Sermon: When the world overwhelms us (June 15, 2025)

Holy Trinity Sunday
June 15, 2025
Proverbs 8:1-4, 22-31
Romans 5:1-5
John 16:12-15

INTRODUCTION

Today, Holy Trinity Sunday, is a difficult one to preach or even talk about, because it is the only Sunday dedicated not to celebrating a particular event in Jesus’ life or the life of the church, but rather, a doctrine. And at that, it is a doctrine that is, by definition, impossible to describe, because as soon as you try to define God, you have limited God to something definable by a merely human mind. So, what our texts do today is present to us some of the ways God works. They each (except Proverbs) mention all three persons of the Trinity. And they paint a picture of some small part of who and how God is. As you listen, don’t try to figure out exactly how to explain God, how the Father relates to the Son, relates to the Holy Spirit. Instead, just let the images wash over you, and sit in them, and imagine how these images of a Triune God can feed you and give you life. Let’s listen.

[READ]

From Grace's book about the Trinity.

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

I’ll be honest: this was a tough week of sermon-writing for me. Some of that was due to a lot of extra commitments both in work and in my personal commitments. Some is physical and emotional fatigue – I am simply overwhelmed and need some rest. And some was watching what has been happening in Los Angeles and around the country this week, and worrying about what it all means for the state of our country. 

All this together led to me being rather out of sorts about the appointed texts for this Trinity Sunday. As I sat down to generate some sermon ideas, I was full of questions and angst about these texts – texts that sometimes feel so comforting, but this week seemed only to agitate me. Like in the Gospel, this Spirit of truth who is supposedly guiding us into the way of truth: how do we know if what is guiding us is truly the Spirit of God, versus our own ego or personal desires masquerading as God’s will? How do we discern that? What is truth, anyway – I know, I know, Jesus is the Truth and the Way and the Life, but what does that really mean? What do we do, for example, when two self-proclaimed Christians fall in two very different places on the same issue, both insisting that they have followed the Spirit guide to that conclusion? (This is also something that happened in one of my interactions this week!) 

Or take the passage from Romans, and these beautiful words about how suffering produces endurance, endurance produces character, character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us. I love these words, and they have gotten me through many-a danger, toil and snare over the year… but they are more helpful in hindsight than they are when we or someone we love is currently suffering. In the midst of suffering, they can sound more like a trite platitude. And what about when hope does disappoint us? When we try and try to hold onto hope, but keep getting knocked down, and hope just slips through our fingers? What then?

Friends, I’ll tell you a secret about being a pastor: it is really hard to authentically preach good news to others, when you are struggling to find it for yourself. 

But, it is my job to do this, to proclaim the gospel to you each week, and so that is what I am going to do. So here is the first thing, that started to lift me out of my angst this week: Jesus said, “I still have many things to tell you, but you cannot bear them now.” What a relief! Some other week, this might be frustrating to me, because Lord knows I want to know all the things, and know them right now! And there is a lot of pressure on us, isn’t there, to have our act together at least most of the time – whether that pressure comes from within or from some external force. We should know things, know how to do things. But this week, it feels like a great load off to know: God does not expect me to know everything or bear everything all at once. So, my friends, if you are feeling like me – overwhelmed by your many commitments, your need for some time off, the demands racing through your head and keeping you from sleep – stop right now and take a deep breath. [breathe] God does not expect you to bear all the things, all the time. There is grace for that. It’s okay not to know just yet.

Now by itself, that gracious word might only provide fleeting relief. But Jesus then goes on. “When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth; for he will not speak on his own, but will speak whatever he hears, and he will declare to you the things that are to come.” I hear two words of good news here. First, even the Holy Spirit himself is not doing it all on his own, like we so often think we have to. “He will not speak on his own, but will speak whatever he hears.” Did you catch that? The Spirit speaks and acts in communion and community with the whole Trinity, and indeed has done so since the very beginning. In Genesis, God speaks with the plural personal pronoun: “Let us make humankind in our image.” In the text we heard from Proverbs today, written from the perspective of “Lady Wisdom,” another name used for the divine, we see the Creator with the Spirit in the form of Lady Wisdom by his side. God doesn’t act alone – so why do we think we should?

The second bit of good news I hear in Jesus’ promise that the Spirit of truth will guide us into all the truth, declaring to us the things that are to come, is this: it is a reminder to me to listen. Like many of you, I’m sure, I often fall into the trap of believing I am a pretty smart and capable person who can figure things out if I just think hard enough about it. But Jesus’ promise here reminds me that – once again, I don’t have to figure it out on my own. The Spirit has already been in conversation with the Trinity about all the things, even the things we are personally dealing with. And the Spirit of truth is trying to share that with us. The only thing stopping me from hearing it, is that I’m not open to receiving that guidance. That’s not to say I don’t want the guidance. I do! But sometimes when I want something really badly I just hold on so tightly and want to force it to be revealed…. And that is not a posture that is open to hearing the gentle voice of the Spirit. As my mom, our cantor today, has tried to tell me when she has, on occasion, given me voice lessons, and I’m working so hard to do everything just right – she says, “Johanna, you’re overthinking it. Relax.” When we are uptight and overthinking, trying to figure out the solution to everything… it is really hard to listen and to hear that Spirit of truth. But that does not mean that the Spirit is not trying to talk to us, and declare to us the things that are to come.

And what are those things to come? Well, we don’t know yet. And that can very easily throw us right back into the cycle of angst I found myself in this week. But there is something we can know, and it comes right after Paul tells us that hope does not disappoint us. He writes, “God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.” God’s love has been poured into our hearts. I hear that, and I hear: you are full of God’s love. God’s love has been poured into you, even in abundance. And so when we might start toward that angsty place of worry, dread, fatigue… we can trust that God is filling up our emptiness with love. We could even stop, breathe, and visualize God doing exactly that – pouring love directly into us. We can trust that God has a never-ending supply of that love, and will never fail to provide. And when we are seeking to hear the Spirit, to see and know where the Spirit guides us, we can trust that if the direction we are headed is the direction of love, especially love in community, then that is most likely the way of the Spirit of truth. Because love, love in community, is the essence of who God is and how God acts. And God is always drawing us into that communion of love.

Let us pray… Loving Spirit of Truth, the world and our lives and struggles so easily overwhelm us, and try to block out your gentle guidance. Remind us to stop, to breathe, to listen, trusting always that your hand is guiding us, and your love supporting us. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Sermon: Diversity reflects the vastness of God (Pentecost, June 8, 2025)

Day of Pentecost
June 8, 2025
Joint service with Bethlehem, Fairport

Note: this is only the first part of the sermon, which I gave. The second and third parts of the sermon were offered by my colleagues at Bethlehem Lutheran Church, Fairport. 

Based on Genesis 11, Tower of Babel

         A loooong time ago, before time even existed, God had this great idea: to create a diverse universe, with planets and stars and sunshine and rivers and trees and animals… and, with humans. That was God’s favorite part of all – humankind, made in God’s own image. God had this beautiful hope that these humans would spread across the whole wide world, filling it up, each showing a different aspect of God’s image. Humans over on that side of the world might make one kind of art, and humans over there would sing in a really special way, and these humans would interact with God one way, and those in another way, and when taken all together, this diverse humankind would reflect God’s own image.

      One day, the humans figured out how to make bricks out of mud. Then they used tar to pile and hold them together to create walls. And those walls could become buildings – tall buildings that made them feel very safe and powerful! And so, they built. They built up and up and up… 

…and consequently, they stayed put. Just like that, God’s idea that the humans would spread far and wide to better reflect the vastness and complexity of God’s image was brought to a screeching halt.

      Well, the humans were clever… but God was cleverer, and knew just how to solve the problem. God mixed up their language! So when they came back the next day to keep building, they found that they could no longer understand each other! Sure enough, once they could no longer understand each other, the humans started drifting away. They filled the whole earth, and many diverse communities arose…

      The Tower of Babel is often framed as punishment for people’s pride. And maybe it is, but stories seldom mean only one thing, and so I wonder if another issue God is dealing with in this story is that the people want uniformity, and God instead pushes them toward diversity. Because uniformity gets us nowhere, leaves us stuck; but diversity is what causes us to grow, and what brings richness to our lives! 

