Sermon; Proper 22A; Matt. 21:33-46

A couple of weeks ago I pointed out that Chapter 19 in Matthew is the turning point from the general ministry of Jesus to his move to Jerusalem. The parables he tells from that point on show how radically different the kingdom of heaven is compared to the rest of the world. That radical difference was first demonstrated with the parable of the generous landowner and how he treated laborers called at 6, 9, noon, 3, and 5.

As Amy mentioned last week, Jesus is now in Jerusalem and the parables from today and last week take place during Holy Week. Jesus has ridden into town on a donkey, overturned tables in the temple, and withered a fig tree. And while these parables were addressed to the crowds around Jesus, they were really pointed at the chief priests and Pharisees.

Last week's parable, even though talking about tax collectors and prostitutes entering the kingdom of heaven ahead of the chief priests and Pharisees, was relatively tame when compared to today's parable.

Pulling from the well-known passage in Isaiah that we heard earlier, Jesus connects the dots of a landowner (God) who planted a vineyard (Israel) and sent slaves (prophets) to collect what was his, eventually sending his own son (Jesus). But the tenants (religious leaders) mistreated and killed those sent, including the son. Jesus asks, “What will the landowner do?” And it's the people who respond, “He will put those wretches to a miserable death and lease it to others.”

This violent ending could be a reference to the destruction of the temple by the Romans in the year 70 and the rise of Christianity afterward. Could be . . . not IS.

For centuries Christians have used this passage as proof that we have replaced the Jews as God's chosen people. For centuries Christians have used this passage as giving permission to “put those wretches to a miserable death.” And for centuries this passage has been foundational to Christian exceptionalism and the misguided theology of supersessionism – the flawed theology stating that Christians and the Church have become the chosen people of God, not the Jewish people. And if you want to know how that feels, know that Islam has taught that it is the final expression of the Abrahamic faiths and supersedes both Judaism and Christianity.

There are two particular points we need to pay attention to here. The first is that this parable isn't about the removal of one group of people in favor of another group of people. Instead this parable is about a lack of faithfulness and a refusal to acknowledge God as the rightful owner of the vineyard by the tenants – whoever those tenants are.

We must remember that we are the tenants in God's vineyard. We are the laborers in the field. The field and the harvest do not belong to us, but to God. And when we begin thinking that the field and harvest belong to us, we get in trouble.

Our goal is to produce fruits for the kingdom. That means everything we do is, or should be, outwardly focused. Whether that's worship with our focus on God, ministries that focus on others, or even inviting people into this place, we do it with an eye to the other. The Catechism says the duty of all Christians is to work, pray, and give for the spread of the kingdom. Pledge cards went out last week. Those pledge cards are representative of your outward focus. The living water I wrote about a few weeks ago flows out from us to nourish others. And, for the third year in a row, our Hoedown intake increased precisely because it goes out.

But when we turn inward, when we want to keep everything for ourselves, we become like the tenants in the parable who will mistreat anyone and everyone in the name of greed. And where will that leave us? It will leave us rejecting God and being crushed by our refusal to do the will of God.

The second thing to note about this parable is that it's not about what the landowner WILL do – because what he will do was assumed by the crowd – but it's about what he DID do.

What did the landowner do? He kept trying. He sent three slaves at first. When that didn't work, he sent even more than he did at first. Then he sent his son. The landowner keeps trying. Over and over he sends people in an effort to get them to uphold their end of the bargain and call them back into that original relationship.

If we look at this in a religious context, God sent prophet after prophet to call his people to faithfully return what God has faithfully given. Ultimately God sends the Son. Even after Jesus is crucified, the Son is sent again in resurrected form. And then, even after that, God sends us. As it says in Eucharistic Prayer C: “Again and again you called us to return. Through prophets and sages . . . and in the fullness of time you sent your only Son.”

Seen from this point of view, we once again see God's love and grace as pi – not as a pie with limited slices, but as pi – 3.1415926535 . . . . irrational and never-ending.

This parable reminds us that we live and work in God's vineyard. It reminds us that we give from the gifts given us. It reminds us to live not for ourselves but for him who lived and died for us. We do better when we don't hoard.

As I mentioned briefly, and looking back over the last three Hoedowns, the amount of profit has increased every year since we decided to give some money away. Looking forward, as we consider our pledges of time, talent, and treasure, are we gratefully giving from our abundance? Or are we merely doling out the leftovers, afraid to give, love, or lose too much?

If you see this parable as a condemnation of those tenants who were self-focused and not God-focused, beware that you have not become the tenants who will be replaced. If you can see this parable as a story of God's abundant and irrational generosity, are you willing to live in the same manner, generously giving to God and others?

Jesus is in Jerusalem, moving ever closer to betrayal, desertion, and death. Yet even here at the end, he is still trying to get us to live into generous acts of love until, finally, he lovingly gives himself up for our sake.

