Sermon: Giving ourselves (October 22, 2023)

Pentecost 21A
October 22, 2023 – Children’s Sabbath
Isaiah 45:1-7
Matthew 22:15-22

INTRODUCTION

Religion and politics. The two things you should never talk about in polite company, right? And certainly not together! Yet today the lectionary brings these two together in an undeniable way. In the Isaiah text, the prophet announces that God is using a Gentile, the Persian king Cyrus, to bring about God’s purpose of bringing the Israelites out of Babylonian captivity, out of exile, and back to Jerusalem to rebuild the Temple. It’s a story by which we see how God can use even an unfaithful ruler to bring about God’s justice and plan. 

Then in Matthew, some Jewish leaders try to trick Jesus – again – with a question about taxation, and whether taxes should be paid to the emperor, the king. It doesn’t get much more political than that! And to be sure, this is no idle inquiry – this question about taxation is a particularly hot issue of the day, one of the hottest. As usual, Jesus is not caught in their trap. But the exchange brings to mind how it is that we are called to live as both people of faith, and people who are a part of a political society. 

As you listen today, consider how your identity as a citizen and your identity as a Christian complement or enhance each other – or how they don’t – and what scripture might be saying about how to balance these two identities. Let’s listen.  

[READ]

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

That clever Jesus. I love how he manages to maneuver so deftly out of these traps his opponents keep setting for him. This one is especially impressive: the Herodians (Jews who sympathized with the Romans) and the Pharisees (Jewish teachers of the law) are unlikely bedfellows, but they have teamed up to ask him about the biggest hot button issue of their day: the question of taxation. The oppressive Roman government was taxing the Jewish citizens, and then using that very tax to oppress them. It’s an issue that would, a few decades later, lead to a Jewish uprising and the destruction of the second temple. If Jesus says here that they shouldn’t pay taxes, then the Herodians will brand him a revolutionary, and get him for breaking the law and rising up against the Roman government. On the other hand, if he says yes to paying taxes, he will be a traitor to the Jewish people who are being oppressed by this very tax. Either way, Jesus is toast.

Haha, but not our Jesus! He directs them to the coin with which taxes are paid, asking them whose face is on it. Caesar’s face is on there, so, he says, it’s his. “Give back to the emperor what is the emperor’s,” he says. Easy peasy. But the real climax of this passage, comes in Jesus’ next words: “and [give back] to God what is God’s.” The concept of giving back to Caesar may be controversial, but it is at least straightforward. This statement about God, though, leaves room for question. What is God’s, exactly, that we should give it back? 

You may immediately think, “Well, everything belongs to God!” and you would be right, but Jesus’ words are even more specific than that. The clue is actually back in the first part of Jesus’ statement, as he explains what should go back to Caesar and why. The currency used to pay the emperor his tax is a coin, specifically a coin with the emperor’s head engraved on it. So, when Jesus has them pull out one of the coins and asks, “Whose image is on this coin, and whose likeness?” it is very obvious to whom that coin belongs, to whom it should be returned. 

So, if a coin is the currency by which we give back to the emperor, what is the currency by which we give back to God? If we are to follow the same logic, it is that which bears the image and likeness of God. Hm, what could that be?

 “Then God said, ‘Let us make humankind in our image, according to our likeness. … So God created humankind in his image, in the image of God, he created them.” It’s right there in the book of Genesis: we are the currency, you see, by which we give back to God. We are – our hearts, our minds, our strength, our voices, all that is in us, all that God first gave to us – we are the means by which we give back to God. From our very creation we have borne the image of God in our very being. In our baptism we were marked again with this image when a cross was traced on our foreheads. Christ is engraved upon us. And so, if we want to give to God, we do it by giving ourselves.

Ok, so… How do we give ourselves?

We often talk about giving money, especially toward a worthwhile cause. St. Paul’s is exceptionally generous, and members are often more than happy to give. That is, in a way, giving of ourselves. But today we are talking about a part of ourselves we can give that goes much deeper than money: today we are talking about giving our voices in a way that serves the most vulnerable among us – children with developmental delays or disabilities. Today is a part of Children’s Interfaith Weekend, organized by The Children’s Agenda, a local organization that advocates for the needs of children. On this Sunday each year, local faith communities commit to writing letters on behalf of vulnerable children. Advocacy for children, in this case writing letters urging the governor to include funding in the budget for early intervention for kids with developmental delays and disabilities, is the perfect example of how our faith and our citizenship coincide. We are driven by our faith to speak up on behalf of the vulnerable in our community, just as Jesus did. You can read more about this issue and sign a letter electronically HERE.

There are lots of ways we can and should use our voices to advocate for others, of course. But political advocacy, as we’re talking about today, is an especially powerful one, because we know that God can use political leaders, even those who are not faithful, to bring about God’s will. That’s just what God did with Cyrus, after all, a Gentile king! God used Cyrus to deliver the Israelites out of Babylonia captivity and so they could return to Jerusalem. And I believe that God can use our political leaders today to bring us closer to God’s kingdom – a place where everyone, even the most vulnerable, youngest children among us, has what they need. Our role in that is to tell them, through letters, phone calls or whatever means necessary, that we believe in a world in which everyone, even these children, have what they need. After all, they, too, are stamped with God’s image. They, too, as our kids will sing for us in a moment, are children of God – no matter what people say!

