Amazing Grace

Matthew 22:15-22  

The Pharisees Question Jesus by James Tisson

        Did you hear that final sentence in our gospel this morning? “When they heard this, they were amazed; and they left him and went away.” What was it about what Jesus said that amazed these disciples of the Pharisees who had been sent to Jesus to try to trap him? Was it that he saw through their thinly veiled guise, through their conniving and treachery? Was it the way that Jesus turned their words and intent around, in fact ensnaring them in a trap of their own making? Or was it simply the authority with which Jesus spoke?

        As we seek to answer these questions and those others that we might add, it is important to place this reading in its appropriate context.        This story occurs during what we know of as Holy Week. The shouts of “Hosanna to the Son of David” have all but faded away as Jesus enters the divine space of these few days between his triumphant entry into Jerusalem and his tragic crucifixion.

        The temple leaders are trying in earnest to trap Jesus and fulfill their mission to destroy him. They have one goal in mind – to be rid of this man who is causing so much trouble with his cross-cultural message. But they have also been taking great care in planning his downfall, because they fear the crowds.

        The 1^st century Jews and everyone living in the Roman territories are required to pay an Imperial tax, the one being referred to here. Of all the taxes that they must pay, and there were many, this tax is without a doubt the most despised because this is the tax with which the people of Israel pay their oppressors to do the very work of oppressing them.  

        Jesus avoids the trap that has been laid for him by his questioners, by asking a question of his own, “whose head is this, and whose title?” Someone pulls a coin from his tunic. They answer, “the emperor’s. Perhaps it is at that moment they realize their folly. And they are amazed. Because Jesus knew. He knew they would reveal their divided loyalties by carrying this Roman coinage into this holy place, the temple. They knew that this money was idolatrous, bearing on it not only the face of the emperor but also an inscription that declares him divine or the son of a god.

        Jesus’ response must have cut them to the quick. “Give, therefore, to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s”. Jesus doesn’t accuse them. Rather, he calls them to a higher fidelity than they had ever imagined; he calls them to live in a relationship to God that bears evidence of their faith and understanding, that everything belongs to the one true God, the Holy One of Israel.

        We, too are called to a higher fidelity than we can ever truly understand. Our gospel text raises questions for those who surrounded Jesus in the temple that day. It raises questions for us today. While Jesus raises these questions, he doesn’t give us pat answers.

        Instead, Jesus issues an invitation to another kind of life, where we acknowledge that although we do have responsibility to render certain elements of our lives to the world order within which we live, we also identify our deepest self as belonging to God. Jesus has made the amazing promise that no matter what we do or say, regardless of where we go, no matter what may befall us, we belong to God. We are and will always be, first and foremost, God’s own beloved children. Therefore, the simple truth found within this text has profound implications for how we live in the world, for the choices we make, and for how we value and conduct the various parts and parcels of our lives.

        One day, when I was about five or six years old, I got mad. I don’t really remember what was wrong, but on that day I decided to run away.

        I carefully and selectively packed my bag. Into my little suitcase I placed my favorite pajamas and a frilly dress my mother had just bought for me. I packed a sweater and my favorite stuffed animal, Andy the Panda Bear. Then I set out on my own.

        One of my neighbors must have seen me and ratted me out because I didn’t get very far before one of my parents caught up with me. I returned home for “The Inquisition.”

        “What were you doing?” I was asked. “Running away from home,” came my reply. “Oh, I see,” my parent responded. We may or may not have discussed the reason for my flight away from our home and family. I don’t really remember. But what happened next is forever etched in my memory.  “So, what do you have there?” they asked, pointing to my suitcase. I opened up and revealed the few treasures I had taken with me.

        Well, my parents told me. They would be really sad to see me go, they had really gotten used to having me around. But if I must go, I must. However, the suitcase would have to stay. In fact, they said, everything would have to remain here, because as my parents so eloquently told me, “you arrived in your birthday suit, and if you leave, you will have to leave in your birthday suit.” I guess it was our own, “render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s” kind of moment.

        I got their point. I elected to stay.

        You might say that my parents strong-armed me that day. Perhaps they did. They certainly shocked me. And sometimes that is what we need in order for us to see the truth. Perhaps, sly fox that he can sometimes be, that is what Jesus did that day as well.

        Remember the final sentence of our text, “When they heard this, they were amazed; and they left him and went away.” Perhaps that conversation with Jesus was a sort of watershed moment for those men. We don’t really know. We don’t know for sure where they went afterward, or what they did.

        But I wonder, might hearing those words and considering the import of them for our lives today be a watershed moment for us?

        We reflect on those words of Jesus: “Give to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s and to God the things that are God’s.” Exactly what is God’s?

        We’re going to take just a few moments now, and I am going to ask the ushers to give each of you a dollar bill. This dollar bill is a gift. It is a gift from me to you. It may seem like a crazy thing to do, for the pastor to give each of you a dollar bill, and out of her own pocket, no less! But you know what? That dollar bill really was a gift to me in the first place.

        The ability to earn it is a gift. In fact that dollar bill, multiplied by however many people worship here today pales in significance as only the tiniest portion of all that God has given me. Like the belongings that I placed into my suitcase that day when I was five, none of these dollars is truly mine except by the grace of God. As a precious gift to me, I am called to care for them, to use them wisely and appropriately. My use of them should bear out the fact that I belong to Christ.

        And so, my brothers and sisters in Christ, once you get your dollar bill, I invite you to take just a moment and look at it. Examine it closely, and then talk for just a moment or two with your neighbor. Tell your neighbor what you see in the dollar bill. What symbols are drawn on it? What words written upon it? What do they mean to you? What does this dollar bill represent for you?

        Next, I invite you to imagine what this dollar bill might buy. What kind of work might it do for you, either alone or combined with other money you have in your possession?

        I invite you then to do with this dollar bill what you see fit. There were no strings attached when you received it. If you need it, keep it. You can choose to give it away to a worthy cause. You can decide to put a portion of it or combine it with other dollar bills and place them in the collection plate. You can take a pen and mark it with a cross, then tape it to your bathroom mirror or carry it in your wallet to remind you that you are a child of God and everything you possess, from every moment of your day, to the very body you were given, your loved ones, to your last dollar, and finally your very salvation is a gift from God, given for you through God’s everlasting love and mercy. It is, quite simply, amazing!

        What would it mean then to see everything as coming from God and belonging to God? It means that you fulfill certain civic responsibilities because God made you a citizen with a homeland. It might mean that you see your role in creation through new eyes, and determine to become a better steward of the environment. It might be that the concept of the tithe takes on new meaning for you.

