Calvary Presbyterian Church, San Francisco

Sermon 04.12.2026: Doubting as Faith

Sun, 12 Apr 2026 01:57:26 GMT

On this Confirmation Sunday, we read about Thomas, the disciple who doubted and would not believe until he saw Jesus with his own eyes. He is usually viewed negatively, but certainity is the very opposite of faith. Without our doubts, how can we profess to have faith? Join us this Sunday and bring your faith and your doubts!

Scripture

John 20:19-31

19 When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” 20 After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. 21 Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” 22 When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit. 23 If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.” 24 But Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. 25 So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord.” But he said to them, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.”

26 A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” 27 Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.” 28 Thomas answered him, “My Lord and my God!” 29 Jesus said to him, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” 30 Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. 31 But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.

Sermon

One of the things that I love about social media is the animal videos I've always been a fan of animals. They’re fascinating and often cute. And social media offers a virtual place where I can go to see everyone's cute videos in one place. I love watching baby pandas roll around and fall. I eagerly wait to see if your dog will put his paw into the hands-in pile.

A few months ago, I reposted an adorable video caught by a night-vision camera of 3 bear cubs jumping on a trampoline in someone's backyard. It was hilarious and so cute.

But then, our dear Jess Churchill, who is younger and more tech savvy than I am, sent me a message privately on Instagram that said, “Oh Joann, that's AI.”

I was shook. I knew AI was creating images and videos that might not be real. But I thought they’d be more exaggerated or more obvious, showing things that were larger than life or beyond reality. But 3 baby bears, jumping on a trampoline. Why would someone even bother to fake that?!

And how could I have been so fooled?

Friends, we are living in times when we have to question, even the things we see with our very own eyes. So, being a critical thinker is more important than ever.

Some people call the disciple Thomas from our Bible story today, the “Patron Saint of Critical Thinking.” He's actually better known as the Doubting Thomas.

But I think that this Thomas, from nearly 2000 years ago, without even realizing it, was setting an example for Christians and people of faith living in the 21st century. Today, we are saturated by partisan (and not always factual) news. We are witnessing AI generated images and videos that seem so real. Our social media personas are curated to show a certain side of who we are, not necessarily the reality of our lives. And we are hearing from politicians and leaders who sometimes seem incapable of just telling the truth.

If anything, we need more Doubting Thomases in our world these days, not less. We need people willing to track down the truth, ask for evidence and demand proof before simply believing whatever they hear, read, or see.

Now, I know that those of you parenting teenagers who are constantly critical of what you say or doubtful of your advice, may find this very frustrating. I, too, sometimes wish my children would just trust me and do as I say. But I promise you, we want our kids to be critical thinkers, even if it starts with being critical of us.

As a pastor who has had the great privilege of walking with many confirmation classes, I will say that doubting and questioning as a form of faith is 100% legit. Grappling with, struggling with it, and doubting our faith is how we get good, faithful followers of Jesus who stand up to injustice, who dream of new ways to order our lives, and who question the powers that be that oppress and harm others.

We can’t say, “We want you to be like Jesus,” but only mean some of the ways of Jesus. Yes, of course, he was kind and generous and compassionate. But Jesus also questioned authority; flipped over tables: sat and ate with people that had a checkered history and a storied past.

In fact, the only story we have of Jesus as a teenager shows him debating the elders in the Temple as his parents frantically search for him for three days! I imagine he wasn’t the easiest child or teen to raise.

And he certainly wasn’t the most obedient young man in the synagogue. He healed on the sabbath and touched those deemed unclean.

Jesus also reinterpreted and reimagined what the scriptures of his day meant for those living in his time. Remember “An eye for an eye?” (Exodus 24:30) That was the standard practice laid out in Exodus, Leviticus, and Deuteronomy.

But then this young upstart named Jesus says: “You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I say to you: Do not resist an evildoer. If anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also, and if anyone wants to sue you and take your shirt, give your coat as well,” (Matthew 5:38-40).

Your see, Jesus knew the faith of his ancestors. And he knew his scriptures well. But he wasn’t afraid to question them, to challenge them, and to doubt whether this is really what God would want for us today.

So maybe, Thomas, a disciple of Jesus, learned from his teacher that doubting and questioning are okay. And when his buddy Peter or James or John posts a video of Jesus walking around in the upper room after he’s been crucified, Thomas has the sense to pause and ask, wait, is this AI? Is that really Jesus? What are their sources? And from whom are they getting their information?

Good ole Thomas. The patron saint of critical thinking.

When we read a few verses ahead of today’s scripture, though, we learn that all of the disciples doubted. And none of them were really able to believe in resurrection until they saw it for themselves. Mary Magadlene had already told them that Jesus was alive. But where are they and what are they doing at the start of the story? They are hiding behind locked doors because they are scared.

In fact, Thomas is the only one who was brave enough to leave the house and venture beyond those locked doors. The reason he’s missing at Jesus’ initial appearance, is presumably because he’s the only one brave enough to leave the house.

Thomas is out and about, probably getting his terrified friends something to eat. And while he’s gone, all the other disciples see Jesus. Thomas simply asks for that same experience, for that same kind of confirmation.

If nothing else, today’s scripture passage normalizes doubt. It is common, expected even, that we would have doubts. After all, each and every one of the disciples doubted.

And doubt is not the enemy of faith. Rather doubting is a part of faith. Paul Tillich says, “the opposite of faith isn’t doubt, the opposite of faith is certainty.” Because certainty no longer requires faith. But doubt is an inherent element of faith.

It’s that very unknowing, that requires us to take a leap of faith, towards something that we cannot fully understand, but that we try and hold onto anyway.

Our confirmands read their statements of faith to our session last month. These statements of faith were honest, profound, and at times, they sounded more like statements of doubt. They asked questions and expressed uncertainty.

But I believe a healthy community of faith can not only affirm what we believe but can also affirm that we all have doubts.

In fact, if you ever come across a church or a faith community that won’t let you express your doubts or question what they call the “Truth,” I suggest running the other way. Because what they’re about isn’t faith. It’s about control. And it is far from biblical.

So perhaps, we are to create communities that are more like Thomas; communities that ask the questions and have a desire to continue to learn and grow and to be critical of what we see and hear.

After all, we worship a God who loves us unconditionally and invites us to struggle and wrestle with that which we don’t understand. This is the same God who wrestled all night with Jacob in the wilderness. And God welcomes us to do the same.

Not because we’re right or because we know better than God. But because God wants us to be honest and true and bring the fullness of who we are, doubts and all.

There are some things we will never know, that will always remain a mystery. But that’s precisely where faith comes in.

Today, our confirmands will be presented and received. We even have the joy of a baptism this morning. But confirmation is not the destination; it is just the beginning of their faith journeys. They come with questions, uncertainties, and doubts. But they make a commitment to this church and to God any way.

Sometimes our actions precede our faith and understanding. Because sometimes what we do helps us learn and gain insight about what we believe.

Sometimes cooking that meal at the homeless shelter, praying with a friend through a difficult time, or advocating for just and compassionate laws help us live out our faith rather than just trying to believe in it.

All of us have doubts, and all of us have fears. But we can learn from our confirmands today, and step out and live out our faith any way. And in our doing, in our living, we may just see and experience Jesus.

Mother Theresa used to say, “I see Jesus in every human being.” She said that as a means to explain why she lived her life serving those who lived in poverty. She didn’t do it because she wanted to be like Jesus. But rather, because when she did it, she witnessed and saw Jesus in those whom she served.

That’s what Matthew 25 is all about – serving Jesus, seeing Jesus, and experiencing Jesus as we encounter others.

Glennon Doyle author and podcaster shares this in one of her books,

“I am a child of God, and so is everyone else …

In each new person, I see an invitation to know a new side of God.

There are as many sides of [God] as there are people walking the earth.

I think that’s why [s]he keeps making people.

He’s not done telling us about herself yet.”

(Carry on Warrior: The Power of Embracing Your Messy, Beautiful Life. pg 176).

Friends, as we welcome this new class of confirmands today, remember that you are a child of God, just as every one of these youth are children of God, and just as every one we meet today and every day forward is a child of God.

And I want you to know that your doubts are welcome here. You do not have to question alone.

In every step of our journey of faith, God promises to be with us. And this community is with you, too. Thanks be to God, Amen

Sermon 04.05.2026: While It Was Still Dark

Sun, 05 Apr 2026 21:42:54 GMT

Mary went to the tomb on Easter morning while it was still dark. She encountered the living Christ not after day had dawned, not when things were looking hopeful, but while it was still dark.

What might the Easter story have to say to our world today? Where is resurrection in our midst?

Scripture

John 20:1-18

Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb. So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, ‘They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.’ Then Peter and the other disciple set out and went towards the tomb. The two were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. He bent down to look in and saw the linen wrappings lying there, but he did not go in. Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb. He saw the linen wrappings lying there, and the cloth that had been on Jesus’ head, not lying with the linen wrappings but rolled up in a place by itself. Then the other disciple, who reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed;

for as yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead. Then the disciples returned to their homes.

But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb; and she saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying, one at the head and the other at the feet. They said to her, ‘Woman, why are you weeping?’ She said to them, ‘They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.’ When she had said this, she turned round and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to her, ‘Woman, why are you weeping? For whom are you looking?’ Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, ‘Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.’ Jesus said to her, ‘Mary!’ She turned and said to him in Hebrew, ‘Rabbouni!’ (which means Teacher). Jesus said to her, ‘Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and say to them, “I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.” ’ Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, ‘I have seen the Lord’; and she told them that he had said these things to her.

Sermon

The story of Easter is ultimately a reminder that even when we think we know how a story is going to end, we ’re sometimes wrong.

For Jesus ’friends and families, they ’d seen his death, witnessed his burial. They knew the ending to this story because they had seen it before.

But then Mary arrives, while it is still dark, and finds an empty tomb.

What are the stories in your life right now that you think you know the ending to?

Maybe you think the end of a relationship is the end of love. Are you willing to be wrong about that?

Maybe you think that because the problems we are facing in society are so big, they are too much for us to fix, and they will always be dreadful and so why should we even try? Are you willing to be wrong about that?

I was adopted as an infant, and back in the 1900s, adoptions were closed. I knew I would never know who my birth parents were. I knew I would never meet any of my birth family, or know who I looked like, or meet the people who were responsible for my somewhat spicy personality.

I knew the ending to that story.

And then in 2014 Washington State passed a law that opened sealed birth records. And while I don’t have time to give you all the tea, because I know some of you have brunch reservations, I have met much of my birth family. I know who I look like. I can now see who my children look like on my side of the family, other than me. I was wrong about what I thought was the end of my adoption story.

Whatever story you think you can already see the ending for, Easter is a reminder to pause. To hope. To trust that the unknown future will turn out to be loving.

Are we willing to be wrong if it means we just might see new life? Are we willing to get past our fears to do what God is calling us to do?

And Mary goes to the tomb while it is still dark, when it is hard to see the path around you. In the other gospels, there is a sense that the women have come to the tomb to anoint his body. But Mary doesn’t seem to be carrying any spices with her. It may be the dark of night, but she has come to see Jesus.

Even though she thinks he’s dead.

Jesus cares a lot about seeing and believing in John ’s Gospel. All throughout the Gospel, characters are told to look around them, to pay attention to what they see, so that they may believe in Jesus. In the beginning of the gospel, as Jesus calls the first disciples, they are invited to “come and see” as they join him on the journey.

And once the people see things in John ’s Gospel, then they believe.

— The guests at the wedding in Cana where Jesus performed the first of his signs,

—Nicodemus, who wondered how to be born again,

—the Samaritan Woman at the Well who wondered at this man who told her everything she ’d ever done,

—the man who once was blind but now can see proclaims Jesus as Lord,

—and many of the people who see Jesus call Lazarus out of his tomb see and believe in Jesus.

And it is hard to see clearly in the dark.

This is a familiar gospel story for me, but this year as I was preparing to preach this story, I noticed John mentions that Mary went to the tomb while it was still dark. Not in the brightness of the noonday sun. Not in the muted colors of sunrise or sunset. She went to the tomb while it was still dark.

I think that’s important for us today. Because the world feels dark. We’re divided. I know political division is not new. But it feels deeper now. And it feels like we’re intentionally being divided from each other by a system that benefits from our isolation. We’re walking in the dark.

We’re worried for our troops, who are in harm’s way as war is being waged without congressional approval and without a clear objective. We’re walking in the dark.

We’re anxious about the economy with rising prices and global instability. We’re walking in the dark.

When you’re out walking in the dark, even if the path is a familiar one, things look different, sometimes menacing even. Even when you’ve walked the path in the brightness of daylight, it looks different in the dark.

And I appreciate that Mary didn’t wait for the sun to rise before she went looking for Jesus.

And I appreciate that Jesus met her in the dark, and called her by name.

Before she meets Jesus, though, she encounters angels, sitting where his body had been. “Woman, why are you weeping?”

“They have taken my Lord and I do not know where they have laid him!” she tells them.

Mary’s vision is not quite clear yet in the early morning dark. And though the men have left and gone back for breakfast, Mary is not alone. The angels accompany her in her confusion and grief.

And then she sees Jesus standing there and hears him ask, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?”

And even as she supposes him to be the gardener, you wonder if she begins to see and believe as she hears his voice.

Because she saw and heard Jesus call Lazarus out of the tomb.

Because she heard him talk about being the Resurrection and the Life.

Because she saw the signs of water into wine and the feeding of the crowd of thousands.

Because she heard him telling the disciples all about his being glorified and ascending to God the Father.

You wonder if the light is dawning on her, as all of those moments in the past are coming into clearer view. “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him and I will take him away.”

It is hard to let go of our belief in Death, our belief that we know the ending to the story.

And then Jesus calls her by name.

Mary.

And that ’s what it takes for Mary to turn around, away from an empty tomb, and away from seeing and believing in death, to seeing and believing in LIFE.

Being called by name.

We do not believe in an impersonal God, uninvolved in our lives. We believe in the God who meets us when we’ve come to the tomb while it is still dark, calls us by name and claims us as God’s own.

Mary.

She sees him in that moment and, finally, believes.

She returns to the disciples and announces, “I have seen the Lord”.

We are called, like Mary, to testify to what we have seen.

We are here, 2,000 years later because this woman told people that she had seen the Lord.

It matters that you tell people when you have seen God, because all these years later, we ’re still telling her story, even though in this text, at least, Mary’s best qualifications for the job of evangelist seems to be that she was willing to walk in the dark to try to find Jesus, and she recognized his voice when he called her name.

And so, like Mary, the church is called to bear witness to where we have seen God. Because you better believe there are people out there feeling the darkness, people who are isolated and feeling alone in the dark. They need to know they aren’t alone.

+++

When I was in seminary, I had the privilege of traveling in the Middle East for a month. While it was still dark, we rode camels and then hiked up to the top of Mt Sinai in Egypt, where Moses is said to have received the 10 commandments.

It is challenging to walk up a mountain in the dark, even if your eyes adjust to the darkness and figure out how to let the moonlight be enough. And then we got to the top and sat there, waiting for the sunrise. We could hear a few other voices, but since we didn’t really know what the top of the mountain looked like, it was hard to know where they were, or where we were, for that matter.

Even with the other voices, it felt like we were alone on the mountain.

Until the sun rose, and we realized there were thousands of people, from all over the world, who had also climbed the mountain while it was dark. Every different kind of clothing. People singing and praying in many different languages. It was the best kind of cacophony.

+++

Just as Mary couldn’t hang on to the resurrected Jesus in the garden, we can ’t either. Because the mystery of the Resurrection is still in process and there is a world out there that needs to hear a message of hope instead of the world ’s message of fear and anxiety. We can ’t just stop on Easter morning. We have Good News to share!

I have seen the Lord is a first-person testimony.

When the world tries to tell us death will win, we testify we have seen and we believe something different. We have seen an empty tomb. We have seen grave clothes abandoned as unnecessary accessories. We have seen the Lord and heard him call our names.

We are people who look at the violence, injustice, and oppression in the world and still claim that Death is not going to have the last word. We are people who claim there is a mystery at work, and so we have work to do so the world may better reflect God ’s vision of love, justice, and peace.

We are people who have seen and believe in Life, even as we stand in the chaos of the world around us. To say I have seen the Lord is not to deny death or injustice or cruelty. It is to claim they do not have the final answer. We have walked in the darkness, and Jesus meets us there, calls us by name, and sends us out into the light of day to testify. We have seen the Lord.

There’s a refrain we use often at Christmas, from the prophet Isaiah.

The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness— on them light has shined.

May it be an easter refrain as well. Mary’s morning began while it was still dark, but it didn’t end in the dark.

So, go from this place today, with refrains of alleluia still ringing in your ears, and share the Good News. Love has come, a light in the darkness. We have seen the Lord.

Amen.

Benediction:

Friends, do not hold on to the way things used to be, because new life has come. Go and tell the others: we have seen the Lord, he is risen indeed! And as you go from this place, trust that the future will be loving; that what we see as endings may still have chapters to be written. Go in peace to love and serve the Lord who calls each of us by name.

Sermon 03.29.2026: Enough is Enough

Sun, 29 Mar 2026 18:41:34 GMT

What we get before Palm Sunday in John’s gospel is the story of people who are ALL IN, saying enough is enough if a culture of violence wants to keep people in their graves. Enough is enough if generosity and abundance are scorned. Enough is enough if talking about new life is threatening to people in power . They lead us to the parade with the reminder to give it all away for love.

Scripture

John 12:1-27

Six days before the Passover Jesus came to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. There they gave a dinner for him. Martha served, and Lazarus was one of those at the table with him. Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus’ feet, and wiped them with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume. But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (the one who was about to betray him), said, “Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?” (He said this not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief; he kept the common purse and used to steal what was put into it.) Jesus said, “Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial. You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.” When the great crowd of the Jews learned that he was there, they came not only because of Jesus but also to see Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. So the chief priests planned to put Lazarus to death as well, since it was on account of him that many of the Jews were deserting and were believing in Jesus.

The next day the great crowd that had come to the festival heard that Jesus was coming to Jerusalem. So they took branches of palm trees and went out to meet him, shouting, “Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord— the King of Israel!” Jesus found a young donkey and sat on it; as it is written: “Do not be afraid, daughter of Zion. Look, your king is coming, sitting on a donkey’s colt!” His disciples did not understand these things at first; but when Jesus was glorified, then they remembered that these things had been written of him and had been done to him. So the crowd that had been with him when he called Lazarus out of the tomb and raised him from the dead continued to testify. It was also because they heard that he had performed this sign that the crowd went to meet him. The Pharisees then said to one another, “You see, you can do nothing. Look, the world has gone after him!”

Now among those who went up to worship at the festival were some Greeks. They came to Philip, who was from Bethsaida in Galilee, and said to him, “Sir, we wish to see Jesus.” Philip went and told Andrew; then Andrew and Philip went and told Jesus. Jesus answered them, “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honor.

“Now my soul is troubled. And what should I say—‘Father, save me from this hour’? No, it is for this reason that I have come to this hour.

John 19:16b-22

Then Pilate handed Jesus over to them to be crucified.

So they took Jesus, and carrying the cross by himself he went out to what is called the Place of the Skull, which in Hebrew is called Golgotha. There they crucified him and with him two others, one on either side, with Jesus between them. Pilate also had an inscription written and put on the cross. It read, “Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews.” Many of the Jews read this inscription because the place where Jesus was crucified was near the city, and it was written in Hebrew, in Latin, and in Greek. Then the chief priests of the Jews said to Pilate, “Do not write, ‘The King of the Jews,’ but, ‘This man said, I am King of the Jews.’ ” Pilate answered, “What I have written I have written.”

Sermon

The last time we saw this family, a few chapters back, Mary and Martha were in deep grief because their brother Lazarus was three days dead. dead. dead. And Mary and Martha make some great affirmations of faith to Jesus as they talk to him outside their brothers’ tomb. “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. Yet, even now I know that God will give you what ever you ask of him.”

And our text this morning opened with “Jesus came to the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead.” John is reminding us that this family can talk to us about life after death.

Lazarus was buried and three days in the tomb, but is now hosting a dinner party.

And Mary, perhaps in response to this new life Jesus has given her brother Lazarus, takes a pound of Nard and pours it all over his feet. Because this action is so foreign to us, I think we miss out on the extravagance. It isn’t often, I suspect, that someone washes your feet with their hair. With nard.

It was an extravagant gift from Mary to Jesus, an offering of love that was very personal. It was a sign, also, that during all of those times she sat at his feet and listened while he talked— she actually heard what he was saying about “coming that people might have new life and have it abundantly”—she understood when he said he was headed to the cross that he was heading to his death.

She understood there is no reason to hoard what we have in this life. We are to pour it all out, as a ridiculous act of generosity that signals our hope is not in earthly possessions but in new life offered by God. Because what we have is enough. And enough is enough.

Nard was a very expensive and concentrated resin that was used to anoint dead bodies. She is giving Jesus the gift that she didn’t have to give her no longer dead brother, Lazarus.

Judas ’comment gets us off track. Why was this perfume not sold for 300 denari and given to the poor?” , he asks.

And when he puts it like that, thief and traitor that he is , we see his point. A Roman soldier at that time earned a little over 200 denari a year, so this one pound jar of Nard was worth around, what, 100 thousand dollars?

It was a gift of great value.

Judas sets up a false choice for us. It wasn’t that Mary won the lottery, had a lot of cash, and decided to go buy some really expensive perfume as she walked by the homeless people on the street. It would have taken a long time, I suspect, for her family to save up for that pound of Nard so that they could show love, honor, and respect to their loved ones as they died.

This gift she gives Jesus shows that she understands that new life is breaking into the world in the person of Jesus of Nazareth. This man who brought her brother back from the dead is changing everything.

How many of you have received a gift that was so staggering and surprising that it caught you off guard? Mary recognized that they were receiving that kind of gift in the life of Jesus Christ, and she responds with the most extravagant gift she can dream up. And while having your feet washed with embalming ointment by someone’s hair may not be what you are asking for on your next birthday, Jesus recognizes the gift.

“Leave her alone,” he tells Judas. “She bought it so she might keep it for the day of my burial. You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.”

In other words, Jesus is letting Judas and the others know that the systems that keep people poor, homeless, and hungry will always be here. He isn’t saying it as a promise, to beat down the dreams of people who want to rise above their situations and those who want to help them. He’s not saying, “don't worry about the poor, they’ll always be around.”

He says it with some degree of judgment, and causation. “Because of the way you steal from the common purse and pursue your own interests above those of everyone else, because of your complicity in wealth inequality—you will always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.”

These words from Jesus should call us to renewed purpose for the improvement of the lives of others. Rather than putting down the extravagant gifts that people bring to Jesus, we should all live our lives with Mary’s faith and gratitude.

This new life we recognize in the person of Jesus Christ can change lives, now, not just someday in the future. “I have come that you might have life and have it abundantly ”, Jesus says in John’s gospel.

Mary, Martha, and Lazarus live fully into New Life.

Martha prepares a dinner party with Jesus, even though eating dinner with him is seditious.

Mary openly declares her abundant faith in Jesus ’words by anointing his feet with perfume.

Lazarus walks out of his tomb and into new life with courage and confidence.

Lazarus probably could have told us that the decision to listen to Jesus and to walk out of his tomb gave him new life and also gave him a whole new set of issues. The raising of Lazarus was the final straw for the Jewish leaders about Jesus. They are actively plotting Jesus ’death from this point on.

And religious leaders weren’t big fans of Lazarus either. Everywhere Lazarus went, the people said, “Hey—theres the guy Jesus brought back from death! ” Our text even tells us this, “When the great crowd learned that Jesus was there, they came not only because of Jesus, but also to see Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. So the chief priests planned to put Lazarus to death as well, since it was on account of him that many of the Jews were deserting and were believing in Jesus.”

Living into New Life, walking out of the tombs in which we find ourselves is not without risk when the world wants to keep us in our graves. As Jesus watches people threaten to kill his friend, when the only crime he’s guilty of is not being dead—Jesus says enough is enough. And he leads a protest march into Jerusalem.

What we get before Palm Sunday in John’s gospel is the story of people who are ALL IN, saying enough is enough if a culture of violence wants to keep people in their graves. Enough is enough if generosity and abundance are scorned. Enough is enough if talking about new life is threatening to people in power. They lead us to the parade with the reminder to give it all away for love.

Frederick Buechner once wrote:

The life you clutch, hoard, guard, and play safe with is in the end a life worth little to anybody, including yourself, and only a life given away for love's sake is a life worth living.”

The crowd at Palm Sunday is there for Jesus, there to greet a scandalous celebrity.

They are not all in, the way Lazarus, Mary, and Martha are. The crowd crying hosanna or “save us” is the same crowd who will shortly chant “ crucify him! ”.

They want an easy solution, someone to ride in like a king, the way Caesar would, and take on the Roman occupation, to make their lives easier. They want a new life too. They aren’t willing to go all in for it, though.

We are often like the crowd—wanting the easy solution—a hero to ride into town and just fix things already.

Listen again to that quote from Buechner: "The life you clutch, hoard, guard, and play safe with is in the end a life worth little to anybody, including yourself, and only a life given away for love's sake is a life worth living.”

There was a palm Sunday parade of sorts yesterday across the country as millions of people said no to having a king, no to having a caesar. Enough is enough. We’re through with cruelty, with ignoring the rule of law, with waging unjust wars just to distract us from the Epstein files. Enough is enough .

Hosanna, save us, we cry. Because enough is also enough. We have enough resources to be able to feed and care for each other. We have enough capacity as a nation to welcome people to our shores. We have enough creativity to solve difficult problems if we choose to. We have enough to trust in the abundance of God and be generous in our welcome. Enough is enough.

The life you clutch, hoard, guard, and play safe with is in the end a life worth little to anybody, including yourself, and only a life given away for love's sake is a life worth living.”

What are we willing to give away for love’s sake?

The crowd at the palm Sunday parade includes Greeks, or gentiles. It is no longer a family dispute, it is no longer only an issue for the Jewish people. As the pharisees observe: “Look, the world has gone after him!”

The crowd says to one of the disciples: “Sir, we wish to see Jesus”. We hear their wish and remember the invitation at the beginning of the gospel as Jesus invites the disciples to “come and see”.

When the disciple tells Jesus the world has showed up in answer to the invitation, Jesus says, “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.”

The image of seeds, buried in the earth for a time, cracked open, emptied, as new life emerges, seedlings sprouting from the soil—we understand that part.

The next verse about loving and hating their lives—that is trickier. Listen to it from another translation:

If you love your life, you will lose it. If you give it up in this world, you will be given eternal life. (John 12:25)

The Contemporary English Version translation hearkens back to Mary’s gift of foot washing, giving up the things we value and possess in this life for love, in order to have new life. If we only love earthly values of prosperity, and victory through power, and selfish concern—we lose. If we give up those earthly priorities—we gain new life in Christ.

Today is Palm Sunday, which was a protest march to show the absurdity of military parades our leaders orchestrate for their own glory. Riding past into Jerusalem on a big white Roman horse with tanks and troops in formation, is contrasted to Jesus on a donkey. The Roman leader’s parades were to turn human adulation toward kingship. Jesus ’ parades shows that he is marching against human understanding of kingship, revealing God’s glory. As Jesus said after the parade, “the hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified” . The glorification of Jesus will not be the glorification of violence and might we humans lift up. It will be the glorification of peace in the face of violence, and the glorification of love that is all in, committed to give up life in the pursuit of love.

Is enough enough?

It won’t be for the crowd.

Our second scripture passage this morning turns us toward the rest of our Holy Week journey and picks up where we ended last Sunday:

John 19:16b-22

Then Pilate handed Jesus over to them to be crucified.

So they took Jesus, and carrying the cross by himself he went out to what is called the Place of the Skull, which in Hebrew is called Golgotha. There they crucified him and with him two others, one on either side, with Jesus between them. Pilate also had an inscription written and put on the cross. It read, Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews.” Many of the Jews read this inscription because the place where Jesus was crucified was near the city, and it was written in Hebrew, in Latin, and in Greek. Then the chief priests of the Jews said to Pilate, Do not write, The King of the Jews,but, This man said, I am King of the Jews.’” Pilate answered, What I have written I have written.”

We’ll hear more of this story on Maundy Thursday at Church Night and on Good Friday. And I hope you can join us those nights. But what I want us to notice in this passage is what Pilate writes and what he says.

He proclaims Jesus’ kingship in every language needed so that everyone would see this was the King of the Jews. What I have written I have written, he said. Enough is enough. The religious leaders want to say their king is God at the same time they say they have no king but the emperor. Enough is enough, says Pilate. You had a king and you offered him as the lamb to be sacrificed for the passover meal.

Pilate, the Roman oppressor, sees Jesus perhaps more clearly than most people in the story, which is surely a condemnation for the people who had been studying their bibles looking for the messiah for generations.

As we journey during this Holy Week toward Easter, I pray that we will be willing, like Lazarus, Martha and Mary, to stay with Jesus when the crowds vanish, when the cheering crowds turn into a mob. May we invite him to our house for dinner when it is not the popular thing to do. May we wash his feet with nard, offering him a gift so extravagant that he sees our gratitude for this gift of New Life that we have been given. May we see Jesus as clearly as Pilate does, and be on the lookout for people from outside our traditions who may have truths to speak to us that we aren’t expecting.

We enter Holy Week, hanging on to hope that enough is enough. Hosanna, save us, Lord.

Sermon 03.22.2026: No King but the Emperor

Sun, 22 Mar 2026 00:02:33 GMT

In this passage from John's gospel, we're reminded that while the occupying Roman government murdered Jesus, they did so with the encouragement of Jesus' own people.

What does this story have to say for how we live together, how we acknowledge our mistakes, and how we are called to be faithful today?

Scripture

John 19:1-16a

Then Pilate took Jesus and had him flogged. And the soldiers wove a crown of thorns and put it on his head, and they dressed him in a purple robe. They kept coming up to him, saying, ‘Hail, King of the Jews!’ and striking him on the face. Pilate went out again and said to them, ‘Look, I am bringing him out to you to let you know that I find no case against him.’ So Jesus came out, wearing the crown of thorns and the purple robe. Pilate said to them, ‘Here is the man!’ When the chief priests and the police saw him, they shouted, ‘Crucify him! Crucify him!’ Pilate said to them, ‘Take him yourselves and crucify him; I find no case against him.’ The people answered him, ‘We have a law, and according to that law he ought to die because he has claimed to be the Son of God.’

Now when Pilate heard this, he was more afraid than ever. He entered his headquarters again and asked Jesus, ‘Where are you from?’ But Jesus gave him no answer. Pilate therefore said to him, ‘Do you refuse to speak to me? Do you not know that I have power to release you, and power to crucify you?’ Jesus answered him, ‘You would have no power over me unless it had been given you from above; therefore the one who handed me over to you is guilty of a greater sin.’ From then on Pilate tried to release him, but the people cried out, ‘If you release this man, you are no friend of the emperor. Everyone who claims to be a king sets himself against the emperor.’

When Pilate heard these words, he brought Jesus outside and sat on the judge’s bench at a place called The Stone Pavement, or in Hebrew Gabbatha. Now it was the day of Preparation for the Passover; and it was about noon. He said to the people, ‘Here is your King!’ They cried out, ‘Away with him! Away with him! Crucify him!’ Pilate asked them, ‘Shall I crucify your King?’ The chief priests answered, ‘We have no king but the emperor.’ Then he handed him over to them to be crucified.

Sermon

In last week's episode, Jesus' trial with Pontius Pilate begins. The religious leaders are looking for someone to do the dirty work of killing Jesus for them. Pilate is more concerned with keeping the peace during the religious holiday of Passover, than he is interested in the minutiae of Jewish law. He wonders what Jesus did to annoy his own people. He wonders why the Jewish people would want to kill their own king. He wonders how he can get out of this and not have a riot break out. At the end of last week’s passage, Pilate asks Jesus “what is truth?”. In this passage today, we will get an answer, so to speak.

In addition to asking about Truth, Pilate wanted to know about kingship. He asked if Jesus was the “king of the Jews” Jesus responded with “my kingdom is not from this world…”. Jesus ’words don’t deny he’s a king, and they don’t settle the matter in a clear way.

In today’s story, we don’t hear much about Jesus ’kingdom, but Jesus is presented as the King, even if a king to be mocked. Soldiers flog Jesus and hit him in the face as they have him wear a “kingly" crown of thorns and purple robe. Pilate offers the Jews their king, trying to be done with the whole matter. The religious leaders will deny Jesus ’authority and kingship.

In Matthew’s gospel, Jesus often talks in parables that begin with “The kingdom of heaven is like…”

treasure hidden in a field

a mustard seed

leaven

Jesus doesn’t tell those stories in John’s gospel. His words, his stories, don’t describe the kingdom of heaven. His entire life is the story to show us what the king of heaven looks like.

Earlier in John’s gospel, Phillip says to Jesus, Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied.” Jesus replied to Phillip, Have I been with you all this time, Philip, and you still do not know me? Whoever has seen me has seen the Father.” (14:8-9)

We are to look at Jesus to see who God is, to see what kind of King God is, to get a glimpse of God’s kingdom.

Which then leads Pilate to ask his next question of Jesus. Where are you from?

The story reports Pilate is “more afraid than ever” as he asks that question. He still doesn’t seem to know what is going on, but perhaps it is starting to dawn on him that there will be no simple solution to this problem.

Jesus doesn’t answer Pilate. Perhaps because Jesus is the answer.

Ironically, Pilate had just paraded Jesus in crown and robe, beaten and bruised, in front of the crowds and declared, “behold the man!” The art on the cover of your bulletin is titled that in Latin. Behold, the man. Later, he says, “behold your king!” Pilate unwittingly becomes an instrument to offer Jesus as king, displayed to the world.

Even as Pilate thinks he is mocking Jesus as a weak king without subjects or authority, what he really does is reveal the hollowness of his own power, the lack of authority he truly possesses in the situation, and the utter difference between kingship as contrived by humanity and as embodied by God.

Pilate’s human authority beats an unarmed man to appease a crowd. God's authority absorbs the violence but will not return violence to the world that God loves.

Pilate’s human authority requires threatening questions, posturing about his power, and diminishing his conversation partners through mockery.

God's authority doesn’t demean others, it doesn’t beg for validation, it leaves room for others to claim dignity and humanity.

Behold your king!

Where are you from?, Pilate asks.

The answer has already been given. At the beginning of the gospel.

"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being.”

Jesus is from the beginning.

Jesus is also “the way, the truth, and the life”, and truth is an important theme in this gospel. In all of

Jesus ’interactions in this story, he reveals what is true about himself. More than that, he causes the truth to be revealed about everyone else too, no matter what they might say. We see the truth of who Pilate is. And the truth of who the religious leaders are. People also unwittingly and unwillingly show us the truth, when the soldiers proclaim, “here is your king”, and when Jesus’ own people say “we have no king but the emperor”. Truth is all over this story, whether people want to see it or not.

It’s supposed to be the trial of Jesus, but at the end, it’s the religious leaders who stand condemned. As the chief priests at the end of this story tell Pilate “we have no king but the emperor”, they deny a fundamental tenet of their faith, and mock their own Passover liturgy.

Remember, this trial is taking place as Passover preparations are underway, a day where they proudly profess “we have no king but YHWH”. To say they have no king but the emperor is an egregious claim, and it further mocks their attempts to remain ritually clean for the passover.

One of my favorite Oscar Wilde quotes is, “The truth is rarely pure, and never simple.” There are things we would say are true, but sometimes it’s not something that connects to our lives in a real way. The truth of it doesn’t have legs.

I say I’m opposed to human caused climate change, for example. At the same time, I drive a gas powered car and fly on a lot of planes. What is really true for me? The truth is, I like to be comfortable more than I want to be inconvenienced with reducing human caused effects on the climate.

Or, someone might believe in small government, until there’s a natural disaster and they need governmental assistance, which reveals the real truth, which is maybe, that we want government to take care of us, but not everyone else.

Or, we say we believe in First Amendment rights to free speech and protests. Until the people who are peacefully protesting hold views that are different than ours. I confess I feel very differently about people with signs outside a Planned Parenthood clinic than I do about someone taking a knee during the national anthem.

We have a lot of unexamined “truths” in our lives.

This week, Delores Huerta shared a truth from her life that she had held on to for over 60 years about sexual violence at the hands of Cesar Chavez. More than 30 years after his death, new allegations of sexual abuse against labor leader Cesar Chavez are triggering fallout across California, including the cancellation of planned celebrations in his honor. Chavez, who co-founded the United Farm Workers and led national boycotts and labor campaigns, remains a central figure in Latino civil rights history. He was posthumously awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom in 1994, and his birthday was declared a U.S. federal commemorative holiday in 2014.

It is not uncommon for people to not come forward with truth about abuse, or to come forward decades later, because, quite frankly, we don’t tend to believe the people who do speak their truth. Even when we have emails from the bad guys, joking about the abuse, we still seem to ignore the cries of the victims. And while these stories will never be confirmed because Chavez is not alive to defend himself in court, the truth is that humans are complicated.

He led an important labor movement, AND it appears that he was violent toward women. Sometimes our unexamined truths are about the complicated nature of humanity. I am thankful to Huerta for speaking her truth now. When other women came forward with stories of his abuse, she realized it had not happened to her alone, that there were other victims.

We all live with a fair amount of hypocrisy. There is a human tendency to reinforce our biases. And we live in a culture that encourages us to not examine our inconsistencies, and that rewards people who flaunt them and who help us pretend they don’t exist.

The power of this scene in John’s gospel is that Jesus reveals all those places where our unexamined truths don’t match what we really believe.

For Pilate, he says he has lots of power. The way Jesus engages him in conversation reveals Pilate’s insecurity and his desire for approval. For the religious leaders, they claim to serve God, but they reveal they have no king but Caesar.

Behold your king!

Behold yourself.

Jesus embodied truth deeply and thoroughly in his very life, standing as a mirror to reveal our inconsistencies back to us. Not to shame us, but to reveal the limitations of relying on human kingdoms and human kingship.

Jesus' death on the cross will be the ultimate act of that revelation, showing us our violence cannot bring peace.

Mike McHargue is known as ‘science guy’, and also a Christian who has wrestled with faith, walked away from faith, and reconstructed his faith. He had a podcast I enjoy listening to called the Liturgists, and he wrote:

“The cross was not God’s invention—it was ours. In all our need for an eye for an eye, I have to wonder sometimes if God listened to us cry for blood and offered his own—if Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross was not to sate God’s wrath, but to show God’s response to ours.”

When we behold our king, as he’s on the way to the cross, we behold our own reliance on violence and we behold our need, our deep hunger, for another way.

There’s plenty of violence in our world today. I don’t have time to list it all. But as we think about our response to the violence of our government, the violence of nations against nations, the violence in our community, the violence in our own hearts, it is important that we don’t return violence with violence.

There is no path to peace through violence. But the path to peace may put you at risk, and in the path of the system that benefits from violence.

When we see people standing peacefully by their neighbors, asking ICE agents if they have a warrant, only to be attacked by the ICE agents, or arrested and detained themselves, it is a reminder that choosing peace and choosing justice is not a simple, or even safe choice.

How will we respond, as a country, as we see people standing in the face of violence, threats, and intimidation to reveal our violence back to us?

We pray every week to a God of peace as we live in a culture of violence.

As we move toward Holy Week, which begins next week with Palm Sunday, I invite us to live examined lives. I invite us to be aware of the times the media, or our nation’s leaders discourage us from that examination. As we watch Jesus journey to the cross, may it help us see Jesus more clearly, so we may know ourselves more deeply.

Our journey of Lent is intended to be a path of reflection and penitence and prayer. I am grateful to get to journey down this path with you.

Sermon 03.15.2026: Make Good Choices!

Sun, 15 Mar 2026 21:50:02 GMT

After Pilate examines Jesus, he finds no fault in him. And yet, he offers the crowd a choice any way: release Jesus or Barabbas? The crowd chooses Barabbas, a convicted criminal over Jesus. How do we continue to choose Barabbas over Jesus still today? Come worship with us as we try to make good choices that reflect Christ's love and peace.

Scripture

John 18:28-40

Then they took Jesus from Caiaphas to Pilate’s headquarters. It was early in the morning. They themselves did not enter the headquarters, so as to avoid ritual defilement and to be able to eat the Passover. So Pilate went out to them and said, ‘What accusation do you bring against this man?’ They answered, ‘If this man were not a criminal, we would not have handed him over to you.’ Pilate said to them, ‘Take him yourselves and judge him according to your law.’ The Jews replied, ‘We are not permitted to put anyone to death.’ (This was to fulfil what Jesus had said when he indicated the kind of death he was to die.)

Then Pilate entered the headquarters again, summoned Jesus, and asked him, ‘Are you the King of the Jews?’ Jesus answered, ‘Do you ask this on your own, or did others tell you about me?’ Pilate replied, ‘I am not a Jew, am I? Your own nation and the chief priests have handed you over to me. What have you done?’ Jesus answered, ‘My kingdom is not from this world. If my kingdom were from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews. But as it is, my kingdom is not from here.’ Pilate asked him, ‘So you are a king?’ Jesus answered, ‘You say that I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.’ Pilate asked him, ‘What is truth?’

After he had said this, he went out to the Jews again and told them, ‘I find no case against him. But you have a custom that I release someone for you at the Passover. Do you want me to release for you the King of the Jews?’ They shouted in reply, ‘Not this man, but Barabbas!’ Now Barabbas was a bandit.

Sermon

The average adult makes 35,000 decisions a day. 35,000! And that’s a low-ball estimate made by the authors of the book Out of Your Mind . [1] In it, they talk about how we, as a society, often face “choice overload,” and how that can negatively affect us.

I remember back in 2012, Vanity Fair ran an article that featured an interview with the then President Barak Obama that told us about how he tries to minimize the small decisions he must make. He said: “I’m trying to pare down decisions. I don’t want to make decisions about what I’m eating or wearing. Because I have too many other decisions to make.” [2]

He believed that routine and repetition (thus leading to less decisions on the small things of life) would then make him more ready and able to make the big, hard decisions in life, like how to best lead the country.

I remember this article well because Mike, my spouse, suggested I perhaps do something along the same lines, maybe wear the same clothes week to week, eat the same lunch day to day, because he had noticed that generally by the end of the day, when we were finally together again after school and work, I had experienced so much “choice overload” during the day, that I would have what psychologists call “decision fatigue.”

I didn’t know what I wanted to eat for dinner. I didn’t care what we watched on TV. I just couldn’t decide anymore.

I probably should’ve taken him up on this suggestion but instead, I took the road less traveled and opted to, every morning, throw a bunch of clothes on the bed agonizing on what to wear, then, trying to figure out if I was: taking a lunch to work or eating out, then, deciding: am I making a cup of tea at home or grabbing a fun matcha drink at the coffee shop.

So, ok, maybe it’s not the road less traveled, but it’s definitely the road less disciplined. And the road more chaotic.

But I fear, like the poet Frost, that I have come too far along this particular road to go any other way now. I am sorry. And, truth be told, I am also overwhelmed.

There are so many choices to make, and so many options for each choice. Have you been down the cereal aisle lately?

It is a great blessing, don’t get me wrong - these are first-world problems—but we face them day in and day out. It’s a part of our lives.

In the mid-90s, when I was but a wee teen, a Christian fad took hold, that tried to help young people make good choices. Bracelets and t-shirts and other swag with the letters WWJD could be found. And where I grew up, in Texas, they were everywhere!

Need to make a decision? WWJD–What would Jesus do? It was made to sound like this was the easy answer we had all been waiting for.

Unfortunately, WWJD didn’t quite seem to have the answers for the questions I had back then like: Should I go to the homecoming dance with my friend Mike? What cutesy combination of letters and numbers should I use for my instant messenger screen name? What colleges should I apply to? And should I take that AP class?

As it turns out, the gospels never mention who Jesus took to homecoming, or what classes he took at Hebrew school, or what nicknames he chose to go by. In fact, most of the gospels skip from Jesus’s birth to him being around age 30 which, quite frankly, did not feel very helpful for this high schooler who was very earnest on trying to figure out what Jesus would do.

If we look to the scriptures to help us make some of the decisions we face as 21st century Christians living in these United States, the answers will seem elusive. Jesus never had a computer or social media; if Jesus fell in love or got married, we certainly don’t hear about it. Jesus never rode in a car or traveled by plane. And when we try to overlay our choices onto his life in first century Palestine, too much is anachronistic!

The Bible is not an instruction manual for life that can tell us black and white answers to the everyday problems we face today.

So what if, instead of asking WWJD for the daily choices we need to make in life, we choose Jesus as the Way, the very road we choose to travel?

In the same gospel of John that we’re currently in, Jesus says, “I am the Way.” (John 14:6)

And early Christians called themselves “People of the Way.” By this, they meant that by walking and following in the ways of Jesus, we honor and love God, and we honor and love our neighbor. Because Jesus is the Way.

And in a time when truth is obfuscated or distorted, Pilate’s question is glaring: “What is truth?” Well, to continue the John 14:6: Jesus is the way, the truth and the life.

To choose Jesus is to choose truth and life.

In today’s story, however, when the people were faced with a decision between Jesus and Barrabas, they chose Barrabas.

Barrabas’s ways are familiar to us. We all know what it means to act out in anger, to choose violence, or to make a horrible mistake that harms others. He was a convicted criminal, and the people chose him any way.

I wish this story didn’t seem so familiar to us, even today. But we seem to have a penchant for choosing known criminals.

Choosing Jesus, on the other hand, means choosing the way of forgiveness–after all, he breaks bread even with Judas knowing that he will betray him.

Choosing the way of Jesus means choosing the way of non-violence–after all, he tells Peter who is trying to defend him to put away his sword.

Choosing the way of Jesus means choosing the way of humility and service—after all, he washes the feet of his disciples.

And choosing the way of Jesus means choosing the way of mercy and compassion—after all, he kept company with outcasts and sinners, sitting with the vulnerable and the most marginalized of his day.

Unfortunately, choosing Jesus was not popular back then, and it’s not popular today.

Invoking the name of Jesus has gotten real popular! But actually walking and living the way of Jesus is still not something many people are willing to do.

We cannot start wars, bomb innocents, or climb the ladders of power and prestige while trampling the poor and meek when we walk the way of Jesus.

We cannot ignore victims of sexual exploitation, incarcerate immigrants in detention centers, or allow state-sponsored executions of black and brown bodies when we walk the way of Jesus.

There may be world leaders who invoke the name of Jesus to justify such actions, but when we read the gospels, the stories of Jesus show us a different way altogether.

The average adult makes 35,000 decisions a day. But what if one decision can set us onto a path that allows us to choose wisely throughout our lives?

And, what if this path allowed us to trip, fall, make mistakes and then try again? Because it is the path of resurrection and new life and forever do-overs?

The ultimate choice we face, really, is: Do we choose Jesus, or do we choose Barrabas?

To choose Barrabas, I believe, is easy. And, it is a failure of imagination. As mere mortals, it is hard to have faith and believe or even imagine that the world Jesus spoke of and was ushering in could be possible.

But the work of salvation–the healing and liberation of the world - has already been done by Jesus. And when we walk the way of Christ and take that way over all others, we partner with God in the repairing of this world.

So, what is one thing that might remind ourselves that this day, and everyday forward, we choose Jesus? Could we start the day with a moment of prayer or meditation? Could we read a few verses of scripture during lunch? Could we commit to attending a vigil outside the immigration building with the Interfaith Movement for Human Integrity once a month? Could we regularly help feed or serve others through Pack-a-Sack or the food pantry or the soup kitchen at Martin de Porres?

We have set ourselves on the path that leads to justice, peace, and new life. And I don’t know what I’m wearing tomorrow, but I do know I will stand with my neighbors who are facing hate crimes and deportations this day and every day. Because I choose Jesus. And Jesus said to love your neighbor.

Mary Walker, a poet in New Zealand, wrote a poem called “Choice.”

And perhaps it can help us make good choices. She writes:

Each day splits

into two, again and again—

hope or despair

faith or fear

love or judgement.

Nothing is inevitable

except, at each fork in the road,

the chance to choose

and then the need

to set your foot upon it.

What would hope do?

What, faith?

What, love?

Amen.

1 Cham, J., & Godwin, D. (2025). Out of Your Mind: The Biggest Mysteries of the Human Brain. Pantheon.

2 Vanity Fair article "Obama's Way" by Michael Lewis (October 2012)

Sermon 03.08.2026: I AM (not)

Sun, 08 Mar 2026 18:05:45 GMT

In today's reading, Peter denies Jesus three times.

Peter isn’t any worse than any other sheep in God’s flock. Here, at least, he’s also not better. We are people, like Peter, who deny.

We deny our connectedness.

We divide into “us and them”.

We seek easy answers to complicated questions.

Denial is not the end of Peter's story. It doesn't have to be the end of ours either. Whatever answer we have chosen in the past, we can always choose a new answer today.

Scripture

John 18:12-27

So the soldiers, their officer, and the Jewish police arrested Jesus and bound him. First they took him to Annas, who was the father-in-law of Caiaphas, the high priest that year. Caiaphas was the one who had advised the Jews that it was better to have one person die for the people.

Simon Peter and another disciple followed Jesus. Since that disciple was known to the high priest, he went with Jesus into the courtyard of the high priest, but Peter was standing outside at the gate. So the other disciple, who was known to the high priest, went out, spoke to the woman who guarded the gate, and brought Peter in. The woman said to Peter, ‘You are not also one of this man’s disciples, are you?’ He said, ‘I am not.’ Now the slaves and the police had made a charcoal fire because it was cold, and they were standing round it and warming themselves. Peter also was standing with them and warming himself.

Then the high priest questioned Jesus about his disciples and about his teaching. Jesus answered, ‘I have spoken openly to the world; I have always taught in synagogues and in the temple, where all the Jews come together. I have said nothing in secret. Why do you ask me? Ask those who heard what I said to them; they know what I said.’ When he had said this, one of the police standing nearby struck Jesus on the face, saying, ‘Is that how you answer the high priest?’ Jesus answered, ‘If I have spoken wrongly, testify to the wrong. But if I have spoken rightly, why do you strike me?’ Then Annas sent him bound to Caiaphas the high priest.

Now Simon Peter was standing and warming himself. They asked him, ‘You are not also one of his disciples, are you?’ Peter denied it and said, ‘I am not.’ One of the slaves of the high priest, a relative of the man whose ear Peter had cut off, asked, ‘Did I not see you in the garden with him?’ Again Peter denied it, and at that moment the cock crowed.

Sermon

Earlier in John's gospel, in chapter 10, is the story of Jesus as the good shepherd, as the gate for the sheep. Jesus said: “I am the gate. Whoever enters by me will be saved and will come in and go out and find pasture.”

Jesus is the gate through which we come into the shelter of the sheepfold and go out into the world with the thieves and bandits. In this story today, the Greek word for “sheepfold” is the same word used for “courtyard” . The Greek word for “gate” is the same word Jesus claims to say “I AM the gate”.

Jesus is the gate and all gates will lead us to Jesus. In all the stories of our lives, even the stories we wish we weren’t in— like the one where our rabbi has been arrested and we’re afraid we’ll be arrested too because the government soldiers are looking for dissidents —in all the courtyards/sheepfolds where we are as God’s flock, there are gates that will lead us to Jesus.

Peter and the other disciple continue their role as sheep in God’s beloved flock, and in this story, I’m reminded it is difficult for us to hear Jesus ’promise that we will be saved. Whoever enters by me will be saved, says Jesus. Peter seems to not have internalized his salvation yet. He’s deep in denial, still hoping that human sneakiness and power might save him.

Before the verses we heard this morning, Jesus has been arrested, betrayed by his own. Every time, coincidentally, the soldiers ask Jesus who he is, he answers honestly. No denials from Jesus.

Peter cuts off the ear of a soldier and Jesus tells Peter to put his weapons away. Violence may be the way the world works, but it isn’t how God’s flock is called to live. Salvation does not arrive through violence. Not even in the midst of the violence and the fears we inflict on each other. Jesus commands us to love. Violence will not bring salvation.

As one commentator on this passage wrote, “Violence is easier than testimony."

And so we end up in another courtyard, another sheepfold, as Jesus is taken to high priest. The other disciple with Peter and Jesus is known by the person at the gate, and so he goes in with Jesus. Peter is left in the courtyard until the other disciple comes out and says “he’s with us”. It’s as if Peter’s backstage pass didn’t come through and he needs someone to vouch for him. The woman at the gate then asks Peter, You are not also one of this mans disciples, are you? He said, ‘I am not.’

Reading this story, I wonder if Peter was ever really in danger here. He is clearly afraid. The first time he’s asked who he is, it’s so he can join his friends. The other disciple moves back and forth, through the gate, without interference. He doesn’t have the privilege of being anonymous, but it doesn’t seem to hinder him. The other times Peter’s asked, I can’t decide if they are trying to figure out who he is, where they’ve seen him before, or if they want to put him in the right box. Is Peter on their side, or on Jesus' side?

This past year, I read the book Bear Town they’ve pinned their hopes on success. It’s a great book about the good and bad sides of teams, of community, of future fears. In this book, he writes: by Fredrik Backman, who you may know better for the book, A Man Called Ove . Bear Town is a small town, facing the struggles small towns face. And the ice hockey team is where

Hate can be a deeply stimulating emotion. The world becomes easier to understand and much less terrifying if you divide everything and everyone into friends and enemies, we and they, good and evil. The easiest way to unite a group isn't through love, because love is hard, It makes demands. Hate is simple. So the first thing that happens in a conflict is that we choose a side, because that's easier than trying to hold two thoughts in our heads at the same time.”

All of that takes place in this courtyard story, doesn’t it? Jesus chooses his side, on the side of love, which is hard. Peter, for the moment, can’t hold two thoughts at the same time—he knows that salvation is from Jesus, and he’s afraid death is the worst thing that could happen.

Notice how light functions in John’s gospel too. Jesus is the light of the world, but he’s hidden away under arrest, so troops are running around with torches to bring light to the world and Peter stays warm by the light of the fire as he denies Jesus. They have chosen darkness by having the light of the world on the other side of the gate, bound, facing violence for speaking truth.

Jesus says “I AM” throughout John ’s gospel. Here, Peter says “I am not” . The contrast is stark, and is meant to be. Peter’s denial occurs in all 4 gospels. In the others, though, he denies knowing Jesus. Here, he denies his own identity as a disciple, as a follower of Jesus.

We are people who often choose the easy path, even when it is a path that leads away from love.

This week, I’ve been thinking about how hard it is to choose the path of love. I read the news and I swear a lot in response to what I read, and I have not very nice thoughts in my heart about the people leading our country into war, cruelty, and chaos. And we don’t have to love their actions. And we don’t have to give them a pass just because we are people who want to follow Jesus’ call to be loving people. It is an act of love to demand our government uphold the Constitution.

I confess some days the best I can do is recognize my penchant for hatred and confess to Jesus that I know it’s there and I’m doing the best I can.

And then after I confess that, I try to return to love. And love is, actually, all around us.

I see love in the care you offer each other here, with support after diagnosis, or meals after a baby is born, feeding people through the food pantry, winter shelter, or Martin de Porres, or cookies at coffee hour; or standing with people before they go into immigration hearings.

I see love in between the lines of the terrible news stories too. When people wait outside in the cold, outside detention facilities to give blankets to people released from wrongful detention with only the pajamas they were wearing when arrested from their beds, volunteers giving them cell phones to call loved ones to tell them they need a ride.

I see love when people care for their neighbors by advocating for policies that extend well being out into the community—speaking out for access to affordable housing, access to health care, access to the legal rights and constitutional protections in an immigration system that both protects us from harm and protects immigrants from abuse.

I see love when scout leaders, school principals, restaurant owners, and construction supervisors do what they can in their own quiet ways to protect their students and employees.

Whenever we refuse to abandon Jesus’ call to have love for one another, despite our fear, we show the world we are his disciples.

We are all sheep in the same flock, even if people may want to convince us that we are not, that some sheep don’t belong in our sheepfold. Jesus is the shepherd who calls us in to the sheepfold, who reminds us there are other sheep who also are worthy of his provision and care.

In this story, Peter and the other disciple found themselves in a courtyard (sheepfold), with the choice to go through the gate to where the Shepherd faced questions. Or to stay by the fire. And also face questions. The risk is real in both places. Questions will be asked in both places. Our response to the risk is always ours to make, each day, a new choice, a new question asked of us. Can we answer with love?

To be clear, Peter isn’t any worse than any other sheep in God’s flock. Here, at least, he’s also not better than any other sheep in the flock. We are people, like Peter, who deny.

We deny our connectedness.

We divide into “us and them”.

We seek easy answers to complicated questions.

We are people who choose the comfort of anonymity by the fire, rather than speaking truth that will have consequence.

Our denials often go unnoticed, by us at least. Peter is aware of his denial when he hears the rooster crowing in the morning, and remembers what Jesus said to him at the end of chapter 13.

Peter said to him, Lord, why can I not follow you now? I will lay down my life for you.’ Jesus answered, Will you lay down your life for me? Very truly, I tell you, before the cock crows, you will have denied me three times.

This isn’t the final act for Peter. Our denials are not our final acts either.

Remember this story of denial after Easter, when Jesus will see Peter again and ask him three times if he loves him. All three times, Peter will say “Lord, you know I love you”. And each answer of “I love you” is an “I am” that will help Peter walk away from his answers of “I am not” . And he will go on to be the boldest of the disciples, and the rock on whom the church will be built, as he follows Jesus commands to “feed my sheep”.

This week, in the news and in our own lives, look for those moments where we say, “I am” and then go through the gate that leads to life and hope. Look too, for the moments where we say, “I am not” and stay by the comfortable fires of our fears. Whatever answer we have chosen in the past, we can always choose a new answer today.

Thanks be to God.

Amen.

2025 Annual Report

Tue, 03 Mar 2026 17:34:35 GMT

Sermon 03.01.2026: Bread, Bath & Beyond

Sun, 01 Mar 2026 20:29:08 GMT

On the night we expect bread and cup, John’s gospel gives us a towel and a basin. Jesus kneels, turning ritual into relationship and power into vulnerable love. Communion is not words at a table, but embodied connection that changes and binds us together—when we dare to be present.

Scripture

John 13:1-17

Now before the festival of the Passover, Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end. The devil had already put it into the heart of Judas son of Simon Iscariot to betray him. And during supper Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going to God, got up from the table, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him. He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, ‘Lord, are you going to wash my feet?’ Jesus answered, ‘You do not know now what I am doing, but later you will understand.’ Peter said to him, ‘You will never wash my feet.’ Jesus answered, ‘Unless I wash you, you have no share with me.’ Simon Peter said to him, ‘Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!’ Jesus said to him, ‘One who has bathed does not need to wash, except for the feet, but is entirely clean. And you are clean, though not all of you.’ For he knew who was to betray him; for this reason he said, ‘Not all of you are clean.’

After he had washed their feet, had put on his robe, and had returned to the table, he said to them, ‘Do you know what I have done to you? You call me Teacher and Lord—and you are right, for that is what I am. So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you. Very truly, I tell you, servants are not greater than their master, nor are messengers greater than the one who sent them. If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them.

Sermon

I. BREAD

Body. On the eve of his death, when everything was about to fall apart, Jesus called his friends together, and did something totally unexpected. That’s so like him. I love about him. Now, John says that Jesus knew exactly what is coming. He knew his hour has arrived. He knew his betrayer was there in the Upper Room. Tradition teaches us to expect bread broken and cup shared. But instead, John gives us Rabbi Jesus, disrobing, stooping to the floor to serve his students. He doesn’t say, “This is my body. He doesn’t say, “Do this in remembrance of me.” Instead, he kneels by a basin, towel tied at the waist.

Communion is about more than the words of institution and symbols of bread and cup. Jesus show us today, communion is about how human bodies are instruments of blessing. Scholars have long noticed that John 13 replaces the institution of the Lord’s Supper with foot washing . Not because John rejects the sacrament—but because he wants us to teach us what communion means. Communion is never private. Likewise, foot washing cannot be rehearsed in theory. It requires close physical proximity. Consent. Vulnerability. Awkwardness. Jesus chooses this knowing his betrayers are in the room.

The followers of Jesus have never been completely unified. The church is a fragile flesh-and-blood system, the Body of Christ. From our inception we are a people stressed out and divided. Sound familiar?

In the first-century world, servants washed feet. Hosts provided water. Teachers did not kneel before students. Leaders did not get their hands dirty — which might also sound familiar. Peter knows this. His objection is not theological—it’s visceral. “Lord, are you gonna wash my feet?” And then the line that should stop us cold: “You will never wash my feet.” Peter is not just stubborn. It’s worse. He’s human. Like us. He can’t just receive something that might make him feel obligated, or awkward. He’s a self-sufficient man! Were he to accept, he might go soft, feel like burden.

II. BATH

Process Theology. Jesus doesn’t force Peter. He stays in the relationship. “You don’t know now what I’m up to,” he says,“ but later on you will understand.” God does not pressure. God lures us into the moment still unfolding. God does not coerce. God invites. God welcomes. The art of discipleship is all about improvisation. Holy jazz. Which is why Jesus tossed out the line: “Unless I wash you, you have no share with me.” You won’t be part of my ministry until you let me serve you—bathe away the residue of this world and its culture. Love, as George Herbert [7] just reminded us through the choir, does not overpower. Love pulls out a chair and says: sit, eat. St. Francis prayed [8] it is in giving that we receive. But John 13 says something deeper: sometimes it is in receiving that we give ourselves over to God.

Shared Identity. Shared acts of service—spiritual practices like praying together in silence, more practical ministries like cleaning your room, greeting someone as they enter the room, serving a meal at the Interfaith Winter Shelter— build a trust words alone cannot. They form us into something bigger than rugged individuality. The call on the African wisdom of Ubuntu: I am because we are. [9] The echo the old hymn: Blest be the tie that binds our hearts in Christian love. The fellowship of kindred minds is like to that above. [10] John must’ve understood shared identity long before neuroscience named it. He gives us service as sacrament, a way to bypass the head and be known in our bodies—even in our feet—opening our hearts from head to toe.

III. BEYOND

Christ’s Example. Then the part we usually rush past: “I have set you an example.” Not a commandment but a pattern. Do what I do. Do what I do when your world is unraveling and love is shapeless. Do what I do before beginning the next thing, before choosing, before quitting, before repeating the past You are blessed, Jesus says, not when you agree —but when you do what I do.

Reality Check Lest we think the Upper Room was long ago and far away, Jesus asks to kneel in the world we inhabit. The mess that is 2026, where yesterday, without Congress, without a declaration, without a single coherent sentence to justify it, we helped to bomb Iran on behalf of another nation. The supreme leader was assassinated, along with over fifty little schoolchildren, collateral damage—because when empire runs out of words, it reaches for weapons.

Good News. Here is the Good News. Jesus did not come to save a calm and orderly world. Even the Upper Room occurs in secret, with centurions roaming the streets, throwing citizens into their vans, and all while internal sabotage is underway. Jesus knows that he will be convicted of sedition.And that's when he kneels to serve. That's when he refuses to let relationships collapse.

John 13 is the perfect Lenten scripture. Why? It demands us that we change our posture. That’s repentance. It demands that consent to receive God’s blessing, even if we feel silly. ’Unless I bathe your feet, you have to part with me” silly.

Story: My First Communion. There was a time when I understood communion intellectually. And then there was the time when I learned it in my soul and my body. I had served a church for a couple of years as their director of music. It was not the right congregation for me. I was not the right servant for them. So much so, that when some young parents in the church heard I was gay, they acted surprised—aghast.

It’s not like I hide it, right? My honesty over my sexual orientation has kept me from ordination in the old Presbyterian Church and resulted in all kinds of complicated problems and insults and hurts. (Praise God for progress.) What were those parents thinking anyway? I was a 30-something-year-old single male church organist. And really cute—back then.

So they said that I must be dangerous and pressured the pastor to take the children’s choir away from me. And he did. I cannot tell you the pain I felt. Humiliation. Rage. Shame. I had no part in this decision, no opportunity to face my accusers. Back then, the church’s gay servants were on the menu.

Not because they thought we were bad people. But because that’s how institutions often organize. Against difference, against weaker members of the body. It works every time. Scripture says to hate what is evil. It doesn’t say to hate who is evil. That’s God’s job, the judging.

Then, God dared me to grow. Lured me to a church that was formed and led by queer people, not just any queer people, San Francisco queer people! And on a Sunday night, during an evangelical-flavored service on Eureka Street, I crawled up into the balcony, worshiped God with an undefended heart, and cried my eyes out.

They called us down for communion, and since I was a stranger, an unknown—I felt welcomed. I approached the server. She fed me the bread. Then, she put her hands on me. My little Presbyterian soul thought ‘what is this fresh hell'? Don't touch me! Sensing my unease, she whispered in my ear, 'I'm going to pray for you. Okay?' I nodded my consent, although I was just being polite. And she asked my name and blessed me. Victor, my brother. You are a blessing. God loves you unconditionally. Remember the part when the Grinch's heart grows three sizes? Yes, I received what the Spirit was saying through her. I would eventually pastor that congregation.

Celebration. John tells us: do not reenact a scene from long ago. Claim the communion power in this moment. It may happen quietly, awkwardly, tearfully. Receive it. Consent to it. The bread of heaven. The bath of transformation. And something beyond all that that only happens between bodies when our armor falls away. Wherever Love kneels and takes the towel, there is God. The question now is not whether we understand this—but whether we will stop pulling our feet away.

Affirmation of Faith. [11]

Nothing that is worth doing can be achieved in our lifetime; therefore we must be saved by hope. Nothing which is true or beautiful or good makes complete sense in any immediate context of history; therefore we must be saved by faith. Nothing we do, however virtuous, can be accomplished alone; therefore we are saved by love. No virtuous act is quite as virtuous from the standpoint of our friend or foe as it is from our standpoint. Therefore we must be saved by the final form of love, which is forgiveness.

Amen.

7 Love Bade Me Welcome < https://englishverse.com/poems/love>

8 < https://www.cathedralstm.org/about-our-catholic-faith/expressing-our-faith/treasury-catholic-prayers/prayer-st-francis-assisi-prayerpeace/>

9 < https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ubuntu_philosophy>

10 < https://youtu.be/unoNFZm9jqs?si=ktwOOCu5a5pWLey3 >

11 from Reinhold Niebuhr’s The Irony of American History, University of Chicago Press, 1952

Sermon 02.22.2026: Living, Dying, Rising

Sun, 22 Feb 2026 01:56:06 GMT

In John's Gospel, the signs Jesus performs are supposed to point people to see who Jesus is, to connect them to God. But in the sign of the blind man receiving his sight, it doesn't seem to work. When Jesus' signs don't match what we know to be true in the world, do we dismiss them, explain them away?

Scripture

John 11:1-44

Now a certain man was ill, Lazarus of Bethany, the village of Mary and her sister Martha. Mary was the one who anointed the Lord with perfume and wiped his feet with her hair; her brother Lazarus was ill. So the sisters sent a message to Jesus, ‘Lord, he whom you love is ill.’ But when Jesus heard it, he said, ‘This illness does not lead to death; rather it is for God’s glory, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it.’ Accordingly, though Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus, after having heard that Lazarus was ill, he stayed two days longer in the place where he was.

Then after this he said to the disciples, ‘Let us go to Judea again.’ The disciples said to him, ‘Rabbi, the Jews were just now trying to stone you, and are you going there again?’ Jesus answered, ‘Are there not twelve hours of daylight? Those who walk during the day do not stumble, because they see the light of this world. But those who walk at night stumble, because the light is not in them.’ After saying this, he told them, ‘Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep, but I am going there to awaken him.’ The disciples said to him, ‘Lord, if he has fallen asleep, he will be all right.’ Jesus, however, had been speaking about his death, but they thought that he was referring merely to sleep. Then Jesus told them plainly, ‘Lazarus is dead. For your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe. But let us go to him.’ Thomas, who was called the Twin, said to his fellow-disciples, ‘Let us also go, that we may die with him.’

When Jesus arrived, he found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb for four days. Now Bethany was near Jerusalem, some two miles away, and many of the Jews had come to Martha and Mary to console them about their brother. When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went and met him, while Mary stayed at home. Martha said to Jesus, ‘Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask of him.’ Jesus said to her, ‘Your brother will rise again.’ Martha said to him, ‘I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day.’ Jesus said to her, ‘I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?’ She said to him, ‘Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world.’

When she had said this, she went back and called her sister Mary, and told her privately, ‘The Teacher is here and is calling for you.’ And when she heard it, she got up quickly and went to him. Now Jesus had not yet come to the village, but was still at the place where Martha had met him. The Jews who were with her in the house, consoling her, saw Mary get up quickly and go out. They followed her because they thought that she was going to the tomb to weep there. When Mary came where Jesus was and saw him, she knelt at his feet and said to him, ‘Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.’ When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her also weeping, he was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved. He said, ‘Where have you laid him?’ They said to him, ‘Lord, come and see.’ Jesus began to weep. So the Jews said, ‘See how he loved him!’ But some of them said, ‘Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?’

Then Jesus, again greatly disturbed, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone was lying against it. Jesus said, ‘Take away the stone.’ Martha, the sister of the dead man, said to him, ‘Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead for four days.’ Jesus said to her, ‘Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?’ So they took away the stone. And Jesus looked upwards and said, ‘Father, I thank you for having heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I have said this for the sake of the crowd standing here, so that they may believe that you sent me.’ When he had said this, he cried with a loud voice, ‘Lazarus, come out!’ The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, ‘Unbind him, and let him go.’

Sermon

Jesus' friend, whom he loved, Lazarus, was dead. He was buried. He was in the tomb 4 days, and every good Jew knew that the soul never stayed with the body after 3 days. So, he was dead, dead, dead.

And Jesus arrives on the scene.

Martha rushes to him and said to Jesus, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask of him.”

She acknowledges that she can’t see any life in this situation, but she also seems to acknowledge a willingness to rely on God’s imagination instead of her own. Even now, I know that God will give you whatever you ask of him.” Their conversation continues, and it is clear that Martha can imagine some of the good news—resurrection of the dead and eternal life. That good news is not for NOW. That good news is for the future.

“I know he will rise again on the last day,” she tells Jesus.

Mary also comes to Jesus, and she makes the same statement of faith. She too, believes in Jesus’ eventual power of death, of good news for some point in the future. Jesus has different words for her.

And it is clear, when they get to the tomb and Jesus tells them to roll away the stone, Mary and Martha aren’t ready for resurrection and new life quite yet. Eminently practical Martha, with no need of imagination says, "Lord, minor detail here, if I may. But already there is a stench because he has been dead four days.”

“Yes, Martha. Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?”

And so, they roll away the stone, choosing to disregard everything they knew to be true about the way the world works, choosing to trust that God could see life where they only could see death. It must have seemed more like a zombie apocalypse than a moment of good news, though, waiting to see what Jesus was going to do with an open tomb.

“Lazarus! Come out!”

And Lazarus hears the voice of the shepherd and gets up from his tomb and walks out into the light, still wrapped in his grave clothes. While this is a story about Mary and Martha and Lazarus, it has some other important actors in it too. Mary and Martha are not alone in their grief. The community has gathered with them. And when Mary goes to see Jesus, the women go with her. Everyone’s grief is different, and personal. But it isn’t really private. These women don’t say anything, and they don’t offer platitudes. They stand with their friend who is in pain, so she’s not alone. And they cry with her as she and Jesus cry.

And there are people at the tomb.

Jesus commands the crowd to “Unbind him”!

Jesus is the one who calls Lazarus to life. But the crowd has work to do.

“Unbind him.”

I don’t know how comfortable you would be with this task, but no law-abiding Jew would touch a dead body casually. And I suspect they were all trying to figure out how the law applied to formerly dead bodies.

But again, like Mary and Martha, they trust in the voice of their shepherd.

And they unbind Lazarus, freeing him of the trappings of death.

This story has reminded me why we gather as the church.

We could be doing lots of other things today. Why do we take time out of our routines to gather together with other people to worship, to gather as church? I could talk for hours about the reasons we worship. But I want us to think about why we gather together in community.

Because community is messy and complicated. And as often as we love each other, or almost as often as we love each other, we hurt each other. We support each other in life, in death, and also when new life happens.

I was with some new members last night and they were talking about this aspect of community. Today it feels like we’re all so separated in our lives that it can be difficult to reach into someone else’s life to offer help, it can be a struggle to know our neighbors. I just moved to a new condo, and I try to say hello to everyone in the hallway, but only a few people have said more than “hello” back. A few have stopped and introduced themselves and asked, “Did you just move into the building? Welcome!” I want to know my neighbors. I also don’t want to freak them out by knocking on their door to introduce myself.

But we need people to stand with us, yes in our grief as Mary and Martha’s friends did, but also when we need to borrow a cup of sugar or need a meal after we’ve had surgery. We need community that is willing to ask, “Do you need help?” when we see a person struggling with too many bags.

One of the reminders of the Lazarus story is that while yes, there is eternal life and resurrection at some point in the future, we are reminded to proclaim that there is also NEW LIFE right NOW.

Our faith compels us to unbind people and call them into life today.

To let go of their belief that death, war, cruelty, and corruption have the last word. We need to unbind people so they can work to rid their lives of addictions and despair. We need to unbind people who have been hurt by religion so they can truly know and believe that they are beloved children of God, deserving of new life today.

New life isn’t always easy.

The community is called to the somewhat indelicate task of unshrouding the formerly dead Lazarus, so that he can return to life. How well do we do with that task? It is great to talk about new life, but how do we do when formerly dead Lazarii, Lazaruses (is that the plural?) show up in our midst? How well do we obey the command to unbind them, ushering them back into life? Or do we, instead, push them back inside the tombs?

I know we’d never admit to doing that. But consider addiction. When someone climbs out of the tomb of addiction, it is often the people who love them the most who have trouble with their new life. We have learned how to deal with the death of addiction. Sometimes it is life on the other side of it that makes us the most uncomfortable.

Or maybe there are people we’d really like to see buried in tombs, if that is what it would take for them to stop harming people. Are we open to God calling them to new life?

And this new life isn’t even easy for the formerly dead Lazarus.

How do you walk back into life once you’ve comfortably settled in a tomb? What must it have been like for him, who once was certain that there was no future for him, to discover that there was, indeed, a future with hope? Would people invite formerly dead people over for dinner? How would he fit in with the community?

And his very life was testimony to the power of Jesus Christ, he was another sign pointing to Jesus, which also made Lazarus unpopular with the religious leaders. When your life is testimony to the Good News you’ve received, things can be risky.

We are now in the season of Lent, which is a time of preparation for Easter. You’d think that maybe after experiencing the resurrection of Easter for over 2,000 years now, Christians would be better prepared for it. Somehow it still seems a shock.

The rhythm of living, dying, and rising is the story of our faith, and the rhythm of our lives. We worship a man who rose from the dead. After he had lived. And after he died.

If we pretend death isn’t necessary, and try to skip from living to rising, we deny the cycle of life and death, and we hang on to what God calls us to let go of.

If we pretend the messiness of life in community isn’t necessary, the living, living, living together through pain and joy, we deny the promise of faith.

If we pretend resurrection isn’t possible, we deny the promise of faith and will be unable to see miracles in our midst.

As I mentioned during the introduction at the start of worship, our work as a congregation, and our work as Christians in the world is to be asking the questions: What is living? What is dying? What is rising?

It may be easier for us to see what is living. We can feel where the energy is here at church.

But what do we need to let die? What do we need to go ahead and put in a tomb, with faith that God will make new life emerge in ways we cannot imagine? Because for us to be able to do well what God is calling us to do, we can’t also just keep doing all the things we have always done.

This is the messy and difficult part of being church. And your church leaders are in the middle of asking these questions of our programs and ministries. And it is hard. Because we love all the things we do. But the truth is, your staff is tired. Exhausted, really. One of the ways we managed the pastoral transition before I arrived and the postcovid return was to keep trying new things to see what works. But the problem with that is we are doing too many things, and not all of them are tied to our vision. We cannot continue to manage all the programs we are currently managing. Some ministries either need to end or need to really change and be led by members of the congregation, and not by the staff. And it will be hard because we like all the programs we have.

When we invite you to join a ministry team, it is not a vague invitation. It is a specific way for you to participate in the living, dying, and rising of Calvary. What are the specific things you can do? Maybe it is to greet and welcome people when they come to worship or events. Maybe you’re a cookie baker and want to bring treats to coffee hour. Maybe you can coordinate serving teams that feed people at one of our Matthew 25 partners. Maybe you want to support children or youth ministry. One of our recent new members has volunteered to be a wedding coordinator. And now that she’s helping me with that, I realize how much of that work I was having to do. And it is a huge relief for me.

What do we need to unbind? What are the things we thought for sure we had lost forever, that God is offering back to us in new ways?

It is our work as a church to look for living, dying, and rising.

I think it is also our work in the world. Think about the stories you heard in the news this past week, of corruption, abuse, and cruelty that need to be put in a tomb because the stench of their rot is hurting all of us. Think about the people and power systems that prop up these corpses of cruelty, telling us it is what life should be.

That isn’t living, my friends. The stench of death is all around it.

And think about Lazarus again. When he died, it was correct for his loved ones to put him in a tomb. Mary and Martha were correct to bury him. Even with a belief in resurrection, they could not resurrect their brother. Only God can do that. What is living, we need to support. What is dying, we need to let die. No matter how much we love. Acknowledging death is not a failure of love, it is the courageous embodiment of it.

What in our society do we need to help live and what do we need to let die? We don’t get to choose what resurrection and rising looks like and we do not know God’s timetable for it. We only know resurrection only happens after death.

We cannot resurrect the dead, but we are the ones, once God has called people by name, who have to be ready to unbind people from the wounds of their pasts. We are the ones who have to be ready to unbind people from the sins of their past behavior. Because new life has to be for us all. Can we be a community that walks with people out of their tombs and into the new life God is, even now, preparing?

Lent prepares us, again and again, to be Easter people, those who are looking for resurrection and trust God may be imagining new life where we see only death. And when we see people who are called to new life, as Lazarus was, we are called to unbind them, bringing them into new life that they can’t even imagine, and maybe we can’t imagine, as they take those first steps out of the tomb. Martha says to Jesus: 'But even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask of him. ’May that be our prayer too. May we have hearts strong enough to break open with grief when death occurs, and imaginations strong enough to be on the lookout for the new life God is creating.

Sermon 02.15.2026: Blinded by the Light

Sun, 15 Feb 2026 07:40:05 GMT

In John's Gospel, the signs Jesus performs are supposed to point people to see who Jesus is, to connect them to God. But in the sign of the blind man receiving his sight, it doesn't seem to work. When Jesus' signs don't match what we know to be true in the world, do we dismiss them, explain them away?

Scripture

John 9:1-41

As Jesus walked along, he saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked him, ‘Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?’ Jesus answered, ‘Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him. We must work the works of him who sent me while it is day; night is coming when no one can work. As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.’

When he had said this, he spat on the ground and made mud with the saliva and spread the mud on the man’s eyes, saying to him, ‘Go, wash in the pool of Siloam’ (which means Sent). Then he went and washed and came back able to see. The neighbours and those who had seen him before as a beggar began to ask, ‘Is this not the man who used to sit and beg?’ Some were saying, ‘It is he.’ Others were saying, ‘No, but it is someone like him.’ He kept saying, ‘I am the man.’ But they kept asking him, ‘Then how were your eyes opened?’ He answered, ‘The man called Jesus made mud, spread it on my eyes, and said to me, “Go to Siloam and wash.” Then I went and washed and received my sight.’ They said to him, ‘Where is he?’ He said, ‘I do not know.’

They brought to the Pharisees the man who had formerly been blind. Now it was a sabbath day when Jesus made the mud and opened his eyes. Then the Pharisees also began to ask him how he had received his sight. He said to them, ‘He put mud on my eyes. Then I washed, and now I see.’ Some of the Pharisees said, ‘This man is not from God, for he does not observe the sabbath.’ But others said, ‘How can a man who is a sinner perform such signs?’ And they were divided. So they said again to the blind man, ‘What do you say about him? It was your eyes he opened.’ He said, ‘He is a prophet.’

The Jews did not believe that he had been blind and had received his sight until they called the parents of the man who had received his sight and asked them, ‘Is this your son, who you say was born blind? How then does he now see?’ His parents answered, ‘We know that this is our son, and that he was born blind; but we do not know how it is that now he sees, nor do we know who opened his eyes. Ask him; he is of age. He will speak for himself.’ His parents said this because they were afraid of the Jews; for the Jews had already agreed that anyone who confessed Jesus to be the Messiah would be put out of the synagogue. Therefore his parents said, ‘He is of age; ask him.’

So for the second time they called the man who had been blind, and they said to him, ‘Give glory to God! We know that this man is a sinner.’ He answered, ‘I do not know whether he is a sinner. One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.’ They said to him, ‘What did he do to you? How did he open your eyes?’ He answered them, ‘I have told you already, and you would not listen. Why do you want to hear it again? Do you also want to become his disciples?’ Then they reviled him, saying, ‘You are his disciple, but we are disciples of Moses. We know that God has spoken to Moses, but as for this man, we do not know where he comes from.’ The man answered, ‘Here is an astonishing thing! You do not know where he comes from, and yet he opened my eyes. We know that God does not listen to sinners, but he does listen to one who worships him and obeys his will. Never since the world began has it been heard that anyone opened the eyes of a person born blind. If this man were not from God, he could do nothing.’ They answered him, ‘You were born entirely in sins, and are you trying to teach us?’ And they drove him out.

Jesus heard that they had driven him out, and when he found him, he said, ‘Do you believe in the Son of Man?’ He answered, ‘And who is he, sir? Tell me, so that I may believe in him.’ Jesus said to him, ‘You have seen him, and the one speaking with you is he.’ He said, ‘Lord, I believe.’ And he worshipped him. Jesus said, ‘I came into this world for judgement so that those who do not see may see, and those who do see may become blind.’ Some of the Pharisees near him heard this and said to him, ‘Surely we are not blind, are we?’ Jesus said to them, ‘If you were blind, you would not have sin. But now that you say, “We see”, your sin remains.

Sermon

I want to begin this morning with a disclaimer . The gospel of John often uses blindness as a metaphor for people who do not understand who Jesus is. It suggests that God would cause someone to be blind to reveal God s glory. We do not believe that to be true. It is a dangerous message. My father was blind, and I am aware that using a condition that so profoundly affected his life as a metaphor for faithlessness is problematic. And yet the people with the worst vision in this story have perfectly functioning eyes. So I hope we ll recognize the vision-related language in this story, and then do our best to notice, and be more attentive to, the language we use when we tell our stories.

Even with that, I love this story. But you know how it is with stories you love? Every so often you read it again and it says something that you didn’t notice the last time, or the last 243 times, that you read it.

One thing I noticed this time around is at the beginning, when Jesus is asked the question, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?”, it is the disciples who ask the question. Doesn’t it seem like the kind of question his detractors would ask to trap him?

But it was asked by his friends.

“Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?”

We assume that the disciples weren’t trying to trap him. Which means that they are trying to understand the world they encounter.

And Jesus leaves them in their confusion. Jesus doesn’t clearly explain anything.

For him, everything in the world is a sign that points to him, helping us see and hear him more clearly. In John’s gospel, there aren’t miracles as we have in the other gospels. There are signs. And the signs aren’t big deals on their own. Jesus spat on the ground and made mud with the saliva and spread the mud on the man’s eyes? Not much of a miracle. Spit. Mud. No, this story isn’t about the sign. It is about how the sign points to Jesus. Signs are events and actions that make our vision clearer and make our hearing sharper.

Unless they don’t.

For some people in this story, the signs don’t improve their vision. This sign, of the man born blind having his sight restored, doesn’t in any way, fit with the world they know and can explain. And as such, even though they are asking questions, they seem to be standing there like this: with their hands over their ears and their eyes closed, singing, "La la la la la. Not listening!”

So, it makes me wonder if we should be careful of only asking questions that try to explain away the mysteries of faith and the mysteries of life. Some people are born blind. Some people are born with 20/20 vision. Jesus doesn’t explain it.

And the formerly blind man doesn’t either. He’s not interested in speculation. They ask him, and they ask him again, about how he was healed.

How did it happen?

Who did this?

What do you say about him?

For the formerly blind man, it is the act of testifying about his experience that brings him to sight. Yes, Jesus restored his vision, but lots of people have functioning eyes. It was his repeated testimony that seems to move him to seeing who Jesus truly is.

“Lord I believe”, he says to Jesus at the end of the story.

So, even when we really have no answers to the questions, we’re supposed to say what we know, even when, especially when, it is different from what we thought we knew.

And we need to expect the interrogation.

One of the most popular insults on the internet to clips from my sermons is “women can’t be priests” or “God doesn’t want women to preach!”

It isn’t something I can explain to them. For one, the internet is no place to have a real conversation. But even if they were right in front of me, I couldn’t convince them that our interpretation of scripture is correct and theirs is wrong. I could only tell them, “I don’t know the mind of God, but one thing I do know is this. I thought I was going to be a lawyer, or maybe a

newspaper editor, and yet I kept getting doors closed for me to those careers and getting somehow shoved into doorways that led me to a church career.”

Or “I don’t know what God is thinking, but one thing I do know is preaching is the thing that makes me feel closest to God and makes me feel most alive.”

My arguments won’t change their arguments, but maybe my testimony might meet them in a different way?

Once you’ve encountered Jesus, your life is different. The crowd doesn’t even recognize the man when he first comes back with his sight. He has to keep telling them, “I am that guy.”

So then they ask him, “Fine, if you re the blind man, how can you see now?"

“The man called Jesus made mud, spread it on my eyes, and said to me, ‘Go to Siloam and wash.’ Then I went and washed and received my sight.”

He testifies to his experience. He doesn’t say that everyone needs to have the same experience he did. He doesn’t claim that his experience is more valid than someone else’s. He just says what he knows.

They said to him, “Where is he?” He said, “I do not know.” (Duh, I was blind, remember).

I wish the crowds had asked him, “What did the mud feel like when he put it on your face? What is it like to see? Is it what you thought it would be?”

Wouldn’t that be great, if instead of trying to make sense of everyone else’s experience, we could just enjoy it with them?

But instead they take him to the Pharisees, who sadly get blinded by the technicality of the sign. Jesus made mud on the Sabbath. The mud business doesn’t seem like a big deal to us, certainly not a hanging offense, but Pharaoh had the Israelites make mud into bricks, remember. Slavery in Egypt wasn’t such a great time for them. So, there is value in their long memory. But no matter how useful and beneficial those rules had been at the beginning, once the religious leaders have quantified their faith experience into only rules and restrictions, they missed the opportunity to see God.

Our traditions are great and all. But we shouldn’t let them close our eyes to the presence of God in our midst.

Through the interrogation with the Pharisees, the formerly blind man doesn’t get sidetracked. He keeps telling them what his experience was. And, when pressed, he makes a claim about Jesus. “He is a prophet.” His awareness of Jesus seems to be getting clearer for him as it remains muddied for the religious officials.

So then they bring in his parents. Not the parents’ finest hour. “Is this your son? You say he was blind? How can he now see?”

“Umm…well, yes. He’s our son. I’m pretty sure that’s my son. We have no idea what’s going on. Why are you putting us in this uncomfortable situation? We didn’t do anything. Just ask him!”

Gee, thanks mom and dad.

But sometimes our families are the last people who can understand our experience of Jesus. Because they have raised us in their traditions and given us our rules. Why would our experience be different than theirs? But the man born blind doesn’t get derailed when his parents push him in front of the proverbial bus, handing him over to the authorities. He continues to speak of his experience and how the sign of Jesus’ healing helped him to see.

And he is quite impassioned in his own testimony, and he clearly was listening to his Sunday school teachers.

Here is an astonishing thing! You do not know where he comes from, and yet he opened my eyes. We know that God does not listen to sinners, but he does listen to one who worships him and obeys his will. Never since the world began has it been heard that anyone opened the eyes of a person born blind. If this man were not from God, he could do nothing.

And then he’s driven out of his community. The neighbors, the religious authorities, and his own parents decide that they don’t want to trust the voice of the formerly blind man. They decide that their preconceptions about God are more important than the man’s experience of being healed by Jesus.

The story ends with some positive outcomes for the formerly blind man, more or less. He’s gained his sight. And Jesus comes and finds him and gives him the opportunity to make his confession of faith. “Do you believe in the son of man?”

“Lord, I believe.”

That’s all we can do. We can’t explain away the troubles of the world. We can’t explain away the mysteries of the faith. We can’t open other people’s eyes and turn their heads, saying, “There he is. Jesus is right there. Look!”

All we can do, everything we should do, is testify to the light.

Now, I realize that in this story, testifying doesn’t seem like such a good deal. He loses many of his friends, church types, and family. He doesn’t appear to be “successful” at evangelizing because nobody “comes to Jesus”—whatever that means.

But here’s the good news. That’s not his job. Being successful at saving people isn’t what he is supposed to do. That’s what God does. He just testifies to what he’s seen. Presumably, Jesus didn’t heal the blind man because of his public speaking skills or his gifts for evangelism. Jesus healed him because he needed healing.

And so the man told his story.

“One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.”

He had to change his mind about his own experience, just as his family and friends had to reckon with.

What is something you’ve changed your mind about, something that you were raised to know for sure was right or was wrong? Something that maybe even you were told God was very clear about?

I was raised in what I would describe as an average Republican-ish household. I don’t know this for sure, because my family never talked about politics. My parents would vote, but they never told me who they were voting for. I suspect they were Eisenhower kind of Republicans because the American dream worked pretty well for them. Neither of them went to college, but my dad was able to apprentice his way into being a respiratory therapist—the first one licensed West of the Mississippi. They were able to buy a house in the right neighborhood in town and raise their kids to be American dream people too.

I was raised with a contradictory set of messages. My grandmother hated Jimmy Carter, but when he came to town, she still got dressed up and went to see him to show respect to the office of president. I was taught to honor and respect people regardless of their skin color or where they were from, and my parents had a diverse group of friends. But I also grew up hearing racist and ethnic jokes and going to a restaurant called Sambo’s. I was told that I could be anything I wanted to be when I grew up, but I discovered along the way that there were jobs that were better suited for men than for women. And my dad taught me how to change the oil in my car, but really only seemed to want to spend time with my brother re-building his Camaro.

But my family changed. My dad stopped telling racist and homophobic jokes. We couldn’t get him to stop telling Norwegian jokes, but since we were part Norwegian, that seemed like a win.

My mom called me when Washington State was voting on gay marriage and said, “I always was taught that homosexuality was wrong, but it seems to me that our society would be better off if gay couples could have the stability of marriage the way dad and I have had. Right? Doesn’t that make sense? And you think that’s okay with God?”

I will always treasure that conversation with my mother, assuring her that her argument made good sense to me and that it fit well with what she was taught about the sanctity and value of marriage too, even if she had to change her definitions a little.

We can see and understand things differently as our experience changes. Or we can choose to hold tightly to what we’re certain we know, even when it doesn’t match our experience.

And when I look around at the world, I can see a lot of people who are blinded by I don’t know what. Claiming to be worried about theoretical criminals on the street while also believing that people actually convicted of crimes belong in the White House.

What I can’t as easily discern is where my vision is cloudy, or where I’m refusing to see what is changing.

Listen to me now. Each and every one of us is wrong about something we’re certain we’re right about. We just don’t know what it is. Also, I don’t tell you that so that you can go tell everyone else what they are wrong about. Our work is to figure out our own error. What is the belief we’ve been stating as fact that we’ve gotten wrong?

In the public square, and too often in religion, our state of believing has ceased to be about common understanding and personal experience, and has become a discordant, clanging chorus where the loudest voices seem to win.

Our story of the man born blind suggests clear vision doesn’t come from allegiance to a belief system. It doesn’t come from being fixated on the HOW or WHY questions that try to quantify, explain away, or control the mystery of faith.

Clear vision arrives at the point where the man says, “I do not know.”

What if we are called to gently guide people away from the walls of their own certainty and toward the horizons of God’s mystery? Horizons are not fixed points. They change as we move. They don’t pretend to be the final answer about anything. They are just the limit of what we can see right now, from where we stand. And the horizon looks different to those standing in a different space.

The Confession of 1967 begins with this line: “The church confesses its faith when it bears a present witness to God’s grace in Jesus Christ. In every age, the church has expressed its witness in words and deeds as the need of the time required.”

We speak an affirmation of faith in worship each week. The PCUSA’s Book of Confessions contains statements we have inherited from our ancestors in faith. From early creeds, to statements from the Protestant Reformation, to more contemporary statements—when we look at these statements over time, we see both the changes and the through line of our faith.

We don’t often use the Scots Confession in worship because today we would feel very uncomfortable about its language about women, the Catholic Church, and witchcraft, to name a few. But we keep it in our collection because it shows us who the church was in the 1500s and it shows us what they were facing and what they felt it was important to speak.

We have, lately been using the Theological Declaration of Barmen in worship with some regularity. It was written in Germany in the 1930s to make a claim about what it is to be a Christian when a political party is trying to co-opt the message of faith for political gain. We keep all these statements in our Book of Confessions to remind us of previous horizons so we can appreciate today’s horizons.

Today, members of the Session, our church’s governing board, will be leading us in an Affirmation of Faith they have written for us, claiming what they see on the horizon at this moment in time. Because it is an act of faith to make a claim based on what we know right now. It is also an act of faith to know God is still working and changing things we thought we knew.

When faith, when belief, has been life giving for me, it has been when people helped me understand faith as a mysterious horizon business.

It’s a community job. It’s work we each have to do, but we can’t do it alone. It’s why we are called here, to support each other, to speak of our experience so that others might possibly just recognize where God is working in their lives too. Because we’ve all had different instructions in our faith upbringing. Some of us have been pointed to horizons all along. Others of us

have been told to entrench our positions and look no further.

Sarah Bessey is a Christian author. She had to leave her church to follow Jesus and has been working to re-construct her faith. When you see people doing that hard work, support them. It is, perhaps, easier just to walk away from faith entirely. She said that when she was in the beginning stages of her faith deconstruction, her father told her: “I’m not afraid for you. If you’re

honestly seeking God, I believe you will find what you’re looking for even if it looks different than what I have found.”

That’s faithful horizon work, friends.

So, we pray that the signs of healing and grace that we see around us in our lives won’t leave us blinded by the Light. Instead, I pray that we’ll be able to see and then share that experience with the world, trusting that it will point the way to Jesus so that his Light may shine in all of the dark corners of our world. Amen

Sermon 02.08.2026: The Gift of Desperation

Sun, 08 Feb 2026 23:57:26 GMT

Many of us feel things are falling apart-either in our personal, professional, or public life. How can suffering invite us toward deeper freedom, integrity, and trust in God? How can our helplessness transform us into the people God has created us to be?

Scripture

John 4:46-54

Then Jesus came again to Cana in Galilee where he had changed the water into wine. Now there was a royal official whose son lay ill in Capernaum. When he heard that Jesus had come from Judea to Galilee, he went and begged him to come down and heal his son, for he was at the point of death. Then Jesus said to him, ‘Unless you see signs and wonders you will not believe.’ The official said to him, ‘Sir, come down before my little boy dies.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Go; your son will live.’ The man believed the word that Jesus spoke to him and started on his way. As he was going down, his slaves met him and told him that his child was alive. So he asked them the hour when he began to recover, and they said to him, ‘Yesterday at one in the afternoon the fever left him.’ The father realized that this was the hour when Jesus had said to him, ‘Your son will live.’ So he himself believed, along with his whole household. Now this was the second sign that Jesus did after coming from Judea to Galilee.

Sermon

Please watch livestream video above. Thank you!

Sermon 02.01.2026: Shallow Wells

Sun, 01 Feb 2026 21:20:14 GMT

We live in a world full of shallow wells, creating a thirsty, isolated world. There’s a lot of anxiety in the world, in the church, because we turn to those shallow wells and are never satisfied. Jesus offers the Woman at the Well living water. What would it take for us to leave our water jars by our wells so we can have our thirst slaked and our souls renewed with living water?

Scripture

John 4:1-42

Now when Jesus learned that the Pharisees had heard, ‘Jesus is making and baptizing more disciples than John’— although it was not Jesus himself but his disciples who baptized— he left Judea and started back to Galilee. But he had to go through Samaria. So he came to a Samaritan city called Sychar, near the plot of ground that Jacob had given to his son Joseph. Jacob’s well was there, and Jesus, tired out by his journey, was sitting by the well. It was about noon.

A Samaritan woman came to draw water, and Jesus said to her, ‘Give me a drink’. (His disciples had gone to the city to buy food.) The Samaritan woman said to him, ‘How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?’ (Jews do not share things in common with Samaritans.) Jesus answered her, ‘If you knew the gift of God, and who it is that is saying to you, “Give me a drink”, you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water.’ The woman said to him, ‘Sir, you have no bucket, and the well is deep. Where do you get that living water? Are you greater than our ancestor Jacob, who gave us the well, and with his sons and his flocks drank from it?’ Jesus said to her, ‘Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty. The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.’ The woman said to him, ‘Sir, give me this water, so that I may never be thirsty or have to keep coming here to draw water.’

Jesus said to her, ‘Go, call your husband, and come back.’ The woman answered him, ‘I have no husband.’ Jesus said to her, ‘You are right in saying, “I have no husband”; for you have had five husbands, and the one you have now is not your husband. What you have said is true!’ The woman said to him, ‘Sir, I see that you are a prophet. Our ancestors worshipped on this mountain, but you say that the place where people must worship is in Jerusalem.’ Jesus said to her, ‘Woman, believe me, the hour is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem. You worship what you do not know; we worship what we know, for salvation is from the Jews. But the hour is coming, and is now here, when the true worshippers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for the Father seeks such as these to worship him. God is spirit, and those who worship him must worship in spirit and truth.’ The woman said to him, ‘I know that Messiah is coming’ (who is called Christ). ‘When he comes, he will proclaim all things to us.’ Jesus said to her, ‘I am he, the one who is speaking to you.’

