Sermon; Proper 13A; Matt. 14:13-21

We have left Chapter 13 and all those kingdom parables behind and have moved onto a section of the gospel dealing with the formation of the new community of God, or the realization of the kingdom of heaven here on earth. We've spent the last several weeks hearing, “The kingdom of heaven is like . . .” and now we are moving toward that new kingdom and new community. At this point in the gospel story we begin to see the old passing away and the establishment of the new.

The Lectionary skips over two important stories between last week's parables and this week's gospel. The first is that after teaching in parables Jesus heads to his hometown where he is summarily rejected. “Isn't this the carpenter's son, and don't we know his brothers and sisters?” Consequently Jesus “could not do many deeds of power there because of their unbelief.” And the second story is where we hear about the execution of John the Baptist. It's after hearing the news of John's beheading that Jesus goes off by himself to a deserted place. The old town refuses to hear new teachings, and John, the last of the “old” prophets, has died, making way for Jesus and the new community.

This new community of God that Jesus is working to establish works to make the kingdom of heaven realized in the here and now, not at some distant point in the future. Which is why Jesus told all those parables – to get people thinking about how the heavenly kingdom is present and attainable now.

In those kingdom parables there is a theme of abundance: a sower sows abundantly not worrying about where the seed will land; seeds grown in good soil produce much; small things, seeds and yeast, have a big impact; and surprising treasures are found. If anything we learn that God is the God of abundance, if we only look for it and believe it to be true. That abundance of God shows up in spades today.

After hearing about John's execution Jesus goes to a deserted place by himself. I'm guessing to wrap his head around what happened. We don't know how close those two were, but I have to think that when Jesus heard the news he was thinking, “How long until they come for me?” But instead of getting some much needed quiet time, the crowd tracks him down. So much for respecting boundaries.

Rather than going elsewhere, Jesus goes ashore and, with compassion, he cures those who were sick. He doesn't preach. He doesn't teach. He doesn't reprimand them for having boundary issues. With patience and love he cures them.

We don't know how long Jesus was with the crowds curing them, but by the time he's finished it's evening. The disciples, recognizing its getting late, want Jesus to dismiss the crowds so they will still have time to eat before all the restaurants and stores close. That is actually not bad thinking on their part. But Jesus has other ideas.

He tells the disciples, “You give them something to eat.” They respond, “But we only have five loaves and two fish.” Undeterred, Jesus takes what they have, blesses it, breaks the bread, and gives it to the disciples to pass out. Enough is left over that the disciples collect twelve baskets full.

There are generally two interpretations to this story. The first, and most traditional, is that Jesus, being fully divine, was able to multiply the loaves and fish in such a way that everybody was fed. According to Matthew, that would be 5000 men, plus women and children – so let's say 9000 – 11000 people. We also know that 98 percent of all statistics are made up . . . but even if there were 500 people, that's still an impressive miracle.

The second is that this wasn't a miracle of multiplication but a miracle of generosity. That is, people were smart enough to never travel into deserted places/wilderness areas without food. But there were probably those who didn't plan ahead, leaving them in a vulnerable position. The initial sharing of five loaves and two fish, while not nearly enough to feed the crowd, opened people up to sharing what they did have. Everyone then realized that when people share and care for their neighbors, all are fed.

Both views can be considered miracles – a miracle of physics or natural law, and a miracle of the heart.

The negative side of these interpretations, though, is twofold. First, if we believe that Jesus miraculously fed 5000 people with five loaves and two fish, then we can say, “So why doesn't God feed all hungry people everywhere,” or, “If God can feed people, I don't have to do anything to help.” The second is if we believe it was all about sharing, one could argue that God really isn't necessary. I tend to think it's a both/and miracle: Jesus was able to multiply the loaves and fish, AND those gathered lived into the kingdom of heaven's new community of Jesus so that there was enough for all – not only enough, but extra. No matter how you look at this story, we see the abundance of God present in the here and now.

Living into the abundance of God is something the disciples had to learn. It's something Christians of every generation need to learn. It's something we need to learn. This story presents us with two ways of being. We can be like the disciples, see we don't have enough for everyone and send people away. Regardless of our motivation or rationalization, we do that out of scarcity, only seeing what we don't have or can't provide.

The other way of being is the abundant kingdom way. We can choose to see as Jesus saw and recognize that what we have is enough, and probably more than enough. We may only start with five loaves and two fish, but if everyone lives into a theology of abundance, then even that small amount will be multiplied.

