Second Sunday of Christmas Jan 4 2026 St. Martha and Mary Eagan

Second Sunday of Christmas Jan 4 2026 St. Martha and Mary Eagan
Isaiah 60:1-6, Ephesians 3:1-12, Matthew 2:1-12, Psalm 72:1-7,10-14

A New Year dawns, and with it hope and promise, light and love. Even in the midst of this present darkness, more light has already begun to shine, I can see it and I can feel it. And yet life continues to feel hard, sometimes even scary. We live in a world now in which we expect violence, no longer is cruelty a thing to be vanquished, its spectacle is forever before us. The gospel story we have today took place in a time not unlike our own, as it opens we are placed in the middle of King Herod’s Judea. 

This gospel story, unique to Matthew, is a story with peculiar characters, with wisdom from outside of the mainstream, gentiles, powerful, politically savvy people. And King Herod who looms large as a despot, for whom power, instead of love, wins, and who is afraid of this baby, a threat to his empire. God’s presence in Jesus is going to upend the powers that be, and thwart Herod’s plans. And yet we are reminded of God’s activity – God’s intervention; these wise ones from the east were warned in a dream to go home by another way. 

How does this story, the story of God in the flesh, the manifestation of Christ in the world, change things, change us? And how do we make Christ known in the world? You see, there is so much hope, so much promise, so much light, so much love. God bursts into our world, stoops into our lives, and continues to break into our world, and walk with us in the flesh. What does that mean?

The story we have before us today, this story of the wise ones from the east who follow the Light to the child born in a barn, helps us to see the cosmic importance of this birth. This birth happened in a particular place at a particular time in the context of a particular tribe, but the arrival of these wise ones from the east shows us that it wasn't just for a particular people at a particular time in a particular tribe. Matthew's intent in telling this story in this way with these characters is to show us that this birth changes the world, this birth confronts empire, the wise ones from the east know that.

God does whatever it takes to reach out to and embrace all people. God announces the birth of the Messiah to shepherds through angels on Christmas, to Magi via a star on Epiphany, and to the political and religious authorities of God’s own people through visitors from the East. From a manger, where a child lies wrapped in bands of cloth, God’s reach, God’s embrace in Jesus, gets bigger and bigger and bigger. Jesus eats with outcasts and sinners. Jesus touches people who are sick and people who live with pain and suffering. Jesus even calls the dead back to life. Ultimately, Jesus draws all people to himself as he is lifted up on the cross. In Jesus, no one is beyond God’s embrace.

God’s radical grace is wondrously frightening. The Light that shines in the darkness is wondrously frightening. That is also what this story is about. God comes to us in wondrously surprising ways. Ways we do not expect. Ways which we would never choose for ourselves. We are changed, we are transformed, the world is turned, and we must go home by another way, a different way, the way of Love. 

Or not, the alternative, of course, is to join Herod in not seeing God’s ever-expanding embrace, or feel threatened by it, and instead giving way to just plain fear: “When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him”. Herod jealously reached out himself, far enough to violently protect his place and preserve his power.

But I would suggest not being like Herod, and instead of living in fear of what is next, what is new, what could happen, we live in God's embrace, we live in God's light, we live in confidence that Love prevails. Instead of living in fear of what the future may bring to us, we live in God's abundant and amazing grace. Instead of holding fast to that which someday we will lose, we get on board with God's mission in the world of healing and reconciliation.

Taking the way of the wise ones from the east, going home by another way, going home by Jesus' way, surely provides a life of adventure, of risk, of surprise. Jesus leads us in a radical route. It takes us through green pastures, and more dangerous waters, it is a route that is filled with wolves and sheep. This is a route that calls us through transformation to wholeness; it is a route on which the adventure is not about you, but about whom we are together, the people on the adventure with us, and it is about how we are related to God. On this route home we are called to be Light bearers. We are called to be Love bearers. We are called to bring God’s Love to dark corners, to mountaintops, to raging waters.

My most recent viewing obsession is Stranger Things. I got on the roller coaster late in the ride, and the drop to the finish is thrilling. A major motif in Stranger Things is darkness and light. But, as it is with the best of storytelling, sometimes it takes some work to find the cracks of light that will bring healing and hope. I think Stranger Things is a great story, not only because of the landscape of dark and light, there’s so much more to be said about community and communion, friendship and love, looking beyond oneself and into oneself to find belovedness, and - much of that must wait for another day. Today’s story, the story in Matthew’s gospel, shows us the light breaking through, it calls us to follow that light, to find the path that brings us home. 

We are called to bring God’s Love to a dark and broken world, to a culture that is pulled apart by greed and fear. We are called to bring God’s Love to a fearful world. 

