Third Sunday of Easter

Luke 24:13-35
Acts 2:14, 36 - 41
1 Peter 1:17-23

For all of us who appreciate measured, linear timelines, 
consider this fair warning:
today’s texts suspend time. 
They also have us listening in on intimate conversations, 
hearing speeches 
and reading someone else’s mail. 
 
The gospel takes place on Easter evening, 
on the way to a village outside Jerusalem, 
before the resurrection appearances that we heard about last Sunday in John’s Gospel. 
For us today on the third Sunday of Easter, 
we need to re-locate ourselves in time, 
back to that first night, on the Day of Resurrection.
 

On that Easter evening, 
Jesus appears to two of his followers
who are walking along and talking 
about what they had heard and seen earlier in the day. 
When Jesus joins them, they don’t recognize him, 
but they’re friendly, and they talk with him.
 
What catches my attention first is that they speak with someone, 
whom they think is a stranger, about the day’s events. 
 
I wonder, why were they free to move about, 
to travel 
and to talk openly? 
when John tells us 
other disciples were hiding behind locked doors, 
afraid to be overheard or seen?
 
Luke tells us that as the two continue along their way, 
still oblivious to who Jesus is, 
he interprets the scriptures to them. 
 
I don’t know about you, but when I meet someone I don’t know, 
I ask questions, like
what’s your name? 
where are you from? 
who might we know in common? 
 
But if the two asked any questions, Luke doesn’t tell us. 
All Luke says is that they listen to Jesus teach, and 
they still don’t recognize him.
 
The two urge Jesus, who appears to plan to continue his journey, 
to stop and stay with them and they invite him to share their meal.
 
And it’s there, in the meal, 
as Jesus takes the bread, blesses it, breaks it and gives it to them, that at last, they recognize him.
 
As quickly as we learn that they know who Jesus is, 
Luke tells us he vanishes from them.
 
While we know that isn’t the end of the story, all Luke tells us today is that the two return to Jerusalem and testify to the other disciples, telling them what had happened.

 
The lectionary reading from Acts is part of Peter’s speech following the events of Pentecost, 
events we haven’t reached yet in our Easter season but, in short, Peter is addressing his fellow Jews and contrasting the human actions that crucified Christ and the divine actions by God that raised him from death. 
 
We hear members of the crowd interrupt Peter, 
asking him and the other apostles, 
“What should we do?”
 
While the two in Emmaus recognized Jesus as Lord in the meal that they shared, 
here in Jerusalem, 
it is as if the crowd’s ears are finally able to hear the truth, 
or perhaps, as in Paul’s story of conversion later in Acts, 
scales fall from their eyes, and they see clearly now that 
Jesus is Lord and Messiah. (see Acts 9:18)

 
The epistle we have for today is also attributed to Peter. In it, the author is writing to churches in Asia Minor – what is modern day Turkey - churches that were planted during Peter’s missionary journeys there. 

 
Like Paul’s letters, this letter would have been circulated among the faith communities there. Its message is that “Believers have reasons for hope… because Christ is raised and living, and God is at work in the world.” (“Summary of First Peter”, enterthebible.org, Luther Seminary) A little earlier in the letter, the author tells the churches to prepare for action, because of the grace Christ brings. (v. 13)
  
Throughout these Scriptures we hear Jesus is Lord and Messiah, 
and we hear how he is on the move.
 

The disciples in Emmaus, the crowds in Jerusalem and the churches in Asia Minor didn’t keep the Good News of the Risen Christ to themselves, or we wouldn’t be here today 
to celebrate that Jesus is risen and alive. 
 
In the same way, 
we are being called to testify to the ways God is still at work 
in the world through Christ, and through the Church,
and we are being called to follow Jesus into new places, 
and new ways of being community. 
 
Resurrection faith remembers what God has already done in Christ and sets our hope in God’s ongoing work in, through and among us, today and into the future.
 
