Epiphany 2, 2026

 

Jesus took one look at Simon and said to him, “You shall no longer be called Simon but your name from this time forth will be Rocky.” Cephas, Peter, Petrified, Rocky. And Simon Peter said to Jesus, “But I just got a stack of new business cards! Now I have to have them reprinted with my new name!”

In this year of reading Matthew's Gospel, we get some key readings from the Gospel of John which is really a very different Gospel. Today we're getting John's introduction to Jesus. John is the odd one in the 4 Gospels. Matthew makes the connection between Jesus and Moses. Luke often often tells stories from a man's perspective and then a matching story from a woman's perspective. Mark is the action-packed Gospel going immediate from one action scene to another. And then there's John. He's telling a cosmic story that begins in the beginning, like the Genesis beginning where God and the Word or Logos or Jesus create the heavens and the earth, a story in which God is drawing all creation to God's self, a story of connections and meaning and poetry. So here we are in John's introduction to Jesus.  These are Jesus' first words in this Gospel.

We're getting the hand off of power between John the Baptist and Jesus. John reports that he saw the Spirit descend and remain on Jesus. John has been a charismatic leader. He is a prophet whose actions have prompted people to ask if he is the Messiah. He has drawn a following and has gathered disciples. And he's baptized most of Jerusalem and the surrounding areas. Everyone has gone out to see him and many have found his message compelling: Repent, prepare the way, get ready! When John points to Jesus and says this is the guy you've been looking for, it really means a lot. It is a big deal that John would redirect the accolades and attention given to him and use it to point out Jesus. John is not tempted by fame or attention. He gives credit to Jesus and uses his own power and influence to name the Messiah, the anointed one that he is recognizing. This is John the Baptist's 5 star review, his 100% on Rotten Tomatoes, this is his letter of recommendation of Jesus as the one to follow and listen to. Because John isn't keeping the praise heaped on him for himself, he doesn't lose track of who he is. He is focused on his power as a prophet to speak the truth. He will soon be telling Herod the truth that Herod is doing wrong and that will lead to the consequence of John's death. John is an uncompromising guy and that raises his credibility that he pointed to Jesus as the Messiah.

John the Baptist is naming Jesus' particular kind of power. He is telling us what to expect from Jesus. “Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!” The next day he says, “Look, here is the Lamb of God!” What does it mean to have your Savior be a lamb? He isn't just a sheep, he's a lamb. A lamb would have meant a lot to the Israelites. They put lamb's blood on their doorways at the Passover and a lamb was eaten in celebrations of Passover, remembering God delivering them from slavery in Egypt. A lamb was a helpless animal, but also a precious animal, providing wool and meat and liberation.

This lamb image is so different from the team mascots and animals we most revere today. We might prefer to follow a wolf or a wildcat. In John's time, Christians and Jews were in conflict. There was pressure from the Roman Empire. Life was not peaceful or easy. People lived under oppression. Into this mix comes Jesus, the Lamb of God. He's gentle. He doesn't take up arms. He's peaceful. He doesn't defend himself. He doesn't even defend his disciples and followers. He advocates resistance, defiance, but it's peaceful resistance, loving resistance. It is resistance in community—this story is all about community: relationships rather than individuals.

There is power in relationships.  Relationships bind us together, join our stories, give us encouragement and purpose.  The relationships in this story include the relationship between the Lamb of God and the world, namely that he takes away the sin of the world.  Here is another element of Jesus' peacefulness, he takes away sin.  Many times we heap sins on people, blame them, shame them, require them to face consequences, revel in their humiliation.  But the Lamb of God comes to take away the sin of the world--to remove it.  As it says in John 3:17 God did not come into the world to condemn the world, but that the world would be saved through him. Jesus practices and advocates resisting the powers of violence with the power of forgiveness in relationships.

There is the relationship between John the baptist and Jesus.  John says explicitly that Jesus is greater than him, and is part of the greater story.  He was before him, as in there in the creation, the Logos or word moving over the waters.  John knows him because he was revealed by God in the dove which descended and remained at Jesus' baptism.  There is power in recognizing and sharing leadership in the community of God's followers.

There is power in the relationship between John and his disciples and Jesus receiving the transfer of John's disciples to him. John's credibility and power is transferred to Jesus. Jesus takes up this relationship by asking them what they are looking for, what are their expectations.  This is a question that shapes the rest of the Gospel.  A lot of times what we are looking for shapes what we see and find.  Throughout the Gospel we find the disciples looking for a Messiah that is a military victor, someone very different from a lamb.  We, too, have expectations of what a relationship with Jesus means.  Some people think it means they will be rewarded with wealth or good health or good family relationships or ease in life.  People tell me they come to church to be comforted, to feel the warmth of God's love and grace.  The book of John is not a very comforting book--instead it challenges us.  It challenges Nicodemus who comes looking for affirmation and is given direction by Jesus to be born again, have a whole changed.  It challenges the rich young man who comes with the idea that he has followed all the commandments, so he should be comforted and affirmed, but he is told to sell everything and follow Jesus, that he lacks one thing.  John's Gospel invites us to look at our expectations, to pay attention to what we are looking for.  If all we want is comfort, then Jesus probably isn't the one we're seeking.

The disciples are starting to build a relationship with Jesus.  They ask, "Where are you staying?"  The word for staying is the same word for the dove remaining on him.  The word remain shows up several times in this reading, which is always something to pay attention to.  There is an intention to remain, to stay, to abide, and build this relationship.  This the same kind of staying power that God is having with humankind in the person of Jesus.  He is abiding.  Later in the book of John, Jesus will give a farewell address about abiding, how he and God abide with each other, and how the Holy Spirit abides with the Disciples after Jesus ascends to the Father.  Abiding and remaining indicate a long-term relationship, a commitment to work together.