You see, God’s Love, God’s Power, is the most powerful integrating force in creation. God’s Love moves us from brokenness, from fragmentation, to wholeness, to healing and it is the only way.

How do you bring God’s Love and God’s Light into the world, how do you bring God’s wholeness into your work or your school? It is our call to bring God’s transforming love to those who have not yet seen or felt or known that love. It is our call to bear the Love that wins into the world. What glory will you manifest?

And, it is God's dream that we do this together. After all, it was three wise ones, not just one, who came to see Jesus. We don't go this life on our own, we journey together, we go home by another way, together. 

Amen

Epiphany blessing

May Almighty God, who led the Wise Ones from the east by the shining of a star to find the Christ, the Light from Light, lead you also, in your pilgrimage, to find the light and love. And the blessing of God Almighty, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, be upon you and remain with you for ever. Amen.

First Sunday after Christmas Dec 29 2024 Grace Episcopal Church, Mpls

First Sunday after Christmas Dec 29 2024 Grace Episcopal Church, Mpls

Isaiah 61:10-62:3, Galatians 3:23-25; 4:4-7, John 1:1-18, Psalm 147 or 147:13-21

My most recent viewing obsession is Stranger Things. I got on the roller coaster late in the ride, but I’m all caught up, and the drop to the finish is thrilling. A major motif in Stranger Things is darkness and light. But, as it is with the best of storytelling, sometimes it takes some work to find the cracks of light that will bring healing and hope. I think Stranger Things is a great story, not only because of the landscape of dark and light, there’s so much more to be said about community and communion, friendship and love, looking beyond oneself and into oneself to find belovedness, and - much of that must wait for another day. Today’s story, the story in John’s gospel, is also filled with darkness and light, inviting us to enter into the revelation, the epiphany, the inbreaking of God to our world - in new and wonderful ways. 

Let's begin at the beginning, where John begins. John’s beginning is not like Matthew’s beginning, the genealogy tracing Joseph back to King David - and then an announcement from an angel, the next thing we know is that the baby is born. And John’s beginning is not like Luke’s beginning, the birth announced by an angel, recognized by Elizabeth, consented to by Mary. And Mark, Mark doesn’t even tell that part of the story. 

John begins at the beginning; in the beginning was the Word. This gospel writer very intentionally places us at the beginning, the first words of the first book of the Holy Scripture that John had on his heart, in the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth. And John very intentionally introduces us to one of the themes that for him shapes all of faith, the light that is in the world. John situates Jesus in a truly cosmic landscape. 

John’s beginning prologue parallels very intentionally the first chapter of Genesis - When God began to create the heavens and the earth, the earth was complete chaos, and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters. Then God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. And God saw that the light was good, and God separated the light from the darkness. God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And there was evening and there was morning, the first day. 

The gospel writer begins, In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. The Word was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through God, and without God not one thing came into being. What has come into being was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overtake it. 

I think it is really important that we understand that these stories we read from sacred scripture are not individual snippets of words, but have everything to do with the stories of our ancestors. These words inform our lives today, and this word is God’s Word. God, who wants to be known to us, and be in relationship with us. 

These are words of Incarnation, Emmanuel, God in the flesh, birthed out of the waters of creation, the waters of baptism, the waters of new life. Bathed in the light that dispels the darkness. For John, there is hope that the smallest source of light might create the possibility of belief. 

God speaks the Word into this world, Jesus dives into our lives for light, for love, for relationship, for connection. John calls us to turn around and face the Light, to fall on our knees and be forgiven. And today John calls us to be partners with him in showing the way to the Light. And for John, the darkness represents a lack of relationship and connection. 

We are yet in the season of incarnation, God in the flesh meeting us in the flesh. God came to be with us in the flesh not to relieve us of the mess and the muck of this life, but in the flesh God stands by our side, takes our hand, sometimes even carries us, and loves us. And that kind of love changes us, we can't help but be changed. God in the flesh reminds us in our flesh that we don't need to be perfect because we are perfectly loved. We don't need to consume and acquire to possess worth; we are enough just the way we are created. God in the flesh reminds us in our flesh that we don't need to gain attention to earn God's love, God has already loved us into ourselves. 

Incarnation is a mystery, and yet it is not so hard. Incarnation, God in the flesh, is about love in a very real and intimate sense, it is about God’s promise and commitment to you and to me to walk this journey with us, and it is about our commitment to love. Christmas is not about the presents; it is about God’s presence with us, and your presence with those whose path you cross.