If you believe you have enough, you do. But moving from scarcity to abundance takes more than faith, it takes practice. It takes making small steps and seeing that those small acts have a big impact.

I was talking with a couple of people after service one Sunday and reminded them to pick up just one or two hygiene items for the Pantry. One of them said, “I forget, so I need a way to remember.” I said that Joelene and I use a different colored shopping bag that we put hygiene items in. That bag stays in my car until Sunday when I bring it in and put the contents into the collection baskets. This person thought that was a good idea. So . . .

The ushers will now hand out bags with the BLFP logo on them and a shopping list inside to every household. Put the bag with your other shopping bags, or where you keep your grocery list, or in your car. And when you go grocery shopping, put one or two hygiene items into this bag, bring it to church on Sunday, and then put the contents of the bag into the collection baskets in the narthex.

None of us can provide hygiene items for all the hundreds of people who use the Pantry. But if we all see with eyes of abundance and a willingness to share what we have, we can all provide a little which, when multiplied, will help multitudes.

Today's gospel story reminds us that we can do great things if we see with the eyes of God's abundance, living as if the kingdom of heaven was among us now. Go and do likewise.

Amen.

Sermon; Proper 12A; Matt. 13:31-33, 44-52

In Matthew's gospel, Jesus is born, his family flees to Egypt, he returns to Nazareth, is baptized by John, spends 40 days in the wilderness, moves to Capernaum, and then begins his public ministry. The first words of his ministry are the same words that John proclaimed: Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near. Now, hold onto that for a bit.

We are still in Chapter 13, which means we continue to get kingdom parables from Jesus. Today we get five of them in quick succession – the mustard seed, yeast mixed with flour, a treasure found, a pearl of great value, and a catch of fish. Now . . . I could break down each parable with explanations and meanings, but none of us want an hour-long sermon.

As I mentioned, both Jesus and John say that the kingdom of heaven is near. And this idea of the nearness of the kingdom of heaven is prominent in Matthew. In a number of ways and contexts, the word “kingdom” appears in Matthew more than any other gospel. And in a quick, very unscientific look through Matthew, I counted about 16 times that Jesus was specifically talking about the kingdom of heaven. For Matthew's Jesus, the kingdom of heaven isn't some pie-in-the-sky dream or post-death fantasy. For Matthew's Jesus, the kingdom of heaven is near NOW. It is within our grasp NOW. It is something to be worked for and expected NOW. Luke is the other gospel that has a lot of kingdom references, and between the two there are almost 100 references to the kingdom. Not coincidentally, it's in these two gospels where we find the Lord's Prayer in which we pray, “Your kingdom come.”

We all know the two versions are not identical, and Matthew adds, “Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.” That's another reference for working toward the establishment of the kingdom of heaven in the here and now, not in some distant, future fantasy world.

These five kingdom parables, and the ones from the previous two weeks, aren't about a future kingdom, but are designed to get us thinking about the kingdom in the here and now. They are designed to get us to look for and help usher in the kingdom of heaven NOW. And in looking for the kingdom in the here and now, these five parables point to something big – the kingdom of heaven – coming from something small.

The small mustard seed represents the small beginnings of the kingdom that grows into something so large that many birds (i.e., people) make nests in its branches. Think about Abraham and Sarah, two people who were the mustard seed of all the people of Israel. Think about the twelve apostles, that small group of men who, when mixed with the flour of Israel, made a change so profound that it became the Church. Think about St. Francis whose search for meaning and inner peace led him to find the pearl of great price that was monastic orders and leading the restoration of both Church and chapels.

The kingdom of heaven is like something that begins small but disrupts the world as we know it. That's the way God always works. God doesn't do big, grandiose things to prove his existence or to make people believe. I remember reading a story years ago where God got tired of being ignored, so started doing very public things to get people to pay attention – like lowering Australia 20 feet for five minutes. But that's not how God works, as much as we may want that.

God calls Abraham to follow. Jesus calls twelve men to follow. People are sent out to proclaim the kingdom of heaven has come near. That small thing that is planted in here – in each of us and in this congregation – has the potential to do great things one person at a time.

It's like the old Faberge shampoo commercial where a woman tells two friends and she tells two friends and so on and so on and so on. We aren't here to conquer the world, despite what some Christians think. We are here to make the kingdom of heaven known and present in the here and now, one person at a time. We are here to plant that small seed in hopes it will grow into something grand and/or make a lasting change.