I mean, look around – our God is a God who values and celebrates diversity! Just look at the variety of butterflies, ice cream flavors, and smells in the world. Look at the creative minds that have given us everything from indoor plumbing to the Sistine Chapel, from Pride and Prejudice to space travel. 

The diversity attributed to Babel is not a penalty – it is what allows people to see that God is much vaster than a single mind, language, or culture can grasp. And this is a very good thing! It keeps us humble, for one thing, and also reminds us just how mysterious our God is. God cannot be contained by a single viewpoint. Variety of language and culture is not a problem to be solved. Diversity is not a penalty; it is a value.

Unless… unless we allow it to divide our communities. We’re all too familiar with this reality! Just like those who were building the Silo of Babel, a place where they could remain static and relish in their sameness, we still find ourselves drawn toward expecting others to be, think and act like us, at least in the ways we deem most important. Even churches and other communities that imagine themselves to be “accepting and welcoming of all!” too often mean, “We accept and welcome everyone… except for those who aren’t as open-minded as we are!” I have a friend who says of himself, “I’m not a bigot, except about people who are bigoted!” I appreciate his self-awareness!

So is there a way to be a diverse community that reflects the vastness and mystery of God… while also working together toward the goals of God’s kingdom?

Enter the Holy Spirit on that Day of Pentecost….

Sermon: "That they may all be one." (June 1, 2025)

Easter 7C
June 1, 2025
John 17:20-26

INTRODUCTION:

We’ve made it to the end of the Easter season, though of course we will continue to celebrate the resurrection every day until Jesus comes again – that is, in fact, a day referred to at the stunning conclusion of the Bible that we will hear today from Revelation. “Amen! Come Lord Jesus!” It’s the same plea we make at the communion table, as we look toward the glorious day of Christ’s return. 

Also, on this 7th and last Sunday of Easter, we will find ourselves back in the upper room with Jesus and his disciples on the night of Jesus’ betrayal. Remarkably, we will have a chance to eavesdrop as Jesus prays for his disciples - and also for us (a.k.a. “those who will believe in [Jesus] because of [the disciples’] word”). Can you believe that we would be a topic of conversation among the Trinity?! So cool! So, settle into that, and hear Jesus’ prayer for you.

But first, we will hear from the Acts of the Apostles. Where we left off last week, Paul and Silas had just been led, to their surprise, to Philippi, to plant a church there. Things have been going well so far… but today, they will run into some trouble. So, let’s listen to see what happens next!

[READ]

Alleluia! Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed! Alleliua!

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our risen Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

I’ve been asked to write some prayers for a project of Augsburg Fortress, our Lutheran publishing house. It’s a new resource for parents and caretakers, where parents can subscribe to receive one short prayer and prompt each day – prayers written by someone with kids the same age as theirs, that speak to the messiness and joy of parenting with authenticity and good humor, written by someone who really gets it. 

I was excited but also pretty intimidated to start this. But once I got started, I had a lot of fun! I sat on our St. Paul’s porch and started imagining these parents whom I’ll never meet, and what their lives are like in October (my assigned month) with kids in elementary school. As I conceived of prayers for them and for their kids, an affection for them grew in my heart. I didn’t wonder about the political affiliation of those who would read my prayers, or what mistakes they might have made in their lives, or their parenting style. I only thought of our shared journey, and what word of hope or grace I could bring to us both, through these less-than-100-word prayers. Though I have no idea who will read those prayers, my experience praying for these parents made me feel very close to them.

In his final moments before heading off to his death, Jesus prays this touching prayer, for people he never met: “I ask not only on behalf of these, but also on behalf of those who will believe in me through their word, that they may all be one.” That they may all be one. Doesn’t that prayer just ache right now? Because we could hardly be further from being one these days, as a world, as a country, even as a Church. It’s like we have been primed to look at one another with skepticism and doubt, wondering if any given person is “one of them or one of us.” It’s human nature, isn’t it, that when we feel fear and anxiety, our instinct is to decide upon a shared enemy – often it is the person or group who is newest, or who is most different – because that allows us to find an easy solution. If we just get rid of them (that word, “them,” is the antithesis of “being one”) – if we just get rid of them, everything will be better. 

Apparently, this has always been the way of humans. And that is why Jesus prays for us: that we may be one.

What would that take, do you think, for us to be one? In any given place where division exists, whether families or friend groups or churches or countries, what would it take to be one?

I know what it does not take. It does not take everyone being the same, or even agreeing. God created a world full of beautiful diversity, and if we were all of one mind about everything, things might be easier, but we would miss out on such beauty and depth of perspective – and what a shame that would be! 

So, what does it take? A few things, of course. One baseline requirement, is to see other humans as humans, not as enemies or monsters or scum. As long as we fail to see one another as fellow humans, who experience joy and sorrow and pain just like we do, we will never be one. Beyond that, oneness requires listening with compassion – again, not to agree on everything, but to understand and seek to empathize with where someone might be coming from. And I’d say it requires a level of humility, and the realization that we might be wrong sometimes.

Any of those things would be well worth a sermon. But given Jesus’ prayer, and my experience this week writing prayers for parents I’ll never meet, I’d like to focus on another direction we can take toward realizing Jesus’ hope for oneness, and that is to pray for one another. Pray for unity more generally, sure, but specifically, to pray for whomever your “them” is. Whoever in your mind poses a threat to oneness. Whoever disrupts your peace. And, whoever you need to be a part of your desire, and God’s desire, for oneness.

Maybe it is other parents, known or unknown! Maybe it is teachers and administrators, police, or those in the military. Maybe, or certainly, it is politicians and world leaders, who have immense power to affect the effort toward oneness. Elsewhere in the Bible, we are instructed to pray for “kings and those in high places,” precisely because they have such power and influence and need our prayers no matter who they are! Maybe to work toward oneness, you need to pray for that jerk who left a scratch on your car in the parking lot, or the kid who bullies other kids, or your nosy co-worker, or your ex. Maybe it’s your spouse or kids.

Some of those are easier to pray for than others. And I suspect the ones that are more difficult are probably the ones we especially ought to be praying for in order to get closer to Jesus’ hope “that we may all be one.” So how do you pray for those who are more difficult? 

I’ll be honest, I don’t know the right answer, but here is what I have tried. Sometimes, when I don’t have any nice words to offer, all I can do is hold an image of them in my head, surrounded in light, trusting that God’s light extends also to them, and they are held there. Sometimes, my only prayer is, “God, move in their heart.” Or, “Help us to love one another with the love of Christ.” Or sometimes (and I probably should do this more often, though I frequently resist), I turn it back on myself and pray, “Help me to understand their pain, because right now, all I feel is anger, fear, or hatred toward them. Soften my heart, so I know how to love.”

And that, really, is the outcome of prayer. It teaches us how to love – not to agree, or to like, but to love. It creates connective tissue between our hearts and those of all the “thems” in our lives, those we consider outside of our own circle of oneness. And the more connective tissue that forms, the more threads that come together to create a tapestry, the closer we are to living into Jesus’ prayer, that we might all be one. 

It is such hard work. And sometimes, it is infuriating work, because why would we even want to love someone who executes or celebrates injustice, or who actively works against the safety and well-being of us or people we care about? We would rather condemn than pray for or certainly to love such people! They ought to be punished, not prayed for, and any prayers should only be for them to change their ways!

And yet Jesus’ prayer remains: “that they would all be one.” And so we continue to hold fast to the hope that if Jesus prayed it for us, then it is worth pursuing. Let us add our prayers to Jesus’ prayer – for it is the best hope we’ve got!

