Christ the King Sunday (Domingo de Cristo El Rey)

Mateo 25:31-46

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

Oremos…
Que las palabras de mi boca y las meditaciones de nuestros corazones sean aceptables a tu vista, oh Señor nuestra fuerza y nuestro redentor. Amén.

En el Evangelio de hoy, escuchamos sobre ovejas y cabras y si fuera agricultor, tal vez tendría más información sobre lo que separa a las dos. Pero no soy agricultor. Y no creo que Jesús hable sobre ovejas y cabras porque quiere que nos convertamos en expertos sobre animales de granja. Entonces, en lugar de pensar demasiado sobre las diferencias entre las dos, dirigí mi atención a cómo los dos grupos son iguales.

Cuando el rey le dice a cada grupo lo que habían hecho, no hay argumento ni protesta. Es preciso. Saben lo que hicieron, o en el caso del segundo grupo, lo que no hicieron. Pero ambos grupos preguntan: "¿Cuándo fue que te vimos?"

A medida que pasamos por la vida, ¿con qué frecuencia nos sorprenderíamos también nosotros si nos dijeran que Dios hubiera estado allí con nosotros?

Declaramos rápidamente que todo en la creación pertenece a Dios, pero a menudo, en la práctica, respondemos como si Dios fuera un relojero divino, poniendo las cosas en movimiento y observando desde la distancia, en algún lugar en los altos cielos.

Acabo de terminar de leer la historia de los niños "El Jardín Secreto " que cuenta la historia de una niña que es enviada a vivir con un tío en Inglaterra y mientras vive en la gran casa grande, descubre dos secretos. El primero es un jardín que había sido abandonado, y el segundo es un niño, su primo, que también había sido abandonado. La madre del niño había muerto cuando era muy joven, y su padre había sido abrumado por el dolor y el miedo y lo abandonó al cuidado de los demás.

Creo que a veces pensamos en Dios así, como un Padre distante o ausente, y olvidamos que Dios está con nosotros todos los días.

Pero, en nuestras vidas de fe, estamos en relación con Dios, y las demandas de la relación aparecen. Requiere presencia.

Afortunadamente, hay un final feliz para la historia de los niños, y tenemos una feliz confianza de que Dios tampoco nos abandona.

La segunda forma en que los dos grupos son los mismos es que ninguno pensó mucho en cómo habían tratado a las personas a su alrededor.

Solo podemos adivinar por qué un grupo eligió alimentar a los hambrientos, calmar la sed del sediento, dio la bienvenida al extranjero, vestía a los desnudos, atendió a los enfermos o visitó al prisionero.

Una interpretación esperanzadora es que el primer grupo estaba haciendo lo que era natural para ellos, como un árbol que tiene buenas frutas. No se les ocurrió examinar por qué hicieron lo que hicieron.

Y de la misma manera, solo podemos adivinar por qué el segundo grupo decidió no cuidar a sus vecinos. Recuerdo la idea de "pecados de comisión" y "pecados de omisión" y nuestro rito de confesión donde confesamos "hemos pecado contra [Dios] por lo que hemos hecho y por lo que hemos dejado de hacer". Uno podría adivinar que realmente no vieron a las personas o sus necesidades.

Martin Luther describió a nuestro estado como pecadores diciendo que "[el hombre] está tan curvado sobre sí mismo que usa no solo bienes físicos sino incluso espirituales para sus propios beneficios y en todas las cosas busca solo a sí mismo".

No es extraño que en esa condición luchemos por ver a otros o reconocer sus necesidades.

"El mas pequeño de estos" (v.45) son aquellos a quienes ignoramos, pasamos por alto o incluso rechazamos.

Si bien esperamos ver de inmediato a nuestros vecinos como hijos queridos de Dios, confesamos que a veces no lo hacemos. Las palabras de Jesús ayudan a dirigir nuestra atención hacia ellos y abrir nuestros ojos para ver a Jesús en ellos. Cuando entramos en una relación con nuestros projimos, comenzamos a presentarnos el uno al otro. Y es en la comunidad y la relación, que aprendemos las historias de los demás y reconocemos las necesidades que existen.

Y así, en lugar de sorprendernos, podemos preguntarle a Dios: "¿Cuándo fue que te vimos?" con curiosidad y asombro,confiando en que hemos visto a Dios en los rostros de los que conocemos.

Hemos visto a Dios en la mujer llevando de una maleta con todo lo que posee por la calle helada en Fleming Street y en el hombre que sostiene su letrero de cartón cerca de la carretera interestatal. Hemos visto a Dios en las salas de espera en el hospital y en el centro de detención. Hemos visto a Dios en los rostros de las personas que reciben paquetes de ropas nuevas en los centros de hospitalidad para los refugiados. Hemos visto a Dios en los projimos que recibirán nuevos abrigos de invierno y las bendiciones en cajas esta Navidad.

Al entrar en las próximas temporadas de Adviento y Navidad, que veamos y preguntemos dónde más, y en quién, podemos ver a Dios.

Amén.

Matthew 25:31-46

In today’s gospel, we hear about sheep and goats and if I were a farmer, maybe I’d have more insight into what separates the two. But I am not a farmer. And I don’t think that Jesus talks about sheep and goats because he wants us to become experts about farm animals. So instead of thinking too much about the differences between the two, I turned my attention to how the two groups are the same.

When the king tells each group what they had done, there’s no argument or protest. He’s accurate. They know what they did, or in the case of the second group, what they did not do. But both groups ask, “When was it that we saw you?”

As we go through life, how often would we, too, be caught by surprise if we were told God had been there with us?

We are quick to declare that everything in creation belongs to God, but often, in practice, we respond as if God were a divine clockmaker, setting things into motion and watching from a distance, somewhere in the lofty heavens.

I just finished reading the children’s story “The Secret Garden” that tells the story of a girl who is sent to live with an uncle in England and while she is living in the great big house, she discovers two secrets. The first is a garden that had been deserted, and the second is a boy, her cousin, who had been deserted, as well. The boy’s mother had died when he was very young, and his father had been overwhelmed by grief and fear and abandoned him to the care of others.

I think sometimes we think of God like that, as an aloof or absent father, and we forget that God is with us every day.

But, in our lives of faith, we are in relationship with God, and relationship demands showing up. It requires presence.

Thankfully, there is a happy ending to the children’s story, and we have a happy confidence that God does not abandon us either.

The second way the two groups are the same is that neither gave much thought to how they had treated the people around them.

We can only guess why one group chose to feed the hungry, quench the thirst of the parched, welcomed the stranger, clothed the naked, tended the sick or visited the prisoner. A hopeful interpretation is that the first group was doing what came naturally to them, like a tree bearing good fruit. It didn’t occur to them to examine why they did what they did.