Then Jesus invites them to come and see.  Jesus doesn't make any promises about what the disciples will experience.  He lets the experience unfold instead of trying to anticipate everything they will encounter.  Jesus wants them to be open to all the experience of following him and abiding will bring.  An attitude of openness, of curiosity is helpful for Jesus' disciples, which we are.

Then there is the relationship between the brothers Andrew and Simon, the power of sharing the good news.  Andrew doesn't keep Jesus all for himself, but he tells his brother, who ends up becoming Jesus' right-hand man.  The good news of Jesus is too good to keep to ourselves.  How can our lives be ones of invitation, of sharing Jesus with others, of building community and relationship.  In knowing Jesus, Simon gets a new name, a new identity, a new birth.  So new things are possible with all of us in abiding, remaining relationship with Jesus and each other.

We live in troubled times.  People's anxiety is rising week by week. Stress is high.  Some people are turning on each other.  Some people seem stuck about what to do.  But many people are building relationships, getting to know their neighbors, showing up at city hall to speak the truth to the Gresham city counselors. Santa Cruz congregation has asked us at Trinity to meet with officials in Gresham to get a state of emergency declared in Gresham as the city in Oregon with the most per capita ICE arrests.  Families are being separated and hard-working law-abiding members of our community have been taken to Tacoma. I hope you'll pray for me, I have a clergy meeting with the Gresham mayor on Thursday.  Some of our community members have asked to join our disaster preparedness pods to know their neighbors and be able to respond in times of need--because we are already in a time of need, a time of emergency for many.  In these times we are called to follow the lamb, Jesus who faced the violent powers of empire that tried to control him, that tried to take away the hope of the people.  We are called to follow the lamb and respond not with violence but with relationship and solidarity.  We are called to tell the truth even when it is unpopular and to resist power that attacks countries, states, and people who are defenseless.  We are called to come and see, and to remain with Jesus the lamb and our fellow disciples receiving a new identity and new purpose in the power of relationship and love.

Epiphany 1, 2026

 7 years ago when my husband was applying for a job in Seattle, and I was anticipating leaving a church I served for 14 years, I started swimming as a way to stay healthy, both physically and emotionally. It seemed there was a pretty big chance he would get the job and I needed to calm my anxiety about the uncertainty of the future. So I started going to the pool. The pool is a quiet place that I can be alone with my thoughts. It is a calming place when I am anxious. It is a place of centering, a place of keeping myself in shape, and of prayer. Although the pandemic closed the pools for a time, I have returned there. I swim about 4 days a week for about 45 minutes. It comes to about ¾ of a mile. I often organize my thoughts for sermons there and feel buoyed up on many levels.

Water is powerful. We are made mostly of water. We depend on the flowing of water to give us life. Several of you experienced flooded basements last month. Water can be traumatizing, especially when you just get it cleaned up and it comes gushing in again. My home congregation when I was growing up had a baptismal font that spilled over into a pool and there was a pump that kept it flowing. One year when several members had basement flooding we had to turn off the pump because the sound of trickling water was making them anxious.

Water is responsible for so much good. Here in Oregon we are so blessed by water to keep this half of our state green, to provide water for livestock, to provide recreation and refreshment. We are blessed with an abundance of water from the Columbia River to Johnson Creek, to blue lake. How exciting that God chooses something plentiful and available to bless, that God comes to us through something every day and common

Jesus came to the Jordan to be baptized by John. Water is powerful. The Jordan River marked the place where the Israelites entered into the land after wandering for 40 years in the wilderness. They started at a body of water, the Red Sea, which was a powerful barrier keeping them trapped until God made a way through the waters. Then after all that wilderness wandering there is another body of water to cross to end the journey, the Jordan River. So Jesus comes here to this powerful place: A place of barrier, of boundary, of crossing, of ending one phase and entering another.

At the River Jordan, Jesus encounters a barrier—John not being worthy to baptize him. We are always putting up barriers. Sometimes it holds us back from our own power. Sometimes it is about others. We put up barriers saying that some are in our group and some are out. Let’s examine this barrier in the story of Cornelius and his family. There was a barrier about what people could eat and what people couldn’t, a law. Maybe it was to keep people safe and healthy. Maybe it was about prejudice and fear. It was a barrier that worked for a while, but Peter had a vision that broke down that barrier and he was told that things he had been forbidden to eat, were actually permitted, and people he was told to keep separate from he was to embrace into God’s family.

We’re planning to vote on a welcome statement at our annual meeting at the end of the month that has the potential to break down a barrier. It is one the church and church people put up trying to be faithful to God’s teaching and to the way we have been raised. It’s a barrier meant to protect people and guide people. And yet through study of scripture many of us are saying we see this barrier being more hurtful than helpful, maybe more constructed by humans than by God. At Trinity, we’re considering a welcome that includes people of all different sexual orientations, gender identities, and gender expressions because we feel led by God’s love and grace to do so.

Trinity Lutheran Church, I want you to take special notice here in this story of the presence of the Trinity. We have Jesus at the Jordan, the Son. We have the voice of God over the waters. We have the Holy Spirit descending like a dove. Let’s notice this moment is all about the power of God the Trinity through the waters. Jesus seeks out water to illustrate his entrance into ministry as the Israelites used this place as an entrance to the new life God was leading them to. Jesus in the flesh, made of water, coming to the waters for cleansing, naming, and anointing as the Son of God, the Messiah at the waters. The voice of God over the waters as at Creation making something new, order out of chaos, in blessing Jesus the word made flesh. The Holy Spirit in the form of a dove, like the dove that Noah sent out after the flood to signal when it was safe to walk on solid ground again, a sign of the healing of creation, of wholeness of restoration and starting again. It is all about the power of water to set apart, cleanse, remove barriers, or mark a new beginning.

