Luke's Gospel | Michael Valliant

Live Now What Matters Forever

Background: My August preaching weekend at Christ Church Easton gave me Luke 12:13-21, where Jesus tells the Parable of the Rich Fool, who wants to build bigger barns to store all his stuff. Following is the text of my sermon.

“Live Now What Matters Forever”

There is a lot going on in today’s Gospel reading that gets my mind and my heart churning.

Someone in the crowd says to Jesus, “Teacher, tell my brother to divide the family inheritance with me.”

And Jesus’s answer may seem for our day and time like one of the most un-Jesus responses we can imagine:

“Friend, who set me to be a judge or arbitrator over you?”

Some followers of Jesus today like to lift absolutely everything up for Jesus to help us to make our decisions, to settle our disputes.

But Jesus may say to us sometimes, “That sounds like ‘your problem.’ That sounds like something you guys are going to have to figure out for yourselves.”

Certainly, this nameless person from the crowd has his own self-interest in mind and wants to get the teacher he looks up to, to weigh in on his side, to tell his brother to give him some money and some land.

It may astonish us that in dealing with family matters, Jesus’s answer to us might be, “Friend, who set me to be a judge or arbitrator over you?”

Not the answer we were hoping for.

One of the reasons Jesus doesn’t have an interest in answering this question or settling this dispute is that he sees it is leading the person, his brother, and the crowd in a bad direction. If this is the kind of question you really want to spend your time with Jesus going through, you’ve got a bigger problem.

Greed and hoarding possessions are not going to help you. And then Jesus does one of the most Jesus things he does when asked questions.

He says, “Let me tell you a story…”

I love that Jesus’s answer to some of the most vexing questions and profound problems when the crowds press him for answers is… “Let me tell you a story.”

Franciscan and author Richard Rohr says:

“The way Jesus usually answers questions is by telling a story. There is creative and healing power in a story. It doesn’t avoid the question, it goes to the root of the question… That’s the way the great masters of religion always taught—by simply telling stories and giving the soul room to grow and understand.”

If Jesus gives them an answer, they are done thinking about the matter. It doesn’t help them grow; it doesn’t help them understand the deeper currents that are underneath the question.

Jesus’s parables work on us. They stick with us. And their meanings move around for us.

Teacher of preachers Tom Long wrote a book on Jesus’s parables and the word he uses for parable is “riddle.” Long says:

“One of the best definitions of parable is: riddle. A parable is a riddle, there is some puzzle to be solved, some enigma to be plumbed. And the thing about Jesus’s parables, just when you think you’ve got it… a trap door opens and you fall down into a deeper level of mystery. By the way, I think insufficient attention is given to the fact that we serve a Jesus whose favorite method of teaching was not rule, law, spiritual truth, principle, but riddle… All this is to say, that parables, and particularly Jesus’s parables aren’t clear, cut and dry, and don’t lend themselves to a quick and easy interpretation, or they wouldn’t be doing their job.”

Jesus told them this story, this riddle:

The land of a rich man produced abundantly. And he thought to himself, `What should I do, for I have nowhere to store my crops?’ Then he said, `I’ve got an idea: I will pull down my barns and build bigger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods. And I will say to my soul, `Soul, you have plenty of goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry.’

But God said to him, `You fool! This very night your life is being demanded of you. And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?’

If our most pressing question of Jesus is to solve our inheritance problems, to solve our financial problems, Jesus says, I’ve got a warning for you—you might be focusing on the wrong things. It’s not that money isn’t important, but it can cause us to lose focus on the biggest things in life… which includes the fact that we don’t know how much time we have in this life.

I absolutely love how Richard Rohr brings this parable and this reading to a point. He says:

“‘Live now what matters in eternity’ is Jesus’s message. Live on earth what’s happening in heaven… That’s the kingdom: live now what matters forever.”

LIVE NOW WHAT MATTERS FOREVER. There’s your bumper sticker or your t-shirt from today’s Gospel. There is something to tape to your mirror or above your coffeemaker, or somewhere you’ll see it every morning when you wake up.

There is a poet named Maggie Smith whose work I am a big fan of. She always seems to bring big issues and questions into the here-and-now in ways that stick with me. When she posts on social media, she’ll often use the heading “Life lately” and include a bunch of pictures and captions of what’s been going on with her.

“Life lately” for me has been Clinical and Pastoral Education—Rev. Kelsey and I have three weeks left out of our 16-week programthat is our last requirement to be ordained as priests. In my experience, seminary helps train your brain, CPE helps mold your heart.

Sitting with and opening myself up to strangers, and sometimes friends, who are in the hospital, softens my heart in ways that I couldn’t have predicted.

Last week at the Easton Hospital, I checked in on an older gentleman who was eating his lunch. I introduced myself as the chaplain for the day, and he said, “What denomination are you?” I said, “Episcopal.” He said, “Good, that’s the only good one!”

Over the next hour he told me his entire life story: father died when he was nine, military school, jobs he had, marriages, divorces, kids dying, mistakes he made, luck he has had, good times, bad times, and when he was wrapping things up he said, “Now you’ve heard my confession.”

Sometimes visits go that way. I get a sense of someone who is in the hospital, in some cases they are lonely, they are stuck in bed in a place they would rather not be and their main interaction is with medical staff who are responsible for a whole lot of people and don’t have time to address things like loneliness, anxiety, fear; they don’t have time to hear someone’s story; to come alongside them and be present with them for a few minutes, for an hour.

The time we spend together matters. A personsitting in the hospital can feel seen and heard and human, even if just for a little while.

LIVE NOW WHAT MATTERS FOREVER.

During the announcements, my friend Jack Anthony is going to tell you a story about Stephen Ministry. Stephen Ministry is a program that became a part of Christ Church in 2005 and that trains people to walk beside someone going through a difficult time in their lives. There are more than 100 people in our congregation over these last 20 years who have responded to a call in their hearts to learn to be more loving, more empathetic, more compassionate; to be better listeners, and to make themselves available for people who are hurting. Last year, my wife Holly went through the training and became a Stephen Minister. And the whole experience has blessed her in amazing ways. They are offering the next training this fall. Maybe it is something that speaks to you.

What I am learning in CPE and what you learn through becoming a Stephen Minister is very similar. How to listen. How to be present. What love looks like when the conditions aren’t perfect.

These are not skills or experience that apply only to visiting a hospital or spending time with a care receiver.

“Life lately.” I helped with a celebration of life on Friday for a man and family I have known since I was in elementary school. The man’s name was Ed Bishop, one of the kindest human beings I have ever met. People got up and told stories. A neighbor pointed out that even after almost 60 years married, Ed and his wife Wendy wouldn’t feed the birds without each other because they loved doing it together. The number of people there Friday who were in their late 50’s and showed up with their families who said that they learned what unconditional love and kindness were from being friends with the Bishops’ two sons and seeing these qualitieson full display from their parents. Ed Bishop lived now what matters forever and showed people what that looks like.

At the service, I got to catch up with a number of long-time friends who I hadn’t seen in quite a while. My daughters are 23 and 20 years old. Some of my friends have younger kids and I’ve heard a few times lately, “it must be nice to have your kids out from under, working, not needing you all the time.”

I look back at the years when the girls were under foot, and it takes a lot of time and energy to get through all of that. But I found that most of the problems that they had then, I could fix. I could do something about. Tie a shoe. Clean a cut and put a Band-Aid on it. Drive them to school. Decide who got to pick the movie they would watch.

The problems the girls have now, I can’t fix. I can’t solve for them. Heartbreak, relationships,loneliness, anxiety. Epilepsy. Seizures. These things above my pay grade.

You know what I have found that I can offer? Time. Presence. Love. I can be there. I can listen. I can come alongside them. We can do life together.

We can live now what matters forever.

Each of us has that chance every day. If Jesus had continued his parable, his story, and given us an alternative to building bigger barns, I’d bet it would be a story of showing love and care to people who need it. That’s the kingdom Jesus wants to help us build.

