Journey to the Cross: Insiders and Outsiders

In today’s story, Jesus and his group of disciples are nearing Jericho, which is only 15 miles from Jerusalem. We are nearing the end of Jesus’ ministry and of his journey to the cross. Before we hear our reading today, a reading that is in three parts, I’d like us to look back at the journey we’ve taken alongside Luke’s Jesus. 

If you remember way back to January, we heard Jesus outline this ministry, quoting from Isaiah 61: “...the Lord has anointed me...to preach good news to the poor, to proclaim release to the prisoners and recovery of sight to the blind, to liberate the oppressed, and to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” What Jesus has been offering along the way is salvation that is open to everyone. But not salvation that is not a “cookie-cutter” approach, but healing is unique as we and our needs are. 

With all of this in mind, we now read the first of three parts of today’s lesson - stories that are all about seeing. Or not seeing.

We read, beginning Luke, chapter 18.

Then he took the twelve aside and said to them, “See, we are going up to Jerusalem, and everything that is written about the Son of Man by the prophets will be accomplished. For he will be handed over to the Gentiles; and he will be mocked and insulted and spat upon. After they have flogged him, they will kill him, and on the third day he will rise again.” But they understood nothing about all these things; in fact, what he said was hidden from them, and they did not grasp what was said.

It’s the third time. The third time that Jesus has predicted his upcoming passion to the disciples. And yet, as before, they don’t get it. Whether it is that they refuse to see these events coming, or whether it is so far outside the realm of the possible for them to grasp, our text tells us that these things that Jesus is predicting are “hidden” from them. Those who are closest to Jesus - the insiders - do not see.  Are we like the disciples? The baptized, the church, the insiders? Unable to see how Jesus might be leading us to new things? To the death and resurrection in this moment? 

Our reading continues.

As he approached Jericho, a blind man was sitting by the roadside begging. When he heard a crowd going by, he asked what was happening. They told him, “Jesus of Nazareth is passing by.” Then he shouted, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” Those who were in front sternly ordered him to be quiet; but he shouted even more loudly, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” Jesus stood still and ordered the man to be brought to him; and when he came near, he asked him, “What do you want me to do for you?” He said, “Lord, let me see again.” Jesus said to him, “Receive your sight; your faith has saved you.” Immediately he regained his sight and followed him, glorifying God; and all the people, when they saw it, praised God.

What’s interesting about this blind man is how well he sees! When he hears the crowd and asks what’s going on, they tell him that it is Jesus of Nazareth. He is the one who responds, for the first time in Luke, naming Jesus as the Son of David. A direct reference to the Messiah. It’s no wonder, then, that the crowd shushes him. Because to proclaim Jesus as Messiah is to risk upsetting the occupying powers, who would be threatened by this political threat. Be quiet - they tell the blind man - this outsider, who sees more fully than anyone else. 

Yet, he persists. He is not quiet. He is not orderly. After all, in their view, he is already an outcast. So, he begs for mercy more loudly, demanding Jesus’ attention. Notice that Jesus doesn’t immediately heal him, but asks him what he needs. Notice also that the blind man boldly responds. Naming his own need. And trusting, with a deep faith, that Jesus will provide. 

Do we see Jesus as the blind man did? As Messiah - as savior of the world? Who can save, or, more correctly, heal us? Or heal the church? Or heal the world? Do we have the faith of the blind man? Do we have his hope? His sight?  

Jesus sees his faith. Restores his sight. And welcomes him back into community. He will no longer be an outcast. This is the salvation Jesus provides. Not simply healing, but wholeness and belonging.

And, then, we come to the story of Zacchaeus. In chapter 19.

[Jesus] entered Jericho and was passing through it. A man was there named Zacchaeus; he was a chief tax collector and was rich. He was trying to see who Jesus was, but on account of the crowd he could not, because he was short in stature. So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore tree to see him, because he was going to pass that way. When Jesus came to the place, he looked up and said to him, “Zacchaeus, hurry and come down; for I must stay at your house today.” So he hurried down and was happy to welcome him. All who saw it began to grumble and said, “He has gone to be the guest of one who is a sinner.” Zacchaeus stood there and said to the Lord, “Look, half of my possessions, Lord, I will give to the poor; and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay back four times as much.” Then Jesus said to him, “Today salvation has come to this house, because he too is a son of Abraham. For the Son of Man came to seek out and to save the lost.”

If we thought the blind man was an outcast, Zacchaeus takes the cake. Literally. He is a rich man. We’ve heard before what Luke thinks of wealth and how much harder it is for those with wealth to enter God’s kingdom. In large part, because wealth is a powerful master.

Zacchaeus is a chief tax collector. He’s the boss of the tax collectors - the one who has contracted with Rome to collect the tolls that must be paid to use the famous Roman thoroughfares.  The tax collectors are his subcontractors. He’s their boss. If tax collectors are despised in Judea, consider how much more Zacchaeus is hated. On top of this, Zacchaeus, who is Jewish, is viewed as a Roman collaborator, ostracizing him even more. And the cherry on top? Zacchaeus is short. 

Now, this isn’t an indictment of anyone here who is short. Today, being short isn’t viewed in the same way as in ancient times. Think tall, statuesque, chiseled-featured Roman soldier, and you get it. Zacchaeus didn’t fit that mold. Zacchaeus was an outsider in every way.  

But, Zacchaeus wanted to see Jesus. Boss tax collector, collaborator with the enemy, rich, short Zacchaeus just wanted to see Jesus. But, the crowd was in his way. So, he climbed a tree. Now this was not a proper move on his part. After all, someone of his wealth and status should simply show more dignity. But, Zacchaeus was more interested in seeing Jesus than in preserving his reputation. Jesus saw that in him. Approached the tree and told him to come down. And then, promptly, invited himself to dinner.

