Friends, I haven’t been using Tumblr as much recently. But especially now, especially after this week, I want you to know that I’m here for you. This is a safe space. Each one of you is precious and valuable and loved.

Reformation 1517/2016 (a sermon for Reformation Sunday)

God’s grace and peace be with all of you. The date is October 31st, 1517. The location is Wittenberg, Germany, where a university professor named Martin Luther teaches moral theology. Martin Luther is about to do something that will cause reverberations around the world and an impact that will last for centuries. He doesn’t know that. He thinks he is starting a lively academic discussion about a topic Luther finds troubling: the sale of indulgences. Luther has written ninety-five theses, ninety-five propositions for debate. According to legend, he posts them publicly on the door of the university church. Of course, we all know this story of Martin Luther and the ninety-five theses. This moment, which took place four hundred and ninety-nine years ago, is considered the starting point of the Protestant Reformation. 


The Reformation wasn’t the work of just one man. Martin Luther lit the fuse on explosives that had been stacked up by those who came before him—reformers like John Wycliffe and Jan Hus—and the results were staggering. Soon many other reformers joined the movement. Europe was thrown into chaos. Not only Lutherans, but the other “protestant” denominations all trace their history back to these years. Why? Why go against the status quo? Why shake things up so dramatically? Why fragment the Christian faith?

The protestants, the ones who protested the church of their time, did so because they felt they had to. They didn’t take what they did lightly. They protested and reformed the church because the church had gone astray from the essence of Christianity. The institution of the church had become estranged from the faith of Christ. The church was placing obstacles that kept people from the gospel.

A sermon for those weary of politics

God’s grace and peace be with all of you. This morning, we heard a parable from Jesus about a Pharisee and a tax collector. Both of these men go to the Temple to pray. The Pharisee stands by himself and prays, “God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or ever like this tax collector. I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.” Here is a man who trusts in himself that he is righteous. He knows he does what he ought to do—he obeys the Law, follows God’s commandments. He does everything right. And then the other man, the tax collector, stands far off, away from the Temple itself. He doesn’t even look up to heaven when he prays, and his prayer is a desperate plea: “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!” The tax collector knows he is not righteous. He doesn’t even promise to God that he will be righteous, in the future. He simply asks for God’s mercy. Jesus says, “I tell you, this man”—the tax collector— “went down to his home justified rather than the other; for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted.”

I think there’s an easy way to understand this parable, and a hard way. The easy way goes like this: the Pharisee is bad, and the tax collector is good. The Pharisee trusts in his own righteousness. He is arrogant; he brags about all his good works. He exalts himself. Meanwhile, the tax collector is humble. He knows he is not righteous, but he asks for God’s mercy and God justifies him. Be like the tax collector, not like the Pharisee. Be humble, rather than exalting yourself. Then you will be able to pray, “God, I thank you that I am not like that Pharisee, who exalted himself and trusted in his own righteousness!” The easy way to understand the parable is so tempting. It’s such an appealing path, leading us right to comfortable self-congratulation about how un-Pharisaic we are. I hope you all see the irony in this. The path that looked so nice and easy leads us right back to the Pharisee, exalting ourselves and regarding others with contempt.

A God who gets dirty (a sermon on Genesis 32:22-31)

God’s grace and peace be with all of you. I have to tell you, I was so excited when I looked at the appointed readings for today and saw this reading we just heard from Genesis. This passage, in Genesis 32, is one of my favorite stories in the whole Bible. So I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to preach on Jacob wrestling with God.

Let me start by offering a little bit of context, the backdrop to the reading we heard today. You might recall that Jacob, along with his brother Esau, were the two sons of Isaac. Jacob and Esau were twins, and they fought like only siblings can. When they were younger, Jacob (who was the younger twin) disguised himself to trick his blind father and receive the blessing that was meant for Esau, the first-born. Esau, you might imagine, was not happy to be cheated out of his father’s blessing, and so Jacob fled in fear of his life. Jacob goes and lives with his uncle, Laban, and the two trick and cheat each other back and forth for years. Finally, when Jacob has really outstayed his welcome with Laban, he heads home. The Jacob who returns home is now a patriarch in his own right, with wives and children and flocks and wealth.

