Epiphany 3A

Matthew 4:12-23

1 Corinthians 1:10-18

A popular question for pastors is “What is your call story?”

It may be surprising to you, but from those I’ve heard, it’s more often characterized by a persistent or bothersome nudging than the clarion call we hear Jesus make to Simon Peter and the others in today’s gospel.

My own certainly was. Although I’d considered going to seminary after college, I didn’t pursue it then. A few years later, after Jamie and I had met and married and our oldest daughter was born, I was 26 and diagnosed with cancer, and it was there that I first experienced the holy work of hospital chaplains. But it wasn’t until ten years later, when our two children were in elementary school, that I began to ask what God wanted me to do, as I was pretty sure it was something different from the work I had been doing in nonprofits. And it was in the conversations with pastors that followed, and at each step of candidacy, seminary and internship that confirmed I was listening well and following God’s call for my life.

Like the disciples in today’s gospel, I wasn’t called to work that is wildly different from what I had been doing. It’s not like Jesus called me to build wells in Kenya or teach farmers in Guatemala. God is using what I know to make a difference with God’s people.

I still have deep conversations with people and learn about their lives. But instead of connecting their interests and passions to a cause or campaign, our conversations are more often centered on their faith stories and how God is calling them to live and serve. I still talk with people about giving but now it’s from the perspective of seeing our giving as a faith practice where we remember that we are custodians of what God has first given us. One of the very best, new parts of this call God has given me is helping people hear that God’s grace is for them and not only for other people; it sounds like foolishness when we use the world’s measures and standards, but that’s why grace is God’s gift to us and nothing we earn.

Each one of us has a call story. You may say, “Oh, I’m retired” or “I never went to seminary” or any number of other things to tell yourself you aren’t called, but you are. Like the pronouncement from the heavens when Jesus was baptized by John, at baptism, God pronounces you a child of God. In this way, God calls each one of us.

There’s a saying that goes, “God doesn’t call the equipped, but God equips the called.” In today’s gospel, we see Jesus call fishermen – laborers without education, credentials or power. Jesus calls them and tells them,

“You know all you need to know – instead of fishing for fish in the sea, now you’re going to fish for people. Help people be caught by the love that God shows you and you show the world.”

 “The call that Jesus casts over the waters of today is the same as the one that those first disciples heard.” (Jennifer Moland-Kovash, “Living by the Word”, Christian Century) Our call begins with our identity as children of God and continues with using the gifts God equips us with to show God’s love to the people we meet.

In calling them to join him, Jesus tells Simon Peter and the others that what they do matters, and we learn that there is a connection between what we believe and what we do. Disciples hear God’s Word and do it.

The gospel shows us that discipleship or following Jesus means leaving what we know or what is comfortable and going into an unknown future. Following Jesus means dying to the old and beginning anew.

It is what St. Paul talks about in Romans 6:

we have been buried with [Christ Jesus] by baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life. (Romans 6:4 NRS)

In another of Paul’s letter, the one to the church in Corinth, we hear again about discipleship, and the importance of unity among the followers of Jesus. We don’t know exactly what is happening there, but Paul addresses the rise of factions or divisions within the community there and chastises them for placing their loyalty to one teacher or missionary above their unity in Christ Jesus. He calls the disciples there to set aside their divisions and focus on the power of God, known in the cross of Christ and what God is doing in their midst.

It isn’t easy to surrender to the disruptive love of God, leave what we know and follow God into a new and unknown future. But that is exactly what Jesus calls Simon, Andrew, James and John to do, and it’s what God calls us to do, also.

We are called to be unified by God’s good news for the world as we figure out how God is calling us, individually and as a congregation, to bear that Good News to our neighbors and world.

As a community of God’s beloved, we’re called to be a place of welcome and acceptance, and a place where lives are transformed by hearing God’s word taught and where people experience healing. (David Lose, “In the Meantime”)

Reflecting on the gospel, as a congregation – a community of people following Jesus - we want to help catch people in the love of God.

When we share our lives with each other, when we tell others where we have seen Jesus in our day or our week, and when we invite friends to come and see what God is doing here at Grace or in one of the ministries we partner with, we are creating a giant net, woven together by relationships, where people can be caught up in God’s love.

Just imagine what that bountiful catch could be!

 

Let us pray…

Good and gracious God,

Thank you for calling each one of us your beloved child.

Thank you for the gift of your grace that invites us to die to the old and begin anew, every day.

Help us live in your love for us and share that love with the world.

Amen.

Christmas Day 2022

Titus 3:4-7

While we hear the familiar Christmas story in Luke and Matthew’s gospels, and watch it play out in pageants, movies and television specials, Linus never takes the stage to say the verses from our first reading – the only time we hear these verses is on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.