And likewise, we can only guess why the second group chose not to care for their neighbors. I am reminded of the idea of “sins of commission” and “sins of omission” and our rite of confession where we confess “we have sinned against [God] by what we have done and by what we have left undone.” One might guess that they didn’t really see the people or their needs.

Martin Luther described our state as sinners saying that “[man is] so curved in upon himself that he uses not only physical but even spiritual goods for his own purposes and in all things seeks only himself.”[i] It is no wonder that in that state we struggle to see others or recognize their needs.

“The least of these” (v.45) are those who we disregard, overlook or even dismiss.

While we hope we would immediately see our neighbors as beloved children of God, we confess sometimes we don’t. Jesus’ words help direct our attention to them and open our eyes to see Jesus in them. When we enter into relationship with our neighbors, we begin to show up for each other. And it is in community and relationship, that we learn each other’s stories and recognize the needs that exist.

And so, instead of being surprised, we can ask God, “When was it that we saw you?” with curiosity and wonder, trusting that we have seen God in the faces of those we meet.

We have seen God in the woman pulling a suitcase with all that she owns down the frosty sidewalk on Fleming Street and in the man holding his cardboard sign on the median near the interstate. We have seen God in the waiting rooms at the hospital and at the detention center. We have seen God in the faces of the people receiving Fresh Change bundles at hospitality centers for refugees. We have seen God in the neighbors who will receive new winter coats and the blessings in boxes this Christmas.

As we enter into the coming Advent and Christmas seasons, may we watch and wonder where else, and in whom, we may see God.

Amen.

[i] Luther’s Works, vol. 25, p. 345, see also pp. 291-92.

Lectionary 33A

Matthew 25:14-30

Remembering that God is always the actor in Scripture, we read Matthew’s text and ask, “What does this parable tell us about God?”

I don’t think it works as allegory. It falls apart if the Master is God because the one slave describes this Master as “a harsh man, reaping where he does not sow and gathering where he does not scatter seed.” (v. 24). Maybe that could be dismissed as the slave’s perception or misperception, but, upon his return, this Master rebukes the slave and orders him “thrown into the outer darkness.” (v. 30)

The first problem we have with identifying the Master of the parable as God is that everything in creation, and everything we reap, belongs to our Creator God.

And the second problem is that just a few chapters later, Jesus promises his disciples, “I am with you always, to the end of the age.” (28:20) And later still, we have Paul, too, who teaches that “[nothing] in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 8:38-39)

So, if it’s not allegory, I wonder, why does Jesus tell this story?

I wonder if Jesus tells this parable because he knows how often we look at what we have been given through a lens of scarcity and fear, instead of abundance. And he wants to remind us of the vision God has for God’s kingdom.

The first two slaves take what is given to them and they find ways to increase the extravagant abundance. But the third slave buries what he was given, refusing to do anything with it. He is filled with fear.

This month, I have been spending time with Psalm 5 and particularly with a paraphrase written by Nan Merrill in her volume titled Psalms for Praying. Her words came back to me as I read the parable. She writes,

Lead me, O my Beloved,

in your mercy lighten my fears;

make my way straight before me that I may follow.

For there is no truth in fear; it leads to downfall;

it opens the door to loneliness; it speaks not with integrity,

but out of ignorance.

“There is no truth in fear.”

Merrill says fear speaks out of ignorance and not out of integrity. I’d add that fear squelches imagination, compassion and ultimately, mercy.

If you haven’t been at the Wednesday night Oasis this past two weeks, you’ve missed Pastor Jonathan’s introduction to Dietrich Bonhoeffer and his writings.

You can listen to the podcast episodes on Ground Up Faith, but to summarize, Bonhoeffer was a German Lutheran theologian and teacher in the 1930s, as Hitler was rising in power. He criticized Hitler, which as you can probably guess, isn’t the way to gain a dictator’s favor. In 1930 Bonhoeffer came to the United States, but he returned to Germany in 1931 and continued his opposition to Hitler and Nazi power. He became a professor in the underground seminary, training pastors for the confessing church. And in 1938 he traveled again to the United States and relative safety, but almost immediately, he returned to Germany.

Returning to Nazi Germany, Bonhoeffer said,

 

I must live through this difficult period in our national history along with the people of Germany. I will have no right to participate in the reconstruction of Christian life in Germany after the war if I do not share the trials of this time with my people…

I wanted to retell that piece of Bonhoeffer’s story because today's gospel is a parable that invites our response.

Both Pastor Jonathan and I have spoken often of faith as something we live out in community. It is never a solitary, private thing that’s only about me, my Bible and Jesus. 

When we are living out our faith, and we respond in fear, we take the gifts that God has given us, we take the ways God has equipped us to bear God’s love to our neighbors and we bury them.

Surely, we think, it is safer to do nothing, to hold onto what we have and wait. Nothing will be gained, but nothing will be lost either.

Except it will. Our complacency – our failure to imagine a different future and our failure to act with compassion – exacts a cost from everyone who needs mercy right now.

For the beloved people who need to know the extravagant love of our generous and life-giving God, it costs them hope. It costs them love. It costs them faith. 

I’m not saying that God can’t still act. Surely, God can and does.

And I’m not saying that faith comes from us. It is in Christ alone.

But God uses us, the Church, to show the world who God is. God uses our hands and feet and hearts to bear witness to God’s love.

And when we allow fear to paralyze us and choose safety and security over compassion and mercy, we reject the gifts God has entrusted to us for the sake of the world. We reject the invitation to participate in God’s kingdom and make that kingdom a reality here on earth.

Our fear curves us in on ourselves – turning away from the opportunities to show others how God so loves the world – and it’s that curving in on ourselves that Luther calls sin,
sin that separates us from God.

And what’s astonishing to me is that when we sin,

God doesn’t call us worthless and throw us into the outer darkness.

Do you know what God does?

In that same paraphrase of Psalm 5, Merrill writes, “tears from your Heart fall on those separated from You by fear.”

When God sees what we have done, God weeps.

The God who sees his Son Jesus crucified weeps for us and continues to call us beloved children of God and entrust kingdom work to us, calling us to respond faithfully with compassion and mercy.

Let us pray…

Good and gracious God,

Thank you for showing us how much you so love the world.

You wept for your crucified Son,

and you weep for us when we turn away from you.

Draw us to You, confident in your love.

Help us live out our faith in words and actions that reflect the extravagant grace you give each one of us.

Empower us by your Holy Spirit to share your compassion and mercy with the whole world.

We pray in Jesus’ name.

Amen.

Lectionary 32A (el vigésimo cuatro domingo después de Pentecostés)

Mateo 25:1-13

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

Oremos …
Que las palabras de mi boca y las meditaciones de nuestro corazón sean aceptables ante tus ojos, oh Señor, fortaleza nuestra y redentor nuestro. Amén.

