Faith in God's Promises: Unexpected Plans

Now the birth of Jesus the Messiah took place in this way. When his mother Mary had been engaged to Joseph, but before they lived together, she was found to be with child from the Holy Spirit. Her husband Joseph, being a righteous man and unwilling to expose her to public disgrace, planned to dismiss her quietly. But just when he had resolved to do this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.” All this took place to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet:

“Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son,
    and they shall name him Emmanuel,”

which means, “God is with us.” When Joseph awoke from sleep, he did as the angel of the Lord commanded him; he took her as his wife, but had no marital relations with her until she had borne a son; and he named him Jesus. Matthew 1:18-25 (NRSV)

Grace and peace to you from the Triune God - Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

We began today talking about trust. With a couple of you, I tested your trust in me. Your faith in me. Whether I would drop you. Or not. Our reading today about Joseph is also about trust. About who or what he should believe. And why.

There are a lot of legends in our world today, aren’t there? Legends that many people think are true. We’ll call them urban legends. Here’s an example. If you swallow your chewing gum it will take seven years to digest. Do you think that’s true? Or false? It's false.

Here’s another. One that’s especially appropriate for December. Most of our body heat is lost through our heads. True or false? True for infants, but false for everyone else.

One more. This one is about Coca Cola. We’ve all heard about how if you pour Coke onto a car battery it will wash away corrosion. Did you know that, if you put a tooth in a glass of Coke overnight, it will dissolve by morning? Do you think that’s true or false? It’s false.

How do you know what to believe or who to believe? Any ideas?

Most often, we believe in the people we trust. Perhaps we trust them because we know them well - we’ve been in a long relationship with them. Perhaps we trust them because of their knowledge. Or their education. Or their role. Or, perhaps, we trust them because their word is reliable. They do what they say they will do. Whatever the reason, trust usually happens as a result of our experience with people.

Today is the fourth Sunday of Advent. We’ve been waiting for a few weeks now. Thinking, as we wait, about courage and hope and justice. Today, we make a transition. Not only is this the last Sunday of Advent, but in our lectionary we now move out of the Hebrew scriptures and into the New Testament. Into the gospel of Matthew.

Scholars believe that Matthew was written near the end of the first century, some 40-50 years after Jesus’ ministry. The author of Matthew was writing to a mostly Jewish audience after the fall of the Second Temple in 70 CE. God’s very home on earth had been destroyed. The city that had been the place of God’s presence had been overwhelmed by Romans. Thousands of friends and relatives of Matthew’s readers had been brutally killed. Hundreds of them by crucifixion on crosses. The world and the future did not look good for the Jews or even for the small, yet growing Jesus movement. 

Does this feel like a deja vu moment? After all, isn’t this nearly the same story as those we’ve been hearing about for weeks in our Old Testament readings. About Israel’s capture by the Assyrians. Then, the capture of Judah by the Babylonians. And with it the destruction of the First Temple. And the exile of the Jewish people. The diaspora - the dispersion of God’s people into exile away from the land that God had given to them. 

So, it’s no accident that in our reading today - in these opening verses of Matthew - that we hear the writer’s reminder of a prophecy for his audience. A prophecy from Isaiah. About a virgin (although the original Hebrew speaks of a young woman). About a girl who is pregnant. Not Mary! But, a girl who would have a child whom she would name Immanuel. Immanuel. Which means “God is with us.” In this prophecy, given at a time when Judah was under attack, Isaiah promised that by the time this child was old enough to know the difference between right and wrong, the cities of the kings who were threatening Judah would be in complete ruin. And Judah would be safe. Because God was with them.

The author of Matthew is using Isaiah’s ancient prophecy to remind his audience nearly 800 years later that God was with them, too.

But, let’s turn to the time of our story. About Joseph. And Mary. And the birth of Jesus, the Messiah. Our story begins by telling us that Mary and Joseph were engaged. Now engagement, or betrothal, in ancient times was much different that it is today. When two people became engaged, it was a formal step. A formal agreement between two families. A point at which gifts were exchanged. Between the families. And between the bride and groom to be. During the time of engagement, which usually lasted an entire year, a man and woman were looked upon as fully committed to each other. It was so binding, in fact, that to break an engagement required a bill of divorce. If a spouse died during the betrothal period, he or she was considered a widow or widower, just as if they had been fully married.