        How hard is it to see everything as belonging to God?

Christ on the Cross by Carl Heinrich Bloch

        Not long after this confrontation, Jesus will live out the kind of sacrificial giving that none of us will ever be able to truly appreciate on this side of the cross. In Christ, God risks everything. God knows the risk of the grace bestowed on us, and God gives it freely, anyway. That is the core of God’s grace. God is the one who takes the risk. God is the one that gives it all, in order that we might all have eternal life that begins in Christ Jesus.

        May the grace of God call us to the kind of amazement that stays with us when we leave this place today, and colors all the rest of our days. 

       

         

Wedding Day Blues

Matthew 22:1-14; 10-12-14              

          Is there any parable more troubling than the one we just heard? I’m not sure there is. When I look at this parable, I know my mind just starts racing, and I am tempted to begin making excuses for the king. Because on the surface, with our 21^st century ears and context, the events depicted in this parable are appalling. However, as is usually the case in the stories that Jesus addresses to the leadership of the temple, there is a great deal below the surface of any parable.

          The details would have been appropriate and better understood by those for whom the gospel was being written. That being said, this living word of God still carries with it the meaning for us today. So, let’s dig under the surface together and discover applications of this gospel text to our lives of faith.

          So let’s start by considering three questions:

          1. What is the most elegant (or expensive) dinner or party you have ever been invited to?

          2. What is the most fun you have had at a wedding or other party to which you have been invited?

          3. What is the lamest excuse you have ever used yourself, or heard someone else give, in order to get out of doing something – like accepting an invitation?

          Today’s gospel text begins with preparations for a grand wedding banquet, a feast that would, in those days have played out over an entire week –compare this to the recent wedding activities of George and Amal Clooney, which reportedly cost well over one million dollars, to which only a few of the most connected people were invited. This included activities, outings and parties that went on for days. Only in our reading of this wedding feast described in our gospel, it is the king’s own son for whom the wedding feast is being held.

          Invitations are sent out, but unbelievably, the intended guests all find something better to do – that is hard to understand, given that fact that in this context, an invitation by the king is tantamount to a command to appear and partake in this celebration. Those who received that invitation by all rights would have a) felt privileged to be included, and b) known that their participation in this feast was essential to their political welfare; it was an opportunity to show the king appropriate honor, and allegiance to the legitimate successor to the throne.

          Indeed, political alliances are at stake. Your life and well-being are at stake. Refusal to come for any reason short of a death in the family or some other tragedy would have been interpreted not only as an insult – but as an act of rebellion – as a deliberate act of defiance and contempt for the king’s authority - not a good move in anyone’s book of etiquette or survival manual. In light of this fact the excuses of all the invitees were pretty lame indeed. They probably trump the lamest of excuses you might have recalled.

          Instead, they defy the king, and refuse to come. However, the king persists in his desire to include all these fine folk in the feast of the bridegroom, and sends another set of slaves out to issue the invitations. Maybe he thought the first set of slaves were just inept at their job, gave the wrong message or got lost, so he sends this second set out with more explicit directions to instruct the people to come now that everything is ready and waiting for the party to begin.

          It is in horror, then, that we consider what happens to those poor, wretched slaves when they deliver this invitation. The response from the invitees can be seen as nothing less than a deliberate act of insurrection. The king, appropriately, responds as any king would, to put down this rebellion and destroy those who initiated it.

          Following this interlude of violence, death and mayhem, the invitation is opened up to include everyone else. And they come: the good and the bad, the wealthy and the poor, the Gentiles and Jews, the women and men, the business owners and the farmers, the sheep and the goats.

          And, just when we heave a big sigh because all seems, at last to be well, the king spots this one man who has the audacity to upset the apple cart and wear the wrong clothes to party. Now, at this point we might scratch our heads and say to ourselves, “Really? What was he thinking?!

          And the king’s response to this man’s faux pas? We are again shocked and horrified, as this man is tossed out to a place where he will endure great suffering – we’re confused because isn’t this a parable about the kingdom of God? Isn’t Jesus telling those around him this story to prepare them for the Lord’s coming? And don’t we hear from our scriptures that God is patient, full of grace and mercy and abounding in steadfast love?

          So how do we interpret this parable?

          Today’s gospel is about invitations, feasts, and the appropriate response to magnificent, lavish grace. Like other parables, this story uses hyperbole, allegory – and metaphor. Most of us will recognize the king as God, and the son for whom this feast is given as Jesus.    

          The marriage feast represents the great marriage feast of the Lamb. The slaves who are sent, are the prophets; those whom God sent to invite the wayward people of Israel to repent, to prepare the way for the Messiah, and finally, to believe. Those initially invited, are God’s chosen people – the Israelites. The violence represents Israel’s rejection of the prophets, up to and including John the Baptist.

          The destroyed city may be seen as the fall of the temple and its destruction which, for Matthew’s original audience, is an event which stands out in collective experience and memory. Finally, the clothing that is worn by all who accept this invitation may be understood as metaphor for the baptismal garment of Christ.

          So, if you received this invitation, from the king no less, wouldn’t you be honored? Wouldn’t you be exponentially more honored than you were by the invitation to the event you wrote down in our exercise a little earlier?

          So we have to wonder at the refusal of the original honored invitees; where is their awe?  Where is their sense of wonder? Where is their gratitude for the grace and generosity of the king? Where is their party-spirit?

          Those responses come from the ones who DO accept the invitation – the misfits; the marginalized; those whose only real value comes from that fact that they were invited at all, regardless of the circumstances. It is the king’s invitation that grants them status – they have none on their own. Finally, the hall is filled with a mix of people glad to be fed and served at the behest of the king. They show up ready to party.

Clothes say a lot about a person, especially in the tradition of first century Palestine. For an important event, especially something like a wedding feast, or an appearance with the king, one would wear his or her best. Anything less would be an insult. 

          So important was it to honor the host of something like a wedding, especially when the host is king, that wedding garments might have been provided by the host. If the garments were provided, not only would everyone be suitably attired, but individual class and station would be indistinguishable. The clothing offered would be, as the feast was, equally generous to all. So it is with the mystical garment which clothes us from the moment of our baptism, mercifully prepared by our Lord.