I leave for clergy conference next week and the bishop has us reading a book by Richard Rohr, a Roman Catholic priest and Franciscan friar. In that book Rohr writes, “The best criticism of the bad is the practice of the good.” This gets at what Jesus is saying in these parables. The kingdom of heaven is a good, small practice that will ultimately overthrow the bad.

It was Gandhi who said, “Every revolution begins with a single act of defiance.” Whether that is Rosa Parks not moving, a church feeding the hungry, a member of the dominant class speaking up for minorities – respecting the dignity of every human being begins with you. And that tiny seed or bit of yeast has the power to change lives and help usher in the kingdom of heaven in the here and now.

And speaking of revolutions, these parables remind me of the old Star Trek episode Mirror, Mirror. In that episode, Kirk, McCoy, Scotty, and Uhura are transported to a mirror universe where diplomacy is replaced by war, everything is done for a price, and promotions are attained by murdering your superior. At the end of the episode, just before they are transported back to their own universe, Kirk tells mirror Spock that he can change the trajectory of the empire. Spock says, “One man cannot summon the future.” And Kirk replies, “But one man can change the present. Be that man, Spock.”

These are the small seeds of loving your neighbor. This is the yeast that disrupts systems of oppression and inequality helping to create the bread of heaven for all to eat. This is the pearl of great price that we search for in every person. These are the small acts of the kingdom that make it known in the here and now.

I began by reminding you of Jesus' first words in his public ministry: Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.

Sin, remember, is the seeking of our own will instead of the will of God. To repent means to turn from our selfish ways and desires back to God. Our repentance, if it is honest and done with a true desire to change paths and get right with God, will sow the seeds of change. That change in us can lead to sowing seeds of the kingdom in others, which can lead to God's kingdom arriving on earth as it is in heaven.

In all of these parables we are shown that if we expect the kingdom of heaven to appear with power suddenly overthrowing “the bad people,” we will miss it. Instead, the kingdom of heaven appears in very small ways that will eventually grow and disrupt the world for the better.

Be the seed that starts something big. Be the yeast that disrupts the status quo in favor of God's ways. Search for the pearl of great price in others. Start small and then watch how it grows into the magnificent kingdom of heaven in the here and now.

Amen.

Sermon; Proper 11A; Matt. 13:24-30, 36-43

Can anyone tell me what the definition of a weed is? A weed, by definition, is a plant that grows where it is not wanted. So, if I told you there was a plant that is full of vitamins, antioxidants and minerals, may fight inflammation, may lower cholesterol and reduce blood pressure, and possibly help prevent cancer, would that be a plant you would want to grow? I see some skeptical looks like, “What is he trying to pull?”

In today's gospel Jesus gives us the parable of the wheat and weeds. We have good seed that is planted in good soil, that then gets mixed with bad seed planted by an enemy. In this parable nobody knows what has happened until the plants grow up. So the landowner decides to let the two plants, weeds and wheat, grow up and live side by side until the harvest.

There are a lot of ways to go with this parable, and none of them are easy.

One way to view this parable is with a completely hands-off approach. This recognizes that there are weeds and evil ones among us, but there is nothing to be done until the final judgment at the end of the age. It is not for us to judge, therefore we rely on and trust that God will take care of everything eventually. The logical conclusion to this line of thinking is a fatalistic belief that we can do nothing to improve things in the here and now, and we end up living like the people of Israel at the end of Judges: “all the people did what was right in their own eyes.” In other words, it's anarchy on earth until the final judgment.

Another way to think about this parable is to understand that weeds are plants that grow where they aren't wanted. If, as I suggested last week, we are a place that provides good soil where people can develop deep roots and be productive for the kingdom of heaven, then we must also ask ourselves, “Who are the ones we don't want?”

Are they people who sit in our pews? The ones who ask too many questions? Sing too loudly and/or off key? First in line at potlucks but never bring anything? Or any number of other things we don't like or don't approve.

The trick here is to understand that even weeds have some value. How then do we live with them? How do we help them be useful and productive? How do we help them find dignity as a creation of God in a way that they add value to us, to themselves, and to God rather than simply existing and draining our resources? This might be the hardest thing for us to do with a weed – find its usefulness and cultivate it.

A third way to look at this parable is to understand that we all have the potential for good and evil within us. None of us are pure weed or pure wheat. We carry the seeds of both, and both grow side by side. We can choose which one to cultivate. And we can understand that if we focus on the bad seed, that will lower what the good seed within us can produce.

But having both inside us isn't a simple matter of identifying weeds and wheat. Both of those things are tangled up inside us. We are constantly entangled in roots of good and evil. We will say good things while acting on evil things. We will talk about “all God's children,” but support cutting programs to help those in need. The list of entanglements is long, and cultivating wheat takes both hard work and self-awareness.