Just then his disciples came. They were astonished that he was speaking with a woman, but no one said, ‘What do you want?’ or, ‘Why are you speaking with her?’ Then the woman left her water-jar and went back to the city. She said to the people, ‘Come and see a man who told me everything I have ever done! He cannot be the Messiah, can he?’ They left the city and were on their way to him.

Meanwhile the disciples were urging him, ‘Rabbi, eat something.’ But he said to them, ‘I have food to eat that you do not know about.’ So the disciples said to one another, ‘Surely no one has brought him something to eat?’ Jesus said to them, ‘My food is to do the will of him who sent me and to complete his work. Do you not say, “Four months more, then comes the harvest”? But I tell you, look around you, and see how the fields are ripe for harvesting. The reaper is already receiving wages and is gathering fruit for eternal life, so that sower and reaper may rejoice together. For here the saying holds true, “One sows and another reaps.” I sent you to reap that for which you did not labour. Others have laboured, and you have entered into their labour.’

Many Samaritans from that city believed in him because of the woman’s testimony, ‘He told me everything I have ever done.’ So when the Samaritans came to him, they asked him to stay with them; and he stayed there for two days. And many more believed because of his word. They said to the woman, ‘It is no longer because of what you said that we believe, for we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this is truly the Saviour of the world.’

Sermon

Last week, Victor preached a barnburner of a sermon on the story of when Nicodemus met Jesus. While the woman at the well is my favorite story in the bible, I also love the Nicodemus story, and I noticed some contrasts and some similarity between them.

Nicodemus is named, the woman is not.

He comes to meet Jesus in the dark, when nobody is going to notice. She meets Jesus at high noon, in the bright light of day.

Nicodemus has status and power in society as a Jewish pharisee. She has no status or power, and she’s a Samaritan, not an Israelite.

Nicodemus doesn’t really have much of an epiphany in the moment, at least not one reported by John. His story will continue later in the gospel, which is a reminder that sometimes faith is not sudden. Sometimes it takes a while. But it does not take a while for the unnamed Samaritan woman though. She rushes off and testifies about Jesus to everyone she sees.

Yet, she has been interpreted over the years in a negative light, as some sort of harlot or sinner, as if she’s Liz Taylor, or a Kardashian type person, in the tabloids leaving yet another movie star husband for another. We add that to the text. Jesus doesn’t call her a sinner or tell her to repent. He never tells her to go and sin no more. He just offers her living water.

Let’s be clear. Women in first century Palestine should not be confused with tabloid fodder. Maybe they shouldn’t be tabloid fodder today either, but that’s another sermon. Women had little power to divorce a husband in Jesus’ day, and no ability to fend off a divorce if a husband wanted one. If she’s been married 5 times, it’s more likely to reveal the vulnerability women face in the world. Maybe even reveal the sadness and grief of so much loss.

I confess to you I have always been troubled by Jesus ’question to the woman at the well—go, call your husband, and come back— It raises my hackles every time I read it. He doesn’t really think she wanted 5 husbands, did he? Surely he knows her powerlessness in this scenario and yet this is the question he asks? She’s already gathering water at the heat of the day, rather than in the cool of the morning, because she can’t bear the looks and the comments from the other women. Is more judgment what she needs right now?

She asks for living water, something which he brought up in the first place, don t forget, and then he takes a turn and brings up the husband situation.

How did the thirsty woman hear Jesus’ question, I wonder?

This passage has always felt like a personal story to me, not a corporate one. Maybe because I’m a woman who has had other people whispering behind my back about things they don’t understand, I’ve always felt a kinship with her. I own a print of the art on the cover of your bulletin, and it hangs in our bedroom.

Maybe because she seems so isolated and alone, the story has always felt like a personal story about where Jesus encounters each of us, individually, by our various wells, and not a story about how we live together as a society.

But this week, I was pretty wiped out. The news of the world is taking a toll. I know that our despair is the goal of this administration. And they might break the law with seeming impunity, but damn if I let them take my hope.

And so the work of tending my little flame of hope against the winds of cruelty has me pretty tired. Last week’s worship service was really powerful for me. The first hymn had me in tears, and I realized how alone I had been feeling in the midst of all the cruelty and chaos in the world. I was so thankful to be in community that day, your voices lifting me up as I cried through the hymn, visible reminders that I wasn’t alone.

And so, this week, as I pondered our friend at the well, I saw myself at the town well, there to gather water in the heat of the day, doing it “all by me own self”, as I would say to my parents when I was a kid. And I realized this is a story for how we live together. Why would we gather water by ourselves at shallow wells, when we could instead be supporting each other and helping each other carry the burdens?

And we can’t do it alone. Going to the well in the heat of the day instead of in the cool of the morning with others is no way to get through life.

A few weeks ago, when clergy were gathering in Minnesota, Joann and I were planning on going. And for various reasons, it didn’t work for us to be on that trip. But the stories I’ve heard from my friends who were there highlighted something for me. Yes, what is still happening in Minneapolis is terrible. What our government is doing is terrible on every observable metric. It shouldn’t be a partisan conversation to care about the Constitution, to

care about the humanity of our neighbors. We need to continue to bear witness to what is happening there, and what is happening away from public eyes in the detention centers where people are being kidnapped without cause, without warrant, without due process.

In addition to the bad news out of Minnesota, and Maine, and other places where ICE is wreaking havoc, our colleagues have shared amazingly positive stories too. The community has come together to help their neighbors, putting themselves at risk to do the right thing for strangers.

This is who we can be, who we can choose to be.

But Jesus has some questions for us.

He asks the woman about her husband. And after this week, I hear his question differently. I don’t hear it as shaming judgment. I hear it as reckoning and an invitation into deeper community and honest relationship. Because there she was, alone. Not in the community of other women. Was her isolation because of the stories they told about her or because of the stories she told in her own head? I know there have been moments in my life where I expected judgment and so I lived it out before anyone else even got involved.

Jesus cut right to the heart of the story she was telling herself and addressed the elephant in the room, or at the well. This is your story, he’s reminding her. You’ve had 5 husbands, with all the joys and sorrows that go along with them. This is your story. Claim it. Take it with you to the well with the woman and hold your head up high. It has made you who you are. Don’t forget it.

Jesus lets her know he already knew her story before he asked her for a drink, AND he chose to be there, talking to her, offering her living water, offering her grace that accepts her, loves her, values her, just as she is. He saw her, as she was. And it was enough. And true community requires honest truth.

We preach, or hear this preached, this every week, right?

God’s grace is sufficient for us.

We are God’s beloved children.

And then we somehow are still surprised to discover God knows everything we’ve ever done and is still there talking to us.

I think Jesus has some questions for us today too. Maybe not about our marital status.

How many people has ICE killed this month? I think that’s one question he would ask us. What are their names?

Thirty two people died in ICE custody in 2025. At least eight have died already this year at their hands.

Yet, I can only tell you the names of the two white people ICE killed.

There are reasons for that. We saw it on camera, for one. And the deaths in detention are intentionally hidden from us. But also, we live in a culture that has been killing black and brown bodies from the beginning of our story. Slavery, Jim Crow, the lynching trees, the redlining of real estate, the prison system, the list could go on and on.

When black and brown bodies are killed by the state, it does not shock us, even if it saddens us. We have seen it before.

We know the names of the two white people killed by our government this month because it is rare for us to see. But by standing in solidarity with their neighbors of color, they gave up the safety that comes with whiteness in this country.

Jesus wants us to see the honest truth about our lives, about our world.

Not to stop us in shame and judgment, but to call us to a well of living water, where Jesus meets us as we are and calls us to become who we can become.

Our government being racist now is not unprecedented, even as it is terrible. We have to see our past honestly so we can address the crisis of the present in a way that will change us.

John‘s gospel is all about what we see. And what we don’t see. We’ll talk more about this in a few weeks in a story about a blind man receiving sight. Jesus called the disciples at the beginning of the gospel by saying, “Come and see.” To come and see is the invitation to discipleship. To come and see is also our invitation into authentic community, where we honestly assess who we are.

At the end of the woman’s encounter with Jesus, she puts down her water jar and heads back to the city and tells everyone to come and see the man who told her everything she’d ever done. And we, as a society, need to reckon with everything we have ever done. We need to claim it and own it and then choose to create a different future for our children and grandchildren than the one we have lived, the one we have inherited.

And there are good parts to the story we have inherited too. We can’t lose sight of that. We have to claim it all.

She invites people to come see for themselves the man who told her everything she’s ever done.

If I’m a townsperson hearing that, my first thought is, “What is everything you’ve ever done. Do tell.”

If she wants to talk to people about Jesus, she’s going to have to tell her story honestly. If she says, “Trust me, it’s private, we had a moment, but it’s a good story”, everyone will walk away and leave her to her private experience.

How will they see the Good News of the Gospel and connect it to the parched and dry places of their souls if they don’t know how it has sated her soul?

She also makes her statement about Jesus being the messiah in the form of a question, which is a form of vulnerability, making a claim and acknowledging she might be wrong. We could use a world where more people acknowledged they might be wrong.

Jesus calls us to get past partial truths and to claim honestly all of who we are. God became flesh and lived among us, full of grace and truth. Do we think he doesn’t see us as we are? People, please. He sees you. And he wants you to see him as clearly.

There are plenty of other wells out there. Ultimately, those other wells won’t satisfy. The well of self-reliance, or the well of “everything is just fine, no need to bring up the past”, or the well of prosperity and success, or the well of fear and anxiety—they leave us temporarily sated but perpetually parched.

When we encounter Jesus at a well of Living Water, we bring our whole, vulnerable messy stories. If we want to go tell people about Jesus, we have to lay down the water jars we fill up at the well of safe truth.

What kind of wells do people find when they bring their empty water jars to our church?

Friends, we live in a world full of shallow wells, creating a thirsty, isolated world. There’s a lot of anxiety in the world, in the church, these days. There are a lot of people hungry for community where they can bring their whole selves. We’re here to see Jesus. We’re here to see each other as we are.

What if we allowed our brokenness to be recognized, to be seen, by the brokenness in each other?

I suspect we would find the living water Jesus offers, within our own communities, slaking our thirst and renewing our souls.

I suspect God would grace us with living water that would sustain us as we leave.

I suspect we, too, might go and tell our communities about this man who knew everything we have ever done... so they might come to meet Jesus, with their honest selves, as well.

We don’t need those water jars. Let’s leave them here.

Amen.

Sermon 01.25.2026: Normalizing the Light Nicodemus and the World We Accept

Sun, 25 Jan 2026 20:22:00 GMT

Salvation is not an exit plan! It's God’s deep commitment to redeeming what the world has learned to call normal. God does not abandon the world’s brokenness but enters it to make it whole.

Scripture

John 3:1-21

Now there was a Pharisee named Nicodemus, a leader of the Jews. 2 He came to Jesus by night and said to him, ‘Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God; for no one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God.’ 3 Jesus answered him, ‘Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above.’ 4 Nicodemus said to him, ‘How can anyone be born after having grown old? Can one enter a second time into the mother’s womb and be born?’ 5 Jesus answered, ‘Very truly, I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit. 6 What is born of the flesh is flesh, and what is born of the Spirit is spirit. 7 Do not be astonished that I said to you, “You must be born from above.” 8 The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.’ 9 Nicodemus said to him, ‘How can these things be?’ 10 Jesus answered him, ‘Are you a teacher of Israel, and yet you do not understand these things?

11 ‘Very truly, I tell you, we speak of what we know and testify to what we have seen; yet you do not receive our testimony. 12 If I have told you about earthly things and you do not believe, how can you believe if I tell you about heavenly things? 13 No one has ascended into heaven except the one who descended from heaven, the Son of Man. 14 And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, 15 that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.

16 ‘For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.

17 ‘Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him. 18 Those who believe in him are not condemned; but those who do not believe are condemned already, because they have not believed in the name of the only Son of God. 19 And this is the judgement, that the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil. 20 For all who do evil hate the light and do not come to the light, so that their deeds may not be exposed. 21 But those who do what is true come to the light, so that it may be clearly seen that their deeds have been done in God.’

Sermon

Lights Up.

In high school, I joined a big Methodist youth choir to tour the Deep South. Our productions featured lights and choreography. We wore matching light blue jumpsuits with big pointy collars. Imagine the Smurfs as guests on the Donny and Marie Show. It was the first time I sang in public. And my mama cried. Opening night. We enter the stage, the congregation cheering. We come into formation, lights full up, and in unison, we recite John 3:16, King James style:

For God so loved the world, that he gave his only-begotten son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have life… everlasting, everlasting… (fade to black)… everlasting, everlasting…

It was 1980. We had great hair. But the lights. The lights fading from full up to total darkness is the exact opposite of what John 3, today’s scripture, is all about.

Lights Down.

Nearly fifty have passed, and now I view the dimming light symbolically, prophesying what will come.

The AIDS pandemic will be next. Religious extremists will seize the opportunity to demonize (sick and dying) queer people. The white supremacy of the Ku Klux Klan will fester and morph into militias, Proud Boys, and now the president’s own paramilitary force, ICE, invading American cities under the pretense of the law. The darkness has people. The darkness has always had people. And they are committed.

_____

“The Uses of Sorrow” by Mary Oliver [1]

Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness.

It took me years to understand that this, too, was a gift.

_____

This week, a box of darkness. The president alienated our NATO allies with a screed of insults, concluding, “Sometimes you need a dictator.” [2]

Another Box.

ICE took five-year-old Liam Ramos into custody. He and his father asylum-seekers, documented and legal, but now incarcerated in a Texas “detention facility” run by a corporation that gets paid per body by the federal government—our tax dollars. The more money for the corporation, the more money to they funnel back to the politicians who stock their warehouses with predominantly Black and Brown bodies. How can this kind of darkness be a gift?

And yesterday, another box of sorrow, one that has kept me up most of the night. In Minneapolis, ICE agents murdered Alex Pretti, an 37-year-old ICU nurse from the local VA, and immediately, Kristi Noem went on camera to lie about who he was and why her government murdered him. There are multiple videos proving his innocence. They restrained him face down on the ground and emptied 10 rounds into him, and for what. Multiple videos that tell us a grim truth: our government is now executing political dissidents.

Perhaps these boxes of darkness are gifts. When we open them, examine their contents, we expose their contents to the light that makes plain what is going on. We can’t un-see video evidence. We can’t un-hear words spoken plainly. And, sadly, we can no longer believe a word our current government says.

This is the gift of darkness. Evil, when exposed by light, pushes light-loving people toward what God wants us from us. Light shows us what we must prepare for, where the light of Christ must shine. The light unites the people who will never give in to darkness.

Superhero Light.

The Gospel of John opens like a superhero origin story, strangest Christmas pageant ever. No

shepherds, no angels, no manger, no star, just Logos (Word) and Light. Pre-existent light. Light that doesn ’t just illuminate the universe but creates it.

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. …

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overtake it. [3]

More than candle-glow, this is light with power. Light that reveals what is hiding, exposes what is unraveling. [4]

Enough light to power superheroes. The light that refuses to stay safely in the realm of heaven.

Nic at Night. Only two chapters after John described Logos and Light, he introduces a very human man, Nicodemus. Not a villain. Not a monster. Nicodemus is a symbol of the world’s systems, a symbol of what the light of Christ came to heal, the system that calls itself normal.

Nicodemus approaches Jesus at night, when he feels safe from the system. He is a powerful leader, a Sanhedrin, a teacher, a person fluent in the rules. He knows how things work and what is possible. He knows which questions are allowed and which questions are dangerous. Nicodemus, in other words, symbolizes the world.

The World.

In ancient Greek, the world was called kosmos. Not the planets. Not the stars. Not creation itself,

kosmos is the world as it is organized—structured by habit and fear, hierarchy, domination, exclusion. In today’s scripture, kosmos is not dirt and trees and oceans. Kosmos is the world we have arranged to protect ourselves from the in-breaking, convicting, sin-revealing light of God. It’s what we normalize in order to thrive and survive. And Jesus does not come to destroy it. Verse 17: “God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.” This is how Jesus is not a superhero. God could have destroyed evil. Jesus engaged with the devil for 40 days and 40 nights in the wilderness! Jesus is love. God is love, without laser beams to vanquish the enemy.

But to save. The Greek word here is sōthē. Salvation. Nothing about escape. No one evacuated due to rapture. Salvation is not about going up there. Salvation in Christ is about down here. A foretaste of glory divine. sōthē. Saved. Fixed. Made whole. One more time for those in the back: Jesus does not peddle eternal fire insurance! Salvation is God’s deep commitment to reform the world we learn to call normal.

Think of all we have been called on to normalize over the past 12 months. All that we have been told is legal; so therefore, says J.D. Vance, just cooperate. [5] Cooperate? With this? Cooperate, or what? (Take a deep breath.)

Let’s come with Nicodemus, and ask Jesus what do we do.

Step one, says Jesus: “You must be born from above, born again.”

Here, the Greek is slippery, and Nicodemus does what systems always do when confronted with mystery and Spirit. He literalizes it. He asks irritating, procedural questions, “How can this be? Born again? Am I to go back into the womb? Just how do you do that?”

And Jesus does not scold him but invites him into the wind, the ruach, the work of the Sprit that orders chaos since the beginning. It blows where it wills. You can’t control it. You can’t predict it. You can’t quantify it. Mystery is the Holy Spirit’s superpower. Jesus is offering Nicodemus more than a spiritual reset button; he’s naming a reordering that the system itself cannot generate.

Creative Advance.

Process theologian Alfred North Whitehead (1861-1947) once described reality itself as

creative advance [6] —the universe always becoming more than it used to be, drawn forward by possibility. Creative advance is not dragged forward by force, neither does advance fly in wearing a cape. In this vision, God does not coerce the world into goodness. God lures it. God offers each moment a next best possibility. Jesus is that lure, embodied. Jesus is the light sent to save a system that has no interest in loving the way God loves. Which means that sin is not primarily individual wrongdoing. Sin is where the system fails, gets distorted into something deadly. Sin is what happens when the system organizes itself against love.

As theologian Marjorie Suchocki teaches, sin is not only personal but embedded in social systems and inherited patterns—the systems that shape our lives before we choose—systems that outlive their purpose, and harm people long after their engineers are gone. [7] Sound familiar? Normalized immorality. Normalized xenophobia. Will we normalize state terror?

We belong to a system that cannot imagine loving the whole world. Like Nicodemus’ system, we sort people into clean and unclean, legal and illegal, worthy and disposable. But Jesus stands inside that system—in love—and his light cracks it open.

This is how John 3:16 is not sentimental greeting card. “For God so loved the world…that whosoever believes” Not the obedient sycophants. Not the mighty. Not the righteous remnant clinging to their pearls. But the world. The system. The whole stinking mess. John 3:16 isn’t about being rescued from world; it’s about God refusing to give up on it.

We live inside systems that choke life and call it necessary. We are normalizing cruelty. We have normalizing lies. We are normalizing home invasions. We are normalizing fear as policy, death as collateral damage, and chaos as diplomacy. This is not partisan language. It is diagnostic gospel language. When systems choke life and call it order, the light names it for what it is. The Gospel does not ask us what is legal. The Gospel does not care if it wanders into politics. The Gospel is about right and wrong.

God With Us.

Whitehead wrote that God is “the great companion—the fellow sufferer who understands.”8 God is

not aloof from human suffering. God absorbs and remembers it, refuses to let suffering become meaningless. And then God gives back to the world a clearer vision of what could be. It happened with Nicodemus. It can happen with us, within us, and in this world.

And here is the quiet miracle of this text: Nicodemus’ heart cracks open. For a while, he fades into the

background—but he becomes more than he first appeared to be. Later, he demands a fair hearing for Jesus before the council. [9] Later still, Nicodemus comes to the cross, carrying spices, to tend Jesus’ body after his public execution. [10] So many parallels with today.

Reflect the Shine.

Unitarian Universalist pastor and author Robert Fulghum tells a story [11] about, when the Q and A

time comes, he always asks public speakers the same question: “What is the meaning of life?” And finally, someone answered. Greek politician-philosopher Alexander Papaderos answered:

"When I was a child we were very poor. One day on the road I found the broken piece of a mirror. I tried to find all the pieces and put them together, but it was impossible, so I kept the largest piece. I began to play with it as a toy and became fascinated that I could reflect light into dark places. It became a game for me to get into the most inaccessible places I could find… As I became a man, I grew to understand that this was.. a metaphor for what I might do with my life. …I am not the light or the source of the light. But light—truth, understanding, knowledge – will only shine in many dark places if I reflect it. I am a fragment of a mirror whose whole design and shape I do not know. …This is the meaning of life.”

Praise God. What a comfort. We are not the light or its source. But we are sent to reflect the light. We are fragments—shattered by grief, limited by fear, shaped by history—fragments that God needs to save the world. Praise God for every voice that says, “This is not normal.” Praise God for every act of courage that shines truth into the shadows. The light is infinite. Dictators, meh, they come and go. Through the Word, the light prevails.

[1] Mary Oliver, Thirst (Boston: Beacon Press, 2006), 52. Mary Oliver says that she dreamed this poem.

[2] < https://www.snopes.com/fact-check/trump-sometimes-you-need-a-dictator/>

[3] John 1.

[4] David Brooks, “The Next Trump Crackup” New York Times, January 23, 2026, GIFT ARTICLE:

<https://www.nytimes.com/2026/01/23/opinion/trump-authoritarianpower.

html?unlocked_article_code=1.G1A.lAma._Te3V_mNJ10Q&smid=url-share>

[5] https://www.nytimes.com/2026/01/22/us/minneapolis-ice-crackdown.html

[6] https://encyclopedia.whiteheadresearch.org/entries/thematic/metaphysics/the-mystery-of-creativity/

[7] Marjorie Hewitt Suchocki, God, Christ, Church (New York: Crossroad, 1982); and The Fall to Violence (Minneapolis: Fortress

Press, 2015). Suchocki argues that sin is relational and systemic, embedded in social structures that shape consciousness and

behavior prior to individual moral choice.

[8] Alfred North Whitehead, Process and Reality Corrected Edition, eds. David Ray Griffin & Donald W. Sherburne (New York: The

Free Press, 1978), 351.

[9] John 7:50–52.

[10] John 19:39–42.

[11] Robert Fulghum, It Was On Fire When I Lay Down On It, 1989, quoted online at <

http://www.garywolff.com/subdir/life_meaning.htm>.

Sermon 01.18.2026: How to be Angry Like Jesus

Sun, 18 Jan 2026 05:32:55 GMT

What makes Jesus angry? Injustice, exploitation, and religious complicity with corruption and power, among other things. Tom Morello said in the 80s, "If you aren't angry, you aren't paying attention." Perhaps it is time to join Jesus in overturning some tables.

Scripture

John 2:13-25

The Passover of the Jews was near, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem. In the temple he found people selling cattle, sheep, and doves, and the money-changers seated at their tables. Making a whip of cords, he drove all of them out of the temple, both the sheep and the cattle. He also poured out the coins of the money-changers and overturned their tables. He told those who were selling the doves, ‘Take these things out of here! Stop making my Father’s house a market-place!’ His disciples remembered that it was written, ‘Zeal for your house will consume me.’ The Jews then said to him, ‘What sign can you show us for doing this?’ Jesus answered them, ‘Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.’ The Jews then said, ‘This temple has been under construction for forty-six years, and will you raise it up in three days?’ But he was speaking of the temple of his body. After he was raised from the dead, his disciples remembered that he had said this; and they believed the scripture and the word that Jesus had spoken.

When he was in Jerusalem during the Passover festival, many believed in his name because they saw the signs that he was doing. But Jesus on his part would not entrust himself to them, because he knew all people and needed no one to testify about anyone; for he himself knew what was in everyone.

Sermon

The first time I yelled at someone in public, I was defending immigrants—my parents, actually. I was about ten years old and at the dry cleaners where my parents worked, as I often was on weekends.

At some point during the day, a customer came in and got really upset about something. Maybe their clothes weren’t ready on time or maybe a stain didn’t come out the way they’d hope. I can’t quite remember the exact dispute. And customers got upset about things like that all the time.

But this time was different, because I remember tone and tenor of the customer’s voice as they began to berate my parents. It went beyond the frustration of inconvenience. She was derisive and dehumanizing as she yelled and cursed at my parents.

I could not, for the life of me, figure out why this person thought her clothes were more important than the dignity of another human being. And so I lost it. If I could’ve turned over the tables, I would’ve, but the tables were nailed to the floor.

Instead, I yelled back at this customer, using some choice words that I had just heard her call my own parents. My anger and my yelling shocked the customer into leaving in a huff.

My parents, too, were shocked and a little concerned. I was not a loud kid growing up. I rarely got into trouble and never got into fights. But here I was, their bookish, shy child, yelling at a grown adult, and a customer no less. I can only imagine what they were thinking at that moment, but for me, it was a watershed moment, one of those core memories that stay with you and shape who you become. Because I made the choice, then and there, that I would not let people treat me or my parents like that, that I would not let them yell at us or act like they were better than us. And I learned that, for better or for worse, I simply am incapable of silence when I feel a sense of injustice rising up inside me.

And so, you can imagine the kind of yelling I want to do today as we witness immigrants and citizens alike being harassed and harmed and even shot and killed by those who think they’re better than us.

Most of you know that I lived in the Twin Cities, St Paul to be exact, right across the Mississippi River from Minneapolis. It was a short stint of four years, but an amazing opportunity and time in ministry.

I am horrified and so angry by what is happening there. But my goodness – the communities and people of faith, many of whom are colleagues I’ve known, are stepping up, speaking out, leading with immense courage and compassion. And I am so grateful for their tireless work even in the midst of their fear.

And, if I’m honest, I’m also a little relieved that so many in the city and state are willing to forego their “Minnesota Nice” because that just won’t cut it when it comes to ICE.

The angst and anger that so many of us now feel, and that once used to be considered so impolite and

unnecessary, are giving birth to movements for justice.

You see, anger is often given such a bad rap, isn’t it? It’s feels out of line, and it makes people uncomfortable. Sometimes it gets loud and emotional, and Presbyterians often pride ourselves on being a brainy, erudite bunch, not so much the emotional or passionate type.

In fact, there are even some who would argue that being angry in and of itself is sinful.

Now, while I agree that when we’re angry, there can be a greater temptation to be cruel or to become bitter, Ephesians 4:26 (NRSV) says, "Be angry, but do not sin,” which implies that being angry in and of itself is not the sin but what we do with that anger that can become sin.

Most of us have been told, by our adults or by society, to tamp down our anger, to ignore it and pretend that it doesn’t exist. My parents, actually, after the incident at the store, tried to shield me from getting angry again, by telling me to work in the back of the cleaners rather than up front where I could hear or argue with the customers. They’ve always been a little uncomfortable with all the feelings their child seemed to have.

And I imagine several of you got a similar message: Don’t get mad. And if you do, don’t show it. Right?

But, friends, now is not the time to placate our anger. Now is the time to be angry like Jesus.

And Kristin Fontaine outlines what that means. She writes: “Anger should always flow upward. If I’m going to use my anger as fuel to confront a person or an institution, they should be more powerful than me or the group I am trying to get justice for…

Jesus directed his anger at those who monetized worship and who were profiting, in particular, off of the poor and disadvantaged. He then directs his service and compassion to those who … come to him for help.

Jesus does not spread his anger about or explode in rage at the person nearest to him. He channels his rage at a specific target, and to effect a specific result…”

She continues: “Anger, when used as a motivating force to act for justice is not bad. Anger is a sign. Anger can be prophetic. Anger, when used as a tool, can be a powerful force for positive

change.”

Friends, anger itself is not the sin.

Injustice is sin. Failing to welcome the stranger and the immigrant is sin. Murder and kidnapping are sin.

Our anger and outrage that the federal government is doing all these things with seeming impunity, is not sin. It is a natural and compassionate response to the heartbreaking state of this world.

Professor Steve Thomasin at Luther Seminary, located in Minnesota, writes that, “Anger is, what psychologists call, a secondary emotion. It is like physical pain. Pain is a good thing because it alerts us to the fact that there is an injury or that something is not right in our body. Anger is like that.

When we become angry it is a sign that something has been violated. …

Getting angry isn’t bad. It’s what you do with anger that makes it wrong.” [1]

So, feel your feelings. Be angry if you need to. But if you’re angry, be angry like Jesus.

And here’s how Jesus got angry: First, Jesus’s anger, to use Fontaine’s words, flowed upward. He channeled his anger at people and institutions with power. He doesn’t get mad at Zacchaeus who has probably cheated people out of their money; nor does he get mad at the Samaritan woman whom he meets at the well. He has great compassion for those individuals, even though they were known as sinners.

Instead, he gets angry with the temple authorities and religious leaders who were making a mockery of sacred space and defrauding faithful pilgrims seeking to make a sacrifice.

So, channel your anger upwards.

Second, Jesus was often angry on behalf of those who were the most poor and disadvantaged in his society. He didn’t blame the widow for mooching off the system. He didn’t scapegoat the foreigners for making Israel unsafe.

He understood that they were often on the margins and getting exploited. So he got angry on their behalf.

Rarely did he get angry for himself. If he ever got yelled at by an individual, he wasn’t going to yell profanities or give them the finger. His anger wasn’t about slights to him because his ego didn’t depend on what people thought of him. He was God’s beloved child, and he could rest in that truth.

So when we get angry, we should check ourselves, remind ourselves that we, too, are God’s beloved children, and to consider on whose behalf we are getting angry.

For Jesus, it was always for those on the margins and the most vulnerable.

So can we say the same?

And finally, Jesus’s anger is always accompanied by courage, compassion, and action. Following this angry episode at the temple, he is able to speak truth to a pharisee named Nicodemus and extend radical welcome to a Samaritan woman. What is inspired by his anger is a deep and abiding love.

Most of us can’t quote John chapter 2 where today’s scripture is from. But I bet many of you do know John 3:16 which Jesus says just sixteen verses after the cleansing of the temple: “For God so loved the world …” right?

So when Jesus gets angry, it is accompanied by compassion for those being harmed, and love, even for those whom we consider our enemies.

Without compassion, courage, love, and action our anger is just our own, eating us alive with bitterness and hate. But with compassion, courage, and love, our anger can be a force for good in the world.

Nikita Gill writes poetry for our time. And she says:

The rage you are feeling

comes from the same place

inside your heart as the love.

This is why you refuse to accept

a world where cruelty reigns

and the fire consumes all.

You have known hope

and joy and kindness

like you have known water.

And justice is a river

that demands

you do not give up on it.

People of faith who follow Jesus and seek justice cannot help but feel anger in these days of brutality, lies, and authoritarianism.

It’s certainly not new to the history of these United States. Afterall, we celebrate the life and legacy of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. this weekend. And he used his anger at the injustice of segregation to create change and action.

His daughter Bernice once shared that: “As he (Dr. King) grew older, and went to college and theological school, he [Martin Luther King, Jr.] realized that non-violent resistance offered a way to channel anger into positive forms of protest.”

In an NPR article titled “The Power of Martin Luther King Jr’s Anger,” she is quoted as saying: “If you internalize anger, and you don't find a channel, it can destroy you … "That's why when Daddy reiterated, 'Hate is too great a burden to bear,' he knew it was corrosive and erosive." [2]

So rather than let our anger become a burden that corrodes and erodes our joy, gratitude, and lives. Let us follow the example of Dr. King, using it to nonviolently speak out and protest against the wrongs of this world. Because your anger matters. It is a sign that something is wrong. And if we pay attention and let Jesus guide the way our anger is used, then justice and change are possible in this world.

Dr. King, through protests, boycotts, marches, and letters, expressed his anger.

And Jesus, through marches, resistance - like breaking the laws of healing on the sabbath - expressed his anger.

He even overturned tables and cracked a whip, wreaking holy havoc to express his anger.

So let us be angry like Jesus. The world is waiting.

Amen.

[1] https://www.stevethomason.net/2014/01/22/jesus-got-mad-a-sermon-on-john-213-25-jesus-cleanses-the-temple/

[2] “The Power Of Martin Luther King Jr.'s Anger” February 20, 20194:33 PM ET, Heard on All Things Considered, Nell Greenfieldboyce 2010.

Sermon 01.11.2026: Come and See

Sun, 11 Jan 2026 21:17:36 GMT

Jesus' baptism is where Christian community begins. The community Jesus creates comes about because of non-anxious invitation. Inviting people to see Jesus is not a popularity contest or a numbers game where we measure victory by budgets, attendance, or other measures.

As we claim and remember our baptismal promises, we also claim and remember our call to be community.

Scripture

John 1:29-51

The next day he saw Jesus coming towards him and declared, ‘Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world! This is he of whom I said, “After me comes a man who ranks ahead of me because he was before me.” I myself did not know him; but I came baptizing with water for this reason, that he might be revealed to Israel. ’And John testified, ‘I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove, and it remained on him. I myself did not know him, but the one who sent me to baptize with water said to me, “He on whom you see the Spirit descend and remain is the one who baptizes with the Holy Spirit.” And I myself have seen and have testified that this is the Son of God.’

The next day John again was standing with two of his disciples, and as he watched Jesus walk by, he exclaimed, ‘Look, here is the Lamb of God! ’The two disciples heard him say this, and they followed Jesus. When Jesus turned and saw them following, he said to them, ‘What are you looking for? ’

They said to him, ‘Rabbi ’(which translated means Teacher), ‘where are you staying? ’He said to them, ‘Come and see. ’They came and saw where he was staying, and they remained with him that day. It was about four o’clock in the afternoon. One of the two who heard John speak and followed him was Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother. He first found his brother Simon and said to him, ‘We have found the Messiah ’(which is translated Anointed). He brought Simon to Jesus, who looked at him and said, ‘You are Simon son of John. You are to be called Cephas ’(which is translated Peter).

The next day Jesus decided to go to Galilee. He found Philip and said to him, ‘Follow me. ’Now Philip was from Bethsaida, the city of Andrew and Peter. Philip found Nathanael and said to him, ‘We have found him about whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote, Jesus son of Joseph from Nazareth. ’Nathanael said to him, ‘Can anything good come out of Nazareth? ’Philip said to him, ‘Come and see. ’When Jesus saw Nathanael coming towards him, he said of him, ‘Here is truly an Israelite in whom there is no deceit! ’Nathanael asked him, ‘Where did you come to know me? ’Jesus answered, ‘I saw you under the fig tree before Philip called you. ’Nathanael replied, ‘Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel! ’ Jesus answered, ‘Do you believe because I told you that I saw you under the fig tree? You will see greater things than these. ’ And he said to him, ‘Very truly, I tell you, you will see heaven opened and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of Man.’

Sermon

OUR TEXT FROM JOHN’S GOSPEL TODAY gives us another picture of how we are called together into community. It begins with John the Baptist’s account of Jesus ’baptism, which is closely connected to the calling of the disciples.

And we know about the disciples. They are not called because they have it all together or because they bring with them particular crime fighting skills. We know that they say and do the wrong things all the time. But they are better together than any of them are alone.

In this account, they recognize Jesus for who he is. “Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!” They proclaim his identity at the very beginning of his ministry, perhaps even calling him into his role and his better nature. And then they invite others to come and see and join them on the journey.

The community Jesus creates comes about because of non-anxious invitation . Inviting people to see Jesus is not a popularity contest or a numbers game where we measure victory by budgets, attendance, or other measures. John the Baptizer points Jesus out to two of his own disciples—“Look, here is the Lamb of God!”— and they immediately leave John to follow Jesus. John’s testimony was worth something, it seems. John’s testimony was also self-sacrificial. If all his disciples start following Jesus instead of following him, the membership of John’s church is going to go down and how will he pay the bills, hire a youth director, etc., etc.?

Jesus’ response to these new people following him is different than we might expect from some people today. He doesn’t say, “YES! I’ve got two more! I’ve got more disciples than anyone! I’ve stolen some of John’s congregation and so my church will be the biggest church in Israel!”

He doesn’t ask them what they can do for him. “Is one of you, by chance, a guitarist? I could use a praise band at the early service.”

He doesn’t ask what their qualifications for ministry are.

He asks them, “What are you looking for?”

I don’t think they have an answer for him. They just knew that if the Lamb of God showed up, they should follow him. And Jesus invites them to “come and see.”

They didn’t have to sign a contract or a non-compete clause. They were, we imagine, free to leave at any point, to “go and not see.”

American Christians, people like us, have not been the best at non-anxious invitation in recent years. There is a strand of Christianity that wants to bring people into the fold so the people won’t end up going to Hell. Or we act like if you don’t see things exactly the same way we do, you’re wrong. I suspect that's not most of us, but perhaps some of us have been on the other side of an invitation that felt like more of an imperative.

From what some of you have told me, I know there is also a reticence to invite people to come and see because we don’t want to be a jerk. We don’t want to be the people who make Christianity seem like such a joyless venture. And sadly, that means we end up keeping the Good News to ourselves.

God’s community is invitational. I try to ask people who join the church how they found us. And occasionally, someone will mention someone by name as having invited them. Your invitations to other people, inviting them to come and see, are not inconsequential. Who might need your invitation now, in this crazy mixed-up world

we’re in, to come and see a glimpse of grace in community?

The invitation doesn’t have an expiration date. We don’t invite someone to join us at church and say, “but this offer is only good for a month and then it expires. ACT NOW. Operators standing by.”

Sometimes the invitation takes years to play out, so people might not even remember having been invited. The invitation might be something they heard, read, or saw at some point in the past, something you had done or said in the community, that stayed there in the back of their minds until the call to “come and see” Calvary was remembered. Or maybe the invitation happened in another town, or when you were a kid, and you didn’t remember the invitation until you were sitting on the 22 Fillmore, looked out the window, and saw the church as the bus went by.

One of our new members in the fall class first visited Calvary in the late 90s to hear Dave Brubeck perform in the sanctuary. I am thankful he felt the invitation, as it worked in his life for 30 years to bring him here now. There is no expiration date to God’s invitation. Because we are all in different places and moments of our journey. God’s time is not our time.

Who invited you to “come and see”? Can you even remember? What made you want to be a part of a community that followed a Palestinian Jew who died 2,000 years ago and claimed to be the Son of God?

I noticed that in each of the responses to the invitation in this story in John’s gospel, people noticed a different thing about Jesus. For John the Baptizer, Jesus was the Lamb of God. For Andrew, Jesus was the Messiah. Phillip followed a direct invitation from Jesus and then invited Nathanael because “we have found him about whom

Moses in the law and the prophets wrote, Jesus son of Joseph from Nazareth.” Nathanael followed Jesus because of what Jesus knew about Nathanael—that might be my favorite reason of all of them— the notion that God knows exactly who I am, and wants me to follow anyway.

Each of us would describe who Jesus is in different terms. This doesn’t mean we’re wrong for having different answers. It’s worth noting that what brings us to faith may be different than what drew someone else. Each of the gospel writers, and the apostle Paul, describe Jesus in very different terms too. And while that may be uncomfortable for us, I think it is worth noting. The very nature of God become human is a difficult thing to get our minds around. It is okay when we see Jesus and understand something differently than someone else does. Which means we won’t offer a class on exactly what to say to invite someone to “come and see” Jesus. What I like about these call stories in John’s gospel is that each of the disciples are drawn by different things and are accepted as they are. Nathanael is invited, even as he makes fun of Jesus’ hometown.

They even take snarky disciples to follow Jesus, which surely gives me hope.

Jesus took one look at Simon and said, “You are Simon, son of John. You are to be called Cephas (which is translated “Rocky”). He recognizes everything in Peter in a glance—his passion, his impetuous spirit, his deep heart—and he never tries to pretend Peter is anything other than that. The invitation to come and see is for our authentic selves.

Which means our invitation to others needs to come from our own authentic self too. Speaking of faith is never the time to pretend to be someone you’re not. And it may not involve a lot of words.

Think about a time in your life when you, with all your quirks and particularities, were invited into relationship by someone’s honest and authentic invitation.

I’ve had a few friendships over the years that come to mind. When I was in college, this amazing and brilliant young woman who clearly had it all together wanted to be my friend. At first, I kept looking behind me, wondering who she was really talking to. And then I realized it was me. Once I got to know her, I saw that my view of her perfection was coming from my insecurities and not from her. She was honest about herself and

invited me into her life with all of its complexities. And she helped me become more honest about my own imperfections and she stood by me, literally holding my hand through the most difficult days of my life.

There have also been invitations, either that I have offered or that have been offered to me, that haven’t been accepted. And while that stings when it happens, it is a gift to say no to the wrong invitation so that you are available to say yes to the one that is meant for you.

A little later in John’s gospel, Jesus offers a teaching about what we now understand to be communion. “Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood have eternal life, and I will raise them up on the last day; for my flesh is true food and my blood is true drink. Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them.”

On hearing that, some of his disciples say, “What are you talking about? That’s nuts. We’re outta here.” And Jesus says, “Cool. See ya. Bye.” (That’s a rough translation of the Greek).

The invitation may not be for everyone, and that’s okay. Not everyone wants to come and see. Some people may have been so hurt and injured by previous churches that they may never darken the door of a church again.

Our job description as disciples is to do the inviting. God’s job description is the saving of the world. We will do our part and trust God will do theirs.

The invitation to come and see is less about building an argument for faith and convincing people that we have the right, and only, answer to the question. Our very lives are how we invite people to come and see—how are we living out our faith so people will want to join in community?

+++

In John‘s Gospel, Jesus’ baptism happens offstage. We don’t actually see it. This will be a theme in John’s gospel—we are not eyewitnesses to the life of Jesus. We only know of Jesus through what other people tell us about him.

Which means we need to tell others about Jesus somehow too.

As we see the stories of Jesus and the disciples play out, it will show us what we already know from our own experience—community is messy and challenging and wonderful. Life giving and aggravating. And that’s our invitation.

And the invitation matters. We are in a world that is fractured and isolated, where people have lost the thread of community and connection. Who might need an invitation out of their isolation? I know that, in these days, especially, I am thankful for the gift of this community in my life. Who else might need that gift and how much

stronger would we be for their presence?

I’d like to leave you with a quote from a Roman Catholic Archbishop from Brazil, Dom Helder Camara. He said, “When we are dreaming alone, it is only a dream. When we are dreaming with others, it is the beginning of reality.”

Friends, what reality are we being called to dream together? How will our lives respond to the invitation? Come and see!

Sermon 01.04.2026: Nations Shall Come to Your Light

Sun, 04 Jan 2026 19:24:19 GMT

Join us as we celebrate Epiphany, when the magi journeyed to see Jesus, and receive our Star Words. The prophet Isaiah preaches to people in exile a word of hope. Even as they walk in thick darkness, he tells them that nations will come to their light. How did Isaiah's prophecy come true in the story of the magi? How does it come true in our world?

Scripture

Isaiah 60:1-6

Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the LORD has risen upon you.

For darkness shall cover the earth and thick darkness the peoples, but the LORD will arise upon you, and his glory will appear over you.

Nations shall come to your light and kings to the brightness of your dawn.

Lift up your eyes and look around; they all gather together; they come to you; your sons shall come from far away, and your daughters shall be carried in their nurses' arms.

Then you shall see and be radiant; your heart shall thrill and rejoice, because the abundance of the sea shall be brought to you; the wealth of the nations shall come to you.

A multitude of camels shall cover you, the young camels of Midian and Ephah; all those from Sheba shall come. They shall bring gold and frankincense and shall proclaim the praise of the LORD.

John 1:1-14

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.

There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light. The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world.

He was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him. He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him. But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God.

And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.

Sermon

AS WORSHIP BEGAN, I MENTIONED THAT ON EPIPHANY, WE OFTEN HEAR THE STORY OF THE MAGI. You may have noticed as scripture was read that there were no magi referenced anywhere in either Isaiah or John’s readings.

I like to keep you on your toes.

No, actually, the Narrative Lectionary, from which we take our scripture passages, takes the time between Christmas and Easter to read through a different gospel, and this year we get John.

John’s Gospel is one of my favorite books of the Bible which surprises people who know me well.

I can be a little direct, and I’ve got stuff to do and like it when people get to the point. And John is the opposite of that. John does eventually get to a point, but it takes a minute. I like his exalted and poetic language in writing, but I think I wouldn’t have patience if I had coffee with John and he talked like he writes. He’s a little woo woo for me. Jesus rarely answers questions directly in any of the gospels, but in John’s his answers are even less clear. In this gospel, Jesus tells his disciples he is the bread of life. He tells them he is the Way, the Truth, the Life. He’ll tell them that if they want to understand his signs, they need to be born again.

We have 2,000 years of church teaching so those phrases make sense to us, maybe. But imagine asking your rabbi, your pastor, a question and having them tell you “I am the gate for the sheep”.

Of the 4 gospels we have in the Bible, John’s has the most elevated Christology, which is a fancy way of saying that if there’s a continuum between Jesus being human and Jesus being God, John is all the way over on the God side of the line.

We just heard the “birth story” as told by John, and unlike the one told by Luke that we heard on Christmas Eve, this one didn’t start with him being born to a woman like human babies are born. John’s gospel begins with “in the beginning was the Word and the Word was God.” In John’s gospel, Jesus wasn’t born. He did the borning. He was there at the beginning of creation when God created the world.

Out of the gate, John lets us know his understanding of Jesus is different than the others.

It was also written around or after 100 CE, the latest of the 4 gospels we have in the Bible, written about 70 years after Jesus had died. It is not an eyewitness account. It is telling us the stories of Jesus that they have heard from other people. Even in the description of John the Baptist in the passage we just heard, we get a sense of that. There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. “He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him.” Notice next week when Jesus is baptized—we hear about the baptism but we don’t see it. We aren’t eyewitnesses to history in John’s gospel. We are people who live in the light of God because other people told us the story of Jesus. And I think that is one of the reasons I love this gospel the most. Because my faith grew and developed because of how other people showed me who Jesus was. None of us were eyewitnesses to the life of Jesus. So we have to be careful about who we trust to show him to us.

One thing I want you to know about the Book of John as you prepare to hear a lot of it the next few months, is that it is about signs. What other biblical writers may call ‘miracles’, John calls signs. They are to reveal something about Jesus. Always. That’s why they happen. In the epilogue of the Gospel, it says, "Therefore many other signs Jesus also performed in the presence of the disciples, which are not written in this book; but these have been written so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God; and that believing you may have life in His name.”

John’s entire Gospel is an epiphany, a revelation about Jesus, shown through signs and testimony of other disciples.

The other thing I want you to pay attention to as we read through John is the cosmic nature of his story. He’s writing to actual people in a community, so the politics are also local. But they are not only local. Jesus didn’t come to save a person, or a small group of people. Jesus came to save the WORLD and restore it with heaven.

The issues at stake in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus are cosmic.

John 3:16 has weirdly become the scripture passage people like to hold up on signs at football games. 'For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.’

I’m not sure what it has to do with football, but it proves my point that John’s gospel cares about the whole world. I think people should start putting John 3:17 on signs, just to see what happens. 'Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.’ Or maybe John 11:35, which might better sum up how Jesus felt about the 49ers game yesterday, and the rest of the news, for that matter. “Jesus wept”.

This means that our salvation, while personal, is never private. We can’t ever think that we could be saved while people are suffering down the street or across the world. Salvation for John’s gospel is complete and total for all of creation. We hear “so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but have eternal life” and it feels singular. Much of American Christianity today believes it is deeply private and singular. We believe. You don’t believe. I’m going to heaven. You’re not.

For John, it is about the work we all have to do so that nobody will perish. Because not one thing came into being without Jesus the word. There is not a part of this world that does not matter deeply to the Word of God. What has come into being through him is life.

And for John and the authors of the New Testament, salvation wasn’t about our souls escaping the earth for heaven. Salvation was about heaven coming to earth. The redemption of the world through Jesus is to unite earth and heaven, not to abandon earth for heaven.

So as we hear John’s gospel in the coming weeks, let us look for the epiphany of the signs and the epiphany for the whole world.

We also heard a passage from the prophet Isaiah. And this passage is assigned on Epiphany largely for the last verse, I suspect. ‘They shall bring gold and frankincense and shall proclaim the praise of the LORD.’

When they read the story of the magi coming to visit the Holy Family, the people who knew their bibles would have recognized yet another connection of Jesus to the writings of Isaiah. And we finally understand why they brought such age-appropriate baby gifts. We can blame Isaiah.

And Isaiah speaks of the nations coming to the light of God. That word in Hebrew is also sometimes translated as ‘people’ or ‘gentiles’. Isaiah talks about the nations a lot, and sometimes Isaiah is talking about an actual nation state, like Assyria or Egypt or Babylon. But most of the time he’s talking about all the people, and not just the people of Israel. The message Isaiah receives from God is news that is for more than the people sitting in the pews in his church. It is for all the peoples in the world. What God is doing in the world is bigger than for just one group of people. It is for all the nations, all the people.

When we hear Nations will come to your light, we shouldn’t confuse that with our understanding of conversion from one religion to another. Because there are countries where the majority of people follow religious traditions other than Christianity.

As Presbyterian flavored Christians, we believe that God has shown us who God is through the person of Jesus. We also believe that God is showing other people who God is through other teachers and traditions. Because God is bigger than any of us could ever comprehend.

You may have heard the ancient Buddhist parable about the elephant. A group of people encounter an animal in the dark they’d never seen before. They sensed it was big so they spread out and reached their hands into the dark to encounter it. The first person, whose hand landed on a trunk, said, "This being is like a thick snake". For another one whose hand reached its ear, it seemed like a kind of fan. As for another person, whose hand was upon its leg, said, the animal is a pillar like a tree-trunk. The man who placed his hand upon its side said the animal, “is a wall”. Another who felt its tail, described it as a rope. The last felt its tusk, stating the animal is that which is hard, smooth and like a spear.

As morning dawned, and the light of the sun shone on the scene, they saw the animal and encountered an elephant. Each of them was correct in their description of what they had felt in the dark, but in the light, they could see the whole animal and realized they had only understood in part.

When Isaiah says, “nations will stream to your light”, he is reminding us that all of the ways we divide ourselves— while they may help us start to understand God—our divisions do not limit God’s concern or care for the entirety of creation.

The word “nations” in this passage is particularly interesting this week, and a little troubling if you don’t have the context for the meaning of the word, as the regime in the White House continues to talk about returning the US to being a Christian nation. First, the US was never a Christian nation. The founding fathers intentionally built provisions into the Constitution to keep this land free of the religious restrictions they faced in the countries they’d fled when they came here to start a new life.

Second, a nation could not convert and follow Jesus, even if it wanted to. Individual people in the nation can seek to know and follow Jesus but when people talk about a Christian nation, they are co-opting language of faith to bless the behavior of the government, justifying any bad behavior because God is on their side. This weekend, as our president decided unilaterally, without an act of congress, to invade Venezuela and kidnap its terrible and corrupt president, he modeled the weaponization of Christianity into Christian nationalism. Listen to the language our government is using.

Jamar Tisby wrote, “In white Christian nationalism, power becomes sanctified. Using military force is reframed as a moral duty. Domination is recast as a divine right. We’re seeing in real-time how theology is literally weaponized.”

For Trump, bombing another country and kidnapping its president is not piracy and crime. It is righteous intervention.

This nightmare we’re seeing today is not what Isaiah meant when he said “nations will stream to your light."

I had a difficult time working on this sermon, which surprised me because Epiphany is my favorite of all church days. And part of it was, I’m sure, that it was the week after Christmas and I was filled with cheese and confusion about what day it was. But I think it was also because the epiphany we’re getting right now about who we are as a nation, and how we’ve allowed cruelty and lawlessness to go unchecked and unchallenged, and how we’re using religion to justify our sin, is not an epiphany I really wanted to consider.

And that’s the thing about the light of God. It shines on the good and it shines on the bad. It illuminates those moments and interactions where we get it right. Where we love well, and live generously, and heal our wounds, and care for others. And the light of God illuminates those moments when we choose hate and exclusion, and when we grab power and hoard wealth, and when we cause harm to those for whom we could be offering care.

Often, I think we feel like we need to only be seen in the good light, that if God actually knew who we were, that God would walk away from us in a hurry. And so I want to offer you, and me, this epiphany this morning. The light of God never leaves you. It shines on you and you and you and me. And it always has and it always will. And the love God has for you has never been dependent on what was in the spotlight—good or bad.

If you think God will only love you once you’re perfect or do all the right things, I invite you to remember that the God who created you in love, sees you in love now. When we see the light of God illuminating the things we’d rather keep hidden, or pretend are not happening in the world in our name, our response to that is to look, to really see the things we’d rather keep hidden, and then choose differently. Can we trust in the goodness of God enough to see ourselves, and our nation, with honesty?

The fact that God sees us, loves us, and shines the divine light on us does not mean that God loves our foolishness or cruelty. God wants better for us because God loves the world God created. You can’t change what you don’t, or won’t, see or acknowledge. Being in the light of God gives us an opportunity to do better once we can see ourselves more honestly, and can acknowledge the harm caused by our behavior, and repair what we need to repair. We can only do that work in love.

May our epiphany in these days allow us to look upon ourselves and our nation with compassion enough to believe we can better reflect God’s light to the world God loves so much that God came to earth to live among us, full of grace and truth.

Arise, shine, for your light has come. Thanks be to God. Amen.

Sermon 12.28.2025: Jesus, A Refugee in Egypt

Sun, 28 Dec 2025 21:29:29 GMT

Not long after the birth of Christ, King Herod's fragile ego led to the slaughter of innocents. Jesus and his family, however, were able to escape this massacre by seeking refuge in Egypt. When we welcome immigrants and refugees, we welcome Jesus who knew what it meant to be displaced and how it felt to have to leave home in search of safety. This Christmas season, let us welcome the brown-skinned refugee whose birth changed the world!

Scripture

Matthew 2:13-23

Now after they had left, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, “Get up, take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there until I tell you; for Herod is about to search for the child, to destroy him.” Then Joseph got up, took the child and his mother by night, and went to Egypt, and remained there until the death of Herod. This was to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet, “Out of Egypt I have called my son.”

When Herod saw that he had been tricked by the wise men, he was infuriated, and he sent and killed all the children in and around Bethlehem who were two years old or under, according to the time that he had learned from the wise men. Then was fulfilled what had been spoken through the prophet Jeremiah: “A voice was heard in Ramah, wailing and loud lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children; she refused to be consoled, because they are no more.”

When Herod died, an angel of the Lord suddenly appeared in a dream to Joseph in Egypt and said, “Get up, take the child and his mother, and go to the land of Israel, for those who were seeking the child’s life are dead.” Then Joseph got up, took the child and his mother, and went to the land of Israel. But when he heard that Archelaus was ruling over Judea in place of his father Herod, he was afraid to go there. And after being warned in a dream, he went away to the district of Galilee. There he made his home in a town called Nazareth, so that what had been spoken through the prophets might be fulfilled, “He will be called a Nazorean.”

Sermon

The first trip I took as a new mom was when our oldest was just 2 months old. And believe it or not, part of the reason I made that trip, from Minnesota to California, was to interview, here in person at Calvary.

Mike was clerking for a judge at that time, and, as a government employee, hadn’t accrued nearly

enough vacation days to go with me the whole time, so I made the trip out alone.

Stroller, car seat, baby in a carrier, diaper bag with me, all the other luggage checked and on its way,

this tiny new human and I took our first trip together—nearly 2000 miles across the country, landing at SFO without much of a hitch. It would be the first of many trips. In fact, that first year of Austin’s life, he was on 25 different planes, traveling with me to meetings and conferences and to visit family and friends. It was mostly all domestic travel, but also to Hong Kong and back.

We were lucky that, for the most part, he was a good traveler, meaning he slept well in the baby carrier,

and all he really needed was to be nursed and changed at the right times. Traveling with little ones, though, is always an added challenge, right? But it seemed worth it, and it seemed worthwhile at the time. That being said, we weren’t fleeing from violence or for our lives. And we always had a place to call home, even when we were changing homes from St Paul to San Francisco.

So, it’s hard for me to imagine the plight of the Holy Family, already in a liminal place in Bethlehem, right?

That’s not their home now. Then having to escape by night and in secret to Egypt.

Sadly, we know, however, that Jesus wasn’t the first baby to flee violence and genocide, and he certainly wasn’t the last. These past few years, I’ve found myself reading several memoirs and stories

by Vietnamese and Cambodian refugees.

2025 marked the 50th anniversary of the fall of Saigon and the first Vietnamese refugees’ arrival in the United States. I’ve read “Ma and Me” by Putsata Reang; “Owner of a Lonely Heart” by Beth Nguyen;

“On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous” by Ocean Vuong; “Slow Noodles” by Chantha Nguon …

And it helps me understand a bit, but if I’m honest, I’m too afraid to really put myself in their shoes.

As a mother of three, or just an empathetic human being, the horror and fear of running from home with my children feels too close and too scary and too heart-rending to allow myself to truly imagine it.

But that’s privilege speaking, isn’t it?

Because we know, parents have done it for millennia, and still today, parents run with their babies because staying most certainly means death.

Warsan Shire in their poem “Home” writes:

no one leaves home unless

home is the mouth of a shark

you only run for the border

when you see the whole city running as well

your neighbors running faster than you

breath bloody in their throats…

you only leave home

when home won’t let you stay…

you have to understand,

that no one puts their children in a boat

unless the water is safer than the land

Warsan Shire first began writing these words after visiting

with young Somali refugees.

The poem reflects the choices refugees must often make and Shire's own disgust with the dehumanization of them in her own country of England. I first read these words in 2015 when the first stanza became a rally call for refugees and those advocating for them. And as my heart broke for Syrian mothers, carrying their infants across borders as they fled for their lives. What I really want is for tyrants like Herod to stop their maniacal behavior. Their greed and hunger for power force people to flee their homes or sacrifice their children.

Erna Kim Hackett calls Herod, “an insecure leader who panders to empire and feigns interest in religion to try and secure his authority… Herod reveals how power twists a person, how it turns faith into theater and people into pawns.”

But we wouldn’t know anything about that, would we?

Friends, Herod is every leader who will do anything to amass more power and wealth. He’s the one

redacting documents that implicate him in the harming of children. He’s the one demeaning any leader that has gone before him, or name-calling journalists doing their job. Herod is incapable of compassion or kindness, unless it is for his own benefit. Herod is a narcissist, obsessed with power. And anyone, even a newborn child, can be viewed as a threat.

I long for a world free of Herods. A world free of their fragile egos and petulant power struggles.

I am so tired of people dying, going hungry, and getting deported at the whims of these power-hungry, selfish leaders, and their pathetic grabs at any semblance for authority and control.

Enough already!

Mary sang of scattering the proud, sending the rich away empty, and toppling corrupt regimes while

pregnant with the Christ child.

And her song continues today until the powerful are truly brought down, unable to ever again harm the most vulnerable and marginalized among us.

Our Advent theme this year was “Soon and very soon,” and indeed, that has been my prayer.

But until the day that prayer is fully realized, we are reminded by Rev Kim Hackett that:

“The [Christmas] story opens with a tyrant on a throne and the Creator in the arms of a refugee woman.

Only one of them is worth following.

God shows up on the margins, not in the halls of power.”

It is worth noting then, that anywhere there is a Herod, God is with those who are oppressed by that Herod.

Anywhere there is weeping due to the policies or executive orders of Herod, God is with those who weep.

Anytime someone must leave home in fear for their lives, God is with that weary traveler.

And not only is God with that traveler, but God was, and still is, that traveler.

That is the good news of the gospel. Hope and love are born in Bethlehem.

But they are not found in a palace or on the throne. They are found in a manger.

If the powerful didn’t have the ability to ruin and destroy the lives of so many, I would pity them.

Herod never got to see the baby Jesus, never got to experience the miracle of his birth, never got to be

transformed and changed forever, like the shepherds and the magi who came and brought homage.

He never felt the joy of hope and love found at that manger. And he lived his life in fear and pathetic

longing. I almost feel sorry for him, until I remember that he slaughtered the innocents and that his tyranny killed so many.

It’s true that God still loves the Herods of the world, but I confess it’s harder for me to do so.

And while God does indeed love all people, I believe God is not found in the Herods of the world.

Rather, God is found in the scared families fleeing their homes, seeking refuge in far away lands.

Pope Pius XII (12th) said in 1952:

“The Holy Family of Nazareth, fleeing into Egypt, is the archetype of every refugee family.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph, living in exile in Egypt to escape the fury of an evil king, are, for all times and all places, the models and protectors of every migrant, alien and refugee...” [1]

Friends, let us not be mistaken. God is not with the tyrants.

God is with the refugees and all those on the margins.

The Lord, Emmanuel, the Word made flesh, was a refugee himself, escaping to Egypt for fear of his life.

And every time we welcome the stranger or the immigrant, we welcome God.

That’s why this sign on the front of our bulletin hangs outside the church today. Because we want to be a people who welcomes God among us. Every time we welcome the stranger or the immigrant, we welcome God. Every time we resist the powers and principalities that slaughter the innocents, be it in a school shooting, a detention center, or by public decree, we welcome God. Every time our choices reflect our hopes rather than our fears, we welcome God. Every time we put aside our ego and our selfish greed, we welcome God.

Friends, will we welcome God into our lives and into the world this day? Because that’s what Christmas is about.

Meister Eckhart famously said, “What good is it to me if Christ was born in Bethlehem 2,000 years ago

if he is not born today in my own heart?”

May Jesus be born to us today.

May Jesus be born in us today.

Deitrich Bonhoeffer asks: Who among us will celebrate Christmas correctly? Whoever finally lays down all power, all honor, all reputation, all vanity, all arrogance, all individualism beside the manger…”

May it be so and may that be us today and every day forward. Amen.

[1] Pope Pius XII, “Exsul Familia Nazarethana” (1952)

Post-Sermon Reflection:
A Manger in the Mud and the Muck, by Jon-Marc McDonald

New York is filled with those locked in the prison of their own minds, roaming free on the streets. They scatter about like litter in the wind, going in no clear direction but seemingly always going. Some become familiar faces, a regular part of a commute or fixtures at street corners or junkies that gather at the park at the twilight hour chasing the magic that disappeared long ago. After a while, they’re simply scenery, movable objects strewn about, another obstacle to step over or around or avoid. If

you live here long enough you find your own way to ignore the blight, lest the misery prompt you to do something about it.

And then there’s him.

He lives in my neighborhood, though by all appearances he has nowhere to actually live at all. I see him most often in the tunnel at the 190th Street A train station. He's slight, frail, shuffles his unshod feet along the shards of broken ground. His tattered black shirt and his tattered black pants match his weathered black skin. His lips are cracked, his hair an unkempt splay of wiry grey. He beats his palms against his temples and speaks to himself in a language understood only to him. He’s been around since I moved to the neighborhood over five years ago, always wearing the same clothes, no matter the

season, wending his way through the tunnel, in and out again.

On occasion, my mind drifts to his past, to a time before the present untold torment. I wonder who his parents were, if they're still living, if they know their son is no longer tethered to the realities of this life? I wonder if he ever felt the touch of another, ever experienced the great unknown of lust and love and everything in between? Did he ever have a boyfriend or a girlfriend, hold a job, run a race? What’s his favorite food, his favorite song? His birthday? Indeed, what is his name?

Where’s his friend from a time gone by, are they aware he has no shoes, that he sleeps somewhere between the park bench and outer space? Do they know their friend from yesterday is lost in a world unto his own today? Did they witness the great unraveling, the descent to his current location beyond the reach?

Today I realized I had not seen him for a while. I can’t place the exact time I saw him last but it is clear he is no longer around. My heart sank. I can't help but wonder if he was taken away, against whatever remaining will he has, to be warehoused far from our collective conscience. Or worse, that his battered body finally surrendered to a cruel world that never recognized him as a being worthy of life in the first place.

I can't help but consider that his presence made more than a few uncomfortable. I can’t help but admit that I was among those few.

The fact is, his presence in my life revealed more about me than it did him. For five years, in order to shield myself from the reality of his humanity, I had to strip him of it. Notwithstanding the occasional lapse of curiosity into his past, I had to tell myself a story that is as familiar as my own, one that includes the usual narratives meant to justify my inaction, the ones that begin with “if only”…he made better choices…and there’s surely addiction…he got an education… he tried harder…before the snap…there was a chance…he didn’t take it.

Winter finally arrived in New York City, just days before Christmas. Even insanity’s deep unknowns can’t numb the bitter reality of winter’s impending assault. If he is still around – an unlikely ‘if’ – someone saw him today for the first time. And today they were faced with the choice that every single person is faced with upon first sight of him, a choice that acknowledges his full humanity or damns him to the shadows, a choice to accept his perfect brokenness or abjures his broken perfection. It is this

choice that informs us as to who we are, not to who he is. For all our lofty talk and pride in our own compassion, for all our outrage that our neighbors are not welcoming in the refugee or that our opponents aren’t doing enough for the disenfranchised, it is the decision that we face when we face the stranger among us that speaks to who we are, and usually our decision proves our words are nothing more than hollow comfort to a world in desperate need of action.

He was my refugee, the stranger I couldn’t crack open my heart long enough to know, the outcast trying to make his way back, chained to a devastation he could not control, a man whose very existence screamed for help yet couldn’t articulate that he needed any.

And I failed him.

In a few days, much of the world will stand still to celebrate a birth. Whether you believe or not, there is no denying the fact that the season hinges on a story so removed from the realm of possibility, one must be foolish or faithful or both to believe it .

Regardless, I still cling to the story of Christmas. I still believe in its message. I am still moved by its power and awed by its great expectation.

But I am convinced that, above all, Christmas is a story about the marginalized and rejected. The majesty of Christmas is found in a manger awkwardly fitted in a stable between the dung and debris. The glory of Christmas is the outcast baby born in the mud and the muck.

If we can’t care for him in the filth of the manger, we can’t claim Him at the foot of the cross. If we can’t feed him in the shelter, we can’t find Him in the heavens. If we can’t comfort him in the asylum, we can’t carry Him to the tomb. If we can’t welcome him at our borders, we can’t receive Him in our hearts. If we can’t call him our brother, we don’t get to call Him our savior.

If Jesus is to be found anywhere this season, He will be huddled under the blankets on the city streets, He will be found in the hungry belly of the child who hasn’t eaten in days, with the man beating his temples and wandering around barefoot, next to the crack addict who needs just one more hit, holding the mother clinging to her dying child because she doesn’t know how to let go, arms wide open for those at our shores fleeing the violence of a far off land.

Because unto us a child is born.

Unto us, naked

Unto us, hungry

Unto us, battered and bruised

Unto us, imprisoned

Unto us, broken and alone

Unto us, addicted

Unto us, in tattered clothes,

Unto us, without any shoes

Unto us, either love wins every time or, unto us, the whole damn thing is a sham.

Sermon 12.24.2025: The People Who Walked in Darkness

Wed, 24 Dec 2025 21:08:10 GMT

The prophet Isaiah tells the story of people who walked in darkness. He also tells of how God shines light into the dark and shadowy places where people walk.

What is our call, as followers of the Christ child, to reflect God's light for people who are walking in darkness today?

Advent 2025: Soon and Very Soon

This Advent, we acknowledge our need for radical hope. The scriptures from this season encourage us to prepare for God's best, yet it sometimes feels like we are living in the “worst of times.” Can we hold fast to the promise that “soon and very soon” we are going to see the hope, peace, joy, and love of God manifest in our lives and int the world? Soon and very soon, friends, soon and very soon. This Advent, we wait with hope.

Scripture

Luke 2:8-20

And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.

And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.

And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.

For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.

And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.

And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying,
Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.

And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us.

And they came with haste, and found Mary, and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger.

And when they had seen it, they made known abroad the saying which was told them concerning this child.

And all they that heard it wondered at those things which were told them by the shepherds.
But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart.

And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things that they had heard and seen, as it was told unto them.

Sermon

I read a passage from the Prophet Isaiah as worship began. The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light.

What comes to mind for you when you think of biblical prophets? I think of grouchy men standing on the street corners yelling at people—often thorns in the side of political and religious leaders. Isaiah was different. He was an inside the palace kind of prophet, a good Presbyterian, in the middle of the 8th century BCE, speaking to his own people about where God was in the midst of their lives. And they were facing some tough situations and needed comfort. It’s not a surprise we might prefer the words of Isaiah to the words of Amos, or John the Baptist calling us to repent because we’re a brood of vipers. Most days, I want Isaiah’s “Comfort, comfort my people” more than I want Amos to remind me that I’ve sold the poor for a pair of sandals.

We hear “for unto us a child is born” from today’s reading and we think of Jesus, or maybe we hear Handel’s Messiah. And it is fine for us as followers of Jesus to hear Isaiah’s prophecy this way. Isaiah didn’t know about Jesus when he wrote this. He did not know Jesus would be born 700 years or so later. Isaiah might even be surprised, if flattered, to find we’re talking about him in San Francisco in 2025.

It’s interesting the way we interact with Biblical texts, isn’t it? Isaiah wrote 2700 years ago, and yet I still find his words resonate with my life. His words also blur the line between past and future. He writes:

For a child has been born for us, a son given to us.

Whether the “son” Isaiah references was one of the contemporary Kings of Israel or Judah—Hezekiah, or maybe Josiah—or whether it is Jesus, as we understand it, the fact remains that Isaiah speaks of it in the past tense. The Hebrew language doesn’t have tenses quite the same way English does, but it he does not say “a son will show up 700 years in the future.”

The son has been given already.

There is also a future directed sense of some of the passage. “He will establish and uphold (the kingdom) with justice and righteousness from this time on, forevermore.”

Time in this passage moves in weird ways. And it’s got me thinking about the way we interact with time. We experience time in a linear way— past, present, future. I’m not suggesting we can somehow overturn that, but I do think we interact with the past and the future in ways we might not usually be aware.

As some of you know, I’ve met my birth family over the past decade. On my birthday in 2017, I ended up on the phone with my birth mother. She did not call to share birthday greetings. I called her because a cousin let me know my birth mother was in the hospital. It was a perfectly nice conversation, and I am forever grateful I was able to talk with her.

I got off the phone and felt weird. It was the first time in 49 years that my birth mother and I had ever spoken on my birthday. I’m not telling you this because I wish things had been different. I’m well celebrated by my family and friends on my birthday. I remain abundantly thankful to have been adopted.

What the conversation triggered for me, though, is a realization about why my birthday had been a conflicted day for me. I would often feel depressed on my birthday, which never made conscious sense to me. Why would one be depressed on the day everyone celebrates you? Talking to my birth mother on my birthday made me realize why. My birthday is an anniversary of trauma, a day when mother and child were separated from each other without ever seeing each other or saying a word to the other.

On that birthday, even though we didn’t talk about my birthday, and honestly, I’m not sure she even knew it was my birthday, but we spoke to each other. I heard her voice. And that short conversation started to heal my past.

The infant me finally got something she needed—her birth mother’s voice on my birthday.

Sorry to get all weird and time travel-y on you here, but when else have you seen something in the present start to heal a wound of the past?

Maybe it is a serious thing like reconnecting with a family member. Maybe it is a less consequential healing. I am a rabid superfan of the Golden State Valkyries, our new WNBA team. I’ve always enjoyed watching basketball games (just don’t make me play. I can’t dribble a ball to save my life) but I was a little surprised how emotional it was for me to see women athletes succeeding on such a big stage, every single game sold out, enthusiastic crowds bringing energy I’d not seen before at Chase Center.

Women have been playing basketball as long as basketball has been a sport, but we were confined to playing on only half a court for a long time because of our ‘delicate constitutions’. Basketball was actually the first team sport women played, starting in 1892 at Smith College, with modified rules to protect Victorian understandings of the refinement and gentility of women.

Women had previously been able to play tennis, wearing corsets and long skirts, but that attire proved unwieldy on a basketball court, so the first trousers for women were worn. Initially loose and covered by a knee-length skirt, these early pants were replaced soon after by loose bloomers over stockings. Men were forbidden from watching these collegiate games, with the women in such scandalous attire.

I took my aunt Jane to our Valkyries playoff game in San Jose. She’d played half-court basketball in high school. Said she never could have imagined professional women’s basketball like this when she was growing up.

So when I think about the Valkyries, and all the young boys and girls I saw wearing jerseys of their favorite WNBA players, when I think of Aunt Jane and all the other women who fought against societal norms, it heals the little girl I was because I have hope for the girls of today that I needed for myself.

Healing in the present can help heal the past.

Isaiah reminds us that God’s light transcends even our understanding of time.

The people who walked in darkness

have seen a great light;

those who lived in a land of deep darkness—

on them light has shined.

And I want to see the light. I’m tired of walking in darkness. And at this particular time of the year—maybe it’s because the days are shorter, perhaps it stressful expectations of what the perfect holidays should be, and anxiety about how we won’t measure up, maybe it’s the constant barrage of cruelty on the news—the darkness seems oppressive.

Because of our dependence on seeing time flow from past to present to future, we get perhaps more depressed because we don’t seem to be improving. We’ve bought into the story that the future is supposed to be better than the past, that we’re supposed to learn from our mistakes. We look around and we don’t see much of that lately. From Isaiah we hear:

His authority shall grow continually,

and there shall be endless peace

for the throne of David and his kingdom.

He will establish and uphold it

with justice and with righteousness

from this time onwards and for evermore.

The zeal of the Lord of hosts will do this.

And we look around and we don’t see endless peace. We don’t see justice and righteousness from this time onwards and for evermore. Honestly, we see a lot of people on the national stage who have not healed their past trauma and are inflicting it on us right now. That is no excuse for fascism and cruelty, but when I can remember there are people whose wounds must be so deep and terrifying that they try to fill the void by demonizing others, acquiring unchecked wealth and power, putting their name on buildings and battleships, then I can have compassion for their woundedness and begin to pray for their healing.

Because our healing is all connected.

Isaiah says: The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light.

He doesn’t say people were walking in darkness and one person saw a light, but kept it for himself.

Our salvation is personal, but it is never private. We are a people. God wants healing for the whole world. God’s light shines for all, not just for a few.

I want to see the light, feel it shining down on us. I’m tired of walking in darkness.

When the light is hard to find, or to cleanse my eyeballs and my soul after reading the news, I watch clips from Steve Hartman’s On the Road , a recurring segment on CBS News (and the one nice thing I can say about CBS this week). He travels the country and visits with people who have done interesting things. Some are whimsical, like an 11-year-old girl who fell in love with the voice of Michael McDonald, lead singer of the Doobie Brothers and the joy on her face when she got to meet him over zoom.

One clip had a little girl who would go with her mother to the nursing home where the mother was a nurse, and the girl would go room to room and visit with people. And would ask each person, “If you could have any three things, what would you want?” She kept a list.

The people didn’t want Maseratis, money, and dinner with George Clooney. They wanted things like new shoes, electric razors, Vienna sausages, avocados, and cheese.

So she started a non-profit to be able to fill some of those wishes. [1] And I dare you not to cry if you watch that video where the residents give her hugs and are so joyful to be seen, and to receive Vienna sausages, of all things.

I want more of that light in the world, please.

What I notice in all those stories that give me hope is that they are never private, isolated stories. Hartman never says, “Jimmy was depressed and in need of help. So Jimmy helped only himself and is now happy all by himself.” The stories are always about connection with other people, often unlikely people. One story was 3 young men who saw an old woman eating dinner by herself in a restaurant and asked if they could eat with her. They had such a good conversation that they started meeting at the restaurant each week. The light shines and radiates out through our connections with each other.

The Christmas story is about connection in a disconnected world.

Joseph and Mary have to travel to Bethlehem because they are living under Roman occupation and need to go be registered for the census. They get there and everyone’s guest room is full. There are no rooms at the Holiday Inn. But someone makes space for them, so they can welcome their child to the world. Shepherds come to welcome the baby. Later, wisemen will bring gifts and warn the family to flee an angry insecure king. Joann will preach that story on Sunday.

God became one of us, a helpless infant, subject to the violence in the world. God became one of us, a helpless infant, subject to the hospitality and kindness of the world. God became one of us and grew up in community. Jesus was never a solo act. He gathered disciples. He declared everyone was family. He turned over tables when his community was being harmed.

If God chose to shine light by being born into a vulnerable community in the midst of political unrest, maybe we need to reconsider our call. How are we reflecting God's light into a world in the midst of unrest?

The author Toni Morrison said, “If you are free, you need to free somebody else. If you have some power, then your job is to empower somebody else”.

Perhaps it is when we are in the midst of darkness that we appreciate our call to reflect God’s light the most. For Isaiah, God has shined a light on us so that we can, in turn, bear that holy light into the world. Remember the simple power of shining and reflecting light for people who walk in darkness.

In a few minutes, the sanctuary will darken, and we will light the Christ candle, one small light in the darkness. But then from that light, we will each light our candles as we sing Silent Night. I pray this year we will all carry the image of the light we will shine in this service, that we may remember the difference we can make when we shine together.

The people who walked in darkness

have seen a great light;

those who lived in a land of deep darkness—

on them light has shined.

Go, bear the light into the darkness. Amen.

[1] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=avdBHbVwe9E

Sermon 12.21.2025: Rejoice! Rejoice!

Sun, 21 Dec 2025 23:52:41 GMT

In a dream, Joseph received a startling message from God turned his world upside down, and Joseph's faithfulness in responding to God's dream, changed the world. We rejoice for all who hear God's dreams and respond with faith instead of fear.

Advent 2025: Soon and Very Soon

Scripture

Matthew 1:18-25

Now the birth of Jesus the Messiah took place in this way. When his mother Mary had been engaged to Joseph, but before they lived together, she was found to be with child from the Holy Spirit. Her husband Joseph, being a righteous man and unwilling to expose her to public disgrace, planned to dismiss her quietly. But just when he had resolved to do this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, ‘Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.’ All this took place to fulfil what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet:

‘Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son,

and they shall name him Emmanuel’,

which means, ‘God is with us.’

When Joseph awoke from sleep, he did as the angel of the Lord commanded him; he took her as his wife, but had no marital relations with her until she had borne a son; and he named him Jesus.

Sermon

Have you ever looked at the families in Christmas advertisements and commercials?

They are all beautiful. They wear outfits that are coordinating, but not too matchy-matchy . They are uniformly happy and joyful. They are gathered together around a perfectly decorated tree in a gorgeous home. They have 10 people around a perfectly set table, in front a perfectly prepared feast.

I don’t know about you, but that’s not what our holidays have ever looked like in my whole life. On Christmas, we sit around the tree in our pajamas with our hair a mess. And when the boys were younger, it was always a good time until someone got shot in the face with the new nerf gun.

Those ads with the perfect families don’t show the anxiety of the parents who just spent too much money on Christmas in an effort to keep up with the Joneses.

They don’t show the people who are alone on Christmas because they don’t have family nearby.

They don’t show that cousin, Jimmy, didn’t show up for the meal because he is in a fight with his dad.

Those ads don’t show how the mom has a migraine because she just cooked for 24 hours straight to prepare the perfect meal, wrap all the presents, and make everything just so.

They don’t show that the conversation is about the weather, because if they started talking about religion or politics, some people would get up and leave.

They don’t show the sadness at the table because it is the first holiday since a loved one died.

My point is that e’ve bought into a false image of what the holidays should be. We look at these ads and wonder, “Why isn’t my life like that?” When, in reality, we should be looking at these ads and wondering, “Who are these people?”

Because, as wonderful as our families may be, they aren’t perfect.

I know you already know that.

But I encourage you this week, as you prepare to head toward Christmas, to give yourself permission to take a deep breath and truly believe that. No human family is perfect.

And when you start to doubt it and start getting sucked back in to the illusion of those elusive perfect families, read this text from Matthew’s gospel.

Because if God wanted to enforce and perpetuate our efforts to worship perfect families, we wouldn’t be reading this story from Matthew.

In the perfect version, Mary and Joseph would have been high school sweethearts and would have safely have already walked down the aisle before news of the pregnancy leaked. Not to mention that they would have lived in Rome or Athens, and not in a backwoods town under occupation. And they wouldn’t have had to have angels intervene for their relationship to successfully proceed.

The story we have from Matthew’s story today shows us that God walked right into imperfect lives, just like ours, and became flesh and lived among us. Emmanuel, God is with us.

Right before this text, Matthew gives us his account of Jesus’ genealogy and I encourage you to look through it in all your free time before Christmas. Mixed in with all of the begats are some interesting names.

There are women mentioned, which is worth noting.

There’s Tamar, who seduced her father in law because he wouldn’t give her in marriage to one of his other sons after her husband had died.

There’s Ruth, who was a foreigner, an undocumented refugee, and the grandmother of King David.

There’s Bathsheba, who King David wanted, but she was already married. So David had her husband killed in battle so he could take her for himself, and you probably can guess what happened to her.

Matthew doesn’t hide these stories about Jesus ’ancestors. By mentioning the women by name, he actually highlights them. He wants you to notice these mentions and remember their stories. From the beginning of his gospel, Matthew makes it clear

that Jesus is the Messiah, AND that his “pedigree” is only perfect in its imperfection.

Matthew’s genealogy ends like this: “and Jacob the father of Joseph the husband of Mary, of whom Jesus was born, who is called the Messiah.”

What do you notice there?

Jesus’ lineage goes back to Abraham through Josephe’s side of the family. Not Mary’s. The only way for that to happen, according to what the Bible tells us, is through adoption. Jesus the Messiah, the son of God, is adopted by a carpenter from Nazareth named Joseph.

It almost didn’t turn out that way.

When Joseph found out that Mary was pregnant, he made plans to quietly dismiss her. What he should have done, according to religious and social customs, was to publicly shame her and have her stoned. Dismissing her quietly was the more compassionate response of those two options.

We‘re told only that Mary was “found to be with child from the Holy Spirit.” The scene with Mary and the Angel and Mary’s song, the one we heard last week, isn’t told in Matthew’s gospel, only Luke’s. I’m a little annoyed with Matthew for leaving out a pretty important part of the story.

But maybe this version more closely resembles women’s experience.

Women’s lives every day are dependent on people believing what the woman says about her own sex life. From discussions of contraception to legalization of abortion, from unplanned pregnancies to stories of rape and assault. Think back to the news stories and consider the burden of proof we put on women when they tell stories about what happened to their own bodies. The Epstein files come to mind.

Before you declare that first century Palestine was too dangerous for women, but things are fine here, ask yourself how Mary would fare today if she were “found to be with child from the Holy Spirit.” Think about how we care for single moms today.

Would politicians today support her?

Religious leaders?

What did Joseph make of the story Mary told him about her pregnancy?

If he was planning on dismissing her quietly, it doesn’t sound like he was fully on board with her story.

And then the angel came to him.

“Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.”

Using the greeting of angels throughout scripture, do not be afraid, the angel tells Joseph to take Mary as wife and to claim the son she will bear by naming him.

And Joseph agrees to go along with this plan. We don’t often hear about Joseph’s call. But he was called. By an angel. Joseph accepted the call to adopt the son of God and support his wife’s calling. By saying yes to the angel, to God, Joseph tied his complicated and messy story into the very narrative of God’s salvation for the world.

I confess I wish Joseph didn’t need the angel’s visit before he could believe Mary’s story. I suppose that is a part of my Advent journey, longing for the world I know can exist, but which we don’t see fully realized quite yet. It breaks my heart that Mary’s testimony wasn’t enough for him.

We don’t seem to have as many angel visits these days, at least not as they are described in scripture. Maybe today, Joseph’s angel would be the waitress at the diner, willing to listen to his predicament, willing to call him out for not believing his fiancée.

Maybe today, his angel would be his friends at church, who ask him to consider what he stands to lose if he dismisses Mary.

Maybe his angel visit would be a friend who was willing to sit with him while he cried over the death of his perfect image of what his story was going to be.

You and I know what the angel said to Joseph. And we know Mary will get her own visit from an angel because we’ve read Luke’s gospel. But Mary and Joseph’s families didn’t get a visit from the angel. They hadn’t read this script.

What do you think Joseph’s mother thought about the plan? He’s a son of David. He can trace his lineage back to Abraham and the Mayflower, for goodness sake. How do you think she reacted to the news?

Yet Joseph stood up to social convention and, presumably, his mother, and answered God’s call.

For Joseph, the faithful response was at odds with social conventions.

Has that ever happened in your life?

Have you ever felt that the best way for you to be true to yourself and true to who God was calling you to be required you to be at odds with the culture around you?

I suspect many of you could tell your own story of the time you had to stick up for your child, or when someone stood up for you, when you knew doing the right thing was not the easy thing.

I think about those of you who have stood up for your children as they have come out with a sexual orientation or gender identity at odds with what society considers ‘normal’. You know what it is to be faithful, when even the church wasn’t always on your side.

This perfectly imperfect story of Joseph cuts very close to my own life. Many of you know some of my story about adoption.

For me, having a baby when I was in college and then placing him for adoption was not how I dreamed about the perfect life I thought I was supposed to live. It certainly wasn’t how I pictured living out my life in faith either.

Yet, when I ended up in that situation, the best way I could figure out to be true to who I was and true to who I thought God was calling me to be, was to place my son for adoption.

The public nature of my situation brought about some comments. There were people who didn’t think that a pregnant teen could call herself a Christian and felt a need to share God’s “love” with me that way.

Thankfully, however, most of the people I encountered through that year must have been visited by angels as they slept.

Because I met a lot of people like Joseph. People who were righteous and could have easily shunned me.

But didn’t.

They welcomed me at church and at school. They took care of me. They took me out to lunch. They protected me.

I can’t tell you how thankful I am for all of those Josephs, and for whatever angels it took for them to be able to greet my situation with grace. Their love for me through the difficult hours of my life showed me God’s love in ways that words never could have.

And my very imperfect story became the perfect one for me. My son is still in my life, all these years later and remains one of the biggest gifts.

When are the times in your lives when you’ve encountered a Joseph? When your life was so far from perfect that you didn’t know what was going to happen next?

We heard Mary’s Magnificat, her song of praise, last week. I understand it in new ways in light of this story, thinking about what a relief Joseph’s decision must have been for her. She knew her own truth but was still at the mercy of how a man was going to interpret it.

And how open are we to being like the post-angel-visit Joseph? When we are we willing to set aside what society, or even church, tells us is the “right” thing to do so that we can do the faithful act?

And can we let go of the idea that someone else’s story is picture perfect while ours is a mess? We need to share the beauty in the brokenness of our own stories so people can journey with us through it. Our perfection is found in our imperfection.

Who in your life needs to encounter a Joseph right now? And are there Josephs who are in need of some angelic help from us?

I’m thankful the angel intervened and spoke with Joseph. Because the other alternatives for Mary were bad. Even if Joseph had just dismissed her quietly, which was the better of the options, she would have lived a quiet and secluded life, cut off from all society, hidden away in her parents ’home. Mary wouldn’t have been able to place the baby for adoption and then finish college and go on to marry the love of her life as I did.

Mary’s life would have been over. And what would have happened to her son, the son of God, born to save his people?

When God came to earth, he picked the perfect family for God’s son. (Almost as good of a family as my son got through adoption, and almost as good as the one I got 57 years ago when I was adopted).

Their perfection wasn’t in their coordinating Christmas outfits or the large number of gifts under the tree. It wasn’t in the amount of money or political clout they possessed. There was nothing, by earthly standards, to recommend them to a divine adoption agency.

Here’s what they did have.

They both said “yes” to the angel.

And they were willing to humble themselves in front of the world in order to do their part to save the world.

And there was compassion and grace ready to supplant judgment, offering a chance at life to the young girl bearing the child

Immanuel,

God is with us,

born to save us all.

Our very salvation was born, in part, because of human compassion in the midst of human imperfection.

As we continue through this Advent journey, let us remember Joseph, willing to answer God’s call.

Here’s part of a poem from David Whyte that sums up our call to be Joseph.

and how we are all

preparing for that

abrupt waking,

and that calling,

and that moment

we have to say yes,

except it will

not come so grandly,

so Biblically,

but more subtly

and intimately in the face

of the one you know

you have to love.

(The True Love, from House of Belonging )

May it be so. Amen.

Sermon 12.14.2025: Finding Joy in the Mess of Life

Sun, 14 Dec 2025 21:52:06 GMT

God chose an unwed teenage girl to bear the son of God.

It reminds us that God is willing to be vulnerable. Because Mary was vulnerable. There was a more than decent chance that this pregnancy could have resulted in Mary being stoned to death. God does not just have a preference for the poor and the weak. God became poor and weak. God came to earth and joined a family, entering into the struggles, the fears, the anxieties, the joys, the celebrations, and the gifts that go along with being family.

Advent 2025: Soon and Very Soon

Scripture

Luke 1:46b-55

"My soul magnifies the Lord,

and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,

for he has looked with favor on the lowly state of his servant. Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed, for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name;

indeed, his mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation.

He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts.

He has brought down the powerful from their thrones and lifted up the lowly;

he has filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away empty.

He has come to the aid of his child Israel, in remembrance of his mercy,

according to the promise he made to our ancestors, to Abraham and to his descendants forever."

Isaiah 35:1-10

The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad,

the desert shall rejoice and blossom;

like the crocus it shall blossom abundantly,

and rejoice with joy and singing.

The glory of Lebanon shall be given to it,

the majesty of Carmel and Sharon.

They shall see the glory of the Lord,

the majesty of our God.

Strengthen the weak hands,

and make firm the feeble knees.

Say to those who are of a fearful heart,

‘Be strong, do not fear!

Here is your God.

He will come with vengeance,

with terrible recompense.

He will come and save you.’

Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened,

and the ears of the deaf unstopped;

then the lame shall leap like a deer,

and the tongue of the speechless sing for joy.

For waters shall break forth in the wilderness,

and streams in the desert;

the burning sand shall become a pool,

and the thirsty ground springs of water;

the haunt of jackals shall become a swamp,*

the grass shall become reeds and rushes.

A highway shall be there,

and it shall be called the Holy Way;

the unclean shall not travel on it,*

but it shall be for God’s people;*

no traveller, not even fools, shall go astray.

No lion shall be there,

nor shall any ravenous beast come up on it;

they shall not be found there,

but the redeemed shall walk there.

And the ransomed of the Lord shall return,

and come to Zion with singing;

everlasting joy shall be upon their heads;

they shall obtain joy and gladness,

and sorrow and sighing shall flee away.

Sermon

One of my favorite images of joy is an outtake from a family’s Christmas card photo shoot. Three children are dressed up in their holiday finery, sitting next to each other, and each holding a letter. J O Y. But if you’ve ever done a photo shoot with young children, you might not be surprised when I tell you the three kids are all crying.

I love the word joy. It is different than happiness. Happiness is good, and worth pursuing, but is most often a response or reaction to something external. We laugh at a funny story a friend shares. We enjoy a good meal and feel happy.

Joy is not dependent on external circumstances. Joy emerges from inside, and is an overflowing of your meaning, your purpose, your contentment.

Happiness triggers a dopamine response in your brain. Joy shows up in a different part of your brain. Joy lights up the brain in areas associated with:

Meaning-making and purpose

Spiritual and transcendent experiences

Long-term wellbeing and contentment

Emotional regulation and resilience

And one other difference between joy and happiness is that only joy can co-exist with difficulty. Happiness fades when the external circumstances change. Joy comes from within.

CS Lewis describes joy this way. “Joy is distinct… from pleasure. It must have the stab, the pang, the

inconsolable longing.”

The photo of the crying children holding the word JOY is a perfect image for joy.

And friends, we need to work our joy muscles these days. Not to pretend everything is fine, but so we can keep rooted to the things that matter, no matter what terrible things the world is doing.

And the news was grim again this week. A shooting in Australia yesterday targeted a Jewish community celebrating Hanukkah. Antisemitism has no place in our world, and yet it takes up too much space. How can this be?

College students at Brown University were killed and injured yesterday when someone opened fire in a

classroom as they were studying for finals. Gun violence has no place in our world, and yet it takes up too much space. How can this be?

ICE continues to target people based on the color of their skin, arresting citizens, pepper spraying unarmed crowds, and in Boston, they pulled people out of line to become US citizens. These people had done all the work and were preparing to swear oaths of allegiance to our country, with no criminal history, when they were sent away. This level of hatred and racism has no place in our world, and yet it takes up too much space. How can this be?

The news has been grim but yet, here we are, despite our questions, with our questions, to proclaim joy and not despair.

Because despair is just a stop on the journey, a place where you pull over, look back at what has been lost, and then prepare to journey again, into this new world that will be different than the one we knew before. And it is moments like these when I am especially thankful that I am not on the journey alone. Thankful for this chance to come together and pray, and sing, and be in community together.

Mary didn’t want to be alone either. Mary, in all likelihood, was still a teenager. Girls married very young at a time when the life expectancy was 40.

Unplanned, unwed teenage pregnancies, as difficult as they are today, would have been more than

devastating for Mary in her culture.

And, quite frankly, it doesn’t matter that the pregnancy is God’s—because while the angel told her that she was blessed and that she shouldn’t be afraid, the angel did not take out an ad in the Jerusalem Times to make sure that everyone else knew that.

”How can this be?”, she asks the angel.

How can this be, indeed.

I can only imagine what was going through her head when the angel showed up. “Greetings, favored

one!”

”Who? Me? Favored by whom?”

Can’t you just see Mary looking around, trying to figure out to whom the angel would be speaking in this dusty town of Nazareth.

Favored one? I don’t know how many years it has been since you were a teenage girl or might have known many teenage girls, but I suspect that “favored one” is not how they often see themselves.

What are the implications for us if God chose an unwed teenage girl to bear the son of God?

One that occurs to me is that here is our proof that God is willing to be vulnerable. Because Mary was

vulnerable. There was a more than decent chance that this pregnancy could have resulted in Mary being stoned to death. God does not just have a preference for the poor and the weak. God became poor and weak.

God came to earth and joined a family, entering into the struggles, the fears, the anxieties, the joys, the

dangers, the celebrations, and the gifts that go along with being family.

And things will not go smoothly for the Holy Family either. I hate to give away the story, but according to Matthew’s gospel, King Herod finds out a child is born who is to be the King of the Jews. And Herod decides another king running around town would be destabilizing to his political dynasty. So, he seeks to kill the baby Jesus.

But the family flees to Egypt as refugees, and they were gone when ICE, I mean Herod comes looking.

Herod, in a rage, killed every male child under the age of 2 he could find. We’ll hear that story in worship after Christmas.

The Holy family knew all about the violence of the world.

If you’re wondering where God is in the midst of these tragedies that are sadly too common in our world, remember God chose to become a child, who would be at risk to the dangers of this world. How can this be?

God is not removed from such tragedy, but is in the midst of the dangers of life. So, when pundits and tv preachers try to say that these things happen because we supposedly kicked God out of our public schools, or let trans kids play volleyball, or other such nonsense, remember the incarnation.

Remember that God chose to become one of us. I’ve said it before, but until these people on TV who claim to speak for Jesus start listening to me, it appears I have to say it again.

The God who chose to become flesh and dwell among us is always standing with the vulnerable and is never celebrating the cruel.

But Mary doesn’t quite know where this journey will take her. All she knows is life will not be the same after this news from the angel.

Remember the line from the poem at the start of worship? When the angel said:

For the space

of a breath

I paused,

unwilling to disturb

her last ordinary moment,

knowing that the next step

would cleave her life,

that this day

would slice her story

in two,

dividing all the days before

from all the ones

to come.

Mary pauses for a moment on the journey, to look back and realize her childhood is gone, the world of

Seventeen Magazine, being on the cross-country team, and going to dances at the high school is behind her now.

And before the angel leaves, she asks him a question. How can this be?

The angel said to her, ‘The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born* will be holy; he will be called Son of God. 36 And now, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son; and this is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren. 37 For nothing will be impossible with God. 38 Then Mary said, Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word. Then the angel departed from her.

Other people in scripture talk back to angels. Sarah laughs when an angel tells her she’ll give birth in her old age. Moses tells the voice in the burning bush why it has chosen the wrong person to lead God’s people. Zechariah, John the Baptist’s father, asks for proof and is silenced for nine months. I think Mary is the one person in scripture where the angel takes the question at face value and doesn’t get annoyed. She gets an honest answer.

God takes Mary seriously. In her selection as the mother of Jesus. In her questions. In her assent. God doesn’t choose Mary because she’s young and won’t talk back and ask questions. God chooses Mary because God knows she will ask the right questions.

How can this be?

Reverend Ginger Gaines-Cirelli [1] says this about Mary:

What strikes me is how radical it is that Luke centers the agency of a young woman. Not her virtue. Not merely her purity. Her AGENCY—her capacity to interpret, to question, to consent, to partner with God in the redemption of the world. Luke makes it clear: God honors Mary's mind. God honors Mary's questions. God honors Mary’s agency. And God waits for her consent.

And here’s where it becomes necessary—and pastoral—to name something. We are living in a time when many cultural and religious voices are doing the opposite. Some movements—newly energized, others as old as patriarchy itself—insist women should be silent, subordinate, “covered,” restricted, or excluded from leadership.

Some churches teach girls that obedience is more important than wisdom, that submission is holier than selfhood, that a woman’s voice should be quiet even when the Spirit is speaking through her. And double or triple all of that if the woman is Black, brown, or trans.

But the Gospel does not support the shrinking of women’s humanity.

Luke tells us that a young woman interprets God s revelation more ably than a priest. Luke tells us that God entrusts the incarnation to a woman fully capable of discernment. Luke tells us that the salvation of the world depends on a woman who speaks, questions, evaluates, consents—and then leads the way.

It is in this context that we get Mary’s song, the Magnificat, which is Latin for “magnify”, as in the beginning of her song. “My soul magnifies the Lord…”

This song of Mary reminds us of other songs by other women in scripture. Hannah at the temple after the birth of Samuel. Miriam after the defeat of the Egyptians at the Red Sea. The song begins with praise for blessings received. Even in the midst of an unplanned pregnancy, Mary searches for her blessings.

But she doesn’t stop there.

She goes on to make claims about God. And the claims she makes suggests she realizes there are

implications for more than just her when God comes to earth as the child of a teenage girl from Nazareth. “God has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; God has filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away empty.”