          This garment, supplied by our most gracious Lord of all, is no ordinary garment. It is the righteousness that comes from God and it becomes for us the outward expression of the inward change God performs in us through our baptism. It is comprised of threads of compassion, generosity, kindness, and forgiveness. The fabric of this garment is knit with concern for social justice, care for the poor and marginalized. The golden thread that holds together the seams of this garment was spun from the blood of our Savior, Jesus Christ, and it compels us, to welcome others to the feast. It compels us to be not only guests, but servants.

          This garment that clothes us so righteously reminds us that in the eyes of God, whether we came from the stock of the good or the bad, beggar or prince, sheep or goat, we are forever transformed by God’s grace, united with Jesus Christ and with one another. Those of us who wear this garment will be forever equal to all other garment-wearers, with no distinction between race or class or gender, for the righteousness which comes from our Lord, Jesus Christ knows no distinction, and becomes our salvation.

            About the garment and the rogue guest, Robert Capon writes that the Great Banquet has been made possible, indeed it is ushered in by the death and resurrection of Jesus, and by that alone.

          Capon writes, “one person apparently thought the banquet is based in something other than that.  He wears some other garment.  We are not told whether the man wore rags or a tux.  It matters not which.  Anything other than the wedding garment of Christ's death and resurrection is irrelevant. The man is asked how he got in without the proper dress.  The man was "speechless."  In essence, by refusing to respond or speak, the man refuses to enter into a relationship with the king….. if he'd said anything at all--if he would have acknowledged a relationship in any way--he'd have been all right.  But he didn't.  He was "speechless."”

          The man is unceremoniously shown the exit because the death and resurrection of Jesus is the only reason that anyone is there.  Their presence has nothing to do with their "goodness" or "badness."  It has nothing to do with whether or not they are in any way "worthy."  It has everything to do with a "new creation" in which none of that counts. 

          Sooner or later that grandest, most elegant party we listed earlier will end. But for those who have accepted the invitation of our heavenly king, the feast has only just begun. We must do more than just show up when we accept this gracious, unmerited invitation. Like all those clothed in the baptismal garment bestowed by God, we must allow ourselves to be forever transformed by the life-giving feast of Christ. May it be so.

Gospel Grapes

 Matthew 21:33-46

          We need Jesus. Isn’t that the entire gospel in a nutshell? I’m not just talking about this gospel passage that we just read. I am talking about the entire gospel, the whole New Testament, and every word that Jesus utters, taken as a whole. All we need is Jesus.

          Faith in Jesus Christ proclaims this truth. You can take all the Christian creeds, the doctrines of the church, the confessional writings, and the prayers by which we profess our faith, and what they boil down to is this – what we need, more than anything else, is Jesus.

           Faith in Jesus leads to trust in his Word, which leads us to care about what this kingdom of God is all about. We need Jesus to light the way. And we have that, through the life, death and resurrection of our Lord. We need Jesus to teach us how to believe and how to live. And we have that, through the scriptures and the indwelling presence of the Holy Spirit.

          We need a savior to take away our sin–so that we might be freed from excessive worry over what we have to do to earn our salvation, (something, by the way, that every good little Lutheran boy or girl knows we cannot do anyway), and instead focus on Jesus, on his light and his Word, and all that faith means for the day-to-day living of our lives. All we need is Jesus to weed whack our hearts, to transform our turned-in-toward itself heart and our sour grape lives into good grapes, worthy of kingdom work.

          All we need is Jesus to restore us to new life through the forgiveness of sin - individual sin; corporate sin; sins of commission; sins of omission – and we have that, too. So why is it so hard for us sometimes, to believe? Why doesn’t the whole world get it? How is it that the religious leaders Jesus is addressing in our gospel text today don’t get it either? How is it that even though we do have Jesus, we still suffer brokenness in our relationships, our environment, our society and our lives?

          The answer, my friends, is that we still live in a fallen world, where our own brokenness gets in the way of our understanding, knowing, or feeling the fullness of God’s grace. While we may confess, profess, and believe on the one hand that God’s grace is sufficient for us and that God, through Jesus forgives our sin and leads us to new life, grace like that is still a mystery to us. And, as Anne Lamott says, “I do not understand the mystery of grace – only that it meets us where we are and does not leave us where it found us.”

          In the text from Isaiah that Caroline read this morning, despite God’s loving planting and provision of good soil and plentiful rain and sun, the vineyard that is the people of Israel has not produced the expected fruit. Rather, it has brought forth “wild grapes” of injustice and distress; instead of the good, fine grapes of justice and righteousness which were expected, rejection and unfaith, or disbelief reign. So it has been throughout the history of mankind. And so it is, still, today.

          This reading gives us a glimpse of the deep anguish and grief that God experiences at the ruin of this vineyard and its lack of good fruits. Rather than the goodness, prosperity, and justice which God intended and expected at its creation, this vineyard has instead become overgrown with greed and pride, selfishness and violence, all evidence of Israel’s rejection of God’s tender loving care, and later, those whom God has sent to teach, to warn, and to prophesy.

          If we look now at the gospel text from Matthew, and the vineyard portrayed there, once again we see a vineyard which has been well-planted with provisions taken for its care. Left in the hands of tenants, there is an expectation of a bountiful harvest yielding good grapes. But just when the time has come to collect a plentiful harvest of the best fruits, emissaries sent by the owner and creator of the vineyard are violently rejected and destroyed not just once but over, and over again. Finally the Son himself is rejected and scorned and then killed. We read into this parable all kinds of parallels to the story of God and God’s people Israel and if we take it a step further even parallels to our own lives today.  

          Sharron Blezzard points out that while the story within this parable is difficult to hear, God’s solution to the violent, evil tenants is even harder to understand, except as an act of grace itself. As we attempt to unpack this parable we wonder: where do we fit in? Are we the owners, the rightful collectors of the benefits of Jesus’ work of salvation? Or are we the greedy and selfish tenants who refuse to pay their due to the vineyard owner? Are we righteous or rotten—or a little of both? Who are we?  

          While we confess with our lips that Jesus is Lord, too often our actions actually proclaim unbelief in Him…like the religious leaders Jesus addresses in this story, we reject Jesus’ authority…and when we do, we fall into the “self-centered theology of the ‘I am.’ “I am righteous”; “I am entitled; I am capable”; “I am the favored and worthy one”; “I am deserving of power and riches”, “I am in control”.

          Other times our “I am” theology falls more along the lines of “I am unlovable”; “I am not worthy of God’s notice let alone God’s redemption”, “I am full of failure and shame”; “I am poor, weak, burdened”, “I am a victim”, “I am powerless.” Either way, to both those who reject Jesus by thinking “I am in control” and those who have never before felt accepted and think “I am unlovable”, Jesus is the cornerstone, bringing news of God’s ultimate judgment of grace and mercy.