But there’s something else here. A correction that we must make about Zacchaeus. I don’t know about you, but I grew up hearing this story told as a story of repentance. That, after meeting Jesus, Zacchaeus promises to change his ways. But, there’s a problem with that interpretation. Because the verb used in verse 8 is not a future tense verb, where Zacchaeus promises that he will give to the poor or that, if he has cheated someone, he will pay back four times as much. In fact, the verbs in this verse are in the present tense. Which suggests that Zacchaeus is already doing this. And exceeding what the law requires of him: giving half of his money to the poor instead of the required 10%, repaying those who have been cheated twice as much as the law requires. Zacchaeus isn’t in need of forgiveness. Zacchaeus is a model of how the wealthy can use their wealth to serve the kingdom of God. 

So, Zacchaeus doesn’t need forgiveness here. What he needs is to belong. To be part of a community that welcomes him. That no longer views him, wrongly, as a sinner. It’s why Jesus invites himself to dinner. To send a message to the insiders that this outsider is welcome in the kingdom of God.

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For those of us on the inside, the most profound witness to Jesus can often be heard and seen through an outsider lens. Sometimes, we, like the Pharisees, get so caught up in our rules and our regulations and our way of doing things that we become blind to what God is really doing - what God is doing in our own lives, but especially what God is doing in the world around us. Yet, what God is doing is succinctly summarized in the closing verse of our lesson, in verse 10. “The Son of Man came to seek out and save the lost.” 

The truth is that we’re all lost. We’re all in need of being found. Of being seen. Of being healed. Of being restored to the community. We’re all in need of being saved, whatever that may look like. Salvation, full participation in the reign of God, is what Jesus offers. 

This is God’s truth in Luke. That, in Jesus, salvation is offered to everyone. No matter who you are. No matter where you came from. No matter what. Salvation is offered to all, insider and outsider alike. Because this is who God is. And what our God desires. For you. And for me.

Thanks be to God. Amen.

Preached March 21, 2021, online at Grace & Glory and Third Lutheran churches, Goshen/Louisville, KY.

Fifth Sunday of Lent

Readings: Psalm 84:1-4, 10-12; Luke 18:31-19:10

Journey to the Cross: Seeing and Being Seen

Have you ever pulled off the freeway onto an off-ramp and seen someone standing there asking for money? Or pulled up to a stoplight and, as you wait, you're approached by someone begging for loose change with a sign that says “Please help me!”? What do you do? How do you respond when you see someone suffering? Do you roll down your window and give them some money? Or do you, perhaps, as I often do, roll your window up a little and turn your eyes away. Because, you know what will happen if you make eye contact, right? They’re sure to think that maybe, if they ask you a little more, you’ll see them. You’ll see how they’re suffering. And, maybe, you might be moved to help.

This is our story today. It’s not a story that’s often read as part of the lectionary. Because it’s a hard story. But, it seems like we’ve been hearing a lot of hard stories this year. Hard stories in the midst of what has been a long, hard year.

Our reading is from the 16th chapter of Luke. 

“There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day. And at his gate lay a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, who longed to satisfy his hunger with what fell from the rich man’s table; even the dogs would come and lick his sores. The poor man died and was carried away by the angels to be with Abraham. The rich man also died and was buried. In Hades, where he was being tormented, he looked up and saw Abraham far away with Lazarus by his side. He called out, ‘Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue; for I am in agony in these flames.’ But Abraham said, ‘Child, remember that during your lifetime you received your good things, and Lazarus in like manner evil things; but now he is comforted here, and you are in agony. Besides all this, between you and us a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who might want to pass from here to you cannot do so, and no one can cross from there to us.’ He said, ‘Then, father, I beg you to send him to my father’s house— for I have five brothers—that he may warn them, so that they will not also come into this place of torment.’ Abraham replied, ‘They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them.’ He said, ‘No, father Abraham; but if someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent.’ He said to him, ‘If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.’” --Luke 16:19-31 (NRSV)

To begin with this morning, I’d like to place this parable in its context in Luke. Just a few verses earlier, Jesus has been teaching his disciples about the power of wealth and power. Ending his teaching with this infamous, often misquoted, verse: “No slave can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth.”

Immediately after, the Pharisees, who have been listening in and about whom Luke writes explicitly that they were “lovers of money,” - the Pharisees begin to ridicule Jesus. In response, Jesus tells this story about the rich man and Lazarus.

What’s immediately striking about this parable is who is named and who is not named in the story. Usually, in scripture, those who are without power are unnamed. But, it’s different here. The rich man. The wealthy man. The man who dresses in purple and, literally, the softest underwear. The man who feasts daily. Who kills the fatted calf like the father in last week’s story, not just for a special celebration, but every single day. Every day this man feasts sumptuously. In our world today, he might be a one percenter. A Jeff Bezos or Elon Musk of our day. Yet, this one - this ultra rich man in our story - is unnamed. 

By contrast, it is the poor man who is named. Lazarus. Lazarus, meaning “my God helps.” He is the one who is named. Lazarus, a beggar. Who is covered in sores from a skin condition. Who is licked by dogs.  Not dogs like ours, who lick us out of affection. But wild dogs. Filthy, garbage-eating mongrels who roam the streets. These are the dogs licking the sores of Lazarus, who is the one named in today’s parable.

Each day, Lazarus lies outside the gate of the wealthy, unnamed man. Begging for food. Asking just for scraps from the man’s sumptuous table. And he receives nothing.

Then, the story changes. Both men die. And, in another of Luke’s great reversals, Lazarus is carried away to the bosom of Abraham - a place in Jewish legend of great bliss. The rich man is buried and finds himself in Hades - the nature of which continues to be debated today. Wherever it is, the rich man is in a place of “torment,” our text tells us. 