Let us pray.
Holy God, 
Thank you for Jesus, our Lord and Messiah,
for his saving grace for each of us,
and for the ways he meets us where we are 
and urges us to new places, 
and new ways of being Your people.
Open our ears to hear Your Word and follow Jesus where he leads.
We pray in Jesus’ name.
Amen. 

Twenty-third Sunday after Pentecost

Luke 21:5-19 

I don’t know why, but I was surprised when I went to the grocery store last week and there were candy canes and Christmas decorations. Halloween was two weeks ago and seemingly overnight, while the trick or treaters were sprawled on the living room floors at home, trading for their favorite sweets,

the stores got ready for Christmas,

bypassing the whole month of November,

when the focus is on gratitude and giving thanks for the abundant life we have.

So, in today’s gospel, when I heard Jesus admonish his followers, “Beware that you are not led astray” I heard a warning, urging us not to get swept up in worldly distractions. Don’t get distracted by the bright lights, the tinsel and the ornaments; they’re beautiful and festive, but they are not our focus.  

Let’s remember where we are in Luke’s gospel. In the previous chapter, the religious leaders questioned Jesus’ authority and Jesus responded, calling out the teachers who “devour widows’ houses” (20:47).  

This chapter began with a scene where we witnessed a widow offering “all she had to live on” (21:4) And then Jesus rebuffed the Sadducees when they tried to trap him with a question about the resurrection.

Jesus has been telling his followers how the systems and institutions are imperfect and demonstrating how they exploit some of their most vulnerable neighbors, and still, here, in today’s gospel, when the disciples and he are outside the temple, they are gushing about its rich façade and splendor, impressed by the temple’s grandeur and outward appearance.

And instead of echoing their praise,

Jesus tells them it’s all about to fall and be destroyed.

We can imagine their shock and surprise.

Their panic.

The urgency they may have felt to stop what now appeared inevitable. 

Just as Jesus’ announcement may have prompted panic and urgency in his audience, today’s news and headlines often carry a “drumbeat of finality” that appears to demand an immediate response.[i]

It’s not a new experience.

Twentieth century theologian and author Howard Thurman told a story about Frederick Douglass and Sojourner Truth that went back to the early 1850s.[ii]

Frederick Douglass was born into slavery around 1818 in Maryland. He escaped in 1838 and eventually made his way to New York. He became a famous orator, writer and statesman.[iii]

Born into slavery in 1797 as Isabella Bomfree, Truth’s freedom was bought in 1827. By the early 1830s, she participated in the religious revivals that were sweeping the state and became a charismatic speaker. In 1843, she declared that the Spirit called on her to preach the truth, renaming herself Sojourner Truth.[iv]

A year after the Fugitive Slave Act of 1850 had emboldened slave catchers and abolitionists were filled with despair, Douglass addressed an antislavery meeting. He delivered a bleak and somber assessment and wondered aloud whether there was any hope left for justice. It was at this point that Sojourner Truth, sitting in the audience rose and called out,

“Frederick, is God gone?”[v]

I believe that, like Sojourner Truth in her question to Frederick Douglass, Jesus is calling us back to the center,

helping us focus on God’s kingdom among us,

on what God is doing in the world with us and through us.

Our world is hurting.

There are real problems that should concern us and that as Christians we are called to respond to with compassion and love.

But we do not despair.

Lutheran pastor Kendra Mohn writes,

There is really no such thing as getting through unscathed. The question is how people of faith are to respond, and where we find our refuge.[vi]

In his essay titled “Every Day is not the Last Day”, pastor and executive director of The Ministry Collaborative, Mark Ramsey asks the question we wrestle with in tumultuous times:

How do faith communities hold both urgency and patience, responding to real crises without succumbing to perpetual crisis mode?[vii]

Jesus says that the temple’s destruction and all that will come before and after, will give the people “an opportunity to testify.” (v. 15) The word “testimony” means telling what we have seen.

It is bearing witness to our experience.

And before we can express our doubts about our eloquence or whether our words will matter, Jesus also says,

“I will give you words and a wisdom” (v. 16)

In these circumstances, our testimony will be inspired or given to us by God.