They’re from the book of Titus, one of the pastoral epistles, or letters, in Scripture. And while some of the letters we have are attributed to Paul, it’s believed that this letter to Titus and the two letters to Timothy – all of which we think were written toward the end of the first century CE, or possibly even in the second century - were written by an anonymous author who credited Paul in order to honor him. Using Paul’s name on a letter that was written after his death is like producing a new Walt Disney movie; Mr. Disney died in 1966 but dozens of movies produced since then bear his name because the legacy he built endures.[i]

Whenever we listen to one of these letters, it’s helpful to remember that it’s as if we are looking over the author’s shoulder as the words are being recorded or perhaps like we found a stack of letters tied up with twine in a box in the attic. We aren’t the original recipients, and we don’t know a lot about who that was, or even about the author. The letter, then, invites our curiosity.

In this letter, the author is writing to Titus – a Gentile leader - on the island of Crete about the Christian community there,

and at the center of his letter,

he writes about the manifestation of God’s love in the world –

the very incarnation of God that we celebrate in the nativity, or birth, of Jesus at Christmas.

In Jesus, God defies the people’s expectations of a Messiah or Savior sent from heaven

as a triumphant warrior king,

and instead,

God breaks into the lives of ordinary women and men

and delivers our Savior, who arrives as a vulnerable newborn

held in the tender embrace of his mother.

Jesus our Savior brings salvation for all, manifesting the goodness and loving kindness of God, in the flesh. Salvation is ours, not because of anything we have done,
but because God so richly loves every one of us.

And so, it’s not only Jesus’ birth that we celebrate at Christmas; as the author reminds us, in the waters of baptism we too are born again and renewed by the Holy Spirit. So, as we remember the Son of God arriving in the world as an infant, we also remember our own baptism when we were named + child of God.

In Jesus, God’s grace is born in the world for all to see and know.

So on this Christmas morning,

I wonder how and where we see grace appear in our lives today?

Is it

In the person next to us reaching out their hand to hold ours?

In someone’s praying for us when we need it?

In the quilts sewn and delivered to neighbors who are trying to stay warm against the winter cold?

In the knitted prayer shawl wrapped around the shoulders of someone who is grieving?

In the laughter around an abundant table?

In the stillness of the night sky or the quiet of the early morning?

Wherever it is that you notice God’s grace, know that it is God’s gift to you, given without conditions or requirements.

In a cynical world that measures achievements and rewards status, that seems - like a newborn Savior - an impossibility. Surely, there’s a catch!

But there isn’t.

God simply pours out love and grace and mercy through Jesus

and invites us to respond to this goodness in our lives by drawing near to God and sharing Jesus with the world.

Let us pray…

Holy God, 
Thank you for sending your Son Jesus to us,
and showing us how much you love us.
Thank you for the gift of baptism, that you call us your children;
And thank you for your unfailing grace.
By your Holy Spirit, renew us and lead us
to share Jesus with the world.
We pray in the name of our Savior, Jesus.
Amen.

---

[i] Lutheran Study Bible. 1952.

Advent 1A

Matthew 24:36-44

With twin warnings, Jesus tells the disciples “Keep awake!” and “Be ready!”

Contrary to the success of the popular fictional “Left Behind” series, these verses are not about God seizing the elect and forgetting the rest of us. And while they may be entertaining, bumper stickers and church signs telling us, “to look busy because Jesus is coming” miss the mark here too. The purpose of apocalyptic literature in Scripture is not to terrorize us into obedience, but to provide revelation about God and to encourage hope.

Instead of being anxious about a capricious God whose promise of eternal life is based on our attitude or behavior, as we begin anew the season of Advent, both Isaiah and Matthew call on God’s people to wait on God and to look to God to do something new again.[i]

Isaiah is addressing the Israelites before the exile, urging them to trust God to fix what is broken and to live in anticipation of a peaceful future, despite the conflict roiling around them.

Matthew is speaking to Jesus’ followers who were likely living in Antioch in Syria where there were both Jewish and Gentile Christians. He’s addressing them after the destruction of the Jerusalem temple and in the midst of disagreements with both rabbinical Jewish leaders and Roman authorities.

Their messages to their communities remind us that faith is always communal, nurtured in the space where we gather together and draw near to God.

In this season, here at Grace, we are waiting and preparing for the coming of the Light of the World, God’s own Son Jesus - God’s love incarnate, born into the world for us.

Knowing what we are waiting for shapes how we wait. Instead of being anxious or afraid, we are invited to believe that God’s future will be different because it is a future is based on God’s promises; it is a future

where God will be with us;

where God will mediate or make a way through the division and enmity between nations and peoples,

and where God will bring peace to our lives.

That sounds implausible if not impossible as we witness violence in our communities and world. Is it surprising that we’d rather retreat into the merry comfort and nostalgia of Christmases past and pin our hopes on gift giving and holiday feasting?