This moment is all about the breaking down of barriers. The barrier between Jesus and John is breaking down. God always works through imperfect people to accomplish God’s purposes and John is one of those people. The barrier between humankind and God is being broken down. Here is Jesus, God in the flesh. That’s the word “incarnate” we’ve been hearing a lot in the Christmas story and hymns. Carne is flesh, so God is in the flesh. The barrier between the wilderness and the gathering of the people, the activity of the people is being broken down. Even the concept of the Trinity shows that although we have one God, God is relational within God’s self-breaking down barriers, but also God is relational with us and with water, with all creation. Baptism is a breaking down of barriers, washing away the sin that divides us, breaking down the separation of unworthiness and bringing us into God’s family. Baptism breaks down the barriers between people—there is no insiders and outsiders. When God welcomes you into the family of God, no one can take that away from you. A barrier has been taken down between us, and now you are my brother or sister, you are my responsibility and we belong to each other.

We’re invited this day to come to the waters of baptism and renew that relationship, be cleansed again, and sent out to do ministry. We are invited to encounter the power of water. Water can carve through stone, it finds its way through to nourish the plants and animals. Water evaporates and floats through the sky only to be pushed up to condense to rain and bless the land. Water comes down as snow and waits to melt on the mountains, giving us water all through the summer until the cycle starts again. Water respects no boundaries, it breaks them down and comes to us despite any unworthiness.

In our baptism we are called and driven by the Holy Spirit to experience a changed life. We make and renew commitments as a community to proclaim Christ through word and deed, to care for others and the world God made, and to work for Justice and peace. So we emerge from the waters with a blessing, a reminder of who we are as God’s children, a reminder that we belong to this great story of liberation and new life, a reminder that we are part of the body of Christ, the community working together, and a motivation, a drive to do God’s Kingdom work of releasing the prisoners, feeding the hungry, standing up for justice and peace, and loving the world. God does God’s work through us, the body of Christ, marked and anointed and claimed and reminded.

Lately, when I go to the pool I have started to mark my baptism. I always wet my hair before I put on my swim cap. That’s when I am giving thanks to God for my baptism. Thanks be to God for the morning. Thanks be to God for the waters. Thanks be to God for quiet places to float and weigh all the troubles of this world. Thanks be to God for cleansing us. Thanks be to God for breaking down our barriers. Thanks be to God for new life in the desert. Thanks be to God for Jesus who came to show us God’s love. Thanks be to God for the voice that claims us and blesses us. Thanks be to God for the Holy Spirit that drives us—out in the wilderness and back again, toward each other, on new paths of justice and hope. I invite you to find your renewal of baptism ritual. Maybe it’s when you step into the shower or wash your face in the morning, or maybe when you step out in the rain or wash the dishes. Maybe it is when you bathe your child or your ailing parent. Notice the water, notice the blessing, notice the hope and let it move you toward a more just and peaceful world.

Christmas Eve 2025

 My little great-nephew Owen is three years old. A baby brother arrived this summer. When Owen met him in the hospital he said, “We’re not taking THAT home with us!” Owen feels the same as many older brothers and sisters, and yet he has thankfully adjusted well to this new person who will surely be a key person in his life from now on.

Now matter how expected or planned or longed-for a birth is, it is disruptive. There’s no doubt about it, a baby changes everything. A baby is messy, a baby is noisy, a baby is vulnerable, a baby is needy. A baby is who shows up for us at Christmas.

This Advent leading up to Christmas we heard the scripture about God coming like a thief in the night, catching us off guard, and breaking into our lives. We found this to be a mixed message, because a thief is bad news, but God is good news. We considered the possibility that God comes to us like a thief because we have our house locked up tight against life-changing good news, against disruption, against challenge. So God comes as a thief to steal away our self-absorption, our tight grip of control over our lives. God comes as a thief, a little baby thief.

I think my great-nephew had a sense that his little brother was a thief. He would be a thief of his parents’ time and energy, a thief of his toys, competition for resources. But he would also be a thief of his loneliness, of his isolation, of his self-centeredness. Not all thieving is bad, it depends on what you steal. Jesus, too steals our isolation, our self-centeredness, our self-righteousness, he steals our despair.

Jesus came to us a little baby to steal our hearts, to sneak in. He came to us innocent and needing help. He came to us vulnerable and small. So we opened the door. But he didn’t just come to be cute and snuggly. A baby doesn’t stay the same. The minute you think you have this little person figured out, they change and need something else. They are constantly growing and changing. They grow up and they have a different view of the world and their own way of approaching things.

We all change and grow up. I remember how heart-breaking it was when my nieces entered their teenage years because they started to see the cruelty of this world and how it could be different. It’s heart-breaking to be so aware of the world’s pain. So it is with our children and so it is with Jesus. He grew up with his own vision, his own view of how the world oppresses people, how war maims and destroys and how our taxes go to purchase weapons to shape this world into one friendly toward the rich.

Many of us have now grown weary and apathetic, inundated with images and news stories from around the world that keep us feeling helpless. We are aware of injustice everywhere, so much evil in our midst and even that we participate in: workers not paid fair wages, a health care system that regularly bankrupts families, a housing market developed only to make money not keep people safe and warm and dry, poison in our food, clothing, and soil. These are days when we really feel like locking up the doors against all the pain and struggle and hunker down to cling to what we know and what makes us comfortable.