Living the Gospel: vulnerable, dependent, together

Background: Last weekend was a preaching weekend for me at Christ Church Easton. The Gospel reading for the lectionary was Luke 10:1-11, 16-20, where Jesus sends 70 followers out ahead of him to towns and place he will go, with specific instructions as to how they are to interact with people. Following is the transcript of my sermon.

“Living the Gospel: vulnerable, dependent, together”

In last week’s reading, we saw Jesus set his face toward Jerusalem and send people ahead to get things ready for him. The disciples were not well received when they got to a village of Samaritans. This made John and James furious and they wanted to send fire from heaven to consume the Samaritans. Not a very neighborly thing to do.

Jesus rebuked them; he told James and John, this is not how we do things and he gave a series of teachings about how the disciples needed to set their priorities if they were going to follow him.

Last week’s reading was a bit of precursor to this reading, as now Jesus gets 70 people together, he’s not just talking to the 12. And now he’s giving specific instructions to this larger group as he sends them out ahead of him to the towns and places he is going.

No more of this raining down fire from heaven, here’s what I want you all to do:

First of all, “the harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few.” So we need laborers. What a great place to start. It’s out there, there is abundance—this work you are doing is needed. Given the reception in the last village, that might not be a foregone conclusion to some of Jesus’s disciples, but he sees abundance where others might see scarcity.

“Go on your way. See, I am sending you out like lambs into the midst of wolves. Carry no purse, no bag, no sandals; and greet no one on the road.”

Whenever I hear “sending you out like lambs into the midst of wolves,” I am waiting for that qualifying line, “so be as wise as serpents, but as innocent as doves.” But that’s from Matthew’s Gospel, we don’t get that spelled out in Luke. The disciples just go out like lambs.

Jesus is sending these 70 followers out into a hostile world that may not receive them well, and instead of arming them for battle, he points out their vulnerability. Not only will we not call down fire from heaven, you all are going out like lambs. No purse, or bag, or sandals.

Sending them out as lambs, he is sending them intentionally vulnerable, vulnerable by design. Why would he do that?

If you Google vulnerability today, it’s a guarantee that you will find a slew of quotes from social worker and storyteller Brene Brown. And here is a quote of hers from a book study we did that speaks to what Jesus may have had in mind:

“Vulnerability is the birthplace of love, belonging, joy, courage, empathy, and creativity. It is the source of hope, empathy, accountability, and authenticity. If we want greater clarity in our purpose or deeper and more meaningful spiritual lives, vulnerability is the path.” (Brene Brown, “Daring Greatly”)

Alright, Jesus. We’re getting vulnerable. Now what?

Go to their homes. Offer them peace. If they share in the peace you offer, it will rest on that person, if not it comes back to you. You are going to depend on the people in that house, eating and drinking whatever they give you.

Whenever you enter a town and they welcome you, eat what they give you, cure the sick and tell them the kingdom of God has come near to you.

If a town doesn’t welcome you, it’s the same message, the kingdom of God has come near.

One of the things that strikes me about this reading, Jesus isn’t teaching them theology, he isn’t giving them Scripture 101, he is instructing them in how to interact with people. How to go about their work, dependent on those in the towns and places the disciples are sent to.

In thinking about this, Franciscan Richard Rohr writes:

“All of Jesus’ rules of ministry here, his ‘tips for the road,’ are very interpersonal. They are based on putting people in touch with people. Person-to-person is the way the gospel was originally communicated. Person-in-love-with-person, person-respecting-person, person-forgiving-person, person-touching-person, person-crying-with-person, person-hugging-person: that’s where the Spirit is so beautifully present.” (Richard Rohr, “The Good News According to Luke”)

In fact, Rohr goes so far as to say, “The gospel happens between two or more people.”

Now, this is something to kick around a bit. Say I am sitting at home in the morning, having my coffee and prayer time, reading my Bible or doing a devotional, and I have a Holy Spirit moment. I feel touched by God; my heart is on fire; I see the interconnectedness of all people; I see how God’s love flows back and forth between us all; I am sure in my heart that I am a child of God.

Then I cut the grass. And I go to the grocery store. And I go about my business. And that realization I had in the morning has no apparent impact on my life. It doesn’t translate into how I love, how I treat other people, how I live.

Have I been true to the realization? If all I do is go to church services and read my Bible, and listen to sermons and music: has love, has grace transformed my life?

Here is one of Rohr’s most impactful thoughts for me. He says:

“The most a preacher does is entice you, attract you, and call you out of yourself to live a new kind of life. But the gospel cannot happen in your head alone. You never think yourself into a new way of living. You invariably “live” yourself into a new way of thinking.”

You don’t THINK yourself into a new way of LIVING. You LIVE yourself into a new way of THINKING.

I wonder if that’s what Jesus has in mind sending his disciples out: that you are going to learn and experience things on the road that I can’t simply teach you here, no matter how brilliant and deep the parable is.

You’ve got to get out there and take this peace, this good news, to others. That’s where the gospel is, that’s where love is, in our interactions with people. That’s where Jesus, that’s where Scripture, and that’s where the Holy Spirit sends us. Out.

When we open ourselves to this interpersonal gospel, this gospel that happens between two or more people, that’s where lasting transformation can happen. I know we are in an era of self-love, and self-love is hugely important—we get ourselves into trouble if we try to love our neighbor as ourselves, but we loathe ourselves, rather than love ourselves. Love yourself for sure.

But love ultimately calls us outside ourselves. Love is bigger than us. And if love is the most powerful force in the world… if God is love and we belong to God… it’s living out this love and experiencing what happens when it is shared and multiplied, that then changes our lives, and the world, in meaningful ways.

Jesus gives his 70 disciples his “tips for the road” and sends them out. And they come back filled with joy saying, Jesus! You were right! In your name even the demons submit to us!”

And Jesus says, “Right??” I’ve seen all this happen and I’ve given you this authority and it will keep you safe.

“Nevertheless, do not rejoice at this, that the spirits submit to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven.”

How do we make sense of that? David Lose, writing in “Feasting on the Word” says:

“Jesus declares there is something even more significant than the triumph of the 70… what matters more than the earthly and spiritual successes of Jesus’ followers is the eternal relationship with God they enjoy through him. This relationship is theirs by grace, for they are simultaneously recipients of, and heralds to, the grace and mercy of God embodied in Jesus.”

Jesus knew they were going to have success in the towns and places he sent them. He wanted them to experience that and that was exactly what they needed. And it’s exactly what we need from time to time.

But not all days are going to be like that and not all our encounters with people are going to be infused with love and leave us feeling love. What’s more important than the success of our ministries or our evangelism, is our relationship with God, which we experience through Jesus.

This relationship is theirs, and ours, by grace. And I love this: we are simultaneously RECIPIENTS OF, and HERALDS TO the grace and mercy of God embodied in Jesus.

Let’s go back to our morning coffee revelation, the one we experience by ourselves. There we have the realization: we are the recipients of God’s grace and love. Let’s think of it as light in a frequently dark world.

If we keep that light to ourselves, it doesn’t do much to spread the light that the world needs to get out of the darkness. So we take that light and we become heralds TO it, this grace and love that we are shown in Jesus.

Jesus sends the 70 disciples, and us, out with this light. He sends us out to others, in humility and vulnerability, asking us to be dependent on him and on those who we encounter.

But don’t lose focus. There will be great days. There will be crappy days. There will be in-between days. And sometimes all three in one day.

We can’t control those things. What we can do is rejoice and be grateful for our relationship with God. That we get to do this work, that we get to experience and share this light, this grace; that God is with us, and that this good news, this gospel of love that we share, is exactly what the world needs right now.

The 2025 Christ Church Easton/Diocese of Easton Mission Team in Wilmington, NC.

Let’s pray: Lord, you give us stories in Scripture for our learning, so that we can find you and find ourselves in them. Help us hear what your story is saying to each of our hearts. Let us locate where you are calling us, and how to amend our lives by your love and grace, so we can get there. And help us receive, experience, and share your gospel, your good news, in the world, with each other.