          Jesus is the cornerstone, the one God sent, who comes in humble human birth, in vulnerable flesh and blood, the rejected one. Jesus is the one through whom God does amazing and marvelous things. Jesus has brought about the ultimate, most unexpected reversal.

          All those previously rejected by the world, receive grace through Jesus. All those who are marginalized, are invited to the feast. All those who are born into nothingness, the misfits, the seekers, the scorned and hated, are folded into God’s enormous life-giving grace. All those who are in need of forgiveness for their haughty self-centeredness and pride are granted a new beginning. And everyone whose heart is transformed through this grace of God is blessed and called in turn to produce the finest of fruits for the kingdom. Jesus came among us poor, tiny, and vulnerable – and yet, Jesus became for us this rock, this cornerstone, the foundation for our faith and the foundation of our lives.

          The religious leaders and all who have rejected Jesus, will find all their hopes and dreams, all their doctrines and laws, all their faulty understanding and misguided teaching to be like wild grapes of wrath that suck juices of life from the ground and turn sour in the mouth. Without the cornerstone their building will not last, it will crumble and fall. Their pride will turn in on itself. They will ultimately wither and die.

          Grapes of wrath are produced when we forget that all we need is Jesus.  As Blezzard points out, “It is the fallen humankind that takes the fruit of God’s good creation and extracts a wrathful harvest of injustice and oppression.” And yet, even as we turn from Jesus, even as we reject Jesus, he returns to us with love and forgiveness. This is the grace of God, the love of God coming into our world and into our lives. To our joy we discover the open arms of Jesus on the cross, bringing life into this world even where there is death; bringing hope where there is despair; and bringing resurrection to all creation.

          There is a quote I’ve seen, which succinctly states a great truth. “God’s grace runs deeper than my mess.” (Do I hear an ‘Amen’?) God has showered me, you, all of us, with gifts and blessings and a creation to care for. God invites us to turn from our shortsightedness, abuse and pollution of the earth; God calls us to turn away from the abuse of the gift of our bodies; God yearns to heal the brokenness in relationships; Jesus helps us reach out and repent of our role in the marginalization of the least, the lost, the last, the little and the lifeless who are pushed further to the margins because they threaten our sense of well-being and comfort; the God who grieves when we turn to conflict and war as pride, greed, and thirst for gain take hold in the center of our hearts, calls for peace. You see, my friends, we need Jesus, the cornerstone of the kingdom of God. Henri Nouwen reminds us, “Our life is full of brokenness-broken relationships, broken promises, broken expectations. How can we live with that brokenness without becoming bitter and resentful except by turning again and again to God’s faithful presence in our lives?”

          Jesus invites us, through the images of this text to look upon a new vision of grapes of grace when Jesus, as the cornerstone of our life and faith turns upside down and inside out all the worldly expectations of power with his paradoxical messiahship where the last shall be first, and the first, last.

          Friends, truly, all we need is Jesus, because that which God produces is always life-giving, grace-filled, and hopeful. As we gather at the foot of the cross toward which Jesus is pointing, and where he is heading, may we know the grapes of hope and grapes of grace which God provides. As we gather around the table today, may we partake in wine that is poured out, as the fruit of the Lord’s vineyard, Christ’s blood shed for the forgiveness of all. May we in turn produce grapes of love and grace, forgiveness and renewal in the name of Jesus Christ. 

Questions, Questions, all we have are Questions

 Matthew 21:23-32

          I’ve performed a few weddings in recent months, and I have to tell you that I get a little squeamish over them. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t mind performing the ceremony. I enjoy getting to know the couple, hearing their hopes and dreams for a life together, listening to the story of what brought them to this point. I am happy to be the one to speak a word of God on the blissful day, and remind the couple of the perfect example of love that Christ gives us.

          It’s not the sermon that really gets me, nor dealing with nervous and sometimes frantic brides or bridegrooms, or teary-eyed parents; neither is it calming frayed nerves, or reassuring the couple that even if the flower girl and ring bearer should both stumble and fall, the day will still be magical and in the end, they will still be married.

Rather, what really gives me the shivers comes when I hear myself saying, “By the authority vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife” – or words to that effect. I get squeamish because – really? By the authority vested in me? Whose bright idea was that? If I answer “the state” I have to question their authority to grant me authority! They don’t even know who I am! If I answer the church, then I wonder how and why the church has granted me this power. Is performing a wedding a civil action or a religious one? Is the simple act of blessing a marriage authoritative enough to make it stick?  “Authority” feels like too great a word for me.

          The word “authority” conveys different things to different people but generally connotes power, right or ability. And today’s gospel text begins with this question posed to Jesus about authority. While the chief priests and scribes question where Jesus’ power comes from, Jesus know their question is misplaced. Jesus has authority because of who he is, not where he’s from.

          For Christians, the words authority and Jesus go together. We confess that we believe Jesus is the Word of God made flesh, and as such has all the power and authority of God. We believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of Man. We trust that God, in Jesus, has redeemed the world and we have faith that God’s judgment for the world rests on the cross of Christ. God, the creator and giver of all things, the one to whom everything in heaven and earth and under the earth belongs, gives Jesus authority. Authority about which Jesus is never squeamish. Jesus is the authority of God incarnate, and has come to take away the sins of the world in God’s merciful act of salvation. To us, Jesus’ authority is obvious. Or is it?

          Do we sometimes question if what the scriptures tell us is true is, in fact, true? They can sometimes be confusing. Do we view the scriptures as the authoritative Word of God or do they simply convey with authority, the character and desire of God? We hope that our trust, our faith, and our believing in Christ is not in vain. We hope that Jesus’ words of forgiveness and redemption are authoritative and absolute. But sometimes, just sometimes, don’t we doubt? What if we’ve got it all wrong?

          It is doubt that reigns whenever we try to take our ultimate redemption into our own hands. It is doubt working when we think through our own understanding and works we might earn our salvation, that if we think the right things and do enough good that we’ll be okay with God.

          There are times when we all wonder if the world might have a point, that it is ridiculous to believe in a virgin birth, and preposterous to think that God would be born as a human baby conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit. We fumble around when we try to explain how God could allow his own Son to die a despicable death on the cross.

          Yes, doubt is a part of our experience, and there are times when we confess with our lips belief in Jesus Christ and his power to save while we still harbor doubt in our hearts that this grace is a reality.

