Sermon: Who is my neighbor in this current event? (July 13, 2025)

Pentecost 5C
July 13, 2025
Luke 10:25-37

INTRODUCTION

Last week we heard a lot about the kingdom of God – what it is like, what it is not like, and how to proclaim it. This week, right on the tails of Jesus sending out 70 of his followers to proclaim the kingdom, and their return, we hear a very familiar story, the Good Samaritan, which gives us a concrete example of what it would look like if we did, indeed, love our neighbor – that is, live like this is God’s kingdom. The familiarity of this tale has perhaps diminished how very scandalous it is – we’ll get into that in a moment! Today, as you listen to the first readings, hear that God’s law and hope for us has not changed since the Israelites entered the Promised Land, give thanks in the Psalm that God is present with us as we strive to live God’s word, and hear in our reading from Colossians a prayer for you as you strive to live a life of faith. Then, as you listen to the story of the Good Samaritan, place yourself in the story – not as the hero, the Samaritan, but as one of the other characters. Maybe the guy in the ditch, or one of those who crosses the road, or the innkeeper. For that matter, maybe you’re the lawyer at the beginning, seeking to understand what love of neighbor looks like. As you listen, imagine your character’s thoughts and feelings as this all plays out. Let’s listen. 

[READ]

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

When I preached on this text in 2019, I referred to a border crisis that was hot in the news – thousands of asylum seekers from South and Central America, being held in questionable conditions on the border. What does it look like, I asked, to be a neighbor in the midst of such a crisis? Who is our neighbor?

Well, new year, new immigration crisis. In 2025, we are watching immigrants, even some with legal residency documents and no criminal record, being rounded up and sent to detention centers. The brand new detention center in the Florida Everglades currently houses 900 people, and reports from detainees and visitors have said conditions are awful – numerous hygiene concerns, lack of running water, one meal a day (one person reported maggots in his meal), lights on constantly, extreme temperatures, and people packed in, “wall-to-wall humans.” One reported that his Bible had been confiscated with the explanation that his right to freedom of religion did not apply here. 93% of the people who have been rounded up have no criminal record. Meanwhile, even US citizens with brown skin are living in fear – I recently met a Hispanic United Methodist Bishop in our state who has been stopped twice by ICE. He has started carrying his US passport with him everywhere he goes. It is a scary time to be an immigrant in this country. 

In other news, this week, the IRS opened the door for pastors to talk about politics and even to endorse a candidate from the pulpit. I have deep concerns about this as well, for many reasons, and so rest assured, I am not going to do that. You didn’t call me to be a political leader from the pulpit. But you did call me to be your spiritual leader and to preach the gospel. Our views on current events are shaped by a lot of factors, but one of them, I hope, is our faith convictions, and so I will comment on a question that guides me through current events and guides my life as a civilian, and that is: what would Jesus have me do, in this event or situation? How do we as Christians understand and respond to current events in a way that is guided by God’s word and law? 

Today’s parable offers a profound lens through which to view public life, especially any situation in which care for those in need is at play – whether they are hungry, sick, a refugee, etc. The Parable of the Good Samaritan is quite familiar, of course – if you know just one of Jesus’ parables, it is probably this one! And that familiarity can sometimes make it hard to glean something new from it. But let’s take a deeper look at it together, and see what we can learn. 

“A certain man was walking,” Jesus begins. Already, here is something significant. We know nothing about this guy, and by design. He is nobody in particular, and he is everyone. I might have expected this lawyer, whom Luke tells us is “wanting to justify himself,” to stop Jesus right there for some clarification. “Hold on,” he’d say. “What kind of guy are we talking about here? Where is he from? What is his religion? What color is his skin? Is he gay or straight, Democrat or Republican? Is he a citizen of this country? Did he come here legally? Has he committed a crime, and if so, what kind? Does he pay taxes? Is he educated or skilled? What’s his deal?” In other words, “Let me make a judgment before I hear anything else in this story, about whether this guy is even worth my time and energy.” Honestly, I’m kind of interested to know myself! 

