Twenty-third Sunday after Pentecost / Lectionary 32A

Matthew 25:1-13

This is a strange parable.

The setting is unfamiliar; it reflects a culture that celebrates weddings differently than we do today and describes customs that sound odd to us. The community is under duress and being persecuted for their religious beliefs; they’ve already waited for the return of Christ longer than the first generation of Christians expected and now Matthew is urging his listeners to keep the faith, confess Christ and wait expectantly for Christ’s return. Two thousand years later, that plea has lost its immediacy, and it all just sounds strange to our hearing.

But at the heart of the parable, Matthew is addressing two questions: “When will Christ return?” and “What shall we do while we wait?”

In these last few weeks of the Church Year, “the lectionary texts [are] about the coming of the Son of Man” as the season of Advent nears. Advent or “the season of coming” prepares us for Christ coming both as the conquering Son of Man at the end of time and as the helpless infant in a manger.[i]

But meanwhile we wait.

In Matthew’s parable, the bridesmaids are waiting together for the bridegroom’s arrival. Matthew divides them into two groups and describes them as wise and foolish but doesn’t say more about what makes one wise and the other foolish. What we do know is both groups fall asleep while they wait.

Matthew tells us later that the wise ones carried extra oil with them while the foolish ones only had what their lamps could hold.

Martin Luther understood the oil as faith but how can we run out of faith? And if the burden of having enough faith falls on us, how do we square that with Jesus’ own words in Matthew 17 when he said to his disciples,

“For truly I tell you, if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it will move; and nothing will be impossible for you.”(Matt. 17:20)

Others think of the oil as “good works” but then, how can we buy more good works? And how do we reconcile that with our Lutheran understanding that salvation is only possible through God’s loving mercy and not something that we ourselves can do? I don’t think we can.

I don’t think the oil matters. What is important is that we are invited to wait, and how we wait matters.

One of my preaching professors, Karoline Lewis, has told the story of her father-in-law, who was 96 when he died. Sam was a World War 2 veteran, and he didn’t talk much about the war, but one day, not too long before he died, he asked for his grandchildren to come over and he bequeathed his items from the war to them. And as he told the stories behind the items, he talked about his experiences in the war, and

He talked about the waiting. [You see, Sam] had been selected, singled out, not to be sent to the front, but to stay behind [because he] was good in math. He showed [his family] his notebook in which he had calculated multiple ballistic measurements. And as he worked on his equations, he waited for his fellow soldiers, his friends, to return.

Some did. Some did not.

He could not understand how he was spared. Yet in the waiting and the wondering he knew God was there, and there was nothing else he could do but trust that truth.[ii]

The waiting we are invited into in this parable is waiting with uncertainty. Waiting when we have no control over what happens next. Waiting even when we don’t understand why it is taking so long. Waiting even when we feel unprepared.

The foolish bridesmaids were not foolish because their lamps ran out of oil. They were foolish because they left to search for more oil.

They forgot why they were there. They were there to wait for the bridegroom, even if that meant waiting in the dark.

A few years ago, Episcopal priest Barbara Brown Taylor wrote a book called Learning to Wait in the Dark where she describes the darkness as anything that scares us and then lifts up the idea that Christ finds us there, saying:

Between the great dramas of life, there is almost always a time of empty waiting — with nothing to do …— a time when it is necessary to come up with your own words and see how they sound with no other sounds to cover them up. If you are willing to rest in this …., where you cannot see your hand in front of your face and none of your self-protective labors can do you one bit of good, then you may come as close to the Christ as you will ever get —

We must not be afraid, or frantically search out ways to bring light in; instead we must remember that the Light of the World shines brightest in the dark, and Christ comes to us in our waiting.

Let us pray with the psalmist, saying,

“Lord, make haste to help me…
come to me quickly, O God.
You are my helper and deliverer;
O Lord, do not tarry.” (Ps. 70:1, 5)
Amen.

[i] Brian Stoffregen. “Exegetical Notes.”

[ii] Karoline Lewis. “How to Wait.” Dear Working Preacher. Luther Seminary.

All Saints Sunday

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

Today’s gospel text comes from the beginning of the Sermon on the Mount, a sermon Jesus preached to the crowds who had begun following him after he had begun showing up in their neighborhoods and towns and healing people. He had traveled all around Galilee, where Nazareth was, and he was known there and even farther north and east, throughout Syria.