Now, if we were to give the rich man the benefit of the doubt, maybe, while he was alive, he was so far removed from the grittiness of life - maybe, just maybe, he never saw Lazarus lying outside his gate. There’s no mention of this in the first part of the story. So, maybe he really isn’t such a bad guy after all. Just a little gluttonous. But, not as bad as we might first think. 

Soon, though, that theory is blown apart. Because, we read in verse 24, that the rich man looks up, sees Abraham and Lazarus, and asks - no, orders, Abraham to send Lazarus to dip his finger in water and cool his tongue. He knew who Lazarus was. Had likely seen him, his skin condition, the dogs licking his wounds. Had likely heard him begging just for scraps. And he has done nothing. Then, on top of this, fails to understand that he no longer has power or control. Even as he orders that Lazarus be sent to help him.  

Are we like this rich man? Have we heard the cries of those struggling in this past year? Have we seen them? Have we looked them in their eyes and said, “I see you. I see your pain. I hear your cries.” Or do we, like the wealthy man, like me, turn away. Pretend not to notice. Never look them in the eyes, because if we did. If we truly did, we could no longer ignore them. Or walk away. Or do nothing.

It may be overwhelming for us. When we think of all the people in need or the injustice that plagues entire systems in our society, it may be overwhelming. That there’s nothing you or I can do to change things. That we’re just one or just a few people. What difference can we really make?

But, the rich man was only one person. And Lazarus was also one person only asking for a little. How might the story have ended if, just one time, the rich man had seen - really seen - Lazarus. Seen his suffering. Seen his need. And made one small gesture. A few scraps from his table. 

Jesus was one person, too. Who continues to transform our world.  Jesus. Who sees us. Who calls us to his side. Who welcomes and comforts us. And who sends us to welcome and comfort - to see and to hear the unnoticed in our world. 

Will this past year change us? Will this experience change us? Will it change how we respond? Will we see and hear and act in new ways when we move beyond this pandemic? 

I hope so. 

I hope that, in these next months, our prayer may be that the Holy Spirit push us to new places. To new people. To new life. In and through Jesus Christ. Amen.

Preached March 14, 2021, online with Grace & Glory and Third Lutheran churches, Goshen/Louisville, KY.

Fourth Sunday of Lent

Readings: Luke 16:19-31, Psalm 41:1-3

Journey to the Cross: Lost and Found

Today, in our Gospel lesson we will hear three parables that are set next to each other in the fifteenth chapter of Luke, all three talking about being lost. Just prior to this chapter, Jesus has just finished preaching about the “cost of discipleship.” Telling people that they must be willing to reject their previous social norms and status. So now, as today’s lesson begins, Jesus - not so surprisingly - is caught hanging out with all the wrong people.

The Holy Gospel, today, is from the 15th chapter, according to Luke. 

All the tax collectors and sinners were gathering around Jesus to listen to him. The Pharisees and legal experts were grumbling, saying, “This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.”

Jesus told them this parable: “Suppose someone among you had one hundred sheep and lost one of them. Wouldn’t he leave the other ninety-nine in the pasture and search for the lost one until he finds it? And when he finds it, he is thrilled and places it on his shoulders. When he arrives home, he calls together his friends and neighbors, saying to them, ‘Celebrate with me because I’ve found my lost sheep.’ In the same way, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who changes both heart and life than over ninety-nine righteous people who have no need to change their hearts and lives.

“Or what woman, if she owns ten silver coins and loses one of them, won’t light a lamp and sweep the house, searching her home carefully until she finds it? When she finds it, she calls together her friends and neighbors, saying, ‘Celebrate with me because I’ve found my lost coin.’ In the same way, I tell you, joy breaks out in the presence of God’s angels over one sinner who changes both heart and life.”

Jesus said, “A certain man had two sons. The younger son said to his father, ‘Father, give me my share of the inheritance.’ Then the father divided his estate between them. Soon afterward, the younger son gathered everything together and took a trip to a land far away. There, he wasted his wealth through extravagant living.

“When he had used up his resources, a severe food shortage arose in that country and he began to be in need. He hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him into his fields to feed pigs. He longed to eat his fill from what the pigs ate, but no one gave him anything. When he came to his senses, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired hands have more than enough food, but I’m starving to death! I will get up and go to my father, and say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I no longer deserve to be called your son. Take me on as one of your hired hands.” ’ So he got up and went to his father.

“While he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was moved with compassion. His father ran to him, hugged him, and kissed him. Then his son said, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I no longer deserve to be called your son.’ But the father said to his servants, ‘Quickly, bring out the best robe and put it on him! Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet! Fetch the fattened calf and slaughter it. We must celebrate with feasting because this son of mine was dead and has come back to life! He was lost and is found!’ And they began to celebrate.

“Now his older son was in the field. Coming in from the field, he approached the house and heard music and dancing. He called one of the servants and asked what was going on. The servant replied, ‘Your brother has arrived, and your father has slaughtered the fattened calf because he received his son back safe and sound.’ Then the older son was furious and didn’t want to enter in, but his father came out and begged him. He answered his father, ‘Look, I’ve served you all these years, and I never disobeyed your instruction. Yet you’ve never given me as much as a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours returned, after gobbling up your estate on prostitutes, you slaughtered the fattened calf for him.’ Then his father said, ‘Son, you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. But we had to celebrate and be glad because this brother of yours was dead and is alive. He was lost and is found.’” --Luke 15:1-32 (CEB)

From the outset here, it’s important to understand that the term “sinners” does not refer to the moral capacity of Jesus’ acquaintances. Rather, it is a label given to someone who lived some kind of habitual lifestyle. What this lifestyle is, is not clear. But what is clear, is that the Pharisees and legal experts knew what this lifestyle was and who these people were. In our language today, we would likely call the people Jesus was hanging out with as marginal. Meaning coming from the margins of society. The kind that our parents warned you about. You know. The acquaintances who could get you into trouble. 