And as far as we can tell, in either the text or in our world, Mary is speaking of things that haven’t quite

happened yet. Powerful people still seem to be on their thrones. The lowly still seem to be low. The hungry are still going to the food banks and, the rich are not quite empty.

As Christians, we are a people of hope. Hope that the promises God made to Israel have been fulfilled in

Christ’s birth and will be fulfilled in Christ’s return.

So, we live in hope that our work together as God’s people will make Mary’s song true for the people in our community, for the families afraid of our lawless immigration policies, for the hungry people worried about cuts to food programs.

Mary’s magnificat is like the passage we heard from the prophet Isaiah, which suggests that Mary knew her scriptures, that she understood the complicated way God works in the world.

Isaiah says,

Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened,

and the ears of the deaf unstopped;

then the lame shall leap like a deer,

and the tongue of the speechless sing for joy.

Like Isaiah, Mary understands that we must proclaim the world we want to live in before we have lived in it. We must point people to something beyond the despair we see on the news. Because the King Herods of the world want us to give up, to think it is all too much and there is nothing we can do. They want us to see their hatred and violence as signs of strength and not recognize it as proof of their weakness and fear.

Mary’s magnificat posed no actual threat to Herod. She wasn’t a member of congress who could

investigate his corruption. She wasn’t a billionaire donor to his campaign who could stop funding his cruelty. And yet, her song was a real threat to him, dangerous enough for Herod to murder all the children he could find who might grow up one day to become the king of the Jews.

Because the magnificat calls people back to the holy purpose of imagination, of remembering a world we haven’t yet fully inhabited but one we know is possible. And nothing is more dangerous to tyrants than our imagination and hope. Nothing upends them more than our joy in the face of their cruelty.

I love this line from the magnificat: God has scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts.

That’s what joy does. Joy scatters the proud in the imagination of their hearts. Joy comforts and inspires the weak, sparking the imagination of their hearts too.

And that joy wells up in our souls when we remember that the pain and sorrow in this world do not have to control our imaginations. The joy that welled up in Mary, in the midst of the uncertainties of her journey, allowed her to imagine a magnificent song.

This is joy Sunday, the day of Advent we remind each other of this truth. God is present with us. God is being born for us again, a babe in a manger.

There is joy in the world because of this. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

We, as God’s children, have the gift and responsibility of making JOY, complete with its longing, incarnate to the world around us. In the midst of our busy preparations for Christmas, may we pause to be on the lookout for the presence of wonder, that we may imagine the world Mary sings of in her song.

[1] https://www.facebook.com/ginger.gainescirelli/posts/pfbid02XAu8LcQ9GZtg2

Sermon 12.07.2025: Tis the Season for Repentance - fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la!

Sun, 07 Dec 2025 17:47:31 GMT

Repentance is part of the work of preparation – and both activities have individual and collective elements. As crowds come to John for baptism, their repentance becomes a community event. Preparing the path of God also requires communities to engage in peace, love, and justice.

Advent 2025: Soon and Very Soon

Scripture

Matthew 3:1-12

In those days John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness of Judea, proclaiming, 2 ‘Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.’* 3 This is the one of whom the prophet Isaiah spoke when he said,

‘The voice of one crying out in the wilderness:

“Prepare the way of the Lord,

make his paths straight.” ’

4 Now John wore clothing of camel’s hair with a leather belt around his waist, and his food was locusts and wild honey. 5 Then the people of Jerusalem and all Judea were going out to him, and all the region along the Jordan, 6 and they were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins.

7 But when he saw many Pharisees and Sadducees coming for baptism, he said to them, ‘You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? 8 Bear fruit worthy of repentance. 9 Do not presume to say to yourselves, “We have Abraham as our ancestor”; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham. 10 Even now the axe is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.

11 ‘I baptize you with* water for repentance, but one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize you with* the Holy Spirit and fire. 12 His winnowing-fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing-floor and will gather his wheat into the granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.’

Sermon

I am of the firm opinion that we need less Santas and more John the Baptists during the holiday season. Forget the red suit and jolly “Ho! Ho! Ho!s” I want people dressed up in camel’s hair and yelling, “REPENT, you brood of vipers!”

Now, that’s the way to prepare for Christmas! Isaiah foretold it, and John the Baptist came and fulfilled it. That word “repent,” though, is fraught with centuries of misinterpretation and negative connotation.

Now, I know that I may seem to you like a classic Presbyterian – I was baptized in the Presbyterian Church, my parents and their parents were Presbyterians. But part of my faith formation, as a Korean American child of immigrants, was that we were part of a very ecumenical Korean church consortium in Houston. So, if the Korean Methodist church had a VBS, we would sign up. If the Korean Catholic church had a retreat, we might join them. And if the Korean Baptist church down the street was holding a revival, we would go.

And it was precisely there, that I found my love of repentance. Again and again, throughout my youth, I

would give my life to Jesus at every altar call. I would think of all the ways I had sinned and failed as a

wretched human being. I would recall every mean thought and deed I had committed in all my twelve

years of life, and just in case the last time didn’t stick, I’d go up to the front of the church, repent of my

ways, and get saved yet again.

Honestly, it felt good, cathartic, a big relief. It became like a high I would chase. I had what many ex-evangelicals call “salvation anxiety,” that’s when you’re a little obsessed with making sure that you’ve fully repented of all your wrongs, so that your ticket to heaven is never in jeopardy.

My theology has evolved a bit since then—thanks to the grace of God and amazing people who patiently loved and challenged me.

Sadly, though, many of those pastors preaching at those revivals still hold onto that same kind of faith—you know, the “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God” type.

Oftentimes, these preachers were manipulating our young emotions, fears, and guilt, so that they could feel like they were doing kingdom work. While some of them probably did have the best of intentions, I imagine others wanted to stroke their egos, thinking something like: “Look at all these vulnerable teenagers crying and begging for forgiveness. Truly, I am a man of God!” (And, yes, 100% of the time, these revival speakers were men.)

I’m quite certain that many of them saw themselves in the great line of John the Baptists and other prophets and preachers, calling for repentance and saving souls for Jesus.

But is that what John the Baptist was doing? Is that what he meant by repent?

You see, most of us think that repentance means feeling sorry for what we’ve done wrong. But it means so much more than that.

Randy Loubier is an author and theologian who recently tackled this complicated word “repent” in his

Substack (or online journal) [1] . He writes, “Jesus didn’t call people to feel sorry for sin — He called them to see God differently.”

The Greek word for repent is metanoia , which literally means “a change of mind or to think differently.” In Hebrew the word is shuv , meaning, to turn. Repentance, then, is a turning of our minds, hearts, bodies, and souls to the ways of God.

When we sing, “The world is about to turn…” we sing of repentance. But we sing of repentance in a way

that we don’t ordinarily think of when we hear that word.

Loubier writes:

…Jesus didn’t lead with moral repentance. He didn’t walk up to the woman caught in adultery and

say, “You need to admit you’re a sinner….”

He didn’t tell Zacchaeus,

“Confess your greed before you climb down from that tree.”

He didn’t tell the Samaritan woman,

“Say the sinner’s prayer and [then] give me a drink.” …

Jesus never told [people] they were going to hell for personal sin;

He told them they were invited into life.

He didn’t shame the lost—He sought them.

He didn’t condemn the guilty—He forgave them.

That’s repentance as metanoia. It’s a change of perspective so profound that your direction, [your

entire life even] shifts.

When Jesus said, “Repent and believe the Gospel,” He wasn’t saying, “Feel bad because you’re

sinful.” He was saying, “Open your eyes [ and your hearts and minds]! [For] God’s Kingdom has

arrived right in front of you. [So] Don’t miss it!”

It was an invitation, not an accusation.

His message to the everyday [person] wasn’t, “You’ve failed.” It was, “Look up! Heaven is invading

earth!”

“Repent,” then, means to change how [we experience] reality. [We must] stop living like God is far

away. Turn [away] from fear, shame, anxiety, and unbelief—

and see that [God] has come close. [2]

Emmanuel, after all, means God with us.

In today’s scripture, John the Baptist has that very same invitation for those seeking to be baptized in the Jordan. The Israelites had to cross the Jordan river before becoming a people, God’s people. And so John takes them back to where it all began, that body of water that forged them into a community that belonged to God.

And his invitation to baptism was an invitation to new life and a new way of being, a metanoia, a

repentance, an invitation to change how we see and experience God, and a turning from the ways of the world towards the ways of God.

John the Baptist, however, also had an accusation, but it is saved only for the religious leaders, calling them a “Brood of Vipers” for the ways they manipulate and prey on the vulnerable.

Perhaps these leaders have used repentance as a weapon or tool for manipulation. Perhaps they have not shared the good news but instead scared the people into obedience. Whatever the reason, John the Baptist does not approve. He even wishes they had not come to the Jordan for baptism!

And yet, even they have the opportunity to repent and turn towards God, to have a change of heart and mind about the way they think about God, and about they way they think about their ministry as religious leaders. Even they are invited to new life and a new way of being in the world.

So, no one is beyond redemption. No one falls outside of God’s grace, even if we might be reluctant to

offer it. And that is the good news of the gospel.

Loubier says: “Repentance is wonder, not woe, and repentance [is an] Invitation to joy.” [3]

I would add to that that repentance is the gateway to peace. Our spiritual ancestors in the Reformed

Tradition, who designed our worship services, understood this.

In our bulletins, you’ll see that we start worship with singing and a hymn. And early on, there is also a Prayer of Confession, followed by an Assurance of Pardon, a Gloria, and then The Peace.

The Presbyterian Directory for Worship, which is part of the church’s constitution, says: “This turn from

communal praise to corporate confession, established on the promise of God’s grace, is one of the

hallmarks of the Reformed tradition.” [4]

As Presbyterians within the Reformed tradition, we don’t go to Confession with a priest like our Catholic siblings do; we rarely hold revivals with altar calls, but each Sunday, we come together and confess together our corporate and individual sin.

The Directory for Worship continues to say: “As members of Christ’s body, we confess the reality of sin,

captivity, and brokenness in personal and common life and ask for God’s saving grace. A declaration of

forgiveness proclaims the good news of God’s mercy and offers the assurance of pardon in Jesus’ name.” [5] Then, and only then, are we able to pass the peace with one another. Because repentance is the gateway to peace.

Once we have turned away from sin and turned towards God, once we have honestly faced who we are

and our own brokenness, once we have asked for forgiveness, and been forgiven, then, the peace of Christ which surpasses all understanding is ours to give and share with one another.

Where there is no justice, there is no peace, right? And how can there be justice without repentance?

True repentance leads us to peace. True repentance turns us towards the ways of peace. True repentance reorients us to Christ’s peace.

And this is the season when we light candles for peace. So may peace reign in our hearts. May peace

cease the warring of nations. May peace be for all peoples in all places as we turn back to God in true

repentance.

And so we sing, asking our Emmanuel to come and fill the whole world with heaven’s peace.

May it be so, Amen.

[1] https://randyloubier1.substack.com/p/maybe-weve-got-repent-wrong?utm_source=post-emailtitle&

publication_id=5356843&post_id=178017503&utm_campaign=email-posttitle&

isFreemail=true&r=8r1h7&triedRedirect=true&utm_medium=email

[2] Ibid.
[3] Ibid.

[4] The Book of Order, Directory for Worship: W-3.0205.

[5] Ibid.

Sermon 11.30.2025: God's Eminent Imminence: Keep Awake!

Sun, 30 Nov 2025 23:29:51 GMT

“Rejoice, rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel.” But when? There is no holy itinerary for God’s arrival — no day or hour, no platform or gate. In Matthew 24, Jesus teaches us that if we want to live good and meaningful lives, we must keep awake: stay alert, attentive, expectant. God’s ever-dawning presence is always on the verge.

Advent 2025: Soon and Very Soon

Scripture

Isaiah 2:1-5

The word that Isaiah son of Amoz saw concerning Judah and Jerusalem. In days to come the mountain of the Lord’s house shall be established as the highest of the mountains, and shall be raised above the hills; all the nations shall stream to it. Many peoples shall come and say, “Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of the God of Jacob; that he may teach us his ways and that we may walk in his paths.” For out of Zion shall go forth instruction, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem. He shall judge between the nations, and shall arbitrate for many peoples; they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more. O house of Jacob, come, let us walk in the light of the Lord!

Matthew 24:36-44.

[Jesus said,] “But about that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. For as the days of Noah were, so will be the coming of the Son of Man. For as in those days before the flood they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, until the day Noah entered the ark, and they knew nothing until the flood came and swept them all away, so too will be the coming of the Son of Man.

Then two will be in the field; one will be taken and one will be left. Two women will be grinding meal together; one will be taken and one will be left. Keep awake therefore, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming.

But understand this: if the owner of the house had known in what part of the night the thief was coming, he would have stayed awake and would not have let his house be broken into. Therefore you also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour."

Sermon

Keep Awake

“Keep awake, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming.” Sounds ominous. As if God were a

thief in the night—ready to surprise us with a pop test, a snap judgment. But this isn’t a passage about fear at all. It’s about awareness. About staying present. About being fully alive to how God shows up in this world.

Advent: Imminent, Eminent, Immanent [3]

I know from experience—and many committee meetings—that Presbyterians love parsing words, so here goes: imminent, eminent and immanent.
1) Imminent means something that is about out to happen. It’s

soon and very soon. It’s close. It’s almost here. Example: Christmas is imminent.

2) Eminent means something exalted, lifted up, outstanding. Marci preached an eminent sermon last Sunday, and today it’s some guy named Victor. But there is yet another word—“immanent”—spelled differently but pronounced the same, and not in my title today.
3) Immanent means inherent, an essential characteristic. Used to describe God, immanent indicates the image of God “present within”. God is part of our original human operating systems. Divinity is immanent. Jesus’ words today are about all three. God’s coming is imminent —closer than we think. God’s reign is eminent —rising above the chaos of our world. And God’s presence is immanent —within and among us, in-between every cell, every breath, every body. All three are appropriate and important words to define Advent. [4]

As in the Days of Noah

So when Jesus says, “Keep awake,” he’s not telling us to fear; he’s calling us to notice the oncoming nature of God in present time—God’s Eminent Imminence. Jesus recalls the days of Noah: “They were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage…until the flood came.” It’s like how my Aunt Gretna used to scold her fourth-grade class by saying, “It’s all fun and games…until someone loses an eye!” Both statements are warnings against mindless, reckless behavior. In the days of Noah, the original danger wasn’t the flood—it was reckless indifference. The people chose to ignore what was happening right in front of them.

Happy Anniversary

Tomorrow is our anniversary, you and me. Twelve years ago, Lou and I stood before this congregation,

introduced as the Rev. Victor Floyd and his husband Lou Grosso—the first out minister hired at Calvary with eyes open. We arrived not knowing what would unfold. but we kept awake to possibility. And although it won’t be recognized by our government, tomorrow is also World Aids Day. I shared my HIV status with you a few years back, and you responded with empathy and a flood of memories of friends and neighbors you still grieve. It’s important for me as a minister to come out again and again. Representation is important, and it’s often exhausting.

Universities are currently being extorted into cancelling their queer students. [5] And with the elimination of international US AID programs, the current administration let 1.6 million of God’s children die annually of AIDS. [6] Were I the president responsible for those numbers, I’d try to ignore World Aids Day, too. But this bad news is not the end. Jesus Christ is the alpha and the omega, the beginning and the end. God’s love is on the way. God’s coming is now. And over these twelve years, you have taught this man again and again what it means to keep awake— to hope, to do justice, to watch what God will do through the people.

Nice People

I’m from northwest Georgia. In the South, calling somebody “nice” is about a good a compliment as you can get. Oh, I don’t know them that well, but they sure seem nice. And the way his wife dresses, so nice. Her hair looks so nice, in the front. But nice is, well, just nice. It’s meh. It’s fine. It’s okay. I love San Francisco, because here “being nice” ain’t quite normal. We tend to unveil more than nice. Sometimes we reveal too much, but you know where you stand.

Ugly Things, Like Politics

Writer Naomi Shulman’s mother was born in 1934, Munich. She watched her neighbors disappear, and how nobody stood up for them, nobody had enough gumption to do the right thing. Shulman concludes by saying:

Nice people made the best Nazis. My mom grew up next to them. They got along,

refused to make waves, looked the other way when things got ugly and focused

on happier things than “politics.” They were lovely people who turned their heads

as their neighbors were dragged away. You know who weren’t nice people?

Resisters. [7]

Anybody here ever read Night by Elie Wiesel? The Diary of Anne Frank ? Watched Schindler’s List ? Perhaps you wondered how you might react had you been there in 1930s Germany. My friends, we are all answering that question right now, in real time. This world teeters on the brink—political violence, hatred dressed up as religious piety, democracy strained to its limits, wars waged in our names. It’s tempting to look away, to scroll past, as in the time of Noah. But Jesus says: Don ’ t sleepwalk through this moment. The flood of suffering around us is a call to awaken, to recognize God’s heartbreak over this world’s trouble. All of this is on loan from God. How we tend it is a sacred obligation, our duty—as Abraham Davenport put it.

“The Time is Always Right…” [8]

Advent is about waiting— but only for the sufficient amount to time. Let the waiting be over whenever God arrives, and the kingdom of God is always arriving, imminent i n every act of courage, in every gesture of love that refuses the mistake of waiting too long. Now is the time to show up for our neighbors under attack. Now is the time to stand with leaders who dare to go against the emperor. Now is the time speak up for all the cities that losing autonomy, all the universities and teachers who are sold into silence, all of the LGBTQ people who are being intimidated back into the closet. Now is the time when we have to decide. Or will we play nice and let our lives be determined by a very small group of wealthy men who think they’re better than the rest of us?

Notice Wonder

Jesus comes to teach us a new way of seeing: how everything is infused with divine presence. And how, through faith, God only increases with time. Keep awake. See the world as the angel told Mary. The poor are filled with good things, the rich are empty, the mighty are dethroned, the lowly realize their worth—an upside down and inside out world is on the way. This kind of awakening reorders everything—family, power, control. Richard Rohr calls the coming of Christ a “betrayal of the prevailing institutions” [9] for the sake of a deeper vision: the rebirth of Divinity, within and among us.

And friends, that reign doesn’t wait for the end days—it erupts in every moment love breaks through fear, when mercy interrupts violence, when a gay pastor stands in a pulpit and says, “This, too, is God ’ s beloved body.” Yours is God’s beloved body.

Celebration: Hope

Hope says, I see the unraveling of this world as it is—and I still believe God will win. Twelve years of grace and challenge, laughter and so many griefs and losses. I’ve seen in this community what it means to keep awake—to show up at rallies, to deliver casseroles to new parents, to pray with our whole lives.

Keep awake—not out of fear, but out of wonder.

Keep awake—to the God who comes in your neighbor’s need.

Keep awake—to the Spirit stirring in your own becoming.

Keep awake—to the Christ who is not only eminent and imminent in all the spellings —within us, among us, and breaking into the world again and again through us. When we live like that—then every moment becomes a special occasion, a feast day. Every table an altar. Every act of courage, every word of love, a sign that the reign of God is with us.

In the name of Jesus, amen.

[3] Dictionary discussion. <https://www.merriam-webster.com/grammar/eminent-imminent-immanent-difference-usage>

[4] Advent means “arrival.”

[5] < https://www.cbsnews.com/chicago/news/northwestern-university-trump-administration-settlement-antisemitisminvestigation/>

[6] < https://www.hiv.gov/hiv-basics/overview/data-and-trends/global-statistics#:~:text=86% knew their HIV status,Central

Europe and North America.>

[7] < https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/8201162-nice-people-made-the-best-nazis-my-mom-grew-up>

[8] … to do the right thing.” a quote from Martin Luther King, Jr.

[9] Center for Action and Contemplation, Richard Rohr, “Leading Us to Somewhere New” November 2, 2025 <

https://cac.org/daily-meditations/leading-us-somewhere-new/#:~:text=In his teachings, and in,a radical transformation of

consciousness.>

Sermon 11.23.2025: Sheep Without a Shepherd

Sun, 23 Nov 2025 20:12:31 GMT

The Bible has a tendency to compare us to sheep. In the 23rd Psalm, it is a good comparison because God is the shepherd and God's pretty good at the shepherding business, leading us to still waters. The prophet Jeremiah reminds us that sometimes human shepherds let God's flock down. How can we be helpful shepherds, filled with compassion for God’s flock?

Scripture

Jeremiah 23:1-6

Woe to the shepherds who destroy and scatter the sheep of my pasture! says the Lord. Therefore, thus says the Lord, the God of Israel, concerning the shepherds who shepherd my people: It is you who have scattered my flock, and have driven them away, and you have not attended to them. So I will attend to you for your evil doings, says the Lord. Then I myself will gather the remnant of my flock out of all the lands where I have driven them, and I will bring them back to their fold, and they shall be fruitful and multiply. I will raise up shepherds over them who will shepherd them, and they shall not fear any longer, or be dismayed, nor shall any be missing, says the Lord.

The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will raise up for David a righteous Branch, and he shall reign as king and deal wisely, and shall execute justice and righteousness in the land. In his days Judah will be saved and Israel will live in safety. And this is the name by which he will be called: ‘The Lord is our righteousness.’

Sermon

Today is Reign of Christ Sunday. We used to call it Christ the King Sunday, because every so often we humans forget how oppressive and terrible kings can be. And then people come along and remind us.

Lifting up the image of Jesus as king is different than some human wanna be kings we might be thinking of, but it is still an image that carries with it economic and political inequality. It is an image that uses “divine right” as an excuse for all sorts of abuse.

It is worth considering what we mean when we say “Jesus is Lord”, or “Christ is King”. Language can be multivalent and carry many different understandings, and so we extricate our understandings of the words from the oppressive use, without abandoning them entirely, making sure our language and our theology are not at odds. To say Christ is King is not to say he lives in a gold palace that was funded by economic exploitation of the people he claims to serve. It isn’t about pageantry, ballrooms, and displays of power designed to separate him from the people he serves.

When we say Christ is King, we acknowledge that our one allegiance is to God and not to any human king. We acknowledge that there is no place, in life or in death, where God is absent or unconcerned. We live in God’s realm, God’s kingdom, where the entirety of our lives are of importance to God. And our work is to point people to a different way of being than we hear of from earthly kings.

Our call as Christians is to help the world imagine a better way of being—a world where we care for our neighbors, where we share our abundance to build a stronger community, where we trust in the goodness of God that allows us to live in hope and not fear.

Reign of Christ Sunday is also the last day of the Liturgical calendar, the culmination of the story that is told throughout the Christian year. Next week our church calendar begins again, as we enter Advent, the time of preparation for the birth of Jesus at Christmas.

And one of the images we get today, on Christ the King Sunday, is that of shepherd. It is a very different image than Christ the Military General, or Christ the Prime Minister, President, or Dictator. Christ the Shepherd depicts a king who guides, who watches out for the flock, who cares for the weak and searches for the lost.

We find comfort in the 23rd psalm, which has the lovely imagery of “he makes me lie down by still waters”, where goodness and mercy follow us all the days of our lives and our cups runneth over. Even if we weren’t raised on a farm, we can probably see the ‘Lord as our shepherd’ as a safe and comforting image.

Jeremiah’s passage reminds us, however, that when we shepherd each other, we do a less than perfect job of it. While God does and will continue to raise up good shepherds for the flock, there will always be the shepherds who are being addressed here.

“Woe to you who destroy and scatter the sheep of my pasture….”

Bad shepherds—people who are entrusted with the care of God’s children and end up hurting them, dividing them, and leaving them victim to the predators who lurk on the hillsides of our lives, are not a new phenomena. Jeremiah’s world had them too.

What is our call as Christians to respond to the bad shepherds? Jeremiah is not silent about their abuse. We often are.

Sometimes silence is our response because we don’t know what to do.

Sometimes it is our response because we don’t think it is our issue to address.

Sometimes it is our response because we are busy, and tired, and distracted by other things.

But then I think about sheep, and how the biblical stories continue to compare us to them. And I look at the pain in the world and see us running around as proverbial sheep without shepherds, and I see how the silence of well-meaning people contributes to the harm.

When we see sheep in need of help, and we sit there on the hillside, thinking “well, those sheep are in another flock. Not my problem”, are we being like Jeremiah’s bad shepherds?

Jeremiah calls out this terrible behavior when he sees it. He doesn’t sit silently when he sees bad behavior because he recognizes silence is complicity. And there are costs to Jeremiah when he speaks out. He is beaten. He is imprisoned. He is sent to Egypt with other exiles.

Jeremiah doesn’t like being the guy who is always saying the things that will get him in trouble. In chapter 20 he says,

If I say, ‘I will not mention God, or speak any more in his name’,

then within me there is something like a burning fire

shut up in my bones;

I am weary with holding it in,

and I cannot.’

Our silence might keep us out of trouble in the short term, but the long-term price of our silence is high.

Today after worship, I’ll be talking about my trip to Berlin this summer to study Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the 20th Century German theologian who was murdered for his opposition to fascism and the Nazi party. One quote from him has

stayed with me, in particular. He wrote:

“Peace is confused with safety. But there is no way to peace on the way to safety.”

I think we mistake silence for peace too. And there is no way to peace if you’re on the path of silence.

This past week, the President of the United States insulted two female reporters who had the temerity to ask him questions. ABC reporter Mary Bruce asked him and the Saudi crown prince about the murder of fellow journalist Jamal Khashoggi. Intelligence sources solidly connect the Saudi crown prince to the murder of Khashoggi. Think of the courage it takes to ask the man who murdered your colleague about that murder. And here’s part of what President Trump said in reply, after he said, “things happen”, as justification for Khashoggi’s death.

“It’s not the question that I mind; it’s your attitude. I think you are a terrible reporter. It’s the way you ask these questions…You’re a terrible person and a terrible reporter.”

The next day, when Bloomberg reporter Catherine Lucey tried to ask why he had not yet released the Epstein files, he said, “Quiet! Quiet, piggy.”

I trust we can all agree that the president’s behavior is unacceptable and not the kind of sexism, bullying, and callous cruelty we want to see from our elected leaders.

But the part of it that upset me the most was the silence by the other reporters and elected leaders present when it happened. He took questions from other reporters after he’d said each of those terrible things. The only question that should have been asked of him after those displays was “What in the world did you just say to our colleague? We’ll return to our questions after you apologize to her.”

By their silence, he was given the message that it is okay to demean women who ask questions.

Jeremiah reminds us to call out terrible behavior, even when it may seem impolite, or maybe not our place. Woe to the shepherds who destroy and scatter the sheep of my pasture! says the Lord.

We cannot be silent. And we have been quiet for too long while our neighbors are being harmed.

Jeremiah is not just a grouchy person who likes to pass judgment on God’s behalf, although he is that … he is also the bearer of good news. The point of his critique is to bring people back to God’s vision for the world. And he promises that God will raise up shepherds who will deal justly with the people so they will not have to fear, and will not be dismayed, and will not get lost.

What we speak into the silence has to be good news for the people.

The gospel passage assigned for today’s reading tells the story of Zechariah. He will be the father of John the Baptist, but before that he was a priest in the Temple. And in an encounter with an angel in church one day, what he speaks to the angel is of doubts and concerns. “How will I know this is true?”, he asks. The angel’s response is to silence him. He leaves church that day and cannot speak a word for nine months.

Listen to these words from the 1st chapter of Luke’s gospel:

On the eighth day they came to circumcise the child, and they were going to name him Zechariah after his father. But his mother said, No; he is to be called John.’ They said to her, None of your relatives has this name.’ Then they began motioning to his father to find out what name he wanted to give him. He asked for a writing-tablet and wrote, His name is John. And all of them were amazed. Immediately his mouth was opened and his tongue freed, and he began to speak, praising God.

Then his father Zechariah was filled with the Holy Spirit and spoke this prophecy:

Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for God has looked favorably on his people and redeemed them. The Lord has raised up a mighty savior for us in the house of his servant David, as he spoke through the mouth of his holy prophets from of old, that we would be saved from our enemies and from the hand of all who hate us. Thus God has shown the mercy promised to our ancestors, and has remembered his holy covenant, the oath that they swore to our ancestor Abraham, to grant us that we, being rescued from the hands of our enemies, might serve the Lord without fear, in holiness and righteousness before him all our days.

And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High; for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways, to give knowledge of salvation to his people by the forgiveness of their sins. By the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.”

Zechariah finally gets his voice back when he acknowledges his wife was correct (let it be noted) and verifies that this child is to be called John, as the angel said, even though everyone else thought his name should be Zechariah Junior. And after supporting his wife, the next thing he speaks out of his silence is a word of hope for the world. He points the world toward Jesus, which is what John his son will grow up to do.

Both Zechariah and Jeremiah’s prophecies call us to create a world better than the world of fear, division, and cruelty that we see on the news. They call us to speak out against injustice so we can guide our feet into the way of peace. In Jesus, we see how God was dreaming for a leader for God’s people. And it does not look like we expected it to look. It is not military strength or political posturing. It is being present with people and standing with them in the midst of the worries and troubles of their lives. When Christ is King, he looks like a shepherd, gathering the lost sheep and caring for

the flock.

In Jesus, we recognize the fulfillment of Jeremiah’s prophecy and in his life we see how not to be bad shepherds, but faithful ones.

How can we be helpful shepherds, filled with compassion for God’s flock? And I mean that quite literally. How are we going to care for the sheep?

And it can’t only be silent prayer from the sidelines, although that is important too. I think about the times in my life where I was facing struggle and I never knew what people meant when they said, “I’m praying for you”. That can mean a lot of things. And when prayer happens in silence, you never know where you stand.

When prayer happens in conjunction with action, though, you feel the love and support of the prayer.

The people who have been shepherds to me in my distress were not silent people.

They were shepherds who stood next to me with their rod and their staff to comfort me.

They were shepherds who prepared a feast for me, or at least took me out to lunch or brought a casserole to my home after I’d had surgery.

They were shepherds who made me lie down in green pastures when I was overwhelmed and exhausted.

They were shepherds who advocated on my behalf and called me back to right paths for his name’s sake.

While their actions were not always loud, they were never silent. I knew they were with me, and for me, and that I was not alone.

Even when we feel weary, when the job seems to never end, when the needs of the community seem like a bottomless well that we can never fill, we are still called to have compassion for the world, because they are like sheep without a shepherd. And they need to know we are with them and for them, because God is with and for them, and that they are not alone.

I invite you to be a good sheep, and be led by the still waters to have your soul restored. And then we’ll come back together to be good shepherds and have compassion on the crowd. Because friends, the good news is that no matter how crazy this world is, we are not sheep without a shepherd. We have a shepherd in Jesus who will never forsake his

flock and who is with us through it all.

Thanks be to God. Amen.

Sermon 11.16.2025: Will Justice Roll Down or Trickle Down?

Sun, 16 Nov 2025 23:03:04 GMT

Amos was a small-town shepherd when God called him to be a prophet for justice. This relatively unknown "nobody" spoke boldly to those in power, railing against their policies and systems that favored profit over people. Join Amos on his quest for a fair and equitable society where justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.

Scripture

Amos 1:1-2; 5:14-15, 21-24

The words of Amos, who was among the shepherds of Tekoa, which he saw concerning Israel in the days of King Uzziah of Judah and in the days of King Jeroboam son of Joash of Israel, two years before the earthquake.

And he said: The Lord roars from Zion, and utters his voice from Jerusalem;

the pastures of the shepherds wither, and the top of Carmel dries up.

Seek good and not evil, that you may live;

and so the Lord, the God of hosts, will be with you, just as you have said.

Hate evil and love good and establish justice in the gate;

it may be that the Lord, the God of hosts, will be gracious to the remnant of Joseph.

I hate, I despise your festivals, and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies.

Even though you offer me your burnt-offerings and grain-offerings, I will not accept them;

and the offerings of well-being of your fatted animals I will not look upon.

Take away from me the noise of your songs; I will not listen to the melody of your harps.

But let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.

Sermon

If we were to ask Amos, “What’s more important, doing justice or going to worship, what do you think Amos would say?”

Scripture leaves very little to the imagination. After all, he says: “I hate, I despise your festivals, and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies… But let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.” Amos wants justice. And Amos argues, it’s not him who wants justice; it’s actually God! More than good music; more than a great choir; more than our hymns or beautifully crafted prayers; God wants us to do justice in the world.

For Amos, if we have to choose between worship and justice, there is no contest. It’s justice every time. But what’s interesting to me, is that I don’t think it’s an either/or situation, or even a both/and situation. Because for Amos, you cannot worship God unless you are also doing justice. One does not exist without the other. Well, to be clear, justice can exist without worship.

But worship? It cannot exist without the practice of justice because God will not accept it. Worship without justice is not worship at all.

And so, if we gather here, week to week, in our “solemn assembly” for an hour, but do no justice the other 167 hours of the week? God despises whatever it is we offer here, no matter how good, no matter how excellent, no matter how much. “I loathe it,” some translations say.

And in the book of Amos, the justice that God seeks is specifically economic justice.

Now, I don’t recommend you take financial advice from your pastors, per se. There are other professionals who could probably help you with that more than I could. But the Bible does not shy away from talking about matters of money.

Our scriptures, sometimes in meticulous detail, outline what God envisions as a fair and equitable economy. They tell us God’s hope for how we’ll spend our money; where we’ll give our money (because it is expected that we will give); and by what means we’ll distribute our wealth.

Now, the prophet Amos wasn’t a prophet by birth or trade, it wasn’t his day job, if you will.

Amos actually had land and money and property and wealth! He came from a smaller town in Southern Judah, but he was a businessman.

Verse one of Amos calls him a shepherd, but later on in the book, we learn that he’s not just some hired hand tending to someone else’s flock. He owns the sheep, and he owns the land on which the sheep graze. And this land also has sycamore trees that grow figs, so he’s diversified his portfolio, if you will. Some commentators even compare Amos’s line of work to modern-day agribusiness, like large-scale farming with income coming from multiple sources.

So, in this way, Amos is not quite like Isaiah, or John the Baptist, or other professional prophets, who come from the outside or the margins to critique the wealthy and the powerful. Amos is a businessman, a landed property owner, who has been called by God to speak up in the face of gross wealth inequality.

Even as someone who has and makes money, Amos’s relationship with God makes it impossible for him to stay silent when such great inequalities exist. And what Amos was witnessing in the northern kingdom of Israel was too much the corruption, the exploitation, the oppression.

Now, we know that God sometimes calls people to full-time, vocational ministry. That’s what pastors are. But sometimes God calls prophets from the everyday business and busy-ness of their lives, to speak a word of truth from God into their current context.

That was true for Amos, and I wonder if it is true for some of you. Perhaps God is not asking you to leave your line of work or give up your company to become a minister. But perhaps God is asking you to help those with whom you work, to do so more fairly and justly, to call out practices that harm and advocate for policies that heal. You see, the wealth disparity that was happening in Amos’s day, did not happen by accident. No, rather, the wealthy elite who lived in luxury could do so because they were exploiting the poor. They implemented harsh taxes, and dishonest business practices. They didn’t pay their workers fairly, and they created crushing debt with high interest. The wealthy of Amos’s day came to that wealth and stayed in that wealthy by perpetuating systems of economic injustice.

Amos, however, was relatively successful and wealthy, too, but he was not corrupt or oppressive in his dealings. He was faithful in his worship of God, and he was fair in his dealings of finance.

Amos sought not just for his own flourishing, but the flourishing of all people. And he knew, that the flourishing of others was not a threat to his own well-being. Because as Paul Wellstone from Minnesota used to say: “We all do better when we all do better.”

Amos was a businessman who chose to deal fairly with others, and to practice justice in his day to day life. His goal wasn’t to amass wealth, but to live abundantly. Those are very separate things. Jesus says in John 10:10, “I have come so that they may have life and have it abundantly.”

God wants us to live lives of abundance, but not so at the expense of others’, and not so at the cost of justice. God knows that a truly abundant life includes justice that rolls down like waters and righteousness like an everflowing stream.

Let’s sit with that image for a moment. When have you seen water roll down? Maybe at Yosemite or a waterfall somewhere?

For me, I kept hearing and seeing the water that rolls down at Niagara Falls. Anyone been to Niagara Falls? I only went as a child, but that water rolling down is a whole-body experience.

It’s thunderous and loud, filling your ears. And as the water careens off the side of a cliff, you can hardly see where it lands because so must of it then splashes back up. If you get close enough to it, that mist sprays you, wetting your skin. If you were to stand under it, it would overwhelm you.

Let justice roll down. That’s what God means. Let justice overwhelm us; let justice fill the earth; let justice flow abundantly with no foreseen end. Let justice cover every part of who we are, surrounding us like a force that cannot be ignored and cannot be stopped.

Not once in the Bible, does it say, let justice trickle down. Because something that trickles down, whether it be economics or water, will not get to those who long for it down below.

So, by contrast, have you ever seen water just trickle down? In nature, it can kind of be pretty, maybe. But it’s usually just a great disappointment. Like turning on the shower, only for the water pressure to be extremely weak, drip, drip, drip.

Justice that trickles down is slow, unsatisfying, and frustrating. As Dr. King once said, “justice delayed is justice denied.” So waiting for justice to trickle down is not, in fact, justice at all.

Erin Wathen with some humor and sarcasm reminds us that Jesus didn’t say: “I am the slow trickle of life. All who come to me will probably be thirsty again in like 5 minutes.” [1]

Rather, she says: “Remember that our God is a God of abundant life. Blessings that overflow, peace that rushes like a mighty river, justice that rolls down like water; and we follow Jesus, who is the water of life. There is no trickle about it.”

So to answer the question in today’s sermon title - Will justice roll down or trickle down? It’s roll down.

But I have to admit, as I pondered this passage, I wondered if that was the right image for justice.

I like the image; it’s powerful and poetic. And I know that many people deeply connect with it and are compelled by it. But when have we ever witnessed justice being dispensed from the top down?

Of course, trickle-down justice doesn’t work. But is roll-down justice some unattainable dream, a pie in the sky utopia that can’t exist in our broken world? Because in my experience, people at the top of the waterfall don’t let justice trickle down, let alone roll down. Instead, the water is often dammed and blocked from even getting close to where it could roll down.

Friends, did you know that if you had one trillion dollars, and you decided you would spend one million dollars of that, each and every single day until it runs out, it would take you nearly 3000 years to spend it all. Three thousand years! That’s absurd to me!

So I have hard time imagining a world where justice rolls down. And I know, it’s ultimately rolling down from God, not fallible human beings. But that’s just not how I’ve witnessed the waters of justice flowing. It’s never been top down.

But then, I heard Amy Jill Levine, a Jewish biblical scholar, read this passage using the Revised Jewish Publication Society or JPS translation. And it says this: “But let justice well up like water…” Well up, from the ground up.

And I know it doesn’t have the same kind of oomph as justice that rolls down, but it sure looks much more like the justice I’ve witnessed happening in our time.

It doesn’t come from those at the top but comes from the people. It is a groundswell movement that is demanded not just given. It wells up because it can no longer be contained beneath the earth, and it is grassroots and communal; it is rooted and grounded; it rises from the bottom up.

That’s how justice gets done.

“Let justice well up like water…” It’s powerful to me.

Did you know that people used to believe that redwoods competed for survival? We thought that these trees fought and dominated one another for light and nutrient-rich soil, trying to get the best for themselves while depriving other plants and trees from growing around them.

But we were wrong. Redwoods help one another grow. They champion the flourishing of all those around them. They share the water that is in the ground. And in doing so, they not only survive, but they all flourish and thrive. Amos was not asking the wealthy and powerful of his time to give up their thriving in order for someone else to thrive. He was reminding them of the age-old truth that is written in the DNA of the redwoods.

The truth that says: when we make sure everyone else thrives, then we all can thrive.

So, let us go and do likewise.

Amen.

1 https://www.patheos.com/blogs/irreverin/2017/12/let-gods-blessings-trickle-slowly-stuff-bible-doesnt-say/

Sermon 11.09.2025: Earth, Wind, and Fire

Sun, 09 Nov 2025 00:02:12 GMT

Elijah is a very relatable prophet. He has moments of great faithfulness, and moments where his fear gets in the way and his hope dissolves into despair. How does God respond to Elijah, and to us, in those moments when we forget just how great God's faithfulness really is.

Scripture

1 Kings 19:1-18

Ahab told Jezebel all that Elijah had done, and how he had killed all the prophets with the sword. Then Jezebel sent a messenger to Elijah, saying, “So may the gods do to me, and more also, if I do not make your life like the life of one of them by this time tomorrow.” Then he was afraid; he got up and fled for his life, and came to Beer-sheba, which belongs to Judah; he left his servant there. But he himself went a day’s journey into the wilderness, and came and sat down under a solitary broom tree. He asked that he might die: “It is enough; now, O Lord, take away my life, for I am no better than my ancestors.” Then he lay down under the broom tree and fell asleep. Suddenly an angel touched him and said to him, “Get up and eat.” He looked, and there at his head was a cake baked on hot stones, and a jar of water. He ate and drank, and lay down again. The angel of the Lord came a second time, touched him, and said, “Get up and eat, otherwise the journey will be too much for you.” He got up, and ate and drank; then he went in the strength of that food forty days and forty nights to Horeb the mount of God.

At that place he came to a cave, and spent the night there. Then the word of the Lord came to him, saying, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” He answered, “I have been very zealous for the Lord, the God of hosts; for the Israelites have forsaken your covenant, thrown down your altars, and killed your prophets with the sword. I alone am left, and they are seeking my life, to take it away.” He said, “Go out and stand on the mountain before the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.” Now there was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence. When Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his mantle and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave. Then there came a voice to him that said, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” He answered, “I have been very zealous for the Lord, the God of hosts; for the Israelites have forsaken your covenant, thrown down your altars, and killed your prophets with the sword. I alone am left, and they are seeking my life, to take it away.” Then the Lord said to him, “Go, return on your way to the wilderness of Damascus; when you arrive, you shall anoint Hazael as king over Aram. Also you shall anoint Jehu son of Nimshi as king over Israel; and you shall anoint Elisha son of Shaphat of Abel-meholah as prophet in your place. Whoever escapes from the sword of Hazael, Jehu shall kill; and whoever escapes from the sword of Jehu, Elisha shall kill. Yet I will leave seven thousand in Israel, all the knees that have not bowed to Baal, and every mouth that has not kissed him.”

Sermon

Our text this morning picks up after quite an exciting story. The prophet Elijah takes on the prophets of Ba’al and Asherah, all 850 of them, and challenges them to a scene made for reality TV, a prophet-off , if you will.

Israel has been following false Gods.

A brief History lesson: After King Solomon’s rule, the United Kingdom of Israel collapses, in part because of the bills from building Solomon’s ballroom, I mean the Temple. The Northern Tribes rebelled against the Davidic line and they become Israel in the divided kingdom. The tribes of Judah and Benjamin, in the South, become the nation of Judah. Ahab is king of the Northern kingdom of Israel. His wife, Jezebel, is a foreigner. Their marriage was a political alliance to bring peace on the Phoenician border. She brings with her some of her gods from home, and those gods must have

been appealing, because there are lots of prophets, and the people flocked to these false gods.

Elijah shows up as a prophet of the one, true God and is a thorn in the side of Ahab and Jezebel. They want to silence him, because Elijah’s trying to call the people back to the Lord, away from the lure of the false gods. Ahab and Jezebel trying to keep their political alliance together by promoting the worship of all of the gods. Ahab and Jezebel’s message is: Want to come to church, worship the king, the flag, and money while worshiping the Lord? You can have it all! Join us!

That message was seductive then and it is seductive now.

And Ahab and Jezebel want to kill Elijah. They’ve already killed over a hundred prophets of the Lord.

So, to our reality show.

I’ll let you read chapter 18 in your free time, but here are some highlights—Elijah challenges the prophets of the false gods to a show down. His God against their gods. He even stacks the deck in their favor. And then he mocks them. Then he crushes them. Then he kills them all. Then he flees.

Elijah flees, which, on first glance seems an odd response to the overwhelming victory he had in chapter 18, doesn’t it? Ahab, meanwhile, goes back and tells Jezebel what happened to all of her prophets, which is where our text today picks up.

Elijah knows all about the power of God. He’s just seen it in full and public display.

And yet. He flees. And then he gives up.

“It is enough; now, O LORD, take away my life, for I am no better than my ancestors.”

I can’t decide if Elijah’s humanity here is horribly depressing or comforting.

I’d like to think that if only I could see God’s awesome acts of power, as Elijah did on Mt Carmel, that I’d have faith enough to spare. That’s all I really need, I think. Just one big miracle like the showdown with the false prophets and I’ll be good.

But we’re just a few verses after his moment of triumph, right after he’s won the battle, and Elijah is asking to die because he feels alone. He may not be afraid of false prophets, but he is certainly afraid of Jezebel and Ahab. And, even though he has just seen God put on a resounding display, it doesn’t occur to him that the God who delivered him then will deliver him now.

We are like that too, of course. Miracles are all around us, even in our own lives. And then something happens—Jezebel comes making her threats, and we go blank. A crisis of confidence, that erases what we know to be true and replaces it with panic.

I don’t know why this happened to Elijah. I don’t know why it happens to us. You’d think that the signs and wonders he had seen would have been enough to sustain him. You’d think they’d be enough to always sustain us.

They don’t. Perhaps this text is a reminder to us that signs and wonders, like the show Elijah puts on before the prophets of Baal in the earlier chapter, are not what sustain faith. Community sustains faith. And when we are cut off from each other, there aren’t enough signs and wonders in the world to make up for it.

Perhaps this text is a reminder to us that the voices of this world, the threats of Ahab and Jezebel, are more than mere words. They are often scary enough to cause us to forget what we know to be true. They are often loud enough to drown out the sound of our faith. They are convincing enough to make us lose hope and to give in to despair.

This story catches Elijah when he feels completely alone. Totally isolated. So cut off from other people and maybe even from God that he feels he alone is left. He had also just killed 850 prophets of Ba’al and Asherah. It is possible to imagine how that could make you feel alone and cut off, no matter how much you felt you had done the right thing. Taking human lives is not a trivial matter.

Ahab and Jezebel had also killed hundreds of God’s prophets, Elija‘s colleagues, some of them were probably his friends from seminary and presbytery meetings. There is a lot of death in the background of this text, and when we don’t allow our grief and loss to be at the front of our story when it needs to be, we feel isolated, cut off from people who could help us.

There is a lot of grief and loss in our world too.

When we don t allow our grief and loss to be at the front of our story, we feel isolated, cut off from people who could help us.

I alone am left.

When I hear that phrase from Elijah, I hear it as a confession of defeat and failure. I confess that if I think about it in my own life, though, I am a person who can prize my aloneness, my independence, as if it were a badge of pride.

I alone am left. (Sad trombone)

Or…

I alone am left! Yeah! (Cue the Rocky soundtrack!)

As a child, I was famous for often saying, “I can do it me own self!”

Narrator: she could not, in fact, do it her own self.

Asking for help is the hardest thing I ever do. Accepting help that is offered is a close second. Many years ago, I was leading worship when cold or flu symptoms came on. I’d felt fine that morning, but mid-way through the sermon, I was not fine. I had to sit down to finish the sermon. And then it was communion, and I knew I couldn’t stand at the table and that whatever I had meant I probably shouldn’t be anywhere near the table with my germs, so I asked an elder to come and read the liturgy and preside at communion.

I found someone to take my place at the adult ed class and was going to go home. It felt like I had already inconvenienced enough people by the end of that service. Someone then said they were going to give me a ride home and their spouse would drive my car home for me. I tried to brush them off with “I’ll be fine, you don’t have to stand up when you’re driving” and she demanded my keys and they drove me home, where I slept for 3 days.

I am not proud to tell you that story. I am very grateful for everyone in that story who would not let me go it alone, and for everyone else, at all those other moments of my life who have reminded me that I am not alone with their care, their presence, their bossy refusal to let me go it alone.

I alone am left.

I really am feeling personally attacked by this scripture passage. I like it a lot better when it convicts you than when it convicts me.

Over time, I have learned to accept help when it is offered, and on my better days, I can even sometimes ask for help that hasn’t been offered. I’ve been blessed, throughout my life, with some amazing communities who have cared for me and reminded me I am not alone. My family, my sorority in college, my whole college experience, actually, all the congregations I’ve been a part of—there are too many to name, but all of them have called me away from falling prey to the lie that I alone am left.

Like the angel who shows up when Elijah is asleep under the broom tree, my communities have fed and cared for me so the journey wouldn’t be too much for me.

In bible study, while looking at this passage, my friend and I noticed that when Elijah tells God he is feeling alone, God sends him into the wilderness for 40 more days of being alone.

I’m a person who prefers being ‘in the mix’, and with people, far more than I want to be alone, with only myself for company. Even when I have to do solitary work, such as writing sermons, I do better in the middle of a loud coffee shop than I do in the sheer silence of my empty house.

It’s changing a little for me as I get older. I’m more inclined to decide a day spent by myself is not some sort of divine punishment, but might be a reward.

Even so, the idea of being sent into 40 more days of isolation when I already felt alone? I do not like that plan. And I think many people are afraid of the silence of their own thoughts because maybe we’re afraid of what we’lll find there. Will the inner critic be so loud we can’t drown them out? Will our fears be revealed to be true?

I wonder what God needed Elijah to know, to come to understand, when he was feeling alone. What was it Elijah needed 40 days and 40 nights by himself in the wilderness to work out?

You think you alone are left, Elijah? Okay, have fun in the wilderness!

It gets me twitchy, all of this time in the wilderness, left alone with my own thoughts. In truth, even when I’m by myself, I rarely feel alone. I can text my friends, call someone. I can be distracted by the earthquakes of the news cycle, or the wind of whatever is coming out of Washington, or the fires of personal conflicts or stress.

God draws Elijah away from the tumult and the noise of Jezebel and Ahab and toward the mountain of God. And, after a 40-day journey, he reaches the mountain of God where Moses saw God pass by, and the Earth, Wind and Fire appear. Elijah is told to stand on the mountain as God passes by. But God wasn’t in the noise, destruction, chaos, tumult or flames. God was in the sheer silence that followed.

The text says the Lord was not in the earthquake, or the wind, or the fire.

I don’t think that means God is absent from the earthquakes, wind, and fire that disrupt and trouble our lives. We believe there is nothing in life or in death that could separate us from the love of God.

I wonder if it suggests that if we really want to find God, we can’t get distracted by the actions of politicians and Ahabs and Jezebels, the destruction of human violence, and reach the conclusion that all of the destruction they cause is what God intends.

Elijah, despite his crisis of confidence, is able to recognize God when God appears. And, it seems likely to me, that the silence was not the place Elijah would have first been seeking God.

In the Biblical account, when God appears, God is usually in a burning bush, or a pillar of fire by night or pillar of dust by day. The word for God’s Spirit is the same word for wind. And perhaps we expect God to be flashy. To put on a show. To wow us with laser light shows and displays of grandeur— like God had just done in the prophet —off for Elijah in the previous chapter. We want God to be Earth, Wind, and Fire.

For Elijah at his weakest moment, God is in the absence of noise, asking: “What are you doing here, Elijah?”

I love this question. It can mean so many things.

Why are you here as my prophet, Elijah?

Why are you here—40 days into the wilderness—and not somewhere else?

Why are you here feeling sorry for yourself?

Why are you alone and so far from others who could help you?

Why are you here—on this earth?

Elijah gives the same answer both times the question is asked. Here it is: “I have been very zealous for the LORD, the God of hosts; for the Israelites have forsaken your covenant, thrown down your altars, and killed your prophets with the sword. I alone am left, and they are seeking my life, to take it away.”

I’m not convinced Elijah answers God’s question, yet God seems to see the answer that is hidden in Elijah’s reply— I’m isolated and alone and can’t remember the things that are important.

God offers Elijah grace and gives him the answers he needs. Elijah is given some concrete tasks, he’s told to appoint Jehu king, and Jehu will clean up the political mess. And he is told to appoint Elisha as his successor. Elijah is not alone—on either the political or the spiritual front.

Through sheer silence, God calls him back to his purpose, God gives Elijah answers to the question God was asking him and sends him back to community and back to work—fed, nourished, and equipped for the journey.

It occurred to me this week that even though the answers are the same words, I wonder if the subtext under the words is different at the beginning than it is at the end. If I were directing Elijah in a play, I would have him read the first answer in his most whiny and pathetic voice. “I alone am left. Woe is me” But the second time, after 40 days and nights of being alone, I’d direct him to answer it with the weight of it. “I. Alone. Am. Left.”

Elijah had been doing it all himself. He didn’t take a committee to battle the false prophets. And hadn’t been taking care of himself. And he was distracted by the noise of earthquakes, wind, and fire. And he forgot who he was, and whose he was. At first, he was whining because he was alone and scared and jangly, in need of a nap and a snack. The second time he answers God, I think he was aware that he had isolated himself in the wrong ways, aware the sounds and distractions of the world had gotten in his way.

Thinking about this text has called to mind for me a quote by Corrie Ten Boom, a Dutch Christian and Holocaust survivor, who said, “Never be afraid to trust an unknown future to a known God.” I think that was what God was trying to get Elijah to see during the midst of his crisis of confidence.

As it was for Elijah, the future we cannot imagine can also be a scary place. We don’t know what the future holds.

There are voices all around us telling us to be afraid of just about everything, but the Ahabs and Jezebels of this world are just speculating. They cause real damage, don’t get me wrong. But they are not the ultimate power in the world. They are noise.

And the noise of chaos, tumult, and fear are nothing compared to the sound of God’s sheer silence.

How is it with your soul these days? There’s a lot of earthquake-y stories out there, calling us away from our connections to each other and our connections to God.

Where do you find the silence in the midst of the noise, so that you can hear God?

This week, I had the privilege of waiting outside the ICE building with a family from the presbytery who needed to go to their immigration check-in, and who were rightly afraid to do so. Two mornings this week, I stood there, wearing my clergy collar, and it wasn’t silent on that downtown street. But I was largely silent, because I don’t speak Spanish. I couldn’t solve any of the troubles this family was facing. I couldn’t do or say anything useful. But I could be there. I could offer a smile to the other people in line, remind them they weren’t alone.

That’s where I heard God this week. Not in the chaos of storms caused by our government, or in the flashes of power we see from weak men pretending to be tough. It was in the presence of people who were scared to show up to their hearings, but who also were trying to do the right thing to save their families.

I debated whether or not to even tell this story because I don’t want anyone to think I was doing anything heroic or worthy of praise. There was no risk to me. And lots of other people in this room, let alone in the community, have put themselves on the line in much bigger ways. But if I can use my whiteness, and my privilege, to participate in whatever small way I can so that others know they aren’t alone, I want to do that.

If you want to be there too, accompanying people outside ICE hearings, talk to one of us later. But there are many ways you care for people amidst the earthquakes, winds, and fires of our world. When you volunteer at the Interfaith Food Pantry, when you sign up to serve lunch at Martin de Porres, when you volunteer with youth, or seniors. The list is long and many of them are at the back of your bulletins.

The gift of community, and the lesson that was hard for both me and Elijah to learn, is that we don’t have to do it all by ourselves. If each of us participates in whatever way we’re called to do it, people will be cared for and the journey won’t be too difficult for any of us. Your gifts of time, of presence, of treasure, of talent—they all make a difference in the world. Because we, together, can do exponentially more than any of us can do on our own, all by ourselves. Thank you for your generosity that creates community and that offers care.

We are walking into an unknown future with a known God. The God who has provided for us in the past, is laying out the plans that will guide us through the future. May we learn to be comfortable listening for God—whether it is in the chaos and tumult or in the sheer silence. Friends, never be afraid to trust an unknown future to a known God.

Amen.

Sermon 11.02.2025: Light of the World

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:04:49 GMT

Toward the end of the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus tells his disciples to be the 'salt of the earth' and 'light of the world'.

How is God calling Calvary to be light for the world? Are we being called to illumine dark paths to make people's journeys easier to navigate? Or to shed light in dark corners where hope is hard to find? What might God be dreaming for us, from our perch in the city on the hill?

Scripture

Matthew 5:14-16

You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hidden. No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.

Sermon

Today's passage is shorter than our usual scripture readings. And if you worship here regularly, you may have noticed that we’ve jumped to Matthew, leaving our Narrative Lectionary readings in the Old Testament. We’ll go back there next week, but today is Stewardship Sunday, when we dedicate our pledges for the coming year, and this passage is where the theme— Give Light to the World — originated.

More than that, though, this passage has been coming to mind for me all year as I think about who we are as a church. I’ll get to that in a minute.

This passage is near the end of what we refer to as Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount. It takes place fairly early in his ministry. Jesus has been baptized by John in the Jordan River, then taken to the wilderness where Satan tried to tempt him with worldly power and wealth (probably a crypto scheme). Jesus rebukes the tempter, saying we are to worship God alone, and not wealth or power, and he leaves the wilderness to begin preaching this message: “Repent! For the kingdom of God has come near”.

Jesus calls his disciples and then we’re told “Jesus* went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news* of the kingdom and curing every disease and every sickness among the people. 24So his fame spread throughout all Syria, and they brought to him all the sick, those who were afflicted with various diseases and pains, demoniacs, epileptics, and paralytics, and he cured them. 25And great crowds followed him from Galilee, the Decapolis, Jerusalem, Judea, and from beyond the Jordan.”

And it is at this moment—when Jesus is a rock star, when huge crowds surround him wherever he goes, asking for selfies and autographs, when he’s famous throughout what today we’d call Israel, Palestine, Jordan, Syria, and Lebanon— it is at this moment that he preaches the sermon on the mount, where he talks about how it is the poor in spirit, the meek, those who mourn, those who hunger and thirst for righteousness who are the ones who are blessed, the ones we should be caring for, not the ones we should be reviling.

The Sermon on the Mount was as countercultural then as it is today. We still give honor and accord to wealth and status. We still shame and judge the poor. If you listen to the voices on the news this past week, criticizing the 42 million people in our country who lost access to food support yesterday because of the government shut down, we can see that ‘blessed are the poor’ is not something our elected leaders agree with Jesus about.

I was a child whose family received the SNAP equivalent benefits in the 1970s when my dad went blind and could not work. Getting free lunch at school did not make me a moocher. It fed me so I could learn and grow up to try to be a productive member of society. I am thankful for the support we received. It is both a gift and a duty to offer support for others and to create a world where nobody is hungry.

San Francisco, in a public/private partnership at the leading of the mayor and supervisors, is covering benefits for people in SF for now, but we may yet be called upon as a congregation to offer assistance for our Matthew 25 partners who provide safety net coverage for the most vulnerable in our community. Stay tuned.

Following Jesus and his call to care for others will put us at odds with the world around us that offers tax cuts for billionaires and ballrooms at the White House while children go hungry.

Jesus could have taken his moment of popularity and the adulation of the crowds and used it to preach a sermon for his benefit, offering to sell them autographed bibles or something. Instead, his sermon on the mount lifts up the most vulnerable and calls them blessed.

He tells them the Kingdom of Heaven has come near to them, which means that there are no corners of their lives that are separate from God’s kingdom. To say the Kingdom of Heaven has come near is to say that we can’t separate our Sunday faith from our Monday to Saturday lives. God’s Kingdom has come near to us and the values of God’s Kingdom are where we live each and every day.

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.

Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.

Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.

This is the context for the verses we heard this morning. And I confess that normally, I do not gravitate toward this ‘city on a hill’ business. In my experience, the people who like to throw around that phrase often use it to glorify themselves.

And ’letting your light shine before others’ was not encouraged in my family. I mean, I wasn’t raised to snuff out my light entirely, but I did pick up the idea that it is bad form to shine brighter than other people were shining. And maybe it wasn’t just my family where I picked up the idea that a bushel basket can be a helpful tool to keep your light from being too shiny, too much, too bright, too Marci.

Thanks to therapy and the support of good people, I’m more comfortable now with the idea that my light is better on a lamp stand than it is under a bushel basket, but for most of my life, I’ve been much more comfortable with the earlier part of the sermon on the mount than I was with this idea of shining your light before others. Blessed are those who mourn feels like a more Christian thing to espouse than does telling people to shine their light before others, because our culture uses that phrase to be braggy and boastful.

But here’s the thing.

People need light. We’re like plants. We need water and light to grow. There’s a lot of darkness out in the world right now, big shadows being cast from the spotlights of leaders with fragile egos, and those shadows are hurting and harming people. Food support, access to healthcare, a just immigration process, due process, and so many other things have gone away in less than a year, hurting people who need the support of a government rather than active harm from the government.

People need light. People need light to see hope.

People need God’s light, but when Christian nationalism replaces the gospel, people can’t see any light shining in God’s name.

They see Christianity being used to justify the harming of immigrants and refugees, even though scripture is very clear that immigrants are to be welcomed.

They see Christianity being used to justify so much hatred and cruelty, even though Jesus in Matthew 25 was very clear that whatever we do to the least, and the last and the lost, we have done to Jesus himself.

They see people paying millions of dollars to sit at tables that Jesus would have flipped and overturned.

What if this congregation, in our city on a hill, could really live into the vision of giving light to the world? What if we got rid of our bushel baskets and put that light on lamp stands?

Because people are thirsty for a different message about God than the one they see on the news. That’s why we’re here, right? We’re tired of being gaslit when people with power claim God is exclusive and mean and cruel. We’re desperate for community that gives life and offers support. We’re here because we know of a God of love, and justice, and compassion, and welcome, and mercy. We’re here for both comfort and challenge, that we may find rest and welcome here so we can carry that light with us into the week.

The leaders of this congregation believe we are being called to put our lights onto lampstands so others in our community can see light in God’s name. And when I think of this passage from Matthew’s gospel, I see you.

‘You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hidden. No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.'

Give light to the world is both our giving campaign theme and also a foundational verse about who we are as a congregation.

We speak and live our values, so that others may also know God’s love. As Jesus preached, the kingdom of God has come near and we are called to share that good news with the world.

We serve and enrich our community, because we follow the example of Jesus and we know that however we treat others is how we treat God. We also know that when our community is healthy and cared for, all of us are the beneficiaries. The world gets brighter when other people are safe to shine their lights too.

We gather in this beautiful space the earlier saints of Calvary left for us, so we can experience awe and wonder in music, in worship, in the silence after a prayer. The mundane moments of our lives can be suffused with God’s holy light when we are on the lookout for the presence of wonder in the world. Worship is one of the moments in our week when we train our vision to see God’s awe and wonder in the rest of our lives. Worship is where we refill the oil in our lamps, so our light can keep shining.

We seek to meet God, because we believe God is first seeking to meet us. We also recognize that God is bigger than we can fully comprehend, so we do not confuse our glimpses of God with a full understanding of God. But we worship the God who both created the enormity of the universe and put the stars on their courses in the heavens, and also chose to be born one of us, a vulnerable infant child, in need of care and protection. This is the God we seek. The more light we shine while doing the things God calls us to do, the easier it is to seek God.

We welcome people of all stages of faith —some of us have been in the pews, of this church or another, all of our lives, with a faith that has grown and adapted without much conflict. Others of us have experienced harm in the church, or couldn’t reconcile what we knew of God’s love with the hatred and exclusion we experienced, left religion to save our lives, and are coming back now because God’s call never went away, and over time we were able to hear it again. Wherever we are in our journey of faith is welcome here. If your faith is a 60-watt bulb with a stable power supply, or if your faith is a candle flickering in the gusty winds of the world while you seek to shelter that flame, or if your faith is somewhere in the middle, each and all of those lights are welcome here.

Those are some of the lamp stands on which we put our light, so that God may be glorified, so we can radiate God’s light to the world.

And we need you. When you invite people to join you—maybe for worship, maybe to volunteer, maybe to attend a concert or book event—when you invite people to join you, you radiate God’s light to the world.

We’re about to dedicate our pledges for the 2026 budget year. Your faithful generosity has provided for our ministry in the past. And if every person in this congregation were to make a pledge, of any amount, we’d meet our stewardship goal easily. Thank you to those of you who have already turned in your pledges for the coming year. Thank you to those of you who are prayerfully considering how you can participate. Your gifts and pledges are many more lights on lamp stands that help us radiate God’s love to the world. Thank you for the many ways you shine Christ’s light to the world already. It is such a gift to be your pastor, and in a world of such uncertainty and chaos, I’m so grateful for this congregation in a city on a hill. Keep on shining that light.

Amen.

Sermon 10.26.2025: In the Thick of It

Sun, 26 Oct 2025 02:49:35 GMT

We must learn to let our spirits dance with God, even in the thick of this world’s confusion—with Halloween costumes, deep questions, and all the rest. Come ready for joy, mystery and a holy mash-up where darkness becomes the very place where God does her best work.

Scripture

1 Kings 5:1-5; 8:1-13

5 Now King Hiram of Tyre sent his servants to Solomon when he heard that they had anointed him king in place of his father, for Hiram had always been a friend to David. 2 Solomon sent word to Hiram, saying, 3 “You know that my father David could not build a house for the name of the Lord his God because of the warfare with which his enemies surrounded him, until he[b] put them under the soles of his feet.[c] 4 But now the Lord my God has given me rest on every side; there is neither adversary nor misfortune. 5 So I intend to build a house for the name of the Lord my God, as the Lord said to my father David, ‘Your son, whom I will set on your throne in your place, shall build the house for my name.’

8 Then Solomon assembled the elders of Israel and all the heads of the tribes, the leaders of the ancestral houses of the Israelites, before King Solomon in Jerusalem, to bring up the ark of the covenant of the Lord out of the city of David, which is Zion. 2 All the people of Israel assembled to King Solomon at the festival in the month Ethanim, which is the seventh month. 3 And all the elders of Israel came, and the priests carried the ark. 4 So they brought up the ark of the Lord, the tent of meeting, and all the holy vessels that were in the tent; the priests and the Levites brought them up. 5 King Solomon and all the congregation of Israel, who had assembled before him, were with him before the ark, sacrificing so many sheep and oxen that they could not be counted or numbered. 6 Then the priests brought the ark of the covenant of the Lord to its place, in the inner sanctuary of the house, the most holy place, underneath the wings of the cherubim. 7 For the cherubim spread out their wings over the place of the ark, so that the cherubim made a covering above the ark and its poles. 8 The poles were so long that the ends of the poles were seen from the holy place in front of the inner sanctuary, but they could not be seen from outside; they are there to this day. 9 There was nothing in the ark except the two tablets of stone that Moses had placed there at Horeb, where the Lord made a covenant with the Israelites when they came out of the land of Egypt. 10 And when the priests came out of the holy place, a cloud filled the house of the Lord, 11 so that the priests could not stand to minister because of the cloud, for the glory of the Lord filled the house of the Lord.

12 Then Solomon said,

“The Lord has said that he would dwell in thick darkness.

13 I have built you an exalted house,

a place for you to dwell forever.”

Sermon

The Divine Dark

“God is here in this place —the glory of the Lord is all around and fills this house!” [4] It’s the claim that calls us to worship each week: that we are not alone, that the living God is with us, and that the glory of the Lord doesn’t need perfect conditions but only for us to come together in reliance on the Holy Spirit. God meets us in our need.

Throughout scripture, we get images of God’s glory: a burning bush, a pillar of fire; a choir of angels, a

Bethlehem star. But what happens when glory doesn’t come as light—but as darkness? Not field of flowers, but dark as midnight, thick, heavy.

In today’s readings from 1 Kings, Solomon does build the house of the Lord. It is the product of an arduous process—negotiations with King Hiram, determining the precise placement of stone and cedar and cypress, the hammered gold, the priests processing the ark into the holy of holies, the awestruck congregation praising God. Then, around verse 10, something seems to go wrong. “A cloud filled the house of the Lord…” so that “the priests could not stand to minister because of the cloud…” The priests were incapacitated. But Solomon in his wisdom calmed the people, reminding them how, some 400 years before, God had appeared to Moses in darkness (Exodus 10:22). Solomon knew how, in Deuteronomy 4:11, “You came near and stood at the foot of the mountain while it blazed with fire to the very heavens, with black clouds and deep darkness.” Not in a brilliant stained-glass window, not in an Easter sunrise, but in a murky, undefined theology. Right there, in the thick of it, is where God chooses to dwell.

Into the Darkness

This is a deeply countercultural message for those of us who have been taught to associate the presence of God with light and fabulous success. We’ve been groomed to believe in a fair-skinned, man’s man of a God who grants military victory and blesses hard work with wealth. More recently added to the mistaken tradition: that blessed wealth will lead its holder to deep insight. Is that why people follow the billionaire strongmen who claim to have all the answers—they must be chosen by God? Theirs is worldly glory, the glory of a dominant culture. And worldly wealth the shallowest imitation of God’s glory there is. [5]

But today’s text, and our liturgy this morning, teaches of a different truth, the presence of God. Solomon builds a big shiny gilded temple and God’s presence turns shows up to dim the sheen. God shows up not in the riches and rewards but with presence—deep, divine presence.

God shows up in the blackest midnight. And God is present with us in the thick darkness. Not in sunshine, but in fog. Not with a brilliant light bulb of insight, but in the dusky mystery of not knowing. That’s where God is. The Fog of Now. I need God in the dark fog of 2025, because, let’s be honest, some days it feels like evil is winning. Some days, it’s too much: the slide toward fascism that wraps itself in the flag, the billionaires who change their political stripes with their moods, the cruelty toward immigrants, trans children and the unhoused people of God. The shattering of systems we depend on—education, justice, healthcare, the free press—all are being demolished like the East Wing. I wonder if justice is still possible in a world ordered by profit and might. And some days, I confess, I feel like those priests—unable to stand, incapacitated, old and in the way. The cloud is heavy. And it fills the whole place. But today’s scripture says the cloud is where God is present. Some of God’s best work is done in darkness.

Emmanuel

That means God is in present, in the shelters and the encampments. God is present in detention centers, union halls and Home Depot parking lots. God is present in hospital rooms and morgues, protests and marches. God is present with the underpaid and the overworked. God is present in the mess of it all, in the places that look nothing like a temple—in the places that smell like a stable. God is there — in the thick of it. God is present in the ministry of the Rev. Jorge Bautista [6] and, if not currently present in the masked thug who pepper bombed Rev. Bautista God is certainly present that pepper bomber’s mom. May he answer to someone’s conscious if not his own.

Living Sanctuary

And God is not calling us to build monuments to ourselves but rather to build communities of accountability, to recommit to the ongoing Reformation, and to refuse the violent ways of fascism. God’s presence is not about superiority or approval. Today’s scripture tells us even that God is not a relic for display. God is not a brand to protect. God is a living, breathing presence, unpredictable and with us to the end of the age. [7]

Out and About

And our God is on the move. Back in the meeting tent, God wandered for centuries with the Jews who had been freed from the Narrow Place of Egyptian slavery. Later on, Jesus will wander the Galilee region with fishermen, making his way as an itinerant prophet, always on the move. After that, the

Spirit of Pentecost will breathe life into the church, billowing the Word out into the world. Never static.

Always reforming. On the move. We’re not here in this beautiful space hoping God shows up; we’re here to prepare ourselves to go out into the world, and follow God, moving and dancing the thick of it. The dark cloud is the fullness of God’s presence.

So then, let’s reform what church is. The church is not a citadel for the saintly. Please don’t come to church if you’re already perfect. (Been there. Exhausting.) The church is the gathering place for sinners and for people who desire more meaning. Worried about not being good enough? My friend, the Rev. Mitulski would tell you, “Every saint has a past, every sinner a future!” There are no perfect people in the kingdom of God.

Later on, when we sing “A Mighty Fortress is Our God” [8] , let’s reclaim the radical resolve of Martin Luther. Let the dark clouds come. Bring ‘em on. We will not be scared into submission. We will not shrink from the mystery of serving God. We will not wait for the smoke to settle before following Jesus. We will not sit in silence while injustice shoots peaceful protestors. God is in those clouds of pepper spray.

The glory of God fills this house and makes it more than a building. God’s glory lives in the murkiness of you and me. We are the Body of Christ, all of us together with the Holy Spirit. Our salvation [9] is at hand. Amen.

4 Over the past weeks, we have been using Teri Peterson’s litanies for the Narrative Lectionary, in association with the Bible Worm Podcast. <https://www.biblewormpodcast.com/> (October 11, 2025)

5 Psalm 146; Matthew 19:15-22.

6 <https://www.sfchronicle.com/bayarea/article/priest-coast-guard-protest-pepper-ball-21118268.php>

7 Matthew 28:20

8 < https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Mighty_Fortress_Is_Our_God>

9 Being “all together with the Holy Spirit” is the Early Church’s definition of salvation.

Sermon 10.19.2025: Leadership from the Heart

Sun, 19 Oct 2025 20:25:30 GMT

In an age of rising nationalism and executive power that feeds on our fear so it can take over, God offers us a new orientation. God looks to our hearts to guide our actions in the world.

Scripture

1 Samuel 15:34-35, 16:1-13

Then Samuel went to Ramah; and Saul went up to his house in Gibeah of Saul. Samuel did not see Saul again until the day of his death, but Samuel grieved over Saul. And the Lord was sorry that he had made Saul king over Israel.

The Lord said to Samuel, “How long will you grieve over Saul? I have rejected him from being king over Israel. Fill your horn with oil and set out; I will send you to Jesse the Bethlehemite, for I have provided for myself a king among his sons.” Samuel said, “How can I go? If Saul hears of it, he will kill me.” And the Lord said, “Take a heifer with you, and say, ‘I have come to sacrifice to the Lord.’ Invite Jesse to the sacrifice, and I will show you what you shall do; and you shall anoint for me the one whom I name to you.” Samuel did what the Lord commanded, and came to Bethlehem. The elders of the city came to meet him trembling, and said, “Do you come peaceably?” He said, “Peaceably; I have come to sacrifice to the Lord; sanctify yourselves and come with me to the sacrifice.” And he sanctified Jesse and his sons and invited them to the sacrifice.

When they came, he looked on Eliab and thought, “Surely the Lord’s anointed is now before the Lord.” But the Lord said to Samuel, “Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature, because I have rejected him; for the Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.” Then Jesse called Abinadab, and made him pass before Samuel. He said, “Neither has the Lord chosen this one.” Then Jesse made Shammah pass by. And he said, “Neither has the Lord chosen this one.” Jesse made seven of his sons pass before Samuel, and Samuel said to Jesse, “The Lord has not chosen any of these.” Samuel said to Jesse, “Are all your sons here?” And he said, “There remains yet the youngest, but he is keeping the sheep.” And Samuel said to Jesse, “Send and bring him; for we will not sit down until he comes here.” He sent and brought him in. Now he was ruddy, and had beautiful eyes, and was handsome. The Lord said, “Rise and anoint him; for this is the one.” Then Samuel took the horn of oil, and anointed him in the presence of his brothers; and the spirit of the Lord came mightily upon David from that day forward. Samuel then set out and went to Ramah.

Sermon

I love a good underdog story, and the call of David is a great one. It isn’t even the only underdog story involving David. In a few chapters, you can read the story of David, the young shepherd, defeating Goliath, the Philistine Giant.

The Underdog Effect is a psychological phenomenon where people are more inclined to support those who are perceived as disadvantaged or less likely to succeed. This doesn’t just happen in sports or competitions; it’s a deep-seated response that influences our behavior in many areas of life.

One article [1] I read about the Underdog Effect said this:

One of the primary drivers of the Underdog Effect is empathy. When we see someone struggling against the odds, it triggers an emotional response in us. We can imagine what it feels like to be in their position, facing overwhelming challenges and fighting to succeed. This sense of shared struggle makes us more likely to support the underdog, as we feel a connection to their plight.

Sympathy also plays a role here. The underdog is often seen as vulnerable or disadvantaged, and this vulnerability can evoke a protective instinct in us. We want to see them succeed because it feels like justice—like the world is righting itself by giving the little guy a fair shot.

It follows that when empathy, sympathy, and justice are frowned on, people stop cheering for underdogs and start supporting the top dogs, giving benefits and adulation to CEOs and big corporations and punishing the ‘little guy’ with regressive policies and scorn.

This effect is even stronger in cultures like ours, where the underdog narrative is woven into our identity—the scrappy group of colonists who fought off King George.

This underdog narrative dominates American culture not only in sports but in all other popular media. From Moneyball to Cinderella, from the Mighty Ducks to Rocky, Americans crave stories about underdogs.

What does this story about Samuel and David say about our preference for the underdog?

Samuel was a prophet. He was offered to God before he was even born, by his mother Hannah, as Joann preached about last week. And as a child, he heard God calling his name and responded with “speak, for your servant is listening”. We‘re told in 1 Sam 3:19, “As Samuel grew up, the Lord was with him and let none of his words fall to the ground."

Isn’t that something?

Samuel became a judge over the people of Israel, traveling in a circuit from Bethel, Gilgal, Mizpah, and Ramah to administer justice to the people and help them to follow God, to serve the Lord, to set aside foreign gods.

He appointed his sons to serve in his cabinet and act as judges as well, but “his sons did not follow in his ways, but turned aside after gain; they took bribes and perverted justice”. (1 Sam 8:3)

So the people clamored for a king, like the other nations had. Samuel saw it as a rejection of him, which is a fair observation on his point, for his sons were pretty bad at judging.

God said, though, it wasn’t about Samuel, it was about God. The people “have not rejected you, but they have rejected me from being king over them."

And so Samuel brings God’s warning to the people. Kings are bad news. A king will conscript their sons to run his chariots, and take their daughters to be cooks and bakers and concubines. A king will take the best of their grain and vineyards and livestock. “And you shall be his slaves. And in that day you will cry out because of your king, whom you have chosen for yourselves; but the Lord will not answer you in that day." (1 Sam 8:18)

Remember that it wasn’t that long ago that God heard Israel crying out under the weight of slavery in Egypt. God is trying to remind them of where they have been to keep them from repeating the past. No kings, says God.

In response to that dire prediction, the people said, “Sounds great! Sign us up! Give us a king!”

This is an ancient story. It is also a modern story, lived out around the world today every time people put their faith in strongmen to save them. When individual boasts seem stronger than institutional structures, people turn to kings, dictators, bullies.

In the story of Israel, they seek a human king in their midst they can adulate and worship, instead of trusting in the God who had already saved them. In this sense, the pursuit of a king is another chapter in the story of idolatry—directing our worship in the wrong direction.

If you don’t know the story of the first king, Saul, it’s worth a read this week. Dynasty, Dallas, Empire, and every other evening soap opera rolled into one. Intrigue! Scandal!

Makes for great ratings. Doesn’t make for an easy path for God’s people. God decides impeachment is an appropriate ending for Saul’s kingship and so he tells Samuel to go pick the next king. I can’t decide if this story reminds me more of some weird reverse beauty pageant, where the sons are paraded across the stage in a swimsuit competition. “I’d give this son a 9.5 for his stature, but looking at his heart, he only gets a 3. Next!”

Which one will God pick?

Or, is it a reverse of that horrible moment on the playground where people are choosing their football teams? Except all of the star quarterbacks and strong safeties are still waiting to be picked when Samuel says, “Isn’t there anyone else? Don’t you have some other sons I can pick?”

Because, inexplicably, Samuel doesn’t seem to want the king that we would elect.

I don’t know why I am surprised by God’s preference for the underdog, when it is the consistent story of scripture.

God chooses the people of Israel to be God’s people, instead of choosing to covenant with a mightier nation like Assyria or Egypt.

God chooses the younger sons, from Abel to Isaac to Jacob to Joseph—on down the line.

God chooses to be born in a barn instead of a palace.

And the son, Jesus, consistently invites people to dinner who would not make our lists.

Samuel was surprised by this too, which makes me feel a little better about my consistent surprise.

And it makes me want to be the underdog. I want to be David, the unlikely yet plucky hero of one of God s narratives.

After you heard this story, did anyone wish to be Eliab? No, we all want to be David.

Once, after I preached this text, I had thought my sermon was pretty good. Decent, at least.

Until.

At lunch after worship, my teenaged son Alden said, “Mom, your sermon missed the point.”

“Ok. Tell me more”, I said, with some trepidation, wondering whose idea it had been to have children.

“In America, we aren’t like David. We’re more like Jesse’s other sons—the ones who were rejected when God was looking for someone to anoint. We're the ones with the power and privilege that first born sons have, using all the planet’s resources. We should be looking for the anointed ones in the people who are out tending the proverbial sheep.”

I went to my bible and wrote his observation down in the margin of 1 Sam 16, so I’d be sure to remember it the next time I preached this story.

I don’t remember the rest of the conversation from that day, but I suspect it also involved Elliott pointing out that youngest sons are clearly the best and most deserving of anointing.

And then there likely was brotherly violence.

On reflection, “brotherly violence” may be a fair subtitle for many of the stories in scripture. I suspect there was some brotherly violence that didn’t get written down in David’s story when they got home and his humiliated older brothers got their revenge.

Humans are a complicated lot. We claim the status of underdog while we benefit from being the top dog. Nobody wants to be Eliab the eldest brother. We want to be David, the sheep herder.

We see ourselves as underdogs even as we’re dominating other people.

We complain about the demands of climate accords, upset about the emissions of other countries, even as we create far more emissions per capita than other countries.

Politicians with all political power, the wealth they’ve accumulated in office, and with a press corps writing down everything they want to say pretend to be the underdog, complaining that their opponents are silencing them, keeping them from legislative success even when they hold a majority.

In our country, clearly one of the most powerful countries in the world, we act like underdogs, claiming to be under threat from foreigners to such a degree that we are zip tying children and grandmothers as we arrest anyone who doesn’t fit a racist narrative of what it means to be American.

The US is no longer the underdog, we haven’t been for a long, long time. We’re the top dog—a country with a such a resilient economy and culture that people have been fleeing here for safety and opportunity forever. Do we see ourselves clearly and how much space we take up in the world?

I confess, as I was working on underdog illustrations, I could come up with a million illustrations of other people not getting it. I had a really hard time coming up with an illustration of me not getting it. I’m sure there are plenty of them out there, and my kids likely know them all, but my brain doesn’t keep a file of the times I’m the top dog.

Maybe we feel like underdogs because we can always find someone out there who is richer than we are, or more successful, or whose “height and stature” makes us feel more like a shepherd boy and less like the successful CEO older brother type.

Do we, as a congregation, see ourselves as underdogs? With our resources, from our beautiful sanctuary in Pacific Heights, I suspect that as a congregation, we’re rarely the underdogs. Are we aware of our privilege? Are we using it for the benefit of the underdogs?

The Lord looks on David’s heart, and sees a faithful heart, a heart that recognizes the values humans admire are not the ones needed when facing impossible tasks. A heart that will rely on God is, I think, what God wanted to lift up in the new king.

When we look at people’s hearts, and not their bank accounts, the car they drive, or the clothes they wear, it stops our ability to compare our lives to theirs. It blurs the image we hold of what makes someone successful. It makes it impossible to see ourselves as the underdog when we see each other’s hearts.

To look at people’s hearts, we have to get past the outer surface of people’s lives. We have to put ourselves in places where we have the opportunity to share stories with people who have led different lives, with people who have voted differently than we do, with people who have not had the privileges and opportunities we have had.

How often do we pass by people on the street with only the time to see as mortals see, without taking the time to see how our hearts might be similar?

The Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.

David’s heart is, as We’ll discover, a complicated thing. At the beginning of his story, he’s the underdog, the youngest son out tending sheep.

For much of the rest of David’s story, he’s large and in charge—not the boy anointed by Samuel. He’s the king of Israel. The one we look at to remember the “glory days” of Israel. It’s from his family tree that Jesus claims kingship.

David loves God. He writes beautiful psalms. Those are the good parts of David’s heart.

In the darker moments of his heart, David “takes” other men’s wives, adding more women’s voices to the refrain of “me too” that echo through history, reminding us that harassment and assault are an ancient story.

When David’s children join the narrative, we discover he is not father of the year, which is the nicest thing I can say about his parenting.

I wonder if that later David ever really acknowledged his privilege and his power? Or if he always saw himself as the young shepherd, anointed by Samuel, the plucky underdog?

David is a complicated man, showing us the best and worst of humanity. One of his many psalms is the one we’ll use later in worship.

Create in me a clean heart, O God. And renew a right spirit within me.

Friends, we live in a world where we’ve mastered the art of seeing each other only as mortals see, leading to much discord and animus. We categorize people by their behavior. In other words, instead of saying “a man who is unhoused”, we say “did you see the homeless on the corner?”

People lose their humanity when we reduce them to labels of “he’s an illegal”, or “she’s evil”. Even if the labels are good ones, they don’t capture all of our complexity.

When we see people as mortals see them, instead of looking at their hearts as God does, we lose our ability to see nuance and complication and connection.

I had an interaction this week that reminded me of this. I had posted something on social media about how bad it was for political leaders, or anyone, really, to be making jokes about the Holocaust, as if gas chambers would be appropriate for political opponents. I can’t believe we have to point that out, but here we are. And I connected it to our faith, because these same people who were sending ‘funny’ texts about Hitler and the Holocaust also claim to be Christian.

And I got a message from a friend I met when I traveled in the Middle East when I was in seminary. He’s conservative Southern Baptist. Back when we knew each other, he didn’t think women should be pastors. I didn’t think young men should be so confident in their pronouncements. But we somehow became friends and I enjoyed spending time with him on our travels.

I know we don’t agree on much. He used to try to talk me out of being in favor of women’s reproductive rights. I never tried to talk him out of anything because I don’t have that kind of time and it never works when he tries it with me, so why bother? We had lost touch over the years.

And then I saw a message from him on Facebook, and I was hesitant to open it. I didn’t want this friend to say things that would make it hard for us to continue to see each other as friends. I didn’t want to fight. I didn’t want to have to defend my views. When I opened the message, though, he thanked me for my post and he agreed that divisive rhetoric is unchristian, that we have to engage across differences in a more respectful way. He and I don’t agree on a lot but we agree on that completely. When we see each other’s hearts, as God does, we have a path through the disagreements into meaningful connection that we don’t get when we see people as mortals do.

When we volunteer with our Matthew 25 partners, we are given an opportunity to see past the complicating details of a person’s present reality to see them as fellow humans in need of care, with hearts beating like ours, with hopes and dreams and challenges and struggles.

God saw David by looking at David’s heart, a heart that was good and bad in equal measure, a heart that returned to God for a clean-up and renewal. The mysterious decisions of God challenge us to believe that we, too, are called and anointed to particular service because God can see our heart. And to also believe that God can call and anoint people we don’t even notice, or people we noticed just long enough to reduce to a label.

The moral of this story is not to have the most perfectest heart anyone has ever had. God doesn’t call us to perfection—that would just be another way of seeing as mortals see. God also doesn’t turn away from our failings, pretending they aren’t there.

God calls us for our hearts. Hearts that beat with life and joy. Hearts that work for justice. Hearts that are broken open for love and loss . Hearts that get dirty and then washed in God’s mercy to be clean, so we can try again, greet another day, and go honestly into our complicated world, forgiving of ourselves and of each other.

Let us bring our hearts to this work of faith and community, seeing each other as God sees us. Caring for each other as God cares for us. Whether you see yourself as top dog or underdog, if you look for the hearts of others, and tend to your heart, you will have a heart that relies on God.

Amen.

1 https://psychotricks.com/underdog-effect

Sermon 10.12.2025: Say My Name, Say My Name - Part 2

Sun, 12 Oct 2025 18:57:12 GMT

Perhaps it was destiny, child, that Samuel heard God's voice calling his name in the night. God called him during a time when "The word of the Lord was rare" and "visions were not widespread." We live in similar times.

In "Say My Name, Say My Name" Part 1, we learned God's name.

In "Say My Name, Say My Name" Part 2, we learn that God knows us by name. In spite of all the noise in this world, can we hear God calling us by name? When God calls, are we ready to say, "Here I am"?

Scripture

1 Samuel 3:1-21

Now the boy Samuel was ministering to the Lord under Eli. The word of the Lord was rare in those days; visions were not widespread.

At that time Eli, whose eyesight had begun to grow dim so that he could not see, was lying down in his room; the lamp of God had not yet gone out, and Samuel was lying down in the temple of the Lord, where the ark of God was. Then the Lord called, ‘Samuel! Samuel!’ and he said, ‘Here I am!’ and ran to Eli, and said, ‘Here I am, for you called me.’ But he said, ‘I did not call; lie down again.’ So he went and lay down. The Lord called again, ‘Samuel!’ Samuel got up and went to Eli, and said, ‘Here I am, for you called me.’ But he said, ‘I did not call, my son; lie down again.’ Now Samuel did not yet know the Lord, and the word of the Lord had not yet been revealed to him. The Lord called Samuel again, a third time. And he got up and went to Eli, and said, ‘Here I am, for you called me.’ Then Eli perceived that the Lord was calling the boy. Therefore Eli said to Samuel, ‘Go, lie down; and if he calls you, you shall say, “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.” ’ So Samuel went and lay down in his place.

Now the Lord came and stood there, calling as before, ‘Samuel! Samuel!’ And Samuel said, ‘Speak, for your servant is listening.’ Then the Lord said to Samuel, ‘See, I am about to do something in Israel that will make both ears of anyone who hears of it tingle. On that day I will fulfil against Eli all that I have spoken concerning his house, from beginning to end. For I have told him that I am about to punish his house for ever, for the iniquity that he knew, because his sons were blaspheming God, and he did not restrain them. Therefore I swear to the house of Eli that the iniquity of Eli’s house shall not be expiated by sacrifice or offering for ever.’

Samuel lay there until morning; then he opened the doors of the house of the Lord. Samuel was afraid to tell the vision to Eli. But Eli called Samuel and said, ‘Samuel, my son.’ He said, ‘Here I am.’ Eli said, ‘What was it that he told you? Do not hide it from me. May God do so to you and more also, if you hide anything from me of all that he told you.’ So Samuel told him everything and hid nothing from him. Then he said, ‘It is the Lord; let him do what seems good to him.’

As Samuel grew up, the Lord was with him and let none of his words fall to the ground. And all Israel from Dan to Beer-sheba knew that Samuel was a trustworthy prophet of the Lord. The Lord continued to appear at Shiloh, for the Lord revealed himself to Samuel at Shiloh by the word of the Lord.

Sermon

The prophet Samuel is the one who transitions the Hebrew people from a more dispersed rule by the judges to a more centralized rule by a monarchy. Samuel will go on to anoint Israel’s very first king, King Saul. And then to anoint Israel’s most famous king, King David.

To lead a people through a time of political unrest and transition is no small task. But Samuel is up to that task. Today’s story, however, takes place before all this happens. Samuel is just a young boy, learning from his mentor, Eli, in the temple when he is called by God.

Call stories in scripture are fascinating to me. They give us insight into the heroes and ancestors of our faith. They give us insight into God and how God chooses to work in the world.

Two weeks ago, Victor preached on Exodus and the call of Moses. In that story, God shows up as a burning bush, calling Moses by name, and Moses, at first, says, “No, thank you. You’ve probably got the wrong guy.”

Samuel’s call story is different. And so we learn that there is no one way that God calls us, and there is no one way people respond. The undeniable truth found in all these stories, however, is that God does, indeed, call us.

Now, it would be a stretch to say that God needs us. God delights in us. God created us. God loves us. But God doesn’t need us. If God can create the world by speaking, God doesn’t need us to do God’s work, right?

And yet, God still chooses to be in relationship with us. God still chooses to use broken and imperfect beings like us to do God’s work in this world.

Once upon a time, God called me to this odd and wondrous calling, as a pastor. I resonate with Samuel because he didn’t recognize that it was God calling him at first. He thinks it’s Eli. And it isn’t until Eli tells him that it’s probably God that Samuel is able to hear what God has to say.

My own call into ministry was like that. I didn’t go to seminary because I heard the voice of God calling me in the middle of the night and immediately understood what I was to do. I went to seminary because I wanted to quit law school, and starting another graduate program felt better than just dropping out. And I went to seminary

because my mentor, Pastor Shawn, saw a call on my life that I did not yet recognize. He was my Eli, understanding God’s call on my life before I even could.

My call to ministry was much more external , other people helping me understand God’s voice, rather than hearing it for myself. Eventually, that call that others saw in me was internalized, and I heard it, too. But it took a long while, and a lot of other people, helping affirm, that yes, this was God calling!

Friends, God calls each and every one of you, too, maybe not to be a pastor, but to be fully you and to do what only you can do in this world.

You are called. And here’s the thing. God does call us. But there are so many reasons why we don’t respond, so many reasons why we might not hear and why we might not answer.

Sometimes, we mistake the calling—because how could it possibly be God? Like Samuel, we live in those days when the word of the Lord is rare, and visions are not widespread. So we think, it can’t be God. And we explain it away.

Other times, we simply don’t even hear God’s call. Maybe, we’re fast asleep and not woke enough. Sleep is comfortable; sleep is safe. So why wake up and face a scary world with strange voices calling our name in the middle of the night?

Or, we don’t hear, because even though we’re awake, every waking moment is filled with noise. We live in a restless, noisy world. We live in a world where we can be constantly connected to the news, to the lives of the rich and famous, to whatever video or argument we want to hear, whatever song or program we want to watch.

Our lives are bombarded with constant chatter, more information and more noise than ever before in the history of the humanity! So if we do not hear God, it may be because that still, small voice, cannot be heard over the loud drums of war, the constant screeching of pundits and politicians, or the broken cries of the oppressed. We

do not hear God’s voice, though God is calling us.

And, then there are the times when we hear God’s voice or experience God’s call but ignore it.

How often do we think, “Okay—that’s probably God,” but choose to walk away, don’t make eye contact, am I right?

There’s actually Hebrew midrash about Moses’s call story that says, that the burning bush had been aflame for a long time, long before Moses even got there. And it was there, available for so many others to experience God’s call. But it was Moses who chose not to ignore it, and instead to stop and wonder. As such, it was Moses who was

called.

How many times has the presence of God, the call of God, been made known to us, only to have us ignore it altogether? What burning bushes have we walked right past because, well, the sheep need tending, and who really has time to see what that’s about? Sometimes, we ignore God’s call.

And then, there are times, when it’s not an accident that we miss God’s call. Instead, we deliberately choose to turn the other way.

There’s biblical precedence for that response, too. Remember Jonah? Jonah got swallowed up by a whale because he didn’t wanna listen to God! Instead of going to Ninevah where God called him; he boarded a ship going the opposite way. In the end, the whale spit him out in Nineveh any way.

Friends, be assured, God is calling you. But we don’t always hear, and we don’t always listen.

Let us give thanks, then, that God also does not give up. God called for Samuel four different times in one night! God doesn’t give up on us; God doesn’t say, “Oh well, I tried.” No. God is persistent and calls us again and again.

And God places people and a community in our lives, so that we can better hear God’s call for us. That’s one of the reasons why the church is so important. We help each other discern one another’s gifts and the call God puts on our lives. And sometimes the church helps us discern what is not for us, too.

As a Presbyterian-flavored Christian, I couldn’t say, on my own, “Hmm… I feel like being a pastor today,” and then ordain myself and start a church all on my own. There may be some traditions where you could do that, but it’s rare. Instead, there is a whole call process that involves a local congregation, the presbytery, and then another church willing to ordain you into a shared ministry.

And sure, the process can be misused and misguided; it has been, in fact. But the intention is that we hear God’s call best in and through community.

So, how will you listen for God’s call in your life this week? Will you wake up to notice what’s happening in the world? Will you turn down the noise and the distractions that keep God’s call at bay? Will you pay attention and stop to notice, wonder, and listen?

Frederick Buechner says that, “The place God calls you to is the place where your deepest gladness and the world's deepest hunger meet."

And you can be called by God, without becoming a minister or leaving your current job; although that’s not out of the realm of possibility, it’s also not necessary. God calls us to all types of work and to all types of ministry. You may be called to be a reporter and the coordinator of pack-a-sack. You may be called to be a lawyer and a youth leader. You may be called to be an inflatable frog, protesting at an ICE building in Portland. Like I said, God calls us to all types of work and to all types of ministry.

The mission and ministry fair two weeks ago was one way we hoped you’d hear and answer God’s call. There will be more opportunities to learn about and sign up to serve. Perhaps, the announcements in your bulletin might be another way. Perhaps today’s adult education presentation from Raphael House will call to you in surprising

ways.

In a few moments, we have a special minute for ministry from Joel Burrill, who heads the Churchwide Nominating Committee. Perhaps, God is calling you to be an elder, a deacon, or a trustee. Now, remember, we don’t get to just say, “God told me I should be an elder!” and then you just become one.

We are called in community and for community and through community. So sometimes the community discerns maybe that’s just not the right fit for you or the right time for the church.

But let us be people who listen, who hear, who discern, and who say, “Speak, Lord! For your servant is listening.” And then to respond, “Here I am.”

Today, we have the great joy of welcoming new members. These members have answered God’s call to join a local church community, in which to participate, give back, and grow in faith and relationships. And we’re lucky that they found Calvary. Their statements of faith on Tuesday were so moving.

Thank you, new members, for hearing God’s call and saying, “Here I am.” Thank you for answering God’s call to community.

Friends, God is calling you, all of you. And the world needs you. Because the world is hurting. And it needs us to show up and do our part for its repair. So do not turn away.

Amen.

Sermon 10.05.2025: The Manna Season

Sun, 05 Oct 2025 18:29:08 GMT

This story from Exodus 16 contains one of the best-known miracles in the Old Testament/Hebrew Bible: when Moses and the people have no food to eat in the wilderness, God sends the miracle of manna to be their daily bread. The people eat that manna for the next forty years, as God sustains them throughout their wilderness journey. What might manna look like for us, when we find ourselves in our own wilderness seasons?