But no, Jesus intentionally leaves out any of those details, because the only detail that matters, as we’ll soon see… is that this man is in need. “Some guy” is each of us, and he is the person we love the most, and he is the person we love the least, or the one whom we fear the most. This “certain man” is every man, every person, regardless of tribe, background, status, or skill level. In other words: it doesn’t matter who he is, because everyone who is in need is your neighbor. 

Once that is established, Jesus goes on to tell this now-famous story: some non-descript guy is walking along and gets mugged, beaten, robbed, and left for dead on the side of the road. He’s walking along a notoriously dangerous road, where such incidents were common. Sometimes, such beaten people were left there as bait, so that when someone stopped to help, bandits would jump out and get the helper, too. Frankly, the priest and the Levite who soon passed by were making a smart decision, crossing to the other side, for a lot of reasons. One was that helping the man would put them in great personal danger. Everyone has the right to safety and self-defense, right? 

But another important reason they were smart not to help was that touching this man, assuming he was dead (Jesus says he was “left for dead”) would be breaking God’s law. These were religious leaders, who could not perform their religious duties if they had touched a dead body. Such an interaction required extensive cleansing rituals over several days. And so each of them opted to follow the letter of the law, rather than risk stopping to help the man, and then go on to serve and honor God in their respective positions. Good call, if you ask me, and probably one that served a greater good. I don’t blame them at all. In fact, it’s a call I have myself made many times. 

And then along comes the Samaritan. Now, to add a little more color to this story, you should know that Jews and Samaritans did not get along. Jews believed that Samaritans had bad theology and dirty blood. The hatred was long-standing and deeply entrenched. We don’t know the affiliation of the guy in the ditch, but we know those listening to the story were likely Jews, who heard, “A Samaritan came along…” and immediately went tense. Nobody there would like to hear that the Samaritan was the good guy – even the lawyer, when asked who was a neighbor, can’t even say the word, Samaritan. Instead, he answers (I imagine, reluctantly, through clenched teeth), “The one who showed him mercy.” For Jesus then to add, “Go and do likewise,” was offensive, and throwing salt in the wound: go and be more like this person you despise.

The original question, you remember, was, “Who is my neighbor?” and Jesus’ implicit answer to that is, “Everyone.” The story he goes on to tell shows us not who is our neighbor, but rather, how to be a neighbor to “everyone” – regardless of race, creed, political affiliation, age, health status, country of origin, marketable skills, immigration status, sexual orientation or gender identity. Everyone.

If I’m honest, I find this story pretty troubling. As a rule-follower myself, I have to wonder, are the priest and the Levite not good neighbors? They follow the letter of the law – they don’t stop to help so that they wouldn’t put themselves in danger, or get themselves ritually unclean, such that they wouldn’t be able to perform their religious duties. The law is in place for a reason, after all. If we don’t follow it, there will be chaos. Following the law seems like pretty good neighbor conduct, right? And you know, I’d be willing to bet, they probably even prayed for that guy in the ditch. They were faithful men, after all. So, couldn’t that be what being a neighbor looks like?

Ah, but this story isn’t called “the prayerful priest” or “the law-abiding Levite.” We call it the Good Samaritan, because it was the Samaritan who saw that, while the law is a good thing that keeps order, it is not more important than mercy. Grace is a higher good than law. Love is a higher good than safety. The law is in place to guide us on how to gracious, merciful and loving toward our neighbor in need, and sometimes it does this well, and sometimes it falls short – sometimes it directs us away from mercy. And so, as the lawyer rightly points out, if the highest law of all is, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and soul, and strength, and mind; and your neighbor as yourself,” then every other law must lead us toward fulfilling this mandate. Do this, says Jesus, and you will live. 

Immigration is a complicated issue, one we’ve been trying to solve for years. I don’t know the right policy. I’ll focus on my lane, which is to do my best to teach God’s word, and follow Jesus. Per God’s instruction, not just in this parable but throughout scripture, our job as Christians is to be a neighbor, to err on the side of love and mercy. How we each live out that call will differ, of course – direct aid, running for office, calling your representative, praying, listening, speaking out in love… there is no shortage of ways to love and show mercy to our neighbor in need.