Amen.

Why Ascend? And then what?

Context: The first Sunday in June was a preaching weekend for me at Christ Church Easton. We celebrated and talked about Jesus’s Ascension into heaven, marking the end of the Easter season, moving the church calendar to Pentecost and the coming of the Holy Spirit. This is the text of the sermon I gave.

Why Ascend? And then what?

A couple years ago, I saw a comic strip about Jesus’s Ascension that sticks with me.

It’s Jesus and three disciples standing around. Jesus says, “Gotta go guys. Don’t forget what I taught you.” And then it shows Jesus’s feet as he ascends out off the page and the disciples say, “Bye, boss.”

They are standing around together and one asks, “So what have we learned?”

“Pretty much it’s love God and love your neighbor.”

“Well, that seems pretty simple, I don’t see how we can mess this…”

It shows a group is coming over the hill in their vestments and robes, with their hats and staffs, books, and scrolls. And the disciple says, “Uh-oh… Here come the theologians.”

And it sticks with me both because it strikes me as funny and that it’s on to something.

Jesus didn’t come to confuse us or complicate us. He came to set things right, so that we could get off the hamster wheel of sin and that instead we might have life in all its abundance.

We don’t have these stories and teachings in Scripture to vex us, but to help us.

In today’s reading, as he is about to leave the disciples, Jesus says:

“These are my words that I spoke to you while I was still with you– that everything written about me in the law of Moses, the prophets, and the psalms must be fulfilled… Thus it is written, that the Messiah is to suffer and to rise from the dead on the third day, and that repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem. You are witnesses of these things.”

Jesus has done what he came to do. The Word became flesh, lived among us, taught us, performed signs, died for us, conquered death, came back and showed us and told us all about it. As he is leaving, he is connecting all the dots and making sure the disciples get it.

He’s not giving them new information or teaching, he’s just recapping, reminding them. This is all part of the plan.

Jesus has to go so that he can send the Holy Spirit to do things that he couldn’t do in his bodily form. He could only be in one place at a time. There is more to do.

Jesus becoming incarnate: good news.
Jesus dying for us: tragic and horrible, but still part of the good news.
Jesus overcoming death: good news.
Jesus ascending and sending the Holy Spirit: all part of the same good news.

We talked a bit last week on Zoom and at the Healing Service about how things are going in the world with the Holy Spirit and the church and whether we might not prefer to have Jesus back in the flesh. Sometimes it might be nice to be able to ask Jesus something directly and have him settle the debate right then and there.

Two things come to mind with that: Jesus has already given us everything we need, to know what he would do, how he would answer questions, what we are supposed to do. Those answers aren’t going to change.

The fact that we, as people, aren’t loving God and loving our neighbor, the fact that we aren’t loving each other as Jesus loved us, isn’t because we don’t understand or we don’t know how.

It’s because we don’t want to.

It’s because it’s hard. It’s because it costs us—we have to sacrifice in order to do it. It’s because while we are living in the ways of the world, it’s not popular—people might think we’re weird or soft or whatever word you want to use.

There are stories that have been written that suppose that Jesus comes back just as he was before, preaching the same love, doing the same good works, and what ends up happening is that either the church or the government kills him because his message is a threat to their power.

Does that sound familiar? We just read that story a month or so ago.

Our world hasn’t changed so much since then. But it’s supposed to. And that’s up to us.

Jesus ascended into heaven because his work was done, and he was giving the ball back to his followers to move things forward.

I’ve shown you everything. Now it’s your turn.

The Ascension of Jesus Christ, gold mosaic; in Neamt Monastery, Rom.

If we look at the disciples during the two or three years Jesus was with them, Jesus did all the work. He was teaching them and showing them what to do, but they depended on him to do everything.

Here is what the SALT Project says about Jesus having to go away in their commentary:

“The fact that Jesus departs at all is worthy of reflection. Many founders of movements — or companies or political parties — stay around as long as they can (often staying too long!), and according to the Gospels, the risen Jesus is presumably impervious to death, and so could have remained indefinitely. From this angle, the fact that he leaves reveals what sort of movement he has in mind: a community not standing around admiring him (“Why do you stand looking up toward heaven?—as we heard in Acts), but rather active and present in the world, carrying on his work of kindness, justice, humility, and proclaiming the dawn of God’s joyous Jubilee. In the end, the Ascension itself is meant to invite and empower the church to be all the more down-to-earth. Into the world, for the love of the world!

For Jesus, it wasn’t about his ego, his pride, or any accolades. He leaves so that even more amazing things can happen with the Holy Spirit dwelling with and within us.

This is what spiritual maturity asks of us and looks like. Peter and the other apostles do not look and sound the same in the Book of Acts as they sound in the gospels. They carry on. They put in the work. They wait for the Holy Spirit, just as Jesus told them to. And after Pentecost, they are lit on fire with the Spirit and the early church is born.

The apostles accept that they are Jesus’s “witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.”

There are no “thoughts and prayers” in the apostles action plan, their response to Jesus, as ours is in our Baptismal Covenant, was:

“We will, with God’s help.”

As we remember and celebrate Jesus’s Ascension; as we look to Pentecost next week and the coming of the Holy Spirit; and as we move into Ordinary Time, the Season After Pentecost—it’s the same Holy Spirit with and within us now as came to Peter and the apostles. It’s the same Holy Spirit that has inspired and guided the community of saints over the ages. It’s the same Holy Spirit that has used ordinary people and their ordinary lives to do extraordinary things for God’s kingdom.

The church has moved in fits and starts and stalls and sputters over the last couple thousand years. There have been miracles and signs and there have been tragedies and disgrace. When the church falls away from the Holy Spirit and from Jesus, it loses its way.

It’s during those times that we need to regroup, refocus, remember who we are and WHOSE we are and allow the Spirit to move through us to be the body of Christ, the church, Jesus’s hands and feet and love in the world.

This is our time. We can’t look around and expect someone else to do it. WE are why Jesus came. WE are why Jesus died. WE are why Jesus overcame death. And WE are why Jesus ascended and gave the world the gift of the Holy Spirit.

What will we do with it? What does it look like to have the Spirit in us?

Here is the SALT Project:

(changed to present tense)

“It looks like Jesus, and at the same time, it looks like us — that is, it looks like us being true to ourselves, the people God made us to be. In a word, it looks like love: incarnate, tangible, down-to-earth love. And from another angle, it looks like peace: not just any peace, but what Jesus calls “my peace,” the shalom of God, a buzzing, blooming, fruitful community, coming and going, alive with the Spirit, healthy and whole.”

We look to the characters in the Bible for our answers, as if their lives were more spiritually significant than ours. Here’s the thing:

When they were living out all these experiences, their stories hadn’t been written down. They were figuring it out, reading the stories they had, just like we are.

We have Scripture for our learning, so that we can continue these stories, live spiritually significant lives, be a part of God’s love story in its unfolding.

We have a chance to write the next chapters—to inspire, connect, and allow God to use us just as he used the first apostles. That’s what “apostolic” is all about—being sent out.

Jesus wants our stories and our time to matter just as much as the apostles in Acts. We have same Holy Spirit and we are proclaiming the same good news.

WE can be that community. That’s who we are called to be. It’s who we were made to be.

Will we? Our best answer:

We will, with God’s help.

Living with Mercy and Grace

Background: The lectionary readings for Sunday, February 23 include Genesis 45:3-11, 15, where Joseph is merciful to his brothers who threw him into a pit and sold him into slavery, and Luke 6:27-38, where Jesus tells his disciples to love your enemies, as part of his Sermon on the Plain. This is a quick homily I gave at the Wednesday Healing Service at Christ Church Easton, as these are both readings I think we need to discuss more.