Scripture

Exodus 16:1-21, 35

The whole congregation of the Israelites set out from Elim; and Israel came to the wilderness of Sin, which is between Elim and Sinai, on the fifteenth day of the second month after they had departed from the land of Egypt. The whole congregation of the Israelites complained against Moses and Aaron in the wilderness. The Israelites said to them, “If only we had died by the hand of the Lord in the land of Egypt, when we sat by the fleshpots and ate our fill of bread; for you have brought us out into this wilderness to kill this whole assembly with hunger.” Then the Lord said to Moses, “I am going to rain bread from heaven for you, and each day the people shall go out and gather enough for that day. In that way I will test them, whether they will follow my instruction or not. On the sixth day, when they prepare what they bring in, it will be twice as much as they gather on other days.” So Moses and Aaron said to all the Israelites, “In the evening you shall know that it was the Lord who brought you out of the land of Egypt, and in the morning you shall see the glory of the Lord, because he has heard your complaining against the Lord. For what are we, that you complain against us?” And Moses said, “When the Lord gives you meat to eat in the evening and your fill of bread in the morning, because the Lord has heard the complaining that you utter against him—what are we? Your complaining is not against us but against the Lord.” Then Moses said to Aaron, “Say to the whole congregation of the Israelites, ‘Draw near to the Lord, for he has heard your complaining.’” And as Aaron spoke to the whole congregation of the Israelites, they looked toward the wilderness, and the glory of the Lord appeared in the cloud. The Lord spoke to Moses and said, “I have heard the complaining of the Israelites; say to them, ‘At twilight you shall eat meat, and in the morning you shall have your fill of bread; then you shall know that I am the Lord your God.’”

In the evening quails came up and covered the camp; and in the morning there was a layer of dew around the camp. When the layer of dew lifted, there on the surface of the wilderness was a fine flaky substance, as fine as frost on the ground. When the Israelites saw it, they said to one another, “What is it?” For they did not know what it was. Moses said to them, “It is the bread that the Lord has given you to eat. This is what the Lord has commanded: ‘Gather as much of it as each of you needs, an omer to a person according to the number of persons, all providing for those in their own tents.’” The Israelites did so, some gathering more, some less. But when they measured it with an omer, those who gathered much had nothing over, and those who gathered little had no shortage; they gathered as much as each of them needed. And Moses said to them, “Let no one leave any of it over until morning.” But they did not listen to Moses; some left part of it until morning, and it bred worms and became foul. And Moses was angry with them. Morning by morning they gathered it, as much as each needed; but when the sun grew hot, it melted.

The Israelites ate manna forty years, until they came to a habitable land; they ate manna, until they came to the border of the land of Canaan.

Sermon

Please watch the video posted above, thank you!

Sermon 09.28.2025: Say My Name, Say My Name

Sun, 28 Sep 2025 21:28:08 GMT

Perhaps it was destiny, child, that drew Moses toward that burning bush. There he learns God's name. Let's remove everything that separates us from holy ground and listen together for a new divine revelation.

Scripture

Exodus 2:23-25; 3:1-15; 4:10-17

2:23-25

23 After a long time the king of Egypt died. The Israelites groaned under their slavery and cried out. Their cry for help rose up to God from their slavery. 24 God heard their groaning, and God remembered his covenant with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. 25 God looked upon the Israelites, and God took notice of them.

3:1-15

Moses was keeping the flock of his father-in-law Jethro, the priest of Midian; he led his flock beyond the wilderness and came to Mount Horeb,[a] the mountain of God. 2 There the angel of the Lord appeared to him in a flame of fire out of a bush; he looked, and the bush was blazing, yet it was not consumed. 3 Then Moses said, “I must turn aside and look at this great sight and see why the bush is not burned up.” 4 When the Lord saw that he had turned aside to see, God called to him out of the bush, “Moses, Moses!” And he said, “Here I am.” 5 Then he said, “Come no closer! Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.” 6 He said further, “I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.” And Moses hid his face, for he was afraid to look at God.

7 Then the Lord said, “I have observed the misery of my people who are in Egypt; I have heard their cry on account of their taskmasters. Indeed, I know their sufferings, 8 and I have come down to deliver them from the Egyptians and to bring them up out of that land to a good and spacious land, to a land flowing with milk and honey, to the country of the Canaanites, the Hittites, the Amorites, the Perizzites, the Hivites, and the Jebusites. 9 The cry of the Israelites has now come to me; I have also seen how the Egyptians oppress them. 10 Now go, I am sending you to Pharaoh to bring my people, the Israelites, out of Egypt.” 11 But Moses said to God, “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?” 12 He said, “I will be with you, and this shall be the sign for you that it is I who sent you: when you have brought the people out of Egypt, you shall serve God on this mountain.”

13 But Moses said to God, “If I come to the Israelites and say to them, ‘The God of your ancestors has sent me to you,’ and they ask me, ‘What is his name?’ what shall I say to them?” 14 God said to Moses, “I am who I am.”[b] He said further, “Thus you shall say to the Israelites, ‘I am has sent me to you.’ ” 15 God also said to Moses, “Thus you shall say to the Israelites, ‘The Lord,[c] the God of your ancestors, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, has sent me to you’:

This is my name forever,

and this my title for all generations.

4:10-17

10 But Moses said to the Lord, “O my Lord, I have never been eloquent, neither in the past nor even now that you have spoken to your servant, but I am slow of speech and slow of tongue.” 11 Then the Lord said to him, “Who gives speech to mortals? Who makes them mute or deaf, seeing or blind? Is it not I, the Lord? 12 Now go, and I will be with your mouth and teach you what you are to speak.” 13 But he said, “O my Lord, please send someone else.” 14 Then the anger of the Lord was kindled against Moses, and he said, “What of your brother Aaron, the Levite? I know that he can speak well; even now he is coming out to meet you, and when he sees you his heart will be glad. 15 You shall speak to him and put the words in his mouth, and I will be with your mouth and with his mouth and will teach you what you shall do. 16 He indeed shall speak for you to the people; he shall serve as a mouth for you, and you shall serve as God for him. 17 Take in your hand this staff, with which you shall perform the signs.”

Sermon

Then and Now

Many parts of the Bible that are just not relatable. A talking snake? An ark that was a floating zoo? What on earth could a 3000-year-old story about a burning bush have to say to a 21st-century congregation of good-looking, well-educated people? These stories are removed from our experience. But when these stories begin to break open into something that grabs us, watch out. They become relevant and require our immediate attention.

Exodus 2:23b-25

The Israelites groaned under their slavery and cried out. Their cry for help rose up to God from their slavery. God heard their groaning, and God remembered his covenant with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. God looked upon the Israelites, and God took notice of them.

Four verbs teach us a lot.
1) God hears us pleading.
2) God remembers the promises of the covenant,
3) God sees this world, and
4) God takes notice. We are held in a Divine Mind that hears, remembers, sees and notices. God hears/remembers/sees/notices what the pharaoh had rather keep hidden. God doesn’t explain away our pain but gets involved in it.

Enter Moses, not quite at home anywhere, not exactly who he once was, not yet who he’s going to be. Moses is haunted by his past, unsure of his place in the world. Something so human about him—vulnerable, insecure.

Out there in the desert trying to keep some sheep alive, actively not looking for God. Then, the mystery kicks in. It matters that the story of freedom ^[4] begins here—not with strength, but with groaning. Not with action, but with the simple act of turning aside and paying attention. This is how change begins.

Between Then and Now

Even as we read this ancient story, there are people crying out under the weight of empire and modern day pharaohs. The groaning has not stopped. We are living in a time when whole communities—children, seniors, families—are bombed in Gaza, with nowhere to run. And their cries rise up. We are watching as freedom of speech, of the press, freedom of religion, of peaceful protest is under attack—here, at home. Books banned. Teaches are silenced. Leaders stoke violence not to serve the people, but to enrich themselves. Democracy is under attack.

But there are flashes of hope. Jimmy Kimmel was cancelled by the leader of the free world. The people cried out, cancelled their subscriptions, and the Disney gods took notice and corrected their error. How Kimmel rose to the moment is a lesson in fortitude and grace. ^[5]

Here is the hope I hold: The God of Exodus is alive and well. The same God who heard the Hebrew slaves still listens. The same God who saw their oppression still sees. And the same God who called Moses—uncertain, stammering, murderous Moses—is still calling people to put their faith into action. And that includes you.

Say My Name: The Call and the Question

Had I experienced a burning bush talking to me, I probably would’ve made a video, posted it online and went on my way. But Moses turns aside—and that’s when God says his name. Pause with me here—in the silence between name and response. This is not a throwaway moment. It’s the beginning of everything. There’s power in being called by name—intimacy and dignity. When someone says your name—not your title, not your case number, but your name—you come alive. Watch this. Dave Hurlburt! Margaret Nalbach! Kei Fujimura! See there. It matters. God calls Moses by name twice.

The freedom of a nation begins with the recognition of an individual. It starts with being heard, remembered, seen, and noticed.

God Will Be

But Moses is incredulous. “And just who shall I tell them sent me? What is your name anyway? Voice From Bush? Hey You Up There?” And God answers, “I AM WHO I AM.” The most important verb in scripture. Exodus 3:14: ehyeh asher ehyeh. Ehyeh means “I am” but also “I was. I will be. I have been” and so on. ^[6] Asher can mean “that, who, which” and so on. The name of God is too big for human language, but here ehyeh asher ehyeh means:

I am who I am…I was who I was…I will be who I will be… have been who I have been… (to infinity)

A Jewish mediation on Exodus 3:14 as taught by Rabbi Michael Lerner. Mix and match.

I am who I was…I will be who I am becoming…I am that I will be… (to infinity)

Moses wants to know God, but God will not be apprehended, not by human thinking anyway. The medieval anonymous guide to contemplation known as The Cloud of Unknowing teaches we cannot think God, we can only love God. ^[7] God can well be loved, but God cannot be thought. ^[8] These words should hang in flashing neon over the door of every seminary.

Because God is not an ideology. God just IS, and that should be enough for us right now. The One who becomes. The One who will be with you —in Egypt, in exile, in the wilderness, in the streets, in the sickroom, in the courtroom, in the boardroom, in the rubble, in the voting booth, in the church. Elizabeth Barrett Browning wrote:

Earth’s crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God. ^[9]

God is mystery, but God is not confusion. God is presence. God is movement. God is here right now and already on the way.

No More Excuses

But Moses doesn’t feel ready. He says, “I’m not a good speaker.” “Please send someone else.” God says Aaron will go with you. Your brother talks real good. You need him. And he needs you. I am calling you. Your sister Miriam is standing by, too. Because nobody can do this work alone. God gives us traveling partners, companions. No one is exempt from the simple invitation to turn aside, to listen for God. No one is too young, too old, too unsure, too scared, too tired, too soft-spoken, too privileged, too overwhelmed to be called.

Holy Ground

The world is burning. There is real pain, real fear, real injustice, and yet even now, the bush burns and is not consumed. The voice calls not in anger but in love. It’s saying your name, calling you to do more than think you can, calling you to love God, and let that agape love lead you to new choices. This moment, this life, this ordinary, weary ground is holy—not because we’re ready or pure of heart—God knows!—but because the Great I AM…is.

So take off the shoes of cynicism, and turn aside. Remove whatever armor you put on just to make it through the week, and turn aside. Turn aside and hear what God has to say. “I have seen. I have heard. I will be with you.” Amen.

4 The history of liberation is integral to our theology.

5 John Koblin and Michael M. Grynbaum, “Jimmy Kimmel, Somber but Defiant, Defends Free Speech in Return to ABC” New York Times, September 23, 2025, accessed online at < https://www.nytimes.com/2025/09/23/business/media/jimmy-kimmel-return-monologue.html> (September 23, 2025)

6 O. Wesley Allen, editor. The Preacher’s Bible Handbook (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2019) 15. (“Exodus” Lisa Wilson Davison)

7 Richard Rohr, Center for Contemplation and Action Daily Devotional, January 29, 2020, “The Cloud of Unknowing”

< https://cac.org/daily-meditations/the-cloud-of-unknowing-2020-01-29/> (September 23, 2025)

8 Ibid.

9 Aurora Leigh 86 by Elizabeth Barrett Browning, The Literature Network Forum, accessed online at <https://www.online-literature.com/forums/showthread.php?77123-Please-help-with-poem-analyzation-Aurora-Leigh-86-by-Elizabeth-Barrett-Browning> (September 20, 2025)

Sermon 09.21.2025: To Remember When Waking

Sun, 21 Sep 2025 21:46:56 GMT

Do you remember your dreams?

There are mornings we wake up and wish we could return to the narrative of our dreams, even as the details fade away. No matter how hard we try, we just can’t return to that particular dream story. It would be easier to grab hold of a cloud or catch a shadow.

There are mornings we wake up and thank the good Lord is was just a dream. There are some scenarios we play out in our dreams that we couldn’t bear in real life.

How do we dream together what God is dreaming for the church? Let's dream together.

Scripture

Genesis 27:1-4, 15-23

When Isaac was old and his eyes were dim so that he could not see, he called his elder son Esau and said to him, ‘My son’; and he answered, ‘Here I am.’ He said, ‘See, I am old; I do not know the day of my death. Now then, take your weapons, your quiver and your bow, and go out to the field, and hunt game for me. Then prepare for me savoury food, such as I like, and bring it to me to eat, so that I may bless you before I die.’ Then Rebekah took the best garments of her elder son Esau, which were with her in the house, and put them on her younger son Jacob; and she put the skins of the kids on his hands and on the smooth part of his neck. Then she handed the savoury food, and the bread that she had prepared, to her son Jacob.

So he went in to his father, and said, ‘My father’; and he said, ‘Here I am; who are you, my son?’ Jacob said to his father, ‘I am Esau your firstborn. I have done as you told me; now sit up and eat of my game, so that you may bless me.’ But Isaac said to his son, ‘How is it that you have found it so quickly, my son?’ He answered, ‘Because the Lord your God granted me success.’ Then Isaac said to Jacob, ‘Come near, that I may feel you, my son, to know whether you are really my son Esau or not.’ So Jacob went up to his father Isaac, who felt him and said, ‘The voice is Jacob’s voice, but the hands are the hands of Esau.’ He did not recognize him, because his hands were hairy like his brother Esau’s hands; so he blessed him.

Genesis 28:10-17

Jacob left Beer-sheba and went towards Haran. He came to a certain place and stayed there for the night, because the sun had set. Taking one of the stones of the place, he put it under his head and lay down in that place. And he dreamed that there was a ladder set up on the earth, the top of it reaching to heaven; and the angels of God were ascending and descending on it. And the Lord stood beside him and said, ‘I am the Lord, the God of Abraham your father and the God of Isaac; the land on which you lie I will give to you and to your offspring; and your offspring shall be like the dust of the earth, and you shall spread abroad to the west and to the east and to the north and to the south; and all the families of the earth shall be blessed in you and in your offspring. Know that I am with you and will keep you wherever you go, and will bring you back to this land; for I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you.’ Then Jacob woke from his sleep and said, ‘Surely the Lord is in this place—and I did not know it!’ And he was afraid, and said, ‘How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.’

Sermon

Dreams are a weird business.

Cultures have been interpreting dreams from ancient days.

There are numerous dream accounts in scripture, other than this dream of Jacob’s.

There are dreams interpreted in the ancient story of Gilgamesh.

Sigmund Freud and Carl Jung made careers of dream analyses.

And you can enter your dreams into numerous websites today and have people (internet experts!) tell you what they mean.

We‘re fascinated by dreams, I think, because they are so far outside of our conscious control. We can force our minds to memorize the multiplication tables, or use them to brainstorm ways to make the world better. During the day, we work to harness the power of our minds.

And then we go to bed at night, with a nice stone pillow beneath our heads , and we are no longer in control.

I can go to bed at night, hoping to dream about George Clooney and Colin Firth inviting me to join them on a yacht, hypothetically speaking, of course , but I end up dreaming about Sean Connery and I going to a Warriors game. (Don’t google that. I don’t want to know what it means).

There are mornings we wake up and wish we could return to the narrative of our dreams, even as the details fade away. No matter how hard we try, we just can’t return to that particular dream story. It would be easier to grab hold of a cloud or catch a shadow.

There are mornings we wake up and thank the good Lord it was just a dream . There are some scenarios we play out in our dreams that we couldn’t bear in real life.

And there are some dreams that are really, really important.

I’ve only had a few of those dreams. But I’m thankful for them.

In college, during a difficult patch, I had a recurring dream that I was in a cult and needed to escape. At first I would wake up, still in the cult, often pounding against the walls. As time went on, the dream would start the same, but I’d end up running right through the glass wall and escaping. The last time I had the dream, I started in the cult, broke through the wall, ran down the street, and ended up flying.

Needless to say, in real life I wasn’t needing to get out of a cult. But I needed to know my own strength and ability to think for myself. I needed to act for myself. I needed to know I could make the choices I needed to make and survive.

Would I have gotten there without those dreams? Maybe.

All I know is I’m very thankful for those dreams, for dreaming me into myself.

Shortly after Justin and I were married, I was trying to figure out what to be when I grew up. I was actively praying for discernment. God, give me a sign. ”

I was considering law school. I was considering getting a teaching certificate. Either of them would have worked, but neither of them felt quite right. I had already turned down PhD History programs, because that path also didn’t feel right.

At the same time, the church we were attending was hiring a youth director. In the span of a few weeks, five different people asked me if I was applying for the job.

My response was instantly dismissive. “Um, no. High school was horrible for me. Why would I want to put myself back into that hellscape?”

And then I had a dream.

I was in a college dorm room. And I heard a loud and resonant voice calling my name. “Marci! Marci!”

I was doing other things at the time, like reading want ads for jobs, and didn’t want to go see who was yelling at me in the hallway.

But the voice was insistent.

I opened the door and looked down the hallway and there was a giant stone head at the end of the hall. Like Easter Island meets Monty Python. And it was God. I knew it. And God said, “I’m trying to answer your question. Are you listening?”

And I woke up in a cold sweat and applied for the job the next day. And here I am. I will forever be thankful for that dream.

How do dreams speak to you?

Last week, Joann preached the story of Abraham’s near sacrifice of his son Isaac on the altar. The Bible doesn’t tell us, exactly, how Isaac felt as he and Abraham came home from their camping trip/near death experience.

It would not surprise us to learn that Isaac’s relationship with his father might have been affected, and not for the better. And that once Sara heard the story, about how her husband almost killed her one and only child, the one she’d prayed for, for decades—things might have been tense in Abraham’s marriage in the aftermath.

We aren’t told. But we can imagine.

Today’s story is the end of Isaac’s life, so a lot has happened since last week’s story. In the intervening chapters, Isaac has grown up, married Rebekah, and had two children, twins Esau and Jacob.

They aren’t exactly a picture perfect family. There is deceit and intrigue. Isaac and Rebekah divide the family by each favoring different sons. Jacob first will trick Esau out of his birthright and then steals his blessing in the story we just heard.

We hear this story and wonder what is the big deal with both the birthright and the blessing. Couldn’t Isaac have blessed them both equally? But in the days when this story was written, it was a cultural expectation that the eldest son inherited the blessing of the father.

Scripture, of course, is full of stories where God chooses to subvert this cultural practice. Isaac had already received Abraham’s blessing, in the place of his older brother Ishmael. Someday, Jacob’s blessing will fall to a younger son. Generations later, King David receives God’s blessing even though he has seven older brothers.

These stories are helpful reminders to us that God’s blessing is not the same as the world’s blessing. We can be rich, famous, powerful, and eldest born and that does not necessarily equal the blessing of God.

I read about the trickery, which defines Jacob’s story, and the trickery of his mother, and I don’t love it. Maybe it happens as it does because women and younger sons have to chart their own path in a culture that doesn’t value them. Maybe God’s blessing would have landed on Jacob anyway, without all the need for deception and subterfuge.

There is not a sense in the story that God was fooled by Jacob as Isaac was. God never says, “Well, shucks. You got me! I wanted Esau to get his blessing, but what can I do?”

In fact, God had told Rebekah when the twins were born that the younger brother would supplant the older one. It feels like Rebekah and Isaac’s trickery started with God. And that just reminds me, one more time, that God’s ways are not our ways, and that we cannot predict where God’s grace or God’s blessing will choose to rest, no matter how often we want to confidently proclaim that someone is outside of God’s blessing and grace.

So guard your heart. When you hear politicians say with confidence that people don’t deserve to be here in this country, or don’t deserve to have civil rights or access to education or healthcare, or freedom of speech—or whatever the insanity is this week—guard your heart so you don’t grow to believe that there people we do not have to care for or care about. Even the politicians spewing the lies may not be beyond God’s grace or blessing.

Jacob flees his brother’s wrath and his father’s disappointment, and heads to his uncle’s place where his mom hopes he’ll find a wife.

And on the way, Jacob has a dream.

Imagine how important, at that particular moment of his life story, it was for Jacob to receive divine confirmation about his journey.

If I had stolen my brother’s blessing, and tricked him out of his birthright, I’d be wondering about the validity of my journey.

Can blessing really be so easily acquired?

Is a stolen blessing legitimate?

Is this all going to end when Esau catches up to him and kills him as he sleeps?

We don’t know why God chooses to work through trickery and deceit and people like Jacob.

But on some reflection, I guess I’m glad God does.

Because that means there is room for me, in my broken life, to be blessed by God also.

In the dream, God tells Jacob: “Know that I am with you and will keep you wherever you go, and will bring you back to this land; for I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you.”

Jacob doesn’t know it yet, but he’s headed to live with his uncle who will be his match in trickery. After this dream, he wakes up in the morning with what he needs to continue on the journey with confidence.

What are your dreams?

When and how has God spoken words you needed to hear to keep going on the journey?

Presbyterians aren’t really known for being dream people. We have “decently and in order” tattooed on our souls, which is how it should be.

Yet there are times when we need confirmation about the path we’re on that is different than the confirmation we get from maps, or GPS, or other external data.

We need divine dreams, dreams that encourage, dreams that equip us, dreams that point us down the road.

If you’ve noticed, I never speak about God’s will. Or God’s plan.

I ask, instead, that we discern what God might be dreaming for us.

This is partly because I worry, theologically, about the message of God planning out every moment of our lives, leaving us as puppets on a stage, acting out some divine drama.

The idea of God’s will can leave us feeling we have no agency, that we are powerless victims to the story of our lives.

If, instead, I try to figure out where my life intersects with what God is dreaming for me, then I can try to live into the best journey God could imagine for me, which I guarantee is better than what I could dream up for myself. It doesn’t take away my ability to make mistakes. But it does still allow for God’s redemption of whatever situation in which I find myself. It is a little easier to ‘course correct’ if I feel like God is helping me find a way after I feel like I’ve hit a dead end.

It is harder for a church to dream, perhaps. How do we discern together what God is dreaming for us? How do we attend to the dreams of a congregation?

Your session, one of the elected offices of the congregation, has been seeking to do that. They meet each month to pray and seek discernment for the path of the church. One thing that has come up in our discussions is the need we have as a community to develop deeper connections and relationship than we can do while sitting in worship on a Sunday. The all-church retreat over Memorial Day weekend fed our souls so well—they asked how can we keep that connection going. And so we’re trying a Monday night dinner and program.

Last week was our first Church Night and 50 people came. It was such a gift to have time around the dinner table with people I don’t always get to visit with. And then the kids went off to children’s choir and youth programming. The adults met for a class. It isn’t too late to join. We’ll be back tomorrow night from 5:30 to 7:30 for a potluck dinner and classes.

You’ll also hear in a minute from one of the elders about how you can connect with our new ministry teams. It has been a while since we’ve looked at how our committees are structured, and we’re hoping this new configuration will set us up well to do what God is dreaming for us.

And I recognize it is the most Presbyterian of things to say that our committee structure is one of the ways we are trying to discern God’s dreams. But I am excited for this. We’re hoping this will give everyone a way to participate in the life and ministry of the congregation. Maybe you’re wanting to serve on a team. Maybe you’re wanting to help more with a project or an event, but not have regular meetings. We’ll have opportunities for all of that. Because your church needs you, and your particular gifts, so that we can live into what God is dreaming for us.

What do you think God might be dreaming for us here at Calvary, so we can better share with the world a dream of hope, possibility, and grace that transcends our divides and our challenges? It’s a real question and I hope you’ll consider it.

Jacob woke up from his dream and said, ‘How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.'

In the next verses we’re told, “Jacob rose early in the morning, and he took the stone that he had put under his head and set it up for a pillar and poured oil on the top of it…Then Jacob made a vow, saying, ‘If God will be with me, and will keep me in this way that I go, and will give me bread to eat and clothing to wear, so that I come again to my father’s house in peace, then the Lord shall be my God, and this stone, which I have set up for a pillar, shall be God’s house; and of all that you give me I will surely give one-tenth to you.’

The response Jacob had to his dream was first a hope that the dream would come true—faith that God would be with him and that he could return to his family in peace. And then it was a response of gratitude, of giving back to God a portion of all God was giving him. May we have similar responses to our dreams—gratitude and generosity are a good way to live.

Jacob dreamt while using a stone for a pillow. I don’t have pillow sized stones for you today because they would be awkward to take home on Muni, but during the final hymn, I invite you to come forward and take a stone from the baskets, take your stone home with you, and put it somewhere where it will remind you to listen for God’s voice in your dreams, to remind you to listen for God’s dreams in your life, and to remind you of God’s promise to Jacob: “Know that I am with you and will keep you wherever you go.”

God is with us, friends. May God keep us wherever we go. Amen.

May it be so. Amen.

What to remember when waking

By David Whyte

In that first hardly noticed moment

in which you wake,

coming back to this life

from the other

more secret, moveable and

frighteningly honest world

where everything began,

there is a small opening

into the new day

which closes the moment

you begin your plans.

What you can plan

is too small

for you to live.

What you can live

wholeheartedly

will make plans

enough

for the vitality

hidden in your sleep.

To be human

is to become visible

while carrying

what is hidden

as a gift to others.

To remember

the other world

in this world

is to live in your

true inheritance.

(Excerpt from ‘What to Remember When Waking’ From RIVER FLOW: New and Selected Poems, Many Rivers Press. ©David Whyte)

Sermon 09.14.2025: On the Altar of Religion

Sun, 14 Sep 2025 22:01:22 GMT

The horrifying story of the binding of Isaac by his father Abraham is rightfully troubling to modern readers. Perhaps back then and still today, it challenges us to ask: "What have we sacrificed on the altar of religion, believing it was the 'right thing to do?'" Join us on Sunday as we grapple with one of the most challenging stories in scripture.

Scripture

Genesis 21:1-3; 22:1-14

1 The Lord dealt with Sarah as he had said, and the Lord did for Sarah as he had promised. 2 Sarah conceived and bore Abraham a son in his old age, at the time of which God had spoken to him. 3 Abraham gave the name Isaac to his son whom Sarah bore him.

1 After these things God tested Abraham. He said to him, “Abraham!” And he said, “Here I am.” 2 He said, “Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains that I shall show you.” 3 So Abraham rose early in the morning, saddled his donkey, and took two of his young men with him, and his son Isaac; he cut the wood for the burnt offering, and set out and went to the place in the distance that God had shown him. 4 On the third day Abraham looked up and saw the place far away. 5 Then Abraham said to his young men, “Stay here with the donkey; the boy and I will go over there; we will worship, and then we will come back to you.” 6 Abraham took the wood of the burnt offering and laid it on his son Isaac, and he himself carried the fire and the knife. So the two of them walked on together. 7 Isaac said to his father Abraham, “Father!” And he said, “Here I am, my son.” He said, “The fire and the wood are here, but where is the lamb for a burnt offering?” 8 Abraham said, “God himself will provide the lamb for a burnt offering, my son.” So the two of them walked on together.

9 When they came to the place that God had shown him, Abraham built an altar there and laid the wood in order. He bound his son Isaac, and laid him on the altar, on top of the wood. 10 Then Abraham reached out his hand and took the knife to kill his son. 11 But the angel of the Lord called to him from heaven, and said, “Abraham, Abraham!” And he said, “Here I am.” 12 He said, “Do not lay your hand on the boy or do anything to him; for now I know that you fear God, since you have not withheld your son, your only son, from me.” 13 And Abraham looked up and saw a ram, caught in a thicket by its horns. Abraham went and took the ram and offered it up as a burnt offering instead of his son. 14 So Abraham called that place “The Lord will provide”; as it is said to this day, “On the mount of the Lord it shall be provided.”

Sermon

The name "Isaac" means laugher or to laugh. And it references how Sarah, when she heard she would give birth to a child, laughed because it seemed so impossible. She had spent all of her child-bearing days barren, and then, in her advanced age, Isaac was born. It was a miracle! And it was a promise finally fulfilled by God.

After my first child was born, I walked around in a sleepless haze for nearly 2 months. I hardly knew when it was day or when it was night; I could hardly tell right from left; or up from down.

The one thing I did know, however, was that I loved this child so darn much. I spent hours just staring at his little face, in love with every little eyelash, and curve of his nose. I adored him.

So, I can’t help but wonder, as I read this story, what Sarah knew about this trip. How much did Abraham reveal to his wife about the purpose of this outing?

Because let me tell you, if it were me, there’s no way. Absolutely not. I don’t care what you think God has said. It is not happening.

And I think most of you would agree with me, be it your child or someone else’s. It’s absurd, the sacrifice of a child? Just no.

But that’s how this story has been read for a very long time. God, commanding the sacrifice of Isaac as a test for his father Abraham. And Abraham willingly leading Isaac to his death.

It is violent and cruel; transactional in the very worst way. And people who love God and want so much to be faithful, rightfully cringe and struggle with this passage.

Rachel Held Evans, who was known for deconstructing her evangelical faith and writing about it, considered this story on her blog back in 2014, before she became a mother and before she died much too young.

She wrote this:

I am not yet a mother, and still I know, deep in my gut,

that I would sooner turn my back on everything I know to be true

than sacrifice my child on the altar of religion.

Maybe the real test isn’t in whether you drive the knife through the heart.

Maybe the real test is in whether you refuse. [1]

It’s something to think about, isn’t it? A brave question, grappling with scripture.

She then reflects on the parents who choose to leave the exclusive and non-affirming church they knew and loved, in order to support their child who came out as LGBTQIA. These parents refused to continue attending and supporting the institution that told them to hate or reject their child for the sake of God. Evans affirms that these parents’ unwillingness to betray their child on the altar of their religion is a testament of their love and faithfulness to God, not the other way around.

I was surprised to find that there are, in fact, some Jewish writings and commentary that support her theory that Abraham actually failed the test because he should have refused - choosing love and life over duty and ritual sacrifice.

And to be frank, I can see God pleading for Isaac’s life a lot more than I can see God demanding Isaac’s life. But, according to history, child sacrifice was not an uncommon practice back then. There was a time when it was just a part of religious ritual; what the fickle gods asked of the people.

For Abraham, sacrificing his child was not a moral question—he had other questions, but it wasn’t about whether this was allowed or okay because in his day, it’s just what the gods asked of their devotees sometimes. The Canaanites, the Babylonians, the Phoenicians, even the ancient Greeks and Romans have accounts of child sacrifice in order to appease the gods and receive good fortune.

But Rob Bell and some biblical scholars wonder if this story was the tide turning on a world that once normalized child sacrifice to a world that now finds it, mostly, reprehensible, at least as a religious ritual.

One person opines, “I personally find convincing the theory that the story of Abraham almost sacrificing Issac is a story about the end of child sacrifice. Perhaps the beginning of a culture, beginning to wrestle with this ancient practice, and define a response.”

And the reality is culture did shift. In most faith traditions and civilizations today, the practice of human sacrifice, child or otherwise, is obsolete.

And you’ll find that in several Renaissance paintings and art, like the one found on your bulletin this morning, the focus is often not of the binding or sacrifice of Isaac but of the angel, telling Abraham to STOP, and providing a ram to sacrifice in his stead.

Of course, we now know when we read it today, that this was God’s plan all along, God never intended Isaac to die. But did Abraham know this?

In chapter 22, verses 4-5, scripture says: “On the third day Abraham looked up and saw the place far away. Then Abraham said to his young men, [who were making the journey with them] ‘Stay here with the donkey; the boy and I will go over there; we will worship, and then we will come back to you.’”

That use of the first-person plural: “we” indicates that he perhaps expected them both to return. And while there’s a lot that the story doesn’t tell us, I think maybe Abraham held two seemingly contradicting realities in his heart.

One was that he was to give Isaac up as an offering to God. The other was that God’s promise could be trusted, that through Isaac, Abraham would be the father of many generations to come.

How those two things went together, Abraham did not yet know. But he trusted God, anyway. And faith is not acting with certainty; faith is acting when the way is not clear.

Hebrews 11 is a chapter about faith, and this story shows up in it. Verse 17 says, “By faith Abraham, when put to the test, offered up Isaac. He who had received the promises was ready to offer up his only son, of whom he had been told, ‘It is through Isaac that descendants shall be named for you.’ He considered the fact that God is able even to raise someone from the dead- and figuratively speaking, he did receive him back.”

Now again, we don’t exactly know what Abraham was thinking, what he hoped for, or what he thought would be possible. But reading this story today, I see someone stepping out in faith, trying to believe that two things might be true at the same time, and that perhaps God is able to provide a way when there seems to be no probable way.

Abraham did not know how. But Abraham believed God could.

Today, we have a minute for ministry from Jett Appling of SafeHouse. And then, following worship, we have an Adult Education Presentation in the lounge also from SafeHouse. I hope you’ll join us.

The Rev. Glenda Hope who began this incredible ministry of Safe House, once spoke with our young adults group. She said, and I paraphrase, that we, as humans, like to have all the things planned out before we start something. We wanna know all the possible outcomes, the possible pitfalls, and how to do it.

To that, she said, “You don’t have to know. You don’t have to have a long-range plan. You don’t have to know even what you’re doing. When God speaks to you, just go.”

When she began Safe House, she didn’t have all the answers. She just knew that she was called to a ministry in the Tenderloin, which did not seem probable or possible with her former church experiences, but it evolved and it grew and it got funding. And it evolved and it grew, and it eventually became what it is today.

She did not have all the answers. She did not have a full-proof plan. But she did have faith.

It reminds me of the quote by the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr: “Take the first step in faith. You don't have to see the whole staircase, just take the first step.”

And so I imagine, Abraham, telling those who’ve traveled with them, “We’ll be back, both of us, me and Isaac,” and not quite knowing how that will happen, he ventures forth any way.

These days, I find myself in that particular moment of the story quite often.

I don’t know how we will go from a nation that worships guns to a nation that prevents school shootings. I don’t know how we will go from a culture that scapegoats trans people and immigrants to a culture that offers life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness to all people, equally, like we say we do. I don’t know how this country will ever escape the sins of slavery so that we might delight in diversity and repair the harms done to our black siblings.

And in the year 2025, if we’re honest with ourselves, we continue to sacrifice our children, not on a mountaintop like Abraham planned for Isaac, but by refusing to change gun laws, by denying gender-affirming care, and by protecting pedophiles and sexual predators. I don’t know how we go from sacrificing children to loving and nurturing them. How do we get from one place to another? Or maybe it’s not even a linear process because things can and do co-exist, creating seemingly contradicting realities.

After all, even in this broken and divided country, willing to sacrifice our children, I witnessed a judge of the highest court in this nation, lovingly and with great kindness and care, hug and respect every child in this sanctuary on Thursday night.

We are a nation that allows students to practice active shooter drills rather than address our gun laws. And we are a nation with a supreme court judge who loves and honors children with all her heart.

Both of these are true, and both of these realities exist at the very same time. And I don’t quite know how to reconcile it all.

So here’s what I do know. I do know and do believe that my ancestors in faith probably grappled with this same not-knowing, with this same conundrum of contradicting truths existing at the same time.

And if Abraham was surprised with an unexpected ram for sacrifice, and was able to proclaim later that “The Lord will provide,” then, perhaps we, too, might find God in unexpected places and in unexpected ways, able to proclaim, one day, that the Lord did indeed provide.

Is there an angel, or a ram, or a voice calling us to notice something that might allow us to believe in the impossible, that allows us to see and create a way where there is no way? I hope so.

Because I have to believe that transformation is possible. I have to believe that people and cultures and societies can and do change, allowing for love, peace, and justice to thrive.

Maybe sometimes we revert back, but it will not always be this way. Because we have a God who once said: “No—this is not the way. We will not sacrifice humans on the altar of religion this day.” And we have a God that says today, “No—this is not the way. We will not continue to sacrifice humans on any altar this day.” And we have a God who, in the person of Jesus, resisted the violence of Rome and chose to radically love and welcome all people.

Friends, we do not have to live like this. Change is not only possible; it is necessary because God demands it. And God will provide a way. I imagine it will not be easy. But I have to believe it is possible.

Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief. Amen.

[1] https://rachelheldevans.com/blog/fail-abraham-test

Sermon 09.07.2025: And It Was Good

Sun, 07 Sep 2025 20:50:41 GMT

As we begin a new program year, we'll start at the very beginning. In the Book of Genesis, God creates the world. Humanity one of God's many and marvelous creations. How does our createdness inform our life together in community, with each other, with the other acts of God's creation?

Scripture

Genesis 1:1—2:4a

In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters.

Then God said, “Let there be light”; and there was light. And God saw that the light was good; and God separated the light from the darkness. God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And there was evening and there was morning, the first day.

And God said, “Let there be a dome in the midst of the waters, and let it separate the waters from the waters.” So God made the dome and separated the waters that were under the dome from the waters that were above the dome. And it was so. God called the dome Sky. And there was evening and there was morning, the second day.

And God said, “Let the waters under the sky be gathered together into one place, and let the dry land appear.” And it was so. God called the dry land Earth, and the waters that were gathered together he called Seas. And God saw that it was good. Then God said, “Let the earth put forth vegetation: plants yielding seed, and fruit trees of every kind on earth that bear fruit with the seed in it.” And it was so. The earth brought forth vegetation: plants yielding seed of every kind, and trees of every kind bearing fruit with the seed in it. And God saw that it was good. And there was evening and there was morning, the third day.

And God said, “Let there be lights in the dome of the sky to separate the day from the night; and let them be for signs and for seasons and for days and years, and let them be lights in the dome of the sky to give light upon the earth.” And it was so. God made the two great lights—the greater light to rule the day and the lesser light to rule the night—and the stars. God set them in the dome of the sky to give light upon the earth, to rule over the day and over the night, and to separate the light from the darkness. And God saw that it was good. And there was evening and there was morning, the fourth day.

And God said, “Let the waters bring forth swarms of living creatures, and let birds fly above the earth across the dome of the sky.” So God created the great sea monsters and every living creature that moves, of every kind, with which the waters swarm, and every winged bird of every kind. And God saw that it was good. God blessed them, saying, “Be fruitful and multiply and fill the waters in the seas, and let birds multiply on the earth.” And there was evening and there was morning, the fifth day.

And God said, “Let the earth bring forth living creatures of every kind: cattle and creeping things and wild animals of the earth of every kind.” And it was so. God made the wild animals of the earth of every kind, and the cattle of every kind, and everything that creeps upon the ground of every kind. And God saw that it was good.

Then God said, “Let us make humankind in our image, according to our likeness; and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the birds of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the wild animals of the earth, and over every creeping thing that creeps upon the earth.”

So God created humankind in their image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them. God blessed them, and God said to them, “Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it; and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the air and over every living thing that moves upon the earth.”

God said, “See, I have given you every plant yielding seed that is upon the face of all the earth, and every tree with seed in its fruit; you shall have them for food. And to every beast of the earth, and to every bird of the air, and to everything that creeps on the earth, everything that has the breath of life, I have given every green plant for food.” And it was so.

God saw everything that they had made, and indeed, it was very good. And there was evening and there was morning, the sixth day.

Thus the heavens and the earth were finished, and all their multitude. And on the seventh day God finished the work that they had done, and he rested on the seventh day from all the work that they had done. So God blessed the seventh day and hallowed it, because on it God rested from all the work that God had done in creation.

These are the generations of the heavens and the earth when they were created.

Sermon

And so today, we start at the very beginning, a very good place to start, as Julie Andrews taught us.

In the beginning.

The Book of Genesis begins with “once upon a time” kind of story, back when the universe was primordial ooze and was without form or substance. God breathed her Spirit over the face of the chaos and brought order. And it was good.

Don’t ever forget the goodness of God’s creation.

There have been gods throughout history who were largely capricious and destructive. People worship those gods in fear and in hopes of not making them angry. You can see that even today—people convinced God would send them to hell just for kicks, or because they managed not to check off the boxes required to be loved by God. We see people worshiping capricious and destructive gods of power, war, cruelty, and chaos. You don’t have to look hard at the news to see the worship of those gods.

In Genesis 1, however, we see God creating in joy and love, taking what was once formless void and creating light, sky, land, sun, moon, creepy crawly things, birds, cows, and even people.

The fact that the hedgehog and the platypus and the penguin exist show me that God finds joy and delight in the creative process.

On Twitter a number of years ago, people imagined God’s conversations as they created animals.

“God creating snakes: How about a sock thats angry all the time”.

“God creating horses: Take a donkey, and make it sexy”.

“God creating parrots: How about a tie dye chicken that screams actual words at you?”

“God creating dogs: Oh, these turned out great. I’m gonna want all these back at some point”.

I’m not sure that’s a verbatim transcription of the 5th and 6th day of creation, but I’m sure it’s at least partly right. God’s work in the creation story is imaginative, delightful, and collaborative.

And think of how humanity has continued on as God began, creating art, music, literature, antibiotics, vaccines, pizza, women’s basketball, and the comedy of Monty Python.

Our creative work is not the same as God’s creating works of course, and sometimes we forget our place as creation, pretending we created the universe ourselves. But when we create to make the world better, to bring beauty and joy to the world, we continue as God began. And God declares that good.

God declares their creation good.

I think this could be the topic of our sermons for the entire year. Maybe eternity.

God declares their creation good.

We read those words. We hear those words. Do we believe those words?

I read the news, and I realize how hard it is for us to believe that other people are God’s good creation. I hear the critic in my head and realize how hard it is sometimes to believe that I am God’s good creation.

And both of those things have to go together. If you only believe God created you good and everyone else is a hot mess, that’s a problem. But it is also a problem if you believe God created everyone else good but you were a mistake or disappointment.

God declares their creation good. That includes you. It includes every person you have ever and will ever meet. It includes every person you will never meet. Not all human behavior is good, but each human being was created good.

We have an entire economy and political system we have created to tell us different. We’re told other people are not worth loving, or housing, or protecting, or honoring.

Those messages may not say explicitly anything about God. The messaging may be about how the people themselves are responsible for why we don’t need to care for them. They are poor because they don’t want to work. They should be deported because they should have stayed in their own country. They voted for that candidate we don’t like so they must be idiots. Etc. We separate ourselves from seeing the created goodness and humanity of each other all the time.

And it must stop.

Each and every person involved in those stories we tell are people who were created by God, and God declares their creation good. Our policies may still need to limit societies response, but it would be clearer and more honest if the messaging was “these people were made by God and are worthy of respect and care, but we don’t want to raise taxes to care for them” or “we’re afraid of their difference” or whatever the honest message is.

God declares their creation good. Who are we to say it is not?

And the economy may be even more set up to make it hard to believe that we, in these frail human bodies, could be considered good. We spend well over 100 billion [1] a year on beauty and fitness in this country.

We are told, and we too easily believe, that if only our hair, skin, face, weight, strength, fitness, height, body shape, were different, then maybe God might be happy with their creation that is us.

And yes, take care of your body and your health. But don’t do it so that God will declare you good. Do it because God already has.

We have to let go of some idealized notion of what the perfect human should look like and remember that in God’s good creation process, diversity is built in. We are supposed to be different, with different gifts, different strengths, different abilities.

My husband, among his many gifts, seems to have been built for speed and endurance. He can run for days, through pain. It is impressive to me, and though I have tried to match him in that ability, I cannot. I appear to have been built for comfort. I don’t mean to brag, but I can sit for long stretches at a time. He and I are different. God has created us good. God has created us to not be exactly the same.

This past week, we went kayaking up in Sausalito, and as I paddled around the Bay, I watched some sort of pelican/osprey flying fast and impossibly low, inches off the water, as they hunted for lunch, grabbing fish out of the Bay. In Alaska, I’ve seen bald eagles diving down from great heights to do the same. I also once had a seagull land on my head to steal my hotdog from the bun.

God created all of those birds. And thousands more species of birds too. And God has declared their creation good. But God did not make just one perfect bird. God delighted in creating them different from each other, with different skills, needs, and talents.

The choir and I have the best view in the house each week in worship. We get to look out and see all of your lovely faces. I invite you to look around right now at your fellow worshipers.

While God’s creation is even more diverse than what is present in this room, we get a glimpse of God’s creative decisions here. Not a one of you are the same—not even if you’re a twin. We are all different skin colors, different political orientations, different gender expressions, different sexual identities. We have different tastes in music, ice cream, pizza toppings, and favorite sports teams.

God said, “Let us make humankind in our image, according to our likeness.”

Look around, friends. All of y’all are the image of God, reflecting the goodness of God. I challenge us all this week to see the goodness of God’s creation when we look in the mirror, and when we’re walking the streets of our city, even when we’re reading the news. You will never meet, see, hear about a person that God did not create in love. May we reflect that love back to them.

The stakes are high. Suicide rates have increased 37% since 2000. [2]

Self-harm, eating disorders, violence—all of these are connected to losing sight of the goodness of God’s creation in ourselves and in others.

You, yes you, were created in the image of God. Now tell that to your neighbor.

Who you are is beautiful and good and matters. You are loved. You are enough. You are God’s beautiful creation. Go reflect that message to the world.

Amen.

1 https://www.advdermatology.com/blog/americas-beauty-budgets/#:~:text=Survey%20Reveals%20Average%20American%20Spends,in%202025%20compared%20to%202024.

2 https://www.cdc.gov/suicide/facts/data.html

Sermon 08.31.2025: Wisdom on Stage

Sun, 31 Aug 2025 18:34:16 GMT

Summer Sermon Series: Peace and Perseverance in Poetry

This four-week summer series highlights three biblical books—Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, and Song of Solomon. These texts are not narratives; they are poetry, and like all poetry, they communicate in language aimed as much at the heart as at the head. As we ponder these ancient texts, may we find the peace and the perseverance to live a life of faith and love.

Wisdom on Stage
A sermon of show tunes performed by our Calvary Choir - showcasing the truth in other artist's gospels.

Sermon

This is the final Sunday of our Worship Series: Peace and Perseverance in Poetry.

Throughout August, we’ve journeyed together through the deep waters of biblical Wisdom literature.

Today, as we conclude this series, our worship service will be a celebration—a finale woven with sacred texts and stirring music. You’ll hear a variety of passages from the Bible’s Wisdom tradition, paired with songs from the Broadway stage.

Why Broadway? Because sometimes, the truth jumps out—not just from scripture, but from a spotlighted lyric or a moment of unexpected grace. Wisdom has a way of finding us wherever beauty lives.

The Holy Spirit—closely aligned with Holy Wisdom— thrives beyond the walls of religion. She is the breath that catches in your chest before a painting. She is the fire behind a performance that pierces your defenses and touches your soul. She’s the one who reveals the face of Christ in the eyes of the immigrant, the poor, the unhoused, the laborer.

She’s here today. I invited her.

This service is an offering—a moment to glorify God and remain open to the movement of Holy Wisdom among us and in us.

Some verses from Wisdom’s greatest hit.

Ecclesiastes 3

For everything there is a season

and a time for every purpose under heaven:

a time to be born and a time to die;

a time to plant and a time to harvest,

a time to break down and a time to build up;

a time to weep and a time to laugh;

a time to grieve and a time to dance.

�� “Corner of the Sky” from Pippin

Sirach [1]

My child, when you come to serve the Lord,

prepare yourself for an ordeal.

Set your heart right and be steadfast,

and do not be impetuous in time of calamity.

Cling to God and do not depart,

so that your last days may be prosperous.

Accept whatever befalls you,

and in times of humiliation be patient.

For gold is tested in the fire,

and those found acceptable, in the furnace of humiliation.

Trust in God, and God will help you;

make your ways straight and hope in the Lord.

�� “You Will Be Found” from Dear Evan Hansen

Although much of the Old Testament is about Jewish identity and promoting its unique monotheism. Later, in the gospels, that theme soon gives way to reforming the terrible sins that can be done in the name of religious tradition. Jesus was not crucified for healing people. He threatened a tradition, he destabilized a cultural identity, and, more than that, he rattled the cages of the powerful—in the temple and in the empire.

Come From Away tells the true story of how a small town in Newfoundland, Canada, welcomed and supported 7,000 passengers from 38 diverted flights after the September 11th terrorist attacks. It’s about generosity and kindness of the residents of Gander, Newfoundland, who opened their homes and hearts to the stranded travelers, fostering a spirit of community and hope amidst tragedy. They loosened their idea of cultural identity and welcomed people quite different from themselves—immigrants and strangers “come from away”. They expanded their traditions in order to do God’s will.

In these painfully-divisive times, be reminded that unity is not uniformity. It is by God’s grace that strangers becoming allies. The beauty of prayer offered together, even when it doesn’t all sound the same—glorifies God. The musical offers us a glimpse at the world described wisely in Psalm 133. In these painfully-divisive times, be reminded that unity is not uniformity. It is by God’s grace that strangers becoming allies. The beauty of prayer offered together, even when it doesn’t all sound the same—glorifies God.

Psalm 133

How very good and pleasant it is when kindred live together in unity!

It is like the precious oil on the head, running down upon the beard, on the beard of Aaron, running down over the collar of his robes.

It is like the dew of Hermon, which falls on the mountains of Zion.

For there the Lord ordained his blessing, life forevermore.

�� “Prayer” from Come From Away

And now, two Wisdom passages about the challenge of human relationships.

Ecclesiastes 9:7-9

Go, eat your bread with enjoyment and drink your wine with a merry heart, for God has long ago approved what you do. Let your garments always be white; do not let perfumed oil be lacking on your head. Enjoy life with the partner whom you love all the days of your vain life that are given you under the sun, because that is your part to play in life and the hard work at which we toil under the sun.

Can individuals be refined? Are we really able to grow into something more through forging relationships with one another? Through community?

Proverbs 27:17

Iron sharpens iron,
and one person sharpens the wits of another.

�� “For Good” from Wicked

In Plan B, Anne Lamott writes of an eighty-something-year-old man, A. J. Muste who, during the Vietnam War, stood in front of the White House night after night with a candle. One rainy night, a reporter asked him, “Mr. Muste, do you really think you are going to change the policies of this country by standing out here alone at night with a candle?”

“Oh,” Muste replied. “I don’t do it to change the country, I do it so the country won’t change me.”

Keep your lights trimmed and burning! Surrender neither your values nor your joy to those who conspire to bring fear and fascism into this world, for it was to an occupied nation that Jesus spoke these words:

John 14:27 . Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.

Amen.

1 Because it was excluded from the Jewish canon, the Book of Sirach was not counted as being canonical in Christian denominations originating from the Protestant Reformation, although some retained the book in an appendix to the Bible called "Apocrypha". We read it for edification and guidance. (Ecclesiasticus) 2:1-6

Sermon 08.24.2025: How'd This Book End Up in the Bible??!

Sun, 24 Aug 2025 18:23:43 GMT

Summer Sermon Series: Peace and Perseverance in Poetry

This four-week summer series highlights three biblical books—Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, and Song of Solomon. These texts are not narratives; they are poetry, and like all poetry, they communicate in language aimed as much at the heart as at the head. As we ponder these ancient texts, may we find the peace and the perseverance to live a life of faith and love.

How'd This Book End Up in the Bible??!
Song of Songs is a book of erotic poetry, neatly tucked into the middle of our Old Testament. How'd it get there? What might it have to say to us today? Join us for worship as we talk about this adult book, in a way that is appropriate for all ages.

Scripture

Song of Songs 2:10-13

My beloved speaks and says to me:

‘Arise, my love, my fair one,

and come away;

for now the winter is past,

the rain is over and gone.

The flowers appear on the earth;

the time of singing has come,

and the voice of the turtle-dove

is heard in our land.

The fig tree puts forth its figs,

and the vines are in blossom;

they give forth fragrance.

Arise, my love, my fair one,

and come away.

8:6-7

Set me as a seal upon your heart,

as a seal upon your arm;

for love is strong as death,

passion fierce as the grave.

Its flashes are flashes of fire,

a raging flame.

Many waters cannot quench love,

neither can floods drown it.

If one offered for love

all the wealth of one’s house,

it would be utterly scorned.

Sermon

This will be a different sermon than you may often hear from me, because this entire book of the Bible, from which we just heard two sections, has zero mention of God, God’s covenant with humanity, or references to other scripture. Anyone remember the other book where God doesn’t make an entrance?

(Esther—ding ding ding!)

The poem narrates an intense, poetic love story between a woman and her lover through a series of sensual dialogues, dreams, metaphors, and warnings to the “daughers of Jerusalem” not to awaken love before its time. What you heard today is from some of the more G-rated passages.

It has beautiful and evocative language. Scholars aren’t entirely sure when it was written, but it is one of the newer books of the Hebrew Bible, based on its language and phrasing. It was probably written in the 4th century BCE, but was certainly written before the Puritans showed up, because we know they would never have allowed it.

For much of Christian history, and for much of Jewish scholarship before we showed up, this book has been read allegorically. Not as the erotic poetry that it is, but as an allegory for how much God loves us, or for the relationship between Jesus and his church.

You can read it that way if you want to, but sometimes an erotic love poem is just an erotic love poem.

And in truth, I am not sure I need to get that close to Jesus. You know? If one were to write an allegory about how much God loves us, I would skip a lot of the language that is in this book. I don’t know that I want God’s love for us to be so sexual.

And maybe that’s part of our problem. It is in reading a book like this that I realize how much of a puritan I am. Most of the time I feel like a liberated, modern woman. Then I read this book and hear all the voices I internalized as I grew up that tried to teach me that sexuality was dangerous, or bad.

Definitely not something to write poems about and put in the Bible. I start clutching my proverbial pearls.

It’s a problem we’re still untangling. I suspect I am not the only one out there with conflicted internal messages about sexuality, and beauty, and desire, and attraction.

We come from a long line of puritans. And it started way before the puritans, even though they are fun to blame for our hangups. That’s why both Jewish and Christian traditions have allegorized the book away from a face value reading of this poetry.

What does it mean for us to have this book of love poems in scripture?

We, as Presbyterian flavored Christians, believe that all scripture is inspired by God, meaning that God breathes into all these words that humans have written and named as holy. We believe that God is still speaking to us today through these words. And it means that God wants us to see love poems as holy. That human love is holy.

There’s a lot of things that call themselves love in today’s society that don’t measure up to the love God has for us, and wants us to have for each other, and the love God wants us to have for ourselves.

One of the things I appreciate when I read Song of Songs is that each of the lovers appreciates the beauty of their partner. And they appreciate the beauty that is in their own self too. And so, if God has inspired this poetry as scripture, and made it Gods’ Word for us, we need to reconcile with how we love each other, and love our own bodies, and love our very selves.

Because God is who made us. In a few weeks, we’ll hear from the Book of Genesis that God created humanity and called their creation good.

Do we see our own bodies as God’s beautiful creation? I suspect I’m not the only one who could work on that.

You may not know this about my past, but I used to belly dance.

It started because one year on Epiphany, the word I drew on my star was ‘adventure.’ And I wasn’t going to jump out of an airplane to find adventure, and so I was trying to find another way to add more adventure into my life. And a friend asked if I wanted to go to a belly dance class with her.

My first thought was, ‘hell no.’ Because it terrified me. And I started looking up companies that would help me jump out of an airplane instead.

But I said ‘yes’ to that terrifying adventure. And let me tell you that dancing in a room full of people in front of a floor to ceiling mirror was not for the faint of heart. But after I had been feeling like an uncoordinated buffalo in this room full of beautiful gazelles who could dance, and afraid that they were all looking at me in the mirror and wondering why on earth I had come to the class…about halfway through the class, I realized that none of them were looking at me. They were all focused on getting their own hips to shimmy correctly and not worried about me at all.

And that was very liberating.

The other thing I discovered in belly dancing was how disconnected I was from my body. Before dance, I used to have a body. It carried my brain around, which was its primary task. It enjoyed a good meal. It enjoyed some pleasures, for sure. But before dance, I’m not sure I was ever fully present in my body. I once ran a half marathon and did a triathlon, but those activities were largely motivated by a desire to lose weight so I could continue to eat what I wanted.

Belly dance gave me an appreciation for being embodied. Dancing is fun. It can also be maddening and frustrating, but overall, it is just plain fun. And there is gift in perseverance, in practicing week after week and finally seeing change as your brain and body work together to learn new things.

I used to spend more time than I want to admit in wishing I had another body—a less voluptuous body, a smaller waisted body, one with better knees. The animosity I felt toward my body contributed to the disconnect I felt between my self and my body, I’m sure.

But to dance, you have to ask your body to do new things, to do difficult things. Why would my body want to do that for someone who loathed it and wished it were something else? Dancing helped me appreciate the ‘skin I’m in’ and taught me to love and appreciate my embodied self.

Your relationship to your body may be different than mine, but I suspect we all have, or have had, complicated relationships to the skin we’re in at times.

The way people read the apostle Paul is part of the reason I think we have hang-ups about sexuality in the church. And for good reason. But Paul also says this in 1 Corinthians 6:19-20

“Or do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, which you have from God, and that you are not your own? For you were bought with a price; therefore glorify God in your body.”

For me, this reminder that God created us and our beautiful bodies, and that our bodies are meant to be used to glorify God—that has big implications. For how we treat ourselves. But for how we treat others, maybe even more.

Song of Songs is a conversation between people who love each other, and who see themselves as worthy of love. It reminds us to see the beauty in each other and in the people we don’t know, the rest of the people God made in love.

Because each and every person you’ll ever encounter was created by and is loved by God. And who are we not to love what God loves?

God created the people our government is detaining without due process, in inhumane conditions in detention camps. And God loves the people God has created. So who are we, not to love the people God loves?

God created our unhoused neighbors. And God loves who God has created. So who are we, not to love the people God loves?

The passage from chapter 8 is one of my favorites:

Set me as a seal upon your heart,

as a seal upon your arm;

for love is strong as death,

passion fierce as the grave.

Its flashes are flashes of fire,

a raging flame.

Many waters cannot quench love,

neither can floods drown it.

If one offered for love

all the wealth of one’s house,

it would be utterly scorned.

The speaker is asking her lover to tattoo her name on their heart, to tattoo it on their arm. A reminder that love is stronger than death. It’s permanent, like a tattoo.

Human love, we know, has challenges. But God’s love for us is permanent. So we pray for relationships that can weather and adapt across the challenges and changes of life in way that mirrors God’s love.

This section of the poem also evokes the combat stories of some mythological Middle Eastern deities. Love is a battlefield, as theologian Pat Benatar once said. In the Hebrew, the words for death, grave, flashes of fire, raging flame—those words all recall stories of how Ba’al descended to defeat the god of death.

I point that out to remind us of the stakes of love. To the grave and back is where the battle for love is being waged. It is cosmic, mythic, and eternal.

And I see that in the way people love. Because love can take us to the heights and to the depths.

“Set me as a seal upon your heart,

as a seal upon your arm”

Sometimes that seal is a pretty tattoo of a heart encircling a lover’s name. But sometimes the seal looks more like a scar.

I have a friend who got a tattoo after his teenaged son was killed from a car accident. At the time he talked about how his life, his heart, had been permanently marked because of Greg’s death, and so it made sense for his body to be visibly and permanently marked too. The tattoo was on his calf, but ‘set me as a seal upon your arm’ fits here. For love is strong as death and many waters cannot quench it.

Over the years, as a pastor, I’ve been privileged to accompany families at the end of life. And whether the person has lived a long life, where death feels like a welcome friend, come to give them rest, or if death seems an unwelcome visitor come too soon, what I see the most at the end is love, and the way it remains as everything else burns away. The disagreements and differences that get in our way are set aside at the bedside of a dying loved one. Because it is love that is as strong as death.

I still think the Song of Songs is just a love poem, and was not written centuries before Jesus was born to magically allegorize the way Jesus loved us.

And I also see why the church, over the years, has used it as an allegory.

Because, in the person of Jesus, God embodied their love, God put their love into a human body, and was born to a woman, was nursed, cared for, loved, and raised as one of us. In Jesus, God loved us all the way to the cross, willing to sacrifice themselves to show humanity that the systems of domination and death are not as strong as the love of God.

In Jesus, God showed us that love was stronger than death, rising on the third day and bringing peace to his scared and defeated disciples.

How are we going to show love? Love to each other. Love to the people who are hard for us to love. Love to our own selves. We see the absence of love all around us, so may we be agents of God’s love, that people may be reminded of the power of love too. May we carry love as a seal in our hearts and on our bodies.

And while I never ever thought I would someday quote Burt Bacharach in a sermon:

What the world needs now is love, sweet love

It’s the only thing, that there’s just too little of

What the world needs now is love, sweet love

No, not just for some, but for everyone

Write a silly love song. Give some sweet love to the world. Amen.

Sermon 08.17.2025: Peace and Perseverance in Poetry: A Time and A Place

Sun, 17 Aug 2025 02:31:35 GMT

Summer Sermon Series: Peace and Perseverance in Poetry

This four-week summer series highlights three biblical books—Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, and Song of Solomon. These texts are not narratives; they are poetry, and like all poetry, they communicate in language aimed as much at the heart as at the head. As we ponder these ancient texts, may we find the peace and the perseverance to live a life of faith and love.

A Time and A Place

Through ancient rhythms of growing and dying, giving and receiving, losing and saving, holding and letting go, God created a pattern and a season for the world. Times for work and times for rest were included in that first creation story. We live, however, in a time when the lines between work and play, busy and rest have become increasingly blurred. How can we find a time and a place for everything required of us?

Scripture

Ecclesiastes 1:1-11; 3:1-17

The words of the Teacher, the son of David, king in Jerusalem.

Vanity of vanities, says the Teacher,

vanity of vanities! All is vanity.

What do people gain from all the toil

at which they toil under the sun?

A generation goes, and a generation comes,

but the earth remains for ever.

The sun rises and the sun goes down,

and hurries to the place where it rises.

The wind blows to the south,

and goes round to the north;

round and round goes the wind,

and on its circuits the wind returns.

All streams run to the sea,

but the sea is not full;

to the place where the streams flow,

there they continue to flow.

All things are wearisome;

more than one can express;

the eye is not satisfied with seeing,

or the ear filled with hearing.

What has been is what will be,

and what has been done is what will be done;

there is nothing new under the sun.

Is there a thing of which it is said,

‘See, this is new’?

It has already been,

in the ages before us.

The people of long ago are not remembered,

nor will there be any remembrance

of people yet to come

by those who come after them.

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:

a time to be born, and a time to die;

a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;

a time to kill, and a time to heal;

a time to break down, and a time to build up;

a time to weep, and a time to laugh;

a time to mourn, and a time to dance;

a time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together;

a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;

a time to seek, and a time to lose;

a time to keep, and a time to throw away;

a time to tear, and a time to sew;

a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;

a time to love, and a time to hate;

a time for war, and a time for peace.

What gain have the workers from their toil? I have seen the business that God has given to everyone to be busy with. He has made everything suitable for its time; moreover, he has put a sense of past and future into their minds, yet they cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end. I know that there is nothing better for them than to be happy and enjoy themselves as long as they live; moreover, it is God’s gift that all should eat and drink and take pleasure in all their toil. I know that whatever God does endures for ever; nothing can be added to it, nor anything taken from it; God has done this, so that all should stand in awe before him. That which is, already has been; that which is to be, already is; and God seeks out what has gone by.

Moreover, I saw under the sun that in the place of justice, wickedness was there, and in the place of righteousness, wickedness was there as well. I said in my heart, God will judge the righteous and the wicked, for he has appointed a time for every matter, and for every work.

Sermon

Today, in our sermon series, we've come to the book of Ecclesiastes. Now, what I’m about to share with you has proven to be utterly untrue, but some early biblical scholars used to say that Solomon wrote all three of these books: Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, and the Song of Songs.

And the general theory was this:

• That the Song of Songs was written in his youth, newly in love and in pursuit of romance. It is a poem about passion and desire (you’ll find out more about that next week, but be warned: it’s pretty steamy);

• Whereas the book of Proverbs was written during his parenting days, seeking to impart his wisdom and knowledge to his children. Perhaps the parents of Calvary’s class of 2025 understand this desire as their children prepare to leave for college. These 31 chapters are like a poetic version of yelling: “Make good choices,” as your child runs out the door.

• And then there’s Ecclesiastes, said to have been written during Solomon’s older, perhaps more cynical days, after life had sobered him up a bit, and he could speak with complete candidness and a touch of pessimism.

Now, again, this theory is more than likely untrue. Solomon probably didn’t write all these books. But I can see why people would believe this.

Ecclesiastes is a bit unhinged sometimes. Maybe you’d call it “tough love” or a reality check, but this book of the Bible just tells it like it is.

For instance, if you were to make the statement, “Life is hard.” The Song of Songs might respond, “Yes, but falling in love is amazing!” Proverbs might say, “Yes. But if you live well with the fear of God, life can and will get better.”

Ecclesiastes, on the other hand, says, “You think life is hard? Well, duh. That’s because it is. And it doesn’t get much better. No one really knows why, but that’s just life. Good luck with that.” Great, thanks, Ecclesiastes.

It’s not necessarily the pastoral care or reassurance you seek to find in scripture.

What I love about Ecclesiastes, though, is that it is So. Darn. Real.

It fesses up to the fact that life is really hard, and we don’t always know why.

And living life, if you do it well – with love, intention, and hope - means our hearts will break over and over again.

Ecclesiastes may seem cynical, may seem jaded or pessimistic, but it faces life head-on. It takes off the rose-colored glasses that tries to insist that life is fair, and instead says, (quoting Frederich Buechner) “Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don't be afraid.”

As adults, we try to teach our children that life should be fair, and ideally, we wish it was. But it’s not always.

There is nothing fair about people being held in a shoddy and dehumanizing detention center in the Florida Everglades, no matter their crimes or immigration status.

There is nothing fair about the Air Force denying retirement benefits to transgender service members.

There is nothing fair about the rights of a minority, like, say, marriage, being debated and decided by people of extreme privilege.

There is nothing fair about being born in Gaza in the year 2025 and dying of hunger.

Life is not fair.

Power-hungry, wealth-obsessed people, who live in total depravity, have made life unfair for so many people since the dawn of humanity. As the poet of Ecclesiastes writes: “There is nothing new under the sun.” And my god, if that seems depressing, I get it. It kind of is.

But here’s the thing. The point of Ecclesiastes isn’t to make you “abandon all hope, ye who enter here.” [1]

Rather, it is to help us accept the truths and rhythms of life, so that we might become wise and live deeply from the heart.

In some ways, it reminds me of Buddhist practices that teach how our attachments and desire for permanence and control lead to suffering because we live in a world marked by change and impermanence. Maybe that is what is meant by, “Vanity of vanities.”

That word “vanity” in Hebrew is hevel . And while the English translation is often vanity or pointless or empty, with one scholar even arguing to translate it as absurd or absurdities, [2] the root of the word hevel actually simply means vapor or mist, something that cannot be caught or nailed down or forced to stay. In Ecclesiastes chapter 2, the author uses the phrase, “like chasing after the wind.”

Now, we all know that the reality is that the wind cannot be caught. Chasing after the wind is pointless; it is a vanity of vanities, isn’t it?

But, I wonder, have you ever seen children chase after the wind? They run with joy and abandon, with a kind of lightness and a swiftness that comes with doing something that is meant to just be fun and silly.

Likewise, our lives are a mystery and cannot always be fully understood. We don’t know why bad things happen to good people or why life is so unfair sometimes, and trying to figure it out is perhaps like chasing after the wind – futile. But that doesn’t mean it cannot also be full of joy or love or fun.

Marci, last week, talked about delight. Similarly, the author of Ecclesiastes encourages us “to eat and drink and take pleasure” in all our toil because yes, the journey of life is hard, but it’s all we’ve got, and there’s so much we can do to enjoy life and make it better for others along the way.

That’s why we fight for justice, after all, so that others might find delight and pleasure in day to day living, too.

People of God, life isn’t worth it because it’s fair. Life is worth it because we are created for love and created in love. And God is love.

The Westminster Shorter Catechism, which I had to learn for my confirmation class, asks, “What is the chief end of man?” And the answer is this: “to glorify God and enjoy him forever.” In modern English, we might say, “What’s the purpose of life?

"To live in awe of God and to enjoy God’s presence.”

It may not seem particularly profound, but perhaps freeing ourselves of the need to be heavy, and understanding that life, instead, is like vapor, allows us to truly live life to its fullness.

Since March, Calvary has hosted three Death Cafés which have been very well attended by both members of the congregation and by neighbors who would not otherwise step inside a church. It’s led by facilitators who regularly do this kind of work, but in partnership with our congregation.

And for those of you wondering, “What is a Death Café?” A Death Café is a discussion group where people, gather to eat cake, drink tea and discuss death. It is not a grief support group or a counseling session, but a conversation about death with no particular agenda. The objective is 'to increase awareness of death with a view to helping people make the most of their (finite) lives'.

Like Ecclesiastes, it is facing the impermanence and temporal nature of living, so that we might live deeply and from the heart. Once we let go, we can let live.

It doesn’t right all the wrongs, but it may allow us to appreciate and notice the little things that can bring joy and meaning, the things that point us to God and to something beyond just us and the daily grind.

Maybe it will help us slow down, reprioritize and reorganize our lives, stop filling our days with busy-ness, and start filling our days with joy and laughter. For everything, there is a season, after all.

One commentator on Ecclesiastes notes that “In the face of death and ‘vanity’, Ecclesiastes repeatedly urges humans to embrace life and what’s good—food, drink, love, [rest,] and play—as gifts from God.”

God wants us to enjoy life. God wants us to enjoy creation. God wants us to enjoy God. And even though death is inevitable for both the righteous and the unrighteous, God chooses to create life again and again nonetheless. And ours is a God who knows all about resurrection. Because death, though inescapable, does not have the last word.

So yes, we are nothing but dust, vapor, vanity of vanities. But we are also God’s dream; God’s creation; and God’s beloved.

And I am heartened by the poets of the past and the poets of today who remind us of this. Rupi Kuar, a Sikh poet, says this, reminding us, that though we are just vapor, we are also so strong and resilient.

She writes:

what is stronger

than the human heart

which shatters over and over

and still lives

People of God, our Creator invites us to live. Our hearts will break, but life’s beauty will also take your breath away.

So, enjoy the gifts that God has placed in our lives—that purple, sequin jacket if that’s your thing, or that furry face that greets you when you get home, or the softness of freshly cleaned sheets, or the not-so-quiet snores of that child who sneaks into bed with you.

The meaning of life isn’t found out there in some ivory tower, nor does it require us to embark on some special quest. It’s found within us and among us, around us, and in-between us.

The kin-dom of God is near. In fact, it is here. Right here in front of us. Can you not perceive it?

1 Dante Alighieri, 1265-1321. The Divine Comedy of Dante Alighieri : Inferno, Purgatory, Paradise. New York :The Union Library Association, 1935.

2 Fox, Michael V. “On הב ל in Qoheleth: A Reply to Mark Sneed.” Journal of Biblical Literature 138 (2019): 559–63.

Sermon 08.10.2025: Peace and Perseverance in Poetry: Wisdom the Master Builder

Sun, 10 Aug 2025 23:22:30 GMT

Summer Sermon Series: Peace and Perseverance in Poetry

This four-week summer series highlights three biblical books—Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, and Song of Solomon. These texts are not narratives; they are poetry, and like all poetry, they communicate in language aimed as much at the heart as at the head. As we ponder these ancient texts, may we find the peace and the perseverance to live a life of faith and love.

Trusting in Wisdom

Our scripture passage from the Book of Proverbs talks about the place of Wisdom in God's creation, and in God's creating. Wisdom is often a gift we receive later in life, and can feel somber to us, because of how long it took us to learn her lessons. But Wisdom is a joyful character in scripture, delighting in the world around her.

Jen and Rev. Marci at a SF Valkyries game in their sequin purple jackets.

Scripture

Proverbs 8:1-11, 22-36

Does not wisdom call,

and does not understanding raise her voice?

On the heights, beside the way,

at the crossroads she takes her stand;

beside the gates in front of the town,

at the entrance of the portals she cries out:

‘To you, O people, I call,

and my cry is to all that live.

O simple ones, learn prudence;

acquire intelligence, you who lack it.

Hear, for I will speak noble things,

and from my lips will come what is right;

for my mouth will utter truth;

wickedness is an abomination to my lips.

All the words of my mouth are righteous;

there is nothing twisted or crooked in them.

They are all straight to one who understands

and right to those who find knowledge.

Take my instruction instead of silver,

and knowledge rather than choice gold;

for wisdom is better than jewels,

and all that you may desire cannot compare with her.

(Wisdom says.....)

The Lord created me at the beginning of his work,

the first of his acts of long ago.

Ages ago I was set up,

at the first, before the beginning of the earth.

When there were no depths I was brought forth,

when there were no springs abounding with water.

Before the mountains had been shaped,

before the hills, I was brought forth—

when he had not yet made earth and fields,

or the world’s first bits of soil.

When God established the heavens, I was there,

when he drew a circle on the face of the deep,

when God made firm the skies above,

when he established the fountains of the deep,

when God assigned to the sea its limit,

so that the waters might not transgress his command,

when God marked out the foundations of the earth,

then I was beside him, like a master worker;

and I was daily God's delight,

rejoicing before him always,

rejoicing in his inhabited world

and delighting in the human race.

‘And now, my children, listen to me:

happy are those who keep my ways.

Hear instruction and be wise,

and do not neglect it.

Happy is the one who listens to me,

watching daily at my gates,

waiting beside my doors.

For whoever finds me finds life

and obtains favour from the Lord;

but those who miss me injure themselves;

all who hate me love death.’

Sermon

In our passage from Proverbs, wisdom is personified as a woman who stands on the street corners and in the market place, sharing her knowledge with anyone and everyone who will listen.

Wisdom, which is closely connected to God’s identity, is not limited to the temple or to the religious realm. God’s Wisdom calls to us from places that are accessible to all of God’s children. So, while we do believe that God is in this place here today, we shouldn’t believe that God is only in this place. God is also standing out there at the corner of Fillmore and Jackson, calling out as Wisdom.

And we’re told that her cry is to all who live.

Clearly not everyone chooses to listen to Wisdom as she cries out, but it is not for us to limit who her intended audience is.

Perhaps my favorite verse from this passage is, “and I was daily God’s delight, rejoicing before him always, rejoicing in God’s inhabited world and delighting in the human race.”

Wisdom delights in humanity. Wisdom rejoices in God‘s world. Wisdom and God really enjoy each other’s presence, Wisdom is, daily, God’s delight.

Whenever you think that church, or faith, or God, is all about rules or judgment or seriousness, remember this passage. In God’s own self there is delight and joy and enjoyment.

If that is how God exists, then shouldn’t we consider that it is how God wants us to exist as well?

What is bringing you delight these days?

I am finding delight being with friends, sometimes over a meal, oftentimes at basketball games. I’m a little obsessed with San Francisco’s newest team the Golden State Valkyries. And while I have more Valkyries branded clothing than one might be expected to have for a team that has been playing for only 4 months, what has been giving me delight is this.

This ridiculous purple sequin fringe jacket makes me so happy. I wear it across town when I walk or take MUNI to the games.

I don’t want to overstate the value of a purple sequin jacket, but I don’t want to minimize its value either. Because there were many years of my life when I would never have worn this in public.

Never.

It wouldn’t have brought me delight. It would have embarrassed me. I would have been worried about looking ridiculous, or absurd, or worried that sequins make me look fat.

And I applaud young people who don’t have those hangups and who figured it out much sooner than I did.

Maybe I didn’t always hear Wisdom’s cry clearly the first time, but I have learned some things along life’s way. I’ve lost friends and loved ones and learned that the one precious life we have is to be lived right here and right now. The future is no place to place your better days, as the song goes.

Because of Wisdom’s voice, I’ve grown more comfortable in my own skin, slowly learning to love body, arthritic knees and all, and to appreciate the gifts of being embodied. Wisdom’s voice has helped me see that my desire to dance is stronger than my fear of looking ridiculous while I dance. Wisdom’s voice has helped me notice that my desire to jump into the ocean with friends is stronger than my fear of how I look in a swimsuit. Wisdom’s voice has helped me recognize that my desire and need to stand up for justice is stronger than my fear of being arrested, allowing me to show up and speak differently in the world.

Listen again to Wisdom’s call to us:

‘And now, my children, listen to me:

happy are those who keep my ways.

Hear instruction and be wise,

and do not neglect it.

Happy is the one who listens to me,

watching daily at my gates,

waiting beside my doors.

For whoever finds me finds life

It can be easy to despair about the state of the human race if you follow the news. And it is important to follow the news because we have work to do. It matters that we notice and call out the problems so we can change. But we won’t find wisdom if we get stuck in despair, or in fear, as Joann reminded us last week. To find wisdom, we have to remember to seek delight in each other too.

Are we looking for moments of delight in our lives? Are we giving ourselves time and space for delight to happen? Delight requires us to slow down in the midst of our daily routines and notice, to be present with and for each other. To find joy in humanity.

One of my email signatures has a quote from EB White, the author of Charlotte’s Web, who said, “Always be on the lookout for the presence of wonder.”

Some people think Wisdom in this Proverbs text is a stand in for the Holy Spirit. Or perhaps they think Old Testament Wisdom stands for Jesus. There have been religious leaders over the years who don’t like the idea of a female expression of God, present at the founding of the world. I am okay with letting Wisdom just describe herself, without her having to be a code for something else.

She was the first act of God’s creation. She is literally older than the hills and is not to be confused with any of God’s later works of creation because she was there first and saw some things that you and I can only imagine. “When God established the heavens, I was there, when God drew a circle on the face of the deep, when he made firm the skies above, when they established the fountains of the deep, when God assigned to the sea its limit, so that the waters might not transgress their command, when God marked out the foundations of the earth, then I was beside God, like a master worker.”

I suspect the author of John knew this passage of Proverbs as he wrote the prologue to his gospel: In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life,* and the life was the light of all people.

The delight of wisdom was there at the very beginning, with the Word, with God. And this passage calls us to remember the importance, joy, and love of God’s creating acts. As we look at the world around us, we should remember that God created this world in love and with care.

The description of God at work, creating the world, and Wisdom’s claim to be a master builder, might lead you to imagine a lot of hard hats and safety vests, OSHA regulations, and the stress of budgets and deadlines. But when God and Wisdom team up, remember what the next verses are?

“and I was daily God’s delight,

rejoicing before God always,

rejoicing in his inhabited world

and delighting in the human race.”

That’s the kind of working conditions I want to be a part of. I’m sure I’m a delight to work with. Don’t ask the church staff.

But really. On what kind of foundation do we want to build things? A foundation of God’s justice, mercy, wisdom, and delight?

Or a foundation of fear, folly, greed, and hatred?

What do we want to build with our lives, with our faith community, bringing life and delight to the world?

We see plenty of destruction and shoddy construction going on in the political world right now. They could use Wisdom at their side, a master worker.

As Wisdom admits, she can cry out, but she can’t make people listen. So what are we to do, as people who value wisdom, who want to join with God in building a better world during a time of destruction?

Author Maxine Hong Kingston says “Children, everybody, here’s what to do….in a time of destruction, create something.

A poem. A parade. A community. A school. A vow. A moral principle. One peaceful moment.”

Last week, Joann invited you to read through the book of Proverbs, a chapter a day. It’s not too late to start. You can catch up. Today, I invite you to look for delight in the world around you. And if you don’t see it, be it, share it, create it. It may or may not involve sequins.

It’s a heavy time in the world, and we have work to do to join in God’s work of justice, hope, and love. But let Wisdom and delight be our companions in the work.

Amen.

Sermon 08.03.2025: Peace and Perseverance in Poetry: Trusting in Wisdom

Sun, 03 Aug 2025 18:10:34 GMT

Summer Sermon Series: Peace and Perseverance in Poetry

This four-week summer series highlights three biblical books—Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, and Song of Solomon. These texts are not narratives; they are poetry, and like all poetry, they communicate in language aimed as much at the heart as at the head. As we ponder these ancient texts, may we find the peace and the perseverance to live a life of faith and love.

Trusting in Wisdom

God's word continues to guide and instruct us still today. The Proverbs talk about wisdom and its importance. How can we be wise and faithful people of God?

Scripture

Proverbs 1:1-7; 3:1-8

The proverbs of Solomon son of David, king of Israel:

For learning about wisdom and instruction,

for understanding words of insight,

for gaining instruction in wise dealing,

righteousness, justice, and equity;

to teach shrewdness to the simple,

knowledge and prudence to the young—

let the wise also hear and gain in learning,

and the discerning acquire skill,

to understand a proverb and a figure,

the words of the wise and their riddles.

The fear of the LORD is the beginning of knowledge;

fools despise wisdom and instruction.

My child, do not forget my teaching,

but let your heart keep my commandments;

for length of days and years of life

and abundant welfare they will give you.

Do not let loyalty and faithfulness forsake you;

bind them round your neck,

write them on the tablet of your heart.

So you will find favor and good repute

in the sight of God and of people.

Trust in the LORD with all your heart,

and do not rely on your own insight.

In all your ways acknowledge him,

and he will make straight your paths.

Do not be wise in your own eyes;

fear the LORD, and turn away from evil.

It will be a healing for your flesh

and a refreshment for your body.

Sermon

The Book of Proverbs is 31 chapters. So, if you read one chapter a day in the month of August, you will finish an entire book of the Bible this month! You’ll have to do some catch up since it’s the 3rd of August, but they’re manageable chapters. And you’ve already read parts of chapter 1 and 3 just now!

Now, I know some of you have goals to read the entire Bible in a year or 2 years. But sometimes those goals feel a little out of reach and maybe too long-term. This one, though, you can do - you can read the entire book of Proverbs in just one month! Read a chapter a day – well, chapters 1-3 today, and then read chapter 4 on the 4th, chapter 5 on the 5th, so on and so forth.

And let us know if you’re able to keep up with it. It’s a great way to start the day, better than a morning doomscroll.

The book of Proverbs is poetic, not narrative. And it is considered “wisdom literature.” This particular genre in the Bible asks some of the most fundamental questions of life: What constitutes a good life? What is the meaning of my life? And what is the purpose of life in general?

These are age-old questions, questions people have been asking for millennia. And for the author of Proverbs, the meaning of life is inextricably bound with the seeking of wisdom. Without wisdom, even if we solve all the mysteries of the universe and receive the meaning of life, we will not understand it or know what to do with it. It is like, as Jesus once said, throwing pearls to swine. And so, our pursuit for meaning must be paralleled with our pursuit of wisdom.

According to the Proverbs, however, it is not we who seek wisdom, but wisdom who seeks us. Wisdom calls to us, beckoning us and inviting us to see the world as God sees the world.

Wisdom is often defined in the Bible as a gift from God, not a human achievement, and it is an ability to understand God’s plan for the entire creation.

It is a plan where all are loved and where justice prevails, where all are treated as those who bear the image of God, and no child dies of hunger or at the hands of the greedy and powerful.

Now, in the Book of Proverbs, you will read again and again the sentence: “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom…”

Modern day readers may cringe at that word “fear.” After all, we know that in 1 John, it is written that “perfect love casts out all fear.” And whenever the angels show up to humans, they say, “Fear not!”

But imagine a world where the wealthy fear, not the bottom line or the loss of earnings, but instead God’s judgment or disappointment. Or imagine a government that fears not the loss of power or prestige, but the loss of dignity and humanity for God’s people.

A healthy dose of fear doesn’t sound so bad right now where those doing evil don’t even seem to try to hide it anymore.

A little visit from the ghosts of Christmas past, present, and future, put some fear into Scrooge, and good came of it, didn’t it?

So should we have fear or not? I think it boils down to what it is we fear.

Fear of God – yes. Fear of anything else – no.

The word for fear in Hebrew is יִרְאָה (yir’ah). And according to the Hebrew lexicon, yi’rah speaks not necessarily of being scared or not scared, but of an attitude of awe-filled reverence. It may include trembling before God’s majesty, but it isn’t cowardice.

Yir’ah can describe both dread of judgment (Genesis 20:11) or the glad worship that springs from recognizing the holiness of God (Psalm 2:11). This noun appears about forty-one times in the Hebrew scriptures, and two-thirds of its uses is to form the phrase “fear of the LORD.”

This word, too often simply translated as fear, gathers together human emotion, human intellect, and human will. As our hearts are struck by God’s glory, our minds acknowledge God’s sovereignty and power, and our lives commit to align with God’s ways. Our emotion, intellect, and will, all responding to the majesty and wonder that is God.

This is the kind of fear that is the beginning of wisdom.

So what is it about God that we fear? What is it about God that should inspire awe and reverence and a commitment to God’s ways over our own?

Well, I’ve got a traditional three-point sermon this morning, so you can follow along.

First is acknowledging that God is God, and we are not. You see, God is the creator, and we are the created. And while God is always moving towards us, wanting to be in relationship with us, God is also wholly other – transcendent and beyond our own understanding.

The apostle Paul writes, “for now we see in a mirror dimly, but then we shall see face to face.” What we can grasp about God now, in our humanity, wrapped up in our little earthen bodies, is but a dim reflection of the holy and loving One who made us and made the world.

And when we understand that, we are humbled, and this humility is a facet of fearing the Lord. Friends, if the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, then humility is another step on that path towards wisdom. That is the first of three points.

And here’s the second: wisdom also grows from acknowledging that God loves us, unconditionally and without fail. The letter to the Romans reminds us that, there is nothing that can separate us from the love of God, neither death nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation (Romans 8:38-39), nothing, nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

And God’s love isn’t petty or calculating like ours can be. It isn’t reserved or hesitant. It doesn’t come with terms or conditions.

God is abounding in steadfast love.

And, church, I have a confession to make. I am not abounding in steadfast love.

If I’m honest, my love is more reserved and uncertain. It treads carefully and a little suspiciously. Now, I thought I knew something about love when I got married, but my capacity to love actually grew with the birth of my children.

And, please hear this: I am not saying you can’t love well if you don’t have children or if you’re not married because that is categorically false – Jesus loved well, better than any human who walked this earth, and Jesus, as far as we know, did not get married or have children. I’m pretty tired of the western church idolizing hetero-patriarchal families, lifting them up as the idealized norm for Christian living.

What I am saying is that, for me, having children allowed me to open up my heart in ways that I did not know were possible. Holding my first child felt like that moment in “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” where The Grinch’s heart grows three sizes. Literally, it felt like that.

And I am not a perfect mom. I am tired and cranky and short tempered most of the time, but I do love those kids. For the record, I do love their dad, too, but as I stated before, I am a work in progress when it comes to loving other adults well.

But take any other human love; think of the person, friend, or family member whom you love the most or who you know loves you the most, and consider how that love is but a tiny glimpse of how much God loves us.

Perhaps that realization will put some fear and trembling in your hearts as it does mine, because how incredible is it that we serve a God who is capable of such unconditional and unending love?

Fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom. And love is another step on that path towards wisdom. That is the second of three points.

And here’s the third. God is in the business of resurrection and new life.

And if that doesn’t put some fear in you, I don’t know what will!

Because that means, we may not know what’s next for us, we may not be as in-control as we thought; we may have to change; we may have to let things go and let things diem in order to make room for new life.

Annie Dillard says this about worship: “…we should all be wearing crash helmets. Ushers should issue life preservers and signal flares; they should lash us to our pews. For the sleeping god may wake someday and take offense, or the waking god may draw us out to where we can never return.” Annie Dillard had a healthy dose of fearing the Lord.

Friends, God is a God of new life and resurrection. Lee Strobel writes, “Jesus Christ did not come into this world to make bad people good; he came into this world to make dead people live.” So are you alive today? And if not, what do you need to claim resurrection for yourself this day?

We are after all, a resurrection people, so let us live as though we believe it!

Friends, fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom. And those who are wise are resurrection people who understand that we die and rise again and again throughout our lives.

Yi’rah , fear of the Lord, is not just some relic of a bygone religion. It is the heartbeat of our faith still today. It draws us into humble, loving, and joyful communion with God, and the communion table is one place, where resurrection can take place. It wakens us to new life as we feast with Christ. It joins us with saints who have gone before us, resurrecting their love and presence among us.

That’s particularly poignant today, as we take communion, surrounded by the names of our unhoused neighbors who have died just this past year. These banners carry the names of the 296 people who died on the streets of San Francisco in 2024. They were created for the Annual Homeless Persons Memorial that names these lives lost in a vigil held on the winter solstice.

These names, known and loved by God, encircle us in the sanctuary today and join us at the great feast of our Lord Jesus Christ - we are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses indeed!

So rise up, dear people of God, and let us seek wisdom together, seek justice together, breaking bread and sharing God’s love with one another and the world along the way.

Amen.

Sermon 07.27.2025: Revelation as Resistance: The City with Open Gates: God's Future Without Fear

Sun, 27 Jul 2025 18:46:41 GMT

In its final chapters, Revelation gives us a vision of a world healed, restored, and bursting with light. The New Jerusalem is not as an escape plan but a divine promise for this world—where there are no temples of exclusion, no gates shut to the outsider, and no more night for the weary. God’s justice includes rivers of healing, trees for all peoples, and a city where glory comes in all colors. This is the future we’re called to build—right here, right now.

Scripture

Rev 21:1-7, 22-27

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. 2 And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. 3 And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying,

‘See, the home of God is among mortals.

He will dwell with them;

they will be his peoples,

and God himself will be with them;

4 he will wipe every tear from their eyes.

Death will be no more;

mourning and crying and pain will be no more,

for the first things have passed away.’

5 And the one who was seated on the throne said, ‘See, I am making all things new.’ Also he said, ‘Write this, for these words are trustworthy and true.’ 6 Then he said to me, ‘It is done! I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. To the thirsty I will give water as a gift from the spring of the water of life. 7 Those who conquer will inherit these things, and I will be their God and they will be my children.

Rev 22:1-5

Then the angel* showed me the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb 2through the middle of the street of the city. On either side of the river is the tree of life* with its twelve kinds of fruit, producing its fruit each month; and the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations. 3Nothing accursed will be found there any more. But the throne of God and of the Lamb will be in it, and his servants* will worship him; 4they will see his face, and his name will be on their foreheads. 5And there will be no more night; they need no light of lamp or sun, for the Lord God will be their light, and they will reign for ever and ever.

Sermon

For today, I invite you to think of the Bible as one long narrative. There are many tangents, but the overarching theme is the union and reunion of heaven and earth, God and God’s people. Since that whole Garden of Eden debacle, God and humanity have been negotiating a new relationship.

It’s Not the End of the World.

Let’s be honest. When most Christians consider the book of Revelation, they don’t think “hope.” They think beasts and blood, fire and conspiracies, wars and rumors of war, A Rottweiler leaving a human baby on the steps of a mansion in the old Omen movies. They think of doomsday clocks and escape pods—of billionaires with deep thoughts choosing who gets out and who stays behind.

But when it comes to the Bible, the book is always better than the movie. Revelation is not about escape—it’s about God staying with us. “Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth… and the holy city, the New Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God…and God will dwell with them.” Revelation doesn’t end with an evacuation. These final chapters of scripture end with God moving in. Healing the relationship we’ve negotiated since Genesis, God moves in.

God doesn't toss out creation and start over. Instead, God takes what has been broken, saves it, makes it whole. God redeems. God renews. This isn’t a vision of fleeing from a world in flames. It’s a promise that this world, “with devils filled” [2] and with all its scars and stories, is still worth saving.

Temple Closed, City Open 24/7.

The New Jerusalem comes down as a radiant, beautiful city. What does verse 22 forward tell us about the world to come? 1) There ’s no temple. 2) The light never goes out. 3) The gates never close. 4) The nations will walk by its light. 5) And the rulers of the earth—for us that means the corporations and their billionaires—bring in their treasures as offering to the city of God, in a stunning reversal of dystopian tropes and as antidotes to recent headlines. No temple? That’s an astonishing statement from John, a Jew, writing to the early Jesus movement. God will no longer need a temple made by human hands, because everything everywhere will wake up to the new reality that God is everything everywhere . Everything and everyone, holy. The city’s gates never shut? That ’s a declaration that there are no outsiders in the dominion of God. The world to come is not a gated community for the few. There is no fear of the stranger or the foreigner. This is a city bursting open, filled with glory and color and all kinds of people. In Star Trek the Vulcans call the cosmos “infinite diversity in infinite combinations.” Poet Robert Lax wrote of creation as God’s big-top, the circus of the sun. But Revelation is more than a poetic flourish. It’s God ’s real answer to fear.

God’s Future is Fearless.

Think of how much of the world is driven by fear:

1) The President of the United States recently released [3] a deep fake video, depicting the former president being driven to his knees in the Oval Office and then shackled. This is not normal. This is not okay. [4] It is unacceptable conduct, inciting violence and spreading lies. My ordination covenant outweighs any fear. Our faith calls us all to speak out. If enough people object, it can change.

2) Last Friday in SF, every individual who showed up for their immigration hearing was arrested. [5] They were following the court's instruction yet arrested by armed men who hide their faces. This is also the opposite of the gospel of Jesus. How dare Christians support this! Our government is stoking fear and division of immigrants "invading" our country, or as the president says, "polluting the blood of our country" [6] brazenly referencing Mein Kampf. If enough people object, it can change.

3) And though we live in an empire that cultivates fear and division, this week the tide, maybe, began to turn. [7] Accusations of groomer and pedophile now threaten to take down the very people who ginned up those terms against their political enemies and the transgender community. May we pray for the thousands of women victimized by Epstein’s human trafficking and may we have the integrity to render Justice for those who participated or looked the other way.

To follow Jesus requires resisting the fear of empire and the mistaken religious leaders of the day. [8] Because Christ is the opposite of fear. Revelation shows Christ's future where: Every culture brings in its unique gifts. Every community, every nation walks in God's light. The great deceiver has been defeated. And every person is healed through the tree of life. That's God's version of a holy city! Not exactly the walled-off fortress Martin Luther imagined in our opening hymn but a city where God's glory comes in all colors and expressions, where the gates are never closed. This is why people of faith need not fear the future. We are saved by grace, and there is and will be plenty of grace.

The Church Models the City.

But what does this mean for us now? The New Jerusalem, is not a someday dream. It’s a blueprint for what the church is called to be now. The Reformed tradition teaches us that we are not waiting to be saved later—we are being transformed, saved, reformed in the right now. The kingdom of God is at hand. Our worship and service, our justice and love—it’s all part of participating in God’s ongoing creation. God’s justice doesn’t reduce—it restores. God’s love doesn’t wall off—it welcomes in.

Live the Vision Now.

Rather than wringing our hands, we are called to usher in the day of the Lord both personally and collectively. Until God drives into the neighborhood—pulling a U-Haul teeming with cats—until then, we will continue to feed and shelter people without condition, welcome refugees with joy, proclaim boldly that Black lives do indeed matter, celebrate queer human beings as equal human beings. defend reproductive dignity as something personal, correct economic injustices and labor for healing, and build communities where no one has to hide their truth, or defend their children’s pronouns.

World Without End.

God’s story isn’t one of withdrawal—it’s one of presence. From the Garden of Eden to the New Jerusalem, God chooses to dwell among us. Let go of fear, and live into the promise of a future—a city with open gates—where all can walk by the light of love and justice.

In the name of the one who is surely coming soon: Amen! Come, Lord Jesus. [9]

We believe in God;

who is older than eternity

and younger than our next breath;

who is beyond describing

yet knows us all by name;

who inspires faith

yet cannot be contained by religion.

We believe in Jesus Christ,

flesh of our flesh, bone of our bone;

He came in the body

to give worth to every human life.

He touched the untouchable,

loved the unlovable,

forgave the unforgivable

and endured slander,

persecution and death

in order that through suffering love

God’s kingdom might come on earth.

He rose from the grave as living proof

that what is laid down in faith

will be raised in glory.

He ascended to heaven

that he might be present

at all times

to all people.

We believe in the Holy Spirit,

who leads us into truth and freedom,

who gives good gifts

to all God’s children,

who inspires research, enables prayer,

and wills

that human economics and politics

should prioritize justice,

care of the earth

and the healing of the nations.

We celebrate the potential of the Church,

the life in our bodies,

the yearning in our souls,

the promise of good things in store

for those who love the Lord.

2 Referencing the opening hymn sung earlier in the service. Martin Luther’s “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God” which goes: And though this world, with devils filled/ Should threaten to undo us / We will not fear, for God hath willed / the truth to triumph through us…

3 “Trump Posts Fake Video Showing Obama Arrest” by Matthew Mpoke Bigg, The New York Times, July 21, 2025, available at <https://www.nytimes.com/2025/07/21/us/politics/trump-fake-video-obama-arrest.html

4 Rev. Paul Brandeis Raushenbush & Rabbi Dr. Jay Michaelson, The State of Faith (podcast), Interfaith Alliance, July 26, 2025, available at <https://stateofbelief.com/2025/july-26-2025-faith-followers-and-the-files-jay-michaelson-and-the-epstein-cover-up/

5 “ICE arrests all adults without children at S.F. immigration court today” by Margaret Kadifa, Mission Local, July 25, 2025, available online at <https://missionlocal.org/2025/07/hed-ice-steps-up-arrests-at-s-f-immigration-court/>

6 “Trump’s latest speech echoes fascist rhetoric” by Ruth ben-Ghat, Protect Democracy, November 14, 2025, available online at < https://protectdemocracy.org/work/trump-latest-speech-echoes-fascist-rhetoric/

7 Raushenbush & Michaelson

8 He wasn’t crucified for praying in the Garden of Gethsemane. He was crucified for subverting religious and imperial corruption.

9 Revelation 22:20

Sermon 07.20.2025: Revelation as Resistance: Putting the World Together

Sun, 20 Jul 2025 19:50:12 GMT

In Revelation chapter 6, the seals on the scrolls start to be opened, unleashing the 4 horsemen of the apocalypse on the earth, and an earthquake happens, and the stars fall from the sky. The world is coming undone. This week, in chapter 7, we’ll consider what it takes to put the world back together after it comes undone.