That’s why Jesus comes to us as a baby. We let our guard down for a baby. And with a baby we see beyond the pain and fear of these times and we see possibility. When Jesus comes as a baby, he brings hope and possibility with him. Into this chaotic world, hope is born. Here is someone whose life is not yet all laid out, who has gifts to develop, joys to experience. Here is someone who will take us back to our own innocence, our own delight, our own hope for what could be. With Jesus, it is this and more. It isn’t what could be, it is what will be, what God promises, what God is powerfully enacting. Jesus not only breaks in like a thief, but he breaks through all our barriers to give us gifts. Jesus gives us gift of community, others who carry the light of hope and do the hard work together to bring it into reality—feeding the hungry, welcoming those who have been rejected, sharing with others, and living the Pentecost story as we worship in multiple languages. Jesus gives us the gift of new life—life is not easy following Jesus to the cross and losing everything: family, possessions, social status. And yet even death does not have the last word because love never ends and Jesus’ resurrection promise is for us all. We may not see the fullness of the Kingdom of God in this life, yet we work toward a more just world, for moments of love coming through, for connection. Jesus gives us the gift of forgiveness—to be able to try again when we get off course, to be human and make mistakes and not have that define us. Jesus gives us the gift of love—as we welcome this child, he welcomes us and adopts us into his family. Now we are part of something, have obligations to each other, have the benefits of belonging. We have love from God overflowing through all the changes in our world, a revealing light, warmth and hope, a vision that is worth working toward, and a family to work together with that keeps it interesting.

Jesus is born in Bethlehem. We know his life will be full of pain and difficulty. We know he will face challenges from every direction and even that he will die a painful death. Yet we know that his dream and vision continues to be worth fighting for, worth working for. We hold that spark of hope in these troubled times and we vow to find the joy like a small child, to name the injustice like a teenager, and to find our house broken into this season with hope and determination to make life better for another person, to forgive, to share, to speak the truth, and to act until God’s dream is fully realized.

Advent 4, 2025

 

The birth of Jesus took place in a human way.  A human woman became pregnant, an embryo growing in her womb.  She was tired.  She was hungry.  And like so many before her and since, she was pondering.  Some artists and theologians have speculated that Jesus avoided all the humanity of childbirth, but that seems ridiculous to me.  He was fully human, and so I am sure he emerged with a cone head, looking like a little old man, messy, red and wailing.  It’s not a very dignified entrance, but then his death wasn’t either, and neither was much of his life.  He didn’t avoid being human and he didn’t ask us to either.

The birth of Jesus took place in human history.  His father Joseph had dreams like the Joseph with the coat of many colors.  Like that Joseph, too, his father would take him to Egypt.  And like Moses, Jesus would set his people free.  Isaiah once gave this same message about a young woman conceiving and bearing a son to King Ahaz, and also telling him not to fear, and the child that was born was king Hezekiah who was one of the few good Israelite kings.  This story is full of references to God’s actions in times long past, and the way God is faithful in fulfilling God’s promises.

The birth of Jesus took place in a merciful way.  Joseph was a righteous man.  He wanted to do the right thing.  It seemed that Mary had not done the right thing, but that was no reason to cause her more pain than she would already be facing as a single mother.  Joseph was hurt by her apparent actions.  He was disappointed that his plans had fallen through.  He was disappointed that Mary was not who he thought she was.  Yet, Joseph was self-assured enough not to make a huge fuss.  He knew that people would say that the baby was his, or say that he was a fool that his betrothed had relations with someone else.  Still, he was preparing himself to do the right thing and be compassionate and merciful, quietly dismiss her.

God had tried so many ways to lead the people of Israel but mercy and compassion were always part of God’s nature and plans.  God had made Abraham the father of many nations.  God had led the people out of slavery in Egypt, through the Red Sea, through the wilderness, and into the promised land.  Even though they broke the covenant over and over, God was merciful, and gathered them together, with mercy.  It was God’s mercy that caused God to send us Jesus, God’s son, as a baby, to look into our eyes with compassion, to touch our wounds and heal us with mercy, to listen to our complaining, and to forgive us again when we forgot, or ran away, or were selfish. 

The birth of Jesus took place in a brave way.  The angel of the Lord commanded Joseph in a dream not to be afraid.  Joseph was not to be afraid of the gossip that would go on about the child’s parents.  He was not to be afraid about whether Mary was faithful.  He was not to be afraid of the power of God in this new little person.  He was not be afraid of what he might have to do to protect the child.  He was not to be afraid to be father to the Son of God.  So he was not afraid, or at least, if he was, he didn’t act out of his fear.  The Gospel says, “He named him Jesus.”  Naming a child is what a father does to claim his child.  Whether he was afraid or not, Joseph was brave.

The birth of Jesus took place in a quiet way.  Jesus started out very small, the way we all do, not noticeable for several months, living quietly within his mother’s body.  Joseph was going to dismiss Mary quietly—there was no need to make a loud fuss.  Joseph had a quiet dream in the quiet of the night that told his quiet mind what his next step would be.  Joseph quietly married Mary and brought her safely to his home.  Jesus came quietly into the world, perhaps there was a little fuss, but there was no grand party thrown, or huge birth announcement throughout the empire, there weren’t piles of gifts, or hoards of well-wishers.  It was a quiet birth.

That Jesus’ birth took place in a human way, affirms the human in all of us.  We all feel small and vulnerable sometimes.  We all make mistakes.  We all experience discomforts and react to them.  Yet God can work through humans to bring salvation and new life.

