Sermon for 6th Sunday of Easter – John 15:9-17

This week, our gospel reading is a difficult passage. Jesus is trying to teach his disciples about love. But love is a hard word to pin down. We have such different ideas about what it means. It starts with what we learn as children. Maybe your family always told that you were loved, and everything’s gregarious and demonstrative. Or maybe they avoided saying the word out loud, but showed it by their actions. Or maybe love was something that was given or withheld as a way to manipulate folks into doing what you want them to do. Lots of situations. As adults, that stuff still plays out in our relationships. Or therapy wouldn’t be a thing, right? Not that we’re just stuck on repeat. We all change in one way or another. But our love still has baggage. It’s complicated.

It’s complicated for Jesus’ disciples too. Jesus tells them, “As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love.” That’s reassuring, considering that Jesus has been telling them how he’s going to be taken away from them. But then Jesus says something strange. “If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in his love.” Now, when we think of Jesus, we think of how he loves sinners. Forgiveness and unconditional love. But here it sounds like Jesus is basically saying if you do what I say, then I will still love you. If-then. So right away, what’s our first question? What happens if we don’t? Will Jesus stop loving us? And it doesn’t help that Jesus just told the parable where he’s the true vine and his Father is the vinegrower. Jesus says, “He removes every branch in me that bears no fruit. Whoever does not abide in me is thrown away like a branch and withers; such branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned.” That’s not reassuring.

Sermon for 5th Sunday of Easter – Acts 8:26-40

Most of you know I’ve been in the candidacy process for a long time. A really long time. Like, I think there was life before candidacy and seminary but I can’t really remember what that was like anymore. Now, we have a great candidacy committee, and the process has been good. But it started out in a rocky way. You interview with a panel who asks you really personal questions like “Tell us about your prayer life.” “What does Jesus mean to you?” They just want to get to know you, but it feel like a test. It’s been too long ago to remember everything, except what one person asked me. What will you do if no congregation will call you? Since you’re gay? Wasn’t ready for that question. It was such a shock that I don’t remember what I said.

Our reading from Acts reminds me of that question. Peter and the Ethiopian eunuch. This story always catches the attention of a lot of LGBTQ folks, because a eunuch was someone who didn’t fit into society’s conventions for gender or sexuality. We know what that feels like. Folks in every age have always had rigid ideas of what it means to be a man or woman, and that there can only be 2 categories. So when those rules are broken there’s always a cost. Persecution. Stereotypes. Biases. Condemnation. So, this story catches our attention because we want to know what happens with this guy. And we especially want to know what God thinks about him. Is he accepted or rejected? That’s a really telling question, isn’t it? Because it says we’re not sure. If faith is about confidence, but we’re not so confident, then what?

Sermon for 3rd Sunday of Easter – 1 John 3:1-7

What does it mean to be a “child of God”? Is it about keeping God’s commandments, or just the fact that we’re born? Do they point fingers or keep mum? “Whenever you point a finger at someone else, you point 3 fingers back at yourself.” Maybe that makes it hard to feel like a child of God? It gets even more complicated with our 2nd reading for today from 1 John. It’s got a really strong opinion about what it means to be a child of God, so let’s take a look at that.

So here’s the situation. There’s a schism happening in some unknown congregation. A group of folks have split off because of an argument over doctrine. The folks staying behind are irate. Now, the doctrine isn’t what’s important here, but I know you’re curious, so long story short, was Jesus really human? In case you didn’t get the memo, yes, Jesus is totally human and divine. But this is the early church, so they don’t have 2000 years of teaching to fall back on. Everything’s up for grabs. They’ve got a lot to sort out. Though we’re not much better. Go around telling folks that Jesus pooped and farted and see what reactions you get. Clearly we’re still not totally comfortable with a human Jesus. The epistle is really worried that more folks were going to be lured over to the dark side back then. So it must have been pretty persuasive.

Sermon for 2nd Sunday of Easter – John 20:19-31

Last week I wrote a greeting card for a friend’s birthday. Naturally I waited until the day of, so I had to drop it off at his house. I think I put it off because it was so awkward. He lost his wife to covid some months back, and the family’s still struggling with it. I struggle in these situations because it feels weird to celebrate in the middle of such sadness, but I did my best. Just as I was walking to his mailbox, he saw me and came outside to talk. That was nice. He mentioned that since his wife’s death, he’s been a hermit, not really wanting to talk to folks. And it reminded me of when my mom died a few weeks ago. My sister told me how she was getting calls from a bunch of the cousins, but she wasn’t answering because she just didn’t feel like talking to anyone. Have you ever felt like that? You lose someone you love and then you just want to lock out the world?

Sermon for Palm/Passion Sunday – Mark 15:1-47

This is the passion of our Lord Jesus Christ. He arrives in Jerusalem and everyone’s ecstatic. Loud hosannas and the waving of palms. But in just a few days we hear the crowd yell for Jesus to be crucified. How does that happen? Scripture says that the priests and scribes rile up the crowd. Inflaming their hate. But are folks really that impressionable? Or is something else going on? What makes people turn so dramatically from love to hate?