Are we not called to do the same?

Amen.

Sermon; Proper 20A; Matt. 20:1-16

For the past several weeks we have been focused on the new community of Christ. From parables about the nearness and surprising nature of the kingdom of heaven to its abundance to the need for Jesus in storms to what defiles us to a confession of who Jesus is to forgiveness, we have been learning about the nature of this new community. But now things are changing.

Chapter 18 concludes Jesus' Galilean ministry and now, beginning with Chapter 19, he begins moving to Jerusalem and the cross. Every gospel has a turning point, and in Matthew it's Chapter 19. In this journey to Jerusalem we will see Jesus tested, hear about the expansiveness of God, and learn of obstacles that work to keep us out of the kingdom. Chapter 19 works to show us how radically different the kingdom of heaven is from the world in which we live, and that difference carries over into Chapter 20 and today's gospel.

The first thing we need to know about the parable of the landowner and laborers is that it is not designed to be a business plan. It is not a crash course on Christian economics. It is certainly not endorsed by the Wharton School of Business. What it is is a plot device to show how radically different the kingdom of heaven is. It's designed to make us think differently about the kingdom, about God, about others, and about ourselves. With that in mind, there are two points I want to highlight.

The first is to notice that the landowner is concerned for the laborers. Nowhere in this parable is the landowner concerned for crop or profit. Not once does the parable mention planting, weeding, or harvesting. Jesus' only focus is on the laborers – those called early in the morning, mid-morning, afternoon, and at the end of the day.

This parable is only concerned with the well-being of the laborers – ALL the laborers. The landowner is a symbol for God, showing us some of the character of God. In this parable we are shown that God cares not only for those who have been with him from the beginning, but also for those who come to him late. It shows that God cares not only for the respectable people (those who are hire-able), but also for those whom society ignores and refuses to hire/employ. Those last people who the landowner called to work in his vineyard are the leftovers, the ones no one else wanted; but God wants them.

The question for us with this interpretation is this: How do we, will we, can we, invite and provide dignity to those whom no one else wants? Because it's not just a matter of getting people in the pews, it's also a matter of identifying and using their talents so they feel useful, needed, and wanted.

A second thing to note is the reaction of some of the laborers. There was a group of them, the first called, who could see neither the generosity of the landowner nor the value of the late-comers. The all-dayers, instead of being happy that the undesirables had been picked up and provided for, could only see scarcity in what they received. If the short-timers were given more than they expected, then surely I should be given more than I expect as well. But in fact, everyone was cared for and provided for as needed.

Another way of looking at this is in churches themselves. It's really any organization, but I'll use churches. It may be that the biggest threat to a congregation's existence is the refusal to include new people. We have been doing things a certain way for so long that when someone new suggests a new or different way, they are immediately shut down. Maybe we do it out of fear of change. Maybe we do it out of the fear we'll be replaced. Maybe we do it out of the fear that newbies just don't understand. Whatever the reason, there's an undercurrent that newbies have to pay their dues and then behave exactly like we want them to. After all, who are they that they should enjoy the same benefits and privileges as us?

The landowner addressed the all-dayers by saying, “Are you envious because I am generous?” Another way of saying that is, “Does my generosity expose the poverty in your own heart?”

This parable highlights the abundant mindset of God over the scarcity mindset of people. God rains abundant blessings upon all of us, yet some people continue to ask, “Why am I getting wet?”

This parable points out (at least) two things. The first is that God seeks out and welcomes everyone into the kingdom, both those who have labored from the beginning and those who have just arrived. For us this means that we should also seek out and welcome everyone – whether your grandparents helped build this church or if you are here for the first time. Like God, we should be concerned for all people and strive to ensure no one is left out.

The second is to focus on abundance not scarcity. Rather than see new people or late-comers as taking away from our rightful rewards, we need to be grateful that they can share with us in the blessings God bestows. We need to remember that what God has to give us is like pi – not A pie with limited pieces, but like 3.1415926535. What God gives is irrational and never-ending.

Finally, while not the Easter season, this is really an Easter parable. On Easter Christ was victorious over death and the grave. On Easter we were all given an invitation into that new life. This parable served as the anchor of St. John Chrysostom's famous Easter sermon. Tradition says it was written around 400 ce, and Eastern Orthodox (and some other churches) tradition is to read it every year at the Easter Vigil. Here's part of that sermon:

Whoever has toiled from the first hour, receive today your just settlement. If any came after the third hour, celebrate gratefully. If any of you arrived after the sixth, have no misgivings, you have lost nothing. If some have been as late as the ninth, come forward, do not be at a loss. If any of you have arrived only at the eleventh hour, do not be dismayed for being late. The Master is gracious; he accepts the last even as the first; he gives rest to those of the eleventh as well as to those who have labored from the first.

So let us heed the words of this parable and generously welcome all those who enter this place, remembering it is not how long we've been here that makes us special, but that we are special because we are here. And let us be as generous as the landowner when inviting others into this vineyard.

