My dad’s also a Lutheran pastor.Three weeks ago, he retired after 39 years of ordained ministry from Spirit of Hope Lutheran Church in east Mesa. Of all the Christmas Eve sermons I have heard him preach, the one that sticks with me is the sermon where he told the story of a young woman giving birth in her car, a hatchback, behind a particular Circle K in east Mesa, cold, alone, scared.

John was clear about who he was and who he was not. John knew where his authority began and ended. He was meant to prepare the way of the Lord, to point to Jesus. If John had lived in the 21st century, he might have picked up one of those large foam fingers sold at professional football games and pointed that foam finger in the direction of Jesus, turning everyone’s attention to the star player.

On October 31, 1517, Roman Catholic monk Martin Luther challenged the Roman Catholic Church in their practice of selling indulgences to the peasants of Germany.  These indulgences were meant to confirm the release of their dead relatives and sometimes their living loved ones from purgatory, a space between this world and the afterlife, at least in the Roman Catholic tradition.  We may be well familiar with Luther’s theological concerns: the very existence of purgatory, the ability of a piece of paper to release someone from it, the idea that anything we do can ensure our salvation.

Imagine this scene. Jesus. The Pharisees and Herodians. This is not a quiet, sit-down meeting in Jesus’ office. This is not a polite exchange after church in the fellowship hall over coffee.This is Jesus versus the Pharisees and Herodians, one wise but illiterate peasant against likely a couple dozen learned, powerful men, come to entrap him. Think less Downton Abbey and more Game of Thrones. (Well, at least, I hear. I don’t own a TV.)

I wanted to preach a sermon about doing the mission of God, not just talking about doing the mission of God. I thought a sermon about how we can change our minds in the process of determining what God is calling us to do would be interesting. I would have loved to talk about how Jesus deems tax collectors and prostitutes more worthy of the kingdom of God than the chief priests and elders and what that might mean in our context. I would have settled for a sermon about how everyone in the parable enters into the kingdom of God whether or not they actually do the will of God.  

Unfortunately, none of these lovely sermon ideas actually reflect the point of Jesus’ parable and encounter with the chief priests and elders.

If I have nothing else for which to thank God, at least this day is a gift, a day of sunlight and birds singing, a day of connection with people and God, a day in which I may learn and serve and grow.