Sermon: What the kingdom of heaven is like (Sept. 20, 2026)

Pentecost 17A
September 20, 2026
Matthew 20:1-16 (starting one verse earlier)

INTRODUCTION:

Today’s readings address one of the most basic values of humanity: fairness. From as early as nine months, humans demonstrate a sense of what is fair and what is not. And today’s readings will challenge our understanding of fairness. In Jonah, we’ll hear the lesser-known part of the story – Jonah has already been eaten and burped back up by the large fish (has hopefully showered), and has preached his short sermon about repentance to the people of Ninevah. Now he sits back to see God’s retribution on those sinful Assyrians, Israel’s enemies. Frankly, Jonah is looking forward to it! They deserve punishment! But God changes God’s mind… and Jonah is not impressed! 

The parable of the workers in the field definitely challenges our sensibilities about fairness, as people who work one hour get paid the same as those who work 12. Our gut will say, “That’s not right!” But notice, Jesus doesn’t introduce the parable with, “This is how to run a business.” He says, “The kingdom of heaven is like this.” 

In both stories we will see what it looks like, as Paul writes in Philippians, to “live a life worthy of the gospel” – and it might not look like our gut thinks it should! As you listen, notice how these stories make you feel – do they offend you? Do they make you feel a sense of justice, or frustration? Imagine yourself in the position of Jonah, of the 12-hour workers, and also, of the 1-hour workers. How do you experience the story in their shoes? Let’s listen.

[READ]

The Red Vineyard, Van Gogh

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

When I was a kid, we had a copy Marlo Thomas’s book, Free to be…a Family. One of my favorite stories in it was about a family with three kids. The parents were committed to treating the kids fairly. The first was born, and they named him George. Then they had a little girl, who, in the name of fairness, they also named George. Their third child, another boy, was named… George. All three were given the same weekly allowance. They dressed the same. When one celebrated a birthday, they all celebrated. When one of the kids broke their wrist, they all got a cast. Eventually, the kids started to realize that this effort at being completely fair was not fair at all. They talked to their parents about it, and adjustments were made. The kids do, however, all decide to continue going by their shared given name of George. 

It’s a cute story, and it was the first time I remember my simple, child’s understanding of fairness being challenged in a way that really stuck with me. 

Jesus’ parable, though, is next level. Like last week’s parable, this one leaves us feeling offended, troubled, even shocked, because it challenges our sensibilities. We are conditioned to see the world in this particular way: that you do work, and are rewarded for it. You do less, you get less. This has worked well for societies for much of human history, as it motivates people to work. After all, why would anyone even bother to work hard if they can get the same reward for doing less? 

Jesus’ famous line, “The last shall be first and the first shall be last,” bookends this parable, so we ought to know right up front that what he’s about to say is really going to mess with our understanding of how things ought to work. He begins the story by saying that the kingdom of heaven is like this landowner… and yet, even though we know the kingdom of heaven is topsy-turvy, we are still shocked by his so-called “generosity.” But why would we still expect the landowner to operate by the same principles as our broken world, full of pain and war and hunger? 

Because we are just that conditioned to think that way. And yet, if we pull out of this parable for a moment and just consider what we expect the kingdom of heaven is like (rather than what a business is like), we might not be so surprised after all. For example, in the kingdom of heaven, which is not necessarily just an afterlife but is a place where God is the ruler and everything functions according to God’s will – in the kingdom of heaven: 

• Is anyone hungry?

• Does anyone have to work three jobs, and still struggle to make ends meet?

• Is anyone homeless?

• Are there rich and poor, and different economic and social classes?

• Do people look down upon other people, or say they are less worthy, less deserving, or are not equal to them?

No. I think that in God’s economy, under God’s reign, everyone has what they need. As it’s described in Revelation, “They will hunger no more and thirst no more… and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.” That’s what the kingdom of heaven is like!