La parábola del evangelio de hoy es difícil de escuchar. No suena como el Jesús que predicó el Sermón del Monte o hizo que los discípulos compartieran lo que tenían para que todos fueran alimentados.

En cambio, aquí la palabra de juicio resuena con fuerza. Cinco damas de honor son llamadas tontas. Y con esa declaración, nuestro corazón se aprieta porque ninguno de nosotros quiere ser visto como un tonto, ¿verdad?

Por supuesto que no. Queremos ser como los sabios personajes de esta parábola. Queremos saber lo que sabían, hacer lo que hicieron y ser aprobados por Jesús.

Pero eso también es problemático, ¿no?

La gracia, por definición, es inmerecida (no ganada y dada gratuitamente por Dios), por lo que lo que hacemos, o quizás más importante, lo que dejamos de hacer, no cambia la medida de la gracia que recibimos.

Entonces, ¿por qué Jesús cuenta esta historia?

En la parábola. Jesús dice que las damas de honor estaban esperando para encontrarse con el novio. Este no fue un episodio de televisión de realidad en el que alguien espera una llegada sorpresa desde fuera del escenario. “En las costumbres matrimoniales palestinas del primer siglo,… el novio iba a la casa familiar de su novia para completar los arreglos [matrimoniales] y la llevaba a su propia casa… donde se llevaba a cabo una celebración”.

Según la parábola y la costumbre, estas mujeres esperaban la llegada del novio. Puedes imaginarlos mirando por una puerta o ventana, llenos de anticipación, pero, a medida que la tarde se alargaba, se adormecieron y se durmieron, aun cuando sus lámparas seguían encendidas. ¡Y entonces, un grito los sobresaltó y los despertó!

El novio había llegado. Su tarea estaba al alcance de la mano. Estaban allí para recibir al novio. ¡Este era su momento, el tiempo que habían esperado y preparado! 

Pero en lugar de darle la bienvenida al novio, cinco de ellas fueron a buscar más aceite para que sus lámparas ardieran tan intensamente como las de las demás.

A estos cinco se les llama tontos. Sí, les hubiera venido bien estar mejor preparados y llevar un frasco extra de aceite, pero no son tontos porque se equivocaron.

Son tontos porque se distrajeron de su único trabajo:

para recibir al novio!

Como seguidores de Jesús, nuestra única tarea es permitir que el mundo vea a Jesús en nosotros; mostrar el amor de Dios por cada cosa creada mediante nuestras palabras y acciones.

Al igual que las damas de honor que partieron en busca de más aceite, es fácil distraerse con las particularidades de nuestro trabajo como discípulos.

Pero, como dijo el autor de negocios Steven Covey, “lo principal es mantener lo principal como principal”.

Lo que es más, las llamadas damas de honor “sabias” también fracasaron en el discipulado, ¿no es así?

Claro, estaban allí para recibir al novio, pero la bienvenida se vio disminuida por la ausencia de los demás, a quienes enviaron a medianoche a buscar más aceite para ellos.

La celebración hubiera sido más plena si hubieran sido menos tacaños o egoístas con lo que tenían; si no hubieran tenido miedo a la escasez o a no tener suficiente, toda la comunidad habría estado junta para la celebración.

El evangelio nos recuerda que estamos reunidos como comunidad de creyentes y que vivimos juntos como seguidores de Jesús.

Nos recuerda que ser discípulos no significa ser perfectos, pero sí significa saber que somos perfectamente amados por Dios en su abundante gracia.

Nos recuerda que si bien apreciamos nuestro entorno de vidrieras y velas o nuestra meditación tranquila, la adoración no se trata de la belleza de los paramentos, de cantar en el tono correcto, de pronunciar las palabras correctamente o de orar con elocuencia. La adoración se trata de estar reunidos en la presencia de Dios, incluso mientras nos limpiamos el sueño de los ojos. 

Y finalmente, el evangelio nos recuerda que no estamos llamados a celebrar lo bien que hemos hecho nuestro trabajo o lo cuidadosamente que nos hemos preparado, sino a celebrar al Dios que nos llama y nos envía para que el mundo conozca el amor de Dios.

Entonces, tal vez esta parábola se parezca al Jesús que conocemos, después de todo.

El Jesús que predica en su Sermón de la Montaña, “no rechaces a nadie que quiera pedir prestado de ti”. El mismo Jesús que enseñó: “No juzguéis, para que no seáis juzgados”. Y el mismo Jesús que dijo a sus discípulos,

³⁷ 'Amarás al Señor tu Dios con todo tu corazón, y con toda tu alma, y con toda tu mente.' ³⁸ Este es el mayor y el primer mandamiento. ³⁹ Y un segundo es parecido: 'Amarás a tu prójimo como a ti mismo'.

Oremos…

Dios de luz y amor,

Gracias por tu gracia abundante, dada a nosotros como don inmerecido, y por tu amor que nunca se agota, sino que siempre es abundante;

Gracias por el don de tu Hijo Jesús que nos muestra la necedad de la cruz en un mundo que se aleja de ella;

Por el Espíritu Santo, danos sabiduría para compartir tu amor y misericordia en un mundo que no te recibe.

Amén.

Matthew 25:1-13

The parable in today’s gospel is hard to hear. It doesn’t sound like the Jesus who preached the Sermon on the Mount or had the disciples share what they had so that all would be fed.

Instead, here the word of judgment resonates loudly. Five bridesmaids are called foolish. And with that declaration, our hearts clench because none of us wants to be seen as foolish, do we?

Of course not. We want to be like the wise characters in this parable. We want to know what they knew, do what they did and be approved by Jesus.

But that’s problematic, too, isn’t it? Grace by definition is unmerited – unearned and given freely by God – so what we do, or perhaps more importantly, what we have left undone doesn’t change the measure of grace that we receive.

So why does Jesus tell this story?

In the parable. Jesus says that the bridesmaids were waiting to meet the bridegroom. This wasn’t an episode of reality tv where someone waits for a surprise arrival from off-stage. “In first-century Palestinian marriage customs, …the groom would go to his bride’s family home to complete [the marriage] arrangements and bring her to his own house …where a celebration would take place.”[i]

According to the parable, and the custom, these women were waiting for the bridegroom’s arrival. You can imagine them watching out a door or window, filled with anticipation, but, as the evening lengthened, they became drowsy and slept, even as their lamps continued to burn.  And then, a shout startled and woke them!

The bridegroom had arrived. Their task was at hand. They were there to welcome the bridegroom. This was their moment, the time that they had awaited and prepared for!

But instead of welcoming the bridegroom, five of them left to find more oil so their lamps would burn as brightly as the others’.

These five are called fools. Yes, it would have been good for them to have been better prepared and to have carried an extra flask of oil, but they are not fools because they made a mistake.