But he still has a brother who wanted to kill him, and as he gets closer to home, he starts to get increasingly nervous. Jacob sends a messenger to Esau. The messenger returns with the news: “Your brother is coming to meet you with four hundred men.” You can almost hear the gulp from Jacob. He decides to hedge his bets. He divides his whole party, family and servants and livestock, into two groups. Even if Esau comes upon one of the groups and destroys it, Jacob reasons, he won’t lose everything. He also sends gifts to Esau: two hundred and twenty goats, two hundred and twenty sheep, camels and cows and donkeys. He sends the gifts one flock at a time, each one with a flattering message for his brother. Maybe, Jacob figures, he can butter Esau up, buy his way to peace with his twin. Jacob divides up his holdings. He sends gifts to his brother. And Jacob does one other thing, just to cover all his bases: he prays to God. Just in case all his other plans don’t work, Jacob prays, “Deliver me, please, from the hand of my brother, from the hand of Esau.”

How Long, O Lord? (A sermon on Habakkuk)

God’s grace and peace be with all of you. Sometimes, you read a passage of scripture, and the centuries of time between when it was written and the present day seem to melt away. Suddenly, these ancient words feel utterly contemporary, as if they were written just for me, just for us, just for this moment.

I had this experience when I read the words from Habakkuk, our first reading today. Habakkuk cries out in lament to God: “O Lord, how long shall I cry for help, and you will not listen? Or cry to you ‘Violence!’ and you will not save? Why do you make me see wrong-doing and look at trouble? Destruction and violence are before me; strife and contention arise. So the law becomes slack and justice never prevails. The wicked surround the righteous—therefore judgment comes forth perverted.” Habakkuk wrote these words more than 2500 years ago. He was a prophet seeing injustice and pain all around, and demanding to know: “God, how long are you going to let this go on?” The words are ancient, but they sound like a prayer of my heart today, a plea: “How long, O Lord?”

Alas for those who are comfortable (a sermon on Luke 16:19-31)

God’s grace and peace be with all of you.

I want to begin today with a disclaimer about our gospel reading, the parable of the rich man and Lazarus. I feel like this passage needs a disclaimer. It’s certainly a difficult parable. My disclaimer is this: this text is not about the afterlife. At the very least, it’s not about the afterlife in a literal sense. Remember that it is a parable, a metaphorical way of speaking about complicated topics. When Jesus says, “The kingdom of God is like a mustard seed,” we know he doesn’t mean it’s literally a mustard seed. Likewise, although this parable tells a story about the fates of Lazarus and the rich man after they die, I think we are meant to read this metaphorically, not literally. The point of the parable is not to give us a picture of what the afterlife will look like. And with that disclaimer, let’s take a look at what the parable is trying to tell us.

Jesus gives us two vividly contrasting characters: the rich man and Lazarus. While Lazarus was covered in sores, the rich man was covered in fine clothes. While Lazarus longed for scraps, the rich man feasted sumptuously. The rich man was safe and comfortable in his house, while Lazarus sat by the gate outside. How many times do you think the rich man walked by Lazarus, there by the gate? How many times did the rich man see him, sick and hungry? How many times did the rich man avert his eyes? The parable doesn’t tell us. But the rich man did know Lazarus’ name. After both Lazarus and the rich man die, the rich man says, “Father Abraham, send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue.” The rich man knows Lazarus. He knows him by name. He must have known him in life, must have walked by him, must have ignored his suffering. Even in death, the rich man seems only to think of himself. He wants Lazarus to relieve his suffering, even though he never did anything to relieve Lazarus’ suffering. He wants Lazarus to be his personal servant, delivering water one drop at a time. At least the rich man thinks of his family, eventually. But again, he wants Lazarus to run errands for him, to deliver a warning to his brothers. The rich man thinks only of himself and his own. He didn’t care about Lazarus in life, and he still doesn’t care about Lazarus in death. The rich man wants Lazarus to deliver a warning to his brothers. Abraham, in essence, says, they already ought to know better: “They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them.”