As surely as Caesar’s image is stamped and engraved on a denarius, the image of God has been stamped upon us, upon our hearts, upon our lives. That image is of a God who is endlessly loving, merciful and compassionate. As Christ gave everything for us, so that we would have life, may we who bear that image bear it also to the world, in what we say, what we do, how we vote, and how we treat one another, and in so doing, may we bring life and light into the world.

Let us pray… Lord of all, you have created us in your image and marked us with the cross of Christ. Help us to live out this image in the church and in the world, and use the voice you gave us, until all your people, children and adults, would have what they need. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Full service (featuring many children, including my own who wrote and read the prayers of intercession!) can be found HERE. The children's choir also sang beautifully!

Sermon: In hope for the feast to come (October 15, 2023)

Pentecost 20A
October 15, 2023
Isaiah 25:-19; Psalm 23; Matthew 22:1-14

INTRODUCTION

Today Jesus continues to share parables meant to challenge the religious elites of the day – but they are no less challenging for us still, in 2023. Today’s parable is particularly difficult, as it paints a picture that seems like it should describe God, inviting everyone to a royal feast, but it ends up looking very little like the God we know and love and worship. 

The other three readings, however, are lovely. Isaiah will also speak of a rich and satisfying feast, at which God will wipe away tears, and at which we will rejoice and be glad in his salvation. Psalm 23 describes a table set for us in the presence of our enemies, in which our cup will overflow with goodness. Even Philippians, while not about a feast, is about rejoicing, and praise, and relishing in the goodness of Christ, who will guard our hearts and minds, and whose peace surpasses all understanding. 

Hold tightly to the promises you hear in those first three readings, friends. Then, as you listen to the difficult gospel lesson, be guided by the question that best guides all of Jesus’ parables: what does this story show us about who God is, or perhaps, who God isn’t. Let’s listen.

[READ]

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

The parables we’ve had these last couple of weeks are difficult any time they come up in the lectionary, no doubt. Not only are they difficult to interpret – we believe, after all, in a loving and gracious God, and the king we see in today’s parable is anything but! – but they also bear the baggage of a history of antisemitic interpretation. Christians have used them to say, “God favors Christ-followers. Christianity has superseded Judaism, and is the one true way to worship God.” Lord knows, we do not need any more antisemitism in our world, and having these texts and their baggage come up in light of current world events has made a gracious interpretation of them even more difficult.

This week in particular, I admit to you that I have really struggled to write this sermon. I keep getting stuck on this line, where the king “sent his troops, destroyed those murderers, and burned their city.” It is so graphic, and when paired with the horrific images coming out of Israel/Palestine right now, it is near impossible to stomach.

So how do we come to terms with this? I have a few offerings which might help. One is to recognize the historical context of this writing. Matthew is writing around the year 80, about a decade after the destruction of the second Jerusalem temple (the first, the one Solomon built, having been destroyed in 587 BC, by the Babylonians, after which many of the Jews were sent into exile in Babylon). This time it was the occupying Romans who destroyed it, after a Jewish uprising. Matthew’s audience, made up primarily of Jews who had been cut off from their communities because of their belief in Jesus as the Messiah, were trying to make sense of this catastrophic event. So, it is entirely possible that Matthew’s placing this parable here, at the end of Jesus’ life, standing near the Temple, is an effort to console his audience and make sense of the horror they watched unfold. That line that troubles me so this week, about sending troops to destroy murderers and burn cities, makes more sense when it is describing something that actually happened in the lives of the people listening – rather than something that will happen.

Still, we usually think of the King in these parables as being God. So what do we do with a God who would be so brutal as to use a foreign army to fatally punish lack of faithfulness, who invites everyone in, yes, but who then binds and throws out the first person he finds not to be “doing it right,” not wearing the provided wedding garment? Some commentaries I read, in desperate search for answers, pointed out that Matthew’s context, while important to know and understand, is not our context, and thus this parable may mean something entirely different to us in the 21st century – and that is okay! After all, this is the living word of God, and one static interpretation that remains unchanging for two millennia does not sound “living” to me. Scripture is always speaking to us in different ways, depending on what is happening around us and what God needs us to hear. 

Another commentator offered that when Jesus says at the beginning, “The kingdom of heaven may be compared to…” it does not mean, “The kingdom of heaven is like this.” Rather, the Greek tense used there means something more like “Compare this to that,” as you would compare, say, apples to oranges – that is, as a contrast. Like, “This is the way a worldly leader (like Herod) would act, indeed, it is how we have seen worldly leaders act. It is something utterly different from the way our God and King rules.” Well that I can get on board with! But I’m also always suspect of interpretations that allow me to scoot past the difficult parts and not have to face them. 

And so I continued to dig and read and pray and try to understand this parable. As I did so, I heard a ping from Facebook, indicating that someone had commented on a recent post I’d made. The post was a share of a description a colleague had written, trying to help people understand some of the history of the situation in Israel/Palestine. Many of us are trying to understand, she’d said. Here is some brief historical information. The person who had commented on my share of that history was Becky, a seminary classmate of mine who is now a Jewish clergyperson. She warned of over-simplified descriptions, and added, “I would ask that you refrain from speaking of ‘sides’ in a war and from trying to explain what is happening.” I messaged her privately to continue the conversation, and she spoke of the difficulty of holding solidarity and grief and care-taking and lament. “It is just hard and extremely complex,” she said. 