And that’s where the rubber meets the road, isn’t it? Incarnation is about showing up, and showing forth the light that shines through all darkness. God in the flesh meets us in our flesh, and we must respond to God in the flesh, God’s grace upon grace, with love for our neighbor, love for those we like and for those we cannot abide, love for our immigrant neighbors, and love for the idiots who seem to not understand this basic tenant of God’s beloved people. We cannot disregard the connection we have to God and one another, and to those who are God’s beloveds - all of us. We live in the promise God made at creation and continues to show forth in every moment, when we look for the light through the darkness. 

Love is born into human flesh. God stoops into our lives through the most fragile of body’s, in the most humble surroundings. And, at the very same time, although the place of humans is certainly small; we find ourselves dwarfed by both the creation and the Creator. Yet there’s more to the story. The Creator of the galaxies, eternal and unbegotten, emptied themself and was born as an infant. At the crossroads of time and space, God chose to become fully human, one of us. The light shines throughout the universe, and through the humblest of lives. 

As we celebrate these holy days, may we be reminded that God is above us, below us, surrounding us, and within us. God is alive wherever love is born, wherever justice is pursued, wherever peace is nurtured. The Christ child calls us to see God revealed in those on the argin and in the ordinary, and in one another. Thanks be to God.

Amen.

2 Advent Year A December 7 2025 St. Martha and Mary, Eagan

2 Advent Year A December 7 2025 St. Martha and Mary, Eagan

Isaiah 11:1-10, Romans 15:4-13, Matthew 3:1-12, Psalm 72:1-7, 18-19

It’s Advent, so things are still unfolding; get ready to be amazed. Does that sound like the Advents we’ve had in our pasts? Maybe not so much. 

John the baptizer sure seems to think something wild and amazing is happening. So much so that he calls all those in hearing distance, including you and me, to pay attention, to turn around, to listen. He’s out there in the wilderness, out there on the margins, saying, all you who hear, listen, something amazing is happening here. At least, that’s the way I'm hearing John the baptizer today. 

This season we in the church call Advent, when we await the coming of the Christ child and the fulfillment of all things, and the secular world calls Christmas, is full of expectations. Lights on the house, the perfect Christmas tree, baking, apple pies, lefse, shopping, wrapping, and meaningful family time.

When I was a little girl, some of my siblings, and our mom, would go Christmas tree shopping. I actually don't have fond memories of that experience. We were expected to get a perfect Christmas tree, just the right height and width, a Norway pine, with the long needles, and a good, straight trunk, and not too expensive. It seemed to take hours, and I'd be so cold, frozen feet and hands. Finally we'd get the tree strapped to the top of the car, or stuffed into the back of the station wagon. We'd get our chosen tree home, let it thaw out in the garage, and finally get it into the house. Inevitably it was not right, too tall, too wide, too crooked. At least one of those trees fell right over, after it was fully decorated. It was hard to set all of those expectations of perfection aside, and take joy in the beauty of the tree.

We feel expectations put upon us during this season, by family and friends, we have our own expectations of what we should do, what we want to do, what we have time to do. And amid all these things we think we must do, John the Baptizer asks us to wake up, turn around, change our perspective, listen differently.

So this morning, I'd like you to call to mind your "to do" list. What do you think you need to get done in these next few weeks before Christmas? Now, just set that list to the side for a few minutes and listen to what John and Jesus call us to in these readings this morning.

John the baptizer calls us to repentance. At the risk of laying on some guilt, which is what we seem to feel when we hear the word repent, and which I do not intend. I want to help you reframe that word and action. Repent simply is to turn. It is to change direction. Repent is reorientation, particularly, reorientation toward God. It’s like your mapping app in your car or on your mobile device, every wrong turn you take she says, recalculating. She is reorienting us as we make minor, or not so minor, deviations in our route. Repent may even be like confession and repair. So our opportunity in this season of Advent is to reorient ourselves to God, change direction, and repair broken relationships.

So now recall your to do list. Amid all that you feel you have to do, or that you want to do, or that you think people expect you to do, how may you turn, recalculate, or reorient yourself to God? I'm not saying that the items on your list are not worthwhile, but I am asking you to consider how you may make room in that list to embrace the holy pregnancy, the new life, of this Advent season.

The prophet Isaiah has something to say about that new life. "A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots." Picture that stump. Stumps of trees that look like they are dead. But a branch shall grow out of the roots. There shall be new life, delicate and fragile, like a newborn baby. What if we believe this fragile sign is God’s beginning? Perhaps then we will tend the seedling in our hearts, the place where faith longs to break through the hardness of our disbelief. Do not wait for the tree to be full grown. God comes to us in this Advent time and invites us to turn, to reorient ourselves,  to give room for the branch that emerges, ever so slowly and small, from the stump. We may want to sit on the stump for a while, and God will sit with us. But God will also keep nudging us: “Look! Look -- there on the stump. Do you see that green shoot growing?”