And in this story, that is what the landowner, who is like the kingdom of heaven, is like. He gives to all the workers one denarius, which is what was understood to be a wage that covers one’s daily needs, one’s “daily bread” if you will. It’s not extravagant, but it is enough. For him, the question is not, “Did they work enough hours to deserve a day’s wage?” In God’s economy, the question is, “Did everyone get paid enough to feed their family?” 

It sounds good in theory. But from our deeply embedded worldly way of seeing things, this is troubling – because if someone can get paid the same whether they work one hour or twelve, what’s to keep everyone from doing less next time, knowing they’ll get paid anyway, right? 

I remember once in a Bible study, I suggested that God’s forgiveness and grace might be big enough that even someone like Hitler could be saved – that even if there is a hell, God’s grace is so big that no one is there. Someone asked, incredulous, “Well then what’s the point? What’s the point of trying to be a good person and do the right thing and live a Christian life, if everyone is going to heaven anyway?” 

Well? What do you think? If God’s reign is such that even the people who only work one hour get everything the people who worked all day get… then what is the point in doing more than the bare minimum, not only practically but on a cosmic level? What’s the point?

The theological answer I think I gave that day, like a good Lutheran, was that we don’t do good works in order to be saved, but rather, because we already are saved. Good works spring naturally out of our saved nature! And I stand by that. But also, we strive for such a world as Jesus describes because life here and now is better when we do, for us and for others. God’s order doesn’t make sense to our human ways of operating, given the formation we have in a fairness and reward-based economy, because God’s grace is inherently unfair. Grace is, by definition, a gift we do not deserve and did nothing to earn. The economy Jesus describes here is not what humans envision, but what God envisions – and if God designed it, we know it is good. So, when we strive for that goodness, our lives and the lives of our neighbors are better, and more whole. 

Now, to be clear, I’m not advocating for a communist government here. I know that practically speaking, that doesn’t work in the real world. But even within capitalism, the question that guides Christians who strive for the kingdom of heaven here and now should not be, “Do they deserve that?” If we are to live by the rules of God’s economy, the question should be, “Do they have what they need to live, to be healthy and whole?” And if the answer is no… then what can we do about it?

When we are baptized, we are given citizenship in God’s kingdom, the kingdom of heaven – this kingdom that Jesus describes. That means we subscribe to God’s way of doing things, even amidst the world telling us to view it otherwise. Many of us were baptized as babies, when we didn’t know better (or rather, when we lived in such a way that mirrored this economy, because don’t we all try to give babies exactly what they need when they need it, not as a reward but as a gift, even though they have done nothing to deserve it besides being cute?). 

But in confirmation, once we have learned more about both God and the ways of the world, young people have a chance to stand before the congregation and say, “I still want to do this. I still want to strive for grace, and love, and compassion, over contempt and division and a reward-based economy in which some are more worthy than others. I still choose love.” 

Today, Emma will reiterate the promises made at her baptism, and she will own them for herself: “to live among God’s faithful people, to hear the word of God and share in the Lord’s Supper, to proclaim the good news of God in Christ through word and deed, to serve all people, following the example of Jesus, and to strive for justice and peace in all the earth.” In short, she will promise, to the best of her ability and with God’s help, to live according to the teachings and guidelines of the kingdom of heaven that Jesus lays out, here and throughout his ministry. 

It won’t be easy. And that is why we, her church community, will also gather around her both physically and with our prayers. We will pray for her, that by God’s help and guidance, she will find both the will and the way to live into God’s mission for her. 

And as we do that, we will also remember that we, too, are called to live into that mission that we share: to serve all people, following Jesus’ example, to strive for justice and peace in all the earth, to live with an eye always toward love, mercy, grace and compassion toward our neighbor. May the God who has given us the will to do these things also graciously give us the strength and compassion to perform them. 