Sometimes we turn these verses, known as the Beatitudes, into a set of rewards that say, “IF you will do this, THEN you will be blessed.

As if God’s love for us is transactional.

As if God’s blessing depends on us. 

But thankfully God’s love and grace for us is not dependent on us. As Luther tells us in his Small Catechism in the explanation of the first article of the creed, God provides for us and protects us “out of pure, fatherly and divine goodness and mercy, without any merit or worthiness” of ours![i]

So why does Jesus say these things if it isn’t to put a carrot out in front of folks, to encourage us to be better people? 

Remember Scripture is always revealing who God is and what God is doing. God is the actor, not us. So when we hear Jesus’ words, we want to ask, “What do his statements reveal about who God is and about God’s character?”

On this All Saints Day verse 4 stands out:

“Blessed are those who mourn for they will be comforted.”

Today we particularly remember those whom we have loved who have died during the last year. And certainly we hope ritual and remembrance bring comfort to those who grieve and mourn, and we trust that God is with you today and every day.

But Jesus isn’t saying “Oh, lucky you, here’s your reward for your suffering.” Loss and death are not blessings, and in the depths of new grief, especially, I don’t think anyone feels “blessed”.

Instead Jesus is saying, “God sees you are hurting and the same God who created you and loves you, will comfort you, wipe away your tears and sit with you in your grief.”

This is the God who is portrayed in the beatitudes, one who sees and honors those who are suffering.

It is in words like the ones Jesus preaches today that Scripture is so clearly a living Word that we hear differently in different seasons of our lives. It is not a historical document chiseled in granite, but a Word that God speaks that we may hear and know who God is, and who we are as God’s people.

In Jesus’ words, we are reassured that God does not simply leave us in a deep pit and say, “there, there.”

But, sits with us in the midst of ugly tears and sleeplessness, in the too-quiet house or at the desk where a stack of papers waits for our attention.

Later in his sermon, Jesus says, “Blessed are those who are merciful because they shall receive mercy.” And while the word here is “merciful”, I heard it today as “full of mercy.”

I believe God’s comfort is mercy itself. One definition of mercy is “kindness or help given to people who are in a very bad or desperate situation.”[ii]

A distant and impersonal God who sets the world in motion and then leaves wouldn’t draw near to us in grief.

A God who wants to play “gotcha” and punish us when we make mistakes wouldn’t be there to wipe away our tears.

Instead, we know this loving God whose mercy, compassion and steadfastness is revealed to us first in the cross.

When sin and brokenness bring us to the foot of the cross, aware that we cannot live and be who God created us to be on our own, God doesn’t leave us there either. God forgives us and gives us new life.

I think Jesus is saying to all of us, who are full of God’s mercy for us, that whatever fills us up are the things that the world will see overflowing from us. When we are full of God’s mercy, we will be merciful to others.

Psalm 57 isn’t a psalm that’s assigned in the lectionary so we don’t usually hear it in worship, but in its first verse, it names why God’s mercy is so important to us all. It says:

Be merciful to me, O God, be merciful, for I have taken refuge in you; in the shadow of your wings will I take refuge until this time of trouble has gone by. (57:1) 

The psalmist often calls upon God to be the God that Scripture has already revealed. The God we call upon is the same merciful God who saved Noah from the flood and Isaac from death; the same God who parted the Red Sea so the Israelites could escape from Pharaoh; the same God who spared Nineveh from destruction. 

And, in God’s mercy, God provides us with refuge, a place apart from the time of trouble, or the destroying storms. God shelters us, like a mothering hen gathers her brood under her wings (Matt. 23:37)

The psalmist tells us God does not leave us alone to wait out the storms. Living in the shadow of God means God is always nearby. God remains with us and promises us that “the worst thing is not the last thing.”

That is the resurrection promise: that evil and death will not win; in Christ, God’s love for us and the world wins, and we are freed from our fears and transformed.

The Beatitudes aren’t a system of rewards, and we have confidence in God’s love and mercy for us. As we are sent into the world this week, I wonder where we can notice what God is doing, and, with God’s help, how we can participate? How can we let the things of God overflow from us? How can we extend God’s mercy to others? How can we provide refuge and safe shelter to others? How can we accompany others so that they do not have to be alone?

