Invitations

 for First Presbyterian, Inverness

Matthew 22:1-14; Philippians 4:1-9

Out of curiosity, I watched the video of last week’s service, Rev Shane’s sermon on the parable of the vineyard. I agree with him. It would be easy to not preach about the parables that show up in the lectionary this time of year. But, without them, we wouldn’t have the whole story. So, we preachers do our best to bring them to you.

Can you imagine … The future King William of England sends you an invitation to the wedding of his son Prince George. The invitation is all-inclusive and includes airfare, hotel and meals for all the wedding activities. And you send an RSVP saying “no thank you.” That’s pretty unlikely, isn’t it?

But, what if some of your best friends from high school or college invited you to their wedding anniversary party? You weigh the advantages and disadvantages: the need to find a replacement for yourself at the Saturday Church yard sale, the cost of getting there, the hotel stay, the difficulty of air travel lately, the inconvenience of traveling with a walker or a C-Pap, and so forth. By the time you consider all that attending the party entails, you prefer to say “no, sorry, we can’t go.”

And your best friends hear this “No, sorry” from the whole group of friends. But they still want to have a party to celebrate, so they invite the friends they have made in the last year since they moved into the retirement community. These new friends love a party, so they accept the invitation. And the most obnoxious person in the group includes herself in the invitation. She’s loud, she makes fun of everyone in the nastiest way, and she has extreme body odor. Your friends quickly and not so quietly ask this guest to leave.

In the same way, Jesus tells a parable that is a real horror story. It’s filled with invitations and refusals, with violence, and a stunning rejection. And we just don’t get it.  Like many of Jesus’ parables, we don’t quite grasp the point. Sometimes, it’s cultural. We are 2,000 years from Jesus’ time and place and customs. Sometimes, it’s our failure to see the grace Jesus offers. And sometimes, it’s because the target of the story is not us. Or, at least we hope it’s not us.

Many of Jesus’ parables are aimed at criticizing the leadership – the king, the priests, the temple leaders. The ancient covenants and the prophets all emphasize care of the poor, the widows, the resident foreigner, but the leaders are doing their best to get rich and powerful at the expense of the poor folks.

This story doesn’t just happen as Jesus walks along the road on his way from city to city. It takes place in Jerusalem during what we call Holy Week – which probably lasted several weeks in real time. Day after day, Jesus goes to the temple with some of the disciples. Crowds gather, in spite of the lack of TikTok or Facebook notifications. Some come to believe because of his words and deeds. Some are just curious. And some are keeping an eye on him, to catch him in some blasphemy or law-breaking.

Already by this point in Matthew, Jesus has caused a disruption among the money changers and vendors. He has told stories about disobedient sons and violent tenants. He has declined to say by what authority he does what he does. Last week’s reading ended this way: ⁴⁵ When the chief priests and the Pharisees heard his parables, they realized that he was speaking about them. ⁴⁶ They wanted to arrest him, but they feared the crowds, because they regarded him as a prophet. The leaders are hoping for any excuse to get rid of this guy who won’t stop criticizing them. So, back to the parable …

In this parable, while we are stunned at the violence, we are truly puzzled by the rejection of the guest who didn’t come wearing a wedding garment. I couldn’t find a true description of what this might be. Let’s just make up something – let’s say the wedding guests all were supposed to wear a red shawl. The refusal to wear a wedding garment was considered rude in that culture. This fellow wasn’t wearing even an old, dirty, red shawl.

Just to muddy the interpretation even more … It’s also possible that the verses about the wedding guest and “some are chosen” was added by a later scribe or editor who wanted to emphasize the need to make a choice to follow Jesus, or not.

By now, you are all probably saying to yourselves (or whispering to your neighbor!) that I haven’t said the real reason at all. And you’d be right. You may know this saying, “If you feed them, they will come.”

The real reason is probably that the person came just for the food, not for the celebration. The wearing of the garment indicated recognition of the specialness of the event. And the king noticed, reacted, and had the fellow ejected. “If you are not here to share in our joy and celebration, you don’t belong here!”