In her public comment on my post, she also suggested what is most needed right now. I asked her if I could share it with you and she said yes. She wrote, “There will be a time, God willing, for analysis later, but right now thousands of human beings are dead and besieged, and a lot of us are in a state of shock and trauma. Sit with us and pray with us that people will soon be able to live lives of love instead of hate. Pray for a swift end to fear and terror. Pray that humans will use their tongues to build worlds, not to destroy them. And if that all feels trite, please sit with us in silence. This truly feels like a time when no words can express the magnitude of what has happened over the past days. Thank you for being there for us and with us.”

I was incredibly moved and humbled by her words and requests. I thought of how hard I had been working on trying to make sense of this parable – a story I thought I should be able to wrestle some good news out of, and just couldn’t. I thought of the millions of people – Jews and non-Jews alike – who are trying to make sense of what is happening as we speak in the Middle East, and who will likely never succeed. And I thought of all the people of faith who have been trying to make sense of horrific tragedy throughout time, looking for God’s hand in it, looking for meaning, looking for ways to hold onto their faith in the midst of the horror. 

And all of this, despite my best intentions to preach on the Gospel this week, urged me instead toward Isaiah and the Psalm, the texts we heard this morning that we share with our Jewish siblings. Like the Gospel, they both speak of marvelous banquets, but rather than horror, these serve up hope, peace, reconciliation. They serve the end of capital D Death, the end of division. “You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies,” the Psalmist writes. I imagined this happening in Israel/Palestine – and it became in my heart a prayer that dovetailed with Becky’s: “Sit with us and pray with us that people will soon be able to live lives of love instead of hate.” 

I thought of the Isaiah text, which was also written during a time of war and terror: “On this mountain the Lord of Hosts will make for all peoples a feast of rich food… he will swallow up death forever.” Imagine hearing those words as the enemy army is breathing down your neck, as you fear the end of the world as you know it is near. Imagine hearing them as you long for peace, long to have an opportunity to celebrate with a feast like Isaiah describes. Imagine reading them as a Jew living on the Gaza strip today. Listen again to Isaiah’s words: “Then the Lord God will wipe away the tears from all the faces… It will be said on that day, Lo, this is our God; we have waited for him, so that he might save us. This is the Lord for whom we have waited; let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation.”

It is a vision we all share: a vision of life and celebration, a vision in which we need not fear the grave for God is with us and has come to save us. It is a vision of hope, even in the midst of lament. And someday it will be true. We will join in celebration at the invitation of our God, sharing together in a feast of peace, love and mercy, our cups running over. Dear God, may it be so!

Let us pray… Lord of Hosts, Good Shepherd, Righteous King, we pray for our Jewish and Palestinian siblings, both those living through unspeakable violence and those who grieve and lament from afar. And we pray for ourselves, that we try not so hard to understand and explain as to sit-with, to pray-with, to grieve-with. We pray that people will soon be able to live lives of love instead of hate. We pray for a swift end to fear and terror. We pray that we could find ways to build worlds, not to destroy them. Grant us all the peace that surpasses all understanding. We have waited for you, God, that you might come and save us. Amen.

Full service can be viewed HERE.

Sermon: Ownership vs stewardship (October 8, 2023)

Pentecost 19A
October 8, 2023
Matthew 21:33-46

INTRODUCTION

Today’s Gospel will pick up right where we left off last week. Remember, this is Monday of Holy Week, the day after Palm Sunday, after Jesus has turned over the money-changers tables in the temple, and has generally upset the authorities. They have just asked him, “By what authority are you doing these things, and who gave you that authority?” Jesus responded with a trick question that they couldn’t (or wouldn’t) answer, and then a parable that calls out the religious and political authorities on the ways they have not fulfilled their duty to God. And now he will tell another parable, about wicked tenants who are called upon to care for a vineyard, but who are not merely negligent, but actively work against the duties entrusted to them. Jesus is not making any friends here – Matthew tells us that the chief priests and Pharisees start looking for a way to arrest him, which they will do just three days later. 

The parable in the Isaiah text is one that Jesus’ listeners would definitely have been aware of; Jesus is likely referencing it in Matthew quite intentionally. It is a love-song about how God cared for this vineyard and hoped for great things for it, but has been disappointed that it yields only wild grapes (a word that I learned this week means something like, “stink-berries,” which makes me giggle). 

Both texts are about how people have squandered God’s providence, neglecting to seek justice and love. The good news is hard to see, I admit, but you will find some solace and hope in the epistle, about how nothing we do or don’t do is more powerful than what Christ has done for us. As you listen, dwell in the hope of this promise! Let’s listen.

[READ]

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

This week I got a call in the office, and the person asked, “Hello, may I please speak to the business owner?” I said, “Well, uh, I’m the pastor, and this is a church, so…” She reiterated, “Ok, so are you the business owner?” Again, I hesitated before saying, “This is a church.” She said, “Okay, thank you!” and hung up. This is not the first time I have gotten such a call, asking if I am the business owner of this church. I assume such callers are not looking for a lesson in Lutheran theology or polity. (“Well, theologically speaking, the Church actually belongs to Christ, but legally it belongs to the congregation members. Our denomination’s polity has given decision-making power to the congregation, and it is their contributions – or time, talent, and treasure – which resource our mission.”) 

But joking and polity aside, the question of ownership for people of faith is an interesting one. To be clear, I do not own St. Paul’s, except insofar as I am a member just like all of you. But do I own my car, on which I have no more payments? Or my clothes? Or my computer? What about the money in my bank account? Do I own these things? People of faith are sort of caught between our culture’s obsession with owning things, and the power that this ownership gives us, and the knowledge that we own nothing, because everything comes from God. As Luther writes in the Small Catechism, “God has given me and still preserves my body and soul: eyes, ears, and all limbs and senses; reason and all mental faculties. In addition, God daily and abundantly provides… all the necessities and nourishment for this body and life.” Considered that way, you see, nothing at all is really ours, but God’s! 