Scripture

Revelation 7:1-17

After this I saw four angels standing at the four corners of the earth, holding back the four winds of the earth so that no wind could blow on earth or sea or against any tree. I saw another angel ascending from the rising of the sun, having the seal of the living God, and he called with a loud voice to the four angels who had been given power to damage earth and sea, saying, ‘Do not damage the earth or the sea or the trees, until we have marked the servants of our God with a seal on their foreheads.’

And I heard the number of those who were sealed, one hundred and forty-four thousand, sealed out of every tribe of the people of Israel:

From the tribe of Judah twelve thousand sealed,

from the tribe of Reuben twelve thousand,

from the tribe of Gad twelve thousand,

from the tribe of Asher twelve thousand,

from the tribe of Naphtali twelve thousand,

from the tribe of Manasseh twelve thousand,

from the tribe of Simeon twelve thousand,

from the tribe of Levi twelve thousand,

from the tribe of Issachar twelve thousand,

from the tribe of Zebulun twelve thousand,

from the tribe of Joseph twelve thousand,

from the tribe of Benjamin twelve thousand sealed.

After this I looked, and there was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, robed in white, with palm branches in their hands. They cried out in a loud voice, saying,

‘Salvation belongs to our God who is seated on the throne, and to the Lamb!’

And all the angels stood around the throne and around the elders and the four living creatures, and they fell on their faces before the throne and worshipped God, singing,

‘Amen! Blessing and glory and wisdom

and thanksgiving and honour

and power and might

be to our God for ever and ever! Amen.’

Then one of the elders addressed me, saying, ‘Who are these, robed in white, and where have they come from?’ I said to him, ‘Sir, you are the one that knows.’ Then he said to me, ‘These are they who have come out of the great ordeal; they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.

For this reason they are before the throne of God,

and worship him day and night within his temple,

and the one who is seated on the throne will shelter them.

They will hunger no more, and thirst no more;

the sun will not strike them,

nor any scorching heat;

for the Lamb at the centre of the throne will be their shepherd,

and he will guide them to springs of the water of life,

and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.’

Sermon

There is a lot of imagery in this section of Revelation that evokes passages from the Hebrew Bible. We don’t have the same familiarity with these passages that John’s audience would have had. But he’s connecting what is happening right now for his community to what earlier generations have experienced.

I find comfort in history to help make sense of the present and that is part of how John is using the Hebrew Bible here. He’s also connecting their story to God’s story, tying a thread that shows God’s faithfulness in difficult days all the way back to the beginning of time.

You may have thought of the creation story in Genesis, when the spirit, or wind, of God sweeps across the face of the earth to bring life as I read about angels holding back the winds from the face of the earth.

Or there is imagery from Isaiah 41, where God comes in from the rising of the sun, as the “victor from the east” who “delivers the nation’s to him and tramples kings under foot”, who is “the first and will be with the last.”

There is also imagery from Zechariah and Ezekiel and Daniel.

In this passage, people are marked with God’s name on their foreheads to save them, which evokes the story of the Exodus, when the lintels of the Hebrew homes were marked with blood to save them from the destruction God wrought on Egypt.

And then the tribes of Israel are listed. In scripture, the 12 tribes are often used as a sign of completeness. Historically, they were not all the same size, yet here there is an egalitarianism in their representation.

Over the years, Christians have gotten hung up on the numbers listed here, as if there is a scarcity to who is in and who is out.

That’s not a faithful reading of this passage. It is a way to use this passage to manipulate people. The listing of the tribes, as I mentioned, is a listing of completeness. The numbers listed—12,000 from each of the 12 tribes— is an exponential representation of that completeness.

By the time John is writing, some of the tribes aren’t even around anymore. It’s not how people would have been referring to themselves. He includes them as a reminder that no matter how we break down our tribal identities to separate us from each other, God is including all of the tribes in the classification of people God loves and wants to save.

We’ve said it before and we will say it again. You will never meet a person God doesn’t love . Every single person on this planet is loved by God, was created by God, and is worthy of salvation. Immigrants and oligarchs. Democrats and Republicans. Tech billionaires and unhoused neighbors. Trans kids. Dodgers fans.

God created all of us in this complicated and divided world. God loves all of us. God wants to save all of us.

There is also a sense that how we live our lives matters in that saving. Do we want to have God’s name written across our foreheads? Or, do we want to be marked by the beast?

Joann preached about the beast back in June, from chapter 13. There, we’re told “In amazement the whole earth followed the beast.” And that the beast marked everyone who wanted to participate in the economy of the beast. “Also it causes all, both small and great, both rich and poor, both free and slave, to be marked on the right hand or the forehead, so that no one can buy or sell who does not have the mark, that is, the name of the beast or the number of its name.”

If you wanted to buy or sell in the market, you needed the mark of the beast. We see that playing out today too. If you didn’t want to have your late night comedy show canceled because you made fun of the beast, you should have shown allegiance to the beast. If you didn’t want your law firm to lose its federal contracts, you should have shown allegiance to the beast. If you don’t want your state to lose access to federal emergency disaster funds, you have to show allegiance to the beast. If you don’t want your university to be defunded, you have to show allegiance to the beast.

In Revelation, as in life, you show allegiance. Everyone does. You either show it to the beast, to Caesar. Or you show it to God, the Lamb on the throne.

How do we want to be marked?

As in the illustrations above, there are costs to our allegiance. The Book of Revelation does not pretend that it is easy to resist the empire. There is talk about martyrs and the costs people pay because they show their allegiance to God and not to the emperor.

According to Revelation, and what I see on the news today, evil has a grip on the earth. In order to break that grip, things need to be undone. The world has been constructed in a way that benefits the empire. It has to be undone so God’s justice and salvation can rebuild.

We use the word salvation theologically. But Roman emperors used it politically, to describe themselves. They claimed they were the ones who saved the people and were worthy of allegiance and worship. They were the ones who brought the peace, or pax romana. To call the pax romana peace is a reminder of how empires tell their own story. It wasn’t a period of peace. It was a period of subjugation when the enemies of Rome had been defeated so soundly they could no longer mount a rebellion.

The emperors of Rome claimed they brought salvation. But here in Revelation, salvation does not come from Caesar. It can only come from God, the lamb on the throne.

The lamb in this passage is also described as the shepherd, leading the people to the psalm 23 kind of water. Power structures are on their head with a lamb shepherding humans. We are the flock. The lamb is taking care of us.

As we’ve been spending time with Revelation this past month, it has helped me see the role of Jesus, the lamb of God, in a different context. What was unleashed into the world when God chose to be born as a human child was no less than a cosmic declaration of God’s power. And God’s power is still at work in our world, even now today.

You may have noticed I had Rachel print a William Butler Yeats poem in the bulletin today. It’s one of his more famous poems, called the Second Coming.

Yeats wrote this poem in 1919, as his wife was convalescing from a dangerous bout of the Spanish Flu while pregnant with their daughter. He wrote it as the world was coming out of the terror of the Great War, as the Russian revolution was unfolding. And he wrote it in his homeland of Ireland, as its war for independence was becoming more violent and dangerous. He wrote it in a Book of Revelation time.

Irish journalist Fintan O’Toole writes, “The more quotable Yeats seems to commentators and politicians, the worse things are.”

In his poem, he speaks of how things fall apart and the center cannot hold. As anarchy is loosed upon the world, we feel the consequences as the best lack all conviction and the worst are full of passionate intensity.

Far more intelligent people than I have wrestled with this poem over the last century. Maybe one of my English professors will reduce one of my grades retroactively for this. But in this poem, this is what I hear.

I hear a reminder that the birth of Jesus, who we can imagine being rocked in a cradle, was such a pivotal moment in history that it challenged the beasts who thought they had won with their violence, their might, and their power. Jesus vexed them to

nightmare. And some new beast is slouching toward modern Bethlehems now, trying to be born, trying to convince the world they are the savior we have been looking for.

But there is only one savior. And he doesn’t slouch. Whose name do we want to have on our foreheads?

Progress is fragile and comes undone. We see that in the world around us, as Yeats saw it in his world too.

As the world comes undone, much of that feels beyond our control. But John reminds us not to fall into despair in despairing times. God is ruler of the earth, and the only one worthy of our worship. There are emperors and other rulers who claim to be worthy. But they are not. This a call to Christians in John’s time and in ours, to look for real salvation, and true power and might, and be committed to that , even as it looks very different from worldly power and might. Whose name do we want to have written across our foreheads?

For whom do we want to be marked in this world—as agents of empire or as followers of the lamb?

Even as things fall apart, we still get to choose whom we serve, who we worship, and choose who directs our actions, our hearts, and our minds.

In Revelation, after all the tribes of Israel have been named and counted for inclusion, did you notice what it said next?

After this I looked, and there was a great multitude that no one could count , from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, robed in white, with palm branches in their hands. They cried out in a loud voice, saying, ‘Salvation belongs to our God who is seated on the throne, and to the Lamb!’

Across history, all of the people who got hung up on only 144,000 people being counted among the saved did not read far enough in the story.

Because the number gathered around the throne was a great multitude that no one could count . And we trust that God, the lamb on the throne, and the angels are good at math. The great multitude from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages was singing praise to God by speaking a truth into the universe that we need to hear again and again. Salvation belongs to our God.

Not to us. Not to a strongman dictator. Not to Roman emperors. Not to the almighty dollar. Not to youth. Not to team, tribe, nation, or language.

So when the news is bad, and it seems like the great multitude is celebrating the badness of it, taking selfies outside concentration camps, remember that it isn’t the whole story. Listen for the refrain of the great multitude who are still singing that Salvation belongs to our God.

They will hunger no more, and thirst no more;

the sun will not strike them,

nor any scorching heat;

for the Lamb at the centre of the throne will be their shepherd,

and he will guide them to springs of the water of life,

and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.’

As things fall apart and it seems the center cannot hold, let us listen for the voices from heaven who will help us rebuild in ways that care for each person, reflect God’s justice. Let us remember that the great multitude around the throne of God has room for us, and room for all. We can live in abundance and trust, creating a world of love and joy.

The Second Coming, by William Butler Yeats

Turning and turning in the widening gyre

The falcon cannot hear the falconer;

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,

The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere

The ceremony of innocence is drowned;

The best lack all conviction, while the worst

Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;

Surely the Second Coming is at hand.

The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out

When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi

Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert

A shape with lion body and the head of a man,

A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,

Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it

Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.

The darkness drops again; but now I know

That twenty centuries of stony sleep

Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,

And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,

Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

Sermon 07.13.2025: Revelation as Resistance: And to the Church in the United States, Write.....

Sun, 13 Jul 2025 19:05:07 GMT

In today's passage, Jesus is getting caught up on his correspondence, writing letters to the churches in Asia Minor, giving them both praise and correction. What do we think Jesus would say to Christians in the United States today, if he wrote us a letter?

Scripture

Revelation 2:1-7, 3:1-22

‘To the angel of the church in Ephesus write: These are the words of him who holds the seven stars in his right hand, who walks among the seven golden lampstands:

2 ‘I know your works, your toil and your patient endurance. I know that you cannot tolerate evildoers; you have tested those who claim to be apostles but are not, and have found them to be false. 3I also know that you are enduring patiently and bearing up for the sake of my name, and that you have not grown weary. 4But I have this against you, that you have abandoned the love you had at first. 5Remember then from what you have fallen; repent, and do the works you did at first. If not, I will come to you and remove your lampstand from its place, unless you repent. 6Yet this is to your credit: you hate the works of the Nicolaitans, which I also hate. 7Let anyone who has an ear listen to what the Spirit is saying to the churches. To everyone who conquers, I will give permission to eat from the tree of life that is in the paradise of God.

‘And to the angel of the church in Sardis write: These are the words of him who has the seven spirits of God and the seven stars:

‘I know your works; you have a name for being alive, but you are dead. Wake up, and strengthen what remains and is at the point of death, for I have not found your works perfect in the sight of my God. Remember then what you received and heard; obey it, and repent. If you do not wake up, I will come like a thief, and you will not know at what hour I will come to you. Yet you have still a few people in Sardis who have not soiled their clothes; they will walk with me, dressed in white, for they are worthy. If you conquer, you will be clothed like them in white robes, and I will not blot your name out of the book of life; I will confess your name before my Father and before his angels. Let anyone who has an ear listen to what the Spirit is saying to the churches.

‘And to the angel of the church in Philadelphia write:

These are the words of the holy one, the true one,

who has the key of David,

who opens and no one will shut,

who shuts and no one opens:

‘I know your works. Look, I have set before you an open door, which no one is able to shut. I know that you have but little power, and yet you have kept my word and have not denied my name. I will make those of the synagogue of Satan who say that they are Jews and are not, but are lying—I will make them come and bow down before your feet, and they will learn that I have loved you. Because you have kept my word of patient endurance, I will keep you from the hour of trial that is coming on the whole world to test the inhabitants of the earth. I am coming soon; hold fast to what you have, so that no one may seize your crown. If you conquer, I will make you a pillar in the temple of my God; you will never go out of it. I will write on you the name of my God, and the name of the city of my God, the new Jerusalem that comes down from my God out of heaven, and my own new name. Let anyone who has an ear listen to what the Spirit is saying to the churches.

‘And to the angel of the church in Laodicea write: The words of the Amen, the faithful and true witness, the origin* of God’s creation:

‘I know your works; you are neither cold nor hot. I wish that you were either cold or hot. So, because you are lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I am about to spit you out of my mouth. For you say, “I am rich, I have prospered, and I need nothing.” You do not realize that you are wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked. Therefore I counsel you to buy from me gold refined by fire so that you may be rich; and white robes to clothe you and to keep the shame of your nakedness from being seen; and salve to anoint your eyes so that you may see. I reprove and discipline those whom I love. Be earnest, therefore, and repent. Listen! I am standing at the door, knocking; if you hear my voice and open the door, I will come in to you and eat with you, and you with me. To the one who conquers I will give a place with me on my throne, just as I myself conquered and sat down with my Father on his throne. Let anyone who has an ear listen to what the Spirit is saying to the churches.’

Sermon

My husband and I are getting ready to sell our Boise home later this year, so we’ve been going through closets and getting rid of things. But one thing I cannot get rid of are my letters. I have collections of the letters my friends sent to me in college, or that my husband sent me when we were dating long distance before we were married. I have a few letters from my parents, that they sent me at camp or in college, and even a few from my grandmother, who died in 1981.

They reflect one side of a conversation, because in most cases I don’t have the letters I sent, only the letters I received.

But I can’t quite quit those old letters. I appreciate the glimpse they give me into my past, reminding me of the things that seemed important enough to me at the time to write in a letter.

I mourn the loss of letter writing.

For me to write a letter today, I would feel a need to say something important. And I promise you that from reading the old letters, we didn’t care about saying something important at all. It was the way we stayed in touch with people we loved when long-distance calls were too expensive.

Would God write letters to the angels of the churches today? Or send an email?

Don’t get me wrong. I appreciate email. It is nice to be able to reach out to someone quickly, to get information to people easily. Email is fine, once you delete all the spam.

I got a lovely email this past week, from one of you, thanking me for something. And you know what I did? I printed it out to put in my file of other emails I want to keep like I keep my old letters.

I’ve also gotten letters and emails of complaint, with critiques of sermons or church governance. And those are important too. Because it matters that we can say difficult things to each other.

As Victor was reading the scripture passage this morning, what did you notice in these letters? I know it seemed like a long reading, but it was only the letters to four of the seven churches. Smyrna, Pergamum and Thyratira also got letters if you want to check out the rest of chapter 2.

One thing I noticed as I read them this week is that it was easier to read them as a critique of other people. I had a moment of “I’d really like to read this letter to the churches that are celebrating how we’re putting people in cages in the swamp. I want that ‘synagogue of satan’ to hear that God is going to come like a thief in the night.”

And I realized it is probably not helpful for me to read the good parts as if that is what applies to me and the bad parts as if that is what applies to the people I disagree with. So let’s resist, as much as we are able, reading these letters to our enemies. Let’s see what God is saying to us and let God deal with what God is saying to others.

Another thing I noticed is that these letters come from a place of love. God cares for and loves God’s church. And in the spaces where the churches get it right, God sees it. God sees their faithfulness and their endurance in suffering. God sends word of encouragement, to hang on through their trials.

I want God to see our faithfulness. There is such a deep hope for me in the idea of God seeing and knowing our heart. I want to be deeply known as we are deeply loved.

These letters also terrify me. They made me miss the dragon and the beasts and weird things we’ve heard the past few weeks from Revelation. Give me something less clear, something that I can pretend to not know how to interpret.

Because how close do we really want God to look at our lives? God tells these churches. I see you. I know your works.

Some of the things he writes to these churches are a gut punch. To the church in Laodicea, God says:

“I know your works; you are neither cold nor hot. I wish that you were either cold or hot. So, because you are lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I am about to spit you out of my mouth.”

The phrase in Greek for “I am about to spit you out of my mouth” is better translated as “you make me want to vomit.”

You know what I never want God to say to me in a letter? That. I do not want to make God so nauseated that they want to vomit when they think about me.

But I think there are places where we are lukewarm. The church in the US has been lukewarm in recent years. And I understand why we have been so lukewarm. Membership in mainline churches has declined in my lifetime. We were 63% of

the population in 1970, and that declined to 54% by 2000, and 40% in 2024. [1] It makes sense that, as we have been worried about losing more members, it becomes harder to be faithful. If you are desperate to hold on to what you have, you don’t want to say anything that might anger someone and make them leave. I get it. And I have friends serving in other churches who worry they would lose their jobs if they angered the wrong congregants, causing them to leave the church.

Nobody wants to be responsible for someone leaving the church. But I think our very fear of losing people in the past 50 years has been the reason they’ve left. If your message is lukewarm, why would people sign up for that?

We haven’t wanted to offend people. So, we haven’t said anything of importance or of challenge. And we’ve pretended we’re doing it because we don’t want to mix politics and religion. But all of our lives are political. Funding for schools, building roads and maintaining bridges, caring for our neighbors, regulating the internet, collecting taxes, and delivering the mail. It’s all political. Who are we to think there is faith that is not connected to the way we live out our lives?

Which is not to say that I think church should be partisan. While you can probably guess who I voted for, I have never endorsed a candidate from the pulpit and I never will because I do not think that is a faithful use of the pulpit. The good news of Jesus Christ is bigger than any political party and should never be reduced to a human agenda.

You may have heard in the news this week that the government has now decided that faith communities are free to endorse candidates from the pulpit. That will weaken the church even further, and I do have some ‘synagogue of satan’ comments in my mind for some people about this ruling.

But I digress.

The American mainline church has been lukewarm. People haven’t found a connection between their faith and their lives and have wandered off to brunch instead of coming to church.

Let anyone who has an ear listen to what the Spirit is saying to the churches.

God ends the letter to Laodicea with “I reprove and discipline those whom I love. Be earnest, therefore, and repent.”

God writes to the church, because God cares about the church and God loves the church.

Maybe it wasn’t the lukewarm part that caught your attention in these letters. Did a passage stick with you as you heard it read?

I also noticed that the churches that thought they were rich and had things figured out, God saw as poor and in need of repentance. In these letters, the things that human communities value don’t appear to be what God values.

The church in Philadelphia seems to get the best of the letters, but they would probably not be a church today we would lift up as “successful.” They do not have power, and they are not rich, they are under persecution. But they are faithful and have kept God’s word. And God says they will make the church in Philadelphia a pillar in God’s temple. The church in Sardis looks successful and alive, but God says they are dead.

The things humans value— power, wealth, and success —are not measured by God in the same way. And as the pastor of a relatively powerful, wealthy, and successful congregation, that gives me more than a little pause.

The church in Ephesus gets a pretty good letter. God sees their patient endurance and faithfulness. God’s complaint is that they have abandoned the love they had at first. That feels like a critique you can address and correct. You started in love. Life happened and you abandoned that love. Get back to love.

Maybe that’s a challenge we can take on. Are we loving and caring for each other? How can we deepen our connections and relationships to better support our loving each other?

Are we loving and caring for people outside these walls, using the resources God has blessed us with to love those in need of help?

Are we preaching love and calling for love to be an ethic in a world of cruelty and hate?

Are we loving people we find challenging to love, praying for people we’d rather scream at, and setting aside our desire to be right so we can answer God’s call to love?

Let anyone who has an ear listen to what the Spirit is saying to the churches.

These letters end with “Listen! I am standing at the door, knocking; if you hear my voice and open the door, I will come in to you and eat with you, and you with me.”

There’s some other door imagery in these letters. The church in Philadelphia is told God is setting an open door before them that nobody can close, and their letter opens with

These are the words of the holy one, the true one,

who has the key of David,

who opens and no one will shut,

who shuts and no one opens:

As a kid, we had a picture hanging at our lake cabin, actually it was in my bedroom at the cabin, of white Jesus standing at a door, gently knocking on it. You may have had it in your home too, by artist Walter Sallmon.

Jesus is not pounding down the door. There isn’t even a visible doorknob, where he could open it even if he wanted to. He’s gently knocking.

I think many of us were raised with this image, even if you didn’t have it hanging in your bedroom the way I did, and it has always been interpreted as a personal thing. Are you, as an individual, going to welcome Jesus into your heart?

And I think that is a part of it. Our faith is personal. It matters what we do as individuals.

But these letters were written to churches, not to individuals. It would be a truer image if what I’d had hanging in my bedroom was Jesus standing outside of First Presbyterian Church in Spokane, Washington, knocking on the door to be let in to his own church.

That’s a very different image, isn’t it. Jesus standing outside of his own church, hoping someone will hear his voice and let him in. To his own church.

Are we going to open the door?

God wants to be invited into our lives and into our churches, not to punish us, we’re told. The text says he wants to come in and eat with us. Do we hear him knocking. Is there room for Jesus at our tables?

Friends, God is writing us a letter in love. God is calling us back to love. So let our lives be a love letter back to God. Amen.

1 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mainline_Protestant

Sermon 07.06.2025: Revelation as Resistance: A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Hospital

Sun, 06 Jul 2025 19:05:56 GMT

As we continue reading the Book of Revelation as a book of resistance, we encounter a story of a woman who gives birth in space, while a dragon waits to eat the baby. Hopefully, none of our own birth stories are that dramatic.

But there are days, and sometimes years, when life comes at you in ways other than you predict, or would choose, or can control. We think we’re doing what we’re supposed to be doing, being good Christian people, and then a funny thing happens on the way to the hospital and you’re giving birth in space. With dragons.

What does resistance look like in the face of the situations we can't control and wouldn't choose?

Scripture

Rev 12:1-6, 13-17

A great portent appeared in heaven: a woman clothed with the sun, with the moon under her feet, and on her head a crown of twelve stars. She was pregnant and was crying out in birth pangs, in the agony of giving birth. Then another portent appeared in heaven: a great red dragon, with seven heads and ten horns, and seven diadems on his heads. His tail swept down a third of the stars of heaven and threw them to the earth. Then the dragon stood before the woman who was about to bear a child, so that he might devour her child as soon as it was born. And she gave birth to a son, a male child, who is to rule all the nations with a rod of iron. But her child was snatched away and taken to God and to his throne; and the woman fled into the wilderness, where she has a place prepared by God, so that there she can be nourished for one thousand two hundred sixty days.

So when the dragon saw that he had been thrown down to the earth, he pursued the woman who had given birth to the male child. But the woman was given the two wings of the great eagle, so that she could fly from the serpent into the wilderness, to her place where she was nourished for a time, and times, and a half a time. Then from his mouth, the serpent poured water like a river after the woman, to sweep her away with the flood. But the earth came to the help of the woman; it opened its mouth and swallowed the river that the dragon had poured from his mouth.

Sermon

Our text this morning is from the middle of Revelation. This is my favorite story in the book of Revelation. The woman at the well in John’s gospel is my favorite character in scripture, and this woman in Revelation is a close runner up.

I don’t know about you, but this was NOT one of the Sunday school lessons I heard as a child. David and Goliath. Noah’s Ark. Jesus and the little children. The woman who gives birth in space while a dragon waits to eat her baby.

In all my years, nobody has ever suggested this woman in Revelation, clothed in the sun, as a role model for us. And that’s a shame.

She’s amazing, and a model for men as well as women. And here’s why:

She knows how to dress . Stars on her head. The moon at her feet. Actually wearing the sun. She’s got style.

She’s strong . She is giving birth. In space. And there is a seven-headed dragon standing there, just waiting to EAT her baby. And still she is committed to bringing life into this crazy, beautiful, and dangerous world.

That also shows the woman has courage . Dragon, schmagon. She is bringing a child to life who will rule all the nations with a rod of iron.

She is resourceful . While the cosmic forces are conspiring against her, she commandeers the moon, sun and stars as clothing. She flies with the wings of the great eagle. She gets the earth to come to her aid, swallowing up the flood.

Most importantly, she has faith . Faith that the dragon she sees in front of her will not have the final word. Faith that it is not up to just her. Faith that God is, even in the worst and most outlandish of scenarios, working for good in the cosmos.

She has faith to bring life into a crazy world, trusting that God will provide for her and for her child, despite the real risks that are in front of her from the dragon.

Most of the language in Revelation is intended to hide the narrative from the powers of the world. John of Patmos doesn’t want his narrative being used by border patrol like a JD Vance meme to get him in trouble, as happened last week to a Norwegian tourist who was denied entry to the US because of a meme on his phone, critical of this administration.

But don’t get distracted by the weirdness of this narrative. Because the dragons of this world are real, even if they wear suits instead of being covered in scales.

I don’t know what the seven headed dragon looks like in your life. Maybe your seven headed dragons are personal. Cancer or health problems. Financial insecurity. Family problems.

Maybe your seven headed dragons are more systemic—late-stage capitalism collapsing into dystopian oligarchy and cruelty.

++++

Some of us have had days, and sometimes years, when we thought we had it all in place. We were doing what we thought we were supposed to be doing, being good Christian people, and then a funny thing happened on the way to the hospital and you’re giving birth in space. With dragons.

And birth and the dragon go together.

When you are bringing life into the world, the powers of darkness will rise against it.

Look at the change in the world in the past decades. We’ve been working on being anti-racist in our lives and in our policies. We elected an African American to the White House, and even though he wasn’t the messiah, it is worth noting what a change that birthed into the world.

We just marked ten years of nationwide marriage equality. We’ve elected queer and trans people into congress, called them as pastors of churches.

While there is much work to do, do not ever forget how far we have come. Never forget what we have done and can do. We are people who birth life and hope into the world .

Dragons be damned.

And these dragons can try to keep kids from reading books about Ruby Bridges and Jackie Robinson. They can re-name naval ships and try to erase Harvey Milk’s name and his honorable service from their sight, but I hope to God they have to fly into Harvey Milk terminal someday. They can pretend trans people don’t exist. They can pretend immigrants are a threat to this country and not our secret sauce that makes us amazing.

They can send people to concentration camps where they will die in inhuman conditions in the everglades. They can pass terrible legislation that will take away health care from old people in nursing homes and give tax cuts to billionaires.

All of the terrible things they are doing right now is dragon work. They see life coming into the world and they want to stop it. They see hope and joy and possibility and want to kill it. The Dragon is alive and well and the dragon wants us to give up, to decide that new life is too risky to venture.

Don’t listen to the dragon.

The Book of Revelation was written for people like us. People who do their best to follow God and end up being persecuted by Rome and attacked by seven headed dragons.

People who live the best lives they know how to live and are waking up today seeing the rule of law being discarded to protect us from made-up threats.

And once the government stops following the law, none of us are safe from the overreach. If they can kidnap American citizens and detain them in prison camps because their skin color made them look ‘suspicious’, tell me why they couldn’t just decide race isn’t the only disqualifying factor to being safe from being kidnapped? They have already suggested women should not have jobs. That queer people are a threat.

The dragon is alive and well and causing a lot of damage in our world today.

A few weeks ago, I was in Berlin for a class on the pastor and theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who quickly realized the Nazi regime was opposed to the gospel and that the church needed to resist. For his opposition to Hitler, he was imprisoned and murdered in a concentration camp just before World War 2 ended. You’ll be hearing more about him in the coming weeks. But we also went to the home of Martin Niemöller, another German pastor who was imprisoned by Hitler.

Unlike Bonhoeffer, Niemöller voted for Hitler. Niemöller was a submarine officer in World War 1. He was an ardent nationalist and, like many Germans, felt the Treaty of Versailles had been an unfair response to Germany’s involvement in the Great War. He was also, like many pastors of his day, antisemitic. While Bonhoeffer argued the church should be taking a clear stand against the Nazis, Niemöller first said that the church’s sphere was not politics but only matters of faith.

Niemöller quickly changed his mind about Hitler and the Nazis when they started intervening in the church, saying that Jews who had converted to Christianity were not members of the church and were not able to receive sacraments or be pastors. He also ended up being an ardent opponent of the Nazi regime and was in a concentration camp for 8 years, before his camp was liberated by the Allies.

I mention Niemöller here because if you have heard of him before this sermon, it is likely because of this quote:

First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a socialist. Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a trade unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

—Martin Niemöller [1]

Both Bonhoeffer and Niemöller were like our woman in Revelation. When faced with danger and dragons, they continued their work of bringing life into the world.

The dragon is here. But new life is also waiting to be birthed into the cosmos.

How do we do the work God has called us to do, seeking to be faithful in unfaithful times? How do we be like the woman in this story, as we seek to bring life into a world that seems to be clamoring for death?

First, we keep looking to God, trusting that while things may be beyond our control, they are not beyond God’s.

Our woman hands the baby—this new life she has worked so hard to bring into the world—she hands him over to God, who takes him away and keeps him safe at the throne. A dragon may show up on the moon, but even a seven-headed beast KNOWS he can’t get at the baby in the throne room.

Then the woman flees to the wilderness, where God has provided for her. She will be there for a time, for times, for a half a time.

In scripture, the wilderness is often and uncomfortable place, a place of temptation. The Israelites wandered in it for 40 years. After Jesus is baptized, as soon as God says, “you are my beloved child, in you I am well pleased”, Jesus is whisked away for 40 days of temptation in the wilderness.

I find some comfort in the fact that Jesus was God’s beloved and was still sent into the wilderness. By the Spirit, no less. And it was the beasts and the angels who took care of him.

So, the wilderness is sometimes the place we wander for 40 years, or only 40 days if you’re Jesus. And the wilderness is also the place we are intentionally sent by God for our own safety and for our nourishment. For a time, and times, and a half a time.

And I recognize that what is wilderness to me might be someone else’s walk in the park. But whether our wilderness is the relatively tame foothills of the Presidio or the untamed deadly alligator Alcatraz in the Everglades, God is with us. Perhaps that is easier for me to say than for some others, but it is , nonetheless, what I know to be true.

As the writer of Revelation shows us, in his somewhat metaphorical way, there is a battle being waged. In the cosmos. On earth.

And the dragon is fighting so hard and causing so much chaos, not because it thinks it can win. But because it knows it has already lost. The battle has already been won. Not by us. Not by our brilliant thoughts or plans, but by Christ, the lamb on the throne.

God chose to defeat even death itself by dying on a cross.

We stand against the dragon. We resist the dragon. But it is God who defeats the dragon.

I know this to be true. And the rest of the book of Revelation will show this to be true as well.

Friends, there are dragons on the loose. And their danger is not metaphorical. But God is also here with us as we face the danger, and God’s hope, and love, and justice are not metaphorical either. And so do not be afraid to birth life into the world. Bring innovation and art and music and joy and hope and laughter into the world. Seek and build community that will give you support and hold you accountable. May the hope that comes from Christ give you the strength to face your dragons. For a time, and times, and half a time.

1 https://encyclopedia.ushmm.org/content/en/article/martin-niemoeller-first-they-came-for-the-socialists

Sermon 06.29.2025: Revelation as Resistance: Un-Scrolling Doom

Sun, 29 Jun 2025 03:38:34 GMT

"Why dost thou doom scrolleth even now?"(Victor 3:16) On this Queer Pride Sunday, we worship the One who shows us how to live with integrity and profound joy. That which is against God shall not stand! As the world unravels, celebration reveals our power to resist.

Scripture

Revelation 5:1-13

Then I saw in the right hand of the one seated on the throne a scroll written on the inside and on the back, sealed with seven seals; 2 and I saw a mighty angel proclaiming with a loud voice, “Who is worthy to open the scroll and break its seals?” 3 And no one in heaven or on earth or under the earth was able to open the scroll or to look into it. 4 And I began to weep bitterly because no one was found worthy to open the scroll or to look into it. 5 Then one of the elders said to me, “Do not weep. See, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has conquered, so that he can open the scroll and its seven seals.”

6 Then I saw between the throne and the four living creatures and among the elders a Lamb standing as if it had been slaughtered, having seven horns and seven eyes, which are the seven spirits of God sent out into all the earth. 7 He went and took the scroll from the right hand of the one who was seated on the throne. 8 When he had taken the scroll, the four living creatures and the twenty-four elders fell before the Lamb, each holding a harp and golden bowls full of incense, which are the prayers of the saints. 9 They sing a new song: “You are worthy to take the scroll and to open its seals, for you were slaughtered and by your blood you ransomed for God saints from every tribe and language and people and nation; 10 you have made them to be a kingdom and priests serving our God, and they will reign on earth.” 11 Then I looked, and I heard the voice of many angels surrounding the throne and the living creatures and the elders; they numbered myriads of myriads and thousands of thousands, 12 singing with full voice, “Worthy is the Lamb that was slaughtered to receive power and wealth and wisdom and might and honor and glory and blessing!” 13 Then I heard every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and in the sea, and all that is in them, singing, “To the one seated on the throne and to the Lamb be blessing and honor and glory and might forever and ever!”

Sermon

Limited Context.

At Calvary, this summer theme is Revelation as Resistance. Today in the city of SF, the Pride, Queer Joy is Resistance. As we’ve seen recently in our country, masked henchmen have been sent to disappear our neighbors. In such a climate, joy is an act of resistance.

Joyful Resistance.

Last Saturday in Boise, a local bar owner organized a straight pride [1] festival. He called it HeteroAwesome Fest. [2] He told the press that he and his hetero brothers are superior to the LGBTQ community which are a bunch of “liars and deceivers who victimize children…disgusting and criminal…wicked and perverse…” [3] He promoted his event as“ an opportunity to make eye contact and say no homo.” But the festivities didn’t go to plan. Local singer and my new hero, Daniel Hamrick, took the Hetero Awesome mainstage, and began singing a song called “Boy” —about a transgender boy— a child who, at birth, was identified as a little girl but carries a secret certainty deep inside that she is actually a he, more than a tom boy—a boy.

Some lyrics:

They put him in ballet, he wants to play ball.

What matters to him doesn’t matter at all. [4]

As they cut the livestream and awesome hetero men wrestled Hamrick offstage, but he kept on singing. And resisting. Joyful resistance springs from courage and conviction. The good news is that only 50 people showed up for Hetero Awesome Fest. I hope they felt safe and made eye contact. There’s such sadness underneath this odd happening.

Resistance at Calvary.

Contrast that to last Sunday in Calvary’s social hall where Sister Roma read Ian and Sarah Hoffman’s children’s book; 85 people attended—some of the crowd coming inside a church for the very first time. No children were victimized. In fact, some inner children were healed.

The Big Picture.

Mona West writes that Revelation is “…meant to…encourage belief in a God bigger than the world’s dominant powers…exposing [5] the heresy of domination…[which will be] brought to an end… so that something radically new will take its place.” [6]

Doom.

Stephen Sondheim wrote the words

Every day a little death…

In the heart and in the head,

Every move and every breath

(And you hardly feel a thing)

Brings a perfect little death. [7]

My name is Victor, and I am a doom scrolling addict. (Hello, Victor.) I scroll until I become numb to the daily outrage. I justify my addiction in many ways, the main one being: freedom is under attack. [8] I want to be ready to protect myself, my husband and the people I care about. I am a preacher and that means keeping up with the news.

I have learned that if I do not control my intake of news, I will slip into nihilism. Nothing will matter. How do you balance yourself in this world? Remind yourself daily that we are the Body of Christ, children of light, on a pilgrimage home to God. Put down the phone. Somebody say, “We’re going to be okay!”

Three Goals.

On June 5, Biblical theologian Walter Brueggemann took his place in the saints of light. He leaves a trove of writings and countless students, like Pastor Marci, in whom he lives on. Brueggemann wrote, “[Revelation’s] promise is not in a never-never land of another world; it refers to a new city that will displace the tired violent city of Babylon (Rome).” [9] And the current empire.

Until then, he writes: “The prophetic tasks of the church are

1) to tell the truth in a society that lives in illusion,

2) to grieve in a society that practices denial, and

3) to express hope in a society that lives in despair.” [10]

Revelation 5.

Today’s reading contains vivid symbols worthy of a summer blockbuster. Picture the opening scene: God’s heavenly court… the majestic throne room…glorious and shining…but all is not as it appears. The evil beast that once appeared slain, now has returned, disguised as a lamb, counting on humanity to accept him as our savior. Mind you, his seven horns don’t quite fit under the lamb costume. He wants to brainwash humanity. We know how this goes. Science is a lie. The news is fake. Books are dangerous. Exploitation is our new way of life. LGBTQ people are coming for your children. The church must tell the truth in a society that lives in illusion. Expose the deception. Lift the veil.

Verse 9.

They sing a new song: “You [not the evil impostor but the real Lamb upon the throne] are worthy to take the scroll and to open its seals, for you were slaughtered and by your blood you ransomed for God saints from every tribe and language and people and nation; 10 you have made them to be a kingdom and priests serving our God, and they will reign on earth.”

All the tribes and languages, every people and nation. Subliminal message: there will be no border patrol in God’s realm. Not the horned illusion artist but Christ, the lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world, the lion of Judah, the root of David—he will save every tribe, language, people, and nation, Jews, Muslims, Socialists included. This is how John depicts God—Peter Thiel’s apocalypse obsession come to life! [11] Every dividing line will go poof. And light will pour in.

Flannery O’Connor wrote that even our “virtues” will be “burned away” [12] by the light of God. That is the rightlyordered realm to come. Until then, we are called to grieve a society stuck in denial and expose magical thinking that denies science. We are called to drive away despair with songs of hope. Resist, resist, resist.

The Day the Rapture Came.

As a child, I was groomed by the culture around me, groomed to choose a heterosexual lifestyle. They failed miserably! That’s because grooming isn’t a real thing. No one can be deceived about who they really are. The following is a true story.

Today is a cool day in early fall, the time of year when the earth seems to exhale and the leaves start to glow. I step down from the veranda to walk up from our old wooden home-place to the Baptist church for my Sunday-afternoon warm-up in the sanctuary. I am eleven years old, and because Olene Hightower didn’t want to, I am Sunday night pianist for the Unity Baptist Church of Plainville, Georgia. I am all that.

To my surprise, the church’s front door is locked. Nobody is around,.. It’s too quiet for four o’clock on a Sunday. So, I sit down with my music books in hand. The red bricks of the church steps scratch against my legs. I’m an only child. I like being alone.

Secretly, I have long suspected myself as some kind of alien dropped off in rural Appalachia, unlike any other child that ever lived. I’m a boy that doesn’t do sports. I’m a boy that practices the piano incessantly, says my father. I’m the boy whose mother had just taken to the county records office to have his birth certificate corrected. Someone had checked the wrong box for my sex when I was born, and now, entering middle school, the registrar asked us to have this corrected. After a series of uncomfortable questions, I am properly documented and declared a boy, Sensitive in a culture that ridicules sensitivity. Designated as gifted in a culture hostile to knowledge. Everything about me feels queer.

The Baptist preacher’s words come rushing in, and I realize why I am alone. Like a thief in the night, Christ has returned, and I am left behind.

Too panicked to go home, I couldn’t bear to discover my sweet parents had been raptured. I’ve had eleven years to repent of my sin, but I don’t know how. I had asked God to strike me down if how I felt was truly evil. Now scared to death, I try to imagine how I will endure the torture of eternal hellfire.

I hear behind me tires crackling gravel in the parking lot. It’s Louise Ruiz in her royal blue Ford Granada. I’m not surprised she’s left behind, too. She was always kinda mean. Oh great, eternity with Louise. I feel her looking into me. “Honey, what are doing here so early? What’s wrong?” She doesn’t even know it’s the Rapture. “Did your mama forget to set the clocks back last night?”

Later during worship, I play that Baptist piano the best it was ever played, hoping to earn my spot in heaven. So many years will pass before I learn the truth of God’s grace. God doesn’t love us for being good. God loves us because God is good. [13]

Verse 4.

And I began to weep bitterly because no one was found worthy to open the scroll or to look into it. 5Then one of the elders said to me, “Do not weep. See, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has conquered, so that he can open the scroll and its seven seals.”

Louise’s Revelation.

Louise’s son Rodolfo is my best friend. Fatherless since birth, he and Louise pretty much keep to themselves. Rodolfo is bad at sports, too, but he’s a musical prodigy. You do the math.

Rodolfo will grow up to remain in NW Georgia and, eventually, will open a beauty salon. He will fall in love with a man named Brian, and they will keep to themselves. One night Rodolfo will fall asleep watching TV. When he doesn’t show to open the shop the next morning, Louise will call him and then find him and call me in California to say, “He just died in his sleep.”

Eventually, Louise will meet an old man named Roy, and they will fall in love. Roy dies a few years later. Louise, once more she is alone. When I see Louise again, I ask her if it’s okay that I sat how joyful she seems. She tells me she no longer lives in anger. All of her losses led her realize that everything she ever tried to hang on to was never hers to begin with but on loan from God—every person, every love, every possession, every emotion, every betrayal, every grief. It’s all temporary. In the final state of things we will be required to place ourselves into the pierced and sovereign hands of Jesus. It was as if she had lopped off part of her faith and handed it to me.

Strength from Saints.

You don’t see them, but there are souls here, all around me. Over the years, I’ve introduced you about some of them. It’s for them that I answered the call to ministry—the human beings who were groomed to accept despair as a way of life, the children groomed to accept lies about themselves. I don’t know how I survived it all, but I do know why. I survive to stand on the word of God and tell you, whoever you are, that you are included in the scroll of life. You are essential to God’s will.

Stand Firm.

Do not accept the empire’s illusions. Lift the veil, reveal the lies. Do not live in the anger of grief. Do not live in denial. And don’t be fooled by the wolves in sheep’s clothing. C.S. Lewis wrote, “The devil is a liar.” [14] Know who you’re dealing with! When things fall apart, grieve. Honor your losses, but don’t get stuck in grief… Look up. Take Christ’s hand, and never lose hope.

Mary Oliver rejoiced in revelation. These are her words.

I will sing for the veil that never lifts.

I will sing for the veil that begins, once in a lifetime,

maybe, to lift.

I will sing for the rent in the veil.

I will sing for what is in front of the veil,

the floating light.

I will sing for what is behind the veil –

light, light and more light. [15]

In the name of the Alpha and Omega, Jesus Christ, the Lamb upon the throne. Amen.

1 The reason that straight pride events are generally ridiculous is this: nowhere on earth has it ever been illegal to be heterosexual. LGBTQ people have faced persecution, violence and legal oppression in virtually every part of the world.

2 Chantelle Billson, “Man trolls ‘Hetero Awesome Fest ’attendees with pro-trans song before being booted out” The Pink News, June 25, 2025, accessed online at < https://www.thepinknews.com/2025/06/25/man-trolls-hetero-awesome-fest-attendees-with-pro-trans-song-before-beingbooted-out/> (June 26, 2025)

3 Ibid.

4 Ibid.

5 Revelation means reveal, lay bare, expose, unveil, truth-telling

6 Rev. Elder Mona West, PhD., “The End or the Beginning?” MCC Advent Reflections, November 2018, accessed online at < https://myemail.constantcontact.com/First-Sunday-of-Advent--by-Rev--Elder-Mona-West--PhD.html?soid=1101747410130&aid=6b3_jrT8xBU> (June 26, 2025)

7 Stephen Sondheim, A Little Night Music, 1973. lyrics accessed online at
<https://www.allmusicals.com/lyrics/littlenightmusic/everydayalittledeath.htm> (June 24, 2025)

8 Sarah Fortinsky, “3 in 4 say democracy facing serious threat: Survey” The Hill, July 1, 2025 accessed online at < https://thehill.com/homenews/campaign/5378883-democracy-serious-threat-survey/> (July 1, 2025)

9 Walter Brueggemann, “The City as Container” May 3, 2023, accessed online at (June 20, 2025)

10 Ibid.

11 Ross Douthat and Peter Thiel, “Peter Thiel and the Antichrist” The New York Times, video interview (June 26, 2025) < https://www.nytimes.com/video/opinion/100000010244372/peter-thiel-and-the-antichrist.html>

12 “Revelation” by Flannery O’Connor (complete short story), 1964. Trigger warning: Racist language. < https://andrewmbailey.com/oconnor_revelation.pdf>

13 Rev. Elder Velma Garcia, Metropolitan Community Churches

14 < https://www.reddit.com/r/worldbuilding/comments/zb1uhb/quotes_and_proverbs_about_demons_and_devils/ >

15 from “Work” by Mary Oliver, The Leaf and the Cloud, Grand Central Publishing, 2001.

Sermon 06.22.2025: Revelation as Resistance: Unveiling the Empire

Sun, 22 Jun 2025 22:38:43 GMT

The book of Revelation includes scary beasts with horns and special marks with numbers revealing who they are. But rather than foretelling future events, what if they were unveiling current rulers and empires who preyed on their people? Let us slay the beasts of oppression and injustice as we resist the empire and embrace the reign of God!

Scripture

Revelation 13:1-18, 17:1-6

1 And I saw a beast rising out of the sea, having ten horns and seven heads; and on its horns were ten diadems, and on its heads were blasphemous names. 2 And the beast that I saw was like a leopard, its feet were like a bear’s, and its mouth was like a lion’s mouth. And the dragon gave it his power and his throne and great authority. 3 One of its heads seemed to have received a death-blow, but its mortal wound[a] had been healed. In amazement the whole earth followed the beast. 4 They worshipped the dragon, for he had given his authority to the beast, and they worshipped the beast, saying, ‘Who is like the beast, and who can fight against it?’

5 The beast was given a mouth uttering haughty and blasphemous words, and it was allowed to exercise authority for forty-two months. 6 It opened its mouth to utter blasphemies against God, blaspheming his name and his dwelling, that is, those who dwell in heaven. 7 Also, it was allowed to make war on the saints and to conquer them.[b] It was given authority over every tribe and people and language and nation, 8 and all the inhabitants of the earth will worship it, everyone whose name has not been written from the foundation of the world in the book of life of the Lamb that was slaughtered.

9 Let anyone who has an ear listen:

10 If you are to be taken captive,

into captivity you go;

if you kill with the sword,

with the sword you must be killed.

Here is a call for the endurance and faith of the saints.

11 Then I saw another beast that rose out of the earth; it had two horns like a lamb and it spoke like a dragon. 12 It exercises all the authority of the first beast on its behalf, and it makes the earth and its inhabitants worship the first beast, whose mortal wound[d] had been healed. 13 It performs great signs, even making fire come down from heaven to earth in the sight of all; 14 and by the signs that it is allowed to perform on behalf of the beast, it deceives the inhabitants of earth, telling them to make an image for the beast that had been wounded by the sword[e] and yet lived; 15 and it was allowed to give breath[f] to the image of the beast, so that the image of the beast could even speak and cause those who would not worship the image of the beast to be killed. 16 Also it causes all, both small and great, both rich and poor, both free and slave, to be marked on the right hand or the forehead, 17 so that no one can buy or sell who does not have the mark, that is, the name of the beast or the number of its name. 18 This calls for wisdom: let anyone with understanding calculate the number of the beast, for it is the number of a person. Its number is six hundred and sixty-six.

17 Then one of the seven angels who had the seven bowls came and said to me, ‘Come, I will show you the judgement of the great whore who is seated on many waters, 2 with whom the kings of the earth have committed fornication, and with the wine of whose fornication the inhabitants of the earth have become drunk.’ 3 So he carried me away in the spirit[a] into a wilderness, and I saw a woman sitting on a scarlet beast that was full of blasphemous names, and it had seven heads and ten horns. 4 The woman was clothed in purple and scarlet, and adorned with gold and jewels and pearls, holding in her hand a golden cup full of abominations and the impurities of her fornication; 5 and on her forehead was written a name, a mystery: ‘Babylon the great, mother of whores and of earth’s abominations.’ 6 And I saw that the woman was drunk with the blood of the saints and the blood of the witnesses to Jesus.

When I saw her, I was greatly amazed.

Sermon

About this time last year, I preached a sermon entitled: "Daniel's Four Beasts of the Apocalypse" using the text from Daniel 7. I’m not quite sure why I keep getting assigned scripture with fantastical beasts in them; I’ll need to take that up with the Holy Spirit, but here we are.

And I suppose it was good preparation for today’s sermon because many of the commentaries suggested that we consult Daniel 7 as a Hebrew scripture accompaniment to this Revelation passage. In Daniel, we learned that apocalyptic writings were not predicting the future, but rather critiquing the present. They are revealing and uncovering what is unjust in society at the present time, using imagery and allegory. That’s what apocalypse means after all – to unveil or to uncover. And so we get these nightmarish beasts.

In Daniel there were four of them, and they represented the empires of Babylon, Media, Persia and the Greeks. In Revelation, we find a dragon that helps animate a beast that looks like a combo of a leopard, a bear, and a lion. There’s another beast that has horns like a lamb and speaks like a dragon. And then, I quote, “the great whore” that is seated on a scarlet beast.

Have I mentioned that I’m so glad to be preaching on all this apocalyptic literature?

But much like the great monsters of our time that represent some of our greatest fears as a society today, for example: Godzilla as a metaphor for nuclear weapons—these beasts are also representations of real, though not literal, fears.

Now, it is generally accepted by biblical scholars that these beasts which John of Patmos writes about also represents an empire, like they did in Daniel. And this time, these beasts are the Empire of Rome and its various emperors.

The dragon that is mentioned, that seems to control and give power to these beasts, is thought to be the very enemy of God, sometimes personified in scripture as Sa-tan. This is not a name, per-se, but a word in Hebrew which means “adversary.”

So, John of Patmos, in his big revelation, sees, that the Roman Empire, under which they are subjugated, is controlled, not by God, but by the enemy of God. This would have been highly controversial because Roman emperors were thought to be the quote “sons of God” with the divine right to rule.

So, claiming otherwise would have been a threat to the empire. What John unveils is that the empire, no matter how much it claims to be blessed by God or ordained by God, is actually not an instrument of God at all, but a force of evil in the world.

Furthermore, many scholars believe that the number of the beast, 666, is a coded reference to one particular Roman Emperor, the Emperor Nero. You see, Hebrew didn’t use numbers, neither Roman numerals or Arabic numerals. Instead, they used the Hebrew alphabet to represent numbers.

And so, due to the numerological equivalent of Nero's name with the Hebrew alphabet, we get the number of the beast: 666. So, turns out, this big, scary, evil number, that made it into pop culture and horror films, is really just a code name.

As you can see, Revelation requires some decoding. And when we say we have to read scripture within its historical and cultural context, this is what we mean! We take the Bible very seriously here at Calvary, but that doesn’t mean we take the Bible literally because taking the Bible literally is sometimes the exact opposite of what its original writers may have intended.

So in Revelation 13 and 17, we are unveiling the empire for what it is:

The empire claims to be appointed by God, but it actually is not of God.

People worship the empire, but it is an idol.

The empire uses violence and force to demand obedience and allegiance.

It is able to deceive and fool many, because it can accomplish a lot in a short amount of time, but its success is dependent on exploiting its most vulnerable members and bulldozing (or crucifying) any and all those who dissent.

Paul Dazet, a pastor in the Church of the Nazarene, writes this about Revelation 17 as it refers to Babylon:

Babylon is a pattern, not a place.

John [of Patmos] never says “Rome.” He says, “Babylon.”

Because Rome is just the latest empire to demand loyalty, worship, and silence.

Babylon is the script empires always follow:

Take what you want

Speak untruth

Glorify violence

Silence dissent

Enforce conformity

Reward wealth

Marginalize the vulnerable

Sound familiar?

Babylon didn’t disappear.

It just keeps putting on new costumes:

Rome, Nazi Germany, Christian Nationalism.

Babylon is a pattern, not a place.

A pattern repeating over and over.

The same cycle.

The same empire games.

The same dragon pulling the strings.

John’s message still speaks:

Don’t be fooled.

You live in Babylon.

Whew. If you’re anything like me, this reading of Revelation blew my mind.

That is powerful stuff. And I think most of us find that it rings quite true of our current situation today.

We are indeed living in a modern incarnation of Babylon. We are living in an empire that follows that very same script: to take what you want, to tell lies, to glorify violence and militarism, to silence dissent, and to enforce conformity, to reward billionaires, and to marginalize and disappear the vulnerable.

As we read through the Book of Revelation, we learn that we are living in an imperialist America. An America that says, “We are the land of opportunity, unless you’re running from violence, poverty, or war, then please, stay out of our country and stop draining our resources.”

An America that says, “We are strong and mighty, and our military is the greatest in the world, but we have veterans who are homeless and who can now be denied healthcare.”

An America that insists we are peacemakers and a moral compass for the world, but participates in bombing nations and escalating conflicts.

The Book of Revelation uncovers for us and unveils for us, that the greatness of a nation or an empire is not found in its wealth or power or military might. It’s not even found in its popularity and how many people come to worship or adore its leaders.

Rather, as Mahatma Ghandi is attributed to saying: “The greatness of a nation can be measured by how it treats its weakest members.”

Wess Daniels, a Quaker theologian, writes that the Book of Revelation is about:

how small minority faith communities resist empire.

It’s a letter that’s written … about how to survive and resist, how to not become like the Empire. It helps us see, what are the kinds of practices that you would have to do to resist assimilating into empire? [1]

Because as those who follow Jesus, our marching orders are not the same as the empire’s marching orders.

And perhaps because we are follower of Jesus, we can see that the empire’s promises are empty and its glory a false façade.

After all, we worship a God who proclaimed:

Blessed are the poor in spirit …

Blessed are those who mourn …

Blessed are the meek … the merciful … the peacemakers … and

Blessed are [even] those who are persecuted” (Matthew 5:1-12).

And we have the audacity to believe that Jesus was speaking truth, even in this upside-down, radical message.

Friends, we resist anyone or anything that tells us that God’s love does not encompass all people; that some are more deserving than others of life, liberty, or the pursuit of happiness.

We will not stand for the scapegoating of LGBTQIA+ persons, or the immigrants and refugees among us.

This is not politics. This is the Book of Revelation. The gospel or “good news” as it were.

But we also know that what we resist is great at deception; it is sparkly and well-adorned, attractive to so many. Some will even ask ‘Who is like the beast, and who can fight against it?’ and perhaps that is a form of worship and reverence, but perhaps that is also a form of cynicism and tired surrender.

When we give up; when we feel like there’s no point in resistance, that, too, feeds the beasts.

So keep your hearts tender. Practice love by loving your neighbor: those neighbors sitting next to you in the pews and those neighbors who are detained in detention centers.

Valerie Kaur, a Sikh civil rights activist and author of See No Stranger, shared this this week:

Last night at the Federal Building where they are caging our loved ones, we came with flowers.

“We come here with flowers.

And we will keep coming here with flowers.

As long as you hold our people in those cages –

we will come here with flowers.

With our ancestors at our backs –

we will come here with flowers.

With love as our guide –

we will come here with flowers.

With the eyes of a sage and heart of a warrior –

we will come here with flowers.

As long as we breathe — we will come here with flowers.

Until we are all free – we will come here with flowers.

As long as you are HERE, and they are THERE [our loved ones in this building]—we will come here with flowers.”

Every Wednesday, at 6pm in La Placita, CA, outside the Federal Building, a group will gather and hold vigil, bringing with them, flowers. Flowers offered in love to those who are caged. Flowers in response to riot gear and billy clubs.

Flowers in contrast to tear gas and weapons.

Friends, we cannot resist the Empire by using the same tools of the Empire. We will turn swords into plowshares; bombs into flowers; and hate into love.

The work is hard and countercultural. But we are not alone.

As I shared in the welcome: Remember: Resistance is not a solitary endeavor.

It only survives in the arms of the collective. And I would add in the arms of God. May it be so, Amen.

1 https://kairoscenter.org/wess-daniels-revelation-as-resistance/

Sermon 06.15.2025: Revelation as Resistance

Sun, 15 Jun 2025 18:33:21 GMT

This week we will begin a sermon series on the Book of Revelation. It is often used by Christians to predict future events, but it wasn't written for that purpose.

The Book of Revelation was written to call people to resist the Roman Empire. It carries on the tradition of 'apocalypse' which is Greek for 'revelation'. In apocalyptic literature, God reveals, or makes clear, how to respond to the world in which we find ourselves. But it is written in a way that obscures the message from the people who it critiques.

Scripture

Revelation: 1: 1-20

The revelation of Jesus Christ, which God gave him to show his servants* what must soon take place; he made* it known by sending his angel to his servant* John, who testified to the word of God and to the testimony of Jesus Christ, even to all that he saw.

Blessed is the one who reads aloud the words of the prophecy, and blessed are those who hear and who keep what is written in it; for the time is near.

John to the seven churches that are in Asia:

Grace to you and peace from him who is and who was and who is to come, and from the seven spirits who are before his throne, and from Jesus Christ, the faithful witness, the firstborn of the dead, and the ruler of the kings of the earth.

To him who loves us and freed* us from our sins by his blood, and made* us to be a kingdom, priests serving* his God and Father, to him be glory and dominion for ever and ever. Amen.

Look! He is coming with the clouds;

every eye will see him,

even those who pierced him;

and on his account all the tribes of the earth will wail.

So it is to be. Amen.

‘I am the Alpha and the Omega’, says the Lord God, who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty.

I, John, your brother who share with you in Jesus the persecution and the kingdom and the patient endurance, was on the island called Patmos because of the word of God and the testimony of Jesus.* I was in the spirit* on the Lord’s day, and I heard behind me a loud voice like a trumpet saying, ‘Write in a book what you see and send it to the seven churches, to Ephesus, to Smyrna, to Pergamum, to Thyatira, to Sardis, to Philadelphia, and to Laodicea.’

Then I turned to see whose voice it was that spoke to me, and on turning I saw seven golden lampstands, and in the midst of the lampstands I saw one like the Son of Man, clothed with a long robe and with a golden sash across his chest. His head and his hair were white as white wool, white as snow; his eyes were like a flame of fire, his feet were like burnished bronze, refined as in a furnace, and his voice was like the sound of many waters. In his right hand he held seven stars, and from his mouth came a sharp, two-edged sword, and his face was like the sun shining with full force.

When I saw him, I fell at his feet as though dead. But he placed his right hand on me, saying, ‘Do not be afraid; I am the first and the last, and the living one. I was dead, and see, I am alive for ever and ever; and I have the keys of Death and of Hades. Now write what you have seen, what is, and what is to take place after this. As for the mystery of the seven stars that you saw in my right hand, and the seven golden lampstands: the seven stars are the angels of the seven churches, and the seven lampstands are the seven churches.

Sermon

We are beginning a sermon series of the Book of Revelation today. And I’m going to confess to you that this book never made sense to me until right now, until this moment our country is living in.

The current administration has, over the past 5 months, been eroding, and then bulldozing over checks and balances, firing non-partisan government employees—the ones who keep things running for all of us, and seeing how far they can go with their lawlessness before people will stop them.

It has been demoralizing to see how much of the country thinks it is fine to deport and disappear immigrants without any due process. It is depressing that a portion of our fellow citizens believe it is fine for the president to act like a king, ignoring congress, ignoring the courts, using the military against US citizens, cities, and states.

It is into just such a world that Revelation was written. The Greek word for revelation is apocalypse. And that word conjures up lots for us in English, but the word Revelation is not about future/end time/final battle/destruction, as we think of when we hear the word apocalypse. At its root, it simply means to unveil or to reveal.

The Book of Revelation does not reveal a secret plan for future destruction. It reveals how to live in a world with current destruction.

It hearkens back to Hebrew bible books like Daniel and Ezekiel.

There are times in History when we need a Revelation from God because things are not clear. Ancient Babylon, or Assyria, or Rome, or other small-minded tyrants with big armies show up and muddy the water so we cannot see truth clearly.

They tell us that what we know to be true is false and that anyone who disagrees with them is lying. They claim they have a mandate from God, even if everything we know about God is other than what they say. They claim they do what they do out of love for the country, even as they tear at the very fabric that holds the country together. They claim immigrants don’t follow the rules, but then they round them up in courthouses where they are following the rules. They claim immigrants are lazy and a drain on our resources because they don’t want to work, but then they arrest them when they are working in our fields, washing dishes in our restaurants, and cleaning our hotel rooms.

Our Brief Statement of Faith says it this way: Ignoring God's commandments, we violate the image of God in others and ourselves, accept lies as truth, exploit neighbor and nature, and threaten death to the planet entrusted to our care.

I’m both depressed and comforted that this is not a new situation in which we find ourselves. We are not the first people who need a revelation from God. Sadly, we won’t be the last ones.

It is also worth noting that there are populations on the margins of society who have always been living in this space of violence and dislocation. While we seek to hold our elected representatives to higher ideals, it is worth noting and confessing that the very structures of our society benefit people who look like me. While it is right to protest now, we recognize there are groups of our fellow citizens wondering why we haven’t been protesting for the last 200 plus years.

We need a revelation from God.

We are people who seek to be faithful in unfaithful times. And we need help.

So we turn to this book written by John on the island of Patmos. An angel gave him a vision from God. That’s about everything we know about him. It was written around 95 CE. Scholars are divided about the political context he was in. Was he exiled there? Was there persecution from Rome or someone else?

It does seem likely that there was some sort of persecution, because like the apocalyptic literature from the Hebrew bible, this revelation was not written as clearly as we might like a revelation to be. A function of apocalyptic literature is to keep information hidden from the people in power even as it is clear to those who need it. The symbols and imagery obscure information from Rome, or whoever is the oppressive power of the day.

For a revelation, the book doesn’t seem to unveil anything with a first reading. Seven lampstands and seven spirits. A throne. Seven stars and the son of man with a sharp mouth sword.

What?

Buckle up, friends. This is just the beginning of the imagery in Revelation.

Many of the images will not be explained, but the lamp stands are. They are the seven churches. If you put them on a map, they would make a circle around Asia Minor, or what is today mainly Turkey. Seven is a number of completeness. The seven churches stand for all of us, it is the church in its differences and in its completeness.

And the seven stars are the angels standing over each of the churches. We don’t talk about angels a lot, outside of the Advent stories of angels appearing to Mary, etc. But the word angel in greek means messenger. These are divine messengers. And so there is a sense that they are both bringing messages from God and delivering news to God, as they watch over the church like stars.

I find that a comforting image and challenging image right now. I want angels to watch over us. I’d like them to only report back to God the good things though. Not sure how to make that happen.

Much of the imagery will not be explained because that is how poetry works. Language is always symbolic. It takes sounds and puts them together in ways that we can understand each other but it can’t make meaning be the same. The value of poetry is to give us language that connects to our other senses, and to our imaginations.

Voices are described poetically in this passage. John could have said he heard a loud voice, but he said he heard a loud voice like a trumpet . That evokes different images in your mind when you add the trumpet. I picture heralds announcing news from a king, or I hear loud symphonic overtures. It is different than saying someone was yelling at you. Then the voice is described like the sound of many waters . That is also a loud voice, but very different than a trumpet. More like the din of Niagara Falls, which takes over your whole mind with the different sounds and tumult of the water crashing, images of the mist rising, and the feeling of the water in the air, covering your skin, your hair, your clothes.

The benefit of less literal language is it helps us hear truth more clearly. Because tyrants lie using literal language. Poetry doesn’t lie.

But it also isn’t always clear.

And we are all a product of the enlightenment, when they mystery and ‘hocus pocus’ of the medieval church was replaced with rationality. And we equate the things we can see, hear, touch for truth. Often that is a mistake.

I’m reading a book called “Caring for Words in a Culture of Lies” and in it, the author Marilyn McEntyre writes this about truth.

“Truth is elusive.

Truth avoids institutional control.

Truth tugs at conventional syntax.

Truth hovers at the edge of the visual field.

Truth is relational.

Truth lives in the library and on the subway and on the internet, if you look carefully.

Truth is not two-sided; it’s many sided.

Truth burrows in the body.

Truth flickers.

Truth comes on little cat feet and slips down back alleys.

Truth doesn’t always test well.

Truth invites you back for another look.”

In other words, truth requires mystery. Truth requires something more than cliche, jargon, and reassuring absolutes. Truth requires a confirmation from the heart.

I’m not opposed to the Enlightenment. It did a lot to liberate us from institutions like church and state that were using mystery to excuse themselves from responsibility. “I’m king because God made me king. Trust me on that!” But maybe we threw out the baby with the proverbial bathwater. What we know and sense and can prove is important, but if that’s all there is, it leaves us feeling isolated and alone when we can’t explain and prove and understand the chaos of the world around us.

One of the challenges in reading Revelation with our Enlightenment mindset is that it requires us to hold on loosely to things we think we are certain about, to not attempt to read it literally, to look for the truth of it slant, as Emily Dickinson instructs.

John receives a message from the Son of Man. This is a term from the book of Daniel. The gospel writers have Jesus using that language as a central part of his message. When Jesus in the gospels refers to the Son of Man, he is referring to a cosmic judge of the earth who would come at the end of history to destroy all the evil forces of the world. After this day of judgement, the Son of Man would usher in a new kingdom on earth. [1]

We’re told this about the Son of Man in Revelation: “from his mouth came a sharp, two edged sword.” If you read that literally, ouch. But what if, instead, it makes us think that the words we say can cut. Our words matter. And they can cut for good or for ill. The words coming from the Son of Man will cut like good news for some and bad news for others.

John sees the image of the Son of Man, shining like the sun with his sharp mouth sword, and falls to his feet as though dead. You can take that part literally. I am certain that if I saw that vision, I too, would fall to the ground.

But the Son of Man has a message for John:

‘Do not be afraid; I am the first and the last, and the living one. I was dead, and see, I am alive for ever and ever; and I have the keys of Death and of Hades.'

Earlier in the vision, God tells John that God is the Alpha and the Omega. That fits with what the son of Man says about being first and last. Alpha is the first letter in the Greek alphabet. Omega is the final letter. Your bulletin cover includes the Alpha and the Omega from our chapel windows.

The revelation that will unfold in the Book of Revelation is that God was there at the beginning. God will be there at the end. God is there with us in the messy middle. There is no place you can go where God is not. There is no experience you can have where God is not. God is our alpha and our omega, the first and the last, the dead who lives for ever and ever.

As the psalmist says in the 139th psalm, many generations before Revelation was written:

O Lord, you have searched me and known me.

You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from far away. You search out my path and my lying down, and are acquainted with all my ways.

Even before a word is on my tongue, O Lord, you know it completely.

You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me.

Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is so high that I cannot attain it.

Where can I go from your spirit? Or where can I flee from your presence?

If I ascend to heaven, you are there; if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there.

If I take the wings of the morning and settle at the farthest limits of the sea, even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me fast.

When you are stuck on the island of Patmos, God is with you.

When you face a scary medical diagnosis, God is with you.

When you face government agents seeking to deport you, God is with you.

Whatever we face in life, God is with us. We may be living in the now, and maybe this moment is better for some of us than for others. But God is in all the time frames, past, present, and future. Alpha and omega. Beginning and end.

Yet God is not a genie in a bottle who magically makes everything better. God does not bulldoze their way into our world, even if there were moments we might wish for a little smiting against our enemies.

Instead, God reminds us of the bigger picture than the moment we are in, and calls us to resist the lies, to resist the greed, to resist the cruelty. Because Rome only wins if we let her.

The revelation from God is there is no place, no moment, no situation in our lives where God is not, so we best be on the lookout for where God is in those moments when we feel bereft of God’s presence.

That was the lie Rome wanted John on Patmos to feel—that he was alone, that God had forsaken him.

To be people of faith is to live in tension. We are people in the world. We participate in the world around us. It pays our salaries. We pay our bills. We vote and engage in the political process. But we are also people who look to God, people who hold different values than the world around us holds. We live in the world without capitulating to its lies, its cruelty, its inhumanity.

The Book of Revelation, with all of its weird and fantastical imagery, calls us to resist those things around us that are opposed to God, to seek God’s spirit of truth in a culture of lies.

The author Arundhati Roy writes [2] this:

“Our strategy should be not only to confront empire, but to lay siege to it. To deprive it of oxygen. To shame it. To mock it. With our art, our music, our literature, our stubbornness, our joy, our brilliance, our sheer relentlessness – and our ability to tell our own stories. Stories that are different from the ones we’re being brainwashed to believe.

Remember this: We be many and they be few. They need us more than we need them.

Another world is not only possible, she is on her way. On a quiet day, I can hear her breathing.”

Another world is on her way, friends. Let us listen for her breathing as we stand together, imagining new worlds, looking for God in the midst of it all.

Amen.

1 https://ehrmanblog.org/at-last-jesus-and-the-son-of-man/

2 https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/292642-our-strategy-should-be-not-only-to-confront-empire-but

Sermon 06.08.2025: A Spirit of Adoption

Sun, 08 Jun 2025 01:59:21 GMT

The story of Pentecost is a story of adoption. God takes strangers and makes them family. And while adoption is good news for those of us who experience it, that good news doesn't make it easy. God brings strangers together and makes them family, but God doesn't make us all the same. We are adopted into God's family with all of our differences and our disagreements. How can we celebrate the differences between us, rather than using them as wedges to divide us?

Scripture

Acts 2:1-4

When the day of Pentecost came, they were all together in one place. Suddenly a sound like the blowing of a violent wind came from heaven and filled the whole house where they were sitting. They saw what seemed to be tongues of fire that separated and came to rest on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues[a] as the Spirit enabled them.

Galatians 4:1-7

What I am saying is that as long as an heir is underage, he is no different from a slave, although he owns the whole estate. The heir is subject to guardians and trustees until the time set by his father. So also, when we were underage, we were in slavery under the elemental spiritual forces[a] of the world. But when the set time had fully come, God sent his Son, born of a woman, born under the law, to redeem those under the law, that we might receive adoption to sonship.[b] Because you are his sons, God sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, the Spirit who calls out, “Abba,[c] Father.” So you are no longer a slave, but God’s child; and since you are his child, God has made you also an heir.

Sermon

Today we celebrate the birthday of the church, as we remember the day the Spirit descended and helped a bunch of disparate Jesus followers coalesce and come together with one purpose—to proclaim the good news of God, regardless of language difficulty, regardless of geographic differences, regardless of political affiliation.

The Spirit brings them together.

With one purpose.

And the church is born.

We celebrate that. We give thanks all these years later, we can mark an anniversary, remember the beginning, when we were united in one purpose to proclaim the good news, and to be witnesses to the end of the earth, even to San Francisco.

But it is also appropriate for us to mark this nearly 2,000th birthday of the church with an open assessment of where we are today.

Because no matter how healthy this particular congregation is, and I think we’re actually doing pretty well , we acknowledge hard to see one purpose around which all of Christ’s followers come together despite our differences.

I don’t see many instances of Judeans gathering together with conservative evangelicals, or Cappodocians in the same room with Lutherans from the part of Libya belonging to Cyrene when I look around at the church at large.

We fracture along lines of politics, theology, doctrine, culture, race, class, language, and geography.

It is the tension inherent in Pentecost. The Spirit brings us together, but doesn’t make us all the same. We continually need the Spirit as we struggle to seek understanding through our differences.

I haven’t really spent much time in a room like the one described on Pentecost, where the sound of a violent wind knocked everything off the shelves and singed people’s hair, leaving them able to understand the others in the room, the people who, moments before, were unintelligible because of language differences.

But I will say that when I take the time to have a conversation with someone with whom I disagree about something, if I can set aside my defensiveness, I can usually hear what is under the topic of the conversation. If I really listen, I can hear their language of fear, or worry, or love—even if it comes to a different conclusion than my fear, worry, or love does.

Often, we want to pray the other person will start speaking the RIGHT language, would have the CORRECT understanding, rather than praying for a sense of understanding to come among us, despite our different languages.

Often, we fear diversity, we fear difference, we distrust those who hold other viewpoints.

I wonder if the Pentecost story could even happen today in our country, as we surround ourselves only with people who speak our own languages, whether literally or metaphorically. Do we rule out an experience of the Spirit as we saw at Pentecost by our refusal to tolerate difference?

Because there isn’t a need for the Spirit to come bring understanding to a room full of people who already understand each other.

Is there?

Someone was talking about the importance of diversity, and she used the illustration of cornbread. She writes: “It’s like making cornbread. You need meal, you need flour, you need baking powder, you need eggs. You need to put all those ingredients together to make that cornbread. You can’t do anything if you keep them separate.” [1]

Diversity of belief, of skin color, of sexual orientation, of politics—that isn’t a weakness we have to overcome. It is the recipe for our success.

The miracle of Pentecost wasn’t unity or fancy new languages. It was not a miracle of the Spirit showing up, pointing to the one person with the right doctrine and theology and language and saying, “Okay, everyone, now you’re going to speak his language and be just like that guy.”

The miracle of Pentecost is one of understanding across divides. It maintained diversity and the sources of our disagreement and misunderstandings and prejudices. It overcame those with understanding.

And we need Pentecost today, more than ever. Because the powers of this world want us divided. They want us to not listen to each other, to not understand each other. They want us to listen to them, and their small, narrow understanding of what it means to be a people. We must imagine better than that.

The book of Acts, from which the Pentecost story comes, reminds us that nationalism in any form is not what God seeks for the world. Willie Jennings, in their commentary on Acts, writes: “God from the very beginning of the Acts drama will not share holy desire with any nationalistic longing that draws borders and boundaries. The Holy Spirit will break open what we want closed and shatter our strategies of protectionism for the sake of a saving God who will give back to us precisely what we cannot hold onto with our own efforts and power….”

We need Pentecost.

After Pentecost, we all still get to remain our unique and different selves.

After Pentecost, we are reminded that understanding is possible, and it is up to us to seek out and demand that blessing from the Spirit.

We also heard a passage this morning from Paul’s letter to the Galatians, about how we are adopted into the family of God.

“But when the fullness of time had come, God sent their Son, born of a woman, born under the law, in order to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as children. And because you are children, God has sent the Spirit of their Son into our hearts, crying, ‘Abba! Father! ‘So you are no longer a slave but a child, and if a child then also an heir, through God.”

This isn’t a Pentecost story, exactly. It doesn’t refer to a particular anniversary in the life of the church. Paul reminds us, though, that the Holy Spirit didn’t only show up that one day, when the early church was gathered in a room. The Spirit arrives again, and again, and again.

In Galatians, the miracle of the Spirit is to make us family, heirs of God. As many of you know, adoption is a big part of my life story. The idea of people becoming adopted into God’s family is something I understand very well, and something for which I am very grateful.

Adoption, though, always requires people to learn new languages. My adopted family loves me deeply. They always have. Their love doesn’t make us similar in all ways.

I’m a morning person. The rest of them would sleep until noon if schedules allowed. That’s just one of many illustrations, but living together in a family of adoption requires you to learn the language, the habits, the traits of the other people in your family. I have always felt like I was on a somewhat different wavelength than they were all on, somehow often a step off from them.

My family had the shared language of experience, of life lived together, and that helped the translation issues a bit. I started to see that more clearly as I met people from my birth family. There are so many things about my birth family that seem familiar and comfortable, but without a life lived together, there is translation required there too.

Even if your family doesn’t have adoption as part of it, you have likely also experienced the challenge of loving people who may see the world very differently than you do. Even biological families can have great difference within them, as adopted families always do.

And so the miracle of being made part of God’s family is one I appreciate more and more each year. Later this summer will mark my fifth anniversary of being here as your pastor. And you have welcomed me as family. To be loved enough to be made family is a sacred gift.

Our experiences with our earthly families are each different, and all are complicated in their own ways. God sent the Son, that we might be adopted into God’s family, and God sent the Spirit into our hearts, to give us new language through which we understand our relationship to God and to each other, so that we can do the work to heal our earthly families.

At this past week’s session meeting, your elders spent time talking about how to deepen community here at Calvary. Our relationships with other people at church are a crucial part to our experience of church. Like adoption, we are made family by choice, by coming together from our different origins, to be church family together.

And it is shared experiences that help us overcome our translation issues. Time spent together—at coffee hour, on the church retreat, in prayer and bible study, volunteering at the food pantry, marching at PRIDE, or gathering around a table at a meal—that time spent together makes us like the Acts story, when we gather together so the Holy Spirit can blow through and bring us the understanding that can help us remember God has made us family for each other.

Over the coming year, the session is going to invite you into some new ways of coming together in the life of the church. We’re excited about how that might look and hope you will be too. But it will require a bit of a culture shift. It will require you to think about how you schedule your time. Are you willing to commit to engaging more deeply in relationship at church? I hope you’ll think and pray about that over the summer.

Here’s a poem by Jan Richardson that has been speaking to me all week.

When We Breathe Together

A Blessing for Pentecost Day

This is the blessing

we cannot speak by ourselves.

This is the blessing

we cannot summon

by our own devices,

cannot shape

to our purpose,

cannot bend

to our will.

This is the blessing

that comes

when we leave behind

our aloneness

when we gather

together

when we turn

toward one another.

This is the blessing

that blazes among us

when we speak

the words

strange to our ears

when we finally listen

into the chaos

when we breathe together

at last.

The miracle of Pentecost wasn’t only in the moment where they understood each other. It was the blessing of being together with different and interesting people, and not having to try to all be exactly the same.

What would happen if we were open to that kind of blessing?

For me, today, the gift of the Pentecost story is adoption. The creation of a new family, made up of different, disparate people. On Pentecost, the Spirit of God was poured out on all flesh, but it didn’t make them all the same.

It is one of the many things I so appreciate about you. You have fun together. You seek to welcome people without expecting them to pass a litmus test. You seek to be your authentic selves too, trying to allow individual expression and not let differences get in the way of loving each other.

Catherine of Sienna is quoted as saying:

It takes courage to be who you were meant to be.

It takes courage to allow others to live into who they were meant to be too.

This is Pride month, when we celebrate how god made us in a diversity of gender identity and sexual orientation. Pride is an adoption story, as it is also a protest story. With Pride, we protest injustice and discrimination against our LGBTQIA+ loved ones. We also celebrate the ways we adopt each other as families, especially when our own families translation problems are too big to solve. I will always be willing to give ‘free mom hugs’ at Pride. I also pray for the day when everyone can be hugged by their own mom.

Today is also World Refugee Day. I hope you can stay after coffee hour for a conversation with our guests about what it means to need adoption in not just a new family, but in an entirely new country.

It takes courage to open yourself to understanding someone else’s perspective.

So pray for the Spirit to come, to bring us together, to give us understanding in our differences, to remind us we’re family, and to set the world on pentecost fire.

Amen.

1 https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/ng-interactive/2025/jun/01/united-states-polarization?CMP=oth_b-aplnews_d-1

Sermon 06.01.2025: Breaking Bread: Tentmakers in Hospitality

Sun, 01 Jun 2025 19:01:42 GMT

This week's story from the Book of Acts speaks of the importance of hospitality when life is difficult and dangerous. Where does God call the church to be when people are facing exile, persecution, and danger?

Scripture

Acts 18:1-11

After this Paul left Athens and went to Corinth. There he found a Jew named Aquila, a native of Pontus, who had recently come from Italy with his wife Priscilla, because Claudius had ordered all Jews to leave Rome. Paul went to see them, and, because he was of the same trade, he stayed with them, and they worked together—by trade they were tentmakers. Every sabbath he would argue in the synagogue and would try to convince Jews and Greeks.

When Silas and Timothy arrived from Macedonia, Paul was occupied with proclaiming the word, testifying to the Jews that the Messiah was Jesus. When they opposed and reviled him, in protest he shook the dust from his clothes and said to them, ‘Your blood be on your own heads! I am innocent. From now on I will go to the Gentiles.’ Then he left the synagogue and went to the house of a man named Titius Justus, a worshipper of God; his house was next door to the synagogue. Crispus, the official of the synagogue, became a believer in the Lord, together with all his household; and many of the Corinthians who heard Paul became believers and were baptized. One night the Lord said to Paul in a vision, ‘Do not be afraid, but speak and do not be silent; for I am with you, and no one will lay a hand on you to harm you, for there are many in this city who are my people.’ He stayed there for a year and six months, teaching the word of God among them.

Sermon

This week is the final passage of our sermon series on hospitality. And this story from Acts may not be as familiar to you as some other Acts stories.

But Paul leaves Athens and heads to Corinth. Corinth had been destroyed by Rome in 144 BCE and then re-built in 44 BCE by Julius Caesar, inhabited by colonists from Rome, about 100 years before this story takes place. So it is a new city, relatively, built by an occupying force, first inhabited by the occupiers.

And it is on a strip of land that connects Greece to the Peloponnese peninsula. This strip of land also was the closest point between two bodies of water. So it is a crossroads city in every sense of the word. People from all over the mediterranean world flowed through Corinth.

And if you have read Paul’s letters to the churches in Corinth, you might recall that there was a lot of conflict, a lot of disagreement about how to be church, who to listen to, and how to get along with people who saw the world differently.

Good thing we’ve fixed all those problems, am I right?

Paul leaves Athens and heads the 50 miles or so to Corinth, where he meets Aquila and Priscilla. They were Turkish Jews who had been forced to leave Rome. They were refugees .

Claudius, it says, kicked the Jews out of Rome. But the historical record suggests that Claudius ordered the expulsion of Jews because they were following someone named Chrestus, which sounds like it could be the followers of Jesus who were causing the tension. Claudius may have been trying to expel Christians, but didn’t get the nuance of not all Jews following this Jesus guy. And many scholars think it wasn’t about religion as much as it was about expelling foreigners.

Like today, deporting all Venezuelans for being gang members, when in fact, not all Venezuelans are gang members.

Priscilla and Aquila will go on to be very important missionary leaders, taking the gospel to all sorts of places, and supporting Paul’s journeys too. But it is not clear at the start of the story if they were Jews or Christian Jews when Paul meets them. They are people who have been dislocated from their home because of an unstable caesar and his executive orders.

We are told Paul went to see them, not because they were the same faith , but because they had the same profession . Paul stayed with them, and worked with them, because they were both tentmakers.

Today in the church, a tentmaker is a pastor who makes their living outside of the congregational context. So I am not a tent maker, because you pay me a living wage and I don’t have to also do a second job. Thank you.

But many people minister as Paul did, doing something else to pay the bills.

I’d like us to consider the idea that we are all tentmakers, no matter if we identify as preachers and no matter who pays our salary. We are all called to be tentmakers.

Tents provide shelter to people who don’t have a home, or who are away from their homes, either because they like to camp or because Claudius has kicked them out of Rome as a political stunt. Tents provide hospitality and shelter from the sun, or from inclement weather.

Even when Paul wasn’t preaching, he was creating things for the world that provided shelter and welcome for people. You don’t have to be a preacher to be a tentmaker. Each of us is called to create shelter and welcome for other people.

We do that because there are people that need shelter. We also do it because there have been times when we were the people who received the shelter and welcome from other people’s tentmaking.

I don’t know this for sure, but I suspect that Priscilla and Aquila may not have had a dedicated guest wing in their home, since they had recently fled Rome after being displaced by Emperor Claudius.

I don’t know about you, but this is a helpful story for me. I think I sometimes think I will be able to be more hospitable when X, Y, or Z is in place. When I’m not so busy. When I have a bigger place. When the stars align and all is perfect in the world.

But hospitality is really what gets us through the times when all is not perfect in the world. It is how we care for each other when whatever Claudius is in the White House, and the world is disrupted.

Many of you know Lucy Bone, a high schooler from the congregation. She turned in a project for school recently, which I am sharing here with her permission, about Calvary. Quoting a TED Talk she’d listened to, she started with this: “Everyone wants a village, but no one wants to be a villager.”

In her own words, she continues: “When I was starting this project, I wanted to document a community, and I immediately thought of the community that I am a part of at my church. There, I was surrounded by people I had known my whole life, people I could ask almost anything of, and they would give it to me without a second thought. A people and community that loves me no matter how much I neglect showing up regularly on Sundays. I think that generally there is a growing lack of community in the world. It’s difficult to find the drive to talk to strangers in public spaces when you know that there’s a device at hand that can solve issues of boredom without possibility of judgement or rejection. When we seek community, we seek a place for us to grow, socialize, receive help, and build relationships.”

I think Lucy is correct. We all want a village, although maybe some of us sometime forget we need a village, but to do the work of being a villager, that is the challenge.

Priscilla and Aquila did the work of being a villager for Paul. Because they provided shelter for him, and let him work alongside them as tentmakers, he was able to ‘argue in the synagogue’ each week. Argue is a contentious word in English, but in the Greek, it really is about an open exchange of ideas. Paul would make his case for Christianity each week in the synagogue. And if you read his letters, you can see his rhetorical skills were strong.

I suspect though, that it was the community that Paul made that changed people’s hearts as much, or more than, his arguments. He stayed there for 18 months, which is a long time in Paul’s itinerant ministry.

I think there are Christians who have taken Paul’s arguing as the point of this story. We see them today, protesting against people, excluding people from faith, judging people for getting it wrong. That is a misreading of the Greek, for one thing. But more than that, it misses the call to be villagers for each other. If we’re excluding and judging people, and not welcoming them into our homes and lives, we are missing the call to provide hospitality, to make the village we live in one that supports and cares for people.

++++

We’ve all heard stories of ICE agents disappearing people from their asylum hearings around the country. And this week it happened in San Francisco, just across town from us. In addition to completely abandoning the rule of law, the sanctity of the courts and the judicial process, it also shows a complete disregard for any values we hold as Christians. This is not okay. We cannot be silent while this continues.

Also this week in San Diego, almost 3 dozen ICE agents showed up ready for battle, in full tactical gear, faces hidden by masks, to arrest restaurant workers, while people like you and I were peacefully eating dinner. The federal agents didn't expect a resounding rejection by the neighbors and patrons. The community spontaneously protested the ICE agents. ICE discharged three flash-bang grenades to disperse the crowd. The people instead pushed ICE agents out of their community forcing the vehicles to retreat.

These people were being villagers. And I’m sure some of them were a little afraid. But remember what God said to Paul: ‘Do not be afraid, but speak and do not be silent; for I am with you, and no one will lay a hand on you to harm you, for there are many in this city who are my people.’

We will not have a village at all if the government can just take any of us off the street and send us to concentration camps in other countries. These diners showed us how to be villagers, to be tentmakers, how to stand with each other and offer shelter and safety in the face of absurd cruelty and inhospitality.

++++

Friday night, almost 1,000 people were in this sanctuary for a sold-out event to listen to the author Ocean Vuong talk about his new novel, The Emperor of Gladness. Ocean came to this country as a refugee from Vietnam. His grandfather was an American GI who had married his grandmother during the Vietnam war. The grandfather had gone home to visit in the US and was there when Saigon fell and he was unable to return to Vietnam to his family. Ocean’s grandmother was worried that she and her 3, half-American daughters would be seen as collaborators. So she placed her daughters in separate orphanages, hoping that would be their best chance to not be targets of violence in a country that had received so much violence.

By the time the family was reunited many years later, Ocean’s mother had already given birth to him and was working in a salon. But a police officer recognized her as someone with mixed race, which meant she should not have been allowed to have a job. The family fled the country for their safety and eventually were granted asylum in the US, where he grew up, a child of this country who was not always welcomed by this country.

In his conversation Friday, he talked about dignity, and the importance of seeing the dignity of every person we encounter. He didn’t say this, but I suspect he learned the value of this because his own dignity has not always been recognized in either the country of his birth or in this country, where he grew up.

He reminded us that on the news, whether it’s Fox News on one side, or the Daily Show on the other side, we traffic in humiliation. We act as if our political opponents are rubes and idiots and only we have the handle on truth. He is a professor, as well as a poet and author, and he has had to teach his students to remove humiliation from their critiques of each other’s work. Because each of them is due to be treated with dignity.

He was talking about the work of being a villager in this village called life.

Hospitality is about seeing the dignity in others, about being tentmakers to offer shelter in a stormy world so their light can be seen by others.

Let us be tentmakers, one for another. Amen.

To hear a simple truth: you are a light others can see.

Sermon 05.25.2025: Breaking Bread: Healer, Healed, and Host

Sun, 25 May 2025 19:06:50 GMT

Scripture

Luke 14:1-24

Jesus at a Pharisee’s House

14 One Sabbath, when Jesus went to eat in the house of a prominent Pharisee, he was being carefully watched. 2 There in front of him was a man suffering from abnormal swelling of his body. 3 Jesus asked the Pharisees and experts in the law, “Is it lawful to heal on the Sabbath or not?” 4 But they remained silent. So taking hold of the man, he healed him and sent him on his way.

5 Then he asked them, “If one of you has a child[a] or an ox that falls into a well on the Sabbath day, will you not immediately pull it out?” 6 And they had nothing to say.

7 When he noticed how the guests picked the places of honor at the table, he told them this parable: 8 “When someone invites you to a wedding feast, do not take the place of honor, for a person more distinguished than you may have been invited. 9 If so, the host who invited both of you will come and say to you, ‘Give this person your seat.’ Then, humiliated, you will have to take the least important place. 10 But when you are invited, take the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he will say to you, ‘Friend, move up to a better place.’ Then you will be honored in the presence of all the other guests. 11 For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”

12 Then Jesus said to his host, “When you give a luncheon or dinner, do not invite your friends, your brothers or sisters, your relatives, or your rich neighbors; if you do, they may invite you back and so you will be repaid. 13 But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, 14 and you will be blessed. Although they cannot repay you, you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.”

The Parable of the Great Banquet

15 When one of those at the table with him heard this, he said to Jesus, “Blessed is the one who will eat at the feast in the kingdom of God.”

16 Jesus replied: “A certain man was preparing a great banquet and invited many guests. 17 At the time of the banquet he sent his servant to tell those who had been invited, ‘Come, for everything is now ready.’

18 “But they all alike began to make excuses. The first said, ‘I have just bought a field, and I must go and see it. Please excuse me.’

19 “Another said, ‘I have just bought five yoke of oxen, and I’m on my way to try them out. Please excuse me.’

20 “Still another said, ‘I just got married, so I can’t come.’

21 “The servant came back and reported this to his master. Then the owner of the house became angry and ordered his servant, ‘Go out quickly into the streets and alleys of the town and bring in the poor, the crippled, the blind and the lame.’

22 “‘Sir,’ the servant said, ‘what you ordered has been done, but there is still room.’

23 “Then the master told his servant, ‘Go out to the roads and country lanes and compel them to come in, so that my house will be full. 24 I tell you, not one of those who were invited will get a taste of my banquet.’”

Sermon 05.18.2025: Breaking Bread: Welcome to Sodom & Gomorrah!

Sun, 18 May 2025 23:35:43 GMT

A queer preacher takes on a notorious “clobber passage” and its history of pain and death. The sin of Sodom has nothing to do with same-sex marriage or trans children—and everything to do with willfully ignoring God's command to welcome strangers and practice hospitality. Let them know we are Christians by our love.

Scripture

Genesis 19:1-11, 15, 23-26

And there came two angels to Sodom at even; and Lot sat in the gate of Sodom: and Lot seeing them rose up to meet them; and he bowed himself with his face toward the ground;

And he said, Behold now, my lords, turn in, I pray you, into your servant’s house, and tarry all night, and wash your feet, and ye shall rise up early, and go on your ways. And they said, Nay; but we will abide in the street all night.

And he pressed upon them greatly; and they turned in unto him, and entered into his house; and he made them a feast, and did bake unleavened bread, and they did eat.

But before they lay down, the men of the city, even the men of Sodom, compassed the house round, both old and young, all the people from every quarter:

And they called unto Lot, and said unto him, Where are the men which came in to thee this night? bring them out unto us, that we may know them.

And Lot went out at the door unto them, and shut the door after him,
And said, I pray you, brethren, do not so wickedly.

Behold now, I have two daughters which have not known man; let me, I pray you, bring them out unto you, and do ye to them as is good in your eyes: only unto these men do nothing; for therefore came they under the shadow of my roof.

And they said, Stand back. And they said again, This one fellow came in to sojourn, and he will needs be a judge: now will we deal worse with thee, than with them. And they pressed sore upon the man, even Lot, and came near to break the door.

But the men put forth their hand, and pulled Lot into the house to them, and shut to the door.

And they smote the men that were at the door of the house with blindness, both small and great: so that they wearied themselves to find the door.

And when the morning arose, then the angels hastened Lot, saying, Arise, take thy wife, and thy two daughters, which are here; lest thou be consumed in the iniquity of the city.

The sun was risen upon the earth when Lot entered into Zoar.

Then the Lord rained upon Sodom and upon Gomorrah brimstone and fire from the Lord out of heaven;

And he overthrew those cities, and all the plain, and all the inhabitants of the cities, and that which grew upon the ground.

But his wife looked back from behind him, and she became a pillar of salt.

Sermon

Sodom’s Legacy in Language.

Today we examine no one’s favorite Bible story, Sodom and Gomorrah, because it is foundational in understanding hospitality as a sacred command. You’ve heard this story, or heard of it. LGBT people of faith have had to wrestle with it—and defend ourselves from it—our entire lives. What assumptions do you bring this morning? Was Sodom and Gomorrah the Folsom Street Fair’s ancient evil twin, or can this scripture challenge us to examine our behaviors and become more like Jesus?

The King James Version of today’s passage is the origin of the phrase fire and brimstone. God rains down fire and brimstone on the wicked. This has been the Almighty’s PR nightmare for millennia. I mean, wasn’t it about ten chapters ago that God set a rainbow in the sky, and promise never again to destroy the earth by flood? [1] So fire and brimstone aren’t covered? If Torah was intended [2] to glorify and inspire our trust in God, to establish God’s fame among the nations, then our interpretation of Sodom needs our prayerful attention. Another phrase made famous by today’s reading—to know someone “in the biblical sense.” Such carnal knowledge is what the violent mob of Sodom demanded of the angelic outsiders. I promise to keep this sermon family-friendly today, more so than many TV commercials or any presidential address.

Trigger Warning. The violence in today’s scripture can be triggering. My experience tells me that some of us, whether online or here in person, have experienced sexual violence. You are safe here. You are not alone. Others among us have been the object of intimidation and bullying. How I wish it were not so common, but you attended junior high. That’s where it starts. Those sophomoric urges don’t go away. As we age, we cannot avoid participating in sinful systems, many that reward exploitation. You have heard. You have seen. Here today, let there be security, hope and healing.

All people are welcome in this place. [3] Lest someone get the wrong [4] idea, rest assured that all behaviors are not. In this place, no one is welcome to violate the image of God in another of God’s children. Pastor means shepherd. Shepherds care for the flock and protect the flock from wolves.

Sexual Brutality in the Ancient World.

When I was in seminary, various faculty members led a chapel series called “Bible Stories We Wish Weren’t There.” Our dean, Dr. Mary Ann Tolbert [5] preached a barnburner on Sodom and Gomorrah. She explained that, in the ancient world, sex was a zero sum game—an often-brutal encounter with winners and losers. Back then, sex could not occur between social equals. Sex determined who was more powerful and was often inflicted upon a foe, to commemorate a conquest, to claim power over an enemy. The text makes sure we know it was every man, young and old, who participated in this horrendous evil. The story is often used to condemn same-sex marriage. The men of Sodom were not looking for consensual or loving relationships, let alone marriage. The men of Sodom wanted to demonstrate superior power over these two outsiders. Why are they here? Are they coming to take our stuff, mooch off our bounty, eat our pets, to replace us? Ginning up fear is easy.

Spiritual Abuse of LGBTQIA+ Human Beings.

Quite cynically, this scripture is often used to incite hate and violence against harmless LGBTQ people. One Florida representative has called for our eradication. Harming the harmless is a time-old method to scare your way to power. Statically speaking, roughly one in ten people are LGBTQIA. [6,7] Therefore, it is impossible that every man in Sodom was suddenly gay. Even if Hugh Jackman and Ricky Martin were cast in the roles of those two angels, it couldn’t happen. Assuming Sodom’s men are 100% gay is ridiculous. Queer people are not groomers. The whole groomer scare is a well-orchestrated, defamatory lie. In my opinion, grooming (indoctrination) would include dismantling public education in order to brainwash children into fearing the world and accepting inappropriate behavior. That would be grooming.

Looking Back.

In his book [8] Unclobber , Colby Martin [9] wonders if Lot’s wife might offer us a new window to view this old story. She’s usually interpreted as the nameless woman who looked back, disobeying God and husband. What if, Martin argues, what if she looked back at the massacre out of concern? Perhaps they didn’t have the means to save themselves? [10] Maybe they were victims of misinformation, indoctrinated to value power and inhospitality. Scripture says God judged them as sinful. All of them, except Lot, Mrs. Lot and daughters, were the opposite of loving, hospitable and welcoming people. But they were her neighbors! Her friends. Of course she looked back. [11] And of course she perished. Who could look upon God’s rage and live? [12]

We carry the wounds of brutal images: the murder of George Floyd, the planes striking the World Trade Center. More recently, we've witnessed immigrants bent over with hands tied brutally forced through the El Salvador mega-prison while a government official poses in front of them, sexily. [13] We see the everyday violence of San Francisco, a daily juxtaposition of human misery alongside obscene prosperity. [14]

Our souls get wounded. We harden ourselves to bear witness to human misery. We turn to salt, bit by bit, not because God is mad at us but because we bear witness. We must. People of faith carry the wounds that love demands, salty scars, the inspiration to put our faith in action. Jesus told Thomas, place your hands in my wounds, feel the scars, and believe. People of faith walk through pain by helping others along the way. People of remove the wolves—but peacefully.

The Shocking Depth of the Command.