This of course does not mean that if you come to worship and are feeling sad or suffering from depression, that you don’t deserve to be here. On the contrary! Those who come to worship despite the way their heart feels know the joy that being in Jesus’ presence offers. We know that we will be supported and hugged – or not! – by the members of our community of faith.

Sally’s brother died on a Saturday. She didn’t sleep that night. And yet, she went to worship on Sunday, because: “Where else would I be?!” One of her close friends hugged her and said, “That’s really (bathroom word deleted).” And Sally cried through the service. She wasn’t there for the celebration, but she was there for the joy being with Jesus and his people brought.

The Apostle Paul has some more thoughts about Jesus and joy. (read Philippians)

Of all the congregations Paul has started, the church at Philippi is the most dear to him. They have helped him several times when he was arrested and in prison. Earlier in this letter, Paul has included an early hymn about Jesus, who emptied himself. He invites the believers to “be of the same mind as Christ.”

In our text, Paul singles out two women, Euodia and Syntyche. It’s true, it has been assumed the women have had some difficulties between them. But what if, instead, he is praising them for the way they are growing in faith and living more closely to the life of service described in the hymn? Can you imagine being singled out for special comment by Paul!? These three people have been particularly helpful in the ministry and he urges Clement to help them even more than he has already.

In this era of the Roman Empire, everyone is expected to worship the Roman gods, including the Emperor – who often declared himself the son of god, or even a god, depending on which guy was on the throne at the time. In about 49CE Emperor Claudius expelled the Jews and the Christian sect of Jews from the city of Rome. The Roman historian Suetonius wrote that Claudius expelled Jews from Rome because they were "constantly rioting under the leadership of Chrestus". Just a few years after the resurrection the Jews and the Christians far from Jerusalem were already, or rather still, having disagreements about who Jesus was.

This is what Paul is referring to: it can be a struggle to be a believer in Jesus Christ.  Even so, they should all rejoice. Reading this verse always reminds me of the song from Handel’s Messiah. I won’t sing – I promise you, you don’t want to hear me – but let those words and the music flow through your minds for a moment. Rejoice, rejoice, rejoice greatly. (If possible, play the music)

What are we rejoicing about? Jesus’ resurrection. Forgiveness. God’s love for all. And the way that love is expressed in our relationships with each other. We share the peace, here with one another. And we share it outside the congregation, with newborns and their mamas; with those moving into new homes; with those who are hungry; with those who need a kind word from someone, and so forth.

And here, Paul helps us live each day as if in the mind of Christ. Whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.

It is hard, these days, to always think only honorable, pure, virtuous, etc thoughts. I don’t watch the news a lot; I figure if something happens that I should know about, someone will tell me. I delete 50 text messages a day without reading them. I don’t spend long on social media because I get frustrated. I wish there was a button on my TV to eliminate political ads as soon as I mailed my ballot.

And I try to treat all people as Jesus would, with kindness, respect, love. Which takes us back to the Gospel reading. Did you notice that with the exception of the fellow without the wedding garment, everyone was welcome at the party? The good and the bad – whatever that means? Even those who make it hard for us to think lovely, kind, honorable thoughts deserve just that.

Yesterday there were a series of posts, invitations really, in my Franciscan team messages to be prayerful about the upcoming election. Some are serving as chaplains at poll sites. Some are holding prayer vigils, in person or online. And so, I invite you, too, to be prayerful about the elections. Hold the candidates and the voters and the poll workers and the county elections office in prayer, that this election will be fair, honest, and safe for all.

Please pray with me. Jesus, you invite us to join you, wherever we are, because you are already there. Help us to see you in all people, and to be of one mind with you, giving and serving and loving, just as you did. Amen

 

Plan B?

 

Matthew 15:[10-20] 21-28

Just because I am not preaching from a pulpit right now doesn’t mean I am not pondering the texts each week. The Gospel for August 16 always makes me cheer for the Canaanite woman. Often, the story that precedes this story is omitted, since it is an option. But let’s include it, because there is a fascinating correlation between the two stories.