So, when Joseph heard that Mary was pregnant, he was likely very hurt. And very upset. And publicly humiliated. Because he knew that the child was not his. And our story tells us that Joseph was a “righteous” man. This meant that he was right-living. That he carefully abided by Jewish law. That, in a circumstance like this with Mary being pregnant, a strict interpretation of Jewish law required that he report her to the authorities. That she be publicly shamed and humiliated. And, even, that she could be stoned to death. As a righteous man, Joseph knew this.

And, yet, Joseph knew that he should also err on the side of love. And so, his plan was to break the engagement quietly, so that she would not be subject to public humiliation and, especially, that she would be safe.

How devastating all of this must have been for Joseph!

And, then, God breaks in. Sending a messenger - an angel to tell Joseph that this is no ordinary child. But, that this child is the Messiah. The Messiah promised to the people. A child from the Holy Spirit. And that Joseph should take Mary as his wife, meaning moving in together, shifting their relationship from engagement to marriage. And that, when the child was born, Joseph would be the one to name him. A right that ensured his position as the baby’s legal father. And  also that Jesus was not only Son of God, but also Son of Man. Jesus. Immanuel. God with us. Savior of God’s people from their sin.

Do you hear the complexity in this story? The many layers that are woven into this opening narrative from Matthew? Do you hear the truth of this story? That God is with us. Whether it is with Judah under siege in ancient times. Whether it is with Joseph in the midst of his confusion and humiliation. Whether it is with the audience of Matthew’s Gospel as they are being persecuted by the Roman empire. Whether it is with us in our lives today, whether we are beside still waters or on right paths. Or whether we are walking through the darkest valley. Do you hear the profound message in this Matthew text? The true story that is woven into these words?


That God is trustworthy. That God keeps God’s promises. That God is with us. Yesterday, today, and forever. May we hold this as truth in our own lives. Amen.

Preached December 23, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY
Advent 4
Readings: Matthew 1:18-25; Psalm 23:1-4

Invitation to Abundant Life: Thirsty?

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

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

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

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

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

Many Samaritans from that city believed in him because of the woman’s testimony, “He told me everything I have ever done.” So when the Samaritans came to him, they asked him to stay with them; and he stayed there two days. And many more believed because of his word. They said to the woman, “It is no longer because of what you said that we believe, for we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this is truly the Savior of the world.” John 4:1-42 (NRSV)

Grace and peace to you from our Lord and Savior, the Messiah, who is Christ, the Lord. Amen.

I first experienced “it” when I was nine years old. I was a young girl, growing up on a ranch, pretty accustomed to hard work. Carrying five-gallon pails of feed and bales of hay. I was pretty strong for my age.

So, in fourth grade, after I’d already been playing piano for five years and the clarinet for one, and after I noticed a big double bass violin sitting in our music room at the public school I attended, I was kind of surprised at my music teacher’s response when I asked if I could learn how to play this big, beautifully carved instrument. “No,” he said. “Girls can’t play the double bass. Their fingers are too weak for the heavy strings.”

You see, I’d never experienced it before. That “being a girl” limited me in any way. I lived on a ranch where everyone simply had to do whatever was needed to make sure things got done. There was no difference between what I could do or what my brother could do. 

I didn’t really know at that time what “it” was. But, I knew it felt very unfair. And that it just wasn’t right. I was a strong girl and a very musical girl. After all these years, I still believe I could have learned the double bass in no time flat and with no fingering difficulties.

As I got older, “it” happened more and more. And “it” took on different forms. Sometimes, “it” was just a little slight. Something I could brush off easily. Like getting served second after a boy in the dining hall when I’d been there first. Or silly things boys would say--”Girls are weak, but guys are strong!”

At other times, “it” wasn’t so slight. Often “it” was frustrating. Like at work, when I’d put forward a new idea or raise an issue over and over again with a male superior with no response. And then see an immediate response to a male colleague who would put forward my idea or raise my issue and immediately be heard. Or the time when a deputy sheriff I worked with, said to me, “You know, you’d get more dates if you’d act more stupid.”

Sometimes “it” was frightening. Like the time in my early twenties when I went to my usual laundromat, as I did weekly, and walked in the door to see a man sitting on a washing machine exposing himself to me. I walked to the far end and, when I turned around, everything was magically normal and it was as though I’d imagined the entire experience.