          The chief priests and the scribes of the temple don’t find the authority of Jesus to be obvious. Although Jesus invites them to believe in him, they don’t get it. They don’t understand who Jesus really is, and they don’t understand where he has come from or believe that what he promises is true.

          They try to trip him up by asking Jesus questions, because they don’t trust his word, his authority, or the power he seems to have. Have you ever noticed though, that although Jesus actually gets asked a lot of questions throughout the gospel narratives, Jesus doesn’t give many answers? As is often the case, in the text for today, Jesus answers the religious leaders’ question with a question of his own – and then follows with a parable.

          It helps if we put this story in context.  In the preceding verses of this chapter of the gospel of Matthew, Jesus’ has just made his triumphal entry into Jerusalem while crowds went ahead of him shouting, “Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!” The text tells us, “when he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil asking, ‘Who is this?’”

Not long after, Jesus goes to the temple and drives out all who are selling and buying, and turning this holy place of prayer into what he refers to as a “den of robbers.” The blind and the lame come to him there and are cured and children continue to cry out, “Hosanna to the Son of David.” And the chief priests and the elders of the temple became angry. The leaders of the Jewish community and the Roman officials all became afraid. And who could blame them? Jesus came in and made quite a stir.

The next day, Jesus curses a fig tree and then Jesus speaks to his disciples of the power of faith in his name. The conversation conveyed in the gospel passage today occurs in the time between Jesus’ triumphal entry and his death on the cross.

Jesus has gone to the temple to teach. Here he is approached by these angry temple leaders, who are determined to get rid of him. As I said, Jesus doesn’t just anger them, he frightens them. The rising, significant tension between Jesus and the Jerusalem leadership is coming to a head.

What the leaders don’t understand is that Jesus’ authority is based in who he is, rather than who or what he can prove himself to be. Robert Farrar Capon writes, “This is not something he can justify to their satisfaction. He is asking them to believe in him; they, at best, are trying to decide whether they can find room for him in their minds. And because Jesus knows there is no way of ending such a standoff, he simply contents himself with parrying their thrusts. In the face of their questions, he continually frustrates them by being what he always was, a fox, a rebel, a bad boy who refuses to answer except with questions of his own.” And by so doing, he puts them in a bind.”

There is no good way out of the fix the leadership find themselves in if they answer the question Jesus poses about John the Baptist and they know it, so they say, “We do not know.” And Jesus being Jesus, then tells a parable. Once again, while Jesus doesn’t directly answer any of their questions through the telling of this parable, he does give glimpses of what the kingdom of God is like and how God, and king and ruler of the kingdom, operates.

We have this story of the two sons and as usual, it is not as clear cut as it might at first seem. After describing how the two sons respond to their father when we sends them out into the vineyard, Jesus poses the question about which one did the will of the father. The response he then gives to the leaders’ answer is perplexing at first glance. But as he frequently does through these parables, Jesus gives us much to reflect on regarding God’s salvific love and life in the kingdom of God.

The fact of the matter is that both sons have done something right and both have done something wrong. Both in a sense, have shamed the father, in a culture that is heavily bound by honor and shame. The first son seemed amiable and respectful enough in his first response to his father’s request, but then shamed the father by not keeping his word and not doing what his father asked. The second son said “no” to his father and with that response shamed his father out of the gate. Later, however, he had a change of heart, and did the work asked of him.

Both sons have made the father angry. Both sons need a change of heart. Yet the father still loves them both. The father still reaches out to both. Is either beyond the reach and scope of the father’s love? How does the father judge either son? 

             We hear this text as a parable about judgment. But we see in it that the bad decisions of neither son was able to keep him from his father’s love. As a parable about the Kingdom of God, Jesus promises us here that none of our wrong or right decisions determine our ultimate outcome. God’s grace causes God’s judgment to be borne out on the cross, in Jesus, who takes on all our sin and shame, and promises life to all who believe. Jesus tells the temple leaders “even the tax collectors and prostitutes will enter the kingdom of God ahead of you.” Here again we see the reversals that God in Jesus brings: the first shall be last and the last, first.

          Through our baptism, we are each welcomed in God’s grace. By Christ’s authority we are transformed from sinner to saint, from poor to rich and from beggar to honored guest at the feast of God’s delight.

          We are given the grace to believe, as endless life begins in this kingdom of God, life which cannot be taken away. We are given gifts to work on behalf of the kingdom, but it is never these actions, no matter how noble, that earn us God’s love and mercy. God has already made that determination on behalf of the world. Our doubts don’t condemn us, and our works don’t save us. All who believe have the power to become the children of God, and God, the gracious merciful father has already forgiven us and assured us a place at the table. That, my friends, is very good news indeed.

           

Scrambled, Over-easy, or Poached?

Matthew 20:1-16 and Jonah 3:10 - 4:11

Our God is indeed gracious and merciful. Our God is slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love. Those familiar words and words like them form prayers we repeat throughout our worship, are contained in the texts of the hymns we sing and even frame our liturgy. We lift them up because, aren’t these the things we love about God, the things in our relationship with God for which offer our thanks and praise? Isn’t this the gospel that we yearn to and need to hear – that God is full of mercy; that God loves us; and that God’s grace is bountiful and big enough to forgive all our sins?

While all of that is true, God is all of these things and more, as our scripture texts illustrate this morning, one thing that our God is not, is fair. And somehow, despite all those things that I just listed and all the other attributes of God we could name, deep down inside we want a God who is fair. More to the point, we want a God who is fair as we judge fairness.

            The concept of fairness is important to us. Very early in life we begin to make judgments about what is fair and what is not. And very early in life we begin to push back when the treatment we observe or experience, or when life itself does not meet our expectations and demands of fairness.

I was reminded of this recently. When I visit my son and his family which includes our grandson in Pennsylvania, I usually spend a lot of my time, most of it, in fact, playing with 4 year old Alex. We play all sorts of games. While the other adults are talking, preparing a meal or otherwise engaged, I become this child’s favored playmate – a role I really enjoy.

While I was on a trip up north on business not long ago, however, I decided to stop by to say hi and to load up my car with some things I needed to bring to Easton. I didn’t get to play with Alex that day, despite his repeated requests (which are really more like demands, truth be told) of, “will you play with me now?” My repeated answer was, “I’m afraid not this time, Buddy. Next time I come, we’ll play together again.”