For my closing prayer today, we are going to do it. I invite you to think of one person or group of people to hold in mind, known or unknown, someone who you view as outside of or a threat to the oneness for which Jesus prays, at least from your perspective. I’ll give you a moment to think, and then we will hold these people in prayer together…

Let us pray… Jesus, you prayed that we would all be one. But there are so many people and forces and situations that make that oneness seem impossible. Hear us now while we picture and name silently those who seem a particular threat to the oneness you desire, holding them in your light… Lord, we don’t know all that pains them, all their personal hurts, but you do, and you know what they need, so that they might live more perfectly in your way. Grant it now… Gracious God, soften and move in their heart, so that they might see how best to love their neighbor. And soften and move in ours, so that we, too, can better learn to love… Finally, O God, we join your own prayer that we might be one. Help us to seek understanding, to see the humanity in one another, to approach one another with compassion, curiosity and humility, so that we might find ourselves all on your team, striving together for a better world for all. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Sermon: Called by the Spirit into Advocacy (May 25, 2025)

Easter 6C
May 25, 2025
John 14:23-29

INTRODUCTION

Today’s readings are full of visions. In Acts, Paul is going about his ministry the way he thinks it ought to be done, but doors keep closing. So at this point, they are just kind of hanging out, trying to figure out what’s next, when Paul has a vision to go somewhere unexpected: into what is now Europe. The result is the further expansion of the Church into new territory, with the help of another strong woman of faith, Lydia. 

In Revelation, John has a beautiful vision for what will be – an urban garden in which there are no divisions, and the gates are never shut. We will hear the last words of Jesus, the Lamb, and they are: “Come!” As you listen to this reading, try to imagine this vision as he describes it – a tree of life that somehow spans both sides of a river, growing leaves that heal the nations; gates open and ready to receive all who come to them; and abundant light provided by the Lamb himself. 

In the Gospel, Jesus also describes a vision, one of abiding peace. He offers it to the disciples on his last night with them, as he prepares to go to the cross. It is an anxious time for the disciples, in which they are likely already tasting a sort of grief. And it is a powerful and needed message for us, too, in a time of anxiety and sadness and brokenness. As you listen today, I pray that these visions of peace, reconciliation, and divine presence find a way into your own heart. Let’s listen. 

[READ]

Alleluia! Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed. Alleluia!

Grace to you and peace from our risen Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen. 

For most of my youth and 20s, I was not politically engaged. Frankly, politics intimidated me. When I went to seminary at Yale, a lot of my classmates were very politically engaged, which I found inspiring, but I was still uncertain how or whether to get involved myself. Then when I was on my pastoral internship, an opportunity came up to travel to Washington, D.C. for a Hunger Justice Leader Training with Bread for the World, a bi-partisan, faith-based advocacy organization. For a few days, we learned all about hunger at home and abroad, and its underlying causes and solutions (some of which I found very surprising!). We learned about Bread for the World’s particular issue of focus that year – renewing the Earned Income Tax Credit, which was started under the George W. Bush administration – and how it would help hungry families. And we learned how to be effective advocates. On the last day, we were joined by Christians from all over the country for Lobby Day on Capitol Hill. We were all organized into groups according to state (I joined about five others from Florida, where I was living at the time), and were sent off to meet with our legislators. 

My friends, I was terrified. After all that education and training, I still had no idea what I was doing. When we met with the first legislator, I was literally shaking, and though we were supposed to split the talking duties, I was only too happy to let others do most of the talking (hard to imagine me feeling that way, right??). 

But something happened to me in that room. I was overcome with what I can only describe as the Holy Spirit. As I started to say my piece, I felt my back straighten. I heard my tone rise into the same place in my voice that it does when I’m preaching. In fact, the whole experience felt to me like preaching. And it occurred to me, “This is the Holy Spirit talking. And I may not be in the pulpit right now, but I am proclaiming the gospel, because I am speaking up on behalf of the very same people Jesus served and commanded us to serve – the poor, the suffering, those in need.”

It was a transformative moment for me. I came home from that event eager to give presentations on what I’d learned. The next year I went back to grad school and got another master’s degree, in practical theology, and I wrote my thesis on faith-based hunger advocacy as an essential ministry of a Spirit-led Church. I did trainings for Bread for the World, training new advocates. I had officially become: a politically engaged Christian.

During my work on my thesis, I became very interested in texts like the one we hear today from the Gospel, which describes the Holy Spirit as an Advocate. As Jesus prepares to leave this world, he is telling his disciples how to live, and how they will reveal Jesus’ own self to the world after he is gone. He acknowledges how difficult it may be to “keep his word” and his teachings without him there. And so, he says, “The Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you everything, and remind you of all that I have said to you.” That, I thought, that was precisely what I experienced in that office on Capitol Hill: the Holy Advocate itself, teaching and reminding me of what Jesus taught.

In Greek, the word translated as Advocate is transliterated “paraclete,” which literally means “one who comes alongside.” I love that – because who does not want someone to come alongside them in their struggle? Remember, those gathered with Jesus are experiencing a deep grief and anxiety right now. They are scared, as Jesus has just told them he is leaving them to go where they cannot come. And Jesus is promising them, “You are not alone in this. No one knows better than I do that living out my teachings is hard work. But God, the Holy Spirit, the Advocate, is coming in my name, right alongside you.”

I have seen that word, “paraclete,” translated as Helper, Comforter, Counselor… but I really love it as Advocate. When you hear “advocate,” what do you think of? In the secular realm, you might think of a lawyer, someone whose job is to promote the interest or well-being of another, to speak to the courts on their behalf. Politically, you might think of a person who publicly supports or recommends a particular cause or policy – like when I advocated in Washington for the needs of hungry people. In either case, an advocate is someone who uses their voice, power, or position to speak out on behalf of someone in need, taking on that person’s or group’s interests as their own, defending them and working toward a better life for them. 

Imagine, the Holy Spirit does this for us! The Holy Spirit – that is, GOD – comes alongside us in our grief or fear, sees our needs, and then speaks up to those with power for our benefit, defending us against evil, protecting us against sin, working on our behalf to be sure we have what we need. That sounds pretty great to me, and it gives me a whole lot of hope! 

But also know this: that this relationship with the Advocate, sent in Jesus’ name, is not one-directional. You see, Jesus says the Spirit will “teach you everything and remind you of all that I have said to you.” And so, with the Advocate’s presence and work, we, too, are called into that same work. This call happened for the Church as a whole at Pentecost, but it happens for us personally in our baptism, when the Holy Spirit comes upon us. Lutherans don’t believe baptism is just a nice ritual – we believe baptism is effective, that something actually happens, and changes in us when that Spirit comes upon us. We believe that once we have that gift, we are drawn into and embody the Holy Spirit’s mission – to live lives according to Jesus’ teachings, of course, and also, to do the same work as that of the Advocate: to come alongside those in need, to speak out on their behalf for their protection and care, to, as Luther says in the Small Catechism, “help and support them in all of life’s needs.”

How that looks for each individual depends on your particular gifts, beliefs, and situation in life. If you’re a writer, you could write letters to congresspeople or write a letter to the editor for the paper. If you are a protector, you could stand up to others when you hear disparaging remarks about a person or group of people, and defend them. If you prefer personal connection, you could make a phone call, or set up a visit with a legislator in their office. If you like public speaking, go to a City Council meeting and speak up for the needs of people in your community who are struggling. If you are interested in conflict resolution, you could get involved with an organization like Braver Angels, who intentionally puts what they call Reds and Blues into in-person conversation together, to help people build the skills to talk to those who differ, to find understanding, so that we might bridge the divide. 

As a private citizen, you may have a host of things you want to share an opinion about. I’m not here to comment on all that. But as your pastor, I’ll tell you that, as a baptized Christian upon whom the Advocate has descended, who has been changed and empowered by the Holy Spirit: it is always faithful to speak out for the well-being of the poor, the hungry, and the sick. These aren’t merely political issues; they are a faith issues, which appear throughout the Bible. These are the people Jesus cared about, and to whom he devoted his ministry, whom he taught us to care for. He fed people, he healed them, he listened to those on the margins – women, Samaritans, people who were blind or disabled. More, he preached overturning the systems that caused their suffering, addressing the root causes and not just the symptoms. When we listen to the teaching of the Advocate, who reminds us of what Jesus said to us, this is what we will hear: to love and to care in whatever way we are able for those around us who are most in need, and work toward a world like the one described in Revelation, one in which they are no longer in need. 

To be honest, it still scares me, although for different reasons than it did in my 20s. Yet I know that in my effort to speak up on behalf of those Jesus calls us to love, that the Advocate continues to come alongside me and all of us, giving us help, and strength, and comfort, even sometimes supplying the very words we need, and consoling us when we are afraid. That is also a promise of baptism. And it is what allows us to do this hard work every day that we have breath to do it.