Sometimes “it” was appalling. Like the time, when, as the present of my local union at the courts in Los Angeles, I sat with colleagues and listened as they told me the stories of how, when women were first hired there in the 1970’s, there was an unspoken rule for female court clerks. That, in their case, they were expected to serve the judge in every way he required. And that some of them did. Because they needed the job to support their families.

Over time, I’ve kept telling myself “it” is getting better. That there have been continuous gains in overcoming “it.” That since I started working in the 1980’s, “it” has diminished. But then another wave washes over our society. Another movement of rising up. More women sharing their stories. Vast numbers of women posting #metoo on Twitter or on Facebook . On my page alone, many. From my 16-year-old cousin, to friends in their 40’s and 50’s and from the oldest--my aunt who is 92 years old. Over and over and over again, it seems, we fight to change “it”. Over and over and over again, it seems, we fail. We cannot seem to fully eliminate “it.” We can not seem to fully erase the sexism that continues to reign in our world today.

How did we get here? How did reach a point where sexism is so deeply embedded in our society that it seems impossible to overcome?

To answer that question, we need to go back centuries. Millenia, to be exact. If we’re reading Scripture, to Genesis, chapter 3, after the fall, where God says to Eve: “I will greatly increase your pangs in childbearing; in pain you shall bring forth children, yet your desire shall be for your husband, and he shall rule over you.” Sexism comes from our own brokenness. Patriarchy has reigned in our world for thousands and thousands of years. Over and over and over again, men have created structures that have sought to keep women in their place. Or at least the place where men believed women should be. It has resulted in deeply embedded biases that continue to exist today. Biases that are often implicit, hidden, unseen. Yet, still there. In men. And in women.

Yes, I said “and in women.” Because, ladies, we have learned patriarchy well. Often we are our own worst enemies. Tearing each other apart. Just as in a conversation I heard one day in my home church in Pasadena between two women. As they were talking about our pastor--a female pastor--one of them said to the other, “Oh, it would be so refreshing to hear a man’s voice from the pulpit.”

It is bias...it is sexism...it is patriarchy that for centuries has also caused the misinterpretation of the story that is our focus today. How often have we heard this story of the Samaritan woman characterized as “the woman caught in adultery!” Yet, if we read it carefully and we understand its context, both culturally and as it is placed in the Gospel of John, there is nowhere in this story that this conclusion can be reached. There is nothing in it that reflects that she is an adulteress. It is not there. Just as, in her story, there is NO condemnation from Jesus there. Either.  

So, what do we have in our story? We have a woman. First problem. If you haven’t figured it out from our Old Testament readings over these past few months, Israel was a deeply patriarchal society. Women were property. Good for bearing children. Not good if one was unable to bear children. A man could divorce a woman for the most minor of reasons simply by saying the words, “I divorce you.” She would then be homeless. And penniless. This was why producing a child--particularly, a male child--ensured her security into old age. And why being barren was terrifying.

Next, she was a Samaritan woman. Second problem. The Jewish and Samaritan people hated each other. Even though they confessed the same God, there was long-standing hostility between them that was centered around where God should be worshipped. If Jesus, as a Jew, had received a drink of water from her, he would have immediately been unclean. This is why, when he asks her for a drink, she challenges him: “How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?”

Next, they met at a well. Third problem. If you recall, wells were the places where you went to meet the opposite sex. To find a wife. Or a husband. And this well--well, it wasn’t just any old well. It was Jacob’s well--a place where Jacob and Rachel were engaged and, where Jacob’s son, Isaac, and Rebekkah were betrothed. Engagements happened at wells. They were places of intimacy. Intimacy experienced as sexual tension. Places where a man and a woman were not supposed to be alone together.

Next, and finally, they met at the sixth hour. At noon. Another problem. Or at least, that’s how it's been interpreted for us these past 2,000 years. That, instead of going to the well early in the morning like all of the other women did, she went in the middle of the day, when the sun was bright and it was hot. Just so she could escape the shame and mockery of the other women. This interpretation completely ignores that this was also the time of day with the light. Light, which, in John, signifies belief and faith. 

When we lay this problematic story, as the Gospel writer has, beside last week’s story of Nicodemus, and we compare and contrast them, here is what we have: An unnamed woman from a despised people at the well in broad daylight, compared to a named Jewish leader coming to Jesus in the middle of the night.