And God the birth of Jesus took place in human history.  Human history means that forces beyond ourselves dictate large parts of our lives.  Sometimes it means that our family flees danger.  Sometimes it means that we have more to be generous with than others.  It means that there are other powers in our world, kings and presidents and governors whose policies affect us for good or ill.  And it means our stories are tied up in our family history, and the history of our nation and the condition of our world.  And it means that our stories are part of the story of God’s faithfulness to God’s people throughout history.  Just as God was faithful then, so God is to us.

That the story of Jesus took place in a merciful way, makes it all the more important that we also act with mercy.  It is one thing to be righteous.  When I hear that, I hear “self-righteous,” making myself better than another person.  But for Joseph to be righteous meant that he didn’t judge other people even when their wrong seemed very apparent.  God has been merciful with us, even when we didn’t deserve it.  Every day we have a choice whether to live the way Jesus does, and be merciful to others, showing kindness, shielding people from the cruelty of others, even facing embarrassment and shame ourselves to give someone a break.

The birth of Jesus took place in a brave way.  So many times we hear in the Scriptures, “Do not be afraid.”  This is a command, a commandment, we might say.  It seems that so many of the commandments can be summed up in “Do not be afraid.”  Have no other gods=Do not be afraid that God isn’t enough.  Do not steal=Do not be afraid that you don’t have enough.  Honor your father and mother=Do not be afraid to listen to those with more experience who have your welfare in mind.  Do not commit adultery=Do not be afraid your spouse is not enough or that you are not enough for your spouse.  Do not covet=Do not be afraid that you don’t have enough cattle, spouses, houses, etc.  We are invited to act out of love rather than fear.

There is a lot we could be afraid of if we let ourselves go there, and certainly Joseph had his fair share of things to be afraid of.  But not acting out of fear is to trust God, to know we aren’t alone.  It is knowing that there are others in the community to step in and surround us with the care we need.  It is believing the best about the other person.  It is wanting the best for the other person.  It is willingness to suffer for the sake of another.  It is knowing that sometimes our quiet righteousness is offensive to others and we will face consequences for doing what we know is right. When I hear the story of Jesus’ birth, I want to put fear in its proper place and not let it rule my life.

The birth of Jesus took place in a quiet way.  Can we keep quiet when we feel insulted and keep from shaming other people and making them feel bad?  How can we listen more deeply to our dreams for the voice of God?  How can we quiet ourselves more often in our loud, busy world, and listen for God’s guidance?  How can we quiet the competing messages about what is powerful and worth our time and energy and listen for what really matters?  Can we quietly do good works for others, not taking any praise or attention or recognition, but giving all the glory to God?  Can we humble ourselves before our king and be content with what we have?

This Advent season ends the way it began, “Keep awake!” “Awake from sleep!”  Something is happening that is worth waking up to, God with us.  The last couple of weeks of pregnancy can feel very long.  The mother is feeling uncomfortable.  She can hardly get any sleep.  Everyone is waiting for the phone call.  The baby is doing calisthenics and karate chops.  The suitcase is packed by the door for when the moment comes that this baby will be born.

You are on baby watch!  Look for the signs that he is about to be born.  Someone who is poor bringing food to donate to the Food pantry.  Someone who is alone is invited to join in a holiday celebration.  Someone who has been locked up behind prison doors is set free.  Someone who had been uncertain about where they would be living gets the keys to an apartment.  Someone who has been sick, feels good enough to get up and eat a little.  Someone who has been longing to be with God takes her last breath.  Life is stirring beneath the earth.  A fetus is kicking.  A child is nursing.  An old man and a little child walk hand in hand.  Advent is a beginning, the beginning of God’s reign breaking in.  Wake up and live God’s dream as Jesus is born in our world.

Advent 3, 2025

I invite you to consider for a moment.  When you were growing up, was one parent a disciplinarian and the other more freely showing affection or love?  Was one parent more fun and the other more strict?  Or maybe one parent played both roles.

In today's readings we have John the Baptist and Jesus.  John is more the strict disciplinarian, fiery, warning people, telling them to shape up.  And Jesus is the merciful one who is healing everyone and being more gentle. Maybe we need both sides of this coin to help us reflect on our lives and make changes for the better, but also the love that accepts us for who we are and gives us the confidence to act without fear.

Like I said, John the Baptist is a fiery guy.  Last week he blasted the scribes and pharisees, basically the pastors and bishops of that time and place.  Ouch!  When they come out to see what he's all about in the wilderness, so they can keep him under control, he says, "Who told you to flee from the wrath to come?  Live lives worthy of the Gospel!  Repent!  Change your ways!"  John calls us all out about the self-righteous part of us, the complacent part of all of us.  He doesn't want us sitting idly by thinking we have made it.  He is the prophet Jesus is talking about in today's Gospel.  He addresses their expectations three times--"What did you come out to see?  What did you expect?"  Did you expect someone shaky who would bend in fear of your influence or your criticism?  Far from it.  John had the confidence of a Prophet, because he is one.  Did you expect soft robes?  Did you think John would be concerned about his own comfort?  No!  He's not interested in his own comfort or ours.  He's going to say the things God is asking him to say, because he's a prophet.  He's going to live the life he preaches, so even his robes which are scratchy are a constant reminder to stay alert and work for something greater than our individual comfort.  Did you expect a prophet--someone who stands up to those in power, who speaks on behalf of the poor and oppressed regardless of the consequences he will face?  Yes, Jesus says, "He is a prophet and more.  He is the forerunner, preparing all of you for the Messiah, for God in your midst, for your own transformation and repentance."  John was not what people were expecting.  He was different from other people.  Israel hadn't seen a prophet in a long time.  They were reading about them in their scriptures, but it is another thing entirely to encounter this in a person and try to figure out, what is their motivation, is this person crazy or sharing a counter-cultural message from God, or maybe a little of both.  