Amen.

Sermon; Proper 19A; Matt. 18:21-35

Last week we heard Jesus lay out specific steps in a forgiveness process. This week the forgiveness discussion continues when Peter asks, “If another member of the Church sins against me, how often should I forgive? Seven times?”

Jesus responds, “Not seven times, but seventy-seven times.”

I need to point out that some translations render this as, “If my BROTHER sins against me . . .” which puts a more personal spin on this. I'm sure that Peter was the older brother and was asking Jesus how many times he needed to forgive Andrew when he was being a jerk. Other translations, like the one we heard today, replace brother with “member of the Church,” thereby focusing on how we live in community with each other.

But whether we're dealing with a family member, a member of our congregation, a friend, a coworker, or an acquaintance, we're still dealing with sin and forgiveness. Three of our four readings today deal with this topic.

The reading from Genesis is the climactic ending to the story of Joseph and his brothers. Spared from death by Reuben at the hands of his brothers, Joseph gets sold into slavery. In his new life, he eventually rises to become the second most powerful man in Egypt. Because of a famine, the brothers go looking for food, encounter their long-lost brother, and are terrified that he's going to take revenge on them. But Joseph is able to forgive them and save them from the famine.

Psalm 103 is a psalm of praise to the Lord for the power of forgiveness, and it recognizes that God is fundamentally forgiving.

And today's gospel gives us one of the best known parables about forgiveness.

Forgiveness is a major part of today's readings. Forgiveness is a major part of our faith. And, because there are no coincidences, it's no accident that we get these readings during the time of 9/11.

With that in mind, there are two aspects about forgiveness that I want to address. The first is a story Mtr. Ann told at last week's Wednesday Night BBQ. She said it came from a Methodist pastor and it goes something like this (with a few modifications by me):

A priest noticed a parishioner seemed to be troubled and was walking slowly as if she was carrying a heavy burden. “What's the matter?” the priest asked.

"A friend has hurt me deeply,” she said.

The priest said, “Did your friend hurt you this much?” and picked up a large rock.

“No,” she said. Then she picked up a much larger rock and said, “This much.”

“Carry that large rock and try to walk with graceful steps and poise,” said the priest.

She tried to walk with the large rock, but staggered and struggled.

The priest said, “At first your friend hurt you, but now it is the stone that is hurting you. The stone is your judgment of how much your friend hurt you. Now put down the rock. That is forgiveness – putting down the burden. You are still hurt, but you no longer carry the burden with you.”

She put the stone down and said, “I understand – if I forgive my friend for hurting me, then I will have set the rock down and will be free.”

“Not yet,” said the priest. “You will not be truly free until you have set it down seventy-seven times and no longer wish to pick it up.”

Sometimes we want to pick up the stone of hurt even after we have forgiven someone because it reminds us of how we were treated and it gives us permission to live with that hurt. It may be that it's only after seventy-seven times of forgiving that we no longer dwell on how we were injured.

The second is a recognition that forcing the injured to forgive without requiring accountability, reparation, restitution, or a change of behavior by the perpetrator can lead to continued oppression. If we require a person who has been harmed to “forgive and forget,” or “forgive and move on” while allowing perpetrators to retain wealth, status, power, positions of authority, etc., it is no longer forgiveness. It becomes a demand on the vulnerable to comfort the perpetrator. Think of any number of church scandals where clergy or other leaders kept their positions while those they harmed were forced to remain in their presence or leave the church.

Forced forgiveness from the injured without accountability by the sinner is just another form of abuse. Confession without repentance, without a change in behavior, is just a series of empty words.

When we forgive, it must be of our own free will and not forced upon us. When we forgive, it is for our own mental and spiritual well-being, recognizing that we can't continue to carry that hurt, that rock, around. And if we are the ones who threw the rock, who sinned against another, we need to be willing to confess our sin with a willingness to repent – change our behavior, and make atonement and reparations if necessary.

Confession, repentance, and forgiveness don't always go hand in hand. Sometimes we confess our wrongdoing without ever receiving forgiveness. Sometimes we forgive another without them ever changing. But when confession and repentance work together, it's a beautiful thing.

Regardless of the other person, are there stones in your life that you need to put down?

Amen.

Sermon; Proper 18A; Matthew 18:15-20

The gospel story of Jesus is all about God doing a new thing. In Matthew and Luke we hear the story of the Incarnation – God coming to live among us as a human. But God did not come in the form of a warrior king with power and might; instead, God came in the form of a vulnerable baby, weak, needing the parental care of Mary & Joseph, and eventually growing up into the man known as Jesus. And as we read through Matthew about the life of Jesus we hear stories of temptation, healing, teaching, calls, and conflicts. Then we get to Chapter 13 where Jesus begins to do something new – he begins teaching in parables, specifically parables about the kingdom of heaven.