What is the author of John doing?

Do you remember our passage from last week--John 3:16? “For God so loved the world…?”

By putting these two stories side-by-side, John is showing us who exactly is included in that world that God loved. Nicodemus should have been the one who got it, rather than this unnamed woman at the well. Instead, John places her here to show us just who God has invited into abundant life--into the living water.

You see it is not only for those on the inside. But, it is, particularly, for those on the outside. For those who finally say, “I have no husband,” with all of the pain and suffering that is behind those words. That, in her case, comes from the likely reality that she has either been widowed. Or divorced. Or both.  Because she was barren. And because she is likely now suffering the humiliation of a Levirate marriage, a type of marriage prescribed in Scripture. Where her husband has died and she has been passed from brother to brother, finally reaching the youngest who can refuse to marry her, but must still take her into his home to care for her. 

When Jesus asks her to go get her husband, it all comes pouring out. All the pain and heartache. All the loneliness and shame. Everything that she has experienced comes pouring out.

What does Jesus do? Jesus hears her. He listens. And he does not condemn her.  Not once.

This is what we must do to overcome “it.” To overcome sexism. Or racism. Or class-ism. Or any other “ism” that is out there. We. Must. Listen. We must hear the stories and we must believe them. We must listen to the pain and suffering, the loneliness and shame. And we must not condemn. So often, we recite the words of John 3:16, yet we overlook those of John 3:17. “Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.”

Jesus did not condemn her. And, unlike Nicodemus, this unnamed Samaritan woman became a witness to him. “Many Samaritans from that city believed in Jesus because of the woman’s testimony,” our story tells us. Many Samaritans. All because of her witness.

So, let us also be like her, this unnamed Samaritan woman, who shows us what is to be Jesus’ disciple. Let us be witnesses to Jesus and to a God who loved all the world so much that God gave God’s only son, that whoever believes in him will not perish, but will have living water. Abundant life. Here and now. And for all time. 

May God grant it. Amen.

Preached February 4, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY
Fifth Sunday after the Epiphany
Readings: Psalm 42:1-3, 5; John 4:1-42

The Handmaid's Tale

The child grew, and was weaned; and Abraham made a great feast on the day that Isaac was weaned. But Sarah saw the son of Hagar the Egyptian, whom she had borne to Abraham, playing with her son Isaac. So she said to Abraham, “Cast out this slave woman with her son; for the son of this slave woman shall not inherit along with my son Isaac.” The matter was very distressing to Abraham on account of his son. But God said to Abraham, “Do not be distressed because of the boy and because of your slave woman; whatever Sarah says to you, do as she tells you, for it is through Isaac that offspring shall be named for you. As for the son of the slave woman, I will make a nation of him also, because he is your offspring.” So Abraham rose early in the morning, and took bread and a skin of water, and gave it to Hagar, putting it on her shoulder, along with the child, and sent her away. And she departed, and wandered about in the wilderness of Beer-sheba.

When the water in the skin was gone, she cast the child under one of the bushes. Then she went and sat down opposite him a good way off, about the distance of a bowshot; for she said, “Do not let me look on the death of the child.” And as she sat opposite him, she lifted up her voice and wept. And God heard the voice of the boy; and the angel of God called to Hagar from heaven, and said to her, “What troubles you, Hagar? Do not be afraid; for God has heard the voice of the boy where he is. Come, lift up the boy and hold him fast with your hand, for I will make a great nation of him.” Then God opened her eyes and she saw a well of water. She went, and filled the skin with water, and gave the boy a drink.

God was with the boy, and he grew up; he lived in the wilderness, and became an expert with the bow. He lived in the wilderness of Paran; and his mother got a wife for him from the land of Egypt. Genesis 21:8-21 (NRSV)

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

Since April, I’ve been a weekly television series on Hulu called The Handmaid’s Tale. Have any of you seen it? Well, it’s based upon a book with the same title written by Margaret Atwood in 1985. 

It’s set in the near future in New England, in a totalitarian theocracy that has overthrown the United States government. Did you hear the word “theocracy” there? This society--this theocracy--is one that is based upon a deeply perverted misreading of the laws and codes of the Old Testament.  The leaders of this culture believe that they are being punished by God for dangerously low reproduction rates. That they have failed to fulfill God’s mandate to be fruitful and multiply.