They are fools because they were distracted from their one job:

to welcome the bridegroom!

As followers of Jesus, our one job is to let the world see Jesus in us; to show God’s love for every created thing by our words and actions.

Like the bridesmaids who left to find more oil, it’s easy to be distracted by the particularities of our work as disciples.

But, as business author Steven Covey has said, “The main thing is to keep the main thing the main thing.”

But, the so-called “wise” bridesmaids failed at discipleship, too, didn’t they?

Sure, they were there to welcome the bridegroom, but the welcome was diminished by the absence of the others who they sent out at midnight to find more oil for themselves.

The celebration would have been more full if they had been less stingy or selfish with what they had; if they had not been afraid of scarcity or of not having enough, the whole community would have been together for the celebration.

The gospel reminds us that we are gathered as a community of believers and that we live as followers of Jesus in life together.

It reminds us that being disciples does not mean being perfect, but it does mean knowing we are perfectly loved by God in God’s abundant grace.

It reminds us that while we appreciate our setting of stained glass and candles or quiet meditation, worship is not about the beauty of the paraments, singing in the right key, pronouncing the words correctly, or praying with eloquence. Worship is about being gathered together in God’s presence, even as we wipe the sleep from our eyes.

And finally, the gospel reminds us that we are not called together to celebrate how well we have done our work or how carefully we have prepared, but to celebrate the God who calls us and sends us that the world may know God’s love.

So maybe this parable sounds like the Jesus we know after all. The Jesus who preaches in his Sermon on the Mount, “do not refuse anyone who wants to borrow from you.”[ii] The same Jesus who taught, “Do not judge, so that you may not be judged.”[iii] And the same Jesus who told his disciples,

³⁷ 'You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.' ³⁸ This is the greatest and first commandment. ³⁹ And a second is like it: 'You shall love your neighbor as yourself.'[iv]

Let us pray…

God of light and love,

Thank you for your abundant grace, given to us as an unmerited gift, and for your love that never runs out, but is always plentiful;

Thank you for the gift of your Son Jesus who shows us the foolishness of the cross in a world that walks away from it;

By the Holy Spirit give us wisdom to share your love and mercy in a world that fails to welcome you.

Amen.

---

[i] Donald Senior. Matthew. 274.

[ii] Matthew 5:42

[iii] Matthew 7:1

[iv] Matthew 22:37-39

Lectionary 29A (el vigésimo primer domingo después de Pentecostés)

Mateo 22:15-22 

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

Oremos…

Que las palabras de mi boca y las meditaciones de nuestro corazón sean aceptables ante tus ojos, Señor, nuestra fortaleza y nuestro redentor. Amén.

En nuestra lectura del evangelio. Mateo describe una escena que tiene lugar en el templo. Jesús ha estado enseñando y ahora los líderes religiosos que sospechan de Jesús y quieren arrestarlo están tratando de desacreditarlo. Sabiendo que el gobierno romano exige impuestos a los ciudadanos, le preguntan a Jesús: “¿Es lícito pagar impuestos al emperador, o no?”

Es una pregunta capciosa, por supuesto. Si Jesús les dice a los ciudadanos que no paguen el impuesto, las autoridades romanas podrían arrestarlo. Y si dice que el impuesto es legal, entonces va en contra de la opinión popular del pueblo judío y potencialmente en contra de los códigos religiosos.

Entonces, cuando Jesús responde, denuncia su hipocresía y su malicia hacia él. Pero luego les hace su propia pregunta.

Primero, Jesús les dice a los líderes que le muestren una de las monedas utilizadas para el impuesto del emperador. Y alguien le trae la moneda que habría sido una moneda de plata romana llamada denario. En un lado habría un grabado con la imagen del emperador romano Tiberio, hijo de Augusto César. Y por otro habría llamado a Tiberio Sumo Sacerdote.

Había cambiadores de dinero en el templo que cambiaban monedas romanas por las monedas utilizadas para comprar sacrificios en el templo, pero estas monedas romanas todavía estaban en los bolsillos de los líderes religiosos. Cuando le llevaron una de las monedas romanas a Jesús, le revelaron que participan en la economía del imperio.

Y eso los preparó para la pregunta de Jesús, que era: "¿De quién es esta cabeza y de quién es el título?"

Por supuesto, era del emperador. Entonces Jesús les dice: “Dad, pues, al emperador lo que es del emperador y a Dios lo que es de Dios”.

Lo que no se dice, pero lo que Jesús sabía, y los líderes religiosos deberían haber recordado, es que todas las cosas pertenecen a Dios primero.

Cuando lo olvidamos, permitimos que otros ídolos, íconos e imágenes reclamen nuestras vidas, nuestra lealtad y nuestro tiempo. Nos alejamos de Dios y de las cosas de Dios y actuamos como si pudiéramos elegir lo que le pertenece a Dios.

Esta tendencia a rechazar la soberanía de Dios y tratar de controlar lo que sucede es parte del ser humano. En el Salmo 96, el salmista nos recuerda que: “Porque todos los dioses de los pueblos son ídolos, pero Jehová hizo los cielos”. (96:5 NVI) y en la carta de Pablo a los Tesalonicenses, escribe que la gente allí se había “convertido de los ídolos a Dios”. (1:9)

Nuestra lectura de Isaías tiene lugar mientras Dios se prepara para sacar a los israelitas del exilio. El rey persa Ciro ha sido ungido por Dios para permitir que los judíos regresen a su hogar en Jerusalén, y comenzando en el versículo 5,

Dios está relatando las formas en que Dios ha actuado a lo largo de la historia, incluso en la creación de la luz y las tinieblas, y de “bienes y ayes” o bienestar y destrucción. El poder para hacer todo esto está en manos de Dios, no de los humanos.

La soberanía de Dios no es una cuestión de elección ni de opinión. Es una declaración de hecho. Y podemos ignorarlo bajo nuestro propio riesgo, o podemos bendecir el nombre del Señor y adorarlo, confiando en que Dios es un rey y juez misericordioso.

En nuestras vidas, es fácil caer cautivo de la tentación de tomar el control, de esforzarnos por crear nuestra propia seguridad, de trabajar por la aprobación de los demás.

Una de las prácticas que tengo cuando sé que mi ansiedad aumenta en torno al control, la seguridad, la aprobación o la estima es una oración que enseña el difunto padre Thomas Keating, un monje y sacerdote católico. Llamada Oración de Bienvenida, es una forma de abrirme a la presencia y actividad de Dios en mi vida y mis actividades diarias. Es solo una frase:

“Dejo ir mi deseo de seguridad, afecto, control y acepto este momento tal como es”.