Turn around, reorient yourself to God this Advent season. See that green shoot growing. Watch the new life take shape. Keep awake as the light grows bright. Is it possible for you to look at your list of everything you need to get done, and day dream about what you hope Christmas will be like. What kind of Christmas do you want to have? More than that, what kind of relationships do you want to be a part of? Even more, what kind of world do you want to live in this Christmas and beyond? 

The prophet Isaiah is all about hope, change, turning toward God. "The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them." Our hopes, after all, surely aren’t limited to our immediate wants and needs but reach out to include our larger families, communities, and world. That is what repentance and repair are also about. What needs repairing? 

So maybe Advent is about leaving our familiar and well-trodden path, making a turn, maybe venturing out on another way. Maybe Advent is about trying something different this time, something that gives us a sense of the grace and glory of God, the babe in Bethlehem, the Word made flesh. Advent is a time to turn toward God, a time to reorient ourselves to the holiness of the birth of this baby, the birth of love, the birth of change.

And as we hear in Matthew’s gospel this day, turning toward God, reorientation and even repair, will bear good fruit. It will bear the fruit of compassion, and we will be free to give our time to others. It will bear the fruit of mercy, and we will be free to give our love to others. It will bear the fruit of justice, and we will be free to give food and shelter to others. And maybe we even work toward a time when there is no longer a need to provide food and shelter, because there are no longer any hungry or cold people in our towns. 

And as John the baptizer calls us from his place on the margins, from his place in the wilderness, we meet him there, not in the places of power, but on the edge, in the places of wildness, standing closer to those in our neighborhoods who are cast out and cast down. So go into the desert - of your community, of your congregation, of your own heart. Eat some locusts with John for a time. Find Jesus in the small places, and join yourself fully to his reign of love, which has already triumphed, and which even now is coming into the world.

Amen.

Advent blessing

Give us ears to hear, O God,

and eyes to watch,

that we may know your presence in our midst

during this holy season of joy

as we anticipate the coming of Jesus Christ.

And may the blessing of God,

who is creator, redeemer, and spirit,

be with you this day as you walk into wildness with one another.

Amen.

 

All Saints November 2 2025, St. Martha and Mary, Eagan

All Saints November 2 2025, St. Martha and Mary, Eagan
Daniel 7:1-3,15-18, Psalm 149, Ephesians 1:11-23, Luke 6:20-31

Struggling, striving, to be one too. I love this day, I feel so connected to the cloud of witnesses, the communion of saints. Why do I feel All Saints so deeply? I don’t think it’s because I want to be a saint, or I think I have any degree of perfection. It’s because I want to be among those who follow Jesus, I want to be among those who stand up for love, and compassion, and mercy, and I know I cannot do that alone. I listen to these names, names of the long dead and names of the recently dead, and I wonder, do I measure up? Do I act justly when the time comes, am I merciful in judgment, can I be compassionate with those with whom I passionately disagree?

This cloud of witnesses helps me along, holds me up, keeps me accountable, makes me want to do better. Each one of these in this cloud of witnesses changed their particular piece of the world, not necessarily by doing fabulous, extravagant things, but by stepping into the space in which they were needed, when called. By stepping up to love. By using their voice and being brave. Not heroic, but faithful.

Do you have saints in your life? Not perfect people, people perfectly loved. There’s a piece by Linda Hogan, an indigenous writer, who was the Chickasaw Nation's Writer in Residence. And at All Saints time it lands on me with all sorts of sense and wonder. She has written, “Suddenly all my ancestors are behind me. ‘Be still’ they say. ‘Watch and listen. You are the result of the love of thousands.’” 

That empowers me, emboldens me to put one foot in front of the other, each day, and speak love into dark and lonely spaces, and we have definitely been experiencing some dark and lonely spaces recently. It feels like my voice joins all the voices before me, and together we sing a song of the saints of God. Because being a saint is not about being superhuman. It may be about having a super power though. The super power of love, the super power of the love of all those who have gone before us to show us the way, and those who will come after us to carry on.

I wonder about the saints we named today, and so many others whom we did not name. I wonder if they knew they were a saint, or if all they knew was God’s love for them and for others. I think they didn’t know they were saints. I think they were just like you and me. I think they took seriously the call to love God, and to love one another. I think they woke up in the morning, just like you and me, and asked God to help them carry Jesus’ light into all the dark places of their lives.