Whatever action we take: when we are good neighbors, when we show mercy – we will live. We will experience God’s life-giving kingdom here and now. When we are bold in our compassion, courageous in our love, and faithful in our witness, we will live. That is the promise of Jesus Christ: that because we have already received such mercy and grace by Christ’s own death and resurrection, we are emboldened to share that love with a hurting world, trusting in the power of God and life everlasting. 

A neighbor shows mercy to this broken world. Go, and do likewise.

Let us pray… Most merciful God, there are so many who suffer in this world, who need to encounter your mercy. Help us to be agents of your love. Show us how to do it, as individuals and as a country. Reveal to us your plan, then embolden us to become a part of it. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Sermon: How it looks when the kingdom comes near (July 6, 2025)

Pentecost 4C
Proper 9
July 6, 2025
Luke 10:1-11, 16-20; Galatians 6:1-10 

INTRODUCTION

At this point in Luke’s telling of Jesus’ story, intensity and urgency are rising. After being transfigured on a mountaintop, Jesus has “set his face for Jerusalem,” and is heading for his death, and in these last weeks of his life, Jesus is giving the disciples a good, tough schooling about what being a disciple looks like. In particular today, we will learn about how Jesus sends his disciples out to proclaim the kingdom of God.

The “kingdom of God” – it’s a phrase we hear a lot. In fact, Jesus talks more about the kingdom of God in the four Gospels than anything else. But what does it mean? Sometimes, maybe even usually, we think of it as “heaven.” But listen to what we hear today: Jesus will tell the 70 to declare, “The kingdom of God has come near.” In this context, the kingdom of God as a description of the afterlife doesn’t make much sense. So, as you listen to all the readings, consider what else “kingdom of God” might refer to, what it might look like, and what we are really praying when we pray those well-known words, “Thy kingdom come…” Let’s listen. 

[READ]

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

“Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as in heaven.”

These are words that flow from our mouths so easily every week, maybe even every day. Words that we promise to teach our children at their baptism. “Thy kingdom come… on earth as in heaven. Thy kingdom come.”

As I mentioned, Jesus talks about the kingdom of God more than anything else in all four Gospels. In our Gospel lesson today, he says it twice: “The kingdom of God has come near you.” Thy kingdom come. What does that mean, though? What does that look like? In other words, if God really were the sovereign of the world, the king of our hearts and our lands, and every knee truly bowed to God alone and not to our own sinful ways… what would the world look like?

I think this is a useful thought experiment. I don’t think we need to agree on politics or policy to articulate a shared vision of what the kingdom of God on earth would look like (even though we may disagree on how to get there). In the kingdom of God, in short, I believe everyone has what they need: food, healthcare, safety, clean air to breath and clean water to drink, as well as love, peace, connection, and a sense of belonging. Just think, if all human beings had these things, how crime rates, war, poverty, drug use, and interpersonal conflict would decrease! Most of those things increase because people are desperate to get their needs met. In the kingdom of God, all of our needs are met, and God’s presence among us can be felt most profoundly.

         Well, as I said, we humans disagree on how to get there, that much is obvious. Still, today’s readings give us some insight into how we can at least move in the right direction, starting with Paul’s letter to the Galatians. He says, “If anyone is detected of a transgression, you who have received the Spirit [so, that’s baptized Christians] should restore such a one in a spirit of gentleness.” In other words, be gentle with one another, forgiving, and patient. Assume best intentions, rather than jumping to the worst. It really helps to soften the heart.

“Bear one another’s burdens,” he goes on, “and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.” So, we don’t only watch out for ourselves, but understand that when one suffers, we all as a community suffer. And so rather than saying, “Well, that doesn’t affect me,” we recognize that if it affects someone in our community, it does indeed affect us. As Paul says in Corinthians, “if one member [of the body] suffers, all parts suffer with it.” When we care for each other as much as ourselves, we all lift each other up. 

“So let us not grow weary in doing what is right,” Paul continues, “and whenever we have the opportunity, let us work for the good of all” – again, not just for the good of ourselves. Because when the least advantaged among us do well, we all do better.

While these instructions cannot get us all the way to the kingdom of God, they are at least a straightforward start: Be patient and gentle with one another, forgive short-comings, be empathetic and compassionate, stand by each others’ side and advocate for one another’s needs. In short, never grow tired of doing what is right, working for the good of all, and not just ourselves, at every opportunity. A world like that sounds a lot closer to the kingdom of God than we currently find ourselves!