Let us pray… Gracious God, we don’t always understand your ways, but we know that they are good. Help us, even when the world would say otherwise, to live lives worthy of the gospel. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen

Sermon: Forgive us our sins as we forgive (Sept. 13, 2026)

Pentecost 16A

September 13, 2026

Matt. 18:21-35; Psalm 103:1-13

INTRODUCTION

In last week’s readings, we dealt with how to hold one another accountable in a faithful community, dealing with the inevitable situation in which one person wrongs another. Today’s Gospel reading is right on the tails of that conversation. Peter, wondering just how far to push this, asks, “Ok, but how many times do we have to do this? How many times should we forgive? As many as seven?” And Jesus will open up the depth of God’s forgiveness, with his famous formula: “not seven, but seventy-seven times.” In other words: don’t ever stop.

This depth of forgiveness is nothing new to people of faith. Our first reading shows this. Today we’ll hear the stunning conclusion of the Joseph saga. You know this story – Joseph’s brothers, the sons of Jacob, are jealous of him and his technicolored coat, and they sell him off into slavery and pretend he is dead. He has a rough go of it in Egypt, but eventually ends up as Pharaoh’s second-in-command, having used his gift of dream interpretation to save Egypt and surrounding areas from a seven-year famine. Now his brothers have come crawling to him for help, not knowing it is Joseph – until he reveals himself. Assuming there is no way Joseph will ever forgive them (and really, would you?), they try one more time to fool him, but Joseph won’t have it. Instead, he forgives them, telling them that what they intended for evil, God used for good. 

We have all been in a situation of either needing to ask or offer forgiveness. Neither position is an easy one. As you listen today, think about your own experiences with forgiveness, and consider what light today’s lessons might shed on the situation. Let’s listen. 

[READ]

    “If my brother or sister sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?” 

Dear Peter, always so eager to please. The more I preach, the more affection I grow for this impulsive and flawed disciple, and the more of myself I see in him. I imagine what must be going on in Peter’s life that he thought to ask this question. Has he just had a fight with his spouse, because she has done that thing again that he just can’t stand and for goodness’ sake why won’t she stop it already?? Have and the Sons of Thunder gotten under his skin, with their ridiculous antics? Has he already started to wonder if maybe Judas Iscariot has some different priorities than the rest of them, and when Peter brought it up to him, Judas said something pretty hurtful and Peter is licking his wounds about it? Who has sinned against Peter, that made him want to ask this question?

Whatever it is, I really believe that Peter asks this question of Jesus in good faith. Maybe he would prefer not to have to forgive someone who has wronged him at all, so the fact that he is even willing is remarkable. How many of us hold grudges that we struggle to let go? I can think of a few folks who have hurt me, folks who I thought I had forgiven until suddenly I start griping about them all over again and I think, “Hm, maybe I haven’t really let that go like I thought I had.” And I see Peter looking at the situation and thinking, “You know, I’ll betcha Jesus is going to say I should not only forgive, but do it more than once. That seems like a Jesus-y thing to say. I know: I will overshoot. I’ll ask if maybe… seven times is enough – because seven is a whole lot, the number of completion even. Oh yes, seven, this will impress Jesus, and show him that I’m really starting to get what he’s been trying to teach us.” 

        Well, once again, Jesus has something more to teach Peter, and us. “Not seven, I tell you, but seventy-seven times.” (Ah, I feel crushed on Peter’s behalf!) What Jesus is really saying here, of course, is, “It’s never enough times. There is not a point at which forgiving is done. So just keep doing it.”

Then to hit home the point, Jesus tells this parable, one which should leave us feeling outraged! A man is forgiven an exorbitant amount – it might as well be a gazillion dollars, for there is no way that the 1st century equivalent of a middle class guy with a family to support is going to ever be able to pay it back. It’s millions of dollars! He and his family are about to be sent to jail, but the man begs for mercy, promising to pay it back. He will not; it is impossible. And in a moment of sheer grace, the king decides to cancel the debt, and sends him on his way. 

        Oh, how I wish the parable ended here! Wouldn’t that be a nice analogy for how gracious God is with us? A perfect illustration of how Jesus died for all our sins, and so our debt of sin is completely erased, and we can live in spiritual freedom for the rest of our days? 