La soberanía de Dios nos ofrece libertad de esos deseos y nos invita a confiar en que Dios actuará con justicia (Salmo 96), que Dios irá delante de nosotros y nivelará las montañas y los obstáculos que tenemos por delante (Isaías 45:3), y que Dios nos elige y nos llama. amados. (1 Tes. 1:4)

Oremos…

Dios bueno y misericordioso, te damos gracias por tu Hijo Jesús, que nos muestra la plenitud de tu amor por nosotros.

Danos confianza en tu soberanía, poder, fortaleza, amor y misericordia.

Ayúdanos a ser imitadores de Jesús y generosos con nuestro amor y servicio.

Oramos en el nombre de Jesús.

Amén.

Matthew 22:15-22

In our gospel reading. Matthew describes a scene that takes place in the temple. Jesus has been teaching, and now the religious leaders who are suspicious of Jesus and want to arrest him are trying to discredit him. Knowing that the Roman government requires taxes from the citizens, they ask Jesus, “Is it lawful to pay taxes to the emperor, or not?”

It's a trick question of course. If Jesus tells the citizens not to pay the tax, he could be arrested by the Roman authorities. And if he says the tax is lawful, then he goes against the popular opinion of the Jewish people and potentially against the religious codes.

So, when Jesus answers, he calls out their hypocrisy and their malice towards him. But then he asks them a question of his own.

First, Jesus tells the leaders to show him one of the coins used for the emperor’s tax. And someone brings him the coin which would have been a Roman silver coin called a denarius. On one side, there would have been an engraving of the likeness of the Roman emperor Tiberius, son of Augustus Caesar. And on the other it would have called Tiberius the High Priest.

There were money exchangers at the temple who exchanged Roman currency for the coins used to purchase sacrifices at the temple, but these Roman coins were still in the pockets of the religious leaders. When they brought one of the Roman coins to Jesus, they revealed that they participate in the economy of the empire.

And that set them up for Jesus’ question, which was, “Whose head is this, and whose title?”

It was of course, the emperor’s. Jesus then tells them, “Give therefore the things to the emperor that are the emperor’s and to God the things that are God’s. 

What goes unsaid, but what Jesus knew, and the religious leaders should have remembered, is that all things belong to God first.

When we forget that, we allow other idols, icons and images to stake a claim on our lives, our loyalty and our time. We turn away from God and the things of God and act as if we can choose what belongs to God.

This tendency to reject God’s sovereignty and try to control what happens is part of being human. In Psalm 96, the Psalmist reminds us that, “For all the gods of the peoples are idols, but the LORD made the heavens.” (96:5 NRS) and in Paul’s letter to the Thessalonians, he writes that the people there had “turned to God from idols.” (1:9

Our reading from Isaiah takes place as God is preparing to bring the Israelites out of exile. The Persian king Cyrus has been anointed by God to allow the Jews to go home to Jerusalem, and beginning in verse 5, God is recounting the ways God has acted throughout history, including in creation of light and darkness, and of “weal and woe” or well-being and destruction. The power to do all of this is in God’s hands, not human ones.

God’s sovereignty isn’t a matter of choice or an opinion. It’s a statement of fact. And we can ignore it to our peril, or we can bless the Lord’s name and worship the Lord, confident God is a merciful king and judge.

In our lives, it’s easy to fall captive to the temptation to take control, to strive to create our own security, to work for the approval of others.

One of the practices I have when I know my anxiety is rising around control, security or approval or esteem, is a prayer that’s taught by the late Father Thomas Keating, a Catholic monk and priest. Called the Welcoming Prayer, it’s a way of opening myself to God’s presence and activity in my life and daily activities. It’s just one sentence:

“I let go of my desire for security, affection, control and embrace this moment as it is.”

God’s sovereignty offers us freedom from those desires and invites us to trust God will act justly (Psalm 96), that God will go before us and level the mountains and obstacles ahead (Isaiah 45:3), and that God chooses us and calls us beloved. (1 Thess. 1:4)

Let us pray…

Good and gracious God, we give you thanks for your Son Jesus who shows us the fullness of your love for us.

Give us confidence in your sovereignty and power and might, love and mercy.

Help us be imitators of Jesus and generous with our love and service.

We pray in Jesus’ name.

Amen.

Lectionary 28A

Matthew 22:1-14

In Matthew’s gospel, we are in Holy Week. A day or so after Jesus entered Jerusalem heralded as the Messiah, he is talking to the crowd, including religious leaders, in parables.

Remember parables are like short stories that tell us about God and God’s kingdom. Jesus uses familiar images like kings and rulers, weddings, families, crops and vineyards to teach his audience.

In this week’s parable, Jesus compares the kingdom of heaven to a king who has thrown a wedding banquet for his son. Imagine the elaborate preparations that a royal wedding would involve. And then consider that, in ancient Israel, weddings were joyful celebrations that took place over days of festivities. Remember the story of the wedding at Cana in John’s gospel? There were vats of wine. And here the king says he has slaughtered his oxen and fatted calves. 

This would be the party to end all parties. And, everyone loves a party, right?

But when the king sends his slaves out to invite the guests, the guests don’t respond with enthusiasm, gratitude, or joy.

Instead, some of them are dismissive and others are murderous, killing the messengers who had brought their invitations. And in the spirit of “taking an eye for an eye” (Leviticus 4:19-21), the king responds to their violence with his own vengeance, ordering his army to kill the murderers and burn their city to the ground.

Now, Matthew was writing to a Jewish audience sometime after 80 CE, after the destruction of the Jerusalem temple in 70 CE. Living under Roman occupation, his listeners would have known about rulers who destroy cities and oppress people.

They also would have known the Isaiah text we heard earlier. We divide the writings of the prophet Isaiah into three parts, and that text is in what we call First Isaiah. It is set in the time before the destruction of the first temple in Jerusalem, and before the exile under the Babylonian empire.

In the text, the prophet describes a city that has been destroyed, a place where ruthless nations had ruled. And then he acknowledges how God has responded to God’s people, providing refuge to the poor and to the needy. And he makes a promise that eventually there will be a great banquet or feast for all people. And that the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel, will save his people.

So, returning to our gospel, we have heard how the city was destroyed and we have heard how the ruthless murderers have been killed. So we are ready to hear about the great banquet or feast for all people.

And in the parable, that is what comes next. The king sends out more slaves, and this time they are told to invite everyone they find to the wedding banquet. The invitation is no longer limited; it is wide open and all are invited. And the slaves do what they’re told, and the wedding hall is filled with people.

But then we get a twist. And this appears to be Matthew’s addition because the same parable appears in Luke, but Luke ends it after the slaves go out a second time, with the king saying, “For I tell you, none of those who were invited will taste my dinner.” (Luke 4:24)

Matthew concludes the parable with an encounter between the king and a wedding guest. Apparently, the guest, whom the king calls “friend”, isn’t clothed appropriately. We may be curious about the word “friend”, because it’s the same word used by the vineyard owner when he speaks to the laborers who complained about their wages (Matthew 20) and it’s the same word that Jesus uses when he addresses Judas Iscariot in Gesthemane when Judas arrives to betray him. (Matthew 26)

Although the king had told the slaves to invite everyone, he has a problem with this guest. After questioning the wedding guest about how he got into the banquet, the king orders him bound and thrown into the outer darkness where there will be “weeping and gnashing of teeth.” (v. 14).