Let us pray…

Good and Gracious God,
Thank you for your love and mercy, and for making us all your saints in your kingdom.
We give thanks especially for those who have gone before us and showed us how to live faithfully here on earth.
By your Holy Spirit, continue to fill us with the things of God that our words and actions would reflect who we are as Your people.
We pray in your Holy Name.
Amen.

[i] Martin Luther. “Explanation of the First Article of the Apostles Creed.” Small Catechism.

[ii] Karoline Lewis. "A Merciful Advent." Luther Seminary. https://www.workingpreacher.org/craft.aspx?post=4225

Reformation Sunday 2020

John 8:31-36

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

Today we celebrate the 503rd anniversary of the Reformation, recognized on October 31st each year. While the Reformation is rooted in history, it is a movement toward the future.

As we celebrate the bold actions that Martin Luther took to hold the Church accountable, and recognize his place in the collection of reformers who challenged wrong when they saw it, we celebrate a Church where the Holy Spirit gathers us around word and sacrament; where God hears our cries for mercy and pours out abundant grace; and where the Spirit leads us into Christ’s future with glad and generous hearts.[i]

This year we have had to learn how to be the gathered church without being in the same building, or sometimes, even the same state, as is the case when members who have moved away or others who are on vacation worship online. And while we lament and grieve the losses and some of the ways that we are different now, we also have confidence that God is at work, that it is the Holy Spirit who gathers us together in Christ, and the Holy Spirit is not constrained or confined to one location.

We have also had to learn what it means to gather around word and sacrament, when physical touch is discouraged. We’ve turned new attention to the significance of our rituals and been curious about the longings people have for them and we have had to re-form what they look like. This re-forming and re-shaping has always been the legacy of the sixteenth-century Reformation.

In the midst of the pandemic and changes to how we gather and worship, the truth that we know, the truth that frees us in Christ, is that, through it all, God remains steadfast and in our midst. As the psalmist declares in Psalm 46,

God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change.[ii]

This is the psalm that was the basis for Martin Luther’s Reformation hymn “A Mighty Fortress is Our God” where he wrote, 

though hordes of devils fill the land, all threatening to devour us, we tremble not, unmoved we stand; they cannot overpower us.[iii]

Against the evil in the world, God is our refuge and fortress, a hiding place where we can rest safe and secure. And God hears our cries for mercy , and pours out abundant grace.

Describing this wellspring of saving grace, German Lutheran theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote:

The past and future of our whole lives are merged in one in the presence of God.

The whole of the past is comprised in the word forgiveness. 

The whole of the future is in safe keeping in the faithfulness of God.[iv]

Forgiveness and faithfulness.

And thankfully, neither one depend on my effort or ability. These are God’s actions toward us. It is God who forgives us when we sin; in the borrowed words prayed by the Jewish people at Yom Kippur, when,:[v]

We abuse, we betray, we are cruel.
We destroy, we embitter, we falsify.
We gossip, we hate, we insult.
We jeer, we kill, we lie.
We mock, we neglect, we oppress.
We pervert, we quarrel, we rebel.
We steal, we transgress, we are unkind.
We are violent, we are wicked, we are xenophobic.
We yield to evil, we are zealots for bad causes.

It is God who forgives us –

God who created the whole world and loves us too much to let judgment and death have the final word against us when we are convicted by our sin.

Recalling Bonhoeffer again, he wrote:

We who once were lost, now are found in Christ and made members of his Body. In the rescuing light of God’s word, we become aware of the God who loves us; we see our neighbors and their need…[vi]

Forgiven by God, we are sent into the world,
where the Spirit is leading us into Christ’s future –
into a future freed from contention and divisiveness,
a future freed from strife or envy, ill will or spite.[vii]
And so, we go, with glad and generous hearts,
trusting God to guide our thinking and speaking, and to strengthen us by grace.

Let us pray…[viii]
O God,
you have called your servants to ventures of which we cannot see the ending,
by paths as yet untrodden, through perils unknown.
Give us faith to go out with good courage,
not knowing where we go,
but only that your hand is leading us and your love supporting us; through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Amen.

[i] from Reformation 500 Sourcebook, copyright © 2016 Augsburg Fortress.

[ii]  Psalm 46:1-2

[iii] “A Mighty Fortress is our God”, excerpt from v. 3.