Who are the saints you know, and have known? Not perfect people. But people putting one foot in front of the other and stepping into the space of love and bringing the light of Jesus with them. I think a lot about my mom who died 11 years ago now. My mom wasn’t perfect, she was as ornery as an Irish woman comes. There was always room at my mother’s table. Even if she didn’t like you, you got fed. She prepared meals at church, and put on quite a spread for funeral luncheons. And for years she was in charge of the Loaves and Fishes meal once a month. Mom would never consider herself any more than a person that said yes to pitching in and helping. She never thought of herself as brave or courageous, or particularly compassionate. But she stepped up when she heard the call, often it was the call on the telephone… we need you to...bring a hotdish, we need you to… be in be president of the women’s club…we need you.

I think what’s really true is that the phone call, or these days the email or text, is much louder than God’s still, small voice. And stepping into the space of love and compassion, responding to God’s call, is much more like providing a meal, or filling up the food shelf, or standing up for the most vulnerable, than it is about saving the world.

All Saints is our day to find ourselves in the community that attests to the love that wins. It is not to find ourselves wanting because we aren't good enough or perfect enough. All Saints is our day to experience the awesomeness of those who walked this path before us, and to count ourselves as part of that great cloud of witnesses. It is an opportunity to call on this cloud of witnesses, Abraham and Aquinas, Madeleine and Marion, Perpetua and Felicity, Martin Luther King and Oscar Romero, as people who show us the way of fearless love, mercy, and compassion.

Grandmothers and Grandfathers, ancestors and forebears, the entire cloud of witnesses, stand here beside us.

On this day of all saints, we call upon all of those who have taken this journey before us, to stand here with us as we are witnesses today to the love of our creator God, to the life and love and work of Jesus, and the enlivening presence of the Spirit.

Stand here beside us, as we struggle to follow Jesus.

Stand here beside us, as we grieve for our mothers and fathers and our loved ones who have died.

Stand here beside us, as we endeavor to find our identity as the ones who are marked as God's own forever.

Stand here beside us, as we continue to hope and find encouragement in the face of loss and discouragement.

Stand here beside us, as we courageously invite those we love into a relationship with one another and with Jesus.

Stand here beside us, as we strive to be a blessing in the lives of all we encounter.

Stand here beside us, as we wonder about what blessing is even all about.

Grandmothers and Grandfathers, ancestors and forebears,

stand here beside us, we remember your fidelity, your strength, your courage, as we ask our creator God for the same.

If we are indeed the result of the love of thousands, which I believe we are, then what is the task we bear today? It’s not about heroics, but definitely the super powers of love and compassion. We are the saints of God; we are the ones who give rise to the thousands who come after us. Our task today is to follow Jesus. Our call is to Love God, love others, show that love bright and clear wherever we are. Getting up every morning, giving thanks for the day, putting one foot in front of the other, and shining the Christ light into all of the dark places, makes a difference. We are joined together, we are joined with the cloud of witnesses, and our witness matters, our actions matter. Saints lived not only in ages past; there are hundreds of thousands still; the world is bright with the joyous saints who love to do Jesus’ will. You can meet them in school, or in lanes, or at sea, in church, or in trains, or in shops, or at tea; for the saints of God are just folk like me, and I mean to be one too. 

And all the saints of God say, AMEN!

17 Pentecost Proper 22 Yr C Oct 5 2025, St. Martha and Mary, Eagan

17 Pentecost Proper 22 Yr C Oct 5 2025, St. Martha and Mary, Eagan
Habakkuk 1:1-4, 2:1-4, Psalm 37:1-10, 2 Timothy 1:1-14, Luke 17:5-10

It sounds to me like these apostles are being a little bit demanding, don’t you think? Increase our faith! How much is enough? We work our whole lives to have enough. Enough money to retire, enough house to live in, enough toys in our garage, or our lake place, or our vacation place. Can we ever have enough? 

When we lived in Rapid City, we knew a person who we perceived to have a lot. A large house with a great view, cars that were very nice, a vacation home in Montana, and the ability to give abundantly. Sometimes Willie, my younger son, and I wondered what that would be like. We wondered what it would be like to just be able to buy, without choosing between this one or that one, we could have both. We wondered what it would be like to not have to stick to a budget at the grocery store, just buy whatever we wanted. We wondered what it would be like to always stay in a fabulous hotel, and while on vacation to do whatever we wanted, never having to say no because we just don’t have the money. What would it be like to have enough to do it all?

How much faith is enough? Eugene Peterson, in his translation of the bible, The Message writes, “The apostles came up and said to the Master, “Give us more faith.” But the Master said, “You don’t need more faith. There is no ‘more’ or ‘less’ in faith. If you have a bare kernel of faith, say the size of a poppy seed, you could say to this sycamore tree, ‘Go jump in the lake,’ and it would do it.”

I think this story from Luke is about God's absolute and abundant faith in us. I think it is about faith, and faith is not a quantity to be measured, or thing to be possessed, or something to be consumed or traded. This story is not about how much faith you have at all, the story we embody, the story we enact, the story of Love, is the story of God's faith in us. 