This is a phrase Matthew uses six times and Luke only uses once, and it doesn’t appear anywhere else in Scripture. It reflects the theme of judgment that we hear in Matthew’s gospel alongside the call to discipleship and bearing fruit. However, the judgment isn’t about who gets to come to the banquet. Everyone is invited.

Instead, Matthew “repeatedly calls his community to responsible obedience.”[i] When we become disciples and follow Jesus, we have a responsibility to our neighbors and the world, and we are accountable for how we bear witness to who God is.

As we remember in our thanksgiving for baptism, when we are joined to Christ in the waters of baptism, we are clothed with God's mercy and forgiveness. As Paul writes in Ephesians, Galatians and Colossians, we are transformed when we put on Christ, a new self. I understand that the wedding guest who is cast out of the banquet in Matthew’s parable illustrates that discipleship is not only showing up, but living out our faith in our actions and words throughout our lives.

Echoing his message about the narrow gate (Matthew 7:13; Luke 13:23) and the difficulty of a rich person entering the kingdom of God (Matthew 19:24), Matthew ends his parable saying, “For many are called, but few are chosen.”

So where is the good news? And what is Jesus telling us about God and the kingdom of heaven?

The text has several problems, and it challenges us and in places, it makes us uncomfortable. It’s ok for us to admit that.

First, if we have been thinking that the king represents God, we have a vengeful and violent God. And that isn’t good news.

A second problem comes from our tendency to see ourselves in the role of the hero in the parables that Jesus tells. Honestly, we usually aren’t. Instead, we are much more likely to be the ones who respond with stubborn and hardened hearts and the ones who ignore the generosity we witness. So in this parable, that would make us the ones whom the king destroys. Still no good news.

And third, it’s important to say aloud that anti-Semitic interpretations of this parable that see the two groups of guests as plan A and plan B, the Jews and the Gentiles, is also problematic. Christians do not replace the Jewish people; we are included in the invitation.

I think Martin Luther is helpful for our understanding of this parable. Referring to Christ’s return, Luther is quoted as saying, “There are two days in my calendar: This day and that Day.”

“This day” is today.

And “that Day” is the day or the messianic banquet or the great feast for all people when God will wipe away the tears from all faces. (Isaiah 25:8) It is the wedding banquet where everyone is invited.

Luther recognized that what is important is today ̶ not dwelling in the past or worrying about the unknown future. Today, we can follow Christ and today we can love our neighbor.

And meanwhile, with those listening to Jesus tell this parable, we trust that Isaiah’s words will be fulfilled and there will be a great feast for all people when the Lord God will swallow up death forever and wipe away the tears from all faces. (Isaiah 25:8-9) And our expectation of that Day shapes how we live This day. “We live today, as those who are waiting for Jesus’ return.”[ii]

Let us pray.

Good and gracious God,

Thank you for your grace and mercy and the invitation to live in your kingdom.

Thank you for clothing us in righteousness at our baptism and teaching us how to live our lives in Christ, as disciples transformed by your generous love.

Help us put on Christ daily, bearing fruit and preparing for the great feast that is to come.

We pray in Jesus’ name.

Amen.

---

[i] James Boyce. “Theological Themes in Matthew.” Enter the Bible. Luther Seminary.. https://enterthebible.org/courses/matthew/lessons/theological-themes-in-matthew, accessed 10/12/23.

[ii] Lewis Guest IV. “This Day and That Day: The Pressures of Today and the Returning King. “ DesiringGod.org. https://www.desiringgod.org/articles/this-day-and-that-day, accessed 10/12/23.

Lectionary 25A (el decimoséptimo domingo después de Pentecostés)

Filipenses1:21-30

Mateo 20:1-16

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

Oremos…

Que las palabras de mi boca y las meditaciones de nuestro corazón sean aceptables ante tus ojos, Señor, nuestra fortaleza y nuestro redentor. Amén.

En su carta a la iglesia de Filipos, Pablo emite un mandato que me llamó la atención en mi lectura de esta semana. Él escribe: "Vive tu vida de una manera digna del evangelio de Cristo". (1:27)

La palabra griega “axios” (ἀξίως) o “digno” aparece cinco veces en las cartas de Pablo a la Iglesia primitiva. Hablar de “dignidad” con razón hace saltar nuestras alarmas sobre la justicia por obras: la idea de que la salvación depende de ser “suficientemente bueno”. Sin embargo, nuestra lectura del evangelio nos recuerda que la gracia de Dios es abundante y no depende de cuánto o qué tan duro trabajemos. No es nuestro esfuerzo sino el amor de Dios por nosotros lo que nos salva.

Cuando Pablo anima a los cristianos a "vivir de una manera digna del evangelio", primero nos está diciendo "que vivamos como ciudadanos" – estar comprometidos y activos en la vida pública, tal como prometemos en el bautismo:

“anunciar a Cristo con palabras y obras,cuidar de los demás y del mundo que Dios creó, y trabajar por la justicia y la paz”.

Y luego define cómo es vivir de una manera digna del evangelio. Lo describe como “permanecer firmes en un mismo espíritu” y “luchar codo a codo con una sola mente”. (1:27) Un Dios, un Salvador, un Espíritu, una mente.

Recuerde que Pablo escribió cartas a la iglesia cuando la gente estaba en algún tipo de conflicto. Solo escuchamos su respuesta, por lo que nos perdemos la mitad de la conversación, pero aquí podemos imaginar que la iglesia en Filipos estaba experimentando trastornos y Pablo les anima a mirar más allá de sus diferencias y permanecer enfocados en la Buenas Nuevas de Cristo Jesús. En Cristo encontramos nuestra verdadera identidad y pertenencia, no a una facción política o ideológica u otra, sino a la familia de Dios, como hijos de Dios.

Cuando hablo de desacuerdos en la Iglesia, a menudo digo que si podemos estar de acuerdo desde el principio en que Jesús nos ama a todos, entonces tendremos puntos en común, un punto de partida compartido.

Lo admito, lamentablemente eso no siempre es posible, pero cuando lo es, nos ayuda a abrir los ojos y los oídos para ver el amor de Dios encarnado en la otra persona, en nuestro oponente e incluso en nuestro enemigo.

