10 Pentecost (Year C)
Hebrews 11:29-2:2
St. John’s, West Seneca
August17, 2025
Grace to you and Peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
From Jon Winokur's wonderful collection of wisdom called The Portable Curmudgeon (New York: Plume, 1992) come the following observations about what makes life wonderful:
* Life is far too important a thing ever to talk seriously about. --Oscar Wilde
* All men should strive to learn before they die what they are running from, and to, and why. --James Thurber
* Life is like a dogsled team. If you ain't the lead dog, the scenery never changes. --Lewis Grizzard
* Life is too short to balance a checkbook. --Howard Ogden
* Life is what you do when you can't get to sleep. --Fran Lebowitz
* There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.
--Albert Einstein
* Hope for the best. Expect the worst. Life is a play. We're unrehearsed . --Mel Brooks
How many of us think about wonder? We use the word “wonderful” for almost anything. This is an odd way to start your day, but think on it for a moment. Wonder, by its very nature, cannot be programmed into our busy schedules. And genuine wonder quickens your heartbeat – or stop it. Wonder may leave you speechless, or it might freeze you in your tracks. Genuine wonder strikes you without warning.
Fourteenth-century mystic Julian of Norwich wrote about the wonder of it all, that ... ”As the body is clothed in cloth and the muscles in the skin and the bones in the muscles and the heart in the chest, so we are, body and soul, clothed in the Goodness of God…” Meditations With Julian of Norwich, Introduction and Versions by Brendan Doyle (Santa Fe, N. M.: Bear & Company, Inc., 1983), 29.
However, the last century with all of its scientific breakthroughs, has left us with cynicism and our sense of wonder lacking. We have been content to relegate wonderment to the experiences of the young and naive. It is true that in youth we are much more alive to the wonders that surrounded us. I remember taking my three year old nephew for a walk. It was not a brisk walk, but one with everything being pointed out for the first time. A stick, a leaf, the color of a car. Everything for him was new and wonder-ful.
But we were not always this unaware.
“In the 16th and 17th centuries, among the most prized pieces of furniture well-off families maintained were "wonder cabinets." These were simply knickknack shelves, but dedicated to displaying collections of natural wonders. Our ancestors used to go what they called "marveling" in the world. They would go "marveling" and come back with unique butterflies. They would go "marveling" and come back with four-leaf clovers. They would go "marveling" and come back with shimmering seashells. They would put the triumphs of their "marvelings" in their wonder cabinets.”
Our ancestors also went "marveling" in the for items created by humans that caused wonder. The "wonders" of nature sat in the wonder cabinets alongside human curiosities such as Egyptian hieroglyphs, maybe an arrowhead…Wonder cabinets were like momentary museums to the miraculous, giving their owners the chance for a daily dose of wonderment and marveling.
What's in your wonder cabinet? Most of us don’t have such a thing, but ask yourself: when is the last time you went "marveling"? Nature is a good place to start. Antique shops and flea markets are the best. My dad once found a medal for his watch fob for the election of 1904: Teddy Roosevelt and Alton Parker. I have found at various places a device that weighs eggs, a darning egg. On Ebay, I found a piece of Spanish pottery made specifically for serving olives.
“A genuine sense of wonder is born when we cultivate an openness to all that cannot be understood, which can scarcely be believed. Bernal Diaz, who accompanied Cortés on the conquest of Mexico and subsequently recorded the adventure in his The Conquest of New Spain, at one point similarly recalls the Spaniards' first spellbound vision of the Aztec capital: "Gazing on such wonderful sights, we did not know what to say, or whether what appeared before us was real" (Lawrence Weschler, Mr. Wilson's Cabinet of Wonder [New York: Pantheon, 1995], 80-81).
I remember that line from the movie Gladiator, when the one gladiator says upon seeing the coliseum: I did not know men could build such things.
I thought that the first time I ever saw the cathedral in Chartres, then again when I saw Notre Dame.
So can we recover this sense of wonder and awe? Can our minds be blown by God's beauty? By the gifts that God endows upon us?
In today’s Hebrews text, we are asked to remember the spiritual wonderment of our ancestors. We first see the wonderful works God did with the parting of the Red Sea and the Walls of Jericho that collapsed. We read of the faith of Moses, Joshua and Rahab. The writer goes on mentioning the judges and others: Gideon, Barak, Samson, Jephthah, of David and Samuel and the prophets. But then stops, probably when he realized the list is extensive.
And so the writer of Hebrews continues the faithfulness of those who were persecuted, tortured and martyred. Such steadfast faithfulness is as awe-inspiring as the parting of the Red Sea, the collapsing walls of Jericho, or the deliverance of the land of Canaan. A martyr's faith is indeed a wonder. Who cannot be amazed at what men and women can accomplish, can endure, can turn to triumph, when they live by faith and not by sight?