[iv] Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Ethics, ed. Eberhard Bethge (New York: The Macmillan Company, 1962), 79–80.

[v] The confession from Yom Kippur evening service, Mahzor for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, ed. Rabbi Jules Harlow (New York: Rabbinical Assembly, 1972), 403, 405.

[vi] Bonhoeffer.

[vii] “Where True Charity and Love Abide.” Text: Latin hymn, 9th cent. Translation © 1995, 2001 Augsburg Fortress.

[viii] Eric Milner-White and George Wallace Briggs, Daily Prayer (London: Oxford, 1941), 14; reprinted in Evangelical Lutheran Worship (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 2006), 317.

Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost / Lectionary 29A

Matthew 22:15-22

Have you ever set a trap for someone?

In one of the last scenes of the second Harry Potter movie Harry confronts the villainous Lucius Malfoy, returning a troublesome diary to him. Angrily, Lucius thrusts the book at his house elf Dobby, but when Dobby opens the book, he discovers a sock. If you don’t know, giving a house elf clothing is how a master frees the house elf, so unwittingly Lucius has set Dobby free. When he realizes he was tricked, Lucius sputters and spits at Harry, but he cannot change what has happened. Harry has defeated him.

In today’s gospel, the Pharisees set a trap for Jesus.

And – spoiler alert – the trap backfires.

There’s an ancient proverb that says, “the enemy of my enemy is my friend” and the Pharisees, who were the Jewish leaders and teachers, team up with the Herodians, who supported the political appointees who governed the region, and were dependent on Roman favor. [i]

The trick question they ask Jesus is, “Is it lawful to pay taxes to the emperor, or not?”

Earlier, in Matthew 17, the collectors of the temple tax asked Peter if Jesus paid that tax. Prior to the destruction of the temple in 70CE, the temple tax was a sign of solidarity of the  Jews in Israel and the Diaspora, and it supported the sanctuary in Jerusalem; after the temple’s destruction, the Romans continued to levy the tax to keep up the Jupiter Capitolinus temple in Rome.[ii] Peter answered that Jesus did pay the temple tax, and Jesus instructed Peter to pay the tax for them both, “to avoid giving offense….”[iii]

Ironically, in today’s gospel reading, the Pharisees and Herodians begin with false praise of Jesus, including stating that he does not show deference or partiality to others; they say that he is not swayed by the opinions of others. The truth is he isn’t swayed by superficial arguments or illegitimate leaders, but, throughout Scripture, Jesus is moved by the suffering he sees and has compassion upon the crowds he meets.

Today his opponents are asking about the census tax. That was a direct poll tax or “head tax levied by the Romans on all adults under their rule.”[iv] To call the census tax unlawful wouldn’t merely give offense; it “would be a public and dangerous repudiation of Roman authority.”[v] And yet, to call it lawful, without qualification, would appear to endorse the Roman occupiers.

But Jesus evades their trap.

He asks them to show him the coin used for the tax. When they produce the Roman coin imprinted with the image of Tiberius Caesar on it, and inscribed with the title, “Tiberius Caesar, august son of the Divine High Priest Augustus” Jesus simply asks them whose head and title are on the coin, and then he delivers the familiar one liner:

Give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s , and to God the things that are God’s. (22:21) [vi]

Not only does Jesus evade the trap they’ve set with their question, but he also exposes them and the nature of their hearts.

Too often when we hear this parable, our attention turns toward the role of government and taxes, or even separation of church and state. But the question that matters isn’t about civics or money or taxes. The question that matters is, “Who is the Lord and ruler of our lives?”

When we proclaim that God is sovereign, then everything in creation belongs first to God. There is nothing to reserve or keep from God.

In his book Giving to God, Lutheran pastor and teacher Mark Allen Powell begins by telling a story about the baptism of the Gauls. He’s careful to say that while the story may not be historical fact, it is nonetheless true.

The Gauls were an ancient people who lived in what is now France and Belgium, and by the time of the Christian era, they had been conquered by the Roman Empire and were supposedly under their control. As Christian missionaries arrived in the region, many of the Gauls became Christians.

As the story goes, when a converted Gaul warrior was baptized in a river or stream, he would hold one arm high in the air as the missionary dunked him under the water. This seemed peculiar to the missionaries but they soon learned the reason for it. When the next battle broke out, the Gaul would proclaim, “This arm is not baptized!”, grab his weapon, and ride off to brutally destroy his enemy.