 In the first story, Jesus and the disciples discuss what defiles a person, what makes a person unrighteous in God’s eyes, according to the rules currently in use.

Apparently, the Pharisees had criticized the disciples for eating with unwashed hands. Perhaps, they are sitting outside at a “picnic” and had no way to wash. Perhaps they were inside – which means they had washed their hands at the same time as they washed the soil of the street off their feet. And the issue was really that they didn’t use the ritual finger bowls before eating.

Jesus makes it clear that it is not what goes into a person but what comes out of them. What comes out of a person comes from their heart, or their guts, and sometimes that defiles them. So, the lack of finger bowls does not defile them.

Then the next story is about what comes out of the mouth of a non-Jewish woman. She begs Jesus to heal her daughter. Jesus claims it is not the right time for Gentiles to benefit from God’s healing. She, a foreign woman, begs him again. Perhaps she is face down in the dirt, pleading. But when Jesus calls her a dog, a cur, she stands up with fire in her eyes and gives Jesus her response: But even the dogs eat the crumbs under the table.

Her words prove to Jesus that, sometimes, his plan needs some adjustment, because the words from a foreigner’s mouth are worthy of his attention.  Whether Jesus was thinking of tradition, or has in mind a plan of how his mission will unfold, he has been caught thinking like a human. He has limited the plan to Jews. This foreign woman has challenged his assumptions.

What’s the lesson for us? That it’s easy to get caught up in limiting thinking. We make plans and try to stick to the plans. And sometimes, we need to broaden our thinking. We need to make exceptions. We need to revise our plans. Sometimes, we need to pay attention to the movement of God’s Holy Spirit.

As soon as he figured this out, Jesus was gracious to the woman, and healed her daughter. And he went farther, he praised the woman for her great faith.

I hope we will all remember that sometimes, we need to heed the movement of the Holy Spirit, and revise our plans and expectations.  

Sacred Ground

 

2026 07 19 Sermon for First Presbyterian, Inverness

Genesis 28:10-19a; Psalm 139:1-12, 23-24; Romans 8:12-25; Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43

 Let’s begin with a question: what, for you, is sacred ground? Last weekend I was in central Ohio at Emanuel Lutheran Church, a beautiful old building in downtown Marion, a block away from the equally old and beautiful Presbyterian Church. But it was not the building that made the ground sacred, it was the folks I was with. It was the annual meeting of the Order of Lutheran Franciscans and the time we spent together made it holy ground for us. 

A place is called sacred because we have an encounter with God there. We could have been at Liberty Park or Stumpknockers here in Inverness, it still would have been holy ground for us.  You see, it’s not necessarily the location but an event or moment that makes a location sacred. It’s a place where we believe we have had an encounter with the Divine.

But, even with that understanding, we are forgetting something.  In Genesis 1, the author describes the beginning of every thing, and God calls it good. In other words, everything touched by God is sacred. It’s us people who tend to limit the holy to our own understanding and preferences. Still, we also like to identify some moments as especially sacred, and we often mark that place or moment with a marker of some kind.

In the reading from Genesis, Jacob has a dream or vision of angels ascending and descending a ladder that connects earth and heaven. He sets up a stone to mark the spot as sacred ground, because this is a place where God is. Scholars debate how big the stone was. “Was it bigger than a bread box?”, for example. It must have been large enough to be located again. Who wouldn’t want to return to such holy, sacred ground?

Today, we have a fuller understanding. We call the lands of Israel and Palatine and Egypt the Holy Lands. The land, ha-Aretz in Hebrew, al-Quds in Arabic, is holy, sacred ground. Never mind that peoples have fought for control of it since biblical times, it is sacred to Jews, Christians, and Muslims, because it was given to the people of God, by God, thousands of years ago.

In the Gospel reading, Jesus tells a puzzling story. It seems fairly simple to us: seeds are planted, crops grow, and there are weeds among the wheat! But pulling the weeds out while the wheat is still growing will uproot the wheat as well. So, it’s best to wait until harvest time to do the separation; by then it will be easier to see the difference and separate them. Then the weeds should be harvested first, bundled and burned, with the wheat gathered into the barn. Actually, today, we spread weed killer while the weeds are still small.