How to explain to a four year old the very real demands of adulthood and limitations of time? As I was preparing to leave, I found Alex sitting on the couch next to his mother. He wasn’t in the mood for a hug or a kiss or a tickle. As I turned and walked away, I heard the lament in his voice as he quietly told his mother, “It’s not fair. It’s just not fair!” Alex was disappointed. He expected Grandma to behave in the way she had always done – as his playmate. I had disappointed his expectations. I had scrambled the usual order of things. We can all probably relate, and empathize with Alex and join his lament at times.

Back in the day when John McEnroe was a big name in the tennis world, I used to love to watch him play, less, to be honest, because of the tennis being played, and more for the entertainment value of those matches. John was known for his firey temper and bad behavior. It was not unusual for fist and voice to raise, feet to stomp, and expletives and tennis rackets to fly when John was displeased. And what set John off the most was what he felt were unfair calls on the part of the umpire or line judge.

As I think about it, what probably attracted my attention and held my interest in these performances was that even though I thought John’s reactions to perceived unfair calls and plays, and his frequent misbehaviors were outrageous, infantile, and even downright shameful, I got it. I understood what it was like to want to flail around protesting what was unfair.

John was only doing, on the public stage, what the inner child in me wants to do when I feel disadvantaged, disillusioned, and frustrated because things don’t go my way and injustice reigns. John’s fury mirrored what I feel deep down inside when someone else gets what should be my rewards, or their rewards are simply out of balance with who they are and what they have done.

When I watched those matches and rooted for John McEnroe, maybe what I was really doing was living out my own protest to the injustices and unfairness in my own life vicariously through John’s antics. “It’s not fair. It’s just not fair!”

Both the story of Jonah and his reaction to God’s mercy toward the city of Nineveh, and again in the gospel text today, we read echoes of this same indignant response to God’s mercy which seems unbalanced and unfair. We see echoes of the gut-level response we might feel when undeserved mercy and grace are shown to those we deem unworthy. And the stories and indignation resonate with us.

In Jonah’s case, God’s grace was dispensed to the city of Nineveh, the capital city of Assyria, detested enemy of the people of Israel. These are not the favored people of God, as Jonah’s people are. These are not decent, peaceful neighbors of the Israelites. Ninevites don’t follow the Law as received and shared by Moses. They are not worthy of God’s notice let alone God’s grace.

Yet, God has chosen to show this city mercy. When they heard God’s word, spoken through Jonah, they repented and mended their evil ways.  Jonah’s reaction was to become angry and morose. It’s bad enough that God issued this merciful reprieve to the city, but the fact that God used Jonah as the vessel through which God’s word was delivered and the city saved is more than Jonah can bear. He would rather die than see this great city of the enemy nation be saved. It’s not fair, LORD. It’s just not fair!

In the gospel lesson, we are confronted with more seemingly unjustifiable mercy. When we read this parable of the Laborers in the Vineyard, our “fairness meter” just goes flat. The story doesn’t seem right. It doesn’t play out the way it is supposed to. The laborers who have worked all day get paid the same wage as those who have worked only an hour? It doesn’t matter that they got paid the wage they agreed to, which they thought sufficient and fair when they were hired. The laborers deem the landowner’s generosity frivolous, and unjust. They should get more! It’s not fair, LORD. It’s just not fair!

Deep down inside we know that this story is consistent with the kingdom of heaven as Jesus has been illustrating it throughout his parables and indeed, throughout his ministry. We should know by now that the generosity of God, which knows no bounds, doesn’t operate in the same way as the world around us. In this parable once again, Jesus is scrambling the usual order of things, and challenging the usual assumptions about who is in and who is out, who is first and who is last, who receives mercy and who does not, who is valued and loved and who is not. In the kingdom of God all who believe are welcome, all are forgiven, all receive grace upon grace. The lesson Jesus imparts may be a tough pill to swallow – unless you hear with a renewed heart and mind.

Eric Barreto, professor at Luther Seminary, says that we hear this text through the lens of our 21^st century Western culture, and we interpret it as a parable about fairness in the kingdom of God.

We live in a culture where we are taught from the cradle that hard work will yield just rewards. You have to work hard for what you want. Nothing comes easy. Conversely, the spoken and unspoken lesson that we learn well is that the “have nots” are in dire straights because they have just not tried hard enough, not worked hard enough, not lived well enough to deserve the same kinds of rewards as those of us who have slaved away to earn what we see as our just reward.

Conversely, Barreto says, people of two thirds of the world that is undeveloped, people who live in lands where survival is a struggle, people who live on the fringes, hear in this parable a word of promise and grace. For them, this story is the story of a God who loves so much, whose mercy is so large, whose desire for relationship with the creation is so intense, that it turns the world upside down. For people who are open to receive it, this parable is not about what is fair and not fair. Instead, this parable is a story about a love so strong that it pushes through boundaries and grants the gift of grace to the least, the last, the lost, the little and the lifeless.

God is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love – for all. In baptism we each receive the grace of God that is freely given to all. The truth is, that as Martin Luther wrote, in the presence of God’s mercy, we are all beggars.

Indeed, in the presence of God’s mercy, we are all a mess. God doesn’t give any of us what we deserve. Rather, God gives us what we need. We need God’s grace. We get offended by God’s divine distribution of grace because, my friends, we forget who we are. We forget that we are beggars. We forget that while some of us may clean up better than others and some of us may be better at hiding our sin than others, we are all like the Ninevites, and the last-minute laborers. We all fall short of that to which we are called. We all mess up. We all disobey. We all are utterly dependent on God’s mercy and grace.

But God’s generous gift of grace scrambles our expectations, scrambles the status quo, and scrambles our sense of fairness and justice. God’s gift of grace redeems us all. God’s grace makes forgiveness and reconciliation possible. God’s grace means there is room at the table for each of us, time and time again, no matter where we’ve wandered, no matter who we are.  

          And that, my brothers and sisters in Christ, is a game-changer, because the truth and the good news of this gospel is that God is not fair. Thanks be to God!

Crossings

John 3:13-17 

          Anyone who has visited my office will see the many crosses that adorn the walls there. They come in an assortment of sizes and styles. Many of them have been given to me as gifts; I have picked others up in my travels. More of my collection are displayed in my home. While I acknowledge that they are decorative, these crosses also hold a particular meaning for me. They come from different places around the world and among other things, remind me of how God unites us through the cross of Christ, in faith, with people of many tongues and races and cultures.