The story is narrated by Offred, a handmaid. A young woman, fertile and in her prime child-bearing years, who has been assigned to bear children for an elite couple who has trouble conceiving a child. Offred is not her real name. As a handmaid, her name consists of the word “of” followed by the name of her commander, who in this case is Fred. Of-Fred. 

Every month, when she is most fertile, she is required to have impersonal, wordless sex with the Commander while his wife sits behind her, holding her hands. Her freedom, like the freedom of all women, is completely restricted. She can leave the house only on shopping trips. The door to her room cannot be completely shut. And the Eyes, who are the secret police force, watch her every public move.

And, as I’ve been watching it, I’ve been struck by the growing power struggle between the two women--the commander’s handmaid and his wife--to be the one who is most important to the commander.  

It’s a frightening and disturbing story. And it’s similarities to the story today of the power struggle between Hagar and Sarah are just as frightening and disturbing.

That’s really what this is, isn’t it? A power struggle, right? A struggle between two women to gain power in their relationship with Abraham. A struggle between two women whose only power in society comes through their potential to produce an heir.

But, wait a minute. I’m getting a little ahead of myself.

Our story opens today with Isaac, the son of Abraham and Sarah. He has now reached the point in time to be weaned. In our world, this might mean that he was 8-9 months old, perhaps a little older. In the time of our story, he would have been breastfed until he was 2 or 3 years old. Infant mortality rates were very high. That Isaac had reached this point was a big deal. A rite of passage. Reaching this age gave much greater certainty to both Abraham and Sarah that Isaac would live to actually become Abraham’s heir. 

It was cause for celebration. So, that’s just what they did. Our story tells us that Abraham prepared a huge banquet.

It was during this celebration, or perhaps a short time later, that Sarah saw Ishmael laughing. You remember Ishmael, don’t you? He was the first-born of Abraham. The son of Hagar. Hagar, the Egyptian. Sarah’s slave given to Abraham. Given so he could have sex with her to make an heir. Since Sarah was barren and unable to produce one herself.

When Sarah saw Ishmael laughing, she got angry. It’s hard to really know why this made her so angry. Perhaps, seeing Ishmael reminded her of her former barren state. Perhaps, seeing him reminded Sarah of the way in which Hagar had treated her after Ishmael was born. How Hagar, who was able to produce an heir, had shown disrespect to Sarah, her master. 

Or perhaps it’s because when Sarah saw Ishmael, she was reminded that he was still a potential threat to Isaac. To Isaac’s inheritance. In a society where a woman’s entire value was measured by her ability to produce an heir.  In a society where a woman’s only source of power was through her children and, specifically, through her sons. In a society where a woman was completely dependent upon the wealth and inheritance of her husband and her sons. It is no surprise that Sarah viewed Ishmael, and also Hagar, as a potential threats to Isaac and to herself. 

And, so, Sarah goes to Abraham. And she demands that he send her away. That he divorce her. 

Abraham is very distressed by Sarah’s request. That she should ask him to send away his son. (Do you notice that our text says nothing about a concern for Hagar?) 

Yet, God speaks to Abraham. Tells him to comply with Sarah’s request. So, Abraham packs up some bread and a small amount of water and sends Ishmael and Hagar away. Into the desert. Where their water runs out. Where Hagar, who can’t bear to watch her son die, puts him under a tree a distance a way. She can’t watch and, yet, she still hears his cries.

If feels wrong somehow, doesn’t it? That God would side with Sarah in this mess. This big mess. Much of which is Sarah’s own making. It just feels wrong. That the woman who is the slave, the one with even less power than her mistress, the one who complied with Sarah’s wishes. It just feels wrong that she should be sent away. With her son. Who is even more innocent. That they should both be punished. Be cast aside. And that God would go along with it. It just feels wrong, doesn’t it?

How many times has this happened to you? That you’ve been cast aside? Been in a position with no power and been pushed aside? Pushed to the edges of your family? Or your friends? Or pushed to the edges of society? Like the elderly, like the disabled, like the poor, like those who are gay, or undocumented, or those who skin is the wrong color? Or those with the wrong religion or belief system. Cast out. Pushed to the edges. Where it seems as though they’ve been abandoned by family, by friends, by our world. Perhaps, even, by God?

But, this isn’t the end of the story. 