The reason I’m thinking about ownership this week, is that this is a question in today’s parable in Matthew, often called “The Parable of the Wicked Tenants.” A landowner plants a vineyard and does everything necessary for it to thrive and succeed. Then he chooses some tenants, people who will live on and work and care for the land he has lovingly planted. So that is the relationship here: the landowner is the owner of the land; the tenants are stewards of that land. They do not own it, but are charged with the task of caring for it, helping it to bring about good fruit, on the owner’s behalf. Owner, and caretaker. The roles here ought to be very clear.

But… the tenants want to be more than stewards. They have morphed their role into something that grasps toward ownership, and all the power and control this role offers. They refuse to give up the produce, instead harming or killing those who come to collect it. And when the owner thinks to send his son, the tenants, rather than respecting him as the owner hoped, take the opportunity to make themselves true owners. “This is the heir!” they exclaim. “If we kill him, this will all be ours, and then we really will be the owners!” It’s a ridiculous prospect, because do they really think the landowner will say, “Oh, you bested me all right! Killed my son, that was a brilliant move. Now I have no heir, so I guess I’ll have to give the whole operation over to you clever tenants. Nice work!” Of course not! As the elders and chief priests rightly point out (not yet realizing that they are condemning themselves in this scenario!), “He will put those wretches to a miserable death, and lease the vineyard to other tenants who will give him the produce at the harvest time.”

So, what do we make of this strange story? The classic, traditional reading of this parable is allegorical. The landowner is God, the tenants are the Jewish leaders, who have not borne good fruits, the fruits of the kingdom. Instead, they have squandered God’s gifts, and used their power not to care for the poor but to exploit them. God has sent numerous prophets (in the parable, that’s the slaves) to try to set them right, but they have not listened. Finally, God sends his son – that’s Jesus – and even the son, they kill. Now remember, this is Monday of Holy Week, so this is very close to actually happening. But, Jesus points out to them that their plot to become owners rather than stewards of all God has provided, and to do whatever they want with it, will be in vain, because “the stone that the builders rejected has become the chief cornerstone” – and their killing of the Son will only serve to bring about God’s purpose, once he is resurrected. Jesus, the rejected stone, will become the cornerstone of our faith. So there is some good news here!

But I think this reading lets us off the hook too easily. It accuses the Jewish leaders of being unfaithful, or not bearing fruit, and we then get to be the “other tenants” at the end who will do a much better job of listening to God and bearing fruits of the kingdom. Yay us! But as a general rule of thumb, if you’re getting off easy after reading a parable, you’re probably missing something!

So to bring it back to where we started, where I feel convicted by this parable is in this question of ownership vs. stewardship. I see the wicked tenants grasping for ownership, for control, for freedom to do whatever they want with what they believe to be rightfully theirs. But to be a steward, you see, requires letting go of control. It requires making choices that keep in mind our connection to others within the system – whether that is the local community, or the environment, or the Church, or whatever. Let me say that again: being a good steward means making choices about what has been entrusted to us that are for the benefit not just of ourselves, but of the community, of neighbors near and far. 

And yet look how the tenants in this story act: they are so desperate for power and ownership that they resort to unreasonable violence, not once but several times. Their decisions are only for what they perceive to be their own benefit. The landowner sends them partners, but they are so focused on their own greed and desire that they reject, harm, and kill what is being offered to them, seeing it as threat. They are their own worst enemies, and they keep engaging in self-destructive behaviors, finally working themselves, presumably, not into gain, but into loss of everything.

And that ought to worry us a bit. Now for the most part, I think we are pretty decent people, generous people, who want what is best for our community, yeah? Certainly we are not murderous wretches! And yet we do continue to engage in lifestyles that harm our environment, participating in a never-enough culture of single-use items, fast fashion, and over-consumption. We continue to benefit from systems forged by a racist past, without doing much of anything to try to dismantle it. We are protective and possessive of what is ours, or what we believe to be rightfully ours, even as others suffer far more than we ever have. 

Now I know not all of that describes all of us all the time. But it describes most of us at least some of the time. There is room for improvement all around – in the ways we interact with the earth God made (whether that is in our personal use, or in our refusal to participate in a system that prioritizes convenience and consumption), in the ways we give and share our resources, in the ways we speak up for those who don’t have the privilege and opportunity that we do. We can all move in the direction away from valuing ownership over community, and toward being faithful stewards of what God has given to us to care for and benefit from. 

And here’s the thing: there is good news and grace in that opportunity. Yes, we do fall short, but there is grace enough for us to try again. Notice, Jesus never suggests that “those wretches [be] put to a miserable death.” That’s the leaders who say that. Jesus instead implies that even this wickedness is used by God to bring about salvation. And so it is also for us – we try, we fail, we try again, and whatever we can do, God will use it for His purpose, will use it to bring about life. God will continue to use us, trust us with this marvelous creation, forgiving us and guiding us toward a life of faithful stewardship of God’s many gifts – and will respond to our failures not with violence, but with grace. Let us not squander this trust, but steward it well, striving and “pressing on for the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus.”

Let us pray… Gracious Owner, we crave power and ownership, even when it leads to destruction. Guide us instead to be good stewards of what you have entrusted to us – our selves, our time, and our possessions – so that we would work with you toward bringing about your kingdom’s goals of love and justice. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Full service can be viewed HERE.