The disciples ask Jesus to explain this parable. There is lots of scholarly speculation about whether this explanation came from Jesus, because he usually doesn’t explain parables. But, it’s in the text we have, so we accept it and deal with it. The explanation is an allegory, assigning a category to each element in the parable, and separating the good elements from the evil elements, people who do good from people who do evil.

The Jews of Jesus’ time paid special attention to the labeling of people as in or out of favor with God. This radical acceptance of weeds among the wheat must have sent the disciples’ brains spinning. What do you mean, to let them stay? Don’t the weeds contaminate the wheat? Won’t the Gentiles spoil the righteousness of the Jews, and ruin us all forever?

I notice in this parable and its explanation is that the judging is done at the harvest time, at the end time, whenever that is, and that the harvesters are angels – which means they are messengers of God – and it is Jesus who will do the judging.  

And what I notice about Jesus the judge is that he welcomes many people that others would call unwelcome. So, perhaps, there will be some weeds among the wheat in Jesus’ barn. I am reminded of a quote I heard a long time ago. Weeds are plants we haven’t found a good use for, yet. So, even if the wheat could be considered sacred and the weeds not sacred, it’s not up to us to do the labeling.

Paul gives us some further instruction, I think, in what is sacred ground. We are all God’s children, and rendered sacred by virtue of the Holy Spirit dwelling within us. Our experience in the world may be easy or challenging. It may appear to others that we don’t know God, or that God doesn’t know us. But it is only in the sorting at the end of the age, or the end of our own days on earth, that we may be labeled wheat or weed, good fruit or not. But we know, because God has said so, that we are God’s beloved children, destined for salvation, for being made whole, holy, sacred.

Psalm 139 is my favorite psalm. Whenever I read it, I am assured, reassured actually, that I am never alone. God is always with me, even if I don’t want God watching me. There is no way to escape God. And indeed, why would I want to!? Do I feel weedy sometimes, and wish God didn’t see that? Sure! But the psalmist assures us that there is no place we can go that God is not present. God’s presence with us makes everywhere we are sacred ground. So, God sees my weedy moments and remembers that I am God’s own child, and therefore not a weed.

Our nation, and the whole world, is at odds with one another. Wars erupt. Politicians won’t work together to pass legislation. This is also true in circles much smaller than national and local politics. It happens in congregations, and in families. We find it harder and harder to have a pleasant conversation. We decry one another’s beliefs and activities, and we refuse to consider the opinions of the other as valuable. It’s too easy to label people as weeds or wheat.

What’s the antidote: to remember that everyone lives on what they consider sacred ground. And to remember that God considers each person a beloved child, filled with God’s Spirit, and to treat even those we mistrust as God’s children. Amen

Parenthood

 For First Presbyterian, Inverness, FL

Genesis 21:8-21; Romans 6:1b-11; Matthew 10:24-39

I want to begin with Genesis 12: Now the Lord said to Abram, “Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you. ² I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. ³ I will bless those who bless you, and the one who curses you I will curse, and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.”

This promise influences the entire Bible, the stories of all the characters who live in relationship with God, from Abraham to Moses to David to Isaiah to Jesus and Peter and Mary Magdalene, and to us today.

Some of today’s readings tell stunning stories. The story from Genesis sounds like a soap opera: Sarah can’t conceive so she has her husband Abraham sleep with her best friend, Hagar. Today, we call this surrogacy, and the process is done in a lab, but 4,000 years ago direct interaction was the only way.  

The soap opera continues: When baby Ishmael is born, Hagar lives in an apartment over the garage, so she can be close to her son and see him often.  Maybe she even provides childcare for Ishmael. And that works until Sarah herself finally gives birth to her own child, Isaac. Then Sarah forces Hagar to leave with Ishmael. Abraham gives Hagar some money, but it runs out too soon, and she and the baby are living in a shelter for homeless families a few hundred miles away.