Of course, working toward the kingdom of God, trying to bring a glimpse of that kingdom here on earth, is not an easy job. It’s not always as simple as writing a check or volunteering at a food pantry, though both of these are also very important. Sometimes it involves doing some serious self-reflection and self-discovery, getting out of our comfort zones, even risking our safety or reputation. Sometimes it means stepping into the muck for the sake of the other.

It's a big, tough, sometimes risky call, for a lot of reasons! So how do we start? Looking at today’s Gospel lesson can prepare us for the journey toward seeking God’s kingdom. In today’s story, Jesus sends out 70 people in pairs. He gives them several instructions about getting there and about what to do once they are there. Each of his instructions can speak to us today, as well.

The first thing Jesus tells the 70 is, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few.” In other words, “If not you, then who?” The work of pursuing the kingdom of God and sharing the good news is hard work, but who is more qualified than you are, Mike? Or you, Lois? Or you, Jamie? The laborers are few, and God needs each and every one of us!

Jesus warns then that he is sending us out “like lambs into the midst of wolves.” In other words, this is risky business. It might result in a painful reality check. It might not be fun, or even immediately rewarding. You might damage your reputation, or have to give up something important to you. 

In the book, Waking Up White, author Debby Irving recounts her journey of discovering how her experience as a white, middle class, person with myriad connections has afforded her opportunities very different from those of her peers of color (not always better, just different). In the book, she vulnerably recounts some of the most painful discoveries she has made on her quest for racial justice, as she has had to give up assumptions of the world that she has taken for granted and held dear all her life. Her perspective is continually flipped on its head. That sort of self-discovery can feel like being a sheep in the midst of wolves! It’s hard work! But Jesus says, be bold in what you do – this is God’s work! And the Lord will provide what you need.

 “Greet no one on the road,” Jesus goes on. This is not so much about being unfriendly as it is about the urgency. There are people who are suffering and scared, who need to know something of that vision of God’s kingdom as soon as possible. This is the job, the call, of Christians – to work toward that kingdom, to show that love in word and deed – and there is no time to waste! 

“Whatever house you enter,” Jesus says, “first say, ‘Peace to this house!’” This is that good news bit. While “peace” was a standard greeting, the peace Jesus is talking about here is the peace of salvation, the peace of knowing that Christ died for you and that liberation from sin and death is what allows and empowers you to love and serve even the least of society – whether it is refugees fleeing violence, or families here in Rochester who struggle to make rent, or those on the brink of losing their healthcare or food benefits, or the earth itself. Christ’s death is what gives us the strength to serve! Every time you encounter someone, you are bringing to them that peace that is salvation, you are bringing them the love of God. Every time you engage with someone, they are experiencing that love through you. Every effort you make to make this world look more like God’s kingdom reflects the grace and salvation of Jesus Christ – and every greeting you make proclaims that peace of salvation. And when we greet people in this way, with this knowledge, we can say with confidence, as Jesus also instructs, “The kingdom of God has come near to you.” That love, grace, peace and justice – that is the kingdom of God.

None of this is easy. Sometimes it brings us together with folks or situations or self-realizations we’d rather avoid. Sometimes it brings about growth, and growth is almost always painful. But notice at the end of the Gospel reading, that, “the 70 returned with joy!” Joy – because they have glimpsed what life can be like when it resembles God’s kingdom, when everyone has what they need, when our highest values are justice and peace, when we care for one another and bear one another’s burdens. It is difficult and messy work; but it is the kingdom work to which we were called in our baptism, and every day since.

Let us pray... Lord God, there is so much in this world that falls short of your hope and vision for us. Strengthen us and give us courage to show your love, grace, peace, and justice to the world, and bring about your kingdom on earth as in heaven. In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Sermon: God's story is our story (June 22, 2025)

Pentecost 2C
June 22, 2025
Luke 8:26-39

INTRODUCTION

Now that we are in the season of Pentecost, we will hear a lot of stories about Jesus’ life and ministry. They are roughly in order, but we will miss some parts, so I will use this time to make sure you are aware of where we are in the story, focusing mostly on the Gospel. 