Did you know that:
“In the 16th century, Bibles were "chained" books -- literally chained to church walls and posts so that over-zealous parishioners would not make off with them. They were often chained together with Fox's Book of Martyrs -- a grisly, gory, gruesome retelling in print and pictures, words and woodcuts of some of the most horrific tales of Christian martyrdom. (If the truth be told, it was actually Fox's sensational book more than the Bible that was in danger of being ripped off by eager readers.) Fox's work was known as "Acts and Monuments," i.e., "Wonders of God," reminding readers that it was the enduring faith of martyrs, not the singular fate they suffered, which was the reason they were remembered and honored by the church.”
The writer does not brag about the persecution and deaths suffered by the martyrs he speaks of. Instead, he lists them so we may wonder at their faithfulness. The question is whether we can cultivate that wonder at the supernatural? And then, of course, ask ourselves:
Could we have such courage in the face of persecution?
Could we testify and stand for God when so many are straying?
Can we fully embrace "the assurance of things hoped for" and "the conviction of things not seen.”?
Do we realize that generations past, like a "great cloud of witnesses," surround us at all times with the testimony of their faithfulness?
There is wonder all around us. But even though we are surrounded by this great cloud, too often we are blind to its beauty and power, just like we are so often blind to the wonders around us
When was the last time you went marveling? When was the last time you “wondered” about the great people of faith that brought us here today. Amen.
Soli Deo Gloria
9 Pentecost (Year C)
Luke 12: 32-40
St. John’s, West Seneca
August 10, 2025
[Jesus said:] 32 “Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom. 33 Sell your possessions and give alms. Make purses for yourselves that do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. 34 For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.
35 “Be dressed for action and have your lamps lit; 36 be like those who are waiting for their master to return from the wedding banquet, so that they may open the door for him as soon as he comes and knocks. 37 Blessed are those slaves whom the master finds alert when he comes; truly I tell you, he will fasten his belt and have them sit down to eat, and he will come and serve them. 38 If he comes during the middle of the night or near dawn and finds them so, blessed are those slaves.
39 “But know this: if the owner of the house had known at what hour the thief was coming, he would not have let his house be broken into. 40 You also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an hour you do not expect.”
Grace to you and Peace from God our Father and the LORD Jesus Christ. Amen.
Last week, we had the parable of the rich fool, who thought he had it all figured out and safely put away, until his life was demanded of him. He was rich, but not rich to God.
So, between last week’s reading and today’s Gospel is this:
He said to his disciples, “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat, or about your body, what you will wear. 23 For life is more than food and the body more than clothing. 24 Consider the ravens: they neither sow nor reap, they have neither storehouse nor barn, and yet God feeds them. Of how much more value are you than the birds! 25 And which of you by worrying can add a single hour to your span of life?[d] 26 If then you are not able to do so small a thing as that, why do you worry about the rest? 27 Consider the lilies, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin,[e] yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. 28 But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, how much more will he clothe you, you of little faith! 29 And do not keep seeking what you are to eat and what you are to drink, and do not keep worrying. 30 For it is the nations[f] of the world that seek all these things, and your Father knows that you need them. 31 Instead, seek his[g] kingdom, and these things will be given to you as well.”
On the heels of a parable about a rich fool, is that section about not worrying about anything. Jesus reminds us that the lilies of the field and the ravens are cared for…and so are we.
And that is where we pick up today. Jesus continues to speak about possessions.
“Sell your possessions and give alms. Make purses for yourselves that do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."
We know that although the rich man built larger barns and filled them with abundant harvests, he died without ever being able to appreciate it. He is the epitome of someone who strives after the pleasures of life and forgets Jesus’s teaching that “one’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions.” The rich man’s treasure is not God, but his earthly treasures.
After a reminder to sell your possessions, there is a quick change when Jesus reminds us to be alert. What does that mean exactly? To be ready?
In the Israel of Jesus's time, to be ready for work meant adjusting your robes. The robes that most wore were long and flowing, and so to ready yourself for work, you gathered them up so that working – and walking, for that matter – left you prepared for the work day ahead. Girding your loins is the official term. And keeping the lamp was a matter of trimming the wick, and replenishing the oil so the light would not go out. This is like Matthew’s parable of the wise and foolish bridesmaids. Ten bridesmaids are waiting for the arrival of the bridegroom. Five of the ten were not ready, for they had no oil for their lamps. They are not allowed into the wedding banquet to enjoy the party. Matthew and Luke both remind us to be ready, to be watchful, for the master may knock on the door at any hour.