Jesus addresses the crowds expectations about John, but John had expectations of Jesus and the Messiah that aren't matching up.  In some ways Jesus is saying to John, "What did you go out to see?"  "What were you expecting?"  John is unsure if Jesus is the one, so he sends a message to Jesus, "Are you the one we've been waiting for or are we still waiting for another?"  I think John was in shock.  His faith may have even been shaken. He had probably been an Essene, part of a group of religious people who spent time in isolation, who removed themselves from this world and lived in the desert wasteland, in order to pray and not be tempted to participate in the evil systems of this world.  John is used to wide-open spaces and lots of quiet.  Now he finds himself imprisoned.  Can you imagine the shock of going from being out in the desert, seeing the sun rise and set every day, connected with the land, feeling the wind, eating what the earth provides, having very little contact with anyone, to this dark prison, with confining walls, in close proximity with lots of other people, no time to himself.  Both places, both the wilderness and the prison, were places of suffering, but one suffering he was used to and had taken on voluntarily and the other was completely foreign to him and antithetical to how he normally connected with God.  So from this prison he addresses Jesus, "Are you really the one, Jesus, or are we still waiting?"  

Jesus gives this answer, basically judge for yourself. The words of the prophets are coming true, their predictions about the Messiah, that the blind would receive their sight, the lame would walk, the deaf would hear, etc.  But what he doesn't say is the part of the prediction that says, "The prisoner will be set free."  I think John is asking, "Where's mine?  If you're doing all these things for everyone else, why am I languishing in prison?  Why do I live every day not knowing if I will be released or executed?  If you really are the one, shouldn't you be breaking me out of this jail, Jesus?"  Of course we all know that it won't be long and John the Baptist's head will be served up on a platter.  He's not going to make it out alive.  John, is more than a prophet.  Of course prophets had often been executed for speaking up against powerful rulers without regard to their own safety, but if we thought that Jesus would have it any easier, that he would live through this and avoid the prophet's fate, what happens to John the Baptist gives us a heads up for where Jesus is headed, and where we are all headed as his followers.

John the Baptist, the disciplinarian, calling people on the mat, saying it like it is, not cutting anyone any slack, calling for repentance.  He's fiery, he's direct, and he's not afraid of anyone. As an Essene, self-discipline would have been his preferred path to God, and he calls on all of us to follow that path and repent.

Jesus is the gentle one. I had to chuckle when first read, "Blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me."  I thought, "That's a pretty low bar."  Jesus is freely handing out blessings.  He's not making anyone jump through any hoops to get these blessings.  He's healing anyone and everyone.  They don't have to pass any test of righteousness or change their life (although I would hope they do).  In fact maybe what was sometimes so offensive about Jesus is how freely he gives love and bestows mercy and brings healing.  People were offended because his love was so widespread and easily accessible and went out to people they didn't see as deserving.

In the reading from James, we get the gentle Jesus, as well.  Be patient, be kind, God is near, it will all work itself out in due time.

However, only the paragraph before this is such fire and condemnation.  Normally I don't get to preach on this because it is too fiery for the lectionary, but it isn't too fiery for the Bible, so here's the John the Baptist paragraph. " Come now, you rich people, weep and wail for the miseries that are coming to you. Your riches have rotted, and your clothes are moth-eaten. Your gold and silver have rusted, and their rust will be evidence against you, and it will eat your flesh like fire. You have laid up treasure for the last days. Listen! The wages of the laborers who mowed your fields, which you kept back by fraud, cry out, and the cries of the harvesters have reached the ears of the Lord of hosts. You have lived on the earth in luxury and in pleasure; you have fattened your hearts in a day of slaughter. You have condemned and murdered the righteous one, who does not resist you."  

Ouch! This scathing condemnation is meant to alert us the dangers of the direction we're headed. We're not getting off the hook. We've put our faith in our things, all the wrong places. But it isn't too late. We can change our focus and look to Jesus and the way of life he offers, of caring for the poor, and visiting the imprisoned, and loving our enemies.

Maybe like two parents or like one parent playing two roles, we need both John the Baptist and Jesus.  Maybe we need the condemnation and wake up call that John provides for us, the awareness of how far we are from the Kingdom Jesus is bringing and how we need to shape up. And we definitely need the love and mercy and free blessing and free gift of God’s grace that Jesus offers, the low bar, the accessibility to God and the Kingdom and God’s love.  That’s what it means to be both saint and sinner as Martin Luther pointed out.  We are convicted by the law that we cannot keep, all the rules that we fail to follow, which turns us toward Jesus for forgiveness and love.  Jesus makes us his brothers and sisters and we respond with lives of thanksgiving in which we do good works out of gratefulness for God’s mercy and love.

We've got these two viewpoints about how to approach God's Kingdom, but Jesus always has the final word. He is the one who adopts us into his family, who died to take away our sin, who invites us to the table of grace. He is the one who is God with us, Emanuel. He is the one who gives us new life. So love and grace have the final word.

Advent 2, 2025

 Two first graders were overheard at the Baptismal Font as they crossed themselves with the water on their fingers over and over, “I still can’t remember my baptism, can you?”  We gather at the font this day when John the Baptist is baptizing at the River Jordan.  Some of us can remember and some of us cannot and some have not yet been to the font and yet are still touched by grace.  It’s a confluence of many stories, God’s story of God saving the people through the water, and our story of being washed, our parent’s story of dedicating us or of guilt or of hope, or who knows what other motivations.  It is the ancient story and the new story that gushes forth together in one river, one bowl, one brow.