As the first season of the Handmaid’s Tale came to an end, Offred, the handmaid, learned that there were a number of people working quietly, working underground. Resisting. Resisting the the evil theocracy and those who had so devalued women. She begins to understand that this is not the end of the story. 

The desert scene with Hagar and Ishmael also wasn’t the end of the story. We read that God heard Ishmael’s cries. God came to Hagar and took both of them to a well where they might receive sustenance. Where they might receive life-giving water. And, then, God promised them greatness.

God hears you, too. God hears you and I and all those who have been cast aside, all who are on the edges. Broken, beaten down. Wracked by sin and guilt. Hurt by the evil of the world. God hears and comes, too. God takes us to the well and gives us water. Life-giving water. 

And, then, God promises greatness. Greatness that comes through love. Through the loving and life-giving act of Christ on the cross. Through the sanctifying power of the Holy Spirit. 

We are called to this greatness through love. A love we have received through nothing we have done, but solely a result of God’s own love. A love that transforms and changes. A love that hears you and I and leaves no one cast out. 

This is the nature of our God. God leaves no one cast out or alone, left to die. No one.

For this, we praise God in the words of the psalmist today, “You are great! You do wondrous things! You alone are God!

Amen.

Preached June 25, 2017, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.

Third Sunday after Pentecost

Readings: Genesis 21:8-21; Psalm 86:1-10, 16-17; Romans 6:1b-11; Matthew 10:24-39

Stick It Out

“You have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, ‘You shall not murder’; and ‘whoever murders shall be liable to judgment.’ But I say to you that if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgment; and if you insult a brother or sister, you will be liable to the council; and if you say, ‘You fool,’ you will be liable to the hell of fire. So when you are offering your gift at the altar, if you remember that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your brother or sister, and then come and offer your gift. Come to terms quickly with your accuser while you are on the way to court with him, or your accuser may hand you over to the judge, and the judge to the guard, and you will be thrown into prison. Truly I tell you, you will never get out until you have paid the last penny.

“You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’ But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lust has already committed adultery with her in his heart. If your right eye causes you to sin, tear it out and throw it away; it is better for you to lose one of your members than for your whole body to be thrown into hell. And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away; it is better for you to lose one of your members than for your whole body to go into hell.

“It was also said, ‘Whoever divorces his wife, let him give her a certificate of divorce.’ But I say to you that anyone who divorces his wife, except on the ground of unchastity, causes her to commit adultery; and whoever marries a divorced woman commits adultery.

“Again, you have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, ‘You shall not swear falsely, but carry out the vows you have made to the Lord.’ But I say to you, Do not swear at all, either by heaven, for it is the throne of God, or by the earth, for it is his footstool, or by Jerusalem, for it is the city of the great King. And do not swear by your head, for you cannot make one hair white or black. Let your word be ‘Yes, Yes’ or ‘No, No’; anything more than this comes from the evil one.  -Matthew 5:21-37 (NRSV)



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

Yesterday was a wonderful day, wasn’t it? Of course, I’m speaking for myself, but, at least for me, it was an amazing day!  I hope it was for you, too. It was the end of a very long journey for me that began in 2006 (and, really, much earlier than that). And, yet, the beginning of a new journey for me and for all of us here at Grace and Glory.

It was an amazing day!

And, then, today happens. And we are hit with a hard and difficult reading from Matthew as part of our regular lectionary. In a way, it feels like a very quick take down from yesterday’s high, doesn’t it? 

But, before we begin to dig into our Gospel lesson from today, let’s step back a bit, to get a broader view of the context in which Jesus is speaking these words that seem so hard and difficult.

In the preceding chapters of Matthew, Jesus, after being baptized by John, begins his ministry along the Galilean Sea, announcing the coming of God’s kingdom. As he has walked along this sea--a lake really--he has called his disciples, beginning with the fisherman brothers, Peter and Andrew. Along with these and 10 more newly-called disciples, Jesus has been traveling throughout the Galilean countryside, teaching in the Jewish synagogues--continuing to announce the coming of God’s kingdom in and through himself and, as we learn in Matthew 4, “healing every disease and sickness among the people.” He has healed people with all kinds of physical and mental maladies--those with diseases and in pain, those possessed with demons, those with epilepsy, and the paralyzed. Every person brought to Jesus with any physical or mental issue has been healed by him.