But what is faith if not “the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.”? (Hebrews 11:1 NRS)

The prophet Isaiah begins his speech with a call to return to the house of the Lord, to the centering place where the people experience the rhythms of life together with God. This Advent season we are invited to gather here, to practice our faith together in worship and “to get ready for the new movements of God’s Spirit in our lives.”[ii]

We come together to learn God’s ways and God’s paths. But to be ready to learn we must be tender-hearted, and not let our hearts be hardened toward God. Remembering the mistakes of Pharaoh and the Egyptians, we must have a willingness of Spirit to hear God’s Word and go God’s way. 

It's easier said than done, of course. Submitting ourselves to God’s Word and God’s ways requires a re-orientation, turning away from the world and towards God, as when Saint Paul says, “lay aside the works of darkness and put on the armor of light”.

The works of darkness are the sin and self-centeredness that distract us from God and what God is doing in this season. And wearing the armor of light, like being clothed in Christ at baptism, is not about being transfigured into dazzling majesty, but receiving the grace that God has given us freely and finding our strength in Christ. Instead of swords we carry weapons of righteousness, equipped by God to bear the Good News of Jesus coming into the world.

Finally, Isaiah calls to the house of Jacob, the people of Israel, and to us, “Come, let us walk in the light of the Lord!”

Pastor Nathan Nettleton paraphrases the verse from Isaiah as “let us stick to the tracks that the LORD lights up!”[iii] (Isaiah 2:5)

This time of year, I sometimes wear a headlamp to walk the dogs because it gets dark so early; with a headlamp, you don’t see very far ahead – just enough to take the next step, and the one after that as you move forward. Walking in the light of the Lord isn’t about having a floodlight that illuminates your surroundings so you can see everything at once; instead, it is taking the next faithful step, trusting in the One who is lighting the way. 

“Come, let us walk in the light of the Lord” this Advent season. Let us gather here with tender hearts and willing spirits to listen for what God is saying. Let us be ready and alert to how God is working in our lives and those around us. Let us not be distracted by bright lights and tinsel but focus on the Light that is coming into the World.

Let us pray…

Holy God, We give you thanks for giving your Son Jesus to the world that we may all know your love for us.

Help us turn away from the ways of sin that draw us from you,

and teach us to walk in Your light.

Let our light so shine that the world may know You.

We pray in Jesus’ name.

Amen.

---

[i] Fairless, John; Chilton, Delmer. The Lectionary Lab Commentary with Stories and Sermons for Year A (p. 3). The Lectionary Lab. Kindle Edition.

[ii]  ibid, p. 4.

[iii] Nathan Nettleton, Laughing Bird Liturgical Resources. https://laughingbird.net/index.php/occasion/a01/2022-11-27/ , accessed 11/25/22.

All Saints Sunday

Luke 6:20-31

On All Saints Sunday we remember the saints who have gone before us even as we include ourselves within the community of the saints, a blessed community, bound together, through time, and over and against death.

Just last week Anne Marie and I were talking with the confirmation students about saints. We took a field trip from the youth room to the narthex – the space just beyond the glass doors of the sanctuary – and talked about the saints whose symbols are on shields that hang there. We talked about apostles – people sent into the world with the Good News – and about disciples – people called to follow Jesus.

“The community of the saints is not an "ideal" community consisting of perfect and sinless men and women, where there is no need of further repentance.”[i] If you go and examine those shields, you’ll count twelve of them because even Judas – who betrayed Jesus – is included among the saints.

Learning that God loves us, redeems us and makes us holy or sanctifies us even in our imperfections is a gift of our faith.

We aren’t saints because we are perfect and blameless; we are saints because, in God’s sight, we are wonderfully created, beloved children of God, and even when we are petulant and selfish,

God offers us forgiveness.

We aren’t saints because we can overcome grief or be stoic survivors of trauma; we are saints because God and God’s son Jesus are above every power, victorious over grief and suffering, and victorious over the brokenness of sin.

We aren’t saints because our hearts grew three sizes and now, we can forgive the people who have hurt us; we are saints because God’s mercy is new every morning. We are sinful, and every day, we turn away from God and inward on ourselves, refusing to confess our dependence on Him. But God never refuses his grace and God never gives up on us.

That is Good News. God is steadfast and abounding in love and mercy for you and for me.

With the confirmation students, we also talked about the people in our lives who have helped teach us about Jesus. Often it is a parent or grandparent, but sometimes it’s a neighbor or a family friend.

I tell the story of my college roommate Lori inviting me to go to campus ministry.

I think our children remember Ms. Nancy, a woman whom I worked with who also taught our one room Sunday School in a tiny congregation in Harpers Ferry.