At the end of today's gospel passage Jesus talks about collecting all sinful things and evildoers and throwing them into the furnace of fire, and then the righteous will shine like the sun. This can lead, and has led, people down a slippery path thinking that, because we are God's chosen, we will get to spend eternity watching and gloating over other sinful people burn in hell. But we need to remember that we are not the final judges and that if both weeds and wheat grow in us, we might be surprised to find ourselves on the wrong side of that chasm.

One thing in Jesus' description of the end of the age that gives me hope is this: they will collect out of his kingdom all causes of sin.

I think there are both external and internal causes of sin, but that most causes of sin are internal. Things like jealousy, gluttony, covetousness, lust, and others bubble up inside us and lead us to sinful acts. If those causes of sin are collected and burned, then the part of me that succumbs to sin, the part of me that is weed, is burned away. That is probably not the easiest thing to experience, but it is for the best.

This parable today gives us a few things to think about. We can give up until the end of the age, but that seems like it does more harm than good. We can work to find value in those whom we consider weeds and look for ways to help cultivate them. We can understand that we ourselves are a tangle of weeds and wheat and work to cultivate that which is good within us. And we can understand that causes of evil are within us and Christ will burn that away so that we may shine like the sun in the kingdom of heaven.

Weeds are simply plants that grow where we don't want them. Knowing what we know now about a certain plant, are you willing to allow dandelions to grow in your yard? Are you willing to work with those whom others might consider weeds to help them produce for the kingdom of heaven?

Amen.

Sermon; Proper 10A; Matt. 13:1-9, 18-23

First, I need to get something off my chest . . . I'm a little annoyed with the lectionary committee this week. They decided that, after four weeks of following Jesus through Chapters 10 and 11 we should completely jump over Chapter 12. Here's why this is important, and here's some homework for you. Last week we heard Jesus say, “Take my yoke upon you, for my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” Then with that in mind, read Chapter 12 of Matthew and pay attention to the interactions between Jesus and the Pharisees and notice the yoke and burden of Jesus vs. the yoke and burden of the Pharisees.

Okay . . . now that that's done, let's look at today's gospel.

Chapter 13 ushers in a series of what are known as “kingdom parables” – parables focused on the nearness of the kingdom of heaven. And while today's parable doesn't explicitly state that, Jesus could have very easily begun by saying, “The kingdom of heaven is like a sower who went out to sow.”

We've probably all heard this parable many times and we have all probably heard just as many sermons on it. So I won't try to explain it – Jesus does that himself. Instead, let me see if I can give you something new to think about.

One popular interpretation, and the one that Jesus himself gives, is that we are the seeds that land in various spots. Maybe we're sown on the path, don't understand the message of the kingdom, and get snatched away. Or maybe we're the ones who get choked by the lure of wealth and worldly concerns. Or maybe we're the ones who fall away when following Christ becomes difficult. Or maybe we're the ones who produce an abundance of fruit for the kingdom. Over the years I've noticed that we are rarely just one of those, but that we can be good one day and fickle or non-existent the next.

We don't like to admit that, but it's true. We all think we're the seed in good soil bearing an abundance of fruit for the kingdom. But how many of us, when given the opportunity to serve or participate in church life or any number of spiritual disciplines have opted to pursue our own desires instead? Or how many of us have been enticed by things we know are not holy or life-giving, or by things we assume give us a certain status in the community? It happens and we need to be honest about it.

What seeds people are with respect to the kingdom is one way to look at this parable. But I was recently shown another way to look at it.

I was talking with Mtr. Ann (from that other Buffalo) last week as we prepared for the Wednesday Night BBQ when she asked, “What kind of soil are we?” That's an excellent question I hadn't ever considered before, and is a better question than, “What seeds are we (or am I)?”

What kind of seed am I focuses only on ourselves. Am I the kind of person who gets seduced by worldly promises? Am I the kind of person who is lured away from the faith by wealth and power? Am I the kind of person who hears what Jesus is saying but does nothing to understand it? Regardless of what kind of seed any of us are, it's all about me.

However, “What kind of soil am I?” is the better question because it asks us to consider how we allow/encourage/nurture others to grow in the faith.