          Most days when I lead worship, I wear a large cross around my neck. In fact, today I am wearing two crosses; this one that you see, and another, smaller one, that I am wearing over my blouse, under this alb. These crosses, too, hold meaning for me. They are a constant reminder of God’s love, poured out for the salvation of the world. In my mind, they mark me as a Christian. They remind me that I am called and claimed by God.

          I wonder how many of you are wearing a cross this morning? How many may not be wearing one now, but own such a cross? How many display this religious symbol somewhere in your homes?

          While many of us do in fact own, display, or wear the cross, we also acknowledge that the cross has become a fairly ubiquitous symbol in our culture. It is used by many in the public domain, where it may be in vogue but seemingly holds little meaning. How do we reconcile this dichotomy?

For those who believe in Christ, the heart of the Christian message is found in the cross…but as Paul points out, the message proclaimed in the cross makes no sense to those of this world.

          For Paul, “the world” refers to the power of sin and death; for Paul, “the world” hates and persecutes the followers of Jesus; “the world” is unable to receive the Spirit of truth; “the world” does not know the Father. “The world” can’t comprehend how this symbol of torture and death could possibly announce victory for our God.

           Yet, God chose this instrument, that which is seen as foolish, to shame those who think they are wise. God chose weakness displayed by a body beaten and broken and left to die on this instrument of torture, to shame the strong. God uses the cross to undermine the powers that be; the powers that enslave the poor, the lowly, the disenfranchised, and the voiceless. God uses this symbol, this cross, to illustrate that human power, riches, wisdom, strength, and glory are not how God reveals himself to the world. Through this cross, God reminds us that life with God is not a story of promised triumphs and victories but a story instead of failure and sin and God’s compassionate forgiveness of our iniquity. This cross is God’s indictment of the world but also God’s ultimate word of redemption, where Christ meets us in our suffering. We, my friends, are people of the cross.

          Why so much talk today about the cross? Why is it important to note that we are people of the cross? Because today, September 14^th, is the date on which the Christian church has, since the year 335, celebrated the “Triumph of the Cross.” For it was on this day in 335 that the Church of the Holy Sepulcher was dedicated where tradition holds that Christ actually died. Today is the festival day on which the church exalts, venerates, and celebrates the life-giving cross of Christ through which God defeated the powers of evil and death. It is a day on which we acknowledge the complex combination of darkness and light, violence and peace, death and life that are held in tension on this cross, and we proclaim that in the end, it is Christ’s triumph over sin and death, and his glorious resurrection and ascension that has the last word.

Ultimately, what gives the cross special meaning is not what I think, or what you think or what the church has to say about the cross. What gives the cross meaning, what gives it power as a symbol of our faith, is that God speaks loudly and clearly from the cross, and moves in solidarity with those who suffer, by meeting us on the crossed wooden beams that bore the body of Our Lord, Jesus Christ on Good Friday, giving life to the lifeless, and hope to the hopeless.        

          In our gospel text this morning, we heard words that are usually reserved for Lent, when we are in the midst of our contemplation of the passion of Christ. Yet on this festive day, these words undergird our celebration that the powers of death and the grave give way to life; and not just life, but eternal life. Unending life, given by God at our baptism that beckons to us to live a certain way - the way of the cross, having the same mind as Christ, drawn to God through a love so powerful that its effect is everlasting.

          Verse 16 of the gospel passage is one that many of us know. Perhaps in Sunday school you were even made to memorize it. Perhaps you even learned it in the beautiful language of the King James translation: “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.”

          The love described here is not simply an emotional feeling, a quirk of the heart as we often co-opt that word, “love.” Rather, God’s love is a pouring out of compassion. It finds its completeness in the forgiveness of sin. It bestows unending life that has begun through the incarnational love of God; it calls us to living water, it shines with the light of the world, it is demonstrated through the merciful shepherd who tends his sheep, and it is based in the most trusting of covenantal relationships. Remember, my friends that God is all about relationship. We hear those words all of the time. And in the text this morning, we hear that belief is tied to this relationship with God.

In John’s gospel, there is a lot of talk about belief and believing. In fact, some form of that word is repeated 84 times throughout the gospel written by John. For the evangelist, it is paramount that we understand that belief is not only significant, but essential in the life of a follower of Jesus. Belief is not simply an intellectual exercise or way of knowing Christ... it’s a way of being that colors everything we do, a way of being that is relational at its core.

Believing in Christ means being attentive to the fact that God’s will and agency are not made known primarily through glory or success or “blessedness” as the world defines it; God’s will and solidarity in human life is not revealed primarily in the high moments of life. Rather, God’s will and union with all of creation are made known in suffering.

We live true to God’s will when we, in response to God’s compassion and mercy don’t simply “have” love for one another, but “do” love to one another in the same way God has “done” love to us.

God’s active love to us results in unending life, begun in belief and leading to deep, abiding, meaningful relationship with God built on the foundation of the cross. God actively pursues us in love when, in the push and pull of daily life and in our suffering, Christ meets us, lifts us up and holds us close. This is how and why believing in Christ makes a difference in our lives.

Many of us have known the brokenness of failed relationship, addiction, and the reality of all kinds of failure. Many of us have lost or are in the process of losing loved ones. We have known pain, illness and disappointment. We have concerns about our survival, our finances, our mortality. Through the media, we have observed human suffering on a scale that is truly horrifying.

The cross of Christ makes a difference for all of us who, through the challenges of human existence are assured that eternal life as known through the unending presence of God is real. To have eternal life is to be given life as a child of God, as people of the cross, as those who have been sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever.

It is my hope that when you see or contemplate the cross, you will be reminded of God’s will and agency for a world in need of God’s unending love and mercy. I hope you will endeavor, as Martin Luther advocated, to regularly make the sign of the cross upon your body as a reminder of the one who has claimed and blessed you for a life of faith and love. I hope that when we gather around the table today, you will remember that the body and blood of our Lord, broken and poured out for the forgiveness of sin unites us in relationship with God, with one another, and with the whole world. And I pray that today you remember that such a love transforms us for life defined by God through the victorious cross of Christ. Amen.

                    

They'll Know We Are Christians

Matthew 18:15-20

          There is an Irish saying that pertains to relationships of all kinds, and, in the endearing way that such Irish sayings do, cuts to the chase and honestly articulates how we may feel about those who have offended us. Perhaps you’ve heard it before. It goes like this:

May those who love us love us,
and those who do not love us,
may God turn their hearts,
and if He cannot turn their hearts
may He turn their ankles
that we may know them by their limping.
~Irish Prayer 

I think that most of us here today can probably understand that sentiment better than the one that come to us out of the scriptures, that would have us love our enemies, and bless those who curse us. The Irish saying describes the very human reaction and desire that we often have when another person hurts us, and when that person is unrepentant. We simply want the one who offends to receive their “just desserts”, right?