The Bible story puts the blame on Sarah’s jealousy, her fear that Ishmael was Abraham’s favorite son. It doesn’t tell us how long this controversy in the family lasted. I suspect it was months, or longer. And it doesn’t tell us how Abraham felt about having to send his first-born son away, other than providing what he could to Hagar and Ishmael as they left.

In the world of soap operas, Hagar would either be gone, a lesser cast member fired because her storyline ran out, or her storyline would continue to occasionally interact with Sarah and the new baby. It’s unlikely that the soap opera storyline would include an appearance of God bringing the assurance that Ishmael would be as blessed as Isaac.

However, in the world of the Bible, as Hagar struggles to find food and water for herself and her child, God appears, and gives her a promise almost identical to the one given to Abraham years earlier. “I will make a great nation of him.” In another retelling of this story in Genesis 16, it’s even closer to the one for Abram.

The half-brothers are never close, but apparently keep in touch because both Isaac and Ishmael are at the burial of Father Abraham. And today, this story is remembered as the faith foundation story for the Muslims. The three generations of Abraham, Ishmael, and Nebaioth parallel the Jewish stories of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.

Fast-forward about 2,000 years to Jesus talking with his disciples. “I want to warn you,” he says, “that it will not be easy to follow me. There will be conflict. There will be broken families. You have to put following me above everything in your life. But I promise you that I will care for you even more than I care for the sparrows.”

 And Jesus gets even more specific: husbands and wives will be set against each other; siblings won’t agree with each other; and even parent-child relationships will be torn apart. All because some will believe in Jesus and follow his way, and others will insist that Jesus blasphemes. It’s a wonder families survived at all, because what Jesus predicted was true.

Still, Jesus promises that there will be blessings in following him. By the time of Moses and the prophets, the promise originally given to Abraham had been adapted: “I will be your God and you will be my people.” It’s the promise of a loving, everlasting relationship, expressed in many metaphors.

God is the king, who reigns benevolently over the people. God is the good shepherd, who guides and guards the sheep. God is the mother bear, who protects her cubs from danger. And God is our Father, much better than any human parent. Jesus teaches us, in other parts of the gospels, what it means for God to be our father. God is not a distant mountain but a loving parent who seeks a loving, caring relationship with all of us. Pray like this: Our abba in heaven …

Let’s look at what we might learn about parenthood, then, from these stories. Abraham and Sarah and Hagar teach us how hard it can be to be family; there are conflicts and jealousy and yet loving bonds that last a lifetime.  Jesus teaches his disciples, including us today, how hard it can be to be his faithful followers, but says, I’ll be with you, even when it’s hard. Keep on following me. And Paul explains that it’s worth it to live the baptized, resurrected life, in relationship with God the Father of Jesus.  

Many of us were raised with the image of parenting shown on TV, in shows like Father Knows Best, or Eight Is Enough. But these stories were not realistic, at least in the sense of how quickly issues were resolved, if not in the sense that some real-life issues are never really resolved.

In real life, it’s hard to be a parent, to know what is best for each child, for the family. We’re going to make mistakes, even as we are trying to be fair. I still carry resentment at a decision made by my parents. It was certainly not earth-shattering, like the story of Hagar. But I remember it. On Saturday nights in Chicago, Gunsmoke was a 30-minute show that started at 8pm and we always watched it as a family. Then, one year, it began airing in color, and lasted for 60 minutes. That meant our bedtime moved from 8:30 to 9pm, and my parents decided that it would be too late. So, we couldn’t watch it at all, and bedtime was 8pm. Mom and Dad wouldn’t even make an exception for me, the oldest at 13, a teenager!

This week, I hope you will spend some time thinking about this: What kind of parents did you have? If you are a parent or grandparent, what kind of parent or grandparent are you? In what ways is God your loving, forgiving Father or Parent? Or do you describe God differently? Amen.  

Finding and creating community

 Matthew 9:9-13, 18-26

Pastor Shannon Kiser, the Speaker at the Synod Assembly last week, talked about the many ways the church could be community for folks who are otherwise unconnected to a church, or even to God. Her proposal is that the church can grow in community by helping outside groups to know Jesus indirectly and informally.