Sermon for 5th Sunday in Lent – John 12:20-33

Have you ever wanted to be famous? What did you want to be famous for? Music? Acting? Writing a book? Glory is kind of a two-edged sword if you think about it. I mean, it’s exciting to imagine having some kind of talent that draws praise and makes you popular. But, the downside is that after a while, that’s the only thing that people want from you. How many child actors have discovered that? Glory makes it really hard to get folks to see that there’s more to you than just the thing that they want.

Glory was hard for Jesus too. From the beginning his message was simple. “The kingdom of God has come near. Repent and believe in the good news.” He forgives sins and announces the dawn of a new age. Like a new world order of compassion and justice, where the first will be last and the last will be first. It’s just the kind of message that folks are dying to hear. They run and tell their friends. Before you know it, this crowd starts to grow around him, following him wherever he goes. But Jesus isn’t just about words. He’s about action too. So he also starts healing folks by the power of the Spirit. Curing disease. Casting out demons. Giving folks a taste of real freedom from everything holding them back. Really miraculous stuff. So if his words weren’t enough to make him famous, his miracles more than made up for it. Folks start dragging people to Jesus for his healing touch.

Sermon for 4th Sunday in Lent – John 3:14-21

The story of the Exodus is a real case study in trust. For 40 years Moses leads the Israelites from Egypt to the land of Canaan. Along the way it’s a constant series of hardships and struggles. They hunger and thirst. They fight with each other. They’re attacked by other nations. Each time, Moses calls upon God, and God intervenes in miraculous ways. Manna and quail to eat. Water from stones. Giving the commandments on Mt. Sinai. Giving them victory over more powerful enemies. God always steps in whenever the Israelites hit bottom. God’s determined to keep the promise even though the Israelites have some pretty big character defects, like mistrust. They never really seem to trust Moses or God.

Now, we shouldn’t be surprised. These miracles only come when folks are desperate, and they’re always the stuff of CGI and special effects. They’re mystifying. Water from a stone? So, if we’re honest, do they really feel trustworthy? And then there’s Moses. He doesn’t inspire confidence. He’s always wracked with self-doubt. Right from the start, God comes to him in the burning bush to call him, but Moses is like, who am I to lead the Israelites? What do I say? What if they don’t believe me? What about my stutter? God keeps countering him with solutions until God’s had enough, and then “the anger of the Lord was kindled against Moses.” On the journey, folks keep arguing with Moses, and he laments to God, “What shall I do with this people? They’re ready to stone me!” Don’t folks pick up on that kind of vibe? It doesn’t inspire trust. And then there’s when Moses hikes up Mt. Sinai to receive God’s covenant. He’s gone for weeks without a word. Folks figure he cut and ran, and that’s how you get a golden calf. No wonder they miss Egypt. Never mind that they were beaten and worked to death. Memory’s always a little selective. Who doesn’t lament “the good old days”? But were they really that good? I’m not sure our memories are that trustworthy.

Sermon for 3rd Sunday in Lent – John 2:13-22

Our gospel reading for today is the story of the cleansing of the temple, or that time when Jesus got angry. Though whipping and flipping tables sounds a little more like rage than anger, doesn’t it? Strange, coming from the guy who said “if you’re angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgment.” So, Christians have argued for centuries about how to interpret this story. It was even used as a justification for the Crusades, which I think we can all agree is a problem. So, what’s going on here?

Sermon for Transfiguration of Our Lord – Mark 9:2-9

The Transfiguration is a weird little story. Jesus takes Peter, James, and John for a hike up a high mountain. Then suddenly Jesus is transfigured before their eyes. His clothes became dazzling white. They see Moses and Elijah having some kind of secret conversation with Jesus. I’m not sure exactly how they recognize Moses and Elijah versus anyone else from the Old Testament, but they do. Now, Mark makes clear this is a terrifying sight. The disciples fear for their lives. These supernatural visions are always terrifying. Think about every time an angel appears. What’s the first thing they say? Be not afraid. Like we could even do that on command. And Peter who’s always ready to speak right up has no idea what to say, so he starts babbling. “Rabbi, this is good. Let’s make tents for the three of you.” Does that really make sense? Then a cloud overshadows them and they hear, “This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!” Then suddenly it all vanishes and they just see plain old Jesus again. They go down the mountain and Jesus orders them to keep everything secret.

What do we do with this reading? Some folks suggest this is like a mountaintop experience, where Peter sees Jesus in shimmering robes, and Elijah and Moses the patriarchs we all know and love, so he wants to stay there forever. I get that. Awesome spiritual highs are great and we all hate going back to the same old grind. But, the disciples were terrified, so I’m not sure that fits….