You see, our relationship with God is never about us at all, so it can’t be about how much faith you or I have. Our relationship with God is about God's faith in us. And God does have faith in us, that is shown over and over in the pattern of our lives, and in the pattern of the sacred story. God creates and blesses all of creation, but creation turns away from God and we wander in the wilderness, God calls us back into relationship and comes into our lives in a real and embodied way, in flesh and blood, there is forgiveness and reconciliation and transformation. 

We know the truth of this relationship in the reality of death and resurrection. God accompanies us through the pain and the suffering and the joy of this life. Jesus is God in the flesh, and walks this journey with us, Jesus suffers through pain, hangs on a cross, and through Jesus God shows humanity what new life looks like. Jesus is broken, and wholeness looks nothing like life before death. This relationship is all about death and resurrection. Talk about faith, God has faith in us. 

When I get up in the morning I am mostly dazed and confused, I lay my things out so I don’t forget my shoes or my clothes, or my swimming suit. I’m really not thinking anything at all except which way to the Y to go swimming. But one thing I know is that I don't get up in the morning and ask God for more faith, I get up in the morning and know that because God has faith in me, that God is faithful, I can do the work God calls me to do. 

And, sometimes I wonder where God is, sometimes I wonder what God is up to because I sure can't figure out the plan, but that doesn't change God's faith in me. With that, some semblance of faith returns. And that faith looks a lot like love. Love as an act of the will, love as mercy and compassion, love as justice and peace. Lord, help me to be your love in my little part of the world today, Lord, help me to treat each person whose path I cross with mercy and compassion, is my prayer. And that includes the guys in the pool who can’t figure out how to stay on their side of the lane. Lord, help me to get on board with what you are already accomplishing in the world today. Lord, you have faith in me, help me to have faith in myself. 

Faith is not about having enough of it, faith is about asking questions, not about having all the answers. Faith is big enough and important enough to be able to embrace all of our doubt. And faith is never about being perfect, but about being perfectly loved.

We live in a broken world, most of us are broken, and Jesus, in flesh and blood, in the bread and the wine, seeps into our very being and heals us, we are made whole in the bread and the wine. We are made whole by the love that is shown forth in this community, love that is Jesus in our midst. Jesus prepares supper for us, Jesus invites us to the table for food and drink, Jesus gives Jesus' very self so that we may be put back together, we are re-membered in a meal, in a community, that is Jesus' body. This is faith.

Friends, we’ve got all we need to be faithful. We’ve got a God who loves us so very much. Faith is an adventure. Faith is putting one foot in front of the other and walking toward a future we do not see yet but trust God is fashioning. Faith is heading out the door each day looking for opportunities to be God’s partner and co-worker in the world. Faith is imagining that the various challenges put in front of us -  whether solving a problem at work or forgiving someone who hurt us or loving our neighbor - are actually opportunities that invite us to grow as followers of Jesus, and witness to God’s presence and goodness in the world. Just as that mighty little mustard seed grows into a tree big enough to be home to all the birds of the air. 

Being faithful, finally, is about recognizing all the God-given opportunities just to show up and do what needs to be done: doing our work, caring for those in need, protecting the vulnerable, reaching out to the lonely, befriending the friendless, keeping the world going, contributing to the common good, changing the world. Amen. 

 

Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 18, Sept 7 2025

Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 18, Sept 7 2025,

Rev. Kathy Monson Lutes, St. Martha and Mary, Eagan

Deuteronomy 30:15-20, Psalm 1, Philemon 1-21, Luke 14:25-33

 

Luke keeps at us, never lets up, parable after parable, and it just keeps getting harder, this life of following Jesus. In this one, Luke comes off a little harsh, don't you think? Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple. 

That's not really what discipleship is about, is it? That's not really what Jesus asks of us, is it? 

Well, what do you think? Take up your cross and follow. Know what you're getting into before you get into it.

 

I think what is being described in this passage is the cost of discipleship. Discipleship is not cheap, nor is it easy.  Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a man who knows about paying a price-he was a prisoner in a concentration camp because he opposed the Nazi's - and wrote a book called The Cost of Discipleship, writes, "Earthly goods are given to be used, not to be collected. In the wilderness God gave Israel the manna every day, and they had no need to worry about food and drink. Indeed, if they kept any of the manna over until the next day, it went bad. In the same way, the disciple must receive his portion from God every day. If he stores it up as a permanent possession, he spoils not only the gift, but himself as well, for he sets his heart on accumulated wealth, and makes it a barrier between himself and God. Where our treasure is, there is our trust, our security, our consolation and our God. Hoarding is idolatry."