Let us pray… Holy Spirit, Divine Advocate, it can be scary to put ourselves out there on behalf of others. Move in us to speak out on behalf of your children who are in need. Supply us the words and the courage, so that we might make a lasting difference for those you have called us to love. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Sermon: Love one another, even the hard way (May 18, 2025)

Easter 5C
May 18, 2025
John 13:31-35

INTRODUCTION

Today, in the midst of the Easter season, we are transported back to the night of Jesus’ betrayal, when he is in that upper room with the disciples. He has just washed their feet, and then, immediately before today’s Gospel reading, Judas leaves the room to go and sell Jesus out. And then, knowing what’s just happened, and that he’s about to die, Jesus will turn to his disciples and give them a “new” commandment: to love one another as he has loved them. Easy to say, difficult to do!

Before we get to the Gospel, though, we will hear a couple other readings, one from Acts and one from Revelation. Both are visions, and it is useful to look at them through the lens of that new commandment Jesus gives, because they can each show us a bit about what it can look like to be a community that is marked by the command to love one another. 

In Acts, Peter has a strange vision, three times. To understand this vision, remember that Jews had a stringent set of dietary and other laws that they followed in order to set them apart as God’s chosen people. Gentiles did not follow those rules, and so until now, they had not been a part of the Christian community. But this vision Peter has blows apart the idea that Gentiles are not included in God’s chosen people. Just as no food is excluded, so also are no people excluded from God’s love.

Revelation gives us yet another vision of what life ruled by the commandment to love can look like – a new heaven and a new earth in which “death will be no more, mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away.” All three texts offer lots of hope for the original audience, and for us today. As you listen, hear that hope offered also to you: hope of acceptance, and love, and restoration, no matter what you are facing. Let’s listen.

[READ]

Alleluia, Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed! Alleluia! 

Grace to you and peace from our risen Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

Here’s how I started my week. After a very full weekend of plans and celebrations, we had not gotten to the grocery store, and by Monday the poor dog was out of food and had been getting by on literal crumbs from her dogfood bag, and whatever the kids dropped (mostly chips) for almost a full day. So, killing two birds with one stone, I used my morning walk to walk to Wegmans, and get little Joey some food. I checked out using Samsung Pay, like usual… but had forgotten that we’d had a credit card fraud incident over the weekend, and the card had been canceled. Frustrated, I left the store in a hurry to get home and get my wallet. As I raced past a woman on the sidewalk, she said, “You look like a woman on a mission! I’ll get out of your way!” I laughed and told her why I was in such a hurry, and how frustrated I was that this was the second time in three weeks that we’d had a credit card fraud alert. She said, “I’ll buy your dog some food.” I told her she didn’t have to do that, but she insisted, pulling me back toward the store. I gushed about how kind she was, how she really didn’t have to, but she was relentless. “All I ask,” she said, “is that you pay it forward.” After we checked out, we chatted as we walked toward our respective homes. She said, “I just think spreading kindness like this is the way to heal this world.” I agreed. When we parted, she wished me all God’s blessings, and I did the same to her. I introduced myself, and asked for her name (Gail), so that I could pray for her by name, and we parted ways.

“I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, so you should love one another.” I knew going into this week that this would be the Gospel reading for this Sunday, and so I had planned to keep my eyes open all week for stories of love – and God delivered at 7am on Monday morning! Gail had said, “All I ask is that you pay it forward,” which sounds an awful lot like, “As I have loved you, so you should love one another.” That same day, I posted some items on Facebook to give away for free, rather than selling them. I called a couple people back who had reached out to St. Paul’s for some financial assistance and I bought and sent them gift cards for food. I prayed for Gail. Small things, each. Yet each one made a difference for someone, brightening their day. Each was an act of love. 

Now, I don’t want to be saccharine about this love commandment. Buying a stranger dogfood or supplying a Wegmans gift card for someone in need – these are certainly feel-good acts for all involved. But we also know that love is not always so easy and not even always feel-good. And truth be told, while I think God is pleased when we do these things, I suspect Jesus’ commandment here is more about the very difficult sort of love. Keep in mind the context of this command: we are back on Maundy Thursday, the day before Jesus’ death. He has just washed his disciples’ feet, including those of Judas, who he knows has just left to betray Jesus to the authorities. Jesus gives this commandment also to Peter, whose three-fold denial Jesus will predict in the very next verses. This is literally Jesus’ dying wish to his closest friends, who will, each one, abandon him in his hour of need. 

In other words, this moment is not a feel-good one. Jesus isn’t, like, suggesting over Sunday brunch that they should all volunteer for an upcoming fundraiser (though that would also be loving). He is commanding, into the darkest moment of all of their lives, into the midst of betrayal and fear and anxiety – that they love one another, even those who would do them wrong. In fact, he says, this sort of love – the kind that isn’t easy and often requires enormous sacrifice (as it did for Jesus) – is how others will know they are followers of Christ. 

Think of that! It is not their, or our, church buildings that will show that we love Jesus, nor our doctrines, nor our diligence in Bible study. It is not our beautiful, sparkling cross necklaces. No, our devotion to Christ will be known by how we love one another: strangers at the store, yes, but also strangers in our land, and people who have wronged us, who scare us, who believe differently from us, and people who live their lives in a way we don’t approve. Love people whom Jesus loved – those who are suffering or struggling, people who are hungry, sick, or in need. Love one another, as Christ has loved you. 

We are all capable of loving people in the way that Gail did at the store – whether it is buying groceries for someone, or holding a door, or simply asking how someone’s day is going and really listening to their answer. We can, and we should! But what sort of more demanding love might Christ be calling you into in this time? 

Could it be finding a way to forgive someone who has hurt you? Could it look like listening to and trying to understand the viewpoint of someone who differs from you, or striving to see the opposing side, or someone whose experience differs from yours, with compassion rather than fear or anger? Could loving one another in this time be not only donating food to hungry people, but also addressing the root causes of their hunger by engaging in advocacy – calling your legislators and urging them, as they work on a budget for the next year of our shared life, to remember the needs of the sick and poor in our community? (If you are interested but nervous about doing this sort of advocacy, by the way, maybe the first step toward this sort of love is to come to the advocacy workshop we are offering on June 7, which will address how such advocacy is a way to live out our faith and our baptismal promises! Sign up HERE.) 

How else might you live out Jesus’ command to love one another, as he has loved us? Could you commit to finding one new way to love one another this week, and going forward?

However it looks, I agree with my new friend Gail: loving one another with the same compassionate, self-sacrificing, humble love with which Jesus loved us is how we can heal the world. It is how we can participate in bringing about the new heaven and new earth described in Revelation, in which mourning and crying and pain will be no more. I believe in that world, believe it is possible, if we do truly love one another with the love Jesus shows us, and furthermore I believe God is calling us to be a part of bringing new life to a world in need. 

One of my seminary classmates recently spoke out in a public setting with diverse clergy from around her state, and with her permission, I’d like to close with her words, which I think so beautifully echo both Jesus’ command to love one another, and that vision from Revelation. She said, “One of the traditions we share is the practice of theological imagination in which we dare to dream of a world we have not yet seen but we believe is possible if we are willing to do our part in creating it – a beautiful reality in which every person has what they need to flourish and thrive. May we continue to practice the discipline of hope that guides our work for a more just and compassionate [state], country, and world. May it be so.”

Let us pray… Loving Christ, when we are suffering or fearful, it can be difficult to reach out to one another in love; we are more inclined to turn inward. Give us the strength to turn outward and love, especially in the midst of suffering, so that we might witness and be a part of the new thing you are doing amongst your people. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Sermon: Women of faith - the Dorcas story (May 11, 2025)

Easter 4C
May 11, 2025
Acts 9:36-43

INTRODUCTION

This 4th Sunday of Easter is always known as Good Shepherd Sunday – we hear Psalm 23 (“The Lord is my shepherd”), and a part of John’s Gospel where Jesus talks about being the Good Shepherd. It’s a beloved and comforting image, and one of the first images used for Jesus, and one worth reflecting on during this Easter season each year. But today, I am drawn to the reading from Acts, which tells the story of Dorcas. I’m drawn to it both because it is Mother’s Day, and a day we celebrate and lift up the particular ministry of women, and more uniquely because the name of Dorcas is kind of a big deal here at St. Paul’s, as it is the name of our women’s circle! And that’s pretty cool, because it turns out, the only time the feminine version of the word “disciple” is used in the New Testament, is in reference to Dorcas. Pretty cool legacy!