So on this All Saints Sunday, I wonder who are the saints you have met in your life?

We gather as living saints today because others have poured out God’s love in their care for us.

And we gather as the community of saints because together we remember God’s promises for us.

In his letter to the Ephesians, Paul reminds the people there – people who are facing trouble and persecution – that they have already set their hope on Christ (v 12).

This hope empowers us to imagine the future that God is preparing, to see with not only our eyes but with what one pastor calls, “the eyes of our hearts”.

The hope we have in Christ helps us see beyond the divisiveness of the world now and see each other as God’s beloved children and to see each other as fearfully and wonderfully made in God’s image. It is a hope that reaches beyond any one of us and is nourished in community and in relationship.

An old Hasidic tale tells of a disciple who asked his rabbi the meaning of community one evening, when they were all sitting around a fire. The rabbi sat in silence while the fire died down to a pile of glowing coals. Then he got up and took one coal out from the pile and set it apart on the stone hearth. Its fire and warmth soon died out.[ii]

In his letter, Paul encourages the disciples at Ephesus to return to this enduring hope that is grounded in God’s saving power. (v. 18) He reassures them that God is at work in and through all that they are experiencing, having “put all things under his feet” (v. 22)

Jesus embodies this same hope when he delivers his sermon on the plain in Luke’s gospel. Instead of ascending to a mountaintop and making pronouncements from on high, Jesus comes into the crowd and meets the people there. Apostles, disciples and curiosity-seekers alike. He heals people’s illnesses and casts out demons and he talks with them about their lives.  

When Jesus makes the declarations of blessings and woes that we hear in today’s gospel, he isn’t talking abstractly. He has witnessed the hunger, the grief and sorrow and the ways some are ignored or shut out. These are vulnerable people who come to Jesus with hearts laid bare. And Jesus meets them in their need.

His woes aren’t curses against the people who are satisfied with their lives as much as alarm bells to awaken complacent people who have become comfortable and convinced that they don’t need God. Jesus calls on them to be as vulnerable as the rest of the crowd; to recognize their own deep need for God’s love.

Because it is in Christ and in God’s loving action for us that our hope resides.

Let us pray…

Holy God,
We give you thanks for your Son Jesus who shows us Your love for all people.
Thank you for redeeming us from our sin and counting each one of us among our saints.
As we follow Jesus, give us a spirit of wisdom and revelation and help us live in response to your love for the whole world.
Amen.

---

[i] Dietrich Bonhoeffer. Cost of Discipleship.

[ii] Heidi B. Neumark. Breathing Space: A Spiritual Journey in the South Bronx (Boston: Beacon Press, 1994), 61.

Lectionary 29C

Lucas 18:1-8

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

Oremos…

Sean gratos los dichos de mi boca y las meditaciónes de nuestros corazónes delante de ti, oh Jehovah, Roca mía y Redentor mío. Amén. (Psalm 19:14 RVA)

La imagen de las viudas que tenemos de las historias infantiles, los cuentos populares e incluso las Escrituras es engañosa. A menudo se les describe como frágiles, débiles, sumisas o pacificadoras. A menudo, como La Llorana o como la viuda de Naín que está en Lucas 7, son vulnerables y lloronas.

Pero el evangelio de hoy pinta un retrato diferente.

Lo que sabemos de la mujer de la parábola o historia que cuenta Jesús es que es tenaz. Ella no se desanima.

Realmente no sabemos mucho más. Debido a que, en las Escrituras, Dios ordena el cuidado de la viuda, junto con los huérfanos y los peregrinos, estamos condicionados a pensar con caridad sobre esta mujer.

No sabemos las circunstancias del mal que experimentó. Usualmente asumimos que ella es justa y fiel. En mi propia imaginación, primero creo que puede ser como una viuda que una vez me contó que alguien la había llamado por teléfono diciendo que era su nieto y que necesitaba dinero. Después de una conversación, afortunadamente, se dio cuenta de que era un truco y terminó la llamada telefónica. Estoy agradecida de que no haya sido victimizada, pero era vulnerable porque no había nadie con ella para ayudarla a distinguir qué era verdad y qué era un truco.

En esta parábola, la viuda le pide al juez que haga algo más que corregir un mal. Mientras que nuestra traducción usa la palabra “justicia” para describir lo que quiere la viuda, la traducción griega es más precisa como “venganza”. Ella fue lastimada y quiere infligir un castigo a su oponente o adversario.

Y Lucas nos dice que el juez solo concede porque no quiere que lo molesten. Pero nuevamente, el griego usa un lenguaje más colorido, diciendo que no quiere un ojo morado. Nos queda preguntarnos si la viuda amenazó con darle un puñetazo en la cara o simplemente lo despreció.