Are we the “soil” of the path, proclaiming the good news to others but offering no resources to help them understand? Are we the rocky soil who proclaim only good and joyful messages (like the Prosperity Gospel) that ultimately provide no depth and allow people to fall away when things get difficult? Are we the soil that allows a shallow faith to get choked away by worldly wealth and power? Are we the good soil, providing resources to understand, helping to make God a priority, and providing a place to weather storms and deepen faith so the kingdom of heaven can grown by hundreds, sixties, and thirties?

Seeing ourselves as soil for the kingdom of heaven, and asking what kind of soil we are, will allow us to, hopefully, cultivate ourselves and this place into fertile ground for the kingdom of heaven.

Finally, let's talk about the sower. The sower is out there scattering seed willy-nilly without a care as to where it lands. What's up with that? If it were me, I'd be making sure the seed I scattered was aimed at good soil. It's almost like this person doesn't even care where it lands. And that's the difference between a theology of scarcity and a theology of abundance.

A theology of scarcity tells us to sparingly share what we have. Scarcity tells us look for only the right people to whom we will proclaim the good news. Scarcity tells us to talk about our faith and God only to those who will benefit this place or only to those whom we think will become good pledgers.

A theology of abundance, however, tells us to generously share what we have. Abundance in proclaiming the good news tells us to share our faith with everyone, regardless of where it lands. Abundance tells us to be foolishly generous by recognizing that everyone needs to hear the good news, regardless of whether or not we deem them to be good soil. And a theology of abundance ultimately asks us to trust God.

Scarcity makes us question our resources. It makes us hold tightly to our gifts because we might lose them. It makes our default mode, “We can't because . . . not enough money, not enough people, not enough resources, not enough time . . . not enough.”

Abundance, though, sees God working in and through everything. Abundance allows and encourages us to pledge to the kingdom of God as represented by this parish. Abundance encourages us to spread the good news randomly and joyfully without regard to who hears it. Abundance makes our default mode, “We can because God is with us.”

I'll come back to the hygiene collection here. Abundance tells us that we can all add at least ONE HYGIENE ITEM to our grocery cart and bring it on Sunday. Abundance tells us that when we ALL do that, the patrons of the Food Pantry will have an abundance of hygiene items.

This first kingdom parable reminds us to be abundant and generous because that's how the kingdom of heaven operates. It reminds us that we don't always produce good fruit for the kingdom. And it can also remind us that we are the soil in which seeds of faith are planted. So let us make this place a place of good, fertile soil in which people grow to produce good fruit for the kingdom while finding depth and strength.

Amen.

Sermon; Proper 9A; Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30

Today's gospel reading needs a bit of context. Unlike the last three weeks that were focused on travel instructions to the apostles before they went out to proclaim, cure, cleanse, and raise, today's passage jumps into the middle of a story we don't understand. So some background.

The beginning of Chapter 11 opens with John the Baptist in prison. He's heard about Jesus so he sends some of his disciples to find out if Jesus is the Messiah or if they are to wait for another. Jesus says, “Go and tell John what you hear and see . . .” basically saying that, yes, he's the one. After John's disciples leave he begins talking to the crowd about John. He asks them what drew them to John, he gets in a dig at Herod, and he says how John embodies the return of Elijah. And it's in this context that today's gospel passage is based.

If Jesus seems a little cranky here, he might be. He's thinking about John and himself and their two roles. “We played the flute and you did not dance, we wailed and you did not mourn” represent two ways of looking at John and Jesus. On the one hand, the joyful flute players represent Jesus and his joyful announcement of the coming kingdom, while the wailers represent John and his dour foretelling of coming judgment. On the other hand, the flute players in the story can represent those who wanted John to be more joyful while those who wailed want to see Jesus stop preaching good news and mourn. Either way, both are attacked – John because he didn't eat or drink and therefore had a demon, and Jesus because he ate, drank, and mixed with the wrong people and was therefore a glutton and drunkard. With this hypocrisy and double standard, it's no wonder Jesus was a tad cranky.

The lectionary starts there with Jesus calling out the people for their double standards, and then it skips over several verses. In the omitted portion, cranky Jesus berates the people of a few towns. He says, “Woe to you Bethsaida and Capernaum. If the deeds of power done there had been done in Tyre, Sidon, or even Sodom, they would have repented. As it is, it will be worse for you on the day of judgment than for those cities.”

The lectionary reading then picks up with Jesus giving thanks for those who choose to follow him and for those whom Jesus chooses to reveal himself to. And it's here where we get to the heart of today's passage: “Come to me all you who are weary and heavy laden and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you . . . for my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” This, along with the 23^rd Psalm, has to be one of the most comforting passages in all of scripture – my yoke is easy and my burden is light.