So I’m going to focus my attention today on the story of Dorcas, though we will also hear these Good Shepherd texts. So how about this: as you listen to the texts today, think about the women in your life who have modeled faith for you, or shepherded you in your faith. How have they shown you what discipleship looks like? How have they shown you what it means to be sheep who follows the Good Shepherd? Let’s listen.

[READ]

Alleluia, Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed, Alleluia! Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

It was the beginning of the 20th century, 1902. St. Paul’s Evangelical German Lutheran Church, of Pittsford, NY, a rural church made up mostly of German-speaking farming families, was just 35 years old, and had fairly recently built their sanctuary on the corner of Lincoln Street and Morningside Park (now Washington Ave.). The women of the church desired a place where they could encourage a spirit of Christian fellowship among women, a group that could respond faithfully to the needs of the poor in their own congregation, or the community, or wherever aid was needed. In short, they wanted to live out their discipleship, within a community of faithful women, and be devoted to good works and acts of charity. They wanted to serve the world. In September of that year, a society of women was formed with 28 members, and took the name of the biblical disciple, Dorcas, who was known for her good works and acts of charity and notably touched many people in her community, especially the widows, by sharing her gift for making clothes.

Almost immediately, the newly formed Dorcas Society saw a need: they did not have a room large enough to meet in! They held a chicken and ham dinner that raised $155.14, got some additional aid from the congregation, and with $600 in hand, St. Paul’s began construction on the Dorcas Room, which was completed by the Society’s first anniversary. That room would be home base for this group of faithful women as they served the community in myriad ways – supporting missions both global and local, providing clothes (just like their biblical namesake) for people during times of war, hosting meals for those in need, and faithfully meeting each month for devotions and fellowship. When the high school burned down, they offered this room for the students to meet in until the school was rebuilt. When the church embarked on a remodel that would add a kitchen to the building, Dorcas raised some $20,000 toward the project. They donated three leaded glass windows, and helped build our sacristy. Today, 123 years later, the Dorcas Circle continues to meet faithfully each month, and the room their grandmothers made happen hosts myriad church and community groups, from an all-women AlAnon group, to a lace guild, to Bible studies and VBS, to Sutherland High School AP exams. As one history written on the group says, “Our group has always been called the Mother of the church, but a better name today would be the Grandmother.” And another said, “God has always blessed the Dorcas, and we hope there will always be a Dorcas Circle at St. Paul’s.” …

1967 Dorcas Circle

It was the middle of the first century. News of the story and teachings of Jesus was spreading through Greece, reaching Jews, Gentiles, and even Romans, thanks especially to the work of Peter, one of the apostles. It had also reached a successful businesswoman, by the name of Dorcas, or in Aramaic, Tabitha. Yes, she went by both her Greek name and her Aramaic name, because she ran in both circles. You might even say she was something of a bridge-builder between different kinds of people. She was a sought-after seamstress, you see, and known in the region for her skills and gifts. Yes, she had done well for herself and her family, and she could be very proud of that.

But then she heard about Jesus. She was moved by his teachings. The possibility that someone, that even she, could be forgiven, freed from the power of sin, and live without guilt, was incredible to her. She had assumed that guilt was simply a part of life, but these teachings compelled her into a different way of viewing life. And Jesus also taught her a radical way of loving her neighbor – for it was a love that depended not upon success or prestige, but only on the fact that any person in need was a person worthy of love, care, and compassion. 

In light of Jesus’ teachings, Dorcas was moved to use her position, her success, and her particular skills and gifts to serve the under-served around her. In particular, she had a heart for the widows – an often-overlooked segment of the population, and a particularly vulnerable one in a society in which most women depended upon a man for their survival. For these widows, Dorcas gave herself: her time, her resources, her skills, and most of all, her love.

No wonder so many gathered to grieve when Dorcas fell sick and died. She had shared so much love with so many people – and they all came to share that love right back to her. So deep was their devotion to this disciple of Christ, that when she died they immediately called the apostle Peter to come. You see, they heard he was just in the next town over, and that he had recently accomplished a great miracle: he caused a paralyzed man to walk again! Though Dorcas was already dead, maybe, just maybe he could do something for their beloved friend. 

Maybe it was Dorcas’ faithfulness. Maybe it was Peter’s. Maybe it was the deep love and faithfulness of those gathered, or maybe it was God’s. Well, definitely it was God’s! Whatever combination of factors it was, when Peter uttered those words, “Get up!” – she did! She sat upright, took Peter’s hand, and stood up. 

And without skipping a beat, she went right back to using her myriad gifts to serve the Lord. … 

There aren’t many women in the Bible who are of means. Most of the ones we encounter are poor, sick and vulnerable, and many of them are unnamed, identified only by her ailment or by he to whom she is related. But in the book of Acts, we get several named women – stories of generous and successful women who were patrons of the early Church or notable disciples – and the story of Dorcas is an important one. It would be easy to focus in this story on the work of Peter, which is far more dramatic (raising someone from the dead!). But just look at the outpouring of love for Dorcas, the disciple of Christ who is devoted to good works and acts of charity. Widows gather round to tell stories of how her love and faith had touched them. They weep for her, genuine tears. It is such a tender and beautiful scene. You see, they had been touched by the love of Christ, through the work of Dorcas. Dorcas’ story – her life and her death and her return to life – brought many people to the Lord.

Hers is a dramatic story of life coming out of death – the very same narrative we celebrate throughout the Easter season, about the power of God to bring new out of old and life out of death. But this story is not only seen in Peter’s dramatic act. Dorcas brought life out of death by the way she lived, well before Peter came into the picture. She brought life out of death by the ways she used her skills to serve those in need, especially the widows in Joppa. She brought life out of death by the love she shared, by her selflessness, by her devotion and commitment to her Lord. 

Hers is a legacy that lives on among faithful women and men all over the world, including here at St. Paul’s Lutheran Church, through the long ministry of the Dorcas women’s group, and in so many other ways – any time we use our particular gifts to serve those in need around us. It can be easy to think little of our gifts, to imagine them as purely secular, with no possibility to share God’s love through them. But Dorcas did not do that. She had an abundance to share, and she saw a need in her community, and so she used her abundance to serve the Lord, and bring hope and life where there was previously despair. 

That is our call, too. It is a call that has been faithfully lived out by the women of Dorcas here at St. Paul’s, and by the many other members who have been a part of our nearly 160-year history. It is a call we continue to live out – and we do that by always keeping our eyes open for what abundance we may have that can serve and bring life to the fear and lack in our community and in the world. Let us follow in the path of so many women of faith, and especially Dorcas, as we step into that call each and every day.

Let us pray… God of abundance, you have lifted up many women of faith over time. On this day when we celebrate women, help us also to remember Dorcas, and the legacy she has here at St. Paul’s, and move us all to use our particular gifts to serve the needs around us. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Indifference is not love

I recently engaged with someone on Facebook about the men who have been deported from the US to a notorious prison in El Salvador, known for its horrific treatment of prisoners, including torture, despite that a recent Bloomberg report indicated that some 90% of the men we’ve sent there have no criminal record, and did not receive due process – a right guaranteed by the Constitution, not just for “citizens,” but for “people” in our country.

The man I was talking to was not concerned about the situation. “They broke the law by coming here, and there are consequences for breaking the law,” he said. “They are terrorists – I don’t want them here anyway.” I responded that, first of all, without due process, we don’t actually know if they are terrorists. But furthermore, I don’t care what someone has done, no human being that is made in God’s image deserves such inhumane treatment. Lock them up humanely or deport them, I said, if due process has determined that to be necessary. But if I wish torture on another human being because I think they “deserve it,” then I am no better than they are. The man responded, “I’m not wishing for their harm. I’m saying I don’t care what happens to them. I’m indifferent.”

In April of 1999, Holocaust survivor and Nobel Peace Prize winner Elie Wiesel delivered a speech to a joint session of the U.S. Congress entitled, “The Perils of Indifference.” He said, “In a way, to be indifferent to suffering is what makes the human being inhuman…. Indifference is always the friend of the enemy, for it benefits the aggressor -- never his victim.”