Remember that Luke’s gospel was written after the actual fall of the temple, so rather than hearing these words as harbingers of what is coming, Jesus is saying these things to help us understand what has happened, to make meaning of things that seem to defy reason and understanding.

Wesleyan minister Patrick Oden writes:

The destruction was not evidence of God’s rejection and disfavor. Rather, it was the fulfillment of God’s plan… What might bring terror should result instead in trust: Jesus said these things would happen.[viii]

That is Good News!

Martin Luther is often quoted as saying, “Even if I knew the world were going to end tomorrow, I would still plant an apple tree today.” Although the words haven’t been found in his writings or those of his peers, they nonetheless bear witness to the hopefulness that endures in our faith.

Ramsey, again, encourages us to “[act] with steady confidence that tomorrow is coming, and it will need faithful people who built wisely today.”[ix]

I wonder, how God might be inviting you to hope, beyond what your eyes see?

How will you give testimony or bear witness to God’s transforming presence and love in your life?

Even as we recognize challenges in our congregation, community and world, we also have opportunities to respond with compassion and love.

To have a holy imagination for what God is doing in our lives and through our words and actions.

And to sustain our hope because even when the news is bad, or things feel like they are falling apart,

God’s steadfast love for us will not go away.

Thanks be to God.

[i] Mark Ramsey, The Ministry Collective.

[ii] ibid

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

[iv] https://www.womenshistory.org/education-resources/biographies/sojourner-truth

[v] Ramsey, ibid.

[vi] Kendra A. Mohn, workingpreacher.org

[vii] Ramsey, ibid.

[viii] Patrick Oden. Connections: A Lectionary Commentary Series. Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2019.

[ix] Ramsey, ibid.

Vigésimo Segundo Domingo despues de Pentecostés

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

Lucas 20:27-38

Oremos… Que las palabras de mi boca y las meditaciones de nuestros corazones sean agradables a tus ojos, Señor, nuestra fortaleza y nuestro redentor. Amén.

Leyendo el evangelio de hoy, tan pronto después de la temporada de Halloween, con casas embrujadas y sustos, me dan ganas de gritar:

“¡Es una trampa!”,

para advertir a Jesús que se aleje de los saduceos.

Los saduceos eran líderes religiosos que se aferraban a la Torá —los primeros cinco libros de la Biblia— y no creían en la resurrección. Sin embargo, aquí le preguntan a Jesús sobre la resurrección.

No están haciendo preguntas porque quieran aprender de él; en realidad, le preguntan para tenderle una trampa y que diga algo con lo que puedan contradecirlo y desacreditarlo.

Cuando Martín Lutero escribió su catecismo, solía presentar una idea y luego preguntaba: “¿Qué significa esto?”. Eso es lo que hace Jesús aquí. Básicamente les dice a los saduceos: “Muy bien, si quieren hablar de la resurrección, esto es lo que significa”.

Jesús no cae en su trampa. En cambio, utiliza una historia del Éxodo,

de la Torá,

de las Escrituras que los saduceos afirman como autoridad.

Jesús les recuerda que cuando Moisés se encontró con la zarza ardiente, oyó la voz de Dios, y Dios dijo: “Yo soy el Dios de tu padre, el Dios de Abraham, el Dios de Isaac y el Dios de Jacob” (Éxodo 3:6). En el evangelio, Jesús argumenta que Dios no habría incluido a Abraham, Isaac y Jacob, todos muertos, a menos que estuvieran vivos para Dios (Stoffregen). Nuestra lectura termina con Jesús diciendo: “Él no es Dios de muertos, sino de vivos, porque para él todos viven” (20:38).

La promesa de la resurrección es que resucitaremos a una nueva vida en Cristo después de la muerte. Será una plenitud de vida que no podemos comprender con términos o ideas terrenales, lo cual es una de las razones por las que la pregunta que le hicieron a Jesús es tan absurda.