Let’s look at these stories from Matthew’s Gospel with an eye out for community surrounding the people in the story. Some are stories of inclusion, while others are stories of exclusion. Since God loves all, inclusion for all is God’s plan.

Matthew the tax collector was perhaps a wealthy man, but more likely he was a middle-income figure. Tax collection was a contracted business, with the actual work being done by subcontractors and sub-subcontractors. So, his wealth would depend on his status. Most likely with the location of rural Galilee, Matthew was a sub-subcontractor.

There were several taxes. Two of them were the poll tax, levied on individuals over the age of 12 for boys, or 14 for girls, payable in coin. And the land tax, which was payable with the produce of the land. As we know today, unpaid taxes on the land can cause a family to lose its land. Then as now, the cruelty of these taxes and collection practices could cause many people to be turned off their ancestral land. Because tax collectors were ultimately working for the Romans, they were considered traitors by the Jews.

So, it was scandalous for Jesus to approach Matthew, have a conversation with him, and then eat at his home. The scandalous-ness was expanded when the dinner guests included more tax collectors and other sinners.

The Pharisees were quick to react. Why does your teacher eat with these yucky people? Of course, Jesus overhears the question and responds that healthy people don’t need medical care, but sick people do. And … Think about this saying from Amos: I desire mercy, not sacrificial actions.

So, where is the community in this first story? Of course, the Pharisees were their own community, ready to support those in the in-group who were in need. The tax collectors and other outcasts formed groups, communities, of people like themselves. They all lived with the scorn of the Jewish leaders. But as a group they could support each other, helping when someone was ill or injured, or a family was in need.

And right after this story, Gospel writer Matthew tells us another story.  In his story-telling style, Matthew occasionally sandwiches two stories together, with one story interrupting the other and offering contrasting circumstances.

A leader, a wealthy, important man, approaches Jesus and asks him to rush to his home because his daughter has just died. At the home, there is already a crowd of professional mourners. These folks are loudly wailing and playing sad tunes on their flutes, forming community around the family.

Jesus arrives and sends the mourners home, and then enters the girl’s room. Jesus takes her hand and she gets up out of bed. And now, the natural community of family and friends and neighbors can support the daughter and hear over and over the story of her restoration to health. The story of this healing spreads like wildfire.

While Jesus, surrounded by a large community -- his disciples and followers, and the family and friends of the leader -- hurries to the leader’s home, he is interrupted by a woman who has been bleeding for twelve years. She says to herself, if I just touch the fringe of his cloak, I will be made well. Jesus notices healing power leaving him, and turns to see who it was.

He speaks to her, “Daughter, you have been made well.”  Another daughter, healed, in very different circumstances. Women’s bleeding makes them ritually unclean; men, even husbands and close family, can’t touch them without also being made unclean. So, this woman lacks community. She may have folks who help her, but they don’t touch her.

Some of us know what it is like to not be touched, to not be hugged, perhaps because of family situations. But we don’t know what it is like to not be touched for years because of some rule that says we are untouchable.

It is for people like this that the church can be a resource for welcoming community. What if the women of the synagogue had said, We think you should not have to go alone, so we’ll go with you and ask Jesus to heal you. We’ll make it so Jesus can’t miss seeing you. And if he says, no, we’ll still love you and care for your needs.

Leone, Kathy, Mike and I heard several presentations about communities within and outside the congregation by the Keynote speaker, Rev Shannon Kiser. Her messages cause us to wonder: where can Gloria Dei find communities that need support and encouragement? What would it mean to befriend the kids who ride through the parking lot after school every day? What would it mean to include the neighbors in a project of their choosing? What would happen if a portion of the yard became a community garden? What is God leading you to do next?

As Gloria Dei enters a new chapter of life with Pr Tony, it will take some adjusting, some learning about each other, before it feels like he belongs to this community. My prayers will be with you as you continue to grow and adapt to new circumstances and perhaps develop new communities that can come to know the love of Jesus you all experience already.

I thank you for the way you have welcomed and included Mike and me in your community. We will certainly miss you all. Amen