So, let’s put it in terms that we understand. Most of us don’t wear long flowing robes and rarely use oil for our lamps.
There was a bad storm in Minnesota just two weeks ago. A friend posted a picture on Facebook that caught the intensity of the sky. I posted it this morning as well. I remember those storms. So, researching a bit, I found this list of what to be on the lookout for if in tornado country.
- Green sky
- Hail
- Approaching cloud of debris
- Still and quiet
- and then, of course, sirens
This storm just missed the farm, where it was very windy, but just a few miles to the east and south, they were not so lucky. My sister said the civil defense sirens went off warning everyone; the sky turned that black-green. One of her friends got the worst of it. Her pontoon ended up across the lake where she lives; her dock was overturned. Trees were snapped off. No loss of life, largely because people are watchful, alert, knowing the signs of severe weather and taking cover.
And most of us are prepared as well, especially when it comes to winter. Our lamps may not be trimmed, but our car has an emergency snow kit. I have extra boots, wool socks, a candle or two, matches, some food and water, an extra blanket and so on. And since Sno-vember back in 2014, from the first snow on, my shovel is in the back seat. For my home, I stock up on batteries for my flashlights, plenty of peanut butter, canned peaches, crackers, just in case the electricity goes out. Be ready, because we know that the weather can change in an instant.
For Jesus, being watchful is a matter of putting God before all else. For Jesus, it is about putting our desire for earthly possessions in second place. To be alert and ready for the kingdom is simply that: God first. In this fast and busy world, that seems to be the hardest thing to accomplish. Besides being tempted with earthly things that seem too good to pass up, we always seem to have so many things to do before we put God first. To be alert, we need to take an inventory each day and put God first.
Most importantly, being alert is to have peace with God. “Is God a stranger, an enemy whom we fear? Or do we live with the reality that when that day comes we will return to God, in whom there is not darkness, in whom there is no danger, no fear?”
Being alert is not so much something to prepare for as it is a state of being. So be alert to the temptations that take us away from God, even though their promises seem to offer peace and comfort. Take Jesus's words to heart: “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat, or about your body, what you will wear. 23 For life is more than food and the body more than clothing. 24 Consider the ravens: they neither sow nor reap, they have neither storehouse nor barn, and yet God feeds them. Of how much more value are you than the birds! 25 And which of you by worrying can add a single hour to your span of life?”
So be alert, be aware in the same way that we are all always that bad weather can come at any time. Amen.
Soli Deo Gloria
7 Pentecost (Year C)
Genesis 18, Luke 11
St. John’s, West Seneca
July 27, 2025
Grace to you and Peace from God our Father and the LORD Jesus Christ. Amen.
It is one of those texts that doesn’t get talked about, but here it is. I’m talking about the First Reading from Genesis. Last week we had Abraham entertaining three visitors, showing them hospitality, and who then announced that he and Sarah will have a child in their old age.
Today is the account of Abraham and his bargaining session with God over the fate of Sodom. This city of Sodom is not just a random place. Abraham’s nephew Lot lives there. So you might say Abraham has a vested interest.
It is a great piece of dialogue and worthy of a skit, maybe even on Saturday Night Live. This dialogue can begin because of the covenant God has with Abraham. He has been promised a son with Sarah, and that his descendants will be as numerous as the stars. That is what gives Abraham the permission to have this bold bargaining session with God.
It has been suggested that Western Christianity is uncomfortable with this kind of conversation between God and man. However, it is quite common and accepted, even encouraged, in the Bible.
This is really a lament, a way to express grief, or bemoan a situation. We see it here, and with Moses, certainly with Elijah, and Jeremiah. Because of the covenant, this relationship between God and Abraham, extended to us, we do have the right to question God, and yes, argue or even bargain with God. The Hebrews understood lament as evidence of faith because one does not argue with a God they do not believe in. And one does not argue with a God who has no power to change the order of things.
Abraham knows God and trusts his promises. Abraham knows that God is merciful, gracious, just, righteous. That’s where he begins as he pleads for Sodom. Basically, Abraham is asking that God be who Abraham knows him to be. Abraham is certain God will respond appropriately because He must be true and faithful. This takes great faith, which Abraham has. Beyond the faith, Abraham understands the covenant.
Remember, it is the covenant which gives Abraham the right to question God and His judgment. And, due to the lament aspect, Abraham leaves it in the hands of God to deal with the situation properly. “Abraham believes God is in control of the events of history and can be persuaded to change His mind. After all, He who created the world in six days can certainly change His mind concerning Sodom, save Lot and his family, and still keep the earth spinning in the proper way!”