When his critics start to grumble about this, Jesus tells them three parables. What’s interesting about these parables is that they all refer to being lost. And being found.

The first one is about a lost sheep. My dad was a sheep rancher. He did not have a high opinion of the intellectual capacity of these animals. In fact, he just thought they were dumb. It was not unusual for a lamb or a ewe or a ram to get caught up in a barbed wire fence, because, you know, the grass looked just a bit better on the other side. In the parable Jesus shares, one of a hundred has gone missing. The shepherd, who is concerned for the sheep, but maybe even more aware of the value of that missing animal and the financial loss he will suffer, leaves the ninety-nine behind to go search for that one, lost sheep. Not so smart. Just lost. And when the shepherd finds it, he celebrates. Because this animal is of value to him. 

The second parable is about a lost coin. I wonder if the woman is a little like me. Stashing a little cash in places and then completely forgetting where she puts it. Whatever is happened, her coin, which also is of great value to her, is missing. So, she, like the shepherd, begins to search for it. Using a light to illuminate the dark places of her home, moving out the furniture so she can search behind it, so that she might find this one lost coin. And she does. And when she does, she, again like the shepherd, has a party to celebrate. Because this coin has value.

Then, we come to the story that we often call the “Parable of the Prodigal Son.” It’s better named the “Parable of the Forgiving Father.” We know this story backwards and forwards, don’t we? The younger son, squandering a fortune he shouldn’t have even asked for. Who finds himself in a pigsty. Stinky and smelly. Likely covered in mud and slop. And realizes what a fool he has been. Whether he recognizes his mistake or recognizes his loss, he returns home. Asking for forgiveness. And he receives it in the most extravagant way. Because he, like the sheep, like the coin, is of the deepest value.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve been feeling a little lost lately. We could all probably name the same things - the same lost-ness we’re feeling right now. The same things we’ve been feeling for a year now. A year. A year that, in some ways, kind of feels lost, too. And maybe our sense of lostness is accidental, like the coin. Or maybe our sense of lostness is because of a lack of intellectual capacity. Or maybe, just maybe, this feeling of being lost is because we have realized that, as much as we think we can do this life alone, we can’t. We just can’t.

But, for us. For you and I, this isn’t the end of the story. Because, like the shepherd and the woman, we have a God who relentlessly seeks us. And even if we’re like the prodigal son, finally realizing our own foolishness, we have a God who welcomes us back. Fully. With open arms and a huge celebration to boot. The same God who places such value on you and I and the Pharisees and legal experts and the ragtag bunch of sinners in Jesus’ circle - this same God values all of us so much that God sent God’s one and only Son. To restore us back into relationship with this relentlessly searching, warmly welcoming God. So that we - you and I and all people - might be lost no more.

Let the party begin. Amen.

Preached March 7, 2021, online with Grace & Glory and Third Lutheran churches, Goshen/Louisville, KY.

Third Sunday of Lent

Readings: Luke 15:1-32; Psalm 119:176

 

Journey to the Cross: True Repentance

Let me begin today by saying, up front, that these are hard texts. They are often avoided by us because, in part, they raise the difficult question of why human tragedies occur and why people suffer. And, in this particular moment, as we are living through a very difficult and dark time, reflecting on why there is suffering may hit very close to home. We have just passed a horrendous milestone in this pandemic. Half a million people dead in our nation. Two and a half million fathers, mothers, sons, daughters lost across the world. Why? We might ask. Why did they have to die? What evil did they do to cause this? What evil did I do to cause this? Why did they die and not me? 

When we experience human tragedy like this past year and at other times, asking these questions is natural and human. And quite impossible to answer. This is why we tend to stay away from this part of Luke. Because it raises hard questions. And, because, it gives us no ready-made answers. 

But, today, as we journey, we will attempt to understand what Jesus is teaching his disciples. And us. We read in Luke, chapter 13. Today, I am reading from the Common English Bible.

Some who were present on that occasion told Jesus about the Galileans whom Pilate had killed while they were offering sacrifices. He replied, “Do you think the suffering of these Galileans proves that they were more sinful than all the other Galileans? No, I tell you, but unless you change your hearts and lives, you will die just as they did. What about those eighteen people who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them? Do you think that they were more guilty of wrongdoing than everyone else who lives in Jerusalem? No, I tell you, but unless you change your hearts and lives, you will die just as they did.” --Luke 13:1-5 (CEB)

As the story begins, Jesus continues on his way to Jerusalem. He’s been teaching the many disciples who are following him about what it means to be faithful people. In the midst of this, someone comes and tells Jesus of a gruesome crime that Pilate has perpetrated. 

We know the name. Pontius Pilate, although often referred to as the Roman governor of Judea, is more correctly the commander of the Roman auxiliary troops based in Judea to maintain control over the Jewish people. There is little known about Pilate other than that he has a reputation of greed, cruelty, and inflexibility.  He treated Jewish customs and religious beliefs with contempt and would deliberately provoke the Jewish people by placing Roman military flags in the temple and by confiscating the temple treasury, things that his predecessors had avoided. 

So, what’s the crime that Pilate has committed as it’s reported to Jesus? Pilate has killed worshipers in the temple who have traveled all the way from Galilee in the north to Jerusalem in the south, to offer their sacrifices before God. To make matters worse, the blood of these faithful has run together with the blood of the sacrifices they have offered. So, it was not only murder, but also a sacrilege. It might bring to mind for us the assassination of Archbishop Thomas Becket in the Middle Ages, while he was in Canterbury Cathedral. Or, in more recent times, of the murder of Archbishop Oscar Romero as he conducted communion in a church in El Salvador. 