At this point in Luke, Jesus has called the disciples, and done quite a bit of teaching and preaching, and a lot of healing. In his very first public sermon, back in chapter 4, he preached on Isaiah, saying that he was called, among other things, to proclaim release to the captives and freedom to the oppressed, and he has begun to show everyone what that looks like. All of his work so far has been in the region of Galilee, a largely Jewish area, but now, for the first time, he ventures across the sea into the land of Gentiles. He ends up in the land of the Gerasenes, where Jesus will be approached by a man with a legion of demons. A Roman legion is about 5000 troops – that’s a lot of demons! 

In all of these stories we will hear over the summer and fall, we are tasked with seeing them not just as stories that occurred 2000 years ago, but as stories that still play out today, albeit in more contemporary ways. So, as you listen, consider where you see yourself in the story. With which character do you resonate? Whose plight tugs at your heart strings? And, what word of hope is Jesus offering you in that? Let’s listen. 

[READ]

Read more about this image HERE.

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

My kids and I have always loved reading together. Grace, especially, has long turned to books and stories to help her tell her own story. When she was maybe 3, she would point to one of the characters in the book, and say, “That’s me” – no matter the color or age of the person. After reading the story, she would hop up, find herself a costume, and proceeds to act out the story. She made the story her own, and in doing so, learned more about people, about adventure, about language, and about empathy.

This is precisely how we can read the Bible: look at a story and say, “That’s me. That’s my story.” We often talk in Bible studies about how the Bible relates to our lives, but I prefer to think about how this biblical story IS our story. I believe the Bible is a record of people of faith telling their own story and experience with God, using literary devices and other storytelling techniques, such that future generations, like us, can then find their own experience in this timeless story, if not in the details, then at least in the themes and emotions and our shared human condition. 

Today’s Gospel story is really bizarre, but it is also a wonderfully rich story in which to find ourselves, so that is what we are going to do today. There are lots of entry points, for each character has their own unique experience. But I’d like today for us to think especially about the centerpiece of the story: the man with the legion of demons.

Picture with me for a moment, what his life has been like. He used to be somebody – someone with a name and a purpose. But all that is long past gone. Now, his community has defined him only by his ailment, and treated him thusly. He is the demoniac, the man with all the demons – demons that swirl about his awareness, at times so much in his consciousness that he cannot see anything else around him without looking first through that dastardly lens they provide. He is the man who has longed for years to experience the human connection he used to enjoy, but now there is no more connection – his condition prevents that. And without that connection, his humanity and his dignity have gone, too. He is ostracized, pushed away, shackled on the outskirts of town, physically removed from the awareness of his community. He tries to return to the city, seeking that connection he knows will give him back a hint of the humanity and worthiness he used to enjoy, but no one has the time or energy for that. He is pushed away, again and again, until he no longer believes he is worthy anymore of being in a meaningful relationship with another human being. His demons have won. They have beaten his identity out of him, and convinced him that he is not, in fact, worthy of love. Because of all those demons with which he lives, he is not enough. He has come to believe that he belongs in the tombs, that place of death, because he no longer experiences meaningful life.

Anyone ever feel something like that, or know someone who has? Like a legion of metaphorical demons surround you and affect how you see yourself and how you see the world? 

Some of us deal with addictions – to alcohol, our phones, to wealth, or the hope of an ideal body. Some of us have been abused, physically, emotionally, or both. Some of us can’t break out of a cycle of deceit, or bitterness, or abuse, or self-righteousness. Some of us find our skin color, our sexuality, our faith, our gender, to be magnets for hateful words from others. Some of us live daily with depression and anxiety, and arrive at the end of each day exhausted from the mere act of living. Some of us process information differently from most, and so we get labeled as “weird” or worse, and we are dismissed or ignored by our peers. Some of us have children or parents or siblings who refuse to speak to us. Some of us know just what St. Paul meant when he said, “I don’t do the thing I want, but I do the very thing I hate.” 