        But human nature is not so clean-cut as that. For the man leaves that place, and immediately finds someone who owes him money, a much more reasonable amount, like a few thousand dollars. He violently asks the debtor to pay, and when he can’t, when the debtor begs in the same way the servant has just done before the king, he has the man thrown in prison. 

        By now, the reader should be utterly aghast. How ungrateful this man is! How absurd to have received a life-changing forgiveness of debt, to have mercy shown to him that he did nothing to deserve, and then to turn around and be utterly unmerciful to his neighbor! 

        To me, this moment, when we all feel aghast at the absurdity of the man’s behavior, is the moment of truth. For this may be just a story, but we live this reality every day – and we are, I hate to say, often not the good guy in this story. We are the ones who have been forgiven massive debt – our sins wiped clean each day – and yet still go about our lives often oblivious, ungrateful, unmerciful, and demanding of others to pay us what they owe. We are the ones who struggle to forgive. 

        Now, that’s not true all the time. I know sometimes we humans are able to forgive, even incredible wrongs, and we are grateful, and we do recognize the gifts we have been given, even gifts we do not deserve. But there is also a reason that, when the disciples asked Jesus to teach them how to pray, Jesus included this phrase: “Forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors.” Lutherans usually use the word trespasses or sins instead of debts, but same idea: we pray that God would help us to forgive others, just as we have been forgiven. 

        Or what if it means, “Forgive me in the same fashion, by the same measure, that I forgive others.” Oof, how would that go for us? It reminds me of a convicting reframing I heard posed about this text. When Peter asks, “How often should I forgive?” Jesus answers, “Well, it depends. How often do you want God to forgive you?”

        The next part of the parable is the part I wish wasn’t there. The king finds out about the ungrateful, unmerciful servant, and is rightfully outraged. “Seriously, man?” he says. “I forgave you all that debt, and you turn around and you can’t even do a fraction of the same? I was merciful to you, and you couldn’t show any mercy at all to someone else?” I don’t like it because it sounds like God’s grace is conditional, and forgiveness has strings attached. “I will only forgive you if…” I don’t like it because the punishment is so very severe – not only is the servant jailed, but now also tortured until he can repay, which of course will be never. That is… tough to swallow. It makes me worry: is that truly how God deals with us?

        I don’t like it, but it is important that this part is in there, too. Because not forgiving, not having mercy, not treating your neighbor with compassion is a sort of torture. As author Anne Lamott quips, “Not forgiving is like drinking rat poison and waiting for the rat to die.” The unmerciful servant is tortured by “the jailors” – and that is how all those resentments and grudges that we hold onto can feel, right? We are held captive by them, and cannot free ourselves. We cannot shake them. And as long as we cannot shake them, we also cannot be free.

        I think this parable is intentionally extreme to show us just how seriously Jesus takes this teaching. The extreme nature of it is meant to shock us, to shock us into recognizing the transformation that is so needed in our own hearts. It urges us to look deep within in order to see what jails us, what tortures us by its relentless presence, by the real estate it is taking up in there. 

        Forgiving once is hard. Forgiving seven times, to Peter’s credit, is harder. But forgiving seventy-seven times is sometimes what is necessary, in order to continually wipe clean the junk that would try to keep us from living fully into the life that God wants for us – a life in which we are not held back by fear, resentment, anger, and grudges, and so we are able instead to extend love, mercy, and compassion to our neighbor in need. 

        Jesus does this for us. He wiped the slate clean in our baptism. He wipes it clean every time we come to him, ready to repent. He wipes it clean each time we come to this table and hear those words, “Given for you.” He does not want us to suffer – that is why he shows us a different path. And when we fall off that path, he guides us back, showing us again that even though we are sometimes unmerciful and ungrateful, God is, as the Psalmist says, “full of compassion and mercy, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love.” 

        Let us pray… Merciful God, we struggle to forgive, to let go of fear and grudges. Help us to forgive others as you have forgiven us, to trust in your love and compassion, and to live into the freedom you have won for us. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy spirit. Amen.