But is it?

Because for the last three weeks we've heard Jesus tell the apostles things like: I am sending you out like sheep among wolves; you will be handed over to councils and flogged in their synagogues; you will be dragged before governors and kings; brother will betray brother to death; children will rise against parents and have them put to death; you will be hated by all; and a variety of other dire and deadly predictions. This doesn't sound like his yoke is easy and his burden light. On the contrary, this very much sounds hard and heavy.

But context is everything.

Whereas those dire and deadly predictions of Chapter 10 were addressed to the apostles about what they would face as they headed out into the world, today's comforting words are addressed to listeners after Jesus goes off about John, how the two of them are treated, and a lack of repentance by the people of Israel. They could also foreshadow his upcoming conflicts with the Pharisees over issues about the Law in Chapter 12.

As cranky as Jesus seems to be in Chapter 11, he's putting forth the idea that by following him in word and deed, by taking his yoke upon you, he has a way of making your burdens lighter – not non-existent, but lighter.

Take, for instance, the yoke of worship. A yoke, as you all know, is a harness connecting animals together and to a load. In a broad context, it represents servitude or duty. The Catechism states that the duty of all Christians is to come together week by week for corporate worship. The Baptismal Covenant asks, “Will you continue in the apostles' teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of bread, and in the prayers?” In other words, “Will you be faithful in worship?” Worship is a duty, a yoke, that we take upon us.

The burden of that worship is relatively light: one day a week for 90 minutes. Yet some people see it as so burdensome they choose not to attend. But isn't it in worship where we feel relief, uplifted, and recharged? Isn't it in worship where the world falls away and we can reconnect with God in a way we don't get to during the week? It's in worship where we share the burdens of our life with Christ and each other.

Or take what Jesus addressed earlier, the role of repentance. We all have sins that we carry through the days, weeks, months, or years. Those sins can have a way of eating away at us and weighing us down. The yoke of repentance allows us to honestly admit our errors, to make a right beginning, and (if necessary) make restitution or reparations. In doing these things the yoke of repentance allows Christ to lighten our burdens so we can live more fully in him and with others.

One thing in all of this we need to remember: Jesus never says he will remove our burdens. He never says his path will be easy. We are still asked to take up our cross. We are still asked to sacrifice our selves for him. We are still asked to prioritize our life with God at the head. But Jesus reminds us here that his yoke – the yoke of worship, the yoke of discipleship, the yoke of servanthood – is easy because we do these things in his name. There are plenty of things in my life that have not been easy and have been difficult, but because I've done them with Jesus as the priority they have been easier than otherwise.

And as for burdens being light, Jesus never asks us to do this alone. And that, I think, is the key. Someone once told me, with regard to the death of a spouse, “I don't know how anyone without a faith community does this.” Jesus called twelve men, not one. He sent them out in pairs, not as individuals. He knew the value of community and the support it offered. And yes, families – biological or otherwise – and communities can be weird and difficult. But they also offer a level of support that allows us to share our burdens, thereby making them lighter for each of us.

Chapter 11 is the “cranky Jesus” chapter; apparently even Jesus had a bad day. But maybe that's what makes these words of comfort even more comforting: that even in the midst of being cranky we can find a place of lightened burdens. And maybe it can remind us to turn to Jesus and his community of believers when things get rough. And maybe we will remember that, no matter what we are going through, the Church that Jesus established, the Church we are yoked to, will always be here to help lighten our burdens.

Amen.

Sermon; Proper 8A; Matt. 10:40-42

Today we get the final set of instructions from Jesus to the apostles – to us – before they (we) go out on their (our) mission to proclaim, cure, cleanse, and raise. These instructions started two weeks ago when Jesus said to take no gold or silver or two tunics. They go on to warn about being dragged before authorities and to not be afraid of all that happens because of your proclamations. Those instructions end on a relatively happy note today with Jesus talking about welcome and rewards.

On the one hand, Jesus is talking about those who welcome the apostles – “Whoever welcomes you welcomes me . . .” He's basically saying that anyone who welcomes the apostles is opening themselves up to receiving the presence of God. But also embedded in this statement is that Christ can be found in all people – welcoming people means welcoming Christ. And that has implications for not only how we are welcomed by others, but by how others are welcomed by us.

“Then God said, 'Let us make humankind in our image, according to our likeness'.”

Humans were made in the likeness of God. That means every human – black, brown, white, male, female, native, foreigner, old, young, and everything in-between – bears the imago dei, the image of God. For us, that means we need to remember that when we welcome someone into our midst we are welcoming Christ into our midst. More than anyone else, we should remember this and welcome people as if we would welcome Christ himself.