Not all of these are demons that need to be sent away – indeed some are a part of the beautiful people God created when he created each of us. But the emotional impact of them can still sometimes keep us from experiencing the abundant life God wants for us. We all have things like this that we carry with us each day. They make us doubt ourselves. They make us doubt we are worthy of love. They fill us with shame, and make us believe we are not enough.  

Back to the man with the legion of demons. There he is, living in the tombs, when this fellow, Jesus, arrives on the shore. Instinctively he runs out to greet him – not because he wanted Jesus there but in order to reject him, to push Jesus away as he himself had been pushed away by his own community. Perhaps if he could do the same, it might restore a sense of purpose for him. He is naked as he runs – is it because he no longer cares, or because he is so desperate to be close to someone that he has stripped anything that might get in the way? He falls at Jesus’ feet, and Jesus immediately tries to help him, but the demons won’t have it. They talk back to Jesus, taunting him, and begging him to mind his own business. “We’re in control here, Jesus,” they say. “You stay out of it.”

And then this remarkable moment: Jesus asks his name. It is the most basic form of connection, to ask someone’s name. The man’s heart leaps at the opportunity, but before he can answer, the demons do: “We are Legion.” They have so taken over the man that even his proper name has been swallowed up. Yet their quickness to answer backfires, for once the demons have been named, they can be managed. Jesus swiftly sends them into a nearby herd of pigs, who carry that legion of demons off into the sea to be drowned forever. 

The man has his life back… sort of. But it has been so long since he was anything other than “the demoniac” – his struggle had become his identity. Who was he without that? And so, to help him rediscover himself, Jesus gives him also a new purpose: to become the first missionary to this Gentile land, telling everyone about how much Jesus has done for him, proclaiming how his relationship with Jesus has changed his life.  

I listed earlier some of the metaphorical demons we may deal with today. Maybe some of them you experienced in your past, maybe some currently surround your awareness. Maybe some affect someone you love. As we seek to find ourselves in this story, I wonder: has Jesus shown up on the shore for you? Has Jesus come and found you, living in the tombs or self-doubt and unworthiness? Maybe Jesus came in the form of the counselor you needed just then, or a breakthrough in a difficult conversation with a loved one. Maybe Jesus came in the kind act of a friend of stranger, or a prayer offered on your behalf. Maybe Jesus arrived on your shore in worship, in receiving those words of forgiveness, or that morsel of bread and the words, “given for you.” 

Maybe Jesus came and you didn’t know to call it Jesus, but now, in retrospect, you can see that this is exactly who it was, because that was the thing, the moment, that accompanied your journey from death back to life, the thing that gave you hope once again, that helped you name what was plaguing you, so that it could be managed, even sent away to a place where it no longer stole from you the abiding truth and knowledge that you are loved, you are worthy of love, and in God’s eyes, you are absolutely enough. 

Because that is the business of Jesus, after all: to show us and tell us in many and various ways that we are beloved by God, and no matter who we are, what we do, what we experience or live with every day, whatever death or loss or ending we may experience – nothing can ever change how much God loves us, and God will always work to bring us from the place of death, back toward life. This is our story, you see – it is a story of God seeking us out, connecting with us, restoring to us our given name, “child of God,” and granting us life.

There’s one more place to find our story in this story. It’s that bit at the end – where Jesus gives the man a new purpose with his new life: go and declare how much God has done for you. Tell you friends your story, about how our God of life did not or does not leave you hanging out there by the tombs, shackled and disconnected. Tell your story, about how God has brought or is bringing life out of your death, and hope out of your despair. Proclaim to all how Jesus has changed your life, and how much Jesus has done for you. 

This story is our story. So let’s go out and live like it!

Let us pray… Life-giving God, we all live with stuff and baggage and challenges that keep us from living a life of joy in your gospel. Help us to seek your presence in our lives, and to be ever aware of the ways you are calling our stuff by its name, and working to send it away so that we might once again have life. Embolden us, then, to tell our story, your story, to those who need to hear it. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

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

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

INTRODUCTION

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

[READ]

From Grace's book about the Trinity.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Based on Genesis 11, Tower of Babel

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Enter the Holy Spirit on that Day of Pentecost….

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

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

INTRODUCTION:

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

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

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

[READ]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

INTRODUCTION

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

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

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

[READ]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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