Al leer el Evangelio tan pronto después del fin de semana pasado, con motivo del Día de Todos los Santos, el Día de los Fieles Difuntos y el Día de los Muertos, soy muy consciente del vínculo especial que existe entre nuestras vidas y las de nuestros seres queridos que nos precedieron. Estos vínculos especiales son aquellos lugares donde podemos reconocer con mayor facilidad lo sagrado en nuestras vidas. A veces son lugares físicos, como la comunidad de Iona en Escocia, o un laberinto de oración. Pero creo que otras veces son momentos, lugares en el tiempo, como hoy, que celebramos el bautizo de Isael Andrés Solano.

Hoy estamos reunidos con todos los santos, incluyendo a su abuela Ana y a su bisabuelo Salatiel.

Esa es una de las imágenes que más valor del Día de los Muertos: que los santos de todos los tiempos anteriores están reunidos con nosotros. Juntos celebramos el don de la fe que Isael recibe de Dios, y nos regocijamos de que su fe, sembrada por sus antepasados, crezca aquí en nuestra comunidad, con sus padres, padrinos, familia, amigos y la Iglesia.

Al hacer promesas a Isael, a Josué y a Lilliana, reafirmamos nuestro compromiso de ser una comunidad que da vida, donde la fe está viva y se manifiesta en el amor.

¡Gracias a Dios!

Luke 20:27-38

Reading today’s gospel so soon after “spooky season” with haunted houses and scary tricks, I want to scream, “It’s a trap!”,

to warn Jesus away from the Sadducees.

The Sadducees were religious leaders who adhered to the Torah – the first five books of the Bible – and did not believe in the resurrection. And yet, here, they ask Jesus a question about the resurrection.

They aren’t asking questions because they want to learn from him; instead, they are asking trying to trap Jesus into saying something so they can disagree with him and discredit him.

When Martin Luther wrote his catechism, he would introduce an idea and then he would ask, “What does this mean?” That’s what Jesus does here. Basically he says to the Sadducees, “Okay, if you want to talk about the resurrection, this is what it means.”

Jesus doesn’t fall into their trap. Instead, he uses a story from Exodus,

from the Torah,

from the Scripture the Sadducees affirm.

Jesus reminds them that when Moses encountered the burning bush, he heard God speak, and God said, “I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.” (Exodus 3:6) In the gospel, Jesus argues that God wouldn’t have included Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, all of whom had died, unless they were alive to God. (Stoffregen) Our reading ends with Jesus saying, “he is God not of the dead but of the living, for to him all of them are alive.” (20:38)

The resurrection promise is that we will be raised to new life in Christ after death. It will be a fullness of life that we cannot understand in earthly terms or ideas, which is one of the reasons why the question asked of Jesus is so absurd.

Reading the gospel so soon after last weekend’s All Saints Day, All Souls Day and Día de los Muertos, I am keenly aware of the “thin place” between our lives and the beloved people who lived before us. Thin places are those places where we can more readily recognize the holy in our lives. Sometimes they are physical places, like the community of Iona in Scotland, or a prayer labyrinth. But I think other times they are moments, places in time, like today, when we are celebrating the baptism of Isael Andres Solano.

Today, we are gathered with all the saints, including his grandmother Ana and his great-grandfather Salatiel. That is one of the images I cherish from Día de los Muertos; that the saints from all the times before us are gathered with us. Together we celebrate the gift of faith that Isael is receiving from God, and we rejoice that his faith, planted by his ancestors, will be nurtured here in our community, with his parents, godparents, family and friends and the church.

As we make promises to Isael and to Josue and Lilliana, we are affirming our commitment to be a life-giving community where faith is alive and active in love.

Thanks be to God.

Decimosexto Domingo despues de Pentecostés

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

Lucas 16:19-31

Oremos…Que las palabras de mi boca y la meditación de nuestro corazón sean gratas ante ti, Señor, fortaleza y redentor nuestro. Amén.