Sermon: Grace empowers (October 1, 2023)

Pentecost 18A (Lectionary 26A)
October 1, 2023
Ezekiel 18:1-4, 25-30
Philippians 2:1-13

INTRODUCTION

Since last week, a lot has happened in the Gospel of Matthew. Here’s what we skipped: Jesus has triumphantly entered Jerusalem on a donkey, to cheers and waving palms. He has gone to the Temple, and turned over the tables of the money changers in a fit of righteous anger. Now we are on Monday of Holy Week (we’ll stay in Holy Week for the next several Sundays). When the Gospel reading begins with the elders and chief priests asking where he gets the authority to do “these things” – well, these are the things they are talking about! And the question, really, is warranted – Jesus is making a real scene, as he overturns tables and structures both literal and figurative!

Today’s epistle, Paul’s letter to the Philippians, is a beloved text, where Paul quotes one of the earliest Christian hymns. In it, Paul is writing to a church community that is experiencing some tension and fears, and he is offering some guidance for overcoming that division. 

Finally, Ezekiel. Ezekiel was a prophet to the Israelites who had been deported to Babylon by King Nebuchadnezzar. They are feeling pretty grumpy, assuming they are being punished for the sins of their parents. “Not fair!” they cry. But God’s words through Ezekiel tell not of punishment, but of great mercy: “you are not suffering because of the sins of your parents,” he says. “You have the chance to live, and that’s what I want for you. Turn toward the Lord, and you will not die, but live.” 

Today’s readings are about walking the walk, not just talking the talk. As you listen, consider what keeps you trapped in old ways that bring death, and how God might help you to turn toward life. Let’s listen.     

[READ]

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

I got a lot of comments after last week’s sermon, in which I claimed that grace is not fair, because it is by definition a gift that we don’t deserve and did not earn. Several people said they’d be chewing on that in the days to come. Me too! Believe me, just because I preach it doesn’t mean I have fully grasped it myself! I mean, I know we need to live in grace, trusting God and God’s ways. I know that often when we are so focused on what is fair and what isn’t, it doesn’t actually lead us into anything productive. And I know for me, when I complain about something being unfair, I am usually doing just that – complaining, and hoping someone else will do something about it.

I know these things. But simply accepting that life is not fair is not the same as living in grace. Because while focusing on fair and unfair is often unproductive, grace is anything BUT unproductive. Grace implies a call, a call to live into the gift that God has given us. 

Has anyone ever received a gift that required or encouraged you to take some action? Maybe a beautiful set of paints, or a sewing machine, or a musical instrument, that encouraged you to become a painter, a seamstress, a musician? When I was 16, I became friends with the principal oboist of the New York Philharmonic. It’s a long story, and one that I will happily share if you’d like to know, because it is the very best story I’ve got. But for now, sufficed to say that as our friendship began, this man arranged for me to receive an expensive, professional oboe as a gift. I didn’t ask for it, I didn’t deserve it, but he gave it to me. So you’d better believe I started taking my oboe playing more seriously! I started taking lessons, I joined a very fine youth orchestra, and I went off to college to major in music. His gracious gift didn’t come with expectations or strings attached, but having received it, I was moved and inspired to use that gift for good things. A gift of grace has that power. 

Ok, so where does our deeply ingrained sense of fair and unfair fit into all this? When we perceive something to be unfair, a little flag starts to wave that shows us “something is wrong here!” It shows that there is something more and better to seek – even, there is the possibility here of justice. Now when I say “justice,” I don’t mean the justice we often associate with the law, in which everyone gets what is coming to them, punishment for their crime. I mean a society that is just, in which everything is ordered according to God’s will, and not human intentions that are so riddled by sin, conceit, and selfish ambition. A society in which everyone has access to food and clean water, clothing, and affordable housing. A just society is one in which everyone is treated with love and respect, compassion and sympathy. 

This call to seek something more is apparent in Ezekiel’s words this morning. The children of Israel are lamenting that they, having just been sent by the enemy Babylonians into exile, are being punished for the sins of their parents. “It isn’t fair!” they lament. (There’s that red flag!) But God assures them that they are not being punished for their parents’ sin, but only for their own. The good news is, that means they have the agency to make a change. Sure, they could continue in their ways, but this is a path that leads to death. Instead, he urges, choose the path that leads to life. “Reject the ways of sin,” God beckons, “and get yourselves a new heart a new spirit!” Make a change! Let that sense of unfairness urge you to action toward a more just world, in which the poor are fed, clothed, and sheltered, and people act honestly and faithfully! Turn away from evil ways, then, turn toward just ways, and live!

It sounds so simple. So why don’t they do it? 

        Why don’t we?

I have a colleague who several years ago discovered the many health benefits of eating a plant-based diet. He read a book that outlines how eating vegan can actually reverse the damage that is already done to people’s hearts that causes heart disease. Knowing that heart disease is the number one killer in America, he couldn’t understand why anyone would NOT want to do this. “You could live!” he said. “Changing your diet in this way could make you LIVE instead of die. Why won’t people take that seriously!” Now I’m not making a morality judgment on eating meat (I know, steak is delicious!), but the sentiment here is not unlike the message apparent in our lessons today. You could live, if you only turn toward the life that it is in God – for Christians, the life that is Jesus Christ. Turn, and live. So why don’t people do it?