The result is that large crowds of people began to follow along with Jesus and his disciples. It is at this point then that Jesus begins to teach.  (Do you note how the healing comes first and then the teaching?)

So, Jesus goes up onto a higher place, sits down, surrounded by his disciples and the crowds nearby and begins to teach. It is these teachings that we call the Sermon on the Mount, beginning in Matthew, chapter 5, with the Beatitudes.

You know the words of the Beatitudes so well…”Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Blessed are the meek...those who hunger and thirst for righteousness...the merciful...and on and on. It is in these words of the Beatitudes that Jesus begins to lay out a vision of the kingdom of God, a kingdom so different from the empire in which the disciples are living--a kingdom that is the complete reversal of their experience under the Roman empire.

Then, as we heard last week in the texts on salt and light, Jesus begins to teach the gathered disciples (and the thousand or so followers just listening in) about what it means to be a disciple in this kingdom, training them and inviting them to voluntarily enter a very marginal life as a minority community and to read and understand Scripture (or the law and the prophets) with Jesus as the key to their interpretation.

Which brings us to our text today from Matthew 5. It is in the reading today where Jesus provides three examples for us--three places in which the Scripture that the disciples know and understand is reinterpreted through Jesus’ lens.

The first example involves anger.  Here, in this section beginning with verse 21, Jesus challenges us to understand that it is not only murder that brings judgment, but even anger with another. Whether it is anger expressed by insulting someone publicly, anger that is unresolved with another person, or anger that leads to murderous action, whether literally or metaphorically, none of this is behavior that is fit for God’s kingdom.  The alternative that is fit for God’s kingdom is reconciliation and peacemaking.

The second example involves the roles of men and women in social relationships, especially in a very patriarchal world. Here, Jesus challenges the destructive power of men over women as it relates to the issues of adultery and divorce. And his vision for God’s kingdom is a much more equal understanding of marriage and social relationship between women and men. 

The third and final example of Jesus’ reinterpretation relates to the integrity of word and action. On the wall in front of my desk here is a paper with the letters “DWYSYWD” on it. This is an abbreviation for the phrase, “Do what you said you would do.” This is the vision of God’s kingdom that Jesus has--where we walk the talk, where we do what we say we will do. It is this kind of straightforward, sincere, and trustworthy speech that builds honest and trusting relationships.

And that, ultimately, is what all three of these examples are about. They are about relationship. They are about living in relationship with one another. They are about the hard work of living together, whether one-on-one with each other or within the broader community of faith. Not only in Jesus’ time. But also right now. 


After yesterday’s excitement in particular, after the long wait you and I have had in reaching this point, we, here, at Grace and Glory are in a honeymoon period. You are excited to have me here. I am excited to be here. There is probably little that, for a while at least, can upset our relationship. We are getting along wonderfully well.

But it is inevitable that there will come a time when there will be something I say or do that will anger or frustrate you. Or something I say or do that challenges one of your beliefs, whether it’s a long held religious or political or cultural belief. Or even that you may do or say something to frustrate me. 

It is inevitable that there will come a time when the honeymoon period ends.

It is then that the real work of relationship will begin. The hard work of relationship. The work of finding reconciliation with each other when we’re angry, of apologizing for hard or insulting words, of engaging in more equal partnership as men and women, of doing what we say we will do. This is the hard work of relationship. It is the work that God’s kingdom requires. It is the work that God is calling us to do here at Grace and Glory. It is the work that God calls us to do out in the world. It is the work that brings wholeness and life.

So this is my closing challenge to you. Stick around. Even when you don’t want to, stick around. Even when you’re angry or frustrated, stick around. Even when someone hasn’t kept their word, stick around. 

This is what, as people of God, we are called to do. To stick around. We do it because God sticks around for us. Even in the midst of our human failings, God steps in and provides a way for us to reconcile and make peace with one another in the very same way that God stepped into a broken world and brought a Savior to reconcile each and every one of us with him. And continues to do so each and every minute of our day.

It is then, once we have stuck around, have struggled together, have reconciled and made peace with each other that, I believe, through God’s grace and mercy, we will truly begin to experience the fullness of God’s kingdom here at Grace and Glory.

May God so grant it. Amen.

Preached February 12, 2017, the Sixth Sunday after Epiphany, at Grace and Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Readings: Deut. 30:15-20, Psalm 119:1-8, 1 Cor. 3:1-9, Matt. 5:21-37.