Creo que esto es lo hermoso del trabajo que involucra a más de una congregación, una denominación o incluso una religión. Pienso en lugares como Marruecos, donde miles de personas murieron a causa de terremotos, o en Libia que sufrió pérdidas similares por inundaciones catastróficas. En ambos lugares, decenas de miles de supervivientes están desplazados, y se están organizando trabajadores humanitarios y asistencia para brindar ayuda. En estos lugares, fácilmente miramos más allá de nuestras diferencias para ver la amada comunidad creada por Dios y cuidar de ella.

Nuestro Lutheran World Relief trabaja junto con otras organizaciones, y la atención se centra no en dónde no estamos de acuerdo, sino en cómo podemos lograr el objetivo de brindar servicios y apoyarnos mutuamente para lograr el mayor bienestar.

Volviendo a nuestro evangelio de hoy, que nos habla del amor extravagante y generoso de Dios, los trabajadores de la viña descontentos no pueden ver a los que llegan tarde como dignos o amados. Mateo no hace ningún juicio sobre por qué los trabajadores todavía estaban de pie por la tarde.

Podemos imaginar que tal vez eran mayores o más frágiles que los que fueron contratados primero. Quizás su apariencia fuera desconcertante.

Cualquiera que sea la razón, los trabajadores que iban temprano al campo y trabajaban en el calor del día estaban resentidos.

Y juntos estos textos me hacen preguntarme,

¿A quién descuido o resiento?

¿Cuándo juzgo quién es digno de recibir el amor de Dios?

¿Y a quién descarto porque no puedo ver más allá de nuestras diferencias?

No me gustan estas preguntas. Porque sé que me comporto de esta maneras:

Me siento frustrada con la gente que no apoya un salario mínimo más alto para los trabajadores.

Estoy decepcionada con la gente que adora en un lugar donde no se invita a las mujeres a ser liderares.

Estoy enojada porque tenemos legisladores en nuestro estado y nación que han creado leyes que hacen que las personas que amo se sientan inseguras.

Y hay un lugar para mi frustración, mi desilusión y mi enojo, pero no puedo convertirlos en una línea de division y pretender que “esas personas” están fuera del amor de Dios.

Porque no estan.

Cada vez que trazo una línea en la arena, Jesús la cruzará.

En ambas direcciones.

El dio la bienvenida tanto al fariseo Nicodemo (Juan 3) como al recaudador de impuestos Zaqueo. (Lucas 19). Ambos compartieron una comida sabática con el líder de los fariseos (Lucas 14) y cenó con recaudadores de impuestos y pecadores. (Mateo 9)

Así es como se ve el amor extravagante de Dios. Todos juntos, unidos como amados de Dios, incluso con nuestras propias opiniones y creencias.

Gracias a Dios.

Philippians 1:21-30

Matthew 20:1-16

In his letter to the church in Phillipi, Paul issues a command that stood out to me in my reading this week. He writes, “Live your life in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ.” (1:27)

The Greek word “axios” ( ἀξίως )or “worthy” appears five times in Paul’s letters to the early Church. Talk of “worthiness” rightly trips our alarms about works righteousness – the idea that salvation is dependent on being “good enough”. However, our gospel reading reminds us that God’s grace is abundant, and it is not dependent on how much or how hard we work. It is not our effort but God’s love for us that saves us.

When Paul encourages Christians to “live in a manner worthy of the gospel” he first is telling us “to live as citizens” – to be engaged and active in public life, just as we promise at baptism:

“to proclaim Christ through word and deed,

care for others and the world God made,

and work for justice and peace.” (ELW)

And then he defines what living in a manner worthy of the gospel looks like. He describes it as “standing firm in one spirit” and “striving side by side with one mind”. (1:27) One God, one Savior, one Spirit, one mind.

Remember Paul wrote letters to the church when the people were in conflict of some kind. We only hear his response so we’re missing half of the conversation, but here we can imagine that the church in Philippi was experiencing disruption, and Paul is urging them to look beyond their differences and remain focused on the Good News of Christ Jesus. In Christ, we find our true identity and belonging, not in one political or ideological faction or another, but in the family of God, as God’s children.

When I talk about disagreements in the Church, I often say that if we can agree at the beginning that Jesus loves us all, then we have common ground, a shared starting place.

I admit, unfortunately that isn’t always possible, but when it is, it helps us open our eyes and our ears to see the love of God embodied in the other person, in our opponent, and even in our enemy.

I think this is what is beautiful with work that involves more than one congregation, one denomination or even one religion. I think of places like Morocco where thousands were killed by earthquakes, or Libya suffered similar losses from catastrophic flooding. In both places, tens of thousands of survivors are displaced, and aid workers and assistance are being organized to provide relief. In these places, we easily look past our differences to see the beloved community created by God and to care for them. Our Lutheran World Relief works beside other organizations, and the focus is not on where we disagree, but on how we can accomplish the goal of providing services and support each other to accomplish the greatest good.

Returning to our gospel today, which tells us about the extravagant, generous love of God, the grumbling vineyard workers cannot see the late arrivals as worthy or beloved. Matthew doesn’t make any judgment about why the laborers were still standing around in the afternoon. We can imagine that perhaps they were older or frailer than the ones who were hired first. Maybe their appearance was disconcerting. Whatever the reason, the workers who went to the fields early and worked in the heat of the day resented them.

And together these texts make me wonder,

who do I neglect or resent?

when do I judge who is worthy to receive God’s love?

And who do I dismiss because I can’t see past our differences?

I don’t like these questions. Because I know I behave in these ways:

I get frustrated with people who won’t support a higher minimum wage for workers.

I am disappointed with people who worship in a place where women are not invited to lead.

I am angry that we have lawmakers in our state and nation who have created laws that make people whom I love feel unsafe.

And there is a place for my frustration, my disappointment, and my anger, but I cannot make them a dividing line and pretend that “those people” are outside God’s love.

Because they aren’t.

Anytime I draw a line in the sand, Jesus is going to cross it.

In both directions.

He welcomed both the pharisee Nicodemus (John 3) and the tax collector Zaccheus.(Luke 19)

He both shared a sabbath meal with the leader of the Pharisees (Luke 14) and he had dinner with tax collectors and sinners. (Matthew 9)

That is what the extravagant love of God looks like. All of us together, united as God’s beloved, even with our own opinions and beliefs. 

Thanks be to God.

Lectionary 21A (Decimotercero domingo después de Pentecostés)

Mateo 16:13-20

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

Oremos…

Que las palabras de mi boca y las meditaciones de nuestro corazón sean gratas a tus ojos, Señor, nuestra fortaleza y nuestro redentor. Amén.

Me gusta la pregunta que hace Jesús. Pregunta a sus discípulos: "¿Quién dicen los hombres que es el Hijo del Hombre?" Y luego pregunta: “Y vosotros ¿Quién decís que soy yo?”

Has oído esta historia. Mateo, Marcos y Lucas lo incluyen en sus evangelios.