Sermon: Practical guidance on managing conflict (Sept. 6, 2026)

Pentecost 15A
September 6, 2026
Matthew 18:15-20

INTRODUCTION

Here’s a fun fact about Matthew’s Gospel: his is the only Gospel that talks about the formation of the Church, and Jesus’ passing his authority to the disciples. Remember a couple weeks ago, Jesus told Peter, “On this rock I will build my church?” Matthew is the only one who includes that bit. And today we get another example of this interest in the Church, as Jesus shares an important teaching about managing conflict in the Church (everyone’s favorite topic to avoid!). Seldom do we get such straightforward instructions from Jesus, and yet, when the opportunities come to follow Jesus’ sage advice on conflict management, we often do not take it.

Our readings today are all about how we conduct ourselves in the face of conflict and wrong-doing. I’m certain there is something in here for everyone today, so listen carefully to what the Spirit is saying to you this day. Let’s listen. 

[READ]

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

One of the best things about having siblings is that you get to learn from a very early age the art of conflict management. When my kids were ages 1 and 2, it usually involved Grace swatting at her brother and saying, “No, Isaac!” when he was doing something she didn’t like. That’s 2-year-old conflict management. By the time they were 3 and 4, and both had developed a sense of both personal agency and justice, conflict management turned into a blaming game: “He bit me!” “Well, she pushed me!” “Well, he wouldn’t let me play with that toy!” Even when I would then enter with my motherly wisdom and suggest maybe everyone had a part to play in the conflict, and perhaps we could all apologize for something… it quickly reverted back to a game of chicken and egg blaming, seeking to figure out who had offended first and worst. That is preschool conflict management. 

Surely by the time we get to be adults, we are better at this, right? And definitely we in the church, in a place that gathers around the promise of love and forgiveness – we have found a way to be in a community without conflict, right? 

Ah, not so. Anyone who has been around the church – or any community, really – knows that conflict is very much a part of being in any community. Community and relationship offer us many gifts, but it is also very hard work, and no one is immune to conflict: not couples who are madly in love, not best friends, not extended families, and no, not even the church. We may not swat at each other and say, “No!” (or maybe we do!), but we still lash out at each other, and often in more painful ways. We may not hit and bite and cry for a mommy-intervention, but we do triangulate and gossip, and we attack with our words, intending to wound, and we assume we are right and they are wrong, and we point fingers rather than noticing our own part in the brokenness. Or sometimes, as I know I am often guilty of, we just shove away our hurt feelings, until finally one small thing sets us off, and we can’t take it anymore and start yelling. 

Conflict management may change form as we grow in years and maturity, but it is always difficult. That is why Jesus offers us this bit of instruction on how to manage the conflicts that arise within the beloved community of the church. The first thing to notice here, is that Jesus felt the need to say this at all. Jesus knows, you see, that being a part of a church community does not immunize us from conflict. When we gather in community, it is not a matter of if, but when challenges arise. That’s not always a bad thing – conflict, when handled well, can strengthen a community! What makes a congregation healthy is not whether there is conflict, but rather, how it is handled when there is. 

Jesus’ first instruction is pretty simple: tell the person about it, right to their face. If someone wrongs you, “sins against you,” he says, tell them. In other words, don’t tell someone else about it. Don’t start the gossip chain. Don’t unload your anxiety about a situation onto someone who doesn’t need to be involved: go right to the source. And don’t do it passive aggressively, either – or active aggressively for that matter! Be direct, but be kind, be humble – and be willing to recognize your own role in the situation. Interpersonal conflict is seldom one-sided. Don’t assume you already know the whole story – be willing to listen to the other person, and their particular pain, too (which may or may not have anything to do with you!). Usually difficult behavior comes out of some sort of brokenness that the offender is experiencing. I heard a cute way to say this: don’t confront them, but “care-front” them. Bring sandwiches, and speak to each other with care and compassion. This is the stuff of relationship building. It is confronting someone who has wronged you with the understanding that both parties are captive to sin and cannot free themselves, and both need daily forgiveness. If you are able to hear each other and recognize your shared humanity, your mutual pain, Jesus says, you will have regained that relationship.