That is covenant. We can call on God because we too believe that God is involved in His creation. While we may not always come from a place of lament, we do understand. We too may call on God and in today’s Gospel, Jesus tells us exactly how to do this when we just can’t find the words.
Fast forward to Luke’s Gospel, and the prayer we all know so well. Jesus was praying one day and his disciples ask him, Lord, teach us to pray.” This disciple wanted to know how to pray, what to ask for, and how.
Jesus agreed, because he wanted his disciples to pray in a way that drew them closer to God. He wants the very same for us.
So, Jesus lays out a prayer and an outline, if you will. Jesus said to his disciples, “When you pray, say: Father.” Or “Our Father in heaven.” Over time, the prayer evolved into the version that is used today, “Our Father, who art in heaven.”
Regardless of the exact wording, the line is clear: Prayer creates a personal connection to the God who is as close to us as a parent. Just as Abraham called on a God he understood to be close, so do we.
“The first words of the prayer capture perfectly how God is both with us and beyond us. “Our Father” — that’s God right here, as close as a loving parent. “In heaven” — that’s God out there, in God’s infinite, almighty, divine majesty. Both aspects of God are needed, and in prayer we connect with the God who is both with us on earth and beyond us in heaven.
Jesus completed this first line by saying, “may your name be revered as holy.” The church has the tradition of saying, “hallowed be thy name.”
Whether you say, “revered as holy” or “hallowed,” the meaning is the same: Jesus wants God’s name to be held in the highest regard. It goes back to the second commandment, that we “not take the Lord’s name in vain.” To honor God’s name is to treasure who God is. To “hallow” the divine name is to honor and love who God is. When we say these words, we are saying that we want God’s holiness in our lives.
“A novelist and pastor named David Williams has written a book called The Prayer of Unwanting: How the Lord’s Prayer Helps Us Get Over Ourselves… He knows that we have a lot of desires — success, safety, wealth, health, love. We often use prayer to ask for these things. But maybe the Lord’s Prayer gives us an opportunity to think more about God and less about ourselves. Perhaps it is a prayer of unwanting.
"When we say, 'Father, may your name be revered as holy,' we are focusing more on God than on ourselves. We are asking not for earthly health or wealth or success, but for heavenly holiness. Williams knows there is a lack of holy awareness in this world, even among Christians. So, in this line of the prayer, Jesus is inviting us to let go of our earthly anxieties and gaze at God’s holiness. To revere God is good for us. It fills our life with meaning.”
The prayer continues with being focused on God. “May your kingdom come,” said Jesus. Some ancient versions add, “Your will be done, on earth as in heaven.” When we pray this, we are letting go and asking that God’s will be done, however that may turn out. Not our will, but “thy will.” I think of Jesus in the Garden, praying earnestly, “Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me, yet not my will but yours be done.”
And yes, like Abraham, we can ask for what we want, or what we need for life.. “Give us each day our daily bread” comes next. “And forgive us our sins, for we ourselves forgive everyone indebted to us. And do not bring us to the time of trial” or “lead us not into temptation.” Those are all daily needs and Jesus invites us in this prayer to ask for those.
The challenge for us is to understand the difference between our needs and our wants, and to accept that God will give us what we need, not necessarily what we want. And we can ask over and over again, varying it a bit, just as Abraham did.
I so often hear that people don’t want to ask for things they need. Abraham is relentless, and I have to wonder: why not just go for broke. And so ask. Jesus gives us this prayer, and if you remember, Martin Luther’s explanation of this petition includes…everything. Beyond daily bread and forgiveness, ask for those things like: a good day, or wisdom, or the ability to realize that I need to keep my mouth shut. Pray for guidance: Where should I go to school? Or, should I look for another job? What about retirement? And then trust that God hears and is acting on that request.
God is in control, but God is also in relationship with all of us and asks us to pray, to lament, and to maybe even ask Him to change His mind. As a result, we trust, no matter the answer. We know that God so loved the world that He sent His son, and that He continues to walk with us. Trust, as Abraham did. You may remember that God did destroy Sodom and Gomorrah. Trust anyway. Like the disciples who wanted to know how to pray, we too need that. And we trust that God will hear and do what is good and right for us and for the kingdom. Amen.
Soli Deo Gloria
6 Pentecost (Year C)
Genesis 18, Luke 10
St. John’s, West Seneca
July 20. 2025
Grace to you and Peace from God our Father and the LORD Jesus Christ. Amen.
I recalled a childhood memory this past week when I read a colleague’s commentary on Genesis 18. It seems that her family and mine had the same grace said at meals. “Come, Lord Jesus, be our guest, and let this food to us be blessed.”