Pensando esta semana, en lo que nos dice esta parábola, me encontré con una caricatura que muestra a un ángel sonriente con túnica y a un hombre de pie sobre las nubes, mirando un ascensor claramente marcado con "arriba hacia al cielo" y "abajo hacia al infierno" y el hombre dice: "De alguna manera pensé que sería algo diferente".ⁱ

La parábola comienza con un hombre rico, más rico de lo que nadie puede imaginar, vestido de púrpura y lino fino, que festeja con suntuosidad y extravagancia todos los días, no solo en Shabat o en días santos. En mi imaginación, me imagino a Midas, recordado en la mitología griega por su capacidad de convertir en oro todo lo que tocaba.

Y luego Jesús nos habla de un segundo hombre, un hombre pobre que fue colocado en la puerta del hombre rico, a la entrada de su propiedad. En otras traducciones, a este hombre se le llama limosnero. Dependía de la ayuda de sus vecinos y de la comunidad, pero nunca oímos que recibiera ayuda del rico ni de nadie más.

Lo único que se nos dice de él es que tiene llagas que los perros lamen, y se nos dice su nombre. Se llama Lázaro, del hebreo el azar, que significa "Dios ha ayudado".

Las interpretaciones populares de esta parábola suelen añadir detalles que no forman parte de la historia. No se dice nada sobre la pureza ritual ni sobre la impureza. No se dice nada sobre el comportamiento de ninguno de los dos hombres. No se dice nada sobre la piedad, la religiosidad, la fe, la creencia ni la rectitud de ninguno de los dos. Son simplemente dos hombres: uno rico y bien alimentado, el otro pobre y hambriento.

Sin embargo, sabemos por las Escrituras que para los judíos observantes de la Torá, y para los cristianos en general, el mandato bíblico de cuidar a los pobres es claro.

• En Deuteronomio capitulo quince se instruye al pueblo: “Abre tu mano al pobre y al necesitado de tu tierra”. ⁱⁱ

• En la literatura sapiencial, Proverbios dice: “Quienes desprecian a su prójimo son pecadores, pero felices son los que son bondadosos con los pobres”. ⁱⁱⁱ y “² El rico y el pobre tienen esto en común: el Señor es el creador de todos ”. ^iv

• Y los profetas también aportan su granito de arena: Isaías le dice al pueblo: “Comparte tu pan con el hambriento y lleva a tu casa a los pobres sin hogar”. ^v Y Zacarías nos instruye: “Muestren bondad y misericordia los unos con los otros; ¹⁰ no opriman a la viuda, al huérfano, al extranjero ni al pobre”. ^vi

Al escuchar esta parábola, nos preguntamos: ¿Por qué el hombre rico ignoraría a Lázaro? Quizás se sentía impotente para ayudar o temía que se aprovecharan de él. Sin embargo, al reconocer nuestra condición humana, parece probable que nunca viera a Lázaro como su responsabilidad; o no le importaba lo que le sucediera o estaba ciego al sufrimiento que tenía frente a él, y ni siquiera vio al pobre.

Nuestro desconcierto dura poco.

En los versículos siguientes se nos dice que cada hombre muere y llega a habitar el Hades, que se traduce literalmente como el "lugar que no se ve". Irónicamente, Lázaro, quien no fue visto en vida, sí  es visto alli.

Hades, infierno, Seol o Gehenna se usan en las Escrituras para describir el lugar de los muertos. Las descripciones que tenemos no son literales ni geográficas, y nuestra comprensión del cielo y el infierno ha cambiado a lo largo del tiempo.

Los antiguos israelitas creían en un mundo de tres niveles donde el cielo estaba arriba y los muertos iban a un inframundo moralmente neutral abajo. No fue hasta el siglo IV (cuarto) que los judíos adoptaron la visión helenística del cielo como lugar para los salvos y el infierno como lugar para los condenados. Muchas de las imágenes familiares y gráficas del infierno que hoy reconocemos se originaron en el poema épico del siglo decimocuarto de Dante, la Divina Comedia, y en las pinturas del Juicio Final de los siglos decimoquinto y decimosexto, y estas imágenes persisten en la cultura popular actual.