Now, let’s be honest here. We know, as we read through Luke, that there is little love lost between the people of Judea and the Galileans. Many Jews viewed those in Galilee as second-rate Jews, somewhere between true Jews and heathen Gentiles. So, those making the report are, actually, raising several questions in one. First, the age-old question of the reason for such meaningless suffering. But, there’s also a suggestion here that what has happened to the Galileans has, in some respect, been deserved, because they were viewed as less faithful than other Jews. It’s why Jesus asks the question, “Do you think that these Galileans were worse sinners than other Galileans?” And then, it’s why he sharpens the question, bringing it closer to home by referring to another incident in Jerusalem. “Do you think that the eighteen people on whom the tower of Siloam fell and killed deserved it because they were more sinful than others in Jerusalem?”

Now, we may think that we think differently than this. But I wonder if we do. How many of us, when we’ve seen people suffering from famine in another country, wonder just for a moment if this might be happening because of something they did or didn't do. Or when we see suffering in the inner city, we wonder if it's because of their sin and the life mistakes they've made. Or what about the poor. And the commonly held belief that I often hear expressed that, if they’d only made better choices. What’s the right choice when one has to choose between paying the rent or putting food on the table?

Jesus takes it one step further, then, in the text, to show us that we are posing the question in the wrong way. The surprising thing is not that so many die, but that we still live. Because, if it were a matter of sin, we would all be dead. Twice, Jesus says, “Unless you repent, you will all likewise perish.” And, then he tells a parable, which is where we continue in our reading.

Jesus told this parable: “A man owned a fig tree planted in his vineyard. He came looking for fruit on it and found none. He said to his gardener, ‘Look, I’ve come looking for fruit on this fig tree for the past three years, and I’ve never found any. Cut it down! Why should it continue depleting the soil’s nutrients?’ The gardener responded, ‘Lord, give it one more year, and I will dig around it and give it fertilizer. Maybe it will produce fruit next year; if not, then you can cut it down.’” --Luke 13:6-9 (CEB)

What’s the meaning of this parable for Jesus’ listeners? It means that those who survive - the Galileans not killed by Pilate, or those Jews on whom the tower did not fall, or those of us who have not died from famine, or those who are not poor - are living only by the grace of God. And that our continued life is for the purpose of bearing fruit.

Now this passage is often used by those who preach the “prosperity gospel.” That the good things we receive are a reward for our faith and our fruitfulness. But, in fact, the truth Jesus speaks here is exactly the opposite. Notice that the fig tree that is receiving special care is getting it because it has yet to give the fruit it was meant to bear. It’s a reminder for us who live in comfortable houses, when so many are homeless, or enjoy a substantial income when so many are poor, or all kinds of food to eat when so many are hungry, or a relatively healthy body when so many are ill - that we have all of this not because we have been particularly faithful. And could it be that the reason why some of us have been given all these advantages is that, without them, we would have difficulty bearing fruit? Could it also be that our apparent advantages and privileges are also a warning about impending doom unless we bear fruit?

Repentance - true repentance - is less about shame and guilt and more about begging the Holy Spirit to turn us around. To help us reorient how we think. And how we live. Because our tendency is not much different as was the tendency of people in Jesus’ day.

Our reading continues in chapter 13. 

At that time, some Pharisees approached Jesus and said, “Go! Get away from here, because Herod wants to kill you.”

Jesus said to them, “Go, tell that fox, ‘Look, I’m throwing out demons and healing people today and tomorrow, and on the third day I will complete my work. However, it’s necessary for me to travel today, tomorrow, and the next day because it’s impossible for a prophet to be killed outside of Jerusalem.’

“Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those who were sent to you! How often I have wanted to gather your people just as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings. But you didn’t want that. Look, your house is abandoned. I tell you, you won’t see me until the time comes when you say, Blessings on the one who comes in the Lord’s name.” --Luke 13:31-35 (CEB)

Jesus knows our tendencies. It’s why, no matter the threat that Herod represents, he will continue his journey to Jerusalem, even as he laments the city’s disobedience. Because his desire is to give them another chance. Just as with the fig tree, also given a second chance. And like us, too. Given another chance purely by the grace of God in Jesus Christ. May we, nurtured by the love and care of Jesus, repent and turn around that we might bear fruit as God’s faithful people. Here. In this time and this place. Amen.

Preached February 28, 2021, online with Third Lutheran and Grace & Glory Lutheran churches, Louisville/Goshen, KY.

Second Sunday of Lent

Readings: Psalm 122, Luke 13:1-9, 31-35

Journey to the Cross: Crossing Boundaries

It all started for me this week with a Facebook post. Now, some of you already know that I am fasting this Lent from social media. But, this post was from Monday in a clergy group discussing this week’s text from Luke 10. It was a new perspective on one of our stories today - the story of Mary and Martha. I’ll share that perspective in just a moment. But, the post led to a long, at times heated, discussion about the traditional interpretation of this story, which seems to pit the acts of service and listening to God’s Word against each other, as well as two sisters.  

What’s also interesting though, today, is that our text includes two stories. The story of Mary and Martha, but also the story that immediately precedes it - of the Good Samaritan. The juxtaposition of stories in scripture is important. And when two stories are placed immediately adjacent and these same two stories are only featured in one of the four gospels, well, it’s time to sit up and take notice. 

We read in Luke, chapter 10, verse 25, where it all begins with a question.

Just then a lawyer stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he said, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?” He said to him, “What is written in the law? What do you read there?” He answered, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself.” And he said to him, “You have given the right answer; do this, and you will live.”