Like her, I like the “sing-song” nature of the blessing. My brothers liked that it was short. And while I understood it then as a dinner blessing, I have come to understand it differently now. It is a bold prayer, especially the first part where we ask Jesus to come and be the guest at our table. What would that look like? What would it be like to prepare space at our table, in our home, in our lives, into which Jesus could come? What would it mean to receive him with hospitality and generosity?
Receiving God as a guest is the point here and Abraham demonstrates it perfectly. In the heat of the day, Abraham runs to meet these men who have appeared. He begins by asking for their favor and they agree. His haste continues until the visitors are under the tree eating the food: he hurries to the tent to tell Sarah to make the bread, then goes to the herd, while his servant hurries to prepare the meat.
You probably noticed that Abraham goes above and beyond his first offer of nourishment: “a little water,” and a “morsel of bread,” is his first offer. Instead, he gives them a good calf from his herd, curds and milk, and cakes made from fine flour. It reminds me of my Aunt Helen, who was a superb hostess. She and her family lived a few hours from where I grew up, and my mom and dad loved to visit her. They didn’t call ahead, because they knew she would fuss. But, when they did arrive, after an initial greeting, and the cry, “you should have called us,” there was a flurry of activity. Lo and behold, when it came time for a meal, there was a feast!
“It might seem there is something dishonest about telling the visitors they will only receive a little water and a bit of bread, when something far more lavish is what he has in mind. This could be explained away under the rubric of humility, that Abraham did not want to be arrogant about his ability to provide. Or, perhaps Abraham wanted to pleasantly surprise his visitors by not getting their expectations up. One ancient rabbi explained that this story illustrates how those who are righteous speak little, but do a lot.” That sounds like my Aunt Helen. That’s still true.
There is a bit of a trap here as we go through the text. As it reads, it could seem like a transaction. Abraham and Sarah are generous to God and in turn, they are promised a son. So, in our thinking, if we do our best for God, then God will respond and give us what we desire. If we are hospitable to God, then God will be gracious to us.
But God is first and foremost a God of grace. In Genesis 17, Abraham is promised a son, well before these visitors arrive. Grace will always come first. Because of that undeserved grace, we respond with our best. And so it is always possible to greet others with the same generosity.
Hospitality was all important in the ancient world, often hospitality meant the difference between life and death. And we see it many times in Scripture.
We see hospitality in I Kings, when Elijah visits the widow at Zarephath who has so little, she is preparing to die. She has her own worries and whether or not Elijah fit in is not one of them. She provides what she has and something wondrous happens. Remember “The jar of meal was not emptied, neither did the jug of oil fail, according to the word of the Lord that he spoke by Elijah.”
We see hospitality shown to Elijah’s successor, Elisha, as he visits the Shunamite woman. She offers hospitality and more. “Look, I am sure that this man who regularly passes our way is a holy man of God. Let us make a small roof chamber with walls and put there for him a bed, a table, a chair, and a lamp, so that he can stay there whenever he comes to us.” She, just like Sarah, is promised a child.
In Luke’s Gospel, when two disciples are traveling to the village of Emmaus, Jesus joins them, walks with them, but they don’t recognize him. So filled with grief, they just talk, never wondering if this stranger is fitting in. They arrive at their destination, and they practice the old tradition of hospitality by inviting their companion to eat with them. “They practice philoxenia, which literally means "love of the stranger." Philoxenia is one of the Greek words used in the New Testament for hospitality. This is in contrast to the attitude so prevalent today -- xenophobia, "fear of the stranger."
This is the challenge of Christian hospitality: to embrace all people as God has embraced us in Christ. … “In Le Chambon [writes professor Christine Pohl], a small community of French Protestants that rescued Jews during the Second World War, citizens opened their homes, schools, and churches to strangers with quiet, steady hospitality, and made Le Chambon the safest place for Jews in all of France. Residents defined a neighbor as anyone who needed help, and by doing so saved the lives of approximately five thousand people being persecuted by the Nazis. When the police asked their pastor André Trocmé to turn in the Jews, he responded, ‘We do not know what a Jew is. We know only men.’ In the face of terrible danger, he and his congregation were an uncommon Christian community that took a bold stand based on common human identity. They knew that every stranger is created in the image of God, made in the same human flesh.” What is interesting about Le Chambon is that their ancestors were Huguenots, who had faced persecution.*
Hospitality means letting the stranger remain a stranger while offering acceptance nonetheless. It means that we honor the relationship that we have as human beings made in the image of God. So we don’t need to develop an close personal bond with everyone, rather we can love and appreciate our differences. “It means valuing the strangeness of the stranger — even letting the stranger speak a language you cannot speak or sing a song you cannot join with — resisting the temptation to reduce the relationship to some lowest common denominator, since all language and all music is already human. It means meeting the stranger’s needs while allowing him or her simply to be, without attempting to make the stranger over into a modified version of ourselves.” It’s not a popular opinion, is it?