Even as he acknowledges the story is more likely myth than history, Powell tells the story because it gives us the compelling image of someone trying to keep part of their body, one aspect of their identity, free from the influence of baptism.[vii]

Baptism delivers us from the forces of evil, puts our sinful selves to death, gives us new birth, and makes us one with Christ and the whole people of God.[viii]

When I hear Jesus say, “Give to God what is God’s.” I am reminded of Psalm 139 where the psalmist writes,

13 For it was you who formed my inward parts; you knit me together in my mother's womb.  14 I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; that I know very well.  15 My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. 16 Your eyes beheld my unformed substance. In your book were written all the days that were formed for me, when none of them as yet existed. 17 How weighty to me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them! 18 I try to count them-- they are more than the sand; I come to the end-- I am still with you. (v. 13-18)

God— our creator, our life-giver and our sustainer — knows us inside and out and loves us, and delivers us wholly and completely. Following Jesus, being a disciple, means surrendering ourselves, without qualification, to God. As Luther writes in the catechism regarding the first commandment, “We are to fear, love and trust God above all things.”[ix]

We can no more hide, reserve, or withhold a part of ourselves from God — our lives, thoughts, words or deeds — than live with a gangrenous limb. And if we think we are succeeding at separating what is ours, what is theirs and what is God’s, we are allowing the powers and principalities of this world to trap us in a reality that does not reflect God’s abundant kingdom. And we are deceiving ourselves, not God.

Let us pray.

Holy and Lifegiving God,

Thank you sending your Son Jesus that we can know your abundant love for us.

Show us how to fear, love and trust You above all things. Following Jesus, may we withhold nothing, show compassion for those who suffer and not be swayed by false teachers.

By the power of your Holy Spirit deliver us from division.

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

Amen.

[i] Donald Senior. Matthew. 248.

[ii] Senior, 202-203.

[iii] ibid

[iv] Senior, 247.

[v] Senior, 247.

[vi] Senior 248.

[vii] Mark Allen Powell. Giving to God: The Bible’s Good News about Living a Generous Life. xi-xii.

[viii] Evangelical Lutheran Worship, 225.

[ix] Ibid, 1160.

Nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost / Lectionary 28A

Matthew 22: 1-14

One of the podcasts I listen to in the course of my preaching preparation describes the Revised Common Lectionary, the three-year cycle of four readings for each Sunday, as being “designed to bring congregations through the great narrative of scripture without being constrained by the choice of the preacher.” This is one week when I might have chosen differently.

In the gospel text we just heard Jesus tells another parable, where he compares the kingdom of heaven to a wedding banquet given by a king. Maybe, Matthew wants us to recall the wedding at Cana, the first of the miracles Jesus performed, and a story we only hear from the evangelist John. Or maybe we are to compare wearing the wedding garment to being clothed in Christ at baptism. Maybe Matthew is comparing the king to God and the son is Jesus, but then, what meaning are we supposed to make from the enraged king who sends his troops to destroy murderers and burn the city? (v. 7) Or from the later actions of that same king, who invites everyone to come to the feast, and then casts out one man, condemning him to the outer darkness? (v. 13) It is a difficult text.

The epistle we have today is difficult in another way. It is Paul’s conclusion to his letter to the church at Philippi. And one of the most well-known lines is verse 4:

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice.

The risk is that in the midst of current events Paul’s words come across as tone-deaf, starry- eyed, or helplessly idealistic.

Over the past week, there has been violence and unrest in our country and in places like Kyrgyzstan where the election may have been corrupted; there has been destruction where a fourth named storm has made landfall on the Gulf Coast, and lives and homes have been endangered by fires in the Pacific northwest and by flash floods that rose in France and Italy; and life and dignity continue to be disregarded in Myanmar where children are exploited for labor and in Yemen where they are facing a fifth year of famine.

And even closer to home, loved ones have died, others have fallen ill, and still others have lost jobs, been isolated and alone and struggled to know God’s love.

And then there’s COVID-19.

It is a time of disorientation and dis-connectedness. And, I imagine rejoicing is probably not the first response most of us have. Rage, anxiety, despair, and lament, but not rejoicing.

