way. Two other men talk to them, but those men aren’t yet ready to join Jesus and the disciples on their way.

Jesus makes a difficult statement, saying, “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.” (v.62)

It’s difficult because we often face choices between what is good and what is best. I don’t think Jesus would say that the men who chose to tend to their families and responsibilities were evil or even wrong. But he does not hesitate “to call a thing what it is”, and they did not choose to follow Jesus.

Like them, we have agency, or free will, and if we are to live as disciples, then we must follow Jesus with our whole lives and not in name alone.

Earlier this year when I taught a Bible study on the Psalms, one of the psalms was paired with the poem by Robert Frost called “The Road Not Taken” which ends with these words:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.[i]

A life of discipleship is a costly choice. And it is one that looks ahead, letting go of what holds us back, focusing on the work of relationship and life together that lies ahead.

As Jamie and I made our journey along the trail, we had to focus on what was ahead. Looking backwards on a moving bike is dangerous! It turns out that it isn’t the right posture in ministry either. When we can only see where we are, or where we have been, we cannot see “a vision of where God may have us go.”[ii]

In cycling, keeping your head up and your eyes ahead helps you maintain balance. In ministry, it keeps us from curving in on ourselves - the same deeply curved in posture of incurvatus in se that Martin Luther defines as the nature of sin.[iii]

But on our ride, our focus wasn’t all we had to attend to. There were road crossings, bridges and tunnels that changed the terrain we traveled and there were other trail users. We knew where we were going but there were still many unknowns to navigate.

In the gospel, Jesus tells us to keep looking forward. There will be challenges, there will be rough places and there will be difficulties, but we do not journey alone, nor are we unequipped. Jesus is with us and leading us.

Let us pray…

Holy God,

“You are my Lord; I have no good apart from you.” (Ps. 61:2)

Counsel me and instruct me. (Ps. 61:7)

Make my heart glad and my soul rejoice and let my body rest. (Ps. 61:9)

Show me the path of life and help me find fullness of joy in Your presence. (Ps. 61:11)

Amen.

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[i] https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44272/the-road-not-taken

[ii] Brian Stoffregen. Exegetical Notes on Luke 9:51-62.

[iii] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Incurvatus_in_se

Easter Day

Luke 24:1-12

Grace and peace to you from God our Father and our risen Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

The women who go to the tomb early that morning think they know what to expect. They think they know how death works. They expect to see Jesus’ body, wrapped in linen cloths. They expect to smell the dampness of the earthen tomb. They expect to touch Jesus, anointing his body (and expelling any noxious smells) with their burial spices.

Like the women who went to the tomb, our experience of our embodied, incarnate God is deepened through our senses.

Gathered here on Easter Sunday, we celebrate that we
see Jesus in the people around us;hear the sound of our voices raised in prayer and music;

recognize God’s presence in the scent of our shared breath, as we remember God’s Holy Spirit or ruach moves among us;
and feel God’s comforting touch in hands joined together in welcome and embrace.

The men who ask, “Why do you look for the living among the dead?” name the paradox – the incongruity – of what it means to know both God’s absence and presence.

There are times in our lives when we have nights like the one the women just had. After the crucifixion, living in the grief of Holy Saturday, and awaiting the new morning, they put one foot in front of the other, doing what they knew how to do, in the face of uncertainty and unknowing. When the darkness of the night seems unending, and it is difficult to imagine the sun will rise, sometimes all we can do is wait to see what dawn will bring.

Maybe it is the day you are told you won’t have a job tomorrow. Or you receive a life-changing diagnosis. Or you watch your child struggle with illness or addiction. Maybe it is a day when no one calls or speaks to you and the loneliness of a solitary life weighs you down.

In these Good Friday moments, it is easy to notice the absence of the divine. To cry out and wonder where God is. To despair. It can be challenging to know God’s presence when we are hurting, when we are grieving and when we are afraid.

But is in these same moments that, like the women do,

we are asked to remember.

Trying to make sense of the empty tomb early that first Easter morning, the men say to the women, “Remember how he told you…” and they do! They remember that Jesus had said he would be rejected and killed and then be raised on the third day. (Luke 9:22; 18:31)

Confident in the resurrection and God’s victory over death and the grave, we too are called to remember God’s words of promise and God’s saving action for us.

At this table eating the bread and drinking the wine, we remember:
Christ has died, Christ is risen and Christ will come again.

As we live our Easter lives, especially on this Easter morning, we are invited to experience the fullness of our incarnate God, to celebrate with joyful alleluias, glorious music and full-throated singing, to enjoy the sight of butterflies, to drink in the scent of flowers and to savor the taste of bread and wine that nourishes us in body and spirit.

Let us pray…
Holy God,
Thank you for your Son Jesus, who is risen from the grave.
Thank you for your love that soothes us when we are weary.
Empower us by your Spirit to reshape the world around us in faithful obedience to you, and in love for all of your creation.
Help us keep the feast that the whole world may be fed by your eternal grace.
Amen.

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.