Today, we see Abraham is doing what was simply done: offering food and drink to strangers who were passing by. He didn’t consider if the strangers fit it. Of course, these are no mere strangers, are they? Rather, they are God’s messengers, bringing news so astounding that later in the text, Sarah will laugh.
God’s grace is present, seeing us with favor. And it will always come first.
So where does that leave us? Come, Lord Jesus, be our guest…
Should we not be welcoming in all situations? Not just at the table, but in our everyday situations? Jesus does come to us as a guest. When we help someone in need, we are giving aid to Jesus. It happens everywhere, here, at school, in the workplace, especially so at work. As an ancient poem called "The Gaelic Rune of Hospitality" says so well:
“I saw a stranger yestreen;
I put food in the eating place,
Drink in the drinking place ...
Often, often, often
Goes the Christ in the stranger's guise.”
Hospitality is not mere politeness, it is life itself. Come, Lord Jesus, be our guest, and let all your gifts to us be blessed. Amen.
Soli Deo Gloria
* Henry G. Brinton, The Welcoming Congregation: Roots and Fruits of Christian Hospitality (Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox Press, 2012), 14.
5 Pentecost (Year C)
Luke 10
St. John’s, West Seneca
July 13, 2025
Grace to you and Peace from God our Father and the LORD Jesus Christ. Amen.
If there was anything that Jesus understood well, it was the power of our imaginations and how an image could bring us into a new understanding of the world around us.
“Who is my neighbor?” For decades Fred Rogers began each episode of his program with the original song “Won’t You Be My Neighbor?” Listening to the words, I see how they hint at the show’s main themes: compassion and kindness.
“It’s a beautiful day in this neighborhood,
A beautiful day for a neighbor.
Would you be mine?
Could you be mine?
I have always wanted to have a neighbor just like you,
I’ve always wanted to live in a neighborhood with you.
So let’s make the most of this beautiful day,
Since we’re together we might as well say,
Would you be mine?
Could you be mine?
Won’t you be my neighbor?”
Today Jesus is confronted by a man who asks, “Who is my neighbor?” It is a simple question, but it says a great deal about this lawyer’s motivation. He’s concerned about his salvation. What do I need to do to inherit eternal life? What he wants is a simple and easy template to place over his life’s words to prove that he is following the law. We do the same, always looking for answers to the difficult questions of faith and life.
Jesus does not answer with a question, but rather, a story, and a provocative one at that. We all know it, or do we? Like many of the parables, this is meant to do more than recount a pleasant, moral tale. Rather, it is meant to prompt the lawyer - and us - to action. The frequency of the word “do” in the parable (vv. 25, 28, 37) even points us in this direction…to take action.
And to answer the question of just who the neighbor is, Jesus simply says that a man, no identity, was traveling on the road from Jerusalem to Jericho. We do not know if this traveler is rich or not, married or not, no idea as to his ethnicity, and so on. But…wait. Traveling on the road from Jerusalem to Jericho? That would have gotten the attention of those listening. That stretch of road was notorious. Jerusalem is 2300 feet above sea level; the Dead Sea, where Jericho is, is 1300 feet below sea level. In less than 20 miles, this road dropped 3600 feet, and it was a narrow way with rocky outcrops, and sudden turns that make it a perfect place for robbers and others up to no good. A dangerous road, and one that should probably not be traveled on alone.
But for Jesus, that is not the point. No “blaming the victim” here. Instead, he moves to the aftermath of a robbery and beating. There the man is, on the side of the road, beaten and bruised. Now despite the danger of this road, others are traveling as well. Again, the road is not the point. We are all on the road. The priest and the Levite have been described as needing to be ritually clean, giving them a reason to not stop. But – as I learned --that does not hold up. I’ve used this before, but a good example is a good example. Professor Amy-Jill Levine teaches New Testament at Vanderbilt University Divinity School. She describes herself as a "Yankee Jewish feminist who teaches in a predominantly Protestant divinity school in the buckle of the Bible Belt." As a side note, when a person describes herself that way, you have to read what she’s written. She has studied the Gospels extensively. She is a member of an Orthodox Jewish synagogue. In her book, the Misunderstood Jew: The Church and the Scandal of the Jewish Jesus, she offers a wonderful interpretation of the parable. She goes into detail on what ritually clean means, and that itself could be another sermon. In any event, it doesn’t hold up to her scrutiny.