Simón Pedro –el mismo hombre que vimos hundirse en el agua, el mismo que sabemos que negará a Jesús tres veces en su arresto– confiesa que Jesús es el Mesías, el ungido.

Escuchando a Pedro, me pregunto cómo responderíamos a Jesús. Creo que es una pregunta devocional interesante, que podemos plantearnos durante momentos de meditación y reflexión.

Pero también creo que la pregunta es una distracción.

Porque, como señaló irónicamente un colega, no importaba si Pedro respondía bien o no. Nuestra opinión no cambia quién es Jesús. La identidad de Jesús se encuentra en quién Dios dice que es.

En el evangelio de Mateo, Jesús responde a la confesión de Simón Pedro, alabándolo y diciéndole que él será la roca sobre la cual se edificará la iglesia.

Pero Lucas y Marcos sólo registran la severa advertencia y el mandato de Jesús a los discípulos de no contarle a nadie acerca de él.

Nunca aprendemos por qué Jesús alentó en ocasiones la discreción o incluso el secreto por parte de sus seguidores. Cuando cura al leproso (Mateo 8, Marcos 1, Lucas 5) les dice que no se lo diga a nadie excepto al sacerdote. Y nuevamente, después del evento de la transfiguración (Mateo 17, Marcos 9, Lucas 9), advierte a sus discípulos que no le hablen a nadie sobre el Mesías.

Los acontecimientos del evangelio de hoy tuvieron lugar en Cesárea de Filipo, una ciudad grecorromana donde había un santuario dedicado a Pan, que era el dios griego de los pastores y los rebaños. Me imagino las escenas de algunas de las películas ambientadas en el mundo antiguo y puedo imaginar el ruido y el caos de la escena.

Entonces, tal vez Jesús no quería provocar a los líderes religiosos o políticos todavía, o tal vez sabía la violencia que enfrentarían más tarde y estaba tratando de proteger a sus seguidores hasta que estuvieran mejor equipados para liderar a otros y enfrentar la oposición.

En cualquier caso, la confesión de Pedro es un punto muy importante. De ahora en adelante Jesús será más directo en sus explicaciones del sufrimiento y la muerte que le espera como Mesías.

Por hoy, creo que lo que importa es nuestra comprensión de lo que significa decir en voz alta que Jesús es el Mesías, el Hijo de Dios.

Jesús no sólo fue un buen rabino o maestro.

No fue uno de los profetas antiguos, como Elías o Jeremías, que confrontaron al pueblo con su infidelidad.

Y no fue Juan el Bautista quien llamó al pueblo al arrepentimiento.

Cuando proclamamos a Jesús como el Mesías, el ungido, proclamamos que él es el enviado de Dios para nuestro bien.

Cuando llamamos a Jesús Mesías, lo nombramos como quien revela el amor de Dios por todos nosotros.

Y, cuando llamamos a Jesús Mesías, también estamos nombrando nuestra dependencia de él, para la salvación y para la vida.

Y si eso es lo que significa llamar a Jesús Mesías, también significa que no estamos buscando esas cosas en alguien o en algo más. Significa que no escuchamos cuando voces en competencia intentan captar nuestra atención y lealtad, y los poderes de nuestro mundo intentan decirnos que no necesitamos a Jesús ni la fe.

Hace unos años participé en un grupo de personas que pasaban tiempo juntas en oración y silencio. y una de mis prácticas favorita era que nos pedian que dejáramos nuestros títulos en la puerta. En ese espacio no importaba saber quién era pastor, maestro, músico o quién tenía un doctorado. Fue un recordatorio regular de que nuestra identidad no se encuentra en nuestros logros, nuestro trabajo o incluso nuestras familias. Nuestra identidad proviene de lo que Dios dice que somos: hijos amados, amados y perdonados.

Gracias a Dios.

Matthew 16:13-20

I like the question Jesus asks. He asks his disciples, “Who do people say that I am?” And then he asks, “Who do you say that I am?”

You have heard this story. Matthew, Mark and Luke, all include it in their gospels.

Simon Peter – the same man who we watched sink into the water, the same one who we know will deny Jesus three times at his arrest – confesses Jesus is the Messiah, the anointed one. 

Listening to Peter, I wonder how we would answer Jesus. I think it’s an interesting devotional question, one we can ask ourselves during times of meditation and reflection.

But I also think that the question is a distraction.

Because as one colleague wryly noted, it didn’t matter whether Peter answered well or not. Our opinion doesn’t change who Jesus is. Jesus’ identity is found in who God says he is.

In Matthew’s gospel, Jesus responds to Simon Peter’s confession, praising him and telling him that he will be the rock on which the church will be built. 

But Luke and Mark only record Jesus’ stern warning and command to the disciples not to tell anyone about him.

We never learn why Jesus encouraged discretion or even secrecy from his followers at times. When he heals the leper (Matt. 8, Mark 1, Luke 5) he tells him not to tell anyone except the priest. And again, after the event of the transfiguration (Matt. 17, Mark 9, Luke 9), he warns his disciples not to tell anyone about the Messiah.

The events of today’s gospel took place in Caesarea Philippi, a Greco-Roman city where there was a shrine dedicated to Pan who was the Greek god of the shepherds and flocks.  I imagine the scenes from some of the movies that have been set in the ancient world and can picture the noise and chaos of the scene.

So perhaps Jesus didn’t want to provoke the religious or political leaders just yet, or perhaps he knew the violence they would face later and he was trying to protect his followers until they were better equipped to lead others and face opposition.

In any case, Peter’s confession is a turning point. From now on Jesus will become more direct in his explanations of the suffering and death that awaits him as the Messiah.

For today, I think what matters is our understanding of what it means to say aloud that Jesus is Messiah, Son of God.

Jesus was not only a good rabbi or teacher.

He was not one of the ancient prophets, like Elijah or Jeremiah, who confronted the people with their faithlessness.

And he was not John the Baptist, who called people to repentance.

When we proclaim Jesus as Messiah, the anointed one, we proclaim he is the One sent by God for our sake.

When we call Jesus Messiah, we are naming Him as the one who reveals God’s love for us all.

And, when we call Jesus Messiah, we are also naming our dependence upon him, for salvation and for life.

And if that is what it means to call Jesus Messiah, it also means we are not looking for those things in someone or something else. It means we don’t listen when competing voices try to capture our attention and loyalty, and powers in our world try to tell us we don’t need Jesus or faith.

A few years ago I participated in a group of folks who spent time together in centering prayer and silence. And one of my favorite practices was that we were asked to leave our titles at the door. In that space, it wasn’t important to know who was a pastor, a teacher, a musician, or who had a doctoral degree. It was a regular reminder that our identity is not found in our achievements, our work, or even our families. Our identity comes from who God says we are – beloved children, loved and forgiven.

Thanks be to God.