I eat mostly vegetarian at this point, thanks to my vegetarian husband and daughter, but I don’t know that I could do a fully plant-based diet, for two reasons. One, is I really like cheese and eggs. I really enjoy eating them! The other is, so many of the recipes I know how to make use cheese and eggs, and it sounds exhausting to have to learn how to cook a whole new way. I suspect the reasons we have a hard time turning toward God, “turning, then, and living!” are similar. 1) Sinful behaviors are often easier and sometimes more fun, and 2) we simply don’t know how, because the law, that is, what we can read here in Ezekiel, may show us what we need to do, but it does not give us the power to do it. Metaphorically speaking, it tells us to a eat plant-based diet, but doesn’t come over and show us how to cook a gourmet veggie-and-grain feast. So, when God urges us to get new hearts and new spirits… how do we even do that? 

This, of course, is where Jesus comes into the picture. God saw what a difficult time we were having with the whole obeying God’s law thing. Things seemed clear enough, fair enough, but humans kept on falling short. Enter Jesus. In his 30-some years on earth, Jesus showed us what justice looks like. It looks like repentance, like turning toward God. It looks like love, like unqualified service, like selfless giving. It looks like all those things Paul lists in our lesson from Philippians – like encouragement, consolation, sharing in the Spirit, compassion and sympathy, like doing nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regarding others as better than ourselves, looking not to our own interests, but to the interests of others. These are the things that we strive for when we strive for justice, and the things we realize, when we detect unfairness, are not present in the world around us.

So, Jesus shows us how to do and live these things, and we are grateful… but even such a perfect example does not give us the power to actually do them. And this is where we come back to grace, that unfair gift of God – because Jesus did not only show us how to live. Jesus was not only a really good example. If that were all Jesus was, then we might as well follow anyone else who ever lived who was a nice person. My mom is a nice person and a good teacher – we could follow her. 

But no, Jesus did more than teach and show us how to live. By the grace of God that allowed Jesus to die on our behalf so that we could live eternally, we are also energized, enabled, and empowered to live a life of faith. Grace gives us that power. The love of God gives us that power. And, when we inevitably fall short, grace also catches us, sets us back upright, and gives us what we need to try again.

And so just as Paul outlines for us some of the characteristics of one who lives in grace, he also urges us to be of the same mind as our Savior who empowers us by his love. “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus,” he urges. The same mind, the same mind that became a part of us at our baptism, when we were washed clean of sin and death, when we received the power of the Holy Spirit, when we were marked with the cross of Christ forever. “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus … for it is God who is at work in you, enabling you both to will and to work for his good pleasure.” 

Let us pray… Energizing God, we know that our choices do not always lead to life, but we do want to turn toward you! Enable us to do so, to turn and live, so that we might be empowered to bring about justice in the world. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Full service: HERE.

Sermon: Assumptions and fairness (September 24, 2023)

Pentecost 17A
September 24, 2023
Matthew 20:1-16

INTRODUCTION:

Today’s readings address one of the most basic values of humanity: fairness. From as early as 9 months, humans demonstrate a sense of what is fair and what is not. In fact, even animals have a sense of this! And today’s readings will challenge your understanding of what is fair. 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, and has preached his sermon about repentance to the people of Ninevah, and now is eager to see God’s retribution on their sinfulness. After all, they were just a bunch of Assyrians, Israel’s enemies, so 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 worked one hour get paid the same as those who worked 12. But notice, Jesus doesn’t introduce the parable with, “This is how to run a business.” He says, “The kingdom of God 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 – are they offensive to 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]

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

I have a love-hate relationship with today’s parable, about the workers in the vineyard. I love it because it is so rich, and where some of Jesus’ stories are a bit cryptic, this one is so easy to resonate with – which is why I also hate it! It is infuriating, and offensive! We are offended for the same reason that the early workers are offended: the landowner’s business practice rubs against our early-formed and deeply-held assumptions about fairness and justice. When we perceive something is unfair, we are quick to judge it so.

But it occurred to me this week, that while we are quick to fall back on our assumptions about fairness, we might not even realize we are doing it, might not recognize the assumptions we are bringing to the story. So today, I wanted to go through some of the ones that I realize I make when I read this story, and see if we might approach them instead with curiosity.

First assumption: I assume that the workers who came later in the day were lazy. They slept in, or they’ve been standing around gossiping all day, or they don’t have that go-getter attitude we Americans value so much. They should have been there earlier – what were they doing, after all? Once we’ve identified their fault, it is easy to judge them: they are lazy and thus undeserving of this gift. They are literally worth less than those who worked all day. 

So. Let’s confront this assumption with some curiosity: Why were those people late? Maybe they had been looking for work all day and had been passed over because they were too small, too old, too sick, too dark, too light. Maybe they went from farm to farm, seeking work, but no one would hire them. Maybe they had children at home to care for, or sick relatives, or a leaky roof, or no bus-line near their home, or chronic fatigue syndrome, or severe depression. There could be any number of reasons they were standing “idle,” as the text says (though even this word carries some judgment doesn’t it? In the Greek it simply means “without work”). 

But going a little deeper into breaking down the assumption… maybe the real question is not, “why were they late?” but, “Why does it matter why they weren’t there?” Would it make the story feel less offensive to us if we knew what a hard life these 11th hour workers had, how disparaged, and marginalized they were? If there’s a really good reason for their not looking for work earlier, does that make the story feel okay for us?

We just started a year-long focus on housing justice. Next week we’ll have a chance to learn about some of the causes, but here’s a fact to get you started: do you know the number one reason people are homeless in Rochester? It’s because they don’t have a home. Before we can get into any of the reasons or causes, we must start with the reality as it stands: they do not have a home. Just like the workers: what’s the reason they give for not being employed? “No one has employed us.” No judgment, just a fact about their reality. So, let’s take it from there.