“Living with Mercy and Grace“

Jesus’s teaching today is a continuation of the “Blessings and Woes” or Beatitudes that Patrick talked about last week. Let’s remember that Luke’s version of the Beatitudes is different than the one we find in Matthew’s Gospel, both in nuanced ways and in that Matthew shows Jesus going up a mountain to teach, whereas Luke has Jesus going down to a level place. Matthew’s version is often referred to as the Sermon on the Mount; this speech in Luke is often called the Sermon on the Plain. That’s an intentional setting for Luke, who shows Jesus among the people, not above them, lifting up the poor, and being visited by shepherds, not wise men.

After Jesus has bowled the disciples over by calling the poor, the hungry, and those who weep “blessed,” now he’s gone totally off his rocker telling them to love their enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, and pray for those who abuse you.

If we think Jesus is just speaking theoretically, no, he gives examples: if someone hits you on the cheek, give them the other one too; if someone takes your coat, give them your shirt as well; give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes your stuff, don’t ask for it back.

Then Jesus drops a version of what we call the Golden Rule: “Do to others as you would have them do to you.”

How do you want to be treated? With love? With kindness? Then treat people that way. That’s a teaching we can get behind. We get something out of that, we think about how we want to be treated, which of course is to be treated well.

What about mercy? Hhhmmm… there is something to that. If only we had a case study, an example, something from the Old Testament maybe, to refer to…

Oh wait, we’ve got Joseph and his brothers from our Genesis reading. Joseph’s story is well known, even turned into a musical. Joseph was a dreamer and favored by his father; his brothers were jealous, decided to kill him, thought better of it, threw him into a pit; then got the bright idea to sell him into slavery; they took his robe or coat and put blood all over it and took it to their father, who assumed Joseph had been killed by wild animals.

From being a slave, Joseph works his way up to becoming the Pharoah’s top advisor in Egypt. He is able to see the tough times coming, store up food in times of famine; and in our reading today, his brothers come before him, in need. Joseph has all the power and can do with them whatever he wants. How many Hollywood movies would have this scene being sweet revenge, just retribution. But it’s not.

Joseph is merciful. And then some. The brothers don’t ask for forgiveness, they don’t fall down at his feet. It’s Joseph who initiates it:

“I am your brother, Joseph, whom you sold into Egypt. And now do not be distressed, or angry with yourselves, because you sold me here; for God sent me before you to preserve life… God sent me before you to preserve for you a remnant on earth, and to keep alive for you many survivors”… And he kissed all his brothers and wept upon them.”

It’s okay. You didn’t know what you were doing. But God did. This is where I was supposed to end up, so I could save us. It had nothing to do with how his brothers acted; it had everything to do with who Joseph was and how he acted.

Joseph was merciful. Even when he had every right to get back at them. And he showed mercy in a way that let his brothers save face.

Fr. Richard Rohr from the Center for Action and Contemplation website.

Franciscan and best-selling author Richard Rohr in talking about today’s Gospel reading gives us a thought that connects both readings. He says that Jesus doesn’t forgive in a way that makes him look good and sinners look bad. Jesus doesn’t say look how great I am and how sinful you are.

Rohr writes:

“Forgiveness is loyalty to the truth of who you are. To forgive someone is to recognize who they are, to admit and affirm who they are, and to know that their best selves will be brought out only in the presence of an accepting and believing person. Forgiveness is basically the act of believing in another person and not allowing that person to be destroyed by self-hatred. Forgiveness involves helping people uncover their self-worth, which is usually crusted over by their own self-hatred.

“This is a way of forgiving people that does not make you look goodbut makes them look good. That’s the way God forgives us. In the act of forgiveness, God gives us back our dignity and self-worth. God is loyal to the truth of who we are. God affirms that we are good persons who have sinned. God asserts that we aren’t bad.”

Joseph doesn’t wait for his brothers to grovel and plead. He jumps right out and says, don’t be angry with yourselves. This isn’t your fault. God needed me here to help.

Let’s move back to the Gospel. Jesus says, loving people that already love you? You want credit for that? Doing good to those who do good to you? Giving to those who you expect to get something back from? That’s not love, it’s business. We’ve got plenty of that going around.

“But love your enemies, do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return. Your reward will be great, and you will be children of the Most High; for he is kind to the ungrateful and the wicked. Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.”

Jesus is a teacher whose actions back up his words. If the disciples, or if we think, yeah Jesus, that sounds great and all, but mercy isn’t how the world works. Jesus’s response, with his life, is to show mercy and to love those he encounters, to walk himself straight to Jerusalem, into the hands of those who will persecute and execute him and as he is dying on the cross, being mocked by the thieves on either side of him, as Luke tells it, one thief wises up and says, “Jesus remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

And Jesus replies, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.”

Mercy. Forgiveness. Right up to his death. And in his Resurrection, does Jesus ask for retribution? Does God want justice? No. Again, and again, and again, God shows mercy. Jesus forgives.

And it’s love that wins.

This is from The SALT Project’s weekly commentary, which brings it together beautifully:

“And what do we call this kind of love, this completely free, above-and-beyond, gratuitous giving? We call it “grace.” We may think of grace primarily as the unmerited, saving love of God — and well we should, Jesus says, for God “is kind to the ungrateful and the wicked.” But at the same time, this is exactly the love Jesus calls us to live out, not as gods or angels but as “children of the Most High,” human beings created in God’s image: “Be merciful, just as God is merciful” When we love this way, we embody the imago Dei (the image of God). This is the love we were made for.”

How God Speaks to Us

Background: February 1-2 was a preaching weekend for me and the lectionary was “The Presentation of the Lord,” a feast day, which used Luke 2:22-40 with baby Jesus being presented at the Temple and Simeon knowing who Jesus was through a gift of the Holy Spirit. This resonated with discussions we’d been having in small groups during the previous week.

“How God Speaks to Us”

When we preach, we try to bear witness to Scripture, bringing our own witness to it—where we are, how we engage with the text, and where the Spirit takes us. The next time a reading comes back in the lectionary cycle, three years from now, what speaks to us in a passage will likely be different.

We’ve been having some great conversations this week about Scripture and faith. And what stands out to me in today’s readings are the Bible, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit: different ways of knowing God.

We start out with Malachai, our Old Testament reading. Malachai may or may not be a proper name here as the name Malachi translates as “my messenger.” And here the writer is facing toward the future, talking about “my messenger” who will prepare the way for “the Lord who will suddenly come to his Temple” (we can see why these readings are paired together). As Christians, we look back on a passage like this and we say, Malachai is pointing us to John the Baptizer and to Jesus.

And when we use Jesus as our lens, we can look back on different prophets and different passages in the Hebrew Bible, in the Old Testament, and say, look at the prophetic writings and how and where they point to Jesus. It’s an incredible exercise to do, and we start to make connections and draw threads throughout Scripture.

In our Gospel reading, Luke shows us Mary and Joseph presenting Jesus at the Temple, as was the custom: eight days after being born, a Jewish male child would be circumcised, and 33 days after giving birth, the mother was expected to participate in the rite of purification, a symbolic restoration of purity.

When they get there they encounter a man in Jerusalem named Simeon, who was righteous and devout. It had been revealed to Simeon that before he died, he would see the Lord’s Messiah. This is a revelation that came not from Scripture, but from God.

Simeon comes to the Temple, “guided by the Holy Spirit,” and he is able to recognize Jesus, to know who Jesus is by trusting God.

And look at his reaction, Simeon takes Jesus into his arms and says:

“Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace,
according to your word;

for my eyes have seen your salvation,
which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples,

a light for revelation to the Gentiles
and for glory to your people Israel.”

Image from the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception.

He is overwhelmed with joy at this knowledge. He can die with peace. Another prophet, an old woman named Anna has a similar reaction, praising God and speaking about the child who would redeem Israel.

Their way of knowing who Jesus is, comes to them by God’s Spirit.

Let’s think back to our readings from a couple weeks ago: the Baptism of Jesus, which happens as he is about to begin his ministry, as an adult. After Jesus is baptized and he is praying, “the heaven was opened and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, ‘You are my Son, the Beloved, with you I am well pleased.’”