But wanting to justify himself, he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”

Notice that the lawyer comes to Jesus not with a good intent, but to test him. The first problem with his question is that he asks what he must do to inherit eternal life. I don’t know about you, but the last time I inherited something, it wasn’t because of anything I’d done. This is the same, isn’t it, with eternal life? We are invited by God into a full life, not by what we do, but by what God does. Grace. 

To answer, Jesus, as he often does, responds with a question or two. “What is written? What do you read?” he asks. A better translation of that second question is “How do you read?” It’s an implication that our perspective and the lens through which we read scripture can drive our interpretation. 

The lawyer responds to Jesus: “Love God and love your neighbor as yourself.” Again, the full life God calls us to isn’t about what we do. However, to not respond to God’s grace by serving neighbor cheapens God’s actions toward us. Jesus tells him his answer is correct, that doing this will give him life. But, the lawyer isn’t finished yet. He’s got one more question for Jesus. “And who is my neighbor?” Jesus responds with a story, one we know well. Or do we?

We continue with verse 30. Jesus replied, “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell into the hands of robbers, who stripped him, beat him, and went away, leaving him half dead. Now by chance a priest was going down that road; and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. So likewise a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan while traveling came near him; and when he saw him, he was moved with pity. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, having poured oil and wine on them. Then he put him on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him. The next day he took out two denarii, gave them to the innkeeper, and said, ‘Take care of him; and when I come back, I will repay you whatever more you spend.’ Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?” He said, “The one who showed him mercy.” Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.”

We know this story. How the priest and the Levite, both men who should have been the ones to stop and help this man, wounded and dying at the side of the road, pass by him. On the other side, no less. Not even stopping to check his condition. It’s only the Samaritan who stops to help. A man who would have been on the cultural edge of Israel - an “other” in our language today. I don’t think the first two men were evil. Perhaps, as Martin Luther King wrote, they just got the question wrong. The question they ask themselves is “If I stop to help this man, what will happen to me?” Instead, the Samaritan asks the question, “If I do not stop to help this man, what will happen to him?” It’s a perspective that is outward looking, teaching us that discipleship in response to God’s grace is focused on service to others, even if it means we cross cultural boundaries. 

Immediately after this exchange, we then move in Luke to the second story for today, beginning at verse 38. Now as they went on their way, he entered a certain village, where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home. She had a sister named Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to what he was saying. But Martha was distracted by her many tasks; so she came to him and asked, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her then to help me.” But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.”

We finished the previous story talking about crossing cultural boundaries. These aren't only ethnic or racial boundaries. They are also boundaries of gender. The gospel of Luke crosses boundaries. It features more women in it than the three other gospels combined. Notice in this story that Jesus goes to the home of Mary and Martha. By himself. This, in itself would have been a cultural “no-no.”  

The story of Mary and Martha is familiar to us. We’ve heard it many times before.  It’s a story that as it has traditionally been interpreted pits sister against sister, woman against woman - placing hospitality and service against making time for study. Today, I’d like to offer an alternative perspective, first introduced by theologian Mary Hanson in 2014. It may get a little theologically nerdy. But, I think it’s important to hear this voice, a voice that comes from the cultural edge of theological circles.  

The basic gist behind her perspective is that by repeating for generations the traditional interpretation of this story without re-evaluating it - an interpretation first preached by Origen, a Christian scholar from the third century. Hanson’s claim is that this interpretation has left many unsolved questions and contradictions. One example of this is that it contradicts Jesus’ own words from the beginning of the chapter. Here, Jesus is sending the 70 disciples out into mission. He lifts up the positive aspect of hospitality and service. Then, later on in chapter 22, sets himself up as the example of a “servant.” It’s a direct contradiction to the very things that, under the traditional interpretation of this story, Martha is condemned for. 

Now, I won't go into the theological and exegetical details of her perspective now. I will in our Learning time after worship today. Hanson’s premise is that both Mary and Martha are known to be “sitters at the feet of Jesus, listening to his words,” a phrase that is often simply used to describe being a disciple. But, here’s the interesting part. Her claim is that Mary is not even present. That she is away from the house, leaving all of the work for Martha. But, this isn’t necessarily household work we’re talking about. The word for work in Greek comes from the room diakonia, which, is where we get the phrase “diaconal minister” from. The implication is not that Martha is distracted by household work, but potentially by her work of ministry, which might include leadership in a house church. She’s feeling overwhelmed and overburdened and is asking Jesus to tell Mary to return to help her. Where is Mary? Our text never tells us, but there are hints earlier in the chapter. Is it possible that Mary was one of the 70 sent out to evangelize? Whatever the case, when Jesus notes that she is “worried and distracted” it is not a reference to a boiling pot on a stove. There’s a sense in the Greek words used here that there much more going on, perhaps even a sense of unrest or disturbance for which Martha is deeply concerned over Mary’s well-being, wherever she may be. 

It’s only been since Wednesday that we heard the words of Jesus about what it means to leave people and things behind to follow him. If we are open to the interpretation of this story, it’s a lesson for us in discipleship and it’s costs, as with the story of the Samaritan. For Martha, it means the emotional stress of leadership and, also, the possibility of deep concern for her own sister’s welfare. For the Samaritan, it's about concern for neighbor, especially when it might put us or our perspective at risk.   

Discipleship is not intended to be easy. It may require hard decisions. It may demand risk and sacrifice. It may also require, as we see in Luke’s gospel, listening to other voices, especially those that have not been heard. 

But, we have an example to follow. In Jesus, who gives the ultimate sacrifice and who moves across boundaries and borders to change our world. As we journey alongside him to the cross this Lent, may we be reminded once again what it means to be his disciples. And may God renew us as we travel. Amen. 