But Paul wasn’t wearing rose-colored glasses when he wrote these words.

Paul wrote this letter to the church in Philippi, a Roman colony and the center of Christianity in Europe at the time, early in his imprisonment in Rome.[i] He had been arrested and jailed, and he probably expected to die there, killed or martyred. He could see quite plainly what lay ahead.

And yet, he writes about the joy that is found in centering our lives in Christ. Listen to what he writes:

1 Therefore, my brothers and sisters, whom I love and long for, my joy and crown, stand firm in the Lord in this way, my beloved.  

2 I urge Euodia and I urge Syntyche to be of the same mind in the Lord.  3 Yes, and I ask you also, my loyal companion, help these women, for they have struggled beside me in the work of the gospel, together with Clement and the rest of my co-workers, whose names are in the book of life.

4 Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice.  

5 Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near.  6 Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.  7 And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.  

8 Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.

9 Keep on doing the things that you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, and the God of peace will be with you.

The word “therefore” points us back to the earlier parts of Paul’s letter, as does the phrase “in this way.” Far from being flippant, or dismissive, Paul is re-orienting these Jesus-followers, reminding them that they are not at the mercy of the world around them.

He instructs them first, “Stand firm in the Lord.” Having heard the stories of who God is, and witnessed God’s activity in the world, we are called to remember who we know God to be, and who we are as God’s people.

Paul recognizes that Gospel work, following Christ and pointing to God’s love for the world, is challenging work, but importantly it is not work we do alone. God provides us with companions and co-workers.

And then Paul continues with encouragement, urging the Philippians to rejoice.

He doesn’t say, “Rejoice in the suffering of others.” He doesn’t say, “Rejoice because of your victory.”

He says, “Rejoice in the Lord.” Rejoice because we share in God’s grace (1:7); rejoice because Christ Jesus has made us his own (3:12); rejoice because our citizenship is in heaven (3:20).

We rejoice because God is God and we are not. We are not rejoicing to express an emotional high or to ignore the suffering we witness, but to proclaim our faith, deeply rooted and grounded in knowing Jesus as Lord and Savior.

When Paul continues, his emphasis is on gentleness, prayer and thanksgiving. This isn’t aspirational language. These are the characteristics of disciples, living out of who we are as followers of Jesus and standing firm in the Lord.

A popular prayer or call and response we used to say before Wednesday night meals in my home congregation was, “God is good all the time. All the time, God is good.” I admit that I have wondered sometimes about those words. There are definitely days when it doesn’t feel true. I don’t feel like rejoicing. But at the ground of my being, I know God is good.  God, the Creator, Life-giver and Sustainer is good. It doesn’t mean I have to like everything I see happening, or even understand it, but I have confidence in the God whom I know through the person of Jesus, and I can offer thanksgiving and prayer.

Paul concludes by urging the people in Philippi to “think about these things”, referring to the things that reflect the good in the world. Like a modern gratitude practice where you name something everyday and give thanks, Paul encourages us to pay attention to the world around us and notice where God is showing up, confident in God’s presence with us in all circumstances.

Paul isn’t urging us to sentimentality; instead he is urging us, as one colleague wrote, to “live into the belief that God can and will bridge the gap between the world we long for and the world we see before our eyes.”[ii]

That’s not so difficult after all.

Amen.

[i] Enter the Bible. Luther Seminary. https://www.enterthebible.org/newtestament.aspx?rid=9, accessed 10/9/2020

[ii] Debie Thomas, “Sunday’s Coming.” The Christian Century.

Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost / Lectionary 27A

Matthew 21:33-46

The parable we just heard is set in a vineyard that the landowner prepared for planting, put a fence around and built a watchtower over.

Often it’s risky to turn parables into allegories, associating each character in the parable to something, or someone, in the world where we live. But there’s widespread agreement that this parable is an allegory. Matthew has taken the text from Mark and told this story in a way that would speak to his community, a community of Jesus followers living after the destruction of the temple in Jerusalem in 70 AD.

In Christianity, this text has been misused dangerously and inaccurately to suggest a supersessionist view where God replaces a disobedient Israel with faithful Gentiles. But Matthew’s community were Jewish Christians, not Gentiles, so that doesn’t make sense; it also assumes that the Gentile church has been more faithful than the Jews and, sadly, history refutes that claim.[i]

Listening to this parable, Matthew’s audience would have immediately recognized that the vineyard represents Israel.