Esto en cuanto a nuestra imagen de una anciana gentil de buen corazón que necesita nuestra protección y cuidado.

Sin embargo, a lo que podemos aferrarnos es a que esta mujer no se rindió. Ella no se dio por vencida. Sabía que el juez tenía poder para impartir la justicia que ella deseaba e insistió en que el juez hiciera lo que solo él podía hacer.

De esa manera, su historia me recuerda a los salmistas que claman a Dios diciéndole lo que saben sobre el carácter de Dios y pidiéndole que sea el Dios del que han sido testigos en la historia. Como en el Salmo 3 cuando el salmista dice:

³ Tú, oh SEÑOR, eres escudo a mi alrededor, mi gloria, y el que levanta mi cabeza.

Y entonces

⁷ ¡Levántate, oh SEÑOR! ¡Líbrame, oh Dios mío! Porque golpeas a todos mis enemigos en la mejilla; quebrantas los dientes de los impíos.

⁸ La liberación pertenece al SEÑOR

El escritor del evangelio Lucas dice que Jesús les cuenta esta historia a sus discípulos para enseñarles “a no desanimarse”. (v. 1) Han estado viajando hacia Jerusalén y él les ha estado enseñando sobre el Reino de Dios. Les ha hablado del sufrimiento y el rechazo que soportará. Pero todavía no entienden, y Jesús sabe que el tiempo se está acabando. Él sabe que necesitarán tener una fuerte confianza en la providencia de Dios, la presencia de Dios y la actividad de Dios en el mundo, cuando llegue la tragedia. ⁱ

Hoy, todos estos miles de años después, enfrentamos diferentes desafíos y decepciones, pero la lección sigue siendo la misma.

Cuando estamos enojados, heridos o desanimados, puede ser difícil ver más allá del dolor que estamos experimentando. Solo en las noticias de esta semana:

vemos familias que apenas comienzan a comprender cómo han cambiado sus vidas por los recientes huracanes;

vemos aumentar el rencor y la división a medida que se calienta una nueva temporada electoral.

y vemos que la violencia se intensifica nuevamente en Ucrania mientras la guerra continúa allí.

Sabemos que la vida es impredecible. Sabemos que no podemos determinar el resultado de los acontecimientos mundiales. Ni siquiera podemos controlar lo que sucede dentro de nuestras familias y comunidades.

Pero debido a que conocemos el carácter de Dios, esperamos en la presencia y actividad de Dios. Sabemos que Dios nos ama con un amor ilimitado y misericordioso.

Confiamos en que Dios llorará con nosotros y nos abrazará cuando estemos heridos. Sabemos que Dios es compasivo y fiel.

Y debido a que sabemos quién es Dios, tenemos confianza en que Dios obrará todas las cosas, especialmente las dolorosas y difíciles, para bien.

Oremos…

Dios bueno y misericordioso,

Te damos gracias por tu amor ilimitado por nosotros.

Continúa acercándonos a ti para que cuando estemos asustados, enojados o heridos, confiemos en que estás con nosotros.

Ayúdanos a no desanimarnos sino a tener confianza en tu bondad y misericordia.

Amén.

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Luke 18:1-8

The picture of widows that we have from children’s stories, folktales and even Scripture is misleading. They are often described as frail or weak or submissive or pacifying. Often, like La Llorana or like the widow of Nain who is in Luke 7, they are vulnerable and weepy.

But today’s gospel paints a different portrait.

What we know about the woman in the parable or story that Jesus tells is that she is tenacious. She does not lose heart.

We really don’t know much else. Because, in Scripture, God commands care for the widow, alongside orphans and sojourners, we are conditioned to think charitably about this woman.

We don’t know the circumstances of the wrong she experienced. We usually assume that she is righteous and faithful. In my own imagination, I first think she may be like a widow who once told me how she had been telephoned by someone saying he was her grandson and that he needed money. After some conversation, thankfully, she realized it was a trick and she ended the phone call.  I am grateful she wasn’t victimized, but she was vulnerable because there wasn’t anyone with her to help her sort out what was true and what was a trick.

In this parable, the widow is asking the judge to do more than only right a wrong. While our translation uses the word “justice” to describe what the widow wants, the Greek is more accurately translated as “vengeance.” She was hurt and wants to inflict punishment on her opponent or adversary.

And Luke tells us that the judge only concedes because he doesn’t want to be bothered. But again, the Greek uses more colorful language, saying he doesn’t want a black eye. We are left to wonder whether the widow threatened to punch him in the face or merely vilify him.

So much for our picture of a kind-hearted old gentle woman who needs our protection and care.

What we can hold onto though is that this woman didn’t surrender. She didn’t give up. She knew that the judge had power to deliver the justice she desired, and she insisted that the judge do what he alone could do.