Esta parábola describe un lugar completamente diferente “donde los salvos y los condenados podían verse”.^viii

Cuando el hombre rico clama, es evidente que lo único que ha cambiado es su ubicación. Su forma de pensar es la misma que tenia en vida.

Aunque ahora ve a Lázaro, e incluso sabe su nombre, sigue diferenciando como un “otro” a Lázaro, hablando sobre él, en lugar de hablarle directamente. El hombre rico primero le pide a Abraham que envíe a Lázaro a traerle agua. Y cuando eso falla, le pide que envíe a Lázaro a sus cinco hermanos para que se les evite el tormento que él está experimentando. Permanece ciego a la verdad de que él y Lázaro son ambos hijos de Abraham, hermanos ante los ojos de Dios.

Incluso cuando Abraham le dice al hombre rico que hay un abismo que puede ser cruzado, no ve su propia complicidad en su destino. Su propia ignorancia y falta de compasión excavaron ese abismo; es el mismo abismo que usó en vida para separarse de los pobres y los que sufrían. Es tan profundo como sus miedos y desprecio, su egoísmo y desprecio. Ahora, como escribe la teóloga Amy-Jill Levine, "pasará la eternidad viendo lo que no puede tener".^x

— una plenitud que solo es posible en la vida con Dios, como parte del reino.

Esta parábola nos recuerda que “Dios no se rige por nuestras reglas”. ^xi Cuando nos encontremos con el reino de Dios, será diferente de lo que imaginamos, así como Dios está más allá de nuestro conocimiento y comprensión actual. Lo que sabemos en este momento, y lo que nos enseñan la ley y los profetas, es que tenemos la responsabilidad de derramar la misericordia y la compasión de Dios aquí y ahora.

Oremos…

Dios del cielo y de la tierra,
Gracias por tu misericordia y gracia que nos hace tus hijos y herederos de tu reino.
Enséñanos a ver a las personas con tus ojos y a amarlas como tú las amas.
Haznos compasivos y generosos al salir al mundo a compartir la Buenas Nuevas de tu abundante amor.
Oramos en el nombre de Jesús, nuestro Señor y Salvador.
Amén.

i Werner Wejp-Olsen. https://www.cartoonstock.com/directory/o/otis.asp, accessed 9/28/2019.
ⁱⁱ Deuteronomy 15:11
ⁱⁱⁱ Proverbs 14:21
^iv Proverbs 22:1-2
^v Isaiah 58:7
^vi Zechariah 7:9-10
^vii https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Biblical_cosmology, accessed 9/26/2019.
^viii Amy-Jill Levine. Short Stories by Jesus. 286.
^vix Levine, 288.
^x Levine. 289.
^xi Levine, 300.

Luke 16:19-31

Thinking this week about what this parable says to us, I came across a cartoon that shows a smiling robed angel and a man standing on clouds, looking at an elevator clearly marked “up for heaven “and “down for hell” and the man is saying, “Somehow I thought it would be somewhat different.”[i]

The parable begins with a rich man who is richer than anyone can imagine, clothed in “purple and fine linen” and feasting sumptuously or extravagantly every day, not just at Shabbat or on high holy days. In my imagination, I picture Midas who is remembered in Greek mythology for his ability to turn everything he touched into gold.

And then Jesus tells us about a second man, a poor man who was laid at the gate of the rich man, at the entrance to his property. In other translations, this man is called a beggar. He was dependent on help from neighbors and community, but we never hear that he received any help from the rich man or anyone else.

All we are told about him is that he has sores that the dogs lick, and we are told his name. He is named Lazarus from the Hebrew el azar which means “God has helped.”

Popular interpretations of this parable often add things that aren’t part of the story. Nothing is said about ritual purity and uncleanliness. Nothing is said about either man’s demeanor. Nothing is said about either man’s piety or religiosity, faith or belief, or righteousness. They’re just two men, one rich and well-fed, one poor and hungry.

However, we know from Scripture that for Torah-observant Jews, and for Christians for that matter, the biblical mandate to care for the poor is clear.

