Fifth Sunday after Pentecost

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

Lucas 10:25-37

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

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

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

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

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

Él explica la animosidad entre Judea y Samaria, escribiendo:

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

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

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

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

¿Qué opinas tu?

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

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

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

El que fue golpeado, asaltado y abandonado.

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

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

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

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

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

Pero la gracia de Dios es imparable.

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

Como escribe Pablo en Gálatas:

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

La gracia de Dios va más allá de nuestro entendimiento.

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

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

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

Amén.

Luke 10:25-37

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

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

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

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

He explains the animosity between Judea and Samaria, writing:

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

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

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

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

What do you think?

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

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

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

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

The one who was beaten and robbed and abandoned.

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

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

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

to tend to his injuries,

to care for him with compassion

and to carry him to safety.

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

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

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

As Paul writes in Galatians,

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

God’s grace is beyond our understanding.

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

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

Amen.

Lectionary 16B

Mark 6:30-34, 53-56

For most of the last week, I’ve been fighting a summer cold, 
armed with hot tea and honey.

So, perhaps that’s why, as I listened to this week’s gospel, what caught my attention was how the crowds chased after Jesus and the disciples, reaching the shores ahead of them to be in their presence, clamoring to be heard and scrambling to touch even the fringe of Jesus’ cloak, so that they would be healed.

And I remembered that in Greek, the word translated here as “healed”, as in “all who touched it were healed” is the same word as “saved”. All those who touched the fringe of his cloak were saved.

I thought about all the different reasons we search for healing. Just within the gospel text, we see different examples.

Many of the people coming to Jesus were physically ailing, but some may have also been suffering mental illness. And the disciples themselves were trying to retreat for renewal after their ministry work had left them with no time for rest, or even a meal.

Sometimes we look for healing because like the crowds chasing Jesus and the disciples, we’re physically hurt or we’re sick: with cancer, with chronic pain, with addiction.

Sometimes we seek healing because we’ve experienced trauma, abuse or neglect, or, like the disciples, we are exhausted or burnt-out.

And sometimes we seek healing because we are grieving broken or difficult relationships.

And as I thought about all the reasons why we seek healing, I thought about all the places where we look for healing.

Maybe, we’re lucky and we find our way to a twelve-step meeting in a church basement, or maybe we find peace in the sanctuary of a professional therapist’s office. Unfortunately, too often, when people are desperate to find healing, they try to find a faster way or a shortcut and fall victim to schemes.

When Luther went to Rome he was disgusted by priests like Johann Tetzel, who reportedly “preached to the faithful that the purchase of a letter of indulgence entailed the forgiveness of sins.”[i] People who were afraid of being cast out of God’s love and mercy would pay money to buy a so-called assurance of their salvation.

And the practice didn’t end with the Reformation.

There are modern accounts by the Lutheran World Federation of “people pay[ing] the pastor for praying for them to be cured from illness” in India, and just a few years ago, “People apparently paid 100,000 Namibian dollars to sit next to [a preacher called “the prophet of Namibia”], because they hoped to be healed.[ii] 

Certainly, as with any scam, education reduces the risk that vulnerable people will be harmed by people who would exploit them. But why are they so desperate that they are compelled to look for healing there in the first place?

There’s an old saying, sometimes attributed to Bishop Desmond Tutu, that says,

There comes a point where we need to stop just pulling people out of the river. We need to go upstream and find out why they’re falling in.

The hope we have from today’s gospel is that hurting people will find Christ’s healing presence in our congregations and faith communities   ̶

that God’s people will communicate the good news of God’s healing grace to everyone who walks through our doors;

that we would see their pain or sadness,

and we would have compassion for them.

But the conviction I have from today’s gospel is that too often,

they don’t.

And too often, we don’t.

Ouch. Believe me, I’m right there, wanting to say, “not my church.” “not my congregation.” But I know I need to check myself when I get defensive, because I also know I can name times when my first response wasn’t compassion, it wasn’t what Jesus models.

Too often, the vulnerable show up in our churches and find judgment and suspicion, and even rejection and hostility. And instead of being told they are children of God who are loved and saved by God’s grace, they hear that they don’t belong or aren’t welcome.

That’s not Jesus.

Jesus sees the crowd and has compassion for them.

He is moved, by their presence, by their suffering and by their need, to be with them where they are.

He stretches out his hands to them and gathers them in, teaching and healing them.

He offers them belonging first.

God loves us, and God’s mercy is new every day, so today we can repent for the times when we have failed to show compassion, and the times when we have not welcomed the stranger or loved our neighbor as God loves them. It is never too late to start.

May we stretch ourselves to reach for those who are reaching for Jesus’ healing grace and gather them into God’s family.

Amen.

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[i] https://www.britannica.com/biography/Martin-Luther/The-indulgences-controversy , accessed 7/20/2024

[ii] https://2017.lwfassembly.org/en/news/regional-stories/false-promises-salvation, accessed 7/20/24.

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.