But beyond that, Levine believes that what needs to be recovered and stressed – until it is second nature -- is that the Samaritans and the Jews of Jesus’s time were “mutually antagonistic” toward one another. It appears that they looked for ways to antagonize one another. No self-respecting Jew would call a Samaritan “good.” Had Jesus been a Samaritan telling this story, we would then have to re-name it the Parable of the Good Jew.
And yet, it is a Samaritan who stops to assist. An outsider and enemy of the Jews, the Samaritan puts in face time. The Samaritan stopped, He uses his own oil, and oil was a commodity.
On top of this, the Samaritan used his own wine as an antiseptic. He takes this man with him and in addition pays two days’ wages and offers more, whatever the cost, on his return. All this for a man he doesn’t know; for a man who was, until that moment, not his neighbor in the way we define neighbor.
It would have been so shocking and upside down to all who heard it, leaving many shaking their heads, but also pondering just what being a neighbor means.
Besides the obvious question, there is another. Why does Jesus simply not say to the lawyer: You are right about the law. You get an A. Now go. In Texts Under Negotiation, Walter Brueggemann suggests that people do not change much because of arguments about doctrine, or knowledge or moral appeal. “People in fact change by the offer of new models, images, and pictures of how the pieces of life fit together,” he says. “Transformation is the slow, steady process of inviting each other into a counterstory about God, world, neighbor, and self. This slow, steady process has as counterpoint the subversive process of unlearning and disengaging from a story we find no longer to be credible or adequate.” In another words, put something new into a story and transformation can begin.
That is what the parable of the good Samaritan does, it helps us imagine God’s counterstory with those we can relate to, with actions that we can perform. When we can translate those kinds of actions into our own lives, the Gospel comes to life—and our community becomes richer because of its diversity and shared care.
Who is my neighbor? This is the question for today. “If Christians could answer it with one definitive response, then the church could finally hold itself accountable and act in solidarity with those who are hurting and need care. But centuries after this question was posed to Jesus, we still muddle his response about loving God and neighbor. We continue to stir up excuses for our hesitation and limitations in offering mercy or compassion. Jesus doesn’t identify why the priest and the Levite don’t offer care, so we fill in with our own possible excuses: a lack of expertise in triage care, a concern that giving time to one need would steal time from another. Or maybe it’s sheer callousness or simple fear. The excuses are insignificant as Jesus turns the focus on the positive action that demonstrates a neighborly love.”
Besides that, we have turned this into a sweet story about helping one another. The problem is we have lost all the intensity and provocation of the parable. This is radical. This is not the watercolor Jesus, the Jesus of our childhood faith. This is the Jesus of this world, our world as mature, faithful Christians.
It was a countercultural idea then and continues to be countercultural. It is in contrast to how we view outsiders as a danger to our comfortable neighborhoods. But Jesus always pushed the boundaries, looking with excitement rather than fear. When there are tangible ways to serve others and to share mercy and kindness, taking them up is not our obligation but our delight. When we recall how Jesus related to others, it confirms the wisdom that there are two kinds of people: those we love and those we haven’t yet met.
Professor Levine concludes her commentary on the Good Samaritan with a modern take on the Good Samaritan. “The ancient kingdom of Samaria is … the West Bank. Thus translated across the centuries, the parable retains the same meaning. The man in the ditch is an Israeli Jew; a rabbi and a Jewish member of the Israeli Knesset fail to help the wounded man, but a member of Hamas shows him compassion. It that scenario could be imagined by anyone in the Middle East, perhaps there might be more hope for peace.” Oh, and that was written before the war began.
Back to Mr. Rogers: A beautiful day for a neighbor. Would you be mine?
Could you be mine? Those lyrics turn this question into an invitation that expands to all. So, as we are all on the road from Jerusalem to Jericho, who is our neighbor? Amen.
Soli Deo Gloria
3 Pentecost (Year C)
II Kings
St. John’s, West Seneca
June 29, 2025
Grace to you and Peace from God our Father and the LORD Jesus Christ. Amen.
As I read these past days, one writer for Christian Century wrote of being in a choir and singing the spiritual HOLD ON. Not familiar with that particular song, I found myself online. There are many variations of verses.
- "Paul and Silas bound in jail, / Had nobody for to go their bail. / Keep your hand on that plow, hold on."
- "Paul and Silas began to shout, / Jail door opened and they walked out. / Keep your hand on that plow, hold on."
- "God gave Noah the rainbow sign, / No more water, the fire next time. / Keep your hand on that plow, hold on."
- "Mary had a golden chain, / Every link spelt with Jesus name. / Keep your hand on that plow, hold on."
- "If you wanna get to Heaven, let me tell you how. / Just keep your hand on de Gospel plow. / If that plow stays in you' hand / It'll land you straight into de promised land…"
Like so many spirituals, this song encourages perseverance and faith during challenging times, and in this case refers to Biblical people, Noah and Paul and Silas and Mary. And how to get to heaven by holding on to faith when all hope seems lost.