Lots offers his virginal daughters to the mob. This illustrates has women were property in the ancient world. It is, of course, disgraceful. Carden suggests that Lot is willing to sacrifice his daughters because of the serious obligation placed on him to demonstrate hospitality. For Lot, the command to welcome outsiders outweighed his obligations as a father. Perhaps the Bible ain’t the best source for modern parenting advice. We do not live in the world of 4,000 years ago. We have progressed. True human advancement comes by the grace and guidance of God. Do our daily choices reflect a commitment to the God of your understanding? Or are we tempted to serve other gods, a god of arrogance, a god unconcerned with the poor, a god of violent greed? To be so profoundly mistaken, says Richard Rohr, is to be seduced by the False Self. [15]

Sodomy: History Lesson.

The church didn't used to vilify same-sex relationships. It took awhile. Two of the oldest existing liturgies of the Early Church celebrate 1) a boy’s first haircut and 2) a same sex union. [16] The term sodomy [17] —as it is used today—wasn’t invented until the Middle Ages. Around the year 925, a devout Christian boy, Pelagius, refused to renounce Christ while insprisnoed by the Emir of Cordoba, a Muslim caliph. [18] The story goes that this Muslim ruler demanded the boy engage in sexual relations with him. Ten-year-old Pelagius refused, the they executed him.

The terms sodomy and sodomites were soon used by Christian Crusaders to vilify their Muslim “infidels”—enemies who, ironically like Pelagius, would not renounce their faith. The story of Sodom was twisted into a pretext for centuries of holy wars, the Crusades, the church’s supreme sin. This is not to downplay the boy’s death but rather to point out how abusive language evolved. Harming the harmless was the sin Sodom. Hospitality requires courage and peacemaking.

Last week, Marci preached on Abraham and Sarah, how they welcomed three strangers to their tent. Like them, we are called to treat strangers as we would treat Jesus himself. The Call to Worship and the Prayer of Confession today are from Matthew 25, words of Jesus commanding us to practice agape love. In Revelation 3:20, Jesus says, Listen! That’s me at the door, knocking; if you hear my voice and open the door, I will come in and break bread with you, and you with me.

Every outsider bears the face of Jesus Christ. Even though their city slogan was “Welcome to Sodom. When will you be leaving?” Abraham’s nephew, Lot, greets these undercover aliens, divine spies sent from the realm of heaven.

Hospitality Saves Lives.

When we practice hospitality, the life you save could be our own. Five years ago, my husband Lou and I opened our home to an asylum seeker from Guatemala. We knew nothing about him. Would he be trusted? Would he get along with us, with the dog? Would he be too traumatized to help? Could he speak English? One thing we did know was that he had survived several violent attacks. After coming out as gay, his parents and fourteen siblings rejected him.

(The medieval Crusaders found cohesion by demonizing their Muslim scapegoats. Every group of people organizes themselves against someone or something. [19] Someday we will confess this truth and find a better way. Until then, step one must be to notice and to admit that we have this problem. Once that idea is widely accepted, our politics will change. Our religion will change that we shall all be one.)

One night, he came to us, sheepishly. As he held the phone, an artificial voice read his words in English. “I have been asked to leave other places I stayed because of my secret, and I will understand if you want me to leave. I have to tell you something important. I have HIV.” Lou and I responded with our own stories, both of us HIV positive like him, Lou for over 40 years now, me over 30. We shared how we both had given up many times, given into the voices that told us we deserve it. Through hospitality, we saved him, and he continues to save us. We love and trust one another.

The Holy Spirit does some mighty fine work when we get out of her way. In this country HIV-positive people can live long lives thanks to medication, the same medication our country provided to poorer countries. Until recently. Our government has cancelled that life-saving USAID to save money and is withdrawing medical support for millions of poor people. Which does God call us to save—people or dollars?

Ezekiel 16:49-50 Defines Sodom’s Sin.

On the bulletin cover, Ezekiel explains the sin of Sodom. The people were arrogant, too wealthy, and unconcerned with the poor. Not one word about sexuality! Our current government is dominated by people who self-identity as Christians, but Rev. Raphael Warnock says, Jesus is a victim of identity theft.

True Christians welcome strangers. This land is your land, this land is my land; that’s hospitality. Christians do not traffic human bodies, shuffling them to faraway prisons. while abandoning our nation’s version of God-inspired justice and due process. People who follow Jesus will not perpetuate lies about their queer neighbors or ban children’s books that teach kindness and empathy. Jesus said, “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” Love does not prefer one race over another. Love does not scapegoat trans children. Love does not fly around in a palace made by human hands. [20]

Today’s story suggests that God will remove the wicked. Until then, what do we do? Humble us, God, out of our self-obsession and inspire the billionaires among us to help. Lead our church to spend our money on the healing of hospitality, to offer respite from the violence of this world, and we will do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with you, our God. For at the heart of our faith is a love that makes room for everyone. If we have real love we don’t just watch the destruction of cities. Real love rebuilds them. Amen.

1 Genesis 9:8-17, After the Flood

2 The Torah’s goals were (in-part) to identify, define and establish the monotheistic Jewish faith against the faiths of non-Jews (“pagans”). Torah sets the rules for God’s early people.

3 For a decade, a sign hung on the exterior of the church “We welcome everyone. Really.” This sign proved to be hugely welcoming to new member, but it provoked those who clutched the benefits of social status into fits of privilege. Likewise, the sign invited as many boundarytesting individuals whose behavior proved just as unacceptable for the shepherds of this flock.

4 A longstanding bit of misinformation regarding liberal Protestantism is “anything goes.”

5 “Dr. Mary A. Tolbert | Profile”, LGBTQ Religious Archives Network, accessed May 14, 2025, https://lgbtqreligiousarchives.org/profiles/mary-atolbert.

6 Claire Cain Miller & Francesca Paris, “Nearly One in 10 U.S. Adults Identifies as L.G.B.T.Q., Survey Finds” New York Times, February 20, 2025. accessed online at (May 15. 2025)

7 Using this statistic as a guide: 800,000,000 queer people worldwide, 34,000,000 in the USA.

8 Colby Martin, Unclobber: Rethinking our Misuse of the Bible on Homosexuality, Louisville, Kentucky USA: Westminster John Knox Press, 2022. Read this book.

9 I misspoke when I preached this sermon the first time. My apologies to both Martin and Carden.

10 Michael Carden, The Queer Bible Commentary 2nd edition (London: SCM Press, 2022), 20.

11 This poem is brilliant. https://onbeing.org/poetry/of-course-she-looked-back/

12 Exodus 33:20 illustrates YHWH as one whose glory must not be witnessed.

13 Christi Noem’s display of power over illustrates exactly the sin of Sodom, in this preacher’s opinion.

14 There are at least 58 billionaires in San Francisco (pop. 809,000). https://www.forbes.com/sites/gennacontino/2025/04/02/the-cities-with-themost-billionaires-2025/

15 https://cac.org/daily-meditations/what-is-the-false-self-2023-08-08/

16 John Boswell, Same-Sex Unions in Premodern Europe, Vintage Press, 1995.

17 Mark Jordan, The Invention of Sodomy in Christian Theology (University of Chicago Press, 1997), 10.

18 ‘Abd al-Rahmân III of Cordoba, Andalusia, Spain/Iberia

19 See René Girard’s book The Scapegoat

20 https://abcnews.go.com/Politics/trump-administration-poised-accept-palace-sky-gift-trump/story?id=121680511

Sermon 05.11.2025: Breaking Bread: Participating in the Mystery of Grace

Sun, 11 May 2025 00:56:30 GMT

When I have offered hospitality, often I thought I was doing something kind for someone else. And I sometimes have tried to figure out how to get out of it, because it is work to welcome people in to your life. But it has almost always ended up being a much bigger gift to me than it might have been to the person I thought I was helping. God uses the people we meet and encounter in our lives to call us deeper into God's mystery of grace.

Scripture

Genesis 18:1-10, Romans 12:1-13

Genesis 18:1-10

The Three Visitors

18 The Lord appeared to Abraham near the great trees of Mamre while he was sitting at the entrance to his tent in the heat of the day. 2 Abraham looked up and saw three men standing nearby. When he saw them, he hurried from the entrance of his tent to meet them and bowed low to the ground.

3 He said, “If I have found favor in your eyes, my lord,[a] do not pass your servant by. 4 Let a little water be brought, and then you may all wash your feet and rest under this tree. 5 Let me get you something to eat, so you can be refreshed and then go on your way—now that you have come to your servant.”

“Very well,” they answered, “do as you say.”

6 So Abraham hurried into the tent to Sarah. “Quick,” he said, “get three seahs[b] of the finest flour and knead it and bake some bread.”

7 Then he ran to the herd and selected a choice, tender calf and gave it to a servant, who hurried to prepare it. 8 He then brought some curds and milk and the calf that had been prepared, and set these before them. While they ate, he stood near them under a tree.

9 “Where is your wife Sarah?” they asked him.

“There, in the tent,” he said.

10 Then one of them said, “I will surely return to you about this time next year, and Sarah your wife will have a son.”

Now Sarah was listening at the entrance to the tent, which was behind him.

Romans 12:1-13

A Living Sacrifice

12 Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God—this is your true and proper worship. 2 Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.

Humble Service in the Body of Christ

3 For by the grace given me I say to every one of you: Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the faith God has distributed to each of you. 4 For just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, 5 so in Christ we, though many, form one body, and each member belongs to all the others. 6 We have different gifts, according to the grace given to each of us. If your gift is prophesying, then prophesy in accordance with your[a] faith; 7 if it is serving, then serve; if it is teaching, then teach; 8 if it is to encourage, then give encouragement; if it is giving, then give generously; if it is to lead,[b] do it diligently; if it is to show mercy, do it cheerfully.

Love in Action

9 Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good. 10 Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves. 11 Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. 12 Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. 13 Share with the Lord’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality.

Sermon

Before we dive into the sermon, I want to remind us about Abraham and Sarah. They are important patriarch and matriarch figures in the Book of Genesis. Their story starts with migration. With his father, they leave Ur of the Chaldeans, today in Southern Iraq, stopping in Haran, which is in modern day Turkey. From there, God sends Abraham to yet another place. In chapter 12, the Lord says to Abraham, “Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you.”

There are promises of blessings, and descendants. But those promises require him to become a refugee. To leave the people he knows and loves, to leave the things and places that are familiar, and journey to a different country. We’re told he journeyed in stages toward the negeb, a desert in southern Israel. A journey in stages means it wasn’t a straight shot. He did not have a direct flight from Haran to Canaan. He had to change planes in Atlanta, Chicago, and Denver.

They also end up in Egypt for a time because of famine and other challenges.

So, while we tend to talk about Abraham and the promises of God about having descendants more numerous than the stars, let’s not forget that he was a refugee, a sojourner on the road, journeying in stages, fleeing famine, seeking welcome, and knowing real hardship.

There are people today living out Abraham and Sarah’s story, people journeying by stages to a new land, facing struggles, and famine, seeking welcome. Think of them as we think of Abraham and Sarah.

And maybe the journey is easier because God tells you to make it. But if you read their story, I’m not sure that’s true. And maybe the journey is easier knowing God has made promises for you of descendants, but the descendants aren’t showing up and it must have been frustrating to realize you didn’t ask God what the timeline was, exactly, for this to all happen.

Abraham and Sarah, as our story begins today, have not built the split-level ranch house quite yet, but they are at least somewhat settled by the Oaks of Mamre. They have a tent set up. They have flocks. They have water to drink and flour to make cakes. They have shade in the heat of the day.

And Abraham sees three men, perhaps fellow sojourners. We aren’t told if they look like friendly people, or if they are wearing the right clothes that would indicate they were from the right country, or cheering for the right team, or voting for the right political party.

There are not conditions on welcoming strangers.

God calls us to welcome them. Full stop.

And Abraham does.

I suspect there were stories that didn’t make the Book of Genesis, about when Abraham and Sarah received hospitality. When they were the strangers wandering in the heat of the day, and they came upon a tent by an oasis, with shade from oak trees, and were welcomed in and given food and rest and hospitality.

Abraham goes all out for these strangers. He has Sarah make food. He has a calf slaughtered and cooked. He brings them cheese curds and milk. It was a lot of work, and no small cost, for them to care for these strangers. But the Bible doesn’t record any grumbling about that. Or any concern on Abraham’s part that because they gave this calf to feed strangers, maybe they won’t have enough food for themselves later on.

I know from my own life that my generosity has not caused me harm. I’ve never suffered because I was generous in caring for others. That’s how the abundance of God works. When we live in trust that God will provide, we can share what we have with strangers and know that our needs will also be provided.

God has provided for Abraham and Sarah as they have journeyed by stages. And Abraham and Sarah participate in that by providing for others.

The God who gave each of us life wants us to give life to each other.

And when we try to live our lives as if we don’t need hospitality from others, it gets us off track. When we forget to ask for help, when we forget to accept the gift of an offered meal, and seat under the shade on a hot day, we begin to believe that we are islands to ourselves, that we aren’t dependent on each other to give life to each other as God has cared for us. It can make us think that people who do need help are somehow weak when we think we are strong, or we think they have made mistakes and we are without error. Buying the lie of our own independence leads us to tell false stories of others, as if they are unworthy of our care.

my favorite book of the year, even though I read it in January. I was born again about this book, telling strangers on the bus about it. My husband read it, on my recommendation, and hated it. He said nothing happened in it. He’s not wrong. But when it won the Pulitzer, I felt vindicated.

Only my family can turn reading into a competitive sport?

The book is a fictional journal/memoir of an old pastor dying of heart disease in the fictional town of Gilead, Iowa, writing to his young son, knowing his son will not have many memories of him, and hoping his letters can bridge a gap between them that his upcoming death will create.

The sermon title today comes from a passage in that book, and underscores for me why hospitality is both important and difficult. He writes to his son:

“When you encounter another person, when you have dealings with anyone at all, it is as if a question is being put to you. So you must think, What is the Lord asking of me in this moment, in this situation? If you confront insult or antagonism, your first impulse will be to respond in kind. But if you think, as it were, This is an emissary sent from the Lord, and some benefit is intended for me, first of all the occasion to demonstrate my faithfulness, the chance to show that I do in some small degree participate in the grace that saved me, you are free to act otherwise One of my favorite novels is Gilead by Marilynne Robinson. When it came out, I gushed about it. I said it would be than as circumstances would seem to dictate. You are free to act by your own lights. You are freed at the same time of the impulse to hate or resent that person.”

I offer his question to us, as we consider meeting strangers, and offering the hospitality God calls us to offer. What is the Lord asking of us in this moment, in this situation?

The Bible has very clear instructions about welcoming the stranger. It is all throughout the Old Testament. Paul mentioned it in our passage from the Book of Romans as a Christian ethic too.

And one reason for it, I think, is because all people need help, not just people we know and like. Not just people who look like us, or vote like us. And even we need help, from time to time.

All people are made in the image of God and God wants all of their children to be okay. As our new pope said, not long before he was elected pope, “Jesus doesn’t ask us to rank our love for others.”

And the reason I love that quote from Marilynne Robinson’s book so much is that it is a reminder that the way we behave isn’t supposed to be just commensurate with the way we are treated. It isn’t about whether or not the other person deserves our kindness.

We behave as we do because of who God is and who God calls us to be.

God is the host with the most. We have been welcomed in, not as guests, but as family. We have received grace upon grace, not because we have earned it but because that is who God is.

God came to earth and lived among us, as one of us. And as an infant, Jesus became a refugee, his family having to flee to Egypt because of political threat in their home country. The God who created the universe showed the ultimate form of solidarity with humanity by becoming one of us, and by experiencing the vulnerability of being human. God knows what is at stake when God tells us to welcome the stranger, because God has vulnerably lived it.

Are we willing to be vulnerable in our hospitality? Inhabiting vulnerability is the path into welcoming the stranger.

The poet David Whyte, in his book Consolations, says this about vulnerability:

VULNERABILITY is not a weakness, a passing indisposition, or something we can arrange to do without, vulnerability is not a choice, vulnerability is the underlying, ever present and abiding under-current of our natural state. To run from vulnerability is to run from the essence of our nature, the attempt to be invulnerable is the vain attempt to be something we are not and most especially, to close off our understanding of the grief of others. More seriously, refusing our vulnerability we refuse the help needed at every turn of our existence and immobilize the essential, tidal and conversational foundations of our identity. The only choice we have as we mature is how we inhabit our vulnerability, how we become larger and more courageous and more compassionate through our intimacy with disappearance, our choice is to inhabit vulnerability as generous citizens of loss, robustly and fully, or conversely, as misers and complainers, reluctant and fearful, always at the gates of existence, but never bravely and completely attempting to enter, never wanting to risk ourselves, never walking fully through the door.
—David Whyte, from his chapter on “Vulnerability” in the book “Consolations”

In the biblical instructions to care for the stranger, God invites us to participate in the grace that has saved us. God invites us to be vulnerable and extend grace to friends and to strangers, not because they have earned it, but because it is who God calls us to be and how God calls us to live.

May we participate in the grace that has saved us. Let us be brave in our welcome of others, as God has welcomed us. Let us be loud in our defense of hospitality. Let us be vulnerable in our welcome, for we may entertain angels without knowing it.

Sermon 05.04.2025: Breaking Bread: The Spirit's Invitation

Sun, 04 May 2025 19:53:48 GMT

The Book of Acts continues the story began in the Gospel of Luke. The Good News of the Gospel is being taken to the ends of the Earth, because the Spirit is on the loose!

From being a movement of people who knew Jesus, and people who had heard him teach and speak, it grows. Exponentially.

From Jerusalem, to the rest of the Middle East, and then to Europe, Asia, and even San Francisco.

This is the Good News--that God's Spirit will not be limited or constrained.

How do we welcome and celebrate the differences that come with the Spirit's invitation? How does hospitality create, and re-create the church?

Scripture

Acts 16:6-15

They went through the region of Phrygia and Galatia, having been forbidden by the Holy Spirit to speak the word in Asia. When they had come opposite Mysia, they attempted to go into Bithynia, but the Spirit of Jesus did not allow them; so, passing by Mysia, they went down to Troas. During the night Paul had a vision: there stood a man of Macedonia pleading with him and saying, ‘Come over to Macedonia and help us.’ When he had seen the vision, we immediately tried to cross over to Macedonia, being convinced that God had called us to proclaim the good news to them.

We set sail from Troas and took a straight course to Samothrace, the following day to Neapolis, and from there to Philippi, which is a leading city of the district of Macedonia and a Roman colony. We remained in this city for some days. On the sabbath day we went outside the gate by the river, where we supposed there was a place of prayer; and we sat down and spoke to the women who had gathered there. A certain woman named Lydia, a worshipper of God, was listening to us; she was from the city of Thyatira and a dealer in purple cloth. The Lord opened her heart to listen eagerly to what was said by Paul. When she and her household were baptized, she urged us, saying, ‘If you have judged me to be faithful to the Lord, come and stay at my home.’ And she prevailed upon us.

Sermon

The "Man from Macedonia" sounds like a TV show from the 60s, with lots of intrigue and drama. And in the Book of Acts, he is an intriguing and enigmatic character as well.

The recently converted Paul has been traveling around, preaching the good news of Jesus Christ. He’s been trying to get into parts of Asia Minor to preach but we’re told the holy spirit of Jesus did not allow them to go there.

We aren’t given details of what that looked like, exactly. I’m sort of picturing a giant ghostly dove blocking the road and pointing them in other directions.

I suspect it was less clear than that. You know those times in your life when you were convinced you were headed one direction? And then nothing in the universe conspired for that dream to come true? So then you ended up going in a different direction, and realized that it was where you belonged all along?

Honestly, that sort of describes how I ended up here at Calvary. I thought I was supposed to stay in Boise, pastoring the congregation I loved there, serving the community where we raised our kids. But the Holy Spirit of Jesus kept turning me toward San Francisco because a lot of people kept saying, “Hey, there’s a church in San Francisco looking for a pastor, and I think you’d be a good fit.” I had never once thought in my life that I should move to California—you have earthquakes! And no parking! And now I’m here and I cannot imagine being anywhere else. I thought I was supposed to be going one direction and the Holy Spirit of Jesus sent me on a different path.

Do you have moments in your life that were like that? It can be hard to remember how disorienting it is when it happens, because once you live into the goodness of the change, we forget the difficulty of the change.

Remember the disorientation and dislocation of change as you think about Paul’s experience in Macedonia.

Paul is in a place where his plans to go to Asia are not panning out, and then he has this vision of a man in Macedonia, which today we’d call Northern Greece. And Paul pivots and takes the Gospel to the continent of Europe instead of to other parts of Asia.

The Holy Spirit calls us to places that are unfamiliar to us, places we would not choose to go on our own, places where people have different customs, different languages, different politics, no parking, etc.

I confess, there are moments I wish the Book of Acts said that the Holy Spirit of Jesus called Paul to go exactly where he wanted to go, where he already had friends and knew the customs and his life was easy-peasy and nothing bad happened.

I suspect I am not alone in that confession.

This story reminds me that God calls us into spaces and places, not because they are easy, but because God has something good for us in the complexity and the difficulty.

And God does not send us there, only to abandon us there. Any place God sends us, God goes with us. We are never apart from the presence of God, no matter how dislocated we may feel in the moment.

Paul goes to Macedonia, a place where he knows nobody, and goes to church to find some community. Well, he goes to the river on the sabbath . Philippi didn’t have a synagogue, so he knew the river outside the gates of the city would be the place for people to gather to pray.

Luckily, Paul finds a friendly church, a group of people where he is welcomed as he is. And he is treated as a guest, not just a visitor who happened to wander in off the street.

He meets Lydia.

Lydia is not local to Philippi. She, too, is from another place. She’s from what would be today in Turkey. So maybe she knows what it is like to need hospitality. Maybe someone welcomed her in when she was new to town, and she wants to pass it forward.

Or maybe nobody welcomed her, maybe they didn’t like her accent, or they told her to go back home to her own country, and she wants to be sure others don’t have to experience what she went through.

Either way, the Lord opens Lydia’s heart when she hears Paul preach, and she asks to be baptized and then she invites him to come stay with her.

Lydia reminds us that the good news of Jesus brings us into relationship, across our differences, and calls us into community.

But community isn’t just a word you say. Community is a verb. It requires action, inconvenience, compassion, flexibility, and grace.

Lydia could have heard Paul’s amazing sermon and then said “Thanks. Hope you find a place to stay even though hotels and Airbnbs haven’t been invented yet! Hope I see you again sometime.”

Instead, she takes him into her home. A guest.

As I mentioned at the start of worship, the word in Greek for Hospitality translates as “love of strangers.”

And the world needs hospitality, needs us to love strangers, more now than ever. As government officials and their executive orders try to make us fear others, and isolate from each other, we can recognize the insecurity and fear that is behind their hatred.

I confessed earlier in the sermon that I wanted the holy spirit to send us to places where everyone is alike, and nothing is complicated.

I believe the racism and the cruel policies of deportation without due process start from that same place of fear and insecurity. If you think you’re supposed to fear difference, rather than welcome and learn from difference, we can see why they believe what they do, even if we believe it is wrong.

Because the Holy Spirit of Jesus sent Paul to strangers. The Holy Spirit of Jesus would not let Paul only travel to people who agreed with him, who spoke his same language, who had his same customs. We have to follow the Spirit when it sends us into relationship with people who are different than we are.

And in that experience, Paul was changed. The Holy Spirit of Jesus sent Paul to a place where he would need to receive help and hospitality for his work to happen.

Who are the people the Holy Spirit of Jesus is sending our way, in need of hospitality and welcome so they can do what God is calling them to do?

I ask that in the broader sense of our national conversation right now. We are a nation of immigrants. All of us here, unless we are Ramatush Ohlone tribal members, came here from somewhere else. Our ancestors came here from somewhere else, strangers who received hospitality in a foreign land.

The welcome of immigrants and strangers is a biblical command. We must advocate for policies that give to other people what we have already received.

I also ask the question in a narrower sense. In your own life, who is the Holy Spirit of Jesus sending your way, in need of hospitality and welcome so they can do what God is dreaming for them to do?

And who is the Holy Spirit of Jesus sending to Calvary? What can we do as a congregation to make sure that when people like Paul are sent to us by the Holy Spirit, how can we be like Lydia to them?

Today is legacy Sunday, which you’ll hear more about in a few minutes, but I’m grateful for the legacy of hospitality and welcome here at Calvary. Our ancestors in faith, over the past 171 years, have provided hospitality and welcome in our community. We are the beneficiaries of their legacy.

What can we do to create a legacy of welcome and hospitality that will benefit future generations?

Adam Grant, in his book Hidden Potential, writes: “It’s more important to be good ancestors than dutiful descendants. Too many people spend their lives being custodians of the past instead of stewards of the future. The responsibility of each generation is not to please our predecessors—it’s to improve conditions for our successors.”

As we think about what hospitality means in our own lives, and in our corporate life as a church, I hope it becomes a watchword for us, a guiding light that leads us to the welcome of God.

Sermon 04.27.2025: Breaking Bread: Hospitality Is How We Recognize Jesus

Sun, 27 Apr 2025 23:55:26 GMT

After the resurrection of Jesus, he walks with two men to a village called Emmaus. But his companions do not recognize who he is until they sit down and break bread with him. When have we walked with Jesus without even realizing it? How might we recognize Jesus in others and in the world?

Scripture

Luke 24:13-35

Now on that same day two of them were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, and talking with each other about all these things that had happened. While they were talking and discussing, Jesus himself came near and went with them, but their eyes were kept from recognizing him. And he said to them, “What are you discussing with each other while you walk along?” They stood still, looking sad. Then one of them, whose name was Cleopas, answered him, “Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have taken place there in these days?” He asked them, “What things?” They replied, “The things about Jesus of Nazareth, who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people, and how our chief priests and leaders handed him over to be condemned to death and crucified him. But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel. Yes, and besides all this, it is now the third day since these things took place. Moreover, some women of our group astounded us. They were at the tomb early this morning, and when they did not find his body there, they came back and told us that they had indeed seen a vision of angels who said that he was alive. Some of those who were with us went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said; but they did not see him.” Then he said to them, “Oh, how foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared! Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?” Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures. As they came near the village to which they were going, he walked ahead as if he were going on. But they urged him strongly, saying, “Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over.” So he went in to stay with them. When he was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him; and he vanished from their sight. They said to each other, “Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?” That same hour they got up and returned to Jerusalem; and they found the eleven and their companions gathered together. They were saying, “The Lord has risen indeed, and he has appeared to Simon!” Then they told what had happened on the road, and how he had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread.

Sermon

In 1995, (which was thirty years ago, by the way!) I was thirteen years old, and Joan Osborne came out with a song called “One of Us”. Now, during the passing of the peace, some of you shared with your neighbors a song you liked as a teenager. And this is one of the songs I liked as a teenager.

For those unfamiliar with it, the song’s lyrics wonder out loud:

If God had a name, what would it be?

And would you call it to His face

If you were faced with Him…?

What would you ask if you had just one question?

And then the chorus goes:

What if God was one of us

Just a slob like one of us

Just a stranger on the bus

Tryin’ to make His way home?

Some of you may know it. If you don’t, maybe find it online and listen to it on your way home.

This song, believe it or not, caused quite a stir with many religious communities denouncing it and speaking out against it. Some even picketed Joan Osborne’s concerts, claiming blasphemy and sacrilege. And sadly, most of these religious communities called themselves Christian. I remember being so confused about that as a teenager because I called myself a Christian, too, and the song really resonated with me.

I wouldn’t have been able to articulate it then, but I think it’s because, as I more fully understand it now, the story of our faith, is that, in Jesus Christ, God actually did become one of us. Jesus was not only fully divine; he was also fully human. God came to this world and chose to live among us, walk among us, to be one of us.

And in today’s story, God, through Jesus, was also a stranger, not a stranger on a bus, like in Osborne’s song, but a stranger on a road, on the road to Emmaus.

Now, we probably know and remember that Lent is a season: 40 days and 40 nights before Easter. But oftentimes, we forget that Easter, too, is a season.

It doesn’t end with the packed pews and the orchestra and the flowers of last week. It continues, in fact, until Pentecost, which happens in June.

Eastertide, the season of Easter, is often missed or forgotten by us. And perhaps it’s so easy to leave behind because the agents of death and destruction in the world are often so much louder and more prevalent than the agents of new life and resurrection.

So, perhaps as we come together this morning, we find ourselves much like these two disciples on their journey to Emmaus. We may have “gotten it” on Easter morning; we may have felt the hope of the empty tomb, the transformed life of the resurrection, but that was a whole week ago!

And on this second Sunday of Eastertide, we may find ourselves wondering, as these two disciples did: What really happened? Was it all foolishness?

We’re not so sure where we stand anymore. And perhaps, though we felt God’s presence profoundly last Sunday, it now already feels like a distant memory. Where is God now? Where is Christ now?

Commentator Alan Culpepper asks, “Is there any persuasive reason to believe that Jesus really was raised from the dead or that God is present in the turbulence of our lives?” And it’s a good question.

I mean, have you seen this world? The cruelty, the pain, the brokenness? If we’re honest, we could probably all use a good escape from the horrors that somehow seem to get worse every day.

Theologian Fredrick Buechner depicts Emmaus as “the place we go in order to escape – a bar, a movie, [I would add: the gym or our phones]; wherever it is we throw up our hands and say, ‘… It makes no difference anyway.’ Emmaus is whatever we do or wherever we go to make ourselves forget…”

We are all on the road to Emmaus in some form or fashion - trying to walk away from the drama and the heartache that is Jerusalem. But on that journey of walking away, of hoping to forget, we are occasionally confronted: What if God is one of us? What if we can’t turn away because God is that stranger on the bus; or on the street; that stranger right in front of us waiting to reveal God’s very self to us.

Today’s scripture reminds us that the risen Lord meets us on the road to our Emmauses, in the ordinary places and experiences of our lives, and in the places to which we retreat when life feels too much for us.

The story warns us, however, that the Lord may come to us in unfamiliar guises, when and where we least expect him. (Buechner)

Jesus told a parable about this in Matthew Chapter 25. In it, he shares a vision of the future. All the nations and people are gathered before him, and the sheep and the goat are separated. And he says to the sheep: “Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.”

Then the righteous will answer him, “Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?”

And the king will answer them, “Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.”

Calvary has committed to being a Matthew 25 church, which means we have committed to serving Christ in the world through serving those who are the most vulnerable and oppressed. Jesus tells us that, the way you treated the most vulnerable and marginalized in our society is how we have treated him.” (Matthew 25:34-46).

And it’s important to note that Jesus doesn’t say to do these things because that’s what he would’ve done, although it is what he would’ve done. He says to do these things because he is the one who is hungry and poor and a stranger in our society.

By the way, that Greek word for “stranger” here? Literally translates to “foreigner” or “immigrant.”

So how are we treating the foreigner and the immigrant among us? Because that is how we are treating Jesus.

Friends, God is one of us. And when we open our hearts and extend hospitality to those who are most in need, we welcome God into our lives. We serve Christ, when we serve one another.

Radical Christian hospitality demands that we stop seeing one another as threats, as scapegoats, as the enemy, or the “other,” and to start seeing one another not only created in the image of God, but as bearers of the image of God.

Pope Francis, who died just this past week, (may he rest in peace) once said, “In the poor and outcast, we see Christ’s face. By loving and helping the poor, we love and serve Christ.”

Now, the Pope and I didn’t agree on everything. But I respected his humility and his leadership.

Every year, on Maundy Thursday, it is Catholic tradition that the pope wash the feet of twelve individuals. And during his papacy, Pope Francis included, for the first time, women, non-Catholic immigrants like Muslims, Hindus, and those in refugee camps and prisons. Hospitality and welcome draw the circle of inclusion wider and wider, until every single person is included.

Now, the Greek word for hospitality is philoxenia . It is a compound word that brings together philo meaning loving and xenos meaning stranger, foreigner, or immigrant. So the word for hospitality in the Bible literally means to love the stranger or to love the immigrant.

But that word philo in Greek is also the root word for friend or to befriend. So if you’re wondering how to love the stranger, how to be hospitable, it means to befriend those whom we do not yet know.

Now, in eighth grade, I had just changed middle schools. And it’s hard enough to try and make new friends in middle school, but when everyone else has known each other since sixth grade, it can be especially awkward.

I was doing mostly fine in the classroom, but it was lunch time that was brutal.

Everyone already knew where their friends sat in the cafeteria, and they had their own tables. They weren’t numbered or labeled, but they knew.

So that meant, I had to squeeze between friend groups and get ignored for thirty minutes as I ate my lunch. Usually, I’d just inhale my food and then go hide in the bathroom. Admittedly, it was kind of awful for the first couple weeks. But then one day, as I was hiding out in the bathroom, two girls came in and noticed me, a stranger.

One of them said, “I like your shirt.” The other one asked, “Do you wanna come sit with us at lunch?” And I did, every school day from then on out, until high school graduation. In fact, they were both in my wedding when I got married to Mike. That’s how close we became.

And that’s hospitality: making room for others at your table; befriending those who are friendless; noticing and being willing to see and love the stranger.

Many of our confirmands today did not know each other before joining the class, and if they did, they didn’t know each other very well. Between the eight of them, they attend seven different schools! These young people, who started off as strangers, know each other so much better now; they might even call one another a friend.

And that’s the process of confirmation; it’s not just about learning what we believe, it’s about building relationships and practicing hospitality. In fact, this place here, is a good, safe place to practice hospitality, to break bread with others, and to make new friends.

Jesus most often practiced hospitality through food. He breaks bread, cooks fish, turns water into wine, multiplies the loaves and the fishes.

And even in Emmaus, he stops and stays with these men, who think he’s a stranger, and when they invite him to stay, Jesus breaks bread with them, and that’s when they recognize him.

Perhaps it’s because he was doing something so familiar to them, something they had seen him do again and again. And I love how when they extended hospitality to Jesus, they didn’t worry about tidying up or setting the perfect menu for this stranger. They just shared what they had and let Jesus share who he was with them.

Theologian and professor Letty M. Russell says this: “Hospitality isn’t a sport or a competition. It’s an act of love, if you let it be. You can twist it and turn it into anything you want— a way to show off your house, a way to compete with your friends, a way to earn love and approval. Or you can decide that every time you open your door [or heart], it’s an act of love, not performance or competition or striving.”

Friends, let us open our doors, open our hearts, and break bread with one another for the sake of love.

Next week, we will break bread together at the Lord’s Table just as these two travelers broke bread with Christ. And like those who were on the road to Emmaus, may we, this day and every day, recognize Jesus in the meals we share, the food we eat, and the people we encounter, unafraid to extend hospitality to those who are still strangers.

May we see Christ present in one another and in the world.

Amen.

Sermon 04.20.2025: 10am Easter - Unbury Your Alleluias

Sun, 20 Apr 2025 21:09:46 GMT

At the start of Lent, the children 'buried' an alleluia in worship. We put the word away during a season. On Easter, we bring it back.

On the first Easter morning, the women went to the tomb, assuming their alleluias were going to stay buried forever.

Their rabbi was dead. Their hopes and dreams, buried with him.

An encounter with the angels in the empty tomb makes them reconsider what they thought they knew of death, of endings.

Maybe you've buried a lot of your hopes and dreams recently too. What might the Easter story have to say to us anew this year?

Scripture

Luke 24:1-12

But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, the women came to Jesus’ tomb, taking the spices that they had prepared. They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, but when they went in, they did not find the body. While they were perplexed about this, suddenly two men in dazzling clothes stood beside them. The women were terrified and bowed their faces to the ground, but the men said to them, “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen. Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day rise again.” Then they remembered his words, and returning from the tomb, they told all this to the eleven and to all the rest.

Now it was Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women with them who told this to the apostles. But these words seemed to the men an idle tale, and they did not believe them. But Peter got up and ran to the tomb; stooping and looking in, he saw the linen cloths by themselves; then he went home, amazed at what had happened.

Sermon

Last week, I was invited to the Calvary Nursery School to talk with the children about Easter. Getting to visit the nursery school is one of my favorite gigs, but how do you explain resurrection to 3-year-olds?

Also, I recognize not all of the kids at the nursery school are Christian, and I want to be respectful of other faith traditions in the telling of our story. And, I really, really did not want to freak the kids out with some zombie Jesus image of a dead man leaving his grave.

Let’s face it, if you don’t already know the story, it’s not an easy story to tell.

There was a cartoon in the New Yorker this week that showed Jesus and the disciples at the Last Supper. And Jesus, pointing to the things on the table says, “So the bread is my body, the wine is my blood, and the chocolate bunny is a fun springtime treat.”

And that might be a fair assessment of my time with the nursery school kids. Far more conversation about the Easter bunny than resurrected Jesus.

But in truth, I think resurrection is as complicated for us to understand as it is for 3-year-olds.

Death we understand. We don’t like it, in most situations, but we understand it. We see it around us.

Life after death? That’s trickier. Give me the easter bunny, please.

We can sympathize with the women who went to the tomb that morning with supplies to anoint a dead body. If they’d understood resurrection, they would have taken Jesus a change of clothes and a sandwich.

But they get to the tomb to do the faithful work of caring for the body of their loved one, their rabbi, their friend. And the tomb is open and the body is gone.

I stopped watching horror movies many years ago, once I realized I was a grown up and I didn’t need to subject myself to that fear anymore, but I remember watching those movies and always yelling at the screen, “Don’t go into the cemetery alone in the dark!”

It’s what we want to say to the women. Of course they are terrified at the sight of an empty tomb. Of course they are worried about grave robbers.

It is then that the angels pop up next to the empty tomb in their dazzling outfits, terrifying the women in the early morning light. And then had the nerve to say to the women, “Why do you look for the living among the dead?” They don’t even say what every other angel says in scripture after they terrify humans, “do not be afraid”.

Why do you look for the living among the dead?

What do the angels even mean when they ask that? Luke records:

Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen. Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day rise again.

The angels remind the women that Jesus had been trying to help give them a framework to understand resurrection while he was still alive. Jesus had told them he was going to be handed over to Rome. Jesus had told them he was going to be crucified and rise again on the third day.

As we talked about last week on Palm Sunday, the people wanted Jesus to overthrow Rome and come in military power. Jesus wanted the people to understand the ways of peace. The angel reminds the women that they are still looking for Jesus in all the wrong places.

Jesus wasn’t found cozying up to Caesar. He wasn’t found amassing arms for a military takeover. He also wasn’t found in his tomb.

Why do you look for the living among the dead?

Because we still believe in death. We still experience it. We still see people trafficking in it and threatening us with it. It’s hard enough to believe that Jesus didn’t want power or wealth or military victory—because that’s what we want, oftentimes. But for Jesus to defeat even death?

Why do you look for the living among the dead?

The angels aren’t gaslighting the women. They aren’t pretending Jesus didn’t just die a horrible, state sanctioned, unjust death on a cross. Jesus died. The angels aren’t claiming Jesus didn’t die.

Resurrection isn’t pretending that death isn’t real, that it doesn’t hurt us deep in our souls. Being Christian, being resurrection people , is not making a claim that if you follow Jesus, everything in your life will work out perfectly and you’ll have prosperity and nothing but blue skies.

By asking the question, the angels are letting the women know death isn’t the ending they thought it was.

But life after death isn’t a return to exactly what was before. Jesus doesn’t move back into his apartment and get back to his routine with the disciples. There will be accounts of people encountering Jesus after the resurrection, but it sometimes takes a minute for them to recognize him. Even Jesus is changed by death.

+++

Easter takes place in springtime, which used to mean more to me when I lived in places that weren’t perpetually spring like. After a long winter in snowy, cold, dark places, you welcome the signs of new life and spring differently than I do living here.

But it is not a coincidence that our sanctuary is filled with beautiful flowers today. They are a sign of life. They are a reminder that when the earth feels barren and empty, there are seeds or bulbs that are yet being born.

But the new life of resurrection isn’t a return of what we’ve known before. If you planted a tulip bulb and what grew out of the soil was a sequoia instead, that might be a better image for Easter.

Life after death is different.

Maybe you have an experience of it in your own life.

When you were at an ending.

When you could not return to where you had been before.

My experience with life after death is the reason I’m a pastor.

It doesn’t feel as dramatic as death to me now, 35 years later, but at the time it was an ending. And there was grief and anxiety and loss.

I was in college. And I was a good student and even got up on Sunday mornings to go to worship. And I got pregnant at 19. That wasn’t supposed to happen to girls who got up to go to church in college.

It is almost hard for me to remember now how it felt as a death. But at the time, it felt like my life was over. I was worried my family might disown me. I was afraid I was not going to finish college or have a career. Dreams died in those days for the future I thought I was supposed to have.

I had an image of myself that died then too. I had an image of myself as a ‘good person’ who ‘did the right things’, so I didn’t really need God, and I didn’t really need help from other people. The image of me that died in those days was the lone ranger, pulling myself up by my own bootstraps, an island to myself.

Day by day, through that time, people helped me turn away from the brick wall of ending that seemed to be in front of me and they guided me to different paths. Day by day, God put glimmers of new life in front of me, helping me slowly see possibility where I first only saw grief. Day by day, my church cared for me, teaching me the valuable lesson of community and the gift of accepting help.

I placed my son for adoption. And in a miracle for which I cannot say alleluia enough, I’ve been in his life the whole way through. I’ve seen him graduate from high school and college. Was at his wedding. I get to see him as a father to my granddaughter, and this fall, I happened to be in Dallas, where he lives, for a church meeting, when his wife went into labor. I got to meet my grandson in the hospital the morning after he was born.

I promise you that in 1989, as I gave my son to another family, I had no framework to even dream any of the goodness that has happened. It never occurred to me that I might someday have a relationship with him, let alone my grandchildren. It seemed as farfetched as new life after an empty tomb.

Why do we look for the living among the dead?

Maybe it is because we lack imagination for goodness.

Or maybe we worry we are unworthy of the goodness of God.

I certainly did not feel deserving of God’s grace and love in that moment when I thought I had destroyed everything.

But that’s the thing about the grace of God. We do not earn it. We cannot control it. We can only receive it. And it searches us out, in moments of joy and contentment, in moments of grief and loss.

There is no place the love of God will not go to find us, even to the tombs of our lives. So why do we stay by the tombs, looking for the living among the dead?

After the angel speaks with the women, we’re told: Then they remembered Jesus’ words, and returning from the tomb, they told all this to the eleven and to all the rest.

Like the women at the tomb, who went back to tell their friends, we’re called to tell people about Jesus, about this love that is stronger than death. Like the women at the tomb, we want people to know that what is an ending for us does not mean God is finished helping us tell our story.

As we live into this Easter season, I invite you to notice when the death and pain of the world make you forget to leave the tomb, when your imagination forgets to believe impossible things, when your heart protects itself from the possibility of life after it has known death.

In these days, especially in these days, the world needs to know the depth, and height, and breadth of God’s love. So leave the tombs to share the remarkable news that nothing can separate us from the love of God. Not even death.

Christ is risen. Alleluia. Amen.

Sermon 04.20.2025: 7am Sunrise - The Beloved Disciple

Sun, 20 Apr 2025 21:03:44 GMT

Sermon

In this gospel account, Mary Magdalene is the first person to the tomb of Jesus on Easter morning. That’s the same in all 4 gospels—women are the first witnesses to the resurrection. The first people to tell the world the Good News.

Mary sees the giant stone rolled away from the tomb and goes with my motto of “safety first” and does not enter it by herself.

From what she can tell, either the Romans have taken the body to keep Jesus from being a political martyr, or the religious leaders have taken it, to keep him from becoming a religious martyr—in either scenario, it isn’t safe to walk into a crime scene by oneself.

Mary will return to the tomb.

She will remain after the men have gone home.

She will see Jesus.

She will be the first person to proclaim the resurrection.

But for the moment, she’s alone at a tomb that should not be open, in the darkness of the early morning.

Mary goes back and tells the disciples what she saw, so she can have back up at the site of what is likely a robbery.

And Peter and the Beloved Disciple end up racing to the tomb. Eugene Burnand painted one of my favorite paintings, of Peter and the Beloved Disciple in the foot race. Cue the Chariots of Fire soundtrack.

I love this painting. It is at the Musee d’Orsay in Paris. I was wandering through the museum a number of years ago and came across the painting. Before I saw the title of the painting, I knew exactly who the men were and where they were going. Dawn is breaking. There is haste. There is hope. There is fear. There is more hope. “Could Mary’s report be true? Please let it be true.”

In Peter’s face, he of recently denying Jesus 3 times, there is a resignation–whatever he needs to face, he will face–if it could only be possible to wake up from the nightmare of the past few days.

You may have noticed Burnand had referred to Peter’s racing companion as John, even though the gospel calls him the one whom Jesus loved. And many scholars over the years have declared the one whom Jesus loved to be John, the writer of the 4th gospel, which makes sense if John is some sort of egomaniac who refers to himself in the 3rd person as Jesus ’favorite.

It seems odd, doesn’t it? The idea that Jesus has a favorite?

I mean, other than me.

Maybe it’s John. It could be.

Some people have wondered if it is Lazarus. Earlier in the gospel, he’s been in his own tomb, so he might have the personal experience to have hope about the report of an empty tomb. When Lazarus had died, before Jesus called him out of the tomb by name, we’re told, in what is famously the shortest verse in the bible: Jesus wept. The friend he loved was dead. I think a strong case could be made for Lazarus racing to the tomb with Peter rather than John.

Dan Brown, the author of the DaVinci Code, and other such rabble rousers, might make the case that Jesus beloved disciple was a woman. Scandal! Intrigue!

I suspect if that were the case, we’d have seen a lot more scholarly papers about it, and it wouldn’t have taken until the mid-20th century for women to be given the denominational sanction to be the preachers we’ve always been. I don’t think the Greek pronouns really support the idea of it being a woman, as much as I’d like it.

There’s a scene, when Jesus is on the cross, that argues against a female beloved disciple too. John’s gospel reports this story:

“When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing beside her, he said to his mother, ‘Woman, here is your son.’ Then he said to the disciple, ‘Here is your mother. ‘And from that hour the disciple took her into his own home.”

Whoever the beloved disciple was, he took Jesus ’mother into his home, as a son cares for a mother. From that hour. No longer strangers, but family.

We all know stories like that. One minute, people are strangers, or maybe friends. The next minute, family.

Being adopted, I knew the truth of a story like that before I knew anything else. My adoptive parents and older sister were a complete family, until they adopted me and immediately expanded their definition of family to include me.

As some of you know, ten years ago, I got my birth certificate and started meeting my birth family. It’s astonishing, really, to consider. In most all cases, members of my birth family answered a phone call from a total stranger— me —and from that call, instantly, expanded their definition of who was included a part of their family.

In an instant, I went from being nobody to being family. The welcome I’ve received, while it did have a few rough patches, has really been humbling and amazing. And it has reminded me of the wildly inclusive love of God, that causes us to be joined to God’s family. My birth family has shown me God’s own love, welcoming me into their family.

In Ephesians 2, Paul writes,

“But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. For he is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us. He…reconciles both groups to God in one body through the cross, thus putting to death that hostility through it. So he came and proclaimed peace to you who were far off and peace to those who were near; for through him both of us have access in one Spirit to the Father. So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God,”

Throughout the gospels, Jesus tries to expand our understanding of who counts as family. We, who were far off, are brought near. Not just close by into the courtyard, but near, into God’s home, into God’s family.

Even at the cross, as Jesus’ mother has to watch her son be crucified—she does not have to be alone in her grief and pain. The pain is her own, but the beloved disciple stands there next to her and Jesus makes a connection between them. In their grief, in the brokenness of the world, there can still be connection.

We have so much that divides us these days—walls, politics, how we feel about the Lakers—so many things. And while social media can help people stay somewhat connected to far off loved ones, studies show it isolates us. And the political powers of the world want us to be isolated too.

But God is about community. We believe in a triune God—father, son, and holy spirit. Even God exists in community.

Is the worry and grief of the world isolating you right now?

Don’t let the world keep us separated from each other. Jesus’ mother could have stood at the cross and decided that since nobody else knew her pain, that she was all on her own.

Instead, she and the beloved disciple become family.

Instead, her story stands as witness for all mothers, through the years and even right now in our own country. Mothers who have had to watch their sons be unjustly detained, tortured, and killed by the state without due process. Jesus’ mother stands with them even as they feel alone.

In the story of the Cross and Resurrection, our personal pain can be transformed, shared, and borne by others, as the family of God.

And now it’s Easter morning, and Mary Magdalene has come back to report her news. Peter and the Beloved Disciple, who has just gained an extra mother, go racing off to the tomb.

They see the empty tomb, the discarded grave cloths and they “saw and believed; for as yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead. Then the disciples returned to their homes.”

Maybe they believed in the resurrection. But since the text says they didn’t yet understand the scriptures, I think it means they believed what Mary had told them, that Jesus is not in his tomb. And they go home.

The older I get, the more I think one of the most important lessons in the Easter story is the importance of listening to someone else’s testimony and believing what they tell you, even if it doesn’t always make sense, even if it isn’t an experience you’ve had too.

Don’t lose track of the gift that comes from hearing and accepting someone else’s testimony. How else would Peter and the Beloved Disciple have known about the resurrection, had they not believed Mary, if they’d told her not to overreact?

So who is the beloved disciple?

One other candidate I haven’t mentioned, is you . Some scholars have suggested it was a way for John to leave space for you and I in the story. The beloved disciple shows up late to the story in John’s gospel. He isn’t mentioned until the last week of Jesus’ life, when he asks Jesus who will betray him while they celebrate the last supper.

We too, show up late in the story.

The beloved disciple is one who accompanies Mary Magdalene to the tomb. He sees, and believes her.

We too, accompany people into stories of uncertainty and fear, bearing witness with them as they face things they cannot begin to imagine, believing the truths of their difficult stories.

He is there for a resurrection appearance, where the disciples bring in a huge haul of fish—perhaps symbolizing the way Jesus’ followers fish for people.

We too, fish for people, participating in work that shares God’s love for the world.

The book of John claims to be written because of the testimony of the beloved disciple. And how do people know about Jesus now, 2000 years later? Because of the testimony of Jesus’ disciples.

We too, share the stories of where we’ve seen God’s love so people will know their inclusion in God’s family.

If we are the beloved disciple, we have a particular responsibility to both testify to God’s love and mercy and to continue to help the world re-order who we call family. Earlier in John’s gospel, he writes, “For God so loved the world, God gave the only Son…”

We experience God’s love in personal ways in our own lives, which is how love works. But God’s love was for the whole world. God’s sense of family is global, and ever more inclusive than we know how to be. It doesn’t say, “For God so loved only me that God Gave the only Son.”

We ought to be cautious if we are satisfied with a private and personal faith that ignores the pain of the world.

Easter is bigger than that .

In the cross, God took on the pain and brokenness of the world. On Easter, God showed the depth, the breadth, the width of divine love for the world. There is no pain, no experience we can have that God has not experienced. Will you carry the depth of that belovedness with you into the world?

After the hallelujahs are sung today, we go back into a world that needs to be reminded of our connectedness, our belovedness, our family status, as members of the household of God.

When we see people grieving in pain and loss— we behold our mother . We take them into our circle of concern. Their pain and loss become something that matters to us, personally.

When people build dividing walls between us, the categories that separate us, we are reminded to behold our mother, our sibling . Their exclusion becomes our exclusion, something that matters to us, personally.

When we offer compassion to people whose experiences are different than ours, we are reminded to behold our mother, our siblings, our family . We love them because God so loved the world. God has declared them beloved. We behold each other as family, and we work to not re-assemble the dividing walls between us.

Jesus’ resurrection shows us the depth of God’s love for the world. As we race to the tomb today, as light dawns on a weary world, may understanding also dawn on us. God’s love for the world is love for each of us. And it is love without limits, dividing walls, or exclusion.

Go be the beloved disciple. Make sure others know their belovedness too. Amen.

Sermon 04.13.2025: Palm Sunday: Protest is an Act of Faith

Sun, 13 Apr 2025 16:52:13 GMT

As Jesus enters Jerusalem, he is greeted by raucous crowds. It is a celebration of him. It is also a counter protest to Rome. The crowds have gathered and are crying out "hosanna", which means "save us".

Save us from injustice. Save us from cruelty. Save us from crushing poverty.

Jesus does not silence the crowds. And he responds to their cries by weeping over Jerusalem and by turning over tables in the Temple.

Scripture

Luke 19:29-48

When he had come near Bethphage and Bethany, at the place called the Mount of Olives, he sent two of the disciples, saying, “Go into the village ahead of you, and as you enter it you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden. Untie it and bring it here. If anyone asks you, ‘Why are you untying it?’ just say this, ‘The Lord needs it.’” So those who were sent departed and found it as he had told them. As they were untying the colt, its owners asked them, “Why are you untying the colt?” They said, “The Lord needs it.” Then they brought it to Jesus; and after throwing their cloaks on the colt, they set Jesus on it. As he rode along, people kept spreading their cloaks on the road. As he was now approaching the path down from the Mount of Olives, the whole multitude of the disciples began to praise God joyfully with a loud voice for all the deeds of power that they had seen, saying, “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!” Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to him, “Teacher, order your disciples to stop.” He answered, “I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out.”

As he came near and saw the city, he wept over it, saying, “If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace! But now they are hidden from your eyes. Indeed, the days will come upon you, when your enemies will set up ramparts around you and surround you, and hem you in on every side. They will crush you to the ground, you and your children within you, and they will not leave within you one stone upon another; because you did not recognize the time of your visitation from God.” Then he entered the temple and began to drive out those who were selling things there; and he said, “It is written, ‘My house shall be a house of prayer’; but you have made it a den of robbers.” Every day he was teaching in the temple. The chief priests, the scribes, and the leaders of the people kept looking for a way to kill him; but they did not find anything they could do, for all the people were spellbound by what they heard.

Sermon

We’re told a multitude of disciples began to praise God joyfully with a loud voice, as Jesus entered Jerusalem on a colt. They cry out, “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! ”.

They are quoting Psalm 118.

But the connections in the two texts goes much deeper. These texts are each subversive in their own way. They use perfectly acceptable behavior in ways that turn the status quo on its ear.

Perhaps this is language we’ve grown up hearing, so it doesn’t feel particularly subversive to us. But gods in antiquity were detached, angry, fearsome, and stern. Gods were not described as either being “ good ” or as being full of “ steadfast love .” The Hebrew root of “ steadfast love ”, or “ hesed ”, is the word for a mother’s womb. The powerful love that gives and nurtures life.

So, by describing God’s love as good, nurturing, steadfast, and eternal, the Psalmist is making a radical claim. And even if we might be familiar with his language choices, don’t think the claim isn’t still radical today. We live in a world where people, even people in this very room, live as if they are unloved or unlovable. Or we live as if we believe that God is out there, just waiting to judge and condemn us.

Friends, hear the good news in Psalm 118. “O give thanks to the Lord, for God is GOOD; Gods steadfast LOVE endures FOREVER!”

And the Psalmist doesn’t just leave us with that claim. The psalmist reminds his listeners that God has saved in the past and then turns to the future, making claims and requests of God. “Save us, we beseech you, O Lord!” In this psalm, thanks and praise and cries for help are all mixed together in the same breath.

Out of my distress I called on the Lord;

the Lord answered me and set me in a broad place.

With the Lord on my side I do not fear.

What can mortals do to me?

The Lord is on my side to help me;

I shall look in triumph on those who hate me.

It is better to take refuge in the Lord

than to put confidence in mortals.

It is better to take refuge in the Lord

than to put confidence in princes.

This psalm is often sung at Passover, when the Hebrew people remember the formative events of the Exodus story. And the act of remembering the past is not just to remember the ‘good ol’ days.’

We remember the past to create a new and better future.

Remembering subverts the world of death and pain in which we often find ourselves by insisting that the God to whom we give our praise and thanks is not done with creation.

God has provided help for God’s people in the past. And God is the God whose steadfast love endures forever. So, we’re called to remember as an act of faith for a future in which God will deliver and save again.

So, when Luke’s audience heard the account of the entry into Jerusalem, “blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord”, they would have heard the connection to Psalm 118.

By quoting Psalm 118, Luke is making a claim about how God is acting through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. “O give thanks to the Lord, for God is good; God’s steadfast love endures forever.” This entry into Jerusalem, this beginning of our most Holy Week, is bathed in the language of God’s saving, steadfast love that endures forever.

Luke takes the subversive Psalm 118 and runs with it. He gives us a lot of details about how Jesus orchestrated this event. Why do we care where the colt came from? We care about it because it shows that Jesus planned this entry with great detail. This was not a spontaneous moment in Jesus’ life.

Every year, the Roman governor of Judea would ride up to Jerusalem from his coastal residence in the west to be in the city for Passover—the Jewish festival that swelled Jerusalem’s population from its usual 50,000 to at least 200,000. The Roman governor would come to town during a celebration of Liberation with a visible reminder of his military might and power, to make sure nobody got any actual liberating ideas while they celebrated the liberating holiday of Passover. Roman governors did not want their occupied citizens remembering the past in order to make a better future.

Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan describe it this way in their book, The Last Week: What the Gospels Really Teach About Jesus’ Last Days in Jerusalem:

“A visual panoply of imperial power: cavalry on horses, foot solders, leather armor, helmets, weapons, banners, golden eagles mounted on poles, sun glinting on metal and gold. Sounds: the marching of feet, the creaking of leather, the clinking of bridles, the beating of drums. The swirling of dust. The eyes of the silent onlookers, some curious, some awed, some resentful.”

Additionally, tradition claimed that the Messiah would enter into Jerusalem for the final battle for salvation from the Mount of Olives, at the other end of town from the Roman governor. So Jesus begins his “triumphal entry” into Jerusalem from the Mount of Olives. But rather than entering on a horse, as the governor was doing on the other side of town, or surrounded by an army, as the governor was, Jesus enters on a colt, surrounded by children and disciples.

Jesus takes all of the traditions of kingship, of messianic deliverance, and honor and turns them upside down, an act of civil protest.

The crowds spread out their cloaks. They run ahead and follow behind, shouting, “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!” And since they are talking about Jesus as the king, and not the Roman Caesar, their words are treasonous, calling for an overthrow of an immoral regime.

The Pharisees try to get Jesus to silence the crowd with their treasonous claims. No doubt they feared the way the current administration would punish them for this act of speaking out. They didn’t want to be on a watch list of the Department of Justice. They didn’t want their funding to be cut. We understand the Pharisees because we see it playing out today in our own country as universities, businesses, and law firms try to stay on the good side of a government that is supposed to be for all of us.

Jesus’ entry on a colt unmasks the charade of power the governor is enacting across town that would tell us that political might and wealth will have the final say.

We know how the story will play out for Jesus. Unlike the crowds, caught up in seeing Jesus through their preconceptions and their hopes he would overthrow Rome, we know that he entered the gates of the city to suffer. We know that he entered the gates to die.

And just as we are called to believe that God’s steadfast love endures forever, so are we called to believe that we are to follow Jesus through the gates of the city. We enter with him into his radical claim that God is not yet done with this world.

We remember the past actions in order to re-member the future.

We claim that the suffering and death of this world do not win, even if that’s what we see around us.

We claim the powers and principalities of this world do not win, even if they seem to be winning right now.

It is God’s love that endures forever, even beyond death on a cross. It is God’s love that triumphs.

So, we enter the gates of the city with Jesus.

We find concrete actions that show the world that their preconceptions are wrong.

We stand up for the downtrodden.

We have solidarity with the outcast.

We give our voice to those whose voices are being silenced.

We invite people to join us in love, rather than out of fear.

We care for our environment and our earth as if stewardship is different than domination.

We show the world we help ourselves by helping others.

We protest, with our lives and our bodies.

Many of us have attended protests in this country, in support of or in opposition to whoever is in power, in support of causes that matter to us, in opposition to larger societal harms.

I’ve been thinking about the contrast between how the governor and Jesus entered the gates of the city, and it has me noticing the contrasts in how followers of Jesus often enter the gates today.

To be clear, none of us, as followers of Christ, perfectly live into our call to follow where Jesus leads us. I want to own my own failure in this regard as we consider this. And I recognize it is a fine line between protesting unjust situations and disrupting legal events. How we navigate that line is worth conversation. Jesus’ protest was a peaceful one, not a January 6 style mob.

But Palm Sunday was protest. It was intended to be a contrast between the power of Rome and the power of God. It was intended to remind people of the liberating power of God that was celebrated in Passover, as they remembered liberation from slavery in Egypt in the time of Moses. If God could defeat Pharaoh back then, surely God could defeat Caesar right now.

And if you aren’t sure Jesus would do something so political as protest, I will remind us of what Jesus does after the parade. He looks out at the beautiful city, and he weeps and then he rages.

Jesus cries out, ‘If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace! But now they are hidden from your eyes… Then he entered the temple and began to drive out those who were selling things there.'

Jesus looks at Jerusalem, and her particular political problems—Roman occupation, poverty, an unjust tax system, etc.—and first weeps and then rages. He wants them to recognize the things that make for peace. But instead, they cheer for deeds of power. He wanted them to recognize the colt as an animal of peace, not war. He wants them to follow a God of love, but they have commercialized God’s house and are using it as a way to make profit.

Jesus will protest Rome’s injustice. He’ll also protest the ways his own people seek to mirror Rome’s injustice. Jesus is not partisan. And we would do well to remember today that Jesus’ radical message is bigger than any political party’s platform. Jesus is not partisan, but he sure is political, because the lives of the people he loves and died to save are played out on a political stage.

Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem marks the beginning of Holy Week. We will gather again on Friday night for Good Friday worship at 7pm.

On Good Friday the ruling political forces of the day tortured and executed an innocent man. They sacrificed the innocent and blameless to protect their own status and power. We remember the past to create a new and better future.

And then on Easter, we’ll gather again in celebration, because on the third day Jesus was raised from the dead, revealing not only human injustice but also unmasking the lie that might makes right.

We still live in a country confused and distorted by power and greed. It did not begin at the inauguration in 2025. It has been a part of us all along. But when we see people turning against their neighbors, and capitulating to demands of a would be king, we see, again, the reason Jesus protested.

When we see due process being erased, we see, again, the reason Jesus protested. There is legitimate reason to fear where this rhetoric and the actions arising from it might take us.

The current rhetoric is leading us to construct a modern false idol out of power and privilege. We protest against the idolatrous notion that we can ensure the safety of some by sacrificing the hopes of others. No matter where we fall on the political spectrum, we must respect the dignity of every human being, and we must seek the common good above all else.

As a nation, we have always been struggling with which gates are the right ones for us to enter.

Do we enter the gate with the parade of military war horses and political power? Or do we enter the gate, waving palm branches and praising God’s way of peace?

The crowd that Luke describes was making a sacrificial claim. By cheering his triumphal entry from the Mount of Olives, by throwing cloaks on the ground as they cheer, “Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the Lord!”, the crowd is being treasonous to the Roman Empire. They were making a claim for God’s rule over Caesar’s rule. “Long live the king (of David!).”

Through which gates will you enter?

The way we choose to enter the gates of the city makes a claim about what we believe and who we choose to follow.

This week, as we prepare for the celebration of Easter, let us ask God to help us set down our worry and despair so we can join in God’s protest. Let us ask God to help us live in confidence of God’s steadfast love that endures forever. Let us ask God to help us protest the injustice we see around us and speak clearly and peacefully against violent and dehumanizing rhetoric when those who would lead us try to lead us toward the wrong gate.

Let us spend time in the biblical text, preparing our hearts and minds for the good news of Easter that only arrives through the suffering of the cross.

Let us pray for the courage to enter through the gates of righteousness accompanying our Lord through the final days of his earthly life.

Amen.

Sermon 04.06.2025: Lent 5: Calling Each Other In

Sun, 06 Apr 2025 01:11:24 GMT

It is easy these days to say who we are against. Maybe it has always been easy to do so.

What is harder is to create space for people to change their minds, change their views, change their behavior.

As Jesus approaches Jerusalem, he stops in Jericho and accepts an invitation to eat at the home of someone who society wanted to cancel.

How can the story of Zacchaeus help us give space for each other?

Scripture

Luke 18:31-19:10

Then he took the twelve aside and said to them, “See, we are going up to Jerusalem, and everything that is written about the Son of Man by the prophets will be accomplished. For he will be handed over to the Gentiles; and he will be mocked and insulted and spat upon. After they have flogged him, they will kill him, and on the third day he will rise again.” But they understood nothing about all these things; in fact, what he said was hidden from them, and they did not grasp what was said.

As he approached Jericho, a blind man was sitting by the roadside begging. When he heard a crowd going by, he asked what was happening. They told him, “Jesus of Nazareth is passing by.” Then he shouted, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” Those who were in front sternly ordered him to be quiet; but he shouted even more loudly, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” Jesus stood still and ordered the man to be brought to him; and when he came near, he asked him, “What do you want me to do for you?” He said, “Lord, let me see again.” Jesus said to him, “Receive your sight; your faith has saved you.” Immediately he regained his sight and followed him, glorifying God; and all the people, when they saw it, praised God.

He entered Jericho and was passing through it. A man was there named Zacchaeus; he was a chief tax collector and was rich. He was trying to see who Jesus was, but on account of the crowd he could not, because he was short in stature. So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore tree to see him, because he was going to pass that way. When Jesus came to the place, he looked up and said to him, “Zacchaeus, hurry and come down; for I must stay at your house today.” So he hurried down and was happy to welcome him. All who saw it began to grumble and said, “He has gone to be the guest of one who is a sinner.” Zacchaeus stood there and said to the Lord, “Look, half of my possessions, Lord, I will give to the poor; and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay back four times as much.” Then Jesus said to him, “Today salvation has come to this house, because he too is a son of Abraham. For the Son of Man came to seek out and to save the lost.”

Sermon

When I was reading scripture last week for Victor's sermon about the lost sheep, I noticed the passage from Luke 15 began with this sentence:

Now all the tax-collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to him. And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, ‘This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.

You know who else was grumbling about this as he typed out his Gospel? Luke was.

Because Zacchaeus was one of those tax collectors coming near Jesus to listen to him. Zacchaeus was someone who made money by taking money from his fellow Palestinians to pay Rome their tributes.

And while Rome expected a certain amount of money per person, they didn’t dictate how much a tax collector could collect. We’re told that Zacchaeus was a chief tax collector and was very rich. Which means that he collected more from his people than he was turning over to Rome. Zacchaeus was getting rich at the expense of his neighbors.

So I can imagine that when he would have asked if he could go to the front of the crowd to see Jesus, he might have not received a welcome reception. It is understandable.

And it reminds us of both the mystery of God’s ways and the vastness of God’s mercy.

God’s ways are not our ways. God’s mercy extends beyond the limits of our mercy.

And Jesus invites himself over to stay at Zacchaeus’ house.

It must have killed Luke to include this story in his gospel. He’s spent the whole book talking about how God is coming to bring JUSTICE and to restore EQUITY and to LIFT UP the poor and to BRING DOWN the rich.

We want Jesus to be the houseguest of people whose homes are being foreclosed, not with the people who invented subprime loans!

We want Jesus to visit with the unemployed, not with the corporate execs who sent jobs overseas!

“He has gone to be a guest of one who is a sinner,” the crowd grumbles.

And we grumble too.

Luke must have been horrified by Jesus ’behavior! And yet the story still made it in the Bible, which shows that even Gospel writers have their preconceptions thrown out the window when Jesus is around.

This great reversal unleashed in the person of Jesus of Nazareth is not limited to the song Mary sang when she was pregnant with Jesus. Remember that?

He has brought down the powerful from their thrones,

and lifted up the lowly;

he has filled the hungry with good things,

and sent the rich away empty. (1:52)

This reversal, apparently, also has room for Jesus to publicly announce that he’s eating dinner with Zacchaeus.

Whenever I think that I’ve got a handle on what Jesus will do, with whom he will associate, it turns out I’m all wrong. Rather than the rich person being sent away empty, he’s having dinner with Jesus.

From the message of Luke’s gospel, Zacchaeus should be called out .

But Jesus, instead, calls Zacchaeus in . To call someone in, is not to ignore the harms they have called. It doesn’t give them a pass for bad behavior. It is the way we recognize the humanity in every single person. Both the tax collector and the person they have defrauded are beloved by God.

The phrase ‘calling in’ was coined in 2013 by Ngoc Loan Tran, a then 18 year old trans writer and activist who said, “I picture calling as a practice of pulling folks back in who have strayed from us…a practice of loving each other enough to allow each other to make mistakes, a practice of loving ourselves enough to know that what we’re trying to do here is a radical unlearning of everything we have been configured to believe is normal.” [2]

Jesus won’t give up on us even when we have good reason to give up on each other. Jesus calls Zacchaeus in. And Zacchaeus recognizes this for the Good News it is. “So he hurried down and was happy to welcome Jesus.”

And Jesus announces, “Today salvation has come to this house, because he too is a Son of Abraham. For the Son of Man came to seek out and save the lost.”

The lost sheep. The lost coin. The lost prodigal son. We heard those parables last week.

From lost sheep to flunkies who collect taxes for the occupying Roman forces, the sons and daughters of Abraham are a diverse lot, and they all are worth seeking and finding. Jesus is claiming all sort of people for the family of God, these lost and found children of Abraham.

Who are we claiming as family?

It’s tough, this family business.

Because we want to be welcoming and inclusive. But there are just some people who are mean as snakes and causing all sorts of damage in the world and we are certain Jesus will agree with us about this because these people are violating everything the Bible ever told us about how to treat each other.

And so we want their path to be blocked, the way they have made things difficult for us, we want to keep them away from Jesus.

Who is Zacchaeus for you right now?

Who are the people you don’t want to go out of your way to help, because they are collecting extra taxes and are hurting your friends and your community?

I hope you know by now that I never preach to you something I don’t need to hear for myself. And I think this is the issue of our time.

We have to keep standing up for justice, and for the people who are being harmed in all of the political maneuvering going on these days. But we can’t let ourselves become the problem we are trying to transform. We can’t meet hate with hate. We can only meet it with love.

And we have to believe it is possible for people to change. Because if we think it is impossible, well, what are we even doing here.

Believing change is impossible denies the change that has happened even in our own selves.

Who here believes every single thing they believed when they were 5? Only 5-year-olds better be raising their hands right now.

I grew up in a loving family, but a family that sometimes told racist jokes and in a culture that normalized racism. Have I removed every bit of racism from myself? No, I know there is still work to be done in me. But I stopped laughing at racist jokes when I was a teen. And I started telling my dad to stop telling those jokes a little after that and helped him understand why they were problematic. And he stopped telling those jokes too.

We can all change. We have all changed. We cannot stop believing change is possible. And if we want the Zacchaeus’s of the world to change, we have to make room for them to join in our work of justice when they do change.

Following Christ’s call is radical and sometimes upsetting, but it brings transformation for everyone involved.

“Today salvation has come to this house,

because he too is a son of Abraham.

For the Son of Man came to seek out and to save the lost.”

Zacchaeus recognized that for the Good News it was and then he responded.

“Look, half of my possessions, Lord, I will give to the poor; and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay back four times as much.”

I wonder how people felt about Zacchaeus after this announcement. Did they welcome him at coffee hour? Did they accept his ‘dirty’ money? I suspect they did, because, money . But did they accept him as they took his money?

If we want people to be transformed, to stop being mean snakes who hurt people, we have to be there for them when they are being transformed. We have to make space for them at the dinner table.

When people are hard to hate up close, we have to get closer. Zacchaeus, I’m coming to your house to stay with you.

I’m not going to invite the people I pictured as Zacchaeus over to my house for dinner tonight. I say that to you as a confession, not as something I am proud of.

But I will do my best to remember, in my heart, in my mind, and in my actions, that they are still God’s beloved children and still capable of the same redemption that I have experienced through Jesus Christ.

I will do my best to remember, in my heart, in my mind, and in my actions, that they are children of Abraham, as I am, as you are. Because I want the justice we pursue to restore me as much as it restores the person who has harmed me.

May God’s love, justice, and mercy meet each of us, and all of us, exactly where we are, so we may all claim our space in the family of God.

Amen.

2 Loretta Ross, p. 30, Calling In: How to Start Making Change with Those You’d Rather Cancel

Sermon 03.30.2025: Lent 4: Find Your Way Home

Sun, 30 Mar 2025 21:44:34 GMT

The Good Shepherd calls home all of the sheep, even "those" sheep. No matter how far you've wandered, no matter who has tried to separate you from God's fold, Jesus is waiting. It's time for a homecoming.

Scripture

Luke 15:1-32

The Parable of the Lost Sheep

Now all the tax-collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to him.And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, ‘This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.’

So he told them this parable: ‘Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until he finds it? When he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders and rejoices. And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and neighbours, saying to them, “Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.” Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous people who need no repentance.

The Parable of the Lost Coin

‘Or what woman having ten silver coins, if she loses one of them, does not light a lamp, sweep the house, and search carefully until she finds it?When she has found it, she calls together her friends and neighbours, saying, “Rejoice with me, for I have found the coin that I had lost.” Just so, I tell you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents.’

The Parable of the Prodigal and His Brother

Then Jesus said, ‘There was a man who had two sons. The younger of them said to his father, “Father, give me the share of the property that will belong to me.” So he divided his property between them. A few days later the younger son gathered all he had and travelled to a distant country, and there he squandered his property in dissolute living. When he had spent everything, a severe famine took place throughout that country, and he began to be in need. So he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed the pigs.

He would gladly have filled himself with the pods that the pigs were eating; and no one gave him anything. But when he came to himself he said, “How many of my father’s hired hands have bread enough and to spare, but here I am dying of hunger! I will get up and go to my father, and I will say to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands.’ ” So he set off and went to his father. But while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him. Then the son said to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.” But the father said to his slaves, “Quickly, bring out a robe—the best one—and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. And get the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate; for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!” And they began to celebrate.

‘Now his elder son was in the field; and when he came and approached the house, he heard music and dancing. He called one of the slaves and asked what was going on. He replied, “Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fatted calf, because he has got him back safe and sound.” Then he became angry and refused to go in. His father came out and began to plead with him. But he answered his father, “Listen! For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command; yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came back, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fatted calf for him!” Then the father said to him, “Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.” ’

Sermon

Acknowledgment

This sermon is a tribute to the Rev. Elder Freda Smith (1935-2019) of the Metropolitan Community Churches. Rev. Smith was a pioneer of feminism, gender-inclusive language and LGBTQIA rights. In 1971, she testified before the California State Assembly and helped overturn laws that criminalized homosexuality. Her 1972 sermon “Purple Grass” inspires today's sermon and is quoted liberally. [1]

Soul Train

Please take a good look around you. Look at someone else. Do you see anyone who looks like you? No, you did not. My spiritual she-ro, the Rev. Elder Freda Smith [2] used to say:

There's no one who ever lived, or ever will live, who is exactly like you. Even if you have an identical twin, they're not exactly like you. God does not turn out souls on an assembly line. Each one is unique. When God creates, God uses variation. Even if in every way someone were your identical twin, they would not be like you because your souls would be different. Your soul has your dreams, your experiences, your appetite, [your passions, your longings] your essence. Our bodies change, but our souls are forever. [3]

Our souls reflect our nature. You’ve had one since your first breath. Little beings are not born as blank slates, No matter how parents, pastors, teachers and friends may try, no one can overwrite the soul. Little creatures are born with personality. Their appetites, their temperaments, their charisma, their character—already formed and ready for this world.

No matter who you are, no matter where you are on life’s journey, you and your soul are welcome here, and you are invited to make this flock your home.

Now, let us worship God and nourish our souls.

____

The Lost Sheep

As a child, I learned about Luke 15 through an old hymn called “The Ninety and Nine”. [4]

1. There were ninety and nine that safely lay

In the shelter of the fold

But one was out on the hills away,

Far off from the gates of gold—

Away on the mountains wild and bare,

Away from the tender Shepherd’s care.

2. Lord, thou hast here thy ninety and nine.

Are they not enough for thee?

But the Shepherd made answer: ’This of mine

Has wandered away from me.

And though the road be rough and steep,

I go to the [mountain] to find my sheep.

I go to the desert to find my sheep.

3. But none of the ransomed ever knew

How deep were the waters crossed,

Nor how dark was the night the Lord pass’d through

Ere [to find the] sheep that was lost.

Out in the desert, [hear] its cry—

Sick and helpless and ready to die.

4. But all thru’ the mountains, thunder-riv’n,

And up from the rocky steep,

There arose such a cry to the gate of Heav’n,

“Rejoice, I have found my sheep!”

And the angels echoed around the throne,

“Rejoice, for [God] brings back [God’s] own!”

Pioneering feminist, Freda Smith, used to begin her sermon proclaiming herself a sheep expert.

I’m from [Pocatello] Idaho, and I'm going baaaaack! You don’t have to be around sheep too long before you discover that sheep are not independent thinkers. They follow one another. In fact, if one of your sheep goes off the edge of a cliff, you’re probably going to lose the whole flock, one after the other, like California drivers in the fog. [5]

Therefore, by definition, a stray sheep is very un-sheep-like. It has done something different from the rest of the flock. How could it be different? Maybe it had a different appetite, dietary needs. Maybe Little Sheep had to honor the uniqueness of its soul.

Purple Grass

Henry David Thoreau’s essay [6] “The Purple Grasses” says that, even though grass is green to most people, there are also purple grasses. Maybe when all of the other sheep had an appetite for green grass, this little sheep was born with an appetite for purple grass.

Can you imagine Little Sheep’s parents?

Oh dear —you know how parents are— Little Sheep, don’t be different, please. Please don't be different. Little Sheep wondered, “How do you not be different?”

If you're different, you’re gonna be different. You can’t lie about it. Now someone in here is thinking “but I am a good liar.” Really? The way that God created us, it’s impossible for us to tell a lie without doing violence to our bodies. That’s the secret behind the Lie Detector Test. You’re being untrue. You’re being false. Dishonesty does violence to the body of the one who lies and to the body of those who experience the lie. [7]

Did you get a little blue sheep sticker as you entered? Take a look.

So Little Sheep said, “OK, Mother Sheep. I won’t even think about purple grass anymore.” (Have you ever tried not to think about something?) But Little Sheep could hear the others gossiping. There’s something peculiar about that one.

Its wool has a funny texture and sometimes its color ain’t right. The way it talks the way it prances around. Have you seen the way it holds its little shank?

Mother Sheep got so worried, she took Little Sheep to the sheep psychiatrist. She said, “Doctor, I’m so worried about my Little Sheep.” And the doctor says, “it looks like a perfectly good little sheep to me.” And she says, “But it’s got an appetite for purple grass.” “Oh…” says the doctor says. “Don’t worry. It’s probably just a stage. It’ll grow out of it, it’ll learn to like what’s really good for it.”

The Categorical Imperative: Be True to You

So, Little Sheep grew and befriended an Older Wiser Sheep who came to Little Sheep one day., “Little Sheep, you should’t eat purple grass.”

Little Sheep said, “Well, why not? I was born with an appetite for it. It doesn’t hurt anybody.” Older Wiser Sheep answered, “If you were older and wiser like I am, you’d be concerned about right and wrong. And if you were concerned about right and wrong, you would have studied ethics. And if you’d have studied ethics, you would have learned about Immanuel Kant’s categorical imperative.”(See, I told you it was older and wiser.) “And if you’d studied Immanuel Kant’s categorical imperative, you’d know that categorical means everybody, and imperative means you must do it. The categorical imperative has two parts. First part: you should always treat others as an end in themselves, and never as a means to an end. People are not transactions. The second part says that you should always act so that the principle of your action could be made a universal principle. Little Sheep, do you realize that if all sheep ate purple grass, there’s not enough to go around. We’d all starve to death. You could set a precedent and be the end of the sheep race.”

Little Sheep said, “Well, I can’t argue with Immanuel Kant, but I can argue with you. It seems to me that my principles would lead everyone to eat what’s good for them. That way, there’ll be plenty to go around. That way, everybody can be happy.”

The Scapegoat (Scapesheep) [8]

Later, Little Sheep thought, “I did pretty good against that one, but here comes the Flock Moralist.”

Flock Moralist said, “Little sheep, you should not eat Purple Grass!”

Little Sheep said, “Well, why not? I was born with an appetite for it. It’s around, if you know where to look for it.”

And the Flock Moralist said, “But the Good Shepherd doesn’t want you to eat purple grass.”

Little Sheep said, “Are you sure the Good Shepherd doesn’t want me to eat Purple Grass?"

Flock Moralist said, “Of course I’m sure. Who do you think I am? I stand behind the pulpit every Sunday morning. I’m on the TikTok, I’m on YouTube! Of course I know what the Good Shepherd wants.”

Little sheep said, “Well, okay, then. I won’t even think about purple grass. I won’t even think about thinking about it.” (Have you ever tried not to think about thinking about something?)

Choosing to Hide

It wasn’t long until all Little Sheep could do was think about what it wasn’t going to think about. Obsessed and hungry and surrounded by green grass eaters blatantly eating green grass all over the place, Little Sheep finally snapped. “Who cares! Who cares what the Good Shepherd thinks anyway? There probably isn’t a Good Shepherd. Whoever saw the Good Shepherd? There probably isn’t such a thing as a Good Shepherd. Probably just something that flock made up to keep me in line. And who needs that flock?”

So, Little Sheep ran away through the mountains, into the wilderness, and did not live happily ever after.

Something was wrong. Just as Little Sheep’s soul needed purple grass, Little Sheep also ended the Good Shepherd, who left a big hollow place in Little Sheep’s disillusioned soul.

Paul Tillich, the theologian, said that faith is a bedrock of our existence. [9]

Hebrews 11: “Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.”

Little Sheep started questioning everything. “What about truth? Whoever saw truth, whoever touched truth? Maybe there really is no such thing. Whoever saw justice. Maybe might does make right. What about love? If I’m cut off from everything, am I still able to love?”

Little Sheep was lost.

All because it was told, “There’s no place for you in the flock.” What about immigrants, transgender children of God, people who just don’t fit the dominant culture? What about public servants and scientists? Artists, musicians? What about our neighbors—Muslims? Jews? Atheists? What’s so wrong about being a Liberal? A Progressive? Moderates and Old School Conservatives?

There were ninety and nine that safely lay

In the shelter of the fold

But one was out on the hills away,

Far off from the gates of gold…

Lord, thou hast here thy ninety and nine.

Are [we] not enough for thee?

We’ve stayed here all this time. We’ve never, ever wandered off. But that one, you don’t want that one. It never fit in, always was strange.

In John 10, Jesus says: “All who came before me are thieves and bandits… The thief comes only to steal, kill and destroy. I come that they may have life and have it abundantly. I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep… I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold. I must bring them also…So there will be one flock, one shepherd.

And none of the ransomed ever knew

how deep were the waters crossed,

nor how dark was the night that the shepherd went through,

ere to find that sheep that was lost.

Can any night be too dark?

Can any experience place us beyond the reach of God?

Out in the desert, hear its cay

sick and helpless and ready to die.

lost and helpless and ready to die.

Freda Smith says: “I can imagine that little sheep looking up and seeing, coming into that lost place, the Good Shepherd saying, behold, I stand at your door and I knock. And if anyone opens the door, I will enter in.”

Little Sheep just looks at the shepherd in that place of all places, and saying, “Go away. Please just go away and leave me alone.”

And the Good Shepherd comes closer, “All who come to me, I will in no way cast out.”

Little Sheep says, “No, you don't want me. Just go away.”

Good Shepherd asks, “Who told you that I didn't want you?”

“The flock moralist, the one who stands behind the pulpit on Sunday mornings, the one on TikTok and YouTube. She told me that you don’t want me.”

The Good Shepherd says, “I have come that you should have life, and that you should have it abundantly. Come home, Little Sheep.”

Little Sheep shakes it head, “You don’t understand. I was born with an appetite for purple grass.

The good shepherd says, “Before you were formed within your mother, I knew you. I was there. Who do think made the purple grass anyway? Come home, I’ve prepared a place for you. Come home.”

All of us are sinners in the hands of a loving God. [10] Come home. Let God fill that hollow place. Fill it to overflowing.

Then all thru’ the mountains, thunder-riv’n,

And up from the [stormy deep],

There arose such a cry to the gate of Heav’n,

“Rejoice, I have found my sheep!”

And the angels echoed around the throne,

“Rejoice, for [God] brings back [God’s] own!”

In the name of the Good Shepherd, it shall be so.

Amen.

1 Kittredge Cherry, Freda Smith: LGBTQ activist, first woman ordained by Metropolitan Community Churches, December 3, 2024, accessed online at < https://qspirit.net/freda-smith/>

2 I regard Freda as a mentor, highly-influential in my pastoral formation.

3 “Purple Grass / Rev. Elder Freda Smith” Resurrection Metropolitan Community Church, September 12, 2010, Sunday Worship, 9 am, Adapted from podcast transcription.

4 Elizabeth Clephane (1830–1869) wrote the words to this hymn, originally called “The Lost Lamb”, alt. < https://www.hymnologyarchive.com/ninety-and-nine#:~:text=Musical evangelist and composer Ira,upon its world-wide mission.>

5 Resurrection podcast

6 < https://stoicbreviary.blogspot.com/p/text-henry-david-thoreau-excursionspoems.html>

7 Brinke, Lee & Carney, “The physiology of (dis)honesty: does it impact health?” ScienceDirect, accessed at: < https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S2352250X15001980#:~:text=Dishonesty is positively associated with,can have negative health outcomes.>

8 See Rene Girard, The Scapegoat.

9 Faith is ‘"the state of being ultimately concerned.” Paul Tillich, 1957, < https://utppublishing.com/doi/pdf/10.3138/uram.16.1- 2.149#:~:text=Paul Tillich has defined faith, or subject of one’s faith.>

10 < https://brianzahnd.com/2015/07/sinners-in-the-hands-of-a-loving-god/>

Sermon 03.23.2025: Lent 3: Fear, Faith, Figs, and Foxes

Sun, 23 Mar 2025 20:58:47 GMT

Jesus continues his journey to Jerusalem and his disciples ask him a question as they walk. They want him to answer the questions we always want God to answer for us too—why do bad things happen to good people?

Join us as we consider Jesus' answer to the question.

Scripture

Luke 13:1-9, 31-35

At that very time there were some present who told him about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices. He asked them, ‘Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did. Or those eighteen who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them—do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others living in Jerusalem? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did.’

Then he told this parable: ‘A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard; and he came looking for fruit on it and found none. So he said to the gardener, “See here! For three years I have come looking for fruit on this fig tree, and still I find none. Cut it down! Why should it be wasting the soil?” He replied, “Sir, let it alone for one more year, until I dig round it and put manure on it. If it bears fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down.” ’

At that very hour some Pharisees came and said to him, ‘Get away from here, for Herod wants to kill you.’ He said to them, ‘Go and tell that fox for me, “Listen, I am casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow, and on the third day I finish my work. Yet today, tomorrow, and the next day I must be on my way, because it is impossible for a prophet to be killed away from Jerusalem.” Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing! See, your house is left to you. And I tell you, you will not see me until the time comes when you say, “Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.” ’

Sermon

Our Sermon Series materials for this week wanted the focus to be on the tension between resting and growing. And we’ll get to that in a while when we look at the fig tree. Resting and growing are important in our life of faith, but I want to start by focusing on the tower of Siloam part of the story.

Because there are a lot of stories in the news these days of good people’s lives being impacted in dangerous ways by people with bad intentions. And I’ve heard many people say something to the effect that “God is testing us” right now.

Let’s be clear, what is happening in the world right now is not God’s fault.

It is ours.

God is an agent of love, justice and mercy.

Behaviors of hatred, injustice and cruelty are not inspired by or caused by God, but by humans.

And we may not be the people enforcing unjust orders, but we do share complicity in having created a system that allows this abuse.

This is not God’s work. It is human work.

And Jesus ’followers want him to answer the questions we need answers for too— where is God in the midst of bad things? Why do bad things happen to good people?

Why are people being fired when they have been faithful in their work for our government?

Why are people being detained and tortured when their planes land at US airports, even when they have the right documentation of citizenship, or visas?

Why are good people losing access to health care, or the social security benefits to which they have contributed?

The list is long right now and it is right that we wonder and ponder where God is in the midst of it. It is right that we wonder and ponder where we are, or where should we be, in the midst of it.

Jesus, the ultimate “good people” is on his way to Jerusalem, where the “bad thing” of death on a cross will happen to him. So he’s not uninterested in this conversation, we can presume.

Jesus and his disciples seem to be reading the newspaper as they walk to Jerusalem. And they bring up the stories of the day to ask questions of their faith, which is what our faith ought to be able to do. We read the news in one hand, the Bible in the other, and see how they connect, or don’t connect, or leave us anxious, or hopeful, or just flummoxed and confused.

Some people had died when a tower in Siloam collapsed on them. We may not know where Siloam is, but this story reminds us of deaths from earthquakes, or mass shootings, or wildfires, or people who die too young from cancer, etc.—people who were just going about their lives when it all fell apart.

The other illustration in Luke’s account isn’t as clear. Some Galileans had been murdered by Pilate. The description is that their blood was mingled with their sacrifice, which tells us a few things.

One, they were in the temple in Jerusalem, because that’s the only place a good Jew would have been making sacrifices. These are faithful people, doing faithful things.

Two, this particular atrocity has political and not just religious implications because the Roman authorities normally left the religious life alone. They may have taxed you and kept you from civic and cultural freedom, but they tended to leave your religion alone.

But in this story, which is only recorded in Luke and not in any outside documents, Pilate has ignored the separation of church and state and has murdered people in the Temple as they are making sacrifice, mixing their blood with the sacrificial blood—desolating sacrilege.

Jesus, on his way to the Cross, had been calling people to repent and to prepare for the transformation of the world that was about to take place, and takes the time to address the misconceptions behind their questions.

Because a common assumption of people then, and also now, is that when bad things happen, we have somehow done something to deserve it. God is punishing us for our own sins or for the sins of our ancestors. We ask why God is testing us. Or we announce that God is punishing someone else.

Jesus stops them in their tracks. “Do you think that because these people suffered in this way that they were worse sinners than the other Galileans?”

Well, when he puts it that way, it doesn’t sound quite right.

Jesus won’t let us blame the victims of bad moments for accidents, or for our crimes.

Good people die in bad accidents and from cancer.

Bad people live to be 100 and die in their sleep.

Bad people die in bad accidents too, for that matter.

Blaming victims doesn’t change the fact that life is fragile, beautiful, and uncertain, and it does not change the real issue under our control.

Repentance.

“Do you really think those people are worse sinners than any of the rest of you?” Jesus asks. ”Whether you die when a tower collapses, or die quietly in your bed, don’t ask the wrong question. The real issue is repentance. Yes, life is fragile and short, so don’t worry about the righteousness of your neighbor. Worry about your own relationship with God. That ought to keep you plenty busy.”

And then Jesus goes on to talk about a fig tree.

We don’t know why someone planted a fig tree in the middle of a vineyard. Maybe it doesn’t belong there. But there it is. This tree has been in a guy’s vineyard for three years, which is plenty of time for a fig tree to start making figs, but it is barren. It is not doing its job. “Cut it down! ”, he says. Which is a perfectly reasonable thing to do. Property is valuable, so if something isn’t producing as it should, you get rid of it and plant something else.

But the gardener argues for the unrepentant fig tree. “One more year. If I just spread some manure around it, I’m sure it will produce figs.”

I don’t do much farming from my 9th floor condo, but I think this is probably not very good gardening advice. I do think it is a great illustration of the faithfulness of God.

Because God, like a gardener, gifts us with mercy beyond measure. Long after we should be moved out of the vineyard, God for reasons only God can understand, continues to prune us, continues to nurture us, continues to surround us with manure, continues to have faith in our potential.

When Jesus confronts the people about the Galileans and the Tower of Siloam folks, he tells them about a fig tree and then says, “What kind of fig tree are you? Are you producing fruit, or are you just taking up space?”

We want to ask, “What will keep us safe?”

God wants us to ask, “What can we do to bear fruit with the life we’ve been given?”

We ask the wrong questions. And maybe the fig tree story is to remind us to ask the right ones.

Because the truth is this—if God were in the business of handing out punishment as consequence for our behavior—none of us would be standing. The vineyard wouldn’t have a single fig tree left in it.

Thanks be to God for the unfathomable mercy of God that our little fig trees are still standing, still striving to be faithful disciples and working to bear fruit in a hungry world.

Our repentance does matter. Repentance, or turning back to God, should call you back to living for God, for standing up for justice, for actively seeking God’s kingdom on earth as a response to God’s love and mercy.

Repentance, for the record, doesn’t mean we think that somehow we will stop making mistakes, or start being perfect, or work our way into salvation. Repentance is the opposite of that. We repent because we acknowledge that we try to do it all on our own, and that we deny our created-ness and pretend we have it all together. Repentance is ultimately our acknowledgement that good things happen to bad people, or to us.

Repentance is also about owning our responsibility for the world we have, and working to fix the problems so we can create societal structures to protect people. Repentance is demanding change when our world does not reflect God’s dreams for us.

Repentance can involve protest, disobedience in the face of unjust laws, and standing firmly with the people being targeted.

When we get hung up on the fact, the truth , the reality , that bad things happen to good people, Jesus calls us to remember that good things happen to good people as well. It is in the good, the bad, and the boring, equally, that we are called to live out our calling to bear fruit.

As our passage continues, Jesus marches toward Good Friday and the cross, and he hears a report that Herod wants to kill him. “Tell that fox Im a little busy right now. He can leave a message.”

Herod has killed Jesus’ cousin John the Baptist, and is a real threat. Jesus isn’t being glib or in denial in the face of danger. Jesus isn’t saying danger isn’t real. He’s reminding us that very real threats do not have to define us or our actions. We still have to bear good fruit and do what God has called us to do, even in the face of Herod, terror, and falling towers.

As the story continues, Jesus laments over Jerusalem and uses my favorite imagery for God. “How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!”

I love the image of securely sheltering under God’s fluffy wings.

But remember what he just called Herod? And do you remember who foxes like to kill?

Chickens.

Jesus could have said, “Jerusalem, how often have I desired to gather your children together as a bear gathers her cubs in her arms, which are strong and have razor sharp claws.”

He doesn’t do that. He uses maternal, vulnerable, chicken-y illustrations in the same passage as he calls Herod a predatory, chicken hunting fox.

We worship a God who became human. And we may not think about how unusual that is in the history of gods people have worshiped. God chose to become one of us, in a vulnerable human body, subject to the same risks our human bodies face—foxes, falling towers, and all.

Earlier in the text, Jesus said instead of asking “how to be safe?” we should ask “how do we bear good fruit?” Here, instead of asking, “How do we not be afraid of what might happen?”, Jesus reminds us that while danger and risk is not optional for any of us, not even for him, fear is not our focus.

God is our focus, which gets us back to repentance, to turning back in God’s direction.

We live in a world that wants to focus our energy, our federal budget, and our animus toward those things and people we should fear. And the forces of destruction are scary. Jesus reminds us not to focus our energy on the wrong thing.

This week, as we read the newspaper, and watch the news on TV, I invite you to attend to the stories you encounter, and to the way they are being shared with you. Do the news stories lead you to focus on fear or on bearing good fruit in the world? Do they lead you to hope or despair? Do you need to listen to a different news source or maybe step away from the news for a minute if it is leading you only to fear?

Whatever may happen in the world this week, from towers falling to foxes in hen houses, may our faith in the God who fearlessly calls us in love, help us focus our energy toward bearing good fruit in the world.

We don’t know why our little fig trees have been planted in this particular vineyard, but here we are. May we plant deep roots of concern for our neighbors. May we grow strong in our faith, to withstand the storms of life. May our leaves provide cover to those in need of shade. May we bear fruit of repentance so all of God’s children may know of God’s love.

May it be so. Amen.

Sermon 03.16.2025: Lent 2: "Everything In Between" Faith & Works (Deacon Sunday)

Sun, 16 Mar 2025 20:47:34 GMT

The story of Mary and Martha is often painted as a story where one does right and one does wrong. We know, however, that life is often more complicated than that.

We know that faith is embodied through being present and taking action—and everything in between. Join us on this second Sunday in Lent as we consider, how can we live along the spectrum of faith and works.

Scripture

Luke 10:38-42

Now as they went on their way, he entered a certain village, where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home. She had a sister named Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to what he was saying. But Martha was distracted by her many tasks; so she came to him and asked, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her then to help me.” But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the the better part, which will not be taken away from her.’

Sermon

For centuries scholars and theologians have debated the importance of faith versus works. “Faith without works is dead,” declares James in chapter 2 verse 17. But then, Paul asserts: “…we hold that one is justified by faith apart from works…” Romans 3:28. And so, early on in Christendom, the false dichotomy of faith and works was born. I say “false” because I think most of us know that the two must go hand in hand, and a healthy life of faith integrates and includes both faith and works.

But in today’s scripture story of Mary and Martha, oftentimes the two are pitted against each other. And oftentimes, as a result, the work and ministry of Martha is held in lower esteem. No shock there, considering the work and ministry that Martha was doing is traditionally considered “women’s work.”

By contrast, Mary, who sits at the feet of Jesus, takes the stance of what was traditionally the place of men who were disciples of a rabbi. She is pushing those boundaries, as did other women of her day, but it still wouldn’t have been commonplace to see women learning and being discipled by a great teacher. So when translated and put into our scriptures, I’m not surprised that Jesus responds with, “Mary has chosen the better part.”

I mean, in some way, of course it’s the better part. Given the option to sit around and talk versus cooking, working, and sweating in the kitchen, I agree; it’s the better part!

And quite frankly, it’s probably the only part that Jesus really knows. He was born in his time as a man, and I’m not sure he would’ve even known his way around a kitchen all that much. Would he have known what was needed to make food and offer tea to guests? Does he even realize what all is included in Martha’s work?

Probably not. This was over two thousand years ago in a very patriarchal society. And my dad, who is only eighty, and also grew up in a patriarchal society says when he was younger, his mother and sisters would shoo him out of the kitchen telling him it wasn’t his place to be in there. [He still uses that as an excuse for not knowing how to bus or wash his dishes. Don’t be like that, please.]

But I digress. So, the chances that Jesus knew what Martha was actually doing and worrying about is probably low. One commentator has said that in Luke, Jesus is either going to eat, eating, or coming from a meal. But apart from this passage precious little is said about how food actually gets to the table.