Preached February 21, 2021, online at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church and Third Lutheran Church.

First Sunday of Lent.

Readings: Luke 10:25-42, Psalm 15

Jesus Heals: My Chosen One

Now about eight days after these sayings Jesus took with him Peter and John and James, and went up on the mountain to pray. And while he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly they saw two men, Moses and Elijah, talking to him. They appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem. Now Peter and his companions were weighed down with sleep; but since they had stayed awake, they saw his glory and the two men who stood with him. Just as they were leaving him, Peter said to Jesus, “Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah”—not knowing what he said. While he was saying this, a cloud came and overshadowed them; and they were terrified as they entered the cloud. Then from the cloud came a voice that said, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!” When the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone. And they kept silent and in those days told no one any of the things they had seen.

On the next day, when they had come down from the mountain, a great crowd met him. Just then a man from the crowd shouted, “Teacher, I beg you to look at my son; he is my only child. Suddenly a spirit seizes him, and all at once he shrieks. It convulses him until he foams at the mouth; it mauls him and will scarcely leave him. I begged your disciples to cast it out, but they could not.” Jesus answered, “You faithless and perverse generation, how much longer must I be with you and bear with you? Bring your son here.” While he was coming, the demon dashed him to the ground in convulsions. But Jesus rebuked the unclean spirit, healed the boy, and gave him back to his father. And all were astounded at the greatness of God.

While everyone was amazed at all that he was doing, he said to his disciples, “Let these words sink into your ears: The Son of Man is going to be betrayed into human hands.” But they did not understand this saying; its meaning was concealed from them, so that they could not perceive it. And they were afraid to ask him about this saying. --Luke 9:28-45 (NRSV)

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

It’s a big leap for us today as we jump from the seventh chapter of Luke to the ninth chapter. In between, we see Jesus’ continue to minister. To teach. And to heal, particularly those dealing with demons. At the beginning of chapter 9, the disciples are ready to be sent out. Jesus gives them power and authority over all demons and to cure diseases, verse 1 tells us. They go out into the countryside as extensions of Jesus himself, reliant upon the hospitality of those they will meet. 

At the same time, we hear the Herod is perplexed. He’s already arrested and beheaded John the Baptist. But, now he’s hearing about someone new. And even tries to see Jesus.

The disciples return and report all that they have done. As the day drew to a close, surrounded by a crowd, they are witness to God’s way of abundance - over 5,000 men, not including women and children, fed that day from five loaves of bread and two fish. It leads Peter to make a declaration about Jesus - that he truly is “the Messiah of God.” When he does, Jesus sternly tells them not to say anything. Instead, he continues to teach them what it means to be his followers. “If any want to become my followers,” Jesus tells them, let them deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me.” Discipleship, as they are learning, is not easy.

Then we come to today’s text. Eight days later. Jesus, as we’ve seen him do before, goes away to a quiet place to pray. This time it is on a mountaintop. And this time he takes with him those who are in his inner circle - Peter, John and James - the first of the twelve disciples. As Jesus is praying, as we heard in our text, the appearance of his face changes. As does his clothing. Then, suddenly, Moses and Elijah appear beside him, talking to him about his departure. His departure. Luke alone uses this word in the Greek - a better translation of which is “exodus.” Moses, Elijah and Jesus are talking about the exodus of Jesus. It immediately throws our mind backward. Drawing a comparison between Jesus and Israel. An echo of how the story began. The exodus story. Just one part of God’s meta-narrative. A story arc that begins even further back than the exodus to the very beginning. And the reason for that first exodus.

To the beginning of God’s story. Where God creates everything. And it is good. And then the relationship between God and humanity is broken. Over and over again, God relentlessly tries to restore that relationship. Beginning first with Israel. Calling Moses to lead Israel out of bondage. Israel’s exodus from Egypt. That they will be blessed as God’s people and through whom all people will be blessed. Led by Moses, who experiences his own theophany - his own God-sighting. On Mt. Sinai in the midst of the terrifying thunder and lightning. Witness to a God so powerful that Moses cannot even look into God’s face. Yet, whose own face becomes transfigured, like that of Jesus.

But, this attempt by God to restore the relationship does not work. Even when God sends prophets, like Elijah. Elijah, who has his own theophany, his own God sighting. But not like that of Moses. Instead, as Elijah flees Jezebel and Ahab (remember that story?), God appears to him at Mt. Horeb, also known as Sinai. God comes not as Elijah expects. Not in the wind. Not in the earthquake, not in the fire. But in sheer, sheer silence.

Even with the prophets, Israel continues to rebel. It’s the human way, isn’t it. Our way. Thinking that we know better. Seeking our own power apart from God. Like the disciples, who, even after witnessing this transfiguration moment don’t fully get it. That God still wants us. Still relentlessly seeks us. Who sends Jesus to us to once and for all restore the broken relationship. Jesus, God’s Son, breaking into our world in human form. Who has come to begin the restoration of the wholeness and abundance and goodness first tasted at the very beginning in Eden. 

The transfiguration of Jesus in Luke marks the beginning of his exodus. He will now turn his face toward Jerusalem and move into the final chapter of his incarnated life on earth. It will bring the beginning - not the end - but the beginning of the restoration of freedom for all humanity and all creation. It is a story about transformation - the hoped outcome for the church, which will be given power and authority to heal and to transform people into disciples. Disciples - you and me - to transform the world into the kingdom of God. This is the gospel. The good news of Jesus. 

As we now turn our faces with Jesus to Jerusalem. As we enter the season of Lent, a time that, once again, gives us an opportunity to move into deeper relationship with a God who loves us so deeply and who desires nothing for us other than Eden’s shalom, these are the questions for us. How will we meet God? How will we be transfigured? And how will we transform our small part of the world?