In that way her story reminds me of the psalmists who cry out to God telling God what they know about God’s character and asking God to be the God they have witnessed in history. As in Psalm 3 when the psalmist says,

³ you, O LORD, are a shield around me, my glory, and the one who lifts up my head.

 And then

           ⁷ Rise up, O LORD! Deliver me, O my God! For you strike all my enemies on the cheek; you break the teeth of the wicked. ⁸ Deliverance belongs to the LORD

The gospel writer Luke says that Jesus tells this story to his disciples to teach them “not to lose heart.” (v. 1) They have been traveling toward Jerusalem and he has been teaching them about the Kingdom of God. He has told them about the suffering and rejection that he will endure. But they still do not understand, and Jesus knows time is drawing short. He knows they will need to have a strong confidence in God’s providence – God’s presence and God’s activity in the world – when tragedy comes.[i]

Today, all these thousands of years later, we face different challenges and disappointments, but the lesson remains the same.

When we are angry, hurt or discouraged, it can be difficult to see beyond the pain we are experiencing.  Just in the news this week:

we see families who are just beginning to understand how their lives have been changed by the recent hurricanes;

we see rancor and division increasing as a new election season heats up.

and we see the violence escalating again in Ukraine as war continues there.

We know that life is unpredictable. We know we cannot determine the outcome of world events. We cannot even control what happens within our families and communities.

But because we know God’s character, we hope in God’s presence and activity. We know God loves us with a boundless and merciful love.

We trust that God will weep with us and embrace us when we are hurt. We know God is compassionate and faithful.

And because we know who God is, we have confidence that God will work all things - especially the painful and hard - for good.

Let us pray…

Good and gracious God,

We give you thanks for your boundless love for us.

Continue to draw us near to you so that when we are afraid or angry or hurt, we trust you are with us.

Help us not to lose heart but have confidence in your goodness and mercy.

Amen.

---

[i] Feasting on the Word— Year C, Volume 4: Season after Pentecost 2 (Propers 17-Reign of Christ) (Feasting on the Word: Year C) (p. 500). Presbyterian Publishing Corporation. Kindle Edition.

Lectionary 26C

Luke 16:19-31

Especially after the difficulty of last week’s gospel in which a rich man commended his dishonest steward for his shrewdness, it is tempting to hear the story Jesus tells this week as either a straightforward parable of judgment or a morality tale about wealth and poverty.

The parable’s description of purple cloth and fine linen, the bosom of Abraham and the chasm separating Lazarus from the rich man is visually stimulating. We can imagine the scene, doubtlessly aided by art and literature that have illustrated the afterlife and the depths of Hades or hell.

One possible interpretation of the parable paints the rich man as, at best, obtuse and out of touch, or extravagantly self-absorbed and indulgent, and at worst cold-hearted and malicious, purposely ignoring the poverty and need on display at his gate. His lack of compassion condemns him.

Another possibility, especially when this text immediately is preceded by our first reading from Timothy that says,

the love of money is a root of all kinds of evils, and in their eagerness to be rich some have wandered away from faith and pierced themselves with many pains” (1 Timothy 6:10)

is that this parable is a cautionary tale as we imagine how the rich man landed on the wrong side of the chasm, having excessively loved earthly comforts.

All of these interpretations usually also assume the poor man – the one called Lazarus – was virtuous. 

However, nothing in the gospel text tells us anything to support those assumptions. We know very little about either man - certainly nothing that allows us to measure their faith,

their piety

or their character.

So perhaps Luke – the only gospel writer who includes this particular parable - has Jesus tell this story for another reason.

Luke tells us that the rich man is tormented in death and when he sees Lazarus with Abraham, he asks them to intercede on his behalf and, when that fails, to go to his brothers so that they will not suffer the same fate.

Now the rich man isn’t especially likeable.

He doesn’t seem able to see Lazarus as anything other than as a servant or a slave – someone who’s there for his convenience and comfort.

He fails to understand either that Father Abraham is as much a father to Lazarus as to himself or that Lazarus is as much a brother as his own family.

He doesn’t recognize Lazarus’ own personhood.

But Abraham doesn’t refuse to comfort the rich man because he’s self-centered or entitled. Instead, he tells him,

“If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.”

Luke was writing some forty to fifty years after Jesus’ ministry took place and he was writing to believers. He knew first-hand the difficulties that the early church faced. He was writing after the deaths of apostles including Andrew and Peter and the destruction of the Temple in 70 CE. He was writing to reassure them and encourage them to remain faithful despite the challenges erupting around them.

Two thousand years later, how often do we forget to listen to the words from God that we have been given?

And how often do we fail to trust in the one who rose from the dead?

Jesus, in this parable and throughout his ministry, points us back to Scripture.

The rich man, and for that matter the Pharisees listening to Jesus tell this parable, would have known the Torah, the Hebrew scripture.