And God Changed God’s Mind (a sermon on Exodus 32:7-14)

God’s grace and peace be with all of you. I want to talk about our first reading this morning, the one from Exodus. Now this passage is the second part of the infamous “Golden Calf incident.” Let’s recap what came before the passage we heard today, so we understand the context. The book of Exodus is the story of God saving God’s people, the Hebrews, from slavery in Egypt. Some of you might recall the movie version of this story known as The Ten Commandments, starring Charlton Heston as Moses. Moses, with the power of God, leads the Hebrews out of Egypt through the Red Sea. They go to Mount Sinai, where Moses goes up the mountain and receives the Law from God. Moses is the mediator, the go-between, as God establishes a covenant with the people of Israel. The covenant of Mount Sinai is a promise from God, a promise that says: “You will be my people, and I will be your God.” And in return, the people agree to follow God’s commandments, the Law. After the covenant is made, Moses goes back up the mountain to receive more instruction from God. This is when the trouble starts. Moses is up on that mountain for a long time. The people start to get restless. They start to get nervous. They’re impatient, and they’re scared. What happened to Moses? What if he never comes back? What if the people are lost in the wilderness, with no one to lead them?

The barista saw my WW shirt, remembered that I was wearing a (different) WW shirt yesterday, and then made my day.

Got the Prisma app. Ready to unleash pseudo-artistic photos on the world.

Choose Life (a sermon on Deuteronomy 30:15-20)

And also Psalm 1, and also Luke 14:25-33

God’s grace and peace be with you all.

Let’s talk about team loyalty. I’m sure most of you know I’m not a big sports fan, but I think I’ve got it right when I say that you either have to be loyal to UCLA or to USC. Right? I’m not trying to cause a rift in the congregation here, but let’s see—who here is a UCLA fan? And who roots for USC? UCLA and USC isn’t the only fierce team rivalry out there. I went to a Dodgers game last year. A guy showed up in the stands wearing a Giants hat. People booed. I honestly thought violence might break out. You’re either with the Dodgers, or with the Giants. You have to choose. You can’t root for both. I also experienced an east-coast version of this. During seminary, my husband and I worked in a church in Maryland, not too far outside of Baltimore. The pastors there had moved down from Pennsylvania, from the Pittsburgh area. If you know professional football, I’m sure you can guess where this is going. The pastors were Steelers fans, and the congregation was full of Ravens diehards. The congregation thought it was hilarious to give the pastors Ravens hats and coffee mugs just to mess with them. Now my husband made the worst mistake you can possibly make if you find yourself in the middle of a team rivalry. Someone in the congregation asked him, “So which team do you support?” And Steve said, “Well, I don’t want to pick sides. How about if I just want both teams to have a good time.” Oh Steve. Now both sides were mad at him. You can’t root for both. You have to choose a side. Steelers or Ravens? Dodgers or Giants? UCLA or USC? You have to pick! Don’t you know this is a matter of life and death?

Now the Feast and Celebration (a sermon on Luke 14:1-14)

God’s grace and peace be with all of you. Good manners are something every child has to learn. When I was growing up, many of my lessons—especially when it came to table manners—took place at my grandparents’ house. My grandmother is a stickler for good table manners. I learned how to set the table, where the silverware and the glasses were supposed to go. I learned how to eat soup (no slurping!). I learned to say “please” and “thank you.” And I definitely learned “No elbows on the table.” Even today, if I put my elbows on the table, I hear my grandmother’s voice in my head, scolding me.

Every culture has its rules and norms for good manners. There are plenty of written and unwritten rules for the social graces. If you receive a gift, you should write a thank-you note. If you are invited to someone’s house for a meal, you eat what you are served, whether you like it or not. At a big event, like a wedding, there will likely be a seating chart prepared. You wouldn’t go and sit at the head table if you’re just one of the guests. In the world of the New Testament, there were social rules, too. The norms were a bit different then than what we are used to today, so let me give you a little introduction to the social graces of Jesus’ time.