On Maundy Thursday, we heard again Jesus’ “new commandment, to love one another as I have loved you.” (John 13:34-35). He said this right after he had washed the feet of his betrayer, and right before his closest friends would abandon him. Later, as Jesus was mocked and beaten, he prayed, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” And on the cross, he promised to the criminal who hung beside him, "Soon you will be with me in paradise." Christ has shown us the cost of loving our neighbor. 

Indifference is not love of neighbor, for as Wiesel says, indifference “benefits the aggressor – never his victim.” Love of neighbor is active, and it extends even to the betrayer, the criminal, the one wielding the whip. Love of neighbor steps in to stop suffering, in whatever way is possible – prayer, certainly, but also making phone calls, donating money or goods, writing letters, going to rallies in support of the vulnerable, having difficult conversations with loved ones, and more. Love of neighbor means not looking away, but striving to learn and understand, so we have a fuller picture of the issue. However it looks, love of neighbor is not indifference. It is action.

St. Paul writes that when one member of the body suffers, we all suffer (1 Cor. 12:26). We witnessed Christ’s suffering on Good Friday; but we are Easter people – people who live, not into the suffering of this world, but into the hope of the resurrection. And as Easter people, we are called to participate in God’s work of redemption. 

I know, it is impossible to ease all the world’s suffering, and I’m as guilty of indifference as the next person; we can only bear so much. But as believers in Christ’s resurrection, and the life and freedom that it promises, we can and must do something. In this Easter season of new life, to what suffering will we refuse to be indifferent? Let us all be so courageous as to participate in God’s work of redemption on behalf of those who suffer.

(This was printed in my congregation's May, 225 newsletter.)

Sermon: Road to Damascus experiences (May 4, 2025)

Easter 3C
May 4, 2025
Acts 9:1-20

INTRODUCTION

Now in the third Sunday of Easter, today we encounter some call stories. And one of them should be of particular interest to us at St. Paul’s, because it is the call of St. Paul himself! Except here he is still called Saul (which is his Hebrew name). As you may know, Saul was not such a nice guy, to start with. In fact, he was actively trying to stop the followers of The Way (early Christians). Today’s story shows us the dramatic way in which Saul encounters Jesus on the road to Damascus, which led to him becoming a missionary, planting churches all over Asia and Europe, and writing much of the New Testament. Quite a turnaround!

In John, we will hear of Jesus’ fourth post-resurrection appearance. The disciples, not knowing what else do to, have gone back to what they have always known: fishing. But remember, God isn’t about doing the same ol’ thing, but rather, doing a new thing! So, Jesus meets them on the shore, and calls them anew into his mission. “If you love me,” he tells eager Peter, “feed my sheep,” showing all of us that when we say we love Jesus, it is implied that the expression of this love is in actively loving those in need of care.

These calls exist still for us today – especially for a congregation who calls itself “St. Paul’s Lutheran Church”! So, hear today’s call stories, as well as the other readings, as calls issued also to you, and to our congregation. Let’s listen. 

[READ]

Grace to you and peace from our risen Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

When I saw that this week’s lectionary gives us the story of the call of Saul (later known as St. Paul), I knew I wanted to write a sermon that would help us enter into the story of Saul/Paul, and discover how his story can help us tell our own St. Paul’s story.

I immediately realized it might not be too easy because, well, Saul was not known at first for his more appealing attributes. When a story starts with, “Saul, still breathing threats and murder…” well, it’s not an obvious entry point to then try to convince your congregation that their story echoes that of their namesake!

But I think as we dig into Saul/Paul’s story, we will see how we might be able to connect with it – as individuals, and by extension, as a congregation. (Going forward, a reminder: when I say “Saul,” that is the same guy for whom St. Paul’s is named. He did not change his name – Saul is his Hebrew name, and Paul is his Roman name. So: Saul = Paul.) 

The story begins with Saul “still breathing threats and murder against the disciples of the Lord.” When we first meet Saul in the book of Acts, he is holding people’s coats while Stephen, the first Christian martyr, is being stoned, and the young man Saul approves of this killing. (Yikes, rough start.) Now, we learn he has been empowered to hunt down other followers of the Way and bring them bound to Jerusalem. As he heads down the path to Damascus, though, Saul is knocked down and he encounters a sudden, bright light, and he hears a voice: “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” The disembodied voice identifies itself as Jesus, “whom [Saul] is persecuting.” Saul is struck blind, and is led by the hand into Damascus, where he fasts and presumably prays for three days. 

It's very dramatic, and because of that it is perhaps difficult on its surface to relate to. But think of this: have you ever been heading down a metaphorical path you believed to right, even godly, only to be suddenly knocked off course in a big way? I know I have! And perhaps that sudden and dramatic disorientation was exactly what was needed to get you to reevaluate what path you were following, and begin discerning where God was leading you instead. When I have had such a disorienting encounter, I have, like Saul, had to rely heavily on others – to lead me by the proverbial hand, or talk me through options, or pray with or for me, or sometimes just to let me weep. I have found myself confused and uncertain, struggling to see clearly what was happening or how to respond to it. I have depended upon prayer and discernment. 

So… can anyone else relate to that? Ever had a dramatic event in your life disrupt your plans, and throw you off your previously chosen path? Ever had to rely on others for direction as a result? Ever thrown yourself completely into prayer, hoping for clarity on where God wants you to go next? And, have we experienced any of this as a congregation? 

Keep thinking about that as we look at this next part of the story. Ananias comes and prays for Saul, laying hands on him and saying, “Brother Saul, Jesus has sent me so that you may regain your sight and be filled with the Holy Spirit.” And then, I love this: “Something like scales fell from his eyes, and his sight was restored.” What a compelling image for that moment when we are visited by sudden clarity about God’s plan for us. Sometimes it does feel just like this, like scales falling and sight or insight or perspective restored. Sometimes it is waking up in the morning and you just, suddenly, know the thing that seemed impossible to grasp just the night before. Sometimes it comes after you have made a tough decision, and the relief you feel is like a weight lifted from your shoulders, and a confirmation that you have, with God’s help, done the right thing.

When have you felt that? When has God brought you the gift of clarity about how to go forward? When have you been affirmed that God has set you once again on the right path?

When has St. Paul’s as a congregation experienced this? 

I can’t speak for your personal stories, of course, but I have some thoughts about how this story has played out at St. Paul’s. Most recently, this makes me think of how we handled the Keymel bequest we received a year and a half ago. We were gobsmacked to learn we would receive such a sum of money. (Knocked off our path and confronted with a great light and the voice of Jesus, you might say!) We consulted with (were led by) a lot of people both in and outside of the congregation. And, through prayer and discernment found ourselves heading down some roads we would not have otherwise found ourselves traveling – like evaluating and donating a million dollars to worthy organizations, or considering hiring or calling someone for a new position focusing on outreach and evangelism, or dramatically increasing our endowment fund to allow us to give away more money each year, and building relationships with many organizations locally and beyond. It has been a road to Damascus experience.

Going back a few more years, the whole world was knocked off their path by the Covid pandemic, blind-sided and unsure of how to go forward. Through discernment, sage advice from wise people, and many people’s willingness to be adventurous and share their gifts, we ended up developing a livestream service which now serves a third to half of our worshiping community on any given Sunday. Our online congregation is made up of members who can’t come in person for reasons ranging from age and mobility to being on vacation, as well as out-of-town family members of our local members, and people who are looking for a church and wanted to check us out online before they come in person. It is a gift to our ministry we never would have had, if not for getting knocked off the path by Covid. Another road to Damascus experience.

Going even a little further back, when your longtime pastor retired, you were prepared for that. You expected it. But then, the first attempt at a call process did not result in a new pastor, and then your longtime music director also left, and many beloved members followed. I wasn’t here for that, but I suspect that left you a bit disoriented, knocked off your path, and unsure how to go forward. Various people and resources took you by the hand and led you through that darkness, prayed with and for you, and suddenly things became clear. You were able to hire a new music director who was beloved, and then call a new pastor (me!), and together we started a new chapter in St. Paul’s ministry. Another road to Damascus.