They would have known the five verses in Deuteronomy that form the Jewish prayer called the Shema, an affirmation of faith recited in the morning and evening that says:

⁴ Hear, O Israel: The LORD is our God, the LORD alone.  ⁵ You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might.  

⁶ Keep these words that I am commanding you today in your heart.  ⁷ Recite them to your children and talk about them when you are at home and when you are away, when you lie down and when you rise.  

⁸ Bind them as a sign on your hand, fix them as an emblem on your forehead,  ⁹ and write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates.[i]

And they would have recalled the prophet Isaiah who said:

² Surely God is my salvation; I will trust, and will not be afraid, for the LORD GOD is my strength and my might; he has become my salvation. ³ With joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation. [ii]

And the prophet Jeremiah who declared:

⁷ Blessed are those who trust in the LORD, whose trust is the LORD.  ⁸ They shall be like a tree planted by water, sending out its roots by the stream. It shall not fear when heat comes, and its leaves shall stay green; in the year of drought it is not anxious, and it does not cease to bear fruit. [iii]

They had been given all the words and promises they needed to hear. Nothing Lazarus or Jesus said at this point was going to make a difference.

The rich man had trusted in his wealth and the Pharisees had placed their trust in their own authority, distancing themselves farther and farther from God’s Word and commands.

This lack of relationship with God is what forms the uncrossable chasm that now separates the rich man from Abraham and deprives him of the living water that would comfort him.

 Throughout Scripture we equate water with life whether it is in the creation story where “a wind from God swept over the face of the waters”[iv], wellsprings of water in Bethlehem or Samaria, or the baptismal waters of the Jordan River.

 Water is an earthly sign of what God is doing among us.

Today we are celebrating the ways that water and the Word come together in the sacrament of baptism as we welcome our newest sister in Christ, Charlee, into our family of faith.

Calling baptism “a grace-filled water of life” and a “bath of the new birth in the Holy Spirit” Martin Luther reminds us that, water – the most ordinary of elements - is made holy when it is placed in the setting of God’s Word and command.[v] It is God’s gift and action for us and it is transformational.

Baptized in Christ and united with Him, it is life in Christ Jesus where we “may take hold of the life that really is life” (1 Timothy 6:19) instead of placing our hope and trust elsewhere. Trusting in God’s abundant love and mercy for us, we live out our faith every day, and when we face difficulty and need reassurance, we return to God’s promises to us and God’s gift of Jesus, the one who has risen from the dead, for us.

Let us pray…

Good and gracious God, Thank you for your Son Jesus who rose from the grave for us. Thank you for the gift of your Word written onto our hearts. Thank you for the new life we receive by your mercy and love. Help us by your Spirit to focus on you and trust in you and your promises.  We pray in the name of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

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[i] Deuteronomy 6:4-9

[ii] Isaiah 12:2-3

[iii] Jeremiah 17:7-8

[iv] Genesis 1:2

[v] “Small Catechism”, ELW, 1165.

Lectionary 22C

Luke 14:1, 7-14

I have really wrestled with our gospel text this week. Whether you have been a host or the guest at a function, I expect this text reads at first as if it were advice from Emily Post giving etiquette tips for hosting or attending a dinner party. I remember a colleague joked that these verses make the case for place cards at any social event.

But I am convinced that Scripture is more than a rule book or a set of instructions. Scripture is not a mere collection of morality tales or advice.

Scripture is a living Word, where God is always the actor.

The scene we enter with Jesus is a dinner party. Jesus has been invited by one of the religious leaders to come to the Sabbath dinner at his home.

You may remember that last week we heard a Sabbath story, too. When Jesus healed a woman who had been bent over for eighteen years, one of the religious leaders who witnessed the miracle scolded him for healing on the Sabbath.

It turns out that on this Sabbath, there’s a healing, too, that takes place in the verses our reading skips. Only this time, instead of berating Jesus, the onlookers are silent. No words of protest, shame or judgment are spoken to Jesus or the man he heals.

Luke tells us that the other guests at the dinner party were watching Jesus closely. We are left to wonder:

Were they watching to see what his manners were like?

Or were they watching to see if they could trick him or trap him?

Or is it possible they were curious and so they were leaning in, watching to see what he would say or teach next?

We don’t know but we shouldn’t assume that everyone there was antagonistic.

And evidently, Jesus was watching them, too, because watching how they chose their seats compelled him to tell them the parable, or story, that follows. Jesus boldly addresses the host and his guests.

Imagine being invited into someone else’s home and then changing the invitation list or correcting the guests’ behavior. It feels presumptuous at best.

But maybe that’s the point.