But Jesus’ way is different, as we see in this text. Jesus calls for a response to sin that involves loving the person while still holding individuals and communities of faith responsible for their actions. Jesus offers practical advice to his disciples and by extension, the church, for how we as individuals and as church, should proceed when relationships break down and misconduct results.

First and foremost, Jesus advocates for our speaking with one another rather than to each other, because God is all about relationship. In Jesus’ advice there is room for conversation, compassion, and restoration.

In fact, those are the goals of Jesus’ instruction, for in our gospel text this morning, Jesus’ words give us a picture of one person relating to another with respect, love, and clarity. Matthew writes that if someone sins against us – does something to hurt us, breaks the law as it applies to human relationships – here is what to do:

First, approach that person, and go off by yourselves. Speak with the person in question, in private. Point out what they have done. Whatever the situation, if this approach works and an understanding is reached, and restoration to healthy relationship is achieved, great! You each go on your way. Problem solved. Way to go!

However, if the person resists your attempt to rectify the situation, it is time to call for back-up. So, take another member or two with you. Have the conversation. The witnesses may help bolster your argument, or they may help set you straight if you are in error with what you are saying. Hopefully, together, you will reach an understanding and again, the problem will be solved.

If it is not, hoever, and you follow step three and raise the issue up to the membership of the church and they also demand repentance but the offender does not comply, Jesus says, “let such a one be to you as a Gentile and a tax collector.” That doesn’t sound good, does it? Gentiles and tax collectors were marginalized – they were outcasts – they were not accepted in the community, they didn’t eat with the members of the community, they were, in a word, shunned. That sounds pretty severe, pretty serious, doesn’t it? It sounds an awful lot like “tough love.”

          Back in 1968, a book entitled “Tough Love” was published. It was written by Bill Milliken who coined the term “tough love” and the concept and phrase have been co-opted by many authors, therapists and others in the years since. Generally speaking, there is an assumption of genuine love or affection toward the one on whom seemingly harsh or “tough” love is employed. Generally speaking, this type of discipline was and is used for individuals who have persistently acted in unwise, dangerous, and irrevocably “sinful” ways – ways that result in the breakdown of trust and relationship, that disregard the well-being of the community or relationships that exist, and demonstrates willful disregard for “the rules”. Tough love is intended for times when other attempts at discipline or bringing the offending individual back into the fold have failed.

But we know that “tough love” has been misused and misappropriated at times, resulting not in loving correction but in abusive situations. For instance while some so-called “boot camps” for troubled teens, appropriately use reward and punishment to achieve positive results, others have used methods to correct their “campers” that have been judged criminal. In some cases, they have even resulted in the death of their subjects. At the very least some have heaped emotionally devastating abuse on vulnerable children and teens.

Frankly, the problem I have with this text, is that we know it too, has been misused both by individuals and in some communities of faith. It, too, has the ability to be used to inflict punishment and pain on individuals rather than restore relationship. Yet we know the God is all about relationship. God desires relationship so much that God became vulnerable for the sake of love. The same God who sent is Son to die on a cross, does not give up on us.

In this chapter and throughout scripture, God relentlessly insists upon forgiveness because God knows who we are, and God knows we need it, that without God’s brand of justice, community is lost. Biblical commentator Thomas Long writes, “Matthew has no romantic illusions about the church He knows that the church is not all sweet thoughts, endlessly patient saints, and cloudless skies. In Matthew’s church, people—no matter how committed, are still people, and stormy weather is always a possible forecast.”

God knows that God’s children are finite human beings, and that we mess things up. We make mistakes. We act in ways that hurt ourselves. We say and do things that hurt other people. Occasionally, our sinfulness disrupts and even destroys community. But restoration to the fold is a primary focus of this chapter and of Jesus’ words.

The same Jesus who advocated forgiving seventy times seven, and who goes off in search of one measly lost sheep, leaving ninety-nine behind to do so cares about each individual, and does not let go of those whom he has claimed as his own. So, while we might focus on and get stuck on the part of this text that deals with apparent banishment, Jesus focuses on loving, on constantly seeking another way to heal broken relationships and forge pathways of reconciliation and restoration. Isn’t that the way of our God?

God is intimately involved and cares about each individual story and our collective story so much that God reaches out, sending forth his son into our human history in such a way so as to bring salvation, healing, and reconciliation. This kind of love is so high, and broad, and deep, that it covers the height of our dreams and our joys; the width and breadth of our experiences; and it reaches into the depths of our discouragement, despair, and even our death. It impacts all our relationships, especially in this community of the Body of Christ.

My brothers and sisters, try as we might, we know that our love is imperfect. We know that we can hold onto resentments forever; sometimes we desire revenge or payback, like knowing our adversaries by their limp! We often withhold forgiveness, and occasionally we even withhold our love from those who hurt us. We often find it easier to talk about someone we have conflict with, rather than with that person. We know that sometimes, even our best attempts to make amends, to set things right, to do the right thing, to be forgiving or loving will fall short. We know that we will fail to be humble in our relationships as Christ is humble.

Friends, may we also know that through Christ we are strengthened and restored to God’s grace, not because of who we are but because of who God is. Our gracious Lord Jesus accompanies us on this journey. In this passage, for the one who resists attempts at restoration, Jesus says, “let such a one be to you as a Gentile and a tax collector.”

Yet, if you remember the gospel in its entirety, then you know the loving character of God as well. Because didn’t Jesus eat with tax collectors? Didn’t he forgive sinners and heal Gentiles along the way? Didn’t Jesus love even those who rejected him, didn’t he look out for the outcast, the marginalized? Didn’t Jesus in every way seek reconciliation, restoration and redemption – didn’t he always leave the door open for the return of the lost? Didn’t he in fact, seek them out?

God, as Trinity, is always in relationship with us; Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are poised to accompany us as we live out God’s grace and mercy in our relationships, in community.

My friends, may this unfathomable grace of God free us to love fully, remembering and sharing in the promise of God’s grace with and for one another. Let the grace and mercy of Christ wash over us each day as on the day of our baptism, freeing us to let go of resentments, and anger, and hurt. May God’s grace free you to be in the driver’s seat, seeing each other with new eyes, and restoring you to relationships shaped by mercy and love.