You see this story plays out again and again – not just for us at St. Paul’s, of course, but for all Christians. That experience, no matter how big or small, on the side of the well-trodden, familiar path – blinded, disoriented, questioning, uncertain – is not a fun or easy place to be. Frankly, it can be discouraging, unsettling, even terrifying. Yet Jesus does not leave Saul alone there, nor does he leave us alone. He may question us in that place, like he did Saul. He may challenge us. He may ask more of us than we think we are able to give. But, he will also provide just what we need to get where we need to go – someone to lead us by the hand, someone to pray with and for us, even the Holy Spirit herself. All along the way, God never leaves Saul’s side.

And when the time comes (three days later, hm, sounds familiar!), suddenly a new life begins for Saul. He suddenly sees the future God has in store for him. First, he is baptized, and receives assurance of God’s presence, forgiveness, and protection for this life and the next. Then he receives some food for strength – not unlike how we receive strength from this holy food we have each week. He spends time with other followers of Christ, in fellowship with a Christ-centered community. And then, he goes out into the world, proclaiming Jesus, saying, “Jesus is the Son of God!” And Saul, Paul, becomes the foremost missionary and church-planter who spreads the good news of Jesus Christ throughout Asia and Europe, and whose letters to these fledgling churches would become our holy scripture. 

And none of it would have happened if he hadn’t been knocked off his planned path, if his plans hadn’t been disrupted. This, I find very comforting, because I am often so annoyed when my plans get disrupted. And yet, it is often those disruptions that are exactly what is needed to bring about the new life God has in store for us and for the world. 

Let us pray… Disrupting God, we do our best to plan our lives and do your will, but sometimes you have a different idea. We thank you for the story of Saul, and for what it teaches us about trusting that when we are set off our path, it might just be exactly what is needed to set us on yours. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Sermon: New life isn't easy (April 27, 2025)

Easter 2C
April 27, 2025
John 20:19-31

INTRODUCTION:

Alleluia! Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed, Alleluia!

Most people know that Christmas is not just one day, but 12 days, but did you know that Easter is not one day, but seven weeks? Yay, Christ is risen indeed!

During this 7-week Easter season, the lectionary gives us readings from Acts rather than an Old Testament reading. This is so that we can see and hear how the Early Church dealt with the news of the resurrection, how the news shaped their faith and their church, and so also how it shapes ours. 

For the second reading we will be hearing this season from Revelation – a book that has a reputation of being sort of bizarre and troubling in its depiction of the end of the world. But really, it is a deeply symbolic book that paints a picture of hope in the midst of despair, famine, conflict, and war. The Book of Revelation shows us how God is present, not absent, how Christ is the self-giving Lamb, and how people are called repeatedly into a circle of praise and worship. All hopeful images, and all appropriate themes for the Easter season!

And finally, during these six remaining Sundays of Easter, we will hear from John’s Gospel. This 2nd Sunday of Easter, we always hear the story of Jesus appearing to his fearful disciples in the locked upper room on the evening of Easter. Since we read Luke’s resurrection story last week, not John’s let me refresh you on John’s version, which happened right before this. In John’s version of the resurrection, Mary Magdalene goes alone to the tomb, and finds Jesus is missing. She runs to tell the disciples, and Peter and the so-called “other disciple” run to check it out, and then leave the scene, puzzled. Mary stays, crying in the garden, and is approached by Jesus, whom she thinks is the gardener, until he calls her by name. Then she recognizes him, and runs to tell the disciples, “I have seen the Lord!” And that’s where today’s reading picks up, in the evening of that same day. You can imagine some of the emotions in that room!  

As you listen, listen as one who is still excited, mystified, and perhaps a little scared about this earth-shattering news of the resurrection. For this news is still all of these things, 2000 years later! Let’s listen.

[READ]

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Risen Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

I mentioned several weeks ago that I had purchased a new coffee table. Well now we have added to the living room a new couch and matching chair. Woo! This was stressful, as it was both expensive, and required a complete rearrangement of our living room – and as soon as we have forked over the $3000-some dollars for couch and chair, I started having doubts and regrets. What if it doesn’t work in the space after all? What if it’s uncomfortable for cuddling with my kids? What if we hate the way it changes the

New couch and chair, new arrangement
(old coffee table!) - more pieces still in the works!

flow of how we move around our living space? We’ll have to change our patterns and habits. Agh! Everything will change! 

I’ve always been this way. I am a visionary, a dreamer, a wannabe risk-taker… but as soon as it looks like something might actually become of my dreams, I come up with all the reasons it probably won’t really work. This is often human nature: we are resistant to change, even as we may long for it – because we don’t want to change our daily routine, we are afraid of the unknown, we prefer to understand how things will work, and we definitely do not want to regret anything.

I imagine the disciples felt some of these things at their Easter evening gathering in the upper room. It’s not that they didn’t believe Mary, about Jesus having risen from the dead (though that may have been part of it). But more, they didn’t know what this would mean for their lives going forward. They were without their beloved teacher, the one they had left everything to follow. He had upset the authorities so much that he had been killed. And now they likely feared that, because they were his disciples, their lives were also in danger. They didn’t know what to do. Furthermore, I’m sure they felt some regret, wishing they had been bold enough to do something to prevent Jesus’ death – I imagine their conversations between Friday and Sunday were full of “if onlys” and “what ifs.” Well now, according to Mary Magdalene, they have gotten what they wanted – Jesus was back, he was alive! – but instead of joy they are filled with fear, such fear, that they have locked themselves away in the upper room. Fear, worry, regret – all feelings we are all too familiar with.

When Jesus then appears to them in that place of fear and regret, everything changes! But even as they rejoiced that Jesus was, indeed, alive, I suspect there was still some fear there. After all, one week later, they are still in that locked upper room! But now, of course, the cause of their fear has changed. Before Jesus appeared to them, their primary fear was death: Jesus had been killed, and as his disciples, they feared that something similar might happen to them. But then Jesus comes to them, and tells them, “As the Father sent me, so I send you.” And now? Now their fear is not only of death, but of this new life that they are being sent into by the Resurrected Christ.

We talk a lot about new life during this Eastertide: all the ways that God takes the old, dead things in our lives and turns them into new opportunities, new beginnings, new perspectives. It seems like pretty good news, right? New things often are. New clothes, new house, new couch, new vocation – all have positive connotations. 

But not all new things are good. In fact, new things can often be frustrating or even scary, because they are unfamiliar and full of the unknown. I mean, we really needed a new couch, but even though the prospect of a new couch excited me, I was also filled with dread that we would regret it, that it was costly, that things to which we’d grown accustomed would have to change, that the new wouldn’t live up the comfortable (if also stained and saggy) ways of the old.

If I can be that cautious and resistant about living room furniture, just imagine how the disciples felt, hearing their once-dead-now-living teacher tell them, “Hey guys. Peace. I’m alive. And, I’m here to tell you, that I’m sending you out to carry on my mission in the world – you know, the mission that got me hung on a cross this weekend. Cool, right? Ok, peace out!” Uh, yeah, I imagine if I were among the disciples, I would have stayed locked safely in that upper room a little longer, too. I would be doubting my own abilities, not to mention my own courage, to carry out this mission Jesus was giving us, doubting whether Jesus really meant to put us in such danger, doubting whether I really wanted to keep doing this, or just get back to my safe, familiar life from before, which might not have been perfect, but was at least known.

But that’s the catch about Easter, you see – after the resurrection, there is no going back to your safe, familiar life. With the resurrection, everything changes – and not just the furniture! Life can no longer be the same. Death and fear are defeated, and life becomes new. 

Okay, so what does that new life look like? Jesus says to the disciples gathered there, “As the Father sent me, so I send you.” In other words, that new life looks like living the way Jesus commanded and demonstrated throughout his ministry: like, humbly washing the feet of one another – even those who would betray, deny, or abandon you. Like, reaching out to and standing up for those on the margins, like listening to women, and reaching out to the outsider, and feeding the hungry, and freeing the prisoner, and liberating the oppressed. New life looks like forgiveness, and like self-sacrifice. It looks like striving to be in relationship with one another even when it is difficult, and bringing light into the darkness, and proclaiming life into the places where stinky death tries to win. 