Jesus closes out these travel instructions by saying whoever gives a cup of cold water to one of these little ones will not lose their reward. There's a long tradition in the Church that Jesus isn't talking about children, but that “little ones” refers to those who are new to the faith. That could be new converts or people exploring and testing. The cup of cold water symbolizes the very least of what a person can give to someone in need. The implication isn't to give the absolute minimum, but that everyone can at least give something small. Kind of like our collection baskets for the Food Pantry. None of us are being asked to supply vast amounts of hygiene products, but you are being reminded that everyone can supply at least one hygiene item every time you go grocery shopping.

This bit about giving cold water also foreshadows Chapter 25 where Jesus separates the sheep from the goats. In that final judgment the verdict from Christ rests on whatever you did or did not do the the least of these you did or did not do to Christ himself. Despite what some people may say and preach, we will not lose our reward by showing hospitality and welcome to people – even those whom society identifies as being outside the bounds of receiving hospitality.

All of this welcoming, however, is only the middle point of something much larger. It's also the easiest thing we can do. After all, how hard is it to welcome someone new to Saint Luke's? How hard is it to smile, say, “We're glad you're here,” help them find their way through the red book, blue book, and black book, and when to stand up, sit down, fight fight fight? That's the least we can do. That's a cup of cold water given to a little one. It's more difficult to do the other things.

We are apostles of Christ. We are called to proclaim, cleanse, cure, and raise. As I've been saying, we do those things through invitation. We aren't here to berate people or hit them over the head with our big, floppy prayer books. We aren't here to tell them what sorts of miserable sinners they are and they had better get their lives straightened out with Jesus.

We are here to invite them into a new way of being. We are here to eat and be with those whom society dubs sinners. We are here to share our story and invite them to join us on this journey. Doing that requires that we know our stories. We need to know our story of how we got here and why we stay. We need to be ready to show people a new way of being. And that new way is first proclaimed through invitation.

After the invitation comes the welcome. We invite people into our midst and then we welcome them when they accept that invitation. That welcome is honest, heartfelt, and not tied to drafting them to teach Sunday school or serve on the Reception Committee for ever and ever amen.

The last part of this scenario is connection. How do we connect with people in such a way as to make them part of this place? Because it's connection that will lead to people staying. Opportunities to learn about the parish, the Church, scripture, and the faith are critical. Not only must those opportunities exist, but those already part of this must be willing to participate. Having an outreach which the parish supports is also important because “church” is more than about us. Jesus didn't only eat with his twelve disciples, he ate with outsiders in an attempt to connect with them.

Connecting with people also entails learning about them – their likes, dislikes, history, and the rest. And then inviting them to participate more deeply or inviting them to be part of a team.

Using our time together to connect with each other helps bind us together. Last week I asked you to begin sharing stories of your faith. This was to help you develop your TED Talk so when the opportunity presents itself you'll be ready. It's also to help you feel comfortable in both asking and answering questions about faith. These stories are the glue that binds us together.

Finally, how do we connect with others already here Monday through Friday? Do we call on people if they've missed a Sunday or two? Do we invite church people to personal events? Connecting might be the most difficult of these three aspects because connecting with people, even people we know, asks us to open up, be vulnerable, and take risks.

We are apostles of Christ. We have been called to proclaim, cleanse, cure, and raise. We have been called to invite people into a new way of being. We have been called to welcome people into our midst as if we were welcoming Christ himself. And we have been called to connect with people in ways that bind all of us together just as our individual body parts are bound together in one body.

To borrow a famous quote, “Nothing worth having comes easy.” If this place and this faith is worth having, then we need to work at it. We need to do the work of inviting, welcoming, and connecting. We need to remember that we are apostles of Christ and we have been sent to proclaim, cleanse, cure, and raise. And we need to not be afraid.

So go forth from here, knowing you have been sent out by Christ to offer cups of water to a thirsty world that desperately needs a drink.

Amen.

Sermon; Proper 7A; Matt. 10:24-39

Last week we had Jesus commissioning the twelve apostles to go and proclaim, cure, cleanse, and raise. After their commissioning Jesus gives a set of instructions which began in last week's gospel passage, continues today, and will conclude next week. These instructions include what they are to do as well as what they can expect in opposition to their message.