Assumption #2: The landowner is a bad businessman. Well, I think we can all agree that this is likely true! Who would run a business like this? You can be sure, once word gets around, that people will be flocking to his vineyard to begin work at 5pm, work one hour, and get paid for twelve. He’ll run his business right into the ground with this way of operating!

And yet… the parable doesn’t begin, “This is the way to run a business.” It begins, “The kingdom of God is like this.” And in the kingdom of God, it isn’t about the landowner’s success. It’s not about the landowner’s need for workers – notice Jesus doesn’t say “he needed more workers” so he went out again. It says he went out, and he saw the unemployed workers. He may well have had no need at all for workers, yet he kept finding people in need of work, and so he gave them work. While this business approach would not thrive in a capitalist economy, God’s kingdom is not a capitalist economy! In God’s kingdom, faithful living is motivated by the needs of the less powerful. In God’s kingdom, God’s economy, the powerful – here, the landowner – go out in search of those in need, listen to what those needs are, and satisfy them, even over and above their own needs. Of course, we understand that in this parable the landowner is an analogy for God, who we know will always seek us out and provide for our needs. But it’s not such a bad thing to keep in mind when we find ourselves to be in the more powerful position as well: seek out the needs of the less powerful, and listen to them.

Third assumption, and this is a doozie: We assume that life should be fair. Or that we can make it fair. Oh, we know in our heads that this will never be the case, yet we still long in our hearts that it would be.

But this parable challenges not only that life could be fair, but whether fair should even the goal. You see, the landowner never claims to pay anyone what is “fair.” The first workers agree to the usual daily wage (which they get). The second wave of workers, he says he will pay them what is “right.” Not what is fair. And in this case, the landowner determines, what is right is what is compassionate and generous – not what is fair. Turns out, sometimes fairness isn’t the highest good.

This is an important reality check for followers of Christ, because my friends, I have to break something to you: grace – this wonderful gift of God that we all enjoy, around which we base our whole belief system – grace is, by definition, not fair. It is a gift that we do not deserve, and did nothing to earn. And yet God, through Christ, gives it to us anyway. 

As I was working with Zach and Lena to prepare for their confirmation today, I said, “If there is one thing I want you to leave these years of confirmation knowing it is this: God loves you. God loves you. And there is nothing, nothing you can do or not do that will ever change that.” In a world in which someone is always judging us as having less value than someone else (and sometimes, we are the ones placing that judgment on ourselves), how important this is to remember: you are worth everything to God, you are beloved by God, no matter what.

That was the promise God made to Zach and to Lena at this very font, when they were baptized. And in a moment, they will stand before you and affirm that they want to continue living in that promise, and all that it implies for our lives. I hope that as they do, you, also, will remember that you stand in your own baptismal promises, that you, too, will never be out of the circle of God’s love. 

After they are confirmed, we will all come to this table as we do each week. We will stand with hands outstretched, like workers being paid at the end of the day, waiting for our daily bread. And into each waiting hand will be placed the same size morsel of bread, the same swallow of wine. Each of us will receive our daily bread, whether this week you invited three new people to go to church, or you finally let that jerk at the office have what was coming to him, or you yelled at your kids, or you gave a huge gift to charity, or you managed to keep your mouth shut when you knew saying something would only make things worse, or you fell off the wagon – again – and have to start at square one in your recovery. No matter what you did or didn’t do this week, you will come before God and receive from Him what is right: enough grace to hold and sustain you – today and every day.

Let us pray… Recklessly gracious God, we long for life to be fair; and you give instead what is right and gracious, even when we do not deserve it and did not earn it. Help us to challenge our assumptions about other people, that we would err on the side of compassion and generosity. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Full service can be viewed HERE.

Sermon: Practicing mercy (9.17.23)

Pentecost 16A
September 17, 2023
Matthew 18:21-35

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 hear the stunning ending 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 Pharaoh’s second-in-command, having saved 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. Would that we could all forgive like Joseph!

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]

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

If last week’s address of conflict management was difficult, today we go even deeper: into the questions around forgiveness. When we did our Lenten series on tough questions last spring, the week we looked at forgiveness was one of the best attended. As I was preparing it, I realized I had more questions than answers about forgiveness, so I just started jotting them down. For example:

• Are there times when offering forgiveness is too dangerous?

• Is it possible to forgive if the offender hasn’t shown regret?

• Does forgiving send the message that what was done was acceptable?

• Does forgiving someone mean I have to relinquish my position of power?

• Does forgiveness have to include reconciliation and restoration of the relationship?

• Perhaps most painful of all: will forgiving open me up to being hurt once again?

Most of my questions, you can see, are about the difficulty of offering forgiveness, rather than receiving it. As we can see from the parable Jesus tells, offering forgiveness does seem to be the trickier bit. Let’s look at the different parts of this story, and dig in bit by bit.