That’s confirmation for Jesus as to who he is. The Spirit is testifying both in Jesus and in others as to Jesus’s identity as the Messiah.

But a funny thing begins to happen in Jesus’s ministry. We saw it last week, as Kelsey (Rev. Kelsey Spiker) read and preached: Jesus unrolled the Isaiah scroll, and read, and told his listeners about being sent to bring good news to the poor, proclaim release to the captives, recovery of sight to the blind, and to let the oppressed go free,” what great news! And then Jesus gives them the biggest news of all, “Today, this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing!”

I picture Jesus in front of the crowd, “up here, gang—it’s me. I’m the Word made flesh. You’re not going to believe the things we are going to do.” But as he keeps talking, what started as excitement turns to anger and the gathered crowd chases Jesus out of the town, and they want to throw him off a cliff.

What’s going on here. Haven’t they read their New Testament, their Gospels? Oh wait, none of that has been written yet. It’s not in their Bible.

Jesus IS the Word made flesh. He is standing in front of them. He is writing the rest of Scripture. Wait, actually he is not. To our knowledge, from the stories we have in the Gospels, Jesus had a two or three-year ministry and he never wrote down anything he said or did or taught. He was too busy doing the work—loving and serving—to bother to write any of it down himself.

Isn’t it interesting: our Scripture, our Bible is written by regular people, inspired by God. But still regular people, who don’t always get everything right; who come at things from their own perspectives—that’s why we have two creation stories in Genesis and some differences in Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John’s Gospel accounts—they give us our Scripture, from a human perspective, written in a particular time and place.

And when the one guy who can get everything right; who can and does speak for God; who heals, teaches, and forgives sins, with God’s authority; when the one person who can make everything crystal clear is here in the flesh—Jesus doesn’t write anything down. And when he teaches, he teaches in parables—in riddles, which we have to work on and work out, they don’t come to us ready-made.

Jesus’s life and ministry as it happened required people to use Scripture as the road map to get them to Jesus, and then they had to look up from Scripture to witness, follow, and continue what Jesus was doing in the moment. When we read Jesus’s parables and about his life, it also takes our involvement in the here and now. Scripture points to Jesus, points us to God, is inspired by God, but is not God.

The scribes and pharisees who focused too closely on Scripture, missed Jesus in their midst.

And then as Jesus goes about his ministry an even stranger thing happens. The folks who know their Hebrew Bible, their Old Testament, the Law, the Torah the best, they are Jesus’s biggest detractors, his biggest critics. And Jesus will get in trouble with them for actually doing things their Scripture says not to do: healing on the Sabbath, working on the Sabbath, hanging out with people who the law says are unclean.

Jesus is going to show them at every turn, that where love and the law are at odds with each other, go with love. Every. Time.

Look up from your Bibles. I am the Word made flesh. I am right in front of you. Follow me. Watch me. Learn from me. We will do this together. Together, we will write the next part of the story.

The disciples are going to walk through Scripture in real-time, face-to-face with Jesus. To do that, they’ve got to believe in him. They’ve got to trust him.

So we’ve got Scripture, leading to Jesus. Then Jesus holds the baton saying, “Word made flesh here, watch me, follow me, love one another as I love you.” And then, after Jesus’s death, resurrection, and ascension, we’ve got more Scripture written (the New Testament), so that we don’t miss out on who Jesus was and what he did. Scripture is the main way we learn about Jesus. But he also gives us something else to help.

Sticking to Luke’s Gospel, after Jesus’s resurrection and explaining everything to the disciples, he says wait for the Holy Spirit, which will give you power. The gift of the Holy Spirit is another way for us to know, understand, and participate in God and Jesus.

This is the same Spirit that revealed to Simeon who Jesus was. It’s the same Spirit that spoke to the prophets of the Old Testament, and it’s the same Spirit that convicts us in the work of God’s love.

Simeon was a devout Scripture reader, who also made space for God to speak to him through the Spirit.

There is not one singular way for us to understand God, and God’s will and ways. We need to stay on our toes and be open to how God might speak to us.

We need Scripture to point the way, to be our road map.

We need Jesus to show us, to be for us the way and truth and the life.

We need the Holy Spirit to fill us, convict us, and guide us.

We need each other to love and serve and to be God’s love, to build the community that Jesus began, and to be his hands and feet in the world.

God’s Word came alive, became flesh, in Jesus.

Through the Holy Spirit, God’s Word is alive and alive in us.

Luke’s Witness

Background: October 18 is set aside on the lectionary calendar as the Feast of St. Luke, the Evangelist. At Christ Church Easton‘s weekly Wednesday Healing Service, I gave an appreciation homily for Luke. This is the text of the homily.

Luke’s Witness

Matthew’s Gospel begins with “An account of the genealogy of Jesus the Messiah…”

Mark gives us, “The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.”

John goes deep: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.”

Brace yourselves. In each case, we’re diving right in.

Here is how Luke starts his Gospel:

“Since many have undertaken to compile a narrative about the events that have been fulfilled among us, just as they were handed on to us by those who from the beginning were eyewitnesses and servants of the word, I, too, decided, as one having a grasp of everything from the start, to write a well-ordered account for you, most excellent Theophilus, so that you may have a firm grasp of the words in which you have been instructed.”

The author of Luke is also credited with being the author of the Book of Acts, which begins: “In the first book, Theophilus, I wrote about all that Jesus did and taught from the beginning until the day he was taken up to heaven.”

The name Theophilus can be translated to mean, lover of God, friend of God, or loved by God. “God lover” may be a more fun way to say it, and our sister-in-Christ, Rev. Barbara Coleman used to like to call all her church friends “Theophilus.” “How’s it going, Theophilus?”

As an aside, if you ever find yourself wondering who was the most prolific New Testament writer… you might jump to John, hey he wrote the Gospel and possibly the letters, so probably him, right? Wait, we have all those letters, the epistles, attributed to Paul, it’s gotta be Paul. Good guess. If you take Luke as the author of both the gospel and Acts, he’s got more words and pages than anyone else in the New Testament. The scales tilt to Luke.

Luke is our only transparent Gospel writer: he’s intentional, he tells us what he’s trying to do. Lots of folks have tried to put this story together. I think I have a good grasp on these things, so I want to give you a well-ordered account so that you can understand what happened here. Not that there is anything wrong with the others, but check this out…

What do we get from Luke’s witness? What’s different from the other Gospels?

15th century depiction of St. Luke, the Evangelist

It’s Luke who gives us Mary’s perspective, her encounter with the angel and news of her pregnancy, along with Elizabeth and the cousin connection to John the Baptist.

It’s Luke who gives us the shepherds coming to see Jesus at his birth and thereby Linus’s speech from “A Charlie Brown Christmas.”

It’s Luke who gives us the only glimpse of Jesus’s childhood with the 12-year-old Jesus in the Temple

Whereas Matthew gives us Jesus’s family tree back to Abraham, Luke goes all the way back to Adam (interestingly, the family trees don’t perfectly match, but that’s another story).

It’s Luke that gives us the parables of the Good Samaritan, the neighbor asking for bread for an unexpected visitor, Lazarus and the rich man, and the prodigal son. They aren’t in the other Gospels.

And the Resurrection story of Jesus and the men on the Road to Emmaus is a story only in Luke.

In Luke we see the elevation of women in ministries, a huge push on lifting up the poor and on social justice. When Jesus gives us his Beatitudes, he is not giving the Sermon on the Mount that we see in Matthew, he comes down to a level place to talk with people.

In talking about how Luke put together his Gospel, Franciscan author Richard Rohr says:

“Luke is creating his gospel using Scripture and tradition, and he’s doing it within a believing community. In putting together his gospel, he’s not only drawing on past Scriptures, such as the Hebrew Bible and Mark’s Gospel, but he’s also weaving in contemporary spirituality, knowledge of the theological schools of Judaism, experience of the times, insights of the believing community (the living body of Christ), and putting it all together.”