Jesus, however, does know that he is always received warmly in Martha’s home. He also knows that Martha will feed him, nourish him, and give him sustenance. So maybe, instead of saying Mary has chosen the “better part,” he is saying she has chosen “a good part.”

Lauren Wright Pittman, the artist for this morning’s bulletin cover writes this:

“When you look at the Greek, …, it can also be translated as, ‘a good portion’ or ‘a useful share.’ In light of this, I believe Jesus is not offering a value judgment between them, but assuaging Martha’s worry by affirming that Mary is doing a good portion of the work, too.”

Perhaps Jesus isn’t rebuking Martha, but affirming Mary, who otherwise may have been rebuked by others. And as one who fed the five thousand, Jesus does know a little bit about the challenges and importance of feeding, even if he may not know his way around a kitchen.

And he knows that feeding people is a ministry. The word Jesus uses for Martha’s work, in fact, is diakonian, meaning work, service, and ministry. It is the Greek word from which the English word “deacons” comes from. So it’s particularly fitting that this is the story we have before us on Deacon Sunday here at Calvary.

Our deacons provide vital and necessary ministries. According to our PC(USA) Book of Order, “the ministry of deacon as set forth in Scripture is one of compassion … and service . . .”

Our deacons prepare our communion elements, serve home communion to homebound members of our community; they lead Pack-a-Sack, and offer prayers for those on our prayer list. They are the hands and feet of Christ. And did you know, that in the Presbyterian church, deacons share the same ordination as pastors? The ordination to become an elder, deacon, and minister are all equal; it is the work and ministry to which we are ordained that’s different.

So thank you to all our current deacons, and to all who have served as deacons in the past. And thank you to our fellowship volunteers who make coffee hour possible and meals like last week’s Lenten Study lunch possible. (Alison and I joke that Jane Manning runs the charcuterie ministry here at Calvary.) And to all who have ever set a table, cooked in our kitchen, thrown away trash, or made a sandwich at pack-a-sack: thank you. You continue the legacy and traditions of Martha, whose work and ministry were so pivotal to Jesus’ time here on earth.

And although deacons are ordained to the work of service and compassion, that work is for us all, not just the deacons. Just as the work of discipleship and life-long learning is for us all, not just the scholars. Faith and works; learning and doing; contemplation and action, they are for us all.

That being said, Elisabeth Johnson, a pastor in Minnesota purports that:

The problem with Martha is not that she is busy serving and providing hospitality. [We can see that] Certainly Jesus commends this kind of service to the neighbor many times, notably in the parable of the Good Samaritan that immediately precedes the story of Mary and Martha. The problem with Martha is not her serving, but rather that she is worried and distracted.

The word translated “distracted” in verse 40, periespato, has the connotation of being pulled or dragged in different directions…

Anyone familiar with that feeling?

Lauren Dykstra shares her Greek knowledge with us saying:

in only two verses (40 and 41) there are four different words for worry. First of all, Martha is described as distracted by her work, using a Greek word that at its root means to be pulled in all directions. So she asks Jesus, and none too gently, “don’t you care,” “aren’t you concerned” (a related word used 7 verses before for what the Samaritan does for a robbed and injured man).

Jesus responds using two synonyms, translated in the NRSV as “Martha –you are worried and distracted” – the first word is worried or anxious as it appears in the passage about the lilies of the field— “which one of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?”

The second word appears only here in the New Testament, but refers to chaos and the noise crowds.

So the anxiety level is high in this story, particularly for Martha.

For Johnson, Jesus’ words to Martha may be seen as an invitation rather than a rebuke.

Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. The one thing needed is for Martha to receive the gracious presence of Jesus, to listen to his words, to know that she is valued not for what she does or how well she does it, but for who she is as a child of God.

When we are busy, we can often get worried and distracted. We lose sight of what ultimately matters.

When we are flooded with sweeping injustice and a constant deluge of information, we can get overwhelmed with all that seems to need our attention. Part of the strategy for those in power today is precisely that - to “flood the zone,” to leave us reeling and unable to figure out how and where to focus.

Today’s story reminds us that even in the midst of all that is happening, and all that we have to do, or perhaps especially because of all that is happening and all that we have to do, we must root ourselves in the life and ministry of Jesus Christ. We must sit at the feet of Jesus and be willing to learn from his words and from his life, death, and resurrection.

Now is not the time to pull back on Christian discipleship, but rather to lean in, closer to Jesus, and to allow ourselves to be centered and transformed by his presence.

And, by the way, it’s not too late to join a Lenten Small Group; just let us know.

Now, I know many of you personally, and I know that much of your busyness stems from the noblest of intentions. I am so grateful for all the ways this congregation and each of you care for your loved ones, care for your communities, and care for the most vulnerable in our society. Where would the church be; where would our society be without our Marthas and our deacons and the people who get stuff done?!

You are the community of the faithful who perform the holy tasks of hospitality and service, making the church and the world a more welcoming and loving place.

But let us never forget from whence we get our hope and our why for doing such work. Let us always be centered in the liberating good new of Jesus, so that we don’t become anxious and troubled and distracted, so that we do not do the important work before us devoid of love and joy.

Friends, our well-being is important enough to prioritize. Our spiritual life is important enough to prioritize. Our mental and physical and emotional health is important enough to prioritize.

Because it’s not whether you are a “Mary or a Martha.” It’s that we need both. And perhaps together, we do not have to serve alone and we do not have to learn alone, but together, we are built up and strengthened to dismantle and resist all forms of oppression.

Resist the “either/or”s the false dichotomies of the world. Instead, embrace the “both/and”s, because that is where Jesus is found. Both in the learning and in the doing. Both in the faith and in the works. Both in the fully human and in the fully divine. Both in us and in others.

Thanks be to God, Amen.

2024 Annual Report

Tue, 11 Mar 2025 21:01:24 GMT

The 2024 Annual Report

Sermon 03.09.2025: Lent 1: Half Alive

Sun, 09 Mar 2025 21:23:43 GMT

In today's scripture reading, someone asks Jesus who, exactly, qualifies as a neighbor. Jesus tells the story of a person found half dead on the side of the road, but seen by at least one passerby as half alive, a neighbor worthy of care. Join us as we consider the question for today's world.

Scripture

Luke 10:25-37

The Parable of the Good Samaritan

Just then a lawyer stood up to test Jesus. ‘Teacher,’ he said, ‘what must I do to inherit eternal life?’ He said to him, ‘What is written in the law? What do you read there?’ He answered, ‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbour as yourself.’ And he said to him, ‘You have given the right answer; do this, and you will live.’

But wanting to justify himself, he asked Jesus, ‘And who is my neighbour?’ Jesus replied, ‘A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell into the hands of robbers, who stripped him, beat him, and went away, leaving him half dead. Now by chance a priest was going down that road; and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side.So likewise a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan while travelling came near him; and when he saw him, he was moved with pity. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, having poured oil and wine on them. Then he put him on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him. The next day he took out two denarii, gave them to the innkeeper, and said, “Take care of him; and when I come back, I will repay you whatever more you spend.” Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbour to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?’ He said, ‘The one who showed him mercy.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Go and do likewise.’

Sermon

A teacher of the law asks Jesus a question we know he already knows the answer to. Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?

Jesus lets him show off and the man cites not just one book of the Bible but two books. Gold star!

Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your strength, and with all your mind, which is from Deuteronomy 6:5.

And Love your neighbor as yourself , which is Leviticus 19:18.

He could have called it good and stopped there, but we’re told he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, “and who is my neighbor.”

I want to justify myself all the time too, so I get it. My neighbor is the person I get along with, right? The one who agrees with my politics and theology and who wants to build a caring and compassionate world, right?

But the people dismantling the government like Godzilla demolishing Tokyo, they aren’t my neighbor, right? I don’t have to love them as I love myself.

Or the people looking up to nazis and siding with authoritarian strong men while alienating our allies—I don’t have to see them as my neighbor, right? I don’t have to love them as I love myself.

The people for whom you would like to justify your lack of neighborly concern may be different than the people on my list. And that’s the point.

We all have a list.

We all want to justify ourselves before Jesus.

Who is our neighbor?

For the writers of Leviticus, quoted by the lawyer trying to test Jesus, your neighbor was the Israelite man who lived next to you and who submitted himself to the Law and the Holiness Codes. You can read through the whole book of Leviticus for a better sense of those codes, although I don’t recommend it. It isn’t light reading.

There were expectations of hospitality and welcome for the stranger, but strangers were not neighbors in Leviticus. And Samaritans were certainly not considered neighbors.

The fight between the Judeans and the Samaritans was a family fight. Samaritans were people descended from the same religious tradition as Israel, family members who went different ways, and whose religious practices were not recognizable to each other as faithful. They were not neighbors. They were estranged family, with the animus that comes with it.

Close your eyes and think of the person you dislike the most, that visceral revulsion that makes you not want to be within 100 miles of that person—t he person about whom you’d like to justify yourself to Jesus so you don’t have to care for them —that’s who you should picture in this parable when they mention the Samaritan.

And it would be bad enough to be told that person was lying on the side of the road half dead and you were expected to help them, to be their neighbor.

Now imagine, the half dead person on the side of the road is you, and that person you cannot abide is the one who stops to take care of you.

Jesus expands our definition of neighbor, both in the Parable, and also through his daily living. He eats with sinners, outcasts, and women. He touches lepers and the unclean. Jesus showed us that his Holiness was what was contagious, not our uncleanness.

Jesus calls his followers to see the world in a more expansive way than the writers of Leviticus were able to see it.

And the Levitical writers weren’t bad people. They didn’t set out to create a bunch of rules that make no sense to us, just to punish or exclude people. They were a small tribe of people, trying to maintain identity in a time of exile and dislocation.

When you fear the future and safety of your people in a diverse world, filled with anxiety, we can have compassion for why they wanted to so narrowly define their community.

We see it today, with politicians wanting to deport immigrants and wanting us to fear diversity, equity, and inclusion policies as if unqualified people are coming for our jobs, our security, our way of life.

Some see these policies as racist, maybe even evil, and no matter how you label them, they are dangerous. But underneath what we might label as racism and hatred is fear . These are not the policies of confident and secure people. These are the policies that grow out of our fear.

Fear that there isn’t enough.

Fear that manufacturing jobs are gone and won’t come back.

Fear that our best days are behind us.

Fear that the world doesn’t look to us as a leader.

Fear of people we don’t understand.

Fear of a culture that has changed to welcome people we don’t understand.

Fear because things seem half dead and we aren’t sure if we have what it takes to care for what is half alive.

So, Jesus tells a story for all of us who are afraid. And we’re all afraid of something, whether it is people we’re told to fear or the people who tell us to fear.

Who is my neighbor?

Jesus interprets Leviticus to say that Everyone is our neighbor.

“Who is my neighbor?” is the question the lawyer asks when he quotes Leviticus. But the parable Jesus offers, and this passage quoted from Leviticus, might actually better answer the question “how do I act as a good neighbor?”

And even though I doubt it was the intention of the Levitical writers, Leviticus supports well what Jesus did and how he showed us to live.

Leviticus instructs us to:

Provide for the hungry.

Deal fairly with both the rich and the poor.

Pay a fair wage at the end of each day.

Be honest.

Do not cheat the deaf or the blind.

Seek justice over vengeance.

Do not lie or steal.

At the end of chapter 19, the Levitical writers address how to be neighbors, even to foreigners: “When a foreigner resides in your land, you shall not oppress the foreigner. The foreigner who resides among you shall be to you as the citizen among you; you shall love the foreigner as yourself, for you were foreigners in the land of Egypt.”

Turns out, scripture is pretty clear about how to treat people and be good neighbors. It isn’t a huge shock. Deep down, under our fear, we know how to be good neighbors.

The huge shock these days is how many Christians would not recognize these instructions from Leviticus and from Jesus, claiming they are some kind of left-wing conspiracy. Elon Musk recently said, “The fundamental weakness of Western civilization is empathy.”

I thought maybe he was alone in making some whackadoodle sort of comment that having compassion for other people was a weakness. And then this week I learned there is a whole movement in evangelical Christianity against empathy. There are bestselling books out with titles like “Toxic Empathy: How Progressives Exploit Christian Compassion.” And “The Sin of Empathy: Compassion and Its Counterfeits.” [3]

Before long, this parable will be banned by corners of the church. It’s a remarkable shift we are observing. We cannot normalize the attempt to erase empathy and compassion from the tenets of Christianity. They are deeply embedded in who we are and in how we are called to live in this world. Don’t let them take it away from us.

Hannah Arendt, who chronicled the Nazi war crimes trials said this: “The death of human empathy is one of the earliest and most tellings signs of a culture about to fall into barbarism.”

Empathy and compassion are deeply embedded in who we are and in how we are called to live in this world. Don’t let anyone tell you it is a weakness or unchristian to care for people.

And even when we believe what the Bible actually says about caring for our neighbors, some days it is harder to live out than others.

Because we are all trying to justify ourselves one way or another.

And this is where I am thankful for grace, the free and un-earned mercy of God that loves and accepts us where we are, but refuses to leave us where it finds us.

The priest and the Levite, walking down the road, are not bad people. They may have been afraid, being on the dangerous Jericho Road, which was just as risky for them as it was for the man, half dead on the side of the road. Maybe they were in a hurry and trying to get off it before dark. They may have been late for a meeting, or on their way to worship.

We are all the priest and Levite some days, seeing people in need of our help, but distracted by many things, or letting our own fears control our actions.

The day before he was murdered, Martin Luther King, Jr preached on this story. And he said "I imagine that the first question the priest and Levite asked was: 'If I stop to help this man, what will happen to me? ' But by the very nature of his concern, the good Samaritan reversed the question: 'If I do not stop to help this man, what will happen to him?”

We are all on a Jericho Road these days, friends. There are many dangers, toils, and snares, and the road will get even more dangerous for some people, as empathy is banned, as the legal system is weaponized, and protections are eroded and ignored.

And it makes sense that we ask, “If I stop to help this person being harassed on Muni by ICE agents, what will happen to me?”

It makes sense that we ask, “If I speak out against this policy or that injustice, will I end up a target?”

But if we do not stop and help those people, what will happen to them?

What will happen to us if we continue to leave people half dead on the side of life’s roads?

When we see people on the side of a dangerous road and see the half dead part, as Luke described the man, and if we decide that death has already won, we keep on walking.

We might even blame them for being on the road in the first place. ‘Everyone knows the Jericho Road is dangerous business. If you don’t want to be half dead, you should walk on different roads.’

Of course, we say that as if we aren’t all on that same road.

I want us to build a society where we make the Jericho Roads safe for everyone to travel. Yes, it matters that we help the individual people we meet who need assistance. But what if we put up streetlights and increased the patrols on that road?

If empathy is a sin, I want to be guilty of it every single day.

The Samaritan, who would not have been seen as a neighbor by the lawyer or the crowd, managed to see the half of the man that wasn’t dead. The half living part.

As people who serve a resurrected God, one who conquered more than being “half dead”, we should be aware of our tendency to let “half dead” be an excuse to walk on past someone on the side of the road.

We have to be the people who look at the body on the side of the road and see them as half alive. The Samaritan—who worshiped wrong, believed wrong—he managed to live out our faith better than the people who knew the right answers. He saw the man as half alive, and that was enough.

It’s the “glass half full” equivalent for our faith. We are the people called to see the half alive part of everyone we meet, trusting that if resurrection is true for us, that it is also possible for people, half dead on the side of the road. And being a neighbor means we do what we can to help that process.

The Samaritan saw the half alive part of the man, and that was enough for inconvenient compassion to kick in.

I noticed the lawyer, when answering Jesus’ question about which person acted the neighbor, can’t quite bring himself to say the word “Samaritan.” He says, “The one who showed mercy.” It’s not the wrong answer, but it whitewashes things a bit, doesn’t it?

Showing mercy makes it sound like the Samaritan just waved his arm and showed someone mercy at a distance, over there. “Look—theres mercy over yonder! I just showed it to you.”

But acting the neighbor came with a cost. It took time, and his money, that he gave to the innkeeper. It was up close, personal, and an invasion of space. And he likely got blood on his robe, which would have made him unclean. He didn’t just show mercy. He did mercy. Dirty, messy, inconvenient mercy.

In our translation, Jesus says the Samaritan was “moved with pity.” In the Greek, that word in Luke is used as a descriptor of God. The Samaritan is the one who acted as God would act, offering costly compassion and aid to a person half dead on a dangerous road.

Who is our neighbor?

The truth of the matter is everyone in the story should be seen as neighbors. Yes, we are to offer care for the people we find, half alive on the side of the road. And we are to attend to the fact that the Jericho Road is dangerous for everyone and do what we can to change the systems that put everyone in danger, because the priest and the Levite are our neighbors too.

Even that precious lawyer, wanting to test Jesus, is our neighbor, because we know that even the people who have all the answers and want to make sure we know it are God’s beloved children—Jesus loves them too. They are at least half alive.

And sometimes we’re the one in need of the neighbor, in need of the care, the mercy, in need of the person willing to invade our space to save our lives. I confess, I’d much rather be the neighbor than be the person in need.

I also confess that it is in those moments when I’m in need—where I’m not sure whether I’m half dead or half alive—in those moments when someone picks me up, cleans my wounds, puts me on their donkey, and takes me to the ER—that’s when I understand God’s love and the new life of resurrection in new ways.

Because when the world walks on by and determines that you’re half dead, it’s hard to remember the other half, still alive, seeking hope and a second chance.

Friends, wherever you are on the Jericho Road right now, I pray we can be “the glass is half alive” kinds of people, sharing and receiving that promise of hope and resurrection as we need it, journeying toward liberation together.

[3] https://www.nytimes.com/2025/02/13/opinion/trump-usaid-evangelicals.html

Sermon 03.02.2025: A Woke Church

Sun, 02 Mar 2025 15:43:33 GMT

Stay woke! Or we might miss the glory of God (at least according to Luke's gospel). The Gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke all record the story of Jesus's transfiguration on the mountaintop. But only Luke records that the disciples witnessed this amazing transformation because they had stayed awake. In a time when we are tired and overwhelmed with exhausting news, how can we stay awake to witness what God is doing in the world and in our lives?

Scripture

Luke 9:28-45

Now about eight days after these sayings Jesus took with him Peter and John and James, and went up on the mountain to pray. And while he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly they saw two men, Moses and Elijah, talking to him. They appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem. Now Peter and his companions were weighed down with sleep; but since they had stayed awake, they saw his glory and the two men who stood with him. Just as they were leaving him, Peter said to Jesus, “Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah” —not knowing what he said. While he was saying this, a cloud came and overshadowed them; and they were terrified as they entered the cloud. Then from the cloud came a voice that said, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!” When the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone. And they kept silent and in those days told no one any of the things they had seen.

On the next day, when they had come down from the mountain, a great crowd met him. Just then a man from the crowd shouted, “Teacher, I beg you to look at my son; he is my only child. Suddenly a spirit seizes him, and all at once he shrieks. It convulses him until he foams at the mouth; it mauls him and will scarcely leave him. I begged your disciples to cast it out, but they could not.” Jesus answered, “You faithless and perverse generation, how much longer must I be with you and bear with you? Bring your son here.” While he was coming, the demon dashed him to the ground in convulsions. But Jesus rebuked the unclean spirit, healed the boy, and gave him back to his father.

And all were astounded at the greatness of God. While everyone was amazed at all that he was doing, he said to his disciples, “Let these words sink into your ears: The Son of Man is going to be betrayed into human hands.” But they did not understand this saying; its meaning was concealed from them, so that they could not perceive it. And they were afraid to ask him about this saying.

Sermon

Last week, as she received her Screen Actors Guild, Life Achievement Award, Jane Fonda said this: “Make no mistake, empathy is not weak or woke. And by the way, woke just means you give a darn about other people.” (And no, she did not say “darn.”)

Now, the term “woke” is not new. It has been around since at least the 1930s, and our black siblings have been using it to refer to social and political awareness for decades. It is, of course, a form of the word “awake,” meaning to be conscious, alert, and not asleep.

And being awake is sometimes a sign of love. For example, when I was a teenager with a new driver’s license, my dad “stayed woke” until I came home.

I sometimes had marching band competitions or church events that kept me out at night. And sometimes, after those events, I’d go with friends to the nearest taqueria or diner and lose track of time. I didn’t have a curfew, per se, but my parents usually went to bed at 10 o’clock. So if I was gonna be home later than that, I needed to let them know.

I distinctly remember one night, forgetting to call home. I was having a grand old time with my friends, and finally made it back home. As soon as I walked through our front door, my heart dropped.

There was my dad, sitting on the couch, awake. I braced for anger and frustration or yelling and punishment because I knew I had done something wrong. I was late. I had made him worry. And I had forgotten to call.

But my very tired dad looked at me and simply said, “Oh, so you are okay. I was scared.” Then he turned around and went to his room to sleep. That was it.

That response left a much deeper impression on my teenage self than any yelling or punishment probably would have. Because that response showed me a parent who worried about me and cared about me and wanted me to be safe. A parent who chose to stay awake, not to yell at me but because he loved me.

Friends, being awake is sometimes a sign of love.

I’m reminded of another time Jesus was with a few of his disciples. This is after today’s story of transfiguration when he’s in the Garden of Gethsemane praying. He asks his disciples to stake awake and pray with him. But they can’t. They don’t.

And Jesus is disheartened by their inability to stay awake and says to them, “Why are you sleeping? Get up and pray that you may not come into the time of trial.” (Luke 22:46) And maybe it’s just me, but I sense a sadness, a frustration, a kind of heartbreak with Jesus’s question. Because sometimes, staying awake is a sign of love.

Now, anyone who knows anything about me knows that one of my favorite things to do is the very opposite of staying awake. I love sleeping in. I love naps. I love being in bed.

I know it’s not for everyone; some of you need and want to be productive and upright and doing things in the world. That’s fine. But I love sleep. And I love the Nap Bishop, Tricia Hersey who asserts that “rest is resistance” as she examines the liberating power of naps.

I agree with her whole-heartedly and affirm that we need to rest. But just as there is a time to rest, there is also a time to stay woke.

And church, now is a time to stay woke.

Now: as we are slashing budgets to life-saving aid and help around the globe; now: as the most powerful men in the world are revising history right before our eyes; now: as there are attempts to erase the transgender community; now: as hate and misinformation are flooding our news waves and social media.

Now is a time to stay woke.

And not so that we’re exhausted and running ragged, not so that we’re overwhelmed by the news each morning, not so that we’re running on fumes. But so that, in staying awake, like the disciples who were with Jesus on that mountaintop, we might experience transfiguration.

Today’s scripture reading says: “Now Peter and his companions were weighed down with sleep; but since they had stayed awake, they saw his glory.” (vs. 32) It is because they were able to stay awake that they witness Jesus in his truest form.

And friends, even in the midst of all that is rage-inducing and mind-boggling today, God is at work, revealing God’s glory and love to us, claiming us as God’s beloved children. Staying awake is one way to witness God’s love. And we cannot afford to miss God’s love in these troubling days.

Recently, we learned that someone gave Calvary an online rating of 1 out of 5 stars. In their comments, explaining why they gave such a low review, this person wrote, in all caps, “THIS CHURCH IS WOKE.”

Well, to that I say, yes. Thank you. This church is woke. We have woken up to witness injustice, hate, and cruelty, and we have also woken up to believe that even this can be transformed by God. So if by “woke” you mean paying attention, caring, loving, watching, witnessing, and being willing to speak out, then, yes, we are woke.

And we will stay woke because being awake is sometimes a sign of love.

Now, I don’t know if this is scientifically proven, but when I was in youth group, I was told at my very first church lock-in that the best way to stay up all night was to keep eating. If I snacked all through the night, I would be able to stay awake! And me, never needing an additional excuse to eat, I tried it. And lo and behold it worked! My first all-nighter, brought to you by Doritos and coke.

And the fact of the matter is, food gives us energy. And sometimes just the simple action of munching on something can help us stay awake. So to be a woke church, we have to be a fed church.

And this food, which we will partake in today, this bread and this cup, offered to us at the table of grace, gives us the ability to stay woke in a world that would rather have us asleep and not paying attention.

This table gives us energy and sustenance to keep going.

This table reminds us who is missing from the table and who Jesus would invite, but we have failed or forgotten to let in.

This table reminds us that sometimes even those whom we consider enemies are invited to sit at this table. This table reminds us that sometimes those who are welcome at this table have instead chosen to sit at tables they should be helping over turn.

This table feeds us and insists that everyone must be fed.

This table is like a mountain top experience where we witness Jesus for who he truly is: our host, the bread of life, the light of the world. And just like in today’s transfiguration story, once we have feasted at this table, we must go from this place to the people.

And what does Jesus do as soon as he leaves the mountain top? He heals.

Transformation and healing are possible because of transfiguration. Healing and wholeness are possible when our true selves are revealed.

That’s why gender affirming care is such a gift. That’s why those who are brave enough to come out and fully be themselves are so embraced and welcomed by God.

We are fearfully and wonderfully made. And God knows us and loves us just as we are. And celebrates us when who we are can be revealed to the world. It is in those most honest moments of our lives when we are living most into who God has called us to be.

This is essentially the good news of Jesus Christ. And we may be tempted to keep that joy and good news all to ourselves because it feels nice and warm and safe up on this mountaintop, but that is not what God asks of us.

As the hands and feet of Jesus, having been fed at this mountaintop means we must go down into the world to heal, to help others embrace themselves and embrace one another, to embrace the vast and beautiful diversity which God created and intended.

In a broken and fearful world, we will stay awake and witness the glory and love of God, so that we might share that glory and love with all.

So be a woke church; be a woke people, and encourage all people to wake up to the love of God that embraces us all. And, remember, if we wanna stay awake, we gotta eat. But when Jesus brings the snacks, there is always enough for us all.

Amen.

Cover Image: The Transfiguration by Augustin Kolawole Olayinka

Sermon 02.23.2025: The Greater Debt

Sun, 23 Feb 2025 19:13:28 GMT

In today's story, a woman washes Jesus' feet with her tears, drying them with her hair. It's an intimate scene. An emotional scene. A costly scene. And it makes the rest of the guests uncomfortable.

We don't know her story, but we see her response to Jesus. How do we respond to grace, forgiveness, and second chances? Do we welcome second chances for others or just for ourselves?

Scripture

Luke 7:36-50

One of the Pharisees asked Jesus to eat with him, and he went into the Pharisee’s house and took his place at the table. And a woman in the city, who was a sinner, having learned that he was eating in the Pharisee’s house, brought an alabaster jar of ointment. She stood behind him at his feet, weeping, and began to bathe his feet with her tears and to dry them with her hair. Then she continued kissing his feet and anointing them with the ointment. Now when the Pharisee who had invited him saw it, he said to himself, ‘If this man were a prophet, he would have known who and what kind of woman this is who is touching him—that she is a sinner.’

Jesus spoke up and said to him, ‘Simon, I have something to say to you.’ ‘Teacher,’ he replied, ‘speak.’ ‘A certain creditor had two debtors; one owed five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. When they could not pay, he cancelled the debts for both of them. Now which of them will love him more?’ Simon answered, ‘I suppose the one for whom he cancelled the greater debt.’ And Jesus said to him, ‘You have judged rightly.’ Then turning towards the woman, he said to Simon, ‘Do you see this woman? I entered your house; you gave me no water for my feet, but she has bathed my feet with her tears and dried them with her hair. You gave me no kiss, but from the time I came in she has not stopped kissing my feet. You did not anoint my head with oil, but she has anointed my feet with ointment. Therefore, I tell you, her sins, which were many, have been forgiven; hence she has shown great love. But the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little.’ Then he said to her, ‘Your sins are forgiven.’ But those who were at the table with him began to say among themselves, ‘Who is this who even forgives sins?’ And he said to the woman, ‘Your faith has saved you; go in peace.’

Sermon

All four Gospels tell a version of this story. In the other gospels, it happens right before Jesus’ arrest, which leads to his trial and death. In those tellings, they see symbolism in her action, where she’s anointing his body while he’s still alive, giving him the love she has while he still lives, reminding us that soon they’ll be anointing his body after death.

In Luke, it is placed right in the middle of his ministry and is not a foreshadowing of his death. It is about the woman, and about who Jesus is. We don’t know her name. But we’re told she’s a sinner. We don’t know what she’s done to have her labeled a sinner, either.

To be called a sinner in scripture could happen for a number of reasons. If you didn’t keep the commandments and the laws of God, you’re a sinner. If you’re a Gentile, you’re a sinner. The Pharisees thought anyone who didn’t keep their particular traditions and ceremonies were sinners.

Today, we would say that everyone sins, that we all miss the mark at some point and we all fall short. But that was not how the Pharisee would have understood sin.

An important understanding from the Protestant Reformation is that we need God’s grace and mercy like we need air to breathe. None of us can follow every law, commandment, rule, or tradition perfectly and none of us can earn our way to God’s salvation.

Salvation is God’s gift to us. And so we acknowledge our need for God, our inability to save ourselves. It’s one of the reasons we say a prayer of confession in worship each and every week. We acknowledge we have fallen short of our dreams and hopes for our good behavior and turn to God in gratitude. Confession and the forgiveness of sins is the moment in worship where we set down our judgment of our own lives, and our judgment of other people’s lives.

The term Pharisee is often a bad word in our vocabularies, because of their opposition to Jesus in the gospels, but they weren’t bad guys. They were trying to faithfully follow all of the commandments and laws of the Mosaic tradition. They were a conservative religious movement, in the sense that they were resistant to change and to the influence of Greek and Roman cultures.

Pharisees tried to remain set apart because they also believed that coming into physical contact with uncleanness would make you unclean too. To see Jesus being touched so closely by this woman with the great sins would have freaked them out because uncleanness was contagious.

To be fair, I think it would freak me out too. I picked the art for the bulletin cover today because I wanted us to be sure to picture what it would be like for a person to wash another person’s feet with their tears, to kiss their feet, and to dry them with their hair. You cannot do it from a respectable distance.

It is an up close and intimate act. Some of you may have had your feet washed at a Holy Week worship service, with bowls of water and towels. And that feels up-close and personal. But to have someone’s tears be the water that washes our feet, and their hair be the towel that dries them? No thank you.

What the woman does with her alabaster jar of ointment, her tears, and her hair—she is coming as close to Jesus as possible. It is a public act of great vulnerability and intimacy.

And messy, intimate, public vulnerability was not what the Pharisees were about. Public respectability. Public adherence to the rules.

We can have compassion on the Pharisee, because we know that it would be exhausting to think you had to get everything right all the time, that your relationship to the God you love and worship was at risk, every single minute, from your mistakes. It is a paralyzing way to live.

We’re told the Pharisee ‘said to himself’, not out loud. “If this man were a prophet, he would have known who and what kind of woman this is who is touching him—that she is a sinner.”

I say a lot of stuff to myself and not out loud. You’re welcome for that. Some things I say only to myself because I don’t want to say the wrong thing out loud. And, maybe like the Pharisee, I hope that if people don’t know what I’m thinking, then they won’t be able to judge me for getting it wrong.

Maybe he says it to himself and not out loud because he does not want a dialogue with Jesus, maybe because he thinks he already has what he needs, in himself, to decide if Jesus is a prophet. He knows the law and the prophets. He follows the law and the prophets. This woman does not. She’s a sinner. Simon is not. Perhaps he thinks he can answer his own question with his own knowledge and his own opinions, so he says it to himself. It doesn’t even occur to him that he might be wrong.

The woman and the Pharisee offer such a contrast to each other. He’s trying to do everything perfectly and correctly, having Jesus over for dinner. She’s doing everything with deep love and vulnerability, throwing her whole body into the act of caring for Jesus.

And I recognize I’m much more like Simon than I am like the woman.

Dang it.

I want Jesus to know how much I love him, but can’t I do it by having him over for a dinner party and not by kissing his feet and weeping in public??

Jesus still hears what Simon doesn’t say out loud. Jesus addresses Simon’s unspoken objection directly.

He tells a story about two people with debts. A day’s wages were about one denari. So one person owes two months’ paychecks, one person owes two years’ paychecks. Both debts are forgiven.

Simon knows he’s in a trap even as Jesus asks him which of the former debtors will love the creditor more, but Simon also really wants to be correct and know the right answer. “I suppose the one who had the greater debt”.

Then Jesus uses the woman as an object lesson for Simon, which I confess I don’t love. He talks about her as if she isn’t there, but you know she hears him because she’s currently kissing his feet and drying them with her hair.

“Do you see this woman? I entered your house; you gave me no water for my feet, but she has bathed my feet with her tears and dried them with her hair. You gave me no kiss, but from the time I came in she has not stopped kissing my feet. You did not anoint my head with oil, but she has anointed my feet with ointment. Therefore, I tell you, her sins, which were many, have been forgiven; hence she has shown great love. But the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little.”

Jesus will go on to talk to the woman directly, telling her that her sins are forgiven, and that she should be at peace.

But it’s clear that she has shown great love to Jesus before he tells her that her sins are forgiven, and in what he says to Simon, we understand that she shows great love because she already knows she has been forgiven. We don’t show great love to earn forgiveness. We show great love because we have already received it. Her love to Jesus was also costly. That ointment she poured out on his feet would have cost over a year’s wages to purchase. She gave sacrificially to show her thanks and gratitude.

For Simon the Pharisee, I want him to be able to set down that quest for perfection. He’s so close. He’s not a bad guy, but his insistence that he can do it all his own self is what is keeping him from getting close to Jesus.

What I want for the woman is somehow more complicated. To start with, I want her to be called by her name. I don’t want her to be referred to as the sinful woman because none of us deserve to be labeled by only our mistakes instead of our belovedness.

I want to believe that when she leaves this party, she won’t be an object of whispering gossip. “There’s the sinful woman who poured out and wasted all that expensive ointment and then cried at Jesus’ feet at Simon’s house last week. What a scene! Who does she think she is?”

That is probably exactly what was said about her. As I mentioned earlier, a version of this story is in all four gospels. That suggests to us that stories about this scene were told so often that everyone knew of it happening, including all four gospel writers.

I believe that hearing Jesus acknowledge her gift, and hearing Jesus tell her that her sins were forgiven, mattered more than what other people said about her. That doesn’t make it easy to be the subject of gossip, but if she walked into Simon’s house and everyone immediately thought, “Why is that sinful woman here?”, being the subject of gossip wasn’t a new experience for her.

Being forgiven in public, being called to peace, having your gift of expensive ointment, and the gift of your tears, and the gift of the very hair on your head—having all of that received with gratitude by Jesus—that was the new experience for her. Can you imagine the relief she must have felt when Jesus acknowledged her gift and spoke those words of forgiveness?

I want Jesus to turn the sin economy upside down with much more clarity. This whole thing feels too subtle. Jesus publicly rebukes Simon for his failures of hospitality, for all the ways Simon has not behaved like the woman. Simon hasn’t offered water for Jesus to wash his feet. He didn’t greet Jesus with a kiss. He didn’t offer an anointing or a blessing for Jesus’ head. Simon’s sins are many.

Jesus says, “But the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little”.

It’s amazing to me that for 2,000 years, this story has been told as if this sinful woman sure was lucky that Jesus was nice and accepted her weird, wasteful gifts. Why hasn’t the church instead asked, “Was Simon okay after being publicly rebuked by Jesus for his failures of hospitality and Jesus’ pronouncement that since Simon loves so little that he can’t possibly know the liberating gift of forgiveness?”

We buy into the trope that the woman was the one with 500 denarii of debt and Simon only had 50. But is that the case?

Jesus tells Simon, ‘You have judged rightly’ about the debtors in the parable. But then Jesus goes on to add up more than 50 bucks of debt that Simon has.

Maybe we need to recognize the only difference between Simon and the sinful woman is that only one of them recognizes they have a debt at all.

Our society is quick to judge the sins and debts of other people. But that isn’t how faith works. Our sins aren’t to be compared to others. Judgment is not what God requires of us.

Whether we speak our judgment out loud, or only in our hearts, Jesus hears what we’re saying and loves us enough to call us to attend to our own behavior and actions.

Some of us were here Wednesday night to hear the brilliant Loretta Ross talk about her book Calling In: How to Start Making Change with Those You’d Rather Cancel.

I highly recommend the book. But one of the things that was clear in reading it is that it is easy to cancel someone, to call them out for their mistakes. What is harder is to call them in. To care enough about them that you give them a chance to work for redemption.

It’s easy to want to cancel people. I’ve got a long list in my dark little heart that I’m only saying to myself and not out loud, but if you’ve been watching the news, you probably have a similar list.

And it is easy for me to call them sinful people, especially when they are. There are a lot of harms being done in our country right now that are surely against what God is desiring for us and for the world.

But what this story reminds me is that while we continue to work for the world we want to see, we can’t do it from a place of exclusion and distance. We can’t see people we disapprove of as being beyond the reach of God’s love and forgiveness.

What we can do is be more like the woman, willing to spend her money to buy expensive perfume to pour on Jesus’ feet, willing to offer her tears, her hair, her very self to get close enough to Jesus to say thanks.

I clearly don’t have a handle on how to do that. I’m clearly still wrestling with what this story says to us and our crazy, mixed-up world today.

So maybe the first step is to notice what we’re saying in our own hearts. Does it match what we say out loud? Does it match our actions?

As you read through Luke’s gospel this week, as you watch the news, as you live your life, think about Simon and the woman. Whichever of them you feel closer to, remember that Jesus loves them both. Jesus calls them both to know they are loved, they are forgiven, and they are free. May we know that for ourselves, for each other, and for the world around us too.

Let us be known for loving with all we have, not for loving little.

Sermon 02.16.2025: Prophets Over Profits

Sun, 16 Feb 2025 19:05:41 GMT

What makes for a trustworthy prophet? Let’s learn a spiritually sound way to vet our current-day prophets. We need clarity—and hope—for these troubled times. And, friends, there is hope!

Scripture

Luke 7:18-35

The disciples of John [the Baptist] reported all these things to [Jesus]. So John summoned two of his disciples and sent them to the Lord to ask, ‘Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?’ When the men had come to him, they said, ‘John the Baptist has sent us to you to ask, “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?” ’ Jesus* had just then cured many people of diseases, plagues, and evil spirits, and had given sight to many who were blind. And he answered them, ‘Go and tell John what you have seen and heard: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers* are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, the poor have good news brought to them. And blessed is anyone who takes no offence at me.’

When John’s messengers had gone, Jesus* began to speak to the crowds about John:* ‘What did you go out into the wilderness to look at? A reed shaken by the wind? What then did you go out to see? Someone* dressed in soft robes? Look, those who put on fine clothing and live in luxury are in royal palaces. What then did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet. This is the one about whom it is written,

“See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you,

who will prepare your way before you.”

I tell you, among those born of women no one is greater than John; yet the least in the kingdom of God is greater than he.’ (And all the people who heard this, including the tax-collectors, acknowledged the justice of God,* because they had been baptized with John’s baptism. But by refusing to be baptized by him, the Pharisees and the lawyers rejected God’s purpose for themselves.)

‘To what then will I compare the people of this generation, and what are they like? They are like children sitting in the market-place and calling to one another,

“We played the flute for you, and you did not dance;

we wailed, and you did not weep.”

For John the Baptist has come eating no bread and drinking no wine, and you say, “He has a demon”; the Son of Man has come eating and drinking, and you say, “Look, a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax-collectors and sinners!” Nevertheless, wisdom is vindicated by all her children.’

Sermon

Recently, I asked our Board of Deacons to choose a theme song. [1] So, each of them chose a song to represent their personality, their faith, their tastes. Or lack thereof. You can hear Calvary’s Deacon Playlist on Spotify.

Our theme songs ranged from “Float On” by Modest Mouse to “The Impossible Dream” to “Morning Is Broken” (somebody always chooses a hymn) to “Hold Me Closer Tiny Dancer” and “Dancing Queen”. Because our Guatemalan son has sold Lou and me on the music Karol G, I chose “ Ah, Dios mio, que rico Dios mio! ”

Would you choose a gentle, feel-good song? A power ballad? A sea chanty? A dirge? Some gangster rap? If you had to choose a theme song, what would it be?

Now you’re thinking I’ve finally lost it, but hear me out. Sometimes the best way to address the madness of the world is with a little madness of our own. Every day, professional fear mongers try to suck the air out of our joy. Their purpose is to scare us into submission, to divide us so that we are more suggestible. And, here’s the sad part, it works. Today is about resisting the siren song of false prophets.

Having a theme song at the ready can render us impervious to their chaos and hate—at least temporarily. Retreating into a theme song can give us a moment to breathe, a touchstone of joy, a reminder of hope.

Maya Angelou echoed Dr. King when she wrote, “I can be changed by what happens to me, but I refuse to be reduced by it.” [2]

Given recent events, I had to abandon sweet Karol G and up my game with a new theme song. When I realized that my navigation apps now showed the Gulf of America and a vaccine-denier with a dead brain worm was named Secretary of Health, did I despair? Yes. I did. Momentarily. Until this music played from my memory, in my head: a corrective distraction. (Play “Soul Bossa Nova” by Quincy Jones.)

Pay attention only to what has meaning, but actively ignore everything divisive and ultimately meaningless. Trust your joy to God’s safekeeping, and we will eventually join our voices to drown out the chorus of hate. Our hope is in the God whose name is Love.

Am I optimistic? Nope. Optimism is unrealistic right now, but I am hopeful.

I’m not even all that happy, but I am joyful . We have a joy the world didn’t give us. So the world cannot take it away.

Happiness is skin deep. Joy goes to the bone. [breath]

Locate your hope. Get hold of your joy, and do not let go.

Aesop, Jesus & Oral Traditions

Instead of reading stories in books, people used to tell stories to one another: the oral tradition. The Bible also came to be written after long periods of oral tradition.

Today’s gospel is from Luke. Luke knew Jesus personally. Luke told the stories of Jesus to his students. Then, the disciples of Luke wrote down today’s gospel lesson. [3] And in it Jesus quotes Aesop, an ancient Greek slave and storyteller that lived centuries before Jesus.

I’ve asked Nancy Hall to help me tell you the fable Jesus refers to today. Could you please help, too? You’ll play the part of the fish. As was customary in the oral tradition, I am retelling it in my own words.

The Fisherwoman and Her Flute

There once lived a fisherwoman who loved to play the flute. One sunny morning, as she walked by a stream, she noticed a group of fish looking up at her. She had an idea. Since she was an excellent flutist, she decided to play them a tune. She wanted the fish to dance up out of the water and hop into her net. Now, any person who heard her tune could not stop themselves from dancing, but the fish, being fish, just looked at her and wondered, “What’s up? Waaa?”

She stopped playing and hung her head in disappointment. Her business plan had failed. Poor Nancy! Her sadness turned to frustration and then to desperation. So, she’s took her fishing net, cast it into the water, and pulled up all the fish she could. Her net was now full of flopping fish, soon to be eaten on bagels with cream cheese. “Buahahaha!” she laughed. “Now, you can’t stop dancing, can you! Dance, little fishies!” like a Disney villain.

Like Grimm’s fairy tales, Aesop’s fables can sometimes get a little weird. So can Jesus’ parables.

When I was your age, we did a dance called The Monkey. (Demonstrate.) Don’t confuse it with The Pony or Mashed Potatoes. As you leave for Sunday Studio, Nancy and I are going to play some music in the hopes that you and your parents we invite you to dance your way out of the sanctuary. Because dancing is an important way we praise God.

Ready? (Play “Soul Bossa Nova”by Quincy Jones, and dance!)

Extra-biblical Reading [4]

Rivers mark old boundaries. Rivers “make movement possible.” [5] Rivers don’t always flow smoothly in one direction but bend back on themselves, wind around and fall into gorges. Some rivers have been dammed to flood valleys, but their natural flow cannot be interrupted forever. The river always wins. We’ve all come through lots of things we didn’t think we could. Remembering those moments is the beginning of hope.

Langston Hughes was still a teenager when he wrote the following poem. (No pressure, youth group!) I have invited my neighbor, Iona Lawhorn, to intone his words with her beautiful, musical voice.

“The Negro Speaks of Rivers” (1920) by Langston Hughes [6]

I’ve known rivers:

I’ve known rivers ancient as the world and older than the flow of human blood in human veins.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young.

I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep.

I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it.

I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln went down to New Orleans, and I ’ve seen its muddy bosom turn all golden in the sunset.

I’ve known rivers:

Ancient, dusky rivers.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

Cousin John sends emissaries to ask, “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?” Sorta rude question. Are you for real with all your talk about love and forgiveness, or should we drop you and get another one?

Well, replies Jesus, at least some people who had blinded minds now see. Those who were stuck-in-place now move around freely. I am handing out free healthcare up in here. And what’s more, the poor are my special friends. They will go to the head of the line.

Jesus is more than a prophet. The traditional interpretation of this scripture proclaims the power of Jesus: Christ, Anointed One. No one should follow the Empire, nor me or you, not even John the Baptist. True disciples follow Jesus.

With the empire’s spies in the crowd and the religious authorities taking notes, Jesus says: blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me. Some people expect to be offended, and rarely are they disappointed.

Other translations of this verse read: “Blessed are those who do not stumble because of me.” That’s a nice twist; blessed are those who keep on walking the journey of faith even as I challenge them to grow.

Jesus’ litany of healings and the Good News he brings to the poor echo the song his mother sang while he was still in utero. She’s on the bulletin cover today. We usually dress her up for Christmas. Sitting by the tree, sipping eggnog, we listen to her prophecy set to the music by Bach or John Rutter. It’s elevated and preserved that way, but it loses oomph.

If, like me, you are made uncomfortable by today’s bulletin cover, that means God is trying to tell us something. Those are the prophetic words of Mary.

Let’s be clear about what prophets are. In the Bible, prophets are not fortune tellers. They assess the present and describe what they see happening through the lens of faith .

All prophets are not equal, even in holy scripture. For example, we rarely refer to the prophecies of Nahum, the minor prophet who had huge issues with women and anger management problems that would send Dr. Phil running. I read Nahum when I need to feel better about my lack of patience. Nahum needed a theme song.

Who are our trusted prophets today? I distrust the prophets who have never had to work a day in their lives, the people who are in it for their own profit with an “i.” I do not trust the prophets whose lives contradict the Sermon on the Mount and destroy the programs that reflect time-honored feeding, healing, reconciling ministries of Jesus. I don’t trust prophets who can’t show us the receipts or publish the names of the immigrants they have rounded up. I do not trust billionaires who feel no moral responsibility for the poor.

God entrusted this planet to us as its stewards, not profiteers. The destruction of educational standards, environmental protections and cuts to cancer research cannot be God’s will, and they must not stand. Where is the opposition? Where is the balance?

Jesus is reconciliation, not division but a giant “welcome home” to very scapegoat, every trans young person, and every sanctuary-seeking immigrant and detainee. There is not favored nation in the kingdom of heaven.

The partiality God shows is only to the poor.

Jesuit theologian James Martin writes:

In its simplest terms, the apparent demise of USAID is the result of the world’s riches man ending a program that helps millions of poor people. You don’t need a PhD in moral theology to see why this is an evil. You can just read Jesus parables on the rich and the poor. [7]

Before the cyber truck arrives to cart me away, let me ask you: to whose tune should we dance? What will be our theme? The journey of faith deserves a soundtrack, but will we recognize the tune?

Karl Barth was a prophetic 20th century theologian who organized Christians to resist the advance of Hitler and the Nazis. He urged them—and us—to follow Jesus balancing the news in one hand and Good News in the other. Current world events require the corrective tension of the witness, example and sacrifice of Jesus Christ.

We need prophets today who bridge the gaps through which too many fall. And if God will not raise up for us prophets, I pray that God will raise up in us a holy restlessness to get God’s work done, to save people for Jesus’ sake.

Recounting modern history, writer Ken Sehested sets today’s Affirmation of Faith squarely on the side of hope.

Did you know that:

When [the] Chilean military dictator Augustine Pinochet came to power in 1973 (in a coup orchestrated by the [the Nixon administration]). Pinochet forbade [the] use of Mary’s Magnificat as a public prayer because of its [prophecy. God pulls down the mighty from their thrones].

During the 1980s, dictatorial rulers in both El Salvador and Guatemala judged Mary’s [prophecy] of God’s special concern for the poor to be so dangerous they banned any public recitation of this text.

Argentina’s ruling junta banned Mary’s song after the Mothers of the Disappeared displayed its words on placards in the capital plaza.

During Britain’s rule of the Indian subcontinent, the singing of the Magnificat in church was prohibited because of its incendiary lyrics. So, on the final day of British rule in India, Gandhi, who was not a Christian, requested that this text be read in all places where the British flag was being lowered. [8]

Let mother Mary assure us that God has our backs. This current cacophony is ultimately meaningless—a flute song calling us to go against God. Don’t dance to that devil music! But. But! But when we hear the pipe of a true and moral prophet, it’s Monkey, Pony and Mashed Potatoes all the way.

My soul proclaims your greatness, O God,

and my spirit rejoices in you, my savior.

For you have looked with favor

upon your lowly servant,

and from this day forward

all generations will call me blessed.

For you, the Almighty, have done great things for me,

and holy is your name.

Your mercy reaches from age to age

for those who fear you.

You have shown strength with your arm;

you have scattered the proud in their conceit;

you have deposed the mighty from their thrones

and raised the lowly to high places.

You have filled the hungry with good things,

while you have sent the rich away empty.

You have come to the aid of Israel your servant,

mindful of your mercy—

the promise you made to our ancestors—

to Sarah and Abraham

and their descendants forever.

Cover Photo: “Magnificat” (Luke 1:52-53) by Benjamin Wildflower, benwildflower.com

1 This “spiritual practice” is inspired by an old TV show, Ally McBeal < https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3DJbYw19d90>.

2 < https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/7980-i-can-be-changed-by-what-happens-to-me-but>

3 Around the year 80 CE.

4 In honor of Black History Month.

5 < https://lareviewofbooks.org/article/the-poems-we-think-we-know-the-negro-speaks-of-rivers-by-langston-hughes/>

6 Recited in worship by Ms. Iona Lawhorn.

7 < https://x.com/JamesMartinSJ/status/1886430404241977807?mx=2>

8 Ken Sehested, “When a president demands an apology from a pastor who counseled mercy” Prayer & Politiks, accessed online at < https://mailchi.mp/prayerandpolitiks/when-a-president-demands-apology-from-a-pastor-who-counseled-mercy?e=4177a8ba38> January 25, 2025.

Sermon 02.09.2025: Who is Worthy of Healing?

Sun, 09 Feb 2025 02:10:30 GMT

In today's story, Jesus interacts with people outside of his own community, and offers healing to people some would say were unworthy. How do we build community and healing across the lines that divide us?

Scripture

Luke 7:1-17

After Jesus had finished all his sayings in the hearing of the people, he entered Capernaum. A centurion there had a slave whom he valued highly, and who was ill and close to death. When he heard about Jesus, he sent some Jewish elders to him, asking him to come and heal his slave. When they came to Jesus, they appealed to him earnestly, saying, ‘He is worthy of having you do this for him, for he loves our people, and it is he who built our synagogue for us.’ And Jesus went with them, but when he was not far from the house, the centurion sent friends to say to him, ‘Lord, do not trouble yourself, for I am not worthy to have you come under my roof; therefore I did not presume to come to you. But only speak the word, and let my servant be healed. For I also am a man set under authority, with soldiers under me; and I say to one, “Go”, and he goes, and to another, “Come”, and he comes, and to my slave, “Do this”, and the slave does it.’ When Jesus heard this he was amazed at him, and turning to the crowd that followed him, he said, ‘I tell you, not even in Israel have I found such faith.’ When those who had been sent returned to the house, they found the slave in good health.

Soon afterwards he went to a town called Nain, and his disciples and a large crowd went with him. As he approached the gate of the town, a man who had died was being carried out. He was his mother’s only son, and she was a widow; and with her was a large crowd from the town. When the Lord saw her, he had compassion for her and said to her, ‘Do not weep.’ Then he came forward and touched the bier, and the bearers stood still. And he said, ‘Young man, I say to you, rise!’ The dead man sat up and began to speak, and Jesus gave him to his mother. Fear seized all of them; and they glorified God, saying, ‘A great prophet has risen among us!’ and ‘God has looked favourably on his people!’ This word about him spread throughout Judea and all the surrounding country.

Sermon

I confess this text makes me twitchy and I don't like it. Luckily, we aren’t here to worship me this morning. But this wasn’t an easy passage for me to work with this week.

Let’s start with the slave-owning centurion. We can understand, all day long , that slavery in first century world was categorically different than the way we perpetuated it here for 400 years. Biblical slavery is still terrible and I’m not going to admire it, or anyone who benefitted from it, but I can try to remember that Luke was speaking to a different cultural context than we are in.

And yes, it is good that the centurion “valued highly” his slave, but this was likely because when you buy a human to do your work, you want them to be healthy enough to continue to work for you.

And then you have the religious leaders.

‘He is worthy of having you do this for him, for he loves our people, and it is he who built our synagogue for us.

Let’s break that down.

He is worthy …for religious leaders in Jesus’ day, what would make someone worthy is their adherence to the statutes and traditions of the faith, not because they paid for the sanctuary renovation in the capital campaign. Yes, in the next few years, we’ll be undertaking a capital campaign here, most likely. And while I pray it will be a successful campaign, the amount of money contributed will not be what makes you worthy of receiving God’s healing.

Were the religious leaders afraid the centurion would stop pledging to First Capernaum if they didn’t get him special access to Jesus?

I am all fired up about this passage. Partly because I’m sick and tired of seeing religious leaders in this country try to curry favor with people in power and people with money.

And partly because I worry I’m guilty of the same.

As the religious leaders point out how worthy the centurion is of healing, they say:

He loves our people .

What does that love look like?

What are the limits of how you love people when you:

—will snitch on those same people to an anonymous tip line,

—when you will deport those same people,

—when you will deny healthcare to them because of their gender identity or sexual orientation, or economic status,

—when you will withhold food, medicine, and aid to global partners,

—when you will use the government to sue private companies who value and hire for the diversity reflected in our country,

—when you will kill those same people you claim to love when the government tells you to because you’re a centurion?

What are the limits of our love?

I suspect I am not giving the centurion a fair reading in my heart right now because of what’s happening in the news.

Who knows. Maybe this centurion was leading the resistance. Maybe he had converted to Judaism, and was subverting the unconstitutional commands Caesar and his henchmen were sending his way so they could gain access to the treasury records.

But Luke doesn’t tell us that. If he’s a centurion, it’s because he’s good at obeying the rules of Caesar.

Luke tells us that the centurion agreed with me that he wasn’t worthy of having Jesus visit his home. “Lord, do not trouble yourself, for I am not worthy to have you come under my roof; therefore I did not presume to come to you. But only speak the word, and let my servant be healed.”

We’re told Jesus was amazed. Another translation is he admired him. ‘I tell you, not even in Israel have I found such faith.’

I don’t want Jesus to admire centurions. They were leaders of the Roman occupation, the people who carried out Rome’s unjust and often cruel orders, the ones who subjugated people across the empire.

Remember also that Jesus dies because religious leaders align with Rome. They hand Jesus over on charges of sedition— which is conduct or speech inciting people to rebel against the authority of a state — they hand Jesus over to protect their own privilege and power, using the tools of politics.

I noticed the religious leaders said that the centurion loves “ our people”, which suggests that they may not be as focused on how he loves other people.

That language is worth noting when we hear it today. We hear politicians and Christian leaders say that if we love our family and the people like us first, then we can maybe then also love people further away, if there’s enough love or money to go around.

When we hear that, we should be skeptical. And maybe angry. We should note who they try to include and exclude.

Elsewhere in this gospel, and we’ll hear it in a few weeks, a man comes to Jesus, asking just who, exactly, counts as a neighbor we are supposed to love. And Jesus tells the story of someone outside of the Jewish faith—a Samaritan—who saves a stranger on the side of a wilderness road, after religious leaders had passed him by.

The religious leaders in Luke’s story illustrate a thread that goes through this gospel and the Book of Acts, also written by Luke. There is a constant tension over who is our neighbor, who is to be included, who is worthy of healing. And every single time we draw a line deciding someone is on the other side of it, Jesus tells a story to erase that line.

What makes a person worthy of healing? Are the people oppressed by the centurion and his troops worthy of healing? Are the people who can’t afford to build a synagogue worthy of healing? Are people who don’t know who to ask for healing worthy of healing? People who can’t even ask for healing, maybe because they are dead?

That’s where the story continues.

Jesus hears us asking “who is worthy of healing?” as he walks through the countryside and stumbles upon a funeral procession. He sees a grieving mother, leaning on her friends, no husband or other children in sight, and realizes this woman is a widow, someone who’s only retirement plan, social security and medicare system was her son, now being carried to the cemetery. Her son and her chance at a future are dead.

And Jesus answers our question about who is worthy of healing by telling the grieving mother not to cry, and then bringing her dead son back to life.

For Jesus, there is no category of person—not even a dead one—who is not worthy of healing.

I want to shout this out loud to every single person out there right now who is in the process of dismantling structures of safety, feeding, health care, and the rule of law, especially the ones of them who claim to be doing it because they are Christian.

But the truth is, it has to start in here, with us. As a community, we have to continue to commit to seeing each person as our neighbor, deserving of God’s love and care.

And it has to start even closer in than just this congregation. It has to start in my heart.

Because, as you heard earlier, I would have been a very unhappy disciple if I’d been with Jesus when he turned toward the centurion’s home to offer healing because he built a synagogue.

Who would the centurion be today in your life, the one you could justify all day long that they were not worthy of healing?

Elon Musk’s college aged, proudly racist intern who was breaking into our Social Security records? Would I want Jesus to go heal him?

Perhaps you need to change that illustration for a different political agenda in your heart than the one that is in mine. And I wondered if it was an extreme illustration. But I don’t think it is.

By healing the slave of the centurion, Jesus shows us God’s love is not ours to withhold. God will love and heal who God will love and heal.

By healing the widow’s son, someone who was already dead, Jesus shows us God’s love is stronger even than death.

And that gives us hope when we see the death all around us.

Preacher William Sloan Coffin once said, “Hope resists. Hopelessness adapts.”

Jesus calls us to be in the hope business, resisting our own tendencies to declare people unworthy of God’s concern as surely as we resist those actions from others.

So we continue caring for our neighbors. We continue celebrating the differences between us that make us unique. We continue resisting ideologies that deny the humanity of anyone, because everyone is made in the image of God.

As we continue, hear a portion of this poem by Maya Angelou.

Continue, by Maya Angelou

My wish for you

Is that you continue

Continue

To be who and how you are

To astonish a mean world

With your acts of kindness

Continue

To allow humor to lighten the burden

Of your tender heart

Continue

In a society dark with cruelty

To let the people hear the grandeur

Of God in the peals of your laughter

Continue

To let your eloquence

Elevate the people to heights

They had only imagined

Continue

To remind the people that

Each is as good as the other

And that no one is beneath

Nor above you

Continue

To remember your own young years

And look with favor upon the lost

And the least and the lonely

Continue

To put the mantel of your protection

Around the bodies of

The young and defenseless

Continue

To take the hand of the despised

And diseased and walk proudly with them In the high street

Some might see you and

Be encouraged to do likewise

Continue

To plant a public kiss of concern

On the cheek of the sick

And the aged and infirm

And count that as a Natural action to be expected

Continue

To let gratitude be the pillow

Upon which you kneel to

Say your nightly prayer

And let faith be the bridge

You build to overcome evil

And welcome good…

Amen

Benediction

Angelou’s poem ends like this:

Continue

To ignore no vision

Which comes to enlarge your range

And increase your spirit

Continue

To dare to love deeply

And risk everything

For the good thing

Continue

To float

Happily in the sea of infinite substance

Which set aside riches for you

Before you had a name

Continue

And by doing so

You and your work

Will be able to continue

Eternally

Sermon 02.02.2025: Is it Lawful to do Good or Harm?

Sun, 02 Feb 2025 21:40:20 GMT

Rest and sabbath are necessary. As such, work was prohibited on the sabbath in observance of God's example in creation and commandment in Exodus. But when do our rules hinder rather than promote healing, wholeness, and shalom in our lives? Are Sabbath Day sins allowable in certain circumstances?

Scripture

Luke 6:1-16

One sabbath while Jesus was going through the grainfields, his disciples plucked some heads of grain, rubbed them in their hands, and ate them. But some of the Pharisees said, “Why are you doing what is not lawful on the sabbath?” Jesus answered, “Have you not read what David did when he and his companions were hungry? He entered the house of God and took and ate the bread of the Presence, which it is not lawful for any but the priests to eat, and gave some to his companions?” Then he said to them, “The Son of Man is lord of the sabbath.” On another sabbath he entered the synagogue and taught, and there was a man there whose right hand was withered. The scribes and the Pharisees watched him to see whether he would cure on the sabbath, so that they might find an accusation against him. Even though he knew what they were thinking, he said to the man who had the withered hand, “Come and stand here.” He got up and stood there. Then Jesus said to them, “I ask you, is it lawful to do good or to do harm on the sabbath, to save life or to destroy it?” After looking around at all of them, he said to him, “Stretch out your hand.” He did so, and his hand was restored. But they were filled with fury and discussed with one another what they might do to Jesus.

Now during those days he went out to the mountain to pray; and he spent the night in prayer to God. And when day came, he called his disciples and chose twelve of them, whom he also named apostles: Simon, whom he named Peter, and his brother Andrew, and James, and John, and Philip, and Bartholomew, and Matthew, and Thomas, and James son of Alphaeus, and Simon, who was called the Zealot, and Judas son of James, and Judas Iscariot, who became a traitor.

Sermon

My 5th grader is naturally inclined to be a rule-follower. Some of us are just born that way. So, a few weeks ago, on his overnight fieldtrip with his school, he insisted that he could not take his watch because no electronics were allowed.

Now, granted, it is a Fitbit watch, so it’s more advanced than just your average analog timepiece, but still; compare that to two of his friends who brought smartphones on the trip, and you can see that his adherence to the rules is a lot more strict than most of his peers. Generally, this is a good thing, especially for parenting.

According to the Judicial Learning Center, laws exist to, “protect our general safety, and ensure our rights as citizens against abuses by other people, by organizations, and by the government itself.” [1]

So laws and rules exist for a reason. Namely, we want our society and communities to be safe. We also want them to be fair and provide some stability by setting the expectations that we have for one another. And we want to prevent chaos and conflict when possible, and provide ways to non-violently resolve disputes as needed.

As human beings, even as early as our hunter-gathering days, there were rules and norms that we chose to abide by. It makes sense for a group of people, trying to do life together, to be guided by something bigger than ourselves.

For the ancient Israelites, that something bigger was not just a code of ethics or best practices, but God. And the rules and laws set up by their society was so that they could be good citizens of God’s household.

As such, they had all these rules in place that set them apart from the nation-states around them, and that, hopefully, embodied what God longed for in humanity – particularly for the flourishing of all humankind. For example, “thou shalt not kill” was actually a more radical law than you would think.

Child and human sacrifice was common in ancient civilizations, so to have a law that said, “no, don’t do that” actually set the Israelites apart from their neighbors.

Now, the word “holy,” simply means “set apart,” so when you read all the holiness laws laid out in Leviticus, Deuteronomy, and throughout scripture, they were trying to find ways to set themselves apart from the societies around them.

Now, some of these laws may strike us as kind of strange or TMI (too much information) in this day and age. But there are other laws from Ancient Israel that are abundantly just and almost-ridiculously merciful.

For instance, the gleaning laws – these instructed successful farmers to leave some of their harvest for those who were poor and in need. Sure, legally, that was your land to farm, and that was your harvest. But it was part of your duty, as a citizen of God’s household, to make sure that if you had enough, others could share in your bounty and glean the edges of your fields.

Similarly, every fifty years, there was a year of jubilee. The Ancient Israelites understood that some people would be better at farming than others, that some families would become wealthier than others and acquire more land and status as a result.

But every fifty years, the slate would be wiped clean. Any Israelites who were sold into servanthood due to poverty were freed; all debts owed to one another were forgiven; and land that had been bought or taken would be given back to its original owners.

Everyone had a chance for a new beginning, the opportunity to start over. Jubilee was the great equalizer. And it ensured two things: (1) that nobody could become a billionaire and (2) that generational poverty would not exist.

These laws were codified into the life of our ancestors of faith. Friends, laws should be for the flourishing of all people.

But we know that not all laws promote healing and human flourishing. In fact, some laws, court decisions, and executive orders, do the absolute opposite. This is because what is legal is too often a matter of power and who’s got that power, rather than a matter of justice.

We all know that slavery was legal, and freeing slaves was criminalized. The Holocaust was legal, and hiding Jews was criminalized. Apartheid was legal, and protesting the system was criminalized. The internment of Japanese descendants was legal, and refusing to go willingly was criminalized. But none of it was moral or right or how God would want us to live.

In today’s stories from scripture, Jesus, chooses compassion over laws. The Pharisees, a group of religious leaders and scholars, identified 613 commandments regarding the Sabbath. Honoring the sabbath was one of the original 10 commandments, and one that we witness God observing on the seventh day of creation.

Sabbath was important; sabbath is still necessary. But 613 rules to define what is okay and not okay on the sabbath? That’s a lot. And not always helpful.

So when asked, “Why are you doing what is not lawful on the sabbath?” Jesus responds to the question with another question: “Is it lawful to do good or to do harm on the sabbath, to save life or to destroy it?”

And Jesus asks this because Jesus valued people over rules. And he didn’t come to break the law but to fulfill it, for the law of God, ultimately, is and always has been: LOVE.

As citizens of this country, we are expected to follow the laws of the land. But as citizens of the household of God, we are ultimately expected to follow the laws of love, compassion, and justice. So what do we do when what is legal does not align with what is loving?

Now, I am hesitant to advocate that any one of us go and break the law. I spent a semester in law school before quitting; I understand laws are important. And like my fifth grader, I am wired to be a rule-follower.

But I do think as followers of Jesus, we are required to critically engage with the law and to examine how and where it might be causing harm, especially to those who are the most vulnerable among us. So if that means denying entrance to ICE, or protecting the rights of transgender youth, if that means going with the “DEI” hire, (which, by the way, have you seen me?) then so be it.

Just twelve days ago, we marched for the legacy of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. And in “A Letter from a Birmingham Jail” he wrote: “… there are two types of laws: There are just laws and there are unjust laws.” He says, “I would be the first to advocate obeying just laws. One has not only a legal but a moral responsibility to obey just laws. Conversely, one has a moral responsibility to disobey unjust laws.”

Dr. King used non-violent, direct action, that sometimes broke laws in order to change a system that was designed to oppress and dehumanize people. He did so because his allegiance wasn’t to the American flag or the United States government, but to the realm of God.

And friends, the truth of the matter is, we are, first and foremost, members of the kingdom of God, so we get our marching orders from God, not from any government or human ruler, not from any president or supreme court. And when the government fails to uphold human flourishing, compassion, and justice, perhaps it is time to resist.

Pop culture knows this! We watched Star Wars and sided with the Resistance. We watched Harry Potter and sided with the resistance. We watched The Hunger Games and The Matrix and sided with the resistance.

And history tells a similar story. We learned about the Nazis and well, hopefully, we side with the resistance. We learned about apartheid, the civil rights movement and slavery and side with the resistance, the likes of Harriet Tubman and Frederick Douglass, Dr. King and Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Nelson Mandela and Sophie Scholl. They were the resistance.

And, finally, we learned about the Roman occupation of first century Palestine and sided with the resistance in the form of Jesus Christ. That’s why Jesus was crucified after all, not just for blasphemy, which means speaking against God, but for sedition which means speaking against the state or ruler. Jesus was a threat because he was willing to break unjust laws for the sake of healing people and feeding people and making people whole.

We who have gathered here today are called to be followers of Jesus. Being a follower of Jesus doesn’t necessarily make our lives easier; I’m sorry to break it to you. In fact, it often complicates things.

But it also fills our lives with love, an outpouring of love, given to us and given to the world, so that our sense of what is right is not determined by human laws but by a deep love for God and a deep love for humanity.

And for many of us gathered here today, to resist what is unjust doesn’t mean we need to add a million things to our to-do list, it just means that we will do all that we’ve been doing with more intention and more awareness. For example, Calvary will continue to walk with immigrants, refugees, and asylum seekers, but we will do so with more compassion and intention knowing that fear is more prevalent than ever as hostility, hate, and policies stoke that fear.

Calvary will still feed those who are hungry, seek housing for those who are unhoused, and we will speak out and speak up, so that everyone knows that the loudest Christian voices do not speak for all people of faith.

Maybe you’ll join a march or an action that is new to you. Maybe you’ll give more financially in support of the mission of those who are doing on-the-ground work.

Maybe you’ll call your congresspeople more, or call your family members more. Some of you may feel an urgency that brings you to a whole new line of work and vocation. But for many of us, resistance is in the small acts of kindness and compassion that fight back against the rhetoric of hate and chaos.

The good news is this: We do not do the work of resistance on our own. God leads us and beckons us to follow. And God places us in community, so that we have others with whom to resist.

And friends, this Jesus, whom we follow, he does not let the resistance go hungry. We are invited to the table of grace again and again. We are fed, by the bread of life and cup of salvation, again and again.

And at this table, we are given the sustenance we need for the long journey ahead. And we are given the great cloud of witnesses and amazing colleagues, friends, and community whom we need for the long journey ahead.

So let us eat, and let us partake often. Let us be filled, for the work ahead is arduous and exhausting but made easier by the company and the food we feed one another.

And now, as the people of God, let us rise and say together a portion of what we believe using the words from the Belhar Confession. Church, what do we believe?

We believe

• that God has revealed Godself as the one who wishes to bring about justice and true peace among people;

• that God, in a world full of injustice and enmity, is in a special way the God of the destitute, the poor and the wronged

• that God calls the church to follow God in this; for God brings justice to the oppressed and gives bread to the hungry;

• that God frees the prisoner and restores sight to the blind;

• that God supports the downtrodden, protects the stranger, helps orphans and widows and blocks the path of the ungodly;

• that for God pure and undefiled religion is to visit the orphans and the widows in their suffering;

• that God wishes to teach the church to do what is good and to seek the right;

• that the church must therefore stand by people in any form of suffering and need, which implies, among other things, that the church must witness

against and strive against any form of injustice, so that justice may roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream;

• that the church as the possession of God must stand where the Lord stands, namely against injustice and with the wronged; that in following Christ the

church must witness against all the powerful and privileged who selfishly seek their own interests and thus control and harm others.

Therefore, we reject any ideology

• which would legitimate forms of injustice and any doctrine which is unwilling to resist such an ideology in the name of the gospel.

We believe that, in obedience to Jesus Christ, its only head, the church is called to confess and to do all these things, even though the authorities and human laws might forbid them and punishment and suffering be the consequence.

Jesus is Lord.

To the one and only God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, be the honor and the glory for ever and ever.

Amen.

[1] https://judiciallearningcenter.org/law-and-the-rule-of law/#:~:text=Laws%20protect%20our%20general%20safety,provide%20for%20our%20general%20safety.

Sermon 01.26.2025: Fishing for People

Sun, 26 Jan 2025 21:31:57 GMT

In today's Gospel lesson, we'll hear the story of the disciples becoming disciples--the moment they followed Jesus.

Do you have a moment when you followed Jesus? Or did it happen over time? Are you still figuring out what it means to follow Jesus? Come and see what God is calling us to today.

Scripture

Luke 5:1-11

Once while Jesus was standing beside the lake of Gennesaret, and the crowd was pressing in on him to hear the word of God, he saw two boats there at the shore of the lake; the fishermen had gone out of them and were washing their nets. He got into one of the boats, the one belonging to Simon, and asked him to put out a little way from the shore. Then he sat down and taught the crowds from the boat. When he had finished speaking, he said to Simon, ‘Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.’

Simon answered, ‘Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing. Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets.’ When they had done this, they caught so many fish that their nets were beginning to break. So they signalled to their partners in the other boat to come and help them. And they came and filled both boats, so that they began to sink. But when Simon Peter saw it, he fell down at Jesus’ knees, saying, ‘Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!’ For he and all who were with him were amazed at the catch of fish that they had taken; and so also were James and John, sons of Zebedee, who were partners with Simon. Then Jesus said to Simon, ‘Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching people.’ When they had brought their boats to shore, they left everything and followed him.

Sermon

Our story today from the Gospel of Luke is about the call of the disciples. Jesus is walking along and a huge crowd is following him, wanting to hear what he has to say. He walks by the shore, where some fishermen have just come in from their night’s work and are putting away the motors, cleaning the nets, stacking up the life jackets, etc.

For these fishermen, you wonder if Jesus and the crowd that is following him are just a nuisance. “Excuse me, people. I know you want to see Jesus, but could you please not stand on my nets???”

Then Jesus just climbs in Simon Peter’s boat and says, “Put out from shore a little way.”

Peter obeys. And Jesus teaches to the crowd gathered on the shore.

But when he’s done teaching, he turns to Simon and says, “Take the boat to deeper water and set out your nets for a catch.”

And Peter, no matter what he thought about this instruction from the guy who wasn’t a fisherman, Peter does mention the facts— we fished all night and caught nothing thank you very much —and goes on to say, “but if you say so, we’ll do it .”

In Matthew and Mark, when they talk about calling the disciples, the call appears to be the first time Jesus has met the disciples. And in those accounts, it is even more remarkable that Simon goes along with the pleas of this stranger who has climbed into his boat.

In Luke’s story, though, listen to this story from the previous chapter, beginning at 4:38, right after the story Victor preached last week, the one where Jesus got run out of town for preaching mercy:

“After leaving the synagogue, Jesus entered Simon’s house. Now Simon’s mother-in-law was suffering from a high fever and they asked Jesus about her. Then Jesus stood over her and rebuked the fever, and it left her.”

We don’t know if Jesus knew Simon before this healing story at Simon’s house in Capernaum. I’ve been to Capernaum. Other than the church now built over the ruins of Peter’s house, the rest of it looks very undeveloped, so you can imagine Jesus walking there. The ruins of the synagogue are very near where Simon’s house is, and it is all very close to the shore of the Galilee. It was one of my favorite places in the Holy Land. I felt close to Jesus when I was there.

The picture on the bulletin cover is one my friend Kelley took on one of her trips to the Holy Land, from the shore of the Sea of Galilee.

In Luke’s account, when Jesus gets in Simon’s boat, Simon already knows exactly who Jesus his. Jesus is the guy who can rebuke a fever and heal a loved one. (We’re going to assume he had a good relationship with his mother-in-law. The Bible isn’t clear).

Everything I thought I knew about the call of the disciples is up for grabs in the way Luke orders the story.

Simon has seen what Jesus can do, yet Simon is not in the crowd, pressing in on Jesus. Simon is washing his nets after a night of work. Simon’s first encounter with Jesus has not immediately translated to following Jesus. Simon is still a fisherman. He is not a disciple.

So Jesus comes to him again. Jesus is like that. Sometimes we (or our loved ones) need healing. Sometimes we need help fishing. Jesus keeps meeting us where we are and inviting us to take the next step. Because maybe Jesus has things for us to do.

‘Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing. Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets.’

Simon Peter’s decision to cast the nets again is at least a glimmer of faith, a willingness to trust that maybe this Jesus guy is worth listening to. And as soon as the nets are in the water, the fish arrive. So many fish their nets start to break. So they call the other boat to come out and their nets are full up. And then they are concerned the boats will sink under the weight of the harvest.

Peter drops to his knees and tells Jesus that he is a sinful man and so Jesus ought to just leave him.

Peter has now recognized something in Jesus—from how he healed his mother-in-law, to what Jesus had said when he was teaching, to the authority with which he commanded them, to the way he out-fished the professional fishermen—Peter recognized that Jesus was not like us.

Peter recognized his own broken, sinful humanity and realized if this Rabbi is looking for people to become like him, for someone to teach all he knows, then Jesus better look somewhere else because we’re not worthy.

And have you ever had an experience where you were selected for something you thought you weren’t qualified for? Ever been picked for a sports team and wondered, “Why’d they pick me when so and so hasn’t been chosen yet?” Sometimes when you have those moments, where people pick YOU, instead of picking the people you would have chosen, do you ever hear that voice in your head with imposter syndrome, saying, “If they chose me then I guess they aren’t quite as smart as I thought they were?”

I absolutely understand Peter dropping to his knees and telling Jesus he picked the wrong boat. “It is very nice that you stopped by, and I really appreciate this big haul of fish, but I know these guys—and trust me— we are not the disciples you’re looking for.”

Jesus tells them to leave behind their nets, their boats, the giant haul of fish they just caught, and to also leave behind their fears of their own inadequacy, their fears that they have nothing to offer to God because they are “just” fishermen, and their fears that Jesus has made a bad decision that he will regret in a few days.

If Jesus wants disciples like Peter, then there is room for us. If Jesus didn’t go to career day at the Temple to pick out his disciples, we should take note. If he called disciples who were just minding their own business, fixing their nets, going to soccer practice, binge watching something on Netflix, whatever, then perhaps we should expect him to call us as well.

Perhaps all of the excuses we use to NOT answer Jesus’ call—not educated, not old enough, too old, not smart enough, too smart, too busy, whatever—perhaps all of those excuses aren’t going to work.

After Peter points out to Jesus that Jesus is hanging out with the wrong people— namely Peter and his friends —Jesus says, “Have no fear, Peter. From now on, you will be fishing for people.”

I’ve been thinking about this metaphor—fishing for people. And it can be a little troubling. We don’t throw hooks into people so we can snag them out of their lives into an environment where they can’t breathe and bring them into the nets of our churches.

But all of my life I’ve heard this story preached as an evangelism story. If you become a disciple and follow Jesus, your church will grow so big, your nets will break.

I had a different sermon partially written for today, but the actions of this week sent me back to the drawing board. I promise you I try not to be partisan in my preaching, but this week, our government was dismantled by a felon, while his party cheered him on.

He pardoned dangerous convicted criminals who sought to overthrow the government 4 years ago when he lost the election, all while claiming his draconian immigration orders are to save us from criminals crossing the border.

He wrote executive orders that cannot change the law, but can create chaos and confusion. One of them ended birthright citizenship, something enshrined in the Constitution he vowed to protect.

He is threatening the deportation of millions of people, and promising to invade churches, hospitals, and schools to find them.

He is seeking to remove rights from LGBTQIA citizens, and is endangering the health and safety of trans kids.

His supporters have made death threats to an Episcopal priest who preached a sermon where she kindly asked the president to show mercy to vulnerable people. One sitting member of congress said the priest should be deported, even though she was born in New Jersey.

This week, Jesus’ call to ‘fish for people’ didn’t feel like an instruction to go get more church members, the way I’d always heard it preached. This week, it felt like a call to take our boats out into a storm to rescue people who are at risk of drowning, throwing a lifeline to people clinging to the wreckage created by this administration.

To be a disciple, a follower of Jesus, in these days, is going to involve some motion sickness, choppy water, and waves that threaten to overtake our lifeboats. And if you don’t feel qualified for that work, you’re not alone. But Jesus calls the disciples even when they don’t have any qualifications for the job. Jesus calls us to fish for people.

I don’t like this anymore than you do. My preferred day by water and boats includes sunscreen and a good book. I don’t want to have to put on a lifejacket and brave stormy seas. In truth, I feel more qualified to sit on the shore with a book than I do to go into the storm. But there is a storm raging in our country today and Jesus calls us to respond. So we will.

I’ve been thinking about Peter a lot this week. How he’d seen Jesus heal his mother in law, gone back about his life as a fisherman, and then encountered Jesus again by his boat.

I bet he didn’t want to take his boat back out at all. I bet there was a part of him that had zero desire to fish for people that day. Because he was tired. Because he hadn’t been able to catch fish the night before and wondered how effective he could possibly be fishing for people.

But scripture tells us that he obeyed Jesus’ instruction to fish for people. And it changed his life, and he became Peter, the rock on whom Jesus built the church.

What happened this week in politics was intentional. It was a campaign of shock and awe, intended to overwhelm us, to distract us. He continues to talk about invading Greenland, so we won’t notice he’s ended funding for cancer research, disaster assistance, public health, etc.

If you are overwhelmed and worried, it is a good thing, even if it feels terrible right now. It means you don’t think cruelty is okay. It means you care for the safety of people other than yourself. It means you don’t want to normalize nazi salutes and racism in government policies.

Jesus is calling us to respond, to get back into our boats, armed with life jackets and Dramamine, and head into the storm so we can fish for people who need the church to show up and help them keep from drowning.

The one thing that has brought me comfort this week is you. We don’t have to do this alone, isolated from each other. We do this together. When Peter’s boat started sinking because he had too many fish in his nets, he signaled to his friends to bring their boats and come and help. And they did. I am grateful for this community, for this congregation.

This is not the first time Calvary has had to stand together, to save people from drowning in the storms of life. Woven throughout our 170-year history are countless stories of Calvary people braving the waves to fish for people hanging on to debris from the shipwrecks of life. Jesus is calling us to do it again.

Not for a political agenda, but for love, for mercy, for hope. Anne Lamott, in one of her recent books, writes this:

“Love is our only hope. It is not always the easiest choice, but it is always the right one, the noble path, the way home to safety, no matter how bleak the future looks.”

Love is the path through the storm we’re in. Let’s put on our life jackets and fish for people together.

Sermon 01.19.2025: Free at Last!

Sun, 19 Jan 2025 22:13:42 GMT

Jesus preached a message that still changes the world. Dr. King received it and heeded it—God's undying promise of release, recovery and repair.

Scripture

Luke 4:14-30

Then Jesus, filled with the power of the Spirit, returned to Galilee, and a report about him spread through all the surrounding country. He began to teach in their synagogues and was praised by everyone.

When he came to Nazareth, where he had been brought up, he went to the synagogue on the sabbath day, as was his custom. He stood up to read, and the scroll of the prophet Isaiah was given to him. He unrolled the scroll and found the place where it was written:

‘The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,

because he has anointed me

to bring good news to the poor.

He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives

and recovery of sight to the blind,

to let the oppressed go free,

to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favour.’

And he rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant, and sat down. The eyes of all in the synagogue were fixed on him. Then he began to say to them, ‘Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.’ All spoke well of him and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his mouth. They said, ‘Is not this Joseph’s son?’ He said to them, ‘Doubtless you will quote to me this proverb, “Doctor, cure yourself!” And you will say, “Do here also in your home town the things that we have heard you did at Capernaum.” ’ And he said, ‘Truly I tell you, no prophet is accepted in the prophet’s home town. But the truth is, there were many widows in Israel in the time of Elijah, when the heaven was shut up for three years and six months, and there was a severe famine over all the land; yet Elijah was sent to none of them except to a widow at Zarephath in Sidon. There were also many lepers* in Israel in the time of the prophet Elisha, and none of them was cleansed except Naaman the Syrian.’ When they heard this, all in the synagogue were filled with rage. They got up, drove him out of the town, and led him to the brow of the hill on which their town was built, so that they might hurl him off the cliff. But he passed through the midst of them and went on his way.

Sermon

Freedom From.

Sixty-something years ago, the Spirit of the Lord was upon a group of Latin American Catholics, leading them to develop a Theology of Liberation. It teaches us that all who call ourselves Christian, first and foremost must care for the poor and the vulnerable. [1] To the oppressed, liberation theology offers relief from powerless suffering. For affluent Christians of good conscience, liberation theology can give us purpose. Liberation theology urges us not to become “pew potatoes”, to preach the gospel with our actions.

Freedom To.

Liberation is freedom from—freedom from disease, from fear, from oppression. Today, we wait in hope for the cessation of war in Gaza. A ceasefire is freedom from fighting. But how free are people who have lost everything but their breath? Freedom from is step one. It must be lead toward freedom to. In John’s gospel, Jesus says that he came so that human beings might have life and to have life in abundance—freedom to thrive as our True Selves, instruments of God’s peace, to welcome home the outcast, to proclaim the day of jubilee, to forgive debts and to restore sight to blinded minds, to speak truth to power, to go where the pain is greatest and to love, like Jesus. To love it all, the whole spectrum of experience, good and bad.

Societal Virtues.

Freedom, argues Timothy Snyder, is the highest societal virtue. Freedom encompasses other virtues like abundance, humor, courage, mercy. Human dignity would be nothing without freedom. Such freedom must include selflessness and a faith that never gives up. Freedom values truthfulness and equal justice under the law. No one will be free until we live peacefully as equals. Today’s gospel lesson 3 offers a deep understanding of freedom. God’s brand of freedom calls people to reconcile and live together with respect.

Sermon at Nazareth.

Did you notice how, at first, Jesus impressed everybody with his hometown performance art sermon. How often have I wanted to get up in front of everybody, read a killer passage from scripture, like Jesus did, Isaiah 61. Mic drop. Deal with it. You heard the Bible. Do that. By reading from Isaiah 61, Jesus comes out as God’s anointed advocate for the outsider: poor people, disabled people, women, non-citizens, oppressed people, and incarcerated people. AT first, the congregation was impressed.

Hometown boy’s done good! Jesus laughs it off, telling them that they will eventually find something to object to. They loved me over in Capernaum, but prophets are never accepted in their hometown. And then to make his point, he keeps on preaching. (Always a bad idea. Stop while you’re ahead. Land the plane. Do not circle in search of a better landing strip. Land the plane!) Jesus kept on speaking from his seat in the congregation. An important symbol. The Word matters more out there than up here. The Word must be preached through the actions of people [2] . What happened to turn the crowd on Jesus? Sam Candler writes:

Well, what happened is that Jesus declared…quite plainly, that his mission would go far beyond the comfortable confines of Nazareth, and far beyond even…the Hebrew tradition. Jesus was hinting that he did not belong to Nazareth, did not belong to his parents, did not belong even to the synagogue! [3]

Jesus recounted some inconvenient history using two biblical examples:

Ex. 1. There was a great famine in the days of Elijah, leaving countless widows in Israel. But God sent Elijah to a widow in Sidon, outside of Israel!

Ex. 2. While there were plenty of lepers in Israel, Elisha was instead sent to somebody from Syria! Syria is not part of the chosen people! [4]

God’s mercy extends outside the family, crosses the border, ventures out on the margins to people who don’t look or act like us. God’s love is too big for tribalism. God’s love is too inclusive for nationalism. The Nazarean congregation’s boundary defenders glared at Jesus, crossed their arms, sucked their teeth.

Coffee Talk. Can you imagine the talk at coffee hour? 1) “Well, Lordy, how about that! I remember back when Joseph brought him and that girl home from Egypt. What’s her name, begins with an M?

Doesn’t Matter.

Who ever thought he’d come back so, I don’t know, reprogrammed.” 2) “He’s a little uppity if you ask me. He’s says that he’s just back from a hippy-dippy retreat out in the wilderness. He fasted for 40 days and came to grips with his demons, whatever that means.” 3) “Why would he choose that scripture anyway? Good news for the poor? Prisoners running free? And that last verse about the year of the Lord’s favor, you know that means total debt forgiveness, don’t you? That’s not fair to me! I paid off my loans. Sounds woke.”

DEI & Dei.

Calvary’s communications director, Jess Churchill, recently pointed out to me that DEI (diversity, equity, inclusion) [5] is also the Latin word for God—“Dei” as in deity, or the term imago Dei, our foundational belief that the image of God is imprinted on every human being without exception. Let that deceptively-shallow fun fact counterbalance some of the San-Francisco trolling that is certain to come.

In 2025, it’s next to impossible to name a moral virtue that does not sound “woke”. It seems that some billionaires and their algorithms are just fine with wrong and right trading places. Societal morals? Meh. Fact checking? Why bother! [6] The same flavor of misguidedness made the people want to hurl Jesus off a cliff.

MLK.

At the time of his assassination, Dr. King was the most hated man in this nation. [7] To borrow Isaiah’s words, he was despised and rejected. [8] Stanford philosopher René Girard argued [9] that every story about Jesus can be understood through a lens of rejection and reconciliation. Every time, Girard identifies a scapegoat (or outcast, a powerless person, a straw man) that Jesus restores to a better life. Jesus heals them, restores their vision. He lets them walk again, feeds them, saves them from death. Jesus brings home the lost. Jesus eventually becomes the scapegoat of the Empire and the religious gatekeepers. God reconciles Jesus to this realm, resurrected and alive. Reconciliation clears the path to freedom.

Unfreedom.

Nestled deep in the Appalachian foothills of northwest Georgia lies my hometown. Plainville. Population 310. Plainville is further north and smaller than Plains. It is home to at least eight churches, most of them some variation on Southern Baptist, but the Floyd Family attended the United Methodist Church with the sophisticated hillbillies. Travel with me back in time to the early seventies. I am eight or nine years old. My parents in their late thirties. My mother drives a Ford Galaxy, my father an Oldsmobile, the company car.

It is a Sunday afternoon. That morning during worship, the Methodist preacher, Parson Lash, from Upstate New York, had informed us that the AME church was invited to worship with us at a special revival service Sunday evening. Although no one drove Parson Lash out to a cliff for hurling, they wanted to. Everybody called my mother that afternoon. At one point, she got so tired of listening, she laid down the receiver and walked off. When she returned, the caller hadn’t noticed a thing. My mother interrupted. “So, are y’all going tonight, cause we are. Okay then, we’ll tell you all about it. I hope Mrs. Waters comes, too. I just love her. Bye now.” Mrs. Waters was a big cinnamon-colored woman who did babysitting. Everybody loved Mrs. Waters. On reflection, I’m sad that I don’t remember much else about her, other than when she brought food to share, it was the best to beat my father to it.

My mother, Barbara, and her friend, Annie Ruth, agreed to dress up that night as a sign of welcome. “Now, Bah-bra,” that how Annie Ruth said my mother’s name. “Bah-bra. The colored people [10] dress up for church more than we do. Do not wear pants to church, like you did this morning.” When we got there, some people were already gathering on the lawn in front of the church. At the foot of the red brick steps, the AME [11] pastor led his congregation to kneel. There was a charged silence. Then he lifted his voice in prayer, that God might make them worthy to enter this White man’s church. Some of the women cried and prayed aloud for God to forgive them for violating this mysterious sacred place.

I wouldn’t understand what had happened until much later, but something in eight-year-old me knew to pay attention. I don’t remember one thing from that revival service, but I do remember that afterwards my mother railed in the car, “Who told them that? Why do they think that? Do they really think that?” And she cried. Because of her own growing-up problems, she had never been challenged to live an examined life. The local school curriculum was controlled by people who chose to exclude the sad parts of history like slavery, Jim Crow, the Klan, even the mass expulsion of the Cherokee Indians from Georgia to Oklahoma on the Trail of Tears.

Consequently, these descendants of slaves had been conditioned to accept the lies of racism. Justice delayed is more than justice denied. It’s psycho-spiritual abuse. While the dominant society puts off doing what is right, the scapegoats of society begin to think they might deserve their lot, that they are indeed defective pariahs.

Has society taught you to fear yourself? To accept second class treatment? To apologize for having convictions? As an out gay man, I have tasted the poison of discrimination, but my faith has freed me to give back so that others might have better lives.

As long as the abuse of trans children is encouraged by law, the church has a duty to demand justice. As long as there are immigrants who are used and dehumanized as scapegoats in service of an intentionally-broken system, the church has a duty to demand justice. As long as women are deprived of equal rights of healthcare and equal pay, the church has a duty to demand justice. As long as there is exploitation of the planet entrusted to our care, the church has a duty to demand justice.

In 1963, Dr. King’s Letter from Birmingham Jail spoke directly to the mainline White church, the moderates who kept delaying. Sixty years later, I wonder, is Dr. King’s letter still timely? Now I ask you sincerely, who was freer, the powerful Grand Wizard and his Klansmen or the incarcerated Dr. King and his freedom marchers? The gospel of Jesus Christ offers everyone (without exception) a freedom that cannot be contained.

Affirmation of Faith.

Let us rise and affirm our faith with words written sixty-one years ago by a persecuted Christian in Birmingham, Alabama.

Though I was initially disappointed at being categorized as an extremist, as I continued to think about the matter I gradually gained a measure of satisfaction from the label. Was not Jesus an extremist for love: “Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you.” Was not Amos an extremist for justice: “Let justice roll down like waters and righteousness like an ever flowing stream.” Was not Martin Luther an extremist: “Here I stand; I cannot do otherwise, so help me God.” So the question is not whether we will be extremists, but what kind of extremists we will be. Will we be extremists for hate or for love? Will we be extremists for the preservation of injustice or for the extension of justice?

We know through painful experience that freedom is never voluntarily given by the oppressor; it must be demanded by the oppressed.

Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly. Never again can we afford to live with the narrow, provincial “outside agitator” idea. [12]

1 Dault, Kira (January 22, 2015). “What Is the Preferential Option for the Poor?”. U.S. Catholic. 80: 46. Archived from the original on July 10, 2020.

2 St. Francis of Assisi: Preach the gospel at all times. Use words only when necessary.

3 “Jesus and His Hometown” sermon by Sam Candler, St. Philip, Atlanta, 2013, accessible online at< https://www.cathedralatl.org/sermons/jesus-and-his-hometown/>

4 Ibid.

5 The opposite of diversity, equity and inclusion would be uniformity, inequity and ostracism. Uniformity is antithetical to reality, and essential for fascism. Inequity empowers racism and sexism, Islamaphobia and transphobia, and all the well-constructed lies that seek to divide us as human beings, systems that rely on ostracism (scapegoats) to establish and maintain cohesion.

6 Zuck. < https://www.npr.org/2025/01/12/nx-s1-5252739/meta-backs-away-from-fact-checking-in-the-u-s>

7 < https://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/why-martin-luther-king-had-75-percent-disapproval-rating-year-he-died-180968664/>

8 Isaiah 53:3

9 René Girard, The Scapegoat, Johns Hopkins University Press, 1989.

10 Dated language that was actually progressive in the early 1970s rural South, unacceptable now.

11 African Methodist Episcopal, historically Black Christian denomination < https://www.ame-church.com/>

12 Adapted for this liturgy from Letter from Birmingham Jail by Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. 1963. < https://letterfromjail.com/>. The PC(USA) is considering adding Dr. Kings Letter to our Book of Confessions. Amen to that.

Sermon 01.12.2025: What Then Should We Do

Sun, 12 Jan 2025 19:17:36 GMT

When John shows up in the wilderness, baptizing the crowds and preaching a message of repentance, all of the people asked him, 'what then should we do?'

2,000 years later, we are asking the same question. How do we live faithful lives in a complicated world? How can we follow Jesus, together?

Scripture

Luke 3:1-22

In the fifteenth year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, and Herod was ruler of Galilee, and his brother Philip ruler of the region of Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanias ruler of Abilene, during the high priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas, the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness.

He went into all the region around the Jordan, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins, as it is written in the book of the words of the prophet Isaiah, “The voice of one crying out in the wilderness: ‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight. Every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill shall be made low, and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough ways made smooth; and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.’”

John said to the crowds that came out to be baptized by him, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? Bear fruits worthy of repentance. Do not begin to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our ancestor’; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham. Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.”

And the crowds asked him, “What then should we do?”

In reply he said to them, “Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none; and whoever has food must do likewise.”

Even tax collectors came to be baptized, and they asked him, “Teacher, what should we do?”

He said to them, “Collect no more than the amount prescribed for you.”

Soldiers also asked him, “And we, what should we do?” He said to them, “Do not extort money from anyone by threats or false accusation, and be satisfied with your wages.”

As the people were filled with expectation, and all were questioning in their hearts concerning John, whether he might be the Messiah, John answered all of them by saying, “I baptize you with water; but one who is more powerful than I is coming; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand, to clear his threshing floor and to gather the wheat into his granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.”

So, with many other exhortations, he proclaimed the good news to the people. But Herod the ruler, who had been rebuked by him because of Herodias, his brother’s wife, and because of all the evil things that Herod had done, added to them all by shutting up John in prison.

Now when all the people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized and was praying, the heaven was opened, and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

Sermon

Good morning, you brood of vipers.

Two of my favorite “churchy” holidays fall in the same week of the church year. They are Epiphany, when the wise men finally make it to the Holy Family, and Baptism of the Lord Sunday, when Jesus is baptized by John in the Jordan River. They take place about 30 years apart in Jesus’ life, but a few days apart in the church calendar. Time is like that sometimes.

Both of these celebrations of the church are worth noting and remembering.

Epiphany means “to reveal.”

In the context of the magi, those foreign astronomers who followed the star to Jesus, it is the revealing of the Messiah to people outside the family, so to speak. The magi are the first non-Jewish people to get their own revelation about Jesus.

In the context of Jesus ’baptism, the epiphany is God’s own voice speaking from the heavens.

But first we have John the Baptist, who as a child in his mother’s womb, leapt when pregnant Mary visited.

He’s been waiting 30 years for the epiphany of the Messiah.

He calls ALL to repentance and speaks of the winnowing fork and separating the wheat from the chaff.

John’s message reveals an uncomfortable and inconvenient Good News to a brood of vipers such as us.

REPENT. TURN BACK TOWARD GOD.

This Good News may not feel like Good News to the people hearing it.

Don’t think that the fact you were born into the right family, or the right congregation is going to matter.

John, by calling them a brood of vipers, as opposed to a passel of vipers, or a crowd, or a bunch, or a gaggle, is claiming that they are the children, the offspring, of these vipers. They come from a family of vipers. And surely the snakes from whom they are descended didn’t lead them to repentance. John has not much nice to say about the religious leaders of his community.

So John asks them— who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? Who, he wants to know, called them to this repentance.

I imagine the crowd on the riverbanks started to reconsider following this guy. “Umm…you did, John. Youre the one who called us here. Remember? Voice crying out in the wilderness and all that?”

But what were they expecting when they came to the riverbanks? One event that would magically change their lives so that nothing bad would ever happen to them? An easy, “presto!” moment of salvation that doesn’t require any change in your life?