            Whether we remember our own baptism or not, Can we remember the ancient story?  These are stories so ancient, of the Spirit moving over the waters, of Noah and the flood giving a chance for transformation again, of the Israelites crossing the Red sea from slavery into freedom only to wander in the wilderness for 40 years unready to trust God, and then the crossing of the Jordan river some 40 years later to again begin a new life.

            These are the stories of stones so ancient, that spring from even more ancient myths in which people are created from stones.  Stones are stacked and they fall.  They make walls, they form altars, they shelter kings, they are reliable.  Stones provide temptation to Jesus to make them into loaves of bread to serve himself as he is tempted.

            These are the stories of trees—the tree of life, the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.  Trees bear fruit, trees give shelter, trees provide leaves that hide nakedness and give healing, trees wither, trees regain strength, trees are cut down, and trees put up shoots again.  And trees bear the Son of God at his crucifixion.

            These are the stories of wilderness, of wandering, of isolation, of learning to trust.  The wilderness is a place to listen for God’s voice, free of distractions, free of comforts.  The wilderness is a place of danger, vulnerability.  It is a place on the margins, where God provides.  From this wilderness a voice cries out, a warning, an invitation, “Prepare the way of the Lord.  Make his paths straight.” 

            These ancient stories converge in this river where wilderness and society converge.  Everything was about to change as Jesus prepares to enter the scene, as he prepares to begin his ministry there at the convergence. 

            On this Peace Sunday, the Gospel seems to have very little peace in it.  John is fiery.  He is warning everyone.  The axe is lying at the root of the tree.  Unquenchable fire is being kindled to burn the chaff.  John calls for repentance and the people actually change direction—that’s what repent means—change directions.  They stop their everyday lives and they come closer to that voice in the wilderness. 

            Why did they come?  Some of them heard a voice they recognized from times of old, that old story of transformation.  Some of them were fleeing the wrath to come—was it a wrath from living their previous way?  Was it a wrath of society that divides and destroys people?  Some of them were curious.  Some of them were hopeful.  Some of them wanted a change.

            It cracks me up because Jonah was a lot like John the Baptist.  He warned the people of Ninevah of the wrath to come.  They repented and then Jonah threw a giant temper tantrum that they actually listened and changed their ways.  John reminds me of this.  The voice is crying out from the wilderness and the people respond.  Maybe not the people John expected, and who knows their motives, but they listen and show up and ask to be washed in the waters of baptism.  So he calls them a brood of vipers—vipers having to do with temptation, maybe.  He asks them who warned them to flee from the wrath to come.  Well, John, you did! 

            John is the full of power.  His voice is powerful.  His message is powerful.  The images he uses is powerful.  He is dressed like the great prophet Elijah, who came with a similar message of repentance.  He walks like a prophet, dresses like a prophet, and eats like a prophet.  He’s probably a prophet.  He is pointing out the hope that is coming into the world, Jesus.  John uses his power to lift up another and to call people to get ready for the Messiah.

            We find ourselves, too, in this crowd listening to John, our story converging with the ancient story, our lives ready for transformation, curious, hopeful, terrified.  What new things was God doing in the lives of all these gathered at the river?  Would any of them meet Jesus, hear him preach, eat of the loaves and fishes?  Would any of them be healed by him?   Would any of them have their whole lives shaken by his teachings?  Would any of them stand at the foot of the cross? Would any of them see him risen from the dead?  Would any of them spread the message of his love and grace, the good news of his salvation?  Would they give their lives to service because of Jesus?  Would any of them be arrested because of their faith?

            We, too, stand on the shores of the river, on the cusp of something new, new life, transformation.  We’re probably here for all kinds of reasons.  Are our motivations pure?  Are any of us really ready?  Maybe not, but God can work with that. 

            Things are changing, ready or not.  Some things are getting chopped down.  They have to go.  Pruning is necessary for health and future growth.  Some habits we can let go of. Some things that are not good for us, distractions can go to make room for what God is doing in our lives.  Some of the chaff, the hard husk is falling away and being burned.  The tough outer shell that keeps people out, the fortifications against enemies are falling away.  The good fruit is exposed. 

This is where the vision takes place of the peaceable Kingdom in Isaiah, where the wolf lies down with the lamb and the child plays over the adder’s den.  Even enemies can find relationship in the kingdom of God.  This is where the vision takes place of the shoot of Jesse comes up from the stump that everyone thought was dead.  This is the invasive tree you tried to chop down and many little shoots started coming up from the roots . 

What we thought was dangerous was not.  What we thought was dead was not.  God is doing a new thing through Jesus.  It is old and it is new.  It is the ancient story of freedom, of hope, of reconciliation, of relationship, of trusting God and starting a journey of discovery, love, and grace.  It is a new story of all the new possibilities, all the new relationship, all the new life that is possible when you clear the threshing floor, making room for Jesus and his upside-down priorities, his sweeping grace, his unconditional love, and his willingness to be cut down, to take our suffering upon himself to free us and claim us.

The axe is at the foot of the tree, has cut down the cross on which hung the savior of the world, destroyed it as a means of doing violence and silencing voices.  Where a dead tree stood, new life will spring up in the community, everyone sharing what they have, generosity bringing life to the community, strangers becoming friends, and the love of God growing in our lives.

Advent 1, 2025

 Last month I spent three hours as Clergy Presence outside of the Immigration and Customs Enforcement building in Portland, also known as the ICE building.  Several of you asked me about it, so I thought I would share with you today.  I attended an online training the month before to understand immigrant rights.  Our immigrant neighbors asked for clergy to be there as a calming, peaceful presence, and a reminder of our to care for immigrants and strangers, to show people that we care community together, and to show up for each other and look out for each other.