Swiss theologian Karl Barth once said that “Faith in God's revelation has nothing to do with an ideology which glorifies the status quo.”[i]

(pause)

In biblical times, at dinners like this one there would have been a central table and guests would have reclined in seats around it. Everyone would have known their place in the pecking order and if you presumed to take prime place then you could be asked to move down or farther from the center when a more honored guest arrived.

The story that Jesus tells illustrates a different kind of banquet and a different way of being together.

The banquet that Jesus describes isn’t about reciprocity or repayment.

Instead of seeing life as a series of transactions where you do something in order to earn a particular benefit or to win the favor of another person,

this banquet is first

a place of generosity, where we leave seats open for those who haven’t arrived.

It is a place of humility where we don’t think more of ourselves than others.

It is a place of kindness where we welcome those who typically would be excluded.

At this banquet we are all guests and God is the host.

God extends the invitation to us all and removes all the barriers for us to come and participate.

When we gather around the bread and wine,

we participate in God’s banquet for us all.

Whether we are poor in spirit,

or we don’t know how we will pay our bills;

whether we are paralyzed by pain and physical disability,

or by anxiety and depression;

whether we physically cannot move,

or we are immobilized by fear;

whether our eyesight is failing,

or we simply cannot see beyond our narrow view of the world,

God says to each one of us, I see you and love you and you are welcome at my table.

Lutheran pastor Delmer Chilton tells the story of going to a Holy Week breakfast at a big downtown church. It was a Chrism Mass where the clergy had been called together to renew their ordination vows and to eat together.  

Pastor Delmer describes how they drove in early, mostly from the suburban and rural outskirts, wearing their best Lutheran finery, black suits and black shirts and white collars and silver crosses. They vested in the chapel and filed into choir stalls in the chancel where the bishop preached and prayed and gave them communion and they prayed and received the elements with humble hands if not totally humble hearts.

After worship, they moved to the small dining room where they consumed a generous brunch of eggs and bacon and biscuits and cheese grits and sausage balls and fresh fruit and, and, and. . . .

They sat at oak tables covered with linen table cloths and ate off good china with silverware that appeared to have a significant amount of real silver in it. And they had a wonderful time together.

When it was time for Pastor Delmer to leave, he got turned around and lost, but eventually he went down a corridor and found himself in the street on the opposite side of the church from where he had expected and wanted to be.

The morning sun was shining brightly and it took him a moment to figure out where he was, and when he came to himself, he looked down the sidewalk in the direction he wanted to go and saw a long line of folks huddled on the dewy grass, trying to stay warm and dry while waiting for the food kitchen housed in the church’s basement to open.

Pastor Delmer writes that he felt very conspicuous walking along beside that row of folk, dressed in his best suit, carrying his white robe, a silver cross around his neck.

He spoke to a few folks as he walked past them to the corner. As he came to the street and turned to the left, he glanced back and then he looked up and to his right. And what he saw stopped him dead in his tracks. From where he stood, he could see in the floor to ceiling, wall-to-wall windows of the small dining room. He could see the assembled holy people of the area Lutheran churches, smiling and talking; warm, dry, and well-fed. By simply shifting his eyes he could see a significant number of the area’s homeless population, cold, hungry, silent and appearing as alone in a group as they were by themselves.

And he wondered, “On this Tuesday in Holy Week, in this city, at this hour; which group would Jesus be eating with; the clergy or the homeless?”

He says that, really, he wondered, “Which group should I be eating with?”

Or better yet, “Shouldn’t all of us be down here eating with all of them?”[ii]

Our gospel is a Word worth struggling with. Participating in the heavenly feast or banquet isn’t just about Holy Communion. It is about sharing life together with God, with each other and with our neighbors. And, like Pastor Delmer, we should wonder about the people who aren’t at the table with us.

When we look at who’s missing, we may be surprised. It may be the person whose grief keeps them from returning to the pew where they worshiped with their spouse for years; or the person who feels like they have failed God or made a mistake they think is too big to be forgiven. It may be the person who has suffered a tragedy and feels abandoned by God. But it may also be people who are working on Sunday mornings or don’t have transportation or don’t know whether their identity, appearance, clothes or language will mean they are not welcomed.

Jesus tells us again and again that it’s God’s invitation and table and all are welcome here. Come, eat and drink and know God’s abundant forgiveness and love for you.

Let us pray…

Good and gracious God,

We give thanks for your boundless love.

We give you thanks for your Son Jesus who challenges us to see the world and our neighbors as you see them.

Give us confidence that your invitation to the banquet includes everyone

and by your Spirit, help us respond with generosity, humility and kindness.

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

Amen.

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[i] William D. Blake. An Almanac of the Christian Church.

[ii] Chilton, Delmer. The Gospel According to Aunt Mildred: Stories of Family and Faith (p. 69). Brasstown Publishing. Kindle Edition.