It’s a tall order, even an impossible one. Or it would be, if it not for the other gifts Jesus offers to the disciples locked in the upper room. First of all, Jesus offers peace. Three times in this passage we hear this from Jesus: “peace be with you.” What comforting words for those of us who find the prospect of new life to be terrifying – especially a self-sacrificing, world-order-turning, risky, humble life of service. Perhaps as the disciples consider what this new life will mean, they are thinking, like I did about my new couch, “Wait, are we sure about this? What if it doesn’t work? What it is too big a task for us? What if it’s uncomfortable? What if we hate the way it changes the flow of how we live our lives? We’re going to have to change our patterns and habits. Do we really want to do this?” And to this fear of change and regret, Jesus offers, three times, “Peace be with you.”

And secondly, Jesus offers them the gift of the Holy Spirit. “He breathed on them,” John tells us, “and said to them, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit.’” With this gift, Jesus offers to his disciples the very same gift that God offered humanity when he breathed into Adam’s nostrils and made life come about. God’s breath has this kind of power: the power to bring to life, to comfort, to support, to sustain, to encourage, to empower. Christ breathes on his disciples – and on us – and says, “Receive the Holy Spirit.” And suddenly we have the power to fulfill his mission, to do his work in the world, despite what fears and hesitations we may have. We have what we need. 

Peace be with you, siblings in Christ. As God the Father sent Christ into our world and our lives to show us what love and service look like, to show us that life will always overcome death, so Christ now sends us to continue bringing this message to the world, offering us peace in the midst of our fear, doubt and regret, sustaining us with his breath, and empowering us, always, with the Holy Spirit.

Let us pray… Risen Christ, breathe your empowering breath on us as we continue to walk into resurrected life. Come to us in our fears and our doubts and offer us your peace, and show us how to live out your gospel in all that we do. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Sermon: Easter reflects real life (April 20, 2025)

Easter Sunday
April 20, 2025
Luke 24:1-12

by He Qi

Alleluia! Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed! Alleluia! Grace to you and peace from our risen Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen. 

My daughter recently asked me what my favorite holiday is. After thinking a moment, I said, “Easter. It’s pure joy. Beautiful flowers, great music, everyone comes to church in their nicest clothes. It’s just lovely.” But even as I said it, I knew it wasn’t true – that is, I do love Easter, but it is not pure joy, as a careful reading of Luke or really any of the Gospels will tell you. In fact, in Luke’s telling of the resurrection, there isn’t really any joy at all!  Reading through Luke’s account, here is what I do see: the women are perplexed and terrified, and finally remembering and sharing; and from the 11, we get distrust and lack of belief, as they dismiss the women’s story as nonsense; and from Peter, willingness and amazement, but not joy. There’s not a joyful person in the whole lot of them!

Of course, I can’t say I blame them. Even though Jesus told them he would die and rise again, actually to see it happen is something else altogether! Plus, they don’t actually see it happen – Jesus makes no appearance on Easter morning; he won’t show up until later that evening. It’s hard to believe something so out of the ordinary with so little evidence to go on.

But all of this, and the fact that the first Easter isn’t pure joy, makes the day and this story all the more special to me – because the world we live in is never pure joy either. It’s full of grief, and anger, and mental illness, and addiction, and estranged family members, and conflict within and between both families and nations. All those feelings I mentioned above? Those are our real lives. We are perplexed that anyone could possibly say or think or do the things they do. We are terrified about the ramifications of actions and decisions of those we disagree with, especially when those people are in positions of power. We share things we know are important, only to be dismissed and told that our deeply held convictions are nonsense. We are distrustful of each other, and of authority, and the press, and refuse to believe anything that pushes against our values. And, sometimes, like Peter, we are amazed in what I think might be a good way – a way that opens our hearts to the possibility of hope, and something more than our jaded or grief-stricken world view had previously allowed. 

In short: the Easter story is not joyful, but it does reflect real life, in all its complexity and nuance. 

So then, how do we approach this story – a mind-blowing story from 2000 years ago that reflects our current human condition while at the same time being completely apart from anything we have ourselves witnessed? How do we approach it?

I offer you three words of caution, and three suggestions. 

First, resist trying to define or explain Easter. We love to know things, right, and we tend to trust facts and certainties and verifiable data. But the resurrection defies that effort. To define Easter is to miss the mystery and potential of what God is doing. Just like the twilight “early dawn” hour in which Luke places this story, which is still a little fuzzy but is yet full of what could be – we must approach the resurrection as the mystery that it is: full of potential and uncertainty. Come to it not with a fact-seeking mind, but with a wondering mind. And don’t approach it just once, but again and again. Which of the many emotions and experiences resonate with you today? Is it the sadness and sorrow? The fear? The perplexity? The disbelief? The amazement? Enter into the story through that emotion or experience, and let the good news speak to it: the good news that God is working a new thing, a mysterious thing that we cannot yet, in this twilight hour, fully understand, that we may never understand this side of heaven. Approach the resurrection like a mystery, not a news story. 

Second, do not assume that Easter is over once you leave the church building or turn off the TV or computer today. It is not finished once the last egg has been found and the ham has been packed up and put in the fridge. No, Easter is a call to action. We know all too well that the wounds and sorrows and loneliness we may or may not have left at the door when we came to church today still remain when we walk out that door again. They did for those first witnesses, too. Jesus was raised, but his wounds remained. The brutal and corrupt empire – the one they all thought Jesus would overthrow – was still in power. The disciples still lived with the guilt of having abandoned Jesus in his hour of need, and who knows what other pains they carried. Maybe some of the same ones we do. 

And yet now, they carry them with the knowledge that God is redeeming and restoring the world. They carry them with the knowledge that as heavy and thick as fear and death and grief and endings can feel when we are in the middle of enduring them, they are not the end of the story. And so, Easter is a call to action, a call which asks us, “And what role will you play in God’s story of redemption?” In what ways will you live to bring about healing and encouragement, justice and kindness, in this world that is still so troubled? Jesus didn’t die and rise to make all those things go away; Easter isn’t a magic cure-all for whatever ails us. No, the resurrection is a promise that enables us to persevere through death, just like Jesus, and keep bringing life into a world so riddled with death. And it is an invitation to be a part of that work. So, how will you participate in the Easter story? How will you work with God to bring about redemption?

And that brings me to the third thing that Easter is not: Easter is not an anomaly, a once-in-a-lifetime thing, never to be repeated. I mean, in one sense it is – that particular moment in time in which the incarnate God was raised from the dead will not be repeated. But Easter is better thought of as an icon of the work that God is doing, has been doing, and will continue to do, in and around us every day. There will always be pain and sadness – and God will always be there with us in it. There will always be fear and perplexity and distrust – and God will always be there saying, “But I am trustworthy.” There will always be death – and from it, God will always bring about some form of new life.  

And this is why today, when we celebrate Easter, it is a joy. Maybe not pure joy, for we are human after all, and experience all the diversity of emotion that goes with that. But Easter is joy nonetheless, because it assures us that whatever suffering we are enduring, it is not the end of the story. When we experience the betrayal of Judas on Maundy Thursday; when we feel guilty for having failed to stand our ground like Peter on Good Friday; when our friends abandon us in our hour of need; when we are mocked, or when we are the ones doing the mocking; even when life and light itself seems to be sealed up in a tomb – all of this is along the road to redemption, to resurrection, to new life. None of this is enough to defeat God, or keep God from victory. That is the iconic story that is told on every Easter, and on every day in between Easters: that death does not win. God does.

I don’t like having to live through Good Friday any more than the rest of you. It is all the emotions we have already mentioned and then some. We doubt, and cry, and exclaim in disbelief, and sometimes shout in anger and exasperation. We wonder – “when will this end?” and too often, it takes a lot longer than three days to get to the end. Yet I am encouraged by this iconic Easter story, which assures us again and again that after the night comes that twilight hour, when new life starts to come into view. We may not yet see it clearly or at all. We may still be perplexed and afraid of how the world has shifted beneath our feet. And when someone points it out, we may not even believe it at first. But eventually, our hearts become more willing to venture into the empty tomb. And they crack open enough to be amazed that once again, God has come through, and brought out of the worst of fear and death, the promise of a new and glorious life. 

Alleluia! Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed! Alleluia! 

Let us pray… Risen Christ, we come today with so many emotions in our hearts about so many things. Speak to us exactly where we are at, and bring our aching hearts into a place that is ready to receive the good news of new life. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.