What is this business about plowing anyway? One of my devotions from Luther Seminary featured this story: “One of my first jobs on a farm was sitting on a dump-rake attached to the tractor and mower. My job was to pull a lever and make perfect windrows of hay for baling. Sometimes I would look back to see how straight the rows were. As a result, I would sometimes miss the right time to dump the hay, leaving behind crooked windrows which were harder to bale.”*
Now, I must admit, while I know what a rake is, a dump-rake was a new term for me. And I ended up on-line. It is an older machine that basically does the same thing: preparing mown hay for baling.
But I digress. Keeping your hand on or off the plow brings us to Elisha, who is at work when Elijah comes calling. He’s going to take on a new task following Elijah. No more plowing, he’s off to be a “sidekick” – servant - for Elijah. There is a new path ahead.
And then we come to Luke’s Gospel and we learn that Jesus is not Elijah. While Elijah has time to wait, Jesus does not. He has “set his face” to Jerusalem, and time is of the essence.
In the latter section of today’s gospel, the first would-be disciple approaches Jesus and says that he will follow anywhere. It’s a reckless, hasty promise, made without thinking it through, as they say. Jesus’s response is clear, straight to the point. “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.”
This would be disciple believes he is willing to follow Jesus "anywhere," but the truth is that Jesus only has "nowhere." Jesus’s life had begun that way. No matter how pretty we make it, Jesus was born to a young, temporarily homeless couple, and would soon be a refugee in Egypt. So being a disciple will not give this man security of any type and will in fact strip him of all the security we find so dear.
No home, no office, no pension plan, no health-care plan, nothing like that comes along with being a disciple. When Jesus clarifies this, he is challenging all of us to move beyond the standards of safety, beyond our preoccupation with job security, financial security, social security. The only true security in life in God.
The second person receives an invite from Jesus to follow him. And, not unlike us, this person has family responsibilities that tie him down and hold him back. According to Jewish tradition it was the duty of the oldest son to see to the burial of his parents. Who among us doesn't feel the daily demand as we try to balance everything: our jobs and family, along with the extra-curricular activities. We all have mortgages or rents due, car payments; some have college tuition; others have children or elderly parents, and we all have grocery bills.
But Jesus will have none of that. There are no “loopholes” in being a disciple. We cannot claim “bad timing.” In fact, it is the opposite that is true. Trusting in God's love and grace and becoming a disciple will result in making us better at caring for our families.
The third is truly eager to follow, but explains that he has family to consider, or at least say “goodbye” to. And to us, it looks right. It’s common courtesy. But does it put God first? Or is it about being socially acceptable? After all, what would happen to his reputation, his social standing, if he simply walked away to follow Jesus?
And so Jesus, as Jesus does, challenges him to move beyond the usual, keep his hand on the plow. Being a farm girl, I know that a field does not get plowed by turning it over in your mind. I can remember my dad saying that: “it’s not going to get done sitting here talking about it.” In Jesus’s time, for plowing, you had to walk along, always moving forward to prepare the ground. The same is true for today, except that the plows are larger.
You probably noticed that each time, Jesus hardly gives a tactful answer. As Jesus goes to Jerusalem, his approach is not to gather a huge group of disciples. His answers to the requests or invites are rather harsh and demanding. Jesus was after – and still is – quality, not quantity.
But, you and I know how difficult it is at times to keep our faces turned to Jerusalem. We know that it can be difficult to love all as we have been loved, and in addition, we may not feel that the spirit is even leading us.
For us today, who want to follow Jesus, what this means is this: we need to look seriously at what we are doing and where we are going.
“Following Jesus may not—almost always will not—include space and time to check in on other matters such as family or social expectations, or allow for comforts along the way…”** This is not something that can wait until later. It’s something to do now. Being a disciple means changing our priorities, letting go of prejudices, and moving past what we think are limitations. In other words, anything that distracts us from keeping our hand on the plow.
“Jesus…knows his human road will come to an end. The crisis point is coming; he can see the eventualities. The people meeting him along the way (like so many of us) perhaps imagine an adventure beginning, with plenty of time to become engaged, or settle affairs at home, or make sure they have a backpack of snacks and a bedroll…
We need—I need—to come down to the reality of the dusty road. The moment is now. The needs are practical and imperative. The hopes are equal parts heavenly... What is Jesus asking of me? Of all of us? Keep your hand on the plow, and hold on.” Amen.
Soli Deo Gloria
*God Pause, June 27, 2025
**Christian Century, Lectionary for June 29, June 2025.
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