Preached February 14, 2021, at Grace & Glory Lutheran and Third Lutheran churches, Goshen and Louisville, KY

Transfiguration of Our Lord

Readings: Luke 9:25-48; Psalm 36:5-10

Revelation of the Son of Man: Lord of the Sabbath

One sabbath while Jesus was going through the grainfields, his disciples plucked some heads of grain, rubbed them in their hands, and ate them. But some of the Pharisees said, “Why are you doing what is not lawful on the sabbath?” Jesus answered, “Have you not read what David did when he and his companions were hungry? He entered the house of God and took and ate the bread of the Presence, which it is not lawful for any but the priests to eat, and gave some to his companions?” Then he said to them, “The Son of Man is lord of the sabbath.”

On another sabbath he entered the synagogue and taught, and there was a man there whose right hand was withered. The scribes and the Pharisees watched him to see whether he would cure on the sabbath, so that they might find an accusation against him. Even though he knew what they were thinking, he said to the man who had the withered hand, “Come and stand here.” He got up and stood there. Then Jesus said to them, “I ask you, is it lawful to do good or to do harm on the sabbath, to save life or to destroy it?” After looking around at all of them, he said to him, “Stretch out your hand.” He did so, and his hand was restored. But they were filled with fury and discussed with one another what they might do to Jesus.

Now during those days he went out to the mountain to pray; and he spent the night in prayer to God. And when day came, he called his disciples and chose twelve of them, whom he also named apostles: Simon, whom he named Peter, and his brother Andrew, and James, and John, and Philip, and Bartholomew, and Matthew, and Thomas, and James son of Alphaeus, and Simon, who was called the Zealot, and Judas son of James, and Judas Iscariot, who became a traitor. --Luke 1:1-16 (NRSV)

I deeply empathize with the Pharisees in our text today. Perhaps it's our human nature to want to find someone to blame in a conflict. As though the lines are clearly drawn. That everything is either black or
white. That there’s no gray area whatsoever.

The Pharisees have been misunderstood and misaligned for centuries. While they are often described as rule-keepers or as those who maintain the regulations of religious observance in scripture, they are anything but. In fact, one of the primary gifts of the Pharisees to the Jewish religious observance in Jesus’ time is a democratization of it. That devotional practice could be followed anywhere or by anyone without direct oversight by religious leaders. In fact, the Pharisees of Jesus’ day could be categorized today as mainline Protestants. Like us. 

So, then, you might ask, what’s the point of these three little vignettes that make up our reading today? The first two that are connected to healing and a controversy around the Sabbath. And, then, the third that is the story of Jesus choosing the twelve.

Let me begin at the ending. Because the story of Jesus calling the twelve apostles connects to our story from last week, where Jesus called Peter. In the time between last week’s story and today’s, it is apparent that Jesus’ power and authority is growing. Through his acts of healing and his speaking and teaching, his influence is expanding. The religious leaders are beginning to take note. And to push back, challenging who this Jesus is and under whose authority he is operating. 

As this buzz and murmuring is growing, we come to the beginning of our story today. Two examples of “breaking” the sabbath that involve Jesus and his, not-yet-formally-called, disciples. Notice that in his comments, Jesus never dismisses or devalues the Sabbath. He does not claim that the Sabbath is unimportant. Instead, Jesus makes two important claims about it.

The first. That he is Lord of the Sabbath, and not the other way around. The Sabbath does not dictate Jesus’s actions. His statement justifies Sabbath observance, but perhaps with a modification. That modification is the second claim that Jesus makes - that doing good on the Sabbath is lawful. 

Now, maybe for us today, it’s hard relate. After all, It has been centuries since the Christian church has kept the “true” Sabbath, from dusk on Friday to dusk on Saturday. And, in these last many decades, it’s questionable whether even the “Lord’s Day” or Sunday is still observed as a Sabbath in our culture. I wonder how many of us, pre-pandemic, would not hesitate to meet friends for brunch after worship, or to stop by the grocery store, or to mow the lawn, or to attend a soccer match. All of which could be, technically, violations of God’s Sabbath command. 

Perhaps, for us in our time, it’s not so much the question of the Sabbath that really matters here, but that what is more at stake are the underlying issues in this conflict. The question that lies under the challenge of the Pharisees to Jesus and under Jesus’ response to them, and, also, underneath Luke’s decision to include these stories in his story, is about how we, as people of God, hold onto our traditions in light of a world and in the midst of circumstances in our world that are ever-changing.

By claiming authority over the Sabbath, Jesus is reminding us that God is the one who has authority over, not only the Sabbath, but over the people who steward the practices and institutions given by God. Reminding us that institutions that resist the ministry of Jesus are acting contrary to God’s purpose in the world. 

What is this ministry of Jesus? He sets it out to the Pharisees, and to us, in the question he asks in verse 9. “Is it lawful to do good or to do harm on the sabbath, to save life or to destroy it?” That’s the test for us. It is to ask ourselves whether or not we should hold onto traditions that destroy life and do harm. Or whether we should modify our practices in ways that are life giving and good. 

Both of our congregations have long traditions as Reconciling in Christ communities. Claiming this identity publicly means that we are communities that are committed to welcome, to inclusion, to the celebration and advocacy for all people of all sexual orientations, gender identities and gender expressions; with a commitment to anti-racism and to working for racial equity. We do this because this is consistent with God’s purpose in the world. Which is never about death or doing harm to others, but always about life and wholeness, abundance and goodness for everyone. 

May we celebrate this today about our communities of faith. But, mostly, may we celebrate this about our God. Amen.

Preached on January 31, 2021, with Grace & Glory and Third Lutheran churches.

Fifth Sunday after Epiphany

Readings: Luke 6:1-16; Psalm 92