John‘s preaching calls them to something much deeper. Sure, he can baptize large crowds, but if they are just going to go home and live as if everything is the same, except now they have magic salvation power, then it is just a waste of everyone’s time.

To the crowd’s credit, they seem to get it. This epiphany works. If John preached that message to us, here in this sanctuary, would we accept it the way the crowd by the riverbank seemed to?

At the end of this long lecture about vipers, axes leaning against trees, and everlasting fire, instead of fleeing back to the comfort of their homes, they ask him “What, then, should we do?”

His answers are pretty specific. If you have 2 coats, you should share with someone who doesn’t have one. If you have plenty of food, you should share with those who are hungry. He might speak metaphorically with the axe lying at the root of the tree, but here the directions are clear and to the point.

His answers are specific to different people as well. If you are a tax collector, those people who make their living by collecting money from their own people to give to the occupying Roman leaders, you are told to only collect what has been assigned—no skimming off the top at the expense of your people.

If you are a soldier, you should be a soldier with integrity.

Interestingly, his instructions are fairly modest. He doesn’t tell the crowds they can’t have nice things. He just says they have to share what they have. He doesn’t tell the tax collectors to stop being agents of the Romans. He doesn’t tell the soldiers to become pacifists.

Following God’s call, for John, means to be who you are, with integrity. Not everyone needs to quit their jobs and become Pharisees, preachers, or prophets.

Just be who you are. With integrity.

So, heeding John’s call to repentance means that your life should be “of a piece.” In other words, you shouldn’t come to church on Sunday to be a Christian, and then rob, cheat, or steal during the rest of the week.

I was writing this sermon as the election was certified this past week. I remember what happened 4 years ago, when people now being called ‘patriots’ stormed the Capitol and attempted to stop the certification of the election, while also seeking to murder Vice President Pence.

It is easy to critique the people involved with that attempted insurrection as we hear John the Baptist calling people to live with integrity. And it is worth keeping a clear memory of what happened, and not let lies become truths.

But what is more difficult is charting our own course to live with integrity. It can be easy for me to focus on those people egregiously living without integrity and then I forget to focus on my own behavior.

When it comes down to it, the only person I can change is myself. Alas. Am I repenting and returning to God in the best way I can? Are you repenting and returning to God in the best way you can? John doesn’t call us to point out who needs repentance more than we do. He calls us to our own repentance.

John wanted those who were coming to be baptized to understand the life altering implications of their actions. Living as people of repentance means we share what we have, look out for others, live with integrity, and by so doing, prepare a way in the wilderness, making a straight highway for our God.

The question of what then should we do leads to a big epiphany, because it calls for change.

And it opens you up for trouble too. Inserted rather clunkily into this text is an accounting of John being arrested by Herod. The way Luke puts it in the story, you wonder who baptizes Jesus if John’s already been arrested and sent to prison. All four gospels tell of Jesus baptism, and I have great confidence it was, indeed John who baptized him.

In order for John’s life to be “of a piece”, however, he had to say inconvenient things to dangerous people. Herod had many evil behaviors with which John disagreed, and when Herod married his brother’s wife, (and according to another gospel), said he would have dated his own daughter if she weren’t his daughter, John publicly spoke against the immorality.

One gets the sense that had Herod come with the crowds to be baptized, after John had given career advice to the tax collectors and soldiers, had Herod asked, “what then should I do?”, John might have said, “and if you're Tetrarch, then rule the people with fairness and justice and stop asking your daughter to dance for you. Thats disgusting.”

Speaking truth to power will get John killed. The Good News of the Gospel is not uniformly received as being good news. If you’re unwilling to be changed by it, it is threatening news.

In Luke’s gospel, Jesus’ baptism is stuck at the end of this story about John, and John’s arrest. Yet Jesus’ baptism is connected to everyone else’s baptisms too. In Luke’s telling of the story, you wonder if Jesus was with the crowd at the beginning and if he, too, asked, “what then, shall we do?” as they did.

This is another one of those moments in scripture where we realize our faith is personal, but it is not private. Jesus doesn’t get his own, private baptism that is unrelated to his community. He’s baptized as the crowd is baptized.

His baptism takes a turn that perhaps didn’t happen when you or I were baptized. The heavens are opened. In Greek, they are “torn apart”, as if ripped and therefore not fully able to be closed again.

And if the tearing apart of the boundary between heaven and earth wasn’t exciting enough, the Holy Spirit descends like a dove, or a dive bombing pigeon. And a voice from heaven:

“You are my Son, the Beloved. With you, I am well pleased.”

Again, it’s a personal voice, but it isn’t a private one, whispered in only Jesus’ ear. It is not a note that God passed to the back of the class, only for Jesus to read. It’s a public epiphany.

There’s still a lot about Jesus that will be a mystery to people, his close friends and family included. People will still be asking lots of questions and misunderstanding Jesus ’motives and strategy.

But in Jesus’ baptism, God’s love and God’s pleasure are clear. In us, God’s love and pleasure are clear. God’s voice fell on ALL who were baptized.

It’s perhaps easier for us to believe God would find Jesus beloved and find pleasure in Jesus. Because Jesus walks on water, heals people, and all that.

The first part of this passage, when Luke has John call everyone baby vipers and warn them about the wrath to come—that’s the obvious news to us. We know we’re disasters most days. We get that we need to do better, even if we’re still asking questions about how to do that.

The epiphany of Jesus’ baptism, is that we, too, are God’s beloved children. We are as God made us—imperfect, flawed, joyful, clever, stubborn, generous, kind, and selfish. With us, God is well pleased.

There’s a circular nature to this story. We work on repentance and getting things right so that we’ll be in the right place when God’s voice rips the heavens apart and announces the good news. AND because we’ve heard God’s voice declaring us beloved, we ask what we should then do, and go about the work of repentance.

It’s not cause and effect. We don’t do good work so God will love us. We do good work because we are God’s beloved children and God is primarily about love, with a side dish of being well pleased.

Imagine the world we could create if we started living as if we were God’s beloved children in whom God is well pleased. Imagine a world where we started treating God’s other beloved children as if they, too, were God’s beloved children, in whom God is also well pleased. Imagine what can yet be revealed to a world in desperate need of God’s love.

So, Calvary, what then should we do?

We already have some answers to that. We walk with refugees as they navigate new life in a different country. We feed people. We support mission partners. We advocate for policy that respects the dignity of all of our neighbors. We gather in community to worship and grow together in faith.

So, Calvary, what then should we do? It’s a real question that I hope we’ll answer together. How do we respond to the grace of the God who loves and calls us, both as individuals and as a congregation? Let us live into our identity as God’s beloved children.

Sermon 01.05.2025: Light After Darkness

Sun, 05 Jan 2025 23:22:05 GMT

When it is dark outside, your eyes adjust to the dark and shadows, even if you can't see quite as well as you would by day. But if someone shines a bright light at you when you're used to the dark, it takes a while to adjust to the light.

What was it like for people to adjust to the light of the world after growing accustomed to the shadows? Join us as we celebrate Epiphany, which is the day the church marks the arrival of the magi to see Jesus. On this day, we’ll receive our star words in worship when we come forward for communion. Each star has a word written on it that can be a prayer prompt for you in the coming year. Start the new year with Epiphany at Calvary.

Scripture

Isaiah 60:1-3, 19-22

Arise, shine; for your light has come,

and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you.

For darkness shall cover the earth,

and thick darkness the peoples; but the Lord will arise upon you,

and his glory will appear over you.

Nations shall come to your light,

and kings to the brightness of your dawn.

The sun shall no longer be

your light by day,

nor for brightness shall the moon

give light to you by night;

but the Lord will be your everlasting light,

and your God will be your glory.

Your sun shall no more go down,

or your moon withdraw itself;

for the Lord will be your everlasting light,

and your days of mourning shall be ended.

Your people shall all be righteous;

they shall possess the land for ever.

They are the shoot that I planted, the work of my hands,

so that I might be glorified.

The least of them shall become a clan,

and the smallest one a mighty nation;

I am the Lord;

in its time I will accomplish it quickly.

Luke 2:41-52

41 Now every year his parents went to Jerusalem for the festival of the Passover. 42 And when he was twelve years old, they went up as usual for the festival. 43 When the festival was ended and they started to return, the boy Jesus stayed behind in Jerusalem, but his parents did not know it. 44 Assuming that he was in the group of travellers, they went a day’s journey. Then they started to look for him among their relatives and friends. 45 When they did not find him, they returned to Jerusalem to search for him. 46 After three days they found him in the temple, sitting among the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions. 47 And all who heard him were amazed at his understanding and his answers. 48 When his parents* saw him they were astonished; and his mother said to him, ‘Child, why have you treated us like this? Look, your father and I have been searching for you in great anxiety.’ 49 He said to them, ‘Why were you searching for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?’* 50 But they did not understand what he said to them. 51 Then he went down with them and came to Nazareth, and was obedient to them. His mother treasured all these things in her heart.

52 And Jesus increased in wisdom and in years,* and in divine and human favor.

Sermon

This is one of the few stories of young Jesus that make it into the gospel accounts. And it is every parent’s nightmare. Losing your child. I can well imagine Mary’s panic when she realized that Jesus wasn’t with their other family and friends, elsewhere in the caravan.

Jerusalem for the Festival of Passover was a busy place. People from all corners of the world, coming ‘home’ to the holy city to celebrate holy days, even if it wasn’t their home, even if they didn’t know the streets and neighborhoods as well as they did of their own hometowns. It would be easy to be lost and hard to be found.

Passover is the holiday that marks the deliverance of God’s people out of the hand of Pharaoh. And I bet she appreciated the need for deliverance even more once her son went missing.

And I don’t know what you would think your life would be like as the mother of God, but I suspect you wouldn’t expect to have a child who would wander off like that. Is it too much to ask young God to be well behaved?

Yes, in fact, that is too much to ask. No matter God’s age, God doesn’t behave. God does what God will, and not what we will. The God who created the universe and then chose a small, scrappy people in a forgotten corner of the world to be the people of God—that’s a God who doesn’t follow our script.

The God who continues to work through deeply ordinary people, the God who sends the angels to shepherds instead of kings when announcing the birth of God, the God who asks an unmarried teenager to bear the divine life, the God who chose to be born to a family who would be refugees at the whim of tyrants—that’s a God who doesn’t follow our script.

Even the story of the Passover is not one we could have written on our own. God heard the cries of God’s people and delivered them out of slavery in Egypt by parting the waters of the Reed Sea, causing the waters to crash back down where waters belong, when the Egyptian chariots and horses and soldiers were giving chase.

At every turn in scripture, God will do what God will do, and not what we would do.

And when we’re shocked that 12-year-old Jesus wanders off and leaves the family caravan, we’re reminded that we keep forgetting that God’s ways are not our ways.

I can only imagine how Mary felt when they finally found him, in the temple, sitting with the teachers and asking good questions. The relief that he was safe, and the pride that everyone was impressed with his smarts, quickly gave way to “child, how could you do this to us? You really had us worried when you disappeared.”

And then Jesus says the wrong thing to his mother who loves him and just wants him to be safe. “Why were you searching for me? Shouldn’t you have known I would be here in my Father’s house?”

Jesus, no.

Because Luke wants us to think highly of Mary, he doesn’t record what she said in response to that answer from Jesus. Luke tells us they didn’t understand. And that Mary treasured all these things in her heart. Similar to Christmas Eve, when she ponders these things in her heart, this young God gives Mary a lot to think about, but the place to hold those thoughts is in her heart, not just in her brain.

God’s actions need our heart, soul, and mind to make any sense of. They need some pondering and some treasuring.

As I mentioned at the start of worship, today is Epiphany, the day the church marks the arrival of the magi who followed the star to Jesus. We heard part of that story from Matthew’s gospel last week.

I was in Hawaii this past week, and we spent a lot of time looking at the night sky. You could see the milky way, and so many constellations were easy to discern. Saturn, Venus, and Neptune were also visible in the night sky, and I know that because I downloaded an app that pointed it all out.

The reason the stars and planets and galaxies were easy to see in Hawaii is because we were ‘people who walked in darkness’ as Isaiah wrote. The night sky is dark in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. You can navigate the seas by following those stars. Well, I couldn’t, but someone could. People do.

Isaiah also goes on to say that the people who walked in darkness have seen a great light. On them light has shined.

Which means they could no longer navigate by the stars they were used to seeing. When you’re a people who walk in darkness, you figure out how to get around in the dark. But when the light shines on you, it changes what you can see.

When we were standing on the beach, looking up at the night sky, if big flood lights had turned on, the stars would have turned off for us.

As I was thinking of this story from Luke’s gospel, I was struck by how disorienting it is for us when God’s light shines.

The sun shall no longer be

your light by day,

nor for brightness shall the moon

give light to you by night;

but the Lord will be your everlasting light,

and your God will be your glory.

Your sun shall no more go down,

or your moon withdraw itself;

for the Lord will be your everlasting light,

Are we willing to let God be our everlasting light, to give up the ways we’ve learned to stumble around in the dark, to give up the constellations we’ve used to chart a course so we can instead follow God’s everlasting light?

The answer seems like it should be easy.

Yes, of course, I want to follow God’s everlasting light. I’m tired of the darkness I see in the world around me, and the celebration of greed and cruelty. I’m tired of the darkness of violence, and the glorification of power.

Of course I want to follow God’s everlasting light.

But I’m so used to stumbling around in the dark.

In CS Lewis’ final book in the Narnia series, The Last Battle, one scene that always stays with me is the dwarves. They’d fought against Aslan, the good lion, because they had followed so many false Aslans that they were done trusting in him. And at the end, they were in paradise, where war had ended and light was shining, and they refused to see it. They kept insisting they were imprisoned in a stable, dark and smelling of manure.

Even Aslan himself tried to convince the dwarves that they were free, but to no avail.

“Starting a new lie! Trying to make us believe we’re none of us shut up, and it ain’t dark, and heaven knows what,” the dwarfs said.

They later insisted Aslan wasn’t really there: “Don’t take any notice! They won’t take us in again.”

“They will not let us help them,” Aslan explained. “They have chosen cunning instead of belief. Their prison is only in their own mind, yet they are in that prison, and so afraid of being taken in that they cannot be taken out.”

I want to be able to see God’s light when it shines. I don’t want to continue to think the darkness is the place to stumble around. I don’t want to choose my own cunning instead of belief.

This is another one of those moments that call for our heart and soul as well as our mind, as when Mary treasured those things in her heart. To follow God’s everlasting light requires us to let go and to trust. To let go of our need to chart our course by our own stars and to trust that God’s star will get us where we truly want to go.

We’ll receive our Star words in a few minutes, when we come forward for communion. If you’re following online, make a comment, and we’ll draw a star for you after worship. My word this past year was “surrender”, which felt a little cruel for someone who has control issues. But it continues to teach me.

I can choose my own cunning instead of belief, like the dwarves, or I can let go of my own script and see where God might take me.

May I have the courage to surrender, and to let God’s light be what guides my work, trusting that there is more available to us than the darkness of the world.

President Jimmy Carter died this past week, at the age of 100. And no matter what you thought of his presidency, it is hard to fault the way he lived his life. He and his wife built close to 4,400 houses for Habitat for Humanity. He taught a bible study each week at his church in Plains, Georgia. He volunteered around the globe for fair elections, for health programs. He brokered peace deals.

He once said, “I have one life and one chance to make it count for something. I’m free to choose that something. That something—the something that I’ve chosen—is my faith. My faith demands that I do whatever I can, wherever I can, whenever I can, for as long as I can with whatever I have, to try to make a difference.”

May he rest in peace, surrounded by the light perpetual that he kept following.

God provides the light. We don’t have to manufacture it ourselves. We get to reflect it to the world, and allow it to shine through us. Remember that when the darkness feels overwhelming and oppressive. God provides the light. We let it shine through us.

John Bunyan put it well in Pilgrim’s Progress:

“And I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year, “Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown.” He replied, “Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the hand of God. That shall be to you better than a light and safer than the known way.”

Amen.

Sermon 12.29.2024: Walk Like an Egyptian

Thu, 02 Jan 2025 02:31:23 GMT

Jesus was a refugee. When King Herod's regime became murderous, Joseph fled to Egypt with Mary and the baby Jesus. The story of our faith is—and always has been—about standing with the vulnerable and providing sanctuary.

Scripture

Matthew 2:13-23

Now after [the Magi] had left, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, ‘Get up, take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there until I tell you; for Herod is about to search for the child, to destroy him.’ Then Joseph got up, took the child and his mother by night, and went to Egypt, and remained there until the death of Herod. This was to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet, ‘Out of Egypt I have called my son.’

‘A voice was heard in Ramah,

wailing and loud lamentation,

Rachel weeping for her children;

she refused to be consoled, because they are no more.’

When Herod died, an angel of the Lord suddenly appeared in a dream to Joseph in Egypt and said, ‘Get up, take the child and his mother, and go to the land of Israel, for those who were seeking the child’s life are dead.’ Then Joseph got up, took the child and his mother, and went to the land of Israel. But when he heard that Archelaus was ruling over Judea in place of his father Herod, he was afraid to go there. And after being warned in a dream, he went away to the district of Galilee. There he made his home in a town called Nazareth, so that what had been spoken through the prophets might be fulfilled, ‘He will be called a Nazorean.’

Sermon

Freedom Incarnate

Matthew 2:13-23

Now after [the wise men] left, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, ‘Get up, take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there until I tell you; for Herod is about to search for the child, to destroy him. ’Then Joseph got up, took the child and [Mary] by night, and went to Egypt, and remained there until the death of Herod. This was to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet [Hosea], ‘Out of Egypt I have called my son.’ When Herod saw that he had been tricked by the wise men, he was infuriated, and [Herod] sent and killed all the children in and around Bethlehem who were two years old or under, according to the time that he had learned from the wise men. Then was fulfilled what had been spoken through the prophet Jeremiah:

‘A voice was heard in Ramah [1] ,

wailing and loud lamentation,

Rachel [2] weeping for her children;

she refused to be consoled,

because they are no more.’

When Herod died, an angel of the Lord suddenly appeared in a dream to Joseph in Egypt and said, ‘Get up, take the child and his mother, and go to the land of Israel, for those who were seeking the child’s life are dead. ’Then Joseph got up, took the child and his mother, and went to the land of Israel. But when he heard that Archelaus was ruling over Judea in place of his father Herod, he was afraid to go there. And after being warned in a dream, he went away to the district of Galilee. There he made his home in a town called Nazareth, so that what had been spoken through the prophets might be fulfilled, ‘He will be called a Nazorean. [3] ’

—-

Dreams

Today, we’ll explore how the Holy Family fled to an alien land seeking refuge, all because of a dream. Paul McCartney went around for a month asking his friends if they’d ever heard the song “Yesterday” after he had dreamed it. He said it was like finding something that he needed to turn in to the police. Eventually, he accepted it as a gift. Never ignore your dreams. Niels Bohr dreamed about the structure of atoms before formulating his quantum theory in real life. (There’s quantum poetry in that.) Einstein dreamed he was sledding down a mountain super fast, and the theory of relativity was on the way to this world, at the speed of light. You’ve had dreams too meaningful to ignore. I have sometimes woken up laughing. I love those dreams. They are too rare. We tend to rationalize the mystery out of our dreams, and they fade away, unrealized. What if we were to let our dreams live in us a little longer, and take on shape and form this world? If the image of God is within each one of us, the answers to our problems are within us, too. Can God still get through to us in dreams?

God With Us

Truman Capote recounts A Christmas Memory from his childhood. He companions an old woman he calls “my friend.” She moves in a kind of dreamworld. Lying in a frosty December meadow in rural Alabama, she prophesies “in a tone of discovery, smiling…at a point beyond…” saying:

“I’ve always thought a body would have to be sick and dying before they saw the Lord. And I imagined that when he came, it would be like looking at the Baptist window: pretty as colored glass with the sun pouring through, such a shine you don’t know it’s getting dark. And it’s been a comfort: to think of that shine taking away all the spooky feeling. But I’ll wager it never happens. I’ll wager at the very end a body realizes the Lord has already shown Himself. That things as they are"—her hand circles in a gesture that gathers clouds… and grass…—“just what they've always seen, was seeing [Jesus]…I could leave the world with today in my eyes.” [4]

In Matthew’s version of the Good News, the good guys listen to their dreams. In dreams, Joseph is reassured that Mary’s child was conceived by the Holy Spirit. In dreams, the Magi are told to dupe King Herod. Later on, during Jesus’ final days, Pontius Pilate’s wife is troubled by her dreams and begs Pilate: “Have nothing to do with that innocent man.” (27:19) Good people are open to dreams.

Messianic Identity

Matthew’s gospel is careful to connect the story of Jesus to the sacred stories of the Torah and prophets. For example, baby Jesus finds refuge in Egypt like baby Moses. Then, like Moses, Jesus is called “out of Egypt.” Weeping Rachel in this passage refers to Jacob’s second wife, mother of tribal fathers Benjamin and (the original) Joseph, of amazing dreamcoat fame. Remember how Joseph’s brothers tried to kill him because he wore flamboyant clothing, but Joseph found asylum in Egypt, and work. These details witness to Jesus as Messiah—in Greek: Christ—in English: Savior—the Anointed One who comes to free the people.

Liberator

I’m currently reading Timothy Snyder’s new book, On Freedom . Snyder examines recent history through philosophy and theology, while wrestling with one central question: What is freedom? King Herod served the Empire, the source of negative freedom, what Timothy Snyder would call “unfreedom”—the freedom to survive while submitting to the whims of self-absorbed despots. Life requires more than negative freedom.

True freedom is the undoing of empire.

The Scourge of the Herod Consciousness

Desperate to subvert the Messiah, Herod orders his “men of might” [5] to kill every baby in and around Bethlehem. Heeding separate dreams, the Three Wise Men and Joseph undermine Herod the Great’s plans. Let them inspire us to resist all of the “Whoever" the Greats to come.

Herod was not unlike some of our leaders today, immoral and vulgar. He had a thing for his stepdaughter, Salome. He executed John the Baptist to please her. He killed babies. He was an agent of evil. But preacher, aren’t you Rev. Judgmental Self-McRigheousness today! Somebody might misunderstand. Shouldn’t we love tyrants and pray for them? What would Jesus do? Well, someone in Calvary’s online congregation supplied me with these words from Quaker pastor Philip Gulley, who wonders:

How come no one ever mentions that Jesus had not one good word to say about Herod? Not one good word. I ’ve looked. … Were we to follow the example of Jesus, we would notice the Light-swallowing qualities of [our Herods] and speak against [them]. Were we to follow the example of Jesus, we would point out [their] never-ending tendency to defile all that is honorable, good, and true, and we would raise our voices in objection. [6]

As Pastor Marci says, Jesus is not a pushover.

Freedom

There will always be a Herod who tries to douse the Light. Their rule, fraught with violence and chaos, will end. And, like Herod, when they are gone—and they will go—the Light will shine a little less-hindered. In the meantime, remember that we are creatures borne of a Light nothing can overcome. The birth of Jesus changes everything. God has torn open the heavens and now inhabits human flesh. Emmanuel, God with us, God inhabits us. The miracle of Incarnation is our shot at freedom. If that is too weird for you, translate it into secular words, like Snyder does. How you arrive at true freedom doesn’t matter; God will meet you there.

Realizing Goodness

Among Snyder’s many statements on freedom, this one is my current favorite. “Freedom is the state in which we can affirm what we think is good and bring it into the world.” [7] What is good, you’re wondering. “God has told you, O mortal, what is good, and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice and to love kindness and to walk humbly with your God?” (Micah 6:8) Belief is a solid step one. Christianity is more than a membership, it’s more than what we are. Christianity is what we do, an imperative verb that commands us to love God, and love our neighbor as you love ourselves. As the New Year approaches, may I remind you that purchasing a gym membership does not equal actually working out. Likewise, Christianity works if you work it.

Bringing Good Into the World

If you don’t have time to work your faith, let’s resolve to make the time in the New Year. Remember the parable of the Good Samaritan? Only the Samaritan, unlike the pious passersby, takes the time to act upon their convictions. That Samaritan was probably weighed down by life as much as we are, but none of us are entirely weighed down. Donna Schaper writes: “Our bodies are subject to inertia, but we can choose to stop by the side of the road. Our bodies are pulled down by gravity, but we can raise someone else up from the ditch.” [8] In Jesus’ most famous parable, only the Samaritan—the alien, the outsider—is free.

Doing Justice

Now I will brag on you. About six weeks ago, Calvary’s Racial Equity Initiative group hosted a simulation of what it's like to be released, “set free” from prison.

What we participants experienced was negative freedom—freedom from incarceration. We were not free enough to live. We were still captives but now to an willfully-dysfunctional system. Here’s your bus ticket, but when you get there, your parole officer is out today, and she was going to recommend a job for you. You didn’t think to get a transfer, and without another ticket, you have to walk 3 miles to sell your plasma. With that money, do you buy food for your family, medication for your dying mother, or avoid arrest for not paying restitution to the court? Negative freedom is not freedom. Freedom is the state of knowing what is good and bringing that goodness into being.

Loving Kindness

Much of the Bible is the story of immigrants, told by immigrants, for immigrants. [9] Through Calvary’s sanctuary ministry, many of you accompany immigrants to ICE check-ins, court appearances, the DMV, grocery and appliance shopping. Why would a church draw on itself such a target for the haters in this day and age? Because the moment Joseph heeded the angel’s warning, our Lord and Savior became a refugee. A picture of the Holy Refugee Family hangs on the front of this church.

Walking Humbly With God

Our next president successfully campaigned on ending the restrictions that keep ICE officers from entering hospitals, schools and churches, weddings and funerals, and he promises the largest mass deportation in history. Methodist pastor Sean Anglin writes:

Maybe we do want ICE to show up in hospital maternity wards as a mother gives birth. Maybe we do want ICE officers blending into the line at school drop-offs. Maybe we do want them standing in the church narthex, waiting for the benediction… before pushing through [the congregation] looking for their intended “target.”

But Calvary is a Matthew 25 congregation, and Anglin reminds us that’s where:

Jesus said, “Whatsoever you do to the least, you do unto me.” So, if you want a personal relationship with Jesus, then have a personal relationship with the poor…With the immigrant… Then, you will know something about Jesus and yourself. It is humbling, and it is intended to be that way. To get our politics out of our hearts and minds and to [make real] our common humanity front and center. [10]

Then we will be free. Amen.

1 Some think that Rachel is buried at Ramah.

2 Jacob’s second wife, one of the mothers of the 12 tribes, specifically Joseph and Benjamin

3 There is no accepted interpretation of this verse that ends Matthew’s birth narrative. The prophets did not say “he will be called a Narorean (Nazarene).”

4 from “A Christmas Memory” by Truman Capote, Mademoiselle Magazine, December 1956.

5 The Coventry Carol <https://youtu.be/5IiR_UvQqt0?si=Ovxfnd4hL4F114gm> was sung just before this sermon. Verse two: “Herod the King in his raging charged he had this day | his men of might in his own sight | all young children to slay.”

6 < https://philipgulley.substack.com/p/our-task-is-clear> Thank you to Dr. Robin Aladeen.

7 Snyder, Timothy. On Freedom (p. 81). Crown. Kindle Edition.

8 Ibid.

9 Donna Schaper, The Mess in Messiah, 2024 Advent Devotional Booklet, United Church of Christ.

10 < https://www.msnbc.com/opinion/msnbc-opinion/trump-ice-deportation-churches-rcna183888> Thank you to Laine Clifford.

Sermon 12.24.2024: Some Lady Holding A Baby

Tue, 24 Dec 2024 18:42:32 GMT

We celebrate Jesus' birth at the darkest point of our year, right after the winter solstice as the days slowly start to lengthen. This is the night we gather in the twilight and light candles, as a reminder that Jesus' birth was a light for people in the metaphorical gloom of occupation and war.

Scripture

Luke 2:1-7

The Birth of Jesus

In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. All went to their own towns to be registered. Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David. He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.

Luke 2:8-20

The Shepherds and the Angels

In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, ‘Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, who is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.’ And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying,

‘Glory to God in the highest heaven,
and on earth peace among those whom he favours!’

When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, ‘Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.’ So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger.When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child; and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them. But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart. The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them.

Sermon

Here’s a true story that happened to a friend of mine many years ago. She was in line to buy stamps.

Customer: “Do you have Christmas stamps?”

Clerk: “No. We just have Liberty Bell and some lady holding a baby.”

Customer: “Can I see them? That’s Mary holding Jesus. I’ll take those.”

At which point the Clerk says, “How did they get a picture of them?”

Customer looks back at my friend to keep from laughing, and so my friend chimes in with, “I bet it’s someone’s interpretation of what they may have looked like.”

Clerk: “Maybe. ’Cause I don’t think anyone took pictures back then.”

(Thanks to Ashley-Anne Masters for sharing that true story!)

Yes, the story is jarring. Especially for me, who spends my days talking about Jesus professionally. I don’t presume that everyone shares my religious views, but it is always startling to me when people don’t even recognize Jesus, even if he is only an image on a postage stamp.

The stamp in question was from a painting by Raphael called “Madonna of the Candelabra.”

And if you didn’t recognize the circles around their heads are halos, you can imagine how someone might not know that was Jesus and Mary. Raphael painted them pretty blond with fair complexions, and they don’t look like the Palestinian Jews they were.

It is just some lady holding a baby.

If we look at the story of his birth as told by Luke, perhaps we ought to be surprised that anyone recognized him as the Messiah in this story.

Because he was just a baby.

And when you’re looking for a savior, I suspect you look for an adult.

Don’t you?

Because what’s a baby going to do for you?

Now, don’t get me wrong. I love babies. They are cute. I love to hold them while they sleep. The world is ever more peaceful while a baby sleeps.

But babies don’t lead armies. Babies don’t topple oppressive Roman governments. Babies can’t even pray for you, which is what they were expecting from their Messiah.

What’s a baby going to do for you?

I was at a Warriors game last week, and during a time out, they played the song from the Lion King where Rafiki holds up the baby Simba, and the camera guys panned through the crowds, looking for babies, and their parents would dutifully lift up the babies just like they did in the Lion King. It was a crowd pleaser. We love babies.

But even if you lift up a baby while iconic Lion King music is playing—what’s a baby going to do for you?

Imagine Mary.

My youngest son’s birthday is just a few weeks after Christmas, so I remember being “great with child” and hearing the Christmas story. I remember thinking, “No way. Not going to Bethlehem. You go get registered, Joseph. I’m nesting.”

I remember thinking, “She had to give birth wherever she could find space? Are you kidding me? They couldn’t find a room anywhere??”

My pregnant reaction to the Christmas Story might be reason 832 why God didn’t choose me to be the mother of our Lord and Savior.

In any case, Mary gives birth under circumstances that make me twitch. And no matter how well the labor went, we know it was painful, and exhausting, and messy, and human.

And so she’s found a quiet place, if not a hospital room, and she’s laid her baby in an animal’s feeding trough, and she’s resting. Pondering how human the Son of God is, perhaps.

And then the shepherds show up.

Just who every mother wants to have visit after her baby has been born, right? Strangers who live on the hillside, tending their flocks by night? I guess they are better guests than a drummer boy, parumpapumpum, but barely.

And the shepherds find some lady holding a baby and they tell a strange story, an unbelievable story really, about a visitation by the heavenly host. But Mary, who has had her own visit from an angel, knows enough to believe them. And she hears them talk about the arrival of the Messiah, the Savior, the Lord.

Regardless of what she’d been told by the angel, I wonder if Mary thought, “Who are they talking about? Can’t they see he’s just a baby? He can’t go out and save the world right now! He’s just a baby. He can’t feed himself. He can’t even lift his head. He may be the Messiah someday, but he’s just a baby right now.”

And, of course, it is hard for us to hear this story of a baby laid in a manger without knowing who he will grow up to be.

We know he will perform miracles.

We know he will heal people.

We know he will speak truth to power and seek justice for the oppressed.

We know he will defeat even death itself by dying on a cross.

But all of this is just a promise on Christmas Eve.

The angels announce the birth of a child .

The shepherds come to worship a baby .

And this 8-pound baby Jesus in his golden fleece diaper is worth our remembering. What does it mean that God would choose this vulnerability?

What does it mean for us that God would choose to become human in this way?

God could have done it differently. Jesus could have just descended from the sky and announced the year of our Lord’s favor with a laser light show and pyrotechnics. God did not do that.

God could have declared the Roman Emperor, or even the President of the United States, as the Messiah. God did not do that.

The creator of the universe could have written the script any way they chose. And God chose to be born to a teen mother from a modest family with a royal pedigree, in a territory under Roman occupation. God chose to be born to a vulnerable family, at risk from the whims of vain and insecure men with political power.

As you navigate struggles and trials when they show up in your life, I hope you’ll remember that God knows what it is like to experience the challenges of being human. There is nothing in our human experience that God has not also experienced.

In his book, Christ: A Crisis in the Life of God , Jack Miles writes: “That God should have begun his human life as an infant is compelling…because although all men (People) are different, babies are all alike. Full participation in the human condition requires a beginning in the leveling anonymity of infancy.” (p 86)

This is an important reminder to us at this time of year. Because while we all start off this earthly journey as babies—all alike in our cute helplessness—we, as adults, are all very different. And our differences often lead to disagreements, fights, and discord. So, as you consider the baby Jesus in the manger, remember that the differences between us as adults are secondary.

Whether our mothers laid us in a manger or in a state-of-the-art crib, we all started our journey in a similar manner—helpless, defenseless, not in control of our economic or family situation, and in need of protection and care.

How can we seek that understanding of each other? How can we remember that commonality we all share? How can we remember, in a new way, that we are all children of God, that we were all infants like God?

Scott Erickson says this about God becoming a baby:

Just like every human ever, at some moment Jesus sought a friend or a mom or a little sister for humor, compassion, nourishment, relatability, enjoyment. For belly laughs, hugs, inside jokes, maybe even high fives. That’s the way being fully human works.

Did He not receive nourishment as a baby?

Did He not live in a house that His parents provided?

Did He not wear clothes that others had meticulously woven?

Did He not learn to read from attentive teachers?

Did He not learn a trade so He could make a living?

Did He not join His voice to the chorus of singing?

Did He not know the joy of having friends?

Jesus’ incarnation is participating in the same dynamics we all participate in . . .

Which is no one who is fully human is an island... and WE NEED EACH OTHER TO BE FULLY HUMAN.

It’s easy to think of us as needing Jesus, but its pretty scandalous to think that Jesus would need us . . .

I invite you, as you celebrate the birth of a baby this night, to remember how much support we all need, how much support we are called to give each other.

Whether it is some lady holding a baby on the postage stamp, or some lady with a fussy baby here in the sanctuary, or some lady with a baby trying to get her stroller and bags on a MUNI bus, or two dads with a baby, or some lady holding a baby in the discomfort of a refugee camp, as they seek a chance at life in a safer country than the one they are fleeing, or some lady with a baby under siege and facing famine in Gaza—any of these babies—all of these babies—remind us that God so loves the world that God chooses to be one of us.

Let us seek to build a world where all of God’s children are recognized as signs of hope and signs of God’s love. As Isaiah reminds us:

For a child has been born for us,

a son given to us;

This is the gift this night.

Thanks be to God. Amen

Sermon 12.22.2024: Comfort & Construction Projects

Sun, 22 Dec 2024 14:55:13 GMT

God promises to bring comfort to God's people. But the descriptions of valleys being lifted up and mountains brought low, sound uncomfortable to anyone who has survived a remodeling project. We'll look for the comfort in what God wants us to build.

Scripture

Isaiah 40:1-11

Comfort, O comfort my people,

says your God. 

Speak tenderly to Jerusalem,

and cry to her that she has served her term,

that her penalty is paid,

that she has received from the Lord’s hand

double for all her sins.

A voice cries out: 

‘In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord,

make straight in the desert a highway for our God. 

Every valley shall be lifted up,

and every mountain and hill be made low; 

the uneven ground shall become level,

and the rough places a plain. 

Then the glory of the Lord shall be revealed,

and all people shall see it together,

for the mouth of the Lord has spoken.’

A voice says, ‘Cry out!’

And I said, ‘What shall I cry?

’ All people are grass, their constancy is like the flower of the field

. The grass withers, the flower fades,

when the breath of the Lord blows upon it;

surely the people are grass.

Get you up to a high mountain,

O Zion, herald of good tidings;

 lift up your voice with strength,

O Jerusalem, herald of good tidings,

lift it up, do not fear; 

say to the cities of Judah, ‘Here is your God!’

 See, the Lord God comes with might,

and God's arm rules for him;

 God's reward is with him,

and God's recompense before him.

God will feed their flock like a shepherd;

the Lord will gather the lambs in her arms, 

and carry them in her bosom,

and gently lead the mother sheep.

The grass withers, the flower fades;

but the word of our God will stand for ever.

Sermon

This passage from the Book of Isaiah begins what is known as Isaiah’s Book of Consolation, also called Second Isaiah. The story told in the Book of Isaiah begins in 742 BCE, but by the time we get to chapter 40, scholars think we’re at least 100-150 years down the road.

At the end of chapter 39, we’re told, “Days are coming when all that is in your house, and that which your ancestors have stored up until this day, shall be carried to Babylon; nothing shall be left, says the Lord.”

But as chapter 40 begins, that exile is ending, the penalty is paid, and people are to prepare to return home. It’s hard to say exactly how much time has passed, but more than one would expect between chapter 39 and a chapter 40 in a book.

This is the chapter that is quoted when the gospel accounts introduce John the Baptist. We often hear of John the Baptist during Advent. This year, we’ll instead read about him in January, but here’s what Luke’s gospel, chapter 3, says to introduce John:

as it is written in the book of the words of the prophet Isaiah, “The voice of one crying out in the wilderness: Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight. 5 Every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill shall be made low, and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough ways made smooth; 6 and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.’”

The gospel writers describe John as the embodiment of Isaiah’ prophecy, the messenger to prepare the way of Jesus.

But the author of Isaiah didn’t know about John the Baptizer or about Jesus. He was writing to people in his own time, people facing their own dislocation. People who had been carted off to Babylon, collateral damage of the policies of unfaithful and unjust kings. People who needed a literal highway to walk as they returned from exile.

For some of us, perhaps the anxiety in our world has kept us from identifying with the word “comfort” for a while now. Job stress, family instability, disease, pandemic disruptions, money worries, or other factors can make you forget what “comfort” is like.

For some of us though, the comfort of our lives can also get in the way of our ability to hear a dislocating and challenging message from God.

I theoretically want the valleys lifted up and the hills brought low, except for when I think about how much that might inconvenience me, because I’ve lived through road construction projects and I know what they entail. Do I really want the valleys lifted and the hills brought low when I can navigate the hills and valleys pretty easily most days? I have financial resources, a career I love, and more privilege than I can count because I’m white, heterosexual, and married to a doctor.

I mention this because it is worth remembering that we are all occupying different lived realities. We gather together each week as one community, and we are a community with different racial identities, citizenship status, gender identity, sexual orientation, political affiliation, income, housing, an employment status.

It is rare in a world being ever more divided and entrenched along fault lines of politics, culture, etc. to gather together each week together. And while we hope the things that bring us together are stronger than the things that divide, I hope we also can be gentle with each other and with ourselves when we find ourselves in different parts of the biblical stories.

It’s worth considering who God is intending to offer comfort in this passage, and in our world. And are our building projects for the comfort of the already comfortable, or are we preparing the way so that all of God’s people will have an easier path to navigate the wilderness of the world?

Are we willing to be inconvenienced by construction projects if it will make the lives of our neighbors easier?

When Isaiah preaches God’s message of “comfort, comfort ye my people”, it is only comfort, it is only God’s liberation or salvation, if everyone is included in it. Are we able to include everyone in the things we do to bring comfort to God’s people? Comfort, comfort ye my people, is not intended to make kings on their thrones feel more comfortable than they already are. It is to remind kings on thrones that if they don’t offer comfort to their people, God will.

I was very uncomfortable watching people celebrate the murder of the insurance CEO a few weeks ago. God’s liberation is surely an intention that all people can have access to life saving healthcare. God’s liberation is also that they can safely enter a hotel in Manhattan, or go to school or anywhere else in public, without fear of gun violence. We cannot celebrate the death of one person. We cannot ignore the deaths of thousands.

Isaiah was speaking to a people in exile, offering comfort to a people who were facing real political troubles, reminding us that it is appropriate to see the political troubles of our world and respond to them with our faith.

That is one of the gifts of Scripture, to be able to reach across the years. A passage written by Isaiah as a response to a specific situation becomes the living word of God, hundreds of years later to 1st century Palestinians, and then again become the living word of God to us here in San Francisco in 2024, speaking specifically to our lives, our political realities, today.

We hear “speak tenderly to Jerusalem” and think of the Israeli and Palestinian people today—Jews, Muslims, and Christians— living in the midst of conflict, terror, and war. We continue to pray for an end to violence in Gaza and Lebanon, and a return of hostages, over a year after the conflict began.

Scripture is inherently political. We hope to keep it from being partisan. God’s word is bigger than any political party, or ideology, or national agenda. But the message of scripture isn’t received with equal comfort by all people.

Comfort ye. Comfort ye, my people,

One thing that gets obscured in this passage, perhaps because we equate it to John, singularly preparing a way, or we hear it sung as a solo in Handel’s Messiah, but “Comfort my people” in the Hebrew text is a plural imperative. “All y’all need to comfort my people”. It is not the work for one person. It is not an instruction to one person.

Scholars aren’t exactly sure why it is plural. One thought is that it is like other places in Scripture where the heavenly host is present. We see that in the book of Job, or in Psalms, or on Christmas Eve when the heavenly host scare the stuffing out of the shepherds on the hillside.

I think it is voiced in a plural imperative because it is a reminder that none of us are called do the work required by ourselves. Building the highway for God is not work that can be done alone in isolation from others.

I don’t know about you, but I do not think our society has been doing well with plural imperative living for a while, where people recognize the need to respond collectively for the good of others, to provide comfort. It got worse because of Covid, but our descent into isolating individualism began before 2020, and seems to be getting worse in the aftermath of the election in November.

It’s possible that those of us who gather for worship on a regular basis may be better equipped against the lure of lone ranger individualism than some.

We sing together and our individual voices become more than any one of them are on their own.

We volunteer and serve together and the help we give the community is magnified.

We give money together, which allows our individual gifts to combine with those of other people to make more of an impact in the community than any of us can do alone.

We worship together, and as Isaiah says:

Then the glory of the LORD shall be revealed,

and all people shall see it together.

In this season of Advent, in this mad dash to Christmas, I suspect we both need comfort, and we need the discomfort that comes with preparing the way for God. We are the preparers of the way and also the people for whom the way is prepared.

What does Isaiah say we need to do to prepare the way for the coming of our Lord?

The text is clear. We are called to comfort . We are called to prepare the way . We are called to use our voices and cry out about where God is at work in the world.

Isaiah tells the people to get up to a high mountain and lift up their voices with strength to proclaim, “HERE IS YOUR GOD!”

That is what we are to point out to people. We are to boldly and with confidence stand on the mountaintops and show people where we have seen God.

Where have you seen God? I invite you to be on the lookout for where God is at work in the world and in your life.

I’m thankful to hear that voice in Isaiah telling us to lift up our voices. And I’m thankful to have this community because your voices ‘cry out’ together for God better than any of our individual voices ever could, amplifying the message so people may know of a God who, as Isaiah says,

“will feed his flock like a shepherd;

he will gather the lambs in his arms,

and carry them in his bosom,

and gently lead the mother sheep.”

And as we work together to prepare the way for God, I hope that we’ll be able to go about it with love and great joy. I hope, like Isaiah, we can say to the cities of Judah—and San Francisco—“Here is your God!”

Comfort, oh comfort, my people. Prepare the way!

Thanks be to God. Amen. .

Sermon 12.15.2024: A Weary World Rejoices

Sun, 15 Dec 2024 03:19:15 GMT

Our theme for this Advent season is “Longing for Light.” We long for light because we are weary and tired of the long nights and brutally short days. So how does a weary world rejoice? Can we experience joy in the midst of all that is happening in the world and in our lives? The poet Toi Derricotte writes, “Joy is an act of resistance.” So joy is not frivolous; it is necessary. Let us find joy together in community as we await the birth of Christ.

Scripture

Isaiah 25:1-9

O Lord, you are my God;

I will exalt you, I will praise your name; for you have done wonderful things,

plans formed of old, faithful and sure.

For you have made the city a heap,

the fortified city a ruin; the palace of aliens is a city no more,

it will never be rebuilt.

Therefore strong peoples will glorify you;

cities of ruthless nations will fear you. For you have been a refuge to the poor,

a refuge to the needy in their distress,

a shelter from the rainstorm and a shade from the heat. When the blast of the ruthless was like a winter rainstorm,

the noise of aliens like heat in a dry place, you subdued the heat with the shade of clouds;

the song of the ruthless was stilled.

On this mountain the Lord of hosts will make for all peoples

a feast of rich food, a feast of well-matured wines, of rich food filled with marrow, of well-matured wines strained clear. And he will destroy on this mountain

the shroud that is cast over all peoples,

the sheet that is spread over all nations; he will swallow up death for ever. Then the Lord God will wipe away the tears from all faces,

and the disgrace of his people he will take away from all the earth,

for the Lord has spoken. 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.

Sermon

THIS ADVENT SEASON, WE HAVE BEEN PREACHING FROM THE BOOK OF ISAIAH. Marci has given us some context for this prophetic work, which was written during a large span of Israelite history as outside forces subjugated and ruled over them.

This means that there is historical context for which these words were written. Something specifically happened to spark Isaiah’s oracles and prophesies. But chapters 24 through 27 elude this specificity. In fact, today’s scripture, Chapter 25 is more like a psalm, praising God for saving the weak by sending judgment on the mighty oppressors.

These four chapters are often referred to as “Isaiah Apocalypse” because they are marked by a heavy dependence on the motifs often used by those writing apocalyptic literature, like Daniel and the book of Revelation.

It is actually quite difficult to root this chapter in any historical context. But what we do know is this: Israel was a small nation-state surrounded by larger, stronger, and mightier empires.

They were often the underdog and subject to the whims and caprices of other nations. So the threat of the “palace of aliens” referred to in verse 2 and “ruthless nations” in verse 3 was real. Outside forces taking over and destroying life as they knew it was not only possible, it happened.

But still, even in the midst of real fear and danger, the prophet Isaiah is able to dream of a world where God will “wipe away the tears from all faces,” and we can “be glad and rejoice.”

Joy in this season seems to be an expectation. Christmas songs insist that this is the “most wonderful time of the year,” the “hap-happiest season of all.” But is it, really?

I follow an Instagram account called “disappointing affirmations,” which is meant to be satirical and funny. And one of their recent posts said, “It’s okay to be sad. Just remember to pretend that you’re not. For others.”

And I laughed out loud because we all know it shouldn’t have to be true. And yet, there is this underlying agreement in society that we will all uphold this. We will pretend that we’re okay. We will show only our best selves. We will pull it together.

But joy, real joy, isn’t born of pretense. It isn’t a surface-level feeling. The kind of joy that our scripture talks about is more than just circumstantial or a fleeting feeling. Perhaps we would call that feeling “happiness.”

But the joy found in the Bible is more than that. It is a way of being in the world, a theological disposition that defies the powers of death and destruction.

And it is commitment, a choice we make, not in spite of all that is painful and broken in the world, but born with new life from it. Barbara Brown Taylor reminds us,“...new life starts in the dark. Whether it is a seed in the ground, a baby in the womb, or Jesus in the tomb, [new life] starts in the dark.”

So our joy is rooted in the beauty and mystery of darkness, as we stretch and hope and long for light.

If Isaiah could proclaim joy, in the midst of all his people experienced, then, perhaps, we, too, can proclaim joy.

Afterall, Toi Derricotte reminds us, that joy has implications we may not even consider. Because our joy is not just for us. “Joy is an act of resistance,” she writes.

Let me say that again, “Joy is an act of resistance,” a way we say “no” to the powers that be, a way we resist hatred and meanness and supremacy in all its forms. Your joy, our ability to rejoice, is an act of resistance.

If we can still laugh at ourselves and with one another, the powers and principalities that seek to demean and dehumanize have not won.

If we can smile at a toddler dancing to A Charlie Brown Christmas, allowing our hearts to warm, the powers and principalities that seek to demean and dehumanize have not won.

If we can sing portions of Handel’s Messiah, allowing our voices to rise with others and our hearts to swell with hope, the powers and principalities that seek to demean and dehumanize have not won.

Joy is not frivolous; it is necessary.

Cole Arthur Riley, author of Black Liturgies says this of joy: “We must reclaim joy outside of the artificial ‘cheer’ it is often reduced to. There is a joy that is defiant. A portal to survival for our ancestors. A way to say, we will not be captive to despair nor abandon our belief in beauty. Joy with teeth. Never complacent, always ready.”

Friends, that’s what we mean by joy is resistance.

So when is the last time you felt unabandoned joy? Think about that for a second. Maybe it’s been a while.

And I say unabandoned, because in its original Hebrew, the root of the word rejoice doesn’t just mean “to be glad and to exult,” but it also means to spin in circles, as in, you are so ecstatic, that you spin with joy. Imagine a child entering a winter wonderland and spinning with glee. There is a freedom and a sincerity in this joy.

I know that I personally like to hedge my joy. I’m a pessimist by design, so when I feel exuberance bubbling up, I often remind myself, “well, this could all fall apart and probably will.” And, to be frank, in my life, and likely yours, too, there have been examples of this being exactly the case, proving that we were right to be suspicious all along.

Most of us feel vulnerability – or even fear – when confronted with the possibility of joy. Brené Brown illuminates this paradox in her prolific writings. She observes that:

If you’re afraid to lean into good news, wonderful moments, and joy – if you find yourself waiting for the other shoe to drop – you are not alone. It’s called “foreboding joy,” and most of us experience it. ( Atlas of the Heart , 2021).

According to Brown, joy frightens us because it reminds us of what we have to lose. Joy floods and fills us when we feel deeply connected to the people, places, and experiences we value most. At the same time, joy carries an undercurrent of vulnerability that threatens our ability to soak up its benefits, because, did you know, resilience, strength, and courage flow from joy when we let them?

In her own words, Brene Brown asserts that:

In the midst of joy, there’s often a quiver, a shudder of vulnerability. Rather than using that as a warning sign to practice imagining the worst-case scenarios, the people who lean into joy use the quiver as a reminder to practice gratitude.

Gratitude, like hope and love, is a verb, and it is a muscle. When we practice gratitude, our capacity to feel it grows. And joy and gratitude build each other up. [1]

So what are you grateful for today? And how will you cultivate joy, knowing that it is part of the resistance?

I’ve been looking up ways to hack our brain chemistry because scientists say that that’s what it all boils down to: The ability to make and maintain dopamine, serotonin, oxytocin, and endorphins. And if you can’t make it yourself, storebought is okay. I’m a true believer in that whether it be meals or neurotransmitter; storebought is okay.

But before we knew all this science, perhaps our spiritual ancestors knew something about joy, too.

Today’s scripture reminds us that according to Isaiah, we rejoice because God is a refuge to the poor and to the needy in their distress.

We rejoice because God is a shelter from the rainstorm and a shade from the heat.

We rejoice because all peoples will feast on rich food and good, matured wines.

In other words, joy comes when all are sheltered, all have enough to eat, and those who are the most vulnerable in our society are cared for.

So, as we move through this holiday season into a new year, let us practice embracing joy. Not just for ourselves, but for the world.

For the sake of joy, we will advocate for more affordable housing, and we will seek ways to reduce homelessness in our city and communities.

For the sake of joy, we will continue to make lunches through pack-a-sack and feed those who are hungry. We will volunteer with the Interfaith Winter Shelter dinners.

We will advocate for just food prices, and for the end of food deserts.

For the sake of joy, we will walk with immigrants and refugees seeking asylum and safety here in the United States.

Last week, we got to witness one family’s joy as they were granted asylum with God’s help and the help of God’s people, many of you. Allow yourself to rejoice with them and hold onto that joy.

For in Advent, we proclaim that this is the Lord for whom we have waited; so let us be glad and rejoice.

Thanks be to God. Amen.

1 https://heartmindonline.org/resources/3-ways-to-boost-gratitude-and-unleash-your-joy-with-bren%C3%A9-browns-atlas-of-the-heart

Sermon 12.08.2024: Treasures of Darkness

Sun, 08 Dec 2024 21:58:37 GMT

In our culture, the 'good guy' rides the white horse, not the dark horse. We often equate darkness with evil or sin, and we see it play out in devastating ways when white skinned people are praised and dark skinned people are feared. And while there is lots of scriptural imagery about the power and goodness of light, there are also references to the gifts of darkness. While we long for light, let us look at the 'treasures of darkness' as Isaiah says.

Scripture

Isaiah 45:1-8

Thus says the Lord to his anointed, to Cyrus,

whose right hand I have grasped

to subdue nations before him

and strip kings of their robes,

to open doors before him—

and the gates shall not be closed:

2 I will go before you

and level the mountains,

I will break in pieces the doors of bronze

and cut through the bars of iron,

3 I will give you the treasures of darkness

and riches hidden in secret places,

so that you may know that it is I, the Lord,

the God of Israel, who call you by your name.

4 For the sake of my servant Jacob,

and Israel my chosen,

I call you by your name,

I surname you, though you do not know me.

5 I am the Lord, and there is no other;

besides me there is no god.

I arm you, though you do not know me,

6 so that they may know, from the rising of the sun

and from the west, that there is no one besides me;

I am the Lord, and there is no other.

7 I form light and create darkness,

I make weal and create woe;

I the Lord do all these things.

8 Shower, O heavens, from above,

and let the skies rain down righteousness;

let the earth open, that salvation may spring up,

and let it cause righteousness to sprout up also;

I the Lord have created it.

Sermon

Our theme for Advent is Longing for Light , a hymn you’re getting to know as we light the Advent candles. And the full line in the hymn is “longing for light, we wait in darkness.”

What is your relationship to the dark? I’ve had more than a few days since the time change, where I looked outside, saw how dark it was, and realized I should go to bed, only to look at my clock and see that it was 6:30pm.

Simon and Garfunkel sing, Hello Darkness, my old friend.

But how often do we see darkness as a friend?

I confess that at these, the darkest days of the year, I long for light. I don’t like the sun setting at 5pm.

I love taking vacations to bright and sunny places. They don’t even have to be warm. Some of you have heard me say before that my husband wants to go the most northest northern part of Norway in the dead of winter. I will not be joining him on that trip, but will look forward to hearing about it, when he calls me and I answer the phone from my beach chair in Hawaii.

Isaiah talks about treasures in darkness, and this passage calls us to re-think images of light and dark in our lives, and in Scripture.

To start with, when scripture mentions darkness and light, it is not referring to skin color. In our culture, we don’t always notice how darkness and light are used as measures of good and bad, often privileging people with lighter colored skin and telling people to fear people with darker skin tones. Our culture puts the good guy on a white horse and calls the bad guy the black sheep.

In scripture, images of light and dark are most often stand ins for the forces of good and evil. They are images that made a lot of sense to people who lived nomadic lives in the desert, without electricity, flashlight buttons on their iPhones, or motion detector flood lights outside their tent.

When it gets dark in the desert, predators wake up. You don’t wander around outside your home or tent. Even if the big bad beast doesn’t get you, you’d probably trip on a root you couldn’t see and break a hip. People hearing the biblical stories knew the danger of the dark.

On Christmas Eve, the reading from Isaiah also mentions light and dark:

The people who walked in darkness

have seen a great light;

those who lived in a land of deep darkness—

on them light has shined.

In the stories in scripture that mention light and dark, the dark never fully goes away when the light shines. The darkness remains. And I know that in the midst of the darkest time of the year, we’d like the darkness to just go away.

We’d like the bad guys to lose.

We’d like people to not get cancer and children not be shot at school.

We’d prefer scary diagnoses and illness would become extinct.

We want peace in our relationships and in our community.

We want billionaires to start paying taxes on their 4th yacht instead of blaming people on food stamps for our national budget deficits.

And if we’re being honest, we’d like God to show up in force and with great strength and bright sunlight that never sets.

God chose not to do that, however.

The people Isaiah was writing to, I think, would have agreed with us about wanting the bad guys to lose and for God to show up in force with bright light that never sets.

I mentioned last week that they were at the whims of greater global powers and experienced exile, destruction, and the loss of autonomy. They longed for a government that would represent them, not one that was working for their harm, in cahoots with an occupying force.

And for Isaiah, the light came through Cyrus, the Persian leader who defeated Babylon. Isaiah tells his people God will take Cyrus by the hand, and open the doors and gates for him, leveling any mountains in his way.

I will give you the treasures of darkness

and riches hidden in secret places,

so that you may know that it is I, the Lord,

the God of Israel, who call you by your name.

What are treasures of darkness for you?

This week, I was leading a retreat for some national church leaders in Arizona, up in the foothills outside of Scottsdale, and the treasure of darkness there was that I could see the stars, and a few planets. I trust the stars shine over us here in SF too, but I can see only a fraction of them from my window over the ever lit Van Ness Avenue.

Darkness also brings rest, and the older I get the more I know what a treasure it is to sleep deeply.

New life is nurtured in darkness too. Seeds grow in the darkness of the soil, and God knits us together in the dark of our mother’s wombs, as the psalmist says.

There is an expectant waiting in darkness, whether it is for new life to emerge, or for the sun to rise in the morning. And, as much as impatient me hates to admit this, there is treasure in the darkness of our waiting.

This is our work in Advent, expectant waiting.

We aren’t waiting in despair that nothing will change. We are waiting in hope— hope the action verb, not the feeling —that things will change, that unto us a child will be born. And anyone who has ever waited for the birth of a child knows that it involves impatience, discomfort, and a little worry alongside all of the hope that gets you through the pregnancy.

For Isaiah, the main treasure revealed in the darkness of our lives, and our world, is God. The rest of our passage today spells out, again and again, the nature of God:

I am the Lord, and there is no other;

besides me there is no god.

I arm you, though you do not know me,

so that they may know, from the rising of the sun

and from the west, that there is no one besides me;

I am the Lord, and there is no other.

I form light and create darkness,

I make weal and create woe;

I the Lord do all these things.

God is God in the morning sun. God is God in the dark of night, because God created them both and called them good. There is no place we could go where God is not the creator, the sustainer, the redeemer.

God doesn’t tell us how omnipotent and omnipresent they are just to impress us. Isaiah tells us God gives us treasures in darkness so that we will know it is God who calls us by name. This God who created the universe and put all the stars across our galaxy for us to see in the night sky—that same God calls us by name.

The God who invented bumble bees, hedgehogs, and golden doodles—that same God calls us by name.

You are known, loved, claimed, and called by God. By name.

So don’t ever sell yourself short, worried you have nothing to offer in a world with such big problems. You are known, loved, claimed, and called by God. God has called you by name. Live into your gifts and do what you can to share those gifts in the world.

Don’t ever dismiss another person because God has called them by name too. You’ll never meet a person who is not loved by God, no matter how hard they may try to confuse us about that.

Those trans kids that politicians are trying to use to score political points—they are known, loved, claimed and called by God. By name.

People risking their lives to cross borders for a chance to escape war, famine, or violence—they are known, loved, claimed, and called by God. By name. Our living sanctuary team is continuing to accompany people seeking sanctuary in this country. You’ll hear a little more about that later in worship. (Alex and Amy, the first family we started accompanying when we became a sanctuary congregation were with us in worship to celebrate that Amy and their kids had been granted asylum last week. Alex’s case is still on appeal, but this was very good news and there was a long and loud round of applause in worship).

I told a story at the start of worship about a time when I discovered treasures in a time of darkness and challenge. And I mentioned it was the people who cared for me, and accepted me, and loved me, at a time in my life when I felt unworthy of care, love, and acceptance.

God called me by name, and so did my church family, my actual family, my friends, the dean of students, the list is long. My prayer for us is that when we are in moments of darkness, we may hear God as they call our name, and that we might be that voice in the lives of others, bringing light.

Today, I invite you to meet someone new, by name. No, I implore, direct, and command you meet someone new, by name. Maybe it is someone you’ve seen across the sanctuary before but have never met. Maybe it is someone whose name you’ve maybe heard before but can’t remember. May we be treasures for each other in times of darkness. And let’s do so by name.

Amen.

Sermon 12.01.2024: Messengers of Peace

Sun, 01 Dec 2024 19:04:14 GMT

Our Advent theme is "Longing for light". The days are shorter, so we do miss actual sunlight at this time of the year. But the world seems darker, in metaphorical ways, too. The first Sunday of Advent we light a candle of peace, and we consider our call to be messengers of peace to a world that traffics in discord.

Scripture

Isaiah 52:1-10

Awake, awake,

put on your strength, O Zion! 

Put on your beautiful garments,

O Jerusalem, the holy city; for the uncircumcised and the unclean

shall enter you no more.

2 Shake yourself from the dust, rise up, O captive Jerusalem; 

loose the bonds from your neck,

O captive daughter Zion!

3 For thus says the Lord: You were sold for nothing, and you shall be redeemed without money.

4 For thus says the Lord God: Long ago, my people went down into Egypt to reside there as aliens; the Assyrian, too, has oppressed them without cause.

5 Now therefore, what am I doing here, says the Lord, seeing that my people are taken away without cause? Their rulers howl, says the Lord, and continually, all day long, my name is despised.

6 Therefore my people shall know my name; therefore on that day they shall know that it is I who speak; here am I.

7 How beautiful upon the mountains

are the feet of the messenger who announces peace, who brings good news,

who announces salvation,

who says to Zion, ‘Your God reigns.’

8 Listen! Your sentinels lift up their voices, together they sing for joy; for in plain sight they see

the return of the Lord to Zion.

 9 Break forth together into singing,

you ruins of Jerusalem; for the Lord has comforted his people,

God has redeemed Jerusalem. 

10 The Lord has bared his holy arm before the eyes of all the nations; and all the ends of the earth shall see the salvation of our God.

Sermon

This year we’ll be reading passages from the Book of Isaiah during Advent. Some of them may be familiar to you. Others may be new.

I invite you to hear them all with new ears, because they may not say what we have always heard them to say.

Handel used much of Isaiah for the libretto to his famous Messiah. Hope you can come to the Messiah singalong on Saturday! And the church, from the beginning of the church, has used Isaiah to make sense of who Jesus is. We hear Isaiah’s language of Messiah, or anointed one sent from God to save the people, and it makes sense that we think of Jesus as the Messiah. Because that is how the first followers of Jesus made sense of Jesus too. They read their holy scriptures and saw Jesus as the promised one from Isaiah. They incorporated Isaiah’s writings into their own, so it resonates there for the people who knew Isaiah’s writings.

That still happens today. When the musician Prince died, I wrote a sermon that had maybe 10 different quotes from Prince’s songs. The people my age who knew Prince’s music got the references. Most of the congregation did not, but the resonance to Prince’s music was in that sermon either way.

Likewise with Isaiah. It didn’t matter if all of the early followers of Jesus could quote or recognize Isaiah’s writings when they were incorporated into the gospels. It became a reference point for those who knew the words of the prophet.

And it is appropriate for us to do that, as long as we remember that Isaiah didn’t know about Jesus. Isaiah wasn’t Nostradamus, or a circus psychic, predicting future events with certainty. He was writing to his own people, speaking to their experience in their own time and context.

So we hear scripture and think about our context today, and we remember the context in which it was written and we trust the work of the Holy Spirit to bring the two together.

The nations of Israel and Judah in biblical times were never global powerhouses. They were, at best, small nation states with good relationships with their bigger neighbors. At worst, they were small nation states at war with each other, and at the mercy of bigger political battles, ever located right in the path of those bigger powers.

Isaiah lived in and wrote from Jerusalem in the 8th century BCE. Most scholars agree that most of the first 39 chapters were written by him. The latter part of the book has a different writing style and vocabulary and appears to be describing a different political reality.

When Isaiah was active, Assyria was the world power. Expanding westward from what we would today call Iraq, Assyria was disruptive, and subjugated Israel and Judah, but it was not terribly long lasting, as far as evil empires go.

They were quickly supplanted by Babylon. And Babylon caused real trouble. They destroyed temples and houses of worship in the lands they conquered. They took governmental and community leaders, poets, musicians, and artists, into exile in 586 BCE, so that the people who were left behind couldn’t rise up in rebellion. The language in Isaiah about exile is describing life under Babylon.

The third global power to dominate Israel and Judah in the time of Isaiah’s writings was Persia, and Persia treated the lands it subjugated differently from Babylon or Assyria. They allowed the exiles to return in 515 BCE, they allowed a modicum of self-rule, and they allowed the Temple to be rebuilt in Jerusalem. Their ruler, Cyrus, is actually who Isaiah was writing about when he wrote about the Messiah. Cyrus was the person who was God’s servant, delivering the people.

In Isaiah 44, this is written about Cyrus:

I am the Lord, who made all things,

who alone stretched out the heavens,

who by myself spread out the earth…

who says of Cyrus, ‘He is my shepherd,

and he shall carry out all my purpose’

and who says of Jerusalem, ‘It shall be rebuilt’,

and of the temple, ‘Your foundation shall be laid.’

For the author of Isaiah, Cyrus was a lower-case m messiah. He was seen as a servant of God, one who carried out God’s purpose, pivotal in returning people to their home and the one who allowed Jerusalem and the Temple to be rebuilt.

It is important to remember that the writers of scripture recognized that people from other countries could be God’s servants, that God’s designs can be carried out by people from other lands. Where we try to draw lines and build borders to separate us from each other, our ancestors in faith recognized that God’s deliverance erased those divisions, and that God will use unlikely people to save God’s people, so we ought to be careful about building barriers that could keep people out. Yes, I’m thinking of the border wall, and national politics, because scripture very clear that welcoming the foreigner is the call of God’s people, but I’m also thinking closer to home. How often do we decide someone is beyond our care and concern because our differences are more important than our similarities?

One of the messages in Isaiah is that God will use literally anyone to bring about God’s purposes. The rulers of Assyria and Babylon were God’s agents of judgment, and Cyrus of Persia was God’s agent of deliverance. In both the judgment and in the deliverance, God is at work. God will not be limited by our tribalism or borders. So we hold lightly to our prejudice and we try to recognize God’s work in the world, even when it is carried out by foreigners, by people of the political party you didn’t vote for, or by people whose lived experience in the world is unrecognizable to you.

And we’ve talked about this before, but the Old Testament prophets often seem harsh to our ears, knowing that they are calling judgment on people who have already been defeated and demoralized. Much of the first half of the Book of Isaiah is an oracle of judgment, laying the responsibility for their troubles right at the feet of the people of God, who have not been faithful to God. But when you are in a place of defeat that is taking you towards despair, it can be helpful to take stock of your own actions, and to consider how you have contributed to the moment you are in.

I talked a few weeks ago about how hope is a muscle to develop more than a feeling. So is peace. One of the ways to develop that muscle is to decide you want to change your behavior so that you can change the world you’re in.

Today’s passage is from the book of comfort, written later than the first parts of Isaiah, and likely not be Isaiah himself, unless he was still writing 100 + years later, when the exiles came home.

Shake yourself from the dust, rise up, O captive Jerusalem;

loose the bonds from your neck,

O captive daughter Zion!

He calls the people to rise up, to see themselves as free people, and not people who are weighed down in bondage. We have not been in exile as Israel was, but when the weight of the world gets heavy on our shoulders, we, too, look down. Our attention can be fixed just on the ground right in front of our feet and need Isaiah's reminder to shake off the dust, to let go of the burdens that weigh us down and look up.

How beautiful upon the mountains

are the feet of the messenger who announces peace,

who brings good news.

The mountain of God is a recurring image in Isaiah, reminding the people to look up, to remember that God sees us and acts for us. And it is hard to look up when you are carrying heavy weight across your shoulders.

And it is up on the mountains where the messenger and their beautiful feet are announcing God’s message of peace, bringing good news, and announcing liberation.

This message of comfort from Isaiah is a physical movement from being burdened to being unburdened. I invite you to feel this in your own body now. Imagine you’ve got a very heavy pack on your back that does not have good lumbar support or comfort straps. Bring your shoulders forward and feel how that directs your head down as well.

When you’re in this position, you can’t see the beauty around you, and you can’t really even see the people around you, other than their feet.

Isaiah calls the people to put on their strength to shake themselves from the dust, and to rise up,

O captive Jerusalem; to loose the bonds from their neck.

You can set down those burdens I asked you to imagine. And when you do that, you can look up and around, your spine straightens and you feel taller, and that’s when you look up and see on the mountain the beautiful feet of God’s messenger of peace.

Isaiah tells us to look for the messenger on the mountain who announces peace. And to do that, we have to set down our burdens and look up.

It doesn’t mean our struggles and burdens aren’t still with us, of course. There were still challenges and struggles for Israel, long after Cyrus let the people return to Jerusalem. There are still challenges and struggles for us today, even as we seek to not be burdened by them. It’s about a change of focus that comes with a change of posture.

Once we look up, we see God’s mountain and God’s messenger with the beautiful feet. But maybe more importantly, we see each other. And I don’t know about you, but most everything I know about God’s care for us, God’s call to justice, and God’s fierce love, I’ve learned from people. Sometimes the people I know and see often, and other times from people I don’t know, acting as God’s messenger of peace in the world.

We are all called to be God’s messengers of peace. Imagine the world we could create if we could help each other set down our burdens and be messengers of peace. I love this story from author Elizabeth Gilbert:

“Some years ago, I was stuck on a crosstown bus in New York City during rush hour. Traffic was barely moving. The bus was filled with cold, tired people who were deeply irritated with one another, with the world itself. Two men barked at each other about a shove that might or might not have been intentional. A pregnant woman got on, and nobody offered her a seat. Rage was in the air; no mercy would be found here.

But as the bus approached Seventh Avenue, the driver got on the intercom.”Folks,” he said, I know you have had a rough day and you are frustrated. I cant do anything about the weather or traffic, but here is what I can do. As each one of you gets off the bus, I will reach out my hand to you. As you walk by, drop your troubles into the palm of my hand, okay? Dont take your problems home to your families tonight, just leave them with me. My route goes right by the Hudson River, and when I drive by there later, I will open the window and throw your troubles in the water.”

It was as if a spell had lifted. Everyone burst out laughing. Faces gleamed with surprised delight. People who had been pretending for the past hour not to notice each others existence were suddenly grinning at each other like, is this guy serious?

Oh, he was serious.

At the next stop, just as promised, the driver reached out his hand, palm up, and waited. One by one, all the exiting commuters placed their hand just above his and mimed the gesture of dropping something into his palm. Some people laughed as they did this, some teared up but everyone did it. The driver repeated the same lovely ritual at the next stop, too. And the next. All the way to the river.

She continues, we live in a hard world, my friends. Sometimes it is extra difficult to be a human being. Sometimes you have a bad day. Sometimes you have a bad day that lasts for several years. You struggle and fail. You lose jobs, money, friends, faith, and love. You witness horrible events unfolding in the news, and you become fearful and withdrawn. There are times when everything seems cloaked in darkness. You long for the light but dont know where to find it.

But what if you are the light? What if you are the very agent of illumination that a dark situation begs for? Thats what this bus driver taught me, that anyone can be the light, at any moment. This guy wasn’t some big power player. He wasn’t a spiritual leader. He wasn’t some media-savvy influencer. He was a bus driver, one of societys most invisible workers. But he possessed real power, and he used it beautifully for our benefit.

When life feels especially grim, or when I feel particularly powerless in the face of the worlds troubles, I think of this man and ask myself, What can I do, right now, to be the light? Of course, I cant personally end all wars, or solve global warming, or transform vexing people into entirely different creatures. I definitely cant control traffic. But I do have some influence on everyone I brush up against, even if we never speak or learn each others name.

She ends with, ”No matter who you are, or where you are, or how mundane or tough your situation may seem, I believe you can illuminate your world. In fact, I believe this is the only way the world will ever be illuminated, one bright act of grace at a time, all the way to the river.” ~~

Friends, as we long for light, let us be light for each other, proclaiming God’s message of peace to each other and to the world.

Sermon 11.24.2024: The Work of Hope

Sun, 24 Nov 2024 20:30:05 GMT

Scripture

Isaiah 6

In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord sitting on a throne, high and lofty; and the hem of his robe filled the temple. Seraphs were in attendance above him; each had six wings: with two they covered their faces, and with two they covered their feet, and with two they flew. And one called to another and said:

‘Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts;

the whole earth is full of his glory.’

The pivots on the thresholds shook at the voices of those who called, and the house filled with smoke. And I said:

‘Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips,

and I live among a people of unclean lips;

yet my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!”

Then one of the seraphs flew to me, holding a live coal that had been taken from the altar with a pair of tongs. The seraph touched my mouth with it and said:

‘Now that this has touched your lips,

your guilt has departed and your sin is blotted out. ’

Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying,

‘Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?’

And I said, ‘Here am I; send me!’

(Continued in the sermon...)

Sermon

Reign of Christ Sunday [1]

Does History Repeat Itself (All Over Again)?

Uzziah was one in the handful of good kings. King Uzziah, like King David, lived under the law of Torah, [2] a king who chose faithfulness. The four "good kings” came from the southern kingdom of Judah. As a Southerner, let me point out that not a one of those northern yankee kings were worth a plug nickel. [3] After 52 years of his relatively prosperous and peaceful reign, King Uzziah’s death set an already-divided nation on the road to catastrophe. Prophesying trouble ahead, Isaiah, the son of Amoz, began writing an astonishing testimony that shapes our world to this day. As soon as Uzziah died, Team Corruption took over. They made shady deals with enemy armies. They deported whole categories of people from Judah to Samaria.

Into God’s Presence

Notice the first verse. It happened in the year the unravelling began. Isaiah’s vision of God, in the Temple, sporting a skirt so elaborate Isaiah had to step around it or maybe stand on it—a train that fills a Temple. And in one sentence, we leave the physical world to step into the presence of all that is holy. God’s seraphs are fiery flying creatures, Scholar Robert Alter warns that the Hebrew here implies the seraphs could be flying snake-angels. Each seraphs has three sets of wings, hovering above God, like three-propellered drones. Cool and awful.

A Controlled Burn

Isaiah hears them singing sanctus, sanctus—holy, holy, holy is the Lord of armies. Then Isaiah’s meltdown, “Woe is me! I am lost….” More like, “I can’t even with all this!” ‘I’m not worthy of this, and my people are just as bad, but now I stand in the presence of God.’ Then, the flying snake [4] angels, still on fire mind you, choose the perfect piece of coal, one that will burn away all of Isaiah’s self-doubt and sin. A purifying. In Alexander Pushkin’s poem [5] on this passage, the seraph rips out the prophet’s heart and grinds in the burning coal to replace it. [6] Isaiah’s vision is sacred and brutal. Can we find value in pain? Blessings in horrific situations? Hearing God’s call, like Isaiah, always involves some kind of discomfort. The apocryphal book of Ecclesiasticus [7] warn us that if we aspire to serve God, prepare for an ordeal. [8] Then Isaiah replies to the Divine, “Here I am, send me.” or “Behold me and send me.” Behold, you’re getting all of my talent and all of my shortcomings, my faith and my misgivings. You behold me, God. What you behold is what you get.

Our Narrative Lectionary [9] says we should stop here—at “here I am, pick me”—but that’s too easy an ending. Renewing my personal commitment to do everything the hard way, let’s continue and discover more about God’s call to Isaiah.

Isaiah 6 (continued). And he said, ‘Go and say to this people:

“Keep listening, but do not comprehend;

keep looking, but do not understand.”

Make the mind of this people dull,

and stop their ears,

and shut their eyes,

so that they may not look with their eyes,

and listen with their ears,

and comprehend with their minds,

and turn and be healed. ’

Then I said, ‘How long, O Lord? ’And he said:

‘Until cities lie waste

without inhabitant,

and houses without people,

and the land is utterly desolate;

until the Lord sends everyone far away,

and vast is the emptiness in the midst of the land.

Even if a tenth part remains in it,

it will be burned again,

like a terebinth (tree) or an oak

whose stump remains standing

when it is felled.’

The holy seed is its stump.

Faith the Nation

God wants the nation to repent, or be purified (by fire). The stump, the fire and the desolation are metaphors that offer God’s people a clean slate, opportunities for God to do a new thing—in other words, there is hope amidst catastrophe. Through faith, we can see hope even in a stump ! I got a little “stumped” by this passage. So, I called on my friend, Cantor Sharon Bernstein at Congregation Sha’ar Zahav. She says:

For me, it comes down to the meaning of [verses] 9 and 10. Are the people being externally prevented from seeing, hearing, and understanding? Or are these verses reflecting a reality in which people are…unable to see, hear, and understand, and that they must overcome their own blocks towards returning to God? [10]

Brilliant questions. What is blocking the nation from returning to God?

You Gotta Have Heart

Roger Nishioka tells the story of his Jewish friend who greets him saying, “I’ve been thinking about you” while pointing to her heart. Try that. The word lev is the seat of the intellect. [11] Verse 10 means “Make the heart of this people heavy.” Fatten them up on God’s truth—a good image for Thanksgiving. You can feed them my spiritual food, but they won’t eat it, says God.They will look and not see. Hear and not listen. They have chosen—or something has made—their hearts impervious to God. I recently read a Quaker minister’s description of a particular politician that went something like, “I know he’s a child of God, but he hides it so masterfully!” The same could be said for Uzziah’s successors, Ahaz in Judah, and Pekah in the north. Hard-hearted, little Grinch hearts, in need of God’s nourishment. Defiant and willful. Their hope is in themselves, Isaiah writes in chapter 5. No wonder they’re mean and vulgar and reckless.

Hope & Memory

Hope is a hard sell to a people drunk [12] on power. They think they’re heroes. They are self-congratulatory. Their group-vengeance “buzz” blocks them from caring about the rights of others or the rules others live by. They are the leaders, writes queer Bible commentator Timothy Koch, who “incite a crowd to protest in places where abortions are performed, [or] to break the windows of Jewish [or Muslim] businesses” [13] and then disavow responsibility. These are the same kind of leaders who are going to ban the highest-ranking transgender person ever elected by the people of this country from using the bathroom in the United States capitol. [14] Later on, when their followers kill and bomb, they will avoid the cameras or act surprised. You can tell them, says God, but they won’t listen. Show them, but they continue to choose not to see. They are proud of overcoming the inconveniences of right and wrong. [15]

All of this has happened before. Isaiah “names ancient…strategies of manipulation and control that are in evidence today, tactics frequently employed by those in religious and/or governmental power.” [16] But Isaiah, like Harvey Milk, knew, “You gotta give em hope.” So many of you have come to me hopeless in the past week. Thank you for trusting me with your hopelessness. You got me to thinking, what is hope anyway? First, hope is not insane optimism in the face of abject evil. Hope is not our well-meaning friends cheering us up when we’re down. Joan Chittister writes that hope is not made of denial. Hope is made of memory. [17] Isaiah’s memories— they’re in the book—show us how God’s people made it through the Assyrian mess, the Babylonian Exile, all kinds of troubles. In Chapter 8, we see that they made it through conspiracy theories. Hope is alive in the memory of our ancestors. We honor them with our perseverance and our choice: hope. Our leaders have promised us [18] that the coming years will not be easy. Please make sure you have learned all of the assigned material—prophecy and gospel, Psalm and epistle—because it will all be on the test.

“Hope” by Jason Robert Brown:

I come to sing a song about hope.

I’m not inspired much today, but even so,

I came out here to sing a song

So here I go.

I guess I think that if I tinker long enough

One might appear,

And look! It’s here.

One verse is done.

The work’s begun.

I come to sing a song about hope

In spite of everything ridiculous and sad

Though I’m beyond belief depressed, confused and mad.

Well—I got dressed.

I underestimated how much that would take.

I didn’t break, until right now.

I sing of hope—and don’t know how.

So maybe I could substitute “strength”

Because I’m strong, I’m strong enough.

I got through lots of things I didn’t think I could,

And so did you.

I know that’s true.

And so we sing a song about hope,

Though we can’t guarantee there’s something real behind it.

We have to try to show our daughters we can find it.

And so today—when life is crazy and impossible to bear—

It must be there.

Fear never wins.

That’s what I hope.

See, I said “hope.”

The work begins.

About The Bulletin Cover

(San Damiano Cross, image)

Recently, I participated in an amazing queer [19] clergy retreat, walking in the footsteps Saints Francis and Clare of Assisi… in Assisi… Italy! How blessed am I. The cross on today’s bulletin cover (pictured above [20] in this printed sermon) was created anonymously, around a thousand years ago. This San Damiano Cross is the icon Francis would wrestle with, all Saturday-night long, preparing for Sunday morning worship. Icons are neither drawn nor painted; icons are written testaments . This icon is called The Book of the Cross, a medieval roadmap for a faithful journey. Locate the shells. They remind us that this life as a pilgrimage. See them? They form the cross’s border. See how the border is left open. So, at the foot of the cross, here is where we enter—in darkness—the dark of a cave, the place of no foreseeable future, or a blank slate, or the dark of the womb, where we anticipate new life. This darkness is essential place, where we walk by faith and not by sight, a darkness where hope isn’t obvious. Here, we must trust. Let God be God. This is terrifying for us control freaks and people who fear change. Come on in to this holy darkness. We’ll be together. Before this cross reading ends, look at his face. That is not a suffering face. It that peace? Perhaps a little hope? Christ’s suffering is accomplished, and a new life is begun. He is looking for you, believing in your potential. The Sprit of the Lord is upon him, and he commands us: to bring good news to the poor, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom to prisoners, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor, and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn… [21]

[1] See my beginner’s guide to the San Damiano Cross “The Book of the Cross” (graphic) at the end of this sermon.

[2] Uzziah's disobedience to the law might have brought on his demise. He contracted leprosy after violating the separation of priestly/kingly powers.

[3] I mean this as folksy Bible nerd humor. Some of my best friends are yankees.

[4] Sweet dreams! And remember, sometimes a flying snake is just a flying snake.

[5] A. Pushkin’s 1826 poem “The Prophet” < https://max.mmlc.northwestern.edu/mdenner/Demo/texts/prophet.htm>

[6] Robert Alter, The Hebrew Bible: A Translation with Commentary, Volume 2: The Prophets, (New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 2019), 641.

[7] Ecclesiasticus, aka Sirach, 2:1 < https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Sirach 2&version=NRSVUE>

[8] This rooster symbolizes the trials of following Jesus in The Book of the Cross (San Damiano Cross). The rooster is almost hidden, hard to make out, but it lives in the right-side border, near Jesus’ feet. It symbolizes not only the begging of God’s “new thing” but, also as the denial and sabotage experienced by the burgeoning Jesus Movement (“the cock crows three times”). This can help to put troubling times and, more specifically, the promised sabotage of our way of life, into a larger perspective. Think of all we’ve been through, all that Jesus went through. We’ve got this.

[9] What is the Narrative Lectionary? < https://www.workingpreacher.org/narrative-faq> We are currently following the Narrative Lectionary at Calvary.

[10] A quote from Cantor Sharon Bernstein’s very insightful written response.

[11] Also from Cantor Bernstein. .

[12] See Isaiah, chapter 5.

[13] Timothy Koch in The Queer Bible Commentary 2nd Edition (London: SCM Press, 202

[14] I can’t even.. < https://gomag.com/article/trans-congresswoman-sarah-mcbride-is-banned-from-capitol-hill-bathroom-and-shes-not-fighting-it/>

[15] Read Isaiah, chapter 5.

[16] Koch, Queer Bible Commentary, 347.

[17] Joan Chittister “Hope Is Not For Easy Times” <https://joanchittister.org/word-from-joan/hope-not-easy-times>

[18] Tucker Carlson’s MSG speech < https://singjupost.com/full-transcript-tucker-carlson-speaks-at-msg-trump-rally/>

[19] Although some served in alternative contexts, like me, most of the participants were from my denomination of ordination, the Metropolitan Community Churches, the original interfaith movement of religious equality. < https://insidemcc.org/about-mcc/mcc-history/>

[20] San Damiano Cross (“The Book of the Cross”) <https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/31/Kruis_san_damiano.gif>

[21] Isaiah 61, alt. by the preacher

Sermon 11.17.2024: A New Thing

Sun, 17 Nov 2024 02:46:33 GMT

The prophet Isaiah tells his people that God is about to do a new thing. He asks if they can perceive it. But his people are in exile in a foreign country and the 'new' things they've experienced have been terrible.

When God promises a new thing, it is good news, and it is not something we could dream up on our own. As we live our lives, do we hear Isaiah asking us if we can perceive God's new thing?

Scripture

Isaiah 43:14-21

Thus says the Lord,
your Redeemer, the Holy One of Israel:
For your sake I will send to Babylon
and break down all the bars,
and the shouting of the Chaldeans will be turned to lamentation.
I am the Lord, your Holy One,
the Creator of Israel, your King.
Thus says the Lord,
who makes a way in the sea,
a path in the mighty waters,
who brings out chariot and horse,
army and warrior;
they lie down, they cannot rise,
they are extinguished, quenched like a wick:
Do not remember the former things,
or consider the things of old.
I am about to do a new thing;
now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?
I will make a way in the wilderness
and rivers in the desert.
The wild animals will honour me,
the jackals and the ostriches;
for I give water in the wilderness,
rivers in the desert,
to give drink to my chosen people,
the people whom I formed for myself
so that they might declare my praise.

Sermon

We'll be hearing from the prophet Isaiah through Christmas, and our stewardship passage for the year kicks us off. Isaiah was likely written by more than one author, over a period of years. It is from Isaiah that we get a lot of our Advent and Christmas imagery. Jesus and John the Baptist use Isaiah’s language. Much of the text of Handel’s Messiah comes from the Book of Isaiah.

The book speaks to the people of Jerusalem, first as a warning, and later as a comfort. First, he warns them that if they abandon their God to gain political power, things won’t go well for them.

And then, after they had been sent to exile in Babylon, he preaches to them of comfort, reminding them that while they have not been faithful to God, God remains faithful to them.

Today’s passage is from the comfort section of the book. And Isaiah’s words are relevant to us, even those of us who already know lives of comfort and privilege. We also can see around us the failure of human political systems, where people vote by a slim but winning majority, for a candidate who has promised to hurt people, has promised to harm immigrants, has promised to harm trans kids and the queer community, has promised to make billionaires more billionaire-y.

Isaiah is writing to people like us. People who thought we were in control and could handle things just fine. I don’t know how you’re feeling as the cabinet announcements are being made but everything is not being handled just fine. I feel like all I can do right now is to not normalize this behavior. Congress might agree to these appointments, but it doesn’t make it okay to fill the government with patently unqualified and unserious candidates. Isaiah is writing to remind people who have forgotten that control is an illusion, writing to remind them that trust in God is the one thing we can do when things seem unmanageable.

We are not in literal exile as Israel was in Isaiah’s day. So I don’t want to overstate our connection. But I do hope we will remember that there is resonance in the stories of scripture, even if the contexts of our lives are not exactly the same.

The prophet Isaiah tells us not to remember the former things, or to consider the things of old. But before we look at the new things, we should notice that Isaiah doesn’t completely follow his own advice. Because the first part of our text involves a lot of remembering and considering. “Thus says the Lord who makes a way in the sea, a path in the mighty waters, who brings out chariot and horse, army and warrior…”

This is the same God, he reminds them, who ushered the people of Israel through the parted waters of the Red Sea, delivering them from Egypt, saving them from slavery. Don’t forget it.

So, before we NOT remember or consider the things of old, let’s make sure we have done just that. Because it is the past instances of deliverance that will call us to believe and trust and remember that it will happen again.

The God who stopped Pharaoh, the God who freed a people from slavery and delivered them to the Promised Land is still speaking to God’s people today.

And God still has plans to deliver and redeem God’s people.

But do not remember the former things, or consider the things of old. Because deliverance will not be the same. Don’t go stand at the side of the Red Sea, waiting for the waters to part. Because they won’t.

Any further deliverance is going to be a very different kind of exodus.

In other words, “while I am the God who saved you back then, that is no longer going to be the story you tell people. When you talk about your God, you will tell a new story.”

Here at Calvary, it is important that we remember the stories of how God has cared for us in the past, how Calvary has weathered storms and how God has provided for us in the past in ways that we still benefit from today.

So we consider the old things because as they remind you to have hope for, and an imagination for, the new things that God is doing.

Do you not perceive it?

This is a NEW THING.

God tells us, “I am the one who can put water in the desert. I am the one who will make the path for you. A path where no path has been before. Even the ostriches and jackals will honor the Lord.”

Whatever this New Thing will be, you can’t even conceive of it on your own. And you don’t get to determine how the story will play out.

Some of us hear this announcement of a new thing and say, ‘great! where do I sign up?’ For some of us, the past is something we would gladly leave behind for a new opportunity.

But some of us are looking for more details. “Okay, God. Before I sign up for this journey, I need you to be specific. The jackals and ostriches are an intriguing detail, but I don’t quite know how that applies to me and I need some more information. I’ve got some control issues.”

We are people who want to see the future before we get there. And if the past has been good to us, if we are perfectly comfortable in the present, why would we want to leave it behind for something unknown and new? God’s message of a new thing is not always a welcome message to comfortable people.

The people hearing Isaiah’s words aren’t sitting in comfort though. They are in the midst of the consequences of some of their bad political and religious choices. Destruction. Exile. Loss. Devastation.

Earlier in the book of Isaiah, the prophet had tried to steer the people away from making those bad choices by warning them of the wasteland they would create. In chapter 34, he writes of what shall happen to Israel:

Thorns shall grow over its strongholds,

nettles and thistles in its fortresses.

It shall be the haunt of jackals,

an abode for ostriches.

The Jackals and Ostriches that appear in today’s text in chapter 43 are not entirely new. But they are being re-assigned their role in the story.

As one of the commentators says about this text: “The prophet projected a vivid image of chaos: jackals and ostriches prowling amidst the ruins of a world collapsed under the weight of the iniquity of its inhabitants. To portray the radical nature of the new thing that God purposes, … Isaiah reintroduces the jackals and ostriches, this time themselves restored to beauty and wholeness and giving honor to their Creator! Even they have taken their place in a world abiding in shalom, a world in which God tenderly cares for the people whom God has chosen, a world – and now we come to the culminating act that gathers all creation up into one common purpose – in which Israel by its very existence bears witness to the one reason that gives eternal value to life: so that they might declare my praise.” (Hanson, Paul. Isaiah 40-66 in Interpretation. (JKP: Louisville, 1995) p75)

Whatever plans we make, in other words, are of a different scale to what plans God is making. We are invited to join in the work God is doing. We are invited to be witnesses of what God is imagining and doing, where the jackals and ostriches that prowl the ruins can become, in the faithfulness of God, the markers of a new creation. We are invited to trust that whatever new thing God is preparing and dreaming for us, no matter how unfathomable, is better than trusting only our own gumption and resolve.

Isaiah uses his prophetic imagination to call Israel to remember their own imagination. When you’ve lost your country, and been taken into exile in a foreign land as your political structures have collapsed, imagination is dangerous. In the midst of your trauma and anxiety, what your mind can imagine is terrible. “We’ll never get back to Jerusalem, will we? We’ll never have elections again now that Babylon has taken over and claims to have a mandate.”

You can see how imagination is dangerous when combined with anxiety. And I’m not saying Israel was wrong for shutting down their imaginations. The situation on the ground for them was bad.

But when your imagination shuts down, despair can creep in because you haven’t just stopped imagining the bad possibilities, you stop imagining any good ones too. And when you have no hope or dream for what a future could be like, Babylon has won.

So Isaiah is calling them back to the work of imagining a future they do want to live in.

Do not remember the former things,

or consider the things of old.

19 I am about to do a new thing;

now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?

From the midst of exile and anxiety, God calls the people to be on the lookout for deliverance, for mercy, for goodness.

The Stewardship committee picked this passage for our annual giving campaign this year because we are perceiving that God is doing new things here at Calvary and it is an exciting moment for us as a congregation.

Calvary can look back at previous moments of God’s deliverance with gratitude, but whatever the future holds for us, God’s deliverance will look different in 2024 than it did in 1854 when the church was founded in a brand-new town on the edge of the country.

And I confess that I would like to be able to really clearly see this new thing God is doing, rather than just sort of perceive it. But if total control is not the spiritual gift God has given me, alas, I will take the glimmers of this new thing. I can feel it jump starting my imagination for what might be. And you can feel it too, right?

In a world where people are isolated and turning away from each other, you gather here each week, building community across your differences. This matters. Your presence as community is a reminder to the world that we don’t have to be isolated and alone. God is doing a new thing, do you not perceive it?

I feel glimmers of God’s new thing in the work of some of our committees, and I apologize for just uttering the most presbyterian kind of comment imaginable—to say that God is at work in committees—but it is true. I am excited about the people who have said yes to the churchwide nominating committee when they have been asked to serve as elders, deacons, and Foundation trustees. There are churches having to beg people to serve, but we have people enthusiastic to say yes. God is doing a new thing; do you not perceive it?

I feel glimmers of God’s new thing in the work of the Faith In Action Team and the Living Sanctuary team, where they are faithfully engaged and responding to what we can do as a church to keep people safe, sheltered, and cared for. This past week, Tosca and Zanne cooked 100 meals for the women at SafeHouse. Yesterday we had eighty some people in the building for an event hosted by the Racial Equity Initiative at Calvary, where we learned some of the challenges faced by people who re-enter society after they have paid their debt to society in prison. It was an eye-opening experience to see how many challenges they face, and a reminder that we have work to do. God is doing a new thing, do we not perceive it?

For years, Calvary has been talking about hiring another youth director and it took some time, but I am convinced that we were waiting for Jeff Smith to be available to be hired and we just didn’t know it at the time. He’s been a great addition to the staff and is a glimmer for me of this new thing God is doing. If your kids haven’t met him yet, I hope they will soon. God is doing a new thing; do we not perceive it?

I feel glimmers of God’s new thing during the week, when this building is buzzing. In addition to the church groups that meet during the week, we host yoga classes, a Muslim prayer group, community meeting space, weekly rehearsal space for multiple choirs and orchestras, author events with Book Passage, and so many more moments. God is doing a new thing; do we not perceive it?

And as we’ve put the budget together for next year, there is a similar excitement. We realize that to do what God is calling us to do requires resources. But rather than producing anxiety, as I know talk of money can do, it is producing anticipation and hope. We believe God is at work in this place and we are hopeful that if everyone participates at whatever level they can, we’ll be able to imagine what God is dreaming for us.

When the despair and worries of the world threaten to take away your hope, I invite you to remember to imagine. It doesn’t erase the work we have to do, or the real problems we face, but deeply believe it helps us connect to what God is already at work at in the world.

We begin with imagination. And then we get to work, welcoming the outcast, caring for each other, seeking justice in society, loving our neighbors as ourselves. And we trust that in that work, God is doing a new thing.

We get to be a part of it. Let’s get those imaginations going. We’ve got dreams to bring to life.

Calvary Presbyterian Church, San Francisco

Sermon 04.12.2026: Doubting as Faith

﻿

Scripture

John 20:19-31

Sermon

Sermon 04.05.2026: While It Was Still Dark

Mary went to the tomb on Easter morning while it was still dark. She encountered the living Christ not after day had dawned, not when things were looking hopeful, but while it was still dark.

﻿

What might the Easter story have to say to our world today? Where is resurrection in our midst?

Scripture

John 20:1-18

Sermon

Benediction:

Sermon 03.29.2026: Enough is Enough

﻿

Scripture

John 12:1-27

John 19:16b-22

Sermon

The life you clutch, hoard, guard, and play safe with is in the end a life worth little to anybody, including yourself, and only a life given away for love's sake is a life worth living.”

Sermon 03.22.2026: No King but the Emperor

In this passage from John's gospel, we're reminded that while the occupying Roman government murdered Jesus, they did so with the encouragement of Jesus' own people.

What does this story have to say for how we live together, how we acknowledge our mistakes, and how we are called to be faithful today?

Scripture

John 19:1-16a

Sermon

Sermon 03.15.2026: Make Good Choices!

Scripture

John 18:28-40

Sermon

Sermon 03.08.2026: I AM (not)

In today's reading, Peter denies Jesus three times.

Peter isn’t any worse than any other sheep in God’s flock. Here, at least, he’s also not better. We are people, like Peter, who deny.

We deny our connectedness.

We divide into “us and them”.

We seek easy answers to complicated questions.

Denial is not the end of Peter's story. It doesn't have to be the end of ours either. Whatever answer we have chosen in the past, we can always choose a new answer today.

﻿

Scripture

John 18:12-27

Sermon

2025 Annual Report

Sermon 03.01.2026: Bread, Bath & Beyond

On the night we expect bread and cup, John’s gospel gives us a towel and a basin. Jesus kneels, turning ritual into relationship and power into vulnerable love. Communion is not words at a table, but embodied connection that changes and binds us together—when we dare to be present.

﻿

Scripture

John 13:1-17

Sermon

I. BREAD

II. BATH

III. BEYOND

Sermon 02.22.2026: Living, Dying, Rising

﻿

Scripture

John 11:1-44

Sermon

Sermon 02.15.2026: Blinded by the Light

﻿

Scripture

John 9:1-41

Sermon

Sermon 02.08.2026: The Gift of Desperation

Many of us feel things are falling apart-either in our personal, professional, or public life. How can suffering invite us toward deeper freedom, integrity, and trust in God? How can our helplessness transform us into the people God has created us to be?

﻿

Scripture

John 4:46-54

Sermon

Sermon 02.01.2026: Shallow Wells

﻿

Scripture

John 4:1-42

Sermon

Sermon 01.25.2026: Normalizing the Light Nicodemus and the World We Accept

Salvation is not an exit plan! It's God’s deep commitment to redeeming what the world has learned to call normal. God does not abandon the world’s brokenness but enters it to make it whole.

﻿

Scripture

John 3:1-21

Sermon

Lights Up.

Post-Sermon Reflection:
A Manger in the Mud and the Muck, by Jon-Marc McDonald