I learned a lot and I was moved by what I witnessed there.  I didn’t know what went on at the ICE building before I went.  I was met there by the clergy that was on shift before me and she gave me a little orientation.  There were also about 4 members of PIRC, the Portland Immigrant Rights Coalition.  They help immigrants know their rights and they keep track of who goes in and out of the ICE building and are willing to notify family members if someone does not emerge from the building.  They also take pictures of all the vehicles coming in and out of the parking area and send them to a team to analyze them to see if these are the same cars making raids in the community and bringing people in for questioning and possible detention.

Many immigrants regularly go to the ICE building for appointments to get a green card or turn in paperwork required to live in the United States.  When people went in, they could not be accompanied by family or friends unless they also had the same appointment.  They could not even have a lawyer present or any legal aid.  When people approached the building, sometimes they seemed afraid.  Some were shaking.  The people from PIRC encouraged them.  Most people later emerged looking relieved.  Some had their green card.  Some had taken the next steps in being able to stay in the United States.  So for these people, we cheered and briefly celebrated with them. 

Around the corner at the ICE building, , there was a group of people from the Quaker church protesting.  The protesters stay separate from PIRC and clergy presence to distinguish between our purposes.  The Quakers had protest signs and waved to cars coming down the busy street.  They received lots of honks in support. 

This Gospel story today reminds me of the plight of immigrants in our country, and this is both in Democrat and Republican administrations, that people are whisked away in a moment.  Some are taken and some are left, without a moment to say goodbye.  And that was the same in Matthew’s community.  Some people think this reading is about the rapture, but the rapture was an idea invented about 80 years ago.  It does not exist in the Bible.  What this reading is talking about is that Christians were being arrested, taken because they were seen as a threat to society, because they offered another way of living in love and grace toward others.  Remember  what we read two weeks ago, “You will be dragged before courts and judges…God will give the words and wisdom.  By your endurance you will gain your souls.” 

I’ve often thought about how scary that would be not to know if you could be picked up at any time, whether by ICE or by Roman Soldiers.  Jesus promises his presence when we are hurting or alone or persecuted, and he challenges us to walk with people who are persecuted, he challenges us to walk with the alien in our land and treat them as a citizen.  He knew what it was to be a foreigner in a strange land when his family fled to Egypt to escape Herod.

In this beginning of the church year, the whole calendar sits empty before us.  Holidays and celebration are penciled in, but we have a whole year of possibility.  How do we enter this year?  Maybe in some ways, we enter with dread.  People are out of work and unemployment is rising.  Groceries are expensive.  Tarriffs or the threat of them have raised the cost of many things we might order online.  Our country is divided—we actually share most beliefs, but we talk differently and follow different leaders and so we find ourselves unable to bridge gaps or have difficult conversations.  So dread is one choice.

And we can look at our year with hope.  Hope is the theme of the first Sunday in Advent.  We start out the church year in the darkness of Advent.  It’s a vulnerable moment—quiet, cold, lonely.  I’m thinking of Mary, feeling pretty vulnerable right about now, young and pregnant, not knowing how this is all going to go.  I’m thinking of Joseph, feeling pretty vulnerable right now—did he do the right thing?  What would it mean to be a father to the Christ child?  I’m thinking of families separated and incarcerated in our country.  I think of the people of Ukraine and Gaza.  There are so many possibilities for good or ill and so we with Mary and Joseph, we are getting ready.  The holy family isn’t getting any sleep, so we too get to keep awake.

The command “Keep Awake” is for you plural, so don’t worry, we can take shifts.  We want to be prepared.  There are a couple of levels to preparation.  One is on a practical level.  We want to be prepared to support one another in case of natural disaster.  The flood is specifically named in the scripture.  We’ve been working on this at Trinity, to be prepared to take in neighbors and help each other in case of disaster.  We want to be a blessing.  We’re getting prepared to be a blessing because the world is harsh and there are so many unknowns.

I heard a rumor that some of you don’t intend to prepare because you’re ready to meet God, however, I would like to encourage you to prepare for an emergency because it might not be quick and we’re not going to leave you suffering.  You are part of something greater, the Body of Christ, Trinity Lutheran Church.   We take care of each other, even you, so I encourage you to make some basic preparations beginning with a first aid kit, some food and water, a battery you can charge your phone on so you can possibly communicate with loved ones.

So there is the physical getting ready, but there is another level of readiness, and that is more spiritual.  We begin to get ready when we simply look around us and pay attention.  It’s like getting ready to make a turn when you’re driving.  You are looking close to your car and also up ahead a little way to see what’s coming.  Jesus is asking us to look up and scan ahead.  We want to be on the lookout for dangers but also good things—there very well might be a donut shop where you need to stop, or a friend’s house you want to go to.

We know where we are going, because God has told us to expect it.  We are going where all the tears will be wiped away, where all creation will be drawn together, where peace reigns.  So as we scan we are ready for all the road blocks and dangers along the way, but we go with joy and hope because we know where we are going, and we know it’s going to be good.

God is coming like a thief.  That is kind of a mixed message, because God is good and thieves are bad.  Are we supposed to have dread or hope?  Maybe God comes like a thief because we lock up our house tight against such radical love and welcome.  We can’t imagine this world God promises.  We’re not prepared to change our ways.  But God isn’t letting us stay the same, stay safe and keep our old priorities, so God breaks in and steals our former obsessions with security and wealth and people speaking well of us, and God leaves us relying on each other, building community, helping our neighbors, and living God’s love.