First, Peter’s question that starts the conversation. Actually, it doesn’t start the conversation: Jesus has already been talking about how to deal with conflict in the Church community. That’s what we heard last week, remember? When someone wrongs you, talk to them about it. If they won’t listen, include a neutral third party. If they still won’t listen, bring it to the church. All of that is a lot of emotional work! So Peter wants to know, just how many times are we expected to go through all this trouble? To his credit, he actually overshoots. The Jewish teaching was and is that you should apologize to someone you’ve hurt three times. That’s a lot! And, Peter is more than doubling that! But Jesus blows it out of the water again (typical Jesus!). “Not seven,” he says, “but seventy-seven times,” or in some translations, “seventy times seven.” The point here is not the number. The point is: “there is no stopping point. Forgive indefinitely.” After all, is there a point at which you think God should stop forgiving you? “Well, the first 490 times was fine, but now it’s been 491, so….” Of course not. We want infinite forgiveness, and so that, Jesus says, is what you, as children of God, should extend. 

Then he goes on to explain, using this bombshell of a parable. Now, the first scene of this parable I like, quite a lot! A worker is called to the king, who has noticed this guy owes 10,000 talents. In modern money, this amounts to nearly three and a half billion dollars! It is intentionally hyperbolic. He might as well have said, “He owed a million gazillion dollars!” The point is, he owed more than anyone could ever hope to repay, an incalculable amount, a debt beyond measure. Rather than being sold off with his family and possessions, the worker begs for mercy, more time to repay the debt he could never repay. And out of pity, the king forgives him this astronomical amount, just wipes the slate clean. 

Wow! Wouldn’t that be a nice, feel-good parable if it ended right there? But no, Jesus won’t let us off so easy. This man, who has every reason to be grateful and gracious in proportion to the mercy he has received, who can now literally afford to be generous, heads right off to find a guy who owes him 100 denarii. In modern money, this is like, a few hundred bucks. Not a small amount, but an amount that could reasonably be paid back in a few months’ time. When the guy asks for mercy (just like the first worker had done, even in the same words!), there is none to be had. The first worker throws the second worker in prison until he can repay. We, the listener, are rightly outraged. What a jerk!

Well, the other workers thought so, too. Off they go to tell the king, who calls the first worker back, reinstates the debt, and vows to torture him until he can repay – which, as we know, will be never. So, this greedy ingrate will be tortured for eternity. Then, if you weren’t already feeling warm fuzzies about how this ends, Jesus hits it home: “So my heavenly Father will also do to every one of you, if you do not forgive your brother or sister from your heart.” The good news, friends! Whew! 

It would be easy, especially with that last line, to take this parable as prescriptive: if you do this, then that will happen, so, watch out! But parables are seldom so straightforward. Rather, parables are like a room you enter, and take a look around. They are descriptive of a reality. Jesus prefaces this parable by saying, “The kingdom of heaven can be compared” to this: a world in which there is mercy enough to erase incalculable debt. And, when people have received this immense gift, they are inspired and empowered to be merciful toward their neighbors. This is the image of God we can see here, and we are bearers of this image. We receive forgiveness of debts, as we forgive our debtors. (Forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us.) This is what God envisions for the world. 

And yet too often, we reject that vision. We withhold the forgiveness we have received in abundance. We are greedy. We choose pride over relationship. And when we do that? Not only does it grieve God, but it is torture to us. It eats away at us, at our hearts. It burdens us, traps us, chaining us forever to the very source of our pain, and we cannot find the abundant life we all crave. I knew an old woman once who told me something her estranged son had done many years before, and she said flatly, “And I will never forgive him for that.” And all I could think was, “What a sad life to live” – a life that knows not the joy of releasing the chain that binds you to pain. This woman would give up her relationships with her own son in order to cling to her poison. 

That is not what God wants for us. God wants us to inhabit a world in which grace and mercy (both divine and human) are plentiful. But living into a world of such grace and mercy is not so easy for humans. We need lots of practice to be forgiving. We may even need to forgive the same thing 77 times – innumerable times!  We need to work at making forgiveness a regular practice, until it does come more naturally to us, until it becomes a quality of mind and heart, a way of life – not just something we do, but who we are: we are givers and receivers of mercy. We are children of God, living by God’s grace.

It is possible. Humans are creatures of habit. We brush our teeth at night, even though we are dead tired, and wash our hands after using the restroom, even if we’re in a hurry. We established these habits early on, through repetition, and they are powerful. The habit of mercy can be so powerful, too. It’s a matter of practicing mercy 77 times (and more), practicing it every chance we get. Perhaps we practice first on insignificant things and then working up to bigger ones, but we keep on practicing – until we truly are bearers of the image of our gracious and merciful God.

Let us pray… God of mercy, even though we are receivers of your immeasurable grace, we struggle at times to extend that grace and mercy to others. Soften our hearts, and help us forgive as we have been forgiven – 70 times 7 times and beyond. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Full service HERE.

Sermon: Managing conflict in community (Sept. 10, 2023)

Pentecost 15A
September 10, 2023
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 them.

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. Once they were 3 and 4, and both had developed a sense of 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 we could all stand to 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. For all of the gifts that community and relationship have to offer us, it is 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!” 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 point fingers rather than noticing our own part in the brokenness. Or sometimes, like 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 screaming. 

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. Because Jesus knows, 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. 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 brokenness. 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, is it not? 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 the enemy? 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! 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 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 the same love and compassion as you would anyone else in the community. In fact, perhaps even with more, because Jesus is always one to reach beyond boundaries – geographical, religious, and emotional – to the one who is vulnerable and in need. 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. Love one another with all that you have, and try everything you can to be in loving 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 alone.

This strikes me as especially important at this time, as the kids head back to school, and the program year starts up, and all of the fall activities that are a lot of fun, but have the potential to suck us dry and make us feel stressed and strung out. For all the gifts of all these things starting up again, 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, his grace, and his 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. 

Full service can be viewed HERE.