·    In Deuteronomy 15 the people are instructed, “"Open your hand to the poor and needy neighbor in your land."[ii]

·    In wisdom literature, Proverbs says, “Those who despise their neighbors are sinners, but happy are those who are kind to the poor.[iii] and “² The rich and the poor have this in common: the LORD is the maker of them all.”[iv]

·    And the prophets add their two cents, too: Isaiah tells the people, “share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house;[v] and Zechariah instructs us, “show kindness and mercy to one another; ¹⁰ do not oppress the widow, the orphan, the alien, or the poor;”[vi]

Hearing this parable, we wonder, Why would the rich man ignore Lazarus? Maybe he felt powerless to help, or anxious that he would be taken advantage of. Recognizing our human condition though, it seems as likely that he never saw Lazarus as his responsibility; he either didn’t care what happened to the man or he was blind to the suffering right in front of him, and never even saw the poor man.

Our bewilderment is short-lived.

In the verses that follow we’re told each man dies and come to inhabit Hades, which translates literally as the “unseen place.” Ironically, Lazarus, who was not seen in life, is seen there.

Hades, hell, Sheol or Gehenna are all used in Scripture to describe the place of the dead. The descriptions we have aren’t literal or geographical and our understanding of heaven and hell has changed throughout time. Ancient Israelites believed in a three-tiered world where heaven was above and the dead went to a morally neutral underworld below. It wasn’t until the fourth century that Jews adopted the Hellenistic view of heaven as a place for the saved and hell as a place for the damned.[vii] Many of the familiar and graphic images of hell we might recognize today originated with Dante’s fourteenth century epic poem Divine Comedy and 15^th and 16^th century paintings of the Last Judgment and these images persist in popular culture today.

This parable describes a completely different place “where the saved and the damned could see each other.”[viii]

When the rich man cries out, it’s clear that the only thing that has changed is his location. His way of thinking is the same as it was in life. While he now sees Lazarus, and even knows his name, he still “others” him, speaking about him, instead of speaking directly to him. The rich man first asks Abraham to send Lazarus to bring him water. And when that fails, he asks him to send Lazarus to his five brothers so that they might be spared the torment that he’s experiencing. He remains blind to the truth that he and Lazarus are both children of Abraham, brothers in God’s sight. [ix]

Even when Abraham tells the rich man there is a chasm that cannot be bridged, he fails to see his own complicity in his fate. His own ignorance and lack of compassion carved out that chasm; it is the same chasm he used in life to separate himself from the poor and the suffering. It is as deep as his fears and disdain, his selfishness and contempt. Now, as theologian Amy-Jill Levine writes, “he will spend eternity seeing what he cannot have”[x] — a wholeness that is only possible in life with God, as part of the kingdom.

This parable reminds us that “God does not play by our rules.”[xi] When we encounter God’s kingdom, it’s going to be different than we imagine, just as God is beyond our knowledge and understanding now. What we know, right now, and what we are taught in the law and by the prophets, is that we have the responsibility to pour out God’s mercy and compassion here and now.

Let us pray…

God of heaven and earth,

Thank you for your mercy and grace that make us Your children and heirs to Your kingdom.

Teach us to see people through Your eyes and to love them as You love them.

Make us compassionate and generous as we go out into the world to share the Good News of your abundant love.

We pray in the name of Jesus, our Lord and Savior.

Amen.

---

[i] Werner Wejp-Olsen. https://www.cartoonstock.com/directory/o/otis.asp, accessed 9/28/2019.

[ii] Deuteronomy 15:11

[iii] Proverbs 14:21

[iv] Proverbs 22:1-2

[v] Isaiah 58:7

[vi] Zechariah 7:9-10

[vii] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Biblical_cosmology, accessed 9/26/2019.

[viii] Amy-Jill Levine. Short Stories by Jesus. 286.

[ix] Levine, 288.

[x] Levine. 289.

[xi] Levine, 300.

Fifteenth Sunday after Pentecost

Luke 16:1-13

Sometimes, when we listen to Jesus teach in parables we hear a clear command:
“Go and do likewise.”