 

What Luke describes, and what Bonhoeffer interprets is not any sort of Christianity Lite. A low cost, low buy in sort of Christianity. It's not Christianity only on Sundays, or any days of my choosing. It is not Christianity that is about feeling good and being nice. It is not Christianity that is about getting what I want, or even being successful. The kind of Christianity that Luke describes means giving it all up, laying it all down. Following Jesus means letting nothing, not even our relatives or our possessions get in the way. The cost of following Jesus is high, it hits us at the core of our humanity, it is about dying to that which is killing us, it is about rising to the new life that God promises us. Discipleship - following Jesus - 

demands our transformation, it asks us to see the world differently to be present in the world differently.

 

You see, the Good News is that with Jesus, nothing is the same. It's not about how much you have, or what you can buy, or who your family is. Remember, honor was the highest good in Jesus' time, and the way to garner honor was to whom you were related. So the admonition to give up family relationships, father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, was about finding value and worth in being children of God.

 

Following Jesus is about divesting yourself of your possessions and relationships that keep you from relationship with God and with others. Jesus probably is a proponent of the sport’s concept, “Go big or go home.” Jesus does not seek Sunday-only followers or part-time disciples; Jesus expects our full commitment. Rather than giving God our leftovers, we are compelled to offer God our lives. Jesus asks us to take up our cross, by laying it all down. As another of my favorite philosophers so wisely has said, "Do or do not, there is no try."

 

That same philosopher, who is Yoda, by the way, also said to his disciple Luke Skywalker, "Train yourself to let go of everything you fear to lose." Fear will kill us, fear ties us up, fear lives deep in our guts and kills us from the inside out. Jesus knows this about us. Jesus knows that it is the fear of losing our possessions that keeps us accumulating more. Jesus knows that it is those possessions that keep us from living fully and completely. And our culture encourages us to accumulate more and build bigger. But the problem is that accumulating more only anesthetizes us to the reality that none of us get out of this life alive, so instead, we live as if we are already dead. It is new life indeed, that Jesus gives us.

 

You see what Jesus asks of us as followers is to live this life unencumbered. We are to live this life with our pack on our back, nimble and ready to serve. I like to watch Rick Steves, the PBS travel expert, on how to pack. He advises, lay everything out that you think you need, and then cut it in half, and cut it in half again. And Rick Steves also says, if you need it, you can get it when you're there. When we tell stories about my mom, one of them ends with “they do have stores there,” because she would not only pack everything, she would also bring enough food to feed an army.

 

That's what Jesus is talking about. What we think we need gets in the way of living our lives wide awake, 

encountering the amazing world that surrounds us, accepting the hospitality of those whose paths we cross, paying attention to God's gifts, giving thanks for what is right there and who is right there in front of us. When we are carrying too much stuff, we miss the hospitality of the moment, we miss the invitation to rest awhile, we miss the connection to one another and all of God's creation. When we lighten our load, 

when we divest ourselves of that which we are convinced we must have, when give up our possessions, 

when we give up our fear and our anger, the world begins to let loose of us, and we are freed to receive the love that wins, the love that blesses, and we are transformed. We are changed into followers of Jesus, who are fully capable of loving our neighbors as ourselves.

 

This is your chance. What is it you are afraid to lose? What is it you need to lay down? What is in your pack that you can leave behind? Put it down, put it down. That is the cost of discipleship. And rise up to meet the new day. Rise up to follow the one and only one who can give you the love and life that you yearn for. Rise up to follow the one who loves you.

Amen.

Prayer in a time of Gun Violence

 

We stand together in hope. We stand together in faith. We stand together in love. We stand individually as ambassadors of hope, vessels of faith, and sentinels of love.  We stand as a community committed to making no peace with gun violence. We pray for the outpouring of the Holy Spirit to inflame and enkindle our lives, our churches, our communities, our cities, and our nation with a passion for lasting peace; through Jesus Christ the Author of Peace. Amen.

Blessing

Life is short, my friends,

and we do not have too much time

to gladden the hearts of others.

So be quick to love,

and make haste to be kind.

And the blessing of God Almighty,

who created you in love,

who walks with you in love,

and who will bring you home in love,

be upon you and all whom you love,

this day forth and forever more. Amen.”

 

Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 17, Year C, Aug 31 2025

Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 17, Year C, Aug 31 2025, 

Christ the King and Holy Nativity, Door County, The Rev. Dr. Kathy Monson Lutes

Jeremiah 2:4-13, Psalm 81:1, 10-16, Hebrews 13:1-8, 15-16,Luke 14:1, 7-14

When I receive an invitation to a party, or a picnic, or any gathering of friends, relatives, neighbors, I am thrilled - I don’t get out much. Especially to a wedding or a wedding shower, or a baby shower. I feel like someone wants me, what I can add to the conversation, maybe even my humor. And yet, those social situations continue to challenge me - I was what we called a wall flower in my younger days, today just an introvert. But I love getting the invitation by phone, email, hardly ever a card in the mail though, and I anticipate and prepare, what will I bring, what will I wear.