Luke looked around, talked to everyone he could, incorporated his own perspective and knowledge, and synthesized this kind of composite account that gives us a deeper understanding of who Jesus was than if Luke had just figured the other accounts were enough.

And there is nothing else in the New Testament like Acts, the days of the early church—Peter finally putting it altogether and becoming “the Rock” of the movement that Jesus predicted he would be; the opening of the ranks to include Gentiles; earthquakes and road trips and shipwrecks, and the conversion of Saul the persecutor of Jesus followers to Paul, the Apostle.

In about a month and a half, when the new church year begins with Advent, we’ll be in a Luke lectionary year, and we’ll see more closely what Luke’s witness is.

Here is a question I have for you. We can see what Luke felt it was important to include in the Gospel that no one else had. We can see what questions Luke asked and wanted answers for. Now take out your reporter’s notebook and pen or pencil: if you were to write your own account of the Gospel, what are the things that aren’t there, the questions that aren’t answered in the other accounts, that you would ask and want to find answers to? What details or eyewitness accounts would you put in your Gospel account?

I want to bring us back to today’s Gospel reading. Luke shows Jesus coming to Nazareth, going to the synagogue, taking and reading the scroll of the prophet Isaiah. Jesus reads:

“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives
and recovery of sight to the blind,
to let the oppressed go free,
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”

And with everyone staring at him, Jesus then says, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”

Jesus just read his mission statement: bring good news to the poor, proclaim release to the captives, recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.

Luke’s witness to who Jesus is and what his messiahship looks like is Scripture-based, radical, relevant, and social justice-minded.

Talking about Luke’s witness, preacher and author Frederick Buechner says:

“To put it in a nutshell, by playing all these things up Luke shows he was a man who believed that you shouldn’t let the fact that a person is jailbait keep you from treating that person like a human being, and that if you pray hard enough, there’s no telling what may happen, and that if you think you’ve got heaven made but don’t let it worry you that there are children across the tracks who are half starving to death, then you’re kidding yourself.”

The people in Nazareth who heard Jesus read the scroll and go on to call them out got angry, drove Jesus out of town, and up to the top of a hill hoping to throw him off of it.

How do we react to the Jesus Luke shows us?

Let’s shoot for the disciples on the road to Emmaus, for whom Jesus blessed and broke bread and gave it to them, “Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him… and they said to each other, ‘Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?’” And they go to Jerusalem and tell everyone, “The Lord has risen indeed.”

Saying Yes and What Happens Next

Background: August 15 is the Feast of St. Mary the Virgin on the lectionary calendar. The Gospel reading used for the liturgy is Luke 1:46-55, a song Mary sings while pregnant, now referred to as The Magnificat. The following is the text of a homily I gave at the Christ Church Easton weekly healing service, where we used the St. Mary readings.

“Saying Yes and What Happens Next”

Mary said yes. She said yes to God. Today’s reading gives us Mary’s song of joy in what is happening with her; but the “yes” happened first. If we stick to Luke’s Gospel, the angel Gabriel comes to Mary and says, “Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you. Do not be afraid, you have found favor with God.”

Gabriel explains what will happen, that she will bear a son and who he will be and what he will do and mean for the world. When she has questions, he explains that “the Holy Spirit will come upon her and the power of the Most High will overshadow her; therefore the child will be born holy; he will be called Son of God.”

Mary’s response was, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.”

As far as we know, that is the last conversation Gabriel and Mary had. All it took was Mary’s consent. She said yes, when God called on her.

Mary goes to visit her cousin Elizabeth, who was barren, and became miraculously pregnant with John the Baptist. The two women come together and are overjoyed and anxious and excited, the baby in Elizabeth’s womb leaps at the presence of the pregnant Mary.

Caught up in this excitement, Mary gives us today’s reading, which we call, “The Magnificat,” which is used in Catholic, Lutheran, and Anglican/Episcopal Vespers (evening) services and sung or prayed as a canticle.

Mary’s song echoes older songs, including the Song or Prayer of Hannah, in 1 Samuel 2:1-10, which Hannah—who couldn’t conceive and prayed to God and who then had a son Samuel—sang to rejoice.

So this is the kind of joyous song someone is filled with when an incredible, overwhelming, and unexpected thing happens.

It’s the saying yes to God’s call, big or small, that opens us up to being filled with the Holy Spirit. And what that looks like can be big or small as well—it could look or feel like laughter, tears, joy; it can come over us as we do something we love or we feel called to do, it can feel like affirmation, it can feel like connection, it can feel like closeness—it’s a feeling inside us that comes from outside us, or that stirs something up in us that we didn’t know was there.

But here’s the thing: they are moments. They are gifts, but they don’t necessarily last. Here was this moment shared by Mary and Elizabeth, but it isn’t the moment or the Magnificat that we remember Mary for.

We remember her because she said yes to God. She said, “let it be with me according to your word.”

And what did saying yes then entail?

Mary then had to lean into Joseph’s understanding and compassion and bear an unexpected pregnancy in a culture that stoned women for what it seemed she had done.

Image: Giotto, The Arena Chapel Frescoes: *The Boy Jesus in the Temple (1305-1306).*

We learn later in Luke the story of Jesus going missing from Mary and Joseph and their having to return over days to come back and find their 12-year-old son teaching in the Temple. Imagine that prayer to God—”Hi, God, it’s me, Mary. I kind of lost your son…”

We’ve heard and recently talked about the story where Mary and Jesus’s later siblings come looking for him when they fear he has lost it, or gone too far, and he says, “Who is my mother? Who are my brothers and sisters?”

And Mary lives to see Jesus crucified in front of her.

These are bullet points, not going into any kind of detail. But pointing out that Mary’s life got more difficult, more confusing, and more heartbreaking after she said yes to God. We see similar storylines with John the Baptist, the Twelve disciples, and the apostle Paul.

We rightly celebrate and revere St. Mary the Virgin, not because she was unattainable and so far beyond human, but because she was human, scared, unsure at times, and she said yes and stepped up anyway, not even knowing what the cost might be.

Mary’s willingness might help us look at our own lives and see and seize opportunities to say yes, when we are called.

Debie Thomas, in her book “Into the Mess & Other Jesus stories” frames it like this:

“At its heart, Mary’s story is about what happens when a human being encounters the divine and decides of her own volition to lean into that encounter…

“In pondering Mary’s yes, we are invited to consider what our own might look like. What can we anticipate if we give our consent to God. What will happen within and around us if we agree to bear God into the world? Who will we become, and who will God become, in the long aftermath of our consent?”

A question I have for us this morning, can you think of an example, it could be from your life, or a friend or family member’s, or it can be an example that you have read about or know about that inspires you in some way, of a person who has said yes when called upon, and what that looked like?

I want to put it out there that if Mary’s life had been cushy or easy and she rode around in chariots and was carried everywhere she went, we wouldn’t think of her as a saint.

The United States Conference of Catholic Bishops says that “saints are persons in heaven (officially canonized or not), who lived heroically virtuous lives, offered their life for others, or were martyred for the faith, and who are worthy of imitation.”

That sounds like a tall order. None of us might aspire to be a saint—just living a good and commendable life seems like a plenty high bar to shoot for. But we are all called to be saints. When Paul used the word saints in his letters and when the earliest church talked about saints, it meant everyone, the whole body of the church, the Body of Christ.

If you look at the ending of the Apostle’s Creed, we say:

I believe in the Holy Spirit,
    the holy catholic Church,
    the communion of saints,
    the forgiveness of sins
    the resurrection of the body,
    and the life everlasting. Amen.

The Communion of Saints is all the faithful followers of Christ, living, dead, past, present, and future.

Rev. Katie Shockley, a Methodist minister, frames it like this:

“When we gather in worship, we praise God with believers we cannot see. When we celebrate Holy Communion, we feast with past, present and future disciples of Christ. We experience the communion of saints, the community of believers –– living and dead. This faith community stretches beyond space and time. We commune with Christians around the world, believers who came before us, and believers who will come after us. We believe that the church is the communion of saints, and as a believer, you belong to the communion of saints.”