Sometimes, though, even a good sandwich and all the best hopes and intentions in the world don’t result in a good conversation. So Jesus offers another suggestion: bring in a neutral third party. If misunderstanding and inadequate communication is still a problem, ask someone to help you understand each other. This is the role of community, isn’t it? To care for one another, to help each be our best selves, to hold each other accountable. Again, helping others to communicate with one another lovingly, seeking to understand each other’s mutual brokenness, is hard work – how much easier it would be just to take sides! – but it is the work that the Church is called to do.

Yet even this does not always work. Jesus’ next suggestion really ups the ante: if you’re still struggling, bring it to the whole church. Let everyone who has pledged to follow Jesus listen with care to those involved, surrounding them in love and compassion, even while striving to hold everyone accountable. 

And sometimes, even this won’t work. Jesus’ next words sound at first very harsh: “if the offender refuses to listen even to the church, let that one be to you as a Gentile and a tax collector.” Our first thought is: hold on, Jesus, let that one be like these despised members of society? Does he mean we should kick them out of the community? But that doesn’t sound like Jesus!

Ah, and you see, that’s the key. That doesn’t sound like Jesus. Because how does Jesus treat tax collectors? He welcomes them and eats with them! Matthew himself, the author of this gospel, was a tax collector! And how does Jesus treat Gentiles? He heals them and loves them and welcomes them! Remember the story we heard a couple weeks ago about the Canaanite (Gentile) woman who wanted a few crumbs from the table, and wanted her daughter to be healed? Jesus said her faith was great, and he healed her daughter! When Jesus invites us to treat someone with whom we are struggling to be in relationship, like a tax collector or a Gentile, he is inviting us to treat these outsiders like he does: with love and compassion. That doesn’t mean you should stay in a close relationship with someone who has hurt you. But it does mean that we are called to continue to love them with the love of Jesus, and view them as flawed but still beautiful and beloved children of God.

In this way, Jesus’ advice to the Church in today’s reading is not meant to be a legalistic formula for dealing with church conflict. Really, his advice is simpler than that: love one another, and in the face of conflict, try everything you can to restore relationship with one another. Reach out. Listen. Surround the person with loving community. When you’ve tried everything, still never stop loving them with the love of Christ.

That’s a pretty tall order. It is only possible because of this last line in our text today: “Where two or three are gathered in my name,” Jesus says, “I am there among you.” We’ve heard this line so many times before, but seeing it here, in its context, makes all the difference. Jesus makes this promise right on the tails of talking about the challenges and requirements of living in Christian community – he makes it because he knows how difficult community can be. Rewarding, yes, and life-giving, and healing… but also a whole lot of work, and very trying at times. And so he promises: I am with you in that important work. When you strive for love, strive for relationship, strive for compassion and building up and growth – I am with you. When your humanity and brokenness rub each other the wrong way – I am with you. When you are challenged and discouraged by each other – I am with you. Whenever you are together in my name – I am with you. And I will not leave you to do the difficult work of relationship alone.

This strikes me as especially important at this time, as the laid-back summer mindset gives way to a new school year and program year, and with all the activities starting up again we feel that familiar stress. And when we are stressed and over-worked, we are all that much more susceptible to snapping at each other. As we interact with more people, meet new people, find ourselves in new communities… these words from Jesus are even more important to remember: not only to do everything in our power to build loving, healing relationships with one another, and to reach out especially to those marginalized and vulnerable, but to remember that in all we do together in Jesus’ name, we do it also with Jesus’ presence, and with the promise of his own self-giving love, grace, and joy. 

Let us pray… God of community, you call us into loving, compassionate relationships with one another. Give us the wisdom to build these relationships, to nurture them and help them grow. And when we struggle, remind us that you are there with us, loving us and forgiving us, as we continue to strive to live your loving way in the world. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.