So I was recently at a social event that causes an introvert apoplexy. And to top it off, I volunteered to be the chair of the event. My 50th high school class reunion. I decided to chair the event because I was in a new place in my life, newly moved back to my hometown, newly retired, still fairly newly widowed. I figured I might as well make new friends - all those whom I had attended high school with and never even spoke to - we return again to the wall flower status. I figured after 50 years we could probably drop our pretenses and expectations, and just catch up on life. So, one of my responsibilities was to get all the information on the website and extend the invitations to our classmates, and then to maintain the list of growing classmates who intended to come to the reunion. I found my excitement rising as I watched with anticipation all those who were registering - people I had remained friends with, and people I only knew by name. I’d never had so much fun throwing a party. 

What we read about in Luke’s gospel today are parties with all sorts of social and cultural expectations attached to them   

Luke, whose main theme is hospitality, tells us a story about Jesus who is going to eat Sunday dinner at the house of a leader of the Pharisees. This is the Sabbath, a day that is held in high esteem, a day set apart from all other days. In the story that Luke is telling us, Jesus observes how the guests take their places, and in response Jesus tells a story about an invitation to a very special meal, a wedding banquet, and another rather ordinary meal, like a luncheon or dinner. So we have before us, a story within a story, and then, another story.

A wedding banquet in 1st century Mediterranean culture would have been nothing like the weddings I’ve been at. It would have gone on for days, and the celebration was always public, everyone in the whole village would have come to the celebration at one time or another. And in fact, there would have been multiple meals all week long. So after Jesus talks about the wedding, he then goes on to describe meals and hospitality sort of generally, giving an accounting for who should be invited. There are many things going on here.

Remember, Jesus tells this parable when he is at a meal in the house of a leader of the Pharisees. You gotta believe the leader of the Pharisees have an agenda in inviting Jesus over, usually, they want to test him, they want to see what he's made of, they want to find out if he is righteous before the law. And so far, in the eyes of the Pharisees, Jesus has failed miserably. He heals on the Sabbath, he eats with sinners and outcasts, and now, he's telling everyone in hearing distance not to invite the important people over for a meal but invite those who cannot return the invitation.

So what is it about? 

What does the kingdom look like in this story?

Who do we invite to come eat with us here at this table? In Hebrews we hear “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it.”

In Jesus’ culture, of the 1st century, the greatest good was one's honor. Of course, you sat at the head of the table, of course you expected those less than you to sit at the lowest place. Of course, you invited the important people, the people who could do something for you, the people who had something you needed. You would not have considered any other way. That's the way the world works. It's really not so much different today. Jesus came among the first century people, as Jesus comes among us and says there is a new way, a way of God's kingdom. And in that kingdom, everyone has honor, everyone has status, and that is based on God's love, that is based on being created in God's image. It is not about who you are, it is not based on how much you have, it is not based on anything you can do. In God's kingdom, we are all related, and what we do matters. In God's kingdom it is love that wins and love that blesses.

What do you hear in this story? I hear a story of abundance and of enough. Do not be worried about who comes to the party, it is enough, you are enough, there will be enough. In God's kingdom there is enough, share what you have. Jesus is inviting us to stop counting and start giving and blessing. What would it be like to live into the freedom to stop calculating our social prestige and stop worrying about what others think and simply be kind to everyone around us, particularly those who are not often the recipients of kindness? What would it look like at work, at school, and at the places we volunteer or play sports or socialize, to look out for those who seem off on the margin and to invite them into the center by inviting them into our lives, inviting them to the lunch table? Jesus invites us to experience the joy of playing “God’s helper” in handing out the abundant gifts of dignity and worth and value with which we have been blessed. There is joy that comes from blessing others with our regard.

We are called to this hospitality, we are called to this invitation, we are called to build this kingdom, where no one is an outcast, where all of us sinners are welcome. We are called to the table to feed and be fed. As we feed and are fed, we are sent into the world to be the heralds of this kingdom. We are sent into our work, and our school, we are sent into our communities, bearing this new reality. We are sent into the world to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing so we entertain angels. By doing so we are the agents of God's kingdom. By doing so we bring God's healing and reconciliation to all who are broken, which is each and every one of us.

We are followers of Jesus. We are invited to the table where there is no preference of place. We are invited to be builders of the kingdom. We are equipped to meet every person with mercy and compassion, for by doing so, we entertain angels. Amen.