Today isn’t one of those times. While the parable we hear in Luke’s gospel leaves us with a lot of questions, I can confidently say that Jesus doesn’t want us to loan money and charge outrageous interest, steal from our employers, or manipulate others so that they will be indebted to us.

So, we’re left with confusion about why Jesus tells us this parable at all.

The best explanation I have heard is one offered by Julian DeShazier (Dee-Shah-Zee-Ay), a pastor and faculty member at McCormick Theological Seminary in Chicago. He thinks that “[Jesus] is talking to two different audiences.”[i]

This conversation follows his telling of the parable of the lost things that we heard last week and the parable of the prodigal son.

Jesus is talking to his disciples, but we know they are also surrounded by all these other people who Luke tells us are tax collectors, sinners, Pharisees and scribes. (15:1-2) So “Jesus talks to the crowd, pauses, talks to his disciples, and then talks to the crowd again.”[ii]

A few weeks ago, when my daughter got married in Boston, the ceremony was in the Boston Public Garden. There were about thirty of us at the wedding, but it was a large public park so there were also a number of people on the periphery of where the ceremony took place. People we didn’t know. But they could hear and see everything that was happening.

That’s seems to be what’s happening here. Jesus has two audiences.

This parable isn’t about imparting a life lesson or teaching good behavior.

Instead, I think Jesus tells the people in the crowd who have made dishonest gains or treated others unfairly to change their behavior and redeem themselves.

I think he is challenging all of his followers to see the abundant gifts God has entrusted us with and ask how we can be good stewards.

What does it look like for us to be found trustworthy with what we have been given?

We shouldn’t underestimate the wealth we’ve been given.

The true riches we have are

our very lives, lived in response to God’s love.

We have boundless grace from God and forgiveness for our sin.

We have an inheritance with Jesus as children of God.

And, we are entrusted with the Good News of God’s love and empowered by the Holy Spirit to share that Good News with others.

That is wealth that cannot be measured in dollars and cents.

But we, especially here at Grace Lutheran Church,
are also stewards of wealth that can be measured in dollars and cents.

This week I sat in with board members from the Grace Foundation as they evaluated funding requests and made decisions about the grants to distribute later this year. There is more than $120,000 available for grants and scholarships because the foundation has been a good steward of what they’ve been given.

And recently, Deacon Kimberly has been in meetings with social ministry as they make budget recommendations for next year, deciding which ministry partnerships to continue and where investment is needed most. This year, they gave nearly $60,000 in support for our neighbors, including helping address housing and food insecurity, and care for our children and vulnerable neighbors.

Individually, in the stewardship mailing that may have already arrived in your mailbox, and that Jen Heilemann from the stewardship team described in this morning’s ministry moment, each of us here is also being asked, “How will you respond to God’s abundance?”

One aspect of your stewardship is financial giving. As a former fundraiser, I am not going to shy away from asking you to invest financially in Grace’s ministry and mission for the coming year. Not as something you “have to do” but as something you “get to do.” In our partnership together, you have an opportunity to see God’s love in action through our work as the Church and experience the joy of seeing God’s love transform our world.

Another aspect of your stewardship is your relationship with God, so we ask how you will respond to the invitation to grow deeper spiritually. Maybe you will take time to be quiet and study or read, listening for God’s voice, or to get loud and sing, celebrating all God has given us.

And thirdly, we invite you to reflect on your service in the congregation and community. What does love in action look like for you?

One of the joys I have where I sit is getting to see all the people from Grace who are involved in the community apart from Grace’s initiatives. Independently from Servant Saturday, food drives and the other opportunities we provide, many of you are connected to our ministry partners because you have responded to their needs with your time, skills and knowledge. In the many ways that you are God’s hands and feet in the world, you are being stewards of all that God has given you.

We are all stewards of what we have been given in abundance by God, and God calls us to be faithful and trustworthy in matters large and small.

May it be so in our community.

Amen.

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[i] Julian DeShazier . “Living by the Word”, Christian Century, August 27, 2019.

[ii] ibid

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