This sending now applies to us. The word “apostle,” remember, essentially means, “one who is sent.” As the apostles were sent out to proclaim, cure, cleanse, and raise, we – you and I – are being sent out to proclaim, cure, cleanse, and raise. We are Christ's apostles in the here and now.

That sending is based on invitation, not on coercion. Remember that whole thing of Jesus eating with sinners? That is our blueprint. We are to meet people where they are, share our stories, and invite them into a new way of being. If they don't accept the invitation, we keep it open without berating them.

These instruction of Jesus also come with warnings and some dire predictions. You will be handed over to the authorities. Family members will betray each other. You will be hated because of my name. If they attack the master, they will attack you. And more.

There are at least two negative outcomes to all this. One is that Christians will find excuses to claim they are being persecuted. This is almost always false, especially in the context which we live. Some Christians will claim they are being persecuted for their beliefs about women, minorities, lgbtq people, etc. They aren't being persecuted, they're simply being called out for mistreating those people. It falls under the, “I'm being persecuted because I'm not allowed to persecute people I don't like.” So claims of false persecution is one outcome.

A second outcome is that we hear this stuff about actual persecution, being dragged before the authorities, families turning on each other, and whatever else Jesus says and we might decide we want no part of that. We might decide it's safer to keep our mouth shut. So we decide not to say anything out of fear.

First of all, being called to account for persecuting and mistreating others doesn't mean you are being persecuted. Another way of thinking about it is that you aren't losing rights if others are allowed to have the same rights as you.

And second, with all of Jesus' talk about persecution and fights and whatnot, notice that three times Jesus says to not be afraid. No matter what opposition you encounter, do not be afraid to proclaim, cure, cleanse, and raise.

If I were to guess, most of us probably don't believe we are being persecuted. But most of us are probably afraid to proclaim the good news, not for fear of being persecuted, but out of fear of being obnoxious, or rude, or not knowing what to say. We've all probably experienced an . . . over zealous . . . person who wanted to make sure we had found Jesus. Or we've answered the door to greet two people trying earnestly to give us religious tracts. These images or memories come up and we decide we don't want to be that person. So we don't say anything.

But saying nothing isn't an option. We have been called by Jesus to proclaim, cure, cleanse, and raise.

In thinking about proclaiming the good news, there are two things to keep in mind. The first is to know your story.

Who was instrumental in your faith formation? What attracted you to, or keeps you engaged, in the faith, in Church, and in this parish? If you know, when did you know this was the place for you? How do you continue to be shaped by your faith? Know the Who, What, When, and How of your story.

These are the basics of your elevator speech or TED Talk that you can develop and use when talking about faith and proclaiming the good news. These are the things that you should know and be comfortable in sharing. The more familiar you are with your story, the more confident you will be in sharing it. And it's through sharing your story that invitations can be made.

But that's only half of it. The second part is to listen.

People get defensive or they shut down if you start pitching religion to them. When I go visit bars, I never start a conversation by saying, “Do you know Jesus Christ as your personal Lord and Savior?” Nor do I open with, “Have you tried hanging out at Saint Luke's instead of the bar?” Neither of those will get me anywhere.

But what I DO do is listen. I listen for the question. Things like, “Why are you here?” “What church are you from?” Where's Saint Luke's?” “Is that Catholic?” “What's an Episcopalian?”

Those questions, and others, are an opening to tell my story. They are an opening to invite the other person to explore faith questions with me. They are an opening to invite them to consider Saint Luke's. And sometimes the question comes in the form of a statement. Such as, “I spend time with God when I'm up in the mountains.” You have to listen well enough to know when a person is open to talking about faith. And then you have to know your story to both answer their questions and peak their interest.

Jesus sent the apostles out to proclaim, cure, cleanse, and raise. Having Jesus as their example this mission revolved around invitation. We are now the apostles of Christ. We are now the ones being sent out to proclaim, cure, cleanse, and raise. We are the ones to invite people into a new way of being.

To do that, though, we must know our own stories. We must be comfortable enough with those stories that we are willing to share them with others. And we must know how to listen for the questions that indicate they want to hear more. That can be uncomfortable. It can make us nervous. So we're going to start practicing. At coffee hour, or with your breakfast bunch, ask someone a question about Saint Luke's, Church in general, or faith. And then answer the question asked of you. So one time you'll ask, another time you'll answer. This is how we will learn to not be afraid of proclaiming the good news. After all, if you can't share it here among people with whom you worship together, where will you share it?

You are apostles. You are being sent out in the name of Christ to proclaim, cure, cleanse, and raise. So know your story. Know how to listen for the question. And be not afraid.

Amen.