We didn’t hear it but today’s Old Testament reading is the “Song of the Unfruitful Vineyard” from Isaiah 5, a poem and allegory that “expresses the divine pain at the people’s failure to live out the relationship with their God.”[ii] “God richly blessed and tended God's "vineyard," the chosen people, giving them everything they needed to thrive. But instead of grapes, God got wild grapes, so the vineyard must be radically pruned.”[iii]

In Matthew’s parable, the landowner is God and the two groups of servants reflect the “typical Jewish groupings of the Scriptures into the “former” prophets [which are Joshua through Kings] and the “latter” prophets [which are Isaiah through Malachi].”[iv]

Of course, the son, and heir, is Jesus himself, who was sent by God to God’s people, and then arrested and executed.

And the tenants, well, the tenants, are the people of God, the ones entrusted to care for God’s kingdom; and in the parable, the tenants are the Pharisees, the chief priests and elders. They ignore the landowner’s authority over them in favor of their own plans, and instead of responding with gratitude for the plentiful harvest, or recognizing the abundance they’ve been given, instead of returning to God a portion of what God had provided them, the tenants act out of greed and self-interest. Their “attitude of selfishness that has no need for God” leads them to violence and murder.

Matthew, Luke and Mark all include a version of this parable and say that that when the chief priests and the Pharisees realized Jesus was speaking about them, they wanted to arrest him but they didn’t for fear of the crowds. (Matt. 21:45-46, Mark 12:12, Luke 20:19)

Jesus didn’t avoid conflict but called the religious leaders and the people of Israel to be accountable as God’s people. Then as now, being God’s people means that we follow God’s commands for our relationship with God and with each other. As Luther states throughout his catechism, we are first “to fear and love God so that” our actions will reflect God.

Today, when we hear this parable and understand ourselves as the tenants, we may think of our congregation as the vineyard, a bountiful place where we build a fence or hedge around us for protection, and add a watchtower to alert us to those who might cause trouble.

The parable then is a warning, because the fence and watchtower only separated the tenants farther from the rest of the world. The community became one of insiders and outsiders and the tenants felt threatened by people they didn’t know who came to the vineyard.

I recently heard Pastor Kelly Chatman from North Minneapolis describe his congregation there, and he said, one time, when some people from the neighborhood came to worship for the first time, someone complained because they saw the visitors eating potato chips in the back of the sanctuary. Even Pastor Kelly said he started to say something, to gently correct them, but he caught himself because he recognized what was happening in that moment: there were visitors eating potato chips in the back of the sanctuary because there were people coming to church who didn’t already know the rules, they didn’t know all the words to the prayers or the hymns, when to stand and when to sit, and they’d come anyway.

They saw something in that congregation that made them want to be a part of it. They saw Jesus there.

And, that is Good News.

If we’re serious about working for the kingdom of God, then the vineyard is “all the places where we have been called by God to produce the fruits of the kingdom.”[v] And when we use that definition, the whole world opens up. The kingdom isn’t limited to one congregation, or even one denomination or doctrine, but the whole world.

Following Jesus, we all are entrusted with God’s kingdom and that includes the ways we live out the kingdom of God in our homes and places of business, our schools and neighborhoods, our friend groups and associations, as well as our congregation.

And when we see the expansive kingdom of God, the watchtower is transformed into a lighthouse illuminating God’s love for our neighbors and guiding us to those places where we may be in service in our community and world.

Let us pray…

Good and gracious God,

Thank you for sending Your Son Jesus to us, and for your forgiveness when we do not receive him and we reject your love for us.

Help us to see all that we are and all that we have is because of your abundant grace for us.

Send us out into your kingdom, into all the places of our lives,

That the world would see Jesus.

We pray in the name of Your Son, our Lord and Savior, Jesus the Christ. Amen.

[i] Donald Senior. Matthew. 238-244.

[ii] Charles Aaron, Jr. “Commentary on Isaiah 5:1-7.” Luther Seminary. Workingpreacher.org

[iii] Fred Gaiser. “Isaiah.” Luther Seminary. EntertheBible.org

[iv] Donald Senior. Matthew. 239.

[v] Brian Stoffregen. “Exegetical notes on Matthew 21:33-46."

Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost / Lectionary 26A

Who remembers Holy Week?

It’s not a trick question. Believe it or not, Palm Sunday, which marks the beginning of Holy Week, was April 5, just a little less than six months ago.

A little over six months ago on March 13 our congregation, and many around us, moved worship online and closed our buildings, in a faithful effort to manage the impact of the novel coronavirus on our community. None of us imagined then that we would still be managing life in a pandemic six months later, but here we are.

And while autumn’s arrival helps us mark time and distances us even farther from springtime, this year especially, it feels like Holy Week happened a very, very long time ago.

But today’s gospel is a Holy Week text. On Palm Sunday our attention turns to the triumphant procession that carries Jesus into Jerusalem, but this gospel text takes place on what we call Holy Monday, the day following Jesus’ arrival in the royal city.

As we listen to this gospel text, it’s helpful to place it in the context of the days preceding Jesus’ arrest and execution.

It isn’t surprising to hear some of the religious leaders question Jesus’ authority. These same leaders had questioned his disciples about why he ate with tax collectors and sinners (9:11) and why they didn’t fast (9:14) and why he healed on the Sabbath. They were convinced his authority came from the devil. (9:34) Matthew tells us they were angry after hearing about the Hosannas that were shouted the day before. (21:15)

So now, fueled by their resentment and fear, they confront Jesus, hoping to expose him as a charlatan, a fraud.

And instead, he reveals their own hypocrisy.

Jesus tells the leaders he will answer their question if they will answer his. Similar to Socratic questioning where the teacher probes the students’ knowledge with questions, Jesus poses his own question to search for the truth behind the question they have asked.

But instead of answering truthfully, the leaders hem and haw, arguing about which answer was best. They could answer that the baptism of John came from heaven and, consequently, admit they denied the evidence of God’s power at work in front of them. Or they could deny God’s power was at work in John and incur the wrath of the people who saw him as a prophet.

When they realized that neither answer would get the result they wanted, they chose not to answer at all, telling Jesus, “We don’t know.”

He wasn’t fooled.

They didn’t like the evidence before them, but they knew the answer.  They didn’t like what telling the truth would cost them, so they lived the lie.

When the leaders wouldn’t answer him, Jesus tells them the parable of the two sons, clearly comparing these leaders to the second son, the one who feigned obedience and told his father he would go to the vineyard and work, but never went.  Like the leaders, that son had all the right words and he was courteous and respectful, but his actions were empty.

In contrast, the first son answered truthfully, “No, I won’t go.” Jesus doesn’t tell us how the father reacted, but he does tell us that late, this son changed his mind. The Greek here is “he repented.” And after he repented, he followed his father’s instructions and did his father’s work.

Jesus compares the tax collectors and prostitutes to this son. These same sinners who had drawn the leaders’ criticism earlier in Jesus’ ministry aren’t the people who spend all day in the temple court (or the church). They don’t know the prayers, they don’t follow the rules, and they don’t show the religious leaders the reverence they expect. But they see the truth in John’s proclamation, and they believe and follow Jesus.

And Jesus says they will go into the kingdom of God before the so-called religious leaders who have failed to recognize God’s power at work first through John and then in Jesus.

Jesus’ question, “Which of [these] did the will of his father?” invites us to reflect on how we respond to God.

When have we said, “yes” but not lived out that “yes”?

When have we said we are “Christian” but forgotten to follow Christ?

When have we been unwilling to give the unpopular answer because it will be uncomfortable or inconvenient?

When have we refused to let God change us?

When have we rejected the ways God is at work because accepting God’s transformative love for all is disruptive?

I expect most of us recognize times when we have followed more closely in the footsteps of the chief priests and elders, than we have followed Jesus. Our sinful nature turns our attention to ourselves and our self-preservation and turns us away from God.

The Good News we hear today is that we can repent,
change our minds and hearts, think differently,
and go to work in the vineyard, doing our Father’s work
in God’s kingdom here on earth.

Let us pray…

Good and gracious God,

Thank you for your Son Jesus who came into this world, revealing your power and authority.

Forgive us when we become captive to fear, resentment and self-centeredness, especially when it hurts your beloved children.

Help us see how you are changing lives in our congregation and in our community and drawing people to you, and put us to work in your kingdom here on earth.

Amen.