We are bound together, lifted and carried by grace, with those who have come before us and those who will come after us. And we look to someone like Mary for inspiration, to remind us that we too can say yes, in our own ways, in our own lives.

When Mary said yes, I don’t think her thought process made her say, “hey, if I agree, maybe people will remember me as a saint someday!” Based on how Luke frames it, it was more along the lines of: God is asking for my help: “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.”

And she was willing to bear whatever came with that saying yes, though she knew not what that was.

Here is Debie Thomas one more time:

“The particularities of our own stories might differ from Mary’s but the weight and cost of ‘bearing’ remain the same—and so does the grace. When we consent to the unbearable, we learn a new kind of hope. A hope set free from expectation and frenzy. A resurrected hope that doesn’t need or want easy answers. A hope that accepts the grayness of things and leaves room for mystery.”

We don’t know what saying yes might mean. We don’t know exactly what comes next when we open and offer ourselves up. But we know that it brings us closer to God; we know that it allows us to be a part of God’s plans for the world; and we know that in God’s love for us, He invites us into richer, fuller lives, being a part of the Communion of Saints, and His holy mystery.

We can look to Mary as an example and for inspiration.

You are witnesses of these things

Background: At the healing service on Wednesday, April 10 and for the Zoom prayer service and discussion on Sunday, this is the text/basis for a homily and discussion we had on Luke 24:36b-48, where Jesus appears to the disciples for the first time after his Resurrection, per Luke’s account. (artwork: “Jesus’ Appearance While the Apostles are at Table,” by Duccio di Buoninsegna (1255-1319))

“You are witnesses of these things.”

Today’s reading gives us Luke’s version of a story similar to what we heard from John’s Gospel last week. The disciples are gathered in a room and Jesus appears to them. In the course of their encounter, they go from being terrified and afraid, thinking they are seeing a ghost, to being witnesses, inspired and charged up to share their testimony.

How does this change happen?

Does Jesus make some rousing speech? Does he scientifically explain what happened to him?

He gives them his body. He says “look at my hands and feet. Touch me and see. That’s a line I want to let sink in for a bit.

Over the different Gospels we have heard Jesus say, “Follow me” and “Come and see,” now this is the most personal, most intimate invitation he could give, “Touch me and see.”

They are starting to come around, still not sure about all this—they know he died, there is no way this can be… Jesus looks around and says, “Got anything to eat?” And then eats fish to show them he’s legit.

I love the encounters with the risen Jesus in Luke—this story and the Road to Emmaus—there is a light-heartedness about Jesus, there is humor even in the serious work that he is there to do.

In light of the Resurrection, everything takes on new meaning. In the Road to Emmaus story, it’s just two disciples walking and Jesus comes upon them, and they walk and talk and he teaches them and then breaks bread with them, and their lives and hearts are changed. In a way that didn’t happen before. Things are different.

In today’s reading, for the disciples it is conversation, it is Jesus’s bodily presence, it is teaching, all things they have experienced before, but this is different. This changes everything.

I want to ask a question here and see what you think. Why does Jesus come back to his disciples? What’s his purpose in appearing to them and spending time with them?

To fulfill his mission; to do what he said he was going to do. To show them he is who he said he was; to show them that love conquers death.

It’s also this: to give them living and credible proof. To help them take the next step in their learning.

He is going to ascend and it is going to be up to them. His life, his love, his teaching, he is placing it in their hands to pass on to others.

“These are my words that I spoke to you while I was still with you,” … he goes back over what he told them before he was killed, but it all has a new significance; it means something different now.

Then he opens their mind to understand the Scriptures. Wow, that would be a lovely gift, wouldn’t it? Hey, Jesus, what does this mean? How do I make sense out of this? Like a phone-a-friend lifeline to Jesus.

In coming back, in appearing to the disciples, in teaching them, and being with them, in them touching him, Jesus says:

“You are witnesses of these things.”

If the disciples aren’t credible witnesses, it will never work. If they don’t believe, if they aren’t convinced and convicted, how will anyone else come to believe?

But not just credible witnesses, they have to be fired up, they have to be motivated, they have to want nothing more than to share their testimony, to share the good news. It has to be part of their core purpose.

Imagine if after Jesus leaves, the disciples are sitting on this amazing, life-giving story that can change the world, and they decide, “Okay, well, we’ve got this church here, a house church, and if anyone new comes in, we’ll tell them. That’s what it means to be a disciple, right—that we proclaim the word within the walls of our specific church, we celebrate Communion, we pray for others, and Jesus is happy, right?”

Jesus knows his work, his purpose, his life, his love for us hangs on the disciples becoming apostles—being sent out to spread the good news. So he supercharges them, gives them everything they need to succeed, including the Holy Spirit (that comes in Luke, Part II, Acts).

Let’s look at how Jesus gives them what they need in this story. He doesn’t come in and say, “Great to see you guys, would you please pick up your Bibles and turn to page 42 for today’s lesson.”

He shows them his scars, he says, “touch me and see,” he eats with them. He is vulnerable, intimate, and authentic. Explaining Scripture doesn’t come until later.

I love this quote from Debie Thomas in the book we studied last year, “Into the Mess & Other Jesus Stories.” She says:

“Maybe when the world looks at us to see if OUR faith is authentic and trustworthy, it needs to see our scars and hungers, too. Our vulnerability, not our immunity. Our honesty, not our pretenses to perfection. What would it look like for us to offer our stories of scars and graces, hungers, and feasts, in testimony to this world? How might our embodied lives become a way of love? Naming our hungers, widening our tables, sharing our scars and our feasts—what if THIS is practicing resurrection? Maybe more is at stake in a piece of fish, or a glass of water, or a loaf of bread, than we have imagined.”

Another question I want to ask you, and if it is something you feel like you have an answer for or want to talk about, wonderful, if not, ponder it over the week:

What is YOUR witness?

What is it from your life, your scars, your hunger, your passions, your relationships that might speak to others?

We are all different witnesses. The good news is the good news, but we connect to it in different ways, and we connect to other people in different ways. My witness, my testimony, is different than yours.

Part of this whole line of thinking came to me yesterday while I was skateboarding. I had been sitting at my desk for the afternoon, I needed to go to the grocery store, and there is a paved trail down next to Easton Point that goes across Papermill Pond, right on the way to Harris Teeter or Target. I wanted to stretch my legs.

And I got to thinking that the joy that I get from cruising on a skateboard, a joy I found when I was 13 and almost 40 years later is still there, is part of my witness. Writing is part of my witness. Discussing the Bible, laughing, asking questions, building friendships while wondering about Scripture, is part of my witness. Sitting outside in nature and feeling like a part of Creation is a part of my witness.

What things are a part of yours?

I want to mention one more aspect to this Resurrection story. Jesus is changed. The disciples are changed. Something has happened, they have received something from Jesus that has made them witnesses.

What is it and how can it help our witness? This is how Debie Thomas puts it:

“The resurrection is not a platitude or a line in a creed. The resurrection is fire in our bones, steel in our blood, impetus for our feet, a song of lamentation, protest, and ferocious hope for our souls. The resurrection is God’s insistence that we speak, stand, and work for life in a world desperate for fewer crosses, fewer graves, fewer landscapes littered with the desolate and the dead.”

This is the season of the Resurrection. This is the Easter season of new life. That power and love and energy is for us, it is supposed to be a part of our witness. Is it a part of yours?

Meeting in the Mess and the Mystery

There is something about this time of year. As Fr. Bill Ortt points out, the word “Lent” comes from an Old English word that means “lengthen”—for the days getting longer. It’s not the spring is here yet, but we are moving in that direction. The magnolia tree in our front yard attests to that (as do the neighbors saying, “there he is in the yard staring at and taking pictures of the tree again…”).