The parables lay the groundwork for showing what the kingdom of heaven is like AND that the kingdom of heaven is here among us if we open our eyes and hearts. These kingdom parables and the things that follow are focused on the new community Jesus is trying to establish. From ensuring everyone is fed and cared for to remembering that we'll sink without Jesus with us to paying attention to what spews from our mouths, Jesus is showing us what this new community can and should be.

But as we saw last week, following Christ and working to establish this new kingdom isn't without difficulties. Jesus himself said he would be put to death, to which Peter objected and the stone on which the Church would be built became a stumbling block to Jesus. We were told that we must take up our cross if we were to become his followers. And we were reminded that if we are to follow Christ then we must FOLLOW him to where he leads and not try to lead him to where we want him to go.

At the beginning of Chapter 18 the disciples want to know who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. In response, Jesus brings a child into the circle and says, “Whoever becomes humble like this child is the greatest, and whoever welcomes a child in my name welcomes me.” He goes on to tell his disciples not to despise the little ones and then he tells the story of the shepherd going off to find the lone lost sheep and that it is God's will to not lose a single little one.

This all leads into today's gospel passage where Jesus is talking about sin and reconciliation.

For all of our talk about loving our neighbors, living in community, being part of the body of Christ with him as our sure foundation, the truth is that we still exhibit very human traits and behaviors. We tend to place our own wants before our neighbors' needs. Community is there for what we can get out of it. We too easily remove people not like us. Greed, lust, envy, and other sinful acts destroy foundational principles. Church, unfortunately, is not always apple pie, ice cream, and smooth sailing.

Knowing that things in community can get messy, Jesus gives us a process for reconciliation. It is persistent. It is time consuming. And it follows specific steps.

If a member of the Church sins against you, meet with them in private to explain how you have been hurt. If they refuse to acknowledge their part, take witnesses. If that doesn't work, bring it to the church body. And if THAT doesn't work, treat them as a Gentile and tax collector.

These are hard things to do. It's hard to confront someone. It's hard to remain calm and be a non-anxious presence. It's hard to work toward reconciliation. It's hard to continue being in the presence of one who sinned against you. It's hard for us to work through a process that is focused on restoration and not revenge.

This process is what the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of South Africa, which was led by Abp. Desmond Tutu, did. They focused on restoration, reparations, and restorative justice, not revenge. That takes hard work. It requires one party to acknowledge their sin and then want to repair the damage, and it requires the other party to refrain from focusing on revenge.

But if, in the end, there can be no reconciliation, no restoration, then we are to treat the offender as a Gentile and tax collector. Which, on its surface, means that we are to treat them as outsiders and traitors, as people we shouldn't associate with.

In today's gospel Jesus gives us a blueprint for handling conflict in the Church. In an ideal world this would work every time. But we don't live in an ideal world and we aren't ideal people. We get blinded by pride. We think admitting errors and sin is weak. We hate confrontation, so we just let it drop. It would seem that treating them as Gentiles and tax collectors, as outsiders whom we should ignore, might be the way to go.

But on closer examination that's not the case. Earlier in this chapter Jesus talked about welcoming the little ones. This could refer to children, but it could also refer to people new to the faith. So it has a double meaning: little ones in body and little ones in spirit. Both of these people have been considered outsiders and both have been pushed out and/or ignored . . . like Gentiles and tax collectors.

If we think of the Gentiles and tax collectors like little ones or the sheep that went astray, then we can follow Jesus' example and reach out to them, offering them a new community in which to live.

This isn't just Jesus doing some new fangled thing by working to include outsiders and not giving up on them. This is a God thing as well. We heard it in the reading from Ezekiel: As I live, says the Lord God, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but that the wicked turn from their ways and live.

To treat a person as a Gentile or tax collector is to leave the door open. It's to remind them that there is a place for them in this new community of Christ. It's to welcome them as an equal partner on this journey of discipleship. It's to sit with them and eat with them. It's to recognize that they are created in the image of God just as we have been created in the image of God.

We may not be able to follow through on these steps of reconciliation. We may have difficulty with people who have sinned against us – sometimes rightfully so. We may harbor hurt feelings and be wary around their presence. Life is messy and not always easy. But one thing we should be able to do is to leave the door open to possibilities. We should be willing to leave the door open to God doing a new thing.

And maybe being willing to leave the door open for God to do a new thing is the most important thing we can do.

Amen.

Sermon; Proper 16A; Matt. 16:13-20

For the past several weeks we have been learning about the new community Jesus is trying to establish. We've heard kingdom parables telling us the Kingdom of Heaven is very near, that it can make big changes with big results, and that it offers unexpected joy. We have seen how, when we live into God's abundance, everyone has a place and everyone is cared for. We have learned that following Christ won't save us from storms, but with Christ in our midst we will be kept from drowning. And we have learned that outside forces – be they foreigners, women, sexuality, other religions, trans people, or breaking long-held traditions – can't contaminate us, but that what contaminates us are evil thoughts, words, and actions that spew forth from us.

Everything Jesus has taught and shown, everything we have learned up to this point, all comes to a focal point in today's gospel passage. After everything from the parables to the Canaanite woman, Jesus asks the disciples, “Who do people say that I am?” What comes is a flurry of answers – everything from a reanimated John the Baptist to the return of a great prophet.

Okay . . . okay . . . “But who do YOU say I am?” These two questions – “Who do people say Jesus is?” and, “Who do you say Jesus is?” – are still relevant today.

The answers today are probably very similar to what the disciples said: friend, prophet, teacher, healer, miracle worker, Son of God, second person of the Trinity, Messiah, imaginary. The answers given reflect a person's understanding of Jesus. But the question isn't a poll to find common or popular answers. This isn't Family Feud: “Who do people say Jesus is? Top five answers are on the board.”

The point of the two questions is to differentiate between how the world sees Jesus and how we, through eyes of faith, see Jesus.

We might be tempted to pooh-pooh most of those answers, but the reality is is that the whole of Jesus encompasses all of those answers – with the exception of “imaginary.” There are certainly grains of truth in each of those descriptions, but individual truths are not the whole Truth of who Jesus is. The problem, though, is that people tend to force Jesus onto their preconceived notion of who Jesus is.

As an example: Part of who Jesus is is Christus Victor, King of kings, and Lord of lords. From his mouth comes a sharp sword with which to strike down the nations, and he will rule with a rod of iron. There are those who only see that image when talking about Jesus and they neglect the Christ who shows mercy, who heals and feeds, who is compassionate. They have turned Jesus from a window which we see the kingdom of God into a mirror that reflects their desires and biases. In short, they turn Jesus into an idol of their own making.

This confession of Peter's, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God,” has three parts to it.

First, in calling Jesus “Messiah,” Peter recognizes that he is the one who will save a world in peril. As Jesus saved and healed the sick, lame, and deaf, as Jesus welcomed outcasts back into the body of the community, as Jesus saved a drowning Peter, so he will save the world at large. Our faith tells us that the fate of the world is already determined, that God will save those who choose to follow, and that the person doing the saving is Christ.

The second part of this confession is that Jesus, as the Son, is part of the very nature of God. I won't say this is part of early Trinitarian theology, but it is one piece that the Church Fathers picked up on in developing our understanding of God. When we say that Jesus is “true God from true God, of one Being with the Father,” we can look to this confession. And being the Son of the LIVING God recognizes that God is active, giving life to all creatures, creating and sustaining life. The living God is no human invention, no molded idol of clay, but a living being who is, was, and ever shall be.

The third part of this confession is that it is the result of a relationship. Peter made this confession that was revealed to him by God. We do not make this type of confession by reading commentaries and treatises. We don't make it through comparative religion studies. Although spending time in study is part of it – remember, Jesus was a teacher. This confession was made because God drew Peter to him through Jesus. God also drew near to Peter through Jesus. And it is through Jesus that there is community, intimacy, and relationships. His confession is the expression of that relationship.

When we talk to people about God, Jesus, or the Church (not IF we talk to people, but WHEN we talk to people), it's important to keep all of this in mind:

1. Jesus is more than the sum of his parts, his is more than a mirror reflecting our desires of who we want him to be, and he is the Savior of the world;

2. Jesus is part of the Triune God – Creator, Redeemer, Sanctifier. That living God is active in our lives, in our community, and in our world;

3. Understand that we are in a relationship with Christ and how we treat that relationship will determine how we talk about Christ with others.

May we, like Peter, put all of this together in a confession that causes Jesus to respond to us by saying, “Blessed are you.”

Amen. 

Sermon; Proper 15A; Matt. 15:10-28

Once again we have a gospel reading that skips over an important piece of scripture. In Chapter 14 we see the transition from old to new. We see the kingdom of heaven Jesus has been preaching on come to fulfillment with the presence of God's abundance and the feeding of the 5000. And we see the boat in the storm as a metaphor for the new community needing Christ in its midst.

Now, in Chapter 15, we begin to see this new community evolve in a variety of ways. But as I said, the lectionary skips over some critical information. After the incident in the boat, Jesus and the disciples end up in Gennesaret where he is recognized and people bring all those who were sick to be healed. Eventually some Pharisees and scribes arrive accusing his group of breaking tradition by not washing their hands before eating. This wasn't your mother's hand washing, or the hand washing we all did during COVID, but a symbolic hand washing to remove the stain of touching unclean things. Jesus responds by saying, “And why do you break the commandment of God for the sake of tradition?” then lays into them for their hypocrisy. And here is where we enter the story.

The first half of today's gospel has Jesus addressing the crowds in response to his confrontation with the Pharisees. In this new community Jesus is trying to establish, he uses the Pharisees and scribes as an example of how not to behave.

The Pharisees had advertised standards that they expected everyone to live by and were quick to call out anyone who didn't live up to those expectations. But they also managed to absolve themselves of any wrongdoing through this same tactic. It followed the pattern of seeing someone who offends your interpretation and then attack them vigorously and loudly, and accuse them of the very things you allow for yourself. Jesus responds to them by saying, “You want to know what defiles a person? It's what comes out of your mouth: evil intentions, murder, slander, theft, false witness.”

As this new community of Christ begins to take shape, Jesus is trying to establish some rules of behavior. What Jesus addressed then is just as valid today. Social media is a good place to start. It doesn't take much looking to find accounts who identify themselves as “Follower of Jesus,” or with tag lines of, “Love God, Be Kind,” “Celebrate life,” “Becoming the person I should be,” and other such wholesome bios with overly religious or kind sayings about respecting people, only to find they make comments on other pages about body-shaming, how terrible they look, or slapping them for having opinions. This happens in politics as well where people will state the most outlandish claims and lies in order to scare people or drive them into a sense of panic. Never mind that the truth is nowhere to be found – if you repeat the lie often enough, people will believe it.

I'm glad I'm not a kid these days, or have a young kid these days. We all know kids can be cruel, but in this age of cyberbullying it's been taken to an extreme. How many cases of suicide have there been because a child was driven to the breaking point and decided the only option was to die?

Claiming to be on the moral high ground while making personal attacks against those whom we don't like, find annoying, or don't meet our definition of “normal” puts us in the same group as the Pharisees whom Jesus was attacking for doing the very same thing.

And as if to drive this point home, this teaching about what comes out of the mouth proceeding from the heart and defiling us is followed by the encounter with the Canaanite woman.

The first thing to understand about this story is that Israelites and Canaanites were generational enemies. That hatred goes all the way back to Genesis 9 when Noah cursed Ham and his descendants, the Canaanites, after the flood. So this person who approached Jesus was 1) a foreigner, 2) a woman, 3) probably a single woman, and 4) a sworn enemy. Yet here she is begging Jesus for mercy.

Not only is she begging for mercy, but she recognizes who he is by calling him Lord and Son of David. But even when she uses this title, Jesus ignores her. This is reminiscent of Ps. 22:2 when the psalmist wrote, “O My God, I cry by day, but you do not answer.” Neither Jesus nor the disciples have time for this annoyance, so they do what they can to make her leave.

Yet she is persistent, coming to kneel before him. This humble act recalls others in this gospel who have knelt before him and acknowledged him as Lord and/or Savior – the magi, a leper, a synagogue leader, and the disciples in the boat last week.

In this exchange between Jesus and the woman we see a very uncomfortable image of Jesus. Here all of his humanity comes through – the biases against foreigners and women, and the desire to focus on me and my own first.

In one respect, Jesus is not wrong. The Son of God comes to the lost sheep of Israel. He has come to restore the relationship between God and his people. He is the person who is both the culmination of Israel's history and the point of contact for God in the world. With that in mind, Jesus rightly says, “I'm not for you.”

But humans can learn, and God can change God's mind. The Flood was a bad idea that God never repeated. God opted to not destroy Nineveh. And Jesus, prodded by this woman's plea, may have heard his own words from just a bit ago: “It isn't what goes into the mouth that defiles, but it is what comes out of the mouth from the heart that defiles.” O snap.

It's an odd feeling when a preacher realizes the words spoken are directed at themselves. This very well could have been Jesus' “Aha” moment. The moment when he realized his mission wasn't limited to Israel but was open to all who chose to follow him. As such, this is also the moment his disciples and the early Church recognize the same thing. This is also the natural progression of the new community Jesus is trying to establish.

In Chapter 13 we were given kingdom parables telling us the kingdom of heaven was very near and showing us what to look for. Chapter 14 showed us what the kingdom of heaven/new community of Christ could look like if we all cared for others as God cares with the feeding of the 5000. We saw the peace of Christ being with us in the boat. Today we saw how the community of Christ should behave to avoid defilement in our words and actions. And we see how this new community of Christ is to take in and welcome people we initially want no part of.

Both of today's passages – the issue of hand washing and the issue of the Canaanite woman – remind us that we cannot be contaminated or made less-than by outside circumstances, forces, genders, sexuality, nationalities, or any other difference we perceive. Both of these passages remind us that what defiles us, what contaminates us, what takes us away from the kingdom of heaven is how we speak about and treat others. We must always remember that we are reflective of the new community of Christ and the kingdom of heaven here on earth: a community that is present and attainable now, a community that lives in abundance, a community with Jesus at its center, a community with a morality of love, and a community that welcomes all who proclaim Christ above all.

Amen.

Sermon; Proper 14A; Matt. 14:22-33

In today's gospel we have the story of Jesus walking on the water. I have read a few interpretations saying that this is a misplaced post-resurrection story, but that may or may not be correct. Regardless if it was the resurrected Christ walking on the water, or if it was the human Jesus walking on the water, it still speaks to us and the Church today.

If you remember from last week's sermon I pointed out that Chapter 14 was moving us from the old into the new and was showing us how to live into the new community that Jesus is trying to create. The kingdom of heaven is like . . . a sower of abundance, an abundant harvest, something small that makes a big change, an unexpected treasure. After hearing what the kingdom of heaven is like, we saw that lived into with the feeding of the 5000 and the abundance of food for those gathered. Whether that was due to a miracle of physics or a miracle of generosity, the kingdom of heaven was present in that moment as all those gathered were both cared for and fed. This is really the first event of Christ's new community.

This new community, though, is about more than healing, feeding, and sharing. This new community is about that . . . the community of Jesus. And this story today is about the Church and who Jesus is.

Four of the disciples were fishermen, and Jesus spent a fair amount of time on the water and talking about fishing. As the Church grew and we started to build places to worship, we used this image as our guide. This is why traditional churches, like ours, are built like upside-down boats – the roof being the hull and the pews/nave (from naval and navy) is the deck.

Using that example, we are the disciples in the boat. Just as Jesus made the twelve disciples get into the boat, he has also made us get into this boat. That's not to say we were forced or coerced, but we have been called to be in this particular boat. Whether you have been an Episcopalian all your life, or you are just beginning to be part of this branch of Christianity, or whether you have been part of Saint Luke's for decades or just a few years or less, you have been called by Christ and placed in this boat.

It's important to remember that we aren't here because we all share the same ideas, like the historical society or other civic groups. We are here because God called us. Like the original twelve, we have been called into this place with all of our differences. In that respect, we are a peculiar people. We have been called into this boat and sent out into the stormy seas of life.

The disciples are sent out across the sea. But there arose a great storm that battered the boat and they weren't able to make any headway. Notice that the storm didn't stop until Jesus got into the boat. If this is a metaphor for the Church, what does that say about us?

We, like the disciples, can find ourselves in difficult times, battered by life's wild, restless seas. Whether that is job difficulties, family life, health issues, death, or any number of other things, we can feel like life is tossing us about. But when we have Jesus in the boat with us, those storms become manageable. I won't say we don't face storms, because we will. But with Jesus in the boat, there can be peace. We need to remember that.

One way to accomplish this is to intentionally put Jesus at the center. Is what we do being done with Jesus in the midst of us? Are we making decisions based on a Christ-centered discernment process? Do we spend time discerning how our actions will reflect the mind of Christ? When we are in the middle of a storm, do we take time to pray?

As an example, we begin and end every Vestry meeting with Evening Prayer and Compline. I got some push-back about that because “the Vestry should be dealing with the business of the church.” My response was to remind everyone that the Church is in the business of prayer and if we tried to do anything without being centered on Christ we aren't the Church. We need to remember that everything we do – from Sunday worship to Vestry meetings to the Harvest Hoedown to everything else – must be Christ centered in order to weather the storm.

Wrapped up in this story as metaphor for the Church is the incident with Peter. When Jesus comes to the disciples on the water, Peter says, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” Peter is essentially looking for an easy out. He's looking for Jesus to save him – and only him. He wants an individual miracle. So Peter leaves the boat.

If this story is a metaphor for the Church, then it is reminding us that the new community of Christ only works as a community. This whole thing isn't about individual salvation. Following Christ is much more than saying the magic words and then thinking all is good. We need to remember that we are in this boat together – when one person leaves the boat the community is diminished, and when we leave the boat, we are diminished.

I said this story is about the Church and also about who Jesus is.

For the Israelites, the sea represented chaos. It was uncontrollable and wild. Remember, Matthew, more than any other gospel, works hard to tie Jesus back to ancient Jewish roots, that Jesus is the fulfillment of the Jewish faith. For early readers of this gospel they couldn't help but see God in Jesus. From the story of creation where God controlled the chaos of the sea to Ps. 107:23-32 to the story of Jonah, we see God in control, and controlling, the natural elements. In this story Jesus does the same thing.

And in Matthew's nativity story, he writes, “Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel.” This is a mostly accurate translation of Isaiah 7:14 which says, “Look, the young woman is with child and shall bear a son and shall name him Immanuel.” Emmanuel means . . . what? . . . God is with us. In the stormy sea, when our boat is being battered by the wind and waves of life, we need to remember Jesus didn't put Peter back in the boat and leave – he got into the boat with them. Jesus is in the boat and God is with us.

This may be a story about the disciples in a boat in a storm and Jesus coming to them walking on water. But in the larger context, this is a story about life, the new community of Jesus, and the importance of remembering to always keep Jesus at the center of why we do what we do. Storms will batter us, but the peace of Christ can keep us from sinking – if we remember to live as a community that keeps Christ in the midst of us in all that we do.

Amen.

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.

Sermon; Proper 6A; Matt. 9:35 - 10:23

Last week's gospel gave us the call of Matthew the tax collector and Jesus getting in trouble for eating with sinners and tax collectors. In response, he told the Pharisees, “I have come to call not the righteous but sinners.”

In looking at that statement, we first have to define sin. One over-arching definition is, “the purposeful disobedience to the known will of God.” Our Catechism defines sin as “seeking our own will instead of the will of God.” The Catechism goes on to say that by doing this (seeking our own will) we distort our relationship with God, other people, and all of creation. In the Confession we pray for forgiveness of what we have done and left undone. And in one version (the form attached to Prayers of the People VI), we also ask for forgiveness of sins “known and unknown.”

Second, we need to really pay attention to how Jesus interacted with people labeled as sinners. He eats with them. He speaks with them. He heals them. Nowhere does he outright condemn them. In fact, notice that his harshest criticisms and condemnations are reserved for the religious leaders, the wealthy, and those systems that abuse and take advantage of people. It's the people who see themselves as above reproach whom Jesus reproaches.

So as we think about sin there are three things to keep in mind. First, sin is those things known and unknown, done and left undone, that focus on our will rather than the will of God. Second, Jesus doesn't condemn those who have been identified as sinners. And third, Jesus' condemnation is most often reserved for those who hold themselves blameless while labeling others as sinners.

We are all sinners. We all think, say, and do things that seek our will over the will of God. We all do things that distort our relationship with God, others, and creation. We also all participate in sinful systems whether we know it or not, and whether we acknowledge it or not. I say this because we have a tendency to accuse others of being sinners, sometimes terrible sinners, more often than we are willing to look at and correct (repent) our own sins.

Think about people accused of being possessed by demons. Women accused of being witches. Women who are uppity. People who have different values or lifestyles. We tend to accuse people of sins we ourselves don't commit in order to make us feel better. Such as anything the Puritans detested, Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God, or attacking lgbtq people on religious grounds. Like the Pharisees in today's gospel, we might want to ask, “What are THOSE people doing here?”

Why all this talk about sin? Because Jesus came to call sinners. Notice that he didn't say, “I have come to convert sinners,” but, “I have come to call sinners.”

Issuing a call is what Jesus originally did to the twelve disciples. From Peter to Judas and everyone in-between, Jesus called them. He invited them to turn from their selfish wills and follow God's will. How did he do that? By showing them a better way. By spending time with them. By teaching them. By eating with them. By building a community with them. This is also how Jesus deals with sinners – by doing all of those things.

Which brings us to today.

Jesus is traveling about the country proclaiming the good news, teaching, and healing. The text says, “When he saw the crowds he had compassion for them.” I am fairly confident that within those crowds there were any number of people whom the Pharisees would label as sinners. These crowds weren't made up of Perfect People who met with the Pharisees' approval. They were those whom Jesus wanted to draw back into a right relationship with God.

He eventually realizes he can't do everything himself, so he does what any good leader should do and he delegates responsibility. He calls the twelve apostles and sends them out on a mission to visit the towns and people of Israel with a very specific mandate: they are to proclaim the good news, cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, and cast out demons.

He doesn't tell them to criticize or condemn people. He doesn't tell them to shun or excommunicate sinners. He tells them to proclaim, cure, cleanse, and raise. He tells them to invite (call) the people into a new, right relationship with God. And he tells them that if anyone will not welcome them or listen to them, leave. Don't berate them. Don't condemn them. Just let them live with their decision and move on.

Unfortunately things haven't changed much in 2000 years. The harvest is still plentiful. Missionaries are still sent out. And people still accuse others of being sinners and abominations.

I began by looking back at last week when Jesus rebuffed the Pharisees by saying, “I have come to call sinners.” I want to end by looking forward.

One of the things Jesus did was to instruct his disciples on what a right relationship with God looked like. This instruction wasn't just for the benefit of the individual disciples but to prepare them to become leaders in this new community. It was to help ensure that what he began would continue into the future. The sending of the twelve was the first step when he commissioned them to go and proclaim, cure, cleanse, and raise. This commission now falls to us.

The term “apostle” is generally taken to mean “one who is sent.” As the twelve disciples were sent, thereby becoming apostles, so now we are sent. You are being sent. We are all being sent to proclaim the good news, cure, cleanse, and raise. We are all called to invite people into a new way of being and into a right relationship with God, with ourselves, and with others.

Thinking back to the Listening Session from two weeks ago and the group who wanted to see a hundred people in church, remember this: we can't increase to a hundred if we don't first increase by one.

So rather than focusing on the sin of others, as the Pharisees did and as certain religious leaders/people do today, let's focus on simply inviting people into a new way of being as we proclaim, cure, cleanse, and raise.

Amen.