This week we end a long study of Paul’s Letter to the Romans. And we start both Zoom and in-person studies of Debie Thomas’s “Into the Mess & Other Jesus Stories.”

Talking about Romans, Rev. Jay Sidebotham in his book, “Conversations with Scripture: Romans” writes:

“Paul offers specific examples of what a community transformed by grace looks like. It is a community of righteousness, a matter of being in right relationship with each other. That community will be marked by a willingness to forgo one’s own agenda for the better of another, most definitely a countercultural thing to do… The Christian community is to be marked by a spirit that honors the other.”

For Paul, it was the impossible task of unifying the Jewish believers in Christ with the Gentiles–something that had never been done. It’s telling that we have had more than 2,000 years to work at this, but we seem to have taken steps backwards at welcoming and honoring the outsider, the other. That is something to think about and pray on during Lent (and beyond).

In society today, we’ve decided that faith is a personal/individual thing, it’s between us and God. But I wonder what happens if we poke our individual faith with a stick.

In the first essay in “Into the Mess,” Thomas looks at Luke’s Gospel, (1:26-38) where the angel Gabriel tells Mary what’s going on with her and how God is calling her. Thomas talks about what a shocking and impossible reality was being opened up for Mary. And after the angel leaves:

“(Mary) has to consent to evolve. To wonder. To stretch. She has to learn that faith and doubt are not opposites–that beyond all easy platitudes and pieties of religion, we serve a God who dwells in mystery. If we agree to embark on a journey with this God, we will face periods of bewilderment… (leading to) it’s when our inherited beliefs collide with the messy circumstances of our lives that we go from a two-dimensional faith to one that is vibrant and textured.”

For both Mary and Paul, when they said yes to their callings/journeys with God, their lives got more difficult, harder to bear, not easier. For some of us, that kind of poking may be uncomfortable. It’s meant to be.

Thomas goes on to talk about the cost of loving, “to love anyone in this broken world takes tenacity and grit, long-suffering and great strength.” She goes from talking about Mary, to talking about us:

“The particularities of our own stories might differ from Mary’s, but the weight and cost of ‘bearing’ remain the same–and so does the grace. When we consent to bear the unbearable, we learn a new kind of hope. A hope set free from expectation and frenzy. A resurrected hope that doesn’t need or want easy answers. A hope that accepts the grayness of things and leaves room for mystery.”

Bearing the love for another in the world has its cost and its grace. Bearing the love of Christ in the world–being those who love God, welcome and love the outsider/other, those who feed the poor, heal the sick, or simply those who try to understand and love those who are difficult for us to understand or love–has its cost and its grace.

Faith isn’t an individual matter of being rescued from the mess, it is a choice to meet God in the mess, where He is, and we are, needed.

At Christ Church Easton, Fr. Bill has declared this Lent to be a season of healing, a time of sharing our stories and listening to others; of helping to find and spark hope for each other.

Tell us your story about where God entered your life and did something unexpected and remarkable. Share your story of healing.

The days are getting longer. We have a season where creation around us is going green and things are starting to blossom. We can use this season to draw closer to God and to encourage each other. We can bear the love of Christ into the world and in the process expand our faith into something vibrant and textured that embraces the messiness and mystery of life.

Falling Forward

Fall is a time of change, a time of incredible colors, crisp air, clear skies, and fire-pit warmth. My bones know when fall hits. It’s also always been a time of renewal, energy, and new beginnings.

This year, fall is the beginning of year two of seminary through Iona Eastern Shore for seven of us aspirants and postulants. Our studies this year are focused on the history of the Christianity (what happened between the Acts of the Apostles and today) and heavily on homiletics–preaching. I’m especially appreciating lectures, essays, and books by Tom Long, who makes me think that preaching is something that can be taught, even to those of us to whom it doesn’t come naturally.

To borrow a few aspirational sentences from Long’s book “The Witness of Preaching”–

“To have our own lives, our own work, our own words, our own struggles and fears gathered up in some way into that event (preaching) is an occasion of rich and joyful grace… To be a preacher is to be a midwife of the word… we do not establish the time of its arriving; we cannot eliminate the labor pains that surround it; but we serve with gratitude at its coming and exclaim with joy at its birth.”

And:

“Faithful preaching requires such gifts as sensitivity to human need, a discerning eye for the connections between faith and life, an ear attuned to hearing the voice of Scripture, compassion, a growing personal faith, and the courage to tell the truth.”

I have such a long way to go, but I am inspired and encouraged and am becoming a student of the art and event of preaching.

I’ve also been helped along the way this fall by a discernment group who have gathered multiple times to help me discern, distill, and clarify my calling as part of the canonical process toward ordination. The way is each and every step and I am grateful beyond words for the questions, love, and encouragement from these friends.

Small Groups

At Christ Church Easton, new small groups are gathering to wrestle with Paul’s Letter to the Romans; a group of men are two weeks into discussing Richard Rohr’s “From Wild Man to Wise Man”; and we’re looking forward to our next newcomers class, where Brenda Wood and I will help orient folks to the ministries and work of our church, while looking at how baptism, Bible study, Communion, and prayer help define our faith in Rowan Williams’ book “Being Christian.”

Romans has given me a particular focus and opportunity for the fall/winter. In the same way that I wrote each week about our small group study of John O’Donohue’s book “Anam Cara,” I’ll be writing about Romans–thoughts from different scholars, snippets from our group discussions, and I am hoping to do some video segments and interviews with folks talking Romans.

I think for many church-goers, Paul’s Letter to the Romans is something experienced piecemeal, here and there, in lectionary readings. People know it’s a big deal, but they never take the time to read it and reckon with it. And that’s understandable–it’s daunting! But it’s also beautiful and potentially transformative. I love this thought by Rev. Jay Sidebotham, in “Conversations with Scripture: Romans,” when he says:

“The expression of trust in God’s grace, a theme of the Letter to the Romans, has the power to change individual lives. It also has the power to change communities, which is why it matters that we enter into this conversation. Such a conversation does not mean that we will like or understand everything in the letter… In the spirit of conversation, a word that suggests companionship on the journey, we hope that faithful attention to this ancient letter may open the door for new insights into the expansiveness of the grace of God.”

Romans has a history of changing lives and communities. Would that our studies might increase our trust in God’s grace.

To Live Prayerfully

Last weekend, Fr. Bill Ortt preached on Luke 18:1-8, the Parable of the Widow and the Unjust Judge. The text starts out by saying, “Jesus told his disciples a parable about their need to pray always and not to lose hope.” This is advice you give people who are going through tough times; people who might reach a point in their lives and their faith where they want to give up.

If we are going to be people for God, who is love, and so people for love, we need to lean in, not give up. We need to live prayerfully. Prayer is not simply asking for things–prayer is our connection to God. Prayer requires listening as much, if not more than talking.

That’s part of the reason why we use Rowan Williams’ book “Being Christian” in our newcomer class. It ends with prayer. And Williams describes three things that are essential for prayer:

First, and most importantly, prayer is God’s work in us… It is the opening of our minds and hearts to the Father…
Second, there is the deep connection… between praying and living justly in the world… Prayer is the life of Jesus coming alive in you, so it is hardly surprising if it is absolutely bound up with a certain way of being human which is about reconciliation, mercy, and freely extending the welcome and the love of God to others.
Third, prayer from our point of view is about fidelity, faithfulness, sticking to it… Just stay there and if in doubt say, ‘O God, make speed to save me.’ Prayer is your promise and pledge to be there for the God who is there for you.

To live a prayerful life is to open our hearts, minds, and lives to God. It’s about praying and living in a way that shows reconciliation, mercy, welcome, and love. And it’s about sticking with it.

It’s a lot to take in. It’s a lot to try. We won’t always get it right. We will stumble and fall. And none of us can do it alone. But with God’s help, and with each other, we can get back up, try again, and keep forward on the way.

I come back to the Thomas Merton Prayer regularly. We prayed it together at the first meeting of our discernment group. And it feels like a good time to offer it here: